#are y'all acquainted with sadness | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mikathemonster · 6 months

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"ashes to ashes"

author's note: Wow! This is so crazy, y'all. It was an absolute crazy ride collaborating for this year's THAUC event, and I can't believe @spinehandbag and I actually got it done! Between university and the craziness of both of our lives, we really created an awesome story that I can't believe we get to share with you all. I'll be sure to link spine's artwork for this piece the moment they post it on Tumblr :)

Pairing: Fíli / Gender-Neutral Reader

Word Count: 21,440

summary: When Y/N is put into grave danger after their father's foolish deeds, Gandalf brings them to Erebor to seek refuge. With their whole life turned upside down, they have to learn to navigate a new way of living while a price is placed on their head.

content warnings: violence, blood, alcohol, injuries, angst, it's just a lot of sad shit

DO NOT REPOST OR COPY. MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT.

“Ashes to ashes; dust to dust. All we have is each other’s trust.”

You had known this creed since you were a babe; your mother was the first person to teach it to you, explaining the importance of your family and heritage. It sounded like a nursery rhyme to you: a fun little tune to hum to yourself. But you knew better now.

Thirty years. That’s how long your father had been serving the Steward of Gondor as an advisor. In all that time, he had helped so many people. He had secured a good life for your mother and yourself, high among the nobles of Gondor. He had provided so much for you two, even going so far as to enroll you alongside the highest scholars money could buy. It was from these tutors that you learned to harness your passion for painting and art.

Five years. That’s how long he had been driving your family into debt, unbeknownst to you. But it didn’t take you long to figure out that something was amiss, even if you weren’t sure what it was; your mother’s hushed whispers when she would fight with your father were more than enough fuel to the crackling fire of your family’s ails. It seemed your father’s position was the only thing that kept your family afloat, but that did little to calm the nerves of your parents these days. Your home life had become rather tense, prompting you to wander the city more often than you were with your parents.

Three days. That’s how long you had been traveling for, the rain pelting down on you and your travel companion as you made your way north of Gondor. Your partner, an old fellow dressed in gray with a strangely shaped hat, became known to you as Gandalf. You had only been acquainted with him for a few days, beginning when he showed up on your family’s doorstep, a melancholy presence about him. You hadn’t understood the situation back then; you were still trying to wrap your head around it now.

It had been a quiet night in your home when he arrived, bringing a sharp knock to your door that your father answered to. As soon as your father saw him, something shifted in the air. You had never seen your father so vulnerable before; even in his mistakes, he was too proud to admit defeat. Gandalf had invited himself into the parlor, speaking quietly to your mother and father while the fire in the hearth crackled on. Peering through the door, you had tried to eavesdrop, but your mother’s soft sobs were enough to let you know the severity of your circumstances.

Your father, in his efforts to right his wrongs, was now in debt to several people he had loaned from, all of which came from notoriously criminal backgrounds. Even in his effort to make things right, all he had made were enemies. As collateral now, it had come to Gandalf’s attention that the man your father was the most indebted to had placed a bounty on your head as incentive. Your life now hung in the balance because of your father’s selfish thinking. It was either your head or your father’s debt.

You hated your father for bringing this upon your family. You hated that you now had to travel with this old and beaten-down wizard to somewhere unknown simply for the sake of your safety. And worst of all, you hated that when it came time to say your goodbyes, your mother and father hadn’t even given you the courtesy of explaining just how fucked up life would be for you starting now. Your mother was too grieved, and your father was too proud.

“Ashes to ashes; dust to dust. All we have is each other’s trust.”

None of that rang true in your heart anymore; your family’s creed meant nothing to you. You couldn’t trust the people who had raised you anymore and you barely even knew this gray man who led your journey. But for now, even despite your wishes, Gandalf was all you had.

He was the only one who had given you the common kindness to explain what was going on. According to him, the man who had placed a bounty on you operated out of Gondor, meaning that your home was no longer a safe space. Without explaining why, Gandalf told you that if your assassination were to prove successful, it would mean an all-out war within Gondor. You had never thought your life would hold so much weight; you were a noble, but you kept to yourself when it came to society. Though you didn’t appreciate the morbid thought, surely your death would mean very little to the infrastructure of such a mighty city as Minas Tirith?

But Gandalf thought otherwise and strongly enough to lead you farther north than you had ever been: past the Brown Lands and trailing along the outskirts of Mirkwood, now following the path of the River Running. Many times in your journey, you asked him where you were headed, the toil of the path wearing you down.

“To Erebor, my dear Y/N,” he had spoken. “There’s a king there who owes me quite the favor.”

Two and a half months had passed by and at last, you were in Erebor. Deep and dark stone walls welcomed you inside as Gandalf brought you into the dwarven kingdom, but you felt no emotion other than dread. You knew very well that this would have to become your new home; Gandalf had informed you many times that this was the safest place you could hide. As long as you resided here, none of your father’s enemies could find you. But even within the brilliant glittering caverns of Erebor, you felt lonely. You couldn’t call this foreign place your home, but you knew Gondor would never be fit to have you again.

Gandalf, however, could never have been more welcomed to your eyes. Almost every person here knew his name and face, many of whom attempted to stop and chat with him. How long was he staying? Had he met with Thorin yet? When would he be leaving? Would they see another grand show of fireworks?

That last question was asked the most, which made it the most confusing to you. In your eyes, he was simply a graying man with too much wisdom (but not enough to share) and a love for smoking his pipeweed.

Gandalf didn’t seem to have much time for these questions though, often explaining that he had matters with the king to discuss. Matters that involved you, you presumed. And that explanation was all it took for dwarrows to stop their conversations and let you through. It was a small but comforting sentiment you appreciated.

At last, they found themselves in the council room. A long table, surrounded by chairs, ran down the middle. At the head of the table was a seat a little more grand with the crown of Durin carved into the top. The room expertly blended the natural beauty of the rock with the bold geometric patterns of dwarven architecture. But while this was all breathtaking, it only heightened your anxieties, unsure of what would happen once the king arrived.

You had heard of this king, Thorin Oakenshield. Armed with his father’s secret key, he and his men had driven Smaug out of Erebor and reclaimed the kingdom for their brethren five years ago. Everyone in Middle-Earth knew of this tale. It was said to have been an impossible task. But the dwarves of Erebor were strong in might and in will; that much you understood.

“What’s going to happen to me now?” You asked in the silence of the hall, interrupting Gandalf as he smoked his pipe. He seemed to be at much more ease than he had been on the journey.

“I can persuade Thorin to let you reside here,” he puffed. “No man from Gondor would think to step foot in these halls so soon after a dragon’s demise. It will buy you time for now.”

“How long am I to stay here?” Your voice seemed to echo in the empty room.

Gandalf frowned, setting his pipe down. “That I am unsure of.”

You kept your gaze fixed on the table, holding back quiet tears. If you spoke again, you were sure you’d start crying. You didn’t want to be seen crying in front of the king or anyone else for that matter. This was your new reality now. You would have to live amongst the dwarven warriors and craftsmen of Erebor.

Gandalf leaned in, sensing your distress. “Keep a strong will, Y/N. These people will help, I’m sure.”

The oak doors of the conference hall creaked open and your attention was soon fixated on the four figures that made their way inside, seating themselves at the table.

Leading the way was Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain. He took his place in the ornate chair at the head of the table, facing Gandalf who sat across from him. His dark hair held streaks of silver that hinted at his age and strength, and the multitude of furs decorating his body simply showed off his regal status. He was an intimidating presence.

Behind him entered an older dwarf, whose white hair grew so long it seemed to touch the floor. He kept himself close to Thorin, standing behind his chair.

And lastly entered two younger dwarves, though their age seemed to defy the battle-worn glint in their eyes. Surely these two were the princes Gandalf had mentioned on your journey.

“Gandalf, you old sod!” The white-haired dwarf smiled. “How long has it been now?”

“Gandalf!” The brown-haired prince grinned. “We thought we’d never see you again!”

“Too long, Balin. And Kíli, you look well.” The wizard replied, earning a gruff hum from Thorin.

“Too long, indeed.” He spoke, his voice deep and rich as it echoed in the room. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, unsure of how to feel with such an authoritative aura emanating from the king. “Why have you come now?”

It seemed the conversation was moving straight to business.

Gandalf took one last puff from his pipe before he put out the embers within. “I need your help.”

Thorin raised a brow, curious. “What could the Gray Wizard need that I could possibly give him?”

“Refuge, Thorin.” Gandalf said. “That is what I seek.”

“Who’s after you?” Balin asked, concern lacing his brow.

Gandalf shook his head. “Not for me, I’m afraid.” He turned to you, now introducing you to the group.

“This is Y/N. They’ve been my companion for a short time now as I have come in the hopes you will provide them refuge.”

“Refuge?” The blond-haired prince now spoke up. “From who?”

“Nobody of concern to you, I can assure you,” Gandalf said, but Thorin seemed displeased.

“You ask me to provide protection for someone we don’t know,” he said. “And you can’t give us the courtesy of knowing who their enemy is?”

“He’s a very powerful man who wouldn’t think to step foot on your mountain, Thorin Oakenshield. He’s of no danger to you.” Gandalf frowned, getting upset with the King’s stubborn nature.

This meeting was becoming more uncomfortable by the moment; you wished you could melt into your seat and disappear. Hadn’t Gandalf said the king owed him a favor? Why were you being met with such hostility? Why wouldn't Gandalf tell the King who was after you? These were the questions flooding your mind as you kept quiet to save your own skin.

“Five years, Gandalf.” The king began. “That’s how long our doors have been open to my people and the Men of Dale. In that time, we’ve been rebuilding everything that the dragon took from us. Our families have only just begun to heal. And amongst all this, you now ask me to harbor a foreign fugitive within our walls–”

“They are no fugitive!” Gandalf stood up abruptly, causing you to jump in your seat as suddenly it felt as though all of the lights went out, creating a harrowing shadow over the gray wizard. And just as quickly as the darkness had come, it left.

Gandalf drew a breath. “They’ve done nothing wrong. They’re a friend.”

“Thorin,” Balin whispered. “It would be wise to help the fellow out. Think of all Gandalf has done for us.”

Thorin Oakenshield sat silently, staring down Gandalf with an unreadable expression. The princes looked to the king, biting their own tongues as the silence hung in the air. No matter what would happen, they would stand with their uncle. Gandalf was a friend, but the king was right; Erebor had bigger priorities right now.

Feeling quite small, you brought your gaze back to the marble cut table. Your life hung in the balance with this decision, and yet it felt as though it had already ended; the tension in the room tightened around your throat like a noose. What good would a hostile refuge be in the face of death?

Gandalf held his position, staring down Thorin intently. You knew nothing of their history, but already it seemed that they were quite similar in their stubborn nature. And after a pause that felt like a lifetime, the King finally spoke.

“Three months.” He nodded. “And then I want them gone.”

“Now, Thorin–” Gandalf interjected, but was shushed by the King’s raised hand.

“We will provide them refuge for three months. And in that time, a bodyguard will be assigned to them; I’ll have them taught how to fight and fend for themself.” He turned to you, his piercing gaze bringing you away from the marble. “You won’t get far in the wild without those skills.”

Gandalf cleared his throat. “And then what?”

“And then I want them gone.” Thorin spoke. “You helped me once, Gandalf, but I have a kingdom to protect now. A home to rebuild.I have little time to deal with the affairs of men. This is as much as I can offer as repayment. Do we have a deal?”

Gandalf frowned at this, seeming displeased in the terms and conditions of protecting your life. Three months was such a short span of time for the wizard; he was unsure if it would even be enough time to provide you ample protection. You almost hoped he would rescind the offer, not feeling very welcomed by the dwarrow’s hostility.

“It is agreed,” Gandalf nodded. And so it was set. You would spend the next three months hiding in Erebor from an enemy you didn’t even have a name to associate with. An enemy whose secrecy seemed protected by Gandalf.

Thorin stood with the two princes and Balin, all who pushed their seats back in. “Y/N, I shall leave Fíli here to show you to your quarters. Do not hesitate to ask him any questions you may have. Gandalf, I pray you will find ample hospitality for the duration of your stay.”

And then they were gone, leaving you alone with Gandalf once more. Fíli, who you now recognized as the blonde-haired prince, stood silently outside of the room.

And just as they all left, you broke down into tears. Your voice cracked with sobs as your new reality finally began to set in for you. Gandalf walked over to you, lending a comforting hand on your shoulder as you let it all out. All the stress and anxiety and panic from the last two and half months culminated inside you, and it seemed this decision the King had made was the moment that finally broke you.

“I can never go home, can I?” You cried, your voice cracking.

“No, I’m afraid not.” Gandalf shook his head, his hand rubbing your shoulder in an effort to console you. “Not for now, at least.”

You sobbed, your hands wiping away tears which were quickly being refreshed. “Then when?”

Gandalf paused for a moment, thinking. “I shall ride for Gondor at first light. I can assure you, dear Y/N, that I won’t rest until I help your father to find these men. But until that happens,” he crouched down to meet you at eye level. “You must accept that this is your new life now. And it won’t be easy.”

“I think I need to be alone,” you spoke softly, your head in your hands. You felt Gandalf’s hand leave your shoulder, hearing the door shut shortly after. Tears continued to fall from your eyes, staining your clothes and wetting your skin in your despair. For the first time in your entire journey, you let everything out.

You hated all of this. You hated Thorin’s stubborn and hostile speaking. You hated that Gandalf refused to tell you the full picture. And most of all, you hated that you felt like you had to build yourself back up from the ground up. It was as if in all of this mess, you had lost a sense of who you were. And you hated that, too.

“Ashes to ashes; dust to dust. In times of change, one must adjust.”

It felt silly having a parody of your family creed bounce around in your mind, but it seemed to be the only calming thought that aided in grounding you back to your senses. A makeshift phrase to fit your situation. Minutes passed by as you finally finished your weeping and tried to wipe away the evidence on your face, only to be interrupted by a soft knocking on the oak doors.

“Just a moment.” Your voice came out a little strained, answering the knocks as if you lived here. You scoffed at the irony.

Pulling yourself together, you sighed at the state of your tear-stained clothes and puffy eyes. If the prince hadn’t known you were crying, it would surely be obvious now. But you were beyond caring right now, too focused on staying calm. You opened the oak doors, shuffling back into the main hall where the prince stood.

“Is everything alright?” He sounded concerned. You sighed.

“As fine as I can be, for now,” you spoke. He nodded in understanding, quickly moving the conversation along.

“I’ll show you your quarters, if you’re willing.” His voice was like crushed velvet and pleasing to the ears. He kept it soft, which was a nice change of pace from Thorin and Gandalf’s hostile tones.

“Please, lead the way,” you gestured ahead of yourself, obediently following behind him as he led you through the twists and turns of the city. There wasn’t much else you could do, given your current state.

Minutes later, you were sitting in your new lodgings for the next three months. It was similar in design to the halls and rooms you had already seen, full of deep golden accents and dwarven motifs carved into the walls. You were silently thankful that it was furnished, taking note of the solid oak nightstand that stood next to your canopy bed, the posts of which were carved down from the ceiling. Candles lit the room well for your eyes, and if you weren’t in such a dreaded state, you would’ve commented on the room’s majesty.

“Is it to your liking?” The blonde prince asked, and you turned around to meet his gaze again.

“Yes, thank you,” you said.

“I can bring some more linens and blankets by later tonight,” he gestured to the bed, which only had a single sheet covering it. “We’re not too used to holding guests here, not with the construction going on.” He spoke with a kind but matter-of-fact tone.

“That would be nice,” you nodded, your mind not fully focused on the conversation.

“My uncle will have your guard issued to you within the night,” he continued. “You can refer any of your questions to them, unless you have any you’d like to ask now?”

You looked down at your clothes, noting how sullied they were from your long journey. You had only packed one extra set and those too were soiled. “I don’t suppose it would be too much to ask for some new clothes?”

The prince nodded. “I’ll be sure to put an order in when I retrieve your linens. Is that all?”

You wanted to inquire about bathing as well, not caring for the way that your sweat and dirt clung to your skin. But you held your tongue, opting to ask someone in the morning. For now, the small wash basin in your room would help.

You shook your head. “I suppose so. Thank you…?”

You realized you didn’t know his name. You knew the King had mentioned it earlier, but it seemed that in your distress you couldn’t remember. Luckily, he seemed to understand you.

“Fíli,” he bowed. “At your service.”

“Fíli, yes,” you mused. “Thank you, Fíli.”

He gave a small smile at your thanks. “I’ll be off, then.”

You nodded in acknowledgment, watching as he left your doorway and disappeared down the vast hallway. A breath you didn’t know you were holding escaped your lips, and you looked back at your room to accustom yourself to your new surroundings.

On the other end of your room was a solid oak chest for storage, seated next to a tall candelabra that stood tall like a coat hanger. In the corner was a small washing basin to rinse your face or cleanse your hands. Lastly, the floor was covered in furs that protected your feet from the cold stone floors. You wondered what a royal bedroom looked like in this city; you’d like to compare them out of curiosity.

Now forced to face the silence as you awaited your guard to greet you (or Fíli to return with more blankets), you collapsed onto your new bed, the ache in your body calling to you after the day’s long events. It had been so long since you had slept in a proper bed; there had been very few inns along the length of your journey with Gandalf.

Your mind wandered to thoughts about the gray wizard. Who was he, really? You had never heard of Gandalf the Gray, but his presence was certainly known to your father. You could still remember the pale look in his eyes when he opened the doors to that strange man over two months ago; you had never seen your father so spooked in all your years.

And then there was the matter of the bounty on your head. Who was the man responsible? And why had he chosen you rather than your father for such a cruel fate? You reckoned it was to act as incentive, urging your father to pay his debt faster. There was no use in asking Gandalf for the truth; you doubted he would be willing to share after putting up a wall to Thorin’s questions. But even these small speculations didn’t calm your nerves.

The sound of running footsteps snapped you out of your reverie as you pushed yourself out of your bed to peer out of your still-open doorway. To your surprise, the brown-haired prince from before seemed to be bolting after a much-older dwarf who looked supremely unhappy.

The new dwarf was taller (though that wasn’t saying much) and stockier, his muscles littered with scars and tattoos that showed off his strength and his background. His tattooed head had been recently shaved, and his beard had been braided into his sideburns to make way for what seemed like a permanent scowl on his face.

You quickly disappeared from your doorway, out of sight as you listened in on their conversation.

“Dwalin, wait!” The young prince called after him, desperation laced in his tone. “You know that I can’t possibly do it!”

“I shan’t be summoned for something asinine like babysitting, Kíli.” The older dwarf, Dwalin, grunted. “Don’t bother with your uncle, I’ll tell him myself.”

“Well then who’s supposed to keep watch? It’s only for three months!” Kíli laughed as he spoke but it didn’t seem out of humor.

“Aye, and three months too long, for my tastes,” Dwalin huffed, his footsteps now passing by your door. “Have your brother do it, or Ori. The lad’s old enough for something like this now.”

“Ori?” Kíli scoffed in disbelief. “He might have fought a dragon, but he’s no bodyguard.” His pace quickened, passing your door shortly after. “Why do you think Thorin chose you?”

“I don’t care to know, I’m telling him my mind.” Dwalin held firm in his tone. “If you can’t do it, then find someone else and make it their problem. We’ve got too much to do these days and I won’t waste it on some stupid task like this.”

Dwalin continued on but you could hear Kíli stop in his tracks as he let out a frustrated groan. Your stomach turned at the idea of having someone like Dwalin be your bodyguard, and silently thanked the gods that he refused you. Anyone with an attitude like that wouldn’t make you feel very safe, that’s for sure.

You began slowly closing your door, not wanting to eavesdrop any longer when you heard a new set of footsteps that were coming from where Kíli and Dwalin had just been. You halted in your movement, not wanting the newcomer to notice your door shutting. You hid behind your door now, listening again, mentally scolding yourself for this childish behavior.

Kíli gasped. “Oh, you won’t believe how good you are with timing, brother!” His footsteps passed by your door once again, heading towards the other person, who you now knew was Fíli. You figured he had returned to bring you the blankets.

“So I’ve been told,” he chuckled. “What are you getting at?” His footsteps halted and you assumed they were standing in the middle of the hall now.

“Dwalin won’t do it.” Kíli said.

“And what exactly won’t he do?” Fíli asked for clarification.

“Thorin assigned him to be the bodyguard for the noble from earlier; he flat out refused.” Kíli huffed, annoyed.

Fíli paused, thinking. “Does Uncle know about this?”

“He will soon at the rate Dwalin was stomping away. He tried to push it off onto me!” Kíli spoke the last part in a hushed whisper, as if he had taken personal offense.

“And I’m assuming you declined?”

“I haven’t got the time, you know me.” Kíli scoffed. “Dwalin said to have you or Ori be put to the task.”

“Ori?” Fíli laughed. “The lad’s too busy restoring our records. Besides, he’s better armed with a pen than a sword—“

“Exactly what I said, more or less. You’d be a fine candidate, though.” You could hear the cheeky tone in the younger prince’s voice as he tried to push the task onto his brother’s plate.

“You jest, brother.” Fíli was not amused.

“I do not!”

Fíli sighed for a moment, his voice quiet. “Will Dwalin really deny his duty?”

A silence hung between them, as if they both had silently answered the question. A part of you hoped Fíli would agree to being your bodyguard. Though you knew none of them, he seemed like the most well fit. Dwalin was much too angry. Kíli seemed eager to not take up the task, either.

“You owe me for this,” Fíli huffed.

“So you’ll do it?” Kíli seemed quite relieved at the decision.

“I haven’t got the time to deal with an angry Dwalin right now and I have even less time for your squabbling, Kí. So fine. You can go tell Uncle.”

“What, and piss him off?” Kíli seemed devastated.

“Consider it your payment for shuffling it onto me. Now go before I change my mind.” Fíli stood firm against his brother, and soon you heard footsteps fading away.

A sigh rang through the hall and Fíli’s footsteps continued your direction, prompting you to quickly flee to your bed. The last thing you needed was for these dwarves to think you were spying on them after begging for refuge.

Three soft knocks forced you to look inconspicuous as Fíli opened the cracked door. “Here are some more blankets.”

You cleared your throat quickly, trying to regain your composure. “Ah, thank you again.” You stood back up, walking over to him as you received the linens. “Oh, and the clothes?”

“I’ll be sure to fetch you some first thing in the morning, when the market opens back up.” He gave a short smile after bowing again. “I’ve been assigned to look after you starting today.”

“As my bodyguard?” You raised a brow, feigning innocence.

“Watchman, trainer, bodyguard. That’s what I’m to provide, yes.” He nodded.

“I see.” You looked awkwardly at the empty bed in your room. “You don’t have to share—“

“Oh, not at all,” he quickly answered, catching wind of your intent. “But my room won't be far, so don’t hesitate to call on me for anything. Well, mostly anything. I do appreciate my sleep here and there.”

You gave a weak laugh to his joke, still trying to ease your stress as you processed all of this information. “And where exactly is your room?”

He stepped out of the doorway, pointing down the hall. “The first right and then the second door on the left.”

You mused the directions under your breath. “First right—“

“You’ll have time to remember, don’t worry. I’ll show you tomorrow when we go to the tailor’s.” He peered back inside your room, checking everything. “Gandalf says you’ll be safe here, so there’s no need to rush.”

“Are you close with him?” You asked.

“Close enough to trust him. He speaks in riddles but he’s helped my family greatly.” Another nod from the blonde, this one followed by a soft smile. “He means well, despite his temper.”

You nodded, not having any more to say. How late was it at this point? The ache in your body was ringing in your bones, lulling you to sleep as you tried to stay awake.

“Is everything alright?” He asked, raising a brow.

“It’s late,” was all you could say. He hummed in agreement.

“I’ll leave you, then. I’ll be sure to wake you up first thing in the morning so we can fetch you some new clothes.”

You felt your head growing heavier and heavier with each nod, finding it harder to speak as sleep called to you. Before you realized it, you and Fíli had exchanged goodbyes and he had shut your door, retiring to his own room.

This was your new life now.

Morning came all too quickly as you awoke to three knocks, just like yesterday. Their sound was louder than last nights, as any wake up call would be. You sprang up, bewildered and bleary-eyed. You always had trouble sleeping in new beds and this one was no exception; you had spent most of your night staring at the ceiling and contemplating your new circumstances.

“Y/N? Are you in there?” Fíli’s voice called through the wooden door and you stumbled out of bed to open it, a slight groan leaving your throat as your body cracked from soreness.

“Yes, sorry,” you apologized, opening the door. A part of you was thankful you were still wearing last night’s clothes rather than sleeping naked. “Is it morning already?”

“It’s noon, actually. I figured I’d let you sleep in. I managed to pick up some tunics and trousers for you to try on and see if they fit. The trousers may run a little short on you,” he kept explaining, showing you the clothes he had brought.

Noon?! It was that late in the day already? Your mind was reeling with a headache from lack of sleep and you groaned, reaching a hand to your temple.

“Are they not to your liking?” Fíli raised a brow. “There’s no point in being picky, you know–”

“What? No, not at all,” you waved him off. “Sorry… I’ve never been made for mornings.”

“Or afternoons, it seems.” He frowned. “I’ll leave these here with you, then.”

You took the clothes from him with a nod, staring at the naturally dyed linens in your hands. “I don’t suppose I could bathe before I change into these, could I?”

He cleared his throat, shifting from foot to foot. He seemed either willing to leave or as if he were reaching the end of his patience with you. You didn’t like either option.

“I could show you around to the baths, if you’d like.”

“Baths? There’s multiple?” You raised a brow, confused.

“Well yes, they’re public. There has to be multiple for a city like this. It would wreak havoc if there was only one.” He looked at you as if you were the crazy one, and it wasn’t making the situation any less awkward.

“And they’re open right now?” You spoke slowly, trying to process this information.

“Of course they are, they never close. That would be even worse than having only one.”

You didn’t have the energy to even inquire as to why that would be worse, not wanting your ignorance to be seen as stupidity. “Are they busy this time of day?”

Fíli looked away, thinking to himself before he answered. “If you’re looking for privacy, then you’re better off going in the wee hours when everyone’s asleep. I believe that should answer your question better?”

You nodded. “It does… Would you be willing to take me later?”

He sighed, pondering the idea. It was certainly a tall ask for a dwarf who had already told you he likes his beauty sleep. “Tonight. But learn the path so you can take yourself next time. Don’t need anyone getting any wrong ideas, least of all my brother.”

You smiled in relief at the thought of a bath. You could certainly tough up the dirt for a few more hours. “You have my thanks.”

“Anyways, it’s best we make use of the day for you. Uncle told me to show you around today so you don’t get lost.” He nodded, shifting again from foot to foot. He was eager to do more than just watch after some stranger, you could tell. A part of you felt bad he had gotten stuck with watching you, but this was what Thorin’s terms were.

“Understood. I’ll get changed then. I’ll be out in a moment.” You shut the door on him, laying your new clothes out on your bed. Even if you couldn’t bathe right away, wearing clean clothes would certainly help boost your spirits.

There was certainly one thing you appreciated about dwarven clothes, and that was the sheer size of them. You were certain that any of these tunics would fit a tad oversized, which was a nice break from your form-fitting clothes from back home. You slipped your alabaster-toned tunic on, the sleeves running a bit short on you as you adjusted the fabric. And the pants were no better; they stopped halfway down your calves. But you found the odd fit charming rather than upsetting, glad to simply be wearing something clean.

You tucked your tunic in, tying your old belt around the waist to keep your pants from sagging or possibly falling, and for the first time in your journey, you actually felt comfortable. Indeed, now that you had spent a night in your new home, you were beginning to see things in a much cozier light, despite how scary the new surroundings could seem.

You opened the door, stepping out into the hall with Fíli, now a little more ready for the day despite the ache in your body and the headache wearing on.

“Lead the way.”

Hours had gone by and Fíli had dragged you nearly the entire length of the kingdom. At least, that’s what it felt like. The entire day seemed to go on with him showing you the forges or the market or the grocer, spewing information at you like some tour guide from hell. Granted, that wasn’t to say that Fíli was hellish, but rather you were finding it impossible to retain all off this information in one day.

Now you two were headed to the Library of Records, where all of Erebor’s historical texts resided. All the hallways seemed to blend in with one another, but Fíli didn’t seem too bothered by your aloofness. You were grateful he was being patient with you, or as patient as a dwarf on a mission could be.

“You’ll have to start pulling your weight in some way here, otherwise you’ll starve,” he explained as you two turned a corner.

“As in?”

“You’ll need to get a job, surely.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek, thinking. “I don’t have any skills that would be of use here. I’m not a blacksmith or a miner or even a farmer.”

“Then what did you do back home?” Fíli raised a brow, shocked.

His question seemed to shock you as well. Indeed, what did you do? Now that you actually thought about it, you never had to do anything; your father had provided everything for you. Other than wandering the streets to escape the tension in your home, you didn't do much in your youth besides reading and painting.

“I painted?” You said, but it came out as more of a question, as if you were asking if your answer was acceptable.

It seemed enough to surprise Fíli. “Portraits?”

“And landscapes. I especially liked painting flowers.” The thought brought a small smile to your face.

“Were you any good?” He asked.

“My mother thought so.” You muttered, a bittersweet feeling tugging at your heart now. You knew there was no longer a home for you in Gondor, but it didn’t stop you from missing parts of it.

“That’s good, then.” He nodded, leading you up a staircase.

“It is?” You asked.

“There’s plenty of us here that don’t have the money to pay for things, especially after so much of the King’s Vault went towards construction costs. The economy here has been a tad unorthodox since the days of the dragon, so many people trade instead.” He explained. You quickly caught on that he gestured with his hands often while speaking.

“Trade?”

“Like for example, this morning I traded a dagger I had made for the clothes you’re wearing.”

You looked down at your outfit, now seeing it in a new light. “And that was enough?”

He nodded. “People need things, especially in Erebor and Dale. The dragon took so much from us that we’ve learned to take what we can get. I reckon you could trade some of your paintings if you got back into practice.”

You hummed, rolling the idea over in your mind. “You really think so?”

“Oh, absolutely. Especially the elder dwarrowdams at the market, they can’t resist a new decoration for their homes.” He grinned at the thought. “We can get you some supplies later.”

You gave a soft smile in return. “I’d like that very much.”

The day was truly wearing you down now; between all the walking and your headache, you felt absolutely spent. You and Fíli had already visited the market twice, where he had traded more of his own wares to buy you some basic painting supplies. There hadn’t been very much to choose from, but even the small colors he had supplied you with were more than you could have asked for on your second day here.

Now, thankfully, he had given you a break from walking after you subtly voiced your complaints, letting you two enjoy the quiet and solitude of one of Erebor’s many libraries.

“This one has already been restored,” Fíli explained. “Nobody will bother you here.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, rubbing your temples as you tried to mitigate your pain. “Thank you, Fíli.”

He gave a silent nod before setting his things down at the scribing table you had sat at and meandering the shelves, reading the spines of tomes and scriptures that decorated the shelves.

Guilt picked at your brain as you studied his moving figure. Eavesdropping on his conversation last night hadn’t given you any sort of solace with the fact that this wasn’t a position he had chosen. Then again, any bodyguard assigned to you wouldn’t have been because they chose it; it was the King’s orders. It was the deal provided to you and Gandalf by Thorin. But something about the situation still didn’t sit right in your mind. The last thing you wanted to be was a burden to another stranger.

“Fíli,” you mused under your breath as you thought, but it hadn’t been quiet enough.

Fíli peered around a bookshelf. “Did you say something?”

Your mouth hung open for a second, searching for words. Perhaps this was as good a time as any to sprinkle in some friendly conversation.

“Sorry, I was just thinking to myself,” you explained.

“I see,” he nodded. “Anything I should be aware of?”

You thought for a moment, thinking of what you should ask him.

“I suppose I was wondering what you’d be doing if you weren’t here with me,” you said, picking at your cuticles as a nervous habit.

“As in my normal day-to-day?” He asked. You nodded, clarifying.

He cleared his throat. “Well let’s see… I think I’m usually with my brother around this time; we’ve been helping with deliveries this week in the Forges.”

“Deliveries?” You set your hands back down, taking interest.

“Meals and supplies, mostly. Though I think Bofur and Nori are helping him out right now.”

“Are you and your brother close?”

He smiled, breathing in before he spoke. “More than anything. Though if you ask me, sometimes I’d say we’re too close.”

You raised an eyebrow at this, taking his openness as an opportunity to learn more about him. “How so?

“Sometimes we get each other caught up in rather… tough situations,” he laughed. “One of us is always covering for the other in times of need because we know the other wouldn’t dare say no.”

“Like what?” You smiled at the thought of relying so strongly on someone like a sibling. It certainly must come in handy.

Fíli seemed caught off guard by this question, looking away as he answered. “My brother wasn’t too keen on watching over you, so I took over…”

You already knew that but for some reason, hearing it still hurt a little as guilt ate away at you. Fíli looked back at you and could somehow tell, his expression quickly growing sympathetic.

“It’s nothing personal, I can assure you.” He waved his hands again as he apologized.

You gave a small nod and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I assumed. I wouldn’t be too keen to be in your situation, either.”

A short silence fell over the both of you as the awkward tension set in. What were you supposed to say after that?

Luckily, Fíli seemed to want to keep the ball rolling. You appreciated that he seemed to be putting in the effort.

“What do you think you’ll paint first, now that you have some supplies?” He gestured to the leather pouch you had set on the table, full of brushes and paints.

You looked down at the pouch, sighing. It was a good question and one you didn’t have an answer to.

“I’m not really sure,” you said. “I usually always used references back home. Sometimes I’d be out for hours just sitting in the field I was painting so I could make it as accurate as possible.”

“You also did portraits though, right? Would my likeness help?” He smirked. “I’ve been told I add charm to any portrait.”

Caught off guard by his sudden flirtatious comment, you rolled your eyes. “Like I said, I prefer landscapes. I also don’t paint people I just met.”

He waved you off. “It was a jest, don’t get all smart with me now.” He sighed, chuckling to himself. “My mother would be grateful if you did, though.”

“Your mother?” You raised a brow.

“She’s attempting to have me start courting some of the dams here, and apparently it starts with a good portrait.” He fiddled with the beaded braids of his beard. “I’ve always preferred someone’s real face, though. Paintings can hide so much.”

“You’ve never seen an honest painting, then.” You scoffed, then immediately caught yourself. “Sorry.”

He smiled softly, looking at you with an expression in his eyes that you couldn’t discern. “Speak your mind, I won’t complain.”

You laughed through your nose, running a hand through your hair as you cracked your neck and stretched. Perhaps this dynamic between you two wasn’t going to be as awkward as you thought.

Now two weeks into your stay, you had found yourself in a familiar routine alongside Fíli. Mornings you had to yourself, often going to the market to find something to eat while Fíli would be running his own errands elsewhere. He’d rejoin you in the afternoon, teaching you how to defend yourself in the privacy of the royal family’s training halls. Then at night, the two of you would share a meal. Kíli would often join you two for dinner before parting ways, usually ending with you retiring to the bathhouses.

Your free time had also allowed you to begin painting again; most of your pieces were studies of your room or the market. Being able to tap back into your hobby had immensely helped you grow comfortable in Erebor, as you allowed yourself to have something familiar in a kingdom so unknown. Just like Fíli suggested, you had even begun trading your artwork at the market, often painting personal portraits that older dwarrowdams requested for their husbands.

You also began to keep a diary — though you refused to call it that. Rather than being addressed to the journal, you started each entry with ‘Dear Fíli’. It was silly and you hoped he would never find it, but you found it much easier to write your accounts if they were addressed to a person. And being that he was the only person you really spoke to these days, save for his brother, it felt convenient.

Speaking of Fíli, your attention was drawn from the latest sketch you were working on as three soft knocks sounded on your door. You could tell it was him based on how he knocked at this point, bidding him entry as you erased a small mistake in your outline.

He opened your door, walking in to admire the sketch behind you. “What’s this one going to be?”

“The dam who runs the spice stall, Bralva,” you spoke, careful to keep your pencil strokes light.

“I don’t recall her hair being that red,” he mused.

“She has trouble washing it, it’s much shinier when it’s clean,” you said. He hummed in response.

“How were your deliveries?” You asked, setting your pencil down finally as you faced him.

“Short and quick, thankfully,” he sighed. “I had some extra time afterwards, so I managed to stop by Bombur’s bakery and order some pastries.”

You perked up at the idea of sweets. “What kind?”

“That’s for you to know later. Consider them as an incentive for training today.” He grinned.

You sighed, thinking of how sore you were just from yesterday’s training. You had already quickly learned a lot about Fíli in these two weeks, including his tenacity for training. Even though you knew he was pulling his punches, he was still a formidable enemy.

“Is it time for that already?” A groan escaped your lips as you thought of dodging his attacks for another two hours.

“Practice is better when it’s consistent, Y/N. Besides, you’re doing great so far.” He waved your complaints off. “Just think of the fresh pastries!”

Another thing you had learned about Fíli was despite the fact that he was the Crown Prince, he was almost entirely as immature as his younger brother, and even cockier to boot. He always asked when the next portrait you drew would be of him; when you told him you didn’t plan on doing so, he’d claim it was because his looks were too powerful to contain in any art medium. He always said it in a joking tone, of course, but you knew a part of him meant it. It almost made you want to paint him perfectly out of spite. Almost.

“Alright, fine. Let’s get a move on,” you said, putting away your pencils.

“Fix your stance, it’s too weak,” Fíli reminded you for the umpteenth time before kicking your legs from under you.

You crashed onto the floor once again, your body both sore and numb from the repeated falls onto the floor. You were grateful it was carpeted and not the solid stone of the mountain.

“If you would just give me the time to do so,” you trailed off, quickly getting back on your feet in enough time to dodge a swing of his fist. You used the momentum of his swing to push and turn him around, but he only stumbled for a moment.

He was a seasoned warrior, after all. And you were just some cushiony noble who hadn’t fought a day in their life.

“Time is short in combat,” he instructed, quickly dodging a kick from you as you tried to draw him further away from you. “Your opponent isn’t going to give you a time out just because you need to readjust your feet.”

You stepped back as he now approached you, aiming targeted punches that barely missed your chest and shoulders as you haphazardly dodged and redirected them. “Then maybe you should try and teach me something new instead of constantly knocking me do–”

And down went your body back onto the floor due to Fíli’s attacks. You groaned, this time writhing on the ground instead of quickly returning to your feet. You were growing tired of dodging and bobbing and falling and weaving through his assaults.

Perhaps it was out of pity or sympathy, but it seemed Fíli was also ready to take a break as he grabbed his waterskin and took a drink. You watched him from the floor as his back was turned to you; it seemed you finally had an opening now.

Quietly, you crawled nearer until you reached with outstretched arms to grab his ankle, pulling it instantly towards you. With a grunt of surprise, he stumbled back and you were all too ready to express your victory. But gravity took over as he plummeted backwards now, falling on top of you in a tangle of limbs and pain.

You had won, but at what cost?

You winced in pain, having hit your head on impact as a groan left your lips. You were also now soaked with the blood of your second victim: Fíli’s waterskin. This didn’t feel like a victory.

Even Fíli needed a moment before he could even move, groaning in pain as he tried to readjust himself off of you. “What was that supposed to be?”

“A small win,” you said, rubbing the back of your head in pain.

“And was it worth it?” He laughed weakly.

You rolled your eyes, refusing to look at him. “Oh, shut up.”

Suddenly, you felt a new hand massaging the back of your head. You quickly turned to see Fíli kneeling beside you, checking you for injuries.

“Did you hit it?” He asked, inquiring about your head.

You couldn’t even speak, instead giving him a small nod.

Gods, you must’ve really hit your head! Why else were you finding yourself flustered when a wet, warm and roguishly handsome dwarf was this close to you? And looking at you with such care in his eyes? Wait, did you say handsome?

He leaned back, retracting his hand as he stood up, offering you a hand to help. You tried your best to snap out of your trance, but it was proving to be harder than expected. Had he always looked this good when you two were training? Had his muscles always glowed in his sweaty state?

Gods. You thought you might have a concussion at this rate.

“I think it’s best we call it a night for now,” he frowned, quickly grabbing the pastries from earlier. “Let’s get some food in you and then have your head checked out.”

You furrowed your brows, confused. “What? No, it’s fine, I’ll just need—“

“It could be serious, Y/N.” Fíli’s tone held firm. “These floors aren’t exactly soft.”

Finally, you were coming back to your senses. There was no point in arguing either, not with the serious look he was giving you. “Okay. Let’s go and eat.”

After dinner, Fíli had taken you straight to the infirmary, not wasting a moment to get your head checked out. You were thankful for his swiftness too, feeling quite dizzy after dinner. Your vision seemed to focus in and out and your head was throbbing. Fíli had to help walk you to the infirmary, his stony expression not helping your emotions in your fugue state.

“You bruised your head,” the medic had told you, his tone stern as his fingers tangled themselves in your hair to look at your scalp. “Not too bad; there's no blood. We'll need to be weary of the severity, these things are hard to treat when they’re serious. You’ll have to be put on rest for at least a week.”

“A week?” You had asked with a frown.

“If the pain or your vision gets worse then it’ll have to be even longer. Come back and see me immediately if that’s the case..” The medic shuffled over to his shelves of dried herbs, gathering a collection in a sachet for you as he spoke.

“How serious could it be?” Fíli asked.

“It’s hard to tell with bumps on the head,” the medic replied. “Especially when there isn’t any blood. My uncle couldn’t speak for months because of it. And I know you're aware of Bifur's case.”

“Then what do you suggest I do?” You asked, ignoring the mention of Bifur. You’d have to ask Fíli about that later if you could remember.

The medic finished his rummaging, now placing ten sachets of herbs in a small pouch before giving it to you. “Brewed in a tea, these should help with the pain. I can always give you more, but try to use them sparingly.”

“And I suppose sparring is out of the question?” Fíli already knew the answer but he asked so you could hear it.

“Very much so. Nothing strenuous on the mind or the body for the next week. Consider yourself with a lot of free time to do nothing in the coming days,” the medic said. “Remember: if the pain or your vision worsens over the week, come and see me. I pray it won’t be that serious — the bruise is very faint.”

And now here you were, lying in your bed and staring at the open ceiling of your canopy, your head throbbing in pain. You had hoped lying down would’ve provided any solace, but with your dizziness and blurry vision, it didn’t seem to help much.

“Here, drink this.” Fíli handed you a mug of some dark and musty smelling liquid. You winced upon smelling it. “Come on, it’ll help. You heard him.”

You sat up, receiving the mug and immediately closing your eyes to avoid the nausea. “How fast will it work?”

“You won’t know until you drink it, Y/N.”

You didn’t have the time, patience or energy to argue, bringing the mug to your lips and drinking. You were grateful Fíli hadn’t brewed it too hot; it was the perfect temperature not to scald you.

“Thank you again,” you breathed, opening your eyes again. Fíli had gone through the trouble to help you back to your room and brew your tea for you, checking on you constantly. “For everything.”

“I’m just doing my duty,” he assured you as he blew out some of the candles in your room, making it dimmer. “There. Bright enough to see but not enough to blind. Is that better?”

You nodded. “Much. You’re so good at this.”

“I’ve had to help my mother tend to Kíli more than a few times in my youth,” he chuckled. “He was never as good as me when it came to climbing trees. Sure knew how to fall, though.”

“Did he ever have a bruised head like me?”

“Oh, he’s had it worse than you, believe me. He’s almost died before.” His tone was softer as he spoke.

“That sounds much nicer than living with this,” you gestured to your head.

Fíli smiled softly, sitting on your storage chest. “There’s no need for morbid jokes like that; you’re not dying.”

It sure felt like it. The throbbing was constant, like soldiers marching right on top of your brain. You were sure you’d wake up the next day with footsteps all over you.

Thankfully, your vision had settled a little with the dimmer light. “I think I’ll be going to bed soon,” you sighed.

Fíli shook his head. “Not yet, not until your symptoms improve with the tea. That’s what the medic said. That’s how we’ll know if you’re actually alright to sleep.”

“But it’s been hours since then,” you said. “I’m so tired.”

“And you can sleep soundly once you’ve started feeling better. That’s an order.”

You waved him off, knowing it was impossible to argue with him. He was so many things, and stubborn was one of them. Cocky, immature and stubborn.

“I’ll keep you company until anything improves.” He said, watching you take another gulp of the tea.

Cocky. Immature. Stubborn.

Cocky. He had kept overpowering you in training today, knocking you down all the time as a means of teaching you to dodge better. Maybe it was the pain making you bitter, but you still felt sore about today’s training. Very sore.

Immature. He had knocked you down multiple times, all with his own special comedic timing. Prick.

Stubborn. And now, after all of this, he wouldn’t leave your side; you weren’t even sure of how long it would be for. Great.

But you knew you were just being delusional. Sure, he was often teasing you about your portraits or overpowering you in training, but he hadn’t been that way since your injury. It was like you were seeing a whole new side to him. He was making your tea and helping you get to the medic. He was even staying by your side to keep you company and keep an eye on your symptoms.

Maybe it was the head injury, but you were starting to think that he cared, even if just a little.

You took another gulp, rolling your eyes at your own inner monologue. It was definitely the head injury.

Everything about your mandated rest only seemed to frustrate you. Sure, you could do everything that you normally could do before, save for training, but having to go to sleep with musty tea and headaches every night wasn’t exactly paradise.

You often resigned yourself to your room for most of the day, painting out of stress or frustration at the fact that this injury was taking so long to heal. You had tried walking around in the markets to get some steps in, but the bright lights and noise of the vendors’ stalls only irritated your mind more. For that reason you often spent time hiding away in libraries for fresh air when you were sick of your room’s four walls.

Fíli was around less, too; with you out of commission, he had taken on more deliveries and visited you less. As your bodyguard, he was still obligated to be by your side, but you had agreed it would be easier if he wasn’t sitting in your room all day with you. He had duties, after all. In these last five days, you wouldn’t see him until he joined you in the late afternoon, bringing dinner with him for you two to share a meal.

You had come to appreciate this sentiment greatly. It was amazing how much some friendly interaction seemed to help you, especially when he was always checking in on how you were feeling. Like clockwork, you would find your painting sessions interrupted by the smell of fresh food and conversation. But once he would retire to his own room, the boredom would attack again.

Despite the boredom the healing process brought you, it wasn’t all for naught. Your vision had already gone back to normal and you found yourself less and less dizzy as the days went on by. But the throbbing in your head (while much less than before) was constant and it drove you mad. Sleeping at night had become a tall task; at times it felt as though the tea wasn’t proving to be as strong as it had in the beginning.

Tonight was another sleepless night, the candle dripping wax as it lit up the newest journal entry you were writing; you had been making many entries to help you journal through this tough time. Most of them were about your injury or your boredom, but tonight was different.

This one was about Fíli. In fact, the last one had also been about Fíli. It was starting to become a pattern for you due to a rather unfortunate circumstance.

You were having dreams about him.

Maybe it was your concussion or the fact that you found yourself lonely every now and again in the night but you kept finding yourself dreaming of Fíli.

You chalked it up to your mind trying to find something distracting to cure your endless fits of boredom, opting to write these dreams and feelings down as a means of getting them out of your head.

You set your pencil down, reading over the first page.

Dear Fíli,

I awake to thoughts of you yet again. Have you always looked like firelight, or have the effects of my headaches finally caught up to me? Your hair is that of melted glass. I dearly want to touch it. Wrap my fingers in it. I wonder if it is soft. I wonder if you are soft.

All too quickly, you found yourself disturbed by what you had written. This was insane! You felt crazy writing about how pretty the dwarf looked in your dreams. Nothing about this felt normal to you, all of it felt foreign, especially the dreams you were having.

Flustered, you put away your letter, hoping the thoughts would leave your mind if the reminders were out of sight. You were just lonely, right? Lonely and isolated due to needing rest, that was all.

Knock, knock, knock!

You jumped in your seat, a hand flying to your chest as Fíli’s knocks startled you out of your thoughts. Quickly, you made sure the letters were well hidden under your painting supplies before you opened the door, trying your best to look as normal as possible.

“Fíli? Is something the matter?” You furrowed your brows, confused on why he would be here so late in the night. You two had already eaten dinner and parted your separate ways.

He grinned, holding another bag of pastries in his hands. He must’ve visited Bombur again. “I bring good news. May I come in?”

You opened the door wider before returning to your bed. Fíli made himself comfortable on your storage chest. “The bakery is open this late?”

He chuckled, handing you a fresh pastry, the smell bringing a smile to your face. “Bombur’s pulling an all nighter to make sure his stock is ready for tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow night?” Your mouth was full of food as you spoke, quickly covering your mouth as you chewed and swallowed. “What’s tomorrow?”

Fíli’s eyes widened, looking at you as if you had hit your head. Oh, the irony.

“Haven’t you heard?”

“Heard what?”

“Mahal, did I not tell you?” He genuinely seemed flabbergasted and your curiosity was wearing thin.

“Fíli, what on earth is it?” You asked.

“There’s a banquet tomorrow night, Y/N. Everyone’s been talking about it at the market.” He finally took a bite of his own pastry, the heavenly scent permeating the room.

“I haven’t been to the market in two days, you knew that,” you rolled your eyes, but the idea of a banquet piqued your interest greatly. “What’s the banquet for?”

“Brothers from the Iron Hills have come to visit, my cousin Dain included. They’ve come to see the progress Uncle has made to restore our home.” He took another bite, relishing the taste. You found yourself too fixated on watching him eat. “You’ll come, won’t you?”

You shook your head free of its weird thoughts. “Tomorrow? I’m not sure.”

You frowned, worried about your injury. Banquets were gloriously regal but often full of bright lights and noises, both of which you still weren’t well enough to tackle.

“Are you going?” You asked, wondering if he’d be leaving your side tomorrow if you chose not to attend.

“I have to, at least for a little while. Thorin has Kíli and I give Dain a tour of the Forges before it starts.” He leaned back, getting comfortable. “After that, we’ll probably escape to meet the rest of the boys.”

You raised a brow. “Who?”

“Everytime we hold a banquet, Kíli and I socialize for a little while before sneaking off to our own hiding spot. At first it was to avoid our mother hunting down suitors for us, but now it’s become a tradition.” He chuckled. “We’ve even got Threl and Ori meeting us up there now, and I think Kíli has invited Gloín’s son, Gimli.”

You laughed. “The princes of Erebor don’t like to party? I find that quite hard to believe.”

“Oh, quite the opposite.” He threw a wink your way, flustering you as you quickly stuffed your face to hide it. “But it’s hard to have fun when your mother and uncle keep making you dance with every dwarrowdam within sixty miles. So, we have to get crafty!”

“What did you do last time?” You asked, your voice stuffed with food. Your manners had been loosening up while staying here.

“We snuck three barrels of mead with Bofur’s help,” he smiled at the thought. “It cost us three of his shifts but it was worth it. This year’s going to be much different, though.”

“Different?” You finished your pastry. “How so?”

“Well, now it’s more than just my brother and I. We’ve got three others joining us this time, and Kíli wants to spend the night playing drinking games, but that’s because he thinks he can outdrink Gimli.”

“Can –?”

“Not at all.”

You laughed, imagining all of the shenanigans a drunken prince could get into. You barely knew Kíli, having eaten with him only a handful of times, but he gave the vibe of a mischievous drunkard.

“You’ll have a great time if you come,” he said. “And it’ll give you some freedom from your room.”

“I’m just worried,” you tucked a loose strand of hair away, feeling anxious. “I don’t want to risk anything with my headaches right now. Lights and noises have only been making it worse.”

You wanted to go, to socialize with someone, anyone. But there were simply too many risks, too many worries.

He tossed you another pastry, making you look over at him.

“Come, even if just for a moment,” he said. “The minute you don’t feel well, I’ll bring you to your room myself. But getting out of here would do you some good, Y/N. You’re getting uneasy.”

Your eyes widened, worried. Had he seen your letters? “How do you know that?”

“Y/N.” His tone was flat as he gestured to your room. “I don’t mean to offend, but look at the state of the place.”

Oh. That’s what he had meant. You sighed out of relief as you bit into the pastry. The midnight snack was doing wonders right now despite the fact that he had pointed out how messy your room was getting.

“Fair enough.”

Almost twenty-four hours later, your room was back to its usual state and it was already improving your mood greatly. Maybe your mother had been right about nagging you to clean your room as a child. Your mind felt cleaner now that your room didn’t mirror its mess.

And speaking of a clear mind, last night had been the first night of decent sleep in a while. No weird dreams, no restlessness, and you woke up feeling especially refreshed. Noises were still bothering you, which you had discovered while getting breakfast down at the market, but lights were a lot less irritating.

This was good, as Erebor was brighter than it had ever been; metal lanterns hung on every corner of the kingdom, lighting the market and the great halls as everyone hustled and bustled preparing for the banquet .

You had managed to finish two more portraits as the day went on, the sun setting behind the mountain before you even realized it. Soon, Fíli would be here to fetch you.

You wondered what his friends were like. If they were anything like him, you were prepared for a whole lot of cockiness and childish humor. You smiled to yourself at the thought of Fíli getting drunk, wondering what his tolerance was like. He seemed like the type who could handle his liquor.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Come in,” you called as you continued touching up your newest painting.

The door opened and soon you felt Fíli lean down behind you to peer at your canvas. “And who am I meeting this time?”

“A young dam named Annis,” you answered.

“The new lass at the bakery?”

“The very same.” You dipped your paintbrush in another color as you carefully fixed a mistake you had made with her nose.

“She makes a wonderful bread with cheese,” he hummed.

“I know, she gave some to me as a gift this morning. Apparently she made too many for tonight.” You smiled at the thought of the tasty meal you had earlier.

“And speaking of tonight,” he backed away from you know, sitting on your storage chest as usual. “Are you ready?”

You scoffed. “Clearly not if I’m painting.”

“Well, obviously. I meant more so in a general sense.” He rolled his eyes.

“The answer’s still no, but alright.” You found a stopping point and began putting your supplies away, leaving the painting on its easel to dry.

You stood up and stretched, cracking your knuckles. “I need to change, but I can do that quickly. Should I dress a certain way? I’ve never been to a dwarven banquet.”

“Oh, they’re very regal, but only for the ladies.” He chuckled.

You looked confused, not understanding.

He coughed. “To impress men. Most dams look for others to court at banquets.”

You rolled your eyes. “So the answer to my question is no?”

“Well, yes, but nobody’s stopping you from dressing yourself up.”

You ignored his comment, looking through some of your clothes that lay on your bed. You were deciding on an outfit earlier but had opted to wait for Fíli’s opinion. Not that it was doing any good.

“And what is everyone else wearing?” You asked.

“Does it matter?” He raised a brow.

“Well, I’d very much like to blend in with your friends, so yes.”

“Y/N, I don’t know how to tell you this, but you’re not a dwarf. You’re going to stand out.”

You groaned, throwing a tunic at him. “If you’re not going to be helpful, then leave so I can change.”

He caught it with a shit-eating grin, holding back his laughter from his teasing. “Alright, alright. But hurry up, I told Kíli we’d be there soon.”

One casual outfit change led to Fíli guiding you through Erebor to his ‘secret spot’. Despite his eagerness to join his friends, you were grateful that he took you through a quiet path to get there.

Twists and turns led you through one wine cellar, an empty staircase, and a ruined library before eventually bringing you to a wide and open balcony, hidden from anyone passing by. It hung over the great hall where the banquet was being held, giving you a perfect view of the events below. Your eyes lit up in awe, both from the sheer height of the balcony and the amount of people you saw down below. Dwarves were already naturally short, but from here they looked like ants dancing over stone floors.

“Is this that noble you were talking about, Fíli?” An unfamiliar voice asked, prompting you to turn around and take in the sight of the balcony, which had been decked out with a wide table and benches.

Seated at the table were four others, but you only recognized Kíli. Fíli made his way over, taking a seat as he waved a hand at you to invite you to sit down next to him.

“Aye, this is Y/N.” He said, introducing you. You gave a small nod, taking in your new surroundings.

“Are you drinking with us?” Kíli asked.

“No,” Fíli interjected before you could say anything. “They’ll be sticking to water tonight.”

“I’m sure one pint won’t hurt me,” you scolded. It was a nice gesture that he was looking out for you, but there was no way you could handle the pressure of meeting new people without some liquid courage. Even if you weren’t going to get drunk, having something to hold onto would help your nerves.

Fíli raised both of his hands in surrender at your words, a smirk on his lips.

“An excellent choice!” Kíli grinned, elbowing one of the younger dwarves at the table. “Ori, get them something to drink before we start.”

Ori, who you now realized was the younger redhead with the unfortunate haircut, quickly fetched a drink of mead for you, setting it down in front of you with a smile as you thanked him.

“Are we starting already? They’re finally here now,” the brown haired dwarf with blue eyes said, gesturing to you and Fíli.

“Come on, don’t be like that; we got here as soon as we could,” Fíli explained.

“Don’t mind him,” the other young redhead spoke, his beard longer than everyone else’s. “Threl’s just eager to start drinking.”

“Well no one’s stopping you!” Ori teased, raising his mug as a cheer. You laughed under your breath at their antics.

“What are we playing?” You asked, finally speaking up.

“Strike the Iron.” Kíli said, drawing a set of metal die and a leather dish, which he set in the middle of the table.

“It’s easy, don’t worry. You’ll catch on quickly,” Fíli grinned, now armed with his own pint. “You throw the die and whatever it lands on decides your fate.”

“My fate?” You raised a brow.

“Should we start with one since Y/N’s never played?” Ori offered.

“Who says they can’t learn with two?” The other redhead retorted. A part of you was hoping someone would say his name so you could learn it without asking.

Kíli waved him off. “We can start with one for now. Threl, you can go first since you’re rushing us all.”

Threl laughed at this, taking the dice and separating them, giving Kíli the extra. He tossed the single die into the leather dish. All of you eagerly watched as it rolled around before eventually landing on its side.

“Matkati, of course,” he playfully rolled his eyes and took a heaping gulp of his malt.

“That’s what you get for being impatient,” Fíli laughed. He then turned to you to explain. “Matkati means you take a drink.”

You nodded, repeating the word under your breath. The rules seemed to be simple enough so far.

Fíli took the die and tossed it as well, reading the side it landed on. “Mafsiki. Alright, who’s asking me the question?”

“Question?” You raised a brow.

Kíli snickered. “It means we get to ask him to tell us a secret.”

“Let Y/N ask it, since they’re new.” Ori smiled your way and you were caught off guard by the way everyone agreed. Well now you had been put on the spot.

“Ask away,” Fíli smiled at you, a hand on his beer as he took a sip.

You thought for a moment, finding yourself overwhelmed with the opportunity. There was so much you could ask of him.

“Tell us who has the lowest tolerance at the table,” you said, opting for a question that was relevant to everyone here.

“Gimli,” he pointed at the other redhead, who was not happy to have his name in someone’s mouth. At least you finally had a name to the face.

“You liar!” He stood up, pointing his own finger at Fíli as everyone at the table roared with laughter. “You couldn’t outdrink me if you tried!”

Even Kíli stood, offended. “You lie! Everyone knows that you can’t handle your mead!”

“That was one time, Kíli!” Fíli retorted. “And need I remind you how we got in that situation?!”

“It’s your turn, Y/N,” Threl said, wiping a tear from his eye.

“I didn’t mean to cause any fighting,” you said while taking the die.

“Oh, don’t apologize!” Threl laughed. “Gimli’s always had a temper. He can’t tell a joke from a declaration of war.”

Gimli wasn’t having any of this, drinking his beer with a fiery passion. Hesitantly, you tossed the die into the leather dish, watching it roll around before it landed on the same symbol from earlier. “Mafsiki, right?”

“Now you’re getting it!” Threl grinned. “Who wants to ask them something?”

“My, who knew khuzdul sounded so nice on your tongue, Y/N,” Fíli chuckled, sending a wink your way. You eagerly took a drink to hide your face from his gaze.

“I’ll go,” Ori chimed in. “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done while drunk?”

“While drunk?” You repeated, thinking to yourself. You hadn’t drank much back home, save for the occasional wine you’d sip as you painted. “I suppose I’ve accidentally slept on one of my paintings before.”

“Slept on a painting?” Ori repeated, eyes widening. “Was it dry?”

You chuckled. “Definitely not, it was ruined by the time I woke up. I was so upset; I think I cried.”

“That’s all? That’s not very adventurous,” Kíli scoffed. You were beginning to notice that he was much cockier than his brother.

You shrugged. “I wasn’t known for my adventures back home. Being here is the most adventurous I’ve ever had to be.”

“Well then, it can’t be helped.” Ori said as he tossed the die. This time it landed on a new side, and you quickly looked to Fíli for an explanation.

“Magli,” he whispered in your ear and you tried not to focus on how close he was as he spoke, his breath sending a shudder down your spine. “It means he’ll have to perform whatever daring task someone can come up with.”

“And I’ve already got the perfect one!” Gimli said proudly, slamming his drink on the table. It seems he had calmed down fairly quickly.

“You, my lad,” he said, waving a finger in Ori’s face. “Need to go fetch us a platter of the meats they’re serving downstairs.”

Immediately, everyone started laughing and agreeing wholeheartedly. The table roared in agreeance and the rumbling of everyone’s stomachs.

“Yes, you must!” Kíli grinned, and Ori rolled his eyes as he stood up to leave.

“These next tasks better not be errands!” He frowned, leaving the hidden balcony as he went to go do Gimli’s bidding.

“Does he really have to go all the way back?” You asked.

“Aye, if he wants to keep playing,” Gimli nodded. “Otherwise he’s exiled from the table.”

“That feels rather harsh,” you frowned.

“It’s simply the rules, Y/N,” Fíli chuckled. “Gimli, hurry up and play. None of us here are drunk enough.”

“Aye, don’t rush me!” Gimli scolded, taking the die in his hand.

Three long hours later, Gimli and Ori were out for the count, drunken and babbling nonsensical things as they laid on top of each other on the floor. You had to come to know that this was quite normal for them. Kíli, as you had predicted, had abandoned the group to go wildly dancing at the banquet down below. Every now and then, you and Threl would look over the balcony to see if you could spot the brown-haired prince from so high up.

“His mother will sure be happy to see him dancing with young dams,” Threl had snickered.

“The question is whether or not he’ll remember any of them in the morning,” you had retorted.

Fíli himself was also quite drunk; you had realized early on that he was even more of a lightweight than Gimli, having to switch his drink to water earlier in the game. Threl and yourself were the only sober ones, which you found ironic when Threl had been so eager to drink earlier.

At some earlier point in the night, all of you had abandoned the game, opting for drunken conversation mixed with the occasional dancing. You learned that Kíli and Ori were very light on their feet when it came to fast-paced dances. Gimli and Threl, on the other hand, found something as simple as waltzing to be a challenge. And Fíli? Well, he seemed to be a bigger fan of humming and clapping along to the music.

Eventually you all decided to return to the iron dice, but it was becoming much more intimate now that it was down to only three players: Threl, Fíli and yourself.

You tossed the die into the dish, laughing to yourself as Fíli slumped against Threl, muttering how dear their friendship was to him. You hadn’t pegged him to be a sentimental drunk.

“Falling asleep already?” You scoffed, quickly reading the die to determine your fate. “It’s mafsiki.”

“Not in your wildest dreams, dear,” Fíli waved your question off and you did your best to not find yourself flustered by the pet name. He was a sentimental and affectionate drunk; you had been slowly discovering this as the night went on. “Threl, my brother, ask them a question.”

“Alright,” he chuckled. “Y/N, how far can I take these questions?”

“We’ve already made steady progress, Threl.” You rolled your eyes. “I suppose anything’s on the table when you’ve already asked Kíli what he’s like in bed.”

He laughed at this, taking a swig of his mead. “In my defense, I thought he wouldn’t answer!”

“That’s a lie and you know it,” you scoffed. Even if you weren’t close with Kíli, you knew he wouldn’t shy away from something so easily. You still couldn’t shake the image that Kíli had a thing for bondage. It seems you learn something new everyday.

“Fair enough, I see your point. Let me think of something then.” He scratched his beard, setting his drink down to think. “Oh, I’ve got it.”

He leaned in from across the table, a devilish smirk on his face. “What’s a lie you’ve told yourself?”

“Well that isn’t particularly raunchy,” you frowned. You were expecting more. Perhaps even hoping for more.

“But it’s still interesting enough, I’d say,” Fíli chimed in.

“It seems the jury agrees with me, Y/N,” Threl chuckled.

You tucked a loose strand of hair away as you thought, wondering if there were any lies you had been telling yourself lately. Very little came to mind, but one in particular seemed to stick out.

“I suppose I keep telling myself that everything’s okay while I’m here,” you began with a sigh. “But I still have someone who wants me dead out there. And staying here and meeting such lovely people as you doesn’t change the fact that I’m a dead man walking.”

A silence fell over you three as you fiddled with your hair, unsure of what to do now. You had answered truthfully in order to keep playing, but it also felt as though you had ruined the mood.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so melanchol–” You began, interrupted when Fíli reached a hand over to rest on your shoulder, offering your reassurance.

“Gandalf is a friend,” he offered a small smile. “If he says you’re safe here, then safe is what you are. And I intend to help in any way I can.”

“I may not know your entire situation,” Threl offered. “But what my friend says is true. Especially if Fíli is your trainer. He’s a formidable fighter to have on your side.”

You smiled, silently thanking them for their reassurance. While it didn’t settle your inner qualms, it still felt quite lovely to know that there were people here who cared that you existed. That appreciated the fact that you were here, despite the reasons. And it was especially encouraging to know that you had allies.

“You know what we need at this moment?” Fíli asked, elbowing Threl.

“What’s that?” Threl gave Fíli a confused expression.

“More players! I’m sure if you go and fetch Kíli and find my dear friend Bofur, we can finally start playing with two dice!” Fíli’s pink cheeks glowed as he flashed a smile thinking of his friends.

Threl seemed quite keen on the idea, standing up quickly to leave. “Alright, but I doubt it will be easy with Kíli dancing. Wish me luck!”

You waved a short goodbye to the blue-eyed dwarf before turning to face Fíli again, whose expression was much more serious now. It caught you off guard, startling you for a moment.

“Is everything alright?” You asked.

“Y/N…” His voice was clearer now, and despite his flushed face, you would have assumed he was much more sober now. “I don’t think I’ve ever truly apologized for your injuries–”

“Fíli, what are you saying?” You cut him off. “We were training, it wasn’t your fault–”

“Let me finish.” His eyes burned into yours and you shifted in your seat, feeling uncomfortable in his blue gaze. This was a complete shift from his earlier behavior and you were uncertain of where it was leading.

“I cannot help but feel guilty that my training has led to such an injury. You were brought here out of fear and because of that, you’ve had to find a place for yourself here, in a world that isn’t your own. I just…”

He paused and you drew another breath, unsure of where he was leading with this. Your heart was beating all too fast inside your chest.

“I need you to understand that while you haven’t been here long, I have grown quite accustomed to our routines.” He continued as he pushed through a fit of hiccups, which was the only thing reminding you of his drunken state. “While you are here, I will allow no harm to come to you. I swear it. I am wholly at your service for absolutely anything you will need. Anything.”

“Fíli, that’s…” You couldn’t find the words, taken aback by his proclamation. “That’s very kind of you.”

A short silence fell over you two and you were contemplating on finally telling Fíli about the feelings and dreams you had been having lately, but time was not on your side.

“Aye, it’s hopeless!” A voice cut through, interrupting your thoughts as its owner walked back in with empty hands and a frown on his face. Threl was not pleased. “Kíli won’t come up here, believe me I tried.”

Fíli gave you one last longing look before turning to Threl and standing up, getting ready to leave. You took in the whole scene before you, still pondering the words he had spoken to you earlier.

“You can’t be serious, brother. Here, we’ll all go find him together!”

Knock, knock, knock! You awoke quickly from the sound, springing out of bed to open the door to a smiling Fíli.

“What time is it?” You asked, your voice a few tones deeper and a bit raspy from waking up. You winced from the light that came in from the hallway, much brighter than your dark room.

Fíli stifled a laugh. “You sound like me! Is everything alright?”

“Fíli, it’s early.” You groaned. “What do you want?”

“You, obviously. Why else would I be here?”

You didn’t even have time to fantasize about the meaning of his words before he was already inviting himself in, lighting some candles along the way. It was indeed too early for anything this morning.

“I’m sorry?” You asked, seeking an explanation.

“You’ve been healed for a few days already, correct?” He looked at you to answer, despite already knowing the answer.

Three days ago, one month since you had arrived in Erebor, you had visited the medic for a final check up on your head. Thankfully, all of your headaches had dulled away and the rest of your symptoms were minimal if not completely gone. The bruise on your head had also healed tremendously; with all of these good signs, the medic had officially cleared your diagnosis, meaning you could resume your normal life again.

“Yes, you know this.” It was too early for these antics.

“I know, but humor me for the time being. I’ve planned the perfect get-well gift for you.” His smile was practically beaming now, as though he couldn’t contain his excitement.

You sighed, crossing your arms. “What is it?”

“I’m not telling you.” He said, feeling cheeky. If you weren’t annoyed before, you sure as hell were now.

“Fíli, I’d love nothing more than to go back to sleep.” You walked back over to your bed, fully intent on climbing back into the sheets. It was probably still warm, too, but Fíli had other plans.

“And I know it,” he said, quickly moving to put himself between you and your bed. If you hadn’t felt utterly exhausted, you might have found yourself feeling flustered or rather bold. But exhaustion was all you could feel right now.

“But I can assure you this will be worth it. And it has to be now.” His eyes bore into your own, waiting eagerly for your answer.

You sighed. It seemed there was no chance of winning against him.

“Just let me get dressed before I change my mind.”

Fíli made a sound of victory as he practically jumped off of your storage chest to exit your room. Even if he was annoying, he still would give you privacy. The door shut behind him, and you cast one more longing look at your bed before scurrying to find yourself an outfit.

It seemed it would be another day of a cozy tunic and trousers.

Finally dressed and following Fíli as he guided you through the kingdom’s halls, you were starting to feel more awake and more curious of what his planned surprise could possibly be. Even the idea that he had planned something special for you was giving you butterflies. How long had he been planning this? Or was this a sudden idea of his?

You tried your best to contain your excitement, not wanting to romanticize anything too much. Indeed, your growing feelings towards your bodyguard were still something you wished to keep secret.

Twists and turns and endless walking eventually led you outside of Erebor’s huge mountain gates; mighty, massive and moss-covered from the recent weather. The fresh wind hit your lungs all at once, making you feel as though you had taken the first deep breath of air in a long time. You gasped at the sensation.

The fresh fall air tickled your skin as you realized it had been too long since you had last seen the sky. The vast blue atmosphere welcomed you with its sunny warmth and you couldn’t help the smile that quickly took over your face. Outside, finally.

You hadn’t realized how much you missed it until it was all around you.

Fíli had been watching your reaction with a soft smile on his face, taking in your joy with a sense of pride. He was glad to take in your expressions. Finally realizing he was watching, you quickly composed yourself, feeling embarrassed.

“I didn’t realize that I had missed it so much,” you said, your voice hushed.

He nodded with a smile, understanding. “We miss the things we take for granted.”

You nodded, walking closer to keep up with his pace. “Is this what the surprise was?”

“Not even quite,” he laughed. “Come on, we’re almost there.”

Eagerly you followed, unable to wipe the smile off of your face. Everything was perfect; the wind blowing your worries away. For now, all that mattered was you, Fíli and the sky. But things were only getting started.

The path was well-worn into the grass with small rocks and smooth stones occasionally jutting out from the soil. You tried your best to keep from tripping, too accustomed to the smooth carved stone of the mountain paths of Erebor. Everything about the outdoors felt so alien to your body, but you couldn’t have loved the feeling more. It felt as though you were experiencing everything again for the first time.

Fíli, however, saw this as a perfect opportunity to tease you.

“Careful now,” he said anytime you stumbled, though it felt as though he said it whenever your foot so much as graced the presence of a hill.

“Seriously, I can manage,” you retorted with a huff.

“Really? I could’ve sworn you were about to–”

“Enough, Fíli.” You rolled your eyes, ignoring the smirk that was plastered on his face.

The journey was like this for quite some time until you began to piece together where your destination was. Needless to say, you were very excited.

“Dale? Is that where we’re going?” You asked, excitement feeding your smile.

“Just for a little while,” Fíli nodded, happy to see you had caught on. “I thought you would enjoy the time outdoors.”

“Oh, I already am,” you beamed. You could hardly contain yourself. There was fresh wind, there was the sky above you and there was an entire city of people like you waiting for you to explore it. It almost felt as though you were back home, nostalgia eating away at you as you couldn’t hold back your grin.

“Fíli, this is wonderful,” you exclaimed.

He smirked. “Now you see why I woke you up so early. Even Kíli doesn’t know we’re here.”

“It’s a secret?” You asked.

“For now, but don’t worry.” He said. “We’ll be back before they even realize we’re gone.”

“How long do we have?” You raised a brow, curious as to why he’d chosen to keep it a secret.

“A few hours, at most. I thought you’d like to see the market first.”

He offered you his hand and you felt your heart skip a beat for a moment. You smiled, beaming down at the blonde prince as you took his hand in yours.

“I’d love nothing more.”

Despite the fact that the sun was still waking up in the sky, the busy market streets of Dale were alive and kicking. Colorful stalls decorated the cobblestone paths as vendors shouted their sales at passerby while others continued setting up their spaces. It was a vibrant and lively atmosphere that beckoned one and all to witness it. It made you think of the markets back home, despite their differences; even the markets in Erebor were different, as the stalls were lit up by lanterns that gave the illusion of a nighttime festival.

But none of these differences seemed to affect the way that your eyes glittered with joy at the sight of so many fine goods. Jewelry and clothing vendors caught your eye the most as you dragged Fíli along with you to browse the wares that were so different from the traditional dwarvish clothes you had become accustomed to.

You had become so used to the earthy and deep tones of the mountain dyes, but here in Dale the clothes were of brighter hues. You had grown so used to the typical browns, blues and reds that the sight of such rich greens and purples blew you away.

“Oh, just look at these, I’ve never seen such pretty dresses,” you muttered to yourself, astounded by all of the simple linen gowns the vendor was selling. They were so different from what you usually found yourself wearing, but for some reason you couldn’t shake your admiration off of them.

“Did you want them?” Fíli asked, laughing at your childlike wonder.

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly—“

“Y/N, don’t worry about it. Consider it my payment for your injury now that you’re well again.” He was already fetching coins from his pouch and handing them to you; you couldn’t say no. And if you could, he certainly wasn’t taking it for an answer.

“Are you sure?” You asked.

“I’ve already made up my mind. I’ll even carry your purchases if you’re nice enough,” he joked.

You had laughed at this, but Fíli had been quite serious. For some strange reason, he refused to let you carry any of your next two purchases. You waved it off as his stubborn determination, your mind focusing more on the next vendors your eyes landed on. Whatever his reasons were, spending this time outside was doing so much for your health. Everything was lovely in the early morning sun.

Now that you two were in the full swing of things at the market, you really wanted to find a way to buy Fíli a gift of his own. Granted, he was the only one who had brought any money, but it was the sentiment that would matter more.

The only issue was the fact that he hadn’t left your side whatsoever.

You wracked your brain while pretending to peruse more wares, thinking of any excuse you could use in an attempt to sneak away and look for a gift for him. What would get him to let you escape? What kind of gift would he like? You told yourself you’d know it when you found it, opting to have one less thing to worry about.

What was stopping you from just asking him to leave? You didn’t want to ruin the surprise of finding him a gift, but couldn’t you just ask for some privacy? Perhaps it was worth a shot.

He raised a brow, noticing the torn expression on your face. “Everything alright?”

“Can I look at a few stalls by myself?” You asked, tucking your hair back as a nervous habit.

“You already are, I haven’t said a word,” he replied.

You shook your head. “No, I meant completely alone.”

“Y/N, if it’s undergarments you’re looking for, we already passed that—“

“Is nothing sacred to you?” You rolled your eyes, trying not to smile from his crass teases. A full month of listening to his constant teases and jokes was now starting to make you find them humorous, which was terrible for his ego. “Fíli, please.”

He was already smirking from his own joke, but he could sense your impatience. He sighed, looking away for a moment as he came to terms with his decision.

“Fine. I’ll stay here, but I don’t want you leaving my sight.” He handed you some coins from his small leather purse. “Here, these should do you some good.”

You grinned. “Right, of course.”

“And make it quick,” he added. “We should start thinking of heading back home soon.”

“I understand!” You called, already walking away to quickly roam some more stands.

You had to find a gift for Fíli, and fast. What would he like? You knew he had an affinity for his weapons, but there was no way you had enough currency to pay for such a thing. You didn’t know him well enough to know what kind of clothes he was fond of, either. Your eyes scanned the wares of the next two stalls you wandered towards, trying not to rush yourself as you searched for something that would call out to you.

And all of a sudden, there it was.

Nestled in a small linen-lined case was a pair of rings carved from iron, a pearl embedded in each one. Their silver shine sparkled in the early morning light, reminding you of the silver beads Fíli wrapped around his braids. You couldn’t take your eyes off of them; these were the ones that were calling to you. The iridescent freshwater pearls reminded you of his eyes; they would be perfect to weave into his hair, as they were too small to fit even your fingers.

“Excuse me,” you called, getting the vendor’s attention. Your heart was pounding at the idea of giving Fíli such a gift. “How much are these?”

The old woman hobbled over to you, gaining a closer look at what you were pointing at. Once she realized, a relieved sigh fell from her lips.

“Oh my, anything you’re willing to spend is fine by me, dear.” Her shrill voice said.

“Pardon?” You raised an eyebrow, not fully understanding what she meant.

“My son made these months ago and they never sold because of their size,” she explained. “I wouldn’t argue with any payment for these, so long as they find a home with someone else.”

“Oh, I see,” you nodded, smiling as you fingered through your coins. You handed her three, hoping it would be enough despite the fact that she was willing to sell them for dirt cheap.

“Thank you, dear.” She took your payment thankfully, picking up the rings afterwards. “Here, allow me to package them for you so you don’t lose them.”

“Oh, thank you,” you smiled. “That’s very kind.”

Your hands eagerly received the small linen bag that the old woman gave you, the clinking of the rings inside making your smile even bigger. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what Fíli would think. Your heart was pounding at the idea.

Quickly, you looked for him, knowing he was somewhere close. After all, he had told you to stay in his sight. But as your eyes traveled over all of the stalls you had previously been to, you noticed that he was nowhere to be found. Were you lost? He must have moved from the stall that you left him at, but where?

Tucking the small bag with his gift into your tunic, you began wandering and retracing your steps, hoping to find him nearby. You were growing a little nervous, hoping he wouldn’t be upset that you must have gotten lost, especially because he had mentioned that you two should start leaving soon. Would he be in trouble if anyone in Erebor found you two missing? You frowned at the thought, not wanting to find out.

“Fíli?” You called out, hoping he’d hear you in the sea of people shopping. “Fíli?

You kept walking, the worrying feeling growing in your chest the longer you couldn’t find your companion. You drew a breath, trying to calm yourself down until a hand grasped your wrist, pulling you away into a side alley.

Shock took over your face as your front was slammed into the walls of someone’s home, the breath knocked out of your lungs as a hand quickly covered your mouth, preventing any noise from being heard. You felt something sharp poke your back and your entire body stiffened.

“Let’s find out what happens if you make any noise, hm?”

An hour had passed now, your life hanging in the balance as your attacker paced the room of the abandoned building he had taken you to. Tied and gagged against a foundational pillar, your heart pounded as all you could do was watch in horror as your attacker waited impatiently while muttering something under his breath. The lighting was too dim to make out anything about him, save for his tall and lanky build.

How could you have been such a fool? You had been too naïve to believe that Erebor was a safe place. With a bounty on your head, you’d never be safe. If only you hadn’t let your guard down, if only you hadn’t lost sight of Fíli, and where was Fíli? Only an hour had passed, but it felt like three lifetimes with the fear that stabbed your heart.

You were really going to die here. Alone and lost, without saying goodbye.

Your attacker whipped his head to look at you, an impatient grin on his face as his blade glinted in the candlelight of the room. He slowly approached you and you desperately tried to scurry away to no avail. He laughed at this, the scar on his left cheek now visible and on full display. But knowing what he looked like only terrified you more.

No, please. Don’t let me die here.

“You know what I’ve learned about you?” He smiled eerily, cocking his head to the side. “You’re tough to track, you know. Everyone before me lost your trail in Lake Town, but I knew better. Some were saying you had returned south into Mirkwood, can you believe that? Idiots, all of them.”

He scratched the back of his head with the hilt of his blade, a means of showing it off so he could see the fear in your eyes. A feral joy etched itself into his face as he studied your expression, relishing the silent tears that sprang from your eyes.

“I knew better, alright. I trusted the tracks — you must always trust the tracks. I’m actually just surprised it took me this long to find you here. Where have you been hiding out, hm? I checked all of the ruins here; were you staying with someone? Perhaps bribing them to let you live with them? But it doesn’t matter now, does it?”

He paused and gave an almost thoughtful look. “What’s your family known for again?” He suddenly laughed and you couldn’t stop the silent tears that spilled from your eyes. “Ah, that’s it! Something about ashes and trusting one another, hm? Well, then! Do you trust me?”

You held back a choked whine as he spoke but when he reached over to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear you quickly thrashed about, loathing the idea of him touching you.

He hated this.

He slapped you across your face, the impact burning your skin. You cried out. Tears poured out. But you refused to meet his gaze. You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing the pain and fear in your eyes, again. Your heart pounded wildly in your chest and you struggled to keep your breathing with the stress.

Please. Someone, anyone! Will no one find me?

“No wonder he wants a brat like you dead. You think you’re too good for me, hm? You think I’m not worthy of someone like you?” He stood up now, his arms crossed. “Well it’s too late! Once my friend arrives to confirm who you are, you’ll be dead. And I’ll be richer than ever. Richer than your family, that’s for sure. I wonder what I’ll spend it on?”

He backed away, now muttering to himself as he pondered the idea of how to spend his new fortune. You watched him return to his pacing, desperately trying to find a way to loosen your bonds, but it was no use. You had no weapons and the ropes he had tied you with were so tight that any slight movement in your wrists only seemed to tighten them to the point of bruising.

I’m really going to die here, aren’t I?

You sobbed through your gag, your tears staining your face and clothes as you thought about everything that had led you to this point. You thought about your father, now hating him more than ever despite the fact that he had raised you. He was the reason you were about to die alone. You thought about your mother, who had been too depressed to even wish you a proper goodbye. You wondered if she’d ever know how much you were suffering now. And of course, you thought about Erebor and all the new friends you had come to know. You would never see Kíli drunkenly dance again, or Threl try to babysit Fíli’s drunken sentimentality, or even Gimli’s competitive nature combined with Ori’s people-pleasing tendencies.

None of them would ever see you again.

You thought of Fíli the most. You wondered how he would feel after finding out you died on his watch; you wondered if he’d ever recover. Where was he? Was he out there right now, looking for you somewhere in the market? Or had something happened to him, too? It seemed your attacker didn’t know about him, or even about Erebor. Had Fíli gone back to get help in finding you? Why else had he not found you by now? Surely the city of Dale wasn’t too much ground to cover for such a warrior as he?

I never even told him of my feelings.

You closed your eyes, unconsolable as you cried, hoping everything would be over soon. You had given up hope now, forced to acknowledge that this was the end for you. As soon as your attacker’s contact arrived, you’d be killed. You blamed yourself for believing that hiding away would keep you safe; you blamed yourself even more for your injury, which prevented you from adequately learning any self defense that would’ve helped you in this exact situation. You were outgunned and outplanned. It was hopeless.

You were going to die here.

Your assailant continued his pacing, still muttering to himself about all of the fine clothes he would buy for himself once he would be given the bounty, occasionally cursing to himself while wondering when his contact would arrive. A part of you found it ironic that despite how clever he had deemed himself to be in finding you, he still needed someone to double check his homework. If you weren’t gagged and crying, you would’ve probably let him know your thoughts a little too well.

Knock, knock, knock!

Your heartbeat quickened and your body went on full alert. Fíli quickly came to mind, having grown accustomed to his patterns on your door. But Fíli wasn’t here. He didn’t know where you were. And so, three soft knocks were all it took for you to panic. This was it. You were going to die. Your muffled cries quickly sprang from your throat as your enemy shot you a devious smile before walking to the back of the dark room towards the door.

You were out of time.

“Do us both a favor and keep quiet, hm?” He laughed, his hand now resting on the doorknob. “Wouldn’t want this to be any messier than it—“

The door swung open, knocking him down as the air was ripped from his lungs. Your eyes squinted in an effort to make out what had happened, but the force of the door was enough to snuff out the nearby candles that illuminated your unknown enclosure. You hiked your legs closer to you, desperately trying to wrangle your wrists free to no avail. You couldn’t see anything but the noises you were hearing were enough to send your heart leaping out of your chest.

A loud thud sounded as the door creaked again and your assailant let out a pained cry, swearing in pain. Shuffling of feet reached your ears, distant at the other end of the room. More shouts and grunts could be heard, but they were not solely from your attacker. Whoever had entered the room was certainly not his contact.

A muffled crunch was heard and you winced at the sound of your attacker’s screams of suffering. Had his bones been broken? By who? By what force? Your breathing was ragged and short as you tried to keep quiet, hoping that the mysterious new person couldn’t see or hear you.

A yelp then a thud, closer now than previously. Followed by a hand gripping your ankle as someone had thrown your attacker towards you. You couldn’t help the scream that left your lungs aching for air as you kicked the hand away and tried your best to shuffle elsewhere.

And then the hand was no more, the sound of dragging and the door gently shutting ringing in your ears as you were left in the dark by yourself.

Your heart was pounding as a cold sweat covered your body, trying to wrap your mind over what had just happened. The ringing in your ears was only growing louder and louder as you tried to recount the last two minutes.

What bothered you more was the lack of sound on the other side of the door. No screams, no shuffles, absolutely nothing. Silence. Eerie silence.

The door creaked open once again and every fiber of your being went on high alert as the sound of footsteps and heavy panting approached you. Quickly, your bonds were cut and hands reached to remove the gag from your tear-stained face.

“Y/N…” Fíli’s voice filled your ears and you couldn’t stop yourself from throwing your entire body into his arms, sobs wracking your body.

“There, you’re safe now, I promise you,” he whispered, his voice quiet in the silence of the room. His arms wrapped around your frame, cradling you in his hold as a safe space while you cried. His grip was tight, as if you would disappear all at once.

Your hands tangled themselves in his hair as you clutched him close to you, desperately wanting to be assured that this was real and you were safe. You needed to prove that he was here. He reciprocated by pulling you so close into him all you could breathe was him. He had found you. Everything was alright.

He raised a hand to your face, gently holding it in his calloused palms as he wiped tears from your eyes. If you weren’t in such a state of shock, you would've asked him how he was able to see in such a dark room. But questions would have to come later as your body finally had a chance to process and digest all of the trauma the last hour and half had brought you. You dove your head into his shoulder, weeping tears that stained the fur trim of his tunic. Your hands lost their vice grip on his blonde locks, now falling to his shoulders as you anchored yourself to him. His hand cradled your head, keeping you close to him as he rubbed soothing patterns along your scalp.

“We must head back.” He waited until your cries had dulled down to silent tears and even breathing before breaking the tense silence in the room, bringing his hands into your own so you could feel that he was here by your side.

You only let out a choked sniffle as a reply, letting him help you up and lead you out the torturous dark.

“What were you doing in Dale?” Thorin’s voice echoed through the stone hall you were all gathered in and to say he was displeased would have been a massive understatement.

The moment you two had made it back inside the gates of Erebor, a worried Kíli and Ori greeted you with upsetting news; apparently, once it had been discovered by Kíli that both of you were nowhere to be found, the king had summoned you.

“He’s not happy, Fí.” Kíli had warned. “I tried to cover for you, but I haven’t seen him this uneasy in a while. What happened out there?”

“Nothing good,” Ori frowned, inspecting the blood that was spattered on Fíli’s boots and trousers; something you had been too afraid to ask about on the journey back home.

“Where is he, Kíli?” Fíli’s tone was clipped and soft, his eyes unreadable even to you.

Only you and Fíli had been allowed to enter the Great Hall where Thorin Oakenshield resided, forced to meet with him before even thinking of doing anything else.

And now here he sat before you, regal and cold as his stony throne. He glared daggers into the both of you, demanding answers. Answers that Fíli was more than prepared to give.

“I brought them thinking it would do their mind some good,” he was firm in his response, standing at full attention before his uncle and his king.

“Some good?” The king raised a dark bushy brow. “And what good came from it? What good could have possibly come from my nephew rushing home with blood on his hands?”

“I was attacked,” you croaked, your voice weak from crying but you did your best to appear otherwise. “A man who knew of the bounty found me, he told me that they’ve been tracking me.”

“And what else do you expect of them?” Thorin stood, anger in his tone. “Do you understand how much wealth has been placed on your head?”

“Uncle, it wasn’t their fault–” Fíli stepped forward, confused by Thorin’s question, but he was interjected.

“Then tell me, should I blame you? Are you not the one I placed in charge of Y/N?” Thorin began approaching you both, his steps slow and intimidating.

Fíli held his ground, trying his best to sway the king’s mind. “Yes, and as such, I have taken care of the threat. Just like you’ve taught me.”

“Taken care of it?” His uncle repeated. It seemed he would hear none of it.

But Fíli was persistent. “Both of the hunters who were after Y/N are dead now.”

“And I suppose that it is only a matter of time before Bard learns of this?”

“You can send a messenger explaining–”

“I have done enough!” Thorin declared, his tone cold as ice as he stood still. His voice echoed in the hall around you, reverberating in your mind. He could not be reasoned with as he glared you and Fíli down, just mere feet in front of you two.

The room fell so silent that you could hear the shallow breaths of the king before you. Fíli took a step to put himself between you and Thorin and it was becoming harder and harder to keep up the brave face.

“I was told you would be safe here, that my people would be safe here.” The king’s cold gaze fixed itself on you now, pointing a finger as he gestured to Fíli. “But my nephew’s sacrifice today is enough to prove otherwise.”

“Uncle, what are you saying–”

“I will send word to Gandalf. I want him back here before the next full moon to discuss new terms. Y/N cannot stay here. Even you must realize this, Fíli.”

Your eyes widened as his words echoed in your mind. Today had already proven that you were not truly safe anywhere and Thorin’s words were enough to convince you that even Erebor wasn’t safe. You felt tears pooling in your eyes but you refused to let them fall. Not in front of Thorin. Not before the King.

“It is no longer safe for any of us to harbor you here,” his words cut through you as he stood tall and firm. I will grant you lodgings only until Gandalf has answered his summons. Until then, I am ordering you not to leave the city again. Perhaps we should even bar you in your own room to prevent it. For if you do leave, I won’t hesitate to take matters into my own hands.”

“And then what?” Fíli exclaimed, growing impatient as he fought for you. He had done so much of that today. “What will you have them do? Sleep on the streets, only to be killed?”

“Once Gandalf returns, their fate is no longer our concern.” Thorin spoke bluntly and despite how cold he was being to you, you knew his words came from the care he felt towards his people. How could you blame him? It wasn’t his fault you had brought him trouble. He was only doing what he thought was best for his people.

“Fíli, it’s alright,” you frowned, raising a hand to rest on his shoulder. “He’s right, it’s not safe for me to be here anymore.”

Fíli whipped his head around to face you, his deep blue eyes full of anger and worry. “And where will you be safe? If there are men in Dale after you, then there are men everywhere. You said so yourself; they’ve been tracking you.”

Thorin watched both of you, an unreadable expression in his eyes as he listened to his nephew’s words.

“Which means it’s only a matter of time before they realize I’m here,” you said. “I’m not safe here, Fíli. Gandalf will know what to do, he has to.”

You weren't sure if you even believed that. After all, Gandalf had been the one who said that Erebor was safe in the first place. But could you truly believe that anymore after the events of today?

Thorin turned back to return to his throne. “I’ve done enough to honor Erebor’s debt to Gandalf. You’re both dismissed; I shall send word for him immediately.”

“There is no need,” an elder voice boomed, shadows dancing around the room as none other than Gandalf stepped before you all. “I have already arrived.”

All three of you turned to the great stone doors of the hall where Gandalf stood with Kíli and Ori by his side.

“And I’m afraid that I bear ill news.”

You stood frozen before the King and the familiar wizard as you watched him enter the room hastily, his robes billowing behind him in an anxious manner as if the fabric had its own emotions. Eyes wide with a tear-stained face, your stomach dropped at the sight of the Grey One. It seemed in the span of a few hours, the life you had accustomed yourself with was crashing once again around you. It had already happened in Gondor and now history was repeating itself in Erebor.

Thorin’s earlier cold gaze was now warming up with an unknown fury as he eyed the wizard down. “How kind of you to show up at–”

“There is no time for games, Thorin Oakenshield.” Gandalf cut him off, his voice booming through the stone hall. There was something different about this Gandalf. What had once been an anxious urgency was now replaced with an air of clear-cut authority. He stood much taller and his brow was more furrowed in his glare sent to the King Under the Mountain.

It terrified you.

“I must speak with Y/N immediately,” he spoke, his eyes now fixated on your shaking form, the steely blue now softening as he made his way to you. “Alone.”

You cast an uneasy gaze at Thorin, who stood furious as all hell. He was quite upset with you and even more so at the gall of this intruder ordering him around. But nevertheless, he did his best to seem composed.

“Everyone, out.” His tone was clipped as his gaze cast fire at Gandalf. Only a moment of hesitation hung in the air before everyone quickly filed out.

Fíli cast an unreadable glance at you before leaving with Kíli and Ori. You desperately wanted him to stay.

It was just Gandalf and Thorin now, seemingly caught in a silent battle of steel and fire. With a short breath, Thorin finally left the hall.

Terrified, you two were now alone.

Quickly, Gandalf’s steely exterior melted into exhaustion and false mirth, eyes softening upon your frightened frame.

“Now Y/N…” His voice muttered. He didn’t know where to start. Even worse, he didn’t know how it would end.

“They found me today,” you admitted softly. It was important to tell him this. “Fíli took me to the market in Dale. I thought I’d be safe here.”

Gandalf stood silent now, allowing you your space as you tried holding back your tears.

“I don’t know if I can keep living like this, Gandalf. They tied me up in the dark. Like cattle.” You bit your lip, the tears falling as you balled up your fists. You were angry now. It was all you could feel to prevent yourself from breaking down. “I was helpless in there, Gandalf. You said I would be safe here–”

“I said no such thing.” He was stern in everything but his gaze as his soft eyes bore into you. “Safety was never guaranteed.”

A heavy silence fell between you two, your breathing filling the hall as you thought about earlier. How your bindings had stung your wrists, which were certain to be bruised. How the rough fabric of your gag had felt like it was cutting into your skin. How your dying thoughts had been of Fíli.

You’d have to leave him now. There was no reason for you to stay here and it seemed highly unlikely Thorin would continue his generosity after the events of today.

“Where do I go from here?” You asked meekly. Your voice was cracked from a lack of water and the ache of your tears. You desperately needed a bath. You needed a plan even more.

Gandalf sighed. “I came to tell you news of your father.”

Your eyes immediately shot wide open. Your breath hitched for a moment, holding it in anticipation. “What news?”

“I’m afraid the situation in Gondor has only gotten worse.” He explained with a furrow of his brow. “Despite my attempts, the pieces are being placed against us.”

“What are you talking about?” You pressed, ignoring his metaphors.

“Your father has made the Steward aware of who holds this bounty over you. And against my better judgment, the Steward has issued a city-wide search to hunt him down. But I fear that from this, your father and the people of Minas Tirith are in grave danger.”

“But why? Who ordered the bounty?”

“A very old and well-known enemy of the Steward, I’m afraid. He refers to himself as Baldred the Bloody, and the Steward will stop at nothing to see this man’s end.” The wizard’s lip twitched as he spoke, clearly upset at the matter. “Your father was a fool for not keeping his secret.”

Your eyes widened as you realized what this meant for your family. If your father had truly been loaning money from one of the Steward’s most notorious adversaries, it would only spell treason and disgrace to your family name. It didn’t matter if your father and the Steward had known each other for over thirty years. None of the good deeds your father had helped would matter in the grand scheme of this treasonous act. And if the Steward was willing to go to such great lengths to kill this Baldred, there was no telling what would happen to your father.

“They’ll kill him,” you muttered. “Won’t they?”

Gandalf refused to answer, but his eyes told you more than enough. All you needed was a look to tell you your answer.

You fell to your knees, the news weighing down on your already heavy soul. Hadn’t your family already been through enough? Hadn’t you been through enough?

It was no doubt that all of your father’s mistakes were caused by him alone; it was a trait you despised him for. You loathed how he cowered in his pride, even when it would bring him to his demise.

But even so, you knew he didn’t deserve death.

“I don’t know how much time he has left. And Baldred will only continue to shed more blood if it means keeping himself hidden from the Steward.” He leaned down to your eye level now, an old and weathered hand resting on top of yours for comfort. But it did little to help.

“I can’t stay here, Gandalf.” You spoke. “I can’t bring Thorin any more trouble than I already have.”

“Whatever you choose to do,” he replied. “Know that you are not alone.”

You nodded, trying your best to believe it yourself. But you’d have to leave Fíli here. And who knows when you’d see Kíli or Ori again. Not to mention, Gandalf couldn’t show up conveniently every time you were in danger.

“Take me home, Gandalf.”

The dice had been cast. You had made up your mind. You would return home in the hopes of being able to help your father in some way. But you didn’t know how or when it would come about. Or most of all, if you would even make it in time.

Your future and the future of those you cared about was now in the hands of the fates. And you could only hope that you would survive to see it.

133 notes · View notes

irabelaswriting · 2 years

Text

halcyon 1/2

pairing: morpheus x f!reader | rating: E | words: 5.2k | ao3

tags: #1 emo boy’s coping strategy being avoidance?, checks out, halloween party, the mask comes off, pining, angst, jealousy, possessiveness, semi-public sex, exhibition kink, fluff, no use of y/n,

summary: Getting ghosted by a literal dream felt... very small. A niche subgroup that you couldn’t really turn to anyone about – and that you’d rather not even belong to in the first place.

That time Morpheus doesn’t keep his promise.

Until he does.

a/n: the sequel to influx is here! tags will be updated when part 2 is posted. hope y'all enjoy, let me know what worked and what didn’t<3

The party has been going on for a couple of hours now. Your friend has all but abandoned you to go after some situationship, leaving you with acquaintances who you barely recognize beneath the layers of greasepaint and masks of different movie slashers.

Weight shifting on your feet, you look around.

The guy your friend has roped you into seeing rounds the corner, mask tilted to the side as he grins at you. He’s dressed as that slasher from Friday the 13th; or at least, you think so. A hockey mask sits tilted to one side of his face, jaw and jowls smeared in sticky fake blood, costume haphazardly put together with a bloodied orange prison uniform.

Everyone needed a costume to get in – your friends had made sure you weren’t able to sit this one out because of a lack of it. And so, you got put in a deliberately skimpy outfit — bare shoulders with a low cut, and stay ups.

Pretty. Flattering. Inviting.

Even if it still was up to interpretation as to exactly what you were supposed to be.

“Thought I lost you.” He holds out the can of generic brand hard seltzer towards you, smiling.

That was unlikely. You hadn’t moved on an inch from where he’d left you, and you fight the urge to raise a doubtful brow.

You don’t really remember his name (was it Josh? John? James? … Jason? the outfit would be eerily fitting, in that case, maybe even on the verge of bad taste), just that he’s shown interest before at some mutual event. Hung around, asked about you, added you on your socials afterwards. Liked every picture posted and swiped up on every story, heart and fire emojis in abundance.

You’ve blown him off with that easy, breezy way that you use on people you have no real interest in. Let him down easy, not wanting to cause a scene. He is, after all, on the fringes of your friend group, and it would be sad to make that circle any smaller than it already is.

So, you’ve let Josh put his hand on your hip, fingers splaying out against the small of your back. Let him get a good look down your cleavage every time he so much as turns to look at you. Let him guide you into conversations with that hold on you, like you might vanish into thin air if he lets you out of sight, or as if you might get stolen away by some other adversary.

With a small thanks, you accept the drink. The crack and fizz as you open it and take a sip fills the void for long enough that Josh starts talking again, ushering you back into the crowded living room with his hand on your hip, too low to just be friendly.

And why not? It wasn’t like Morpheus had been around.

At first, the visits had continued. As he had suggested.

Morpheus would appear at the oddest times – in the middle of your living room, or in your bedroom. One time, you’d stepped out of the shower and gotten a real fright, much to his smug amusement.

And it wasn’t as if he’d just show up and fuck you through the nearest available surface, as you might’ve suspected first. No, he was good company, too.

If you offered dinner, he’d accept, even help (he would, however, not eat much, only poke the food around, despite trying everything). If he was still around in the morning, you’d wake up with his arms around you. It had even gone so far that you would make enough coffee for the both of you in the mornings – a new addition to your daily routine.

Perhaps you had grown a bit attached, as he had alluded to. More days than not he would come around. And you had certainly grown accustomed to having him around; that there would be twin pairs of cutlery and plates in your dishrack at the end of the day.

And if you didn’t want to… well, you hadn’t found yourself in that particular predicament yet.

If you asked, he’d even come along on errands. He wouldn’t say much to anyone else – just listen in on your interactions with cashiers and clerks, observe those around you with a slightly guarded expression. One time he had even joined you on some silly little non-errands; collecting parcels and treating yourself to coffee and cake.

Hadn’t even protested or pulled away when you wrapped your arm around his on the way home. You had, of course, done everything to make the gesture seem natural and not the carefully planned and orchestrated action it had been, heart thumping in your chest the entire time.

In fact, you had thought he looked rather pleased at the casual affection.

After getting home that day, he managed to run up your water bill some more. Barely let you get into your apartment before he was on you.

Hair wet and clinging to his face, eyes glimmering up at you as he let you dangle on the precipice of yet another orgasm.

You wet your lips with another sip of your drink, trying to rid the image of Morpheus on his knees in your shower.

It was as if he had vanished without a trace. Slipped through your fingers like sand.

A month had passed. From the beginning of October to the end of it — only really dragged to this particular Halloween party by your friends because you were a moping mess most of the time that refused to elaborate as to why your mood was so depleted.

Morpheus had used you. It— it had worked. You were out of his hair – no longer his problem. He had taken back what had been unwillingly bestowed upon you at that first meeting, so many weeks ago, and left you high and dry.

It had been what you wanted; the ability to get your rocks off had definitely returned. But now, you acquired another, different, problem. Every orgasm was fueled by thoughts of him; making up for lost time, masturbation statistics shooting up faster than rent in a gentrified neighborhood. All of them subsidized with new fantasies, no– memories replaying across your retina.

Still quivering from the comedown, Morpheus lodged inside you, grinding deep, almost too deep for comfort. Lean arms wrapping around your torso, slender fingers digging into the softness of your sides, pulling you down in union with his raised pelvis. Hips pistoning, tapping repeatedly upwards, until you wail into the crook of his neck, unable to do anything but letting him take what he needs.

Thighs rubbing together, you shift on your feet, inhaling through your nose, steadying yourself from thinking more about any sexual ventures.

As the days turned to weeks with no further call or interaction from Morpheus, not even the merest whisper in your dreams (that had all returned to the same boring routine of your teeth falling out or other mishaps) that he cared, you had started to suspect that he... had forgotten about you.

Used you for the purpose he had stated and then left. That you were nothing more than a means to an end.

And sure, that happened. Not like you’d been a virgin, or even inexperienced in the one night stand department—

It just—

He had not seemed like the type to instill false hope into you.

But as time passed you couldn’t help but feel as if that was the case.

Why had he stuck around then?

Getting ghosted by a literal dream felt... very small. A niche subgroup that you couldn’t really turn to anyone about – and that you’d rather not even belong to in the first place.

Was it something you said? Something you did? You had recounted every interaction, every exchange like a heartbroken teenager, trying to find a reason for the abrupt end. Even shed a few tears about it in the dark of night.

Maybe it had been true, what he had called you – lonely girl. So desperate for a connection that this mere fling of intimacy had your heart soaring, had brightened your days enough to make you actually look forward to them.

Suddenly despondent, you take another sip of your drink, feigning a smile as Josh finishes yet another story that has the cluster of people surrounding you laughing. Again.

Really, you had thought you’d even gotten better at reading Morpheus’ cues. The little telltale signs that he wanted to touch you, wanted you to touch him, that he needed to leave or that he found whatever it was that you dragged him along to was particularly amusing. Even with your limbs entwined in bed, you had gotten better at figuring out his cues – exactly how he wanted to be kissed, wanted to have you.

Had you been wrong all along?

Perhaps it was the same as what you were doing to Josh. Leading him on by not swatting away his hand the moment it landed on your hip, by laughing along at a bad joke he told. Instilling him with hope, the promise, that you would go home with him, maybe even let him pull you into one of the many vacant bedrooms on the floor above and let him do as he pleased.

Maybe you were the same as Morpheus.

Maybe you deserved what he’d done to you – how he’d left you. Alone and hoping. A thin layer of something like sand in his wake you’d spent the good part of two days finding scattered across your apartment and which you had subsequently vacuumed up, cursing him under your breath the entire time.

Thoughts turning dark, you zone out all the noise, the music, the people, around you; the bass is the only thing you feel, thrumming through your system.

In the peripheral of your vision, something moves. Barely, you turn around in vice like grip Josh still has on your hip, eyes searching in a crowd of muddled and masked faces–

A person, dressed in all black moves through the crowd, just a few feet away. A mask so unusual that it’s unlike anything you’ve ever seen before covers their face; made up of a long, boney appendage and tinted pieces of glass shielding the eye sockets. Around you, people stop and stare, almost startled as they’re passed by. No one makes any moves to approach the mysterious figure, letting them pass by as if all they’re seeing is a mere stranger on the street.

The stranger doesn’t seem to mind, no– notice, any of the odd looks.

Instead, the scarlet glass covered eyes lock with yours, eerily familiar.

A shiver races through your system.

As if nothing has happened, noise fills your ears again, loud music reverberating through your system, everyone around you seemingly forgetting the sight of the wispy form of a stranger.

What was that?

“Just gonna get another drink,” you mumble, barely giving any mind to pleasantries for the moment, untangling yourself.

“You just got one.” Josh’s brow furrows momentarily. Instantly, you’re reminded that he was the one who got the can for you, that hurt tinges the fringes of his voice. Like he’s a puppy you’ve just kicked.

“Not a big fan of cherry.” You lie on the spot, scrunching your nose up and shaking the can back and forth. “I’ll be right back,” you add over your shoulder, hitting him with the most charming, reassuring smile as you leave to investigate.

The eyes that you feel lingering over your rear are unmistakably his.

Quickly, you act, intent on not losing track of the figure.

You don’t know what you saw — just that you feel inexplicably drawn to it. The mask was weird, in an uncannily familiar way; as if you’ve seen it somewhere, passed it by in a shop window without sparing it a single thought. With its giant bug eyes it would’ve looked like an overgrown dragonfly if it wasn’t for the spine-like mouthpiece – and surely, you think you would remember seeing that.

Getting through the crowd is easy; and as you move into the hallway you swear you catch something moving towards the end of the staircase.

Tendrils of black smoke lick at the varnished wood posts going up to the second floor. They curl upwards and inwards like tails, a soft beckoning motion, before vanishing into thin air, one after another.

And like a dog on a leash – you follow.

The last wisp of dark shadow sneaks around the bend, just enough that you don’t miss it. Drink willfully abandoned at the bottom of the stairs, you start the climb upwards.

A long corridor greets you, filled with large wooden doors in the darkest of oak, dimly lit and foreboding.

Hand on the stair post as you twist around, already forming a plan to start your search at the shorter end of the hallway when you feel it.

Maybe it’s some primal instinct from when humans were prey more than predator – but the hair on the back of your neck prickles, feeling the weight of a presence behind you.

Your breath hitches.

Slowly, as if any sudden movements would scare them off, you turn around.

Your own reflection stares back at you, painted red like guts. It’s even stranger up close, the mask; all metal and stone, glass and bone. Much more of a helm than a mask, you note.

“... Morpheus?”

A ruby dangles around his neck, crimson like thick blood.

“Take off the mask, it’s creepy.” You say, suddenly uneasy at seeing yourself in the bugeyed reflection. “You look like the cryptkeeper.”

“That’s my sister.” The voice is distorted through the helm, but sure enough – it’s him, the baritone familiar, intimately known to you. And he obliges, hair even more tousled than usual as he removes it.

“...What?” You blink, shaking that off as you take him in. Despite it all, he’s still gorgeous – the mere expanse of his neck sends a tingle through your body, trying your hardest not to stare at his Adam's apple, the lips you know are soft, that you know has kissed parts of your body that even the skimpy outfit isn’t showing off. “W—what are you doing here?”

“Attending the party.” Morpheus motions to the helmet in his hands.

“No— very funny,“ his reply shifts you off key, like it’s impossible that he would be here for that simple reason alone. Regaining your footing in the midst of emotions filling you is harder than it should be, and all you manage is a scoff, shrugging. “I wouldn't know. Not like you’ve been around.”

His eyes roll over you, taking in the costume, the carefully guarded tone you’ve chosen, before he replies. “Circumstances have gotten… complicated.”

By your sides, your hands form fists, jaw clenching.

“Great fucking excuse,” you smack a hand into his chest. Him being here doesn’t make you feel any less jilted, any less upset–

The impact doesn’t even seem to faze him, only meeting the resistance of his chest, but momentarily, his dark brows pull down. “I do not expect you to understand.”

Maybe it’s the alcohol in your system making you braver, angrier, but you voice raises above the conversational volume you’ve kept, no longer able to keep the hurt in your chest contained–

“Understand? How hard is it for you, of all people, to let me know in a fucking dream or whatever that you didn’t want more than—“

From the foot of the stairs, someone calls out your name.

You’ve taken too long. Now, Josh is looking for you, intent on leading you towards the end he has imagined all evening.

“It’s Josh,“ your whisper sounds panicked, even to your own ears as you turn towards the sound.

“A friend?”

You don’t hide your eyeroll at his terse tone. “Just some dude—“

Morpheus scoffs.

At once, your head whips back to meet his gaze.

He’s frowning at you, like a skulking child.

“Are you serious?” You’re still whispering, and you’re not sure why. “You can’t be seriously upset that I– that I–”

What was it that you were doing, really? Replacing him by leading along a guy who's had it bad for you since the moment he laid eyes on you? At the realization, the way you’ve clipped your own tongue, you decide that you don’t particularly feel like talking to Morpheus anymore.

“You left me.” You simply hiss, turning back to hurry down the stairs.

You’re gearing up to answer Josh’s call, air rushing to your lungs – when slender fingers wrap around your elbow.

Instead, all that leaves your lips is a startled sound as Morpheus shoves you into an empty bedroom, seemingly exerting no strength while doing so.

“Hey!” You protest.

Morpheus hushes you, actually hushes you, as he leads the way with you in front of him, out on the bedroom's adjoining balcony.

Below, the garden is alive with people. Fairy lights twinkle, people in masks and costumes laughing and drinking, music still loud enough to be heard outside. The lights are a bit redundant; a full moon sits fat and round in the sky, illuminating the scene in pale light – a perfect addition to the Halloween party. No one thinks of looking up – or at least, you hope so as Morpheus presses you against him, your back to his front.

Now, he was the one with a front row seat to look down your cleavage.

“Stop,” your fingers snag around his wrist, about to struggle to get free, to make the distance more controlled, “let me go.”

“Quiet,” he retorts, “they’ll find us.”

“It’s all your f—“ the words are cut off as his fingers smarts a garter against the soft plump of your thigh.

You gasp, momentarily stunned before you’re readying up to turn around and smack him again when his grip tightens.

“Quiet.” The command is repeated in a whisper right by your ear, punctuated by a pinch to your thigh. Pulling you tighter against him, slender fingers digging into the natural curve of your waist, making sure the two of you are shielded from the inside of the bedroom.

Warm fingers soothe the hurt on your thigh, even warmer breaths hitting the soft skin of your neck. Gods, you’ve shivered for less.

And, you feel compelled to listen to him, heart beating at the pit of your throat, adrenaline surging through your system.

Like a bloodhound on a trail – Josh has followed you.

Even from out on the balcony, you hear him in the hallway, looking for you, accompanied by someone.

The hands on your midriff move upwards.

“Where could she have gone?” Josh’s weary sigh is audible enough that you realize he’s right outside the bedroom door now.

Fingers with light pressure behind them trail up against your ribcage, taking their time before reaching their goal.

“Not over ‘ere,” responds the other voice, slightly slurred.

Tucking his head against your shoulder, Morpheus’ hands curve up from below, cupping your tits in his broad hands. Pushing them up like the most scandalous push-up bra would, molding them against his hands as you wriggle in his hold and you think you could curse him now. Heat starts flowing through your veins, and he has to know, feel it through the layers of clothing separating you, embarrassment and want stoked like a fire by his attention.

“So responsive,” he whispers, a thumb following the natural curve on the underside of one breast, a hot trail left in its wake, testing the plumpness of you with easy pressure.

Deftly, the soft pads of his fingers shift ever so slightly, hooking in the hem of your already low neckline, and slowly, slowly, drags the fabric down.

Stiff and aching, your nipples tighten even further as your breasts spill out and meet the cold night air.

Finally, you gasp out loud.

Anyone could look up from the garden below, see you–

Morpheus tuts, right by your ear, a quiet reminder of his earlier command.

The door handle to the bedroom is pulled down.

At once, you freeze.

You hear Josh tentatively call out your name again, peeking around the room.

Warm hands move downwards, gleaming eyes following the path from the valley between your bared breasts.

“Do you think she ran away?”

Beneath the layers of your skirts, fingers ghosts over your mons pubis, stroking your innermost thighs with a soft touch, until he’s cupping your cunt in his hand. Toying with the crease of wetness that’s obviously there, that has the gusset of your underwear sticky, fingers skirting against your folds as his palm grinds down, pressure applied to your clit.

“Be just like her to just vanish, wouldn't it?”

It feels so good, warm honey spreading across your limbs, and you’re hazy with want, body reacting with a full body rush as his touch ignites your body, a thin sheet of sweat breaking out across your skin. Even when your hand grasps around the wrist moving under your skirts, it’s half hearted – you don’t actually want him to stop. He knows exactly what makes you tick, what makes you putty in his hands.

Perhaps it would feel like losing a battle if it didn’t feel so damn good.

His touch has that effect on you – soothing the anger, overpowering it with pleasure.

The conversation, the noise, the people below in the garden, is all buzzed out from his hands on you.

Someone sighs something – and this time you hear nothing, only the small huff from Morpheus by your shoulder, the low whisper of your name as your legs start to tremble.

His head buries into your neck – incisors finding soft skin and biting down, tongue slowly alleviating the trail of stinging sharpness he leaves in his wake. A large hand comes to rest against your sternum, keeping you to him tightly, fingers tracing against your collarbones, thumb slowly drawing circles at the divot of your throat, protective, possessive.

A digit strokes around the perimeter of your still covered core, but stays withholding. You bite your lip to keep from whining, eyes squeezing shut as you swivel your hips, trying to entice it to enter you, give you anything to clench down on.

If they– if they stepped closer to the balcony, leaned out the expensive lead framed windows, they would catch you. They’d find you entangled with a stranger; one of his hands tucked under your skirt, tits out on display like a heathen. Embarrassment courses hotly through your veins, the mere prospect of getting caught making a new rush of wet soak Morpheus’ fingers.

It’s not something you should want – but it’s been part of your daydreams enough time that Morpheus has to know, has to be intrinsically aware of what this does to you, the thrill of being seen. Just how little he seems to care if someone catches you is only reinforced by the press of a digit to your center, willing you to come apart under him, coaxing– no, daring more sounds to spill from your lips.

Blood pounds in your ears, almost deafening, shutting out everything around you, making you careless–

Before the first, proper moan has time to make it past your mouth Morpheus has it covered with a hand, as if he had felt it vibrating in your throat. The ministrations between your legs don’t even pause, no reprieve awarded you. Two fingers even make it past your lips, pressing down on your tongue, muffling more sounds – it’s mere instinct, but you still suck on the digits, wrapping your lips around them.

You melt into it, into him, a puddle of want as he unravels you, working you like only he knows how to.

The click of the door shutting reverberates through the room.

Instantly, Morpheus' hand is off your mouth.

Gossamer spit still connects your mouth to his fingers. He presses them together in front of the both of you, spit glistening as he inspects them.

“You were saying?” He breathes by your ear.

The haze that’s settled over your mind is dispelled.

“Forget it.” You pull away from him with a start, wiping at your mouth with the back of your hand, tugging the neckline back up over your bare chest. In the stark moonlight his eyes glimmer as if there’s stars in them as he watches you right your clothing.

“It seems you have moved on.” He remarks, too casually. As if he deliberates on congratulating you on finding someone interested in you.

“Stop it. You’re the one who hasn’t—“

A million demands for explanations, reprimands and sour, hurtful words fill your mind, all of them sitting at the tip of your tongue. A hot sting of tears also tetters dangerously on your lower lash line, ready to burst through – you force that down deep, deep inside. Gods, were you that desperate? Maybe that was why you’d thrown yourself at the first person to show you an ounce of attention as soon as the realization that Morpheus had left you settled in.

Except… he hadn’t.

He was standing in front of you, on the balcony of some Halloween party you got dragged to. Even brought a mask for the occasion.

The cold breeze lightly tousles his dark hair as he peers down at you imploringly. You knew what that hair felt like, the texture of it, had wrapped locks of it around your fingers. Had run your fingers through it, tugged and tousled and smoothed it and done everything in between to it.

Wrapping your arms around yourself now that his heat isn’t there to shield you from the chilly night air, you start again. “Is that why you’re here? Because someone took your spot?”

You wish you could text him, or had some way of contacting him that wasn’t dependent on him being receptive to your advances (or on him simply making those advances first). All this had done was leave you with a feeling of being stranded – no way of knowing when or even if he was coming back. Stuck in a rowboat in the middle of the ocean.

You huff. “It’s not like I can get a hold of you.”

“I am not available at mosts’ beck and call.” The way he says it makes you feel like you’re getting a parental scolding. “My realm is vast, my duties never ending. Other matters have needed my attention–”

Nails dig into your palms. Imprudent, you cut him off.

“If you wanted to, you would.”

He looks like he’s never been interrupted in his entire life. Probably hasn’t – being who he is.

What he is.

Oh–

Where he came from is the place between the stars and the sky, the unexplored trenches of the sea, the still hidden places of this earth that you knew nothing of.

Endless, an ebb and flow you can’t even begin to comprehend. Millenia of consciousness in one person– no, in one being.

Suddenly, you feel stupid. Infinitely small and insignificant. An amoeba in the grand scheme of things.

The tears feel a lot closer to spilling over your lash line than they did before.

“And,” Morpheus finally says, as if he’s been privy to the thoughts racing through your mind, “I tend to forget how differently time is perceived by mortals.”

It’s not an apology. But you feel as if he’s admitting something he never has to anyone else, ever.

You fight away the unbidden fat tears with the back of your hand, voice only wavering slightly. “How– how did you know where I was?”

“I haven’t been completely idle in seeing to that your well-being was kept,” he pauses, scowling at the wetness of your eyes, words hanging in the air before he continues, “up to standards.”

Not that you’ve been well – he’s not using that particular terminology to describe the state you’ve been in. Because well, you hadn’t. Probably, he knows exactly how mopey and depressed you’ve been, sitting around waiting for him to arrive, to make good on his promise.

It– it must’ve been something urgent needing his attention if he didn’t come to you, didn’t let you know, despite that.

Intuitively, you sense that he doesn’t want to discuss that with you, what had caused him to be so swallowed up he couldn’t even bother giving you a dream version of a wyd? – atleast, not now. No matter what kind of talents you may have acquired for the arcane, there were many things you didn’t understand, that you didn’t know about Morpheus.

“How?” You ask instead.

“A raven.”

“A raven?”

CAW

As if on cue, a raven takes flight. Almost silent, the large wings spread out as it takes off, the leaves from the tree it had been perched in parting softly to let the watcher in the canopy pass.

“His name is Matthew.”

The raven circles high above you, cawing again in greeting, corvid outline stark against the brightness of the full moon.

“I’ve never met a crow named Matthew.” You say, eyes stuck on the bird in the sky.

“I’ll have to introduce you.”

You laugh at that – the first unfeigned laugh of the evening, of the past weeks.

Morpheus’ face cracks, if only slightly. A secret uptick of his mouth as he takes in your smile, the sound of your joy.

Without any further prompting, you feel your walls fall. It’s disarming, seeing him again. Hearing him. Being near him. It’s as if your magnetic field shifts – you want to orbit closer to him, want to stray from your already pre-designed course if it meant being just an inch closer to him. A gravitational pull as natural as the ocean’s ebb and flow controlling the tide.

Slowly, you inch closer to Morpheus. Arms wrap around his narrow middle, pressing closer, resting the side of your head against his chest, nuzzling into the dark fabric, the feel of coarse fibers against your skin a reminder that it’s real. He feels warm — decidedly warmer than the chilly, almost November air.

You whisper into the textile, voice small as you speak, as if he’ll disappear if you let him go.

“I’ve missed you.”

For a moment, nothing happens.

Then, his arms circle your frame, keeping you tight against him.

It feels wonderful, being in his arms, being close to him after so long. Breathing in his scent, as ineffable as everything about him.

The full moon sits fat and round in the sky, painting the both of you in pale light. It frames him well, you think, enhancing the dark of his hair, his gleaming eyes. The cloak, almost night itself, shields you from some of it, covers your sides as he cages your form, envelopes you.

If someone looked up from the garden, they would only see two lovers embracing.

Quick, and before you lose your nerve, you rise up on your tiptoes, giving him a peck on his chin, soft and unassuming.

At once, Morpheus has your face cradled in his hands, thumbs tracing against cheekbones, brushing away remnants of wetness still lingering, lips ghosting over your forehead, before he leans down and finally, finally, kisses you.

The wind tousles both of your hair, chilly and cold. You don’t notice it, barely feel the icy needles digging into your exposed skin – only feel the fire inside you, the molten core reginiting, atoms vibrating from the exchange of heat between you, returning the kiss in kind.

You think he missed you too.

thank u all for the love on influx<33 i am so happy so many of you liked it! please let me know your thoughts, i love comments and tags and hearing your opinions, it fuels me. let me know what worked and what didn’t.

#morpheus/dream x reader #the sandman fanfic #morpheus x reader #morpheus smut #dream of the endless #the sandman #halcyon #my writing #yes influx got a sequel. i am possessed by the spirit of this emo boy and he will not leave me alone #yes there’ll be a part 2. yes there is so much angst in here but also so much smut and fluff.#mdni

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minquiec · 4 months

Text

🎶 itsssss beeennnn 🎶 a hotttt minuuutteeee 🎶 sincccee iveeee went insane on here so let's just get into it yeah

Yall already know what it is

jia + the archer x not strong enough

When the trend first like got popular I was like eeehhhh that's not rlly jia

Haha lol

the archer:

'screaming who could ever leave me darling, but who could stay'

the spiderman curse

Or smth idk HAUSHA the canon events and everyone dyinnnggg

And also her own personal life like her parents didn't even stay soooo

Who would (COUGHCOUGHXOUGHOBJEHUHC)

And while jia isn't like uhhh how do I put it

She's not insecure yet she's also deeply insecure at a more ??? deeper level??? Idk how to say it

Like it's more like "I hate the way I have become because of things I cannot control and the way it makes me FFFFUUCCKING LONELLLYYYY"

but in a sadder way HAHSJS idk she copes by ignoring her problems (js like me fr)

So while at the same time she's like yeah I'm just a person I'm good with it 👍 she's also like what, could anyone possibly see in me to stay (side affects of distant parents!!!! Side note: THISNISNT TRAUMA DUMPING IM FINE)

'cause they see right through me'

They as in all the people she's known and don't know

That doesn't make sense gimme a

Like they as in the people of her city, people within the hq probably, people shes acquainted with, friends with, etc etc etc

They as in all people other jia herself sees right through her and fail to see just *her* per se

And it's probably her own fault tbh I mean she kinda like

Masks it so who's damn fault is that girl 🤷🤷 DAMN

But despite them never truly seeing the her that's incredibly lonely, she'd much rather prefer to keep it that way which then rolls onto the topiccc offffff

'can you see right through me'

okay this is kind of personal interpretation and changing the lyrical meaning to fit her lore BUT IDDDCCCCC IM RUNNING THIS SHOOOWWW LET ME BEEEEE

Y'all already know who this is directed at hirjejkejejkejekejejejjejejejks

hob

HEHIIEHHRBBBBDBBBB

Anyways

Like the last one I said she'd much prefer to keep her self under wraps and ignore the problem

But obviously since I'm FUCKING delusional and SOOOO fucking CRIMGEE ofc he's an exception HHHHHRHBBBHHHHHHHHHHHHHHRB&-!-!

And because he's the only one who's ever really gotten underneath that layer

She was

Sooooioioioooooo

Fucking confused by it

And because she's never addressed her issues properly, she's not used to this and so this line would almost be like

She's BEGGING him to just pllleaaase be like the rest

Please just see through her because this kind of thing has never happened before and she's SCCCCARREEDD to care too much and what if he leaves too and what if it's all for naught and what if what if what i

Girl we get it

But anyways the last line was

'I see right through me'

Would obviously be referring to her own denial to see herself by ignoring 🧚🧚 herrr fuckingnnnn problemmmsss and feeelinngggsss 🎶🎶 cause hey. Why be sad when u can be glad and very very silly

Anyways the next part

'always an angel never a god'

BITCH

I feel so strongly abt this line rn

Obviously I'm on,

Jjk tok and so I kind of got the train of thought from there but

Always an angel never a god cause she can save as many lives as she tries but she can never save all the lives she cares about

Always an angel never a god cause despite being blessed with a power that gives her the parallel of an angel she can never save her world that will inevitably be destroyed by its own deity that granted her that power (since ig angels work under god/gods and so she'd be that angel working under the deity which would be the god and do you get what I mean)

ALWAYS AN ANGEL NEVER A GOD CAUSE WHILE SHE WANTS TO DO SO MUCH GOOD, YET SHES NEVER A GOD BECAHSE SHE DOESMT HAVE THE BENEVOLENCE OF A GOD CAUSE SHE STILL CARRIES THAT SELFISHNESS OF NEVER WANTING TO BE SPIDERGIRL AND HAVING THAG RESPONSIBILITYAJNNNNWNNENEJDD AUAUAYAUUUUUAHGGEEEUUEUEUEUUEUEUE BREAKS DOWN AND STARTS DISNETNTEGRSTING

yeah okay that's all and this is all just personal interpretation btw so it might not match up to its original meaning but HEY

im gonna go draw them hugging now or smth idk bye bye

#jipunk #lorerambles

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strongheartneteyam · 30 days

Note

first of all your are amazing second how do you think your friends would like me I don't have any in my normal day-to-day life and I need them and you guys seem really cool your hype each other up and making jokes and yea sorry for ranting

angel, YOU are amazing 🤍❤ I am beyond sorry n sad that you don't have friends in your day-to-day life... that sucks. But I want u to remember you're not alone, that's more common than u think. I am reserved and don't leave the house much and also, I have moved too much in my life, so, I have like two best friends from when I was in school in real life, a few acquaintances, and the rest of my friends live far away and we talk online. As we grow up, making n maintaining friends becomes harder, it's not like it was when we were just kids and all we needed to say was "hey wanna be my friend?" in recess n then you got a bff :(( I wish it was cuz that's so pure n beautiful but it isn't. I am sure you're gonna find good connections with some people, even if not many, but you know what? Most people don't know it BUT having only a few friends or even just one or two bffs is much better than having a big friend group. I've had many experiences in school and other social places in my teenage years with big groups of friends and most of those people are not really by your side. It's mostly competition n jealousy. I am here to be your friend n I know u can find friends here in our community <3 also, do not care if people are gonna like u or not. That doesn't matter. Just be you and while you're not hurting anyone, you are likeable 💕💕💕 and, i see many of my moots interacting with you and y'all spreading love to each other and I think that's really great n I get happy anytime I see it 🥰 have a lovely day/night, munchkin.

#victória answers her precious flowers ❀˚ ༘#victória's moots live in her heart <3◝(ᵔᵕᵔ)◜#my ask box is ALWAYS open for u

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delphi-dreamin · 2 years

Text

Pact Marks

A/N: Oh my god, y'all. I can't believe this is finally done. I straight up was not having a good time trying for the past like two weeks to finish this chapter! But I kicked my executive dysfunction's ass today and pounded the last bit out! (Pun intended)

Word count: 4.2k (I don't have a favorite or anything...)

NSFW 🔞

Pairing: Lucifer x Delphi

Warnings: breeding(?), fem!MC, biting, so much game dialogue

Please let me know if I need to tag something else! I'm new to this game.

Pt 1: Mammon | Pt 2: Levi | Pt 3: Beel | Pt 4: Asmo

Pt 5: Satan | Pt 6: Belphie

Part 7: Lucifer

Delphi wanders the halls of the House of Lamentation, taking in the warmth of the hardwood beneath her bare feet, the stillness of the air in the deserted corridors, and the weight of hundreds of years of history seeping through the walls. She’ll miss this place when she’s back in the human world. Honestly, she doesn’t want to go back. She went from having a few acquaintances she kept at arm’s length to having a family in just one short year.

She runs her fingertips along the wainscoting in the stairwell, the cool stone as familiar as her own skin now. She looks up at the paintings on the walls with a sad smile; even after a year, she still hasn’t seen them all. The stone beneath her feet sucks the warmth out of her, causing her to shiver. This is why she doesn’t usually take this staircase barefoot, but tonight it was unavoidable.

Making her way to the first floor, she frowns. Music floats through the air from somewhere nearby, but it’s muffled enough that she can’t quite place the melody. At this hour, there’s two rooms in the house it could be coming from. She sets off in the direction of the library, her feet carrying her there without her realizing she’d made a decision as to which room she’d try first.

As she steps inside, she realizes her subconscious was correct. The door to Lucifer’s study is ajar, and the melody she'd heard in the entrance hall is coming from inside. She wants to investigate, to see what exactly the music is, but she realizes as she approaches the door exactly who would be listening to music from the study. Still, her feet carry her almost against her will to the open door, pausing just at the threshold.

“The door’s open,” a deep voice that she knows all too well calls from within.

Delphi enters the study, stopping just inside the door to await further invitation.

“It sounds like quite the party up in the attic,” Lucifer says from one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace. He looks more relaxed than Delphi’s ever seen him, glass of what she can only assume is Demonus in hand, a light pink blush dusting his cheeks.

“And thanks to the fact that everyone else is busy up there,” he continues,” I get to stay here and enjoy my music in peace.”

He gestures for her to come in, so Delphi does, approaching the other chair and leaning on the arm. The melody is gorgeous, a full orchestra lilting and wandering through some far-off land. It seems so familiar.

“What is this you’re listening to?” Delphi asks, still unable to quite place where she knows the music from.

“It’s nice, don’t you think?” Lucifer asks with a rare smile. “This is cursed vinyl edition of The Tale of the Seven Lords soundtrack, which you managed to borrow from Levi for me.”

Delphi nods, understanding now where she’d heard the music before. It had been during her TSL marathon with Mammon that she’d first heard it.

“Is it okay if I listen to it with you?” she asks.

Lucifer smirks. “You already are. But if you mean that you’d like to stay here with me longer, then of course, you’re welcome to.”

Delphi rolls her eyes, but moves around the armchair to sit, curling up with her legs underneath her. She watches the fire crackling away in the fireplace, every now and then popping and throwing embers into the air. As the music washes over her, she finds her mind wandering. It’s her last night in the Devildom. She’d said her goodbyes to everyone, spending as much time with them all individually as she could. All but the eldest. She turns her gaze away from the fire to look at him, only to find his eyes already on her.

“It was in this very room that I selected you for our exchange program,” he muses before taking another sip from his glass. “When I first welcomed you here, I was only doing it for Diavolo. I figured that if you managed to survive a year here without incidents, that was really all I could ask for. And even if things didn’t go as planned, as long as I could keep you from getting eaten by any of the lower-level demons, everything would be all right.”

Delphi turns to him fully, resting her elbows on the arm of the chair and her chin in her hands. She wouldn’t dare say it aloud, but she loves listening to Lucifer talk. When his voice is soft like this, she can almost imagine he actually likes her.

“That’s what I thought,” he chuckles. “But I somehow managed to choose a human who’s such a magnet for trouble that it almost defies belief, wouldn’t you say?”

She feels her face heat up, sure that her cheeks are cherry red. She wasn’t that much of a troublemaker, was she?

“There were times I thought that I’d made a mistake by choosing you.”

“How about now?” Delphi asks, her voice smaller than she’d like. After a year of living with him, surely she shouldn’t be getting this nervous? Her mouth goes dry and her heart pounds in her chest. What would she do if his answer was yes, he did make a mistake by bringing her here? Would it even matter? She’s leaving the next day.

And why does that thought hurt so badly?

“What do you think? I’d say you know the answer.” Lucifer replies with a smirk. He pauses, gazing at the fire. “I made the right choice in selecting you for the program. You’ve kept me quite entertained over the past year. In fact, I think it’s probably the most entertained I’ve been in my whole life.”

“Well, I’m glad I kept you entertained,” Delphi mumbles, attempting to hide her blush in the sleeve of her hoodie. She turns back to the fireplace, hoping that watching the dancing flames will calm her racing heart.

They sit in silence for a while, listening to the crackling flames and the cursed vinyl. Delphi’s racing heart does calm as she watches the flames behind their grate, occasionally spitting sprays of embers into the flue. Eventually, she finds her gaze wandering back to her right, where Lucifer sits observing her.

“So, Delphi,” he begins, standing up to fetch another bottle of Demonus from his impressively full shelf, “have you done all you set out to do here in the Devildom? No unfinished business? No loose ends?”

Delphi swallows hard. This is her chance. She says in as steady a voice as she can muster, “I haven’t made a pact with you, Lucifer.”

He stills, one hand on the bottle he’d chosen. Delphi slowly unfolds herself and rises from her chair, suddenly very aware that this is one of the strongest demons in the Devildom and he doesn’t obey orders from anyone but the demon prince himself. Why would he make a pact with her?

“A pact, you say?” he repeats, voice dangerously low. “I see. You’ve made pacts with all of my brothers, which just leaves me.”

He turns around to face her, eyes glowing red and lips curled in a sadistic smile. Delphi feels like a deer that’s just met face-to-face with the predator that would make it its meal. She’s frozen to the spot as he rounds on her, looking down his perfectly straight nose at her.

“Do you really want to make a pact with me? Truly?” he murmurs, grabbing her chin between his thumb and index finger and forcing her face upwards to look in his eyes. “I don’t know how my brothers felt about making a pact with you, but I am more than a name to be crossed off of your list. I can’t have you lumping me together with everyone else. That won’t do.”

Before she can comprehend what’s happening, her field of vision is completely filled with night-black wings. Something in her abdomen twists seeing Lucifer’s demon form once more, maybe for the last time. She’s always found him dangerously beautiful in this form, even after he tried to kill her twice. Even now, though she can tell he’s trying to intimidate her, she can’t help wanting to stare. Instead she holds his gaze, not even flinching.

“You aren’t going to run?” he asks, eyes wide. “You’ve certainly got guts, don’t you? I’ve always found that aspect of you irritating.”

Delphi’s gaze falls, her heart dropping into her stomach. Irritating.

He takes her chin in his grasp once more, lifting her face up to meet his gaze. With a warm smile, he continues, “But as irritating as it is, it’s even more endearing.”

Her heart skips, heat rising in her cheeks once more. He finds her endearing?

“Now listen, and listen well,” Lucifer says, gripping her chin tighter. “I will not be your possession. I won’t belong to you. You will belong to me.”

Delphi shifts in his grasp, her heart racing and breathing going shallow. With no choice but to stare up into his beautiful ruby eyes, she feels as though she might burst into flames. How long has she been secretly wanting this? To be completely and utterly under the first born’s control? To give herself over to him without reservation and lose herself in him? Her knees go weak at the thought.

“So, what will it be?” he breathes. “Will you make a pact with me, Delphi?”

She takes in a ragged breath and responds, “Yes, Lucifer. I’ll make a pact with you.”

Lucifer smirks, releasing the human from his grasp. “Good. Then it’s done. As of this moment, Delphi, you are mine. I assume that takes care of all your loose ends?”

Delphi shakes her head, saying, “There’s still one more thing I have to do.”

“There is?” Delphi almost giggles at the surprise and confusion written on Lucifer’s face.

She takes a deep breath to steady herself, then grabs the demon by his lapels, pulling him down to press her lips to his. Lucifer briefly stiffens before wrapping his arms around her, holding her close. The kiss only lasts for a moment, soft and chaste, but it’s enough to send her head spinning.

She pulls away, eyes wide and cheeks flushed, covering her mouth with her hand. It’s impossible to decide exactly what she’s feeling. She feels slightly queasy, the dread of realization dropping into her stomach like a sack of rocks. What had she just done?

Her anxiety spiral is cut short as Lucifer cups her cheek in his hand, whispering her name. Then, before she can comprehend what’s happening, he crashes his lips into hers with enough force and ferocity that she feels his fangs cut into her bottom lip. The coppery taste of blood is heavy on her tongue as he parts her lips, his tongue sliding over her own.

Delphi moans into the kiss, reaching up to grab a fistful of his gray-tipped hair. Lucifer responds by picking her up by the backs of her thighs, wrapping her legs around his waist and thrilling in the startled yelp she lets out.

“We’re heading straight to my room,” he growls against her lips. “You’re going to spend your last night in the Devildom there, together with me…all night long, until the break of dawn.”

Delphi whines as he presses hot kisses along her jaw to her ear, warm breath sending shivers down her spine as he hisses into her ear, “I’m not letting anyone else have you now. You’re mine.”

---

As soon as the door to his room is closed, Lucifer has her pinned against it, lips finding hers once more. His gloved hands roam everywhere they can reach, massaging her thighs, gripping her hips under her hoodie, and even sneaking upward to squeeze and massage her breasts, letting out a low growl as she tries to arch into him. Lucifer breaks the kiss to look at her, her pupils blown, cheeks a beautiful dusty rose, and lower lip held firmly between her teeth.

As she catches her breath, Delphi whispers, “Are you going to give me a pact mark?”

“Where would you like it?” Lucifer responds, one arm snaking back under her thighs.

Delphi grins, grabbing his free hand and taking the tip of his middle finger between her teeth. She gently pulls off his red glove, discarding it on the floor. She says, still grinning, “I want to be able to see it every time I look in the mirror.”

The smirk that Lucifer’s lips curl into makes heat pool in her lower abdomen. And a shiver runs down her spine when he asks, “Do you trust me?”

She nods almost too quickly, her heart hammering in anticipation. Exactly how long has she been craving his touch? Since Diavolo’s birthday party? Since the night Belphie broke free? Since the retreat? Or even before? She takes a breath to steady herself, placing her hands on his shoulders.

“Do you have a safe word?” Lucifer brushes a strand of hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. Delphi’s stomach twists at the gentle gesture.

“Rosebud,” she replies.

The Avatar of Pride nods. “I want you to use it if I’m ever hurting you, if I ever cross a line, if I do anything to make you uncomfortable in the least. Do you understand?”

Delphi nods, not missing the irony of one of the most powerful demons in the Devildom insisting she use her safe word when even her human partners wouldn’t. She finds her voice, whispering, “I understand.”

Lucifer nods, his ruby eyes smoldering. His gaze sends warmth coursing through Delphi’s veins, her cheeks, neck, and ears heating. She feels herself beginning to tremble, the need running through her almost unbearable.

With his bare hand, Lucifer traces down the line of her jaw and the tendons in her neck, fingertips ghosting over her skin to rest over the veins on either side. Delphi lifts her chin ever so slightly, and he presses his palm firmly against the tender skin of her throat, capturing her lips with his at the same time. She moans into his kiss, eyes rolling back as his grip on either side of her neck tightens and she feels her head getting lighter. The searing heat of the pact burning into her skin brings tears to her eyes, but Lucifer’s mouth moving against hers, his tongue parting her lips and exploring every bit of her he can reach, sets her throbbing.

It feels like days before the burning at her throat subsides. When it does, and Lucifer’s grasp on her neck loosens, she lets her head fall against his shoulder, breathing heavily and swallowing hard. “That one hurt,” she rasps.

“And yet, you’re hopelessly aroused,” Lucifer chuckles as she rolls her hips, attempting to gain any friction at all.

Delphi turns toward his neck, pressing a kiss against his pulse. She breathes into his skin, “I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

Before she knows exactly what happened, Delphi is falling into the cloud-like sheets and blankets of Lucifer’s massive bed. She watches in awe as the first born shift back into his more human form, taking off his coat and tossing it onto the nearby sofa, then removing his tie and doing the same. She sits up on her elbows to watch as he reveals his neck and chest, mouth watering with every inch of skin revealed.

“Lucifer…” she breathes. He kneels at the foot of the bed, pressing a kiss to the inside of her ankle. Delphi shivers, goosebumps erupting everywhere his lips touch as he trails kisses up her leg to her inner thigh. He skips over her shorts, kissing and biting his way up her stomach as he slides her top up and off. And then he’s at her neck and her back is arching off the bed, her moans echoing through the quiet room.

He chuckles into her ear, relishing the hitch in her breath and the roll of her hips as he whispers, “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to come to me? How desperately I’ve wanted to hear your beautiful voice moaning my name?”

“Lucifer, please,” Delphi whines, bringing a hand up to fist in his hair.

“Please what, love?” Lucifer taunts, breathing heavily into her ear.

His breath, hot in her ear and fanning to her neck, and the way he called her “love” has Delphi arching into him once more. She moans, “Please touch me, fuck me, something!”

With a growl, the Avatar of Pride yanks her shorts and underwear off, smirking at her yelp of surprise. Looking down at her with a dark grin, Lucifer asks, “So, which is it? Will you be satisfied if I only touch you? Or do you want me to fuck you?"

Squirming under his gaze, Delphi whimpers, “Fuck me, please.”

She watches, squeezing her thighs together, as he undoes his belt. His pants drop and her mouth begins to water. Lucifer's black boxer briefs leave nothing to the imagination. He’s big. Not as big as Beelzebub, but still above average for a demon and massive for a human.

Lord, I don’t normally pray, but you did a fine job making this one, she thinks to herself as he removes his underwear as well.

Spreading her knees apart, Lucifer settles between her legs. He runs his hands up her thighs, watching with amusement as she quivers under his touch, her violet eyes fixed on him. He slips one long finger between her folds, smirking at the sheer amount of slick arousal he finds. He leans over her, bringing his lips to her ear once more and teases, “All of this for me?”

Delphi gasps as he slips a single finger into her warmth, hips jerking up to meet him. It’s good, wonderful even, feeling his slim finger gliding inside of her, his mouth on her neck nipping at the sensitive skin beneath her ear. But it isn’t enough.

“More,” she breathes, gripping his shoulders tightly. She whines as he inserts a second finger, the small increase in friction still not enough. She grinds her hips down on his hand desperately, whimpering, “Not enough-!”

“Tell me what you need, love,” Lucifer murmurs into her collarbone. Finding her clit with his thumb, he rubs circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“I need you,” Delphi mewls. “I need you inside me-!”

Lucifer chuckles darkly, withdrawing his fingers slowly. He lines himself up with her entrance, waiting just long enough for Delphi to whisper, “Don’t be gentle. I can take it.”

Raising an eyebrow, Lucifer asks, “Are you sure?”

Cheeks flushed red and eyes glassy, her lips curling into a mischievous grin, Delphi nods. “I like a little pleasure with my pain.”

“If you insist,” Lucifer replies, lifting one of her legs up over his shoulder.

He lines back up with her entrance, teasing it with the tip of his cock before pushing all the way in. He watches with fascination as her back arches off the bed and she cries out, fisting her hands in the sheets. He pauses for a moment, letting her adjust, before withdrawing nearly all the way and crashing back into her. Each time, she lets out a beautiful half-cry, half-moan, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

He thinks for a moment that he should ask if she’s all right, but before he can, Delphi cries, “Faster!”

With an amused huff, Lucifer obliges.

The sound of skin slapping wetly against skin mixes with the moans and whimpers of pleasure, creating the most beautiful symphony Lucifer thinks he’s ever heard. Beneath him, Delphi reaches behind her to grip the headboard, a string of curses falling from her lips as she does.

“Fuck, Lucifer! Just like that!” she cries. Tension coils within her as her mind goes blank, the only coherent thought running through her head: Lucifer!

She releases her grip on the headboard as he lifts her into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck. He holds her tightly, the burn in the backs of her thighs secondary to the heat pulsing through her with every drag of his cock against every sweet spot she has. She’s trembling but holding on for dear life as he continues to pound into her, every thrust winding the coil tighter and tighter until she feels almost like she’ll burst.

“I’m so close-!” she whines gripping him tighter and burying her face in his neck.

Lucifer grins, bringing his lips to her ear and whispering, “Then come for me, darling. Let me feel you.”

As he sinks his teeth into her neck, the coil snaps and Delphi cries out, riding wave after wave of white hot ecstasy as Lucifer continues to thrust into her. She grips him tightly, digging her nails into his back as her hips roll against him and her body shudders.

Lucifer follows shortly behind, filling her with his seed. He captures her lips in a kiss as he gently lays her down on the bed and withdraws from her warmth, swallowing her weak groan from the sudden absence. Breaking the kiss, he carefully removes her legs from his shoulders and watches with a smile and she curls onto her side, looking for all the world like she could be sleeping.

He brushes a strand of hair away from her face, asking, “Are you all right?”

Delphi’s eyes remain closed, but she smiles. “I am amazing,” she replies. “You were amazing. We’re doing that again, right?”

Lucifer chuckles, running a hand up the back of her thigh. “I have all night to savor you, love. We’re nowhere near done.”

---

Dawn comes entirely too quickly.

Delphi never wants to leave Lucifer’s bed. She wants to remain there for the rest of eternity, relishing in the softness of the sheets and the warmth of his wings wrapped around her like a cocoon. She could stay there forever if not for the tiny detail that she’s leaving in just a few short hours.

---

Her new pact mark is impossible to miss, as are the dozens of hickeys dotting her neck, chest, and shoulders. Every demon, angel, and human in the council chamber stares openly as she arrives. She thought she’d be more self-conscious, walking in with most of the evidence of last night on full display. But instead of embarrassment, Delphi feels two pact marks begin to tingle: Lucifer's and Asmo’s.

Just as she’s thinking that maybe she’ll get away without anything being said, she receives a text from Asmo:

Boo 💋

>Delphi dear, kitten, just what exactly were you doing last night?

>That’s a secret, Asmo.

Boo 💋

>Oh, there’s nothing secret about it, hon. The evidence is all over your neck and shoulders.

>Fine, fine.

>When I left the attic last night, I was just gonna get some water. But I heard Lucifer listening to music in his study.

>I found him in his study, we talked a bit, I asked him to make a pact with me, and then things moved to his bedroom.

Boo 💋

>Wait, is that it? That’s all you’re going to tell me?

>You’re so mean, Delphi!!

Delphi chuckles, slipping her D.D.D. into her back pocket. She turns just in time to say goodbye to Simeon, Solomon, and Luke. After giving them each a hug, she watches as each of them walks through the portal Barbatos holds open for them. And then she’s alone with the demons.

Everyone says their goodbyes, Diavolo and Barbatos, then all of the brothers until she’s left with one last demon to say goodbye to.

Lucifer steps in front of her, arms crossed. He gives her a smile and says, “I’ll never forget this year I’ve spent with you. You’ll always be welcome here in the Devildom anytime you’d like to return.”

Tears stinging in her eyes, Delphi throws her arms around his waist and buries her face in his chest. Lucifer freezes for a moment, eyes wide, but relaxes into the hug, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and leaning his head down to her ear.

“When you do visit again,” he murmurs into the shell of her ear, “we’ll have to pick back up where we left off last night. Because there’s still so much you could learn from me, so much I’d like to reveal.”

The shiver that runs through her at his words is absolutely wonderful, leaving her knees weak and her heart racing. She looks up at him, pouting. “Can I have another hour?”

Lucifer releases her, chuckling, “Not today. But one day soon.”

“Yo, Lucifer!” Mammon yells, noticing as Lucifer strokes Delphi’s cheek with his knuckles. “What’s the big deal whisperin’ to Delphi like that, huh?! And back off, you’re too close!”

“It’s time,” Diavolo announces as Barbatos opens up another portal.

Delphi sighs, stepping back from her newest pact mate and toward the portal. She stops just short of the doorway, turning back to wave to everyone. She’ll miss them, but it won’t be forever. She’ll be back.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer smut #lucifer x oc #lucifer x mc #mc!delphi #y'all this is my biggest project since like 2015 #and i finished it???#what???#so what do i write next??

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