#cause why would he choose to hide it unless he KNEW that people are reading

[tackletofset]

Proof that Will Kempen knows and chose to hide Anharion's real name from us.

[starillusion13]

Our Girl

request: "can you do san wooyoung and y/n in a poly they have nsfw and and they love each other but they dont know it until one of them say they like the other two"

Pairing: San x reader x Wooyoung

Genre: Fluff, Friends to lovers, Smut

Warnings: they are caring bestfriends to you😫, mention of insult in public by your toxic crush, lots of kissing, fingering, big San, big Woo, crying, thigh slapping, breast play, praising, comfort, aftercare.

W.C: 4.1k

Note: please I want to thanks to people for reading and reblogging. Reviews are always appreciated. Spread love not hate. This fic is so and so for me Ik😔.

Network: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity

MINORS DONT INTERACT UNDER THE POST🔞

🫶

"What happened, y/n?" San asked you from across the room as soon as he saw you entering the house from the front door. You had a grumpy look on your face visible and almost kicked your shoes aside before placing the bag on a chair and plopped on the chair couch.

He had called you earlier on your way back home and you didn't reply like usual and you were eager to cut the call. And it's very usual for your best friends to ask you about the thing that was torturing you and making you so  dull.

You leaned back and rested your head, closing your eyes as you sighed deeply.

A hand entangled in your head started caressing your scalp and you smiled and hummed to the touch. The hand movements made it clear of the owner of the sweet gestures.

A small smile resting on your face and the man behind you patted your cheeks, urging you to speak.

"I don't want to talk." You said angrily.

"Where were you?"  Wooyoung detached his hands from your scalp and stood in front of you.

"Look at me, y/n." He crossed his arms and stared at you. You refused to look at him and shook your head.

San chuckled and stood up from his place and stood beside his bestfriend. They knew very well that you were exhausted and grumpy with something. After all, both of them being your best friends since college life and also roommates since then made you three closer with each other.

You always felt glad to get them as your bestfriend because they treated you like their own family and of course you tried to do a lot in return as well. Today they have returned early from their workplace.

It's very much clear that they don't let anything happen to you or let anything to slide if that something is causing you problem and now when you are exhausted and snapping at them. They wouldn’t leave the spot unless you are confessing everything.

San crouched down in front of you and caressed your hand, "y/n..." his voice was a scale lower than usual and it was demanding but still you were choosing to close your eyes and ignore them. After all, you wanted some rest after having the worst day of your life. "Wooyoung is asking you something."

"And I said I don't want to talk. Please keep quiet. My head hurts so bad right now."

To your blind vision, San nodded towards the standing boy and the other was quick to go back into the kitchen. San patted your hand and smiled, "it's okay. You don't have to talk with us. But please go and get fresh. I'll prepare a bath for you."

You felt hurt when you heard his soft and caring voice towards you. They didn't do anything then why were you ignoring them. They were just trying to help you out with your situation and trying to lift up your mood. You mentally scolded yourself that if there were some other people then they would have left you long back for your behavior during your down times.

Your eyes flutter open and quickly you noticed how he was still on the floor but his gaze was on you. The look was very endearing but there was something he was hiding. Your mind and eyes are really playing with you today.

"I'm sorry. But Thank you, San."

He shook his head and stood up, "come on. Don't say sorry. You are disturbed with something and it's okay to be like this with us. I don't mind. But come fast upstairs, I'm preparing the bath for you." He patted your cheeks and with hurried steps, he disappeared towards the stairs.

Craning your neck, you saw a familiar back of a figure in a black tshirt and trouser busy in the kitchen. You pressed your lips and went into the direction to find him placing some boxes on the countertop.

He looked up and smiled, "y/n?"

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. But are you okay? Where were you though?" He asked you before placing the last item in the corner and leaned on the counter.

"Oh...don't ask about that. It's a nightmare to be in today's situation. Please Woo, don't ask me this again."

He shook his head and stared at you," no y/n. If you don't share with us then how come we'll sort out the problem. You know very clearly how I hate seeing you like this."

Taking a grape from the bowl, he swat your palm before taking it away. "Go wash your hands."

Rolling your eyes, you took the water bottle, "I'm just going to freshen up. Eating a grape wouldn't have matter much." After a small gulp of water, your throat felt like to cool it down.

His eyes followed your every movements until your eyes met his, "what are you looking at? I know I probably look like a shit right now."

"You look beautiful...always." He whispered the words but loud enough to make it audible for

you. You smirked and as soon as you were going to reply him, San called your name from upstairs.

"Gotta go." You laughed when he shook his head at your dramatic exit. But you could hear him say loudly, "come down fast or I won't be keeping any food left for you."

"Oh you will! You know how much I love your cooking."

Your hurried steps could be heard by both of them and the moment you entered your room, you could see San standing with folded hands and staring darkly at you.

"Why were you running? I told you so many times not to run in stairs, it's risky."

You took off your jacket and placed it on the bed and put your phone on the table after plugging it to charge. You smiled, "don't scold me as if I'm a baby."

"Yes you are. You are my baby."

"What?"

"Now come on go inside. The food will be getting cold if you don't hurry up. And that doesn't mean to run down the stairs. Take the bath quickly."

You shoved him out of your room when he was sticked to his spot and scolding you and telling you so many things at once . You had it enough of him and you didn't want to hear a single word more from him.

.

.

.

You were humming a song when coming down the stairs and your gaze fell on Wooyoung and San sitting together on the sofa. They were having some conversations between them and so you tip toed over to the place and stood behind them.

"Boo!"

"Oh gosh!" "Who?!"

You laughed out loud when you saw their surprised faces and you leaned to the sofa for support while laughing. They watched you in disbelief but soon little smiles spread across their faces.

"Y/n."

"So you are scared of ghosts."

San shook his head and nudged the other to follow him while he replied you, " no we are not scared of ghost. It's called getting shocked with sudden surprise."

"Huh! Deny deny. I have seen the look on your faces."

They were arranging the plates on the table and you helped them with bringing the foods over there from the countertop. The smell was already making your stomach growl. They saw your excitement when you noticed they have made your favorite foods.

"Is this because I was snapping at you both earlier?" You asked them and quickly took a bite of the meat. Your eyes lit up.

San nodded and Wooyoung proudly walked to your side and pinched your nose, "yes. I know that only food can make you happy."

"Oh you know me too well. Thank you so much."

"The mixed rice is made by San. He was learning to make it last since Wednesday and finally he made it happen." San smacked his head when he revealed his attempts.

"Thanks. You both are blessings in my life. I don't know what I would have done without you two." Wooyoung sat beside you and San across from you. They both noticed your sigh in the end of the sentence and they exchanged looks.

"Y/n." San called your name in a low tone. You quickly looked up but your hands and mouth was still working on to feed yourself. "Where did you go? Why are you so down?"

Wooyoung quickly added to his sentence "Please tell us what happened."

You chewed the food and gulped a bit of water from the glass, " that guy I mentioned to you yesterday asked me to meet today over dinner after working hours."

They nodded and urged you to continue and so you did while looking down at your plate, "he didn't ask me to spend time with him but for his worst intention. He called over some of my university students and insulted me in front of them. he made fun of me of how once I have proposed him." you brushed back your hairs and sighed again, "it was long ago but still he had to mention it."

San grabbed the spoon tightly in his hold, clenching his jaw with the thought of how to commit a murder. when his eyes locked with the other boy in the room, he noticed he had a similar look on his face like him.

Wooyoung turned towards you and his heart ached when he saw tears falling down from your eyes and San was watching you from across the table. you wiped off the tears and smiled at them before putting a piece of meat inside your mouth, "I should've known before that he is an asshole. it would've been better if I had proposed one of you."

the words randomly came out of your mouth that you didn't notice that the two boys who were keenly listening to you had their ears perked up. proposed to them? the sudden awkward and silent atmosphere got interrupted by your unusual laugh. Wooyoung had an amused expression at your poor attempt to hide your shyness and San urged both of you to eat.

he was waiting for the dinner to end.

No one said anything regarding the last words came out of your mouth but you could feel the tension in the atmosphere when laying down on the couch in the living room after the dinner and both of them sitting near you. San was sitting on the space at the very end of the couch near your feet and Wooyoung was sitting on a chair. both of them staring at you.

you were laying comfortably but when you feel two pairs of eyes---of your bestfriends on you, you rolled your eyes before raising your brows at them, "now, what's up with you two?"

"what do you mean by proposing one of us?" San was the first one to raise the topic. you chuckled and paused the video on your phone and replied, "oh that's nothing. forget about it."

"Y/n...did you see what happened to you when you didn't listen to us about that guy? whenever you ignored us, you got yourself in a new problem." he stated and rested his palm over your ankles. that was a common gestures and you were used to their often skin-ship but today his sudden touch made your body shivered.

you switched off the screen and sighed, "I know and I'm sorry."

"Look y/n. you don't have to be sorry for that but atleast let us know what is bothering you."

Afterall, he is right. they do so much for you and in return, you cant even tell them your problems.

you glanced at both of them and closed your eyes, "It might sound weird but I...have feelings for my best friends. please I know or maybe don't know if you both have girlfriends or boyfriends or anyone but it's just i had to tell you to take off this feelings away from my heart."

you bit your lips and cursed yourself again. is this going to end your friendship between you three. No, right? oh gosh. what have you done? you inhaled sharply and pulled your legs to get off the couch but you got halted.

Someone grabbed your ankles and pulled your legs straight. your eyes fluttered open and you looked at him confused but the look on his face was so unpredictable. it was dark yet somewhere a caring and protectiveness was surrounding him. you looked towards your side to find Wooyoung standing with crossed hands over his chest.

"It's not weird to have feelings for someone so obvious." Wooyoung stated and stared at you darkly.

you blinked, "what do you mean?"

"Y/n...if i say the feelings are mutual." he said and glanced at the boy sitting beside your feet. you looked over to him as well to find him nodding at his words.

"Are you serious? really?"

Wooyoung laughed at your wide eyed look and crouched down beside you to flick your nose, "yes baby. so what do you say? shall we?"

"shall we what?" you tried to get up but Wooyoung pushed you down by pushing down your shoulders against the leather. "what?"

San chuckled and shook his head, "Woo... not now."

are you thinking right? they are wanting the same thing like yours right? come on...its been so long you have get off yourself and you have never been laid off. but what if they want something else and you are just depicting the situation in a wrong way.

"Please...it's now. I want it now." you whispered the words to them. they both stared at you after hearing it.

"Do you know what you are asking for?" San's grip tightened with the words from his mouth. Your anticipating eyes and the way you licked your lips when slowly nodding towards them made him lose his mind.

Wooyoung chuckled and you looked at him, "you are asking for something which can change every dynamic of this relationship." You again nodded at his words.

You grabbed his wrist and squeezed it, "I know...please."

The way you looked at him, as if you lured him towards you and he was quick to attach his lips onto yours. A lot of thoughts were storming inside your mind but the top of everything was that your best friend was kissing you. You agreed to kiss—to do everything with your best friend.

He had immersed himself into the moment but you were staring at him, your palms resting on his cheeks, entangling with his hairs and smoothing over the neck and then when you felt a separate set of hands fondling your thighs. You were gasping for the lack of air but the one kissing you had no intention of leaving you at anytime soon.

You pulled him away from you and you breathed heavily, "I would have died of lack of air, Woo."

His laugh echoed inside the wide room and he kissed your cheek. San leaned forward to hovered on top of you. The movements caused your top to ride up a little exposing little part of your stomach. San smiled at the sight and kissed on the exposed flesh making you giggle and he soon pressed his lips on yours. His kiss was sort of hungry than the other one. He was alternating between kissing your jaw, your throat and cheek. His palm over your breast squeezed it lightly, earning low moans out of your mouth.

"Y/n...if you continue making those sounds then I might have you in such a ways that you can't even think of." San whispered into your ears while resting on top of yours.

"Then have me like that." You said and smirked at him.

He chuckled and pecked the tip of your nose, "you are so bad, baby."

You smiled and felt him pulled you upwards with him to let Wooyoung sit behind you. He hugged you from behind and snuggled in your shoulders and murmured sweet praises in your ears. You patted his head with one hand and San kissed your other one which was intertwined with his.

"Is it your first time?" San asked you before slowly pulling down your short and caressed your thighs. You nervously bit your lips and shyly nodded.

A nervousness appeared on your face and they both noticed your sudden change in behavior. And Wooyoung kissed your ears, "what happened? Do you want me to stop? Just say it, y/n."

"No!" You quickly denied. "It's just I don't know if I can handle this or any."

San cupped your cheeks and smiled, "it's okay. We won't cross the limits. Just two for us okay?"

"Hm..."

Wooyoung's hand disappeared under your top when he unclipped your bra to feel your breasts got loose in his hold. He bit your neck and kissed away the pain. You were so lost in the moment that you didn't notice San had put aside your panty to insert a finger when you gasped.

"It's okay, y/n. You are okay." Both of them praised you. San groaned when he felt you clenching around his finger. When he felt your sensitive skin filling up his fingers with slick, he smirked and added one more fingers and started pumping at a higher speed.

"Oh gosh! Just look at her face, San. She is already done with just fingers. How will she last with us inside her?" His laugh echoed in your ears.

"Stop it!" You whined and San chuckled, "do you want me to stop?"

"No! I mean I can take you both. It's just...feels too good."

"Really?" He increased his pace and Wooyoung pinched your nipples and massaged your breasts. Your chest heaving up and down. San noticed your attempt to close the legs around his hand but he held them apart, "don't or I will stop."

"No no please more...please more..I.. I"

"Are you close?" He asked you and you nodded. He slapped your thigh, "use your words."

"Yes yes...please..."

He detached his hands from your core and pulled down his own pants to reveal his hard member and red tip poking at your vision. You gulped at the sight of the size and he noticed your eyes focused on it and ruffled your hairs.

"Can you take it?"

"I think so..."

He pecked you before slowly entering you. You cried out in pain for the sudden stretch. San first had a concern etched on his face but quickly pulled out.

"Are you okay?" He brushed your hairs and cupped your face to look at your teary eyes.

You nodded, "yes...please San."

"Are you sure?"

You nodded and first he entered just the tip. Your breath hitched and you whimpered. Wooyoung cooed at you and grabbed your chin to pull you in a kiss to distract you from the pain. Your palms tightly clutched San's shoulders and he hissed when your nails digging in his skin because of his sleeveless tshirt.

San moved your attention on him and increased his pace when your previous orgasm returned again. You couldn't take him properly but he didn't mind, he was just concentrating on you. He wanted you safe.

Soon, when he felt you clenching, he was sure you were near to come and groaned before pulling you in a kiss. He was both hungry and desperate for you. His thumb rubbed circles over your clit and you whined.

The look on your face when the orgasm hit you was enjoyed by both of them. San groaned at the sight of your blissed out expression.

"You look so hot like this. I can't stop myself."he said and leaned back. “I love you baby.”

“San.” You shyly called his name and he moved your chin up to look at him, “say it pretty.”

“I love you too.”

Wooyoung turned you around when the other one pulled himself out after riding out the high.

You were still in a daze because of the previous activity and he rested your head on his shoulder, stroking your hairs, "it's okay. Take breaths." His other hand pulling down his pants down and soon you felt his tip poking your entrance.

His gestures were always sweet and he was taking time to let yourself relax before he could have you. You hummed in silence and sighed.

He soon felt your breaths were normal against his skin and he used his two fingers to scissor you and painted the walls with your slick. You moaned to his touch and he pecked your nose.

"You are so cute..."

You kissed his shoulder then his neck before facing him in front and pecked his lips. He smirked at you, “it’s seems like you are enjoying this too much.”

“Please…woo…please.”

He caressed your cheek and you snaked your hands around his neck when he slowly entered his tip inside you. When he saw a green sign, then inserted his whole length, stretching you out. He kissed your eyes and pressed his lips onto yours.

“Is it okay? Hurting somewhere?” He murmured softly and caressed your back. Again, his hand went under your top to put his attention on your breasts and you moaned.

He didn’t move and made you still with the right grip on your waist. Tears welled up in your eyes for the unbearable pain but you were constantly nodding to give him the sign to proceed.

But he didn’t. He was enjoying your impatience.

Another pair of hands patted your head and when you looked at the direction, you found San kneeling beside you both and encouraging you to adjust to the length.

You shifted in your place and Wooyoung groaned loudly. As soon as you whined, he grabbed your neck and breast and started moving in a slow pace.

It was building up the euphoric feeling once again, the pain turning into pleasure and your body shaking with every little torture on your nipples. The sensitive skin over your throat and neck was getting bruised by him. Not only him but San was enjoying your skin against his lips as well.

“You are so tight and clenching around me as if you don’t want me to stop tonight. Is it right, baby?” He moaned out loudly.

San chuckled in your ears, “isn’t she so perfectly tight? Like perfect for us.”

His pace increased and you were literally bouncing on his lap. You didn’t have to do anything much because he was guiding you through.

“I..I want to come…please.”

“Do you?” He smirked mischievously and rubbed slow circles over your clit. You nodded aggressively but he grabbed your neck to pull you close and pressed a small kiss, “words baby.”

“Yes yes please.”

“Here you go.” He thrusted deeper until you both come undone. Both of your chests heaving up and down against each other. He didn’t pull out but rested your head against his shoulder and San stroked your hairs.

“Shh…slow down. Are you okay?”

You hummed in reply, earning a kiss from both of them on your head.

“So?… did you just do it to take off my mind from the incident happened earlier?”

San asked you, “did it take off your mind from it?”

You nodded, “but there’s something else.”

“What?” Wooyoung asked you and raised your head to cup your cheeks. He smiled at you and you returned a little kiss.

“Does this sound selfish that I don’t want to choose one of you? But both.” You asked and whined when he pulled out.

“Yes.” San said and glanced at the other one before cracking into a smile, “it will sound selfish if you choose one….as we are not planning to leave you to only one.”

“And no one else other than from us. I love you…I fucking love you so much. My wish came true to have you as my girlfriend.” Wooyoung cheered in the end of the sentence.

“I love you too, Woo.”

You again rested your head on him and closed your eyes, “I’m so tired…but again I need to wash up.”

“It’s okay. You rest here. We will clean you up and we will sleep together.” San said and stood up.

Your eyes opened, “really?”

“Anything for our girl.”

Taglist: @mymoodwriting @justhere4kpop @anyamaris @yeoobin @icchyi @jwnghyuns @piratequeen-queenofgames @dinonuguaegi @oreharuuu @hwanring @sanwifesstuff @kiwiisnthereoops @kiwiraccoon @hyuukah @kazscara @aceofspadesbiofalltrades @nvdhrzn @meowmeeps @vtyb23 @haechansbbg

[open!]

[calummss]

The Weirdest Welcome | Thomas Shelby

masterlist

part 2 of the odd comfort series

I III <- please read part 1 & 2 otherwise this won’t make sense

summary: thomas shelby brings you to your new home following the marriage contract you had no say in. a questionable car ride leaves you astonished

pairing: modern day! thomas shelby x fem! reader

words: 2.2k

a/n: tommy is NOT canon. i altered his character to my liking for the story, though he’s pretty much the same just more sarcastic and flirty

The silence in the car filled the enclosed space like poisonous gas. Every crevice releasing the substance that slowly, unnoticeably crept into your system. It was quiet. Too quiet and you hated silence. Part of you wanted to ignore the man that basically just traded you, but being stuck in this vehicle for another three hours without a spoken word already made you go insane just thinking about it.

With your hands on your lap, your thumbs rubbing against each other causing a warm friction was a coping mechanism you often blindly did when you were nervous. You were trying to build up the courage to ask him, your lips parting and closing a few times. Thomas seemed to notice even though you haven't seen his eyes look at anything but the road ahead of him.

‘You can ask me questions, little mouse.’ His emotionless tone made the offer seem uninviting. Like it was dangerous to ask a simple question. ‘I don’t bite, unless I’m in the mood.’ His tongue glided over his teeth. His ego was insane.

Stop calling me little mouse.

‘Why did you want me?’ You turned your head, so harsh that you pulled a neck muscle you tried to hide by smiling aggressively.

‘Because I like choosing things that come best in handy.’ He looked at you for a split second before his eyes found the gray cement road that led through green fields that were endless to the eye.

‘So I’m a thing.’ You muttered to yourself, staring out of the window looking at nothing. You decided looking anywhere but at him would be better.

‘No, you’re my wife.’

‘Forced wife. I had no say. As always.’

Being a woman in the mafia isn’t always as grand as it seemed like in books. The only thing you can decide on for yourself is if you want to use a tampon or pad. Sleep schedules can be forced when guests are over, which is almost every night. Your mother picked out your clothes, mostly to make arrangements for your marriage proposals. Food was chosen by your father’s maid who only obeyed him. Choosing anything but for yourself seemed so near yet so far. You really just wanted to decide for yourself what you want to do, to wear, to eat, shit even to think. Given Mr. Shelby’s reputation, much change would possibly not proceed so you expected nothing but disappointment from this marriage . Not to have a hopeful outlook and not to look for change, because if you expect disappointment you can’t be disappointed. Thank you MJ for your quote.

Thomas’ silence sliced through the tension like a ragged knife your family chef used to use to make your favourite sushi. How you missed that already. The sweet taste of the tofu that complimented the rice. Mild flavour of the fish, now the bitter taste of an arranged marriage coated your tongue, hard to swallow, uncomfortable to keep in your mouth. A desire to simply spit it out.

Thomas looked back at you, his hand raising to your face forcing your chin his way. You stared at him. A glimmer of regret in his eyes? Or constipation. Either one of them but it wasn’t like you cared.

His fingers were rough, cold, hard in contrast to your smooth, soft skin, but they felt like they knew you. That they belonged. Normally the touch of a man repulsed you. Him you didn’t seem to mind.

Stop thinking like this, you're not supposed to like your kidnapper! Thomas Shelby will not Stockholm syndrome me!

‘I chose you because your father would’ve sent you to Bosnia, to a Mr. Lubura who likes to rape and cut women for fun.’ He gave you a sarcastic yet sadistic smile before letting go of your chin. ‘I may be killing people out and about on my morning run, but I don’t kill women. Rape or torture them for that matter.’

‘My father wouldn’t have done that.’

‘I saw the contract.’

‘How do I know you’re not lying.’ You snapped back at him. Venom in your voice. The man was trying to lie to you. Simple as that.

‘I like red on my hands, not white on my soul.’

‘So blood is fine but you draw the line at white lies?’ You snickered back at him. How on earth were you supposed to spend the rest of your harmonious life with him? Who would guarantee that the red he liked wouldn’t be the blood coursing through your veins.

He probably likes innocent people’s blood sticking to him like those pranks you see in American movies. The feather and tar kind.

‘Something like that.’ His white pearly teeth shone through his lips.

Ugh! He’s making it so hard to avoid his handsome face.

‘Let’s assume that you're telling the truth and my father used Sabini as a cover,’ you crossed your legs and narrowed your eyes at him like you had magical eyes that could turn anything they saw into flames. A new wish you noted mentally. ‘Why do you care about your enemy’s daughter? Is this some kind of dark romance story? Because trust me, I’ve read enough of those and normally the guys are attractive. You’re not.’ Lie.

‘You think I’m ugly?’ He chuckled.

‘Well—, I—, It doesn’t matter.’ Rolling your eyes as you shifted your attention back to the green scenery that you still hadn’t passed through. Sunflowers poking through the wheat plants.

Thomas stared at you again. This time possessiveness taking over every millimetre. ‘From the moment I saw you five years ago I knew you were mine. And what is mine belongs at my side.’

‘Yours?’ You raised your eyebrows with amusement and let out a laugh that you tried to suppress but failed miserably.

‘You can hate me all you want. Make as many jokes as you like, but don’t you dare disrespect me in front of my men or I swear I’ll hand deliver you to Bosnia myself. I’ll even add an expensive silk ribbon tied around your pretty little mouth.’

You had definitely pissed him off. You decided it was best if you stayed quiet and just accepted the fact that you were no longer an Eyrie without a voice but a Shelby with a somewhat whisper. But for heaven’s sake you just couldn’t hold your tongue.

‘I still don’t like you though.’

‘I can live with that. I’ll just have to convert you with my tongue.’ This man must have a special place in hell for dripping in lust.

‘Put your tongue anywhere near me and I swear to god I’ll rip it out and eat it like a steak.’

‘Careful,’ a smile formed on his lips yet his tone low that sent a weird thrill to your stomach. ‘You’re turning me on.’

You scoffed in response and stared out of the window, ignoring his presence. And you would continue to do so until you arrived home. There was no need to fuel his fucked up fanatasies.

When you arrived at the new house you’d call home until you parted ways with your soon-to-be-husband, the smell of freshly baked bread filled your senses as you stepped into the grand lobby. The house was big, clean, and was open yet felt like a home. Thomas brought you to your room you’d be staying in until the officiated wedding, being the good catholic boy he was of course. Your room was spacious and a blank slate, giving you the option to do whatever you wanted with the place.

Setting your bags next to you you noticed something on your nightstand—an aroma diffuser just like you had at home.

How does he know I use this? You stepped towards it and eyed it up and down like it was something strange.

‘What is this?’ You turned around to see Thomas walking through the door with one of your bags you left inside the car.

‘An aroma diffuser, but you knew that already.’ He placed his hands inside his trouser pockets and leaned himself against the dresser that stood next to the doorway.

‘For what?’

‘For your insomnia.’ He eyed you as other men brought more stuff into your room, but both of you ignored them as you felt like the only two people in the room.

‘How do you know that?’ You asked seriously.

This man is making it so hard to truly dislike him. Stop it brain.

‘I know a lot of things, Y/n,’ he gave you sly eyes as he pushed himself off the dresser and slowly but steadily walked towards you. ‘Like the fact that you only wear a shirt to bed with a thong and when it gets too hot you even ditch that.’

Never mind I take that back. This man was actually insane.

‘What the fuck. Did you watch me in my sleep like a perv?’

‘Settle in. My housekeeper Mary will come in shortly.’ And he turned his back to you.

As he walked through the door you shouted at him but he ignored you and kept walking. ‘How the fuck do you know that, Thomas Shelby! You pervert!’

The next morning, Mary woke you up bright and early. The sky was crystal clear, a pretty shade of blue as the white clouds slowly moved past your window. She ripped off the sheet that kept your body warm, a flash of coldness running down your body as you drew in a breath, muttering ‘Bitch’ as Mary called you ungrateful. She said that the boss was requesting your presence for breakfast and that you were to go downstairs immediately.

Not wanting to cause more problems for today, you slipped into the bathroom to check on your appearance before you descended down the marble stairwell and joined Thomas Shelby in the kitchen.

You glared at him, he only responded with his eyes lifting from the newspaper he was infatuated with before grunting a simple, sleep well?

‘Great.’ You smiled brightly, sarcasm to be heard from miles away.

A maid was walking around the kitchen. First refilling Thomas’ cup of tea, then walking towards the stove where the popping sound of fried sausages and eggs pulled you in.

You scanned the countertops for coffee. The only thing that could probably keep you sane in this new life but a coffee machine nor instant coffee was to be spotted.

‘You don’t have a coffee machine.’ You said loudly, still opening cabinets in hopes of a random spark of magic to make the brown liquid appear out of thin air.

‘I don’t drink coffee.’

‘How do you function without coffee.’ You and your hands over your face in defeat. ‘Ugh.’

Thomas didn’t respond, instead his phone was now glued to his phone as his fingers typed away for a second.

The maid nudged you to sit down at the table and you complied by sitting at the opposite end. Sitting directly next to him would probably make his sick heart flutter. Giving him the impression that you felt something for him instead of anger.

Mary plated your food and poured a glass of water, shortly after being dismissed by Thomas.

You stared at the food on your plate for several seconds. Your stomach was growling but just the thought of placing it between your teeth made you physically sick, so you decided to distract yourself with a lovely, intellectual, and kind conversation with the devil himself.

‘So what do you do if you’re not out in the streets corrupting a good catholic woman's heart?’

‘Suck out their soul.’ His dark eyes penetrated your gaze. Barely able to hold it you took your time taking in the room you were seated in.

‘Hilarious.’ You scoffed.

‘You were expecting a serious answer with that attitude?’ He raised an eyebrow, throwing the newspaper onto the table before piercing the sausages with his knife.

‘Yeah, I was.’ You toothily smiled back at him, dropping it instantly.

Thomas ate a piece of sausage, his eyes still fixated on you. ‘No,’ he continued to chew before he swallowed and continued. ‘I steal their pure innocent virginities through their pussies and then disregard them like rubbish.’

The statement sent a churning down to your stomach. He was lying. You knew that. But it was the fact that he was capable of doing such terror, that was what was scary. A man with the power and the lack of emotion that had every ounce in his body ready for such horrendous acts simply didn’t feel like it…

Without much time to dwell on the thought the door suddenly burst open, a heavy set man ambelling towards the kitchen counter. He held a package in his meaty arms. A package with a coffee machine pictured on it. Your eyes darted from the package to Thomas several times before muttering a ‘Thank you.’

‘I’ll be out on business tonight.’ He stood up and filed his arms into his black suit jacket. ‘Since this is your home now you can do whatever you want except for running away.’ And he walked out of the door like he did yesterday. No more spoken words, just the heavy tension leaving with him at last before you stood up and finally got yourself that hot cup of coffee.

[an-angel-in-the-garden]

Hello! I saw that requests were open and I was wondering if I could request the demon brothers from Obey Me! (separately) with a mermaid s/o? The brothers are unaware that their s/o is a mermaid since they hid themself amongst humans and pretended to be one. But since they’re in the Devildom and they miss the ocean, they’ll take really long baths in the bathroom while in their mermaid form whenever they can. Maybe the brothers find out they’re a mermaid when they accidentally see their s/o in their mermaid form? Gender-neutral please! And sorry if this is kinda a long request. I love your work and I hope you have a lovely day! Thank you! ❤️

Aww, I'm glad you like my work thank you for requesting it! And don't worry I love long requests it really helps me when it comes to writing! I will also say this is technically against my rules as I only write for 6 at a time but I will make an exception only for the Obey Me brothers just please keep that in mind. - Lilly

Set up

It's been a rough week the heat in the Deilvdom Is already above average but this past week has been the worst it's almost unbearable and I want nothing more then to get home so I can soak myself for a while. I've been doing that most days anyway but now it's more out of need than a want. Another hot day and another need for a long bath only this time I would get to relax for even longer! 'Everyone should still be at RAD for the meeting" With how hot it was Diavolo said it would be okay for me to head back so I didn't risk passing out so I would have at least an extra hour before anyone got home! Fully submerged in cool water my Iridescent tail just slightly hanging out I let myself unwind from the week. "Other than the heat things have been good I've kept my grades high and tomorrow we'll be going on a date" My lips pull into a smile as I muse not noticing the sound of knocking or the worried voice of my partner calling out to me it seems only natural this would happen one day but opening my eyes to the shocked face of my lover wasn't how I planned it.

Lucifer

Though fully shocked by the news that you're apparently a kind of merfolk he is also in stunned awe

It might take him a few moments but once he recomposes himself he'll jump straight to questioning you on things

He's not mad not even really a little angry that you kept this from him he just wants to know why and how you hid it....did Diavolo know?!

After you answer his questions he just stands there in amazement as a human he thought you the most beautiful being and now you're also like a shining star

You also have no idea how much pride this man has when he finds out you wanted to tell him and only him for a while now

He does get a little shy about a desire he now has but he still tells you about it (it's wanting to see and swim with you in the ocean)

" My my and here I thought you couldn't surprise me anymore then you already have you truly are my most special one huh?

Mammon

So flustered I mean what was he supposed to do you're in the tub and oh...oh you're a merfolk

He doesn't fully know how to process this information but man he knows he's happy and a little upset

Ask tons of questions and most of them are about why and how you hid this from him

Once that's out of the way Mammon is so excited you've been his number one since before you even started dating but knowing this secret about you and being the only one to know even if it was an accident makes him so happy

You get a new nickname then and there and it's His Sea Jewel though he still calls you his human to cause duh

He plans to take you to the ocean whenever he can just so you be fully yourself and enjoy not being in such a small tub( he might even bribe Asmo so you can use his tub too)

"I always knew you were a treasure but babe this is something else ya know"

Leviathan

:o that's him when he sees your tail, You're a sea dweller like him!!!!

Not even really gonna wonder why you didn't tell him he just gonna make sure you haven't told anyone else

Guess what your new couple's activity is! It's swimming in his aquarium room him in his demon form and you in your merfolk from

Is now a hype man for you talking up how cool it is that you are really a merperson and how it's just like the anime my best friend turned out to be a mermaid!

Will not even think about telling his brothers this is his secret with you now no one else should know unless you want to tell them..

Please let him help clean your tail and fins he will do everything you (⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄

Satan

He walks out right away and it won't dawn on him at first that you're a merfolk until he's out of the room

Does tons of research on mermaids and merpeople in general

He's hyper-focused on it for a bit and honesty prefers if you want to tell the others because he can brag that you're all his

Teasing calls you catfish and lovingly calls you jellyfish don't ask why

Is really scared now of bringing you with him to play with cats or showing you the cats he brings in thanks to slightly fearing they may try to eat you

enjoys sitting in the tub with you while you stay in your full form even if you like the water cold if it means holding you like this he won't mind

" What a wonderful surprise my dear jellyfish if you ever want to go see the ocean just let me know it will be our vacation plans"

Asmodeus

At first, he was just happy to see enjoying your time and then he saw the tail

He so excited his partner the second most beautiful person in all the Devildom and the most beautiful human is actually a beautiful merfolk

Will not question it at all he understand why you might want to hide it and that Diavolo probably already knew so he's not worried

Asmo already called you many sweet nicknames but his new favorite is Angle fish

Now that he knows he becomes far more committed to helping you out with a beauty routine after all merpeople can't risk their fins and scales drying or being hurt

If you're okay with it he'll want to post about you in your true form mostly bragging about how amazing you are

" I didn't think you could be any more gorgeous yet here you are angle fish glimmering like a clear night star"

Beelzebub

His first thing after seeing you like this is to be worried you're in the heat so often are you ok?

Beel isn't really fazed by the fact you've been hiding this he's just happy you don't mind him knowing

Won't say a word to anyone unless you want him to but will ask if he can at least tell Belphie

He will go to the beach with you whenever you want and starts to take you with him to work out his gym has a huge swimming pool you can use

Really wants to know about food you like now did you enjoy fish or other types of seafood if so raw or cooked he'll plan a dinner for you

Beel will still call you cupcake but sometimes when he wants to tease you he calls you sushi and if anyone calls you that in a mocking way he will fight

" I've always like carrying you around but now I have even more reasons to"

Belphegor

Doesn't ever notice you have a tail he just wanted to know why you were in the bath for so long

Is both in awe and also doesn't care thanks to you he became ok with humans again and even though he knows you're not really one you clearly choose to live like you are

Is fine with keeping it a secret but will also be real smug if you tell people cause now people think your even cooler but your all his

He can sleep anywhere and thought he wont be in the tub with you he will hold your hand and rub your tail while he sits on the ground and naps

Doesn't like going to the beach much but if you really wanna go hell come with you just to see having fun

Will whole heartedly defend you and fight for you if someone finds out and picks on you or if any of his brothers bother you

" Who would've guessed that you would be such a magical person and to not just that but that even being who you are you still choose me"

Okay I hope that this was to your liking and thank you for reading! And a huge thank you to my best friend @bird-brained-plague-doctor for helping me with some of the ideas used!!!!

[bluejayblueskies]

in the reciprocal

Words: 8.3k

Relationships: Jon & Martin (QPR)

Tags: Season 1, Scottish Safehouse, Light Angst, Queerplatonic Relationships, Gray-Aro Martin, Kiss-Averse Jon, Kiss-Averse Martin

Warnings: internalized arophobia, mild external arophobia, mild internalized homophobia, canon-typical Lonely depression and dissociation, teasing someone about a crush (in a friendly manner), mention of canon character death, Martin briefly pretending like he still has romantic feelings for Jon and participating in a romantic relationship that makes him uncomfortable (this is addressed and resolved)

Ao3 link in source

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Martin’s relationship with romance has always been … complicated.

He has distinct memories of his early teenage years, when the major topic of conversation had shifted abruptly to who had a crush on who and who had kissed who after school and who had asked who on a date. Martin had never really participated in those conversations, though that could be owed more to the fact that he didn’t have many friends than that he wasn’t interested.

Because Martin was interested. The idea of romance had always intrigued him—a fairy-tale thing where there was somebody who would choose you and love you and never let you be alone ever again—and he wanted, more badly than he knew what to do with sometimes, to be in love.

The world, as Martin quickly learned, was not a fairy tale. No matter how much Martin tried to pretend otherwise. In fairy tales, when people got sick, they eventually got better. In fairy tales, parents always loved their children and showered them with affection. (Or were villainous and cruel, locking their children away in towers and treating them like objects to be discarded. Though Martin was never fond of those stories.) And in fairy tales, love was always easy. It wasn’t something that had to be learned or forced. It was instead like breathing—nearly effortless unless you thought about it too much—and, like breathing, it was something that everyone did.

So Martin couldn’t understand why he was so bad at it.

Just before he’d dropped out of school to work full time after his mother couldn’t anymore, he’d been asked on the first and only date of his entire life. Nino had been his friend for nearly a year and a half, and Martin loved spending time with him more than he loved most things in his life back then. School was growing more difficult as Martin had to take on a second part-time job, his mother was growing sicker and shorter with her temper, and he was quickly coming to the realization that he was … different.

After all, he’d never once felt the same kind of affection toward the girls whose names he attempted to doodle in the corners of his notebooks as he felt toward Nino.

Coming to terms with the fact that his first real crush was on his very lovely, very male best friend was … hard. But one day, Nino had bumped his shoulder against Martin’s as they sat in the library and had said something funny that Martin has long since forgotten, and he’d found himself smiling widely. His heart was a stuttering mess in his chest, his stomach twisted up into knots, and … things hadn’t been so bad, then.

Loving Nino had felt safe. Looking back, Martin is sure that Nino had been able to read all of Martin’s stutters and flushed cheeks and clumsy attempts at affection for what they were, but at the time, it had felt like a private indulgence. Just another way for Martin to spend time with the boy who was gradually becoming the most important person in his life. (Behind his mother, that is. She would always come first.)

What was funny about the whole situation, in a way that was actually not very funny at all, was that Martin was even considering asking Nino out. He liked to fantasize about what it would be like—creating clumsy scenarios in his mind where he would slip a note into Nino’s backpack before they parted ways or blurt it out on their way to the tube or whisper it quietly under his breath in the library so that nobody else could hear it but them. He imagined what it would be like if Nino said yes, his face lighting up with a smile and his hand reaching for Martin’s.

He tried to imagine what would happen after that—the date, the kissing (which he could never quite picture without grimacing and pushing the image quickly away), the hand-holding, the…

Well. He actually wasn’t quite sure what was meant to come after.

(Like breathing. It was supposed to be like breathing.)

It was funny, except it wasn’t. Because when Nino pulled Martin aside on their way home one day, face flushed slightly darker than normal, and hesitantly asked if Martin would like to go to a movie with him in a way that was very clearly meant to be a date, Martin expected to feel happy. He expected to feel relieved, that he hadn’t had to muster up the courage to ask Nino himself, or nervous, that he was finally going to be pursuing a romantic relationship with the boy he cared so much about.

Instead, he felt … stiff. Uncomfortable, like his skin was suddenly just a bit too tight. He felt the sudden urge to hide, or maybe to run, or to vanish into thin air so he didn’t have to be standing here anymore, now desperately trying to avoid the eyes of the boy who had just bared such a vulnerable part of himself to Martin.

Confused, Martin tried to look within himself for that warm, stammering affection that had been there a minute ago and found it transformed into something awkward and tense and devoid of all desire for romance. But that didn’t make any sense, he thought as he stared blankly at Nino, who was becoming increasingly nervous, shifting from foot to foot as his mouth pinched into a thin, anxious line. He remembered liking Nino. He remembered the fantasies, remembered coming up with a thousand scenarios just like this one, remembered stammering and stuttering and wanting so badly to take Nino’s hand in his own.

It was like remembering a story he’d been told. Just a fairy tale.

“You … can just say no,” Nino said finally, and Martin felt a curl of guilt in his stomach at the clear upset in Nino’s eyes. “If you have to think this long, it’s … probably not a yes. Is it.”

Yes, Martin tried to say. It’s a yes—of course it’s a yes, I’m just … surprised. Maybe things would make more sense if they actually went on a date. Maybe Martin would just … sort himself out. He was just surprised, or maybe in shock.

He loved Nino. He did; he knew he did. He just … had to figure out how to bring it back.

He didn’t get the chance. (Though, thinking back on it now, Martin knows that even if he’d tried, it wouldn’t have worked.) Nino pulled back slightly, hands going to the straps of his backpack self-consciously. “Right,” he said, sounding terribly embarrassed, and Martin felt himself mirroring the emotion. “S-sorry, I … I guess I was reading things wrong. I—I thought that you … never mind. It doesn’t matter.” Nino forced a smile then, and it lacked all the bright and shining things that Martin liked about it. “S-suppose I’ll … see you in school tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Martin managed to say. And then Nino was gone, and Martin walked home alone.

He dropped out a few months later. Nino said that he would call, but Martin has always been good at lying and even better at telling when somebody else is doing so. And Nino hadn’t been putting much effort into it.

That was … probably for the best. At least Martin didn’t have to feel that dizzying, sickening sensation of guilt and awkwardness every time he looked at Nino anymore.

So, there it was. The world was nothing like a fairy tale. His mother only ever got sicker, her affection for him only ever grew more a thing of the past, and love was…

Well, love clearly wasn’t for him.

That didn’t stop him from falling hopelessly, irrevocably, head-over-heels in love with Jonathan Sims.

.

.

.

Martin, as a rule, makes a habit of not talking about his love life. For one, because there is a distinct lack of it (a fact that he much prefers but doesn’t generally feel like explaining in detail). And for two, because Martin just knew it would turn into something like this.

Martin places his head in his hands to hide the flaming red of his cheeks. “Can we not talk about it?”

“I think we’re actually obligated to talk about it now,” Tim says with what Martin is absolutely certain is a cheeky grin. “Given that you’ve just admitted that your not-so-mysterious crush is Jonathan Sims.” He drops his voice to an exaggerated conspiratorial murmur. “Is he the one you’ve been writing poetry about then?”

“I don’t have to say anything,” Martin mumbles into the very clammy palms of his hand.

Tim, fortunately, drops the poetry topic. He unfortunately does not drop the crush topic. “I mean, don’t get me wrong,” he continues. “You’ve got good taste. The whole … sweater vest, ‘disgruntled professor’ vibe is attractive, and he’s funny, you know? In his own way.”

Martin lifts his head from his hands and gives Tim an exasperated look that he hopes screams can we please stop talking about this. Tim must misinterpret it as jealousy instead because he holds his hands up in the air placatingly. “Hey, no competition here. We’re just friends, and I’m not really interested in dating anyone at the moment.” A pause. “Though, I suppose if Jon asked, I wouldn’t say—you know what, that’s not helpful.”

“He is pretty hot,” Sasha pipes in from her spot on the break room couch. “I definitely get where you’re coming from.” Then, after Martin turns that same exasperated look onto her: “Just trying to show our support for the cause, Martin.”

“Yeah, well—don’t.” Martin stands, maybe a little bit too abruptly, and crosses the room to where the kettle sits on the counter. He fills it in the sink and then clicks it on, the blue light reflecting off the countertop and faintly illuminating his hands.

“Hey,” Tim says, leaning against the counter next to him and giving him a surprisingly serious look. “I’m sorry. If talking about this makes you uncomfortable, we’ll drop it.” He mimes zipping his lips closed and throwing away the key. “No questions asked.”

“I’m pretty sure talking afterward negates the ‘zipping your lips shut’ thing,” Martin says, which earns him an amused huff of laughter and a gentle elbow in the side. He finds himself smiling, if only briefly before it falls from his lips once again. “And it’s … fine. I’m not upset. It’s just…” He hesitates, considering, and settles on a suitably vague, “It’s complicated.”

Tim makes a noise of understanding. “Say no more, Marto. Consider the subject dropped.”

“Thank you.”

There are a few moments of silence between them, filled only with the gentle hum of the kettle. Martin reaches for the mugs, and as he pulls four from the cabinet, Tim says abruptly, “So wait—is that why you always bring him tea?”

Martin nearly drops the mugs. “Tim.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Tim grimaces at him sheepishly. “I’m dropping it.”

Martin nods and pulls the box of tea from the cupboard. As he gets the mugs ready, however, he can feel Tim’s eyes on him, heavy and curious. Finally, it gets to be too much, and Martin sets the box down with a sigh. “I bring him tea because he never leaves his office and at least this way he’s hydrated. If you absolutely must know.”

“Caffeine is a diuretic, you know,” Sasha says from where she’s still sitting on the couch.

“Yes,” Martin says tersely, grabbing the kettle as it clicks off, “but it’s better than nothing.”

The tea isn’t related to the crush. It really isn’t. But Martin knows that the more he tries to make excuses, the more it’ll seem like he’s deflecting, which will just be counterproductive. So he prepares the tea and passes Tim and Sasha’s mugs to them. Then, fully aware that Tim and Sasha are watching, he grabs Jon’s mug and makes his way to his office.

He doesn’t knock. He found out his first week here that Jon doesn’t like it when people knock and prefers them to verbally announce themselves instead. It wasn’t because Jon had told him; Martin gets the feeling that Jon is too stubborn to admit to that sort of weakness in front of him. It was because of the subtle tension in Jon’s shoulders every time Martin opened the door after rapping three times on the doorframe; the way his voice sounded ever so slightly pinched when he asked what Martin wanted.

So Martin says, just loud enough to penetrate the thick oak door, that he’s coming in, and then, after a moment, he opens it.

Jon is sitting at his desk, mountains of papers and files stacked on either side of him. His laptop is open in front of him, and he’s currently focused intently on something on the screen, the harsh white light of the LCDs reflecting off his glasses. He doesn’t seem to notice when the door opens, but when Martin takes a few steps closer and gently clears his throat, he looks up from the screen, blinking a few times as his eyes adjust to the dimness of his office.

“Ah,” Jon says, his gaze landing on the mug. “Right. You can…” He looks at the disastrously cluttered surface of his desk and, after some consideration, pushes a stack of papers to the side to make a mug-sized gap in the mess. “You can place it there.”

Martin does. He doesn’t mean to linger afterward. Even though things are ... better between them now that Martin is staying in the Archives and Jon seems to have softened slightly toward him, they’re not quite at the ‘hold a casual conversation’ stage of their relationship yet. Still, Martin finds himself standing in front of Jon’s desk long enough for Jon to glance back up from his computer, a small furrow forming between his eyebrows.

“Did you … need something else from me?” he says, sounding more confused than annoyed.

No, Martin means to say. I’ll be going now.

Instead, he says, “How are you doing?”

Jon stares blankly at Martin, like he doesn’t understand the question. Martin briefly curses his complete lack of a verbal filter at the worst times and purses his lips, telling himself that frantically trying to rescind the statement will only make things worse. “I’m … fine,” Jon says with a hint of incredulity in his voice, like he can’t fathom any reason why Martin would want to inquire after his well-being.

Good, Martin opens his mouth to say. Let me know if you need anything else.

Why he says instead, “I just … noticed that you haven’t been going home lately,” he doesn’t know. He hasn’t had a crush in so long—is this what it was like the last time? God, it’s a bit embarrassing, isn’t it?

Jon still looks bewildered, though there is an edge of irritation to his voice when he says, “There is a lot to do here, Martin. I assure you, I can take care of myself.”

“Right, yeah.” Martin fights the urge to rub his hand along the back of his neck, settling for the inside of his wrist instead. “Just … I know I’ve taken your cot recently, and if you’re not going home at night, I—I would hate to feel like I’m making you sleep at your desk.”

“You are not making me do anything. I can make my own choices.” Jon purses his lips for a moment before saying, more gently, “Besides, you … have more need of the cot than me at the moment.”

Martin can’t help the little shudder that goes through him at the reminder of why, exactly, he is in need of the cot. “Yeah,” he concedes. Then, because it’s only been a week or so and he still feels like he hasn’t said it enough: “Thank you again, for … for letting me stay here.”

Jon’s expression softens into something almost sympathetic, just for a moment, before growing closed-off and shuttered once again. Martin’s traitorous heart thuds in his chest at the sight, just like it had when Jon had listened to his story impassively and then matter-of-factly offered him the cot like it was the only logical thing to do.

(He hadn’t understood why he’d reacted like that—pounding heart, sweaty palms, cottony mouth—until that night, staring at the dark, cracked ceiling of the Archives and running Jon’s words over and over again in his mind. But it wasn’t surprising, was it? Of course Martin would find himself attached to his prickly, no-nonsense boss who kind of hated him the first moment he showed him an ounce of kindness.)

“It’s … really no problem at all,” Jon says, sounding a bit stiff in a way that’s hopelessly endearing, like he doesn’t quite know what to do with Martin’s gratitude. Then, even more stiffly: “You’re … doing all right?”

The tentative concern in Jon’s voice is enough to bring a flush to the tips of Martin’s cheeks that he desperately hopes can’t be seen in the low light of Jon’s office. “Y-yeah. As well as I can be, I—I suppose.”

“Well,” Jon says in a businesslike voice, like he’s delivering a report, “if you need any further accommodations, please let me know. Given that this was a workplace incident and you were investigating the Vittery building on my request, the Institute and I are responsible for ensuring that you remain safe while you’re … displaced from your previous home.”

Martin has always been good at reading people. And for all that Jon wears various masks of professionalism and skepticism and authority, he’s still surprisingly easy to read. It’s easy to control an expression, to control a tone of voice, but Jon’s eyes are always so much more emotive than he probably means them to be. Right now, they’re flitting around the room, from Martin to the floor to his desk to the floor again, like they’re afraid to settle on one place for too long.

It’s easy to identify the emotion as guilt. It takes Martin a few more moments to place what, exactly, Jon is guilty for.

“It’s … not your fault, you know,” Martin says slowly. “What happened with Prentiss. You’re not … responsible for it.”

Martin expects Jon to brush him off—to tell him that he’s being ridiculous. He doesn’t expect him to say, with a voice that leaves no room for argument, “I am not responsible for Jane Prentiss’ presence in the Vittery building, yes, nor for the fact that she followed you home. But I would be remiss not to acknowledge that you encountered her while following up on a statement, per my request, and that I … was not as cautious as I should have been with regards to sending you on dangerous assignments.” Jon’s eyes are sheepish now, and a touch concerned. “I will be sure to take the appropriate precautions in the future, as it would be unacceptable for you to be injured or … otherwise hurt whilst performing your duties as an archival assistant.”

It’s not a heartfelt statement by any measure. Really, it’s just common decency, and definitely what should be expected from one’s superior in a line of work that is (apparently) much more dangerous than it appears to be on paper. But Jon’s eyes when they finally turn to Martin are softer than he’s ever seen them, even as his expression remains carefully neutral and professional, and it feels like Jon has just said something profoundly kind.

Martin’s heart has some stuttering, skipping things to say about that particular fact.

“Um,” Martin says eloquently. “Th-thanks.” He considers mentioning again that Jon really isn’t at fault for sending him into a building that, for all Jon knew, contained nothing more than a few very persistent spiders. But he doesn’t. Instead, he holds the little scrap of kindness he’s been given close to his chest, stammers something about getting back to work, and leaves Jon’s office before he says something embarrassing like I like it when you care or you have kind eyes or we could share the cot if you stay too late.

Tim wiggles his eyebrows at Martin as he takes a seat back at his desk, and Sasha gives him a much more subtle knowing look. Martin ignores both of them and busies himself with the statement sitting on the corner of his desk, diving back into the formatting he’s been struggling with all morning.

Jon is his boss. Jon doesn’t even really like him, when he’s not feeling guilty for almost getting Martin killed. It’s never going to work between them.

A bit of the tension bleeds out of Martin’s shoulders. His eyes drift back toward the door to Jon’s office—the golden nameplate outside it, embossed with Jon’s name, the frosted window, the old, warped wood—and he feels something light and comfortable settle in his chest.

Jon is prickly and lovely and blunt and awkwardly conscientious and completely unattainable. Jon is never going to look at Martin with affection in his eyes and ask Martin to run away with him to pursue a romantic, fairy-tale ending, and Martin is never going to feel that intense, awful discomfort that seeps into the gaps where the love once was. He can blush and stammer and imagine holding Jon’s hand and kissing the inside of his wrist and tangling his foot with Jon’s underneath a table, and nothing will change.

It’s never going to happen between them. And it’s better that way.

.

.

.

The car ride to Scotland is quiet. Jon keeps sneaking glances at Martin when he thinks Martin isn’t paying attention, as if Martin will vanish if he doesn’t keep a watchful eye on him. It should be irritating, but … maybe he’s right. Martin doesn’t feel fully here yet. He still feels empty and numb, like all of the emotion and life and things that make him him have been cut away, consumed by the salty fog that had filled his lungs and stung his throat as he inhaled.

Peter Lukas is dead. Martin had felt it happen with a sort of empty detachment—the ripples of fog as Peter disintegrated into nothing but mist and static. Jon hasn’t spoken about it since they left the Lonely, but Martin had seen the tension in his shoulders as they’d returned to their flats to pack and taken the keys to the car from Basira and made their way painstakingly through London traffic.

Martin had wanted to tell Jon that it was all right—that everything was going to be okay. But his throat refused to form the words. It took all of his energy to remain present and solid, and he just … couldn’t. So he remained silent and gripped Jon’s hand as tightly as he was able and focused on not giving in to the Loneliness that still lingered underneath the surface of his skin.

Now, both of Jon’s hands are on the wheel of the car, his fingers and elbows rigid and stiff. Generic pop music spills out of the radio, the signal distorted enough that Martin only catches about half of the song, the rest swallowed by static. Better than him, he thinks absently. Right now, he feels as if he’s only static.

He can’t remember if he was like this before the air opened wide in front of him and he was swallowed whole by the fog, the panopticon gone in an instant and replaced with nothing but endless gray. He was … close, he thinks. Every day, things grew dimmer, his own thoughts and feelings more difficult to get a handle on. It grew harder and harder to remember why he was resisting at all. What his goal was, other than to just … be alone. He thinks he would have forgotten entirely, had Jon not been three floors beneath him, alive and breathing and reminding him that he was doing this—all of this—for a reason.

It had been … lovelier than Martin ever could have imagined, falling in love with Jon. It grew within him like a garden, new flowers cropping up every day. Some were white and delicate, blooming in his lungs when he looked at Jon and felt the all-consuming need to bundle him up in a blanket and make him tea and hide him away from the things in the world that wanted to hurt him. Others were purple and angular, blossoming with every lunch they had together and story Jon told him. And some were red and thorny, roses with waxy petals that made Martin’s cheeks grow hot every time Jon said his name like it was special or treated him kindly or smiled.

So when things grew difficult—when the loneliness crept too close, when he grew too comfortable being invisible, when he had to look Jon in the eye and tell him that he didn’t want to see him—Martin retreated to the quiet garden in his soul. He ran his fingers along the petals and stems and leaves and reminded himself that he needed to do this, or he’d lose Jon again and the garden would shrivel and die.

It had been an easy decision, in the end.

There’s a soft crunching noise, and Martin breaks free from his thoughts to see that they’ve transitioned from the smooth asphalt of the motorway to an unpaved gravel road. It’s bracketed on either side by trees, and though the sun has long since set, Martin can still see the gentle swell of hills around them, outlined softly in the moonlight. He thinks, for a moment, that he sees fog, clustering around the bases of the hills and swirling around in tight eddies, but when he blinks, the image is gone.

“We’re almost there,” Jon says quietly. It’s one of the few things he’s said to Martin the entire trip. Then, after a moment: “It’s … rather nice out here.”

Martin supposes it is. The landscape around them had been a vibrant green before twilight had washed it out into deep blues, and there have been cows dotted around the fields, shaggy and brown and grazing contently. It’s a stark change from the grays and browns of central London, with buildings on all sides and people everywhere and no chance to ever really see the stars. If circumstances were different, Martin thinks he would be cooing over the cows and trying to get Jon to stop so he could take pictures and enjoying his first trip outside of England.

Instead, Martin just nods.

Jon seems to understand. He sneaks another glance at Martin—full of something soft that Martin, in his foggy state, doesn’t quite know how to parse—but remains silent for the rest of the trip. It could easily be a stiff, uncomfortable silence, but … it’s not. It feels companionable.

When did being around Jon become so easy?

Daisy’s cabin is small and squat, nestled between two hills and idyllic in a way that doesn’t match the rough-hewn, steel-eyed woman Martin had known. The inside is dusty and cold, and Jon mutters something about central heating before disappearing down the corridor and leaving Martin standing in the living room, staring at the place he’ll be living in for the foreseeable future.

The place he’ll be living in with Jon for the foreseeable future.

Martin feels something in his chest stir at that—a strange, twisting emotion that’s there and gone before he can put a name to it. He shivers, in a way he doesn’t think is from the cold, and goes to find Jon.

He … doesn’t think he should be alone right now.

They find an old, rusted radiator that miraculously still works, pumping out hot air with a groan of metal. Jon digs a set of musty sheets out of the linen closet and begins dressing the bed. Martin notes the lack of a second bedroom, and he thinks he might object to the implication that they’ll be sharing a bed if he weren’t aware of the fact that he might vanish if left alone for too long. (Or if he were himself enough to feel embarrassed. Or to feel anything.)

He doesn’t think anything shows on his face, but Jon’s always been keen, even more so now that knowledge drips into his mind like water from a leaky faucet. Jon’s hands flutter over the sheets for a moment before he says, “I … hope this is all right?”

Martin tries to find his voice to agree, but the energy required to summon it is too much, so he settles for a shallow nod. He doesn’t think it’s a sufficiently enthusiastic agreement, but Jon doesn’t question it. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment, then says, “And … you’re all right?”

It’s a bit of a ridiculous question, really. No, Martin isn’t all right. No, there’s nothing Jon can do about it. No, he doesn’t know when things will be better. Or if they’ll ever be better.

Martin just looks at Jon, eyebrows slightly raised. Jon lets out a small, dry laugh. “Right. I … suppose that was a silly question. I—I meant…” Jon hems and haws for a long moment before finally saying, “Do you feel … safe, here? W-with me?”

That question has a much easier answer.

When Martin nods without hesitation, Jon visibly relaxes. “Good,” he says, voice rough around the edges. “That’s … that’s good.”

They stand there for a moment longer, the silence between them thick and heavy but not uncomfortably so. Finally, Jon clears his throat and says, “Well, I—I suppose we should rest then. We can … talk tomorrow?”

Martin nods and tries to smile. He doesn’t quite manage it, but … that’s all right. For now, this is enough.

Jon retreats into the bathroom, and Martin finds himself overcome with exhaustion. He slips into the soft pajama trousers he’d absently stuffed into his duffle bag, climbs under the covers, and is asleep before the sound of running water from the other room abates.

.

.

.

Martin doesn’t remember what happened in the Lonely. Things had been foggy and disjointed, slipping through his grasp when he tried to hold onto them. He barely remembers what came after, when Jon had led him away from the sand and the fog and the waves, his palm a searing heat against Martin’s. His first few days at the safehouse are spent in a similar fog, like each muscle in his body is frozen solid and he’s slowly attempting to warm them with a matchstick flame.

His third day is … better. His fourth, better still. By the end of the first week, Martin feels more himself than he has in months, if still acutely aware of the fog that now lives in his lungs and creeps out of his throat when he thinks too hard about what’s transpired or when Jon is out of sight for too long.

Martin remembers what it’s like to be happy. He feels it when he shuffles sleepily into the kitchen on their eigth morning in the safehouse and sees Jon standing in front of the stove, hair tied up in a neat bun and eggs sizzling in a pan in front of him. He remembers what it’s like to be frightened. He feels it when he wakes at night, shivering and shaking with the lingering memory of dreams of nothing but endless fog and aching loneliness.

And he remembers what it’s like to be in love.

He remembers it just in time to lose it.

The worst thing, Martin thinks, is that he’d almost managed to convince himself that it would be different this time. He knows, logically, that it’s not that simple. He’d done a little bit of research after what happened with Nino, reading through a few web pages on aromanticism before becoming overwhelmed and closing out of every single one of them. He tentatively returned to them a few years later after realizing that this wasn’t something that he was going to grow out of or move on from.

He had difficulties settling on a label, partly because of the sheer number of them and partly because he … didn’t quite know how to categorize his feelings. How could he categorize something that he’d only felt once before? Gray-romantic seemed the safest option, so that was the one he settled on.

(Not that he ever told anyone that he was arospec. It never seemed important, even when Sasha would needle him about his crush and Tim would make too-loud suggestive comments that could surely be heard through the door to Jon’s office.

… Martin misses Tim and Sasha. He thinks, if he’d had the chance—if he’d had more time—they would have been the first people he told.)

Martin knows that his relationship with romantic attraction is complicated. Yet somehow, he’s still found it within himself to hope that this time, things will be different. This time, when he tells Jon that he’s very in love with him and has been for a while, those words will continue to be true even after they’re spoken. (He ignores the fact that the actual thought of saying them aloud makes his stomach twist and his mouth grow chalky.)

But, just like with Nino, Martin doesn’t get the chance to try. Jon beats him to the punch.

“I … I love you,” Jon says quietly. He has Martin’s hand in his, and he’s holding it so gently Martin might cry. There were things Jon said before this moment—a conversation that has led them here—but Martin is having a hard time recalling any of them. All he can think is no, no, not now, not here.

His skin crawls. His hands are clammy, and he’s sure that Jon can feel it. He has the instinctive need to get away, but he’s also frozen in place, the lump in his throat sealing away all of the words that he should be saying.

He should be saying something.

The silence stretches on between them, the vulnerability on Jon’s face slowly morphing into concern. “... Martin?”

He sounds so confused, and Martin … he can’t. He just can’t. He doesn’t think he’ll survive the moment when that confusion turns to hurt.

So Martin swallows sharply and forces his hand to squeeze Jon’s and says, “I love you too.”

And he does, in a way. He wants Jon here, by his side, eating breakfast next to him and rambling to him about whatever latest thing has piqued his interest and listening to Martin describe the cows he’s seen on his walks. The thought of Jon leaving—of losing him, the same way he lost Nino—makes his stomach twist into knots, because Martin loves him.

Just … not in the way that Jon thinks he does. Not anymore.

And Martin can’t help but feel guilty about that fact.

Jon frowns at Martin for a moment more, like he can tell that something’s wrong but he’s not entirely sure what. Martin breathes out slowly and gives Jon as genuine a smile as he can muster, trying to convey that everything is fine. That nothing’s wrong—why would anything be wrong?

It must work, because Jon exhales slowly, his expression softening into one of the gentle smiles that Martin has grown so fond of. He rubs a thumb over the back of Martin’s hand in a motion that should be comforting but only reminds Martin of the fact that Jon is doing it because he loves him.

Martin thinks that Jon is going to kiss him then—isn’t that usually what comes after things like this?—and dread coils in his stomach. But Jon doesn’t. Later, Martin will find out that Jon dislikes kisses just as much as he does (though for different reasons). For now, though, Martin can only feel relief when Jon squeezes his hand once more before letting go and standing. “I’ll go make us some tea,” he says quietly, then retreats to the kitchen.

Thinking back on it, Martin wonders if Jon knew then. That something was wrong. But for now, he just feels relieved that he has the space he needs to breathe.

.

.

.

It’s their second week at the safehouse, just a few days after Jon told Martin that he loves him, that Jon finally sits Martin down after dinner and says softly, “Martin, am I … am I making you uncomfortable?”

“What?” Martin says, like he has no idea what Jon’s talking about. (Like a liar.) “No. What … what makes you think that?”

Jon wrings his hands together. He’s wearing one of Martin’s sweaters, and Martin doesn’t know how he feels about it. The clothes sharing is fine. The fact that Jon is clearly perceiving the clothes sharing as a romantic gesture is … less than fine.

Martin told himself that it would be okay if Jon perceived their relationship as a romantic one and Martin didn’t. He was good at pretending. And besides, how different could things be?

Very different, as it turned out. In all the ways that mattered.

Jon seemed to take any opportunity he could to touch Martin—a hand brushing against the small of his back when he passed behind him to grab a mug, an ankle nudging against his underneath the table as they ate, a head resting on his shoulder as they sat side-by-side and read. Martin had never been particularly touch-averse or touch-starved; touch was just … touch. He’d liked it when Tim had tousled his hair or when Sasha had thrown her legs across his on the breakroom couch, but he didn’t feel like he was missing out on anything on the days he went without any human contact at all.

Now, it’s all Martin can do not to flinch away from Jon’s touches, knowing that each one is delivered with love and affection that Martin can’t return. Though perhaps he hasn’t been doing as good of a job as he’d thought, judging by the concerned look Jon is giving him now.

There have been other things too—whispered I love yous in the early mornings and soft smiles that seem somehow more and little gestures that are so Jon but also so romantic—and Martin wants so badly to disappear back into the fog in those moments. But that … that wouldn’t be fair to Jon. It’s not his fault that Martin is like this, after all.

(It’s not Martin’s fault either. He knows this, logically. He’d spent a long time hating himself for what happened with Nino, for how he couldn’t just be normal and go on dates and enjoy something that the rest of society seemed to prize above all else. It had taken him years to finally come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t broken, and he couldn’t be changed. That this was just … who he was.

It doesn’t mean that sometimes, he doesn’t wish that he could be someone else. And he’s never wanted it more acutely than when he stares at Jon’s kind brown eyes and soft smile.)

So Martin lied and lied and lied. And he thought he’d been doing so successfully. But here Jon is, frowning at him, a careful distance between them, and Martin feels his chest begin to tighten.

“I just…” Jon begins, then stops. He looks down at the couch, studying the ugly floral pattern with apparent rapt fascination. Martin doesn’t know what to say, so he waits anxiously until Jon finally continues, “It doesn’t feel like you’re … happy. I know that things have been hard, a-and … it’s all right if you still need time after the Lonely, but it…” Jon swallows. “It feels like some of it may be because of me? W-when I touch you, sometimes you get … tense. And sometimes…”

“Jon?” Martin prompts after a moment, the word strangled by the growing lump in his throat.

“Sometimes,” Jon says quietly, “when you tell me that you love me, it … it feels like you’re lying.”

And the way Jon says it—tentative, with wide, hesitant eyes, like he’s the one that’s the problem—makes Martin’s desire to keep up the ruse crumble away in an instant.

It still isn’t easy to come clean. But he forces himself to do it anyway.

“It’s complicated,” he begins, then winces. Not a good start. Sure enough, Jon’s shoulders grow tense, and he shifts slightly further away, like he thinks Martin wants more space. Because he thinks he’s done something wrong. “You haven’t done anything wrong,” Martin adds quickly. It’s not you, it’s me, he thinks wryly. “It’s … not your fault.”

Jon opens his mouth—to say what, Martin doesn’t know. He barrels on before Jon gets the chance to speak, his haste making his words harried and blunt.

“I’m aromantic.”

Jon blinks at him, clearly surprised by the abruptness of the statement. After a long, awkward moment, during which it becomes abundantly clear that Jon is waiting for Martin to make the next move, Martin continues, “My relationship with—well, with relationships—i-is complicated. I-it’s, um … it’s hard to explain? A-and I don’t want you to think that I—I don’t care about you. I want to be here, w-with you, just…”

“Not in a romantic capacity?” Jon finishes softly.

Martin exhales heavily, feeling a bit like a hole has been punched in his chest and he’s slowly deflating. “Yeah.”

Jon is looking at him with soft, kind eyes, and Martin doesn’t know what to do with them. So he buries his face in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice coming out muffled.

“Hey, hey.” Jon’s hand brushes against Martin’s shoulder before pulling away quickly, and that just makes Martin feel worse. “You haven’t done anything wrong either.”

“Yes, I have,” Martin says into his palms. “I lied. I let you think that I—I was still in love with you, and … Christ, that was shitty of me.”

“I … do wish you had told me sooner,” Jon concedes. “But … only because I care about you, Martin, a-and I don’t want you to be uncomfortable around me.” He hesitates. “You … do know that I’m not mad at you, right? Th-that I wouldn’t have been mad, o-or upset, or hurt, if you told me that you didn’t feel the same way about me?”

Martin takes a deep breath, then another. “But I did,” he says raggedly. “For … for so long, I did. Ever since Jane Prentiss locked me in my flat for two weeks and you believed me when I told you about it a-and let me stay in the Archives. A-and I didn’t lie, in the Lonely. I did love you, a-all the way up until…”

Martin trails off. Jon lets the silence linger for a moment before saying gently, “If you don’t want to explain it to me, o-or if it’s hard, you don’t have to. But … if you can, I’d like to understand. For myself, a-and for you.” He wraps his hands tightly around his knees where they’re tucked against his chest. “This is important, and … I want to get this right.”

Martin exhales. He picks at a loose thread on the couch between them, focusing on it so he doesn’t have to meet Jon’s eyes and can pretend like he isn’t so extremely exposed and vulnerable right now. “I … I do want to explain. O-or I want to try. It’s … hard, though. Mostly b-because I’ve never had to explain it to anybody else? But also because … I don’t really understand why I’m like this.”

Jon opens his mouth, and Martin holds up a hand. “I know, I know—you don’t … have to comment on that.”

Jon closes his mouth and tentatively shifts so his knee is pressing against Martin’s. Martin waits for the tingling of his skin, the pins-and-needles discomfort, but it never comes. Maybe it’s because he knows that this is an act of comfort rather than one of affection. It’s … really nice.

He presses back with a sigh, feeling a bit of the tension and nerves drain out of him. “I—I get that love is difficult for me,” he says quietly. “I’ve just … always had trouble with the fact that what makes it difficult is that I’m someone who apparently never actually wants their love … requited. And if it is, I just … can’t anymore. It all goes away, a-and I just … fall out of love?”

Martin can feel Jon’s eyes on him, inquisitive and searching, but Jon doesn’t say anything. There’s a moment of silence between them, during which Martin tries and fails to collect his mess of feelings and thoughts and emotions into something that he can verbalize. Finally, Martin sighs and says, “It’s ironic, isn’t it. I’ve loved you for so long, a-and I still do, but … not in the way you love me. Not anymore. And now you’re the one who—who loves someone w-who doesn’t … who can’t…”

“Oh, no, Martin.” Jon’s hand is covering his then, and it’s warm and gentle and lovely, and Martin could cry. “I’m not…” He hesitates, squeezing Martin’s hand once. “Well. I am still in love with you. In the … romantic sense. I—I don’t want to lie to you about that. B-but I also love you in … so many other ways. Y-you’re my friend, Martin, a-and you’re someone that I can trust. You … you make me feel safe, e-even when there’s … so much in my life that’s dangerous and unpredictable, and I know that you’ll … always be there for me when I need you to be. I want to be here with you, always. I would … be happy in a romantic relationship with you, yes. But I would also be happy to just be with you. In whichever way you will have me.”

Martin’s throat feels very tight. “Oh,” he says faintly. He feels a pressure at the corner of his eyes and realizes, with a flush of embarrassment, that there are actual tears collecting there. He stares hard at the lamp just behind Jon, trying not to let any of them escape.”You, um … you really … mean that?”

“Of course,” Jon says, like there’s no question to be had about the matter. “You are … such an easy person to love, Martin. In all the ways it’s possible to love someone.”

Martin tries—he really does—to keep the tears back. But it’s just … so much, and Jon is so lovely, and this is more than Martin ever thought he was going to be able to have. So he takes a shaky breath in, and on the exhale, a few tears slip free and trail down his cheek. He brings a hand up and scrubs them away, mutters a sorry underneath his breath, but Jon just squeezes his hand tighter.

“It’s okay,” he says. “It’s okay, I’m … I’m here. I’m not leaving you.” Jon hesitates. “Provided that that’s … all right with you, of course.”

Martin can’t help the shaky laugh that escapes him. “Yes, it’s all right with me. Of course it is.”

Jon smiles, and Martin aches with it. “Good.” He nudges his knee gently against Martin’s. “Because this cottage would get very dull without you in it. Who would I talk to about all of Daisy’s awful romance novels?”

Martin laughs again, and it chases away most of the lingering tension in his body. “Be careful what you wish for. I’m going to start doing dramatic readings next.”

Jon’s eyes sparkle with humor, but his voice is sincere when he says, “I look forward to it.”

True to his word, over the next week, Martin does increasingly dramatic readings of the worn, water-warped romance novels stacked haphazardly on the safehouse shelves. (Skipping the, quote, ‘unnecessarily erotic’ bits to avoid Jon’s pinched look of discomfort and his own beet-red face as he stares down at words that should really not be used in a sexual context ever.) He bakes cookies, laughing when Jon drops the cup of flour he’s holding and ends up covered in it. He spends the first three walks after their conversation wringing his hands together before finally asking, in a series of nervous stutters, if Jon would like to hold hands while they walk.

“But not in a romantic way!” he hastens to clarify. “You just have very nice hands, a-and I’ve always liked the idea of holding someone else’s hand, but—you know, th-the romantic connotations of it aren’t … great, and … you know, now that I think about it, this was a stupid question, you don’t have to—”

And then Jon takes his hand and squeezes it gently, and Martin feels a warmth spread through him that he doesn’t quite know what to do with.

That’s been happening a lot lately. He … doesn’t think he minds at all.

Then, a few weeks after their conversation, Jon turns over in bed to face him and says, without any preamble, “Have you ever heard of a queerplatonic relationship?”

Martin has, but only in passing, so he shakes his head. Jon explains, sounding very much like he’s reciting the wiki page for the concept, which is … more endearing than it has any right to be, probably.

“Does … does that sound like something you might be interested in?” Jon says nervously. “W-with me, of course. If that wasn’t … clear.”

Martin nods before Jon is finished speaking. “Yeah,” he says, maybe a bit too eagerly. Then, quieter: “Yeah. I’d … I’d like that.”

Jon smiles then, bright and wide and lovely, and it occurs to Martin—not for the first time, and probably not for the last—that he can have this. That he can be with Jon—maybe for the rest of his life, though that’s a … big thought that he definitely isn’t ready to look at head-on yet—without the dates and the kissing and all the other romantic gestures that Martin always thought were necessary for something like this. That they can be happy, together.

That Martin can have his fairy tale ending, and it doesn’t have to look like he’s always been told it should.

Martin smiles back at Jon, reaching across the bed to brush his fingers lightly against Jon’s. And for the first time in a long, long while, he finally feels like he’s home.

[honeybunnybeez]

If you want to you could write some C! Dream being soft around reader?

Secluded Cabin's and Gentle Touches

♡Pairing: Dream x GN!Reader (with hints of platonic!GN!reader x Tommy and Tubbo)

♡Genre: Fluff

♡Format: Fanfiction

♡Summary: It's not uncommon for Tommy and Tubbo to bring people over to your place so you can help calm them down after a prank, but today they seemed to drag by a familiar face that you have yet to properly spend time with. Lucky for you, he seems to be longing to talk to you as well.

♡Au Setting: Au where the war never happens but tensions are still high.

"Get back here!"

Despite the voice ordering them to stop, Tommy and Tubbo continued to run like their lives depended on it, and to be fair, it kinda did in this situation. Wet hands stained in different coloured dyes served as proof of their crimes and a green hooded man wearing an awfully smudged looking mask makes it clear who their latest prank victim was.

"What were we fucking thinking!?" but a laugh at the end of his yelling as he dodges Dream's outstretched hand makes it clear that Tommy doesn't regret his life choices at all.

"I don't know!" Tubbo on the otherhand, was starting to regret his involvement in the prank. His legs were starting to ache and his chest began to burn as he slowly became exhausted. A wild chase like this isn't exactly new to them but Dream's persistence really makes it hard for a person to catch a breather between runs. "Tommy, where are we even going!?"

Tommy opened his mouth to respond but a trail of scattered lanterns and torches answers Tubbo's question for him. Tubbo lets out a knowing, "ooooh!" And uses whatever remaining energy he can to keep up with Tommy, knowing exactly what his friend had in mind.

In the distance, they can see you sitting on your porch, playing with a parrot you had managed to tame while out searching for cocoa beans. Relief washes over them when you lock eyes with them and start jogging over with your bird in tow, a worried expression evident on your face.

They're quick to hide behind you when they get close enough, clutching the back of your shirt while trying to catch their breaths to answer your questions as to who they were running from this time and why.

"Dream-" is all Tommy can manage to wheeze out before he's coughing up a lung and swearing again.

"Ah," honestly, after knowing the pair for a good few years now, just mentioning a name gives you a pretty good idea of the type of prank they pulled and the danger they could be in. Thankfully, Dream wasn't a major threat, to you at least.

"Alright, alright, go hide in the house quickly and don't come out until I tell you guys to. If I die, make sure to take care of the farm animals and bees for me."

"Bless you, (y/n)."

"Your sacrifices won't be in vain, we promise!"

You give them a joking salute and urge them to go inside quickly, informing them that you can hear Dream approaching closer. Once the boys were safely inside, you tried your best to look as natural as possible with the limited time you had to adjust yourself. When Dream arrives, you can see that he's just as tired as the boys are thanks to the chase, though his stance continues to be tense as he frantically looks around for them, fists clenched tight until his knuckles turned ghost white.

"Fuck, where did they run off to?"

"Not gonna give a stranger a kind hello after walking onto their lawn with murderous intent?" You and Dream weren't really strangers per say, you had to meet up with him when you moved into the server after all, but due to conflicting schedules and how often Tommy and Tubbo dragged you away whenever he tried to make conversation, you two didn't know each other all that well. That doesn't mean that you didn't want to try though.

When Dream realizes where he was and who he was talking, he's quick to adjust his mask and hoodie to make himself look somewhat... presentable, as presentable as he can look with sweat marks and a messed up mask at least.

'Why did those two have to run up to your house out of all places,' Dream mentally whines to himself, clearing his throat and giving you a single awkward wave as he walks up to you.

"Hey, (y/n). I didn't know you lived in this part of the server," that was a lie. Dream did know where you live, he knew where everyone did but it would be a little creepy to just put that information out there, wouldn't it?

"It'd be a little weird if I just started screaming out my address to random people on the streets, wouldn't it?" You try to joke, earning a little laugh from Dream.

"Okay, yeah, you got me there."

You pat an empty spot beside you on your porch step, inviting Dream over for a bit of rest and he accepts your offer gratefully, practically slumping beside you as he suddenly feels just how tired he is.

"Love the new look you gave your mask by the way," Dream groans at your teasing and pulls at his hoodie strings, hoping to cover his whole mask with his hood. He's glad you can't see his face right now because he can feel his cheeks practically burning at the fact that when he finally gets a chance to talk and get close to you it's when he's a sweating tired mess who looks like a wreck at best.

"I'm going to kill those two when I find them," he mumbles under his breath.

The slam that follows within your home could not have been more terribly timed.

"What was that?"

"Must be my wolves," you lied through your teeth, knowing damn well that your actual wolves were sleeping in your bedroom, "they learned how to open doors recently, I think they're messing around at the moment."

While he's distracted, staring at your window to check what's going on inside of your home, you're quick to read through your most recent private messages on your communicator.

Tommy: HE'S HERE!

Tommy: (Y/N), WHY AREN'T YOU TELLING HIM TO FUCK OFF!?

Tommy: Fuck this, we're hiding in the kitchen.

Tubbo: We're making a run for it through the back.

Tommy: We'll hide in your barn like runaway children.

Tubbo: Isn't that what we technically are right now?

Tommy: (y/n), we're making a fucking run for it if you don't answer us in 3 seconds.

Tommy: 3!

Tommy: 2!

Tubbo: We'RE OUT! I REPEAT, WE'RE OUT!

"Yup," you pop your P a little at the end, annoyed yet amused at the string of frantic messages still continuing to pop up on your communicator as they make their escape, "definitely my wolves causing all of that chaos."

Dream knows that you're lying from the way you read through your messages but he doesn't say a word about it, choosing instead to take this golden opportunity to get closer to you without worrying about anyone getting in the way.

"Not really how you thought the day would go, huh?"

You can't help but laugh and shake your head, "Not at all, I thought it was just going to be another boring day with my bird, but hey, I'm glad you showed up to make it a little more special."

"Really?" Dream hates how happy he sounds to hear you say that, but he'll beat himself up over it another time.

"It's not everyday you see Mr. WasTaken himself visiting your humble home, now is it?" Oh, or maybe he won't.

"I guess not, that really should change, shouldn't it?" You can hear the little grin in his voice as he realizes the game your playing.

"It really should, but a quick heads up would be good, unless you'd like to deal with said 'wolves' I mentioned earlier."

He chuckles and shakes his head, mentioning how he's more than aware that those two 'wolves' of yours would probably rip him apart if he ever visited you unannounced.

It isn't long before you invite Dream inside, offering to help clean his mask as an apology on the boys's behalf. He claims that he doesn't mind but he would rather not take his mask off in front of you when he hasn't gotten to know you all that well.

"You don't have to remove it if you feel uncomfortable, I'll just wipe away whatever I can with a cloth, but if you're still hesitant, I'd understand."

He takes a moment to consider your offer, trying to see if you have any other ulterior motives. It's not that he doesn't want to trust you, he does, but sometimes you just have to be a little extra cautious even with people you like. Sensing no ill intent on your part though, he relaxes himself once more and accepts your help, letting his hood finally loosen and fall back to ease your process.

Your actions are incredibly comforting to Dream who can't help himself from leaning into your touches every once in a while. He watches you with his fullest attention as you wipe away the mess on his mask with a damp cloth. He loves how focused you look while doing so, taking in every little quirk you may have while you concentrate. His little crush on you that he's harboured ever since he saw you running around the server can't help but grow every second you give him your attention.

There's a certain draw to you that Dream can't fight off no matter how hard he tries, you just manage to hold a certain power over him and that was evident by the fact that he completely lost interest in continuing his hunt for Tommy and Tubbo even after finding out that they were still most likely on your property. Dream was a persistent man, he was never one to simply drop something with no proper reason at all. There was just this appeal to you that he couldn't describe and he was desperate to find out what it was about you that made him act differently than he normally would.

"Okay then, that's the last of it," he has to stop himself from letting out a whine when you pull your hands away from his mask, he wants to say something to try to get you to continue on longer but decides against it, not wanting to seem desperate. His eyes don't leave you even after you pull away, watching you rinse off the dirty cloth before throwing it into what seemed to be a bin filled with laundry. When you return to sit by his side, he can't help but swallow a bit of his pride to rest his head on your shoulder. It's a big risk to take, but at least he has an excuse for his actions if he ever needs it.

"Tired, Dream?"

"Mhmm," he feels himself melt when you let your fingers run through his slightly sweat damp hair, clearly unphased by the state of it much, to his joy.

"You wanna rest here for a while? I'm sure you could get a good nap in before leaving."

"That depends, can I still use you as my pillow?"

"Not like I have anything else to do for the rest of the day, knock yourself out."

"Then if you'll excuse me," his head is quick to leave your shoulder to instead rest in your lap and the blissful sigh he lets out escapes his lips before he can even stop himself. You just feel so comfortable to him. "I'm gonna drift off, wake me up in an hour or so, will you?"

You let out a hum in response and it isn't long before you start to see Dream's body go slack, his breathing now steady and deep as he slowly falls asleep. It's quite endearing seeing Dream act so affectionately towards you, something you certainly didn't expect from a guy who carries himself with a subtle wave of authority, but you definitely weren't complaining as you continued to play with his hair once again.

Dream would never tell a single soul about it, but this was quiet possible the best sleep he's gotten in years, if he even tried to sleep at all to begin with. The thought to just slow down and relax is never really on his mind, his head always spinning with things he has to do. However, with you, he's glad to know that he can look to you for comfort from now on, something he now realizes is rather hard to find on the server. It pains him to know that he'll have to leave in just a few moments but for now, he'll take what he can get from you and maybe, if you let him, he'll be sure to return your sweet gestures tenfold one day.

A/N: Hello, everyone! I am so sorry for being absent recently, I know the writer's block excuse can only go so far but- yeah ^^' I'm so sorry again for everything and I'm sorry if this isn't what you were hoping for anon! Thank you so much for the rquest and feel free to request it again if you want me to remake this to hopefully suit what you wanted. Anyways, I hope you all have a good day and thank you so much for reading!

(Requests are open and anon is on!)

[hitoshisbabygirl]

Author's Notes ♡: Hey Hey, it’s me, ya girl and I’m back with another collab! Ive always loved the roommates theme and have a few ideas for some other ones in my head making this. It’s kinda all over the place because it was a professing with their friendship! Yes I made a Zelda reference and I land about it no. I know Rapp is seen as violent and dense but but this is in a collage au so he’s just a bit...aloof I just love the idea of him actually being a big softie ʕ⊙ᴥ⊙ʔ. I hope you enjoy! ~ bunny ❥

Warnings : NSFW!!! (◎_◎;)

Sweet caring sorta himbo(meh?) Rappa, female oral, Big Dick Rappa , sorta size kink if you really sqint,cheater ex mentioned like once , language

Word count : About 5k! Yikes ^^’

Paring(s) : Kendo Rappa x F! Reader

Enjoy ♡

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Having Kendo Rappa as a roommate is an interesting feat in itself. He is big, and loud , very very loud. He wasn't a bad roommate he just..was like a cute large and fluffy puppy that didn't know his size...or power. Their interactions started as the two met during a halloween party one of the frat houses down the street thew. [ ] went as Midna, her best friend Rumi was dressed as Impa while the last two of her friend group , Amaya and Asa, a pair of sisters, were dressed as fairies. “[ ]! Rumi! you two are so cute! Zelda costumes?” Asa asked as her sister ran up to admire their outfits. “Yeah! [ ] wanted to do some characters that matched us y'know?” She said as she nudged her quiet friend , the girl jumped and laughed , scratching her neck as she gave the excited sisters a small smile “If i was coming out tonight I was gonna wear what i wanted to really wear” [ ] said as the group of them laughed and mingled with their other friends and classmates. While heading to get juice , she heard loud screaming , as the sport boys were starting to show up. First was the football team, then the basketball. Baseball and wrestling came next, then the smaller clubs finished them out. Sighing [ ] was content away from everyone as she watched mayhem ensure, chugging of barrels , more music, girls swarming around the players they crushed on as they did minor things, like talk to their teammates or eating from one of the big food trays laying around. Feeling a tap on her shoulder broke her from her people watching, Rumi giving her a bright smile as she took a cup and joined her. “How's my favorite antisocial babe doing now that all of the party has arrived?” She asked as [ ] gave her a pained smile, going to get more if something to drink “Well I don't feel the need to smack anyone is that a good sign?” she chuckled as she got a hug from the more energetic girl “That's my girl! Don't worry, i wanna get out asap but we’re gonna need our favourite pair of sisters before that can happen and it seems like they're fawning over some of the baseball boys as we speak” Rumi said as they watched a familiar tutu of blue go by, followed by a pink one going a similar way. “I don't get it… but at least their taste in men isn't too bad” [ ] joked as Rumi agreed , laughing “Yeah miss tsundere, you can't stand saps, or most of the jocks either” giving the white haired girl a look she rolled her eyes and gave her own laugh back “Yeah I guess i'm either picky or just got high standards” “Ain't nothing wrong with that we all do!” She said as she elbowed the girl beside her.

As the two of them sat there and talked Rumi glanced past her and her eyes widened, causing [ ] to stop talking “What is it-” before she could question her, the white haired girl jumped up, waving at someone “Rap! Over here!” Constantly yelling to someone [ ] started to ask again when a booming voice came from above her “HEY RUMI” a very loud voice called as stomping could be heard before it stopped “I see you took our idea huh?” With that comment [ ] turned around only to be face to face with a dark cover chest, only to then look up to some of the most warm and amber colored eyes looking down at her “Hello there little lady, I like your costume! Erm..Midna aint it?” The giant ganon dressed man questioned as all she could do was shake her head in agreement, causing the giant male to laugh “Awe don't be shy of me kitten i ain't gonna bite!” He chuckled some more as her friend jumped in “I told you she was shy! Be nice Rappa!” Rumi yelled at the flaming red head as he gave her a toothy grin “Oh I was just teasin’ , I bet I ain't hurt her feelin’s did I sweetheart?” Rappa questioned as [ ] face felt hot, hiding her face in her hands as the teasing duo laughed causing the girl to huff “I'm tired of you two already” She said as a giant warm hand touched her shoulders “Awe dont be like that hun, in time ya’l love me” Rappa teased as he gave her a smile,making her stomach flutter “Yeah! This is who wanted you to meet anyway [ ]! This is Kendo Rappa, our top wrestling boy, Rappa this is my adorable best friend [ ]!” Rumi said as the two gave each other a shy smile , a sly one creeping up on Rumis as she thought to herself “Yeah, this'll definitely happen”

Since then the two had become more acquainted , having many classes together and sharing some similar friends [ ] was used to the bruting and sometimes dense man making a random ( and loud) appearance. As [ ] sat in her mostly empty room thanks to her last roommate moving out after constantly breaking sound rules and getting into it with the girl downstairs for being in her bed with her boyfriend (Yikes) she felt a sense of calm. Closing her chemistry book and letting out a relieved sigh [ ] thought about the fact she was going to get a new roommate, the thought was nerve wracking but also it was exciting as well. It was almost too quiet , having the last room by the stairs meant she didn't have to deal with many people besides her friend group. They weren't loud , unless one of her friends decided to get laid and made way too many sounds, or if their neighbors under them threw parties or also had...extra partners coming around. She definitely could feel she was sorta excited she was going to have a roommate again. The sisters had a room to the left of her while Rumi had the one to the right, sharing it with a girl they knew from math. The rooms were not gender defined, some girls having rooms with guys and vise versa so it made it easy to get a room.

These dorms were also quite spacious, the walls not paper thin and a large enough area space that could house two or maybe even three people. So when she heard a knock on her door she expected it to be her new roommate she was advised would come today. Happily opening the door she was shocked and almost terrified to see just a box, well actually a few boxed stacked hiding whoever it was behind them. But if the faed rustic orange hair and wide shoulders meant anything she knew her new roommate already “K-kendo?” [ ] said as the boxes walked by her , landing with a soft thud as bangs covered the male “[ ]? Is that you?” moving his hair out of the way their eyes had the same expression, shocked. “Uh h-hey there sweetheart why isn't this cute, we’re roomies hun?” he laughed as she couldn't help but give him a smile back. “I never expected to see you as my roommate” [ ] teased as Rappa gave her a hardy laugh “Well it looks like me and you are gonna be close friends here darlin’!” With a wide smile he picked her up and gave her a tight hug, taking her breath away ‘ Oh boy i wonder how this will turn out’ she thought as she was eye leve with her giant puppy like friend, his eyes filled of joy

Which leads into now, [ ] trying her hardest to read up on what her next project could be. As she sat there thinking she heard the tale tell sound of her roommate entering with some of his teammates, the boys loud and rambunctious as they entered. Feeling a heavy hand on her shoulder she looked up to the towering boy that was her roommate, his eyes just as bright as usual. “Hey darlin, we're just gonna talk up sum strats a for the upcoming match and play some games in the back , is that alright?” He asked with pleading eyes as one of his more cocky and jock like friends spoke up “Well youre the man here, dont let some women say if we cant or can be here” Rolling her eyes and proceeding to stand up and push past the wide eyed boy who knew what was going to happen. [ ] took in a breath before opening her eyes to look up to the boy “Well it is my room, i pay shit here and the man over there didnt get this place, so i do choose who can and cant come through my place” She said as she pointed a finger to the boys chest. Trying to push his luck he pushed back against her finger “ I bet you just haven’t gotten a good enough dicking for you to just stay out of the way” He laughed. Before [ ] could hit him hard enough her rust haired friend moved in , clearly towering the boy “Yer better watch yer mouth, she has her right around here, im invatin her space so watch it before there's no place for any of us to relax without rules” He said as the boy sucked up any laughing and nodded his head in understanding. Surprised by her usually aloof roommate [ ] stood back and went back to her work, the other boys scrambling behind kendo as the boy who tried to challenge her jumped to follow, never making a move to mock or do anything again.

The boys picked back up and were having fun in the back room of kendo’s , sighs and groans when they lost and victorious laughs and screams if someone won. Once they all left and everything settle to a quiet rumble as the last few funneled out [ ] could here herself think, reading up on chemistry as she felt a presence behind her. “ ‘M sorry, i didn't know my question wouldve cause a roar outta ya..” Kendo started as she smiled gently, turning to face the wounded boy “Its okay….guess it just lit something in me i always did y'know?” She said with a small laugh as she went to type again, but was stopped by the hulking boy. “I gotta make it up to ya alright? I know i aint say anythin that he did but…. It feels like my fault y'know?” He admitted as his large hand covered hers. “You wont live this down will you?” She questioned as his eyes flickered up to hers, sparking. “Nope, not at all. Lemme treat ya right okay?” For such innocent words [ ] couldnt help the shiver that ran down her back at his words. Maybe it was because he was so close, or that the smell of his cologne was too much, either way her head was spinning as she let him still hold her hand as he tugged her away from her computer , his smile widening as she reluctantly shut the bright screen “Great! Now let's get something to eat im starvin” He rasped out as [ ] gave him a giggle that made the boy stop in his tracks. He always thought she had a cute giggle but this one,for some reason , made his heart and chest feel warm and tight. Ignoring the feeling he took the girl with him, the two headed out to get something to eat as they headed down , the sound of her giggling still running though kendos mind.

Getting a random frantic text from Kendo wasn't unusual, in fact it was quite common for him to do such, which now didn't faze [ ] at all but this one was...particularly odd giving what he was asking ‘Hair? And messy? What in the world is he up to’ [. ] thought to herself as she headed to her shared room with the boy, nervous of what scene she could be entering.

Sighing after his last text she hurried her way to their dorm room and in fact he did leave the door open, making her more nervous as she entered the living room. “Kendo?” [ ] called out as she heard a gruff sound come from her bathroom. Entering was a sight of its own; towels, a bowl of some..substance , bags and bottles of body wash and a one flustered and shirtless Kendo. “[ ]! ‘M so glad yer home here take this” The large man said as he handed her an old toothbrush that was frayed and covered with the same odd substance in the bowl. The lingering smell from the room eventually gave it away ; shampoos. “Uh why do i need this? And why is there shampoo on a toothbrush” She questioned as he groaned, taking the towel off his head as she blinked owlishly at his very faded red orange hair, the color now more of a neon pumpkin. Shaking off extra water caused even more of his hair to fall, landing between his shoulder blades as he gave [ ] a desperate look. “It wont come out, and the more i scub the more...orange i become. I look like a orange peel” He whined as [ ] figured out what he was trying to do

“ You wanna remove the color right? A bowl of shampoo and body wash isnt strong enough” Going into their kitchen she grabbed some baking soda and lemon juice , coming back to the hopeless boy “Let me mix something up ive used before okay? Then we can proceed with your hair” Two and a half hours later the boys hair was now a light peachy orange, just light enough to take up with bleach “Well, if were gonna go for blonde ill go get some bleach and some masks, deep conditioners too, your hair is definitely gonna need it and I don’t want it breaking off because you're impatient to take care of it” she sighed as he was amazed at his hair, running a large hand through the still damp mess atop his head “Wow yer good” He said as she smiled at him, taking her keys “And you have a lot of hair. I'll be back” She said as she hopped up “Wait! Lemme go with you?” He asked but also seemed to demand, pleading eyes looking down at hers as wet hair dropped onto his still bare chest.

Trying not to be hypnotized by where they landed and proceeded to slide down she looked up at her amber eyed friend, who was staring intently as he waited for her answer, soft “Please?” coming from his lips. Sighing dramatically on purpose [ ] laughed at him, giving him a grin “of course you can you big puppy” she said as he picked her up in a hug, a gesture that shows his excitement she's come to learn. Putting her down he went to go to the door before his friend called him out “uhm Kendo? You don’t have on a shirt” she said plainly as he looked at her, raising a brow as he gave his rebuttal “Its hot” He responded. Giving him a side eyed look she turned from him and towards their bedrooms, [ ] sliding into his. Soon she came out with a sleeveless one, throwing it at the hulk of a guy infront of her “You can't come in the store without one” She said as he gave a growl of his own, sliding the shirt over his head as they left their apartment “Well at least ya got me one without sleeves” He huffed as they started back to the door, heading out to finally go to the store to start another process on Kendos hair, the male just excited to finally get rid of his pumpkin hair.

As Kendo sat in the shared living room with [ ] , deep conditioning his hair at her yelling request (‘If you dont re nourish it before you want me to bleach it , I won't do it!’ ) he watched his roommate and now his best friend wanderer around and do housley things for their apartment, the girl content as she cleaned and sorted out things in the kitchen, her body turned away from him as he started to think over how beautiful he thought she was. He want the type to brag or gloat about having so many girls comment on his size , height wised and well sometimes other ways , trying to tempt him to them. All while his friends wanted him to explain how he got the attention from the other gender , Kendo hated to admit it but ,he only wanted his roommates' affection. He knew how put together she was, smart and kind. He saw what her previous boyfriend did, a cheater that didnt take care of the beautiful soul he lived with. He couldnt stand seeing her come home and cry herself to sleep broke his heart, and when he fought the cheater, in the act he didnt feel bad once. Of course it ended their relationship, and [ ] yelled at him for fighting , explaining how he couldve ended in jail for fighting her ex, but he argued it would be worth it.

Sitting and mulling over everything he realized Rumi was right, hed do anything for [ ] but not the same for the other females that passed through his life. She actually, was the first person he did that for and that thought made his head dizzy. Moving from his place on the couch he went to stand in the kitchen, waiting for [ ] to come back from her room. Hearing the iconic sound of her feet pittering across the wooden floor he gave her a lopsided smile as she jumped, smacking into the chest of Kendo. Before [ ] could fall from impacting with his chest he caught her, holding her arm to his chest. “K-kendo! You shouldve told me you were in here! Why are you in here anyway?”[ ] scolded as he laughed, moving out of the shorter girl's way as he started his staring again, this time [ ] noticed him “......What?” She asked as he looked down at her, an unreadable look on his face. “Kendo” she called as he hummed, moving closer “Yer gorgeous” Kendo blurted out as [ ] started to stutter, eyes going wide. Taking teo steps forward he essentially trapped his friend between the corner of their kitchen canopy. “Remember when I fought that bastard of an ex you had?” Kendo asked as he saw [ ]’s eyes go soft , shaking her head “What about him...i'm still mad you almost lost everything just to fight him yknow” she huffed as he poked her cheek “Id do it again if it meant you'd be happy again yaknow” Kendo said as he leaned down to push his head against hers, amber and [ ] eyes mingling. Lifting his large hands he traced each side of her cheek, analyzing over her face as he nuzzled against her nose “Stop playin hard to get would ya? Bad enough you got my heart all in your little hands” he whispered as [ ] just started at the giant , her arms gently coming over to cover his that were place on her cheeks “K-ken..i need to start you hair..” She hopelessly try to argue as he groaned, burying his face into her neck. Squealing at his damp hair touching her shoulder [ ] jumped ,pushing the large boy back “Your hair's wet!” She whined as he chuckleed, mo\ving back as it turned into a booming laugh “Oh my ‘m sorry babe , you look surprised” He said as she smacked hsi chest “Go to the sink, i need to rinse the conditioner” She yelled as he hwld his hands up in a mocked surrender, pulling his shirt up and off in one fluid movement. Caught up by him stripping his shirt off [ ] gave him a glance over, the heaviness of him admitting feelings for her in his own unique way still lingering in her mind as the toned and strong back of her friend made her head hazy. Turning around from the lack of notice of his smaller friend Kendo caught the eys of [ ] staring, her eyes quickly flickering to his curious ones as he grinned “See somethin you like darlin?” He teased as she grunted, reaching up to push his head in the sink “Shut up and let me do your hair”

And like clockwork, Kendo rappa was an icy blonde after two days, a break given to his long ,thick and wavy hair, the giant boy looking over his new look as he sighed happily, loving to have his hair finally look normal. “Well damn [ ]! Ya made it even better than what i was thinking. Look! My hair’s all wavy at the ends and it's soft! Whatever you made me do made it feel better!” He raved as the girl looked over her work. And in fact it was highly even, his hair consistent and lavishy soft. Giving him a shy look she giggle “That's what a deep conditioner will do to damage hair and the way i'm always untangling your hair for you, i knew it would need it before you wanted to go white” She said as he just kept running his hands in his hair, turning back to her “I could just kiss you right now!” He blurted out as they both froze at his words, eyes wide from both parties “I-I aint mean it [ ]” He croaked out as she giggled, stepping back from him “O-of course you didnt, why would you i mean aha..”She said as she moved away more , his own words started to hit him as he realized the reverse effect it was having “NO! No, I'd want to kiss you, I really really want to. I just...want it to be on your terms okay?” he said as he grabbed her arm, holding her in front of him as if she'd float away if he didnt.

“Kendo...I..” [ ] started as she came back to his hip, laying between his legs onto his thankfully covered chest “I just dont want to lose you if you decide you wouldnt want me around” She whispered as he pulled her even closer, kissing her forehead as he stared at her “Dont you ever say that again ya hear me? Youll be my princess and ill be your humble er..knight” He hesitated as he tried to think of a sweet way to explain his feelings. [ ] looked up to him as she felt here eyes feel heavy with tears. Before one even fell Kendo pushed his lips as soft as the strong boy could, wrapping a large and beefy arm around her waist as he slipped his tongue in her mouth, letting his hand slide down to pull her up to sit on the tops of his thighs while he leaned against his dresser. Softly [ ] pushed her hand on his chest and pulled away, now eye to eye with Kendo “Sorry , d-did i overstep my place” He asked as she let out a snot, before laughing. Confused, Kendo went to talk before she stopped him “No no, youre good, just that if we keep kissing on this dressed there's gonna be a hole in the wall” She said as she pointed to where the mirror kept tapping a spot, scrapes already aroring it “R-right!” He laughed too, picking her up to set her on his bed “Now then...lemme serve you princess” He said before kissing her again, not letting her rebuttal his own comment. As the two kissed he made sure to be as gentle as he could be , at times clumsily nipping her lip or his hand pulling hard at her clothes.

All in the name of wanting to show how much she meant to him. Soon he pulled away, a small string of saliva strung between them from the hearty kissing. “[ ]...i think i love you” He said as she gave him a soft look , trying to catch her breath from the dramatic kiss they came from “Good, because i love your loud ass too Kendo” She teased as he smirked,leaning down to bite her neck, causing her to moan loudly “We’ll see whos loud after im done wit ya” he gave his own tease back as he moved between her plump thighs, kissing the flesh there as he pulled her shorts to the side, exposing her flushed lower lips. Gasping she reached for his hand that held her legs apart causing the fresh blonde to look up at her, eyes wandering over her face for signs of him to stop “I-Im not used to being this bare sorry..” She whimpered out as it dawned on the other side of her words “Have you ever ate out baby?” he asked as she hid her face from him, shaking ehr head as he groaned, pulling her shorts down as he saw her lacy panties , a smirk placed on his lips as he peeled them off too, a string of arousal keeping them plastered to her lips “fuck, that bastared really didnt take care of you” he growled as she sat up to see his darkening eyes kiss up to her lips whispering out a “but i will” as he sucked one of her lips into his mouth, causing a lound moan from the woman he was inbetween. Slowly he licked up her lips, searching for that small pearl as she whined, a hand coming down to tug his hair. Grunting he soon found it, sucking onto her clit as she gasped, her thighs shutting over his head as he looked up to her, watching as her back arched off of the bed once her pressed his tongue hard against her clit. Softly he let a hand run under her thigh, a single thick finger tracing over her twitching hole as he pushed it in gently, making [ ] squeal. “K-Ken!” She called out as he looked up again, catching her eyes and flushed face on his actions. Making a show of what he was doing he let a second one join the first as he sucked hard on her bud at the same time making [ ]’s eyes roll back as her hand fell from his head, nervous od pulling too hard. Kendo however had other plans. Feeling her walls tighten around his fingers he made sure to find that spongy spot and hitting it, finally pulling his lips from her clit as he smiled “Uuh Uh doll, look at me” He growled as she hesitantly glances at him, regretting that she did. He looked way too good, hair a mess as he was panting, catching his breath from being down on her. With evry pump of his fingers his muscle in his arm twitched, making her own walls spasm as she watched it “Ya like it sweetheart?” He asked as she shook her head, watching him move back to her pussy “Good, cause i aint done” He said as he gave her clit kitten licks beofe slurping on it, throwing a wink at her as he picked up his pace, making [ ]’s voice rise as she felt herself getting close before quickly snapping at a particular hard thrust of his finger to her spot on her walls.

Letting out a light scream she came over his fingers and tongue, the male laughing gleefully as he sucked up her juices. LEtting her come down some he watched her face as bliss spread through her body and a sense of confidence whent though his. Slowly he picked up the pace of his fingers again, going from a shallow push to more stroking as he heard [ ] whine, grabbing at his hand “Uh uh sweetheart, you taste too good fro me to only let you cum on my tongue once” he said as he pushed her down by her stomach, letting her take his spare hand as he went back to suckling on her lower lips. He knew he had a lot in stored for her, and watching the newly admitted love of his life cum from his pleasing was enough for him to realized he needed to do more. Popping off her clit as puling his fingers gently out he looked at her ravished body, using his non wet hand to pull at his sweats. “Youre beautiful like this [ ]” kendo said as she took in heavy breaths, feeling her throat close as he stroked his massive size, rubbing the swollen head as he looked at her , giving her a soft smile “Ya dont have to take me just yet , hes just throbbin too much” He groaned as he twisted his hand hard over his leaking tip, feeling himself throb as he laid back on his bed. “Ride my face?” he asked with one of the most sinful looks [ ] had ever seen ; lustful eyes watching her as his large hand stroked his larger dick, the soft and fleshy muscle jumping at watching her crawl to him, throwing a leg over his neck

“I-i dont wanna suffocate you..” She said as he smirked before saying “Ya cant suffocate me i want it” Soon he grabbed her hip, pushing her onto his awaiting mouth as he picked up his pace, sliding his tongue into her twitching hole as she rocked her hips, keeping a steady pace as she held herself on his shoulder and headboard, ,depreate moand and cries tumbling out as he rocked her too, going from her clit to her dripping entrance, stoking his dick harder and harde as her moans spurred him on. Soon he felt the bud in his mouth twitch and throb harder, the sounds [ ] made increasing as his own hand sped up with his throbbing head, the telltales of them both getting close. A moan erruptred from the girl on his lips as she came again , her essence running down his face as he groaned, ropes of cum shooting onto his hand and stomach as he came himself, still stroking out what he could as the pressure he felt subside. Sliding off softly [ ] saw the mess behind her, taking it upon herself to lick up some of it as she was met with his same aber eyes, watching her move to his still hard member “Let me take care of you too?” she asked shyly. Fuck he was done for as he felt himslef hardend worse at her words, a large hand coming up to smack her ass as he psuhed her up and over his head, letting his tip and her swollen lips run over eachother. Slowly he pushed his tip past her budding lips, entranced by the way it swallowed her whole “Fuck...i love you [ ] and by the time im done with ya...youll know it” he whispered in her ear as she felet him push, more and moreof his large size spreading her lips father than shed ever had. Her eyes rolled up as she felt him bottom out, both moaning as he picked up his pace, making a soothing rhythm as little moans and whines came from [ ], deep grunts coming from Kendo as he kissed her shoulders and back, marking where he could as he felt himself get closer with how she was throbbing over his member.

Digging his fingers as deep as he could in her plush hips he let our a mantra of ‘Cummin’ i and ‘ I love yous’ in her ear as she pushed back against him, feeling herself teetering as he pushed as deep as he could go ,letting himself cum as she came too, the overwhelming feeling of him throbbing against her spongy walls and previous orgasms enough to push her over a third time. “[ ]” Kendo rasped as [ ] hummed , feeling her legs still shake with him in her “Im serious, i'm never leaving you...you're mine and i love you…” kendo said as he kissed the back of her neck, nibbling her ear as he stayed in her “Mhm….i love you too Rappa..”

[schrijverr]

Promises You Made to Me

Chapter 1 out 3

Aragorn falls for Boromir on their journey. When they realize they share their affection, they also know that the time is not now to act upon them. Both promise to share love once they see the quest done, a promise that long seems a broken oath. Still, the horn was heard in more lands and the Elves have not yet forsaken this world

A Boromir lives AU where they fall in love before Boromir falls at Amon Hen, but Aragorn only learns of his survival after the defeat of Sauron.

On AO3.

Ships: Aragorn x Boromir

Warnings: thinking someone died, injury

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 1: I Can’t Promise You Fair Sky Above

It was hard not to like Boromir, Aragorn had soon found. Despite their introduction and the vast amount of unspoken issues between them, he could not help but like the Son of Gondor.

The man spoke of his home easily and with much enthusiasm, keeping the Hobbits entertained with stories from his youth and history. He walked without complaining, making sure everyone could walk with him and watching over them steadily when it was his turn.

He was always ready to lend a helping hand and Aragorn appreciated how he would help think about the next step and wasn’t afraid to speak his mind and offer insight or protest when he thought a foolishdecision was being made.

Not only that, but he had taken up the duty to teach the Hobbits to fight. Merry and Pippin took the most interest in the craft and it was a joy to see Boromir in his element when he taught them. He would grin and a proud aura would surround him.

Boromir kept the spirits high and was unmissable when muscle was needed.

It didn’t hurt that he was not bad to look at eitherand Aragorn found his eyes often wanderingto Gondor’s finest. Though he would look away when their eyes met, for he felt guilty about the reason behind his gaze, since Boromir was a Lord and not someone for Aragorn to gawk at.

However, it didn’t come as a surprise that Boromir had noticed this. He was a trained soldier and was aware of how to read people at a court. So one day, he came up to Aragorn keeping watch and sat down, saying nothing for a short moment.

“I know I did not make the best impression when we first met, but I had not realized that my behavior caused this much strife between us,” Boromir opened. “I apologize. I hope we can move past this.”

Aragorn still looked up in surprise. He had not realized that this was how Boromir would interpret his gazes and it startled him for a moment. “Yes, I see your gazes,” Boromir chuckled sadly when he saw Aragorn’s reaction. “I’m no Ranger, but I know when someone is avoiding my eyes.”

Quickly gathering his bearings, Aragorn replied: “I- It was not my intent. I do not have hard feelings about our introduction, I know I cannot ask blind following when I have not been present in Gondor. Legolas gets ahead of himself.”

“Ah.” It was clear Boromir had not expected that reply and he took a moment to rethink his strategy. “Well, then I do hope we can come to some agreement in companionship. Unless there is another reason for your avoidance of my company...” he trailed off, not in question, but in request of Aragorn to speak up if there was something else bothering him that prohibited any further friendship.

“No. No, there is not,” Aragorn said, for there was no reason to deny Boromir’s friendship, save for his heart speeding up as he felt Boromir heat beside him.

“I am glad,” Boromir smiled and Aragorn thought to himself: ‘I had not yet seen him smile at me before now. I should change that. It is a very good smile. His eyes crinkle and the feeling of kinship comes to mind when I look upon it.’ And what else could he do, but smile back?

The smile still lingered on his face as he looked back out into the wild for threats and it did not seem to leave until sleep claimed him once his watch was over. Since Boromir had watch after him, hedecided to keep him company until that time came.

As they sat next to their camp, keeping watch in the day for they only traveled through the night, they talked of such normal things that the contrast with their mission seemed absurd.

Boromir, for example, recalled the drunken tale of him and his brother, who had left a farmer very confused as of why his goats had bows upon their horns. In turn, Aragorn told Boromir of his foster-sister Arwen using him in a plot against their brothers, for they dared not to turn against the youngest of them all, who they viewed as innocent and how the he and Arwen had used that against them for manyyears.

It was a merry hour and it saddened Aragorn to see it over. But he did not deem it wise to stay seated next to Boromir any longer, since looking at him with a reason, made it harder to look away when there was none.

The other man was hypnotizing in a way Aragorn had not encountered before. He was sturdy in his frame, open in his manner, both smiling easy, while hiding a thousand burdens in his eyes that Aragorn longed to understand, but did not feel entitled to unwrap.

Looking at Boromir seemed both simple and too complex.

Aragorn yearned for a friendship with the other, a relation beyond mere traveling companions, but he did not know how to keep it a friendship, nor how he should hold himself around Boromir whilst knowing that at one point in their journey, he might become Boromir’s King.

Was it wrong for a King to look upon one of his subject with more affection than platonic? Most Kings did not marry out of love, but politics. And in dark times like these,would allowing the possibility be wise?

Questions Aragorn did not know how to answer kept him busy while they marched ever closer to the Misty Mountains over which they would have to travel.

During their journey, Boromir was frequently closer than before, choosing to walk at the rear alongside Aragorn and sitting next to him during the small leisure time they had.

And when Boromir was close, he had the tendency to talk. It was something most of the Fellowship had noticed early on, but the Son of Gondor did not like the silent marches and would often strike up conversation or talk to everyone in general, leaving it up to his audience whether they would listen or tune him out.

When Boromir talked, Aragorn often found himself amongst the ones who listened. Boromir had a nice, soothing voice that was great for telling tales of splendor, while at times being near philosophical as he pondered the goings of the world in times like these.

Listening to Boromir was both stupid and smart, for if he listened, he would not have to talk and mess things up, but listening made the affection he already harbored for the other grow.

Where he had first believed Boromir to be more muscle than brain, he was soon disproven. From his tales it became clear that Boromir had a sharp mind. He was a sound strategist and he easily weaved in the social complexities of history into the tales he told of the valor of Gondor.

It was interesting to talk to Boromir and Aragorn did so gladly. He found himself talking of his own home and the Dúnedain as well as the way of the Elves that housed him for so long along with his days as a Ranger. And while he talked, Boromir listened.

That was another factor he had not counted on when he had first met Boromir. The man had seemed steadfast in his own ways, stubborn to a fault and unwilling to listen when needed. Yet, here he was disproven once more.

Boromir would remember little details conversations later and recalledpeople that Aragorn had mentioned sparsely before. Aragorn did not know this was a skill the Steward’s Son had picked up as Captain, for men are more willing to follow you into battle when they know you care about their well being and person.

So, they both talked and both listened, until Aragorn sought out Boromir’s company of his own accord. He had not noticed he did so, until he came back from gathering edible plants and found that the seat next to Boromir had been saved for him, since it was his usual place in the camp.

It made him still for a moment, before walking on and settling down, focusing more on dinner than his company that evening.

And that night as they walked, he was amongst the ones tuning out as Boromir started his talking again. At this point he must have recited his entire military career, moved through much of Gondor’s history of the Third Age and gotten to know everyone’s life. Aragorn now knew more of the Toby Leaf’s history than he ever thought was needed for one, but Merry had been happy to explain in detailand Boromir had listened equally content.

But Aragorn did not know which tales he graced them with that night, for his mind was wondering when he had become so close with Boromir.

He did not recall when he got used to settling down next to Boromir every day, nor when listening to Boromir became more important to him than listening for threats, but he found it to be true. The affection he had for Boromir had blossomed into natural closeness.

At first he thought that the embers of a crush he had before, were nowextinguished ashe got to know the other man and form a friendship with him. Upon closer inspection of his feelings, however, he found instead that the opposite was true.

The speeding of his heart had become normal whenever Boromir was near and he felt the heat upon his cheeks with every grin send his way. His feelings had shifted, sure, but they had shifted from attraction to a deeper affection. He had become more infatuated with Boromir through their friendship.

It was a startling discovery, for while Aragorn was used to appreciating the physique of those around him, it did not often happen that he was enthralled beyond their features.

Yet here he was and he had discovered that it was not just Boromir’s strong arms or handsome face that kept him ensnared. Instead it was the crinkles around his eyes when he smiled, the gleam in his eyes when he talked, the softness when he listened and the comfort in his presence. He cherished their talks more than their practice fights.

He caught Legolas’ eyes and the Elf smiled quietly, eyes quickly flitting between Aragorn and Boromir, before turning away. It would seem others had caught on quicker to the will of his heart than he himself.

When Legolas held watch that day, Aragorn checked to see if those around them were asleep. With Boromir laid next to him, it was easy to determine his steady breaths as true.

“So there is still time for old friends, I see,” Legolas jested, mirth in his eyes when Aragorn sat down next to him. Aragorn looked away in shame, for he had not realized how much he had been ignoring the Elf.

“Do not be so dour, Aragorn,” said Legolas. “No one here blames you for being drawn to the Son of Gondor. And your oblivion has been my entertainment for the past weeks. It’s been long since a story like this has beenwritten.”

Aragorn glared at Legolas and huffed. “No story like this is being written, for it would not be just for a King to look upon his Steward like this.”

“I did not know you had accepted your destiny, my friend.”

“I- I don’t. I haven’t,” Aragorn protested. “But it is a path we might walk on, no matter our beliefs or desires and if that is to become my future, I should know better than to act like there is something owed to me that is not. I will not put him in a position where his choices are to ignore the wishes of his King or do something he does not want to.”

Legolas was quiet for a moment, mind processing Aragorns outburst. Then he smirked: “I do not think he’ll be doing anythinghe does not want to, if you were to ask him.”

“What?” Aragorn looked up in shock. He had not detected any reciprocation in the eyes of Boromir, just friendly affection that he shared with everyone of the Fellowship.

“You are blind,” Legolas sounded surprised. “For one who claimsElven decent and senses beyond normal men, you havenot seen that Boromir loves you too?”

He had not yet used the word love to describe his affection for Boromir, though the word had been echoing in his mind, but he did not think it wise to use that word, for it made what he had been attempting to avoid more real.

“I do not, nor does he,” he answered. “And we know my senses were not meant for internal factors, but threats.”

“If my Elf eyes are not mistaken, you have not been watching for many threats as of late, my friend,” Legolas had again that knowing look in his eyes and Aragorn found that he did not care much for that look upon his friend’s face.

“You do not know what you are talking about, Legolas.” It was a pitiful attempt at deflection and Aragorn knew it.

Legolas raised a pointed brow, but said no more of it, save: “We both know that is a lie, but I shall not further pressure you, for it is clear to me that you are not ready for it.”

And after that he stayed true to his word and said no more during his watch of Boromir, no matter if it was Aragorn, who opened up the topic. Instead choosing to comment on the landscape and the many nature wonders he had seen on this journey.

Aragorn did not try then, just taking the opportunity to talk to his friend, but the conversation had left much on his mind.

Did Boromir carry the same affection?

He did not think so. Still he watched Boromir carefully as they climbed the Caradhras. The man did not act differently than before, he walked with Merry and Pippin, making sure the two Hobbits did not falter. From time to time, he looked back, checking the rear like a good Captain would, smiling when his gaze met Aragorn’s.

Much to his embarrassment, he found that he smiled back without thinking whenever it happened. So, he focused on Frodo in front of him, the Ring-bearer should be his biggest priority.

Still it was hard not to let his gaze wander back every time. It was a strange thing to look to Boromir like he was a puzzle instead of his friend. He did not know which clues to look for, there were not tracks for him to read and he found himself thrust into unknown territory.

He started to wonder whether Boromir’s gaze on him was the same as the gaze he had for the Hobbits, a glance to ensure they were okay. Or if it were a gaze for Aragorn alone, one of special weight, with deeper meaning.

Aragorn could not decipher it. After all he had seen in his life so far, this was the mystery that stumped him. No matter what Legolas said, he could not see in Boromir’s eyes what had seemed obvious to the Elf.

It was a frustration, he did not know how to deal with.

Much to his chagrin, or maybe not (he did not know how he felt about it), Boromir noticed. It was even more frustrating that that was the only part he was able to pick up on in regards of Boromir, the fact that the man noticed he was watching him.

He loathed a confrontation that might come of it, so he kept close to others of the Fellowship, hoping that being with another person would discourage conversation about the topic.

Luckily, despite the misfortune, the topic was soon of the least import in their mind, for the evil will of the mountain had turned against them. Snow came down heavily and soon they had to cease their ascent and wait until they could turn back.

Boromir kept Merry and Pippin close, pulling his cloak around the three of them as they huddled close to the fire. Aragorn did the same with Frodo and Sam. Boromir had not lied when he’d called outthat this would be the death of the Hobbits.

If they made it through, it would be a miracle. This was a truth that was heavily felt throughout the entire Fellowship and it was not the moment to talk about trivial things as a few extra gazes. So instead Boromir tried to keep up the Hobbits’ spirits by telling them of the snow men he and his brother had build in the past and the epic snow battles they held.

As was custom, Aragorn couldn't help but listen, smile stretching over his face as the image of a young Boromir, already thinking himself a great Captain, leadinga charge in the snow came to his mind.

Soon the Hobbits’ slept, but the two men could not rest, for they feared that if they did not keep watch, their fickle lives would slip through their fingers.

So they sat in the cold of the mountain, counting the hours until the snow let up enough to turn back, a tactical retreat as Boromir called it. He also spoke again of going through the Gap of Rohan and again Aragorn had to refuse.

“The Gap is too dangerous a road to take now, Boromir,” he said.

“And this is not dangerous? Was it not folly to try this mountain? We are snowed under and our Ring-bearer might not make it through. Was this not a mistake?” Boromir countered. “And what other road can we take?”

Aragorn understood Boromir’s frustrations. From a tactical standpoint it would seem wise to seek out allies, for their road was already full of perils and a place to replenish strength would be a good place in the eye of any captain.

But they did not know how far the hand of Saruman had reached in those lands and they could not risk exposing more hearts to the clutches of the Ring. It would be unwise to think they would be safe in those lands.

Now just to make Boromir see that.

“Our road is dangerous, yes,” Aragorn said. “And this was a risk we should not have taken, but the Gap of Rohan is a risk we cannot take also. Saruman has betrayed us and it is not worth it to test how well he protects his borders.”

“I do not hear you offer another road. We also cannot risk staying on this side of the Misty Mountains. We have to cross.”

Aragorn had no answer to that, but he did not have to, for Gimli answered: “There is another road that we can take. We can go through the Mines of Moria.”

Both looked up in surprise. They had not realized anyone was listening to their conversation and having the private moment broken up startled them. So they said nothing as Gandalf replied: “I have told you before, Master Dwarf, that I hope to avoid that passage, but it will be up to the Ring-bearer to decide.” And both stayed silent after those words.

The next morning Frodo decided their fate and Boromir and Aragorn busied themselves with clearing a path back through the snow.

Neither said a word to the other, both too exhausted by their labor and unwilling to talk. Though, much to his dismay, Aragorn found himself getting distracted by Boromir doing his part and would sometimes have to be snapped back to work when Boromir looked his way.

Still, they made it off the Caradhras and safely down to the entrance Gandalf did not agree with, which made Aragorn uneasy, though he tried not to show it.

His unease was validated by the Watcher, lurking in the water. Yet, he was glad, for it was Boromir at his side when he charged and he knew Boromir would not falter in the face of this danger and have his back.

And in the darkness of the Mines, it was Boromir once more that eased his mind. He was there with him as they walked through thepitch black and while Gandalf had urged them to be quiet, it was the familiar steady footfalls of Boromir that kept Aragorn focused on the road ahead.

They had not spoken again since the Caradhras peak, but despite Aragorn’s attempts to avoid any lone conversation, it was during his watch that Boromir came to him once more. He was aware that Boromir used strategy of trapping him while on watch and he couldn't help but smile at the tactic solution Boromir had for such a simple thing.

“First you have been looking at me, then you have been avoiding me. I do not know what I have done to earn your suspicions, but any ill willed accusations you have of me, say out loud, for I am not welcoming of this backhanded wariness.”

Again, it would seem, Boromir had misinterpreted his gazes and again Aragorn found himself having to choose between Boromir’s hurt or opening a bit of his heart. It was an easy choice to make.

“I do not distrust you, Boromir. You are a dependableally and I am grateful for your presence.”

“Then why do you avoid me? Why do you first stare only to avert your gaze a moment later? You smile at me only to fight me then evade me after. What am I to think of that?”

Aragorn was glad for the darkness, for he did not think he could have lied, if he had seen Boromir’s gaze restheavily on him. And he did not think he could have been honest, when looking into those piercing eyes.

“It is not easy, Boromir. I might become a King one day, but I do not wish for that to be my fate, for my blood is that of a weak man, who gave in to corruption. Yet it seems that I am the one of my bloodline that is to reclaim the throne. It is difficult for me to know how to act around you and getting a glimpse of who my people are, is confusing at times.”

Boromir was quiet, the words churning in his head. The he hesitantly said: “Are you judging our people based of me? Am I an assessment to decide if you’ll go through with you destiny? Because I care not for being a pawn, when you have done nothing to protect Gondor and her beauty.”

This was not how Aragorn had envisioned thisconfrontation to go. His mind scrambled for something to say, so that he would not lose the companionship he had with Boromir. In that moment he cursed his cowardliness that had made him lie and not tell Boromir the truth.

“No, Boromir. No, that was not my intent with my words. I- Let me think how to explain,” he begged. “I hold you in high regard, but I know you do not wish to see me on the throne of Gondor. If more think like you, then I do not see why it is my destiny to take a throne no one wants me to have. I know not what you think of me nor how I am to act around you and it seems my attempts to try and figure it out have not been as subtle as I had hoped,” he finished helplessly.

Again Boromir was quiet and Aragorn braced himself for whatever reaction he would get from the Captain. Then, softly at first, then a bit chocked as Boromir tried to quiet himself, he started to laugh.

Relief washed over Aragorn at the first sounds of the joyful giggles, though confusion was on his mind for he knew not what humor Boromir found in his explanation.

“I- I apologize,” he finally got control of himself. “There is no humor in your attempts to try and better understand your position in the world. I merely find amusement in how we manage to misinterpret one another yet again. And the fact that a skilled Ranger such as yourself has difficulty with the subtlety of signs, you would think came normally.”

The latter part was obviously a jest and Aragorn found himself flushing at the teasing, once again grateful for the darkness that cloaked him.

He chuckled as well and said: “It would seem so. The tracks of people’s faces are quite different than those of animals in the ground.” Then he got serious once more. “I do not know, if I’ll fare well in a court with my skills.”

“I think you’ll fare as well as any man,” Boromir said. “Maybe even better. If you truly want to know my thoughts, then I think you have much to learn, or maybe much to show you already can do, before you are ready.”

“Aye?” While it had not been his primary reason, now that Boromir was offering, he was curious for any input to the other issues that had been plaguing his mind.

“It is clear that you are a great warrior, though I have not yet seen you in a proper battle, nor with men under your command. I have not seen you negotiate, though I have seen at the Counsel that you are willing to listen to those with expertise. I know not how you will be with the people of Gondor, nor that you know of her customs, but you seem to listen to my tales, so there must be a willingness to learn,” said Boromir. “For now, you are too much on an unknown, who has not been there for Gondor in her darkest days. I cannot judge you wholly, but you have earned my respect and I am also grateful for your presence.”

Aragorn thought that a just assessment. He had told Boromir that he did not expect blind following when he had done nothing to earn it and it would be fair to say that Boromir did not need to see him as King until he had proven himself worthy of the title.

“Thank you for telling me, I will try my best to get ready for the burdens that come with a title I might one day carry,” he said. “It is good to have you here, Son of Gondor.”

He could not see Boromir smile, but the bump of their shoulders was friendly and it was audible in his voice when he spoke: “You’re as much a Son of Gondor as I am, Aragorn, but I still welcome your efforts. I will not gift my City lightly.”

“Will you tell me more of her people?” Aragorn asked. He was not sure if the question came from genuine interest or because he wanted to please Boromir and liked listening to his stories.

Still the gesture was appreciated. “I will, but only if you promise to tell me more about yourself. I am quite curious about the Ranger of the North that dwelt in Elven courts.”

And to that, Aragorn agreed. There in the darkness of the Mines of Moria, with no other indication of the other beside light touches and the warmth that the other radiated, they talked softly.

Boromir told him of the markets, the people of the lands, the Lords in their mansions and the soldiers when in their barracks. In every word he spoke, Aragorn could hear the fierce love Boromir held for his people. He heard how Boromir was not just a prince in a castle, but a man of the people, who loved him dearly for that. He got swept up in Boromir’s tales and a part of him wanted to see the City as Boromir described it, instead of the one he had seen long ago.

Aragorn supplemented Boromir’s stories with tales of his own. Small stories of the people of Bree and his fellow kinsmen, who protected the North. It was easy to talk to Boromir as he had long since discovered. Boromir was approachable and likable.

In fact, it was hard to keep much from him. It was as if he subconsciously interrogated you, easing your mind while asking probing questions. And Aragorn found himself wanting to tell Boromir the less than proper thoughts that had been on his mind.

“Boromir, I-” He did not finished the sentence, unsure of what to say. ‘Boromir, I actually have been in love with you since Rivendell? I thought you were merely attractive at first, but you’re also kind and I cannot help but fall for you? I’m afraid to become King, because then it would be more stupid for me to love you?’

It seemed he had been quiet for too long, for Boromir inquired: “Aragorn?” with concern tinting his voice.

“Oh, uhm, well-” he started out once more, mind torn between telling Boromir it was nothing or confessing. He never got to choose, because the sound of a stone falling into the well came from behind them and soon the armies of Moria were upon them.

They fought, they won, they ran, they lost.

Gandalf fell and for a while grief and getting further was all that Aragorn could think off. Boromir was on his radar, but more as someone to keep everyone going and watch the rear as Aragorn now had to lead.

It was much later, in Lothlórien that they even considered talking normally again.

“Take some rest. These borders are well protected.” Aragorn did not like Boromir’s posture, normally so proud and tall, now miserable. He wanted to ask what was plaguing his mind, but he did not dare for it was not his place.

“I will find no rest here,” said Boromir, stubborn set of jaw, yet anxious in his speech. “I heard her voice inside my head. She spoke of my father and the fall of Gondor. She said to me ‘even now there is hope left.’ But I cannot see it.”

Aragorn’s heart clenched for the utter hopelessness that was in Boromir’s voice and he wondered what had happened that had made Boromir so distrustful in the hope of others.

“It is long since we had any hope. My father is a noble man, but his rule is failing and our people loose faith.” It was clear Boromir was partially talking to himself and needed someone to listen to him more than someone to talk with, “He looks to me to make things right and- and I would do it. I would see the glory of Gondor restored.”

The burden that Boromir carried was clear, though he seemed to cover it up by want. As if he was proud for the weight on his shoulder, not willing to acknowledge that it was too much and Aragorn did not know how to ease it.

Boromir took a breath. “Have you ever seen it, Aragorn? The White Tower of Ecthelion, glimmering like a spike of pearl and silver, its banners caught high in the morning breeze. Have you ever been called home by the clear ringing of silver trumpets?”

“I have seen the White City. Long ago.” Aragorn sensed that Boromir needed a bit of familiarity, someone, who could understand his home. While Aragorn was not wholly that person, he longed to be it, so he tried.

“One day, our paths will lead us there and the tower guard shall take up the call: The Lords of Gondor have returned.” There was again that glimmer in Boromir’s eyes when he spoke of his home and Aragorn’s heart gave a fond beat, wanting to keep that look there. “One day we will,” he agreed, “but it might not be for many months that we may do so.”

Boromir looked desolate again. “No, it might not be.”

“Hold your head high, Lord Steward. Our road may not lead to Minas Tirith, yet we do serve her and her protection,” he said. “You’ll see your home in due time.”

“Aye, you are right, Aragorn. Still, my heart tells me that I will not see my home as it is now ever again and my fears would have me believe that the next time I see it, it will be in ruin,” Boromir confessed. “There is not much else to think now that our wisest member has fallen. What chance is there to succeed now?”

While he had not dared to ask what was plaguing Boromir’s mind, the man had offered up the answers himself. Now Aragorn was left with a raw soul that he could not soothe. He could only offer platitudes. “We will try our best to do what we set out to do,” he replied, knowing it was nothing.

“That is your answer? We’ll walk into our death, for there is no other road you’ll consider?” Boromir asked, bitter anger dripping from his tongue. “What more do we have to loose before you realize this is folly?”

On a rational level he could understand that this anger came from the grief of losing Gandalf, but his mind was not ready for the rational and he snapped back: “I am not a punching bag for your grief, Boromir, son of Denethor. I know your opinionsand just because you are hurting over the loss of Gandalf, does not mean that I am not. I miss him, he was my friend. But he is gone now and I will see his will through to the end, no matter how much I love yo-”

He cut himself off, eyes becoming big as he had realized the revelation that had plunged from his lips in his moment of upset. He had never meant to tell Boromir. He had decided so when the darkness claimed their leader. There was too much to loose and he could not risk getting more attached. It was only grief fueled anger that made him confess.

“…Aragorn.” Boromir had equally wide eyes as he reached out to him, but his fingers never touched the arm that was quickly retreated, for Aragorn fled.

Behind him Boromir called out again, but his attempts to follow were made in vain, since Aragorn was more familiar in Elven lands and his longer legs with long strides carried him away. He could not believe how foolish he had been, nor how he would face Boromir or the rest of the Fellowship again.

Swiftly he walked through strange, yet comforting woods, until a small alcove hid him from prying eyes that would notjudge his tears to be from something other than grief.

Today he had made another mistake to go upon his list of regrets. Boromir did not love him, he was still on trial to become a King, love would not be considered by Gondor’s favourite Son. It was but a wishful dream in his mind and now he would have to endure the rest of this quest, with painful distance and obvious rejection.

It hurt more than he had expected, even if he had prepared himself for loving in silence. Not knowing if it could ever be, was less hurtful than knowing that even if everything had been different, it still would not come to pass.

He curled up into himself, reminiscent of hiding in the halls of Rivendell when he had been upset as a boy.

Of course, in Rivendell Arwen or Elrond or even Elladan or Elrohir would come find him and cheer him up, but there was no one to cheer him up here. He was all alone once more and the crushing loneliness had never felt more prominent.

He had not wanted to tell Boromir, for he feared he’d get too attached that it would cloud his judgment. However, a part of him had known it was too late and he was already attached to the smile of Gondor’s finest. Now, he just had to bear the fact that the smile had never been for him at all.

Why had he let his emotions get the better of him? He should know better as Isildur’s heir, he should have learned that desiring something did not mean he got to keep it. Was he not meant to learn from the mistakes of his forebears?

What if this ruined the quest? What if his mouth got them all in trouble and the rift between him and Boromir would never truly heal? What if Boromir would not have his back anymore, now that he knew what was in Aragorn’s heart?

Aragorn let himself linger in the halls of doubt that were inside his mind, never realizing that he had never confirmed his rejection before he fled.

So it came to be that familiar footsteps broke Aragorn out of his exile of self-pity when it was already far too late to turn back. He still attempted to do so, but before he could flee, a heavy hand stopped him in his tracks. “Please stay for a moment, Aragorn.”

And Aragorn stayed, for he had not yet mastered the art of saying no to Boromir on the little things regarding himself.

He sat Aragorn back down onto his seat and took the one next to it. Boromir was quiet for one antagonizing moment, before in an unsure voice he spoke: “I do not know if it was but a trick you are playing on me, but your reaction to your own words seemed genuine enough that I am inclined to believe them to be true. Would that be correct, Aragorn?”

Boromir stayed quiet and it became clear to Aragorn that he was indeed waiting for an answer. After a moment’s hesitation, Aragorn softly confessed: “Aye.”

“Then why did you run?” Boromir asked.

Aragorn snapped his head his way and fixed Boromir with a glare. “Do you really have to ask?”

“Aye, I want to understand, Aragorn.” Why did he have to sound so earnest?

“Because, I might become your King one day, Boromir. Because you would have to choose whether you shall obey me or defy me, while you know not whether you shall accept me as a King at all. I cannot expect my feelings to be reproached when you still need to judge my worth. Not to mention the dangers of the road. I cannot love you only to loose you, Boromir.”

Once he had started speaking, he found it hard to stop and Boromir listened attentively as was his custom. For once Aragorn did not know whether he was grateful for the quality or if he wished Boromir would shut out the too honest words.

When all the words that had been bottled up inside him had deserted him, he breathed heavily and awaited Boromir’s response.

“You are a fool, Aragorn.” At this Aragorn winced. “You are a fool to think that I would judge my King by the same standard as my lovers. You have earned my respect long ago, my affections maybe earlier. And I am not of the kind that will do something against their will. As I offer myself to you, know that I mean it wholly.”

Aragorn looked up in shock and Boromir chuckled at his face. “Yes, Aragorn. I never indented to act upon it, but it is hard not to fall for your charm. The tales of your exploits in Lord Elrond’s Halls make me smile fondly and your tracking skills make me awe. You also are closer to being my King than you believe, I just wish to see Gondor in good hands. I hope you can forgive me for that.”

“Of course.” It was easier to react to the part least concerned with his heart while his mind spun to incorporate this new information. “I- I can’t- I can’t loose you, Boromir,” he repeated.

“I know, Aragorn. I know,” Boromir said. “It would kill me to see you gone as welland I know not how to proceed from here. I would have you as mine, if the time was so not dark and the hour not so pressing.”

He leaned his shoulder against Aragorn’s and Aragorn rested his head upon it, his hand clasping Boromir’s. If he could be granted a wish, he would have wished to be in that moment forever, his body warm against Boromir’s as he thought. Secure that in the quiet, Boromir loved him.

Then he slowly moved to loosen the clasp of his necklace, before gently gifting it to Boromir’s neck, fastening the clasp with tenderness. “This was given to me by Arwen,” he explained. “It is so that I would not forget the Elven Halls that were my home.”

“Aragorn, I cannot take this,” protested Boromir.

“It is mine to give to whom I will, like my heart. And Igive this to you as a promise,” Aragorn pressed on. “I promise that I will try to see this quest through alive and keep you alive through it also. I swear by this that once our land is safe, we can try to see what can happen between us in times of peace.”

There were tears pricking in Boromir’s eyes, for he knew Aragorn was right. While they were on this quest, they had not the time to act upon the affection between them, save the conversations that were already commonplace and their bedrolls besides one another.

He grasped the Evenstar brooch softly in his hand. “I swear to live to see your promise to me fulfilled.” Then he smiled and his face became less formal. “Still, I hope you’ll allow me one kiss, before we start our agreement.”

That Aragorn could most certainly agree to and he leaned in closer waiting for Boromir to close the gap between them. His lips were chapped, yet soft. They pressed firmly against Aragorn’s, but they did not demand more than Aragorn could give as his tongue swiped over his bottom lip, asking for permission to deepen the kiss.

It was a permission, Aragorn granted eagerly and he was swiftly carried away by a gentle hand cupping his cheek, while the other clutched at his clothes. He lost his breath in the kiss, yet he had never felt more alive.

When it was over and Boromir pulled away, he had to gather his wits about himself for a moment. As he did so, Boromir smiled: “That is one memory to keep me walking on long roads ahead. We should head to dinner now though, I do not think Pippin will forgive us, were we to miss a meal now that we have it. Hobbits are quite peculiar about food.”

Aragorn remembered four Hobbits wanting to stop for a second breakfast, now already ages ago and smiled. He would not let go of the memory of the kiss either, but he knew better than to linger on it while they emotionally could not. Instead he agreed: “They very much are,” before leading the way through winding paths.

At dinner it was only Legolas, who noticed the jewel now sitting on Boromir’s neck and raised a brow at Aragorn, who shook his head softly, urging the Elf not to ask.

And so they lived with the knowledge of a potential future held close in their heart. It might be war, but was war not the place for love? For if there was no love in war, who did they fight for?

The only indication of their newfound closeness that was kept platonic for the sake of the quest was their bedrolls that found their waycloser to each other when they camped on the shores and watchesspend together, gazing at the stars and the eyes of the other.

Yet not all things that were good, were meant to last. The darkness was ever growing and no matter the love Boromir held in his heart for Aragorn, he had long since learned that his duty came first. Andthe voice of the Ring had twisted that love for his people into something ugly beyond recognition.

Still Aragorn had not yet accepted the gleam in Boromir’s eyes as corruption, perhaps blinded by love and unwilling to accept it as something other than the proud stubbornness he knew the other man held as well, perhaps it was the Ring influencing him to be blind.

No matter their affections, there were points they fundamentally disagreed on. “Minas Tirith is the safer road. You know that. From there we can regroup. Strike out for Mordor from a place of strength.”

Aragorn pictured the Ring surrounded by hearts that had been corrupted like Isildur’s, the land that had been the origin of the weakness in his own blood. “There is no strength in Gondor that can avail us.”

“You were quick enough to trust the Elves,” Boromir shot back and Aragorn said nothing, while rolling his eyes mentally, willing Boromir to see his point of view. “Have you so little faith in your own people? Yes, there is weakness. There is frailty. But there is courage also, and honor to be found in Men. But you will not see that.”

In that moment Aragorn found himself becoming irrationally angry yethe did not want to snap at Boromir, even if he bristled at Boromir judging him to be less of his perception of men, when he already judged him if he was worthy of a throne he had not asked for. How much more judgment would Boromir need to pass on him?

However, Boromir was not done with him yet and gripped his tunic, his touch for once not comforting, but aggressive. “You are afraid! All your life, you have hidden in the shadows.” And Aragorn was trying not to react as he let Boromir rave. “Scared of who you are, of what you are.”

With that Aragorn wrenched himself free. He was not listening to this. He was trying so hard and Boromir knew that, Boromir knew what was stopping him, what scared him. He was being viscous on purpose.

He began to stalk off, but a small dark voice whispered in his mind to snap, to make Boromir feel that hurt pit in his chest that Aragorn felt now. “I will not lead the Ring within a hundred leagues of your City.”

That night their bedrolls were on opposite sides of the camp and neither held the other company during their watch. They did not speak the next day either.

As they peddled he did not look at Boromir, though his eyes wanted to stray over to see if the Son of Gondor was safe still. He fought it. While he might have said things to hurt, it had been Boromir who started the confrontation and took it too far. It had always been Aragorn apologizing or explaining himself on this journey and he would not be the one now.

So with clenching heart he kept to himself, hoping that this would not unmake whatever chance they had at an us.

“Where’s Frodo?”

Merry’s words snapped him out of his despairing thoughts and his eyes scannedthe campsite for their Ring-bearer. Instead of a Halfling, they fell upon an abandoned shield and a cold wave washed over him as he realized what it had been that made Boromir unnecessarily cruel yesterday.

When he found the Ring-bearer, his words made the cold that was already upon him, burrow into his bones and flow through his veins. Would Boromir ever recover from the corruption of the Ring or would he never again be the man Aragorn met and fell for?

It were not questions he had the time to ponder, because Uruk-hai were marching ever closer and he had to ensure he would see Frodo to safety for as long as he could. Still, he could not help but think of his promise to Boromir as he tried to stay alive on the hills of Amon Hen.

As he was driven back Legolas and Gimli joined him and he looked back frantically for Boromir, fear clouding his heart as he envisioned an out of his mind Boromir, encountering Frodo aloneonce more, or even the other Hobbits alone and unprotected.

Then a loud horn blow echoed over the hills and another outcome he had not considered gripped his heart and twisted it. It was undoubtedly Boromir’s horn, the same horn he had blown when they left Rivendell for he refused to be a thief in the night. The horn that meant Boromir was in trouble too large for him to handle on his own, while they were with three.

A new vigor he did not know he possessed settled intohis soul as he ripped through the forces of the enemy, trying to reach the sound in time.

Boromir had multiple arrows in his chest and a large Uruk-hai pointing a killing shot at his face when Aragorn arrived.

Laterhe could not tell how he got there, but soon he found himself dropping down next to the body ofBoromir, eyes filled with unshed tears and a thousand apologies upon his lips. If only he had talked to Boromir, if only he had seen, if only he had paid attention.

Still as he laid there, it was his Boromir. He knew that no Ring could ever care about the well being of the Fellowship, especially the Hobbits, the way Boromir haddone. And even if he laid there, pierced by many arrows, he said: “They took the little ones.”

It was not Aragorn’s concern for now, as he desperately tried to staunch the bleeding of too many wounds.

“Frodo?” Boromir was panicked, which was not helping his condition. “Where is Frodo?”

“I let Frodo go.” Aragorn would not lie to him in what might be his final moments. He squashed the thought, but it was still prominent in his mind.

“Then you did what I could not.” It was a laboring speech, lungs filling with blood. “You need not worry about your blood, for it was I, who was weak and gave into corruption. I tried to take the Ring from him.”

His words about Isildur reflected back at him in this moment soundedout of tune in his ears and he cursed himself for giving Boromir the idea that he was ever weak. Aragorn knew he had not been free from the Rings voice and it was mere luck that saved him from being its main target. “The Ring is beyond our reach now.”

“Forgive me. I did not see… I have failed you all.”

Aragorn hated to see Boromir like this. He had always been so sure of himself, relishing his history with the pride of a man, who valued his honor. He would not let him lie there and speak ill about himself, not while he was still breathing. “No, Boromir. You fought bravely. You have kept your honor.”

He could not let it end like this. He would not let it end like this. They both made a promise and the jewel on Boromir’s neck was a token of this. He would not allow this to be the end of the tale of Boromir the Bold.

While he did not have much, he made the best attempt to bind the wounds, but it was a foolish attempt and cloth colored deeply and fast.

“Leave it! It is over… the world of Men will fall and all will come to darkness and my City to ruin… Aragorn…”

No, Boromir could not give up on Gondor. Aragorn knew the hope had been fading from Boromir’s heart for many years, but not a day ago he was telling him about the courage and honor of Men and when he spoke of the White City, he only spoke with love. Aragorn would not let him die, thinking all he loved was lost. “I do not know what strength is in my blood, but I swear to you… I will not let the White City fall, nor your people fail…” It was an oath he intended to keep.

“Our people,” Boromir corrected. “Our people.” And Aragorn could cry. He had stopped trying to tend to the wounds, but this made him try again. He could not give up on Boromir after he had given him so much of himself.

Still, when Boromir’s hand reached for his sword, he helped him even if he knew why the other reached for it. He chocked through the blood his final words: “I would have followed you, my love… my Captain, my King.”

And then Boromir was no more.

For a moment the world did not move. All was silent around him as he looked upon the fair and quiet face before him.

A bout of aggression came over him and he shook the limp form of Gondor’s favourite Son as he cried and raged. “You promised me you’d live. I promised you that I would protect you. I command you to live, Boromir. Do not make me an oath breaker. Do not make me loose you… love, please, come back to me.”

No matter his rage or cracking voice, there was no reaction.

Aragorn suddenly felt far removed from the forest, the hills, the stench ofthe dead. He was floating above it, not grieving, but pausing, as if he could make the world rewind until it was right again if he just distanced himself enough.

From above he saw himself kiss the forehead of his beloved, the skin still warm under his lips as it had been in Lothlórien, yet completely alien. “Be at peace, Son of Gondor,” he whispered and left athelas on his wounds, even if he knew it would not bring Boromir back. It was a waste of resources to make him feel like he had done something for Boromir when he had failed him so.

Behind him Legolas and Gimli appeared, both seasoned warriors and understanding what had just happened to their comrade. They fell silent. Legolas knew what Boromir had meant to Aragorn and Gimli had most probably put the pieces together as well.

Softly Aragorn brushed the hair out of Boromir’s face and straightened the jewel on his chest, before taking the bracers of his arms and strapping them to his own. It felt fitting, a piece of his home in exchange for a piece of Boromir’s.

“They will look for his coming from the White Tower, but he will not return,” he said, swallowing hard.

Yet he knew what he had to do. They had not the time to bury Boromir like the Kings of old and Aragorn vowed he would return for him. If not to bury what was left of him, then to build a monument in his honor where he had fallen.

For now he had a promise to fulfill.

“Boromir did not die in vain. I will not let him,” Aragorn said. “While Frodo, Sam with him, is beyond our help, Merry and Pippin still need us. I will not abandon this Fellowship so easily. Take only what you must. We travel light. Let’s hunt some Orc.”

Within minutes they had ditched all that they must and were on the run, an hopeless rescue mission that was mind-numbing in the chase, while vital for Aragorn’s heart. He would not fail Boromir, he would win in Boromir’s name and be the best King he could be for their people.

What the three hunters did not know was the soft beat in Boromir’s chest, for he had not been an oath breaker and he could not disobey a command from his King. Brought back from the brink, he lay there with athelas keeping him on the edge of life.

They also did not know about an Elven group, hurrying down the river to answer the call of a horn that demanded aid.

The three hunters could not know that slowly Boromir was heaved into a boat, loosing his horn to the river as the Elves rowed him to their forest, where the one who could heal him resided, if he were to survive the trip.

So, they fought for a friend they thought dead.

~~

A/N:

Thisis not really based in canon, but I like the idea of Boromir talking during marches. It might have started as a way to ease the minds of the soldiers under his command, or just something to stave of the boredom and a habit he picked up after marching often.

Also I like the idea that Aragorn is a great King, who is v good at negotiation and stuff, but the moment it’s abt Boromir, he looses all chill and skills he has. He’s a gay disaster, ur honor and I love him.

It has not as much dialogue as I would like, but there seemed no place to fit it in and this style of story comes natural to me now and I am quite happy with it still :D

I tried really hard with Tolkien’s writing style and while some parts are better than others, I am happy with my attempt bc it was a bit of an experiment.

The title and chapter titles are from Hadestown, the number Promises, bc I have emotions about it.

[missdawnandherdusk]

once upon a flight

Draco X Reader (post war)

Summary: The Wizarding World earnestly searched for the newly discovered Heir of Gryffindor. After many failed attempts at the claim, McGonagall almost gives up hope, but sends off one final letter. Draco looking for a reason to clear his name has an ulterior motive to find you... that is until he meets you. 

A/n: So, as promised, an Anastasia AU that is frankly one of my favorite things in a while. For all intents and purposes Snape isn’t dead because this is my blog and my word is law. Also, this is about 10k words... so you’re welcome.

Long ago, Hogwarts was founded by four great wizards: Godric Gryffindor, Salazar Slytherin, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Helga Hufflepuff. The Slytherin heir was found centuries later in one Tom Riddle who became the greatest Dark Wizard of all time, only to be defeated by the great Harry Potter. Yet, the story of the heirs does not end there. The unfortunate demise of Helena Ravenclaw ended the lineage of the Ravenclaw house for she had no children. The Hufflepuff heir, Cedric Diggory was killed in the war by Voldemort. Only one heir remains, and their whereabouts are unknown to all, but sought after by most. Minerva McGonagall is keen on the discovery of this witch or wizard, the last true heir of Hogwarts, and perhaps the most powerful of them all. Only in the hands of the true heir, will Godric’s mighty sword come alive with magic once more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It’s a girl, raised muggle, in America,” Snape threw down the Daily Prophet. “This could be your chance,”

“My chance to what?” Draco huffed, running a hand through his hair before examining the paper. “Like a Slytherins could ever find this Gryffindor heir, let alone in muggle America,”

“But if you do,” Snape hinted, a smile curling on his lips. “It might clear your names,”

“Would you give that a rest?” Draco muttered, throwing the newspaper down of a very scared looking American girl. “Even if I do find this girl, why in the world would she trust me?”

“Because, she might have questions, and who is going to be there with the answers for her?” Snape raised an eyebrow.

Draco pondered the idea, then glanced at your photo in the paper in front of him. And he thought there perhaps might be a chance.

____________________________

“London?” I eyed the passport dubiously. “What long lost aunt wants me in London? And why did she show up now?” My fingers ran over the long letter explaining everything and nothing.

“Do you want to go or not?” Mrs. Greenwood asked. “Because I’ve got a lot of girl like you who’d kill for a chance at a family again.” Her snappy condescending voice wouldn’t be missed.

“Alright, alright. I’m going.”

I zipped my bag closed, folding the letter, and placing it in my bag with the plane ticket and passport. It was a long drive to the airport that was filled with people who all went about their business. I had never felt more lost. I read the letter again as I waited for my plane to arrive. Something proved magical about the parchment and inked letters. A style never used in a modern day. It gave me hope. Or an unsettling sense of dread.

“Excuse me,” His voice was polite and broke through the music of my headphones. It was his accent that caught me off guard. He was a brit.

“Yes?” I asked, taking out an earbud.

“You wouldn’t happen to know a Ms. McGonagall, would you? I’m supposed to be aiding her niece back to London,” I eyed him skeptically.

“Is that so?” I raised an eyebrow. “Alright pretty boy, tell me, what absolute stranger is going to trust a random brit who comes up to her claiming to know the name of someone that he could easily have read off the girl’s letter?” He seemed amused at my skepticism.

“I suppose you’re right,” The stranger didn’t seem cornered, however. His caviler didn’t waver. “What if I told this stranger that hypothetically I knew that her aunt wasn’t really her aunt but someone looking for her to be claimed as the heir to a school of magic?”

“Well, hypothetically, I’d probably laugh and call security,” I eyed the cop, whose gaze caught mine before flashing to the beautiful stranger before me.

“And if I proved to her that magic was real? Would this stranger believe me?” Danger lurked in his eyes.

I snorted. “If you can prove that magic is real, I’ll follow you anywhere buddy,” 

“Careful there stranger, you’re promising something you might not want to,” He warned.

“I think I know what I can handle pretty boy,”

Without another word, he took my hand, clasping it in his. Glancing around he slowly raised his hand away from my palm, where a flower began to bud and bloom from nothing, sparking in the fluorescent lighting. I wasn’t impressed.

“Nice trick, but I’m not convinced.”

The stranger laughed. “I should have known it would take more to convince you,” He ran a hand through his silvery blond hair, looking around, before his gaze settled back on me. “What if I told you that you could do magic?”

“I’d say you’re crazy and were back to calling security,” I went to walk away, I had enough time before my flight that a quick walk wouldn’t be the end of the world.

“But you must have felt it,” His hand reached for mine. “When you were younger, and things happened around you that you couldn’t explain. A sense that you didn’t belong. That you were different. That you could see and feel and do things that others couldn’t.” His words were earnest and urgent. I paused.

“And if I did?” I didn’t face him.

“That you hear stories of magic and fairytales, and you thought maybe you belonged in them because there was no one quite like you,” My eyes met his, baffled, curious. “And you felt it just now, not on the surface of your skin, but in your hand, in your blood, a feeling in your heart that felt right. That felt powerful,”

“Okay, pretty boy, you seem to know a lot about who you think I am, so what’s your deal?’ I folded my arms, still not completely convinced but more than curious.

“I told you, I’m here to help you get to London in one piece and how to be an heir of magic.” The light in his eyes glinted as if he had won.

“Alright, let’s say hypothetically I believe you, then what?”

“I’d buy you a cup of coffee and we’d try this again?” He raised an eyebrow, nodding to a chain Starbucks that was near dead in the early hours of the morning.

I stared at the chai tea latte that was warming my hands. He didn’t say a word. Draco. The beautiful stranger who promised answers. Who looked a bit too good to be true.

“From here, I get a letter for an aunt I didn’t know that I had, and a plane ticket to London. Then I met you, claiming that you know her and that you’re here to help me. Then you tell me that my aunt really isn’t my aunt, and that magic is real and I’m the heir to some sort of magic school in London? This is a really good way to get kidnapped and never heard from again,” My skepticism grew. He could see that.

“You’re not wrong,” He leaned onto the table, closer to me. “And you wouldn’t believe me unless you knew that magic was real.”

“Every lonely girl dreams of fairytales and magic,” I countered. “Is it so far-fetched to really believe it?”

“Believing sure,” He gave an easy smile. “But you can do magic and you know it,” 

“How do you know what I know?” I snapped back.

“I know you’re in denial,” He chuckled. “And easy, you’re doing it now, but no one could tell you that you were because it’s subtle and hard to pick up on,”

“In what way?” I demanded.

“Defense spell,” His smirk started the urge in me to deck him. He was so self-assured, and it drove me insane. What was worse, was that he might be right about everything.

“Sure, why not,” My tone fell flat. “Okay pretty boy, how exactly am I using a defense spell?” I leaned back in my chair, unamused.

“No one in this airport gave you any trouble. A strange man comes up to you and you show signs of distress, and yet no one helps you. You’re hiding yourself from their point of view. It’s very self-assured of you to think you can handle yourself,” His explanation made to much sense... again.

“I’m the self-assured one?” I muttered. “And sorry to burst your bubble English, but this is America and we all pretty much keep our heads down.”

“And yet the second you decided to trust me, the security guard walked the other way—away from his post I might add,” His confident smile didn’t leave.

“He... what?” Now I backtracked.

“You like to be left alone, I can admire that, but you have so much potential and you could do so much more,”

“And if I don’t want to?” I offered a bit hopeless.

“Sure, go be a faceless nobody in the sea of Americans, work a nine to five, and never see adventure or magic again in your life,” He leaned back in his chair, casual. As if what he offered was the option a rational person would choose.

“And I should trust you? To take me to London and bring me to this magic school to be an heir or whatever it is you Brits do?”

“You seem quite offset that I’m not American,” His amused smile returned.

“Force of habit,” I shrugged, giving a carefree smile that caused indignation to flicker into his eyes.

“Well, you have approximately thirty seconds to decide if you trust me before you’re called to board,” His devious smirk had me reeling to look at the gate and the flight attendant who was ruffling through papers and getting ready to signal boarding groups.

“God, I hate you,” I muttered, resigned. “Fine. Whatever. Life of adventure and magic, sure.”

We boarded and Draco took the seat akin to mine in first class without the bat an of eyelash. My anxiety began to flare again thinking of how easy it was for him to find a place next to me on a full flight to London in the early hours of the morning.

Then there was the matter of flying altogether. I had never been on a plane ride before. And I was about to be on a nine-hour flight with a supposed magician and a promise of adventure. What had I gotten myself into?

“I can hear you worrying.” Draco muttered as the plane left the runway and began to ascend.

“I’ve never flown in a plane before in my life. All things considered, I think I’m allowed to worry,” I snapped.

Draco reached into his bag and held out a small vial filled with an amber liquid.

“Here, take this,” He offered it to me.

“Oh, you’ve got to be joking,” I snorted. “There is no way in hell that I’m taking that.”

“Y/n, please,” It was the first time that he had ever used my name. A name I hadn’t told him. A name he knew. A name that got my attention and reminded me of the situation that I was in.

“What is it?” I took the vail from his nimble fingers.

“Anxiety potion,” He explained calmly. “It will calm your stress levels and allow you to think clearly,”

“Magic?” I eyed him dubiously.

“A form of it. Your people call it chemistry, but we have access to more ingredients than the causal muggle,”

“Muggle?” I raised an eyebrow, still examining the contents of the small vial.

“People who can’t do magic nor live with other wizards,”

“Wizards,” I mused softly to myself.

The pilot informed the cabin that we had reached cruising altitude and my anxiety came back, overshadowing the tales of wizards and magic and the perfect stranger beside me. Draco could sense that. He let out an aggravated huff and rolled his eyes.

“Use your senses Y/n, you don’t know how to control it yet, but you have magic in your blood. It’s kept you alive and ahead this long. What are they telling you? Not your fears and anxiety, but your heart and head.” His voice was low and urgent, and I had to concentrate to catch all of his words.

“This isn’t another one of your—”

“Y/n,” He pressed, not having it with my second thoughts and doubts. “Concentrate.”

Deciding to trust him, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. The air around me was artificial and frigid. It made my senses stand keen on edge. It was unnatural to me. I could feel the people as they settled down for the long flight. The pilot shifting and the attendants flitting about. They were all overly ordinary. Like most people I had been surrounded with my entire life.

Then there was Draco beside me. I could feel his warmth, his presence... his aura. Unlike anything I had encountered before. A halo of power and... magic that embraced and clung to the edges of him. It matched the silvery blue of his eyes trailing off into green. I could trust him. But there was a darkness underneath that I couldn’t trust. The one that I feared.

Then the vial clasped between my fingers. It held no ill will toward me as I thought of it. It promised to help in words that didn’t belong to Draco beside me. Something all of it’s own. All of my own.

Another deep breath out. 

“Okay,”

“What did you gather?” He didn’t taunt me, but rather it was genuine curiosity that colored his tone.

“You’re... different. From the rest of the people on this plane. You... there’s like... an aura? A feeling but with color? I don’t know...” My eyebrows furrowed. “It told me I can trust you... but there’s something darker underneath... and I’m not sure... I’m not sure I trust that darkness.”

He stared at me, baffled. Not that I had said what I said, but instead what I had said. 

“The... the darkness.” He muttered. “I thought...”

“That you could hide it?” I raised an eyebrow, only half teasing. We all had darkness. I wouldn’t hold his against him.

“That there would be more... the things I’ve done,” He was a burning man before me. I looked down to the vial in my hands. I toyed with it.

“Here’s to new beginnings?” I offered a bit hopeless, breaking the wax seal and downing the contents like a parched man in a desert who comes upon an oasis.

And I understood what he meant. A pack of stress and the ability to think clearly. All of the fogginess that the anxiety induced was gone. I looked at the world around me with new eyes.

“Woah,” I whispered, looking at Draco clearly for the first time.

A smile played at his lips.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?”

I nodded and looked out at the grey and blue beneath the plane. Closing the shade, I turned to Draco as much as the first-class seat would allow.

“So magic?”

“Where do you want me to start?” He was expecting my question. 

“The beginning is a good place,”

“We’d be here forever,” Draco chuckled. “I’ll start at the beginning of what would be your story though”

I marveled at his words. Two worlds divided but always existing beside each other. Sometimes they would intertwine sometimes they would be forgotten. He spoke of being raised in such a negative perspective of muggles and the life I led, putting me on edge until he gave a placid smile and an apology. His tale turned darker with the war that was fought and a hope that was lost and found again.

“Potter,” Draco’s tone snarled around the name.

“Harry Potter,” I mused. “So why can’t he be the heir of this Gryffindor whoever?”

“Like that would help his ego any,” Draco muttered flatly. “And he can’t because he’s a half blood. The heirs are pure blood wizards, not a drop of Muggle blood in them,”

“Okay...” my brows knit together. “But how does that explain me? They told me my mother was... and my father walked out on her. She died giving birth to me,”

“Back in the early days of the first war, I can only assume your parents were against the Dark Lord which gave them their death sentence. Especially if he knew you were the heir of Gryffindor,”

“But I’m not dead,” I pointed out.

“Seems that way,” Draco gave me an amused smirk. “They must not have known you existed. And seeing as you were raised in America, I came see why they—no one knew. Not until recently anyway.”

“But how did they find me? How did you find me? How did this letter even find me?” 

“Would you accept magic as an answer to those three questions?” Draco tried.

“Sure, but I’m still creeped out,” I folded my arms. “Heir to a school of Magic...” I pondered the words aloud for the first time. “What does that even mean? What am I supposed to do with it?”

“Whatever you want,” Draco shrugged.

Our conversation pulled after that into almost nothing. I closed my eyes once more and began to feel the world around me through my newfound sixth sense. It became overwhelming after a few moments but when homing in on Draco’s presence quelled some of that overstimulation. His aura was calming, as if it were a foreign lullaby to my heart. A lullaby that lulled me to sleep before long.

But a darkness lingered still in my dreams. It was alien. Not what I had seen in Draco and not what I knew was within me. Something else. An evil presence that yearned to be free. To take control. To have power. It wanted me. It was suffocating. It dragged me down. Down. Down. Draco felt further away. The plane, it’s passengers, nothing but specks. The darkness dragged me forward. Red eyes stared me down and a smile full of knifes taunted me.

I struggled back, away from the evilness, trying to break free of the darkness but I was trapped. By back was against a wall. There was no escape.

A flicker of silver caught my attention. Bright and beautiful. A ray of hope. My eyes dared to leave the shadow figure to follow that ray. When I saw it again it because more clear. The wisps of a dragon made of pure light. It did not come for me, rather it showed me the way out.

There was a way out.

I gasped, my eyes fluttering open to see the glow of fluorescent lighting and worried grey eyes. 

“What—that—who—” I sputtered, my heart racing.

“Are you okay?” His genuine concern called to me. I nodded, tears stinging my eyes.

“What was that Draco?”

“I don’t know,” From his tone I knew that he did not like not knowing. “But you’re safe now,” The comfort of his arms around me made me believe his words more than I thought I would. “We’ll land in a couple hours, just try to relax,” His tone was soft, something new.

The grey dim of London didn’t impress me. I squinted up at the misting rain. Draco took my hand and led me through the maze of the airport, gathering our bags and ushering me toward an empty alley way.

“Draco,” I warned, not enjoying the situation.

“Just hold tight to me and don’t touch the edges,” He instructed. “Don’t let go of your bag either,”

“What? Why?” I broke away from him, to his annoyance.

“Can’t you just do what you’re told? No questions asked?” He seemed to be asking the sky more than he was asking me. I gave him a flat look. “It’s magic. It’s called apperating. It’s going to feel weird, but you should be fine.” He offered his hand to me again.

“Should be?”

“We don’t have time for this Y/n,” He stressed.

“Like hell we do,” I snapped.

“Fine, if you’re not fine then you have total permission to hit me, that make you feel better?” He demanded, insisting that I take his hand.

“No,” I mumbled, placing my hand in his.

That feeling of power was back when he took out a wand—his wand—and twirling it, before I could make fun of him, we were whisked away, and I had to remember to hold on. The distorted reality around me was so enticing to touch, as if it were an impressionist painting that replaced with the dingy grey around me. Then it stopped.

“Where are we?” The scenery changed, still a duller grey, but now in front of a large mansion that I had only seen in movies.

“Malfoy Manor,” Draco said curtly. “Come along,”

Taking a second to recover from the beauty that was all around me, I grabbed my bag and followed him inside where I gasped again. The house looked like something of those fairytales I had always dreamed about.

“Are you coming?” Draco asked promptly.

“I... do you live here!?” I scrambled after him up the stairs with my bag.

“Yes,” He didn’t understand my amazement. “Are you alright?”

“I’ve never been something this... beautiful before,” I turned back to look over the banister at the grand foyer. “You just... live here?”

“Yes,” Now there was a smile playing at his lips. “Come on, we’ve still got much to do,” 

“There’s more!?” I followed him up the stairs.

“You haven’t used magic in your entire life, and you think I’m gonna let you waltz in there scared and unprepared?” Draco snorted opening up a random door. “This will be your room. We have a couple days—it won’t be enough time but perhaps I can make you somewhat believable...”

“No one said anything about having to prove I was the heir!” I argued, again taken back by the lavish room but ultimately was overridden by my anger and fear. “Show up, sure! Maybe take a DNA test! But act like some wizard protégée!?”

“Witch,” He mended softly. “And we’ve got this under control,” 

“We?” I did not have this under control.

“Snape and I. He will be helping me help you. There’s a lot you need to learn. But for now, rest. Dinner is in an hour,” Closing the door he left me to my thoughts.

Sitting on the bed I looked around the room. Anxiety began to creep in my chest again, but not for the reason it had... this morning. Could it still be the same day? Could I have only met Draco a dozen or so hours ago? My thoughts were reeling.

“A witch, an heir,” I scoffed. “Magic,” it was more of a whisper.

I lifted my hand and remembering the power and golden feeling that had come when Draco created a flower in my palm, I surged for the magic within me. To my surprise, golden flames licked at my fingertips, shimmering in the evening light. A giddy laugh left my lips as I intensified the flame to consume my entire hand.

“He said you were a quick learner,” A stern and nasally voice drew me from my stupor.

My hand dropped and my flame fizzled out as I stood.

“I—uh,”

“I am Severus Snape. I am here to help you. It is in your best interest to do exactly as I say without any questions. Understood?”

“Uh... okay?”

“Dinner will be downstairs soon. Draco would like you to join us. There are clothes in the wardrobe. Change into something more suitable and come down.” His instructions left no room for argument, but my stubbornness flared, yet he left before I could snark a reply.

Mourning my sweater jeans and converse I headed to the elaborate wardrobe and opened the great oak doors to reveal an array of gowns, cloaks, and dresses. Together they were worth more than any amount of money I had come into contact with. And of much higher taste than I’d dare to ever wear.

Riffling through them there was a semi bearable dress that looked as if it were from the 1950s and held a navy-blue color. It would have to do, and it could have been worse. I eyed a heavy shimmering gown with pearls and lace, shuddering at the thought.

———————————————

Draco’s day could have been a lot worse than it ended up being. After finally giving in at Snape’s insistence that he fly back to England and not apparate he thought his day was a lost cause. But then he met you and Merlin were you a handful.

He could easily see the magic you were doing and the power you were giving off. It took a lot of his willpower to not submit and leave you alone, as your defense ordered. But as soon as your eyes met his and a smile played at your lips, he didn’t have to fight any longer. You allowed him to stay close to you, assured that he meant you no harm. No one had trusted him like that in years.

For the heir of Hogwarts, you were quite remarkable. An easy sorting into Gryffindor with or without the hat. He had to play his cards right however, to maneuver you into a world of magic from the mundane of America. But he accomplished the feat, easier than he would have thought done. Perhaps you were more than ready to leave your Muggle world and join his magic one. And not like he could blame you. If he never had to ride in a plane again, he’d do anything.

But just as he thought you were safe, your eyes closed in a peaceful slumber, something dark came back to hurt you. Red eyes that he knew well. How... how he didn’t know. But he could feel the cold evil presence seep into your skin and consume your aura. It terrified him. Draco knew you were defenseless. No amount of unintentional magic could keep the Dark Lord at bay, dead or alive.

So, he did something he never had before in a desperate attempt to protect you and him from that evil. He called his Patronus, touching his wand to your temple, willing it to go and pull you out.

Your eyes flashing open, fear written on your usual confident features, your hands digging into his arms, Draco’s heart churned in his chest. You looked to him for safety. Him—who you’d met barely five hours prior when you were sure he was there to kidnap you. And now you held to him like a prayer. He didn’t expect that. There was nothing else he could do but hold you close and assure you that it was going to be okay.

If you two could ever get off this godforsaken plane.

With touchdown, Draco wasted no time in dragging you by the hand through the throng of the Muggle airport before he lost his temper. In a secluded alley he was finally ready to apparate home. Of course, you had thoughts of your own and he really wasn’t about to fight with you on this. He just wanted to go home. So, he gave in. Just this once.

And Merlin he was thankful that he did. He had never been so happy to see the Manor. You had never seen a Manor before. He almost laughed at the childlike wonder on your face. But instead, he was enamored by it, the same way you were enamored by a house that had lost its shine to him over the years. Draco longed to see the mansion through your eyes even for a moment.

“Your mother wrote,” Snape offered a letter. “She’ll be here within a day,” Draco sighed and skimmed the letter. “Do you still think this is a good idea?” “It’s the best one we’ve got,”

Before Draco could argue, the clearing of your throat softly drew his attention. You had changed into one of his mother’s old dresses that he hadn’t seen in years and you looked quite sheepish about it. Draco stood, out of respect or perhaps startlement. Snape gave him a look which he promptly ignored, going over to you.

“I... I hope it’s alright,” You fiddled with the skirt. “He... he said I could—that I should...” 

“You look wonderful,” Draco encouraged softly. “Come, dinner is ready.”

He took your hand and led you through the large house, tuning out Snape’s instruction to you about how to hold yourself as you walked. Draco smiled at the annoyance in your eyes.

Dinner was... more or less a disaster. Your stubbornness met Snape’s instruction, getting you both nowhere.

“If you want to become the Heir of Hogwarts you will listen to me,” Snape almost snarled.

“I don’t want to become the heir!” You stood abruptly, throwing your cloth napkin onto the table. “I just want to know who I am!” Storming out of the dining room, Draco watched you, before sharing a look with Snape.

“She’s hopeless,” Snape muttered.

“You’re dealing with an American Gryffindor; did you think she was just going to sit still and look pretty?” Draco chuckled, standing.

It took him a while to find you. Draco could only fathom that you had gotten lost in the house yourself and winded up on a balcony somewhere on the third floor. You had a blanket draped around your shoulders as you stared up at the stars. The night had cleared, giving clarity to its pathfinders.

“I know what you’re going to say,” You spoke softly, sensing him nearby. “I... I can’t do this Draco. I’m not some lady, some long lost princess in some sort of fairytale. Magic or not...” You took a sharp breath in. “Fairytales are just stories. I’m still a girl with no parents, no family, no past... and no future.”

Draco studied you, wondering how you had changed so much from the confident self-assured girl he’d met this morning. He also had little clue what to say to cheer you up. So, he did what normally comforted him, he spoke fondly of his mother.

“My mother wore that dress,” He began softly, leaning against the door frame. “When I was young, before Hogwarts. Father would always be away on business. She’d take me to the garden, and we’d have a picnic. I remember her in that dress on those warm summer days,” Draco let his eyes slipped closed, lost in the memory. “She used to tell me that I’d never be alone. That as long as I could do magic, I’d always have a place to belong. That there would always be someone out there like me.” He paused. “Hogwarts was my home for quite some time. Slytherins were my family.”

“Who am I to come and claim it as mine then?” The words barely left your lips.

“You’ve been alone and away from your family for so long now. Don’t you think you deserve to go home? To a place that you belong?” You turned to face him, hope flickering in your eyes.

“But I—” You ran a hand through your hair nervously. “I’m never going to be good enough. Dinner was a disaster and I’m never going to please someone like Snape, let alone any other wizard!”

Draco couldn’t do anything but laugh. “No one can please Snape, darling. Don’t take that personally.” He sobered a bit. “You’ve never going to please everyone. Believe me I know. But... it’s more about becoming someone you’re proud of,”

“I don’t know who that is,” You turned back to the stars.

“If you run away, you’ll never know,” Draco mused, standing next to you, leaning on the railing. “But... if you truly can’t stand it in the next three days... I’ll take you back myself,”

You looked over to him, a swirl of emotions unidentifiable on your face. Before he could start to decipher even one of them, your gaze turned downward. He let out a soft sigh.

“If it’s any consolation,” Draco began. “I believe in you. I think you belong,” He turned to leave.

“Draco, wait,” You called out, “Thank you... I know... I know I’m a handful,”

A smile played at his lips. “That’s one way to describe you,”

You rolled your eyes, but you still didn’t smile and that worried him more than he cared to admit.

“I’ll take you back to your room,” He offered.

“I’m quite capable—” You cut yourself off and sighed. “Thanks, again,”

Staring at your closed door, Draco found himself wanting you back before him, so that he could continue to talk to you. He enjoyed it more than he thought. You didn’t fawn over him, nor did you fear him. Instead, you treated him as an equal. As a person.

“Oh, she looks like a kicked puppy!” His mother fawned the next morning. “Draco Lucius Malfoy I’ve taught you better!”

“It wasn’t me!” Draco argued back. “It was Snape!”

“Don’t you talk back to me young man!” She scolded. “Poor thing,” She turned to you, tucking a strand of hair out of your face. “There, there, I apologize for my son’s behavior,”

There was a look of bewilderment on your face at your gaze met his. He didn’t know what to do but shrug and shake his head.

“It... it really was Snape, Mrs. Malfoy,” you stammered out. “Draco’s been...” He met your eyes again and the words you were about to say died on your lips. Not this his mother noticed.

“Oh, don’t you worry about him!” She consoled, standing. “Severus Snape what have I told you about manners!” His mother shouted. Draco was grateful he was no longer the one being shouted at as his mother left to go and reprimand Snape some more.

“Your mother is...” you started a smile finding your lips. It was the first time you smiled since dinner last night.

“I should have warned you a bit more, that was my mistake,”

“No, she’s lovely,” You insisted.

“You don’t have to lie on my behalf,” Draco mused, earning a laugh from you.

“She really is wonderful,” Your laugh faded to a smile.

“You say that now, but if you thought Snape was a lot,” Draco laughed at the dread in your eyes.

His mother insisted they go to Paris to shop for you. A way to take your mind off yesterday, as well as find you the basics of wizardry. Which started with a wand.

“This is stupid,” You muttered as the shop keeper flitted about the hundreds of wand boxes, tittering in French to his mother.

“You need a wand,” Draco whispered back. “Every wand is unique, so there’s one for you,”

It took a few tries, and a few shattered light fixtures—and repairing spells—before you had a loyal wand in hand. Draco made sure that you could use the wand comfortably and surprised him by calling a lighting charm without the incantation... or him telling you to. He caught his mother’s eye who was clearly impressed with you. A new set of robes, what seemed like a new wardrobe entirely and a few books later, you seemed satisfied.

“I really can’t ask anything more of you,” You argued. “This is all more than enough,”

“Nonsense, darling,” His mother laughed. “Think nothing of it. Every great witch needs the tools to help her be successful,”

You blushed, looking down. “I mean it,” You tried again. “Even a trip to Paris would have been more than enough,”

“You’ve never been to Paris!?” His mother was aghast. You had really done it now. “Draco! Why didn’t you tell me the poor girl has never been to our city?” She turned to you. “You really must forgive his rudeness, I blame his father,”

“He—I—” You stammered.

“But I won’t have you here and not show you the wonders of the greatest city in the world. Come! Come!” She ushered you off and Draco had no choice but to trail behind and make sure you didn’t get into too much trouble.

After what seemed like days—though it was only hours filled with shows, attractions, museums, antique shops and more—his mother finally found a resting place, and by the look on your face and your slumped shoulders, you needed it. It was a rooftop restaurant that overlooked the city scape of Paris, off to the Eiffel Tower that lit up the night sky. You had that look of wonder and enchantment in your eyes again as you took in the city scape. Again. Draco wished he could see it through your eyes... for the first time all over again.

“She’s a pretty little thing, isn’t she?” His mother whispered in his ear, far from your earshot. “I’m surprised at you Draco. I’ve never seen you this way around another girl before,”

“She not just another girl mother,” Draco retorted, trying not to blush. “She’s the heir of Hogwarts. The Gryffindor crown princess.” He sighed softly. “She doesn’t have time for...”

“A handsome young man who’s been on his own for too long?” His mother mused. 

“A Slytherin,” He finished. “A Death Eater,”

“You’re no more a Death Eater than she is a muggle,” Narcissa said sternly. “I see the way she looks at you Draco,”

“Enough, mother,” Draco shook his head, pursing his lips. “Enough,” 

“Fine, fine,” His mother scoffed. “Y/n, darling!” She called.

This dinner was a bit more successful. You were animated with conversation and excitement from the day. There was a way that you spoke about his city that had his heart. Dinner lulled to wine and dessert as couples began to take the dance floor, gliding along to the live band.

“Do you dance darling?” His mother asked, noticing your interested.

“Uh, no, not really,” You stammered, looking sheepish as you blushed.

“Oh, that won’t do! Draco, go on, teach her!” Narcissa gave him a pointed look.

“No really it’s okay!” You refuted before he could.

“Nonsense, every girl must know how to dance, magic or no,” You could both sense that she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

So, he ended up with you in his arms on the dance floor as he tried to lead you through a simple waltz.

“You have to trust me,” He instructed, as your eyes met his. “I’m not going to let you fall,” His tone softened.

Your eyes didn’t leave his as you began to find your rhythm in the dance, letting him lead you through it all. Soon you were laughing with joy as he twirled you around the dance floor. He heart skipped a beat or two. The music ended before he wanted it to and a round of applause went up.

And Draco had to let you go. 

______________________________

I laid in bed that night, staring at the stars I had created with a simple spell. With the use of my wand, magic was... easy. If I thought and felt what I wanted, it occurred. Though it seemed like a natural process to me, Draco, and Narcissa—and even Snape—were impressed.

Staring regardless, I replayed the night over and over. Dancing with Draco... in Paris... on a rooftop like some sort of stupid fairytale. Whose ending didn’t belong to me. It was the one question I didn’t ask through Narcissa’s lessons. What happened to Draco and I after I had claimed my ‘throne’?

It left me sleepless.

“I can’t do this,” I whispered to him the next day, in front of the grand gates of Hogwarts.

My anxiety was through the roof. Clad in new formal robes, and hair and makeup perfected courtesy of Narcissa, all I had to do was walk in.

“We can still turn back,” Draco gave.

“I can’t do that either,” I muttered, causing him to laugh.

“I believe in you, Y/n,” His earnest words caught my attention and out gazes lingered a bit too long, leaving us both blushing.

“Just... don’t leave me,”

“I remember you telling me that if I could prove magic to you, you’d follow me anywhere. I don’t think I have to worry about you ever leaving me,” He joked softly as we walked into the castle grounds.

“I suppose not,” I smiled at the ground.

“Y/n,” Draco paused, the mood shifting to something more serious and downcast. “You’re... you’re gonna hear somethings about me and... they’re not going to be good,” I pondered his words for a moment.

“You flew halfway around the world to find me, and you helped me get back on my feet, that’s good enough for me,” I smiled softly.

Draco pursed his lips and took a deep breath, still looking despondent about the situation.

“Draco,” I called softly. His grey eyes met mine. “I’d never have followed you onto that plane if I didn’t trust you,”

Deciding that he didn’t have an argument to that that he deemed should be voiced, he led me deeper into the grand castle and it took everything in me not to stop and stare at just about everything.

“You went to school here?” I squeaked. A smile parted his lips. 

“Yes... you should have too,” He seemed to realize the injustice. 

“We can’t change that now,” I comforted.

Magnificent doors parted the two of us from the entire school and quite a few wizard officials according to Draco. I stared at the intricate detailed work of the doors. If I wasn’t so nervous, I could have spent the entire day staring at these doors alone.

But there was something to be done.

The doors opened and the entire hall fell into a pin drop silence. I grabbed Draco’s hand without thinking for the comfort and support. He squeezed mine reassuringly as we began out steps forward to the front, where older, authoritative looking wizards stood.

“Death Eater,” A student hissed. 

“Traitor,”

“Scum,”

“You don’t belong here,”

 “Slytherin,”

My eyes glanced up to Draco, who had a mask of no emotion, but I could see the stress in the clenching of his jaw and tightening of his eyes. It was subtle but it was still there. This time I gave his hand a squeeze of reassurance and glared down the crowd, who immediately went quiet. There was not a menacing whisper to be heard.

At the front of the Great Hall there were three wizards who stood out among the rest. They were younger, but still assured of themselves as they stepped forward towards us. A boy with fiery red hair holding hands with a girl who had a glare that I was proud of and beside them a boy with a mess of black hair and piercing green eyes.

“Potter,” Draco’s eyes narrowed as he stood a bit taller.

“Malfoy,” There was the same distain in the supposed savior of the wizarding world’s tone.

I snorted, drawing both of their attention.

“What are you? Five?” I crossed my arms. “Y/n, nice to meet you,” I held my hand out for Harry to shake.

“I still can’t leave you two alone for five minutes,” A new voice sighed, stepping forward. “I hope they haven’t caused you too much trouble, child. I’m Professor McGonagall, headmaster of Hogwarts,”

“Y/n,” I gave again. “Supposed heiress to Gryffindor,”

“Yes,” She smiled. “I can see it in your eyes,”

Harry scoffed, sulking mildly. I looked over to him, then to Draco, confused and amused.

“I must apologize for the deceit in my letter.” McGonagall continued paying no mind to the interaction between Harry and me. “I feared that it was the only way to get you to come,” Her kind blue eyes held mine.

“I understand,” My smile was light. “In fact, if it wasn’t for Draco, I’m not sure I would have found my way here,”

“He used you!” Harry argued. “He wanted to clear his name so of course he helped you! You think he’d be a decent person if there wasn’t something in it for him!”

“That’s enough of that Mr. Potter!” McGonagall scolded. “Mr. Malfoy aided the heir of your house here from America unprovoked and I will not have you accuse him of such things,”

“If she trusted Malfoy there’s no way that she could ever be a Gryffindor. She doesn’t belong here,” Harry’s words were as cold as ice.

The malice and hatred in his voice and eyes was a fatal blow to my heart and confidence. Harry was right. I didn’t belong here. I looked around to the lavish hall and all of the students and wizard officials who had years of training and practice and grew up knowing who they were... this wasn’t where I belonged.

“How dare you,” Draco snarled, taking a step forward to shield me from Harry’s further words, but they had already hit their mark.

Their bickering silenced, but the tensions were high. Not that I noticed, I was too wrapped up in my negative thoughts.

“Come child,” McGonagall beckoned.

“Give me a minute,” I requested softly.

“We really need—”

“I said in a minute!” My raised voice shocked Draco and McGonagall. There was almost fear in their eyes. Harry still held the same hatred for me in his stare, now smug as if I proved his point.

It was enough to cause me to run.

Never being in a castle before in my life let alone a magic one, I was lost before I took my third turn. Tears streaming down my face, I never felt more alone. I found myself in a small courtyard with a lone old oak tree.

As I did when I was younger, I began to climb high into the branches, looking for an escape from the world below me. But there weren’t branches high enough this time. Resting on a high branch I leaned against the trunk, I let myself cry. The passage of time was hard to tell as the sun sank and the stars came out to play. It might have been an hour or two. I didn’t know and I was too miserable to care.

I didn’t belong here, and I wasn’t wanted here. Moments before I was only thinking that I didn’t care what they thought about Draco. I never imagined that there would be doubt and uncertainty about me.

I heard footsteps coming into the courtyard.

“Go away Draco,” I warned, pausing when I saw that it wasn’t Draco, but instead McGonagall. “I’m sorry, I thought—”

“I know who you thought I was,” She peered up at me through the branches. “Merlin’s sake what are you doing in a tree?” I heard the sternness in her voice, but I couldn’t help but here the amusement underneath.

“Hiding,” I offered sheepishly.

“Well come down from there,” She ordered.

I made my way down with ease. Dropping to the ground from a higher branch than I could have, I knew that I startled the headmaster. I gave a polite hesitant smile.

“What do they teach you in America,” McGonagall pursed her lips, an undeniable hint of mischief in her eye.

“I’m... really sorry professor,” I sighed. “I know I’m not what anyone thought. And I know I don’t belong here. I’m sorry I ever...”

“Never mind all that,” She cut me off. “Who are you, child?”

“I... I was hoping that you could tell me,” I glanced down, fidgeting, and straightening my robe. 

“My dear, I’m old, and I’m tired of being conned and tricked.” She began.

“I don’t want to trick anyone,” I said earnestly.

“And I’m sure owning this castle means nothing to you either?” A silence passed between us.

“I just want to know who I am,” I finally spoke. “Whether or not I belong to a family, if I’m someone like you,” I sat on the stone bench that was to the side. “Draco said that Hogwarts was like home to him... a family,” Tears stung my eyes. “I never had a home, a family...”

McGonagall sat beside me, placing her hand over mine.

“Heir or not, you will always have a home here at Hogwarts. It is a safe haven to all witches and wizards who wish to remain,” She assured me. “And I am the one that must apologize. Mr. Potter is very hotheaded, a negative attribute to Gryffindors I’m afraid,” A smile played at her lips. “But... if Draco followed you to America and brought you here, I have no doubt that you are the heir.” I smiled down at my hands. “I see the way he looks at you,”

“I’ve never met anyone like him before,” I confessed.

“Then you are very special,” She stood. “Now come, you have a title to claim and a sword that belongs to you,”

“I get a sword?” My excitement grew as I followed her. McGonagall merely laughed and led me back through the castle.

Draco, who was anxiously pacing outside of the Great Hall, caught sight of us. He rushed over to me, looking me over before pulling me into a hug, before remembering himself.

“I’m so sorry,” He insisted. “This is my fault. Harry and I never got along, and as soon as I walked in there with you, I pinned you as a rival to him,” He cupped my face softly. “I’m so sorry,” He repeated.

Nodding, I gave him a smile.

“You destiny awaits inside my dear,” McGonagall motioned toward the entrance to the hall.

The second time I walked down the aisle of students, I no longer had the confidence I had before. Except, Draco’s hand in mine gave me the courage to keep going. Except this time, Harry’s malice was not the force holding me back.

As Draco and I were halfway across the room, a great darkness flooded the hall. Disquieted whispers of fear were exchanged among the students and official wizards.

“No other heir will take the throne,” A cruel voice hissed, that I had only heard once before, in a dream. I grabbed Draco’s hand. “No heir but Slytherin,”

I looked to Draco, trying to find what to do next in his eyes. He was just as uncertain as I was. Then something sparked in his eyes.

“The sword Y/n!” Draco urged. “Take the sword and claim your throne!”

“But how is that—”

“Just go!” He ordered drawing his wand and leaving little room for argument.

The darkness hung heavier in the room. Shedding my stuffy robes, I was free to run in nothing more than jeans and a sweater to the podium where the sword lay.

“Don’t touch that sword!” The voice hissed. “Or your lover here dies!”

I turned to see Draco almost entirely consumed by a thick black smoke, struggling for air.

“Don’t hurt him!” I screeched, pausing on my ascent toward the sword.

Hundreds of wizards and witches watched us with bated breath, warned by McGonagall to stay back. I could see the fear and fury in their gazes.

“Don’t hurt him,” I begged, taking a step away from the podium. 

“Y/n, don’t—don’t worry about me,” Draco gasped out.

“You’ll die,” I argued weakly. “You can’t leave me! You promised!”

“I know,” He choked out. “Just trust me. It’s magic,” The sparkle of mischief in his eyes gave me the courage I needed to ignore the threatening evil voice and walked up to the sword for the third time since I arrived.

“No past... no parents...no home...” I muttered, looking at the sword. “But you won’t take my future!”

I gripped the sword handle and held it high above my head, watching as the Great Hall was bathed in golden light. Every person in the room stared at me, before bowing. I didn’t care. My eyes held onto one person.

The dark cloud has nowhere to run, it was vaporized. Draco fell to the ground gasping for air. I dropped the sword to the ground, hearing it clatter somewhere behind me as I rushed to Draco’s side.

“My god, Draco!” I worried over him, holding him close. “Don’t you ever do that again!” He coughed out a laugh and his arms weakly embraced me.

“Y/n, sweetheart, I don’t think now is the right time. You can yell at me later,” He nodded to the faces in awe that stared at me.

I scrambled to my feet, helping Draco up.

“All hail the Gryffindor Heiress and the Slytherin Prince!” McGonagall proclaimed with a clear voice. A loud cheer went up in the Hall that had me blushing and nearly clinging to Draco.

McGonagall came over to me, offering me the sword that laid in her outstretched hands. “I do believe this belongs to you,” She smiled.

I took the sword, and though the light wasn’t as great as it had been moments before, there was a golden shine to the silver metal. I held it up, examining it. A word burned into the metal, in a golden script.

Virtus

I smiled at the word. Glancing up at Draco, and the adoration in his grey eyes, the sword was soon forgotten from my attention.

“Hi,” I whispered.

“Hello,” He smiled.

“So... I’m the Heir,” I offered, nervous for a new reason. 

“I see that,”

“Draco?”

“Yes?”

“I... I, uh,”

“I know.” Draco smiled, “I fancy you too,”

I laughed despite myself at his British vernacular. Of which I had to quickly explain because of the hurt look on his face. Rolling his eyes, he pulled me close, causing me to look up at him. I met curious warm grey eyes that held the secrets of a world. I smiled.

Draco leaned down and pressed his lips to mine, cradling my face with the utmost care as he kissed me. Another cheer went up causing me to laugh and forcing me away from his kiss.

“I love you,” He mended, whispering for just us to hear. 

“I love you too,”

Then he pressed his lips to mine once more not caring if the world was burning or celebrating around us.

.

masterlist

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more like this:

beautifully beastly

a death eater and a dancer

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[megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms]

Volterra

Based on this request: Hey Meg, dou you also write for the Volturi? Perhaps something about a human reader who stumbled inro their castle and wasn’t instantly killed? At first they let her live as amusement but somwhere along the line she befriended Jane and Marcus and developed feelings for Aro. But she doesn’t want to be turned to a Vampire. Living with your vampire friends as a human can be quite complicated. They make a fuss out of any minor injury, try to advocate for immortality and it’s really difficult not to let your crush know you like them when they can read your thoughts by touching your hand…Perhaps Jane and Marcus device a plan to get Aro and the reader together in order to make thhe reader change her mind of becoming one of them?   

Here you go! *Familiar characters are NOT mine!*

Fandom: Twilight

Warnings: Fluff,  Awkwardness.

Pairings/Characters: Aro Volturi x fem!reader, Jane Volturi, Marcus Volturi

Stumbling upon the castle in Volterra had been an accident. That castle being full of vampires had been unfortunate. Being kept alive because you amused said vampires had been sheer dumb luck. Slowly falling for most insane of the three leaders? Well that was as unexpected as two-by-four to the back of the head. And trying to keep those feelings a secret was damn near impossible when the object of your affection could read your mind with a simple touch.

         When you had accidentally stumbled into Volterra castle and met the Volturi, you had been so scared. More scared than you had ever been in your life. But for some reason, they had found you amusing and decided to keep you. At first, you were treated like a form of their own personal entertainment but soon you were being treated as friend.

         You formed quick friendships with Marcus and, to everyone's surprise, Jane. In fact, the only person who didn't seem to like you was the receptionist, but you thought she might have been a little jealous. All-in-all, you adjusted well to being in a castle surrounded by vampires.

         There were of course issues with your situation. Because they couldn't let a human out in the world with their secret, you weren't really allowed to leave the castle. And heaven forbid you got hurt in any way, shape, or form. Every bump, bruise, and scrape had them all buzzing around you like worried mothers. It was pretty amusing, in all honesty. Then there was the time you caught a cold. Jane thought you were dying. Whenever anything like that happened, you had to hear about how they would all worry less if you would join them in immortality. You refused each time, but you had no idea that Jane and Marcus were plotting something to make you see things their way.

         It never occurred to you that they had already set their plan in motion. You often found yourself alone with Aro. Whenever there was a chance, everyone else left the room whenever you entered it. It made you a flustered and awkward mess. Like really awkward. You didn't know how to interact with him. You had been very sure not to let Aro touch you, but you had a suspicion that he already knew how you felt about him. You weren't exactly subtle about it.

         Whenever you were alone with Aro, you became a stuttering mess. Trying to keep your cool only made it worse. You were like the young, lovesick, teenagers on TV people liked to laugh at. It was horrible, but maybe it was just the effect Aro had on you. Either way, you hated how awkward the situation was. Aro didn't seem to mind though.

         "Ah, Y/N! I was hoping to spend time with you today. Walk with me?" Aro offered his arm. You took it without hesitation. Was it smart? Probably not. He could kill you with a flick of his wrist if he wanted. But he hadn't show any signs that he was going to hurt you. At least not yet. Plus, Jane had conveniently left you wandering around part of the castle you weren't as familiar with. You didn't want to get lost so walking with Aro seemed like the best option.

         As you walked, Aro made small talk. You smiled at the conversation as you let your gaze travel to the side of his face. This was one of the few times that Aro let his guard down and you wanted to commit it to memory. You hadn't realized that you had zoned out until Aro stopped, causing your hand to slip from his arm. As it did, your hand touched his. You inhaled sharply, but your hand wouldn't listen to your brain and move.

         Aro froze so suddenly, you thought he'd turned into a statue. His eyes were unfocused as his head was overloaded with every thought you'd ever had, including the one you had been trying so hard to hide. After a moment, Aro blinked. He smiled at you. You couldn't speak. You were so embarrassed. You looked away from him, intent on running away.

         "You could try, but you know I would catch you in a moment." You frowned and then remembered that your hands were still slightly touching. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't, that is, I wasn't-" Aro's light chuckle cut you off. "You have no need to apologize. I find myself in a similar situation." You blinked in surprise, making Aro laugh again.

         "Why are you so surprised? You are, truly, the most beautiful and intriguing woman I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, immortal or human." You felt yourself flushing. Aro finally moved his hand so the two of you were no longer touching. He lifted the hand and offered it to you. "Shall we continue our walk?" For a moment, you looked between his hand and his face. Those milky red eyes regarded you with worry and perhaps a little amusement.

         With only a second of hesitation, you let your hand slip into his. Aro practically preened under your touch. He brought it up to his mouth, pressing his cold lips against your heated skin. You couldn't help the smile that spread across your face. You were in a happy daze when Aro pulled away and began walking again.

         "I'm glad this happened," you whispered. You knew he could hear you. Aro's lips upturned into a smile. "As am I, my dear. Although, we should inform Jane and Marcus. The two of them have been…enthusiastic in their attempts to get us alone together." You rolled your eyes. "Jane I get. She's been trying to find a way to get me to agree to immortality since I got here. Marcus? Not so much. I never pictured him as a busybody." Aro laughed and reminded you of Marcus' gift. "Perhaps he has seen a bond between us. He has been very cautious about allowing me to see his thoughts recently."

         The thought both excited and worried you. Is what you were feeling for Aro because of some odd bond? Or were you in control? And if it was a result of a bond, what would happen if you and Aro were to lose those feelings for each other? Aro stopped walking again. "You fret too much, mi amore. If the bond is there, it can be broken by our own choices. And, unless it is the bond of a true mate, nothing would truly happen should we choose to pursue our current feelings for one another."

         "What do you choose, Aro?" Aro didn't say anything for a moment. "I have waited a long time to meet someone like you. Someone that can make me feel something more. Even if you are not my true mate, I choose to try, if you will allow me? And maybe one day, you will choose an eternity with us here in Volterra. With me." You bit your lip and tried not to smile. Trust Aro to sound so awkward yet eloquent at the same time.

         "Yes." That one word seemed to brighten Aro's entire being. "Finally," another voice broke into your little moment. You let out a little scream and jumped. You turned to face Jane with a glare. "Don't you have somewhere to be, Nosy Rosy?" Jane merely arched a blonde brow at the nickname. "My place is as Master Aro's guard today."

         "So you heard…everything?" She smirked. "Yes. And I cannot wait to tell Master Marcus," she replied before speeding away. You moved to chase after her, but Aro held you back. "You realize, of course, that you would never catch her, do you not?" You turned your hard stare on Aro. "Yes. But it would make me feel better."

         Aro laughed and shook his head fondly. "Perhaps I could be of assistance?" You beamed. "What did you have in mind?" In no time, Aro scooped you up bridal style and flashed away. Your peals of laughter bounced off the castle walls as the wind caused by Aro's speed wrang through your ears. You never knew Aro could be so playful, but you had to admit, you liked it. And, if this was a sign of things to come, you would have to give immortality and staying in Volterra some serious thought.

(a/n: I hope this is what you were looking for! ALL taglists are open!)

[floralseokjin]

⤑ made-up love song drabbles

Seokjin tells his therapist he might have a little crush on you

kim seokjin x reader warnings; this drabble takes place during a therapy session but it entails a light hearted conversation words; 1,773 words

↪︎ read the series here / and drabbles here

“It definitely seems like a crush, Seokjin,” Mrs. Shin nodded, the slightest of smiles lifting her lips as she looked across at him, her glasses perched a little way down the bridge of her nose. She was teasing him. He knew her well enough by now. He’d been having a session a week for the past three years. 

Admittedly at first he’d been sceptical. It was policy at the company. With such a stressful and demanding position he needed to have someone on hand to talk to regularly, just in case it all became too much, so he was unable to turn it down even if he had wanted to at first. He’d never been one for talking about his feelings, choosing to deal with them himself. He wasn’t a fan of sharing, not wanting to be a burden or risk unloading his troubles onto someone who didn’t really want to hear it but didn’t have the heart to tell him. He was still like that now in ways, but he figured this was Mrs. Shin’s – Chaewon’s – job, so she had to have a passion for it, right? Helping people… 

And helped him she had. He didn’t know where he’d be if it wasn’t for her. She’d been there for him tremendously over the years, especially with his divorce and the strains of being apart from Arin. He was a busy man so these visits couldn’t be in person most of the time, usually done over phone call, sometimes video, but today he’d felt like getting out of the office. Taking a long lunch to confess something he hadn’t even had the balls to tell Namjoon, his best friend of twenty years. 

See, the thing was, he had found himself in a bind. It had been two weeks since he’d backed out into your car. Two weeks since he’d embarrassingly taken it upon himself to take said car and pay his mechanic to fix the damage. Two weeks since he’d last seen you, waving you off at the subway station he’d driven you to, and two weeks since he’d been unable to stop thinking about you. He had it bad, and he had no idea if he was deluding himself or not. I might have a little crush, had been his opening line, and it made him want the floor to open up and swallow him whole. 

He groaned quite loudly (definitely dramatically), throwing his head back. “But it sounds so juvenile.” 

He wasn’t in high school. He was a near forty year old man, with a child. Crushes were for teenagers. In fact, the last time he’d had one he’d been in 9th grade. Moon Dabin, the daughter of one of his father’s friends. It hadn’t ended well, his feelings left unrequited which he feared was happening this time around too. Not that they were feelings per se. That would be foolish. He didn’t even know you properly. This was just an… attraction? 

“Well, what else would you call it?” Chaewon chuckled, now not even bothering to try and hide her amusement. 

“I have no idea.” He admitted. “I’m just…” he trailed off, feeling like an idiot having to say the words aloud. “I’m just very attracted to her, and I feel this sense of…” – another pause as he tried to think of the correct word – “admiration towards her?” 

That didn’t seem right, or it sounded weird, something like that. You were dedicated to your job. The parent teacher meeting had made it obvious just how much you loved teaching. You also had this… tenacity about you. You were feisty, scrappy. He felt out of his depth around you, but oddly relaxed at the same time. He respected you. Not that he didn’t respect everyone, but well – God, what was going on with him? He liked you. It was plain and simple. It didn’t matter if you were virtually a stranger. 

“I just like her.” 

“What do you like about her?” Chaewon pressed, smiling innocently. “You know, other than her face.” 

Seokjin shook his head with a slight chuckle. “She just has this way about her.” You made him laugh. You made him awkward. You made him flirty, as embarrassing as that was to admit. “I mean, I’ve seen her a grand total of three times but each time has been…fun.” 

The older woman in front of him raised an eyebrow. “Fun?” 

“Different.” He explained with a nod.  “There was something there, possibly.” He didn’t want to delude himself after all. “I think we built up some kind of rapport.” 

“You mean you were flirting.” 

“Possibly.” That word again. “I mean, it’s been a long time since I tried, so I may have been doing it very wrong.” 

Chaewon stifled a laugh as she shrugged. “Well, if she was flirting back.” 

“I don’t know if she was.” He replied unsurely. “She was kind of annoyed at me, because I wouldn’t let her pay me back for the car but I think it was in a playful way.” He paused, thinking some more. “She let me give her a ride to the subway so she can’t think I’m that bad, right?”

Chaewon hummed in consideration. “Maybe it beat getting lost.” The look of horror on his face made her laugh. “I’m just kidding, Seokjin.” She didn’t give him time to reply, lacing her fingers together as she viewed him. “I say, why don’t you ask her out for dinner.” 

“D-dinner?” He more of less spluttered, his shirt collar now feeling dangerously tight against his neck.  “Like some kind of date?”

“Mm hm.” 

He shook his head, “I can’t.” He was adamant. “It just seems… I’m not – I haven’t dated in a while, and besides, she’s Arin’s teacher.” It would be completely unprofessional. He couldn’t. 

“Not for long though, right?”

Seokjin pursed his lips. “Correct.” Damn him for being too easy with the information he’d already handed out. Chaewon had been pushing him to date for the longest time. She was loving this, the chance perfect. 

“I’m too busy.” He insisted, but he knew it was an excuse. “What with work and Arin living with me now. It’s just not very plausible.” 

“I’m sure you can make time for one little date. Unless…” Chaewon paused to look at him pointedly, “you’re holding out for more?”

“No!” His exclamation was loud. “I just… If things – Never mind,” he ended with a groan, flustered now. His face felt hot. His ears too. 

Chaewon sighed gently. “Seokjin, you deserve some time for yourself too. I think dating will do you some good.” 

There she went again. 

“It’s been what, two years?” Seokjin answered her question with a nod, knowing what she was alluding to. “Don’t you think it’s time to put yourself out there?” 

He hesitated. Deep down he knew she was talking sense. While not exactly minding the fact he was single, a companionship sounded nice. A romantic one at that. But who would want a divorced father? He wasn’t exactly a catch now was he? 

“What could go wrong?” Chaewon prompted, sensing his reluctance. 

“What if she’s married?” 

He may or may not have already looked for a ring that Saturday afternoon you’d dropped off his car… Was that a strange thing to do? He hadn’t seen one, but that didn’t mean anything. 

“Then she’ll simply tell you that and you’ll have to get over your little crush.” 

If you were married, he’d feel like such a fool getting his hopes up like this, and if you weren’t, chances were you were already in a relationship. “What if she’s not interested in going for dinner?” He figured they were valid concerns. He hadn’t asked out a woman in near a decade, and even then it wasn’t comparable because he had known Nana was interested already. 

“Again, she’ll let you know,” Chaewon smiled. 

“Do you think she might be interested?” The thought of getting turned down would not only dent his ego, but he’d be extremely disappointed too. He really did like you.  Maybe getting another woman’s perspective would do him good. “You know, from what I’ve told you,” he added. 

Chaewon’s smile grew, gaze casting downwards as she began to tease him. “Well, with the rapport you’ve built up, and the way she was annoyed at you but playfully, then maybe.” 

He couldn’t help but chuckle, rubbing his fingers back and forth along his jaw. “Shit, you’re setting me up for failure.” 

“I don’t think I am,” she said, shaking her head to turn serious. “From what you’ve told me, and granted she’s single, I think you’re in with a fighting chance.” 

Seokjin liked the sound of that. “So you don’t think she’s still holding a grudge against me?”

“For what, stealing her car?”

“If you want to call it that.” He didn’t even try to fight it today. He already knew Chaewon’s views on the matter. She’d been appalled to find out that he’d just gotten his mechanic to tow away your car like that. Of course, he understood his mistake now, but back then he was blindsided, hellbent on sorting out the mess he’d caused.  

“I guess possibly she can hold a grudge and be attracted to you at the same time,” Chaewon replied almost cryptically, but Seokjin was too distracted by the latter half. He hoped you were attracted to him, just as much as he was attracted to you. 

“That reminds me,” Chaewon clapped her hands suddenly, gaining his attention back. “We should probably use some of this session to go over that impulsiveness you sometimes struggle with.” 

Psychoanalysing himself did not sound like fun right now. Not when he had to make a decision about asking you out for dinner or not. Maybe he needed that impulsiveness right now… 

“However, from the look on your face, I see you want to keep talking about Y/N.” 

The sound of your name made him grin. It was such a pretty name, suited you well. Maybe he could do this. Date. It didn’t have to be a big deal. It didn’t have to be scary.  

“Chaewon, do you think I’m ready to start dating?” He asked in all seriousness, as if he didn’t know her answer. 

“I have been saying it for months now, yes,” his therapist nodded, but her voice was gentle. She understood his hesitance, she knew him very well. 

“Right,” he murmured, lowering his head feeling a little bashful. 

“So,” she nudged softly, “you better hurry, or you’ll be all out of chances. You did say the summer fate is tomorrow, didn’t you?” 

Shit. He definitely told her too much. 

Written 2020 - 2021.  Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed.  © floralseokjin 2021

[mrpenguinpants]

Andrius, Venti, and Dvalin: General HCs [+ unhinged Venti]

Oh no, not strange at all! I love seeing the art people have done on human Dvalin and Andrius. I’m not entirely sure if you wanted a Venti x Dvalin x Andrius pairing but I’m going to assume so. But just in case, I added a few points of all 4 of your hanging out. How my desk is positioned with my window, the sun is shining directly into my eyes so I have to type in this weird position unless I want my eyeballs to melt.

Also, if any of this is wrong just look away. This took forever because holy crap there is so much lore on these 3. Not sure what exactly you had in mind so I made some general/friendship HCs

Alright, today’s appreciations post is for maagdalen​​. Super lovely person with some lovely emotes. Oh and your english is really good btw^^ and ty for chatting with me 💕💕💕

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[taglist]  <- if you want to be added, please read this first. 

@hanniejji​​  @mikeysbike​​ @unionwitch​ @musekala​ @twistedsunnshiii​ @stanzastic​ @akaasea​ @xoneaboveallx​ @adoring-ghost​ @asheseiler​ @childelover​ @dilucsz​

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Andrius, Venti, and Dvalin: General HCs

Andrius

Andrius, also known as Lupus Boreas, was tasked with protecting the nation of Mondstadt under the request of Barbatos. He had a noble soul and mainly stays in the area of Wolvendom. He was strict, to the point, and never really partakes in whatever “foolish” activities Venti or Dvain get themselves into. But it’s all just a front because as soon as one of them get’s hurt or is in danger, his fangs and teeth are out. Even if it’s a cute hydro slime. Then he’ll take them by the scruff of their neck back to Wolvendom to get their wounds checked. On Venti it works, but with Dvalin’s dragon form. It’s amusing to see a pouting dragon getting dragged off by a wolf that wasn’t even double his size.

Not many Mondstadt citizen’s know but Andrius isn’t actually a wolf. He chooses to take the form of a wolf and should any of the wolves in Wolvendom be threaten, that’s the form he will appear in. But in truth, it was because Venti suggested it. If he was going to stay in Wolvendom and protect wolves then it made sense that his form would be the big bad wolf. Really Andrius just believes that Venti has a secret vendetta against cats and Andrius wouldn’t talk to Venti if he suggested that he take the form a dog.

There is a bit of discourse between Andrius and Venti due to Venti’s human-like appearance since Andrius views human society as a disappointment. Only accepting abandoned infants that have no where to go. But he does respect Barbatos and helped in his efforts to rebuild Mondstadt and protect it as one of the Four Winds.

While he doesn’t completely enjoy Venti’s extravagant personality he’s glad that Barbatos adopted the name and is living his life in freedom. Despite being the anemo archon, he chooses to live as Venti. Having fun in taverns and doing what he loves.

Venti

Venti always brings stories and sings for the two whenever he decides that it’s been too long since he’s seen his friends. He usually brings a bottle of wine even if he’s the only one that ever drinks - which is probably why he brings wine - which leads to Andrius scolding Venti to try and act civilized when he gets drunk and saying “No Dvalin, you cannot have some. The last time we let you drink you cried so much that Springvale still has a waterfall.”

It’s amusing to hear that after the war, the biggest problem Venti has right now is getting constantly ID checked. Dvalin takes this quite literally, since he still isn’t fully aware of taverns rules and regulations, that it takes both Venti and Andrius to hold him down before another Stormterror incident happens.

Venti has always been bold, never afraid to say anything, which was a trait that Dvalin and Andrius liked about the anemo archon. It was what made him the archon of freedom but sometimes Venti is a bit too bold and pretends to play fetch with Andrius wolf form. He is not amused. When he tries it with Dvalin, Dvalin will participate but he get’s confused and ends up just sitting beside Venti when the archon throws the stick. Which causes Venti to make a walk of shame to get the stick back.

When Venti acts as the Wind Archon it’s always a bit of whiplash when he talks in his philosophical state that it reminds Dvalin and Andrius that despite his childlike appearance and attitude, he was still the anemo archon. But it get quickly covered up when he says it’s time to switch back to Venti time.

It’s hard for them all to meet up in the present day. Dvalin stays in his domain while Andrius stays in Wolvendorm, all alone in their own domain. Venti prefers lively places than those quiet and solitude areas so he’s either in the City of Freedom or under the Windrise tree. But on occasions where he feels lonely he’ll swing by Dvalin’s lair and use the winds to carry their conversation to Andrius. Just so he isn’t left out.

If anyone asks where the ballads that Venti sings that are about a strict wolf and a nervous dragon, he’ll just say it was a passing tune he made up.

Dvalin

Dvalin, same as Andrius, lost his faith in humanity and the city of Mondstadt. He was released as his role as one of the four winds but continued to remain in Mondstadt. Similarly to Andrius he is distrustful around humans after being betrayed by them, chose to avoids human contact but he tries to adopt a more friendly side when Venti visits him.

Dvalin cares about Venti more and isn’t as standoffish in showing that he appreciates Venti compared to Andrius. Venti explained to him and showed him what freedom truly was he felt connected with someone for the first time. He did want to be understood and loved by the humans for who he was and what he wanted to protect. But that’s still a long road ahead.

He’s a curious but clumsy dragon. He’s pure of heart and steadfast in his goals which Venti is full-heartily cheering him on while Andrius disagrees but allows Dvalin to continue on this own path. Even if Andrius is on the other side of Mondstadt, he still tries to keep an eye out for Dvalin should the Abyss Order ever try and take his friend under their control.

However, due to how almost naïve the dragon is, he get’s into rather...interesting situations. While Andrius groans and Venti loses his absolute shit when Dvalin, still in his dragon form, lands and tries to observe the wolves. He only hides behind a thin tree that barely covers even 2% of his entire body and ends up scaring the wolves who run back to Andrius for safety. It takes a lot of consoling from Venti that the wolves didn’t like him, they were just scared and perhaps he should adopt a smaller form?

He’s still a bit sick from the aftermath of the Abyss Order and the poison of Durin so he can’t travel as far as he would like so Venti keeps him company. Telling him what the citizens of Mondstadt have been up to and playing music with his lyre.

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I love writing Venti, he’s so much fun. :) I say this but I live for Venti who hides behind this happy persona but is actually unhinged or deluded. I have many thoughts on this but I didn’t want to break the pace of the fic (plus this is getting pretty long anyways). So feel free to skip the rest of this if that makes you uncomfortable. I’m just spit balling right now.

But nervous and shy dragon Dvalin plus mother hen Andrius is canon. You cannot convince me otherwise.

This week has just turned into “what will we awaken today?” In other news, Lisa and Diluc. But it might be a bit late since this took some time to finish. In extra news, solo leveling just updated. Oh and jjk is (hopefully) getting a new episode tmr^^

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Barbatos

Andrius and Dvalin trust Venti to fulfill his archon duties should anything ever happen to Mondstadt. The same way Venti trusts the Four Winds will protect Mondstadt should anything dangerous arise. With the carefree nature of Venti making a sudden appearance after Barbatos’s year long nap, they both got a bit too comfortable with this happy-go-lucky version of their archon.

That is until Venti brings a fourth person into their trio. Someone who knew how to play the lyre and wished to fly and see the birds. Andrius and Dvalin share a quick look of anxious tension and it’s confirmed when Venti makes a small slip of the tongue and calls you by a certain boy’s name. They aren’t sure what to do or if Venti was starting to regress back into Barbatos and what that could mean for this innocent traveler.

“Barbatos defeated the previous ruler and left the city to rest because he didn’t want to become the same tyrant. But an archon is still an archon with responsibilities. Those responsibilities can be warped to the point that they believe they are helping and guiding their followers, but are actually trapping them in their cage. He is an archon that believes in freedom so his cage is just a bit bigger. Big enough that you can’t see the walls. Be careful traveler.”

Venti goes to greet you the next day you see him but his words seem to fade away when he approach's you. He asks if you’ve been talking to Andrius lately. You nod and ask how he knows. He says that you just spell like wolfhooks and that you shouldn’t worry about anything. 

The next day Andrius apologizes to you about his words and that he was mistaken. There was nothing to worry about and to trust Venti. You can see Dvalin a bit off to the side looking away nervously and a bit guilty.

Venti always makes sure that Andrius and Dvalin keep an eye on you, especially Dvalin when you’re in stormterror land. It was a pretty dangerous landscape to trek through. As for Andrius, he doesn’t want you to get hurt during your weekly practice fights. It wouldn’t do you any good if you got hurt and couldn’t explore this vast world with him.

[crossdressingdeath]

I saw people talking about the Lan sect rules and how only LWJ was noticed to break them, did you all not notice that LQR, the elders, even LXC and QHJ broke the rules? The thing about the rules is that nobody can follow them 24/7, all the damn time. Who knows what rules you break and didn’t break? That’s not on anyone really. LQR broke the rules in front of everyone regarding the resentful energy debate and everyone excused him! As an educator, he doesn’t practice what he preach. The rule LQR broke? Morality is propriety. Also he talks shittily about wwx’s parents like bruh. Nobody in the Lan think about Madam Lan situation precisely like why she killed QHJ’s teacher, etc. QHJ himself also didn’t investigate and just marry and imprison her. The rule broken? Don’t make assumption. LXC also listens to gossip all around him, so he shouldn’t have the gall to act like the holier than art thou because he sees LWJ broke rules for WWX. LWJ did that, LQR did that, LXC and his father also did that, the whole elders I am sure broke rules too. Not all the rules broken are within their right and sometimes it is important to know that with rules like these acting as governing body discipline (like rise at 5 and sleep at 9 pm is a basic healthy life style for working people commuting) but others such as no killing, don’t lie, it’s supposed like common decency and what humans need to uphold as principles, not rules in the wall where it prevents everyone from lying in situation needed (like absent of gc or gc transfer). Though canonically, everyone even Lan disciples like LJY broke rules too. Even LSZ. Moreso, non Lans like NHS, JC, and other visiting disciples (JZXun, JZXUan etc). didn’t they insult wwx’s parentage and jfm’s rumors thing? And no Lans stopped them and just listen to the gossip or fight going on? Well I could go on but only WWX is punished for every thing in the end. LQR surely isn’t blind that he doesn’t know NHS doesn’t cheat or smuggle porn alcohol etc but he only singles out WWX. It just means they are somehow using the rules to cover up hypocrisy we are supposedly seeing.

though I agree the rules are not harsh, some are unnecessary such as no killing and no lying, but if the authority upholding and witholding the rules are not just, then it’s gonna be corrupt or biased assertion of sort.

I mean, to be fair we don't actually know that QHJ didn't investigate what happened with his teacher because we only know the most basic of basics regarding that situation. And I don't remember LQR talking about CSSR at all beyond maybe a sort of "Just like your mother, she was a troublemaker too" type thing, which is... y'know, accurate, not talking shit. And I don't think LXC really does listen to gossip (accepting the word of trusted associates as fact is not the same as gossiping). And he does not have a holier-than-thou attitude towards LWJ breaking the rules for WWX! His issue is that LWJ is committing treason and could end up heartbroken or dead! Concern for your sibling is not the same as being holier-than-thou! LXC's issue is with the fact that as far as he can tell WWX is toying with LWJ's feelings, not the fact that LWJ's breaking rules!

As for "others such as no killing, don’t lie, it’s supposed like common decency and what humans need to uphold as principles, not rules in the wall where it prevents everyone from lying in situation needed"... anon, allow me to introduce you to a little thing called laws. There are laws that are only on the books so that people know where to assign fault if something goes wrong, and there are laws that are in place so that people know what the punishment should be. Name one society that doesn't have rules in place regarding things like killing. And the rule against lying is a principle thing? It's more like... "you are expected to hold to these principles as a Lan cultivator". It's setting out expectations. Like a dress code; you go into a job knowing that you are expected to wear a certain sort of outfit, and by taking the job you are saying that you understand that and will wear that sort of outfit. Same deal here; Lans are honest, this is a known thing, if you want to join the Lan sect you have to be honest and if you're not prepared to do that you shouldn't join the Lan sect. Also uh... there is no evidence that the Lans can't lie in situations where they absolutely have to, what? We know Lans can break the rules in circumstances where that becomes necessary! Unless you're arguing that every Lan who participated in the Sunshot Campaign then had to be punished for all that killing. Which I hope you're not, because that would be... stupid. And we know they do lie; LSZ would be in deep shit if Lans couldn't lie, because it would be impossible to keep the fact that he's a Wen quiet if LWJ had to tell everyone who asked where he came from! It's not a fucking magical compulsion, it's a rule they choose to follow to the best of their abilities! Like how murder is illegal but self-defence is okay, there are times when breaking a rule is the best option and there are additional rules in place to allow for that.

And you say only WWX was punished for the cheating and the smuggling of alcohol and smuggling porn, but a) WWX is incredibly open about it, b) WWX is the only one mentioned as smuggling alcohol, c) WWX isn't actually punished for smuggling porn because only NHS is mentioned as doing that and he's VERY VERY GOOD AT HIDING THE FACT THAT HE'S DOING IT SO HE'S NEVER ACTUALLY CAUGHT (you say that LQR "surely isn't blind" like that means he must have noticed, but you're forgetting that 1. LQR isn't actually omnipotent and 2. NHS's whole thing is being insanely good at hiding what he's doing; don't assume he was obvious enough to get caught, especially when he's been through these classes multiple times and presumably knows all of LQR's usual tricks for catching troublemakers), and d) there's... nothing to say the other disciples weren't punished for cheating. LWJ caught all of them. WWX is specifically mentioned as being punished because a) he's the protagonist so of course he is, b) he's a repeat offender and repeat offences generally do lead to a heavier punishment, and c) LQR (correctly and definitely understandably) pegs him as the ringleader; WWX is being punished for heading the thing while the others are just punished for participating. That's... not unreasonable. (And yes it was NHS's idea but LQR doesn't know that, now does he?)

The guest disciples probably get away with more because they didn't sign up for how strict the rules are, not because the Lans are being hypocrites. Hey, remember how WWX blatantly breaks a bunch of rules right in front of LWJ on his first night only to get off scot-free because he claimed (likely falsely!) that he didn't know the rules yet and the only real consequence was that LQR then read out all the rules the first day of class so that he could ensure everyone knew the rules? WWX benefits from the laxer standards on guest disciples too, it's just that he's far more determined to cause trouble than everyone else! Also the other disciples don't insult WWX's parentage or talk shit about JFM's supposed favour? Because WWX is in fact incredibly popular? Like, I think you're underestimating just how much people liked WWX before the Sunshot Campaign! This man was insanely well-liked by his peers! It is only the Jiangs and assholes like JZXun who have an issue with him based on his parentage or position in the Jiang sect! Hell, the novel expressly states that him being head disciple and the son of the sect leader's childhood friend in addition to how young people aren't as bothered about status and ancestry meant that he was pretty much accepted as an equal right away! The closest thing to someone talking shit is JZX's "Doesn't [JFM] treat you better than his own son or something?", which he clearly doesn't even fully believe himself (the "or something" suggests he's parroting someone else's words in an effort to hurt, not stating something he believes wholeheartedly himself), and the Lans aren't so much standing around listening to the gossip as they are trying to pull JZX and WWX off each other. Also I don't think JZXun is even mentioned as being there but whatever, he might have been one of the nameless disciples in that scene.

Basically... are the Lans all perfect paragons of justice and honour? Of course they aren't! They're people! People are going to be petty and harsh and unfair, that's just what people do! But people seem so determined to treat them as this awful, hypocritical, cruel mess of a sect who use their reputation to bully people and I just do not get it! "Strict but fair" is the most accurate summary of how the Lan sect works, and yes, sometimes individual members are petty about it and everyone in the sect sometimes breaks the rules because again, they're human, no one can uphold all those rules all the time, but everyone in the sect signed up for that and if they find they can't handle it they leave the sect. Like... guys. Strict does not inherently mean they're hypocritical and awful. Come on.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Poison: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill, fluff and angst

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated.

Feedback is gold, and it’s the only currency I take

"What is food to one is to others bitter poison." - Lucretius

Cases involving children are never your strong suit. The last one with Billie Copeland was just so hard, you’re not sure if you can be involved in another one--that is until you learned what this case is really all about. Yes, there is a child involved, but the bigger picture has a much larger scale than children.

You have to remind yourself that you need to focus on the case and not on Spencer. It shouldn’t even be a hard thing to do, but something happened between you two when you took him to the bookstore right next to your apartment. After checking out a couple of books, and after Spencer had read virtually all of them, you decided it was kind of late and that you needed to get home. The store was closing very soon anyway, so Spencer opted to walk you home.

When you got to your door, he decided to give you a kiss on your cheek, but you moved your head at the last minute. He accidentally got the corner of your mouth, and that messed up his whole thing. Based on his reaction to your mouths almost touching, you know he can’t be that interested in you. If he were, then he would have just kissed you right there and then. Instead, he stuttered a goodbye and left.

You haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since. Does he like you? If so, then why won’t he just kiss you? If he doesn’t, then why does he agree to go on these dates with you. Whenever you two go out, you clearly state that this is a date, and he doesn’t say anything that dismisses that idea. Sometimes, you just wish you knew what was going on inside that big brain of his so you can dejumble it and tell him what the fuck is going on. You’d do it now, but you have a case that needs your full attention.

Apparently, a man and his son were driving down the road one night when the father pulled to the side of the road and got out. He walked into the woods, the son followed after him, and the father beat him almost to death. The son is in the hospital undergoing critical care while the father is in the psych ward. You’re not sure how it happened or why, but you know that it did. Hotch and Gideon got hold of the interrogation video sent over by the New Jersey Police Department.

Detective Hanover is the person who is going to be in charge and is also the person who you will be working with the entire time you’re in Jersey.

“State trooper took this before the paramedics showed up,” the detective says and shows Jack Fisher, the father of Eric Fisher, a picture of his unconscious body. “He's unconscious and has four broken bones. He's gonna be in the hospital for a month.”

“I didn't hurt my son,” Jack sighs.

“Do you remember removing the tire iron from the trunk?”

What, he used a tire iron? You gasp softly and put your hand to your mouth as you continue to watch.

“No! No!”

“What's the last thing you remember?”

“I picked Eric up from school on Friday, for the weekend. Who would do this?” he cries softly.

Hotch ends the video there and addresses the entire briefing room.

“This happened two days ago in Beechwood, New Jersey. Mr. Fisher had ingested LSD one afternoon and didn't come down until eighteen hours later.”

“The hospital reported six other patients who ingested LSD in the last twenty-four hours. The hospital called the CDC, then the CDC called us,” JJ finishes.

“So, a bunch of people got spiked. What makes it a BAU case?” Derek wonders.

“They each received ten to twenty times the normal dose.”

“That’s enough to kill a small child,” Spencer informs.

“Or cause a grown man to try and kill him with a tire iron apparently,” you sigh.

“Of the seven victims, there was one death and one coma. This is from the hospital's security footage the same night Fisher lost it,” JJ explains and uses the remote to put a different video on the screen.

It’s of the hospital that is in complete chaos. People are shouting, pushing, yelling, and apparently, having seizures. One man is on a stretcher, and he’s clearly on something. The doctors around him try to push past the madness of people to get him to a room while the nurses have their hands full of scared and angry patients. This wasn’t a spike or an overdose…

“These people didn’t get spiked. They were poisoned,” you reveal.

“Of the seven victims, Gail Norman was the only death. She was seventy-eight. She ran out into the middle of the road, and she was hit by a car. She was DOA,” JJ reveals on the plane ride over to New Jersey.

You’re sitting next to Spencer in one of the seats that are super cramped so that they can fit four of them in on either side of a small table. You’re sitting by the window, so essentially, Spencer is blocking you in. He’s not a big person, but because you have romantic feelings for him, it feels like a fucking trap.

“The other potentially fatal case is nine-year-old Brittany Canon. She fell out of a treehouse and fractured her skull. She's in a coma, but the doctors don't know if she's going to come out of it,” Hotch says.

“How do you wanna handle the press?” Gideon asks the liaison.

“We still don't know how these people even got dosed. I think it would be irresponsible to issue a warning without specifics. It'll just cause panic. I did notify the local PD, though, to be discreet.”

“How is it possible that none of these people knew how they got poisoned?” Derek wonders.

“None of them remembers anything about the day it happened,” you say and gesture, but your hand brushes up against Spencer’s leg.

You blush and mutter an apology, but he doesn’t say anything about it. He looks at you and blushes as well, but he is better at hiding it than you are.

“These people were so messed up; it's made it difficult for local PD to retrace the victim's steps.”

“So, we need to go on precedent. We know there are four types of poisoners who target multiple victims,” Gideon starts.

“There's the true believer--the political terrorist/religious cult. There's the extortionist--the product tamperer that holds the business hostage in exchange for money. The prankster--it’s usually a younger offender who doesn't mean any harm, and it's basically just a big practical joke to them. Then we have the avenger--someone with a personal vendetta who chooses poison as their weapon,” you explain the different types of offenders.

“We need to find out as quickly as possible which type he is. Because with the exception of the prankster, all these types commonly test their poison on a small scale before appearing at a larger attack.”

“Then, let's hope this one was just a prank,” Derek scoffs.

"I suggest we split up the victims and see if there's a pattern to the victimology,” Gideon suggests.

“Most of them are still in the hospital. I'll call local PD to meet us there,” Hotch confirms.

“I'll check the lab reports. Maybe there's a clue to the unsub's motive in the specific nature of the poison he used,” Spencer calls dibs.

“I can't imagine anybody could want this to happen.”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll head to the hospital with you. The kid may not be able to tell the doctor anything, but I certainly can. I’ll be able to see what really happened if his mother allows it.”

“Good,” Gideon nods once. “We need all the answers we can get.”

The hospital is buzzing with panic, fear, sadness, and grief. Many people are dying in this hospital, and to someone like you, you’re not sure you can be here for much longer. Hotch, Gideon, and the rest of the team don’t really understand how this all affects you. Normal people like the ones on your team see this hospital for what it is. They see people grieving and people crying, but they allow themselves to be separated from their emotions. They can walk into a loud crowd and tune out all the conversations and emotions without even thinking about it.

Not you. You’re completely different.

You walk into a crowd, and you’re overwhelmed by not only the physical sensation of people all around you, but your mind is also crowded. Your mind goes into overdrive as it inspects each person to make sure they are not a threat. To make sure that they are who they say they are. A normal person can see a kid walking down the street and not know they are kidnapped while you are able to determine that.

You walk into this hospital, and every single emotion of every single nurse, doctor, patient, and family member immediately go to your shoulders. Someone can be dying on the very top floor, and you’d feel how sad their family members are as they watch their beloved ones slip away. There could be someone in the next room receiving bad news, and it’ll be like you’re receiving the same news. It’s not fun living with your abilities, and you’ve caught yourself wishing it would all just end. However, you think about everyone you’ve saved, and it somehow all makes it okay.

“Detective Hanover, Beechwood PD,” the detective that was on the surveillance tape introduces himself to you, Gideon, and Hotch.

“Agent Hotchner, this is Agent Gideon and Agent Y/L/N.”

“Thanks for coming down on such short notice. The doctor said he may have permanent brain damage. I've never seen anything like this,” he sighs and looks at Eric, the little boy who was beaten by his own father.

“Well, let's hope we can help him.”

“Have you had a chance to review the victim's files?”

“We're especially interested in talking to the boy's father,” Gideon says.

“We'd like to get a sense of why he turned violent while the lab analyzes the specific nature of the LSD he was dosed with. we'd like to get our own sense: was it the drug itself or was there something else going on? Hopefully, that can give us a little bit of a window into the motive of the offender,” Hotch explains.

“He's in the psych ward.”

“Well, we'll keep it short,” Gideon replies.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll meet up with you two. I’m going to talk to the mother,” you offer, and Hotch just nods.

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[auroracalisto]

the beauty of breathing

summary: the reader has abusive parents and lives in the murder house.  tate has only just realized that they have abusive parents and chooses to do something about it, all depending on what the reader chooses.  

pairing: tate langdon

word count: 1k words

warnings: mentions of abuse, slight physical abuse, abusive parents, mentions of death, preluded mention of death towards the end, possibly ooc tate bc first time writing for him

author’s notes: this is my first time writing for tate,,, but it is not the first time that i’ve read anything about him.  i recently started ahs after a couple weeks of debating and let me just say, i am so excited to be able to write for this new character.  i still have many episodes to watch before i can write for many of the favorites, but i’ll let everyone know once i am able to write for other characters (like michael and xavier!  and many others, those are just two off the top of my head).  

Having abusive parents was bad enough.  Them uprooting you from your home and taking you to California to live in something people call the Murder House?  Even worse.  The bruises were things that you could hide.  But when you went to school, there wasn’t a damn thing you could hide once people realized that you lived in the Murder House.  People started avoiding you, save for this one girl named July.  She was sweet.  But you sometimes wondered if she was only friends with you because you lived in a creepy place.  

You trudged up the staircase to your house, keeping your book bag close to your body.  You saw a tuft of blonde hair in the corner of your eye and you quickly looked, your fist clenched around your book bag strap as you did.  You knew it was just him—the ghost boy that lived in your home.  When you didn’t see anything, you went into the house and quietly shut the door.  

Once your parents knew you were home, you would be picked at until sunrise.  

Maybe that’s what you hated so much about Fridays’.  Everyone at school loved them.  But every time you left school, every time you shut that damn front door, it was nearly three days filled with torture and cruel mishappenings that the house decided to send your way.  

“Boo,” a soft voice came from behind you.  You quickly turned around, your eyes growing wide as you spotted the blonde again.  You clenched your jaw, shoving the boy’s shoulder.  

“Tate, fuck off,” you glared at him, clearing your throat.  

“Honey, who was that?” 

Your mother’s voice came from the kitchen.  If you ever had anyone over, they both pulled over a veil of fake kindness and love.  

“Uh,” you swallowed thickly before you looked over your shoulder, seeing your mother come out into the hallway with a sickly sweet smile.  “Just a… friend from school.  I have this project that.. it’s like, worth fifty percent of my grade and he’s gonna help me with it.”

She raised an eyebrow before she nodded.  “I’ll let your father know.  Go ahead and go upstairs, get a move on with it.  Don’t take forever, we have plans this evening.”

You gave a small nod, looking back at Tate.  He followed behind you as you walked up the staircase.  

“Has your mom always been that nice?” Tate asked as the two of you walked into your room.  

You tossed your bookbag onto your bed, frowning over at the teen.

“No.  You just disappear when she’s not nice.”

Tate averted his eyes before he crossed his arms over his chest.  He suddenly gained a smile.  “Did I scare you earlier?” he asked.  

You frowned at him.  “No—”

His smile only widened.  “Sure I didn’t.”

He came over and plopped down on your bed. 

Earlier, you hadn’t lied to your mother.  You truly did have an assignment to work on.  You sat down beside him on the bed, going through your papers.  But your search for your homework was cut short as your father suddenly swung your door open.  It slammed against the wall, causing your head to shoot up.  Tate quickly sat up, looking over at the man with a confused expression.  What the hell was he so angry about?

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?  Get out of that bed,” he seethed, coming over to you and grabbing your arm.  He jerked you to your feet, his grip bruising tight.  Tate stood up as well, watching in literal horror.  What was going on?  He was always in the Murder House.  Why hadn’t he seen this before?

Your father let go of your arm, shoving you against the wall by pushing your shoulders.  “And you,” he spit in Tate’s direction.  “Get the fuck out of my house.  Who the fuck do you think you are?”

Tate looked at you for a moment, his jaw clenching.  He stared your father down and in an instant, Tate was in front of the two of you.  He shoved your father off with a strength unknown to you.  He took a hold of your hand and began to run with you, pulling you all the way down to the basement, where the two of you often found yourselves talking.  He heard your father shouting after the two of you, but he didn’t say anything until he got you into a corner.  

“Stay here.  I… I’m going to take care of them.  Got it?”

You stared at him in disbelief, tears stinging your eyes.  You gave a small nod.  

Tate bent down in front of you, grabbing your hands.  He pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles.  “Nothing like… that'll ever happen again.  I promise.  I can fix that for you,” he said.  “Only if you want me to.”

“How?” you breathed in, looking up at the brown eyed boy.  

“I’ll kill them.”

“What?” your eyes widened.  

“Or…”

“Or what, Tate?” you asked, gripping onto his hands.  It scared you a bit, but nothing scared you more than your parents.  

“You can die.  And then… you can stay here.  With me.  You won’t ever have to deal with them again.  And we can make them pay.  Together.”

“Together…?”

He grinned at you, knowing you were thinking about his offer.  “Together.  And they can piss off in hell.”

You heard your father shout your voice as he began to walk down the stairs.  He didn’t rush; he knew there was nowhere that you could really go, unless you went outside.  Even then, he would have heard the door.  It was loud as could be, and he had made sure of that the first time you tried to escape.  

You looked up at Tate, your tears drying on your cheeks.  “Okay.  Do… do it.  Do what you have to.”

Tate watched you with soft eyes and he pressed a kiss to your forehead.  “Close your eyes for me, [Your name].  I… please.”

You did as you were told.  

Before long, shortly after you heard your father angrily yell for you to come out of where you were hiding, you felt hands wrap around your neck.  It was only a matter of time before you hopefully woke up in front of Tate, just like he seemed to be promising.  

[transgenderteensurvivalguide]

hey :/ i started to realize that i was a trans man around the same time my ex realized he was, too. we came out to each other and he thinks i’m copying him. advice??

Lee says:

We’ve gotten versions of this question from folks on both sides in the past. People have said things like “I came out and then my little sister came out, I think she’s copying my gender/identity and I don’t like it!” and folks who say stuff like “My friend came out and then I came out, and now she thinks I’m copying her gender/identity and I don’t like it!” 

Indeed, it’s common for one person to come out and then another person follows suit! But this doesn't mean that the second person is “faking” their identity and copying the first person because they were jealous of the attention the first person got for coming out.

It’s common for LGBTQ folks to be friends with each other before any of them realize that they’re LGBTQ. Somehow, we just seem to attract each other! And a lot of trans people only start identifying as trans once they learn more about the trans community and spend time interacting with trans people, whether it’s online or IRl, so someone spending time with a trans person and then identifying as trans doesn’t mean that being trans is contagious, or that the person is faking it- it means they just learned more about being trans and realized it fits them too.

Using myself as an example- I had a friend who came out as non-binary, and the next year I came out as non-binary too. I wasn’t “copying” my friend per se. But I wasn’t really aware of being non-binary before that, so them coming out made it something on my radar. It made me realize that being non-binary is something that exists and something that a person can be and choose to identify as.

Seeing them take that path planted that little seed in my mind and eventually (after having folks as me if I was trans) I realized that yeah I’m non-binary too. I came out after they did because they helped me question my own gender which made me realize that I’m also non-binary, so they did influence me in a way, and seeing them come out gave me the courage/inspiration/motivation to come out myself.

Now of course it’s been several years... and I’m still non-binary! And so is my friend! Just because they came out first and I didn’t know I was trans for a while, it didn’t make their gender “realer” than mine is now, or any more valid.

That’s why friends, family members, and partners tend to come out around the same time. The first person comes out, and that makes the second person question their gender because they didn’t know as much about being trans before, and then they come out too. Or maybe both people knew they were trans already, but one person came out which helped lay down the groundwork for the other person to feel comfortable coming out too because they had a better idea of how someone would react. Or both people realized they were trans and came out at the same time independently- that happens too! 

Regardless of how things happened, you both identify as trans and that’s something that needs to be respected. Even if someone was “faking” for some reason and copying someone’s gender, using a different name and pronouns for them until they get tired of it isn’t really going to hurt anyone- and you don’t know if they’re faking, so you should give them the benefit of doubt. Nobody can peer into someone’s head and figure out their gender for them- if someone says that they’re trans, you have to take them at their word because there’s no “Trans Test” that you can take to determine if they’re truly trans. 

You can talk more about why you identify as trans if you want, but you shouldn’t ever feel like you have to “defend” and justify your identity; you don’t need to share more than you feel comfortable sharing. And even if him realizing he was trans had any influence or impact on your realization, it doesn’t mean that you’re copying or any less trans- there’s no shame in that, and it shouldn’t be something you have to hide or pretend isn’t true. 

If you feel like he’s a good friend to you otherwise and you want to invest your emotional energy into trying to maintain a friendship with him, you can tell him you need to have a serious conversation with him and then explain that you genuinely feel that you are a man and you were hurt that he’s accused you of pretending to be trans/faking your gender/copying his gender, and remind him that it’s never okay to misgender you or say something that invalidates your gender identity. 

If he keep saying shitty things after you’ve had a talk with him, then you need to just move on! Stop wasting your time and emotional energy engaging with this guy. Tell him that you can’t be friends with someone who won’t respect your identity and you won’t be spending any more time with him until and unless he changes his behavior.

Then actually do it! Block and unfollow him on social media and block his phone number and delete his contact if you have to. Hang out with different friends instead!

If you have a shared group of friends, make it clear to them that you’re uncomfortable when people misgender and disrespect you. Make sure you tell them what this guy has said to you and how it’s hurt you, then explain that you don’t want them to hold any group get-togethers with this guy because he’s creating a hostile environment for you (or at least tell them not to invite him to events you’ll be at too unless they’re going to take the responsibility of actively calling him out and correcting him).

Personally, I’d advise just blocking/ignoring him and moving on. While some people can be friends with ex-partners, I have the feeling things aren’t going great between the two of you from the connotation of you calling him your “ex” and not your friend. It can be hard to move on (trust me! I know! I never get over things or move on from anything, ever!) but sometimes you have to remind yourself that this person isn’t actually making your life better and you need to take care of yourself and disengage from them.

Breakups and ending relationships/friendships:

How should I end a relationship?

Ending unhealthy relationships

6 steps to ending a toxic relationship with a friend or partner

How to break up gracefully

wikiHow to Break Up

How To Break Up Like a Grown Up

How To Break Up With Somebody In 7 Steps

How To Dump Someone (Like An Actual Adult)

Fire Your Friends: Drop The Negative People In Your Life

6 Ways To Cut A Toxic Friend Out Of Your Life For Good

3 ways to end a toxic friendship

What to do when one of the friends in your friend group is bad to you

After a breakup:

10 Tips on How to Work Through Feelings of Social Isolation

5 ways to beat loneliness

Coping with a relationship breakup

7 phrases to help you get over a breakup

Dealing with a breakup

Help for when a relationship ends

Beyond codependency

It’s okay to be alone

5 things to remember when you still love the emotionally abusive partner you left

5 helpful things when you end a relationship

How the 7 stages of grief apply to breakups

7 ways to cope with post-split stress

How to deal with losing a friend

Letting go of someone who’s not good for you

What if my ex starts outing me as trans?

Followers, any advice for an anon whose ex-partner accuses them of “copying” their gender identity?

Followers say:

lesbean-on-ice said: I don’t really have any advice, but i can really relate to this post. my best friend, who I’ve known since kindergarten, and I started to question our genders around the same time, and we both went through multiple labels to find the right fit for us. she ended up landing on agender, and I thought I was girlflux at the time, but after reading up on the agender label, I realized that was my gender (or lack thereof, lol) as well!

am-anyone said: It can also be gained confidence that causes people to come out at the same time. I knew I was trans and when my friend came out to our friend group it gave me enough confidence to also come out in short succession afterwards. It wasn’t cause of copying but simply I felt less nervous knowing someone had successfully come out already.