#Cliche? Yes

[bunnyreaper]

simon riley who is the one who rescues you when you're taken hostage by an enemy pmc, fighting through hell just to get you back.

simon riley who doesn't hesitate to take his mask off so as to not frighten you further. it doesn't matter that you've never seen his face, or that he's breaking down his barriers, all that matters is that you don't shake when you look at him.

simon riley who carries you out of there, safe in the warmth of his arms that hold you like he'll let you go again.

simon riley whose heart breaks because he recognises the haunted look in your beautiful eyes, and he knows he'd do anything to see them sparkle like they used to.

simon riley who slowly acclimates you to being touched again (it totally is just for you, he swears). soft brushes of his pinky against yours, a guiding hand on your back, picking a piece of fluff out of your hair.

simon riley who doesn't ask questions when you find comfort cuddling into his broad chest, because he knows mentioning it would only make you feel bad. he doesn't want to lose the way you only find peace cuddled up next to him.

simon riley who kisses your forehead but only when you're asleep, because he still has secrets to keep. he doesn't think you feel the same way, he just thinks you see a protector.

simon riley who cares even if he doesn't have the right words to tell you.

simon riley who loves you, and spends every day thankful he didnt lose you.

[is-the-owl-video-cute]

Are there any tropes you particularly enjoy in media? Just the first that come to mind

I am a sucker for “the villain/monster was redeemable and just needed a new perspective” to be honest I eat that every time.

[acourtofchaos]

thinking about best friend!theo, who considers marriage a death sentence, losing his mind when he finds out your parents are going to force you to go on dates with potential marriage prospects when you return home. leading to him persuading you to let him steal you away to italy for the summer so he can keep you out of your their clutches and away from the boys on their list who he knows won’t treat you the way you deserve

he's trying to find a way out of the whole thing whilst also showing you around his home and maybe theo should have known it was dangerous to let you into this part of his life he's given no one else access to but god, you're his best friend, practically the other half of his soul, and he can't imagine letting anyone else have this piece of him

besides, it doesn't seem like such a bad idea, not at least until a few weeks pass and there's a new kind of bloom in chest when he looks at you that only grows the harder he tries to fight it and the answer to your problems suddenly lies in a proposal he's too afraid to offer 

[turtleneckandtee]

tattooist vash & florist wolfwood

an au that has been dwelling on my mind from the years back 🪡🪴

[tragedy-machine]

Envision - Edwin and Charles are tasked by some sort of a supernatural being to find their missing grandson (a werewolf or a centaur maybe?)

They do and Charles is unsurprisingly brilliant with the child, who's very timid and quiet, but slowly warms up to Charles on their way back to his grandfather

Edwin doesn't know how to handle children, so he keeps his contact with the boy at minimum, that is, until as they almost reach the child's village, the kid stops in his tracks and refuses to come back home

They talk to him and try to convince him to cooperate, but the boy bursts into tears and says that his parents, siblings and classmates don't really like him and that's why he ran away in the first place

It makes Edwin think about his own experience at St. Hilarion, so he softens and squats next to the child to look into his teary eyes and tells him that he relates to the boy's problems

That later on in life he can actually choose his own family, one that will accept him as he is, just as Edwin has, and that he already has a person in his corner right now - his grandfather who even hired detectives to find him

Edwin asks the boy what his hobbies are and upon hearing he likes to read, Edwin responds, "So do I. You see, there are many people out there who will share your hobbies, who will like you and treat you like their family, you just have to find them and never lose hope."

And Charles just looks at Edwin fondly, thinking about how they found each other against all odds and became best friends, became family, and how lucky they are have each other

The child is starstruck and silent for a moment, but his tears dry and he reaches out a small hand to hold Edwin's and agrees to go back

After a few minutes, the boy looks up at Edwin and says "When I grow up, I'm gonna marry you, so you'll also become my family and we will read together"

And Edwin sputters in shocked embarrassment and doesn't know how to answer, and Charles just laughs at the scene they make, ruffles the kid's hair and tells him, while looking at Edwin, "Not if I marry him first"

Edwin is too stunned to speak or even to fully register the world around them, as the three of them finally reach their destination, with Charles and the kid bantering playfully the rest of the way, but he still feels the warmth in his chest

[professorcalculusstanaccount]

tfw you realise you’re in love with your best friend and it’s the 1930s

Happy Lunar New Year! 

[caelanglang]

Letter to Mackerel… I miss you to the stars and back

continuation of the childhood AU I made :3

I hope our planets collide again...

continuation here

[takofuus]

Late nights are the loneliest, not with you though

[shevr]

yea we bnuuy move along

[milkcioccolato]

"A Night Out" Page 18

Maul: *looking at the view* wow, it’s so beautiful!

Obi-Wan: *looking at Maul* yes. yes, it is.

[tee-dohrnii]

I don't know if I'll ever finish this WIP but I sketched this out so fast it's insane

Gale from my Until We Wake comic (that I REALLY want to draw but still struggle on how to properly draw it)

Look at how fast I pulled this Gale out of nowhere because what??

[scarefox]

Here have some scientific elaboration for the people who still are in denial that Babe is bottoming. And not Charlie possibly riding him.

(I heard some folks didn't want to believe Babe is a bottom since ep1. I also saw such comments for a different drama where people were in denial for the same stupid reasons) 🤷‍♂️

Or maybe I just love that they very subtly show Babes leg position. Very minimal but they show it.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk

[feyd-meowtha]

Christmas AU officially has a title and it is Take Me Home, Country Roads!

To celebrate have this lil moodboard of highly strung Yuppie Gale Cleven in the late 80s. A man who is about the have simultaneously the best and worst two days of his life.

[maybe-boys-do-love]

A Tale of a Thousand Stars answers the age-old question: What if Hallmark movies were good?

[phdmama]

Hey lovely, how about 43 from the smut dialogue list if you’re still looking for inspo - and maybe buddie as the ship? (I may have started reading a few fics and it might be about to become a problem…) but any ship that takes your fancy if you’re prefer!

Hello my dear pal!! I am so so excited you're reading some Buddie!! xox

I am so sorry this took this long to write (I've had some real rollercoaster ups and downs over the past few days with this silly broken leg bullshit). So anyway - here is where my brain went! (Keep in mind, I am lots of painkillers and have barely written in months!)

43. “Slowly, baby, I’m not going anywhere.”

Show My Mouth (Your Favorite Places)

Buddie, ~2300 words, Explicit tags: getting together, first time, Eddie Diaz has yet another close call, gratuitous use of italics, only lightly beta'd by me, set somewhere vaguely post season 7ish?

They’re barely through the door of Buck’s loft and Buck immediately has Eddie backed up against it, reaching out to run a hand over Eddie’s chest.

“I’m fine, Buck,” Eddie says again, and yeah, okay, it’s probably the tenth time he’s repeated the words but that was too close a call, and Buck says as much as Eddie tips his head back against the door, his eyes closed.

“Take your shirt off,” Buck says, reaching for the hem of Eddie’s t-shirt. It’s dirty and torn and Eddie doesn’t protest, doesn’t even open his eyes, just lifts his arms and lets Buck pull the rough fabric over his head.

“If you wanted to get me out of my clothes, all you had to do was ask,” Eddie says and Buck freezes.

“I just. I need to see you’re okay,” he says finally, and Eddie just smiles. 

“Help yourself. I told you, the thing barely grazed me.”

Buck doesn’t answer, just flips on the light and runs his hands lightly over Eddie’s chest. There are some scrapes, a few spots that will probably bruise, but Buck has to admit Eddie is probably right, the damage is superficial. Buck doesn’t really pay attention to what his hands are doing, caught in the memory of the way the tree had come down and for one, brief, terrifying moment he’d thought… He’d thought. That’s all.

He’s still thinking, lost in it when Eddie says, his voice rough, “Buck.”

“What?” Buck startles back to the moment and realizes he’s been, well. 

He’s been gently stroking Eddie’s bare chest, and Eddie’s eyes are open now, dark and intense, fixed on Buck’s face. His skin is slightly goosebumped and his nipples are tight buds on his broad chest. Buck rips his gaze away and swallows, his throat dry.

He’s worked so hard to just be chill, is the thing. After he and Tommy broke up (no real drama, just Tommy gently letting him down), Buck has been so, well. Aware of men, is the thing. Men in general and one man in particular. Buck knows he’s been weird about Eddie from the very beginning, and he knows Eddie is just as weird about him, and there have been moments where he’s thought… maybe… but he’s never been sure. Never seen a look on Eddie’s face like the one currently leveled at him.

“Are you, um. Are you cold?” he whispers and Eddie’s mouth curves.

“Not even a bit,” Eddie says, and his voice is so low and gravelly, it legitimately sends a shiver down Buck’s spine.

“Are you in pain?”

Eddie just shakes his head, not breaking his gaze. 

“I, just.” Buck’s heart is pounding. It feels like an avalanche in his chest, and under his hands, he can feel Eddie’s heart racing, just as fast. “Eddie,” Buck says, his voice pleading, although he doesn’t even know what it is he’s asking for. 

Eddie knows though, the way Eddie always knows.

Eddie simply replies, “Buck,” and then lays one hand over one of Buck’s where it’s still resting on his bare skin. 

For one brief, agonizing moment, Buck worries that Eddie is pushing his hand away, but it immediately becomes clear that's not what’s happening. Eddie is not pushing Buck’s hand away, he’s pushing it down. Eddie slides Buck’s hand down over his own toned abdomen, slowly enough that Buck can feel the expansion as Eddie takes a deep breath, and then, oh god. Then he shifts Buck’s hand even lower to where he’s hard in his LAFD sweats.

Buck stares at him as Eddie presses his hand to the hard length of him under the rough cotton. “Eddie,” he whispers.

“I’m not cold,” Eddie says quietly. “I’m not in pain. I don’t need you to fuss over me.”

“Then what,” Buck swallows. “What do you need?”

Eddie just grins, and he lifts the hand that’s not pressing Buck’s against his cock to curve it around Buck’s face. 

“I think you know,” is all he says and Buck breaks.

He surges forward, tightening his fingers around the hard shaft under his hand as he pushes forward, his mouth landing on Eddie’s. Buck is frantic, gasping as he lets himself go, lets himself take what he’s been longing for for so long. He’s afraid that this might be his only chance, that if he takes his time, Eddie will change his mind.

But Eddie doesn’t seem inclined that way. He meets Buck in the middle, strength for strength, passion for passion, kiss for kiss, until he begins to gentle things between them. 

Eddie pulls back, and whispers, “Slowly, baby, I’m not going anywhere.”

He leans back in and this time he sets the pace with deep, slow kisses, syrupy-sweet, until Buck thinks his knees might genuinely give out.

“Buck,” Eddie whispers and shifts, letting his mouth move over Buck’s face to his neck, a quick nip to the sensitive skin behind Buck’s ear that has Buck groaning and shaking. “Buck, baby. Let me take you to bed.”

“Too far,” Buck mumbles, turning his head to catch Eddie’s lips with his own. “Can’t wait.”

“Couch then,” Eddie insists and doesn’t stop kissing Buck, just gently herds him backwards through the apartment until Buck’s dropping onto his couch and pulling Eddie down with him.

For several moments, Buck doesn’t think about anything at all except the feel of Eddie’s chest against his own, the taste of Eddie’s mouth, Eddie’s hand in his hair as they kiss. He finally has to pull back to take a deep gasping breath, and just stares at Eddie over him.

“Is this… is this really happening?” Buck finds himself asking and Eddie grins, drops a quick kiss to the tip of his nose.

“It is if you want it to be.”

Buck just blinks at him. “I didn’t know. How did I not know you wanted this?”

Eddie shrugs, shifts his weight off of Buck so he can pull Buck up to sitting. “Let’s just say… when you started dating Tommy, I figured a few things out.”

“You didn’t say anything.”

Eddie shakes his head. “Of course not, Buck. You and Tommy, well. You were happy. Having fun. I didn’t think this was possible, but then when you guys broke up, and we were back to hanging out all the time. I started to think that maybe…” his voice trails off as he hooks his fingers under the hem of Buck’s t-shirt and starts to remove it. 

Buck automatically lifts his arms. “Have you ever… with a guy?”

Eddie just smiles, shakes his head. “Never let myself even think about it when I was young, and then. I guess it was just never the right time. Until now.” He lifts his hand, brushes his knuckles across Buck’s cheekbone, skates his hand down to curl it around Buck’s jaw. “I want to, though. With you, if you want that.”

Buck stares at him. “If I want that? Eddie. Of course I want that. I just. What does it mean?”

Eddie leans in, kisses him once and then again. He feels so good that Buck can’t help but groan as Eddie’s mouth moves to his collar bones as he slowly pushes Buck down onto his back, slides between his legs.

Eddie lifts his head after pressing one last kiss to Buck’s chest. “It means whatever you want,” he says finally.

“But,” Buck is compelled to ask, “what if it changes everything?”

Eddie laughs, low and rough. “Of course it’ll change everything, Buck, and I want that. I don’t think it’ll take anything away though. It’s just another way for me to love you, and I already do, so…”

He pauses and Buck grabs him by the shoulders. 

“Up, up, up here now,” he says frantically, suddenly sure that if he can’t kiss Eddie immediately, he may genuinely die.

Eddie snickers and Buck realizes he’s said that last part out loud. Then Eddie’s mouth is back on him, and Buck stops thinking at all.

He’s aware that this is Eddie’s first time with a guy (and holy hell, that’s a thought so hot that Buck’s brain might melt out of his ears) but there’s nothing in the way Eddie’s moving against him that suggests any hesitation about what they're doing. He lines them up, hard cocks pressed together, both of them still in their sweatpants, and sets up a slow, filthy grind. It’s good, so fucking good, that all Buck can do is wrap his legs around Eddie, grab onto his shoulders, and hold on.

Eddie’s kissing him again, those same deep, slow kisses, his tongue fucking into Buck’s mouth in counterpart to the way their bodies are moving together. Buck’s got his hands firmly planted on Eddie’s ass now, and it’s just as spectacular as Buck always thought it would be, especially with Eddie gasping into his mouth, sexy punched out groans that bring Buck closer and closer to the edge.

“How do you…” Buck starts and then shudders at a particularly innovative shift of Eddie’s hips. “Eddie, fuck, how…”

“How what, babe?” Eddie whispers against his lips, not letting up on the way he’s rolling his hips for even a moment.

“How do you want to come?” Buck finally grits out, holding on by sheer force of will now.

The question seems to surprise Eddie and he eases up now, rocking his hips so slowly as he considers Buck’s face.

“I mean,” Eddie says and then a wicked grin crosses his face. “You’re the expert here, Buckley. Walk me through it. What are the options?”

Buck stares up at Eddie and then can’t help himself, starts to laugh, deep belly laughs as his head drops back onto the couch cushions. “Not an expert,” he gasps finally, and sweeps his hands from where they’re resting on Eddie’s shoulders down his arms to his wrists and then back up again, to link his fingers behind Eddie’s head, pulling him in for a kiss. “Journeyman at best.”

Eddie is still grinning and rolls his eyes affectionately. “Fine. Journeyman. Whatever.”

Buck kisses him again, reaches down to grab Eddie’s hips and pulls them flush to his own, before working his way down Eddie’s neck.

“Lots of options,” he mumbles into Eddie’s collar bones. 

Eddie is grinding against Buck harder now, gasping, and Buck can taste the sweat on Eddie’s chest under his tongue. 

“We can keep doing this,” Buck manages to say and then groans at the way Eddie feels. “Fuck, that’s so. Oh my god, Eddie.”

“What else?” Eddie pants.

“I could… oh shit, Eddie, I could.” Buck swallows, his own breathing ragged in his ears. “I could suck you, jerk you off, whatever you want. You could fuck me,” and Eddie goes rigid above him, head thrown back, tendons in his neck standing out in stark relief as he lets out the sexiest sound Buck has ever heard, and Buck feels Eddie’s cock jerk as he starts to come.

For a long moment, the silence in the room is broken by the harsh sounds of Eddie’s breathing. Then Eddie opens his eyes, and the look on his face cracks Buck’s heart wide open. Eddie looks astonished, awed almost, as if his entire worldview has been shaken, and maybe it has, Buck thinks, remembering some of his own recent revelations. Maybe it has.

Eddie stares down at Buck as his breathing starts to settle, and the weight of him pressing Buck into the couch is as intoxicating as it is reassuring. There’s something so raw and honest about this moment — the way Eddie’s eyes are fixed on Buck’s face, the damp heat between them, the smell of sex intermingled with the scent of the peonies Buck bought at the Farmer’s Market the other day. Buck feels like every sense he has, and maybe some he didn’t even know about, are dialed all the way in.

“Buck,” Eddie breathes and his smile makes Buck’s throat tighten and his eyes prickle suspiciously. “My god, Buck.”

Eddie leans down and brushes a kiss across Buck’s lips, gentle and sweet, but as he does so, the extra pressure on Buck’s aching cock makes him hiss, his hips jerking up not of his volition.

“Oh fuck,” Eddie says, and without further ado, slides down Buck’s body and sticks his hand down Buck’s pants.

It doesn’t take long after that. Objectively, it’s nowhere near the best handjob Buck’s ever had — Eddie’s hand is dry, his grip a bit too tight, and his rhythm isn’t great, but none of that matters because it’s Eddie staring down at him, Eddie whispering things like “God, Buck, you’re so gorgeous, sweetheart, c’mon baby, give it to me,” and Buck is helpless to do anything but obey.

It feels to Buck like his orgasm is being drawn out from the very depths of his being, starting deep in his belly and rolling over him like the tide, inevitable and inexorable. Eddie keeps muttering words of encouragement, and when Buck’s head tilts back and his back arches, Eddie grins in satisfaction.

“There you go, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “Just like that.”

It turns out Eddie is mistaken. They clean up, make some dinner, collapse on the couch with their food and beers, and it’s no different than any other normal post-shift hangout. In the morning, Eddie good-naturedly submits to the ice packs Buck presses against his bruises, lets Buck make him coffee and bring it to him on the couch. No different from any other close call aftermath.

But Eddie’s never spent the night at Buck’s like that. Never brushed his teeth side by side with Buck before crawling into bed, wrapping himself around Buck like an octopus, the bare skin of his chest pressed to Buck’s back, his hand resting possessively on Buck’s hip. He’s never brushed a kiss to the sensitive skin at the nape of Buck’s neck. And he’s never said I love you quite like this before. So yeah, it turns out that he was also 100% correct. It changes everything.

And it’s amazing.

[scyllas-revenge]

A Shield Against the Snow

yet another only one bed scenario, because I’m obsessed with them

Boromir/Reader (gender neutral)

Word count: 1,472

Rating: T

Here’s my next installment of How to Cope with a Middle Earth Bed Shortage, this time with our beloved Boromir! (previous chapters include Eomer/Reader and Legolas/Reader).

Read on AO3!

“We’ll have to share.”

Boromir turned to look at you incredulously as you held your bedroll out to him, and for a moment you feared that your suppressed longing had revealed itself in your shaking voice. But your whole body was shaking with cold as it was, and it seemed you were safe.

“It’s our only option,” you added weakly.

Boromir had lost half his supplies in the snow hours earlier, nearly tumbling into a ravine in the treacherous climb up Caradhras. The two of you had gone scouting ahead for a safer path, but were now facing a night in a snowstorm alone, lost, freezing, and with a single bedroll between you.

“Nonsense.” He turned away, looking irritated. “Go to sleep, and I will keep watch.”

“Keep watch for what?” You gestured to the forest of boulders and ice, ominous in the dying evening light. Too inhospitable even for a campfire. “There’s nothing out here but snow.”

Boromir pulled his cloak tighter around himself and didn’t answer.

“If you’re not going to sleep, we might as well keep walking,” you went on, raising your voice over the biting wind. “We might be able to catch up with the Fellowship by dawn.”

“So late, and in this blizzard? The sun is setting, and soon we will be utterly blind!”

You jabbed a gloved finger at him in triumph. “Then how do you expect to keep watch?”

“I—” But you had bested him, and he scowled. “Just go to sleep.”  

“You’re being ridiculous!”

“The Men of Gondor can outlast a little snow.”

“Boromir, you’ll freeze—”

“I cannot share your bed!” He was breathing hard. “I cannot. I beg you, do not ask me again.”

You had expected a show of protest—Boromir always was a stickler for propriety—but the vehemence of his refusal stung. All these weeks the Fellowship had traveled together, he had never spoken so coldly to you. Always he had been kind, warm, talkative, seeking to walk by your side or offer you extra food at mealtimes. There had even been moments when his hand had rested on your shoulder, his eyes fairly glowing with what you had thought—what you had hoped was…

“I thought you were more practical than this.” Bitterness sharpened your voice to a swordpoint. “Would you truly rather freeze than lie beside me for a night? Just to stay warm?”

“Yes.”

He may as well have slapped you. Valar, he hadn’t even hesitated. But the shock of pain subsided quickly, fury taking its place. “Yes?” You stormed toward him, the bedroll shaking in your gloved fists. But the snow had frozen slick on the rocks at your feet, and Boromir’s hand darted out to steady you as you slipped.

Your eyes locked. He was all tension, jaw clenched, fingers tightening on your arm. Something desperate warred behind his eyes.

“Yes?” The word ghosted from your lips in a puff of white, a furious challenge.

“Yes.” His grip tightened, tightened, nearly painful. “For your warmth would burn me.”

“What?”

His breath billowed out in uneven clouds before him, anguish roughening his voice. “To lie beside you, to feel you pressed against me all through the night, to feign indifference all the while—” He released you and stepped away, shaking his head. “It would destroy me utterly.”

You stopped feeling the cold at once. 

Boromir must have seen the shock in your eyes and stepped back again. “Forgive me. I had hardly wished to burden you with my desires, least of all now, here.”

“Desires? But how—how long have you…”

He lowered his eyes. “You will think me a barbarian, for I have wished to share your bed since first we met. Though I admit, I had imagined rather different circumstances than this. I am sorry to bring you discomfort,” he added, misreading your stunned silence. “Sorrier still to threaten our friendship. But you understand now why you must sleep alone.”

The bitter wind whipped at Boromir’s hair. Squaring his shoulders against the cold, he turned away into the darkness to begin his watch.

“Wait.” You shook your head breathlessly, finding your voice at last. “No. Share with me. Please.”

You set down your bedroll in the shelter of a little rocky outcropping, in as much shelter as could be found from the wind, and turned back to him.

But the desire in your voice had been lost in the freezing wind. “I cannot…” His mouth moved, but no sound came out. Misery twisted his features, and he stepped back once more.

You came to him instead, reaching out a gloved hand to sweep the snow from his broad shoulders, your fingers lingering on his collar in a gesture he couldn’t possibly misunderstand. “It’s so cold, Boromir,” you whispered. “Let me keep you warm.”

A shudder ran the length of his body, and he pulled you into his arms so urgently that he stumbled in the snow, gathering you to his chest with a breathless laugh. “Yes,” was all he managed to say. “Yes, love.” 

And you kissed him.

Boromir’s lips were cold and chapped, but so were yours, and it was a sweeter kiss by far than any you'd conjured up during your long journey together. You melted into his embrace, heedless of the wind biting at your skin, and you clung to each other tighter even than the snow clung to your hair and cloaks.

Already you were warmer than you’d been in weeks. That wasn’t saying much, of course, considering how long the Fellowship had been hiking in the snow. And while Boromir’s mouth was invitingly warm, you felt no heat from his gloved hands, nor the snow-encrusted cloaks and furs between your bodies.

You shivered in his arms. Without speaking, you both trudged, still clinging to one another, to your bedroll, climbing hurriedly inside and draping your snow-encrusted coats and cloaks over the covers for extra warmth. It was more cramped than you’d anticipated, but you found you didn’t mind. The length of Boromir’s body was pressed tight to yours, and you grinned, nuzzling even closer to him.

Boromir wrapped his arms around you, drawing the covers as far over your heads as you could to shelter you from the wind. And without wasting a moment he slanted his lips over yours again, his fingers carding through your hair. He still wore his bulky gloves, making the gesture more uncomfortable than romantic. You laughed fondly and drew away.

“Let me.” You untangled your hair from his glove and took his hands in yours. Inch by inch you slipped the worn leather from his fingers, first one hand and then the other. His eyes were locked on your movements, his breath hushed.

You removed your own gloves next, and the warmth of his bare skin against yours was more welcome than a roaring fire. You gathered his fingers in your smaller ones, heating them against your lips with a long breath. Gently, you massaged his heavy palms, his calloused fingers, his broad fingertips.

“Had I known what sharing a bed with you would be like,” Boromir whispered, eyes slipping shut contentedly, “I would have mislaid my bedroll days ago.”

You laughed, withdrawing one hand slowly to trace the side of his face with your fingertips—the unkempt beard, the weathered skin, the little lines at the sides of his mouth where his smile widened. You had never touched his face before, and you wondered how you’d managed to go so long without doing so.

Boromir mirrored your gesture, cupping your face in his hand. With his other he propped himself above you—protecting you from the worst of the elements even now—and kissed you as though he’d been thinking of nothing else all those weeks you’d traveled together.

He drew away only to press a kiss below your ear, his lips parting hot against your racing pulse. You gasped, arching into him—and the covers above you shifted, sending a flurry of snowflakes cascading into your faces.

The next minutes were spent spluttering, coughing, shivering, knocking knees and elbows as you hurried to readjust the blankets above your heads.

Peace fell again at last, and your breathing calmed.

The wind was quieter now, as though it regretted its former cruelty, and the sun was nearly gone—Boromir’s face was little more than a warm silhouette under the blankets.

“Is this better?” you whispered, the last of the snow finally brushed away.

Boromir swept a strand of your now-mussed hair from your forehead. “No. I wish I could feel more of you tonight.” His voice was soft, the words ghosting warm over your lips.

“So do I.” Your fingers played at the hem of his tunic. “Perhaps, if we were very careful…”

For a moment he looked tempted, but you both knew it was a foolish idea, and he drew your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “There will be time for that later, my love. I would hardly have you freeze to death now.”

“No, nor I you.”

He laughed softly. “You return my affection, dearest—how could anything harm me now?”