#also i am smiling at the absurdity of feeling guilty about talking about personal things... in a PERSONAL blog xd

[katyspersonal]

I would like to point out that I noticed you are a very powerful force in this situation either way. The people that like you and stand by you seem like real friends that ~really~ love you, but your haters hate hard. This is somehow actually inspiring. If anyone’s being provoked to react strongly, it’s the people around you. You are a force of nature. I love seeing you and your mutuals talk too. Reminds me of how good fandoms are sometimes.

Oh... This is so sweet.

Honestly, most of the times I feel completely helpless, far from "powerful". It is just not fun to make new mutuals and "friends" that will praise me for being inspirational, kind, fun and thoughtful and will be supposed to see that I genuinely like them, get enough evidence that I have a common sense... only to then have them read an obviously manipulative and trashing post from long time ago about me and simply block me without even attempting to talk to me about it or without even saying goodbye. It just leaves the question - am I really THIS worthless? Do people REALLY just throw positive emotions around without any meaning and never consider a person they """liked""" and called """friend""" worthy of any chance or benefit of the doubt?

But, again, it just brings the question of whether I even want any associates that believe rumours, lies and fear-mongering more than their own eyes to begin with. In the end, it is a free filter to separate thoughtful from gullible, genuine from shallow, strong from easily manipulated. Not to mention people that admitted they could see I am fine but simply didn't want to be pestered and ditching just one mutual is a small price for more fun and swell fandom experience. I speak the loudest about how beautiful truth is and how everything should fall on its true places, so am I suddenly upset when truth turns out to be against my favour? Does it hurt to know not many think I am worth the trouble of peer-pressure? Isn't it easy to support a thing only until you are at the SHORT end of it, huh? x)

There is no point to be angry at TRUTH, I am simply angry at the MEANS it had to be accomplished and accelerated to come up. And like you said, in the end I have true friends that love me the way I am and chose me over absence of peer pressure. I am thankful for every friend I have! I don't often talk about it because of trust issues, but really, I don't take actual friends and genuine mutuals for granted.

Uh... Well, if you enjoy the fandomry talks though, feel free to discuss things! Fandoms are not JUST about fanart, fanfics and shitposting - they are also about passion, exchange, discussions and debates. They survive thanks to any interest, but also? "Content" is temporary and expires as trends do. But it is PASSION about an interest that ensured this fandom survived over a decade. It is people TALKING and revisiting theories ya'll thought lorediggers were done with that makes people return to these stupid games over and over. x)

[tavarillasgalen]

Not sure what it says about me that I used to live for media that was like "ugh, of course it was a MAN who caused these problems" and "people should absolutely feel guilty for what people they may not even have any relation to did hundreds of years ago and Repent for it" and "omg this person didnt know about this obscure identity/sexuality, they're SUCH a bigot!!!!"

and now I read stuff like that and I'm just like... c'mon now. This is ridiculous.

99% sure it's just maturing, lol. And also distancing myself from people who would say things like (in all seriousness too, like... they were not joking in the slightest) that they hate "lighteyes" and strangers not immediately knowing your pronouns are something like ze/zem is beyond hateful. And having your "friends" say things like white cis women are the root of all evil, but then if you, as a white cis woman, are hurt or confused by why they are even friends with you then, that's you being racist and trying to make the world revolve around you instead of genuine like... if you hate people like me so much, why am I even in your life. And not being able to say anything, because no matter what, you were always "talking over" someone else, and you doing anything was "taking up space that should be given to someone else!!!" so i felt so guilty for wanting to pursue my dreams and wanting any sort of success because that meant i was "taking it away" from someone else. and there was always this unspoken competition among them all of who had it worse.

Like, after being in circles like that, and seeing how people take literally anything as a sign of hate, it made my anxiety go insane. Because I KNEW there are many people out there who would be like, omg, this person didnt look at me when we passed each other on the sidewalk, they're so bigoted!!! They think they're so much better than me, how awful!!! Omg, this person smiled at me when passing me on the sidewalk, they're trying SO HARD to seem like such a good ally, how fake!!! And like. You would think, with the ridiculous of that, that I'm exaggerating. But I'm not, in the slightest. That's what those far left people are like. Anything can be used as an example of sexism, of racism, of queerphobia, of literally anything.

And just, after distancing myself from that, I realized just how much I too had fallen prey to that mindset of being a perpetual victim and thinking anything ever was because of me. This person being short with me was OBVIOUSLY because of sexism, there's no way it could be because that person was just having a bad day!!

And then the longer its been since you've been around people like that, the more you realize just how... absurd that is. Like, sure, could someone be short with me because I'm a woman and they think women are stupid and overly emotional and exaggerate everything? Sure. But it's far more likely that if someone is short with me, it's because they've got their own things going on. And also, I could have done something or said something that was annoying or taken the wrong way.

Like, I'm not a conservative. But the conservatives are 100% right when they talk about how narcissistic that mindset is, to assume that anything ever has to do with you and anything that doesn't go how you want is a personal attack.

And like. It's a good thing to want positive change. But if you think even the slightest perceived transgression means that a person hates you and isn't actually on your side and they must be canceled and have their life ruined, like... you're doing far more harm than good, lol.

I WISH this post was an exaggeration. But this is genuinely what those "friends" were like. And I'm so glad I cut them off, lol. And I'm glad I stopped thinking the way they did because I was so angry and so exhausted and so guilty (for the color of my skin and the fact that I'm cis - neither of which are things i have any control over whatsoever) 24/7. Being a constant victim and taking everything personally/as a sign of an -ism or -phobia does absolutely nothing to help you and only ever keeps you miserable.

[angellesword]

YOUR EYES TELL | JJK (11)

Summary: You live in a world where people see in black and white. The solution to finally see the colors? It’s simple. You need to meet your soulmate and look at him in the eyes, but what if the person bound to you is already contented with the monochromatic world? What if…Jeongguk, your soulmate, is already in love with someone else?

Alternatively:

“A future without you is a world without color.”

Genre: soulmate au, e2l, slow burn, ANGST, fluff, roommate au

Pairing: Artist!Jungkook x Lawyer!Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

SERIES:  CHAPTER 10 | CHAPTER 12

"You don't have to pay me, Guk."

 Jeongguk shook his head instantly. Yoongi was being absurd. How could he not pay his older friend?

 "I know you have the money, but I can't just take ten thousand dollars from you, hyung." The younger boy pouted his lips.

Yoongi should know by now that Jeongguk hated owing people something.

 Debt of gratitude sucked. It couldn't be paid. Ever. Jeongguk didn't want that. He hated sleeping at night thinking that someone out there could manipulate his feelings—this was how he perceived debt of gratitude: a manipulation. It was because he felt like he was bound please the person who helped him. It was as though he needed to act in accordance to the likes of said person.

 "Fine." Yoongi shrugged his shoulders as if he didn't care about any of this. "Pay me whenever you want,"

 Jeongguk snorted as your voice echoed inside his head. If you were here, you would tell Yoongi that he couldn't just tell his debtor to pay him whenever he wanted. This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

 Civil obligations like this one was only enforceable for ten years. If Jeongguk couldn't pay within the said period, the obligation would then become a natural one—something that would only be paid out of conscience.

 Jeongguk shook his head. Why was he thinking about the stupid law? Why couldn't he stop imagining your pretty smile as you talked about certain provisions? Why was he hesitating to accept his hyung's money?

 And most importantly, why didn't he want to leave you now?

 Your soulmate loaned thousands of dollars from Yoongi just so he could pay the down payment for the apartment that he wanted buy. He promised himself that he would terminate the lease of contract with you after four months. He just couldn't live with you anymore.

 You were supposed to be temporary in his life; however, with the way you were invading his mind even though you weren't around, Jeongguk realized that you were his constant.

 You were the only person who could tolerate his bratty attitude. You were the only person who couldn't get mad at him. You were the only person who made him feel special and needy—Jeon Jeongguk needed your attention so much that he felt like had to run.

 He didn't know when it started, especially because he believed he was not over Red yet.

 Red.

 Was Red the reason why Jeongguk wanted to leave you?

 This was what you thought while clutching the paper on your chest.

 It hurt, but as usual you had to pretend like you were okay.

 "Your parents are back in their hotel," said by Jeongguk the moment he entered your apartment.

 He was back from the thirty-minute drive.

 Your parents were scheduled to fly to Jeju Island tomorrow morning.

 "That's good." You discreetly wiped your tears away, trying so hard to make your tone sound enthusiastic. 

 Your back was facing him since you were afraid to let him see you crying.

 You didn't want to pester Jeongguk regarding his plan to leave. You felt like he wouldn't appreciate the drama you would obviously bring.

  Jeongguk didn't deserve drama—not when it was clear that he was exhausted. He took care of you these past weeks. The only thing you could do was to give him a damn break even if it meant sleepless night as questions like 'why am I not enough?' clouded your mind.

 "Thanks, Jeongguk. Goodnight!" You hastily added, refusing to look at him as you made your way to your room.

 "Wait," he stopped you like the way he did earlier today. This time, however, he stopped you by breaking your heart even more.

 "C-Can I sleep in your room tonight?" Jeongguk swallowed the lump in his throat; his heart was beating so fast.

 You flinched.

 How dare he ask something so insensitive?

 "Why?" Your lips trembled as you finally found the courage to look at him. It was a wrong move, though. You couldn't do it. You couldn't look at him without tears filling your eyes.

 Looking at Jeon Jeongguk made you realize what you could never have: him.

 You were grateful he's averting your gaze. Jeongguk couldn't meet your eyes as well. He was embarrassed and afraid. What if you rejected him? He didn't have any reason to cuddle with you tonight. Jimin was right. Your parents were the solution to help you get back on your feet. It was as though they had some kind of power. You didn't look like you needed your soulmate to make you feel better anymore. 

 You were back to your old self.

 Sadly Jeongguk had no idea that you were just pretending. He didn't know that you were forced to be okay once again. He wasn't even aware that he was one of the reasons why you're acting like everything was fine.

 "I just want to make sure you're alright," his voice was barely audible.

 Jeon Jeongguk was a liar. The truth was you weren't the only one getting used to cuddling with each other. Jeongguk was also craving to embrace you—to listen to your controlled breathing and raging heartbeat.

 "Really?" You suddenly huffed, causing Jeongguk to flick his gaze at you.

 Your soulmate was a good liar, you were not.

 There's a point where pain was too much to handle.

 Jeongguk was staring at you with puzzled expression. His mouth went agape upon seeing the tears streaming down your face.

 "You want to make sure I'm okay so you can finally leave?"

 "What?" He furrowed his brow, clearly not understanding the words you just said. How could he focus on anything when all he could see was your tears?

 Jeongguk wanted to wipe your stupid tears, but you weren't letting him.

 You took three steps backwards when he tried to reach for your face.

 Anger, frustration, and pain. All of these are visible in your eyes. Your thoughts were poisoning your mind—making you imagine what you thought Jeongguk felt.

 "You...called my parents b'cause you're t-tired of me, right?" You slurred.

 You wanted to run to your room since you knew you couldn't stop speaking your thoughts anymore. This wasn't right. You told yourself you weren't going to make this hard for your soulmate, so why couldn't he do the same thing for you?

 Why was he cornering you? Why couldn't he just go away? 

 And why couldn't you stop the venom in your words?

 "You don't want to deal with me anymore. You want to leave but you're guilty. You feel like you are responsible for my pain," this must be it. You kept thinking what triggered his sudden change of behavior. It couldn't be because he finally realized that he liked you too.

 No. That couldn't be right. The only plausible explanation for this was because of the guilt he felt. He only started to act like he cared when you told him that he hurt you too.

 "That's not true..." But Jeongguk was quick to dismiss the negative thoughts inside your head.

 You inhaled deeply. Fresh tears stained your cheeks.

 "What's the truth, then?" You picked up the paper that would prove his intention to leave.

 It was too late to stop now. You were already acting pathetic in front of him. 

 "Why didn't you tell me you bought an apartment?" You continued to ask despite knowing the reason.

 You didn't. You were imagining things. What you think was different from what Jeongguk felt. Admittedly, his eyes widened. He wasn't expecting you to confront him about this. Hell. You weren't even supposed to find out this way.

 Jeongguk was planning to simply sign the contract to terminate your lease agreement with him, leave your apartment in the middle of the night and never come back.

 Guess he couldn't do it now, huh?

 "I-I," he trailed off instantly. How could he explain this to you when he himself didn't know why he wanted to leave?

 Jeongguk wished it was easy to face his emotions. He identified them, but he still didn't know what to do—not even after spending weeks cuddling with you.

 He needed to be alone, he needed to figure out what he felt and what this all meant to him on his own.

 "Is it me, Gukkie?" You sobbed and your soulmate's heart clenched.

 Your back was against the wall, Jeongguk was standing so close to you to the point that he could literally see the tears forming in your eyes.

 It broke him more.

 "Did I cross the line? Am I being too pushy? Annoying? Hard do deal with?"

 Jeongguk could only bite his bottom lip.

 You proceeded to list the things your former maids despised about you.

 "Is Miri too much too handle? Am I picky with the food? Is it hard to wake me up in the morning?"

 Jeongguk avoided your eyes, his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down.

 You noticed that he couldn't speak. Why? Was it difficult to admit the truth?

 "Or am I not buying you enough things?"

 The conflicted boy shook his head vigorously. You did not understand anything.

 "Do you need a new laptop? New clothes? Art materials?" You sounded so desperate. "Tell me, Gukkie. I'll do anything you want."

 "I don't need you to do anything." He said coldly as he moved away from you.

 Pain attacked your chest when you saw indifference dancing in his face.

 "You're still leaving me?" You quivered in fear. You were really pathetic. You said to yourself that you wanted him to go away, but the thought of him actually leaving made your stomach turn upside down.

 "Yes."

 It felt like an arrow shot you in the heart.

 How could he not stutter? Was he really decided to leave you?

 Jeongguk saw how his answer affected you, so he immediately defended himself.

 "I mean it's about right. I told you I'm gonna stay here for a few months. It's over now. I don't want to be your tenant anymore."

 "But why!" You whined. This wasn't fair! How could he decide without consulting you first? This was a reciprocal obligation. You deserved to know his reasons.

 Jeongguk scowled. He wanted to leave now. It was getting unbearable to see you cry—it was as though his chest was going to explode.

 "Do I really need a reason?" His frown deepened. "Can't I just leave because I don't want to be with you anymore?" A lie.

 "You're lying." You refused to believe him even if you knew he was telling the truth. This wasn't you. You weren't like this. It was unlike of you to keep pushing Jeongguk. You teased him all the time, but you didn't mean to make him uncomfortable. His happiness was your top priority.

 You swore you just wanted to know the truth. You deserved a reasonable explanation. He couldn't just say he didn't want to be with you. If he couldn't love you, then he should at least be able to respect you like a normal person.

 "Why would I lie—"

 "Because I'm your soulmate!" You cut him off. Your emotions were overflowing.

 Why couldn't you just let him go?

 "And I love you, Jeongguk." You cried. The table had turned. Just a few breaths ago, he was the one begging to touch you. Right now, however, it was you who was desperately trying to latch on him.

 Jeongguk pushed your hand away. He couldn't have you touching him. It would only make it harder for him to leave.

 "I love you so please don't leave me—"

 "You don't." He cut you off, flinching so hard because of how much he hated your confession. He felt like he was gonna puke.

 "I do, Guk. I love you—"

 "No!" Jeongguk insisted otherwise. He was being stubborn and it was irritating you.

 Who did he think he was to tell you what you felt?

 "You don't love me, okay!? You are wrong in all of this!" He took a step back. He was acting as if your touch was going to burn him.

 "You are delusional. Too caught up with the idea of soulmate that you failed to see the truth!"

 Jeongguk was shaking in frustration. He hated that he had to be mean just to make you understand things—similar to what Red did.

 "I can see the truth! I know the truth!" You carried on.

 He was the one being blinded here, not you.

 "You're just ignoring the signs, Jeongguk. The universe wants us to be together!"

 This wasn't a coincidence. You couldn't be wrong—not when he could see colors because of the love you felt for him.

 But he used this against you.

 "I am not your soulmate." His jaw clenched. "Your eyes can tell."

 You stopped breathing.

 "Your eyes tell." He repeated.

 Your mouth felt dry.

 It felt like you had been stabbed straight in the heart.

 If he was your soulmate, if he ever loved you—or cared, you would see colors by now.

 But no.

 You still see in black and white.

 Your eyes would not lie because Jeon Jeongguk was right....

 Your Eyes Tell.

[booksofkingdomsandcourts]

Lucien Week Day 6 Family Ties

          “Absolutely not.”

          “Lucien—”

          “Absolutely not.” Lucien attempted to storm out of the study, but Helion followed, utterly undeterred. They billowed out into Helion’s solarium where Lucien’s mother was sitting, reading through her correspondences. She looked up as they came in, and Lucien was surprised to see Elain waiting there as well, idly rearranging some of the daybright flowers under one of the large windows. She also turned when she heard them arrive.

           “Mother, tell Helion that throwing a parade for my birthday is absurd,” Lucien admonished, pointing angrily at his father.

           His mother just turned back to her letters, already numb to Lucien and Helion’s constant bickering. “It’s a Day Court tradition, darling. You’re the heir now—you have to take on more responsibility as a public figure.”

           Lucien frowned. “I never saw Eris have to stand in a parade.”

           He saw his mother fight a smile at the thought. “Just because the Autumn Court and the Day Court do things a little differently doesn’t mean your duties here are any less important.”

           He rolled his eyes. Standing on an enormous swan float pulled by pegasi hardly sounded like a real duty or a real tradition, but Elain chimed in. “Oh Lucien, come on! The parade will be so fun—I’ve never been in one before. Helion says there’ll be confetti, and we give the townspeople sweets!”

           Lucien frowned and whirled on his father. “You recruited Elain into this?” Helion shrugged, his face showing practiced innocence.

Elain came over and put her hands on Lucien’s chest, leaning against him. “I thought you were excited for your birthday party?” she pouted. Her big doe eyes beamed up at him, pleading. Dammit.

           “I am excited for my birthday party,” Lucien said. “The party part, where I get to drink with our friends and dance the night away with my very beautiful mate.” He nuzzled her and kissed her nose, and she giggled. “I did not agree to the festivities including a parade from sunup to sundown. We’ll be exhausted by the time we get back!”

           Helion snorted. “Don’t insult me, son. We have more than enough elixirs that’ll put you back on your feet better than before if you start to feel tired. The Day Court are no strangers to multi-day-long parties, and neither, if I recall, are you,” Helion added pointedly. Lucien didn’t have an argument there. “I have three hundred years of birthdays to make up for Lucien, so you better believe every birthday for the next three hundred is going to be just like this. Get used to it. I’ll order you as High Lord if I have to,” he added, but Lucien knew he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t have to. Lucien felt his argument shrivel in his chest, like it always did, because at the end of the day this was Helion’s way of showing he cared, and Lucien was still new to having a father who cared.

           “I’m not wearing a toga,” Lucien muttered.

           “Yes you are,” Helion said cheerfully. “But we can argue about that later. I have a meeting to attend, but the arrangements for the parade are well underway. I put Elain in charge of your float, so direct any further suggestions to her.” He crossed the room and planted a kiss on his love’s cheek, and Lucien’s mother reached up to cup his face and kiss his cheek in return. “I’ll see you all this evening for dinner. Until then!” And he winnowed away.

           Lucien frowned down at Elain, who was still resting happily against his chest. How absolutely unfair of Helion to use Lucien’s mate against him like this. “I have several suggestions for the float. Namely, not having one.”

           Elain rolled her eyes. “That’s a terrible suggestion. We’ll definitely be exhausted if we walk that far.”

           “I can’t believe you’re siding with him on this.”

           She grinned. “Siding with giving my extraordinary mate the most wonderful, fantastical, show-stopping birthday ever because I love him so much and he absolutely deserves it? Sorry, guilty as charged.”

           He sighed. “Don’t you also have a meeting to attend?”

           “I do,” she admitted. “But you do have to wear a toga.” And then, leaning in close to his ear, she whispered. “You should see mine. I picked it special, just for your birthday.”

           Which gave Lucien images of waist-high slits and thin fabric that was going to drive him insane while he had to stand in public with her. His fingers curled on her hips. With a wink, Elain pecked him on the lips and headed out of the room, leaving just him and his mother.

           “Now, I know you don’t want to be in a parade,” Lucien said to her.

           At last his mother sighed and set down her papers. “I promise I did try to talk him out of it,” she admitted. “But he’s so excited, Lucien. He means well.” Her voice had taken on an almost-hidden yet distinct soft undertone as she talked about her mate.

           Lucien sighed. A great irony that his mother, the only person Helion might possibly listen to, was so completely unable to argue with him. Despite her more demure demeanor, Lucien knew she loved Helion’s terrible, gaudy spectacles.

           “A parade is just so…tacky,” Lucien said. “A party would have been more than enough! Any and all funds put into the parade should go toward the ball itself, really.”

           His mother just smiled and stood, coming over to him and cupping his face in her hands. “Well I have a deal for you, my darling. I have a bottle of crivlasse that I was saving for your birthday. If you behave about the parade from now until then, we can split it, just you and me, to give us the mental fortitude we need to get through it. Deal?”

           Lucien brightened immediately. Crivlasse was a spiced Autumn Court liquor, and he hadn’t had it in decades, maybe a century. He’d tried many spirits from all around the world, but crivlasse would always have a special place in his heart. Plus, he knew his mother would have only the finest bottle she could find.

           “Deal,” he agreed, then bent down so she could kiss his forehead.

           There were worse things, he supposed, than a family that cared too much.

@lucienvanserraweek

[anika-ann]

My Timid Hello, My Clumsy Goodbye (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, canon semi-compliant?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Barton!reader    Word count: 8900 (...sorry)

Summary: You’re spending the evening and the night before your wedding with the two most important men of your life.

When the sun rises again, you’ll say your ‘I do’ in a close circle of friends and family. It’s not a goodbye to your old life and it’s not a hello to some enormous change; but you will no longer be a Barton. You will be a Rogers. Why not reminisce a bit? 

Warnings: mention of an abandoned baby, blood and injuries, alcohol, implied possibly rougher sex (nothing graphic) ...mature?, language, so much sappiness... let me know if I missed any

A/N: For what-is-your-backupplan-today 10th anniversary of CA:TFA challenge. Prompts in bold. Thank you for coming up with this wonderful theme and hosting this challenge! Long live CA:TFA!

A/N: Throughout the fic, you’ll find snippets of lyrics from SYML’s "Everything All At Once”. Honestly, the song has a completely different meaning to me, but tearing it out of context works for this story just fine :) When you’re done reading, I recommend the music video. It friggin’ broke me in the worst and best ways. Enjoy!

This is my hello This is my clumsy goodbye I'm putting my glass down I wanna remember tonight

Tony rented an island for you. Clint nearly passed out learning about it and grumbled for days about having a hard time to top that, which, no arguing, was understandable.

It was an incredibly extravagant thing to do, throwing around money that could have been used for a much more honourable cause, but you couldn’t complain. One should not look a gifted horse into mouth – and so you didn’t.

Because Tony Stark renting an island was his premature wedding gift. The fact that your brother bitched about not being able to top that, well, that was his problem. You were certain that deep down, he knew you didn’t need any fancy gifts like that.

Then again, Tony’s gift might have been epically overpriced, but not exactly unthoughtful; along with a private island came a private jet and you being literally flied under radar so no single paparazzi knew where you and America’s golden boy Steve Rogers would seal the deal with your ‘I do.’ So, you were everything but ungrateful to your friend that he succeeded at pulling off such covert operation; and frankly, this place was nothing short of wonderful.

The golden sand was pleasantly warm under your toes as you as you and Clint walked towards the two single beach chairs facing the ocean. Wearing bikini under the baggy t-shirt and a pair of shorts, sunglasses on top of your head, because why would you deprive yourself the gorgeous view of the sun beginning to set down, you followed your brother – not in blood but in every other sense – to the seats, allured by the view, the serenity and the cold sixpack in his hand.

You had already had a traditional bachelorette party with your girls – with the team, with your family. Natasha, Wanda, Pepper, Sharon and Maria. The night had been the perfect blend of what was considered typically feminine, dress up, fanciness and wine and gossip, and a fun night out with shots, dancing, karaoke and pool. That particular night sadly was interrupted shortly by an annoying photographer, but he soon understood it was not very clever to annoy three and a half Avengers or the CEO of Stark Industries for that matter.

Clint however… Clint deserved a special evening with you. With the rest of the team in various state of chilling out, scattered around the luxurious small houses and gorgeous beaches, you two were left the privacy such moment required.

Even if the special moment consisted of simple talking and drinking beer while watching the sun set, a symbolic end of one phase of your life – a phase that was undeniably tied to the famous and yet barely known archer, one of the seven defenders who rushed into the Battle of New York to save the Earth.

One of the seven had been your brother, having previously been controlled by the monster who brought an army from outer space; there was no questioning whether you would join the fight or not, no matter how you preferred the latter part of your field medic job title to the former.

Another of these brave people, as it turned out, was your future husband. A man you had met for the first time that day, but whom you didn’t hesitate to push back down when he got hit by a freaking alien weapon and stood up, wanting to shake it off as if it was nothing. Your medical training told you not to let him; and your stubbornness had been just a touch stronger than his that day.

Apparently, Steve found you always standing your ground to be one of your most endearing qualities.

What a fancy way to express it instead of simply calling you a stubborn pain in his ass.

“You’re lost in your head, Twinkie,” Clint hummed, playfully nudging your ribs with an elbow, bringing you back to the present.

Your nose automatically scrunched at the childhood nickname.

“You gotta stop calling me that, Bobo,” you retorted, a grin spreading on your face as it was his turn to grimace.

You knew it was nothing but an act and that he in fact loved that nickname, because it held so much sentiment, so many memories… as did his endearment for you.

Bobo had been your first word or so Clint always claimed. Obviously, you wouldn’t remember.

You wouldn’t remember your parents, having been only two days old when your mother left you with a damn circus which was in your hometown at the time. You couldn’t recall how you wouldn’t stop crying until you heard a seven-year-old Clint humming a lullaby for you, with silly replacements of lyrics that always made you laugh later on when you could understand them.

How he started calling you Twinkie, because he was a sugar addict and apparently, you were sweet and small and he liked you; so much that he soon appointed himself to be your brother, your bro, your Bobo.

Once you were older and learned that your involuntary nickname for him also meant ‘crazy’ in Spanish, you were sold to that Bobo endearment forever.

Including the night before your wedding.

“You keep zoning out on me, Kid. Getting cold feet?” Clint hummed, casually handing you a can of beer, opening it up for you.

You automatically reached out and took a sip, eyes fixed on the warm colour on the horizon. What a ridiculous question… but kind and caring, with a hidden promise of getting you out of here if you just asked. Your amazing, protective, crazy brother.

You couldn’t but smile widely, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

“You offering to kidnap the bride, Clint? I’d like to see you try. You were always better at trapeze than at being an escape artist.”

Clint scoffed. “Please. These are amateurs. I bet I could pull it off.”  

That drew a laugh from you.

“Are you calling the Avengers amateurs? Better yet, are you calling your wife an amateur?” you teased him, watching his face lose colour when he realized that he did exactly that. You leaned over and patted his thigh. “Don’t worry, Bobo. I won’t tell Nat.”

Clint visibly relaxed, but a shadow of worry twisting his expression.

“Seriously though. Where’s your head at, Kid?”

You just shrugged, smile resting on your lips as you wondered if you ever felt so relaxed. It went along well with the reminiscing of the past and despite the fact that tomorrow was a big day and you should probably be nervous, you weren’t. Not in the slightest, more like the opposite. You were giddy even; it dawned to you that nothing in your life had ever felt so right.

No moment in your life offered you such serenity to your heart, your shoulders free of any weight, body light as air.

“Just taking a trip down the memory lane. Thinking about how lucky I was to be dropped at your circus of all circuses of the world,” you grinned at Clint, your tone remaining completely serious.

Because you were being serious – words couldn’t express how grateful for everything that led to this moment you were. How grateful you were to your brother for watching over you, making sure you would always see the light of a new day, guiding you when you found yourself in a dark.

Clint didn’t react beside his fingers twitching and you knew he was giving you the chance to say what you needed to say.

“About how you taught me pretty much everything I know. About how while I might not be the best person in the world, my brother, who is the best brother ever, made me into a decent person and I owe him everything I am. And how I should probably feel guilty for tying myself to another guy who just swept in and whisked away your little sister.”

Clint stared at you, gulping as his eyes gradually filled with tears. You found yourself in a very cheesy moment, bordering on absurd and it was almost too much to handle – but Clint took a deep breath, cleared his throat and swallowed his tears.

“Well, that bastard did steal my greatest life achievement with way too little effort,” he remarked, voice cracking slightly, the image of him causing your eyes to burn as well even if his words made you both tear up and burst out laughing.

“Dammit, Clint, stop making me laugh and cry at the same time…”

“You started it!” he pointed his index finger at you accusingly, taking a large sip of his beer to drown his sentiment. “But for the record, you should not feel guilty. It’s not like you’re leaving me.”

“I know, but-“

“And if you were, you’d be leaving me in good hands.”

“That’s true, Natasha does have a grip on you and might keep you outta trouble-“

“She’s the one who gets me into trouble half of the time!” Clint cried out in protest and you would have argued if it wasn’t the truth.

But before he had met her, Clint was able to make up his own trouble just fine – he was more than half of a reason why while doing a bit of trapeze yourself, you also grew interested in medical care. Because who else than the little sister should treat her big brother’s wounds when he got too crazy?

“In all seriousness, I’m proud of you, Twinkie,” he said sincerely, one corner of his lips raised in a lopsided smile. “You’re entirely entitled to have your own life and if there’s one guy in this whole damn world I’m willing to trust to have you… well, I guess it’s that big blond dumbass.”

“He can be a bit dumb of ass occasionally, can’t he?” you mused lovingly. “I guess it’s right what they say… we do pick our partners similar to our parents, maybe not only in looks. I didn’t really have a dad, I had you, so…”

Clint sighed, smile widening, before it slipped from his face as he caught up on the not-so-hidden insult.

“Hey!”

You couldn’t but laugh at his shocked expression, accidently spilling a splosh of beer on the sand.

“Just… maybe make sure that even married, you still find time to hang out with your big dumb of ass brother every once in a while?” Clint suggested, sounding surprisingly vulnerable.

Your whole demander softened, a little pang of guilt stinging in your heart as he took your words too seriously – and at his worry.

“Clint… I will always find time for my amazing brother.”

“Well, you’re marrying a pretty amazing guy too, so, you know, I understand the dilemma…”

You snorted when he seemed to genuinely fawn over your future husband, shaking your head before downing the rest of your drink.

“As amazing as Steve might be – and gosh, he is, don’t get me started – you still own a pretty big chunk of my heart.”

“Good. You are a Barton at heart,” Clint hummed, pretending that a few tears didn’t roll down his cheeks, leaning towards you as his expression once again grew serious.

Your chest tightened. Oh no. He was gonna say something to make you cry too – as if you already weren’t at verge of crying, emotions bubbling under the surface.

“Clint-“ you warned him silently, but he spoke up anyway and you gulped, bracing yourself.

“Just… whatever happens tomorrow, you must promise me one thing. That you will stay who you are. Not a perfect housewife, but a good woman.”

That was not what you were prepared for, as touching as the sentiment was.

You burst out laughing, head thrown back, hands clutching at your stomach as it actually hurt with the sudden clench. Tears did spring from your eyes, a perfect blend of touched and infinitely amused at your brother’s words.

“Har, har, that’s what I get from trying to speak from heart…” Clint muttered grumpily and you willed yourself to calm your hitching breaths as you looked at him, the pout of his mouth causing you to cackle again.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just… I am moved, I really am. Thank you. But me? A perfect housewife? And you realize I’m marrying Steve Rogers, right? The epitome of a good man? He would probably threaten to sock me in a jaw if I tried to change into something I’m not just for his sake and actually sock me in my jaw if I turned into a bad woman.”

Clint’s eyebrows jumped, a smirk appearing on his face. “That’s a lot of punching.”  

“My thoughts exactly,” you agreed, reaching for another can, pausing when a thought occurred to you. “Just so we’re clear, I might turn into a bit of a housewife when we have kids, alright? And I want to be a good wife, a good partner to Steve, which is what I’m trying to do even now.”

“I mean, yeah, sure, wouldn’t expect anything less. But… just promise me you’ll stay you and that you’ll keep giving him a run for his money, keep him on his toes a bit,” Clint shrugged with a grin, drawing another chuckle from you.

You saw his point – and you fully intended to keep Steve on his toes. You had a good reason to believe that your future husband enjoyed when you did.

“Oh Clinton… I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He nodded contentedly, picking up another beer and raising it for a toast, his can clinking with yours.

“Cheers to that!”

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you then, a quiet joy wrapped in one moment; the sun ending its quest, the warm breeze in your hair, the waves whispering of a journey you were about to take off to. And all that with a wordless comforting presence of your family, ready to offer you a shelter if a storm rocked your boat and the wind caused you to lose course.

As your mind wandered, you had to laugh at yourself – it was almost as if you were raised by pirates and not circus performers. Perhaps it was the little bit of free cheeky spirit these life journeys had in common what brought the metaphor to your mind. It was a bit like working with the Avengers too, always on a road, adrenaline in your veins even as you mostly stayed on the jet, ready to assist them… yet here you were pondering that maybe, you were yearning for settling down a bit more.

“Cap wouldn’t punch you anyway, right?” Clint remarked, breaking the silence and you blinked yourself back into reality, taking a moment to figure out what he was talking about.

Oh. Right. Steve punching you if you changed yourself significantly for his benefit.

You smiled softly, heart swelling in affection when the answer to that question appeared obvious.

“No, he wouldn’t.”

“Good. He’d try once and I’d put an arrow straight between his eyes,” Clint promised darkly, almost causing you to choke at the sudden violent note. He quickly fixed it with a ramble, lightening the atmosphere yet again. “Minus training of course. He’s allowed to try in order to improve your hand-to-hand. Not that he would ever land a hand on you anyway. Always so soft on you…” he grinned, seemingly alright with that attitude if not slightly calling the big strong supersoldier out.

Oh you could be cheeky too alright if that was what your brother wanted.

“That you know of.”

A confused huh was the only reaction you got – that and a puzzled look.

“He’s always soft on me,” you repeated Clint’s words, turning to him, lips slowly spreading in a wicked smirk. “That you know of.”

Clint’s brows furrowed for a short moment and then his features twisted in a disgusted grimace, face growing a tint crimson.

“Gross!” he complained, more blood rushing to his cheeks. “You know what, I changed my mind. We’re leaving. You’re not marrying him. I’m kidnapping the bride and never returning her, locking her somewhere far far away-“

You snorted at his indignation, your grin undoubtedly battling the one of the Cheshire cat.

“No will do, Bobo. I’m marrying Steve and you can’t stop me.”

This time, Clint didn’t even protest, eyes misted over, nose still scrunched at the mental image, lamenting as the night slowly settled over the paradise-like island.

“Oh god, please help, I can’t unsee it, can’t unhear it--- ew-”

Your laughter was carried away by the breeze as Clint seemed to be unable to look at you.

You swung your beer around, thinking that yes – nothing quite ever felt so right as being here in this moment. Relaxing with your brother, teasing him relentlessly and counting down hours to when you’d say ‘I do’ to the only man who in your eyes ever battled the mantle of the best man in the universe.

In one unending moment You fall within my reach I'm close enough to whisper Hold on to me Hold on to me

You weren’t sure what time it was when you snuck into the beach house, one of few, which had been wisely chosen to be occupied by you and Steve only. You attempted to be quiet and liked to think you succeeded, in your even barely tipsy state, but your effort turned out to be in vain as you found Steve perched against headboard of your bed; reading a book, thin white t-shirt and sleep shorts on display as the soft sheet had been kicked away, scrunched up by his feet.

He was gorgeous – he was gorgeous and yours, a momentary picture perfect of peace, appearing to feel just as light as you did and somehow the dullness of the moment, just him relaxing in bed with a good read as you came home… it was more alluring than one would think.

Steve looked up from the book when you wavered in the doorway, soft lopsided smile spreading on his face.

God, that smile. It might be over two years since you saw it for the first time, but it could still make you weak in your knees.

And somehow, it was now even more charming now than the day you met, more tender than just before you kissed for the first time, sweeter than when he proposed.

“Hey sweetheart,” he greeted you, appreciative gaze roaming your figure and the little too much skin on display – something you regretted when the warm sunrays had bid you goodbye, raising goosebumps. And Steve, the attentive man he was, noticed, his smile earning a teasing edge. “You look a bit cold in there.”

You resisted the urge to stick your tongue out.

“And you look pretty cosy in there. Thought you’d be either asleep or with Bucky.”

Steve shrugged, not letting go of his unfinished chapter just yet, knowing you had a routine to go through before joining him.

“Maybe I missed you. Maybe Bucky is an old man and needs his sleep.”

You chuckled, not rising to the bait – you knew what would follow if you dared to say Steve was just as old. Not that you would complain about Steve trying to convince you about the opposite. You could never.

“Well, I bet he still made you a promise of breaking a bone of mine or two if I ever hurt you. He’ll find energy for that, centenarian or not,” you hummed nonchalantly as you bounced off the doorframe, heading to the bathroom and leaving Steve puzzled by your remark.

“How did you know?” he called out after you, endearingly confused.

“That’s what big brothers do, love!”

Short silence was your answer as you reached for your toothbrush and begun your nighty ritual.

Steve must have figure out what did it mean for him, considering you had a protective brother of your own, because a moment later, his half-amused “noted!” reached your ears.

You chuckled and shook your head, smile spread on your face which you didn’t think could be erased as long as you were in this paradise – free of worry, full of joy. And why wouldn’t you be? You were about to marry one of the smartest, kindest, sassiest and most beautiful men that ever walked the Earth. What was not to love?

You couldn’t but let your mind wander again; if you had only known the day you met, right from that moment, that you’d end up here…. well. It felt a little surreal, knowing that by this time tomorrow, you’d be Steve’s wife; then again, Steve’s life story was surreal enough on its own.

Who would have thought that the stubborn handsome man in the ridiculous suit and you, equally stubborn about you at least checking on the wound upon half-dragging him to a quiet corner in a middle of a battlefield, would grow so close?

It hadn’t been simple. Steve wasn’t the most open guy and while friendly enough, he wasn’t exactly offering his heart on his sleeve, not to strangers. But it hadn’t been too hard, once you were meeting on regular basis. Piece by piece he revealed his true colours and soon after he did… you started falling; hard and fast.

Not necessarily swooning, not on the outside at least; you were a professional, after all. The safety and the well-being of the team was your priority.

It was just too bad – or the best thing, you supposed – that Steve had the same goal as you with one significant difference; as far as he was concerned, the responsibility to look after his team sometimes excluded him.

Oh, was he wrong about that.

And boy, did you let him know you thought so. You still kept proving him wrong to this day and was planning on nurturing his own acknowledgement of his self-worth till your last breath…

“Get your ass in here, Steve!” you called out after him, slowly losing patience as you had tried asking politely the previous two times with no result but being dismissed.

The change of tone and language made his head snap to you from where he was talking to Sam, an offended scowl on his face.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Captain. Don’t be a stubborn jerk and get your ass in here so I can clean your cuts.”

A few months ago, you wouldn’t have been able to talk to him like that; to the great legend, Captain America. At least you certainly wouldn’t have called him his first name and maybe, just maybe, you’d be a little less crass. But now? He might be Captain America still, a hero who deserved all the good things for the sacrifices he made for the world’s safety, but first and foremost, he was just Steve to you.

A colleague, a teammate, a friend. You might not be a part of the team per se, not the way Clint, Natasha or Steve were, but you still belonged. And you were all friends.

Friends irritated each other sometimes and frankly, Steve was often battling with Tony for the mantle of the most infuriating one.

Friends also needed to call each other out on their bullshit by any means necessary when the time was right and now the time was as good as any.

Usually, Steve slipped through your fingers, because he was a supersoldier and the others weren’t, so their injuries took precedence; today, it was only Natasha, Sam and Steve, and the captain was the only one whom you hadn’t checked yet. And you knew there were things to check, the trickle of blood from his eyebrow probably the least of your concerns.

“I wouldn’t argue with her, Steve. She can be pretty stubborn. Clint wouldn’t stop complaining about it,” Natasha supported you from the pilot seat and you fought yourself so you wouldn’t grin at her in victory – it would only irritated Steve further. “She’s almost as bull-headed as you are.”

At that, your smile would have slipped. But honestly, she wasn’t wrong.

“Don’t I know it,” Steve grunted, sparing Sam another glance and when the Falcon himself beckoned to you as well, wordlessly asking Steve to get himself checked up.

The captain sighed irately, but made his way back to the separate and well-lit space of your examination room.

He didn’t try to hide his annoyance – in fact, he squared his shoulders and his steps sounded a bit loud for anyone to believe it was a coincidence. Also, the scowl of exasperation never left his otherwise handsome face.

“This is completely unnecessary. A stupid waste of time,” he hissed as he walked past you and you took a deep calming breath, exchanging an eyeroll with Sam before you disappeared from sight.

“Captain. I respect you and your position, but you say one more time that my job here is unnecessary and stupid, you’ll be looking for a new medic,” you retorted as he stripped the upper part of his uniform angrily, revealing his white-tank-top-clad torso.

Well, at least the fabric used to be white – now a blood stain the size of both of your palms was seeping into the material at Steve’s right side, gushing from what definitely appeared to be a knife wound.

You were gonna murder him one of those days... unless he got killed himself first.

“Seriously?!”

“It’s just a graze-” he started to argue but you cut him off when you tore the fabric away. He winced as some of the dried blood had acted as a glue, having stuck the cloth into the wound, and now was violently ripped off.

“Tr to insinuate again that I’m incompetent at recognizing what’s just a graze, Steve. I dare you. This is a cut wide and deep enough for stitches! Haven’t you had the serum, you could have been bleeding out to death on this table!”

“But I do have it-“

“Or for fuck’s SAKE, stop being a baby and let me treat the bloody gash in your right mesogastric area! The serum accelerates your healing, but it doesn’t make you invincible OR immortal as far as I know--- Jesus fucking Christ-!”

He bristled, taking a deep breath to fight back, but he never got the chance, because you started working and the words died in his throat. Surprisingly, inspecting the damage, poking around a knife wound that might have already begin to seal itself thanks to Erskine’s formula but had not been just a graze hurt and coincidentally, it pulled the rug from under his feet.

To his credit, Steve barely even hissed at the pain.

“Just so you know, I’ll be using the disinfection that stings worse,” you noted, voice dripping venom, because you were genuinely done with Steve’s bullshit.

You lied through your teeth though. You wouldn’t. No matter how infuriating Steve was and how difficult he made your life – causing you to fall for his stupid martyr ass and pine after him among other things – you would never purposely hurt him.

And he must have sensed that, because your remark didn’t earn you a murderous glare or a retort – much to your surprise.

In fact, Steve fell entirely quiet, watching you work without protest, not even objecting when you applied enough local anaesthetic to knock out an elephant and sewed the tissue together so it healed easier. He let you inspect the rest of his torso and bandage his ribs, vigorously shaking his head when you asked him if he was injured anywhere below the waist.

He observed you as you kept an eye on his face for any minute sign of pain he’d be hiding, but all you could see were his irises, startlingly bright blue, pools of honesty and something you had trouble decoding. He seemed… humbled almost. It silenced the anger inside you, the flames of rage – and fear for his well-being, if you were being honest with yourself – turning into a barely smouldering pile of ash.

When you moved on to his head, gently pushing away the strands which obscured the gash on his eyebrow, his eyelids slid shut. You knew how unpleasant facial injuries were, especially around one’s eyes and so you took care to be extra careful as you cleaned the wound and the area surrounding it, most definitely not using the stingy disinfectant.

Not that Steve could get an infection as far as you knew. It was more force of a habit than anything else… and it made you feel better. He had this idiotic mask of an invincible hero he put up sometimes and it drove you insane, because you knew he was only human, a beautiful kind soul, but god, could he be an ass.

“Almost done,” you whispered soothingly when you noticed his jaw tightening as you had to apply a bit more pressure to get a tiny piece of gravel from the cut. You certainly didn’t want that to stay under the newly healing skin.

The moment you retreated with the bloody gauze, Steve’s eyes were back on you, wide and regretful.

“I’m sorry,” he offered quietly, a genuine apology that sounded almost absurd after you two were hissing at each other like damn hellcats. “I didn’t mean to--- I’m sorry for being rude and ungrateful. Thank you for taking care of my injuries.”

One glance into those deep irises and benign hesitant smile and you were done for. How could you stay mad at him? Well, you were still mad at him for the absolute disregard of his own health, but… well. You also understood he felt like he needed to stay strong for the team and put them first and how he actually was in pain.

Pretty much everyone was a pain in the ass when in pain.

You sighed as you searched for few band-aid strips to cover the cut.  

“It’s alright, Steve. I’m used to old men being grumpy and not meaning things they say when they are,” you offered lightly and he hung his head with a chuckle, clearly not taking the old man remark personally – and understanding you were referring to your brother.

His smile was wider when he looked up again. “You shouldn’t have to be used to it.”

You shrugged, carefully slipping two fingers under his chin to angle his face so you could stick the strips over the wound.

“Well, I deserve it sometimes. I don’t mean to… to be overbearing and make you feel like you’re incompetent or something,” you added hesitantly, worrying your teeth over your lower lip as the tone you’d been handling him with caught up with you. Perhaps you could have been nicer.

You smoothened the stripes of band-aid, gulping as you felt Steve’s gaze boring into your face while you continued.

“I know you’re not incompetent. You’re very capable, you’re the best. It’s just… I still--- worry- for all of you. For the full-time Earth’s mightiest heroes. Silly, huh?” you muttered self-depreciatingly and when your eyes met, you were startled by the intensity he watched you with as you laid your fears bare in front of him, leaving you vulnerable. You swiftly looked away and dropped your hands. “Here, almost as good as new.”

A lump grew in your throat as you stripped your gloves, tossing them into the bin. Did you reveal too much? Didn’t it sound silly indeed as you said it out loud? Yes, you were all friendly with each other, but you were supposed to be a professional, focused on your task, not getting distracted by-

-by Steve gently grasping your wrist, causing your heart to skip a startled beat. Definitely not getting weak in the knees when you shot him a surprised glance and he just… brought your hand to his face, lips briefly skimming over your knuckles.

Jesus Christ, Lord have mercy with me.

“Don’t you ever apologize for caring. Don’t stop caring. Silly is the last thing I’d call it.”

Your cheeks felt like set on fire, stomach fluttering as well as your heart. You could feel the ghost of Steve’s lips on your skin, sending your heartrate sky-high, causing your head to spin a bit, your body hot all over.

Did he really—did he just-? And did it mean that… did it mean anything at all?

He let go of your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles, but held your gaze adamantly as he gave you a sad smile and rose to his feet, clearly ready to leave.

You, on the hand, stood there frozen, mind racing.

Why had he done that? Was he really just trying to express gratitude and say sorry for his previous behaviour? Because that was not the way it was supposed to be done, because such tenderness left you entirely bewildered. Was he trying to tell you he was somehow interested in something more than friendship? Was he just high from the anaesthetic, mind you, local one that was not supposed to mess with his brain? Was there any sign of a head injury you missed?

“Thank you, again,” he whispered softly, moving to sidestep you and your hand instinctively shot out, latching onto his forearm… gently.

You gulped, heart stuttering when he glanced at you, puzzled.

One part of you wanted to sink into the floor in embarrassment at your unwitting reaction. Another part of you observed him so closely that you would swear that there was another emotion in his eyes and it was neither apology nor gratitude. You wistfully hoped for longing, the same longing you felt when you were near him, sometimes distant and barely there, other times so acute it hurt.

With your stomach somersaulting in doubt, you willed yourself to raise your free hand slowly, purposely giving him a chance – Lord, please, don’t let him take it – to stop you before your palm settled on his cheek.

You were certain you experienced a small cardiac arrest when Steve not only didn’t avoid the touch, but actually leaned into it, gaze fixed on your face, eyes brighter and softer than you ever remembered seeing. Your gaze flickered to his mouth deliberately, throat turning dry. Too daring? He kissed you knuckles, surely you could reciprocate some affection?

Swallowing against your dry throat, you leaned in before you could change your mind and dropped the briefest peck to his lips, causing his eyelids to flutter shut.

Oh no. Oh no no no no, you totally crossed a line-

You went to retreat your hands from him, but the second you moved, his eyes were snapping open, hand covering yours on his face to keep it there, the other cradling your face and then there was a warm and soft sensation on your own lips as he seized them with his.

Your mind went completely blank save two single thoughts: Steve is kissing me. I really like that.

A small sound escaped you, a blend of surprise and contentment, breaking you from your trance and turning you into an actual participant of the pleasant and entirely unexpected activity.

You drew in a small breath, head spinning from the scent of Steve’s shampoo, disinfectant, sweat and something you couldn’t quite put your finger on and not caring.

He tasted faintly of blood, but otherwise was nothing but sweet as his lips caressed yours, gently tugging at your lower lip and then the upper, the lightest graze of teeth and tease of tongue, finger pressing into your jaw to pull you closer, thumb stroking your cheek.

You whimpered involuntarily when his lips parted from yours, soothing as they returned for a short peck, to drop a brief kiss to the corner of your mouth, to brush your cheek.

Your name was a breathy whisper between the two of you, barely audible as all you could hear was your heartbeat pulsing frantically in your ears, growing aware of your fingers clutching at Steve’s still unzipped armour and nearly sinking in his hair, his hot breath tickling your skin.

You didn’t dare to open your eyes – what if you dreamed it up? What if you looked at him and saw regret – it didn’t feel like he would be regretting it, but… still. Insecurity tugged at your mind as it slowly cleared from the literally breath-taking kiss.

Steve repeated your name with urgency that was unheard of, the single word sounding almost as a plea.

“Please say something.”

Oh.

You blinked your eyes open, surprised to be met with his searching gaze, a minute furrow of his brows. It seemed you weren’t the only one whose mind was being the worst of one’s enemies.

Perhaps your brain was being stupid. Perhaps you both wanted this. Perhaps you felt exactly the same.

As you forced yourself to move, fingers actually slipping into his hair to caress his nape, Steve inhaled shakily, shoulders slumping. The tinniest of smiles tugged at his mouth, tempting red and minutely swollen from the kiss; you had to resist the urge to just taste it again.

Instead, you licked your lips only, savouring the previous sensations, smiling unwittingly.

“That’s… uhm, that’s a really creative new way of driving me crazy.”

Steve’s eyebrows rose along with one corner of his mouth, relief written all over his face.

“Oh? There are other ways in which I’m driving you crazy? Because I couldn’t tell...”

You narrowed your eyes, but you didn’t think he bought you unconvincing act of being irritated with him at such remark.

“Don’t push it, Captain,” you warned him, but your treacherous mouth kept curling up in a smile, your body still buzzing with aftershocks of the kiss.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Uh-huh… s-sure,” you stuttered briefly as his thumb caressed your cheek, bright smiling eyes watching only inches from your face – and yet it felt like he was too far.

“You’re driving me crazy too, you know,” he noted in a breathy voice, causing you to gulp as his gaze flickered to your mouth, clearly implying how you do so… among other ways… like your stubbornness practically matching his.

“Oh really? I do? I couldn’t tell…”

He chuckled, his hand slipping to your nape, soft tickle of his fingers making you squirm.

“I’m gonna kiss you again now if that’s okay,” he whispered, not waiting for your permission and erasing the distance between your lips again.

Still, you whispered your approval to his mouth.

“So okay…”

Long moments later when Sam called out to warn you that you’d be landing soon, you said yes to the grumpy old man’s request to let him treat you dinner.

Oh if you only knew by then how far you’d come…

Lost in thought, goofy smile on your face, you exited the bathroom, ready to snuggle your future husband… and to fully take the opportunity to make love, last night before you officially became his and he became yours.

You had a brief second to register that the bed was empty, your heart skipping a started and disappointed beat. The second you stepped out though, you were literally swept off your feet.

A yelp erupted from your throat as you found yourself with no ground under your feet and high in the air, one of Steve’s arms under your knees, the other under your back. Your hands frantically gripped at the nearest firm point, Steve’s shoulder and arm as you finally realized what the hell happened and was met with a cheeky grin and sparkling blue of his eyes.

That traitor was waiting just by the door to ambush you! Why?

You slapped his very much bare shoulder playfully, hissing a curse, not unaware of the heat radiating of him and seeping into your skin.

“You jerk! You almost gave me a heart attack!” you complained, but he didn’t even have the decency to look apologetic.

“Sorry, sweetheart.”

“No, you’re not.”

Steve grinned wider, shrugging and pulling you closer to his torso, nuzzling your temple and dropping a placatory kiss there.

“Still looking a little cold.”

“No, I look like this because you scared me,” you emphasized, vainly trying to resist the seduction; a mixture of playfulness, sweetness and blatant display of strength as he still held you with ease. It was hard not to be temped. “And you look like you’re awfully warm, parading here without a shirt.”

“Well, I’d call us even since you’re parading around in these absolutely sinful shorts. Makes me hot. I can warm you up,” he mumbled to your skin, lips moving to your ear, causing you to shudder.

How was it so easy for him to make you all hot and bothered? You guessed that at least, as he said, it made you even... it wasn’t difficult to get him riled up either.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Driving you crazy?” Steve offered, sounding awfully delighted at the idea and you only melted into him further at the reminiscence of your first kiss and what followed.

“Always,” you confirmed, deadly serious, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips or the mewl that escaped you when his teeth grazed the shell of your ear, warm breath tickling the sensitive skin of your neck.

“But you love it.”

“Uh-huh…”

“I can live with that with that then,” he said, stalking to the bed determinately. “Now let me drive you so crazy you can barely speak and the only sound you’re making is whimpering my name.”

He all but tossed you on the bed, a yelp of his name in fact erupting from your throat, followed by a fit of giggles that only died when his mouth seized yours, his lips only leaving when heading south to indeed drive you crazy.

And yes; you loved it.

And you loved him too.

In one unending moment I fall within your reach My song a sweet surrender Hold on to me Hold on to me

Before the girls could steal you from him, Steve decided – with your enthusiastic agreement – that you should once again try how it felt to make some morning lovin’ outside marriage. With the ceremony planned for the late afternoon, you had plenty of time; and needless to say, it was bliss. Then again, you believed that marital sex with Steve would be just as delightfully pleasant, thank you very much.

Then, it was a whirlwind – make up, hair, dress, a tear or two spilled when you saw the result in the mirror.

More tears spilled when you glanced out of the window and saw the tastefully and modestly decorated arch, the path created by few scattered rose petals, the male part of your almost family sans Clint in the suits, effectively hiding Steve from you; and you from his just in case, because no one wanted any bad luck.

Your staring was interrupted when your brother went to pick you up to lead you down the aisle.

Upon entering the room and setting his gaze on you, he promptly looked away with a sniffle. It both warmed your heart and made you laugh as did his remark.

“Nope, not giving you to him. In fact, I’m never giving you to anyone. No one will ever be worthy, so I’m keeping you.”

“Hush, Clinton, you’ll still have me,” Natasha winked at him as he took a deep calming breath before carefully eyeing you again.

Clearly, it hadn’t done the job, because few tears still found their way down his cheeks.

“You’re a knock-out, sis,” he sputtered hastily, but no less honestly – clearly moved to tears.

And yet… you snorted at his choice of words and he rolled his eyes, quick to compliment your beauty instead.

You wouldn’t have it any other way though, even appreciating his first remark more for it came from the bottom of his heart rather than from what convention required.

Embracing you carefully in fear he would mess up the work of art his wife and other girls created, he held you in his arms for a moment, as you retuned the hug, clutching at his suit with a little too force. From the corner of your eye, you noticed the bridesmaids clearing the room.

“It’s not like I’m leaving you, Bobo,” you hummed with a smile, throwing his own words from last night at him.

And you weren’t leaving him; your heart swelled with love for your brother, your father figure, your long-life friend.

With sniffle, he let go of you and looked you up and down, proud smile spreading on his lips.

“It’s okay. If you are, I have the best spy in the world for a wife, we’ll drag your ass back home.”

You just slapped his chest playfully and took a deep breath – it was time. Clint grasped your hand firmly then, elbows interlocking, and went to step out just a moment after the bridesmaids left to join the groomsmen.

Well-aware everyone was going to stare and that Steve awaited you at the end of the aisle to marry you, your legs were shaking minutely as the magnitude of the event finally dawned to you.

“Getting second thoughts now?” Clint teased you, eliciting a chuckle from you and shake of your head.

What a question.

“No. Just… please don’t let me fall,” you muttered to him, entirely serious and grateful for your choice of footwear – simple flats hidden by the long flowing skirt of your dress. Better chance of not spraining your ankle on your wedding day.

“Never.”

Clint squeezed your hand under his warm palm and you took a deep breath, stepping into the doorway. Soft melody welcomed you, your very own wedding march Bruce was playing on a mouth organ – something you had previously had no idea he was capable of.  

Looking up from your skirt, you feasted your eyes on the company and the beautiful scenery for only a regretfully short moment, grateful for Sam’s Redwing programmed to record and take photos.

Your gaze instinctively searched the small crowd instead, until it fell under the arch where three men stood.

One of them was Sam himself, having obtained a licence so he could be your wedding registrar; he looked positively dashing. So did Bucky, who patted his best friend dressed in his old-fashioned green captain uniform on the shoulder, his smirk visible even from tens feet away as he stepped back.

Naturally, your gaze lingered on Steve, your feet acting of their own accord and following your brother’s lead.

Gosh, your future husband was the most handsome and absolutely hottest specimen to ever walk the Earth. Hair combed neatly to one side and in his old army uniform, he truly looked like the gentleman from another era he was and yet, he undeniably belonged exactly where he was. His eyes were bright and blue just like the sky, lips slightly parting before curling up into a brilliant smile which somehow still carried the tenderness he treated you with when he felt particularly affectionate.

He must have uttered something under his breath, because Bucky pressed his lips together as if he was holding back laugh. The absolutely best best man, ladies and gentleman.

Your found yourself smiling just as widely, a stray tear tickling the corner of your eye and you had to fight the sudden urge to ditch Clint in order to gather your skirts and run the rest of the way just to jump into Steve’s arms.

But in reality, there was no rush – here, on the damn island Tony rented, there was so much time that one short walk meant nothing in comparison.

“Alright, maybe I’ll give you to him,” Clint whispered, making you bite the inside of your cheek so you would cackle.

Leave it to your brother he would find Steve Rogers so fine he’d be willing to give you out just to have him become a part of your family.

One corner of Steve’s lips twitched in amusement – supersoldier hearing didn’t miss the remark then. Good. Then Bucky heard it too and you had a witness just in case Clint would change his mind. Again.

Finally, with your heart almost in your throat, you reached the end of the aisle, Clint gently putting your hand into Steve’s… without letting go.

“You be nice to her, Cap. And I mean really nice, you hear? Or else-“

“Hush,” you hissed good-naturedly in your brother’s direction, winking at him before you returned your gaze to Steve. “Hey there, handsome.”

Steve chuckled under his breath when Clint stepped back. He returned the greeting with soft ‘hey there, beautiful’ and then proceeded to lift your joined hands, brushing your knuckles with his lips – just like the day you shared your first kiss.

Well now you truly found yourself on the verge of crying. And Lord, you wanted to kiss him so much-

Sam cleared his throat loudly, casting you both a meaningful look as if he could read your mind and wanted to remind you that there were a few things to go through before that could happen.

Ugh. Formalities. Just let me kiss him…

Steve licked his lips – the audacity! – and turned, lightly tugging at your hand so you both faced your friend who held a little leather book open, beckoning towards the guests: Bucky and Natasha, the best man and the best woman, Clint, Bruce, Tony, Vision, Wanda, Sharon, Pepper. Just your closest friends and family.

Sam cleared his throat again.

“Alright. We all know why we gathered here today. To get these two amazing people married, so they could officially become a special team within our team.”

You grinned, peripherally noticing Steve eyeing you as well. Team indeed.

“This is the part where I would ask all of you, bride and groom included, to speak up now if you’re aware of anything standing in the way of this wedlock or to remain silent forever. But frankly, if you have something to say, right now is the perfect time to keep it to yourself. Just let these lovebirds get married…”

Muffled laughter and giggles erupted from your group. Honestly, you wouldn’t say it better. You noticed Clint shifting and Natasha forcefully holding his hand down; you bit down on your lip so you wouldn’t laugh and sent her a grateful smile instead. The best maid of honour ever.

“Good, that’s what I wanted to hear, folks. We have the rings, correct? Great. Just so you know, these two saps asked me to read one vow which they are making to each other, because they didn’t trust themselves to say theirs individually without bursting into tears. So now it’s left to me to cry instead. Thanks for that.”

Your cheeks were honestly starting to hurt from smiling so wide, but tears prickled in your eyes acutely just at the thought of the vow you agreed on. You spent countless hours thinking about what you wanted to say and realized that your vow would be too long and that you would in fact start crying and that you could never name all the things you loved Steve for. It had been a relief to find out that Steve shared the sentiment and the deal was made.

Natasha and Bucky dutifully laid the rings on the pillow Wanda’s powers held levitating by your and Steve’s side – not without Bucky finding a split second to compliment your appearance and earning a brief smirk from Steve.

“I know,” Steve uttered and you wondered if there was a dare going around as to who would make you burst out laughing first.

This was your wedding dammit. You could be at least a bit a lady and remain collected.

Hardly.

“With this ring,” Sam started, breathing in and out and you knew you already lost, first tear rolling down your cheek as you gazed into Steve’s inviting eyes, “I give myself to you without giving up myself. With this ring, I surrender to you for I have faith you understand the value of wielding such power and for I deem you worthy of it. With this ring, I promise to love you, to respect you and to support you to be your best self as I trust you to do the same for me, for us.”

You blinked away the waterfalls, reaching almost blindly for Steve’s ring and with fingers trembling – with giddiness, not nerves – you somehow succeeded at slipping it on his left ring finger.

“I do,” you whispered, your voice cracking even in such simple sentence and the watery smile Steve graced you with made your ribcage feel too small for your swelling heart.

Fingers equally clumsy, he slipped a ring on you as well, shoulders squaring as if in pride.

“I do,” he said firmly, the damp path down his left cheek only adding severity to his vow.

“You may-- uhm, okay, you may kiss the bride, your wife--- I mean, Mrs. Rogers. You may kiss the groom, your husband…” Sam mumbled under his breath until he didn’t, because Steve pulled you in for a kiss the same moment Sam said the first ‘may’ and incidentally, the same moment you practically threw yourself at Steve.

Laughter and whistles erupted from the group of your friends as Steve bend you back dramatically, the determined press of his lips to yours not at all disrupted by the change of angle, claiming your mouth in ways that made you shudder and stirred flames in your belly.

Years and years later, you’d recall that kiss and realized an amazing thing; how it felt just like your first kiss, your last one, and every single one in between.

With you still practically horizontal, Steve’s crinkling eyes met yours, delighted smile on his kiss-swollen lips.

“I love you, Mrs. Rogers,” he hummed, adding a cheeky grin. “You’re stuck with me now.”

“The horror,” you muttered back teasingly, pulling at his nape, demanding another kiss, your own declaration whispered to his mouth. “I love you too, Mr. Rogers.”

And you did. Gosh, you did.

S.R. masterlist

(divider by firefly-graphics)

Well. This turned out SO DIFFERENTLY than I anticipated and SO MUCH LONGER. If you feel like leaving feedback, I’ll be grateful. If not, well. *shurgs*

Excuse me while I go and continue dreaming of ONE fictional man. Ugh. Anyway.

Thank you for reading!

And once again, thanks to WIYBUPT for hosting and for just being awesome in general :)

[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.

[eyoricka]

Secret dating - Pete Davidson x singer!reader

First thing, I am sorry for my rather long absence I was moving to another country and way to stress. But now I have to spend ten days in quarantine so I will try to catch up and write all the asks I received in the meantime. So sorry for the delay and I hope the waiting will worth it!!

Also this is the first part of a small series about Pete x singer!reader because I had few asks on this theme! Hope you will enjoy

 Words: 1600+

Warning: none I guess

You had been dating Pete for few months. You decided to keep it low profile. It wasn’t really a secret; your friends and families were aware that you were together but you didn’t want the whole world to know. You had seen Pete’s debacle with his exes, and he witnessed yours. You both agreed to not to make it public this soon since you wanted to avoid paps, gossips articles, harassment online and to hear everybody’s opinion. You were surprised that no one caught the two of you or speculated on your relationship. Maybe the both of you being friends for years, evolving within the same circle of people helped you. When people saw the two of you strolling, getting ice cream together, no magazines titled about how cute this date was but rather on how good it was for you to have such good friends in your life.

These past couple of weeks, it had been hard to spend some quality time with Pete. You had to flew to LA to assist to the Grammys and you missed your boyfriend so much through out the ceremony. You wished that you could have hold his hands during the stressful waiting, kissed him when you heard your name, thanked him when you gave your acceptance speech or feel his hand drawing absurd figure in your back to relax you while you were waiting to perform. Then after going back to New York, you hadn’t had that much time. Your publicist had packed you with interviews and gigs during late night shows. It was tiring but worth it. Your career was on a clear path to success. You were finally considered as not another pop star but one of the biggest artists out there. Pete was so supportive of you. You lived for his lovely text messages to give you strength before each performance or his compliments on how beautiful you looked on TV, how smart your answers were, how funny you were during an interview game.

You had eventually managed to find an afternoon just for you and Pete. You enjoyed a home-cooked meal at his place and could help but melt every time he was laughing while recounting his week. You simply spend the rest of the afternoon watching cartoons. It was your way to decompress together. Pete would always prepare some snacks while you set everything up. Then you would lose at least ten minutes to choose which cartoons or movies to watch. You usually had long debate on whether SpongeBob was better than Scooby-doo. Pete would always take you in his arms while you were watching, peppering your neck with kisses and smelling your hair. He liked the smell of your shampoo arguing that it reminded him of happiness. That was so cliché and yet so adorable, you couldn’t make fun of this cheesiness.

You were slowly falling asleep engulfed by Pete’s warmth, this was cozy, it felt like home. Suddenly, you heard your phone buzzed and sighed. It was your agent, asking you where you were to pick you up to go an interview. You texted her your address while you looked for something to put on for the TV. You liked very much the clothes you had on but you doubted that their shades would be nice on camera. As you were researching the perfect outfit in underwear, trying on several combo, you congratulated yourself for letting some clothes at your boyfriend’s place. You were hesitating between two tops and asked Pete’s opinion. After a quick joke on how good you looked in underwear and that you probably should go like this, he made up his mind for the baby blue top.

You rushed outside to be picked by your team but not before sharing a sweet but passionate kiss with Pete and agreeing to spend the night at your place after the show. Your team smiled at you knowingly as you entered the car but they didn’t make any comment on your relationship. You discussed the show, the possible questions and what the best answers would be… The ride was pretty quiet after that and you soon arrived at the building where the show was taped. You were warmly welcomed by the host. You had already done some interviews with him, he was easy to talk to, always made you comfortable and was rather fun to be around. He lead you to the make-up artist trailer who didn’t fail to notice your tired look but promised you that it was nothing than a bit of foundation and powder could hide. Indeed, after only 15 minutes there you were glowing, looking fresh, like a fairytale princess leaving her bed.

As you were waiting to be called on stage, you received a message from Pete telling you that he was excited to see you on the show, that no matter what you were the best and that he was eager to see you tonight to finish the nap you had started together. You quickly replied before entering the stage. The interview went rather smoothly. You had begun with questions about your last album and upcoming project teasing a possible collab with Taylor Swift. The crowd went wild at this info and you knew that you would certainly end up in top tweets. After a commercial, you played a game with the host where you had to sing a random song imitating another artist. Clearly, it was not your forte, but you were funny enough to make it a good moment to watch. Then, you proceeded to answers some more interrogations from the public that could be found on social media. Those questions were a lot more personal and globally more focused on your art, compositions, writing skills, inspiration. You were passionate, your eyes were big with enthusiasm and you did a lot of gesture with your hand with made the host smile.

You were so happy that when a question about your dating life came up, you didn’t think twice before saying “Well I am the luckiest person, I have my dream career and dating Pete Davidson is just the cherry on the top, you know. He is just so perfect for me, like me understand and support each other, it just so great when you can share all those moments with someone you love and trust.” As you finished your rant, you noticed how the host was staggered. You finally realized what you had revealed and blushed furiously. “Did you just announce publicly that you are dating SNL cast member Pete Davidson?”. It was like words were dying in your throat and you envisioned Pete’s reaction at this. Surely it was not how you had planned to go public. You nodded shyly and the show stopped there. The host thanks the audience who was visibly thrilled, and you made your way backstage. You compulsively checked your phone every five seconds waiting for a text from your now very public boyfriend. But none came and it was worse. You felt so bad, you never wanted to put him in such a position, you were not sure that he was ready to go public, face the world’s reaction but here you were because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.

Your team drove you back to your place assuring you that it was okay, he couldn’t be mad at you for this but actually he legitimately could. They insist that you should check your social media, people were very supportive of you, saying that you were so cute together, goals… however you didn’t think that it was a good idea right now, you head spinning with the prospect to face Pete.

You silently entered your house waiting for Pete to arrive, a huge lump in your stomach. You felt so guilty, obviously you had to ruin everything, didn’t you. You were in your kitchen drinking a hot cocoa to calm your nerve when you heard Pete unlocked your front door with his spare keys. You didn’t dare to approach him and let him come in the room, your hands shaking so bad that you had spilled some hot beverage on it. You didn’t really feel the burning sensation, you were too scared of what he would say. To make it even more torturing he remained silent as he glanced at you. he eventually approached you and put away your cup as he took your injured hand in his. He put it under cold water and you let him do it, not understanding what was happening. “Do you think that I hate you or that I am angry at you for making it public without talking about it first?” he stated more than questioned as he stood behind you with his hand on yours. “Yes” you sighed looking down. He made you turned to face him and since you were still not looking at him, he put gently his hand on your face and lift it up. His face was so calm and soft, not what you were expecting at all. “I don’t mind, I mean sure it would have been better to discuss it and find a way together to announce it but you didn’t did on purpose. You were just so excited and you didn’t really think of it so I can’t blame you. I certainly would have done the same. Also, how I can be mad at someone who is so cute and so adorable when talking about me. You know what you say about us, it means a lot to me, a lot more than you can imagine. I love you, okay, and I don’t care if the whole world knows as long as you know it.” He smiled down at you and brushed away some tears that you hadn’t realize where rolling down your face. He cusped your cheeks and kissed your forehead as you buried yourself in his shirt.

[kirishwima]

Hello lovely! Hope you're doing well. 💖 If you're taking Mysme requests still, I was wondering if you could do headcannons for the RFA+V (and Saeran if you want) with a female MC who has depression and struggles with being overweight and the insecurity that that brings, but instinctively hides her stress and prioritizes the others over herself?

anon are you Me. Are You. this is too specific and i relate 100%, i'm sorry you feel this way, know i love & appreciate you <33

I'll use she/her pronouns for MC since you specified them!

RFA + Saeran with an insecure, depressed, overweight MC:

Yoosung:

* Listen, I love him, but boy would take a while to realise that MC's insecure, especially if she keeps hiding her own anxiety to help him when he's upset

* He will tell her he loves her CONSTANTLY, and when you don't love yourself, hearing that can...hurt sometimes, makes you doubt yourself. If she doesn't voice this concern, he won't take much note of it-he'll understand when she's upset, of course, and do his best to help, but he's not the best at reading between the lines, so she'll need to be a little bit more upfront about it

* The one scenario I can picture, is him coming home one day, perhaps finding MC getting dressed or after a shower-standing in front of a mirror, gaze averted, shoulders tense.

* He's happy to see her, but notices her stiff smile, how she flinches away when he goes to hug her, and when he asks what's wrong, if she says 'nothing' he'll insist until she talks to him, tells him her insecurities, how she doesn't get what he sees in her, how she'll be happy when they're together but then feel so empty the next moment.

* He'll feel SO guilty for not recognising the signs, but he won't beat himself up over it-what's most important is helping her, not wallowing in self-pity.

* He'll sit with MC for as long as it takes that day, will hold her close and list all the things he loves about her even if she doesn't believe a single one of them. He can't relate to the insecurities about her body, though he'll try to convince her he loves her as is-because it's the truth! He can however, relate to what it's like to feel empty, to force yourself through the motions of daily life while shrivelling up inside.

* So he vows to help, in anyway possible.

Zen:

* Listen, I refuse to believe that behind all that narcissism there aren't insecurities stemming from all the shit he's been through in his childhood. Boy's developed narcissism to cope with what he thought of himself as a kid, and I stand by that.

* So he's more observant than you might think-when he sees MC checking herself in the mirror, poking at her stomach, how she'll sigh and put a big hoodie over her t-shirt, how she shies away from physical affection, how seeing him shirtless oftentimes makes her feel bad about herself, that he 'has to be seen with her'-he notices it all, and hates it, hates that her brain made her think she's anything less than gorgeous.

* He tried asking her about it but she insists she's fine and she's no more or less insecure than the average person-ever the one to try and keep his worry at bay.

* So instead he'll let her know he loves her every single day, will tell her he loves her body, will post online about how proud he is to be with her-for all the world to know, so no one will ever dare question her worth.

* It's an uphill battle, and it's not one Zen can win for her, but he'll do his best to help, so she can realise her own self-worth.

Jaehee:

* Baehee would be one of the most observant people in the RFA-though she doesn't share the same insecurities, she can understand them, and will often prod MC, asking her to talk about anything that might be bothering her.

* If MC says 'it's nothing, please don't worry', she won't push much; she doesn't want her to completely clam up. But she'll always be gentle, holding MC's hands as she says she'll always be here if MC wants to talk, that she helped her so much she wants to be MC's support too.

* I know how weird it feels lending clothes to others when you're chubby-so I feel like sharing clothes with Jaehee would be...an ordeal. Being unable to wear Jaehee's skinny jeans, whilst she can fit into MC's, would sting, and it'd only add onto MC's guilt-she doesn't want to feel this way about her girlfriend! She loves her, appreciates her, doesn't ever want her to know about these thoughts.

* But again, Jaehee knows. She understands it, so-she takes MC shopping, and together they buy matching pairs of pyjamas and t-shirts, things that, whilst they don't need to share, can wear and be reminded of one another.

* "I love you as you are-you accepted me for who I am, so let me do the same for you" she'll say, will hug MC and hold her close until she lets her feelings out, talks about her worries.

* Jaehee would be eager to help search for a good psychologist, to get MC professional help-she knows what she can do as MC's girlfriend isn't much, so she wants MC to get the best help she can.

*And of course, she'll be there for MC every step of the way

Jumin:

* oof...listen. He loves MC SO much, will buy her the moon if she asks, but this man..he's only recently discovered his own emotions. He's emotionally dense, and when MC says she's fine, he tends to take it at face value. Why would MC lie to him, after all? She trusts him enough to let him know if something's bothering her, doesn't she?

* Not to say he doesn't realise there's something wrong-he's a businessman, reading his clients is a part of his job description, emotions included. So when MC's smile stretches thin, when she's overwhelmed but swallows it down in favour of acting like everything's okay, he knows-maybe not to the extent that others might've, but he can tell something's wrong, and he'll honestly be upset MC doesn't talk to him about it.

* So he'll just...sit down and talk to her about it. Ask her to be upfront with him, tell her he wants her to be happy, that he wants to be there for her and help her any way he can, but can't do that if she doesn't talk with him and let him know what's wrong.

* If MC breaks down-if she cries, hides her face in her hands, he'll be shell-shocked. He's so used to her smiling, even at the face of adversity, that seeing her like this...he has no idea what to do at first, not one used to emotional outbursts.

* Insticts soon kick in though, and he gathers her in his arms, rubs his hands on her back, letting her cry until she calms down, no matter how long that takes.

* When she tells him about her depression, her insecurities, he'll nod, quietly listening to her worries, formulating a plan of attack.

* He quite bluntly doesn't understand why she's insceure. She's beautiful?? He loves her exactly as she is?? If she wants to change something about her appearance she's more than welcome to, but to want to do that because she feels she must is...absurd. He simply won't allow it.

* I know it's a cliche in a lot of these headcanons, that he'd buy perfectly tailored clothes for MC, that he'd purchase the finest, most flattering clothes for her to feel as beautiful as she is in his eyes, but it's true-he would, hell, he'd probably read up on fashion himself so he'd be able to help her pick out outfits. He'd do anything for MC, and that's NOT an exaggeration.

* Plus he'd insist on her going to therapy-I headcanon that after realising his own emotions he'd probably start attending therapy sessions himself, to try and get a better read on his emotions, so he'll be a pretty strong advocate for therapy, and he wants the very best for MC.

Seven:

* HAHAHAHAHAH.

* This man...not only can he absoloutely relate, it's honestly a big reason why their relationship is rocky, to say the least.

* Having two depressed, self-sarificing people who'd rather bury their emotions in the depths of their gut rather than admit emotional vulnerability in a relationship? Yeah, not a good idea.

* He'll be using humour to cope with his depression, trying to get MC to open up instead, whilst MC's just pretending she's Never Had a Negative Thought in her life, trying to get Seven to open up instead. You see the issue, yeah?

* Honestly it'll take a lot of walking on eggshells and dancing around the issue until either one of them breaks down, admitting defeat, or they share an honest, adult conversation about their emotions and about how they both need help-which, realistically speaking, I find quite unlikely to happen.

* Not to say the relationship won't work out-God, Seven wants it to work out so, so much. He'll tell MC he loves her constantly, he'll make it so in order to enter the apartment, she'll need to say one thing she loves about herself each day at the security door before it can be unlocked, he'll do everything in his power to help her with her body issues because he loves her, worships her as is.

* The ideal solution honestly would be someone else from the RFA-Jaehee probably, lol, coming to boink them both over the head and drag them to therapy, both individual and couple's sessions, so they can finally start expressing their emotions to one another in a way that ISN'T memes or self-deprecating humour.

* It'll take a while but-they'll make it work. They love one another too much not to.

V/Jihyun:

* This man. This sweet, sweet man.

* He knows what it's like to be insecure, to feel uncomfortable in your own skin, knows what depression is like, how it takes a hold of you and leaves you a shell of who you once were, or worse-who you could've been.

* He's so attuned to his own emotions, he's learnt to recognise the signs in himself-and ergo can tell when someone else is also suffering, although to what extent, it's not always easy to tell.

* He hates MC feeling this way about herself. He loves her so much, she's the one that pulled him out of his own self-depracating, self-sacrifising depressed state, has helped him seek help and become a better man-he wants to be able to support her too, wants to do everything in his power to help.

* But helping someone who won't even admit there's something wrong...isn't easy. He's so gentle and patient though, and slowly helps tear MC's walls down. He'll never prod too much, will simply..be there for her. Will hug her, run his fingers down her sides. If she squirms away, afraid of him feeling her love handles, he'll simply smile and say he loves her, finds every single thing about her beautiful-he'll purposely trail his hands to said love handles, if she's comfortable with it, looking her straight in the eye when he says "Every part of you, I'm in love with. Please don't take my words lightly."

* If she's up for it, he'd love to photograph her-but it's not easy, when you're so awkward in your own skin, to accept to be viewed through a camera lens. So instead he'll draw her, his sketchbook filled with doodles of her face when she's happy, when she's concentrating, her body as she sleeps, head smooshed into the pillow.

* He'll never push her, letting her take things at her own pace-but he'll be there to aid in every single step

Saeran:

* I know I said it for Seven and V to but...out of everyone, I feel like he'd understand MC's predicament the most. Insecure about his frail body, dealing with the trauma Mint Eye has left him with, trying to combat his demons and anxieties whilst trying to return to being a member of society-he's going through...a lot, to say the least.

* So it's honestly understandable how MC will swallow down her own issues, do her best to support Saeran instead. Will she break in the process? Perhaps. She doesn't care. Not if she can help him in the process.

* Saeran might not notice it initially, too focused on his own issues which-honestly, understandable. It's not everyday you leave a cult after all. But the more he talks with MC, the more he realises she's hiding so much from him, slowly notices how often she forces a smile on her face, how she'll nervously cover her mid-riff with her arms whilst sitting down, how she shies away from attention-

*He's almost never the one to initiate physical affection with her, and she doesn't initiate it much either-but when he does, when he leans in to kiss her and feels her tense he panics, pulls away because-is she reacting this way because she doesn't want him?

* When she explains it's not that, that she loves him and wants to be with him, he'll press the issue, ask her why she'll shy away from him then-not in a mean way, he'll just honestly be so worried, wondering what's wrong and how he could help.

* And when/if MC does tell him about her issues...there's not honestly much he could do. He'll tell her he loves her, that she's beautiful, that her body's a vessel to carry her soul around, and that soul is so wonderful it radiates joy to everyone around her, but he knows how hard it is to believe such words when in this mindset.

* So instead, he suggests they go to therapy together. He knows it's not the easiest thing in the world-but he wants her to get the help she deserves. He'll hold her hand on the way to her first session, will wait outside for her, smiling up at her when she's done.

* Things will slowly get better for the both of them.

-masterpost-

[blitzturtles]

Title: It Goes Like This (It Starts Like This Universe)

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Vento Aureo

Pairing(s): BruAbba

Summary: Abbacchio isn’t a morning person. Never has been. He prefers the comfort that comes with a blanket of darkness to the bright hours of the early morning. There’s less eyes. Less people. Less performance. Unfortunately, he’s gone and fallen in love with a man that believes that the day begins before the sun has even broken the horizon.

Notes: This is for the first place to my 300 Follower Giveaway! @bucciaratisfishmarket requested BruAbba set in my It Starts Like This verse with some disabled slice of life/morning routine. Ngl, I was super excited to get to do something in this verse, so thank you!

Thank you to everyone that followed and participated, and a special thanks to @bucciaratisfishmarket! I hope you like your fic!

Additional Notes: Also, the pill organizer described in the fic can be found on Etsy: https://www.etsy.com/listing/1022344896/boneyard-real-bones-weekly-7-day-pill It's cool and beautiful, and I probably don't do it justice. Definitely go check it out!

-

Abbacchio isn’t a morning person. Never has been. He prefers the comfort that comes with a blanket of darkness to the bright hours of the early morning. There’s less eyes. Less people. Less performance. Unfortunately, he’s gone and fallen in love with a man that believes that the day begins before the sun has even broken the horizon. It’s leftover from Bruno’s days helping his father with the boat, and, later, his days running Polpo’s errands. Chasing people down for money and answers. What comfort Abbacchio can find in the night, Bruno can find just fine in the light hours of the morning.

Fortunately for both of them, Abbacchio is more than capable of running on a schedule, of waking up at the same time everyday and forcing his mind and body into cooperation. He did it for years for school and then the academy. It’s nothing he isn’t used to, and he’s happiest when Bruno is happy, no matter what that entails, which is how he finds himself waking up to Bruno’s second alarm before the man can snooze it again.

The thing about Bruno’s new medication—a pill large in size and equally ridiculous in the length of its name—is that it makes it damn near impossible for him to get going in the morning the way he used to. Before, Bruno practically operated on his own internal clock. Waking up before his alarm had even gone off and fetching them both their first cup of caffeine; it used to be the thing that made greeting the day a bit more tolerable.

Now, Bruno snoozes. Alarm after alarm, until they run out. He’s tried music, absurd volumes, and even relocating the damned clock halfway across the room. None of it helps, so Leone compensates. He wakes up around the second or third alarm, turns the rest off, and kisses Bruno’s cheek before he rolls out of bed.

Sometimes there’s a quiet plea, “five more minutes”, that endears Abbacchio so completely that his mood settles, not nearly as bitchy as he could be upon reaching the kitchen and finding someone else already there.

“Why are you awake?” Okay, so. Still bitchy. But he doesn’t sneer his words quite as bad.

Narancia, for his part, looks completely startled by the prospect of someone else existing at such an ungodly hour, but he manages to avoid outright screaming. That’s a plus. Abbacchio isn’t sure his head could take it this early. “What are you doing?”

“I asked first.”

Narancia narrows his eyes, but he caves within seconds. “I got a test in like two hours, and Fugo’s gonna kill me if I don’t pass.”

Abbacchio snorts at the idea, “Yeah, he will.”

“Not helping!”

“Never said I planned to,” Abbacchio points out as he starts rummaging through the cabinets for two mugs. He sets them on the counter and gets to work brewing their coffee. Decaf these days, for Bruno’s sake. Abbacchio could keep drinking his usual, but he takes solace in the bitter taste of his coffee instead. It seems kinder that way, especially when he knows how much Bruno’s been struggling without caffeine.

“Why are you awake?”

“I’m always awake this early,” next is breakfast, which is easier said than done. It’s rare that Abbacchio wakes up with a stomach for anything. Too many years of skipping breakfast in favor of a bottle did a number on him, but it’s not optional anymore. Neither one of them will be able to keep their meds down without something to eat, so he picks through the refrigerator until he comes up with fruit and yogurt as his best solution.

“Really?” Narancia asks, wrinkling his nose, “Why?”

“Ask Bruno,” Abbacchio says, dismissive. He’s really not in the mood to talk to people that aren’t currently snoozing in his bed.

“You’re not much fun in the morning.”

“Am I ever?”

“Touché.”

Abbacchio snorts. He should be offended, but he knows the kid is being a smartass. It’s his own fault for setting himself up. “Why don’t you go bother Fugo? I’m sure he’ll be happy to help you study.”

“Have you ever tried waking Fugo up?”

“No, can’t say that I have.” That’s always been Bruno’s job, assuming that Fugo hadn’t already woken up on his own.

“It’s too early to get stabbed.”

“Touché.”

They go back and forth for a while longer. At least until Abbacchio’s patience runs out, and he’s finished putting breakfast together. He dismisses himself with little warning and doesn’t feel the least bit guilty when the kid looks a little startled by the abruptness of his departure. He has things to get done for the day, and those things don’t necessarily include being part of Narancia’s obvious effort to procrastinate.

“Bruno,” Abbacchio calls when he steps back into their room after Moody opens the door for him. “Your five minutes are up.”

“Five more?” Bruno asks, voice muffled. His head is barely visible with only a tuft of hair sticking out from a pile of blankets. It’s cute, and Abbacchio is a complete sucker for giving in.

“Last one, tesoro,” Abbacchio warns as he sets Bruno’s cup and food down on the bedside table.

There’s a muffled reply that might be a quiet thanks, though it’s almost impossible to tell with the way Bruno pulls the blankets even tighter around himself.

Abbacchio rummages through the drawer of his nightstand until he finds what he’s looking for before taking up a spot at the end of the bed with his food and drink in hand. He sips at the decaf slowly, wrinkling his nose at the first taste. God, he misses caffeine. As expected, he doesn’t feel much better about his first bite of homemade parfait (and he can almost hear Polnareff’s protest at his calling it that). The rest goes down about the same, but the motion is mechanical at that point. One bite after the other with the occasional sip from his mug to wash it all down until everything is gone.

Abbacchio sets the dishes on the floor and reaches for the pill organizer sitting on the bed beside him. He absently runs his fingers over the lid, where small bones have been set in resin. He can still remember the first time he saw it. The black shine had caught his eye first, but, on closer examination, the thing that had convinced him to buy the organizer had been the mouse bones, delicately placed and striking against the background.

What he hadn’t realized then is that the little organizer would a significant adjustment to his daily routine. Having a week’s worth of medication in one place, already sectioned in dosed amounts, had significantly increased his medication compliance. Oddly enough, it’s had a rather hefty impact on his overall mental health. Now, when anti-inflammatories and bronchodilators and steroids are part of his daily regiment as much as his SSRI’s, it’s even more vital for him to consistently get his meds in. Otherwise, the consequences tend to be pneumonia and an unwanted hospital trip with a round of antibiotics and even stronger steroids. And that’s to say nothing of what happens when he’s running low on serotonin.

He’s caught up in his own thoughts when Bruno hooks his chin over his shoulder and peers down at the little organizer.

“I never did ask you if those are real,” Bruno muses quietly.

“I thought you were taking five more.”

“‘m awake,” Bruno answers, clearly half-asleep.

Abbacchio huffs a soft, amused laugh. He turns his head to press a kiss to the side of Bruno’s nose. “Sure you are, amore.”

“I am.”

“M’hm,” Abbacchio smiles, reflecting the expression on Bruno’s face, though his is notably less sleep-depressed. Bruno looks a lot like a light gust of wind might knock him out, and it’s so damn endearing that Abbacchio can barely handle it. Instead, he looks back down at the pill organizer and answers Bruno’s earlier question, “They are. Real, I mean.”

“They’re lovely,” Bruno says, and he means it. Odd as some might find Abbacchio’s taste, Bruno has always found beauty in it. “Perhaps I should get one.”

“Might be a good idea.” It would be easier to see if Bruno ever missed a dose, and it would certainly be easier to avoid that disaster all together. “There are other options. You could go with something—oceanic, maybe?”

Bruno hums at the thought. “I think I’d like that.”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” by which Abbacchio means that he’ll actively go looking for one. Anything to make Bruno’s life a touch easier.

“Oh, you brought breakfast,” Bruno says, moving away from Abbacchio to peer curiously at the morning’s offerings. “You’re entirely too kind.”

Abbacchio huffs a laugh at that, “For all that you’ve done for us? Hardly.” He pops open the side hatch of his organizer and dumps the day’s pills into his hand. Abbacchio pulls a face at the number of them and looks down at his mug. Right, he had meant to save a sip.

“Here,” Bruno offers his own with a smile. “We’ll get more in a bit.”

“If you’re sure...” Abbacchio could always go get his own, but he has a feeling that doing so will result in more small talk, and he’s not quite up for that yet.

“I am,” Bruno reassures him before taking up the bowl of yogurt and fruit in absence of his coffee. “Just leave enough for me to take mine.”

[jokertrap-ran]

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Main Story Chapter 2-18: 时间针脚 The Patchwork of Time Translation

“Why do you look like someone who got caught red-handed with their hand in the cookie jar?“

*Light and Night Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *Main story tag will be #For Light and Night

For the next one week, I threw myself into the making of Lin Yao's dress.

MC: It's finally done! Now all that's left is the fitting; but she's so busy, I don't know when she'll be able to schedule a fitting session.

Zheng Lin: You're lucky. Lin Yao will be coming down today for a shoot for "Neverland", a magazine that's under a subsidiary of Warson's.

Zheng Lin: You can contact her agent and check with them about it.

MC: Will do!

Because of her tight schedule, the fitting session ended up being slotted after the shoot.

The magazine's shooting location was at a studio near Warson. Brother Mao had already brought the dress over for me beforehand.

❖☆———————————★❖

By the time I finally finished my work on hand and headed out of the office, ready to cross the alley over to the studio, a spot of white at a corner of a wall caught my attention.

The person carefully looked around before slowly crouching down, seemingly in search of something.

MC: ...Why does that person look so familiar?

I approached the figure as I mused about that. A silver head of hair, dressed entirely in white; the answer clicked in my head almost immediately.

SARIEL!? What's he doing here!?

What surprised me, even more, was the fact that he was currently facing a couple of dustbins and a pile of discarded items.

Wasn't Sariel all about cleanliness!? The headlines were already flashing in my head. "The Black History of the Top of the Top Designer Scavenging for Rubbish".

I hurriedly shook my head and threw the absurd thought out of the window.

★Night Choice: Sneak away

I should hurry and sneak away before he realizes I'm here…

I lightened my footsteps and prepared to sneak away from him behind his back.

Sariel: You. What are you doing here?

MC: !

He saw me! I could only turn around and smile sheepishly at him.

MC: What a coincidence to meet you here, Director Qi...

He'd already reverted to his usual high and haughty self. He watched me with his arms folded.

Sariel: How coincidental, indeed. Why is it that every time I see you, not only are you not taking your job seriously, but also look like you're harbouring a guilty conscience?

MC: But, you were squatting on the ground doing god-knows-what earlier. Isn't that more…

Sariel: What did you say?

MC: Nope! Nothing at all! What great weather out today!!

The words had just left my mouth when a cloud gently floated past the sky above us.

Sariel raised his eyebrows, the contempt reflected in his eyes speaking larger than words. I had the nagging feeling that he was about to start berating me again.

Sariel: Don't change the topic. What exactly are you doing here?

☆Light Choice: Watch curiously

Logically thinking about it, I should sneak away while I still had the chance since he hadn't noticed me yet; but, I couldn't quite stop my curiosity.

Plus, seeing Sariel like that really gives people a lot to think about. Not only does he look terribly secretive about something, but he was also crouched by a dustbin in search of something.

MC: Just what is he looking for?

I followed his line of sight, but all I could see was a pile of yellow sand, a few steel frames, and two rubbish bins. I looked away in confusion, but my eyes were soon met with his inquisitive ones the moment I raised my head.

MC: D-D-Director Qi!

I was startled so bad that my words came out in a stuttered mess. Sariel had already stood back up, facing me with folded arms.

Sariel: What are you doing here? And why do you look like someone who got caught red-handed with their hand in the cookie jar?

MC: I'm only passing by for work purposes…

Sariel: Do I look that easy to fool to you?

MC: I'm not lying. I'm only passing by because of work! I'm headed to the shooting studio over there!

I hurriedly pointed to the shooting studio situated at the other end of the alleyway to prove my innocence. He glanced over before his eyes flickered back to me. He stared me in the eye for a while before finally breaking contact.

MC: Are you looking for something, Director? Do you need me to help look for it with you?

Sariel: ...What did you see?

He suddenly stiffens. That expression of his… Did I see something I shouldn't have?

MC: Nothing! Zilch, nada! I didn't see anything!

Sariel: I don't need your help. Hurry along your merry way now.

MC: Oh, okay… See you then, Director.

Sariel only released the breath he didn't know he'd been holding only after the girl's figure disappeared.

He picked up a small branch, meticulously giving it a thorough cleansing before surveying the area once more. After confirming that there was no one in the vicinity, he crouched back down. He poked the mound of sand. No reaction. He knocked on the trash cans. Nothing.

Sariel: …...

The sunlight shines upon the ground, highlighting the speck of dirt staining his shoe.

He resisted the urge to wipe it clean. Instead, he continued to poke the mound of sand near him.

And in the next moment, the mound of sand moved. The fallen leaves that had been above it letting out a crisp "crunch".

Sariel's brow furrowed as he used the stick to flick the sand away bit by bit.

Sariel: Come out.

A plump lizard poked its head out of the sand with great difficulty. One glance at Sariel was enough to make it burst into tears.

Lizard: Old Qi! You've finally come for me! Hurry and save me! I won't leave home again! I'm not complaining if you make me go vegetarian anymore!

Sariel: Silence.

Sariel unscrewed the cap of a bottle of mineral water, placing it on the floor before retreating a couple of steps.

Sariel: Wash yourself before you go. If I spot a single grain of sand back home...

Lizard: I'm gonna be turned into a braised lizard.

He let out a satisfied sneer before taking a big stride away, turning to leave.

Lizard: Hey! Wait up, Old Qi! Who's that human girl just now?

Lizard: I'd passed out, but I reawakened when I heard her voice!

Lizard: I can't help but feel like she sounds a little familiar. Like I've heard her before...

Sariel stops and suddenly turns back around.

Sariel: What did you say?

❖☆———————————★❖

MC: Achoo!

I consecutively sneezed thrice as I headed to the shooting studio. Is someone talking about me behind my back or something?

❖☆———————————★❖

I entered the shooting studio as I thought it over, only to see Brother Mao, who was standing by the entrance, the moment I looked up.

Brother Mao: You're here only NOW? Here, here. Come here!

MC: What's up, Brother Mao? It's still early, no? Why are you so panicky?

Brother Mao: The shooting ended early— No, wait. I suppose I should say that it's been forcibly postponed till tomorrow.

MC: Huh? But why?

Brother Mao: Because of Lin Yao's agent, of course!

Brother Mao: She said that the photographers weren't the ones that they'd chosen, so they weren't going to be shooting today. She said that they were going to do it tomorrow instead when the right photographers are here!

Brother Mao: You know how I'm usually fast to run my mouth? Well, the scariest thing was that I couldn't even put a word in...

MC: ……

MC: What did Lin Yao say about it?

Brother Mao: She only stood there, not a peep from her. From the looks of it, it looks like both mother and daughter are in agreement.

MC: Mother and daughter? The agent's her mom?

Brother Mao: Yeah. I think she pampers her kid too much. That's why she's being so picky and choosy with us.

MC: Well, that shouldn't be the case. All reports have said that Lin Yao is very sensible and easy to talk with.

Brother Mao: Hell, I don't know! Go take a look for yourself.

MC: And Lin Yao? Where's she now?

Brother Mao: She went to try out the clothes.

Brother Mao: I have a bad feeling, though. Her agent had a look of distaste on her face when she took the clothes earlier. I don't know if she��

BANG!

The door to the dressing room suddenly flung open with terrifying viciousness.

Brother Mao and I jumped in fright. A cold and shrill feminine voice sounded before we could even react in time.

??: You call these clothes wearable!?

Brother Mao: And that's the agent.

Following the rapid clicking of high heels, a woman dressed in a sleeveless dress walked up to him and stared him down with her hands on her hips.

Agent: Our Yaoyao is sincerely and earnestly putting in the effort for this cooperation. She even especially delayed her flight!

Agent: All for the sake of trying on her dress!

Agent: Yet, how dare you give us this half-hearted dress that's not even suitable!? I want to see your Designer!

MC: ……

MC: Hello. I am (Y/n), the Designer.

Agent: Is Warson treating us as fools? You're so young; you must be an intern! Warson can't just ride roughshod over its customers like that!

Brother Mao: Who says that being young equals being an intern!? She's one of our best Designers!

Brother Mao had a vein protruding on his forehead in his ire. I quickly reassured him that everything was fine.

MC: You can feel free to tell me just what about this outfit you're unsatisfied with. This is what this fitting session is for. I will try my best to modify it.

The agent coldly contemplated us for a good long while before turning and walking back into the dressing room. Brother Mao and I followed after her.

❖☆———————————★❖

Although I had a calm facade on the outside, I was a whirlwind of emotions within. I most definitely didn’t know what Lin Yao looked like, wearing those clothes.

Upon seeing her, I felt my heart plummet to the ground with a loud thud, as if it were a stone.

She stood there indifferently, positioned between light and shadows. Her skin was so pale that it appeared as if light could permeate through it. She looked like a dark elf emerging from the depths of the moonlit waters.

She slowly turns around at the sound. She had an expressionless look on her face. Was she in a bad mood?

Agent: What’s with this gloomy colour? Pink is what suits our Yaoyao best! Get it? Girly pink!

Agent: Also, this dress is way too short! It should reach below the knees at least so that it can highlight her pureness and innocence.

Agent: These metal tassels are inappropriate as well! God knows if they’ll think that she’s a bad girl wearing these!

Agent: Also, Yaoyao got injured while filming beforehand, so her scar must be covered.

Brother Mao: But, you never mentioned anything about scars beforehand…?

Agent: Who would want to be injured? It’s an accident.

Looking at the scars on Lin Yao’s forearm and wrist, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of pity.

MC: I will think of something for her scars. The other aspects of the design were designed to suit the character she portrays, that's why I didn't go for the innocent and soft look.

MC: I also hope that Miss Lin Yao here will be able to portray a different image to the masses with this outfit.

Agent: You are a Designer, are you not? It is your DUTY to help us make these adjustments.

I ignored her, walking straight to Lin Yao.

MC: Miss Lin Yao, may I ask if this dress is satisfactory to you?

MC: If you do not like it, then we can shelve this and I'll start designing a new one right now. You can just tell me if that's the case; there's no need to feel bad.

Lin Yao was silent. She seemed to be looking at me, yet not quite. She gradually pressed her lips into a thin line, as if making a hard decision.

I was just about to take her silence as a “no” when she finally spoke.

Lin Yao: Mother. This style is what's been recently trending. You can't deny that this might open more doors for me in the future.

Lin Yao: And, have you already forgotten the interview by the media the other day where they were asking when I'd be able to change my image once in a while?

Upon hearing this, her agent shot her a long and profound look, as if she’d wanted to say something, yet it wasn’t too convenient for her to do so seeing as we were also present. Eventually, she gave a reluctant nod.

Agent: Fine. I’ll go ask about the photographer issue again. Hurry and change back out of your clothes.

Brother Mao shot me a look before following after her.

❖☆————— ⊹ For Light & Night⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Chapter 2-15) | Next Part: (Chapter 2-21)

[derireo]

sad little pair ↦ itaru & izumi

cw: high school au, a story spoiler or two from kniroun. angst? hurt/no comfort?

"Hey." Izumi gently pokes Itaru's arm with the button of her pen to catch his wandering attention. It's currently study hall, but Izumi can't focus, and her friend doesn't seem too keen on doing work either.

Her prodding at his arm makes Itaru look up from the intricate wood patterns on his desk. His overgrown fringe falls over his eyes, but he can still see Izumi.

He rests his cheek in his palm, gaze staring at her through his fingerprint stained glasses. "What."

His tone is uncaring, but Izumi knows he's just bad at his delivery. She quietly gets up from her chair to stand beside Itaru's desk, and she crouches, hands gripping the edge of his table.

Her eyes are sparkling, albeit dimly. It looks like she has an idea in mind.

"Let's dip." She murmurs with a little upwards tilt to the corner of her mouth. "I wanna go home."

Itaru lazily nods his head in agreement. "Same."

Izumi's light up just a bit more, and Itaru feels kind of happy although he was barely able to lift her mood.

"Let's go at lunch." Itaru suggests to which Izumi smiles.

“‘Kay.”

"Sometimes looking at you makes me feel sad." Izumi mumbles softly, sitting cross legged above Itaru's head as he lies on the floor with a handheld game console in his grip.

She says that sentence with a barely amused smile, but it only makes Itaru scoff half-heartedly. He takes a glance up at her towering figure as he feels her fingers brush back his messy fringe.

"Then stop looking at me." He shrugs.

His tone is indifferent, but Izumi knows that his response is lighthearted. She smiles a little more. Readjusts his glasses for him.

"But looking at you can also make me happy." She urges, just in case there was a little part of Itaru that was annoyed with her comment. Izumi's fingers help keep Itaru's hair away from his face as he plays his game. "I feel less lonely.”

Itaru looks at her again, clearer this time now that he paused his game to pay more attention to the conversation they're having. "Well. We're friends.”

He puts his handheld console on his chest, screen down. Folds his hands above his stomach as Izumi playfully flattens his fringe to cover his vision.

"Yeah." She says after a pause. "But sometimes I feel like you get tired of me. My presence can be a bit much. I know.”

Itaru scoffs. "What presence? And if I was tired of you, I'd have left long ago." His voice tells Izumi that she’d gone and upset him.

"Where is this coming from, Tachibana?" Itaru asks her. His pink irises glimmer in the lowlight of the living room as he searches Izumi's face for any non-verbal cues. He doesn't find any

"I don't know." Izumi shrugs. She fixes his fringe and moves to shove her hands between her thighs to warm them. "The night makes me think.”

Her expression is slightly bashful, but it doesn't endear Itaru one bit. He crosses an arm beneath his head and gently reaches out to poke her cheek with his hand

"And it's still the afternoon. Stop thinking so hard.”

And, well... Yeah. Okay. She can probably do that.

Izumi turns her head to look out the window of her living room and smiles blankly. She nods in acknowledgement, looking back at Itaru with an eerily unfocused gaze.

"Yeah..." She trails off slowly.

It makes Itaru want to sigh.

Her mom never really liked showing her face when Izumi was around. And when they did end up seeing each other at home, Izumi's mom wouldn't stay around long enough to hold a conversation.

She'd leave the room if Izumi entered, and sometimes she'd even leave the house if she found no reason to stay.

This started around the time when Izumi's father left, so really. Izumi was just stuck.

Stuck being alone.

Itaru understands why she's being like this right now, but it still makes him wonder: Doesn't she get tired of feeling this way?

"Looking at me now, how are you feeling?" Itaru asks quietly. He watches her movements through his overgrown fringe and he can tell that she's slowly beginning to smile again.

"...I'm happy." She murmurs.

"Less lonely?" He asks another question.

"A little." Izumi frowns. Her brown eyes meet Itaru's, and she reaches out to lightly pat her palm against his cheek. "You're lonely too."

Her gentle touch isn't enough to quell the annoyance that flares inside of Itaru when she points out his similar problem. He still tries to keep his ill-temper at bay, though. For the sake of Izumi.

He blinks his eyes twice, thrice. Gazes up at the ceiling with pursed lips and an indifferent hum.

"I don't think I am." He argues, voice quiet.

It makes Izumi smile again. It's very much like him to pretend and deny things about himself.

"You and I both know that we're hanging around each other more because that guy is gone."

The mention of 'that guy' makes Itaru sip in a quick breath. His pink irises grow sharp as he looks at Izumi who was staring back; looking innocent as if she had done nothing wrong.

"Don't mention him." Itaru says lowly.

He didn't really care about the incident that had happened weeks ago anymore, but just remembering that he was friends with that type of person was something Itaru wanted to forget.

"If only he hadn't pulled that stunt, I'm sure you'd be with him instead of me right now." Izumi muses; observant as always.

And well, she's probably right. At this time of day, he'd usually be in the classroom with his 'friend', talking about Knights of the Round Table. Itaru only talks to Izumi after school, when he walks her home or when he stays over to study.

It's rare for him to be with Izumi for longer than three hours a day, actually. So it's funny. Funny how Itaru doesn't even know if he considers Izumi a friend.

A real one.

Does she consider him a friend?

Is she lying when she says he makes her feel less lonely or is it true?

And why does it feel like he's being selfish?

"Do you feel like I'm only using you as a substitute for his absence?" Itaru asks after a while of silence between the two students, and he frowns, vision briefly going out of focus due to Izumi going back to playing with his fringe.

He gives Izumi time to mull over her answer to his question, but Itaru's only given a shrug.

"I guess, but it doesn't bug me."  She starts, pinching a few strands of his hair between her fingers. "I'm a nice replacement, don't you think?"

Her teasing smile is what barely makes Itaru chuckle, but the young boy goes back to his normal brooding.

"I'm sorry."

The apology makes the girl pause in her messing around with his hair and frowns down at him. She couldn’t see the hundreds of thoughts that ran through his head, but it felt like she still saw right through him. "...Why?"

"I didn't mean to cast you aside." He mutters quietly and scratches his cheek, eyes darting between his friend's face and the ceiling of her living room. "I left you alone for too long."

"It's okay. You two were always happy when talking about Kniroun." Izumi shrugs. She doesn't really understand why he's feeling bad.

She knows that Itaru feels more comfortable around Tonooka than he feels with her so how can she blame him?

Itaru doesn't want to think about Tonooka. "I should have kept you some more company, at least."

"It's okay. I'm fine with the quiet walks home."

"Izumi. I don't... Ugh, I—I don't want you to say that." Itaru grasps for straws at this point. "You need to be more vocal with your own thoughts, wants, and needs."

"Well... If anything. I just want us to stay friends. For a long time." Her wish is simple and barely satisfies Itaru's need to feel less guilty, but he doesn't argue.

He gathers the courage to look at Izumi again and feels himself falter when he notices her smile.

"Do you think we can manage that?" She asks him, innocent.

And don't get mad at him, but the question almost had Itaru laughing at the absurdity.

People don't stay friends after high school.

People in high school aren't worth keeping as friends.

Itaru doesn't want to make a promise he can't keep.

"I don't know." He says honestly, lightly brushing away Izumi's hands from his face. "Seems a little difficult."

"Since our interests don't really align, right?" She says what Itaru had been thinking and the blond frowns.

Izumi smiles kindly, not at all upset. Of course, she knew. Itaru, busy with his games, busy with his studies, busy with anything else that didn’t pique Izumi’s interest. He sees her the same way; busy with acting, busy with working, busy with self-loathing.

None of that interested Itaru just as much as Izumi to him.

Funny, that, although they were completely different, they were also quite similar.

Lonely. Closed off. Acting like someone they’re not.

“I’m surprised we’re still friends.” Izumi muses, brown eyes staring straight through Itaru as his eyes looked up at her ceiling.

“We tolerate each other, if anything.” He says, avoids returning Izumi’s stare. His throat bobs, and suddenly there’s a vine of guilt climbing up his spine and wrapping around his neck.

He’s making it sound like he doesn’t consider her a friend; disregarding everything he said earlier in their conversation.

But, after Tonooka...he isn’t sure if he even wants one anymore.

There’s still a lot more he can lose if Izumi turns on him too.

Their silence stretches on for what feels like hours after Itaru’s last statement, Izumi’s eyes unblinking and void of any emotion. She isn’t sure if he’s pushing her away, having experienced much harsher treatment from her mother, but she prepares her heart for the icy hurt that would soon come.

Itaru’s uncomfortable by her stare. Almost like she’s staring at the floor and not him.

Almost like she’s choosing not to see him.

“How am I making you feel now?” He asks, quiet, as to not startle her.

Her unfocused eyes revert themselves at the question, and thankfully, he’s in her sights again. Itaru lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and runs a hand through his hair.

“Um.” She starts, wringing her hands in her lap. Her lips are red with how much she’s been biting them, and she looks almost conflicted. Like she didn’t want to tell him the truth.

Itaru reaches out, tenderly brushing his fingers against her cheek. “You can tell the truth.”

She barely registers his touch; something that doesn’t happen often. Izumi loves it when he initiates physical affection, but it seems that she doesn’t even notice this time around.

“Lonely.” She says, softly. “You want to leave.”

Itaru flinches at the sudden warmth of her tears dripping onto his fingers, and his breath catches when he sees that she still isn’t blinking.

Her face doesn’t move a muscle although there are tears leaking from her eyes and Itaru has to drop his hand from her face so that they would stop sliding down his arm.

Her voice is oddly calm, void of the sadness that her eyes show and Itaru sits up with an anxious feeling digging into his stomach.

“I didn’t say that.” He croaks. There’s a fire crawling up his throat that makes him struggle to speak, the burn making him stumble over his words as he reaches for Izumi’s shoulders to pull her limp body into his chest.

“I just—I-I...I don’t know if I can promise that I’ll stay.” He says truthfully, but still winces at the words that brought no comfort.

“It’s okay.” She speaks into Itaru’s shoulder, his arms wrapping around her.

Her nose stings and brings a fresh wave of tears to pool in her eyes. She laughs it off though, albeit weakly, and lets her face twist into a pained expression when she knows Itaru isn’t looking at her.

“It was fun being your friend.” She whispers, lifting a heavy hand to comfort Itaru by patting his back.

As they say. Nothing lasts forever.

[avversiera-writes]

‘till death do us part - chapter 2 [tobirama senju/you]

Chapter 2 - Union

Summary: In which there are many preparations to make for the wedding, and Tobirama has a hard time keeping his brother in check.

Words: 4.3k

A/N: Merry Christmas! I try to keep everything under 5k TT

Also available on AO3. 

<< Chapter 1 - Allegiances  

Eight months later…

Because for some reasons beyond your understanding, you are not allowed to see Tobirama days prior to the wedding. It is in accordance with the Senju clan traditions, and while you are very happy to adapt to their customs and whatnot, this part seems so absurd to you. You are really beginning to miss that scowling face of your betrothed, and you have not even married yet. 

  Then again, maybe this is why such a tradition exists. Time and distance do make the heart grow fonder.

  All you can do is busy yourself with teaching kenjutsu at the Academy part-time, more reading and bride preparations with Mito, and advising your newly Chunin students, since you cannot run missions with them while you wait to be married. The three of them seem to enjoy their newfound autonomy from you, and while you worry for them, you are glad that they are learning to be on their own. 

Fortunately, you had found a friend in your future sister-in-law, Uzumaki Mito. 

  While she can be firm and strict, you find that you can easily open up to her and even joke around with her, as you tend to do to diffuse any negative feelings in the air. You couldn’t help it. Humor is always a comforting fallback when everything feels bleak. 

  "Are you alright?" Mito asks, as she helps you fit into your wedding robes. "You seem preoccupied." 

  You shrug. "I guess I am nervous." 

  Mito smiles and brushes your hair aside. "I'm sure he is, too." 

"Did you also go through these traditions?" 

  Mito tampers down a smile. "Not all of them. You are kind of the first big event for the family in a while. Even my eldest son did not get such grandeur for his wedding." 

  You raise an eyebrow. "Really?"

  "Hashirama insists on throwing you and Tobirama a huge celebration, and well, back then, we were at war. I was married young, and my focus was on helping my husband, the tailed-beasts, our young village and alliances. And raising our firstborn son." 

  "Sounds like a full plate." 

Mito chuckles. "It was." 

  You let out a small, nervous laugh. "I hope I am not letting you all down or anything. I did not live in the same circumstances. I couldn't possibly relate." 

  "Oh, how preposterous. We are happy that you are marrying into our family. You need not to worry." 

You smile discreetly, touched by Mito’s words. "I am flattered, thank you." 

  Mito turns you around by the shoulders and studies you. "Please take care of Tobirama. You know how he is." 

Mito hums and meets your eyes, back to her serious self. "Now, would you like your hair up or down?" 

//

When Hashirama is not attending to his Hokage duties or taking care of his family, he is nowhere to be found except in places where his vices are exacerbated. If no one is there to keep him in line, he passes his time by getting inebriated wherein he can barely put one foot in front of the other, or his new favorite past-time: gambling. 

  Tobirama, as much as he has refined his sensory skills, cannot find his elder brother. 

  Which means that he really does not want to be found. 

  However, he always knows where Hashirama will end up. He just has to follow the paper trail of new debt and hearsays from the common folk that are now residing in the village. 

  Tobirama is not angry, but he is frustrated that his brother refuses to get his act together. It has been months, and the year is almost about to end but his brother is still caught up with Madara’s desertion, and it is hindering his job as Hokage. Tobirama can only do so much to support his elder brother, and while he will never give up on him, the job gets challenging when he has to be there to guard his brother’s decisions and thoughts. 

  Tobirama will let him wallow in his grief, but he cannot allow him to sabotage the very village that he had dreamt of establishing. 

This was his dream, and Tobirama has sought to make sure that it will stand for the future generations to come. 

  It does not help that Hashirama keeps throwing money on him to ensure that his wedding is a huge spectacle in the village. He would have liked it to be a small family affair, but Tobirama just wants to do whatever he can to make his brother feel better. The truth is, Hashirama is a pretty good gambler, but as always, he takes uncalculated risks that empties his pockets at the end of the night. When he does not want to quit, he ends up taking from their clan’s money and the village’s coiffers.

  Tobirama has no choice but to keep reprimanding him, and while it is one of his many specialties, it is not easy to do so. He understands so well that his brother is hurting that it frustrates him to no end. 

  Mostly because he has no remedy for this but time. A concept that he continuously battles with. 

It is nearing midnight, and Tobirama still has not found his brother. He wishes to converse with him, especially now that he is about to delve into another chapter of his life, but their brotherly talks have been scarce, and sometimes Tobirama can still sense that Hashirama still holds a small amount of resentment towards him. 

  Tobirama cannot really blame him. What he feels most guilty of, is that he is, to put it simply, happy and if he goes on his merry way, what will become of his brother? How is he in a better place when his own blood is suffering? 

  It is not fair. 

Tobirama wants to help him, wants to fix it all to make it better, because that is who he is. He is the one who has the solutions and the formulas and the theories. He is supposed to be the one to look out for his brother, to take care of him because this has been the way things were since they were little. He is supposed to make sure that Hashirama has a reasonable voice beside him. He wishes he knows what to do in order to comfort him, or maybe he just wants to be forgiven and hear those words from him. 

Despite the lateness of the night, the streets are quite energetic and bright. There are still many people milling around, some rowdy and some enjoying the activities that the night can only bring out. 

  Tobirama passes by a few active stores, and he tries to shut out the overwhelming smells and noises and the icky feeling on his skin that appears when he is in a crowded place, or when he is particularly in overdrive mode. He is glad that he is wearing his long, tight-fitted clothes, or he would have screamed if someone accidentally brushes past him. 

  Well, as loud as a stubborn person like him can scream. 

Tobirama takes a deep breath and he concentrates so that he can try again. He infuses his chakra, and starts to expand his scope, little by little, and examines the chakra signatures around him. He breaks them down, like he might a puzzle or a new object he has discovered and he holds them up for observation. He looks to the places where no one might go, listens in to spaces where no one can be heard. 

  The rest of the physical world falls away, and he connects himself to every temperamental presence surrounding him. Even those who can disappear does not mean they are completely invisible. 

  He feels the whole village in him, can count those who are sleeping and those who are still awake. He senses you as he is drawn to you like a moth to a flame, and his heart releases a tender breath, a fact that he will keep hidden from you and anyone else. 

  He keeps going.

Then, Tobirama catches a blinding presence and he zeroes in like a hawk. 

His eyes go towards the Hokage mountain, where his brother’s face is carved like a watchful god. He lets out a hefty sigh and takes to the rooftops to get to where his brother is. 

He arrives silently, and makes himself as quiet and small as possible. He hides in the shadows, and he glances at his elder brother, who is sitting on the ground and staring at the distance. The gentle breeze that passes without a pattern picks up strands of his hair and carries it along the way, for however long the breeze blows. 

  The night engulfs them like a blanket, and Tobirama waits on his elder brother, for as long as it takes. 

//

Things begin to look up two days before the wedding. 

  However, Tobirama is a mess. More than his usual mess. 

“Brother, you are getting married in a couple of days,” Hashirama chides, purposely messing up Tobirama’s weapons and the supplies he is trying to pack. “This is no time for a mission.”

  Tobirama presses his lips together into a grim, tight line. He still keeps moving around, eyes focused on his task and trying his hardest not to explode at his brother. 

“I am not going on a mission,” Tobirama looks down at his hands, which are trembling slightly. Then, he gives his brother a pointed look. 

  “Then, why all this fuss?” Hashirama raises a kind eyebrow. 

Tobirama keeps mum, and he glares at the mess his elder brother made. He was only trying to organize his things into one place so that he will know where to find them when he has moved into his newly-wed house. 

  "These are for the new house, so I won't lose them," Tobirama sighs and his forehead knits. "Elder brother…"

  Hashirama clasps his younger brother’s shoulders and steadies him. He tries to meet his gaze, but Tobirama’s eyes are somewhere else, and he looks to see that they are apprehensive, not because he does not want to marry this woman that he had courted despite his restrictions on himself, but because he is uncertain of what is to come. Tobirama never likes uncertainty. This is not like those battles he had fought that were full of surprises. At least he would know how to act and adapt. 

  Whereas, now. 

  “I do not have much to give her,” Tobirama confesses quietly, looking down at his feet. 

Hashirama’s face morphs into surprise. While it is not strange for Tobirama to confide with him, this catches him off guard since Tobirama is opening himself up to him with his doubts. 

  "Are you nervous?" Hashirama asks. 

Tobirama glares at his brother as if asking him such a question is a crime. 

Hashirama’s face softens and he looks towards the opened shoji doors. He takes a few seconds to answer, taking his time to look at the night sky that blanketed the village they founded with blood, sweat and tears. 

"You can protect her, provide to her a home...a family."

  Tobirama takes his hand to clutch the other hand and keep it from shaking. Sometimes, when he is not in battle, his hands shake randomly. Sometimes, it is aggravated by his inability to manage his emotions.

  For someone who teaches and practices the ways of controlling emotions, there are just times when it comes out like water leaking out of a dam with several holes. Tape one shut and another appears. 

"Besides, she agreed to marry you. She might have seen something past your handsome face.” 

  Tobirama rolls his eyes. "Elder brother, stop it." 

Hashirama bursts out laughing, and Tobirama smiles despite himself. It has been a while since they shared a laugh. 

"Do not worry," Hashirama reassures him and reaches for his shoulder. “Just be happy, brother.” 

Tobirama blinks. Happiness is so tangible, yet a matter he never tried to pursue. After all, what happiness can he strive for when he is at war? Then again, things have been relatively peaceful. Perhaps, he can try. As much as his sense of logic can let him. 

//

The day finally comes, that you will see the man you have been waiting for. It feels like you have not seen Tobirama in forever, and the longer the procession drags on, the more you grow impatient. You really miss the bastard, and you keep looking around just to get a glimpse of him and hurting your neck in the process because of the heavy headdress that you have allowed your hair to be subjected to. 

  You and Tobirama are in the same house, preparing and waiting for the wedding to commence, and yet, he still feels so faraway. 

  At this point, just seeing his hand might even light you on fire. 

  You honestly cannot wait. 

Your heart thuds in anticipation, as you wait with Mito at the entrance of a hallway that you are supposed to walk through. You know that Tobirama is doing the same at the other side with his brother, and the two of you will meet in the middle, in front of the altar, and where the rest of the clan members and a select few are invited, waiting to witness the wedding. 

  It has been agreed on that the wedding will be quiet, but the celebration will be a pompous one. However, the attention paid to the details are hard to miss. Your robes are white with gold stitches running up and down to make a few elegant cranes, no doubt commissioned from the best seamstresses in the village. The decorations are surreal, with colorful flowers lining your path, or curling up the posts holding, and from here, you can glimpse at the altar, which is situated under an arc of tree branches braided into one another. 

  Small doves fly past your heads, signalling you to start walking. To your left, Tobirama also begins to walk, mirroring you. 

  You synchronize your steps with him, and slowly, you are facing each other and walking towards each other. You finally meet him, and he is only a step away. 

  Tobirama stares straight at you, his focus only on you. His face is as composed as he likes to present it, but his eyes are brimming with a storm. You meet them dead on, because come what may, you are like a rock, unmoving and powerful enough to break apart crashing waves. 

Two of Tobirama’s nephews come forward, bringing three cups of sake on each porcelain tray. The priest at the altar comes forward, wearing his ceremonial robes, and he begins to speak. 

Funny enough, most of it falls deaf to your ears until Tobirama is staring at you with disbelief, no doubt preparing to lecture you in your own private time.

  Tobirama takes the first cup of sake meant for you and hands it to you, and you accept meekly. 

The priest holds out his hands towards the cup. “As you take a sip of this cup, do you promise to honor each other, to fight for one another and to be each other’s advocate?” 

  “I do,” Tobirama says, his voice rings in the air, though he only said it in his strict and quiet tone. 

  “I do.” 

  And the two of you drink the cup. 

You take the second cup, as did Tobirama. 

  “Do you promise to let go of your past in order to forge a new path for your future, to set aside differences and grow with each other, and learn to be compassionate and open to each other?” 

  “I do.” 

“These last cups–” the priest gestures, and then he picks the last cups up. Then, he pours them between the ground between the two of you and hands them back to you. “–symbolizes you as individuals. Today, you are now one.” 

  The priest re-fills the cups to the brim. 

“For as long as you are one, your cups shall never empty. Never will you walk alone again, and burden yourself with the throes of life on your own. You are man and wife, woman and husband, a union of equals as of this moment from now on.” 

You and Tobirama drink the last cup, and set it down on the trays. 

“Until death do you part,” the priest concludes. 

“Until death do us part,” Tobirama repeats, and you do the same. You stare into his eyes, completely enthralled. 

The priest takes Tobirama’s hand and yours, and he joins them. “Now, let each other in by letting your power flow through each other.” 

You close your eyes and gasp, as Tobirama’s chakra flows into your veins, and you feel him, in such an intimate way that you are moved to tears. Never had you let anyone inside you like this, not even those who are closest to you. Tobirama envelops you like kindled fire, and you are given a new sense of power. This must be what Mito had meant when she had said that she was able to give Hashirama more power. 

  You do the same with Tobirama, and he grips your hand as he lets you in. 

Then, you open your eyes, completely energized. It is like you are seeing a whole new world. 

“It is finished,” the priest announces, and the audience, which you have forgotten about explodes with applause. 

//

  The rest of the Senju clan follows you and your new husband to Hashirama’s house, where the celebration of your wedding will commence. The procession goes through and around the village, a procession worthy of the Shodaime Hokage's brother. People look on and cheer, some throw flowers, rice or beads, and children dance around the streets. Claps and sounds of joy erupt from every corner of the village, and your heart catches at your throat. 

  Mito was right when she told you there wasn’t much to celebrate in their family in a while. Your family now. 

  Beside you in the carriage, Tobirama is not exactly stiff, but is not exactly relaxed either. It seems like he is expecting somebody to come jump at him any moment now, but he is not trying to make it obvious. You glance at him, debating whether you should grab his hand but there is no need to ponder anymore when you find his hand inching towards yours, and then winding his fingers through yours. 

  You hear Tobirama sigh in relief, and you smile softly. Like in the wedding ceremony, you feel his chakra intertwine with yours and you close your eyes from the sensation. It is something so new but so familiar at the same time. You spend the rest of the ride in silence, and when the carriage stops, Tobirama gets off first, and then waits for you outside. 

  As you begin to step down, he grabs you by the waist and lowers you to the ground. 

  Pretty soon, the two of you are lost in the background music and the chatters of the people. It is a huge party, almost everyone is invited or passing through to get food and to congratulate the newlyweds. 

  You get rid of your heavy headdresses and opt for a simple style that keeps the hair away from your face. You did not want to injure your neck any further.

  You stick close to Tobirama, your husband , knowing that if you leave his side, he will get very agitated or retreat into himself. 

  Husband , you think with a smile. It is such a new word, but something that feels just right when you are near Tobirama. 

Even though it is also his day, he does not generally do well in huge, loud crowds. As a shinobi having a gift for sensory abilities, too many people in his space gets him overwhelmed too quickly, especially when he loosens up. You know that Tobirama is skilled and being around his brother who seems to have an endless reserve of chakra has honed his sensory skills, but there are too many incoming noises and smells and there are just too many colors and lights around him. 

"Let’s get out of here," you suggest to Tobirama. 

Tobirama glances around, hesitation clouding his features. "This party is for us." 

You hold back a smile. Of course, you know that he will commit to this event until the end, but you can sense his growing discomfort. 

You lean closer, and Tobirama stiffens, pulling his arms closer to his body. 

  “You okay?” You ask. You reach out to his arm and you squeeze it. Your hand barely compares to his arm. 

  Tobirama nods, but you know that he is only like this for you. You have learned long ago that his sincerity goes way beyond his words and that makes you fall in love with him even deeper. A long time ago, you would have never seen how considerate he is, but you have learned to look within. 

So, you do what you have to do. 

“Don’t we have to travel after this?” You continue, and then you smile. “I can hardly wait for you to take me on our wedding bed.”

  Tobirama’s eyes widen in alarm and he looks around, clearly embarrassed. “Stop being ridiculous.” 

  You raise an eyebrow, and you purposely make your voice louder. “So no taking me–”

  Tobirama grabs your arm, and all the noise around you abruptly ends and the atmosphere quiets. 

  Your husband slowly lets go of you, and you turn to him with a smile. 

  “Eager, aren’t you?” You tease him. 

“You need to stop doing that,” Tobirama chastises, but you hear his embarrassment through his posturing annoyance. 

  You grin cheekily, having accomplished your goal to get him to a much quieter place. You look around and you realize that you are inside the house that will be your new home after you return from your honeymoon. The house is still bare of what makes it a home for the two of you, since your things need to be moved here, but there are already furniture and ornaments around, probably a courtesy of Hashirama. He has been spending worrying amounts of money these days. 

You take a deep breath, and it dawns to you that you are really alone with Tobirama and you suddenly feel shy. The atmosphere between the two of you is not exactly awkward, but it seems like the both of you are out of words at the moment. 

“I do not know how to do this,” Tobirama murmurs quietly after a long time of looking anywhere but each other. 

  You detect a slight quiver in his voice. 

  You, being you, of course, in order to lift up the serious moment cracks a joke. “What? The consummation part?” You ask. “Contrary to popular belief, I also do not know how.”

Tobirama stares at you, unimpressed. 

You smile sheepishly and then you quiet down to let silence descend upon the two of you. Tobirama takes his time stringing his words together, and you watch his face, picking up on the subtle twitches and softening. 

  “I will not be the best husband, nor be the best man for you,” Tobirama starts, his voice low and like velvet to your ears. “But I will do everything I can to protect you and to provide for you. I will do right by you, this I promise with all my life.” 

You press a hand on his chest, and you look up into his eyes. “And I promise that I will take care of you, and stand by your side even if the world turns on you. I will be there, no matter what.” 

  Tobirama winds an arm around your waist and pulls you closer. Then he lifts you up, until you are sharing the same breath as him. He looks down at your lips, and you watch his pretty, white eyelashes flutter. 

  “Until death do us part,” he murmurs so tenderly that it nearly melts your heart. 

  You meet those sincere, red eyes. You notice how unguarded he looks. This is truly the first time you have seen him without any walls. It is quite rare, and you want to capture it in your mind forever.

  “Until death do us part,” you say back to him, and you lean forward to steal his lips. 

Tobirama freezes momentarily, but he overcomes it and he returns the kiss, even more passionately than you began it. He seizes your waist and pulls you even closer up to him, and he deepens the kiss further. Your chest against his fight for the space to expand, but air is not a necessity when you are desperately breathing him in, pulling him even closer into you. 

  You pull away, and Tobirama looks at you questioningly. He looks...almost soft. 

“Come on, let’s check out our bedroom,” you murmur and you tug on the front of his clothes. 

  Tobirama looks away and he grips your waist. 

  You grab his hand to lead him forward and Tobirama plants his feet to the ground like a child unwilling to get up when throwing a tantrum. 

“What?” You prompt, and Tobirama squeezes your hand. You look down at your joined hands and suppress a giggle. “We’re married now, aren’t we? We have to get to the best part.” 

  Tobirama glares at you. “Stop making fun of me.” 

“You signed up for it,” you retort. 

  Tobirama looks peeved. “That’s fair.” 

“Now, come on,” you smile beguilingly, and when you drag him towards the direction of your new bedroom, he follows willingly. 

To be continued...

Chapter 3 - Love Like You >>

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 105

I’ve managed to get slightly ahead on these, so: A belated thank you to @littleshydragon, @dark-chocolat-cupcake, @overusedblur, and @allegrochicken for all the love I have seen blowing up my notes recently (I’m queuing this on Aug 25, even if it won’t post until Sept 8). 

Also, to the 30 new followers who I have somehow acquired: Welcome!  Ask box is always open, and I don’t get nearly enough of them.  I love to interact with y’all, so don’t be afraid to ask me every little question you think of as you read.  Anon is on if you feel you need that.

Other than that, thanks for this chapter goes out to @baelpenrose for beta reading.  Also @quantumizedinsanity, @charlylimph-blog, @wildforestferret, @creakingcryptid, for the characters you gave me to play with in chapters like this.

Later that same ‘day’, I was forcefully reminded of Noah’s observation regarding human communication.  Things were generally calm, and an impromptu family meal-snack-thing was happening in my quarters. Antoine had been over to visit, as he seemed to be making up for lost time caused by infiltrating Jokul’s accidental cult.  Zach and Hannah were over, as well, so when dinner time rolled around, I just threw together some small po-boy sandwiches and banh mi for us to snack on while we kept visiting, rather than making a full meal.

Hey, I was allowed lazy days, too.

As it happened sometimes, conversation turned to things we either did or didn’t miss from Before.  Tonight was very firmly in the ‘do not miss’ category.

“Plagues started by dumb experiments,” Maverick pointed out, smirking.

Catching on, Conor swatted him playfully. “I said I was sorry about that! And Else is an alright person, turns out.”

Snorting, Hannah covered her face with one hand. “Tell that to Nixe.”

“Her new tail is gorgeous,” I gushed. “If I got reparations like that, I’d at least consider forgiving someone.”

“For almost killing you?”

“It was an accident,” I brushed the comment off, reminded of explaining that gesture to Noah. “Besides, there are a lot of other things I genuinely don’t miss.”

“Aunt Flo,” Hannah intoned seriously.

“Tyche and I already did that one, so it’s not admissible,” I admonished. “But spoiled food? Do not miss.”

Zach shuddered. “Hell, that’s not even from Before. I don’t miss that at all.”

Antoine lifted his coffee in a mock-toast. “To all the people we lost to antibiotics.” After a few confused looks banded around the room, I laughed and waved at him to clarify. Rolling his eyes dramatically, he sighed. “Bread mold. This is why people died in the After of antibiotic allergies: they didn’t know it was derived from bread mold.”

“Dude, that’s dark,” Zach whispered.

Clearing his throat, Conor soldiered on. “I never lived through one, but wildfires were pretty bad, yeah?”

Nodding seriously, Maverick - who had lived on the western coast of NorthAm - added “Yeah, fuck THOSE things. Australia had it worse, but still.”

Raising her hand and waving it, Hannah started making eager noises to ask for her turn.  “Absolutely idiotic job requirements, am I right?” Nods abounded, and she took the opportunity to vent the spleen I hadn’t even guessed her to possess. “The number of jobs I didn’t get because I didn’t have a degree were absurd. I don’t even know why they even required them, for some!  I’m sure most of you had that happen.”

I kept my silence, but Conor was right behind her. “A Master’s in Engineering, to be a foreman.  You’re babysitting a bunch of knuckleheads pounding rebar and pouring concrete!  And they’ve had a decade of learning to do it right, I would’ve just been there to make sure it was compliant. And they wanted a Master’s for that!”

Hannah took a sip of her drink and nodded eagerly. “That’s what I’m talking about! There was a job I qualified for that was basically a glorified secretary… They wanted a four-year degree and paid peanuts. Absurd.  But I was unemployed for way more of my life than I should have been, because I didn’t have that piece of paper.”

Idly, Zach stared at his drink.  Like me, he had one of said-degrees, so this was something of a conversation we couldn’t really take part in. “I wonder how many Councillors we would have if those kind of requirements were put in place here.” Arching an eyebrow, he glanced up at me and inclined his head knowingly.

“Well,” I exhaled. “It depends. If they asked for a Master’s degree of any kind, I wouldn’t be a Councillor.” A thought struck me. “Hey - “

“No, Sophia, you cannot recommend that as a way to retire from the Council,” Antoine scolded with a laugh. “You would be grandfathered in with everyone else.”

The laughter broke the serious tone that had descended, and led to everyone speculating jovially, starting with Conor. “Well, we know Grey would still be a Councillor in that case - they admitted they had a PhD when Else was still getting sorted, rather than an MD.”

“Pretty sure Eino has a Master’s, at least,” Zach pointed.

Maverick shook his head, firmly disagreeing. “Doctorate in Education. I saw it on his wall. Don’t sell that one short.”

“So that’s two.” Hannah leaned forward eagerly. “Conor, what about Huynh?”

“Masters in Engineering,” he confirmed ruefully. “But he’s no PhD.”

“Pranav,” Zach interjected. “Post grad in robotics. Even worked on some of the Padrugoi mission stuff, early on.”

A respectful murmur filled the room, accompanied by appropriately impressed nods. Maverick had to actually shake the starstruck look out of his eyes before he could speak. “So that’s three PhDs, one Master’s, and a Bachelor’s on the Council. Not bad, honestly.”

Antoine cleared his throat politely. “Grey actually has two doctorates, if I am recalling correctly.”

I shook my head firmly. “Three. Biochemistry, genetics, and molecular chemistry.”

With a low whistle, Conor shook his head. “So, we have a clear leader as far as ‘most degrees on the Council’. Would Eino or Pranav be second, though?”

An argument erupted, and when it looked like Zach was about to say something, I shook my head. I knew the same thing he was about to point out, as a by-blow of fixing some of Derek’s more… enthusiastic shenanigans,  but I wanted to see if anyone would figure it out or even question it.  A solid half-hour later, Tyche arrived and scooped up a mini-sandwich before she even registered the conversation/argument taking place.

Whirling to face me, she pointed at the rest of the room and glared at me disdainfully. “Seriously? How long has this been going on?”

“Forty five minutes?” I admitted sheepishly. “Maybe an hour if you include the ‘what we don’t miss’ portion of the conversation.  But ‘degrees on the Council’ has been at least forty five minutes.”

“And you said fuck all?”

I shrugged. “I know it’s not me who has the most or even second most.  I have the least formal education of any Councillor.”

Tyche pinched the bridge of her nose and blew out a long breath. “Okay, everyone. What do you know so far?”

Without hesitation, Maverick rattled it off. “Grey has three doctorates, Eino has one and  a Master’s, it turns out. Pranav has one doctorate and a Bachelor’s. Huynh has a Master’s, and Sophia has a Bachelor’s.”

“And the Councillor you have left out?” she interrogated wearily, while Zach and I tried to restrain our laughter.

“Xiomara?” he asked, face scrunched in confusion. “She was career military, but I don’t know if she has any degrees. Maybe a Bachelor’s?”

Tyche shook her head, glaring again when I started gasping for breath. “Wrong. And you know what? Soph knew this, so I’m going to make her tell all of you. Like she should have. From the beginning.”

“Hey!” I cried, still giggling. “I was giving them a whole other 5 minutes before I broke the news. I just wanted to see if they would even question their reasoning.”  Antoine’s eyes got wide, sending me into another giggling fit. “None of you even mentioned the idea of Xiomara having any degree,” I gasped, almost in hysterics. “Mav was in the military, so I get that he just assumed she was busy as fuck, but… et tu, everyone?”

Hannah’s head turned slowly to stare down Zach. In self defense, he held up both hands with one pointing at me. “She told me not to say anything.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I did!”

Carefully, Conor slowly asked the question that was on everyone else’s minds. “Sophie? What’s so funny?”

Tears were pouring down my face at this point - not because I thought the situation was funny, because it wasn’t. Not really.  I was hysterical because I was so caught off guard that we still brought something like this with us. “I don’t know the real reason why nobody considered Xiomara, and I’m scared to ask at this point. I’m hoping it’s because she looks tough as hell and like the kind of person who would beat up highly educated people rather than be one.” Wiping a tear from my face, I glanced at Tyche. Her jaw was tight, clearly thinking the same things I was. “But the fact that she is the only other woman on the Council, that hurts, honestly.”

I took a few deep breaths to compose myself. “The fact is, Xiomara has five degrees. Five. Along with her military career. Tyche and I have to know this, since we handle staffing.” Counting on my fingers, I started ticking them off. “Two doctorates, one in international law and one in experimental economics - as in, yes, the calorie economy was her idea. A Master’s in military history, along with two Bachelor’s degrees: one in experimental chemistry and one in nuclear physics.” Shaking my head, I glanced at the shocked and guilty expressions in the room. “It isn’t three PhDs, but damn, y’all. The woman has five degrees!”

“How did she do that, and a military career, so young?” Maverick asked, his tone nothing but awed.

Antoine looked confused at the question. “My friend, how old do you think Xiomara is?”

He shrugged. “Sophie’s age? So, thirtyish?”

Conor poked him. “Mav. You know how old Sophie is.”

Maverick rolled his eyes. “Fine. So maybe forty? The whole healing stuff messes with me, I’ll be honest.”

Smiling, I cut him some slack. “Xiomara is just over ten years older than me,” I clarified.

Hannah’s eyes widened, and Zach looked like he had been punched in the gut. “So hot-scary-lady is fifty?” After Tyche and I nodded, he shook his head. “That’s still super-impressive for fifty. For seventy, even!” Zach shook his head. “Grey, I could understand. They seem like the type to just live for education, you know? But, Xio? I’ve known for a year and I still get dizzy thinking about it.”

“It does explain why she’s so intimidating,” Conor pointed out. When I opened my mouth to scold him, he held up one hand. “No! No. Doctorates have to be argued and defended, right? Plus one of those is in law. And she balanced a military career on top of all that. If I accomplished all that, people would look at me with respect and expect me to be a direct, take-no-prisoners kind of person.” He glanced at Antoine, who winced and nodded in confirmation. 

“She isn’t though,” I complained. “She’s a leader.”

“Definitely not ruthless, but she is intimidating to the general population,” Hannah pointed out gently. “That’s part of what Jokul was talking about, right? The Ark, as a whole, doesn’t get to see her get excited over her favorite foods, or pictures of baby pandas, or…. Cherries? Is it cherries she’s crazy for?”

“Pomegranate,” I corrected, begrudgingly.

“Pomegranate,” Hannah asserted. “They don’t get to see that. They get to see ‘hot-scary-lady who lays down the law’. Not ‘Xiomara who gets googly eyed when Parvati Fletcher wears that one violet shirt’.”

“Or hates plantains,” Tyche pointed out. “Which never made sense to me, because fried plantains are basically dessert with dinner.”

I started to giggle a bit. “It makes even less sense when you’ve seen her order coffee.” Tyche groaned, but more confused looks bounded about the room. Full out laughing, I explained. “She… she puts… maybe three ounces of coffee? Not espresso, just regular coffee… with what looks like a gallon - “ I snorted so hard it hurt my nose, but couldn’t stop. “Of milk! And sugar! Oh gods, she must put a cup of sugar in her coffee, I swear!”

Hannah and Zach exchanged glances, as did Conor and Maverick. Within seconds, the entire room erupted in laughter. “That?” Conor gasped. “That is hilarious….”

“I...I always thought… she took her coffee blacker than sin….” Zach wheezed. “And baby pandas?”

Sobering suddenly, I straightened and glared at the entire room. “OI!” I shouted. “Baby pandas are fucking cute, and if you don’t think so, you aren’t human, and I will ask Noah to do genetic testing to prove that.”

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[suhfleur]

dear, my dear • jaebeom (3/4)

• pairing: soulmate!jaebeom x reader

• genre: romance, angst, smut

• warnings: cursing, sexual content

• word count: 3.3k

summary: in a world where a touch can lock the doors of the heart, his voice opened the doors to your soul as he filled it with joy.

a/n: i was just listening to dear, my dear, now im emotional. anyways. hope you guys enjoy, as usual forgive if there’s typos i’m too lazy to review.

• • •

The next day, anxiety had become your last name. Nothing else lurked in your head but "Jaebeom, Jaebeom, Jaebeom".

Now, he had more than a nickname, more than an artistic name. His name sounded like a sea of ​​relief to you, it confirmed that it was really real and you had spent a lot of time putting yourself in dark places, thinking absurd things, you wasted too much time. Nothing else mattered now. Not even the fact that he is predestined to someone else and so are you. Nothing could break that absurd bond that you felt with him, and only with him.

You woke up anxious, agitated, the sun had barely set and you already thought to yourself "oh, what a beautiful day", nothing would be enough to take away your good mood. Not even the absurdly crowded and noisy subway station.

Your headphones were turned up loud enough, you were just absorbed by Jaebeom's voice, with a smile on your face. A smile that never left your face, since yesterday.

You were so out of orbit that you didn't even hear it when somebody called your name, you just realized what was going on around you when someone put a hand on your shoulder, making you turn around quickly, making you face the most babiest smile ever; of LA and Seoul.

"Mark!" You exclaimed excitedly, throwing your arms around the American's broad shoulders. He looked a little bit different, dyed his hair in a bright red color, wearing sweats, as usual.

"Hey, long time no see!" He replied, laughing and tightening his arms around your waist as he swirled you in the air, trying not to hit anyone who passed by. As soon as he released you, you slapped him hard on his right arm. "Hey!"

"Don’t you 'hey' me, Mark Tuan. You said you were only going to spend 2 weeks in Thailand, why the hell did you stay there for more than 3 months? Huh? And why didn't you tell me you were coming back? I spoke to you yesterday!" You asked sulkily, putting your hands on your hips, in your best angry-mom pose.

"Look, I had no intention of staying there for so long either, ok? But you know... My soulmate is from Thailand and I didn't want to be without her, but I also didn't want to leave Korea and everything I built these last 7 years, so, I spent these months trying to bring her here... And I did it. " He informed, rubbing the back of his neck, while his cheeks were flushed. "And I wanted to surprise you, I just didn't think I would meet you here on the subway..."

"What? And why didn't you say anything to me? I hate you so much! I will finally meet her. I have to meet her, because even though Yaya sounds like a loving person, just talking to her on the phone doesn't confirm my blessing, ok? You will only marry with my permission, I’m not going to give you away just because, not even because she’s your soulmate. She has to pass the test." You said, jokingly, hugging your longtime friend again. You missed this. "What train are you going to take?"

"Actually, I'm just waiting for a friend of mine to get off at the station... And now, since my plan to surprise you with my return didn't go very well, how about we go out tonight and celebrate?" He asked, hugging her head against his chest. "Me, my Yaya, Jaehyun, Sunny and you, how about it?"

"I... I meeting with somebody today, I don't know if I can go..." You answered feeling a little guilty.

"Can't you meet that person a little later?" Mark asked with a fake sad look.

"What time do you want to make this meeting?" You asked rolling your eyes, feeling defeated.

"You and Sunny leave work around 5pm, right?" You nodded. "So, let's get together at Jaehyun's apartment, which is very close by and, if you don't want to, you can stay there for just a few minutes... But if you also want, you can call this 'person' to stay there with us." He replied, with a suggestive look, arching his eyebrows.

"I don't know if... the person is going to want to, you know? It's the first time we've seen each other in person. But, I promise I'll come and stay with you for a while." You responded, blushing.

"I think it's really good for you to actually show up, because I want to know more about this guy that you never really explained anything to me, okay?" Mark's look was emanating an order and you no other option but to say ‘yes’ to that.

"Ok, sir." You saluted, making him laugh.

The unmistakable noise of your train arriving made you get out of that bubble with Mark. You had to say goodbye for now.

"Okay, I have to go now, Markeu. See you later." You opened your arms one last time, hugging him tightly, receiving a simple kiss on your forehead.

"Be careful, okay? See you later." He said, stroking your back quickly, as you watched the train doors open and you said goodbye to him, walking backwards towards the door.

And it all happened again.

As you turned to pass the train door, someone who was leaving ran into your arm and made the coat you carried in your hand fall. When you were about to bend down to pick it up, someone else did it first, reaching out to you. You gaze went up from the floor to that person, and you saw him.

The subway guy.

And he was stunning. He was like that everyday, but man, today it was something else, you thought. He had a new piercing, which was just placed under his eye. He was so close that you could quickly appreciate his beauty and the two small moles below his left eyebrow.

Breathtaking.

You said a small and very low 'thank you', hoping that he would’ve listened, while taking your coat from his hands and that's when your body collapsed for the second time that week. When you took the coat, your fingers lightly touched the back of his hand and you felt it again. 

Your chest throbbed, shivers ran down your spine and the feeling of an absurd happiness got through your chest. Felt like your heart was screaming again, and you were static.

Of all people that could possibly be your soulmate, you were comically doomed to the guy you watched every Thursday.

He didn't seem so surprised by that feeling, he just looked at you cryptically while you stood stupidly still, until someone pushed you into the train and you saw the doors close in front of your face, again.

His eyes never left you, until the train started to move and you lost sight of him.

It felt worse than the first time because now, he had a face. You knew who your soulmate was, finally, and you didn't know how you were going to deal with that. That information ended up with everything you thought you knew, with everything you thought you could handle.

You didn't know how to deal with that. You definitely didn't.

Now, more than ever, it was all real. And it was happening to you. Like it or not, you actually don’t know how you feel about this.

And those thoughts followed you all day, without you being able to breathe for a second without thinking "it's him". Your head hurt. And the day that you thought it couldn't be spoiled, was troubled and distant. Your cell phone was forgotten again, until the moment you stopped to eat and remembered that you needed to talk to def.

When you took your phone out of the pocket, you saw messages from him.

[07:07 am] def: i’m still see you today, right?

[07:07 am] def: tell me you haven't changed your mind, please...

[07:07 am] def: i really need to see you.

[10:01 am] loftv: Of course we will see each other, I just think I’ll meet you a little later than agreed. I have to do something before that.

You thought about talking about what happened with you, but it was pointless. It shouldn’t matter to you, neither to him.

[10:02 am] loftv: Did something happen? You look strange. Idk.

[10:05 am] def: a strange thing happened today that i don't want to talk about. it doesn't matter to me. none of that matters.

[10:06 am] def: I'm fine.

[10:07 am] loftv: So, why didn't you say good morning? ):

[10:08 am] loftv: Uneducated prick! *insert angry emojis here, because I don't feel like using them*

[10:10 am] def: forgive me, madam of the valley. to make up for my lack of education and professionalism, here's a series of 'good mornings' in different languages.

[10:10 am] def: 1 - good morning.

[10:10 am] def: 2 - buenos dias.

[10:11 am] def: 3 - bonjour.

[10:12 am] def: 4 - buongiorno.

[10:13 am] def: 5 - *insert here ‘good morning’ in russian because it’s really hard and i don’t know how it is spelled*

You laughed at his nonsense. And that part of the day relieved your confused chest. At the end of the day, he was the only one for you. And anxiety knocked on your door once again. The day went by so slowly that you keep looking at your watch every 15 minutes. When it was finally time to leave, you were almost jumping of joy.

"Take it easy, Dorothy. The road to OZ is almost there." Sunny said sarcastically.

"I just want to do this soon, to meet with him." You said, opening her car door and getting in.

"Speaking like that, you look like you hate your friends." Sunny replied pretending to be hurt, placing her hand on her chest, fake crying, while starting the car.

"Shut up, actress. I'm just really looking forward to seeing him." You answered, looking out the car window, which was now moving, thinking about how you could hardly wait for that moment.

Arriving at Jaehyun's apartment, Mark was already there, talking to someone on the phone.

"Come on, man. It's only a few minutes, then you can go and do what you want!" Mark insisted to the person on the other end of the line. "I swear, if you want to stay just 10 minutes, no problem, but just show up... Okay. I'll be waiting for you." He said at last, putting his cell phone away and giving you a big smile. "Here you are, my little sweet pie full of poison." He said childishly, squeezing your cheeks.

"Do you want to die?" You questioned, punching him in the arm.

"Ouch! Why do you always want to kill me? I'm just being sweet!" He protested, as you squeezed your eyes at him.

"You are pathetic, where’s the lady that has your heart, by the way?" You asked hugging him. You missed that. Punching him and getting out unscathed, just after.

Yaya showed up from the bathroom, looking stunning, just like a Disney princess, and you looked at both of them together feeling like a proud mother. Not only was Yaya a sweetheart, turns out that she was funny and a great cook. Mark was a lucky son of a b...

It didn't take long for you to get together on the balcony of Jaehyun's apartment, talking about all the crazy events in Mark's life in Thailand over the past three months. From insane rides in a tuned Tuk Tuk with a high driver, to the perfect trip through Maya Bay, showing pictures of a place that looked like heaven itself on earth.

"My god, I really need to go to Maya Bay! Check this out!" Sunny said hysterically, while you agreed, starting to talk about ticket prices and everything about this place.

"We have to go on this vacation, and Mark, I know you just got back, but you are going too!" You said pointing at him, as you took out your cell phone to look for Maya Bay, that's when you looked at watch and saw that you had spent a lot more time there than you had planned and you needed to find Jaebeom. "Oh shit, I have to go!" You said hurriedly. While reading Jaebeom's message.

[10:10 pm] def: i'll take a while, too, but after that I'll be on my way to your house.

"But already? My friend is on his way, just wait a little!" Mark pleaded, sitting on the floor, putting both hands together in a gesture of prayer. "You'll like him, I swear! Jaebeom is so cool!"

The mention of that name made you hang up and take your eyes off your phone.

"Jaebeom?" You asked in an almost inaudible whisper, feeling your hands tremble. Sunny watched you without understanding, since you haven’t mentioned that little detail of his name to her, and Jaehyun kept eating pizza like he never ate in his entire life.

"That friend of mine that I always try to introduce you to, but it never works." Mark said, laughing and slapping Jaehyun's arm. "Do you believe that I tried to introduce these two to each other for a whole month and it always went wrong? I’m trying since May, we are in August already." He laughed harder, and Sunny chuckled, as if remembering something, still not noticing your static expression.

"I remember that. The first time was when we were at the mall, we were going to see that horror movie, Mark had everything planned to leave you and Jaebeom alone and he would disappear into the world, at end, Y/N didn’t show up and Mark was disgusted. He spent the rest of the week saying he was going to get the two of them to know each other, before he went to Thailand." Sunny laughed harder, stealing Jaehyun's piece of pizza, which he complained about with his mouth full.

"I tried every day when I was still here in Korea, but the two never collaborated. Aish..." Mark said frustratedly, messing up his red hair. "The last time I tried, it was the day before I traveled, I went to Y/N's apartment when Sunny was there, I made an excuse that I needed to talk to Sunny and Y/N just opened the door, greeted me, said a quick hi to Jaebeom, didn't even look at his face and ran to the bedroom. It was frustrating. He is a dumbass also, he was always on that damn phone. Both of them are frustrating. He was right there in your living room and you were locked in the bedroom." Mark said, looking for something on his cell phone.

Every word from Mark made your stomach turn and you felt like you were going to throw up at anytime now. You didn't know how to absorb that information.

"Ah! I found it. Look at him here with me." Mark said excitedly, crawling over to you by placing his cell phone screen in front of your eyes, showing a picture of him with the said Jaebeom. And you felt the air in your lungs disappear, and were on the verge of crying.

There he was.

The subway guy was Mark's friend. 

Your soulmate was Mark's friend.

And maybe, he was...

"He has an amazing Soundcloud account, you know? He's a great singer, I swear. You should listen to his music. You'll like it, I know it's your type of music. Search for Defsoul, later."

After that, Mark's words grew more and more distant, as you shifted your gaze from the screen to Sunny's face, who stood still, with a piece of pizza in her mouth, looking directly at you, as astonished as you, while understanding what was going on.

Your chest tightened in an absurd way and you felt numb. The tears came hard and you got up off the floor quickly, running to the apartment door.

"I need to breathe… Just give me a second..." You said in a low, almost strangled, voice. Your chest seemed to want to explode, your breath was messy. You walked down the building's corridor in slow steps, barefoot, leaning on the walls. Your hand was shaking like never before and you could barely see the keyboard as you typed on your phone.

[10:20 pm] loftv: Mark.

[10:20 pm] loftv: Do you know Mark?

[10:20 pm] loftv: Please.

[10:20 pm] loftv: Tell me that you’re the one that it’s coming here. That you are Mark's friend.

[10:20 pm] loftv: Tell me it was you on the subway.

[10:20 pm] loftv: Please.

You typed while tears fell on your phone screen.

[10:21 pm] loftv: Please tell me that you are my soulmate. Please, I can’t spend the rest of my life with somebody that is not you. I don’t want to.

[10:22 pm] loftv: Please. 

[10:22 pm] loftv: Tell me it's you.

The minutes passed and no answer came, and everything just seemed to get worse. Your chest was unable to rest and your legs felt weak. Nothing had prepared you for that, not even your best dream. He was always there, all the time, crossed your path several times and in different ways; nothing could make you believe that this was the reality.

The noise of the elevator doors took you out of your state, making you realize that you were in the middle of a building's corridor, crying, while looking at the floor. Quickly, you tried to pull yourself together in the best way possible, drying your tears with the sleeve of your black shirt, but it was all in vain when you saw who was coming out of the elevator.

In a dark blue shirt and slightly ripped jeans, his hair was messing up, his chest rising heavily fast, as if he had been running for miles, his face was all red while holding his phone. When his eyes met yours, you felt like you were about to die, drowning in so many feelings. He came to you in hurried steps, but they seemed absurdly distant from you. He stopped inches away from you, his eyes scanning every single piece of your face, every emotion hidden in your eyes, he was absorbing everything.

"Return of happiness." He whispered, incredulous. "The lily of the valley usually blooms on the 1st of May and in some countries where it grows, tradition says that offering the plant brings good luck. It is such a humble flower, but so, so beautiful." He went on, reaching out to touch your cheeks with his fingertips, and that shiver, which was becoming something habitual to you, ran through your whole body again. Your heart had never beat so hard like this. "It is a source of inspiration for a better scenario. In the language of the flower, the lily of the valley means 'return of happiness'," he continued, as he raised his hand to the back of your neck, tilting his face so that your foreheads were glued together. You squeezed the fabric of his shirt between your fingers, pulling him closer to you. He never stopped looking at you; so intense that it just made your heart slowly unravel. "That's what you mean to me. From day one. You brought back everything I didn't know I had let go of. You brought back my happiness. You are the return of my happiness."

He whispered those words, as if he had been telling his most precious secret, then pressed your lips together, while holding your face in both hands, as if he was afraid that you would disappear. Every part of your body warmed and trembled at his touch, as if his touch was the trigger for all the feelings you once suppressed in your life.

Nothing but happiness emanated from your soul.

You could feel yourself crying without even realizing it; felt like your heart was shaking saying 'thank you, you're finally here, my love'.

"I love you," he said after pulling away from your lips for just a second, returning to kiss you with fury and passion.

And again, nothing had prepared you for reality.

[cutietobio]

Hello there, I really enjoy your writing! Do you think you can do headcanons of Kageyama, Kenma, Yaku, Nishinoya, and Kunimi with a (s/o) who has really bad social anxiety? Kinda like they are comfortable around people they know but it's really bad if they are in a room with a bunch of random strangers. If you not comfortable with this kind of thing that's fine ^^. I hope you have a wonderful day!

To make this a bit easier, I set out the scenario of: ‘You and your boyfriend are forced to attend a party.’ as I found making general headcanons for this to be quite tricky without a scenario.

Hope this is still to your liking regardless, anon! Also, I’m very glad you enjoy my writing and I hope you have an equally as wonderful day, thank you!

KAGEYAMA

- If you’re socially anxious, it may not be ideal to attend parties with your socially awkward boyfriend. He would follow YOU around and be dependent on YOU more than anything else. Every time you peer over your shoulder, there he is looking like a loyal puppy following their owner.

- Despite this, Kageyama knows how anxious you can be around strangers, he suggests finding a quiet spot where you’re comfortable enough to hang out for the duration of the party. Once you find this spot, which is far away from any menacing strangers, Kageyama will attend to your every need. You’re thirsty but you don’t want to go inside because they’re playing beer pong near the drinks? Don’t fret, he’ll get up and get you something, all the while promising to be quick because he doesn’t like the thought of anyone approaching your lonesome self.

- If anyone does try come up and talk to you, especially if it’s someone you don’t know or just don’t like, he’s gonna stare them down with the most intense glare that they either confront him about it and he tells them to go away or they take their leave themselves. If this person forces you to converse, and you’re starting to grow nervous, he’ll wrap an arm around your shoulders and casually escort you off without paying them an explanation.

- He doesn’t find parties very entertaining anyway, so it’s not as if he feels like he’s missing out much on what shitstorm is raging on inside the rest of the house. There’s no need to feel like you’re burdening him by keeping him away from all the fun because he thinks hanging out in a quiet corner with you is more fun than getting wasted and having dry, awkward conversations with others.

- After snatching all the good food and having a pleasant feast for two, he suggests leaving because it’s getting too cold and they don’t have his favourite type of milk in the fridge. (this dude would lowkey ignore all the food and drinks laid out and rummage through peoples fridges so unironically I swear-)

 KENMA

- The both of you were likely forced to go to the party, probably by an overbearing Kuroo who complained that the two of you never get out and have some fun or potentially meet new people. He thinks it will do you both good, oblivious to your social anxiety.

- Kenma might not be too socially anxious but he definitely suffers some symptoms, I see him as more unsocial than anything else. He’s very understanding regarding your anxiety and reassures you that he’ll make sure you aren’t put into an uncomfortable position. Once Kuroo is distracted, Kenma grips your wrist and tugs you deeper into the house. You feel a bit strange, yes the crowd is dwindling but you feel as if you’re invading the host’s privacy. Too bad Kenma doesn’t care.

- He opens a few doors, looking inside each of them before eventually spotting a bedroom and stepping inside with you. He locks the door after, knowing too well that Kuroo will likely try hunt you both down in the next half hour. Kenma makes himself at home while you’re standing around awkwardly, examining the surroundings of the stranger’s bedroom. Your attention is stolen by Kenma holding out an extra PSP for you. 

- You proceed to play video games together for the rest of the party, the loud music becoming mere background noise. Kenma came well prepared as if he had hidden during parties like this before, he supplied all the goods which he brought along with a questionable backpack. He’s pulling out drinks and snacks upon your demand and you wonder just how much stuff he’s got in there. Neither of you moved for at least two hours, and you had the best time of your life just playing games alongside your boyfriend.

- Kuroo would come banging on all the doors, yelling for the both of you to come out and socialize. So, you do the most appropriate thing you could have in that situation. You snuck out the window and ditched that hellhole. 

 YAKU

- He’s not a very big party-goer, but he will want to socialize with his friends and greet his other acquaintances. He’s very aware of your anxiety, however, and makes sure to only talk to people that you either like and are associated with yourself. Which isn’t a lot of people, but he doesn’t even notice it, as long as you’re not tensing under his am then he’s glad. 

- If anybody else comes up to you that you don’t know and tries conversing, Yaku will literally speak for you. He’ll introduce you, (not forgetting to mention that you’re his girlfriend) and answer any other questions the person may have. They start getting irritated and begin asking the most absurd questions that really only you should know but Yaku has a reply for EVERYTHING and his polite smile never once falters at the signs of their irritation. He makes it so that you don’t have to talk unless you really want to, otherwise, enjoy the show that he stirs up.

- After doing his greetings, he finds a secluded spot where both of you can spend the rest of the party. This time is spent mainly eating almost all the snacks provided and playing board games which you found in the host’s living room. You’re both peacefully playing Monopoly while there’s a full-on brawl in the background that you’re either not aware of or care about. Some rando came up to the both of you and asked if they could join in while Yaku secretly hid away all the starting board pieces and told them there was only enough for the two of you. He doesn’t feel bad for lying and neither do you.

- When things start becoming too loud (like the brawl from before), Yaku’s eyes will constantly snap over to you, making sure you’re not feeling overwhelmed by the drunken imbeciles. Once he notices a single sign of worry or unease, he suggests the both of you get the hell out of there and go on a food date.

 NISHINOYA

- This may hurt but he’s gonna get so excited upon arriving that he really just deserts your ass upon seeing Tanaka waving over in the distance. You stand there looking all dejected with your head down until you feel someone tug at your wrist and look up to see a lively Nishinoya offering you an apologetic smile before pulling you along with him. 

- This boy is the life of the party, he wants to go around greeting everyone, pulling pranks, making new friends all while keeping you under his watchful gaze. There’s not much need to feel uncomfortable as he drags you along on his adventures, because he’s so loud and energetic that all the focus is on him and nobody even bothers you during the party. Nishinoya manages to make you laugh with the small stunts that he pulls, and you start feeling good with all the laughter and lack of attention on you.

- However, even Nishinoya realizes you have boundaries when it comes to your anxiety. Once things start getting too loud and the people around you are generally becoming a bit more rough and stupid due to the intoxication, your pure angel boy is there taking you someplace safe and quiet. A few people look for him because he is quite entertaining and sought after, but he waves them off and tells them he’s tired. You know he isn’t, when is he ever? He’s doing it because he doesn’t want you to stress yourself out for his sake. He apologizes if he made you uncomfortable and you tell him he could never do such a thing, it was just the noise and staggering bodies bumping into your own which began freaking you out.

- He still feels guilty, though. So, to make up for it, he raids the kitchen belonging to the host which he had forgotten and gathers up some goods. Everyone’s questioning where the hell he got the ice cream from because there’s nothing like that laid out and he ignores them casually as he walks past. You don’t ask where he got the snacks from, despite knowing he would every shamelessly tell you he took them without permission. Nishinoya doesn’t care, the consequences of taking another man’s ice cream means nothing to him if it makes you happy.

KUNIMI

- He wouldn’t even show up to the party, so there’s really no problem there. He isn’t an extremely social person, and he completely understands why you get so anxious in social situations. If he was really forced, like a gun held up against his head, he would begrudgingly go but not even make the effort to go around and greet the people he knows. Even you, who isn’t very keen on the idea of talking to people, look over at him in concern like… aren’t you gonna go greet your friends? look…someone is waving at you right now. He’d be so uninterested in the whole ordeal.

- If anybody you don’t know dares try to initiate a conversation with you, you will immediately be blocked from their sight as Kunimi stands up to confront them with cold, threatening eyes. They back down instantly and walk away like a dog with their tail between their legs. You’re appreciative but you assure him that he doesn’t have to sacrifice his own reputation for your sake, and he replies saying he has no care for a reputation among these fools.

- You don’t stay long at all, Kunimi checks his watch seemingly every second and once half an hour has passed he stands up and reaches a hand out for you to grab. You’re a bit confused, but understand quickly that he hates this sort of thing just as much as you do, so the both of you slip out without anyone noticing. The small-time that you did spend there included Kunimi shielding you from everyone with his broader body as you sat in the corner, the both of you conversing about what you would do after you left (you being unaware that it would happen so soon). There was an instance where you were getting thirsty, Kunimi didn’t want to leave you alone with the surrounding goons so he interlaced your fingers with his own and lead you through the crowd. You honestly felt so protected, he would tug you closer when walking past some questionable characters and avoid any conflicts for both of your sakes. He got you your drink and your body was covered by his own the whole time that his friends standing nearby were confused to see him pass a can of soda behind his back. They thought they had too much to drink.

- Kunimi is so much at ease upon leaving, you both are. You can see his demeanour change, with his facial features softening and his eyes narrowing in affection at everything you do. Both of you end up getting food and spending the rest of your time at either’s house, enjoying the peace that came with the lack of people around.

[edyacouky]

Journey to the Past (5/10)

What can I say except : I am sorry It's been month since I have the motivation to write again and I could find a way to write this chapter that make me happy. Until now ! Hope you will like it. Have a nice day.

                                                       ~*~

Since Bruce lost his son during this terrible attack three years ago, nothing in his life was the same.

How can it be?

Jason wasn’t there anymore at the breakfast. His favorite spot in the library is empty; no one dare sit on it since the King’s burst of anger once . His room became also a mausoleum. At first, each day some claimant came to him to demand the place of his son. Then once in a week. Now once in a few months.

But each time a part of him is destroyed when an investigation proves that they were just some liar, some from the poor, some were distant cousin of member of his own Council.

He punishes every person that act this way by malice, make sure the one they act because of some psychological trouble were taking care of.

After he lost Jason, he also had to deal with the horrible rumor about his older son, Dick. Everybody seems to give some credit to the rumor that Dick pays Joker to attack. And every time, he taken his defense people thinks that he is a stupid naive or that he is guilty too.

Not even six month later, the couple Drake, goods friends of him, dies too roughly. Their son, Tim Drake is also godson of Bruce, came to live in the Palace. Since the fortune of the Drake rival with the Royals Family’s, the Council was even shocked that the King “takes so long” to demand to adopt him. They know very well that now the Drake fortune belong to the Royal Family, to the “country” and they will do all they can so they can use this fortune like they want.

And if only it was the only thing that the Council waste.

Before the attack, Selina finally agree to marry Bruce. The Council gives their agreement because they realize that it was the only way to gain an heir that is biologically related to their King.

They have decided to hide it to Jason. He was so impatient about the diplomat mission, and they knew that Jason would have say in every way possible “I told you so”.

But after the attack, they were a mess and can’t imagine marry without Jason and his cocky grin with them, so they wanted to cancel it.

The Council refuses to accept that, they do make sure that everyone knew that this wedding was planned; they lie telling that everything was already paid; they spread rumor about Selina’s pregnancy. At the end, if they cancel or postpone the wedding th e n Selina’s carreer would be over and Bruce will lose many support.

So the wedding happened. But nobody of the Royal Family was happy, no one succeed catch a photo where they smile. Some of the Council suddenly fears that maybe it would bring bad luck. It was a relief for them when two years later; the little Princess Helena was born in good health.

But the Royal Family became even bigger when Bruce meet some kids at one of the Centers Jason helped to created.

Stephanie Brown, Harper and Cullen Row, and Duke Thomas.

Because of their origin, the Council didn’t even want them as pupil but they can only oppose to the adoption.

Despite everything that can help him to find peace and happiness, Bruce couldn’t forget his son, Jason. Neither he can forget his expression when he forces Jason to leave him, when they finally found each other in the mob, when he was getting shot and when Joker catches him.

These memories haunted him every hour of every day.

He found a way to endure it with alcohol. It was the only way he found to, not forget but, soothe the memories.

It would have become out of control if Alfred, Selina and Dick weren’t here. But he, that never loved to drink, still can’t help himself some time to time.

Another thing that changes is, since the King Wayne welcome Cassandra Cain in his family, first as a pupil then as a daughter, he becomes a regular of the Great Ballet.

Every time they do a spectacle, the Royal family attends it for the delight of Cassandra.

She wasn’t educated to understand the words and to express herself with them either. She was supposed to be a weapon. She learns to read the body of everyone around her to anticipate their action. So watch a story only tell by music and movement is perfect enjoyment for her.

She stills as many difficulties with her education as heir and learning of the protocol.

In fact if she doesn’t look exactly like the kind of young girl that a monarch of a neighboring country love despite the difference of forty years old, the Council would have refuse her adoption like they did for her others siblings.

Bruce is aware of their reason and even if he is against it, he doesn’t tell them ou t loud. For the moment this deviant monarch doesn’t dare make any proposition so it is easy to ignore Council plan.

Tonight, being in the show with his wife and children, it’s easy to forget the Council and his worries.

To ignore other’s worries.

                                                         ~*~

Roy and Jay still don’t really understand why Duchess Kate accept to arrange a meeting without asking them too much question.

No matter what Dinah wrote it must have been very persuasive.

Duchess Kate has decided to make the meeting the nigh of their arrival to Gotham.

At first, they were expecting to meet King Wayne before the show or be seated near him, but Duchess Kate contradicted them. They are seated in another lodge, hidden from King Wayne’s eyes, and she will bring Jay to him during the interval.

Everything was going too fast since they meet her. Jay can’t believe he will finally bring Damian to his father, that they may gain ally to rejoin Talia against Ra’s.

He should be happy, relieved, but the true will be known and he hasn’t any second to spoke with Roy alone. He is so anxious imagining all the way he may react when he will learn that Jay lie to him since the beginning and put his children in a danger bigger than he though.

He wants to come clean to him but doesn’t want to compromise Damian’s meeting with his father, neither his safety in case one of Ra’s spies is near them.

All this situation put his nerves in though test.

One of his legs keeps shaking since he is sitting and he destroys the poor program piece by piece.

At a moment, Roy takes his hand gently and smiles at him lovingly.

“Everything will be alright.” He reassures him

Jay takes a deep breath and look at Roy. Despite wanting to scam a Royal Family, this man is caring and kind and Jay doesn’t want to hurt him.

He has to come clean now, after it would be too late.

It may be too late now.

“I wasn’t honest with you. He whisper so Kate doesn’t hear them

-What do you mean?” Roy asks worried

Is that some kind of trap? A way to catch people wanting to scam the Royal Family. It’s the first thought of Roy but h e can’t believe that. It’s so absurd.

Maybe Jay lies about his feeling for him because he was worried that Roy may abandon him.

Roy feels bad to making Jay feel he have to lie to him about that. No means no. Roy can understand and accept that.

Of course the rejection will hurt but he can deal with that.

Roy prepare himself to assure Jay that he will accept only be a friend, if Jay agree to let him be.

But he doesn’t expect the next sentence of Jay.

“I lie about who I am. Jay say, now all his body is shaking and his headaches don’t help him

-I don’t understand.

-I …”

Jay swallow his saliva, licks his lips and take a deep breath.

And he explains everything.

He is heart broken when Roy let go his hand and when horror is see in his eyes when he realize to whom Jay and Dami … No! Prince Damian was hidden.

It was one thing for Roy to have to hide and protect his family against some rich family of 'Eth Alth'eban, but it is a completely another thing to hide and protect his family again the King Ra’s Al Ghul. One way or another Roy doesn’t have the choice but beg King Bruce to protect him.

All the affection he feels for Jay and Dami … Prince Damian turns into betray and rancor. How could Jay sacrifice Colin and Lian like that, not telling before the real risk of their adventure?

Before Roy could give to Jay a piece of his mind , the light turn on. It’s already the interval.

“Now it’s the time young man. Duchess Kate says standing up. It’s now or never.”

Jay stands to follow her but Roy catch his hand.

“How could you? He shivers with furry.

-I am so sorry . I promise. Jay whispers frankly. Just … All I did was for Damian. I’m sorry.”

Duchess Kate calls again Jay and this time he takes back his hand and follows her.

Roy wants to argue with him, ask him: “what now?”. Did Jay will tell that he play Roy to lie for the reward. It will doom him and his children.

He wants to run after Jay but then it would let the children alone. So he turns to the only person present that may be as guilty as Jay .

Dami.

Or is he Prince Damian?

                                                        ~*~

During the interval, Bruce isolates himself as his cousin Kate’s early demand.

She was pretty vague about what matter she wants to talk. But Bruce loves his cousin and always glad to see her.

And it gave him the opportunity to serve himself a glass.

He doesn’t look at the door when it opens. No matter what Duchess Kate wants, she won’t beat about the bush.

If she judges him for his glass, she doesn’t say.

“There is someone that has something to tell you. And you should listen him.”

Curiously now, Bruce looks at the unknown figure that approaches him.

“Maybe a spy who have information about one of his neighboring country.” He thinks taking a slip while Kate sit down and invite her guest to do the same.

Bruce stop counting long ago how many claimant come to him, so one more isn’t really a surprise or unusual. But it’s the first time one is brought by a close member family, and he can’t believe that his cousin would be that cruel.

The boy is young, but his Jason was just a boy during the attack.

The same smart green-blue eyes. There is a gleam that Bruce sees in his eyes but no recognition. Jason never looked at him like that.

“I’m listening, boy. What do you have to tell me?”

The same pointy nose still down as this boy doesn’t dare keep his head up.

The same pouty lips that answer to Bruce but says something he never anticipates.

“My companions and I did a long journey from 'Eth Alth'eban.

-Some came from far away from that.” Bruce retorts but his blood freezes in his veins

No news from 'Eth Alth'eban can be good. Not since a long time ago.

“I’m servant of my Princess Talia Al Ghul. I come here, following her order.”

Bruce inhale deeply while glancing at his cousin. But she stays impassible. At this game she can be better than him.

“What did your Mistress want from me?

-A few weeks ago, the men of my King Ra’s Al Ghul attacked the Azraq Palace. They attacked my Princess Talia Al Ghul.

-How is she now?

-I don’t know. I escaped without her and follow her last order since.

-And what is her last order? Bruce asks noting mentally to order to his spies to gain information about Talia’s situation

-To bring your son.”

Bruce could have jump for his seat, taking this young boy in his arms, imploring him to show him an indisputable proof that he is his Lost Son and so they can finally be together again.

“Which is also her son. Jay keeps saying without knowing what trouble perturbed Bruce. Damian Al Ghul. He did all this travel with me, avoiding as much as we could attack from men of Ra’s. And he is impatient to meet you.”

For a moment, Bruce is sure that he didn’t hear well what this man is.

It was clearly not what he was expected to hear tonight or ever day ever.

“For what I know, Bruce says coldly not being amused by this lie, Talia was pregnant only once. A girl stillborn…

-Ten years ago. Jay defends himself. Athanasia Al Ghul, twin sister of Damian. She is buried in Azraq Palace. Look, even if you don’t believe that Damian is related to you. He is to Princess Talia. And if you can accept him as a political exile despite your … tense relationship with my country …

-Did you know?”

This time Bruce doesn’t talk to the boy, he doesn’t even look at him. All his attention is on his cousin.

“Dinah and I had our suspicion when we saw the kid. But I didn’t expect that.

-Dinah is involved?

-She is the one who recommended them to me.” She answers giving him Dinah’s letter

He takes it and start reading it, pacing while doing so.

Jay doesn’t know how he suc c eeds explain calmly everything to the King.

He had such a shock when he saw him.

At first he doesn’t realize why. After all he saw picture of the King. He knew how he look like. Maybe it was seeing him in bones and flesh, Jay says to himself.

Then he realizes that the man in his dream on the boat was the King. Suddenly he remember the man of his dream being killed so violently in front of him.

Even knowing that everything wasn’t real, it doesn’t help the tumult of emotion clashing in his soul.

But he succeed say what he have to say and he is even surprise by their reaction.

Can’t believe they were so sure they were subtle and success to lie to this two ladies; then it seems like Dinah and Duchess Kate knew the real intention of Jay all along. And they accept to help him without hesitate.

It is too good to be true. Jay would love nothing more than to thankfully kiss their hand and promise to always be in debt with them.

But it is too good to be true. There must have so trap somewhere.

Jay tries to read Duchess Kate emotion to know if he had condemned his Prince or if his Princess was right to trust this King, but the way she looks at him is really frightening. She scrutinizes him, maybe waiting for him to make a mistake, maybe he already made a mistake and she wait for his punishment.

His head hurts so much.

He is glad that his Princess isn’t here to see him like that. She taken care of him, she educated him to being Damian’s Shadow for three years and now that he can prove himself, he doesn’t feel up to the scratch.

“Don’t you have anything more to tell me? Bruce finally says to Jay

-Well … If I may dare … Never Prince Damian or I would have come this far without Roy Harper and his children. If … you’re kind enough to accept Prince Damian as political exile, can you take them under your care too?

-Is that really all you have to tell me?” Bruce insist

Jason blushes furiously at what he thinks is an accusation.

“Neither the Prince and I are beggar. We don’t want your money or any title. We may face a difficult situation but my Prince will take back what is his and we will pay our debt.”

Bruce looks at him with a deep sadness but finally whispers:

“Go. Bring me your Prince and your friends.”

Jason nods and stands up, thanking the King and the Duchess before leaving.

And one time more during this meeting, Bruce’s heart is again broken.

The same untamable curly hair with the same tuft in the back as his head is throwing at Bruce’s face when Jay lets to bring back Damian, Roy, Colin and Lian

                                                       ~*~

Despite his anger, once Roy sees fear and anticipation as much as hope, he can’t bring himself to be mad at the kid.

Even if Jay was saying the true and that Dami is really the Prince Damian heir of the Al Ghul, he is still a ten years old boy that will met his father for the first time, days after he may have lost his mother forever.

And the kids hear what Jay told to Roy and now grill Dami … Damian so he have to explains to them the situation.

Colin decides that he should have know, because only a Prince could have such a broom stuck in their ass. Well not fair for Roy but he never consider himself as a prince so he says nothing.

Lian sights with disappointment telling Dami… Damian that he really doesn’t look much as the kind of prince that her books sell to her.

There is a little justice.

He tries to calm his anger, keeping saying to himself that he didn’t tell to Jay who Roy really is after all. And that he suppose, despite their … reciprocate attraction, they aren’t close. They were simply a mean to an end for each other.

He can force himself see the situation as far away as he can, as logical that possible, his heart doesn’t beat like it was before Jay’s revelation.

At a moment, he was dreaming that he and Jay could have something real and beautiful together. But he was just played along and now he is terrified about what could happen to his children.

What if Jay tell the real motivation of Roy to the fudging King of Gotham? What if Roy is imprisoned? What would happen to his children? They won’t be keep together, that’s for sure. They may never found a happy family that love that at least tenth as much as Roy loves them.

Sob are blocked in his throat. He keeps a reassuring smile to them, playing with their hair.

Should he leaves?

Abandon Dami … Prince Damian here. Take his kids away from this place. He takes care of them without any King’s money for three years. He can still do it.

But which doctor will agree treat Lian?

And King Ra’s men must already told him that Roy help Jay to escape him. He has no hope to have his family safe again now.

Roy jumps when he suddenly feels a hand on his shoulder.

Jay is back.

“The King want to meet all of us. Jay tells him then add more insecure, he knows how much you help us.”

So Jay didn’t tell the true, at least not all the true.

Roy start to breath again more easily. Maybe he still have a little luck after all.

He still refuses to acknowledge Jay’s tentative smile. He can’t forgive being play like that in a war against an enemy as dangerous as Ra’s Al Ghul. Now, there is nowhere on this world where they could be safe.

                                                           ~*~

Damian really doesn’t know what he should expect from his meeting with his father.

When he was old enough to realize that he should have a father, his mother answered him that he was dead long ago. So all Damian had his imagination to fill the void.

Then suddenly, his father is safe and sound. He is a king, the King of Gotham. He is the enemy of his family, but also the man his mother send to him for help.

This man that Damian never met had to compete a chimera that Damian created long ago. The father in his head is everything that was missing in his life, and if this father take some characteristic to Jay, Damian will never admit it.

In his heart, in his head, Damian know that he will be disappointed. How can he be different? He really just hope that he won’t be hurt that’s all. He really just hope that this man will help him find his mother.

When they enter in the room where the King and his cousin are, Damian let all the other enter before him even if it’s not really appropriate. He really needs some more minutes.

He heard the deep voice of the King greeting and thanking Roy and his children with some kindness, even if he seems on the edge.

Damian thinks of a million of things he could say to his father. First impression matter.

But when he is finally in front of him.

When he have to deal with deep blue eyes full of surprise and suspicion, Damian couldn’t think even to save his life.

“Father, I imagine you taller.”

Thankfully his voice is neutral.

He could have bear if it has broke with all the emotion he feels right now.

If the man was the father Damian liked to imagine, no doubt Damian would have broke in tears right now and throw himself in their arms. But this man isn’t.

Roy and Jay exchange a look, unsure about the way they should react.

Duchess Kate, with Colin and Lian, laughs with delight.

“I told you, didn’t I? No need of some DNA test with him, he is definitely your and Talia’s spitting image.

-The similarity are truly impressive.” The King admit with a smirk visibly not annoyed by Damian’s remark.

He invites everyone to sit down, he makes Damian sit right next to him and ask them all to explain what happen.

They talk during all the second act. Kate has to leave them to inform the Royal Family that Bruce won’t come back anytime soon.

Hearing about the Royal Family provokes in Damian some uneasy feeling. This people are his family after all, but he can’t help seeing them as stranger, as enemy of his real family. But he needs his father’s support, a man he was learned to hate, so he tries as best as he can to hide the discomfort he had to heard about people he can’t help himself but despise more than anything.

Why his mother decide that this people are the good people to help them is beyond Damian’s comprehension. But his mother is a smart woman that is rarely wrong so he trust her and give her plan a chance.

It won’t be that hard to find another ally if the Wayne prove to be unworthy ally, Damian though without a doubt.

Facing now Bruce is really hard for Roy, especially because of the languish look he keeps sending to Jay. Obviously, he can’t help but hope that Jay is Jason.

Roy can’t remember which justification he choose to exploit the man’s pain. Nothing can explain or justify why Roy decide to reopen the wound of a father. Roy can imagine too well how Bruce must feel. And just for some money, Roy prevent the man to grieve and purposely hurt him with hope.

Maybe Roy deserve some punishment after all.

“Some verification would be made of course. Especially to be sure there is a need for my country to help Princess Talia. The King finally says. In the meantime, you will all be staying at the Summer Castle away from the Council and the press until a decision is made.”

J ay and Damian want to argue that they don’t have the time for that.

But the door violently open cut them.

“Selina wait! Duchess Kate calls in the background. You didn’t let me explain …

-Kate just told me you found your son.” The Queen says to the King

Jay want to cry. This woman was in his dream too. She was the woman that called him …

“Kitten.” She sights coming near him with a palpable eagerness, tears in her eyes as she caress Jay’s cheeks

Jay wants to tell her that she is wrong. But the adoration in her eyes, her joy, it makes Jay cry uncontrollably.

He’s so ashamed of his behavior, never Talia would have make him Shadow of her son if she knew how weak he really is.

Firmly but gently, Bruce takes his wife in his arms. He is shaken with emotion too but forces himself to stay imperturbable.

“Selina, you know that I had a romantic relationship with Talia Al Ghul.” He says

She nods with confusion clear in her eyes.

What does it have to do with this miracle?

“This is her son. Bruce adds showing her Damian. This is my son, Damian.”

If at first, Selina wasn’t really listening, wanting only looking at her Kitten, the comprehension darken her face.

“Oh.”

There is a long silence when Kate forces Jay to go out so he can calm down under her supervision.

Suddenly, Selina forces a laugh to leave her throat.

“How can I be so stupid? She jokes and then really look at Damian. He is your spitting image. I should have know right away. What kind of first impression did I make?

-Selina …”

Selina doesn’t let Bruce pamper her more. She leaves his arms and asks where Talia is, saying she doesn’t remember they were supposed to meet with the Al Ghul anytime soon.

Bruce keeping his voice low explain everything to Selina.

“Oh, Dear! You hate surprise so much. But you have to admit with one is a good one. So we will go to the Summer Castle. I have to make some preparation but I’m sure we can all be here in a few days.

-You don’t have to …

-What are you telling me here? Don’t you think that I and the kids don’t want to know more about Damian? And we have to properly congratulate Prince Harper, his children and the poor boy I didn’t ask his name, for bring him to us. Alfred will agree with me.

-I suppose.

-Good. I will see you in a few days, I suppose you will leave immediately with them.

-Indeed.

-Well since we agree. I will leave you and inform the children.”

As sudden as she appears she leaves.

She ignores the young boy that dry his tears. She can’t acknowledge him now, even if she knows she must apologies.

Something in his eyes make her believe that …

But who care about that?

She need to inform the family not only of Damian but also prepare himself seeing someone looking exactly like their Jason.

Oh! But how are we suppose to be prepare to something as painful as that?

Away of the dark though of Selina, Damian looks at Roy with perplexity.

“Wait. Does she just call you Prince Harper?”