#because I’ll be damned if I’m with a person who can’t cook a simple meal or run a washing machine | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

plazmafields · 4 years ago

Text

Cullrian Mulan AU

Word Count: 27,573

Summery: After escaping the Venatori and his family in Tevinter, Dorian finds refuge with a kindly older woman on a farm in Ferelden. When the Inquisition comes knocking looking for volunteers, Dorian can't help but overhear that they are looking to defeat the Venatori once and for all. He could join, but he can't have them thinking he might be a Venatori himself, especially not the Commander.

Forward: Holy jesus mercy, this literally took me years to get to. Between wanting to build out the universe to make it all fit together, then getting some serious writer's block (because nothing I love can come easy), then actually writing the damn thing! This has been a journey, and I really hope you all enjoy. I know it's a pain to read long fics on tumblr, so just let me know if you'd prefer it on AO3 or something. All my love, please enjoy my longest fic ever!!

__________

Just as the sun began to rise over the hills surrounding the farm, songbirds began to chirp, stirring Dorian from his sleep. Though he hated the insistent noise, he had to admit it was a softer wakeup call than Halward pushing ten tired slaves into his room to make him “presentable” before another noble’s daughter arrived. When Dorian had rejected the woman betrothed to him since birth, his mother offered that perhaps they should find an equally suitable candidate that Dorian could see himself getting along with. Poor mother, just trying to help; but she would never understand the true reason for Dorian’s rejection. Or perhaps they knew, and just couldn’t bear to face it as truth.

It took Dorian a moment to fully wake before he was hurriedly getting dressed and cleaned up, hoping to make it downstairs in time to make breakfast. As he descended the stairs, however, the scent of eggs and baking bread filled his nose. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. While it smelled wonderful, he still felt a bit guilty for making his kind host cook for them both.

At the bottom of the stairs, he smiled and gently bowed his head at the middle aged woman at the stove. “Good morning, Miss Ella,” he said as he entered the kitchen just off the stairwell.

“Good morning, dear. How do you like your eggs?” The woman turned to greet him with two plates of food in hand, each set prepared differently.

Dorian didn’t look at the meal before responding, “I’ll take whichever you don’t prefer.”

The older woman frowned, distinctly upset with the answer. “Ser Dorian, I insist you choose. You’re my guest, after all. I want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

The two stood both with expectant stares for a short while until Dorian sighed, taking one of the plates. “And I want to make sure I’m as nonintrusive as possible.” He turned quickly, taking a seat at the quaint kitchen table.

The woman smiled gently as she joined him. “I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: you are not intruding. I took you in, and that’s the end of it. You should feel as though we share this house, just as we share this food and the land where it grows.”

Dorian couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle as he began to eat. “Thank you, Miss Ella. You’ve been far too kind to an undeserving stranger.”

Miss Ella scoffed as she swatted at Dorian’s arm with her handkerchief, “Oh, don’t say such nonsense! Everyone is deserving of kindness, especially when they show such courtesy in return.”

Dorian said a quiet thank you as he continued to eat, trying to avoid another kind hearted argument with the woman. They stayed silent for a long moment until the woman shook her head and laughed.

“The only doubt I have about you is where you’re from. Not that I mind your secrecy; I understand the need. I only wish I knew so I could know who to thank for your wonderful manners.” She teased, wholeheartedly.

Dorian smiled despite the remembrance of home life, and answered gently, “I hardly think my parents had much to do with my manners. They’re not the kindest of people, unless they’re trying to impress someone.” His smile slipped slightly, enough for Miss Ella to notice.

“I’m sorry, dear,” she frowned and reached across the table, patting the back of Dorian’s hand, “I didn’t mean to strike a nerve. I wasn’t meaning to imply life was perfect, only that you seem acclimated to the finery in life. However, I know that comes with its own stresses and consequences.”

“You’re certainly right about that,” Dorian sighed, finishing the food on his plate.

As he stood, he took Miss Ella's empty plate as well, taking the dishes and cutlery to the wash basin to clean. As Dorian began scrubbing away, there came a rather harsh knock at the door. The two glanced curiously at one another before Miss Ella went to answer.

Dorian slowly set the dishes in the water, listening closely to who was at the door, waiting to see if it was a voice he recognized, come to take him back to Tevinter.

Instead, he heard a voice clearly announce: “Hello, serah, we’re here on behalf of the Inquisition. We’re requesting that every household contribute at least one able bodied person, or sign for a draft, if necessary.”

“Oh yes, the Inquisition. You’re the ones who patched up the sky, yes? While I would love to be of service, I’m afraid I am unable to enlist—”

“How old are you, ma’am?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Dorian heard the soldier clear his throat. “I asked your age, ma’am.”

Miss Ella, seemingly a bit taken aback by the direct nature of the question, gingerly answered, “Well, I’ll be turning fifty at the end of next month…”

The sound of confirmation and flipping paper piqued Dorian’s curiosity, as he slowly peeked into the foyer to watch the interaction.

The soldiers all nodded, one pulling out a form. “You’re within the age range to sign for the draft. If you would please—”

“I’m sorry?” Miss Ella stared in awe at the men before her. “I am the sole owner of this farm; all the land you see within several acres is my land! I cannot simply leave my property; who would be here to care for the animals? I would be more than willing to donate crops to the cause, but I am not going to leave my animals and harvest to suffer.”

Dorian watched on, ready to stand up for his gracious host, when the soldier tucked the form back into his satchel. “Ma’am, I understand your concerns, but I’m afraid, as valid as they may be, they cannot stand in the way of the fact that we need soldiers. As the Venatori threat strengthens—”

“I would be willing to volunteer,” Dorian stepped into view of the doorway, “on behalf of the household.”

Miss Ella turned with surprise, giving Dorian a worried look. He simply smiled and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Very good, Ser. And thank you.” The soldier pulled out a list of volunteers’ names and began to assign Dorian an ID. “What is your relation to this woman?”

“My son.” Miss Ella spoke up, “Dorian Rider.”

Dorian gave a gentle, thankful look, trying not to make it too obvious to the soldiers.

“I assume, then, you were born in Ferelden?” The soldier studied Dorian’s dark complexion suspiciously.

“Orlais,” Dorian lied, “but I’ve lived here much of my life…”

The soldier seemed to find that more believable as he nodded, noting the answer on the form.

“And what is your role in the household? Just a simple description of what you do around the house will suffice.” The soldier asked, poised to write.

“I help maintain the farm.”

The soldier nodded, “Very good. And do you have any experience with fighting or combat?”

“Spell—” Dorian quickly closed his mouth, remembering mages were not supposed to live or practice magic outside of the Circles in Ferelden. He worriedly glanced at Miss Ella, before he noticed the soldier give him a friendly grin.

“Don’t worry,” The soldier said, lowering his writing board, “the Inquisition is not here to discriminate. We take anyone willing to risk their lives for the cause.” His eyes went soft, as he seemed to sympathize with Dorian. “I was a thief in Denerim before I joined. I’m not one to judge. Thank you for volunteering, Ser. Serah.”

The soldiers each gave a respectful bow before starting off to the next house. The one with the writing board called over his shoulder, “We’ll knock again when we’re ready to head off to Skyhold. Please be ready. You need only to bring your personal effects; we will have weapons and armor for you there.”

Miss Ella quickly closed the door and grabbed Dorian by the shoulders. “What are you doing? I thought you were hiding out! This is a sure way to bring attention to yourself, boy!”

Though she shook him lightly, she was not angry as Dorian looked in her eyes. The only thing he saw there was fear and worry. For him; for his safety.

Dorian took her hands in his and smiled reassuringly, “I’ll be ok. I can handle myself in a fight. Besides, what was I supposed to do, let them take you away from your livelihood? That hardly seems right.”

Miss Ella continued to look him in the eye for a time, all the while tears starting to well, before they eventually fell and she wrapped her arms around his waist in a tight hug. “Thank you so much, dear. I just hope they keep you safe from whatever you were running from. Maybe one day you’ll be free of fear, and you can tell me everything.”

__________

Finally at Skyhold, the entire cart full of recruits gazed upon the glory of their new home for the foreseeable future, everyone taken aback by the size of the castle. Once through the gates, Dorian found himself being shuffled through a group of anxious troops, somehow ending up near the front of the crowd. Just as he began to wonder what all the fuss was about, the entire mass fell silent, standing mostly at attention.

A pale skinned man with thick blond hair strode up to the group of recruits, his presence alone demanding full attention. As he scanned the crowd, seemingly impressed with the number of volunteers, he momentarily locked eyes with Dorian.

The mage immediately froze, holding his breath as the blond’s eyes studied him. It seemed like minutes before their eyes met again, the blond saying kindly, “Welcome to the Inquisition.”

Dorian didn’t realize the blond was addressing the whole group, and not just him, until the entire mass said in unison, “Ser, yes, Ser.”

Dorian jumped at the roar, averting his gaze to his feet. The rest of the blond’s speech went by as a mumble, Dorian only picking out a few things. “I am your commander,” “thank you for your service,” “we are all fighting for the same cause,” etcetera.

“Those of you who are weary from the journey may feel free to retire to the barracks and claim a bunk. Make certain your items are secure and accounted for. As for those anxious to begin your service, please follow my associate Seeker Cassandra; she will give a brief tour of the grounds.” The blond gestured to a broad and powerful woman, who already appeared annoyed. “As she will be assisting me in your training, I expect you all to treat her with the same respect and authoritative recognition as you would me.”

The blond Commander took a final look over the troops before dismissing them to follow Cassandra or head to the beds. But just as Dorian followed after the retiring group, he heard a gentle summons.

“You there, mage.”

Dorian turned to see the Commander watching him with a careful eye. “Dorian, Ser.” He answered.

“Ser Dorian,” The Commander let the name roll on his tongue for a moment before continuing, causing Dorian’s breath to hitch in his throat. “I understand you’re an apostate.”

Dorian let out his held breath in a deep sigh, nearly rolling his eyes. “Yes, I am. Ser. I don’t suppose you’re going to turn me in to your recent allies?” He crossed his arms and lifted a brow, challenging the blond standing several feet from him.

The Commander narrowed his eyes, “I certainly wasn’t planning on it.” He slowly closed the distance between the two of them in several long strides, saying in a low tone, “Unless you’re going to have a problem with my authority, Ser Dorian.”

With the blond so close, Dorian felt his heart speed up. Something about his presence made Dorian feel held in place. Not as if he was trapped, simply that he couldn’t make himself step away.

Dorian scanned his eyes over the Commander’s form, noticing the Chantry insignia on his bracers. Ah, Dorian thought, he plans on taking care of me himself.

“Not unless you’re going to play those little Templar tricks to dispel my magic when I’m simply trying to warm my tea.” Dorian could have sworn he saw the corner of the Commander’s lips curl up at his accurate observation.

“That would just be rude. No, I wanted to inform you that, despite my past, I have very little patience for discrimination.” The Commander's eyes scanned over Dorian's body once more, “If anyone says anything, does anything, or even looks at you in a way that makes you suspect ill intent, do let me know. They’ll be dealt with discreetly.”

Dorian wasn’t sure how to feel; between the Commander’s word choice and his eyes wondering Dorian’s physique, he felt maybe the blond knew his preferences just by looking at him. Did he have to be more worried about that than being an apostate? Though Dorian knew little about the south, he knew even less about their feelings on…sexual endeavors. More specifically, who you ventured those endeavors with.

Dorian hadn’t realized how long he’d been staring at the Commander without answering until the blond tilted his brow up. “That is an order, Ser Dorian.”

He was shaken from his trance by the mention of his name in a soothingly gentle voice; surprising for a man in his militant position. “Yes, Ser.” Dorian responded quickly, eager to have the Commander’s caressing gaze off him.

The blond smiled, seemingly content with the response. “Good. And don’t be afraid to approach me.” He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice even more to an impossibly comforting near-purr, “I don’t bite.” He grinned reassuringly.

Perhaps I’d rather you did, Dorian thought, admiring the Commander’s gait as he strode off, heading for his office.

In the barracks Dorian chose a bed, near to the wall to prop his staff and hang his pack, filled only with a few herbs for mixing potions and a book or two.

Though his sleep was fitful, he woke more or less prepared for training the next morning, those blasted birds even louder in the mountains than Miss Ella's valley farmland. Their loud singing mixed with the shuffle of new troops preparing for training woke Dorian far earlier than he would have liked. But he hurried along, seeing he was one of the last troops to rise, and made it to the training grounds just as the sun rose above the horizon.

He had eyes on him the moment he walked onto the grounds, scared young men and women glaring at him and eyeing the ornament on the end of his staff, watching cautiously as magic flowed through the crystal gem, all originating from Dorian’s fingertips. All the looks, the suspicion, made him feel as though he was not exactly blending in like he had hoped. He scanned his fellow soldiers, finding most were pale. Those with dark skin like his seemed no less acclimated to his presence. Their undertones were all cold blues and greys, making Dorian’s red-brown skin stand out in an unnatural, if stunning, manner against the natives.

As Dorian felt more and more uncomfortable in his own skin for the first time in years, a voice echoed off the fortress walls from behind him.

“You’re late.” Dorian turned to find the Commander stalking toward him, free of his armor and only covered by simple leather trousers. His chest was dusted in scars of all sizes; some reaching from collar bone to hip, one leading Dorian’s eye down a mischievous path to the Commander’s laces.

“Did the bells not wake you? Perhaps I should make that your responsibility; to wake and ring the bells for everyone else to hear? Since they seem not to faze you.”

Dorian scoffed, “I suppose you would like all your men to be late as well, then? If I were in charge of the bells, we’d all be waking half past tea.”

The Commander seemed equally confused and annoyed with Dorian’s flippant nature, seemingly having no respect, no regard for his position.

As he closed the distance in a quick stride, Dorian simply crossing his arms and sighing, almost bored by the interaction, he said lowly, “Fall in line before I make an example out of you.”

Dorian, sifting his words through his head, began carefully evaluating his next move. While he didn’t enjoy being told what to do, and very much enjoyed testing people’s patience, he decided against saying anything at all, taking several steps back and lining up with the other troops.

The Commander relaxed his shoulders, turning slowly to take his place in front of the herd. As he glanced back to face his troops again, and saw Dorian at the front line of their formations, he quickly changed his mind.

“Alright Ser Dorian, since you seem to enjoy being the center of attention, perhaps you would like to help me demonstrate some defensive maneuvers.”

Dorian tensed. While he was proud of his magical knowledge and ability, he knew things the average Ferelden mage most certainly would not. He had to be careful of what spells he used, as not to let on too much or attract attention.

But he relaxed as he saw the Commander reach for an extra sword and shield, gesturing for Dorian to step forward. He stabbed his staff into the ground and sauntered up to take the weapons. As he did, the Commander asked quietly, “You do know which end to hold it by, don’t you?”

Before Dorian could think, he grinned and responded in a flirtatious tone, “I’ve had plenty of experience handling swords, Commander.”

The Commander stared at him blankly as a slight rosy color filled his cheeks, then cleared his throat as he handed the sword off to Dorian.

“How much experience do you have with shield work?” The Commander asked, getting into a proper fighting stance.

Dorian mimicked his movements, obviously less confident with a sword and shield. “Certainly less than with staff blades and staff defense,” he muttered.

The Commander nodded once. “Let us spar—so that I can evaluate what you know—then, we’ll try it again with your staff. All I want you to do is defend.” The troops drew closer, forming a circle like a fighting ring around the two. “Don’t let me into your personal space.”

Dorian wanted to make a suggestive remark about his personal space, but the time was lost as the blond charged at him with speed and an unfair amount of force. Dorian dodged and defended as best he could with what little knowledge he had while the Commander showed no mercy, but ultimately, in only a matter of seconds, the blond had managed to disarm him and enter his space.

They were nearly chest to chest, Dorian breathing somewhat heavily while the Commander hadn’t even broken a sweat.

“Your movements are arrogant,” he announced, loudly for the rest of the troops to hear, “despite having no idea what you are doing, clearly. While half of defense is confidence, not showing your enemy weakness, it is not the whole fight.”

He stepped away from Dorian, acquiring his stance once more. “Again,” the Commander proclaimed, “with your staff this time.”

Dorian smirked as he pulled his staff blade out of the soil, poising himself for a good fight. He knew this was about physical defense, no magic involved, but by the Maker if he wouldn’t fight back.

The Commander once again charged at him, but this time Dorian knew what to do. He twirled his staff, directing the sword’s momentum away and back to the Commander, using his own power against him. Aside from a huff of disapproval, the blond went unfazed, using the off-railed momentum to carry his shield arm forward, bashing Dorian’s staff in an attempt to throw him off balance. But Dorian stabbed his staff blade into the ground, stopping the blond’s shield dead in its tracks. The Commander pressed forward, waiting for Dorian to inevitably lift his staff and take the force.

Rather than lift his staff, Dorian used it as leverage to swing his body around and kick the unsuspecting Commander’s sword from his hand. Unfortunately for Dorian, his opponent was ambidextrous, catching the sword in his left hand and switching the shield to his right. At this point, the Commander was visibly annoyed, putting more force into his blows, testing the mage’s strength. Dorian held his position for as long as he could, motivated by the troops’ shocked mumbling to one another.

Finally, after several minutes, the Commander’s sword came down on the blade of Dorian’s staff, throwing off the momentum and leaving Dorian open for the Commander to once again step into his space.

After this round, however, they were both panting, a sheen of sweat lightly reflecting on the blond’s chest. Dorian kept his eyes up, staring intently into the Commander’s.

“Much better,” He said flatly. “You use your staff as an extension of yourself. You know not only the magical maneuvers, but the physical ones as well. You still need to work on paying more attention to your opponent, and less to your own actions. They should come as second nature, as I’m sure your magic does.” The Commander backed away once again, relaxing his grip on his weapons. “Well done, overall. I’ve worked with and against many mages and, routinely, close combat was their weakness.” He scanned Dorian from head to toe, shrugging slightly. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’m impressed, but…” extending his hand out to Dorian, “I respect your ability.”

A nearly collective gasp came from the audience of troops around them, all surprised at Dorian’s redemption. From problem recruit, to Commander-respected mage. Perhaps Dorian had nothing to worry about after all.

He took the blond’s outstretched hand and shook it lightly, bowing his head with thanks and returned respect.

“Now then,” the Commander signaled for the troops to regroup into previous formation, “While we have mages among our ranks, many of you would not find the maneuvers performed by Ser Dorian particularly useful, unless you plan on fighting nonlethally.” A quiet chuckle simmered through the troops.

“For the majority of your sakes, I will have my associate Cassandra help me with your training. I warn you, she is a stickler for form. And rightfully so, as it could mean your life…”

The rest of training went by with little incident, other than the occasional calling out and embarrassing of inept recruits. And by the end of the session, nearing lunch, everyone was exhausted.

As the mass headed off for the dining hall, dismissed reluctantly by the Lady Seeker, Dorian saw from the corner of his eye the Commander and Seeker talking in hushed voices, glancing occasionally in his direction.

I’ll speak with him, he made out from the Commander’s lip movements. After nodding and donning a linen shirt, Dorian watched from his peripheral vision as the blond closed in on him.

“Ser Dorian,” he placed a light hand on the mage’s shoulder, “Could I speak with you a moment?”

Dorian acted surprised, even going so far as to ask, “Am I in some sort of trouble?”

The Commander chuckled, “Not at all. Performing well in front of your peers in nothing to be punished for. However, on the topic of your performance, I wanted to ask you a few questions.”

Dorian’s breath hitched. Kaffas, they’re getting suspicious, he thought to himself, trying not to appear alarmed.

The Commander led him away from the hungry glob of languid recruits and in the direction of a more private location, beginning to ask several questions along the way.

“So, if you don’t mind my asking, where did you learn to fight with a staff?” he asked nonchalantly, hands clasped behind his back in a relaxed manner.

“I went to a very prestigious academy; one where our days were filled with nothing but magical and alchemical training. More general teachings—reading, writing, arithmetic—were expected to be taught in the household between school hours.” Dorian explained, leaving out any details that could be traced to Tevinter.

The Commander nodded, humming in understanding before asking, “In Orlais? I read in your recruitment form you were born and raised there.”

“Indeed,” Dorian knew quite a bit about Orlais, and spoke a bit of Orlesian, so he supposed he could continue this lie rather well. “I was lucky to be born to a noble family.”

“I’ve never heard of the Rider family.” The Commander stated bluntly, making Dorian’s heart jump a little.

“Well,” he began, spinning a believable story in his head, “we were unfortunately, when I was rather young, stripped of our finances by a business partner who ran off with my parents’ money. The rest appears to be history.”

The Commander narrowed his eyes, taking Dorian up and down once again. “I prefer my history well documented.”

Before Dorian could comment, a runner jogged toward them, handing off a stack of papers.

“Commander! New reports for you, Ser. Spymaster says they’re not urgent, but could be useful.”

The blond sighed and skimmed several of the papers, a lock of frazzled hair falling in front of his face. He rolled his eyes, handing the papers back to the runner, “Useful seems an over statement. Jim, take these to my office and tell Leliana, respectfully, this matter is a waste of my time.”

The runner nervously nodded, jogging off from whence he came. The Commander sighed and pressed his thumb to the bridge of his nose as he thought aloud quietly, “I am not the negotiator, that is Josephine’s job and it should remain her job if we are all to stay sane…”

He dropped his hand after a moment with a deep sigh before turning to Dorian. “I apologize, Ser Dorian, but I’ve work to do before the next bout of training. If you’ll excuse me.”

“Certainly, Commander…?” Dorian waited for a reply.

“Cullen. Always Commander Cullen, of course.”

“Of course,” Dorian agreed. “Until this afternoon, Commander Cullen.” He gave a graceful bow, the Commander simply ducking his head slightly in acknowledgement before they parted ways.

__________

Dorian tossed and turned that night, nerves and nightmares drilling deep into his conscience. He woke with a start, finding his fellow troops all still asleep, gentle blue moonlight shining through the slit of a window. Determined to clear his mind and be able to go back to sleep before training that morning, Dorian set off for the battlements.

After climbing the steps, passing the few troops on night watch, Dorian found a good spot to clear his head, out of the path of patrolling guards. He leaned against the stone wall and hung his head over, propping himself up on his elbows. He sighed, hoping his nerves would leave with his breath and leave him his confident self once again. But the worry continued; worry about being found out, about being dragged back home, about dying a face in the crowd, no one knowing him for what he wanted to stand for. A man against the fear mongering of his homeland, a man against the all-ruling wants of the Imperium, the good Tevinter.

But above all else, he worried about dying before he could prove to himself that he deserved all that recognition.

Just as the feeling of existentialism began to consume him, he heard a sudden voice from behind him, gentle and light. Soft, in a way.

“Shouldn’t you be getting some rest? You trained hard yesterday, you deserve it.”

Dorian jumped and turned to see the person speaking to him. He found the Commander, once again in linens, leaning in the doorway to what Dorian assumed was his office.

“I don’t mean to interrupt your brooding,” Cullen said apologetically, coming to lean against the battlement walls as well. “I heard walking around out here, and the guards don’t patrol this close to my office. I thought maybe there was trouble. Was I correct?”

Dorian smiled gently, looking out over the mountains again, “If I’m deserving of a rest, you are far beyond deserving. Letting recruits wail on you for hours? You must be tired.”

Cullen took a deep breath, letting it out as he spoke, “They don’t know nearly enough to have actually done any damage. I’ve certainly taken worse.”

They stayed silent for a moment before Cullen spoke again, “But you didn’t answer me.”

Dorian looked at him curiously.

“Is there trouble?”

Dorian chuckled, letting out a breathy laugh and ducking his head. “No, I’m just a bit sleepless. It’s nothing new, nothing I can’t cope with.”

Cullen nodded, quiet for a moment, before saying, “With all due respect, Ser Dorian, I don’t believe you.”

Those were not words Dorian needed to hear. They only added to his nervousness over being found out. He wanted to get out of there, quickly. “I suppose I should head off then, back to bed. Don’t want to be late for morning training again.”

“There’s no curfew, you know. Well, the tavern closes an hour after sunset, but there’s no rule saying you can’t wander the grounds.”

Dorian wasn’t sure how to continue, still poised to walk away.

“Would you mind if we talked a moment?” Cullen asked innocently, gesturing to his office.

Dorian reluctantly entered the Commander’s office and took a seat.

“Our ambassador looked into your ‘noble family’, by the way.” Cullen uttered as he closed the door, sauntering over to his desk and pulling Dorian’s recruitment form out to place in front of the mage.

He was fucked, he knew it. They found out who he really was and they were going to assume he was a Venatori spy, interrogate him for information, maybe even kill him.

“Only noble Rider family in Orlais was over two hundred years ago and they died out from inherited illness. So…” Cullen lowered himself into his seat, propping his elbows on the desk and placing his head on his wound hands, “Why did you lie?”

Dorian looked through the papers in front of him; his recruitment form, his payment contract, the information dug up on the Riders, but found nothing about his true identity. Did they not figure out who he really was? Was Cullen keeping the information from him to catch him in another lie? Dorian took a deep breath before testing his luck.

“I was staying with an old friend of mine in the Hinterlands when your recruiters came knocking. My friend manages her land all on her own—it isn’t much, but she’s not as spry as younger folk—and I came to help her. The recruiters were insistent that she ‘volunteer’ or that she sign for a draft. Obviously, she can’t leave her crops and animals to parish, so I offered to go in her place, on behalf of her household.”

Dorian held his breath, waiting for Cullen to react.

The blond took a breath before restating, “Your friend is older and you wanted to make sure she wouldn’t lose her land by being drafted?”

Dorian nodded, still barely breathing.

Cullen pursed his lips and slowly bobbed his head, glancing back down to Dorian’s papers.

Finally, he opened his mouth to speak, “My recruiters were trying to force her to volunteer? Or sign for the draft? That goes against their orders, which are, simply, to spread the word of our cause and take those who volunteer for a draft, if necessary, or to join the ranks.”

Dorian let out his breath, slowly as to not let on how truly relieved he was. Cullen had not only accepted his story, but truly seemed to believe it. Not all of it was a lie, in fact most of it was true, if not laid in truth.

“Let me ask next, did you give us her name when volunteering? Or some other alias?” Cullen raised his brows like a disappointed parent catching their child in a lie.

Dorian knew giving his real name would give him away and possibly get him killed, so he instead continued the lie. “No, my name is Dorian Rider, however I don’t believe there’s any relation to the Orlesian family. As far as I know, my roots are in Antiva. However, I do not know much about my heritage. My family…” He cringed at the little truth he was about to slip in, “My family disowned me for not following their life plans for me. I only know where my parents were born.”

Cullen’s eyes went soft, emotion slipping through his interrogation mask. “I…I am truly sorry. That’s something I’ve been lucky enough to never have experienced. I won’t press the matter.”

Dorian nodded in thanks, his heart finally settling.

“While your intent was in good standing,” Cullen said, running his hands through his natural curls, “I must still report this as misconduct. You could have worse; I’m going rather easy on you for this sort of misdemeanor. I expect I will not regret my decision, Ser Dorian?”

Dorian nodded, just relieved the whole confrontation was over.

“Good, then I believe everything is settled,” Cullen stated, leading Dorian to the door.

As Dorian began to hurry off, Cullen called after him, “And Ser Dorian!”

Dorian turned to listen.

“I said while sparring I would not go so far as to say I was impressed with your performance. It seems I told a bit of a lie myself.”

Cullen gave a knowing look before closing the door to his office.

__________

After several days of following a simple routine—getting up at the arse-crack of dawn, training for the morning, eating lunch, then training until sundown—Dorian began to feel comfortable with his new surroundings. Since his impressive display sparring with the Commander, people had begun to respect him, addressing him politely as he passed, even if Dorian was hardly their acquaintance. He felt good, confident in himself once again, and sure his secret was completely safe.

As he wandered the courtyard, clearing his mind after a lackluster lunch with the other recruits, Dorian noticed an elf with a powerful stance, Dalish markings on his skin, approaching him with purpose in his step.

“Dorian Rider, yes? I’ve heard much about you from your fellow troops; and our Commander himself.”

“Inquisitor!” Dorian suddenly realized, only having seen the man from a distance before now, “It’s an honor. And I’m happy to have good things said about me.” He bowed, low and respectful.

The elf scoffed, “Please, enough with the formalities. I was hoping to speak with you, if I could.” He gestured forward, in the direction of the main hall.

“Of course,” Dorian answered as he followed, only a slight nervousness rising in his chest.

When they arrived in the hall, few people occupying the echoing space, the Inquisitor began to ask, “From all I’ve seen and heard, you have quite a talent for magic and fighting. While all mages are technically apostates now, I understand you were an apostate before all the in-fighting broke out. Is that correct?”

Dorian nodded, thinking he knew where this was going. “I was indeed. While I won’t claim to be better than a Circle mage, I do believe I had the opportunity to learn many magic forms the Chantry might frown on. Excluding blood magic, of course. A disgusting use of power.” Dorian shuddered slightly, remembering its uses in Tevinter politics.

“Absolutely. You seem an upstanding man, one who would not abuse the privilege of living outside the Circle.” The Inquisitor sauntered slowly toward a door at the side of the hall, pushing it open and beckoning Dorian through. Dorian obliged, waiting in the short corridor before holding the second door open for the elf.

“Among my people blood magic is considered savage and unnatural, as many others feel, Circle mage or no. While I believe the Circle has a place, I do not believe it is to control or constrict mages, but to teach them and help them learn to control themselves and their own power. From what Commander Cullen has told me about Kirkwall, I think the Circle has driven more mages to consider dark magicks as a means to escape. Horrifying things they may never have even conceived of if given more freedom.”

The elf seemed oddly adamant for a non-mage, making Dorian slightly suspicious as to where the conversation was headed. But as the Inquisitor led them to a massive room with a massive map table, Dorian felt there would be no trouble today.

Several men stood behind the map table, some Dorian recognized as the Inquisitor’s associates, and others he’d seen around Skyhold with no context as to who they were.

“I’d like to introduce you to some of my most trusted members and friends of the Inquisition.” The elf gestured forward with a sweeping motion, triggering everyone to bow their heads and smile.

“Firstly, Solas, who has been with us from the beginning, helping me cope with the Anchor and studying its power.”

The tall slender elf smiled softly, “It is a pleasure, Ser Dorian.”

“Secondly—of course you know him—our Commander, Cullen, leader of our forces, ex-Templar, currently slowly dying from lyrium withdrawal he never told me about.” The Inquisitor eyed him angrily as the Commander gave a sheepish smile, muttering some sort of apology.

“And of course, the roguish duo of Varric and his little shadow Cole.”

The Dwarf waved as he continued to tune up his crossbow, saying casually, “Good to meet you, pretty boy.”

The young man behind him, on the other hand, looked Dorian curiously in the eyes before uttering, “You’re different inside your head: lacking, loathing, lonely; soft words never enough, but harsh words too harsh to heal.”

Dorian gave the Inquisitor a side glance, eyes wide with surprise. “Um, yeah. He does…that.” The Inquisitor apologized.

Dorian nodded tentatively to each of them before saying quietly to the Inquisitor, “While it’s lovely to meet everyone, I’m not quite sure I understand what this is about.”

The elf chuckled as he approached the war table and walked around to join his colleagues on the other side. “I, Eridan Levellan, would like to personally induct you into my inner circle, to join me and my allies—and closest friends—in the monumental task of keeping the Inquisition afloat and keeping our allies, and prospective allies, satisfied and compliant.”

Dorian’s jaw fell open in shock, meaning to say something, but at a loss for words.

The Inquisitor laughed again, “Allow me to explain my reasoning: Cullen and Cassandra told me about your skill with fighting and magic after your first display, and have kept me up to date on your progress and ability as it’s been relieved to us through your training. While I am incredibly glad to have you among our forces, I think your skill could be better put to use in the field, when it’s just me and a small group out and about.”

He pulled Cole and Varric into his side, arms around their shoulders and a hand on Solas’s arm as he stated, “While I have other members in my inner circle, these three are the ones who most often join me on my personal missions. Providing immediate aid, closing rifts, dealing with people’s weird family problems in exchange for supplies and alliance—we see it all, and it’s all dangerous. I think I could use someone with your talent out with me, watching my back!”

The short, and surprisingly stocky elf seemed incredibly excited about the concept, raising his eyebrows to question Dorian, imploring him to accept the offer.

When Dorian hesitated, Solas spoke up, voice soft and reassuring, “If I am to have an opinion in the matter, I would be delighted to work with another mage interested in the magicks not taught within any Circle. As an apostate myself, I chose to study spirits and ancient magicks, finding lost pieces of history in the fade as I dreamt. Many mages from the Circle believe this means I have made pacts with demons, and explaining my innocent intentions becomes tiresome. I, for one, would welcome the addition of a like minded apostate into our ranks.”

“The only apostate I ever met escaped from the Circle and it’s all he ever talked about. ‘Templars this, rebellion that.’ Had an insane spirit living in him, too. I’d like to spend time with less crazy mages,” Varric chimed in.

“You think about acceptance, but have never come to expect it. I’ve seen the dangers, lived with them. If that’s acceptance, I would have to change for it. Would I be myself after that?...” Cole was suddenly next to him, despite being under the Inquisitor’s arm only a second ago.

“Sweet Andra—! Can you not do that?” Dorian exclaimed, almost jumping away.

“Don’t mind him. He’s some kind of ‘good’ spirit. He doesn’t really understand boundaries.” The Inquisitor said, coming around the war table to pull Cole away by the wrist.

Cullen’s voice, the softest of everyone’s, gained Dorian’s attention immediately, “As the one who recommended this to begin with, I of course think you should accept. You have a wonderful talent that I can’t use among my troops. It seems a pity to waste it under my command.” He gave an encouraging smile, making Dorian’s mind up instantly.

“Inquisitor, it would be an honor to be part of your inner circle. I accept.”

The Inquisitor practically cheered, ushering everyone out so he could explain what would be expected of Dorian. Dorian listened intently, making sure to joke with the elf to gain his trust and form a feeling of comradery.

After stepping out of the war room, Dorian found Cullen waiting for him, leaning against the ambassador’s empty desk, standing upright when Dorian entered the room.

“I’m happy to hear you’ll be traveling with the Inquisitor from now on. As I said before, I truly think your skills will be better suited in the field.” Cullen extended his hand to offer congratulations.

Dorian took it in a confident grasp, giving a single solid shake. “I appreciate the referral. I’m certain it will surprise you to hear, but not many people appreciate my efforts.”

Cullen chuckled, “I can certainly relate; there have been times in my life where I felt the same. Looking back…” the Commander trailed off slightly, “Well, I’m not so certain anymore that my efforts deserved to be appreciated.”

“I assume you mean your time as a Templar?”

The blond sighed, rubbing nervously at the back of his neck, “Yes. I followed faithfully, but I realize now I was not following the right path.”

Dorian smiled, understanding completely, “Believe me, Commander, I know the feeling.”

They were both quiet for a moment before Cullen asked, shyly, “Would you mind if I asked…?”

“My family. What my family had planned for me, for the rest of my life. I followed as faithfully as I could until…” Dorian looked at his feet, eyes full of pain, trying to avoid Cullen noticing. “Until I was older and understood what they expected of me. After I dared to defy them one too many times…”

Dorian stopped. He couldn’t say anymore. Yes, it might give him away, but that wasn’t why he couldn’t speak. He knew, he remembered what his father was willing to do to change his preferences, and it hurt too much to say out loud. The man he thought had his best interests at heart turned out to only care about himself. Saying it out loud was like admitting a truth Dorian didn’t want to accept.

Cullen tried to look him in the eyes, touching his hand ever so gently to gain his attention. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s alright, I’m learning to accept it. It just…isn’t fun to talk about.” Dorian gave a pained smile.

Cullen sighed, dropping his hand from Dorian’s in favor of rubbing at his neck again, “I know. One’s past shapes who they are and who they become. Sometimes it’s difficult to accept who you were…”

Dorian saw the familiarity in Cullen’s gaze—distant and unsure—and heard the regret in his tone, but decided not to push the matter.

“Or, uh, who your parents were, I mean. I-I’m sure you’ve always been this wonderful. A wonderful person, that is! Good, uh, good moral standing, and all that.” Cullen’s face was very quickly getting red as he tried to avoid eye contact and stutter through his explanation.

Dorian chuckled, taking pity on the blond. “I understood what you meant, Commander, no worries.”

“Cullen.”

“Pardon?”

The Commander looked up suddenly, looking directly into Dorian’s eyes. He hadn’t noticed before that they were nearly gold. “Call me Cullen. You’re no longer under my command, so please: just Cullen.” He smiled so genuinely that Dorian almost forgot to respond.

“Oh, yes, well…” he laughed a little more to fill the silence as he thought. “I suppose I like the title. It suits you.”

Cullen smiled sheepishly, the blush coming back, less strong this time. “As you wish, Ser Dorian.”

Dorian rolled his eyes, shifting his weight to a more casual stance, finally feeling comfortable, “Now you’re just teasing me.”

Cullen poorly faked a look of offence, “Tease? Never!”

“Mm, you should work on your poker face, Commander.” Dorian couldn’t help but smile a bit.

Cullen laughed with him before the two fell silent again, neither wanting to leave, but neither knowing what to say.

“I…I wanted to ask a while ago, but I didn’t want the other recruits to think I was giving you special treatment: would you care to continue sparring when neither of us is busy? As odd as it may sound, I enjoyed the challenge.” Cullen seemed to be looking anywhere but ahead, avoiding Dorian’s eyes.

Dorian grinned, also avoiding eye contact, feeling like a childish school boy dodging around outright flirting with one another. “I would like that, actually.”

The two agreed on a time and place, and parted ways for the rest of the day. Dorian wandered a while until he saw the Inquisitor again, casually asking about continuing to sleep in the barracks.

“Oh! We can find you more private quarters if you like. I certainly wouldn’t want to live with a bunch of other people if I didn’t have to. Talk to Josephine, our Ambassador; she’ll find an open room for you.”

And so Dorian did, and by the end of the day, he had moved his belongings to a small—but comfortable—room with a view of the tavern and gardens. Right off the side of the main hall, and up a few flights of stairs, Dorian’s door opened to a balcony where he could see everything. While he knew these rooms were meant for visiting guests, and it may not be a permanent living situation, he had to admit it felt good to have his own space again. He did what had to be done to survive—slept in inns, travelers’ camps, worked odd jobs before finding Miss Ella’s farm— but it certainly wasn’t the lifestyle he was used to.

But that lifestyle was far out of reach now. As he sat on the edge of his new bed, mindlessly sorting his collection of magical trinkets, he wondered if life would have been better if he went along with his family’s plan to begin with. Marry the girl, have another mage son, continue living a lie for the rest of his life. He often told himself it would have been easier, but that wasn’t true. How could it be easy to deny your true self for your entire life? How could it be easy to force yourself to have sex with someone you could never be attracted to until you finally had a child?

How could it be easier than leaving everything you’ve ever known behind? That was difficult enough on its own.

“I don’t know;” he thought aloud, “how could it be harder?”

“Harder?”

Dorian jumped, conjuring a small flame in his palm on instinct, letting it fizzle as he saw the Commander in the doorway, leaning casually on the doorframe.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Cullen said, extending his hand out as he carefully approached, “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I just thought I would come see how you were adjusting. All this, it must be a bit of a transition.”

Dorian’s palm quickly cooled as he let out a long breath, slowly calming down from the scare. “It certainly is. I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but it seems so sudden. Too sudden.”

Cullen chuckled, “I’d say you’ve earned it. But of course I would, I made the suggestion. How do you feel about it all?” he cocked his head on a slight angle, like a curious dog.

Dorian gestured for the Commander to sit next to him, the blond taking a tentative seat. “It’s odd. Coming here the way I did. Knowing what I came from—money, power, having to exceed expectations if you wanted to get anywhere in life…it was so stressful, and running away from it all was so stressful. And now…”

Dorian turned his head to see Cullen’s innocent golden eyes filled with understanding, knowing just as well what it was like to run from the only life you’d ever known. He found himself entranced, forgetting everything as he lost himself in wisdom-filled, pained eyes that reminded him of his own, a tired glaze darkening the once bright shine of hope they held years ago.

“And now?” Cullen repeated, hardly voicing the words.

The moment felt so intimate; the bed was somewhat small, so they were seated close, leaning toward each other. Cullen’s hand was pressed to the bed to support him as he leaned, placed right behind Dorian. It almost felt like they were embraced without touching each other. He felt comfortable, so comfortable he couldn’t even bring himself to question what was happening. So he simply let the moment linger. It didn’t feel awkward, it didn’t feel drawn out. It just felt…comfortable.

It seemed like an eternity before Cullen’s leg gently bumped his, the blond letting the tips of his fingers rest on Dorian’s thigh. He wasn’t sure what the intent of the action was, but it only made Dorian lose himself more. At first he was just lost in the ex-Templar’s eyes. Now he could see the entirety of him, inside and out. And after scanning over his body, Dorian’s eyes locked on to the blond’s lips. The room froze, time froze. Dorian saw Cullen’s adam’s apple bob as he swallowed harshly, obviously wanting more than just Dorian’s eyes on his lips.

Dorian let himself move closer, just a bit, and Cullen did the same.

“And now,” Dorian’s voice was somewhere below a whisper, “things almost feel easy.”

“They could be,” Cullen’s voice was even, giving nothing away. Dorian wished there was some sort of hoarseness, wobbliness, something in his voice that made it clear what was happening here.

But Dorian wasn’t sure. He needed to be certain before he outed himself here. In Ferelden, in the Inquisition, in this moment with Cullen. He needed to be certain.

So he backed off, leaning away again and closing his eyes. He heard the Commander sigh next to him and clear his throat, shifting away.

“You sound like you have a lot on your mind,” Cullen sounded disappointed, but by this point Dorian had already convinced himself not taking a chance was the better course of action.

“I can leave you with your thoughts, if you like?”

“For now,” Dorian sighed, “That might be best.”

Cullen nodded, standing and heading for the door. “Until tomorrow?” he asked, audibly confused about their situation.

Dorian smiled gently, “Until tomorrow, Commander.”

__________

Dorian slept only a few hours that night, anxious and almost excited for Cullen and his appointment. He wore something more or less appropriate for sparring, forgoing his Inquisition sanctioned armor in favor of his own. It fit his form in a much more flattering way, and the magical embellishments made it more practical as well. He had a bounce to his step as he exited his room, using his staff halfheartedly like a walking stick as he went.

Before he reached the training grounds, Dorian took the time to admire how empty Skyhold felt. There were a few soldiers on the battlement, tired runners getting back from late errands, even two recruits who thought they were being stealthy while stealing a bottle of ale from the closed tavern. They noticed him, swearing as they sprinted off into the bushes to enjoy their find, and Dorian couldn’t help but chuckle at their youthful behavior.

He felt content. Things were going well. He knew he shouldn’t let his guard down, but Dorian couldn’t force himself to be paranoid in this peaceful moment an hour before dawn. He looked to the sky to see the scar and the moon almost perfectly aligned, about halfway set. He had time.

Just as he took a deep breath, a gentle voice barely rocked him.

“Fancy meeting you here. Any reason you’re up so early?”

Dorian turned to see Cullen with a smirk on his lips and still in full armor, despite normally dressing down to train and spar.

“I believe we had a date, Commander. It appears you may have forgotten, from your dress.” Dorian let Cullen notice as he purposefully drug his gaze over the blond’s physic, deciding against licking his lips. What about the wee hours of the morning made Dorian so openly flirtatious, he would never know. Even when it came to men who otherwise wouldn’t be his first choice, Dorian was always more open minded at the early hours.

Cullen raised a brow under the sensual scrutiny, “Oh, I haven’t forgotten. And I could say the same for you, in your…intricate attire.” He dropped his sword and shield next to him on the ground as he began to remove his upper armor, leaving his boots and trousers alone.

“Oh, do you like it? I would have brought it out sooner if we weren’t made to wear uniforms under your command. Boring, ugly uniforms.” Dorian shuddered dramatically.

Cullen shook his head and smirked as he loosely held his weapons, now shirtless and prepared to spar. “I didn’t assign those uniforms, you can take that up with the Inquisitor. However, I doubt your armor would be very practical when rushing into battle. Too many belts.” He eyed Dorian’s armor, trying to figure out how it worked.

Dorian adopted a pose to show quite a bit of his body, showing himself and the armor off at once. “It’s not nearly as complicated as it looks.” Stated matter-of-factly, before dipping his voice to a more sultry tone, “I could show you if you like. With practice, you could become quite proficient. It doesn’t take me much time to strip out of it all.”

His eyes were lidded as he watched Cullen. The Commander’s expression hardly changed as he said, oh so quietly as usual, “Perhaps I’ll keep that in mind.”

He hadn’t hesitated with his response, and Dorian found himself caught off guard at Cullen’s boldness. Maybe the morning hours had an effect on him as well.

“Well then,” he said, squaring up to Dorian, “How shall we start?”

Dorian followed his lead, “Magic or no magic?”

“None yet. I haven’t had to defend against magic without my—what did you call them? ‘Little Templar tricks’?—in quite some time. I don’t want either of us to get hurt. Perhaps when we have some supervision.”

Dorian sighed and said in an overly exasperated tone, “Shame; I was rather hoping these would be…private sessions.” He winked.

Cullen’s face heated, but it didn’t stop him from responding, “Out in the courtyard? This is hardly private. Now, if you ever show me how to work that ‘armor’ of yours; that I’d consider a private session.”

The morning was chilly, dew freezing on to the grass, but it was warm enough that Dorian should not have visibly shivered. He couldn’t pull any excuse when Cullen noticed. It was obvious what was happening. The blond smirked at him, Dorian trying not to think about the effect Cullen’s flirtations had on him. Not here, and certainly not now. Dorian had designed his armor himself, and liked that it fit in a way that left few things to the imagination, but if this sparring session got a little too handsy, Dorian may be wishing he had worn the Inquisition’s armor instead.

Thankfully, Cullen didn’t mention Dorian’s reaction, and simply started their training, leading with the initial blow as always. Dorian could dodge and throw up wards like there was no tomorrow, but he wanted to train his defense, not just evasion. So he used his staff to block and parry Cullen’s attacks, focusing his mind on observing his opponent, just as Cullen had been telling him to.

Before long, Dorian was focusing less and less on Cullen’s form, attack patterns, or eye line, and more on his body, movement, and gaze.

His eyes seemed sharp, knowing exactly where he wanted to land a blow. His body was under full control, every muscle accounted for and flowing to where his gaze wanted them. He moved with such grace for a warrior; surprisingly loose and agile for all his heavy armor and muscle build.

Dorian had continued to successfully dodge and defend while in his trance, but he hadn’t been holding his ground very well, slowly backing up and losing awareness of where his feet were.

Inevitably, his foot landed on uneven ground and he slipped. But long before he would have hit the ground, Cullen wrapped his arm around the mage’s waist and pulled him back up, their chests flush.

Dorian was tense, not even having realized he’d been falling until Cullen pulled him back. He returned from his thoughts when he heard Cullen’s voice say with an incredible tenderness, “I’ve got you.”

“You certainly have…”

Cullen cocked a brow, gentle smile still donned, as he waited for Dorian to make a move. He wasn’t letting go until Dorian told him to, and Dorian finally had the confirmation he needed to take the risk of making said move. His body relaxed against the Commander’s as he let his arms slide between them, nimble fingers tracing up Cullen’s marred chest. Dorian let his hands rest on either side of the blond’s neck, slowly pulling him forward to let their lips meet.

But just as their lips brushed together, they heard footsteps skid to a halt in front of them.

Cullen sighed and turned his head, growling with frustration, “What!?”

The troop looked stunned, having only just realized what she walked up on. When she failed to answer, the Commander let go of Dorian’s waist and marched slowly, intimidatingly toward the recruit, nostrils flared and steps heavy. The young woman backed away with her hands close to her face as if Cullen might actually hurt her. Dorian couldn’t blame her for thinking he might; the blond certainly wasn’t calm.

“I-I’m so sorry Ser, I just w-wanted to be e-early—”

“What do you think the bells are for? So you can wake up before them? If you showed up to battle early, do you know what would happen?”

“I don’t—”

“It would be you against an army, with your fellow soldiers miles behind you. You would be dead before you even had time to scream.”

The poor girl was shaking by this point, trying to stutter an apology through wobbly breath.

Cullen closed his eyes tightly, grumbling as he pressed his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. “While I appreciate your incentive,” he began after he calmed down, “I expect you all here exactly when I say. Not a second later, nor a second sooner. Don’t be early, be on time.”

He looked apologetically to the girl as she continued to quiver. Cullen placed a hand on her shoulder and turned her around, gently prodding her back toward the barracks. She walked off slowly, still in shock.

Dorian smiled and shook his head, arms crossed, as Cullen sauntered back over to him with an embarrassed blush, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“That poor young woman is going to have nightmares” Dorian looked at Cullen accusingly, but he couldn’t help smiling at how ridiculous the whole situation was.

“I’m going to have to apologize to her later. I think I ruined the moment more than her seeing us did.” Cullen’s blush reached from the tips of his ears all the way down his neck and to the bottom of his collarbone.

Dorian chuckled and stepped closer to Cullen again, placing a hand on his cheek only to be greeted with the heat of his blush. “Perhaps we can bring it back before the bells. Unless you’d like to frighten a few more of your troops this morning? Show them who’s boss, etcetera?”

Cullen scoffed a little, but he was smiling. How could he not be, when Dorian was gently caressing his face and coaxing him into a kiss? He replaced his hand on Dorian’s waist and pressed against him, the mage pulling Cullen in tighter by the biceps.

And, finally, their lips met. Dorian meant for it to be rather chaste, leaving Cullen wanting more, but he couldn’t pull himself away. It wasn’t the same kiss he had gotten a hundred times in Tevinter. It wasn’t a formality during a loveless night together. This kiss was warm and soft, tender and compassionate, much like the man giving it.

Dorian’s hands slid up Cullen’s arms to hold his neck firmly, for fear the blond might pull away before Dorian had gotten the chance to relish the kiss. Cullen let his shield clatter to the ground, wrapping both arms tightly around the mage, hands splayed across his back, trying to feel through the armor. For a moment, Dorian considered removing the upper portion of his armor, so the two could be skin to skin, and he could feel Cullen’s callused hands up and down his back. By the Maker, that’s all he wanted in the moment, but he forced himself to save the stripping for somewhere other than the training grounds.

It almost felt like it lasted for hours by the intensity and the way the sun had risen over the fortress walls in the meantime. What finally broke the kiss was the striking ringing of the morning bells sounding Skyhold to wake up. Both men jumped at the sound, completely forgetting their surroundings while locked in each other’s embrace.

Dorian’s surprised eyes locked with Cullen’s with a matching expression, and both couldn’t help but laugh at their reaction. Cullen’s arms were still around Dorian’s waist, and Dorian’s draped over the Commander’s shoulders comfortably. It wasn’t until the men caught a glimpse of approaching grounds keepers that their embrace fell away, standing back awkwardly from one another before they were discovered.

“I…”

Cullen raised his eyebrows, waiting for Dorian to say something, because he was too stunned to do it himself.

“Thank you. For the sparring, that is. I…enjoyed it.” Dorian didn’t want to believe he was blushing, but he knew blood was rushing to his face.

Cullen smiled, only extending his hand in response. Dorian took Cullen’s hand in a firm grasp, giving a single solid shake. They stared at one another for a moment before Cullen stepped forward, his hold becoming gentle and soft. Eyes still locked with Dorian’s, he pressed a lasting kiss to the back of the man’s hand, the gesture holding more emotion than Dorian knew how to respond to. So, instead, he just smiled and ducked his head.

“So did I.” Cullen said lightly bringing their entwined hands away from his lips.

__________

His mind was in shambles, there was no way he could focus with his heart and head racing like this. Adrenaline had his hands shaking and his legs restless, so he paced. And paced and paced, around the room like it was a stage and all his anxiety and fears were the actors in a play.

But all these were real. Far too real for comfort.

Dorian exasperatedly threw open his door, rushing to the tavern to drown his panic attack away. As he walked—it was more of a jog, if he was honest—he wondered if there was really any reason to be anxious. Had anyone even seen him snogging the Commander? Would it be as scandalous in Ferelden as in Tevinter? While he doubted it, his anxious mind was having none of his logic.

When he entered the Herald’s Rest, it was fairly loud, the Inquisitor and Bull getting rowdy with the Chargers and a few stray recruits. Good, plenty of noise to drown out his thoughts.

Dorian grabbed a seat and a drink and proceeded to drink his feelings.

He hadn’t been counting, but it must have been an hour after he started drinking—and seven drinks in; he had been counting those—before a large and gruff hand smacked him playfully on the shoulder. Dorian jumped, turning quickly and narrowing his eyes. As he looked up, he saw a massive rack of Qunari horns and muscle looming over him, tankard in hand and bare chested.

“How’s it going? You’re that mage who kicked Cullen’s ass, yeah?” he lowered into a chair across the table.

“Is that how the story’s been spun?” Dorian’s words were melding together as he swirled his drink around in its mug.

“Might as well go with it,” the Oxman shrugged. “Better than being known as the undercover Vint, right?”

Dorian immediately sobered, back straightening and voice dropping low. “Who are you? What do you know and what do you want?”

Bull raised his brow, “Not even denying it? I’m guessing you aren’t normally this careless when you’re sober. Don’t think you would have made it this far.”

“Answer me,” Dorian growled through clenched teeth.

Smiling, Bull leaned his beefy arms on the table, dropping his tone as well. “I’m Ben Hassrath. Don’t worry, it’s no secret, actually I think that’s the first thing I said to the Inquisitor,” Bull cleared his throat and adjusted to lean even farther across the table, “It’s my job to read people, know things they would never admit by just looking at them. Besides, you really don’t think a Qunari would recognize a Vint when he sees one?”

Dorian couldn’t think straight; the way Bull talked quietly felt as if he didn’t want to out anything, but why would he bring this up in the first place if he was going to keep it a secret?

“I can pay whatever you want, I come from a very wealthy family. Just name your price and I’ll—”

Bull held up a hand to stop him, “Yeah, your family might be rich, but you’re not, are you? You ran off with the clothes on your back and something expensive to sell, just in case. Isn’t that right?”

Dorian’s mouth hung open as he tried to process the information, the fact that Bull was hitting every nail on the head with no more information than what he could see on Dorian’s face.

“That’s what I thought. And don’t worry, I don’t need you to pay me. I know you’re not Venatori, just a regular cocky mage boy. You won’t hurt anyone, not on purpose anyway.” He leaned back, crossing his arms in triumph, watching as realization washed over Dorian’s face.

“You’re not going to tell the Inquisitor? Or the Inquisition as a whole?”

Bull shrugged, downing the last of his ale, “No point. You’re keeping this a secret for a reason, and it’s a pretty good one. It’s probably what I would do in your shoes.”

Dorian took a moment, then shook his head, “But…you were in my situation. And you told them who you really are.”

Laughter echoed around the tavern as Bull belted out, “Oh, I guess I did, didn’t I?” He let the last of the laughter trickle out in several smaller huffs. “Well, at least the whole world isn’t at war with the Qunari.”

Dorian rolled his eyes, “For once,” he muttered.

Bull sneered at him, “Watch it, Vint boy.”

Dorian sighed a breath of relief, hanging his head in his hands. He had no reason to trust Bull would keep his word, but for now it was enough.

After a moment of relative silence—as silent as it can get in a tavern after dark—Dorian heard the chair across from him creak as Bull leaned forward again.

“So, uh…I can see you have a lot on your mind. Think I could help clear your head a bit?”

Dorian looked up in near disgust. He wasn’t sure it was genuine, more just to keep up the Qunari-Tevinter feud. “I think not.”

Bull shrugged and stood, sauntering back to his Chargers. “Suit yourself. You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

While Dorian had to admit he was curious, he was far too enamored with the Commander, thinking back over and over on their moment in the courtyard that morning.

__________

Paranoia had filled his bones for days, taking over his thoughts and actions. He wanted nothing more than to be alone, do as little as possible that could draw suspicion. He separated himself from the troops, the inner circle, the Inquisitor. Bull, especially.

And he tried to separate himself from Cullen, a major source of his anxiety. But every time he saw the blond walking toward him, with a sweet crooked smile that acknowledged their mutual feelings without bringing them to the forefront of conversation, Dorian could feel his shoulders relax and his mind declutter.

And, of course, it happened again. As Dorian trained in the courtyard, he could see the Commander’s infamous armor out of the corner of his eye. He just stood, watched as Dorian put his magic on display, not necessarily trying to impress anyone, but being impressive nonetheless.

At that point, Dorian was finding it hard to tell if Cullen was watching him out of adoration or suspicion. In an attempt to hide his nerves, Dorian ceased his casting and gave Cullen an exaggerated side glance.

“Enjoying the show, Commander?” He shifted his weight to one hip as he poked his staff into the ground.

Cullen raised his brows innocently, “Show? I was just admiring your form. A natural gift, I’m sure.”

Dorian strode up to where Cullen was leaning against a wall, “My form, he says.” He was tempted to run a hand down the blond’s chest, but chose not to out of fear of passersby noticing.

“I was simply studying how you move for the next time we spar, that’s all.” Cullen’s cheeks were ever so slightly pink.

Dorian grinned, “Is that all you were ‘studying’?” his voice was low and rumbly.

A few seconds passed before Cullen had to look away, his face turning bright red, unable to control a smile. Dorian had to give him props for how long the Commander managed to flirt back.

“I was actually here to ask if you had a bit of spare time,” Cullen’s blush slowly left his cheeks as he spoke, “but I figured I would wait until you were done.”

Dorian tilted his head a bit, “I might, depending on what for.”

“Chess.”

Was the conversation still flirtatious? Was “chess” a euphemism used in the south that Dorian wasn’t aware of?

“Chess?”

Cullen chuckled, “Yes, it’s something I like to do to clear my head, and you’ve seemed…full-headed, let’s say, as of late.”

Dorian huffed a laugh, “That would be one way to put it, yes.”

Cullen smiled and gestured to the garden, “Shall we, then?”

They didn’t say much as they walked to the garden, but Cullen began to explain as he pulled out Dorian’s chair for him, “My sister and I used to play chess against each other in hopes of beating our father one day.” He walked around to take his seat once Dorian was settled. “Eventually, she became even better at the game than Dad, so the new goal was for me to beat her. My brother and I practiced for months, hoping one of us would be able to beat her at least once. The look on her face when I finally won…”

The memory of triumph put the sweetest, most juvenile smile on Cullen’s scarred lips. Dorian couldn’t help but inquire, “A girl and two boys? Sounds like you parents had their work cut out for them.”

“Two girls and two boys, actually. Mia is the eldest, Rosalie is the youngest. I’m the older of us boys, however. Branson is a few years younger than me.”

Dorian scoffed with shock, “Quite a large family, isn’t it? And to think, I have no entertaining sibling stories to share.”

“Only child? You must have been spoiled, getting all the attention.” Cullen moved a piece on the board to start off the match.

Dorian gave a single harsh laugh. “Hardly; if my parents spent money on me, it was for my schooling. Only the most prestigious academies for their little heir.” Dorian rolled his eyes as he made his move, sitting back and crossing his arms after.

Cullen’s expression was so gentle and sympathetic. Dorian didn’t enjoy being pitied, but he knew Cullen wasn’t the type.

“Children should be free to have fun. It wasn’t fair of them to make you work so hard.”

Dorian felt a deep compressed anger bubble up before he said, “Children should be free to have fun, teenagers should be free to have fun, and I believe adults should be free to have fun. We should all just have fun with whomever we want and no one should have the right to judge us for it.”

Arms crossed over his chest, Dorian took a moment to calm down before looking back up to meet Cullen’s gaze. He seemed shocked and a little worried. Dorian looked at him expectantly with eyebrows raised.

“Uh, yes, I agree!” Cullen rushed to assure him, “I’m just not sure where that came from. Is that what’s been bothering you these past few days?”

Dorian sighed, “I suppose it’s part of it. That has been bothering me for most of my life, truthfully.”

The rest of the match was played in silence, Cullen only interjecting once to call Dorian out for cheating. They both laughed as Dorian replaced the affected piece, but they fell quiet again to finish the game.

“I believe that’s Checkmate.”

Dorian shook his head playfully, “You’re in the right line of work, it seems. Strategy is your forte. Good game, Commander.”

“And to you, Dorian. Care to play another round?”

As much as he was enjoying Cullen’s company, Dorian’s mind was tired from all his worrying—though this had been a good distraction—and he just needed to rest.

“I’m afraid not. I’ve things I wanted to get done today, I’m sorry.”

Cullen rose from his seat, “It’s no problem at all.”

Dorian rose as well, but neither went anywhere. They both just stood, looking softly at the other.

“Um…” Cullen rubbed at the back of his neck. “Could I walk you back to your quarters, then? Or wherever it is you’re headed.”

Dorian felt a flattered smile tease the corner of his lips. “I would like that, yes.”

On the steps up to the loft of the main hall, Dorian cleared his throat before speaking, “I apologize for my outburst earlier. I’ve just been thinking about my life back home recently.”

Cullen shook his head and placed a gentle hand on the mage’s back, “You have nothing to apologize for. I was hoping a game of chess would help clear your mind, so I was expecting you to vent a bit.”

At Dorian’s door Cullen added, “You know, you should feel free to talk to me. About anything. I said that when we first met, and it hasn’t changed just because you’re no longer under my command.”

As he stood in the doorway, Dorian glanced from Cullen to inside his room, wondering if he should act on their mutual attraction, or continue avoiding Cullen forever. How would Cullen be hurt if Dorian’s lies came to light? Not nearly as badly if they were just friends.

Dorian took a deep breath, “Maybe talking would help.”

Cullen smiled loosely.

“Or…” I’m really going through with this, aren’t I? “maybe not talking would help…”

Cullen’s smile fell away as he caught Dorian’s meaning. He didn’t make any move toward or away from Dorian, just like the first time he had been in his room. He simply said, in the quietest voice just above a whisper, “Whatever you’d like, I’m here.”

That was Dorian’s last chance to not do something stupid, but he ignored his racing heart. “I’d like you to come in.”

Cullen took a single stride into the room, closing the door and locking it behind them. He slowly closed the distance between them, placing caring hands on Dorian’s hips, waiting for more invitation.

Dorian let his hands glide up the armor on Cullen’s chest, watching his fingers draw closer to Cullen’s neck, the blond’s eyes studying his unsure expression all the while.

Just as skin met skin, Cullen whispered, “We don’t have to do this. No one’s making us. If you’re not certain—”

“I’m certain about you,” Dorian met his gaze, “I’m only uncertain about letting myself do this. I’ve fucked this up before, I don’t want to fuck it up with you.”

Cullen let out a pained sigh, gently taking Dorian's face in his hands and kissing him. How could something so soft be so intense all at once? Dorian dug his fingers into the fur mantle of Cullen’s armor, walking them backward toward the bed. With each step, a new article of clothing fell away, until they finally fell onto the bed in only their trousers. Cullen’s attention turned to the mage’s neck, Dorian biting his lip at the sensation.

Cullen’s kisses moved up and down and back up slowly and methodically, making Dorian arch off the bed ever so slightly with each touch, subtle noises escaping his lips. Cullen wrapped his tongue around the shell of Dorian’s ear, breathing heavy but quiet, “I can’t begin to tell you how you make me feel. I adore everything about you. I admire your confidence and how unabashedly ‘you’ you are. I can hardly stand to be away from you the more I get to know you.”

Dorian was nearly breathless as Cullen kissed his way down the mage’s chest. It wasn’t until those callused fingers started to loosen his laces that he felt he couldn’t breathe at all.

As Cullen made tantalizing work of Dorian’s last remaining garment, he whispered with raw emotion, “Nothing could change the way I feel about you, Dorian Rider.”

With that, Dorian sat up and grabbed Cullen’s hands to pause their work.

“Stop.”

Cullen’s head shot up to look Dorian in the eye, worry flooding his mind. “Are you ok?” he lifted himself to sit on the edge of the bed next to the mage, caressing his cheek with one hand, stroking his hair with the other.

“You don’t know me, Cullen. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Confusion washed over Cullen’s features, “I…I don’t understand. I want to know you. I feel like I do, but if I don’t, then I want—”

Dorian shook his head vigorously, “Cullen, you don’t get it! You wouldn’t want me if you knew me.”

Cullen’s eyes went stern, “Dorian, I just told you nothing could change my feelings for you. Nothing. I meant that.”

Dorian removed Cullen’s hand from his face, gently stroking the Commander’s knuckles with his thumb, “Please go, Cullen. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“You could never hurt—”

“Please,” Tears threatened the rims of his eyes as he tried to hold his ground. He wanted nothing more than Cullen’s body against his, but he knew Cullen would only be let down, falling for a fake man Dorian created.

Cullen took a moment to lean his head against Dorian’s, a wordless goodbye, before he rose and began throwing on his armor, scattered from the door to the foot of the bed. Dorian watched his hands as Cullen silently dressed, glancing back periodically to gauge the mage’s feelings.

As he opened the door to leave, Cullen’s weak voice called back, “You can tell me anything, Dorian. I meant that, too.”

“Not anything.”

The room turned cold when Cullen left, and the breeze from the door closing behind his one chance at love shook the tears from Dorian’s eyes, falling onto his shaking hands.

He could have been sitting there for hours—he wouldn’t know—just trying to…well, he wasn’t sure of that either. He felt so numb despite the tears he could feel on his cheeks. He couldn’t decide if he needed a drink, a good sob, or some self-pleasuring. None of them would make him feel better, but they would make him feel something.

He’s gone. Dorian kept repeating in his head. He’s gone, and I sent him away. He confessed his feelings to me, feelings I share, and I told him to go. I can never get him back, I sent him away…

__________

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but when the bells rang out, his eyes opened. They were dry and sore from crying; probably still red, too. Dorian reluctantly dragged his body out from under the fur blankets and sulked over to his mirror. Yes, definitely still red. He didn’t want to go out like that. He didn’t want to go out at all, for fear he might have to face his lost lover.

No, I didn’t lose him. Dorian stared himself down in the mirror, I pushed him away.

Dorian managed to make himself presentable, but he felt like a fraud in his own skin. He had settled into the identity of Dorian Rider, but somehow Cullen had undone all his hard work. Dorian was once again faced with himself, nothing to cover the shame he felt lying to a man who cared for him so deeply. And yet, he made no effort to tell Cullen the truth.

He would only be hurt that I lied to him, things are better this way. Interesting, the way Dorian continued attempting to convince himself he was in the right, when every part of him knew better.

Before he could psychoanalyze any further, Dorian pushed his chair back from the vanity and marched out the door, leaving his doubt at the threshold.

On the walk to the library, he felt like people were looking at him differently. They weren’t, when he looked closer, but nothing felt comfortable anymore. And things only became more uncomfortable when in the main hall Dorian’s eyes locked with golden ones on the other side of the room.

Cullen was entering the hall to the war room, papers tucked under his arm, when he glanced up, double taking before locking his gaze with Dorian’s. He wanted to run to the Commander, throw himself into the blond’s arms and apologize for everything. But melting on the other side of the hall would have to do. Cullen’s stare went soft as he saw the pain in Dorian’s eyes. They both knew the other was aching for their love, but both were too scared.

Cullen finally shook his head and looked down at his boots, disappearing into the ambassador’s office without a word.

Dorian tried to brush it off, tried to focus on his research, but to no avail. His mind was flooding with his mistakes. Though his eyes trekked the page in front of him, though his fingers turned the pages, he processed nothing. His mind was too full.

If there’s any perfect place to brood, it would be a library. Everyone passed Dorian without suspicion, assuming him to be lost in his work, all the while his crisis played out in silence. By the time the sun was setting, Dorian had read several works, but only had a page of notes. He tried to be productive, at least.

Now he had a choice to make: go back to his room and sleep his problems away, or go to the tavern and drink his problems away. Decisions, decisions.

Drowning his sorrows did sound tempting, but Dorian had pretended to be okay around enough people today. Besides, he didn’t need Bull to dive into his subconscious.

Dorian reached his quarters and, just as he prepared to shed his clothes and fall into a fitful sleep, a frantic knock rattled his door. He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound. He waited a moment, but nothing more happened. Dorian slowly approached the door and unfastened the latch. Right as he did, the door flew open, nearly knocking him back.

Cullen charged into the room with a wrinkled piece of parchment strangled in his fist. He slammed the door behind him, and somehow quietly screamed, “What, by Andraste, is this?!”

He held up the letter just long enough for Dorian to see a familiar signature at the bottom of the page. “Halward Pavus.” Oh, Maker, no.

Dorian’s jaw dropped, eyes wide, hands turning clammy. He had no words, not that Cullen was interested in listening.

Cullen threw the note behind him, roughly grabbing Dorian’s shoulders and pushing him into the vanity behind them. Dorian tried to babble a “this isn’t what it looks like” before the backs of his thighs collided with the table and a pair of harsh, sweet, warm lips crashed against his.

Before he could return the kiss, or even close his eyes, Cullen pulled away and stared him down. “You really had me falling for you. Was that your plan? Get close to the Commander of the Inquisition so you could leach information from me to send back to your Venatori parents?!”

“No, Cullen, I would never—”

“You made me fall in love with you.”

That word took all Dorian’s breath. His previously pounding heart stopped. Tears welled up in his eyes as he realized what he had done, the pain he caused, the trust he’d broken. This is all he wanted to prevent.

“I-I’m so sorry, I never wanted this—”

“You aren’t even going to deny it?!” Cullen stood back from him, disgust in his eyes. That look alone could ruin Dorian.

“Cullen, please! I’m not Venatori! I tried to hide because I knew you’d think a Tevinter mage was Venatori, I knew you would think I was a spy, or a thief, or—”

“Lying only makes you look guiltier, Dorian! Bull told us exactly what he was going to do if he joined the Inquisition and we took him on his word because we were desperate. If you had told us, told me the truth—”

“Would you believe a mage walking through your gates saying, ‘Yes, I am a very powerful necromancer from Tevinter, but I swear I’m not Venatori’?”

Cullen’s face contorted again, backing up further, “You’re a necromancer?”

Dorian should have held his tongue. If he had stayed quiet, would they have given him a trial? But he supposed staying quiet is what led to this mess in the first place.

“Cullen I—please, give me a moment to explain! I never wanted you to get hurt, I didn’t mean to fool you into falling for me. I promise you, I never wanted any of this!”

Cullen’s voice dropped, “You didn’t mean for me to fall in love with you?”

Dorian’s shoulders relaxed, “No—well, yes. I—I hoped you were falling too because, Cullen, I lo—”

Cullen’s jaw clenched and he nearly gripped Dorian again, taking all the strength he had to hold back. “Don’t…say it.”

“But, Cullen, I really do—”

Cullen was on him in an instant, hands digging into his hair, lips locked in a heated kiss. Passion mixed with anger and confusion as the two men lost themselves in physical sensation.

Dorian gasped for air as the kiss finally broke, Cullen asking through panting breath, “Make me believe you. Prove you’re the same man I loved.”

Dorian searched the blond’s face for something that could help him, but he found only hurt and betrayal. “I…I can’t.” he didn’t know how he could fix this, he didn’t think he could.

Tears finally fell from Cullen’s eyes as he looked to the floor, crossing his arms over his chest and turning away, not wanting Dorian to see just how much he’d hurt him.

“Get out. Take your things, food, lyrium potions. I don’t care, take whatever you want, just…”

Dorian held his breath, devastated to hear what came next, “I don’t ever want to see your face again.”

He was crushed, he felt like his legs would give out from under him. But Dorian moved as he was told, gathering his things, tears staining each item he touched.

Cullen refused to look at him, keeping his back to Dorian as the mage packed all he could.

Dorian approached the door slowly, hoping Cullen would stop him to say something more, something that could bring Dorian hope for seeing each other again. But he got no such reply.

“Don’t let anyone see you leave. I’m going to tell them you vanished into the night before I could confront you. They won’t come looking for you. Neither will I.” Cullen’s glazed eyes rose to look into Dorian’s, puffy and bloodshot. “Goodbye, Dorian.”

His heart sank. He felt like he might vomit, if he had any strength. He felt so weak and lost.

“Goodbye, Cullen.”

With those final words, Dorian was gone. He did as Cullen told him, making sure no one witnessed him leave into the dark. With nowhere else to go, he headed toward Miss Ella’s farm. Dorian didn’t know how he would tell her, but he was done lying. He’d hurt the most important person to him already, nothing could be worse.

__________

Cullen stood in the empty room with his eyes closed, hands over his face, wiping away his tears so he could pretend he wasn’t hurt. After taking a moment to compose himself, Cullen began searching the room halfheartedly. He threw open drawers without really looking, making the place look ransacked in a rush. Once he’d scattered things in a believable way, he turned his attention to the lock on the door. He took the hilt of his sword and knocked the latch loose, making it look like he had broken in. That should be enough to convince his fellow advisors.

Cullen quickly returned to the war room where many members of the inner circle, along with the Inquisitor and his advisors, waited in anticipation for the Commander’s return. As the door swung open, all heads turned toward him, each with equally expectant and worried looks. Cullen’s face was blank, but his feeling of defeat was still obvious.

“Well?” Cassandra stepped forward, worry in her eyes but anger on her face, “Where is that Venatori bastard?”

Cullen sighed deeply, the rest of the room raising their brows in unison.

“Gone. I didn’t find him in the ‘Rest or his room.”

Cassandra scoffed, “Then we send a search party. Check all corners of Skyhold, then we—”

“We can send all the search parties you want, Lady Seeker, but there’s nothing left of him here. I broke into his quarters and looked for any information as to where he could be or what he hoped to gain by joining our ranks, but I found nothing. He either took everything important with him, or destroyed it.”

Everyone’s heads fell, shoulders slouching in defeat.

The Inquisitor looked to Cullen with sadness strewn across his features. “And to think, we had all become so close…and it meant nothing to him.”

Tears threatened Cullen’s eyes again as he remembered how desperately Dorian had clung to him, tied to convince him he was innocent. But innocent men don’t hide, innocent men don’t lie.

“I know. But that must have been what he wanted. For us all to get comfortable, slowly leaking him the information he needed.” He closed his eyes tightly, shaking and dropping his head, “I should have never let him join the inner circle. I’m sorry, Inquisitor.”

The Inquisitor looked back to his party, nodding toward the door. All but the advisors exited the war room, leaving the room silent and cold. Once the space was empty of onlookers, the Inquisitor shuffled over to Cullen with wet eyes. They looked at one another for a long moment before the Inquisitor wrapped his arms around Cullen’s waist. Cullen’s eyes widened in shock, looking down at the elf hanging onto him for dear life, before he gave in and squeezed the Dalish’s shoulders in return.

They stood like that for a moment, Leliana and Josephine watching on solemnly, wrapped in their own somber embrace. The elf pulled back but stayed close, saying in a quiet voice, “He was my friend, Cullen. Our friend,” he gestured to the women behind him, “I know he was yours, too.”

Cullen felt his heart stop, then fall into the empty pit in his chest. “Yes,” he said gently, “the closest I’ve had since…in a while.”

The elf made certain the door closed quietly behind him as he left, Josephine following closely behind. Before Leliana made her move to leave as well, she handed Cullen a short stack of papers.

With a soft voice, she said, “I’m sure this isn’t the best time to tell you, but I started digging right after we intercepted the letter. I found the names of a few close friends and accomplices of the Pavus family. One of which has been heavily involved with the Venatori since before the term was coined, before they worshipped Corypheus.”

Cullen flipped through the pages, sloppily skimming the words on each one.

“Name?” Cullen asked, no nonsense.

“Gereon Alexius, a former mentor and family friend, from what I found. If Dorian had anything to do with the magicks Alexius had been developing…”

“I’ll go over it in the morning. Thank you, Leliana.” Cullen’s voice was flat and flavorless.

The spymaster sighed, placing a sympathetic hand on Cullen’s cheek, palm surprisingly warm. “I know what you felt for him. When I first joined the Hero of Ferelden on her journey…”

Cullen looked at her with understanding.

Leliana cleared her throat, never having gotten this personal with the Commander before. “Well, people have feelings that sometimes contradict with their goals. And they choose which to follow. Often, I think, they choose the wrong path.”

Cullen nodded, eyes squeezing shut with hurt.

“What I’m trying to say is this: I wonder if he didn’t lie to you about the way he felt, but knew it wouldn’t align with his plans.”

“I can’t have feelings for someone who supports the Venatori’s agenda. He fooled me, Leliana. I fell for a man that doesn’t exist.”

Leliana’s hand fell from his cheek. “Have you considered his personality may have been real?”

Cullen opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out, his brow simply furrowed.

She gave a slight smile, “Please rest, Commander. The war can wait a night.”

__________

Cullen didn’t sleep that night, his dreams plagued by images of Dorian and echoes of their final goodbyes. He could still feel the mage’s thin fingers in his hair, the passion and meaning in each kiss they shared. Cullen would wake frequently throughout the night, sweating and conflicted, his emotions at war with reality.

It was futile after a while, and only served to drain his energy more each time he woke, so he stopped trying to rest, instead making his way down to his office to mull over Leliana’s research. The blond felt hopeless as he read, not recognizing any of the names of the influential families mentioned, despite them all being connected to someone he thought he knew.

As he skimmed the next few pages—mostly filled with descriptions of how money was passed amongst the families for favors, something Josephine could use later—Cullen’s eyes paused on a description of Dorian. The quote seemed to be a letter sent from a man called Felix, to Dorian’s father:

“Lord Pavus,

My father has been rather busy with his project, so he asked me to write you in his place. Dorian has been of exponential help with his academic knowledge, but also with his experience. My father truly appreciates you continuing to allow Dorian to remain with us. As promised, he is kept an eye on, allowed only to leave the grounds with the accompaniment of myself or a guard. Speaking personally, your son is a great man. He has been nothing but honest with us, and I consider him a friend. I am starting to suspect he does not know my father’s intent with their project, and I am beginning to worry he may cease work if he discovers its purpose. Know that, should that happen, I will not stop him. Our task was to keep him from trouble, and if he deems the project as such, I will trust his judgement. My father and I have different views on these types of magicks; Dorian seems to enjoy thinking about the hypothetical, but he agrees that these things are better left to imagination. While the project is important to my father—and of course to myself, if it can work to cure me—I feel a need to allow Dorian to do what is best for himself. These are my intentions, not my father’s. He has all intentions to hold up his end of your bargain. I have made no such promises to you. Be aware of that.

Yours Truly,

Felix Alexius

P.S. Dorian asks that you do not attempt to contact him directly. He has nothing to say to you.”

Cullen could deduce two things from the letter: Felix Alexius is Gereon Alexius’s son, and whatever they were working on was magic most people have an aversion to. Could it be blood magic? What would blood magic have to do with curing someone of an ailment? Even if this Felix was possessed, blood magic could only transfer the demon to another living being, not banish it. Blood magic is a demon’s domain.

As much as he tried to focus on what information he could draw about their “project”, Cullen couldn’t help but see how devoted Felix was to Dorian. While he claimed in the letter to consider Dorian a friend, could they have been more? Another detail about Tevinter Dorian had hidden.

“Nothing but honest?” Cullen thought aloud, “If only. Would have saved me a few headaches.”

Cullen drug a hand over his face, wiping away a tear he hadn’t noticed pooling in the corner of his eye. This was harder than he thought it would be, to consider his paramour could be capable of aiding the Venatori, or even worse, being one of them.

He took a moment to collect himself before dressing in his usual armor and setting off for the war room where he would wait for the morning to fully rise and his fellow advisors to arrive.

Entering the hall leading to the war room, Cullen was greeted by Josephine at her desk looking exhausted, mulling over paper work of her own. She looked up upon hearing the door creak open and gave him a weak smile.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked knowingly, fixing her frazzled hair.

Cullen nodded, “I see you couldn’t either. Manage to dig up anything else?”

Josephine sighed, bringing a tall stack of parchment up from the floor by her feet. “There are many noble families associated with the Venatori. Most are from Tevinter, of course, but there are a surprising handful from Antiva.”

Cullen plopped into the seat in front of Josephine’s desk, about to start sorting through the things she’d dug up, when the door creaked again, Leliana leaning her head in.

“I thought I heard you up, Josie. Commander.” She nodded to Cullen in greeting.

He nodded back, handing her his notes from the morning, “I found a letter in what you gave me, from a young man named Felix. It looks like he’s Alexius’s son, and he knows what they were working on. Something big, something dangerous, something even Dorian seemed hesitant about.”

“Blood magic?” Josephine asked, walking around her desk to peer over Leliana’s shoulder.

“That was my first thought, but the people of Tevinter have a long history with blood magic; I wouldn’t think a Tevinter would have any qualms about using it. No, this must be something people don’t play with.”

The women shook their heads in unison. “Corypheus is driving his followers to play with the laws of nature.” Leliana said under her breath.

“Possibly. We need to find Alexius before he completes his project, if he hasn’t already.”

The women nodded, Josephine rushing off to wake the Inquisitor.

As the door swung closed, Leliana turned to face the Commander, kneeling on the ground before him. “Are you feeling any better? I take it you didn’t sleep well.”

Cullen shook his head, leaning forward in defeat. “I understand you have eyes everywhere around Skyhold, but how is it you knew about me and Dorian, but didn’t know Dorian was pretending to be someone else?”

Leliana sighed, crossing her legs under her, “I don’t know. I feel like I failed us, I let such a huge threat pass through our defenses. He must have been extremely careful. It…it makes me wonder if he has other correspondents in our ranks.”

Cullen nearly choked on his bitter laugh, “One thing at a time, Leliana. If there were any other Tevinters in the Inquisition, they would have fled with Dorian. They’d know they had been found out. We can look into it after we find this mentor of Dorian’s and find out what that secret project is all about.”

It didn’t seem to make the spymaster any less nervous, picking at her fingernails and staring into her lap. Cullen sighed, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, “You haven’t failed anyone. I’m the only fool here.”

Before she could reassure him, the door flew open again, the Inquisitor and Josephine holding yet more research. Cullen stood, bowing his head respectfully.

“What’s this about a secret project?” The elf asked, almost panting.

“I found a letter from Dorian’s mentor’s son describing a project using magicks none of them felt comfortable messing around with. We’ve ruled out blood magic; we think it could be something even more threatening.”

“Are we certain? Dorian seemed very against blood magic when we spoke about it. He almost looked sick talking about it.” The Inquisitor nearly snatched the letter from Cullen’s hand when offered.

“Even if those were his true feelings on the matter, blood magic is not a rarity in Tevinter, and even this mentor and his son seemed hesitant.” Cullen explained, pointing to his notes in the margins.

The elf sighed, sitting in Cullen’s now vacant seat. “This is bad. So bad.”

“Yes…” Cullen sat as well.

After a long silence where the room seemed as tired as the people in it, Josephine spoke up.

“Should we start work on a plan of attack?”

“I’ll see if I can hunt Alexius down. Maybe find his son, if I can’t find the man himself.” Leliana was already heading back to her nook to send out spies.

The Inquisitor absentmindedly nodded, approving but reluctant. “I’ll see who wants to come along to fight an insane Venatori with some mystical secret magic. Wish me luck.” He stood and shuffled toward the door.

“Cullen, form a small band of troops. Some of the more talented Templars, if you could. I have a feeling we’ll require their abilities.”

“Yes, Ser.” Cullen said bluntly, watching the Inquisitor as he exited.

Josephine and Cullen turned to one another. “I’ll see if anyone is willing to trade their honor for a bribe. I suppose we’ll regroup after we’ve all finished. Stay strong, Commander.”

“Thank you, Josephine. I will certainly do my best.” Cullen gave a respectful bow before leaving the ambassador to her work.

As he walked down the main hall, ready to turn left through Solas’s quarters toward his office, Cullen noticed the light breeze coming from a door to his right. He glanced over and saw the garden mostly empty before the door swung shut again. He could use to clear his head.

So he turned right instead, stepping out into the garden. Cullen breathed in and held it, letting the silence wash over him. He let the breath out and began slowly pacing the garden. He brushed his gloved fingertips across the leaves in the herb planters, watched on as a bird drank from the well, and stepped over the line of ants making their way to their hill. But when he reached the gazebo, he stopped.

Cullen looked on solemnly at the chess board, pieces still set as they were when he and Dorian had played, a few knocked over from wind. Cullen sat in his seat and stared across to where Dorian should have been. He’d looked so beautiful that day, the sun backlighting and outlining his face. He had still had a sheen of sweat from sparring, glistening off his toned arms and neck. Cullen heaved a long sigh before moving one of Dorian’s pieces forward.

“Check mate,” He whispered, “You got me, Dorian.”

After a moment Cullen stood, making his way into the small Chantry set up in one of the rooms off the garden. Andraste’s likeness watched him as he entered, false golden eyes seeming to follow him. Cullen gently lowered himself onto a knee, clasping his hands in front of his face before the shrine.

“It’s been a while since I’ve done this properly.” He admitted.

Cullen proceeded to recite the Chant of Light and several prayers for the men and women he would be taking with him to battle. One for the Inquisitor, one for himself, one for his friends, and one for his family.

Before he stood, Cullen closed his eyes tightly. “He may not deserve it,” he said softly, quietly, “but Maker please, keep Dorian safe. I doubt more and more the decision I made sending him away. I should have let him say his piece. I didn’t know Dorian Pavus, but I knew my Dorian. There has to be something of the man I loved in there. It couldn’t have all been a lie. He cried for me, he told me he didn’t want to hurt me. I can’t bear the thought of it all having been manipulation. Please, wherever he is, keep him safe.”

__________

Cullen would have preferred it hadn’t taken as long as it did, but here they were two days later with plans sprawled out on the war table. Each advisor had done their work quickly but surely, getting as close to the truth as they could in such a short time frame. Cullen had his Templar volunteers and a solid fighting strategy, Leliana had her eye witnesses, and Josephine had her bribed sources.

As the Inquisitor wrapped up the meeting, all attendees on board with the plan, he asked, “Any final questions?” Hesitant to move forward with their search.

The room had a sad sort of silence, none of them sure they would return safely, or return at all. They had been lucky since Haven to avoid any true life or death battles, but they were all well aware this would be like no fight they had fought before.

With the lack of any remaining questions to help him stall, Lavellan turned to Cullen with soft eyes. “Are you ready, Commander?”

After a deep, deep breath, He nodded. They were all on their horses and off in an instant, Skyhold’s gates behind them reminding them there was no turning back.

Hours later, after following the directions Leliana’s spies could write out with any certainty, the party found themselves passing through Redcliffe Farms, past the stables and the druffalo, to a fork splitting the trotted path in two.

“This way, I think.” The Inquisitor said, checking the written description again.

“Are you sure?” Cullen chimed in quickly, riding up to align their horses so he could glance over the elf’s shoulder. “The only thing up the hill is the watchtower. A stream beyond that. I expect if the Venatori were holed up there, the stable master and his wife would have noticed. Certainly our guards in the tower would have seen them come and go.”

Lavellan chewed the inside of his lip as he became less convinced they weren’t out on a wild goose chance. “The reports just say ‘Venatori activity traced back to Redcliffe Farms. Suspected to be in Dead Ram Grove.”

Increasingly frustrated by the vague intel they had managed to scrounge up practically overnight, Cullen let out a scoff. “Dead Ram Grove is the start of the stream, where the water flows down from the mountains. The only thing there is water and sheep. Obviously Leliana’s helpers need their heads examined. It’s pointless to even look.”

As Cullen turned his horse around, ready to head back to the farm and ask around, the Templars all perked up in unison.

“Commander,” Barris pulled his horse to block Cullen’s path. “There is magic here. It’s faint, not like a mage is present, but a spell they left behind. Whether they remain here, or have since left the area, I still believe it’s worth investigating.”

Cullen looked over his shoulder for conformation, the Inquisitor already leading the group ahead. While he trusted Barris’s sense for magic, Cullen also felt dread, part of him hoping they wouldn’t find anything Venatori related. Or at least nothing that would confirm Dorian’s connection to them. But he followed dutifully, returning to his position right next to the Inquisitor.

As they passed the watch tower overlooking the farm, and led their horses to wade through the water as they followed upstream, Cullen’s heart raced. The Templars continued to sense lingering magic, perhaps even an active enchantment; a ward meant to hide things in plain sight.

“Dispell,” Cullen commanded, Barris and his soldiers taking deep swigs of lyrium. Cullen averted his eyes as they did.

Moving as one, the Templars gave two hardy hits each to their shields, and a shock wave erupted out from their group. It made no noise, but bounced off the walls of Dead Ram Grove like an echo. The party stayed silent in waiting.

Distant voices could be heard speaking Tavene.

Cullen and Lavellan whipped their heads around to look at each other with wide eyes. “Venatori!”

Hurried but quiet, the party leapt off their horses, loosely draping their reins over branches to keep the steeds in place. They followed the voices to a low cliff overlooking the grove. There was little foot traffic, with overgrown grass and weeds, dead trees leaning to make a morbid arch. As they inched closer, a small sconce lit on its own, causing the Inquisitor to jump.

He took a hesitant step forward, narrowing his eyes at the greenish blue flame. “Veil fire.” He whispered behind him. “That means mages.”

Part of Cullen’s heart sank. While he knew this would lead them to gaining an edge against Corypheus, a selfish part of him wanted them to find nothing, so he would never learn more about just how much Dorian had lied to him.

Entering the ruins of what must have been an old exit from the deep roads, massive stone pillars loomed, along with menacing statues of cloaked skeletons driving their swords into the ground. The group felt uneasy, each member fidgeting and glancing to every corner of the room. It was dark, but the light from outside showed them a staircase leading even further into the earth, and further into darkness.

Cullen blocked the Inquisitor from continuing, rather taking the lead himself to protect the elf from a possible ambush. Making their way forward only led them to darker and darker rooms, no torches in sight, only dim Veil fires that continued to flare up ominously as they approached each sconce.

Just as they entered the final room of the cave ruin, Cullen starting to think there may be nothing here after all, the room came to life, sconces bursting into multicolored flames, illuminating the space to reveal that they were surrounded.

“Inquisitor,” a dark figure in Tevinter robes grinned smugly from a ruined throne at the far end of the room. “Welcome.”

“Sheath your weapons,” the surrounding mages demanded, drawing ever closer with staves outstretched.

The party looked to Lavellan for instruction, and he nodded, returning his sword to his back. The group followed suit.

“We were beginning to wonder if you might realize how close we had drawn. Corypheus sends his regards.” The mage stood from his seat, tossing back his hood and crossing his arms behind him.

“Oh, we found you out quickly,” Lavellan snarled, “Your little spy wasn’t as stealthy as he thought. Maybe you should handle your correspondents’ communications more carefully.”

The Tevinter’s brow raised, looking surprised, but always taunting. “My ‘spy’?” he inquired with a lilted voice, “Do tell, Inquisitor.”

Cullen rolled his eyes. “No need to play coy, Alexius. We intercepted Magister Pavus’s attempts to contact his son, whom you so clumsily slipped into our ranks.” Cullen’s bitterness and blame had all lifted off of Dorian in that moment as he directed his hurt onto Alexius, the man responsible for all this heartbreak in the first place, as far as Cullen was concerned.

“Magister Pavus’s son?” Alexius’s grin dropped, “You speak of Dorian, Commander?”

Cullen flinched at the mention of the mage’s name.

Alexius looked to the throne behind him, tracing a finger along the arm. “My poor Dorian; if only he could have seen the good he could achieve. Not only for Tevinter, for the world.”

Cullen was in shock at what he was hearing. If Alexius hadn’t sent Dorian to the Inquisition, then who did? Could all that Dorian said, that fateful night on which he was banished from Cullen’s sight, be true after all? From where he stood, all Cullen could see was a backlit outline, but the mage before them began to make an obvious, sinister movement toward his pocket.

“What Dorian never realized, what I tried to teach him through our research, is that Thedas…Thedas needs direction,” his voice was low as he turned, eyes glistening with intent, knowing he had won.

“Thedas needs control.”

Blue light began sparking in the mage’s palm, lighting his crazed expression from below, broken sounds of laughter escaping his lips as he raised his hand higher.

The Inquisitor and Cullen watched on with masked fear as a small talisman on a leather cord began to rise on its own from the palm of Alexius’s hand, crackling in an unstable, uncontrolled manner. Just as dread and the weight of their own mortality began washing over the party, a voice called out from a shadowy corner:

“No! I won’t let you do this.”

The blue cast vanished at once, the talisman dropping from its ominous floating and back into the mage’s hand. Alexius whipped his neck around, eyes worried and shocked at once, obviously recognizing the voice. The young man had dark, tired eyes as he revealed himself from the dark. His skin lacked color, and his hair was thin. He looked as if he had lived a man’s full life in only a few years, and he was exhausted.

“Felix!” Alexius ran to the young man’s side. “My son, you should be resting, you’re too weak; you look so pale!”

Cullen’s shoulders relaxed as he heard the familiar name. “Felix?” he said quietly, then directing his question to the man himself, “You were friends with Dorian, weren’t you?”

Felix pushed past his father, standing before the party with confidence. “I am. I know him well, and I know he would never have helped with your project if he knew what you planned to use it for.” He turned to face Alexius, pointing an accusing finger. “You lied to him! You lied to me! You said this was for my health, that you thought this could save me! You betrayed his trust, my trust!”

His eyes went somber as he quietly asked, “What would mother think?”

That sent Alexius into a rage, shouting furiously, “This could bring her back! Both of you would be safe, healthy, happy! I did this all for you both!”

Tears began to well in his eyes as Felix retorted, voice meek and sad, “No. She would have never wanted this.”

Alexius became irate, nostrils flaring and fists clenching, “How dare you!!” he screamed. “You have the opportunity to have your mother back, to have never lost her at all, and you tell me she would never want this? You stand before me, your own father, who has loved and raised you single handedly since she passed, telling me this isn’t all for you?!”

“Raised me? Single handedly?! What about all the days, even weeks, I went without seeing you because you were too hung up on your project? Too lost in the past to spend time with your own son? After my mother died in front of my eyes!”

Alexius’s hands began to burn with fire, the talisman feeding off of his rage and sparking once again. “You would be in the grave with her if it weren’t for me! All that research, just to keep you alive for all these years! You would have died within days of her if it weren’t for all my time spent in that damned laboratory, slaving over revolutionary medicines I now learn you weren’t even grateful for!”

“I wish I had died with her!” Felix’s cry echoed through the stone of the ruin walls. “I’ve been suffering for years! I feel the Blight eating away at me from the inside every moment I continue to breathe! You have no idea the pain you’ve put me through!”

The room fell silent, Alexius thinking on his son’s hurtful words.

“Well,” he said after a long while, voice raspy with emotion, “If my magic can’t serve to help you,” he clenched the talisman with ferocity, “It will serve Corypheus just fine!”

The room lit with blue lightening, the talisman flying into the center of the space and igniting with quick bursts of magical energy, barely controlled. Alexius howled with mad laughter, arms outstretched to feed the talisman with all his mana, fueling the chaotic reaction.

“Father, No!” Felix screamed, throwing himself at Alexius, tackling him to the ground.

While the Venatori were distracted, all watching in awe at the display of power destabilizing in the center of the room, the Inquisitor sprinted forward, drawing his sword and charging to take Alexius out for good. But, from the corner of his eye as he wrestled with his own son, Alexius spotted the elf’s attack. He managed to get a hand free from Felix, commanding the talisman to explode with a magical fury of light spiritual wisps, imploding inward on itself, sucking the Inquisitor in as he screamed in agony, his every essence torn across time and space. Cullen and the Templars watched on in abject horror, Lavellan’s blood curdling cries echoing in their minds.

Though the Inquisitor was gone, his blade continued his momentum, flying across the room and driving directly into Alexius’s shoulder, causing him to tumble off Felix and crash onto the stone floor.

“Venatori! Attack the Inquisitor’s reinforcements!!” Alexius hollered as he stumbled off to his escape.

“Retreat!” Cullen commanded, tailing Barris and the rest of the Templars as they fled, defending them against attacks from behind as they fought through the Venatori hoard before them.

Once there was a hole in the opposition’s defense, Cullen called out, “To the watchtower! Tell them to fire on the river! Shoot anything that moves!”

The Commander fought off those trying to prevent their escape, helping his team push to the ruin entrance. When they reached the threshold, each member jumped back onto their horses, galloping off to the watchtower and the camp just beyond Redcliffe Farms for backup.

“Open fire! Venatori!” Barris yelled to the watchtower guards. A shower of arrows came down almost instantly, flying just behind their horses, taking out many of the Venatori swordsmen. But the mages hadn’t left the mouth of the ruin, and Cullen was right there waiting for them. Dodging the hail of arrows and trying not to fall off the short cliff, Cullen fought back as many of the mages as he could while he waited for backup from the camp. Barris came riding back in just in time to save Cullen’s back from an attack he didn’t see coming.

As their numbers dwindled, it became easier for the Templars to dispel almost all the defensive magicks the Venatori were using, causing the remaining few mages to panic and retreat back into the ruin, following Alexius’s escape route.

Exhausted, but still on edge, Cullen and Barris’s Templars made their way back to the farm to regroup and process what had just happened. What had happened to the Inquisitor?

As they rounded the corner to check on the guards at the watchtower, Cullen heard footsteps running up behind them.

“There’s a straggler!” He called out, pulling out his sword and shield again, ready to strike.

“No, don’t shoot! I want to help you!”

Cullen stayed poised as he watched the man come into view. It was Felix, panting and running toward them, unarmed.

“What did you do with the Inquisitor?!” Cullen inched closer to Felix, still not convinced he could let his guard down.

Felix stopped several feet away, leaving enough room so Cullen felt unthreatened. He raised his hands above his head to show he meant no harm. “He’s not dead, I can promise that much, but I don’t know where he is.” His hands lowered as he scratched his chin in contemplation. “Well, that’s not quite what I mean. I know where he is; he’s here.”

Cullen’s sword and shield lowered and he looked at Felix with confusion.

“What I should say is: I don’t know when he is.”

Frustrated, Cullen ground his teeth, “Enough being cryptic! Just tell us where Alexius took him!”

Felix shook his head. “This is going to take a lot of explaining, and it will sound outlandish, but you have to believe me. I was there when my father and Dorian developed this, I know how it—”

“Spit it out!” Barris barked, now standing next to Cullen, also ready to fight.

Felix sighed, “He sent the Inquisitor through time.”

The Templars looked around at each other, none having heard of such magic before.

“Don’t lie to us, boy! We have you surrounded.” Barris raised his shield in preparation before his arm was pushed down.

“He isn’t,” Cullen held Barris back, then sheathing his own weapon and shield. “When we first suspected Dorian was Tevinter, Leliana found the letter we all read in the mission briefing. The letter was written by Felix, and he said the magic they were experimenting with was magic no one had ever considered manipulating before. Because it’s dangerous; one doesn’t just mess with the laws of nature.”

“You saw my letter? To Dorian’s father? So that’s how you knew of me, and that I know Dorian.” Felix approached slowly as he connected the dots. “So you must see now: Dorian knew he was developing a way to manipulate time, but he thought it was for me. He ran away, here to Ferelden, the moment my father started to speak of joining the Venatori. And he would never have helped in the first place if it wasn’t a matter of life and death.”

Cullen looked Felix up and down, taking in his thin frame, eaten away at by something inside of him. “You said in there that you’re sick. Is it really the Blight? I’ve never seen anyone survive past a day, let alone a year.”

Felix nodded sadly, eyes going even darker, “Yes. While my father is no healer, he is an excellent alchemist, and created many medicines to try and help me while he worked on a more permanent solution to curing me. That’s when he…recruited Dorian to help. It was more like blackmail, but Dorian just wanted to help me.” He looked down at his hands, wringing them nervously. “He was like a brother to me. He never knew this would happen.”

Barris lowered his weapons completely, but would not sheath them. “Then…did you send Dorian to the Inquisition?”

Felix’s eyes went wide, “No, I never even knew he joined. I haven’t been able to contact him for months. It was too risky, I couldn’t have my father knowing I planned to stop him. Dorian always said he would be by my side on that day, But after we lost touch…”

Cullen felt his shoulders relax; Dorian wasn’t Venatori! What a relief. But he felt no relief, as just as the revelation swept over him, another realization came to tighten his chest. He drove Dorian away for nothing. He broke the mage’s heart, and his own, based on assumptions.

“I never let him say his piece…” Cullen thought aloud.

“What?” Barris turned to him, finally putting his weapons away. “You spoke to Dorian? When?”

Cullen wiped a hand over his face before glancing over to Felix. “It looks like the two of us have a lot of explaining to do.”

__________

As they rode their horses back to Skyhold, Barris in the lead and Cullen protecting the rear of the group, Felix tapped Cullen’s shoulder from behind.

“Cullen, is it? Could I ask you something?” Felix said as he shifted uncomfortably on the back of Cullen’s saddle.

“You’ll call me Commander until we know we can trust you.”

“I didn’t mean any disrespect, Commander, I assure you.”

Cullen had to stop himself from groaning. He would have liked to say he was angry, but the only thing jumping around in his mind was confusion. The only thing he was angry about was his decision. And frankly, he was tired of thinking about it. He was only making himself feel worse.

“Just ask your question.”

Felix nodded and asked, “I hadn’t heard from Dorian after his initial letter telling me he had arrived in Ferelden. I’m missing a lot of time between then and now. Could you tell me what happened that led to you believing Dorian was Venatori?”

Cullen heaved a deep sigh, “It’s not a short list of events, I’ll warn you.”

Felix chuckled, “We’ve nothing but time at the moment.”

“I suppose,” Cullen half-heartedly agreed.

When he finished catching Felix up to speed, the young man was silent for a long while, mulling over the details.

“It sounds like Dorian trusted you.” He prodded.

Cullen dropped his gaze to the reins in his tightly fisted hands. “I know I trusted him. I thought he had betrayed my trust when we intercepted his father’s letter, but I…” He squeezed his eyes closed, “I said things I wish I hadn’t. Things I didn’t mean. I know now that I betrayed him, just because I wouldn’t listen.”

“I still can’t believe you spoke to him before he vanished.” Barris chimed in from the front of the formation. “You lied to the entire Inquisition! Even your friends. That’s me I’m talking about, by the way. You lied to me.”

“I know.” Cullen sighed, “I’m sorry. I just…wanted to make sure he was safe. I didn’t know what the Inquisitor would do to him. But I guess it couldn’t have been much worse than what I did…” Cullen’s voice fell off as he remembered all the things he said.

I don’t ever want to see your face again…

Entering Skyhold’s gate led them directly into a crowd of people wanting to congratulate the Inquisitor on defeating the hidden Venatori forces. But when Cullen passed under the arch and into the courtyard with the Inquisitor’s empty horse led behind him, all the chattering stopped.

“Where is Lavellen?” Cassandra asked with worry. And as Cullen’s horse turned to reveal the second passenger, “And who is that?” She growled.

Cullen lowered himself off the horse, pointedly not offering Felix any help to get down, which he did ungracefully.

As he handed the reins off to a stable hand, Cullen told the Seeker, “Call a war meeting.”

__________

“You WHAT?” The ladies exclaimed in unison.

Cullen drug a hand over his face, leaning on the war table and sighing before he said, “I know it was stupid of me, but Dorian isn’t Venatori, so there’s no danger in him being out there on his own.”

“But you didn’t know that when you sent him away!” Josephine shouted, as much as the mild-mannered woman could.

“Look,” Cullen closed his eyes tightly, pinching the space between his brows, “I lied. I lied to all of you and put you in danger because I let myself get too close. I considered Dorian a friend. I didn’t want him to be in danger in the hands of the Inquisition. I’m sorry. I know I was reckless, and I’m sorry.”

The room fell quiet as the women looked to one another, silently acknowledging Cullen’s apology.

Cullen continued after recognizing the soft looks in their eyes. “But what we need to do now is find him. He’s the only one who might know how to get Lavellen back.”

“Dorian can reverse engineer a spell better than anyone I’ve ever met,” Felix added, “He’ll be able to undo this. I’m certain.”

“Well, mister ‘best friend’,” Leliana turned to Felix, annoyed that he had cut in, “Where do you propose we start our search?”

Felix took a second to think. “In his initial letter, to tell me he had arrived, Dorian mentioned he was staying with an older woman in the Hinterlands. He simply called her ‘Miss Ella’. She has a small farm, he said. I haven’t heard from him since then, so that would be my only guess.”

Cullen nodded, “Even if he’s not staying with her, he might be hiding out nearby. Runaways tend to return to places they know first.”

“I trust your ability to hunt down a mage, Commander.” Cassandra said, too dry to tell if she was joking.

But before the hunt could begin, all of Skyhold needed rest and time to absorb the news of the Inquisitor’s disappearance. No rest came to Cullen, however; as if he expected it to. His mind and heart were racing. What if they couldn’t find Dorian? Who would be able to bring back the Inquisitor?

And what if they did find Dorian? Would he forgive Cullen for what he had said? Would he attack or flee?

Worst of all: what if they found his body? Just another casualty of the war between the Templars and mages. Another victim to Corypheus’s forces.

Cullen squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head to clear the image from his mind. He couldn’t bear the thought that his final words to Dorian would be his banishment, never able to redeem himself. Never able to beg for Dorian’s forgiveness.

With his eyes still closed, Cullen heard footsteps drawing casually closer, not trying to sneak, but also cautious.

“Can’t sleep either?” the voice was still slightly distant, not wanting to get too close. Cullen opened his eyes to see Felix, immediately skeptical as to why he was being allowed to walk the castle on his own.

Felix read his expression and chuckled. “Your spymaster has someone tailing me. The Lady Seeker isn’t far behind either. You don’t have to worry, I’m not here to assassinate you or something.”

“Who knows, I might welcome it at this point,” Cullen said under his breath.

Felix’s brow pushed together, “What happened between you and Dorian?”

After a long moment of staring through Felix, the Commander dropped his gaze to his folded fingers leaning on the battlements. “He was incredible to watch. So skilled with magic and combat; it was mesmerizing.” Cullen lifted his head to look up at the stars above. “And intelligent, as well. I enjoyed talking with him about the books he was reading, and the documents I was trudging through. He never looked away while I spoke.”

Felix gave a soft smile, looking to the heavens himself. “I know exactly what you mean. Dorian loves to talk about his research and learn what others have been studying. It made him a great student, one of the reasons he caught my father’s attention as a sponsor.”

A silence fell between the men as they both remembered their friend fondly. Cullen quietly asked, “Can you tell me about the Dorian you knew?”

Felix cocked his head curiously.

“I’d like to know if any of him was the real him.”

A sympathetic smile warmed Felix’s expression. “You described Dorian pretty perfectly just then. Always willing to debate—or argue, whichever he would get the most satisfaction from—and always showing off. He pretends to be self-centered, but he’s the most caring man I’ve ever met. And while I’m not interested in men myself, I don’t think there’s a person in all of Thedas who can deny Dorian’s charm.” Felix chuckled once, “Always the flirt, that one.”

Cullen’s heart dropped. “So he flirted with everyone?” He asked in a whisper, not really meaning it as a question. But Felix still answered.

“He did, but there were always different kinds. It took me long to learn each of them.” Feeling more comfortable with their relations, Felix approached the battlements himself and leaned his hip on the stonework, crossing his arms and looking out over the mountains. “There are four types, so far as I could tell: for showmanship, for de-escalation, for banter, and for real. The showmanship is self-explanatory, Tevinter is built around relationships and marriages. Dorian had to faine interest in his women suitors to keep up appearances. De-escalation, just flirting to calm an argument. Telling people what they want to hear, you know. And of course a little flattery back and forth between friends was his favorite.”

“How could you tell if he ever meant it?” Cullen asked, hopeful.

Felix ran a hand over his hair as he thought. “Dorian is a very honest man, most of what he says he always means, even if he doesn’t say it directly. He might think a noble woman is quite pretty, for example, and rather than tell her flatly, he will go out of his way to make her smile by flirting. ‘By the Black Divine, my lady, have you any common blood to Andraste herself? You have striking eyes, just like hers! And those cheekbones, they could surely cut marble!’ He likes to make people smile.”

“And he’s very good at it,” Cullen couldn’t help the fond grin that spread his lips.

“That he is.” Felix agreed, finding himself with a smile of his own as he reminisced.

__________

Cullen stood silent with his head down, fist poised to knock against the solid wood door before him. He hadn’t had to do something like this since Kirkwall; sharing the tragic news of a Templar’s death with their family. Somehow, this felt similar, having to tell someone Dorian clearly cared about, that he wasn’t who he said. But at least he didn’t have to tell her Dorian was a Venatori spy.

He took a final deep breath before giving a hardy knock. It took only seconds for Miss Ella to answer, like she had been waiting by the door. The door swung open with an audible whoosh, to reveal an older woman with joy in her cheeks, giving way to pleasant confusion when he looked Cullen up and down.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I was expecting someone else. Is there something I can do for you, dear?” A sweet smile wrinkled the skin around her eyes.

Cullen couldn’t help but give a small smile back before clearing his throat and beginning to explain, “Commander Cullen, at your service, ma’am. We are looking for a troop previously employed in our…”

Cullen’s eyes squeezed tightly shut and he sighed, “Dorian. He stayed with you for a while, didn’t he?” He dropped his voice to a whisper so the others couldn’t hear his informality.

Miss Ella reared back a little, bringing the door closer to her so she could close it at any time. “I...oh, I rent my spare room to travelers, I suppose a ‘Dorian’ could have passed through--”

“Ma’am, please. You’re not in any trouble. Neither of you are, we just…” He couldn’t look the sweet woman in the eyes as he said, “I made a mistake. It came to our attention that he had been lying about his past, and I handled it very poorly. If he’s been back here...please, we need his help.”

Miss Ella still didn’t seem convinced, opening her lips to give a vague excuse. Cullen decided to show a little urgency.

“Ma’am, the Inquisitor is missing. Kidnapped, or otherwise incapacitated by the Venatori.”

Miss Ella gasped, covering her mouth with both hands. “Did...did he do it?”

“No, while Dorian is from Tevinter, as we found out, he has nothing to do with the Venatori. But he knows about their magic, and we need him to help us get the Inquisitor back.”

She took a moment to process before stepping aside in the doorway and beckoning them all to enter. Cullen, Felix, and Cassandra crammed into the small farmhouse, while Barris and his templars waited outside. Only Felix accepted an offer of tea.

“He did come back, but he didn’t come inside,” Miss Ella recalled as he stirred honey into Felix’s tea. “He made it nearly to the welcome mat, but no further, and said he was sorry. That he couldn’t stay because I wouldn’t be safe, and it was better if he kept the truth to himself, because he didn’t want to involve me. I figured he must have people after him, so I was expecting a visit, but not from the Inquisition.”

Tempted to sit, but ignoring the urge to slump into any nearby furniture, Cullen rubbed at the back of his neck, “Yes, well, while I’m not at liberty to say much, I made a rather large mistake that--”

“To which are you referring?” Cassandra asked with her arms crossed, scowl doned.

Cullen glowered back and continued, “...that put us all in danger. Dorian included.”

Cassandra let her arms drop, brow softening as she recognized Cullen’s regret.

“Well, as I said, he didn’t stay here long. He headed in the direction of Redcliffe, not taking the roads but going through the woods.”

They stayed long enough for Felix to finish his tea, then they were on their way north to Redcliffe, taking as odd a way they could in hopes of coming across Dorian’s trail.

After nearly an hour of trudging, one of Barris’s templars stopped.

“I smell viel fire.”

Cassandra looked at Cullen with a quirked brow. “Are you certain? How can you tell it isn’t just fire?”

Barris nodded, “I smell it too. It’s like fire but without the smoke, just the heat.”

“Any wards?” Cullen asked.

“None. It shouldn’t be hard to find him if we follow our noses.”

Cullen nodded, letting Barris lead the charge. Soon after, the group came across a very small clearing, staying in the trees to keep cover.

There in the center of the brush, surrounded by wildflowers, sat Dorian, playing with the green flames before him, deep in thought.

Cullen stared longingly, wishing he could just run out and hug the mage, hold him and never let go.

“I’ll go. You all wait here.” Cullen began pushing branches aside.

“You don’t think he’ll give you any trouble?” Barris held him back.

“No, but he will panic if he sees a group of templars coming out of the bushes at him.”

Cullen took a deep breath for courage and stepped out into the sun.

It only took a few steps before Dorian shot out of his seat and grabbed his staff, summoning a ball of fire in his hand. Cullen put his hands up, away from his sword and shield. Slowly, Dorian recognized the blond hair, honey eyes, and marble skin. His guard lowered along with his staff, but only slightly.

“C...Cullen?”

Cullen let out a sigh of relief, lowering his hands and taking a step forward.

“Stop!” Dorian yelled, “This is some kind of trick isn’t it? So what type of demon are you, hm? Rage? Envy? Desire?”

Cullen’s eyes went wide before his brow furrowed with worry, “No, Dorian it’s...it’s me. It’s Cullen.”

Dorian scoffed, “No, that’s not possible. He told me he never…” he swallowed hard. “never wanted to see me again.”

Cullen flinched at his words, seeing how much they had hurt. “I didn’t mean any of it, I swear. I was just scared, I didn’t think before I spoke, and I hurt you. I’m...Dorian, I’m so sorry.”

Cullen watched as emotions came and went in rapid succession across Dorian’s face.

“Make me believe you.” The mage whispered. “Prove you're the same man I loved.”

Those words. They struck him like a knife in the chest, tearing his heart out. Those were his words.

“I can’t…” Cullen whispered back.

Dorian’s staff fell abruptly into the grass, the fire in his hand disappearing into embers as he ran to Cullen. He wrapped his arms around the blond’s shoulders, Cullen returning the embrace just as tightly.

They pulled back, only to bring the other closer into a crashing kiss, tears spilling over onto both men’s cheeks.

“Dorian,” Cullen choked, “I’m so sorry, I said so many things I didn’t mean. I should have listened to you. Maker, I’m so--”

Dorian put a finger to the blond’s lips, then brought his to meet them. “I love you.”

Cullen’s eyes only watered more as he leaned their foreheads together and said, with all his heart. “I love you too.”

They both heard the trees opening from behind them, glancing that way to see Cassandra and Barris with his band of templars.

And Felix.

Dorian’s face lit up as he ran to meet his friend. “Felix!”

Their chests collided as each man wrapped an arm over the shoulder and around the waist of the other.

While the two were updating one another on what had happened between seeing each other last, Cassandra approached Cullen with an annoyed huff.

"So that's why you let him go." She crossed her arms.

Cullen sighed, turning to face her. "Yes," he stated, "because I didn't want him thrown in our prisons, because I didn't want him questioned for hours without rest. Because I love him. Is that what you want me to say?"

The corner of the Seeker's lips turned up on one side, barely a smile at all. She placed her hand on Cullen’s shoulder. "Yes. And I'm glad you do."

It took him off guard, but Cullen was grateful for Cassandra's understanding. He knew she read those romance novels--Varric made sure to boast about it to everyone in Skyhold--but he never expected Cassandra of all people to be forgiving.

Suddenly her face went stern. Pulling her hand away and pointing a finger, she whispered through clenched teeth, "Don't tell anyone I said that. As far as Josephine and Leliana need to know, I'm still angry with you."

Cullen tried not to grin as he nodded.

He turned back to Dorian and Felix who laughed together as Dorian placed a kiss to Felix's cheek. Cullen smiled as he watched them reconnect, a warmth filling his chest.

"I hate to interrupt a reunion," Barris cut in, "but we have grave news about the Inquisitor."

"The Inquisitor?" Dorian looked to Felix, "Your father. He didn't…"

Felix cringed as he nodded, head dropping, eyes closed tightly.

Dorian slumped, arm falling off Felix's shoulders. Cullen came behind him to place a comforting hand on his back.

"He's not dead, is he?" Dorian asked with a heaviness in his breath.

"We...we don't know." Cullen brought Dorian in by the waist, hugging him from the side. "Alexius used an amulet to...send him through time, was it?" He looked over to Felix to make sure he had gotten it right.

"So he finished it." Dorian's eyes widened with fear.

"No!" Felix put himself between Cullen and the mage, "He could never perfect it after you left. Something went wrong when he cast the spell; it wasn't like when you did it."

"You've traveled through time?" Cullen pushed Felix aside to ask Dorian.

Dorian grinned, "What? Never been with a man who invented time travel? Oh, no, of course not, how silly. Because I invented it."

"Dorian." Cullen said sternly, looking for a straight answer.

"No, I didn't go through time. Alexius and I sent an apple core a week forward in time and it came back rotten." As he gave the explanation, a wave of realization washed over Dorian, "But what's when the spell didn't work!" He grabbed Cullen but the hands with excitement. "The plan was to wipe the apple from existence, and only those who cast the spell would remember there ever having been an apple there. The fact that you all remember the Inquisitor proves the spell failed!"

"But how do we know where--when he is?" Barris asked, trying to keep up.

Dorian let go of Cullen's hands to twirl his mustache in thought. "Ah! Have you any paper, my love?"

Cullen grabbed some parchment and charcoal from one of the templars' satchels.

Dorian took the supplies eagerly, kneeling down to use his seat as a writing surface. "Look here," Dorian pulled Cullen in close as he drew a diagram, "We don't know when the Inquisitor is in time, yes? But we do know where. He'll be exactly where he was transported from."

Cullen nodded, following so far.

"So we need to go back to where and, somehow, enter the fade because--"

"Because time doesn't exist in the fade." Cullen cut in, "You can feel for his spirit and pull it back through the veil from the other side of time!"

Dorian smiled, excited that Cullen understood, "Well, I can't. While I studied the dead, I don't have any control over the spirits I use to possess the bodies. But I know someone who does."

"Solas." Cullen, Barris, and Cassandra said together.

__________

Back at Skyhold, they explained the plan to Solas, Cullen's fellow advisors still suspiciously eyeing Dorian.

"I'm impressed with your knowledge of the fade, Dorian. Yet you've never entered it, is that right?" Solas sipped at his coffee.

"I still have my sanity, that should be a dead give away."

Solas grinned, "Indeed. And yet you understand its properties well. And this plan of yours is nearly fool proof."

"Nearly?" Cullen leaned in, "We need better than nearly. We need the Inquisitor back."

Solas held up a hand to calm him, "Nearly is the best place to start. I can help you, but the Inquisitor's spirit isn't the only thing on the other side of time. We need to find his body. Both were transported, were they not?"

Dorian nodded, "Yes, that's where I'm uncertain. Can he enter the fade without performing the ritual himself?"

"Do you know the Arl of Redcliffe, Commander?" Solas asked, hands behind his back as he rounded the desk.

"You're talking about the incident with Conor and Bann Tegan. I've heard the story." He watched Solas with suspicious curiosity.

"I am. There is a way to perform the ritual on another, without entering the fade yourself…"

Cullen's eyes went wide, "No! No one is doing any blood magic!"

"Blood magic?" Dorian looked to Solas with anger. "You're suggesting I perform a blood ritual on the Inquisitor? Nonsense!"

Solas shrugged, "That is the only way I know of to return both the Inquisitor's soul and body as one."

Dorian scratched his chin as he tried to think of another way. "If I had the amulet here…"

Felix perked up, "What if I could get it from my father?"

The room looked over to Felix.

"What? Is it safe after what you did to help us?" Cullen asked.

Felix shook his head, "My father may not be in his right mind, but he's always been a father first. If I need him, he will be there with open arms."

Dorian slowly walked to Felix. "You'd steal from your own father for us?"

Felix smiled, "I would steal sweets from his personal stash for you all the time."

Dorian smiled and gave him a hardy thump on the shoulder. "Then we need to head back to Dead Ram Grove."

The day had been long and exhausting, and while time was of the essence, they all needed rest.

But Cullen couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned in an attempt to find a comfortable spot, but to no avail. Finally, he decided it wasn't worth fighting and went for a walk to think.

He walked the battlements until he was sick of looking at stone walls. When he got back to his office, no more ready to sleep than before, he thought of Dorian, how he had so much more he wanted to say, and so many more apologies to make.

Heading across the bridge to the library, Cullen tried to be as quiet as possible opening the door to Solas's floor. The door creaked ever so slightly, and Cullen heard a calming voice say, "Dorian is downstairs."

He looked up to see Solas painting a mural of the fade on the atrium wall.

"Oh I was just…" Cullen started, but Solas gave him a knowing look. "Thank you." He said gently as he headed for the main hall's staircase to the basement.

Once down there, he saw a soft red light emitting from a door across the hall, where a small private office was. He smiled as he heard Dorian quietly talking to himself.

Cullen pushed the door open silently, seeing Dorian's back facing him. He snuck up and wrapped his arms around the mage’s waist. Dorian gasped before realizing who it was, then leaning his head back and humming in contentment.

"Couldn't sleep either?" Cullen asked in a breathy whisper.

Dorian sighed, "I have to know what I'm doing when I reverse the amulet's magic, if Felix can get it off his father. If we can find his father. Hopefully they've stayed put."

Cullen hummed, acknowledging Dorian's concerns. "I wish we had more time, then you could perfect this."

Dorian turned in Cullen's arms and wrapped his around the Commander's neck.

"I wish we had more time, too." He looked deeply into Cullen's eyes, leaving the silence between them.

Cullen quickly caught on, walking Dorian into the desk, lifting him by the thighs to sit atop it. "We have a couple of hours, at least."

Dorian smiled, bringing Cullen in for a light kiss. It quickly became something more, with hot hands finding fasteners on the other's armor and unfastening them. Their kiss turned deep and passionate and nearly frantic as the men wasted little precious time.

Dorian leaned back and pulled Cullen over him, holding him close as he whispered between kisses, "I never stopped loving you. I couldn't make myself stop after you told me to go. You had me."

Cullen kissed down Dorian's neck as he whispered back, "I thought it was just me. And I need you to know I only sent you away because I was scared. I didn't know what the Inquisition would do to you. I was only upset you'd lied to me."

"But you know why I had to." Dorian held Cullen by the cheeks to get his attention. "Would you have wanted me if I had told you I was a Tevinter necromancer."

Cullen pulled the mage’s hand back and kissed his palm, "I want you now, don't I?"

Dorian's words were thick with need as he whispered, "Do you?"

"More than anything."

And the love they made in the night, in a private tucked away space, far from the eyes and ears of Skyhold, was more than either man had felt in many years. Possibly all their lives.

__________

Cullen smiled as he rode alongside Dorian's horse, listening to him and Felix reminisce. They had a long history, from what Cullen gathered, and cared for each other like brothers. It felt good to see Dorian as his true self, and not a bundle of half truths peeking out from behind an alias.

The group was much larger this time, with closer to fifteen templars, including Barris, along with the addition of Solas and a handful of other mages. Cullen was grateful for the help, even if it meant spending time with Solas, trying desperately to find something to talk about.

When the team arrived, they tied their horses up at the camp near Master Dennet's stables and took off on foot toward Dead Ram Grove, signaling the watch tower to stay on guard.

At the entrance to the cave, Cullen took Dorian's hand and squeezed tightly while giving him a worried look. Dorian smiled gently, squeezing back. Cullen nodded and signaled the group into formation and forward. It was still dark, but with several mages summoning flames into their palms, they would be able to see any ambushes this time.

The team stepped cautiously into the final room of the cave where the Inquisitor had been torn through time. It was quiet, with the scattered corpses of Venatori from their failed attack on Cullen’s crew. Dorian winced as he saw the familiar clothing of his homeland, not happy to be fighting his countrymen.

Cullen looked to Dorian with concern, wordlessly asking if he was alright. Dorian nodded and continued on, reminding himself these men chose this path.

After glancing around the room, everyone turned to face Cullen with disappointed looks.

"There's no one here. How are we going to bring the Inquisitor back without that amulet?" One of the mages asked.

Dorian bit his lip as he thought.

Before he could come up with anything, Felix spoke up. "No, there must be another way out of here. My father didn't head for the entrance when he retreated, he went further in."

Cullen nodded, "That's right, everyone look around! There must be--"

Dorian placed his hands on the wall at the back of the cave and closed his eyes, reciting a spell quietly.

Before anyone could ask what he was planning, the wall dissolved away, revealing a laboratory and a barely conscious Alexius breathing heavily on the ground, books scattered where he sat.

"Father!" Felix rushed to his side as he pulled bandages from his bag. Alexius’s wounds were deep and unhealed, but not from Lavellan's sword, which laid across his lab table, still coated in blood.

"My son," Alexius’s voice was incredibly weak, sounding more like air than words.

Felix began applying pressure to his father's rotting wound, exposed flesh healed open.

"We have healers here, just hold on," he said even as the healers shook their heads, wounds too old to fix.

Dorian approached with caution, nerves rising at seeing his old mentor again. He stepped into view just as Alexius looked up.

"The Venatori," he wheezed, "they left me, abandoned me. Told...told the Elder One I failed them."

Felix's eyes began to well up with tears, "They were using you, father, just like you used Dorian. They wanted your magic, that was all."

Tears tugged at the edges of Alexius’s eyes as well, as he admitted, "The Elder One...Corypheus...he came to take the amulet, tried to kill me. But...but I…"

He began to cough and sputter, blood leaking from his nose and mouth. He tightly grabbed Felix's hand, holding on with all his strength as he gasped and panted for air.

The air was stagnant, musty and old. Without a draft present, Dorian and Felix could feel as Alexius’s last breath escaped his chest and hit their skin.

Felix sat back on his hunches, eyes glazed, staring down at their entwined hands.

Dorian looked away and closed his eyes tightly.

A long silence hovered in the room, Dorian's hand gripping Felix's shoulder to comfort him. He looked down at his hand, still clasped in his father's, and felt something heavy and cold kiss his palm. He pulled his father's hand away to find the amulet, pulsating and smooth, as if never used.

"Crafty bastard," Dorian said as he lookes at the amulet in pristine condition. "He repaired it, but not perfectly. The way the magic is calibrated, it should work in reverse."

Dorian looked from the Inquisitor's sword to the books scattered on the floor.

"He was going to bring Lavellan back and try again."

"Maker's sake," Felix dropped his head into his hands.

"It's already 'calibrated' to bring him back? That saves us some time, doesn't it?" Cullen looked to Solas for confirmation.

"I am unfamiliar with time magic. I believe everyone to be, except for Dorian." Solas gestured from Dorian to confirm.

He nodded, taking the amulet from Felix and looking it over for imperfections. "Indeed it does. So long as he's done it correctly."

Dorian began work on his spell with the mages silently watching on. Though he had asked them not to, they often asked questions, to which the usual reply was, "This is time altering magic, you know. Let's not forget the danger of this."

When they began to ask too many questions they wouldn't get an answer to, Cullen stepped in and shooed them away. After they scattered, Cullen placed a hand on the small of Dorian's back, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around the man from behind. He wanted nothing more than to rest his head on Dorian’s shoulder and close his eyes. And when he would open them, the Inquisitor would be there unscathed and everything would be normal.

Cullen heaved a deep sigh at the thought, Dorian turning to look at him with concern.

"Something the matter, amatus?"

"Who?" Cullen asked, not really having absorbed the question.

Dorian chuckled, "You, silly. Are you alright?"

Cullen shook his head slightly, eyes closed, "No. I mean, yes, it's nothing, just...who is Amatus?"

Dorian rolled his eyes, wrapping his arms around Cullen’s neck. "It's Tevene, a term of endearment like 'honey or 'dear'." A smirk came to his lips as Cullen scolded himself for sounding jealous.

"Sorry, I'm just nervous about this whole situation. I didn't mean to…" Cullen trailed off.

Dorian pressed a nimble finger to his lips. "It's alright, I'm nervous too. This is something I've never done, never even considered having to do. But it will turn out. The Inquisitor will be fine, I promise."

Cullen stared with anxious eyes for a long moment, "That's an awfully confident promise."

Dorian's calm smile faltered ever so slightly, but Cullen caught it, placing a warm ungloved palm to the mage's cheek. "I trust you, Dorian, but it's not your fault if he doesn't come back."

Dorian cringed, "This has all been my fault. If I had just been honest from the beginning--"

"Stop." Cullen leaned forward to silence him with a kiss, forgetting the others around them. "Hunting down the Venatori has been our goal this entire time. This may have happened eventually, you couldn't have changed this."

Dorian nodded, lips still so close to Cullen's. "You're right, I know you are, but I would feel much better if I could bring him back."

Dorian grabbed the calibrated amulet and a tome off the lab table, breaking free of Cullen's embrace and moving toward the center of the room to prepare the ritual.

Solas stood from his crouched position, holding out his hands to take Dorian's completed spell.

"The most difficult bit will be leaving the fade at the same time you entered. Make certain you do not interrupt the flow of time." Solas warned as he started casting.

Dorian looked to Cullen one last time before a green and yellow tear opened before him and he stepped through.

Hours passed and still Dorian hadn't returned with the Inquisitor. Cullen paced the room along with the mages, while Solas maintained meditation in the center of the room, waiting for the beckon call.

He couldn't take the suspense any longer. Cullen gingerly walked near and around Solas to see if he could still hear him. Solas coldly spoke, quiet and even, "I am entirely aware of my surroundings outside the fade, Commander."

It made Cullen jump at first. He then asked, "Are you...in there with them? Can you help them?"

Solas stayed completely still with his eyes closed and legs crossed as he responded, "No, I cannot. I am simply suspending my mind in the fade, but I am not there as they are. They went in physically, body and spirit as one. I would have gone in myself and done this more quickly, but alas, there must be someone on the other side to pull the Inquisitor back through. Dorian has an excellent understanding of time, but the fade can disorient even the brightest minds."

None of this made Cullen feel any better, or more confident that they were safe. "But can you see them? Are they alright?"

Solas sighed, annoyed at having to dumb things down, "Dorian and the Inquisitor have made contact. I can sense their spirits near one another, but I cannot see anything. Were I there, I could use my senses. I am not, however, so I must feel for their souls. I know not where they are in time, or how they fair."

Cullen grunted in frustration. Why did he expect a clear answer?

A short while passed and Solas began to rise, grabbing his staff again. "Everyone stay back, the tear could pull you in!"

Everyone scattered to the edges of the room, watching in astonishment as Solas tore the veil open, Dorian and the Inquisitor stumbling through back into the 'real' world, haggard and panting.

Cullen approached slowly as the tear sealed behind them. When Dorian locked eyes with him, he ran into the Commander's arms.

"Cullen," he whispered in his ear, breathy and shaking, "Thank the Maker, it's you"

Cullen returned the embrace but was still confused. "Yes, it's really me. What happened? Are you alright?"

The rest of the room rushed to the Inquisitor's aid, healers starting to mend cuts and bruises and wrap them gently but with urgency.

Dorian pulled back to look Cullen in the eyes, tears nearly falling onto his cheeks. "Time moves differently. I hoped we would be out in a few days, but it's been weeks, maybe months for us. Lavellan said he'd been sent into the future and stuck there for nearly a year. I can't begin to imagine…"

Dorian shuttered and pulled Cullen close again, Cullen shushing him softly, running calloused fingers over his hair.

__________

Back at Skyhold, a crowd waited anxiously at the base of the steps from the main hall, nervous chatter rumbling through them. The Inquisitor was in his chambers, healers and templars looking him over, a scholar begging him to recount his experience.

Cullen and his fellow advisors took deep breaths before opening the doors of the main hall and descending the steps until they reached the middle landing.

"People of the Inquisition!" Cassandra shouted over the chatter, "The Inquisitor is safe and in good health!"

The crowd sighed a collective sigh of relief as they applauded.

Cullen smiled as he added, "All thanks to the brave and valiant efforts of the templars," they raised their swords from within the crowd, people cheering. "Our mages," they raised their staves as well, Solas smiling as he bowed his head.

"And lastly, this man." Cullen held out his hand, inviting Dorian from the front of the crowd to join him. "This man, who joined with you as a troop, rose quickly through our ranks with his impressive display of magical knowledge; who joined the Inquisitor in the field, and contributed to the important research done in our library."

Dorian was already stunned as he stood above all the people of Skyhold, but Cullen took both hands in his, and faced him full on. "This man, who risked his reputation, his place in the Inquisition, and ultimately his own life, to return the Inquisitor to us from beyond time. Dorian Pavus."

Felix, standing at the front, looked up to Dorian from within the crowd and shouted, "To Dorian!" The crowd joined in with thanks, crying out with joy for their Herald’s great return, and the man who saved him. Dorian looked out over the crowd as they said his name, as they recognized him for all his deeds despite his lineage.

The good Tevinter.

He smiled as he turned to Cullen once again. "A tad overdue, if you ask me."

Cullen chuckled, "You're impossible."

Cullen pulled Dorian in for a long and tight hug, the crowd around them cheering for the Inquisitor. Cheering for the

#cullrian #cullen rutherford #dorian pavus #mulan au #cullrian au #da au #dragon age au #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #da #dai #long reads #slow burn #like really slow #but it picks up #disney au #disney inspired #writing #long fic

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clumsyclifford · 3 years ago

Note

you said i should say less about new ace content in general and i immediately understood that as say more so please gimme some ace stuff and please make it fluffy. i don't particularly care about the pairing but i'm always down for lashton and/or malum but any atl ship works for me as well so like just do your thing i guess wow that was a useless sentence this messy ask is further proof that i should go to sleep so bye love you!! -fiancee

well i ran with ace lashton in an interesting way i hope you enjoy it this is not based on real life but maybe it could be. in a better world it is. that’s all i’ll say about that, i hope you like it

read here on ao3

Luke likes going to the movies. He likes staying home and having a home-cooked meal. He likes quiet, simple, intimate activities.

He does not like parades.

“But it’s Pride,” Ashton wheedles. “D.C. Pride! One of the biggest pride events in the country!”

“You made that up, and I don’t care,” says Luke. “I don’t want to go. I don’t like parades.”

“It’s not really a parade.”

“Also not true.”

“Okay, but it’s not about the parade, it’s about the gathering,” Ashton says, gently shaking Luke. “It’s about a bunch of queer people all coming together and uniting in one space. Celebrating our differences and our similarities. Celebrating community.”

“That’s beautiful,” Luke says. Ashton looks hopeful. “Still no.”

Ashton huffs. “I don’t wanna go alone.”

“Go with Michael and Calum,” Luke suggests. “I’m sure they’d love for you to tag along.”

“And third-wheel all day? No thanks.”

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you,” Luke says, and carries on setting the table for dinner. If his mum comes home to a half-set table, the blame will fall on Luke, of course. Ashton takes the cue and begins laying out plates.

It’s quiet for a moment. Luke can tell Ashton is trying to come up with a way to convince him to go to Pride, but it won’t work. Luke’s avoided Pride for seventeen years. He doesn’t intend to start now. Staying at home with his boyfriend and watching Rent is about as much as Luke cares to celebrate Pride Month. Maybe they’ll make out a little. Standards are low.

“Okay, how about this,” Ashton says, and Luke sighs deeply. “No, hear me out. And keep an open mind, okay? Think about compromise.”

“I’m listening.”

“What if we go before the parade starts?”

Luke frowns. “Then what would be the point?”

“There will still be people there,” Ashton says. “But it won’t be nearly as many people, and the festivities won’t really be happening yet, so we can still say we went to Pride but we won’t get caught up in the whole big thing.”

“But I thought you wanted the whole big thing.”

“Ah, whatever,” Ashton says, waving him off. “I’d rather go with you than see the parade alone.”

Luke feels bad. It’s obviously important to Ashton, or else he’d have given up already on trying to make Luke go. And as much as Luke knows he shouldn’t feel obliged to prioritize Ashton’s wishes over his own comfort, this makes him want to.

Compromise. “Okay,” Luke says. “Fine.”

Ashton blinks. “Really?”

“Did you think that wouldn’t work?”

“I—” Ashton’s face breaks into a smile. “I don’t know, not really, to be honest. Really? You’ll come?”

“Yes,” Luke says, and the delight in Ashton’s face makes up for the dread pooling in Luke’s stomach.

Ashton shuffles around the table and presses a warm kiss to Luke’s cheek. “Thank you,” he says, warmth also bleeding into his voice. “I’m excited. You’re gonna like it.”

Probably not, but Luke keeps that thought to himself. He doesn’t need to rain on any more of Ashton’s parades.

Luke and Ashton are excited about Dupont Circle for different reasons. Ashton is basically vibrating out of his seat on the Metro as they approach their stop, where the parade is slated to begin at half past noon. It’s only eleven now, but that doesn’t seem to matter to Ashton. He seems confident that there will be enough Pride to satisfy his excitement without overwhelming Luke.

Luke’s just looking forward to the Krispy Kreme at the station.

They take the escalator out, and sure enough, there’s Krispy Kreme to the left. Luke grabs Ashton’s hand and yanks him towards the shop.

“Seriously? We’re at D.C. Pride and your priority is donuts?” Ashton says, but he allows Luke to tug him along until they’re at the door.

Luke turns to him and very seriously says, “Ashton, my priority is always donuts.”

“Yeah, that’s fair, I walked into that one,” Ashton mutters as they enter the store.

Five minutes and two donuts later, both of them exit, Luke munching contentedly on a strawberry-frosted donut (with sprinkles, of course) and Ashton carefully biting into his jelly-filled one.

“Okay, starting now, we’re at Pride, and you can’t be a Negative Nancy,” Ashton declares.

“I promise not to be a Negative Nancy,” Luke vows. “I swear on this donut.”

Ashton beams. “Yay! Okay let’s go explore.”

You’d think this was Ashton’s first Pride for how excited he gets over everything. He stops at almost every stand, even though they’re all selling different versions of the same thing, and somehow manages to spark up conversation with any passing person who looks queer and interesting. Luke loves this about Ashton, how charming and outgoing he is, how he could befriend a vaguely human-shaped plant. People are drawn to him; Luke’s no exception. Ashton is very much the main character, even more so because he doesn’t seem to know it. He's just Ashton, and Luke loves him for it. Even when it means the halo of Ashton’s spotlight draws attention to Luke by extension.

Luke is not a charming, outgoing person. Luke is quiet and reserved. He’s never cared for the spotlight. Sometimes it’s a good thing that he has Ashton to pull him out of his shell a little. Sometimes he wilts under the scrutiny. It's a toss-up, but Luke appreciates that Ashton never stops trying.

Most of the tables selling merch boast shirts, hats, flags — the kind of thing you’d wear or own if you wanted to be loud and proud about your identity. Luke’s not really that kind of person. Luke’s way of coming out is to subtly slip into the conversation the fact that he has a boyfriend. Before he had a boyfriend, it pretty much never came up. Big, colorful flags have never been his cup of tea.

And anyway, that’s only half of his identity. The other half never comes up, and Luke’s okay with that. It’s not like being ace is the kind of thing you can casually mention. It has to be a whole thing, every time, and Luke doesn’t want to deal with the whole thing, so he just doesn’t bother. Most of the time it doesn’t really matter. As much as Luke is able to fly under the radar, that’s what he intends to do.

“Hey, pins!”

Ashton is not like that.

“Luke, you like pins, right?”

The table they’ve stopped at is covered end-to-end with pins. Enamel or plastic, every single pride flag Luke has ever seen in his life is represented here, in a variety of shapes and sizes. The kaleidoscopic display is fun to look at, at least. There’s nobody behind the table at the moment, which means in theory it would be pretty easy to steal one, but Luke’s not like that, and even if he was he wouldn’t feel good stealing a pride pin from a small-business owner.

“I don’t really have an opinion,” says Luke.

“Ha,” Ashton says. “O-pin-ion. Haha.”

“I’m leaving you,” Luke says, turning away with a wry grin.

“No, come back.” Ashton grabs his wrist and pulls him closer, so Luke wraps an arm around his waist and rests his head on Ashton’s shoulder instead. “I like pins. They’re a very understated way of coming out.”

“Having a boyfriend is an understated way of coming out,” Luke replies.

"I resent you calling me understated," Ashton says in faux-indignance. Luke giggles.

“I’m so sorry, I had to run and grab some water,” says a voice, as a person bustles around them to stand behind the table. Their pink fringe is pushed back by a bandana and they’re wearing a jean jacket with so many pins and patches that the fabric is practically invisible. A sticker on the front pocket of the jacket introduces them as Alex, he/they :). “Can I help you with anything?”

“Just admiring the collection,” Ashton says brightly. “I love your jacket.”

“Thank you very much,” says Alex. “It’s been accumulating pins for about five years now.”

“Damn,” Ashton says, wolf-whistling. “That’s a good collection. I don’t have a good jacket for pins.”

“Wish I could tell you where I got mine, but it was a gift from my boyfriend,” Alex says. “I’ve heard thrifting is a good way to go.”

“You wanna go thrifting, Luke?” Ashton says, nudging Luke, who shrugs.

“Sure,” he says. He reaches for one of the asexual flag pins, a small enamel rectangle, and smoothes his thumb over the surface. “These are pretty nice.”

“You should buy it,” Ashton says. “Start a cool jacket. Then we could be matching.”

“You don’t have a cool jacket yet.”

“I know, but we could.”

“But neither of us have a cool jacket. So it’s not even—”

“Fine, ruin my fun,” Ashton harrumphs. To Alex, who’s watching them with amusement, Ashton says, “So how long have you and your boyfriend been together?”

“Oh, uh…” Alex’s gaze diverts to the air like he’s counting invisible numbers. “Six years? Almost? I think it’s gonna be six years in July.”

“Six years,” Ashton repeats in mild awe. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah, high school sweethearts, blah blah blah,” Alex says, smiling. They shrug. “Everyone thought we’d break up when we went to college, but when you know, you know. You know?”

Luke swallows. Ashton says, “Good for you. That’s impressive.”

“I like to think so,” Alex says. “What about you? Are you guys together?” He winces. “Should I not have asked that? I’m sorry, to be honest this is Jack’s business, I’m just running the stand because he wanted to go look around a little before the parade started. My boyfriend Jack, I mean. Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s all good,” Ashton says. He hip-checks Luke gently, which Luke takes to mean something like is it cool if I tell him? It’s nice that Ashton is asking, but Luke had kind of figured everyone would assume they were together because, you know, Pride, so he doesn’t really care.

“Yeah,” he says. “For, what, eight months?”

“Eight months,” Ashton confirms.

Alex grins. “That’s great, I love it. What are your names?”

“Ashton,” says Ashton. “He/him.”

“Luke. Also he/him.”

“It’s nice to meet you guys,” Alex says. “I’m Alex. He/they.”

“Yeah, your thing says,” Luke says, pointing.

Alex laughs. “You’d be surprised how many people don’t see it. Or they see it and think it’s just another decorative pin.”

“Do people wear pronoun pins as decorations?” Luke wonders. “That seems strange to me.”

“People are ineffable,” Alex says solemnly. Then he grins. Luke likes Alex. In fact, little though Luke’s actually spoken today, he likes most of the people whom Ashton has stopped to chat up. Queer people are so friendly, is what Luke is learning. It almost makes him happy to be here.

Except now Alex’s words are ringing in Luke’s head, and he can’t stop hearing them. Everyone thought we’d break up when we went to college, but when you know, you know.

Ashton’s going to college this fall. Luke’s managed to forget about that fact because it’s only June, but that doesn’t make it any less true. Ashton’s leaving and Luke’s going to finish his senior year alone and what if something happens to them? What if they’re fooling themselves thinking they can do the long-distance thing? What if they’re doomed already and this summer is just prolonging the inevitable?

“Well, personally I would love to buy a pin,” Ashton says. “Luke, choose one.”

“What?” Luke says, blinking himself out of his spiral. “Why?”

“I’m buying you one,” Ashton says.

“I don’t—” Luke bites his lip. He’s still fidgeting with the ace flag pin, and he kind of likes it. Maybe he can subtly come out in different ways. Maybe he can just wear it, and wait for someone to ask. Then it’s way less of a big deal because it’s not like Luke has brought it up.

There’s enough shame in the world. Luke doesn’t need to add to it.

“Okay,” he says instead. He holds up the ace flag. “This one.”

“Great choice,” Ashton says, digging out a five to give to Alex. He hesitates, then pulls out a ten instead. “Actually, maybe I’ll also get one. Then we can actually match.”

“Right, with our matching jackets that don’t exist yet.”

“You know what, fine, we don’t have to match.” Ashton makes a face at Luke. “You can put your pin on whatever you want. It’ll go great with your all-black closet.”

“Shut up,” Luke grumbles. Ashton laughs.

“Hey, don’t knock the all-black,” Alex says. “Black is the new black. It’s fashion forward.”

“Not in eighty-degree June it’s not,” Ashton says.

“It’s seventy-five,” Luke protests. “And Alex is wearing a jacket!”

“Yes, but Alex is not my boyfriend, and we only just met,” Ashton says, grinning. “Also, their jacket is sick as fuck.”

“It is sick as fuck,” Alex agrees. “But I’m still siding with Luke here. You can’t go wrong with all-black.” For the first time, he seems to register Luke’s shirt, and his eyes light up. “Hey, Green Day! I fucking love Green Day!”

“You should be my best friend,” Luke says seriously, and Alex nods equally seriously.

“Hey,” Ashton complains. “I like Green Day.”

“Thank you for the pin,” Luke tells Alex. “Good luck with the, uh, you know, selling more of them.”

“Of course, anytime,” Alex says. “I’m pretty sure there’s a website on these business cards if you ever want to, I don’t know, browse?” They shrug one shoulder. “This is why I’m not a small business owner.”

“Cool,” Luke says, taking the card. He probably won’t use it, but you never know.

“Nice to meet you, Alex,” Ashton says, as he and Luke start to walk away, fingers interlaced between them. “Good luck! Happy Pride!”

“You too! Enjoy the parade!” Alex says, waving.

Luke doesn't bother to inform him they're not staying that long; he and Ashton turn away and continue walking, Luke with his new pin clutched in his fist.

“They were cool,” Ashton says enthusiastically. “There are so many fucking interesting people here. God, I love Pride.”

Luke grips the pin tighter. The pointy back starts to hurt where it’s pressing into his palm. “Yeah.”

“Thanks for letting me get you something,” Ashton says. “I know it’s not really your thing, but I don’t know. I felt like we should buy something after we stood there for so long.”

“No, yeah, I agree.”

“On the bright side, they’re pretty cool pins.” Ashton holds his out like he’s assessing what he’ll do with it. “Maybe Michael has an extra jean jacket he never wears. I could ask him.”

Luke hums. Ashton glances over at him, eyebrows drawn together. “Are you okay?”

Luke's not supposed to say anything like this. He’s supposed to be positive because he promised he wouldn’t be a “Negative Nancy” and the sky is so blue that Luke would hate to be the reason for rain, but if he doesn’t say it then it’ll just keep ringing around his head until he can’t think about anything else.

“You’re not scared we’re gonna break up when you go to college?” he blurts out.

Ashton stops short and their hands break apart so Luke’s falls to his side. “Where’d that come from?”

“You heard Alex,” Luke says. “Everyone thought he and his boyfriend would break up when they went to college.”

“But they didn’t,” Ashton says.

“But that’s obviously unusual,” Luke counters. He swallows hard. “I’m just saying…aren’t you worried?”

Ashton tilts his head. “Do you want me to be worried?”

And yeah, a little part of Luke does. Only because if Ashton’s worried, it means he values their relationship enough that it would hurt him to lose it. But Luke knows that’s not really fair, and he knows Ashton loves him, even if he doesn’t seem worried at all.

“No, I don’t know. I just— I don’t know.”

“Are you?”

“I don’t know,” Luke says again. “I had pretty successfully managed to avoid thinking about it, but now…I don’t know.”

Ashton gently pries open Luke’s fist and runs his thumb over the red imprint the pin has left. Sheepish, Luke puts the pin in his pocket. As soon as his hand is free again, Ashton takes it, holding both of Luke’s hands in both of his own.

“I’m not worried,” he says quietly. His eyes are so sincere and his hands are so soft and Luke loves him and likes him and knows that to lose him would be a fate worse than death. “You must have missed the other half of Alex’s sentence. Remember? When you know, you know.”

Luke’s breath catches a little. “Yeah, but…”

“But what?” Ashton lifts a shoulder. “I already know, Luke. I’m in it for the long haul. So unless you meet some other guy who’s even awesomer than me and makes better puns, you have nothing to worry about. I’m not letting you get away that easy.”

Luke gazes at Ashton until the rest of the world falls away. “Oh,” he breathes.

“Okay?” Ashton quirks a smile.

Luke surges forward and kisses Ashton for as long as he can manage without passing out. It’s clumsy and sweet and Ashton’s hands tighten around Luke’s waist and Luke wraps his arms around Ashton’s shoulders and nothing else in the known universe matters except this.

When they finally break apart, Luke cracks a smile. “Okay.”

Ashton beams. He offers his hand to Luke again, and this time Luke takes it and doesn’t let go.

#luke hemmings #ashton irwin #lashton #lashton fic #5sos #5sos fic #fic #my fic #idk when im gonna post this but at the time of drafting it i am So Fucking Tired #i cant imagine that will be less true when i finally post it lol #i feel like im constantly tired lmao #but right now its 1am and i wanted to be asleep or like getting ready to sleep like.......an hour ago #and then i made a cup of tea instead #it's july 23rd (it's july 22nd but it's past midnight so. 23rd)#and i want sleep!#after i save this post to my drafts tho im gonna go start getting ready for bed #maaaaaaaaaan im tired #night yall #oh i hope you like this fiancee it occurred to me while writing that its hard to write an Ace Fic unless its about the Being Ace #which is not something i care to write about #usually characters just........are ace #so this fic plot was borne (born?) of that dilemma #ask #anonymous #fiancee anon #ETA i just woke up twelve minutes ago but fiancee said now so you get this now

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topsytervy · 4 years ago

Text

Mob Rafe: The Series

Part 1

I still couldn’t think of a title after a month so it’s just going to stay as Mob Rafe: The Series

You can read the prologue here

Word Count: 4,096

Warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking, i think that’s it

~~~~

It was almost 10:30 when you stood in your kitchen, staring into your fridge that was practically empty, trying to figure out what you could make for breakfast. You finally decided on eggs after googling how to tell if they were still good or not and decided that they were fine. After all, JJ had eaten moldy bread before. What’s the difference between that and eating eggs a couple of days past their best by date.

As the eggs cooked in the pan, you grabbed the Aleve and a glass, filling it with water, before walking into the spare bedroom and setting them on the nightstand. You smiled as you watched JJ hug a pillow to his chest, looking rather serene.

In about half an hour, he’d be complaining though and you’d have to listen to it until he left.

You went back to the eggs, stirring them around as you glanced out your kitchen window. You leaned closer and squinted, trying to make out the faces of the people who were going in and out of the place next door.

That house had been up for sale since a week after you moved in, the old lady that lived there deciding that it was time to go into a home.

Well, her family decided. She screamed every curse word underneath the sun as her things, and herself, were being moved out.

That was almost a year ago. You tried convincing JJ to buy it but he said ‘I’m not living near a bunch of people who think my business is their business’. You tried to figure out who exactly was moving in but it was hard to tell considering it could’ve been any of the three guys who were exiting and entering the house.

You sighed before turning your attention back to the eggs that were close to done, hearing JJ groan from the guest room.

“Who the fuck made the sun so bright?” You heard him say, voice muffled.

“Depends on the religion of the person you’re asking!” You hollered back.

“Well, I’m not religious so make it non-religious.” You heard a thump come from the room and you assumed that it was his feet hitting the floor.

“Then the Big Bang.”

“Like the show?”

You closed your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose, taking a deep breath. “You know what? Sure. Like the show.”

JJ emerged, rubbing his face with one of his hands, the glass of water in his other.

“Oh, fucking hell. My head is pounding.” He mumbled, sitting down at the little kitchen table you had.

“I wonder why.” You asked, sarcasm lacing your voice as you plated the eggs.

You brought the eggs over to JJ and set them down with a fork. JJ shot you a smile as you sat down across from him before he began to eat. “Where’s your food?” He questioned, eyeing the empty place in front of you.

You shrugged. “Not that hungry.”

JJ rolled his eyes.

“I’m just not hungry in the mornings’ JayBird. You know this.”

“You should eat in the mornings. Even if it’s just a toaster strudel or a pop tart.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes as you stood up and walked over to your almost empty pantry, rummaging around for anything. You managed to find a pop tart hiding away and you opened it, taking a bite from the pastry. “Happy?”

“When’s the last time you went grocery shopping?”

You shrugged. “I’m planning on doing a little run today.”

“You didn’t answer my question Y/N.”

You walked over to him and placed both your hands on either side of his face. “Don’t worry about me JJ. I’m not starving. Mom dropped off leftovers and I finished them an hour before you showed up last night. She’s been giving me so many leftovers, I just haven’t had the need to go grocery shopping in a bit. Besides, I finished off the potato salad she gave me two days ago at like 5 a.m. this morning when I went to go pee. So I technically had breakfast.”

“What was last night’s leftovers?”

“Tuna casserole. The week before that was a chicken pot pie. And the week before that was stir fry. And the week before that was-”

“Okay, I get it.” He cut you off.

You smirked as you sat back down in your spot. You were pretty sure that your mom was dropping off food just so she could get some time with you. Between work and classes, you didn’t really have time to go over and visit as much as you should. If you weren’t doing either of those things, you were either catching up on sleep or doing as much of your homework as possible. You were lucky you had a fenced in yard so Blue could run around for a while for those days you didn’t have the energy to take him out for a walk.

This also meant you definitely didn’t have the energy to drive yourself to the store and figure out what you needed for food and then drive back home.

So, you were living on your mom’s leftovers that she brought over since she seemed to forget that there was one less person in the house so she didn’t have to make as much food.

“You want me to come with you?” JJ asked, scooping more eggs into his mouth.

“You really don’t need to. I think I can do a simple grocery run myself.” You smiled.

“Don”t say I didn’t offer when you’re making more than one trip.”

You took another bite of your pop tart as you looked down at the floor where Blue and Piper laid, looking at you and JJ for any scraps. JJ was the one to break, giving the two dogs his last bits of breakfast before he leaned back, interlocking his fingers together as he placed them behind his head.

“What do you think the others did last night?” He asked.

You just shrugged, giving him the other pop tart which he reluctantly took after you wouldn’t bring it back to the foil after he shook his head no. JJ felt bad for taking it after just having eggs but if you were so persistent on him having it, he might as well just take the damn thing.

He took a bite and looked out the kitchen window and, through a mouthful of pop-tart, asked, “Who’s moving in?”

You shrugged once more. “I’ll let you know later today when I find out.”

******

“You guys whine more than anyone I know,” Rafe told Kelce and Topper as they brought the couch through the door.

“Yeah. I wonder why. It can’t be because we woke up with massive hangovers and someone made us get up at 8:30 in the morning.” Kelce grumbled.

“I told you guys that you might want to take it easy on the alcohol considering we’re going to be up early tomorrow and the sun’s going to be shining all day. I also told you we'd ve working until we had everything moved in. It’s your fault that you two didn’t listen.” Rafe stated, looking behind him so he could see where he was going. "And think of this, you won’t have to go to the gym tomorrow."

“You sound like my mom. Shut up.” Topper grunted, looking at the floor.

As far as Rafe was concerned, it was Kelces and Topper’s fault. He did, after all, tell them what was happening and what day he was moving in. And he provided lunch for them and was also providing dinner so why were they whining. He would've been better off recruiting Sarah for this job. She would've complained less.

“I’m losing grip. Down. Down.” Kelce told the two.

They set the couch down on the floor and caught their breath, leaning against the piece of furniture. Rafe checked his watch.

4:30 pm.

He sighed as he noticed the hunger in his stomach for the first time since 11 when they ate lunch.

“It was nice of Rose and Ward to give you all their old furniture,” Topper commented, causing Rafe to look at him.

Rafe scoffed. “They only did that so they could have an excuse to get new furniture.”

“Even if that’s true, at least you didn’t have to spend thousands of dollars to get furniture.”

Rafe sighed. Topper had a point and he had to admit, he was a bit grateful to his father and stepmother for deciding their furniture was outdated. Even if it was only 2 years old.

“Kelce, wanna grab the water bottles from the truck?” He asked.

Kelce nodded, heading outside to retrieve the drinks as Rafe readjusted his grip.

"Oh, we're gonna finish this without Kelces’ help," Topper said, catching on after a couple of seconds of Rafe staring at him.

Topper readjusted his grip, nodding to let Rafe know he was ready.

"Yes, Top. And then we're gonna order a pizza." Rafe grunted as they lifted the couch once more.

"You're paying right?"

"Yes, I’m paying. Now angle it more towards the right so it doesn’t hit this corner."

"You're right or my right?"

"My right."

Topper did as he was told, happy for the free meal that would be provided. Rafe was just happy that this was one of the last things they had to move in.

They placed the couch down underneath the window as Kelce came back in, water bottles in hand. The brunette tossed a water bottle to each of his friends as Rafe grabbed his phone from his pocket.

"Dominos or Little Caesars?" Rafe asked, looking between his friends.

"Dominos cause I want a sandwich," Kelce stated.

Topper looked at Kelce. "But little Caesars. Besides we had Firehouse Subs for lunch."

"Did I stutter? I want a fucking sandwich to go with my pizza, Topper."

The blonde stared at Kelce before sighing. "Fine. Dominos."

****

You looked into your trunk, trying to figure out if, no not if, how you were going to get everything in one trip when one of your neighbors approached you.

You looked over at her. "Hey, Mrs.Keling. How are you?" You asked, grabbing one of the paper bags.

"Fine Y/N but how are you?" She asked.

Mrs. and Mr. Keling lived across the street and four doors down from you and never really came over and talked to you. It was usually just the usual wave and smile, maybe a hello and a how are you. But that was only if you ran into each other.

You raised an eyebrow. "Um…fine. Why do you ask?"

Mrs.Keling glanced at the house next door, the Uhaul still parked there. You followed her glance before commenting. "Wow. They're still not done moving. They've been working since I woke up."

"Aren't you worried about living next to him?"

Those words made a chill go down your spine but you ignored it. "Should I be worried?" You set the bag back down in the trunk.

Mrs.Keling sighed. "Do you not know who's next to you?"

You shook your head. You hadn’t caught a glimpse of the mystery neighbor yet. You had noticed, however, many of the neighbors peeking through their windows or standing in their yards as they talked amongst themselves all day.

Mrs.Keling moved in closer and you looked at the middle-aged woman, slightly scared of who she was going to say moved in.

"Rafe Cameron." She whispered before stepping backward.

You felt yourself relax a bit, scared that it was going to be someone horrible.

Granted Rafe Cameron wasn’t exactly a saint.

His past wasn't the best and his past consisted of terrorizing you and your friends but, from what John B, Pope, Kie, and Sarah had told you and JJ, he's pretty tolerable now. His hotheadedness, which probably was a result of his coke addiction, seemed to have died down immensely and he didn't really pick fights out in public anymore.

This was probably because if he got in trouble with the law for something stupid like speeding, his criminal activity would be uncovered.

Rafe Cameron may have looked like he turned a leaf and became a law-abiding citizen overnight but that’s why you never judge a book by its cover. Because, if anything, he got dirtier.

People on the Island knew about Rafe’s new family that he got involved with back when he was 20, no thanks to Wheezie and her mouth.

She told one person to leave her friend alone or else her mob brother would take care of him and that’s all it took. However, no one could arrest him for any illegal activity cause, from what they saw, there was none. He was perfectly clean. Not even the scent of weed to cause them to suspect anything. Eventually, Shoupe had decided that everyone was pulling his leg considering Rafe always lets them search the place and no one had ever caught him doing anything that he could be arrested for.

You let it go, deciding that it was a rumor that could die. You were never much for the gossip that took place within the subdivision you lived in, let alone the island.

"Rafe Cameron lives next door now?" You asked, “As in the man who once climbed a tree to help get a child’s kite down?”

Mrs.Keling nodded. "He’s not as good as he seems Y/N and some of us are worried about you. There’s something about him that’s just...off."

You managed to hold back a scoff. Sure, some of them were worried and you knew they were but it was usually the seniors. The others just wanted to fake it to see if they could get some dirt on the others.

You shrugged as you looked into a bag, seeing the pie at the top, remembering that you picked it up for the new neighbor. "I'll be fine. I have a Blue." You reassured her, grabbing the pie.

You walked across the patch of grass separating your house and, what is now apparently, Rafe’s house. You raised a fist and knocked on the door. Looking around, you saw the neighbors staring at you as you stood there. You grinned and waved at everyone before turning back towards the door.

You heard laughter and footsteps before the door opened, revealing Rafe Cameron himself. He stood in the doorway towering over you, giving you a once over.

"I did some grocery shopping today and decided to pick up a welcome pie. It’s probably not that good considering it was in the clearance section but, ya know, as my dad always says "When you have a cheap pie, have a cheap beer with it"." You smiled, extending the pie towards him.

Rafe smiled back, taking the pie from your hands. "Your dads a wise man."

"Indeed, he is." You grinned.

Rafe looked past you and towards the people watching from their yards.

"Do you want to come inside? Have a slice of this pie you bought? It'd be unfair to not share." Rafe offered.

You smiled but shook your head. "Thanks for the offer but I'm going to have to decline. I've got to go get ready for my shift at work and get my groceries inside." You told him, turning to face your neighbors.

You turned back to the man in front of you and leaned in. "Don't mind these guys. They're, sadly, just your stereotypical suburban moms and dads who like to talk shit about others but hate it when others talk shit about them. Except for Bonnie. She's sweet." You said, waving to the old lady across the street who was tending to her roses. "Anyway. See you around, Rafe." You smiled, waving before turning around and heading back to your driveway where Mrs.Keling still stood.

Rafe watched as you exchanged a few more words with Mrs.Keling, no doubt in his mind that it was about him considering the older lady kept glancing his way.

"Well, she's cute."

Rafe turned around to see Kelce and Topper standing off to the side where they could see outside. Rafe rolled his eyes at his two friends, both of whom wore a smirk, and shoved the pie into Kelces hands.

"You two wait for the pizza." He told them before walking pit the door and to your driveway. He smiled at Mrs. Kelsing who immediately bid you goodbye and scurried off to her home.

You looked at Rafe, a bag in each arm as you waited for him to say something.

"You brought me a pie. Let me at least help you bring in groceries if you're not gonna have a slice of the pie."

****

Topper and Kelce watched from the living room window as Rafe grabbed a couple of bags and helped you bring in your groceries.

"Why is he helping her?"

"Cause that’s what you do when a nice cute girl brings you a pie. You help her with whatever." Kelce answered.

"And you leave your best friends unattended with the pie? A poor choice really." Topper stated, flipping open the box the dessert was in.

"A poor choice indeed." Kelce agreed, opening a box labeled kitchen and pulling out a couple of plates and forks.

Kelce served each of them a slice, clinking their forks together before digging in.

****

"Wait. My brother lives next to you now?" Sarah asked as you brought your friends the drinks they ordered.

It was probably 3 hours into your shift when JJ asked if you had met whoever moved in next door. And when you told the group, their jaws hit the floor.

"And he helped you bring in groceries? You sure that’s Rafe?" JJ raised an eyebrow as he immediately brought his bottle of beer to his lips.

You nodded as you tucked the now empty tray under your arm, looking at your watch. 15 minutes left of your shift.

"That’s so weird," Kie stated.

"Is it though? I mean, he has been wanting to have his own place for a while. It doesn’t help that Topper doesn’t pay attention to what name is on the sticky note when it comes to food." Sarah rolled her eyes, remembering all the times she called Rafe for something and heard an argument break out amongst the two boys.

And all she had to say was poor Kelce for having to put up with their bullshit.

"Yeah. I know that feeling." Pope commented, glancing at JJ.

The blonde immediately pointed his finger at Pope. "You don’t write your name on shit. You specifically said that we aren’t going to do the whole this is my food, this is your food." JJ defended himself.

"Uh, no. I never said that. Why would I say that, JJ?"

"You tell me cause those words came out of your mouth."

"Oh did they? Cause I don’t remember that. In fact, I remember you saying we should put our names on our food so we know what belongs to who but then you broke that rule." Pope glared at his best friend.

"No. I said we should label the to-go boxes from restaurants when we dine in then take our leftovers home so we know what belongs to who."

"Okay. Pipe it down and quit the squawking." You told them, giving both of them a light smack.

"You two fight worse than me and Sarah and you two aren’t even together like that." John B shook his head.

"You don’t know that for sure," JJ smirked, bringing the bottle up once again so he could take a drink.

Pope sighed as the rest of you stood there staring at JJ before you shook your head. "I’m going back to work and in 15 minutes you all better be ready to leave." John B held up the keys to the twinkie and you snatched them from his hand. "And I'm driving."

You had driven to John B’s in your car and parked it there once you heard from Kie that everyone was planning on going out for drinks, opting on being the designated driver. This wasn’t the first time you did this, having them have their night out at the bar you worked at so you could drive them home safely after your shift. It gave them plenty of time to get shit-faced and you were able to make sure no one did something dumb while still being able to work.

It was kind of like Nani and Lilo’s situation of Nani bringing Lilo to work.

The pogues were Lilo and you were Nani.

*****

Rafe took a swig from his beer before setting it down harder than he needed to.

He was currently swearing under his breath as he sat on the floor, attempting to assemble an entertainment center he bought from IKEA as his two best friends sat on the couch, each enjoying another slice of pie as they had a beer themselves.

“I’m telling you, man, you should’ve had them to assemble it for you,” Topper told him.

Rafe rolled his eyes. “I can do it myself thank you very much.”

“You couldn’t do it sober. What makes you think you can do it drunk?” Kelce laughed.

Rafe turned around and sent him a glare. “I will have you know that it’s going to take more than a beer and a half to get me drunk.” He looked down at their plates to see them both halfway done with their pie slices. “Is there going to be any pie left for me?”

“You mean the pie that the cutie pie from next door brought over? There’s a slice left.” Kelce told him.

“And I’m not taking any chances,” Rafe muttered, slamming down the allen wrench and standing up, walking into his kitchen to retrieve that last slice.

He grabbed a fork and the box that the pie rested in, not bothering with a plate, before walking back over to his spot on the floor.

“You know,” Rafe started, using his fork to cut a piece of pie off his slice before letting his fork hover in the air, “you two having been pigging out this whole time, yukking it up and whatnot while I have been doing all this work.” Rafe punctuated his sentence by placing his fork in his mouth.

“Not true. We’ve been providing you moral support.” Topper defended.

“Well if you two aren’t going to provide physical help, then you can walk your asses out the door.”

Topper and Kelce looked at each other before nodding and getting up. “See you later, buddy.”

“Yeah. Oh, btw, Sarah said something about throwing you a little ‘congrats on getting a house’ party at John B’s on Friday since she didn’t want to throw it here and upset your neighbors!”

Rafe opened his mouth to speak but the door shutting cut him off.

"Thanks for helping." He muttered.

He picked up his beer and took another sip, checking his watch as he brought the bottle away from his lips.

12:30 AM.

Rafe sighed as he continued to eat his pie and drink his beer, deciding that once he was finished with his snack he’d head to bed.

He got up to put his fork in the sink and throw away his garbage when headlights caught his attention.

He looked out the window, confusion on his face. This wasn’t the type of neighborhood where he expected people to go out until midnight. Hell, they didn’t even seem like the people who’d be out until 10.

It made a lot more sense when he saw the car pull into your driveway and you getting out of the car. He watched you walk up to your door and unlock it before walking in, closing the door behind you.

He shook his head before walking away from the window, continuing his way towards the kitchen. He threw everything away and tossed his fork into the sink before shutting off his lights and heading into his bathroom. He brushed his teeth before changing into a sweatshirt and sweatpants, heading into his room, and flopping down onto the mattress that laid on the floor with a groan. He suddenly regretted ordering his new bed frame online and not paying for two-day delivery.

He let his eyes close, his breathing steady as he worked his way to sleep, letting darkness completely take over in a matter of minutes.

~~~~~

Taglist: @oleariaux @popcrone818 @void-sadie @diverrdown @teenagekook @acvross-the-universe @poguemackin @bibliophilewednesday

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yukipri · 4 years ago

Text

Marco’s Bauble Part 4 - a One Piece Mermaid AU Text Story

Next part of Marco’s Bauble! Was posted in advance on Patreon ^ ^

In which the Whitebeards gossip

Contains mention of Marco x Luffy.

Continues off of, and should be read after:

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble Part 1

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble Part 2

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble Part 3

Namur values his crew's privacy. And given that he doubts he was even supposed to see Marco's secret, he absolutely can't disclose it to anyone.

Which is why he's snuck into Izo's room at ass o'clock in the morning, when everyone but the morning shift is asleep, but Izo's awake because he takes a few hours doing his hair and makeup.

"This had better be good, I don't usually enjoy an audience before I'm presentable," Izo says.

Namur doesn't really get what's unpresentable about Izo now. Sure he looks different, with his ridiculously long hair still loose and spilling to his waist, pulled back from his face with a seemingly simple band that Namur saw Izo drop a small fortune for. Izo's plucking up various bottles of liquid lined up on his vanity, methodically shaking a few measured drops into his palm before patting them into his face. Namur doesn't see any difference before and after the drops are applied.

"It's...it's not my secret to tell, but no one else seems to know, and I need to talk to someone, it's too big for just me," Namur says, reluctantly. "But you can't tell anyone, Izo, I mean it."

Izo just hums in response, and Namur sweats. He seems to be doing a lot of that these days. Maybe he needs to take a few days to just swim, being above sea level for too long can be stressful for fishmen.

Because this is already seeming like an increasingly bad idea. Izo isn't known for being particularly good at keeping secrets; if anything, he's a known gossip. That being said, he's also one of the best listeners aboard the Moby (it's how he gets his info), and more importantly, is the third best person to go to for good, thoughtful advice.

The best person to go to for advice is, of course, Pops, but Namur wilts at the mere thought because it really, really isn't his place to talk to Pops about this without Marco's consent. And unfortunately, the close second for Best Person to Go to For Advice is none other than Marco himself, everyone's Big Brother and caring Mother Hen Supreme.

And, well. It's not like Namur can go to Marco to talk about Marco.

"Well, I'm waiting," Izo says, and apparently he'd gone through his entire lineup of six little bottles of mysterious liquids, and is now blotting some paste onto his skin with a weird brush-like contraption. Namur squints, but can barely see any difference between the areas with the paste and without.

"Please don't tell anyone, unless they already know," Namur stresses again, praying.

"Yes, yes." Izo continues blotting.

"Marco proposed to someone."

Izo continues blotting.

Namur sweats.

Izo's hand gradually slows, and Namur realizes he's finished covering his entire face. Namur sees zero difference.

"Just so we're clear," Izo says, as he finally turns to face Namur. "When you say 'Marco,' we're talking about the fire chicken one, and when you say 'propose,' we're talking about the marriage, weddings, and babies type?"

"Babies?!"

No, no, that actually hadn't crossed Namur's mind, but it's there now, and he knows logically that devil fruits don't work like that, but his mind is suddenly filled with the image of an entire school? flock? of tiny colorful winged merbabies, and he's oh, oh NO they're so cu--

"Namur! Focus, please!"

Namur blinks. He doesn't know when it happened, but one of Izo's eyebrows is more defined than the other now.

"Yeah, that Marco," he confirms. "And I, I don't know about...the last thing, but yeah, if successful, usually the kind that results in marriage type."

Izo's oddly calm, and is facing his mirror again. He frowns momentarily, but then smooths his expression and begins applying his other eyebrow. Namur realizes that Izo's able to keep his face so smooth because he wants to draw on his face evenly, and that's actually quite impressive. Though, he has no idea why Izo needs more eyebrows, when he already has perfectly normal ones growing on his face.

"Who's the boy who stole the stupid pineapple's heart, it must be someone we know," Izo says, voice light.

Namur wasn't exactly planning on disclosing this much, he'd just wanted someone else to help him think of how best to support their brother's potentially upcoming union, but Izo's definitely not taking no for an answer, and that's a fight he knows he can't win.

"It's Ace's little brother, the one Thatch went to go fetch," he says reluctantly. "And even though she's his 'little brother,' she's apparently a girl, and a mermaid."

There's a clatter, and Izo curses. Namur tries to peer at Izo's face in the mirror, and notices a weird black blob by his eye that Izo's now trying to delicately smudge off. It wouldn't have been there in the first place if Izo hadn't been trying to poke himself in the eye with the weird brush thing. Namur really doesn't get this makeup business.

"You're telling me," Izo growls, and Namur flinches at the irritation, though he gets the feeling it's directed mostly at the eye blob. "That Marco's straight? I could have sworn he was gay!"

Namur blinks at Izo.

Izo blinks at Namur through the mirror. The eye blob makes his face look slightly crooked.

"Oh, right," Izo mutters, picking up his brush with face distorting ink again. "I thought Marco only liked guys like that, so it surprised me that he likes a girl. Maybe he's bi. Don't worry about it, it's a dumb human thing."

"Oh," Namur says, and yeah, he's heard vaguely about humans being weirdly obsessed with only liking a specific gender or two. It's a very foreign concept that Namur doesn't really get because it doesn't exist on Fishman Island, and romance stuff rarely comes up on the Moby, shockingly enough, or at least in front of Namur. But he's glad Izo doesn't seem too upset, because that would upset Namur. Namur's never met Ace's little brother, but he imagines she'd look so very charming next to Marco, given how in love Marco looked when he was sending off his proposal. He wants to root for them.

"Although, hm, does Ace know? I doubt he'd be very happy about Marco sweeping his dearest little brother off her feet, er, fins," Izo says, seemingly more relaxed now that his face distorting paint is cooperating. His face is now even, although his eyes actually do look different now, more like the Izo Namur usually sees. It's fascinating.

"I don't know," Namur confesses, and he's suddenly feeling very glum at the thought of their little fire cracker baby brother not being happy. Even though Ace didn't formally join, he's still their littlest brother, and Namur's very fond of him, and has honestly lost track of the number of times he's dived into the sea to fetch the reckless kid. He was honestly devastated when Ace said he was leaving. It's alright now, now that Namur knows it was just to bring home Marco's future bride, but he hopes Ace will be supportive too.

"And how did you know he was proposing?"

At this point, what does it matter what else Namur shares? "Well..."

By the time Namur's done answering all of Izo's questions on Fishman Island courtship and Marco's respectful application of it, Izo's done with his face.

"Well, that was certainly a fascinating talk," Izo says with lips the color of a raw fish's innards. "Now I'll have to kick you out before I do my hair. At least I finished my face."

Namur knows he's been excused. "Thank you for your time. Also, it looks very nice, your face," he says politely as he gets up. It seems awkward not to comment on it, after having watched Izo work so hard on it for the past half hour. "Although it looked nice before too. I like the eye paint."

Izo pauses contemplatively, then nods. "That's an acceptable compliment. Thank you. Now, shoo."

"So, who's the wedding for?"

Izo jolts as Haruta settles his tray on the other side of the table.

"What wedding?"

"Don't play dumb. You're planning a wedding. I noticed some of our books were moved in the library, and you were the only one who was in there before me. You were looking up Grand Line marriage traditions, and going through shitty wedding magazines that no one's touched in a decade," Haruta rattles off as he stirs his soup, and Izo inwardly curses.

He thought he'd placed them all back where he'd found them, but alas, apparently nothing gets by Haruta's observation skills, and his talent for butting into business that has nothing to do with him.

"And given the selections, I'd say it's not for you." Haruta continues, as though he knows Izo's tastes by heart and sadly, he probably does, and not just Izo's but the whole crew's. "So someone's getting married, or they're thinking about it, and you're planning. I want to know who."

"You're a nosey little shit," Izo says, because he knows there's really no point in denying it to Haruta without tangible evidence, which he lacks. He's also too tired to deal with this shit, because he did his hair in a hurry in order to make it to the library before everyone woke up, which means it's slightly less perfect than usual. And being anything less than perfect is a truly exhausting business.

"Mm-hmm," Haruta says, and momentarily seems distracted by his plate. There's a tiny, almost imperceptible frown on his lips, and Izo only recognizes it because he'd had the same thought.

The food's by no means bad, and they have many fine cooks on the Moby. It's just, it's a little different, without Thatch's personal touch. Izo hates that their brother's temporary absence is so tangible. Damn him for going on his little vacation.

They continue their meal in silence, and Izo hopes that Haruta's forgotten, his mind having moved on to terrorizing other innocent brothers. Izo thinks he might be able to get away, when Haruta gets up right alongside Izo to return his tray.

"So who is it?" he repeats, as though they hadn't just sat in thirty minutes of silence, and Izo wants to tear out Haruta's hair in frustration, because Izo would never tear out his own hair for any reason.

"It's none of your business, don't you have work to do?"

"My work is knowing stuff. Tell me."

"This isn't something you need to know. That's what I'm telling you."

"Nice try. Lemme guess. Is it Marco?"

Haruta laughs at his own joke, and promptly walks into Izo's back. Izo tries to get over his momentary freeze, but the damage is done.

"Holy shit, it's MARCO?!"

"What happened to Marco?" Vista has the absolute worst timing in entering the cafeteria, because he's standing directly in front of them. He already has his sword sheaths removed from his belt, no doubt so he can polish them in a corner after he's done eating, as is his usual ritual.

Haruta's eyes are blown wide, and Izo wants to stop him but no one can out-talk Haruta when he wants to talk, so it's like watching a cannonball hurtling towards an inevitable collision.

"Marco's getting married."

Vista never drops his swords.

Vista's swords clatter to the ground.

And now everyone inside the cafeteria, and those in the line forming outside behind Vista, all stop to stare.

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

And as always, comments/reblogs/tags always immensely appreciated!!! People sharing their thoughts with me motivates me to write so much more, and update more frequently, so thank you so much for everyone who’s so kindly done so in the past!! ;A;

(The next part’s already up on Patreon if anyone wants to read in advance <3)

❀ ❀ Send YukiPri an Ask! ❀ ❀

Read the next part: Marco’s Bauble, Part 5

~This ask has been added to the Mermaid AU Text Headcanons Compilation post~

#OnePieceMermaidAU #One Piece Mermaid AU #Marco the Phoenix #MarLu #Whitebeard Pirates #MaLu #Monkey D. Luffy #genderbend #text headcanons #fic #longpost #long post

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cartoonfangirl1218 · 4 years ago

Text

5 times Leonard was surprisingly affectionate

1 They had been loitering at the New York Zoo and Sara was just uncharacteristically frigidity. She kept inching towards the bird section that was chaotic with sounds of macaw squawks, dove coos and the never ending screech of some tropical bird that Leonard hated. The noise was driving him nuts.

Stein had advised that it would be a great place for a 3rd date as that if they had an awkward pause, there was an automatic conversation starter if a lion ever got loose. Right now he wished a lion would go on a rampage right now and kill those stupid birds.

Sara really seemed to enjoy the trip so far, he didn't get the big deal it was just a bunch of animals in caging staring back at you. Or just sleeping.

Sara just smiled and dragged him to the bird aisle. Leonard couldn't help but give a small smirk. He really liked her smile, it was bright and casual. Yeah, that's it, casual. Not too big or that blinding smile that made him feel warm all over.

Just casual.

He was with someone he trusted. Not a daily feeling in Leonard Snart's life. He hadn't felt safe since he killed his father with the cold gun those many months ago. Or was it a year?

But with Sara it was different kind of safety. An emotional one. That she understood what it was like to be one of the bad guys. The feeling that no matter what you did, you couldn't be redeemed. The vulnerableness of being with all those "heroes," the disbelief that you could ever become that good.

She went through it to. She got through it and somehow it made him feel hopeful that he could too.

Sara raced past the tropical birds and scanned the name cards. Then a beep sounded. From Rip.

"Savage, 1997." was his message.

"Oh,” Sara sighed, shook her head and strode confidentially out of the zoo.

At the Waverider, the team was leaving the base after Rip informed them that getting Savage before the Team had formed might be their only chance at saving Carter and maybe getting another muscle. Sara was leaving to her room to get a katana, when Leonard stopped at her door.

"I got this before we left." He handed her a wooden canary that started to play a simple tune.

"How did you?" Sara gently took the canary, a giddy smile unconsciously spreading over her face. "I have my ways."

2 She had been shot by Nyssa and was lying on the hospital bed getting stitched up. She stated that she didn't mind the pain, it was numb to her, she had worse things. But Leonard could tell she was in pain.

Just not the physical kind.

Leonard was aware of her past with Nyssa and he could just imagine the hurt of her former lover shooting her in the shoulder.

To be fair, Nyssa didn't know who Sara was. She was just raised as Ra's daughter, to kill. Sara had been standing between her and Chronos. He also knew Sara was berating herself for getting shot, for being weak.

"Sara, you can't blame yourself." "Yes, I can!" Sara protested "I knew she didn't know me, and I kept telling her what a good person she was. It was just stupid. I'm so stupid. Ugh!”

"No you're not. You're badass but not stupid."

"This is not the time." Sara glared.

"Fine but I'm taking your night watch" - Night watch was when two team members stayed at the base to study any activity from Savage then shifted to another two later in the earlier morning. Today was her turn to watch with Stein and Leonard was suppose to take the later one with Ray.

"Leonard, I'm shot not disabled, I'll do it." Sara insisted. "No, you won't." "Yes I will." "No, Sara." He leaned close to her, whispering in her ear, "It's okay to be hurt right now. Just sit and relax" Then walked away.

Sara remained in her bed like Leonard told her and in the morning she heard the toy canary by her bedside, singing and an exhausted Leonard was asleep in the chair next to her.

3 The third time was four months after they made it official. They were boyfriend and girlfriend and life couldn't be any easier, well love wise, the world was still in danger.

They were watching the Matrix on the couch and Sara had fell asleep at some point when the Matrix exploded.

Sara because of her assassin tendencies and the probability everyone tried to kill her in her sleep was a very light sleeper.

Sara hadn't been sleeping lately for various reasons, Nyssa being one of them. 2nd timeline Nyssa shooting her had been a recurring nightmare.

The sound of the Matrix exploding had been surprisingly calming, like how she wanted to kill someone and that just watching someone in pain made her feel better.

Sara had woken up to someone brushing her hair, she was about to stand up and ask what he was doing when she felt him lay his head on hers then he put her head on a pillow and walked away.

Sara shrugged and went back to sleep, probably some his brooding walks of thoughtfulness.

A few seconds, she heard him tiptoe back and put the blanket over her.

4 "Sara what were you doing?" Rip yelled.

Leonard cringed as Sara frowned. Sara had just killed a flight attendant that was preventing her from getting into Savage's private jet.

The killing had accomplished the goal to get into the jet, but Savage still escaped, Sara was covered in blood and the news reporters were more than eager to get the headline of Victor Scolia's attempted murder, assassin in jail.

Then the team having to go to jail to bust her out hadn't made Rip's twitch any better.

"My job to get Savage," Sara replied stiffly.

"By killing the guy. You could have just hit him on the head and be done with but now all of Cincinnati has your name on America's Most Wanted." Rip continued on with tirade on how she must use simpler means such as a small blow to the head to make people unconscious, not dead.

Leonard gave a small internal sigh himself. He knew how difficult it was for her. The spent many nights were Sara discussed her bloodlust and how she wanted more action. She needed to feel the blood over her hands, smooth and sticky and know that she was alive because she ended someone else.

Besides it was more practical, sealed the witness more quickly. But since his little deal with Scarlet he had resided these urges. Then again, he hadn't been resurrected from death in a Lazerus pit so this must be a different level of bloodlust.

Sara strode to her, poised as usual. But he noticed a slight dejected slump. She knew she screwed up It was best to leave her alone.

But the part of being a supportive boyfriend wouldn't let him.

Sara was sitting in her bed, staring at the wall.

"I had to kill him. For myself. Like a monster," Sara muttered, vaguely registering his presence.

Rather than doing another one of the talks that had been played over before, he sat next to her. Sara leaned against his chest and screamed in frustration. He slowly patted her shoulder.

5 She attempted to cook for him for their first anniversary. It was a simple meal, just some mashed potatoes and an omelet but it went wrong.

Really wrong.

She had burned both the egg and potatoes and left the bottoms scorched. She had tried to make it up by posting ice cubes to lessen the heat. Leonard felt a little fearful for his stomach but gave a shaky smile in return and put on his best poker face.

"Enjoy," Sara sat down with her own glass of water and played with her eggs.

Leonard noticed the way she looked at him worriedly. "She really wants me to like it.” Leonard thought and decided faking until he made it would be the best option. Just this once and it was for her.

He took a forceful of egg and shoved it in. It tasted awful. The grease and the smell of smoke filled his nose and mouth but Leonard valiantly continued and ate it all. Breaking a chair leg in the process of trying not to let his pain show.

The next morning Leonard was excused from work due to food poisoning that he blamed at the Taiwanese McDonalds.

Though Sara just knew it had to be her cooking. But he didn't say a word, he just smiled and ate those eggs.

And that was anniversary gift itself.

And the 1 Leonard had been in the shower in the men's room. Staring himself in the mirro r in disgust. He had ran into Lewis once more during their missions in the timeline and the scars across the front of his chest glared mockingly at him.

Of all those years of obeying the dead bastard.

Nothing big occurred between them, not wanting to mess up the timeline and such but seeing him again just brought back all those memories.

He pulled on his parka and strode into the HQ. He hit the table over and over with his fist, cursing.

Sara walked in, "What is it?" She asked soothingly.

"The bastard" he replied "The damn bastard that did this to me. The bastard that treated me like his flunkies for diamonds. Couldn't hold his damn liquor. The loser doesn't know anything. He took my childhood and put me in juvie he put a fucking bomb in my sister's head just so I worked with him because he couldn't do it himself! I have spent half my life in hell!"

"Hit me," Sara commanded, holding up the palm of her hands to hit. Leonard hit immediately, the impact only pushed her a few feet backwards.

”Harder." she insisted.

Leonard continued to hit her hands until her hands turned red and he was kneeling to his knees with effort.

Sara quietly lifted his head and hugged him. His cold body melted into the warmth of her arms

#captain canary #white canary #leonard snart #captain cold #sara lance #rip hunter #dc’s legends of tomorrow #my fanfic #my fanfiction #5 times Leonard was surprisingly affectionate

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iloverubberduckiez-blog · 4 years ago

Text

Partners- Reader x Hybrid!Maknae line

A/N: Don't know if ill write more and make a Lil series or keep this as a drabble

WC: 4k

Warnings:Fluff, possible smut if i continue.

Rated: PG 13 i guess

After another long day at your shitty desk job as a secretary, you were on your way out when you get stopped by the department head.

“Hey Y/N, I'm glad I caught you!”

You inwardly groaned. All you wanted to do was to go home to your beautiful hybrid who you knew would no doubt whine about you coming home late. 1000 bucks says Mark was here to tell you that you would be delaying that peace a little longer.

“Mark please I am tired and I already worked two hours over today”

“Sorry Y/N. I have to stay too. We are expecting some big shot from the main branch and you and I get to personally oversee all things pertaining to him when he gets here. He’s gearing up to take over HQ as the new CEO”

“Oh my- No way.”

“Yup. Jackson Wang”

“Damn. well, he is super hot so I'm doing it for him, not you. When do we need what?”

“He doesn't get in till next week so we will have time to prepare. Just letting yo know you can pass on the DRASS project to Amaya.”

“What no way that project is mine, it's literally all I've worked on for months-”

“And I know you were super excited to fly back to Kenya to help those people and see it through. I promise you will get full credit but We need this, trust me Jackson says he wants to pick his personal team from within the company. If we do well enough this will be the push we need and could select us as candidates.- You have a hybrid right? well, I have a family of five, and having extra money in the bank whether it's just a bonus for this or a whole new position will help us both and you know it.”

“okay” You relented with a sigh taking the folder from his hands.

“You should rest up this weekend so that we can meet up a little early next week to go over what needs to get done and how we can prepare for everything.”

“so i can go home now?”

Mark chuckles and nods. “ Run along, give your boy a hug from me” Mark kisses your forehead as has been the norm and walks away with a small wave towards his own car.

Leaving the office you groan after seeing the traffic. It was going to be a slow crawl in the car for like an hour before you make it back home.

“Y/N!” You didn't even unlock the door before you were bombarded with the full weight of the handsome hybrid you share a home with.

“Where were you? I was waiting for you for so long. I got us dinner but its all cold now” His voice a little muffled as he spoke into your hair.

“oh what did you eat?”

Taehyungs tummy growled.

“I didn't. I wanted us to eat together because i got Lasagne, your favourite.” His tail which was wrapped around you as he had hugged you fell to the floor in sadness.

“I’m so sorry Tae.” You looked up to find his ears flattened on his head as his arms drop from your shorter frame.

Taehyung’s eyes meet yours as he feels how your guilt seems to seep through and he gives you his beautiful signature boxy smile before picking you up and carrying you into your apartment.

“It’s okay Y/N we can reheat it.”

You kiss him on the check and go into your room to change into something comfortable before joining Tae back in the kitchen and sitting on one of the stools.

“Wine M’lady.” Taehyung poured two glasses and reached for your hand leading you to the couch.

“c’mon it will take a while to heat nicely in the oven.”

You nodded and followed him hi sat first then pat his lap. You looked at him questioningly.

“First my favourite meal and then expensive wine? It's not my birthday Tae.By the way this wine is like 1922 grade $400 bucks stuff how in the world did you get some?”

Taehyung chuckled.“I just wanna sit and cuddle with you and have a nice evening together plus you smell like a squirrel.”

You caved and snuggled beside Taehyung instead of on his lap but he just pulled you closer to him nuzzling your hair and drawing little patterns on your arms.

You inwardly facepalmed, of course, Tae’s sensitive nose picks up on all the people from work and apparently most pungently your intern who had sent his Squirrel hybrid to give in some documents to you halfway through a meeting - “I can go take a shower-”

“No don't go please i just missed you a lot today is all.”

“ You sure? Nothing else? Nothing bothering you?”

“Nothing at all.”

It was not nothing.

Taehyung had spent the better part of the morning crying his eyes out after overhearing your conversation to Seokjin. He didn't mean to eavesdrop, in fact, he was going to come and give you a hug good morning but what he heard made him stop dead in his tracks.

“He’s a beautiful Calico cat Y/N, i think that it could be a good match for you. You did say you had always wanted a cat right? well this is your chance and he will dote on you hand and foot- you work too much honestly when do you take time to read and breathe?”

Tae robotically walked away tail tucked in between his legs and retreated to the bathroom He didn't bother with the rest of the conversation he was just numb. He turned on the shower but made no other moves towards actually showering. All he could think of was that maybe you were trying to replace him, that he wasn't enough for you or maybe that he was just too much and you didn't love him anymore. He heard you knock on the door announcing your departure for work but he couldn't bring himself to respond. After crying for what felt like hours Tae looked at his phone. You had sent a message.

“Tae,

Had to leave early,U might not have heard me in the shower.Take care. Y/N”

Taehyung felt morose. No “I love you” or cute emoji. He sighed and went to your room. Laying on your bed he snuggled up to one of your pillows and managed to fall asleep. It ended up only being a nap as Taehyung woke around an hour later. Eyes still puffy and with a sniffle, he sat up determined and decided to do something special for you.

“Hey Hyung”

“What do you wan- Is Y/N Okay? Did you start a fire again?”

Taehyung deadpanned. “Hyung that was one time!”

“Okay, what's wrong little brother?”

Taehyung whined. he felt the beginnings of tears stirring up again.

“come over. Hoseok has a day off today. Or do you just wanna talk to me?”

“I’ll be right there”

Yoongi sighed rubbing his fingers over his temples. Hoseok was currently now consoling his little brother who after regaling his story managed to upset himself and break down into full-blown tears again.

“I knew something was up I *Hic* didn't think she, we would ever be apart”

Yoongi sat on Taehyungs opposite side and pulled him into a hug after wiping some of his tears.

“It’s just a big misunderstanding okay she is just working really hard she’s not trying to abandon you.”

“Hyung you don't know that. Easy for you to say because you have Hoseok- Hyung.”

“And it's only because of her that I got adopted by him remember? She wanted us both but she didn't have the means to look after both of us so she called all her friends willing to take a hybrid on and then she said that she was sorry she couldn't do more but at least we would be able to see each other. She’s the reason we can still talk, see each other despite being separated, and hang out.”

Hoseok nods, “She got an extra bed in your room too for Yoongi to come to stay over whenever he wanted and she gave him the spare key remember? I don't even have a spare and I've known her longer-”

“she likes us better” Taehyung and Yoongi snapped to Hoseok at the same time.

Hoseok laughed. “well glad to know where I stand. I wouldn't hold it against you if you moved now, she earns enough to support you now...so if-”

Yoongi smiled “You would be hopeless without me and you know it.”

Hoseok scratched behind Yoongi’s ears and with a smile, he began “Well if you want my advice on this-”

“We don’t,” The hybrid brothers said again in unison.

Hoseok rolled his eyes and mumbled about getting something to eat and calling Seokjin to figure out what was going on.

Yoongi’s heart was aching for Taehyung. He wanted nothing more than to see his beautiful smile again.

“Y/N likes Lillies why don't you buy her some and like welcome her with those and some chocolates or something when she gets home?”

Taehyung sighed. “I thought about that but it feels too simple and like something anyone could come up with.” His eyes glazed over to the Tv where a couple was horseriding on a ranch. Immediately Taehyung lit up.

” That's it!”

“Tae we can't buy a horse ranch, even with all three of us chipping in”

“Not the ranch Hyung. Y/N likes this special wine that you can only get at a few places. If I get her a bottle and cook her a fancy dinner she can remember why she only needs me.”

Hoseok came back to the living room.

“oh, I have a bottle from the last time we went to the ranch as a group the chateau right? I was gonna wait for her birthday and surprise her but you can have it Tae,”

Taehyung glomped Hoseok in gratitude.

“cant breathe Tae”

“sorry.”

Yoongi stood up scrolling on his phone. “what did Soekjin say?”

Taehyungs smile dropped and his face morphed into nervous worry. Yoongi placed a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder expecting bad news from the way he reacted.

“He is out of town for the weekend. Some big trip so I could only leave a voicemail. It’s probably nothing. Anyway, you should go on and get dinner ready for Y/N before she gets home right?”

Taehyung brightened a little and skilled nodding. Before he left Yoongi said he should probably order food so he doesn't poison you or set the place on fire. He left feeling optimistic and hopeful that he could mend things with you. He wanted to help take better care of you he promised himself.

You woke up to the smell of burnt pancakes and Hot chocolate. Following the scent, you found Tae in the kitchen attentively staring at the pancake until a small ding went off on his phone. Shutting off the timer he placed a layer of batter where the last pancake just lay and set the timer again. You watched him fondly before he plated this one and poured honey over it. Putting the plate on a tray with the precut fruits and hot chocolate his ears went up as he sniffed the air. Turning around he saw you in the doorframe.

“Y/N...i-i made breakfast” He hastily grabbed your hand and led you back to you room tucking you in, before rushing out and bringing the tray with him.

Your heart swelled at this blessing of a man in front of you and he watched with rapt attention as you cut off a piece of the pancake before placing it in your mouth.

“How is it?” His ears sagged over his head expecting rejection.

“I can make you an omelet instead if you-”

“Taehyung it's the best pancake I’ve ever eaten.”

He buried his face in your pillow at your praise, tail wagging happily. You offered him a strawberry and a piece of the pancake and he hummed happily.

After sharing breakfast together you spent the day spring cleaning together before spending the rest of the day on a movie marathon. On Sunday You were both invited to game night at Hoseoks and You and Tae were a dynamite team as usual with Yoongi coming in to troll Hoseok much to his displeasure.

“I look forward to working with you further Mr wang.” you held out your hand. Jackson laughed and gave you a hug instead.

“No way just call me Jackson. I’ve been friends with Mark forever so any friend of his is a friend of mine, also you come at a right recommendation, which is surprising cos he can be a bit of a downer.”

“I’m right here you know!”

“I’m so grateful for you for doing this at such last minute. i know it was a lot to organise in the given time frame Y/N.”

“Not at all, Mr wa- Jackson.”

You all stayed in his office with some comfortable banter before going home.

Taehyung called over to you and began to advance happily towards you before he stopped and sniffed you strangely. You wanted to ask him what the problem was but your phone chimed. it was Soekjin- he was calling you. You declined the call because you remembered you needed to tell Tae what was going on so that you could get his opinion on things.

“It might be urgent, if he keeps calling you like that. Go see what your human friend wants.”

“Do you not like Jin? Since when? Tae what’s-”

“You’ve been talking a lot to whoever lately and you smell like a new scent and a hybrid and I feel tired so I’ll probably just go hang out at Hyung’s.”

“No wait Taehyung I’m not trying to have secrets or hide anything from you but there is something important I need to tell you.”

Taehyung huffed and went to go sit down as you took his hands in yours. He looked like how you found him 2 years ago a wounded puppy with eyes full of love and brimming with sadness.

“Things are a bit crazy at the shelter and Jin needs help in housing some of the Hybrids temporarily. Some can go to other shelters but some need a more... loving environment, calmer without the more violent hybrids sharing with the weaker type ones. I offered to take two of them in while he figures everything out. I know its a lot and if you don't want to, we will just stay just us but if Jin is overcrowded he’s at risk of getting shut down and then they could all end up on the streets I-”

“It's okay.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“It's just temporary, right? I can understand that we shouldn't let anyone be on the streets if we can help.”

“really? you’re fine with this?”

“It’s...I will be able to deal with it. But I want strawberry cake and I’m not sharing”

“Of course Tae. Guess I should call Jin and tell him the great news!” You chirped and went to grab your phone. You didn't notice the sheer rejection that he tried to hold in.

Jungkook and Jimin stood behind Jin. The latter holding Jin’s shirt as he explained some of the pills he had brought along for their nutrition and bringing along some bags with groceries. You reached to take it and Jungkook took them all in your stead silently trying to minimize eye contact with you.

“Thank you Jungkookie.”

Embarrased, Jungkook stuttered out. “I-Its the least I can do after you are being so kind.” You practically melted and pet the Muscle bunny softly at the base of his ears and he stomped his foot a little and grinned showing his toothy smile.

Jimin, not to be outdone, said he could help you pack everything away and let go of Jin who was trying to remain them of something that they were tuning out in their silent contest to impress you. You tried to place a jar on a shelf too high and fell back into JK who caught you and placed it up for you instead. Jimin began whining that he could have done it for you but he was busy with the things in the fridge.

Taehyungs loud sneeze broke up the rowdy lot of you.

Jungkook gripped your waist in fear and stayed behind you as you faced Taehyung. Jimin in shock had hit his head on the shelf of the fridge and tried to catch some of the items that threatened to spill out.

Tehyung seeing Jungkook’s hand on your waist had yanked you out of his grasp and began scenting you and sending a snarl their way.

You sighed. This was how Taehyungs been acting ever since you started the project with Jackson. Pretty much anything could set him off but you felt bad because you should have been more understanding of how this may look in his eyes.

“ Jin, Rabbit, feline”

“Tae, Longtime! Sorry if we woke you. this is Jungkook he's a black Holland Lop and Jimin is a calico cat.”

“I’m Y/N’s Siberian husky.” Tae said to the other two before looking back to Jin.

“ I was awake- Hyung i was finishing the laundry for the new...guests.”

You spun around in his arms to face him. Petting his ears as he cooed into your touch “Aww Tae I told you I’d manage it”

Jin’s ringtone killed the silence and he dashed out telling you to call if any problems arose.

Thereafter you got the boys settled into Taehyung’s room. With a sigh you went and faceplanted into your sheets only to have Taehyung come and crawl beside you. After half an hour when you tried to get up Taehyung just grumbled and held you tighter.”

“Tae i have to go to”

“work I know” He said with a sigh reluctantly letting you go.

“Today’s a chilled day we will be done early. Besides, you guys can use this time to bond and make friends.” At his whine, you kissed the top of his head. “ please? For me, try?”

Six weeks later all of you have somewhat of a comfortable rythym in the household. On a day off you decided it would be fun to go to the beach. Jimin offered to pack a picnic for everyone and Jungkook and Taehyung were moody on the drive over because they didn't think of it first. You had also told him since he was so helpful he could sit in the passenger seat and Jimin spent the whole ride grinning like the cat who got the cream.

Once there you were happy to let the boys wander off to their heart's content after setting up your belongings under a beach umbrella.

Jungkook had other plans. He worked very hard on his physique and although shy he still remembers the first time he came back shirtless from a run and found you on the couch. You tried to hide it but He knows you checked him out and you were definitely attracted to him the way your eyes hungrily racked over his body. Since that day he would be on the lookout for any golden opportunities to be close to you. Honestly, Taehyung had it made. You were kind, smart, hardworking, and breathtakingly beautiful. So often he dreamt of you as his and he knew the others thought the same. Officially though he was still a foster, Jimin had reminded him that morning and their place here wasn't secured so Jimin said he was gonna up the Ante. At first, Jungkook ignored him and went to shower but when he emerged to the sound of you praising Jimin for coming up with such a cute and thoughtful idea, He knew he needed a plan of his own.

Taehyung excused himself for the bathroom and Jimin was looking around for the cooler box. He decided to go and check in the car leaving Jungkook alone with you. This was his moment. He stripped himself of his shirt and innocently asked if you would come to the water with him. He rationalized his need for an escort being that he was not used to such big crowds of people and thus managed to convince you out of your sundress to reveal your bikini and guide him by the hand towards the water.

Jungkook was Jungshook at the two-piece and how you looked in it enjoying the view until some guy came out trying to talk to you. That snapped him out of his daze and he flung you over his shoulder and bolted into the water trying to shield your body for his admiration alone. You were having a ball of a time and Jungkook got to stay near you and hold you claiming to save you from sharks if you found any.

Jimin had stomped away to the car and after retrieving the cooler box which he was pretty sure Jungkook was supposed to carry happily bounded to the store to get ice for the drinks on the way back. He also spotted a local artist doing caricatures and thought to remember to bring you over later for a couple picture together. He knew you weren't a couple but Jimin was smitten for you. He was slightly confused as to why Tae didn't have a romantic relationship with you, or at least you weren't his mate so he still had a shot. The only thing in his way now was the little maknae and his cute bunny-like stupid smile and ‘helpful groping’. Jungkook certainly wasn't shy in trying to subtle scent you when you were distracted anymore, not like how it was when they first arrived. No, they had gone from not trying to interfere with your and Tae’s relationship to wanting their own with you, a romantic one. The mystery now was why arent you and Taehyung together? Was it because he was a hybrid or was he just not the right guy? did you reject Taehyung before? Did you get rejected by Taehyung and now he regrets it and wants you back? Jimin didn’t care he wanted you and that was final. Even if you never returned his feelings even just being by your side could be enough for him, enough that he could get over sharing your affection with Taehyung after all he was the first even if he hates to admit it.

Taehyung almost dropped the Icecream cones in his hands.

Its been so long since you two had come to the beach, in fact, the last time was when Yoongi had hinted at you two being an adorable couple. Taehyung had gotten you ice cream to share and you had some dribble down from your mouth to your chin. Taehyung did it before his brain was able to process the action, he licked a stripe from your chin to your lips lingering for a second before placing a chaste kiss there. You were embarrassed, to say the least, and Tae hid his own embarrassment by getting up to toss a ball back to a bunch of kids playing volleyball. When he came back he noticed you with some of Yoongi’s cocktail and the two of you managed to finish the jug just between the two of you. Later at home Yoongi and Hoseok took to the twin beds in Tae’s room and you pulled him into your room. Tae had discovered you were really handsy and although he wanted you so badly you were both too drunk to do more than sleep after a sloppy makeout session. The next morning you had woken up first and Left some water and ibuprofen with an apple by his side. His morning wood making him panic in short horror prompting a quick cold shower. While he discarded his clothes he saw your underwear that you had slept in still coated in fragments of your arousal, on top of the laundry hamper and grabbed it as he stepped in the shower. It was the first time he had taken your underwear.

Yoongi had told him then to let you bring it up- the idea of you guys figuring out what you want moving forward as it was clear to him and Hoseok that you two were lusting after one another but was it anything more? Taehyung was in the midst of figuring out his feelings for you and what everything meant and how things were going to be different but you came in the apartment with breakfast goodies in tow. You managed to still look effortlessly beautiful in the morning and Tae was so happy that you got him his favourite things for breakfast from your waffle house.

“Tae, I’m so sorry about yesterday i was super drunk”

“I was drunk too Y/N its fi-”

“No it’s I'm sorry can we just forget this all happened i don't want to loose you Tae I love you. Can we move on please?”

Taehyungs heart shattered across the floor but he nodded and to put insult to injury you kissed his cheek before scolding Hobi for drinking The hot chocolate you meant for Taehyung and yourself.

“I’m sorry lil bro. If you wanna stay with us we can share my room, i have a double bed and Hobi can-”

“Its okay Yoongi- Hyung. I can keep it together for now, ill give it some time and if that doesn't work I’ll confess and we work from there. For now, her loving me is enough, even if its just friends. This love and adoration from her is enough.”

It’s Not Fucking Enough. Not anymore. That was then when he had you all to himself, No new boss keeping you at work always hugging you, No Bunny, no Cat. No it was war now, and Tae has just about reached his limit.

#kim taehyung x reader #hybrid bts x reader #hybrid!jimin #hybrid!taehyung #hybrid!jungkook #maknaelinexreader #btsfic #taehyung x reader

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siancore · 4 years ago

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Baked With Love Part 2

Read Part 1 Here

Summary:

Bucky Barnes’ family owns a bakery in a small town. High school has long been over, and Bucky is dying to move to the city to pursue a musical career with his band. And his future looks promising, if he can just persuade his father to let him leave his job behind at their struggling family bakery.

It is no secret that Bucky used to love baking with his father, but things change. He just can’t fathom wasting his life away watching rising dough and hot ovens. With his mind made up to leave, Bucky convinces his father to advertise for a replacement. While interviewing candidates to fill the position he has vacated, Bucky meets Sam Wilson: An easy-going guy who is as eager about baking as Bucky is about leaving. They bond over baking and become close. Love looks like it is ready to bloom between them if Bucky, in his haste to escape, does not ruin it.

A/N: Part 1 didn’t have a lot of interest and I’m honestly bummed about it, but here’s Part 2 for those who did enjoy it. Meet-cute, maybe?

“Come on, Sam!” called Misty as she and Riley waited on the sofa. “How long does it take to microwave some popcorn?”

Sam rolled his eyes and shouted back from the kitchen, “I’m not microwaving it. I’m cookin’ it in a heated pan.”

Riley smiled and Misty got up from where she was seated to make her way to the kitchen of Sam’s grandmother’s house. She leaned against the doorjamb and folded her arms. Sam turned to look at her, flashing his bright smile.

“You mean to tell me you’re in here cooking the popcorn yourself?” she queried with a raised eyebrow.

Sam shrugged and replied, “Yeah, of course. It tastes better done this way. I can throw in the sea salt and add as much butter as I like. Trust me, you’re gonna love it.”

“Okay, Sammy,” she replied, pushing off the doorframe and backing away. “You’re lucky I trust you.”

…..

The movie was a quarter of the way through and Misty was begging Sam for more popcorn.

“Please, it’s so good. What’d you do to it? I knew you could cook, but damn. You’re even good at popcorn?”

Sam let out an amused laugh and took the empty bowl from his friend.

“It’s different than waiting to use one of the microwaves at the dorms,” said Sam as he sauntered into the kitchen to make some more of the snack for him and his friends. “That’s one thing I don’t miss about school: Having no place to actually cook decent meals.”

“You must be lovin’ it here, then,” said Riley.

“I am. Got the whole kitchen to myself,” said Sam with a somewhat sad little smile.

The movie was long finished, and the three friends lounged about talking.

“I’ve missed this,” Misty proffered. “Us hanging out together.”

“Me, too,” said Sam. “And I miss school, but I needed to do this. I needed to take this time off. And it’s been good. I’m gonna start looking for work, get settled in, and really make the most of it.”

“Find work?” asked Riley with a frown. “How long are you gonna be here, Sam?”

Sam shrugged his shoulders, tilted his head to the side, and said, “Dunno. As long as it takes.”

“What exactly is it?”

“This feeling inside,” Sam tried to explain. “This feeling of being restless and not enjoying things. It’s like, after Gramma passed away, I didn’t feel the same joy for school or cooking or anything like that. I needed to come back here. I hope bein’ here can help me find the joy again, if that makes sense.”

Misty leaned her head on Sam’s shoulder and then said, “It makes perfect sense, baby boy.”

Sam placed his head against hers and smiled.

“Well,” said Misty with a yawn. “I’m gonna head off to bed.”

“You need me to show you?” asked Sam.

“Nah, I got it,” she replied, looking at him and then Riley. “You two have a good night.”

She walked away and then said, “And don’t be too noisy.”

Sam and Riley got through the first half of a well-watched sitcom before Riley spoke up.

“Sammy?”

“Hmm?”

“I’ve missed you.”

Sam turned to look at his ex, proffered a gentle smile and said, “Yeah, I’ve missed you, too.”

Riley returned the grin and then leaned in. His lips came close to Sam’s just before the other man pulled away.

“Woah. Riley? What? What’re you doin’?”

“I – I thought…”

“No,” said Sam as he shifted away.

“I thought me coming here meant –”

“That we were getting back together?”

“Yeah.”

“No. That’s not it at all,” Sam explained, as he stood from where he was sitting. “Nothing’s changed. We’re not getting back together. We talked about this. It was good for a while, but I can’t deal with your clinginess and gaslighting. When I called you out on how you were acting, you blamed me, and that’s not cool. I love you, but we’re not gonna work like that.”

“I know,” said Riley, as he searched Sam’s eyes. “I just thought that with some time apart, we could make it work.”

“It’s not gonna work. You’ve got your issues, and I’ll be your friend, but that’s all I can be. And I’m not here to work out your issues for you, Riley. You understand that, right?”

Riley let his head drop and then said, “I know. I know. I just care about you.”

“And I care about you, too,” said Sam, as he sat back down. “But not like that. Not anymore. I can be your friend, but that’s it. You know that.”

A beat of silence passed between them before Riley lifted his gaze and said, “Yeah, I know. I get it. I do.”

Sam offered a nod of his head and said, “Okay.”

Riley tried to smile back at Sam as he said, softly, “Okay.”

Bucky was excited and pleased that his father had actually agreed to his proposal about hiring someone else to help out at the Bakery. They had put the adverts out and had a decent response. Presently, both father and son were interviewing those who had applied for the job. It was slow going, and, if Bucky was being completely honest, the candidates were not the best.

The first person he interviewed had no experience at all, and while George wanted to help them out with steady work, they just didn’t have the skillset he was looking for. The second interviewee said outright that they didn’t like waking up early. That would be a problem, considering a baker needed to arrive early to start baking. The third had no idea what the job entailed; they were just throwing job applications out into the universe and hoping for the best. The next asked if free pastries were part of the job. The rest were just not right, plain and simple. Bucky was disappointed and his father was tired.

As George cleared away the applications from the table in the back of the bakery. He filed them away and then returned to where his son was seated, head in his hands.

“We tried, Buck,” said George, as he placed a hand to his shoulder. “Sorry, honey. You had a good idea, it just didn’t work.”

Bucky shrugged and said, “Thanks for letting me try. I’m gonna close up and then go hang out with Steve and the guys.”

He then stood and walked out to the front of the shop to lock up.

“How am I ever gonna leave this place?” asked Bucky as T’Challa, Steve, and Okoye gave him sympathetic looks.

“It’ll happen,” said Okoye.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “We’ll find an apartment, soon, and then we’ll be outta here.”

“You know it’s not the end of the world, right?” T’Challa asked.

“I know,” Bucky replied. “I’m just ready to leave. I’m ready for all the gigs we’re gonna play. I’m ready to get out here.”

“True, but we gotta be realistic,” Steve added. “It’ll happen, but it’ll take time. There’s no need to rush.”

“That’s easy for you to say, Stevie,” Bucky replied, feeling crestfallen. “You have options. For me, it’s either stay here and make bread for the rest of my life, or finally try to make this music thing work. That’s it. That’s all I got.”

“Buck –”

“Don’t,” said Bucky as he stood to leave. “I’m gonna go home.”

With that, he made his way toward the exit.

It wasn’t too late by the time Bucky made it home. He searched his pockets for the house keys and then realised his phone wasn’t there. He cursed under his breath and then remembered that he left the device in the Bakery. Sighing loudly, Bucky made his way down to the shop.

He switched on the lights and found the device sitting atop the counter in the front of the Bakery. He leaned against the counter a beat, checked for messages, and then placed the phone securely in his pocket. Out of habit, he walked to the front door to make sure it was locked. Just then, Bucky was startled by a figure on the other side of the door. A friendly face smiled at him and then waved. Bucky vaguely recognized the young man on the other side of the glass. He unlocked the door and then peered out.

“Hey, sorry, we’re closed,” said Bucky, taking in the man’s appearance; he was possibly the cutest guy Bucky had ever seen in his life.

The guy held up a job application and said, “Sorry, but I ah, I heard there was a job going here?”

Bucky found himself staring a moment, before coming to his senses and saying, “Yeah, but uh, you’re gonna have to come back when we’re open.”

“Okay, cool,” said the stranger, flashing a bashful smile.

“Cool,” Bucky replied, at a loss for words and completely struck by the gorgeous face staring back at him.

“I’m Sam, by the way,” the other young man said. “I think I saw you the other day on your scooter.”

Bucky smiled coyly and ran his hand through his hair, “Yeah, that was me. I uh noticed you, too.”

“Cool, well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, man. Tomorrow.”

The pair held one another’s gaze a moment longer as Sam began to back away.

“Wait!” Bucky called out, stopping Sam in his tracks.

“Yeah?” Sam asked, placing his free hand in his pocket.

Bucky cleared his throat and then asked, “Why do you want this job?”

Sam’s face lit up at the question and Bucky thought his heart had stopped beating.

“I just really love to cook,” Sam explained. “Baking especially. I’m going to culinary school, actually; that’s how much I love it. I’m taking a break to sort some things out right now. But I want this job because I can do something I love while I figure things out.”

Bucky gave him a gentle smile and said, “Hey, that’s really nice. We could use someone like you. I mean, it ain’t up to me, but you’re already like a hundred times better than the other applicants.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, dude,” said Bucky as he marvelled at Sam’s pretty brown eyes. “Come back first thing tomorrow and we’ll see what happens.”

“Thanks, man. I appreciate the chance. See you tomorrow,” said Sam as he flashed a bright beam at the other man.

“Yeah,” said Bucky as his tummy did a hundred little flips at the sight of Sam’s smile. “See you soon.”

#sambucky #sambucky fanfiction #siancore: baked with love #awww i honestly think this might be a flop :(#i dunno i dunno i dunno #shall post to ao3 later

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bangtan-madi · 4 years ago

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hello, are you still taking requests for mysme? if so, may i ask for headcanons with jumin and jihyun having a lawyer SO? thank you very much! (ps: jin rights!)

Hi! So sorry this has taken so long. I don't know how long this request has been in here, but my motivation to write the last few MysMe requests has been...lacking, to say the least. I apologize, but I hope you do enjoy these headcanons! (reminder: I don't write for Jihyun, but I went all out on Jumin because...yes. I needed these headcanons in my life) (also...please keep in mind that I haven't played the game in like six months, as my Tumblr content has shifted, so go easy on me xD)

Requests for MysMe are NOT open. This is just me catching up on the few remaining requests from pre-blog change. Thanks for understanding, lovies.

Han Jumin with a lawyer significant other is the power couple of all power couples.

Seriously. I didn't know I needed this until it was put in my Askbox.

We all know that Jumin can be a bit overly logical, out of touch with how others are feeling, especially when it comes to debating or discussing certain things. That's gotten him into a ton of trouble over the years. His friends, especially Zen and Yoosung, rely heavily on their hearts and feelings when making life choices. Even when it comes to simple things, like picking what to eat, they go with what feels right. To Jumin, he's much preferred the logical to his own feelings.

"They're unreliable and change with the weather. I prefer the tried and true."

So when he meets you, an applicant for the company's legal department, he's a tad starstruck. It's an entirely new feeling to Jumin, but not one that he's all that opposed to. When his father referred you, citing a great relationship with your father through their mutual work together, he didn't have very high hopes. Which is why he's lined up several more interviews later in the day.

To say he is pleasantly surprised to find someone who is very complimentary for him is an understatement. Upon first introduction, you present yourself as an individual of the law, of logic, and of stoic reason. The confident yet humble way your carry yourself convinces Jumin that you're exactly what his company needs, and you seal the deal with being able to answer and debate on equal footing with him all throughout the hour-long interview. It's intellectually stimulating and relaxing at the same time. The two of you are on the same wavelength. While your emotions and passion are proven to be powerful, it's because of this beautiful combination of head and heart that Jumin cancels the rest of the interviews.

"We won't be needing them," he tells Jaehee as you exit the building, turning back to throw him an assured smile, as if you already knew he was going to pick you. "I've found exactly what I was looking for."

What's more, what he didn't know at the time that you would tell him sometime later, is that you enjoyed it just as much as he did.

After a few months of working together, you're the one that finally asks Jumin out for a drink. It's the day you win your case against the company that wrongly sued C&R International. It was a case you got thrown into on your very first day. You'd poured hundreds of hours into working it up, which did not go unnoticed by Jumin.

The CEO goes out of his way to make sure you're well taken care of on particularly long days. Making you a cup of coffee just the way you liked it? That's slowly becoming a daily occurrence. Hiring extra assistants to make sure you aren't overworking yourself? He's brought on half a dozen additional support staff for you and you alone. Having his personal chef bring meals for the entire law department under the guise of HR? That's one thing you knew was especially for you, particularly because that chef always had a knack for preparing your favorite meals (You've always had a soft spot for Tteokguk.)

All of this, added to the adrenaline high from a successful Court Order, has you turning to Jumin with the biggest smile plastered on your face.

"Drinks on me! Don't worry. I know a place with the best red wine you've ever tasted."

And he'll admit it proudly: you were right. The wine was impeccable, but what he's more impressed by is the way you've loosened up and grown more comfortable around him over the past six months. His first impression of you is as strong as ever, but there's a very deep and emotional side to you as well. It perplexes him, but it also intrigues him. The way you use both in both your professional and personal life deeply impresses him. You find your strength in both, and leaves this man hanging on to every word you utter.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" you ask towards the end of the night. "You're staring."

Jumin blinks away and takes another sip of the house Merlot, a favorable new find. "Is it that obvious?"

"A bit. What's on your mind?"

"When I first met you, I saw that you were like me. You adhere to intellect and logic and use your mind to make choices. But over the last six months, I also see that you're guided by your heart as well. You have this admirable blend of genius and intuition that, to be honest, both confuses and amazes me."

"How so?"

"Because I'm nothing like that."

These after-work outings and deep conversations continue over the next six months, and pretty soon, you find yourself having been at C&R for a year. On your workiversary, you invite Jumin to your family home to introduce him to your family. They've planned to throw you a one-year party with family and close friends, and you could think of no one you'd want there more than Jumin.

"Wait...aren't I supposed to be doing something for you today, as your boss, [Y/n]?"

You merely grabbed the sleeve of his pinstriped, collared shirt and dragged him towards the front door, where you'd already hailed his car.

"You do things for me every damn day, Han Jumin. Just this once, let me do something for you?"

"What do you mean by that?"

After pushing him into the car, you tell the driver where to go. "You always say how much you admire the way I use my head and heart. But you always, always follow it up with, 'I'm not like that at all.' Well, I'm here to tell you that you can, too, you big oaf. And there's no one better to show you that you have a heart worth following that my mom and dad, so you're coming with me."

Knowing he has no power to refuse you once you've set your mind on something, the brunet follows you around the entire night. While you talk with your friends, while you cook with your mother, while you debate politics with your father, he enjoys it all. Seeing you with them, he sees how you've grown into the person you are today. These people have shaped you into the strong, independent, confident person you are, the one he's harbored feelings for in secret over the past few months. Through them--and you--he begins to see the world in a new light.

It's on that night, on the way home, that he asks you out for a first real date. He escorts you to your apartment, ensuring your safe arrival, and asks the question without any lead-up.

"How do you feel about a movie tomorrow?"

Though surprised, you can't help but smile from a few stairs ahead of him, putting you at equal height.

"That's an awfully normal thing to do on a Saturday night."

He gives a small smile and shrugs.

"What excuse can I give? Maybe you were right. Maybe I have a heart worth following, and right now it's telling me to spend as much time with you as I can. So...what do you say?"

"I say..."

You trail off, lean over to press a peck to his cheek, and stand back with a giddy grin plastered on your face.

"That you're pretty cheesy when you wanna be, Juminie."

"Is that a pet-name I hear?"

"Yep! And it's not going away any time soon. Pick me up at seven?"

"I'll be here."

You turn towards the door to your apartment, blowing a kiss in his direction as you slip away. Jumin stands there for another few seconds as you leave his sight, and--shaking his head--he turns back to the car.

"Confused and amazed, indeed."

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straykats · 4 years ago

Text

this isn’t out of sympathy, not anymore

pairing: kim seungmin x reader

wordcount: 3.4k

warnings: none

a/n: requested! originally an enemies to lovers request, but idk if this ending count as exactly “lovers” yet? this is so long overdue i’m so sorry. and the title sucks too rip :(

On a Sunday morning, one would normally enjoy the pleasures of sleeping in; of the sounds of birds outside and morning traffic below. They would wake up late, have what could be considered a brunch, and sit down with a book and a cup of coffee

But that wasn’t how things were for you.

The clattering of pots and pans could be heard, followed by the familiar ticking of the stove.

“Damn it.” With a groan, you roll to the other side and try to block out the sound with a pillow, your mind chasing for a dream long lost. You soon come to the acceptance that it was futile to try and fall back asleep.

This was not the ideal start to the week.

It had been just over a week since Seungmin moved into the flat with you, and it had proven to be an odd sort of hell, fueled by the mutual dislike for one another.

“What are you doing? It’s barely 9am.” You poke your head out of the doorway, squinting at the sun reflecting off the white walls of the apartment.

Seungmin turns at the sound of your voice - something about him strikes you as odd - and glares. “Making breakfast, obviously.”

Any worry immediately leaves your system. “Jeesh, I was just asking!” He ticked you off - you didn’t even know why. It had always been like that since you first met him in school. “No need to glare.”

“Idiot, you were the one glaring at me first.” He rolls his eyes and turns back around.

Oh, he had mistaken your sensitivity to the light as disgust. He wasn’t too wrong, but it hadn’t been your intention. “Yeah, well you can blame the sun. Can’t you do that-” You jut your chin out in his general direction. “-later?”

“Some of us have a lot of work to do, y/n. We don’t all get to sleep in.”

You deadpan. “Seungmin, you do this every morning.”

He throws his hands up, and you spare a thought for how funny it’d be if the spatula flew from his hand. “I’m a morning person. Sorry.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

The two of you barely speak another word to each other for the rest of the day. Maybe it was because Seungmin was locked in his room the entire time, but you weren’t too sure that anything would be different if he hadn’t been locked in his room.

When you had put up the advertisement looking for a flatmate (for rent was not cheap), there had been only a few people who had been interested. It was weeks into the academic year, and most people were already settled. Of the four who had contacted you, you had chosen Seungmin, who unfortunately but surprisingly seemed the most tolerable. In hindsight, you thought, it might have been because you felt more comfortable with him. Yeah, you guys didn’t get along, but you knew him, and the people around him. It was a safe choice.

Come dinner time, and you had still not seen Seungmin. Thinking about it… had he even had lunch?

You were aware that he had some major music assignment coming up, worth almost half his grade. He had even bothered to ask you about his composition, to listen to a rough audio file and see how it was, and you had tried to be civil and rational in your answers. Nothing too rude (it wasn’t a bad composition; being rude to Seungmin just came as a habit) but nothing too nice. You’d like to think that your feedback had been objective.

Dinner was nothing fancy - it rarely ever was. You had before you a bowl of rice and eggs, your laptop playing your favourite show. As if he had sensed your earlier thoughts about him, Seungmin comes out of his room. You glance at him - his hair is tousled, brows furrowed and glasses askew.

“So, were you sleeping or working all day?”

When he gives you the weakest glare in the history of glares, you realise what it was that had struck you as strange that morning. His complexion was paler than usual, and you noticed the redness high on his cheeks now.

Stupidly, you dismiss it. Seungmin was old enough to take care of himself. Right?

Nope.

You jump when something shatters against the kitchen floor.

“What are you- Seungmin, what the hell?!”

On the floor, patterned shards of what had once been a cup were splayed out. The boy in question stood with a hand against the counter and another against his head.

“Sorry, dizzy spell,” he murmurs. You could barely hear him, for he spoke so quietly.

“Just- Just go lay down or something. I’ll clean up.”

The shattering had made you hyper-aware of Seungmin - the way he carried himself now, the way his eyes were barely open, his brows furrowed and hands shaking slightly. It was like the sound had cleared your head or slapped you in the face, telling you to wake up and pay attention!!!

“Oh, so you aren’t a complete-” He cuts off abruptly with a groan, holding his head.

“Well at least I’m not stupid enough to force myself to work until i’m… like that.” You eye him with raised brows, but your spirits weren’t really onboard with teasing him. Watching him as he leaves, you start to worry about how unwell he actually was - surely a night’s rest would help, right?

It takes you only a few minutes to clean up the shards - thankfully, the cup had broken into decently sized pieces. There were only a few small ones laying around, but they were quickly collected with a dustpan.

In a stroke of sympathy, you go to Seungmin’s room. He was normally very on-top of his health, and as much as you hated to admit it, it scared you to see him like this.

But when you get to his door, you hesitate. You couldn’t really go barging in, could you? Not that you were planning to be barbaric about it, or come in demanding answers or anything. Instead, you put your ear to the door. If he was still up, typing or scribbling away, you’d bust in and force him to rest.

Not that you cared too much. As his flatmate, it was probably your job to take him to the doctors - or the hospital - if something were to happen. You’d be the one dealing with the trouble and all, and it was easier to prevent it, right?

The evening progresses into night, a sombre silence filling the flat. It must have been around midnight when you heard Seungmin’s door open. You froze in your bed, pausing the music playing through your earphones. He must be going to eat, you realise. He hadn’t eaten dinner and had instead gone straight to bed.

Silently, you leave your bed and watch from your doorway as he peers into the fridge. The yellow light from the fridge was the only thing that lit up the kitchen.

“You need to rest, not mess up both your sleep schedule and your meal times.”

“Has anyone ever told you that sick people need to eat too?” He reaches into the fridge and pulls out two eggs. It isn’t until he takes out a pan that you move in.

“You like them scrambled, right?” Taking the eggs from his hand, you crack the eggs into the pan. “Go make your ramyun.”

“Why… are you cooking my eggs for me? And how do you know I like my eggs scrambled?”

“Scrambled for ramyun, sunny side up for rice.” You shoot him a grin. “You’re a simple being, Kim Seungmin.”

You stayed in the kitchen while Seungmin ate. You busied yourself with washing the pan, and then getting yourself a glass of water. These tasks were completed rather quickly, and you were left to lean awkwardly against the counter while Seungmin finished his meal. Would it be strange to go to your room and get your phone? Probably.

Seungmin speaks up, breaking the awkward tension. “You can go back to sleep, you know. I’ll be fine.”

“I wasn’t sleeping before.”

“You should have been.”

“I could say the same back to you.”

Seungmin looks at you over his noodles but doesn’t reply.

“Well, go to sleep when you’re done eating. Don’t stay up late. I will call Hyunjin and make him tie you to the bed if I need to.”

You turn and make your way to your room, trying not to laugh at Seungmin choking on his noodles.

“You don’t even have his number!”

The phrase “disappointed but not surprised” seemed very applicable to the scene you saw at two in the morning. It snapped you right out of your half-asleep state.

“This idiot-”

Seungmin was slumped over in his chair, his head resting on his arm. One of his earphones dangling off the side of the table, the other end plugged into his laptop. The bowl of ramyun sat to the side, chopsticks carefully balanced on top.

Making your way closer, you shake him awake gently. It was almost shocking how warm his arm was, even through his clothes - you were a little cold, for it was the middle of the night.

“Seungmin. Seungmin, wake up.” Upon hearing a disgruntled sound come from him, you prod him again. “You’re an idiot, you know that? Why are you sleeping out here, and why did you start doing work again?!”

“Thought I could-” he clears his throat, eyes half open as he sits up. “Thought I could do some work while I ate… Must have fallen asleep.”

“No shit, genius.” You grab his laptop in one hand, being sure not to shut the lid incase you delete any of his work. Using your other, you shake his shoulder again. “Come on, you’re already unwell. Stop forcing your body.”

You walk a few steps towards his room before turning back. Seungmin was still in the chair, hunched back and arms dangling between his legs. His eyes were closed, head nodding as he tried to keep it up.

With a defeated sigh, you put his laptop on his desk before coming back out for him. “Come on, up you get…”

You grab onto his arm and almost sigh at the warmth it radiates. Another hand was on his back to help guide him to his room.

It hits you as you pull the cover back on his bed that… well, you’d never been inside his room. Sure, you’ve stood at the door to bicker, but never had you gone inside. You hadn’t really ever had much physical contact with him either.

You make your escape with a mumble about getting medicine. He’s in his bed when you come back, laying straight and facing the ceiling like Snow White.

“Here, take these,” you say gently, bending down to help him up with one hand. You feel a bit bad, to have made him lay down only to get back up. Handing him the painkillers, you watch as he washes them down with a gulp of water. “Gosh, one minute we’re arguing and the next, I’m your mother…”

Handing you back the glass without a word, he slides back down under the covers. Having placed the glass down on his bedside table, you stay there for a while and look at the pictures he had hung on the wall. You recognised some people - Hyunjin, for one, and another boy with fox-like eyes that you had seen once or twice. You recognised some of the seniors in school too - the ones who had been in a band with Seungmin.

At the sound of rustling, you look over to see that Seungmin had turned onto his side and was looking at you.

“Amazed that I have friends?”

“I- no, I never thought that you were a friendless loner. I just… I mean, I guess it’s my fault,” you admit sheepishly. “I just never really considered your social circle to seem so… wholesome?”

He laughs lightly, keeping his eyes on you. He looked tired, and his hair fell across his forehead. Cute, you thought, and then quickly snap your head around to look at the photos again.

Cute? Well, you had never considered him ugly before. He wasn’t - he was fairly good looking, and it used to annoy you when the kids at school wouldn’t stop talking about the honey-vocaled Seungmin… But he did have a good voice, you has to admit. And he was fairly smart and very passionate about music. But he was annoying. Yes, he was annoying. Too annoying. He wakes up too early, you could never deal with that.

It doesn’t take long for him to speak up again.

“You know, I read a story once.”

You hesitate, having only just settled your mind. Was this an invitation to engage in conversation? To stay? Or just an attempt at breaking the awkward silence? Instead of replying, you take a seat on the floor, leaning against the bedside table. Seungmin takes the silence as a sign to continue.

“There was a prince, and he was sick, and the servant girl never left his side even though he had been a cruel prince. She tended to him night after night, prepared his bath, changed his sweat-drenched sheets.” you crinkle your nose at that, and Seungmin laughs. “But when he was better, everything went back to normal.”

“Did he ever thank her?”

Seungmin shook his head. “He was a prince, afterall. No need for him to thank a servant for doing what they were supposed to do.” He sees you tense. “Don’t worry, y/n, I’m no prince, and you’re no servant.”

“Then you better do your own dishes tomorrow morning,” you joke.

“Ah, no sympathy for the sick?” He pouts weakly. His eyes are closed and his voice is softer. You become conscious of your movements. Subtle, nothing too quick or too loud.

The room is dimly lit. The cool moonlight came from the window, and on the opposite end came the kitchen light, slipping past the door left ajar.

Seungmin speaks up after a while of silence. “You know you can go, right? I don’t need your presence to bore me to sleep.”

You can’t help but let out a smile at his words - an effort to be himself, you realise, but there seemed no real annoyance behind the words.

“Well, you might not need the boredom, but you need to sleep.”

“Touche.”

It takes a while, and you find yourself nodding in and out of sleep. When your head suddenly hits the edge of his mattress, you decide it was finally time to reutnr to your own room.

Your legs are numb, jumping with pins and needles, but you hobble out of Seungmin’s bedroom with only one look back at him, who was sleeping soundly.

It was strange to find yourself the first one awake. The flat seemed oddly empty, and you kind of missed the smell of fried eggs and cooked rice. You open the curtains in the main living area, letting sunlight flood into the flat.

It was Monday. A new morning, a new week, a new beginning.

You look around the flat - things really have changed since Seungmin moved in. Signs of his occupance were everywhere - a guitar pick laying on the coffee table, a hoodie on the couch. His bowl of ramyun, unwashed and left in the sink.

Ah, right. Last night.

Butterflies seemed trapped inside your body as you walked towards Seungmin’s room. Why were you nervous? Surem you don’t normally go to his room to wake him up, but he was sick, right? It was just… a friendly gesture, right?

Friendly. The word struck an odd chord within you.

Knocking tentatively on his door with one hand, you lean in close.

“Seungmin, are you up?”

There’s a hum, muffled by the wooden door. You turn the knob and peer in. It’s dark, sunlight peeking out from behind a closed curtain. You can see Seungmin, curled up under his blanket. It was pulled up to his chin.

“How’re you feeling?”

He lets out a positive sounding hum. You don’t push him further.

“Well, I’m going to make breakfast… do you want any?”

Seungmin sits up, his eyes still closed. You watch as he takes a deep breath. “Yes, please.”

As he starts to pull the covers off himself, you close the door.

Quickly scanning the fridge, you take out some fish and green leaves. It doesn’t take long to cook up a simple meal of pan fried fish and boiled greens. Instant rice is out fresh from the microwave and you’re doing the dishes when Seungmin emerges from his room.

“What happened to me having to do my own dishes?” He asks, as he takes a seat behind the counter. He eyes the fish and boiled vegetables, taking in a deep breath.

“Sympathy for the sick, or something like that,” you say with a shrug. “Half of these were from cooking just then, anyways.”

“Smells good.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

You glance over at Seungmin as he turns his eyes to the clock. He did look better - his cheeks were still a little flushed, but he seemed better. He was moving better too, not as sluggish as yesterday. He looked like he had attempted to brush down his hair, but a tuft at the back still stood up. You hide your smile, turning back to the dishes.

“Hey, thanks, by the way.”

“Hmm?”

“For last night. Taking care of me.”

With warm cheeks, you stack the last of the dishes aside to dry. “Again, sympathy for the sick or whatever.”

“Y/n.”

Turning at your name, you find him looking very intently at you.

“I’m serious. Thank you.”

You gulp, and the only thing that calms you a little is the realisation that his cheeks aren’t pink from feeling unwell anymore.

“Yeah, I know,” you say softly.

He looks up at you, and you awkwardly fiddle with the towel hanging off the cupboard doors under the sink. It was undeniable that something had changed after last night - the dyanmic between the two of you were different now, and you weren’t too sure how you felt about it.

“Okay. Cool. Can I eat?”

The question catches you off guard, strangely, but you nod and take out plates. “I- I was going to just fry an egg for you, but i decided you probably need a change after last night.” part of your brain was panicking - but why? “We had fish, so I thought hey, why not, right? This probably isn’t much of a better meal, but-”

“It looks great, y/n. Thanks.” He takes a bite and chews thoughtfully. “By the way, you don’t…” Seungmin clears his throat. “Do you actually have Hyunjin’s number?”

You give him a sweet smile, clasping your hands behind your back. “You’ll never know, will you?”

You don’t, but the slight twitch of his eye and subtle pout are worth it.

Shaking his head, he looks back at his food. He seemed very concentrated on separating a single grain of rice. “I’m just asking, jeesh. It’s an innocent question.”

“Innocent. Right. Anyways, I need to get ready to go. Class starts in a bit.”

You make your way to your room and change, gathering laptop and notebooks. When you exit, Seungmin’s at the sink, washing his plate.

“Don’t strain yourself while I’m gone, okay? Actually, just sleep while I’m gone,” you say from the hallway as you put your shoes on.

Seungmin’s head pops around the corner suddenly, and you see him take a deep breath.

“What time do you finish?”

“... 12:30, why?”

Having finished with your shoes, you sling your bag over your shoulder.

“Do you- Can I-” He cuts off and swallows thickly. “Lunch? Can I treat you to lunch?”

Your eyes widen, and you freeze.

“As a thank you, obviously,” he adds, but it’s only half convincing.

“I told you, it’s fine. Sympathy for the sick, right?” You joke, trying to ease your nerves.

He manages a small quirk of the lips. “C’mon, let me treat you. And don’t say yes out of sympathy.”

Well, things were different now, right?

“Sure, why not.”

You could see his shoulder relax, a strand of hair falling into his face as he exhales. “Great. I’ll… I’ll meet you at the front of your building then?”

When you give him a nod, you can see him trying to keep in a smile.

“See you later, then.” He pops back behind the wall, and you hear from the kitchen, “Have a good day!”

Letting out a small laugh, you ignore the buzz in your veins as you open the door.

“It’s a date, Kim Seungmin!”

#kim seungmin #kim seungmin x reader #kim seungmin fluff #kim seungmin angst #kim seungmin imagines #kim seungmin drabbles #stray kids angst #stray kids drabbles #stray kids fluff #strat kids angst #stray kids #stray kids imagines

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soyeahitsmiddleearth · 5 years ago

Text

Multi-Dimensional pt. 1

The Company x Reader

I would love more parts of this tbh. But I would also love a scenario just like this but involving The Company??? Maybe? If you feel up to it. __In reference to the fellowship one I recently posted.

Living on a farm kinda far from other people was a very conscious decision.

It’s not like you just up and left and decided to do it on a whim or anything, this was calculated carefully and planned accordingly.

There are two very important reasons why you chose to live a bit further from the neighborhoods, semi-rural if you will, and these two reasons include; A. your desire to have as many animals as you want, and B. not wanting to deal with BS constantly in a crowded neighborhood or apartment complex.

It’s not that you dislike people or anything like that (though you do like animals more), but being surrounded by them 24/7 isn’t something you much like.

Now one may wonder; how do you manage to afford an updated country house with multiple animals as well as yummy home-cooked meals and other leisure’s?

Well, the answer to that is quite simple.

Not all of the animals are actually yours.

You’re an animal sitter/trainer. And not just any animal sitter, but one with a degree and huge amounts of land and access to numerous pet care supplies. You have a friend, a very good friend, who owns a share of a large scale farm and pet care grocery chain, so you literally get everything for either half the price or literally free. And your rates as a pet sitter with a degree and previous experience are freaking massive.

Like, up to $25/hour maximum, massive. For multiple days, and sometimes a week.

Saying you’re loaded is an overstatement, but very well off suffices.

Anyways, you live pretty simply. You take care of your animals, go out around the city and have someone watch the house, eat some good dinner, and just… relax.

It’s never lonely when you’ve got so many excellent animals to keep you company, or at least, not really. Sometimes you do wish you had someone else to share your life with, someone to talk about things with (who will actually respond) and to hold you and tell you everything’s okay when things are going bad…

Damn you want a boyfriend, one that’s the complete opposite of your last one.

“Maybe he was the best I could do…” You grumble, then slap the sides of your face, “No… no, don’t think that. If I’m meant to be in a relationship, my future love will simply teleport into my living room *I stole this from a funny tweet* . Otherwise, I will remain single. Like my dogs, kinda…” You grumbled to yourself last night before you went to bed.

Maybe you shouldn’t have said that, because when you wake up that next morning in your pile of fur (2 dogs and 3 cats) and head downstairs to begin your morning feeding ritual, you’re met with the sight of 14 dudes sprawled about in your immaculate living room, getting mud on your carpet and… are those weapons?

Be careful what you wish for, I guess.

If this was meant to be a robbery attempt, then they butchered it horribly.

You turn and go into your kitchen and put multiple kettles on the stove, intending to just make… all of the tea in your cupboard.

When your two puppies came trotting down the stairs after you, you walk about out of the kitchen and watch them, and the moment they catch wind of the pile of men in your house they are on alert. You attempt to stop them from running over, but they are already sniffing around them and pawing at their faces curiously before you can so much as call their names.

“Good God, why can’t I just have a normal day?” You mumble to yourself, inching over slowly when your fluffy brown and white floofer Yeti, literally, sits on a very small blond man. And then you realize, they’re all kinda small. Or short, thicc👌if you may, since they are more buff and not fat (not all of them at least).

Your other dog, Copper, continues to sniff around (ever the paranoid pup, good boy) but eventually goes back to you instead of trying to suffocate that blond dude.

When you’re sure they’re still out-cold, you return to the kitchen and scrounge up 14 mugs and glass cups and get the tea steeping, sighing as you search your cupboard for something to put out. Damn it if they were planning on robbing you at… ax-point, then you’re going to be so freaking hospitable and generous that they’ll regret even thinking of it (realistically you’re not worried because Yeti and Copper can definitely eat them whole).

Eventually, you find some platters leftover from a party you were invited to a few days ago (you got to keep the leftovers), so you bring them out to the coffee table near where they’re hanging out and just set it out, then return to the kitchen in shifts and bring the mugs out two or three at a time (three if you’re feeling especially daring). Pretty soon everything is out, so you then decide to take the weapons you have immediate access to and hide them.

Of course, your definition of ‘hiding them’ is putting them all on your love seat and covering it with a blanket.

You assume they probably have more hidden in various places on their bodies and under their clothes, but you’re not gonna even consider taking those.

Once you’re 100% done with your anti-robbery check-list, you lay down on your couch with your feet facing them and begin to read the book you left on your coffee table the night before.

Right when you begin to wonder if any of them are even alive, some begin to groan and move around sluggishly.

You hear a couple worried 'Bilbo?’s’ and someone say either 'kill’ or 'Kili’, so you get up and retreat to your kitchen in case they get violent.

Someone screams muffled-ly and you assume the blond guy has awakened.

As soon as the guy screams most of them jump to their feet and begin to look around wildly, and you duck beneath the counter and peek out from the side nervously.

“Where is my ax!?” Someone yells with an accent.

“What in Mahal is sitting on Bilbo?!” Another yells.

“Master Baggins!"

"Is that food?"

Everything goes quiet when someone yells about the food, and then there’s some shuffling and rustling of plastic and Yeti comes trotting into the kitchen. A triumphant smirk settles on your face, and you slowly stand and see that they’re all standing and looking down at the coffee table.

"Is this for us?” The small blond man who Yeti seemed to like, asks.

You decide now is the time for your dramatic entrance. “Yes, it’s for you.”

At the sound of your voice, they all whirl around and look at you with wide eyes, pushing the same small blond behind them as they reach for the hidden weapons you knew they had.

You don’t say anything.

“You didn’t even search us properly!” One of the taller brown-haired ones exclaims, oh he’s kinda cute, with a smug smirk on his face.

Okay, wow that’s insulting. He’s definitely insinuating that you’re dumb, definitely. “Excuse me, I know very well that you had stuff in your clothes, but I didn’t much like the idea of invading your personal space."

Now you get confused looks and no response.

"Besides, I took all your big weapons and I know that they must’ve meant something to you. I’ll hold them hostage if you try to rob me."

More confused looks, then a raven-haired guy, the one who pushed the blond behind them, speaks up, "Where are our weapons?"

You resist the urge to look over at the horribly hidden pile of swords, daggers, single bow, and axes under the blanket on your love seat and state, "I’ve hidden them somewhere you’ll never find them!” You yell, “You can tear this house apart brick by brick and you’ll still never find them! I’ve put them somewhere so-”

“It’s under that blanket, isn’t it?” A blond guy with a braided mustache asks.

You take a pause and look over to exactly where he’s talking about.

It’s completely silent for about 30 seconds until you realize you should probably deny it.

“…No."

Yeah, there’s literally the hilt of a blade and the bow sticking out from under it.

Some of them seem more amused than alert now, and you realize you’ve succeeded in making them see you as not a threat.

You clear your throat awkwardly, and look away from the blanket, "L-Lets not read too much into that. What’s really important here is that you are literally the worst robbers I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting.” You glare at the lot of them before a big smile suddenly spreads across your face, “Oh! I got you snacks by the way, and my name is Y/N.”

A couple of them exchange weird looks, probably because you’re totally psyching them out, and you can tell they’re beginning to question your sanity. And that’s where they go wrong, because once they know your name and grow attached, then there’s no way they’ll be able to hurt or rob you.

The raven-haired dude, he seems to be the leader of this operation, steps forward, “We are no robbers.” Is all he says as if that clears everything up.

“Um, then why are you in the middle of my house? Seems pretty robber-y from where I’m standing."

He purses his lips and looks at you intensely as if he’s trying to stare you into submission, but you will not be intimidated.

"No excuse, then?” You ask.

He sighs quietly when he realizes, ultimately, that you’ve got a point. “Truthfully, I have no memory of how we got to be here.” The half-man pauses to collect his thoughts, then continues, “I don’t know where we are, nor do any of us. This place is foreign and everything is odd… and new."

You tap your foot a couple of times and cross your arms over your chest, not really believing it but also not-not believing it since they are rather peculiar.

"If you’re not robbers then tell me something only a not robber would say!” Getting them to underestimate you is key.

You get more weird looks and some of them actually laugh, bingo, before the same guy speaks again, “We… we’re not going to rob you?"

For a few moments, you pretend to deliberate over what he said, then nod, "Well damn, why didn’t you say so before?” Some tense shoulders relax, then you continue, “Anywaaayyys, I made tea and that blond fellow in the back looks kinda skinny so help yourselves to the platters I’ve set out. Oh, yes, also I hope none of you are afraid of dogs, cats, snakes, turtles, or small rodents because they’re literally everywhere."

"Are you not being too hasty in accepting us into your home?” The black-haired dude asks slowly, looking around at the rest of the people around him.

Yes, he has a point you know, but there’s something that tugs at your heartstrings when you look at this disheveled group of short men. Their eyes are sunken and tired with bags big enough to cost you extra on a flight, they are dirty and some of them a bit bloody, they look so hungry, and there’s just a horrible exhausted and negative haze settled over the lot of them. They just look so damn pathetic and sad, and god that small blond and the brown-haired pretty guy look like sad little puppies-

It then occurs to you that they are, essentially, strays, and that thought softens your hard outer-shell.

You have to help them.

You let a smaller smile upturn the corners of your lips as you say a bit quieter and more serious, “Maybe I am. I don’t know who you are or if you’re telling me the truth, but even I can see that something isn’t right here. You all look tired and hungry, a-and if I turn you away knowing something’s wrong, what kind of person does that make me?”

You’ve done it plenty of times with dogs and feral cats before, and they can be just as dangerous.

It seems that they’re all listening to what you have to say, so you go on, “I have the means to help and Yeti has taken to your blond man-child,” you gesture to your fluffy boy who is pawing at said guy in search of head pats, “And… something in my heart is telling me that I shouldn’t send you away.” You tap your fingers against your elbow a couple times, then say softly, “Please don’t make me regret it…"

There are a few moments of silence before the person you were talking to responds again, "We will try to cause no trouble for you."

You nod your head and turn to go back into the kitchen, whistling for Yeti and Copper to come follow you. "I’m going to be out for 10 minutes, don’t cause trouble.” Leaving them by themselves is the ultimate test of how trustworthy they are, and you’ll only be just outside feeding the animals so you can hear everything.

“We won’t."

You’ll have to see.

328 notes · View notes

luluwquidprocrow · 4 years ago

Text

and i’ve written pages upon pages trying to rid you from my bones

originally posted: august 25th, 2019

word count: 13,060 words

rated: not rated

beatrice/bertrand/lemony

heavy angst, canon compliant, with enough canon divergence that makes the canon compliance worse, epistolary

summary:

and if you don’t love me, let me go.

[a much less than 200 pages break up letter.]

opening notes:

title from the engine driver by the decemberists

By the time you read this

I guess an at least interesting description of us could be like ships passing in the night

I think now is

I think now might be the time for us to

First of all, I have canceled my subscription to the Daily Punctilio, which was just a good move on my part to begin with, and second of all, I couldn’t believe all that anyway, but third of all, do you know, Lemony

You’ll think me such a damn hypocrite, won’t you.

Why now? Why would I

Why would you do this now?

My Heart and I

ENOUGH ! we're tired, my heart and I.

We sit beside the headstone thus,

And wish that name were carved for us.

The moss reprints more tenderly

The hard types of the mason's knife,

As heaven's sweet life renews earth's life

With which we're tired, my heart and I.

II.

You see we're tired, my heart and I.

We dealt with books, we trusted men,

And in our own blood drenched the pen,

As if such colours could not fly.

We walked too straight for fortune's end,

We loved too true to keep a friend ;

At last we're tired, my heart and I.

III.

How tired we feel, my heart and I !

We seem of no use in the world ;

Our fancies hang grey and uncurled

About men's eyes indifferently ;

Our voice which thrilled you so, will let

You sleep; our tears are only wet :

What do we here, my heart and I ?

IV.

So tired, so tired, my heart and I !

It was not thus in that old time

When Ralph sat with me 'neath the lime

To watch the sunset from the sky.

Dear love, you're looking tired,' he said;

I, smiling at him, shook my head :

'Tis now we're tired, my heart and I.

So tired, so tired, my heart and I !

Though now none takes me on his arm

To fold me close and kiss me warm

Till each quick breath end in a sigh

Of happy languor. Now, alone,

We lean upon this graveyard stone,

Uncheered, unkissed, my heart and I.

VI.

Tired out we are, my heart and I.

Suppose the world brought diadems

To tempt us, crusted with loose gems

Of powers and pleasures ? Let it try.

We scarcely care to look at even

A pretty child, or God's blue heaven,

We feel so tired, my heart and I.

VII.

Yet who complains ? My heart and I ?

In this abundant earth no doubt

Is little room for things worn out :

Disdain them, break them, throw them by

And if before the days grew rough

We once were loved, used, — well enough,

I think, we've fared, my heart and I.

-Elizabeth Barrett Browning, who knew what she was talking about

My Dearest Darling,

You call me a lot of things but, to be perfectly frank (not Ernest), Lemony, I think I’ve always liked that one the least. There was that summer where, among other things, Bertrand was trying to come up with nicknames for us in that charming way of his, and he came up with a real mess of awful nicknames and then I came up with the list we could Never Repeat In Public (capitals necessary) and then you said something very sweet to both of us, and anyway, we know what happened there, but the point of this is that you held us close and said, very seriously, that you would never ever ever ever ever (for the span of what I’d figure would be maybe two pages, short but evenly-spaced), no matter what happened, call Bertrand ‘Bert’ and that was damn good of you because Bertrand is not a Bert and never will be. We were right to veto Bertie, as well. He is a Bertrand, through and through. The other point was that you wound up calling us nicknames too but dearest darling was maybe the worst of all of them. Bea was my favorite. I liked the way you said it and I liked the way it sounded and I felt noble perfect unstoppable invincible worried fragile good when you said it. And that was good.

Speaking of, right now, Bertrand is with Kit, and don’t worry, they’re not talking about you (I know how you worry). They’re talking about boats and maps and cooking spices and Widdershins will probably come by later to give them both his version of A Stern Talking To (capitals debatable) about open water expeditions, which will probably be something like, ‘Fire this harpoon at anything suspicious! Aye! Shoot first and ask questions later! Aye!’ and it’s a real miracle that man doesn’t have a whole boatload of albatrosses hanging around somewhere. (Unless he does, and I just haven’t seen it.)

Bertrand and I—well, we’ve kept the house up. Even though he has that thing for natural light, you know what I mean. But we’ve managed to decorate it nicely. I got the Gothic Furniture (capitals required), he got his large windows, there is a last unopened root beer bottle in the fridge because every time we look at it both of us think about how you said it’s impolite to take the last one, and I thought, maybe I’d save it for when you came back but I don’t

The last thing I want is to

Bertrand and I, we’re going out to dinner tonight, because we’re still not all that comfortable with the kitchen yet. I mean, why did we get such a fancy kitchen? I’m sure one of these days I’ll come around to it and it’ll be fine but right now it’s, it seems a hassle, I guess. So we’re going out and I’ve already decided that I’m going to order this truly egregious amount of pasta and no one will stop me!

We don’t really have any plans for tomorrow. As it stands right now. We’ve both been sort of taking things as they come lately. Bertrand, Bertrand’s been very busy. Both of us have been busy, but I think he’s been trying to keep his mind occupied. A lot of us have. Even Hector looks more concerned than he usually does. I saw him the other day—not here, in town—and I didn’t think it was possible for Hector to look that harried. So much has been happening lately, I feel like even I haven’t had time to catch my breath, even in this part of the city. It’s like everything’s been going a mile a minute, taking me with it, and the moments where it stops, the moments where I have the time to think, are unbearably, agonizingly slow. But most of my life has been like that, you know.

And I know, I know you are too. Busy. And concerned.

I know.

When you

Did you

The last performance of our play was three days ago. Since the Daily Punctilio doesn’t have a theater section anymore, Bertrand and I haven’t been reading any rave reviews but we were rereading but, what can you do. Geraldine’s moved on to some other column now too, something about, I don’t even know, tax evasion? Shoes? I can never understand a single thing she writes. Even that ‘Secret Organizations You Should Know About’ thing didn’t even pan out, can you believe that? All she did was write about Esmé! All that trouble for

It looks like it’ll be the last play for a while. I know they wanted us to go on longer, but, well, that’s how it has to be. Don’t know what I’m going to do with myself without a script to lug around, but I’ll probably memorize something for kicks. Gilda Farrell’s lines, maybe, that’d be fun.

But it’d be better if you

This is really the first time I’ve had one of those unbearably slow moments in a while, and of course the first thing I think of is you. You and Bertrand have always filled those gaps for me, but now it’s different. It’s just

I saw Jacques the other day and he

Ramona’s the only one who hasn’t been so

I want to see you so much, Lemony. With everything I have, I want you with me, and I keep hoping that if I close my eyes, when I open them again, there you’ll be, alive and well and next to me and real. Or I’ll walk away from my desk and this letter and when I look back it’ll all have been a bad dream, the worst nightmare I keep stopping and hoping and when you’re not there and I’m still here I

I don’t know how to do this. I can’t

I didn’t want to do it like this.

I don’t want you to I’m, burying the lede, or doing any of this on purpose or anything, because by now you’ve definitely noticed how long this is (although, personally, I’m only at the beginning, but I have a feeling this is going to get long—I know I’ve said I could run laps around the city in the time it takes you to finish a single metaphor but between the two of us we both know I could go on for much longer and will), and you have a vague idea, or a concrete idea, or an idea you don’t want to think about, of where I’m going to go with this. If it was something simple it wouldn’t be like this. If I was just, telling you the news, I wouldn’t need so much time, and I need so much of it. I’m setting the stage trying to making sure I wanted to I can’t just

I am a weak woman, Lemony Snicket. And that is a complete lie, you and I know, but I am a weak woman and I don’t want to be but my hands are shaking.

You and I. You and I know so many things.

So why should we

We both know how to make Ramona laugh, and the right amount of sugar for Olivia’s tea, and where Jacques will be on Tuesdays even though he pretends he doesn’t keep a regular schedule, and where Monty has his keys stashed in his garden, and everything possible about Bertrand, including what book he’s reading right now even though you haven’t been home in two months (it’s still that cat book because he says he wants to see the look on your face when he reads it out loud after dinner) (it’s still that cat book), and what kind of records Kit wants for her birthday even though she never has the time to play them, and even what Esmé is going to eat tomorrow because would you believe that herring is still in, to her continued consternation. She can talk all she wants about how good herring is but I still see that look on her face when she eats it! Every meal, Lemony! I’m giggling as we speak and I wish you could see her because it is one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen in my LIFE

Maybe those things are superficial, but they’re things we know about people, about ourselves, and that counts, doesn’t it? And—and I know what you look like when you wake up and I know what you look like when you’re fixing your typewriter and I have to help and I know what you look like when you think I’m not looking at you, and there was a time where that meant you didn’t look like everyone you knew had just died. You know what I look like at my worst, the worst I ever let you see. You knew it anyway. You It was enough.

And Bertrand. I know I’ve said it before but, you and I were so lucky. Lots of good things came from of this, right? The three of us, you and me and Bertrand. Our apartment and that wallpaper we took down in Bertrand’s when he moved out of his, with those horrendous yellow stripes. The cat we pretended to have and the elaborate medical history we made for it so we’d all have an excuse to go home early. (That poor cat, though. I don’t think it would’ve been possible for it to really survive like that. We should be better to our imaginary pets next time in the future.) Watching Bertrand dance to my records, which was terrible because we hadn’t taught him to dance yet. Trying out those new recipes. Keeping the windows open in the summer. The diner down the street, the ice cream shop on the corner, that night it rained and we all stayed outside and got soaking wet because why not? Bertrand making that excessive amount of soup the next day. You telling us we were the only things that mattered. Bertrand would push your hair out of your face when you were sleeping and I wanted to watch that for the rest of my life. I wanted it to be the last thing I ever saw.

Those moments, every moment. Reading in the dark, losing my glasses, you stopped dead the first time we were out with Bertrand and he was under a streetlamp and you both looked so beautiful and you kissed him for the first time and you didn’t even remember to be nervous.

And those million citations Jacques didn’t give us for public indecency during that spring he was disguised as a police officer. (He was definitely kidding when he brought it up. There was no way he could’ve seen us.)

It makes me so happy, to think about all that. I love you and Bertrand so much. I

Oh Lemony. I don’t think I can do any of this.

-------

In other better happier general news, Gustav let Bertrand and me see the pictures from the wedding, and then he archived them, because we agreed that was for the best, and Bertrand figured you’d probably say the same. I look absolutely stunning, and Bertrand looks incredibly handsome even though he finally admitted he agrees with you, that hat was not his style, and you, Lemony, in that white suit that matched Bertrand’s with those peach-colored flowers because peach is a better color than I ever gave it credit for and it looked so good in the spring because it was the color the wall in the living room turned when the afternoon sun hit, you look

It was such a beautiful day. Still spring, and right after Bertrand’s birthday. Us, Kit, Jacques, Ramona, Olivia, Dewey, Hector. Jerome was invited—or he was supposed to be, who knows what happened there. We barely saw Gustav the whole time too, since he kept climbing up into trees for better angles. The smallest place we could find that would hold all of us and be so out of the way. The cake Kit made, against everyone’s expectations. Ramona cried, because of course she did. All those flowers, no one could move the whole time for walking into at least six bees, but no one minded. So much love. It was palpable, and my whole body was alive with it, with such a soft warmth I could barely breathe. I don’t think I ever stopped smiling, not while dancing or singing or kicking my shoes off because such mortal trappings cannot contain me, or when you and Bertrand danced and you cried, or when a crow flew overhead and we all stopped, just for a single second, before every one of us decided not to care. For a few hours one glorious afternoon.

You look happier than I’ve ever seen you before and now I don’t know if I’ll ever see you like that again or forever and I’m sorry, I was right, I can’t do this, I can’t do this I can’t do this I can’t do this

-------

I’ve taken a few deep breaths and I’m ready to

Oh who am I KIDDING

Lemony I love you so much and I need you so much my heart is going to break with it

justice does not need eyes to see,

but truth built himself eyes

in the porcelain patterns of his world

and let them do the talking

in the skies he

so kindly

let them see,

with the eyes he gave them,

one after another

after another

i was something else

but i lived so close beside

that they could not accuse me

of being blind

but i could’ve seen everything

if i could see with every eye,

one after another

after another

after another,

every eye

a certainty,

every eye

the truth,

every eye

mine alone.

You told me when we were younger that I should give rhyming verse a try and, well, Lemony, not everything you said was good advice.

-------

I do, though. I love you a great deal. I think it confuses people. Besides the fact that some of them never understood our relationship with Bertrand (cowards), I get the impression some of our associates don’t know why I love you. Which is just stupid of them, and I don’t owe them anything, none of them are going to read this. It’s not their business why I love you, it’s ours. And I love you because

How can you explain why you love someone? Someone can say ‘they make me laugh’ as much as they want and sure it’s true but is that really why? Can you ever really say why? Isn’t it enough to love somebody, with everything you have? To say, that’s the one I want, for the rest of my life? Who could I possibly need to defend myself to?

I love you because I love you, because I look at you and think I love you, because I inhale and exhale that I love you, because every part of me only feels right with you.

I love you because you embarrassed me but I thought you were kind. I love you because I didn’t ever have to explain anything. I love you because you always came back to me. I love you because you made me happy. I love you because you didn’t let anything stop you from loving me. I love you because you loved me. I love you because when you took my hand I thought I could do anything with that love.

I love you because you were mine. I love you because you looked at me. And I love you because it was more than that, it always was.

I love you because of the records you played. I love you because of the time we taught Bertrand to make root beer floats. I love you because you’d rehearse our lines with us even though you can’t act. I love you because of the way you would stand in the kitchen and wonder what you should make for dinner. I love you because you said you’d plant strawberry bushes in the backyard. I love you because you could never stand Geraldine Julienne. I love you because we would all sit around the table in my apartment and critique the newspaper articles together. I love you because you’d never take the train. I love you because Bertrand and I found every shortcut in the city for you. I love you because you and Bertrand would knit me the ugliest sweaters on purpose. I love you because you would take care of the bats for me and you were terrible at it.

I love you because you were wonderful where it counted. I love you because we’d stay up late and watch movies. I love you because you would hold Bertrand like it was the most important thing in the world. I love you because you would furrow your brow when you read something you didn’t like. I love you because you’d take me to the beach when it was cold. I love you because we went on picnics in the summer. I love you because when I walked into our apartment and then when I walked into our house it always felt like home. I love you because we made up that cat. I love you because you’d sing with me. I love you because Bertrand would take us bird-watching and name the birds with us. I love you because you bought me flowers.

I love you because you told me what happened. I love you because we went back there with you. I love you because I went into the lighthouse. I love you because I wasn’t going to not go. I love you because no one else would’ve gone. I love you because we let you walk out the door there and I knew you would come back.

I love you because we used to make out in the back of the movie theater and we’d take turns with Bertrand and then try to piece together what even happened in the movie when we got home. I love you because you used to sit in dark rooms with me and pretend we were ghosts and scare the other volunteers. I love you because we could just read for hours and not say a word. I love you because you let me cry in the bathroom. I love you because you would make up songs on the accordion when I was upset. I love you because I would whistle along when you did songs I knew. I love you because you would go out of your way to buy crackers. I love you because you would say things like “when we first met, you were pretty, and I was lonely” and you let me laugh. I love you because you would write me notes during class. I love you because you looked the same way I did the first time we saw Bertrand—shocked, and then a little impressed, and then irritated, because who did he think he was? I love you because who did any of us think we were, really. I love you because we grew to not care. I love you because we became people I was proud of.

I love you because you would feed that cat in the back alley on your way home and I would watch you from the window. I love you because that cat followed us to our house and then we had a real live legitimate cat until someone across the street put out better cat food. I love you because of the way you would read out loud, because you couldn’t act but when you read it was like seeing the sunrise for the first time. I love you because the one thing you did that was better than Bertrand was make tea. I love you because you taught me all your cookie recipes. I love you because we got you to sleep in the middle so we could protect you. I love you because they couldn’t take that away from me.

I love you because I’m here in an otherwise empty house, some boxes still unpacked, letting the dust settle, pouring my heart out when I don’t want to, because I do love you with everything I have, every part of me, every bone and every sigh and every drop of blood, and that’s the end of that. That’s all there is, I love you. That’s what it comes down to, I love you. That’s the only thing I want to say, I love you.

I do, I do love you. Lemony, please believe me.

-------

I know Bertrand has his own thoughts, his own opinions. He doesn’t want to admit that he does, but he gets this, look, on his face. Like he doesn’t know what to do with himself, he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, like he’s lost something special but it was there a moment ago, wasn’t it. He thinks I haven’t noticed. After all this time, he thinks he’s not supposed to be here, and you it hurts, is all.

And as much as Bertrand is a part of us, indelibly, forever, just as you are, both of you so a part of me that I ache with it, this letter is between you and me. Not because it was the two of us first. But because you know, for as much as I don’t want to, I’ll say the things Bertrand won’t.

That’s how this has to be.

-------

So.

Olaf’s started talking to me again, which I didn’t think would happen in a million years. Although maybe I shouldn’t call it talking? More like, he sort of shows up if he knows I’m at headquarters (which is far and few between anyway so, really, what the hell?) and lounges in doorways with these big smiles and says these dramatic things at me instead of to me, which he can’t possibly expect me to believe. How stupid does he think I am? Because I’m not. He keeps going, hey Beatrice, have you read the Daily Punctilio? And I don’t say anything to him, even though yes, I’ve read the Daily Punctilio, dammit.

You and I both know what’s in the Daily Punctilio, and for a while I thought, maybe you were writing those articles yourself, part of another fragmentary plot, and that you’d tell me about it later, and you’d explain it to me, even though I wouldn’t need it to be explained, not really. But you didn’t. Not that you didn’t explain, you just, you just didn’t tell me anything. And you were gone and I couldn’t even see you anyway and that was what really made it hard? It wasn’t like I doubted you. I didn’t. I didn’t doubt you. I knew you wouldn’t do any of those things.

But everyone looked at me and they looked so damn pitying, like, oh it happens to the best of us, only he’s not the best of us. Maybe you should’ve seen it coming, well you know what he’s like, as if nothing had ever happened? As if we hadn’t grown up together? As if we wouldn’t have followed you to the ends of the earth because we believed in you? It’s not everyone, but it’s enough. Like some of them don’t owe you their lives.

Bertrand says that people deal with things in different ways, and saying those things about you is probably just another way they’re dealing with everything. Don’t you think it’s harder, it’s gotten harder, as we’ve gotten older? But they don’t have to throw you under the bus to do it. They don’t have to vilify you to make themselves feel better. They don’t have to look me in the eye like that, like I’m some, some poor miserable thing, or like I have to be protected, or like I don’t know what I’m doing, or like they can’t even trust me.

But what does that make me?

And Olaf would grin at me and I would hold my head high and look him back and spit in his face. I wasn’t going to let it get to me. It had only been a month. How long is a month, in the grand scheme of things? What does a month matter, against the beginning of a lifetime? And when a month became two, what did that matter?

-------

I wouldn’t say that Hector and I were ever particularly close, but I’ve actually seen a lot of him lately. We meet up for tea because he keeps saying there’s something he wants to talk to me about but mostly he sits there and looks at his tea and I pretend I’m not super uncomfortable. And then he insists on paying the check, in exact change.

When I see Hector, I think about Haruki. I know how close they were. And Haruki respected you so much, more than anyone else. As in, he respected you more than he respected any of our other friends, but also more than maybe anyone else respected you, because that was how Haruki was. Loyal, the best of the best, and so fierce about it. I wanted him there at our wedding.

Haruki was really the first person we lost, I guess. And I hate how we’re never going to know how it happened, because they say no one else was there, and the one person we do know was there, he’s never going to say a damn thing about it, and we all know that for sure. But I remember everyone gathering around to write Haruki’s obituary and how little we had to say. Not because we didn’t know him. But because, what were we going to say? What did we have left to say, who did Haruki have left, besides us? And what were we?

Hector looks at me and I don’t know what to say to him. He doesn’t know what to say to me. I’m terrified he’s going to tell me I should’ve known better too because then I won’t be able to stand it. But he just looks at me and I try not to cry and I’m trying not to cry now because he’s feeling it too, this awful business of feeling like things are starting to break. Sometimes I feel Hector is going to disappear, too.

--------

I guess the question I started to think was, how long was I going to wait. Bertrand and I had waited for longer, and then there were times where we never waited, and hadn’t we reached a point where we weren’t supposed to, anymore? But then, when you’re married, aren’t you supposed to do whatever you have to?

But doesn’t it go both ways? One half can do their part but doesn’t the other half have to do something too and how much is it before you’re asking too much but how long is it before you’re not doing enough and when you’re married aren’t you supposed to know the answers to all the questions, the right and the wrong ones, you’re not supposed to care and you’re supposed to be there and it’s all is supposed to be okay, and

We never did do anything traditionally, though, did we?

-------

I saved the article. I didn’t save all of them, but I saved this one.

-------

UNIDENTIFIED BODY IDENTIFIED

The unidentified body recently pulled from the downtown river has been identified as local ex-theater critic and renowned person of interest, Lemony Snicket, who was last seen surveying the river and saying, “How deep do you think it really is?”

“For the record,” said the local police, who preferred to remain nameless and sent in their response by postcard from three towns over, “it was three feet.”

Mr. Snicket was identified by a source who was also unidentified, but proved their credentials by singing a variety of showtunes for the newspaper staff, to great applause.

“Yes, I suppose that’s him,” said the source, when asked to identify the photo of the river, which was presented to them while they were drinking a glass of water, because they were parched after the showtunes. When the glass of water spilled on the photograph, the source went on to say, “Oh, that’s definitely him.”

The body in question disappeared as soon as it was found, but the police have no reason to suspect foul play, as no livestock was found at the scene, the morgue, or the local bakery, and neither does our source.

“Can I leave now?” asked the source. “I need to go pick up my glasses.”

Mr. Snicket has recently been the suspect in a number of crimes, including arson, lockpicking, theft, and jaywalking without a license. He has been described as “that’s not what I would call a grey suit, it leaned closer to charcoal.” There is no planned funeral service at this time.

-------

Bertrand and I laughed a lot, because it was the most outrageous article we’d ever read, and we kept talking about what sort of bakery would even allow livestock inside, and of course we knew it was about you, but of course it wasn’t you, because we didn’t know where you were but we knew you were alive. You were alive, so no matter what we read or what anyone told us, no matter who wanted to believe what, we knew the truth.

And, again, Lemony, it wasn’t that I needed you to explain. It was that I wanted you to tell me. I wanted you to let me in on it. I wanted you to call or come by and tell us, your husband and your wife, hey no big deal but I’m gonna fake my death for the foreseeable future, is that okay? And instead I have to find out from Olaf waving it in my face? I have to find out from some absurd article I shouldn’t have even looked twice at? I have to find out from people I thought were my friends telling me I should have known better?

I sure don’t need to tell you, but, we just got married, Lemony! And we had a house and a life and plans and no matter what happened, no matter what else we had to do, because there was no way we were ever going to give this up and we knew that, we were going to stay together, we were going to do this, what we promised, not to other people but to ourselves, and each other, and

Sometimes I want to think that you planned it like that, that you sat down and thought to yourself about the best worst way to do it and you thought, leaving us alone like this and faking your death and not saying a single word was the greatest way to break our hearts, especially after marrying us, that would hurt the most, you wanted to do it so you did it and you got away from us for good like you always wanted because you were never going to stay and you knew it, because then I can hate you like I’m supposed to and stop thinking of the way you smile at me

I hate that you aren’t a cruel person, I hate that you didn’t do it on purpose, I hate that the real true human tradition is that people are human and nothing else

How am I supposed to do this?

a bird up in her chamber

eats love for breakfast lunch and dinner

and steadily gets thinner

sings songs she won’t forget,

in the darkness by the lamps

says the shapes of lonely words

said by lonely people

in lonely rooms

to feel better about

being

what is a life with this alone

what is a life

like this?

“when we grab you by the ankle, where your life is ours to take

you’ll soon be doing wicked things, they’ll keep you long awake

when your whole life is a secret then you’ll be a volunteer

and you’ll scream a long time later, for

the world was never quiet here.”

-------

Bertrand has been making lists. You know his tendency to organize, but the funny thing is he just keeps leaving them places. I’m sitting on like, three of them.

To Do

-Check maps

-Apologize to D

-Extra key

-Secure boat

-Study family trees

To Buy

-Thick, sturdy rope

-Do they make portable record players?

-Paintbrushes (for then and now, so get extra)

-White curtains? Will they match? Check ‘To Think’

-Extra wires, no candles!

To Think

-Ask Kit about Bernadette

-Examine garden for hiding spots

-Turtles or foxes?

-What if it turns out to be true?

-Or birds??

Definitely not birds.

-------

You know, I haven’t seen Jerome in a while. Maybe it’s also been two months, I’m not sure. I feel like, even before the wedding, we weren’t seeing much of him—although it wasn’t like Jacques paraded him around or anything in the first place—but since then, I don’t think Jacques has even talked about him.

This means Jacques’s Tuesdays are open now, although you’d never know it. He still only shows up when he wants to. And if he doesn’t want to, then you have as much luck finding him as finding a grammar rule Jo doesn’t know. It must run in the family. I hate to

I had Kit get ahold of him for me. Sometimes I feel like I don’t know what to say to Kit anymore, which is unsettling, but Kit acts like she always does. She comes over and makes herself at home and talks to both of us like this is average everyday Kit business for her. I don’t know if I admire her tenacity or if it’s going to be something else I can’t stand down the line. I don’t know yet. She hugged me when she left, though. That’s just how Kit is. And I don’t really want to lose that.

I wasn’t sure if Kit would know, the thing I wanted to ask Jacques. I guess it wouldn’t surprise me if she did, but when I saw her I thought, maybe she didn’t know. She didn’t talk about you at all. And it wasn’t the ‘I’m Kit Snicket and I’m Being Purposefully Vague For Reasons, Now Deal With It’ sort of silence, it was the ‘I’m Kit Snicket and I Refuse to Admit I Don’t Know This Piece of Information, So I’m Going to Rearrange Your Bookshelves’ sort of silence. Still don’t know where she put T.S. Eliot. I think she took it with her.

Jacques didn’t want to talk to me. He’s too polite to say it, but I could tell. He kept making excuses, and by the time we finally got him to come here, he was uncomfortable and I was on edge. He came right out and said he couldn’t stay long. He knew why I wanted to talk to him and he told me straightforward that he couldn’t tell me.

I’m not proud of what I said to him.

-------

If it was the last day, but it probably was but Lemony, I don’t I sure didn’t know.

I will remember every second until the day I die.

We waited until after the wedding to move into the house, especially because the only honeymoon we wanted was for the three of us to be there together, alone, for a little while. It was on the outskirts of the city, away from everything else, and we barely told anyone. We didn’t even tell everyone from the wedding.

I watched the sunrise, the soft shadows sliding along the sheets on the bed, catching on the suitcases we still hadn’t unpacked all the way, you and Bertrand warm beside me, and I didn’t want to get up. We put the best bed in the whole world in our room, and rightly so. High bed posts but no canopy because Bertrand was worried about dust. Crisp white sheets and I was so excited to look when we finally got up and see the wrinkles mashed down in them from where we slept because that meant it was ours for real. That rich wine comforter that it was too hot to use the first night so we still had it folded up at the foot of the bed, but you had this look in your eyes when we spread it out like you couldn’t wait for winter and when we’d be squished up against each other underneath it for warmth.

That morning, I just wanted to lay there and savor it. It wasn’t like we’d never been in the same bed before, or that we even needed to be married, but! To know I could hold it in my hands, that’s what it was.

And then Bertrand rolled over and got an elbow into my side somehow and you mumbled something about Wedding Pancakes (capitals implied) and then we had to eat breakfast.

I checked. The wrinkles were all there.

-------

Bertrand and I.

We haven’t

We’ve been

We’ve been angry at each other.

And you know Bertrand, he doesn’t get angry, really, he gets, more disappointed than anything, but he’s. He’s been angry. At me. I know.

I get scared, because I don’t know what to do, so I, I can’t hold a conversation without yelling at somebody, and it’s usually Bertrand, and I hate yelling at him and sometimes he starts to yell back.

We’re not. Okay. Right now.

We weren’t supposed to do this without you and I don’t want to find out that we can’t, Lemony. And I know we can but I know it’s also not a matter of doing it with or without you, because that’s awful, I just keep wondering what if you were what held us all together and if you’re not here how are Bertrand and I supposed to go on like this. Saying the wrong things, avoiding each other, not coming home. I guess that’s how we’re ‘dealing’ with it but that’s sure some sick way to do it.

I don’t want to lose anybody and fighting for them means that I want to keep screaming until everything stops.

-------

Jacques said you’d be back soon enough.

I told him I needed to know how soon was soon.

He said soon enough.

I said that wasn’t enough.

I never though of Jacques as one to yell. And he didn’t really yell, he mostly raised his voice, like I couldn’t hear him. I mean I was definitely talking over him but it was because I could hear him and I didn’t want to.

No one can tell me anything I don’t know. I know they think I haven’t felt the same worries as everyone else but that’s because I never wanted them to think that I did. And I did too good a job, apparently. I know we live hard lives, Jacques. I know it requires sacrifices, Jacques. I know there’s no guarantee, Jacques. I know there’s things you have to give up. I know you can’t be childish or selfish in this business. I know we knew what would happen. I know sometimes no matter how hard you try, you’re just going to fail.

He told me to wait for you.

-------

After breakfast, we organized the library, because we still had so many things in boxes but we agreed we had to get that done. We put everything in, every repeat copy and every notebook because we actually had room for everything instead of trying to cram it all into smaller bookshelves. The library was the biggest room in the house and had that beautiful windowseat. (It still does. We’re still in this house, after all, but this moment, this day, just isn’t right now.) I’ll admit I spent more time lounging on it than I did organizing books, but, you sat on that windowseat with me, you knew how comfortable it was. I loved those windows and how bright the sun was (really.) and how good I knew it was going to look when it was raining. And you agreed, and Bertrand rolled his eyes at us, and I told him, he got his natural light, what more did he want?

For two people to stop lazing around and figure out if we were going in alphabetical order or by genre or by which ones most recently made us cry over lunch, Bertrand said.

It was alphabetical, of course.

We forgot about lunch, because we put the record player in the library until we could find another place for it and started playing our favorites. Bertrand could dance by then, obviously, we wouldn’t have married him if he couldn’t. We were very good at dancing together, after practicing for so long. No one was ever going to do a better three-way tango and we all knew it.

We picked through the fridge and some of the wedding gifts, once we got hungry and tired of dancing. We found out Jerome somehow still sent us at least thirty coasters, and learned that he apparently wildly overestimates our social life, because there was no way we were going to be inviting thirty people at a time over anymore, or at least, not for a while. You and Bertrand stacked them in the dining room in a cabinet, and those you organized by color. Then we stood at the window there and looked out into the garden (the best view of it was from the dining room) and talked about the flowers we were going to plant, and how Ramona was going to send us (express) a clipping from one of the rosebushes in her garden, the ones we’d look at during her family’s masked balls.

We went to the corner store down the street and you and Bertrand pretended to fuss over tomatoes while I was looking at loaves of bread and when I turned around you were buying flowers for me, red and bright and beautiful. We put them in the kitchen while we all made dinner (salmon, with cherry tomatoes). Somehow I found the time to make sorbet for dessert and it was only then we realized how late it was and we laughed a lot that day and laughed a lot then because we didn’t need to care about things like that. Our house was barely put together and we tried to find a way to use every single coaster from Jerome and we hadn’t had words with the city about the electricity yet because there was so much we’d had to do beforehand that we had to use candles. We all had matches, and we weren’t naive enough to think we wouldn’t have them.

I can’t tell you how powerful I felt, lighting those candles, because I know you and Bertrand felt it too. This was our doing and ours alone. This space was ours. We looked at each other over the candles, the shadows on our faces, and we’d never looked clearer.

We could’ve lived forever, in that moment.

-------

I called your brother a coward and I told him that whatever happened to Jerome now that he wouldn’t protect him was his fault and his alone and if he could live with himself that’s fine but I couldn’t if I didn’t try to do this and if he didn’t tell me where you were I was going to kill him where he stood and he shouldn’t even think for one second that I wasn’t capable of doing what had to be done and if that meant I had to kill for what I wanted then I would.

-------

You kissed us in the morning. You smiled. You walked out the door and then came back because you forgot your hat and Bertrand and I were still laughing even as the door shut behind you.

And then you were gone.

-------

Kit came by again, after.

We sat in that silence.

She told me that it was the one thing they hadn’t told her. She hadn’t known, until I asked Jacques. We don’t have anywhere else to go, she said, in a moment of unprecedented candidness. So we always come back.

“I underestimated him,” she said.

I told her she could keep The Wasteland, since it was practically hers because it had been yours. Kit smiled. She didn’t say much else.

-------

Bertrand and I aren’t the only ones losing someone here and I forgot that.

Jacques and I looked at each other for a long time. I tried to apologize and he kept shaking his head. He told me where you were. He told me he didn’t know when you’d be back—or if you would at all. He told me he was the one writing the articles in the Daily Punctilio. He turned away from me. Then he gave me his handkerchief, and put his hand on mine, and got up and left.

-------

What it feels like, Lemony, is like you

It feels like you picked

It feels like we didn’t matter and

And it’s not like we could ever choose or have one or the other I know I know I know but

We’re never going to be without it but I thought that

WE GOT MARRIED, FOR FUCK’S SAKE, LEMONY SNICKET

You picked an idea of nobility that you spent the past ten years struggling with and denouncing and promising you’d never

It wasn’t like we ever set out to save you anyway I

At the end of the day, that’s it. You picked the organization over us. And I didn’t think we were going to have to draw lines like that. At least not now. At least not right now. Because that means I have to make a decision. Because it means I can’t only think about me. Because it means I can’t keep waiting. And even if I could, I wouldn’t want to.

-------

I found out the other day.

I had a feeling, though. You just, you either have the feeling or you don’t, right? And I did. And I keep thinking about what your reaction would be. What you’d say. I keep thinking about your eyes, bluer than blue. I keep thinking about the world we said we were going to make when we were kids, the people we said we’d be. We were tiny and young and idealistic and you’re really only that way once in your whole life and when you’re not anymore, you can’t go back.

-------

We can’t go on like this.

stripped off my dress like a skin,

peeled

so you could see everything

not only then,

but always.

didn’t know i was doing it,

guess i never really ran out of clothes.

you took off you shirt

and I was jealous.

you only needed to do it once and there you were.

I thought.

but now I keep finding shirts

in the places where I found you

and I can’t

find anything

that was mine

to put back on

I really can’t do anything

-------

Enclosed you’ll find the ring. I know it’s not just the ring I married you with, but the ring I married Bertrand with, but whenever we look at it we think of you and I’m the one who has to wear it all the time and I can’t.

But I don’t want to give it back because what if it’s the only thing I get to keep of you? But it wasn’t ever mine anyway, or yours, and who knows, maybe Ramona will marry Olivia with it someday, and maybe you’ll be there, only you wouldn’t be if you got the ring back, you’d never show your face again.

And that’s not what I want, I don’t want you out of my life, Lemony, but if I give it back then maybe I do. Maybe that is what I want. Maybe I never want to see you again like this.

-------

Okay, I have to ask. I have to, because Jacques kept his mouth shut about this.

The last time you saw us. Not the day, but the morning, walking out the front door. Did you know you weren’t coming back? You just left like you always did, to go to the newspaper, before Bertrand and I went to the theater, and as far as leaving someone for good goes that’s so

Did you meet up with Jacques, or Hector, or Jo, or even Kit, and did they tell you? Did headquarters address you personally? Did you take an assignment from someone else? Did someone corner you and were you trying to protect us? Was that the only way you could do it, going into hiding and faking your death? Who else was involved, besides Jacques? How long was it going to go on for? Did they expect you to do it by yourself? Did you have a plan, did any of them have a plan? What fragmentary plot was it even a part of? Did you know you weren’t coming back? Could you even come back? Did it even happen right away? Did it start out as some mediocre assignment you were going to tell us about later and then what happened so that I was reading the paper and there you were being accused of things I knew you’d never do? Why didn’t they ask me? Why didn’t they ask Bertrand? Why didn’t they ask us? You knew we’d do it together, we swore we’d do it together, why didn’t you tell us? What made it so that you couldn’t?

Or did you really decide for yourself that that was it?

I don’t want to believe that. I don’t, Lemony. I want to believe that it was one thing and then another but do you know why I can’t, why I keep asking? Do you understand why I need to know the truth? Why I need to be able to put it together? Why waiting and trusting isn’t enough anymore?

--------

No one could ever extinguish my love, Lemony, no one, nothing, not a single solitary thing ever, nothing could do it, but my trust is a different matter. Loving someone and trusting someone are two different things and I know you know that as much as I do. You. Knew. All. Of. This.

-------

You know. If it had ended at the article. I might’ve been okay with it. I might have. Not making any promises, because we both know better than that. But I might’ve. I could’ve.

It didn’t end with the article.

Olivia had a short-lived assignment working the telegrams recently. She gave Ramona a very specific telegram. Olivia was honestly surprised it had come through at all. That something like that would be sent over such an insecure line. And of course she showed Ramona. They didn’t show it to anyone else. Which was lucky, because you know Olivia. She wanted to do whatever she could.

Ramona sent it to me. Right away. I got it yesterday. She said she’d never felt worse in her entire life. She said she was sorry. She’s the only one who didn’t sound patronizing about it.

J.S.,

AS WELL AS CAN BE EXPECTED STOP GOING ON FULL STOP

M.K.

I never liked Monty Kensicle all that much as a name either.

-------

Lemony I can’t help but think that you’re sick of me, sick with me

It wasn’t like I ever—like I did it to be similar, I would NEVER, because both of us had our reasons for why we did what we did, you on that train, me and Bertrand at the opera. We knew what we were doing. Did we regret it? Enough for it to hurt, on the wrong days. Not enough for it to matter, in the long run. But enough for it to stop me every once in a while, in the way I know it stopped you.

But, but did you think, you couldn’t love someone who

Which would be, extraordinarily hypocritical of you, not to mention

I know you still think about it and I know how much it

I paid my price for what I did, Lemony, and so did you, and I didn’t

Is that how it works? Is that what happens? Is this what else I have to give up, for some shred of nobility, is my life going to be one mistake after another because I followed an order and I though they were right enough? Not even right, right enough, how stupid—is everything that happens to me going to be because of that? Am I losing you because it’s what I deserve?

Don’t I deserve good things? Don’t I still deserve happiness, and stability, and love, and a family, and all those things I worked so hard for? Because nobility wasn’t the end of it for me, this was what we wanted, something better, something for us, something we deserved, and this can’t be it, this can’t be the only thing we get for all of that, there has to be something else! And if I lose everyone close to me because of this organization Lemony I swear I don’t know what I’m going to do I feel like I’m going to lose my mind like this

--------

I think of you out there, alone, and probably cold because you never bring a damn jacket with you anywhere. It’s summer but I’m imagining you as being cold, but I think that’s just because it’s sort of what you do when anyone thinks of someone as being anywhere alone.

Or, I’m just—I’m thinking of you out there, alone, for sure. I’m doing that. I’m thinking. About you. Alone.

I’m

thinking.

I think of you. Out there. Letting Jacques know, letting Olivia know, because you had to know who was working the telegram, otherwise you wouldn’t have sent it, I think of you going out of your way to tell your brother and not me and Bertrand and maybe you thought they’d tell me anyway but I had to pull teeth to get it from Jacques and if it had been anyone else! No one but Olivia would have said! You got lucky! But not enough! Because you still didn’t tell us! You went out of your way to not!! You! I think of you! Doing that instead of having the nerve! The decency! To tell us first! You!

How could you

-------

I think of you, out there—hiding in the middle of nowhere with only the occasional newspaper for company, which, let me tell you, Lemony, is a very frustrating existence. You know what? I keep wanting to hope that you are dead because somehow that would make this easier, I can be angry at a dead man. But I can be angry at anyone, can’t I. Dead or alive, it doesn’t matter. I can be angry.

I want to hope that you never sleep comfortably again. I want to hope that every sea is too uneven and every desert is too hot and every mountain is too cold and everywhere you go it’s too much. I want to hope that you try and come back and see how good and happy Bertrand and I are without you and you have to realize, you really did mess up. I want to hope that your boat goes down in the middle of the ocean and I know for sure! I want to think that you’ll be so miserable without us and it’ll never have been worth it!!

You’re out there, without us. Without me.

I hope it was worth it.

-------

What am I going to do?

I’m not picking. It’s not—I’m not capable of that, picking between you two, and I know you both had this ridiculous fear that I was going to, but I wasn’t, and I’m still not. I am selfish and clingy and I know what I want and I love what I have, and I love both of you and Bertrand loves both of us and I was ready to stake my life on the fact that you loved both of us too.

And I hate that I have to say it! Because I do! Apparently I do have to, Lemony! If it comes down to, who would I rather do this with, who would I raise a family with, who would I trust more than anything, and you made me make this choice, I’m sorry it can’t be the man who ran away from me! And part of me keeps thinking I’m not even me for saying that, I’m not, I’m not the Beatrice that was going to tear a room apart with her bare hands to get what she wanted, who would scale walls and climb buildings and shoot a gun and could ski and fence by fourteen, I’m not, taking risks, I’m not doing whatever I have to, and that everyone who told me Bertrand was boring (because there were people!!!) and safe and uncomplicated was right and that I’m betraying some fundamental aspect of myself by not even trying, and that I’m hurting Bertrand especially for making him a damn pawn in what I think my life is

But it’s not like I never did! It’s not like I didn’t spend years and years of my life trying to be a good person, trying to create the life I wanted, all of this is me, every ugly thought and every bad decision and every unfinished book and every theater script I keep leaving around places and every single page of this as I try to figure out where I want to go from here! And it just comes back to one thing, Lemony, just one thing! That we can’t do this! That I can’t have you in my life like this! That I didn’t believe it would happen but here it is, it’s happening!! I can’t avoid it! You walked away from me and expected me to be okay with it! You expected me to wait! You expected me to do it! You expected EVERYTHING from me and I only have so much to give, I’m only so much, I CAN’T DO EVERYTHING

And do you know what I am? Do you know what I am, really, when I get right down to it?? I am this, this awful woman with blood on my hands asking you for something that even I could never give anybody, not you or Bertrand or myself and I’m so sick of everything, I’m so sick of myself, I hate everyone and myself most of all, for being like this, for turning into this person, I hate hate hate hate hate all of this and how we were raised and what our future is going to be and what I’ve done and what is it going to take, for things to be better, for me to be better, for—what is it going to take, Lemony, for you to walk back through that door again and not do it over and over and over and I can’t keep letting you do this, I can’t, not to me or to Bertrand, I can’t keep hoping you’ll be there when I wake up and I can’t keep dreaming we’re going to die and I can’t keep pretending that anything about us has ever been okay or ever will be okay! Nothing about this is okay and how am I only realizing it now? How long have we been fooling ourselves into thinking that we could do this? How long do I have to be kind about this? How long do I have to play nice about you and this?

I’m UPSET and I’m ALLOWED TO BE and I

don’t

know

can

forgive

you

I don’t know if I want to. I don’t know if I can look at you anymore.

I don’t know.

Do you know how it was, Lemony? It was us first. You and me. From the second we saw each other in that green-walled room, it was you and me. Lemony and Beatrice. Root beer floats and being purposely mysterious to each other when we talked and being too clever. And I thought that meant we could do anything. We could die and I’d be happy because I was with you. As long as I had you.

And then there was Bertrand. And life felt different. Bertrand made it different, Bertrand made life different, he made it worth something else. And the bond that you and I had? Irreplaceable. And what we created with him only made it better. We had room in what we had for something so good. It really was Bertrand. I don’t know what would’ve become of us if it hadn’t been for him. And I saw that in you, too. You thought it too.

That was when I worried. When I started dreaming about terrible things happening to us. To you. I kept running from it because I didn’t know what else to do. I just didn’t want to lose you. I didn’t want to lose.

I’m scared to do anything. I’m scared to be wrong. I’m scared to know anything else.

I’m scared to die.

I don’t think you are.

I’m not sorry.

-------

Here are some questions. Here are some facts. Here are some things.

1 – I’m tired.

2 – I can’t even wonder if we should have done things differently anymore, right after that moment we met. In that room, I never imagined any of this.

3 – Sometimes I do think you lied all along. And that’s not a reflection on our associates or anything but just, see question/statement 1.

4 – You had to have thought about what would happen.

5 – How could we have a family like this?

6 – Did you think you could run all your life? Did you think that would work out? That Bertrand and I would be satisfied with that?

7 – Did you want me like that?

8 – What am I supposed to do?

9 – How long did you think we could keep this up?

10 – Was I wrong?

11 – What did you want?

12 – I know you’d thought about what a family with us would look like and I didn’t think you’d let anything stand in the way of that and maybe that was where I was naive.

13 – What would you say if I asked you this in person?

-------

After all this, I—

Bertrand has asked me if I have any spare pens.

-------

Lemony—

A long time ago, I sat in the diner near your apartment. We’d all known each other for a while, and you and Bea were very much together, and I didn’t quite feel like a third wheel anymore but I also didn’t feel like I was a part of everything yet. We were still dancing around each other, and I was doing it truly, incredibly badly.

I was in the habit of meeting Jo on weekends, when we would go over our reports together because we worked in similar places. We’d meet in the diner. I would arrive early and take a seat near the door. It had the best view of your window. You never turned the lights on, but I would look at it and think about you and—I’m completely serious—write the worst poetry ever to exist. You and Bea have always been much better at it. Jo would take it upon herself to help and suddenly they were these grammar-specific poems, which meant I definitely was not going to send them. Jo is many things; Jo is just not particularly a writer of romance.

I never told you or Bea, because it didn’t seem noteworthy, once we were together. But, things happen in your life and you wish you’d been able to say so much more than you did. I wanted to tell you about the face Bea makes when you aren’t there. She bites her lip and frowns around the kitchen when there’s a lull in the conversation in the spots you would usually say something clever. I wanted to tell you how the bed doesn’t feel the same when you aren’t in it. Bea says the wrinkles don’t set the same, and I feel like it’s emptier without you. I wanted to tell you that the hottest summer days—and I feel like there have been an endless amount of them so far this summer, humid and muggy and not the least bit sultry—even they feel cold when we can’t see you. I wanted to tell you that every time I do the laundry, I remember how you can’t fold socks. I wanted to tell you that I’ve stopped folding socks altogether, which has become quite the problem. Bea and I have stacks of socks in the bedroom now, which is just silly. I wanted to tell you that I love watching you put your hat by the door when you come home, resting it on the table as gently as possible, giving such a small gesture has such a big importance.

I took those things for granted. So much of my life, I’ve thought that loving things so fiercely and so determinedly could be enough, and I’ve relied on that love to get me through what we had to do. Even when the three of us weren’t together, I think I would’ve been happy to stay that way, because I could still love both of you regardless, and just that would’ve been enough. Just to be able to love you, and have your companionship. I would have cherished that always.

I’m the one who’s been so lucky, Lemony. When we all got together, I felt like my life began. I felt like you and Bea pulled me along into something beautiful and breathtaking and nothing would ever compare. I felt like it would always be there, for the rest of my life.

And I’m—

I don’t hate you. I could never. You need to know, that no matter what happens, I will never hate you. I can’t promise to not be upset with you, because I am, and a little angry, and a little disappointed, and a lot sad. But I don’t hate you.

You and Bea have such beautiful ways to say things, and I’ve always been so jealous of the way you two write. You told me that both of you were jealous of my tendency to be a little more forthright, at least when I got down to it, because let’s not forget, I did spend two months coming up with nicknames for all of us instead of just telling you how much you meant to me. But I don’t have lengthy or passionate ways to say certain things, is what it is. Actions, definitely. But when I have to say it, it comes out.

I love you.

And I wish you were here.

I never wanted to think about it, I guess. I’ve done a very good job of not thinking of things I didn’t want to think about. We do difficult things and live difficult lives. It takes its toll, and I’ve watched it happen. I thought if I held on tight enough—to you, to Bea, to myself—that we could escape some of it, no matter what we’ve done. And we’ve done a lot. We’ve been kept up in turn by sleepless nights and bad dreams and wondering too much. We’re not going to leave—not for good, and each of us know that—but it could be more manageable, together. We would figure it out, when we needed to. Perhaps I was a bit too optimistic about how well I could do it.

I hate to think it was something we did, or something we didn’t see. I hate to think that you gave up on yourself or on us. I hate to think I didn’t do enough. I know it’s not necessarily anyone’s fault. I know Bea keeps telling me I’m too kind for my own good, and I think it’s because I’m afraid to really feel anything. Feeling it makes it too real, something I have to actually contend with, and I don’t want to. I really don’t.

I want to say—I don’t want to tell you, I just want to say it—that I’m more hurt than I’ve ever been, and I don’t feel like I belong here without you, and that I think, you didn’t want to do it, but you knew what you were doing, and you did it because some things just sound easier, or hurt more but hurt less than others, and that I despise the people that we’ve become. I despise the things that we’ve been made into, and I don’t know how much of it we did to ourselves. I don’t know how much I can change.

I won’t lie, Lemony, because I’ve never been much of a liar. It’s been hard without you. Bea and I haven’t been talking very much, and we get into arguments when we do. We’ve been avoiding each other. It’s hard to avoid someone you live with, for a lot of reasons. But we’ve been managing to do it. I’ve been hiding at the Denouement. Absolutely, definitely hiding. Dewey’s not pleased but he doesn’t say no to the help organizing the archives. Bea’s been going to the theater, even though she’s technically off-duty for the next seven months (it was self-imposed off-duty, which I’ll admit was surprising). When we do talk to each other, Bea has a tendency to raise her voice, which I don’t mind, necessarily, because I understand why she keeps doing it. I have a tendency of late to do the same, which I’m not proud of. Taking it out on each other isn’t good or responsible of us, but it’s where we are right now. It is a miserable place to be.

Bea assumes I’m upset with her, but I’m not. I’m upset with myself, mostly. I keep thinking that none of this would have happened if I wasn’t here, that I made things worse. If you and Bea had just gone on by yourselves, maybe there would be so much less unhappiness. Maybe I was what made it hard for you to stay. Maybe I pressured you, maybe I pressured myself. Maybe this is my lot in life. They’re awful things to think, but I’m thinking them. That’s what people do, when upsetting things happen. We try to figure out where we went wrong. We don’t come up with any answers, but it’s better than sitting around feeling sorry for ourselves, which we do enough of too. I know eventually we’ll stop hurting each other, Bea and I. It just feels a long way away right now. A lot of things feel that way. You, myself, my friends, anything I thought I knew or had.

I’m being very unkind, to myself. That’s not your fault. It’s just something I’m realizing now. I’ve spent a lot of my life being unkind to myself. I don’t know how not to be. There are many things I don’t believe that I deserve, a sentiment I know you understand. It’s hard to feel like we deserve anything, even what we love. The more I think about it, the more I think, maybe that was why. And that breaks my heart and scares me so much, Lemony, that we—you—are capable of feeling such sadness.

Honestly, part of me wants to keep waiting. The part of me that is a fairly patient person is probably willing to do so. But the other part of me that is less patient and a husband to both of you is the part that hurts, and the part that reminds me that I am allowed to say that there is only so much I can take. I want you here more than anything, but I know for sure none of this is ever going to be that simple again.

But going forward from this, I want to feel like I deserve things. There’s only so much time I can spend regretting, or hating myself, or wishing that I had done something different. It’s easy to get caught up in all of that, and I think I still will be, for a while. I think I’m going to keep thinking miserable things for some time to come. But on the other side of that is something else. Not necessarily a happiness, or a satisfaction, but a certain kind of existence. Or, I guess, a kindness.

I love you very much, Lemony, and I can’t imagine doing this without you. I still don’t want to.

But if you have to—Bea and I aren’t going anywhere. We’ll still be here. I can’t promise in what way, but we’ll be here, if or when or anything at all. I hope you can meet us in that something else one day.

Until then, with all my love,

I wish you bluebirds in the spring,

to give your heart a song to sing,

and then a kiss, but more than this,

I wish you love.

And in July, a lemonade

to cool you in some leafy glade,

I wish you health,

and more than wealth,

I wish you love.

My breaking heart and I agree

that you and I could never be,

so with my best,

my very best,

I set you free.

I wish you shelter from the storm,

a cozy fire to keep you warm,

but most of all,

when snowflakes fall,

I wish you love.

Bertrand

face the sun

in the night,

find it in the night

in the pieces,

dig for it,

dig it out with my hands alone.

yes.

what I left –

fragments,

every last eye,

unwelcome.

piling it back in.

new sunlight.

-------

So—the sad truth is that the truth is sad. The real truth is that I never wanted to believe you were right about that. I thought I could get by on good looks and sheer force and well-hidden optimism and believing I was right. I was wrong. We were all wrong, some of us more wrong than others.

Where you went wrong is thinking that we—that I—would be okay with this. And that was where I went wrong too, I admit. The blame could be with all of us.

What I do know is that we can’t be together like this. Not like this. This is where it ends.

I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that. I don’t know what Bertrand and I will do. And the two of us—Bertrand and I—can figure that out. In whatever way that is. Whatever you’re doing, I leave you to it.

You will—always, always, always—be (somewhere) in my mind, and (deep) in my heart, and wherever (wherever.) (parenthetical required.) you are. Be it a boat, or a cave, or the city, or a grave, true or false. That’s the way you want it. That’s the way I will accept it. Good luck.

Beatrice

#asoue #a series of unfortunate events

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havethetimeofyourstyles · 5 years ago

Text

Love Me Please?

Thank you to @habiba012 for requesting this!

Please feel free to request anything if you have anything in mind!

Harry has always been a private person.

Ever since he was put into a band and was practically in the spotlight for so many years; having people make him out to be someone he’s not and having people use him for something that’s other than his love. People have cheated on him, used him, and willingly broke his heart.

So when another person yet again, breaks his heart, he’s disappointed, but not surprised. It’s kind of like he knew it was coming. He hurts a lot and he hurts deeply that no one can love him. Sure, he has thousands, if not, millions of fans who love him dearly, but they don’t know him personally.

There’s so many people who would voluntarily give him their love and heart, yet he still feels unloved.

He’s a private person, but he’s also a romantic.

Harry is a sucker for a good rom-com. He wants the giddiness and the everything leading up to a ‘happily ever after.’ He simply just wants to feel and be happy with someone he’s proud to say that he’s in love with. But he also knows not to get his hopes up as his hopes have been buried deep under after the few girls who buried it for him.

He just wants someone to love him.

Harry means well when he says he writes through personal experience. He’s always been the type of songwriter to write something honest, something people can relate to. Honesty is perhaps his favorite trait. In everything he does, says, and writes.

“I just left your bedroom, give me some morphine. Is there any more to do?” Harry wants his pain to be gone. He’d rather feel numb then in pain.

“Gotta get better, gotta get better. And maybe we’ll work it out.” He feels as if he’s not enough, that he needs to work on himself to make things right with someone.

“Maybe one day you’ll call me and tell me that you’re sorry too.” They hurt him. He apologized and they didn’t.

He needs honesty in songs to have me sign and feeling to them. Every little thing, he wants to be honest about, like a simple tattoo for a fan.

“Do you mind writing something I can get tattooed please?” The fan says with bright eyes.

“Sure, what do you want me to write?”

“Anything you want! At this point I would get anything tattooed.”

He thinks for a minute as he holds the paper and pen. He furrows his eyebrows and looks around for something he potentially could write.

“Ah.” He stars to write and the girl is so happy as she sees her idol write up her next tattoo. “Here ya go. Sorry if my handwriting is messy, but don’t feel like you have to get it if you want.” He hands the paper and pen back to her. She squeals and thanks him, giving him a big squeeze.

Harry proceeds to get ready for his show, thinking about the tattoo he’s written. It wasn’t that hard, wasn’t it? The thought brings tears to his eyes, but he quickly thinks about something else before he’s a sobbing mess.

“Love me, please?”

He’s not sure how what to believe yet or how he got lucky.

A few months after he’s written that tattoo for his fan, that’s all he thought about. With how emotional and raw it sounds, that’s constantly what’s been going through his mind (also because he thinks it’ll be a great song title). He just wants someone to love him. Love him for himself and what’s he’s like as a person. Not what he works as, how much money he makes, and all the other benefits of being a rockstar.

Then you came around.

After four months of “love me, please?” Anne introduced you to Harry. She met you at your restaurant, a week after opening as she complimented your delicious food and lovely scenery of a restaurant. You were so flattered and humble about that moment. Anne later took her friends, asking one of the waiters if they can bring you round to their table, which you gladly said yes to. You were surprised to see that it was the same lady from just a week before, but nonetheless, happy since she’s a very sweet and kind person. Few weeks later, she then took her daughter, which you also met. And lastly, she took her son.

Her son that you were so incredibly fond of.

He seemed very shy at first, congratulating you on the opening and the amazing food. You shyly thanked him and told them to enjoy the rest of their evening, to which you quickly walked back to the kitchen to contain your shaky hands and stuttering words.

That definitely was not the last time you were going to see him.

You bumped into him in a vintage shop as you were holding two hangers of band tees. You immediately saw him, wearing round sunglasses and a beanie with a grey “Treat People With Kindness” sweater and black athletic shorts. You don’t know any other person who can rock a basic outfit; assumingely just after working out too.

You don’t know if you should go up to him, seeming that he’s only met you once for a brief moment. But he recognizes you from across the shop, his eyes brighten, and he waves at you.

Then things really hit it off from there. After that reunion, he asked you out to get some coffee, which then led to exchanging numbers, to him asking you out on a date, to the second date, the first kiss, to more dates, and more dates, shyly asking you to be his girlfriend, first time together, arguments, laughter, tears, opening up, ‘I love you’s’, more kisses and more sex in between, more dates, everything you and him could ever think of.

And with just a little more than a year and a half later, asking you to officially move in with him.

In all honesty, you’ve already moved in half of your closet without both of you even knowing and you rarely leave his place, only leaving to get even more clothes, just to leave there. And Harry does not mind at all, he loves seeing the other half of his closet being occupied.

You both fall into a routine just after a month of you officially moving in. You finally know his whole place from ceiling to floor and you’re pretty satisfied about that.

He loves having you be there 24/7. He never really gets tired of it. He feels as if he can finally feel at piece with the whole idea of love, and he’s never been happier. He feels himself falling even more in love with you every single day. It scares him. It scares the shit out of him. It’s so different from the other people that he’s dated. It’s definitely not something he’s used to, even after a year of being together, he feels as if he doesn’t deserve your love.

The first time he feels himself falling deeper is when he wakes up to an empty bed to only find you plating breakfast.

Your a chef, a damn good one at that, so he loves seeing you in action. He loves when you fold your beautiful lips in when plating food, showing how concentrating you are.

He decides to make himself known when you place the two plates and mugs on the table. With the smell of fresh brewed coffee and fresh French toast it was hard to resist hiding out.

And when he takes a bite, he feels deep appreciation through her food.

The second time he feels himself falling deeper is when he sees you picking out his outfit for the day.

Harry is an early bird, but you’re an even earlier bird, always have been. So when you wake up an hour when Harry’s due to wake, you find yourself in the closet picking and creating new outfits for him. It’s something you love to do since he has such a variety of beautiful clothing. Some days he’ll wake up and find you in the closet, eyes brighten as you let out an ‘ooh’ when you come up with an idea for an outfit. It’s something he’s so fond about; when he sees your creative and fashionable side.

The third time he feels himself falling deeper is when he runs out of his favorite body scrub.

He makes a trip to the store, finding out that they ran of stock, which leads him to going to another two stores to which he’s let down and walks out empty handed.

And when you both are having a home cooked meal, taking about your days, he disappointingly points out that he went to three stores to only find out that none of them have his favorite body scrub, and then later finding out that they discontinued selling it in all three of them. You tell him that it’s okay and that he can always find something that smells similar to it, to which he agrees.

But it’s then, just two days after, when you get home you find Harry sitting on the couch, reading a book.

“Hi, love.” You say as you lock up behind you.

“Hi, baby. How are you?” He gets up and greets you with a kiss.

“I’m doing okay, exhausted. I’m gonna take a shower and then I’ll cook dinner.” You brush some of the hair that’s fallen on his face as he looks down at you.

“Don’t worry about dinner, I already made something.” You smile in appreciation.

“Aww, thank you. Really appreciate it, I can’t wait.”

“No need to thank me, baby. I don’t expect you to do all the work in this house. We’re equal doing work, okay? Simple cleaning, cooking, and laundry, I can easily do.”

“That means a lot, Harry. I’m gonna go shower and then we can have your delicious food.” You give him one more kiss and walk to the bedroom.

“Want me to join you?” He asks as he looks down at your hips as you walk away from him.

“If you do, we’re never going to eat and I’m starving! Just wait until I’m done.” You yell out from the bedroom. He laughs, sitting back down on the couch as he waits for you.

Once you’re done and feeling fresh, you go back downstairs and join him. You see the table already set, so you just sit down and enjoy the delicious food in front of you with your favorite person.

You both talk about your day, the book he’s reading, and the music you both listened to today. All in all, dinners always took about an hour and a half. Half an hour of eating and talking a bit, and the rest talking about everything and anything that comes to mind.

You get up from your seat and grab his plate and his. You lean down to kiss his forehead, “Thank you for dinner, love.”

“No problem, babe. I’m gonna go up and take a shower now.” You nod and give him a smile, and see him walk up the stairs.

Not even 10 minutes have passed into tidying up the kitchen when you hear footsteps slowly coming right back down. You smile to yourself and look up, finding Harry slowly walking down the stairs. You expected smiles and that devilishly, handsome smirk, but you’re surprised when you see tears streaming down his face. You drop the rag and rush over to him as he meet you at the bottom of the stairs and you wrap your arms around his waist

“Baby, what’s wrong?” He doesn’t reply, just cries softly. You gently rub his back, soothing him from his sobs.

“Harry, you’re scaring me. Tell me wrong, love.” He takes a few breaths, trying to calm himself down before he speaks.

“Y-you bought me my f-favorite scrub.” He says as he wipes his tears from eyes. You immediately felt a relief, knowing that nothing major happened. You softly smile and keep rubbing his back, knowing that it’s something he finds comfort in.

Harry feels safe in your arms and there’s nothing better than knowing that he does.

“Of course, I did, love.”

“B-but it’s sold out, everywhere.” You pause for a moment.

“I went across town to get it.” Harry looks at you with wide eyes. The tears that have seemed to calm down are coming back.

“What? Wait, what? Why?”

“Because you ran out.”

“B-but, I just—what?” He doesn’t know what to say. He’s absolutely shocked and can’t form a straight sentence.

“Harry, I wanted to get it for you. So I left work just a tad bit early to get your scrub for you. Why are you so shocked, baby?”

More and new tears are forming. “I-it’s just that... I’m still confused. You do so many nice things for me and I don’t know why. No one has ever been this kind to me and I don’t deserve the things-“

“Alright, I’m going to stop you right there, and I want you to look at me and listen to me.” You put your hands on the side of his face as you two meet eyes. “I never, never want you to say that you don’t deserve anything nice. Because you do. I’m gonna tell you now: I’m not one of your exes. I know you’ve had a hard time in your previous dating life and they somewhat brainwashed you into thinking you’re not good enough. But I’m now. I’m here. You deserve all the good life brings and if things get bad, I’m not backing down. I’m with you for you, end of.”

Harry nods as he looks down. “I’m sorry. I just got overwhelmed.”

“Hey, hey, hey, no apologizing. Nothing to be sorry for, right? I bought it for you and I do everything else because I just want to see you happy. It’s my favorite Harry. I hated seeing you disappointed that they didn’t have the scrub anywhere near us, so I just wanted to make you happy.” Harry smiles a little, giving your lips a kiss.

“You make me happy. So so so happy.” You smile at him, glad that he’s in a better mood.

“The feeling is mutual.”

He wraps his arms around you, burying his head in the crook of your neck, and inhaling your sweet scent.

You do the same, with your head on Harry’s shoulder, and rubbing up and down his back.

“I’m here for the long run, Harry.” He pulls away and looks at you with shock on his face. “I mean who else am I going to marry?”

“You want to marry me?”

“I want to do anything and everything with you.” You say as you caress his cheek.

Harry has fallen in deep. He’s fallen so far down from the top that he doesn’t know if someone will catch him. He dove straight in with fear just as high as the cliff he jumped off of and he’s afraid of what will come at the end.

But you came along and caught him from falling. You were there to keep him on his feet and you’ll gladly do it forever if you have to.

Harry didn’t fall because of all the nice things you do for him. He fell because of the positive intentions you have for him. People in his life have always had bad intentions and without a problem, take advantage of him. He fell because you loved him for him, and that’s all he wanted.

“Love me, forever, please?”

“Always, love, always.”

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #one direction #older writings

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ratedbangtann · 5 years ago

Photo

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 𝐓𝐨𝐩 | 𝙎𝙚𝙤𝙠𝙟𝙞𝙣 𝙭 𝙋𝙡𝙪𝙨-𝙎𝙞𝙯𝙚 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙹𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚊 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜, 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗'𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚞𝚌𝚔. 𝙷𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞...

Pairing: Seokjin/Plus Size Reader Word count: 5k Warnings: feeding kink, playful sex, dom/sub, body worship, pussy slapping, fingering, unprotected sex

a/n: another plus size fic for all y’all thiccccc queens. i hope you love it as much as i loved writing it. can’t you just see jin loving a chubby girl who loves food as much as he does? this is purely self-indulgent...

As if you weren't already rushing about and panicking enough, your hear your phone ding from beside the bathroom sink, a text message popping up.

Just got in a cab, see you in 15 xx

It was from Jin. And you were nowhere near ready.

In fact, you still had your leg propped up on the edge of the bath, desperately shaving every pesky little hair from every crack and crevice you possibly could. God, this would be so much easier if had less damn cracks and crevices in which to remove unwanted body hair from. This was possibly the only thing you hated about your damn curves; the upkeep.

"Shit, shit shit..." you muttered to yourself, carefully yet ferociously attacking yourself with your razor. As if by some miracle, you didn't catch your skin. Disaster averted.

You washed the remainder of shaving cream off your body and draped a towel around your shoulders. You didn't bother spending 10 minutes trying to tie it perfectly so that one, it stayed up and two, the inevitable gap in the fabric would cover up your modesty. Waste of time. You already had your outfit laid out; a nice red silk dress, a little higher than ankle length, that you felt hugged your curves perfectly and hid the 'problem areas' well. Not that you thought you had problem areas; you loved your damn body how it was. And why shouldn't you?

However, tonight was your first official date with Kim Seokjin; Korean super idol and self-proclaimed worldwide handsome. Quite how this came about, you're still not entirely sure. You knew him by name and face, working at his brother's side as head of marketing for their superior restaurant chain and of course, you had fallen under his ridiculously charming spell rather quickly - you were only human. But who asked who out still kind of remained a mystery...

You definitely remember him visiting the restaurant you held your office in a lot more after the first time he had met you. And you definitely remember you memorising his order to make sure it was already cooking when he was seated at his regular favourite table. And you remember casually joining him for food a few times, sort of like unofficial dates but...

When he had asked you if you wanted to try out a different kind of restaurant to "scope out the competition" - which actually was part of your job as head of marketing - you didn't quite catch on that he was asking you on a real, proper date. At least, not until this morning, when he had an obnoxiously large bouquet of assorted red flowers sent to your home address with a card that read,

Excited for this evening. Will you wear something red? KSJ xx

And so here you were, slithering your body into the red dress you had picked out. It was your favourite and clearly, the colour was Jin's. The rather suggestive slit in the side of the material showed just enough leg that you felt comfortable and hopefully put the idea of bare skin in Jin's mind.

Oh yes, tonight was about that. You were doing your utmost to bed Kim Seokjin. You had had enough of the flirting and the sideways glances. Enough of the brushing of hands and subtle little winks your way. You'd even almost kissed once, you're sure of it. Before Jin's brother knocked on your office door and interrupted a casual conversation laced with hidden meanings.

In your dress, you felt powerful. Really goddamn powerful, like no amount of music awards, album sales or video views was going to intimidate you tonight. That was, until you looked in the mirror.

The material didn't quite sit right around your tummy. It bunched where it shouldn't and highlighted the extra pounds you had.

Damnit, this is my only red dress, you thought to yourself.

And now, you faced a dilemma.

Wear the dress with the lingerie you had picked out, which was causing this bunching. This means that if the possibility of sex does arise, you will look more gorgeous out of the dress than in it.

or...

Wear your control top granny knickers that sucked you in just enough to stop the bunching of the material and look as slim and smooth as humanly possible, therefore enhancing the chances of said sex to begin with.

With minutes to spare, you didn't have time to pick out a new outfit, and it had to be red. It just had to. So, control top panties it was. If the sex happened, you'd just have to excuse yourself to "freshen up" before things got too hot and heavy. In fact, you hid the lingerie you had been wearing in the cupboard in your en suite.

With your heels on, your now smoothly flowing dress and your delicious curves protruding perfectly, you felt ready. Even your cleavage in the silk was looking particularly delectable. Just a few final touches to your hair in the mirror before the bell to your apartment rang out.

You picked up your purse and headed to the front door. When you opened it, there he stood, in all his handsome glory.

He was wearing a tux; crisp, black, simple and classic. His dark hair was styled off his forehead, just how you loved it and he was wearing the thin rimmed circular glasses that made him look smarter than any man you had dated before.

He didn't say anything at first, simply stared at you; your make up, your hair, that dress, your body... God, he loved it.

"You look... Wow. Suppose I won't be the best looking person in this restaurant tonight after all."

You giggled at that. Of course, he'd say that. How much cheesier could he be? How much more predictable? But you didn't care. It was one of the many reason you liked him so much.

"Maybe just the best looking male occupant of said restaurant?" You teased, soothing his bruised ego.

"I can live with that, for tonight," he held his arm out for you to thread yours around his elbow and escort you down to the waiting cab. As you closed your door and headed down the hallway to the elevator, Jin continued his teasing. "But this can't happen every night, okay? I'm willing to let you take the title tonight, but we gotta share in future. Deal?"

"I'll try my best," you smiled.

****

You meal was nice. No really, it was. The food was great, the atmosphere of the restaurant was great, but that's all it was; just nice. Because frankly, you couldn't concentrate on a damn thing with Kim Seokjin sat opposite you and quite clearly going out of his way to tease and flirt with you.

He sussed out very quickly that you had a thing for his lips, so plump and thick and you could only imagine what they would feel like against your skin. You couldn't stop staring and he noticed. Now that he knew this, or at least thought he did, he was playing up to it.

He'd bite down on it and hold eye contact with you while he did, or brush his fingers along them, or seductively take a mouthful of food from his chopsticks; how that is even possible you've no idea. Chopsticks make eating a little less elegant, and yet it absolutely didn't for him.

He played little games with you all evening, making little jokes, flirting away and the god damn lips thing.

So maybe, it was time to give him a taste of his own medicine.

Starting with the slit in your dress; you angled your body slightly, readjusting the way you were sat to show a little more of your upper thigh through that scrumptious slit in your dress. He noticed, and you noticed him noticing. His eyes were diverted to the bare skin you were showing off and his fumbled on the sentence he was halfway through.

You had to hold in a giggle, watching him unable to take his gaze away.

"Jin, may I ask you a... perhaps invasive question?" you cocked an eyebrow, waiting for his attention to draw back up to your eyes.

"Hmm? Oh, um... " he coughed - one of those cover-up coughs to disguise the fact he was openly staring at your bare thigh. "Sure, go ahead."

"Well, I'm clearly a woman with a few extra pounds, to be polite; inevitable really when you work in a restaurant chain and are surrounded by delicious and free food day in, day out. However, you still find me attractive?" His brows knit in confusion.

"Well, yes... Should I not?" Your heart leapt. Clearly, he wasn't as closed minded as the majority of Korean people about their standards of beauty. Beautiful face, beautiful mind... check and check.

"No, if you think I'm attractive then good; you have eyes," you mirrored his ego as best as you could. Yes you loved your figure but you were always still so... insecure underneath. He smirked at you though, buying your confidence and raised his glass to take a sip. "However, my question to you is," you leaned forward a little resting your chin on your hand supported by your elbow, your cleavage on display, "have you always had a thing for a fat girl?"

The liquid in his wine glass bubbled and splashed as he spluttered, choking in surprise. He tried to recover quickly, dabbing his mouth with his napkin. You giggled at the outburst and his attempt to keep calm, finding it oh so amusing.

"Apologies, I just, um... wasn't expecting-" You held a hand up to stop him.

"It's fine, I was just teasing," you picked your own napkin up, wiping away a droplet of wine from his glasses.

"I have though," he said, so casually as if he hadn't just almost drowned in his wine glass.

"Hmm?"

"Had a thing for fat girls, as you so affectionately put it," he smirked, biting his damn lip again.

"What, is fat a bad word?"

"Oh, no, I was just..." he panicked again. You laughed.

"Jin, shut up. 'Fat' isn't negative to me. It's what I am, not who I am. If you like your women to have that extra chub, then... lucky me," you raise your own wine glass to your lips, taking a sip with a little wink in his direction.

Jin felt a stirring in his trousers at the way you owned that word, the way you teased him, the way your red painted lips sipped at your wine. He'd been having trouble keeping his hands to himself all night, but ever the gentleman he kept it to a little light flirting. But there was never anything light about his flirting.

"Your confidence; it's extremely sexy, y/n." He leaned forward on his elbows.

"Don't mistake my acceptance of myself as confidence. I, too, still get discouraged day to day," you said, thinking back to earlier and seeing the way the dress hung on you to begin with.

"Don't we all?" he asked.

"Madam, sir... your desserts," you server appeared out of nowhere, a tray with your final courses balanced perfectly in his hand. "Classic tiramisu for the lady," he placed the dessert in front of you, "and green tea layer cake for the gentleman. Enjoy," he bowed as he placed Jin's dessert in front of him, scurrying away to leave the two of you by candlelight once again.

The two of you wasted no time in digging in, and with the first mouthful you fell into what can only be described as heaven. As the food melted on your tongue, you couldn't help but let out a small moan of approval.

Jin froze, watching you... Your moan caught his attention, the stirring in his trousers starting to bother him immensely. He loved food, but watching someone else love food... Someone like you; he couldn't control his urges much longer.

He started to tap his foot in annoyance, his knee bouncing. He became fidgety, wolfing down his cake quickly in an attempt to speed up the last few moments of the evening. He wanted nothing more than to take you home.

And you noticed all of it. So naturally, you played up to it.

"Oh god, it's so good..." you huffed, mouth half full. You scooped up another mouthful, holding it towards Jin, "Do you want to try?" you asked, innocently.

"No, thank you." His jaw clenched back into place. You were loving this.

You took the bite for him, letting out another approval moan and watching from under your lashes as his gaze lay intently on you and he adjusted the tightness of his tie to give himself more room to breathe.

As you neared the end of your dessert, Jin flagged down the server and impatiently asks for the bill. The server nods, scuttling away to bring over the leather wallet. Jin is already prepared with his card in his hand.

By the time you've finished up, dinner is paid for. You server clears the table and Jin, still remaining chivalrous, takes your hand to help you stand, places your purse over your shoulder and proceeds out of the restaurant with you in tow.

He hails for a cab, opening the door and letting you climb in first. The ride home, you chatter mindlessly with him, and although he seems interested his mind is wandering. His thigh is so close to yours, your interlocked hands sat just above the slit in your dress, so close to bare skin... He wants to touch, wants to feel how beautiful you are, not just see it.

The cab pulled up outside your apartment, and Jin paid the driver. You tried to pay, at least for something this evening but he wouldn't allow it.

The walk up to your apartment was quiet, your fingers still locked together affectionately, until you had to find your keys and unlock your door.

You turned around to face him, standing in the doorway. Jin made no effort to step inside or invite himself in; but you were about to do that for him.

"Thank you for a lovely meal, Seokjin," you smiled, leaning against the doorframe and looking up at him with a smile.

"My pleasure, y/n. Somewhere different to eat than the place you work, for a change," he smiled back, plunging his hands into the pockets of his slacks.

"It was a lovely place. Maybe we should do it again some time?"

"I'd like that, a lot."

A silence fell on you both as you watching him rock on the balls of his feet uncomfortably.

"Well, I'd better um... get going then," he leaned forward, planting a small and affectionate kiss on your cheek, but lingering as he pulled back.

His eyes darted down to your lips, contemplating. He wanted to, so bad. Did you want him to? Should he ask? Your eyes met, the tension between you feeling like static electricity.

Kiss me, Jin. Just kiss me. Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me! You hoped that perhaps he would be telepathic and hear you yelling at him with your mind. Perhaps he was...

His lips leaned in, the same lips you had been watching so closely all evening, and pressed to lightly on yours, testing the waters.

Almost immediately, you apply a little pressure to mould your lips together. You feel one of his hands tangle in your hair as you stand up straight, coming away from leaning against the doorframe. You place a hand on his chest, as he deepens the kiss with his free hand on your waist. The space between you is now minimal, Jin's broad shoulders and height almost engulfing you.

"Maybe you'd like to stay..." you said as you pulled away, looking up into his eyes. "For one last drink?" Jin only nodded, crushing his lips on yours and pushing you back into your apartment. He shut the door behind him, before resuming another very heated kiss.

"I-I don't have any wine in," you say, breathing heaving between kisses.

"I'm not thirsty," he confesses, continuing to back you into your apartment towards the door he assumed was your bedroom.

Along the way you shed him of his tuxedo jacket, the heavy material landing with a thud along the floor somewhere. You were working on his bow tie when the backs of your legs hit the bed. With the tie discarded you made light work of his shirt buttons, untucking it from his slacks but as you tried to pull it off him, he pushed your shoulders down. Your balance faltered and you hit the bed, Jin immediately between your legs and hovering above you, his bare chest inches away and his lips on your neck.

You had always loved neck kisses, the tickle of them so playful until he reached that weak spot where your neck met your shoulder. You let out a shaky breath, a small moan following much like the ones you made to tease him earlier.

His hand found its way to your thigh, slipping between the slit of your dress that he'd been eyeing up most of the evening. Finally, he could touch the skin, caress, stroke you and feel you. He slid his hand further up your thigh, wanting nothing more than to strip your clothing and get as close to you as humanly possible.

His fingertips grazed over the material of your underwear, the lycra of them somewhat unexpected to Jin.

"Hang on..." he says, a playful and yet confused tone to his voice. Realisation dawned on you as he rose to his knees attempting to lift the skit of your dress past your hips for a better look at what he had felt. You try to stop him, to push your dress back down but it's too late; it's around your hips.

You cheeks flush and you cover your face with your hands.

"What on earth are these?" he laughs, running his finger along the seem.

"No, I forgot I was- fuck! I was gonna change!"

"No, no, don't. I like them," he teases, pinging the waistband of your ridiculously huge control top panties against your stomach. You giggle, hiding your face out of embarrassment. "So sexy, y/n," he leans forward and kisses you again, grinding his hips against the lycra. The feeling sends a bolt of electricity through your spine, a gush of arousal forming at your core. "I'm sorry, but I have to have another look," he jokes, shuffling down again.

"No, stop!" you laugh, trying to pull him back up to you.

"No need to be embarrassed, darling. I'm wearing something quite similar myself." You laugh at his obvious lie. "Here look, I'll show you," he stands off the edge of the bed, kicking his shoes off and unzipping his slacks, pushing them down to reveal... completely normal boxer shorts.

"Liar!" you accuse, still giggling.

"Well, I suppose, but it got my trousers off..." he grins, diving towards you again and planting his lips along the cleavage above the bust of your dress. "So tell me..." he plants more kisses, "why were you wearing such enormous panties?"

"They're control top panties, Jin..." He plants more kisses across your chest. "My dress bunched around my tummy, so I wore them to flatten it down."

"Control top, eh?" he hovers over your face, smirking down at your through his glasses. "I consider myself to be quite the control top myself," his eyebrow lifts as his tone turns low and laced with filthy double entendre.

You have no time to respond to him, as he sits up to pull the enormous panties off you, sliding them down your legs followed by a trail of peppered kisses all the way down to your ankle, before he throws the panties across the room. His hands roam up your thighs, caressing the flesh and sliding up under your skirt to your hips, grabbing hold of your curves.

One hand moved down, towards where you needed him most. He traced a finger through your folds, feeling the wetness that had gathered at the excitement of previous actions. With his finger coated in your arousal, he brings it up to your lips and presses past them, making you taste yourself on his finger.

"So pretty," he almost whispers, before he's popping that finger out of your mouth and diving it back through your folds, circling over your swollen clit. Your chest heaves with the deep breaths you take to keep yourself calm, a groan slipping past your lips that Jin can't help but let get to him. His cock is practically twitching in his boxers, begging for contact but like he had said before; he was a control top, a dom. He wanted to get you worked up before he let his own desires take over.

"How does it feel, y/n? Hmm?" he asks, his lips hovering over yours as his finger work magic on your clit, swirling around and around... You don't answer, simply moan out another guttural moan that rocks through him.

Suddenly he lands his palm against your mound, slapping harshly. You cry out, the pain a sharp contrast to the bliss you were feeling before.

"How does it feel, y/n?" he asks again, resuming his earlier motions.

"S-so good.. It feels so good," you stutter.

"Good girl," he praises. He dips his finger further into your folds, toying with your entrance and slipping one finger down to the knuckle, before pulling out and assaulting your clit again. "What do you want, y/n? Tell me."

"Y-your fingers, Jin... Please, I-I need them inside," you squirm, breathes so shallow. He obliges, dipping two fingers into your pussy this time and curling them, hitting the spot inside that you needed the most. You cry out, the feeling too much.

"Would you like me to make you cum, y/n?" he asks, his fingers working miracles inside you. You fail to answer him again, moaning unintelligibly. This time his free hand slaps harshly at your thigh, making the chub jiggle and ripple and leaving a red hand print.

"Yes!" you yelped immediately, lovely the pain but wanting so badly to please, "Please, please... make me cum!"

"There, not so hard, is it?" he smirks, the pace of his fingers quickening. You feel a familiar heat building in your stomach, crawling up your body and flushing on your cheeks. You're moaning, but it's not enough for Jin. He wants you screaming, writhing under his touch.

Without taking his fingers out of you, he dips his head down, using his tongue to lap at the bundle of nerves he had slapped moments ago. The extra sensation coupled with the fingers he was abusing your cunt with felt incredible. Your body twisted against the mattress, Jin trying his best to keep you grounded with his spare hand.

"J-Jin... fuck, it feels good. Oh my GOD, it feel so, so good," you can't stop babbling, moans and groans erupting from deep within you. Whatever Jin was doing to you, it was nothing like any of the men you had slept with before. Nothing.

He uses his whole mouth on you, those plump lips, his tongue... And his fingers; he's been keeping up the pace, fiercely tapping and pumping against your walls.

You can feel it, the urge to tip over the edge, to let yourself be taken over with pleasure getting closer and closer, the tightness in your abdomen becoming excruciating. You're trying to hold off, for what you don't know, but it's getting increasingly difficult, until...

"What? What the hell?" Your head snaps up to see Jin grinning, licking the mess of you from his fingers and grinning as he does so. You were so close...

"Something the matter, sweetheart?"

"Why did you stop?" you ask, breathless. He smirks, leaning over you again to hover his lips above your own.

"Control..." he teased.

He stood up, removing his boxers, socks and the open shirt he had yet to take off, revealing himself in all his glory. Annoyingly, he had the chiseled body of a greek marble statue. One of those little self-conscious moments revealed itself to you as you looked at him; toned chest, taught abs, thick thighs and... well, an impressively large package.

Fuck it, you told yourself. He likes you. He likes your body. Let him see it. Let him fuck it.

You rolled the dress up past your hips where the skirt had bunched, lifting it over your breasts and head to throw it to one side. Just the strapless bra left, you unclasped it and threw that somewhere too, not caring where it landed.

"Wow..." he muses, licking his lips as his eyes scan over you; every curve, every roll, every bump... "Incredible."

"Then why are you still just staring?" you tease. You spread your legs for him, giving him the perfect view of what he wanted to take so badly. "Come and get me."

He wastes no more time, crawling over you and smashing his lips to yours. His teeth graze your lips, biting down on the bottom to force them open enough to push his tongue in. You can feel him, his cock brushing up against your glistening slit, your pussy aching at the denial of your orgasm.

"Ask me nicely..." he says between kisses, grinding his hips into you. He was completely in control, just how he liked it.

"Please, Jin..."

"What?"

"Please fuck me. I need it." You really did.

Jin snaked a hand around his length, positioning himself to line up with your entrance before slowly, pushing into you until his hips met yours, skin on skin.

"Shit," he hisses, relishing in the warm, wet feeling of you stretching around him. That first thrust is always his favourite, he savours it every time.

Soon he starts thrusting his hips slowly into you, filling you so well you groan at the feeling. His fingers start to dig in to your hips, his nails scratching at the skin. It feels so good, the mixture of pain and pleasure something that you made a note to yourself to explore more with Jin in future.

With every thrust he's brushing up again that spot he found inside you, that familiar tightness growing in your stomach once again. You prayed this time he would let you cum; one denial was enough, surely?

With every thrust, your resolve weakened further and further.

"Oh, fuck... y/n," he groaned, sweat forming on his brow and chest. "You're amazing, god the way you jiggle as I fuck you... I love it," he spoke through gritted teeth, pleasure and lust overwhelming him all at one. "You're so beautiful, so so beautiful..." One hand caressed your cheek, pushing a strand of hair away from your face that had stuck to you with sweat.

"J-Jin... it feels so... ah!" he thrusts particularly hard, making you cry out.

"D-do you know how long I wanted this, y/n? How long I waited to ask you out?" he asks, his hips wildly pounding into yours, skin slapping on skin.

"J-Jin, I'm gonna..."

"Not yet... wait," he scorns, "Months, I waited to ask you out. I was... so busy, the band... oh fuck, I thought about you all the time. All the fucking time," he groaned, his own end getting closer and closer...

"J-Jin, please... can I cum...?" you sob, tears forming at the edges of your eyes. You're sure your make up has smudged but what kind of fucks did you give right now, with a man like Kim Seokjin filling you up?

"Cum for me, baby. Cum on me..." he commanded. Another few hard thrusts, and you did just that.

Clenching your walls against his cock, your orgasm rocketed through your body like a chemical reaction; fast and explosive. Your muscles convulsed as you squeezed your eyes shut tight, crying out an unintelligible string of expletives. Jin held your thighs close to his hips, still thrusting his hips to guide you through it. He made sure that you felt everything; every oversensitive little spark, every thrust of his hips. He needed you to feel as much as you possibly could.

But he was losing control of himself too, watching you hit every high you could. He'd never been so turned on, never felt so good as you clenched around him and writhed in front of him, squeezing your thighs against him as he pulled you as close as he could.

Just as you were starting to come down, his orgasm raged through him. Hot, white strings of cum erupted from him, filling you up as he lost his rhythm. His thrusts were as hard as he could make them, the strength spilling from his body whilst his body performed its own chemical reaction.

The both of you came down together, out of breath, sweaty and totally exhausted. He collapsed onto you, burying his head in your cleavage and hiding his face as he caught his breath. You giggled, looking at him through your fucked out eyes laying sprawled out on you. Both your bodies were hot and sweaty, but Jin found comfort in the extra pounds you had.

"God, you're so soft..." he groans, nestling into you.

"J-Jin, can you get off my tits?" you giggled, pushing him to lay next to you rather than on you. You were far too hot for that right now. Far too sweaty...

"Sorry... so comfy..." his controlling mannerisms seems to have ejected from his body the second his cum did. Now, he was acting a fool again, the playful and stupid Jin you first started crushing on.

"You're cute," you giggle, turning onto your side to face him.

"You're beautiful," he grinned, completely silly and yet completely sincere. "I meant it you know. I have wanted to ask you out for so long. You're just... perfect, y/n."

"Hmmm, yeah. I am perfect," you grin. "But you, Mr. Kim, are the eighth damn wonder of the world." He laughs at that.

"Am I that good in bed, huh?" he joked.

"Absolutely," you grinned, placing a kiss on his lips.

"I'm glad you think so," he sat up, pulling you until you lay over him, straddling his hips. "Because I'm just getting started..."

#kim seokjin #seokjin #jin #bts #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan #smut au #bts au #plus size #plus size reader #feeding kink #funny #fun sex

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captainscanadian · 5 years ago

Text

Better | Bucky Barnes x Reader (Part 10) - FINALE

My Masterlist

Summary: Things may have gotten better but you still need YOUR family...

Word Count: 9442

Pairing: Doctor!Bucky x Doctor!Reader, Steve Rogers x Peggy Carter (mentioned), Rebecca Barnes, Winnifred Barnes

Warnings: Swearing, Surgery, Organ Donation, Nudity, Cancer, Death Mention, William Shakespeare (check sparknotes if you would like but I just could not bother translating that shit!)

A/N: This is the first series that I have completed and I must say, I feel so damn accomplished. As I have said before, Better is a fic that is extremely close to my heart because of how personal it is to me. I loved writing every bit of it, even the angst and the fluff. I appreciate all the love that I got for this fic, with Better!Bucky stealing everyone’s hearts and the headcanons you all sent me when I felt really inspired to dive more into this little universe that I had created. We have two epilogues left so this isn’t goodbye. But thank you to @dramadreamer14 for being the one who got me started on here and for keeping me going until the end of the line (I HAD TO!). You’re the realest, Naynay! This one’s for you! <3

The steam that arose from the hot shower still lingered around the bathroom, the condensation clouding up the mirror as you stood in front of it. Fresh out of the shower and still in the nude, you took a moment to stare at the plain reflection of your delicate body. You watched as a drop of water trickled down your neck before reaching your sternum. Under your right breast was the waterproof dressing that kept covered the now restored masterpiece of Dr. Peter Parker. You could not help but run your fingers over the patch for a moment. These stitches should start dissolving soon.

Natasha had told you that since your incision had reopened and had to have been stitched up again, you might have a scar on your abdomen for the rest of your life; it was a constant reminder of your sacrifice and the trauma that you had to endure. Not that you minded, really. After all, this scar was also a reminder of you finally opening yourself up to your James.

The creaking noise of the door snapped you out of your thoughts for a moment and you noticed Bucky Barnes enter the bathroom. “I told you not to get out of the shower until I got back, doll.” He scolded you when he saw you standing in front of the mirror, shaking his head at your reflection as he wrapped the clean bath robe over your shoulder.

You gave him a small smile as you felt your cheeks heat up, looking down at your feet as the drops of water continued to trickle down your bare legs. You could not remember the last time you had managed to shave; it must have been a few days before your surgery. But with your lack of mobility when showering, you had not even bothered to make the effort. For the sake of not soaking your stitches, you had been avoiding taking a bath like the plague. While the shower had definitely helped with maintaining the cleanliness, the sutures in your body prevented you from bending over in order to shave.

Not that Bucky minded though. He was never one to believe in the social constructs of what made someone attractive, especially not with you. His common sense and medical knowledge combined were reason enough for him to know that hair growth was a natural bodily function within women and that shaving should not be a priority to someone who’s currently recovering from a partial liver transplant. He had ensured that you had no reason to feel insecure about that.

This would be the fourth day he had helped you out of the shower, the fourth time he had seen you completely naked and not made a big deal out of it. As a surgeon, he had seen it all during his decade on the job. But even though you were not his patient, even if you were the love of his life, he was not one to lose his self control and dignity just because you had stood before him unclothed. He understood that you were healing and he was caring for you. It was as simple as that.

He grabbed a clean towel from the rack and handed it to you so that you could dry yourself off. “Nat said that she’ll take a look at your stitches when she comes over tomorrow, just to see if they’re dissolving as they should be.” He told you, his head held low to the tiled bathroom floor. He would not even dare to steal a glance of your naked body without your consent. “I’ll let you get dried off.”

Before he could step out of the bathroom, you quickly grabbed his wrist. “James.” You gave him a soft smile as you stepped forward, leaning in slightly to peck his lips. “Thank you.”

He cocked his eyebrow slightly, giving you a look of confusion that was followed by a soft chuckle. “Get dried off so that I can change your dressing, okay? I’ll get started on breakfast.”

You gave him a nod as you watched him walk out of the bathroom, a sigh of contentment escaping your lips as you turned back to look at your reflection in the mirror. With the fog now cleared up, you could finally see yourself smiling and you began to dry yourself off.

While you were getting dressed, Bucky managed to strip and make your bed before making his way to the kitchen. He got started on making your breakfast, as he had been doing for the last few days. He would say that he was a decent cook for the most part. Having lived alone for all these years, he did have to learn how to make his own meals. However, in recent years with his added workload and unpredictable schedule, not to mention the financial stability, he had hired a personal chef to prep his meals for him while he was away.

His lunches and dinners had always been prepped and stored in his refrigerator by his professional meal prepper every week. But ever since you had come to stay with him, he had contacted the chef and made changes to his usual menu to include your dietary requirements as per Natasha’s instructions. While the fridge had been stored with pre-prepared meals of salmon and broccoli or an avocado salad for you, breakfast was always his thing.

Bucky always prepared you a bowl of oatmeal topped with fresh berries and some freshly steeped green tea, all of which were on the top of Natasha’s list of foods that were good for the liver. As he had learned recently, you were not that fond of the taste of grapefruit though you preferred a glass of cranberry juice with your dinner as replacement for wine. In the last four days, he had become quite fond of all of your weird quirks – from the temperature of the water when you shower to the way you ate your broccoli first before digging into the salmon, he liked all of it.

You got dressed into an oversized nightshirt that MJ had picked out for you after realizing that your closet was rather lacking of clothes that are comfortable enough for someone who’s just had surgery. It was lose around your body, covering a lot more skin compared to a hospital gown but also easy to breathe in. You pulled your dressing gown over your body as you made your way over to the kitchen. Bucky’s apartment was fairly too big for one person alone, with a breathtaking view of the river right outside of his living room window. It was roomy. The guest bedroom itself was three times as big as your entire loft apartment. A part of you felt slightly guilty for taking up that much space, for you had always believed that you deserved less than what you had. But you also felt safe in this apartment, for you were with your James. You were at his home. Home is where the heart is and you had given him your heart.

When you saw that Bucky had set down a bowl of oat meal in front of your seat, you groaned. “James, I can’t...” Your tone was rather whiney but it made him chuckle. “You can’t mask out the fibre with all those berries. It’s disgusting.”

He handed you a spoon as you sat down, his arm wrapped around your shoulder as he leaned down to kiss the top of your head. “If you eat this and drink your tea, I’ll give you an extra glass of cranberry juice for dinner.”

“You call that an incentive, Dr. Barnes?” You looked up at him with a pout of your lips. “I never thought I would say this but I would actually take the IV and feeding tube over this concoction that Natasha has graciously called breakfast.” You admitted as you took the spoon from him and sighed, struggling to take the first bite. “If that liver of mine doesn’t regenerate in the next few weeks, I swear to God...”

Pulling up his chair next to you, he sat down with his own bowl of oatmeal and held up his spoon. “I’m with you till the end of the line, doll.” He said as he took a bite of his breakfast, scrunching his nose at the texture of the warm oatmeal in his mouth. “Not as good as my usual protein shakes but this would do.”

You let out a chuckle as you took another bite of it, laying your head against his shoulder. “So, your usual diet includes protein shakes and an extensive menu prepared by a personal chef.” You noted, cheekily. “Good to know, Barnes...”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, it’s just that... there are a lot of things that I feel like I didn’t know about you until now.” You admitted, taking another bite before turning over to look at him. “And it seems like you know everything about me by now...”

It took a moment for your James to take in what you were saying and he bit down on his bottom lip, letting out a sigh before giving you a nod. “I do, don’t I?” He asked as he picked at his bowl of oatmeal before turning over to look at you. “I do know a lot about you, maybe more than you had told me.” Admitting that may not have been the best thing to do right not, but he did not care. After all, he wanted to be honest with you. If it meant that he should share what he had done, then so be it. If you did get mad at him for it, then he sure as hell deserved it for invading your privacy.

You raised your eyebrow slightly as you set down your spoon, licking your lips as you picked up your mug to take a sip of the green tea that had now cooled down. “Peggy may have mentioned it when I asked her why the terms on your contract were triple the amount that my parents owed the hospital. She said something about the outstanding medical bills in Philly, which she wouldn’t have known so I asked her how she did know and she was so quick to rat you out that I was actually surprised.” You told him as you laid his hand on top of his, sighing.

“I...”Bucky paused, not knowing how to respond to that. He could never trust Peggy with a secret, could he? For a woman who preaches about attorney-client privilege like it’s the Bible, she sure as hell lacked the social filter that was necessary when it came to his love life. She could not keep a secret. It did dawn on him that she may have had good intentions, but that did not make her attempts to meddle any better. “I... I’m sorry, I know I violated your privacy. But I only did it because I was worried and I was watching out for you...” He bit down on his bottom lip as he looked away from you, unable to maintain eye contact when you had just called him out on what he had done.

“James.” You shook your head. “She was also quick to explain that what you did was totally illegal and if I did want to take legal action against you, she would have to resign from being my attorney due to her conflict of interest.” You joked, chuckling softly as you tried to lighten up the mood.

“You’re... not mad?”

You shook your head. “No, I mean, I know why you did it. I had built up these walls around me and... I made it so hard for anyone to know anything about me. In a way, it’s my fault that you had to go out of your way to...” You sighed. “It shows me that you care, James, and I’m... I’m glad to have someone who cares enough about me to... not think twice about breaking the law.”

Bucky let out a sigh of relief that you were not mad at him. But how could you ever get mad at him in the first place? “Oh thank God, I was so worried... that you might end up hating me.” He admitted. “I’m sorry, doll. Even though I did have good intentions, what I did was wrong and I have to own up to that. If you do feel like punishing me for what I did, I’m more than willing to accept it.”

“Well, if you insist on being punished, then... since you seem to know everything about me, you could... maybe start off by telling me everything about you.” You told him as you laughed. “I mean, I did know that you came from old money and that you did not have to struggle financially. But you live in a big ass penthouse apartment, you drive a Mercedes but Wanda tells me that it’s not the only car you own... and you have a personal chef and a housekeeper who come in once a week. You seem a lot more... different than... most people I know. And no, I’m not saying this because I feel insecure or anything. I don’t... I just... you are so different, you could have had anything or anyone you wanted and to think that you chose my fucked up heart over that, I’m... I’m flattered.”

“You’re right, doll.” He admitted, picking at his bowl of oatmeal as he turned over to look at you. “I am different. We’ve both had very different upbringings, I won’t deny that. My grandparents were... fairly wealthy. My family’s quite influential in this little town of Shelbyville, Indiana. That’s where I was born. My parents met when they were kids and they were high school sweethearts. They got married right after they graduated from medical school, moved to Brooklyn for their residency and started up their own practice together, as partners. They were both very successful physicians but they also started a family together. Four kids... and a business to run, they could not do it on their own. I was pretty much raised by my nanny, Sarah...”

“Steve’s mother.” You noted, giving him a nod. Steve had told you about his own family situation growing up, with his parents being Irish immigrants who had their own struggles. Mr. Rogers had not been the best of fathers, but he had passed o when he was fairly young. Sarah Rogers had no choice but to become to sole breadwinner of her family, having a young son to take care of on her own. It must have been a miracle that she had managed to find employment with the Barnes. But from what you knew, the woman had pretty much raised your James and she had done a darn good job at it. “He’s told me a lot about her.”

“She was a wonderful woman, Y/N. I wish you could have met her. She would have loved you like her own child. She always treated us like we were her own children. She never acted like she was being paid to take care of us.” Bucky recalled fondly as he thought of his childhood. “She took care of us like we were her own. But she did have certain limits. She always called me Master James, told me that I should never pick on my little sisters and that I should always watch out for them, as their big brother. She always let me watch when she braided their hair or when she cooked, taught me a thing or two along the way. She was the reason why I managed to become friends with Steve. He was like another brother than a friend, really... he still is.”

“Do you miss her a lot?” You asked him, biting down on your bottom lip as you picked at your oatmeal. You were well aware that Steve’s mother had passed away quite a while ago. Though you did not know the details, you knew that she had passed away from cancer. But now that you knew that Bucky did have a close relationship with that woman, you could imagine how hard it must have been for her.

“I mean, yeah... I miss her a lot. I think about her every day, every single day when I go into work, every single time I see a patient, every single time I get called for a consult. I think of her and I miss her every single day. I never...” Looking back to his teenage days was not easy for Bucky. It was never easy for any teenager. But the worst part of it all had to be when he had lost Sarah. He had been nineteen years old back then, having taken a gap year after his high school graduation. Not only had he been unsure about what he wanted do with his life, but he had also made a pact with Steve that the two of them would attend NYU together. Perhaps his decision to declare a pre-med major may have been his attempt at blindly following his parents’ footsteps, but after Sarah’s death he knew exactly what kind of doctor he wanted to be. “I never realized how fucked up our health care system was... until I realized what actually happened to Sarah. I didn’t think that someone who had a clear case of BAC could be misdiagnosed with pneumonia. I didn’t think there was this... systemic... classism that was so deep-rooted... I think that was a wake-up call for me. All I could think of was... if Sarah had been in a better financial situation, she would have gotten better care and she might even be alive today. I think that made me want to be a better doctor than the ones she had, you know... because I don’t think any kid in this fucked up world deserves to lose their mother because their doctors weren’t good enough at doing their jobs.”

You nodded, understandingly. “She would have been so proud of you, James. She would have been so proud of both you and Steve, your sisters. She did a damn good job raising all of you and... she’s watching you do wonders, I’m sure.” You told him with a smile, your hand holding onto his.

His lips curled into a small smile as he nodded. “I do hope so, Y/N.” He admitted, sighing. “You know, I... I wasn’t always like this. Back then, all I cared about was being the best doctor that could be. And I was... good at my job. I’m a good doctor, I know that. I was better than those doctors that Sarah had. But I was so caught up with being a better doctor, that I often... I forgot to be human.” This was true. He did have his head right up his ass until a few years ago. “I was throwing myself into work and... I thought I was doing good, that cutting into hearts were enough. I had a privileged life, Y/N. I never understood how lucky I was that... I had parents who had successful careers or financial stability. I never understood that... I had made it this far was because I was privileged. I never thought about... giving back to those who didn’t have what I had. I... didn’t think that I could do so much more than I already was. I was so caught up with being a good doctor but what I realized later was that I needed to be a better person... because I had a lot of people who were looking up to me. Seeing you made me realize that... you’re not the one who should strive to be better, but me. I needed to be better, for myself ... for my goddaughter, my niece and nephew... for you. You made me realize that.”

You leaned over to give him a quick peck on his lips. “Well, you can’t be better than perfect... and you are perfect.” You told him, and he was indeed that. He was the perfect man, who had once had his flaws but he had worked to fix them all, for your sake.

After breakfast, you found yourself having taken your medication and making yourself comfortable on your James’ living room couch. The downside to being away from work was the fact that it was extremely difficult to kill time. Steve had forbidden you from even logging into your work email, let alone checking the files of your current patients whom you had transferred over to him for the time being. You had no other choice but to binge-watch whatever show was popular on Netflix. Hell, you had not even bothered to have an account on Netflix until Peter had forced you into creating one. You had a list of shows that you were planning to watch during your time in bed rest, as per Natasha’s recommendations. You were never fond of watching television, but at this point, you might as well keep yourself entertained.

While you had gotten immersed in the historically accurate depiction of the British royal family in The Crown, Bucky had found himself sitting in the dining room and catching up on some emails for work. He was on call at the moment but he had not been asked to come into the hospital just yet, so it was all good. Thankfully, Peggy was scheduled to spend the night with you while Steve was at home with Sarah. He had just finished replying to his last email when he got a phone call from his sister. His eyebrows furrowed slightly as he saw Rebecca Barnes’ name flash on his phone before he answered the call. “Hey Becca?”

“Hey Buck, just letting you know that mom and I are on our way over to yours right now. We should be there in a half hour or so.” Becca told her brother in a hurry. “I just came down to drop the kids off for the weekend and mom insisted that I join her for a little impromptu visit. She wants to see Y/N.”

“What?!” His eyes grew wide as he heard what his sister what just told him, but his tone was rather hushed as he did not want to bother you during your binge. “Rebecca, what the hell?! How did she know that Y/N was here and why the hell are you calling me instead of talking her out of coming here?!”

“Bucky, I think you and I both know the answer to that.” She replied, sighing. “You know Steve calls her at least twice a week. Apparently, she heard through the grape vine that you had paid off a large amount of money and asked him if he knew about it. You know Steve. He wouldn’t lie to her so... yeah, she knows about Y/N and you paying off her parents. Oh and Steve was gracious enough to rat me out too. Now she knows that I was also involved...” There was a pause before she let out a sigh. “So... yeah, mom wants to see Y/N and we’re on our way.”

To say that James Barnes was certain that one could not trust both the mister and missus Rogers would be an understatement. How could both the husband and the wife just rat him out to two of the most important women in his life like that? He had no idea. “Alright, thanks for the warning, I guess. I’ll see you when you get here.” Once he hung up the call, he was quick to make his way over to the living room. “Hey, doll?”

You picked up the remote to pause your show before turning your head slightly to face him. “Yeah?”

Biting down on his bottom lip, he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his sweat pants as he made his way around the couch. Sitting down on the loveseat across from you, he rubbed his temples for a moment, not knowing how to break this to you. He had not bothered letting his parents know about the events of the last few weeks, mainly because he did not know how to. But he also did not want to put you in an overwhelming position where you had to deal with them while you were also recovering from your surgery. Surely, you had met George and Winnifred Barnes before. But back then, you were only a colleague of his and now you were his girlfriend. “I don’t want to freak you out but... uh... my sister Becca just called and... my mom’s on her way here right now and she wants to see you.”

“What?!” You asked him in surprise. You had met the woman briefly before at Sarah Rogers’ second birthday party a few months ago. You certainly had a lot of respect for her. But now you were particularly nervous about meeting her again, as you happened to be dating her son. “How?”

Your James winced slightly at the thought of his best friend. “... Steve.” He replied with a sigh. “He told her everything and now she’s on her way here. My sister said that she wanted to see you.”

You let out a groan when he mentioned the name of your mentor. “Fucking Rogers...” You rolled your eyes as you laid your head back, sighing. “James, I don’t think I’m ready to meet your mother now. We’ve barely been a couple. What does she want to see me about?”

“I don’t know, doll.” Bucky agreed as he sighed, leaning over to place his hand on your foot. “You don’t have to put yourself through this if you don’t want to. I could just tell her that you’re not feeling like visitors and send her home.”

You shook your head. “Oh no, don’t do that. I don’t want to be rude.” You told him, biting down on your bottom lip. “I mean, you did say that she might be coming over every once in a while... right?”

“Well, she usually comes to do my laundry.” He admitted with a shrug. “Ever since she retired, she seems to have a lot of time on her hands so... she tends to stop by to do some chores around the house, you know, be a mom. But I was going to tell her to not come by in the next few weeks, you know, for your sake. But Steve just had to spill the beans to her and now’s she on her way.”

“When Peggy comes here tonight, I’ll make sure to give her a piece of my mind.”

The sound of his front door being unlocked by his mother’s set of keys may have startled Bucky slightly, for he sprung to his feet and stomped over to greet her in an instant. “Ma?”

“Hello, James.” The woman greeted her son with a warm smile upon seeing him rush to her, pulling him into a tight hug as she stood on the tip of her toes to reach his height. Even when her son had grown well into his adulthood, he would always be her little baby. As a once working mother who had been forced to spend so much time away from her children, she had always greeted them with a warm embrace when she came home. Her arms always wrapped tightly around them to show just how much she loved them despite not being around to show it as much as she would have liked. No wonder the Barnes children had turned out the way they had. They had two amazing women who had showered them with love and affection. They had never been deprived of a mother’s love, unlike yourself.

A part of him was relieved that his mother was not visibly upset by his actions, but he hugged her back rather hesitantly. All he could do was give Becca a death glare for not managing to talk her out of coming here. But it was too late now, since they were already here. He hoped for the best but for some reason, expected the worst. “Rebecca.”

“Brother.” She gave him an apologetic look that was followed by a shrug of her shoulders.

Pulling back from the hug, Winnifred Barnes ran her hand through her son’s hair fondly. “You look rather well-rested, son. Have you not been working in the last few days?” She asked him with her eyebrow raised at him.

“Uhm... no, not really.” He replied as he scratched the back of his neck. “I was on call the other night and I’m actually on call right now. I just haven’t had anyone call me in yet.”

“And here I thought my workaholic son had finally had a change of heart.” The woman joked as she began to make her way over to the living room. “How’s the lovely Y/N?”

“Uh...” He turned around to look at Becca before following her to the living room. “She’s doing alright...”

You turned off the television before getting out of your comfortable position on the couch, folding your blanket neatly and setting it aside. You fixed your dressing gown as you stood up, turning around towards the door to greet your boyfriend’s mother. “Dr. Barnes.” You smiled nervously at her.

“Oh honey, please... call me Winnie. Or Ma, Ma’s great too. Actually, I think I would prefer if you called me Ma.” She clarified with a smile, walking up to you and gently wrapping her arm around you. “Steve mentioned to me about your surgery the other day. I wish he could have told me sooner though. I would have come down and seen you at the hospital. But better late than never, right? How are you doing?”

“I’m doing much better now, thank you.” You told her with a smile and you could have sworn that your heart could have burst from the fondness that was so evident from this woman. “I... have some great people looking out for me so it’s all good.”

“Of course, you do!” Becca exclaimed as she walked up to you with a wide grin. “Hi, we haven’t met. I’m Becca Barnes and it’s so lovely to meet you, finally. My children have told me so much about you.”

You returned her smile, knowing very well that this woman had been the one who had dug into your past as per her brother’s request. “Peggy told me a lot about you as well, believe it or not.” You told her, making Bucky choke slightly.

Winnifred Barnes turned over to her son. “James, didn’t you say that you were working today? Why don’t you get on your way now? Becca and I can keep Y/N company while you’re gone.”

“Uh...” He looked away from his mother for a moment, turning to you with wide eyes. “I mean, I don’t have to go yet...”

A part of her was slightly surprised by his response, for she knew that her son would never turn down a chance to go into work earlier than he had been expected to be at work. But she was not an idiot. She knew that his reason for wanting to delay going in to the hospital was because he would rather stay at home with you.

She had to admit that it was slightly refreshing to see him like this. Bucky had remained single for while now and had rarely ever brought any women home. Winnifred had always been worried that her son would willingly choose to spend the rest of his life alone despite the fact that he was certainly capable of finding himself a wife. But she knew now that his heart had always been set on you and she could not be more grateful that the two of you had found each other.

When she had heard from Steve, and Becca after much insistence, about your familial situation, the woman’s heart broke. A mother’s love was meant to be the purest of them all. But the fact that your own mother had been the cause of your despair had sickened her. In an instant, she was longing to embrace you and shower you with the love that you had been so deprived of. A mother’s love, for you were now a daughter to her as much as the rest of them, if her son was so sure of making you his wife.

Just then, Bucky’s pager went off against the waistband of his sweat pants. A disappointed groan escaping his lips, he checked the page before making his way towards the dining room to grab his phone. A quick phone call to the nurses’ desk and MJ informing him of a ferry accident was reason enough for him to head to work. When he turned around to head back to the living room, he noticed that his sister had followed him. “What is it?”

Rebecca Barnes bit down on her bottom lip. “Mom... told me to give you something.” She told him as she reached into her purse to pull out a little black box. “When you’re ready, Buck...” She handed it to him and leaned over to kiss his cheek. “If you know that Y/N’s the one, I mean... I’m sure you know that by now. We all know that she’s the one, just... Mom loves her, but that’s not a surprise. Dad’s quite fond of her too, believe it or not. What’s there not to love about Y/N Y/L/N?”

His eyes grew wide as he took the box from her, pulling her into a hug and sighing. His eyes glazed over as he realized that he now had his family’s blessing. Although it was only a few days into the two of you being boyfriend and girlfriend, he had always known that it was you. But now his family did too. “She is the one, Becca.” He admitted, sighing. “She’s always been the one. I’ve always known that if I ever wanted to settle down and have a family of my own, if I didn’t have it all with Y/N, then I didn’t want it at all.”

Becca nodded as she rubbed his back, sighing. “She’s been through a hell of a lot, Bucky. She’s been through enough. She really needs a good family, one where she feels loved and accepted... and we have a damn good family, one that can love her... like family should. She’s earned every right to be a part of what we have. She deserves to be a Barnes.”

Pulling back from the hug, he wiped away his tears before looking down at the box that his sister had just handed him. Opening it to reveal the piece of jewelry that he had been so familiar with, he looked up at her. “Becca, is this...?”

“Our grandmother’s ring?” She nodded. “Yeah, it is. It’s the same one that she gave mom after she got married to dad. It’s a Barnes family heirloom and Y/N deserves it. Mom’s been holding onto it for the moment you... found yourself a woman you want to marry. She told me... what better way to welcome a new Barnes into the family than with a Barnes family heirloom?”

“I can’t believe it.”

“Promise me that you won’t put this off like you’ve been doing for all these years.” She asked her brother. “Promise me that you’ll do it sooner rather than later.”

Your James smiled before giving his sister a nod. “I promise.”

It had taken Bucky ten quick minutes to get dressed for work. As he was low on time, he was a little rushed. He had apologized to you a few times for having to leave you so abruptly and that too in the presence of his mother and sister.

But you had assured him that it was fine. “I knew you were on call, James. It’s cool. I’m just glad I don’t have to spend a few hours alone until Peggy gets here. It’s nice to have some company.” You told him.

He nodded as he leaned over to kiss the top of your head. “You better take care of yourself while I’m gone, you hear me? Your meals are in the fridge. Please eat on time and take your meds on time. No moving around too much while I’m gone and no trying to do chores either. You’re here to rest, not to be my unpaid housekeeper. Understood?”

You gave him a nod as your lips curled into a pout. “Yes, Dr. Barnes.” You giggled. “I’ll be fine. You’re leaving me with Brooklyn’s best internist and PI. What’s the worst that could happen?”

He chuckled softly as he turned over to look at his mom and sister, silently pleading them both not to overwhelm you in any way. He knew that they both understood, but he could not be so sure about it. After all, he wanted to make sure that you were comfortable.

“Oh don’t you worry, James. Rebecca and I can definitely keep her entertained while you’re gone.” Winnifred reassured her son, to which he had simply rolled his eyes in a playful manner.

“Bye Ma...” He waved at his mother, and then at his sister. “Bye Becca...” He turned to you. “Goodbye, doll. I love you... all three of you.” And with that, he turned around and made his way out the door.

You felt your cheeks heat up at his words and you hid your face away from Becca’s teasing look.

“Our boy’s turned into complete mush, Ma.” The PI noted as she giggled, her arm wrapped around you as you hid your face.

“I’ve never seen him so happy.” Her mother agreed, turning over to look at you. “Steve told me just how much he loves you, Y/N. I’m so happy for him... and for you. You two really deserve each other.”

“James... is a really great guy, Winnie.” You agreed as you looked up at her. “And I have you to thank for that.”

As the hours went by, both Winnifred and Rebecca Barnes had stayed with you. They had kept you fairly occupied, talking about the one man whom you all loved. You had learned a lot more about your James that day, by just listening to them talk for hours on end about him. Both Winnie and Becca had a lot of stories to share, from his childhood to his adulthood.

You had come to learn that Bucky had been a complete nerd at school due to his photographic memory, often being picked on by the other kids for his smarts. But he had always had a backbone too, standing up to his bullies when they picked on him and when they picked on Steve. That was no surprise for you though. He had stood up for you too. While his mother had told you stories of him as a child, his sister had been the one who had shared the most embarrassing ones of all – his first crush, his first kiss, his prom date... the dirt on Bucky that his mother would not have known. All in all, you had learned a lot about his life more than you had done that morning and you could not have fallen even more in love with him than you already were.

When lunchtime rolled around, Becca had been the one to heat up your pre-prepared meal while Winnie had read through the copy of Natasha’s specific instructions that Bucky had stuck to the refrigerator and took out the right medications for you to take. But the stories never stopped. They had kept their word to Bucky and kept you more entertained that any show on Netflix could have. You had learned quite a lot about Shelbyville, Indiana, where the Barnes were originally from and their family’s estate there. They had even managed to sneak an invite for you to be there for the next Barnes family reunion. For a family that had been well settled in Brooklyn, they still kept in touch with their roots. You admired that.

Becca had left shortly after lunch though, as she had to pick up her children from pre-school and head home. Before you knew it, the sun had set and you found yourself sitting in the living room with your boyfriend’s mother, a glass of cranberry juice in your hand and a glass of wine in hers. You had talked to her about how she had managed to have a successful career as a doctor, while also raising four children of her own. You had admitted two her of your interest to someday have a family of your own as well while still continue working, something that you never would have dreamed of a week ago. But things had changed for the better.

You had to admit that this woman acted like she was more of a mother to you than your own mother, despite only having known you for a few hours. You knew where James got his charm and good heart from. It was all from his mother. Winnie had been the one to heat up your dinner, before stealing one of her son’s portions for herself. As the two of you sat down to eat at the dinner table, Peggy had arrived to take up her shift with you according to Wanda’s schedule.

“Peggy, darling, I should have called you sooner but I just got so caught up with talking to Y/N that I forgot.” Winnie apologized to her. “Go home to your husband and kid, seriously. I have no problem staying with Y/N for the night. James wouldn’t be back until the morning and I’m sure you’ve got to be at work tomorrow. Don’t worry.”

“Winnie, are you sure?” The attorney asked her. “I really don’t mind staying with Y/N.”

“Honey, I have no job and my husband’s out of town. I have no problem spending the night here with Y/N until James gets out of work. Just go!” She told her with a chuckle.

The British woman wiggled her eyebrows at you when the other was looking away before she bid you farewell. Boy, was she going to give Steve a treat for spilling the beans to Winnifred Barnes.

You had been sitting on the couch with your feet up, pulling the blanket over your body as the sun had set and the stars had filled up the sky, little twinkling lights that reminded you of your endless night shifts with Dr. Barnes. You felt the happiest when you worked the night shifts with him, splitting take out and chatting away about the weirdest things. And now you were doing almost the same with his mother. “Thanks for being here, Ma...” You told her as you turned over to look at the woman who sat in the loveseat across from you. Your eyes were a little droopy from the exhaustion of the day despite not doing much. It seemed as though you found yourself becoming tired rather easily nowadays, thanks to the medications you were taking and the extensive process of literally re-growing an organ that you had managed to cut off and donate.

“I think it’s time you went to bed, sweetheart.” Winnie told you as she watched you let out a yawn.

You shook your head. “Maybe in a few minutes...” You told her, letting out a soft chuckle. “I haven’t been able to sleep on the bed. It feels too soft sometimes. Plus, I’m way too comfortable on this couch right now so... let me just savor that some more and then I can go to bed.”

A soft chuckle escaped the woman’s lips as your response and she stood up from her seat. “How have you been sleeping then?” She asked you as she sat down next to you on the couch, her arm wrapped gently around your shoulder.

“Well, James... usually stays up until I fall asleep. He sleeps in the guest room with me sometimes.” You replied, blushing slightly. “I think he likes to watch me sleep, to make sure I’m okay. And when he’s working nights, Nat and Wanda... snuggle up to me until I fall asleep.”

You did not even realize how that conversation had ended. But unbeknownst to you, you had managed to fall asleep on Winnifred Barnes’ shoulder that night. Not wanting to wake you up, the woman had made herself comfortable on the couch while she laid your head on her lap, her hand gently stroking your hair while she had dozed off.

When Bucky Barnes had returned to his penthouse apartment following his excruciating night shift, the least that he would have expected was for you to be asleep in the guest bedroom with Peggy taking the couch. But what he had walked into was something much better than that. Seeing you fast asleep on his mother’s lap while she had woken up to the sound of him coming home was everything he could have wanted and more.

He tiptoed over to the living room, setting his bag down on the coffee table before sitting down on the loveseat across from his mother. “I’ve never seen her sleep so peacefully... and believe me, I would know. I’ve watched her sleep quite a few times.” He whispered, trying not to wake you up.

Winnifred Barnes laughed softly at her son before shaking her head, her hand still clutching onto yours as you slept. “Steve may have mentioned that as well. He would never leave anything out.”

“That punk...” He rolled his eyes with a chuckle. “But... uh... are you not mad at me for what I did, Ma? I should have at least told you and dad before I went ahead with my... excessive spending.”

“Oh James, you know you don’t have to apologize for that.” She shrugged it off. “You were protecting the woman you love, as you should have. If anything, it just made me so proud that... I must have done something right, raising an absolute gentleman like you.”

Bucky let out a chuckle. “Yeah... well... I wasn’t always a gentleman. I think the term that one would use to describe me was... fuck boy or man whore. I’m pretty sure it was one or the other.” He had to admit that he was ashamed of his past. He had to apologize for the way his actions had often brought shame to his parents back then. “I gave you and dad such a hard time, acting so reckless and stupid.”

“You were young... and stupid, kid. But that’s all part of growing up. You do stupid things but you eventually learn from them. We can’t hold it against you for doing what everyone else your age was doing.” Winnie told her son. “But I think your father and I both knew that you would grow up eventually and you would change. We couldn’t be more proud of you, for everything you’ve accomplished as a surgeon... and as a philanthropist.”

“I don’t think I should take credit for that, Ma.” He smiled, motioning towards you. “It was all her. She made me better.”

“And that’s why I knew that she’s the one.”

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the ring box that Becca had given him the day before. “Thanks for this, Ma.” He told her as he fumbled with the box for a moment, looking up at his mother with a content smile. “Thanks for everything. Thanks for being a good mom. I was lucky to have a mom like you and now I know that not many people can say that about their mothers, Y/N included.”

“The best part of being a mother was coming home to you and your sisters. Your dad and I had you before we did our residencies. When we moved to New York, we weren’t sure how we were going to manage raising you while working full time. Sarah was a big help but I always knew that I had to do my best to be a part of your life. I was not going to put my career over my children, because in the end it was your father and I who decided to have you when we had you.” She told him, a genuine smile evident on her face. “I love you, James. I always wanted you to know that, because a kid should never be deprived of a mother’s love, no matter how old he is or if he’s the best heart surgeon in New York. You’ll always be my little boy and I’m so proud of you.”

“I love you too, Ma... and I know that as she gets to know you, Y/N would love you too. She needs a good mom in her life and you’re the best mom I know.” Standing up from his seat, he walked around the coffee table to give her a kiss on the cheek. “You should probably go home and get some sleep. I’ve got her from here.”

James Barnes had a few hours to contemplate how he was going to do this. But he knew that this was exactly what his heart had desired. He was going to ask you to marry him the moment you woke up, not because he wanted to rush you into this relationship. He was not impatient, but this was not for him. He knew that Becca had been right about one thing – you needed a good family and the unconditional love that came with it. You needed a mother who would shower you with love and a father who would treat you as a human being. You had your girl friends but you also needed sisters. You needed to be a part of something more than just your little group of friends at the hospital. You needed family.

When Peggy’s parents had refused to attend her wedding to Steve, she had been quite upset. When he had asked Steve why their absence was such a big deal, Steve had explained to his promiscuous self that marriage was more than just two people coming together. It was about two families coming together as one. But you did not have a family of your own, so he might as well make you a part of his.

Bucky, although claimed to be lacking in the romantic department, had certainly proved that he was capable of pulling off some elaborate proposal if he wanted to. He could certainly afford it and a woman like you deserved to get engaged in style. But if he knew one thing about the woman he loved, it was that Y/N Y/L/N lived a rather simple life. She did not care for the riches, but for the thought that went behind every single thing he would do for her. You would want a simple yet genuine proposal from him, so that was exactly what he was going to give you.

“I loved hanging out with your mom and sister. I got a lot of dirt about you and your rebellious years. You’ve lived quite the life, Dr. Barnes.” You told your boyfriend as you made your way towards the kitchen once you had showered and gotten dressed. A look of confusion had plastered across to your face as the aroma of fresh pastry lingered up to your nostrils, much to the contrast of the usual morning oatmeal topped with fresh berries that you had been so used to. “James?”

“I was thinking... that after four whole days of oatmeal for breakfast, you might want something a little bit more indulging.” He chuckled softly as he set a plate of Cannoli’s on the kitchen island. “I ordered it from the little bakery down the street. They’re my favorite cheat meal.”

“Cannoli’s?” You asked, your eyebrow raised as you sat down on the chair. “What’s the occasion?”

“It was the closest thing I could find to a Venetian feast at such short notice.” He replied with a shrug as he walked around the kitchen island to kiss you softly.

“Why a Venetian feast?” You asked him as you picked up one of the pastry rolls and took a bite, letting the chocolate-y mascarpone filling give life to your partially dead taste buds.

Your James took a step back from you for a moment, taking your free hand in his as he bit down on his bottom lip. If he was going to do this, he was going to do this right now, because he did not want to put this off like he had put off confessing his love to you for years. He was not going to keep you waiting on him any longer that he had already done. “As our good friend William Shakespeare once wrote... You see me, Lady Y/L/N, where I stand... Such I am. Though for myself alone... I would not be ambitious in my wish... To wish myself much better, yet for you... I would be trebled twenty times myself- A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times more rich- That only to stand high in your account.”

Your eyes glazed over as you realized what he was saying. It was Portia’s monologue to Bassanio before she gave him her ring as a symbol of her love and commitment to him in The Merchant of Venice. The only difference though, was that he had changed the pronouns. “James.”

“Happy in this- he is not yet so old... but he may learn. Happier than this- he is not bred so dull but he can learn. Happiest of all is that his gentle spirit... commits itself to yours to be directed... as from his lady, his governor, his queen. Myself and what is mine to you and yours... Is now converted.” Bucky was in tears as he pulled out the little black ring box from his pocket and held up to you, dropping to his knee as he showed you the ring. His heart was beating right out of his chest, but for once he felt truly alive. His heart was no longer stone cold or dead. Yes, you had thawed him out completely. “I give them with this ring.”

You looked down at the vintage diamond ring that he had been holding. “James...” You crouched down to grab his face, his hair getting entangled with your fingers as you wiped away his tears with both of your thumbs.

“I’ve lived a life so different from yours, Y/N. I had all the money in the world and a loving family. I want what was mine to be yours too.” He sniffled. “I want you to have a family. I want you to be a part of mine. I want you to be a Barnes, if you would accept my proposal.”

Your voice was trembling and you were unable to speak. You nodded your head quickly as you continued to cry, your hands not leaving his face. Your eyes darted down to the ring that he had been holding and you nodded once more. Removing your hands from his cheeks, you held out the palm of your left hand towards him.

Bucky grinned widely as he wiped away his tears, retrieving the ring from its box to gently slide it onto your ring finger. “You don’t have to marry me right away. It can be tomorrow morning or ten years from now, I don’t care. You don’t have to have a custom made dress and flower arrangements. A courthouse wedding with a judge and two witnesses is more than enough for me, as long as it’s you that I’m marrying.”

“I think I have a better idea, Dr. Barnes.” You told him as you took both of his hands in yours. “How about we get married on Valentine’s Day? In your hometown of Shelbyville, Indiana... at your family’s estate, surrounded by your family and all of our friends. Steve would be your best man. Sam, Clint, your other friends and your brother-in-law would be your remaining groomsmen. Natasha would be my maid of honor and she’ll help me plan the wedding, from the color scheme to the flower arrangements and picking out a dress. Your three sisters, Peggy, Wanda would be my bridesmaids. Sarah and your little niece would be flower girls, your nephew the ring bearer and... the Chief’s ordained so he can marry us. Your parents will be sitting front row... and Matthew can walk me down the aisle.”

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