#hopefully it stays cold and rainy and miserable so all i want to do is work on writing

[tennessoui]

Can I haaave *perusing the menu very carefully* "mine" for the keyword search?

hello!! of course you can thank you !! (i just realized it's wednesday today so that's perfect timing :D

so funnily enough this word only occurs three times in the fic so far, probably because they're not together yet even though it's nearing 50k lol so while they're all kinds of weird about each other, they're no looking at each other and thinking mine yet

(sorta)

here is the second occurrence - it is in the middle of a letter that obi-wan writes to anakin

Do you remember that first flight from Tatooine to Coruscant? Your first time in deep space, I believe. After a few hours of watching you fuss with a pilfered blanket, trying to fashion it into a cloak of some sort, I lent you mine. At the time, I thought I’d packed another, but it must have been lost amidst the previous few days’ action. In turn then, I stole my master’s after several hours of shivering in my temporary sleeping quarters. Qui-Gon naturally ran hot, and he was always better than me at relegating his temperature with the use of the Force. I suppose, after he became one with the Force again and his clothing was recycled to the quartermaster for repurposing and there were no cloaks of my master’s left for me to steal, I learned the same temperature regulation skills. I suppose I just wanted to say that I hope, wherever you are, you are warm.

[send me a word and i'll see if it's my big bang wip, then post the line it's in]

[theladyofdeath]

A Rainy Day in October {Elriel}

31 Days of Halloween: Day 7.

All installments co-written with @snelbz​

Based on a prompt sent in by anon: “ Hi ! For your Fall prompts, can i request an elriel where they are stuck at one’s appartement because of a very rainy autumn day ... and like, you know , maybe there is only one bed or something 😆 - anon “

Autumn/Halloween 2020 {Collection}

The rain was pouring, soaking Azriel’s hoodie as he ran from his car to the landing of the apartment complex. He tried to shake off as much water as possible as he hurried up the stairs, wondering how much the items in the large paper bag he carried remained dry. 

He had called Elain that morning, after he’d gotten the call saying that work was cancelled for the day. They were expected to start paving a back road just outside of the city, but paving in the rain was a nonexistent talent.

Which meant he got to spend the day with his girlfriend. 

He’d stopped on his way and had picked up a bottle of premade mimosa, some chicken, bacon, and cheese croissants from the deli, and a giant bag of caramel corn.

Elain’s favorite.

He knocked on the door just after ten, and waited for her to answer.

When she did, he didn’t expect her to still be in her pajamas.

He chuckled and asked, “Not getting dressed today?”

“Nope,” she said, popping her lips on the P noise. “We’re having a lazy day.”

“A lazy day, huh?” He asked, walking in and setting the bags on the floor. He immediately tugged the hoodie off, only to find that his t-shirt beneath was soaked, too. “Could that lazy day include putting my clothes in the dryer?”

Elain shook her head as she laughed quietly. “Yes, and I’ll get the sweats and t-shirt I wore home the other morning.”

The reminder of what had taken place between them only a few nights before had Elain’s cheeks heating and Azriel smirked. “Okay.”

He headed towards her laundry room and tossed his clothes in the dryer. He was unbuttoning his jeans when Elain appeared with a bundle of clothes in her arms.

“I can’t believe you made it to your door in those,” he said, nodding to the bundle in her arms as he yanked off his jeans and tossed them into the dryer before pressing start. “They swallow you.”

“Yes,” she agreed, “they do, which is why I love them.”

“That’s the only reason you love them?” he asked, amused, as he pulled the sweatpants up over his briefs.

“That,” she said, slowly, “and because they smell like you.”

“Smell like me?” he repeated, pulling his shirt over his wet hair. “Hopefully I smell good.” 

“Delicious,” she promised, and then he was charging at her, lifting her up, and tossing her over his shoulder. She laughed, bracing her open palms on his lower back. 

He carried her back to the living room, where Elain had already lit candles and taken out every single blanket she had ever bought and put them on her couch. 

“Lazy day, huh?” Azriel asked, and he dropped Elain down on the couch. 

She bounced a few times on the cushions before coming to a still. Her grin was still wide when she said, “Yes. It’s cold, it’s raining, we both have the day off, and I’m ready to eat junk food, get drunk, and watch ridiculous Halloween movies.” 

Azriel shook his head, slowly. “I knew there was a reason why I loved you.”

That was new for them, saying  I love you, and every time Azriel did, it made him feel completely and utterly alive. 

Elain’s smile softened. “One of the many reasons, I hope.”

Azriel smirked. “It’s a long list, I promise.”

He padded back over to the door and got the paper bag before bringing it back to the couch.

Elain was elated by his choice in snacks and she popped the cork off of the mimosas, drinking it straight from the bottle. They were snuggled up on the couch watching the Nightmare Before Christmas when Azriel said, “So I have a question.”

“Shoot,” she said, popping a piece of caramel corn into her mouth.

He waited for a second then said, “How would you feel about...moving in together?”

Elain froze and Azriel quickly added, “I know it’s only been a few months.”

Elain didn’t say anything, just stared at the caramel corn that stayed a few inches from her mouth, frozen in midair. 

“Please say something,” he said, quietly.

“I just… I wasn’t expecting that,” she said, laughing, softly.

“No, I know, I just…” He started rubbing the back of his neck, a usual sign that Azriel was panicking inside. “We’ve been best friends for ten years, Lainy. I’m in love with you. I have always been in love with you, since the ninth grade. I just...we’re with each other every day, anyway, you know? And, you’ve been sleeping at my place, and I’ve been sleeping here, and doesn’t it just make sense?” 

“You want to move in with me...because it makes sense?” she asked, lifting a brow.

“No,” he said, quickly. “I want to move in with you because you’re the last thing I want to see before I go to sleep and the first thing I want to see when I wake up.”

Elain’s eyes softened as she leaned back into him. “We’ll see.”

“We’ll see?” he asked, chuckling. “See on what?” 

“We know a lot about each other, Az, but we’ve never lived together,” she said, simply, taking another chug from the mimosa bottle. “I have to know what you’re going to be like to live with before I live with you.”

He knew that little smile on her lips.

She was playing with him, teasing him.

“And is there something that might be a dealbreaker that I need to know about?”

Elain pretended to think long and hard about it, which resulted in Azriel poking her in the side. She giggled, pulling one of her many blankets up over her body, and halfway over Azriel. “Leaving the toilet seat up.”

Azriel huffed a laugh. “Leaving the toilet seat up?”

“Leaving the toilet seat up,” she confirmed, nodding. “What if I had to go in the middle of the night? I mean, I wouldn’t turn the light on, because turning the light on in the middle of the night is torture. And, if you left the seat up, I’d sit down, and fall into the toilet, then I’ll be tired and mad and, disgustingly enough, probably wet from toilet water. So. Yes. Leaving the toilet seat up is a dealbreaker.” 

“Hmmm,” Azriel began, his arms around her tightening. “Alright. I guess I could follow that rule. Anything else?”

Elain sighed, tapping her chin as she thought. “Flowers. I like to be brought flowers from time to time, even in the fall and the winter. I like to have them in a vase on the table, year round.” 

Azriel tried to control his spreading grin. “Alright, I can do that.”

“Are you remembering all of this?” she asked.

“Yes,” he promised. “Anything else?” 

She looked up at him. “You have to promise to always kiss me goodnight.” 

“Always?”

“Always.”

“Every night?”

“Every single one.”

“And if I don’t?” he asked, unable to stop that spreading grin. 

Elain shrugged, pressing her lips together, trying to look serious and so miserably failing. “I’m kicking you out.”

“Well then I guess I’ll have to make sure I remember to do that,” he paused, pressing a kiss to her lips. “Every.” Kiss. “Single.” Kiss. “Night.”

The kiss lasted longer this time. But when Elain pulled back, her brown eyes were sparkling. “If you can agree to those terms, I guess we can move in together.”

He smirked. “Who’s apartment will we live in?”

“Oh, this one,” she said, without any hesitation. “No doubt.”

Azriel snorted. “I was hoping you’d say that.” 

It was true that his studio apartment didn’t have much room, even though he did love the aesthetic of it. Elain’s was practical. She had her bedroom - their bedroom - and then her spare room, along with a nice, big bathroom and a kitchen that had a giant island in the middle of it.

Not to mention the massive living room and outside balcony. 

His studio apartment was about as big as Elain’s kitchen, alone. 

“How about a pet? Are we getting a pet, if I move in?” Azriel asked. 

“A pet?” Elain hummed. “Maybe a cat. I like cats. You like cats.” 

“I do like cats,” Azriel agreed. “I wouldn’t mind a little black kitten.”

“An all black cat?” Elain asked. “They say they’re bad luck, you know.”

“They’re spooky, I like spooky,” Azriel argued, lightly. 

“Spooky,” Elain mused, trailing her fingers up and down his jaw. “I guess I can do spooky, if it means I get my flowers.”

“I’ll always get you flowers. And I’ll cook you dinner when you’ve had a long day.” He caught her hand and pressed kisses to her fingertips. “We can go on those god awful early morning hikes you love so much.”

“I love early morning hikes,” she muttered.

“I know,” he said, kissing her, softly. “And I’ll gladly go with you.” Even though he loathed the mornings.

“What else?” She breathed. 

“I’ll rub your back after work,” he promised. “And, I’ll clean, and do the laundry. I’m very good at folding clothes.”

Elain laughed, breathily. “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” Azriel whispered. “I’ll also bring the mail in every day and make sure the toilet paper and shampoo are always stocked.”

Elain grinned, kissing him, yet again. “Gods, you’re the perfect roommate.”

“I know,” he agreed, making Elain laugh. “Is that a yes, then?”

Elain pulled back and took his face into her hands. “Of course it’s a yes.”

As the rain continued to beat on the windows, Azriel showed Elain many, many more ways he could be her perfect roommate.

[someonefantastic]

Ok, Who Had Natural Disasters on Their 2020 Bingo Card?

Forgot to cross post this yesterday whoops. Anways, we're getting so close to the end and I am both very excited and also sad to see this go. Oh well, at least we have four more days! I had such fun writing this, pining shules is such fun and I hope y'all enjoy reading this! Probably takes place between 3x13 and 3x16 Heavy T rating due to slight nudity and some innuendos but it's still SFW. Also warning for scars/past trauma (nothing too bad though) Summary: It was all Shawn's fault, that much Juliet was sure. It was his fault they were stuck in the woods in the middle of the storm and it was his fault they'd have to find a way to get warm. Unfortunately she was having a very hard time staying mad at him... it was probably the hair. also on ao3 ___ It was all Shawn’s fault.

Or at least, that’s what Juliet told herself as she trudged up the river bank. It was rainy and wet, a mixture of mud and leaves sloshed beneath her toes. Her shoes had long disappeared, swept away by the raging waters and she mourned the loss of those heels. Her clothes clung miserably to her skin doing little to protect her from the onslaught of rain pelting her. Groaning, she brushed her soaked and tangled hair out of her eyes.

Behind her was another groan as Shawn waded towards dry land. Reaching the grass she turned around, hands on her hips as she watched him peel himself from the river. If she hadn’t been pissed at him she may have admired the way his flannel clung to his skin, revealing a surprisingly toned upper body or the messy damp hair that hung just barely over his eyes. But those were memories for a different day because she was fuming.

“What the crap was that Spencer?” It was more of a demand than a question and he squinted up at her.

“What?” His eyebrows furrowed. “You’re mad at me for saving your life?”

She shook her head, scowling. “You didn’t save my life, you almost killed us!” She paused for a moment before deciding to add, “Plus I had that guy!”

Throwing out his hands he began to walk towards her, “Jules please, he was about to shoot you. It was either a bullet or the river.”

She humphed, turning away from him. “You still could have killed us.”

She heard him sigh and a hand was placed on her shoulder, “Jules, I’m sorry. I panicked and made a rash decision. I just… got…” Another sigh, “scared.”

Her anger froze as his words struck her. He was scared. She had seen a lot of emotions from him over the past few years- knew he could be kind and gentle in addition to his usual brand of eccentric- but she had never seen him scared. Truly scared, not just running away from a supposed ghost or a suspected murder. More importantly, he was scared for her. Her heart twisted, emotions that she’d felt before but never paid much mind starting to bubble to the surface.

“I forgive you, Shawn,” She started, turning around and offering up a small smile. “But next time, let me make the rash decisions. I am the one with the training after all.”

He gave a nod. “Deal.”

Thunder rolled in the distance and she found herself frowning yet again. It had been raining for three days straight- an anomaly for typically warm, sunny Santa Barbara- and it seemed like another thunderstorm was upon them. She looked around, trying to get a sense of their surroundings but she recognized nothing, the rain doing little to aid her quest.

“I think we’re lost.”

He spun in a circle, eyes darting around. “Agreed.”

She gave another heavy sigh, and shivered, her wet clothes barely defending her from the frigid air. “I guess we’ll just have to lay low for now. Hopefully, they’ll send a search and rescue team out soon or the rain will die down.” A violent shiver wracked her body. “But for now, we should find some way to get warm.”

“Aw man the one time I didn’t bring a tent to a crime scene.” He joked and she rolled her eyes.

Spotting a nearby pine tree, a small smirk broke out across her face, “We don’t need a tent.” She trekked towards the tree, ignoring his confused looks. “You don’t happen to have a knife on you do you?”

Still bewildered he reached into his pocket, producing a small swiss army knife. “Never leave home without it.”

She raised an eyebrow, admittedly a little impressed by his forward-thinking. Taking the knife from his hands- and ignoring how her fingers tingled as they brushed against his- she started breaking and cutting down pine branches. Shawn soon jumped in, following her lead as they gathered the material. Once they got enough, she then began leaning them against the trunk of the tree, forming a tent-like structure.

When they finished, she stepped back, hands on her hips to admire their work.

“Wow,” Shawn spoke up from beside her, “That’s amazing that you know how to do this.”

She shrugged, “I was a girl scout.”

“Doesn’t change what I said.”

She turned her head, ready to thank him but her eyes went wide as she noticed him shaking violently. Glancing down at her own hands, her worry tripled as she watched them tremble.

“We need to get warm.” He said, staring at her with concern and she wondered if she looked as cold as he did.

She nodded and beckoned him into their makeshift shelter. It was a tight fit, the design leaving them with little wiggle room. She wound up face to face with him, their chests pressed together and their noses inches from colliding. A shiver ran down her spine- though not from the cold- rather it was from his warm breath ghosting over her skin. It smelled like pineapples and mint and it took every bone in her body to keep her from leaning forward and tasting him herself.

The air hung tense around them and she had to duck her head, attempting to break the hold he seemed to have over her. This had been a very bad idea. Why on earth did she think that being near Shawn would be a good idea? She was trying to avoid these feelings for pete’s sake. They had been dancing around each other more and more as of late. She was attracted to him for sure, a realization that had hit her after football pants and charming smiles and coming to terms with the fact that she didn’t hate flirting with him. But she couldn’t act upon it. She wasn’t ready, he wasn’t ready, it wasn’t their moment.

He shivered against her, snapping her out of her thoughts as she examined how his face had gone unusually pale. Her own body was freezing, a permanent chill that seemed ingrained in her bones. This wasn’t working. They needed to get warm faster. If one or both of them got hypothermia, it would cause their bad situation to get even worse.

She squeezed her eyes shut, knowing what she had to do but hating that she had to do it. With a sigh, she opened them, biting her lip. “Shawn… we need to get warmer.”

He cocked an eyebrow, a smirk breaking out over his face. “Detective O’Hara, are you asking to cuddle with me?”

She shook her head, beginning to shimmy out of their shelter. His face dropped and he sat up slightly, looking at her through the opening. “Jules, I was joking, I didn’t mean to make you leave.”

Rolling her eyes, she sat back on her haunches, pulling off her suit coat. “Yes, Shawn we can cuddle.” Her tone was exasperated but she couldn't help but inwardly smile as his eyes lit up. “But-” She held up a finger, effectively silencing whatever flirty remark he had, “we need to do something else first.”

“What-” The question died in the air, his eyes going wide as she began to unbutton her blouse. “Jules…”

Heat began to crawl up her neck and into her cheeks as she watched him stare dumbfounded. She took a deep breath, attempting to quiet her nerves. “Skin to skin contact is the fastest way to get warm. Plus with our wet clothes, we’re just waiting for hypothermia to set in.” That was good, that was logical and she couldn’t argue with logic.

Unfortunately, he could. A sly grin spread across his face as he got out of the shelter. “Just admit you want to see me naked.”

She shot him a glare which promptly lost its effect as she shed her shirt, his eyes lingering on her newly exposed skin. “Not naked. We’re keeping our undergarments on. This is purely professional.”

“Understood.” He nodded, pulling off his flannel. “Just two co-workers cuddling half-naked in the woods... super professional.”

Sighing, she cocked her head to shoot him another look but froze at the sight of his bare chest. His baggy shirts really did not do him justice. He was surprisingly toned, fit in all the right places but not overly muscled. Running from bad guys sure had its perks. He had filled out nicely, no longer the skinny lanky guy that she had first met- she didn’t mind Shawn then but now… he could get her hot under the collar with just one look. His arms looked particularly nice and she wondered what it’d be like to be held by him.

Closing her eyes, she shook her head, trying to rid the hundreds of nonprofessional thoughts that were racing through her mind. Now was not the time to be imagining the guy you had to cuddle with for warmth in some not exactly appropriate situations. When she opened them again, he was staring at her curiously, clad in just boxers and she suddenly couldn't remember how to speak.

“Jules please, I know it’s a lot to take in but try to control yourself.” He was joking of course but it did little to stop a blush from forming across her cheeks.

She removed her pants quickly, not giving herself any more time to think before getting back into the shelter. He crawled in behind her- taking some time first to pull some extra branches over the opening and situate their clothes at the entrance- and lay down in his previous spot. They weren’t as close as before but it was close enough and she felt her face heat up again. He was very attractive from afar but now… up close… she almost forgot how to breathe.

The two lay in almost silence, wind swirling around outside of their shelter and an awkward tension hanging over them. He was staring intensely at a spot above her and she couldn’t help herself from taking advantage of the opportunity to look over his body. He really was toned, and smooth, and she wondered what it’d feel like to run her hands down his chest.

Closing her eyes, she tried to ward off any more unprofessional thoughts with little avail. When she opened them again, her attention was caught by a faint scar in the middle of his rip case. It was long and thick and faded yet still there and she knew it was from heart surgery. She wanted to ask him about it, wanted to know his secrets and dive into his past but she also knew now wasn’t the time.

Her brain instead switched to her own scars and her stretch marks- bullet and knife wounds, cuts and scrapes from broken bones or on the job injuries- and she shifted uncomfortably, arms moving to cross her chest, suddenly self-conscious. She wanted him to think the best of her but it was hard when her body was so broken and worn.

“I’m sorry Jules.” His voice snapped her attention back to his face, eyebrow cocking at his expression. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Her eyes widened and she realized that he noticed her shift in mood, though he drew the wrong conclusion. She shook her head, “If anyone should be sorry, it’s me. This was my idea after all.” Biting her lip, she avoided his eyes. “Besides... I’m not uncomfortable because of you.”

He made a little sound of curiosity but didn’t say anything else, clearly waiting for her to continue and she sighed hating having to be vulnerable before him. “I’m just… maybe… a little…” She looked up at him through her eyelashes, “self-conscious.”

His eyes widened, “Jules...”

“I know, I know, it’s stupid.” She was quick to backtrack. “I see these scars and marks and I just think I’m broken and I know it’s not true but that’s just how I feel.”

Eyebrows creasing, he adamantly shook his head. “It’s not stupid at all. I know feelings suck sometimes…” She looked down again and he sighed. “Look Jules, I have a giant scar on my chest.” He gestured to the area, making her cheeks tinge pink. “It’s the part of me that I like the least but so far in my life barely anyone’s thought I look ugly with it and if they did, then it was their loss. It’s part of who I am no matter how much I dislike it and it tells a story. I’m sure your scars do the same so you don’t have anything to worry about.” She offered him a small smile.

“Besides, I think you’re… I mean you’re… well-” He bit his lip and hope rose in her chest, curious to what he’d have to say- curious if this was their moment after all. “You,” He finished and the moment ended.

She was quick to recuperate from her disappointment, shaking it off and smiling at him. “Thanks, Shawn.” The smile turned playful. “And if it makes you feel any better, I think you’re not too bad yourself.”

In a flash his signature smirk was back, eyes dancing. “It’s the hair, right? Girls dig the hair.”

She laughed, “Sure. It’s totally the hair.”

Chuckling, he grabbed her hips, pulling her closer. Suddenly, she found that it was very hard to breathe. Her body was pressed flush against his, noses inches away from touching. She was so close she could see the splatter of freckles over his nose, flecks of brown in his eyes, the stubble that lined his chin.

“Sorry,” He muttered but his eyes showed no sign of regret.

“You need to stop apologizing.” Her voice was low and husky and frankly, she wasn’t sure how she was able to speak.

His eyes flickered from her’s to her lips. “Noted.”

She wondered what it would be like to kiss him. Would it be slow and soft, their lips caressing in a gentle dance? Or would it be hard and fast, as if they never wanted to breathe again? Her stomach clenched, heart beating so hard that she thought he might feel it through her skin. She wanted so badly to kiss him, to run her fingers through his hair or down his cheek, feeling his stubble scratch against her palm. To pepper little kisses across his scar and see that Shawn Spencer that he didn’t dare show to the world.

But she couldn't kiss him. Not today.

Today they were just two co-workers, lost in the woods during a thunderstorm. They weren’t dating, she wasn’t his girlfriend, they were just friends. Friends who had to snuggle half-naked for warmth but friends nevertheless.

“Shawn…?” She asked, breathlessly.

His voice was barely a whisper, “Yeah?”

She swallowed heavily, trying hard to get the words out. “I guess we should get to the snuggling part.”

“Well...” He shrugged goofy grin back on his face. “If you insist.”

They shifted as best they could inside the small shelter, maneuvering so that one of his arms was under her- just above her shoulders- and the other was wrapped around her upper back as he held her tight. Her arm hooked around his neck, the other going to his lower back. They were even closer than before- something she didn’t think was possible. She could feel the heat from his body spread through her own and she wondered what it’d be like to get to sleep next to him every night.

Their gazes were fixed on each other, an unspoken tension between them. She was transfixed by his eyes, captivated in a way that she never wanted to be free from. The line between friends and more than that was there, so evident and begging to be crossed with one simple kiss. She could do it, she could kiss him and change their lives but a clap of thunder caused her to jump a little, effectively destroying her resolve.

Now just wasn’t the time. Instead, she ducked her head, resting it against his chest as he tucked her under his chin. His breathing was steady, peaceful, and combined with the rain and the warmth in her chest, she found herself growing tired.

“Good night Jules,” He whispered and she wanted to reply back but the next thing she knew she was fast asleep.

When she woke, she'd have a world of problems and emotions to sort through but for now, she was perfectly sleeping next to Shawn. It turned out, being held by him was so much better than anything she could dream of.

[dialux]

oh, how far you are from home

You know that I’ve got some nice inspiration for this, lmaoooo. Quick updates ftw!

Chapter 2: In which they reach Rivendell (as in canon), Boromir is irritating (as in canon), the Council convenes (as in canon), and Sansa finally has a breakdown (as not in canon)!

...

Uninteresting is definitely not what he’d call it. 

A sole man traveling the land is given little notice and a wide berth; a man traveling with his daughter- even if she’s young enough to have the coltish awkwardness of youth, Eru above- seems to draw more attention than Boromir’s entirely comfortable with.

Especially when he doesn’t have a horse, and cannot ride away quickly enough from them.

They stop at a few inns- more for Sansa’s comfort than his own- until she asks him if there’s no quicker path to Rivendell. 

“It cuts through the forest,” Boromir tells her. 

She fingers a strand of hair and lifts her chin to meet his gaze. “I’d rather return home,” says Sansa. “A few weeks in the forest would be worth it to go home quicker.”

“A forest is not anywhere near so comfortable as an inn,” Boromir says.

“No,” says Sansa. “But if lacking for that comfort is the price to be paid, I’ll pay it, my lord. I promise you’ll hear no complaints from my mouth.”

The next day, they cut into the forest instead of staying on the beaten path.

Only later does Boromir suspect that she’s seen his discomfort in the inns and taken steps to alleviate it. But then, they’d spent the time in towns telling everyone to call her his daughter, and that had been another measure of salt on her still-raw wound.

Boromir hears enough to know her reluctance well; they sleep in the same room, and though Sansa is perfectly courteous and calm enough during the day, she spends her nights sobbing and twisting in her dreams, making tiny sounds in the base of her throat that tear at Boromir and leave him sleepless on the cold ground.

No child should know that kind of pain.

She’s told him a little more of where she comes, and he’s stymied by it all. A kingdom as large as she speaks of should definitely be one he knows, but he’s never even heard whispers of it. Sansa doesn’t look addled, but she’s just lost her father; perhaps the grief has knocked something loose in her. Whatever it is, hopefully the elves will have a cure. 

Even if they don’t, she will be safe there. No king as evil as this Joffrey would be allowed within Elrond’s domain. 

If ever he has the chance to meet him... 

Well. 

Boromir is not a truly violent man. He wields his sword well- nay, better than well- but his captains and officers have never had to discipline him about overmuch enthusiasm in his actions either, as certain others have required. 

And yet, if Boromir meets Joffrey, he will not hesitate to strangle the king until his face turns blue. 

For all that she’s suffered, Sansa has remained a kind girl; unfailing in her kindnesses, and no matter how hard he pushes to reach Rivendell, she continues without protest. It must be difficult for her, for Boromir himself is exhausted by the time they rest- but she only retreats into herself and keeps walking.

A few days in, he hears her saying- chanting- something under her breath. It takes all his concentration to catch it, and when he does, something like shame rattles him: Sansa keeps whispering the names to her family, holding them close, like Boromir can remember he had done on his first campaign away from Minas Tirith.

“Tell me about them,” says Boromir finally, unable to take the silence between them. Sansa jerks, turning to look at him, and Boromir smiles a little, unbidden, at her astonishment. “You say I look like your- father. But you look nothing like me.”

“I take after my mother,” says Sansa slowly, jaw flexing as if disused. 

But she continues, and soon the words are coming easily, and she looks far more cheerful than she’d been just a few hours earlier. 

She’s a truly lovely girl in that sense- easy to get along with, intelligent, and funny when prodded at. Boromir laughs aloud for the first time since his dream of Isildur’s bane when she tells him about her brothers’ prank in their family’s crypts. Sansa’s eyes sparkle at that, and she keeps him supplied with such tales for long enough that Boromir calls for an early halt and collapses, sides aching with laughter.

“I’d like to meet them, I think,” he says, watching her duck her head, pleased. “All your brothers- and your sister- ah! Such rascals. Your parents must have been glad for you. A little peace in their lives.”

“What of you, Lord Boromir?” asks Sansa, gnawing on her lip. “Were your parents- did you make them worry?”

“I’ve only a brother,” says Boromir. He waves a hand. “He’s far the better child than I, though my father’s always found steel a better pursuit for his sons than books. My mother passed when Faramir was very young; if she’d lived, she might have allowed him to become a scholar. And worried more about me, of course.”

Sansa smiles, but it’s pale and shadowed. “I didn’t know your mother had-” she shakes her head. “My apologies, I-”

“It was a long time ago,” says Boromir firmly, and she falls silent, watching him with those blue eyes. They see everything, which Boromir hadn’t entirely expected from a girl of her age. But then again, few enough girls would have experienced as much as Sansa has. He finds his mouth opening, explaining things he has never wished to explain before. “The pain never leaves you, but it lessens. Like any wound: it will ache on rainy nights, or when you wish them most beside you. But there is a life beyond death, Lady Sansa.”

Her chin wobbles. “It doesn’t feel like it.”

“You are young. I was younger then than you are now- but old enough to know that my Ama would never return, and of an age to miss her terribly.” He clasps her shoulder and draws her into a loose embrace, because she looks miserable enough to warrant it, and promises, quietly, fiercely: “It will get better.”

...

They reach Rivendell soon enough- or at least Boromir doesn’t look irritated at any delays- and Sansa feels the difference when they enter the land.

“Yes,” says Boromir grimly, when he sees her eyes widen. “Elven magic. Be wary of them, Lady Sansa; they are not all as they appear, and can use words as prettily as any courtier.”

“What are elves?”

“Elves,” says Boromir, flat as unleavened bread. “The- the Immortal Ones. The first children of Eru.” Sansa shakes her head, still uncomprehending, and Boromir shakes his in response, as if in disbelief. “Your parents have kept you protected over-well.”

Have they? 

Sansa nods, but doesn’t say anything else; she has a feeling it’s more complicated than Boromir is making it out. 

“Anyhow. Keep your wits about you when speaking to them, lass. They are long-lived, and do not see the world as we do.”

“You don’t like them,” murmurs Sansa.

Boromir’s eyes cut to her. “They’ve left it to Gondor to defend against the south,” he says grimly. “Against the orcs and the darkness that lies there, there has been only one shield for the rest of the world, and that has been Gondor. Gondorian blood and Gondorian lives. But of course- elven lives matter more than men’s, and we must not quail from bitter truths.”

“But you’re still going to their home.”

“I had a dream.” Boromir tilts his head, staring into the distance. “The Stewards of old were prophets, and we have learned not to ignore such omens. When both Faramir and I dreamt of the same thing, we knew one of us had to come.” His face tightens, minutely. “I will get my answers from them, even if I must throttle one out of them.”

“I do not think throttling them will make them more likely to speak,” says Sansa, picking at the stitching on the side of her gown. She looks up through her lashes, but the tense anger on Boromir’s face doesn’t soften, and she continues, holding out a hand to the very air that feels golden and soft. “It feels beautiful, though.”

“Beautiful does not mean good,” Boromir says shortly.

Sansa remembers Joffrey and Cersei- how coldly, how cruelly they had decided to take her father’s head. She should have trusted Arya. She should have trusted her father. She should have learned her lessons already.

It’s fine, she reminds herself. I have Lord Boromir to warn me.

It’ll be enough. It will have to be enough. 

And hopefully this Lord Elrond will have the answers she’s looking for. Sansa can only hope that Boromir doesn’t know his geography- which is looking more and more unlikely as he tells her who he and his family are- or that Elrond knows something she does not. Otherwise, Sansa is lost: somehow, she is somewhere else, as in the stories of the fae. Only there is no fairy queen’s crown that she can steal to escape, and Sansa is all alone, is completely dependent on others.

Every time Boromir says something unthinkingly, assuming she’ll know, the knot in her belly twists deeper.

Still lost in thought, she almost flinches when Boromir’s hand comes down on her shoulder, and it’s only because of her trust in him that she doesn’t recoil when the elves spill out of- somewhere.

“Hail Boromir, son of Denethor,” says one of the- elves, it must be; for he is beautiful beyond imagining, with long, loose hair and eyes brighter than the stars, and ears that lengthen into sharp points at the very top. “Imladris welcomes you and your companion.”

“You have both mine and my ward’s gratitude,” says Boromir coolly, hand flexing on her shoulder before he lets go. “I’ve important matters to speak of with Lord Elrond.”

“The Lord Elrond is in private meeting with Mithrandir. Shall you partake in refreshment until then?”

“Very well,” says Boromir, and places a hand flat on her shoulder-blade, and propels her up the stairs without hesitance.

Sansa wants- 

She wants time.

One after another, the things are happening too quickly. And she cannot let herself think about any one thing too closely lest she miss what is going on in front of her.

Do what’s most important, she thinks.��Quickly, now, Sansa; you are the nimble one. If you are to be queen, you must be able to master things more difficult than this.

Little matter that she’ll likely never be a queen. Sansa was born to be one; she was raised to be one; it doesn’t matter if she has a crown on her brow or not.

So she listens, carefully, to what the steward is telling them. She doesn’t speak much, but when they enter what is- ostensibly- her room and Boromir turns to leave, Sansa cannot keep silent.

“Lord Boromir,” she calls, and he pauses, and she nearly shrinks into herself. “I- that is- is it possible to ask for a room near mine?”

Boromir turns and approaches her. Sansa lifts her gaze to his and has to fight not to gasp at the dearness of those features.

“Do you remember who I am, Lady Sansa?” he asks quietly.

“Y-yes.”

“Tell me.”

“Lord Boromir,” says Sansa, ruthlessly battling the tears down. She knows this, down deep in her heart. This man is not her father, no matter how much she might wish him to be. “Son of Gondor’s steward, Denethor.”

“I am not your father,” says Boromir, and it isn’t half cruel.

But you called me your ward!

A ward is no simple thing to name someone; it is an honor, done between the closest of friends, family, or to maintain relations between noble houses. Boromir hasn’t known her for very long at all. He isn’t gaining anything by naming her his, but he’s placed her under his protection anyhow. 

Unless such practices are different in this land.

The dread of that thought cuts through the hurt, enough that she can answer.

“I know that, my lord,” Sansa replies. “But this is all so- new. And different. I simply wanted... I thought it would be more comforting to have someone I knew around.”

The shadows in Boromir’s eyes lighten, just a little. “Yes, I can understand that,” he says, and steps away. “I shall try, my lady. Ready yourself; once refreshed, we shall speak to Lord Elrond.”

Sansa nods, clenching her jaw to keep from saying anything more. It’s only after he’s gone and she’s in the room alone that Sansa lets herself think.

There are elves here, and magic she does not understand. The stories that her parents had sung to her mention them, sometimes, but not tales such as these- of immortal beings, with pointed ears and skin so bright as to be luminous.

Tales that she does not know, and people she does not trust. 

Save for Boromir.

For now, Sansa tells herself, looking around the small, airy room. But I loved Cersei so well, and Joffrey even sweeter than that, and both of them repaid that with murder.

Boromir bears my father’s face, but he is not my father.

In that sense, his reminder had not been anything but a reminder; the truth, bitter though it was.

And Boromir had told her, hadn’t he: Sweet truths can be told often and well. But the mark of a good man is one who does not flinch from even the darkest and bitterest of truths- even in the darkest and bitterest of times. Unflinching we must be, if ever we wish to rule any men; and we must never lie to ourselves, even if we let the rest of the world repeat those lies.

They had been lying on grass, watching the stars, weary after long hours of trekking- and he’d said it half-asleep; Sansa had learned, over the weeks, that Boromir did not speak well unless he felt it necessary, or he felt that none would pay attention to his words. But his voice more than the words had softened her, soothed that little hollow in her chest that had felt brimming with tears.

There shall never be someone so stalwart in your defense as your own memory, he’d said, and then Sansa had fallen asleep, and could remember nothing more of any of it.

Sansa surrenders to the ministrations of an elf, who shows her a gown and how to clasp it about her shoulders, then the private bath they’ve drawn for Sansa. But then she leaves, and Sansa allows herself a moment to press her forehead against the soft wood of the mantel, lets the weariness and terror swamp over her for a long moment. 

She wants her mother. She wants her mother to hold her close and promise her safety, and she wants Robb to be there beside her, warm and laughing, and she wants her father, she wants Ned Stark, who would hug her easier than Boromir, who laughed less but did not stoop as much, who would tell her stories when the night turned dark, who was her father.

“One step in front of another,” she murmurs to herself. 

The voice- despite how quietly she’d said it- is too loud in the silence of the bathchamber, and echoes around the stone. It gives her courage enough to slip out of the gown and into the water, which is hot and turns her skin pink.

Remember your family, she thinks, and closes her eyes, leans into the steamy warmth. You owe them that much.

...

Boromir shaves his face and washes the grime from his hair and face, though he doesn’t dare enter the full bathtub the elves offer him. 

If there is time after meeting with Elrond- both for his own dream and for Sansa’s matter- then he shall relax into it. But he feels the prickling of their condescension and the distant, sun-hot rage of it still, and anger has always sharpened Boromir’s mind into something far more intelligent than when calm.

It slows the world down for him; it speeds his reactions up to others. 

Better to keep himself off-balance for the length of time that it takes to finish this conversation, and then to shut himself up for the night. He’ll need the rest if he’s to be ready for whatever the morrow brings.

But he feels more human, too, with the crusted mud flaked off and the itches of too long in one set of clothes diminished. And with that comfort comes the guilt: he’d been harsh with Sansa, far harsher than warranted. A reminder might well have been necessary, but the method of the reminder had not needed to be like that. 

So he breathes in, sharply, when he knocks on her door, the words heavy on his tongue.

Only to stutter to a halt when he sees Sansa.

She’s lovely, yes, but that’s not what makes him almost swallow his tongue; it’s the glow to her skin, and the height the elvish gown she wears lends her slender form, and the brilliance of her hair, freshly washed and braided over her shoulder. Even in the childish lines of her face, there is something there- an edge, a promise of something far beyond the simple girl he’d met in the woods. 

Numenorean, thinks Boromir, but it isn’t that, not truly. 

He has known many beautiful and regal women in his time. Perhaps it is just the gown, which is certainly royal in cut and cloth. Perhaps it reminds him of someone else- some queen of old- but Boromir would not know enough to name what he thinks now, not even with access to Gondor’s libraries. All he knows is that Sansa looks different- and there is something to that difference that makes worry clutch at his heart.

These are difficult times, Boromir reminds himself, offering Sansa an elbow. Look not for hope in people that cannot give it.

“My lady,” says Boromir slowly, pushing the rest of the thoughts out of his mind, “I owe you an apology.”

“An apology?” 

“For my words earlier.”

“Ah.” Sansa smiles up at him, and though it is but a glimmer of what he’s seen of joy on her face, it is a fair enough attempt at one. “No apologies are necessary, my lord. It- was a timely reminder. One that I needed.”

“Sansa-”

“Unflinching we must be,” she says quietly, and Boromir falls silent, struck.

He hadn’t thought she was paying attention then. It had been an arduous trek that day, through bogs and under an unseasonably hot sun; Boromir himself had been so tired that he’d been half-asleep, and any words he’d said had been only the teachings of his own youth drummed into him over long years.

“Aye,” he says, patting her arm. “But we can speak the truth kindly. Remember that, too- cruelty is the last path to walk, and only when all others have been exhausted, though it may be easier and simpler. I should have remembered that.” Boromir smiles wryly. “And so: my apologies.”

The smile she gives him larger this time, and brighter. “Accepted, then, my lord.”

“Hmm. Unflinching- that we must be, yes, but also: we must know our own minds, even when all say otherwise.” Boromir turns to Sansa. “When you go to speak to Lord Elrond, speak your mind, Sansa. Do not be afraid.”

She nods and straightens, a little, spine going stiff; despite her age, Sansa almost reaches his shoulder. Her head goes up, and her chin tilts back, and her eyes remain calm even when they leave her chambers for the rest of Rivendell. 

The ages of queens has faded, Boromir reminds himself, once, and twice, and thrice- the third when Elrond comes upon them, and pales, seeing Sansa with eyes too wide and too old.

...

Do not be afraid, Sansa reminds herself. I am a Stark of Winterfell, and my blood is of the North. 

But this elf-lord is frightening. He looks at her like she holds secrets he doesn’t understand, and she remembers how Boromir had looked at her upon seeing her in elven garments: stunned, and scared, and a little surprised, like he didn’t recognize her at all.

“I am Sansa of House Stark,” says Sansa, and sinks into a curtsy. She rises, and looks at Elrond, and lets herself smile at him, gracious as any queen. “You have my gratitude for your hospitality.”

Elrond nods at her gravely. “We are glad to have you here, Lady Sansa. Please- come. I believe we’ve much to speak of.”

Sansa sits at the wooden table he gestures to, and places her hands on the table, flat, wrists bent. Her head aches a little; she thinks she needs to sleep, and eat some food other than the things she and Boromir could forage on their travels, and then likely sleep some more. But she wants to meet her family first.

“Yes,” she says, focusing on that desire, letting it burn high in her chest. “My lord- I come from Winterfell. I wish to return there- I’d require nothing, I promise you, just a raven to there and then Robb will come. Or one of Robb’s men. But-”

“Peace,” says Elrond, holding up a hand. “Go slowly; where is this Winterfell?”

Sansa’s hands spasm, nails digging into the wood. She closes her eyes. 

So. She is somewhere else, then. Sothoryos? But no, she suspects that this is beyond even that. How could she have gotten from King’s Landing to Sothoryos, anyhow?

“In the North,” she says quietly, but the hope has drained from her voice, audible even to Sansa. “Near the White Knife. Its walls are of grey stone and the direwolf is my family’s symbol.” She breathes in, shallow. “Tell me, have you heard of Robert Baratheon? Perhaps- the Targaryens? House Lannister? Ned Stark?”

Her voice breaks awfully on the last name, and Sansa averts her face at it, wishing Elrond would look somewhere other than her eyes. She knows his answer, even when he doesn’t speak. It’s all but confirmed when she looks up at him.

“No,” says Elrond.

“No,” echoes Sansa, shaking her head. 

“Perhaps a book from my libraries can-”

“This is not a history to be written of,” Sansa flares. “It is my- it is my family’s life. What we have been born into. And I have seen your land’s maps. They are not my own.”

“Perhaps you were mistaken,” offers Boromir.

“I’m not,” says Sansa. She turns to Elrond. “You don’t know who I’m talking about, and Robert Baratheon is a king who overthrew another after three hundred years of that dynasty. My father is Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North- he stood by King Robert’s side for all those days of rebellion, and the Starks have held Winterfell for eight thousand years, and I am his eldest daughter, and I know what I speak of.”

She is standing. She is standing, and shouting at Lord Elrond, at Boromir- who has never been anything but kind to her. Sansa feels the flush of shame heat her cheeks. She turns away, staring out at the balcony and its gently swaying branches. She will not cry here. She will not.

“I believe you, Lady Sansa,” says Elrond, finally. 

Boromir places a hand on her shoulder, and Sansa turns back to them. 

“I know them,” she whispers.

“Yes,” says Elrond. “You do. I believe I know what you are- there are tales of you, or people like you, through history. Travelers that appear and disappear, without history or name unless offered some by people of our own world.”

“You know what I’m doing here?” Sansa asks, the hope swirling back up her so fast it almost leaves her dizzy.

“I’ve heard of others like you,” Elrond corrects. “Often, I’ve found that it’s because of a- trauma in your homeland. A healing is necessary before you can leave, and you shall stay here until that is achieved.”

Sansa doesn’t dare let her eyes flick to Boromir. She slumps into the chair instead. “What kind of a healing?”

“Did you bring anything with you? Of importance?”

“No,” says Sansa. “Just- my shoes, which I didn’t keep, and the gown I came here in which is more rags than cloth. Nothing else.”

Elrond frowns. “That does not make sense.”

“The lass lost her father and disappeared from her land in one stroke, and it does not make sense?” asks Boromir. 

���Twice before have I seen this. And both times, it simply needed the action of a material.” Elrond rises and returns with a book. “Yes- once, the person simply needed to be reunited with their material; in the second, the person needed to go to the ocean after reuniting with their material. But both people knew what they were missing as soon as they came here.”

“I don’t,” says Sansa, throat dry, the whiplash of the lost hope 

Elrond nods. “Perhaps there are things I am missing, Lady Sansa. A few days- I shall be able to help you once some other matters are taken care of.”

Sansa blinks, only for Boromir to speak before she can: “I would have your word to watch over her.”

“And you shall have it.” Elrond inclines his head. “Lady Sansa- you are welcome here for as long or as short it takes for you to find whatever you need. If you wish to become a ward of Rivendell as opposed to Boromir’s, that can be arranged.”

“Watch over me,” says Sansa slowly. She looks at Boromir. “You are planning to leave?”

Boromir tilts his head backwards, looking at Elrond. Whatever is in his face, Sansa cannot understand it, but Elrond does; he leaves, with a sweeping bow and a swift stride.

“I’ve a responsibility to Gondor,” Boromir tells her. “I must return there, and quickly; there is a shadow that grows from the south. They have need of me.”

Anger prickles over her arms, like sunshine on a hot day. Boromir won’t even look at her before handing her over to someone else, like some- some unwanted laundry!

“You’ve a responsibility to me, as well.”

“I am a soldier,” says Boromir wearily. “What would you have me do? You are safe in Rivendell; Lord Elrond shall keep you safe until you can go home.”

“And if I would wish to be with my own people?” Sansa folds her arms about her waist, chilled to the bone. I am alone, always and always. I was right before; I should not have trusted him. Not even with a portion of my heart. Just because he looks like Father does not mean... “You have not asked. Just- assumed. I thought- I thought- my happiness mattered here. That I wasn’t just- another prisoner-price exacted to keep people well-behaved.”

Boromir’s face turns taut, like a chain pulled tight. “I am not your father,” he grates. “You are my ward, and-”

“-believe me, my lord,” says Sansa, drawing all her anger and all her fear and all her loss into a flowing, twisting shield about her body, “I know you are not my father.”

My father would not have done this to me.

She turns and flees, and does not let the tears fall until she is certain that Boromir has not chased after her.

...

Boromir sighs. He feels old and weary when he sees Sansa; she is so sprightly and so fervent, her angers high and her despairs deep. When have the years passed him by? When did he become this- this creature, so weighted by expectation and duty that the bright star of youth only tends to weary him with its untempered brilliance?

But he must go to the Council, now, and await the answers of both Gandalf the Grey and Elrond. Hopefully with less obfuscation than he’s experienced over the morning.

(When he walks in- there are elves there, and dwarves, and a single man: a Ranger, scruffy-faced and shadow-eyed.

Very well then, thinks Boromir, son of Denethor, heir to Steward of Gondor, and straightens his broad shoulders, takes up this burden unasked for and unwanted, unhesitatingly. If I am to represent Men here, I shall do that as well, and do the task properly.)

...

“Why do you weep?”

Sansa looks up from her hands to see an elf. A she-elf, this time, with dark hair and pale eyes, in a simple gown made of rich material, as everyone seems to wear here. Her throat hurts; she wants nothing more than to be left alone. What can this elf know of Sansa’s loss?

“I’m sorry,” she says, instead of any other words, and rises to her feet, brushes off the dirt from her skirts. "I did not mean to intrude.”

“It was no intrusion,” says the elf, stepping forwards and putting a finger under Sansa’s chin, lifting it to her gaze. “But when young women weep in my garden- it would be remiss of me not to ask why.”

Sansa looks away. “I cannot,” she says, and it wrenches at something deep, deep inside of her. “I cannot go home.”

The elf seats herself next to Sansa and pats the stone, waiting patiently until Sansa sits down again. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she says softly. 

“Have you ever known pain like it before?” Sansa asks. She looks up, up, up: to the sky, scudded with white clouds and as beautiful as on the day of her father’s death. “I did not wish to come here. I have lost- everything, now; my father, my mother, my brothers and my sister. My sister- I don’t even know where she is! She ought to have been with me, and then she wasn’t, and now I don’t- I won’t- ever see them again.”

“Is that so? Has my father told you that?”

“Lord Elrond is your father?”

“Yes.”

“No,” admits Sansa. “But he has said that he has never seen anything like me here before. That with the others he’s seen, a healing was necessary, and an object to take them back; but I’ve nothing that I brought with me.”

“A healing,” says the elf thoughtfully. “Are you a healer, back in your home?”

“I am a lady,” says Sansa. 

“And a lady cannot be a healer?” The elf seems amused. “Tell that to Lady Galadriel of Lorien, or Luthien of old. And anyhow, healing takes many forms; as many forms as a wound can take. Wounds of flesh, or the heart, or the soul; wounds of a nation, of a family, of yourself. Take heart, little lady. Keep faith.” She turns, staring at the sky herself, and her long hair stirs in a wind that does not touch Sansa at all. “And remember: when all looks darkest, there shall be a dawn.”

“And if there isn’t a dawn after all? If it only gets darker, and darker, and darker still-”

“-then,” says the elf, gentle as a falling leaf, “it is not yet the darkest times yet, and there shall be a dawn to come.”

She rises and helps Sansa up, too, and smiles, plucking a leaf out of her hair. Sansa doesn’t recognize it; the leaf is narrow, with little golden veins that illuminate it from within. 

“These are dangerous times,” says the elf. “Dark times. I regret that you had to come now, when you are likely to see the worst of us.”

Sansa bows her head. “Dark times,” she echoes, slowly. “Why?”

“There is to be a Council,” says the elf. “One where the future of Middle-Earth shall be decided; attended by dwarves and elves and men alike. I believe your foster father is there now.”

Foster, Sansa reminds herself fiercely. Not father.

“It sounds- important.”

“And so it is. Do you wish to see?”

I want to sleep. I want to be held by my mother. I want-

But her desires have not mattered since leaving Winterfell. Not since Lady died. She has watched her father die and her sister disappear; she has watched her world be made anew. I must choose between comfort and curiosity, thinks Sansa, and closes her eyes, and opens them, and lets the part of her that still wants to weep shrink and shrivel within her chest. 

“Yes,” she says, and takes the elf’s hand.

...

The dread that curls over Boromir’s heart is nothing new. He has known it well; he has lain beside it, and fed it, and tended to it with the grim surety of a man who knows his actions are necessary. Such fear keeps men’s minds sharp and so has Boromir let it hone his own. But here do five stand: men and wizards and elves and dwarves alike, and of them all Boromir does not see the fear that sings in his own heart.

Only with true fear can a soldier know true courage.

The prickling in his mind, the weight across his lungs- he steps forwards, lets it carry him to the forefront of the rest of the Council, and only then does he speak.

“If this is, indeed, the will of the Council-” he breathes, in, out, watches the rest of them, “-then Gondor will see it done.”

“No,” he hears, through a small bush, and amid the clatter of other halflings- Valar, but they’re numerous; are they dividing before his eyes?- a pale, red-haired shadow lunges forwards and seizes him around the wrist.

“Sansa,” says Boromir, startled.

She glares back at him. “Mordor,” she bites out. “An evil ring- you cannot.”

“Someone must,” he says quietly. “There is no other. What are you-”

“Arwen,” says Elrond, exasperated, and a tall, black-haired woman steps out of the shadows from which Sansa had done just a few moments earlier. “I believed this to be a private Council.”

“Private indeed,” says Arwen, arching an eyebrow. “Nigh on twenty members of three races, with all of Imladris knowing what the topic of conversation is on.”

“She is a child.”

“Whose only link to this world has just volunteered for the most dangerous quest in all of Arda. She deserved to hear of it.”

“And I would have told her,” says Boromir. “Just-”

“-after the decision,” finishes Sansa tremulously. She shakes her head. “You cannot go. You must not go. You said it yourself- your people need you!”

“I can best serve them by delivering this ring.”

“I know what happens to men that walk into evil lairs,” whispers Sansa. “Please, my lord, please- that is not a fate I would wish on Joffrey himself, much less you!”

Boromir slowly extracts his wrist from her death grip. Places it on her shoulder. “I shall go,” he tells her, and watches Sansa’s face crumple in on itself like paper on flame. “I shall try to return, Lady Sansa. Until then, you shall be a ward of Lord Elrond- and safe, in Rivendell.”

Sansa backs away rapidly, pale as death; her gaze is on his face, but she is not seeing him. Boromir knows what she sees instead: her father. Her father’s execution, and the pain of everything that came after. He curses his features, holding out a hand to her, and Sansa shakes her head once, tears standing in her eyes like ground diamonds.

“I saw my father’s death once,” she whispers. “And I’ll see it again, and again, and again-”

She cries out and turns and, dodging those that try to capture her, flees. Arwen follows after throwing him a dirty look- apparently Boromir is to blame for simply telling the truth- and when Boromir looks around, everyone’s staring at him suspiciously save for Elrond, who looks utterly resigned.

As everyone is leaving- with the Council disbanded- Boromir walks up to Elrond.

“Tell me she doesn’t have the gift of foresight,” he says lowly.

“I did not believe she did,” says Elrond, just as quietly. “But now... her face... Be careful on this quest, my lord. Be very careful.”

...

Sansa watches Boromir from afar the rest of the day- he spars for some time with one of the elves, and though he is not so fast or so strong as the elf, he holds his own well enough; Boromir’s a fair swordsman, better by far than Sansa’s own father, and knows his own abilities well. Sansa takes heart in it. 

But this enemy is thick and swarming, with numbers enough to blot out the very sun.

And any man may be turned aside by an army, and there are things here that Sansa could never have imagined to exist in reality; dreams, the wildest tales of history, now breathing and ruining even the world of her songs with their cruelty. Things that are a thousand times larger than any man, no matter if that man is king of the Iron Throne or heir to the Steward of Gondor.

It had not been a prophecy that she spoke in the Council. 

But it had been a fear, now her deepest fear; to see Boromir’s head again, only this time detached from the body and sightless, long hair hanging limp about slack features. To see the blood run, thick and red, and be unable to stop it.

“Sansa,” she hears, and looks up, and sees- Arwen, yes, that had been what Lord Elrond had called her. 

Arwen, who kneels, and captures Sansa’s wrists, and draws her into an embrace so tight and warm and motherly that Sansa cries out, succumbing to the twisting grief in her chest.

“He’ll die,” she whispers.

“Have you seen it?”

“I don’t need to see something to know that he is a man alone among legends and myths,” cries Sansa. “A man bound by duty and honor- what nonsense! Why? Why? Why send me here, and bind me to him, only to lose him here, now- like this?”

“You haven’t seen anything,” cautions Arwen. “It is a- fear, yes, but-”

“I saw the way you looked at King Aragorn,” snaps Sansa. She feels the guilt of her words when Arwen pales a little at her words, but does not stop. “You don’t mean to tell me that you’re glad he’s going, too.”

Arwen shakes her head. “I am not. Only, I know that he shall not be turned from his path. My gladness does not mean that I’d keep him safe in Imladris; such a wish would turn him away from me, for I could not ask him to put my desires above his own.”

“His life matters as well,” Sansa tells her sharply. “And I am not like you- I’m not in love with Lord Boromir. All I know is that he has protected me, and cared for me, and treated me as well as my father ever treated me, and it would break my heart to see him dead in the same manner.”

“Oh, Sansa,” says Arwen sadly.

“Call it selfishness. Call it greed.” Sansa rises to her feet. “Call it what you wish. But I have seen what happens to good men in this world. And I’d not wish that death on Lord Boromir.”

Arwen looks at her, and her gaze is piercing; in that moment, for no longer than a heartbeat, moreso than Elrond’s. She is very beautiful, and likely has been alive for longer than the Red Keep has stood, and Sansa wants to shrink away, wants to cry at it.

She’s so tired. 

“Sink your roots into the rock and face the wind,” murmurs Arwen, “though it blow away all your leaves.” She bows her head. “You asked me if I could imagine leaving my home behind, Sansa, and I answer you now: if I wish to live with Aragorn, I must. I must choose mortality. I must choose to never see my father or brothers, and fade into the fabric of the world for the sake of the few years I would get with him.”

“Highborn women do not get to stay with their families in my land,” Sansa tells her quietly. “Once wed, we go to our husband’s homes; to their castles, to their realms. And it is... I loved the idea, when I first left my home. I still loved it. I loved it, right until Joffrey took my father’s head.”

“It does-” Arwen wrinkles her nose, “-sound like something to be endured.”

Sansa laughs, a little, despite herself. “But my mother loved my father, and they built a home in the North that they could both love. Queen Naerys and Aemon the Dragonknight- they never even got a home or family together, but they loved each other from afar.”

“Now that sounds like a tragedy.”

“It’s the romance of it,” Sansa tells her. She sighs a little. “The tragedy is in the ending, but the beginning and the middle... that was lovely.” She sneaks a look at Arwen. “You know, if you asked my mother- or Naerys- if they’d exchange another lifetime’s worth of time for none with my father or Aemon- I’m fairly certain they wouldn’t take your offer.”

Arwen lifts a brow, and she looks amused again, eyes aglow. “And what about you?”

Sansa traces the ground with the toe of her boot. “It depends on the man I’d wed, doesn’t it? If it were Joffrey- likely always. But with someone else? Someone kinder and better, good and sweet and strong and handsome? I don’t know why I would.”

“Well.” A smile still plays about the corners of Arwen’s mouth. “Are you still afraid for Lord Boromir’s future?” She doesn’t wait to hear Sansa’s answer, just continues on. “It will mean hard work for you- harder work than you’ve ever done before, and I will not be an easy mistress.”

I am a Stark of Winterfell, and I do not shrink from challenges.

“I don’t mind hard work,” says Sansa stoutly.

Arwen’s smile grows, to a grin bright enough to rival the sun. “Very well,” she says. “Let us keep this between us, then, Sansa. But take heart: this shall not be the last time you see Lord Boromir. That much I can assure you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You need not; not yet, at least.” She winks. “For that which you do not know cannot be revealed. Bid him goodbye tonight, when they leave. And keep your head tilted high, Lady Sansa of House Stark. Your tale of Middle-Earth shall not end in the safety of Imladris.”

...

Sansa approaches him in the evening. She is still pale and red-eyed, but her gaze is steady and her voice soft when she hands him a ribbon of silk.

“Be safe, my lord,” she tells him.

“I shall,” says Boromir, and embraces her, and Sansa returns it with enough warmth.

He does not ask her to stay safe as well, or to heed his orders. 

He does not even think on it. 

Boromir has heard his uncle Imrahil curse his daughter Lothiriel many times in his life; for all that she is a kind and good woman, there are times that Lothiriel can act without thought and bring down the best-laid plans, plans years in the making, within a scarce few moments. But Boromir doesn’t remember that then. He only smiles down at his ward, and thanks his stars that she’s proven to be so understanding.

Later, Boromir curses himself to be a fool.

[thethespacecoyote]

Did someone order more sad modern AU BenArmie? No? Too bad. 

Done for more Bad Things Happen Bingo! For “Hidden Scar” because that’s a whole load of angst fodder. Warning because this references some past and current abuse Armitage’s suffered thanks to his dad. 

Ben walks out of the bathroom, fresh from the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist, just in time to hear his phone vibrate against his desk. Puzzled, he steps over the backpack strewn across the floor and snatches it up, checking the illuminated screen to find a text from Armie.

>>> 10:47pm

are you awake?

It’s not too weird to hear from him this late at night, especially on a weekend. He and Armie text all the time, chatting about school or movies or nonsense, really. But it’s better than nothing, and Ben has few other friends he can talk with outside of classes and extracurriculars.

>>>10:48pm

sure am whats up

Ben cradles his phone in his palm as he sits on the bed, towel still draped over his thighs. The rain that’s been lashing his neighborhood all evening seems to have lessened to a trickle in the past hour, though the night outside still looks pretty cold and miserable.

His phone buzzes once more.

>>>10:48pm

would it be alright if i came over?

It’s not necessarily unusual for Armie to come over, even so late in the evening. Considering it’s the weekend, it’s even less strange, though usually they plan it out beforehand. Ben has nothing better to do, however, and having Armie over would certainly brighten a fairly dully and rainy night.

>>> 10:49pm

yeah sure lemme know when ur here

Ben tosses the phone back on the bed and rises, figuring he has a moment to get ready. He rummages through his chest of drawers for a pair of sweatpants, tying them low about his hips. His phone lights up with another notification, and he picks it back up.

>>>10:52pm

im outside. can i come up?

Outside? Already? Their houses were at least twenty minutes apart, and Armie didn’t even own a car. He had a bike but that wouldn’t shave off that much time. So how was he here?

Ben glances to his window, where droplets of water still cling and glimmer in the moonlight. At least it’d stopped raining. He hopes Armie hasn’t been waiting that long.

>>>10:53pm

one sec

Ben looks around his room, suddenly conscious of the mess. If he leaves things like this he won’t hear the end of it, so he scurries about, trying to do some last minute clean-up. He scrapes loose shirts and jeans and socks off the floor and stuffs them into the closet, before tossing couple old receipts and empty snack wrappers that’ve accumulated onto his desk into the garbage. He rolls his free weights towards the walls, getting them out of the way so Armie won’t trip on them.

Finally he pulls on a tank and hoodie, tousling his still wet hair as he heads out of his room and downstairs. He pads quietly through the house, knowing which floorboards to avoid, which doors to treat especially gently lest they creak. Both his parents should be sound asleep but it’s best not to take chances. He doesn’t want them sending Armie home if he’s already made the trip here.

He prowls to the front door and unlocks it as quietly as he can, peeking out onto the porch. The dim orange light just barely illuminates where Armie paces dully on the bottom steps with his arms wrapped tightly around his chest. He stops in his tracks and looks up when the door opens, hopping up onto the porch like a lost animal waiting for food.  

Ben thinks it’s weird he isn’t wearing a jacket, or really anything to protect him from the cold apart from a dark grey turtleneck. He can see Armie shivering, hair lightly dusted with dew, and wishes he’d brought one of his hoodies down to wrap around him. Good thing it’s warm inside the house.

“Hey.” Ben waves awkwardly, not sure what else to do with his hand. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to take so long.”

“S’okay,” Armie mumbles, arms squeezing tighter around himself. Ben stands aside to let him in, quickly closing the door behind them. His eyes fall to Armie’s back and thinks it might be good to put his hand there so he can guide his friend through the dark inside the house, but he stops himself and instead rubs the back of his neck.

“You alright?”

“Yeah. Just wanted to see you,” Armie admits, hunching his shoulders inwards as he adapts to the sudden warmth. “That’s fine, right?”

“Oh yeah. Just gonna have to explain to mom and dad in the morning.” Ben leads the way back to the staircase, stopping only briefly to nod towards the kitchen.

“You hungry or anything? We probably can’t turn on the stove or microwave without waking the parents but there’s probably some snacks or something. If you want.”

Armie shakes his head.

“No…can we just go up to your room?”

“Sure.” Ben’s still full from dinner anyway, he just wants to make sure Armie actually eats. He knows he has a tendency to skip meals for studying, or just because he forgets.

He hopes Armie won’t notice how messy his room is, as despite the earlier manic cleanup Ben knows it’s really not up to his friend’s standards. Armie’s space back at his house looks crisp and tidy, almost barely lived-in—a real contrast to Ben’s chaotic den, walled in by music posters and lit by only one lamp.

“You want me to turn something on? It’ll be fine as long as I keep the volume low.” Ben gropes for the remote on the desk when Armie hums in vague agreement, sinking down besides the other boy as he flicks on the television. Ben flips around until finding some older-looking movie he feels Armie might like. From the amount of gray men in suits that walk into frame it’s probably one of those political thriller films from the forties he’s always trying to get Ben to watch.

Well. No time like the present. Armie seems a little off, so hopefully this will cheer him up.

But when Ben looks over to him, he finds Armie’s not looking at the screen, eyes instead downcast upon where his hands fold in his lap. He hasn’t really reacted at all since sitting down, not to the television or Ben’s presence.

Concern worries in his stomach but Ben knows better not to pry when Armie’s shut off like this. They’ve been friends for years but he’s still pretty private, and tends to react fairly negatively when Ben tries to get past his walls. The only real fights they’ve ever had stemmed from that, so Ben’s learned to back off whenever Armie’s sending out serious “don’t talk to me” vibes.

Still, he can’t help but wonder where this all comes from. They’ve been friends for years but Ben doesn’t know all that much about his home life or what happened before he moved to town. Hell, Ben’s been to his house a handful of times and he’s still never met Armie’s stepmom nor any other member of his family apart from his dad

Ben’s not a fan of Brendol Hux, so he’s not quite complaining that he hardly gets a chance to visit Armie at home.

He leans back, propping himself up as he half-watches the roundtable of suits arguing on the television, wondering if he should say something but not sure what. Armie remains still, sitting on the edge of the bed with his fingers rubbing the hem of his sweater. But just as Ben opens his lips to break the silence Armie suddenly leans back and turns to rest his head against his shoulder.

Ben’s heart jumps in surprise at the sudden contact, expecting Armie to excuse this kind of intimacy like he usually does, but he stays quiet and only turns his nose against Ben’s shoulder, inhales like minute kisses against the fabric of his hoodie.

Ben watches, a little stunned. He’s never seen Armie this openly affectionate before. He’s pretty aloof about physical contact, though Ben’s got him to open up a little more in recent years. But definitely not enough for this degree of friendly cuddling. Or so he thought.

Ben wonders if something’s caused this change of heart—as well as the unexpected late night visit.

But he’s not exactly in the mood to rebuke it. Really Ben’s long pined for this kind of closeness with Armie, to fill in the last space missing in their friendship He tilts his chin down, watching the reflection of the television play across Armie’s pale skin. He can tell he’s still not watching the movie all that closely, but that hardly matters when they’re cuddled up like this.

Ben inhales slowly, careful not to disturb his resting friend too much, though the pounding of his heart might’ve already done so.

Wow. Armie’s hair smells nice. Ben hopes that’s not too weird to think that, as it’s just hard not to notice when he’s leaning against him. He turns his head slightly, inhaling the sweet scent and trying to figure out what exactly it is. Lemon, and maybe a hint of something more herbaceous.  

He doesn’t ask, honestly a little afraid to hear what Armie might say if he did. Instead, he just starts combing through his hair—at first just barely, his fingertips dipping through the feathery ginger locks like he’s afraid he might spook him. But Armie doesn’t pull away, or even comment on how Ben’s touching him. He doesn’t stiffen or twitch, only relaxing against him as Ben lightly skates his fingers against his scalp.

Soon he’s stroking through Armie’s hair properly, loving how soft it feels against his palm, how his friend almost melts against him. Just like a cat, Ben thinks with a smile, remembering the time they’d encountered a stray while walking home from school. It’d happened way back in middle school. Armie had convinced him to use his jacket to wrap up the poor thing once they’d coaxed her out from beneath a rain-soaked bush, insisting he couldn’t use his own blazer to keep the cat warm. Ben hadn’t complained, more amused by the stray’s orange coat and how closely it matched Armie’s fiery hair than upset about his sodden jacket.

He remembers they gave the cat away once she was nursed back to health. Armie had grown quite fond of her, but argued his father would never approve of a pet. Ben would’ve taken her if not for the fact that his dad already owned a dog that didn’t exactly get along well with other animals.

He knows Armie still wants a cat. Maybe someday when he moves out of his dad’s house he can have one.

Ben almost loses himself in the soothing brush of Armie’s hair. His fingers now thread at the locks close to the top of his head, properly petting him. Armie feels so loose and weightless against him, completely relaxed and trusting Ben as he touches him.

Elation fills his chest, and Ben can’t stop himself from smiling. It feels right to keep close to Armie like this, to comfort him through whatever’s going on, because something always seems to be going on with him. He wishes Armie would open up a little more sometimes and let Ben know what he’s feeling but this—this is good. This is a start.

Then his finger brushes against something strange on his friend’s scalp.

Ben pauses for a moment, fingertips feeling out the edge of something firm and raised out of Armie’s skin. But as he tries to touch more of it, lips parting in confusion, Armie tenses and jerks away from his shoulder. Ben catches a glimpse of his friend’s wide eyes and trembling lip before Armie pushes himself up off the bed. He clenches both his fists, voice hurried and wavering as he speaks.  

“I—I have to go, this was a mistake—“

Ben’s up in a flash, longer stride quickly putting him right up behind Armie, who’s trying to grasp the doorknob with shaky hands. He doesn’t quite get it turned before he’s pulling on it, jolting the door against the jamb andsending a shudder through the house that might wake up Ben’s parents. Fear jolts through the teen’s chest, and he reaches out.

“No, Armie, wait—“

Ben grabs his wrist and pulls without thinking. To his horror Armie reacts instantly, a muted cry ringing from his throat, like it’s hurt him. Ben instantly lets him go but instead of running away Armie shrinks down, arms wrapping back around his chest.

There’s some kind of shootout scene ringing on the television, the beginnings of climactic showdown between the enemy spy and the hero flashing across the carpet as Ben quickly kneels at Armie’s side, hands floating above his shoulders. He doesn’t know what to do, or whether the labored breathing wracking his friend’s body is all his fault.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Ben stammers out the apology, struggling to find the right words. “Did I hurt you? I didn’t mean to hurt you, I’m so s—“

“N-No, no. You didn’t. You don’t have to be…” Armie clears his throat, voice returning with just a shred more composure. “I’m sorry. That…that was uncalled for.”

He tries to sit up straight, expression sudden fallen with shame at the outburst. Ben can see the wear on his face with alarming clarity now. The sallow cheeks, the bruises under his eyes and—most alarming of all—a puffy  little cut on the slope below his chin.

“I really should leave. You’re not—you don’t have to deal with me.” Armie babbles as he turns away from Ben’s gaze. His fingers anxiously stroke through his hair, trying to push the mussed locks back into their usual place.

“Don’t, please.” Ben still hesitates placing his hand on Armie’s shoulder, or anywhere else, no matter how much he wants to.

“I shouldn’t have touched you there. I’m really sorry. I didn’t know…whatever it was…I didn’t know it would freak you out so much.” He doesn’t know if any of his apologies will help get Armie to believe him, but he doesn’t know what else to do.

Gradually, Armie sits back off his knees, though his arms stay guarded around his body. He rubs his hands along the bend of his elbows, like he’s still cold despite sitting in the musty warmth of the bedroom. Ben’s heart pangs as the fabric of Armie’s sweater pulls along the thinness of his limbs.  

“It’s okay…I didn’t even think about it…It felt so nice for you to…” Armie trails off into silence, letting his eyes flutter shut. Outside the rain has started, beating a soft tattoo against the house. The movie too has reached a lulling denouement, the sounds of polished professional voices fading as Ben focuses his full attention on Armie.

He doesn’t know what’ll happen now, what he should say or do. He realizes Armie probably wants to let it go, bury it away like he always does and never speak of it again. But Ben can’t stop thinking about that thing—that scar on his head, hidden under the beguiling locks of hair.

How long has it been there?

“I just—,“ he swallows past the tightness in his throat that’s grown in the silence, “—want to help you if I can. If you need to—I mean—”

“Ben.” Armie shakes his head with a dead chuckle. “You don’t want to know about what happens.”

“But I do. If you want to tell me I—I’ll listen.” Ben finally pushes past his own hangups and reaches out, resting his hand on his friend’s knee. “I promise.”

Armie leans back against the bedroom door, shoulders rising with a weighty breath. His lips tighten together, a last ditch effort to hold back what threatens to spill out of him. Ben scoots a little closer, palm rubbing down Armie’s thigh, hoping his presence is helpful.

“My—my father has this damned ring. From his military days. Big old gaudy thing.” Armie emphasizes the shape with his hand. “Engraved and solid. He likes to wear it on his forefinger, fidget it over the knuckle.”

Ben vaguely remembers something like that from the few times he’s encountered Brendol, though he never took much notice of the specifics. The man’s a arrogant windbag, dressed with like he thinks he’s some the last beacon of aristocracy in the modern day. Always looking down his nose at those around him, even his own son—like gaudy jewelry and a pompous attitude makes him the better man.

“Things weren’t great when I was younger,” Armie continues, voice just above a drone. “I mean, they’re not great n—well, they were worse back then, right after he married my stepmother. They fought a lot. Sometimes I got in the way.”

Ben’s stomach sinks, but he dare not stop Armie, even though he dreads where this is leading. He watches as his friend swallows harshly, expression trembling.  

“I don’t remember much of it, but I know that he hit me when I tried to get them to stop once. He got so angry he…punched me in the head.” Armie mimes the action with a numb fist. “Just…like he didn’t care what might happen to me after.”

Anger flares up inside Ben at the confirmation of his worst fears, calling all sorts of terrible images to the forefront of his mind. His Armie, just a kid, indifferently assaulted by his own father. He’s always found Brendol Hux unpleasant, the tension Ben senses between him and his son all but confirmed whenever Armie complains about him. But he would’ve never guessed that the animosity ran that horribly deep.  

Armie lifts his hand to the side of his head, where Ben had found the scar, fingers twitching as if afraid to touch it, as if it still hurts him.

“I needed stitches. I was only five, and I needed thirteen stitches for what he did to me,” Armie spits.

Ben feels sick with rage. He’d only felt the edge of the ragged skin, the healed-over evidence of Armie’s pain. It must extend even further along his scalp, an inescapable reminder of what his father did to him.

“And that wasn’t the first time he did it. Or—“ Armie’s chest hitches, fists clenching in his lap. “—or the last.”

He leans his head back against the bedroom door, finally looking Ben’s in the eyes. Despite his efforts to come his hair back earlier it’s fallen across his forehead once more, looking thin and lifeless.

“Ben, it’s—it’s never going to stop, is it?” Armies voice cracks out of the dull monotone, pain and frustration finally bleeding out as tears start to collect in his already reddened eyes. “If it hasn’t stopped by now, it’s not ever going to. Not until one us of dies.”

He palms his forehead, teeth gritting around his weak sobbing.

“I wish he was dead, why can’t he just die and leave me alone?” Armie gasps, his entire body shaking as tears crawl down his cheeks.

Ben’s never seen him cry, and it hurts. It’s not like that kind of healing crying, nor tears brought about by moments of great joy. It’s frustrated and crumbling Armie down right in front of him. It’s a cry for help.

In that moment Ben’s hands itch for a fight, for anything to help him deal with the sudden furious energy rolling through his body. He feels like he could scream and throw things, maybe even march to the Hux household through the rain and beat Brendol’s face in until the storm gutters ran with blood—

—but Armie needs him. He needs Ben’s comforting presence. Not his boundless anger, or his need for vengeance.

Those will come later, when they’re rested and clear-thinking and ready to make a plan.

“Hey, shh. C’mon, don’t cry.” Ben tries to keep his voice even, to push away the rage that bubbles up for his friend’s sake. “You’re going to be alright.”

Armie snorts through his tears, disbelieving, but Ben leans in and wraps his arms around him before he can protest. He holds him close, one hand around Armie’s waist with the other pressed against the back of his head, pulling him away from the door and letting him rest against his shoulder. Ben feels him sniffle, body shivering as it slowly relaxes in his grasp.

Armie’s so much slighter than him, less bulked out with brawn—but Ben suddenly feels he’s the strongest person he’s ever met.

“I…” Ben starts, his own voice feeling roughed and hard to command as it brushes against the side of Armie’s head. “…I’m really glad you. Y’know. Came here tonight.”

It feels like a lame, inadequate thing to say after Armie’s spilled his guts out to him, but Ben can’t think of anything else. He really is grateful that his friend is here, somewhere safe and away from the monster who calls himself his father. If Ben could, he’d keep Armie here for as long as he wanted to stay. He’d never have to go back to that house where Brendol could keep hurting him.

Armie sniffs, rubbing his face against Ben’s hoodie, before carefully pulling away. Despite the tears, he looks a little better now, even managing a weak smile that goes right to Ben’s heart. He wipes at his nose with his sleeve, letting out a soft sigh.

“I probably look a mess…sorry.”

“You really, really don’t have to apologize,” Ben stresses. “It’s late. And you look real good anyway.” Armie gives him a strange glance at the admission, but Ben quickly changes the subject.

“You wanna sleep in that,” he whispers as he rubs the shoulder of Armie’s sweater, “or do you need something else to change into?”

“Uh…I’m not sure any of your clothes would fit me…” Armie sniffs, even mustering a small laugh as he presumably envisions what Ben’s closet full of hoodies and baggy jeans might look like on him.

“Well you’ll just be sleeping in them, not going to meet the Queen for tea.” Ben affects a weak impression of Armie’s accent, hoping it’ll earn him more of that smile. It does get Ben a slight, amused eye-roll which is—all things considered—close enough.

“C’mon.” He helps Armie up off the floor, guiding him back to the bed to sit. “I’ll grab you something.”

Ben scrounges in his closet, finding a pair of pajama pants he’d gotten for one Christmas and never tried on, as well as the least worn of his collection of black graphic shirts. He gives it a quick sniff, before deciding it’s clean enough for Armie to wear and holds it out to him.

“Here.”

Armie takes the clothes with only a little bit of skepticism. Ben shrugs sheepishly, smoothing his hair back.

“They’re not that bad, right?”

“Someone needs to teach you how to do laundry one of these days,” Armie tsks, even as his fingers brush affectionately over the clothing. “It’s better than nothing,” he adds after a moment.

“That’s practically a compliment from you. Now go get changed before you fall asleep in your slacks.” Ben sends him off to the adjoining bathroom, before deciding to clean up the bed a little bit more. He pulls out a pillow wedged between the mattress and the wall, fluffing it up along with the rest before brushing the covers flat and grabbing an extra blanket folded up under the bed.  

By the time he’s finished things up the bathroom light clicks off behind him. Ben turns around to see Armie crouching in the doorway, gingerly setting his old clothes and damp loafers upon the floor before shuffling towards him.

Both the shirt and pajama pants hang off his skinny frame, making Armie look a lot smaller than he actually is and—honestly?—pretty adorable. Ben’s almost thankful for the dim light in his room, because otherwise Armie might see him blushing.

“Not half bad.” Ben nods his approval, patting the covers beside him. “This could be a new look for you. We could match.”

Armie rolls his eyes and comes to sit on the bed, the cuffs of the pants pooling over his bare feet.

“I wouldn’t dare. The world doesn’t need two Ben Solos on its hands.” He smirks, before reclining back against the bed. Armie stays that way for a couple moments, chest rising and falling gently with his breath, before pulling his legs up onto the bed and curling onto his side. His hair splays out slightly over Ben’s dark bedcovers, contrast making it more vibrant. He looks so soft, so vulnerable lying in Ben’s bed, and when Armie’s eyes lift up and lock with his he’s sure his blush could glow through even the deepest darkness.

Ben shuts off the television, now playing the end of the movie’s credits, before lying down besides the other boy. Ben faces him, only a moment of doubt flickering between them before he reaches out and pulls Armie in close. Ben would’ve never dared to hold him like this before tonight, too afraid of how his friend might respond—but it feels like their relationship has shifted a little bit, at least to warrant a deeper sort of intimacy. A crack in Armie’s hardened armor has opened, and Ben fits into it perfectly.

The rain continues outside, drawing glistening patterns against the window. It looks and sounds cold, and Ben wonders if it’ll continue into the next day or break once morning dawns, showing the sun through the clouds.

He nudges his nose into Armie’s hair, hand brushing over his back and feeling the slope of his body beneath his palm. He still smells of citrus and herbs, a bright aromatic spot in the dark musk of the bedroom. Even half-sleep and clad in Ben’s spare clothing, he brightens up the space between them.

Ben curls around his best friend, the person he cares most for in his life, slipping their legs together beneath the blankets. He feels he might be pushing his luck but he wants to be as close to Armie as possible, keeping him shielded and safe from everything out there that wants to hurt him.

It’s all Ben can do for now.

[talkthattae]

Rainy Days with BTS

Request(s)- “Do you mind doing what rainy days with BTS members would be like? Thank you🤗 “ 

“hi there! hopefully no one else suggested this but can you do a bts reaction of spending a rainy day together please! BTW I really love your fics!!”

masterlist

Seokjin

“Ugh” you complained as you stood up from the couch after you had paused the netflix show you and Jin were binging.

The sound of pitter patters could be heard against the windows. It was cold and rainy outside and the only thing you and Jin could think to do was to naturally, watch netflix.

“Wait! Y/N! You can’t just pause it at that part! I need to know what happens! Hello!” Jin protested.

“Can you wait like two seconds? I need more popcorn!” you replied back.

Jin sank into the couch and pouted like a three year old. You laughed to yourself as you watched your boyfriend’s behavior unfold.Once you had popped your popcorn and crawled your way back to the couch, Jin immediately pulled you back into his lap, also taking the popcorn out of your grasp.

“Come on! Press play!” he yelled as he started to stuff his face with the freshly popped popcorn.

After you got comfortable and situated in Jin’s cuddles, you pressed play. All that could be heard was the sound from your show, and the relaxing sound of rain.

Yoongi

You woke up to the sound of rain and thunder outside. You groaned to yourself. You had plans today. Plans that kinda depended on the weather being nice.

“What’s wrong?” Yoongi asked in a deep voice as he stirred awake and rubbed his eyes.

“It’s raining” you replied as you snuggled back into Yoongi’s chest.

Yoongi wrapped his arms around you. He rubbed his hand up and down your arm giving you goosebumps.

“I was supposed to go to the studio today but if you have to cancel your plans, I’ll stay home with you.” he suggested.

“I’m gonna cancel but you should still do to the studio. I don’t wanna stop you from working” you said.

“No, I wanna stay home with you more than I want to work. And plus, I still have equipment I can use to record here.” Yoongi replied back to you.

Suddenly Yoongi’s eyes went big and a smile spread across his face. He jumped out of bed before you could even ask what he was doing. He came back into the bedroom with his laptop and a mic.

“Will you sing for me?” Yoongi asked.

“Right now?” you asked, “Won’t you be able to hear the rain in the recording?”

“Yeah but, it might sound cool.” he replied back as he was setting up his little at home studio.

You two spent the rest of the day recording and singing together with the sound of the rain behind you.

Hoseok

“Please just this once?” Hobi pleaded.

You gave him a glare as you thought about giving into his begging. Did you really want to ruin the comfort you had found on the couch under a bunch of blankets with your boyfriend? No, but the puppy dog eyes he was giving you and that adorable pout that disrupted the smile on his face was more than enough to make you give in.

“Fine Hobi.” you said as you stood up from the couch and started walking to your front door.

“But once we come back in you have to make me hot chocolate” you negotiated.

Hobi jumped up from the couch and ran to the front door. He got to the door before you did.

“Anything for the love of my life” he said with a cheeky smile as he opened the door for you

You rolled your eyes as you walked out the door. Cold drops of rain meeting your once warm skin. Your clothes and hair were immediately sopping wet. Hobi walked up beside you and grabbed your hand, pulling you into the grass. He snaked his arms around your waist and your hands naturally wrapped around his neck. He started to lead a slow dance. You were mad that he made you come outside when the weather was so dreadful but somehow a smile formed upon your face as you saw how happy Hoseok was to be dancing with you in the rain. Hobi smiled back and pulled your body closer to his, and gave you a sweet, warming kiss.

Namjoon

“Wanna hear what I’ve been working on?” Namjoon asked you.

“Of course babe!” you replied back.

You and Namjoon had spent the day basically doing nothing but just enjoying eachothers company. Namjoon had been reading some books and writing songs lyrics. You had been scrolling through your phone and occasionally reading some of the lyrics Namjoon had written. He jumped up from the couch to go grab his phone. When he came back he started to play a song titled “forever rain”. You listened to the song closely and tears started to form in your eyes.

“Joonie, thi-this is amazing.” you said as the song came to a finish.

The mixture of the rain outside and the emotion he had put into this song was enough to just make you feel some type of way.

“I’m so proud of you.” you said was you caressed his face.

He wiped your tears away and gave you a kiss on the cheek.

“I haven’t let anyone listen to it but you.” he confessed.

“I can’t wait to hear the rest of it” you said as you smiled at him.

Jimin

“Let’s go for a walk” Jimin said randomly.

“Why would you want to do that when it’s raining cats and dogs outside?” you asked.

“We have umbrellas you know.”

“You’re insane Park Jimin” you said as you stood up, “but so am i, let’s go”

Jimin grabbed your hand and an umbrella and was out the door. You two found yourself in a city park. The umbrella barely did it’s job of protecting you two from the rain as you both were soaked. Jimin looked at you sympathetically. He started to look around from some shelter. The rain seemed to be pouring harder and harder every second. Finally he spotted a coffee shop. He pulled you in the direction of the coffee shop and you both started running. Once you were inside the warmth and smell of coffee grounds surrounded your body. You both sat down in the same booth. Jimin pulled your body close to his in hopes it would help warm you up but he was just as cold as you were. A worker came up to your table and took your orders. Once your drinks arrived and you felt the warmth fall down your throat, you were a little relieved.

“Park Jimin, if i get a cold because of you, you better take care of me” you said jokingly.

Jimin smiled and kissed the tip of your nose before he placed a kiss on your lips.

“Thanks for going on a walk with me even if you were miserable.” he said.

You couldn’t help but smile at how adorable he was.

Taehyung

You and Taehyung had been waiting so long for a rainy day. You both planned to drop everything the second it started to rain and go take pictures. You were both obsessed with how the water reflected things and thought it would be so fun to see what photos you could take. You walked hand and hand down a busy street trying to find something to take pictures of. It was dark out so all the lights were on. The water in the street reflected all different colors. You couldn’t wait to see how the pictures would turn out. Taehyung took hundreds of pictures of you dancing in the streets when no cars were coming. After you both had taken enough pictures, you both ended up just playing in the rain. You were running away from Tae as he chased you through a park. He eventually caught you and tackled you to the ground.

“Tae, mud” you said in a sad voice.

He just laughed at your cute tone of voice and pressed his lips to yours. While he kissed you, you grabbed a handful of mud and threw it onto his back. He flew up from pinning you to the ground.

“Hey! Not funny!” he yelled as you quickly got up off the ground and ran away from him again.

He laughed to himself before he stood up and ran towards you again.

Jungkook

“Baaabbe” jungkook cried.

“What?” you asked as you were scrolling through your phone.

“I’m bored” he said with a pout.

When you didn’t give him a reply he moved his body behind yours in the bed and snaked his hand around you and moved his warm hands under your shirt and rested them on your stomach. He nestled his head into the crook of your neck so he could see what you were doing on your phone.

“Can we watch youtube?” he asked.

You turned your head so you were face to face with him.

“You are worse than a child sometimes i swear” you said as you raised your head to meet your lips with his.

He smiled shyly. You rested your body back into its previous position against Jungkooks body. You clicked your youtube app and scrolled through your subscriptions until you found one that you knew both yourself and Jungkook would enjoy.

“I love you” Jungkook said softly into your ear.

“I love you more Kookie” you replied as you both started to focus on the youtube video playing on your phone.

[albionscastle]

Rainy Night

I am on a weird kind of roll right now. I blame it on the photoshoot posted the other day...you all know the one. Lowden in a jumper I mean......it’s like porn.

Anyway this is just a oneshot, a girl with a crush gets caught in the rain, queue knight in woolly jumper. 

FIC MASTERLIST

RAINY NIGHT

There were tears in your eyes as you gathered your things, waiting until you were sure that everyone else had left before you chanced opening the door. You didn’t want them to know that you had overheard them talking, not that it would matter in the slightest. In fact they would probably get even more pleasure from knowing that you had heard what was being said about you.

The lights were out down the hall and even your own people weren’t here this late. You could meander out, take your time and say your silent goodbyes. It was a shame, you thought sadly, you’d actually liked this job, even if it was only a temporary gig. Cutting it short a few weeks would hurt your bank account, but it would save your pride. Maybe.

You considered leaving your resignation on the counter, but no, your boss deserved more than that from you. You would show your face once more, tomorrow and hopefully have come up with a better excuse for quitting than ‘mean girls’ for leaving her in the lurch.

A noise startled you into jumping, spinning around with a yelp. The man standing in the doorway was the absolute last person on earth you wanted to see.

“Shit, sorry luv, didnae mean tae scare ye.”

Your heart was hammering in your chest as you levelled him with the blandest scare you could muster.

“I thought everyone had gone home for the night.” you managed to splutter.

“A few o us stayed back tae go over some lines.”

A few of us no doubt meaning his two co-stars, Tweedlebitch and Tweedlebitchier, the gossips who apparently lived just to make others miserable.

“Anyways,” Jack stepped further into the kitchen, his head tilted, frowning as he looked at you. “I came tae see if I could steal a piece o cake from the fridge. I didnae realize ye were still here.”

You’d had a feeling that he was the one who’d been doing just that, pretty much every day. Any other time it would have amused you to no end, catching him out like this.

“It’s on the third shelf.” you murmured instead, turning away and pretending to rifle through a folder. “Are ye ok lass?” his voice seemed closer and you took a deep breath to hold back your tears.

“I’m fine, long day.” you ground out, refusing turn around.

No way was anyone going to see you cry, least of all him.

His hand came to rest on your shoulder, just as it had a dozen times before. This time you shrugged him off roughly, still refusing to turn around, tears pricking at your eyes.

“Ya can talk tae me if ye need lass.”

You couldn’t help but hear the hurt in his voice which made you feel even worse. What was  happening to you wasn’t his fault, he’d done nothing but be friendly.

“I’m just really tired,” and this was the last time you would ever see him, “I’ll be fine, I promise.” Not a chance, but he didn’t need to know that.

You held your breath until you were sure that he was gone, waiting even a few minutes after that to pull your shit together. Not a chance you were going to tell him what had upset you, he would know tomorrow anyway, rumors had a way of spreading fast. At least you wouldn’t be around to see his reaction when he realised the truth to it.

Your car was parked almost half a mile away and the walk in the chilly autumn air gave you time to think about what you’d heard. Jack’s co-stars also happened to be two of the most stunning women in the world. Playing sisters, they were both young, tall, blonde and perfect. They were also two of the rudest people you’d ever had the misfortune to deal with, and you’d been in customer service for years. From day one they’d fixated on you, the most inexperienced of the catering team, but it had mostly been stupid shit. The usual demands and complaints of the entitled. If you were honest,  you’d enjoyed the looks on their faces every time that you’d been able to say no to them.

Jack, on the other hand had been a delight, charming everyone with his warmth and humor. The man had made the catering area his second home and there wasn’t a day that he was on set that he couldn’t be found there, usually begging for cake. He’d just been friendly, and since you did the baking, it was usually you that he was trying to charm.

It wasn’t his fault that you’d developed a huge crush, who wouldn’t? Even your boss, a robust matron, happily married with grandkids, sighed dreamily whenever Jack was around. You’d done a pretty damn good job of hiding your feelings, or so you’d thought until tonight. You shivered in the cool air, wrapping your arms around yourself as you trudged through the gravel, remembering what you overheard. You’d been cleaning up after a service, alone in the room when you’d heard them tittering, not realising you were still there.

‘Poor Jack,” Sonia, the eldest of the two, “I don’t know how he puts up with it, every day.”

The other one had murmured in agreement and your ‘spidey senses’ started tingling.

“I mean it’s just pathetic the way she moons over him when it’s so obvious to everyone, no shame whatsoever.”

“She’s totally clueless, and Jack tries so hard to be nice, it must be exhausting.”

You had frozen, white hot dread washing over you as they continued.

“Why she thinks he would even look at her is beyond me, not with the size of her ass.” Sonia giggled.

Your face had burned.

“Everyone is starting to notice, the silly cow is only going to be a laughing stock if she keeps this up. I mean, she makes those cakes every day just like she’s his mother.”

“She’s too ugly to even be a mother, who’d want to sleep with that?”

They’d dissolved into laughter as they left the room and you’d finished out the rest of the day in some kind of numb shock. You refused to leave the kitchen again, putting yourself on the much loathed dish duty until everyone left you alone.

You were so humiliated.

That it was apparently so obvious you had a thing for Jack was sickening, especially when you’d worked so hard to act normal around him. It was awful knowing that everyone knew, even worse, to feel like he’d just been taking pity on you this whole time.

In fact that was probably the worst part, if you were honest. You would never be able to face him again if all he felt was pity for the poor little fat girl with a hopeless crush, and you didn’t want him to be embarrassed. Jack had been so kind to you and the least that you could do was not put him in this position. It was better for him too if you just disappeared. Your heart would get over it soon enough. You hoped.

By the time you reached your car you were freezing and dying for the hoodie that you’d foolishly left on the front seat along with…..

“Son of a bitch!”

Your car keys at on top of your sweater, glinting mockingly at you through the locked door. Rummaging through your purse you looked for your phone, even though calling the lock out service at 8:30pm on a Sunday would take hours and cost a week’s pay if you were lucky. The memory of stuffing it in the front pocket of your sweater came at the exact moment you realised it wasn’t in your bag.

“Seriously!?” you yelled at the Universe. “What the fuck else could go wrong?!”

The Universe responded with a cold, fat raindrop hitting you in the nose, swiftly accompanied by several million of his closest friends. Within seconds you were soaked through, shivering and glad the rain was hiding the tears that ran down your cheeks. If you started walking now you might be able to hail a cab in town, in about an hour. Until then you were on your own, cold, wet and crying your way into a hysterical pity party.

At least your purse was waterproof.

So caught up were you in your misery that you missed the headlights coming toward you until the last minute, groaning when you recognized the vehicle.

Of course it was Jack, who else would just happen along at your worst moment? The Universe was officially a bitch.

“Y/N?” the passenger side window rolled down while Jack leaned over looking dry, warm and concerned.

“I’m fine Jack. I’m waiting for the lockout service.” you tried to smile, as if all was well, knowing you looked like a drowned rat.

Jack’s eyes narrowed.

“Bullocks Y/N, get in the car. I’m no leavin ye like this.”

“Really Jack, I’m fine.” you jumped at a loud clap of thunder, and then you saw the look on his face.

He wasn’t buying it, you could see his jaw twitching.

“Get in the car Y/N, before I throw ye over me shoulder an force ye in.”

His voice said it all, he was livid. You blinked once, trying to decide if he meant it. The look in his eyes said it all and you sighed before stepping over to the door and pulling it open.

“It’s too wet Jack, I’ll just ruin your seats.”

He stared at you, then undid his belt, hand on his door to open it. With a squeak you jumped inside, squishing into the seat and hanging your head.

“The fuck were ye thinkin stayin oot in the rain in this cold, are ye daft?”

He fiddled with the heat while he ranted at you, turning it on full blast and aiming all the vents at you. You couldn’t even answer, your teeth were chattering so much.

“Ye’re turnin blue woman!”

From the corner of your eye you saw him shrug out of his woollen jumper and holding it out to you.

“Put it on before ye freeze tae death.”

You looked at the jumper like it was offensive, it was bad enough that you were dripping all over his car. This was. No.

“I’ll be fine till I get home.” you managed through clenched teeth, hoping he wouldn’t notice you shaking.

He simply sat, brows raised until you sighed and took it from him. Aware you were acting like a spoiled child you started to pull it on.

“Is no goin tae do ye any good if ye donnae take off tha wet shirt first ye numpty.”

No way. There was not a chance in hell you were going to take off your shirt in front of him. Even if he did have a very valid point, damn him. Jack, naturally noticed your hesitation. “I’ll close me eyes an turn away if tha helps.” he shrugged, doing just that. “Is no like there’s anythin left tae hide anyway.” he muttered.

You looked down at yourself and groaned loudly, realising your white shirt was completely translucent. Jack chuckled under his breath as you quickly peeled it off, your soaked bra doing almost nothing to cover you in the cold. The heat of embarrassment flooded through you and you pulled on his jumper, wishing you could literally be anywhere than with him right now. Tears filled your eyes again as the warmth from his body and the smell of him eveloped you. He was by far the nicest man you’d ever met and, as usual, you’d managed to make an arse of yourself around him. You knew what you were, and what people thought of you, especially men. That Jack now had a taste of how unattractive you were underneath your clothing was just humiliating. You could only hope that he didn’t think any of this had been a lame attempt to lure him in.

“Where’s home luv?” Jack finally spoke up, looking at you as you slowly stopped shivering.

“Just take me to the nearest hotel.”

“House keys too huh?”

“Yup, when I decide to fuck up I like to make sure that it’s a complete disaster.”

Jack laughed, pulling the car onto the road.

“Ah’ve seen worse, fuck in school I did worse. Donnae sweat it yeah.”

“Easy for you to say.” you muttered under your breath.

“Seriously lass, we’ve all had shite happen, ye canna let it derail ye.”

Too late, you thought bitterly, watching the landscape through the rain. If it had just been the keys it would have been a completely different kettle of fish.

“There’s a Holiday Inn up there.” you responded instead, seeing the lights up ahead.

“Aye, I see it.” Jack murmured, completely missing the exit. “I’m no leavin ye at a strange place wi no phone and no clothes.”

“It’s a motel Jack, not a crackhouse.”

“Doesna matter, I’m no goin tae leave ye stranded like tha. Ye can stay at my place and we’ll call the lockout in the morning.”

The tone of his broked no opposition and inside you panicked, even though you simply nodded tightly. You were swiftly learning that there was no arguing with this man. Instead you spent the rest of the drive in silence, squishing uncomfortably in your wet jeans and feeling more guilty with every passing minute.

“Shite! I didna even think tae ask if ye needed tae call anyone tae let them know ye won’t be home.”

“Like who?” you laughed.

“I dunno, yer man mebe.” Jack shrugged, turning to look at you as you burst out laughing.

“Yeah ok Jack, funny. Do you think if I had a boyfriend I would have asked you to drive me to a motel?”

“Well, no, but still I didna wan tae step on any toes.”

“Fat chance of that.” you muttered, looking out the window again.

There hadn’t been a boyfriend in….well ever if you were honest. Of course there had been a couple of...you didn’t even know what to call them, but you’d learned early on that they weren’t boyfriends, no matter how much you’d hoped otherwise. You had come to terms with it long ago.

Of course Jack didn’t know that, but since you’d apparently been so obviously fawning all over him it should have been quite apparent.

“Why do ye say it like tha?” Jack sighed, pulling into a small parking garage.

“Huh?”

“Nevermind. Home sweet home!”

You followed Jack to the lift, cringing at the squeaky, wet noises you made as you walked and the mess you were inevitably leaving in your wake. Jack stopped in front of his door, opening it to step inside and turn on a light. One look at the immaculate and shiny hardwood floor had you hesitating. “Come on in lass, I promise ye is no a trap, unless ye wan tae be my prisoner. In which case the cuffs are in the bedside drawer.” he said with a wink that stopped you in your tracks.

You knew it was a joke, deep down, but a part of you still jumped in excitement at the subtle flirt. Just as it always did when Jack flirted, which was pretty much any time he opened his mouth. On a better day you would have countered him with a preference for scarves, but not now. Not knowing that he would probably think you were really flirting with him. Your bantering had taken on a whole new meaning now.

Offering him a weak smile instead, you stepped into his flat, closing the door behind you and standing there in your puddle. You watched as Jack walked around, gathering some things from the dryer and moving them to the bathroom.

“Go take a shower luv, there’s dry clothes fer ye and I’ll throw yer wet ones in the wash.”

The thought of hot steam and warm clothes was too strong to offer him any resistance and you soon found yourself standing under the hot water trying to figure out exactly how you’d managed to end up here. The events of the day seemed so far away, almost as if they didn’t happen. It  was only when you had dried yourself and reached for something to wear that it all hit home for you again. Even fresh from the wash, Jack’s clothes smelled like him and despite your extra pounds, they somehow still hung on you. The flannel pants were too long and you had to roll the waistband until they barely perched on your hips. Same deal with the jumper he’d given you. He’d also given you a t-shirt and you probably would have been warm enough with it alone but that did not fit well enough across your chest for comfort. No way were you going out there in that with no bra on.

Eventually you gathered the courage to exit the bathroom, wet clothes balled up in your hands.

“And she lives!” Jack was grinning at you like a loon from the kitchen. “Let me take those fer ye.”

Before you could refuse, he’d lifted your clothes from your hands, shaking them into the washing machine. Your cheeks felt hot when you saw your underthings in his long fingers, and not just because you’d been wearing what you called your ‘utility’ bra. Any underthings able to keep your ‘assets’ in check seemed to lack any kind of feminine embellishment.

Boring and uninspired and not even close to being sexy. Just like you.

It seemed that Jack’s flat was much like him, attractive but unassuming, warm, inviting and comfortable. Despite yourself it was easy to relax into the soft couch and eat heartily when he brought you a sandwich. Jack hunted for something to watch, settling on some dancing reality show, while you gradually felt more comfortable. It seemed he wasn’t aware of the rumors and since you were still determined to walk away, you decided to enjoy this while you could.

“Why��d ye let those two cows upset ye so much?” he spoke suddenly, causing you to choke on your food in shock.

His hand thumped your back a few times while you coughed and sputtered trying to catch your breath again.

“What are you talking about?” you managed between coughs, aware that his hand was now rubbing your back gently.

“Don try tae act like ye donna know, Y/N. Ye weren’t the only one in the room.”

Oh. Holy. Fuck.

“Who else heard?” you whispered, trying to physically curl up into yourself, anything to escape.

“Jus me, no one else. I didnae hear all of it, but I heard enough. They knew ye were there.”

“Of course they did.” you muttered. “I’m not stupid.”

“Aye, but ye are a bit daft luv. Ye canna let them get tae ye like that.”

“Easy for you to say Jack.” Suddenly you were angry at them, at yourself and at him, how could he just brush it all off like that?

“Did it ever occur tae ye tha they only said any of it tae upset ye? They’re just jealous.”

You scoffed, knowing it was all true.

“What reason would they have to be jealous of my fat arse? Get into the real world Jack.”

“Why do ye talk about yourself like tha?”

“Like what? I have a fat arse, it’s not like anyone can miss it.”

“I’ve spent enough time looking at yer arse tae know it’s perfect just the way it is.” That stopped you. Staring at him wordlessly you saw him shrug matter of factly.

“Tansy is jealous because she’s built like a piece o wood, and Sonia? Suffice tae say she’s a right bitch when she doesna get what she wants.”

“What?” you swallowed hard, still stunned by his bald statement about your rear end. “What didn’t she get?”

“Me, lass.”

“Why would, what, I’m confused.”

Jack laughed, his hand moving to tousle your hair before standing.

“Let me get us a drink an I’ll tell ye the whole sordid tale.”

He came back to the couch with a couple of beers, waiting until he’d taken a few gulps before he spoke.

“Now then, where were we?”

“Sordid tale.”

“Righ, ok so ye remember the first day on set yeah? All the introductions an the like?”

“Vaguely, the catering staff weren’t really a big part of that.”

“But I met ye tha day, remember? I kept buggin ye fer another piece o cake.”

“I seem to remember being following around by a child whining about thirds.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed at your small smirk.

“Yer cruel lass, tha day too. Ye told me I needed tae watch my figure.”

“Eh, I vaguely remember something of the sort.” you shrugged, enjoying his small chuckle against the bottle at his lips.

“Anyway, I took my poor, bruised ego off tae my trailer tae get settled an it turned oot I wasna alone.”

Your eyes widened.

“Sonia had managed tae get in an was jus sittin there in heels, ye ken?”

Oh you kenned, the thought of it made you cringe.

“What did you do?” Did you even really want to know.

“I told her tae get dressed and leave, tha I wasnae interested. Believe me when I say she didna take it well.”

You just stared at him blankly.

“Well first she tried tae change my mind, an well,” his cheeks reddened, “when she couldna get a…..rise, she left me alone.”

Awkward.

“But I don’t understand what her striking out with you has to do with me.”

Jack looked at you, confusion evident on his face.

“Wow, ye really don’t do ye?”

“Perhaps someone should explain it to me?” you ground out.

“First, tell me summan. Is there any truth tae what they said?”

“Which part?” you squeaked, gulping down your beer, hoping to avoid the question.

“The part where ye haf a thing fer me.”

Please, you thought, please just let the ground open up and swallow me up. Right now. Please.

You sputtered rather than answering, eyes darting around the room, looking anywhere but at him. For a second you actually thought about denying it, but really, what was the point? He already knew, everyone already knew and it wasn’t going to make things any better if you denied it.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath you met his gaze, shoulders slumping in defeat.

“I’m sorry.” you whispered. “I thought I was doing a better job of hiding it. I never meant to make you feel uncomfortable.”

And if you could just be struck by lightning right now and put out of your misery that would be great, you thought as Jack remained silent.

“You don’t have to worry about it. I won’t be back on set. I’m resigning. It was never my intention to cause this much drama.”

“Are ye oot of yer mind woman! Why would ye do tha? Can ye no think fer one second why Sonia would focus on ye like this?”

You were so startled by the harshness of his tone that you didn’t know what to say.

“It’s ye she’s jealous of.”

The laugh you emitted was sharp even to your ears, but you couldn’t help yourself.

“She’s got absolutely no reason to be jealous of me, Jack.”

Jack sighed, putting down his beer before wiping his hands on his jeans.

“She’s go every reason tae be jealous o ye Y/N. Ye’re smart, talented, kind, funny, lovely and, well hot.”

Your head spun toward him, not believing your own ears. Jack turned, inching closer on the couch, his hand reaching out to brush damp hair away from your face.

“But the number one reason why she singled ye out Y/N is because it’s you I want, no her.”

Your heart beat erratically in your throat, eyes wide in disbelief as Jack’s fingers traced along your jaw. You shivered as he touched you, your fingers twisting in the wool of your jumper. This had to be some kind of mad hallucination, probably brought on by hypothermia. Ten to one you were laying in a rainy ditch somewhere this whole time.

Jack’s eyes caught yours, bright blue and intense as he tilted his head toward you. Keeping his eyes on yours his lips brushed against the corner of your mouth, the rough bristles of his beard scraping against your tender skin. He smiled against you, your eyes finally fluttering shut as his mouth pressed firmly against yours. His hands cupped your cheeks, tongue taking advantage of your gasp to snake across your teeth and into your mouth. An arrow shot of heat travelled down your spine, stabbing into your lower belly. You shuddered, hearing him chuckle as he broke away.

“If tha doesna make ye understand then nothin will.”

You opened your eyes to the sight of him in front of you, his cheeks flushed pink, lips slightly swollen and damp, his eyes both soft and wanted. He was right, you were convinced, even if you didn’t understand why. You felt a surge of confidence, a lightness unlike any you’d felt before and your lips spread into a smile. Your usual good humor had returned.

“I’m not sure I’m there yet, I’m super hard to convince.”

“Is tha so lass?” Jack’s gaze turned positively wicked. “Lets see what I can do about that shall we?”

You yelped as he moved lightning, dragging your body to straddle his lap. He looked up you now, fingers threading through your hair before sliding down your back to your waist.

“Remember when I said tha Sonia couldna get a raise?”

“Mmmm hmmm.” you murmured, your fingertips exploring his face.

His palms slid down over your rear and for a moment you felt self conscious, until he caught your eye and you saw the heat there. With a grin he pressed you closer until, with a gasp you were pressed up against him completely, the hard length of him between your thighs.

“As ye can tell I donae haf tha problem wi ye. In fact, half the time it’s all I can do tae hide this.”

He swiveled his hips against you, his lips and tongue smothering your moan as his hardness rubbed against your aching center. The kiss grew rough as you rocked against him, fingers tugging at his hair, his hands guiding you into a rhythm that had you panting into one another’s mouths. Jack’s hand slid up under your jumper, breaking the kiss long enough to yank it off over your head before returning to bite at your mouth and jaw. The pressure between your legs was almost unbearable, the layers of clothing failing to provide the friction you needed.

Desperate for breath you broke away, chest heaving as you dragged air into your lungs.

“Fuck love, ye are incredible.” Jack growled, staring at where the thin cotton of his shirt strained over your breasts. Another body part that you were particularly sensitive about and Jack noticed. He liked his lips, mouth open as he continued to stare, raising a hand to palm your breast, his thumb stroking your nipple to life. You sucked in a breath, your hips grinding against him as he ran both hands over you, scraping and pinching, every touch a dart of want into your belly.

“Jack!” you hissed, his teeth scraping you through the fabric.

“Ye haf no idea how much I’ve wanted ye, luv.” he muttered. “I know ye didna know it, but every time I saw ye I had tae try so hard tae hide it. I dreamed of touching ye here…” His hand cupped your breast gently.”....every where Y/N, I’ve dreamed o touchin ye everywhere.”

A brief and unwelcome thought flashed into your mind, was he just the same as the rest of them? Only interested in one thing from you? Jack must have seen it in your eyes because he stopped everything, his knuckles stroking your cheek.

“I’m mad fer ye darlin, and it’s no jus fer this. I need ye tae know tha, I didna intend fer this tae happen. I was actually working up the courage tae ask ye out tonight, till those two bitches fucked that up. Nothin is going tae happen tonight…” Jack smiled ruefully. “..well nothin more than this. I wan tae at least go tae dinner a few times before we jump intae bed. I’m pretty sure that neither one o us  are lookin fer a one-time or casual thing.”

“Right.”

“Obviously, when the time is right….” his eyes swept hotly over you. “You and me are goin tae be dynamite.”

“You seem pretty sure of yourself.” you arched a brow at his smug grin.

Which quickly turned into a look of panic.

“I mean….if ye wan tae go out wi me tha is….”he stammered for a moment.

“I meant about us being dynamite you goob.” “Ohhhhhhh.” he looked abashed for a second before his eyes glinted wickedly again. “I can give ye a preview if ye wan.”

You leaned down, your nose brushing against his.

“I wan.” you whispered, mimicking his accent. “Then we can talk about dinner.”

He sucked in his breath with a hiss as your teeth bit at his neck.

“Ye’re goin tae be the death o me aren’t ye lass?”

“I’m going to try very hard.”

“Speakin o hard.” his mouth was hot against your ear as he grabbed your hand from his hair, guiding until your palm rested against his length.

“I would say that qualifies.” you agreed, tentatively squeezing him through his jeans, just enough for him to throw his head back and moan.

His hips bucked under your hand, thighs shaking beneath yours. Every slide of your hand gave rise to a new noise ripped from his throat. The sight of him below you, his teeth biting his lip, fingers gripping your hips as he jerked and sighed was almost enough to finish you off. You wanted his mouth again, brushing your lips over his until he pressed back. His head surged forward, one hand cupping the back of your head as he almost devoured you. His other hand slid over the front of you, his fingers dipping just under the rolled waistband of your pants.

Jack’s mouth left yours long enough to mutter, “Jus a preview, right?”

He waited for your nod before kissing you again, his hand moving to cup between your thighs, his fingers rubbing gently along the center of you. Your cry was swallowed by his tongue, his hips grinding against your hand. You could feel him throbbing through his jeans, the knowledge that it was your touch getting him off pushing you almost to the edge. His fingers moved against you, your hips rolling against them until they were exactly where you needed them.

Your whole body shuddered as your movements feel into matching rhythms, his fingers, your hand, your hips all moving perfectly. So close, you were so close and you couldn’t breathe, your head falling to rest on his shoulder. His ragged breath was hot in your ear, his free hand tangling in the hair at the back of your head, yanking your head back so he could run his tongue up the front of your neck. “Now imagine mah mouth instead of mah hand, or both,” he gritted his teeth as your nails scraped over him through his jeans in response. “I’m good wi both.”

His toungue flicked out against your mouth as his fingers dipped and stroked the center of you. I was almost enough, and yet you still wanted so much more. You whimpered, hips rolling against his hand, feeling him twitch under your fingers.

“Look at me.” he said roughly, tugging your hair until you met his eyes. “I wan tae see yer face when I make ye come.”

Your body jerked, the heat in your belly boiling as you felt the telltale ripple inside you.

“Yes, jus like tha darling. I’ll be right behind ye.”

You were so ready, but you didn’t want it to end, you had never felt this good, no one had ever worked your body this skillfully. Certainly no one had ever made you orgasm without even touching your skin, this was, just…….

You wailed at the moment his thumb pushed in as far in as your clothing allowed, just that tiny penetration was enough to make you fly apart. Your thighs clenched around his hand as your body writhed and shuddered on his lap, whimpering as his fingers keeping rubbing, drawing it out longer than you’d ever experienced before.

“Christ love, tha was gorgeous.” he grunted as you started to breathe again. Your hand still had him in a vice grip, his length jerking and swelling under your fingers. As he had done you watched his face as his head fell back, gasping for air as you slid your other hand down, cupping and scraping his balls, matching the rhythm of your hands.

“Fuck! God, that’s good, I’m so close….” his neck and face were red, sweat on his brow as his whole body strained against you. His hips started jerking uncontrollably and he let out a yell as he came, his back arching and his hands gripping the couch.

You watched as he shuddered back to Earth, his limp arms reaching up to wrap around you, pulling you against him as he breathed into your hair. Long minutes passed as you burrowed into one another’s necks, your heart finally beating at a normal rate, his breath now calm. Pulling back you ran your eyes over his face, still pink and sweaty, his hair sticking up all over the place. He looked…

“Well tha was satisfying. In fact tha was fucking incredible Y/N.” Satisfied was the word you’d been looking for. It was perfect, you could only imagine how satisfied you would feel when he was finally inside you.  

You could barely form a coherent thought, let alone articulate one, which led to a self assured gleam in his eye. He knew exactly how good he had made you feel and he certainly wasn’t ashamed of it. Or of you.

He proved it all night when every time he woke his mouth would brush against your neck as you snuggled against him. It felt amazing and unreal to wake up to his alarm, his arms tight around you until you both absolutely had to get up. For the first time you didn’t feel self conscious changing in front of him, in fact you enjoyed the frustrated grunt he gave when he watched you pull off your shirt leaving your chest bare to his hot gaze.

“Do me a favor today?” he came up to you as you tucked your t-shirt into your pants, all clean and dry now.

“What’s that?”

“Wear this over your shirt.” he handed you a button down shirt, specifically one that was uniquely and obviously his. Everyone would know it was his and the thought made your cheeks feel hot. “It will make me very happy tae see ye in mah shirt all day, and it will show everyone I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

Had he put it any other way you would have refused. Instead you pulled it on, tying it at your waist, knowing the buttons wouldn’t meet in the middle.

“Better?” you spun in front of him with a giggle.

“Perfect.”

He held your hand in the car all the way to work, constantly reassuring you that it was fine, that you were precious to him and that he would personally destroy anyone who hurt you. It didn’t take much thought to realise who he meant, you knew they would probably think you had stolen his shirt like a creepy stalker. That thought worried you.

Sure as shit, the two of them were right there as Jack pulled into the lot, tapping away on their phones as they waited for him, he’d told you that they did it every day. You gained satisfaction from the look on their faces as you stood up to close the car door, Jack coming around to take your hand. “Hey luv, I know it’s childish but….what do ye say we put them in their place?”

You nodded your agreement, barely managing a smile before his body pressed yours up against the car door, his hand holding the back of your neck. His lips were on yours, surprisingly gentle and your arms wrapped around his waist. He took your breath away, softly, sweetly and thoroughly, taking his time and kissing you slowly. It was the kiss of a lover, of a man who believed you were something precious to behold.

“That wasn’t just fer show, jus so ye know.” he smiled, brushing your nose with his. “The show is jus a perk.”

“I know what you’re doing Jack, if you think kissing me like that is going to get you an extra piece of cake today well….”

He cut you off with another kiss, short but just as sweet, leaving you feeling all wonky.

“You’re absolutely right.” you finished, enjoying his cheeky grin.

“Course I am, now let’s get tae it.”

“Get to what exactly?”

He slung his arm over your shoulder, neither of you even remembered that anyone else was there as you walked inside.

“The rest of our lives darlin.”

[blameblamebts]

It’s a bet then? Pt.3

Genre: Angst/Romance

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

A/N: Yea boi finally done with this series. It was supposed to be up so long ago r.i.p. I tried making this longer and hopefully you all enjoyed.Thank you to the original requester, i love you. EnJoy! (Y/F/N:‘your full name’)

Warning: mentions of suicide

Part 1 / Part 2

gif cr.

She had promised herself that she wouldn’t see Yoongi again, yet why was life betraying her decision? It’s been several weeks, almost two months since she last saw him, last heard his voice.

He had called a number of times throughout the day once, showed up at her front steps a couple of times, but she was hurt. Enough to keep herself silent in the bedroom as he constantly rang the doorbell.

     “Y/N…please open.” He’d cry out, and her heart would break hearing the crack in his voice.

A part of her wanted to open the door and run into his arms, maybe she’ll live happily with him, but another part of her mind told her it’s all lies. Too good to be true. How can someone like him ever fall in love with her. But that was months ago. He had stopped showing up, stopped calling. And it broke her heart because it just proved that he didn’t really care for her.

Those weeks managed to pass by painfully. She managed to wake up every morning in those early days after to another rainy day, sick and miserable.

Something was wrong, something was off.

     “Are you…pregnant by any chance?”

She stared back at Jisoo in shock, her heart thumping rapidly inside her chest. Please no.

One glance at the two pink lines are enough for her to collapse to her knees and cry. The stick falling out of her grasp and onto the cold tiles of the bathroom floor. Positive.

     “What did it say?” Jisoo asks her as she exits the bathroom.

She doesn’t need to speak because Jisoo sees the tears in her eyes and pulls Y/N into her arms.

     “Everything will be okay.” She assures Y/N, even though she isn’t too sure herself.

It’s a two months after she found out about the pregnancy that she see’s Yoongi again. He’s standing outside his parked car, outside the cafe. The rainy season had changed, and the skies were much clearer in the beautiful afternoons.

Stepping out of the glass doors of her workplace, she freezes at a sight she hadn’t seen in months. Her gaze getting blurry with tears just by seeing him stand there, leaning against the car in a rather awkward stance, a man behind the wheel who she assumed was his driver, guessing from his uniform. His eyes were on his cellphone, dialing into the device, seconds later she could feel her own cellphone vibrate with a call.

Yoongi

She turned in place, her back facing him. Her fingers wiping at the tears quickly.

Why did he have to show up? What did he want? What if he finds out?

The questions ran in her brain, making her forget that he stood only a couple of feet away.

It’s his voice that brings her out of her thoughts.

     “Y/N?” He calls.

She doesn’t turn, instead starts walking in the opposite direction.

     “Y/N!” He yells louder, but she’s already walking away.

She turns the corner, but freezes seeing that he’s not coming behind her.

Her cellphone vibrates in her hand once again, Yoongi’s name flashing on the screen yet again. The deep breath she lets out is both of relief and worry. She was relieved that he didn’t come after, but worried if he was doing okay, if he was happy. But just thinking about Yoongi being happy, while she is here miserable makes her tear. And it’s the the honking of the cars on the streets that make her come out of her thoughts, quickly wiping at the tears that managed to escape.

Walking home, Yoongi was all she could think about. The past few months without him constantly ringing at her door, showing up to her work or calling her, made her feel a sense of sadness, but it helped her grow in some way. She was no longer that naive girl that would give her everything for a man that she thought loved her, she was no longer that girl that would believe anything someone tells her without being hundred percent sure, instead she was much more confident, she had to be. For the sake of her child.

A hand brushes over her stomach, a small smile spreading to her lips as she glances down at it. Only a while until the bump starts to show, out in the open for the world to see.

For Yoongi to see.

A sigh escapes her lips as she rounds the hill that leads to her house. It’s when she’s only a couple of feet away from her house that she sees the familiar frame of Yoongi sitting on the front steps of her porch. The sight makes her eyes tingle, and soon she finds herself crying. Yoongi glances up at her presence and his own gaze softens.

This was it. She thought. The moment she’s been waiting for.

She walks towards, holding in a deep breath. She had it set in her mind. She would tell him off like she had in those earlier days. She would tell him she moved on, no longer loved him. The words hurt even though they were untrue, just in her mind, not escaping her lips yet. It’s his distressed figure that holds onto the steps and a crutch to stand, that has her halt in her tracks. He grimaces in some sort of pain before he stands before her, using the crutch to hold him up. Her wide gaze falls to his foot that is in some sort of a cast, something she hadn’t noticed since she was too busy avoiding him.

     “Are you okay?” She finds herself asking, instead of what she had planned.

He looks down at his own leg before managing to pull off a smile.

     “Yeah.” He answers, his voice low.

She missed him so much it hurts to stand so close and not get to hold him. But she stands strong, refusing to shed any tears in front of him.

     “What happened?”

He chuckled a bit, biting his lower lip.

     “Uh, car accident.” He replied, his fingers running through the dark strands of his hair.

She nods her gaze refusing to meet his, and silence follows.

     “Y/N.”

His voice is much softer, yet louder.

     “I miss you. I still love you.”

It was time for her to tell him what was on her mind, to cut off anything that was left.

     “Why are you back Yoongi? After all these months.” She held back tears, her fingers twisting at the sleeve of her shirt.

He furrows his brows, his gaze growing teary.

     “You think I wanted to stay away!?—”

His voice grows louder and she worries if someone might hear.

    “So much happened. I was in the hospital for the past two months Y/N, I just got out, and the only person I wanted to see was you.”

She finally looks at him, taken aback. A part of her wondered if she should believe him, while another part felt for him, worried.

The latter took control as her gaze soften.

    “Wh…what happened? Are you okay?” She asks.

He looks down, slowly nodding.

    “I got in an argument with my father and I got into an accident—” He shrugs, although his tone isn’t convincing. “Not a big deal.”

His step advance towards, just one step and he’s closer to her. Her arms react naturally covering her stomach, and he looks at her in confusion.

    “Are you okay?” He asks, noticing how much she had physically changed.

Her eyes glance everywhere but at him, before she stands straight, thinking of ways she could distract his gaze from her stomach.

    “Do you want to go inside?” She finds herself blurting out even before she could think.

He’s surprised for a moment but starts nodding, relieved that she wasn’t yelling at him too leave.

They climbed the steps, Yoongi a couple of steps behind thanks to his injury, and she looks for the keys, her hands shaking, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

    “Y/N. Are you sure you’re okay?” His free hand hold only hers, his skin cool against her burning hand.

    “Y…yeah.” She manages to say, finally fishing the keys out, and inserting it into the lock.

The house is the same as she left it in the morning, and how he had seen in a couple of months back. He still gazes around as if it were his first time entering.

    “Sorry, it’s probably messy.”

The house if as neat as it can be, and he narrows his eyes, wondering if she was indeed okay. A part of him was scared, wondering why she was so calm, even after how she was treated, but he was also glad that she was talking to him. Ready to hear him out. She starts to move about the throw pillows here and there on the sofa, trying to distract herself. He sits quiet, slowly watching her. A smile forms on his lips, though just a subtle motion. He missed her. Slowly he stands, hobbling a little, he grabs ahold of his crutch.

     “Y/N.” He calls her name, his tone just above a whisper.

She’s still, but doesn’t turn, and he slowly walks over, which is a bit of a challenge, but he manages to stand behind her. His crutch falls from underneath his arm and lands on the couch before clattering on the ground, while his arms wrapping around her. She freezes, and his body relaxes, his breath warm on the skin of her neck.

     “I fucking miss you. I’m so, so sorry.” He whispers, his voice cracking at every word.

She feels his grip around her waist, and is stiff.

     “Please forgive me—”He whispers ”I love you.”

Fearing for his grip to tighten she turns, his arms still around her. It isn’t until she’s face to face with him, that she realizes how close he is to her. She could see the dark circles underneath his teary gaze. His lips parted. Having the sudden urge to grasp his lips in her, she shut her eyes tight, controlling her emotions. Maybe he was feeling the same way, except he didn’t want to control anything, and in seconds his lips are on hers. Her eyes open wide, staring back at the white of the wall behind him, his eyes shut close. It isn’t until his teeth tugs at her lower lip, that her eyes finally flutter close, giving into his lips. She missed his touch, she missed his kiss, she missed him. Although the kiss lasted only a few seconds, they pull apart and she’s silent. So is he, but he clears his throat, a soft “sorry” escaping his wet lips.

     “I..I’ll be right back.” She manages to say, the feeling of nausea surging down on her. She felt dizzy, but now was not the time. Quickly turning on her heels, darkness starts to cover her wide gaze and she shakes her head, hoping to not fall. Except she does, and in seconds Yoongi’s screaming for her.

When she awakens she’s on the sofa. Soft voices could be heard in the hallway by the main door.

     “Thank you again for coming doctor.” She hears Yoongi’s calm tone.

     “It’s fine, It’s my job. You take care of that leg and your girlfriend.” The doctor’s voice is friendly.

Girlfriend?

She hears the door open and Yoongi thanking the doctor once again. A couple of seconds later the door closes and she panics hearing the sound of his crutch, her eyes quickly closing tight, and calming in a few seconds. She hears him sigh, and slowly sitting at the foot of the sofa, the cushion dipping underneath his weight. Her legs are lifted onto his lap, but she can’t do anything, her heartbeats quickened by every second. His fingers are soft, massaging at her toes, he’s quiet.

What was he doing.

     “Why didn’t you tell me.”

She stops breathing for a moment, scared. He knows.

     “Y/N. I know you’re awake.” He mumbles, his hands resting on the skin of her shin.

She could feel his burning gaze on her and slowly her eyes open. They soften at the sight of his teary expression, demanding for some sort of answer. She looks away, slowly sitting up, her legs slowly swinging back onto the ground until she’s in a sitting position.

     “You had your own worries.” She manages to excuse, her eyes glancing at his injured leg.

He can’t help but chuckle, which was a rather sad noise.

     “I should have been here.” He mumbles.

They sit in a never ending silence, that neither of them break, staring into the distance. She was sure he could hear the loud beats of her heart. He finally turns to look at her, her own eyes gazing at him. His lips part, but the words never come out, instead, the doorbell chimes throughout the house, declaring an incoming guest. She looks at the direction of the main door, wondering who it could’ve been. The door bell rings once again, finally bringing her out of her thoughts. Before Yoongi could say anything, she’s scurrying past him.

     “Took you long enough.” Jisoo states crossing her arms.

Y/N stands at the door, her body blocking anything behind her, the door opened just a crack.

Not suspicious at all.

     “Uh, listen can you leave for a bit?” Y/N blurts out.

Jisoo raises a suspicious brow.

    “Who’s here?” She asks curiously.

    “My..my..my grandmother!” Y/N lies.

Jisoo breaks into a laugh.

    “Really?! She loves me!”

Jisoo manages to squeeze through with her perfect, slim body even before Y/N can stop her, and in seconds she’s standing in the living room doorway, her eyes expressing startled look, her lips parted open.

     “I…I didn’t know he was your grandmother.” Jisoo finally says, looking back at Y/N who’s stood playing with the sleeves of her shirt.

He clears his throat, but the awkward silence remains. Jisoo sighs after a moment before locking eyes with Yoongi.

    “If she cries today, I’m gonna kick your ass—” Her words are cut short by Y/N tugging at her arm.

    “I’m watching!” She almost yells as Y/N leads her back outside.

A few seconds after Y/N walking back in, leaning against the door frame. The awkward silence returns.

    “Yoon—”

    “Marry me.”

Hey eyes shoot up at him, wide in shock. His tone was serious, the gaze in his eyes as serious. He manages to stand, slowly making his way over. Her words are trapped in her mouth and he’s standing in front of her when she finally starts to say something.

    “You’re jok—”

    “Im serious.” He cuts her off, the crutch falling to the ground with a loud clatter as he grabs a hold of her face in his palms.

His gaze softens, but his tone is desperate.

    “I fucking love you Y/N. And I can’t think of living without you—not after this, not after I find out you’re having my child.”   

She’s at loss of words, doesn’t know what to say at his statement. She loved him too, oh so much, but the endless nights of crying and the hurt she felt every time she thought about him held her back from crashing into his embrace. The way he looks at her brings tears to her eyes yet again.

     “Y/N…please.” His tone this time is much lower, much softer.

He bites back a sob as he looks at her with a glistening gaze, all he wanted was her forgiveness, to go back and fix his mistake or maybe start all over again. But he knew he wanted her by his side. She finally breathes, a deep breath she had been holding in for god knows how long, her arms weak at her side as her gaze falls to the ground.

     “I…I’ll think about it Yoongi.”

What was there to think about, she had wanted him for so long, yearning for his touch, yet now that he is here in front of her, his fingers on her skin, she can’t help but push him away. The negative thoughts clawing at the back of her mind.

He doesn’t say anything in return, his hands dangling back at his side. She bites back her own tears, her own arms itching to pull him back, yet what was holding her back? Had the past two months or so not made her realize what she had wanted? Why did she need more time? The silence settles yet again for almost the hundredth time, even the smallest of creaks sound like a gunshot in this silence. He breathes softly, slowly picking up the crutch that had helped him, resting under his arm as it had done before. He sighs, looking at her, a smile attempted to spread on his lips, but fails.

    “Y—”

    “I should go.” He whispers, and she could hear the crack in his voice.

She doesn’t say anything in return, but he leans in, his lips hovering above hers before he gazes into her eyes.

    “I love you Y/N, take all the time you need…just..just take care of yourself.” He whispers, so close his breath tickles at her skin.

She nods, waiting for his lips to engulf her own, a feeling she had been craving. Yet it doesn’t come, and she doesn’t know what to feel when he pulls back, standing straight in front of her.

When the door opens, Jisoo is sitting on the steps. Seeing Yoongi hobble his way on out with a quiet Y/N following behind she makes a face.

     “You okay?” She questions at the injured man.

Yoongi nods, pulling off a smile, though it’s a little forced.

The taller girl eyes Y/N, before stepping aside so he can get down. And just like that Yoongi disappears.

…

Two days pass by just like that, with a text coming from Yoongi at least once a day, nothing too big, nothing that makes her uncomfortable in her journey of “thinking”

     Make sure to eat tons for both yourself and the baby

     Don’t forget to take the medicine the doctor prescribed

     Take care of yourself

The words brought a smile to her face as she stared at them, always afraid to reply even if it was a simple thanks, ultimately sighing and turning her cheek.

Another day manages to tortuously pass, and she finds herself outside for once, pushing along a cart that contains various food contents that she had been craving for the pass week or so.

    “Y/F/N?”

Hearing her name she turns, her eyes widening immediately at the woman walking towards her direction.

    “Y..Yoona.” The name leaves her mouth in a whisper.

Yoona smiles, but it fades as she realizes something.

    “You probably didn’t wanna see me, it’s understandable.” She attempts to laugh.

Y/N narrows her eye, shaking her head in a ‘no’

    “Yoongi told me everything—gosh I must’ve looked so stupid introducing him to his girlfriend.” She says, although it is more to herself then to Y/N.

Y/N manages to smile at the girl who was nothing but nice to her, never would she have any ill feelings towards her. Yoona leans her weight on one food, her smile as beautiful as always, radiating even in this awkward atmosphere.

    “You know I’m glad Yoongi broke up with me.” She finally says.

    “How so?” Y/N questions.

Yoona sighs, her smile never wavering.

    “He made me realize he wasn’t the one I loved, even if I tried to love him, he just wasn’t the one. Especially after what he did, I don’t think I would ever be able to do something like that.” Yoona speaks, and Y/N looks back at her in confusion.

    “What did he do?”

    “Well, he’s madly in love, so in love he attempted suicide—I mean…”Yoona stops at Y/N’s widening gaze, covering her mouth because she had promised Yoongi to never tell anyone, but oops?

    “Wh…what?”

…

Yoongi stares at the words he had just sent Y/N as a text. It was a one sided conversation he was having with himself, yet it felt good to see the word Read under each text, a sense of relief washes over him every time they appear, telling him atleast she saw them, maybe even listened to him that day and ate tons for both herself and his baby. The room he’s seated in is quiet, and dark, but not fully thanks to the city lights that illuminate through the glass of this skyrise flat. Hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers, eyes glued outside, he sighs. End of another day, meaning another day without her. Before he could ponder further into his thoughts the doorbell chimes, echoing throughout the halls. Eyes glancing at his watch, he frowns, wondering who was here, his form slowly limping towards with the help of his crutch.

When the door opens he’s shocked, crutch falling to the ground as he stumbles back, eyes staring ahead at the white wall across the hall, in Y/N’s embrace. There are a thousand questions that swim through his mind; what was she doing her? Why was she here? How did she know where to find him? Why was she crying?

    “You’re such an idiot—who does something like that.” Her voice crack as she cries into his chest.

Yoongi blinks, his eyes narrowing as he pulls her face in front of him, fingers cupping her teary cheeks.

     “What…happened?” He asks, eyes worried as he wipes at her cheeks.

She continues to cry, hugging him yet again.

At this point he’s panicking, wondering if everything was okay, if the baby was okay, was she hurt?

     “Y/N please tell me.” He’s almost at the verge of his own tears.

Her grip around him tightens, face buried in his chest.

    “Yoona told me what you did—” She says in between sobs, “why did you do it Yoongi. Did you even think!” She almost screams.

He knows instantly what she is talking about and arms settle loose around her. He had made sure to make himself clear when he had told Yoona not to tell anyone, including her. She’s pulling out of the hug so she could face him, her teary gaze looking intently into his.

    “Do you love me that much? That you try to…try to take you own..life?!” She breaks into another cry, except this time he can’t help but laugh.

She’s taken aback by his laughter, and he stares at her as his laugh dies out, hands gripping at her shoulders.

    “I love you so damn much Y/N. I couldn’t imagine living without you—not after I hurt you.” His words trail off into a whisper.

The tears continue to fall, but this time, she’s pulling him forward by his collar, lips crashing against his. It takes him a few seconds to realize what was happening, but nonetheless he retaliates, lips kissing at her, arms pulling her closer almost desperately. She almost cries into the kiss because of how much she had missed it, how much she had missed him. They could continue kissing forever, they would continue kissing forever, except they had to breathe. And both pull apart for air, foreheads resting against each other, fingers cupping at the others’ jaw. A sob escapes her lips and he smiles, lips kissing at her forehead before pulling her into his arms, wrapping around in a tight embrace.

     “Don’t ever freaking think about doing something like that again.” She whispers, her voice raspy from crying.

His face nuzzles into the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent that he had craved all this time.

     “I won’t.” He smiles, mentally sighing in relief.

They stand there for god knows how long, elevator dinging every so often, yet both are silent in each others’ arms, either basking in the others’ warmth or too afraid to let go, or maybe both. But it’s almost forever after that the elevator outside dings yet again, this time however they return back to their reality, finally facing one another and she smiles at him. After so long, her lips had broken into a small grin.

    “I love you.” She whispers and it had him grinning wide.

Yoongi had meant what he had said the other day. They find themselves sitting on the couch, the room brightly lit now that she was here, nothing would be able to break the everlasting grin that settles sheepishly on his lips.

     “So you’re still gonna marry me right?” He ask, his tone laced with a sudden nervousness.

The question catches her off guard, the warm tea that he had handed her, almost slipping out of her hands.

     “Wh—”

     “I meant what I said Y/N. I want us to welcome our child into the world as a married couple.” He whispers.

She’s hesitant for a moment, and the suspense is almost murdering to him, but with the smile that she gives, a sense of calmness settles within him.

     “Let’s do it.” Her fingers squeeze at his, and it doesn’t take him even a second to capture her lips in his.

…

Y/N finds herself sitting in a restaurant, much fancier that the ones Yoongi had taken her to on their dates. Dressed in a dress that was probably more expensive than her monthly income, she sits nervously.

     “Don’t be nervous, it’ll be fine.” Yoongi’s voice tickles in her ear.

She was a handful of minutes away from meeting his parents, of course she would be nervous. He chuckles softly next to her, his eyes trailing back ahead, fingers giving a light squeeze at her thigh.

     “They’re here.” He whispers.

Her head shoots towards the elder couple who were adorned in smiles and expensive clothing. Looking back at Yoongi she notices the many similarities he shares with his Father, his skin complexion that of his Mother’s. Both Y/N and Yoongi stand, welcoming his parents, who looked nothing but nice.

     “Omma, Appa, did you have any trouble getting here?” He questions helping his mother into her seat.

     “No, not at all.” Mr. Min states.

Their eyes trail towards a nervous Y/N, who can’t do anything but awkwardly stand there for a second before breaking into a smile and greeting them with a bow. Yoongi controls the chuckle that almost slipped out of his lips as he helps Y/N sit back into her seat.

     “You must be Y/N.” Mrs. Min smiles, admiring the beautiful girl who sat, definitely nervous, in front.

     “Honey, relax. We don’t bite.” She says and both Mr. and Mrs. break into a laugh.

She nods, relaxing a bit, Yoongi’s caressing on her thigh being a big help.

Dinner goes smoothly, everyone sharing words here and there, getting to know a little more about the girl Yoongi was bringing to meet his parents after a not-so-smooth break with Yoona and the Park family, business wise of course. But nonetheless, the Min’s were understanding and agreed to meet Y/N, especially after that stunt he had pulled two months ago that led him to the hospital with a fractured ankle only, thank god.

     “So Yoongi—” His mother glances at his father. “What’s the real reason you called us.” Of course she knew, she was his mother.

He chuckles softly, glancing sweetly at his lover who was nothing but a heap of nervousness, definitely cute.

     “We…want to get married.” He announces.

His parents are silent for a moment, sharing looks. They’re thinking, probably wondering why so suddenly.

     “Uh..” Y/N finally speaks up, her turn to talk. They had discussed this, she would break the news to them.

The way the elder couple give all their attention makes her nervous all over again. Yoongi smiles at her, arm nudging softly at her as he nods.

     “We’re preg—having a baby.” She finds the right words, although they don’t sound right to her. But the words leave her lips, low, but loud enough for the duo sitting across.

The way their eyes widen don’t go unnoticed by either Y/N or Yoongi, who sit silently, observing his parents.

    “Wh—”

    “Oh my god!” Mrs. Min cuts Mr. Min off.

She’s eager, definitely, because she leaves her seat, already hugging Y/N. Mr. Min breaks into a happy laughter, before patting his son’s shoulder almost aggressively in excitement

That went well.  

…

Min Yoongi’s wedding of the year was still a go, except this time he was all smiles and madly in love with his bride.

He looked at his reflection, dark hair parted at the side, dressed in a white shirt and black tuxedo, he blows out a deep breath of air.

    “Dude relax.” Jin chimes in from behind a glass of champagne maybe, the blonde already trying to get tipsy.

Yoongi nods, mind telling him ‘you got this’ in a constant repeat, until he thinks he’s calmed his nerves even the slightest, though his eyes don’t leave his reflection, fingers buttoning and unbuttoning the front of his tuxedo jacket.

On the other end of the hall, in a room where Y/N was kept in, she was in her own crisis. Thousands of thoughts crossing her mind, almost all of them being ‘was she fat?’

     “You’re not fat.” Jisoo rolls her eyes, for the hundredth time, after Y/N had asked, for the hundredth time.

Y/N opens her mouth and even before she can ask, the taller girl is already answering.

     “No. You don’t look pregnant and your belly isn’t showing.” Jisoo stands behind her.

She takes a deep breath looking at herself in different angles, Jisoo turning down all her negative questions.

     “You look beautiful Y/N. Really.” Jisoo smiles at her best friend, fingers adjusting the veil behind her.

The ceremony goes smoothly, the bride and groom both nervous and shy in front of each other. Many words and ‘I do’s’ later, Yoongi finds himself pulling Y/N in for a soft kiss that lingers on her lips even after he shyly pulls away, the audience growing loud with applauses and maybe some whistles. Yoongi laughs, arms circling around his wife’s waist as he smiles wider, all gums and joy.

It’s fours speeches into the reception after, that the bride and groom themselves consider bailing, Yoongi does mostly, however Y/N shoots him down every time he suggests such a ridiculous idea.

While the bride and groom bicker on their own, Kim Seokjin thinks he probably fell in love. His eyes glued to the woman who stood a few feet away, talking to someone who she seemed very interested in.

     “I’ll go get you a drink” The guy she had been conversing for the past fifteen minutes with, finally states.

She smiles and nods, fingers tucking back a strand of hair.

     “He’s not interested, either has a girlfriend or spotted someone different.” Jin walks up to the tall girl, her black hair framing her face perfectly as she turns to look at Jin, eyes narrowed in a frown.

     “Do I know you?”

Jin smiles, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck.

     “Kim Seokjin, nice to meet you.”

She was annoyed, but not rude. Taking his hand in hers she gives it a slight shake.

     “Nam Jisoo—don’t you think it’s kind of rude to judge someone even before talking to them?” Jisoo refers to his earlier statement.

Jin breaks into a soft chuckle.

     “I’m not some clueless guesser, I know how to read people well.” Jin shrugs with a smirk.

She can’t help but grow defensive, arms crossing over her chest.

     “He’s not like that.” She backs up the man she talked for maybe half an hour, the most.

Jin raises a brow.

     “Really?—let’s bet then, what do you say?”

She’s hesitant for a moment, and obviously Jin didn’t learn from his previous bet, that he shouldn’t make any bets, but here he was, head cocked to the side as he waited for Jisoo to answer.

    “What do you have to offer?” She questions. Jin grins hands sliding into the confines of his trouser pockets.

    “Some of my precious time—I want to take you out on a date.”

She freezes for a second before letting out a laugh.

    “Oh! So that’s why you were quick to judge Hyunjae.” The guy who had disappeared to grab drinks a while ago, Jin guessed.

Jin doesn’t say anything, instead takes a sip of his drink.

    “Okay. It’s a bet then?” Jisoo asks with her own smirk.

As if she was winning. Jin’s million dollar grin returns to his lips.

    “I wasn’t quick to judge Hyunjae. I know assholes when I see them.”

Jisoo parts her lips to say something, but Jin is already grabbing at her shoulders and turning her around, the sight infront of her shutting her up right away.

    “I guess I won.” He whispers into her ear, his voice sending shivers down her spine.

She didn’t know what to acknowledge at the moment, Hyungjae liplocking with the blonde girl who had been eyeing him the whole time they spoke, or Seokjin shamelessly flirting with her. She looks at Seokjin, who hands her a drink, one she had been waiting on from that asshole over there.

     “For my beautiful date.” He winks, and she wonders why her cheeks tingle warm all of a sudden.

When the day finally comes to an end Yoongi collapses in the car even before they reach the hotel, the honeymoon suite. And when they do arrive, his sudden energy had returned and he wouldn’t keep his hands off of his bride. Entering the hotel room, Yoongi already had Y/N pinned against the wall, lips crashing against hers. She lets out a muffled squeal before kissing back with the same amount of desperation, and after a long day and of weeks in preparations for this day, they can finally breathe in relief, resting almost on top of each other in silence.

     “I love you.” Yoongi confesses for the millionth time that same evening.

She nods against his chest, arms wrapping tighter. Eyes drooping, she feels Yoongi shuffle about on the mattress until he’s sitting up and looking down at her. The kisses that are peppered on her stomach make her giggle softly even in her half-asleep state, nonetheless her fingers travel into his hair, massaging at his scalp as he continues to love his child, of course kissing Y/N on the lips a few times here and there as well. God, was he madly in love.

______

Fin.

Check out the Masterlist!

[internalshapeshifter]

Written a few weeks ago...

So last night I tripped acid for the first time. As many people would describe to you, it was a very different feeling. The world moved, I saw things that werent there (but not in a scary way in a “shapes turn into images and those images turn into neverending patters”), I feel closer to my boyfriend, who I know will eventually be my husband, and I feel like I have more of an understanding of life. I know that sounds generic as fuck but its the truth. Acid slows your mind down so much that youre able to really be in the moment of life and enjoy it to the fullest while its also running like crazy. The amount your brain is able to process is absolutely amazing. Like fuck dude. Science. Bodies. Creation. Fuck. The simplest way to describe this for someone who hasnt experienced it before, is that your mind is focusing on one thing but your eyes are taking so much in and you cant turn your eyes off. Literally. When I closed my eyes I was still seeing things. My mind was still bringing up things to stimulate myself with. Constant stimulation. With that constant stimulation I came to realize just how bad my self esteem really is. Whenever my boyfriend would leave me alone to go talk to someone else in the house we were in, the doom of all the negativity of life came crashing in. I couldnt wait for him to be back so I could hold him again and focus on him, and not myself. When we went downstairs to hang out with the other people in the house I.... fuck I lost my train of thought. Even though my mind isnt still technically on acid, as Im trying to recall the events it feels as though I took a part of the evening with me. Anyway, I think the reason I lost my train of thought a second ago was because downstairs was a whole other world. Upstairs and downstairs were totally different worlds. Then there was the outside. Fuck dude. Outside. Before I did it I read up on what you should do to prepare for acid and one of the things I read was that you should take it on a day thats nice so you can go and enjoy the outside. But last night wasnt nice out. It was cold and rainy and windy. We were in 7 different environments. My bf and I upstairs, my bf and I downstairs, my bf, his sister, and I downstairs, my bf, his brother in law, and I, downstairs, Then the outside, and inside. I dont feel like the above paragraph makes much sense to any sober person reading it. Please erase from your memory. I know that my words have probably already been hard to follow (thats how the drug is, jumping) but one of the main things I wanted to touch on was that we had one of the super expected line come into play. The “what if this is our reality and we somehow become who we are on the day to day because of some unknown reason”. A common one you may have heard is that oxygen makes you feel normal. But honestly, I dont think its anything outside of social conditioning. People kinda make fun of me for being so into psychology because it has no real use in the way that you can take it and make something of it. Physically. But I honestly think in the way that Im deciding to spend my time dedicated to psychology, that Im doing more for the world than the average person going to work and coming home and coming to work and coming home. Im fighting the real battle. Im fighting against being a sheep and going with the flow. Im challenging life and asking why. Why do we do what we do if it makes us so fucking miserable. I think I may have found a serious part of it. Back to my super expected question of “what if this is our reality and we somehow become who we are on the day to day because of some unknown reason”. Stay with me here. I know my mind is jumping so hardcore right now but please stay with me. Theres a book that Ive been reading about buddism and one of the main things that buddists want to do is reach enlightenment. The way they try to reach enlightenment is by “being in the moment” and living everything. Constant mediation. I felt like this experience really allowed me to live in the moment and follow what I want and feel. To be the truest form of myself. Once again, back to the question. The unknown reason I believe is learning. See, as a baby over time we obviously absorb a lot of information and the people around us. We study body language, voice tones, what is acceptable and what isnt, etc. My point in my previous sentence is that we are conditioned. We are conditioned to become what the things around us taught us to be. If our mother laughs at a joke, we learn to laugh at the same things. We are conditioned as fuck to be what the world around us wants to be. Imagine two worlds. The world we live in, and the world of enlightenment. I really dont know how we reach enlightenment but I believe that last night was a good precursor. Though meditation, which is basically what we did all night, I was allowed to process things I didnt understand and come to this conclusion. Hopefully I will be able to continue this process while sober so I can process it at a slower rate and understand it in a way where I can explain it. In a weird way, I feel like the way I was while tripping was the way I am on the day to day, Im just never allowed to focus on it.

Fuck.

Theres so much to go over. I want to go over the spiritual part of it all for the knowledge of others and their enlightenment. I want to face my personal issues because its a huge fucking problem. I didnt realize before last night just how fucking bad it was. I mean, I knew it was bad. I knew that I wanted to never exist because life is so fucking pointless its pitiful how much people try to make it work, but last night I was able to process just how bad it was. *insert crying laughing emoji* the fact that I just said life was pointless and theres no point to anything probably seems like a huge deal but it wasnt. The bigger deal is that thats how I feel but Im not going to give up because my purpose is to help humanity come a little further along to understanding that purpose. Its strange to come to the realization that my life will have no actual end (as in a beginning and end of a book like the end of sex). It will continue with the next person fascinated by psychology and the meaning of our purpose. Just like all the other people in history who have done amazing things. Benjamin Franklin took one step toward understanding electricity and bettering lives of the others ahead of us. I hope I can follow in his footsteps and create a better life for the people around me and in the future.

I really wanna keep typing but Im getting tired so Im going to put this down for a minute.  

I took a shower. Get readly for another dose of your fav ginger. One of the topics we touched on was our day to dday masks. On the daily we tend to put on a mask of how we want others to percieve us. When we were going from upstairs to downstairs one specific event I remember so vividly was looking in the mirror before we went and trying to make my hair look nice. I was trying to go from a spiritual expierence to trying to be my normal self. I dont like my normal self. Its not me. Its not who I want to be. Ive been trying so hard to be what tohers want me to be that Im totally forgetting to be myself. To be what makes me special. I dont wanna put the mask back on. Phantom of the opera is a story about removing your mask. Its one of my fav movies and Im only just realizing it.

[russellthornton]

100 Completely Overlooked, Yet Awesome Things to be Thankful For

Amazing things to be thankful for are all around us, sometimes you have to open your eyes. Especially when you don’t feel joyous.

Is there anything worse than being in a totally bad and negative mood and having someone say something like “you should count your blessings.” Sure, when things go bad I know that there is always someone worse off than me, but I also think things could be better. If you look for things to be thankful for, they are all around you.

I grew up with privilege. No, I didn’t grow up a Kardashian. Way, way, far removed from them. But, privilege is all in degrees, isn’t it? No matter how bad things get in my life, how many knocks I experience, and how badly I’m beaten down by bad luck, I can always find things to be thankful for.

100 wondrous things to be thankful for that we take for granted

I am not trying to convince you that if things in your life suck right now you shouldn’t wallow for a while. Everyone needs their pity party to move on. But, I would insist that everyone, and I do mean everyone, has things to be thankful for.

A function of being human, God, or whoever rules this universe, gives us all things to celebrate even in times when the last thing we feel is celebratory.

#1 Rain. Not everyone loves rain, but it is the thing that makes the flowers and grass grow. It also washes all things away to make everything new. Like a do-over, rain is one of the things to be thankful for. [Read: 12 keys to finding your second chance]

#2 Love. No better feeling on earth. What feels better than being in love? If you have people in your life that you love, then you have something to be very thankful for. [Read: What does it feel like to be in love?]

#3 Kissing. Is there anything more exhilarating than when your lips meet theirs? A very strange practice for sure, I am very thankful for the times I get kisses from the guy in my life.

#4 Smiles. Smiles are like a little shot of happiness directed your way. Smiles make your day bright and all your problems seem that much less.

#5 Laughter. Laughter truly is the best medicine. Be thankful when you can find the humor, even when things are not humorous.

#6 Puddles. Puddles aren’t just for kids. Come on now, you like to drive through them and stamp them every once in a while, admit it!

#7 Wind in our hair. Nothing more life affirming than letting the wind whip your face as you find your freedom in a convertible, motorcycle, or just our riding your bike. The wind is something miraculous. [Read: 14 steps to unfake your life and love being you]

#8 Rainbows. Not just the gay community is thankful for rainbows. They are pretty amazing!

#9 Children’s laughter. That includes the laughter of a baby who just learned how to giggle. It just sets your heart on fire. I suppose that I should lump YouTube here too because you can listen to it anytime you want.

#10 Sunny days. Sunny days are like soaking in energy that lasts forever.

#11 Rainy days. Rainy days are God’s way of giving you a break to do nothing but lay in bed and watch a movie on a weekend.

#12 Friends. What would life be like without friends? I can’t imagine not having anyone to pick me up or to vent to. [Read: 18 ways to build lasting friendships]

#13 Family. Sometimes you are thankful for them, sometimes not. But when the shit hits the fan, it is nice to have them around.

#14 Shelter. We all need someplace warm and safe!

#15 Good food. Of any kind!

#16 Shoes. Can you imagine how much your feet would hurt?

#17 Orgasms. They make you feel really good, right?!

#18 Praise. When someone says, “good job,” that is something that you should be thankful for. There isn’t enough of that going around.

#19 Sex. It makes us feel good and connected to someone.

#20 Emotions. Good, bad, or indifferent, it is better than walking through life without anything but vanilla.

#21 Spring. Blooming flowers and spring showers.

#22 Fall. Sweater weather and football.

#23 Quiet. Sorry, that might just be for those of us with kids. [Read: How to make the absolute most out of your alone time]

#24 Children. That one during certain stages might not apply, but overall, it always will.

#25 Cars. Walking everywhere would be a total bitch and waste of time.

#26 Pizza. Melty, cheesy goodness. What’s not to be thankful for?

#27 Netflix. What did we do before we could watch whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted?

#28 Music. It can bring you up, allow you to wallow, or just remind you of the best time ever. [Read: Fun and upbeat songs to groove you out of that funk]

#29 Hugs. We need human touch, and hugs are one of the best forms.

#30 Starlit nights. A reminder of how big this universe is.

#31 Campfires. No need for scary stories just the people who make you smile.

#32 Heat. It would suck to be cold all the time!

#33 Air conditioning. It would really suck to be hot all the time.

#34 The internet. Sometimes a blessing, sometimes a curse.

#35 Smart phones. A text from someone you love or a chance to check out your pictures.

#36 Free will. If you use it the right way, or any way I suppose.

#37 Baths. How good does rushing water feel?

#38 Pets. Until they pee on your carpeting! [Read: Why millenials are choosing puppies over babies]

#39 Ziplock bags. Disposable stuff rocks!

#40 Wine. It just takes you away.

#41 Beer. Let’s be thankful for the hops!

#42 Credit cards. Especially when you get in a jam!

#43 Freedom. The best thing in the world, we should be thankful for soldiers here too!

#44 Vacation. Time away gives the perspective we need.

#45 Superficial people. Without them we wouldn’t know what depth feels like!

#46 Social media. It gives us a chance to stay connected with people we weren’t able to before. [Read: The good, the bad, the ugly of social media]

#47 Cookies. Hot out of the oven…

#48 Moms. Maybe not all of them, but I am thankful for mine!

#49 Penicillin. We don’t suffer like they used to.

#50 Indoor plumbing. No more outhouses? That definitely rocks.

#51 Random acts of kindness. A little kindness goes a long way.

#52 Comfortable couches. Nap time!

#53 Walmart. Wally world has like everything you need.

#54 Fast food. Yum!

#55 A roof over your head. Sleeping in the rain is miserable. And wet.

#54 Clothes. Although there might be some people you wouldn’t mind seeing naked.

#55 Laundry machines. Beating your clothes on rocks was hard work.

#56 Refrigerators. Leftovers are the best. You should be thankful for them too.

#57 Fireflies. It is a miracle how they can light up their little asses, isn’t it?

#58 Therapists. We all need someone to talk to.

#59 Good health. If you have it, be thankful for it!

#60 Sunsets. It’s almost bedtime! [Read: How to make happiness your default state]

#61 Sunrises. The promise of a new day.

#62 Mountain views. If you get to go, go.

#63 Sandy beaches. And a cold beer!

#64 Dessert. Chocolate! Sugar rush! Enough said.

#65 Drinks with umbrellas. Love my frou-frou drinks.

#66 Earphones. Especially the noise canceling ones.

#67 Pick-up lines *that work*. We all need to feel wanted.

#68 Toothbrushes. Clean teeth are the best.

#69 Flowers. They make the world look and smell more beautiful.

#70 John Mayer. Sorry, this one might just be for girls, but I am thankful that he introduced the notion of my body being a wonderland!

#71 Concerts. A crowd of people excited together.

#72 Traditions. It connects us to our past.

#73 Flex time/freelance positions. What is better than working from anywhere?

#74 Home ownership. Until something breaks, that sucks.

#75 Summer. Sunshine warm on your back. [Read: 6 healthy summer trends and what they can do for you]

#76 Christmas *or any holiday*. Family and friend time and lots of good food.

#77 Snow days. There is nothing more to be thankful for than a free day to sit at home and do nothing!

#78 Doctors. Love them, hate them, but we’d be pretty sick without them.

#79 Companionship. We all need it.

#80 Old people. Some of them… They give you knowledge when you need it.

#81 America. Lots of freedoms.

#82 The ability to vote. If you don’t use it, you can’t be thankful for it, so use it!

#83 Freedom of speech. Sometimes good for you, sometimes bad, but be thankful you can say what you want without fear.

#84 Your favorite t-shirt. It fits all your kinks and is oh-so-soft.

#85 Memories. What if we just went from day to day without ever remembering the good or the bad? Pretty meaningless.

#86 Youth. If you have it.

#87 Your first crush. Whether you knew it or not that was about the most exciting feeling you will ever have. Hopefully, you enjoyed it!

#88 French fries. And ketchup! [Read: Foodie dates! 15 trendy dinner ideas]

#89 Hair ties. Girl thing, nothing worse than your hair in your face and mouth all the time.

#90 Makeup. It can hide just about any blemish.

#91 Compliments. They just make you feel good.

#92 Being educated. If you are, you know what I mean.

#93 Dancing. The crazy kind, like just letting it all go free and easy.

#94 Sunglasses. Looking cool and keeping wrinkles at bay.

#95 Living in a first world nation with first world nation problems. Yep, as horrible as they can sometimes be, imagine if you didn’t have them at all.

#96 Good hair days. There is nothing better.

#97 Luck. We don’t all have it, and we don’t have it all the time. When we do, it sure does feel good.

#98 Blessings. These are all the things I have lumped into things that make you, you. [Read: How to stop feeling sorry for yourself & stop the pity party]

#99 Sneezing. Anyone who had to sneeze but couldn’t get it out knows what this means!

#100 Being alive. Is there anything else?

The things to be thankful for are typically the ones we take for granted most. The next time you feel like life beats you down, or you feel like the unluckiest person in the world, take a look around at all the miracles you can find. If you just open your eyes a little, you see that you have so much to be thankful for.

[Read: What it means to be your own hero and take control of your life]

Sure, life is not always a piece of cake, and things can be rough. The good news is every day is a new day filled with wonder and things to be thankful for from sunrise to sunset.

The post 100 Completely Overlooked, Yet Awesome Things to be Thankful For is the original content of LovePanky - Your Guide to Better Love and Relationships.

[canaryatlaw]

Well today was pretty all around good, so yay for that! Alarm went off at 9 am and I got myself up, thankfully, and made my way to church, even though it was raining and fucking freezing all fucking day AGAIN which didn't make the journey very pleasant at all but I did make it with some time to kill since I was going to service first (I use the same time set up to get to church, and when I'm in the babies room first I need to get there a bit earlier, so when I'm going to the service first I end up being early) so I went to the awesome volunteer lounge they have that's always stocked with amazing food and had some of this chicken and dumplings combination and I definitely used the chili toppings of sour cream, cheddar cheese, and oyster crackers and mixed it all together, and it was pretty damn awesome. So then I sat in the lounge and talked to people I know, including a discussion about 13 reasons why based off my Facebook post from yesterday (and I was speaking with the mom of teenagers so that of course brought up some important stuff to be mindful of while watching) which got over 30 likes so I felt was pretty successful. Went to service, and I feel super bad about this but I was definitely feeling rather sleepy during it and I legit can't remember pretty much any of the message haha which is bad. I think it's the new melatonin I'm trying, it's the same amount as all the others but maybe I think I'm letting too much of it dissolve in my mouth or something stupid like that so I managed to stay awake guru didn't get much out of the message unfortunately. Thankfully, I knew that only happened when I was sitting and not actively doing anything, so I wouldn't get sleepy while in the babies room. So I make it up there once the service ends, one volunteer from the last service is sticking around to pack things up a bit. I forget if I've mentioned this before, I probably have at some point, but my church has to move off site for the month of May for construction, so after today's service we had to pack everything up to move. But things were quiet at first and there was a very cute little 5 month old girl I was playing with, and I settled her to be rather content in one of the little rockers with toys hanging from above. I don't remember the exact order, but we got a few more babies shortly after, including a little girl who's apparently been having a hard time staying and not crying for quite a while now and her parents were convinced she was gonna start screaming as soon as they left, and then she was good for pretty much the entire service, like I think there was maybe 1 minute worth of crying the whole time which was pretty impressive. Then we got a quick influx because they were doing baby dedications today in this service so after they do that they take the babies to the nursery of course so we had like 4 of them come in. We weren't doing too bad because for the most part everyone was cooperating so it was only a little chaotic. A mom and her son who's also had troubles came in and she sticks around for him, and there's this really cute little girl who can walk and such but just really likes being held, so once the other official worker and I were dealing with actually crying babies she just went to the mom and basically was in her lap the whole time and it was too cute haha because I know from previous conversations she has 3 little boys and would like a little girl. We may actually ask if she wants to join the team working in the babies room soon haha since she seems to be doing well with it already. I had one of the adorable twins that was dedicated for a little while because she was crying, they're normally very docile and almost never cry but thanks to the dedication they missed their nap so she was cranky and ended up getting passed off. Then the 5 month old girl I was with originally started crying so I held her and rocked her for probably the last 20 minutes, she stopped crying fairly quickly but didn't seem all that interested in falling asleep even though I could tell she was tired, so we just hung out and it was fine. So yeah, a bit chaotic but overall pretty good turn out for that number of babies and few volunteers. At the end of the service the two other babies team coaches who are married and lawyers showed up (they had served in an earlier service) to help with the packing and transition, so I stuck with them for a while and packed stuff up, and then we had a little powwow with everyone there on what the plan was and there was a funny little moment where they were trying to explain what would be happening to the building that made it so we couldn't be in it, and they said something like they "have to build in easements" for something about the seating but easements are a concept in property law so as soon as they said that word all 3 of us just looked at each other and smothered our giggles. It was around this time though that I realized the rest of it was probably gonna be a lot of lifting and carrying, which I really should not be doing with my back, and after voicing it the two of them told me to get out of here and go study for my finals because they had enough people haha and I didn't really have any good arguments against so I did (after grabbing a slice of crappy papa johns pizza and a less crappy ice cream bar). I wasn't gonna go all the way back up north to home since I would need to be around there for the babies team meeting we were having tonight anyway, so I went over to the Starbucks I've been chilling in when I have time to kill in that area to get some work done. I had my first experience with "pink drink" because up to this point whenever I'd asked they said they were out of the stuff to make it with. I was somewhat skeptical because I'm not really a coconut fan at all but I wanted to try it, and it was actually really good! So I'm a fan, lol, typical basic white girl I know. But then I got down to business to defeat my paper, 6 sections left out of 21, which I was able to knock down to 2 sections left after today (which is really 1 1/2 half sections because one is partially answered). Basically, I have everything except the revenue and expense budget because I have no fucking idea where to even start with that, but I'm gonna consult the actual textbook (if you could call it that) that we got for the class that I stopped reading out of after the second week of class and hopefully they can help with some guidance there, and if not my bs skills are pretty universally well-tuned, so hey, I may just be able to pull it off anyway. After that I'll just have to write the appendix which should be fairly short, and some sort of works cited page (I was pressing him for what kind of citations he wanted and he's like "I really don't care, whatever works" and I was like THATS SO UNHELPFUL lol but I think he was generally trying to communicate he doesn't care about all the technicalities that have been hammered into our brains as vital for all these years and he just wants the content to be good with an understandable cite, so I can handle that. I'll probably have to do some editing to different sections to make it flow together better, but I should be on track to finish it tomorrow and hopefully have some time left to study for crim pro. I'm currently at 26 pages of full text, no blank spaces, and just over 9,000 words, so I think I'm in a pretty good spot because I did aim to get as close as possible on all the word limits so it would feel like I have enough content. So I'm happy with that for now. While I was at Starbucks I got a text from the babies group leader who was hosting the meeting tonight saying they had been a miscommunication with her roommate and we couldn't meet at her apartment tonight, so we ended up moving the meeting to this cute little pizzeria. So now I just had to figure out how to get there. Plugged it into my maps and the best route seemed to be the bus that runs the street that I was on north, and then a shorter ride east to the address. Okay, this should work. Except for some reason my bus time tracker app didn't have the second route listed- like it just skipped over route 70 for some reason. Weird, but whatever, I still had google maps which was pretty good with that stuff. So I hopped on the bus and took it a good ways north, then got off and waited for the next bus to come....and waited....I finally figured out how to get an arrival time off another app and it was still ten minutes out at which point I was really like 😡😡😡😡 because in case you've forgotten it's still really rainy and fucking cold out and standing out there for a prolonged period of time was about as miserable as you can get, so I was not a happy camper by the time the bus came, but I was very glad it did show (and coincidentally, the name of the place we ate at was named happy camper). It was a cool place, pretty big, they ID as soon as you walk in lol so we got a booth and just talked normal chat for a while, and then when our food came we started getting down to business. A lot of it had to do with the move and transitioning of course, and how to best help our families with that. Since the church will be meeting in an elementary school for the next month the kids rooms are actually gonna be in the building next door, so that's gonna be somewhat difficult to navigate at first so we wanted to make sure we were ready for that. And yeah, we just did other basic talk about any problems we've been having, any suggestions we have, and looking to expand the volunteer team, because apparently our church volunteer base is lower than most churches, which seems very odd to me because I feel like everyone volunteers, but that's probably because I'm a volunteer and that's how I know them, lol. Apparently we have about a 17% volunteer rate out of our typical 1,500 person congregation (I didn't know this number so that was cool to learn to) and most churches have their numbers in the 20's or 30's, so we'd like to work on that. And yeah, we basically just talked and laughed and had a good time. I ordered a pizza with Parmesan, tomatoes (that I mostly ended up picking off, lol) and pesto sauce and omgggg it was amazing and I would definitely get it again. So that was overall a productive meeting. As we're getting set to leave I'm trying to figure out my options to get home from here, and it looks like if I walk a few blocks over I could either catch a bus north that gets me pretty closer to my apartment (second closest after the 50 bus I take to work) or there was a red line stop, but if I took the red line I would have to walk 15-20 minutes home in the freezing miserable rain- but I could also get stuck outside waiting for the bus and I was not about to do that again. So I check the arrival times for the bus and it's like, 3 minutes, and 20 minutes. Well crap. At this point I just figured I'd head in that direction and see what happens, and I kept tracking the bus and saw that it was still a little bit out, and when I got to the intersection it had just pulled up to the bus stop- which was on the diagonal corner from where I was, which with crosswalk signals make it pretty much impossible for me to get there. But they had a red light so I ran to the other side of the street, then contemplated running into moving traffic several times, but I managed to get across without any cars coming and just as their light turned green I managed to signal to the bus driver that was still about 15 feet away that I was coming, and he graciously waited for me, and I've gotta tell you, I was so glad in that moment haha because I so did not want to have to be out in the weather any longer. So that made me happy. The 22 bus is a nice view on the ride north, it's just not particularly fast so I don't always utilize it, but it was enjoyable tonight. Got home shortly after 9, and against my better judgment watched Chicago Justice, which I think I'm officially quitting because this goddamn show is going to give me an aneurysm out of the sheer amount of anger and frustration that builds up in me watching them just get legit everything wrong about the legal system and try to pull off these ridiculous stunts with charging people with certain crimes that in real life would get thrown out in a SECOND, and seeing that week after week is just incredibly irritating, and they manage to get all the stupid stuff wrong to like objections and I swear nobody on this damn show knows what a cross examination is because literally all of them use it as counselor testifying but nobody objects. So I think I'm giving up here. Apparently though there were a few people on Twitter that were enjoying my commentary of how full of bs it was, lol. Oh well. I went to Riverdale then, which mostly just made me roll my eyes. I was never really into the whole teen drama scene, not counting Smallville because that's not really a "drama" anyway, and what makes it even more absurd is it seems like the kids here are all mostly normal but all their parents are out of their fucking minds and going to end up in jail for running a criminal enterprise or something, lol. So I was meh at best about that. Then I stuck around for an episode of friends before getting ready for bed, and here we are. Get to sleep in tomorrow thankfully, so looking forward to that, then getting the pedal to the metal on studying/writing as we hit these last 3 days. By Thursday I'll be totally done with the semester! Seriously, can't wait. Sigh, until then. Goodnight babes. Sleep well.

[rachelisnotatwork]

Week 6: raindrops keep falling on my head (of increasingly frizzy hair)

We woke up in Wanaka to find the sun shining! We hurriedly packed up our room, slapped on the factor 50 and leapt into the car. The plan was to drive up to Fox Glacier, with several nice stops planned on the way. Naturally within 30 minutes of getting into the car it was pissing it down with rain. This situation continued, constantly, until we reached Fox Glacier. We drove up to the Matheson cafe, which is up near a lake where we’d hoped to walk and shivered over bowls of hot soup (it’s not the hot tropical rain here, it’s the “north wales in October” sort) whilst watching the rain fall through the misted up windows.

We checked into our hotel and eventually in the evening the rain changed to a light drizzle and we did manage to get around the lake and appreciate it’s “mirror” views of the leaden skies (mountains not in sight).

Just as we arrived at the car park the drenching rains started again. As we drove back into town, we picked up a hitchhiker who happened to be a Dutch employee of the cafe who was three months into a year in NZ. He was telling us it’s basically been cold and raining since he arrived and that all the locals told him this was really unexpected. I’m starting to think that NZ always has shitty weather and they just pretend to tourists who are only there for a week or two that they’ve been “unlucky” with the weather.

The plan was to see the Fox Glacier and then drive off and see the Franz Josef glacier the next day. Naturally the day dawned with torrential rain. Amazingly we managed to get enough of a break in the clouds to see both. Fox looked disappointingly dirty for all the rain. Also you had to climb up a steep hill to view it and just as you were maximally out of breathe and exhausted halfway up, they had a sign saying “no stopping for next 400m due to risk of rock falls”.

Franz Josef was thankfully a more gentle climb/it was raining pretty hard and so we didn’t get any closer.

Marcel also made us stop briefly at a Wetland called Okarito, where it poured with rain on us again. I wasn’t quite sure why we were making the effort to go to a wetland when the whole West coast seemed semi-submerged in rainwater.

We drove on up to Hokitika and whilst it had been raining heavily there again, there was enough of a break to visit Hokitika Gorge which was pretty beautiful and blue. Car park was full of weka, which are these really dim flightless birds that stand around on the ground screaming their heads off and then waddle off in a panic if anyone actually walks towards the awful noise they’ve made.

Marcel wanted to spend a few more days on the West Coast but by this point I was really really really sick of being rained on and demanded we head North to slightly drier climes ASAP. We decided to head for Abel Tasman National park the next day.

We did not regret this decision as all along the 6 hour drive the next day, it poured with rain so heavy it came in our heating vents and trickled down the dashboard. 

NZ has many, many couples in their 50s on cycling holidays. We passed scores of them, looking miserable, faces bent into the wind as the rain dripped off the gear strapped to the back of the bicycles. Considering it had rained everyday but 1 of 2017, I am not quite sure how they hadn’t all snapped and murdered each other.

Luckily by the time we arrived in Kaiteriteri, the rain had lightened to a drizzle and finally it stopped enough for us to have a walk along the beaches and headlands there.

The next day we headed for Abel Tasman. It rained a little bit on the journey there, but by the time we arrived it was blazing sunshine (albeit with wind). We walked over the saddle to a pretty much empty beach (Anapai bay), where our only company was a few sandflies and a stoat chasing some relatively large flighted birds (never let a lack of ambition hold you back). We lazed there a while in the novel sensation of being able to enjoy the sun and then pottered back in the evening.

The next morning we headed for Picton as we had the ferry booked for Saturday morning (with much difficulty; the company had decided to stop you getting the discount from the websaver fare by stating “page not found” whenever you tried to complete the booking on it, meaning you had to call the call centre for the more expensive ticket). On the way we decided to stop for a walk. I casually picked a place called Rabbit Island from the Lonely Planet as it suggested it had nice walks. And it really did! Miles of empty beach, beautiful shells, warm rock pools and next to no other tourists.

We stopped for a late lunch at a hipster vegetarian restaurant which had repurposed old vinyl record covers into menus. I particularly enjoyed the idea that someone might have bought my original record. 

To compensate for the nice morning it had graced us with, it started pouring with rain whilst we were in the restaurant so we got soaked heading back to the car. It had settled by Picton though, so we enjoyed a walk along the bluffs as the sun headed down.

On Saturday we boarded the ferry with some trepidation after last time’s seasickness nightmares. This time, apart from the dried vomit encrusted on the seat back in front (probably the reason why they were the only free seats), everything was smooth sailing. The seas were calm and I saw dolphins! And whilst I do have a tendancy to hallucinate on seasickness tablets, I hadn’t even taken any this time so there really were dolphins swimming by the ship. And because I wasn’t feeling seasick at all, when we arrived I had some more delicious hot chocolate from Bohemein chocolates (Marcel pointed out I got the name wrong last time).

Then we drove up to a town called Raetihi. It started raining on the way. The winds came up. Raetihi turns out to be a bit of a ghost town and our airbnb, whilst nice, was a somewhat drafty conversion. Rain and wind shook the windows. We stoked up the fire and I knitted the infernal penguin pattern and swore lots and then just as we were heading to bed at midnight, a very loud air raid siren started going off by our house. This is one of those times when you realise the downside of airbnbs, as we had no idea if this was something we should worry about or not in a country with earthquakes, tsunamis, volcanic eruptions etc and there was no one around to ask. Thankfully googling it revealed smaller places use this as a way to alert volunteer fire fighters that they are needed. Clearly they’ve not heard of a whatsapp group. We went to bed hoping we weren’t supposed to be heading for higher/lower ground/standing in a doorway/hiding the in the cellar.

The next day dawned....super rainy and windy. I tried to go for a brief walk around town, but headed back after ten minutes because the rain had got so heavy. Lots of broken tree branches everywhere from the storm.

Decided to take to heart that “you are staying in a home” part of the airbnb message and use all the supplies I could find in our kitchen to make chocolate chip cookies. 

Didn’t have any way of measuring the ingredients, nor was there a bowl and I may die of salmonella from having to test the raw mixture every few minutes to check the ratio of ingredients was okay (the place comes with loads of free eggs from the chickens the owner keeps somewhere, so hopefully they aren’t disease-ridden) but we did end up with about a million cookies. So that and the log-fire were the minor upsides of a weekend of driving rain. Rather looking forward to moving on from NZ...there’s a limit to how long you can get rained on whilst eating very expensive, very bad cheese.