This Was So Heartbreakingly Beautiful. The Way You Described Their Pain, The Way Every Word Appeals To

This was so heartbreakingly beautiful. The way you described their pain, the way every word appeals to my emotions to the point of tears is so marvelous. Thid story is one of the best I've come across. There are simply no words that can truly describe it's effect on me.

A Bed of Roses [Finale]

Chapter 7 - Chapter 8

Words: 6880

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Superpower!AU

“She’s dangerous. She’s a monster, a threat, a killer. Why would we want to let a criminal go on the loose? What if she hurts people?!” Wendy shouts, slamming a fist onto the table. “What are we going to do then?! How do we explain it to the public?! It would be our fault!!”

“Well…we’re going to have men follow her every move and we’ll inject her with a tracking device. If she goes crazy or passes the time limit, the bomb inside her will explode.” Niel shrugs. “I don’t see what the problem is.”

“The problem is that the risk is too high! It’s not worth it.” Wendy spits at him, crossing her arms.

Keep reading

if you’re wondering why I’m having to repost this, or why you were perhaps previously following me but no longer are, please refer to this post. I was able to retrieve this thanks to the very lovely friends who have relentlessly sifted through tumblr archives to recover them, thank you all so much!! ♡

First Kiss With Legolas

As expected, Legolas was not smooth when it came to your first kiss, in the same way that he has never been smooth in any other exchange with you. He knew from the moment he laid eyes on you that you were his soulmate, and he had been living under the misapprehension that once he found his soulmate, all forms of intimacy would come naturally to him. But of course, this was not the case. At first, finding the courage to hold your hand was enough to cause him a greater stress than he had ever known, and hugging? Dont even get him started. Once those two levels of affection had been accomplished, though, he knew it wouldnt be long before it was time to evolve to the next stage: kissing. Legolas truly could not comprehend thoughts of kissing you, they drove him close to the brink of insanity with desperation and desire, but he was simultaneously terrified of not pleasing you. When he couldnt resist any longer, he approached you in your chambers.

“(Y/N), I wonder if I could...try something.”

You raised an eyebrow in amusement. “That depends on what it is you wish to try.”

Legolas cleared his throat and straightened himself. “For some time I have wished for nothing more than this, and although I fear displeasing you more than I fear anything else in existence, my desperation for this exchange now overshadows that, and I am afraid all dignity has been lost on my part. I wish to kiss you.”

You smiled up at him and rose to your feet, taking a few steps towards him. “Then your wish is my command, my prince.”

You stood on your tiptoes and he leant down in order to meet your lips, his eyes fluttering closed the instant they made contact as euphoria consumed him. He had read of the emotions felt during kisses, but he had never imagined something as beautiful as that. Once you pulled away, he had a new wish fully formed in his head: to kiss you at every chance he got.

Leap of Faith

aka an Only One Bed headcanon with no context whatsoever

because this popped into my head and I wanted to be able to write and finish something for once god damn it. @the-girl-with-the-algebra-book this is for you 🥰

Legolas/Human Reader (gender-neutral)

Word count: 663

Rating: G

Read on AO3!

Legolas is instantly flustered at the sight of the single bed, his eyes darting between you and the pillows and back again. Despite himself, he’s half-contemplating diving out the window to freedom—but at the look on your face, he forces himself to take a shuddering breath.

You’re more than happy to share the bed, you reassure him: there’s plenty of room, and you’re a heavy sleeper, so he won’t disturb you. But he rejects the offer smoothly. Elves do not sleep like mortals, of course, and he need not lie down to find his rest as you do.

For the first time, he regrets it.

Legolas is a gentleman: he turns away quickly as you slip out of your traveling clothes and boots and slide under the covers, but the rustling of your garments and slide of fabric against your skin is so loud in the silence of the little bedroom, so intimate, that his heartbeat lurches in his chest. By the time he risks a glance back at you, you’re buried in blankets and pillows, looking more at peace than he’s ever seen you.

And now there is nothing to do but wait for dawn.

He pours water over the coals in the fireplace as your breathing evens out in sleep. He paces quietly. He sighs. Time slips by, and his eyes dart to you more and more often.

He’s curious. That’s what he tells himself, anyway. Legolas has so rarely been around mortals, and the way they sleep is fascinating. You’re deeply, wholeheartedly asleep—no wide-open staring eyes, no mind still active and wandering, elf-like.  

He’s curious. Your chest rises and falls under the blankets, your breaths even, calm. In through the nose, with the slightest snore, then out through the mouth in a warm puff. He finds himself stepping closer to the bed, transfixed.

He’s curious. That’s all. His elven eyes can make out the darting of your pupils beneath their lids, the slight parting of your lips. He leans closer, unconsciously. Perhaps you’re dreaming—and he hopes, with a sudden jolt, that you’re dreaming of him. And as though in answer, your lashes flutter restlessly, a single word escaping your parted lips: “Legolas.”

Oh, fine. He’s far more than just curious.  

Legolas is perched on the bed beside you before he is aware of it, his heart in his throat. Perhaps it meant nothing—very likely it meant nothing, for rarely was there sense to be found in mortal dreams. He should move away, and stop staring longingly at your sleeping form. You would hardly appreciate it if you knew.

Or would you? You had invited him to share the bed with you, after all.

Thoroughly defeated, Legolas slips under the covers to join you. Even in sleep, you’re enough to overpower him. And even in sleep, you turn toward him, clutching at his torso and pressing yourself close. His breath hitches.

Your hands clutch tight to his tunic as you nuzzle into his side, and Legolas curls against you, your legs tangling together. A shudder runs through his body.

He breathes in and out as evenly as he can, in imitation of you, and closes his eyes against the pillows, just as you did. Perhaps he can sleep as you do, just this once, so he can survive this overwhelming closeness. Keep his eyes shut tight and his mind closed off from the world, so he can outlast it.

It frightens him for a moment—the uncertainty of his tight-shut eyes, the lack of awareness of the wider world. How odd this mortal sleep is. It feels like a leap of faith. But your breath is warm and even against his neck, your hair soft as it splays against the exposed skin of his neck and collarbone, and his heartbeat slows, sleep—true sleep—stealing over him at last.  

This leap is an easy one to take, for he has faith in you utterly.  

My heart is at peace once more.

Should’ve Known Better II; Lee Felix

Genre: superhero!au, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

Word count: 3.2K

Warnings: mentions of injuries, mentions of a (minor) character death, kisses

Hi, loves! Guess who’s finally back with a fic :’) I am low-key nervous to post again after going on an unannounced/unintentional hiatus, but I hope you will like this part 2 of Should’ve Known Better! Don’t forget to leave feedback 🫶

Read part one HERE

Drip drop. Drip drop.

The sound of the leaking water pipe in the dark cave was slowly making Felix lose his mind the past two days. With hooded eyes, he scanned the weapons laying scattered on the tables. He wondered if the men had left them there on purpose to taunt Felix. As if to say: “if only you weren't completely beaten up, you would've been able to get the weapons and eliminate us. If only Y/n had not betrayed you and put you in chains that suppressed your powers, maybe then you'd be free now.”

Felix wiped his eye but immediately winced at the pain rushing through his face at the action. The hit he received to his right eye left it bruised.

After you left him in the cave two days ago, the men Felix had been trying to catch for a year, quickly arrived and when they saw on Felix, nasty grins covered their lips. Even though he was supposed to feel scared, and terrified even when the men started running tests on him and didn't hesitate to beat him up some more, the only thing Felix could feel was pain. And not the physical one. The only thought on his mind was you. The pain you caused him. The nonexistent love you made him believe in. With sweet words and soft touches, you led him to his own grave. You backstabbed him in the worst way possible. You broke his heart entirely.

Felix let out a ragged breath as he averted his eyes to the wound on his chest. If he wouldn't get antibiotics soon, it was going to get infected badly. And without any of his healing powers, he wasn't sure if he'd survive that. Although, surviving did not seem like a possibility anyways anymore. Felix just had a hard time accepting that. This couldn't be the end of him, right? What was the city going to do without one of its superheroes? Who was going to protect the people of Miroh against Black Venom once they acquired Felix’s powers?

A tear rolled down Felix's cheek and he closed his eyes. Maybe it was best if he died as soon as possible.  Escaping was not an option anymore and if the men would come back and run more tests on him, they had more chance to get to what they were looking for: how to copy Felix's powers and use them to their own advantage. Felix would rather die than catch sight of the damage they would do once they had the powers he owned.

The muffled sound of a small crack interrupted the silence in the cave and Felix's train of thought. He frowned but his eyes remained shut. Must have been just a rat, he thought.

Another sound entered Felix's ears, this time a louder one, and he opened his fatigued eyes. The sound seemed to have come from above him and he looked up. His eyes fell on the ceiling vent and he gradually frowned when the vent seemed to shake slightly. Felix narrowed his eyes and slowly tried to push himself up to get a closer look at where the sound was coming from.

Complete silence engulfed the cave once again but Felix did not sit back down. He slowly titled his head, his eyes scanning the vent.

All of a sudden a loud bang was heard and Felix jumped back before the vent came crashing down, missing the already injured boy by just a hair or two.

Felix's chest heaved up and down with erratic breathing as he looked at the hole in the ceiling with wide eyes.

Only a second later a person dropped from the hole and gracefully landed on both hands and feet on the cold floor.

Felix shook his head. This couldn't be-

"They should clean that space up someday," you muttered as you looked up at the ceiling you just dropped out off.

You turned to Felix and your throat immediately tightened at the sight. He looked ten times as bad as when you left him here two days ago. Dry blood stuck to the freckled skin of his face and dark blue swelling surrounded his right eye. They had stripped him off his shirt, making the large wound on his chest visible to you.

Your lower lip trembled but you quickly cleared your throat and looked away. "They beat you up well, I see."

Although he was beaten up physically, you felt like the worst damage was done mentally. His eyes seemed to be stolen of life and emotion. He was almost unrecognizable.

"What are you doing here?" Felix growled, looking up at you from the ground.

"Oh, I don't know, watch a movie and chat a little- Of course, I came to get you out of here," you quipped before looking down at him but he just frowned.

"And why on earth would I trust you? You might as well get me out of here to sell me to an even worse gang for more money," Felix retorted and you slightly winced before nodding.

"Okay, I deserved that one. I made a mistake, I know I did. But if you were in my posit-" you quickly caught yourself and swallowed your words before sighing with closed eyes. "I have no valid reason to give you to believe or trust me, but please, Felix, we do not have much time before they come back so I have no other option than to hope you'll believe me so we can get out of here," you almost begged the boy. Felix inspected you as if trying to decide whether trusting you again was the worst decision he could make. "Please," you whispered.

"Free me from these chains," Felix murmured and you froze for a second before quickly nodding.

Not even five seconds later, the locks of the chains were opened, revealing Felix's bruised wrists.

You watched him as he took deep, ragged breaths and you knew his powers were coming back to him. But with the severity of his injuries, you weren't sure his powers were able to heal him quick enough or give him enough strength to be able to fight the gang, at least now.

"You're too weak to fight them now."

Felix's wild eyes shot up at you and without thinking you took a step back. You had brought Felix into this situation, and now that his powers were back, it wouldn't be a surprise if he ended you here and now. You just had not thought about that before coming here. The only thing on your mind was Felix and the need to save him. You were blinded by guilt and by the love you wished you didn't feel for the boy.

Felix noticed the way you balled your fists and let out a bitter chuckle. "I am not going to kill you, Y/n. I am not like you," he hoarsely stated and his words hit you like a punch in the face.

You shook your head and tears pooled in your eyes. "I am not a murdered, Felix."

This made fury flash in Felix's eyes and in a sharp movement, he had you backed up against the wall with the side of his forearm horizontally pressing against your throat.

"Leaving me here to my death comes pretty close to my definition of being a murderer," Felix breathed.

You looked up at the ceiling before squeezing your eyes shut, causing a tear to escape. "You just don't understand, Felix. You never will."

Felix's jaw tightened and he inched closer to you, his nose brushing against yours.

"Try me, Y/n."

He tilted his face, his lips now almost touching yours as his arm pressed harder against your throat.

"Explain to me why you did what you did and let me be the one to decide whether I'll understand you or not," he hissed.

Felix had never scared you before.

But after betraying him the way you did, you wouldn't blame him if he did hurt you. He just told you he wouldn't kill you, but the fire in his eyes was telling you otherwise. And you couldn't be mad at him for it. Maybe you did deserve this.

He had been beaten up, starved, and run tests on. All because of you, someone he trusted, someone he loved. 

"We don't have much time left, Felix. Y-You have to trust me and let me get you out of here."

His dark eyes searched for yours and for a second a thick silence fell over the cave as you and Felix stared at each other. Another tear rolled down your cheek and Felix's eyes flickered from yours to the tear.

Slowly he let go of you and stepped back. But just as he was going to speak up, he stumbled and you quickly stepped forward to catch him. "Felix?!"

"I-I'm fine," he wearily murmured but the blue veins appearing on his face and chest told you otherwise. What was going on with him?

Your eyes flickered to the chains laying on the ground and it was only when you saw the blue liquid dripping from it, you realized Black Venom poisoned the metal.

Your eyes widened. "Oh my God, they poisoned you-"

Before he could respond, the door of the cave opened.

"Felix, get down!" You screamed.

With the last strength left in Felix's body, he ducked and you raised your arm to release a blow from your arm cannon.

The blast aimed at the Black Venom member sent the man flying against the wall behind him. Felix's eyes widened as they flickered from the unconscious man on the floor back to you with shock written all over his face.

"I'm on your side, Felix. Please believe me," you breathed, scared for the rest of the gang to arrive after hearing the combustion. Felix finally nodded.

You released a relieved breath. "Hold onto me."

Felix wrapped his arms around you and just before the rest of Black Venom came crashing into the cave, the two of you disappeared through the hole in the ceiling.

"So you know Black Venom?” Felix murmured as you finished wrapping the wound on his chest with a bandage. He was sitting down on the counter in your bathroom and watched you with dark eyes. You placed the first aid kit beside him on the counter and nodded as you prepared the shot with the antidote, avoiding eye contact with the boy.

"Before I can continue treating your other wounds, you will first need the antidote. The antidote does subdue your healing powers for a while, but without it, you won't survive for longer than a week. Therefore, I will treat your worst injuries and you will have to stay here until you're strong enough to lea-

"How?"

You looked up with a questioning expression on your face.

"How do you know Black Venom?" He asked.

You sighed, wondering if he even heard anything you just explained.

"My dad used to work for them."

Felix frowned as he watched you but stayed silent to allow you to continue.

"Growing up, my family did not have much money. We lived in the slum of Miroh. I saw how my father and mother would go to bed hungry, just so they could feed me and my siblings," you started before looking up at Felix.

"You said you didn't have family," Felix frowned.

You chuckled softly. "Because I did not want anyone to know they existed. It would only expose them to danger." Tears brimmed in your eyes but you quickly cleared your throat and held up the shot.

"This is going to hurt," you murmured.

You took a step closer to the boy, now standing in between his legs so you'd be able to have access to his neck. You immediately noticed the way he held his breath at the close proximity between you two but you tried your best to ignore it.

You placed your left hand on the side of his neck to keep it steady before piercing the needle through the skin on the right side of his neck.

Felix let out a gasp followed by a loud groan and his hands immediately shot to your waist, squeezing it tightly.

"Breathe, Felix, breathe," you whispered and after letting out a whimper, he dropped his forehead on your shoulder, loosening his grip on your waist but keeping his hands there. His chest heaved with heavy breathing and you couldn't help but entangle your left hand in his hair, softly stroking it to calm the boy down.

"Go on. Tell me more about your past. Distract me," he pleaded and you quickly nodded. 

"T-the moment I was old enough to make money, I did everything in my power to do so. When I was eleven I would sell posters, candy, flowers, anything that could give me a little bit of money to give to my parents,” you rambled before taking a deep breath. “But it wasn't enough. And that is when my father got involved with Black Venom."

Felix slightly shifted against your body but stayed silent.

"My father was a good man. He wasn't a criminal. But he needed money to keep his family alive, Felix, and working for Black Venom brought him money," you whispered and it was only when you looked at yourself through the mirror behind Felix, that you noticed the tear rolling down your cheek.

"But even if he wasn't a criminal by heart, being involved with Black Venom meant living in a dangerous underworld of criminals that could cost his life. And it did. The police shot him when I had just turned sixteen."

Felix frowned, feeling tears brim in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered against the skin of your shoulder.

You nodded, more tears falling from your eyes. "My mother was so heartbroken, she couldn't take care of my siblings and me anymore, so I knew I had to do it. I went to look for Black Venom. I hoped that because they knew my father, they could provide me and my family with some money, just enough so we could move away from Miroh and start a new life somewhere else." You scoffed, remembering how they reacted when they saw you. "I begged them on my knees, Felix. And they sent me away. Saying I was not their problem, that my family was not their problem. That my father's death was his own problem."

Felix clenched his jaw, feeling a weight of anger press onto his chest.

"And that's when I made the stupid decision of trying to steal from them. I was only sixteen and desperate, so one night I planned to rob one of their storages."

Felix raised his head to look at you, forgetting about the pain in his body from the antidote. "They caught you,” he mumbled, looking into your eyes.

You nodded. "I have been working for them ever since. They said they'd kill me and my family if I didn't."

"God, Y/n," Felix whispered.

"I'm sorry I made you fall into their trap, I am sorry I lied to you," you croaked before a sob escaped from your lips and Felix shook his head.

Your breath hitched in your throat when the boy wrapped his arms around you and pressed you against his body in a tight hug. Immediately, you buried your face in his neck, and he comfortingly stroked your hair as you cried.

"You did what you had to do to protect your family," he murmured, making you wrap your arms around Felix tightly.

"But you didn't deserve any of tha-"

"You risked your life to come back for me," Felix interrupted you with a soft voice.

Slowly, you looked up at him and searched for his eyes only to find he was already looking at you.

A thick silence engulfed the small bathroom as Felix and you looked each other in the eyes.

"I might've lied a lot to you," you quietly started, your voice hoarse. "But I never lied about my feelings."

Felix's heartbeat sped up and he held his breath.

"All of it was real. All our moments, all our kisses.. it was real, Felix."

Felix swallowed and his hand slowly made its way to cup your face, wiping the tears from your cheek with his thumb. "All of it?" He whispered carefully.

"All of it," you replied and after the three words entered Felix's ears, he closed the gap by pressing his warm lips onto yours.

Your eyes fluttered shut and your heart immediately seemed to grow a size at the familiar feeling you had missed so much. The feeling of his plush lips moving in sync with yours, the feeling of sharing his breath, of being so incredibly close to him.

You carefully placed your hands on his waist and the feeling made Felix's skin burn. His thumb stroked your cheek as he pulled away slightly only to tilt his head and capture your lips with his again.

Although you wished the moment would never end, you pulled away and rested your forehead against his. "Felix," you whispered and he hummed while trying to catch his breath.

"I-I can not stay here."

Felix opened his eyes and his eyebrows furrowed together. "What do you mean?" He breathed as he tried to look for your eyes that were avoiding his.

"Staying in Miroh is too dangerous for my family, Lix. I am planning on taking them and leaving as soon as possible."

Felix's lower lip slightly trembled as he hastily shook his head. “What? No.”

You stepped back before turning around and running a hand through your hair, not knowing what to say to him.

Felix jumped off the counter and stepped closer to you once again. "Y/n, you can't leave."

You turned around and looked at Felix with sadness painted all over your face.

"I can't lose you again," Felix stated with glossy eyes.

“But-"

"I will protect you and your family, Y/n. Now that I know everything, I can protect you. After the two days I've been in their cave, I know what Black Venom wants, I know their weak spots. I know how to fight them now, how to defeat them," Felix rambled as he took your hands in his. "I will protect your family, Y/n, I promise. Hyunjin, Minho, Han, and all the other heroes of Miroh can protect them now we know of their existence. Please trust me.”

You looked into his desperate but determined eyes and even with the fear for your family's safety still existing, you believed Felix was speaking the truth. He would keep you and your family safe. The other heroes of Miroh would help. He would be able to capture Black Venom now and you wouldn’t have to work for or run from them anymore. Things could finally get better.

"Do you promise?" You mumbled as you took a step closer to Felix.

He intertwined your fingers with his and rested his forehead against yours.

"I promise."

Three Weeks on the Nimrodel

Well, here it is. My first (and oldest) piece of fic. I'm going against my brand here by posting something set in Lorien when Rohan is really my jam. But this is the first thing I ever wrote, so it seems fitting that it should be the first posted, too.

Pairing: Haldir x reader (The reader is gender neutral beyond 2 uses of the descriptor "beautiful", which is still neutral to me but your mileage might vary.)

Genre: Romance, I guess

Summary: Two elves who are frequently misunderstood by others find the joy of having someone really see and value them for who they are.

Inspiration: This all came from the well loved gif above, in which Craig Parker does beautiful work communicating a whole emotional arc (surprise, confusion, acceptance, appreciation) when Aragorn unexpectedly shows Haldir some loving affection. In that half-second of screen time, I see an entire book of backstory about Haldir's character--about being someone who is very reserved by nature, who isn't necessarily comfortable freely expressing feelings and innermost thoughts, but who still feels deep emotional connections to others that can come out under the right circumstances. As a very reserved person myself, I can relate--if you tend to keep your thoughts and feelings close to the vest, people will make a lot of assumptions and judgments about you that probably aren't right, and that can be exhausting. When someone finally does understand you and allows you to be comfortable enough to open up on your own terms, it's a life changing experience. So that's what I tried to write.

Word count: approx 3200 (~ 6 pages)

**********

It is still early when you arrive in the center of Caras Galadhon, joining the crowd of elves waiting to find out where they will be posted for the next few weeks of guard duty. Most in the group are veteran marchwardens, deeply familiar with each other and the daily routine of life near the borders. By contrast, you are a city warden, often dedicated to the direct protection of the Lady of the Wood. But you have been asked to serve a temporary rotation on the borders while several of the regular marchwardens are away with Lord Celeborn on a visit to Mirkwood.

The change of pace is not unwelcome to you. While you love Caras Galadhon and are honored to spend time in the service of Lady Galadriel, you frequently find yourself craving distance from the city in favor of the quiet outlying areas, where it is easy to hear clear birdsong, the rustling steps of small animals scampering by, and the patter of light raindrops falling on mallorn leaves.

The crowd begins to murmur as the deputy captain appears and begins handing around sheets of paper with duty assignments. As the pages spread through the crowd, the murmurs turn to both sighs of disappointment and quiet expressions of satisfaction.

“All I want is to avoid the Nimrodel,” you overhear the elf next to you mutter to a friend of his. You recognize him as Calendil, who, like many of his companions, is well known for carousing around Caras Galadhon any time he is home on leave. As a group, the marchwardens are a boisterous company who seem always determined to pack several weeks of fun into the few days of free time they’ve been given. “Three weeks posted with the captain is more than can be asked of me.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise at this mention of Captain Haldir. You know him a little–everyone in Lorien knows the leader of the marchwardens–and have never before heard a negative word uttered about him. Your path does not often cross with his, but you admire his impressive record of achievements and have never seen him treat another elf with anything but courteous respect.

“You speak truly,” replies Calendil’s companion. “I cannot spend so much time with someone who has so little to say. That much silence is enough to drive one a little mad.”

A wave of indignation rolls through your body. It is undeniably true that Haldir is very reserved. He says little that isn’t necessary to the conduct of his duties, and what he is truly thinking behind his large blue eyes is often a mystery. But that has never seemed a negative trait to you. Indeed, you appreciate that he does not talk simply for talk’s sake and that he does not seem concerned with always making his own opinions known. What’s more, you recognize a fair amount of his inherent reserve in your own nature. If you didn’t often force yourself to satisfy others’ expectations by taking on a more outgoing, sociable persona, perhaps your own wardens would describe you just as these elves have described their captain.

Calendil’s conversation comes to an abrupt end as a copy of the assignment sheet makes its way into his hands. Peering over his shoulder, you quickly find your own name allocated to a remote post near the edge of the Dimrill Dale. A glance further down the list confirms what you already know from the quiet groan that has just escaped from Calendil’s lips: he has been assigned to the Nimrodel post.

An idea quickly forms in your head, and you tap him on the shoulder. Why should he spend three weeks feeling miserable with his posting–and, no doubt, making anyone around him miserable as a result–when you have no particular attachment to your own assignment? Calendil can go to the Dimrill Dale, and you will spend your posting with Haldir instead.

“If such a trade is permitted within your ranks, I will gladly make the exchange,” you offer. “I have always loved the river. And I have no objection to the company of someone who takes his duty seriously and does not revel in idle chatter.”

Calendil’s face registers a moment of regret as he realizes that his prior conversation has been heard by others, but it is quickly replaced by a wide, beaming smile that reflects his rapid change of fortune. “It is permitted,” he says, “and I happily accept. Remind me the next time we are both on leave, and I will reward your generosity with some of my own!”

You doubt that whatever reward he has in mind will suit your inclinations, but there is no need to worry about that now. Calendil has already sprinted off toward the deputy captain to report the change, and you turn toward home to gather your supplies.

****

Two days later, you are approaching the Nimrodel post, which is located in a lovely old mallorn tree with twisted roots that hang over the river’s edge. You raise your hand to your lips and whistle the signal. The return call echoes off the trees before a slim rope ladder drops from the branches above you. You run lightly up the rungs, making easy work of the climb to the talan perched near the great tree’s crown, where it commands a wide view of the river and much of the western section of the border.

As you hoist yourself and your pack onto the platform, you look up to see a single figure standing a few feet away. It is Haldir, leaning against the wind screen with his bow slung loosely over his shoulder and his white-blonde hair blowing gently in the breeze.You are surprised to see him there alone; wardens generally keep watch in pairs or groups of three for safety. You are there to relieve Arthalion, who is due now to return home for a break, but there is no sign of Arthalion or his things.

“Mae govannen, Captain,” you say, placing your hand on your chest and bowing your head slightly. “Is everything well?”

Haldir returns the gesture with a small smile. “Yes. It has been blessedly uneventful. Perhaps it is the threat of the weather.”

This makes sense. Just last month, an orc party attempting a surprise attack during a thunderstorm found themselves nearly washed away by sudden flooding from the Celebrant. Since then, even the hint of rain has tended to keep them at bay.

“And Arthalion? Is he out on a task?”

Haldir shakes his head. “I sent him back early. You might have passed one another in the forest except that he planned to meet a small hunting party further north. As I said, things here were quiet, and he was anxious to join his friends.” He gives a small shrug and looks down. “I will do the same for you, if circumstances allow and you desire it. I do not wish to keep anyone from their enjoyments unless duty requires it.”

You permit yourself a brief moment to wonder what Haldir’s own enjoyments might be. You have heard that he is a talented artist, making detailed pencil sketches of the forest, but he does not often show his work to others.

“That is a thoughtful offer,” you say. “But I have no pressing need to return, and I would not have you out here alone, even if there is no other elf in Lorien better able to protect himself.”

He acknowledges this compliment with a modest smile and gestures toward a small shelf where you can store your belongings. His own are few in number but neatly stacked or folded with military precision. You note that he does, in fact, have a small bundle of pencils and a notebook, but, as expected, there is no sign of any actual drawings.

After stowing your things, you settle into a position opposite him on the talan, and a silence ensues. It is of no bother to you–you’re enjoying the smell of the damp air and the touch of the light wind on your face–but you soon notice that Haldir is looking increasingly discomfited as the quiet minutes slip by. His gaze shifts frequently between the horizon, his hands on his bow, and your face.

“Was…your journey here pleasant?” His face is studiously neutral, but his voice sounds strained and he picks at a splinter on his bow. You realize that he is trying to make conversation for your benefit, to fill in the noticeable silence with casual talk that clearly does not come easily to him. You feel a sudden rush of affection for him, this intensely quiet being who is making himself uncomfortable so that you will feel welcome. You wonder how best to put him at ease.

“It was very pleasant,” you reply. “I am so rarely outside of the city these days that any chance to enjoy the forest is a gift. I can understand why being a marchwarden is an attractive job, at least during times of relative peace.”

He looks up, reappraising your face, and nods his agreement.

You hesitate before speaking again, unsure about how directly to address his uneasiness.

“Captain,” you begin, “it sounds like we may have an uneventful tour here. If that is the case, please do not feel that you are obligated to occupy my time. I am quite comfortable with quiet activity and my own thoughts and would gladly afford you space for the same if that is something you wish.”

His cheeks and ears flush slightly but, despite his apparent embarrassment at being accurately perceived, he seems immediately relieved as well. “Thank you,” he says. “If you are as good a warden as you are a reader of people, I feel myself in safe hands indeed.”

The next several days pass by peacefully. Between occasional scouting trips up or down the riverbank and regularly monitoring the view from the talan, you mostly spend the time together in companionable silence. You take turns preparing simple meals, and during breaks in the intermittent rain you make minor repairs to nearby rope bridges and other hidden defenses in the area. In the evenings, you read a book by lantern light while Haldir sits next to his own lantern and sketches in his notebook, occasionally transferring completed drawings into a closed leather folio at his side. Every so often, you both glance up at the same time, and you give him a warm smile when your eyes meet before turning back to your respective pages.

*****

One evening, as you clean up the remains of your small dinner and take out your book again, Haldir lightly clears his throat.

“That book seems to engage you much,” he says. “May I ask what it is?”

Surprised, you hold it out to him, and he takes it, examining the cover and flipping through a few pages.

“I do not recognize this script,” he says, looking at it with curiosity.

“It is a representation of Rohirric,” you tell him. “My brother was a skilled linguist who passed on some small portion of his knowledge to me. He spent many months visiting a friend in the court at Edoras and helped them to start preserving some of their oral traditions with a system of letters. This is a copy of one of his first completed projects–the story of the founding of Rohan–which he sent to me as a gift.”

Haldir looks again with renewed interest at a few pages before handing the book back to you. “Your brother sounds like an impressive scholar,” he says. “Does he remain in Rohan?”

You hesitate slightly before responding. “In a way. Two years ago an orc band in search of horses raided a village near the Limlight while my brother happened to be visiting. They caught him and his hosts unaware. The Rohirrim buried his body in a place of honor with their people, though his spirit has surely gone to Mandos.”

You relate this with downcast eyes, tracing over your brother’s name on the cover of the book with your thumb. After a few moments, you look up again, expecting to see Haldir withdrawn from the conversation. You know that many elves are uncomfortable with death, which is an unnatural state for your kind, and there is nothing in your interactions so far to indicate that Haldir will want to continue such a personal discussion. You are surprised once again, however, to find that he is looking at you intently.

“I am deeply sorry,” he says. “Working as I do, I have known many elves who met a similar fate in battle, and it is never easy. My own brothers are a treasure to me, and I cannot imagine losing them. I hope I have not contributed to your suffering by unwittingly bringing up a painful subject.”

You blink back a few tears and smile. Through your sadness, you are moved by the warmth of his response and honored that he was willing to share something personal of himself. “Of course not,” you say. “Talking about my brother is one way to keep him with me. Thank you, Captain.” You reach forward and squeeze his hand. He flinches slightly at the unexpected touch, but then gently returns the squeeze.

“Please,” he says, “call me Haldir.”

*****

After that night, things are different between the two of you. You both speak more often, tentatively at first but then with increasing comfort. You trade stories about old adventures and talk about the joys and frustrations of your daily lives. You discover that he has much to say when he finally feels more at ease. He is even quite funny, with a dry wit that you did not expect but thoroughly enjoy. You walk together in the forest and rest your feet in the waters of the Nimrodel during the day, and in the evenings he asks you to read to him from your book. You happily relate tales of Cirion and Eorl and the coming of the Northmen to Calenardhon as he draws quietly, occasionally interjecting a question or a brief comment.

The time passes quickly and easily, and soon your rotation will be at an end. You realize there is a growing pain in your heart each time you think about your imminent departure. Your old life suddenly feels dull and uninteresting to you now. You do not want to go back to a time without his companionship. You debate whether to say this to him, but you cannot imagine how he might react to such a confession. Paralyzed by uncertainty, the last days of your assignment tick by.

On your final evening, you are preparing for one last opportunity to enjoy what has become your nightly routine. Just as he is about to settle with his notepad and folio, however, he notices your canteen is empty and insists on climbing down to fill it for you. As he reaches the ground and disappears over the riverbank, the wind changes direction and a sudden gust rips across the talan, flinging back the cover of the folio and sending papers flying out in all directions. You cry out in dismay and throw yourself desperately onto the pages whipping around you, seeking to hold them down long enough to gather them safely together.

It is only after you have retrieved all the loose pages and are preparing to neatly stack them that you first look at the drawings themselves and are stunned by what you see: beautiful illustrations of the stories you’ve been reading to him, the words of your brother’s book brought to vivid life in graceful pencil lines and delicate shading. You leaf through the stack in awed amazement only to nearly drop the whole pile again when you turn a page and find an image of yourself as you must look to him each night, sitting by your lantern with your book in your lap. You keep turning pages and find more of yourself…braiding your hair first thing in the morning, standing at the wind screen and scanning the horizon, unlacing your boots at the end of a day. Your breath catches in your throat as you absorb these images. You have never looked more beautiful than you do here, seen through his eyes.

A sudden noise behind you tears your attention from the papers in your hand, and you turn to find Haldir standing there. You are immediately overwhelmed by panic and begin to stammer out an explanation for how you came to be holding his personal things, violating his privacy. “I…the wind…they were blowing away and…”. Hot tears well up in your eyes and are soon spilling down your cheeks, partly from embarrassment at the situation but mostly as the feelings you’ve been keeping pent up threaten to come flooding out all at once. “I was not trying to…I…”. An involuntary sob robs you of the ability to finish your sentence, though you aren’t sure how you would have finished it had you been able.

At the sound of your sob, he moves forward, quickly closing the distance between you. He hesitantly cups a hand under your jaw and uses his thumb to brush a tear from your cheek. “Please do not cry,” he says. “I would not ever see you in pain if it were in my power to prevent it. I am not upset. These drawings were for you, for your book. You were meant to have them, except the last few, which I hoped to keep as a reminder of these days and how happy I have been.” Your eyes snap up to his face, searching for confirmation that you have correctly understood his words.

“You know that I am not much for talking,” he continues. “But I am a very good observer. I know that you see me for who I am, just as I see you. I see all of the ways that you are kind and interesting and intelligent and beautiful. I have no expectation that you return my feelings, and if all I ever have with you are these three weeks then I will cherish the memory of these weeks through all the long ages of my life. But I would….”

Before he can complete his thought, your body reacts on its own impulse, a pure release of elation. You throw your arms around his neck and bury your face in his broad chest, still crying but now with tears of joy. You hear a sharp intake of breath as he processes your reaction, and for a fraction of a moment he stands motionless and silent before breaking into a smile and wrapping you in his arms. You could live in those arms forever, and now perhaps you will.

Stranger in my house

Pairing-Moon boys x F!reader ( Secretly Jake x f!reader) Marc Spector x f!reader/ Steven grant x f!reader

CW-18+,MDNI,Angst,Fluff,Insecurities, inaccurate depiction of DID, reader is semi aware of Jake. Protective Marc, Steven being sweet as always. Established relationship with Marc and Steven.

WK-1.6k

Summary-Snippets of a life where Jake struggles to stay in the shadows.

A/N- Dedicated to my moonknight babes. I have not forsaken you.

[Main Masterlist]

Not beta read

You notice him one day.

  A year into your relationship and Marc is fed up with Steven and yours overflowing books on the floor of the flat. “We need another bookshelf.” He grumbles at your suggestion because he would just get rid of some if he had the choice. 

  That’s how you find yourself curled up on the couch with some tea and ironically a book while you watch Marc put together the new shelf you and Steven picked out. 

  It was ornate with cherry wood accents and came with a miniature ladder to help you reach the top shelf. You didn’t think it would be too complicated but it seems as Marc stares at the pages like they are ancient hieroglyphics, you may have caused a bit more of a headache than you intended. 

  He mutters something incoherent under his breath ‘déjeme ver’. You don’t bother to ask if he needs help when the scowl on his face deepens even further into an almost unrecognizable version of your boyfriend. 

  You glance up occasionally to watch the way his back strains against the tight black t-shirt, or the way his ass looks in his jeans when he bends over. Marc and Stevens movements are so unalike and yet even now the way he stands up and straightens as he rolls his neck is so unlike Marc. 

  You stop ogling to resume your book and find yourself several chapters in when you look up to see it finished. “Oh honey, it looks so good.” 

  The look he gives you when he turns around is more of a smirk of amusement. You glance down briefly to mark your page before standing from the couch to inspect his handy work. You don’t notice the way he’s watching you as you slide your hands along the smooth wood shelves. You grab a few of your favorite books that were piled on the floor and strategically place them in some specific secret order that no one but you is privy to. 

  You turn to him and wrap your arms around his neck, waiting for him to scoop you up as he usually does. His hands hover hesitantly at your waist and then he pulls you flush against him. You almost have no room to breathe as you chuckle lightly into his neck. You swear he smells your hair before he abruptly lets you go. 

  “Hi love, do you like the bookcase?” Your sweet Steven has a slightly wild look in his eyes as waits for your response. 

  “Of course I do, we picked it out together silly.” You lean in and kiss him on the cheek and he relaxes at your touch. “If you’re listening Marc, I love it, since you disappeared on me.” 

  “Right ya…Marc. He says you're welcome.” 

  ****

  You notice one day

  You had spent all afternoon preparing a special dinner and dessert for Marc. The flat is adorned with candles and smells of fresh pasta and apple pie. 

  When Marc walks through the door you can see it written all over his face. He doesn’t say anything about you making his favorites because technically it’s not his birthday. It’s the day after. 

  You enjoy each other's company in comfortable silence as you wait for him to finish. He raises an eyebrow at you as you hand him a small box, unwrapped because then it’s not a birthday gift. 

  He opens it slowly to reveal his watch that broke months ago, the small hand ticking away right in front of his eyes. 

  You should thank her mate

  She didn’t need to do all this for my birthday 

  Well it’s technically not anymore is it? 

  He doesn’t say anything but you decide to press on with your plan. Even if it’s not exactly the reaction you were expecting at the very least he’s not protesting it. 

  “I have one more thing.” You stand from the table and head to the kitchen to retrieve the apple pie on warm in the oven. To you it’s just a dessert, a non cake related dessert that just so happened to be his favorite. Steven helped you with the vegan crust because he was not about to let Marc have all the fun. 

  You return to the table with a slice and a fork to share. He stares at it for a moment and your heart sinks a little. 

  “I know what you’re going to say…”

  He cuts you off before you can finish, he stands so suddenly it startles you. He kisses you slowly at first, savoring the way you moan into his mouth. His hand is on the back of your head and the other around your waist and it feels so different. It’s like you’re sending him off to war and this is the last kiss you’ll ever share. Your lungs burn from lack of air but you don’t want to be the first one to break. 

  He pulls away as you look up at him. His eyes are squeezed so tightly shut as he tries to catch his breath. 

  “Honey,look at me.” 

  His brow softens as he opens his eyes revealing that deep chocolate brown, with a look that could only adorn your sweet Stevens face. 

  “Thank you, love.” 

  ****

  It goes like this for a while. You noticing him…him noticing you. 

  You notice as You quirk your eyebrow at him in the kitchen when he picks out the tomato on his sandwich and drops it in the trash like it personally wronged him.  

  “I thought you liked those?” 

  He notices After a long day at work in shoes you know we’re too uncomfortable he picks up your feet and places them in his lap. He rubs them at first bordering on painful that settles into something soothing. His fingers brush the bottom of your feet and you flinch at the ticklish feeling. He tsks at you under his breath and you still your movements when you meet his unfamiliar eyes. 

  You notice When he doesn’t hear you enter the flat. He’s at the kitchen sink washing dishes, shirtless in those gray sweatpants you love. He’s humming some tune you’ve never heard as you place your things down and toe off your shoes. You didn’t mean to startle him as your cold hands met his side and he turned quickly knocking a glass off the counter. 

  “Mierda quédate ahí!” You don’t speak Spanish but you’re too stunned to move anyway. He grabs you with one arm around your waist and carries you like a duffel bag over to the couch away from the glass. 

  “Sorry love, clumsy me. I’ll get this cleaned up.” Steven doesn’t look at you as he grabs the broom from the closet. 

  ****

He notices when he slinks in through the window in the early hours. It’s still dark outside as he strips himself of his moon knight clothes, the blood only distinguishable on his hands. As he slips past you to the shower he can see your shallow breaths while you lay out flat on the bed. 

  After a while you feel the bed dip beside you as you try to calm your breathing. He wraps his arm around you as he pulls your back flush to his chest. His breath is hot on your neck and you can feel his heart beating rapidly against you. 

  “You’re a terrible faker mi amor.” Your breath hitches in your throat as he speaks the words into your ear. 

  “You have to slow down your breathing if you want to pretend to be asleep.” His voice a low growl as he places his hand on your chest. You can feel him take slow deliberate breaths as you try to match the rise and fall of his chest. ‘así’

  “This isn’t how you lay when you're asleep.” His hand leaves your body momentarily and you miss the heat of his touch. He grabs your thigh behind the knee and pushes it gently until it’s bent. His hand slowly guides you to your stomach while his other arm supports the weight of your head.‘es mejor’

  He envelopes you under the blankets and it takes all your willpower not to roll him over and straddle him. You don’t even know him. He buries his face in your neck and sniffs again inhaling your scent. You’re practically skin to skin in your satin slip dress and his bare chest and boxers. 

  “Is this okay?” His voice barely above a whisper as you nod your head. His lips ghost over your back before he kisses your shoulder. It’s those soft sleepy kisses adorning your body until the real sleep claims you both. 

  ****

  You awake to the feel of cold sheets beside you as you feel around for him. A sliver of light hits the room from the bathroom door slightly ajar. 

  “I swear to god Jake, if you fuck this up.” Jake 

  It’s mostly Marc speaking idle threats as you listen in to a one sided conversation. Whatever his reservations may be, it's none of your business. You do know that he would never do anything intentionally to fuck this up. 

  Your boyfriend exits the bathroom still dressed only in his black boxers. “Love…we need to talk to you about something.” 

  He sits on the edge of the bed as he rubs circles on your legs under the sheets. 

  “I know.” 

  They knew…it’s why they can’t be mad when you finally talk about the stranger. You fell in love with him a long time ago. The one they tried to keep a secret. He no longer wanted to be kept in the dark. He loves you too much. This stranger in your house. 

@chichimisaki @simpforbritgents @casa-boiardi @missdictatorme @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @melodygatesauthor @missbeverlyhills

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

Dejeme ver-Let me see

Mierda quedate ahi-Shit stay there

Asi- just like that

Es mejor- that’s better