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profound-boning · 5 years

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With Conviction

for the @profoundnet exchange theme: fairytale pairings: destiel word count: 8.2k tags: no warnings apply, historical/royalty au, fairytale elements, love at first sight ao3

Once upon a time, a simple encounter changes the course of two boys’ lives forever.

It all begins at the market. Cas makes his way through the bustling crowd easily. There is fresh bread at this stall as well as sweets, which he knows his father enjoys very much. When he purchases the vegetables his mother asked for, he also gets himself an apple. Biting into the ripe fruit, he looks around and plans where he might walk next.

Then, suddenly, he hears a commotion at a nearby stall.

“Wait, no, wait!” a young man shrieks. That grimy bastard Alastair is holding his arm tightly, the pale skin of his delicate forearm clearly visible. “I wasn’t stealing!”

Alastair laughs. “Sure you weren’t. I’ve half a mind to take your hand either way and then it’s a warning for you and a trophy for me.”

“Sir, I’ve no need to steal your wares, I wasn’t stealing. But-but I will pay you for them if it pleases you.” The boy tries to tug his arm away but he can’t, his eyes are wide and terrified.

“If it pleases me,” Alastair mocks him. Then, his eyes move up and down his figure lecherously. Cas can’t really see anything beneath the huge cloak, but he’s clearly a fit young man in his twenties. “Y’know what would please me…”

“Leave him alone.” Cas inserts himself between them, glaring. “Don’t you have better things to do, old man?” He represses a shiver at the way Alastair had been leering.

Alastair just sneers at him. “Mind your own damn business.”

“And you pick on someone your own size. Otherwise, it’s just embarrassing.” Cas scoffs and ushers the stranger away as quickly as he thinks they can escape. After a few steps, he takes the other man’s hand in his and tugs him down a narrow alleyway. When they emerge on the other side, he turns sharply and walks them briskly through another section of the market, not stopping until they reach the fountain. There, he finds them a place to sit on the edge of the basin.

He sits first and finally gets a chance to look at the person he’s just removed from Alastair’s clutches. He’s just a boy, really, can’t be any older than Cas himself. He’s pale with freckled skin and a pair of green eyes, wide and soft, above his perfectly straight nose and rosebud lips. No wonder he’s wearing a hooded cloak in the summer heat, this boy would’ve attracted attention from any of the more nefarious salesmen at the marketplace if more people had seen his beautiful face.

Cas realizes that he’s been staring and he tries not to blush. He gestures to the space next to him and is grateful when the other boy sits there. He seems to be staring right back.

“Hi,” the boy finally says. “Thank you.”

“Oh, it was nothing. Guy’s a creep.”

“Yeah.” His smile might be the prettiest one Cas has ever seen. “I… Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. My name is Cas.”

His nose scrunches with what Cas thinks might be confusion. “Cas, huh? Is that a nickname?”

“No, not as far as I know, anyway. Just been Cas my whole life.”

The boy grins at him. “Well, I believe it suits you.”

Cas returns the smile, feeling warm in the summer sunshine sitting next to the cutest boy in the kingdom. “So, will you tell me your name and what brings you to these parts?” he asks. “I feel like I would remember having met you before.”

“O-oh,” the boy stammers, looking shocked. “I’m…Dean.”

“Are you sure?” Cas laughs at his hesitation. It just earns him another crooked grin.

“Yes, I’m Dean. Pleased to meet you.” He extends his hand to Cas, who takes it, shaking it vigorously between his own. “And I live…a ways away, I don’t often get the opportunity to visit the market.”

“Really?” Cas says. “That’s a shame. I insist on showing you all of the best vendors, then, if this is to be our only meeting.”

“I hope that it is not,” Dean says softly, shyly, and Cas feels overwhelmed with joy. Beaming, he stands and takes Dean’s hand back.

“Come on then, there’s a lot to see!”

: : : : :

Dean hoists himself over the railing of his balcony, panting with the effort. This damned cloak was far too hot to wear outside today, but there’s no way to avoid wearing it. If he were to be caught…

“So.” The voice startles him badly and Dean almost hits his head on the hard stone. His little brother Sam is leaning against the huge glass door with a stormy expression on his face. “Had fun today, did you?”

“Sammy.” Dean rushes to his side, looking past him into his chambers. “What’s going on?”

“You snuck out again!” He hits Dean in the shoulder with all of the force a scrawny fourteen-year-old can muster. “If Mom saw you, she’d be so mad.”

“And that’s why we’re not going to tell her, isn’t that right, string bean?”

“Ugh!” Sam pushes him away and stomps into the room, knocking one of Dean’s books off of the couch in order to throw himself down on it dramatically. “You never let me come with you but you always want me to lie for you and it isn’t fair!”

Dean winces. “Look short stuff, you can come with me when you’re older. When I’m king, you can do whatever the hell you want. But right now we’re both a little trapped here. And I gotta watch my own back out there. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Sam pouts some more but Dean knows he just needs time. He knows that Sam doesn’t like being cooped up any more than he does.

“What do you say we go riding tomorrow?” he says, watching Sam fight the oncoming smile at his words.

“Just you and me?”

“Bobby’s allowed it before. We could ask him to go to the Western Wood again.”

“Let’s do that.” Sam nods decisively. “Did you see anything interesting today?”

Dean thinks about a gorgeous boy with blue eyes who held his hand all morning and he says no.

[ Read the rest on ao3 ]

#profoundnet #pbexchangefairytale #thebatsquad #asexualcas #ozonecologne #pbwrites #publicado #fic #au #destiel #royalty!au #fantasy!au

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destieltropecollection · 6 years

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2019 Trope Selection

The trope selection phase is here! I have a list of about 40 tropes and will be picking the top 30 once they have been voted on.

VOTE HERE!!

please reblog to spread the word (even if you don’t fill it in)

#destielfanficnet #destiel #thebatsquad #thespngraphicmakersnet #spneditsnet #Fanfic #destiel fanfic #destiel trope collection #DTC 2019

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multifandomcreationschallenge · 5 years

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MULTIFANDOM CREATIONS CHALLENGE - MAY 2019 - ROUND 31

Welcome to the thirty-first round of the Multifandom Creations Challenge! This challenge is now open to all creators from all fandoms, as long as you are able to create for your fandom! For this month, our theme is: COLOURS.

TO ENTER:

Reblog this post until April 30th.

Send us an ask saying ‘participating for May + your chosen fandom + what you’ll be making’. (e.g. graphic, gifset, poem)

If we do not receive your ask, you will not receive a prompt.

You can follow the official challenge blog and track the tag #multifandomgc for updates, but this is not mandatory.

By May 2nd, we will reply to your message with your prompt.

The deadline for this round will be May 31st.

Tag your graphic with #multifandomgc within the first five tags.

Your work should have a caption that includes a link to the challenge blog and your URL.

For an example caption, check out the official blog.

If you find yourself unable to post on time, send us a message as soon as possible.

FINALLY:

Your graphic will be reblogged to the official challenge blog.

There are no winners or losers, this is purely for fun!

For more information, please check out the official blog.

#multifandomgc #thespngraphicmakersnet #visualresourcesnet #thebatsquad #entry #envydean

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galaxystiel · 11 months

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put up your hands (say i don’t wanna be in love)

Written for @sterekweekly for the prompt ‘midnight’.

Summary: Stiles had even made dessert, a (slightly lopsided) coconut rum cake, knowing Derek had a sweet tooth he would never admit to. A little more effort than Stiles would normally go to, but he’d figured if he couldn’t push the boat out for their anniversary, then when could he? Teen | 2.3k

[Read on AO3]

Stiles counted along with the clock, the second hand ticking ever closer to twelve. Five, four, three, two…

Midnight.

Dinner had gone cold hours ago, the remains of his mom’s lasagna a congealed mess in the dish at the centre of their table. Small, battery-operated tea lights that were barely aglow now. Pinpricks of light, like little fireflies surrounding a failed disaster of a dinner date. While Derek had never said anything about a disdain for open flames indoors, Stiles had thought it was better safe than sorry, and this was a nice compromise. Romantic atmosphere without the fire hazard or a mess of molten wax.

He’d even made dessert, a (slightly lopsided) coconut rum cake, knowing Derek had a sweet tooth he would never admit to. A little more effort than Stiles would normally go to, but he’d figured if he couldn’t push the boat out for their anniversary, then when could he?

But Derek hadn’t come home at all.

Stiles finally dragged his eyes away from the clock and let his shoulders slump. He wasn’t angry. It wasn’t fair to blame Derek for being busy at work. It’s not like Stiles had told him that he was going to try and do something special. Although Derek had promised he’d be home for dinner.

It wasn’t a lie, Stiles told himself. Derek had obviously intended to come home on time. Something must have just come up. Something so clearly important that meant he couldn’t even call. Right? Right.

He wasn’t angry. He was just tired and a little bit humiliated. Clearly, he’d put a little more—not value, that wasn’t the right word, he knew Derek valued him—sentiment, yeah, behind their anniversary than was reciprocated. Which was, not fine, not even expected but it was… yeah. It was what it was.

Something ached deep in Stiles’ chest and the chair scraped back against the floor as he scooped up all of the tea lights in hands that were totally not shaking, fingers that were absolutely, completely steady as he found their off switches. He tossed them in the trash can and then, upon thinking about Derek potentially finding them, crumpled a few paper towels and stuffed them on top.

Dessert was still in the fridge and the lasagna joined it, carefully wrapped in foil. No point in letting it go to waste, maybe Derek could take it to the station tomorrow and share it with the Sheriff. It wasn’t the healthiest of meals, but hey, his dad was allowed a cheat day every now and then, particularly when his son was suffering from a broken heart.

“Okay, enough,” Stiles muttered, waggling his fingers in front of his face. Broken heart, seriously? “You’re being pathetic, Stiles. It’s just freakin’ dinner. Derek loves you the other three hundred sixty four days of the year. There shouldn’t be anything important about this one.”

Except, there kinda was? This marked a year to the day they’d first admitted how great they could be together, and put their absolute trust in each other as their relationship had taken the next step. Stiles had just wanted to commemorate that. Even just seeing Derek for more than the ten minutes they’d overlapped at breakfast, before Derek’s shift started. He refused to feel bad that he wanted a little more than that, just for today.

Weariness took over, and Stiles abandoned his cleaning up of the kitchen in favour of making his way to the bed he and Derek had shared for six months now. He stopped abruptly in the doorway and swayed, looking at the rumpled sheets and feeling his lip quiver. Suddenly, the thought of spending the night in their bed alone seemed like the most awful thing he could imagine. A shaky exhale left his lips, and then Stiles turned abruptly on his heel, bounding back down the stairs and snatching his keys from the sea glass bowl near the front door.

Roscoe seemed to know he wasn’t in the mood for her games tonight, engine roaring to life at the simple flick of his wrist. He drove, trying to force the buzzing thoughts in his head to quieten down as he followed the trail of street lamps. Even under their glow, the world looked awash with grey. Colourless, lifeless, numb.

Stiles kind of knew the feeling.

He didn’t really have a destination in mind, but when he found himself idling outside of his childhood home, he supposed he’d probably known where he was heading the whole time. The sight of the cruiser was both welcome and unwelcome, and Stiles rested his head against the steering wheel, taking a deep breath.

When he let himself in with a key he barely used anymore, he was greeted with the sight of his dad halfway out of the living room, summoned by the sound of the door.

“Stiles? It’s almost one in the morning, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Dad,” Stiles choked, and then he was falling forward into strong arms, and tears were stinging his eyes but he wouldn’t let them fall, he wouldn’t cry. Not over this. He inhaled, long fingers grasping the back of his dad’s shirt, holding him tightly.

Distantly, Stiles registered that if his dad was still in uniform, he couldn’t have been home long. His theory had been right. Something had cropped up on duty that kept both his dad and Derek later than planned. Usually, he’d be bugging one of them to find out what happened, but right now Stiles didn’t care. Because he realized that if his dad was home, Derek was probably on his way too, and would discover Stiles’ absence at any moment.

“Can I just stay here tonight? Please?” He hated how soft and pleading his voice came out. Hated that he couldn’t handle this like an adult and face his problems head on.

But his dad held him just that little bit tighter and Stiles could have wept with relief.

“Of course you can, son, you never have to ask. Didn’t take your key, did I? The bed’s always made up for you.” He pulled back and his face went through three different expressions of reluctance before he asked, “You break up with Derek?”

Stiles’ breath caught in his throat, and the words came out thickly. “No.” He shook his head. “No, of course not. I just—can we not do this now, dad? Can’t it be enough that I’m mad at him right now and I want to stay here tonight?”

“Of course it can. Go on, get some sleep, kid.”

Stiles mumbled something that was both thanks and a goodnight and trudged his way up the stairs. The sheets didn’t smell right, now he’d gotten used to the unscented fabric softener that Derek preferred, and they were a little musty from disuse. That, together with the rampant emotions thrumming in every part of his chest, suggested that sleep would be a long time coming.

But almost as soon as Stiles closed his eyes, the world faded to nothing.

* * *

He wasn’t sure what woke him up.

It was still dark, so he hadn’t been asleep long. There was no clock by his bedside anymore, a reminder that this familiar bed wasn’t where he should be waking up.

His eyes flicked to the window out of habit, and he watched as it began to close, slowly and silently. Stiles squinted blearily into the darkness, but he couldn’t make out anything more than a shadow outside his window. But that was enough.

“Derek,” he whispered. The window stopped moving, little more than three inches between the sash and the sill. The silence was deafening, and for a moment Stiles held his breath, wondering if a reply would come at all.

“I was just making sure you were here.” Derek’s voice was quiet, and Stiles couldn’t even convince himself that it was out of consideration for the late hour. Even beyond that, he could hear the misery in every syllable. “You weren’t supposed to wake up. I know you don’t want to see me right now, but I—I just needed to know you were somewhere safe.”

Stiles sat up, wrapped the top blanket around himself and shuffled over to the window. He didn’t open it, just sat on the floor, his cheek pressed to the jamb. He could feel the light presence of air drifting through the gap. It wasn’t particularly cold, but Stiles shivered anyway.

“I should have left a note,” he said eventually. “It wasn’t my intention to make you worry.”

The reply that came was filled with bitterness and self-loathing. “I could say the same. I should have called. I should have been home,” Derek corrected himself. “I saw—I found—I’m sorry.”

The words didn’t heal the wounds the evening had left deep within Stiles’ chest, but they were a stepping stone. This was Derek reaching out, and now it was up to Stiles to meet him halfway. He reached up, fingers scrabbling as he pushed the window upwards, opening it fully. His motions were far less quiet than Derek’s, but he didn’t care.

He shuffled back as one leg stepped inside the window, followed by another, and then Derek’s head ducked through. His face was drawn, visible even when half-shrouded in shadow. There was tension in every line of his body and he made no move to enter the room further, just hovered by the window as if he would be made to leave at any moment.

And hell if that didn’t sweep the air from Stiles’ lungs. After all this time, Derek should never be unsure of his welcome. Not with him.

His fingers curled into the knee of Derek’s grey sweatpants and he tugged lightly enough to make his point clear. He acquiesced instantly, legs folding beneath him as they both settled on the floor. Even though Derek didn’t need it, Stiles loosened his grip on the blanket and haphazardly threw a corner around Derek’s shoulders.

“I didn’t forget.” When Stiles looked nonplussed, Derek clarified, “The date. I know you think I did, but you’re wrong. There’s a card in the Camaro. It has a stupid pun on it. I thought it would make you laugh.”

It probably would have. Stiles would have been delighted at Derek’s attempt at humour. He would have probably had it framed, to hang in their bedroom for years to come.

“That helps,” Stiles admitted. “But it doesn’t make everything better. I felt, no, I feel like an idiot for caring so much about this. And it’s ridiculous because I knew who you were when we got together. I didn’t expect rose petals and candles and slow dancing. I just wanted to see you.”

Silence. Stiles knew he’d somehow said the wrong thing because he could feel the sadness rolling off Derek in waves.

“What did I say?”

“Nothing.”

Stiles’ hand flew out and he flicked on the lamp. When his eyes recovered from the sudden flare of brightness, he squinted at Derek. “Are you actually pouting right now?”

“No.” Derek raised his eyes to the ceiling petulantly, pursing his lips.

Stiles barked out a laugh and poked Derek in the bicep. “You are totally pouting. What did I say? Tell me. You know I won’t quit until you do.”

“I could do all of that if that’s what you wanted,” Derek ground out with no small amount of reluctance. “It doesn’t make me feel good when you say you don’t expect me to do the whole romance thing.”

“You literally just called it ‘the whole romance thing’, dude, that doesn’t instil hope. And given that I can’t even get you to show up for dinner when you agreed to it, why would I hold my breath for wooing?”

Derek’s eyes flashed blue, his hands curling into fists as he turned his guilt-ridden face away. Stiles closed his eyes. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. And I didn’t mean it, really I didn’t. I’m just lashing out because I’m embarrassed. You know you romanced the hell out of me when we started dating. That wasn’t what I meant. I was trying to express that I didn’t expect our anniversary to be a huge deal in general. I just wanted to acknowledge that it happened, because it was the day the world gave me you.”

Derek swallowed, and Stiles watched as the tension unfurled from his body. He idly picked at a stray string at the hem of his sweatpants, before clumsy fingers reached out and curled over Stiles’. A peace offering, a gesture of forgiveness and a request for forgiveness of his own at the same time.

Stiles threaded their fingers together and held on tightly.

“You already had me,” Derek said. He rubbed his thumb over Stiles’ knuckles. “Fate or the universe or anything else had no part in it. I do like knowing that’s how you see it, though.”

“How do you see it?”

“I remember it as the day I realized that you were going to keep fighting at my side like you belonged there, and it first occurred to me that you did.”

The threat of tears stung Stiles’ eyes, and he raised their joined hands together to lightly brush his lips over the back of Derek’s hand.

“I love you.”

“Yes,” Derek said, then cautiously added, “Does that mean you’ll come home?”

Stiles nodded, and pressed his forehead to Derek’s shoulder, basking in the warmth. “I was always coming home.” He cast a look over his shoulder at his childhood bed and sighed. “I’m not waking my dad up after his late night. You’ll have to squeeze in beside me and suffer in a single bed for one night.”

The smile that spread over Derek’s face was fond, genuine. Its sudden appearance made the ache in Stiles’ chest finally settle, even as his heart betrayed him and embarrassingly skipped a beat. He flushed, not even needing to look at Derek to know he’d heard it and the smile was widening into a dumb grin.

“Stupid werewolf hearing,” Stiles huffed and slid back into his bed, making space for Derek to join him. “Get in the bed before I change my mind. And you’re buying me a nice dinner tomorrow. And don’t think I’ve forgotten about my card, I want my dumb punny card, Derek.”

Derek kicked off his shoes, sliding under the covers and wrapping his arms around Stiles. Stiles wriggled closer, sighing as Derek pressed a gentle kiss to his neck, and then nuzzled the same spot sweetly.

“Anything you want,” he promised.

If you liked it, please consider leaving me a comment or kudos on AO3, or reblogging here!

#sterekweekly #sterekweeklymidnight #sterek #teen wolf #thebatsquad #I have no idea how to tag things for this fandom #but here I wrote something have it

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envydean · 3 years

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Like a force to be reckoned with A mighty ocean or a gentle kiss I will love you with everything I have (x) Atlas: Two ~ Sleeping At Last

#spncreatorsdaily #thespngraphicmakersnet #thebatsquad #spngraphic #destiel #15x18 #Supernatural #Supernatural Spoilers #spnedit #edit #destieledit #this is version 10 #am about to throw my laptop so here have it before I break something #It's not perfect #but I worked so hard #sleeping at last lyrics

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tarnishedpoet · 3 years

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Happy Birthday, Jensen Ross Ackles!

#thespngraphicmakersnet #visualresourcesnet #thebatsquad #userpris #spncreatorsdaily #spncastedit #jensenedit #spncast #jensen ackles #spngraphics #my graphics #edits #happy bday jackles

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jasperwhitlock · 4 years

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Multifandom Creations Challenge | @jasperwhitlock Prompt: Female Characters

#multifandomgc #thespngraphicmakersnet #visualresourcesnet #thebatsquad #comicedit #marveledit #marvel #x men #storm #ororo munroe #mine #graphics

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fikidurin · 3 years

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The Definition of Love [AO3] Part 3 of the Prison of Blood ‘verse (Serial Killer AU)

When the call came, Fili had been on his way to work.

He listened, expressionless, emotionless, to what the stranger on the other end of the phone told him. “I see,” he said, eventually.

There was a pause. “Mr. Oakenshield?”

Right. That wasn’t how normal people reacted to such news. “I… I apologise. I’m feeling a bit… shocked. I’ll be there shortly.”

Fili hung up the phone before the caller could say anything else, redialling another number completely from memory. Thankfully, the universe seemed to be on his side and instead of reaching a colleague, he instead heard the click of an answering machine.

“It’s Fili Oakenshield. I’m afraid I won’t make it into the office today, my partner has been in an accident. I’m on my way to the hospital.”

The words were so clinical, but right now that was all that holding him together. Most emotions were foreign to Fili, but this one he knew all too well.

Rage.

Yet that rage would serve no purpose when Fili had no release, and would be unlikely to obtain a release any time soon. For now, he had to push it aside.

He made it to the hospital in record time. Probably broke a few speeding laws on the way there, and probably didn’t have enough change for the extortionate parking fees, but all of that was irrelevant.

The only thing relevant was Kili.

Fili pushed his way to the front of the queue and locked eyes with the receptionist. “Kili Durin.”

He watched her eyes flicker to the grumbling people behind him and opened her mouth. His eyes narrowed, and Fili felt no small sense of satisfaction as she seemed to think better of what she was about to say and turned her attention to her computer.

“Ward 5C, room 3. Follow the overhead signs.”

Fili gave her a brusque nod and stalked away. His hands curled into fists and he shoved them into his pockets, trying to rein in a fury that threatened to tear him apart.

If Fili could feel grief, he might have wept at the sight of Kili’s unconscious form.

But he could not. All he felt was his control rapidly spiralling, and he hated every second of it. It was all because of Kili. Before he’d entered into this… domestic arrangement, before the convenient alibi had become something more, weakness had never been a word Fili applied to himself.

Now, he was weak. He was weak because the rage he’d kept a lid on for his whole life was at risk of spilling out, and it was all because of Kili.

It was all because Fili had taken a jagged knife and carved out the chasm where his heart should be, and Kili had filled that void with a love that had contaminated the rest of him. What once was clinical and composed, was now anything but.

His train of thought was lost as Kili stirred, his eyes cracking open. The brown pools were a stark contrast to the pallid skin, almost entirely devoid of colour. “You came.”

Fili glared at him. “Obviously,” he ground out. “What happened?”

“Accident,” Kili’s voice was feeble, tired. “There was a car, it mounted the pavement.”

An accident. A simple accident had almost cleaved Kili from his life. Fili took a huge breath and let it out in shuddering increments. Someone would pay for this.

“No,” Kili said, a little more firmly. “I can hear you plotting from here. Fee, it was an accident. Please.”

Fili wasn’t going to make any such promise, but Kili was hurt and not in a position to argue. He clenched his jaw. “We’ll talk about it when you’re home,” he relented. That was the only concession he could make right now.

Kili’s hand reached out slowly, fingers turned up in invitation. Fili took it without hesitation, and felt some of his anger dissipate at the warmth of Kili’s skin.

“You’re mad,” Kili said.

Fili stared at Kili, wondering if perhaps there was some additional brain damage the nurse had neglected to inform him of. He wondered if maybe Kili had missed the obvious way he had invaded every aspect of Fili’s life. That by accepting him, he had become part of Fili’s ritual as well as part of his life. And the universe had dared try to take Kili from him.

“I think I have a reason to be. You were almost killed.”

“Careful,” Kili slurred. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were in love with me.”

Fili’s hand twitched in Kili’s, and for an instant he thought about withdrawing, considered turning away. For the very first time, he felt what might have been construed as shame. Shame that he couldn’t love Kili as he deserved. That anyone else would be distraught right now, but Fili’s primary emotion was fury.

A thousand different responses ran through his head, but he settled on one. “You should leave me, you know. Find someone who can give you what you deserve.”

Even with his eyes half-closed, almost delirious with pain, his face almost as white as the pillow beneath him, Kili managed a brilliant smile.

“Did your morphine kick in?” Fili asked, dryly. “Or are you just relishing the thought of getting away from me?”

Kili hummed, sleepily. “The morphine. But you do love me.”

“You know that… you know I don’t. I can’t,” Fili hissed, and the hand that wasn’t entwined with Kili’s clenched tightly. “I told you, I do feel a… a bond towards you. I like being around you. It tempers me. You make every day a little less unbearable. But that’s all.”

Kili didn’t reply immediately, and Fili wondered if he’d fallen asleep. “You stupid man,” Kili breathed, as the morphine overtook him. “That’s what love is.”

Neither of them brought up Kili’s words again while he remained in the hospital.

But Fili thought of nothing else. Every night when he lay alone in a bed that suddenly seemed much too cold, much too large, he reflected on Kili’s words.

Was that truly how it was, to love someone? Fili didn’t think so. He’d never been able to fathom it as a concept. From birth, he should have unconditionally loved his mother, his father. He had not. He had looked at them and felt nothing but appreciation for their convenience.

So how could it be that Kili was so convinced that what Fili felt for him could be love?

The thoughts consumed him, and it was only when Kili returned to their home that Fili found the answer.

“Tell me you love me,” he demanded, kneeling at Kili’s feet and laying a possessive hand across his knee.

Kili smiled softly. “I love you,” he replied.

“I like hearing that,” Fili confessed. “It thrills me. I can’t understand the way you feel, but I know that it excites me, as if I possess you. That part of you has surrendered to me willingly, and accepts me for what I am. Each time you say those words, it’s a reminder of that satisfaction.”

Kili nods, curiously. “I think I understand.”

“I’ve been thinking about what you said. That what we have, what I feel for you, is love. I think that out of the two of us, you’re the best person to make that judgement.” Fili trails off, trying to gather the words to explain what he’d come to realise.

“I can’t say if you’re right, Kee. I don’t know if you are. But I know that your place in my life is both irrevocable and irreplaceable, and you deserve to know that. You deserve to hear it. So if that is what you believe love to be, then I love you.”

Kili leaned down and kissed him.

When they finally broke apart, Fili’s hand came up to grasp Kili’s chin, fingers tight as he gazed into Kili’s eyes. “You know that means I’ll kill you if you ever leave me.”

Kili shuddered, and Fili got the distinct impression that was less of a threat than he’d intended it to be. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Then Kili kissed him again, and any further threats Fili might have made were forgotten.

#durincest #fiki #thebatsquad #tolkien #the hobbit #fiki100 #my writing

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