#’how do you feel about standing together and staring into the wind and snow and sniffing. why are you shaking.’

[theminecraftbee]

I love my dog. however as a golden retriever she was bred to be comfortable swimming in the chilly lakes of scotland retrieving ducks, and therefore comes with two waterproof coats built in. she thrives in the cold. she loves the snow. I was built to huddle under three blankets in front of a computer and suffer when it’s cold. I am allergic to winter. I have to take supplements or I go crazy.

which is to say: it’s 18 degrees, snowy, and dark. and my dog and I are having a Difference Of Opinion,

[makaylaloves-words]

Jason Todd thought his need for touch had died with him.

Part two!!

here’s part one

Pairing: Jason Todd x afab reader

TW: Loss of virginity (male), nsfw, pinv, religious imagery, body issues mentioned.

1.7k words

The sun comes dreadfully early. Bright butter yellow beams forcing Jason away from the oasis that is your embrace. You kiss his forehead then head to get ready for work. You start your usual routine, unaware of his recurring thoughts. Usually, he will wake up a little slower then go to make breakfast while you get ready. Today he lingers like the last bits of snow as winter fades into spring.

He watches you come out of the bathroom after your shower, music still playing from your phone. Music he will never admit to liking but listens to when he misses you. Your perfect skin slightly damp as you put on that lotion that makes him want to take a bite out of you.

Clad in only your underwear and bra, hair up in a towel, you pick your outfit for work and start on your makeup. Humming and dancing to your music. He stands.

He’s silent as he approaches, a huge sleepy figure looming behind you.

“Hi” you chirp, rubbing lotion into your skin.

“I want to have sex with you.”

You slowly turn, eyes wide. “Well good morning to you, too.” he swallows but doesn’t back down.

“I kinda have work” you blink.

“I- I didn’t mean right now. Just soon.” he says and your heart picks up. “Okay, honey, soon.”

You step closer and lift on your toes to peck his cheek. You let your hand linger on his bare chest, his hips against you in a way you can feel as hard he is. It gets you drunk on power to know how little it takes for you to do that to him.

Four nights later, it’s the usual routine but something’s off. He goes out on patrol for a few hours and you get finish up some work and make dinner. You eat together then he showers while you wind down. You’ve been dating over a year so naturally you’ve seen eachother naked but he’s always been a little secretive about his body. That’s why you’re very surprised when he walks into your bedroom in just his towel around his waist. Raven hair still damp and water droplets clinging to the scared tissue of his muscled chest. As anyone would eyes would, you give him a good stare down. He looks.. nervous.

“Something wrong?” you finally say.

“Now.” he says

“Now.. what?” your head tilts

He looks away, swallowing in embarrassment.

“I want to have sex.”

Oh.

Oh.

“I- uh right now?” you nearly laugh. You have been on a dry spell ever since you started dating Jason so honestly just him shirtless has got you hot and bothered but he doesn’t need to know that.

“I’ve made you wait this long” he nods and steps towards the bed. you stand, arms looping around his neck like a perfect ribbon. “You’ll help me know what to do?” he whispers and you smile “of course.”

Turns out you really have to tell him what to do. You don’t know if you pity the guy or are proud because he’s clearly never watched porn or anything of the sort.

“Just kiss me firs-” you instruct and before you can finish the words his lips are on yours. He’s grown a lot in his kissing ability. From small pecks on your forehead to now as he tangles his tongue with yours. Jason hooks his arms under your thighs and lifts you with practiced ease. Your legs wrap around his hips and his hands hesitantly inch towards the back of your thighs. You nod against as your mouth works on his and his hands slide to grip your ass, holding you to him. He groans.

The towel is slipping off his hips and you can feel an anticipation that you haven’t felt in so long coursing through you, straight to your gut.

“Are you sure about this? You can change your mind.” you say, pulling back. your chest is heaving and you know his answer as he licks a stripe up your neck.

He slowly steps forward, setting you on the bed and looking at you like you’re a goddess who just offered him immortality. “Do i sit down or-“ he bites his lip and you giggle. “We can just do missionary.” he blinks in confusion. “i’ll lay down” you add, stripping your shorts and scooting back on the bed.

You strip your shirt and look up. He’s staring at you in a way you’ve seen very few times. He’s flushed, pupils dilated and hands gripping the towel on his hips so hard his knuckles are white. “Um you come over here now” you swallow as he drops the towel and crawl towards you.

For a long time, Jason thought he was disgusting. A foul ugly creature who rose from the dead and doesn’t deserve a single thing he has. You, however, have never understood this. He is beautiful. Greek god level. You can feel the arousal on your thighs as you bite your lip.

He leans down and kisses you again, hard length pressed against your bare stomach as you start taking off the rest of your clothes.

It’s a charming process in the way that it’s kinda clumsy. You haven’t done this in a while and well Jason’s literally a virgin so it takes you a couple tries to get your bra and underwear off.

He breaks the kiss to look down at you. Eyes trialing over your breast as he rests his hands on your ribcage. “You are beautiful” he whispers and you smile shyly. “You too” he blushes.

Both naked as the day you were born, he gulps “So do i just-“

“pretty much”

He gives himself a few strokes, dark lashes fluttering before he leans to you and presses against you. An inch in and he bites his lips. “God” he whines and you smile. he’s larger than most and you revel in the stretch as he pushes more.

“Oh i understand now” he mutters, hands fisting the sheets by your head.

“Understand what?” you say with a small whimper.

“Why people enjoy this so much” he cuts his words off with a moan as he pushes in a bit more.

With a final gasp from him, he’s all the way in and he swears he’s in heaven. He’s never been a very religious person but if there is a god then it is you and this fucking pussy. He groans, hands gripping the sheets beside your head as your hands delicately grasp his wrists.

“You can move” you say quietly, eyes loving as you look up at him.

“I-“ he should move. he knows he should but he is already close to coming and he doesn’t wanna come that fast. You’re just so warm and wet and tight and- oh no.

no no no.

you shift your hips, forcing his dick to rock in and out of you. It barely even moves. “Fuck, no—sto—"

Jason grunts. Chokes on it. 

you do it again, just the softest roll of your hips. “Baby, you don’t understand” he groans, arms shaking beside your head. “It’s okay” you coo, “it’s normal just- please” he swallows. yes he didn’t want to be the guy who blew it like a two pump chump but it’s true he wanted you to feel good to. god, he wants that more than his own pleasure. So, he moves.

A small thrust, just the last 2 inches coming out and in but he whines and turns his head away. You smile, “Hey. look at me, pretty boy”. he groans and looks down at you. god you look like a fucking angel.

He’s nearly drooling as he shudders and thrusts a few more times. Then he stops, “What are you doing?” he gulps.

You blink up at him. It’s true your hand had snaked down and drew a few circles around your clit but that was not a crime.

“I-“

“Show me how.”

“What?”

“That thing you’re doing. Feels good? Show. me. how.” Jason’s words would sound like a demand if he wasn’t bright red and pussy drunk. And instead of getting all butt hurt, he’s asking you to teach him and-

—and oh, isn’t your heart melting into a puddle.

You gently take one of his hands off the sheets next to him and guide his thick calloused fingers to your clit. “Just- circles or press a little.” you say, words cutting out with a moan when he rubs your clit. good to know he was a fucking natural. His eyes are glued to where his cock is pressed into you and he gulps before continuing his ministrations on your clit. Then he thrusts at the same time. You both moan in sync and he smiles, “���m doing good? I’m not gonna last much longer, baby.”

You nod, simply letting him now it’s okay. A few more thrusts and he is shaking. Eyes closing as he gulps.

“Can i-.. in you?” he mutters.

“Yes.” you say calmly, chest heaving.

He buries his face in the warm crook of your neck, a bright flush over his scared skin. Then he’s coming and- “I love you” he groans and you pause.

“what?”

he’s only half conscious as he spurts into you. eyes rolling back as he gasps. “i’m sorry i didn’t tell you sooner. I’m in love with you, have been for a while.”

you blink “i love you too, Jay.”

He keeps his head buried in your neck but he slowly trails some kisses along your jaw in response. His hand speeds up on your clit as he keeps pumping his slowly softening cock. After a few moments he sits back up, eyes hazy, “you haven’t- should i try again?” you laugh.

“Just give me a minute, love.” your hand snakes down and you lay your fingers on his, helping his finger your clit in that way that had you sparking. You tighten around him and he swears he’s seeing stars. “Fuck” he pulls out of you, grunts turning into a self satisfied smile when you come. You aren’t super loud or anything but he swears it’s the most beautiful melodic thing he has ever seen.

When you come down from your high, he’s laying half on top of you. You can feel his heartbeat thunder against yours, as if merging together—erratic and unsteady. “You did so good” you kiss the top of his head. “You too” he teases.

you have officially deflowered the great jason todd.

thank you for all the support! this is my first time really writing and i’m having a very fun time. i’m kinda new to tumbler so let me know if i’m doing this tag list wrong, lol.

@theendofthematerialgworl @nwjsns @anamiranda7383 @vicky342 @jayskookies @cyberangel-graphics

[sageivyreads]

cornered dogs

Ghoap/street kitty hybrid!fem!reader

introduction: hello! ok i lied i have no idea when the smut is happening because i can’t figure out how to integrate it into the story yet so this might just become a slow burn if i decide to continue it. also i have no idea how to write scottish accents please spare me!! part one and masterlist

contains/warnings: 4.4k words, brief description of a dog attack, reader is drugged, morally gray ghoap, mention of wounds, slightest of angst and mildest of comforts(ghost is a little mean), kinda unreliable narrator reader, r is forced into a bath but it’s for her own good, r is nicknamed ‘Kitty’ since they don’t know her name, 18+, no smut.

reader description: reader is an adult woman. no mention of race or size. her hair is briefly mentioned as ‘messy’ and fur ‘matted’. no mention of hair color or length. she also has scars. able bodied and doesn’t talk, but she will eventually.

It’s misty and wet when the boys (only Soap, Ghost never went to bed) wake in the morning. Furniture is strewn across porches, newspaper soggy on driveways, windshield wipers are propped up in piles of snow atop the car. The storm last night was not even near the calmest. It seemed to have a goal to ruin everyone’s day.

Ghost and Soap have their separate thoughts of worry about you. Soap, when he saw the harsh wind out the bathroom window when he was brushing his teeth. Ghost, when he stepped out of his apartment building for his morning jog and saw the mess the storm had left. It rains and snows frequently where they live, you should be fine, they try to reason with themselves.

And you were doing fine. You’d found sheets of metal in the trash to place over your temporary home for protection from the rain. Which was a few old cardboard boxes smushed together with ripped blankets and tattered rags. You had a full belly for the first time in months the night before, so you’d be okay without food for a bit.

But it’s not like you had someone telling you the weather, and you were underprepared. The wind is so harsh it causes the metal sheets to entirely crush your little home. You just narrowly throw yourself out when it comes crashing down, your knees scraping against the pavement.

You’re heartbroken. Devastated, as you stare at everything you once had been destroyed. But you can’t even feel it, can you? Not when the frost is biting at your nose, warning you of the need for shelter immediately.

You stand from the gravelly road on shaky legs, hugging your arms tight to your chest. The black hoodie is your thickest layer, and you put it on top while hoping it’d absorb some of the rain. Hail is beating at your face as you start to wander, looking for anything you might be able to use for shelter.

Boxes, piles of garbage, trash bags, anything. You come across a dumpster and you think you could slip in the gap between it and the concrete wall. You’ll still be cold, but it’ll protect you from the wind and rain. It fucking stinks. Hopefully you’ll be able to stand the smell.

You proceed, crouching to shift some trash bags stacked against the wall to hopefully slip between. The sound of a low rumble, different from the thunder, makes you stand once more. You turn, and your heart turns cold at the sight you’re met with.

There’s a snarling dog in front of you, hackles raised and legs bent low to the ground as it takes slow steps toward you. Saliva drips from its mouth and mixes with the rain and oil on the street.

The footsteps of the mutt mix with the tip taps of the rain, but your screams don’t.

Your escape is not swift nor scarless. It’s messy, but even after being attacked, you understand the animal. When cornered, everyone is an enemy. You think yourself more alike a pathetic dog than whatever part of you is hybrid.

There’s a nasty chunk taken out of your upper arm, but it’s not too deep. You’ll live.

This whole situation has left you unbelievably startled. You’re soaking wet and shaking, but not from the cold. Your tears are warm against the skin of your cheeks. You can feel scrapes and smears of warm blood on various spots of your body, but you can’t see any injuries other than the bite on your bicep you were currently pressing on with your opposite hand.

Your teeth dig into the split on your lower lip, nose bridge scrunched up from the pain. You’re tired. So tired. Now that the life-saving adrenaline has worn off, and you’re cold, alone, and wet, you only think of one place to go. The only familiar place you have left, really.

It’s a struggle up the stairs of the fire escape with how severely your legs are shaking. You’re worried it’s too late to be wandering so close to people. The storm had started around three in the morning, and after losing your home, searching for a new one, and being attacked, you’d now guess it was around five.

The men in the apartment woke up early, you knew that. But you couldn’t think too hard right now, not when you were so scared.

Your hands shake and slip on the slick surface of the window ledge. On the fourth try, you finally pry it open. You climb inside as quietly as possible, closing it behind you and sinking straight to the floor.

You leave smears of bloody fingertips on the edges of the window and drywall. Your back is against the wall, head slumped on your knees where you hug them to your chest. You wish your mind allowed you to sleep.

It’s only maybe an hour later when you see a light turn on in the other room. But you don’t- can’t fucking move. You’re paralyzed. Even as footsteps approach, even as the kitchen light turns on.

One of the men, the one you hadn’t had encounters with yet, sleepily steps into the kitchen. He’s tanner than the other one, shorter too. He’s got a funky, overgrown hairstyle. Maybe a mohawk in desperate need of a haircut?

He reminds you of the sun. If it were a rowdy, messy guy who had a guilty pleasure in reality TV.

He makes it to the cabinets, the coffee machine, and the fridge before he notices you. Or, the fingerprints. There’s a mug currently being filled by an automatic machine by the time he catches red on his window. His feet stutter to a stop, a frown starting as his lips before his eyes lower to you.

His expression softens, eyebrows raising in surprise at the sight of you. Bloody, clutching your injured bicep, shaking, and soaking wet. Your eyes are wet and surrounded by puffy, pink skin. Your hair clings to your face, the way your clothes do with your body.

“Hi there, sweet thing.” he coos, stepping a few feet away to pull his coffee out of the beeping machine. “Looks like someone’s had a rough night, huh?” He places the mug on the counter before he slowly sinks to sit against the cabinet across from you.

You stare. He’s got weird hair and an even weirder accent. He’s weird. It takes so much energy to even blink, you can’t believe you’re still conscious. You’re terrified, your heart pounding in your chest and ears, but all you can do is stare.

He slowly nods, “Yeah, figured. You must be cold. Mind if I grab ya a blanket? ‘ah can turn the heat up, too.”

All he gets is a blink in response. He stands, slow and measured even as his knees click. “Sit tight,” he urges. You don’t move. He walks out of your sight for a few moments, coming back with a blue wool blanket.

He approaches until he’s a few feet away, spreading out the blanket like wings and tossing it over you as best he can with the distance. It lands on your knees, not nearly high enough for your liking. Your icy fingers twitch. You slowly grip the end of the fabric to pull up to your collarbones.

His lips twitch into a frown at the sight. He wants to swaddle you, surround you in soft blankets and shiny things like a crow would with its mate. Wants to run you a warm bath, and give you another meal. Hot, this time.

But he can be patient. He doesn’t want to scare you off.

“Do ye want somethin’ to eat? Are you here because you’re hungry?” he asks, crouching to sit on the floor against the opposite counter once more. He sighs as he gets nothing in response besides a twitch of your eyebrow and the movement of your throat swallowing.

“Maybe I could get ya something for that arm? If y’let me see, I can help.” he tries to assure you the best he can, but he doesn’t exactly want to be attacked for trying to help. This is his first interaction with you, and it’s already not going great. He gives you a sad smile, and you notice a muscle twitch near his forehead. The crinkle in his skin leads to a star-shaped scar on his temple. You wonder where it’s from.

Soap’s head turns as he hears a clinking noise from the apartment hallway before the door opens. It’s the man you’ve seen before, dressed in joggers and a dark black hoodie, which you think might’ve been grey before it got soaked from the rain.

He locks the door behind him, slips off his shoes, and steps further into the home. He doesn’t notice you immediately either, but much quicker than Soap did. His steps slow once he reaches the kitchen counter, eyes flickering over Soap on the floor, to the bloody window, to you.

His eyes scan you, flicking up to the fingerprints on the window, and the bloody hand clutching your upper arm. Your wet skin and clothes. The way you tremble, the blanket Soap must’ve placed over you.

Soap stands to join him where he’s staring at you. “I found her like this when I came out for coffee this morning. She hasnae moved or talked.” Soap informs, giving you a concerned glance before refocusing on the other man.

All you do is observe as they talk about you. It feels like the cold has settled into your bones at this point, and you have a permanent brain freeze. You haven’t moved in so long, that you think you might actually turn into a statue if you don’t die from infection.

It’s quiet for a moment.

“She can’t stay like tha’. Gonna get hypothermia if she stays wet for any longer.” He digs into the pocket of his hoodie to drop his keys in some weird, wicker woven bowl before he starts towards you. You stiffen, fingers turning into fists against the blankets.

“Woah, woah, what’re ye doin’?” Soap quickly steps up with him, a hand on his arm and expression concerned.

Ghost’s face is blank as Soap stops him, but you notice a twitch on his lip. “I’m going to help her. What, you think she’s got fleas or somethin’?”

Soap scoffs, “How? ‘Cause she’s just gonna let ya touch her? She’s never even let any o’ us willingly see her, much less talk or touch.”

Ghost gives him a long look you can’t decipher, and huffs before he shrugs his hand off his arm and walks up to you. “What d’you think she came ‘ere for? She wants help and that’s wha’ she’s gonna get.”

He reaches down to grab you by your uninjured bicep and elbow, pulling you up to stand. He’s not the most gentle, but he’s not too rough. You stumble, legs shaky and stiff. You feel like rigor mortis is already settling into your muscles, even if you’re still alive.

“Simon,” Soap hisses, and you learn one of the men’s names. You try to step back toward the window, feet fumbling, but Simon nabs you back with a hand on your nape.

He doesn’t respond to Soap, one hand on your shoulder and another on the back of your neck as he guides you to walk in front of him.

The steps are forced and heavy like you’re some newborn calf who was learning how to walk. He guides you to the bathroom where he opens the door and walks you inside. You think your brain might’ve turned offline briefly, and came back on once you realized you were in danger (you aren’t). You don’t know what’s going on, and don’t remember how exactly you got here. What are you missing?

“You’ll be alright, love. We’ll take good care of you.” Soap tries to soothe, keeping up with the hulking man holding you. You glance at him, expression a little pinched. You’re still by the door and can see the living room through the hallway. You could still run. You’re faster than they are. Why are you trying to leave, again?

“Over ‘ere, Kitty.” the man you now know as Simon, says. He leans over the tub to start the faucet. Your eyes flick back to him but you barely blink. He sighs heavily and stands back to his full height. He takes a step and you take two backward, but he just grabs you by the arm and yanks you towards the bath.

His hand goes to the back of your neck again, forcibly shifting your gaze to look up at him. “Did ya freeze up there in tha’ little head of yours, too?” he huffs, lightly flicking your forehead with his free hand. You scrunch your nose, trying to pull away from him.

“No. You need a bath. You’re filthy and freezing.” he grumbled, pulling you to stand at the edge of the tub.

“Do y’need me to undress you?” he asks, keeping his face level with yours. You don’t know what’s wrong with you. Why you aren’t running when they are practically in your face and telling you they’re going to strip your clothes off.

“Si, fuckin’ ease up a bit, alright? She’s clearly startled. Let’s leave her to get undressed.” Soap butts in, stepping further into the bathroom and crossing his arms across his chest.

“Is tha’ what you want? Do y’need me to leave? I’ll leave if I know you’re going to get in.”

You sniffle, the only noise you’d made during this entire time. Your lower lip wobbles. You refuse to make eye contact. The blood on your arm has mostly dried at this point but your hand is still clutching it. Your other hand is fisting the blanket around your shoulders, feet like stone on the ground. If they both left, you think you probably would’ve looked for the nearest window so you don’t have a response to that.

“Alright,” he huffs, straightening next to you. He grabs your cold hands, pressing them to his shoulders and shaping them into a grip. The blanket falls and you shiver. “I’m going to undress you. You can squeeze if I touch somethin’ you don’t like, or I hurt ya. Understand? Squeeze if you understand me.”

Your gaze flicks up to him momentarily, but you can’t read anything behind his eyes. Your fingers flex to the best of your ability, and you think you’re squeezing, but your hand is too numb for you to be sure.

The blood on your hands transfers to the black fabric of his hoodie, but doesn’t show.

“Good,” he nods, kicking the blanket out of the way from where it gathered at your feet. His fingers slip under the hem of your layers, bringing your- his, ripped hoodie above your head, as well as your thinner layers, gaze only briefly wandering over your body. He seems to focus more on the scars than your chest.

He only shifts your grip briefly to let the articles of clothing fall to the floor before putting them back. He continues with your shirt, pants, and undergarments until you’re bare. Your eyes have fixed themselves on a wet patch on his shoulders, afraid that if you move he might go further than you’d like.

“In the bath now,” he confirms, and Soap reenters the conversation to help when Simon gestures for it. They move you like a doll. Simon moves your grip to the side of the tub, Soap moving one leg at a time into the bath. He guides you to sit, and you shiver violently at the temperature change.

Your teeth start clattering. Or maybe they had always been. Your hands hug your arms, crossed across your chest to give you some kind of modesty. It’s not much.

“Johnny. The door.”

Johnny, you learn, stands from his crouched position to close the bathroom door. Something he’d forgotten to in his rush to help. There’s something wet dripping down your face, and it takes you a moment to differentiate whether it’s tears or water dripping from your hair. You think it’s both.

You can vaguely hear some sort of conversation, but your mind seems to blur it out. When Johnny reenters your sight, he’s only in his boxers. You’d probably be taken aback by the amount of skin discoloration- scars, that were on his body if you didn’t have more important things to focus on. Like why he’s nearly naked and getting into the bath with you.

Whatever train of thought you had started conjuring immediately splutters to a stop. He steps into the bath behind you, and you cringe slightly at the thought of your previous wet clothes sticking to your skin.

One of your hands grips the side of the tub, looking to prepare for an easy escape. Johnny’s arm comes around you to grab your wrist and slip it from the edge, gathering both of them to press against your diaphragm in one of his larger ones.

You start to squirm, feet slipping against the tub in your search for momentum as he pulls you back against him. “Easy, lovely. You’re alright.” he coaxes into your ear, wrapping his free forearm around your collarbones and holding you in a loose chokehold as he leans against the back of the tub and takes you with him.

You don’t necessarily fight it, but by the way, your fingers curl into your palms and your breath hitches and stutters, you know they know you’re uncomfortable. Your throat chokes around a whimper as Simon steps around the tub back into your sight.

“Shhhh,” Johnny hushes, settling his chin in the crook of your shoulder. Simon had abandoned his hoodie, now in a black, athletic, tight-fitting shirt. The long sleeves were pushed up to his biceps, a wet clicking noise drawing your attention to his hands.

He was rubbing a plain bar of soap between his palms, slicking his hands before his attention turned towards you. He sets the bar on the side of the tub, reaching for your left foot first. He lifts it out of the water and holds it steady as his hands rub the filth off of you.

You’re already warming up by the time he finishes one leg and starts on the other, only wincing every once in a while when he brushes a scrape. The problem is, you think the cold was numbing your pain. Your temperature is rising and with it your pain.

Your bicep burns now, and tingles in some weird way. The only time you’re adjusted is for Simon to have a better angle to wash you. Johnny keeps you still, mumbling sweet things to you every once in a while. You think you’ve blocked him out at this point.

You’d winced and squirmed a little when he rinsed your wound with water. You didn’t have much of a choice. Your shoulders relax slightly as he finishes and steps away. He hasn’t touched your hair, tail, or ears yet, which only made you worried more for what’s to come. After a moment he returns with a black plastic bottle you can’t catch a good enough look to read.

You watch, wary as he uncaps the lid and holds your upper with his free hand. His hand tilts, spilling the clear liquid over your wound where it bubbles and turns white. You scream, throwing your head back and feeling Johnny flinch as your skull knocks against his chin.

“Fuckin’- easy, easy. We’re not trying to hurt you, calm down.” Johnny tries to soothe you while your squirming increases tenfold.

Johnny never releases you, only tightens his grip and throws a hairy, muscled leg over your hips when your kicking becomes a problem. You squeeze your eyes shut, fresh tears slipping down your newly clean cheeks as your lips part on a sob. It stings, it fucking stings. Why did they do that? What’s wrong with them?

You think you get lost in the white, tight pressure of your eyelids for a moment because when you come back, there’s white gauze and bandages wrapped around your upper arm. You’ve stopped moving. Your lips are parted to let out panicked pants and the whites of your eyes feel irritated.

“Kitty,” Simon speaks so suddenly that your eyes flick up to meet his. A few strands of hair fall in front of your face and you flinch when he smoothes them back. “Relax. We’re not tryin’ to hurt you. You need to cooperate. You hear me? Don’t bite.”

He uses a rough thumb to wipe the tears from your cheeks before he uses that same hand to pry your jaw open, watching as your eyelashes flutter rapidly. He holds your mouth open and uses his free hand to drip a few drops of water into your mouth from a glass cup you have no idea where or when he got.

You stiffen, confused, watery eyes locked on his. He then puts the cup on the bathroom counter and places two small pills on your tongue. You have ample time to bite him. You don’t, reason unknown to you.

He then closes your mouth and watches you closely as he tells you, “Swallow.” You do and can see the way he stares to see if your throat bobs. “Open,” he urges, and this time you do it on your own. When he finds nothing, he praises you with a quiet “good girl.”

“Pain meds. They’ll help ya feel better,” he adds before you even think to ask. You think your brain has been put on a backtrack or something since you stepped into their house. Maybe it was the cold, maybe it was the pain. But now all you can think about is how they could help you every day. Maybe not. They’re too overbearing. Right.

Simon leans over to reach for a bottle labeled ‘shampoo’, but stops when Johnny speaks up. “Si, maybe let’s leave that for another day. Today has already been a lot.” He pauses, and stares, which he seems to do a lot. He grunts in response, leaning over to unplug the tub.

‘Another day’ completely goes over your head.

Your hair is.. well, it’s a mess. You’ve tried to keep it somewhat short so it doesn’t have so much upkeep, but it’s not like there’s a free barber at every corner. the matted fur on your tail and ears you… don’t even want to talk about it.

“I’m gonna let go now, alright?” Johnny says next to your ear, tone soft enough it doesn’t make you jump this time. You nod hesitantly, the first type of communication you’ve ever given to them. He slowly releases you and Simon reaches his hands out for you to grab. You do, slowly, letting him help you stand and step out of the tub.

Johnny lugs himself out of the tub, grabs a towel, and excuses himself from the room. Simon wraps you up in a fluffy, gray towel, rubbing and patting at your face and shoulders until you’re mostly dry. And you kind of just.. stand there. Johnny comes back a few moments later, clothed and dry now, holding a few articles of clothing in his hands.

“Got some clothes for ya,”

Your gaze turns towards him, and you shiver and cross your arms across your breasts once Simon lets the towel drop. He holds a few things up to your body to see what fits best. He dresses you in boxers, one layers of pants, a short-sleeved shirt, a long-sleeved shirt, and a long-sleeved shirt.

You almost wish they had something warmer. Or a raincoat, maybe? But beggars can’t be choosers, can they? At least the socks they tug onto your feet are warm and fuzzy.

You let them move you around like a puppet on strings. One man slipping your arms into the sleeves, one man pulling boxers up your hips. Once they finish, Simon heads over to your clothes.

You watch as Simon picks them from the floor, Johnny adjusting your new outfit to fit you more comfortably, and shoves them right in the bathroom trash.

Johnny watches the way your expression drops as you look at him and shoots Simon a look. “Sorry, lovely. These clothes are yours now.” He tries to placate, his eyes soft as he looks at you. You frown.

“Right,” Simon grunts, “Hoodie got all ripped up. The rest are beyond saving. You’ll wear this now.”

Johnny places a hand on your shoulder, guiding you out to the connected living room and kitchen. You’re disappointed, but you don’t think you can be mad when they’ve done all this for you. You have nothing from before. Maybe that’s okay.

“Ye ready to leave?” he asks, riffling through a cabinet in the kitchen. It takes a moment before you nod. “Think the storm is dying down. You can stay until it’s over, f’you want.”

You shake your head, subtly, instinctively, stepping towards the window. “That’s alrigh’, won’t make ya.” he smiles, showing you his palms up before he takes a step back.

They don’t say anything. They seem to go back to whatever they were doing before you. Soap grabs his cold coffee off the counter and pops it in the microwave, a few beeps sounding out as it turns on. Simon has carried his hoodie back out from the bathroom and placed it on the coat rack by the door.

It almost seems too natural. Practiced.

Your feet feel cold and heavy when you take another step towards the window. You swear they were warm just a moment ago.

While you blink away some blurriness from your vision, you’re hyper-aware of the excess saliva gathering in your mouth. Fuck, please don’t throw up, you urge.

When your gaze refocuses on the window, the rain looks like a watercolor painting. The muscles behind your eyes ache. Your foot is taking another step before you permit it.

Your newly socked feet cause you to slip slightly, one hand snapping out and you just barely have enough time to grip the cedge of the kitchen counter. Your head pounds.

“Och, easy, Kitty.” Johnny gentles, coming up behind you and placing his now cold hands on your shoulders. You don’t know when you got so hot. Feverish.

“Let’s go sit ya down with Simon, yeah?” he asks, but it’s not really a question as he already starts to guide you towards the couch where Simon is sat. You don’t remember seeing him walk that way.

Johnny sits you on the couch next to him, who lifts an arm to coax your head into his lap. He pets his hand over your head, his fingertips feeling the heat of your skin as he brushes against your cheeks.

He pushes your hair back from your face and you let your eyes fall shut solely because of the intense nausea taking over you. Your lips part to let out slow, harsh breaths.

“I don’t feel so good,” you moan, voice slurring, fingers curling into a fist against the fabric of Simon’s pants. The room feels like it’s spinning.

“I know, love.”

notes: sorry for the abrupt ending! also i don’t mind tagging people so go ahead and ask if u want!

tag: @pagesfalling

[skzdreamer13]

Omg I NEED size kink with hyunjin. I bet he's so long. it's been living in my head

You got it my love :)

Size Kink with Hyunjin 🧡

The first story of Kinktober :)

This is only my second Smut writing so I'm sorry if it is bad in away. Practice makes perfect.

Warnings: Size Kink, Smut, Oral (M & F recieving)

18+ MDNI!!

You spent the day at home. The snow is coming down hard, the windows frosting slightly with the difference of how warm it is inside and the freezing winds outside.

Your boyfriend in the kitchen making hot chocolate, you sitting in bed curled up watching your favorite comfort movie waiting for him to come back.

After begging him over and over to make some hot chocolate he finally caved. He really loves me. You think while curling up tighter and sinking into the pillows.

"Alright, love. Here's your hot chocolate, I put whipped cream on it." He walks in, two steaming mugs in hand. His hair is long and messy, from having been in bed all day because of the snow storm ragging outside. He's got on a plain white t-shirt that looks like it's one size too big for him.

Though you can still see his upper body clearly through the semi-sheer material of his shirt. His shoulders broad and with every step he takes the muscles in his arm flex to keep the mugs steady. God this man can't do anything in a non sexy manner, he just oozes sex appeal.

At this point your gawking, eyes slowly drifting across him. His hands and how big they are, too large for the mugs in his hands, making them look small almost child sized. His long legs and how the black sweatpants cling lowly on his hips, drawstrings untied. Your eyes lock on his pelvis, his pants loose which you think would be a problem for visualizing but because of their looseness his cock sways freely in his sweats, no underwear to keep himself locked into place.

You gulp. Of course you know what he looks like. You've been together so long. But you will never get enough of how big he is. You feel the heat rushing to your cheeks as you openly stare.

At this point you've done little to hide where your eyes, and now your mind, was focused on. Hyunjin sets the mugs down on his nightstand, bending slightly. He stands up straight, his buldge pressing up against the front of his sweats with the movement.

Hyunjin looks at you, a smug smirk playing on his face, "My eyes are up here."

Your eyes shoot up to meet his, wide like a dear caught in headlights. Your face goes even warmer and you go to say something, your mouth opening but the words caught in your throat.

"If you want something, just ask." He says, his voice dropping to a soft sensual teasing tone. He then gets on the bed and climbs under the covers and goes beneath them, head dipping below into the darkness.

He taps your thigh for you to spread your legs as he crawls between them. Your breath gets caught in your throat as he pulls your pajama pants down, underwear going with and tosses them to the side.

You feel his breath on your core as his large hands massage your thighs, He's playing with you and even though he's barely touched you, you're impatient and needy.

"Please..." You say breathless, there's no time to be embarrassed about how wet you know you already are as he dips his head down and licks a long strip up your pussy.

The moan that leaves you is one of relief that he is finally touching you, tasting you.

His tongue flicks at your clit up and down, you arching your back at the feeling.

He pulls the covers off of both of you, so you can see him as he sits up on his knees, He towers over you. You love how big his entire body is, like he can shield you from everything but at the same time he can do whatever he wants to you and you love that.

His eyes are dark and clouded with lust, his hair even messier than before. His shirt has risen slightly and you can see his happy trail dipping down below the him of his pants. And without warning or hesitation you bring your hand up and palm him through his sweats.

His head falls back and he lets out the sigh of a moan as you rub up and down his massive dick through his pants. Bringing your other hand up you pull the waistband of his pants down and let his cock fall out.

It's right in front of you, huge. and you know there is no way all of it it is going to fit in your mouth, it never has. But that doesn't change how you love to choke on it.

You wrap both hands around his shaft and run your tongue in a circle over the tip of his cock. His hands fisting at his sides as you take as much of him in your mouth as you can. His hand fall into your hair and you look up to meet his eyes.

Hyunjin's eyes are glazed over his mouth slightly open and his breathing is heavy as you keep your eyes locked with his, you start to pull back off of his dick and sink your mouth back down onto him, your hands jerking off the rest of his shaft the doesn't fit in your mouth.

The moans that come out of him are heavenly. You can't get enough and you start to pick up your pace wanting to hear him more.

He hisses, "If you keep this up I'm going to cum and I want to feel you around me first." You ignore him, if he comes in your mouth that would make you incredibly happy and you have no issues with that, so you continue to suck him your head coming up and down quickly, your hair falling in your face.

He pulls you off and up, gentle but you can feels his urgency.

"Please, let me fuck you first." You look at him and know you feel just as needy as he looks.

You nod your head, words escaping you as pulls both of your shirts off and lays you down. He lines himself up with your entrance and pushes into you, agonizingly slow.

His arms beside your head holding himself up and he has you trapped between his body and the bed.

"God I love how small you are, you're so perfect for me." He says and lays his body flush to yours. You wrap your legs around his hips and bring him deeper, still not all the way. you're pretty much screaming with the speed and strength behind everyone of his thrusts.

With every thrust from him you feel like you're closer and closer to your orgasm. Your nails digging into his back with the tightness that coils in your belly.

"Hyunjin... I'm close." The desperation in your voice gives him motivation to keep going and you feel his cock twitch, he's close too.

His hand slips between your bodies and he finds your clit with his fingers and rubs at it, clumsily and quickly. That's enough to bring you over the edge and you are clenching around him so tight the feeling is enough to bring on his orgasm.

Falling half on top of you, half on the bed, you're both sweaty and breathless. He's still inside of you, shrinking with each breath, his cum threatening to spill out with each lingering throb of your pussy as you come down from your orgasm.

"I love the Winter." He says to you and kisses your cheek and you giggle.

Kintober Post ~ Here

@neverendingstay Post ~ Here

Kinktober Masterlist ~ Here

Master List

18+ Tag List

Tag List

@intrikatie @juskz @stolasisyourparent @pixie0627 @paperclip-skz

@yaorzu-blog @velvetmoonlght

[elegantlyeva]

Thank you again for the story! It was fantastic! I was wondering if you could maybe write one about different stages of their relationship. Like when they first met. Did Scott like her at first sight or did she wiggle her way into his heart? How was their first date?? Who fell first? It can all be one story or multiple. Whatever floats your boats! Thank you again!

DAY ONE

Snowy Encounter

a/n: This is long overdue <3

Word Count: 1.0k

Summary: Scott meets (frostbitten) you for the first time.

The gloves covering your hands did nothing to stop the sting of the cold air, your knuckles becoming ashy from the dryness. 

You were passing out free hot cocoa, after being coaxed by your friend, who ended up backing out, and unfortunately for you, you never checked your phone. Oklahoma was borderline freezing this winter, compared to others.

Your toes were numb despite the layers of socks you had on, and you were now rethinking your decision to choose style over practicality in your boots.

You’d been giving out hot chocolate for at least 30 minutes before you couldn’t take it any longer. The urge to quit hit hard, or at least to take a 15-minute break, and you were about to ask for one when your (new) partner in this horrible task made a beeline for the bar across the street to ‘use the bathroom.’

Still, you knew helping people would be worth it, though

Wrong. It wasn’t worth it.

Ryan, you think her name was, never returned from the bar, and worse, it started to snow.

Sure, there was a small makeshift roof over the stand, but it was made out of an old blanket and wasn’t doing much to stop the snow from sticking to the ground.

It hadn’t snowed in Oklahoma for years, but of course, the day you had no choice but to be outside, it decided to pile up.

Your teeth chattered, your fingers were stiff to the point where it hurt each time you grabbed a cup to fill, and you were sure the hot chocolate was cold by now. Despite telling people, they still insisted on lining up.

With a sigh, you handed a cup to the stranger in front of you, ready to say the same line you’d been repeating:

“It’s cold by now,” you muttered, staring at the ground to keep any snow from blowing in your face from the wind.

“How much do I owe you?” the stranger asked, instead of reacting to your pessimism.

You did a double take at the voice, willing yourself to look up because anyone who sounded like that must be worth looking at.

Taking a frostbitten hand, the weird itchy feeling on your knuckles, which must be a sign they were falling off, you shielded your forehead to look up, and honestly, you were grateful you did.

He wasn’t just worth looking at, he was beautiful.

A steady frown on his face and hair poking out from the cap on his head, not to mention his eyes.

He cleared his throat, his patience clearly wearing thin.

Rubbing your hands together to warm them, you replied, “Oh, sorry. It’s free. I mean, it would be kind of cruel to charge you for a cold cup of milk.”

“You’re giving out free hot chocolate?” It was a lot of judgment coming from someone chewing gum in this cold—especially considering he was about to buy hot (cold) chocolate.

You furrowed your brows. “It’s for a good cause,” you said, shoving the cup into his hand.

“Right,” he deadpanned. “What’s the cause?”

“Holiday spirit?” Honestly, you couldn’t remember why you’d agreed to do this.

He snorted. “Well, I hope it’s worth getting frostbite for.”

You held back a glare, thinking he was much too pretty to be rude.

He stared at you for a moment, as if considering his next words. Without saying anything, he turned around and addressed the line behind him.

“I just took the last cup, so the rest of you idi... people can go home.” You heard the crowd groan, even a few curses thrown out, but for the most part, people left without too much fuss.

“Thank you,” you said, a smile appearing on your face. For a moment, your body warmed, at least internally.

“It would be a stupid ‘cause’ to give out free hot chocolate,” he muttered, shuffling in place.

“I’d like to point out that you were willing to pay for this cold cup of milk two minutes ago.”

The handsome stranger rolled his eyes, but you saw the corner of his mouth tip up. “You live in town?”

The question surprised you, but more so the fact that he was helping you pack away the cups and marshmallows into the bins.

“For the holidays.”

“That’s... descriptive,” he said slowly, giving you a side-eye.

“I’m staying with a few friends. They try to convince me every year to move here, but I don’t know.”

He hummed in acknowledgment, and after a couple more minutes, he was walking you to your car, carrying the rest of the stand, and helping you shove it into your trunk. Scott (you’d learned his name at some point between then and now) shut your trunk, and you quickly thanked him for the help.

“Thank you for that. You didn’t need to stay and help. I’m sure Ryan would’ve come back eventually.”

He raised a brow. “Boyfriend?” Then, “You’re welcome.”

The confusion on your face must have been obvious because he sighed, as though regretting asking in the first place.

“Ryan,” he clarified.

“Oh. No, I hardly know her. She’s a friend of a friend, I think, and she certainly didn’t find me very entertaining since she ran off.”

He laughed then, or at least you thought he did—it came out gruffly, and you could hardly tell.

You sneezed, and he dug into his pocket, pulling out a beanie and holding it out to you. “Here.”

Shaking your head and sneezing again, you replied, “No, that’s okay. I’m about to get in my car and head back anyway. You’ll need it more than I do.”

He rolled his eyes, shoving the beanie into your hands. “You look like you’re going to turn into an icicle. Just take it. I have a hat,” he said, motioning to the cap on his head.

“That’s hardly a hat,” you thought, but decided against saying so. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

When you sneezed again, he ushered you into your car.

You turned on the engine immediately to start the heat. “Where’s your car? Do you need a ride?” you asked, hoping it wasn’t too far, not wanting him to have gone out of his way to help.

He pointed across the street to a white truck.

Nodding, you smiled up at him. “How will I give you your hat back?”

His lips tipped up into an almost smile. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

[dumdogs]

on the way ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ k. sakusa

masterlist

tags/warnings: hurt/comfort, established relationship, grief, awkwardness/tension, family member death, funeral, mentions of a dysfunctional family

a/n: me stop writing abt dead brothers challenge failed. sorry im coping still.

word count: 1.6k

07:00AM

His alarm goes off. It’s dreary and gray outside. Her body’s absent from the left side of the bed.

It doesn’t take very long to find her, and Sakusa doesn’t try very hard. He rolls out of bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, and drags his feet into the living room. She’s standing out the window, looking out of it. He’s not surprised. Staring out windows silently, pensively, is a lot of what she’s been doing lately.

Sakusa approaches her from behind. She doesn’t flinch or acknowledge when his arms snake around her middle. “Are you going to get ready soon?”

08:43AM

They’re late. Thirteen minutes late to leaving. Sakusa doesn’t make a thing out of it, like he normally would. He doesn’t say anything at all as she climbs into the passenger seat and unceremoniously throws her back into the backseat. Sakusa figures that’s his cue that he’s the one driving. He doesn’t complain about this, like he normally would.

Once he’s settled in the driver’s seat, he takes a moment to wrap a wide hand around her knee, squeezing slightly, even though they’re running late. She doesn’t react. Sakusa looks at her, lips pursed together like he’s waiting for some kind of reaction from her. He’s been waiting for a reaction since the news broke. “You ready?” he asks.

She turns her head to look at him with her eyes dry and decorated with heavy, purple shadows. “Yeah,” she replies, voice devoid of animation, flat and stale. “Let’s go.”

Her grief makes him uncomfortable. Sakusa can only think of how uncomfortable it makes him as he pulls away from their home. He knows this makes him bad person. Or at least, it’s a bad feeling for him to have. He knows that he should be supportive, whatever that means, and that he should be a partner she can rely on.

Whatever that means. Sakusa hasn’t figured it out yet.

It might be easier if she cried. He would at least know what to do then. He could take her in his arms and tell her it’s okay to cry and he would make her some of her favorite food and do things that loving, doting partners do in times of grief and sorrow. But she hasn’t cried. She hasn’t done anything but stare out the window and become a whittled down, blank version of herself.

He feels like all he can do is stare and wait. Just watching as she slowly dissolves, day-by-day.

The car pulls onto a main road. There’s traffic.

09:32AM

She doesn’t play music. None of her aggressive and headache inducing rock music or bubbly and headache inducing pop music. It’s just silence. The wind that sneaks in through the backseat window that never fully closes, and Sakusa’s breathing.

There’s nothing else.

He keeps looking at her, glancing at her for just a second when the road in front of him is clear. He’s taking stock of her expression, checking for slight changes and variations. But each time he looks, her lips are slightly downturned, eyes half-closed, cheek resting in the palm of her hand.

She’s unmoving, statuesque.

Sakusa watched when she got the call. He saw in real time as her mind started to shut down. With her phone pressed against her ear, standing in the kitchen with a half-cooked pot of curry, he watched as any traces of joy or excitement slip off face like melting snow plummeting off a roof. “Oh,” is what she said, “thanks for telling me.” That was all Sakusa heard before she hung up and turned to deliver the news back to him.

“My brother’s dead.”

He took hold of her at once. He whispered condolences into her hair, and he felt her shake but he never heard her sob or cry or anything.

She’s looked the same since then. She looks the same now.

He steals another glance at her, hoping for something different. It’s the same.

10:04AM

 She talks. Sakusa feels like it’s the first time she’s talked in days.

“He used to carry me around the neighborhood on his shoulders,” she says, out of nowhere. It makes him jump, slightly, before he steadies the steering wheel. He glances again. She still hasn’t moved. “His friends used to pick on me a lot but he always defended me. One time I caught him smoking cigarettes behind the house, and I pretended like I was going to tell our mom, but I didn’t. When my mom disappeared, he made sure I still went to school. Packed my lunches and everything. And when I was really little, I remember being confused. Because sometimes he felt like my brother, but a lot of the time he really just felt like my dad.”

Sakusa’s grip on the steering wheel tightens. He thought he would have something to say, but he doesn’t. Nothing feels right.

10:36AM

They’re late. Sakusa has a nervous pit in his stomach about this, but everyone else in her family is later than them.

She hugs her mom, looking stiff as she does, and returns to Sakusa’s side as soon as the awkward embrace is over. He holds onto her hand and doesn’t let it go for the rest of the service.

He listens to people talk about him. Sakusa never met her brother, never knew him personally, but it seems like the him that existed to everyone else didn’t exist to her. They get up there and they talk about him and the dark path he was on and how far he had strayed and how he was so untouchable, unsavable.

She’s stiff beside him the entire time. It seems like she’s holding her breath. Sakusa has to lean down and whisper in her ear, “Breathe.”

Her shoulders rise and fall.

11:49AM

She looks smaller in her childhood home, but she moves around it like she’s too big for the space. Sakusa still won’t let go over her hand.

In her brother’s childhood room, she flicks through piles of CDs and old mangas. There’s posters for bands Sakusa’s never heard of on the wall. There’s a half-full jar of foreign coins and trash that still hasn’t been emptied. Sakusa feels that it is all too intimately human.

Her fingers graze along the spine of a book that’s shoved under small television on his dresser. Love is a Dog from Hell. “He never read this,” she comments, lifting her fingers away. The tips of them are coated in dust. “He stole it from me, and then never gave it back.”

Sakusa watches her carefully. Her shoulders are more relaxed in this space, and there is a ghost of a smile on her face. He doesn’t want to make her leave, but he knows she can’t stay here, surrounded by memories and dust. “Do you want to take anything home?” he asks.

This makes her frown, and he doesn’t know why. “I can’t just take it from him,” she tells him, sounding so small.

She doesn’t need to take anything, anyways. Her mother prepared a small box of belongings that she thought her daughter would appreciate it. She shoves it into her arms on the way out, and it finds itself stuffed into Sakusa’s trunk.

12:59PM

She wanted to leave early, so they left early. She wanted to drive home, so Sakusa let her drive home.

She put in a CD for the drive home. It’s sad. If Sakusa felt like he knew better, he’d tell her that maybe they shouldn’t listen to something so depressing. That maybe they should let the radio play or they could talk about something. But Sakusa doesn’t feel like he knows anything.

He doesn’t feel like he even knows her, right now. Not shrouded in grief, not with this black veil pulled over her eyes. He doesn’t know what’s best for her. He doesn’t know how to help her or how to make anything better, even slightly.

He reaches over the center console and lets his hand rest on her thigh. He leaves it there this time. He doesn’t know if she appreciates it or likes the comfort or if she even notices at all. But he leaves his hand there, and hopes it does something.

03:02PM

They get home. She goes inside without grabbing the box. Sakusa gets it for her, and puts it somewhere where she won’t have to see it, if she doesn’t want to.

05:22PM

Sakusa cooks dinner. Her favorite. Definitely not curry. She eats it in small bites, and then takes a shower that lasts too long. He cleans, and listens for the sounds of her.

07:54PM

She’s in bed already. Funerals take a lot out of you, he figures. He joins her, if for no other reason that he doesn’t want her to be alone. She’s on the let side. He’s on the right.

His arms snake around her middle. He pulls her closer and kisses the side of her face. “I love you,” he tells her, because it’s true, and he wants her to know it. Even if he’s useless. Even if all he can do is watch.

He can almost feel it cracking in her chest. The way it boils over. She inhales sharply, and says, “Kiyoomi,” in a pitch or two higher than she normally speaks, like she’s out of breath. “I really miss him. I miss my brother.”

Sakusa tightens her arms around her as the sobs let loose. It rocks through her violently, and he holds her through it all. “I know,” he whispers back. “I know.”

[justsomerandomfanfic]

What Am I Going To Do With You? - Logan Howlett X GN Reader

Title: What Am I Going To Do With You?

Logan Howlett X GN Reader

Additional Characters: N/A

Requested by Anon!

WC: 4,438

Warnings: Death mentioned briefly, X-Men canon violence briefly mentioned, italics, cursing, unconsciousness?, alcohol (beer), very brief mentions of poisoning, yelling mentioned, nightmares mentioned, confessions, strangers to friends to lovers, nicknames, banter, teasing, flirting, slight suggestiveness, slight angst, and fluff

The snow was falling softly outside, and a few puffy flakes were already starting their journey into the ground of the forested land that surrounded your small cabin in Hunter, New York. The air was cold and biting with each puff of wind that blew across the open landscape. It was early in the morning, on a Friday, when you would usually go out and cut up some new firewood for the upcoming days. It was hard work, especially in such cold weather, but it ultimately kept you warm for a week or two before you'd have to chop up some more.

In your oversized, white coat, you gathered as much wood as you possibly could fit into your arms before setting off through the thick snow, back to your back door. Kicking and knocking your snow boats against the slightly raised threshold, you shook your hair out as you nudged the door closed with your hip. The snow that had landed softly in your hair began to instantly melt into its liquid form once the warm and comforting heat of your house hit you. Setting down the wood logs on the small wooden table by your wood-burning furnace; you stood up straight, back slightly aching as you did so. 

Upon looking at your wood pile, you worried on your bottom lip before deciding to go out for a couple more from the large stack you had up against the side of your cabin. You weren't entirely sure that you'd have enough, so it was best to grab more wood than you'd need. You didn't want to freeze to death during the rest of your winter, and you didn't want to go out into the freezing cold more than you'd have to. 

With a short glance at your still-steaming coffee on your dining room table, you let out a sigh before stepping back out into the cold. Stuffing your mittens together to keep them tight on your hands, you rubbed at your chill-to-the-bone nose before heading back around to the side of your cabin. But right as you turned the corner, you froze, not literally. There, lying slumped in the thick and deep snow was a man. He definitely wasn’t there when you went out to get the first load of logs. He didn't move, possibly unconscious... Or worse... Dead. You couldn't have a dead man on your property... It would only bring trouble. 

Hoping, praying that his man was still alive, you dragged your feet through the seven-inch snow, standing within inches from him, you dropped to your knees. Eyes wandering his large figure, you bit your lip; he was breathing, his back rising and falling slowly. This man wouldn't survive long, him facing down like that. Tearing off your gloves, you quickly pushed him over, groaning slightly from how heavy the man was. What did he eat? Rocks?

Once upon his back, you let out a short breath, a small foggy plume escaping your lips as you looked over him. You couldn't help but stare, completely entranced by the man's striking features. His face, although covered in bits of stubborn snow, was a rosy pink, with a dark beard, and brown-curly hair. And though he was unconscious, he looked at peace, even though he lay in the middle of the cold snow. He reminded you of someone, but you didn't know who... Your mind began racing as you racked your brain to figure out where he might have been coming from, why he was unconscious, and why he would be out and about in just jeans and a flannel button-up?

Feeling the biting tingling on your hands from the cold you blinked out of your thoughts. And as if on instinct, you stood back up, your knees aching in the process as you moved around to his head. Taking hold of his arms, you grunted lightly as you pushed him forward, in a sitting position. Once you were satisfied that you had him positioned as he needed to be, you began to drag him to your back door.

It took you a long time, but by the time you had gotten the unconscious - handsome - stranger inside, you were well out of breath. You had to take a moment, taking a moment to catch your breath and calm your heart rate as you stared down at the man lying on your wooden floor. Tossing your gloves onto one of your couches, you quickly tore off your winter coat, hanging it sharply on the hook near your front door. Turning back to the man, you placed both your hands on your hips, huffing lightly. 

"What am I going to do with you?" You asked, mostly to yourself as you ran your hands through your hair. “I can’t call the police… They’ll only bring trouble…”

Thinking that now would be the best time to lay him down somewhere more comfortable before he woke, you grabbed the man again and pulled him over to your other couch, closest to the fire that was burning. You thought it would be easier to lay on your other couch than your bed; lifting the man was already hard enough - him feeling like he weighed a million pounds - but lifting him as you have up the stairs... No way. 

Staring down at the man, you worried whether or not you should get him a change of clothes, but that would be impossible. You live a good couple of miles from the closest shops and you didn't have any clothes that would fit the man; who you guessed was around six-foot-something. But you didn't want him to catch his death, so a good couple of blankets would hopefully suffice. You didn't really know… You had hoped so. Grabbing the throw on the back of the other couch, you carefully tossed it over the man before grabbing the rest of the blankets you had around the cabin. 

Upon placing the last blanket down on him, you stopped. Finally, away from the cold air and snow, you began to see the redness in his cheeks fade away slightly, and only then did you have the chance to take a better look at his face. Now that there wasn't any snow in his hair, you let your eyes run over his handsome features, noticing all the little details. From the way his eyelashes curled delicately, his short, dark brown curls became more pronounced as his hair dried, and the way his tanned skin seemed to glow under the artificial light of your lamps and the fireplace; he even had barely-there freckles upon the apples of his cheeks. Your hand twitched with the urge to stroke his cheek,.. Nope. Bad idea, bad idea... Maybe... You paused to think. Yeah, to check if he had a fever, you could do that. 

Reaching out, you softly brushed some of the stray hairs from his forehead - in awe from how soft they were from just the brief brush - your mind searing into you that having this unknown man in your home was dangerous. He could be dangerous. He was tall, obviously strong; he could easily break you in two with those large hands of his, but you ignored it. Finally, you pressed the back of your hand on his forehead, only to sigh in relief. No fever. Quickly, you pulled your hand away, making sure that he was breathing once more before you headed to the kitchen, grabbing your coffee from the dining room table as you did so. Maybe you could make some soup, for you, and possibly for the man that was in your living room. 

~~~

It had been a couple of days since the mysterious man had come into your life. And for the past couple of days, that mysterious man was still unconscious. You had been doing your best to take care of him, not really knowing what to do; though you read up on the few First Aid and Nursing textbooks you had found three years ago at a thrift store, but never got around to reading. Sitting next to the fire, in your old rocking chair that you got for the amazing price of seven dollars, a book in your hand, you decided to catch up on some reading. As you rocked, turning page after page, you occasionally looked up to make sure that he was still breathing, in turn, not fully paying attention to the words on the page. Looking over to the clock on the wall, you let out a sigh before standing and setting down your book on the rocking chair seat; the book was a bit boring anyway. 

Walking over, you sat on the ground beside the couch. Resting on your knees, you stared at the man, your mind wandering. Who was he? He looked so familiar. Like you had known him or had seen him before. But you hadn’t been out and about in - quote on quote - ‘the real world’ for years. You had been sort of living off the grid for the past couple of years. 

Reaching out, you went to feel his forehead for a fever again when his hand suddenly reached up, gripping your wrist. You gasped, eyes widening as you watched the man's eyes open, a small but gruff groan reverberating from his well-built chest. Slowly, he sat up, bringing your wrist with him, tightening his grasp slightly as he stared down at you with hard, dark brown eyes. You couldn't look away, both scared and lost in those eyes that were locked onto yours.

"Wha' happened?" He rasped, his voice rough and hoarse, "Who are you?"

You swallowed down your spit, trying not to let the nervous feeling overwhelm you. "Uh, I'm Y/N... Uh, I found you outside my cabin, unconscious." You spoke in a hushed tone, your voice quiet as you stared up at the man with wide eyes.

The man stared at you, his brows furrowing as he tilted his head slightly, clearly confused though he never dropped his slightly threatening demeanor. "Where am I?"

"You're- You're in my cabin... In, uh, Hunter, New York." You answered as you glanced from his dark eyes to his hand on your wrist, "Uh, could you please let go of me?"

His own eyes snapped to his hand, tightly wrapped around your wrist before quickly dropping your hand. Without another word, he stood, the pile of blankets falling to the side as he made his way quickly to the closet door. Staggering to your feet, you made your way to him, grabbing his flannel sleeve without really thinking. 

"Wait! You can't go back out there! It's freezing!" You exclaimed, his eyes staring down at your hand sharply before meeting your worried gaze once more.

"It don't bother me." He spoke, voice deep, sounding irritated, "I don't care 'bout no damn weather." 

"But you have no jacket, gloves, or hat... Or- Or anything! You'll catch your death out there!" At that, the man clicked his tongue, pulling his arm from your grasp, "Besides, the nearest town is miles away. Fifteen to be exact. You won't be able to make it. Especially after being unconscious for five days!" The man said nothing, walking the rest of his way to the front door, his large hand grabbing the door handle. Becoming slightly irritated, you grabbed his arm again, using enough strength to turn him towards you a little. "Listen here. It's freezing out, you just woke from some sort of small coma-like sleep thing, haven't drunk or eaten anything, and you expect me to just let you leave?" You growled, tightening your grip slightly, "At least stay a couple more days until the storm calms down. I have soup on the stove and a few drinking options in my fridge. Though, if you have a death wish, by all means, I can’t stop you, go on out there."

You stared up at the man as he stared down at you, his eyes moving around your face before he huffed, "Got any beer?"

"Beer?" You asked, slightly deadpanned, as the man looked back down at you and nodded, "Yeah... Uh, yeah, I got beer. Uh, just follow me, please." Breaking away, you turned and made your way to your kitchen, the sound of the man's heavy footsteps following close behind you. Reaching the stove, you grabbed a bowl from the cupboard before grabbing the large spoon and pouring a bit of mashed potato and onion soup into the bowl. Turning to the fridge, you grabbed one of the Coronas you had next to your hard lemonades before shutting the door with your hip. 

Turning, you found the man sitting on the stool, his lower arms resting on your counter. Clearing your throat, you set the beer and bowl of soup down before him before you grabbed your own soup. "Thanks," You heard him mutter slightly as you turned your back. 

Leaning against the corner of the counter, you stirred your soup around with a spoon, feeling very awkward. Glancing over as the man took a long sip of his beer, you spoke up once more. "Uh, may I know your name?" You asked, watching as he froze, spoon halfway to his mouth, "I mean, it's only fair. You know my name, and I've most likely saved your life and all. Nasty storm."

The man took another sip before setting the glass bottle aside, running his hand through his hair before glancing over at you, "... I'm Logan."

"Logan..." You repeated the name slowly, testing it out, "Well... What were you doing in my woods before you fell unconscious?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Logan shrugged, glancing away at the picture of a moose on your wall before taking another sip of his beer. Silence followed the question and you wondered why he hadn't answered. What was he hiding? Was he even hiding anything? Could he even remember? What did he know? What did he know about you?

"You live 'ere?" He suddenly asked, making you pause eating this time.

"Of course I do. What kind of question is that?" You asked, looking up at the man once more with an eyebrow raised before pushing off of the counter and tossing your empty bowl in the sink. You quickly rushed away from the kitchen, Logan watching you as you grabbed your winter coat from the hook and shrugged it on.

"Where ya goin'?" He asked as you slid on your gloves and grabbed your old messenger bag.

"Out to grab more wood for my furnace and fireplace." You answered simply. "It'll take a bit. So, if you're not here when I get back, I'll understand. But you should at least stay until the snow dies down and I can get you a ride into town."

Logan pursed his lips, finishing off his beer before speaking, "'nd ya think ya can trust me? Some stranger?" He asked as you made your way to the back door, shuffling your boots on.

You paused at the back door, hand on the door handle, "Yeah. I can trust you." You said confidently before turning to look at the burly man with a slight grin, "There's more beer in the fridge if you want it, and water too if you're still thirsty."

And with that, you opened and shut the door behind you, a waft of cold air hitting you in the face before you started walking along the thick snow to the side of your cabin.

~~~

"Logan! Could you help me in the kitchen for a moment!?" You called out aimlessly in the cabin from the said kitchen, hands covered in dough and flour.

Needing the dough, you smiled as you heard the familiar heavy footsteps make their way to you. Logan huffed, pulling his hands from his jeans pockets as he made his way over. "Wha' do ya need me fo'?" He grumbled, leaning against the counter. 

You rolled your eyes playfully, gesturing to the bag of flour on the counter beside the both of you, "Could you pour me some of that? I miscalculated how much I was going to need."

Logan grunted, grabbing the bag and dumping a small pile onto the dough, "That good?" He asked and you smiled with a nod.

"Yep! Perfect, thank you, Lo." You replied, smiling up at him as he stepped back, eyeing you curiously.

"What're ya makin'?" Logan asked, peering over your shoulder at what you were doing.

You grinned lightly, "Pie dough." You stated, glancing up at him.

"Pie dough?" He asked, "What kind of pie?"

"Cherry."

He stared at you, his eyebrows furrowed. "No kiddin'?"

"Yup." You giggled, grinning brightly at the man. "Didn't I tell you about it last night?"

Logan shook his head, "Nah, ya didn't mention it. Didn't say a thin'."

"Well," You began, "I'm making cherry pie. It'll be ready for dessert tonight. Just have to make it, bake it, and give it enough time to cool down a bit." You glanced up at him before finishing, "Wanna help me with this?"

Logan huffed, "I don't know… I ain’t good at bakin’." He began, watching as you tried to blow a couple of stray hairs from your face, "I was goin' to go out and get more wood for the fire." He answered, bringing his hand up to brush the stubborn hairs away from your face and behind your ear, making your face heat up as you smiled sheepishly up at him.

"We already have enough firewood in here to last us a few more days, Lo." You laughed out, looking back down at the dough on the counter.

"Fine. But ya owe me a beer," Logan answered, pouring a bit more flour over your dough before you could ask him to do it "And an extra slice of the pie." 

Your smile widened, chuckling lightly, "It's not like you take the beer anyway." You teased as Logan scoffed softly, rolling his eyes. "But, you may have an extra piece, maybe three pieces, since you're helping me and all."

"Fine by me," Logan muttered, "Whaddya want me to do?"

"Oh, uh, could you cut me up some of those cherries, and make sure the pits are out of them? Cherry pits have amygdalin."

“Amy-wha’ now?” Logan asked, walking over to the fridge and grabbing a beer.

“Amygdalin.” You corrected, “It’s what’s in cherry pits. Our body converts it into cyanide.” You answered as Logan took in what you were saying, his lips just pressed onto the glass rim of the beer bottle as he paused.

Logan hummed deeply before finally taking a sip of his drink, grabbing the see-through bag of pre-washed cherries with one hand. Glancing over at him briefly, you couldn't help but smile. It had been a little over a month since you found Logan in the snow. And the past month had been pretty amazing. After the initial awkwardness passed, Logan became really nice to talk to and even began to become a little fun to be around, though he was still quiet and kept to himself for the most part.

The only thing that ever seemed to truly change was when he would wake up in the middle of the night screaming from inside his guest bedroom. The first time it happened, you had rushed over to his room across from yours and came face to face with a set of claws. He didn't hurt you, but he apologized to you as if he did. He didn't really talk to you much after the first nightmare, and it took you a mighty long time to get him to open back up to you again. Though he was rather stubborn, so were you, and with a lot of reassurance, you finally cracked him out of his shell enough for him not to run away into the snowstorm. And after a long conversation by the fire, and with warm coffee filling your stomachs, you finally got some of his story. 

And though you feared that he was going to leave you, Logan stayed.

And the longer he stayed, the more you began to fall for him. Under that gruff exterior, Logan was actually a softie. A sarcastic, sarcastic, softie. It was one of the many things you loved about him. And you were sure that he might've felt the same, or at least something close to it. From lingering glances and the less-than-accidental touches, he was certainly getting close to you, or closer than he usually let himself get to anyone. He had thought about leaving, in the middle of the night, or in the early morning before you woke up. But if Logan had left, he would’ve felt guilty, leaving you all alone, only for you to wake up and not find him there. That tension was there. And that fear of accidentally hurting you was still there. And it scared him. It scared him at how close he was actually getting to you.

"Bub," Logan called out, making you jump slightly and look up at him as you snapped out of your daydreaming. Logan stared down at you, his eyes narrowed slightly, "Are ya okay?"

You nodded slightly, wiping the flour off the best you could before going over to wash them in the sink, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just lost in thought."

Logan watched you carefully, "What 'bout?" He asked and you tilted your head slightly as you thought.

"Hmm… Nothing really... Uh, it happens when I bake." You mutter sheepishly, reaching out for the dish towel on the oven handle only to find it right in front of your face, in Logan's hand. Giving him a thankful smile, you take the small towel, drying your hands off. "Thank you, Logan. Are those cherries ready?" You asked, looking over past his figure to take a look at the cherries he directed for the pie.

"They're ready," He answered, grabbing your attention again, "There's somethin' buzzin' around in that pretty head of yours."

"Hm?" You hummed, raising a brow curiously. "Somethin’ buzzin’ around?" You repeated questioningly with a smile.

Logan chuckled dryly, stepping closer to you, smirking, "Don't play coy with me, Y/N. Whatcha thinkin' 'bout?"

You flushed lightly, biting your bottom lip and shifting your weight uncomfortably under his gaze. Your heart fluttered lightly at his closeness. He looked so gorgeous today. Hair all clean from a fresh shower, washed-out jeans, and in his new flannel that you bought him. And that look upon his face, eyes narrowed playfully, filled with mirth; the chocolate brown speckled with hints of green. And that grin, encompassed by his freshly-trimmed beard. Why did he have to be so handsome... And smell so nice? And how did he shape his hair in that way, all cute and pointy? It truly fascinated you. 

"Uhhhh," You stammered intelligently, unsure of whether you should answer him. Or just keep thinking. Yeah, thinking sounded nice. Suddenly, you felt Logan's hands on either side of your body, your hands instinctively coming up to latch onto Logan's shoulders as he picked you up and onto the flour-free counter. "Logan..." You breathed out in slight shock and surprise. His hands wrapped around your waist, standing between your knees.

"If ya don't wanna talk, ya don't have to." He murmured lowly, his dark eyes scanning your features, making you shift in your seat slightly under his intense gaze. “I ain’t gonna force you to talk if ya don’t wan’ to.”

"And let me guess, it'll help if I talk about it?" You questioned with a chuckle, shaking your head slowly.

"It might." He answered confidently, nonchalantly.

You gave him a look, crossing your arms over your chest, "And what if I was just daydreaming? Is it so wrong to daydream?" Unable to stop the corners of your lips from twitching.

"Depends. Do ya daydream 'bout me?" Logan asked in response and you sighed exasperatedly, shrugging your shoulders slightly.

"Do I daydream about you, Lo?" You asked yourself as if you were thinking it over. "I don't know. What would you think if I did?" You then asked, gaining the courage to make eye contact. 

Logan raised a brow, his grin widening. "I'd be flattered, bub." He answered, as he watched you roll your eyes playfully.

"You would." You agreed, giving him a teasing grin.

"I probably would tease ya a bit." He continued, "Daydreamin' 'bout me and all."

"You would." You repeated, lowering your voice slightly with slight annoyance, glancing off to the side, right at your unfinished pie. You really needed to finish that pie… Maybe in the end you’d have enough leftover dough for smaller pies… That’d be cute…

"I'd probably kiss ya." Logan then said.

"You would-" You paused, blinking before turning to look up at him, eyes wide and face flushed. "Wait, what?" You asked, a confused look forming on your face. Did he really say what you thought he said..?

Logan's smirk dwindled, "Do you not want me to?" He asked, and you quickly responded by shaking your head.

"No! I mean, yes! I mean... Um…" You trailed off, trying to think of a way out of this embarrassing mess. "Um… I'd kinda… Like that…" You mumbled the last part, trying to hide how embarrassed you suddenly felt. You never expected him to say anything like that.

"Really?" Logan said, seeming genuinely surprised as he watched you nod. 

"Yup." You replied quickly, hoping that he wouldn't hear the faint squeak in your voice.

"You sure, bub?" He questioned. "Because, if this is gonna make you uncomf-"

Rolling your eyes, you uncrossed your arms, "Oh, shut up and kiss me, Logan." You growled, grabbing the collar of his flannel, and pulling him towards you, pressing your lips harshly against his own, making him pause for a moment before kissing back. Your hands went from his collar to tangled in his hair, tugging gently, while his grip on your hips tightened slightly. His fingers slid a bit under the hem of your shirt, burning against the small portion of your cool skin that he had found at your waist. After a few moments, you pulled back, panting slightly. "You taste like cherries." You muttered breathlessly.

"I may have snuck some when ya weren't lookin’." He grinned a toothy grin, looking down at you mischievously.

You chuckled slightly. "What am I going to do with you?" You commented, feeling his warm fingers brush through your hair as they rested on the nape of your neck before he leaned forward, capturing your lips once more.

---

Main Masterlist | X-Men Masterlist

[boopiemadz]

Fem!Reader x Travis where they get into an argument and y/n walks out/runs away, and it’s winter so it’s like snowing like crazy. Then Travis doesn’t stop looking for her the next day when he realizes that she’s gone

such a great idea! again sorry if this is a little rushed but I love getting requests!

also, if anyone wants to be moots dont be afraid to reachout, id love to connect. and req are open!

feel free to ask anything or simply say hi!

WARNINGS!

Death, Fem! reader

[Stumble in the dark]

---

Winter. 

Harsh yet delicate. Snow falling into place, breath becoming visible, hunger becoming unbearable. Due to the fact that rations are running out, Travis and Natalie have started going back out to hunt again. The weather never faltered, not like everyone had thought it would. And belt soup wasn't going to tie them over much longer. 

You never liked Travis going out there in the snow. Ever since the two of you started sneaking off together, he sort of became a shelter, a place for you to belong. It started out innocently enough, the two of you sneaking away to get some time to talk, overtime the connection grew, and you couldn't deny the feelings of butterflies in your stomach whenever his hand brushed past yours. At some point the lines between friends became more blurred, brushing hands turned into holding them, stolen stares turned into stolen kisses, friendship turned into something more.

When winter came, solace grew. But in the midst of that cold, you found yourself in Travis’s warm embrace, every moment filled with ache yet hope was right there in the form of your coach's son, who against all odds, decided to love you even in the most hopeless moments. 

---

Natalie and Travis had gone out to see if they could find some game a while ago. You never liked him being out there, even with all the layers you insisted he wore. When he went out you tried to distract yourself, play cards with Akilah, read a book, braid Lottie's hair. But nothing ever stopped you from worrying if he'd come back. 

Today it was your turn to take out the shit bucket. You swear the draw is rigged. So after a few hours trying to distract your mind from wandering to a dark place you finally zipped up your jacket and layered up to take the trek and dump the bucket. 

The cold wind on your face stung, eyes squinted and dry all the while smelling the stench of the bucket you were carrying. Walking through the woods alone was creepy, it felt like someone or something was watching you. 

That's when you heard footsteps. Then voices. You recognized them immediately as Nat and Travis. At least taking out the poop bucket had one up side. 

So you made your way to the voices, wanting to run into the pair and ask how much longer they were going to be out, the relief of knowing where they were overtaking the fear of unknowing. But as you got closer something in you stopped. Standing behind them about to say something when the conversation between the two shifted, and all you could do was stand there and listen.

---

Natalie spoke softly, “You ever think about what happens if we make it out of this?”

“I don’t waste time on what ifs.”

“I mean with her. You two have been... close. Doesn’t just go away.” 

He hesitates, jaw clenching. Eyes stay on the ground.

Travis speaks low,  “Yeah, well. Out here, things go away all the time.”

Natalie flinches slightly.  “Damn, okay. That’s cold.”

Travis responds fast, with urgency, “It doesn't really mean anything.”

And that’s the moment your heart pangs in your chest.

“It wasn’t supposed to mean anything.”

Your heart stutters,breath catches in your throat. You stand there silently, then turn and walk off without a word. 

A Few Seconds Later, after you've walked away, the conversation continues.

There’s a silence that settles over the snow, eerie and sharp.

Travis  speaks quietly, more to himself “I didn’t mean that.”

Natalie stops walking. “Then what did you mean?”

He runs a hand through his hair, eyes scanning the path where you had just been.

 “I meant... I didn’t think it’d be this real. That I’d care this much. That losing her would scare me more than anything else out here.”

Travis whispers “And now I don’t know how to hold onto her without hurting her.”

---

The wind screams against the cabin walls, sharp and furious, like it’s trying to claw its way inside. Snow falls heavy outside, blanketing everything in a thick white silence. The fire flickers, casting dancing shadows across tired, distant faces.

You sit in the corner, knees pulled to your chest, arms tight around yourself. You haven’t spoken since you got back. Not a word. Not since you heard him say it.

Not since you heard him say you weren’t supposed to mean anything.

You can feel him watching you. His footsteps crunch across the floorboards, and he stands in front of you. “You okay?” Travis asks, low, cautious.

You don’t answer.

He shifts, searching your face. “Did something happen?”

You look up, and your voice comes out quiet, cold: “You tell me. Did we happen?”

His brows furrow. “What?” he breathes.

You meet his eyes now. Let the weight of your hurt fall squarely into his chest.

“You said it wasn’t supposed to mean anything.”

You watch the color drain from his face.

“…You heard that?”

You let out a short, joyless laugh. “Yeah. Right after you said it’s not real. That people go away all the time.”

He looks like he’s been sucker punched. Like something inside him just cracked in half. He takes a step closer, panicked. “Y/N, I didn’t mean it like that. I—”

“Then say what you did mean.”

You’re standing now. Arms crossed. Heart pounding like a drum.

“Because I’ve been sitting here trying to figure out how you could hold me like I’m the only thing that keeps you together—and then go talk like I was nothing more than… comfort. A phase. Something to throw away before it could throw you.”

He stammers, mouth open, eyes wild. He looks like he wants to run or scream. Maybe both.

“You want the truth?” he blurts. “You make me forget. I forget how messed up this place is. What we’re stuck in. I forget that people disappear out here. That I already lost Javi. That I could lose you too.”

You feel that one deep. Like a blade twisting.

“So what?” your voice wavers. “You’d rather make me think I didn’t matter? That way it won’t hurt when I vanish too?”

He steps forward. Voice raw. “I’m trying to protect us. I’m trying to protect you.”

“By denying what we are?”

“By not needing you too much,” he snaps. “Because when I need people, they die.”

You blink hard, fighting the sting behind your eyes.

“I’m not dead yet,” you whisper.

The room goes quiet, the fire crackling in your ears.

“But I can’t sit here while you pretend like I never mattered.”

You move to grab your coat. Hands shaking. Breath hitched.

He reaches for your arm. “Don’t go out there. You can’t even see the trees in this snow.”

You look him in the eye, throat tight. “I already feel lost in here.” A beat. “At least the cold’s honest.”

You turn, open the door, and let the frozen wind smack you in the face. It burns. It bites. But at least it’s real.

He calls your name behind you, “Y/N!”

but you don’t turn back.

You walk into the white.

And the door slams shut behind you.

---

He doesn’t know how long it’s been. Two hours? Three? Maybe more. Time stopped mattering once the snow swallowed the trail behind him.

His legs burn. His hands are raw. His lips are cracked from the cold. He can’t feel his fingertips anymore.

But he keeps going.

Every branch looks the same. Every shadow feels like a trick. But the thought of stopping makes his stomach twist.

You’re still out here. Alone. In this.

And it’s his fault.

The trees sway around him like ghosts, their skeletal limbs heavy with snow. He stumbles again, his knee slamming into a rock hidden under the powder, but he forces himself up with a pained grunt.

He can’t stop. Not until he finds you.

The wind quiets for a second, and in the silence, he hears it: his own heartbeat, racing, thudding in his ears like it’s trying to drown out the memories.

Your laugh. The way your nose crinkles when you smile. The way your fingers hooked into his jacket when you kissed him like he was something precious.

God, why didn’t he just say it? Why did he pull back when he could’ve leaned in?

Why did he let fear speak louder than love?

He presses a hand to a tree, chest heaving. Snow falls in clumps from the branches above, but he barely notices.

“I should’ve just told you,” he whispers. “I should’ve told you I love you.”

He does. He does.

Not the safe kind of love, distant, quiet, buried under fear. But the kind that terrifies you. The kind that grabs your ribs and doesn’t let go. The kind that makes you want to stay alive in a world that’s doing everything to make you forget why.

And he let it go. He pushed you away because the thought of needing you hurt more than the thought of losing you.

But now? Now the idea of losing you makes everything else feel like a slow death.

“Please,” he breathes into the silence, almost praying to the wilderness, begging. “Let me find her. Just let me find her. I’ll fix it. I’ll say everything. Just let me find her.”

He stumbles on, through trees that blur at the edges of his vision. The wind howls again, loud and angry. And still, he shouts into it:

“I love you! Do you hear me?” His voice cracks. “I should’ve said it before. I should’ve said it!”

His throat burns. His shoulders shake. And still, he walks.

Because no matter how much the cold claws at him, no matter how far he has to go,

Losing you is worse.

---

It’s the barest flicker of color in a sea of white that catches his eye.

Travis stumbles, rubs the snow from his lashes, and blinks hard. His whole body aches. His lips are cracked, his fingers numb. He’s been calling your name until his throat gave out, and even now, he’s rasping out broken, voiceless pleas like a prayer.

But then he sees it, your jacket, nearly hidden beneath a snowdrift, curled beneath a pine, so still it takes a moment to register that it’s you.

“Y/N.”

The name tears from his chest like a sob.

He collapses to his knees beside you, shoveling snow away with shaking hands. Your face is cold. Your lips pale. He leans close, presses trembling fingers under your jaw, holding his breath. There. A faint pulse.

He lets out a choked noise, something between a gasp and a thank-you-God sob.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you, hold on, please, just hold on.”

He lifts you into his arms. You don’t stir. You’re limp against him, head lolled against his shoulder, breath shallow.

But you’re alive.

And he will not lose you now.

---

He crashes through the front door with snow in his hair and desperation in his voice.

“Move,move! I need blankets! Water, hot water, now!”

Mari gasps. Someone else is already running to help. But Travis isn’t hearing words. He’s moving on instinct, laying you by the fire just long enough to strip off your jacket, to feel the frozen wetness of your clothes.

“Come on, come on,” he mumbles under his breath, unbuckling your boots, rubbing at your arms. Your skin’s like ice.

He carries you again, into the attic where the tub was already steaming, and he doesn’t wait. He strips you gently, reverently, like you’re glass, like you might shatter if he moves too fast.

Then he lowers you into the water, slow and careful, and you flinch, just a little, from the heat. But that tiny twitch is everything.

He kneels beside the tub, scooping water into his hands and pouring it over your arms, your shoulders, your neck. Whispering your name. Softly. Over and over.

“You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay. I’m here.”

He doesn’t leave your side.

He changes the water when it cools. He wraps you in every blanket he can find. He sits with you on the edge of the bed after, holding your hand as your breathing evens out and your body starts to shake from the slow return of warmth.

---

It’s hours before you speak. You'd move to sitting by the fireplace in the main room, just staring at the fire.

Your voice is weak, barely audible. “Travis?”

He jolts up from where he’d been sitting at your feet. His eyes are bloodshot, and his face is pale and tight with exhaustion and fear.

“I’m here,” he breathes, reaching for your hand. He wraps it in both of his, pressing it to his lips like it might vanish if he lets go.

You blink at him slowly, trying to remember. The snow. The tree. His voice. Then warmth. Then now.

“You found me…”

He nods. His throat tightens. And then he looks down, like he can’t quite hold your gaze when he says it.

“You could’ve died.” The words crack open something in his voice. He shakes his head, a bitter, broken laugh under his breath. “And I would’ve never forgiven myself. Never.”

You start to sit up, and he helps you with a gentle hand behind your back. Blankets fall around you, warm and heavy.

“You didn’t mean for me to hear that,” you whisper.

He flinches.

Silence.

Then, his voice. Quiet. Honest. Raw.

“No. I didn’t.”

He runs a hand over his face, leans forward like he’s carrying the weight of everything he hasn’t said. His voice shakes when he speaks again.

“I said those things because I was scared.”

You blink, watching him carefully.

“Scared of me?”

He shakes his head. “No. Scared of how much I need you.”

He lets the words hang there, like they might tear him apart.

“I’ve lost too many people. And I thought… if I pretended we didn’t matter, maybe I wouldn’t lose you too.” He swallows hard. “But then you were gone, and I realized, I already did.”

Your breath catches. He looks up, eyes glassy but finally meeting yours.

“I love you.”

It’s not soft. It’s not tentative. It’s real.

“I love you, and I would rather lose you knowing we loved each other with everything we had… then keep pretending it doesn’t matter and still lose you anyway.”

You don’t speak right away.

You just stare at him, heart thudding, throat thick.

And then, quietly, finally, you reach for him.

He exhales, a deep, shaking breath of something like relief. Like forgiveness. He leans into your touch, his forehead resting against yours, tears slipping silently down his cheeks.

Outside, the storm is ending.

Inside, so is the silence.

---

[meowzfordayz]

sledding

Author’s Note: feeling out of practice writing wise, but hope you enjoy this tidbit of wintery wonder nonetheless. 🛷❄️

sledding

Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader, Shinazugawa Sanemi x Reader, Tomioka Giyuu x Reader, Uzui Tengen x Reader

Word Count: ~700

CW: explicit language

~faqs~

“Are you ready to go sledding?!” 😁

“... sledding?” 😴

You’re still half asleep, Kyojuro’s cheerful voice matching the insistent sunlight streaming into the bedroom

“Sledding!!” 😁😁

Do you even own sleds? 🤨

“I made us sleds this morning!” 🤗

What time is it?? 🥱

Also-

Your eyes blink open

“You made me a sled???” 😳

You may be half asleep, but damn if you aren’t swooning out of bed and getting dressed to go sledding with your dream of a man 😍

“I tried to,” he amends, “They fell apart when I test rode them into town, but I found professionally crafted sleds after I arrived.”

“Kyojuro, I can’t believe you made us sleds.”

“Yes, well, they are fueling the fire now.” 😅

“That’s fine,” you grin softly, sleepy gaze finally focusing enough to take in the shimmering adoration of your lover, his enthusiasm rivaling—and beating—the coziness of your blankets, “Sledding in ten minutes?”

“Perfect!” ❤️‍🔥

“Knowing you, this is going to end with you sledding yourself into oblivion and me desperately scrambling to the bottom of a cliff in tattered hopes of saving you.” 😐

“How poetic.” 😌 … 😏 “I didn’t pin you as the desperate type.”

Sanemi growls, “Shut up.”

“In case you didn’t notice, this is a pretty mellow hill. Definitely no cliffs in the vicinity.”

“You’ll find one.”

“You’re being unreasonable.”

“Cautious.” 😒

“The Wind Pillar isn’t a cautious man.”

“Well right now I’m not the Wind Pillar. I’m Sanemi, and I love you.”

Awww 🥹

“Is the snow getting to your brain already?” 🧐

“You like when I’m all sappy and shit.” 🙄

“You are pretty cute when you’re worrying about me.” 😍

“No injuries,” he says sternly, “And no cliffs.”

“Got it,” you wink, “I love you!”

—

Sanemi might roll his eyes at you, but you know better

He was the one who invited you to go sledding 🤭

“What?”

You swallow a giggle, your sled halting beside Giyuu’s, his legs and arms tangled in brambles as flecks of snow float onto his head and shoulders

“What?” 🥲

“I thought you’d be a little more coordinated.” 😆

He blushes faintly, staring down at his knees with a quiet sigh

“But I guess all it takes to topple the mighty Water Pillar is a wooden sled.” 🤭

“I told you I’ve never done this before.”

You hate to see him so crestfallen ☹️

“You were doing so well.” 🥹

He smirks knowingly, “This is the third bush.”

“The steering isn’t intuitive?” 😅

“The third bush in about five meters.”

You stand up, your sled in one hand as you brush excess snow off your pants with the other

“Do you want to ride together?”

Giyuu snorts, “Do you want to end up in a bush?” 🙃

“With you?” you grin, leaning down to kiss his cold forehead, “Absolutely.” 🥰

“What if I hit a tree?” you pout

The hill is very hilled, and the trees at the bottom look very… tree-y 😵‍💫

Tengen shrugs, “You’re not going to hit a tree.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you’re smarter than that,” he replies airily

You pause, “Am I though…?”

“... … …?” 😬

*cue indignation* / *cue instant groveling*

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME.” 😠 / “OF COURSE YOU’RE SMART! You’re SOOOOO intelligent!” 😭

“Tengen.” 😐

“Dig your heels into the ground.”

“How about we just sled together?” ☺️

For the first time in forever, fluttering your eyelashes gets you nowhere

“Pleeease?” 🥺

Nothing.

“Why nooooot?” 😢

He’s only a little pink when he mutters, “Then how are we gonna race?” 🤓

—

Unsurprisingly, Tengen wins the race by a lot

Also unsurprisingly, Tengen crashes into a tree

No pain, no gain

“ARE YOU OKAY?” 😳

“Are you okay?” 😏

????? It would appear that he is grinning

“Y’know, okay with being a LOSER?” 😎

To his credit, he carries you and the sleds all the way home 🫡

[venusandsaturnsrings]

you roll his hands between your own, playing with the metal joints connecting his fingers as he looms above you with a self-satisfied grin. rouge dusts your cheeks from the handful of drinks you’ve shared with the cowboy between flirtatious remarks and subtle physical intimacy. but now, he’s got you against the wall as he purrs something about how pretty you are in the dim and grungy bar lighting. you’re quickly giggling in response with one hand coming to rest on his chest as you bat your eyelashes playfully, telling him he’s a real sleaze for buttering up a taken women though you’re taken by him. boothills gently twirling your hair around, kissing the strands as sweet as his next words, “let me take you in another way.”

then you’re stumbling down an alleyway laughing as he expertly shoots bottles off ledges and kisses each bullet, for you, of course. the ground is wet beneath your shoes and you know very well scrubbing off the mud will prove to be a pain but you also know nothing cures pain quite like a single look at the cowboy who’s got you wrapped around his steel finger. he’s tugging you through winded pathways, twirling you under street lamps, and kissing you behind dumpsters like it’s the most romantic thing in the world and it really is when it’s him. he’s got you under one arm when he pulls you back into the dingy motel, the receptionist glaring at your three in the morning rowdiness but boothill has you convinced an extra hundred or so credits in the morning will patch that dented relationship.

you’re inside the room, back against the door as he plays with the hem of your shirt when your tipsy mind mumbles it playfully. it’s meant to be a joking jab at his protective yet playful demeanour, one that plays off of cheesy lines you’ve heard in bad adult movies or between a pair of lovers that’s a bit too hands on and slimy in public. it’s nothing tainted with malice or meant to slice open stitches made by inexperienced hands but, his reaction is immediate.

“c’mon, don’t play around with me daddy,” and he locks up before jolting away from you like a hot iron. it catches you off guard and all you can do is blink as boothill stands stiff and plainly hurt. you’re confused but stutter out an apology laced with hesitation and the delicacy of snow. but he stares. he stares and doesn’t speak a word for what may as well be hours in your formerly-tipsy-now-painfully-sober mind. then he swallows and turns around, headed for the crooked sliding door that leads to what can’t be an inspector approved balcony. he leaves the door open and you’re not sure you should follow till he takes of his hat and looks back, almost pleading.

there’s no chairs and you’re sat on the dirty wood next to him in silence. boothill moves to push back his hair uncharacteristically exposing both eyes when he finally looks your way, something heavy weighing in them. you’re pretty sure he’s going to ask to break up when he starts spilling apologies and faux curses. he sighs, and you think it’s coming, but then the story starts. you’d never heard about his life before the wanted posters and galaxy ranger status but he’s throwing it all on the table, every card, chip, and eye exposed, when he tells you he had a daughter. not one by blood but one he loved all the same, one he mourns for in words he’ll never be able to write and you try to understand. it’s not easy work but you’re pulling his head down onto your shoulder and he’s going through the motions of what should be crying but without the tears and you’re kissing his knuckles like he might disintegrate.

he doesn’t blame you. not even a little bit. but it’s sore and raw and he can’t help but feel; you’ll never tell him not to. though it’s not much, you pull boothill back in the room and promise a better future while making a mental note to commission an artisan for a decorative bullet with her name. you fall asleep together with clothes not even changed but hoping someday you’ll be able to ease all his pain.

tomorrows a new day and that’s where you’ll start. together.

[arminsumi]

hii!! hru?? i hope ur doing finee!! :))

so i have a request 😭😭 imagine olden times gojo satoru x reader, reader comes from the lower class poor family and gojo is the higher rich class 🤩🤩 gojo and reader go to school together and gojo is rlly known and popular in school so reader gets curious and tries to talk/start a conversation with him!! then they become friends but they eventually both develop feelings for eachother 😭😭 but because of their differences they cant get together/love eachother and gojo's parents dont rlly support gojo marrying a poor girl and want him to marry someone with a high status!! (u can make gojo have a future arranged marriage if u want, i jus need an angsty fluff fic 😭)

✎ runaway lovers

💗 さとる

note : i found this buried deep in the drafts !! :( i'm late but i wrote this in one go and it was so fun, i got so absorbed into the story... ugh i'm a sucker for olden day gojo stuff. one of my fav posts was that hanahaki gojo fic. anyways!! aaa i swooned a bit at the part he says "i will always find my way hom and she is my home" 🥹

content : one day at school, those six eyes catch you spying through the gap in the door, and from that moment on gojo satoru grows fascinated with you. he just has to introduce himself to you. he doesn't care about the whispers around him and just falls right in love. unfortunately, his parents frown upon you two being together, and they try their best to pry the two of you apart.

warnings : fem reader, angsty fluffy, misunderstandings, gojo gets put into an arranged marriage, forbidden romance trope

playme : you're in love

"gojo satoru...?" you question curiously.

your friend nods, starry-eyed. "you know, from the gojo clan? oh, he's so... he's just... you can't even envision how good-looking he is; you just have to see him with your own eyes. come on."

"alright..." you chuckle, letting her lead you down the corridors. she trips clumsily on the way.

the two of you peer into the senior student's class. you whisper under your breath to her, "which one is he? there's so many people in the room... and i can barely see."

"just search the room. you'll know him when you see him. he stands out." your friend whispers excitedly.

your eyes look searchingly. and then they land on a head of snow-white hair; there's a boy, two years your senior, sitting upright like a stick and clad in a blue-toned kimono with an endearingly simple pattern on it — but you're not fooled, that's the highest quality silk. a clan crest stares at you, as his back faces you.

You peer through this slit in the door.

you're staring at him like you're spellbound. and... those hyper-attentive six eyes catch onto you right away.

gojo curiously peers behind him over his shoulder. when you see his face, it immediately makes sense why your friend — like so many other girls in this school — is completely taken by him.

and he... he's taken by you, the instant the two of you make electric eye contact. you look away as if singed by spilled boiling tea.

gojo's heart thumps in his chest.

who was that, just now, peering through the slit in the door? she was...

"good-looking, isn't he?" your friend smugly nudges your shoulder as the two of you scamper away like mice, escaping outside.

gojo's class concludes moments after catching you spying through the slit in the shoji door, so he quickly makes a path to follow after you as you escape to the taiko bashi bridge with your friend as if you're two criminals.

and he ends up eavesdropping on your conversation at a prime moment.

"...he looked like an angel..." you say in awe. his heart flutters and he widens his eyes, straining his ears to hear more but the bush of flowers is fluttering so loudly in the wind that it makes it difficult. so much for six eyes... what he wishes he had right now is six ears.

he picks up fragments of your voice. it gives him... butterflies, for the first time he understands what it means to have butterflies in one's stomach.

"...ah, don't tease me...!"

he blinks his pretty eyes and listens to you.

"...i can't possibly introduce myself to him...he's not just my senior...he's the prodigal son of the gojo clan..."

his heart... does something. a smug look forms on his face.

well... if she can't find the courage to introduce herself to me, then i'll introduce myself to her.

and so he does. when his best friend accompanies him on a gliding exit walk along the bridge, he stops by you and...

he bows deeply, like you're a very important person. but you're not, you're a commoner in most eyes at this school... and yet he doesn't treat you as such. it even takes his best friend, suguru, by surprise because he knows satoru to usually be a bit pompous.

electric eye contact is made between you and satoru when the two of you rise from your greeting bows.

"have we met before?" he begins smoothly, "your face reminds me of a girl i met in a dream."

your throaty stutter endears him, but makes his best friend snicker.

"satoru... don't go around flirting with monkeys." he says meanly.

for the first time, satoru ignores something that his best friend says. a reality-shattering moment, really, suguru widens his eyes as satoru asks; "what's your name...?" as if he's desperate and determined to know it.

and that's where it all begins. on the taiko bashi bridge. one spring.

it doesn't take long for his parents to find out that he's conversing with a commoner, and they put a stop to it immediately. not only because of your status... but because they don't want him to be "distracted". he needs to keep a "narrow focus" on his studies. and... they refuse to let some commoner mingle romantically with their precious prodigal son.

girls snicker in secret about you. rumors spread that you forwardly introduced yourself to gojo.

"i heard that she chased after gojo-senpai and desperately tried to introduce herself to him. she's obsessed with him or something, it's really pathetic!"

speak of the devil... no no, he's an angel like you said... satoru appears. not a word slipped by him. it makes his blood surge, is stomach twist; they had some nerve. he wants to cuss them out, be improper and raw and visceral. but he refrains. because consequences.

"i'll have to correct you two," satoru's sudden appearance shocks them out of their bodies. that voice is chilling. "it was actually me who initiated that introduction on the bridge. she was too lovely to ignore..."

oh, satoru... why did you choose the word 'lovely'? now rumors begin to circulate the school that you two are dating. they rapidly make their way to his parent's ears, and while his father may be lax on his lectures, his mother is strict.

she parts the two of you. cleaves your budding friendship. rips the two of you like paper, refusing to let her son be tainted or distracted by someone like you.

but does he listen to his mother's orders to never speak to you? no. he sneaks out to meet you after school. he squeezes in through your window at night with a toothy grin. he secretly invites you to his birthday parties ("where has the birthday boy run off to...?"). he holds your hand when no one is looking.

and he cups your cheeks and leans in for forbidden little kisses when it's just you and him in the vacant school corridor.

your faces melt like butter against each other. it makes his heart lurch to have a forbidden fruit touching his lips like this... it makes him feel weak, which is just laughably ironic. so weak, that he wants to take a bite... even if it puts both the reputation of him and his family in jeopardy.

there's a sad twinge in his chest when he thinks about how you and him are forced to keep your love secret.

"i'm sorry that... i can't show off something as beautiful as you without getting the both of us in trouble. i wish we could kiss right in front of the whole world's face." he admits in a soft murmur.

it's simple, these sad times. but then the future comes and delivers despairing news on gojo.

one day, while having tea with his mom and dad, they tell him that a marriage between him and another woman is being considered.

he violently jumps up from the table. a teacup shatters on the floor.

"huh...?" his shock and surprise slowly morphs into pure anger, "like hell! you can't j-just spring this on me. i refuse to be married to anyone except y/n—"

"—that commoner? you... still speak with her?"

his face drops. oh, shit... now he's given it all away.

and what a consequence he faces. locked into his room, like some funny version of rapunzel. he paces around, mind racing and heart palpitating.

his contact with you is cut off in the most brutal of ways.

his mother comes to you, and tells you with a convincingly icy lie;

"gojo is too kind to tell you himself... so he asked me to inform you instead; he never wants you to see him again. his heart has found a wife, and he doesn't want you to seduce him away."

you remember choking up and sputtering broken sobs at this reveal.

he couldn't tell you from himself... ah... did those kisses mean nothing? am i the other woman?

gojo doesn't know why you avoid him so violently the next time he sees you at school.

"hey — wait. can i talk to you? it's important." he asks.

you give him a bitter look. "i'd rather we not. i don't fancy being the other woman in your life..."

you confuse him. and he blinks at you astoundedly. what caused this? he's a smart boy, he tries to figure it out. but it leads to long nights of brooding in his futon, body sinking deep into the plush until he feels like gravity is accelerating on him alone. but it's just his thoughts. he tosses and turns.

he doesn't give up his determination, though. he will find out what deterred you from him...

oh but when he figures it out, through suguru's admittance, he bursts in through his mother's tea ceremony one day and confronts her with the rage of a dragon. right in front of guests. completely embarrassing her.

"you told her! you lied to her? do you think you can keep us separate forever? — NO. I WILL ALWAYS FIND MY WAY BACK HOME. AND SHE IS MY HOME!"

his yell is so piercing and raw that it makes his mother drop into her seat. the guests have mixed looks.

the backlash he receives for lashing out and denouncing his arranged marriage is severe. the scowling looks he receives are not nearly as bad as the ones you receive. unkind words is putting it lightly; the whole village and school turns against you. they still view gojo as the star child of his clan, but now as a star that has strayed from its rightful place in the sky.

he meets with you in secret. what begins as a tearful explanation and angsty bunch of confessions to hidden truths, turns into a steamy make out.

gojo needs your kisses like he needs air, like he needs water, like he needs food. you're his essential, he tells you that;

"my vitals would fail if you left, as if i would be stabbed."

he mutters against your lips other things... and then cries with you. it hurts to see such a pretty boy cry.

"satoru..." you begin soothingly.

he presses his forehead against yours. tear drops roll off his cheeks and splatter against your face.

he draws out your name. the wind stills. there's a long silence.

"...run away with me..." he murmurs. "please, let's leave this place behind... and start a family somewhere no one knows our names."

© arminsumi 2023

[sashasgunwound]

misses pt.2 - M.S

summary: in which you finally meet matt again after a year of no contact, trying to push out the truth from matt

warnings: use of y/n, not proofread, exbsf!matt, y/n used to like matt, no smut, angst, sad, mention of love next ->

You stared down at your shoes, the chill of the wooden bench seeping through your thin pajama pants, biting against your skin. Your hands moved restlessly, rubbing together to conjure any warmth they could find. Despite your best efforts to turn this visit into something positive, the loneliness crept in like a cold draft, impossible to ignore. You slipped in your earbuds, the faint sound of music filling your ears as you hummed along, trying to drown out the silence that pressed in from all sides.

Just a few years ago you were hanging out with all 3 of them. It was all so exciting, so new and cozy. Matt understood me, he knew me. So well. He could never be mistaken.

Matt made winter warmer and cozier. He made you wanna go drive around He made it fun to go to school. He made you fall in love with autumn. He made you fall in love. Fall. In. Love?

That word wasn’t familiar anymore to you, even though it was something you never spoke of.

You hate winter, for it reminds you of the biting chill in the air, And how unfriendly the snow can be, blanketing the world in its icy indifference.

You hate school, it reminds you of the hours of your life you’d spend with your love of your life, pouring out your soul to him. But all that time now felt it as if it was cut in the unseeing pieces of you crushed up and brushed under the rug

You hate autumn, you hate how all the leaves slowly fade away, curling into themselves, timidly hanging off the once full of life tree, now just a painfully sorrowful and uninviting sigh, and you just have to observe, the nature reversing the birth of something so beautiful, now reachings it’s end of it’s time. You can’t stop it.  

Just like you couldn’t stop Matt.

A few moments pass by, you sat alone as you tapped your shoes against the concert pavement along to the music, observing the nostalgic park that once used to be so colourful, now so dull.

You heard distant footsteps as your music wasn’t as loud, you still wanted to hear the trees swishing in the wind, and the cars humming against the road.

The footsteps come to a halt.

A tall figure stands, his hands in his hoodie pockets. “Y/N?” You hear a familiar voice, in an almost shocked or confused tone. The cold air puffs out of his mouth as he speaks.

You looked up, your brows furrowed, caught in the haze of memories that once brought comfort but now stirred only distress and nausea. The voice held a faint trace of familiarity. You stood slightly hunched, your puffer jacket as poofy as ever, hands buried deep in your pockets, desperately seeking warmth.

“Matt?”

Your jaw dropping almost immediately. Your stomach stringing knots, a feeling that brings you comfort. Whenever you saw Matt that feeling would never go away.

“What the- What’re you doing here?” He asked me, pulling out one of his hands from his pocket to rub his neck.

You suddenly couldn’t speak, anxiety cripples over you. I can’t mess this up.

Is this a dream? 

Your voices get caught in your throat.

“U-um, I’m just- trying to get a break from all the work.” You cleared your throat. 

Obviously you wouldn’t say; ‘I’m just so in love with you I can’t get over you and I needed to come here and reminisce all the times we had together in this park. And how I almost confessed to you but Chris and Nick both felt sick so you had to drop me off and I never even thought of doing it again.”

“Oh, obviously.” He shook his head. “Um, it’s weird to see you here, at 5- almost 6am.” He chuckled dryly.

“Same to you. I thought- you were at L.A?” You took out your earbuds to hear his sudden urge to leave you and not only without a message, without an update or any contact.

His eyes widened at the sudden question. “Oh. About that, I’m sorry I never talked to you. I just- I couldn’t get the courage to tell you, that’d-” He cut himself off. His head falling into his free hand.

“I couldn’t tell you that I was moving there.” He said sternly. He rubbed above his eyebrows with his thumb and index finger. “I never understood why you wouldn’t tell me that, especially after you told me specifically that you’d never move there.” 

You let out a heavy sigh, the hurt and frustration clear in your voice. But none of that mattered—you needed to know what was running through his mind at that very moment.

“Our manager, we just listened to her. And I feel like I just betrayed you– And I know, I’m so, so, so sorry.” His brows furrowed, a silent plea in his eyes, desperate for you to understand.

You shook your head softly and chuckled. “You know me. You. know. me, Matt. That’s the crazy thing.”

You got up from the bench, and a gust of wind made shivers run down your spine. The dawn’s threatening wind howls at you, expressing that suppressed anger you felt rushing through your blood.

“I wouldn’t ever get mad at you for leaving to move to L.A, yeah sure I’d be confused but that’s the thing. I love you enough to understand.” You spat out, your brain not registering anything. You were fuming in anger. Tears brimming your eyes, you just wish it could all stop and it’d just be a crushing and unforgettable nightmare.

“I love you?” He repeated. He tried to hold in his sadness.

“Why didn’t you tell me this?” He asked, his voice a fragile whisper, nearly lost in the mournful wails of the wind.

You didn't even feel surprised, not a flicker of shock or self-reproach in your eyes. You just spoke the words, as if they'd been waiting on your lips all along.

You meant every word—you loved him, and you had for what felt like an eternity.

Since freshman year. Now you’re in your 3rd year of University. Seven years of silent eye contact stretched far beyond their welcome, A longing gaze that lingered longer than either of us ever imagined. What began as a fleeting moment has swelled into a restless ache, A quiet storm that stirs the heart and keeps me awake at night.

“I didn’t tell you because it would ruin everything I wanted not to slip away from my grasp, I didn’t want my love to drive me away from this– and not that it worked, you still left. You left a hole through my already tender heart. I haven’t healed, not even a bit. I’m sore, I can’t sleep, can't eat. I can’t do anything.” You sniffled, desperate tears, threatening to escape, tingling your inner corners of your eyes. Leaving them red.

“You tore a jagged hole through my tender, forgiving heart,

Vanishing as if you were never meant to be seen.

You slipped away, a shadow in the night—

Quietly, cruelly, and without a trace of regret.”

Is exactly what I journaled in my book almost every time. It was the only way I could express it.

Words were my thing.

Our thing.

I’m sorry,

I loved you.

erm so this is very bad i hate the way i worded it but i think it turned out better than expected. (but i still dont like it)

tags: @starkeyszn

comment to be added to the taglist :)

[admirationandromantics]

Guilt and Grudges, 2: Darkness

Another one out, hope you guys like it so far! I don't really know what to write on these intros anymore, since not much is happening. I'm getting ready for exams, I'm working, and I'm writing. That's about it. I almost forgot to post this chapter tonight because of it, lol. Anyways, enjoy! <3

I try not to breathe loudly, but this is intense. Was it always so hard to get to the top? We walk up a couple of stairs and take a turn. In front of us is a large dark figure, and I look up to meet Josh. 

“Hey man, what’s up?” 

He smiles, giving Sam a nudge on the shoulder to greet her. I see a faint blush on her cheek, but I can’t determine if it’s caused by him or the cold. 

“Not much, waiting for you of course” 

“Man, I feel like this mountain gets bigger every time I climb it” Chris exclims, a loud sigh forced out when talking another step. 

“Really? Feels the same to me” 

“Oh come on, you grew up here, it probably feels like it’s shrinking” 

“I guess that’s true” 

I interrupt them both, cold and tired, wanting to get to the lodge as fast as possible. 

“Hey Josh, nice to see you, BUT how about we keep moving?” 

“Well, can’t keep the ladies waiting, can we Cochise?” 

“We cannot” 

I meet Sam’s eyes, and she’s also tired, not as bad as me, but still. She grabs my hand and starts dragging me up as I whine. “Sam, I was joking, we can make some snow angels or something. Just lay down, romantically, looking up at the stars…” 

“It’s clouded” 

“That’s the only reason why we’re not doing it?” 

She laughs, and I pull myself together. It isn’t long now. Despite the cold weather, snow, wind, heavy bags and ice, I finally glimpse the dark pine planks of the lodge. 

“When are you gonna install some cell towers up here? I’m getting withdrawals already” Chris asks, and I hurry to the stairs, sitting down and relaxing. Sam stands over me, breathing heavily as well. Were we really that out of shape? 

“You got a spare million lying around, I’ll fix you right up” Josh empties his pockets, showing the lack. Chris starts fumbling around with his blue jacket, feeling himself up. I want to do that. 

“Funny you should say that, I think I left it in my other jacket” 

They start walking towards us, probably about to open the door. Finally. Josh scurries up the stairs, flickering with a couple of keys. Chris follows through, his hand brushing lightly against the hood of my jacket. Fucking hell. How am I supposed to survive this if every little touch makes me heat up like this? It’s fucking embarrasing. Luckily, no one seems to notice, not even Sam. 

“Yo, yo, yo, are we getting things moving up here or what?” 

“Yeah man” 

I lift my head to Sam, and we share a look. This “boy-talk” is already drilling a hole in my head. I think she hates it even more than I do, her eyes rolling so far back her head that I can’t see her irises. A smile finds its way to my lips. If Josh and her got together, she would smack him every time he said something weird, I just know it. And Josh’s reply? Definitely something like “yes ma’am” or “as you wish”. There’s no secret that he’s down bad for her. 

“Lead the way, Cochise” 

I hear them moving down the stairs, each thump vibrating through my body. 

“What’s going on?” I ask Sam, who’s looking up at them attentively, following every move. 

“Frozen lock, I think” 

They both get down, Josh continuing around the lodge. Chris, however, stops in front of me, mouth opening then closing, as if trying to say something. This leads to Sam taking a step back, giving me a thumbs up from behind him. I give a hard stare in reply. She can’t be that obvious around him. 

He’s smiling, that sweet smile that he always does when happy. I look up in awe, hoping to control my eyes a bit. He lifts his head, finally speaking. 

“So, how’re you doing?” 

“Hmm, good now. Surprised by how out of shape I’ve gotten” I laugh, a bit embarrassed by myself. Ugh, if he could just hoist me over his shoulders right now I would never speak ill of the guys again. And that’s a challenge. 

“Well, it is right after the exams. Are you freezing?” 

“Yeah a little” I think about the fire inside. Sitting in front of it, warming ourselves. There are other ways to do that too though. Jesus Christ I’m letting my mind wander again. “I think I could use some time curled up by the fire” I continue, looking at him intently. I can imagine the yellowly lights gracing his face, his skin. I almost feel disgusted by myself for being so forward about it, I really don’t mean to. 

His smile falls a bit, mouth still open as he takes a deep breath. I can see him swallow, and a sinking feeling embraces me. Oh no, I’ve been caught, he knows, and this is not the right time, not after everything that’s happened. I’m definitely stupid. 

“Yeah… that does sound pretty nice” 

His voice is different, breathy and serious. He keeps eye contact, holding intently as if trying to say something else, trying to get me to understand something. I don’t know what. 

“Christopher Hartley! I’ll have to call your mother and complain if you don’t get your ass here immediately!” Josh shouts from the other side. I give him a weak smile, arm raising in a small wave as he makes his way over. His absence is already noted on my body. I already miss him. 

Not seeing him in almost a year, to spend an eternity with going up the mountain, then just leaving? I’m being dramatic, I know that. But he feels like a drug, the small dose getting more and more wanting. My cravings are growing by the second. We left off at a terrible time, starting something that wouldn’t even make it an hour. And the circumstances make it even more difficult. How can we start up again without feeling guilty for the things that happened? Without being reminded by them. If we were downstairs, we could’ve stopped them. Or we could’ve reached Hannah or Beth. I wish we had. 

“I’ve seen a lot of foreplay in my days, but what the hell was that?” A familiar voice sounds beside me. I look up, meeting Matt and Ashley. 

“Way to greet me Matty” 

“I mean, come on. The tension is obviously there, do something about it” 

“Leave her alone Matt, they were both thinking about fucking each other by the fire” Ashley chimes in, a playful smirk on her lips. I look at the both of them, shocked by the incredibly rude greeting. 

“You haven’t even said hello” 

“I saw you four days ago” she defends, arms in the air and taking a step backwards. 

“I’m sorry, hello, anyways-” 

“Nope” I stop him, finger put up in the air. I stand up, walking to the other side of the lodge. No way I was gonna be teased this way. I mean, what if Chris suddenly opened the door behind us? That’d make for an awkward situation. I hear one last thing before I turn the corner. 

“She’s embarrassed we’re right” 

Assholes. I’m not that obvious, at least I try not to be. Ashley knows because I’ve told her, and so does Sam, who also told Josh last year. Now Matt also knows, though I don’t know how. I would’ve answered the same thing if someone else asked, maybe in a different tone, but still the same. 

“Alright, alright, I got it. Jeez” 

“You’ve got what?” I ask, surprising him from behind. He mumbles, cheeks getting flushed and not meeting my gaze. He looks everywhere but me. 

“He’s got a plan!” Josh shouts, hand waving, signalling for us to follow. I walk beside Chris, sensing his nervousness and wondering what’s got him so worked up. 

“What kind of plan?” 

“A secret one” 

I laugh, the silliness of it being a bit unnerving. Still, I’m intrigued, wanting to know more. 

“Can I be part of it?” 

“Oh, trust me, I believe you will” 

“Great, can’t wait” 

Josh laughs, and I smile, unknowing of what I’ve joined in on. Chris is still silent, swallowing hard and looking out in the forest. 

“So, how’re we planning on breaking into my parents lodge?” 

“We’re breaking in?” 

Chris finally chimes in, letting me hear his voice and see his face. “It’s NOT technically breaking in if you own the place” 

“We’ve already had this conversation” Josh sighs, turning around and walking backwards. 

“How’re we getting in?” I ask, retraveling back to the original question. If the door doesn’t work, maybe a window or another backdoor will. 

“Well, I didn’t say I had a plan on how to do it” 

“You sounded like you had a plan” Josh throws out his hands in despair, head to the sky as he sighs dramatically. “You better deliver, or else you got five lovely ladies who are gonna be freezing their buns off, and last time I checked, that’s not a good way to get laid” 

Chris tenses up again, giving a low huff in response. I laugh, Josh teasing him is hilarious. 

“Wouldn’t want to spoil Josh’s plans with Sam” I whisper to him, just loud enough to make Josh hear. Chris’s lips move up in a smile. 

“Hey, I’ve got A LOT of plans for you this weekend, just so you know. So don’t get too surprised” 

“Bet Sam will be surprised” 

“Oh, shut up guys” 

We get to the side of the house, waiting for someone to form an idea. I look around. An empty fire-axe display, a couple of windows and a power box. Chris moves to the power box, and Josh follows. 

“We’ve got ourselves a thinker, nice on” 

They place themselves on either side of the box, one pulling and one pushing. I run over to help, suddenly aware that I’m not doing anything. A few grunts and pushes, and the box is right under the window. I breathe out. Almost wish I hadn’t helped them, that was hard. 

Chris wastes no time, and jumps on top, slightly grunting as he does. Josh signals for me to follow, and I nod. He gives me his hand, and I take it, letting him help me up on the slippery box. A loud thud is heard, followed by whining. 

“I’m okay!” 

I help Josh up, and we move over to look in through the window. Chris is laid flat on his back, eyes pinched closed and arms spread. I give a small laugh. He’s adorable. 

“Should’ve paid more attention in climbing class” 

Josh and I immediately share a look, both of us furrowing our brows and wrinkle our noses. We look back, and he has already begun lifting himself up. 

“You mean gym?” 

“Yeah, you know, with the climb up the rope-” 

A loud shatter interrupts him, and the room goes dark. I look around, seeing the light bulb has exploded. I lean in a bit, wanting to see him better. 

“Woah”

“Did I do that?” 

“I don’t… I don’t think so” 

Josh fumbles with his jacket, hands going in every pocket before he finds what he’s looking for. A lighter. “Here, use this” he shouts, throwing it at Chris. He catches it with ease, lighting the small fire. The room lights up again, and everything gets more visible by the yellow flames. Oh, and his face, the way the light and shadows work together… 

“Woah, Chris, I just got an awesome idea” 

“Yeah?” 

“Totally” 

“Well, what is it?” 

“Okay. So, I’m pretty sure that I’ve got some deodorant in one of the bathrooms, you could use that with the lighter” I look up at him weirdly before asking. 

“How is a stick of deodorant gonna help?” 

“Same question!” Chris exclaims, pointing to me. 

“Spray-on, it’s a can” 

“Ohh, yeah, now I gotcha” 

“I still don't follow” I add, waiting for someone to explain. 

“Flamethrower!” 

“Just like we did with the little army dudes!” 

“Yup, the ones we melted” 

“You guys are madmen” I butt in, gaze going to and from them both as they talk. 

“Didn’t you ruin a couple of toys with fire?” Chris asks. 

“No?” 

“Did you even have a childhood?” Josh jokes, pushing my arm. 

I shake my head in response, letting them figure it out. If this was the way to get the door open, then let it be. 

“Anyway, lock!” 

“Yeah, flamethrower on the lock. On it!” Chris salutes, and Josh does the same back. 

“Godspeed pilgrim!” 

Chris turns around, and Josh and I jump off the powerbox, careful not to slip on the ice. I take his offered hand, my other one placed on the box as I carefully lower myself. He’s already on his way somewhere. 

“Hey, Josh…”

“Yeah?” 

“I just wanted to check on you, I know this year has been hard”

He puts his finger up, urging me to stop talking. 

“I truly appreciate that you all came back this year, I know it must feel weird. But you guys are some of my closest friends, and I don’t want to lose that” 

I nod, smiling a little his way. 

“Well, okay. Just know that we’re here here for you, anytime” 

He smiles, the atmosphere feeling lighter and lifted. 

“Thank you, you should have a grown-up talk with Chris too”

“What do you mean?” 

“You know what I mean” 

I cross my arms on my chest, unsure about how to approach the subject. 

“Josh, I want to, but it all feels a bit…”

“Icky, weird, disgusting?” 

“No, absolutely not. Maybe a bit disrespectful?” 

“To who?” 

“Your sisters” 

The air around us gets heavy again, and I beat myself up for not thinking before answering. He slowly nods his head, as if understanding something he didn’t before. 

“Okay, listen. They don’t mind” 

“It’s not that. Everything started last year?” 

“Something happened between you last year?” 

“Right when the prank happened, we were in the upstairs bathroom…”

“Shit” 

“Yeah”

“Fucking hell. And no one else knows?” 

“No, and as soon as we heard commotion downstairs, we ran to see what was happening” 

I try to explain, but everything sounds so vague and bad considering the circumstances. 

“Hey, I get it, bad start. I appreciate both you and Chris, for everything you did, also that night, but don’t let that stand in the way. If you need my blessing, you’ve got it. You both deserve each other, and last year didn’t doom you as it did others” 

I look up at him, trying to read his expression. But there’s something different there. He looks different, like another person. His eyes are empty and blind, the darkness clearly visible. Maybe this is not a good thing to talk about. 

“Thank you Josh, but I think we both need to be on the same wavelength about this, especially after not having contact for a whole year” 

He nods, and is about to turn around again when he puts his hand up, dramatically spinning around back, a finger pointed right towards me. I look at him surprised. 

“You know, I don’t think Chris will find that can on his own” 

“What? Yes he will, he’s a smart man” 

“I mean, academically, yes, but give that man a location and he might go an entire different way” 

I give him a sceptical stare, and he gives himself away as I catch a glimpse of his playful smirk. Was everyone on this mountain going to tease me? 

“None of you guys are funny, I left the others because I thought there was a chance I wouldn’t get teased here” 

“Oh, you’re no fun. You just need to shoot your shot” 

“Absolutely not!”

“God knows the only way Chris will do it, is if you put a gun to his head” 

“He might not even then” I add, the thought sinking in. If it really mattered, he would’ve done so already. Whatever these feelings are, they’ll pass. 

“Oh, I guess we’ll see. But you still need to go inside” 

A loud shriek is heard, something which definitely came from Chris. I look at Josh, and he just shrugs. Rolling my eyes, he helps me up on the power box, and I carefully make my way in. 

“Josh, it’s super creepy down here!” 

“Got your phone?” 

I reach into my pocket, grabbing my phone and turning on the flashlight. The cellar lights up, full of dusk and boxes. 

“Um, still creepy Josh!” 

There’s silence, too much. He doesn’t answer, and I try his name again, but to no avail. Shit. I would definitely struggle to climb back out, so the only option left is to find Chris or the entrance. It’s been a year, and I don’t remember everything. I walk further in, deciding to ignore every dark corner and room. The door to the hallway is open, and I quickly make my way, immediately feeling the familiarity with the dark wood and wall decorations. It’s like nothing’s changed. Except the atmosphere, and dust, and that sinking feeling that something bad will happen. I walk to the end of the hall, noticing the family portrait at the end. Beth and Hannah look so alive, the brush strokes bringing out their colour and vibrancy. I miss them, both of them. 

A loud noise bursts my bubble, making me look to my left to see the previously open door being slammed shut. My breath hitches, body tensing as I grab the doorknob. It’s locked. It probably has an automatic lock on the other side, and the wind made the door shut. There are most likely other windows open that made this happen. I breathe out, clutching my phone harder from being frightened. I just need to find Chris. That’s the only reason I'm here in the first place. 

I take a right, walking further into the building to see a door creeping open right in front of me. I wait for Chris to go through, but he doesn’t come. The door is left open, the creaking noise burrowed in my brain. This is fucked up, wasn’t it closed? I thread forward carefully, each step taken with great caution as I make my way. I look through the door, seeing the familiar sight of the lodge’s hallway and main room. Thank God. 

I walk to the door and look through the windows. Sam and Ashley are standing there, waiting for it to be opened. I knock, and they both jump at the sudden sound. 

“Just me, didn’t mean to scare you!” 

“Good, Chris already tried” Sam complains, trying to look back through the frost-covered glass. 

“Yeah, I can’t see him” 

I feel something behind me, something big and dark casting a shadow on the door. Soft yellow light approaching and a small creek right behind me. My body, which is already tense, gets stiffer, and I try the door handle to no avail. 

Two large arms go around me. One on my waist and one around my neck. I scream before my mouth is covered with a massive hand, pressing down on my lips. 

“Shit, it’s just me, just jokes” Chris smiles, letting go of me. My heart is beating out of my chest, pulse skyrocketing and breathing uneven. 

“That’s one too many for today” I state, and he gives a small laugh. 

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself” 

He comes closer, arms closing around me in a gentle manner. The touch is soft, and too short as he leans away, lifting my face to look up at him. I’m calm now, the adrenaline rush lowering and my senses coming back. 

“I swear to God, if you scare me one more time during this trip-”

“You’re such a scaredy-cat” 

“That’s the point!” 

I hear snickers outside as we keep bickering, and roll my eyes. Didn’t these people have other things to do than listen to us? I look down, seeing the spray in one of his hands. Oh, that’s right, they don’t. 

“Let’s get this thing open” I wave to the lock, and he gives a smile, hand pushing me out of the way. He puts the lighter in front of the spray, and I take another step back, just for safety measures. He sprays, the flames being big and ashy as they go against the metal lock. I look over, making sure that he stays within the secluded area, and doesn't set the wood on fire. Luckily, he seems to have full control. 

Finally, it seems enough, and before I can stop him, he’s quick to grab hold of the handle and open the door. The others thank him, while I notice the shaking and clutching of his left hand. 

“Thank you, thank you” he bows. “I’ll be here all week” 

A loud noise and fast-traveling animal runs out beside us, and I hold my breath, standing still as it passes. Chris yelps, jumping back while the other’s make way for it, letting it run back into the forest. 

“Crap, that thing freaked me out” Chris breathes out, his hand on my arm. Poor thing. 

“What was that?” Ashley asks, still laughing a bit. 

“It was like, a bear or a tiger or… something” 

“Awe, it was just a cute little baby wolverine” Sam taunts, walking past him and clapping his shoulder. The response makes me giggle, and he pulls his hand back, having both of them in the air and waiting for some consolation. 

“Baby?” 

“Don’t worry buddy, you’re gonna be a big boy soon” Josh adds, walking past him with Ashley and Matt. I give him a nudge, and we follow them into the main room of the lodge. 

“Home sweet home” Josh exclaims, hands outreached to the dark space. 

“Sweet is not the word I’d use” Matt whispers, and I agree. It’s dark, weird and feels too eerie for me. It’s like we’re in a horror game. Ashley rubs her arms, trying to stay warm. 

“Oh my gosh, it’s so good to be inside, even though it’s still freezing” 

“I’ll get a fire going” Josh walks over to the fireplace, placing down some logs and setting up. 

“This place barely looks any different” Matt comes up beside me, looking over all the furniture. 

“My thoughts exactly” I tell him, meeting his eyes. There’s some kind of worry in them. I bet he still feels bad. No wonder, no one should really feel good being up here. Not after what happened. 

“What’s up, party people!” 

“Hey!” 

Mike and Jessica make their entrance, both psyched to get the action going. Most of us greet them back, but I notice that Matt doesn’t. He looks at Mike with contempt, something dark brewing. That’s what we all need now, some drama. I walk over to Ashley, sitting beside her on the sofa. Don’t want to be in the fire-zone when the shooting starts. 

“Make yourself at home, bro” Josh tells Mike, still fumbling with the fire. 

“Will do” 

“Yeah, come on in” 

Shit, now it starts. I give Ashley a look, and she leans in to whisper something to me. I listen while the drama unfolds in front of me. 

“I was by one of the telescopes earlier, and saw Mike and Emily exchange quite an ‘intimate’ hug. Matt wanted to see, and I was unsure about what to do, but he just looked anyway. I think it really hit a nerve” 

“No wonder” I whisper back. “Wouldn’t you be pissed if you saw your partner do that with an ex. The ex right before you. Who, you have A LOT of history with?” 

“Well, yeah, of course” 

Things seemed to have cooled off a bit between the two, Mike with both of his hands up in surrender and Matt taking a step back. Mike walks over to Jess, arm going to the back of the sofa, behind her. She nuzzles into him, and I can already sense Emily’s anger before she wanders into the lodge scoffing. This was going to be a long retreat. 

“Oh my god, that is so gross. Are you trying to swallow his face whole?” she walks towards them slowly, stopping a couple of meters away, arms crossed over her chest. Not more drama. Matt takes a step towards her, hand reaching a little out for her. 

“Em…” 

I can imagine how he feels, seeing his girlfriend and ex like that, and then seeing his girlfriend get jealous. Still, he isn’t aggravated anymore, just trying to calm her with small steps. She doesn’t budge, but keeps looking at the couple with disgust.

“Seriously, can she be any more obvious?” 

Jess snuggles further into Mike, taunting her and showing him off. I can already see that Mike’s getting uncomfortable, knowing something is about to blow up. Emily leans a bit down, as if talking to a toddler, staring Jess down. 

“No one wants in on your territory, honey” 

“Excuse me, did you say something?” 

Jess now rises, walking up to her. The tension in the room strengthens, and I look over to the others, but everyone is fixated on the next move, sucking in the drama like sweet nectar. I sigh, feeling Ashley’s hand on mine, uncomfortably shifting as she watches. This’ll go nowhere, the bickering and bitching. If someone doesn’t stop them, they’ll keep going, maybe even get physical. 

“Hey, watch it!” 

“Oh, you’re the only one who can put him down? No one else gets to play with your toys?”

I lean over to Ashley, whose eyes are still glued to the fight. 

“Is none going to stop them?” 

“I wouldn’t dare to put myself in that position” 

Josh stands up, shaking the ash off his fingers. 

“Stop it! This is not why we came up here, this is not helping. It’s not what I wanted” 

Sam stands up as well, taking a few steps and adding to the statement. 

“If we can’t get along for ten minutes, maybe we just need a little break?” 

Josh looks over at her, an appreciative smile on his lips, then turning back to the others. 

“Yes! Mike, why don’t you check out the guest cabin, the one I told you about?” 

Mike stands up, hand outstretched for Jess. 

“Yeah, want to go do that?” 

“Any place without that whore” 

“It’s right up the trail” Josh adds as they walk out. Emily finally turns around, noticing our big eyes and awkward faces. Matt imitates an explosion, causing her to roll her eyes. I take a breath, looking over at Chris. His lips are thinned, and he also lets out some air. Jeez, that was a lot for most of us. Hopefully, things get better tomorrow. Matt walks over to Josh, noticing the lacking fire. 

“So, should we get this fire going?” 

“Yeah, working on it” 

“Where’s my bag?” Emily asks, looking over at Matt. 

“Huh?” 

“My bag… The little one with the pink pattern, the one I got on Rodeo” 

Her boyfriend gives her a dumbfounded expression, shrugging his shoulders. 

“Matt, are you listening? Matt, I need my bag!”

“Oh my god Em, maybe you just forgot it!”

“Do you seriously think I’d just forget my bag?” 

“Well, I-”

“Do you?” 

“Guess not” 

“You must’ve left it down by the cable car station” 

“Ugh”

“Come on, hun. We’ll be back soon” 

Matt sighs, walking over to her by the door. 

“Then we can get warm?” 

“We can get very warm” 

He caves, arm outstretched and letting her lead him out. I lean back on the couch, energy drenched. God, why did I come? Ashley leans back, lips against my ear as she whispers. 

“See how easy it is for them to say what they want to do to each other instead of OBVIOUSLY thinking loudly?” 

I hit her, and she laughs. All the others look over curiously, but I just shake my head to them. 

“Okay, I’m gonna go take a bath” Sam exclaims, patting Josh’s shoulder and walking up the stairs. 

“Need help?” Ashley asks, already making her way beside her. 

“N-” she hits her, looking over at us before agreeing. I roll my eyes as they both walk upstairs. 

“What’s that all about?” Chris asks, and I tell him nothing. I can see Josh trying to hide his smile, still unable to get the fire going. 

“Shit, forgot to give Mike and Jess the keys” He stands up, and I do the same. 

“I’ll sprint over with them” 

He walks backwards, looking at both of us while throwing the keys up and down, catching them in his hands every time. 

“No, no. You guys are guests, get comfy, have sex, whatever” 

“Man” Chris interjects, but he turns around and laughs. 

“It’s what everyone else is doing, just follow the herd” 

He disappears around the corner, and I sit back down. They finally made things even more awkward between us. The silence is deafening, only broken by a couple of giggles from upstairs. 

“I guess we should talk” Chris suddenly says, eyes still on the ground, body leaning forward on his knees. The cold is almost as bad as the sinking feeling in my stomach, but I still nod in reply. 

“Let's get a fire going first, it’s icy in here” 

“Coming right up” he says with his comedic voice, the tone lightening the mood. We both walk over to the fireplace, setting up the last logs and lighting some matches. I watch his fingers as he does. The fingers tensing a little as he swipes the match to create fire. He  leans into the fireplace, and manages to light right on the bark, setting the logs ablaze. I hum at the light, the air around us starting to get a little bit foggy and warmer. 

I look up at him, noticing how close his face is. I carefully inch closer, everything in the background blurry as I look into his eyes. They’re wanting, as if needing something, or someone. His mouth is slightly open, and I bite my lip a little in anticipation. Both of our breaths are heavy and uneven, and I can feel it on my chin as he gets closer. 

“I gave you five minutes!” Josh exclaims, and we both jump back. We look up, and Josh is standing between us, the girls on the top of the stairs watching intently. I stand up, making my way back to the couch. Chris does the same, pushing a smiling Josh out of the way. 

“We were building the fire you so miserably failed at” 

“Damn, harsh man” 

“Sam, want to help me beat up Chris?” Josh shouts. 

“I was just getting into the bath!” Sam responds, shouting down from upstairs. He gets a playful smirk on his lips, hand going to his mouth to carry his words further. 

“And, do you need any help with that?!” 

“Hardy har” 

Chris and I look at each other, before looking at the flirt. He has a slight blush on his face, almost invisible. 

“Well, if it isn’t the little Sammy-lover” Chris smiles, leaning cockily back on the couch. 

“At least he wishes to be”

“I hate both of you” 

“Maybe he’s the one who needs to be left alone for five minutes?” 

“Shut up” 

He laughs a little, and I smile at the thought of him finally opening up a bit. This was healthy for him, feeling like this. I’m still unsure about the whole lodge-ordeal, but so far, he’s good. 

“You know, we have a spirit board here somewhere” He says, side-eyeing us with a sly smirk. 

“A what?” 

“Wow, you have a spirit board?” Chris asks, leaning forward interested. 

“Yeah, yeah, they’re fun right?” 

“Absolutely not” I say, shaking my head. After everything that has happened here, I’m not checking for ghosts and demons, that’s the last thing we should be doing. 

“Should we have a seance?” 

“No”

“Yes” 

“They’re a joke, they don’t do shit” I try, but my argument fails. 

“I know, but it's still interesting” Chris says. 

I look over at him, and he’s looking at me pleadingly. Puppy eyes and a pouty mouth. I try to resist, but my defences fall, and I sigh. They both take it as defeat and cheer. 

“But, only if I get Ashley with me” 

“She’ll be easy to convince” 

“Josh! No hot water, kind of a major oversight don’t you think?” Sam says, coming down the stairs. Ashley walks behind her, coming down to take her place beside me. 

“Yeah, yeah, just gotta fire up the boiler, it’s in the basement” 

He turns to us, already beginning to leave with Sam. 

“You guys see if you can find the spirit board” 

“A spirit board?” Ashley asks, and I just sigh. “They forced me to” 

“Can’t say no to this handsome face” Chris smiles, getting up to look for the board” 

“Come on, let’s go find it, it’ll be like a scavenger hunt” and she drags me up by the arms as I whine. “Fine” 

We look for a while. At one point, we lose Chris. He walked into another room, not to be seen again. I try closets and shelves, but cannot find anything. 

“Think it’s time to regroup?” 

“Yeah”

We walk back to the main room, voices immediately heard. 

“Holy crab, you were scared, admit it”

“I was not!”

“Come on, you totally pissed yourself!”

“Josh!” 

Up the stairs comes the three guys, Chris wearing a monk-costume. I look him up and down while Ashley’s laughing so hard she almost can’t stand. She has to turn away to calm herself. I smile, walking towards him as he joins his hands in prayer. 

“What the hell are you wearing?” 

“I’ve found my true calling?” he says, hands making a cross over me. 

“You know monks can’t own stuff, or have relationships, or sex?” 

He thinks for a bit, looking me up and down with a small smirk. Is he… cocky?

“I guess I need to change profession then” 

“Omg, will you take a vow of silence?” Ashley laughs, coming up beside me. He starts talking without sound. And I can’t help the small snicker that escapes my lips. 

“Okay, okay, we get it” 

He draws forward the spirit board, and I whine again. Why did we have to do this? 

“Here’s our one-way ticket to the spirit realm” 

Sam is already walking up the stairs, not wanting to take part in the activities. I almost want to join her. A hot bath clearly beats seeking demons. But I don’t, instead, I take off my coat and hang it on a chair before walking over to the others. 

“Bold move of you with the sex-comment” Ashley whispers, and I give her a small smile and I rest my head against her shoulder. 

“Well, you all have told me to be a bit more forward” 

“That’s my girl”

Taglist: @porcelainbluedove @b3rryb3t

[melishade]

Attack on Prime The Future Anthology: Snowball Fight (Rematch)

StrongArm and Sideswipe I

Strongarm and Sideswipe II

Thanksgiving

Winter Anthology:

Snowball Fight I

Snowball Fight II

The Survey Corps demand a rematch with Optimus.

Levi sneezed as the cold winds blew once more on Paradis. The fields were blanketed in white once more, the trees no longer had their leaves, and-!

"Bring it on!" Sasha screamed before chucking a snowball directly at Miko head. The agent rolled to the side before grabbing some snow and hiding behind a tree. She compacted it into a snowball and was prepared to throw it, but Sasha threw another one, forcing Miko to hide behind the tree more. Sasha was about to throw another one, but she felt the hairs on her back stand up before dodging a snowball that Jack had thrown out of the corner of her eye. She looked down behind her snow wall to see Armin on the ground, his chest covered in snow.

"You're weak, Armin!" Sasha pointed before throwing her snowball at Jack. Miko threw a snowball at Sasha once more, but Mikasa swatted the snowball away with a stick before grabbing a snowball and running after Miko.

Meanwhile, Gabi, Falco, and Colt were laughing with delight as the trio rolled in the snow, getting the frozen water all over their winter coats. It was their first time actually experiencing the element, and they wanted to enjoy it to the fullest. Rafael, Jean, and Pieck were finishing up the last of their decorations on the snowman they built together.

"Finally got building a snowman off my bucket list," Rafael grinned as he put a top hat on the snow scuplture.

"Can't you go anywhere in the world to make one?" Pieck asked.

"My first time seeing snow was when I got involved with the Autobots," Rafael explained, "If that didn't happen, then I would have been living in the desert until I went to college. And who knows if I went to a place with snow."

"The snow is making my leg colder though, and I don't like it," Jean grumbled.

Levi felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see Erwin offering him a cup of tea. The captain took it and took small sips, noticing the difference in taste. "What kind of tea is this?"

"Apple tea!" Hanji grinned, popping up behind Erwin.

"You can make tea from apples?" Levi questioned in confusion.

"Apparently you use apple peels!" Hanji explained.

"Hm." Levi took another sip, "How's the arm treating you?"

"I'm thinking about taking it off," Erwin grumbled. "Every time it touches my skin, it feels like ice."

"Maybe there is a way to make the arm reattach, like Jean's leg," Hanji suggested.

"The arm is connected to my nervous system," Erwin reminded.

"Doesn't mean that it should stop us," Hanji proclaimed.

A few moments later, the veteran trio heard the familiar sound of a spacebridge and turned their attention to see Optimus driving through it.

"Hello, Boss Bot!" Hanji waved, "How was the geopolitics?"

"I do not wish to discuss it," Optimus grumbled as he activated his holoform.

"If the world leaders are being a pain in the ass, just let Buckethead handle it," Levi suggested, "The one thing he's good at is scaring people."

"I have been avoiding the world leaders for quite some time," Optimus admitted, "Megatron informed me that it was a problem and I had to address it."

"At least it's over for today," Erwin reassured.

Falco stopped rolling in the snow when he noticed Optimus standing next to Erwin. "Hello, Mr. Optimus Prime!"

Levi nearly choked on his tea while Hanji snickered.

"Optimus will do just fine!" The Prime reassured.

Sasha noticed the Prime, wondering why he was here for a brief moment, before devious and infuriating thought crossed her mind. "YOU OWE US A REMATCH!"

Everyone stared in confusion while Sasha grunted when Jack landed a hit directly to the back of her head.

"Um...rematch?" Pieck questioned.

Levi blinked in realization before slouching in his wheelchair. "Oh god no."

"Oh god yes!" Hanji exclaimed with delight.

"Wait, what's going on?" Erwin asked.

"YOU OWE US A SNOWBALL FIGHT OPTIMUS!" Sasha pointed at the Prime.

"Sasha, no-!"

"Sasha, YES!" Miko yelled in agreement, cutting Armin off.

"I will have to abstain," Optimus proclaimed.

"No, you are not abstaining!" Sasha stomped over to him, "You're fighting all of us because Armin cheap shotted you and I refuse to accept it!"

Erwin snapped his head to Hanji and Levi. "What happened?"

"The 104th challenged Optimus to a snowball fight a few years ago. He only participated because I managed to phrase it as a training exercise which got him to participate. And that resulted in everyone getting their asses handed to them. But Armin somehow managed to sneak up on him and win the match," Hanji summarized.

Erwin looked at them like they were insane. "Optimus Prime lost a snowball fight?"

"Yes," Levi answered.

"Sasha, I must insist that-!"

"No! All of us!" Sasha gestured to her friends, "Versus you! Same rules as last time! We have to land one hit on you with the snowball!"

"Pass." Jean raised his hands in surrender before walking away.

"Coward!" Sasha yelled at him.

"I just got used to walking again!" Jean reminded before pointing to his prosthetic, "And this leg is cold!"

"Then you'll be support!" Sasha declared.

"Sasha you were dangling from a tree last time we did this!" Jean reminded.

"Maybe we shouldn't do this," Jack told Miko and Rafael.

"Oh, we're doing this!" Miko grinned.

"I'm with Jean on this one," Pieck agreed, gesturing to her cane, "I'll never have the same mobility that I used to."

"Fine!" Sasha pointed to Armin. "You!" Then Mikasa. "You!" Then Jack. "You!" Then Miko. "You!"

"YES!" Miko cheered.

"You three!" Sasha pointed to the Warrior Cadets.

"Uh...." Colt wasn't sure if he should say no.

"And you!" Sasha finally pointed to Rafael. "Where's Annie?!" Sasha demanded.

"I think she's with her dad," Gabi recalled.

"Besides, I don't think she wants to fight Optimus," Hanji reminded.

"Then you two!" Sasha pointed to Hanji and Erwin.

"No," They both said in unison.

"Why?!" Sasha demanded.

"Girl, I know my limits," Hanji reminded in annoyance.

"I am practicing self-preservation." Erwin sipped more of his tea.

"I still have not agreed to this," Optimus declared.

Hanji raised a finger and was about to speak, but Optimus shot them a warning look, causing them to recoil a little.

"C'mon, Optimus!" Sasha begged, "Don't you want revenge on Armin for getting the jump on you?!"

"Why are you dragging me into this?!" Armin demanded.

"I am not going to participate," Optimus declared.

"You know," Rafael began, "You did break your promise in bringing me that snowball."

Miko gasped in mocking disbelief. "Optimus Prime broke a promise?!"

"What is happening?" Pieck was at a loss for words, "Are they blackmailing Optimus?"

"Oh, yeah, he's a softie. He's gonna fold," Hanji declared.

"You should make up for that promise~," Rafael suggested.

"Jack." Optimus turned to the eldest.

"Well you did break a promise," Jack retorted.

"There was a scraplet infestation," Optimus shot back.

"That's not an excuse, Chief!" Miko warned, "Snowball fight! Snowball fight!"

"Snowball fight! Snowball fight!" Sasha chanted along with her.

Jack looked at Rafael and the two shrugged before joining in. "Snowball fight! Snowball fight!"

Optimus could feel his eyes twitching at the chanting, knowing for a fact that it wasn't going to relent. "I will only do one-!"

"YES!" At least half of them cheered.

"Yeah, I'm gonna sit this out," Jean proclaimed as he started to walk away.

"Nope!" Sasha grabbed the hem of Jean's coat and dragged him back.

"What?! Hey, what the hell?!" Jean squawked.

"Um, we've never really been in a snowball fight," Colt spoke up.

"Oh, you are going to love it," Miko reassured with a grin.

"Or get hurt," Mikasa muttered under her breath. She remembered the last time she went up against Optimus in a snowball fight.

Pieck walked up to the veteran trio. "Should I be worried about Gabi, Falco, and Colt?"

"Hmmmm," Hanji hummed in thought.

"The fact that you're thinking about it is concerning me," Pieck stated.

"Prime will go easy on them," Levi reassured.

Moments later, the humans stood across from Optimus, each side having their snowballs and defenses ready. But not one person moved. The other side was waiting for the other to make their move. Pieck couldn't help but feel the tension in the air, and shivered at the cold wind.

"I don't think it seems fair that Optimus is all by himself," Falco confessed, causing everyone to be distracted for a brief moment. But it was enough for Optimus to make the first move. He threw two snowballs, one that hit Colt in the side of his head, and the other hitting Armin square in the chest. Both ended up hitting the snow hard.

"I knew you had it out for Armin!" Sasha grinned. Everyone yelped and ducked as Optimus started pelting them with snowballs.

"I'm just gonna crawl away," Armin groaned before he started shimming his way across the snow, grabbing Colt in the process.

Miko couldn't help but start cackling. "This is gonna be so much fun!"

"You go left and I go right!" Jack ordered Miko as he grabbed some snowballs, "Raf, help Gabi and Falco make more!"

"Don't need to tell me twice!" Gabi frantically started making more snowballs.

"I'll throw from here! I'm not moving!" Jean declared.

"We'll cover you!" Sasha and Mikasa stated. Jack nodded before he and Miko bolted from the snow wall. Mikasa stayed close to Jack while Sasha followed behind Miko.

Optimus' eyes darted at the two teams that split off and quickly tried to target them. The two teams managed to find some cover behind some trees before throwing their snowballs. Optimus quickly ducked before hiding behind his own snow wall. He was getting overwhelmed. He could try running into the forest like last time, but he was certain that they would be prepared for that. He needed to take out the weakest first, or at least take out the support.

He needed to get to where Jean, Rafael, Gabi, and Falco were. He needed to get to their stock pile.

Sasha was ready to throw another snowball, but flinched when her vision became blurry. When it regained focus, she saw the energy coming off of everyone once more. "Damn it, not again."

"You okay?" Miko asked her.

"I'm fine!" Sasha snapped at her before turning her attention to where Optimus was hiding. She gasped when she saw glowing energy coming from behind the wall. It was blue and bright and fluid, almost divine. Sasha grew tense when that energy grew more rigid and guarded. Almost as if-!

Sasha gasped when Optimus jumped over the snow wall and bolted straight for the four they left behind their makeshift fort.

"He's heading for the others!" Sasha shouted.

Mikasa didn't know what overcame her, but she bolted, and fast, rushing over to Optimus faster than anyone could think. Mikasa slid down low and threw a snowball directly for Optimus' face, but the Prime bent backwards to dodge it. The snowball hit a tree, causing it the shake and make the snow hanging on the branches crash to the ground.

Mikasa tried to make another snowball, but Optimus was faster. He dug his hand into the snow and flung it directly at Mikasa. She quickly rolled out of the way before the snow hit her, but broke focus when she saw Optimus getting ready to throw a snowball. Mikasa was ready to dodge, but was surprised when Optimus threw the snowball somewhere else. She followed the trajectory and winced when the snowball hit Jean directly in the face.

"Ooo," Miko winced as Jean hit the ground.

"Jean, you're weak!" Sasha shouted.

Jean raised a finger over the fort. "I told you I didn't want to participate!"

"Revenge!" Gabi shouted before throwing a snowball at Optimus, reigniting the fight. Mikasa yelped when Optimus grabbed her by the coat and used her to block a few of the snowballs. Mikasa grunted before kicking Optimus in the chest, causing him to drop her. Mikasa threw punches at Optimus, but Optimus was quick to block them.

"Mikasa! Snowball fight! Not fist fight!" Jack threw a curve ball right for Optimus' back, but the Prime ducked at the last minute and the ball hit Mikasa in the face.

"Sorry!" Jack apologized.

Optimus was prepared to throw a snowball at Jack, but stopped when he heard the snow crunch behind him. The Prime grunted when Miko jumped on his back and pulled at his hair, nearly causing him to lose his balance.

"Throw it! Throw it!" Miko shouted.

Mikasa quickly ran out of the line of fire as everyone else threw their snowballs. But in a split second, Optimus fell backwards. Miko yelled as she let go of his hair and crashed into the ground. The Prime had managed to dodge all the snowballs thrown his way before flipping backwards over Miko. He grabbed some snow and compacted it quickly before throwing it in Miko's face.

Erwin and Pieck could only watch the fight in disbelief while Hanji and Levi watched with apathy. Meanwhile, Armin, Colt, and Jean finally made it to the sidelines, but elected to remain on the floor out of pain and fear.

"This isn't a snowball fight. This is a full-blown fight," Erwin declared.

"Every time I see Optimus' fighting capabilities, it makes me grateful to be alive yet fearful at the same time of Optimus' abilities," Pieck gulped.

"You should have seen it when Optimus was fighting Megatron," Hanji added, "Those two were monsters."

Armin and Jean groaned in agreement.

"Miko, move!" Miko yelped when Sasha rushed forward and jumped before throwing a snowball at Optimus. Miko rolled out the way while Optimus dodged Sasha's throw. Optimus noticed Jack and Mikasa rushing forward to throw their snowballs, but Optimus ducked down and spun, using his leg to trip all three of them. Mikasa was the first to get up at lightning speed, sliding between Optimus' legs and grabbing the holoform jacket. She pulled it back to pull him down, but gasped when the jacket disappeared into sparks, leaving only the holoform shirt.

"What the-!"

"Cheater!" Sasha screamed at him. Sasha grunted when Optimus grabbed her by the face and threw her towards their snow fort. Rafael pulled Falco and Gabi down as Sasha crashed into the snow, ruining the snowballs they had set up. Before Sasha could get an intact snowball to throw, she grunted when Optimus threw one directly at her face. The huntress' head fell back against the snow in defeat.

"This is insane!" Falco cried.

"Nah, I gotta agree with Miko: this is the most fun that I've had in ages!" Rafael grinned.

"Any ideas would be great right now!" Gabi screamed.

Rafael thought it over before looking up at the trees. "Yeah, you two are bait!"

"What?!" Falco and Gabi screamed as Rafael ran to the trees.

"Sasha are you okay?!" Jack called out, earning a loud groan in response. Jack yelped when Optimus threw a snowball at his head, but the agent jumped to the side in response. Optimus dug his hand into the snow to throw at Jack, but Mikasa jumped on his back and wrapped her arms around his neck. Optimus grunted as Mikasa yanked him back, giving Jack an opening. Jack quickly grabbed some snow to compact into a ball and was prepared to throw it, but Optimus grabbed Mikasa by her coat and threw her at Jack. Both ended up hitting the snow hard, unable to get up in time as Optimus threw snow at the both of them.

Optimus then turned his head to the damaged snow wall, his eyes falling to Gabi and Falco. He ran over to them, causing them to scramble back into a tree and hold each other for dear life. Optimus jumped over Sasha's unmoving body, grabbing two intact snowballs before walking over to them. Optimus was about to throw it at them and call the game over, but...Falco's eyes darted upward. Why would they-! Wait, where's Rafael?!

Optimus heard something above him and grunted in surprise when a pile of snow fell atop all three of them. He looked up to see Rafael grinning down at him from the tree branch, holding a snowball in his hand. He stretched his arm out and dropped the snowball atop of the Prime's head.

"We won!" Rafael called out.

"Nice!" Miko cheered while Jack and Mikasa groaned in unison.

Erwin couldn't help but feel his eye twitch. "He lost, again?"

"At least this time, it wasn't a lucky shot," Levi commented as Rafael climbed down the tree.

"Sorry guys," Rafael apologized as he dusted the snow off of Falco and Gabi.

"It's okay, Mr. Esquivel," Falco said.

Rafael winced. "Don't call me that. Makes me feel old."

Optimus dusted the snow off of his own body before going over to assist the others to their feet. He offered Mikasa his hand, and the Ackerman grunted and took it. As Optimus pulled her to her feet, Optimus noticed the shine in her eyes had faded to the blue that had now replaced her gray eyes. Optimus' mouth formed a thin line before he went to assist Jack to his feet.

"That was so much fun!" Miko tackled Optimus into a hug from behind, "We should totally do it again!"

"NO!" Falco, Gabi, Colt, and Jean shouted.

"I believe that I am done with snow activities for the day," Optimus declared.

"You sure?" Hanji sauntered their way over to Optimus, "You don't want to help with building a huge snowman or something?"

"Oh please!" Miko begged.

"That would actually be a lost safer," Pieck agreed.

"And we didn't get to do that today! We want to do all the snow stuff!" Gabi declared.

"I-!...suppose that would suffice," Optimus relented.

"Giant snowman!" Miko exclaimed with delight.

==

Later

Megatron had arrived at the island and planted his pedes in the snow. He couldn't help but shiver a little at the sensation of the cold weather but chose to ignore it. He was only coming here because he wanted to check on Optimus after the Prime had left that meeting with the world leaders. He looked so tired and annoyed, but he asked to be left alone for a now. However, he figured enough time had passed for Optimus to cool down.

He arrived at the coordinates he remembered Optimus used and was stunned to see a comically large snowman, about half the size of the Prime. He saw the Prime compacting the snow to make it sturdy while the rest of the humans were talking about decorations to put on the massive snow pile. However, Optimus didn't seem to mind at all. He seemed content with helping the humans out with this tedious task.

At least this helped ease the pain in his spark.

[kasagia]

❄️️Warm my heart pt. 1❄️️

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/ The Darkling x fem! heartrender! reader Summary: December. Everyone in the Little and Grand Palaces is excited about the upcoming holidays. Only the Black General seems rather... depressed. Like every year when these holidays are coming closer. Maybe this year, since you've been promoted to his second-in-command, you can make the general's holidays a little more enjoyable? And you're not doing it because you're in love with him and you want to see him finally careless happy... not even a little bit. Nonsense from me: A spontaneous Christmas mini-series. We'll see how it develops... I hope you will like it 🩵🖤 P.S. I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I don't know if there's any equivalent to our Christmas… let's just say there is and I'll try to find out to be sure😅 Word Count: 3k Taglist: @aoi-targaryen ~•♤♤♤•~ Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ ~•♤♤♤•~ Part 2 ~•♤♤♤•~

"Oh saints, I'm freezing here." Fedyor complains as he walks next to you through the snowdrifts.

"Don't be such a grump." you say, adjusting your black fur coat that protects your neck from the cold wind. You look at the sky. The clouds were swirling above you, and the snow was still falling. In moments like these, you kind of wish you were Inferni.

"Grumpy? We had been walking around, searching for this stag, the whole day. I start to doubt if that tracker can find it."

"That tracker had seen it." Mal's voice is coming behind you. You turn to see him helping Alina walk through the snow. "It had to go somewhere to await the snowstorm."

"We should do the same." you tremble as you hear General's right behind you. You feel his warm body and beating heart before he stands next to you. "It's getting worse with each hour. We should go back to camp." he says, looking at Ivan.

"Yes, sir." Ivan who came with him nods to him and looks at the rest.

All of you are following him. You see Zoya and the general talking to him about something in the front. Mal and Alina whisper something quietly to each other. The tracker looks distrustfully at the three Grishas in front of him. You decide to stay with Fedyor a little after them.

"Lovers' quarrel?" you ask him as you see him trying to stay as far away from Ivan as he can. He also has not looked at him even once since you all got together after hours of searching Morozova's stag.

"You can say that. I want to go on holiday with my family and take him with me. He refused... well, it's putting it mildly."

"He needs time. I'm sure he will gladly come with you to meet your cousins and siblings." you defend him.

You know very well that Ivan wasn't necessarily eager to leave the Little Palace. He rarely saw his family. Like you, he didn't have many... people in his family who accepted him as Grisha. Fedyor was lucky to have someone to write letters to and visit during the holidays. Ivan was also more conservative; he did not engage in closer relationships with people, except for his fiancé.

Just like someone else you know...—you think, staring at the back of the general's head.

Snowflakes fall on his black kefta, making it even harder for you to take your eyes off him. You stopped counting the number of times you just wanted to go up to him, run your hand through his hair, hug him while simultaneously hiding in his black kefta, or kiss those temptingly soft lips that gave orders to thousands of soldiers.

The beating of his heart has become wonderful music for you to work with since you somehow became his second-in-command and started to spend more time with him in the war room.

It also worsened your crush on him… but it was a sacrifice you could bear for the sake of Ravek and Grishas.

"I hope so. I haven't seen them for a year. I wanted to finally introduce Ivan to them. Especially after our engagement." he sighs sadly, staring blankly at the footprints in front of you. You look at him sympathetically. As you notice snowflakes gathering on his shoulder, you think of an idea to make him laugh and maybe feel a little better.

You stand for a moment and bend down to your shoe, pretending to try to tie it. Fedyor stops and waits for you, his eyes patrolling the area and the forest surrounding you. You weren't that far from the capital, but some of Drüskelle's unit could always show up. You take advantage of his moment of inattention, form a snowball, and throw it at him.

You laugh quietly as the snowball hits his back. Fedyor gives you a surprised look before smirking and accepting the challenge. You silently throw snowballs at each other from behind, trying to stay silent enough so that no one notices what you two are doing.

At one point, you dodge a snowball thrown by Fedyor, causing it to hit Alina. The Sun Summoner turns towards you and lets out a small huff of laughter as he sees the two of you covered in snow. He nudges Mal with his elbow, and soon the four of you are left far behind the others, throwing snowballs at each other.

You laugh as you form teams against each other. You and Fedyor do quite well against them... at least until, instead of throwing a snowball at Mal's face, you manage to hit General Kirigan, who seems to have noticed your absence and come back to find you.

You all freeze, watching the snow fall from his face onto the kefta. Beside him, Zoya tries her best not to burst out laughing. Ivan, on the other hand, gives the four of you an irritated, disbelieving look.

"Ten minutes… we can't let you out of our sight for ten minutes," Kirigan says, wiping his face with a handkerchief and brushing away the remaining snow from his face.

"Our apologies, General." Fedyor says, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his face straight.

"Whose genius idea was it?" he asks, hiding his handkerchief and brushing off the excess snow from his black coat. To no avail, judging by the snow still falling on you. But that didn't change the fact that he was as intimidating as he was in any setting.

You see Alina take a breath to take the blame, but you cut her off before she could. "My, sir. I wanted to lighten the mood. I apologise; it won't happen again. We won't delay our return."

Your remorseful look and tone of voice make him relax. His stern gaze softens, and you can practically hear Fedyor teasing you about it.

"Just don't get left behind." he says and turns on his heel, leading you all again back to the camp.

Zoya stares at you, surprised at how smoothly you managed to pull off something like insulting the general of the Second Army by throwing a snowball at his face. However, she quickly comes back to her senses and tries to catch up with the general to talk to him about something. Ivan, on the other hand, just shakes his head and wordlessly follows the Black General like his shadow.

"Seriously? If it were me, he'd tear me apart just by looking at me," Mal grumbles to himself.

"Don't worry so much. He would do it to anyone. He has a soft spot only for Y/N. Well, and maybe Alina, since she is one-of-a-kind." Fedyor says quietly and pats him on the back. Alina snickers and takes Mal's arm as they both follow the trail of the three Grishas. You roll your eyes at your dear friend's words.

"Stop it. It's ridiculous. Don't even insinuate something like that. With Zoya and Alina in the picture, I mean nothing more to him than a soldier, his second-in-command. At best, a friend."

"Sure. The beating of his heart every time you look at him is an obvious clue that this is the case. Besides, you've seen yourslef. You are the only one who can hit him with a snowball and stay safe and sound. He didn't even raise his voice at you. The two of you are so damn obvious and so damn stubborn that even if you ended up in bed together, you both would consider it an accident."

"Oh, shut up." he laughs, hitting me on the arm with his.

"What? Why do you think he made you stop your training as a healer and decide for you to be a heartrender instead of making you a main healer? You would have stuck in an infirmary far away from him. That way, he sees you often, plus you have black embroidery on your kefta." he says and winks suggestively. You huff in amusement, shaking your head.

"You are ridiculous. We work together. That's all. There's nothing more between us. At best, it's camaraderie. Besides, he can have anyone."

"But he wants you. Do you think he gives flowers to everyone on Women's Day? Or does he buy birthday gifts? Does he even remember about someone's birthday?" you blush, you feel your cheeks turn the bloody color of your kefta and it's not because of the cold.

"I remember him wishing Ivan a happy birthday." you mutter under your breath.

"Because he was standing next to us when I gave this idiot a gift." he says, obviously still angry at his fiancé.

"Give it up. Him and I—it's not going to happen. He's a womanizer. Zoya is not his first mistress. And I am definitely not his type or league."

"Well, now that you've brought it up... little birdie told me that he cut off all non-Army relations with her. And guess when? When you became his second-in-command. And guess who he pushes away, despite the fact that she's desperately trying to get back into his bed?"

"It does not matter. He probably has his eyes on Alina and wants to make a good impression."

Fedyor groans in annoyance at your response. Before you know it, you're back at camp, with no trace of the rest of your companions. The man next to you sighs in frustration and runs a hand through his hair.

"If you keep fighting it for so long and denying it, which makes no sense by the way, then yes. He'll find someone else. Take the opportunity before you regret it. Christmas is coming! Maybe some miracle will happen that will make you both see that you have to end together, because only saints can make the two of you see things together, you stubborn donkeys." he says and leaves you alone, going saints know where.

You sigh, walking back to your tent. However, before you strip off the layers of clothes that protect you from heat loss, you notice that you have no firewood. You go back to the forest and collect twigs and small logs of wood that you can use to light a fire at night.

You go back to camp, dragging a small wood sled behind you. You think about Fedyor's words and whether they might actually turn out to be true. You blush as you remember the countless late nights spent in the war room talking to the general about plans, reports, new recruits, or just drinking his kvass with him and talking about anything and everything. It's true, you were close... but would you be willing to jump in and risk everything—your entire career and the life you created in the Little Palace—to try to be more to him than just one of his soldiers? Especially when he could have had a Sun Summoner?

Lost in your thoughts, you don't notice familiar, dark shadows starting to swirl behind you. You scream in shock, both from the feeling of someone suddenly pulling you into his chest and from the fact that the skin on your neck and face meets the icy snow.

General Kirigan's laughter, the familiar scent of his cologne, and the warmth emanating from him calm you enough to realise that you are not in the arms of anyone dangerous. Well... if a shadow summoner could be considered such. But the coolness of the snow he rubs into your face and neck effectively shakes you from thoughts of him as you try to fight back.

He chuckles and holds you tighter with one hand as you kick and struggle in his arms.

“A good soldier knows when to surrender, Y/N.” he whispers into your ear, clearly amused. His silky tone of voice was as mischievous as it was slightly defiant and dangerous. "Shouldn't you have enough honour to obediently endure the punishment of your general?"

"Punishment? What for?" you ask as you manage to wipe the snow off your face enough to keep it from sticking in your mouth as you speak.

"Do you think I would let your little stunt get away with it? I wonder if you can still throw so accurately with snow in your kefta…" he says, slowly scooping up more snow and guiding his hand with it under your coat.

"NO!" you scream, amused and scared at the same time.

You use your powers to stun him for a moment and pull yourself out of his arms. You don't get very far, though. His shadows chase after you, and he keeps you tightly against his chest again. You struggle with him so much that you both fall screaming into a large snowdrift.

You land on top of him, blushing furiously as you realise this. The snow around you cools you a little, and you start to feel the cold seep into your bones despite everything.

"Armistice?" you ask him, your hand full of snow ready to attack.

He chuckles, amused, which only makes your smile widen. You had rarely seen him so… carefree. Especially now that he was so focused on finding Morozova's stag.

"For now. I will still look for my revenge." you whine, dissatisfied.

"It was only one snowball, Aleksander. I wasn't even aiming at you!" you protest. You squeak, surprised, as he switches, so now he is on top of you. A dangerous smile played on his face as he looked at you with a mischievous spark in his dark eyes.

"You think so?" he asks with a cheeky smirk, the hand holding the snow coming dangerously close to the buttoms of your kefta under your coat.

"All right, you won! Please don't. I'm freezing."

He frowns when he hears that you are cold. He lets go of the snow and wipes his hand on his coat before touching your cheek. He sighs, feeling how cold you are. He stands up first and helps you up, still watching you carefully.

"Let's go back to the camp. I wouldn't want my second-in-command to get sick because she decided to play in the snow" he says, and you blush slightly.

He only makes you redder by taking your hands in his and breathing warm air on them. You see the nostalgia in his eyes, and you can't help but ask him a question.

"What is it?"

"It's just... it's been so long since I did it. The last person I threw snowballs with was my sister. It feels like... centuries ago." he whispers thoughtfully, not letting go of your hands.

Unconsciously, he starts drawing patterns on your hands with his thumbs. You see him going back to his memories. How his eyes darken with sadness, even hurt. You don't know what must have happened to make him so depressed, but you feel the inner need to fight off all his worries just to see his smile again—the gleam of joy in those dark, hypnotising eyes.

"Well… maybe you can do it again? After all, the holidays are coming. You'll definitely want to visit her. Or she you." you say, choosing your words carefully. He didn't talk much about his family. Even his name was a big secret. And from your information, as long as it was good, you were the only one who knew it.

"It's a little more complicated." he says it gruffly and pulls away from you. You curse yourself in your mind, not even knowing what you did wrong. "Neither of us sees anything... special about it."

"You don't have a family meeting? Never?"

"We're not close. I don't remember when was the last time we got together. Not to mention something as insignificant and trivial as all this exchange of gifts, celebrations and prayers to the saints." he replies, pulling your sled of wood as you both walk back to camp.

You can tell by the tone of his voice that he doesn't want to talk about it anymore, so you change the subject and ask about the next steps in his plan to capture the deer, and he perks up a little more.

Little does General Kirigan know that you're half-listening to him, thinking about something entirely else. The distant look in his dark eyes when he talks about his family—that hidden longing for something he pretends not to want—tells you one thing.

You will make sure he feels different this year. You will do everything to replace his clearly unpleasant memories with harshness from his loved ones, memories he doesn't want to share with something better.

"We'll discuss the details in my tent tonight. I hope you don't get sick. We don't have time for any delays. We have to finally catch that damn stag by the end of the year at the latest. Although our only tracker who saw it will keep hanging around the Summoner Sun instead of tracking, I don't see it well." he says, and anyone else would find his words harsh and irritated, but you've long since learned that his eyes are the true reflection of his feelings and emotions.

The one thing he couldn't control. He gives you the rope of the sled, and before he leaves you, he ties his scarf around your neck, mumbling something about how you don't know how to pack the most necessary things for the mission.

You go back to your tent and light a fire. After a while, a fabricator comes in and hands you black leather gloves without saying a word. He's gone before he can see you smiling and blushing, realising WHO told him to make them for you.

You shake your head, trying to get past Fedyor's teasing words from the hours ago. It's just a friendly gesture. Nothing more.

But this is the moment when you make your final decision.

You will see the general again, as happy and carefree as he was a few moments ago. So relaxed and calm as he deserves to be, at least in this time of year...

Even if, along the way, your stupid heart had to completely and hopelessly fail for a man you could never have.

Thank you! 🩵🖤🩵🖤

~•♤♤♤•~ Part 2 ~•♤♤♤•~

[mausoleum-letterbox]

Today, she wears beige and cream—spared, yet, from years of wear and tear.

Today, they're as new as the day she bought them, and February is a beautiful, frigid affair. Snow still sticks to the untrampled stones, not yet slush.

Pressed close to her hip, he holds to her hand—sticky child, with his fingers scrubbed free of grime. His own is barely just smaller, barely able to still be swallowed whole. His eyes watch the pendulum made by their movements ; a unit, together, a grandfather clock. It isn't until she speaks, voice muffled by the wind, voice muffled by his own distraction,

"Schavo," and he looks up.

He does not respond. His tongue is dry in his mouth, his cheeks whipped red in the blustery air. He won't respond, he thinks, in that childhood sort of stubbornness, until they're back in the cottage—tucked safely between the treeline and the shore.

Instead, he stares at her expectantly, wide eyes marveling at those that peer back. His are brown like newborn fawn, light and soft with all-seeing innocence.

Hers are tired. He doesn't yet know why.

At least her voice is lively, sing-song, in time with birds he'll grow to miss. "Schavo."

He's plenty far off from knowing how much he'll miss her, too.

Today, he turns nine, and he clings to the hem of her dress, letting her drag him about the market.

"What does my schavo wish to eat tonight?" She studies his face, dark eyes scrutinizing what pinkens in the cold. Studious, always, they betray the soft edges of her mouth. "Rabbit?" She nudges, like she's a youth all the same.

He blinks. He shrugs.

Another push, soft, her forearm or her hip. She's trying at humorous. "Maybe /hen,/ hm?"

He can feel his face contort, cold settled into browbone, creaking when he frowns. She laughs at his disgust, and he can feel the reverb burrow into his chest, leaving ache where it tunnels.

"This picky son of mine," she speaks to no one but herself—and him, who stands at her side, trembling with the weight of her judgement. A hand cards through his hair, the one not bound to carry bundles of fabric, and coils loose curls around her fingers. She'd only braided his hair this morning, and half-til-noon, it's already come undone.

He blinks back hot tears and focuses on her dress, on how he leaves marks that seep into the fabric. Sootlike, almost, as they cool with the air ; the ache in his chest drips into his gut and pools. Corrodes, then, into guilt.

"Oh, come, now," soft coo, when she realizes he's sniffling. She takes her hand from his hair, only to snake her arm around his head. Half-way hug, an embrace made all the more awkward by the way they stand by stall. "You needn't cry."

It's meant to be soft, he thinks—in the moment, relived, it's more of a chide. She presses her lips to the top of his head, but does not purse them ; settled, stitch-straight, against his crown.

She pulls away before he can bury himself in it.

"Do you want rabbit," she tries, again, as she shuffles them away from the weaver's stand, "or lamb? Sweet boy."

He blinks away what blurs her face, but fixes his eyes on the ground. He feels /brattish,/ like this, clinging to her, offering nothing.

/"Lamb,"/ He whispers, because nothing that comes from his mouth is anything but meek. Mousy boy, white as rat. "Please, dej," he adds, and buries his begging in her frock.

Again, she laughs, clucking softly as it trills. His face is hot with the shame of it.

He tries to wipe it off, the burning humiliation, tries to soften shame in the cotton on her hip.

She doesn't comfort him, this time. She turns, and he can feel cotton slip through his fingers, just as time will.

Stone-still, his little boots cemented to the road, he blocks plenty of traffic. His mother is swept away in the underbrush, or maybe she leaves with it. A dread bubbles as snot does, something he'll live day to day with, soon.

The folk that wash out all sight of her offer no kindness—glares spared, not glances, at the anchor sitting ashore. Everything blends together, people and faces, dresses and pants. Even his hiccuping, messy sobs are drowned out by the undercurrent, beat set not by the pound of his heart, but the gallop of their boots.

There's a hand in his, at some point, one that pulls him aside. The voice that must be connected to it chides a familiar word, as he struggles to shuffle in time.

"I'm sorry," he weeps, as she boxes around him, crouching to his height. Her lovely dress settles on the murky ground, and more apologies spill in time with the sway of dirtying hem. "I'm /sorry,/ dej, /I'm sorry,"/

His voice cracks, dropped porcelain, as she holds him in her arms.

/"Schavo,"/ she has to interrupt, as he presses his cheek into the crook of her neck. He seeks to hide in the warmth that she shields him with, but they both know she won't allow that. His shoulders are dwarfed by her hands. "My, Andrew, what has gotten into you?"

"I'm sorry." He's sniveling, pathetic child, as he presses the balls of his palms into his eyes. So that he might not see hers, so that he might only feel the softer side of her scorn.

This is not allowed ; she pulls his hands down, and watches, carefully, as his head lolls.

"My Andrew," her repetition is much more purposeful than his. "You were so excited to come with me, today." Her voice is sadder than it was ; he wishes he could say more than what breaks from his lips.

"I'm sorry, dej," her dress is dirty with snow, and now her shoes are painted in his tears.

She tuts, holds him, all angles and frail edges, close to her heart. "I know."

He knows he's mussing up her dress worse, even as she's fussing over his hair ; he leaves her apron stained and snotty, and she slicks his cowlicks down, toying with braids unbecoming.

"But what have you to be sorry for?" Her fingers seek to split them, undo, redo, by this stall. She doesn't, though, just lays her fingers against. "It's only supper, bakri, it isn't supposed to /scare/ you."

Just because she smiles—it doesn't wash his sour sadness away. She sighs, places palm against his cheek.

"I only want you to be happy today. It's such a /good/ day, too, all yours ; can't you do that, for this dej of yours?"

The shrug he gives is met with hardly-pitying snort. She rubs her thumb along what remains of baby fat. He grows thinner by the day, and they both know it.

"Oh, /please,/ sweet boy? Where's my happy schavo, who was so excited to come with me into town?

"Where's my sweet Selim, hm? The one who made his dej braid his hair?" She twists what remains of rowdy plaits, pushes bushy ends against his cheeks. When he laughs, a bit of shine returns to her eyes—or maybe he's blinking away what remains of his tears. He covers his eyes with his hands, again, to hide from ticklish onslaught.

"Could that son of mine gone off while I was talking to the weaver, hm? Run along to join the lambs, butting heads all the while?" Pointer taps against her chin, feigning daydream.

He snickers from beneath his fingers, peering out to see faux thought. Her smile seems more genuine, her eyes alight with a luster she loses much too often,

"No, no, my Selim is a good boy," her thumbs slip between the cracks against his face, yet she doesn't yank when she pries. "He's only hiding in plain sight!"

She scoops him up, giggling wild, and fixes him on the hip that doesn't hold bundle.

"There he is, my Selim—who doesn't have a thing to cry for, today! Too good a birthday to be ruined by some tears," a kiss to his temple, then to his cheek, until all that stings is the giddiness of grin, and his cheeks aren't stained salty any longer.

"Now, you help this mother of yours!" They're both brighter when she lowers him to his feet, and tucks tall wrappings into his hand. "You help me carry these, Andrew, and I'll carry our lamb."

And, after he nods a final time, eyes bright like the spring soon approaching, he's the one to drag her to the butcher's stall—

—

When he wakes with a startle, he finds his face is damp, his hair slick with sweat. His pillow is stained, already—

The sob that rips from his chest is violent, visceral ; the frame shakes as he does, too.