#Blizzard of Hops

[fibula-rasa]

Favorite New-to-Me Films

February 2023

(in no particular order)

The Bell Hop (1919) [letterboxd] (seen on Silent Comedy Watch Party)

The SuperGal / ザ・超女 (1986) [imdb | letterboxd]

Zora Neale Hurston: Claiming a Space (2023) [imdb | letterboxd]

A Tough Winter (1923) [imdb | letterboxd]

The Blizzard / Gunnar Hedes saga (1923) [imdb | letterboxd]

The Treasure / Der Schatz (1923) [imdb | letterboxd]

Bed Time (1923) [imdb | letterboxd]

The Rafter’s Bride / Koskenlaskijan morsian (1923) [imdb | letterboxd] (available on Elonet with English subtitles)

[mrbawbdobalina]

MF DOOMFIST

[lazyvase]

I can’t play Overwatch 2 on my main switch anymore. Not enough space. The updates are killing me.

[mzcain27]

I need wow to like. Let me turn expansions on

[gebbzsteelo]

Book Club in Rotterdam , Netherlands , 2023

[loucifersbitch]

tagged by @bidisasterevankinard (and others during the last few days <3) have some tevantober week 2 that i still haven't finished (oops) [aka the freak blizzard/injured tommy fic]

On his very last call of the shift, Tommy was on ground crew for an extrication when he had a small run in with a patch of ice. He could’ve caught himself if Ortega hadn’t hit the same patch of ice and knocked them both on their asses - or in Tommy’s case, on his side, his head smacking the ice and a sharp shard leaving a cut over his eyebrow. Luckily he could get away with some butterfly bandages and wouldn’t have to worry about stitches on his face, but the skin around the cut was still tender. When the paramedics released him, he hopped on the rig back to Harbor so he could go the fuck home, take some Tylenol, and sleep for the next three days. Yanking his phone out of his pocket inside his turnouts put a damper on those plans. 19 missed calls 6 new voicemails 27 unread messages “Goddammit,” Tommy said under his breath, then louder, “who told Evan?” Three hands shot up, not one of them looking the least bit sorry. “Technically I called Chimney,” Donato said. “I called Wilson actually,” Hansen added. Tommy looked at Ortega and raised an accusing eyebrow. “Okay, fine, yeah, I called Buckley. Sue me. I felt bad for getting you covered in blood, and I thought you might need your boy to take care of you.” With a defeated groan, Tommy dropped his head back against the seat, eyes closed. “Fantastic.” Evan picked up on the second ring.

tags

@carrythatwayt @monsterrae1 @bi-buckrights @xofemeraldstars @sherlocking-out-loud

@buckleylonglegs @sunglassesmish @powersuitup @theotherbuckley @lavenderleahy 

@buckhastwohands @buckevantommy @buckera @evansboyfriend @bucksbignaturals 

@aringofsalt @firewasabeast @firehose118 @ohithankyou @beefcakekinard

@smallandalmosthonest @hyperfocusthusly

[corroded-hellfire]

Prompt Day 17: "This One's For You."

Word Count: 1k

Rating: G

Pairing: Eddie x Reader

CW: None

Summary: Snowed in during a blizzard, Eddie’s daughter Eliza proves just how like him she is.

@corrodedcoffinfest

[As You Wish masterlist]

Eddie hasn’t taken many classes in his life, let alone any philosophy ones, but he couldn’t help but ponder one philosophical question these last three days: how long can someone be locked in the same house as two teenage boys and a four-year-old girl before they go absolutely insane?

The blizzard outside had sealed the five of you in the house together for the third straight day now and it’s becoming maddening. There are only so many activities one can do with a four-year-old that will, one, hold their attention, and two, not make you want to tear your hair out after an hour. 

Some of the things you’ve done as a family have been very entertaining, like when you all played Pretty Pretty Princess and somehow Eddie kept winning and Ryan and Luke were having a great time adorning him with the pink plastic jewelry. The pictures you took of that will forever be cherished—as long as you can keep them out of your husband’s hands. 

Having Luke and Ryan try to teach you how to play some of their favorite video games was amusing as well. The boys more so than the game, though. It quickly became apparent to you that your sons do not possess the patience to teach anything to anyone—let alone a first-person shooter game where they expect you to master the use of a dozen buttons on a controller that you’ve never held before. 

“I don’t think this Hollow game is for me,” you say after “Master Chief,” as your kids called him, gets killed for the fourth time.

“It’s Halo!” both boys shout, one on each side of you so you get it in stereo.

It takes all your willpower not to laugh as you press your lips tightly together to suppress a smile. You remembered the name of the game the second time they told you, now you’re just messing with them. 

An afternoon of you and Eliza looking through an old photo album springs to life an idea in her little mind.

“That Daddy?” she asks, pointing to a picture of Eddie in action up on stage. He’s in the middle of headbanging, so his curls are flying wildly around his head.

“That’s Daddy,” you tell her. “Being a rockstar, showing off in front of everyone.” You smile down at your daughter before playfully poking her in the belly. “Reminds me of you.”

Eliza’s eyes light up at the comment and you can’t help but wonder what sparked in that head of hers. 

“Be back!” she shouts as she hops off the couch. Her tiny feet make thunderous booms as she runs down the hallway, calling out for her brothers. “Ryan! Luuuuuke!”

After dinner, the four-year-old instructs you and Eddie to sit on the couch and to stay still and wait for her. Keeping quiet, you and your husband trade amused looks until the door to the pink princess room opens, and Eliza re-emerges, decked out in her Tinker Bell costume from Halloween. On each of her small legs is a black sock that clearly belongs to Ryan. They are also clearly meant to be knee socks, yet they go up the small girl’s thighs. Finishing up her ensemble is her pink Piglet sunglasses. 

Gripped in her tiny fist is the music player with a microphone that she was gifted as a toddler. The way she enters the room with all the gravitas and confidence of a model walking the runway almost makes you think you’re the one who’s dressed unconventionally. 

Behind her, Ryan has a toy guitar that has been passed down through all three children tucked under his arm and Luke carries the gray garbage pail from the bathroom in one hand and a CD in the other. 

While Eliza takes her place front and center before you and Eddie, Ryan positions himself behind her, yielding the spotlight. 

Luke steps over to the stereo and pops in the CD he was holding before following his big brother’s lead and assuming the position behind the star of the show. Ryan tugs an ottoman over to sit on, the toy guitar resting on his knee while Luke sits on the floor and flips the garbage pail over so he can use it as a drum.

“Are you ready?” Eliza asks, mouth right up against the yellow plastic of her microphone.

“Yeah!” you exclaim.

“Woo!” Eddie cheers. 

“Hit it!” Luke says. 

The music begins, notes floating over from the stereo to this impromptu performance space. It takes a moment, but you recognize the song before Eliza starts singing Part of Your World.

The CD turns out to be a compilation of different Disney songs covered by Disney Channel stars, and Eddie makes a mental note to ask you why the hell you bought that for her. 

Ryan and Luke are surprisingly into it, having fun performing while their little sister hams it up. They’re like their own little version of Hanson. 

The instrumentals of the next song drift through the air and Eliza tosses her pink sunglasses aside and points at Eddie.

“This one’s for you!” she shouts, which is very mismatched with the slow, melodic tune that’s playing. 

You rest your head on your husband’s shoulder as your little girl starts to serenade him with her rendition of Go the Distance from Hercules. 

Once she sings the last note (and you hide your wince as best as possible), Eliza lets the yellow microphone fall from her hand. She bends at the waist, bowing so far down that her curls flip over her head and brush the navy carpet. 

It’s your cue, so you and Eddie both clap, cheering for the adorable performance.

Luke stands and takes a bow next, and Ryan figures he might as well follow his lead. 

Eddie whistles and a rare blush tinges Eliza’s cheeks. 

“Thank you!” she calls, arms raised over her head, addressing her crowd.

The true daughter of a rock star. 

“Goodnight!”

[miguelhugger2099]

Snowfall

Summary: You, the Goddess of Life, visit the God of Death in the forest during a snowstorm. Next Miguel x Fem!Reader, Proofread but I was half-asleep, Fluff, A smidge of angst, Word Count: 1,458 This song is what caused this fic to form in my brain.

A blizzard had made its way to the village, its cold and harsh winds slamming against wooden cabins and tiny snowflakes that only piled up into mountains by the hour.

However, by his lonesome, stood a man in the forest. A forest that had once been flourishing with soft green grass, and a gentle blue lake in the middle with the sun's warm rays peeking through the leaves of the giant pine trees.

His black coat and black shawl around his head was a stark contrast to the pure white snow on the ground and in the sky. But it matched perfectly with the splatter of blood that tainted said purity.

He bent down, kneeling before the creature that had spilled blood: a baby deer wounded by its ribs. It was shot for food by hunters right before the blizzard hit, leaving them to abandon the animal.

The fawn wheezed softly, its beady black eyes staring up at the man. It weakly twitched, its hind legs failing to push itself up. The baby had squirmed the closer the man approached it with a gentle hand. Despite the cold weather, the man never shivered when a particular gust of wind blew through the branches, making his shawl slip off his head.

He gently caressed its head, rubbing his thumb comfortingly under its eye. He felt an ache for the poor baby, lost and alone in the bitter cold.

The baby had bleated softly, perhaps a cry to its mother before falling limp–marking the end of its life. His frown deepened, flinching his hand back to his chest and standing up again. The soul of the animal ripped itself from the confinements of mortality, stretching its limbs. He watched it flail around in small hops, before staring at him for a moment, its nose twitching and scurrying away to the afterlife.

He then turned his head down to glare at the dead body until a kind voice interrupted him.

“I apologize for the intrusion, Miguel.” He turned around with his eyes widening slightly. He saw you stand a few feet away from him, your usual soft smile on your face. Quietly, he whispered your name.

You wore a white cloak over a warm thick white cotton dress–he assumed with many layers underneath– and a crown made of branches atop of your head. You seamlessly fit into the background of the snow with your outfit. Your hair was the same, perfect as ever, free and let down from any hairstyle. The cold had gotten to you, snowflakes on your eyelashes and you held yourself close to keep a bit of warmth.

You approached him, the crunch of the snow underneath following you. When you met with him face to face, you gingerly reached over to place his shawl back over his head to protect him from the cold even though you both knew he didn't really need it.

“You shouldn't be here.” Miguel worried, fussing over you as he held you by your forearms. “You're supposed to be resting.”

Every year for a few weeks, you would take the time to sleep after a couple of months caring for Mother Earth. Miguel, the God of Death, offered to help you by taking care of Mother Earth while you slept. So instead of flourishing crops, warm sun and bright scenery, Miguel's cold hands left trees dying, more opportunities for illness, and an even bigger chance of death–the season many humans know as winter.

“I wanted to see you.” You smiled at him which made Miguel scoff at your ridiculousness. He took off his shawl and placed it around you to keep you warmer. Miguel stopped you before you could protest.

“You and I both know that I wear these just so the mortals don't ask questions,” He grumbled, successfully wrapping the fabric in a snug manner. Since you were the Goddess of Life, you were more used to the warmth of the sun shining down on you and the blood pumping through your veins and to your beating heart. For Miguel, all he knows is the coldest feeling there is, so a storm like this could never harm him. You stared up at him with adoration before yawning. Miguel pointed it out. “I knew it. Go back to bed.”

Despite his warning you slip past him to stare at the deer that had fallen into Miguel's care. Your eyes glazed over its body, resting a moment longer on the gunshot wound that was still seeping red into the plush snow, the blizzard slowly covering its body in a white blanket.

He stands behind you as you bend down on your knees to kneel beside the deer, nervously awaiting your reaction. “You tried saving its life, didn't you?” You asked, never turning away from the animal. You began petting it gently as if it were still alive.

Miguel frowned, looking off to the side. “I was putting it out of its misery.” You huffed a small laugh through your nose and got up again on your feet. You turned to him again and reached up to cup his cheek. He melted into your hand, the only source of warmth he could ever get the chance to feel. His eyes softened down at you.

“Thank you.” You whispered. Miguel's face hardened again but he did not stray from your palm.

“For what? For killing your creations?”

You sighed. No matter how many times you've had this conversation with him, he always seemed to put himself down. “You don't kill, Miguel.” You assure him.

“My life's work is to kill. It's my duty.” He retaliated, his eyes glancing at the fawn before looking back down at you.

“You think lowly of yourself.” You slip your hand down to his chest. “Your work is beautiful.”

“There's no beauty in death, my lady.” Miguel placed his hand over yours on his chest. You don't feel a heartbeat drumming inside. “It's grotesque and heartless.”

You scrunch your nose, not believing a word he's said. “And who has told you this? The mortals?” You ask. His jaw clenches.

“They adore you and not me.” He says.

“Are you saying you're jealous, my lord?”

“I'm saying what is true,” He says firmly, not wanting to amuse your upcoming antics. “You are beauty. You are perfection. You are divine,” He cups your cheek and you shiver from the coolness of his fingers.

“Look around you. Mortals are struggling to stay warm, to find food and shelter. I've caused this. They…they curse my name,” He comes closer to you, tilting your head up to meet his ruby eyes. “I fear you shine too brightly, my lady.” Your breath hitches as you look up at him. You shake, not knowing if it's from the puff of wind passing by or your heart stuttering in your chest when he inches closer.

“What are you saying, Miguel?” You whisper.

His eyes dart to your lips, stopping the urge to kiss you. “I want to shine with you. But I'm not worthy. Not with the acts I've done. Not with the blood I've spilled alongside mortals and destroying your works of art.”

“Miguel,” Your heart speeds up, quick to calm the self destructive thoughts he's producing.

“My life has no meaning without you. What good is appreciating life if there is no death? You make living precious. You make it sacred. And when the time comes, you make it merciful,” Your other hand comes up to his hair, running your cold fingertips through his strands. “That is your true nature. Whatever humans do to abuse your power is not a part of you.”

Miguel leans his forehead against you, closing his eyes. You mirror his actions, pressing against him and simply feeling him. His hands move around you, bringing you closer by the waist. The wind passes by with a high pitched whistle. “So…warm.” He breathes out softly.

He pulls away from you, bending at the waist to pick up your hand and kiss your knuckles. You feel your cheeks heat up while he looks up at you through his eyelashes. “You must be tired, mi reina. I'll take you home.”

Miguel reaches down to pick you up bridal style. You wrapped your arms around his neck and nuzzled closer to him despite his freezing exterior. You feel him hold you tightly to his chest protectively as he walks out of the forest to bring you home.

The fawn's dead body lies underneath a pile of snow now, hidden from the world. Its remains will seep into the ground, nurturing the future plants that will grow in its place once the winter is gone and spring returns– the cycle of life and death– an eternal harmony.

A/N: man i fucking love anything to do with gods and goddesses. i might make this a mini series of just snippets of their relationship but ahhhh i dunno if anyone will even like this tbh. i did have fun writing it though

[simon-isnthere-rn]

FROSTBITE.

Pairings : Arthur Morgan x GN!reader

Summary : Reader and Arthur go out hunting, Arthur pushes through the snow until he’s shaking like a leaf, his nose red, and his feet numb. Reader tends his wounds and scars, helping him warm up.

Tags : fluff, minor nudity, slight use of Y/N.

Wc : 850+

An : yes Ik it’s short I was half asleep doing ts 😭🤦 also this is my first fic that I didn’t scrap so have mercy 💔😢

It was a brutal, cold night. Dutch’d sent you and Arthur out hunting. This week was cruel, barely any animals were around the campsite, the blizzard had gotten worse— and most dreadful of all, John had came back with half his head torn by wolves.

“Goddamn— thick sunovabitch..” Arthur murmured under his breath as he walked in the deep inches of snow while you follow close.

It was hard to see in this blizzard, the only thing you could’ve seen was endless white snow for miles. Arthur had prepared his gun already. “So damn hard to hear anything in this state,” he growled. “Look out for anything movin’. Could be anything,but ‘least it’s somethin’.”

You nod, pulling out your revolver. “Even if it’s a goddamn bear?” You scoffed.

“Specially if it’s a goddamn bear.”

———————————𖦹₊ ⊹————————————

A few hours of waiting around has passed— your knuckles had gone red already. Arthur was already shaking. Just a week ago the blizzard ate and tore apart Arthur’s jacket.

“Goddamn,” he growled, squinting his eyes.

“You alright?” You tilt your head at him, face full of concern.

“Of course.” He replied, ashamed to admit he’s shaking like a goddamn leaf.

“Shh— quiet. I hear shuffling in the snow,” he murmured, crouching down in the deep snow. “Hide. Don’t wanna spook it.”

Arthur crept up closer to the sound, pulling out his shotgun.

“Careful,” you warned him, gripping on your revolver.

“It don’t sound large. Sounds like a goddamn rabbit,” he chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine,” scoffing, he stood up from his position and slowly approached the sound.

As soon as he saw the snow moving. He pointed the shotgun barrel at the spot. “C’mon, boy..” he murmured to himself—

A small bear cub popped his head out.

“What the fuck?”

A loud growl is heard from the side. Arthur backed up— falling onto the deep snow— almost getting himself trapped. “Goddamnit!!”

You looked around in the direction of the snow—

There Emerged a large angry momma bear. “Oh fuck—“ you ducked down in the snow, hopping it won’t see you.

The bear approached Arthur— but fortunately for him, he’d already stood up. “Christ!!—“ he stepped back. “Easy there, girl…” he muttered as the bear growled at him. “C-‘mon. I ain’t hurt yer cub—“ he lifted his hand up, “He’s fine—“

Crck— the cub wailed in pain as Arthur stepped on his leg. “Goddamnit—“

The large bear lunges forward onto Arthur, biting his leg. “Y/N!! Fuck— Help me, Goddamnit!!”

You stumbled over and stood up, grabbing your shotgun before pointing it at the bear, pulling the trigger. The bear growled in pain, but didn’t let go of Arthur’s leg. You shoot in another time, hitting it on it’s head. It’s blood splattering and contrasting over the white snow. It fell— dead on the ground.

Arthur kicks it off his body, panting heavily. “J-jesus christ—“ he muttered. “Y/N.. help me up—“ you stumbled over the shaking man, grabbing him by his arm. “C’mon, big guy.” You scoffed

———————————𖦹₊ ⊹————————————

By the time you two reached the cabins— you assigned Bill to get the bear’s corpse. Finally— some goddamn food.

But Arthur..

You approached him in his cot. “Are you alright?”

He shook his head, feeling a bit embarrassed. “Goddamn bear almost torn me apart…” he growled.

Your gaze looked over at his bleeding leg. “Grimshaw hasn’t tended you yet?”

“No..” he grumbled. “Can’t walk over to their cabin.” He murmured.

You chuckle to yourself, going on one knee. “I’ll help.”

“… you sure?”

“Yeah,”

You grabbed a roll of bandage from your satchel, wrapping it around his bitten leg. You made it tight— making him grunt a little. “Sorry, sorry.” You muttered.

“S’fine,” he grumbled, looking away.

“Are you cold?” You looked over at the thin blanket that wrapped around his body.

“.. yeah.”

You sighed softly, standing up before sitting next to Arthur. You wrapped your jacket around him, pulling him close. “… this is just for warmth.” You muttered.

Unconsciously— he leaned his head onto your shoulder, leaning his whole body onto you.

You squeezed his shoulders slightly, pulling him closer. He grunted softly when you squeezed his arm.

“Oh— shit— what’s wrong?”

He grumbled, replying. “The bear didn’t just bite my leg,” he muttered.

“Can I see?” You asked him, scooting away slightly.

He sighed, removing his blouse. A few scratches and scars were visible on his arm and on his chest.

“Goddamn..” you muttered. “Wait here.” You stood up, running out of the cabin.

The moment you came back you were carrying a bucket of boiling water.

“Here.” You soaked a damp cloth in the water before approaching Arthur with it.

“You—.. thank you,” he murmured.

“Uhuh,” you smiled to yourself as you pressed the warm soaked cloth onto his scars.

He hissed as the warm water hit his skin, but he slowly relaxed. “Mhph,” he groaned softly.

“Too hot?”

“No, s’perfect,” he felt his whole body relax as ot warms up from the water.

“Warmin’ up already?” You teased as you tended his scars.

He groaned quietly, closing his eyes as he let out a a deep sigh. “Thank you,” he murmured.

[camtoons16]

What do you mean there wasn't a third main character?

Noticed a small trend and figured I'd hop in with my favourite moment from @ohnoitstbskyen 's playthrough of Song of Nunu! (screenshots taken from his video "Blizzards and Storms" easiest place I could find backgrounds :p )

[links-in-time]

Fair Weather Fellows

@torpetavantas asked for a fic where Legend and Twilight' hair changes colour, due to their animal forms and cold weather.

This fic allowed me to explore their relationship a little bit more, as they're a pairing I don't see very often. So thanks for the suggestion, I hope you enjoy this little tail.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

“Any luck?” Legend asked, trying to stop his teeth from chattering as he looked up. 

Twilight gave his head a forlorn shake as he came closer. Snow dusted his black pelt and had started to soak into his hair, which he tried to shake out. 

“None, this blizzard is too thick and after that mess of a battle the others could have spread out anywhere over this mountain,” Twilight sighed, hands on his hips. 

Legend's shoulders dropped and he held his fire rod that bit tighter. At the moment it was their only source of heat among the pine trees providing what little shelter they could. However, Legend could feel it drawing on his magic reserves and they wouldn't be able to rely on it for much longer. 

Twilight stared around at the sheet of white surrounding their little hollow. His keen eyes scanning for any sign of movement or shelter. But he was faced only by a wall of white. Even the mountain peak which had been visible earlier, had completely disappeared. 

“We can't stay here Lege, we need to find some shelter. I can survive the cold for a while, but I'm not sure you're so well equipped,” Twilight indicated Legend's bare legs. 

“If this is a ploy to get me to wear trousers, it's not going to work,” Legend grinned playfully. “But you're right, if we sit out in this storm much longer we'll both be in trouble. Don't suppose you have any idea which era we're in?”

“Not a clue. Those monsters were a mixed bag so no indicators there, we'll just have to hope we stumble across some civilisation at some point.” 

“So we just wander around in the snow hoping to find some shelter? Sounds like a good way to get us killed!” 

Twilight shot Legend an exasperated look as he pulled his fur cloak from his shoulders. He tossed it to Legend, who caught it with fumbling fingers. 

“Don't you need it?” Legend asked, already feeling the second hand warmth radiating from the dark fluff. 

“I've got another one,” Twilight replied with a crooked smile, before a shower of jet crystals surrounded the hero. 

Twilight shook out his coat and the aches of his transformation before padding towards Legend. The wolf gave a soft boof then turned to look over his shoulder. 

“You want me to get on?” Legend asked, uncertain about this arrangement. 

He was still a little uncomfortable about the fact that Wolfie was his brother Twilight. Legend had been less welcoming of Wild's wolf companion than the others in the first place. His borrowed instincts telling him to stay away from large predators. Then after the revelation that Twilight had been the wolf the whole time, Legend was dubious about the dark magic surrounding his crystal. 

Needless to say, Legend didn't find the idea of riding the wolf particularly appealing. However, the thought of trudging through deep snow with bare legs was even less so. With a sigh, Legend threw Twilight's cloak around his shoulders and put away his fire rod. In a few hops he managed to climb up onto the wolf’s back. 

Twilight only waited a moment to make sure Legend had a good enough grip on his fur before he was off. With his heightened senses the mountain came alive with scents and sights invisible to his Hylian eyes. There were deer trails and bear signs, but very few recent tracks. The constant snow having covered them up. 

Legend of course saw none of this. He decided to hold onto Wolfie for dear life and bury his face in Twi's fur. The rocking motion of Twilight's strides was uncomfortable and verging on nauseating. Legend was reminded of the feeling he got when he used the tornado rod, jostled about at something else's whim. He just hoped Twilight would find them some shelter sooner rather than later. 

***

“I think this is a good spot,” Legend shouted over the rushing wind. 

He emerged from the narrow cave to find Wolfie still on guard by the entrance, but he turned his head when Legend approached. 

“We can pack snow around the entrance to make it smaller and stop the wind getting in, but it will do for now to get us out of the elements. Are you going to…?” Legend's question trailed away as Twilight answered it. 

As he turned around, Legend watched the last shadow crystals fading away as Twilight stood up on two legs. 

“Why do you stare like that?” Twi asked. “You have an animal form too, is mine so odd to you?” 

“It's not that, look, don't worry about it. Let's just get inside and get a fire going.” Legend dodged Twilight's question and turned back towards the cave. 

Troubled by his companions' behavior, Twilight followed Legend at a distance, making sure not to crowd the smaller hero in the narrow cave. They quickly set about making a campfire and worked together to block up the entrance to the cave with hard packed snow. 

“My hands are freezing!” Legend shuddered, holding them close over the flickering flames. 

“You want some spare clothes?” Twilight offered. 

“I've got a blanket,” Legend replied stiffly. “We should probably take it in turns to sleep, make sure we aren't found by monsters or wolfos.”

“Agreed. Rock leaf blade to see who goes first?” 

Legend sighed, they often settled small decisions like this with the children's game. 

“Okay, on three, and no best of three like Wind plays it either.” 

“Alright, one, two, three.”

The two boys slapped their fists against their palms in time with the count until Twilight reached three. Legend kept his hand curled into a fist, while Twilight held out two fingers. 

“Rock beats sword, you're taking the first watch,” Legend announced, with a satisfied wiggle. 

“Fine, get some sleep, Lege, I'll wake you in a few hours.”

Legend was more than happy to oblige as he wrapped himself up in his thickest blanket, making sure to tuck in all his limbs. Laid down on his bedroll, as close to the fire as possible, Legend closed his eyes and willed for sleep to claim him quickly. Meanwhile, Twilight gently touched the crystal hanging from his neck and shifted back into wolf form. The now familiar ache and pain of his transformation exacerbated by the frigid cold. Shaking his shaggy fur to fluff himself up, Twilight padded over to the entrance to their little sanctuary and sat down to peer out at the cold world beyond. 

***

It had been mid afternoon when the Chain had been split up. Twilight gave Legend until what he deemed midnight before he decided to wake him for his turn on watch. Wrinkling his nose and letting out a long yawn, Twilight rose and walked back towards the fire. Though his thick fur kept him nice and warm in such conditions, the heat of the fire was extremely welcoming to his extremities. 

Twilight started to focus his thoughts into transforming back into his Hylian form, deciding Legend wouldn't appreciate being woken by a giant wolf in a strange cave. However, when he saw Legend shivering on the ground, he hesitated. 

The slender teen had done his best to wrap himself up snug and tight, but clearly one blanket and a dwindling fire wasn't enough. Legend's teeth chartered and his eyelids flickered every now and then. With his blanket pulled all the way up to his nose his boots stuck out at the other end. Clearly he was uncomfortable and cold, but Twilight wasn't sure what the best thing to do would be. 

He didn't want to wake Legend only for him to have to sit and shiver through the night on watch. The Captain would probably berate them both for not setting a watch, but the Captain wasn't there. Legend was cold and exhausted and Twilight could only do so much. 

Deciding to lend his own body heat to the problem, Twilight curled himself around Legend's back. He just prayed he wouldn't give the vet a heart attack when he woke up. 

***

“Mnn,” Legend moaned, as he drifted back into the realm of consciousness. 

As soon as he realised he was awake however, he decided he wanted to go back to sleep. His body tingled with warmth and comfort, something this adventure had been sorely lacking. The last time he remembered feeling this cosy, he had been sitting beside his fiancé in front of a roaring fire, a cup of his favorite tea warming his hands. 

Right now however, despite his desire to drift back to sleep, Legend was curious to know why he was so warm. And why Twilight had apparently neglected to wake him for his watch. Legend focused his eyes a little better and found the campfire was close to burning itself out. Only a few smoldering coals remained from the branches and sticks he had piled on before going to sleep. 

Alarmed that their heat source was about to go out, Legend rolled free of his blanket and quickly stacked some small sticks on top of the embers to bring the fire back to life. 

“What gives Rancher?! You almost let the fire go out!” Legend began to reprimand his companion, as he turned around. “What the…!” 

Legend fell back onto his hand as Wolfie’s sleeping form met his gaze. The dark creature opened its jaws unnaturally wide as it yawned and clicked its tongue. Twilight looked around bleerily at the sudden exclamation, his eyes quickly finding Legend staring back at him. Though the Vet was alarmingly close to the fire and Twi was concerned he might fall backwards and hurt himself. 

“Woo,” Twilight mewled softly, nodding at the fire then Legend. 

“You nearly scared me half to death!” Legend replied. “Why are you Wolfie?”

In his current form Twilight could understand his brothers well enough, but was unable to speak back to them. After considering for a moment, he shifted, instantly feeling the chill of the cave as his fur disappeared. 

“Sorry Lege, I was going to wake you in the night, but you were so cold I was afraid you might freeze to death if I didn't keep us both warm. I'm sorry I frightened you.”

“You should have woken me up Rancher, I would have been just fine. I've dealt with the cold plenty of times. You don't have to fuss over me like I'm a child.”

“I wasn't fussing, I was just worried,” Twilight insisted, pushing himself to his feet. 

“Well you can save your worry for someone who needs it. I need to go take a leak.” Legend brushed himself off as he stood and walked towards the mouth of the cave. 

Twilight was about to warn Legend that it was still frigid and dangerous outside, but given the Vet’s prickly nature this morning, he decided against it. 

***

“No sign of anyone?” Legend asked, as Twilight squeezed himself back through the cave mouth. 

“None. Wherever we are it's not a well trodden area. There's no sign of the rest of the boys either. Looks like we're stuck up here until the weather clears up,” Twilight sighed, shrugging snow from his shoulders and shaking it from his hair. 

“Hmm, the news just keeps getting better!” Legend scoffed. “You've still got snow in your hair by the way.”

Twilight ran his hands through his hair once more, but he couldn't feel any more snowflakes clinging to his locks. Maybe Legend was just messing with him. After being trapped on the icy mountain for over a week, they were both beginning to get cabin fever. 

“What's for supper?” Twilight asked, pulling off his wet cloak and picking up a blanket instead. 

“I'll give you three guesses!” Legend said in a tired voice, as he poked at the pot over the fire. 

“Mmm, ration stew, my favorite!” Twilight replied in an exaggerated faux excitement. 

Rations had been Warriors’ idea. Each time they were able to stock up on supplies, each of the boys took enough to last them a few days on their own in the wilderness, in case they got separated. Legend and Twilight had estimated their joint supplies would last them another week or so at their current rate. After that, they would either have to hope the seemingly endless storm would finally blow over, or they could at least hunt some food. 

As Twilight plonked himself on the ground beside the fire and rubbed his hands over the flames, Legend's hair caught his eye. 

“You been outside while I was gone?” He asked. 

“Huh?” Legend looked up from the stew. 

“Your hair,” Twilight said, pointing at Legend's lop-sided fringe. “The pink bits are all white, like it's got frost on it or something.”

“What are you talking about? I haven't been out…” Legend frowned, putting down his spoon to examine his hair. 

As he lifted the lock to his face however, he stopped short. Twilight wasn't exaggerating. At least six inches of Legend's hair had turned a brilliant white. Definitely the hair itself, not frost touched as Twilight had suggested. 

“Huh, that's probably concerning, right?” 

“I don't know, I always thought the pink was pretty strange to be fair,” Twilight shrugged unhelpfully. Not that he could think of anything else to say. 

“Well whatever it is, you've got it too. And weren't the marks on your face black before?” 

“What?!”

Legend rummaged in his pack and pulled out a small hand mirror which he tossed towards Twilight. Catching the small disk and holding it up to his face, Twilight's brow creased as his eyes widened. Large strands of his dark blond hair had turned white, just as Legend's had. Alarmingly the Vet was right about the mark on his forehead and cheek bones too. The Twili eye, a mark of his cursed form, had changed from charcoal gray to brightest white. 

“Fuck!” Twilight exclaimed, holding the mirror closer to his face to get a better look. 

“Something in this area must be affecting us somehow,” Legend said sagely. 

“D’you think…” Twilight trailed off, his mind racing. “Hang on a second.”

Before Legend could object, Twilight grabbed his crystal and shifted. As the shards of twilight faded around the wolf, Legend raised an eyebrow. 

“Well, that's interesting. Um, Twilight, you're going white.” Legend said tentatively. 

Twilight frowned and lifted a paw to inspect his fur. Just as Legend said, the dark gray colour had faded away to an almost pure white. Though there were still dark patches, Twilight's pelt was definitely in the process of changing colour. Concerned eyes met Legend's as Twilight lifted his head and let out a soft whine. 

“I don't think it's something we need to worry about. Unless it's permanent of course,” Legend sighed, still fiddling with his own hair. 

As his gaze drifted from Twilight back to himself a thought began to form. A possible explanation to what was happening to them. Legend sighed deeply. 

“Can… can you transform me while you're like that? Or do I have to touch the crystal?”

Twilight did his best approximation of a shrug while he tilted his head to one side. 

“I'm gonna take that as an ‘I have no idea’!” Legend chuckled, uncrossing his legs as he pushed himself up. “Let me try something.”

Twilight padded forwards and Legend held out a hand, which he softly placed on Twilight's forehead. Right over the now black mark on his head. Twi's fur was warm beneath Legend's fingers, and though instinct tugged at his insides that this was a predator, Legend fought to keep his focus. 

Legend wasn't sure what he was doing, but he had an idea. Reaching out with his own magical awareness, he searched for the Twili magic that had transformed his brother. It was difficult to distinguish between Twilight's own innate magic and the power of the Twili crystal. They seemed so intertwined and integral to one another. 

In that moment of connection, Legend finally understood why Twilight coveted the crystal and the power it bestowed upon him. Their ranch hand often spoke of the Twilight Princess he had fallen for, without being able to declare his love. Since the crystal was his only remaining connection to the Twilight Realm, there was no wonder he enjoyed being in his wolf form so much. 

When Legend opened his eyes Twilight loomed over him as though he had grown twice his size. Looking down of course it wasn't Twilight who had grown, but Legend who had shrunk. 

“Huh, he looks a bit like candy floss!” Twilight thought to himself. 

Legend suddenly froze, an action which had nothing to do with instincts or the cold. Slowly, he turned his head to stare at the wolf standing beside him. 

“Did you just…? Did I just… hear you speak?” He uttered, voice almost stuck in his throat. 

“Wait? You can understand me like this?!” Twilight exclaimed, excitement evident in his voice as he lowered his head. 

“Um, yeah, I can understand you perfectly. Your voice is a bit deeper like this, but you still sound like yourself Twi.” Legend replied 

“Wow, the only person I've ever been able to talk to in this form was, Midna,” Twilight still sounded thrilled, but his tone changed as he said Midna’s name. 

“No one else understands you like this?” Legend frowned, which in his current form Twilight thought was adorable. 

“Well I've always been able to talk to other animals, maybe that's why you can hear me? Maybe it's an animal thing more than a crystal thing?”

“Perhaps. Wait, did you say I looked like cotton candy?!” Legend suddenly exclaimed, crossing his tiny forelegs.

“Yes, sorry. I didn't know you would hear that.” Twilight replied sheepishly. 

Feeling a little more relaxed, Twilight sat back on his hind legs, his tail wagging softly behind him. 

“Right. So, your markings have almost completely reversed,” Legend mused, taking a few steps forwards. “The bits that were dark are now going white and the white bits are sort of gray.”

“Really?” 

Twilight tried to look back on himself to get a look at his coat, but one thing he had always found as a wolf was that he could hardly see his own form. Realising Twilight's struggle, Legend picked up the mirror off the ground and held it up. In his tiny fury paws the mirror felt huge, covering his entire head. 

“Wow, I look… Really different,” Twilight uttered, as he observed what he could see of himself in the tiny mirror. “I hardly recognise myself!”

“You still look like a big dumb beast to me!” Legend scoffed. 

“And you really do look like candy floss! Especially that fluffy little tail of yours, all pink and white swirls.” Twilight teased, baring his teeth. “I could just eat you all up, probably wouldn't take more than a few bites.”

Enjoying his game, Twilight began to stalk towards the pale rabbit. Mischief and hunger in his eyes. He lowered his body to the ground as though about to pounce. 

“Perhaps I'll have a candy rabbit for supper instead of rations tonight?”

Legend's heart beat was racing. He could feel it pounding against his small rib cage. His nose twitched, taking in every scent emanating from Twilight. But curse his rabbit's heart for making it impossible to figure out what to do. His eyes darted left and right, searching for escape. 

Twilight shifted in his peripheral vision and Legend panicked. He turned on the spot and dove beneath the blankets in an attempt at hiding. Burying himself so completely that Twilight lost sight of him. 

“Vet?!” Twilight huffed a laugh. “Legend? Hey, are you okay? I'm sorry if I scared you. I just wanted to have some fun.” 

No response came from the pile of blankets, save for a faint shivering. Twilight let out a deflated sigh, perhaps he had taken his joke too far. After all, Legend had been cautious of Twilight in his wolf form when he was a Hylian. Only Spirits knew how he felt about Twi in his rabbit shape. 

Twilight dropped down to the ground, pressing his chin against the floor of the cave. He puffed out a breath through his nose before nudging the lump under the blankets. 

“Legend,” said Twilight in his softest voice. “I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. Well, maybe I did a little bit. I guess my instincts in this form are pretty strong. But I really don't want you to be scared of me. You're my brother and I only want you to be happy, I don't want you to think of me as a big scary monster. So please come out and talk to me.”

It took several minutes for the blankets to stir. Twilight waited patiently as two white ears appeared on the other side of the bed roll, followed by a pair of violet eyes and a tiny black nose. Legend's eyes were still wide and wary, and they never left Twilight as he emerged from the safety of his cover. 

“For a minute there, I really thought you were going to hurt me,” Legend breathed. His heart still racing as he struggled to calm his breath. 

“I would never hurt you, Legend, I was being stupid. I'm so sorry I scared you. Please believe I would never wish you harm, no matter how I look.” Twilight insisted, a shard of ice forming in his heart at the stare which Legend fixed on him. 

“I… I know you wouldn't hurt me. I do. It's just, when I'm in this form, it's like I can't control my instincts. I hate being a rabbit. It makes me feel weak and vulnerable. Can't believe you got turned into a wolf.”

Legend crossed his forelegs again and turned away. His left ear twitched in frustration and Twilight could sense Legend's emotions coming off of him in waves. 

Great, as if he didn't feel guilty already. 

“Lege, I… I don't know why our forms are so different. But you are definitely selling yourself short. You should see just how fast you can run, it's impressive. I can only run fast for a short time before I get exhausted. And it's clear your senses are far stronger than mine. You keep twitching your ear like you're listening to something. I'm guessing you're listening to the storm outside?”

“It's loud and annoying, kinda like you,” Legend scoffed. 

“In any case, you shouldn't compare yourself to me. You've done and seen so much Lege, I had one adventure and I had so much help doing everything. Without Midna I never would have succeeded in saving Zelda and the Twilight Realm. Without this form and her power, I never would have made it. 

         But you, you've been on so many quests I've lost count of all the stories you've told us. Even if you were weak and vulnerable, which you are not, surely being a hero of courage means overcoming those obstacles. Which you have done ten times more than the rest of us.”

“Hmm, I guess you have a point. Courage not being the absence of fear and all that.”

Legend paused and sighed. The fire was dying again. During their shenanigans they had both neglected to keep it going. Even through his fur Legend could feel the air in the cave steadily growing cooler. 

“We should change back and get the fire going again.”

“Um, about changing back.” Twilight said slowly. 

“Urgh, I totally forgot about that. Don't suppose you've come across any moon pearls since the last time I was like this?” Legend groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as he tapped his foot on the floor. 

“No, sorry. I should have said something earlier, but I forgot you can't change back on your own. But since we're kind of warmer like this anyway, I'll stay like this until we can get out of here.” Twilight insisted, sitting up again and giving his head a firm nod. 

“You sure?” 

“Positive, I like being Wolfie. And I have no idea if this colour change thing will ever happen again. I kinda like it.”

“Its probably because of the weather,” Legend sighed. 

As he spoke he began pulling the blankets into more of a pile together. Twilight stood up and joined him, lending his teeth to the effort. Teeth which Legend found he no longer flinched at the sight of. 

“Wha do ou mean t wever?” Twilight asked with a mouthful of blankets. 

“In my time there are hares that live on the snowy peaks. During the summer when there's less snow on the ground, their coats are brown to disguise themselves. But in the winter when it gets colder, their fur changes to white so they can blend in with the snow cover.”

“Thats really clever. Goats do something similar by shedding their thicker wool during the summer. But I've never known of a colour changing creature before. That's so cool.”

“Yeah, well, looks like we are now thanks to these forms,” Legend sighed un-enthusiatically. 

He plonked himself down on the edge of the blankets beside the fire and picked up a few sticks to throw onto the pile. A few sparks flew up but the fire barely changed. Twilight decided to help and picked up a larger branch in his teeth, adding it carefully to the fire. With the extra fuel the flames began to grow once more, adding a little more warmth to their little haven. 

“I know I've said your rabbit form is cute, but it's also pretty cool. You know I like animals, and having a brother who can turn into one is pretty great.”

Twilight stared at the fire for a moment, the orange light dancing in his dark blue eyes. Legend watched Twilight. No longer petrified of the blue eyed beast, instead finding his presence comforting. 

“I always saw it as more of a curse. But seeing how you use yours to your advantage, how you thrive in your wolf form, makes me think maybe I was wrong.”

“How long do you think we'll be stuck on this mountain?” Twi asked, shifting the conversation in a new direction. 

“Who knows? Nayru can be a stubborn bitch, maybe she'll keep this storm up for another month!” Legend exclaimed, tucking his legs under his body as he tried to stay warm. 

“Well, if we are stuck up here for another month, we'll work together to survive. Right?” 

“Yeah Twi, a white rabbit and a white wolf, alone in the wilderness!” Legend chucked, though the idea warmed his heart. 

Perhaps being stuck in his rabbit body wouldn't be so terrible this time. 

***

“Guys! I think I found them!” Wild's voice echoed off the surrounding trees. 

Twilight quickly shook off the drowsiness of sleep and was instantly alert. Legend, who was snuggled up between Twilight's legs, was slower to react. 

“Hey guys, we found you at last. Are you both okay?” Wild continued to talk as he forced his way into the small cave. 

“Ah shit!” Legend exclaimed when he realised who was talking, and what he looked like. 

“It's alright, they'll be fine about it, I'll make sure of it,” Twilight assured him, as he slowly pushed himself up onto four legs, careful not to jostle Legend too much. 

Twilight shifted back into Hylian form and asked Wild if Sky was with him. Unfortunately Sky was with another search party and Wild only had Four and Time with him. With a sigh, Legend allowed Twilight to pick him up and carry him from the cave. 

“Whoa Twi, what happened to your hair?!” Four remarked, unable to keep himself from pointing. 

Twilight could guess what he looked like, his usually shaggy hair as white as the surrounding snow. It had been a boon for him while he'd been out hunting for boar. Now however, it seemed to make him stand out. 

“Wait, where's Legend, and why do you have a rab…” Time began, however while he spoke his brain worked quicker than his mouth. 

He stared open mouthed at the creature cradled in Twilight's arms. Its fur was as starkly white as Twi's hair, but the little tunic it wore was still bright red. 

“Is that? How is that…? What happened to him?” Time fumbled. 

“Calm down Old Man, there's plenty of time to explain. Yes I'm a rabbit, no it's not a bad thing, yes our hair is white, it's probably because the climate is so cold and our bodies reacted to it. Any more questions?” 

Legend stared around at the small circle of boys surrounding him and Twilight. All of them seemed just as dumbfounded, and unable to stop gawping at him. 

“Right, good. Now can we please get off this damn mountain and find Sky, so I can change back!” 

[juliawrittingsblog]

Diavolo's Kinktober 2024: Shower Sex

Shower Sex

Pronouns: She/Her

Lying back on the couch in Diavolo's room, she listens to the wind rattling the window, turning the outside world into a blizzard. She enjoys the warmth of the roaring fire and the cozy blanket that bears traces of Diavolo's cologne. The familiar scent keeps her company in his absence, as meetings hold him up. She lets out a long stretch before covering herself back up and glancing at the clock—it's midnight. A pang of guilt strikes her at the thought of him having to be out so late in this cold, wet mess.

A few minutes later, Mc hears the doorknob turn and watches as Diavolo walks in, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. She can see on his face and from how his shoulders are slumped that he is exhausted.

Hoping up, Mc walks over to Diavolo as he takes off his coat, draping it over the back of the couch before enveloping her in a tight yet cold hug, a deep sigh escaping his lips.

"Rough day?" Mc inquires, rubbing her face into his chest; his scent fills her nose, and the action helps release the tension that had settled in her body.

Diavolo raises his hands above his head, letting his back have a deep stretch as he groans before placing his arms back around MC. “Indeed, it was. It was too long, actually.”

MC takes his hands in her own, and feeling how cold they are, she places them under her neck to warm them a bit. “You are ice cold, my love. Why don’t we get you in the shower to warm up?”

Tracing his hands up to cup her jaw, Diavolo cradles MC’s face to tilt her head up. His face slowly comes down for a soft kiss before pulling away to look into her eyes. “I would, but I don’t want to waste a second now that I am with you.”

A smirk plays on MC’s lips as an idea comes to her. “Why don’t I join you? We can wash each other's backs and have some quality time together,” she finishes by placing one of his hands on her cheek to nuzzle it.

A light blush dusts Diavolo’s cheeks as his cock twitches with interest at her words. “I would love that, darling, if you are okay with it, of course.” His fingers caress MC’s cheek before he slowly leans in for another soft, lingering kiss, then pulls away and places his forehead against hers, a softness in his eyes and his body relaxing at such a simple gesture.

Mc takes his hand to lead him into the bathroom, giving a kiss on his knuckles before letting go and turning to begin disrobing, leaving Diavolo with a full flush on his face. His eyes observe Mc, his gaze tracing down her bare back as he watches her clothes be discarded to the floor, leaving her exposed for him to admire.

Mc looks back at him, noticing he hasn’t started to undress and is staring at her with desire. “Are you not going to undress?”

A low chuckle escapes his lips as he steps forward, pulling her in from behind. “I am sorry, my dear; I just couldn’t help but think about how beautiful you are.” Diavolo’s lips leave butterfly kisses down her shoulder, the sensations sending tingles in their wake.

A small whine escapes Mc’s lips as her hands trail up his cheek into his hair, pulling his lips to hers for a quick kiss before turning around in his arms. “You know,” she starts, a teasing tone dripping from her voice, “it's really unfair that you're still dressed.”

Another low chuckle comes from him as he kisses the tip of her forehead, pulling away to look at her face. “Why don’t you start the shower and hop in first? I will undress and follow behind you,” he finishes, turning her body toward the shower and giving a playful tap on her behind. A squeak escapes her before she starts the shower and steps in.

In the shower, Mc steps into the hot water, feeling it flow down her body and leaving warmth in its wake as the water slowly warms her up. A sigh escapes her lips as she tilts her head back, letting the water wash over her face and soak her hair. Mc glances toward the shower curtain and sees Diavolo’s shadow moving as he undresses. She watches intently, mesmerized by his shadowed figure, an ache slowly forming between her legs as she observes his form bend and twist while he removes his clothes.

When he finally begins to approach the shower, Mc quickly turns away, a blush spreading across her cheeks as her heart races. Her breath catches in her throat as she hears him crack open the shower curtain before stepping inside with her. His large hands encircle Mc's waist, pulling her flush against his nude body, the sensation of something large and hard pressing against her bottom.

“Miss me?” Diavolo teases in a low, breathy whisper, a chuckle threatening to escape his lips as he feels her body jump at his breath on her skin.

Mc presses her backside firmer against him as she cranes her neck to reach his lips for a passionate kiss, her lips parting to allow his tongue to slip in, deepening the kiss.

A groan escapes Diavolo's lips; the taste of her kiss is addicting. Unable to get enough of her, he turns her body and presses it against the shower wall, trailing kisses down her chin and along her neck to her pulse point, nipping and sucking at the delicate skin. This action pulls a needy whine from MC as she wraps one of her legs around his waist, eliciting a growl from Diavolo’s lips. His cock slides between her folds, the delicious friction sending shivers up his spine as he continues his descent to the swell of her chest, giving her hardened buds a rough suck. The action earns him a cry of pleasure as MC claws at his back, grinding against him. A moan escapes his lips as he feels how wet she is for him, his own cock throbbing with need as he moves down her body, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake.

Reaching her center, he throws a leg over his shoulder, his eyes filled with lust as he looks up at MC. She peers down at him, breathless, her face flushed and a needy look in her eyes as she places her hand on the back of his head to ground herself.

Wiping the water out of his eyes, Diavolo dives into her wet heat, the smell of musk filling his nose as the taste of her wetness assaults his taste buds. Breathing a hum of satisfaction, he takes a broad lick at her pussy, earning a tug at his hair. Diavolo glances up at her from between her legs; the view of her looking down at him, face flushed and mouth agape for him, is enough to make his cock ache almost unbearably. He begins slowly stroking himself as he continues to devour her pussy, swirling his tongue around the swollen and sensitive bud, causing her to yank him forward and grind against his face. He obliges her silent request, placing his lips over her clit and sucking harshly, a scream pulled from her lips as she grinds against him more, incoherent babble pouring from her lips as his relentless ministrations push her over the edge. Still between her legs, Diavolo leaves a small trail of nips and kisses up Mc’s thighs, causing them to shake a bit before he finally stands up to give her a deep, crushing kiss. Never breaking the kiss, Diavolo slips his cock between Mc’s folds, sliding in and out as he holds her close. His kiss deepens as he thrusts between her legs with low grunts, feeling himself throb and drip with precum.

“Diavolo, please, I need you to fill me,” Mc whines as he slams into her, only stopping for a moment to hook a hand behind her knee, press it to her chest, and slide in with one swift movement. A moan escapes both of their lips as Mc’s walls flutter around his girth.

Picking up his brutal pace once more, Diavolo slams into Mc repeatedly, hitting that sweet spot deep within her, causing her to see stars. Her cunt clamps down on his cock as she lets out a scream, her body tensing as she comes hard all over him. Diavolo buries his face into her neck, nipping down on her skin as he muffles his own orgasm, his cock throbbing and filling her to the brim with his seed. She gasps as the warmth spreads inside her, sending chills up her spine.

Once they catch their breath, Diavolo pulls out, taking a step back to give Mc some space. She wipes the water off her face before stepping forward to turn off the shower.

“I think I'm ready for bed,” Mc says with a laugh.

Diavolo lets out a laugh of his own as he looks down at her with a twinkle in his eyes. He grabs a towel, making sure to wrap it around her as he pulls her close to give her a kiss on the forehead. “I’m also feeling a lot warmer now.”

[makethatelevenrings]

Western AU - Bruce Wayne x f!reader

Warnings: period typical misogyny, kidnapping/ransom, canon-typical violence, blizzards?

This is part of my 5k Follower Celebration! THANK YOU!

Mama wasn’t lying when she said the West was entirely different from the life you grew up living. From the moment you stepped off the train and into the blossoming town of Gotham, you were transported into a world you had only read about in the papers. When you first read the ad in the paper for a teacher, you hadn’t paid it any mind. But when suitors came calling and your father gave you a pointed look when Mr. Luthor came to dinner, you knew you needed to get out of town and fast.

The Gotham town council read your letter and sent their approval by telegraph three days after receiving it. You packed a trunk with books and clothes, but left behind the more sentimental and fragile items. This was your chance to escape your life for a year or two before you returned home to finally be tied down with a ring on your finger. With your trunk and carpet bag packed, you waved farewell to your parents and boarded the train out west.

It took four days before the train slowed to a stop at a small platform in the middle of a dust-filled street. You kept one hand on your straw bonnet as you stepped down, bag in hand. Two porters scurried down and dumped your trunk onto the wooden platform and promptly darted back onto the train. The train let out a shrill whistle and puffed out black smoke before it pulled away and headed out to its next destination, leaving you standing there like a fool.

The town council said one of their members would meet you at the train station so they could drive you to your accommodations, but you saw no one in front of the train station looking as though they were waiting for someone. Everyone in this small town moved slowly, something that was so different from life in the city. Panic rose in your throat and you glanced back at the train that was far gone at this point. Had you made a mistake?

“Woah,” a loud voice called. Two horses stamped to a stop in front of the train platform, pulling a flatbed wagon. A man pulled the reins one last time and then tilted his hat up. He peered up at you with bright blue eyes and a mischievous smile. Young, you mentally remarked. Younger than you, but certainly old enough to drive a wagon like a regular old pro. A much younger child sat beside him on the wagon bench, but he focused solely on the horses before him.

“You the new teacher?” he asked.

“I am.” You jutted your chin out and regarded him coolly. “And you are?”

The kid, because he was a kid, really, grinned and handed the reins to the child. As if he would be able to restrain two fully grown mares. The older boy hopped off the wagon and climbed up the stairs. He grabbed your trunk and hefted it up as though it weighed nothing and then lowered it onto the wagon bed before turning and offering his gloved hand to you.

“Dick Grayson,” he introduced himself. “My pa sent me to retrieve you. He’s stuck in a meeting, but wishes he was here to give you a proper introduction to the town.”

“And your pa is?” You gave his hand a firm shake.

“Bruce Wayne.” Ah, the richest man in Gotham. He had been the one to send the confirmation telegram and set up all of your accommodations for the year. The newspapers had spoken at length of the Wayne legacy and his wealth, but you were surprised to find out that he was located in such a remote town such as Gotham rather than New York or Chicago.

“C’mon, I’ll drive you over to the Gordon’s. That’s where you’ll be staying. They’ve got a spare room that most teachers stay in.”

You followed him down the steps and gratefully accepted his help into the wagon, sliding in beside the young boy. He peered up at you with a suspicious gaze and you merely raised a brow in response.

“Teach, this is Damian, my littlest brother. Don’t worry, he’s harmless.”

“I am not a baby, Richard.” His words were betrayed by the squeaky voice that escaped him and you smothered your smile with your hand, pretending to wipe dust out of your face instead.

“I’m sure you aren’t, Damian. Will you be taking classes this year?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He adjusted his hat and his green eyes darted towards your lap before back to your face. Your fingers twitched and you reached to the side he looked at and calmly extracted the frog he had placed on the bench, most likely in an attempt to scare you.

“Is this your pet?” you asked calmly. His eye twitched, just barely, and he extended his hands for the frog. It hopped from your gloves to his bare hands and let out a quiet croak. Settling back against the wooden beam of the wagon bench, you sniffed delicately and pointedly ignored the way Dick’s body trembled with laughter beside you.

“I’m excited to be your teacher this year,” you informed Damian. “All I ask is for you to respect me and I’ll respect you.”

He cradled the frog close to his chest and nodded, a little spark of begrudging respect growing between the two of you. You might be a city girl completely unused to this land, but you had dealt with your fair share of mischievous children. This wasn’t your first teaching bid, and you wouldn’t be scared off by a little frog.

The Gordon’s greeted you warmly. The father, Jim, was the sheriff of the town and Sarah, his second wife and stepmother to the children, helped him out sometimes as an informal deputy. When their oldest daughter, Barbara, wheeled out of the spare room and greeted you, you didn’t blink an eye. James Jr. was somewhere chasing lizards with some of the other school-age boys, Sarah explained, but you would meet him later. You and Barbara would be sharing a room, but that was fine by you. She was a pleasant girl and smart as all hell, you could tell just in a short conversation. Dick carried your things into the house and tugged Barbara’s braid like a brother teasing his little sister. The Waynes must be close to the Gordons, you determined.

“You must be tired,” Sarah said once the boys’ wagon pulled away. “I’ll let you get settled and Barbara will come get you once supper is ready.”

You thanked her and disappeared into the small bed. The mattress along the far wall would be yours and there were a few nails already put up in the wall where you could hang your bonnet. For the first time since you stepped onto that train, you had a chance to truly sit with your decision and breathe. Mama and Papa would write, but you weren’t sure how reliable the mail service was here.

Well, you decided. No turning back now.

The first day of classes would not resume for another week while families finished up their harvest and then moved closer to town for the incoming winter. You took the time to familiarize yourself with the town and its families, especially those with children you would be teaching, and your new school. The schoolhouse was a ten minute walk from the Gordons and it had been closed for the harvest season so there were a few things you needed to do in order to prepare. Cobwebs and dust seemed to take up every inch of space in the small one-room school so you located a broom tucked in the corner and opened every door and window to let sun in as you swept furiously. You were so focused on your task that you didn’t hear the approaching footsteps on the stairs or the gentle knock on the doorframe.

You did, however, hear a man clear his throat and greet you.

A surprised yelp escaped you and you spun around, raising the broom as some sort of makeshift weapon. The man raised his hands to show he was no threat and didn’t step further into the schoolhouse.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” His voice was a rich, silky baritone and you swallowed as a shiver ran down your arms. He was tall and broad, his shoulders nearly taking up the entire doorway. His suit was expensive, you could tell by the cut and fabric. It was the latest fashion from the East, so he must be rich. His eyes captivated you for just a brief moment. They were bright blue and, despite his charming smile, his eyes were cold.

“No harm, no foul.” You set the broom against the desk beside you and clasped your hands in front of you. “How can I help you, Mr…?”

“Wayne. Bruce Wayne.” His eyes darted around the empty school and he stepped back from the doorway and extended his arm out. “Apologies, I’ve been cooped up inside all day. I’d much rather chat out in the sunshine.”

It was a polite way of protecting both his and your reputation and you appreciated. The schoolhouse sat on the far edge of the main road and the front yard was in full view of all the townspeople that walked to and fro the various buildings. There would be no danger of you being alone in a room with an unmarried man.

“I could use a bit of sun myself,” you assented. He moved back so you could walk out of the school without touching him and he followed you down the steps and onto the grass.

“I just wanted to come by and see how you were settling in,” he explained. “I’m sorry for taking so long. I had business in the next town over for the past few days.”

You nodded and focused your gaze on the folks walking into Isley’s Mercantile. “I understand. Everything is well in hand. The Gordon’s are exceedingly kind and the town is wonderful.”

“And is there anything I can do to help prepare for the school year? Any repairs needed on the building?”

“No, not that I’m aware of. If I come across anything, I’ll be sure to inform you so you can find the suitable tradesman to complete the job.” It was a fair assumption because surely, this well-off man wouldn’t be the one to climb to the roof to nail on a new shingle.

“Have you been made aware of the yearly schoolyard picnic?” The whole town gathered at the schoolhouse to ring in the new year the second Sunday after school began. It wasn’t a ton of time to prepare, but there seemed to be more work and less down time out here than there was back home. You spent your nights sitting by the fire at the Gordons working on decorations as the steady thrum of Barbara’s sewing machine became a familiar drone. The girl had a wicked way with any new technology her parents handed her and she could sew anything, it seemed.

“Yes, Sarah told me. I’ve already begun preparations.”

He gave a perfunctory nod and looked out onto the plains. “Well, I’m glad I was able to make your acquaintance. My children will all be attending school, so I’d like to apologize in advance.”

As if on cue, a squawk of indignation came from behind the school and two kids appeared from behind it. One was tall and gangly, as if he hadn’t grown into himself yet and only grew up, and the other appeared to be around twelve. The younger one held a book in front of him as he dashed away from his older brother. Mr. Wayne sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as the two boys sprinted past, one gleeful and the other shouting for him to come back.

You merely reached out and caught the back of the younger boy’s coat. He stumbled to a stop and you reached down to pluck the book out of his hand before you released him. He opened his mouth to say something and you raised a brow in response.

“Tim,” Mr. Wayne said with a sigh. “Stop stealing Jason’s things.”

“That little fuckin’ brat,” Jason snarled when he joined the three of you. Mr. Wayne let out a pained wheeze at his language as you turned to look at the older boy. He was younger than Dick and older than Tim, so you’d place him around fifteen.

“I better not be hearing any language like that in my classroom,” you said sharply. He ducked his head and offered you a sheepish smile.

“Sorry, miss.” You accepted his apology by handing him his book. It was well-worn and well-loved by the way some of the pages clung to the peeling spine. You inclined your head to the object and then looked at Jason.

“Do you like to read?”

He shrugged his shoulders in that teenager way, as if having interests would automatically make him lose all credibility. “I guess.”

“I brought some books with me. I’d be happy to let you borrow them.” You turned your attention to Tim who was staring up at you with big blue eyes. “And you better not steal them from your brother. I’ll ask Mr. Wayne if you’re behaving at home or you’ll be stuck inside during recess with me. Do we have a deal?”

“Yes, miss,” he squeaked. You smiled to show him that you weren’t really that scary. “Alright, boys. I best get back to cleaning. I’ll see you all next week?”

“Go on to the wagon. I’ll be there in a moment,” Bruce ordered and the boys trudged off with minimal jostling and poking between them. He waited until they were out of earshot before he turned to you. “Usually my butler is the only person able to wrangle them.”

“You hired me for a reason, Mr. Wayne.” Turning back to the school, you glanced over your shoulder at him. “Have a good day.”

“Good day.” He waited until you were back inside before he headed towards the wagon. Alfred was the one to thank for hiring you. His butler truly was the smartest man alive.

It was easy to fall into a routine once the school year started. You were up with the sun and joined Sarah outside to collect eggs and milk the cows. She appreciated the help because it gave the chance for the kids to tidy up the house for her. After a quick breakfast of eggs and biscuits or hotcakes, you and the two children would start the ten minute trek to school. Barbara refused help with her wheelchair and you knew better than to keep bothering her about it. She clearly was able to move quickly without any help.

You balanced a few pails and baskets on the way to school. Books, lunch, sewing supplies, and more spilled from your bags. As you approached the town, kids dashed out of their homes and joined you three as you walked. You learned quickly that dust was a part of life here and you would be covered in it by the time the day ended, but you were also learning to get used to it.

The class came together in a boisterous, rowdy nature that you didn’t stop until your watch read that it was precisely nine in the morning. Then, you wrangled them all into the building with the clang of the bell at the front and a few shouted words, usually directed at the Wayne siblings who seemed determined to ruin their clothes before the day officially started. You counted the kids as they stumbled into the building and hung any scarves and caps up on the pegs nailed into the wall. Arithmetic, reading, writing, and science was on the docket for the day. A thirty minute recess would split the day, enabling the kids to eat lunch and also help out a bit with preparing for the picnic.

By the time the school bell rang at four, courtesy of Jason lifting Duke up to pull the rope, you resigned yourself to staying late tonight. Barbara and Jim Jr. went home with the promise of letting their parents know so James wouldn’t think the teacher got lost. Artemis wanted help with her recitation and Garfield needed assistance with his arithmetic. You also had a stack of slates to review handwriting practice before tomorrow and individual spelling lists to draw up for each student. You could probably do the last two back at the Gordon’s, but by the time the students left you in the quiet little schoolhouse, you were in the zone. You barely registered the sun setting until you finished your tasks and looked up to see the furnace had burned out.

Well, shit.

Gathering up your belongings, you figured that if you put a little pep in your step, you could avoid the drunks spilling out of the saloon and the coyotes that prowled at night. You turned to shut the door behind you, because there was no need to lock anything here, and promptly let out a scream of surprise.

“I haven’t got any money, if that’s what you’re after,” you exclaimed. A man in all black stood by the stairs, half-obscured by the shadows. A black stetson hung low across his brow and a bandana obscured the bottom half of his face, leaving the only thing visible were his eyes. All in all, he looked like the outlaws described in the papers.

Your eyes darted to his empty hands and then his waist. No gun.

Huh.

“It’s late,” he said sharply. His voice was rough and grating and deep, like the endless night sky. You let out a high-pitched laugh laced with incredulity and turned on your heel, stamping down the stairs and marching towards the Gordon’s.

He followed.

“I have no money. I have no jewelry on. And I certainly have no intention of going down gently so if you are so desperate, the saloon is over there,” you hissed. He didn’t reply but fell in step beside you.

“It’s late,” he repeated. “You shouldn’t walk alone.”

“So you decided to just tag along? Because I feel so safe right now, you nincompoop.”

When you whirled around to glare at him, he was gone. But you still felt as though someone was watching you the entire walk home. Sarah was seated by the fire when you blew in through the front door looking like a cat dragged out of hell.

“My god, what happened to you?” she exclaimed.

“Nothing, except some outlaw following me around like a bad omen. What’s that all about, huh?”

“An outlaw? You don’t mean the masked man, right?” She stood to make you a plate with the food still warming on the stove and you gratefully accepted it.

“Does he frequent these parts?”

The older woman chuckled. “Yes, but no need to worry. Don’t say anything to Jim, but that man has done more for this town than a lot of the so-called sheriffs who controlled the town before we moved here. This town used to be a lot worse. I was scared everyday when the kids were out of my sight.”

You settled in at the small wooden table and spooned some of the stew onto your spoon. “What do you mean by worse?”

Her eyes darted towards Jim Jr.’s sleeping form by the fire and sat across from you. “Like they were keeping girls captive at the saloon. Shootouts nearly everyday. The mortician could barely keep up. Gambling, embezzling, you name it, we had it. Gotham still has its problems, but Jim’s job is a lot easier with this outlaw out there.”

You blinked down at the bowl in front of you and considered her words. That man was known for his ability to take down criminals, and you called him a nincompoop.

Well, the west certainly was different from what you were used to.

The day of the picnic found you seated with the Gordon’s in their pew. You didn’t pay a lick of attention to the sermon and instead found yourself sending warning glares to the gaggle of Wayne’s who kept turning around to make faces at their friends. Good heavens, Mr. Wayne must be exhausted keeping up with all those kids. Well, his butler must be. You figured Wayne was too busy being a rich man to take care of all those kids, adopted or not.

The picnic went off without a hitch. You balanced helping serve food from the potluck the ladies of the town so graciously helped with and wrangling kids to make sure they didn’t scuff up their clothes or knees. You loved this job. It was only two weeks in, but you knew it to be true. You loved this job, these kids, this town, and the town welcomed you with open arms. The mothers adored the way you were eager to help while also making sure the kids behaved. The fathers loved hearing your tales of home back east, peppering you with questions about how the cities were booming with the fruits of the Industrial Revolution.

“You plan on going back at all?” one of the mothers asked. She loaded your plate up with cornbread and greens and you gratefully took it from her with a smile. Your gaze moved to track the movements of the kids playing with a rugged, ratty old soccer ball.

“After this year, who knows? I like teaching and if I go back east, I’ll have to get married and he certainly won’t let me be a teacher. If that’s the case, maybe I should just be a spinster.”

Before she could ask another question, a throat clearing caught both of your attention. Bruce Wayne offered you a tight smile and nodded to you both in greeting.

“I just wanted to commend you on an excellent event,” he said. You smiled politely in response and waited for him to say something else. The two of you stared at each other for a bit until he cleared his throat once more, said a farewell, and walked back over to his children where Dick Grayson appeared to be nearly choking on his laughter.

That night, with all the excitement over and done with, you finally felt like you were settled here. You finally felt as if you could breathe. Sarah and James sat by the fire and you excused yourself to step outside, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders to ward off the chill. You wanted to just take a moment to breathe in the fresh air and listen to the world around you. 

That was the biggest difference between here and home. In the city, there was a constant stream of noise, whether it was wagons rolling over the uneven brick roads or the shouts of laborers and drunken men walking through the streets. Out here, sometimes the only thing you could hear was the chirping of crickets and cicadas, the occasional howl of coyotes, and the wind.

It was starting to get a bit colder from the blazing summer heat and you tightened the blanket around your shoulders. Sarah said it was only a matter of time before a blizzard swept over the plains and blanketed everything in snow. She took you to the mercantile to purchase some warmer clothes and also some yarn so you had a chance to knit some more socks and mittens. You weren’t a stranger to cold weather by any means, but Sarah said it could be both beautiful and dangerous if you got caught in it with no shelter nearby.

In the distance, a horse huffed and stamped its hooves. You looked in its direction and saw him slowly walking across the land. By him, you meant your outlaw. You hated that your mind instinctively called him “yours” because there was nothing about him that you could claim. 

Despite the fact you weren’t making any noise, his head turned towards you. What a sight you must be in your day-worn dress, no shoes, and no hat. You didn’t care about impropriety at that moment. Who would gossip? It was just you and him.

The outlaw reached up and tipped his hat. You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your lips.

Your eyes fixed on the stars above and when you looked back, he was gone.

The first blizzard held off just in time for Christmas. On one hand, the kids were safely at home with their families when the wind first picked up. On the other hand, Jim was stuck in town and Sarah had injured her ankle the week beforehand. So that meant morning chores fell to you.

“Keep a hand on the rope at all times,” Sarah repeated for the thirtieth time. You nodded as you wound a fourth scarf around your head and checked to make sure your mittens were snugly on. All you needed to do was follow the clothesline rope to the stables and barn, put out feed and hay, check to make sure the troughs hadn’t frozen over, and get back before you lost feeling in your fingers. The mercury in the thermometer said that it was below freezing out there and snow kept falling.

“If you don’t come back in thirty minutes, I’ll come for you,” she said as you moved to the door.

“No.” You glanced back at the kids behind her. “It won’t do them any good if both of us get trapped out there. I’ll be fine.”

And you were. The walk to the stables took maybe two minutes on a good day, but you were pushing eight minutes by the time you made it across. Snow whipped across your face and stung your eyes but you pushed through. Your skirts were getting wet and heavy by the time you stepped into the wooden structure and you were grateful for the reprieve from the elements. The animals greeted you with various cries as you made the way around their stalls, depositing food and a few snuggles as you went. There were enough eggs in the larder that Sarah told you not to bother collecting them. 

Now came the return trip.

The snow seemed higher in just a few minutes, which was impossible, but your boots sank into the thick drifts and made it difficult to walk. Your skirts were dragging you down and at one point, you stumbled an-

Your hand slipped.

You blindly felt for the rope above your head and tried to quell the panic that rose in your chest. Each turn of your head was met with blustery gusts of wind and snow that veiled your sight with white and disoriented you. This was what Sarah was worried about. Getting caught in a blizzard can get you killed and they wouldn’t be able to find your body until the snow melted. Oh Christ, how would they tell your parents? A telegram? A letter? Or would someone ride with your body back home and tell them in person?

Something sturdy crashed into you and you stumbled into the snow but was quickly righted. You gasped as arms encircled your waist and hauled you up against a body. Your face pressed against a thick, black wool scarf that moved when the owner spoke.

“We gotta get you inside!” the outlaw shouted over the wind. You let out a startled, breathless laugh, and clung to him as he pushed his way through the snow. It was as if he were superhuman, the way he led you without fail directly to the Gordon household. He slammed his fist three times on the door and Sarah opened it, her mouth parting in surprise at the sight that met her. You were a sight, you bet, clinging onto your outlaw and soaked to the bone.

“Get her out of these things and get her warmed up,” he ordered. Sarah stuttered something out and ushered you quickly in. You hesitated though and looked back at the outlaw.

“Shouldn’t you be inside?” you asked. He was bundled up in as many layers as you were, but he wasn’t flinching from the cold like you were. He merely tipped his head towards you, turned around, and headed back into the blizzard. Sarah shut the door behind him to keep the snow and wind out and then focused her fretting over you.

“How did he even know I was out there? I couldn't see hide nor hair!”

“Came by the house to see if we needed anything, saw you were missing, demanded to know where the hell you went, and was back out the door before I finished speaking,” she explained. She unwound the various scarves off of your head and you blinked at the sudden wash of light over your eyes. “He comes by every blizzard to check on folks, but by golly, he moved out of here like a bat out of hell.”

He saved your life, you told yourself, but you didn’t want to say it aloud and give her a heart attack. Was there anyone out there waiting for him? Who was looking out for him?

As your frozen fingers began to warm up, you considered the empty expanse of your skin. You hadn’t even told him thank you.

The blizzard quieted down two days later and you thought you would never be so grateful to see the flat expanse of land that was the prairie. Getting to the stables and back was much easier now and you didn’t mind doing the chores now that there wasn’t a threat of death looming over your head.

However, snow still piled in drifts around the ground, causing school to be canceled for a few days. You sent along the message with Jim when he came by after the storm died down. That meant you were settled in by the fire with the two Gordon kids instead of trying to trudge through waist high snow to teach an empty classroom. Barbara leaned her head against your lap as you read Lewis Carroll aloud. Jim Jr. pretended to not listen as he played with some toy soldiers, but you saw him perk up a few times as the story progressed.

Your voice faltered as the sound of jingle bells filled the air. Sarah looked up from her sewing and shot you a confused look but you shrugged in response. The bells stopped and she got up just in time for a polite knock to sound on the door. Sarah opened the door to reveal Bruce Wayne himself standing there.

“Apologies for the intrusion,” he said in greeting. “But I figured I should make the rounds before another storm picks up.”

“Ah.” Sarah welcomed him in and you folded the corner of your page before setting the book down. Barbara huffed a little at your reading being disturbed but you ruffled her auburn curls and grinned. Mr. Wayne must have noticed her dissatisfaction as well because he looked back at the wagon behind him and whistled. A head of dark hair popped out from the wagon bed and Dick Grayson practically launched himself over the wood to get to his best friend.

“Mr. Wayne is kind enough to give each household a sack of flour and some shoes for Christmas,” Sarah explained. “It really eases the strain off of a lot of families in town. I’ve told him a million times that he doesn’t need to do it for us, but he insists.”

“Would you like some coffee and a cookie?” you asked. You didn’t even wait for his answer before you were moving to the kitchen to pour a cup for him. Mr. Wayne had been nothing but polite to you since you came to town, and you loved teaching his rambunctious kids, but you could tell that he was attempting to court you and you were having none of it. If you wanted to be a housewife and nothing more, you could go back home. Marrying the richest man in Gotham, maybe even the richest man in the state, would lock you in that gilded cage far too soon.

“Thank you.” He gratefully accepted the coffee and passed the cookie to Dick who promptly broke it in two, passed half to Barbara, and continued chatting with her like it was nothing. You hid your smile behind your hand at his kindness. Teen boys typically clammed up if you mentioned their manners and you knew from experience that he could be just as much of a hellion as his little brothers when he wanted to be.

“I actually have a gift for you as well,” Mr. Wayne said. You blanched as he extended a slim box in your direction and he saw the hesitation on your face. “It’s from the town council as an appreciation for your excellent teaching.”

Okay, that made it slightly better. You carefully accepted the box and opened it to reveal a lovely hat pin. It was simple but perfect for you. The slim black pearls would go well with most of your hats and you loved the way it reminded you of…

Well, it wouldn’t be well to dwell on him right now.

“Thank you. I love it,” you said quietly. He nodded in return and then checked his watchpiece.

“Dick, we have to head out. You’ll see Barbara and your teacher in a few days.” The teen sighed but complied without argument, something you figured was a feat considering he loved to argue with you on everything in the classroom. He was smart, quick-witted, and a pain in the ass sometimes, but he was also a great help with the younger kids. You relied on him and Barbara to help the others stay on top of their lessons, and he was great at tutoring.

“I have some books coming from home on the next mail train,” you told Dick as he started to head out. “I’ll let you two have the first look at the new science catalogs.”

He thanked you with a beaming smile and dashed out to climb back onto the wagon bed. With a polite nod in your direction once more, Mr. Wayne followed. You waited until their wagon pulled away before you closed the door and then leaned against it, a heavy sigh escaping you. Sarah snickered and you shot her a half-hearted glare.

“Jim didn’t tell me anything about the council pitching in for a gift,” she whispered when you joined her next to the stove. You nudged her ankle, the one not recently injured, and huffed out another sigh. At least he saved face by not admitting that it was, essentially, a courting gift. You opened the box once more and examined it. It was rather pretty, you thought.

Blasted man.

You returned to school once the snow started to melt. You were half a month into the new year and teaching the children about the proper usage of a participle phrase when you first heard the hooves. It was a common thing to hear horses and wagons riding by the school so you thought nothing of it until the horse stopped in front of the school and heavy footsteps sounded up the clapboard stairs. The door had a bit of a lean to it thanks to the crooked hinges and it scraped along the floor as it opened. You inhaled deeply and turned around to come face to face with a bandit.

This man wasn’t like your outlaw. No, he was something a lot more dangerous. A scruffy bandana hung around his neck, revealing his dirty and sun-leathered skin. His spurs clicked as he walked down the aisle between the desks, creating an ominous thudclick thudclick that sounded oddly like your heart.

“Now, this ain’t personal, miss teach,” he said in a soft, quiet voice that was so unlike the air of fear that dripped off of him. “I’m just hurting for some money and rumor has it, you got rich parents back east.”

Your eyes darted to the six-shooter on his hip and then back up to those dark eyes of his. The kids could run, but that would mean risking one or more of them getting injured. Bandits operate usually with a partner so even if the kids did get out, there was probably another armed man outside.

“If I go with you, you won’t hurt them?”

“That’s right. You and I will take a little trip to a nice cabin where we’ll wait until your parents pay the ransom.”

“I live with the sheriff. Surely he’ll notice me missing.”

The bandit grinned, a crooked and fearsome thing, and shrugged. “There’s a mighty big fight at the saloon right now. He might be late getting home.”

You accepted your fate then and there. “May I grab my hat?”

His smile quickly turned to a scowl. “Hurry up.”

Rushing around your desk, you grabbed your bonnet and hair pin, easily sliding them both into place before he grabbed your arm and dragged you towards the door.

“Now, kids,” the bandit addressed the children. “If you want your teacher to live, you’re going to wait until the little hand points at the six.” He gestured to the grandfather clock behind your desk. “Before you go and tell your mommy and daddy. If not, you’ll never see your teacher again. Can we do that?”

“They’re kids,” you spat. He chuckled and disregarded your concern, instead forcing you out to where two horses stood before the stairs. One man sat on the chestnut gelding, a shotgun resting over his lap, while the bandit hauled you up and onto the horse. As he settled himself behind you on the saddle, the first man leaned over with a strip of fabric in his hands.

“My ‘pologies, ma’am,” he said. “It’s for your safety, after all.”

You knew better than to argue as he stuffed some of the dirty fabric into your mouth and tied it around your head. Next, they tied your hands together with rope and you also knew better than to try and jump off a galloping horse with both hands tied.

The two men kicked the horses into a start and headed for the empty plains outside of the town. The air was dropping temperature and quickly, a sign that you knew meant an incoming blizzard now that you experienced one. Would the kids get home safely in time? Even if they didn’t, you knew the townsfolk wouldn’t let them freeze in the schoolhouse. Despite your best efforts, tears built in your eyes and dripped silently down your cheeks as they carried you further from the place you had started to consider as home.

The wind was starting to pick up when the horses slowed. A dilapidated old cabin sat abandoned, half shadowed by a craggy outcropping of rock. Its roof was caving in and you knew that, if a blizzard struck while you were here, you would truly freeze to death this time.

“Easy does it, miss. We mean no disrespect.” The man behind you helped steady you as the second man lowered you to the ground. You saw no need to fight considering you would get lost in the desert and either die of dehydration or freeze.

Wonderful.

But you had another plan in mind.

The man shoved you to sit in a chair that wobbled when you moved on it. He removed the gag now that there was no worry about you screaming and alerting anyone. He muttered something under his breath as he extracted a cigar from his pocket and lit it, sucking in the smoke with a heavy breath.

“Frankly, I thought this was a stupid idea,” he explained to you. “But Theodore seems to think you’ve got some money and frankly, we’d be much obliged. We’re trying to get to San Francisco and get us some gold.”

“There’s no more gold,” you muttered. “So you’re sore out of luck.” Your gaze darted around the dark little cabin in search of…there.

“What’d you just say?”

“I said there isn’t any more gold in California. Surely you’ve heard.”

He mulled over your words for a moment and then headed back outside, hollering something about “did you know there ain’t no gold in California?” Now was your chance.

You leaned forward and grabbed the shattered shard of glass from what you assumed was a mirror. Adjusting your grip, you hissed as it nicked your thumb. Blood trickled down your skin but you couldn’t worry about that right now. You used the glass to saw the ropes that bound your wrist and nearly wept in joy when it gave way. Reaching up, you grabbed the pin out of your hat and examined it for a moment. It truly was beautiful.

It’s a shame you were going to have to break it.

“Fellas? I think there’s a snake in here,” you called as you moved to stand by the door. You waited with bated breath for the door to open, the man’s hand curling around the wood and giving you a perfect chance to jam the hat pin directly into the top of his hand.

A howl of pain erupted from him and you dashed forward to grab the pistol from his holster. He lunged for you and you ducked under his arms, scrambling further into the small cabin and fumbling with the gun. You had shot only a couple times with your father, but you hoped the knowledge was still somewhere in your mind.

You cursed under your breath as you tried to get the hammer into place. The man was getting back to his feet and his buddy appeared in the doorway, his eyes widening at the sight of you holding a gun. He reached for his own when he was suddenly bowled over by a flash of black. A startled shriek escaped the man and you would have laughed if the situation was humorous at all.

But when a two hundred pound man with a hat pin is the only thing blocking you from the door and the horses and safety, there’s little to laugh about. A shot fired somewhere outside and you instinctively ducked, giving the man a chance to rush at you. You made a valiant effort at jumping over the broken wooden table, but the legs gave way and you tumbled to the ground. He hauled you up, yanking the pistol out of your hand, and dragged you outside where his buddy was currently getting his face beat in by-

“I’ll kill her!” The cold barrel of the gun pressed against your temple and a strong hand kept you firmly in place. Your outlaw stood, his blue eyes narrowing as he took in the sight before him. You looked to his hip.

No gun.

Well, how the hell does someone have a gun battle with no gun?

His gaze darted to the man’s right hand, his dominant hand that held the offending weapon, and you realized what he was piecing together. The same hand you had shoved a metal rod through minutes earlier. Which meant it was weak.

 With a shaky hand, you extended three fingers. Your outlaw raised a brow and you let your eye twitch. Now was not the time for his attitude. Two fingers. He dipped his chin in an almost imperceptible nod. One finger. His feet shifted, his stance widening, and you clasped your fist shut and promptly went limp in the bandit’s arm.

He was so surprised by your sudden weight that he stumbled and dropped the gun. Your outlaw barreled forward, kicking the gun far away, and slammed into the bandit. You fell with them and went rolling along the ground, but by the time you were able to pick yourself up, both bandits were unconscious and bleeding in the dirt. Your legs shook as you finally got them under yourself and started to stand, but a hand grabbed your shoulder and stopped you from rising. Unlike the bandits, this touch was firm but warm. You met his steely blue eyes and swallowed against the sudden dryness in your throat.

“Your hurt,” he said quietly. He brushed his hand against the blood on your hand and you let out a breathy laugh.

“I accidentally did that. I was trying to use the mirror and…it’s not important.” His hand enclosed around yours, silencing the words from your mouth.

“You’re shivering.” He looked at the gathering clouds and cursed quietly. “We need to get you somewhere safe.”

“What about them?”

He didn’t pay the men any mind. “Sheriff Gordon knows where they are. I just got here first.” His hand moved to enclose around your bicep and he gently led you to his horse. “A blizzard is on its way and you need to be checked by Dr. Quinn.”

“What about you?”

Your question made him pause and he fixed his gaze on you. “What do you mean by mean?”

Despite the cold air, heat flushed to your face and you shrugged. “You could be hurt too. And you shouldn’t be in the blizzard, either. You deserve to be safe, too.”

He considered you for a moment and then his gaze softened, his hand coming up to touch your chin. “I’ll be fine.” With that, he bent down to help you onto his horse. Unlike your earlier ride, this was a lot more comfortable. He grabbed a blanket out of his saddle pack and then climbed onto the saddle. Your outlaw wrapped it around you and then grabbed the reins to direct his horse towards town.

You were too late, though. The snow started to fall only a few minutes into the ride. With no coat, hat, or layers, you were quickly growing cold. You tried to stop your hands from shaking but the tremors rose into your arms and jaw, creating an audible rattle that caught his attention. Your outlaw raised his hand and pressed your head under his chin to get you closer to him before he raised the edge of the blanket to cover you. He then wrapped his arm around your waist and encouraged you to get as close as possible, but it still wasn’t enough.

“There’s a cabin about a mile away,” he shouted over the wind. “A family that stays in town during the winter. We can stop there.”

You nodded, the cold making your brain feel a little numb. He shook you gently and pressed his lips against the shell of your ear. “Hey, stay with me. Keep your eyes open for me.”

“‘M sorry,” you slurred. “It’s cold.”

“I know. Just a little bit to go.”

You were barely aware of him pulling the horse to a stop and helping you down. All you could recall was the sudden warmth that bloomed from the fire as he tossed wood in. Your outlaw had laid you on the small threadbare rug by the fire and settled a few blankets over you. He crouched next to you and explained that he would put the horse in the stable and be back but to not, under any circumstance, fall asleep.

Stay awake. You can do that.

Or was this all a dream? It had to be. The whole day seemed unreal. Kidnapping, ransom, almost escaping, and then your outlaw showing up. It had to be a dream. But the rough wool under your cheek and the softness of the fur felt very, very real.

“Alright, up you get,” your outlaw said once he came back inside. He brushed the snow off of himself and kneeled down next to you to help you up. You leaned against the wood frame of the bed and glanced up through your lashes to study what little of his face you could see. He gently took your hand out from under the blanket and searched for any sign of frostbite. When he got to the small cut on your thumb, he left and returned with a small bucket of snow. Letting it melt by the fire for a bit, he used it to wash away the blood before he tied a small rag around your thumb to slow the bleeding.

“It can’t be too comfortable with that bandana on,” you said, voice soft and careful. His touch stilled at your wrist and you cursed yourself for being too forward. You turned your face away from his. “I’m sorry, forget I said that.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his hand raise and you inhaled sharply as you realized what he was doing. The bandana fell away and you blinked away any remnants of this dream. You had half a mind to pinch yourself to double check.

“I…I’m sorry I lost that hat pin you gave me,” you blurted out. A smile widened on his handsome face and you were struck by how real the smile looked compared to the tight, perfunctory grins he gave the townspeople.

“I think I can buy you a new one,” Bruce Wayne replied. He removed his hat as well and you took in his face as though he was a well and you were dying of thirst. You had seen him plenty of times, but you saw him as Bruce or as your outlaw. Now they were both one in the same and it made your head spin a little. You reached out and then hesitated, but he nodded to encourage you. You brushed your hand along his jaw and then cupped his cheek, studying the tiny scars you could now make out against his skin.

“Why?”

He was expecting that question, you could tell. He let out a long breath and then explained it all. How his parents died in a wagon robbery, how the sheriffs in Gotham were so corrupt they did nothing to catch the men who did it. How he lived this double life while adopting orphans who stumbled into Gotham from various backgrounds. You listened intently. There was no judgment held against him. From what you had gathered from Sarah and others in the town, the vigilante was feared by criminals and welcomed by the townspeople. Gotham’s crime cleared up after two years of him patrolling the prairie and enforcing the laws in the saloon when the sheriff couldn’t.

“And why me?” The question poured out of you before you could stop it. His lips curled into one of those genuine smiles again.

“Only three people can wrangle my kids. Alfred, me, and you.”

“So that’s why you courted me?”

His lips pressed against your palm and you softened, your body becoming pliant as warmth, both literal and figurative, buzzed through your veins.

“No, that’s just what made me know it was the right decision.”

“Can we expect you back next year?” one of the mother’s asked as she filled a plate for another person. It was the end of school year picnic and you welcomed the chance to take a break from wrangling forty children everyday.

“I hope so,” you replied evenly. “I don’t have any plans of leaving.”

“We’d really love to keep you on,” she continued. “I know you said before that-”

“Jason Peter! Richard John!” You set the plate down and planted your hands on your hips. The two boys spun around with innocent smiles plastered on their faces. Damian and Duke wobbled dangerously on their shoulders and you leveled the boys with a glare that could melt ice.

“Do not drop your brothers,” you ordered. The older boys both nodded in unison before dashing off, the two littlest Wayne’s bouncing on their shoulders the entire way. You pressed a hand to your heart just as a little head of dark hair pressed against your waist. Curling an arm around Cassandra’s shoulders, you hugged her close to your side.

“Having fun?” you asked. She nodded but kept close, her nimble fingers playing with the ties of your apron. You smoothed a hand over her head and leaned down to kiss her hair.

“Nice try,” you whispered. “What is Tim and Steph getting into?”

She merely grinned and slipped away to follow her brothers. You apologized to the other ladies and headed into the school, somehow sure that the source of chaos had to be in here. But the schoolhouse was empty, aside from your books scattered on the desk. You took a moment to take in the room with a heavy heart. Gathering up your books, you stacked them up and left them on the desk. Maybe the next teacher would need it.

Two strong arms wrapped around your waist and you sagged back against your husband’s chest. Bruce pressed a kiss to your temple and frowned when he saw your face.

“Do you need the kids to carry these?”

“No, I figured the next teacher could use them.” He leaned back to see your face fully, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“Are you quitting?”

“I’m married, Bruce. For such a brilliant man, you do have your moments.”

He let out a huff of laughter and shook his head. “We have Alfred to take care of the house, dear. You can teach if you want to.”

“And Alfred’s okay with that?”

“I think we will have to physically pry him from the kitchen when it’s time for him to retire.”

A brilliant grin spread across your lips and you turned fully in his arms so you could fling your arms around his neck. “Oh, thank you! Thank you thank you thank you!”

Your husband, your outlaw, laughed and accepted your kiss with no argument. “Come along, Mrs. Wayne. It’ll be here next fall.”

You didn’t expect to stay in the west longer than a year. You didn’t expect to end up married with a gaggle of adopted children. You really didn’t expect to marry the richest man in town who moonlighted as a vigilante who didn’t carry a gun.

Well, Mama wasn’t lying when she said the West was entirely different from the life you grew up thinking you would live. You didn’t seem to mind.

[sapphirelightningbug]

Love, Actually [Chapter 2: O Christmas Tree]

Series Summary: Christmas 2005, you and Aegon meet in a dog park in your hometown of Newark, New Jersey. He’s a strange foreigner who you’re hesitant about at first but he’s enamored by you. The only thing that can help you two is a Christmas miracle, and maybe a New Years kiss.

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The Lowe’s parking lot is vacant when you pull in—well, almost. At 8 a.m. on a Sunday, there were three other vehicles in the lot: a gunmetal grey Dodge Ram pickup sitting three spots down, a red Nissan Altima next to it, and an ugly, dilapidated Toyota Camry across the lot. The air is crisp and the once lush scenery, now contained only leafless trees, all that remained the skeletons of an erst spring.

You hop down from your truck a magnificent, red 1999 Jeep Grand Cherokee. Reminiscing, it was the first nice car you’d had. In the past, you'd solely had used vehicles—a silver Honda Civic and a Nissan Frontier—but this one was fresh off the lot and is still in pristine condition. It was your baby; constant upkeep and baths every weekend, well when there wasn’t a consistent fall of sleet.

The ground was jagged underneath your feet. You run your hands over the slick outer shell of your lavender puffer jacket, rolling your fuzzy black gloves off your hands. Curdling them into a ball and shoving them aimlessly into your pockets.

The days-long blizzard had finally diminished the evening before, leaving the roads unburdened by snow in the morning. You reach the sidewalk opposite the parking lot and embark into Lowe’s. The fluorescent lighting beaming off the ceiling is overtly obnoxious, an unabridged contrast to the soft, cool light of the outside air.

The scent of wood and metal floods your senses as you head for the Christmas section. There were a few finishing embellishments you needed to do for your apartment’s decoration.

Passing the aisles of hardware, you step into the holiday décor section, some eerie-looking animatronics playing Christmas music. You hum to the melody as you head over to the statues searching for a snowman to put outside your house. You find one you’re keen on and look it over. It’s a classic snowman, made out of what looked like polyresin. The snowman had on a top hat with a plaid stripe, two stick arms, button eyes, and a fabric carrot nose.

“Hey stranger,” you jump slightly, hearing the satin smooth voice, and spin on your heels to see who it is. You’re met by the face of the same blonde man from the day prior. Aegon. A small thrill runs up your spine. My silent prayers have been answered, the universe really does love me, you surmise.

“Oh gosh, fancy meeting you here,” your heart stutters, his smile was ever-present. He had a dolly, its rusted metal squeaked as it stirred. He raised his eyebrows as if to ask why you were here. “Oh I’m just getting the final decorations for outside my apartment,” you smile, “What about you?” You gesture to the dolly he had.

“Trying to pick out a Christmas tree my flats pretty bare,” he rubs the back of his neck as if embarrassed. It's honestly kind of adorable, you brush the thought out of your mind.

“I can help you pick out a tree if you’d like. I happen to be quite the interior designer,” you cringe at the words that throng out of your mouth.

“That’d be great, I kinda suck at it,” he snorts and you chuckle along with him. You inspect him, today he didn't have a hat his disheveled fringe sat in a thatch on his head. He had a windbreaker on, sleeves bushed up haphazardly. There was a gold watch on his wrist, it was classic the hands a gleaming amber hue.

You two wander over to the Christmas trees. “See any of them you like?” You watch him as he looks over the different trees, a big tall fluffy one catches your eye, wonder filling them. “What about this one?” You look it over with him brushing the artificial needles.

“It’s… pretty," his voice was hesitant, the tone less burnished than usual.

“Oh my gosh, you hate it!” Your tone is almost playful with an undertone of alarm.

He chuckled, “No, I don’t hate it,” there was a small smirk on his face.

“Then what's wrong with it it’s like the perfect Christmas tree.” It profoundly was, it was nostalgic and had an aura of childhood around the large downy branches.

“It’s just a little too big for me to put up myself and I don't have a roommate or anything so I was looking for something maybe a little smaller.” He didn't have a roommate. He didn't have a roommate. A swell of elation filled your stomach.

“Oh. I could help you I'm free today it's my day off and I'm not busy," you commented nonchalantly attempting not to appear excited.

“If you don't mind," his tone was sanguine. A small optimistic smile on his face. He wasn't great with chicks, sure he could get into their pants, but having fortune with a woman he actually likes? He should be so lucky.

“I don't," His eyes light up and his satiny voice speaks up once again.

“Then it's a plan.” You both prop the box on the dolly before he rolls it to the checkout. On the way, you nab the snowman you had liked before and get in line behind him.

You disassociate as he checks out, involuntarily staring at him, he grins at the cashier being polite as she helps him scan the parcel. His eyes light up slightly when he looks at you and realizes you are paying attention to him.

He has a scar under his eye that you notice for the first time as his cheeks turn up when he smirks. He has a ring on his pinky finger that has a little dragon carved into it. You get lost staring at him as all these details flood your brain.

“Ma’am?” The cashier calls and Aegon places a hand on your shoulder. You startle as you realize you are staring and crimson tinges your face.

“You okay?” You nod and plod toward the cash register, embarrassment conspicuous on your face. You get the box scanned and pay for it before you both go to load the boxes into your respective cars.

Oh gosh. Of course, his car was the putrid Toyota Camry. You snicker to yourself before climbing up into your car. You lean against your wheel for a few moments watching Aegon across the lot. You tap your fingers against the wheel before starting the car and sanctioning Aegon to escort you to his apartment.

The roads of New Jersey suck. Both cars swerve out of the way of potholes about every twenty feet. Trees and bushes are overgrown on the bystreet and Aegon drives slightly erratically. It matches his personality, honestly, he was still a mystery to you. You didn't know a great deal about him other than his dog and you realize he doesn't know much about you either.

When you two arrive at his apartment building you succor him in getting the box up the stairs. The door was green and had the number 305 on it, he unlocked it with a silver key, and as soon as he opened the door loud whines were audible.

As you stood next to the box Sunfyre jumped onto Aegon like he was a family member lost to war. “Hey buddy!” he rubbed the dog's sides and back as his paws bashed into Aegon's shoulder. Sunfyre’s tongue darted out to lick Aegon's face, he attempted to pull away but all was futile against the golden retriever.

After he assaulted Aegon, Sunfyre went to you, sniffing your hand before licking it. Clearly, he’d remembered you. “Oh hi bud,” your voice inch as you spoke to the dog. Sunfyre's honey blonde tresses were neatly groomed having undoubtedly been brushed through just that morning.

Aegon commanded Sunfyre to lie down before you labored together to get the crate through the door and into the living room. You look around the apartment. It was unvarnished, to say it politely. Natural light flooded through a single uncovered window. The living room was cavernous: extensively unfurnished with only a loveseat and a coffee table stationary in the middle. A TV perched on a stand opposite the small couch. There was a draft in the room though you couldn't tell from where it was coming.

Other than the living room there was a small sepia-colored photo that sat in the kitchen you caught a glimpse of a young light-haired girl and three young light-haired boys. There was a bowl supposedly for fruit that sat empty next to the frame. A few mostly empty bottles of whiskey sat in a glass cabinet. You inch yourself into the kitchen at a slow pace.

The countertops were thinly veiled with dust. There was a dental office card left on the fridge, and a few scattered sticky notes were stuck to it. The notes had neat feminine handwriting on them. Did he have a girlfriend? A fiancé? A wife?! You glimpse a few words on the note your irrational thoughts running wild. 'Call Mom' written among them.

You feel a hand on your shoulder, his thumb was on the backside of it and you could almost feel his breath on the back of your neck. You turn to look at him with raised eyebrows. "You okay?" He queries that sly smirk still ever-present on his face. You nod and sauntered past him, his head falls to look at the ground as you make your way out of the threshold of the kitchen and into the living room.

"Would you want something to drink? Water? Hot cocoa? I do owe you," he spins the ring around his pinky as he inquires. You look up at the cream-colored walls as you respond.

"Hot cocoa, hm? Well, I might just have to take you up on it," you crack a smile. The same beverage he left the shop with yesterday he was now standing over the stovetop making. He flicked a light on in the kitchen illuminating the house further. The amber luminescence from the ceiling cast shadows on his face, you look over the curve of his nose, the fullness of his cheeks, and the gentle swoop of his platinum eyelashes.

You watch as he makes the hot chocolate, he has a formula to it as if he'd done it a million times before. "You've got skills," you lean back on the counter hands pressed against the top as you peered at him.

"It's a comfort thing, I think that's what my shrink called it?" He laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. He did that often from what you could tell, laugh at uncomfortable or sad sentiments.

"What do you mean?" You lean forward to listen closer eyeing his chapped lips as he spoke. He grabbed each ingredient from their respective places, before igniting the stovetop and pouring the milk sugar and cocoa powder into the saucepan.

"I used to make it for my brothers and sisters when we were kids, so I think she said it's a coping mechanism or something now," he still had a grin on his face only now was it slightly saddened as his eyes flicked to the left as if he were remembering something long since past. He meticulously stirred the sugar and cocoa powder into the milk in the saucepan.

"I'm sorry," you whisper from beside him. He shakes his head, feeling shame. You push off the counter and step only a bit closer to him. "I don't pity you," he looks at you with a hardened expression. "How could I? I barely know you we met yesterday," he snickered down at the stove. It was a sad laugh one that pulled at your heartstrings.

"You make a fair point," he voices. He runs a hand through his bright fringe and up onto his head. You look at the clock: ten thirty-four. Your eyes widened, had it been that long since you'd arrived at Lowe's earlier that morning? Aegon pours the hot chocolate into two different cups; one was tan and green with speckles of black interspersed upon it and one with a small penguin painted on it, a red and green scarf wrapped around its neck. The latter was almost childish but it was nostalgic, homely.

He walked over to the fridge and swung it open. You peer in and don't see much. A Tupperware container sat in the right corner, and a few condiments were on the door. There's a pint of milk positioned on the second shelf next to some coffee creamer and eggs. He emerged from the fridge with a small bottle of what looked like alcohol in his hand. He proceeds to a cabinet and pulls out an unopened box of candy canes, plucks two out, and rests them on the counter.

Aegon shakes the small bottle in his hand, "Want some? It's peppermint flavored," the corner of his mouth quirks down in a half-smile. You notice a small 32% alc/vol at the bottom and cringed.

"It's also 10:30 in the morning."

"More for me then," he uncorks the top with his teeth and pours the contents of the bottle into the cup with the penguin. The irony of the image was almost sweet. At the same time though, a small pang of sadness hit your stomach. Day drinking at 10 a.m.? Someone had hurt this man, and badly. Maybe it was a parent? Or a girl? Your brain goes to one of the most unseemly places. Why would it even matter, he was cute but you didn't know him.

He plopped the candy canes in each cup respectively and handed the green and tan one to you, the curve of the candy cane hanging off the lip of the cup. "Thank you," you take a sip your soft lips taking in the drink, a hum of satisfaction leaving your mouth. You take the cup down from your lips and for the first time spot a record machine next to where Sunfyre was sat.

"How about we brighten the mood?" Your voice sounds almost romantic as you say it. His eyes fell amorous, which was strangely appealing. When you recognize the thought, you immediately rebuff it. You approach the machine in the corner and turn to him. "Do you have any records for this thing?"

"A couple," he gestures to a crate underneath the side table. You reach it and Aegon veers his side against a counter as he watches you. You kneel and look through the sparse number of records he had. You spot some Billy Joel and a band with a German-sounding name before coming across the one.

"Oh, we are listening to this," You pull out A Charlie Brown Christmas and sit it atop the negligible table.

He chuckles, "Oh yes, my sister got that for me as a gag gift."

"What's her name?" You wanted to know more about him, about his family. You shift to put the red vinyl on the platter of the record machine, setting the needle to stir on the grooves and the music begins to play. For a gag gift, it was sweet.

"Helaena she's a year younger than me," he smiles recalling his tenderhearted sister. She'd always been there for him.

“Well she sounds lovely,” you muse before turning to him with a playful grin on your face. He returned the expression, “You ready to get this party started?” You chuckle.

“Has anyone ever told you that you talk like an elementary school teacher?” He chuckles and you feign being offended. A hand on your chest as you gasp and grin playfully.

“Well, I didn’t think it was that obvious but thanks,” his eyes widen, obviously nonplussed.

“Oh like you actually are?” You nod a small smirk on your lips. “Well that makes sense then,” he was almost coy. He invariably had a kind of self-satisfaction to him too. It made him appear like he could never feel anything but haughty. Maybe it was uncertainty? Or a method to conceal it? He did sometimes have the look of a lost puppy, subdued and feeble.

"Come on now," you adjure, grasping his hand and pulling him to the Christmas tree box, a bit of hot chocolate spilled over the rim. With a quick prise, you remove the tape from the box and open it. Artificial pine needles burst into the air, escaping from their smothering incarceration. You begin plucking out the pieces one by one, the cutting fluff unpleasant against your velvety hand. A wisp of the green spikes runs down your arm.

Aegon takes a slurp of his hot cocoa semi-chapped lips pursing as he swallows, the warm liquid flooding and heating his body. You begin assembling the tree asking for his assistance with the top portion. “Oh isn't this just so cute!” You exclaim a big grin on your face. “This time of year is the best,” he chuckles at your delight.

You begin to fluff up the branches on the tree, languidly dispersing them so they can fill the empty spaces and gaps. “So… do you have any ornaments or garland, lights, a topper? Anything like that?” Sunfyre gazes up at you from where he sits tongue hanging out of his mouth.

He nods, “One second,” he swivels around, his back facing you, and positions his hot chocolate on the counter as he walks away. You seize your beverage and take small sips from it while he's out of the room. You scratch the backside of Sunfyre's ear, he grumbled lowly, contented.

When Aegon reappears he has an average-sized brown box in his hands. He opens it to reveal some lights, a few ornaments, and a gold seven-pointed star topper. You reach out to grab the star, “Wow this is magnificent where did you get it from?”

“It was my mother's but she wanted me to have it so I didn't stray from the faith or whatever,” his eyebrows pinched as he mentioned his mother they must've had a strained relationship.

“Okay well it's stunning but lights first,” you unravel some warm-toned lights to swathe around the tree. Aegon helps, letting the string fall in a chaotic but visually pleasing manner. After the lights, you two arrange the few ornaments mostly childhood handmade ones and classic ball ornaments.

One of the decorations had a family photo of four blonde-haired children of similar ages, two more mature-looking women, one with auburn hair and one blonde like the four younger, and a man who looked like he could be their father. The four children resemble the ones in the sepia image on the counter next to the vacant fruit bowl, this was his family, she assumed. You look over the tree to make sure there aren’t any empty spaces to fill before turning to him.

“Ready for the star?” He nodded and you both put it on the top of the tree, his hand plunged down to your waist to ensure you didn't fall. The skin there tingled at his caress. After doing so you both collapsed on the couch Sunfyre wriggled his way onto your thighs like he thought he was a lap dog.

You looked over Aegon's face, his side profile, more specifically his nose, and lips before looking away. “Do you have flour, brown sugar, spices, and eggs here?” You inquire trying not to think about what these sensibilities denotated.

“Yep,” he smiled holding the still warm cup quickly taking a gulp of the drink. His throat bobs and his tongue runs along his lips to collect any residual droplets.

“Wanna make cookies?” She leaned into him slightly the tension between you two palpable, so thick you could cut it with a knife. Your eyes flick down to his lips before you reprimand yourself mentally.

“If I ever say no to that take me out back and shoot me in the head,” you both chuckled, he had an ardent look in his eyes. You attempted to get Sunfyre off you and arose when the doorbell rang.

Ding-Dong.

[hcdragonwrites]

Cozy (a @jttw-monkeybusiness Drabble )

So I made another one- this one was inspired by this ask (I suck at Hyperlinks I’m so sorry)

It rolled a bit in my brain and kept begging to be fleshed out, so I decided to give it life ! Enjoy!

Snow

Snow fell in white flurries, chasing away the blossoms and birds that had been sitting in the trees just moments before. The storm was in a full frenzy now, peeling petals from overeager trees who had budded too soon, and throwing the birds from the sky. The wind whipped up the cold powder to spray back in the face of the pilgrims as they continued on their journey. They had left the warm subtropical forest only hours ago, where Sophie had rolled her sleeves up to relieve some of the excess heat. Now however, she was shivering.

None of the group, save for Wukong, was truly equipped for the snow and cold. Pigsys ears were turning purple from the temperature as he tried, and failed, to hide from the worst of it behind Sandy. Sandy silently continued on, carving a path for Sophie (who trailed farther behind) to walk through. The snow was already deep, coming to her knees as they continued to follow the tiny path up the mountain. Black rock jutted upward and outward like broken teeth into the white air. Horse and Monk both were struggling ahead, Yulongs sides shivering in the wet as the snow melted on his fur. Tripitaka called Wukong over, asking him to scout ahead to look for a place they could shelter for the duration of this storm. Sophie could see there heads bent together as Master and pupil discussed. Wukong, for once, didn’t reply with a snort or a quick jab at how Trip should be lucky for him to be his disciple. Instead he had somersaulted off, gone in a flash of fur and tiger stripes, into the air.

“Would be nice if I could just somersault out of here.” Sophie muttered.

A freak blizzard had not been on the list of things Sophie was ready for. She had faced shape-changing demons, women that turned to great tigers to devour Tripitaka, mountain gods throwing stones down into their path and the like. Sophie was prepared for any person or creature - or at least- expecting it. The weather however? She was severely underprepared for. She had the travel clothes she had bought with the coin purse she’d been given. They were meant for light rain and mild heat. Not for a snowstorm. Sophies hair was getting wet and the cold was starting to chill her ears from where it melted.

“It’s so cold…” she muttered. She kept following Sandys footpath, thankful for the giant of a river demon and his slow shuffling walk. If he was walking normally he would have left her far behind in the snow.

Her foot hit a rock and slipped, sending her flailing into a rapidly growing snowbank. “F-f-f-freezing! AH!” Snow had gone down her shirt, sending a chill up her spine. Faster than a wildcat she had hopped from the bank, shaking herself.

“Hate snow hate snow hate snow—“ she chanted her mantra as she slapped off the powder, trying to prevent it from melting and wetting her clothes. Wet clothes would only spell disaster. Sophie could recall all the cold born illnesses from one special National Geographic did on Everest and the extreme exposure the hikers faced there: pneumonia, Trench foot, frostbite, hypothermia, flu, Chilblains, bronchitis —

Her foot slipped again as her mind was listing all the things that could happen. Sophie would have been in the snowbank a second time except something caught her by the midriff and hauled her up.

“Stupid women stay on your feet!” Wukong snarled in her ear, setting her down. Sophie nodded, teeth chattering and nose turning red as the cold began to chap it. “Of all the people here I thought at least you had the common sense to be aware of ice!”

From up ahead came the faint cry and heavy fall as Pigsys fell face first in the snow. Sandy had to quickly turn to hid a chuckle as the drenched demon began wilding swinging his rake around in rage.

“S-s-sorry.” She mumbled, shoving her hands beneath her armpits. “Slipped.”

“What’s wrong with your speech? You sound like a squirrel.” Wukong cocked his head, an eyebrow raised. He rolled his eyes when Sophie didn’t banter back irritated she wasn’t snapping back at him. That agitation grew when he felt something like worry begin to itch his pelt. Of the pilgrims, the two mortals were in his charge of care and were the most delicate. While Wukong could fight off monsters and Demons and wicked minded mortals he could not fight a storm. Well- he could if he really wanted to find the celestial body responsible for its creation. But that would take time- and time was not on his side on this.

Tripitaka had put on a brave face when he had asked the Monkey King to find shelter. That didn’t mean Wukong had not noticed how his Masters hands had turned red at the growing cold, how his body shivered and his nose sniffed. Wukong would have teased, poked and prodded at his master- it was his nature to rile and cause mischief. But when he had seen the half awake expression on the mortal man’s face, Wukong had bit his tongue (with great effort) and had instead nodded.

Seeing Sophie in a similar state made the itch beneath his pelt grow worse as fire ants had begun to bite his skin.

“Damn it.” He cursed beneath his breath. He snatched her arm, avoiding her hand, and started dragging her behind him. “Come on just a bit farther you softie. I found a cave up ahead where we can get out of the worst of it. You mortals are ABSOLUTELY worthless when it comes to weather —“

Sophie was only half listening to Wukongs ranting. She allowed herself to be dragged up the mountain pass, trusting the Monkey King to find a better route than her own dimming senses. The cold was like a blanket she wanted to escape out of. Or escape into? She couldn’t remember clearly. If she closed her eyes… she was so tired. The snow looked inviting, comforting. Like the best downy comforter. Like the fluffiest pillow.

Maybe I just … need to lay … down in the comfort. Just close my eyes for a few minutes.

They had been walking for hours before the storm blew in. Her feet hurt, her hands shook and it was so cold. Cold. She just wanted to sleep.

“SOPHIE LOOK AT ME!” Wukong yanked her and she was rattled enough to open her eyes wider in surprise. Sun Wukong was right in her face, leaning so close she could see every line of his facial markings in detail. His breath came from between his teeth like some dragons as he glared.

“Ye-es?!”

“Stay awake- we're almost there. If you fall asleep while I’m dragging your ass up the mountain I will bite your pretty nose clean off!” The demonic monkey spat, then, half carried, half dragged Sophie the rest of the way. Leaning against his back Sophie sighed. Through the clothing she could feel it- like desert sand warmed by the sun. Delicious heat. Sophie - who wouldn’t in normal circumstances have cuddled so close- practically melted against the warmth. What else could she do? Wukong was dragging her up the mountain- practically carrying her. She could see the bend in the mountain pass- a steep cliff where the road cut itself around and hugged the mountain as a snake would do climbing along a vine. Almost there.

“How come you get to be so warm?” She grumbled, not realizing she had said it aloud. Wukong had heard however, and his face became a storm cloud as his heart took a shuddering beat.

“Maybe grow some fur or ask for the Buddha to make you some furry creature. Bet he would too.” Wukong grumbled back.

Stupid fucking women.

They reached the curve in the mountain where Pigsy and Sandy- mostly Sandy since the pig demon kept complaining about how cold his snout was- were setting up three tents. The tents were simple, the leather treated against wet weather and solid. All pigsy had to do was drive the stakes into the stone which, it seemed, he was failing at.

“It’s so damn cold!” Pigsy snorted angrily stamping his hands together, having missed the spike for the third time. “Blasted Heaven and whoever ordered a storm now of all times! Don’t they know who’s crossing these mountains?”

“Less talking more working.” Sandy angrily chided. He had finished setting up the second tent all on his own. When Pigsy went to open his mouth to make another comment and the usually peaceful Sandy shoved him across the shallow cave to the last tent and the one closest to the entrance.

As Wukong walked past, Pigsy lifted an eyebrow at the strange sight. The Monkey King could see the pig beginning to lift a lip in a smirk only to stop when he noticed Sophie’s shivering.

“What did you do?” Those were the last words Wukong expected to come out of his fellow brothers mouth.

“WHAT DID I DO?!” He bared his teeth, fangs on display. He didn’t have time for Pigsy or for his own feelings to confuse him. He knew Sophie was practically clinging to his back like the newborn monkeys did to their mothers back on Flower Fruit Mountain. He was very aware of it. The last thing he needed was for this thick pink idiot to start shit with him.

“I DIDNT DO SHIT YOU THICK HEADED BOAR.” He spat, continuing past. “THIS IDIOT STARTED FALLING ASLEEP IN THE FUCKING STORM. NOW SHUT UP AND GET THE OTHER TENT SET UP.”

Wukong left Pigsy behind, angrily chattering to himself and feeling embarrassed all the while. He couldn’t let that thick womanizing boar know any of Wukongs feelings. If he did, the damn brute would only press his nose to it and route deeper. The sooner he got Sophie off his back the better. Even though he didn’t entirely want that.

He reached the back corner of the cave, setting Sophie down. She huffed, letting go with some reluctance to his warm back. The Monkey King knelt, leaning in. Sophie’s shivering was less. Good.

“I’ll be back- I have to make sure the pink ham doesn’t fuck up the last tent. Once I’ve tended Yulong and seen to my masters comforts I’ll be back to check on you.”

Sophie pulled her knees to her chest. She was still so cold. She wanted nothing more then to curl up and sleep- to find something warm and hold onto it. She heard Wukong from far off - but she nodded.

“S-S-sure… just gonna fall .. asleep.”

“Don’t fall asleep you idiot.” He snapped.

“Why not?” Sophie groaned. She was tired

“Remember. You are in wet clothes. Wake up just to remember - Think. Use that reading brain of yours.” He flicked her between the eyes. That woke Sophie up enough as the pain cleared her head.

“Ow, what the hell Wukong?!” Sophie felt like she had come out of a daze. Her fingers started rubbing at the pain. It wasn’t terrible but … she felt like a child be scolded. Sophie glared up into the smug monkey face.

“Awake? Good. Now fucking listen before you nod off again.” Wukong smirked just a bit. The itching beneath his fur had eased just enough upon seeing her get mad. He spoke slowly, for her sake but also to press in how much he enjoyed giving her orders- and being right about them. “Your clothes are wet. You can’t sleep in them. Change to new ones. In fact, bundle up as much as you can. I’ll be back to check on you.”

Wukong stood up, then turned back around to flick her on the forehead again.

“Ow! I’m up, I'm up!” Sophie rubbed at the space between her brows.

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Yes yes …” she uncurled herself and stood as well, looking down at the Monkey King. “Get out of wet clothes and get new ones. Bundle up. That really hurt you know.”

“If you are still in wet fucking clothes, I’ll do a lot worse then just smack you between the eyes.” And then he was away, already cussing Pigsy out who had, somehow, managed to rip the tent.

It was a only about twenty minutes later but Sophie had managed not to fall asleep. She had gotten into the tent and had peeled the worst of the wet clothes off. Her poor shoes were the worst for wear- the socks and the soles were soaked. She would have to wear her spare shoes tomorrow and let these ones dry. Sophie had set the wet clothes to the farthest side of the tent. She was now dressed in a pair of gray sweats, a long sleeve and her hoodie of bright orange with clementines decorating the front. She felt much warmer and absolutely exhausted. Her fingers were red where the cold had gotten them, her lips felt chapped from the dry air, and her body just kept shivering.

Sophie had retreated almost completely into the hoodie- only her face was viewable.

The tent flap lifted and Wukong stepped in, a bowl of some sort of wild berries and cold rice in one hand. He took one look at her huddled there on her sleeping mat and snorted.

“You look like some orange orangutan.”

“Hahah very funny. See how you like the cold when you don’t have fur.” She shot back. Wukong offered the bowl to her and she took it, digging into it with gusto.

“How’s Trip?” She asked between bites.

“Alive.” Wukong leaned back, putting his arms beneath his head as he stared up at the tent ceiling. “You two would have frozen if not for me- you were both starting to look pinker than yangmei fruit.”

“Thank you.” Sophie said.

“Mm? What are you thankful for ?”

Oh he was gonna ask her for all of it then? Sophie looked at him. Wukong had propped himself up enough to stare at her, waiting.

“Thank you for the food.” She lifted the now empty bowl- she had been famished - to him. “Thank you for finding a spot to rest. And … thanks for dragging me out of the snow.”

“You almost died I hope you know that.” He smirked, laying back down, eyes closing. She followed suit, too tired to sit up anymore or even bicker back with him.

“Yeah I did …” Sophie yawned. Usually she wouldn’t admit so readily to Wukong just how certain situations had made her dependent upon him. He was always, in some way or other, saving the lot of them. When Tripitaka was snatched up by some Goblins belonging to some chieftain of a nearby mountain, when Pigsy had boasted that they didn’t need Wukong and then (almost immediately) failed to find food when Wukong was sent away. He had stopped the dragon horse from foundering and taken to the care of his hooves and coat many a time. The Monkey King had seen to restoring the missing supplies from Sophie pack when a group of mischievous raccoon spirits had taken it. Wukong had even replaced Sandy’s teakettle when it was smashed in battle (Sophie was pretty sure he had stolen it).

He may act aloof and pompous but deep down, this big old brute cared for them. Even Pigsy.

Sophie felt her eyes grow heavy as Wukong kept talking about how she had stumbled in the snow like some “dumb struck fawn” until he came to help her.

As she relaxed to the sound of his voice rumbling on and on, it almost felt … cozy. Yes Wukong may like to slide the occasional wriggly salamander into her water skin, he may thumb through her things like they were his, he may call her idiot, stupid women, and softie. But. There was no real malice behind his actions.

He was also kind of … warm. She scooted closer, half listening to the Monkey ramble on about the idiocy of mortals and the greatness of beings such as him. He was rambling on about his natural prowess over mortals and how he had mastered the arts of immortality and Tripitaka couldn’t even master warding off a cold. Sophie fell asleep before he could get to the part about her looking like a slack jawed idiot in the snow.

Wukong was only a quarter way through his regaling of the story of how he had saved everyone this day when he felt hands wrap around his chest.

His heart nearly flew into his throat as he stopped dead in his speech. His mouth was open, voice cut off halfway through his speech. Sophie curled into his side, face buried in the crook of his neck and so close to his ear he could feel her breathing against its shell.

Electricity shot threw him, fur standing on end as if he had been in a thunderstorm.

He was suddenly very aware of many things. Of Sophie’s hands that had escaped that ridiculous orange sweatshirt and were now burrowed into his fur. One arm was across his chest. The second one was now, somehow beneath his head and tugging on his shoulder. Sophie’s face rested on his arm and in the curve of his neck, her face rubbing back and forth like a cat. As if … she was enjoying the feel of it.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Sophie moved just a bit, mumbling in his ear and Wukong felt his tail lash like it had just been bit. She didn’t say anything coherent but — the proximity alone—

Fucking Hell and all its Judges.

Sophie was … cuddling him.

She was practically twined around him.

And she smelled fantastic. Her scent always changed- sometimes it held a hint of lemons and the sweetness of grass, other times it floated like rain clouds and smelled of stones. But all of it together had a larger perfume beneath it. It was just her. Yes there were moments when her scent changed just enough that he felt like he was adding new spices onto his favorite dish. The essence of it, however, was just Sophie.

And now that cloud was all around him, filling his nose.

He looked at her, turning his head just a fraction to see.

Big mistake.

She was asleep, passed out completely. She looked so … fragile asleep. The dark circles beneath her eyes spoke of how she hadn’t been sleeping well. Her nose was stupidly pink like a Red Pika in her pale face. The cold must have chapped it. His eyes darted to her lips …

Mistake number two.

Wukong looked away, feeling his face flame. Fuck. Shit. He was stuck in a predicament now. He hadn’t meant to chat away about himself for so long that Sophie would fall asleep. Wukong was at war with himself. On one hand, he needed to get out of here. To leave before Pigsy and the others found out- before Sophie found out.

He couldn’t let anyone be that close to him- couldn’t let anyone be as close as Sophie was right now. It was a liability to his pride, to his reputation—

To his heart. Because if she rejected him it would ruin the friendship they had. And the feeling he had building in his chest- he would crush it in his fist before he let it jeopardize that peace between them.

I have to leave —

Wukong tried to move-

Only to feel Sophie’s fingers tug in his fur and her sleepy voice grumble “m’no don’t go.”

Jade Emperor flay me and boil me alive again.

In all the hundreds of years of living, Wukong had only felt trapped like this but once before. The first time he had lost his wager to the Buddha, having been unable to somersault out of his hand. The second time? He was trapped because he allowed it. He was trapped in a way no one in Heaven could have predicted- or had thought to do. Wukong had been placed in vats to be boiled, had wormed and tricked his way out of every trap and net that had attempted to keep his mischief managed. It had taken Buddha and his wager to finally end Wukongs terrorization of Heaven.

Wukong couldn’t move now. He was tethered here by frail fingers and the steady beat of a mortal's heart.

He could hear her heartbeat, feel it against his side. It was steady, soft. Like the steady roar of Water-Curtain Cave. Like the wind through the trees of the orchards on his mountain.

She was mortal. One day that steady beat would stop as all mortal hearts did.

That set his tail to lashing just a bit.

Hasn't she been afraid of dying? Of growing old? He remembered hearing a conversation late at night- when Tripataka and Sophie had those rare mortal conversations where he was explicitly not allowed to sit in on. He hadn’t known why it was such a secret conversation. So of course, since it wasn’t an order, Wukong had pulled a hair from his tail and made a doppel and floated somewhere nearby but out of sight to eavesdrop. The Monk and Reader had been chatting about death, about Sophie’s future.

Well her fears were unfounded. Doesn’t she know I would take care of her? Sophie shifted a bit closer as a gust of wind slipped beneath the tent flat he had left unsecured. Damn it all. Wukong carefully, o so carefully, shifted himself. He slid his body so he was now lying on his side, setting Sophie’s head beneath his chin. It was all the invitation Sophie needed to cuddle closer and escape from the wind.

“You stupid women.” He angrily whispered into her hair. He wouldn’t let her die. He would just fix that. He would fix a lot of her problems. She just had to tell him. He was Sun Wukong, Great Sage Equal to Heaven. He knew of a hundred different ways to achieve immortality. He could fix them all. Like her problem right now of being cold.

He was too tense to relax fully- too aware- but he grew just a fraction larger. His size now dwarfed Sophie’s a good bit and gave her a bit more to tangle into. And she did. Sophie curled her knees up, shivering slowing. Wukong waited. Watching. When finally the shivering had ceased he allowed just a fraction of tension to slide off of him. This stupid softie is gonna make me soft. The thought didn’t bother him as much as it would have months ago.

Maybe he wouldn’t get much sleep tonight but…

He could make her life Hell in the morning. It was something that she owed him on. His face was screwed furiously into a scowl because all he wanted to do was enjoy this moment but if he did- if he really truly did- he didn’t know if he would be able to stop.

She was most assuredly going to be bombarded tomorrow with the most annoying and snappish teasing and toying a King of Monkeys and tricks could give.

Sophie woke with a start as something cold and wet slapped her in the face. She panicked as any person would.

“GaH! DEMON!” She cried, grabbing at her face and throwing it aside. It was a wet rag.

“Relax.” Wukongs voice laughed at her. “Unless cloth can become possessed and has gained a hunger for red nosed mortal flesh, you're fine.”

He was at the tent flap, grinning ear to ear in a grin that promised problems. Really so early in the morning and he already wants to play games ?

“You could have woken me up in a number of other ways- why did you pick that?” Sophie rubbed at her face, feeling … huh. She didn’t feel as sore as she usually felt. When Sophie woke up there was almost a constant crick of pain in her neck from whatever odd angle she had slept in on the ground.

Maybe I had been so tired my body just finally didn’t care.

He shrugged. “You stink. Next place we stop at you better demand a bath of some sort or other.”

“Thanks….” She grumbled, letting the sarcasm drip off her words. She took the cloth up, rubbing the sleep out of her face and the worst of the dirt off her face and arms. She would kill for a warm bath, one that would wake up her bones and chase the last of the cold from her body. Once clean, she checked her wet clothes, bundling them away in a separate part of her pack to avoid them dampening the rest of her stuff. Then she stepped out of the tent, smelling the fire and the promise of breakfast being made.

Only for her feet to slip right from beneath her as a monkey foot stuck out and caught her ankle.

“WUKONG!”

He laughed, face full of malicious mischief as Sophie gathered herself up to chase after the errant Monkey. To do what, she didn’t know. He was a mystical demonic creature born of stone and she just a mortal women. As the morning light cut into the cave and Tripitaka had to order his disciple to calm down after he once again tripped her and she almost went sprawling into rocks, the pilgrims ate breakfast. They broke down their tents. And they were once again on the road.

None were the wiser of Wukongs happier mood. He hid it beneath a storm of frowns and a game of teasing torture as he became partically insufferable to Sophie. The threat of the hoop tightening spell was the only true damper to his mood when Tripataka heard Sophie scream as snow was dropped down the back of her shirt.

As the sun rose higher and the word was cast in a frosty flash of refracted gold, Wukong made a decision. He would solve Sophie problem of growing old. It was easy. And if Buddha couldn’t send her back…

Well she was a great sport for pestering and heckling. The least he could do as a benevolent King is give the poor women a roof over her head.

Maybe a few dresses down the line...

Girls liked dresses right?

“Hey Reader!” He called.

“What?”

“Dresses or suits ? What did you wear in that fake time long after this one ? Or whatever fake dimension you fell out of. What did you prefer ?”

And thus began the long hour debate that somehow pulled every one of them: Pigsy, Sandy and Tripitaka, into what was a heated discussion on the best attire for the best occasions.

[cu7ie]

the rubdown. | freeloader!toji

cw ☆⌒(>。<) toji being genuinely unhelpful unless it is for his own gain. he's a pervert, and a mooch. reader is wearing a bikini, has tits and cooch, but no explicit use of she/her or feminine prns. suggestive material. reader putting up with a parasite. sexual references and thoughts courtesy of toji. mentions of sex. an: hi! i wrote something for the @bastardblvd collab! enjoy. ☆⌒(≧▽���° )

It's fucking beaming out.

So hot that sweat dries on his temples as soon as it forms, and Toji is a sweaty, sticky mess - and fuck, he can't stand the beach. 

But you wanted to 'enjoy summer', and even though Toji thinks it better spent with your air conditioner and fan, getting to see you half-naked is nice too. You said you'd bring drinks, and the snacks, and the sunscreen, and although you didn't tell him to bring anything - (because you knew he wouldn't, anyway,) - he mentioned bringing some water guns, if only to get you to hop up on the balls of your feet like you usually do.

He doesn't have shit on him but skin, sweat, towel folded under his arm, swim shorts clinging loosely to his hips, a fat ass and a big dick. Oh, he can only carry so much.

The sun (perhaps serving as his retribution,) blazes higher in the sky.

The sound of his flip flops on concrete is really starting to eat into him, the sun edging his peripheral pissing him the fuck off. Oh well. You’re the one with the sunglasses anyway. You always have everything. And Toji might have the sense to feel shame if you were any less gracious with him than you are now.

Lord knows why you’re so fond of a freeloader. A rude one too. He’s thinking so hard he almost stumbles right past you. “Hello-o-o! Over here!” He flicks his head over sharply, and there you are.

Toji couldn't get you to cover up in a blizzard - nevermind if there's an occasion for it. Imagine his surprise then, when he struts up thinking he's hot shit, and there you are, big sunhat, skin and all smiles.

If you wouldn't have popped him in the mouth for it, he'd say you look like a slut. (So he thinks about it instead.)

Toji hopes you got your bikini at a discount, because it's barely there. Two lucky triangles pin up your pretty tits, skimp lines of cloth tied with cute little bows and easy enough to undo, he thinks. One pull and it all spills out.

You've got bikini bottoms with the thin string that hug onto your hips just so that your chub puffs and bulges cutely around it. Your little swim shorts are just a shitty self censor, cause this isn't a nude beach and he's sure that thong is cuddling with your clit. 

"Toji?" You blink at him, and now that he's paying attention, you're rolling along a small cooler, a bag folded under your opposite arm. "You good?" 

"Yeah." You look good. So much so his mouth waters and he barely saves himself from drooling in front of you. He’s eyeing you up like a dessert tray, trying some of this, some of that. How’d your nipple taste in his mouth, lightly damp with your sweat, laid out bare on the beach. Your pussy in his face, your tasty slick dripping down his lip and chin…

He stiffens his back, steels his jaw and glowers at you like he's got a problem and it's somehow your fault. “Let's go." He brushes past you. Doesn’t even offer to take the cooler, kicking up sand as he goes.

"Oh, okay.” The cooler makes a noise as it rolls, though it’s mostly muffled by sand. “Did you bring the water guns?" The absence of any bag in his presence might have alerted you to the fact that no, he didn't, and the sound of cooler rolling is muffled as you two trek onto the sand. "Didn't bring shit but me."

You visibly deflate. "Oh. Okay." And trod a little ways behind him still, your amiable presence soured for a moment as you continued walking, silence filtering in between the pull of the ocean and whipping of wind.

"C'mon, you don't gotta be a baby about it." He taunts, flicking up your sunhat enough it nearly whips away. "But I didn't say anything!" You’re kicking up sand, stomping now, making faces like he can even see you, like he has a reason to care. It’s just you. “I’m getting real tired of you y’know - always putting words in my mouth…” Putting other things in your mouth, too.

"N I’m a little tired of bringing all the stuff! I don't know why I even let you drink the drinks that I paid for …" Yeah, it's truly the eighth world wonder. "And the one thing you promised-" Promise is a strong word. "Hey, you got that in print, sweetcheeks?” He pokes into his ear. “Cause I can’t seem to recall…”

You’re swinging, clapping your sunhat against his shoulder, scowling. “Don’t piss me off, Toji. The sun’s already doing too much.”

The beach is sparsely populated, umbrellas dotting the sand a little ways away in every direction. Toji grabs your wrists and tugs you still, nearly making you trip over your feet as you come to find yourself in the middle of the beach. “Here,” He says, and he starts pulling the chair you were carrying out of your arms - setting it up and claiming it as his own, folding his towel over the back of it. You roll your eyes. “You could help, you know.” He waves his hand, regarding you with your hands on your hips and bag still folded under arm. “You look like you got it all covered.” He grins, self-satisfied and smug. “Please, don’t let me distract ya’.”

The ass he is - just sits there - pops open the cooler to take out a beer, but sits otherwise, cracking it open and wearing your hat atop his head and shades from your bag.  You don’t know where he’s looking, appearing impassive as he takes a sip. Another. A brief pause.

You situate your blankets on the sand, rolling the cooler over a corner to prevent them from being flapped away in the wind.

While you’re busy doing that, Toji’s getting in a nice gander. At the dip in your waist and each roll of fat, the backs of your thighs as you bend over and adjust the blanket again, the dip of your bikini into your ass as you kneel down to affix the umbrella in the sand. The shades kind of fuck up the view, so he has to ensure you’re turned away so ya don’t catch him staring. (Although, it is quite hard to miss the feeling of eyes poking at you. When you turn to eye him up, he’s better than you thought at playing dumb.) 

Just before you lay down, you (finally) shimmy out of those sad excuse for shorts. They’re so tight on you they threaten to drag down your bikini bottoms, but you’re not so forgetful that you moon him and a bunch of other (lucky) strangers. It’s slow, methodical, and he really shouldn’t be looking so hard as they slide down your thighs and drop to your ankles. Using your foot, you flick the article aside, aiming for your bag but missing by a margin.

You’re hot and sweaty and annoyed. He sips his cool drink and watches you crawl onto your blanket on all fours, paying too much attention to the worry your ass wiggles and shakes as you clap sand off your feet and get comfortable atop the thin sheet.

It’s silent for a few moments longer. You don’t seem to want to talk to him much. Expected honestly - so he keeps on sipping his beer, looking over every now and then to see if your demeanor changed any. 

Nah. Your cutesy pout is edging on scowl, the sun in your eyes not doing much to soften you up. “Hey asshole.” He grunts questioningly. “Hat. Give it to me.” “Since when did we start demanding shit?” He snorts. You squint, unamused. “The hat. Gimme.” He tosses it over and you put it back on, finally able to look around proper now that the sun isn’t wrestling your brow. You lean over into your bag and fumble for the bottle of sunscreen. “What’s that?” Man’s is so fucking nosy.

“Sunscreen.” The top opens with a resounding pop, at home amongst the sound of the pull of the tide and the occasional seagull screech. You squirt a glob onto your hand, ready to start rubbing it in when Toji stops you. “What?” “Lemme help you with that.” The way he runs his tongue over his lip makes your heart pound, but you ignore it for the time being. He’s already scooping the screen out of your hands. “You’ll be mad as hell when your tan comes out patchy. You just need a good rubdown sweetheart, and don’t worry - Toji’s gonna give you exactly what you need.”

“Oh oh oh, so now you wanna help? I thought I ‘had it covered’?” You purse your lips and Toji makes an ugly face at you. “You want a patchy tan? Who else is ‘sposed to get your back?”

“But that’s my leg Toji,” His rough palm smooths across your calf, not so discreetly crawling up your knee and palming up your thigh. “I coulda done that.” 

“Well it’s just your turn to relax, then.” Toji grits his teeth when you smile up at him so smarmy, having laid flat on your back at this point. “Yeah, yeah. Have fun feeling me up you old coot.” His fingers dig into the meat of your thigh at your jest, making heat rise to your face unbidden. “And you let this old coot put his balls in your mouth,” Toji rolls his eyes, his grin grimier than ever. “Crazy.” “Toji!” You snap, irritated all the sudden. He can never let you win, can he? “The sunscreen.” 

“Don’t worry. I didn’t forget.” His arms lift your legs with ease, starting low near your ass and making his way to the tips of your toes, massaging every little patch of your skin with the utmost care. His hands aren’t a roughness you’re unfamiliar with, just as comforting and soothing as the cool sunscreen. Then he’s at your tummy, massaging in circles near your ribs, feeling up your sides, applying more to his hands, rubbing again. 

It’s … nice. The one thing Toji’s done in a while you’ve had no complaints about. He lingers sometimes, like when he was getting the insides of your thigh and near your hip, a little too fixated on the reveal of the bikini and warmth of your pussy. Eventually he backed off. Opted to bide his time instead, working his way all the way up towards your collarbones and cute face.

Which he offers to massage, too.

“I think I can do my face myself…” Toji clicks his tongue. “Just lemme do it.” 

You don’t really argue with it. He holds your delicate face in his big hands, dwarvish in comparison. He’s even gentler then, hardly tugging or pushing, but very much thorough.

He gets you on your stomach easily after that. Good thing you don’t have eyes on the back of your head - cause he’s feeling of the impish sort, spreading more sunscreen across his hands before kneading it into your back. He’s way too good at this.

It’s a little embarrassing how easy he’s got you. But the intimacy of moments like this are absolutely unmatched. You moan and sigh under his skilled hands, and forget for a moment how you’d regretted asking him along not even ten minutes earlier.

He starts at your shoulder blades, then goes down, down to the small of your back, finger testing the waters by plucking gently at the strings on your bikini. You’ve relaxed enough under his ministrations that you don’t notice his hands swiftly undoing the knot on the bra top, massaging in more sunscreen where his hands had ghosted over earlier. He’s panting a little. It actually is hot as fuck and no beer to drink feels like a death sentence, but he sticks it out til he gets to your bikini bottoms.

He sucks in a deep breath, and in one smooth motion, tugs the bottoms down. There’s no hitting or yelling or pouting or whining. The uninterrupted sounds of the beach, the two cutest cheeks he’s ever seen…

This beach day is turning out to be well within his favor.