#c: not a snowflake but a fucking blizzard

[thewingedwolf]

i literally hate my sansa tag (16 year old me was trying to be poetic okay) but i haven’t come across a tag or quote i like better yettttttt i also don’t have a specific Sansa Song, i have Stark Songs but not one specific to her. i keep saving all the Sansa art and meta to my drafts and being like “i’ll queue it when i think of a tag” but like george lying about twow ever being released, i am lying to myself about coming up with a tag anytime soon lmao

[bleach-your-panties]

Sincember Event❄️❄️

Requested By: @sacredwarrior88

Rating: Fluff/Suggestive🍥🍭

“Shit, it's cold out here..”

You brought your scarf up to cover the lower half of your face while your feet sank deeper and deeper into the freezing, wet slosh beneath them.

Head-Captain Kyouraku is undoubtedly a slovenly bastard for this.

Having you, his faithful little third seat, to deliver his contribution to the weekly Seireitei bulletin to Captain Muguruma.

In the middle of a fucking snowstorm.

And on top of that, you take after your older brother Kenpachi - you're terrible with directions!

If you had actually taken the time to check the weather before you left, you'd have known that the snowfall was only going to increase further. The chances of a blizzard happening were above 90%.

“Dammit…I can’t see a thing out here. Who knows where I could be? I could be on the way to Sōkyoku Hill right now and not even know it! I-oof.”

You fell back onto your ass in the snow after colliding with a solid wall.

Wait, a wall? 

A soft grunt reached your ears before the sight of an orange-gloved hand coming towards you made you look up to see what you had run into.

Or better yet, who.

“You know, the polite thing to say when you run into someone is ‘’excuse me'.” Kensei’s gruff voice called out to you. 

The snow was still getting into your eyes even though you were wearing goggles, so you could only barely see his disgruntled expression as he waited for you to accept his hand.

“Sorry. Excuse me and thank you, Captain Muguruma.”

He grunted again, irritably.

“You can drop the formalities. Kensei is just fine. You're one of Shunsui’s brats aren't you?” 

Your mouth dropped open and a snowflake fell on your tongue. Wrapping your own gloved fingers around his, you used his body as leverage to pull yourself up.

“Brat?! I'm not a brat.” You huffed indignantly and crossed your arms. 

The corner of Kensei's mouth turned up.

“Sure you're not. That for me?”

His stony eyes trailed from your boobs that you'd managed to push up with your previous motion to the folder tucked underneath your arm, carefully tucked away from the cold torrent of frosty snow that was swirling all around you both, more fiercely now.

“That old man sent you out here in this shit just to give that to me? What a waste of space.” Kensei rolled his eyes and getured for you to hand it to him.

“O-oh! It’s no trouble, really! Here you go!” You handed the file over with no problem. 

“Well, my mission is done. I'll be going now, see ya Capt-whoah!” 

Kensei had tucked the folder under his own arm and simultaneously pulled you into his side.

“You working with half your brain or what? There's a fucking blizzard coming and I don't trust you to make it back to squad one barracks by yourself.”

“Hey! You calling me dumb?!” 

Your cheeks puffed out and you rolled your e/c eyes now.

He chuckled. “You said it, not me, sweetheart. Come on.”

—-

Just as Kensei said, the blizzard came in full-force.

After the two of you made it back to his place and he'd shut the door behind him, the snow began falling harder and faster.

It piled up against the front door, effectively sealing it shut and trapping the two of you inside.

“How unfortunate is that. We'll probably be stuck in here until the morning when the sun comes back out - if it even does!”

Kensei's heavy boots on the wooden floor behind you made you snap your head around to face him.

It was obviously too cold outside for shinigami robes, so instead he was dressed in a thick, gray sweater with a black puffer coat over it, black scarf, black cargo pants, and his orange gloves.

“You see something you like?” Suddenly a hot mouth was beside your ear, tickling the fine hairs inside of it as Kensei breathed his warm breath onto the side of your neck.

It was a welcome contrast to the striking cold chill that had been covering your body since you'd entered his home; with that simple gesture a fire lit inside your core and you subtly rubbed your thighs together.

With a smirk on his lips, Kensei backed up to give you some space before walking off to a fireplace that was positioned in a corner of the large living room and lighting it.

“Make yourself comfortable, sweetheart. You don't have to act shy.”

“Hmph, who’s acting…” You mumbled bashfully and began to take off your gloves and coat before joining him on a large chaise lounge situated in front of the fireplace.

Kensei had also taken off his coat and hung it on a rack close to the door. His strong arm muscles rippled beneath his sweater as he held you close to his chest.

“Captain Muguruma, is this…appropriate?” 

The man behind you only hummed softly and rested his cheek in your cold hair.  You felt your body shivering, prompting Kensei to lay you against his chest and cover you with his much larger body.

He laid on his side, becoming the big spoon and encasing your legs between his.

“You’re so cold, little one. Let me warm you up, yeah? It’s the least I could do for you, since you came all the way out here in a snowstorm to deliver your captain’s article to me.”

A soft smile grew on your lips and you nodded.

“Sure, Captain.”

Kensei’s smirk returned to his face and he shifted slightly so that your ass was pressed up against his pelvis. He was slowly hardening from the simple action of having you lie against him, the crackling of the fire in the hearth steadily lulling the both of you into a quick, cozy nap.

----

ʳᵉᵇˡᵒᵍˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵉᶜⁱᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ🫶🏽

[princessmisery666]

Stick The Landing - Part 1 - No One's In The Room Mini Series

Series Summary: Jake and Ryleigh find themselves stranded in a remote location when a mission goes sideways. Injured and dependent on his help, she gets a glimpse of the man beneath the façade of ‘The Terminator’. Once they are rescued, the bubble of their personal Vegas bursts, and Jake struggles with new emotions while Ryleigh hopes he will finally see the man she came to know when no one else is in the room.

Summary: Good news, they made it to the safe house. Bad news, a blizzard hinders their rescue.

Warnings: injury description.

W/C: 3k

Characters: Jake ‘ Hangman’ Seresin, Ryleigh ‘Rodeo’. 

Pairing: none for part 1. 

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch

Graphics: made by me on canva.

Stick The Landing

Another kill, not yet confirmed. That totaled three for Jake’s official record, a reason to celebrate. The ejection that followed, not so much. In the butt-fuck middle of nowhere with no cell reception or radio contact, added to the snow that was getting progressively thicker, celebrations would have to wait. 

“Are you sure it’s this way?” Jake asked for the hundredth time. Not because he didn’t trust Ryleigh, callsign Rodeo, but because he knew it was pissing her off. He was the obnoxious ‘are we there yet’ backseat driver, and he heard the aggravation in her clipped tone whenever she chose to reply.

Ryleigh growled, further away than he’d expected. He stopped to turn back and look for her. She was twenty feet or so away, eyes closed, breath fogging the cold air while she rested against a tree he swore they’d passed already.

“Rodeo?” he asked, concerned by the paleness of her face. 

“Yes, Hangman, I’m sure,” she sighed, “it should be five klicks ahead.”

He eyed her more closely - a sheen of sweat decorated her brow despite the below-freezing temperature that left snowflakes in her hair. She looked exhausted, eyes still squeezed shut, chest rising and falling while she tried to catch her breath. They’d only walked half a klick; she shouldn't be that winded. Then he noticed she was favoring her right leg, holding the weight off the left, and a steady drip of crimson rolled down her boot and pooled in the white snow.

He rushed toward her, and the crunch of fresh snow alerted her to his approach, eyes springing open. “Shit, Ryleigh, you’re hurt.” 

“No shit, genius,” she snarked.

“Where is it?” He gently tipped her forward to look at her back. An inch-wide branch protruded a few inches from the meaty flesh of her ass just below her hip. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“‘Cause, as always, it's a competition with you, and you were too busy boasting about how gracefully you ejected.”

“I mean, I did stick that landing.”

She rolled her eyes. He infuriated her so much she could spit fire if she had the energy. She pushed off the tree, preparing to continue the journey, but Jake, less than gently, guided her back. 

“You can’t walk on that leg,” he assessed, “you shouldn’t have walked this far.” 

“It’s fine,” she stated stubbornly. “I’ve made it this far, and it’s not that much further. I can make it. It’s fine.” 

He set his lips in a straight line, looking back through the copse of trees. Bread crumbs of crimson amongst the white showed him how far they’d come.

“No, it’s not fine,” Jake all but growled, holding her in place by the shoulders. “Stay.” 

She leered at the command but bit her tongue, deciding against complaining about being talked to like a disobedient dog. He stepped back, waiting for a second to ensure she followed his command, and then unrolled his stuffed parachute, using his pocket knife to tear a patch of fabric and a length of cord.

“Hold this,” he instructed, passing it to her. She weakly took it from him, which urged him to work faster. He folded the nylon over itself to create a rectangle of fabric long enough for her to stretch out and thick enough not to let too much moisture seep through.

Satisfied with his work, he stepped in front of her again. Shoulders slumped, eyes mere slits; she’d probably fall asleep where she stood if he let her. He cupped her cheek and raised her head to look into her eyes. “Don’t pass out on me, okay?”

She chuckled, but it was full of fatigue. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were worried about me.” 

“Don’t worry, darlin’,” he smirked, dropping to collect snow in the patch of fabric he’d cut, “out of all the people I hate, I still hate you the most."

“Aw, you really mean that?”

“I really mean it,” he said, but it swiftly morphed into a grimacing apology as he stepped to the side and wrapped his hand around the twig embedded in her leg. Her eyes grew impossibly wide, and her hand swiftly gripped his shoulder, nails digging in. “We gotta get it out. I can’t move you with it stuck in there. It could cause more damage.” 

She stared daggers at him, apprehension radiating from her in waves so strong it could melt the snow around them. The fear and discomfort were apparent, but he wasn’t sure whether it was because he was right or going to be the one to remove it.

“You know I’m right,” he stated, brows raised, asking if she would challenge him, “you can be a baby about it all you want, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m right.” The ‘as usual’ goes unsaid, but it's in his tone and the smugness behind his eyes that he keeps locked on her as she seethes while pondering a retaliation. He doesn’t wait, using the distraction to yank out the protruding branch. 

“Ow! Fuck, Seresin,” she yelled, fingers digging into his flesh so painfully he worried he might need to remove her fingernails.

He pressed the snow-filled nylon against the wound, gripping her good hip to push her against his hand, applying pressure to stop the bleeding. “It was gonna hurt whether I warned you or not,” he shrugged. 

She panted for breath, eyes glaring at him, and he swore she was trying to set him on fire with her mind. “I hate you.” 

“That might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me,” jested Jake, working to staunch the bleeding with the strip of nylon, using the parachute cord to tie it around her waist and leg to keep it in place. “That should hold,” he hoped. Throwing her arm over his shoulder, he helped ease her down onto his makeshift gurney.

The safe house was a one-bedroom cabin with - thankfully two beds - a bathroom and an open-plan kitchen and lounge area. The cupboards were well stocked, and the radio worked.

Jake sauntered to the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe, watching Ryleigh as she weakly tried to rip her flight suit to access her wound. 

“You want the good news or the bad news?” he asked, taking a bite of a protein bar.

She sighed, closing her eyes as she stopped her attempt to remove the blood-soaked fabric. “If the good news is more of your ego, I’ll pass.” 

He ignored her, “good news - this place is freshly stocked. We got food and booze,” he explained, holding up his partially masticated oat bar. “There was an old radio in the back. I’m pretty sure I’ve contracted some disease touching it, but I got in contact with the ship. They have our location and assured me we’re safe.” He paused, taking a breath, waiting for her to make eye contact with him through the mirror above the sink. “The bad news is they can’t deploy search and rescue since there’s a snowstorm heading our way, and it’s too dangerous to fly. Could be a couple of days.”

“Fuck.”

He smiled broadly, eyes crinkling with delight. They were stuck, but he was delighted in knowing how much that pissed her off. He found endless entertainment by bugging the shit out of her - which usually only took him flirting. “You’re stuck with me, sweetheart.”

She turned and limped toward him. “I think I’ll just let myself bleed out then.” 

He grabbed the crook of her arm as he moved forward, guiding her back into the room. “Don’t be so dramatic,” he said, throwing the wrapper over his head, left-handed nonetheless, and scoring a three-pointer into the trash can. “Damn, I am good.” 

“Oh god, please just let me die,” she groaned, face crumpling with distress.

“Let’s get you patched up, and then I'll make us some dinner.”

“I’ll make us some dinner,” she mimicked immaturely, rolling her eyes. Of course, he could cook.

The bathroom was small, but Jake managed to maneuver himself to sit on the edge of the tub without causing Ryleigh further harm. Jake winced at the oozing wound as she pressed her uninjured leg against the sink for support. 

“May I?” he asked, taking hold of the torn fabric. Carefully turning to face the mirror, she leaned over the sink, gripped the porcelain’s edge, and nodded approval. He pulled the frayed material further apart, exposing her thigh and hip. He froze and waited for her to look down at him, flashing a sly smirk. “Silk panties under your flight suit?” he questioned, “expensive ones too. Are you trying to seduce me?”

“Yes,” she sneered, “my plan all this time was to be your WSO, have your ego get us shot down, and get injured just to show you my silk panties.”

He winked, smile never faltering. “I knew you wanted me. Now pass me those tweezers; I gotta make sure there’s no dirt left in the wound before I close it up,” he explained, pulling a small flashlight from his back pocket.

She did as instructed with minimal grumbling about his bedside manner.

He shone the light on her leg, but her torn suit was in the way still. “You need to take this off,” he said, tugging on the arm of her flight suit, “so I can pull out any remaining debris, then sterilize the area and stitch you up.” 

“Why do I feel like you’re getting way too much enjoyment out of this?” 

“Am I that transparent?” he asked, shaking his head. “Believe it or not, Rodeo, I don’t like seeing you in pain, and I don’t want you getting an infection and dying on me.” 

“Wow,” she gasped, eyes widening in surprise. “You actually sounded like a real human being.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he groaned, “I just need a witness to confirm my third kill.” She rolled her eyes, and he chuckled, “take this off,” he instructed, “I’ll be back.”

He went to the kitchen, found the liquor cupboard, and pulled two bottles out before returning to the bathroom. Ryleigh was in the same position as she had been before, but her breath was labored. She met his eyes, grabbing the scissors from the first aid kit. “It’s gonna be easier if you cut this off me,” she suggested. 

“Kinky,” he waggled his brow. “Pick your poison,” he said, holding up a bottle of whiskey and one of vodka. 

“Either one will work just fine to bash your skull in,” she sneered, swapping the whiskey for the handle of the scissors, but she held onto them, keeping eye contact. “And before you even start, my bra matches my panties.”

He wet his lips. If she’d asked, he’d have said it was a reflex, but it would have been a lie. He’d often thought of her in her underwear and, many times, naked. He’d seen enough of her figure during physical training to know she was attractive, and he couldn’t keep his thoughts from wandering to the panties she wore under that tight uniform.

He crowded her space, the small room making them practically chest-to-chest. “I’m definitely going to enjoy this bit,” he winked, dropping to his knees. 

He started at the cuff of her pant leg, sliding the scissors up, rising to his feet to follow their path. He made quick but gentle work of cutting her flight suit so she could slip it off without much movement, but she still needed a minute to pant through whatever pain she felt. She gripped the sink, knuckles turning white, eyes squeezed shut, and Jake took the opportunity to ogle her.

The cerise pink bra fit perfectly, holding her ample breasts without spilling over, and the panties sat on the globes of her ass, making the curvature more prominent. He wondered if her skin was as soft and smooth as the panties looked. If he stared much longer, he’d have to explain why his uniform was tightening, but he couldn’t pull his gaze away. 

“Hey, are you listening to me?” Ryleigh snapped, yanking him out of his musings.

“Sorry, it’s just really hard to focus when you look like that.”

“Urgh,” she scoffed, shaking her head. It seemed she was talking to herself, but he heard her. “An asteroid could hit Earth right now, and I’d still be more upset about being stuck here.”

She shoved at his shoulder, moving him aside, and he chuckled, backing up to stand in the doorway. He did love getting under her skin.

“I can finish up by myself, thanks.”

“Bet you say that to all the guys,” he snarked, trying to bait her further. However, she rarely fell into his trap of talking about her sex life, or lack thereof, as he thought. She was too uptight, in his opinion, and who else’s mattered? She just needed a good fuck.

“Maybe I do. You act like I’d say anything different to you.” She twisted to face the mirror again, glaring at his reflection. “Didn’t you say something about dinner?”

“As soon as we’re done here, I will impress you with my culinary skills, but you need stitches, and there’s no way you can do it yourself.”

“I’ll manage.” She heaved a weary breath.

“Ryleigh,” Jake uttered so warmly she turned to face him. He approached slowly, a seemingly sincere apology in his eyes. “It’s gonna suck. There’s no denying that,” he said, using the towel to gently wipe the trickle of blood that had escaped while they’d fought. His fingers brushed her skin, and she fought a shiver, but the goosebumps that skittered across her entire body, betrayed her. Jake smirked but smartly decided not to comment. “But an infection will suck a whole lot more. Besides, we’ve got about six bottles of whiskey and some painkillers with your name on them.”

She stared into his virescent eyes, his worry seemed genuine, and she pondered confessing the reason for her delay, but Jake wasn’t the kindest of people. She worried about revealing a vulnerability for fear of him having further ammunition to use against her. “I’m afraid of needles, okay?” she finally, although reluctantly, ceded.

“I can do it for you,” said Jake, “and I promise to be gentle.” As a demonstration, he took an antiseptic wipe from the first aid kit, opened it, and tenderly cleaned around the wound. He lifted his eyes to her face, smirking when he saw a split second of surprise. “I told you I’d be gentle.”

She schooled her expression and fixed him with a severe glare, pinching his chin between her fingers before threatening, “If I feel one iota of pain that I think could have been avoided by doing this myself, I will bruise your stupid face.” 

“Stupidly handsome,” he corrected, chuckling, chin still caught in her hand. “But I guess I can’t risk my stupid face,” he joked, earning an eye roll from her. “Switch places,” he instructed, “I need to wash my hands.” 

Ryleigh delicately perched on the tub’s edge, surveying Jake while he vigorously and thoroughly washed his hands. He appeared to be taking her welfare seriously, and witnessing this caring side was new. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.

He’d slipped his flight suit off his shoulders and tied it around his waist, and, suffice to say, Jake did not wear cerise pink underwear under his uniform, but he did wear a tight-fitting black tee that his biceps were trying their hardest to rip through.

Satisfied with his cleanliness, he asked for her hand and helped pull her to her feet, agilely maneuvering her hips to angle her to get the best light.

“Shine the light for me.” 

She grabbed the small flashlight from the countertop and again followed his commands.

“Take a breath.” 

She inhaled, and Jake poking the blunt tweezers into her leg stole her exhale. He moved as gingerly as possible, and she looked down to see a deep grimace in his expression as if he felt genuine remorse for the unavoidable pain he was causing.

“Got it,” he confirmed, pulling out a fragment of bark. He rose to his feet, dropping the offending piece of debris into the sink. He tore the packet open containing the needle and caught her eye, “don’t watch,” he suggested, “I promise no more surprises. I’ll tell you when I’m ready to start.” 

“That’s your second promise in as many minutes. You better make good on them, Seresin.”

“I take my promises as seriously as my flying.”

Watching as he threaded the needle, she believed him. The thought brought her some comfort before he dropped to his knees, positioned his hands around the wound, and asked, “ready?”

“No,” she said, through gritted teeth, “but go ahead.” 

“One, two, three…” 

The first pinch wasn’t half as bad as her fearful brain had conjured up, and she relaxed significantly.

“Good girl,” he cooed. “What even is this place?” Jake asked while he worked. Clearly a distraction, but she was thankful for it. 

“Do you ever listen to the briefings?” 

“Sometimes.” 

“An old Navy retiree owns like a ridiculous amount of land,” she yelped when the needle pierced her skin again. “It just so happens to be below our air space. He has a few of these dotted across his land for situations just like ours. I think he’s still tight with some of the top dogs, so when he knows we’re running drills or on a mission, he stocks them up, just in case.” 

“Well, here's to him,” mumbled Jake, reaching for the whiskey bottle and taking a swig.

“I’ll toast when it’s done,” she sighed when he handed the bottle over.

“So toast,” he shrugged, snipping the end of the thread off with the scissors. Rising to his feet with a kind smile, he told her, “Six stitches, and we’re all done.”

Ryleigh looked down at her leg as if she didn’t believe him, but there it was. A tightly knitted wound that was no longer bleeding and didn’t look half as bad as she’d expected. 

“Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” he whispered, “take a shower. Put some Neosporin on it and a fresh bandage when you're done.” 

She stood at attention as best as she could and saluted with a straight face, “yes, Doctor Seresin.” 

“Call me if you need help scrubbing your back,” he winked, “or your front.” 

She shook her head but failed to hide the slight smile. “Go make dinner, jackass,” she called after him, suppressing a chuckle.

The water was hot, and Ryleigh overindulged, not only to soothe her aching body but immaturely, hoping to waste the hot water, so Seresin had to take a cold shower. If his reaction to seeing her in her bra and panties were anything to go by, he’d need it.

A few minutes into her shower, he’d knocked lightly on the door calling out that fresh clothes were on the bed when she was ready. She was surprised he’d thought to check, honestly. It wasn’t his style. Unless he expected his thoughtfulness would score him points and get him laid.

No chance.

Never. 

Not even if he were the last man on earth.

Jake Seresin wasn’t exactly her archnemesis. However, given the choice of being stranded with any of her Top Gun classmates, she’d have chosen anyone over him - even Tomcat, with his poor hygiene habits. Hell, even Nox, who snored as loud as a jet engine, would be preferable. Anyone but Hangman. 

t wasn’t just his cockiness that rubbed her up the wrong way. It was the fakeness. She didn’t believe the assholery he exuded, at least not all of it. She hated fake people, hated that they expected her to be naive enough to believe the bullshit they spewed. Plus, he was arrogant, impulsive, and selfish. Okay, he’d dragged her ass five klicks through the snow and been surprisingly gentle patching her up, but that didn’t change anything.

After she dried herself as best as possible with the too-small towel, she applied the ointment per ‘doctor’s’ orders and put a fresh bandage on her leg. She peeked out the bathroom door, caught sight of Jake’s back, and quickly made her way to the bedroom with the towel barely covering her. A glance over her shoulder told her she’d made a clean escape—no need to give him more ammunition to taunt her.

Waiting for her sat a blue plaid shirt, probably two sizes too big, and a pair of jeans that looked as if they’d fit, maybe a little on the snug side. The thought of them compressing her leg made her groan, and she decided the shirt would do.

She slipped her panties back on and was buttoning the plaid when the delicious aroma swirled around her. Sniffing the air like a cartoon dog, she half expected to levitate to follow the scent. Whatever Jake was making, it smelled good.

Urgh, just another thing he’s going to boast about. She honestly didn’t know how she’d survive being stranded with him for however long it took for the storm to pass. As she entered the main room, she heard Jake humming and rose to her tiptoes to mask her approach, not wanting to interrupt the melodic tune.

For fuck sake, he even hums well. Bastard.

She leaned her good hip against the back of the sofa, watching as he made light work of cleaning up his meal prep and dance-walked to the tune he crooned.

She tried to fight the smile, but it was another new way of experiencing Jake, and she couldn’t say she minded the way his hips swayed.

“I’d say it smells good in here,” she snarked as he put some trash in the trash can and caught the smug smile from the profile, “but I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to fit in here with you and your ego.”

“I’ll do my best to keep in check until we get back to base, just for you,” he grinned but did a spin and graceful slide toward the fridge. 

Ryleigh fought the urge to roll her eyes. She imagined she’d be doing a lot of urge control over the next few days. After all, the Navy frowned upon murder.

Another spin, but he stumbled and stuttered his words, “Here, dri–” upon seeing her full on. His eyes dragged the length of her body and back up, bottom lip caught between his teeth. “This is in no way a complaint, but I left pants,” he snarked, pointing back toward the bedroom.

“I couldn’t face pulling them over my hip, so I decided against pants,” she explained. “But if this,” she motioned up and down her body, “is going to be a problem for you, I’ll put them on.” 

“No, no,” he quickly replied, “it’s fine. I’m gonna need something pretty to look at while we’re stuck here.” She didn’t fight the urge to roll her eyes that time and Jake chuckled. “You keep doing that, and you’re gonna have an aneurysm before we get picked up.”

“Neither one can happen quick enough,” she grumbled. 

He reached over to the countertop, picking up a white bottle. Stalking toward her, he explained, “Found some antibiotics. Take two and drink this,” he handed her the pills and a water bottle he’d taken from the fridge. “I’m gonna take a shower. Don’t touch the dinner. I’ll be out before it's ready.”

Part 2 - Personal Vegas

Series tag list open - send me an ASK / comment or reblog.

Tag List Info can be found here

Master Lists: Top Gun Maverick // All The Fandoms

[kyarasalvatore]

Dear Santa... por Spicy and Sexy Blog 🌶️ Via Flickr: 🌶️⤷1042⤶ 🌶️ ⋆FULL CREDITS⋆ 

 🌶️Lelutka EvoX Ceylon v3.1 

 🌶️eBODY Reborn v1.69.4 

 🌶️REBORN - Juicy Rolls - v1.0 

 🌶️7 Deadly s[K]ins - SUNDAY Shape - @DollHolic 

 🌶️7 Deadly s[K]ins - SUNDAY Skins [Apricot]- @DollHolic 

 🌶️1 Hundred. Festive Fantasy. – Exclusive at @FETISH FAIR 

 🌶️RAWR! Blizzard Bellychain - Exclusive at @LEVEL 

🌶️ASH. - F-U-C-K Snowflake Choker - Exclusive at @FETISH FAIR 

 🌶️Hexed - Fuck Toy Scars + Blush BOM - Exclusive at @FETISH FAIR 

 🌶️- Sweet Art- Dear Santa Set - @TSS

[erimeows]

Strange Land

The forest floor was coated in an elegant coat of white, the trees around you drenched in the same frozen water as large snowflakes were blown into your face. The tears that poured from your (e/c) eyes were the only thing keeping your cheeks warm, and you had to admit, you were starting to regret your earlier decision.

An emergency bag on your back, a hoodie, leggings, and boots on, you’d rushed out of the Autobot base in the middle of a snowstorm on Detroit’s coldest day of the year after an argument with no other than Optimus Prime.

It was simple enough. You, as a human, were unconditionally loyal to the Autobots, but Optimus Prime never took you seriously and always implied that you weren’t strong enough or smart enough to help them. It all came to a head when he held you back from going to help reattach a limb to Bulkhead, who had been injured in a battle with the Decepticons that day and had his leg pulled from where it was attached to his knee joint. You were fully trained and capable of doing it, and Ratchet kept getting attacked by Blitzwing while he was trying to work, but even though you volunteered yourself, Optimus wouldn’t let you go work on Bulkhead because he insisted you would get injured. 

The snow had just started then, and thankfully, the Decepticons were so startled by the frozen water flying from the sky that they retreated, but by the time you and the others got back to the base, the large flurries were flowing down with fury, and by the time your blow up with Optimus had ended, it was a full-blown blizzard.

You’d left, and no one had chased after you, which kind of hurt your feelings, but you couldn’t blame them. It was dangerously chilly outside, and just like you, they could die from hypothermia and go into a forced stasis if they stayed in it for too long.

You rolled your eyes because, of course, Optimus was right; your decision making skills were horrible, and that’s why you were knee-deep in snow and filled with anger and a bitter lack of warmth. After leaving, you’d walked and walked and walked without thinking, and now you had no idea where the hell you were or how to get back- any time you tried to change directions, you ended up even more lost and felt like you were going in circles.

...It was annoying, how Optimus chastised you for putting yourself in harm’s way like a parent would their child when you were a full grown adult who was in love with him, for God’s sake.

Not that you told him that part- no, not with the issues the two of you had right now. You just wanted him to see you as an equal, but he made it so hard, and you figured there was no way he wanted you romantically if he couldn’t even take you seriously in your day to day lives. 

You heard crunch after crunch of snow behind you and froze, breath sharp and ragged. Was someone coming for you? You hoped it was a comforting presence like Bulkhead or Bumblebee- the other three would just chew you out for leaving so suddenly in the middle of a blizzard, or even worse, it could be a Decepticon, because of course that would be your luck.

“W-Who’s there?”

“(y/n), it’s me!” Optimus’s voice rang through your ears, slightly muffled by the loud howls of wind that surrounded you. You groaned in disappointment, though a deep, dark part of you that was currently clouded by your anger with him had been hoping all along that he would come after you; that he would show you he cared. “Where are you? Stay still and I’ll come find you.”

“No, I don’t want anything to do with you right now! Leave me alone!”

“I would if I knew how to find my way back, but now I’ve gone and gotten lost with you. My earth mode is a firetruck and I don’t get enough traction to drive through this kind of snow,” The Prime snapped back, and as you heard his voice get closer, you thought you could see his silhouette through the trees and snow. “The least you can do is come over here, (y/n)! Please?”

“Fuck you!” You moved to run off, but some combination of the wind and your feet being covered in movement-blocking snow made you trip and fall onto your back. You trembled and groaned at the feeling- it was cold, windy, and now you were coated in snow on your entire backside and from your knees to your feet. The shoes you wore were soaked through at this point, rendered useless and leaving your feet sopping wet. 

“(y/n), come on, I just want to take you back home! I just... I just want you back with me, I’ll do anything,” Optimus continued to try to convince you as he arose from the blizzard and loomed over your fallen form, servos moving towards you. “I understand where you’re coming from, but this is ridiculous- Gotcha!” 

Without any warning, the Autobot grabbed you by the hips, which made you squirm, and then thrash and kick in some failed attempt to get out of his hold.

“Optimus! Let me go, I can get home by myself-”

“No, you can’t, because if you could, you would’ve done so by now. You’re mad at me,” Optimus’s grip on your hips tightened, and he used it to lift you up on your feet. The second you saw his face, you found yourself breaking, the anger and fortitude you had earlier crumbling into tiny little pieces. “And I’m aware of that, but this situation is dire, and I need to keep you safe, so I’m not going to have you running around in the middle of nowhere alone and freezing half to death! If there were someone else here that you could be with, I’d allow it, but there isn’t, so I’m all you’ve got.”

You wanted to yell at him, to tell him that it wasn’t his responsibility to keep you safe and that it was that kind of mentality that made you leave in the first place, but all you could think about was how cold you were; shivering where you stood, feet and calves buried to the brim in snow, hands trembling as you shoved them in the pockets of your hoodie. You tried pulling your hood up, only for it to keep getting knocked off by the wind. 

“Optimus, it’s cold... I don’t want anyone else.”

“I know,” Optimus knelt done and kissed your head- at first, you thought it was a gesture of affection before you remembered that he was just as cold as you were and it was possible he couldn’t feel his servos, thus he was probably just doing that to take your temperature, which he confirmed when his servos were on your shoulders, clearly rubbing them in an attempt to warm you up. “(y/n)... I was so worried. I’m glad I found you.”

You were mad at him, and you should’ve acted like you were mad at him, but seeing him with concern etched in his features and freezing with cold metal and red cheeks had more tears welling up in your eyes and pouring out as you threw yourself into his arms and looked away. Surprisingly, he only held you close to him and hushed you as reassuringly as he could whilst running a servo over your back.

“I’m so sorry,” You apologized and buried your face into the crook between his neck and his shoulder plates- both of which were cold to the touch. Optimus only rested his helm on top of your head and sighed. “We’re only out here because of me.”

“No, it’s my fault, too. I shouldn’t have let you leave, and I shouldn’t have even argued with you in the first place. You’re an adult and you’re allowed to make your own decisions, even if I don’t think they’re the right ones. I’m sorry,” Optimus kissed your head again, and you knew that was definitely meant to be affectionate in some way as he pulled away and looked down at you. “I’m just hoping we find somewhere to keep warm, because if not... I’m fearful for us when the sun goes down.”

“Yeah...”

“You’re shivering,” He pointed out.

On one hand, you were relieved. You were freezing cold and scared that if you didn’t get somewhere safe soon, you were going to die out there, alone and cold and angry, but Optimus had found you and would not only keep you warm but act as a reassuring presence the best he could.

On the other hand, you were pissed off. You had gone off and done something reckless again, and he was here saving you like he always did, just like he’d said during his argument with you.

“A-Am not!” You objected and earned a scoff in return.

The littlest shred of willpower that you had left fell away from you as you realized that the energon, packs of ramen, water bottles, cash, hygiene products, and singular change of clothes you had in your emergency backpack wouldn’t keep you alive until you made your way back to the base, out in the middle of nowhere and all by yourself.

“Yes, you are,” Optimus growled and picked you up off of the ground like you were nothing, holding you close to his chest- the warmest part of his body- as he continued talking. “Normally I find how stubborn you are to be endearing, but we don’t need it right now. Just come here so I can keep you from freezing to death, okay? I’ll carry you close to me until we find shelter... I don’t want to get dark, but in case something bad happens to us while we’re out here, there’s something I need to tell you, (y/n), I-”

You had been focused on Optimus’s words up until you saw something from far away through the snow-covered trees; a cabin, that of which was topped with a flag that had the Autobot symbol.

You let out a sigh of relief, which had Optimus stopping and staring at you, optical ridge furrowed.

“Is that Prowl’s cabin?”

Optimus’s optics flew to where your eyes were trained and, in the distance was the very familiar cabin, familiar to the both of you. After the space barnacles incident, Prowl had built a cabin out in the woods so that he had a place to retreat to and enjoy nature without being exposed to the wilderness completely. All of the Autobots on earth had a key to it, and it was open for getaways just about any time; a nice, warm vacation home with a few rooms suited to the Autobots’ size and a huge living room with a fireplace. 

“It is!” Optimus cheered, a smile immediately taking over his face as he began to run towards it, still holding you tight to him. “Oh, thank Primus, we’re gonna be alright. Let’s hurry up so we can get inside and warm up.”

Before you knew it, you were tumbling into the cabin with Optimus by your side and struggling to shut the door behind you to keep the snow out. It was immediately warmer- so much warmer that you felt your skin burning with the contrast as Optimus set you down, allowing you to throw your bag on the ground and strip yourself of your hoodie, shoes, socks, and pants, leaving you in a pair of shorts and a tank top.

In that moment, you looked over at Optimus. He looked worse than you’d noticed initially; coated in a thin layer of snow and even ice on some of his appendages and his audials, intakes shaky and engines and vents booming in volume with the effort they took to keep him going. The Prime sat down and leaned his back against the wall, and as soon as you could, you threw yourself back into his arms.

“Optimus,” You whispered, relieved when he immediately pulled you into a hug on the wooden floor. It was true that he was frustrating, over-protective and stubborn, prideful and bitchy, but he had been your best friend since he’d arrived on earth, you were in love with him, and all you wanted was for him to be okay. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, shush... It’s okay, alright? You’re gonna be fine.”

“I know! It’s not that I’m upset about...”

“I’m sorry,” Optimus stopped, pulling back and looking at you. His face was serious, sky blue optics full with something new and intense as the ice and snow melted and dripped off of him. “But there’s something you need to know.”

“What?”

“I’m in love with you... Always have been, always will be, and I know it’s not my place, but that’s the reason I’m so protective, alright? I’d never be able to forgive myself if something bad happened to you,” The words had you nearly falling where you had sat in front of him, tears welling up in your eyes and falling down your cheeks yet again even though you’d stopped crying earlier when Optimus had found you out in the snowstorm. It was an overwhelming, crashing feeling of relief that washed over you in heavy waves. “Woah, hey! I know it’s awful and you’re way out of my league and everything, but I think that’s a little- Ow!” Optimus yelled at how you smacked his leg and glared at him, now glaring at you in return. “What was that for!?”

“What the hell is wrong with you? Out of my league? You’re everything to me, stupid!” You exclaimed, earning a blink of surprise from him. “I love you, too! Why do you think I get so mad when you undermine me and treat me like a kid?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” You hissed and looked at Optimus, who was staring out the window, nonchalant. It was always like that between you two- something big like a fight would happen and you’d go back to normal, wordless, natural, but now it was a love confession, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“So... When do you think this storm will pass?”

“Honestly? No idea. It could be a few days. I’m just happy my bag has some food and energon in it,” You sighed and stood up, walking over to the fireplace- thankfully, electric, so you turned it on and sighed in relief when you felt the warmth that immediately started radiating from it. You were feeling normal again, still a bit chilly, but not bitterly cold nor numb like you had been earlier. 

When you turned around, Optimus was standing next to you and wrapping a large blanket around both of you, pulling you into his arms yet again so you could share the warmth. The coldness had seemed to leave him, too, thankfully not resulting in any long-lasting health effects for either of you.

“I’ll see if I can com Prowl once the storm dies down a bit to let him know we’re here.”

“We can warm up and nap here, then I’ll make us something to eat. I just want to stop being cold,” You laughed.

“Alright. That sounds nice, actually.”

With that, Optimus moved to lay on the rug in the middle of the room, not even bothering with the large couch or any of the beds in the other rooms. You figured he was tired and decided to join him back under the blanket on the ground, cuddling up to his side.

“This is so much better.”

“Yeah?” Optimus asked, looking down at you with a small grin and a light blush.

“Yeah.”

“I’m not sure where we go from here, but I love you, and I want you to know that. Always.”

“I love you, too.”

[lilacadaisy]

surprise @karda​ i was your secret santa for @mcytblrsecretsanta​ ! for you, i wrote some crimeboys holiday fluff :D

here is the link for ao3

or, if you’d prefer to read it on tumblr, it is under the cut. enjoy :]

“a hundred glowing souls”

// warnings for brief mentions of c!ranboo’s death and c!dream’s escape. nothing too angsty, don’t worry.

---

It is wintertime when all hell breaks loose. When Pandora is opened and its most dangerous inhabitant is unleashed upon the world outside.

Upon Tommy.

The soil is just beginning to roughen, the frost newly coating the earth. The chase from what remains of Logstedshire is terrifying in its own right. The aftermath—the fear, the anticipation, the looking around every corner unsure of whether Tommy would breathe his last right then and there—that is the worst part.

But if there is one thing that Tommy knows better than anything else, it is that, sometimes, the solution to anything is to wander.

And in the midst of winter, he slips a bag over his shoulder, clambers over the walls he’s built around his house, and does just that.

---

The point of wandering is that you do it aimlessly. It’s maybe not the best idea to entertain when there’s a prisoner on the loose hunting you down, but it’s winter. Tommy can’t stomach spending the season cooped up in those walls of his. This once was one of his favorite times of the year, and he can’t help but feel like a moth drawn to flame with the way the scents and sights and tastes beckon. The world is calling his name.

Besides, he has his comm in his hand at any given time, thumb poised over the “notify entire server” button that Sam had added before he got really deep in his position as the Warden. If the worst comes to the worst, Tommy sends out his location to every soul out there and they track him down and save him. That’s what he’s assuring himself of, anyways. There are always other possible scenarios.

“I’m Tommy Fucking Innit,” he whispers to himself as he crosses an unfamiliar field, staring up at the stars. “Nothing bad will come of me.”

He passes through mainland SMP, crossing bridges and rivers, passing portals and trees. At this time of the night, almost everyone is bound to be asleep. Snug in their beds. Perhaps dreaming about their friends or families. Tommy removes an apple he had packed from his bag and crunches into it. His feet carry him into the night. He could always visit Snowchester, he thinks, then pushes away the idea.

Tubbo is… busy. Tubbo is taking his time recovering from Ranboo’s death, and that’s perfectly okay. As long as he is taking care of himself and Michael, Tommy can give him some space to recuperate. He understands grief and loss and the tangled knot those emotions burrow in one’s chest. That knot can take a while to unravel. He’ll visit Tubbo when he’s ready.

So rather than take a path he knows by heart, he just lets himself get lost. Because surely Dream would be asleep, too, at this hour. Tommy is fine. He mouths the sentence over and over to himself.

At some point, the grass underfoot gives way to snow. Tommy is infinitely thankful for the fact that he wore his good shoes. Wet socks are comparable to hell itself.

Soon enough, the snow begins to fall overhead, not enough to be a blizzard. Rather, it’s a heavy fall of thick, fluffy flakes that (no matter how much he attempts to brush them off of himself) stick to his lashes and hair. He recalls that Techno once told him that every snowflake is different and feels almost guilty to try swiping them off his clothes.

Snow should make it seem more like winter, but in a blurry, hazy way that Tommy cannot quite articulate, it doesn’t seem like the season at all. He enters a pine forest and stops in a clearing. It’s quieter here. A tad bit nicer.

December is the month that Prime is meant to be appeased most. A time for giving and forgiving. For traditions, both the ancient and the new.

Everyone has their own way of celebrating it, too. Techno rings bells. Some of the others visit the church nearly hourly. There are weirder ways, too, one infamous one involving tortoise shells and butter. Tommy’s way of celebrating, though, has always involved light.

So Tommy turns to the brightest lights in the sky, cupping his hands to his mouth, and bellows, “Anyone up there? Hello? Can I please get a wish granted or—or however you do it?” After a brief moment of no response, Tommy continues, “Can I get some holiday spirit? It feels like any other night right now and I’m not the biggest fan of that! Just some… some lights or something. I dunno, man.”

His voice echoes right back off the trees. Tommy cocks his head up at the sound, expecting an answer for just a moment, before the silence is broken with a voice: “Uh, Tommy? What the hell are you doing?”

Tommy’s head snaps back down to see none other than Wilbur Soot staring at him with an axe in his hand.

“Oh, fuck off,” Tommy murmurs to himself, promptly spinning on his heel because nope, he doesn’t feel like dealing with this tonight if he can help it. Then, to Wilbur, he shouts over his shoulder, “Can’t a man shout in the middle of nowhere in peace?”

“You’re… literally less than a hundred feet from Phil’s house,” Wilbur says.

Huh. Tommy didn’t realize he’d made it quite that far away from the central part of the server. Unable to help it, he snaps right back around to point at the other man. “It’s night, though. What in Prime’s name are you out here for? Go sleep in your shitty bed or whatever you do.”

“I was getting firewood? For a fireplace?” Wilbur emphasizes with confusion, motioning toward the axe in his grip.

“Well then don’t bother others, you royal shit,” Tommy says, jutting his chin forward pridefully.

“Wha—” Wilbur lets out a noise of offense. “Don’t come after me for being awake! You’re the one literally wishing upon a star at three in the bleeding morning!”

Tommy’s mind blanks, and all he can think to say is, “You heard that?”

“Anyone within a five mile radius heard it, Tommy.”

“Oh,” Tommy says quietly, then hums. He shivers and draws his cardigan closer to himself. “Interesting. Well. I’ll be off, then.”

“Aren’t you cold?” Wilbur whispers just loud enough for Tommy to catch it.

Somewhere not so far away, a horse—probably Technoblade’s—brays. The wind howls. The stars watch.

“A little,” Tommy admits, and who is he kidding? He’s freezing his ass off, despite the cardigan, the sweater, and the shirt layered atop him. His teeth are chattering audibly. Wilbur seems to notice, too, given the knowing look he sends Tommy’s way.

“Why’d you come here?” he sighs exhaustedly.

Tommy’s fingers tighten on his elbows. He looks anywhere away from Wilbur’s gaze. “It’s supposed to be the holiday season, innit? I was—I couldn’t stand hiding anymore.”

Wilbur doesn’t know about that, though, about any of it. How would he? Tommy has been too cooped up in his walls to come and tell him. Of course, Wil has probably realized that his burger man is dead by now, but… who knows? Maybe Phil explained it to him. Or Techno. What does it matter anyways?

“You stayin’ with Phil these days?” Tommy asks slowly, deliberately, and watches as Wilbur nods slowly. “Back to dear old dad,” Tommy continues after a low hmph.

“Don’t go all the way back right now,” Wilbur says, somewhat resigned, somewhat tired. Now that Tommy is really looking, Wilbur is shivering, too. He goes on, though, “Just… just come in for a bit and warm up or something.”

Tommy ignores that. He came all this way for holiday spirit so holiday spirit is what he shall receive. “Remember when we would celebrate Prime with a tree? The big one, right in the center of the town square?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Tommy scans the clearing. “I miss that.”

Wilbur takes a minute to compose a response, but when he answers, it is hesitant: “Do you wanna do something like it again?”

“Yeah.” Tommy grins.

“Will you come inside and warm up if we do this?” Wilbur asks pointedly. Tommy nods. Wilbur’s shoulders slump in relief. “Okay. Let’s… find a tree, I guess.”

Tommy bounces up and down on his heels, unable to contain his excitement. There hasn’t been a tree for the holidays in… oh Prime, it’s been years.

He begins to scour the clearing for the tree of all trees. They are in a forest, so thankfully there are a shit ton. All tall, beautiful, proud evergreens, tops pointed to the sky like soldiers in rows. Tommy despises each and every one of them.

Until he finds the one, tucked away, sticking haphazardly between two much, much taller pines.

It’s practically on the brink of death, needles scattered about on the snow beneath its measly trunk. But tiny, slumped over, and barely up to his waist, it’s the most perfect little thing Tommy has ever had the pleasure to witness.

“This one,” Tommy says determinedly, hands curled into fists on his hips. When Wilbur gives him a dumbfounded stare, eyebrows raised, Tommy only folds his arms together.

“You’re sure?” is all Wilbur says.

“Yep.”

“Alright then. Help me light these netherite chips.” Wilbur fishes through his pocket for a spare lighter and tosses it over. Tommy catches it with ease, sticking out his tongue. Wilbur rolls his eyes and reaches into his other pocket for the chips. They’re just crumb-sized fragments of netherrack, enchanted to not catch nearby objects aflame, mostly used to light small spaces. In this instance, though, they’ll be preventing forest fires.

Wilbur always watches Tommy to make sure he isn’t about to burn himself on accident with the lighter. Luckily he doesn’t, and the work goes twice as fast.

The repetition is almost trance-inducing, as they light the pieces and select the perfect spot on the tree’s boughs to place them. It gives Tommy a sense of focus, of purpose, and this holiday begins to feel more and more festive by the minute.

Of course, he can’t just let this be all work, no play. And what’s better than a classic Tommy Innit prank?

He forms a snowball behind his back slowly enough that Wilbur doesn’t notice, then throws it as hard as he can, effectively dousing the candle chip Wilbur had just lit. It explodes with grandeur, startling the man much more than Tommy had ever hoped, sending the blond into a cackling fit.

“Bastard!” Wilbur gasps, shaking the snow from his face like a wet dog.

“Prrrrrick!” Tommy laughs. It is loud and boisterous and so, so Tommy.

Wilbur—after a moment—throws his own head back in laughter, something warm and light grasping at his heart. They continue decorating the tree, but not before Wilbur manages to get revenge by hurling a snowball when Tommy least expects it.

They keep decorating with smiles on their faces, and despite the silence, their actions feel loud.

It is only once they run out of netherrack chips that they stop and take a step back. The once-dark clearing has suddenly become a golden center of silence. This is what should come after life, Tommy thinks, and not that hellhole void. No. This is warm and beautiful and it’s making Tommy’s heart tug in his chest. He stares at the tree and thinks, we did that. Him and Wilbur.

“I… I bet Prime sure likes their offering,” Wilbur says. It sounds strained. Too forced. He was always a man of the people, not of the religious.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to,” Tommy says. He shrugs, hands in pockets. “It can just be a tree.”

Wilbur sucks air in between his teeth. “It deserves at least some recognition, though. It’s—it’s been through a lot. You can tell by how it’s leaning.” He swallows, considering the pine. “And it didn’t deserve any of that. It’s small and scrawny and still too young. It shouldn’t have to bend like that.”

And Tommy suddenly doesn’t think they’re talking about just the tree anymore.

He glances over at Wilbur; the man is staring at the glowing beauty of the lights, brows furrowed, something like guilt caught up in his expression. Tommy looks away for just a moment, then comes to a decision, and reaches out for Wilbur’s hand.

“Neither should you have to,” he says, and Wilbur’s breath hiccups as he realizes Tommy’s open palm is outstretched. “You blew up our home. You went down a dark path. But no one deserves to die, Wilbur.” The last part comes out too choked. He coughs, once, to clear it. “No one deserves that afterlife.”

Wilbur hesitantly takes Tommy’s hand. Tommy squeezes. Wilbur squeezes back.

There is a long bout of silence in which the two of them just stand there, snow catching in their hair, taking in their work.

Wilbur breaks the quiet after a while. “I’ve been growing a garden here, you know.”

Tommy hums. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Lots of—lots of carrots and beets and things. Remember when you used to sing to make the plants grow faster?”

“Yeah.” Tommy’s lips curl into a fond smile at the memory.

“I’ve been doing that. I’ve been sitting in the garden and playing for them. Phil got me a new guitar for the season after my last one—” The words trail off. Tommy squeezes Wilbur’s hand again. His faraway gaze clears, eyes regaining focus. “After it broke in Pogtopia.”

“‘After it broke,’” Tommy snickers. “Wil, you chucked it at the fucking wall.”

Caught off guard, Wilbur lets out a sudden bark of laughter. “I did, I did.”

“Boom bam bosh.” Tommy lets go of Wil’s hand for just a moment to mimic the thing’s splintering and destruction. “And then it was firewood. Techno didn’t mind though. A fire is a fire, especially in a stone ravine.”

“That it is,” Wilbur agrees. He’s grinning widely. “But it’s okay because this new guitar is even better. It’s spruce, Toms. Literally spruce.” He gesticulates wildly. “And the sound. Oh, you have to come over one day so I can play you something. It’s so clear. ‘S magnificent.”

“I’d like that.” Tommy laughs. His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh! That reminds me…”

He backs up and removes the messenger bag from where it’s slung across his shoulder, unfastening the clips, digging past oranges and yarn and cards Michael made him in order to find—

“Aha!” He pulls out a massive sprawl of yellow wool and shoves it in Wilbur’s face. “Look!”

“Wow! That’s nice,” Wilbur says. His nose scrunches up. “What is it?”

Tommy flips him off easily. “It’s a sweater. I made it for you, prick, while I had nothing else to do. Well, kinda. I salvaged one of your old ones and fixed it up a bit. The one you have on right now has blood and shit on it.”

Wilbur’s puzzled expression falters, then melts away completely. He takes the cloth gently from Tommy, then turns it over in his hands, using the candlelight to inspect it. There’s a soft look to the corners of his eyes, the creases smoothed over, with a gentle humbleness taking their place.

“It’s got pockets now,” he murmurs. “And the burns are gone.”

His fingers brush lightly over the wool, then puts a hand in a pocket. He makes a puzzled face, and removes whatever is inside, opening his fist to reveal…

“Stones?”

“They were from the river that ran through L’Manberg,” Tommy explains softly. “From the very first summer.”

“Oh,” Wilbur says as an exhale. His knees begin to feel wobbly. He sits down smack onto the snow, crossing his legs to examine the pebbles. His fingers curl protectively around them. “Oh, Tommy.”

His shoulders begin to shake and he burrows his head in his hands. Tommy kneels beside him and doesn’t say a word, just pats his knee reassuringly.

“I didn’t get you anything,” Wilbur says after a sniffle.

“You did.” Tommy looks up at the stars and smiles. “You just don’t know it yet.”

So there they sit, two friends near both the prettiest and ugliest little tree anyone has ever known, and talk for a while. They’ll go inside once Tommy sneezes. And the next morning there will be warm drinks and confusion from Phil and a mountain of other problems to face.

But tonight, for the first time, Tommy begins to truly believe that they’re going to be alright.

[themilky-way]

on a foreign planet

gif credit: santigarcia

pairing: din djarin/the mandalorian x reader

summary: din isn’t too fond of touch, but after a particularly cold mission, he realizes just how important it might be. 

warnings: uh is me being touch starved a warning bc if so oh boy

author’s note: got the cot inspiration from 1) the literal fucking cot scene-you know what i’m talking about and 2) miss birbs’ lovely fic @whirlybirbs​ 

-----------

from what you saw, it had been a faulty mission on tatooine. the minute he stepped off the lift of the crest and set out to look for something was the minute your gut tightened in an all too familiar feeling. you came to know it like the back of your hand-living and occasionally partaking in conversation with the mandalorian the leading cause. you learned to trust that ache and never questioned it despite many efforts to do so; desperate attempts to urge him to not leave the safety of his ship were made, and sometimes a laugh threatened to escape because of how silly you must’ve sounded. the mandalorian never listened and never would, so all you could do was prepare the emergency kit stationed within the cabinets of the cockpit. 

he’d bust in whenever you’d least expect it. a weary hand clutching the side of his abdomen or a limped gait indicated he needed some form of assistance, and the responsibility was almost always yours. most of the time he never said a word, as was his usual demeanor, and just situated himself on the floor near your bed, his back leaning into the mattress. he knew you’d do it-care for him and restore his health-and now it’d be no different. 

“i’ll be back before sundown,” din informed. his armor seemed to glisten more in the early morning rays than it did in the evening, an odd comparison you made when he entered the cabin. he stood proudly at the door, as he definitely should, wiping his pistol with a small rag and inspecting its crevices and compartments to ensure its performance. then he looked up. 

you were sitting-cuddled, more like-in his pilot’s chair with the baby pulling on the strings of din’s blanket from the ground. short, high-pitched sounds came from him to gain attention. this isn’t yours, he wanted to say, but was stuck with the only language he knew: gibberish. “feel free to keep my blanket by the way,” the mandalorian assured, “you’ll need it for the blizzard tonight.”

“what blizzard? i thought it was just desert here,” you inquired, sitting up a bit in bewilderment. the blanket slid over your legs at the sudden motion, falling over the child still tugging at it. it covered his tiny head all the way to his tiny toes, outlining his (rather large) ears and torso. “maker,” you huffed after hearing a muffled, yet complaining coo, “what’s up with you today?” lifting the sheet with one hand, you brought the baby along with you and positioned it on top of your leg. “there. take a nap, will you?”

when you finally got the opportunity to look away, you captured a glance of din exiting the craft with his equipment in hand. you didn’t expect anything less; his attitude was meant to be cold and harsh. he didn’t have to say good-bye every time he left for a mission or tell you good morning whenever he woke up, yet you’d be lying if you said that the absence of these aspects didn’t take a toll on you. hell, a friendship would've been nice considering all the time you’ve spent with one another, but what you received would have to suffice.

it wasn’t often that you were left alone. somehow, and for some strange reason, the man who so earnestly follows his creed never lets the child or you out of his sight. it was fun at times; you bought the weekly groceries while din scavenged for an alien for its monetary value. a win-win. 

“i’m gonna go in that room...” you pointed to the small door of the cot, “...and i’m gonna sleep for a while, okay?”

the child looked at you and gurgled a reply. it began pointing its ears forward as a cat would if it were content. his stubby hands, which were hard to differentiate between that or paws, reached upward to indicate his wish to be hoisted. “you wanna come with?” you asked quietly, and a set of miniature teeth that were barely there flashed in a wide grin. 

the plan wasn’t to doze off for more than two hours. the siesta wasn’t meant to last through the whole evening either. 

the quilt (that wasn’t rightfully yours) was too warm for you not to fall asleep. the baby cozied up in the junction of your arm and elbow with its fuzzed head against your shoulder. your legs and torso were contorted to accommodate the limited capacity of the bunk; it wasn’t the best position per se, but it did the trick. 

on his way back from an assigned trade, the mandalorian’s field of vision turned foggy. a gloved hand that was possibly blue with the frost clung to his belongings in the same manner as when he’d left. to discard the items and shield himself from the falling snowflakes was what he wanted to do, but each slow, deep tread of his boots promised a closer distance to the comfort of his plane. snow developed into sleet as he neared the engine, with the droplets of water trickling down the “T” of his visor serving as a fun game of ‘which drop will reach the bottom first?’ it was childish in itself and not in the slightest bit appropriate for his current conditions. 

when the sleeve of white beneath his shoes became metal, his back straightened with a few cracks (one of his perks, he liked to say). his brain was running automatically, directing his steps and turns to where he could find one fragment of peace: the cot. 

he knew you were inside. the visibility his helmet equipped him with was astonishing; a single click of a button and the steps you took during his leave would be all his to analyze and detail. the same trembling hands from before reached for the latch and opened the door of the compact room. he tried to speak as clearly as he could without arousing a scare in the child or you, a free palm gently grasping and shaking your ankle. 

“hey,” he whispered. “canyouwakeupplease?” it came out rushed and scrambled, his teeth chattering in between syllables. 

“din’ika?” you slurred, voice heavy with sleep. “what time is-okay, why are you holding my feet?”

“needed s-something to wake y-you up,” din shivered. he took a step back, and for the first time that day, you fully saw him. there wasn’t much light in the space besides the one light coming from the cockpit but the shape of his beskar helped diminish your fatigue. 

“maker, din, you’re freezing. get inside.” 

he didn’t hesitate or fight your suggestion as he typically did. instead, with some trouble, he gradually squeezed himself inside the little space as you slid up the mattress. you swallowed a giggle when the top of his head hit the ceiling because, well, it’s funny.  

“don’t l-laugh at me, i’m c-cold,” he said. 

“i know you’re cold,” you smiled. 

din made the choice to sleep on his back, while your option was to lay on your side and the baby in the middle. it wasn’t horrible. the three of you could live with it.

a few minutes followed before you felt the cold leather of his fingers encircle the tips of yours. the sensation was new; an experience that wasn’t in the script for him. he was afraid of how you’d react. is this too tight? too clammy? i’m wearing gloves, it doesn’t even matter. no wait, yes it does. 

the thoughts stopped as abruptly as they came. he felt the air surrounding the room span across the skin of his wrist, and then the top of his hand. it flowed beyond that to the beginning of his fingers until his covering was completely off. 

your hand was warm and it fit so perfectly in his when you melded it together. a sharp breath hitched in his throat, unaware of how to speak and how to act. in this moment, din’s instinct demanded him to turn away and be who he was presumed to be, but that was nearly absurd now with his hand wrapped in yours.

“is this okay?” you spoke softly. 

he squeezed his eyes shut as if it would dissipate him from existence, trying to overlook your breath fanning into the opening of his suit. “yes. is this alright with you, too?”

“yeah. it is.”

[yoonsshadow]

BLIZZARD BLUES ⎯ myg

⇰ summary ; There’s a storm coming. Literally. And some idiot is standing outside singing Christmas carols.

⇰ pairing ; yoongi x fem!reader

⇰ genres ; strangers to friends to lovers[?], snowstorm!au, romance, fast burn [?]

⇰ themes ; fluff, a bit of crack

⇰ warnings ; talk of a natural disaster [blizzard], lots of banter, brief talk of male genitalia [balls lol], a bunch of sweetness

⇰ word count ; 1.8k

⇰ note ; Happy holidays everybody!! I hope that you all have a safe and happy day, no matter what you are celebrating. [Also this is largely unedited.] xx

It doesn’t always snow on Christmas Eve. Sometimes, when the sky feels selfish, it will open its clouds and welcome through the sunlight, especially harsh against the previous snowfall that is melting on the ground. What was once a white wonderland, snowflakes clustered together in a fine powder, becomes a muddy expanse of grass, dampened by the flowing tears of the melted icicles.

The magic of Christmas, so often associated with the pure white sheen of snowfall, is gone within hours of a clear sky.

But not today.

Today, the sky is selfish in a very distinctly opposite way.

“Temperatures will be reaching a record-low tonight, and snowfall is expected to only get heavier. With the possibility of a blizzard on the way, citizens are urged to stay indoors tonight.”

“Aish.” Licking droplets of mulled wine from your lips, you sigh at the latest news update. Just yesterday, you had been complaining of the warmth in the air, expecting yet another disappointment out of Christmas Eve. The universe seems to have answered your pessimism with a natural disaster.

Thankfully, you are one of the many lucky ones with a roof over your head tonight. The townhouse is small by standard means, but it feels so big to you. Though it may be cosy, it holds everything that is important to you, every memory that you have collected over your life, every momentum that has ever brought you joy. It is an extension of yourself, of your innermost being, and now it even protects you from the howling wind that you can hear picking up outside.

As you sit in front of your roaring fireplace, wrapped in blankets and listening to the Michael Bublé christmas album play on your scratchy record player, you think that maybe this is serenity; this feeling of calm, of contentment, when chaos surrounds you.

A harsh knock at your front door breaks through the sound of the wind.

At first, you think that maybe it was a trick of the mind, or perhaps a branch hitting a window, but the rapid knock-knock-knock against the wood is far too deliberate to be a mistake. Plus, when it’s followed by several more⎯⎯less patient⎯⎯knocks, you know that someone is here. At your house. At ten o’clock at night, as a blizzard is brewing.

It takes a moment to detangle yourself from your comfortable cocoon of blankets, but you eventually shuffle to the door as quickly as your cold toes [the things just never seem to be warm] will allow. You’re expecting an emergency official telling you to evacuate, or a neighbour asking to borrow supplies.

You don’t expect a shivering, disgruntled man reluctantly singing ‘Oh Christmas Tree’.

“Your boughs so green in summertime...stay bravely green in wintertime...O tannenbaum, O Christmas Tree...How lovely are thy branches…”

“Are you seriously carolling right now?”

The man stops his ‘singing’ to glare at you, as if you’ve just interrupted the most important performance of his life. “Hey, either let me finish the song or let me move on. It’s fucking cold out here.”

“No, but like, why are you singing at all? Didn’t you see the news?” The chill of the wind is biting at you even through all of your layers, so you don’t know how he’s surviving right now.

The man sighs, the air fogging in front of his face. “Look, lady, I lost a bet, okay? I gotta sing these carols, and I’m not backing out just because it feels like my internal organs are shutting down. So, what’ll it be? I can take song requests, if you’re feeling spicy.”

It takes you barely a moment to make your decision. “Option C. Come here.”

And you all but drag him into your house.

“Y’know, this could be considered kidnapping,” the stranger says as he slides out of his soaked jacket and toes off his boots. Despite his words, he doesn’t seem at all reluctant to be within your warm abode. “You could at least take me to dinner before inviting me in.’

His voice sounds harsh, mean even, but for some reason you aren’t intimidated by him. Maybe it’s the way his nose shines pink from the cold.

“Well,” you say, already gathering some towels for him, “it seems as though you haven’t watched the news in the last three hours. There’s a blizzard on the way, buddy, and you looked about halfway to frozen already. I thought that I would save the neighbours the trauma of digging your body out of the snow.”

“How considerate.”

“What’s your name, by the way? Since I’m extending my home and hospitality to you. I’m Y/N.”

“Yoongi. Also, you barely extended anything. More like forced. But, I’m a kind man, so I’ll let you believe that you’re being selfless. It is Christmas, after all.”

“And a merry Christmas to you too, mister Yoongi.”

“Ugh. Don’t call me mister.”

“Whatever. You should go take a shower to warm up, I should have some of my dad’s clothes for you to wear. I also have a shit-tonne of blankets and a big pot of mulled wine, so whenever you’re done just come downstairs and sit by the fire. And don’t steal anything. Or piss on the carpets.”

“Oddly specific, but okay. Thanks, generous kidnapper.”

Yoongi takes nearly an hour before he re-emerges from upstairs, to the point where you wonder if he’s actually pissing in your carpets. He looks clean, though, and flushed with warmth. And absolutely adorable in the ugly, oversized Christmas sweater that you laid out for him.

“This is fucking horrendous.”

A snort escapes you at his blunt statement, watching as he sinks into an armchair opposite you. His hair is sticking out from where he’s hastily dried it. “Thank you. My dad is the reigning champion in his workplace ugly sweater competition. He takes immense pride in inducing nausea. Want some wine?”

“Absolutely.”

When you pass him a mug, the liquid steaming and aromatic, he seems to pause, hesitation in the grip of his fingers. You give him the time he needs to arrange his words.

“I guess, um...thank you. For bringing me inside.” Yoongi isn’t meeting your eyes, but the tips of his ears are turning pink. “I was probably too stubborn to realise how bad it was and...I don’t know, it could’ve ended up really bad. So. Thanks.”

“Hey.” His eyes flicker up, briefly, but enough to see the bashfulness hiding behind all that sarcasm. “It’s seriously fine, but you’ve got to make a habit out of taking care of yourself. I’ve known you for two hours and even I can tell that you don’t take yourself very seriously. Hell, I could’ve been a serial killer, and you still just walked into my house.”

“I could’ve been a serial killer as well, hypocrite.”

“Killer Caroller does have a certain ring to it,” you admit. He’s deflecting, but you accept the divergence easily. “So, mister serial killer-”

“Don’t call me mister.”

“-Why don’t you tell me about yourself? There’s a chance that you’ll be here for a little while, so we may as well become acquainted.”

Taking a lingering sip from his mug, Yoongi keeps his eyes trained on the fire before him. “My name is Yoongi, I’m a Pisces, and I enjoy long walks on the beach.”

“Romantic.”

“I was born in Daegu.”

“Makes sense.”

“I’m a music producer.”

“Impressive.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, though they hold more mirth than annoyance. “Oh, and what about you, miss charity? Tell me about yourself.”

Biting back a chuckle, you reposition yourself in the armchair to face him better. “Well, my name is Y/N, and I have never been to a beach.”

“That’s sad.”

“I take self-defense classes.”

“Convenient.”

“And I’m a social worker.”

“Very fitting.”

The quick banter between the two of you pulls a smile across your face before you can tamp it down, but it seems like Yoongi is fighting one of his own.

Somehow, you have both converged to your larger couch, huddled together in a wine-drunk, giggly mess.

“No, I seriously would’ve won! But then he totally caught me off guard. I was sabotaged.”

Yoongi’s recounting of the story of how he lost his bet is nothing short of hysterical. “This Jeongguk guy sounds like a menace,” you say, throwing your legs over his lap. “I mean, who swings their balls in a friend’s face just to distract them? That’s just low.”

“Right?!” His voice is so loud, but your little bubble is barely disturbed. “And they were all hairy, too. I swear that I found a pube in my hoodie.”

This sets you off, for some reason, and your chest erupts in light giggles. Yoongi has only told you a few stories about his six male friends, and it has filled you with a kind of joy that you don’t remember ever feeling.

“It’s just...I bet that women aren’t this immature with each other. Am I right?”

You hum. “Sort of, but also not really. A friend of mine once stole my diva cup just because she was mad at me for using her hair brush. I tried to explain that it was an accident, but man was she pissed.”

Yoongi pauses. “What’s a diva cup?”

Blinking at the man that you’re draped across, you bring a hand up to pat his soft cheek. “Oh, honey,” you whisper, offering a small smile.

Slowly but suddenly, his hand comes up to cover yours, keeping it on his face. Your heart skips a beat, but you don’t notice.

“You’re really nice,” he says. His pupils are blown from drinking, and maybe from your faces being so close. Your cheeks are flushed for the same reasons. “And totally not a serial killer.”

“I’m still undecided about you,” you joke, breathing out a laugh. “But I do know that you’re pretty nice, too. And not as bad of a guest as I thought you might be.”

“Is it-” Yoongi cuts himself off, takes a slow breath as he closes his eyes. When he opens them again, he seems determined, if a little nervous. “Is it weird if I say that I enjoy spending time with you? And would, maybe, want to spend more time with you in the future?”

A lazy grin stretches your cheeks as you tuck yourself a little closer to him. It’s peculiar, maybe, that you’ve just met a man that you feel you’ve known your whole life. Curious, perhaps, that conversation with him feels more natural than with most people you know.

But weird?

No, you don’t think so.

“No. Not weird.” You lean forward a bit, shyly; wait for him to maybe do the same. “You do owe me the rest of a Christmas carol, after all.

He does lean forward, just a bit, and just as shy.

[paybackraid]

Someone’s First Snow

Summary: It snows in the Land of Departure for the first time in a long time and, well, Vanitas has never seen snow before.

Genfic, post KH3, following Vanitas’ inevitable redemption (I promise).

Ambiguous POV.  AO3

--------

“Fuck,” Ventus chanted, rubbing his forearms as he shook his way toward the kitchen. The castle was freezing, he could feel it in his toes. It was rarely toasty, but it only ever got cold, when…

One glance out of the window confirmed it. Snow. 

Ventus hated snow. He wasn’t a cold weather person. He could handle fifty degrees at minimum, and even that was pushing it. When it was cold enough to snow, then it was just too fucking cold. 

“When the fuck did this happen?”

“Ventus,” Aqua scolded from her place at the table, hand curled around a mug of coffee. “Language.”

“It’s below freezing, I’ll say what I want.”

Terra snorted from the kitchen counter where he steeped a cup of tea. “Amen to that. This fluffy white bullshit negates all manners. Hope no one important was coming.”

Aqua laughed and shook her head. “No, not today. Thankfully. I have to go out and see if I can salvage my garden. This came out of nowhere.”

Terra turned to lean against the counter, nursing his mug in one hand and holding out another to Ventus. Yet another sat on the mug warmer, but it would probably be there for a while. 

Ventus extended his hand for his mug and melted into the warmth in his hands. It was too hot to drink yet, but this felt too nice anyway. 

“So,” he said after a long moment of just existing in something warm, “what’s the plan for today then?”

“Lessons are off,” Aqua immediately said. 

“Shoveling,” Terra said with a grimace Ventus could hear. Terra hated shoveling—apparently it messed with his back. Ventus should probably consider helping him.

“You should continue your studies, if you have any bookwork left.”

Ventus grimaced himself, but nodded. He hated bookwork, but Aqua was the Master around here. He didn’t ask about Kairi, assuming Aqua had already told her not to come. “I’ll help shovel, and the—“

Before he could get out his sentence, there was a commotion from the stairwell that instantly had all three of them on edge. Ventus took three steps back to peer out of the kitchen toward the front door, which now stood wide open letting in the cold. That had been closed when he passed it. 

Two more steps and much wider vision outside confirmed it. A black mass stood outside in the front yard, surrounded by twirling blue emotions. 

What was Vanitas doing up already…?

“What was that?” Aqua asked, coming around to see. Vanitas normally stayed up late and awoke late, favoring the dark. So it was no wonder if she wasn’t expecting him already. Nevermind that he was normally significantly quieter…

“Uh… I guess Vanitas is up.”

Aqua and Terra split a look, but Ventus was too busy watching his other half. Vanitas had been living with them for almost two years now, studying alongside him and Kairi to be a Master. He had mellowed out significantly since being released from Master Xehanort’s control, finding comfort in sullen silences and snarky one liners. He acted aloof most of the time—sometimes he’d show some positive emotion, and he spent enough time with Ventus that he knew what his laugh and amusement and smile was like, but little else.

And this?

This was none of that. 

Starkly black against the white falling snow, Vanitas stood out like a sore thumb. His head was pitched to the sky, and when Ventus got closer, he saw his mouth hanging open. He looked entirely astounded. By what? The snow?

“Whatcha doin’, Van?” Terra asked when he squeezed past Ventus, leaning against the door frame. 

“Snow,” Vanitas said. 

Aqua hummed and stopped just in front of Terra, leaning back against him. “Yeah. We don’t see it often, so this was a surprise. Came out of nowhere.”

“Snow.”

“I see.”

Apparently realizing that he looked like an idiot, Vanitas closed his mouth and dropped his head to the white stuff at his feet. Aqua had gotten him a nice pair of slippers for his last birthday, which were covering his feet then. “I, uh…” he said, scratching at the place that used to be covered by the chin and headguard, in his hair. “Once we were split, I lived in a desert my whole life, and I don’t remember seeing any before that either. Closest I ever got to—“ he put out his hand to catch falling snowflakes, watching them melt in his palm. “Snow, was a Blizzard spell. But now it’s just happening. ‘S like magic.”

“Distinctly not magic.”

Vanitas shot all three of them a soured look. “You know what I mean.”

Terra and Aqua laughed. Ventus stepped inside to slip into his boots and follow his other half. Annoying as it was, there was nothing quite like someone experiencing their first snow. He stopped several feet away from him, knowing Vanitas would get up to shenanigans as soon as he realized what snowy options were available. 

Vanitas took a step away, not the recoil it used to be so much as taking back his space. However, his roly poly Unversed, the two Blue Sea Salts having a good old fashioned time in their element, did not expect the movement. One had apparently been having the time of its life, and rolled under his feet in just the wrong moment. 

Vanitas tripped and landed in a small snowdrift, his back immediately going rigid and hands flying out of the snow. “C-cold!” 

The other three all laughed again, and since Ventus was closer, he neared and extended his hand. The darker boy took his hand and was hauled to his feet, but the shivering didn’t stop. The Blue Sea Salt at his feet crooned, looking ready for death, but Vanitas’ annoyance with the creatures had drained years ago, and he merely tapped his ankle against it as some sort of reprimand, and left it at that. 

“Hey, Van,” Terra called from his place by the door. “Wanna know what the best thing about snow is?”

Vanitas turned to him, eyes huge with wonder at the clearly far wiser and much more knowledgeable Master. He shoved his hands into his fluffy pajama pockets to try to warm them.

“Terr—“

Ventus glanced over too late. A snowball pelted him in the face and knocked him off his feet, and instantly Vanitas and Terra were bent double, wheezing with laughter at his misfortune. To Ventus’ mortification, he even heard Aqua’s familiar breathy laughter shortly after scolding Terra. 

Helpfully, Vanitas came over and offered his hand, and he didn’t even shove Ventus face-first back into the snow after he helped him up. Instead, the dark-haired teen leaned over and whispered conspiratorially into his ear. 

Ventus’ face split into an ear-to-ear grin. He gathered snow and packed it together, handed it to his other half, and watched him vanish. 

Seconds later, Vanitas appeared above Terra’s head. Rather than smashing it onto his head, though, Vanitas yanked the back of Terra’s shirt from his neck, and shoved the entire mound of snow down it. Terra yelped and danced away, and Vanitas dodge-rolled away from flailing, frantic limbs.

When even Aqua burst into laughter right away, citing Ventus’ attack as “well-deserved retaliation”, it was war. 

Ventus and Vanitas arguably teamed up, packing snowballs and hiding behind heavy bushes, although they spent as much time pelting each other as they did Aqua and Terra. Terra hid behind the banister, collecting his snowballs, and Aqua used her magic to build up a fort of her own. 

Aqua won. Naturally. Or at least, she came out of it covered in less snow than the other three. Ventus surrendered to her warp magic pelting him with snowballs on all sides, all while Vanitas valiantly declared, “you’ll have to kill me, I’ll never give in!” Typical Vanitas. A drift of snow had fallen off the roof and coated poor Terra halfway through the game, which gave him more ammo but also set the cold in that much faster. He had been first to fold. 

Then, the shivers and sniffles set in, and they decided as a collective to head in. Aqua was pretty sure she saw Vanitas dunk Ventus’ head in snow one more time before running in, but she didn’t comment. They were having fun, and she’d never seen Vanitas have so much fun and act so carefree. 

Terra, bless his soul, dumped out all of their chilled mugs of coffee and tea and started on hot chocolate. Aqua went to set a fire in the fireplace, and sent the boys running off to find wool socks and blankets. 

“Well,” Terra asked once they were all bundled in. Ventus was sat between he and Aqua, cradling his mug, while Vanitas was wrapped up in no less than three blankets, chin propped on the coffee table. “How was your first snow? Hate it yet?”

Vanitas turned his face to the side and considered it, squashed against the table. He flexed stiff fingers and toes, then looked out the window. The snow was still falling. “Fun. I think.”

“Great. Then you’re going to love the part where we have to shovel out all of the walking paths and the gummi pad. It’s a thrill.”

Ventus groaned, having totally forgotten about the work that came with it. Vanitas groaned in solidarity and flopped back against the couch. 

“Great. Can’t wait.”

[loki-hargreeves]

Loki’s 12 Days of X-Mas - You Get Stuck in a Blizzard

Author’s Note: This is part of Loki’s 12 days of Christmas. It’s a written advent calendar I’m working on. Also, Endgame and IW NEVER HAPPENED in this story. Natasha, Tony and the others are alive and well, okay?  Warnings: vulgar language, mentions of drowning (no-one dies), a little bit of angst and fluff Word Count: 2,4K Summary: Y/N and Loki are on a mission in Siberia together. A blizzard surprises them and they find themselves in a sticky situation...

Third POV

Siberia, December 21st

“So, you don’t get cold?” Y/N asked Loki, who happened to be her partner on a mission right before Christmas. Since Loki had moved to earth – or Midgard, as he called it – he had actually helped the Avengers. They were still sceptical when it came to him, but Loki wanted to prove he wasn’t the same person he was in 2012. If he was going to stay on earth, he thought he might as well make himself useful.

That’s how he ended up in Siberia with Y/N. She was his friend. She looked past his mistakes and she never seemed to have prejudice when it came to him. They had grown fond of each other really fast, which is why the other Avengers thought it was good to send Loki – a frost giant - and Y/N, someone who trusted him on a mission together. 

Besides, it’s not like everyone in the team noticed there was something going on between them that they didn’t dare explore. Most of them hoped the alone time would finally make the two kiss or at least come clean with their feelings. 

“I do get cold; I just tolerate it far better than others. It never bothered me,” Loki answered, but his last few words sounded more like a question.

Y/N nodded as they kept walking. Natasha had dropped them off 40 kilometres away from a suspected HYDRA base. They couldn’t go any closer without the risk of being caught, so the only option was to walk through the heavy woods and over a frozen lake. As Loki and Y/N were going to the HYDRA base, Natasha and Steve investigated a small village nearby. They were only a call away if the duo needed backup.

It was cold and the wind didn’t make it any better. Y/N had wrapped her arms around her body, her scarf covered half of her face and she was wearing a lot of clothes, yet she was cold. New York winters were nothing compared to the weather up in the North. They were in the polar circle. It was cold and dark, which in a way was good for them to go by unnoticed. She just hated the fact her eyelashes nearly froze together each time she closed her eyes and every breath of cold air made her lungs shiver.

Of course, Loki was just fine.

She had to admit she was slightly jealous of him in the situation, but she didn’t dare complain. She knew how sensitive Loki was when it came to his true nature. He had opened up to her about it and she didn’t want to make him back off.

“Do you think we’ll make it to Stark’s annual Christmas party?” She wondered as they walked in the snow. The snowshoes kept them from sinking in the icy powder.

Loki hadn’t even heard of such a thing. He figured he hadn’t been invited, which really didn’t surprise him. “We’ll see. I must admit, I can’t imagine I’d be upset if I missed out on it.”

What was it with Loki and Tony? Sure, Y/N knew everything about 2012, but she also knew Loki was controlled by Thanos and the mind stone. Bruce knew it, Thor knew it, everyone knew it, but most of them still kept their distance. It bothered Y/N. She had seen just how great Loki was and she wanted the rest to see him too.

Well, if they would make it in time, Y/N would take Loki with her, if he wanted to go. Perhaps, she could make Tony see the other side of the Trickster god?

They walked in silence for a while. It didn’t take long until snow began to fall down from the sky and the tiny snowflakes got caught by the wind. The darkness around them turned white as a blizzard formed, making it impossible to see far in the distance. “Fuck!” Y/N cursed. As if it couldn’t get any worse?

Loki smirked as she heard her curse. Even when she said such profanities, he found her cute. Not that he’d ever admit he thought so, he didn’t think she would ever see him as more than an ally. Sure, they might’ve had a flirty relationship, but Loki assumed that was normal on Midgard. Even friends seemed to cuddle and share beds nowadays. “You know, I could make a magic shield, right?” Loki wondered if she had even thought of that.

She was a few steps ahead of him, so Loki was tailing her. As he finished his sentence, she stopped and tried to squint her eyes in order to see Loki. “Really? Why didn’t you- ah!” She suddenly yelped in surprise which was followed by a loud cracking sound. No one had time to know what was going on until Y/N fell down and water splashed around her, landing on the snow.

The thick ice had betrayed her. Loki knew she had stepped on a weak spot, perhaps even a stream spot, and that there was no way she’d get out of there in all the clothes she was wearing. He leapt towards the hole in the ice and felt relieved when he saw her. She had sunk her daggers on the edge of the hole to keep herself on the surface.

“L-Loki! I-it’s...c-cold!” her voice stuttered as her teeth chattered together. He grabbed her body without any hesitation and pulled her out easily. She let go of her daggers and squeezed her trembling hands around Loki’s arms as he got her out of the water. Soon enough, they were both on the ice safely. Her heavy clothes were soaked with water and he knew it would freeze in only minutes. Loki was just relieved she didn’t drown! Now that she was safe, Loki felt how hard his heart was beating. It scared him, to say at least. It all happened so quick.

But they had to get her inside as fast as possible. Y/N was a mortal, the cold could kill her. “Are you okay?”

“I’m a-awake...that’s f-for sure,” She managed to be sarcastic, even in this moment. She nearly died!

Loki remembered seeing a hut nearby not too long ago. It looked abandoned, old and like a wreck, but perhaps he could get her inside and warm her up? At least, the hut offered a shield from the blizzard. He knew she had to dry those clothes before they could continue.

“Can you walk?” Loki questioned her.

Y/N nodded and clumsily tried to get up. Her soaked clothes were dragging her down and her entire body was quivering relentlessly. “I’m fine.”

One thing was for sure, she was stubborn as hell. Loki knew she didn’t want to admit she needed help, but it wouldn’t stop him from trying. If she died on this mission, everyone would blame him for it anyway. “We’re staying in that hut we saw until you’re warm again. Don’t even try to fight it, Y/N.”

She didn’t say a word as Loki wrapped his arm around her to help her stay on her feet. To make their way a little easier, Loki created a shield around them that kept the blizzard from storming down on them. Silence surrounded them as they walked. Minutes passed, but Loki knew they were getting close. He had good orienteering skills. He wasn’t too worried, until suddenly she stopped shivering. It confused him. “Y/N?” Loki saw how tired she looked. Her eyes were drowsy, and her lips had turned ashy. Her eyelashes were white from the frost and even her hair began to freeze. It didn’t seem promising.

“I’m feeling much better, Loki,” Y/N let him know tiredly. Her words came out as a slur, almost as if she was drunk. Loki’s heart clenched in his chest. He had seen this before, long ago. It was during the time Vikings still walked the soil on Midgard. He had visited a village in Norway out of curiosity. It was wintertime. Some men had been fishing and nearly ten grown Viking men had fallen through the ice. They had been brought back to the village and everyone tried to warm them up. They had hypothermia; Loki knew the term. The fire and blankets hadn’t helped too much, but he remembered their wives cuddling them. Apparently, skin to skin contact worked magic on the frozen men.

Finally, after what felt like forever, he saw the hut. He doubted anyone was inside and even if someone was there, it wouldn’t stop Loki. “You’ll be alright very soon, I’ll make sure of that,” Loki assured her and kicked the wooden door open. It was dark and quiet inside. Once they got past the door, he shut it tightly. With some magic, he lit up he small hut and noticed it wasn’t occupied. There was a small bed in the corner with sheets that were most likely covered in dust, a small fireplace, some firewood, a tiny kitchen corner without a fridge and a door that probably led to a toilet. It wasn’t fancy, but it was good enough.

Loki lit the fireplace and used his magic to clean the dust. He hated cleaning, so he had taught himself cleaning tricks. It definitely came in handy. Now he had to get Y/N out of her clothes. He really hoped she wouldn’t hate him for saving her life. After all, they were about to get really close. It was far from formal.

“I need to get these off you, darling,” Loki explained to the woman who could barely keep her eyes open. She sat on the floor by the fireplace and her eyes were locked at the flames. She seemed awfully lost, confused. The Siberian winter was clearly as dangerous as Natasha had explained. Y/N was suffering from hypothermia after only less than half an hour. As if she hadn’t been freezing cold beforehand.

She didn’t seem to mind when Loki tore off her jacket and made it levitate so it could dry. He took off her gloves, her scarf, her beanie and then he helped her get rid off her outdoor pants. He noticed that the clothes she had worn underneath were just as cold and wet, so he undressed her until she was in her underwear. He had never thought this was how he’d undress her, which admittedly he had thought of a few times. Right now, was not the time for his mind to lure him. Y/N needed help. She didn’t mind it at all. In fact, she leapt into his arms and her body began to shiver again, which was a good sign.

Something about it made Loki’s restless heart beat a little harder. He felt so protective over her and holding her in his arms made him feel good. She trusted him, which meant to world to him. “Are you alright?” Loki wanted to make sure he wasn’t pushing any boundaries.

Y/N nodded and held onto him tighter. Loki used his magic to rid himself of his cold clothes until he too was in his underwear. Oddly enough, it didn’t bother him too much. He was just happy to hold her. He wrapped the blanket around them and then he got down on the bed, which was close to the fireplace, as said he hut was small. Y/N rested her head on his chest and the blanket secured them warmly.

Now they just lay there. Loki rubbed his arm up and down her back gently, hoping to warm up her cold skin. It didn’t really sink into his mind until now just how quickly she could’ve died. The water would’ve swallowed her in her heavy suit and even if it didn’t, if Y/N was alone, the cold would’ve done the deed eventually. It was scary just how easily she could be gone. Loki hated the thought of that. He didn’t want to imagine anything bad happening to her. She was special. Even if it wasn’t for him, he wanted her to be happy and well. Mortals only lived so long, it would be a shame if she had died this early on. Now that they were cuddling, he felt relieved. He was so glad the team decided to make them work together on this mission.

“Thank you,” Y/N whispered after a few minutes. A comfortable silence had surrounded them for a while.

Loki smiled, which she couldn’t see “I couldn’t let you freeze to death, now could I?” He tried to sound like he didn’t care too much. He didn’t want his feelings to scare her off, especially now that they were huddled up in only their underwear. Loki was scared his kindness would make him look like a creep.

But she knew he wasn’t like that. She saw good in him and especially now, she adored him. Sure, Y/N had crushed on Loki, but who could blame her? He was amazing. Now she was eternally grateful for him. Loki had saved her life. Besides, she couldn’t complain. Being so close under a blanket in a small hut, just listening to his heartbeat and the rustling fire wasn’t too bad. Loki didn’t have to know she enjoyed it a little bit too much.

They were both so oblivious.

It didn’t take long until they both dozed off. Y/N fell asleep first. It was comfortable to fall into a slumber when Loki was rubbing her back. Also, her body was slowly regaining warmth. The experience had drained her energy, so no one could really blame her for being tired.

Loki was happy she could rest. His heart was full of joy when he heard her relaxed breathing. He had never thought anyone would trust him enough to fall asleep with him. People were so vulnerable in their slumber. For him, it meant a lot. Only a few moments later, Loki’s eyelids felt heavy too. He relaxed with her being safely in his arms. Luckily, they weren’t a hurry. A little nap together would harm no one. Before he dared close his eyes, he put a spell on the door to keep it shut. Then he pressed a gentle kiss on Y/N’s head, wishing dearly she was asleep. Finally, he closed his eyes too and joined her in dreamland.

Little did Loki know Y/N felt the kiss. She was half asleep when she felt his lips on her head. Whether it was a friendly gesture or not, it melted her heart. Who would’ve thought Loki was such a softie? At least, when it came to her.

Author’s Note:  I wanted to make this a smut, but it’s a Christmas fic so I didn’t. Maybe in a part 2? if I ever make one. So, a penny for your thoughts? :)

[thewingedwolf]

I feel like Theonsa was the closest a sansa ship that ever got to be canon and I would like to take another moment to be pettily happy about that. I know he dead in the show anyways BUT we got snow cuddling and him coming back for her and them spending the night before they thought they were gonna die together

[gauntie-o-dimm]

Regis | Fluttershy

Prompt: “It’s freezing out here, let’s find shelter.” Word count: 2400+ Warnings: Smut, swearing

Frostbite was gnawing on my fingers, chewing on the sensitive skin around my nails as I pulled my scarf tighter around me. I shivered uncontrollably, not able to see anything further than an inch away from my face. It was unclear on how Regis and I had ended up in a snowstorm while on our way to inspect an old arcane tower of a long deceased author I absolutely adored on the cold lands of Ard Skellig, it had stuck us as lightning out of nothing. One moment, the sky was blue, birds singing their songs, not a problem in sight. A second after, snow started to fall, no, hail on us with its icy fingers, slipping under our armor , chilling us to the bone. 'Regis?' I yelled over the sound of the blizzard, searching for the vampire through narrowed eyes. '(Y/n), I am here!' He shouted back, a partially gloved hand with arced nails reaching out for me. I grabbed it, Regis' grip immediately firm and surprisingly warm. 'Hold onto me!' 'I can't see anything!'

He halted in his tracks so he could walk right next to me, his hand still not releasing mine. 'Nor can I, dear. We only need to get through this.' I could hear him tremble. I had to resist the urge to just embrace him to warm him up, for I knew it wouldn't work for longer than a few seconds. Regis' eyelashes were covered in snowflakes, and part of me almost laughed at the idea of an icicle that could hang under his nose, but it would only mean that the poor thing would be colder if this was the case. His palm was warm against mine, but furthermore all I felt was cold, unbearable cold. Soon, we would die of hypothermia. 'It's freezing out here, let's find shelter!' I yelled, Regis squeezing my hand tighter. 'We really should! Follow me!'

The snow started to die down, now slowly fluttering through the sky, though we didn't have a single warm thread on our clothes anymore. Just now we could see the damage the cold had done to our bodies. Regis' face was red and puffy, his eyes still half lidded as exhaustion hit him. I assumed my face looked the same, or at least it felt like it.

'There!' I followed Regis' gaze. Bingo.

He had found a little cave deep enough to make a fire and become a bit warmer again. A relieved sigh left my lips as I put down my bag and shook the snow from my (h/c) hair. 'Thank the gods I got dry wood and some tinder on me.' Regis muttered while reaching for his pouch, taking out a few old branches. 'They aren't large, but at least it is something.' I knelt down, helping him ignite it. He shivered audibly, his teeth chattering as he held his palms fruitlessly in front of the fire. 'Got any dry shirts?' I nodded, getting up to fetch him one. 'Here you go.' A thankful smile spread over his face as he took the linen shirt from me. 'Is this my size?' 'Of course it is. You are too forgetful sometimes, and someone has to look after you.' He chuckled, giving me a toothy grin before standing up. 'Turn around, I am going to undress.' I raised an eyebrow, putting a hand on my hip. 'I'd rather watch.' A tinge of red grew on his face. 'Fine.' I sighed, turning around. I could hear him strip, his heavy coat falling to the floor of the cave. I peeked over my shoulder, my bottom lip slipping between my teeth. His bare back had some freckles here and there, goosebumps covering his pale skin. My gaze went down to inspect his bottom, which was fine to stare at. I smirked as he pulled the dry shirt over his head, quickly retreating from my watching position. 'Done.' he spoke and I spun to him, an innocent smile on my lips. 'Let's sit.' We took place next to the tiny, cracking fire which didn't provide many heat, our back resting against the walls of the cave. In my mind, an idea formed. 'Here, I have something to keep us warm.' From my backpack, I took a blanket. Surprisingly, it was still dry. 'It's not very large.' Regis commented. I smiled. 'The more reason we have to cuddle.' Regis visibly swallowed and scooted closer to me as soon as I gestured him to do so while I draped the soft fabric over our bodies. My arms wrapped themselves around the vampire, who was tensing up under my touch. 'What are you so nervous for, love?' He let out a shaky laugh. 'Nothing, darling.' He wrapped an arm around me, but not in a casual way. I frowned, laying my head on his shoulder. 'What's bothering you?' 'Nothing.' Regis said, too quickly. I put my hand on his thigh to comfort him, but it only earned me a muffled grunt from his throat. I withdrew my hand quickly, searching his face for an explanation. 'Are you hurt?' Regis shook his head, his nose dusted in a pink hue.

'I am not, it is nothing.' 'Show me.' 'I said, it is nothing!'

I forced the blanket away from our laps, the vampire fighting it. One way or the other, I managed to win this little battle, showing a small smirk of victory before letting my gaze fall to his leg. There was indeed... Absolutely nothing. Until my eyes went slightly upwards, to his lap. And then it hit me. My stomach fluttered immediately as I let out a light laugh. 'You have a boner.' Regis hummed embarrassed, hiding his face from me. 'Regis, love...' I whispered, licking my lips while putting a finger under his chin in an attempt to force him to look at me. A battle which I yet again won, yet his eyes averted from mine. 'Regis...' The shade on his cheeks had became more crimson. My left hand cupped his cheek, the thumb rubbing against his sideburns. 'What are you so shy for?' 'Sometimes I feel so old, what ever did such a beautiful lady like you ever see in an old vampire like myself...? You can have men so much better than me, yet you chose me.' I let out a little chuckle. 'Oh, Regis... Stop that. I love you, I made the right choice. There is no need to be flustered. It isn't like the first time we have sex... We have been courting for half a decade now, for goodness sake!' Regis was finally brave enough to meet my gaze. 'Now is not an appropriate time. We'll freeze to death!' 'We have each others body warmth and the fire. That might be enough to not get cold.' Regis hadn't lost the shy look on his face yet. 'I really ponder often why you chose me.' 'And you shouldn't be so doubtful about yourself.' One of my hands traced circles over his thigh, making his breath hitch. 'It's very cold. We should try to sleep.'

I rolled my eyes, knowing it wouldn't begin from his side tonight so I had to make the move. I smashed my lips onto his, earning a surprised gasp from the vampire. He soon responded and returned the gesture. I kissed him for a good minute before pulling back, inhaling deeply. 'Make love to me.' He blinked, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair from my face. 'If you are sure, then I wouldn't want anything else.' he responded, claiming my mouth with his. Tiny grunts left him when I climbed onto his lap, grinding against his boner as I sat down. I threw my arms around his neck, my lips moving against his in sync, his sharp teeth nipping at them every now and then. His tongue explored my mouth, wrestling with mine for dominance. Regis tugged at my (h/c) locks, dragging his hands through the wet, still snow covered hair. I bucked my hips, earning a muffled groan.

Slowly, he started to kiss my neck, almost biting down in the skin. I mewled as he found my sweet spot, which he started to pepper in an endless amount of kisses. My fingers started to peel off his shirt, making him pull back to let me do my work. The goosebumps were back and my hands roamed over his chest, down his abdomen to softly squeeze the bulge that was visible in his pants. Regis' face was covered in a crimson blush, his eyes dark as they fell shut when my palm cupped his covered member. He gritted his teeth, hissing as I massaged the hard lump. I had started to undo his belt, but he stopped me by grabbing my wrists. 'Now am I nearly completely undressed and you are still fully clothed. That seems hardly fair.' I smiled, giving a peck on his lips as he began taking my armor off me. It was still soaked in snow, so my skin was cold when he threw it away aimlessly. He rubbed his hands up and down my sides in an attempt to warm me up a bit. I leaned in to kiss him again, still sitting on his lap.

Regis slowly removed my trousers and panties, leaving me naked and shivering. I studied his face, his admiring eyes as they looked at my body, his dreamy smile as he faced me. 'You're so beautiful.' I blushed, hiding my flustered face in his neck before giving the skin a few pecks. 'Just fuck me already.' I whispered. He smiled, caressing my back softly. 'I still need to take off my pants, though.' 'Oh, right.' I climbed off his legs, helping him get rid of them before pulling down his underwear. His erection stood up straight, shimmering in the light of the fire. I smirked and raised an eyebrow at him as he blushed. I took his glistening cock in my hand, pumping it a few times to get a reaction out of the vampire. Regis groaned, his penis jerking as I teasingly pressed my palm against his testicles, my fingers softly grazing against the little patch of silver pubic hair. His tip was leaking already, so I spread the precum all over the base. Regis sighed deeply, grabbing my arm. 'Oh, (Y/n), just come here.' I did as he said, straddling his lap before easing myself down onto his hard cock. I shut my eyes in pure bliss. I didn't have to adjust to him anymore, for we had done this many times before. Regis took ahold of my waist, wrapping his strong arms around me tightly. I embraced him as well, my hands on his shoulders, my bosom pressed against his chest. My stiff nipples against him made Regis blush. I was sitting on his legs now. I draped my legs around him so we were tightly entangled and I could inspect every crevice of his flustered face. Slowly, Regis started to move, his hands under my butt to lift me onto and off his cock. I moaned softly, shutting my eyes as the erotic sound of sloppy thrusts echoed through the cave. Regis' breaths were uneven, hitching in his throat as he sped me up. I buried my face in his neck, listening to his heart beating in his throat, his struggles as he tried to swallow saliva, his tiny gasps that escaped him.

Regis was absolutely beautiful every time we made love, the way his body would tremble in every movement, or how his face changed in pleasure as I moved against him moaning, fully engulfing his cock with my vagina, the tip grazing against the back of my womanhood. He kissed my neck between whispers of how much he loved me and how beautiful I was, speeding up his thrusts. He didn't seem troubled to keep lifting me up and down on his penis, but never the less I bucked my hips, my clit teased by his thumb, the sensitive bud screaming for more. His sweaty skin was sticky against mine as he pulled me into him, his thrusts quickening. I moaned, feeling juices escape and run down our thighs. '(Y-Y/n)...' Regis stuttered, his eyes shut tightly. I pressed a kiss against his lips, his tongue swiftly slipping into my mouth. I hummed lowly, my walls starting to clamp around his length.

'Regis, I am going to cum...' I breathed into his ear softly, my hands finding support on his chest to grind myself against him again and again. He grunted, his nose nuzzling against my neck as his nails dug into my buttocks, speeding up even more. 'Cum for me, (Y/n).' He rubbed my clitoris again, just enough to let me see stars as I released all over him. The knot in my stomach exploded and my body had started to shake uncontrollably, making Regis chuckle lightly. '(Y/n), you're so beautiful...' I gasped as my high finished, the vampire still slipping in and out of me, his member still rock hard. I felt it had started to throb and I knew he was close to his release. Regis breathed my name as I continued grinding against him, the tip of his cock starting to ooze cum. Regis still held onto my butt as he spasmed a few moments as his seed spilled inside of me, sperm leaking out of my vagina as he pulled his now limp member out. Regis panted heavily, his voice husky as he whispered that he loved me. 'I love you too.' I told him, kissing him sensually as he reached out for something next to him.

The next thing I felt was a blanket being draped over my shoulders. Regis cupped my cheeks, his breaths still uneven as they hit my face while his dark eyes inspected me, every crevice and dimple. After a few seconds, he slipped his bottom lip between his teeth. 'I can't help but think you're a goddess. You're gorgeous, so absolutely gorgeous...' I blushed, snuggling into him. 'Regis...' I whispered, putting my head against his chest as exhaustion washed over me. The vampire shifted, pulling me down into a laying position, making me yelp in surprise as I landed on top of him. 'Sssh...' Regis hushed, 'Just try to sleep, alright?' I smiled, kissing his collarbone. 'Alright. Sleep well, Regis.' 'Sweet dreams, my dearest (Y/n).' I just listened to his heartbeat until it lulled me to sleep.

[tellcardtowrite]

Sam/Dean snowed in, please? c:

Day one was fat, flat snowflakes drifting in lazy swirls across the broken pavement of the motel sidewalk.  The Impala was groaning in relief at the end of another long drive followed a series of humiliating beatings at the hands of a couple of ghouls that shouldn’t have gotten the drop on them.  Dean was clutching the wound on his side with a stupid smile on his face and a fifth of whiskey tucked into the corner of his arm.  His face was pallid from cold and blood loss but his lips were pinked-up in the cold as he smiled, “it’s snowing,” like it was a lost wonder of the fucking world.

“Yeah,” Sam said.  “That’s great.”  He ducked into the backseat to grab the bags, the food and the medical kit before motioning toward the door.  “I think you’ve lost too much blood.”

“Listen,” Dean said like he was a philosopher, a real-live deep thinker, “it’s quiet, Sammy.  It’s always quiet when it snows.”

Sam got the door open with the rusty key the disinterested desk girl gave them and dropped everything on the old folding card table by the door.  The interior of the room smelled like corn chips and the dusty white stuff they put in carpets to vacuum the stench out.  When his hands were free he leaned back out the door to grab Dean by the jacket and drag him in.  “You hate the snow, Dean,” he said like it even needed saying.

“I never said that,” was Dean’s retort but he fell over almost instantly when Sam pushed him on the bed and mumbled to himself as his blood-slick fingers clutched at the wound in his side.  “I like the snow,” he said.  “I always have.”

–

Day two was a quick run to the nearest grocery store, standing in lines feeling conspicuously tall and memorable while he scanned newspaper headlines looking for any signs of a recent massacre at a graveyard.  The whole damn place was full of people with sour faces buying bread and milk and beer like they would never get the chance again.  

He smiled at the check-out woman as she rolled her eyes at him and the snow fell in sheets just beyond the storefront.

–

Day three, Dean woke up from his liquor-and-blood-loss stupor with a groan of disagreement about the bed he’d been sleeping on for two days.  The smell of the leftover food in the trash was making Sam nauseated but Dean said, “I’m starving.”  

“Well,” Sam said because he was bored without internet or TV and the radio coming in half-static.  He was bored of white beyond the windows as the snow fell (undaunted) trapping them in the town they’d just killed half a dozen human-looking ghouls in.  “That’s all we’ve got until this story quits so don’t eat it all at once.”

Dean was squinting out through the shitty curtains at the piles of snow that blanketed everything in a great, indecipherable white heap.  The Impala was there in that nondescript landscape, taking up space but offering no clear escape routes.  “How long has it been snowing?” Dean asked.  “How long have I been out?” like it was the question he meant to ask, head turned and eyes wide as he waited for Sam to look back at him.

“Days,” was Sam’s answer.  

–

Night Three was a spread of gun parts left sitting on the counter, the restless sound of Dad’s journal being leafed through and a solitary game of solitaire that Sam didn’t have the time or patience to bother with.  It was there anyway, taking up space on the card table by the front window.  

Dean was sipping his fifth of whiskey while he read every stupid word their father left for them.  His lips were mouth words while his forehead rolled up in wrinkles.  

Sam was bored-out-of-his-mind; stone-cold sober and tired.  “I don’t know what you think you’re going to find in there,” he said (again, for the sixth or seventh or eight-hundredth time).

Dean was the oldest, infinite and patient, saying, “Maybe I just like reading it, Sammy.  Plan your–cards.”

–

Day four dawned white and cold, the snow an unrelenting reality beyond the window.  It wasn’t a blizzard but a drizzle of snowflakes.  The radio was reminding citizens to exercise caution and urging people to stay inside and warm.  The list of closings rattled on-and-on, announcing churches and bus stations and city offices.  The malls and the stores and the schools were all closed.  The longer the announcer spoke, the more-and-more certain it seemed that the whole world had reached a stand still.

Everything but Dean, sitting in the old chair at the card table, putting his guns back together.

–

The fourth night was unbearable.  The food was nothing but leftovers reheated with new condiments, an extra dash of pepper on the congealed cake that had been ramen noodles (maybe) earlier in the day.  Dean was restless without his liquor and Sam was picking at the table-top for lack of anything better to do.

“Why’d you get us stuck here?” Dean demanded (again).  “If we’d just driven out of her that night.”

“You’d be dead,” Sam finished, “but hey, I wouldn’t have to listen to you whine.”

–

It was near-midnight, long after dark and they pretense of going to sleep, Dean was humming to himself and Sam was thinking uncharitable thoughts about how he’d like to strangle his brother.  The (stilled, stunted, unbearable) quiet was interrupted only by the mattress whining as Dean shifted. 

–

“We could make it to the interstate,” Dean said from the open doorway of the motel room.  He was wearing every coat he owned (both of them) and neither of them were enough to fight against the biting chill.  

“The interstate is closed,” Sam said.  “Face it, man.  We’re not going anywhere.”

“This is ridiculous!” Dean shouted at the snow, “we can kill fricking ghouls and werewolves and fight ghosts and exorcise demons but we get taken down by snow?”  He shouted a wordless scream into the white void and then slammed the door.  “Well what about food?  There’s got to be something open we can get to.”

–

On the afternoon of day five, they spent their last five dollars on a harvest of snack-cakes and a single soda.  Their dinner was a sugary, gross mess divided evenly between them.  The hunger gnawing at Sam’s gut wouldn’t budge for Little Debbies or the steady stream of water he’d been drinking to fill up the space.  Dean was disgruntled with chocolate cake on his teeth and water in his glass.

–

Dean kissed him between the bathroom and the bed, catching him after he brushed his teeth and before he took off his belt to sleep.  The motion was as abrupt as getting punched in the face, but Sam’s hands were fisted up in Dean’s closed with the same violence.  It was easy (so, so, terribly) easy to coil his arm around Dean’s shoulders, to tuck him tight in against his body and kiss him with no regard for propriety or their dead-father’s-journal eyeing them from the table by the window.  

“I thought we weren’t doing this,” Sam said when they were gasping for air.  

Dean was hot-everywhere, shrugging up with indecision, pink-faced with lust or shame (or both) as his hands dropped to Sam’s belt.  “Well, what else are we going to do?” he asked.  Like it was inevitable, like the snow had forced them to do it.  Sam could have argued the point for six-and-a-half more months and never gotten Dean to admit he wanted it but there was no liquor on Dean’s breath and nothing to blame but the weather.  

It was as close as they’d ever come to touching the truth.  “Right,” he agreed when he kissed Dean again.  What else were they going to do.

[thewingedwolf]

Anyways okay so if I was rich, I would splurge on two (1) clothing items and that is

(1) Sansa’s pretty purple leaf pattern dress/coat/whatever thing

(2) Frodo’s gorgeous patterned waistcoat from Bilbo’s birthday party

[thewingedwolf]

Anyways can’t wait for the book to come out and it turns out I was right and the north will be ruled by my boy bran and his close advisors Sansa and Arya (Rickon is alive and chilling and safe not doing anything important bc he deserves a break) and he will be with them and happy and the three of them will not leave each other’s sides again

[thewingedwolf]

for character song thing: Sansa, Raven, and/or Athena

I’ll do all three!

Sansa: You know I’ve got a couple of songs for Starks in general that fit sansa very well - the emily kinney and Lauren Cohan version of the parting glass, endless night from the lion king, broken crown by mumford & sons

But I didn’t have any for Sansa herself! I feel super bad about that!! But anyway I have decided on nature vs nurture by tei shi

Athena: Well brass goggles with always be my number one for her but I’ve said that one for her before SO born free by mia

Raven: crazy = genius by panic! at the disco