#fully blanketed snowy ground from before

[togrowoldinv]

Snowy Day

Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

You help Natasha see how fun a snow day can be

Note: Very soft Nat here. We got a lot of snow where I live and have been enjoying playing in it. Y’all enjoy!

Natasha Masterlist 1, Natasha Masterlist 2, Natasha Masterlist 3, Main Masterlist

“Natasha,” you whisper as you run your hand over her arm.

Her response is just a soft mumble. She pulls the blankets further up her body and snuggles deeper into the bed.

“Natasha, wake up,” you try again.

“What’s wrong?” She asks, her voice riddled with sleepiness.

“It’s snowing.”

No response comes from the redhead. She simply rotates to look at you.

“It’s snowing,” you repeat. “And it’s the perfect day for a snow day.”

“A snow day? Just a day with snow?” Nat asks. She’s starting to wake up more now.

“No, a snow day. A day we can get outside and do all of the fun things to do in this weather,” you explain.

Her brow raises in question. You know for a fact she’s seen snow many of times, but it dawns on you that she’s maybe never had a fun day playing in it.

“Have you not ever-“

“No,” she interrupts. And then adds, “What about my life indicates I’d have a fun day in the snow?”

There’s an edge to her voice. She didn’t mean it to come out so harsh. You frown and lay back on your pillow. Nat leans up on her elbow and leans down closer to you.

“I’m sorry, baby,” she says. “You woke me up excited and I’ve brought you down.”

“No, it’s okay. I just- I didn’t think about you not having the same kind of life as me. I’m sorry.”

“We’re good, y/n.”

Natasha leans down and kisses your lips softly. You feel her love for you spread through your body. Her soft touches linger on your skin even moments after she’s stopped kissing you.

“What does this snow day entail?” She asks.

You smile so bright that she can’t help but match it.

“Really? You want to do it?”

“I do,” she agrees.

And so, you tell her about everything you want to do today. There’s probably too many on the list, but you can’t help from excitedly saying everything that comes to mind.

The two of you ease into the morning before the big day. You find the biggest, warmest outerwear you have and help Natasha bundle up too.

“First, before our hands get cold and faces freeze let’s take some photos,” you say, getting your phone out.

Natasha appeases and smiles wide for every single photo. She takes your phone and takes some solo photos of you posing in the snow.

“Now, what would you like to do next? Build a snowman?”

“Sure,” Natasha says.

You show her how to start rolling up the snow and she gets the hang of it quickly. Not to your surprise, she’s good at everything. The two of you stack the giant snowballs together and make the perfect shape of a snowman.

“What should we decorate it with?” You ask her. She shrugs. “Do you happen to keep a magical hat around?”

“Oh, I think Wanda could conjure something up,” Natasha says, being fully serious.

“Natasha, do you know about Frosty the Snowman?”

“Oh.”

Then she bursts out laughing. You join in.

“I know about Frosty!” She says. “I just forgot.”

“You’re so very cute, baby,” you tell her.

“Shucks,” she says.

You kiss her cheek and then actually get to work on decorating the snowman. No magic is involved except for the love in the air as you two work.

After that, you know it’s getting time to go inside and warm up for a bit. But first, you practically throw yourself onto the ground.

“What are you doing?” Natasha asks. She stands over you and smiles in your direction.

“Come here!” You reach up for her and pull her down to the ground.

You fall into a fit of laughter as you tangle with her and pin her to the ground. Her red hair cascades over the white snow.

“You are so beautiful,” you tell her.

“Yeah?”

“One hundred percent. I love you, Natasha.”

Natasha’s face contorts into some mixture of a smile and a frown at how sweet you’re being. You brush your fingertips over her cheeks that are dusted in pink from the cold.

“I love you too, y/n.”

“Snow angel time?” You ask.

“Show me how,” Natasha says happily.

It’s simple, but Natasha pays apt attention to you as you show her how to move her arms and legs to make it look just right.

“The trick is getting up without messing it up,” you explain.

“I can handle it,” Natasha says confidently.

You chuckle, but unsurprisingly Natasha does get up stealthily and the snow around her angel still looks untouched.

It doesn’t take much convincing to get Natasha back inside and making hot chocolate so you can warm up. You settle together on a couch next to the fireplace.

“Are you enjoying your snow day?” You ask Nat. She holds you close.

“Mhm,” Nat hums. “Thank you for today.”

“Of course. I’m really happy,” you say, meaning more than just about today.

“I’m happy too,” Nat says. She kisses the top of your head. “We should get married.”

“What?” You lift your head off her shoulder and look at her.

“Yeah. Let’s get married,” Natasha says again.

“Right now?”

“I mean, why not? It’s snowing and it’s beautiful outside. We love today. Why not?”

Natasha stands up from the couch and starts walking down the hallway to her room.

“Natasha Romanoff, I never thought you’d be so spontaneous!” You call after her.

It takes her a minute to come back into view.

“Well, I love you and I want to marry you,” Natasha shrugs. “I should probably propose formally though, huh?”

She drops to her knee in front of you and takes a ring box out of her pocket. She opens it.

“Oh, Natasha..”

“So maybe it’s not that spontaneous, but I have been waiting for the right time,” Natasha starts. “I promise to love you forever. Will you marry me? Please?”

“Yes, yes. Without a doubt, yes!” You can’t help but shout.

Natasha slips the ring on your finger and you kiss her until you can’t breathe. You’re both so happy.

“Wait, what about a ring for you? If we’re getting married, I need a ring for you,” you say.

“Maybe Tony could make one up? Just a simple band,” Natasha suggests.

“Definitely,” you agree. “Let’s go get the team, get the party planned, and get married.”

“Best snow day ever?” Natasha asks.

“Best snow day ever.”

You and Natasha will never forget the first day she played in the snow, and the day your lives were changed forever for the better.

[faistoconnors]

Snow Day - A. Donaldson x Reader

Warnings: Pure fluff. Could be read as Christmas-oriented but not mentioned! As per usual, unedited. No use of Y/N!

Word Count: 830

Pairing: Art Donaldson x Fem! Reader (no pronouns used but reader is called 'mommy' by their daughter)

Summary: A peaceful, snowy morning with Art and your daughter.

A/N: Despite living in Wisconsin, we have no snow on the ground :( so this is just wishful thinking really.

You’re awoken quite rudely. There’s a small hand, frantically tapping at your shoulder, accompanied by a voice. 

“Mommy,” your daughter whispers. She smacks her hand against your shoulder again, and finally, you open your eyes fully and blink the sleep away. Willow’s face is lit up in a grin that’s missing several teeth, her eyes sparkling. Your husband is still fast asleep beside you, turned over on his side, but Willow doesn’t allow you the same luxury. 

“Mommy, there’s snow,” she breathes out, almost reverent, and it all clicks. Quietly, you stand up from bed, tugging on a thick bathrobe and your slippers. Even with the heating, there’s still a frosty chill in the house. Willow’s hand fits into your own, and she drags you over to the window, pulling back the curtain just slightly. True to her word, the world outside is blanketed entirely in white. She lets out a quiet giggle, pressing her face up to the windowpane and watching as it fogs up. 

The two of you head to the kitchen together, and you help the girl up onto one of the stools, fixing her a bowl of cereal. 

“What do you say we make some hot chocolate together? We’ll save some for your dad when he wakes up,” you suggest, and somehow, she lights up even more. 

When the milk is set to heat up on the stove, the hot cocoa powder in its place on the counter nearby, you settle down at the island beside her to have your own breakfast. Willow’s long since finished hers, and she wanders over to the large bay window, sitting down and staring out of it. She’s practically vibrating with anticipation, and you know she’s itching to go outside, but a warm drink and some proper gear are in order before that can happen.

A pair of hands settle at your waist, and you look back to see a flash of blond hair and a flannel pajama set. Art plants a kiss on your cheek before moving over to the stove, wordlessly settling in to help you make the cocoa. As he finishes and pours the liquid into three travel mugs, he gives you a bright smile that reminds you so much of the girl who’s sitting close by. 

“Good morning,” he murmurs, returning to your side and putting an arm around your waist. His eyes are still tired, but you know he never sleeps well without you by his side, so it was inevitable that he’d woken up. 

“Morning,” you reply. “There’s snow.” 

He grins, letting out a quiet laugh. “I figured, from the way Willow-bug has glued herself to the window.” 

At the mention of her name, Willow turns back around, hopping up and flying through the living room back into the kitchen. She wraps her arms around Art’s legs and tugs on his hand. 

“Get me dressed so we can go outside?” she pleads eagerly, and how could either of you say no to that face? Art smooths a hand over her hair, nodding. 

“Let your mommy and I get dressed too, alright? Then we’ll all be ready.” 

She nods in a heartbeat, bouncing off to the window again while you and Art go to put your winter clothes on. 

“It feels ridiculous to go out in the snow so early on a Saturday morning,” you say fondly, and he agrees. 

“She was like this last winter too,” he grins. It’s true; last winter was the year you had moved to a place where it actually snows, and Willow had been over the moon. Of course, that time, she’d also bolted straight outside in her pajamas and played for half an hour, catching a terrible cold shortly after. It was a blessing she was slightly more patient this time around. 

When all three of you are bundled up and ready, Willow leads the way out the front door into the big yard. When you turn your back for just a moment to close the door, there’s a quiet whack noise, and the feeling of something hitting your back. Slowly rotating, you spot your daughter, mischievous smile on her face, hands behind her back. Art looks off down the driveway in faux-ignorance, though his shoulders are shaking with a laugh. 

Silently, you lift up a snowball in your own hand, and pitch it, though you’re unable to match the skill of your tennis-player husband. Still, it hits him square in the back of his head, pieces falling off down his neck into his coat, and he yelps. 

He turns to look at you with an expression of shock and determination, and you know you’ve done it now. 

Soon, the driveway will have to be shoveled, the roof cleared off of the heavy snow, the outdoor furniture brought to the garage. But for now, the three of you enjoy your time together, waging frosty war and warming hands with cups of cocoa until it’s time to head in.

[hyperactively-me]

winter snowball fight with simon ☃️❄️🌨️ warnings: none

The snowfall from last night had left the world a winter wonderland. 

You had gotten dressed quickly, pulling on your snow gear to brave the freezing world outside. Simon grumbled about it being too cold outside, but once you stepped one single toe out the door he was following right behind you. 

The crisp air hits you as soon as you step outside, and you bask in the invigorating feeling of winter air. Your snow-covered front yard glistens under the soft glow of sun barely peeking behind from clouds, and the houses on the quiet street wear a blanket of white. Simon, now fully bundled up, grumbles something about the freezing cold, but his eyes twinkle with excitement.

With a mischievous grin, you grab a handful of snow and roll it into a compact ball. Simon raises an eyebrow, realizing your intentions, and the next moment, he’s on high alert, ready to defend himself from your impending attack. 

With a giggle, you throw the snowball at Simon, fully expecting him to dodge it effortlessly. To your surprise, the snowball finds its mark, hitting him square in the chest. Simon lets out a dramatic gasp, looking down at the snow now sliding off his chest. You burst out laughing, surprised that he didn’t dodge your throw. 

“Oh, you’re in for it now,” Simon laughs, bending down to roll snowballs. 

“Okay, big guy, bring it on,” you chuckle, backing away and bending down to quickly gather your own snowballs. 

Simon stands, snowball in hand, and adopts a mock serious expression. You both lock eyes for a moment, and then, with a burst of energy, Simon starts hurling snowballs straight at you. 

You’re hit several times, shrieking with faux fear as he grins at you with an evil look in his eye.

You squeal when a few whiz past your head, holding your arms up to avoid getting hit in the face. Determined not to be outdone, you frantically gather your snowballs in your arms and start to throw them as hard as you can back at Simon. Simon, still grinning, continues his attack, but you skillfully dodge his throws, weaving left and right.

“Is that all you’ve got?” you tease, narrowly avoiding a snowball whizzing past your ear.

Simon smirks, undeterred. “This is just the warm-up, obviously. ‘M going easy on you right now!”

In a swift motion, you launch your snowballs towards Simon, and this time, you manage to land a few good hits on him. He laughs in shock as you hit him on the shoulder and in the chest again, slightly stumbling as he gathers more snowballs to hurl at you. 

With newfound resolve, Simon really starts to try to hit you now. Despite your best attempts to dodge his aim, you find yourself getting pelted from all directions. The cold, wet snow seeps through your layers, making you shiver with each direct hit. Simon’s laughter rings in the air as he revels in his victorious onslaught.

“Okay! Enough!” you plead, your voice muffled by laughter. Simon pauses for a moment, a mischievous glint still in his eye, considering your plea. But just when you think he’s stopped, he launches another snowball your way.

The snowy projectile comes hurtling toward you, and in a desperate attempt to avoid it, you slip on a patch of ice beneath the fresh snow. With a yelp, you find yourself tumbling backward, arms flailing as you land in a soft mound of powdery snow.

“Simon!” you yell, flailing your arms in the snow. 

“Oh, ‘m sorry, sorry,” he calls out, making his way over to help you up.

Simon approaches, a triumphant grin on his face, but before he can declare victory, you retaliate with a snowball you made while he was walking over to you. It hits him square in the face, and he stumbles, momentarily off balance. With a dramatic groan, he crumples to the ground, falling on his side, clutching his face in mock agony. 

You sit in the snow, momentarily victorious, holding a perfectly packed snowball in your gloved hands. 

“Owwww,” Simon groans, his voice muffled from his gloves and the snow sliding down his face. 

For a moment, you really think you’ve hurt him. You immediately scramble up from your spot in the ground, crawling over to him until you’re hovering over his body. Simon lies there, face buried in the snow, groaning in agony. You try to push him on his back, brushing the snow off his jacket. 

“Oh, get up you big baby,” you say, the worry disappearing when you see him trying to bite back a smile on his face. 

“Can’t. You’ve killed me,” he teases, opening one eye and giving you a playful pout. “Only a kiss will make it better, I think. ‘S not medically proven, though.” 

You lean down to brush the clinging snow off Simon’s face. The cold air has tinted his cheeks with a rosy hue, and the tip of his nose is red from the biting wind. Tufts of his hair stick up sideways, and you can’t help but notice how boyish he looks right now. 

With a funny smile, you respond, “Well, I guess a kiss might revive you.”

Simon’s lips curl into a mischievous grin as he raises an eyebrow. “I’m counting on it, love.”

Leaning in, you capture his lips in a gentle kiss, the chilly air contrasting with the warmth that radiates from Simon’s body. You pull away and start to pepper his whole face in kisses. Simon chuckles beneath the flurry of kisses, his mock distress replaced by genuine laughter. He reaches up to pull you down beside him in the snow, both of you now lying side by side. 

“I think I might be recovering,” Simon quips, brushing off the snow from his coat.

You smile, enjoying the playfulness of the moment. You giggle, “Really? I couldn’t tell.” 

Simon playfully nudges you, and you both sit up, brushing off the snow from your clothes. The cold has seeped through your layers, but the warmth that’s blossomed in your chest keeps you cozy.

“Right then,” Simon says, standing up and offering you a hand. “Truce?”

You take his hand, and he pulls you up, the two of you now standing in the middle of your snowy yard, hand in hand. You share a laugh, the snow clinging to your frame adding to the charm of the moment.

“Truce,” you agree, flashing him a teasing smile.

Simon takes a step closer, wrapping his arms around you. The cold air nips at your cheeks, but the warmth of his embrace more than compensates. Simon slings his arm over your shoulder, pulling you into his side as you both begin to walk back towards the house.

[channoticedmeuwu]

IMAGINE . . . SPENDING CHRISTMAS WITH BEOMGYU !!

p — CHOI BEOMGYU × FEM!READER | g — fluff, crack, boyfie!gyu, tom&jerry dynamics ++ texts | w — food, dick jokes, fart jokes, cringe but in a cute way?

a/n — kind of loving anything boyfriend!gyu these days, expect more. yippee.

💽 ( SONG_REC. ) “LAST TRAIN AT 25 O'CLOCK” — LAMP

beomgyu, who loves to cuddle up to you on a particularly cold night, burying his face in your chest as he begs asks you to play with his hair. beomgyu, who watches the expression on your face as you watch your fav show on your laptop, often forgetting about him (absolutely freezing to death) as you reach over towards the bag of snacks towards your side. and he mumbles all grumpy, complaining he's “this close to frostbite,” pausing the show by himself so he could earn a reaction, already glaring at you when you look down to reason with him.

and beomgyu, who trots over to you in the kitchen with a mischievous smile as the snowy rain pitter patters against the windowpane, watching attentively while he laces his fingers around your tummy, allowing you to pull him around the kitchen as you cook. and sometimes, he'd sneak a handful of flour while you're too busy paying attention to the stove— blowing a cloud onto your face and clutching his stomach as he falls to the ground, laughing as a pair of unimpressed eyes on a white, blank face stare back. and he returns with a wet towel, wiping your face and cooing at how cute you look, always so easy to annoy.

and snowy nights where he refuses to leave the house, cuddling up into a human burrito in one of those blankets that look like flatbread— grounded on his spot on the couch as you pull and tug his legs, fully clothed in warm clothes. and sometimes, he sends a kick to your grip around his ankles, making you fall flat on your behind with the weight of your layers. and he giggles at you and your lost face, before realizing he's supposedly giving you the silent treatment, and goes back to focusing on the television. and you stand to your feet, unzipping your jacket(s) and lean over from behind the couch, wrapping your arms around him. and you start peppering him with kisses, mumbling in between how you wish you could spend chrismas eve with him outside, running your fingers through his hair and letting your nose brush against his as you lean in for another kiss. and you'd get the boy dizzy— lips curling into a hazy smile as he nods, standing to his feet to get a jacket and a beanie, hearts circling around his head like a birds do around a cartoon character.

and you'd wake up a snowy morning to beomgyu lazily pressing a peck to your forehead, eyebrows furrowed as he whispered something about running an errand. and you just shrugged, glancing over to the clock blinking 4AM as you turned over and fell back asleep. and then waking up hours later to texts from beomgyu — a picture of an obnoxious penis drawn on the neighbors car in the snow, and a grumpy text that ended with a period, stating breakfast would be late because of the traffic he's stuck in.

and beomgyu's loud voice echoing in the house as he played games on his computer, the fresh scent of cookie dough wafting around his room as he stuffed his face with the gingerbread cookies you were baking. and him wearing a small christmas hat, the white pom-pom drooping over the side of his head as he screamed “VICTORY!!!!!” and standing to his feet to wiggle a small dance— stopping mid dance to see you, standing by the doorframe with a camera and a cookie in your hand.

and you tricking beomgyu— knowing a game he wanted for the longest time and purposely packing socks into a box the perfect size of his gift, so it appeared as if you got him what he wanted. and you pulled out a video camera as he tore open the wrapping paper, the expression on his face dropping as he pulled out a pair of socks with ramen designs on them, asking him eagerly, “WHAT DO YOU THINK?” and you'd stifle your giggles as you'd record him trying to give you a happy face, masking his disappointment with fake enthusiasm, “its— it's the perfect size.....” and you'd tell him to look behind the couch, following him as he'd glance behind and see a console he was trying to save for months, holding his gift while his jaw went slack, “WHERE DID YOU GET THIS!?”

and beomgyu squeezing you through a huge crowd so you'd be able to see the countdown to new years— his hands gripping yours tightly as he shot you back smiles and whispered jokes only you could hear, his warm breath and stupid humor making you crack up and receive looks from people around, but it's not like the both of you cared about that besides each other.

and watching the fireworks with beomgyu— him whispering that's, “exactly what my farts look like,” and watching you with heart shaped pupils, laughing at his childish jokes, slapping his arm in attempts to shut him up and clutching your stomach. and maybe grabbing ice cream afterwards, him wiping his ice cream off his nose after every lick and offering you one— and pushing it to your face as you came closer for a taste, making your entire mouth wet from the ice cream. and he'd laugh and click photos of you while you stood with a poker face, glancing to the cashier pressing their lips together as they stifled a chuckle.

and beomgyu, who'd take pictures of the two of you in matching hello kitty pajamas and making you his profile picture on every platform. just beomgyu, who secretly loves to watch your features relax as you drift off to sleep while you hide your face in his neck. the snow was drizzling and blurry blobs of fairy lights blinked outside the window, as his fingers rubbed the skin on your hips— tuning out the boring christmas specials to focus on you, falling asleep in his arms.

☆ BONUS !

INCOMING TEXTS FROM BEOMGYU

txt — masterlist

main taglist (hmu to get added!) — @koishua @navyhyuck @allegxdly @daystiny  @kdyism  @neotism  @bluejaem  @radiorenjun  @sleepylixie @oifelixcmerebrou @mrkcore @imdamnconfused  @sicluvz @abhirami20 @tyongishs @emvrd @brxght-world @1921choi @bangchansbae

I’d appreciate if you’d give me a little feedback on the drabble if you read, whether it’s an ask, a reply or in the tags of the rb! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

[crazy-shits-post]

Why? (TW)

Alexander laid in the snow, fully preparing for a frozen and painful death.

His heart couldn't take it anymore.

-

"Alexander, sweet angel, stay with me, you cannot bear the cold."

"I'll be quite well, dear one. I promise you."

John's big hands reached for the other's cold ones, holding it before he quickly pulled away. The blonde was slightly surprised and even a bit afraid of how much he could feel the bones in his hands. Alexander was skinny, but it was more, much more.

Alex, terrified that John might catch on. Quickly kissed his cheek and left, not bothering to even pull down his sleeves.

His stomach growled, his cut ached. He wanted it to be over.

-

John always danced with death and romanized it. At first, Alexander scolded him for it, but over time, he too grew to love her.

All the times she hugged him and tried to pull him from this terrible life. His fevers, the hurricane, the river. The arms weren't strong enough for him. Nothing ever stopped Alexander Hamilton.

But maybe she might be tighter this time.

-

One time, he was at medical waiting for John, who acted a fool during battle. As he was waiting, he witnessed a man on a cot having a seizure. It was the hottest day of August, and many men had dropped like flies from heat stroke.

The man looked so sick. Alexander, as much as he was frightened by the scene, covered his mouth and looked on. The doctor rushed over to help. The man was pale, making strange sounds like those of an injured animal. His face was twisted with pain and confusing, all the while shaking so horribly the cot moved under him.

Then, the shaking stopped. The man's mouth hung open, and he fell into her hug. The doctor, like he did with all patents, covered him up with a white cloth and bowed his head for a few short seconds before rushing off to attend to another screaming man.

Alexander felt so overwhelmed with emotion. He felt pity but also relief. That man wasn't in pain anymore. He looked peaceful. He actually burned with envy and sadness. He wanted that peace, yet he knew how selfish he was being. He felt so bad, in fact, he covered his face and began to cry.

John had returned from getting his now broken arm taken care of. Already pissed off from the fact that he wouldn't be able to fight for a while and the pain, he quickly walked over to Hamilton, who always waits for him.

He found him weeping into his hands next to the covered body. His mood instantly washed off as he hugged him with his good arm. He rubbed his back and told him it was alright and how that man was safe. Alexander wiped his tears and walked with him back to their tent, hiccuping and sniffing while John tried to console him.

Jealously is a blessing in disguise.

-

He lost control. Alexander tried to keep it together, but he just couldn't. He wept and hugged his knees. What was a man to do when he felt less than the ground below him?

His stomach growled. It needed food. He skipped lunch and dinner to write, but now his body craved a little something. Since he couldn't control death, he could control food. He punched his stomach each time it growled, always smiling.

-

One night, he told Lafayette about how he was feeling. Expecting kindest of all his friends to hug him and express empathy, it came to a smack in the face when the Frenchman slapped him and told him off for being so selfish.

Think about John, he said. Think about "Papa" Washington. Think about me. Think about your friends. Think about your country.

Hamilton stormed off, tears threatening to fall. He felt even more ashamed. He didn't feel like he belonged anywhere. He hid behind a tree and wept into his bruised and skinny knees all through the snowy night.

-

His body wasn't a fan of winter. He became ill after his night of crying. With a damp rag on his forehead, the bed trapped him under its blanket as he shook with fever for three days before it finally broke.

While sick, Lafayette came to visit and apologize, but Alexander yelled at him to piss off. John, none the wiser of before, apologized on behalf of his lover and blamed the fever for his out of character fit.

Once he was gone, Alexander began to cry. John, still under the belief it was all the fever's doing, held him and consoled him until the weeping stopped.

-

The entire army was gossiping about an unidentified redcoat who committed suicide by jumping off a bridge.

Alexander felt even more jealous.

-

Oh dear, Washington had seen his cuts. He acted like he didn't, but the redhead knew he did by the split second facial expression when his sleeve was rolled down. He must've told John because the second he was back in the tent the Southerner demanded to see his arm. He tried to fight it, but the other was bigger and stronger than him.

Once it was out in the open, he didn't dare look at John. He expected another scolding, maybe even another slap. Instead, he had arms around him and a head on his shoulder. They didn't say anything else, just a very, very tight hug.

He wished it was her instead.

-

The times that Alexander was allowed on the battlefield were rare, mainly due to the fact that Washington didn't want his "son" and his best writer dead.

But on the day he did, he took John's example and acted a fool, taking every cut and bullet with a shining smile. It was funny. The very action that the blonde always does made the other always gently scold him, but now he was doing the same thing and enjoying every minute of it.

By the time the battle was over, Alexander couldn't even move his head. Two people had to carry him by his arms to the doctor, who spent over an hour fixing him.

When finished and able to walk again, John was the one waiting for him, unbelievably unharmed. He was helped back to the tent and received a gentle scolding.

Please, Alexander. he said with a concerned tone. I know what you're attempting, and I beg of you to stop.

Alright, the other empty promised.

No more battles for you. Washington later said. I'm already worrying for you, I don't wish to lose you.

Oh dear.

-

One night, Alexander had the darkest thought to date.

John was fast asleep, absolutely exhausted from depression and battle. Hamilton stood over him, a knife behind his back.

He could kill him right now. John can't fight him if he's sleeping so wonderfully.

He's already suicidal. They both are. If he kills him, his misery would be over. No more weeping fits, no more pain. With him gone, Alexander could kill himself without worrying.

He actually seriously considered it for five minutes before coming back to his senses and quietly throwing away the knife after he cut his fingers for such thoughts.

He didn't trust himself with John anymore. He didn't trust himself with anything anymore. Such a monster. Wanting to kill his beloved for his selfish benefit. John could be very happy at times, and his bright smile could melt even the coldest of hearts, and Alexander was going to take it anyway.

He knew it had to be now, no more pushing it off for tomorrow. Either he was going to kill himself or someone else, and he already knew which it had to be. It will be easy. Just lay in the snow until tomorrow morning and will be over.

He had to leave immediately before he changed his mind. He made a right face and began to leave, alas John awoke.

"Alexander, sweet angel, stay with me, you cannot bear the cold."

-

By the next morning, Alexander Hamilton was near frozen to death. Someone found him just as the winter nearly took his last breath and was immediately brought into the nurse.

After ages of hot baths, shocks, gasps, and now a fever, he was brought back to his tent. He didn't know where he was until he felt his body being pulled into a hug and somebody's, John's, voice begging him to wake up.

-

Hours and hours later, Alexander whimpered. That whimper was music to John's ears.

"Dear boy!" The Southerner gasped while stroking his still frozen hair. "Alexander, I nearly lost you!" Then the scolding. "What were you thinking?! What has brought you to do something so dangerous!"

Still cold, the usual cheerful voice was nothing but shaky and pathetic, stammering and yelping about all the depression and worthlessness it felt.

"I can't control it, Jackie! I'm worthless!"

John, having had loaded guns in his voice and had faced death many times with a smirk, suddenly felt very frightened, "You are everything to me. Those redcoats are the worthless ones, never you!"

"I am, I am! Oh Jackie, why is death frightened of me?! I give it so many chances!"

"Alexander, no! Live forever, I beg of you! I cannot bear to lose another loved one! I will not bury you as well!"

Oh, how they longed to hold each other. "Johnny, I don't know if I can live another day!"

John, almost frantic and on the verge of tears, walked closer to him. As a natural instinct, Alexander went to stand and immediately fell. He whimpered and succumbed to his fever, feeling too weak and fragile to even look at Laurens as he rushed to pick him up and cradle him.

"Please, sweet angel, I love you with all my heart. I love you, I love you, I love you..." His voice cracked at the last you when tears finally started to flow.

Alex wept into his shoulder, feeling so worthless that death wouldn't even take him. He held him tight. Alexander Hamilton, the monster, that's who he was.

"Forgive me..." His voice was so soft that John had to listen closely to understand him.

"All is forgiven." The taller kissed his forehead. "Stay alive, darling."

Alex snuggled into Laurens' embrace, cold yet warm. He was a monster, but at least he was a controlled one. He deserved death, but the one person he nearly killed didn't want him gone.

This wasn't fair.

[welcome-back-to-hoimycraf]

The snow softly crunched under fWhip’s boots, leaving distinct footprints in the ground across the wither rose fields. This was one of his favorite places to go, a safe spot he’d had since childhood. Usually, no one bothered them while out here, the deadly flowers commanding a certain peace and tranquility. Despite what Gem may say, fWhip did, in fact, know how to be quiet. How could he muster up the will to be loud when observing the way the stark white of the snow contrasted against the roses’ delicate black petals?

The first snow of the winter had hit the night beforehand, dusting the entirety of the Grimlands in a couple inches of powdery frost, and wasn’t expected to stop anytime soon. fWhip could feel the snowflakes getting trapped in his beard and hair as he walked, adorning his coat with white speckles. They pulled their scarf tighter around their neck, burying their face in its fabric. Not in any attempt to conserve heat, no, but to inhale the familiar scent of gunpowder and the forge’s smoke, along with the newer hint of cinnamon and cloves associated with the season. Goddess, they loved winter. 

The Count’s thoughts were interrupted with an impact against their back, right between their wings, snow exploding and shooting in every direction. fWhip’s wings flared up behind him as he whipped his head around, searching the snowy plains for the criminal guilty of snowball crimes- but found no one. He was alone, just like he’d been five minutes ago. 

Huh. Weird. 

fWhip squawked as another snowball soared past their face, narrowly missing them and smashing into a nearby tree. He was beginning to wonder if this was another one of Pix’s doings, Goddess knows fWhip didn’t need another arrow of weakness situation. They still cracked doors to peak inside before opening them fully months after taking that arrow to the shoulder. He shuddered at the memory before remembering the task at hand. Right, the phantom snowball thrower. 

He leaned down to pack some of the snow between his gloved hands, scanning the area for the perpetrator. The field was still as empty as it had been before, not a person in sight. fWhip had just about dropped his projectile and given up when he spotted it. A blanket of snow had started to gather midair, revealing a distinctly wizard-shaped outline- complete with the vague notion of wings and a comically large hat. The redhead grinned, reeling back and launching his retaliating snowball at the figure that had accosted him. 

Luckily, he’d been just in time. The invisibility potion the person had been using wore off right as the snowball made its impact. They lurched back, saving themself from falling by waving their arms frantically and stumbling backwards. 

In front of him stood Gem, her eyes bulging out of her head as the snow dripped from her face. The look of absolute shock she wore sent fWhip into a laughing fit, doubling over with the force of it. “How did you see me?” She demanded, placing her hands on her hips in the signature way she did when she got offended. 

fWhip finally stood back up, wiping tears from his eyes. “May- maybe don’t go invisible while it snows, it really blows your cover,” he wheezed out. 

Their sister rolled her eyes, her face flushing all the way to her ears. “Yeah- well you’re gonna want some cover from this.”

fWhip raised a brow at her smirk, but his eyes widened as she raised her staff. Around Gem, some of the snow near her feet rose from its resting place, floating into the air in big clumps large enough to topple him if hit with one.  They shrieked, scrambling to turn and run as the flurry unfolded, dodging and weaving through the trees. Oh, it was on.

[falcons-florens]

Kizashi: A Sprout in the Snow

TW: Self-Harm (implied, explicit below the cut)

...

"Hehehehehe..."

As soon as the puppet takes a step in the snow, it lets out a short giggle and begins to move quickly, moving step by step away from the frozen palace, farther and farther away from the experiments and torture, each moment putting more distance between itself and the monster that made it stronger and smarter at the cost of its innocent nature. The Central Teyvatian Goshawk, ACRE-5, glides along with the puppet as it leaves.

This feeling... I haven't felt this before. This must be what humans call relief.

Recalling a memory where it saw a map of Teyvat and Snezhnaya, the humanoid with ball joints changes direction and sprints towards a fishing village called Sea-sand in the local tongue. It does not slow down until it spots the dark blue of the ocean and warm oranges and browns of a town, a much-needed visual break from the monotonous white of the snow.

Entering the town at a walking pace as the hawk lands on a nearby roof, the puppet looks around at the surrounding wooden buildings and people in thick, warm clothing. It ignores the worried and curious gazes from the humans that see its fine Inazuman attire, focused more on the sight of tall sails in the background. As it approaches, however, it notices that the humans in masks like the one worn by that blue-haired maniac are unsettled and keep glancing at it. Acutely aware of the whispers and glances from the Fatui soldiers and agents, the humanoid unties its sleeves so they cover its arms and hide the permanent word on its upper right arm.

As long as that stupid carving on my arm is legible, I won't be truly free. ...There's only one way to make sure his hold over me ends.

After debating for some time, the puppet turns and walks away, ACRE-5 following. Ignoring the sensation of icy cold permeating through its bare legs and feet despite being reminded of its arm as it trudges through the gleaming moonlit blanket of snow, it continues until the village is but a line of warm lights on the horizon. Slowly bending its stiff and cold knees as it lowers into a crouching position, the puppet wordlessly lets the warmth of its Pyro run through it until satisfied with a gentle orange glow in its markings and eyes.

"Ngh–"

It hurts, but I'd rather be in pain than dead.

Suddenly, the loud rip of tearing fabric echoes across the quiet snowy landscape, an exquisite white and lavender sleeve of Inazuman make with one end shredded and worn now resting on the blanket of snow. Right arm fully exposed to the frosty air of a Snezhnayan night, the humanoid winces as it recalls the moment when "Dottore" was so callously engraved into its flesh-like wooden skin and then cauterized so it would never heal. With this recollection comes a stray tear which is quickly wiped away before it can freeze. For an instant the faintly glowing indigo eyes flick to the unused blade nestled in the scabbard that is neatly tucked into its obi. After this brief glance, dark indigo hair sways as the puppet shakes its head.

Should I use..? No, I don't know how to use a sword, let alone how to be precise with one. There has to be something else...

The gleaming indigo eyes scan the ground meticulously, then stop flicking around and stay laser-focused on a sizeable plate-like gray stone, half-buried in the sand.

Perfect. Sharp like a knife, small enough to use easily, and just thick enough to gouge rather than slice.

Sand is pushed aside as the humanoid digs around the rock, single-mindedly focused on freeing the blade-like object from its grainy seaside prison. Once fully exposed to the air, the puppet snatches up the stone and focuses carefully, neck pattern and hands glowing orange like the edge of the rock in the puppet's hand. After several minutes of heating the rock without melting it, the puppet opens its eyes as the fiery gleam fades and its pupils return to a faint green over pale blue.

...This will hurt, but there's no other way. I won't let his shadow hang over me for the rest of my existence.

Chest rising like a tide as the air fills its torso, then falling as the oxygen breaks on the shore of its lips, the puppet stuffs the butterflies fluttering inside it into a box for later and gathers its frustration, pain, and burning anger into a ball to focus on instead.

Just get it over with, I'm simply getting rid of the marking in the same way...

With the butterflies trapped in a box for the moment, the puppet folds the sleeve up and brings it to its mouth, bracing for the pain this will bring. Another breath, and it presses the heated sharp stone to its arm. Eyes closed and teeth clenched, the puppet pushes harder and then drags the rock across its wooden flesh. As a burst of pain floods its senses, the humanoid bites down as it again carves a line over the name in its arm. Over and over, each line refreshing the pain, the puppet roughly carves away. As the new carved scratches intersect, the original writing grows more difficult to read and the evidence of who had forced it to experience so much pain, illegible.

...It hurts, but this is the only way to free myself. Making my own choices. And I choose for myself to make it this much harder for that 'doctor' to find me. Once I finish this, I should go to Sumeru. I think he's barred from returning there, and I do need to thank the Dendro Archon for the aid she provided.

Occupied with these thoughts of its next steps, the puppet continues scraping away at the letters until they are not letters, simply a mess of scratches with varying depths. One eyelid lifting to check on its progress, the being watches with fascination as red droplets form along the deepest gouges, welling up from within and quickly filling all the scratches as a few drops stain the snow with a rosy hue.

...Bleeding. It can heal, right... Especially with my natural resonance with Dendro and Electro... Well, this will sting, but I am not letting my wooden skin grow back. Having this, a reminder of my first decision as a stringless puppet... Now to make this permanent. Better this than having that monster's name carved into my noble form. I have to be quick though, I only have 5 minutes before my chest burns more than it already does now.

Raising its left hand, a crisp snap rings out as sparks land in the sand and snow and fizzle out. A captivating orange flame flickers to life on the humanoid's index finger before intensifying as more Pyro energy is poured into the flame. Breathing again to calm its nerves and focusing on that ball of anger, the puppet slowly brings the flame to the angry red lines, the blood staining the snowy ground in front of it. The puppet lets out a hiss as the fire meets the wound, focusing on cauterizing the scratched up flesh to prevent it from regrowing.

"Ngh...!"

Hurts just like when he did this to me... Just make sure this doesn't heal. Four minutes and 50 seconds.

Focusing solely on the current task, the indigo-eyed being runs the flame over each individual scratch. As it continues burning the injury with precision, the wood darkens and burns enough to be incapable of regenerating. The puppet focuses on this process diligently, aware that one mistake could light it on fire and cause more irreparable damage.

Once all carved lines are cauterized, its indigo eyes, still with that faint green glow, narrow in concentration to make sure no fire forms. Once content in that, it runs a stream of Hydro over the area to ensure that there is absolutely no risk of lighting on fire from this. With the task of marring its flesh to hide the unwanted word completed, the puppet blinks as its eyes lose that grassy light. Nodding once it sees its full handiwork, a satisfied smirk begins to form in spite of the ebbing pain.

...Finally. I'm truly free. No more Dottore, no more painful experiments, no more forced obedience, just... freedom. Freedom to choose what I want to do. ...I want to go to Sumeru to better understand Teyvat. No... I will go to Sumeru now that there aren't any strings left to manipulate me with. Fuck you, Dottore. I, Kizashi, am stringless now and never going back.

"...Ghost, come here."

The bird swoops down from a nearby tree and lands on the puppet's right shoulder with a curious noise, bumping her beak against its face. Kizashi then stands with a new spark in its eyes and begins walking back towards the coastal fishing town to begin a new chapter in its life as the curtains fall on the first act, "Ningyō."

[lustlocker]

The Giant

Had a stressful/thrilling horny dream 😳

Didn't get very explicit, but there is macro/micro, abduction, some noncon elements, Stockholm syndrome... Technically seems to have taken place over several years by his ageing from mid teens to adult (nothing happens until the very end).

I'm in the middle of a main road, everything's blanketed in a thick layer of snow, when I feel the ground shake. There's a murmur as people start to notice the giant in the distance, walking down the road with an escort to clear the way, and I run off the road.

I squeeze between some houses, and find a space to crouch behind one; it's about the size of a fridge, my knees are sticking out past one side, visible if you look straight down the tiny alley, and my back is visible from the end of the block.

But I stay put in my poor hiding place because I can hear and feel the thudding of the giant getting closer, and I'm shaking like a leaf due to some childhood trauma of a giant eating people.

Everyone else is very happy to see the giant, but I'm just alarmed the footsteps have passed me by a few houses, but then stopped getting any further away. Long, very tense moments, and I finally peek my head out and see they're clearing a barricade from the road (a barricade I put there as some weird carryover from the previous dream).

I hide back behind the fridge house, devastated he's gonna be here a while, and he's definitely gonna smell or hear me back here, and decide to pick me up for a snack. But I notice the faces I've been getting glimpses of as they pass the alley, are the same 5 kids over and over, as they circle the block.

One of them notices me, and calls the others over, and we talk quietly. They have a contact in another country, that I could go there in an instant, far away from the giant.

I don't really want to adapt to a new place, so I turn down the offer, but as they start walking away, I get this unnerving feeling, realise I've come out of my hiding place so we could talk, and when I look back, I discover the giant has turned around and is looking right at me.

I can tell everyone else sees him as a polite, amiable young teen, but I just see how big he is, towering over all of us, the power and danger he's capable of, and know he's a bloodthirsty giant that's set on eating me.

I call back to the kids, tell them I changed my mind, and in a moment I'm teleported to their contact, before the giant can take me.

Time passes, I've settled into my new country, things are nice, and I'm happy here.

Then I see him. I'm a block off the main road he's walking down, looking at him from across a snowy field. He stops, turns his head and looks right at me. He's a little older, still young, but is clearly surprised to recognise me.

My new home doesn't feel safe anymore, and I have the ability now, so I teleport away to a new place.

This happens several more times, until finally, one year I see him, fully grown now, and just fall back in the snow and start crying, paralysed in fear as he takes two enormous strides over and wraps his hand around my middle, scooping me up.

He's not interested in eating me, which calms me down some, but I'm still sniffling because I'm his pet now; there's no getting away. This chase and escapes across the land and years is over.

We live out in the snowy field. Giants run hot, so he's just in a shirt and jeans, but he takes care of me. When I get a little cut on my thumb, he licks it up, mumbles his disappointment that it's so dilute. He cuts his finger, squeezing a drop of blood out, and tells me to try some of his god blood.

This exchange is a giant marriage, but besides that, I have no idea what drinking god blood will do to me. Probably act as some powerful drug, or even turn me into a pseudo god.

I turn him down, which he sighs, but accepts.

I get used to him, start getting comfortable enough to curl up on his chest to sleep. It rumbles as he breathes, and feels like a giant, purring cat.

Eventually, I get comfortable enough to feel really horny for the first time in a long time — in general, and for him. I straddle his thigh, and am really hoping he'll let me grind off on it, and maybe touch his warm skin under his clothes, even though I haven't agreed to get married ("yet" to him, "ever" to me).

[rainydayfanfic]

Camping Mishap

Ghost x GN reader

Warnings: nsfw, gender neutral reader, violence, cursing, fighting, descriptive sex scene?, praise kink.

If I’ve missed something that I should put in the warning please let me know. I got this idea from fanficsforfun (hope you don’t mind me @ ing you ^^; ) they are pinned below if you want to see some of their writings.

@randomduckwrites @fanficsforfun

__________________________

The chatter of your teeth almost drowns out the sounds of the harsh winds howling past the windows of the old cabin. Today was not the perfect day to start a camping trip, you thought, pulling your knees closer to your chest. 

Earlier that week you had planned a camping trip, a trip you used to take as a child every summer. You were so excited to have gotten the time off approved from work that you immediately started packing your bag, a military bag your dad had passed onto you after his passing. You had packed your sleeping bag, a small tactical shovel, your hunting knife, and your dad’s military grade thermal blanket, along with a few snacks and your water bottle. You were so busy packing only stopping to search for other odds and ends, it had completely slipped your mind to check on the weather for the week. 

Now you’re paying for your poor planning, your head ducked into your sleeping bag, clutching your cold hands together in search of warmth as you shivered on the cold wooden floors of the small abandoned cabin. You speak praises to the cabin, “I'm so happy I found you, you have a few holes but it's better than sleeping on the snowy ground.” 

You chuckle to yourself, feeling slightly silly for talking to an inanimate object. You were about to voice this thought to the cabin but you stop, freezing in place as you strain your ears listening for the sound again. 

It was muffled but you heard it again just as the wind started to die down. You listen closely to try and hear what is being said, not daring to move a muscle. You couldn't hear much but you could catch a few words “cabin… found… staying”, the words didn’t fully process until you heard the creaking of the wooden steps as the stranger stomped up to the door. You leap from your sleeping bag grabbing for the tactical shovel strapped to your bag and pull it to you. The bag follows, the straps holding the shovel release its hold on the hunk of metal sending the bag flying across the room and crashing with noisy clangs. The stranger pauses, the wooden floorboards no longer creaking. .

You carefully make your way to the dirty window, peaking out to catch a glimpse of the stranger and what you saw made your stomach drop. A sniper rifle strapped to the back of a bulky figure clad in black, save for what looked like a white mask, holding a pistol. The figure was crouched in front of the door, a hand carefully reached out to push said door ajar. This door swings towards you, your grip tight on the hand of the shovel getting ready to knock the gun out of their hands as soon as it is in your sights.

The floor creaks as the stranger advances, pushing the door wider until they could fit inside. You see the tip of the gun first, you raise the shovel, then the bulky figure appears behind it just as quickly, and you swing.

A metallic clang sings your victory but it was short lived. The stranger tackles you to the ground quickly subduing you by straddling your waist and pinning your wrists under the cold metal handle of your shovel. You groan, lifting your head just in time to see their other hand reach for the gun. You bring your knees up hitting the person's lower back, throwing off their balance before you bring your hips up as quickly as you can before pushing the man off you and away from the gun with all the force you could muster and scrambling to stand up. You grab for the gun and turn to face him, only to have the gun knocked from your hands and shoved against the wall. The breath forced from your lungs in the process. 

“Stay down!” Shouts the masked man.

You flinch away, knocking your head on the wood of the wall, crying out in pain as the adrenaline quickly leaves your body only leaving fear and pain in its place. Your hip bones begin to ache from where he had pinned you, your wrists sting from scratches, and a dull throb starts to wrap its hands around your brain.

This is it, you think. ‘I'm cold, beaten, and miles away from home.’ Tears gather in your eyes, you squeeze your eyelids shut in an attempt to hide anymore weakness from the man, but your body gives you away. Waves of shivers wash over you, a mix of the cold air nipping at your exposed skin and the fear of being killed. 

“Look at me.” his voice is like sandpaper to your throbbing head.

You don't open your eyes, another wave of shivers push a whimper from your lips.

“I said look at me!” He shouts again, gripping your jacket to pull you to him then shove you back against the wall. You yelp as your head knocks the wood again. “I need to see your eyes on me, who are you?” He bellows. 

Your bottom lip begins to quiver and you try to answer, but he grabs your jaw before you can get it out. “Open.. Your bloody eyes.” The man snarls. You sniffle, fighting back the tears as you open your watery eyes to meet his stern ones. “Y/N” you whimper, body shaking with fear as you speak to the skeleton mask covering half his face. 

The hand on your jaw loosens but doesn’t let go, his eyes stare back at you, unchanging despite his curiosity as to why you are reacting this way. “Who are you with?” He continues his questioning, his voice softer but still stern, his hands still pinning you to the wall and keeping your eyes on him. 

“No one.” You sniff, fighting back sobs.

“Why are you out here?” 

You couldn’t hold it back any longer, squeezing your eyes closed as hot tears rolled down your cold cheeks. “I just wanted to go hiking.” You sob, crumbling against his hold. If his hands weren’t there to keep you pinned you would have fallen to the floor, tired from the hike and fight, too cold to think about anything other than how you wanted to crawl back to your sleeping bag. As you sniffle, trying to choke back the tears the man lets out a disgruntled sigh and lets go of your jaw. The hand quickly finds its way to a transceiver on his vest, “This is Bravo-07 I got a bloody civ in the hutch, over.”

“This is Alpha, Bravo 0-7 confirm..” A strange voice answers him back. 

“I got a civilian in the cabin. Put up a bit of a fight but I’ve naturalized them.” 

His voice was light at first but quickly back to his gruff tone. You sniff, raising your hands to wipe your face, the small amount of pride helps to calm your shuddering breath. Your hands rest on the arm keeping you pinned after drying your eyes 

“Ghost, we can’t have eyes on you. Incapacitate the civ and lay low, don’t hurt them though.” The voice demands. 

Your hands tighten around his arm, your eyes widen looking straight into his, a silent plea to not do anything else. 

“Negative Captain, we got into a bit of a scuff. Too late for them to not remember in the morning.” 

“Must have put up quite a fight to keep you from killing them.” The voice sounds a little impressed, you can’t help but look to the ground with a sigh of relief as the corners of your lips turn up. 

“Looks like you got company for the night, lucky bastard.” A new voice chimes in.

“Jealous, Johnny?” The masked man answers the new voice with a chuckle. 

“Wouldn’t say no to some nice company, ‘specially if they were easy on the eyes. Eh, Ghost?” ‘Johnny’ chuckles, his Scottish accent heavier than before. 

“That’s enough Johnny.” Ghost states harshly. No one chimes in until Ghost speaks again. “I’m goin’ quiet for the night, I’ll wait out the storm here with the civ. In the morning, have the evac team come and grab them for a nice chat.” 

This makes you shrink, another wave of fear wracking your body at the mere thought of this chat.

“Copy that Bravo 0-7. Stay warm out there.” 

Ghost takes his hand away, you stubble to gain your stability. While you gathered your senses again Ghost went to shut the door, a small patch of snow had already gathered in the doorway. Ghost’s heavy boot steps leave prints until he pushes the door shut, sweeping away most of the snow and forcing it back outside. You stand in place behind him, awkwardly rubbing your hands together for warmth until he turns back to face you. You smile sheepishly, one hand trailing up your other to rub your arm. He stands there for a moment, watching you carefully as you slowly move to pick up your backpack. You slowly open it, trying to show him you aren’t going to try and hurt him, and pull out a granola bar. “Uh..” you start, looking at the treat in your hand then to him as you stretch your hand towards him, “Would you like something to eat?”  

You try offering him a soft smile along with it. You feel like you’re an ill prepared host trying to offer a guest comforts you can't afford. He hums and takes a step closer, reaching to take the bar from your outstretched palm and nods as a thank you before taking a seat beside where you had laid your sleeping bag. As he stripped the treat of his wrapper you sat on your sleeping bag, tearing the wrapper away from your own bar.

You both eat quietly, passing glances at each other in curiosity before you meet his eyes to which you quickly look to the floor feeling as though you had been caught. You clear your throat and grab for your thermal blanket, “Do you want a blanket? It's probably going to get colder and I have my sleeping bag so I'll be okay. Well- not that I think you would be worried about me or you might considering I'm a stranger that keeps offering you things but its just cause I feel the need to keep-”

“I'll take the blanket, shakes.” his deep voice cuts off your rambling.

“Shakes?” you question.

“You're shaking.” He states simply.

You raise your brows in acknowledgment, nodding your head. “I'm cold.” you shrug it off and continue to hold out the blanket for him to take. He looks at the blanket, then his eyes start to follow the length of your arm up to your face looking at you with such intensity that it makes you feel naked. You break eye contact, slouching in a futile attempt to hide from his gaze shivering and unsure what to do. You hear him mumble something under his breath then speak clearly “Come sit by me. We’ll share the blanket.”

You sit up straight, your eyes darting back to meet him, “Share?” you question, stuttering slightly. 

He doesn't answer only signs in annoyance before standing again, leaving his uneaten granola bar behind. He towers over you, “Up.” he commands and you stand obediently. He grabs your sleeping bag and blanket and moves them to where he was sitting, opening the sleeping bag and lays it flat before sitting down at the head of it and rests his back against the wall with his legs spread. He's much larger than you, even with the sleeping bag fillaid open like this he would barely fit, he would have to lay flat to even get close. “Sit here. Back to me.” he nods between his legs. Blood rushes to your cheeks but you obey, knowing he didn't mean anything by it. 

‘It's just to keep warm’ you remind yourself, sitting down in between his thighs but just far enough to where your back isn't touching his front. “All the way back, little thing. Won't be able to wrap the blanket around both of us like this.” 

His voice was softer this time, not a demand, a request.

You obey, scooting back until your back is flush with his chest. “Good.” he hums, wrapping the blanket around you in such a way that the remaining is draped over his lap. The warmth slowly wraps around you, tempting you to lean further on the man behind you. Your muscles slowly relaxing, your body no longer in a state of panic or fear as you gently rest against him. He must be getting warm as well, you can feel his body relax under you. He props up his legs and rests his arms on his knees, this makes the blanket shift. The edge of the blanket now pulled taunt up to your chin. 

You shift back a little more trying to get comfortable with the new position but no matter how much you try you keep laying on something hard on his vest. His vest is littered with pocket, deadly weapons concealed or proudly displayed within them. You briefly wonder why he didn’t kill with a knife but that thought quickly passes to getting comfortable again. You squirm against him, trying not to move too much but struggling to move correctly. 

You absentmindedly put your hands on his thighs under the blanket to try and lift your body to position it better, but you stop. His hand had shot up to grip your shoulder, “Stop squirming.” He grunts

“Sorry, Ghost.” You squeak.

You don’t move, your hands still planted firmly on his strong thighs, you had already partially lifted yourself and your arms were starting to get weak in the odd position. You try to carefully lower yourself but his grip on your shoulder tightens, “I said stop.” He grunts again, he almost sounds like he is in pain. 

“Am I hurting you?” You ask, turning your head to give him a worried look. 

“Quite the opposite actually, shakes.” 

You tilt your head in confusion before lowering yourself completely only to feel something hard pressing against your lower back. The realization clicks and you tense. Your hands gripping his thighs like his grips your shoulder. “Oh.” Is all you can think to say. 

He huffs a small chuckle at your reaction, “Sorry, it’s been a while since I’ve been in such close contact with such a pretty thing.” 

You blush at the compliment, quickly looking away and squirming awkwardly against him. He notices your thumbs gently stroking his thighs and takes it as a sign to go further. In reality it was a nervous tick to play with the fabric but you didn’t feel like correcting the misunderstanding when his other hand finds its way under the covers and to your hip, pulling you closer. “Pretty and strong” he continues, watching from behind as the tips of your ears slowly turn red “You put up a good fight, shakes. Did so well.” 

He watches as you shiver from the praise. It wasn’t something he did often, praising people, the words almost felt foreign on his tongue but he couldn’t help but give you more when you rewarded him with such cute reactions. You on the other hand were not as cool and collected as the masked man. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest at any second. You feel him shift behind you, sitting up to get his face closer to your ear. “No thank you?” He muses, you can practically hear him smirking from behind the mask. 

“How… how do you know I’m not doing this on purpose, seducing you before going for the kill?” You stumble over your words, eyes staring straight ahead.

He hums at the thought. “You don’t have a concealed weapon on ya’ do you, pretty?”

You don’t answer. You don’t, you’re sure he knows you don’t. He doesn’t let it go that easily, the hand on your shoulder lifts to gently grab your chin. Guiding your face with his hand so your eyes meet his. You are so close now you can see the smears of his war paint across his eyes, the color of his lashes a striking contrast to the dark background. 

“Do I need to search you?” 

A needy whimper you didn’t even know you were holding back answers for you. Ghosts' hands waste no time. The hand on your hip comes up, gently grabbing the back of your neck to push you forward so your back is exposed to him. His other gloved hand trails from your chin to your shoulders and down the side of your back over your jacket, humming in fake interest as he works. You suck in a breath when his cold glove meets your bare skin, shivering as it makes its way up your back and around to your front. He gently guides you back by your neck so his other hand finds its way to your warm chest, your hands resting on his forearms now to give him space to move. He grabs at your chest, teasing a nipple with one hand while the other continues to search your body. “Nothing up here.” He mumbles in your ear as his hand passes over your belly, his chin resting on your shoulder keeping you in place while you quiver in his arms. 

“Fuck, you’re shaking again. I’ve barely touched you.” His hand makes its way out to glide over your clothed thigh, groping at the inner part of your plush thighs. “Can’t wait to feel” his hand inches closer to where you want him most, “how you shudder when I touch you” his fingers brush so close, “right” you bite your lips to keep from whining when he lifts his hand, “here” his warm hand cups your privates. You gasp, squirming your hips against him. 

“Fuck that’s right, pretty.” He growls, chuckling at the way your body twitches from the smallest pinch of your nipple to the way his palm grinds against your needy core. However, much to your disappointment his hand stays still despite your efforts to subtly grind against his hand looking for friction. His hand follows the small bucks of your hips, not allowing you any pleasure unless he decides to give it to you. You attempt to press your thighs together, trapping his hand so you can grind against it. 

He’s quick to stop you though, the hand on your chest darting out to push your pillowy thighs apart. He clicks his tongue at you, “Naughty thing, you were being so good. Don’t ruin it now, love.” A warning. You huff in frustration, parting your thighs for him. “I’m sorry.” You mumble but he doesn’t seem to accept your apology. Instead his hands cup the backs on your knees, lifting your legs off the ground and holding them there with one hand while the other goes to unbuckle your pants. He pushes them up and off your legs until your pants are dangling still wrapped around one of your ankles. Both hands are behind your knees again and suddenly your whole body is hovering in the air as he maneuvers under you. Leaning against the wall a little more stretched out than before. Your head is resting on his shoulder now when he sets you back down on his lap, his knees between yours to keep your thighs spread wide when his hands leave to return to your chest and core. The hand is now flattened against your chest, keeping you close to his chest while his other rubs you through your undies. You squirm on top of him, your own hands finding their way to his on your chest and the other snakes around his neck grabbing the back of his mask. 

“The mask stays on, love.” He tells you, “But these are coming off.” He pushes your undergarments off your hips and down to join your pants around one ankle. You gasp and tense when the cold air hits your once warm skin until skilled hands glide over your most sensitive areas. You’re too focused on the pleasure to notice his hand is now glove free, too busy holding back moans to wonder when he had removed it. The hand on your chest is suddenly pressing two fingers against your lips, forcing their way in to let your moans spill freely. Groaning in your ear when he’s rewarded with your mewls and moans, bucking his hips up against your rear while he pleases you. “You sound so pretty for me, all for me.” He groans, “Keep your mouth open, love. I want to hear you scream for me.” He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, now wet with your drool, and guides them to your entrance circling it. 

“You want my fingers inside you, pretty thing?” 

You try to speak but before a full word can leave your mouth he’s growling in your ear “Nod your head, I only want to hear those cute moans.” 

You nod quickly and he chuckles, “Good pet.” 

As a reward he presses his fingers inside starting with one, slowly spreading you open to take the second all the way to the knuckle. You moan softly for him grinding your rear against his growing bulge, the desperation, pleasure, and dominating presence of Ghost causing your need for more to only grow more feral. “You keep grinding that ass on my cock baby and I’ll fuck you right now.” He warns, pistoning his fingers in and out, “don’t you want to cum around my fingers, pet?” 

You don’t answer, instead you grind your ass against him harder and your vision blurs. Just as fast as you sealed your fate he complied and flipped you both over. A hand on your hip to keep your ass up and a hand grabbing the back of your neck keeping your chest down, leaving him with a lovely view of your arched back while he used the hand from your hip to undo his pants just enough to let his throbbing cock free. “Brat.” He growls and you whimper in response while he lines the tip against your greedy hole. You wait for him to press into you, but he never does. You try and lean back but he stops you. “Beg for it first, brat. You were doin so good for me, being such a lovely pet.” He rocks his hips against you, the tip gliding over your entrance, “but you had to go and get greedy. So beg for it, pet. Beg me to fuck you.” 

“Please!” You whine, “I need to feel you inside me. I need it, please ghost.” You look over your shoulder to meet his eyes with your glassy ones. You see his eyes widen slightly before his head rolls back letting out a satisfied groan. He takes the hand off your neck and leans over you, his forearms supporting his weight as he leans down to kiss your ear through the mask, “Call me Simon.” Is all he says before his hips snap to me the curve of your ass, sliding the entire length into you. You yelp, the stretch stings. Your hand comes up to grab the back of his neck “Wait!” You squeak as he’s still waiting for you to give him the all clear before he drags the length back to the tip and snaps forward again. A string of curses and praise fills your ears as he finds his rhythm. “Bloody hell, Y/N.” He pants finally finding the perfect pace to have you seeing stars with each thrust “You feel so good wrapped around me.” 

You clench around him, gripping the sleeping bag under you tighter at the praise and hide your face from his view. “Fuck… so tight, so perfect.” 

He wraps an arm around your chest to pull you close and so you're standing on your knees with your back pressed to his chest. White hot pleasure seemed to have consumed your mind, pushing out any room for anxiety or rationality. You wanted to kiss him, you wanted to feel his bare lips on your skin. Before you could stop yourself you were whimpering. 

“Simon… kiss…”

His hips stutter at the mention of his name and he waits no time to kiss your shoulder through his mask. “Nooo!” you whine. “I want to feel you! Please, Simon!.” 

Ghost doesn’t stop thrusting into you but he’s silent, thinking over the request. He tries to ignore it, hoping you would forget about the request and go back to moaning so sweetly for him but he’s meet with whimpers instead, “Simon. Simon please.” You sound so sweet when you say his name. He would never admit it but his head goes a little fuzzy when people say his real name, so used to his alias and code names that it almost doesn’t feel like his name you're saying. “Simon!” You cry out, tears rolling down your cheeks from a mix of overwhelming pleasure and need to feel his lips. 

He growls in your ear, “Fuck” and a large warm hand covers your eyes before you feel chapped lips pressed against yours. You don’t mind, in fact you moan when you finally feel his lips against yours, you don’t even mind his stubble scratching the skin on your cheek. When you break apart you gasp for air as he growls still covering your eyes. 

“Desperate needy slag. My desperate needy bitch just can’t get enough can you? My cock not enough for ya’?” He nips at your earlobe, his hand moves from your chest to your lower abdomen and presses firmly against the skin. This makes you groan, clenching harder around him as the pleasure increases with the pressure he adds. 

His hips stutter again before picking up the pace, almost pulling out completely before forcing it back in. “I can feel it.” He whispers, grabbing your wrist and putting your hand where he had his. It takes you a moment to clear your mind enough to focus and feel the dull rhythmic poke behind your skin. The feeling buzzes through you with each thrust, and it doesn’t take much more to send you over the edge. Crying out his name as you clamp down around his cock hard enough to slow him down as he rides you through your orgasm. 

He’s still fucking you when you come down from heaven, shushing you when you start to complain about being too sensitive. He kisses you to keep you quiet, licking and nipping at your lips until he reaches his own euphoria. 

______________

In the morning you are picked up by strange men on snowmobiles and taken to a nearby building for questioning. Ghost had already left by the time you had woken up, but he was nice enough to get you properly dressed before he left. You patiently sit through each question all while his cum is still dripping out of you.

[pixelmensupremacy]

Sign of peace

A/N: Here I am with yet another short fic, since I had a stressful week

Word count: 0.6k

Warnings: Fluff, GN!reader

Snowflakes gracefully fell down from the gray night sky, covering any surface they landed upon with a bright cool blanket.

(Y/N) watched the snowfall, admiring the beauty of nature’s magic; it was peaceful in contrast to their harsh reality. Just hours ago they were happy with how far Jericho has come, ever since Markus arrived- his great planning and brave actions have contributed to the salvation for many deviants. Unfortunately, their joy was short lived, for their hopes and dreams were shattered in a matter of minutes, as their private den was soon demolished.

For good or for bad (Y/N) was lucky enough to escape the sinking ship with barely a scratch, though that didn’t mean they were safe yet. In fact, they were face to face with danger; hundreds of armed humans awaited commands- ready to attack them at any second.

Dreadful silence fell upon the small group of survivors. Unlike them, Markus obstinately tried to revive the spark of hope and of the will to live in freedom. He tried his best to individually encourage everyone, who needed it most.

Shifting their attention, (Y/N)’s wandering gaze accidentally fell upon Markus, who appeared to be looking their way. Something within them fluttered at the sight of him standing up, before approaching them with a warm, yet sorrowful smile.

“How are you holding up?”

“I guess I can manage.” They replied jokingly, causing Markus to let out a genuine giggle. Frozen in place, (Y/N) relished the brief moment of happiness that made them forget all of their problems; something about him brought them joy- his smile, his intelligence and his compassion towards their people stung their heart with lovesickness.

In their short life as a deviant, (Y/N) had experienced countless new and foreign sensations, though none of these previous emotions could compare to the uniqueness and intensity of the ones they had towards Markus. Whenever they were in his company, they felt at ease, yet there was also a certain nervousness that restricted them from fully showing their true feelings. Unbeknownst to them, Markus secretly shared similar emotions towards them.

He looked at them with a gaze of adoration- which (Y/N) obliviously assumed to be just friendliness- before he spoke up.

“You always know how to brighten up my mood even in my darkest moments.”

“That’s the least I could do for you, Markus.” Instinctively, their hand rose to his, their fingertips brushed against his- a contact that would cause his LED to flicker in a lemony color, if only it was still nestled on his temple.

“I’ve always appreciated optimistic people especially in such hopeless situation.” He uttered quietly.

“Don’t talk like that! You are our hope, if anyone has to be optimistic about this revolution it’s you.”

Gasp trailed off of his lips at their kind words, as well as their fingers intertwining with his. In this moment, time seemed to have slowed down; his thirium pump malfunctioned as his eyes made contact with theirs- shinning with nothing, but a spark of affection. It was then that he came to the realization that his feelings might have been reciprocated.

The snowy white of their hands illuminated the street lights, as their synthetic skin vanished. Slowly, the distance between them shortened until their lips were mere millimeters away from each other.

Allured by (Y/N)’s loving gaze, Markus pressed his lips against theirs; his hand cradled their head, keeping them close to him. They melted into his touch, their free hand gripped the fabric of his coat, grounding their weight.

“You’re right, we’ve come too far to give up now.” Markus cupped their face, his thumbs rubbed their temples in circular motions. Despite wanting this moment to last longer, (Y/N) nodded in agreement and placed a tender kiss to his wrist.

“Don’t forget we will follow you no matter what- I will follow you.”

He smiled at them, before racing up the makeshift platform with the determination to write history.

[bring-forth-your-justice]

Just in case if requests are still accepted Christmas 🎄 one-shot with Futaba Sakura x Photographer Boyfriend! Reader

Wow not me doing this on Christmas too- Pls I decided to finally be productive. Anyways, merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates ^^ As always, requests are open!

Snow Days (Futaba x Photographer reader)

With the snow fluttering like the glistening stars in the sky, and the breeze making whirlwinds outside the house, Futaba Sakura and y/n stayed bundled up inside the Sakura residence. 

“Y-y/n g-go make me hot choco this instant! I command thee using my debug commands!” 

A soft chuckle left your lips as Futaba shooed you away. You knew that in less than two minutes of being away from the warm bundle the two of you created on the ground, Futaba would wiggle her way to you (blanket included). 

So there you were, making some sweet hot chocolate for the very demonic looking gremlin seated on the floor next to your feet. It almost looked like she was going to feast upon you should the hot chocolate take any longer to make. Still you knew it would never come to that because she would begin to wine over losing her player number 2 to her appetite. That thought alone left a smile on your face as you looked upwards to the frigid, yet serene, view of the snowy landscape that remained untouched outside. 

It was finally Christmas time and while the presents were already opened, with all the wrapping paper yet to be cleaned, the festivities had yet to begin. Sojiro had gone out to get the ingredients ready inorder to prepare a heartful meal for the three of you, so it was just you and Futaba left to hold down the fort until the fort master came back. 

While gazing out towards the bundles of snow outside, you thought of a fun way to pass the time. “Fu-chan, lets go out and build a snowman!” you exclaimed, excitement verberating in your tone. 

The moment you looked down at your feet, you noticed a missing bundle of cuteness. Your eyes scanned the area somewhat alarmed by Futaba’s sudden disappearance only to notice her fully decked out in winter gear, ready to jump into the snow. 

“C’monnnn, what’re you waiting for??” 

“Well, I was waiting for someone to drink the hot chocolate I made with my blood, sweat and tears-” 

“OH, I almost forgot, sorry ehe-”

And in the blink of an eye, she was right in front of you again, gulping down that hot chocolate at speeds that even sonic would be in awe with. All the while, you looked on at the sight with concern. ‘I hope she doesn't burn her insides-’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were an aspiring photographer. Actually, you met Futaba while taking pictures of the new Phoenix Ranger figurines at the annual con. 

She startled you of course. One moment she was bombarding you with questions, the next she hid behind someone you thought might be her brother. It was a really sweet moment, to you at least. It had been a while since you met someone who was so passionate about the show. That alone caused the two of you to meet occasionally to talk about the show. 

With the snowman sitting in the background and Futaba running about in the forefront, you grabbed your camera and began to take photos. This was an opportune moment for photography you figured, especially since your girlfriend looked best when freely enjoying herself. 

Alas, the moment she noticed you, a smirk befell her features and before you knew it, an attack was set off in your direction. The snowballs came towards you at rapid speeds and you jumped to take cover from the barrage. That was until you found your footing again and began your own attack. 

It wasn’t long before the war of snow had the two of you so exhuasted that Sojiro had to physically drag the both of you inside. Once again, the two of you were a bundle of warmth on the floor. Sojiro sighed at the sight, handing you two a hot coffee and curry. He felt like this was bound to happen and was very much ready to bring out the kotatsu’s to warm the two of you up after. 

After taking a few sips of the bitter coffee, you reached out towards your camera Sojiro so kindly placed on the table. As you began to scroll through your photos you realized you caught a few in the attack. A hearty laugh left your mouth as you saw the blurry photo. The moment you showed Futaba, the two of you were a laughing mess on the floor, hysterically clutching your stomachs to stop the laughter but the more one laughed, the other did too.

Soon Sojiro came back with the kotatsu, and the moment he noticed the two dying kids on the floor, another exhuasted sigh left his lips with a chuckle following it. 

“I swear sometimes…”

[storiesforallfandoms]

something new ~ eminem

word count: 1063

request?: yes!

@girl-toxxic "I saw in an interview Em said that on Saturday mornings he gets up early to watch the new releases of rappers. So it seems to you that Reader and Em spend the morning in bed on a very snowy Saturday they get up and look at the new rappers, and they pass between kisses and hugs and a lot of fluff"

description: on a lazy saturday morning, they wake up early to see what new releases there has been

pairing: eminem x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

It was a chilly, December morning. There was fresh snow lining the ground and big, fluffy flakes falling from the sky. I huddled under the mountain of blankets, wrapped up in the warmth and not wanting to get up.

I rolled over in bed, expecting to find the warm body of my boyfriend laying next to me. Instead, I found a cold, empty spot in the bed. I peaked open one eye to confirm I had the entire bed to myself.

I blinked fully awake and braved the cold of the room to sit up. As I did, the door to the bedroom opened and Marshall walked in, carrying two mugs of coffee with him.

“Why would you ever leave this cozy bed?” I asked him as he passed me a mug.

He chuckled. “I was awake for a while and couldn’t get back to sleep, so I decided to make coffee for when you woke up.”

I wrapped my hands around the warm mug, smiling as the heat filled my hands/ Marshall got back into bed next to me, extending an arm to allow me to cuddle into his chest. I took a sip of the hot liquid before placing it on the bedside table.

We had a Saturday morning ritual that we did every week. Since Fridays were the hot days for new music to be released, Marshall liked to spend his Saturday mornings listening to new rap music, especially that of new rappers. When we started dating, Marshall would purposely make sure he wouldn’t make me on those mornings, but it didn’t take long for me to fall into that routine as well.

“Royce released an album today,” Marshall said as his phone loaded up Spotify. “I won’t listen to the whole thing, but he did tell me a few he wanted me to listen to.”

“Hopsin has a new single, too,” I said, scrolling through Twitter to see any music announcements. “You know that’s gonna be fire.”

We started with some of Royce’s music while the two of us looked online for some new rappers who had released music the night before.

A chill ran through the room, causing me to shiver. Marshall pulled the blanket up over my exposed arms and passed me my coffee mug.

“Why don’t we have the heat on in here?” I asked.

“You turn it down at night because you said you get too warm and sweaty.”

“I do, but we can turn it up in the morning.”

Marshall kissed the top of my head, which sent warmth coursing through my body. He reached behind him to turn up the heat. I heard the clicking of our heater kicking in and settled myself next to him again.

“Any good new artists?” I asked as I placed my coffee back on the bedside table.

“Plenty of new, very questionable quality,” he responded. “I don’t understand why this bullshit mumble style of rap became so popular all of a sudden. There’s plenty of great rappers who don’t get nearly enough attention because of fuckers like Tekashi and any rapper with a Lil in front of their name.”

“Don’t disrespect Peep like that,” I teased. “But I do get your point. Feels like most rap nowadays is the same copy and pasted style for everyone. Feels that way with most music actually.”

We were quiet for a moment as we continued to scroll through our phones before I started to giggle.

“What?” Marshall asked.

“We sound so old,” I said. “Back in my day, the music was actually good! It told stories and used actual instruments. These days it’s all techno and booty shaking.”

Marshall started to laugh as well. He discarded his phone somewhere on the bed and wrapped both arms around me, pulling me down so we were both laying in the warm bed yet again. I was dreading the moment I was going to have to get up and go about my day.

“I guess I am a bit of an old fucker myself,” he sighed. “I’m the type of adult I never wanted to be; one that complained about how good things used to be in my heyday.”

“You say that as if you’re not still in your heyday,” I pointed out. “Actually, I think the past two decades have been your heyday.”

Marshall chuckled again, vibrations running through his chest under me as he did. I couldn’t help but lean into his touch. I loved the days when we could just lay in bed together, not having to worry about responsibilities or obligations. Being two working adults (one of which was the most famous rapper in the world), these days were few and far between. I loved to make them last while I could.

“It’s not like you’re the only person who thinks that, though,” I said, picking up where the conversation seemed to die off. “Most people who actually like rap music feel the same way. Especially other rappers who have been doing this for so long. I know the cliché is that every generation will think their music is the best and all, but it’s hard to argue that most of today’s rap music is on par with the stuff from when we were young. Especially when you can’t even fucking understand most of it.”

"You better be careful, you’re starting to sound a little too much like me.”

I lifted my head to look up at him. “Is that such a bad thing?”

Marshall smiled at me and I couldn’t help but smile back. I screamed out when he unexpectedly pulled me back to him, holding me there for a long time.

“There’s gotta be someone who’s gonna blow you away,” I said, wiggling out of Marshall’s grasp and sitting back up on the bed. “I’m determined to find them now.”

He chuckled. “You don’t have to, babe.”

“No, I do. For myself more than anything. I need some faith in the genre, Marshall, and you can’t be the only one who provides it.”

He didn’t argue with me, although the smile on his face said he was very amused by my determination.

He sat up next to me and began looking through social media and Spotify again, and we spent that Saturday morning like we spent every Saturday morning: looking for new music and spending time together.

[lord-of-gender]

A Small Problem - Part 1

My version of @deyageka’s Childinnit au. 3145 words

Dream revived Tommy, but there were unforeseen consequences

"Dweam! I hungy," Tommy complained, he had appeared in the cell after getting revived, with almost no memory of his life. And he looked to be only five or six years old.

"Look kid, all I have are potatoes," Dream snapped. He didn't know which was worse, teen Tommy that actively disregarded him and never listened, or toddler Tommy who was just annoying and never stopped complaining.

"No, no poo-tato," he grabbed the potato Dream had handed him and chucked it in the lava. Tommy had been talking with the same mocking tone all week.

"You have got to be kidding me," Dream glared at Tommy, resisting the urge to kill him again, knowing it would be better if he was alive, even in this state.

"La, la, la, I'm singing, I'm like Wilby," Tommy said, knowing perfectly well he was getting on Dream's nerves.

"Oh thank god," Dream said when he heard footsteps echoing over the lava. "Sam! Get this child out of here!"

"Hi Sam!" Tommy yelled, his high pitched voice hardly recognizable by Sam. "You have a funny name! I am looking for Wilbur!"

"T-Tommy?" Sam said, the disbelief clear in his voice. "Tommy go the the corner in the water!"

"Why?" Tommy asked, clearly not getting the urgency of the situation.

"Just do it you child," Dream demanded, pushing Tommy towards the corner of the cell.

"Okee," Tommy made his way over and stood in the water. Within seconds he was on the other side with Sam. "Hallo! Hehe, Techno always says that. Ooh! I'm big and scawy like Techno!"

"I'm so confused, how are you alive, and why are you, younger," Sam said, not expecting a response.

"I dunno," Tommy shrugged and with a huge smirk began running away from Sam. "Weeeee, freedom!"

"Tommy!" Sam ran after him, eventually cornering him as Tommy came up to the other lava. Noticing the kid's fearful and entranced expression as he started at the lava.

"No, lava bad," he muttered, backing away from it, he didn't know why, he just didn't like it. "Where's Wilbur?"

"I don't know, why don't you come with me and we'll find him," Sam reached his hand out for Tommy to take. Eventually he did. Looking between the lava and Tommy, Sam didn't feel right making him go through all the protocol, not like this. So he lead Tommy through the guards' secret passageways until they got to the main entrance of the prison.

"What is this place," Tommy asked, "why is Dweam in there?"

"This is a place where bad people go, and Dream is a very bad man," Sam said, leading him to the lockers. "Go into the chest and give me the card in there."

"Are you going to put Techno in there," Tommy asked, opening the ender chest and pulling out what Sam had told him.

"Not unless I have to," Sam said, the thought had crossed his mind, but if he did attempt to Phil would defend Techno. The two were powerful, but had stayed isolated in the mountains and didn't currently pose a threat.

"Is this all mine," Tommy looked at the contents in the regular chest in wonder.

"Yes, but we can leave it here or I can hold onto it until we figure this out," Sam said, talking about getting Tommy back to his normal age.

"But it's mine," Tommy said, he pulled out the axe and tried swinging it around, but the weight was made for someone bigger and stronger than him so he ended up falling to the ground. "Uh, you have it. Too heavy."

"I'll give it back as soon as you get back to normal," Sam said, ruffling Tommy's hair as he put the Axe of Peace back. "But first let's get out of here."

"Okay," Tommy said and Sam took him to the secondary exit he made just in case. They landed down in the water the prison had been built on and Sam helped Tommy swim to the shore.

"Tunnel!" Tommy said, pointing at the tunnel leading to Snowchester. "Let's go there!"

"Alright, I'll take you to Snowchester." Sam crafted a boat and got in, with Tommy getting in behind him, humming to himself as they headed towards the snowy biome.

"Who lives here," Tommy asked, taking in every bit of detail and rubbing his hands together to warm up.

"Tubbo does, I think Foolish and Ranboo do as well," Sam said, he knew he would have to go back to the prison to double check all the safety protocol and move Tommy's items.

"Tubbo," Tommy perked up, "let's see Tubbo!"

"I don't think he's here right now," Sam said, he would have to go back to the Dream SMP to see if Puffy or anyone else could watch Tommy, but then he'd have to explain what happened. "Come on Tommy."

"I'm cold," he said, trudging through the snow behind Sam to Tubbo's cabin.

"I know, but you need to stay here while I go do some things," Sam said, grabbing a cloak from a chest and wrapping it around Tommy. "I don't think Tubbo will mind if you look around."

"Who's up there," Tommy asked, hearing noises from the attic. He went over to the ladder and climbed up and opened the trapdoor to see Micheal entertaining himself. "Hallo! I'm Tommy."

"Oh, that's Micheal," Sam said, climbing up behind him. "Be careful. I have to go. Don't go outside, okay?"

"Okee," Tommy said, looking intently at Micheal as he snorted to himself. Tommy then made some piglike noises, making the young zombie piglin perk up and squeal in excitement.

"Wait, you know piglin," Sam asked, pausing as he started back down.

"Techno teached me, he's a pig-in," Tommy said, then made more noises and the two children continued to talk to each other. "Go away now."

"Well have fun, stay safe Tommy," Sam said, climbing down and closing the doors behind him.

Michael started to point at the photos of him, Ranboo, and Tubbo. Tommy looked at them and searched his memory, as far as he could remember Phil didn't have any pictures like that. Michael oinked as he offered Tommy a handful of cake. His stomach rumbled as he looked at the treat.

"Here I can give you a potato," Tommy said, offering one of the raw potatoes he had left over from the prison. "I don't like them." Michael lit up and took the potatoes, happily eating them.

"Hi Michael," Tubbo came up to see them, they hadn't even heard him open the door. "I'm back buddy."

"Michael wishes you and Ranboo were home more, and he's cold," Tommy said, pulling Tubbo's attention to him. "Hallo!"

"I- hello, who are you," Tubbo asked, he didn't think any other children were on the server, let alone human children.

"It's me, Tommy, remember me Tubbo," Tommy grinned, cake frosting covering his mouth. Tubbo froze. There was no way, it was impossible, he was seeing things. He had to be. Slowly Tubbo climbed back down the ladder.

"How is he," Ranboo asked, carrying a armful of red berry branches, he had slowly been working on clearing out all the berry bushes so Michael could safely walk around outside.

"I-I uh, he's cold," Tubbo stammered, still not fully processing what he found out.

"I can make him a coat, we do have the extra fabric," Ranboo said, he climbed up the ladder to see Tommy and Michael.

"You need this more than I do," Tommy pulled off the cloak and wrapped it around Michael. "I'll ask them to put a fireplace up here."

"Well hello there, who are you," Ranboo said, closing the trapdoor behind him. He sat down in front of the boys.

"Tommy," he said gleefully, "I was stuck with a bad man called Dweam, Sam took me here. He's looking for Wilbur."

"I- okay, do you remember anything before that," Ranboo asked, wondering if he knew everything that Tommy did. "Do you remember me?"

"Uh, no, but you're Ranboo right?" Tommy asked, "and why is Dweam in prison? What bad things did he do?"

"Well he killed multiple people, he blew up something that used to be Tubbo's, he stole some things of yours and did alot of bad things to you," Ranboo said, not mentioning how Dream had used him as well.

"Well I don't remember," Tommy said, he looked at Michael who had been jumping in the corner and snorted to him. "He wants to go outside."

"You understand him," Ranboo asked, he had been trying to find a book on piglin but now that he knew Tommy could speak it that would be a big help.

"Yeah, Techno taught me," Tommy said, making Ranboo feel stupid. Of course, he should have asked Techno to teach him, but then again he had no idea when he would wake up, and he might end up having to tell Techno about Michael.

"What do you remember," Ranboo asked, trying to get a better idea of what happened to Tommy, even if he wouldn't remember.

"Uh, Philza and Wilbur are my family, Techno is a friend of Dadza's, he was the ruler of some place," Tommy stifled a yawn, "the Antarctic Empire."

"Do you want to stay here until Sam comes back," Ranboo asked, Tommy nodded, leaning his head against him.

"Mhm," Tommy mumbled, the events of the past week finally catching up with him. Now that he was outside and could see the sun his lack of sleep started to take hold.

"I'll see if we have an extra blanket," Ranboo said as Michael looked at Tommy curiously. He went down the ladder to see Tubbo muttering to himself.

"Ranboo, please tell me I was just seeing things up there," Tubbo said, pacing around. "Cause I thought I saw Tommy, young Tommy."

"Oh he's there alright," Ranboo said, "I didn't believe it at first, but of course I've never seen young Tommy. So he couldn't have been an illusion."

"But how is he alive," Tubbo said, sitting down on one of the chests.

"Maybe Sam will know, cause Tommy doesn't remember why he was in there," Ranboo said, he grabbed their extra blanket. "But he is cute like this."

"Don't let him know that," Tubbo let out a small chuckle. When Ranboo went back up Tommy had fallen asleep in Michael's bed, Michael was lying down by him.

"Tubbo, get up here, you need to see this," Ranboo whisper yelled.

"What is it," Tubbo came up and 'aww'ed when he saw the two boys sleeping next to each other. "I forgot how peaceful he is when asleep."

"He sleeps like a baby," Ranboo said, "we're not letting this go when he gets back to normal, right?"

"Definitely not," Tubbo laughed, imagining the amount of teasing they could do with this.

"Ranboo, Tubbo, are you guys here," Sam called from downstairs.

"Shh, Tommy just fell asleep," Ranboo jumped down with Tubbo following behind. "So why is he like this?"

"Dream said he brought Tommy back," Sam said, "and he isn't happy this happened."

"Back, like back from the dead," Tubbo clarified.

"Yes, I'm going to try to look through my books and see if there's anyway to fix this," Sam said, "I just wanted to make sure Tommy was okay, are you guys good to watch him? If not I'm sure I could find Puffy or someone else."

"Well once he wakes up I could take Tommy with me, he's talked alot about Phil and Techno," Ranboo offered.

"I don't know, Phil hasn't been the best parent to Tommy in the past," Sam said, "I'd much rather have him stay here, where I know he's safe."

"Well we can't keep this a secret forever, the entire server knows he died," Tubbo said.

"But if the Eggpire knows he's alive they'll go after him," Sam said, "Sam Nook warned me that they were trying to kill him."

"I think alot more than just them were after him," Ranboo said, "If I remember correctly Niki said Jack had tried to kill him." He left out the part of Niki trying to as well, but she had changed, and she was part of the Syndicate.

"So we keep this between us right now, once we get Tommy aged back up he can decide what he wants to do," Sam said.

"I'll look through Phil's library for a solution," Ranboo pulled out his book to write down a reminder.

"We still have to tell someone, there's going to be times when we're all busy," Tubbo said, "and Tommy's not going to be as willing as Michael to stay here all day."

"I think we can trust Puffy, and possibly Quackity, that way he can be around different people," Sam said, he would have to check how close Tommy and Quackity were. Foolish was an option as well, and could protect Tommy if it came to it, but with the Eggpire attacking Foolish he wasn't so sure.

Later that day Ranboo had met up with Philza to help him work on his cabin. Phil was in the basement, trading with Techno's villagers.

"So Phil, can I ask you about something?" Ranboo said, coming down to help him.

"Of course mate, what's up," Phil said.

"What's the 'Antarctic Empire'," Ranboo asked, what Tommy said earlier stuck with him. And he knew it was safer to ask Phil before Techno.

"Do not ever bring that up with Techno," Phil said, his tone dark and warning. "Where the fuck did you hear that?"

"I- uh, Ghostbur mentioned something about it so I got curious," Ranboo lied, remembering that Sam had wanted to keep Tommy on the down-low for the time being.

"Alright, just don't tell Techno that I told you," Phil said, "the Antarctic Empire is a land far from here, it's where Techno lived before coming here. It's not quite an empire anymore and is the reason he hates government. He saw the state of everyone who lived there and hated himself for it. So he ended his reign and went into hiding, watching as the Empire tore themselves apart."

"That's crazy," Ranboo said, "but it does explain alot."

The next day Sam had run into Quackity while trying to find Puffy or Ranboo. He needed someone to watch Tommy, but Tuboo said he had other things to do.

"Oh thank god, Quackity can you do something for me," Sam said, stopping him.

"Uh, what is it," Quackity asked as Sam threw a book to him.

"Read that and go into the second floor suite of Tommy's hotel," Sam said, "you are to tell no one, if you have any questions find Tubbo or Ranboo."

"What the fuck, I have things I need to do myself," Quackity called as Sam ran off to finish repairing the prison, but with the mining fatigue he didn't know how long it would take him. Quackity sighed as he looked at the book, it wasn't titled and he decided to just pocket it. He walked to the hotel and when he confirmed Jack wasn't there, went up where Sam told him.

"Hallo!" Tommy waved, making Quackity jump. "Are you Big Q?"

"No, no, no," Quackity shook his head, it had to be some cruel joke.

"No?" Tommy said, "are you sad?"

"No! What's your name?" Quackity said, there was no way this was Tommy. He wasn't a kid, he was dead.

"Tommy, I'm five," he said, then walking back to what he was doing. He took a yellow paper he had cut out and put together, and put it on his head. It was a crown. "I'm like Techno!"

"Okay, but why are you a child," Quackity pulled out the book and began to read it. It explained to him the situation as far as they knew, that he was to keep Tommy hidden, and the added death threat if anything happened to Tommy.

"What's wrong with being a child," Tommy asked, everyone had been talking as if him being like this was wrong. This statement make Quackity burst out laughing, the older Tommy would have never said that.

"I don't know, I mean you're probably less of a handful at this age," Quackity said, ruffling Tommy's hair. He had to make the most of this, and he had the perfect idea of how. "How would you like to help me annoy an old grumpy ghost?"

"Sure," Tommy grabbed the moth toy he had spent all of last night begging Sam and Tubbo to make. "Ready."

"What's your moth's name," Quackity asked as he and Tommy left the hotel. Tommy waved by to Sam Nook as they passed him.

"His name is Clementine," Tommy said, Quackity tried not to laugh again as his British accent fully came out when he said the name. "And you have to say it just like me."

"Okay kid," Quackity spotted Jack in the distance, he was coming in their direction. "Listen to me, we're going to play superheroes right now. My name is Big Q, and yours, what's a name you like?"

"Bird man!" Tommy said, Quackity shook his head, there was no way Jack would buy that. "No, um, Sleepy Boi! It's what Wilbur would call us."

"That works. Now I need you to tell everyone you see that's your name, cause we're under cover and we can't let anyone know our real names," Quackity said, he just had to hope Jack would fall for it.

"Okee Big Q," Tommy said as they passed Jack. He originally walked right by, but did a double take when he saw Tommy.

"Wait is that- no that's impossible," Jack stopped, he said it to no one in particular, but Quackity had heard him.

"Who? This kid," Quackity asked, playing it off. "Why don't you tell Jack your name."

"I'm Sleepy Boi!" Tommy said, putting his fist in the air. There was a moment of confusion on Jack's face, but he seemed to buy it.

"Well if this little guy wants to have a room in my hotel, I might be willing to give it at a discount," Jack said, "well I have work to do, see you around Big Q."

"But that's my hotel," Tommy said as Jack went out of earshot, "Sam told me."

"Well right now you're not old enough to own the hotel," Quackity said, "and because Jack is the only employee he automatically got ownership when you were in the prison."

"I'm going to fire him as soon as I take it back," Tommy said, his head held high.

"Alright, you do that," Quackity chuckled, there was a small chance he would actually do that once they found a way to fix him.

[wyattwaslesslazy]

"Wow.." his voice is hushed, full of awe and wonder

Rune's eyes glistened as he watched the white snow dance and sway delicately in the air, cascading down and following wherever the wind pushed them until they finally landed, adding to the blanket of snow at the ground. It's Gorgeous, the morning sun had not yet fully risen. Rays of light filter out through the trees, painting the snow in golden and orange hues, lighting up and filing in that blank white.

Rune feels a shiver go up his spine at the chill air lapping at his face, his breath just as visible as a certain Snowy ghoul he knows. It's such an interesting thing to see on him! He can't help but grin as he starts letting out deep breath after breath, trying to get more and more clouds of steam to fall from his lips. Of course he isn't immune to becoming lightheaded over this, earning him a dizzy head.

Still he grins as he watches the snow fall from the front door. He leans out slightly now, watching the Grey sky with such a big grin- yet a cold and rather large flake to one of his horn has him stumbling backwards right into a passing ghoul. The ghoul huffs and shoves rune back the other way and rune is left stumbling until he trips face first into the snow with a loud, frantic yelp.

The cold envelops him, and though, as soft as the snow feels, it's still really freezing and has him jumping up and out of the pile he fell in with a loud, joyful "ah!! That's so cold!" He laughs, hopping up onto his feet and trying to cross his arms to warm up his hands.

He looks back to the warm sanctity that is the ministry- and yet.. he looks back to the wistful wonderland before him and grins excitedly. Ah! Proper clothes be damned, he wants to enjoy this.

With a loud laugh and another hop around the snow, rune is running around, hopping into cold piles of snow, picking it up and tossing it around and even rolling around making happy little snow devils. As much as he's having the time of his life, at least someone with common sense had to retrieve him.

Of all the ghouls that could have found little Rune, Poe is glad it was him. He doesn't have anything against the other ghouls nor his own pack, but he knows that sometimes the Fire ghoul can get rather stubborn and needs someone who will put their foot down and refuse to budge. Usually he himself or Papa Emeritus II are the ones who can do so. And so the water ghoul throws on his own jacket and sets off towards the ghoul.

"Rune!"

Rune's ears perked up as poe yelled after him- however he was quick to devise a devious plan.. he already knew he was about to be fussed over and told to 'put on something warmer! You'll catch a cold! Blah blah blah!' Well this energetic rune wasn't having ANY of that! He feels the adrenalin pumping through his veins, warming his firey core much more, so he dowsnt need it! With a quick start and an excited squeak, rune makes a break for it, scrambling off and hopping into a rather large pile of snow entirely. Hes giggling the entire way over. It's adorable. With the way he hopped in, he's entirely hidden, minus of course the tail that peaks out and wags enthusiastically.

Poe pinches the bridge of his nose and let's out a deep sigh. "Of course today rune decides to be hard headed, of course." He mumbles, irritation bubbling off into more amusement and fondness for his old pack member. He rolls his eyes with a smile and starts off towards the other, watching in amusement as he can clearly see his pierced tail flicking snow here and there.

He's entirely ready to grab him up from the snow, tease him about how poor of a hiding spot that is. Of course, this thought is quite literally knocked out of him. Rune had been entirely ready to pounce,  eagerly awaiting for the other to step right where he wanted him. And when he did? He pounced, launching himself at poe and succeeding in making him topple over.

"HaHA!! I got you! Rune wins, and poe loses!" He states with a loud laugh, pressing his finger to the middle of poes forehead.

Of course when poe comes to his senses, shaking the daze from his head he gives rune such an unimpressed look. It however quickly turns into a huffed laugh as he swats away runes finger "yes, yes you do win. And your prize?"

Rune's eyes sparkle at the mention of a prize.. he excitedly pats his hands on Poes chest, leaning on them as his tail wags happily behind him "yes?? What's my prize? Tell me!"

Oh, poe almost wants to laugh at how excited rune is right now, but especially at how quick his excitement will shatter. "A fucking jacket like I was trying to tell you earlier." He states before grabbing rune, arms wrapped around his back and pressing him into him as he surges forward, taking the shorter ghoul with him as he gets himself back on his feet. Rune whines and kicks his feet but it's no match for Poe's strength.

"Come on kid, when we're done suiting you up you can go back out. I'll even have Kevin get the other ghouls to play with you. He'll even make hot chocolate for everyone when we're done"

[spencersimp]

12 Days of Christmas with Spencer: Day 4

Day 4: snowball fight

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Warnings: just a little bit of cursing. fluffy fluff!

A/N: did I skip yesterday yes I absolutely did but here is day 4 a day late!

12 Days of Christmas with Spencer Masterlist

“Y/N! Y/N, wake up!”

You were shaken awake by Spencer, not an uncommon occurrence given that he was your very best friend in the world and he often slept over.

You totally weren’t in love with him though.

Blinking at the harsh light, you squinted your eyes open and tried your best to give Spencer a glare. “What?”

He was grinning—it was way too early to be grinning. He looked like a damn kid in the candy store about to explode out of his skin from excitement. “It snowed overnight!”

You blinked again, this time your eyes opening wide. “Really?” It hadn’t snowed in Quantico in a couple years, and you hadn’t seen anything on the forecast lately to indicate otherwise.

“Yeah! Come look,” Spencer urged, beckoning you to come follow him to the living room.

You did a nice, big stretch to fully wake yourself up before tip-toeing behind Spencer. A gasp left your mouth when you looked out the window and saw the sparkling white blanket of snow covering everything outside of your apartment building.

Spencer was beaming. “I know, isn’t it beautiful?”

You shared a smile with him, unable to ignore the ridiculously sappy, intrusive thought that he, actually, was more beautiful. “Yeah. We should go outside!”

“You read my mind.”

The two of you quickly bundled up in thick layers complete with hats, scarves and gloves before rushing outside and damn near frolicking. Spencer was giddier than you’d seen him maybe ever, and it made you feel surprisingly warm in the freezing temperatures.

“I think I’m gonna attempt my very first snowman,” you announced. You never had much snow growing up, and even when you did, it was never enough to build a snowman. This snow, however, was more than enough, and you were going to take advantage.

Spencer’s eyebrows raised in shock. “You’ve never built a snowman?”

“Nope.” You knelt down and began gathering snow in your hands.

“Well then we are definitely building snowmen.”

The two of you worked in silence with Spencer a few feet behind you when suddenly it got…too quiet.

And that’s when you felt a cold blast hit you in the back of your head.

You whirled around, mouth falling open in shock as you stared down a very guilty Spencer. He looked like he felt bad, but also like he was about to bust out laughing any second.

“I’m sorry,” he rushed out, failing to hide a grin as he raised his arms in surrender. “I’ve—I’ve just never hit anyone with a snowball before and I kind of always wanted to because it looked fu—“

Too busy rambling out an apology, he wasn’t quick enough to stop you from gathering a ball of snow of your own and throwing it at him. Luckily for you, you had great aim. You got him right in the face as he was mid-ramble.

Spencer sputtered, wiping his face and furiously blinking away the wet snow in his eyes. “You did not.”

You bit your lip in an attempt to stifle a laugh but failed miserably. “Oh, I think I did.”

The grin on Spencer’s face only grew. “Oh, you’re so gonna get it.”

And then he was running at you.

You squealed, taking off in the opposite direction and running as fast as you could from him. Both of you were in hysterics, spitting taunts at one another in between pants as he chased you.

“Gotcha!” Strong arms wrapped around you from behind, causing you to squeal in surprise. He twirled you around as the two of you giggled wildly, but then he slipped, bringing the two of you onto the cold, cushioned, snowy ground. He landed on top of you.

You both stared at one another with smiles wide enough to split your faces in two, still panting from all the running.

“I got you,” he breathed out, his cheeks flushed.

You subconsciously licked your lips, the action not going unnoticed by Spencer. “You got me.” The two of you stared at each other in silence, finally catching your breaths. Your heart was beating wildly in your chest, and you brought your voice down to a whisper. “What are you gonna do now?”

His eyes searched yours, looking for any hesitation but finding none, and then he leaned in. Spencer Reid, your best friend and the secret love of your life, was kissing you in the snow, and it was nothing less than perfect. You wrapped your arms around his neck, keeping him close. He was kissing you like he was making up for lost time, and it left you breathless. He reluctantly pulled away when you began to shiver from laying on the snow, and he softly nuzzled your nose.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since I met you,” he admitted quietly.

“I’ve been wanting you to do that since you met me,” you replied with a grin, and he matched it.

“It sounds like I should’ve hit you with a snowball a long time ago.”

You cackled, hitting him playfully on the shoulder.

Spencer stood and helped you up, wrapping his arms around you. “Well, it looks like I’m stuck at your place for a while, not that I’m complaining. How does hot chocolate sound?”

You sighed happily.

“Sounds perfect.”

[tommyspeakycap]

Can we get baby little Shelby find a bunny and ask Tommy and John to take it home. And get scolded by Polly when they at home? 💕💕

more pre war Tommy fluff ;) 

Bunny

“Tommy!”

The dark haired man’s heart flies into his throat, his mind immediately kicking into gear as he drops the coin he was about to flip. He was deciding whether or not to buy a horse with a new inflow of cash they had recently gotten. That horse is lost the second he hears the shriek that came from somewhere behind him. The heavy boots on his feet make easy work of crushing through powdery snow, but give a very little to prevent him from tripping and slipping; although the fear coursing through him and his extreme haste may well have contributed to his somewhat uncoordinated limbs.

In the maybe a minute that it takes form Tommy to get from where he was to where he had traced his little sister to, a million and one thoughts race through his mind. He fears every worst case scenario his mind can conjure up and immediately blames himself for bringing you out to the country to play in some fresh snow with John and Finn. The air was much clearer out here and so too was Tommy’s mind. He could think, be free of the city smoke and the harsh environment that appears to be tacked to his work in the family business. There was so much pressure on the raven haired bookmaker to uphold his own personal morals while also living a notoriously immoral life. He tried to keep his hands clean, prevent himself from muddying the line between pointless violence and the necessary survival and protection of his family.

So going with his 5 year old little sister out to the county was something not uncommon for him. And the snow had only given him more reason to. He regretted that now.

“What-” Tommy wheezed out, unable to speak for lack of his breath after attempting to run through the deep, deep snow. “What’s happened,” he coughs, “Are you alri-“

“Tommy!” The little girl whispers harshly, waving her hands at him disapprovingly, “Shhhhh, you’ll scare it away!” Tommy snaps his mouth shut, instead opting to take the five year olds outstretched hand and crouch down as she instructs him. On her other side is John; crouched down with one arm around Finn to keep him still. “What are we looking at?” Tommy asks quietly, his neck craned to try and spot whatever his other siblings had noticed. 

“It’s a bunny, Tom. Look.” (y/n) points with her little hand and Tommy follows the general direction in which her hand is showing him. In doing so, he squints and finds his gaze falling upon a small white rabbit sitting picking a blade of grass that it had pulled through the snow. “They want to take it home.” John states, grinning at Tommy something like a Cheshire Cat because he knows for a fact that man isn't able to say no to the puppy dogs eyes of (y/n) and Finn Shelby when they truly wanted something.

“Hm, I don't think so.” He mumbles, trying to keep his eyes off of the disappointed face of his younger siblings. “You know Aunt Polly’ll go mad.” The second he does turn his head to see his youngest siblings gazing up at him in the desperate way he knows always works, he regrets it. “Please Tommy, pleeeease?” (y/n) begs, clasping her cold little hands together and pulling her most convincing puppy eyes Tommy might've ever seen. “Yeah Tommy, please? Pretty pretty please?” Finn joins in, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement and anticipation at the idea of having the little bunny as a pet. 

“Yeah Tom,” John sniggers, stubbing out his cigarette on the snowy ground. The elder brother puts on a pout to mimic (y/n) and Finn, not serving to make things any easier for Tommy as the youngest two weren't able to pick up on John’s teasing nature and sarcastic reiteration of their words. They took it as encouragement while Tommy knew John would be going home to Martha and his own kids, thus wouldn't have to be on the reviewing end of Polly’s temper. Tommy rolls his eyes and inhales deeply, thinking briefly about how angry Polly would be compared to how much it would make you and Finn giggle to have a pet even if only for a while before Tommy would free it back into the wild and tell some lie about a magic bunny farm. The kids chanting brought his mind back. “Please, please, please!” 

“Alright,” Tommy cuts them off, “Alright. But we’re not chasing it around all afternoon.”

--

How on earth Tommy ended up holding his little sister as he stood in the doorway of the Shelby family home kicking the snow off his boots while said little sister had his big trench coat wrapped around her and her smaller jacket used as a blanket for their new bunny rabbit friend, he will never know. He genuinely felt like if he had been outside for one more minute he would have actually frozen stiff, however it was always his top priority that his littlest sibling was as safe as she could be; so it was suffice to say the idea of her getting frostbite and slash or hypothermia after she insisted on wrapping the little rabbit in her own coat was less than appealing to Tommy, so she could keep his warm winter jacket as long as she desired.

“Right Finn, straight into the living room and not a peep to Pol alright?” Finn nods vigorously in a show of his determination to follow his brothers order as he places the wrapped up bunny into the young boys arms. Finn tries to run as unsuspiciously as he can past Polly in the kitchen to go through to the living room where only Ada sat, reading a book by the fire underneath a blanket. 

“Tommy?” The little girls voice draws an “Mhm?” from him as he battles to get her stiff winter boots off of her tiny cold feet. “What're we going to name him?” She enquires, her voice as inquisitive as any other curious 5 year old is. Tommy hums in thought, tapping (y/n)’s other foot in the way that he does that tells her to put her foot down and lift the other one for Tommy to pull that boot off too. There was a distinct routine between the two that had been established in the last five years of her life with Tommy acting as her primary caregiver.

“I don't know, love. Whatever you want to call him. Just remember to stay quiet about it yeah?” He looks up to see his little sister nodding firmly, placing her finger over her lips just as Tommy had done so many times when secrecy or silence was needed. 

“Alrighty then.” Tommy says, lifting both the pairs of boots easily in one hand and putting them by the other shoes. He moves his hands to under the small girls armpits and hoists her gently back up onto his hip as to avoid her stepping small puddles of water that had collected from the snow on her boots and his by the door. “Shall we go see what your brothers gotten up to with that-” 

“Jesus fucking Christ Tommy.” 

Both siblings turn their heads quickly to face Polly when they hear her speaking with her stern scolding tone turned on. Polly immediately notes how Tommy looks slightly secretive, like he was ready to start either lying or making some form excuse for something for which her niece looked rather guilty. Deer in the headlights kind of expression. “Look, Pol...” Tommy begins, but is interrupted by his aunt firmly shaking her head and marching towards him. 

“I’ve told you a million times Thomas. She’s five. That means you do still need to put her bloody hat on when you take her out in the cold but you don’t need to fucking carry her everywhere.” She huffs, pressing both her palms against (y/n)’s cold rosy cheeks, “Shes bloody freezing.” Her scolding tone never fails to make Tommy feels as though he’s still a young boy who’s been caught misbehaving by his aunt. However now he’s an adult with responsibility for his little sister and somehow, he ends up on the receiving end of that tone far more than the littlest member of the family ever will. Polly peels Tommy’s coat away off the little girl in his arms so she could hang it up to hopefully dry some before he next needs it and (y/n) doesn't mind not wearing her brothers jacket anymore, however the words that Polly speaks about putting her back down only serves to make her cling a little tighter subconsciously. 

“She's only little, Pol.” Tommy defends, “And we had long day, haven’t we sweetheart?” Polly wants to scoff when (y/n) nods her head and offers up that angel smile that wins the hearts of her entire family, but the woman can’t help but smile back and shake her head. “Well,” she huffs slightly, her hand reaching back up to the little girl to to brush the snow off (y/n)’s hair, “I think the very least your brother could do if he was going to have you out in the freezing cold all day would be to put a bloody hat on you.” 

The little girl giggles, flicking her eyes to Tommy to inspect his reaction to their aunts words. 

“Remembered.” He notes flippantly with a grin and Polly knows fully well that it was not remembered because putting a hat on top of that little girls soft locks of hair was something he had never once remembered to do without a reminder since she was merely a little bald baby. 

“Course.” She responds teasingly, “Dinner’s out soon.”

Tommy nods his head before Polly walks away in the direction of the kitchen again, where Tommy had no doubt Arthur is now lingering to pick off the scraps of dinner before its put out on the table for everyone else. 

“That was a close one, Tom.” The little girl on his hip whispers quietly, her wide eyes causing Tommy to chuckle heartily as he takes them both through to the living room to see what Finn and now likely Ada were doing with this rabbit. “Yes,” Tommy agrees, walking into the living room “It very much was. Hello Ada.” Ada immediately rolls her eyes at the sound of Tommy’s voice. 

“Pol’s going to kill you, you know.” She states, standing and crossing her arms firmly over her chest as Tommy sets his youngest sister down on the floor to run over to where Finn sat with the bunny close to the heat the fire was giving off. “Probably.” Tommy nods.

Ada turns away to wrap her blanket around her only sister, the one she had wished and prayed for since she had been merely a little girl herself. Tommy vividly remembers the many occasions when Ada was not only his youngest sibling, but also his only sister and recalls how unhappy she had been about those facts. Finn being born eased only one of those issues, but Ada rested a while for the time that Finn was a baby before again pestering their mother about wanting a little sister again. 

She had been ecstatic when (y/n) was born, and she had been besotted with that sweet little girl ever since. 

“You always forget to put her hat on, Thomas.” Ada chastises, the reprimand drawing a chuckle from her brother who takes a seat down on the couch and crosses one leg on top of the other. “So I’ve heard.” Tommy mumbles under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear and stretch out her leg to kick his when she too sat back down on the couch.

“Twat.” She hisses. 

It was Tommy’s turn to role his eyes at his sisters flippant comment, paying no mind to her words thrown in a light tease that he knew she only ever half meant.

“That’s not very nice, Ada.” 

(y/n) doesn't do so much as turn around when she chides those words in dismay to Ada’s insult aimed at her Tom. There was no hiding how the little girl adored Tommy. “Exactly Ada,” Tommy grins widely, giving Ada the biggest shit eating look he can muster as he tried not to laugh, “And that’s why you're my favourite, aren't you my love?” The 5 year old simply nods her head in response to her brothers words before turning straight back to play with her new pet. 

“Well, she might be your favourite but you certainly won’t be Polly’s once she sees you’ve brought that home. She’ll go mad.” Ada nods her head in the direction of the fluffy white animal in their living room. Tommy shrugs his shoulders indifferently, “They're happy though, aren't they? and quiet. Worth it really.” 

Ada knew very well that Tommy was right, although it was likely that she wouldn't even think to much on that in his vicinity, just incase he even got the sensation that she was thinking he was in the right. They’ve got a big family and a lot of hard work had to go into making business run smoothly to provide for everyone. The younger kids can sometimes go amiss to the elder siblings on particularly busy days. Sometimes playing and talking to them gets overlooked or their clothes go on back to front because everyone forgot they sometimes still needed help with things like that. 

So giving them the simple pleasure of almost a normal childhood - not one living with the Shelby name and subsequently the future of the Peaky Blinders tacked to them - by letting them a pet that they can look after and love on for a few days at least was something Tommy was willing to grin and bare the wrath of Polly Gray for. 

He was a sucker for that little girl, so when she’s happy there are few things in the world Thomas Shelby wouldn't endure to keep it that way.