#he is all bundled and cozy in the frozen world

[cnidariandreams]

zox and stacey when they bump fists/forearms over stupid shit

[borathae]

Kiss the Cook

“Yoongi loves to cook for you. You love to watch him as he does and soon you can’t take it anymore. You have to kiss him or you will implode.”

Pairing: Yoongi x f.Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, Slice of Life, domestic Fluff

Warnings: cutie!Yoongi, Yoongi being a sexy cook, i said what i said, he blushes!, she feeds him some tangerines <3, as she sits on the kitchen counter, making out on said counter, Yoongi in a woolen jumper, idk but this is so hot to me and therefore needs a warning, they’re grossly in love!!!, i want what they have #bigsad

Wordcount: 2.7k

a/n: i love him, i love them, i love her, i love this :( enjoy besties, oy!Yoongi is going to be the fucking death of me fjdjasf he is such a cutie ❤ ps: does a story sometimes make you feel so single or discontent with your current love life that you want to claw your own eyes out? yeah. this is that story for me. i want what they have fuxkxk they feel so mature and settled and :( grrr spreading negativity all around me grrrr

You invited Yoongi over for dinner and wine. Which means that he comes over to your place to cook while you watch him and sip on wine. Now, this isn’t because you are lazy or you are forcing him to cook. On the contrary, it was Yoongi’s idea. He loves cooking for you, so you learned, and these little dinner dates have become a regular thing in your relationship.

And it is perfect. You get to see him and talk to him. He gets to do something he loves whilst talking to you. And at the end of it, you can share the yummiest dinner ever and experience a giddy tingle in your stomachs.

You invited him over tonight for exactly such a dinner date. You dressed up in a thick jumper and some woolen socks and even did your hair.

It has been snowing rather vividly all day, turning the roads into one powdery white plane with the rest of the world. The weeping willow in front of your sunroom is bending under the weight of the snow and the frozen stream is covered under a heavy layer of it as well. It is such a beautiful view, making you happy to be inside where it is warm and cozy.

Levi, your cute little cat, hasn’t left his spot by the fireplace all day. He spends most of his winter days napping where it is warm or watching the very few winter birds eat from your bird feeder. He will not leave for outside, however, that much is sure. It is way too much work to soil his good fur with sticky, wet snow.

You check the time again. Ten past eight. Yoongi should have been here by eight. You pace in front the sunroom windows, looking at the faint lights where his house might be. He decorated the outside with lots of Christmas lights and on the nights where you miss him, you like to stand in the sunroom and look up at the lights. Whenever you do, it feels as if he was right there with you. 

Tonight however, the view makes you uneasy. Where is Yoongi and why isn’t he here yet? Did he slip and hit his head? Did a huge chunk of snow fall on him and he is now buried alive somewhere? Is he stuck somewhere? Did he forget?

Nervously biting your own nails, you hurry to the front door to take another peek outside. 

“Oh, shit!” Yoongi exclaims, stumbling back and almost dropping the grocery bags he is carrying under his arms.

You flinch back too, not having expected him to literally stand right in front of the door in the midst of ringing your bell.

“Sorry, you scared me”, he apologises for his cursing. He is bundled into the thickest winter coat ever, wearing a beanie, scarf and gloves with it. His snow pants are covered in snow up to his thighs, his winter boots are basically white from all the snow. The last few inches of his coat are opened. Holly, wearing a little beanie as well, is peeking out from it. Yoongi must have bundled him up in it to keep him warm. The view is adorable.

“You scared me too. I wanted to check if I could spot you. Come in”, you say, stepping out of the doorway.

“Yeah, sorry for being late. I underestimated the height of the snow. I had to fight my way down here without falling on my butt. I waddled like I was ninety.” 

“No worries, I’m just so happy that you’re here now and that you’re safe. I already pictured the worst scenarios ever.” 

Yoongi chuckles, “I survived. Barely, but I survived.”

You laugh. He is so funny, making you laugh again when he struggles with undressing.

“Wait. Let me take the bags so you have your hands free.”

“Thanks.” 

“Of course, I’ll carry them to the kitchen if you don’t mind.”

“Go ahead, I’ll be with you soon.”

You are in the midst of unpacking the groceries when Yoongi and Holly join you in the kitchen. Holly greets you first, jumping up your leg and barking excitedly. 

You coo, picking him up to let him lick your face. 

“I missed you too, you little stinker. Aw big kissies, yes big kissies.”

“He really missed you”, Yoongi says, walking to you. 

“Yeah, I missed him too.” You hand him Holly. “And I missed his dad even more. Hey there, handsome”, you say, stealing a kiss. 

Yoongi smiles into it, rubbing your waist as the kiss breaks.

“Hey there, beautiful. I missed you too.” He says and then takes a step back to set down Holly. The little toy poodle instantly sets off to explore your home and look for Levi. 

Yoongi studies your get-up, “I love what you did with your hair. It suits you.”

“Thank you, heh. I tried something new.”

“It’s nice, really beautiful.”

“Thankies. Uhm, wine?” You offer. “I might have already started without you because I was picturing you dying somewhere.”

He laughs, “what a relaxing thing to do. I won’t say no to some wine, thank you.”

You prepare him a glass, then cheer with him. He enjoys it with a hum. Afterwards he touches your hip and kisses your cheek. You lean into it, smiling from ear to ear. He is always so gentle with you. You love it so much.

“I hope that you’re hungry. I’m making risotto tonight”, Yoongi says.

“Yes risotto! I love risotto. I haven’t eaten since twelve because I wanted to be really hungry tonight.” 

Yoongi smiles and begins. He puts on the apron you made for him and rolls up his sleeves. Well, at least he tries to because you stop him before he can.

“Wait, let me.”

He gazes at your face as you work, cheeks slightly flushed and heart racing. 

“Thanks”, he whispers, trying oh so hard not to expose how giddy he actually feels. Spoiler alert, he feels very giddy. You are always so tender with him. He loves it so much.

Yoongi is wearing a brown jumper made out of the softest wool. It is warm and sits on his body in the most perfect of ways. His chest and back are defined in it, but he still looks snuggly. You feel so attracted to him that it is difficult not to bite him. In an adoring way of course. 

It also isn’t helping that he is wearing your favourite cologne and a watch which really fits his wrist. Once his sleeves are rolled up, you can’t help but feel up his arms just once. You trace his veins, squeeze him and play with his fingers.

Yoongi chuckles lazily, closing his hands around yours.

“Is this still part of the service?” 

“No, this was for me. You look really sexy in this jumper.”

He smiles and pulls you close to steal a kiss. You give it to him with a fluttering heart, gazing deep into his eyes once it breaks. He has the most beautiful eyes.

“I put it on for you. Because you once said that you like me in a jumper.”

“I do. I could bite you, I’m serious.”

“Please don’t”, he laughs and pecks your cheek, “I’ll be quick with dinner, promise. No biting needs to happen.”

“Maybe a little bit of biting.”

He laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“If I knew that I would be dating a biter, I might have reconsidered”, he jokes, busy with setting up some pans.

“You like it. Don’t lie”, you say and sit down on the kitchen counter.

“Maybe I do.”

You snicker, picking up a tangerine to peel it as he cooks.

And so it begins. One of the coziest and most beloved date activity as a couple. He cooks while you watch him. There are only a few things better than this. 

You have the radio playing. Christmas songs because it is almost time for the holidays. The tangerine fills the air with a cozy scent and the wine tastes especially good. Whenever you and he aren’t lost in conversation, you can listen to Yoongi hum to the songs on the radio. He has a very nice singing voice. Deep and warm. You could listen to it for hours. Just as you could listen to him talk for hours.

“How are your legs by the way? Did the snow soak through your snow pants?” you ask him, staring at his butt. 

It isn’t your fault, he is wiggling it to the music. It is his fault that you have to take a sneaky look.

“Mhm? No, my legs are fine. The snow didn’t soak through.”

“That’s good to hear. How was your day?”

“It was good. I fixed some things in the upstairs bathroom and started with the chaulking.”

Yoongi is still renovating his house. It is a very big project and he isn’t stressing himself, so it’s been taking some time already. You don’t mind. It just means that he will have to stay over more often whenever the building site is too dirty. Quite frankly, a part of you secretly wishes for the renovations to take forever just so he will keep coming over to sleep in your bed. You really love having him sleep in your bed. Not only because he is a total cuddlebug (don’t spread these news to anyone, he is very shy about it) or because he always smells so good, but also because you feel safer with him close. 

“Chaulking? Wow, this sounds like process”, you say.

“Yeah, it’s been going really well lately.” He turns for a moment. “And you? Did you have a good day?”

“I had a really good day. I made some progress on the scarf and then did some yoga. Tangerine?” 

Yoongi closes the distance, snacking on the slice you’re offering.

“This sounds like a good day. You have to be finished soon, don’t you?”

“Yeah, it's almost finished, which is very exciting if you asked me.”

You are currently knitting a scarf and have been regularly sending updates to Yoongi via text messages. His reactions to the messages vary from “good job!” all the way to the very rare and precious thumbs up emoji. He is honestly such a cutie.

“I can imagine. Do you have a new project in mind after you finish the scarf?” Yoongi takes one more slice of tangerine before he returns to the stove. 

While you begin telling him about all the knitting project ideas you have. You don’t leave out any details. The material of the yarn, the design, the colours, even what kind of stitches you plan on using. And Yoongi listens gladly, he asks questions and reacts with his very endearing version of enthusiasm. It means so much to you. Being loved by him is so fulfilling. You feel so important, as if your existence has purpose. There is not one thing about you which isn’t important to him or which you feel like you have to hide from him.

It might sound strange, but being loved by him is so freeing. You feel so whole and so happy and you love him so much in return. 

Yoongi steals one more slice of tangerine, staying close to you afterwards as he slices some mushrooms for the risotto.

“And what about you? Any new music projects you are working on?” you ask him, switching your adoring gaze between his face and his hands. He has such sexy hands.

“Yes, so many”, he says, nodding his head.

“Tell me everything.”

You listen to everything he has to tell you, gazing at him with the biggest heart eyes. He is so interesting and exciting. His hobbies are so wonderful to listen to. As much as you love talking to him, you love listening just as much.

Yoongi feels content with you. He feels utterly and completely happy. There is nothing missing with you. When he is with you, he feels whole and like himself. There is not even the littlest thing about him he feels like he has to hide from you and whenever he comes out of one of his accidental monologues about his interests, he isn’t met with boredom but enthusiasm and questions. Truly, his nerdy little heart swells thrice its size when he is with you. 

A moment of silence follows after you and he exchanged interests. Happy and jazzy Christmas music fills it. Yoongi picks up the cutting board, carrying it to the pan so he can sauté the mushrooms in some butter. He adds the rice afterwards, seasoning it before he pours white wine into the pan. He pours some of the wine in his glass afterwards, closing the distance to clink glasses with you. 

“To this evening”, he says, smiling one of his pretty, soft smiles he always does.

“To this evening and to you, the best boyfriend ever.” 

“Be quiet”, he mumbles and drinks from his glass, looking to the side shyly. He blushes.

“Never. You need to know”, you say and lean in to munch on his cheek. 

“Hey. No biting”, he laughs as he complains, moving back. 

“Mhm, then how about I kiss the cook instead?” you say, setting the wine aside to pull him closer.

He lets you tug him between your legs, smiling at you and setting the wine aside. His eyes fall to your lips, his hands dance along a path which consists of your waist, hips and the side of your thighs.

“You’ve got a minute before I have to get back to the risotto”, he says.

“Then let me make the best of it”, you say, pulling him into a kiss. 

How you make the best of this one minute. You kiss him as if you missed him for a million years, as if you needed him for survival, as if his lips are all you ever wished for. It might only be a minute, but Yoongi comes out of this kiss with slightly wobbly knees and a racing heart. His cheeks are flushed, his lower lip tingles as you end the kiss by biting on it gently. 

“What was that for?” his voice is raspy, his eyes foggy as they gaze at your lips.

“Just felt like it”, you whisper, playing with his soft hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Should we like, I don’t know, should I remove the pan from the stove for a moment?” 

You laugh, scrunching your nose. You know what he is insinuating, stomach tingling at the aspect of it.

“And why should you do that?” you tease him, tinting his cheeks an even deeper pink. He curses under his breath, giving your hips a gentle squeeze.

“You drive me crazy, you know. First kissing me like this and then acting innocent.”

“Shouldn’t you check on the rice?”

Yoongi lets out a whine of discontent, but breaks away from you to stir the rice. He glances at you. You retort the glances, heart racing like crazy. His hair is a little messy because you played with it as you kissed him. His lips are slightly puffy and flushed pink. Quite frankly, he has never looked more attractive than he does right now in your little kitchen wearing the black apron you made for him as he cooks you dinner and seems just a little ruffled from your kiss. 

You lift the glass of wine to your equally as puffy lips, giving him an eye smile as you sip the sweet alcohol. Yoongi blushes, shifting his gaze to dinner. He rolls his lower lip between his teeth mindlessly while his hands are busy with pouring chicken stock over the rice. 

You and he both feel the electric sparkles in the air. The feeling is addicting, just as it is addicting to spend time with each other. You just work so well together, you are so right. 

“You know”, you begin.

“Yes, baby?” he answers you, voice warm and caring.

“I love having you over.” 

He glances again. His eyes sparkle, his teeth show in the shiest of smiles.

“I can look at you, I get to listen to you and talk to you. I love it.”

“Yeah, I love it too.”

“And I get to kiss you. It’s pretty awesome.”

He looks at your lips, raising your pulse with it.

“You know. I, theoretically, have one minute again”, he says, giving you puppy eyes.

You laugh because you love when he flirts. You set the wine aside, making grabby hands at him.

“Then come here and make it count.”

Yoongi sets the spoon aside, closing the distance. How he is going to make it count.

[sillyhanako]

✦　　﹐　　I just wanna get high with my lover..　　⌒⌒

﹒꒦꒷ WINDBREAKER BOYS cuddling scenarios ♡♡ ft. togame jo, sakura haruka, suo hayato and kaji ren.

୧﹒sfw // wc : 272 - 400 each

꒱﹒a/n﹒୨୧ sorry for being inactive chat im cooking up way too many drafts and the ideas are flooding my brain 🎀 twst is peak

ー﹕m.list﹐

﹫﹒TOGAME JO

It was one of those cozy nights where the world felt like it was wrapped in a soft, warm blanket. The moonlight peeked through the curtains, casting gentle shadows across the room, as you and Togame found your perfect snuggling position on the couch. The warmth of one another's bodies created a bubble of serene comfort, and the only sounds that filled the space were the peaceful inhalations and exhalations as you both drifted into a blissful half-sleep.

You, nestled comfortably into Togame’s side, sighed contentedly, feeling like you could stay in this moment forever. However, as you succumbed to the gentle pull of sleep, a familiar tingling sensation crept through your arm. It was a well-known sign that your beloved cuddle partner was squishing your arm just a bit too tightly. With a playful huff, you cracked open an eye, gazing up at Togame.

“Hey my sweet angel princess” you teased, suppressing a giggle. “Could you move a little? My arm is falling asleep.”

slowly unfurled from the comfortable bundle you both had created. “c'moooon” he replied with a grunt, “But I was so comfortableee can’t you just power through it?”

“Power through?” you laughed, your voice light and teasing. “What do you think I am, some sort of arm contortionist?” 

With a jolt, he shifted, still pouting, but instantly feeling the warmth of your arm invigorate again. “Alright, alright i’ll grant your wish,” he said, lifting his arm.

Sitting up slightly, you two shared a moment, your faces just inches apart, the teasing still lingering in the air. “But only if you promise to return to this cozy position in just a moment,” he added with his signature mischievous grin. Oh if only he knew how handsome he looked right now.

“whateverrr" you mumbled back, settling in again as you found your way back into that cozy bubble. In the quiet of the night, you snuggled again, warm and content, drifting off into a peaceful slumber.

﹫﹒SAKURA HARUKA

Cuddling with sakura who's as stiff as a board can feel like snuggling a popsicle—chilly and a bit rigid. It’s kind of like trying to get a cat out from under the bed; you need to be gentle, patient, and maybe a little playful.

you came back to your shared apartment from a long day at school and needed to recharge, what better way than cuddling your cute boyfriend?

So now you're all cozied up on the couch, and he’s sitting there, arms awkwardly at his sides. You could swear he’s a statue, frozen in time, unsure whether to embrace or retreat. His heart might be racing—after all, cuddling isn’t exactly in the job description of a guy who’s never been in a relationship.

So how do you break the ice? Start with a playful nudge or a light tease. Gradually, you can inch closer, laying your head on his shoulder as if it's no big deal, inviting him into the cozy cuddle puddle you’ve created.

As his rigidity slowly melts, you can feel his heartbeat sync with yours. It’s like discovering the secret to a puzzle that everyone thought was impossible. You catch him stealing glances at you, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. Those moments give life to the cuddles, turning the chilly embrace into something warm and comforting.

If he still seems a bit hesitant, don’t worry! It’s all part of the fun. Compliment him or tell him how good he's being doing lately and how enough he really is. You might just find that his flustered face is the softest pillow to rest on. With each tease and awkward shuffle of limbs, he might just start to feel safe enough to let go of that stiff facade.

In this playful dance between fluff and awkwardness, he'll discover that cuddling isn’t only about physical closeness. It’s about creating an atmosphere where he feels free to express the whirlpool of feelings he’s been keeping bottled up. And hey, sometimes, when you least expect it, he might just surprise you with an unexpected cuddle back, and in that moment, you’ll know you’ve unlocked a piece of his heart.

﹫﹒SUO HAYATO

Cuddling on a lazy Sunday morning is one of those simple, sweet pleasures of life. The warmth of your handsome boyfriend wrapping his arms around you feels like being enveloped in your favorite blanket—cozy and secure. As the morning sunlight streams through the window, the world outside fades away, and it’s just the two of you, lost in your own little space.

Every touch feels like a tiny spark of magic, igniting sweet little giggles as you playfully nudge against each other. His calm demeanor means that you don’t have to hustle or worry about maximizing every moment; you can simply be. There’s a tranquility in those still moments that grants you permission to drift into laughter about the silly things you two did last week or to share fond memories that make your heart flutter.

Amidst the sweet serenity, a sudden, unexpected sound breaks the tranquility. You, snuggled comfortably against hayato, can’t help but let out a little fart. It happens!! We’re all human, right?

“Did you just fart?” he asks, a teasing glint in his eye, mixed with amusement and a hint of disbelief.

“Yes,” you admit sheepishly , a blush creeping across your cheeks.

“It’s okay,” suo responds with that signature calmness that makes everything feel better. “release your demons babe.”

With a mix of laughter and mock desperation, you lets out an exaggerated groan, “aaaauuurghh..”

The room bursts into laughter, and suddenly, the atmosphere is lighter.

amid gentle laughter and soft whispers, the world outside ceases to exist. You embrace the imperfections, the giggles, and, yes, even the farts, as the true essence of your relationship shines through.

﹫﹒KAJI REN

The soft glow of fairy lights dances in the corners of the room as the scent of popcorn fills the air — the perfect scene for a movie night. You settle into the couch, and your boyfriend, kaji, saunters in with his classic laid-back vibe.

he doesn’t fuss or fret about plans or expectations. Instead, he just kind of... floats in and out of moments, like a gentle breeze.

As you cuddle, a delightful mix of warmth and quiet envelops you. His breathing is steady and calm, creating a soothing backdrop to your little pocket of the world. While he might not shout his feelings from the rooftops or engage in wild conversations, there’s a comforting strength in his silence. He’s the type of guy who listens more than he talks, which sometimes leaves you wondering what’s going on in that brilliantly quiet mind of his.

But every now and then, a subtle chuckle escapes him — when you least expect it. — you find yourself savoring those moments.

But today your stomach had a different idea.

You, with a playful pout, broke the comfortable silence, “I’m hungry." You shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable while you stomach let out a small grumble, as if joining the conversation.

Kaji, blissfully snug and unwilling to leave the warmth of the blanket, replied with a monotone voice, “no way am i moving,” one was craving food, while the other was perfectly content to remain cocooned in his warm sanctuary. plus he was reallly into the movie.

You both knew that the only solution to your hunger would involve a quest to the kitchen, but the task seemed monumentally heroic when faced with the allure of the warmth of the cuddles and the movie. With a mock sigh, youleaned closer, whispering dramatically, “But what if I starve?”

after an exaggerated pause, he replied, “find a way but im not moving, 'm way too lazy."

cuddling with kaji is like a delightful balance. Sure, youre often the one chattering away about everything from your day to the latest trending topics. Yet, there’s something grounding about having a partner who doesn’t feel the need to fill every silence with words. It���s as if you've developed your own language — a subtle squeeze of the hand here, a soft smile there.

there’s a sweetness in the simplicity of being wrapped up together, lost in your thoughts but connected in the profound hush of your recharge sesh.

© 2025 sillyhanako ━ do not copy, steal, or reupload my works. Thanks!

[aleskie]

FALLING FOR YOU (ft. Charles Leclerc)

SUMMARY: You and Charles go ice skating. He doesn't know how to ice skate. Shenanigans ensues.

The Xmas Album Masterlist

Warnings: none! it's like 98% fluff but it gets a lil suggestive like right at the veryy end

You gaze out the window, watching snow-draped trees blur past, the serene white landscape contrasting with the warmth of his hand giving yours a gentle squeeze now and then. Charles liked whisking you away on little trips throughout the year, but he especially loved doing so during the holidays, when the off-season finally let him slow down and bask in your company.

While the season was in full swing, he’d take you to sun-soaked beaches and coastal getaways in the middle of packed race weekends. But come winter, his heart belonged to the snowy mountains, where the two of you could retreat to a cozy little cabin, far from the world.

“It’ll be a couples’ trip before the madness starts,” he’d explained when he first floated the idea of sneaking away as the season ended. With the chaos of family dinners, festive parties, and endless reunions on the horizon, this getaway felt like a perfect little pocket of peace—just for the two of you.

The first few days were spent entirely wrapped up in each other—fingers intertwined, skin pressed against skin, lips meeting in unhurried kisses. New marks bloomed on necks and collarbones and hips, small traces of intimacy shared beneath the warmth of the covers as the cold world outside faded into nothingness. It was a blissful blanket, the kind you could only share when his mind wasn’t preoccupied with racing or how the team was doing. Time seemed to stretch in those quiet moments, letting you focus on nothing but each other.

Today, though, Charles had insisted—albeit with his signature charm—that you get out of bed for a surprise adventure. “Trust me,” he’d said with a mischievous grin as he helped you bundle up for the cold. 

When the car finally pulls to a stop, he’s quick to hop out and open your door, excitement practically radiating off him. Before you can take in your surroundings, he’s already covering your eyes with his hands, laughing softly as he guides you forward.

The crisp winter air nips at your cheeks, growing sharper as you near the mystery destination. The muffled crunch of boots on snow accompanies the sound of children’s laughter, mingled with the cheerful hum of life bustling around you.

When Charles finally uncovers your eyes, your breath catches. 

A frozen lake stretches out before you, its smooth surface glinting in the soft afternoon light. Families and couples glide across it, their skates carving graceful lines into the ice. Nearby, a small booth rents skates and a scattering of string lights twinkles faintly against the snowy backdrop. The scene feels like it’s been plucked straight from a holiday movie—a sea of white stretching endlessly, snowflakes drifting lazily through the air, and the joyful energy of the people around you.

“Ta-da!” Charles says, his voice brimming with pride as he grins down at you, “What do you think?”

He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, leading you closer to the lake. The chill deepens as you step further onto the snowy bank, but the magic of the scene keeps it at bay. Your heart feels impossibly full as you take it all in.

“Oh, Charlie,” you whisper, your voice soft and awestruck, “It’s perfect.”

“Well, come on then,” Charles says, his voice brimming with enthusiasm as he leads you toward the skate rentals. “Let’s skate!”

You can’t help but smile, the grin stretching wide across your face as he eagerly handles everything—selecting skates for both of you and chatting animatedly with the attendant. The smile doesn’t fade even as you both sit on a nearby bench, lacing up your skates. You lean against each other for balance, your laughter mingling with the soft hum of activity around you. The cold bites at your fingers as you tug on the laces, but his easy warmth keeps the moment light.

Once ready, the two of you waddle toward the lake’s edge, unsteady on the frozen ground but too excited to care. As you’re about to step onto the ice, Charles suddenly catches your wrist, halting your progress. His expression is mischievous, the corners of his mouth curling up in that playful way you’ve come to adore.

“You’ve skated before, right?” he asks, tilting his head as though this question is long overdue.

You shrug, a teasing glint in your eyes. “I mean, yeah, but I’m not amazing at it.”

He narrows his eyes, studying you for a moment. “But you can balance?”

Instead of answering immediately, you step onto the ice and give a small glide, the motion smooth but cautious. “Yeah,” you reply over your shoulder, confidence lacing your tone.

“Good.” His grin widens as he steps gingerly onto the ice beside you, legs wobbling and torso swaying from side to side before placing his hands firmly on your shoulders. "Because I can't."

“Ah!” you exclaim, stumbling slightly as Charles leans his full weight against you. Your skates wobble precariously on the ice, but you manage to catch yourself, your hands instinctively gripping his arms for stability.

“Charlie,” you laugh breathlessly, your voice tinged with both amusement and panic, “One of us has to let go, or we’re both gonna fall!”

“I don’t know, mon ange, I’ve already fallen quite badly for you,” he quips, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. His legs may have been fighting for balance, wobbling dangerously, but his charm remained completely unshaken.

You chuckle, shaking your head as you try to steady yourself. “I’m serious, babe. I’m barely hanging on here!”

Instead of letting go, Charles takes an awkward, jerky step forward, his upper body practically collapsing against yours.

“If we don’t move, we can stay standing,” he says with the confidence of someone who’s utterly failing at proving his point. His arms wrap tightly around you, a precarious attempt at keeping both of you upright.

You roll your eyes playfully, threading a hand through his tousled hair. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Leaning in, you press a soft kiss to his cheek before gently unraveling yourself from his hold, taking one of his hands in yours. His grip tightens, but there’s trust in his gaze as he looks at you.

“Do you trust me?” you ask, your tone light but reassuring.

“Always,” he replies without hesitation.

“Good.” A smile spreads across your face as you glide backward, the motion so gentle it’s barely more than a whisper of movement. “Let’s take this slow, Mr. I-Drive-Fast-Cars-For-A-Living. This might actually be harder for you than your usual laps.”

His laughter rings out, rich and warm despite his shaky stance. “What do you mean might? It already is.”

The two of you glide slowly across the edge of the ice, your hands firmly clasped together. His feet shuffle awkwardly, and his brows are knit in deep concentration as he wobbles with every step. You can’t help but stifle a laugh whenever he flails wildly to keep his balance. Of course, with his hands still gripping yours, his clumsy movements throw you off balance too—but you find it too funny to care.

“You’re doing wonderful, love,” you say, your smile stretching wide.

“It’s not too bad,” he replies, his steps still clunky but growing bolder, “I think I’m getting the hang of it now.”

“Don’t get cocky,” you warn teasingly, keeping the pace slow and steady as you gently pull him along.

But Charles, ever the adrenaline junkie, has no intention of playing it safe. “Oh, come on, mon ange,” he says, his grin turning mischievous, “This is a racetrack now.”

Before you can protest, he loosens his grip on your hand and pushes off against the ice with exaggerated effort, sending you gliding slightly ahead of him. Determined, he attempts to pick up speed, his legs awkwardly working against the slick surface.

“Charlie, be careful!” you exclaim, glancing back at him with growing concern. He’s teetering dangerously from side to side, his arms flailing in a desperate bid to stay upright.

“I’ve got this!” he calls out, his voice filled with far more hope than certainty, “It’s nothing too crazy!”

But fate—and the ice—have other plans. In a split second, his skate catches awkwardly, and he stumbles forward, completely losing control.

“Charles!” you squeal, trying to sidestep as he inches toward you like an unstoppable force. But it’s too late. With an almost comical lack of grace, his full weight barrels into you, and the two of you crash onto the ice in a tangled heap.

“Oh, dear, are you alright?” Charles asks when you're both fallen over, his voice laced with concern as he cups your cheeks, tilting your head gently to check for any injuries.

“I’m fine,” you reply between bursts of laughter, your breath fogging the cold air, “I can’t believe you wiped us both out!”

He groans, his face just inches from yours, his expression a mix of sheepishness and suppressed laughter. “It was a very calculated risk, you know.”

“Really?” you ask, raising an incredulous brow, “And what exactly did your calculations say?”

“That you’d make a wonderful crash pad,” he replies, his smirk breaking free, his tone dripping with playful mischief.

“Unbelievable,” you mutter, still chuckling as you lean into him, resting your forehead against his shoulder. The two of you sit there for a moment, sprawled near the edge of the lake, just shy of solid land, the world around you bustling with joyful sounds of skaters and falling snow.

“Alright,” you finally say, brushing snow off your jacket as you prepare to get up. “Let’s try this again, yeah?”

He nods excitedly.

You rise carefully, holding out a hand to Charles. He grabs it, his grip firm as he starts to pull himself up. But before he can fully stand, his skates betray him, and with a comical yelp, he slips again, landing back on the ice with a soft thud.

“Have I ever told you how much I love watching you learn new things?” you tease, your laughter bubbling over. “You’re so cute.”

“Well,” he smirks, brushing snow off his jacket, “You think I’m cute, so I win.”

As you reach for him again, a young voice pipes up beside you. 

“Hi, sir!”

You both glance over to see a little boy skating confidently toward you, his skates cutting small arcs on the ice. His cheeks are pink from the cold, and a toothy grin spreads across his face.

“Since you’re struggling, you can always grab onto a Penguin Helper! They’re over there, and they help you skate and balance!” He points toward a line of small, penguin-shaped skating aids near the rental booth.

Charles blinks, momentarily stunned, before letting out a hearty laugh that echoes across the ice. “Ah, a Penguin Helper? Now that sounds like a genius idea.”

“Yeah!” the boy replies, nodding enthusiastically, “I used one when I was learning, and now I’m super good!” He punctuates his words with a quick, confident spin that leaves Charles gaping in exaggerated awe.

“You’re certainly very good,” Charles says, glancing at you with a grin, “How can I argue with a pro? I suppose a penguin might be my only hope.”

You giggle, watching as the boy skates off with the effortless confidence of someone far more practiced than Charles. 

“Come on, Charlie,” you tease, offering him your hand again. “Let’s get you your new best friend.”

“Only if you promise not to abandon me for a faster skater,” he quips, taking your hand as you help him up once more.

“I promise you’re the only one I want—bad skating and all,” you say with a warm smile. 

Hand in hand, you shuffle back toward the rental booth to grab him a penguin. Despite the slightly bruised ego, his laughter—and charm—remain completely intact.

“Ah, yes,” he says dramatically, gripping the handles of the cheerful plastic penguin, “My noble steed has arrived.”

“A fitting ride for the honorable Lord Perceval,” you tease, laughing as you quickly pull out your phone to snap a few photos. Watching him slowly glide across the ice, his newfound confidence was as endearing as it was amusing. “You look like a natural.”

“Do I?” he asks, flashing you a playful smile. “In that case, shall we race? I’m sure my trusty companion here will give me the edge I need.” He pats the penguin affectionately.

You skate beside him effortlessly, your movements smooth compared to his exaggerated shuffle. “I’d still like to have my boyfriend in one piece by the end of this, thank you very much.”

“Oh, but your boyfriend’s pride is already shattered,” he responds, tilting his head toward you with exaggerated seriousness, “What are you going to do about that?”

You smirk, leaning just close enough to him to make him wonder what you’re thinking. “Well,” you begin, your voice dripping with playful intrigue, “He’ll have to wait until we’re back at the cabin to find out, won’t he?”

His eyes narrow, and a mischievous grin spreads across his face, the twinkle in his eyes growing sharper. “Oh? Will there be a special gift waiting for me there?” His tone drops an octave, the teasing lilt turning into something more revealing. “Perhaps something that involves...less layers?"

You gasp in mock offense, placing a hand dramatically over your chest as if you’ve been scandalized. “I don’t know what’s in that mind of yours,” you say, fighting back a smile, “But I was just planning on having us take a nice, relaxing nap.”

He quirks an eyebrow, stepping closer with a playful glint in his eye. “But what if I asked for this gift nicely?”

You raise a brow, intrigued, yet still holding onto the upper hand. “Ask nicely…how?”

His smile widens as he leans in, lowering his voice in that teasing tone you know so well. “I’ll make you hot chocolate. Just the way you like it. Thick. More chocolate than milk. Extra marshmallows. No skimping.”

Your eyes widen for a moment before you let out a chuckle, shaking your head, your heart softening at his effort to win you over. “Alright, alright. You’ve convinced me.” You smile sweetly, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I guess you can have your special gift after all.”

He grins, his posture slightly off-balance as he leans in—still holding onto that plastic penguin like it’s his lifeline—and plants a soft, warm kiss on your forehead. “You know just how to make a man’s bruised ego feel better,” he chuckles, his voice full of warmth.

“I know, right?” you smile, the promise of warmth, both literal and figurative, and more playful moments together at the cabin feels like the perfect ending to the day.

[lilakennedy]

𝐎𝐥𝐝 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐑𝐨𝐚𝐝 III

Both times you encountered Galloper Thompson in the past, he found you in less than ideal situations. This time, you're determined to seek him out...Third time's the charm, after all.

so, uh.....hi. i know it's been, what? two years? but i always said this story is NOT over yet, and i am a woman of my word. so here it is!! part three and also the longest part so far!! thank you all who have been encouraging me to continue and have waited so, so patiently!! i could go on and on about why this took so long, but that's a long story. thank you all for reading, your support and feedback means the world!! ♥ happy spooky season! tagging: @foggy-milk @wildwoods-sworn @rora-dolphinheart @dromaeo-sauridae @justagirlexistinginthisworld @everythingelsewastaken135 (^ i took this list of people that have expressed wanting to be tagged in the past, please forgive me if that has changed!) gender neutral MC! once again, nothing romantic (for now) but if anyone’s crushing on the man, i hope you have fun!! :> words: 11.8k cw: death mention, injury mention, a healing injury (MCs broken arm!) some eerie visuals - but nothing major or descriptive! english is not my first language, so some of the horse-related terminology might be off! i apologize!!  ➝  pt. I   ➝ pt. II   

“Woah, No no no - !”

Your plea falls on deaf ears as the universe merely humours you for a second, before allowing the bag of flour to tumble and fall down the side of the counter. 

The fall itself causes flour to fly out of the little paper bag and leave a trail on the cupboards doors. Until finally, it lands with a dull thud, the flour exploding into a cloud of white on impact with the tiles.

White coats your legs, feet, the poor cupboard doors and the floor where you stand, leaving you frozen for a second while you stare down at the mess you accidentally created. A huff escapes you, but before you can even reach over to salvage the last bits of flour that still remain inside the bag, the kitchen door opens. 

“Oh dear, what happened?” 

Mrs. Holdsworth’s voice holds a playful tone to her care, seemingly getting a small laugh out of your harmless predicament. You, on the other hand, stand embarrassed and covered in flour - You had come here to offer a helping hand, not cause a mess and waste an entire bag of ingredients. 

It is a pitiful image to walk in on, seeing you stand half covered in flour, an expression of a kicked dog and the stiffest posture you could force your body into. 

With a sigh, you relax your muscles and bend down to pick up the paper bag with a sigh: “I didn’t notice how close it was to my…My arm...” 

Mrs. Holdsworth simply gives a small chuckle from the centre of her chest, clearly not bothered by the little mishap as she steps closer to help you. With her hands, she starts to gather the spilled flour from the countertop and moves to discard it into the same trashcan you had tossed the now empty bag into. 

“Will you be a doll and fetch the broom? I’ll take care of the dough in the meantime.” 

Familiar enough with the house to not need any further directions, you simply nod and make your way over to the skinny broom closet just outside the kitchen - You move carefully, not wanting to spread more flour across the entire house.

It’s midday, allowing the sun to shine in through the windows of the house, nearly deceptively hiding the true chill that awaits anyone who steps outside. The winds recently have been harsh, some trees already unable to withstand the stormy nights, but luckily the damage has been minimal. 

Rainstorms, foggy mornings and howling winds invite anyone to stay inside, to bundle up and get cozy in a safe, warm environment. Mrs. Holdsworth’s home is always special, a comforting yet magical space to forget the passing of time. Furniture and decor invite relaxation, little personal trinkets open conversation and questions about different things in life. 

Your eyes wander over the surrounding space with a content expression, before you carefully close the closet door and make your way back to the kitchen. 

The kitchen is lively, despite only you and Mrs. Holdsworth working here today. The table has baskets and bags of ingredients that are already half used up, bowls of prepared fruit and chopped ingredients, a scale stands out of its usual hidden spot on the shelves and the oven is preheating and giving a warm glow.

Mrs. Holdsworth had invited you to help her prepare a type of sweet autumn bread, and you eagerly agreed. 

Your hands wrap around the broomstick without much hassle, given that the injury inside your left hand has healed entirely at this point - The incident having happened a week prior. It feels odd to think about the time that has passed since. It both feels like it happened last night and last month.

Yet, a glance at the calendar on Mrs. Holdsworth wall confirms the passage of time. The date reads a week and two days after your unfortunate, stormy trip to Golden Hills. 

The cut your palm had sustained was nothing major, but it took a while longer to heal than you had anticipated. An injury on the inside of your palm, which you use daily, really is a doozy to heal without constantly irritating it. 

Your right arm is still wrapped in its cast, the white material slightly grey and showing clear signs of wear. The fracture will take a while longer to heal, leaving you with this cast for at least 3 more weeks. By this point, you are used to the lack of mobility and the extra care you have to take. 

Plus, having an unwieldy cast allows for easy excuses when you do mess up while zoning out, like today. The biggest downside has just been the unrelenting occasional itch beneath the plaster.

“You seem distant recently dear, what’s been occupying your mind to take you so far away all day?”

You look up at Mrs. Holdsworth, watching her dry her hands on a checkered towel by the sink. Raising your brows at her words, you turn your attention back to the floor and your broom. 

“Nothing, really.” You respond nonchalantly, the movements of the broom turning more sluggish and weak as you think of what to say. “I guess I’ve just been zoning a lot.”

You crack a smile and shrug at the older woman, not wanting her to think that anything was seriously wrong. Your smiling expression is met with an unimpressed look that holds more motherly energy than you would have liked. She’s reading you.

Her brows raise and a telling smile stretches across her face, wrinkles accenting the sides of her smile. 

“You should know by now that lying to me does not work.” Her voice holds a lighthearted scolding to it, making you cock your head to the side and rest your healthy arm against the broom, waiting for her to continue. 

She turns back toward the counter and begins closing up some jars of ingredients. Her words are underlined by occasional glances over her shoulder toward where you stand.

“First I hear from Conrad that you nearly lost a finger while helping him due to daydreaming last week, then you mix up dates that people agreed upon for training with you and you’re constantly running late, you completely missed some things I said earlier and now you take it out on my poor, poor flour.”

The smile in her voice is audible, and you can see the corners of her eyes crease with her grin whenever she glances back at you. 

“Half of those are because of my ar -”

“Hush, do not blame it all on your broken wrist!” Mrs. Holdsworth cuts you off, ”I have seen your face and your eyes, you’re daydreaming yourself away to something else!”

She turns to face you fully, her expression a fond annoyance toward your attempts to lie. Her arm reaches over to take the broom from you, causing you to furrow your brows in confusion. 

But as you look down, you notice the flour is entirely gone; Both on the floor and on your clothes. 

It takes a second for the thought to settle in: ‘Magic, right.’

Magic on Jorvik is more common than you ever would have assumed, and you have gotten used to it over the time you have spent here - But recently Magic seems to be more at the forefront of your mind than ever before, and not for reasons any of the people around you would like. 

The brooch and strip of fabric still are in your possession. In the week that has passed since you got those peculiar items, you haven’t told a soul. Partly because you want to keep it a secret for your own safety, and partly because you don’t even know what to do going forward. 

Your initial plan was to return it back to the man that had given it to you, seeing as it was mostly borrowed, rather than gifted. But with the weather changing from unpleasant to downright dangerous, you haven’t had a chance to venture out on another trip all the way into the hills.

And with this week that passed, you had time to think - And it drove you to overthink, now leaving you with a unique type of choice paralysis.

What if the items are cursed or will bring harm to you or your loved ones? Maybe you should go stand by the shores of Moorland and toss the brooch as far as your arm allows, watching it go beneath the waves and never turn back. 

But - What if you were to keep it? A souvenir of something that will probably never repeat in your lifetime, something to memorise these odd events. Something other than an X-Ray of a broken arm, that is. This train of thought always leads you to huff at your extremely sentimental take on it all, but part of you is stubborn and wants to keep this adventure close. 

And the plan of returning it to him? You aren’t even quite sure how to start this plan.  Both times you met with the headless horseman, it was because he found you. It’s likely that he can’t be found unless he chooses to be.

So with that issue, you aren’t quite sure where to begin - The idea of camping out in the hills entered your mind a few times, but Aideen knows you would get hurt again.

“Ow!!” A yelp escapes you while your hand flies up to the source of the pain by your ear. Mrs. Holdsworth had pinched you, seeing you spiral back into your own mind despite the ongoing conversation. 

You look over to her, seeing her expression holding no real harsh emotion, but instead something akin to a teasing smile of disbelief. 

Rubbing your poor ear, you pout for a moment when  she begins to talk. 

“I know that look, that’s the look of a young soul falling into fascination with something magical. I have seen that look on many people on this island, I have seen it on myself when I was still young and beginning to unravel the island’s secrets!”

She shakes her head slightly, the smile never leaving her features as you shift your weight slightly. Her eyes hold a sincerity that was not there during her earlier teasing jokes. It makes you relax as you listen to her words, cherishing the time she spends with you.

“You’re falling in love with something magical, and for your sake, I hope it is safe.”

A moment of comfortable, important silence rests between the two of you. With a smile on your face, you give a little nod, reassuring her that you are indeed safe. Mrs. Holdsworth returns the nod with the crows feet by her eyes deepening as her smile stretches just a bit wider. 

Deep down, you wonder if what you are doing truly is keeping you safe or spelling out something terrible for your future. But for now, you’ll nod.

Abruptly, she steps back and throws her hands up, speaking while turning back toward the oven. 

“Or maybe you’re just a lovesick fool that’s busy daydreaming and little old me is looking too deep into things!”

Nearly offended and embarrassed at her backtracking, you gasp out a ‘Hey!’ which causes the old witch to give a hearty laugh.

It is roughly 2 hours later when you leave the small, cozy home with some freshly baked apple bread in your bag and a piece of it between your teeth. You make your way down the path in front of Mrs. Holdsworth's house, munching away on the still warm bread.

The biting cold is a harsh contrast to the warm place you had been staying at for the earlier hours of the day, the soft smell of home cooked foods has been replaced by the scent of yesterday's rain and the hay of the stables.

Winds whisper and howl through every fence and past the corners of each building, a particularly strong gust pushing you forward as if nature itself is urging you to hurry back into a warmer place.

You merely give a hum in return, acknowledging the wind's attempts but not moving to rush much faster, still chewing bites of warm bread while you let your eyes wander around. 

Moorland is empty, for the most part. The paths abandoned while people exercise caution against the unpredictable weather, not wanting to put themselves or their horses in danger. 

Right now the weather is unruly, but bearable - Still, the winds have a habit of turning fast, catching many people off guard in these past weeks. Every small gap in your clothes invites a chill down your spine once the cold slithers its way against your skin, led by the howls of wind.

An audible shiver leaves your lips as you try to huddle further into your clothing, the final bite of the baked goods disappearing between your teeth, allowing you to bury your hands into the pockets of your coat. The cast around your right arm makes the entire ordeal a bit stiff, but not impossible.

The warm pockets of your coat are welcomed around your hands, shielding them from the cool winds and inviting you to snuggle into the fabric even further, like a turtle retreating into its shell. 

It does not take long for another, different type of shiver to run through you as your hand brushes cold metal, resting inside your left pocket. The sensation causes your steps to falter for a second, your walking speed slowing down to something more uneven while you make your way down the path that will lead you to the side of the stables.

Your hand tightens around the golden brooch resting in the deep pocket of your coat, allowing your thumb to gently brush along the symbols engraved in it. A symbol you have memorised at this point, a result of staring at the little item and trying to make sense of your current situation.

The brooch and the little tied piece of green fabric have been on your person since the day you had received them. Something about the idea of leaving them laying around where someone could find or take them struck a cord inside you - So instead you decided to always keep it with you. 

It’s a plan you cannot think about for too long, because once the worry of it being cursed creeps back into your mind, the items weigh ten times heavier against your side. Yet, you like to tell yourself that you’re keeping it so you can dispose of it when the time is right, that you are only keeping it close to you so you can throw it aside somewhere no one will find it again. 

But the truth is, you just don’t want someone else to steal it. It has become something you wish to keep safe, as if you were asked to watch over it and now you cannot just haphazardly toss it to someone else. 

Plus, you still have to take caution with the people around you - For their safety, and yours. Aideen knows what would happen if you were to spill your new story to any random person. Most would probably see it as a silly ghost story, see it as made up to garner attention. 

You twirl the piece of fabric around your fingers like a ribbon. It gets caught on your knuckles occasionally, the brooch in your palm very much limiting the movement of your fingers. 

The path beneath your boots changes to cobblestone when you reach the Moorland stables, seeing a few people rushing back and forth to finish their tasks before the weather turns too aggressive. 

A few friendly nods to the people around you, hurried steps and the sounds of a few boxes getting knocked over by the wind are all that follows while you make your way to your stable doors. Familiar scents and sounds greet you as you step inside, readying for a few hours of work.

The hay in the wheelbarrow muffles your sound of frustration as you let yourself plop chest-first into the clean pile of it that you’ve been wheeling around. Immediately, strands of golden hay stick to your clothing and hair, but you pay it no mind, given that you are already covered in hay, dust and horse hairs from the tasks you had been crossing off of today’s list. 

Despite your sore muscles and the splinter you had somehow managed to get on one of the storage doors, neither are the reasons for you deflating like a balloon forgotten behind a child’s bedroom door. No, no. Your mind has been reeling with trying to figure out how to handle dealing with a maybe-cursed object. The constant mental back and forth has been taking a genuine toll on you, as the possible stakes of your current situation dawning on you more with each passing hour. It’s like something is hellbent on wearing you thin, stretching you until something inside your spine will snap with the most unpleasant and nauseating sound. 

The idea of keeping that damned brooch makes a little voice inside your screech with absolute, stubborn terror. What if it brings terrible things to your doorstep? What if you weren’t even meant to keep it for this long? Another thing that worries you is still the idea of someone else finding it. 

Carefully, you use your arms to push yourself upward slightly, your hips and waist bearing most of your weight against the hay while your chest lifts. It takes a second of rummaging, but you manage to pull the brooch out of your pocket. With an expression of frustration and confusion across your face, you look at it. 

You cock your head to the side while you let yourself drop back onto the hay, your arm extended forward to keep the brooch in your line of sight. 

For what feels like the millionth time, you run your thumb along the metal. Your eyes intently focus on it, glaring nearly, as if to try and intimidate an answer out of the poor brooch itself. The green fabric brushes along your skin a few times as you do so. 

While you remain deeply focused on the small antique accessory, your horse is slowly but surely getting more and more interested in the tasty hay you are laying on. Reaching its neck down and stretching to its best effort, your Equine companion easily begins to munch on the very hay you are laying on, seemingly uninterested in your 50th dramatic brainstorming session. 

Could anyone blame you? What took place by the gate to Golden Hills has been on an uninterrupted loop in your mind. You remember it all so, so clearly. It is as if your own mind will not allow you to forget it. 

The wooden beams and boards of the stables around you creak with the howling winds outside. A soundscape you had gotten used to years ago, yet it still invites to shiver and glance around oneself. Alongside this eerie groan and howl, you hear your horse chewing on the hay you had been planning to place into its stall for the past 10 minutes. 

You fumble with the brooch for a few more seconds, flipping it in your hand the same way it has been flipping your daily routine on its head. Swiftly, you pocket it once more. The added weight in your pocket no longer feels alien to you. 

During these harsh conditions and downright dangerous storms, travelling all the way up to Golden Hills alone would be impossible. If you were to go, you’ll surely have to at least pass the next three or four days. 

The noise that leaves your lips is one of reluctant acceptance.

With every sunset and sunrise, you nearly feel yourself beginning to count the hours. It is odd, really. This mix of excitement and dread that flows through your veins. It becomes especially prominent when you lay down to rest, be it to sleep or just to relax for a while. Your head begins to spin with the amount of thoughts whipping back and forth inside your skull, your stomach begins to tie into knots and despite these anxiety induced symptoms, there remains the giddiness of a child prior to christmas eve.

 Your thoughts range from mildly worried, over hesitant excitement all the way down to disturbing. Most recurring being the idea of someone finding your dead body between some bushes at the side of the valley, and because no one knows of your little adventures, it would take them weeks to find you. You try not to let this thought take up too much of your mental capacity. How do you do this? Well, with a somewhat comforting, yet equally eerie fact you can’t dodge; If Thompson had wanted you dead, he probably would have done so on your first meeting. 

Now here is to hoping you aren’t about to overstay your welcome with the headless phantom. 

It is nearly comical, how the first thing you do every morning is pull the blinds and curtains aside, craning your neck at weird angles to see as much of the sky as you possibly could. Every morning so far, you were greeted with harsh winds and rain hitting your window in a relentless rhythm. But not today. 

Today your eyes scan across a slightly overcast sky, the trees of Moorland swaying in the wind much more gently than they have in the recent week. The clouds are grey, yet not as heavy. A few wisps of white clouds dance in between, too - Some spots even allow you to catch a glimpse of the sunrise.  

Something gleams in your eyes for a second and your heart leaps into your throat. Today’s the day, you think to yourself. Your grasp on your curtain tightens for a second as you give a grin at the sky, trying your best to fight the nervousness crawling under your skin. 

Throughout the day, you do everything you can to prepare for your planned trip, hoping to be more prepared this time. Your plan consists of just setting up a small tent in the mountains and …Well,waiting.

Deep down you’re fully aware that Thompson would not just let you walk around and find him like just any other person. You had come to that conclusion a good while ago already. 

An alternative plan had been to just walk around and try to call out for him, waving the brooch around like you’re trying to lure a dog back with a treat. The mental image gave you a small chuckle at the time, but you realise it might not be the smartest idea. 

If you set up camp like planned, you could sit for hours and hope he might want that damned brooch back, leading him to decide to show up on his own accord. In your eyes, it feels like the safest and most respectful route. And you hope to Aideen that you are right. 

Your travel to Golden Hills is pleasant, your improvised camping set safely stored away in one of the bigger saddlebags you had laying around. The one person tent folds and rolls up small enough to fit, along with some snacks you had made, water and a thermos full of a nice, hot drink. You made sure to shove the thermos into the bag extra harshly, some personal grudge still lingering against the object. Tossed along with the small set is a pack of bandaids. A rolled up blanket is, somewhat haphazardly, fastened to the bag as well. The brooch remains in the pocket of your coat that you’ve thrown over multiple layers of clothes to keep warm. 

During your travels, your heart begins to race more and more as you get closer to the gate that will lead you into Goldenhills. The ride itself remains mostly comfortable, even if the occasional harsh wind has you squinting while trying to escape the flurry of leaves tossed at your face.  

And at some points, you swear, your horse is giving you very judgemental glances. As if it weren't its very own fault that you even encountered the man in the first place! You huff to yourself, feeling accomplished with your imagined little argument against your horse.

It takes a good while to reach Golden Hills, but then begins the search for a nice spot to set up camp. It cannot be anywhere that would pose too much of a risk should the weather turn too harsh, but also nowhere you’d be spotted by every single passerby. 

Your horse’s hooves carefully carry you along the still slightly muddy terrain, across all the winding paths through valleys and hills. The landscapes still leave you in awe as the crisp autumn afternoon air fills your lungs. You can’t help but enjoy the colourful surroundings, the endless patterns of gold, red and dark green leaves that make you feel as if you had accidentally stepped into a painting. 

It feels nearly serene, were it not for the rapid heartbeat in your chest as you find yourself wondering whether he is already aware of your presence.

An idea pops into your mind. The idea of just placing the brooch on a rock at the side of the pathways and leaving it be, to avoid another encounter. Despite your anxiety, this idea is quickly shoved aside, simply because your feeling of responsibility over the small item is still there. The idea of leaving it out here, where any man or animal could mar and break it…It doesn’t sit right with you. So you press onward, keeping your eyes out.

Satisfaction puts a smile on your face when you finally come across a spot that seems fitting for your little plans. Higher up in the mountainside of goldenhills, surrounded by a few old stone structures and kept mostly dry by the old, large trees stretching upwards as if to poke the clouds that loom.

Over the course of the next hour, you are hard at work. With some struggle and help from nearby rocks to use as stepladders, you fasten a high line for your horse between two sturdy trees. After making sure the rope was a comfortable length for your companion, you make sure to give them a few pats and a very much needed kiss on their big, old nose.  

Next, you begin to set up your tent with just a …Tiny bit of struggle. 

Its small size luckily makes it easier once you get a good idea of what goes where. You give a relieved sigh once you finally place the wool blanket in the bottom of the tent. You crawl over it on your knees to place it properly, and then promptly turn around to drop on your back. Your hands are folded on your stomach as you take a breather. Doing all of this with essentially one arm was tougher than it looked.

The front of the tent is wide open, the entire structure currently functioning as more of a roof than a closed tent. With your legs comfortably stretched outward as you sit up, you rest with your thermos in hand. The hot drink warms your hands as you hold it close to your face. The steam of it gently sways across your face while your eyes look out over the scenery of Goldenhills and Jorvik beyond it. In the distance, you hear animals scuttering and leaves rustling with the wind. Soon enough, the audible breeze that had combed through the trees further away has reached you now, leaving you with a chill down your arms. 

With a sip from the small metal cup in your hands, your entire body and soul begin to warm up more and more. You gently smile as you glance over to your horse, who has been utterly enthralled in eating all the grass in sight. Their tail gently sways, the relaxed posture also making you feel a bit more at ease. Maybe this entire trip would be more calm than you had expected.

Time passes, as evident by the slowly sinking sun and the clock on your phone racing through the afternoon hours. You don’t plan to camp the entire night or sleep out here. You told yourself that the latest you’ll stay is midnight, then you’d make your way back home.

With a quiet noise of struggle leaving your throat, you lean to the side, trying to reach your bag and open it with one hand. Once you manage to get a good hold of it and you’re sure it won't topple over and spill all the contents onto the ground, you reach into it. Your hand rummages for a short moment while your eyebrows furrow. Despite your short struggle you manage to pull out the small, battery powered LED lantern you packed.

The switch at the bottom is flipped and the little light comes to life, the warm white LED illuminating your improvies campsite in lieu of the sun that continues to sink lower.

You look over to where your horse stands by your right. They seem relaxed, idly looking around, ears curious and nose getting stuck into every leaf and shrubbery to inspect it. The sight makes you smile. 

As if to directly counter the gentle scene in front of you, you hear aggressive rustling. You snap your head into the direction of the sound, over to the old trees the sound seems to be coming from. Your shoulders are tense and in the corner of your eyes you can see the way your horse seems to be alert. But it all mellows back out once you realise it’s merely two birds having a short tussle up in the crowns of the trees, the flapping of wings and a few short annoyed screeches making the situation more clear. After a second, your horse also seems to be way less interested in the sounds. With a nervous, relieved little smile, you bring your hand to rest on your chest and try to get your heart rate to go back down to something more reasonable. You feel the way it’s hammering inside your ribcage, but it soon relaxes. Still, the singular harmless scare is enough to keep your anxiety at a heightened state. Your eyes flicker around your surroundings, seeing shapes and movement in the shadows that reveal themselves as leaves and their shadows once you actually look closer. Your brain is busy handing you various terrible, worst case scenarios and suddenly you feel very exposed where you sit. You scooch backward into your tent a bit.

Mrs. Holdsworth’s words come to your mind, how she had read you like a book not too long ago. How you had given her your word that you’re safe with whatever you are messing around with…

With a calming breath, you let your hand wrap around the silver thermos again, opting to take a few more sips of your warm drink to try and keep your anxiety down, trying to ignore the tension in your back. You glance over to your companion again and a dark thought comes to your mind. What if they get hurt because of your little risky adventures? An undeniable pang of worry and guilt shoots through your chest at the thoughts, your expression pulling into a frown. You carefully adjust your hold on the small metal cup and bring it to your lips.

You recall all the stories you have heard of encounters with the horseman, and in each of them one thing remains clear - None of the horses were ever hurt. The realisation brings a downright bizarre mixture of relief and horror. If things do indeed go south, at least your best friend would be fine. For a brief moment you start to wonder if others would take good care of them, but you decide to kill that train of thought quicker than your brain had decided to kill you off in that made-up scenario.

You’ll be fine. You’re sure of it. Your biggest enemy as of right now were two magpies in the trees above.

Bit by bit, the drink in your thermos dwindles down to a few drops, the wind becomes more chilly and the ground under you is becoming gradually more uncomfortable to sit on. You adjust your seated posture a bit, hoping to get more comfortable while you screw the thermos shut for the last time that night.

Without being able to hold a warm cup or sip on a steaming drink, the coldness of the evening makes itself known to your skin and bones. You haven’t checked the time in a while but it sure does feel like you have been here all night.

The brightness of your phone screen is turned all the way down, causing it to barely add light to the scenery when you do check the time - 9:55PM. A huff leaves you at that. You had been out here for quite a while. But you aren’t going to back down now! Or at least, you aren’t planning to…

It feels like another 5 hours have passed, but it has been roughly 30 minutes. Your eyes keep wandering around the dark and undisturbed scenery below the hills. You can see the light of a few ferries from up here and even the lighthouse sometimes peeks through the trees, so subtle you could miss it.

Then, you hear it - Hooves. Their sound is muffled by the leaves and soil, but their rhythm is unmistakable. You swear, every hair on your body is standing on end as soon as the sound registers, breaking into the soundscape of the night that you had grown so used to in the past hours. 

You lean forward instinctively, your heart-rate picking up once more. Could it be? Did you downright silly plan work? Did the waiting pay off?

Quickly, your eyes flicker across your surroundings, trying to spot the familiar glow, the familiar colours, the familiar and eerie sight. Trying to spot anything to confirm your expectations.

All you can do is hope the random rider did not see the utter disappointment that crosses your expression once they round the corner. 

Seated on a dapple grey horse, is a rider from the fishing village. You remember seeing them occasionally whenever you would travel all the way up to Goldenleaf. Their own expression is one of gentle surprise, clearly not having expected anyone up here. Nevertheless a small camp.

“Oh, hi there!” They speak up, a smile audible in their voice while their horse comes to a stop not too far from your little spot. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Relaxed and with a small smile of your own, you wave them off, letting them know that its genuinely no hassle or issue. Even while you are talking with the stranger, a small voice in the back of your mind is stomping its feet in disappointment. 

“Don’t worry, it’s quite alright! This isn’t the most common spot for people to sit, anyways.” You reply to their apology with a soft shrug, pointing out the bizarre choice of yours with some humour. The stranger gives an amused snort at that.

The person seems to be a bit younger than you, but not by much. A year or two, maybe. Their face is partially hidden by a big scarf, their attire clearly showing they had been out in the cold for a while. Your own brows furrow slightly when you see their slightly embarrassed expression turn into something more akin to…Concern.

“I heard that they sent out another storm warning for tonight. You, uh, might want to head down to the stables to avoid getting surprised by it, just in case.”

Their tone is genuine, their worry clear as they glance around and upward to the still cloudy skies, as if to try and predict the storm’s arrival. 

Hearing the news makes your shoulders slump. It makes sense, you think to yourself, you’ve been sitting up here all evening with barely working mobile data to connect you to the internet. A storm warning would easily have been missed by you. You internally wince at that oversight. You could have really put yourself and your horse in danger.

You give the stranger a hum of acknowledgement.

“Ah, thank you for telling me.” You begin to get up onto your feet, brushing some dried grass off of your pants as you do so. “I probably should head down, then.”

The conversation between you and the stranger continues for a minute. They offer to help you pack up your things, but you assure them you got it. The two of you discuss the recent, insane weather and the frequent thunderstorms. They share a few stories from Goldenleaf and troubles the stable had faced, and you discuss some events from Moorland in a matching tone of exhaustion at the constant weather precautions.

You can’t help but feel grateful at how kind this rider is, offering to wait until you’re done so neither of you had to ride back down alone. Yet a part of you is worried at how willing they are to help you out, making you hope they aren’t too open and kind to just any stranger out here. Despite this, the conversation remains light and you even laugh at a few things while you pack the last few things into your bag.

Unbeknownst to you, the fiery eyes of an all too familiar mare had been keeping you in direct line of sight, sharp and focused as her and her rider want to ensure your safe departure, even from a distance. The stranger at your side seems to pose no threat whatsoever, yet the mare does not move, does not turn away until you and your horse have made your way down the path toward the village… 

With all your things packed back into your bag and your horse being given a few treats for having been so patient with your recent escapades, you begin your ride down the hills.

Your newest companion, the stranger from Goldenleaf, is ahead of you and setting a relaxed pace down the winding paths. Around you the trees loom tall and imposing as if to remind you that they have been here long before you and will continue to remain here long after you.

Each dried leaf that breaks under your horse's hoof is audible, the forest silent besides the nocturnal animals that continue to move around for food and safety. All the colours you had seen earlier, the scenery akin to brushstrokes in an expensive painting, now are swallowed by the dark of night, everything falling into a dim, blue hue.

You give a soft sigh, upset with how quickly your plans for the evening were forced to change. With a torn expression, you glance back the way you came from and up at the skies. No matter how determined you are to see this through, it would be idiotic to put yourself and your horse in danger for it.

The thought itself feels ironic, labelling the storm as dangerous but not the deadly omen you are so keen on meeting again. Maybe this is your saving grace, maybe Aideen has extended you her mercy and sent this kind stranger to get you out of harm's way. Maybe you should take this as your sign to stop chasing after something that could spell your demise. 

A rational corner of your brain seems to flicker back and forth between things. It reminds you how he has not harmed you in the past, but that does not mean you are safe in future encounters. You still do not know him. You do not have any idea of what to expect from him and how you might be pushing your luck with the headless horseman.

Your expression is a slight grimace of frustration and inner turmoil, a displeased scowl on your face as you can’t help the huff that escapes you. You can’t tell if your frustration comes from the fact that you now had to remain intertwined with it all for longer, with the brooch still in your possession - Or if it stems from not being able to have your next encounter with Thompson.

Carefully, you adjust your balance when your horse has to step over a particularly large branch. It must have been torn down in the recent storms, you note to yourself. You keep your eyes on the side of the branch, trying to make sure your horse doesn’t get caught on anything. 

And that’s when you see it. So subtle in the corner of your eye, you might have missed it. There, in the distance, is a flicker in the thicket.

You turn your head to look at it better, to see it more clearly. And sure enough, it’s there and it’s moving. The dense trees, bushes and the overall uneven terrain of Golden Hills make it hard to gauge the distance, but it seems to be quite far back. 

With your breath hitching, you nearly don’t want to take your eyes off of it, scared you won’t be able to spot it again if you were to lose it now. It’s not long before your heart shoots up into your throat, your thoughts going into too many directions at once. 

Your horse is still continuing their leisurely pace down the hill, the ride in front of you also visibly relaxed on the short journey. You’re going to have to make a decision, and you have to make it fast - With every step you’re not only losing more of the visibility, but also time. 

What if it’s just a lantern and you’re doing this for nothing? The question is quickly tossed aside, simply because lanterns do not move like that. They do not illuminate like that. You swear that suddenly, the brooch weighs a ton as it rests in your pocket, the weight of it so much more prominent as you forget to breathe. Now or never. But is it smart to rush back into something you seem to have narrowly avoided..?

“H-hey,” You call out to the rider ahead of you, mentally cursing the small quiver in your tone as you try to hide your racing thoughts once they turn their torso to face you. “I forgot something up there, you go on ahead. I’ll be down in a bit!”

Gently letting your horse come to a stop, you watch as the other person does the same. Their expression shows slight surprise, slight concern, before they smile.

“Okay, well... Just make sure you make it back down in time!” 

“Of course, thank you, again.” 

You wave at them with an expression of gratitude for their help, and they return it before continuing along with their horse. You watch them for a second, watching the way they idly continue downhill, to the warm, safe stables with multiple other people and a lack of danger. For a second, you hesitate. You should just follow them. You should leave, get some food in your system, rest and leave this behind you. 

Looking back uphill to your right, you nearly cannot see the warm flickers anymore, making you picture just how far the intimidating mare must have stepped away already. You grit your teeth. 

The dirt under your horses galloping hooves is kicked up wildly, the leaves crunching and rustling as you and your companion continue at a nearly urgent pace. The branch your horse had so carefully stepped over is now leapt across with little hassle. You can feel the way the cold air becomes biting wind against your face as your horse rushes back up the hill. Between trees and rocks, traversing hills and dips in the ground with elegance and strength. You can feel the wind in your hair as you make your way up to where you had initially seen the flickering flames. 

Your heart is hammering in your chest, threatening to break your ribs with the force it seems to have, while your pulse is rushing in your ears. Somehow you simultaneously hope to find him and find nothing at the same time. But, if your sudden turn around is anything to go by, one part seems to outweigh the other, even if you’re not willing to admit it to yourself just yet.

Coming to a stop quite a distance behind your earlier campsite, you look around, trying to spot which direction they must have gone. Instinctively you look for any remains on the ground, any signs of those fiery hooves having made their way through here, but nothing seems out of the ordinary. Your mind goes back to the last encounters with her, and you do recall the way her flaming form seems to not cause harm to her surroundings…

With your lips pursed, you look back up, your eyes slightly narrow and your breath still to completely focus on any giveaway. Any light. Any sign. Your fingers twitch around the reigns you’re holding, anticipation in your veins keeping you tense like a bowstring.

A confused gasp leaves you once you spot another flicker of light, but…It’s wrong. You can’t pinpoint it exactly, the short flicker and flash of it having been way too short to even properly look at it but, it seems…Wrong. 

It seems too cold in its hue, too chaotic in its brightness and, horrifyingly, too close to you. 

The light that you assume to be Thompson and his mare was quite the distance away when you last saw it move through the gaps between trees and shrubbery, far enough away that it nearly feels fruitless to continue after them. But this flicker…It seems to have been just a few metres away from you and your horse. You can even feel the way your companion seems to grow somewhat anxious, which is not usually their behaviour around the headless phantom. You watch their tail swishing and ears moving around. It can’t have been him, you conclude.

You keep your eyes focused on the area you had caught the flicker in, waiting with baited breath to spot it again. With a gentle hand you make sure to give your horse some soothing pats along its neck, quietly speaking to calm them down.

Something about the situation puts a rock into your ribcage, a heavy weight dragging down like lead, resting at the base of your chest and nearly crushing your diaphragm with a cold, cold instinct of fear. It’s deadly silent for a moment, only the wind reminding you of your surroundings as it rustles the leaves.

Before you can think further about any of the things you feel under your skin, your eyes widen and immediately snap over to the light once more. This time you catch it more clearly, the way it seems to rush from behind the trees to a different spot. At first it reminds you of someone in a reflective coat, something you’d see worn near the streets of town to avoid accidents. But it doesn’t quite line up, especially given that it just…Disappears. 

Your face is scrunched up in confusion. Is it a reflection from somewhere else that looks bizarre up here? Is it some swarm of insects buzzing about that gleam and glitter? No, no it’s too bright for that, you’re sure. It can’t be a person, it doesn’t seem to be an animal. Is your mind playing tricks on you? Are your eyes seeing flickers where there are none? 

The unease is still sticking to you like wax when you urge your horse to continue forward once more, moving in a trot and trying to put distance between yourself and that specific spot. A shuddering sigh leaves your lips while your brain continues to race, trying to figure out what you had just seen. You opt to push it into the back of your mind for now, not wanting to freak yourself out over what could very well have been nothing of note. 

With newfound determination, you focus your gaze back upward to the faraway rows of trees, all but straining your eyes to find the familiar, less unnerving glow again. When you do notice it again, your shoulders relax a bit, glad that you did not lose them during that odd startle. Once again you cannot help but wonder if all these interruptions are trying to tell you something, trying to keep you away, keep you safe. 

You’re about to urge your horse to pick up its pace again and rush after the deadly duo, when you suddenly hear a voice call out from behind you. You twist your upper body somewhat uncomfortably while simultaneously stopping your horse in its tracks. Wide eyes and furrowed brows put your face into an expression of confusion and alertness. The voice was clearly audible, but the words seem to have muddled together, your brain unable to pull it apart into a coherent sentence. You stare behind yourself for a moment longer, ears and eyes focused to try and hear it again, to see something.

After another uneventful moment, you chalk it up to pareidolia of the howling winds and move onward.

Back in your earlier gallop, you rush through the autumnal forest, the cover of the night nearly threatening to swallow you and your horse whole, but you remain hellbent to reach your destination. You cannot help but wonder if Thompson and his mare are already long aware of you giving chase after them. You can only hope and pray to Aideen that they do not see your actions as aggressive or malicious. 

A satisfied gleam enters your eyes, nearly making them sparkle in the dark of night. You’re getting closer, you can see it. They must be moving at a more relaxed pace. Oddly enough, the mental image of the headless horseman and his companion on a relaxed, calm walk through the woods evokes a feeling in your chest you cannot quite pinpoint.

Thinking back to when you had last seen them, the way they interacted with each other, that sacred bond they so clearly share and the way it felt wrong to be close enough to them to nearly feel it. The thought of them, together and undisturbed in the stillness before a storm, Thompsons oddly gentle demeanour and his mares confidence - It nearly makes you want to smile. 

Any thoughts in your mind halt with a screech and the next second brings utter chaos. First you barely spot what is happening, second your horse sears upward, forcing you to lean into the movement to keep your balance. 

In front of you appears a cold, white shape, before it quickly seems to rush behind a nearby tree that’s surrounded by shrubbery. Your eyes are wide and a startled, short gasp leaves your lips at the sight. 

You huff when the front hooves of your horse hit the ground again, the thud dull and loud. Immediately, you begin to soothe them, leaning forward into their neck somewhat to ease them out of their panic as you embrace and pet them carefully.

“It’s okay…” You speak, voice hushed as your eyes continue to move around frantically. Your hands are beginning to tremble, your fingers unsteady against your horse's fur. You can nearly feel the way all the colour has drained out of your face. 

The only thing on your mind is the way that damned thing moved. How human it moved. The way it appeared out of nowhere, the way it looked so unnatural yet each movement looked nearly human, just ever so slightly uncanny. 

Your mind is running wild, wondering if you’re encountering a ghost, a spirit. You nearly call that idea silly but then you remember everything else you’ve been experiencing and suddenly the thought seems more plausible than ever.

When you try to recall what this…Thing looked like, you struggle. You can’t quite make out what its height was, your angle from atop the horse skewing the perspective slightly, and the way you startled definitely did not help. You can’t remember any expression, a face - The thought only makes you shudder. 

Your entire body feels like jello after multiple startles, yet somehow your muscles feel tense and rock solid. One more thing like that and you’d drop dead off of your horse, you think to yourself.

Whatever this thing is, it seems to be following you, maybe even taunting you. Yet it seems nearly…Innocent in what it does, startling you and then hiding again, it reminds you of a child, misbehaving and messing around, and then hiding as soon as the adults react.

Trying to keep your heart from reaching up into your throat, you continue onwards, this time at a walking pace. It’s at this point that you realise that you have entirely lost the last little flickers that alerted you to where the mysterious mare and her rider have disappeared off to. Your entire rush back up into the hills is for nothing, you realise.

Your shoulders slump and an annoyed scoff escapes you. 

“Shit.” Your voice is low, your tone defeated and resigned. You not only gave up your opportunity at a comfortable rest by Goldenleaf and getting back home before rainfall, but you risked your safety by blindly running back up the hills in the pitch black all for…Nothing. You chew the inside of your lip, feeling nearly bashful that it backfired so badly and -

“That’s a bad word!” 

You nearly topple off of your saddle as you give a short yelp. You twist your neck to the left so fast you swear you feel something pull. 

Standing to your left, barely distinguishable, is a child. His short frame is wrapped in some unnatural, ethereal white glow. The kid’s entire shape seems to be obscured by it and it’s hard to tell where the kid’s form ends and the white glow begins. The glow is subtle, all things considered, but it still faintly illuminates the surrounding leaves. 

Your shoulder slump, a cold sadness grabbing hold of your heart. A child. A ghostly, young boy who is currently grinning up at you, giggling at the fact that you just swore. His face is hard to focus on, his shape clearly not meant to be seen by the human eye, but you can still see his soft face squishing together with his big grin. 

You feel frozen. There is the undeniable urge to hold the boy in your arms, to comfort him, to bring him home to his parents, to weep. He cannot be older than seven years. The weight of that realisation makes your throat run dry, the faintest sting of tears in your eyes. What had happened to such a young kid..?

Looking down at the boy, your mind doesn’t even have the room or time to freak out at the fact that this seems to be a ghost, a real ghost right in front of you. All you can focus on is how small he is, how young he looks, how wrong it looks to see him in this undead state. 

He’s holding his hands behind his back, wobbling back and forth on his feet, still smiling up at you, amused at having caught an adult being bad. The giddy posture of his just makes you swallow the lump in your throat, unsure what to even say. The boy beats you to it, either way.

“You can’t say those things!” His voice is light, like a windchime, but slightly hard to understand and nearly muffled. You can hear the excitement in his tone, the soft giggle. Oh, how your chest is aching. “What will your mama think!?”

You can’t help but give the boy a smile, the sadness in it would be evident to anyone older, but the boy clearly misses the heaviness of your tone as you reply: 

“You’re right… Y-you got me.”  You swallow down more emotions that threaten to bubble up. You can feel the way your horse remains alert, curious but it doesn’t seem to be unnerved or tense. Somehow, that just makes you even sadder.

When you open your mouth to ask the boy what he’s doing out here, you’re cut off by the sounds of heavy hooves. Your eyes widen a fraction and in the corner of your vision you can see the way your horse’s ears move to point toward the source of the sound. 

Hesitant to take your eyes off of the small, ghostly child, you turn to look up toward the right. And sure enough, the sight makes the air leave your lungs. 

Your eyes immediately meet the gaze of the mare, and as always, it feels like she is able to peer right into your heart and soul. For a second, you wonder if she truly can. Her pace is relaxed, her head somewhat low as she seems to be in no rush. Her imposing energy nearly makes you wish you had not gone through with this plan. The entire evening, things seemingly tried to lure you away from the headless horseman, yet you pushed past it all. And now you are facing the consequences, her eyes intelligent and sharp.

Allowing your eyes to move upward, you let your gaze wander over Thompson. Your eyes stay on the ripped fabric that still hangs by his chest, knowing the missing piece is in your very own pocket. The thought makes your pulse spike, your posture tense. 

Mare and rider both seem relaxed, moving in a shallow curve to come to a stop in front of you, but facing the child. With the way they're standing, you're looking directly at the mare's side at a slight angle. What breaks the silence, is another giggle from the young boy, who is still standing off to the side. 

You can see his giddy body language continue, one hand clumsily on his face as he grins big and bright. It’s like watching a young kid play hide and seek, giggling when they are found and wanting nothing more than to continue playing. 

The mare gives a huff through her nose, her fiery mane flickering in the wind, its warmth reaching you in mere seconds of proximity. Without the rain you had seen her in last time, you are actually able to spot the way small embers fly upward in between the flames, floating up into the air like stars. 

For a moment it nearly seems like Thompson and the boy are having a conversation you cannot hear, something you are not able to catch. You notice the way Thompson’s gloved hand adjusts his holds on the reigns, his arms relaxed as he does this. 

Meanwhile, your own knuckles are nearly white under your gloves and your jaw is so tense it might just snap. Tonight has been nothing but confusing, throwing you off of your balance at every turn it seems to get. The scene in front of you is far from what you could have ever expected. 

Your gaze snaps over to Thompson when you catch movements from him, your eyes widening and your mouth tightening into a thin line as you watch the way he draws his sword from where it is strapped to his back. 

The blade glimmers in the flickering light of the mare’s flames, the sight of it making your blood run cold and your mind flare up in absolute terror and confusion. Your heart is beating loudly in your ears. Watching him wordlessly, you sit in your saddle absolutely shocked. 

What is he drawing his sword against? The child!? You!? Both seem utterly asinine, but as your mind jumps to worst case scenarios, you cannot help but hope it is you instead of the poor boy. A voice in your mind is loudly demanding to grab your reins and make down the hill as fast as possible, to get away from the deadly omen that has just drawn a weapon in your presence. But deep down, you know that if he is planning to harm you, even running wouldn’t help you. So as helpless as watching the reaper angle a scythe, you keep your eyes on him.

Forgetting to breathe, you watch the way he lowers his sword to his side, his shoulder moving when he twists the handle in his hand to adjust his grip on it. The ease with which he does this clearly tells you just how used he is to the shape and weight of it in his hand. Even though he isn’t even turned toward you, the thought makes you swallow dryly. 

You try to find answers in the mare and Thompson’s posture, but both seem neither agitated nor tense. Thompson’s movements seem stern, but not…Threatening.

His right arm is extended to the side as he slowly raises the sword, the tip of the blade pointed directly somewhere far off in the forest. Your brows furrow as all you can do is watch. Worried and confused, you look back down to the child, who seems entirely unconcerned and still oddly giddy as he looks down toward where the sword is pointed. Is this all a game to the kid? Are you… Missing something? You take note of the way the blade is not pointed at either you or the boy, so what is…? You catch the subtle way Thompsons torso seems to tilt slightly in response to the boy's laughter, his shoulders uneven as he does so. It reminds you of the posture one would have when tilting their head. 

Picturing that little gesture is all it takes for your angle of the situation to switch around. The Mare’s little huff, the way Thompson seems to be in no rush, the giggly demeanour of the child, the way Thompson seems stern but not in the way a deadly phantom would be, but rather…Like a mentor. Like a Parent.

Your eyes soften when you look down to the kid, who grins up at you one more time before hurriedly making his way down the direction Thompson was pointing toward. It’s hard to tell with the way the ghostly wisps of white obscure the child, but it nearly looks as if he’s waving to you.

With tiny, quick steps and a certain skip to his pace, the boy rushes behind one of the trees and…Disappears. You wait for a moment, waiting to see his little smiling face to pop back up…But it remains still. The boy is gone.

This…This isn’t a terrible phantom coming to punish some lost soul, this is…A shepherd. Someone guiding the poor young boy back on track, he’s… Here to pick him up. You have heard countless stories on Jorvik, talking about how this is the season for ghosts to stumble back into the land of the living. It makes sense that a young kid would be the one to waddle furthest from home and need to be taken back safely.

 The little ghost was playing around, lost in the woods, away from where he needs to be…So rider and mare came to help him back home. No wonder their body language nearly seemed fond, rather than annoyed or angered. The raise of the sword was no threat of violence, but instead how a parent would point to the doorway and urge you to come back inside after missing curfew. The comparison makes something in your chest sting. Had you…Misunderstood them entirely? Has all your worry and your panic been misplaced?

Your gaze flickers back up to Thompson, watching his back while he lowers his arms. You can see the way his shoulders slump, as if to sigh. He turns his torso back toward you, his companion adjusting her stance as well and facing you more, the reins in one of Thompson's hands. 

With practised ease, he sheathes the sword onto his back once more, the glimmering blade disappearing. The lack of a weapon in his hand does wonders to help your nerves. But watching this all unfold did quick work of a lot of your anxiety already.

You remain seated in your saddle somewhat stiffly, your eyes flickering back to the tree the boy had disappeared behind. The idea of him being gone makes your lips turn downward. 

“Where is…Where did he go?” 

Your question is hesitant and your tone somewhat hushed, unsure if you’ll even get an answer. It also sounds slightly strangled, as if a band is wrapped around your throat. With your sadness and worry for the ghostly child visible on your face you, look back to Thompson. 

He watches you for a second, his posture nearly..Sad. Thompson raises one hand in a loose fist and gently lets it rest against his chest, right at the height of one's heart. The reply feels relieving and heartbreaking as you try your best to understand it. “Home..?” You all but mouth, your voice nearly too airy to be audible. 

Thompson gives a gentle bow in confirmation. You repeat the single word again, whispering it to yourself as you glance back to the trees. 

You cannot help but wonder what it means. Home for a young ghost like that. Is it lonely? Is it full of his favourite candy that he can never get stomach aches from? Is it welcoming and warm? Are there friends for him to play hide and seek with? The heaviness of your thoughts make your eyes sting for a moment. 

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath. You don’t notice the way Thompson and his mare catch your sadness. 

Once you open your eyes again, you remember what you had even come all the way out here in the first place. You have countless questions you wish to ask, things you want to know - But you know that this is neither the time nor place for it. With still shaking hands, you look down and look through your pocket. In the corner of your vision you can spot the way the fiery mare leans slightly closer, her snout curious, trying to see what you’re doing. Thompson also straightens out his posture somewhat, clearly also confused for a moment at your sudden, wordless search.

A small sound of satisfaction leaves your lips when you manage to pull the brooch out of your coat pocket. You run your gloved thumb over the cold, golden metal once, an unnamed feeling spreading through your chest. Nevertheless, you give a soft sigh and gently fold the fabric a bit nicer underneath the brooch. 

Both of them recognize what you’re holding immediately, and both seem to be equally as surprised. 

“I - I came to give it back to you.” You try your hardest to keep your voice even, but your nerves are still present no matter what you try. “Thank you for lending it to me.”

Thompson's hands raise ever so slightly, like he is surprised at your words. Before you can say anything else or try to read his body language any more, you let out a short, surprised sound as the mare steps closer. To your credit, even Thompson seems slightly startled by the sudden movement, so you don’t feel as bad. 

You lean away from her slightly, your heart racing at the proximity to the intimidating mare. Her snout presses into your palm that’s holding the brooch, seemingly inspecting it. Your torso leans away from her, your eyes wide as you let her do what she wishes. 

In the meantime, your horse seems entirely unbothered, simply a bit curious at best. The mare’s flaming mane warms up your skin and as you watch her nudge and sniff the brooch, you cannot help but smile a bit, the way she is acting nearly …Cute.

You don’t realise, but Thompson catches the way you begin to smile, and it seems to put him at ease a bit, watching you relax around the mare. Once she’s done, a short huff escapes her while she leans back, nearly as if she is pleased with whatever she was checking it for. 

A nervous, little laugh leaves your lips at that. You lift your hand up higher and extend it out toward Thompson, for him to take the brooch from you. 

You nearly hesitate in your movement, your hand slightly stuttering. Do you really want to give it back? Lose the last thing that ties you to the headless horseman? What if this is the last time you’ll see him and the mare? 

Before you can worry about it any further, you feel the leather of his gloves brush your palm as he takes it from your grasp, his hand so gentle you can barely believe it’s the same hands that held his sword with such ease.

He runs his gloved thumb over the golden metal, just like you did. He seems slightly surprised, possibly at the way it shines and glimmers after you cleaned it. His hand closes around the brooch and he gives you another gentle bow, this one longer than the last, a sign of his gratitude. You cannot help but wonder, would there be a smile on his face?

While giving your horse a few pats on its neck, you watch as Thompson carefully pins the brooch back where it belongs, using it to put the ripped green fabric back together, leaving it now only connected by the pins needle. It’s an odd sight, forever a sign of your involvement in his existence. A reminder, you were here. It nearly feels surreal. 

For a second, he adjusts the brooch somewhat, until he seems happy with the result and lets his hand fall back down to rest on his thigh. The sight of him gently fiddling with a brooch is nearly endearing.

His mare gently begins to step past you and your eyes never leave the two of them. Her heavy hooves sound muffled on the soil and leaves, and you mentally note that you were indeed right - She leaves no damage in her path. Once she walks past you and the distance between you and the mare becomes greater, you feel the lack of warmth nearly violently quick. A shiver runs under your skin, becoming audible when it gets past your lips.

You watch the way Thompson gently comes to a stop again, and you wonder what he’ll do next. He’s a few steps ahead of you, facing to head deeper into the hills. Then, he holds his hand out, beckoning you to follow. You see the way the mare’s gaze lands on you as he looks behind herself as well. 

Immediately, your eyebrows move up and your lips fall slightly agape. You stare at them for a moment, feeling your heart hammering in your chest at the option of joining them on a ride. Above you, you spot two magpies landing in a nearby tree, leaves rustling where they land.

You swallow nervously, your eyes falling back down to the pair that is still waiting on your answer. 

With Goldenleaf and the storm forecast temporarily forgotten, you nod, a small smile on your face as you gently urge your horse to fall into pace next to Thompson and his mare.

Immediately you feel warm again.

[the-void-writes]

All That Thaws In The Cold 2024

I’ve been wanting to join Timi’s winter prompt writing for a while now, but I’ve been fighting off an awful stomach bug that’s hopefully going away. So I apologize if this makes zero sense lol.

Prompt: Visiting the Hometown

Summary: Rio and Jason are sent on a delivery mission that takes them to Rio’s second childhood home, and everything left inside of it.

WC: 3.1K

Rio spent the whole drive trying to control his breathing. His hands were stiff around the steering wheel, knuckles growing whiter the closer they got to the drop off point. It was typical for him to be grouchy or tense on delivery days— Vesely had all of the tech in the world, but he couldn’t afford a mail carrier. This was a different kind of tension, though, a vulnerability that only Jason was allowed to see.

They pulled their truck up along the sidewalk of a simple neighborhood. The house beside them was small and dirty, with an odd dip in its roof that had gathered a pile of frost. The frozen grass on the lawn had completely taken over, bleeding through the holes in the chain link fence. Rio turned off the engine and stared at the house in silence.

“Is this the drop-off?” Jason asked.

“It’s a rest stop,” Rio said blankly. “We’ll wait here until our client shows up. I’m sorry if this becomes an overnight delivery.”

Jason smiled. “Oh, you monster— Making me spend a night with you.”

His humor earned him a soft chuckle, but Rio’s smile disappeared just as fast. He hopped out of the truck and approached the house. Jason followed behind him, looking around at the dead flowers and growing spots of moss on the sidewalk. Rio kicked at a loose piece of grass.

“I need to call the landscaper,” he grumbled.

“Does Gabe own this place?”

Rio closed his eyes. “No.”

He knelt down on the porch and pulled back the welcome mat, revealing a key. After a forceful jiggle of the doorknob, he and Jason stepped into the house. It was even smaller on the inside, starting as a living room with a dining table in the corner. A dim hallway lay before them, which turned a sharp corner into darkness. The only light came from the dull sun pouring through the windows.

“Cozy,” Jason said.

“Barely.” Rio called out towards the back of the house. “Anyone home?”

First, there was nothing. Rio started to relax, until something metal hit a piece of tile.

“Ah, shit.”

Slippers hit the floor as a woman rushed out of the small kitchen. She was tall and bundled in three button-up sweaters. Deep wrinkles sat under her eyes, framed by the brown-and-gray curls that fell beside her face. When she leapt into Rio’s arms, Jason caught a sudden whiff of cinnamon.

“You should have called!” she said, her accent several times thicker than Rio’s. “Where have you been?”

“Sorry, Miss B.” Rio hugged her quickly and released himself from her grip. “Busy.”

“Don’t act like a stranger, Yo-yo. I’m your mother, for God’s sake.”

“I asked you to stop calling me that.”

“You’re such a soldier, you know, you’re too tense. You used to love being called Yo-yo—”

Rio made a gesture for her to stop talking, but it was too late. Jason grinned to himself and let the nickname sink into his memory.

“And who is this handsome young man?”

“My coworker,” Rio said. “Jay, this is Lucille.”

Lucille rolled her eyes. “Please, mijo, you’re killing me.” She shook Jason’s hand. “We’re Rio’s foster parents, me and Bruno.”

“He’s still here?” Rio asked.

“Of course! Here, I’ll get him.”

“Please don’t—”

“Bruno, your son is here!”

Lucille strolled down the small hallway and disappeared around the corner. Rio groaned and hit his head with the butt of his palm.

“I really thought they’d be out of town.”

Jason smiled. “You don’t want to introduce me to your parents?”

“We’ve got shit to do. I didn’t want this to be a reunion.”

“We can stand to wait until the client gets here.” He squeezed Rio’s hand. “Let’s stay a while. Your mother seems happy to see you.”

“Wait until she asks what you do for a living. We’ll be here all day.”

“I’d love that.”

Rio scoffed. “Really?”

“I don’t think you realize how lucky you are, Rio. Your mother still wants to talk to you.”

Regret stirred in Rio’s eyes. Before he could apologize, Lucille returned with a shorter man in tow. His dry hair was somewhere between brown and blonde, and his beard resembled more of a bird’s nest. He nodded once to Rio with a lazy smile.

“How’s it going, kid?”

“Fine,” Rio said.

“Alright.”

He vanished around the corner of the kitchen and returned with a beer. Jason watched in wonder as he chugged half of the bottle, never taking his eyes off of his son.

“Who’s this?” Bruno asked.

“Jason.”

“Boyfriend?”

Rio clenched his fist, and Bruno laughed.

“Just asking.”

“You’re just in time for dinner,” Lucille said. “I’m almost finished. Please, say you’re staying.”

Jason stepped in before Rio could back out. “We’d love to, ma’am.”

She grinned and took Jason by the arm. “I hope you’re not scared of cayenne, Jason.”

“I happen to love it,” he said.

Lucille gasped and hugged him. “Yo-yo, he’s perfect!”

With one last groan from Rio, Lucille dragged Jason into the small kitchen. Despite the limited counter space, there was clutter everywhere. Open dishes of butter sat by the toaster, magazines and cookbooks were piled high by the door, and a small television flickered with a grainy blue image of an old Hollywood movie.

Lucille cooked like a wizard, maneuvering the small space with precision and speed. Jason wasn’t even sure he had helped her at all when she called the others for dinner. When they brought the food to the table, Bruno and Rio were stuck on either side of the couch, staring at the wall in silence.

“Don’t you boys remember how to talk to each other?” Lucille asked.

“There’s not much to share, Lucy,” Bruno said. “Yo-yo’s got one of those fancy government jobs, very hush-hush.”

“Then why don’t you say something?”

“Not much to share. Our neighbor got a new cat, that’s something— damn thing keeps digging through our trash. I told her if I find that ugly hairball in our yard, I won’t hesitate to—”

“Okay—” Lucille grabbed her husband’s hand. “Why don’t you help me bring in the good wine from the garage?”

They disappeared down the hall again, leaving Jason and Rio in the cramped living room. Rio hung his head back over the side of the couch.

“I should have just gone for a motel,” he mumbled. “I don’t even care if the showers are busted, we just need to leave.”

Jason sat beside him and stroked his hair. “Just breathe, Rio. We can do this.”

“You see it, right?”

“I can definitely see how they’d bother you. One showers you in attention, and the other talks about hunting cats.”

Rio grunted. “And you’re not ready to check out yet?”

“Here, I’ll make you a deal— if they make you so ungodly uncomfortable that you can’t stand another minute, just squeeze my arm, and we’ll leave. Does that work?”

“What constitutes ‘ungodly uncomfortable?’”

“Whatever discussion you think you won’t get through without throwing someone through a wall.”

Rio chuckled. “Fair.”

After a moment, Rio opened his side for Jason to rest against. The close contact was a relief to both of them. Finally, they could spend time together without being called away for work or meetings, even if it meant staying with Rio’s lively family. Speaking of which, his parents still hadn’t returned from the garage.

“I hope they didn’t get lost,” Jason said.

“She’s probably sorting him out,” Rio said. “He’s not very talkative, and when he does talk— Well, you just saw it.”

“Right. Jason thought for a moment. “Bruno said he knew where you worked.”

“He knows I’m head of security for a private business, and that’s all he needs to know. As far as they’re both concerned, I made it into the army.”

“Do your parents work?”

Rio snickered. “The old man’s got a business plan. He thinks he’s gonna play the bars, get picked up by a hot new manager, and start selling CD’s— and of course Lucille believes in him. She’s dreaming of that rock star money.”

“I see.”

“No wonder they live in a crumbling house, right?”

“Is there anything we can do to get them out?”

“Believe me, I’ve tried to get them out of this crappy little shack.”

“I wouldn’t call it ‘crappy,’ Rio. It’s got—” Jason cleared his throat. “Charm.”

“You’re such a bad liar.”

Jason chuckled. “You know, I’ve seen some nice houses closer to Preston, they might like it there. There’s plenty of work opportunities for both of them, and if Bruno really wants to play, the mall is probably a better venue than a bar.”

The unease in Rio’s eyes vanished as he smiled. “Jay, you’re too good for this world.”

“I just— want to make sure your family is okay.”

“They’re actually happy here, if you can believe it. Sentimental value, I guess, they’ve got too many memories in this place.” Rio shrugged. “Least I can do is pay the place off for them, get some contractors out every now and then to keep it from caving in.”

He said it so casually, as though it was merely a daily routine. For all of his standoffish comments and masks of annoyance, he still loved his foster family. No matter how hard he tried to bury himself under a cold exterior, he couldn’t hide his true, selfless heart. Jason slipped his hand into Rio’s and kissed him softly on the cheek.

“You’re a good man, Rio. It must be hard on you, as well, but you do it anyway. I’m so proud of you.”

Rio sighed for a long time, his chest shaking as he closed his eyes. He took Jason’s face into his hands and kissed him hard.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he whispered.

“Well, I don’t plan on leaving until you’re tired of me.”

“Who could ever get tired of an angel like you?”

“If you keep calling me Angel, then I get to call you Yo-yo.”

Rio pulled away from him. “Hey, that’s uncalled for.”

“It’s precious.”

“If you tell anyone—”

The door to the garage opened again, and Rio’s parents returned with a bottle of wine.

“Come on, you two,” Lucille said. “Let’s have a real holiday meal.”

Rio stood up, offering his arm for Jason to prop himself up with. He stumbled slightly before regaining his balance.

“Are you okay?” Lucille asked.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Jason said. “It’s just hard to stand up sometimes.”

“Of course, you’re so tall. You should really try yoga classes— getting out might help your complexion, too—”

Rio glared at her. “Zip it, Mom.”

“Okay, fine, but you’ll thank me later.”

They all sat for dinner, which Jason couldn’t get enough of. Lucille practically wept as she watched him eat serving after serving.

“It’s been so long since I got to cook for someone outside of the family,” she said. “Do you really like it?”

Jason nodded. “Ma’am, it’s been a long time since I ate something this good.”

Lucille cooed and pinched Rio’s arm. “You better keep him, mijo.”

“That’s his choice,” Rio said.

“Why would I ever choose to leave?” Jason asked.

Rio closed his eyes and forced a smile. Lucille quickly jumped to another topic, sensing the tension in her son.

“How is your daughter?”

“She’s alright. She got the highest score on her science test last week.”

Lucille clapped. “I knew it, she’s the smartest girl in the world.”

“You said your sister was the smartest,” Bruno said.

“Not after she bought that hybrid car. All that money, just for a rear camera.” She scrunched up her face. “Jin isn’t driving yet, right?”

“No,” Rio said. “She’s barely fourteen.”

“Fourteen?! You should have called us!”

“I did, and you said to call back because you were at a bar.”

Bruno snapped his fingers. “Paulie’s, that’s right! I almost sold that place out.”

Rio rolled his eyes. Jason linked their hands under the table, waiting for Rio to squeeze, but he didn’t. He gave Jason a thankful smile and kept eating.

“So,” Lucille said, “are you ever going to bring Jin over again?”

“Sure, I’ll bring her as soon as you clean your garbage out of the guest room.”

“Hey,” Bruno said, “that drum set still works fine.”

Rio nearly laughed. “It smells like every drink you’ve ever had in your life.”

“It’s soaked with years of experience. It would be bad luck to wash it.”

Jason blinked. “Do people normally wash drums?”

Lucille laughed. “Oh, it’s so nice to have you all here. Thank you for coming, mijo.”

Rio looked away. “Sure.”

Her eyes fell on Jason, and he finally remembered how it felt to sit with his parents, long before his wings had grown. The soft and caring smile of a mother had been lost to him for so long.

“Jason, what is your family like?”

He stuttered for a second. “Oh, they’re… nothing like you guys.”

“Are they British? I can hear it in your voice.”

“My mother was British, but she’s lost her accent after marrying my father. I guess I’ve picked up bits of it.”

“What do your parents do?”

“You don’t have to answer,” Rio said.

“No, it’s fine,” Jason said. “Last I checked, my father was still running for mayor. Mother never got to work after I entered the picture, so I’m not sure where she’s gone.”

Lucille knit her perfect brows in worry. “You don’t talk to your parents?”

“Oh, they kicked me out a long time ago. It’s not important.”

Bruno nodded slowly. “I see.”

“Haven’t you had anyone in your life, aside from Rio?” Lucille asked. “A partner, or children?”

“Don’t—” Rio cut her off. “Don’t ask him.”

“Rio, please, it’s okay.” Jason smiled sadly at Lucille. “My last partner was a father, and together we were godparents to our neighbor’s son. It had always been my dream to have a family, and those boys… they were the light of my life.”

“What happened?”

Jason took a deep breath. “We lost our godson. It was years ago… I haven’t seen any of them since.”

Bruno considered him carefully. “So you left them?”

Rio leapt from his seat and slammed his hands on the table. “Don’t you dare— He didn’t choose to leave, they forced him to. They blamed him for everything just because he lived. It wasn’t his fault— Don’t you ever talk to him like that again.”

Bruno leaned back in his seat. “Okay, son— I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

Rio sank back in his seat, unable to erase his scowl. Cautiously, Lucille took Jason’s hand.

“You’re always welcome here, Jason. We won’t force you away.” She smiled. “It makes me so happy, seeing the effect you have on our son.”

“Lucille—” Rio started to say.

“You’re never this passionate, mijo. It means you really love him.”

Rio unclenched his hand, shaken by his mother’s words. He rested his head in his hands and stewed in his turmoil for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve been ungrateful.”

Lucille pursed her lips. “No, Yo-yo, you’re perfect. It’s been a hard life for you, we know.”

“We’ve tried to do good by you,” Bruno said. “We still need to work on it, clearly. I promise, we will.”

“Neither of you are the problem. You do fine, alright? Don’t talk about yourselves like that.”

Lucille smiled and took his hand. “You’re a sweetheart, Rio. We love you.”

Rio closed his eyes. “Thanks.”

“And we love your partner, too.”

“Oh,” Jason said shyly, “thank you. You’re all lovely.”

The air felt lighter as they finished dinner, making small talk that they knew wouldn’t set each other off. Even Bruno had begun to offer more than a few sentences. The conversation felt so natural that Jason didn’t realize the sun was setting until Rio’s phone went off. He checked it and rolled his eyes.

“Figures— Client’s late, they’ll show up tomorrow.”

Lucille’s eyes lit up. “You can spend the night, if you’d like. No need to leave this late.”

“Are you sure we’re not intruding?”

“You’re fine, son,” Bruno said. “I think Lucy will cry if you don’t.”

Rio huffed. “Fine, twist my arm. You good with that, Jay?”

“Of course,” Jason said. “Thank you both for your generosity.”

Lucille hopped up and walked down the hall. “I’ll set up the guest room.”

Rio wanted to say something, but he shut his mouth quickly. After the sun had finished setting, and the night’s snow had begun to fall, Rio and Jason went into the guest bedroom. The closet door wouldn’t shut all the way, and there was indeed a drum set tucked lazily into the corner of the room.

“You two should be cozy in here,” Bruno said.

“You’re fine with us sharing?” Rio asked.

“Rio, you’re a grown-ass man, you can sleep in the same room as your boyfriend. We won’t get you in trouble— and you know, if you shove a towel under the door, we won’t be able to hear you two—”

“Get the hell out of here!”

Bruno laughed. “Goodnight, boys.”

He closed the door, and Rio looked back at Jason with despair in his eyes. Jason burst into a fit of laughter as Rio sighed.

“I’m so sorry,” he said.

Jason sat up as he approached the bed. “Are you sure you don’t want that towel for the door?”

“I’ll fucking walk back to Gabe, you know.”

“Right, and I’ll stay here, have breakfast with your parents. I’m sure they’d love to tell me all of your most embarrassing stories.”

Rio chuckled and laid down beside him. The bed was far too small, but luckily, Jason was as thin as a post sign. He fit perfectly against Rio’s chest, a position that put the soldier at ease.

“You were right,” Jason said. “That drum set reeks.”

“I hate to tell you, he’s never getting rid of it.”

“Then I guess we’ll really have to talk about moving them out, if we’re going to keep visiting them.”

Rio focused on him in the dark room. “You really like my family?”

“I love it here, Rio. I’ve wanted what you have for so long, and every time I think I have it… it’s gone.”

“You’re welcome with us, Jay. We won’t leave you.”

“Rio… are you sure you want me?”

His distant stare pierced Rio’s heart. The old soldier brought Jason’s face to his and kissed him softly.

“Since the day you said you loved me, I’ve known I could never want anyone else.”

Jason relaxed against his chest and closed his eyes. “Thank you.”

[carleyplays]

Rhodes stood outside Autumn's house in Evergreen Harbor, the crisp winter air nipping at his face as he gathered the courage to knock on her door. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling—maybe guilt, maybe confusion—but after the past few weeks, he knew they needed to talk. Their relationship had been so undefined, hanging in a strange balance of casual intimacy and unspoken emotions. He lifted his hand and knocked.

A few moments later, the door creaked open, and there she was—Autumn, bundled in a cozy sweater, her hair tied up in a messy bun. She smiled, a warmth that felt both familiar and distant at the same time.

“Rhodes! I didn’t expect you to stop by,” she said, a mix of surprise and happiness in her voice.

“I wanted to see you before I headed back,” Rhodes replied, stepping inside for a brief moment of warmth before they left. “I thought maybe we could take a walk.”

Autumn agreed, and soon they found themselves walking down the familiar path towards the pond across the street. The pond was where they had first met, back when things had been simpler—just two teenagers who happened to strike up a conversation on a summer day. It had always been their spot, a place to sit, talk, and escape the world for a little while. But today felt different. Today, the air between them was thick with unspoken tension.

They reached the pond, and without saying a word, they both sat down at the edge, staring out at the icy water. Rhodes wrapped his arm around Autumn, and she leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his body against the cold. They sat like that for a moment, just taking in the stillness of the scene, until Autumn broke the silence.

“Rhodes… do you want to have kids?”

Her question hit him like a punch to the gut. He blinked, staring down at her, trying to process what she had just asked. Did she really mean it? Were they actually having this conversation? They weren’t even exclusive, and now she was asking about kids?

“W-What?” Rhodes stammered, his heart starting to race. He sat up straighter, suddenly feeling the need to create distance between them. “Are you asking me if I want to have kids… right now?”

Autumn turned her face to him, her expression calm but serious. “Not now, no. But… someday. I mean, it’s something we should talk about, right?”

Rhodes’ mind raced. He had never thought about having this conversation so soon, especially not with Autumn. But kids? He always thought that one day he’d have the family—the 2.5 kids, the house with the white picket fence, Sunday dinners like his mom made, and a yard where his kids would play. He had grown up surrounded by family, and it was everything to him.

“Yeah, I do… eventually,” Rhodes finally replied, his voice unsteady. “I mean, I’ve always thought I’d have a family. It’s just—” He paused, searching for the right words. “It’s how I grew up, you know? Big family, everyone together. I loved that. I want that for my kids one day.”

Autumn shifted slightly, pulling her knees up to her chest as she stared out at the frozen pond. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately,” she said softly, almost as if she were talking to herself. “And I don’t know if I do. Want kids, I mean.”

Rhodes turned to her, the weight of her words hitting him. “You don’t want kids?”

She shook her head, her eyes downcast. “No, I don’t think so. I used to think I did because that’s what everyone around me wanted. My family, my friends—they all talked about it like it was this given thing. But… when I really think about it, I don’t see myself as a mom. It’s just not me.”

Autumn gave a small, sad smile. “ I don’t want to be tied down by kids, or… or have to give up my freedom to do other things. I love my life the way it is. I love having time to myself, exploring new places, pursuing my own passions. Kids don’t fit into that.”

“I don’t know if I can imagine a life without that,” Rhodes admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve always wanted a family like the one I grew up in.”

Autumn sighed, resting her head against his shoulder again. “I know. And I’m not asking you to give that up, Rhodes."

[cyborg-franky]

Thank you @mamamittens for letting me work with your lovely OC once again! I tried to add eveything you wanted <3 please enjoy!

Thatch x OC Platonic friendhips with Marco and Ace WC: 2,300 SFW

Pulling the blanket around her tighter she glared at the frost-covered porthole, gritting her teeth in a bitter attempt to soften their chattering noise. The room was silent apart from chittering teeth, and the occasional sound of large pieces of ice bouncing off the ship's hull. She nuzzled into the blanket, chiding herself for being so ridiculous sitting and quivering like a fearful child of the dark. She huffed some hair from her face and glanced across the room.

She needed to eat, a hot drink would help, and being near a certain mera mera owner would also go down a treat. It was a shame Ace was actively avoiding her, too annoyed at all the times she silently snuck up on him and made the man jump out his skin. The unintentional prank had been funny at first but she didn’t realise how much she relied on the heat he gave off and just existing around people until it had been a full week of travling this awful, freakish cold part of the world.

Her teeth chatter louder, her fingers feeling frozen as she painfully clutched at the blanket. As tightly bundled as she could she closed her eyes and thought over all the choices open to her. She couldn't just lay in bed the entire time the ship was stuck in traveling this abysmal winter ocean. She was already bored, something she had never feared before but now she was itching to be social with everyone or at least bask in their company and listen to the wild stories the others could come out with. 

–

Wearing as many clothes as she could, huge blankets draped over her wings and yet they still felt the biting air itch through the feathers and prickle with malice on her skin. She sighed, her breath coming out in a plume of smoke. Her glasses had steamed up the second she stepped out. Everything about cold weather wasn’t fun, she wasn’t comfortable and just was not enjoying the experience.

She needed Ace but he was tired of being made to jump out of his skin. Maybe it was because they were never alone and it was always a source of great amusement for those around him and Ace had a pretty fragile ego and self-esteem. She never meant it though, but that didn’t make her feel any better about her friend's avoidance of the situation. 

Maybe locating the fire imp of a man and apologizing would be enough to win him over and be allowed in his blissfully warm and cozy company. She wasn't the type of person to rush but she needed out of this bitter cold, heading to the kitchen like a ghost in the falling snow she found her way to the back door of the kitchen.

Opening the door, knowing it would be unlocked, the habits of the chefs sneaking out for smoke breaks remained unchanged no matter the weather. She’d even seen Thatch in the pouring rain trying to smoke on one of his harder, longer shifts.

She stepped in, glad for the rush of heat washing over her face, defrosting her chilly red nose and cheeks. Her wings flexed, the feeling going back to them and her fingers, wriggling them, glad they hadn’t fallen off in the trek to the kitchen. Maybe she was being dramatic but she really didn’t like this cold, feeling it deeper in her bones than most. 

“Where’s Thatch?” She asked.

“Fuck m- Oh shit, it’s you.” The man said, hand to his chest and eyes wide before his expression shifted to furrowed brows and a sigh. Still not used to the commander's large winged and silent partner.

“I’ll get him.”

She nodded and sat on one of the benches along the wall, hands clasped in her lap, wings awkwardly against the wall as she tapped her foot, attention held by the movements as she basked in the heat from all the stoves and fires around her. 

“Hey babe, heard you scared the shit out of Sim,” Thatch said with a laugh, about the only one who still found the jump scares hilarious even when it was him doing the jumping. He walked over and placed warm large hands on her cheeks and kissed her cold forehead.

“What can I do for you angel?”

“I need to be around Ace,” she said and saw Thatch’s brows quirked. “His heat, he’s a human heater but I know he avoids me now and I’m freezing. And before you ask ‘Why can’t you just stay in bed’ I don’t want to. I just need to say sorry to Ace.” She sighed but leaned into the hands on either side of her face, thankful for the warm and loving touch, melting into it.

“Hm, I don’t know how to say sorry to him other than give him food and I don’t have much spare before dinner today, getting to the end of the supplies so tryin’ to make ends meet a little more,” Thatch said and pulled away gently. She sighed and nodded, her shoulders sagged in defeat.

“Buuuut.” Thatch sat down next to Nikia, a hand on her leg as he hummed, acting like he was thinking of the answer to all her problems as he rubbed his beard thoughtfully. “Maybe the birds know how to give Ace a proper sorry, they are both in Marco’s office right now, I know that’s another trip outside but Ace is their boyfriend…” Thatch shrugged, rubbing her leg gently, smiling when she seemed to straighten, reenergized with options for getting her heater back.

–

There was a knock at the door and Marco and Ray looked up at the same time, both using the weather to their advantage and getting a fire going in the corner, making themselves tea, Ray cuddled up in blankets in the big armchair while Marco was almost still in his normal state of undress, just a purple shirt replaced with a sweater. He ran cold after all, this wasn’t the hardest weather he’d ever had to deal with.

Ray mumbled and sent Marco a pleading look to step away from his book for a moment and go open the door, the pigeon's reluctance to move, his warm little self-made nest too good to leave. Marco rolled his eyes but his lazy smile never left his lips as he pushed away from the desk, walking over and opening the door. He saw Nikia shaking and trembling, snow started to catch in her hair and Marco tutted.

“Could have just come inside yoi.” He opened the door for her, amused at how Ray grumbled to himself and huddled into his pile of comfort even more. “Yes, well, wouldn't be polite would it?” Nikia replied in an after-of-fact response as she now stood in the middle of the office, feeling like a loose end before Marco spoke again.

“What do we owe the pleasure? Did Thatch hurt himself again? He needs to do stretches before he gets up to no good, he’s not a young man anymore.” Marco shook his head, clicking his tongue against his teeth and returning to his chair, flopping down and hearing the wood creek, feeling the chair slide back on the floor as he kept his eye on her, wanting to see the reaction that would surely be clear as day.

He could feel his grin growing into a full smug smirk when they did their usual tells of being shy and nervous. Marco always liked to make people squirm a little. “Nothing like that,” she said and pulled at her sleeves, playing with the loose thread on one of them, avoiding eye contact with them both as a red blush splashed across her cheeks, she was glad the cold had already pinched her cheeks into a red glow, would be hard to tell that Marco had his prize of getting a rise out of her.

“I need to find Ace and I also need to figure out how to say sorry to him.” She wrung her hands together, trying to make it seem like just a simple attempt to keep her hands warm. “But I don’t know how.” She said another shrug, her wings twitching, almost knocking off their covers.

Ray sat in his pile of blankets and glanced at Marco. “I think he’s with the Spades in one of the playrooms, cards or something.” He said and Marco nodded “Deuce pulled him away a few hours ago, I don’t think he’d have moved from that spot either… and as for saying sorry…” Marco rubbed the stubble at his chin, grinning, a sly smirk on his face. “Well, the way we say sorry to him always works.”

“Marco!” Ray threw a cushion across the room, falling short of the doctor. Nikia could feel herself smile, another reason why she loved her life on this boat, despite it being in the coldest ocean she’d ever had to endure was the warmth of her crewmate's hearts.

Simple actions like this made her feel at home. She rolled her eyes at the two birds and waited for more constructive help. Crossing her arms as she ambled over to their fire, careful not to let a wing get too close to the dancing flames, she wanted to be warm but not that warm.

“I have an idea, something Ace made when he was annoyed the last time you made him jump, that time he set fire to the sails, remember?” Ray said watching Nikia pause in thought, nodding. “Let me just..” Ray managed to pull himself from his shroud of warmth enough to cross the room, going into what the doctor lovingly referred to as his junk draw with how messy the Phoenix was it might as well have been his junk office.

Ray pulled out a bracelet, it was purple, blue, and white string braided and every so often there was a bell. Ray waved it in the air, the tingle of the bells catching her ear. Everyone always joked about putting bells on her, seemed Ace had been irritated into creating said accessory.

“Maybe head down there wearing this yoi.” Marco suggested as Ray handed it to her. She looked it over, it was at least pretty, and well made, not something she thought Ace’s level of craftsmanship could conjure up if she was being honest with herself.

“This is cute,” 

“Yeah, he sometimes makes little bracelets like this, we have one each just without the bells. Ace might be annoyed at you but he doesn’t go to the effort of this kind of thing unless he likes you.” Ray explained as she held out her wrist, watching him attach it.

She shook her arm and enjoyed how it sounded, touched at Ace’s thoughtfulness despite his ire at her tendencies to pop up silently and cause him to accidentally commit acts of arson around the ship. She thanked the two and headed off, the desire to be warm and to make amends with the commander flowed through her steps as her pace picked up.

—

“You have GOT to be cheating,” Deuce sighed and tossed his hand on the table, watching as Ace grinned at him, collecting up all his winning chips before he heard a tingle of bells, familiar sounding bells. He turned to face the door, seeing Nikia. The first time he’d not been spooked. 

“Hey Ace, can I talk to you?” she asked and he nodded, excusing himself from the table and heading over to her.

Nikia could already feel how nice and warm the room was, how just standing near Ace made her feel warm and soft. Like she didn’t even need to be in so many layers, he also must have been purposely putting out extra heat for the sake of his friends because no one was covered up, acting like the world wasn't ice and snow.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry for always scaring you and I’m sorry that you feel you have to avoid me now, but look.” She jingled the bells and his eyes fell to the bracelet he’d made. 

He ran a hand through his hair, watching the bells catch the warm light in the room, sparkling like gems against the bright colorful cord he’d used. He put his hands on his hips, pulling his eyes from the bracelet, making himself stare into her eyes, how sincere she seemed even with her usual calm and quiet tone.

“Do you like it?” He asked.

Nikia took a second before she realized what he meant, she nodded and did another wiggle, the sound pleasing to her ears. “I do, it’s very pretty, thank you.”

Ace scuffed his boot on the floor, hands in his pockets as he mumbled, not used to being thanked, despite how far he had come, and how much he had grown, there were times he would simply be that awkward boy that didn’t know how to handle postivity. He shrugged it off “Don’t mention it, least I can hear you now huh?”

“Do you forgive me?” She asked, hopeful, Ace nodded, taking a hand out of his shorts so he could pat her shoulder. “Yeaaah, I think so.” He teased a little. She was happy, glad she could make amends and get to bask in the warmth that surrounded him. 

Later that night she was joined by Thatch, his strong arms pulling her into his chest as he kissed every inch of her face gently.

The way she blushed when the spade pirates had made her part of their playful banter which heated her cheeks up more than Ace’s devil fruit did. She smiled and just fell into Thatch’s embrace. Feeling comfy in all the warmth and comforts.

[outpost51]

poison and tail for the dragon asks? 👉👈🥺

Dragon Asks

Poison: share a snippet that’s all about relationships (good or bad).

Oh boy… Unlikely Adventures? Unlikely Adventures. From chapter 6:

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“And the angels don’t do anything about it?”

Zadimus grimaced against her scalp. “Not until they start hurting people. They’re creators and caretakers of souls first, defenders of Life’s most precious creations second. Demons are just Death’s loyal janitors.”

“You sound bitter.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re a bad liar for a demon.”

“And you’re terribly brave for a human.”

Sensing the end of Zadimus’s willingness to divulge information for the night, Dillon slipped off his lap and stretched. “It’s late,” she announced. Her eyes drifted to the locked basement door. Fat lot of good that lock did earlier. “Do you think maybe… you could stay here tonight? In case another one leaks out.”

“It’s doubtful, but I was planning on staying anyway.” If he heard the little tremble of fear in her voice, he didn’t indicate it.

“Awfully confident in ourselves, aren’t we?”

Dillon wasn’t sure she liked the sneer she got in response. “Yes, but I already moved in before we ever struck a deal.”

“Excuse me?” she shouted at his back. He was already a third of the way up the stairs and she had to scramble to catch up.

“I claimed your house as my lair, you’re welcome. Now no one else will come sniffing along to feast on the endless souls, salads, and breadsticks your mother creates.” He snickered at the statue she’d become in the hallway, frozen in shock and sputtering in offense. “Would it make you feel better if I wore heels and an apron around the house? I’ll be the perfect housewife for my lovely little breadwinner.”

Dillon shoved him into her room. “It would not, and I’m not your anything. We have a contract, and we’re roommates with benefits, that’s it.”

Her dismissal almost stung. Almost, because when he quickly blinked the disappointment from his eyes and turned to face her, she was red from her shoulders to her ears. “Oh, come now, at least admit you like me a little bit. Just a smidge. I ate a soul for you.”

“You ate a soul for you, and I don’t completely hate you,” she huffed, crawling under her blankets in a solid sulk.

“How romantic, I’m swooning.” He fluffed up his own nest of pillows and blankets on the trundle mattress. Zadimus extinguished the lights with a snap and ruffled his wings until he was comfortable. “Goodnight, wifey,” he simpered.

There was a muffled grumble from the mattress above. For a moment, he thought she wouldn’t respond at all, but just as his eyes were closing, he heard a soft, “Night, asshole.” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. She definitely liked him.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Tail: share a fluffy or cozy snippet.

Mannnnn there’s. Kind of a dearth of those at the mome— OH. OH. I KNOW. From chapter 3 of between a rock and a hard place:

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The next time we docked, they bought me an envirosuit. It was the first item of clothing anyone ever bought for me, the first piece of new clothing that was given to me, and despite outgrowing it years ago, it’s still hanging in my closet. Stupid and sentimental, I know. It wasn’t the most expensive suit on the market, but it was functional and safe and purple. It was even gift-wrapped. I remember the utter frustration on Dad’s face as I meticulously unwrapped the silver paper and folded each piece carefully in my lap, then tucked it all away in the toolbag — a spare Dad found in a storage locker — that I carried everywhere.

I kept that bundle, too; the paper has gone fabric-soft and fragile from years tucked away in the safety of the front-middle pocket.

When the contents were at last revealed, Dad checked his helmet for cracks from the ear-splitting screech of delight I wasn’t entirely sure came from me. I ran laps around the bench in the middle of the busy spaceport, screaming like I’d won the lottery, and my parents laughed with me, not a care in the world that people were staring. Mom helped me put it on over my clothes and I ran around some more, twirling around Dad as if they’d given me a ballgown.

Of course, that suit also meant getting spaced. Often — though, really, spacing a child once is excessive, but who would call Child Protective Services all the way out in deep space? Besides, my parents were at least somewhat smart about it. They put the ships on autodrift, Dad followed me out the airlock on a tether, and pushed me through the gap to Mom. She caught me and brought me inside, and everything was hunky-dory. I’d do my tinkering with the Galatea’s engine, have a nice meal, maybe spend the night cycle, and then they’d do the same thing to return me to the Merkava. It was exhilarating. Sure, tossing a child back and forth in the icy, black vacuum of space to crawl around in heavy machinery for a few hours wouldn’t make the cover of Galactic Parenting, but it wasn’t like they forced me to do it. I liked helping. Dad couldn’t get around like he used to or fit into nooks and crannies like me, and Mom didn’t know jack-shit about engine maintenance. In a few months, I knew more about both ships than either of them, and then some.

It also gave Dad and I common ground to bond over. I still wasn’t the best at conversation — Mom said it was selective mutism, according to one of her interspecies parenting books — and I knew the separation wasn’t exactly easy on Dad. He slept in the cockpit with me most nights just so he wouldn’t have to be alone. Neither of us slept more than an hour or two at a time, kept awake by old memories and nightmares. He listened to audio versions of parenting books while we were in FTL and had nothing better to do. Most of them weren’t worth the credits they cost; not that it mattered, anyway — Janus snatched them from open directories on the extranet.

My parents bounced the content off each other in their vidcalls. They agreed on some of it and laughed off the rest, then got quiet for a while, then cut the feed abruptly. It was obvious to anyone with eyes the distance was difficult for both of them. As a result, Dad and I managed to form a decent relationship. He was never close to the boys because of how often work pulled him away while they were younger, and Mom seemed happy he finally had some kind of connection with at least one kid, adopted or not. The closer we became, the better we both slept, at peace knowing the other was still breathing in the adjacent chair. Mom had to start spamming the commlink to wake us during the day cycle — the sleep debt had caught up to us, and we had years of interest to pay off.

Mom and Dad started taking us shopping as a family instead of leaving us to our own devices, and Dad and I had adventures on the ship.

Mom told me later how when they met, he’d spin wild tales that made her laugh until she was dizzy and breathless, but over the years he’d gotten so caught up in the day-to-day bullshit, the stories were fewer and far-between until they faded into nothing more than rose-tinted memories of a time when her smile still met her amethyst eyes, before they were dulled with exhaustion.

He would be the pirate king to my pirate princess; we would fight through holos of undead hordes and execute would-be mutineers. We did battle with great beasts of forgotten realms I could almost see when he wove their legends in a tapestry of hushed tones — so they wouldn’t hear us before we could sneak up behind them with our wrench-swords, you see — so full of awe it made my heart race. We plundered merchant vessels fat with treasure and fortunes too vast for even our imaginations to fully grasp, and explored untouched, uncharted worlds full of strange creatures and ancient curses. We made blanket-fort vid theaters in the cabin he no longer used. He taught me how to play Skyllian five, how to cheat at Skyllian Five, and how to be a very sore loser at Skyllian Five.

We even tried to shoot a cooking show once, but that ended in a complete disaster that took four hours to clean and permanently scarred the kitchenette. I learned swears that day in the surprisingly long list of languages Dad spoke at least conversationally, and was told to never repeat them (or tell Mom I learned them in the first place). He taught me how to disassemble, clean, and reassemble every gun he owned.

He taught me how to fly.

Dad figured if I knew how the engine worked, it was about time I learned how the rest of the damn thing worked, too. The next time I sat in his lap while he flew, his hands stayed at his side as I guided us along a course he charted.

In two short years, I gained a family and a best friend the cruelty of Omega could never take away.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[fknmoonmoon]

Derby Day

Pairing: Jake Seresin x reader

Summary: just a soft cozy Jake drabble, reader wakes up wicked early and disturbs his beauty sleep 

________________________________________

“It is five in the morning.” Jake squints in the glow of the television.

Your coffee cup is frozen halfway between the coffee table and your mouth, lips still pursed for a sip. “Sorry.” You swear you tried to keep the volume down, but soccer commentators are… enthusiastic.

Jake runs a hand over his face, through his hair. “Babe,” he grunts. “Why?”

“You watched the Super Bowl in the middle of the night in Japan.”

His shoulders fall in defeat. “It’s Saturday,” he grumbles, turning down the hall to shuffle back to the bedroom. Like he’s never kept you up til one A.M. on a weekday watching Texas play a bowl game. Watching Texas lose a bowl game, you smirk, finishing your sip of coffee. Part of what drew the two of you together in the first place was your borderline fanatical devotion to your respective sports teams. It’s not your fault yours happen to be on the other side of the world.

Jake returns, duvet slung over his shoulder. You shift to the far side of the couch to make room for him to stretch out, lay his head in your lap. His grumbly grunts as he gets comfortable are adorable, but the noise he makes when you push your fingers through his hair is a little sinful. 

“Good?” You get another grunt in response. He mellows out, relaxes into your touch, breathing slow and steady all bundled into his blanket and you. He’s soft and cozy and warm in your lap, absolutely made for cold mornings spent watching your team disappoint you.

“Are you winning?” You could have sworn he’d fallen asleep.

“Mm hmm. We’re gonna lose though. Defense is shit without Dias.”

He hums in response, wedges his head further into the angle between your legs and your tummy. “This couch sucks.”

“Go back to bed,” you laugh. “You hate soccer, anyway.”

“S’cold in there without you.” He tucks a hand under your thigh, squeezing lazily. “’n I don’t hate it, I just don’t get it.” Not for lack of trying on your part, you think.  “But you love it, so…” He sighs, voice trailing off.

“And you get head scratches if you watch with me.” You tug a little at his hair, smiling at the goosebumps that rise up on his neck.

“And I get head scratches if I watch with you,” he agrees, squeezing your leg again. “But let’s go buy a new couch today.”

[dragon-chica]

Wednesday Holiday Preference

Fandom: Wednesday

To everyone who does or does not celebrate, may you have a gentle holiday. And happy Yule ;)

Wednesday Addams: She fondly regales childhood christmases of pouring water on relentless carolers and stoking the fireplace with Pugsley to surely burn 'Old Saint Nick.', Wednesday also enjoys Old World christmas tales, specifically Krampus but tells you about many of the 'lesser known' stories and beings. Her family keeps up with the Victorian tradition of ghost stories for the holiday too.

Enid Sinclair: Super excited! She loves how pretty everything looks and all the beautiful lights! The winter months and all the cute dates to go on, such aesthetic cozy hot chocolate cafe dates watching the snow fall, ice skating, walking by the frozen lake, decorating and festive candles! So many 'cute' "ugly sweaters". She loves all of it and her instagram shows. It's also the best weather for cuddling up with you to stay warm and watch the snow fall.

Ajax Petropolus: He got you a gift months in advance when he was out with you and found the perfect thing, brags to Xavier for weeks how good he is at gift giving. You're gonna love it. 3 days before it occurs to him that he had no gift for you. PANICS texting Xavier that he forgot and is fully bundled about to trek to Jericho on foot in the snow before Xav (a real bro) walks into his closet and brings out the gift,

Xavier Thorpe: Holiday break has always been extra depressing for Xavier, a big empty house and not even an apology in the text that his father wont make it. The thought of being able to spend a time that everyone says is so filled with warmth and joy with you, has him giddier than he knows what to do with.

He really likes going for walks and is captivating staring at you in light snow. Pull him into the snow and get him to make snow angels, he hasn't done that since he was small and is in a fit of joy. Stick a snowball down his jacket After you've both been chilled to the bone go inside to watch some christmas movies, any you want (like Krampus or Elf) and snuggle under a blanket with some hot chocolate. You like baking sugar cookies and having him The Artist decorate them all.

Kent the Siren: Snowball fights! As soon as the first snow starts to cover the ground, Kent has dug out his winter gear and shows up at your dorm with and extra scarf and hat ready to drag you outside. He will not hold back either, but if you act hurt or sad he will come to apologize for the snowball and you ambush him. Never sees it coming. Also snowmen!

Bianca Barclay: She is one of those people that goes berserk buying presents, will have a list of what to get everyone in advance, "You don't even really like Wednesday though?" Bianca, checking her list: "So?" She will weather the worst holiday shopping rush and come out on top (will Siren Song someone into dropping the item she wants or throw hands if needed), somehow she never loses you in the stores even when you're lost, and you go out to a warm cafe afterwards like she didn't have a military scale gift operation before.

Tyler Galpin: Between his job and his dad's tight leash, he doesn't have much free time for cute winter dates, but after work he likes to look at the decorations and shop displays while he walks you home. (If something catches your eye he comes back to buy it as soon as he can.) Weathervane doesn't have a lot of Holiday Specials but he gives you 'complimentary' ones to try and experiments trying to make you little festive drinks when it's slow.

[thepaperpanda]

An Icy Adventure || Steven Grant x fem!reader

Masterlist ❄

Summary: One winter day, you decide to surprise Steven with a little ice skating lesson

Warnings: none

Word count: 1592

Author: Rouge

A/N: today’s prompt: go ice skating on a frozen lake

You loved winter. There was something crystalline about winter, those brilliant rays that revealed every snowflake's uniqueness. You were surrounded by puddles that became temporary skating rinks and your thoughts were secluded within your favorite woolen hat. There was anticipation of the joys to come in that wonderland of white, in that frozen water-world, of learning new ways to move gracefully over such a landscape. 

When Steven agreed to stroll in Hyde Park, to the Serpentine, you felt overwhelmed with happiness.

You chose a thick, woolen sweater with a reindeer theme, a fitted, black, strapped shirt beneath it, and thick, high-waisted jeans for your date. Black leather, high-heeled winter boots, a thick, brown jacket on top and your favorite black, woolen hat with a fluffy pompon completed your outfit.

Steven looked around at all the snow that had fallen last night. Although it wasn't much, it gave the place a certain winter charm. Despite the cold, it wasn't that bad for him, especially when he was you. "Y/N!" He smiled and waved at you. "Isn't it pleasant to be all bundled up and cozy?"

After climbing your tiptoes, you told Steven, "Yes, I am," and placed a brief kiss on his cheek; Steven was taller than you. Immediately after, you grabbed his gloved hand - you had gifted him with a pair of woolen gloves made of Egyptian cotton with a floral motif that he wore a lot when the temperature dropped below 5°.

Trying to cover your ears with your hat, he worriedly inquired, "You sure you aren't cold? I don't want you to catch a cold.

"Steven, you are being silly. It's not that cold today, and we're going to move a lot," you replied, pointing at a backpack on your back. "I brought some things that might help us though. I also made you a tea, I have it in a thermal mug inside."

He smiled and kissed your gloved hand, saying, "You are my little angel. Nevertheless, I am worried about you."

Due to your flat's proximity to Hyde Park, the stroll was quick and easy. "Wondering what activity I've chosen for us?" A smirk spread across your lips.

A soft shrug was given by Steven as he chuckled. "Although I am sure it is wonderful, I'm a little wary of your idea due to your eagerness."

While walking past the snow-covered bench, you stopped, put your backpack on it, and slowly unzipped it, letting Steven peek inside. In the backpack, there were two pairs of skates. One pair was white and larger, and the other was black, shorter.

The two pairs of pretty skates made him blink; of course you mentioned your little hobby in the beginning of your relationship, but he felt lost now. "Love, those are beautiful, but are you going to invite someone else? I mean, I see two pairs. You skate, but I don't." Seeing your smiling face, Steven paused. So that's what you were planning. "I love you a lot, Y/N, but I can't skate. I prefer my limbs to remain intact."

As you cupped his face in your gloved hands and rubbed his cheeks with your thumbs, you said, "I know you're a little concerned, but I want you to trust me, nothing will happen to you, and we'll have a great time!"

"I can't even tie those bloody skates right," he shook his head, looking at you. "In all honesty, I'd rather just watch you."

"Let's make a deal: I'll skate first, and you'll watch. I'll show you a few steps, and if you feel okay, you can try as well."

"I like the sound of that,” Steven agreed.

"Despite the fact that skating on ice seems intimidating, if you have the right equipment and a little patience, you can learn how to do it!" You told Steven as you led him to the frozen lake. 

On the frozen surface of the lake, several people were already ice skating.

Playing with his hands, Steven questioned, "Aren't you afraid the ice will break? Or that you'll break a leg or an arm?"

On the edge of the frozen lake, you sat in the snow, you pulled out the black skates; after that, you started putting them on, replacing your winter boots with them. "No, Steven, because if I thought negatively, I would draw bad luck. That's why I think positively," you replied. "There were almost three weeks of bitter cold, don't you remember? The ice is thick enough to support the weight of a very well-built man."

In response, Steven nodded and continued to play with his hands. "Yeah, yea, I bet you're right, luv."

His attention was drawn to the way you tied your skates. He mumbled a quiet 'bloody hell' and then sat next to you. In a nervous giggle, Steven pointed at the skates and asked, "Can you help me with those? Kind of like Cinderella..."

Disbelief filled your eyes - you never expected him to actually try ice skating with you! As you reached into your backpack to retrieve the other pair of skates, a quiet giggle escaped your lips. "You will be my Cinderella, and I will be your Prince Charming. So, my lady, please take off the shoes and put them on. Once you are done, please let me know and I will lace them up for you."

Steven removed his shoes and took skates from you to put them on with blush on his face.

When he nodded at you, indicating he was ready, you knelt down and started lacing the skates. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just a little stressed, but I'm fine overall."

"Do you remember what I told you about stress?"

While you helped him get up, Steven murmured, "I know it's bad and I shouldn't let it eat me alive, but you know me. Wow! How do you even walk in those?"

As a first step, you showed him how to fall safely. During your presentation, you told him, "Falling is part of the sport, so it's natural to fall. If you fall with the right technique, you won't get injured. When you anticipate needing to fall, bend your knees and squat into a dip position, then fall sideways, leaning forward, and place your hands on your lap. When you fall, roll over onto your hands and knees."

Steven watched and listened, trying to remember everything you said. Maybe Marc could use a bit of the know-how to make their body a bit less bruised after another chance behind the wheel. "Okay, noted. Let's hope I won't need them, but I'll keep them in mind. So... Uhm... Shall we?" Grant asked, taking your hand.

When he took his first step on the ice, you helped stabilize him while holding strongly to his palms. You grabbed his hips as soon as his leg started sliding forward. He soon added a second leg and grabbed your shoulders, holding them rigidly. "Straighten your back, breathe," you instructed.

Following your instructions, Steven nodded, somehow managing to stand straight. "Look at me! I'm still standing."

A lot of praise was given to him and then you instructed him on how to move on ice. "March two steps forward and let your body glide forward slightly. Repeat until you feel comfortable. This is called gliding."

As he complied with your instructions, Steven said quietly to himself, "Two steps... Let your body glide." Upon realizing he wasn't falling on his butt yet, he chuckled. "Look at me! I'm doing it!"

"Congratulations! My good boy!"

Sadly, Steven's happiness lasted only a short while because as soon as you finished your praise, he fell right on his butt.

You couldn't stop giggling, but as soon as you attempted camel spin by spinning one leg and your upper body parallel to the ice - you lost your balance and fell on your ass as well. "Oh, bollocks!"

As Steven struggled to get up slowly, he exclaimed, "Aha?! You see? That's what you get for laughing at me?! I bet it will hurt tomorrow."

After the unfortunate fall, you felt a burning sensation on your tailbone, but your heart was full of joy - Steven was getting the basics in no time and was doing very well for his first time on ice. "It's almost certain to me that the student will surpass the master soon, my dearest love!" You sent Steven the warmest smile while slowly getting up.

A shy smile danced on Steven's lips as the blush crept over his cheeks, turning them red within a blink of an eye. "Oh, love, no, this will never happen, I assure."

Slowly, you glided towards him and wrapped your arms around his neck. "My love for you will never change, Steven Grant, even if you won't become a figure skater."

Steven tilted his head and took one of his gloves off, tapping your nose gently before saying, "And I love you just as much, Y/N, even if you always select dangerous activities for our spare time."

As the two of you shared a passionate kiss, you gently pushed off Steven, loosened your knees just a bit, glided backwards and slowly started to spin, spreading your arms slowly.

He could only glide forward slowly, just as you taught him while observing you; all of your movements were so gently and weighted, and you were moving lightly like a petal of a rose dancing in the wind.

Steven realized at this exact moment that his love for you was immeasurable.

[scarlettriot]

❄️ Keeping Warm ❄️

• Pairing: Kirishima & Devyn @bakudarling & Bakugo

• Warnings: SMUT | Minors & Ageless Blogs DNI. Aged Up Characters ((late 20s)) Dom/Sub Dynamics. Throat Grab. Drinking. Some Spit.

• Contains: Dom Kiri. Switch Baku. Oral ((M Receiving)). Cockwarming ((In Secret)). Size Difference. Praise. Very Light Deg. Nicknames Used: Babe, Baby, Cutie, Love, Good Girl & Slut.

• A/N: This fic is a part of my Winter Writing Event, specially written for @/bakudarling! I cannot thank you enough for partaking in the event, Dev! I really hope you love your Holi-Date with Ei & Kat. The event is still ongoing so if anyone else would like to participate, just follow the link.

• Word Count: 2,200ish

Katsuki had been looking forward to this vacation with the two of you for months! He stared at the dates on his calendar frequently. The little cabin on the lake during the off-season sounded perfect to him. There wouldn’t be tourists around; he could just sit in the nice, warm living room and admire the beautiful views, wrapped up in a cozy blanket with the two people he loved most in the world. 

And everything was going so well too. Eijiro drove and made damn good time despite the freshly fallen snow. Katsuki made delicious snacks for the drive. And you put on a playlist that had the three of you singing practically the whole way. 

The cabin was perfect, exactly as described in the listing he saw. The three of you got all the bags inside just as night settled in, and the snow and wind really decided to pick up. A small bead of worry grew in your husband’s chest when he looked up at the clouds turning from fluffy white to a dull gray. He shook the feeling off though. The cabin was safe and warm; even if the weather did take a turn, you’d all be fine. 

Of course, what he hadn’t accounted for was the power going out several hours later…

“Are you kidding me!” He howled louder than the wind outside while he was in the middle of putting away dishes from dinner. 

“Just give it a second, babe. Maybe it’ll come right back?” You tried to remain optimistic, but one minute passed, then two, pretty soon ten, and still no sign of it returning. 

Eijiro put a hand on his husband’s back and set the towel he’d been drying dishes with down on the counter. “I keep that little generator in the back of the jeep. We can bring in that heater on the patio–” 

“Oh! And we can build a fire! They had chopped wood by the front door!” 

“Great idea, baby!” 

You started to bundle up, but Eijiro was having no part of it. “I’ll get the generator and firewood,” He kissed your forehead, “Why don’t you go get blankets and pillows? We can make ourselves a little fort?”

“See Kat, ‘s not so bad.” Eijiro chuckled and leaned back on his elbows since sitting up straight in the fort that had been constructed wasn’t an option for the mountain of a man. 

“Kinda romantic with all the candles you lit.” You kissed Katsuki’s cheek, but he just grumbled and wrapped one of the many blankets he’d accumulated around himself even more. 

“It’s not gonna be romantic when we all end up frozen!” 

You’d made it through two rounds of Candy Land with your husbands and many games of Love Letter that somehow Katsuki always managed to win. They were two of the few games you found tucked away in the lake house. In the time you played though, the temperature had only continued to drop, and Katsuki kept getting colder and colder. 

He had three blankets to himself and was reaching for a fourth. Two over his lap, one over his shoulders. You were pretty sure he was gonna wrap this one around his head. 

“Where you goin’?” Katsuki tracked Eijiro with his eyes while the redhead clambered awkwardly out of the fort. “You’re like our main source of warmth!” 

“Then cuddle our wife if you’re so scared of freezing!” 

Both of you lost sight of where Eijiro went, but his suggestion was still a good one. Katsuki’s freed his arms from the blanket long enough to grab you and bundle you right up with him. He was sure there’d be whining from Eijiro when he came back, but for the time being, he didn’t care one bit. “So warm…” 

He nuzzled into the crook of your neck while his hands ventured under your shirt, making you jolt at the cold contact. He pressed warm kisses just under your ear and cupped your breasts like his own personal hand warmers, but it only made you wiggle and squirm even more. “If you keep movin’ around my lap like that, you’re gonna end up warming something else f’me.” 

That didn’t exactly deter you though. You just wiggled with more purpose now. “Damn it, Dev, ‘m not kiddin’.” 

“I know you’re not,” You giggled right back, and that was more than enough for him. 

He worked his hands down your body, hooking his thumbs into the band of your leggings and panties all in one go, and yanked them down, and next came his own pants. 

“Oh, fuck–” You hummed contently when he slid his length inside you, keeping you seated perfectly in his lap while he wrapped the blankets around you again. “Think Ei’s gonna know?” 

“Not if you stay quiet.” But he sure as hell wasn’t gonna make that easy for you. Not right now, at least. 

He was rolling his hips every chance he got. One of his hands snaked up your body until he had his fingers wrapped around your neck. “You can be my good little slut and stay quiet, can’t ya?” You whined and nodded your head, already rocking your hips back against him, making him smirk against your warm skin. “Atta girl.” 

The only thing that drew your attention away from what Katsuki was doing with you was the delicious smell of hot cocoa as it flooded the air, the aroma quickly making its way into the fort.  

“How the hell did he–?” Katsuki was about to poke his head out when Eijiro reappeared with three steaming mugs in hand and the proudest grin on his face. 

“To help keep the cold away,” He chuckled and passed each of you a mug with a kiss to the top of your head before settling back in the spot he claimed with his own steaming mug. 

“How?” Katuski asked before even taking a sip. 

“I didn’t just have the generator. I also had that little stove from our stakeout a couple weeks back. Plugged it in and,” He made a fancy flourish around his cup. 

You took a drink through the layer of marshmallows he put on top and tasted the chocolatey liquid, eyes going wide when the sweet liquor hit your tongue. “Babe! It’s so good!” The excited little bounce you gave made Katsuki groan. 

“That mean you like it too, Kat?” He quirked a brow and tipped his cup back again. 

“Yeah, ‘s okay.” 

Eijiro shrugged because he knew that was about the highest praise he could receive from the blonde when it came to cooking something and started to set up the game board for another round.

Of course, this game had to be the most challenging yet. The whole time, Katsuki had to stretch around you to make his moves, pushing his cock further into you. There were times you swore you bit your tongue hard enough for it to bleed just to keep a moan from spilling over. 

It took Eijiro until the game was nearly over to question what could’ve been going on. 

“Hey man, why don’t you lose one of the blankets? Dev’s face is looking all rosy.” 

You didn’t even need to look to know Katsuki started smirking like a damn cat. “That so?” He bucked his hips, and this time, you couldn’t hide the little moan. Eijiro’s garnet eyes went wide, and you got to watch as the realization hit him, and a smirk settled over his face too. 

“Awe, our perfect little wife really is keepin’ you nice and warm, huh, babe?”

“Gods, Ei, she’s doin’ such a good job…” He trails off now that the facade is shattered and he can really move inside your walls. 

Eijiro takes his time and moves the game out of the way, not wanting to lose any of the pieces (or have someone step on one). He watched as the blankets start to roll off Katsuki. The man reached a hand up and dismantled the fort so he could have you on your hands and knees and fuck you properly, all while Eijiro lowered his shorts. His heavy cock rested against his stomach before he lazily started to stroke it. 

“What about me, cutie? Can you keep me nice and warm too? With your mouth?” He beckoned you forward with a finger and groaned when you licked him from base to tip. “Shit, baby–” Your hand replaced his own, so much smaller, not even able to wrap completely around his thickest part. Sharp teeth dug into his lower lip as he watched your mouth open and stretch just to take him in and it took everything he had not to bridge his hips and push all the way in, all at once. 

Katsuki’s pace picked up, holding onto your hips and thrusting into you enough that with each rut of his hips, you took a little more of Eijiro down your throat. You felt his hand settle atop your head, threading the purple strands through his fingers, tugging you lightly back and forth while his head tipped back in sheer pleasure. 

A glob of spit trailed down your ass, and Katsuki only pulled himself free long enough to catch it with the tip of his weeping cock and add it to the mess that was becoming your cunt. He couldn’t get over the way your hole would flex, wanting him stuffed back inside so badly. 

When he did slide home again, he reached around to your lower belly and pressed down, making you try and cry out at the added pressure, but Eijiro’s cock was too far down your throat for the noise to really escape. That didn’t stop fat tears from rolling down your cheeks though. 

“What’s the matter, cutie? Too much?” Eijiro cooed and swiped away your tears while you shook your head with your mouth still full. “Such a good cock slut.” You could see his pupils blown wide just before he pushed you down on his length. “Gonna lemme fill your cunt up next, baby? Or does Kat need a load so he can quit bitchin’ about bein' cold?” 

He leaned forward and grabbed Katsuki by his chin. “Whatcha say, pretty boy?” The blonde's thrusts got a little less erratic, but you felt his cock starting to throb in your heat. “Lemme fuck you while you clean your cum outta our wife, get her nice and ready for me?” 

“Hell yes, Ei.” He breathed after a moment. You always grinned just a little when Katsuki gave in to what you and Eijiro wanted, which was honestly more often than not, but it never got old. 

You started fucking back on Katsuki, using his cock, until you felt Eijiro’s hand leave your hair and move lower. Calloused fingers went right for your clit. “That’s it, pretty girl. Gonna make him cum like that. Want both of you t’cum f’me.” He urged you on, and you could feel Katsuki’s grip on you getting tighter and tighter, bruising your hips until little sparks left his palms, singeing your skin right up until you felt that first wave of cum fill you. 

Mixed with Eijiro’s fingers and Katsuki’s twitching cock, you finished with a choked sob, mouth still full. Eijiro waited for you to start coming down again before returning his hands to your hair. “Ready for me, cutie?” You nodded, and he held your head still between strong hands, fucking up into you over and over until you had cum shooting down your throat, leaking out around both their cocks now. 

He slipped his cock from your mouth just as Katsuki collapsed onto your back, arms winding around you, which left you to wrap yours right around Eijiro. 

“Alright,” He laughed at the way the two of you tuckered out and was happy to put plans on hold, “Naps first.” 

Eijiro’s hands moved slowly, brushing through Katsuki’s soft hair and tracing the ivy of your tattoo until he too, fell asleep.

As the three of you slept, the storm finally calmed down. A fresh blanket of white snow covered every inch of the landscape. 

Light had just barely begun to show for the day, the world still cast in a blue haze, but you woke up to the sound of electricity coming back on, the whir of the furnace springing to life. Somehow, you managed to wiggle out from between the two men and walked out onto the enclosed patio with a blanket wrapped around you. 

The cabin had the most beautiful view of the frozen-over lake and the verdant trees with their snowy pillows. It was more than enough to take your breath away. 

You felt a pair of arms encircling you just a few minutes later, and, from the scars that covered their hands and arms, you knew it was Eijiro before he hooked his chin over your shoulder, kissing your cheek and whispering his usual rough, “Mornin’, love.” 

There was another pair of red eyes on you though, leaning against the doorway, taking in the scene before him that made his heart swell. He would’ve stood there for hours, watching Eijiro and you hold each other close, but when you turned your head and held out your hand with wiggling fingers wanting him to join too, it was impossible to resist. 

Coffee and breakfast and the whole rest of the day could wait. He was going to enjoy this beautiful view, wrapped up in a cozy blanket, with the two people he loves most in the whole world. 

[leviathans-watching]

i saw ur fic of satan seeing snow in the human world, omg it was so cute i love it, especially when my area just got snow for the first time this year today, perfect timing lol

can we see the rest of the brothers and dateables reactions? luke too pls (platonic obvs)

- 🐸 anon

the obey me boys & snow

includes: the brothers (-satan), diavolo, simeon x gn!reader | luke & gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned)

wc: .7k | rated g | m.list

a/n: based off of this post lol. and tysm!! i'm glad you liked it and that it was good timing!! my inbox is open to chat, req, or leave feedback so stop in!!

please reblog mwah

➳ lucifer likes watching it fall from inside, though he’s not a huge fan of the cold. he’s seen snow before, is one of the only brothers who has, but never has he taken any time to marvel at it, simply enjoy it because it’s snow. you change that- you’re still delighted by at, even though you’ve seen it before, and your excitement sparks something in him. he likes it because it makes you happy.

➳ mammon does not like it. he’s not a huge fan of any extreme weather, really, and he’s always been more of an inside demon. but he’ll brave it for you, accompanying you outside without a second thought. he’d do anything for you, really, so in the grand scheme of things, snow isn’t that bad, especially when he gets to be with you.

➳ levi has seen it on tv tons of times, so he’s a bit surprised when it’s not falling idyllically, in bug white fluffy flakes. you explain it does sometimes, but not all of the time, satisfying him. he thinks it tickles, and really enjoys himself, much to your amusement. he doesn’t get cold so he has no need for a coat, and he likes watching the frozen water melt when it makes content with his warm skin. he also likes how you cuddle up to him when you get back inside, saying you were cold.

➳ asmo loves it! it’s so cute and pretty and would look so good in his photography. you look so cute too, all bundled up in your winter gear, face nearly hidden due to a large scarf he pulls aside more than once, pecking you quickly on the lips. he’s quickly set on a wintery devilgram post, only becoming more and more delighted when you tell him about ice skating and sledding.

➳ beel is surprisingly into it. he wants to explore the snow and walk around, interested in the way his breath is visible in the air. he breaks off a large icicle easily, biting into it before you can stop him. although he’s a bit disappointed it doesn’t taste like anything the texture is pretty nice. he continues to pull them off of fences and branches, crunching on them like hard candy.

➳ belphie is another one who likes it from inside. he doesn’t like to be cold but can’t deny how cozy he feels by the roaring fire, all wrapped up in a blanket with you, watching it stick to the windowsills. you explain frost to him, and idly, he wonders that if he waited long enough, could he see it forming? he pulls you closer as he watches the trees outside shake in the wind, happy to be experiencing this with you.

➳ simeon has seen snow, once, in one of the other angel's domain. it’s been a terribly long time, and he’d almost forgotten about it, but you’re there to remind him. he loves it. his favorite season quickly changes to winter and he wants to go out and buy a bunch of winter-themed stuff. being outside in it is even better, to be honest, and he adores how the flakes drift so gently onto your shoulders.

➳ diavolo is enraptured by it. he spins around and around, acting so boyish you can’t help but laugh, fondness welling up in your chest. his mind is already racing, trying to figure out a way to get snow in the devildom, but even as he schemes and plans, he knows it won’t be the same. after all, you won’t be there.

➳ luke is enchanted. he’s never seen snow before and it’s amazing! and when he learns you can make snowmen, he starts tugging you outside, drooping when he learns there’s not enough snow on the ground for that. to cheer him up, you tell him about snow angels, and he all but beams. there’s something named after him, something that’s super cool, meaning he must be cooler. cooler than snow? is that even possible??

leviathans-watching’s work - please do not repost, copy, or claim as your own

[distracteddegenerate]

I'm sorry if this annoying but can I please get a little fanfic with the inumaki forget idea ? Sorry if this werd English isn't my first languag

Not annoying at all anon, In fact I really like this idea of yours. (Also your English is pretty good so don’t worry!) Hope you like the fic!

CHARACTERS: Inumaki Toge x Female Reader

WARNINGS: Smut, Dark Content, Noncon, Yandere, Manipulation, Mind Control/ Brain Washing, Cunnilingus

Minors Do Not Interact! 

1.5k words

It was comforting, the fluff of ashen white hair that lay on your shoulder, the morning light seeping in from behind the slat blinds cascading a bright shimmer over the expanse of the snowy tufts. The individual strands were dusting your skin feather-light, tickling against you in the sway of every meager intake and exhalation of breath escaping Toge’s mouth.

You had known Toge for years now, and although you couldn’t truly remember how you even came to know him in the first place, he had effortlessly situated himself in the spot of one of your nearest and dearest. You found that his earnest silence brought you solace, words that he could not convey through sentence instead being understood through the knowing glances and expressions you had come to share with one another, the fluency of this mutual language only strengthening with the passage of time.

Now was one of those blissful moments of comfortable, knowing quiet. domestically lounging around your apartment during a day off, lazily giggling at some meme compilation in unison while leaning against one another on the settee. You couldn’t think of a better way to spend your time, this cozy sphere of amenity that you had constructed with Toge an apt repose from the outside world.

Whilst you were lost reflecting on your rosy blessings, you were suddenly brought back to reality when you felt the weight of toge’s head lift from your shoulder, turning to meet the familiar gaze of inquisitive violet eyes peering at you from behind off-white tresses.

“Are you okay, Toge?”

“Mustard Leaf.”

The response, that usually implied he was doing fine in the small dictionary of onigiri vocabulary he had come to employ.. Didn't feel genuine, to say the least. His irises were blown wide, registering your countenance as though he was trying to gleen some hidden information from your inquiring squint, when Toge began to lean further over you. You turned the front of your body to look at him directly, though you were steadily inclining your spine backwards in your perplexion at Toge’s unusual advancement.

He soon had draped his entire upper body over yours, hands reaching around your frame to press into the sofa to support himself as his face drew dangerously close to yours.

“Toge?” A heat was rising in your upper body. Sure, you and Toge were incredibly close friends.. But this was a little too much for your liking. You pressed your palms against the jut of his shoulders and pushed slightly, though with no true force. Blushing, you faced away from him, trying to announce your discomfort at his invasive approach. “T-toge.. This is a bit too-”

“Don’t move.”

And sure enough, compelled by some otherworldly force to entertain the command, you had stopped moving in your tracks. It didn’t take long for you to figure Toge had used his technique. Like a deer trapped in the headlights of an oncoming car, your body froze statuesque while conflicting eyes beamed alive, frantically searching for the reasoning behind the cruel fate that was racing towards you.

An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of your stomach at the sight of his lips pulled tight, his usually bright irises murky with shadows of deception. Something awful was afoot. His deadpan look in conjunction with the preceding events told you this was no prank, swiftly realising that your trust in him had been irredeemably breached to the point of fear at what was coming next. Your body twitched as you strained under the spell that had been cast on you, helpless to the plummeting feeling of the safe structure of friendship you had built with Toge coming crumbling down around you.

Your fears were proven genuine when Toge’s hand began reaching forward, coming to rest on the curve of your hip. You tried to communicate with your eyes, begging for him to stop and to just think about what he was doing, but he paid no heed to it. In fact it seemed like he was ignoring your glare, focused on the task that lay at his palms. He began deftly inching your bottoms down over your pelvis, panties and all coming to a halt over your thighs, just above your kneecaps.

It was then that he shot you a glance of what seemed like sorrowfulness, as if he was fully aware he was enacting something cruel but thought it necessary. Perhaps like how a farmer would look at lame animal before putting it to rest. 

Still, you were broken away from the horrid thoughts and back into a harsher reality when Toge had begun ripping the aforementioned cloth even further down your legs until they reached your calves. Shoving his hands between your thighs, the pads of his fingers pressed forcefully against the flesh and separated the limbs till they spread wide. You were completely exposed, the open air cutting a chill against your privates.

He traced his fingertips over your slit, with whatever wet, however slight gathered up in it’s trailing wake. He looked you in your eyes when he brought the digits to your clit, as if looking for a reaction when he began grinding his forefingers against the sensitive nub. Unable to do so much as flinch away from the offensive touch, you mentally grit your teeth as you felt that aching bundle of nerves scream against the assault. It felt painful, at first. You were so unprepared for the sudden encroachment on your most sensitive parts, It made you want to recoil in on yourself completely, though there was nought you could do in protest.

Toge began occasionally lowering his fingers to reach directly into your core, drawing out the little slick you were producing to mercifully rub it over your clit. The lubrication meant his ministrations were less painfully direct, his motions transforming into a light flutter that felt traitorously gratifying, an unwarranted heat beginning to pool in your stomach. Your body was disobediently reacting to his touches with craving, and it made you want to hide away forever but unfortunately you were rendered completely unable to escape the explicit display you were being forced to partake in. 

You felt his warm breath exhale humid air over your cunt, when you noticed from your frozen position that you couldn’t see Toge’s face any more, only the top of his alpine locks as he lowered himself further over your pulsing heat.

You knew what was coming, but you still inwardly lurched with shock at the swiping of that lithe muscle over your aching bundle. The feeling made you throb with hypersensitivity, the combination of the attention that area had received earlier now with the sudden sensation of Toge’s wet mouth lapping at you desperately causing your entire pussy to twitch around his tongue in a chase for release.

Dragging and dipping his emblazoned tongue over and between your sopping folds, he came to plant his mouth directly over your clit. He sucked over it with such vigor his cheeks completely hollowed, rolling your nub between his lips whilst deft fingers aided in your pleasure as he continued to pump them in and out of the sticky apex of your crotch. 

He worked at you for some time, steady in the intensity of his applications. It wasn’t long before the sensations grew too much, pussy clenching around his fingers as you reached a climax, flood gates swinging open as you gushed helplessly over his face.

He stayed where he was for a second, before rising. When his pale face came into view, you took in the sight of your own slick washing trails down his chin, the purple tattoos it overlay on his cheek glistening prismatic in the light the sun cast over it. He looked wild, salivating at the maw, sparkling amethysts settling an intense gaze into your own eyes which were vacantly still trying to work through the thralls of your orgasm.

Yet, fear sparked them alert with dread when you saw his mouth drop open to speak once again.

“Forget.”

Even in that split second of recognition you had before your memories had been erased for (unbeknownst to you,) the umpteenth time, it was enough for an intensely visceral stream of consciousness to flood your thoughts. You realised intuitively Toge was never really the person you thought he was, and you wondered how many times you had been used like this. How much had happened, how much had you been subject to by his cursed technique. Just how much was real in that domestic setting that you had been experiencing before it all came crashing down like this.

***

If only you knew just how much of your true self had slipped away. With your hands wrapped around his cock once more, The sunset and rise beginning to melt away at the edges into a haze of warm gradients was just a pretty sight to you, the concept of time becoming irrelevant to you as you settled into your life as an ignorant hostage.

Extra Notes:

Yeah so this kinda became a fucked up version of 50 first dates.. although now that I think about it I guess 50 first dates is pretty fucked up? Also god writing a character who hardly speaks is so hard in fic format;; I guess enjoy the challenge though

[hqcult]

21ST ## the miya twins

you visit hyogo to celebrate your 21st birthday with your extended family. you met atsumu and osamu, who were oh so excited to meet you.

. tw manipulation, pseudo-incest, noncon, cunnilingus, masturbation, exhibitionism, voyeurism, mindbreak, implied double penetration, dark content . wc 4.3k

looking back, the twins are good fucking actors. they deserve some oscar-level award with how much they smiled those sweet honey smiles and lured you into a sense of security before baring their fangs and pulling you down to hell with them. but they never would’ve gotten the chance to act if you hadn’t been there as their audience. so, the truth remains the same—this is all your fault. you never should’ve insisted coming to hyōgo in the first place.

ever since getting adopted at the tender age of thirteen and moving to tokyo, you’ve seen everything there is to see, ate at every restaurant with a 5-star review on google. you’ve done them all at least thrice by now and it’s getting boring.

so, when your adoptive father had jokingly talked about coming to hyōgo to meet your extended family for your 21st birthday, you perked up in your seat and your eyes twinkled like stars. 

your mom didn’t want to go at first, of course, claiming you’ll get carsick but your parents eventually gave in after seeing the pleading look in your eyes and the genuine excitement in your stance.

long story short, you did end up getting carsick. quite a few times too, actually. but you were already driving along the expressway and your mom’s sister was already expecting the three of you. so, naturally, you guys pushed through, your dad making sure he drove as smoothly as possible in order not to trigger another barfing session from you.

it was twilight by the time your dad pulled up on his sister-in-law’s driveway and the first you see were two identical faces—twins? for step-cousins? well, now that was something. you’ve never really met twins before so it was a whole new experience and it excited you greatly. 

not to mention how you and atsumu instantly hit it off, your personalities aligning. yet when you sat next to osamu during dinner, the younger twin found it wasn’t as hard talking to you compared to his brother. in fact, he found it interesting how easy it was to converse with you, the words flowing out his lips. you were just so painfully compatible with them that why oh why did the universe have to make you their half-cousin?

the shift in their behavior wasn’t at all gradual but can you really blame them? you were such a good daughter, such a beauty. and they guess the whole ‘pseudo-incest’ taboo thing amplified your appeal all the more. 

well, at least in their defense, atsumu and osamu genuinely wanted to get to know their new cousin in the most innocent, platonic way and not this weird thing they’re feeling right now. but you were so damn irresistible that they couldn’t keep their feelings in check.

how kind of ‘samu to grab the coffee container at the topmost shelf for you during breakfast, not knowing he purposely puts it there every night so he can “accidentally” rub his morning wood against your ass.

your ‘tsumtsum is such an angel when he doesn’t hesitate to take off his outerwear and lends it to you whenever you forget yours, not knowing he snatches them from the laundry basket and leaving you no choice but to use his. the sweet scent you leave on the jacket is enough to throw him off the edge and have him climaxing as he fucked his own hand.

nobody noticed, everyone was distracted by their achievements at such a young age. all their mom had to say is how osamu yet again made it to dean’s lister or how atsumu got scouted for a national team.

your mom and dad didn’t notice, lost in the daydream of always wanting to have their own son only to end up with you. blinded of their dazzle that the rotten pieces of them were fully camouflaged by the glow.

it all came to a peak when the twins were pulling all-nighter playing games like always. 

atsumu needed to use the restroom, and just as he’s passing by your door, he heard a questionable sound that made him stop, frozen and unbelieving.

carefully, he tiptoes closer to place his ear against your door, praying to whomever that the floorboards don’t creak and disrupt whatever you’re doing. silence, seconds of it. then click, a switch turning on, he hears low vibration and a shaky whimper, a slick sound that reminded him of—

you were touching yourself.

holy fucking crap.

atsumu can only stare at the door with a knowing curl in his lips as he quickly pushes down his boxers. the risk of getting caught masturbating so out in the open making all the blood rush south.

“guess yer not as innocent as i thought ya were,” he mutters, spitting on his palm before wrapping it around his dick.

he shut his eyes close, clinging desperately into the imagination of how it would feel like to fuck your cunny instead of his hand. how the view would be like as he forces your legs up and into a mating press as he rutted his hips into you. at least you were loud, the moans he can hear as clear as day and he’s thankful he needn’t depend on his imagination anymore like all the other times.

you better be fucking thankful that the rest of the rooms were downstairs or else your parents and their mom would’ve heard by now. eh, atsumu didn’t mind. he got off on the risque idea of getting caught in the act.

when your pitch grows whinier and he hears your quick rufflings on the bed, he knows you’re close. he can hear the frantic and changing levels of the vibrator as you fucked it into your walls. 

“fuck,” he hissed, the mental image of you masturbating and putting on a show for him making him teeter over the edge.

he grunts, low and animalistic, as spurts of his cum stains his hands and the floor. he didn’t care. he pumped himself through his orgasm and it was the best he’s ever got in a while. who knew all he needed to hear was his little step-cousin lewdly touching herself? naughty, naughty girl.

when he heard your panting after cumming against your little toy, he took his cue and speed-walked towards his and osamu’s bedroom to get a cloth he’ll use to clean the front of your door. but just as he caught you in the act, he caught his own brother red-handed, too.

the tiny specks of cum on the wall where osamu stood is a ghastly sight but atsumu couldn’t care less. 

silently, the twins exchanged a knowing glance.

“ya heard ‘er too?”

someone knocks on your bedroom door on the eve of your birthday. 

osamu was tasked to wake you up while atsumu started the car. you didn’t respond. were you… he slowly opens the door, he spots you immediately in the bundle of blankets atop your bed. when he stalks closer, you looked so cozy that osamu almost got tempted to ditch the idiot and come snuggle with you under the blankets instead. 

but he has two heads and the one he’s using to think is located south.

he wakes you up with a gentle shake on the shoulder. “‘samu?” you mutter, voice low and croaky from your deep sleep when you see a blurry tousle of gray hair.

“let’s do a countdown for yer birthday, angel. come on, put on a jacket. ‘tsumu’s already startin’ up the car.”

osamu’s blunt nails dug half-moon crescents into his palms as he saw your tiny pajama shorts and the slip top when you shoved the blankets away. he swore his palms would’ve bled, especially after seeing you bending over to look for a hoodie inside your luggage. 

he stared so openly, it was almost predatory in a sense. 

as you scamper down the stairs with the younger twin’s hands dangerously grazing the top of your rear, you thought it’s plain old protective ‘samu being worried you’ll make a misstep and break your neck.

“where’s everybody?”

“just us three, angel. ‘lil cousin bonding before yer big party tonight, y’know?”

you giggled. how sweet, you thought.

you didn’t sense a thing. didn’t see a single red flag even if it was being waved across your face like what they do in bullfights. osamu felt a little sorry for how they’re blatantly manipulating you but it’s too late to back out now, much less let the guilt eat up his insides. he shouldn’t be a hypocrite considering he jacked off to your moans, too, that night. 

he’s really no different than atsumu and it’s a tough pill to swallow.

“shotgun!”

it wasn’t osamu that stops you, but atsumu, from scampering into the front seat. the older twin quickly locks the door before lowering down the passenger side’s window. 

“nuh-uh, birthday girl. ya can’t sit here or the surprise’ll be ruined!”

you grumble, frowning as you scoot yourself in the backseat of the car. atsumu twists his torso towards the back, asking you to wear the blindfold he’s handing you. it was a little tough with how stubborn you are but ‘tsumu’s just too good with his words.

you drove for thirty minutes before the car pulled up somewhere. the world is tranquil outside, so you couldn’t have driven to the nearest city. your initial guess is a beach, but there were no splashes of water. maybe a cliff-side or a forest?

the car’s ignition turns off and you call out to the twins. 

“‘tsumu? ‘samu? where are we? can i take my blindfold off now?”

“just a moment, doll.” there’s an excited lilt to atsumu’s voice and you can’t help but fidget in your seat, feeling the excitement crawling up your spine as you think of what their surprise could be.

you hear them clamber out the car. you scoot closer to the door just as the backseat opens, a silly smile on your face. “you guys didn’t have to do this, you know, but i appreciate it so mu—”

someone tackles you to the seat and the air gets knocked out of your lungs. he’s heavy and you felt the muscles underneath his shirt as you tried to push him away but to no avail—you know it’s a man, it has to be because you felt the broad shoulders and something poking at your thigh. you feel him nosing the side of your neck and his hands crawling under your shirt. his freezing skin against your own is what snapped you out of it.

“atsumu! osamu!” you cried, calling for help.

you inwardly gasped, realizing something. maybe they were hurt! maybe your assaulter had creeped up behind the twins just as they opened the door for you, knocked them out cold, before trying to have their way with you. at the thought of the twins getting hurt, you thrashed, fought, and screamed with newfound fervor.

“couldja calm down and shut yer fucking trap?”

when the blindfold flies away and you see the man straddling you on the backseat of atsumu’s car, how you wished your assaulter had never taken it off.

atsumu had never looked this scary from your point of view, then again he never straddled you like this in the weeks prior. never looked at you like how he’s looking now—there’s clear hunger and lust in those eyes. you’ve seen that look one too many times from boys back in your university when you had your one night stands. but it had all been consensual and you loved them looking at you that way but this is different.

so, so different.

you can’t look at him in the eye, not when he’s staring at you like that. it felt like you’re pushed into a corner, vulnerable and bare even with the clothes you’re wearing.

“please, get off of me.”

“get off ya?” he repeats, mirth in his eyes as he hauls you up to a sitting position. he finally shuts the door behind him. “but i’ve been wantin’ to do this for weeks.”

to further emphasize his point, he grounds his hips against yours, making sure the tip of his already erect cock grazes against the bud of your clit. his boxers and the thin fabric of your shorts isn’t helping. he groans wantonly, angling his hips to do it again until you slipped out from under him and maneuvered your way to the other door.

osamu! osamu will stop him, you thought with teary eyes as atsumu growls and quickly pulls you back by the forearms, your back to his chest as you try to claw your way out of the athlete’s grip.

“‘samu! ‘samu, help me!”

but when the said twin opens the door and slips inside the car with little to no surprise present in his face, a type of fear you’ve never felt before runs up your spine. the look in osamu’s eyes reflected that of his twin’s and with sinking realization, you knew he wasn’t there to help you.

“happy 21st birthday, angel.”

and then he’s ducking down to kiss you. his lips are soft and they moved tenderly, in contrast to the barbaric way they tore at your clothes, the cold making you shiver in your underwear.

dealing with one sick person is enough, but with two, you’re not so sure. you only had two hands, if you pushed osamu away, atsumu would have free access and vice versa. your legs couldn’t move either, thanks to the cramped space of the backseat.

while holding down your hands, atsumu marks every inch of untainted skin he could see as osamu swirls his tongue inside your mouth. you’ve never felt so disgusted and dirty, but above all, betrayed. even if it was a few weeks since you’ve met, you still saw them as family. sure, you weren’t technically blood-related but in the papers it’s a different story.

when osamu pulled away, you averted your eyes but his hand reached up to hold your chin, forcing your eyes to meet. you feel his other hand trailing up your thighs, fingers dangerously close to your clothed sex as he watched you like a fox. he wanted to commit this moment to memory. every twitch and small gasp you make as his cold fingers pinched at your clit and traced your pussy lips.

“staying quiet, princess?” atsumu comments, hands snaking around front to squeeze and grope your breasts over the bra you wore. “ya weren’t like this when i caught ya touchin’ yerself last week.”

your eyes widened. when you tried turning your head to look over your shoulder towards the other twin, osamu shoved two fingers inside you.

your reaction was immediate. the pleasure and pain mixing as a loud gasp escapes your lips. “eyes up front,” he murmurs, the firm hold on your chin going higher to encase your whole jaw.

“oi, ‘samu, didn’t think you’re the possessive type,” atsumu says, teasingly placing his chin on your shoulder as he smiles that lazy smile you know osamu hates. “not that i’m going to lose.”

the older twin slips your bra off just as osamu takes his fingers out to lewdly lick up your slick. he moans, keeping his eyes trained on your horrified face. “sweet. but not wet enough for us, angel.”

“what—no—!”

“let me have a go.”

before you could even react, atsumu’s spinning you around to face him as he shoves your shoulders down. due to the cramped space, your head collides with osamu’s thighs, narrowly missing the tent in his joggers. the weight in his thighs makes the younger twin fidget and squirm as he hastily reaches for your hand, pulling his bottoms down just enough for his cock to spring out. you wince when it hits the side of your face. osamu loved the disgust in your face when he spat at your hand and used it to get himself off as he started stroking his cock.

meanwhile, in one swift motion, atsumu is pulling your panties down and licking a stripe up your cunny, the tip of his tongue prodding at your clit as his hands come up to slap your pussy. “how dare ya be so quiet,” he hisses, sucking harsher on your clit to pull a reaction out of you. “let me hear ya whine and moan, babe. i’m fuckin’ sure as hell my tongue is better than some cheap ass vibrator ya used.”

but your lips are stubbornly sealed as you arched your back. like hell you’d play into their wants and sick fantasies. they were your cousins! forcing you to enjoy this is just downright wrong. and knowing they’ve eavesdropped and silently lusted over you while having those innocent little smiles on their faces… were they not in the least bit guilty for deceiving you? deceiving your parents?

“give ‘er somethin’ bigger. i think she’s askin’ for it.” osamu says, kneading one of your breasts and tweaking your nipples as he continued to pump himself using your hand. 

because he lost to rock paper scissors, he’s going to fuck you after atsumu and no matter how furious he was, a deal’s a deal.

like an idea switching inside his head, atsumu falters, staring right at you with sparkles in his eyes before his lips curled into a devious smirk.

“no, no, no,” you scramble, trying to sit up in order to push him away but osamu is quick to pin you down. “atsumu—no—you don’t want to do this, please—!”

“shut it, princess. i know what i want and that’s to fuck yer sweet little cunny right ‘ere,” he mocks by planting a sweet kiss against your lower lips.

“can ya stop with the dirty talk my dick’ll go soft, ya scrub!” osamu hisses, his hands wrapped around yours getting tighter as the lewd sounds of his slick gets louder. 

no matter how much osamu denies it, he’s getting off on seeing you squirming under atsumu and god he never thought to have a voyeurism kink but here we are.

atsumu shoves his boxers down and you turn away from glancing down at his cock, osamu had to ruthlessly pull your hair and make you look as you slowly start tearing up. he was bigger than most guys you’ve met in college and you dread the painful stretch it’ll take for him to shove that dick inside you.

“shh, princess. don’tcha worry, yer all prepped to take me.” he scissors your pussy lips, the sticky wetness creating lewd sounds before pushing his stained fingers into your mouth. “hear that? go on and taste yerself.”

he gave you no choice, fingers pushing your tongue down until you obliged to his wishes. from behind you, you hear a low grunt and a pant as osamu throws his head back. he was close, you could tell and you surely didn’t want your face to be near his cock once he cums.

“‘tsumu, god damn it! hurry and fuck ‘er already!”

osamu was close and his mind was clouded. he needed to see you get railed in order for him to teeter towards that delicious edge of pure ecstasy. needed to hear the noises like the ones you made that night.

“i got it, i got it. fuckin’ impatient bastard.”

“atsumu, stop—!”

but he doesn't bother to listen, pushing his cock deep all in a single thrust. you were right. the stretch slightly stings and you bet it would’ve hurt more had he not bothered to suck and lick at your pussy earlier. “it hurts,” you sob, trying to curl in on yourself while keeping atsumu from leaning in.

but your strength is no match for him as he peppers light kisses down your neck, osamu helping with pushing your hair away to expose more skin. “shh, shh,” the faux-blond coos. “it’ll get better, i promise ya. yer gonna love it so let me move, okay?”

“no, wait, take it out, wai—!”

he starts thrusting, timed and rhythmic as his hands reach under your thighs, slightly raising your lower body to meet the angle of his hips. you couldn’t deny that it felt good like he said. the heavenly drag of his dick inside your walls, feeling you squeeze around him just as he nearly pulls out, only to thrust it all back in again. he wanted to keep this “making love” pace as long as he wants but he’s getting irritated but how you still wanted to keep your pretty lips shut.

that’s when you truly felt the vehicle jolting back and forth, brought by the sudden way atsumu manically fucks you like some animal. the change of pace surprised you greatly, choking on your saliva and letting out a pornographic “ah!” as he started railing you in the backseat of his car. you were way past the point of no return as immense pleasure spiked your nerves. all thoughts of somehow fighting their advances being shot out the window.

“that’s it,” atsumu pants, swinging your legs up against your chest to fuck you even deeper. “come on, make some noise, princess. i want people to hear how good i make ya feel even if they’re miles away.”

after all this is over and the lustful haze they forced you under is gone, you’ll regret the way you moaned and groaned and whined like how you’re doing now. embarrassing, how even as atsumu leans closer to kiss you, you don’t push him away. a mess of saliva and sweat mixing as his pace doesn’t relent and the fierce jolts of the car only adds up to your pleasure.

“‘tsumu!” you screamed, one hand holding onto his hair and the other scratching at his back. “i’m close—shit!”

he replies with a moan of his own, drawn out and whiny, feeling your walls suffocating his cock as he continues to drive it in and out with a speed you’ve never experienced with your past rendezvous. perks of being an athlete, you guess. “don’tcha dare fuckin’ cum until i tell ya to or else.”

but that little devil is making it harder for you to obey him as one of his hands snakes in between your bodies to start toying with your clit, drawing firm circles and figure 8’s to draw in that eventual release. “no, no, ‘tsumu don’t!” you tried reaching down but his hand only tugs it back, firmly holding your wrist as he continues his ministrations.

it’s too much. you were feeling it all too much and in the heat of the moment, you forgot everything else—you arch your back and felt your climax crashing over you as your cum steadily makes a mess off the backseat with every thrust atsumu made.

he stops.

his head hangs low, looking at the view of your interconnected bodies before scoffing in disbelief. menacingly, he raises his head to make eye contact with you. “didn’t i fuckin’ tell ya to cum only if i tell ya to cum?”

the faux-blond grabs at your hair, ruthlessly tilting it back as you feel a sticky sensation running down your nether lips. you shake your head, eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

“but—!”

“i don’t care. i warned ya, didn’t i? so don’t fuckin’ hate me after all this is over.”

suddenly you feel your fight surging through you again like a tidal wave. this is wrong. how dare they do it even after you said no. how dare they do it and make you enjoy it?

“aw, cute. angel’s still got some fight in ‘er left.”

you thrashed against atsumu as soon as he swiftly pulls out of you. he doesn’t even break a sweat while restraining you with his bare hands.

“let me go! you fuckers! i’ll tell—”

“tell who? our parents? this isn’t elementary school, princess. ya get what ya fuckin’ deserve and it’s not our fault ya like swingin’ that pretty ass so much.”

you growl as a retort, attempting to bite atsumu’s hand off as he swiftly spins you around to lay on your stomach. you cringe, feeling your sticky essence against your skin. you didn't have time to feel humiliated, not as you came face to face with osamu’s still erect and angry dick.

you weren’t dumb, you knew why the faux-blond made you face his twins’ way—this is to be your punishment, he said, all the while feeling him scramble about behind you. it wasn’t only ‘til you feel atsumu’s tip prodding at your ass did you realize what’s going to happen.

“go on and give our ‘samu a nice suck, yeah? put on a show and if ya dare use yer teeth, i’ll personally make sure ya regret ever coming to hyōgo.”

you came back at dawn, during the sunrise. it’s glow basking the whole house in a nice orange tint. “what are you guys doing up so early?” your mom asks when she sees the three of you piling in from the front door.

she was too busy rubbing the sleep out of her eyes that she missed everything—the way osamu’s oppressive arm wrapped around your shoulder got tighter, the way atsumu gave you a nasty side eye, and especially the fearful expression on your face.

“no - nothing, mom. they just wanted to have a birthday countdown for me.”

“oh, right! happy 21st, sweetheart.”