#i had to trudge through so much deep snow to get to the bus stop...

[bogkeep]

it's been snowing a little

[phoenixbsblog]

Friends From The Other Side

Varian felt sick, very sick but he would not rest until he got his father out of the amber, no matter how hard the bitter cold wind blew the millions of snowflakes at high speeds he trudged on. He had to, if there was a way he could quickly alert the Princess from his lab he would do it but unfortunately no such device had been invented yet. He shivered under his thick winter coat, through his fourteen years living in Corona he could not remember the weather ever being this bad, sometimes it did snow a little after Yuletide but this, this was just ridiculous. That morning there was not a cloud in the sky then blizzard!

The Capital in Corona was absolute chaos, people running left and right gathering their loved ones and essential supplies as who knew how long the storm would rage on for? Where they would go he did not know, he did not care either, he grunted as he pushed his sore legs to move faster, his breath became louder as the ache in his chest tightened. All this pain and agony will be worth it when he is back in his dad’s arms and hear those words he’s been longing to hear all his life. “I’m proud of you.”

People were so caught up in themselves they did not notice the young lad, struggling all alone in the vicious storm except one woman with two little girls, she was about to go after him but lost sight of him in the crowd.

He took a deep breath as he approached the castle entrance, he was about to knock on the door but changed his mind, she probably would not hear it and this was an emergency, besides she waltzed into his home with her friend uninvited. He grabbed a hold of the handle on the left door and yanked it open.

“Ay!” Pete jumped like a startled cat as a gust of icy cold wind blew into the hall. He shook his head, gripped his halberd, put on a stern expression as he looked down at the guy he was not familiar with. “Hey… Boy, you can’t come in here!”

“What are you doing here?” Stan asked.

“I-I need to see R-Rapunzel!” Varian cried in sheer desperation, he knew these two they were not as up tight as most guards so he thought they would let it slide.

Pete rolled his eyes. “Everyone wants to see Rapunzel but they can’t, incase you haven’t noticed we have a freaking blizzard! She can’t just drop everything for you!” He reached his hand out to grab him.

“No!” Varian yelled, with all his might, he pushed Pete away and ran down the corridor, he was not sure where she was so listened out for her voice or Cassandra’s, those two were almost always together.

“Don’t just stand there!” Pete shouted at Stan. “Help me!”

Stan grunted then followed after him, by the time they got there he was already with Rapunzel.

“Princess Rapunzel! Princess Rapunzel!” He cried as he ran towards one of the many rooms in the castle. He had never been so glad to see her, saved him time searching all around for her.

“I’m sorry… Princess… He ran straight past me,” Pete panted a little as he stood beside her, he nodded to Stan to take Varian’s other arm.

Rapunzel held her hand up to single for them to stop, she wanted to hear him out.

Varian panted heavily, his heart hammering in his chest, once he got his breath back he looked back at her, pleading for her help. “Rapunzel, my dad’s in danger… You’re the only one who can help, please!” He paused to take another breath. “You have to come to Old Corona with me… Now!”

Rapunzel was quiet, he was talking so fast, but she caught on it was something about his dad. Just when she thought things could not get worse, she supposed he thought the same. The guards, Cass and Nigel who all looked back at her for answer.

She took a hold of his arm and pulled him to one side to talk privately, although this did not do much to help. “What’s wrong?”

“Rapunzel, please… The rocks, they’re encasing my dad!” Varian explained as best he could but she was still confused, there was not time to tell her everything. “Come, come and see for yourself!” He was about to dash out of the castle again but the Princess was not moving. “I-I know you can help… You have a connection to these rocks!”

Rapunzel looked at him sadly, she thought her hands were tied, no way Nigel or Captain would allow her to go through that nightmare blizzard. She had to organise an evacuation, she had to take care of all of these people. “V-Varian… I want to help you but not right now.”

Varian shook his head, she still was not getting it, he ran back over to her, he did not want to beg for her help but he was doing it. He would do anything to save his father, the only family he had left that he knew of. “Rapunzel, listen… My dad doesn’t have much time! You’re the only one who can help!” He clasped his hands together as he looked up at her. “Rapunzel please!”

It was then Nigel decided to stick his big beak in. “Your Majesty, please whatever the boy’s problem is it must be set aside! The storm is getting stronger by the second!”

Varian shook his head, by the time the storm passed it would be too late! “No!” He cried as he reached out to her, he pushed past Nigel and held her arms. “Princess… Y-You promised you would help me!”

Nigel glared at Varian, although they had already heard the part about his dad they did not care. He turned and signalled for the guards to come over.

As always Stan and Pete jumped to their superior’s command, no questions asked, now Rapunzel could have stopped this, tell the men to stand down and release him but she was speechless.

“Rapunzel! You promised!” Varian gasped as Pete and Stan grabbed his arms tightly, their eyes were as cold as the weather outside. No sympathy whatsoever.

Varian struggled but it was no use, he never felt so humiliated as he was dragged down the corridor by the arms. “Princess! My dad needs help!”

“Please don’t hurt him!” Rapunzel pointlessly pleaded, they were out of earshot and even then were rough.

“You promised!” Varian screamed.

“Be quiet!” Stan growled as he tightened his grip on Varian’s arm.

“No! This isn’t fair! She promised she would help me!” Varian cried. “S-She did!”

“Shut up!” Pete snapped harshly. “I told you to leave, you should have left!” When they got back to the front door, he opened one side roughly grabbed Varian and threw him out like a bag of trash.

Varian fell flat on the snowy ground, face first, he quivered frantically and panted heavily as panic raised inside him. What was he going to do now? He was all alone in a place with uncaring, cruel adults. He turned around and his staff was thrown out after him.

“Don’t come back!” He heard Pete shout before he slammed the door.

Varian could not think of a sassy remark, his heart was breaking, he rubbed his arms as the cold got through his coat. He took some time to think, to breathe, he picked up his staff as he stood back up and made his way back home with a heavy heart. Nigel was right about one thing though, the storm was getting stronger, much worse than it was when he left. He pushed on through snowbanks, jumped over rocks, fell over a couple of times but got himself back up. It was not long until the force of the ice cold wind became overwhelming, he shook violently, he could not even stop his teeth chattering. It was like he had been hit with a blast of Elsa’s ice as he was freezing all over. He could barely see where he was going, he tripped over something and fell down to the next level.

The snow continuously fell onto him, in time it would completely bury him but he did not have the strength to get back up, his eyes fluttered, trying hard to stay awake but he could not hold out much longer, the last thing he heard before he lost consciousness was the sound of a dog barking. It was blurry but it looked like one of those large dogs, maybe a Coronan Shepherd. He groaned and then everything turned black.

The dog was large with short black and white fur, she stopped barking, lowered her head and sniffed Varian, he had an interesting scent but more importantly he was in dire need of help.

“Merida! Merida, what are you doing lass?” The woman panted as she rushed over to her dog. She had a golden beige toned skin, her hair was concealed under a wool hat and hood. She gasped as she spotted the poor young man lying hopelessly in the snow. She knelt down and touched his head, she sighed she could not carry him as she had a big baby bump. She was not going to leave him to freeze to death either, she looked over her shoulder to her partner who had their daughters, son and horse. “Harry! Harry!”

He was also tall with a hair style somewhat similar to Eugene but an unusual colours, red, amber and gold.

“What is it?”

“This boy, I had seen him earlier… I wanted to help him but lost him in the crowd… We need to get him warmed up before he gets pneumonia!” the woman cried.

Harry nodded, took a deep breath, carefully lifted him up.

The children looked at him curiously as their dad placed him on the back of their horse.

He huffed and stomped his foot then resumed to walk with his master holding the reigns.

“Ugh… Hmmm… Mmmn,” Varian blinked slowly as he awakened, his brow furrowed at the sight of a roaring fire in front of him even more so with a little boy who sat a little too close to the flames. He had the brightest red hair he had ever seen and did not appear to be bothered by the fire at all.

“Mama! Mama! The boy’s awake! I heard him mumbling!” A little girl announced from upstairs.

Varian felt panic set in again as he looked around the room in alarm, he had no idea who these children were, he did not recognise this room. He gasped when he saw a large dog stood at the door.

“Alright, alright, Hannah.” He heard a woman’s voice but not any he is familiar with.

He listened to the footsteps as they descended down the stairs then watched as the door opened to reveal the woman, she had long curly hair which also strangely had three colours, red, amber and gold. He gasped, he had never seen anything like that before, he wondered what those colours represented? He sighed, he needed Rapunzel, the rocks only answered to her.

The woman stood with hands on her hips and looked sternly at the little boy. “Ron, what are you doing up? You should be in bed.”

The boy pouted. “I-I don’t wanna go to bed.” He rubbed his eye. “I’m not even… Tired.” He let out a little yawn.

“Uh huh,” the woman looked at him skeptically. “Oof!”

She put a hand over her stomach as she sat down on a nearby seat, he noticed she had a baby bump his eyes widened slightly, was she out in that storm to? Was she crazy?!

It was then he realised he had passed out on the way home… She, a complete stranger with little kids and a baby to care for, had stopped to help him? Yet the Princess, someone he thought of as a potentially good friend, turned him away. “W-Who are you?”

The woman put on a little smile as she rubbed her womb. “I’m Holly, we were heading back home when Merida ran off and found you.” She gestured to her dog. “She’s been trained to help find people under snow and rubble from my partner’s work… Well, what he used to do.” She sighed and looked back at him. “How are you feeling?”

Varian met her kind, dark brown eyes, he was speechless but found his voice. “I-I… My-My dad, H-He-“ Tears bursted out of him again as he held his head.

Holly looked at him sympathetically. “Hey, hey, it’s okay, you’re safe here.”

Varian sobbed, he might be safe but his dad was not! He would be completely covered in the amber by this point! Rapunzel had let him down big time! He took a deep breath and tried again. “M-My dad is in… Danger… There was an accident in my lab, I-I was working on the rocks and-and he surprised me, I spilled the compound onto the rocks and-and it grew! He pushed me away but got stuck in it himself! Princess Rapunzel, she’s the Sundrop, the only thing that works with the rocks!” He gripped his hair and groaned in frustration. “I went all the way from Old Corona to-to the castle, begging for her help but she refused, her stupid guards kicked me out!” He sighed heavily. “I am feeling… Terrible!”

Holly nodded. “I’m so sorry you had been through that… I’m not familiar with Coronan magic but maybe Xavier will have some ideas on how to break the amber.”

Varian groaned. “It doesn’t matter what Xavier thinks… I needed Rapunzel and she-she let me down!”

Holly sighed and shook her head in dismay. “Phoenix help her when she becomes Queen.”

Varian furrowed his brow. “Phoenix? What’s that-“ His eyes widened, that’s why her hair has those colours. He shook his head, no, no, a bird, even a magical one, could not match the sun, he needed the Sundrop’s power to free his father!

“I could probably have a word with her.”

Varian jumped at the sound of a man’s voice, he wondered how many people were in this house? He sighed as he came into view and shook his head again. “No, no, Nigel will call the guards on you and you’ll get thrown out.”

“Not if I’m one of them,” Harry put on a cloak which completely changed his appearance to make him look just like Pete.

Varian did not comment, he took a deep breath and stood himself up, he groaned as he put a hand over his face to comfort his pounding headache. “Thank you for getting me out of the cold but… I really need to get back home.”

“I understand… The storm is still going on, it’s not safe for you to go back out there yet,” the woman said as she stood herself up and looked through the curtains.

Varian sighed heavily as he face palmed, he could not relax with the horrible thought that as they spoke his father was dying. How would he be able to breathe in that thing? How could he get the Princess to listen? He groaned as he held his head, his pounding headache had grown stronger.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when Holly gave him a bowl of soup, when did she do this?

“Here, eat… You need to get your strength up otherwise you will get sick again,” Holly insisted.

Varian was reluctant but he was feeling really hungry, he did not yet have the strength to trudge through that mess. He picked up the spoon and began to eat, it was great soup, the best he ever had, instantly his headache and all other pains had vanished. It was like being touched with Rapunzel’s hair… With soup.

“You’re impressed just imagine how I feel… Highlight of the day,” Harry said as he turned to his partner and leaned in for a kiss which she granted.

Some time had passed and the storm had finally ended, there was still a lot of snow but it would soon be gone.

“Wow and I thought Amestria had strange weather,” Holly said as she looked through the window then turned to Varian. “At least you can go home now.”

“I can give you a lift home with the horse and cart,” Harry offered as he put on an ordinary black cloak and lifted the hood to conceal his unusual hair.

Varian nodded, it was nice that although they could not fix the problem as it was beyond their capability, they made sure that he did not have to face it alone.

“Alright then,” Harry nodded then put arm around Holly. “As for you… Take it easy.”

“Don’t worry,” Holly replied as she smiled back at him. “We’ll be just fine.”

Harry smiled fondly at her and kissed her head then stepped back and turned his attention back to Varian. “This way.”

Varian took one more look at Holly. “Thank you.”

Holly nodded. “You’re welcome, dear and if you need any help again, give us a shout.”

Varian smiled and followed Harry out and into the stable where they kept a black stallion.

“Yeah, he was my brother’s until he left the army… Good ol’ Angus,” Harry said as he tapped his neck then picked up the bridal and fitted it on. “He was a war horse seen some real horrors, let me tell ya.”

Varian nodded, he was anxious to get back.

Once the cart was secured, Harry climbed up and sat on one side, Varian joined him on the other. He closed his eyes and tried to take some deep calming breaths.

The ride to his home was not very long but quiet.

“This one here!” Varian called out.

Harry nodded, tapped the reigns to stop the horse, he watched Varian as he hopped off the cart and waited for him to get inside. He was about to leave but stopped. He looked down and concentrated hard, he heard his voice, he cried and… Singing?

“I will make you proud… Get the answers and set you free, don’t worry whatever it might take I’m finding a way.” Varian’s face hardened as he stood himself up, he clenched his fists, he has had enough, to say he was upset or angry would be a big understatement. “I swear right now, that no matter what becomes of me, anyone who has or had stood in my path, they are going to pay!” He bowed his head and there was a moment of silence before he spoke again. “They will… Pay!”

Ruddiger felt nervous, it had not gone as well as he had hoped, he feared it would only get worse. He stepped back and hid in the shadows.

Harry breathed a heavy sigh, closed his eyes and looked up to the sky. “Phoenix, please help this poor boy.”

He was tempted to go in and give him some comfort but he could not just walk into his house. He looked around to make sure he was not being watched, he hopped off from the cart, removed his cloak, spread his arms out, red and gold lights swirled around him as he transformed into a Phoenix bird. He flapped his wings and flew up to the window, he was shocked by what he had seen. Varian’s father stood frozen as a statue with his hand raised up holding a piece of paper, he had never seen anything like this.

Varian breathed a heavy sigh as he turned around, planning to try and figure out a way to get a hold of Rapunzel even if he had to drag her down by her hair, not like it would break anyway. He paused when he saw the unusual bird on his window. He was going to make him shoo away then he noticed the cart was empty. “Harry?”

He nodded, flew inside the room, flapped his wings and stretched up his neck to turn himself back to a man. “I am here for you, Varian… All the way.”

Varian was doubtful, he was not sure he could trust anyone anymore, besides what could he do about that?

“I’ll get Rapunzel for you,” Harry said.

Varian threw his hands up in the air. “How? She doesn’t even know you, why would she listen to you? How are you going to get close enough to her without Nigel and the guards interfering?”

Harry put a hand on his shoulder. “Those fools won’t get to me.”

Varian groaned as he put a hand over his face. “I need Sundrop Power… If Rapunzel’s not going to do it then… I need to get the Sundrop flower!”

Harry shook his head. “The flower died when they used it on Rapunzel, it would be useless now.”

Varian narrowed his eyes. “How would you know?”

“Think about it… All its power went to the Princess via her mother, every last bit,” Harry replied. “A petal would have sufficed but…. Muggles, smh.”

Varian paced back and forth. “If it is dead then why is the King keeping it?”

Harry shrugged. “Sentimental reasons, most likely… Especially since she had been missing for eighteen years.” He jumped in front of Varian and looked him straight in the eyes. “Trust me… I will do whatever I can to fix this.”

Varian looked back into his icy blue eyes, he half expected him to say the ‘P’ word but he did not. One thing that puzzled him though was why he was doing this, put himself at risk of being arrested for ‘upsetting’ the Princess. It is not like he would get anything in return.

Harry sighed. “A long time ago I had lost my father and four years ago Holly and our son had almost lost me… I don’t want you to go through that, I’m going to take care of you until your dad is out of the amber… Hopefully, the Princess will be cooperative but if she isn’t-“ He lifted his hand, stretched his fingers out which made a glow of red light emerge, he winked. “I will give her a push.”

[archived-junkissed]

finals season

day one of junkissed's svt seasons greetings event

member — tutor!seungcheol x student!reader genre — fluff, mild angst, hurt/comfort ?, college au  word count — 2k synopsis — getting a degree isn't easy. fortunately, your tutor that you maybe have a crush on is here to help. warnings — frat president!cheol, mentions of math (yes this is a warning), mutual crushes but they’re both kinda idiots, friends (?) to lovers, really awkward confession scene oops, there's 2 screenshots at the beginning bc i wanted to! notes — lowercase intended; honestly idk how this happened i promise the rest won’t be angsty like this sjdgkfs it was supposed to be cute but then my brain just kept chugging so. um enjoy !

one reblog = one snowy frat party

you sigh and stand up off the couch, wrapping your scarf around your neck. as much as you hated doing math, you always seemed to jump at the chance to study with seungcheol. the weather had made you reluctant to leave the comfort of your home, but the promise of coffee (and your unfairly attractive tutor) was more than enough to lure you out of the house for a couple hours.

even though your major had almost nothing to do with math, you’re still required to take so many credits of the subject to meet your requirements.

you shrug on your coat and grab your backpack in the dark, shoving your laptop and charger in with notebooks and folders. turning to take one last look around to make sure you aren’t forgetting anything, you shut the door quietly and lock it.

the lady working the shift at the front desk smiles and waves as you walk through the lobby of your apartment complex. “where are you headed?” she asks, setting down her nail file.

“tutoring,” you say, pulling the strap of your backpack higher up your shoulder.

“ooh, that hot guy that comes through here every thursday?”

you giggle. “yeah.”

“well, good luck, baby,” she grins, giving you a very indiscreet wink. “have fun with you man!”

“no– we’re not together,” you explain, feeling your cheeks start to heat in embarrassment. not that you don’t want to be together. you don’t even know if he’s single or not.

“not yet! you never know!”

“i’ll see you later,” you laugh, walking out the front door with a wave behind you.

seungcheol’s house is on the other end of campus where the fraternity houses are. it’s not a far walk, but with the snow still coming down heavily you decide not to risk showing up at his door looking like a total mess. so instead of walking like you usually do, you wait at the bus stop outside your apartment, rushing to find a place under the overhang with a crowd of other students waiting to get to class.

fifteen minutes later, you step off the bus, trudging through the quickly growing piles of snow on the ground up to the door of cheol’s apartment.

it’s only friday afternoon, but lambda phi epsilon is already gearing up for whatever party they’re hosting this weekend. you can hear faint music playing from one of the houses across the street. you wonder why cheol, the current president of the frat, isn’t over there with them, but you don’t dwell on the thought.

you smooth down your jacket and check your hair in the reflection of your phone screen, then take a deep breath and knock twice.

the door swings open immediately, revealing your tutor dressed in his… pajamas. you almost choke, your eyes falling to his flannel pants and collared pajama shirt, the top buttons undone revealing an expanse of smooth skin. the material looks soft, so soft, and you have to physically restrain yourself from reaching out to touch him.

“hey! come on in, it’s cold out there,” he smiles warmly. you snap back to attention, drawing your gaze back up to his face.

“thanks,” you manage, stepping inside. “you look, um. comfortable.”

“i love the snow,” he explains. “perfect weather to stay inside and get cozy for the weekend.”

you raise your eyebrows. “you’re not going to the party later?”

“no?” he questions. “why, are you going?”

your cheeks flare. “no, i’m– work,” you laugh awkwardly as the entirety of the english language disappears from your brain.

he smiles. “cool. you can stay as long as you want, then, i don’t have plans. we can work until you have to leave.”

“sounds great,” you squeak out.

oh, it’s gonna be a long night.

but the night isn’t as long as you thought it would be. it actually goes by pretty quickly, once you sit down and start working. as distracting as seungcheol is, you’ve really gotta learn these concepts before your final.

after many tutoring sessions you’d already figured out that cheol is insanely smart, but it never occurred to you before just how smart he is. not only does he understand the material, he understands it enough to explain everything in a way that makes sense to you— something your teachers could never do. everything just seems to click in your brain when he tells you things like why the angle of elevation is below the shape and not above it. hell, he’s even made his own practice problems for you that aren’t in your book, and after hours of teaching you get them all right, all on your own.

“try using this equation,” he says, gently nudging your elbow.

“huh?” you realize you’ve been staring at him and you whip your eyes back down to the workbook in front of you, embarrassed to be focusing on him and not the actual reason you’re here.

what is the reason you’re here? you wonder, your mind wandering. you went to the math department and signed up for a tutor, and a week later you met him in a private corner of the library to get help before your exam. and after a while, you started meeting him at your apartment, because your sessions ran long after the library had closed for the night. and now you’re sitting in his living room, contemplating every life decision you’ve made up until this point and wondering how the hell you ended up studying triangles with him in his pajamas.

he calls your name again, and you turn your head to look at him. but when you make eye contact, you suddenly feel the overwhelming urge to cry.

“do you wanna stop for now? we’ve been on this for a while, we can switch to something else if you want,” he asks. his eyes are full of concern at the sudden way you’ve stopped responding.

how did you end up falling in love with him?

“i… i think i should go home now,” you choke out. your throat feels like it’s closing up from the effort it takes not to burst into tears in the middle of his house.

“oh,” he says quietly. “are you sure? i have more practice problems for you, here, you can take–”

“why are you so nice to me?” you say abruptly.

he pauses. “i– what?”

“our study sessions go way past the hour set by the university, you make practice problems for me, you invite me to your house in your pajamas. you don’t have to do any of that. you get paid no matter what. why?”

his gaze shifts around the room, from the workbook still lying open on the table to the posters on his wall behind you. “i’m sorry about… this,” he says finally. “we can meet in the library again if you don’t like meeting here. and i would’ve changed, if i knew the pajamas made you uncomfortable.”

“it’s not the pajamas,” you whisper.

“sorry?” he says, not hearing you.

“it’s not the pajamas,” you repeat, louder this time. “it’s you. i… i don’t think i need a tutor anymore,” you say.

your vision begins to blur with tears when you hear him say softly, “okay.”

you grab your things and pack your backpack in record time. cheol holds the door open for you as you shrug your bag onto your shoulder.

“i’ll, uh, talk to the tutoring advisor and tell her you don’t need help anymore,” he says awkwardly as you rush out the door.

“goodbye, cheol,” you say, and turn down the steps to leave.

the sound of the door closing quietly behind you is what finally breaks you. tears stream down your face, burning your skin in contrast to the freezing air.

the snow had stopped while you’d been in his house, slowly turning into slush. you plop down on the sidewalk, not even caring that you’re sitting in a puddle of dirt and ice. not only had you just lost your free homework help, you’ve lost a friend who might’ve maybe been something more, if you hadn’t panicked and run off at the first thought of him.

your nose starts to run and you cry harder, wiping your nose against your sleeve, but it does nothing. you sit on the curb outside in the cold for so long you start shivering, but you don’t have the motivation to get up. a part of you doesn’t want to leave, and you don’t know why.

without the extra practice from cheol, you’ll probably bomb your final, which means having to take even more classes for even more credits next semester.

you hear a squeak behind you, but you don’t look back. whatever it is, it doesn’t matter.

“are you okay?”

a familiar voice calls out, and you force yourself to turn around.

“i mean, you don’t look okay,” he adds. “you’re sitting in front of my house, in the snow.”

you hadn’t even noticed it had started to snow again. “oh.”

“do you want to come inside?” he asks gently.

“no,” you answer immediately, but the cold is starting to get to you. “yes.”

he smiles, and just that makes you feel better. he moves out of the middle of the doorway, leaving room for you to come inside.

you stand up, trying to wipe the snow from your backside, and walk back into his house.

a pot of coffee is already steaming on the countertop, and he pours a mug and hands it to you. “why were you sitting in front of my house, in the snow?” he asks after a moment, giving you a minute to warm up.

“i don’t know,” you admit, sniffling. he hands you a tissue. where did he get that?

as you start to calm down and take in your surroundings, you notice he’s changed into jeans and a sweater.

“you didn’t have to change,” you say quietly.

“i know,” he says. “i, uh… i decided i’m going to the party later.”

“oh.”

“yeah.”

the tension in the room is almost unbearable, but you purposely ignore it, bringing his mug to your lips to drink with shaky hands.

“what did you mean, ‘it’s me’?” he says finally. “what you said earlier.”

you swallow. no running away this time.

“well. um. because you’re too good. at everything.” you close your eyes and sigh. “you’re good at math and you’re good at tutoring and you’re a good person.”

“oh?” he asks cautiously. “is that… a bad thing?”

“i don’t know,” you say,. “i don’t know. you’re too nice to me. i can’t figure it out.”

he smiles, and his hand moves at his side, as if he wants to reach out and touch you, but he stays put. “i–” he swallows. “i think you’re really great. and nice. and i wanted to, i guess, get to know you better. that’s why i suggested meeting outside the library. and why i help you so much. because i do want to help you, but, uh…” he trails off, staring at his feet. “i also want more than that.”

“you do?”

he looks up at you nervously, waiting to see if your reaction is good or bad.

“i also want more than that, i think,” you say quietly.

"do– do you wanna stay for a little while?" he asks, glancing out the window. "it's started snowing again."

you smile. "yeah."

his face brightens. "we can order food or watch tv, or– we could keep studying, whatever you want," he says shyly.

"i thought you were going to the party?"

"nah," he grins. "i’d rather stay right here.”

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[warmblanketwhump]

safe enough to fall

a little university-themed thing I wrote using @sicktember prompts: comfort item, sneaky temperature check, medicine, unlikely caregiver, and lightly inspired by these prompts

the grip of the winter’s cold was their constant, unrelenting companion - but sometimes, B just wished it would be a little less faithful.

It doesn’t ease in the morning, when B wakes up coughing with a cold nose and stiff limbs. It stays as B shivers through the lukewarm shower and the hurried layering of clothes over damp, goosebumped skin. It sticks to them like cling wrap on the bus, in the lecture hall, the windy walk to their next class, makes them tense their rattling jaw, and leaves them hunched over and huddled up, desperate to conserve any scrap of heat.

This was a fact of their university existence - that after the pleasant crispness of fall, their poor, scholarship-funded body was plunged into four months of frozen hell. They didn’t like to complain - after all, they were getting a free education. But no one told them how brutal their university’s winters would be, nor that dorm heating was little more than a few puffs of warm air every hour, or that regardless of how many layers they pulled on, they’d be chilled to the bone until late March.

Their final class of the week is in a drafty science lab, and they hold back a groan. The cold's not the only source of their dread - it was the thought of spending 90 minutes with their perky, overly friendly lab partner, A.

A, whose parents were well-off, well-known benefactors of their university. A, who lived in a nice house with proper heating and had the money for a warm winter coat. A, who obliviously chattered on about anything and everything. Besides that, they were just so...happy. All the time.

The can afford to be, B thought miserably. There was no way all that sunshine could be real.

B really tried to tamp down their bitterness, but it was hard to listen to someone gush on about their amazing weekend their family spent on some tropical island when B spent the same weekend wrapped up in blankets, trying to stay warm enough to study their nomenclature notes.

Two minutes before class, A bounds into the lab like a freed golden retriever and begins their usual volley of caffeinated questions, which B responds to in short, clipped answers. Suddenly, the questions stop and A’s brows furrow.

“You look cold. Are you okay?”

B shifts on their stool and tucks their fingers into the sleeves of their worn secondhand coat, pulling it tighter with a shudder. “I am cold. It’s winter.” They cough weakly into their elbow - the nagging cough has gripped them for weeks now.

“Are you sick?”

Direct, then. That was new. “No. At least, I don’t think so. I don’t have a fever or anything.” In truth, they had been feeling a little lower than usual the past couple of days, the chill a little deeper, the aches more pronounced, the cough a bit more painful. But in their book, that was hardly enough call themselves sick. B sniffles and A opens their mouth to comment further, but the professor calls the class to attention, and the moment is gone.

90 minutes later, they’ve got their work cut out for them - a ten-page lab report that’s going to count for nearly a quarter of their final grade. And as luck would have it, it was a partner project, which meant B got to spend more time with the equivalent of human rocket fuel.

“So...do you want to just knock this out tonight?” A's eyes dart around nervously.

B frowns - it’s almost the weekend, and they figured A would have plans with friends this evening. But B sure doesn’t have anything going on., so they don’t protest. “No… I s’pose we should get as much done as possible while it’s still fresh. Want to go to the library?”

“Ugh." A cringes. "Do we have to? That place is like a tomb.”

B huffs indignantly. “It's not that bad," they mumble in a weak defense of their favorite study spot. A shoots them a glare, and B rolls their eyes. "Do you have somewhere better? It's Friday, so most places are closing up.”

“Well, my parents decided to go on some last-minute ski trip to the Alps again, so my place is free," A says as they step out into the biting wind. "Plus, I have a ton of food and it's actually warm in there, unlike these buildings.”

The promise of decent heating and food that wasn't from the dining hall was enough for B. "Fine. Your place." The pair trudge through the bitter wind as the sun begins to set, and soon they arrive at A's parents’ home - a beautiful, winding estate just a couple minutes away from campus. B has to bite their lip to keep their jaw off the ground - in the blustering snow, this place looks straight out of a Christmas card. Another reminder of how they don’t fit in this world.

Will you stop? B chastises themselves. A having money isn't a personal attack on you. Just enjoy the free food, finish the assignment and get over it.

Despite the towering exterior, B's house was quite cozy, colored in warm neutrals and filled with soft, comfortable furniture. Just past the mudroom, they spot a big living room filled with with an enormous overstuffed couch, squashy-looking pillows, and soft throw blankets. Everything about this place screams warm. A rubs their arms, suddenly aware of how cold they are. The heat nearly makes them dizzy, and they can feel the temperature difference as it seeps into their cold skin.

"Want some cocoa?" A tosses their bag into the corner and heads for an electric kettle in the kitchen, and B follows. "It always helps me warm up." B nods. A couple minutes later, A pushes over a steaming mug with the top entirely covered in marshmallows.

B wraps their chilled fingers around the mug and takes a sip, and the warm, rich liquid feels like heaven to their cold body. "That's amazing."

A smiles. "It's the good stuff." They sip in a surprising silence for a few moments, before A sighs in resignation. "As much as I wish this was just a social call, this report isn't gonna write itself." They grab a bag of popcorn and nod their head toward the living room, and B follows dutifully. A flicks on the gas fireplace and tosses B a throw blanket, and the pair gets to work.

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After a couple hours of studying, three instances of indignantly thrown popcorn, and a dramatic reading of the periodic table, B realized that they may have misjudged A. Deep down, under the bubbly exterior, A was a genuinely kind, sweet person. It wasn't an act - they just were human sunshine. And the longer they spent time with them, the more B realized they didn't mind their company at all.

"Alright." A drops their pencil and rubs their eyes. "If I have to balance one more equation, my brain's gonna explode. Study break time." A flips on the TV and puts the volume on low.

B leans their head back on the couch and pulls their throw blanket to their chin, trying to ward off the shivery feeling in their core. Despite the heat of the fire, the mug of hot chocolate, and the thick blanket, they just can’t seem to get warm.

Their face feels hot, but their blood feels chilled and heavy, the weight of it making them ache deep down in their bones. B wraps their arms around their knees, trying to rub away the throbbing pain and get some warmth into their skin. They glance out the picture window at the now-blowing snow. It's gonna be a miserable walk home.

"B, you're shivering." A's turning to look at them now.

B startles. "It's-It's nothing. Just a chill." The concern in A's voice triggers their flight response. "I....I should probably get back to the dorms. It’s late–" They're cut off with a hacking cough that leaves them breathless and they wince at the ache in their chest.

"B, it's snowing, and you haven't even had dinner-"

"Where's my jacket?" They push themselves up and toss the throw blanket off, instantly regretting it as the air invades their pocket of hard fought warmth. They’re trembling and dizzy and desperately freezing, but they cannot stay here. Then, the world tilts and they fall back on to the couch. For a moment, they're just laying in an icy, spinning world, trying to catch their breath, when warmth suddenly envelops them.

A's tucking the same thick grey blanket around their shivering form. As they pull away, their hand lightly brushes over B's neck, then freezes. B twists away from the gentle touch, but it’s too late. Realization floods over A's face. Caught. "You lied. You are sick."

B groans, even as their fingers weave into the chunky knit and pull the warm layer closer. "A, please. Just let me go home. I'm probably contagious. You don't want me here."

"B, you look like death warmed over. I'm not sending you out in a blizzard when you're feverish like this. I won't do it." There's a spark in their eyes and a set to A's jaw that dares B to challenge them.

B leans back, defeated. Even though they want nothing more than to run out of this room, they're too weak to stand and too cold to move. So here they'll stay.

It's okay. Someone's here. You can give in now.

No. I can't. I can't let them see me like this.

What choice do you have? You already look awful. Let them help you.

A covers them with another blanket and places a gentle hand on their back, rubbing slowly. The firelight flickers, casting light and shadow across their solemn face. “B. Tell me what you're feeling, and I'll get you what you need.”

B swallows down the rising panic, the helpless vulnerability they feel, and takes a shallow, shaky breath. “I…I guess I just feel….not right. I’m always cold...but it's...worse.” They sniffle weakly, trying to still and order their swirling thoughts. “Chills, fever, cough, sore throat, kinda stuffed up. And it just hurts everywhere.”

A nods slowly, then leaves the room. They return in a few minutes with a few small bottles, carefully scanning the labels and holding them up for B to see.

“Can you take this? Any problems with this one?” B had to take a moment and match the brand names with their usual knockoff brands, but soon they had a couple over the counter medicines picked out, along with something for their cough.

A glances at the medicine labels once more. "This one says to take with food. I've got some leftover chicken and dumpling soup I can heat up - does that sound okay?"

B nods almost imperceptibly. "Sounds wonderful." A gets up to heat the soup, and B feels the anxiety rising in their stomach when they're not in the room with them. A returns with a mug and manages to gently spoon a few sips of broth into B's mouth before B starts falling asleep, clutching the grey blanket even tighter to their shoulders.

A smiles sadly. “That blanket's my favorite whenever I'm not feeling good. It's the best thing you could have to fight off what you’ve got. Trust me.”

B curls into the soft fabric. It was as if the warm environment of the apartment and the comfort of the blanket had been a signal that it was safe to leave survival mode, rest for a moment, open the floodgates that had been holding back whatever had been ailing them for weeks.

After B takes their medicine, A’s eyes shift awkwardly around the room. “So….when you’re sick, do you like having someone with you? Or do you want to be by yourself?”

A sudden rush of emotion crashes over B. They’d so rarely had the choice. It takes all they’ve got not to throw themselves around A and beg them not to leave. “Stay, please,” they ask in a small, trembling voice. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

A smiles halfway and gently pats B’s leg. “Seeing as how I live here, I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” They take their spot at the end of the couch and pull B’s legs over their own, flicking the TV to a familiar movie. B tries to keep up with the plot, but they keep falling in and out of a fitful, restless sleep, tossing, turning, unable to get comfortable enough.

When B’s about ready to cry from exhaustion, A’s there, covering them up with another blanket, bringing them a glass of water, gently stroking the damp hair off their forehead before laying a cold cloth over it. They flinch at first, but the cool dampness eases the fire of their fever, even for just a moment. The last thing B remembers before falling unconscious is a gentle hand squeezing theirs.

It could be minutes or hours later when they jolt awake from a fever dream in a cold sweat, choking and coughing. They’ve kicked off their blankets and the cloth is nowhere to be found, but the chills are back in full force. A appears in B’s blurred vision, hand held to B’s forehead. “Poor thing. Your fever’s worse,” they murmur.

B’s still gasping for breath, curled up in the fetal position, body wracked by the shakes as they try force the words through their chattering teeth. “A...It's so cold. I’m so scared.”

If B was more lucid, they’d see something in A’s eyes crack wide open at their weak, fearful cries. A pulls the trusted grey blanket from the floor and wraps it back around B, rubbing their arms to try and make them feel warmer. There's something in the tenderness of the gesture, and B’s panicked gasps turn into soft, quiet sobs. They try and cover their face with one hand, but A’s hand is there, catching their wrist and wiping the tears away with their thumb.

“Hey. You’re gonna be okay. We just gotta get through tonight, alright?” A’s voice matches their usual cheery demeanor, but B can see the fear in their own eyes. They don’t know what they’re doing either.

“Why are you helping me?” B whispers in a tear-roughened voice.

A shrugs. "You're sick. You need help. Is it that so surprising?"

B's eyes flash a delirious spark. "You don't get it. I'm a broke scholarship student. I'm nothing like you. I'm not fun, or bubbly, or rich, or any of those things you are, and I don't fit in here. So why?"

B can't stop the words now, every single insecurity laid bare. "Why do you try to talk to me when I'm nothing but rude to you? Why'd you invite me here? Am I just a project to you? Why are you helping me? I'm not worth it!" The words spill out before B can stop them, and the raw hurt in A's eyes nearly rips B's heart out of their chest.

B claps their hand over their mouth, tears flooding their eyes. Now they've done it. They've laid it all out there. A's gonna kick them to the curb. And B won't blame them one bit.

But instead, A just looks at them, and pulls B into a hug. Their voice wavers only a bit as they whisper in B's ear: "You're not a project. You are completely worth being cared for. And you’re not the only one who knows what it feels like to not fit somewhere. Trust me.”

Alone. In a big, empty house. Studying on a Friday night. No plans of their own.

A, are you lonely, too?

Their words are so simple.

And yet they're everything B didn't know they needed to hear. A's got one arm around their shoulders, and one hand threaded through their sweaty, fever-damp hair, and they're cradling B so tightly it’s like they're the one who needs to be held.

B can't find the words to apologize or comfort them back. They're too tired for that. But they wrap their other arm around A and let their head rest on their shoulder. They stay like that for ages until their head begins to drop, and A shifts so they’re both laying down, B curled against A, A’s arm wrapped around their shoulders as they tuck a blanket around them both.

And finally, finally, B lets go. It's safe to fall, this time around. Because for the first time, there's someone there to catch them.

[kaori-flowers]

Hello! I know I said I was gonna take a break from writing Techno and Tommy. This has them in it a little. I got this idea and had to write it down before I forgot it. Hopefully you enjoy :)

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After stuffing his bed to make it look like he was sleeping, he slid out the back window. He landed on the path quietly, and then pulled out an invis potion. He chugged it and kept his watch timmer on so he knew when to take another one. He slid down off the path into the cold water as quietly as he could. He pulled out hit trident and took a deep breath before diving under. With the Trident's help he zoomed through the water effortlessly. After a few minutes he stopped to come up for air, and look around slowly. He was in the middle of the ocean and let himself float as he pulled out his compass. The compass spun around for a few seconds before pointing north and stopping. He put the compass back and dove back under. It only took him 5 minutes to actually reach the island where Techno's house was. He pulled himself out of the water and put his trident away carefully. He stood on the frozen bank for a few minutes, letting himself drip.

"Okay im just gonna check on them, and I will go back. I swear."

Phil was reassuring himself and urging himself not to stay, because then there would be another war. Literally. Even though Phil knew Techno would win he still didn't want to be the cause of the next war. Phil trudged through the snow as quick as he could, making his legs extremely cold. The pressure hurt a little, but he seen the bright lights of the house in the distance. He sighed in relief as he moved closer at a slow pace. The first thing he noticed was Carl tied up in the barn with a bunch of lanters on. Carl nickered and paced around, seeing Phil. Phil quickly tried to shush him as he entered the barn with Carl. The warmth of the barn wrapped around him quickly and Phil gently held his hand out. Carl sniffed him before shaking his head up and down, making his harness gingle.

"Shhhhh, it's okay. Just be quiet."

Phil softly rubbed Carl's head, kissing his nose a few times. He gave him an apple and stood directly under a lamp, in hopes to warm up quicker. Carl watched him as he chomped on the apple he recieved. After the apple was gone he nodded his head again, nickering at Phil. Phil shushed him as he rubbed his hands together. He didn't want to waste too much time so he gave up and walked back over to Carl. Phil kissed his head and nose before rubbing it gently again. Then he left the barn and headed up the porch to the front door. Phil listened but didn't hear anyone talking. He slowly opened the door more, and entered quietly. He shut the door behind him and quickly noticed reflective armour standing without insides. Which meant the person in front of him was invis.

"I-"

"Dad?!"

It was Tommy's voice, and Tommy wasted no time in hugging Phil tightly. Phil tensed up at the sound of Tommy calling him dad, since he has never heard it before. Phil hesitated a second but hugged Tommy back tightly, relived he was still alive. He was very relived that he was okay for the most part. It's not like he could actually see if he was or not. Tommy was invisible for christ sakes!

"Tommy who are y-"

"Phil?! What are you doing here?!"

Tommy let go of Phil as Phil did to Tommy. Technoblade and Ranboo came up from the basement to find an invisible Tommy hugging a very visible Phil. Phil tensed up at the sight of Ranboo and looked at Techno for a second. Then he looked back at Ranboo.

"Im sorry! I just wanted to make sure my kids were okay!"

Phil blurted out quickly, unsure of what else to actually tell him. I mean why else would Phil be there? He only really cared about if his son's were alive and well. Before anyone else can say anything Technoblade yanks Phil into his arms. He hugs Phil tightly and Phil hugs him back almost instantly. Technoblade was relieved his father made it to him safely. He also checked Phil over, making sure he was okay as well.

"Wait did you call him dad?"

Everyone turned to look at Tommy as soon as Technoblade asked the question. As Tommy's invis faded out he just looked a little confused. He looked at Phil and then Techno, realizing what he had done. But since Tommy had been staying with Techno he had been growing into himself. Tommy has embracing who he actually is and was accepting his actual family.

"Y-yeah. He is dad."

"Well yeah but-"

"Phil how do you plan to get back in your house without being noticed? How did you even get out?!"

Technoblade looked at Phil and then turned his attention to Ranboo. Tommy looked at Phil, and hugged him once more. After being all alone in exile he was happy to start seeing actual people. Especially the ones that are his actual family.

"What do you mean?"

"He-"

"You will take him back."

"What?!"

Phil and Tommy looked at Ranboo and Techno quickly. Despite the fact that Ranboo was the same height, if not taller than Techno, he was still intimidated by him. Technoblade pulled his sword out of it's shealth, making Ranboo gulp hard and Phil cover Tommy's eyes. Technoblade held it tightly as he grabbed Ranboo's shirt. He yanked him closer, and raised his sword.

"You will sneak him back in safely. Understand?"

"Y-yes!"

"Good."

Technoblade let go of him and put his sword back. Ranboo fixed his suit, smoothing out where Techno grabbed him. Phil removed his hands from Tommy's eyes, and Tommy was relieved to see Ranboo was still alive.

"You could have just asked. Ranboo is my friend! He wouldn't hurt our dad. Right Ranboo?"

"Of course not Tommy. I would never hurt your dad."

Ranboo replied in a soft tone, feeling a small pain of sorrow for him. Ranboo knew what Tommy has been through these last few weeks. He figured he did in fact owe Tommy for all the pain and suffering he's been through. Especially when he managed to get away scott free, and Tommy got the worst of it.

"Okay well, I came to make sure you two were alright. I should head back. It's bad if I stay out for too long. They'll notice."

"Ranb-"

"I'll make sure he gets in safely. I promise."

Phil said his goodbyes to both his son's, hugging them tightly since he didnt know when he'd see them again. Then he followed Ranboo out of the house, and down the porch steps.

"Wait."

Ranboo stopped and turned around to look at Phil. Phil entered the small barn to say goodbye to Carl, not knowing when he'd see him again either. Ranboo waited patiently, understanding how hard it must be for Phil. When Phil was done, he left and joined Ranboo's side. They began walking without any conversation for a while, only the sound of snow crunching underneath their feet. It made both of them feel a little awkward and uncomfortable in the silence.

"So...."

"Sorry about Techno threatening you. He's just really protective and-"

"Oh yeah no worried. I get it. You're his dad, and im sure you are very important to him. It's understandable."

"Yeah....."

They fell back into silence, other than the snow crunching of course. They were covering good ground though, and were at the bank of the water before they knew it. Ranboo set up a boat and gently put it in the water, getting in first. Phil got in behind him and Ranboo began rowing. Phil broke the silence again, because of his own curiosity.

"So.... What were you doing out here at Techno's house?"

"Oh I was uh following Ghostbur."

"Right. You're uh... you're not gonna tell anyone Tommy is alive and here.... right?"

"Um... No. I don't think I will."

"Think?"

Ranboo fell silent and stopped rowing, he just let the boat drift on the soft waves. Phil gave him time to answer, not really worried since they were just drifting. Ranboo thought it over slowly and realized whose side he should be on. With everything Ranboo was a witness to and heard, it was clear what was right and what was wrong.

"I'm not gonna tell them Phil. I promise."

"Okay."

The boat ride was silent again, and it stayed silent as they returned. Ranboo kept glancing around to make sure no one was in sight. Ranboo docked the boat, and tied it up before he got out first. Then he helped Phil out and Ranboo looked around to make sure no one was around.

"Alright let's go before someone comes."

Ranboo walked first with Phil following him closely. Phil was extremely suspicious of Ranboo, unsure if he could actually trust him. Sure he seemed trustworthy, but was he actually? Phil was unsure.

"Ranboo what the hell are you doing?!"

Phil and Ranboo turned around quickly to see Tubbo and Quackity standing there. Phil looked at Ranboo as Ranboo looked at him. Ranboo looked back at Tubbo, and moved slightly forward.

"I didn't want to go alone, and I couldn't find any of you. Im sorry."

"Wha- you could have just messaged us?!"

"You're right I'm sorry, but I was in a rush. It won't happen again I promise!"

Tubbo looked at Quackity slowly and then back at Ranboo. Ranboo's heart was pounding, unsure if this excuse was working or not. He knew this could end really bad or really well. Tubbo had no reason not to believe Ranboo right now, because so far he's done nothing but help him. So Tubbo gave him the benefit of the doubt and accepted this statement as the truth from him.

"Okay. Do not do it again."

"Yes sir."

Ranboo walked Phil up his porch and to his front door. Phil opened it, and entered, surprised that Ranboo held up his end of the deal. Not that there was any deal really, it was more of a threat. Phil was still a little grateful that Ranboo didn't throw him under the bus. Ranboo entered after Phil and sat on his chair, taking a breathe. His heart was still pounding a little, and he felt slightly on edge.

"Here."

Ranboo looked up to see Phil holding out a plate. On the plate was a sandwich and a sticky note that said thank you. Ranboo looked up at Phil to see he had a soft smile on his face. Ranboo gently took the place and nodded slightly. He still felt stressed and a little nervous now, but was a little calmed knowing he got Phil's approval. Or at least he thought and hoped he did.

[driversmutbucket]

hello pal, could you do smut prompt 38 with a wee bit of my fave subby sweetie paterson?

🤭🥺🤭🥺🤭🥺🤭

“You’re n-not ,um, w-wearing anything under that, are you..?”

Paterson my sweet summer child, let me corrupt you 🥺

As per my M.O this is probably full of grammar and spelling errors 👌🏼

Paterson x Reader

Warnings: dom/sub dynamic, semi public sex, NSFW. Fluffffff

You were literally freezing your tits off.

Trudging through the snow to surprise your soft-spoken man at the end of his shift.

You had on good authority that he was closing up the depot tonight, being the last one in after finishing his route.

It was your anniversary after all. There was nothing like semi-public sex to express your love. Even if you were going to have to be a bossy to get it.

You creaked open the door of the dark depot.

“Hello?!” Paterson called out.

“Just me!” You called, making your way to the office, where you could see the light on.

“Honey what are you doing here! You shouldn’t be walking out at night alone, could be dangerous.” He frowned, taking in your attire. “Why don’t you have anything on your legs, Jesus, Honey!” Your long woolen coat finished at your knees, snow boots only reaching your mid calf. You pussy was an icicle, but it was worth it, for him.

You stayed silent, cocking an eyebrow at him and smiling deviously.

You watched him figure it out, he leaned back in his chair, studying you quietly.

“You’re n-not ,um, w-wearing anything under that, are you..?” He managed eventually.

You shook you head. Still smiling.

“There are security cameras in here- we can’t- I mean I want to-” he babbled, looking panicked.

He was so cute, so sweet, so concerned about getting in trouble.

“Baby, shhhh, it’s fine.” You purred, leaning against the doorway. “You’re gonna take me somewhere where there are no cameras mmmmk?”

He was flustered, and half hard, you could see his slacks straining a bit.

“My bus.” He nodded, making up his mind.

“Oooooo baby I’ve always wanted you to fuck me in the drivers seat!” You grinned, watching him fumble with his keys as he tried to hurriedly lock up the office.

He strode past you, towards the nearest bus, unlocking the doors and standing awkwardly waiting for you.

“You need me to direct you baby?” You bit your lip, seeing how anxious he was, and knowing the way to relax him. Take charge.

“Yes.”

“Mmmmmk baby, I got you.” You soothed, walking towards him. “Go sit in your seat, facing the door.”

He scrambled inside, you couldn’t help but grin at how quickly he slipped into a submissive role.

You strutted up the steps towards the driver seat, wishing you had something on your feet that were a bit more sexy than clunky snow boots.

Paterson didn’t seem to mind, he was watching you descend on him with the face of a kid on Christmas.

You unbuttoned your coat, your naked body on full display from the front. You weren’t about to take it off, you didn’t care for hypothermia.

“Paterson, baby.”

“Mmmmm?” He sounded far away. His eyes devoured your curves, his slacks growing increasingly tighter as his cock strained.

“Are you gonna eat my pussy like a good boy?” You asked softly, maneuvering his legs so he was sitting in front of the steering wheel like he was about to drive.

You climbed onto the seat, standing so your feet were planted on either side of his thighs.

“Paterson?” You repeated.

“Yes- yes honey.” He breathed, staring at your bare pussy with big eyes.

“Good boy, you’re my good boy.” You hummed, hiking one leg up and resting it on the top of the back of his chair. Your cunt spread wide in front of his face.

Paterson’s large hands settled on your hips, you could feel his breath tickling your clit.

With the hand you weren’t using to steady yourself you slid your fingers through through his silky hair, pressing his head gently into your sex.

He kitten licked your clit, you gasped, rocking against him.

“Suck it baby.” You urged, he immediately wrapped his lips around your tender nub and sucked.

“Oh god! Baby, that’s perfect- fuck! Good boy!” You moaned, fisting handfuls of his hair.

He hummed at your praise, sending vibrations through your cunt.

“Finger me, want you to make me cum.” You breathed, craving the way his thick fingers felt deep inside you.

He obeyed, pushing one finger in, then another in quick succession, curly them perfectly, just you you had taught him. God, he was good.

“Jesus! That’s perfect, you’re perfect.” You whimpered as he sucked and flicked your nub, his fingers coaxing your towards orgasm. Your praise spurred him on, increasing the suction on your clit.

He held you steady, your legs turned to jello as you climaxed, he moaned into your heat, lapping up what he could of your cum.

“Good?” He asked, his face shining with you slick.

“Amazing.” You mumbled, shakily lowering yourself into his lap, straddling him so your knees were either side of his thighs. You wiped his face tenderly, with your sleeve.

“Get that big cock out for me baby.” You instructed, placing a quick kiss on his lips.

You pushed up onto your knees so he could free himself from his straining slacks.

He hissed when he pulled himself free, the head of his dick weeping in anticipation.

“Oh god, I fucking love you so much.” You whimpered as you sunk down on his length.

“I- i- love you too.” He managed to grit out, before you claimed his mouth, sucking and nipping his pillowy bottom lip.

You rolled your hips, the hydraulics of the chair providing assistance in your endeavors to ride his cock in a somewhat a controlled manner.

Both of his hands squeezed the globes of your ass as you kissed deeply, your own hands behind his neck, stroking his hair.

You broke the kiss, looking behind you and carefully leaning backwards, bracing yourself on the steering wheel. This way he had access to your clit that was screaming for attention.

“Rub my clit.”

His fingers were circling the throbbing nub within seconds as you continued to fuck him slowly, his cock dragging deliciously against your walls and your g-spot at this angle.

“Fuck, are you close baby?” You panted.

He nodded with a soft groan, watching your tits bounce as you moved.

“You can touch them.” You grinned.

His free hand pawed your breasts as your body began to tense with an impending orgasm.

“I’m close baby, don’t stop- so good- I- fuuuuuucccck!” You clenched the steering wheel, eyes rolling back as you came, babbling praises.

Paterson thrust a few time up into your pulsating cunt before spilling deep inside you.

He pulled you into his chest, enveloping you in his warmth.

“Thanks for the poem.” You smiled, looking up at him, “I love it so much.”

“It’s nothing.” He murmured, kissing your forehead tenderly.

“It’s not nothing, it’s beautiful, like you.” You grinned, running your finger down the bridge of his nose.

He huffed, but smiled tucking a stray hair behind your ear, “no one in this world is as beautiful as you Honey.”

——

🥺👉🏻👈🏻💋

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Weak Spots

Summary:  Red knew he should've just kept walking.

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

Red didn’t do walks. Why the fuck would he, for his health? Wasn’t a workout plan out there that was gonna build him any muscle and when your main mode of transportation was taking a step through the void, you tended to keep the travel expenses to a minimum.

So no, he didn’t do walks, or strolls, or jogs, did he look like his fucking brother? Maybe a little around the eye sockets, but where Edge was always on the move, Red’s internal gearshift was set on park. He liked to have a clear idea of where he was coming from and where he was going to, and not much in between.

All of that was a longass way of saying that wandering down the street with a cigar in one hand and an itchy tailbone in the other was not his normal state of being. Just the walking part, the smokes and the ass scratch were a daily occurrence.

Sometimes, though, the urge struck to get out, to circle the block and have a looksee around that wasn’t through a camera lens. His leg bones got jittery, was all, and tended to take him along for the ride.

If you asked Sans, they weren’t walks at all, it was only him taking a mo’ to survey his domain. Said if Red coulda taken a piss, he’d be whizzing on any tree or fire hydrant he passed. But no one fucking asked Sans, so who gave a shit what that fucker thought about it.

He’d be paying for that remark in spades when Red got back. Spades, diamonds, clubs, he’d owe in all the suits.

(maybe even hearts)

Red shuffled easily along, the soles of his boots scraping the concrete. Up to the border where Old New Home and New New Home met and transformed from mostly abandoned carbon copy houses to pretty little family homes. Didn’t usually go this far out, but it was better’n trudging through the roughly plowed streets of his neighborhood. The sidewalks here were newer and heated, cleared from any snowy sludge, and Red was plenty done with all forms snow; after years in Snowdin, he’d had enough of it for this lifetime and halfway into the next.

The sidewalk made a lazy loop through the little park system that was slowly getting built up. Ebott had a few parks, sure, but not all Monsters wanted to drive out or haul their kiddos on the bus for a little swing set time. No one was on the playground right now, the swings hanging empty, the jungle gym iced over. Maybe on a warmer day, the kiddos would be out but today the chill was keeping them behind closed doors, wasn’t another soul in sight and—

Wait.

In one corner of the park, deep in the snowdrifts and sitting at the wide base of sheltering tree was someone in a bright orange jacket. For a split second, he thought it was Stretch sitting huddled over there; not too many other people around here chose to dress like they were in search of a fucking crosswalk to guard.

A blink and a closer look proved it was a trick of sight, not that Red was that far off. Turned out to be Andy, the honey bun’s shorter platonic soulmate was the one parked alone in the snow. Kid was sitting with his head resting on his updrawn knees, his arms wrapped around ‘em and Red’d seen enough people in that position to recognize when someone was havin’ a cry. ‘course, usually it was his fault…

Anyway.

What he should do is just keep on walking. Kid hadn’t seen him and whatever his troubles were, there were plenty of other shoulders out there he could spill ‘em on. Hell, Blue might kick his own brother out of the way to rip his damn shirt off so Jeff could use it as a Kleenex and apologize for not washin’ it first.

Red had enough on his plate, thanks, and he didn’t need anyone feeding him whatever was the daily special for angst.

Keep on walking, yep, that was what he should do. Maybe even take a shortcut, head on back home where Sans was probably still curled up on the sofa in the same grungy shorts he’d worn the day before, socks sagging down to puddle at his ankles and a smear of ketchup on the front of his t-shirt. No one was ever gonna paint him like one of their French girls and that was fine by Red. Let his bro keep the pretty one, Red had a claim on the asshole, even had his name on ‘im these days and Sans wore it bold as the brass it was engraved on.

Shoulda, coulda…didn’t. Red heaved out a sigh and stopped. His bro was the one who kept collecting liabilities but fuck if Red hadn’t picked up a coupla weak spots of his own along the way and Handy Andy was one of ‘em.

If Grillby could only see him now, he’d laugh his flaming fucking head off.

So Red took a detour, wandered over in Andy’s direction. The snow was deeper out here, spilling cold into the tops of his boots and why the fuck couldn’t people have a crisis where it was warm? Andy didn’t look up and Red leaned against the tree trunk, grimacing at the chill leaking through his jacket as he struck a match against the rough bark.

That got him a startled gasp and Jeff jerked, looking up at him with a tearstained face and red-rimmed eyes.

Red worked on lighting a fresh cigar, wondered idly if he's gonna have to arrange some kind of 'accident'. Better not be Antwan making the kid cry, 'cause if he had to murder his bro's best friend, it'd be a lot of damn work; he’d need to make that case airtight, Edge always gotta be so suspicious. Trained baby bro too well in that.

But patience was asking too fucking much and his feet were cold, so Red asked gruffly, "so what's the problem, kid?"

“Nothing,” Jeff said, sniffling,

“uh huh. just rehearsing for the big play, is that it?”

He was quiet for a long moment and Red didn’t say another word, only smoked his cigar and let the silence crawl up Andy’s spine, prickling like a sin until he finally blurted, “My mom called.”

“that so,” Red said, indifferently. Leaving the door open and as suspected, Jeff blundered right on through it.

“My dad had a heart attack and he's in the hospital,” Jeff said. A fresh wash of tears fell down his cheeks and he wiped them impatiently away on his sleeve. “She said he’s stable and he doesn’t want to see me, but she wanted to let me know.”

“sounds like a bitch move right there.” He snuck a glance and saw the protest rising on Jeff’s face in a ‘don’t call my mom’ a bitch sort of way, watched as it faded.

“Maybe it was,” Jeff said, low. He dropped his chin back on his knees, his gaze resting on wide field of untouched snow in front of him. “You’d think I’d be over it. It’s been years since he kicked me out. I want to hate him, you know? Sometimes I even do, but…it's still my dad. It still hurts, every stupid time.”

“uh huh.” Yeah, Red got that. Sometimes all the what ifs and could bes and wishes for things to be different got clotted up with reality. It happened. "so why ain't you with the honey bun or sacked up with your booty call? why are you sittin' here alone like a dumbass?"

Jeff didn't answer for a long minute, his eyes on the ground, until he finally muttered, "Because they'd try to make me feel better."

Ah.

Red only nodded, shifting to stand upright with a grunt. "gotcha. welp, wallow away, kid." He stuck his cigar between his teeth, shoved his hands in his pockets, and started off, tromping back through the snow. A low, muted sob rose behind him and Red paused long to call back, "i'll give ya a coupla hours to get it out of your system, kid. cry, scream, play country music, don't give a shit, but after that, you better be headed someplace more cheerful, you get me?"

"Okay," Jeff sniffled, all pained gratitude and fresh tears. "Thanks, Red."

"don't. i wasn't even here." Red walked out back out to the sidewalk and left the kid to it, headed in the direction of home, and if he pulled up the camera hidden on one corner of the jungle gym on his phone, eh, Jeff should know better by now than to ever think Red wasn't watching.

-finis-

[consumedkings-archive]

WITCHING HOUR, a john seed/deputy fic.

chapter six: starving limbs

word count: 9.4k

rating: m for now, rating will change in later chapters as things develop, tags will be updated accordingly.

warnings: body horror, hallucinations (?), joseph spends .000000003 seconds about to go demon but manages to rein it in. uhhhhh LOTS of uncomfortably awkward dialogue. and allusions to past ~steaminess~. that should be it!

notes: this chapter is a tiny bit of an interlude! we get some new players introduced (please note the tags), some ssssssssslooooooooow development with john and elliot too, and just a bit more intrigue. sorry in advance that i can't write anything that doesn't have both body horror and horror-humor in it.

thank you to my beloved @starcrier​​ and @shallow-gravy​​ for putting their eyeballs on this for me, and @vasiktomis​​ for listening to me wax and wane poetic about my agonies; i would be nothing, no-one, without you, and i love you all so dearly!

“Who was that?”

Tall, short-cropped blonde hair. Lots of dark layers. A bolt-action rifle with a scope on it.

“Jacob.”

Not one of ours, he thought, turning the truck onto the highway. Not one of ours. Thought the fuckers were all dead or gone. Where the fuck did she come from?

“Why aren’t we going back to the compound?”

Did she set Fall’s End on fire?

“Jacob?”

“Holy shit.” He exhaled the words out of his mouth, billowing out of his chest in a sigh that only barely scratched the surface of his frustration at listening to Isolde pester him nonstop. Without looking at the brunette next to him, Jacob said, “You must be where John learned how not to shut the fuck up.”

He could feel Isolde’s eyes narrow more than he saw it happen. “I think that’s a Seed trait.”

“If I knew who that was,” Jacob continued, glossing over her little barb, “don’t you think I would have said?”

“Oh, please. You seem the type to get off on being withholding,” Sol snipped pointedly. He shot her a look.

“Don’t throw a tantrum, Isolde.”

“So why aren’t we going back to the compound?” She pressed, and Jacob’s mouth twisted into a grimace. It was a fair enough question—more fair than the initial one she’d posed, anyway—but even now, to a woman that was arguably close enough to a sister-in-law one way or another, he found himself reluctant to elaborate.

It had been over a year of refusing to expand upon questions his brothers posed, absences from family gatherings or an unwillingness to pursue people who had shown a clear romantic interest in him. There were some things that—well, that he had selfishly wanted to keep for himself.

“Gotta pick someone up,” is what he said after a moment, turning down the highway toward the Whitetails.

Isolde turned the heater up, and glanced behind them, as though their little guest might have taken to following them. “And who, pray tell, are we picking up?”

He exhaled out of his nose. “Stop asking questions.”

“Well, you Seed boys have a habit of leaving crucial information out!” Isolde snapped. “For example: John led me to believe that this encroaching cult was well and done, taken care of, extinguished, eliminated, exorcised—”

“You’re on a tangent.”

“There wasn’t supposed to be anymore,” she said after a moment. “Hunting. Killing. It was—you lot were supposed to be all done, now that you’ve run the folk out of their own home.”

Jacob glanced over at Isolde. Bundled up in thick fabrics, but still blushed from the cold, she looked quite small; for a woman clocking in at five-foot-eleven, he thought he’d never seen Isolde so swallowed-up, wallowing, despondent.

“You got an opinion on that?” Jacob asked dryly.

“You know that I don’t,” she muttered. “Just wish you’d have left the bloody fucking mess behind before I got here, is all.”

“I know it might offend those delicate sensibilities—”

“I’m tired of talking now, Jacob, if you’d like to let me lament the loss of my tranquility in peace.”

It took a lot of self-control to not bite out a response. Naturally, talking and conversation were only convenient when Isolde herself had something to say. It seemed she really hadn’t changed all that much, had she? Maybe it was good that she was here, after all. When John had first mentioned over the phone that she was coming down, he’d pictured that she’d mostly be a hindrance—unnecessary drama, despite the fact that he knew she had every capacity to act professionally—but as of late, Joseph had been...

Well. Out of sorts. Perhaps a slap of a reality check would be good for him.

They drove deep into the Whitetails, far enough out that the radio reception crackled and disappeared, leaving them in silence. The clouds were swollen and gray with unshed snow; threatening, looming with the potential to dump, but not quite there yet. All the snow as of late had been a bit heavier than what he would have anticipated, even for Montana.

“So are you going to tell me who our mystery guest is?” Isolde asked after a while, once he was turning up the long, familiar drive to a house that didn’t belong to him.

He flicked the lights of the truck on as the tree-cover turned the dim, overcast light darker. “Name’s Arden.”

“Very helpful.”

“‘S a vet,” he continued. “Worked in Fall’s End. Couple of years.”

“Like the animal kind?” Isolde pressed.

“Mhm.”

“Very fitting for your brood.”

“Ha-ha.”

Another stretch of silence, another turn up the drive, and then: “So?”

Jacob exhaled through his nose. It was either now, or later, and to be honest, he thought he might prefer delaying the inevitable over listening to Isolde complain, but he knew that he needed to just rip the bandaid off.

“She’s...” He searched for the word, shifting in the driver’s seat. “My...Partner.”

Isolde was silent for a moment, but he could feel her eyes on him—insistent. Impatient. Incredulous. A variety of other i-words that properly encapsulated whatever flurry of emotion she was feeling at that moment.

“As in—” Isolde stopped. “Romantic?”

“I guess,” he said.

“You guess?” She scoffed, but her voice was a bit lighter now, lifted by the curiosity. “Is she cute?”

Jacob stared ahead. That detail felt like it went without saying.

“Smart?” Sol prompted. “Funny? Makes you smile? Inspires in you the desire to procreate?”

“We have dogs,” he replied, “together.”

“Oh, if that’s all.”

He muttered, “This is worse,” under his breath, drawing her eyes back to him—as though she had ever stopped trying to pick him apart while this excruciating piece of conversation dragged on—and she cocked her head to the side.

“Worse than what?”

“You complaining,” Jacob said plainly. “You can go back to that, if you want.”

Isolde purred, “No, I think I’ll stick with interrogation.”

He shot her a dry side-glance, lips pressing into a thin line. This wasn’t supposed to be how this went—this whole...Interaction. Introduction. He certainly never pictured that Isolde would have been the first person to meet Arden as his partner, and not Hope County’s veterinarian, but. Well.

Nothing to be done about it now.

He put the truck in park as soon as they’d pulled in front of a small, tidy cabin, far enough out that you’d have to know where to go to find it—it wasn’t something that would just be stumbled across. By now, the late afternoon had started to turn murky; what little overcast light had been making it through the boughs was nearly strangled now by the approaching nightfall.

“Stay,” Jacob said, leaving the keys in.

“Do not speak to me like a dog, Jacob.”

He turned his head to look at her, expression pulling tight. She sniffed.

“Fine.”

“Thank you.”

He got out of the truck, slamming the driver’s side door and trudging through the snow—only half-shoveled—up to the front door. Through the window and the curtains, he saw the cut of amber light from the reading lamp he knew was by the door, the tangle of warm limbs barely kept under a knit throw blanket. It was a bit too comfortable, in there; too easy to remember the times he’d come to this house just like this, skim his hands under the blanket as he sank into that couch. The last few months had been a bit more demanding than he’d anticipated.

Just as he reached for the door, it swung open with a happy creak, and he was greeted by a familiar face. Just not the one he wanted.

“Well, if it isn’t the big man himself!” the dark-haired man greeted, chirping happily. “Good evening, captain. We were anticipating your arrival.”

“Santiago,” Jacob replied flatly. He gestured with one hand, an indication he was ready to come inside. Santiago flashed a charming grin and made a sweeping motion as he stepped to one side. It had been two months of having John’s favorite lapdog watching after Arden, and two months of hearing the Faithful’s infuriating voice over the radio every time he tried to touch base.

It was all easily forgotten, even as Santiago chattered in the background, saying something elaborate and useless as he made his way into the living room and spotted her; just like he’d glimpsed through the window, Arden was curled up on the couch, book in hand, reading lamp on and dogs asleep on the floor.

The beasts—glossy, long-haired Belgian Shepherds named Castor and Pollux—lifted their heads almost simultaneously, regarded Jacob, and then wagged tufted tails against the floor. They only looked at him for a second before their pointed snouts turned expectantly toward Arden.

She said something, quick and soft and foreign, and they leaped to their feet immediately to crowd him, large enough that their heads tilted to gaze at him reached past his hip bones even while they obediently remained on all-fours.

“Boys are sleeping on the job,” Jacob said gruffly as he gave them each two quick pets, lifting his gaze from the dogs to Arden. The corners of her mouth ticked upward, amused.

“They’re on break. State-mandated.” Her head tilted, loose curls framing her face where they’d fallen out of her bun. “Santi and I heard some chatter on the radio. Fifteen, huh?”

He grimaced, just for a second. His hands itched—to card through her hair, to tilt her face up—but he stayed where he was and instead watched as she came to a stand, tossing her book onto the couch. There were a lot of things that he thought about saying; questions beyond what their brief conversations had been, things that had been sitting on his mind.

Are you happy? Are you happy with this world I’m preparing us for?

“I’m taking you to the compound,” is what he said instead.

Arden laughed, reaching up to cup his jaw. “I figured you wouldn’t be rolling up to my house near-dark after two months of forcing me to cohabitate with Santiago just for fun.”

“In preparation,” Santiago intoned dutifully from the kitchen, sounding like his mouth was full, “for our rapidly impending marriage, cariña.”

“Enough,” Jacob interjected, “out of you, Vidal. Arden, is your stuff ready?”

“Yes, I packed.” She moved to the window, hoisting a bag off of the ground and glancing out through the glass. “Who’d you bring?”

Jacob took in a breath. Too much was going on, and not enough was happening in the way that he wanted it to. The stranger with a precise shot was still hungering in the back of his mind for his attention. When he’d dropped John’s little attack dog here two months ago, he’d intended his next stop-by to be taking Arden to the bunker. Elliot’s killing spree had only made that time longer, and then the Family had rolled into town, and now—

Well, now he was tired of looking for reasons to delay bringing her home, and just needed the one to do so.

As Santiago began gathering his things—decidedly less ready than Arden was—he crossed the room to where she was, turning her face from the window and back toward him.

“Oh,” she said, pleasantly. “Hello.”

“You get whatever you want,” he murmured, “for putting up with that incessant chatter.”

“One thing? Or many things?”

“Negotiable.” He grimaced. “Depending.”

She flashed a smile, tilted her head, and kissed the palm of his hand. “Hm. Brave of you.”

“Dr. Hale,” he rumbled, voice pitching low, watching the way her lashes fluttered prettily and her chin tilted. Expectant. But not yet, Jacob thinks. Not yet. “Are you plotting to extort me?”

Arden’s chin tilted out of his grasp, and she squirmed out from between him and the window, slick as can be despite her height. The woman was all wiry muscle, quick and precise movements, nothing wasted and nothing tossed aside. “Perhaps,” she replied over her shoulder, “but it wouldn’t be plotting if I told you, now would it?”

“What’s the word for ‘here’?” Santi asked from the hallway. “You know, for the hounds?”

Arden’s attention turned back to the brunette, and she patted his shoulder. “If I told you what it was,” she said, “they wouldn’t be very effective protection dogs, would they?”

“I think you mean attack dogs.”

“Interchangeable,” she acquiesced. “Are you packed, Santi?”

He grinned, glancing at Jacob. “Is just stuff, no? I am not interested in the material.”

Her gaze flickered to Jacob, a look of, oh, is that so? before she told Santiago, “Well, out into the truck with you, then. Dogs.”

She didn’t say the command, but whistled, sending them racing out the door excitedly around Santiago. When he’d followed suit and Arden had turned the lights off in the house, making her own way to the front door, Jacob reached for her and snagged her hand to turn her back around.

A second passed. She waited expectantly.

“I haven’t told them,” Jacob said after a minute. Arden’s wrist slipped through his grip, catching at the base of her hand.

“About the fifteen dead men?” she asked. “Don’t you think that’s important?”

His eyes flickered over the shape of her face; in the dark, he could still pick out the planes of her cheekbones, the dip of her nose, the cupid’s bow of her lips. He’d traced just those things with his hands and mouth plenty of times before. “About you.”

Arden said, “Oh.”

Jacob waited for a second longer, but when he couldn’t pick out any emotion besides, perhaps, confusion on her face, he prompted, “Oh?”

“Well, I just don’t see how that’s pertinent right now,” Arden replied plainly. “People are getting killed.”

Per usual, even after over a year of being together, she somehow managed to completely unseat him. Trying not to sound frustrated, he elaborated, “I just thought you should know, Joseph and John and Faith don’t...”

Jacob felt his voice trail off; Arden tilted her head inquisitively, like she didn’t quite see the point in the conversation being dragged on. He never felt like he was dragging on a conversation, except with her—the woman trimmed the fat out of every interaction down to the barebones, if she could.

“They don’t know,” he finished. “Also, Isolde’s in the car. John’s old business partner.”

“Damage control,” Arden said.

“Damage control,” Jacob agreed.

The blonde gave his hand a quick squeeze, tugging him forward and, as though they hadn’t been apart for two months, as though he had not admitted to keeping her his very own special secret for this long, she kissed him. It was quick—a brush of their lips, fast and easy and not at all wanting, as though he’d never been gone at all—before she turned away and stepped out the door, waving in the headlights.

Jacob locked the door behind him, out of habit rather than necessity. As Arden loaded the dogs into the back and then her bag as well, he opened the back door of the truck to where Santiago had already climbed in.

“Hurry in, guapa, you’ll catch cold,” the brunette said, beckoning Arden in as though she weren’t in the process of climbing in already.

She smiled wryly, puffing the air out as she hoisted herself inside and kicked the snow off of her boots. “Thank you, Santi, for your concern.”

Jacob rolled his eyes, closing the door behind Arden and then settling himself back into the driver’s seat. There were about forty-five seconds of blissful silence as he navigated back down the driver before Santiago cleared his throat.

“So, Jacob, who is your friend?” he asked. His voice was sly, but Jacob stifled the urge to tell him to shut up. He’d probably go whining to John that he’d done Jacob a favor only to get bullied for it.

“This is Isolde,” Jacob said, gesturing at the woman in the passenger seat. “John’s mommy.”

Santi let out a low, little whistle, and said wistfully, “Ah, I have always wanted to meet the woman who raised our John.”

Isolde’s expression twisted something vicious. “I’d kill myself if I had to bear that fucker in my womb.”

“You took care of him while he was in Atlanta,” Jacob pointed out. “Cleaned up his messes in the courtroom. Set him on the straight and narrow. Sounds like a mother to me.”

“Ugh,” was her reply. He knew the kinds of things that John had been up to in Atlanta—post-grad, the youngest brother had been in poor shape. Looking for fulfillment in all the wrong places. If Isolde hadn’t nipped that shit in the bud, who knew where John would have been when they’d rounded him up? He’d never heard John say anything more than he’d said “I have to ask Isolde...” back when they’d been going to school and working together, but he imagined that once they had opened the firm together, spending weekends high out of his fucking mind wasn’t much of an option anymore.

Not, at least, for someone who was going to be doing business with Isolde’s name attached. She was a tidy little control freak like that.

“Oh,” Arden said, her face lighting up with curiosity, “you’re Joseph’s Isolde too?”

“Ugh.”

Jacob flashed Arden a grin through the rearview mirror, carefully turning the truck back onto a road that was more....Well, road than what they had been going on, not quite to the highway yet but close. He’d just have to get back to the compound. Get back to the compound, get Arden and Isolde settled in, and then he could go on the hunt.

It was becoming, unfortunately, more and more of a chore to keep things under control as time went on. Joseph wasn’t helping, and while John’s energy was not typically the “calm and efficient” kind, he at least had been propelled to take action. Of course, that action had ended up being more trouble than it was worth, and—

His brain was turning in circles, over and over again, a snake latched on to its own tail. It was almost deafening, to try and listen to Arden asking Isolde questions—what Joseph was like “back then”, about what it was like to work with John, how was her flight from Georgia—was she liking Montana? You know, aside from the killing and whatnot?—while his brain replayed the same loop. Would be easier if John was here, it said, would be easier if John was here to cause more problems and then try to clean them up. At least someone would be doing something, right?

Get back to the compound. Get everyone settled. Then he could make a plan.

And boy, was he going to fucking need one.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

By the time they had gotten back to the compound, Isolde felt like she was in a pretty good mood. Pretty good, at least, for getting shot at and realizing you’d been duped by someone who shouldn’t have had the audacity to try and dupe you at all.

The fact of the matter was that John knew better—he knew better than to lie by omission to her, because she was always going to find out that he’d done it one way or another, and yet he’d done it anyway. Their time apart had made John bold in his disrespect of her, and that was something that just was going to have to get immediately remedied.

Well, as immediate as possible, given that she was in the middle of bumfuck-nowhere-Montana with only a lick of cell service.

“It’s been really fun,” Isolde announced, climbing out of the truck’s passenger side as everyone else disembarked. Santiago had swung around the back to let the dogs out and haul Arden’s bag out. “I’m going to go sit in my rudimentary shack and pretend like today didn’t happen.”

Santi flashed her a wide, toothy smile. “I have an alcoholic beverage that may assist in forgetting.”

“I bet that you do.”

“Sol,” Jacob said, drawing her attention to him; he tilted his head, indicating the chapel where she knew Joseph was likely waiting to hear back about the things they’d seen. She felt her shoulders shag.

“Don’t become my least favorite Seed.”

“He’ll want to know,” the redhead cautioned. “See for himself you’re fine.”

“I’m not,” she snapped, “fine, and if I’m being honest—”

“You always are, in my experience.”

“—the last person I want to be making feel good is your brother.”

Jacob said, “I’m the one that’s going to suffer for it.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. The eldest Seed shrugged his shoulders and started heading toward the chapel, nudging Arden ahead of him in a gesture that was both affectionate and protective; that was nearly the strangest thing to come out of the day. Aside from their newcomer trying to make their own live-action version of The Most Dangerous Game.

“Fine!” Isolde relented at last, trudging after them. “I must be fucking insane, to keep helping you lot.” And then, as though to comfort herself: “You’d probably muck up the details, anyway.”

Jacob flashed her a smile over his shoulder. “Practically family at this point.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

The inside of the chapel was degrees warmer—so much so that Isolde hadn’t realized how cold she actually was until she was within range of the space heater rattling laboriously, the sound bouncing between the wood paneling of the walls and ceiling. Joseph was sitting on one of the benches a few rows back from the front, head bowed and cradled against the fold of his hands. A young blonde woman sat beside him, but rather than bent at the waist, her face was lifted, like she was drinking in whatever light and warmth she could get.

Suffused in the amber glow of candlelight from different little pockets around the chapel, he did strike a Renaissance-esque silhouette. Faithful In Repose, or something like that.

It wasn’t until Jacob said, a few feet away, “We’re back,” that Joseph’s head lifted and he came to a stand. His expression looked mutedly relieved—like perhaps he was trying to not appear too relieved.

“I was worried,” he sighed, reaching up to plant his hands on Jacob’s shoulders, “when I heard your radio call. We both were. Fifteen of ours, you say?”

“I think so, anyway,” Jacob replied, not moving to return the physical gesture but not brushing it off, either. “I’m going to go back out after I get Arden settled and get an actual headcount. Hopefully track down the person we saw.”

“Good,” Joseph murmured, and then paused, his gaze flickering to the honeyed blonde standing just behind Jacob. “Arden?”

“Hi,” she greeted, reaching around and offering her hand to Joseph. “Arden Hale.”

His gaze looked inquisitively to Jacob. It was excruciating for Isolde to watch it, the confusion on his face as he took Arden’s hand in his and said, “I remember you, from before, don’t I?”

“Probably,” she agreed with a little smile. “But only in passing. I ran the vet clinic.”

“That’s right!” the younger blonde exclaimed, her face lighting up. “I remember you for sure.” She paused. “I was Rachel, back when we met.”

“I remember you too, Faith.” Arden’s smile was light and friendly, despite the fact that she referred to what had been her livelihood in the past tense rather than present tense. It was a painful reminder that they had run the other people with livelihoods out of Hope County—and that it didn’t seem to bother or unsettle Arden at all was enough to make Isolde wonder.

“And you—?” Joseph paused, clearly trying to keep some kind of cool, calm, and collect as he muddled through a thing that his brother was offering no explanation on. “Jacob just, ah...Picked you up?”

“Yes,” Arden replied politely.

Joseph’s gaze darted back to Jacob. He waited a heartbeat for her to elaborate, and when she didn’t, he said, “I see.”

“Do you?” Isolde prompted, because maybe she was gleaning a bit of enjoyment out of seeing Joseph on the brink of squirming. She knew him well enough to tell he was furiously stuffing down a mounting frustration—Arden, quick and to the point and unwilling to waste time on elaborating something she probably thought wasn’t important, and Jacob, tight-lipped and ready to leave.

Now she knew why Jacob hadn’t wanted to say anything. He’d been keeping Arden for himself, and now this stranger on the hunt had forced his hand.

“So,” Jacob said after a moment, “I’m going to get Arden settled. Sol, bunk with you?”

“Sure,” she replied, only managing to barely contain her delight at having figured out a dynamic in which Joseph was at a disadvantage. “I’d welcome the company of someone other than a Seed.”

“I’ll help,” the girl, who Arden had referred to as Faith, offered. “I could use a good stretch, and I can’t wait to catch up, Arden.”

Jacob made a low noise, something like uh-huh but more displeased, before he turned on his heel and started marching resolutely back to the door, Faith chatting excitedly with Arden as they followed.

Before he could reach the door, Joseph said, “Jacob?”

The redhead paused, turning to look back at them.

“When you have a minute,” he continued, “I’d like a word.”

Jacob’s mouth set into a firm line. He didn’t respond, but gave one short nod before he stepped outside and ushered Faith and Arden out ahead of him.

Isolde watched them go for one heartbeat before she began, “It’s refreshing to see you squirm, Joseph.”

“You always were a little spiteful,” Joseph agreed, his voice mild despite the barb in the words. Isolde’s gaze snapped back to him, head tilted in defiance.

“Don’t deny me my pleasures.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Another moment of silence passed, one where Joseph’s gaze took a leisurely journey over her—too leisurely to have been anything less than admiring—before he said, “I was worried, you know.”

“Well,” Sol replied tartly, “we were getting shot at.”

“You shouldn’t be leaving the compound,” he continued, his voice a bit firmer now, “not while we’re not sure that the Family isn’t still around. Jacob is capable...” Isolde waited for him to finish his thought, to tack on the contingency, but all he said was, “Enough, for himself.”

“I don’t think you have any grounds to be telling me to do anything.”

The words left her mouth coiled tight and unforgiving. Joseph had always been in the bad habit of that—telling her, rather than asking her or suggesting to her; as though his suggestions should be taken as gospel and phrased them as such. Even back then—

I want you to marry me. I want you to be my wife, Soli.

—it had been a demand, not an ask. Not a request—but something that was almost enough to be a command.

The man let out a small, short breath, looking at her for a moment in a way that was almost wary. Good, she thought, you should be wary of me.

“I know,” he began, “that we didn’t leave things on the best of terms...”

His voice trailed off, like he intended to let her interrupt him. Isolde crossed her arms over her chest and waited expectantly.

“But I meant what I said.” Joseph fixed her with his eyes—infuriatingly blue, disgustingly blue. “That I’m happy you’re here.”

“And I meant what I said,” she replied tightly, “that you should be.”

Joseph sighed, “I don’t want to argue with you.”

“Then I don’t know why you opened your mouth in the first place—”

“Isolde,” and now he finally sounded a little frustrated, the tone bleeding into his voice. “We have to be on the same side, if you’re going to be here.”

She knew what that meant. She knew that what he was saying was, if you’re going to fight me at every turn, then there’s no reason for you to be here. But he was wrong about that; it was all the more reason for her to be there, to keep him in check, because clearly, nobody else was. Even Jacob, who should have had every reason to want to share this apparent relationship he’d been having, had kept it a secret from Joseph. And what did that say about him? What did that say about the person he’d become?

“I thought of you often,” he continued, his voice pitching a little lower now, taking a step forward. “And the mistakes that I made. That we both—” Joseph paused, his eyes flickering down to her mouth for a split second before lifting back to meet her gaze. “—made.”

Don’t fucking do it, she thought, watching him lift his hand to sweep the hair away from her shoulder in the affectionate gesture he had done so many times before then. If she let him, maybe he would follow up the way he had done so many times before all of this; he would have dragged his fingers along the pillar of her throat, pressed his mouth to the hollow under her jaw, sweet girl, my Soli, so gorgeous, and—

“Well, I didn’t,” Isolde replied, stepping away from him before his hand could make contact, before he could try and suck her back into the world that he’d had her in before. They were different now—she had known a Joseph before Eden’s Gate, and he had known an Isolde before Eden’s Gate, and all that had happened between was well and buried and done away with. “Think of you. At all.”

She focused on the door waiting for her, to take her out of the chapel and out of the romantic amber glow drenching the handsome features of Joseph’s face, to take her away from the cloying words. It couldn’t feel genuine coming from him, not right now. Not anymore.

“I don’t believe you,” is what he said, called after her just as she slammed the door behind her. “Not after the things I’ve done for you.”

The things I’ve done for you, he said. Fucker.

More like the things he’d done for himself.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The house was quiet when they returned. Scarlet must have retired early this evening; those nights that he’d spent sleeping in his car just down the street, he’d seen the light on in the downstairs living room well into the night, but the clock was only barely cresting eleven.

As they walked inside, Boomer lifted his head from where he’d been sleeping on the floor, stretched out in front of the couch. The Heeler’s tail thumped against the floor a few times, and then a low growl pitched out of him upon first seeing John come through the door again—only to have it waved away and quieted by a gesture of Elliot’s hand.

“Elliot,” he started, closing and locking the front door behind him, “are you sure you don’t—”

“I really—” Elliot’s voice tightened, wobbling sharp and tense. “—really need you to shut the fuck up.”

John had become familiar with the way that she said things; the difference between a casual shut the fuck up and the cadence of this, I need you to, so close to the thing he wanted her to say the most but only available to him now if he dredged it up from his memories. So he did as she asked and closed his mouth, instead contenting himself with replaying that parsed little clip of her words over again in his head.

I need you. He could fool himself, trick his brain into thinking as she hung the jacket up, the dips of her face shadowed by what little amber light was glowing from the one lamp left on in the living room. Just like she’d done it before—that night, before the scar. Before her lie. John, I want you so badly, I need you, I need you John, saying it against his mouth in a kiss and driving her nails into him like she wanted to leave a mark that wouldn’t fade, like she wanted him to think of her, always.

I do, he thought absently, jostled out of his near-daydream when she brushed past him to head for the stairs, the hound trailing at her feet protectively. Think of you, always.

“Could sleep in my bed,” he suggested, following a foot or two behind in case she decided to swing. “If you’re feeling out of sorts.”

“Is that what you think I’m feeling, John?” Elliot’s voice carried with it an idle kind of venom, the words barely above a whisper and tossed over her shoulder. It was a loaded question, of course. There was no right answer. In fact, it was more of a threat than anything. “I’m just dying to get some insight from the person who has clearly never read me wrong.”

He didn’t stop when she did; instead, he carried himself all the way to the landing that she paused at until there was hardly any space left between them, where he could still smell the wild winter blushing her cheeks and chilling her skin.

“I just remember,” he tried again, remaining casual, “you always seemed to sleep much better with a body next to you.” And then, pointedly: “A live one. Human and not dog-shaped.”

“Frankly, I don’t think you know a fucking thing about me,” the redhead snipped out.

“Well, we both know that isn’t true.” His eyes flickered over her; the urge to reach up and card his fingers through her hair, glide the pad of his thumb from her chin down into the hollow of her throat stung hard and bright in his chest, flowering with want. “I think we know each other quite intimately, you and I.”

“Fucking,” she hissed, “does not equate intimacy.”

“But it did.” John felt his mouth tick up at the corner. “For you. For us.”

Something vicious twisted her mouth. I know you, he wanted to say, but knew that he shouldn’t because it would only incense her further—he was having to straddle a very thin line. I know you, Elliot Honeysett, and I know we were fucking made for each other and you’re going to see it, too. One way or another.

“I only,” he continued, reaching up slowly and waiting for her to balk, “wanted to offer it.”

She didn’t jerk away from his touch, but before he could tuck the coppery strand behind her ear she had leaned away from him, shrugging off the affection. For a moment, her lashes fluttered, her expression changing into something he almost didn’t recognize. It took him a second to realize that she was considering, that it wasn’t blatant rejection just vibrating under her skin but something else. The times that Elliot had wanted him the most had always been when she was looking for comfort, and the gentle tremor in her hands that she tried to bury into her crossed arms, the way she was making a concerted effort to keep her breathing steady—she wanted him, as she had before.

It was a tiny, tiny little thrill, only a degree closer to what he wanted, but it was there nonetheless.

“No,” she said finally, doing that infuriating thing she did when she turned her eyes away from him—like she wanted to deprive him of her attention, her hand brushing his out of immediate reach of her. “I don’t want to sleep in your bed.”

“Alright,” he replied agreeably, even as every bone in his body disagreed with her decision. He stepped around her, heading up the stairs to the hallway that led to the guest bedroom. “But if you have a bad dream and want someone to hold you—”

“I won’t.”

“—you know where to find me,” John added playfully over his shoulder. Her footsteps drifted after him against the thick carpet, swallowed up by the high ceilings of the house.

“I hate you,” she bit out, her voice still soft so as not to rouse her mother.

John tried very hard not to smile. “I’ve told you once before, you need a catchphrase you can sound like you actually believe,” he told her. “That one just doesn’t hit the same anymore.”

She shot him a stormy, murderous look before brushing past him to reach the end of the hall where her bedroom was. Boomer darted ahead of her, eager to be in bed; John said, “Goodnight, Ell,” from the distance that kept them separated.

Elliot was halfway through the door to her bedroom when she said, “Eat shit, John.”

He shut the bedroom door behind him just enough to leave it cracked—Elliot still hadn’t come clean about the sleepwalking, but he still knew, and that meant he couldn’t have his wife and his unborn child traipsing around in the snow and potentially getting hypothermia while he was asleep.

It wasn’t until he’d undressed into more comfortable clothing that he crawled into the bed and realized how exhausted he really was; the adrenaline that had flooded his system at Elliot’s apparent panic had died out now, leaving him feeling hollowed out and a little empty.

John couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe Weyfield wasn’t as good for Elliot as she had wanted, and though that meant she would suffer for now, it would make their return to Hope County all the better; for him, and for her.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He tossed and turned for a few hours, and found himself dredged out of his state of half-asleep by the jarring sound of his phone going off. John glanced over at the nightstand where it was vibrating, dull and insistent, against the wood. With no numbers saved as contacts in his phone, it was almost impossible to tell who it was, which always made it a bit of an uneasy endeavor when it came to picking up an unknown call.

Sitting up in bed blearily, he reached over and hesitated for just a minute before he hit the accept call button, bringing it to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hi, Johnny.” It was Isolde. Her voice sounded tight, uncomfortable. “How’s Georgia? Hm? Everything good?”

He hesitated again, but for a different reason this time; Sol’s voice was heavily implying something was wrong, and John was not privy just yet to what it was that had put her on edge. “It’s good,” he said, climbing out of bed and wandering to glance out the window. The night outside was peaceful—or as peaceful as it could look, with the dark treeline looming in his vision and the swollen clouds threatening another downpouring of snow.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s...progressing,” he ventured, still half-asleep and clearing his throat. “Slowly, but I think I—”

“That’s good. That’s really, really good, honey. Hey, John? By the way, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Ah. So she was mad.

John opened his mouth to respond when Isolde plunged on, her voice pitching in a reckless kind of vibration, “I told you not to fucking lie to me. That means by omission.”

“Well, now—”

“I came out here out of the kindness of my fucking heart, you asshole. I fucking—they should be calling me Mother Fucking Theresa for the shit I’ve done for you, and you have the audacity to not only neglect to tell me that you didn’t know for sure the cult was done with but that your wife doesn’t want you? You’re hunting this girl across states and she fucking turned you in to the goddamn government?”

John grimaced. He was going to have to chat with Jacob and Joseph about how much information they were deciding to divulge with people. People, like Isolde, who didn’t need to know that his and Elliot’s relationship had ended on more than just “bad terms” and that the gap to heal it was actually much, much larger than perhaps he had implied.

“Also, can’t ignore the fact that you were in government custody at one point but your fucking cockroaches killed government officials to get you out—”

He started, “Sol—”

“No no no, do not fucking ‘Sol’ me, baby—I almost got fucking shot today. I watched someone hunt your fucking homeless population for sport and then make a very clear threat to do the same for me. And the worst part of it is that I’m not even that mad about that bloody bit, but—”

The sound of a door dragging against the carpet wobbled through the air, half-masked by his own closed door and the gentle whirr of the heater kicking on. He glanced blearily a the clock on the nightstand. It blinked 3:27 AM at him, and as he walked to the door and peeked out into the hallway, he saw that Elliot was wandering down the stairs.

Sol chattered viciously in his ear, but he wasn’t hearing it anymore; Ell moved leisurely, a pace that was unhurried, swaying on her feet a little as she came to a stop at the front door of the house and wandering in pajama shorts and an over-sized sweatshirt.

“Hold on,” John said, interrupting Sol’s tirade. “Something’s—can you hold on a second? Something’s wrong.”

“Oh? Yeah? Really? Something’s wrong? You fucking idiot—”

In her haze, Elliot tried to pull the door open. Her hand fumbled tiredly, clumsily with the lock, but the coordination needed to undo it just wasn’t there.

“I gotta go,” he murmured into the phone. “Listen, Sol, I’ll call you back in the morning—bye.”

Isolde’s indignation did not go unnoticed, but it did go unanswered as he hit the end call button and put the phone volume on mute, tossing it onto the bed as he made his way down the stairs. Elliot seemed to have given up trying to unlock the door and now tugged absently against the handle, staring out through the glass front; from the stairs, he could hear that she was whispering something, but not what it was.

“Ell?” John whispered, coming closer. He wasn’t supposed to wake a sleepwalker, right? Gently, he reached up to try and disengage her hand from the curved door handle. Her voice was still so soft that he almost couldn’t hear what was she whispering, but —

“...can’t,” Elliot was saying, to the glass—to the door—to someone or something on the other side of it. “Can’t let you in.”

“Baby,” he said, uncurling her fingers from around the curve of cool metal, “come on. Let’s get you back to bed.”

Her head snapped, mechanical and machine-like, to fix her gaze on him; the movement almost made him jump it was so precise, like she had just only realized he was there beside her. Though her eyes were open, they were glassy and drifted absently, never once staying in one spot for very long but never straying very far from his face.

“She keeps asking,” Ell told him, letting him take her hand away from the door and blinking, her brows pinching together at the center of her forehead. “She keeps asking me to let her in. She misses me.”

“Who?” He didn’t know that he really wanted to know the answer to the question, but it came out of him anyway—maybe the morbid curiosity of wanting to know what it was she saw in her dreams when she did this sort of thing, and maybe because he’d never been the type of person who could leave a door unopened.

As he guided her carefully to the stairs, their progress halting and uneasy, Elliot said pleasantly, “I told Joey I can’t let her in.”

He felt his skin prickle, dread crawling up his spine. He knew it. He knew he didn’t want to know the answer and he’d asked anyway, and now John would have to go to sleep with the knowledge that at least in her dreams, Elliot was seeing her dead best friend. Outside of her house.

“But I don’t want to,” the redhead continued. “She keeps asking me, but I don’t want to. She doesn’t have a face.”

His stomach churned violently. “Let’s go to bed,” he murmured, helping her up the stairs and to the guest room, pulling the blankets aside. His phone blinked with several missed calls from the same number—likely Isolde, raging mad he’d hung up on her. “Easy now, Ell.”

“She’s waiting for me,” Elliot whispered, like she was sharing a secret with him, her voice bridging mournful and gutted. “Joey’s waiting for me. She’s waiting outside. I have to let her in, or she won’t let me sleep.”

He pulled the blankets aside, trying to brush off the dread that really hit him the second he heard Elliot say she won’t let me sleep. Once she was laying down in the bed, her lashes fluttered unsteadily, her hand gripping John’s loosely.

Out from the hallway, he heard a low whine. Boomer had stirred at the sound of their hushed voices and now stood in the doorway of the bedroom; when John turned and looked at him, the Heeler let out a low growl, threatening.

“Well, come on,” John whispered impatiently at the dog, “if you’re going to come in.”

Boomer turned his head. It was the most effective side-eye he’d seen a dog perform in a long time.

“I have to,” Elliot whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears now. “I’m so tired, and she won’t let me sleep.”

“It’s okay,” he told her, even though his stomach wrenched a little at her words again, this eerie mantra that insisted on coming out of her now. “You can sleep.”

A little paranoid, he glanced towards the window—but it was empty, devoid of looming corpses or monsters peeking furred faces in through the panes. Don’t be stupid, he thought to himself, moving to the window and reaching for the curtains. Nothing out there. Just Elliot having bad dreams.

He gave the forest, bathed in cold moonlight diffused and filtered through the cloud cover, a final glance over. And for one split second, he was sure he saw something move, scrambling up a tree and shaking the pine boughs in a flash of pale limbs and bony protrusions and—

The dread returned. Cold, trickling down his spine like an IV drip. Just an animal, he told himself, as though the movement did not look like some two-legged humanoid monster scaling the side of a tree with the ease of a spider. Just an animal.

“Come on, beastie, we haven’t got all night,” he said, drawing the curtains closed firmly and waving at Boomer. The dog seemed appeased by this and came in, immediately hopping up to curl roll-shaped in the crook of Elliot’s knees. With the bedroom door shut and the curtains drawn, and Elliot having drifted back to sleep, the room finally felt quiet again.

John slid into bed pulling the blanket up and exhaling a breath.

She doesn’t have a face.

She’s waiting for me.

She won’t let me sleep.

Troubling, that she was seeing these things in her sleep. That she was seeing dogs with human faces. That she was seeing anything at all. It was almost the same as when she’d been drugged up to the gills by the Family and their weird earthy drug—not unlike Bliss, but with some more uncomfortable properties to it.

It wasn’t possible that she was still being affected by it, was it? This far away from Hope County, this long after she’d been experiencing the actual active effects of the drug they’d been plying her with?

Beside him, Elliot stirred, shifting until she’d rolled over to face him. Beneath her eyelids, in the dark, he could see her eyes move restlessly; still dreaming, even now, even after all of that.

What’s going on in that brain of yours? He thought absently, reaching up and brushing a strand of hair from her face as she slept.

What aren’t you telling me?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When Elliot awoke the next morning, it was in a foreign bed.

She didn’t realize it, not right away; the first thing that struck her as odd was that a familiar smell washed over her, one that broke through the haze of slumber just a little, just enough to make her stir. It was like a memory—was she dreaming? Was she in a dream?

Stop squirming, breathed against the nape of her neck, the comfortable weight of an arm over her, locking her in place. I’m trying to sleep.

“Wh—?” Elliot felt the noise, garbled with a sudden surge of panic, muddle in her mouth viciously as she lurched into a sitting position. Her head swam; her stomach rolled with unspent nausea (yet one more reminder of her poor decision-making); but when she moved, so too did Boomer, leaping off of the bed and instantly alert.

And so did another body next to her.

She swung blindly at first, a knee-jerk reaction, and only barely registered that it was John in the bed with her, having caught her wrist and stopped her from clotheslining him straight in the trachea.

“Easy, Elliot!” he exclaimed, his voice hoarse from sleep.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she demanded, yanking her hand out of his grip. “How did—when did I—”

“Take a breath,” John cautioned, and instantly that hyper-awareness and panic was laser-focused, pin-pointed on the one thing that managed to be a tangible bane of her existence.

“Fuck you?” she said, incredulously. “Explain to me how I ended up in your fucking—”

“Elliot, you were sleepwalking,” he snipped. “I caught you trying to walk outside.”

She blinked at him, trying to process his words through a haze of blood rushing through her head and alarm bells sounding off rapidly. It was getting, she thought somewhere in the back of her mind, harder and harder to turn them off—to convince her brain that she wasn’t in immediate danger anymore, when she had identified a situation properly.

John is a threat? her muddled brain tried to parse through as she took in the scars and tattoos she had traced before—

(with her fingers with her mouth, while he knotted his fingers in her hair and sighed, please Ell please I’ll give you anything I’ll do anything)

—committed to memory.

Not a threat, she affirmed after a moment, lifting her eyes to his. Not a threat in the least.

“Okay?” he asked her, brows lifted. “Are we okay?”

“Why didn’t you just put me back in my bed?” she gritted out. “If you caught me sleepwalking.”

“And risk the beast ripping my hands off for coming into his territory? No, thanks.”

“Seems fine now.”

“Well,” John relented, “I invited him in.”

She rolled her eyes. Pushing the blankets off of her legs, Elliot passed her hands over her face, willing the alarm bells off. Red alert! Red alert! they screamed, over and over; we’re in danger, dig your heels in and sink your teeth in and tear tear tear—

The sound of the sheets rustling forced its way through the warning bells behind her just before John said, “You were talking too, last night.”

Elliot stopped, turning to look at him over her shoulder, eyes narrowed. “I suppose I said something like, ‘oh, John, I take it all back, please let me love you, I promise I’ll be the perfect cult wife’—”

The brunette lifted his hands in defense. “As ideal as that would have been, that was not the case.”

And then he didn’t say anything. John Seed, who could not possibly have learned how to shut the fuck up overnight, was regarding her very carefully—gauging her, getting a feel for what was going on in her brain. She felt her molars grind.

“Well, spit it out, then.”

John’s mouth twisted for a moment. “You told me you were trying to let Joey in,” he said finally. “That she kept asking you to let her in, but you couldn’t. And—”

A new wave of nausea washed over her. She didn’t think that was true. She didn’t that she had been dreaming about Joey. Had she? No, she would remember if—

(Joey, dirt packed under her nails and the flower blooms spilling out of the cavern of her chest, shaking the door, shaking it shaking it she won’t stop and she’s screaming even though she doesn’t have a mouth, even though her eyes and nose are smoothed out from her face, begging, begging to be let in, please let me in let me in letmeinletme—)

“—said she didn’t have a face,” he continued,

(LETMEIN)

“—and she wouldn’t let you sleep—”

(L E T M E I N)

“Um,” Elliot said, feeling faint as her brain dutifully trudged up the nightmarish dream sequence once again. “I don’t—um, I don’t think—”

John’s hand went to her shoulder, squeezing there at the junction between her shoulder and neck; instinctively, her hand flew up, gripping his wrist on a mechanical instinct to dig her nails in and rip his hand off of her.

He stayed firm—watching her, watching her reaction, brows furrowing. We like this, a part of her said, when his fingers splayed warm and calloused against the side of her neck, when her pulse jumped under the touch and the fog cleared a little. We remember this, and we like it.

“You said you were sleeping fine, Ell,” he murmured, his voice low as though not to spook her.

I know, she thought, feeling her lashes flutter as the urge to puke reared its head. I know what I said, I know what I fucking said, I know what I did, I’m not sleeping fine, I can’t remember when I slept fine, I can’t fucking sleep—

“I told you before.” The pad of his thumb swept down the front of her throat, close to the hollow just there; any lower and he’d be touching his handiwork. It was almost comforting, that he knew, that he was intimately familiar. “I’ll give you anything you want. Especially if it means helping you sleep at night.”

She knew that he meant it.

“I want,” she breathed, watching John’s eyes light up, “to punch you in the face so fucking bad.”

John sucked his teeth and regarded her ruefully. “Had me for a minute,” he told her. “Thought you were going to stop being so obtuse.”

“Disappointed?”

“A little, admittedly.”

“It’s good for you. Builds character.”

“You can’t be sleepwalking out of the house, barefoot, in the winter and pregnant,” he said, more firmly.

Her eyes narrowed. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yes, Elliot.”

“No fucking shit? You’re sooo smart, John. Think maybe later, if you have time, you could explain to me how day and night works?” And now she did push his hand off of her—enough familiarity for one morning—and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. “I have to shower and get ready.”

A frown planted itself on his face. “Ready for what?”

“Going to the stables,” she replied, opening the door and letting Boomer out into the hallway.

“I’ll come, too.”

Elliot stopped, blinking at him. “Sorry?”

“I said,” John began, having gotten out of bed and begun pulling his jeans on, “I’ll come too.”

“As much as I love the idea of you getting the shit kicked out of you by a horse—”

She cut herself off. The brunette raised a brow inquisitively—frustratingly distracting shirtless and standing there like he wasn’t the World’s Worst—and she shut her mouth promptly.

Taking John to the stables meant putting him out of his element. It also meant putting him directly in Sylvia’s path—and if there was someone who seemed almost as unimpressed with John as her mother, it was her new friend. She'd never seen him squirm as much as she had when Sylvia had clapped him on the back and said, jury's still out, but don't worry, bud! Like he'd never before had a woman not fall over herself for his attention.

“You know what?” She felt a smile tick the corner of her mouth. Even amidst the morning sickness riling in her stomach and the exhaustion from feeling like she hadn’t slept a wink, it still felt a little good. “Sure. You can come to the stables with me.”

Now it was his turn to narrow his eyes. He had one arm into a button-up when he stopped moving. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Elliot replied pleasantly. “But you’ve gotta do something. You can’t stand in the way. Be useful.”

“I can be useful,” he ventured. “It’s—what? Horses?”

“Yes, John, it is horses.”

“Great. Love them. Love horses. Very cool.”

“Uh-huh.” She eyed him, taking two steps out of the bedroom and then turning around. “And John?”

He let out puff of air, head tilting as he looked at her, having shrugged the other half of the shirt on. “Yes, Elliot?”

Elliot gave him a once-over, grimacing.

“Maybe don’t wear the Versace to the barn.”

[isoscele]

Lumberjanes Week Day 6 - Ghost Stories/Land of Lost Things

.

In Xian’s bullet journal, in purple gel pen, the four of them wrote their last will and testament. It was an incontrovertible fact, said Presley, that they were going to die here. One, it had snowed every single one of the four days they had been here, and showed no signs of stopping. Two, despite their best efforts to ration their fruit leathers and peanut-butter-banana sandwiches, they had run out of food. Three, Ana’s ankle was sprained and they were probably not going to be able to get back up on the cliff they had fallen from. Four, despite what fantasy books said, kids on hiking trips did not actually survive tripping into a desolate, war-torn alternate dimensions, no matter how much moxie and general perseverance they showed.

It was hard to argue with that. So they divvied up their belongings among parents and siblings and pets, taking turns with the pen in a kind of grim ritual.

Once they finished, they surveyed their work.

“Don’t give your rollerblades to Peter,” Ana told Xian. “He’s going to break his collarbone immediately.”

“If I have to become a ghost, I want to spend my afterlife watching Peter eat it in the Walmart parking lot,” Xian said firmly.

The sky here was a kind of burnt-rubber color. The snow kept coming down, so there must have been clouds up there somewhere, but it was difficult to distinguish them from the blank slate of horizon.

There were no plants, no animals, nothing but a long line of snow-covered earth. If you dug down to the surface, as Siobhan had, there was only scorched dirt. There was a little rubble, but not much. As far as otherworldly apocalyptic wastelands went, it was disappointingly barren. There were no helpful clues, or conveniently-placed newspapers with pictures of mushroom clouds. Even the breaks in the landscape looked harsh, a continual jag of cliffs and valleys and something that smelled like it might have been a swamp, a long time ago.

When they’d first set up camp, Siobhan had knelt down to wrap Ana’s ankle and Presley had started clearing space to make a campfire, and so Xian had gone around looking for something to help start it, trudging through the knee-deep snow with her windbreaker tied around her legs to keep herself from getting frostbite.

Mostly, she had been walking towards a massive rupture in the snow that looked like it might have been a felled tree. Probably, it would be too damp to burn, but Presley had mad survivalist skills wrapped up in her little band-geek brain, so maybe she would be able to scrape the bark off or something. Or maybe there would be something they could eat. Even then, back in the halcyon days when they still had two out of four fruit leathers left, that was a pressing concern.

As Xian approached it, though, it started to look less and less like a tree. It was curved in a weird way, and it didn’t have any branches. It took a long time for her to reach it, so by the time she reached out one hand to wipe away the snow, there was a part of her that already knew what she’d find.

It was a rib. More specifically, it was the rib of something that had ribs the size of a school bus. It was picked completely clean of meat, as pristine as a museum exhibition.

Xian had to take a step back and stare at it. It filled her whole vision, and she couldn’t get over how clean it was. Her first thought was scavengers! Her second thought was HUGE scavengers! Her third thought was no, that’s dumb. It’s just old.

Siobhan’s theory had been nuclear war. Presley agreed with her–maybe not with the method, but she thought they were in an alternate dimension that had destroyed itself somehow. Ana had suggested time travel, like they’d tripped into Earth’s first ice age.

But something bad had happened here. With that understanding came a powerful, terrible relief. Of course they were standing on a graveyard too vast and ancient for them to ever understand. Of course this was a place of tragedy. It still was, the white of the ground and the orange of the sky and the way that Presley had said we should find some kindling, as if they were ever going to find any kindling.

Xian had looked at the bone for a moment longer. She thought about how, in horror movies, the characters always tried to find some justification for what was happening to them, had some big why-me breakdown. From an audience’s perspective, though, it was easy to tell who was earmarked for catastrophe. From the moment they stepped onto the screen, they were tasked with telling a story. They were suffering because they were only ones who could tell it. It wasn’t their fault.

Xian didn’t know what that meant about them. They were teenage girls, which could make some sense within certain narratives, but they were teenage girls who were probably not going to get out of here. Girls who were plucky and inquisitive and charming and still would not be saved.

Then again, sometimes the answer to why-me was just you were there. Sometimes, it was as simple as an extinction event, coming to wipe you and everything you knew clean.

Xian turned around and started the long walk back to camp.

.

The hike had been Siobhan’s idea. School had just ended and it was Presley’s last summer before she moved away, so everything was terrifying and big and moved in slow-motion. It felt like every minute the four of them weren’t doing something amazing together was a minute wasted. Siobhan imagined growing up like a skin you shed in reverse. The more you crammed  into those early layers, the harder it was to lose them.

She’d packed the bag, which was another mark on her ledger. If she had brought a first-aid kit, if she had brought more food, if she had brought a second water bottle, things might be different. Never mind that it was only supposed to be a day trip, and her mom would’ve lost her mind if Siobhan had packed for an overnighter.

The third thing that she could never ever be absolved of was that she was the one who saw the fox.

It had streaked through the trees, a blur of formless red, but for a second it had looked at her and–and Siobhan wasn’t exaggerating, time stopped. Its eyes were golden and a million years old, and somehow she had known exactly what it was saying to her.

They’re leaving you they’re leaving you every second they are getting farther away from you and you can’t do anything to stop it and you’re the only one who wants to anyway, you’re the only one selfish enough to ask for forever.

And then time had unstuck and it had leapt back through the trees, and Siobhan had pushed past Ana and almost tripped over Xian and she hadn’t even realized that she had started running, it was more like she knelt into the air and kept going.

She hadn’t realized the others would follow her, but of course they had.

So Siobhan couldn’t sleep. She was cold, and she was hungry, and she was ashamed that during their will-writing she’d made up people to give her things to because she wanted her friends to think that she had friends other than them, that she too had cool cousins in New York and family members she could trust with the contents of her bedroom.

And she was ashamed about everything else, too, every dumb decision she had made in possibly her whole life, and then Presley said “Siobhan?” and she realized she was kind of crying into the snow.

“I’m okay,” Siobhan said, “I’m okay, I’m fine.”

Ana reached out and touched Siobhan’s elbow. Her fingers were cold, but steady, and it did make Siobhan feel better.

“I think I’m gonna go look for food,” Siobhan said. She hadn’t realized she was going to say it until she did, but it felt right. She couldn’t stay here. She couldn’t just lie down and try to sleep through another night that looked exactly identical to the day.

“Okay,” Xian said. She pushed herself onto her elbows and tried to brush some of the snow off her shirt. “We’ll come with you.”

This was how they got into all kinds of world-ending trouble, but Siobhan supposed there were worse things.

She didn’t think she could get any words out if she tried, so instead she reached out and helped Xian get the snow off her shoulders.

.

Ana’s ankle didn’t hurt much anymore, but Presley still stoically bore the task of giving her a piggyback ride. Ana liked this arrangement because Presley would kneel down and wait for Ana to loop her legs around her waist and then she would say, with all the seriousness of a soldier about to pull the knife from his dying comrade’s stomach, I’m going to do it, get ready, get ready, and then she would stand up.

They didn’t have a direction, and none of them were entirely sure which way they had come from, so they were just kind of walking. Most likely, they had already gotten turned around three or four times, but Ana was hoping it would eventually cancel itself out.

But then again, it probably didn’t matter whether they got anywhere new. Already, the snow had probably completely concealed their old campsite. Everywhere they stepped was a new world, fresh and footprintless. Packed with promise.

Presley and Xian were talking, but Ana was a little too tired to follow the conversation. Instead, she tried to catch Siobhan’s eye and silently communicate something deep and necessary to her. She didn’t know what that deep and necessary thing was, but she trusted Siobhan to figure it out.

They walked for a long time without finding any kind of break in the landscape. Ana let herself feel reassured by the steady rhythm of Presley’s footsteps below her, the slow thread of Xian’s voice. It almost felt like home, pacing circles around Siobhan’s trampoline or getting marched to the principal’s office for “disturbing the classroom environment.”

So of course, she was the last one to see the cave.

It looked a little like a wasps’ nest, fat and bulbous and buzzing from the inside out with a pale yellow light. Shadows stretched across the entrance, flickering in stop-motion. The cave, whatever else it meant for them, was inhabited.

Ana looked down at Xian, who tended to be the most genre-savvy of them all. But Xian wasn’t looking at the cave; she was staring into the sky with a look of abject terror on her face.

“Presley,” Ana said. “I think we should–”

Presley locked her arms around Ana’s ankles and took off running towards the cave.

Ana had to duck so they could get inside, pressing the side of her face against Presley’s crown of braids. Then, the light was everywhere, and she had to blink hard to disperse the pink clouds that spotted her vision.

“Oh my God,” Siobhan said from somewhere behind her.

Xian shuffled closer. “What is that?”

In the center of the cave, a candle had burned almost to a stub, giving off the unmistakable smell of pine. Behind it, half-submerged in the pool of light, lay some kind of abomination.

It was a wolf and yet it wasn’t, couldn’t be. It had thick white fur and a distinctly lupine body, but it had human hands, bent and weathered. An old woman’s hands.

Oh Grandmother, Ana thought, inanely. What big teeth you have.

And if it was dead, which it could very well be, it had not been dead for long.

As slow as the shifting of a tectonic plate, it lifted its head and opened one blazing eye. Ana understood with a jolt that it had known they were there the whole time, that it had been listening.

It surveyed them, looking very old and very tired. It locked eyes with Ana. Then it spoke, in a voice so gravelly and ancient that Ana had no problem believing that it had been here for as long as there had been a here to be.

“Kids come with two heads these days?”

“Yes,” Ana said automatically, because even in her mindless terror she had to indulge her favorite hobby, which was tricking old people into believing things about The Youth. “But only the ones who are on social media too much.”

Presley frowned so hard that Ana could feel it from her shoulders, like an earthquake. “That’s not true,” she said. “We’re two separate kids. Stacked on top of each other.”

Wolf Lady huffed and closed her eyes again, apparently done with the conversation.

“Hey!” Siobhan said. “Hey, ma’am, please–can you help us?”

“We fell down a portal,” Presley supplied. “We’ve been here four days, and we’re going to die here.”

Wolf Lady smiled. It was the smile of a rotting jack-o-lantern, and it showed a glint of teeth. “Not a bad place to die,” she said, almost to herself. “But most people deserve better.”

“Do you have food?” Xian had crouched down, like she was speaking to a sleepy child. “Or–or do you know how to get some?”

“No,” Wolf Lady said. “No. You don’t need to get food. You need to get out.”

Silence. Outside, the wind wailed.

“What happened here?” Xian asked. Her voice was tight, thin. “I found these–all these bones.”

“You what?” Siobhan said.

“War,” Wolf Lady said. There was something inarticulable in her voice, a kind of grief that had exhausted all other avenues and therefore had no choice but to live forever in this cave.

“They were huge bones.”

“Big war.” Wolf Lady opened her eyes again. “Maybe you’ve noticed it. Wasn’t the kind of thing you can get out of the carpet. You, two-headed one. Grab my specs.”

“Specs?” Presley said, confused, but Ana tapped her head and then pointed to one edge of the cave, where a pair of thin, cracked glasses had gathered what looked like years’ worth of dust and melted snow.

Xian was the one who picked them up, but she handed them to Ana. On some old impulse, Ana slid them over the bridge of her nose.

Immediately, the world exploded in a paroxysm of color, spreading across the four of them like an oil slick. Wolf Lady seemed to be the center of it, bleeding orange from every inch, but there was so much of it coming from everywhere that Ana had to pull them off again.

“You can use those to get home,” Wolf Lady said, in the tone that one might say you can use salt to improve this soup. “Find the portals. For the love of God, get out of here.”

Ana cradled them against her chest. Siobhan looked openly skeptical, but she hadn’t tried them on. Ana believed that the glasses could do whatever they had to. Could reach through time and bring them back to some soft, scared world where everything they needed was still in one piece.

“Are you coming with us?” Xian asked. Her voice had gone quiet again, the way it did when she already knew the answer. Like when she predicted the endings of movies, the sad, certain everyone dies.

Wolf Lady laughed. As strange and animalistic as the rest of her was, her laugh seemed very human. “A very, very long time ago, I worked at a place where the only rule was that the kids had to make it out okay. The rest of us–well, it depended on how the forest felt. But we made it a long time, on that rule. I’m not breaking it now.”

“Thank you,” Presley said. Every word out of Presley’s mouth had an incredible gravity to it even in the silliest of situations; now, Ana could hardly bear to hear it. “We’ll remember you forever.”

“Oh, don’t do that to yourselves,” Wolf Lady said. “My name is Rosie. Think of it every once in a while, and forgive yourselves for the rest.”

.

Outside, everything was degrees of white and black, the snow bracing itself against the sky. Presley’s stomach was a black hole, and the rest of her was so numb as to cave in on itself.

She took one of Siobhan’s hands and one of Xian’s. Ana reached down and squeezed her shoulder.

They began to walk, and across the end of the world, a portal blinked into being

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs “Snow”

Another suggestion you guys gave me :) Hope you like it! 

Maroz 324’s sky was cold and blue overhead. It’s distant binary stars hung high in the sky over the flat, cold alien landscape painted in shades of blue and white. No footprints, or tracks of any kind crossed it’s surface, and remained that way until the shuttle roared down from the bright morning sky and towards the chilled surface.

The GA (Galactic Assembly’s( scientific landing crew felt the weight of the ship as it settled onto the ice, and unbuckled themselves from their seats turning towards the wall to grab their gear. The crew consisted of two Vrul, one Tesraki and a Rundi as it usually was…. That was all accept for the humans, who ducked through the door and into the room, tall and menacing with their forward facing eyes and glittering white teeth.

The human pilot, wearing an eyepatch, and accompanied by a Vrul and Drev of his own paused in the doorway, “We ran some diagnostics on the planet surface. The ice is made mostly of well…. Water which is obviously a good thing for us. As for temperature and atmospheric readings, we have mostly nitrogen, bu at least 21% oxygen. Not a whole lot of carbon. Outside reading on the ship shows that there seems to be no liquid water present on the surface, and as such indicates no bacterial presence, though that may mean nothing at this point. Temperature is a balmy -20 degrees Fahrenheit or -28 degrees celsius.

“Balmy, is this your humor, human?” one of the scientists wondered pulling on a contained environment suit with respirator, temperature control, and a crap-load of other life support equipment, “Subzero temperatures make this planet a deathtrap, unlivable. An extremely hostile environment.”

The human just smiles a calm smile,“Balmy at this point means, wow my face isn’t going to freeze off and shatter upon contact with the air.”

“But ... that's exactly what -20 means.” 

Behind him, the other humans were falling into the room pulling on multiple layers of clothing. The human before them did the same. Two pairs of pants, and boots, and then another strange fibrous layer, and then a large fluffy jacket above that. There seemed to be no room for life support aboard their uniforms. In fact, the scientists were skeptical whether the suits were airtight enough not to lose air rather than contain it. The human pulled on a cap over his head and delicate ears, which were sure to freeze in the cold. There was no question that humans weren't meant for low temperatures, seeing as they lost heat quickly, and had no hair to keep them warm.

That might be why it seemed as if their gear was so primitive…. Perhaps because they had to develop subzero life support systems early on. The original human pulled on two pairs of gloves flexing his fingers inside the suit before donning a strange set of eyewear which he perched atop his head.

As far as they could tell ,he wore no respirator, and there was nothing protecting his eyes from freezing inside his head. The rest of the scientific group had donned their gear…. The same gear they would have worn in the vacuum of space, and then motioned towards the airlock. The humans shuffled forward with a sort of swishing squeaking noise, and the scientists followed behind them. The lead human carried a specimen tube on his back with another vrul encased on the inside looking surprisingly bored as if he was used to the human’s atics by this point. 

They were growing rather nervous watching them, “Aren't you going to put on your helmets?” one of them wondered through the intercom.

The humans looked down at him. Through their noses and mouths were covered by strange fibrous material, the way their eyes scrunched hinted at amusement.

Behind them, the airlock hissed shut, “Why would we do something like that.”

The human hit the button and the cabin depressurized. The scientists looked on in horror expecting humans to fall to the ground dead, but they seemed more than ok. One of them walked towards the door as a decontamination spray bathed them in a fine layer of mist. The door lurched open with a clunk, and a wave of what must have been freezing cold air flooded into the cabin.

Together, the scientists looked up in shock expecting the human’s eyes to immediately freeze and shatter inside their skulls, or at least to see their skin turn blue. No such thing happen, together, the humans walked out into the snow with a soft crunch crunch. To their shock, the main human pulled the material down from his mouth, and then breathed deeply. Hot air plumed from his mouth in smoke like rings.

“Ah…. nothing like a little cold to invigorate the self.” he took another deep breath. For a moment they stared on in surprise, shock and awe, that was before the man began to cough violently doubling over for a moment, probably ready to keel over and die.

The other humans began to laugh at him.

HE pulled the material up over his face, still coughing, “Note to self, air very dry, lungs on fire,.”

The scientists stared on in wonder as the human quickly recovered.

“What…. But…. how/”

The human turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow, “Are you kidding. Where I come from it can get -40 degrees towards the beginning of the year. So cold you can turn boiling water into water vapor in seconds.”

“But ... but how…. You have no fur.”

“What do you think the jacket is for.”

“But your lungs.”

The human reached up and prodded at his nose with a hand, “That’s what this puppy is for keeps the air humid and warm for the lungs. I advise breathing through the nose in cold situations rather than the mouth.

“Your eyes….”

“Tons of blood flow, and there are nice and cozy inside my sull, stop worrying so much.”

He turned towards the planet hands on his hips, “I don’t know about you boys and girls, but I would consider this planet habitable, at least worth harvesting water from. So maybe some sort of base here.”

The scientists just stared as the (life support-less) humans marched into the snow.

“Think about it, one of the humans muttered watching as the scientists took their readings, “No one has ever set foot here…. Ever.” 

The lead human tapped his chin with a musing expression, “Mmm ... good point.” It was then that he left off a strange animal bugle and ran straight onto the tundra hopping and dancing and running around in circles on the white plane of ice and snow almost slipping and falling on more than one occasion. It didn’t take long before the other humans were running after him engaging in primitive and aggressive play with each other. 

A human took a running start and then dug his heels into the icy snow going skidding past another human who had flopped down on her back to open and close her arms and legs while laughing. 

A human leaped over her and then went rolling into the snow sending an explosion of white powder up after him rolling to a stop only to copy the woman before. The scientists, who should have been collecting samples, just stared on in wonder and confusion as the humans happily played in the snow and ice.

Two humans tackled another one and forced his face into the snow before scampering away only to be chased by their snowy counterpart whose warm skin was melting the snow on his face only to have it freeze against his skin. 

“What are they doing.” One of the scientists asked in wonder.

The Vrul inside his test tube sighed, “They are frolicking I believe is the term. Humans love snow, or at least some humans love sow. That one there is making a snow angel, those ones there just performed what is called a ‘whitewash’.”

The scientists turned to the Vrul hunkered down inside his specimen tube, “how do you know all of this?”

He sighed “The first time I visited earth, it was during a blizzard.”

“You’ve been to earth!” They exclaimed in unison.

“More than once unfortunately.” He droned watching as one human snuck up on another with a handful of snow shoving it in their face when they weren’t expecting it. He came over sputtering and spitting snow out of his mouth, “Ok, Ok, this means war.” The aliens looked on with worried expressions as the human trudged over to the ship where the heat of the engines, still cooling had melted a plot of snow in a wide circle around the craft. He dug his hand in towards the edge scooping up a handful of snow and began packing it together.

Together the scientists came forward with curiosity, “How did you do that.”

The human looked u in puzzlement, holding out his ball of snow, “What…. You didn’t know that it sticks together.” he tossed the ball of snow up and down in a single hand, “Well my friends, you are about to be introduced to a human game that has been near and dear to our hearts from times of great antiquity.”

He turned towards where the other humans were still ‘frolicking in the snow’ and violently snapped his arm around in an overhand circle. 

There was an explosion of snow on the back of one of the human’s jackets and he stumbled nearly falling flat on his face. He turned eyes narrowed, and then came barreling towards the human who had thrown it.

“SNOWBALL FIGHT!”  

The entire tundra broke into chaos around the ship, and the scientists ducked for cover as balls of frozen liquid began flying through the air at incredible speed. The first human was nailed in the face ending up on his back in the snow holding a hand to his nose.

The other humans only stopped to see if he was ok before continuing on in their mission. Two took up position behind one of the struts holding the ship up, one of them throwing the snowballs, while the other made them and handed them off with unwavering accuracy. 

Eventually someone was smashed over the head with a snowball the size of his own head and the two ended up tumbling to the snow rolling end over end as they tried to stick each other’s faces in the cold, wet ground.

The scientists were making no headway and were forced to yell at the humans to knock it off hoping beyond hope that this was not some sort of primitive mutiny by the humans. It was so violent and aggressive.

“ALL OF YOU KNOCK IT OFF!” The humans stopped, and everyone turned to find the Vrul in the test tube with both of his arms crossed, just like the humans, “can’t you see you are ruining the  scientific field and contaminating it., “Either you play nice with each other, or you are all going back inside.” 

To their surprise, the humans slumped and muttered to each other giving the scientists time to go out and begin sampling away from the ship where the chaos had taken place. Behind them, two humans had begun rolling a massive ball of snow, which didn’t seem like it should have stuck together, but totally did. Another one sat in the snow and absently crunched on a snoball.

���Get that out of your mouth!” The vrul in the test tube demanded, “You don’t know what could possibly be in it.”

The human looked up at him licking his lips, “Don’t eat yellow snow.” He held out the snowball, “This snow is white.”

“It is from another planet.”

“What is yellow snow.” A returning scientist wondered, “I did not know that snow came in different colors.”

The human grinned malevolently, “Oh yes yellow snow. I know how to make it too. A serious process.” the other humans began giggling. The vrul inside his specimen tube did not seem pleased.

Behind them two of the humans had managed to stack three snowballs one on top of the other.

“What are you doing.

The humans turned to look, “Do you like it? This is our snowman.”

“Snowman?” They wondered in confusion. Another human walked up from behind with two snowballs and stuck them onto the middle snowball.

“Now it is a snow woman.” 

He received a face full of snow for his trouble.” 

Another human inched by on his back pushing himself through the snow on his back like some kind of strange arctic inch worm. The other humans, and aliens alike turned to watch him go, the humans with amusement and the aliens with confusion.

Apparently, despite being spawned in the dessert, or savanna, humans greatly enjoy the cold, when snow is involved, they will eat it, play with it, throw it at each other, bury themselves in it burrowing around like snow worms. No one understands why this is, by all rights it should kill them, but humans are adaptable basterds, and I suppose that the ability to live in a cold climate would give them no end to the water that they might need.

Still it is very strange, there is something about snow that brings out the primitive human, which will then display a strange sort of ritualistic play .

There will have to be more research done about this in the future, but for now it will have to remain a mystery. 

[masonscig]

first line tag game

thank you for the tag @crackerdumortain !!!!! yours were so much fun to read omg !!!!

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Then tag some of your favourite authors!

[disclaimer: i write for the choices fandom and some for litg so you’ll see a mix of those fandoms on this list LMAO]

1. stay [twc – mason x sofía]

The first time was casual. She had a knack for musing her thoughts aloud, tossing her harmless opinions out for anyone who’d catch them.

She was good at starting conversations in that way – while he’d never been one for talking.

She never did it with heavy topics, though.

2. thieves in the shadows [choices – blades au – mal x zilyana]

bullets pelted the crates they were crouched behind, wood splintering in every direction. bodies were strewn across the warehouse, the unmistakable pools of blood streaking across the stone.

“raine! to your left!” immy yelled her way, barely sparing her a glance before unloading her clip, shell casings clinking against the ground.

the gun trembled in yana’s hands. she’d shot one before – practice at the gun range, glass bottles in a back alley – but never a live target.

3. if we meet again [choices – open heart au – bryce x spencer] 18+

year one

The ride from the airport to her parents’ home was long and grueling, the slushy ice pelting the windshield barely passing for snow.

It was practically sub-zero outside, a stark difference between the mid seventies weather she’d just left.

4. clandestine [twc – mason x sofía] 18+

“hey. hey wake up –”

she stirred at the greeting, but jumped when he kicked the desk. her face contorted into a grimace, the imprint of her tweed jacket on her cheek outlined in pink. “hmm?”

“you fell asleep again,” he said, plopping a bag in front of her.

5. undying [choices – blades – mal x zilyana]

Zilyana stirred, resituating herself against Mal’s bare chest, feeling his arm instinctively tighten around her shoulders. When she realized she was missing the sound of his deep breathing, accompanied with an occasional soft snore, she cracked an eye open to see his chin tipped upwards, his gaze trained on the ceiling.

6. talent show [choices – platinum – shane x dom]

There wasn’t a day that went by where she didn’t cross his mind. Even since they were kids.

He admired so much about her – her fiery spirit, her drive, her unwavering tenacity.

And he’d been in love with Dom for as long as he could remember.

7. redeemed [choices – platinum – raleigh x dom]

As soon as he stepped off stage, he was shuffled to his tour bus, Fiona on his heels. She looked like the human embodiment of rage in a grey blazer, a look in her eye that made him thankful he wasn’t the one it was directed at – or at least he hoped he wasn’t the reason she was two seconds away from a murderous rampage.

8. hidden [choices – foreign affairs – blaine x carina] 18+

Her cheek slipped out of the palm of her hand, forehead smacking the desk, nearly jumping out of her skin at the abrupt awakening.

“Ow.”

She prodded the tender spot on her face, thankful her foundation was thick.

A soft snore caught her attention – next to her, Blaine was passed out. Leaning back in his chair, his head was thrown back, arms crossed against his chest, the textbook on its face in his lap.

9. is this fate? [litg au – bobby x mc] 18+

The peroxide was cold when it hit her skin, the liquid bubbling on her knee, relentlessly stinging. She sucked in a breath through gritted teeth.

“Sorry… should be over soon,” he murmured, wiping up the stray liquid that streamed down her leg with a small rag.

The heaviness of the atmosphere between them was almost too much to bear – they’d barely spoken since he helped her onto the counter in his small office, leg propped up between his own, where he sat in his desk chair.

10. asvista cove [litg college au – bobby x elena]

Bobby’s thumb flicked the lighter repeatedly until he got a consistent flame, moving slowly from left to right over the edge of the blunt. His cheeks hollowed out as he sucked in, the tip of it an auburn ember. He pulled it out of his mouth and sucked in an even deeper breath, holding it.

When he blew out the thick cloud of smoke, he passed it to her, coughing under his breath. “Whew. Your turn.”

She followed suit, the thick smoke coating the inside of her lungs, bitter and heavy. She exhaled, the shroud smoke enveloping her view of the sealine.

11. reticent [twc – mason x sofía] 18+

She was bare.

Bare in the way that one is when they’ve been stripped down and torn apart with a trained gaze just calculating enough for them to feel seen – parts of her she didn’t know she’d hidden splayed out like withered pages of a book, dog-eared and marked up like a frequently reread novel.

One he’d reread because it was familiar, because it had fallen into his lap (he hadn’t searched for it), not so much because it was his favorite.

12. more [twc – mason x sofía] 18+

He laced his fingers through her thick hair, reveling in the way his skin looked contrasted against the midnight of her hair.

[the way i can’t post more than this bc it’s....... very nsfw right out the bat LMFAO]

13. calm before the storm [choices – open heart – bryce x spencer]

Since the moment his hands trembled amidst one of the most important surgeries of his life, Bryce was holding on by a thread.

With each half-assed joke he cracked, each wavering smile, each time he tried convincing others – including himself – that he was coping, he fell apart more and more.

The first night he went home after Spencer was quarantined, he trudged through the halls of Edenbrook, like he was dragging his legs through wet concrete. He was nearly magnetized to her bedside, not wanting to leave, but he needed to rest – he’d been awake for nearly a day and a half by the time he clocked out.

14. envy | part two of the attached series [twc – mason x sofía x felix]

He strode down the hallway, hands in his pockets to give the illusion that he didn’t give a shit, when he was most definitely on edge. His fingers flicked his lighter open and closed against the twill lining of his pockets, trying to focus on the soft clicking noise it made instead of the swarm of thoughts clouding his conscience.

He still couldn’t figure out why he cared so much.

15. comfort | part one of the attached series [twc – mason x sofía x felix]

He noticed it before she did.

Her pulse didn’t jump the same way it did the first dozen times he walked into the room. The blood didn’t rush to her cheeks, or creep up her neck, the crimson flush absent even when he tried his hardest to fluster her. And it normally took next to nothing to get her to turn into a bumbling mess.

16. out of time [choices – open heart – sienna x danny]

She sprinted down the hallway, pager still beeping erratically on her hip, the weight of the numbers enough to make her feel like she was slugging through wet concrete.

No, no, not him, please, not him, she chanted to herself, vision blurring with tears before she had the chance to let the negative possibilities set in.

17. unrequited part three [choices – open heart – bryce x spencer]

She slumped into the seat in the deserted waiting room, her joints popping as she stretched, her deep sigh echoing off of the tile. She was exhausted.

She could usually push through the worst of her shifts, but fatigue settled into her bones, a lethargy she’d never experienced entrapping her like a net, and she couldn’t fight her way out of it this time.

18. signs [choices – ride or die – logan x raquel]

“A final in sign language? Couldn’t you just have a conversation with the teacher or some shit?” Logan sat across from her on the couch, watching as her fingers bent and flexed, transfixed.

She stopped abruptly, screwing her mouth to the side in concentration. She repeated the same few moves, getting more and more frustrated with each sequence.

19. mementos [choices – ride or die – logan x raquel]

The sound of his boots slapping against the damp pavement reverberated off of the brick of the alleyways, his gasping breaths adding to the symphony that was his escape.

20. warmth [twc – mason x sofía]

“You’re going the wrong way,” Mason grunted, looking particularly stiff in her passenger seat.

“I thought we could take the scenic route,” she shrugged, flicking her high beams on as she turned off of the main road leading downtown, easing on the brakes when the tires hit the gravel.

okay so....... i didn’t really realize just HOW MUCH i’ve written since the summer? i’ve fallen into a pattern where i think i’m a failure bc of how slow i am to write because i have so many series i’ve started and dropped off and wips i’ve abandoned but.... i’ve managed to write for most appreciation weeks i’ve both hosted/participated in and i’ve written for THREE fandoms.... i don’t normally gas myself up but? i’m really? proud of myself? KSJDJKSD if you read this far thank you and you’re prob watching me have a breakdown over how much i’ve managed to write oh my GOD ok i need to lie down KLSDFKASFJD i didn’t even think i could hit 20 but i did???? alright i’m officially gonna treat myself at some point bc i did all this in less than a year.... these are from the end of july 2020 to now..... wow ok im done i promise SKDFJKSDF

tagging: @raleighcarrera and @pixeljazzy !!! <3 

[coeurdastronaute]

Either/Or: Nerd 10

Previously on Nerd

The house on Smallman Street was a raucous affair. 

The lights spilled out from the windows, casting long yellow streaks through the freshly free from snow lawn while the music played and boomed, thumping quietly along to the laughter of the people inside. Cars filled the street in all directions, pulled up onto the edges of lawns and blocking each other in. The night air was crisp and the party was needed after the winter that seemed to provide perpetual clouds and precipitation. 

It was everything Lexa imagined and expected, and yet when confronted with the grandeur and majesty of a high school party, she was slightly overwhelmed. The theory of it was gone, and the practice seemed like a lot. But still, she closed the door to Clarke’s truck and sighed in the almost warm air of the spring evening and shivered. 

From the edge of the lawn, Lexa peered up at the house and driveway that filled with classmates. She adjusted her glasses and took a deep breath to prepare for the evening. She wasn’t alone, she had to remind herself. And it could be fun. It sounded like it was a lot of fun, and that was something to start with. 

“Did I mention you look exceptionally cute tonight?” Clarke asked as she rounded the truck, shoved her keys in her pocket and smiled at Lexa. 

It was a dangerous smile, Lexa realized, and one that she was beginning to become intimately familiar with. Something about the single dimple and the ghost of the other, the stretch of red lips and the spark of something in her eyes that made Clarke absolutely lethal. And that was before words were put into the equation. 

Dumbly, Lexa adjusted her glasses and looked down at her jeans and sneakers and old sweater over an old shirt from a trip to some national park. It wasn’t anything special or even that remarkable. She hadn’t put any effort into it other than to keep her mother from complaining that she was wearing sweatpants. 

“I don’t know about that.” 

“I like this sweater,” Clarke explained, fiddling with the stitch of the knitted dark green. “It makes your eyes seem like they’re really green.” 

“Oh?” 

“You look cozy and I like that.” 

Without anymore argument, she stretched and kissed Lexa quickly, chastly, as if sealing the words that wanted to come out forever. Satisfied with her work, she grinned and held Lexa’ hand before tugging her toward the house and music and people and lives. 

“I can be the sweet one sometimes,” Clarke explained. “Wouldn’t want you to think I don’t think you’re cute.” 

“I don’t get it, but I’m not going to fight it,” Lexa promised. “Even if you need to get your eyes checked.” 

As they walked up the steps, Clarke laughed and Lexa felt herself breathe a sigh of relief for earning something like that. 

“We’re not going to be that couple that argues about how cute the other is. That’s absolutely disgusting.” 

“Ew, yes.” 

“Cool, then just accept it.” 

“I already agreed, despite mild objection.” 

“That’s not accepting.” 

“It’s accepting and dissenting. That’s allowed in a democracy.” 

“This is, at best, a constitutional monarchy,” Clarke explained. 

“Shut up,” Lexa nudged her and laughed. 

From inside the party, a few eyes turned to see the couple approaching-- the same couple that they were still very unsure was an actual couple. They certainly looked like one, with their hands locked and arms swinging between their two bodies. Their cheeks were blushing and if anyone were to pay attention to them, they might notice the slight way they rotated around each other, and the slight adoration witnessed through glances and smiles and body language. 

The house was absolutely stuffed with people and noise and commotion, but the pair pushed in, all smiles and greeting their friends as they trudged onwards to find a place to anchor themselves. 

Tugged forward, Lexa held Clarke’s hand as they wove through the kitchen and deeper into the house and toward the music. She didn’t really pay attention to people she passed, but rather that she was very close to Clarke and holding her hand and that was enough for her amidst it all. 

Somehow she got a cup of nearly warm beer and accepted it without a fuss and sipped it before deciding that she would be nursing it for the rest of the night. 

“You made it!” a voice erupted as Clarke finally stopped directing them through the bodies. 

The hand disappeared and Lexa went from looking at her cup to her empty hand to Clarke’s neck being engulfed by another set of arms, and she was very confused her feet weren’t moving anymore. It felt like she’d been making the pilgrimage through the party for years with no real destination in mind. 

“Finally. I’ve been waiting for my partner to get here so we can run the beer pong table,” another voice entered the forray. 

Lexa stood back slightly and let Clarke greet her friends, recognizing and barely knowing a few of them. She felt like she knew them because of Clarke, and the secondhand knowledge seemed a little weird at the moment. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Clarke explained, tucking hair behind her ear as she leaned back and found Lexa’s side. “I was running late, and then Lexa’s soccer game went later than expected.” 

The eyes of the group all realized that aforementioned Lexa was standing there. She took a sip of her beer and smiled slightly. 

“How’d it go?” Wells broke the quiet, and Lexa was grateful she didn’t have to keep sipping her drink. 

Clarke leaned against her side, and Lexa was grateful for it. 

“Really well. We won again. I think it’s two in a row for us,” she explained and nodded slightly before someone grabbed her. 

“We’re twelve and two thanks to this one’s goal tonight!” 

Lexa grinned as an arm wrang her neck and she jostled with the motion, grateful to have someone else she knew. 

“All because of your assist,” Lexa promised her teammate. 

“I was spectacular,” Raven agreed. “Thanks for finally getting her to come out, Clarke. We’ve been asking Woods to come forever.” 

“And here I thought she was just my nerd hiding out,” Clarke teased, earning a furious blush as she slipped an arm around Lexa’s middle. 

“I always assumed she was just too busy.” 

“I am,” Lexa disagreed, slipping her arm over Clarke’s shoulder. “I just finally had some time open up.” 

“Convenient,” Raven nodded. 

It was probably much worse in her head, but Lexa realized she was almost having a good time throughout the night. She’d dreaded those events as nothing more than an opportunity to embarrass herself, or feel even more disconnected than ever from her classmates. Maybe it was time and distance and fate, but it clicked, and she felt like she wasn’t lugging around her brother’s baggage for the evening, like she could enjoy herself, even if he wasn’t there. Guilt was limited, finally. 

Three drinks in, and Clarke got cozier, and Lexa didn’t mind at all. Warmth spread through her chest as she experienced loopy Clarke. 

Tucked in a spare living room that led out to the backyard, the group ebbed and flowed, adding and subtracting and shifting like a tide pool. Clarke sat on the floor, her back against the couch with Lexa beside her. She pressed closer when reaching for something, and she let her hand linger on Lexa’s thigh, tucking it there absently while her thumb traced the hem. 

For a moment, at some point in the middle of that happening, Lexa gulped and looked at Clarke, slowly, so as not to draw attention to herself. She looked down at the hand and tried to pay attention desperately to the people talking. 

“Settle something for us, Woods,” Bellamy half-shouted though the music was lower than ever. The alcohol coursed through the party, seeping out the edges. 

“Yes?” 

“What did you get suspended for on that eighth grade field trip?” 

“You got suspended?” Clarke scoffed, her surprise evident. 

“It’s not that crazy of a notion.” 

“It’s… it’s actually unbelievable.” 

“It’s not.” 

“It really is,” a few other people chimed in and Lexa sighed and shook her head. 

“I bet it was because you were doing extra credit on a school trip.” 

“Or taking too many notes.” 

“Correcting the tour guide,” Raven offered with a laugh as everyone joined. 

Lexa couldn’t help but smile when she thought about it, something she hadn’t done in too long. She felt Clarke squeeze her thigh and she took a deep breath before starting. 

“It wasn’t anything exciting. Aden and I wanted to go to this movie and then the comic shop a few blocks away from the museum, so we snuck out and thought we’d just join at the bus,” she began. “But everyone was gone by the time we made our way back.” 

“You ditched a field trip?” Bellamy balked. 

“I thought you’d never ditched before?” Clarke furrowed, faux betrayal on her face. 

“I didn’t count it as ditching. I’d been to that museum every year for how many school trips?” 

“Probably every year of school,” Wells agreed. “I feel like I could recite the entire tour by heart.” 

“Exactly. So it wasn’t ditching persay.”

“But Aden didn’t get suspended,” Raven reminded the group. 

“I was the distraction while he slipped back in with the group at school. We grabbed a cab, but didn’t have enough money to cover it.” 

“You almost got away with it.” 

“Yeah. Almost.” 

There was a pause as Lexa swirled the remnants of her drink and took the last bit in a big gulp. The group thought about it for a little while, the party slowly dying around them. 

“Do you remember when Aden got stuck up in that tree over by the lake?” Gus asked. “They had to use the ladder on the fire truck to get him down.” 

“You’re the one who dared him, if I remember correctly,” Raven sassed as everyone laughed at the memory of when they were just scuffed-knee kids in too much trouble. 

“He was really good at climbing,” Bellamy promised, dissecting the moment. 

Lexa felt a pain in her heart-- not a stabbing, not a tearing, not a purposefully painful type of ache, but rather a soreness, as if her heart has worked out harder than ever before, and the lactic acid built up to a degree that made movement feel like the muscles were stretched to their limit. It was a healthy ache, one that still felt uncomfortable but was by no means unbearable, and if she wasn’t mistaken, perhaps even required. 

“Hey,” Clarke whispered. “You okay?” 

Without even really thinking, Lexa nodded and made herself smile. It was forced only for a split second before she met Clarke’s eyes and meant it. 

“Very okay,” she promised. 

Clarke wasn’t sure she believed her, but before Lexa could protest again, she shifted and kissed her cheek, burning and pink and all. 

“Thanks for coming, by the way.” 

“Thanks for inviting me.”

“Will you drive me home later?” 

“I will,” Lexa smiled, never breaking their glance an leaning forward, goofy smile on her face to match the slightly inebriated one that stared back. 

“Will you kiss me?” 

“Right now?” 

“Eventually.” 

“Definitely.” 

“But also right now.” 

Lexa couldn’t help but laugh and she agreed, the tips of ears burning as she leaned forward for a chaste kiss. She pulled back and had Clarke’s eyes on her and she had arms around her neck and the slight weight of the girl of her dreams. And when she closed them again, Clarke leaned forward and kissed her again. 

“Will you go dance outside with me?”

“Oh, well… I don’t-- I’m not much of a dancer.” 

“Perfect. Me neither.” 

Uncoordinated and messy, Clarke pushed herself up before Lexa could argue, tugging her along. 

“Where are you two going?” 

“I want to move. I want to dance. I want air,” Clarke explained. “And Lexa is nice enough to do whatever I ask.” 

“Dumb enough, you mean,” the soccer player supplied. 

“That too,” she grinned and pulled through the crowd, leaving a gaggle of friends behind who only watched after them for a moment before hopelessly gossiping about the pair. 

XXXXXXXXXX

Toward the end of the night, the cars disappeared slowly. People made their ways back to their respective homes or friend’s houses or next port in the never-ending sagae of drinking and general teenage debauchery. Lexa wasn’t sure how, but she knew a lot of people at the party, and they were all happy to see her, bemoaning the fact that they hadn’t see her out before. 

“I thought you wanted to dance,” Lexa furrowed as Clarke opened the truck and handed her the keys. 

“I’m not that drunk, but I know how you get,” she smiled. “I just wanted to get out, and sometimes you have to play your part in order to escape. A french exit sounds nice, doesn’t it?” 

“If you want to stay, we can,” Lexa shook her head, still looking at the keys as Clarke made her way to the passenger seat. She leaned over the hood and rolled her eyes. 

“Let’s get out of here.” 

“Sounds good.” 

As was becoming normal, Clarke played with the radio, carefully finding something , but failing as they made their way down the block and away from the party. When she scrolled through the dial twice, she pushed in an old cassette and let the song start that made her smile. Lexa felt a hand on her thigh as she drove and gulped before adjusting slightly. 

“Where am I going?” 

“Anywhere. Your curfew isn’t for another hour, right?” 

“Just about.” 

“Head over towards the mall. I’m hungry.” 

“You’re kind of bossy.” 

“I thought you liked that.” 

“I must.” 

Clarke smiled as she watched lights zoom by. She hummed along to the music and snuck glances at the girl driving her truck. Lexa had a knack for concentrating. She focused intently and let little else into her mind, and it was endearing, for the most part. But at the moment, slightly intoxicated and exceptionally turned on, Clarke was less amused by Lexa’s inability to give her attention and drive a car. 

“What are you looking at?” Lexa laughed nervously as she caught Clarke’s eye.

“You. I like looking at you.” 

CLarke looked away with the confession. She felt her cheeks blush and she sighed, her head leaning against the window. 

XXXXXXXXX

“Have you decided anything?” Lexa asked, snagging a fry from the container between them as they sat in the old truck in the middle of the empty mall parking lot. 

This felt a little more normal than the party, though she remembered not being particularly overwhelmed, which was a surprise. For an instant, Lexa believed that maybe her brain wasn’t as broken as she accused it of being sometimes. She sipped her soda and waited as the girl beside her finished chewing. 

Slightly intoxicated, but coming down from it, Clarke was messy hair and handsy. Neither facts were a problem for Lexa. 

“I haven’t yet, but I’ve debated it, and I think I might just tell her I know, and to stop. My dad will never have to know.” 

“That’s true,” she agreed. 

“The doctors are usually pretty optimistic for him, but his symptoms are becoming more often, and I just don’t know how long I have him for.”

“And you don’t want to ruin the last bit of time.” 

“Yeah.” 

The pair relaxed and finished up the make shift dinner a fast food drive thru provided. Lexa spent a good portion of it watching Clarke adjust and her legs cross and change on the dashboard. Between sips of her drink, she tried to think of something to say, but failed to come up with anything that would have made a difference. 

“I appreciate you asking,” Clarke finally sighed, balling up a wrapper and tossing it on the floor of her truck. “But please, can we not let my mother ruin anything else?”

Clarke let her head lull back until she looked over at Lexa and gave her a smile that showed how tired a lot of her own thoughts made her. She needed to be real and present. She needed anchored. 

“Whatever you need.” 

“I’ll take any distractions you can give me.” 

As she spoke, Clarke shifted closer so that she was against Lexa’s side in almost no time, an arm around her shoulder, the flat seat of the truck a perfect place to casually lean against another person. Outside, the parking lot was a desolate ocean of hatched asphalt and lights that were beacons against all else. Inside, the tape played and Lexa smelled Clarke’s hair, finding the familiar shampoo warm and lingering on the evening. 

“Well, there is a dance coming up…” Lexa trailed off and debated what word should come next, and she was left with a complete blank. There had to be another word that went there. All wors could be followed by other words, it was the basis of human speech. And yet all words, tens of thousands of them, they all felt wrong. 

Clarke turned slightly, which just made Lexa more nervous. But instead of helping, she just held her arm and pulled it tighter around her shoulders. 

“Interesting.” 

“The Sadie Hawkins dance,” Lexa explained. 

“Rings a bell.” 

“It’s when the girl asks the guy to the dance. It’s nothing too crazy. They’re doing a decade theme. The Sock Hop 60’s.” 

“Wow, you sure do know a lot about the dance for someone who doesn’t like to dance.” 

“I hear things,” she shrugged. “I just don’t know how it works if we’re both girls.” 

“Are you trying to ask me to the dance, Lexa?” Clarke teased. “I never would have imagined you wanting to go.” 

“Seems like a good distraction.” 

“Purely selfless then?” 

“Yeah,” her cheeks burned with the fib. 

The cheerleader beside her let her worry in the quiet before shifting slightly. Clarke remained very close to Lexa, though she faced her now. She looked at her lips and back at her eyes and she really looked at the track-running, school government secretary, part time tutor, part time mechanic, full time babe. She ran her fingertips along her jaw and saw the nerves that existed on her cheeks. 

“Do you want to take me to the dance?” 

Lexa nodded and smiled. 

“Good. Because I just assumed you were my date.” 

Without warning, Lexa pushed forward slightly and kissed the girl that was almost in her lap. She kissed Clarke eagerly, happily, a distraction and a very honest panacea for all that ailed the wonderful girl in the front seat. Relatively new to the kissing and making out thing, Lexa was eager to spend many hours doing it more often. She felt arms wrap around her neck as Clarke pushed against her. Her whole body melted in response. 

“Don’t I have to get you home before curfew?” 

“I’ve never been out past it,” Lexa smiled, kissing Clarke again and earning a slight chuckle despite her lips. 

“A few minutes late won’t hurt, I guess.” 

Lexa made it approximately thirty more seconds into the first bits of what had the markings of her best make out yet, and the guilt snuck into her head and she pulled away, lips swollen and mind conflicted. 

“I should get home before curfew.” 

Clarke let out a laugh and shook her head before hugging Lexa’s shoulders for just a moment before scooting to her own side. 

“Thank you for everything.” 

“Thanks for making out with me.”               

next

[blurglesmurfklaine]

Christmas Eve With You (Let It Snow)

Summary: It's Christmas Eve in Lima Ohio, and Kurt has a lot to do: find the perfect gift for his dad, make a life changing decision, and--after an unexpected turn of events--escort pop star Blaine Anderson around town. You know, the usual...Based off of Netflix's Let It Snow

A/N: Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, and Happy Kwanzaa to you all!! I personally celebrate Christmas and it's my favorite holiday and I've never written a Christmas Rom-Com AU so I decided last minute to write one lol. Relatively short, part one today, part two to come hopefully before the New Year!

Read on AO3

***

Congratulations!

We are delighted to inform you that you have been accepted into the New York Academy of the Dramatic Arts. With an acceptance rate of less than 4%, NYADA is one of the top tier schools for those wishing to perfect their

Kurt tore his eyes away from the page and slowly drew in a deep breath. He didn’t need to keep reading. He had practically memorized the damn thing in the first hour he opened the envelope. He began folding up the acceptance letter for what must have been the hundredth time and opened his desk drawer, tucking the letter underneath some old papers where his dad would never find it.

He pulled on his coat and any other winter wear necessary to make the freezing train ride to the swap meet bearable.

He would probably come home later and read the letter just one more time, scouring it to see if it had the answer he needed, but right now he had an elf to find.

***

“I’m looking for a Townhouse Moments Christmas Elf number forty-three.” Kurt explained to the man at the swap meet while this year’s crappy pop Christmas song played on in the background. “I ordered it online ahead of time, but they gave me number forty-two.”

The vendor simply looked at him with an almost bored (and definitely condescending) expression. “Listen, kid. You and every other collector out here are looking for this guy, and I don’t have him. You’re not gonna find it. Not on Christmas Eve.”

Kurt sighed, the background song seeming even more annoying than usual. Seriously, the swap meet couldn’t find any holiday music better than some lame Blaine Anderson single? “Look, I really need this figurine. My dad’s Christmas kind of depends on it.” He explained desperately.

The vendor shook his head. “Like I said, I can’t help you.”

Kurt angrily huffed and shoved the figurine he’d brought with him back in his pocket. “Merry Christmas,” he muttered under his breath before heading back to the train station.

At least the train had a stop near the Lima Bean. There was nothing quite like sitting with a warm cup of coffee in your hands while watching the snow fall down through the frosted windows.

***

Blaine stepped up from the platform onto the train, immediately searching for a seat in an area that wouldn’t be too crowded. He rarely got a chance to walk through the world without being gawked at like some Zoo animal, and he wasn’t about to have that ruined by an overexcited fan.

It’s not that he wasn’t grateful for everything his fans provided him, but sometimes it got to be a bit much and he needed a moment to just… retract from all the pandemonium.

He finally spotted a somewhat secluded area and headed towards it. Before he could make it, though, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

“Excuse me,” a voice called out from behind him.

Blaine sighed before reluctantly turning around to face a boy, probably around his age, with pale skin and a nose slightly pinked by the cold they both just entered from.

The boy looked slightly startled, as if he had just realized who Blaine was, but remained calm.

“Look,” Blaine started. “I really don’t feel like taking any pictures right now.”

The boy pursed his lips and glared at Blaine. He then extended his hand out and Blaine looked down to see he was just returning his phone that must have fallen out of his coat pocket.

“You dropped this,” the stranger said with a bit of sting in his voice as he shoved the phone back into Blaine’s grasp.

“Oh,” Blaine replied lamely. “Sorry, I—“

Mystery boy scoffed and held up a hand to silence him. “Don’t bother.” He muttered, then turned around to find a seat.

Fair enough, Blaine thought.

Just as Blaine was about to head back to find a seat of his own, the boy whipped around, apparently not quite done with him yet. “And by the way,” he began. “You don’t even know anything about me. I don’t care for your trashy pop music, I’m not one of your Blaineiacs who swoons at just the mention of your name, and I’m definitely not the type of person who would just throw myself at someone just because they’re famous.”

“I never said—“

Once again, Blaine was cut off, but not by the (admittedly attractive) boy. The train suddenly jerked forward and the momentum sent the strange boy flying backwards into Blaine’s unsteady arms.

Blaine felt his breath hitch, caught off guard by the suddenness of it all. He looked down and caught the boy’s gaze, realizing he had some of the clearest crystal blue eyes Blaine had ever seen. Awesome. The universe throws a super cute guy into your arms and it’s someone who thinks you’re a complete asshole.

As soon as it happened, it was over. Before either of them knew it, the train was on its way, steady enough so that the pale boy had the balance necessary to shoot himself out of Blaine’s arms like a repelling magnet.

His face flushed bright red and he gaped at Blaine for a moment. “I–That wasn’t—that was the train,” he said in a huff before whipping around and heading to his seat on the other side of the train car.

Blaine followed him with his eyes the entire time.

***

Not even ten minutes into the ride, Kurt felt the train slowly come crawling to a stop. “No,” he pleaded under his breath. “Please, no, we’re so close to the Lima Bean,” he whined.

But sure enough, the conductor’s voice came over the intercom and loudly announced that the train would be stalled indeterminately due to the recent snowfall.

Kurt sighed and looked longingly out the window towards the Lima Bean. This was ridiculous, he could see the rooftop to his favorite coffee shop just over the snow-covered hill. There was no reason he couldn’t make it there without incident.

He drew in a steadying breath before standing up and heading towards the doors. Unfortunately, before he could completely escape the defective cab, another figure came up in front of him and unintentionally blocked his path.

It so happened to be none other than the Blaine Anderson. Of course it was Blaine. Of course it was the idiot celebrity who thought everything revolved around him.

“You headed to that coffee shop, too?” Blaine asked without turning back to look at Kurt, using his clover hand to block out the morning sun as he stared off into the distance.

Anderson only kept trucking on forward as Kurt followed his lead—coincidentally, of course.

“I’m not following you,” he felt compelled to say. “I also just want a decent cup of coffee.”

Blaine gave him a charmingly warm smile and hopped off the platform into the soft snow. “Of course. Then, I suppose, you wouldn’t mind keeping me company.”

Kurt followed his lead and hopped off the train, beginning to trudge through the snow after Blaine—again, completely by chance that they were headed in the same direction.

“Fine. Just know that this is completely coincidental!”

“Deal.”

***

“Deal,” Blaine said. “So, uh, do I get your name? I mean, it’s only fair since you already know mine.”

“Yeah, because everybody knows your name, right?”

“I–no-! That’s not what I meant…”

The pale boy narrowed his eyes slightly at him and looked him up and down like he was deciding whether or not to trust him. “Kurt,” he finally answered. “Kurt Hummel.”

Blaine extended his hand out and Kurt stared at it for a second before taking it. “Blaine Anderson—because I’m not going to assume anybody knows my name anymore.” Blaine noticed the corner of Kurt’s mouth twitch up, barely noticeable. “Nice to meet you, Kurt.”

They walked on for a few moments in silence before Kurt spoke up again. “Why did you even take the train into town?” He asked.

Blaine shrugged. “I wanted to get away from the tour bus for a while. It felt real being in there. Surrounded by real people.”

Kurt chortled. “If the train made you feel real, the Lima Bean is gonna blow your mind.”

***

Kurt and Blaine stood in front of the long awaited coffee shop, both staring up at the broken and incomplete sign at the top of the building. The worn out block green letters should have obviously spelled out “LIMA BEAN”, but time and weather had taken out the L.

“Say it to yourself,” Kurt instructed Blaine. “Out loud.”

“Ima Bean?” Blaine said questioningly.

“I’m A Bean.” Kurt said dismally. “Because nobody in this town is—or ever will be—anything but a tiny bean in the universe… at least, that’s what we would say growing up.”

“That’s… morbid.”

Kurt simply shrugged before heading in through the doors. “It’s the truth,” he grumbled, remembering the letter burning a hole in his desk drawer and knowing he could never ever let it see the light of day again.

The Lima Bean was empty for the time being, but Kurt knew it would be filled with McKinley high teens in no time.

The couple silently made their way to the counter and Blaine took note of the barista who was… not exactly someone he imagined to be working at a coffee shop, but a job was a job he supposed. The barista had his head down, showcasing his unique haircut (a mohawk) while he began to take their orders.

“Welcome to the Lima Bean,” he sighed before slowly upturning his head. “What can I…” Just as Kurt had expected, Puck’s eyes grew wide upon seeing Blaine. “Get for you today…”

“Uh, Puck.” Kurt started timidly. “This is Blaine… I didn’t expect you to be here, I thought you’d be preparing for your long awaited Christmas Eve Rager?”

Puck pouted. “Uh, yeah… so my parents flight was delayed ‘cause of the snow, and they caught me setting up for the party. Decided I should come to work instead. But!” He held up his index finger and his face lit up. “I convinced Sam to let me have it here! So if you’re free tonight, just come on down to I’m A Bean.”

Kurt stifled a laugh at his friend’s wild antics. “Sure thing, Puck. Though, at this point,” he jerked his head towards Blaine. “I don’t know where this day will take me.”

“Been there… anyways, what’ll it be?”

***

“Order for Kurt!” Puck called out.

It was both their orders, but they’d decided it’d be best if they didn’t use Blaine’s name. It turned out to be a good call considering the fact that a group of Titans and Cheerios walked in as soon as Kurt and Blaine sat down.

Kurt got up and shortly returned with their coffees and pastries.

“Are you going to actually finish all that?” Kurt asked, referring to the small mountain of food Blaine had ordered including a tomato and mozzarella panini, a snowman cookie, a breakfast biscuit, and his medium drip.

“Yeah, I don’t like to waste food. It’s like a charity thing for me.” At Kurt’s unamused look, Blaine rolled his eyes and gave his real explanation. “We uh, didn’t grow up with a lot. It feels kind of wrong to throw out a meal when I remember the days we didn’t get one.”

After a moment of processing, “Oh…” was all Kurt could pathetically offer, suddenly feeling like the biggest asshole in the world.

Here he’d been, making assumptions about Blaine when he really didn’t know anything about him. Kind of the way certain football players would do to Kurt.

Okay, so Blaine had kind of come off as a presumptuous dick, but now Kurt realized he himself was making that same mistake.

He watched as Blaine took a bite of the panini and the too full sandwich overflowed with cheese into Blaine’s upper lip. Kurt giggled. “You’ve got a little…” he pointed to his own mouth, trying to point out the stained area on Blaine’s face.

Blaine stuck out his tongue, but completely missed the area. “Did I get it?”

“Not at all,” Kurt laughed again. “But I’ll go grab you some napkins, your royal highness.”

As Kurt was standing up, Blaine opened his mouth to contest before noting the playful look on the other boy’s face.

“And add some more creamer to this bad boy while I’m up,“ He said, gesturing to his half full coffee.

Kurt was nearly to the condiment table when a hauntingly familiar figure blocked his path.

“Where you going off to, fairy boy?”

“Merry Christmas to you, too, Azimio,” Kurt scoffed, trying to side step his long time tormentor.

Azimio followed Kurt’s move, leaving him in the same position he was not a moment ago. “Heard my boy Karofsky’s got a boyfriend over at Thurston high now.”

“Good for him.”

“That’s the farthest thing from good, my man. If it weren’t for you turnin him gay, we’d still have a winning offensive line.”

“I really don’t have any time for this,” Kurt lamented.

“Not so tough without your army brother to protect you, huh?”

Kurt opened his mouth to explain that he didn’t need anyone to protect him, but was immediately silenced by Azimio suddenly slapping the cup out of Kurt’s hand. Kurt flinched as lukewarm coffee splattered around him, the majority of it spilling right on his shirt.

“That’s for turning my best friend into a homo.”

“Hey!” Puck called from behind the counter. “Get out of here!”

“I am a paying customer!” Azimio argued.

“Read the sign, dickwad. Right to refuse service to anyone. That includes no good Lima Losers like yourself!”

Azimio rolled his eyes and angrily stormed out of the store.

As Kurt looked down his stained shirt, he could feel Blaine’s horrified stare burning right through his back. “Oh my god, Kurt. Are you okay?”

He turned around to face the other boy, still shaking with rage and that twinge of humiliation he always felt after scenes like this, no matter how hard he tried to push it down.

“You wanted real?” Kurt asked, feeling tears he would never let Azimio and Langanthal see begin to burn behind his eyelids. “How’s this? Only out gay kid in the entire town gets harassed on a daily basis—even publicly, as you just saw—finally gets an out when he gets into his dream school, and can’t even go because his dad is too sick to be left alone!”

Blaine reached out to place a comforting hand on Kurt’s shoulder. “Kurt—“

Before Blaine could finish his sentence, Kurt heard the table full of Cheerios become more chatty than usual, and he came to a startling realization. He quickly turned around, scanning the table to see that several of the McKinley High cheerleaders were whispering to each other and pointing at Blaine.

“Shit,” he muttered before facing Blaine again. “Restroom, back window,” he ordered as the head Cheerio stood up from the table and made a beeline towards them.

“What?”

“Just go!” Kurt ordered nudging Blaine in the right direction.

Blaine finally seemed to notice the onlookers and started to quickly walk towards the bathroom as one of the cheerleaders walked right behind Kurt.

He spun around to face her, a fake smile on his face. “Hello, there Satan—Santana!”

“Was that... Blaine Anderson?” She asked brusquely, staring down Kurt and crossing her arms.

Kurt raised his eyebrows before turning his head behind him to check that Blaine had made it to the impromptu escape route. He turned to Santana again and sighed, throwing his hands out in defeat. “Yes,” he said, feigning a trenchant dismay. “You caught me. Blaine Anderson is here, with me, at the I’m A Bean …” Kurt scrunched up his nose and smiled wryly at her. “And if you wait a few more minutes, I’m pretty sure TuPac is going to start a flash mob!”

She rolled her eyes and scoffed. As she turned around her perfectly cooked ponytail nearly whipped him right across the face.

He watched her take a seat with the rest of the Cheerios and let out a sigh of relief before heading out to go find Blaine.

***

Blaine writhed and squirmed with all his might, but still wasn’t able to get enough momentum to hoist himself out of the window. He lay on his back, the top half of his body exposed to the bitter cold while the bottom half was stuck in the warmth of the I’m A Bean. The opening wasn’t big enough for him to turn around to get on his stomach. In that position, he could easily reach out for something and just pull himself out.

He he was straining to reach for the window to get some sort of leverage when he heard a giggle. And if he weren’t in the situation he was currently in, he might’ve taken more time to appreciate how beautiful that laugh was.

“Wow,” Kurt chuckled. “I wonder what TMZ would pay for a photo like this.”

“Not enough,” Blaine grunted, struggling for some sort of hand hold. “Now, are you— going to— help me— or not?”

Kurt rolled his eyes and headed over to Blaine.

He laced his arms underneath Blaine’s. “Alright,” Kurt said. “I’m gonna pull on the count of three, so brace yourself. One…”

“Wait, on three or after three?”

“What? Clearly on three, Blaine.”

“Wait, did that count as three?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.”

Kurt tugged and Blaine slid out of the window with ease. The momentum of the pull sent them both toppling backwards—Blaine’s entire body on Kurt—towards the ground.

They hit the frozen ground with an “oof,” and immediately bust out into a fit of laughter.

“That went well.” Kurt giggled.

Still laughing, Blaine turned his body to face Kurt. “Yeah, we’re the epitome of grace.”

They settled into a surprisingly comfortable silence, both warmed by being in the other’s embrace. After a moment, Kurt cleared his throat and shifted backwards,as if he’d just realized the position they’d fallen into. He shuffled to his feet and brushed off some snow from his pants. “So, um, it was so nice—and super random and bizarre—to meet you,” Kurt said, shaking his head. “But I have to go. I have… things to do.”

Kurt headed off in the direction of his next destination, but not without Blaine following close behind. “Like what?”

“Like go meet my dad to watch my Jewish best friend play mother Mary in a multicultural holiday play. “

Blaine rolled his eyes. “Fine, don't tell me.”

“Oh, I only wish I were joking… Whatever, I have other things to do. Important things.”

“Like what?” Blaine pried again, hoping it was something he could accompany Kurt to. He was intrigued by him, and wanted to get to know him better.

“Like make the biggest decision of my life!” Kurt finally snapped, whirling around to face him. Blaine wondered for a moment if he had been too intrusive before Kurt deflated, like a cat un-bristling its tail. “I got into NYADA. It’s one of the best schools in the country for musical theatre, but it’s in New York and I can’t go.”

Blaine thought back to the incident that happened moments before he had nearly been discovered, then back to when he first met Kurt. No wonder Kurt was so wary of him.

“Because of your dad.”

Kurt gave a meek nod of confirmation. “He had a heart attack last year that put him in a coma for a few days, and now, he has… cancer… and we don’t know which way it’s going to go… I asked NYADA for a deferral, but they said I would lose my scholarship.”

They both stayed silent for a moment, neither quite knowing what to say after that. “Sorry for the huge downer,” Kurt mumbled. “I just… haven’t said that to anyone yet. Aside from kind of yelling it at you in the I’m A Bean a few minutes ago… Anyways,” he started up again, turning from Blaine and heading off into the snow covered terrain. “Merry Christmas, I gotta go.”

Blaine continued to trudge after him. “What, where?”

“I told you, multicultural nativity play.”

Blaine caught up with Kurt and sent him his most charming grin. “Sounds fun.”

***

“A hundred and fifty six piece elf village?” Blaine asked in astonishment as he and Kurt walked through the underpath of some trees.

Kurt let out a dry laugh. It sounded even more ridiculous aloud. “Some people’s dads collect coins, or artisan beer bottles; mine collects elves and their homes… So, what are your plans for the holidays?”

Blaine just gave him a halfhearted shrug. “I’ll probably just stay in the hotel room.”

“Christmas Eve in a hotel room?”

“I travel a lot. I’m used to it.”

“And I’m used to getting harassed by idiot meatheads, that doesn’t mean I like it.”

Blaine barked out a laugh, making Kurt’s stomach flip involuntarily. “I guess, just once… I’d like to stay in one place for a little while.”

Well, Lima isn't the worst place to spend Christmas Eve, Kurt nearly said before stopping himself and realizing he would look like a total creep if he did. He lightly shook his head, trying to bring himself back to reality. Head out of the clouds, Hummel. He probably has a girlfriend on the tour bus waiting for him.

“So why does your dad like Christmas so much?” Blaine asked, breaking Kurt out of his thoughts.

“Oh. I think… I think it’s because my mom passed away between Thanksgiving and Christmas.” He took note of the sympathetic look on Blaine’s face before continuing. “So now I think he wants to make Christmas this big and spectacular thing… for me, I guess. I used to love the little figurines when I was little, because I kind of looked like them. My mom decided to start collecting them a few weeks before she died.”

“I’m sorry about your mom,” Blaine said, adding a gentle hand on Kurt’s shoulder. “But that’s pretty sweet of your dad.”

“Yeah… I guess it is.” Kurt smiled warmly. “He’s a great dad.”

The two boys finally reached the peak of the hill. The view overlooked a beautiful wintry scene, complete with frosted evergreen trees and a meadow blanketed in fresh pillowy snow.

“Wow, it’s beautiful.”

Kurt scoffed. “Snow can hide a lot… it’s like the spanx of weather…” Blaine laughed and another comfortable silence fell between them for a moment. “So, where did you grow up?”

“New York. Queens. Growing up, you had to be tough and my brother was… I, on the other hand, was a little more sensitive… and I think that came off as weakness to the other kids.” Blaine shrugged it off. “But it was okay because I always had music.”

Kurt nodded and smiled understandingly. “I know exactly what you mean. The only thing that keeps me sane around here is the glee club. When I’m not singing, I don’t really feel… whole. It’s like—“

“Like you’re barely even a person.”

Kurt let out a little puff of air in astonishment. “Yeah… kind of exactly like that…” As they tread on, Kurt could hear the sound of ice softly crunching beneath their feet. “So uh, what do your parents think about your job?”

Blaine let out a short laugh that felt just the tiniest bit bitter. “Well, my mom supports me but… My dad doesn’t think performing is a real job. He’s really strict. He wasn’t too happy when I came out to him either, but he got over it… sort of.”

Kurt snapped his head up to look at Blaine, eyes wide as he processed the words he just heard. Came out, as in… “Wait a second, you’re…”

A smile tugged at the corner of Blaine’s lips. “Queer as a three dollar bill.” As soon as it was there, it faded. “But uh, it’s not something I advertise, you know? My dad thinks it’s better—safer, if I don’t.”

Kurt cocked an eyebrow, doing his best to push down the butterflies raging in his stomach. “Like a safer career move?” Why would Blaine’s dad care about his career if he didn’t even think it was valid?

Blaine shook his head. “When I was in middle school, before my first album, I went to a Sadie Hawkins dance with a friend; the only other gay guy in the school. While we were waiting for his dad to pick us up, these three guys came and beat the crap out of us.”

In an instant, Blaine felt Kurt’s hand on his. “I… I’m so sorry.”

“I uh, never pressed charges or anything. Just transferred and never looked back, which made sense at the time, but now I just regret not standing up to them.” Blaine looked right into Kurt’s crystal blue eyes as he came to a stop. “So if you ever get the chance to do what I didn’t, you should take it.”

***

They lumbered on through the snow, finally reaching the peak of a hill with a gentler slope than the last one.

Families stood huddled together while groups of children, wrapped up tighter than the presents under their trees, waddled to sleds and rode down the hill.

Kurt watched a smile crack Blaine’s face and he narrowed his eyes with a light suspicion. “What are you smiling at?”

“We should go sledding.”

“We don’t have a sled..?”

Blaine just picked up his pace to a light jog and headed towards a group of women huddled together. He faced Kurt, but kept up his jog in a backpedal. “Young moms; kind of my bread and butter.”

Kurt huffed out a laugh as he looked on at Blaine introducing himself to the star struck mothers. He offered to take a few selfies with them before shortly returning back to Kurt with—lo and behold—a sled.

A minute later they were at the edge of the slope and Blaine settled himself behind Kurt. Kurt felt his heart racing and if he was being completely honest, he couldn’t tell if it was because of the dropoff or the way Blaine was pressed flush against his back, his arms wrapped snug around Kurt’s waist so that he could take hold of the reins.

Blaine started to scoot the sled forward and Kurt felt his nerves kick in. “Wait!” He cried out.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, I just… despite living in a snow covered town for eighteen years, I’ve never actually been sledding before.”

Blaine leaned forward and rested his head in the space between Kurt’s head and shoulders. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “I’ve got you. You’re safe with me.”

Kurt had absolutely no reason to believe Blaine—considering the short time they’d known each other—but for some reason, he found that he did. He believed he’d be safe with Blaine because he already felt safe with him. Safe enough to tell him about his mom, safe enough to confide in him about his dilemma with his dad, and now, safe enough to go sledding for the first time.

He nodded and felt himself pressing his cheek closer to Blaine’s. Blaine pushed them forward and off they went, down the gentle curve of the hill.

The air started rushing quicker and quicker against Kurt’s face, until they were riding at an enjoyable speed. Kurt felt Blaine’s arms close in a little tighter around him and he turned his head to smile back at the other boy, who graciously returned it.

The smiles were wiped clean off their faces when they faced forward once more and suddenly came into contact with a bump in the hill that sent Blaine tumbling backwards with an “oof.” Kurt managed to stay on, panic rising as he realized he had no control of the sled.

“Oh no. No no no,” Kurt yelped as he approached the sharp incline of a snow bank, unable to do anything to slow down or avoid the oncoming collision.

The sled went up the ramp and Kurt went flying, landing hard on a cleared path of snow he didn’t even have time to recognize as the road. He heard a harsh noise in the distance while he groaned and tried to gather himself. Kurt finally made it to his feet and the (now much louder and closer) noise finally registered as the revving of an engine from an oncoming car that was coming down way too fast for this weather.

The car seemed impossibly close and Kurt wasn’t sure he’d make it out of the way in time.

Out of nowhere, Blaine came racing across the road and practically tackled Kurt to the safety of the other side of the road.

The curly haired boy lay with his body pressed warmly against Kurt’s for a moment before clearing his throat and rolling off to the side.

Kurt let out a breath (of relief or disbelief, he really couldn’t tell) and watched it wisp away into the cold air. After the initial shock faded, Kurt turned his head to look at Blaine, who lay next to him looking just as dazed.

Of all the things he expected to do after a situation like this, feeling a smile start to curl on his lips definitely wasn’t at the top of the list. But Kurt took one look at Blaine’s (horrified) honey colored eyes and couldn’t help but think how ridiculous this whole situation was. Before he could help himself, he exploded into a fit of laughter.

Kurt felt an unfamiliar tingle in his chest—something light and warm, that he maybe only had a memory of. As his laughter grew and he watched a smile spread on Blaine’s lips, the glow spread down through his arms and legs and all the way down to his toes until his entire body felt sunny, despite being surrounded by mounds of snow.

[morkmywords]

Coffee Beans | Coffee Shop au | Nct | Kun

Masterlist

Coffee Shop/Barista!AU

Length: 2.6k

Note: holiday spirit took over my soul while writing this

Warnings: None really

Pairing: Kun x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Sometimes your worst days can turn into the best, especially when you meet a barista a coffee shop with a kind smile.

It all started with the rain so it makes sense that it would end with rain.

——

You’ve had nothing short of a terrible day, your cat just died that morning and you were heartbroken. You had had Blueberry since you were eight years old and now she was gone just like that. Somehow, after a lot of crying, you managed to pick yourself up and head to work but you were miserable all day and all you did was mope much less be productive. On top of that the bus system was closed because of all the rain that had decided to flood the city and you now had to walk home and it was just your luck that you didn’t bring a coat. You were emotionally and physically exhausted when you stumbled into the only shop you could see that was open and you swore that you’ve had enough rain to last you a lifetime and a half. The coffee shop you had found was entirely empty except for one line college student that was huddled over a laptop and five textbooks in the corner of a window seat. Other than the pounding of the rain against the windows it was warm, cozy and relatively peaceful but that did nothing to quell your mood as you trudged up to the front counter deciding you should buy something if you were going to take shelter here. The soft jazz music that was drifting out from a speaker mounted on the wall as you stopped in front of the cash register, you heard somebody quietly humming along amidst the steam which was funnelling out of the various machines. You spotted a mop of fluffy brown hair before one of the single most attractive men you have ever seen in your life popped out from behind and made his way to the register while continuing to hum along.   

“What can I get for you?” He asked in a sweet tone.

You were momentarily floored by the sheer brilliance of his smile matched with his smooth voice, you thought your heart had stopped. You let out a choked cough with your eyes darting around to anywhere but him in a panic. “Can I have j-just a latte pl-ease.” You managed to stutter out before your eyes shot to your toes again.

He rang you up and gave you another breathtaking smile before informing you that your coffee would be ready in a minute and you should sit wherever you like. Behind the various whirrs and buzzes of the coffee machines you looked over the place once more, your eyes landed on a little booth in the corner which looked more like a bed because of how many pillows and blankets were covering the seats. You stripped off your dripping layers and hung them up before scooting your way into the pile of softness, you leaned your head back and let your mind drift away. You were easily having the worst week of your life and there was no way you hadn’t hit rock bottom, the rain continued to pound against the street outside as the water levels were slowly rising and you drifted off into your thoughts with a deep sigh.

You were brought back to the present when the steady background noise was interrupted by the little clink of the tray connecting with the table. The man with the nice brown hair who seemed to be the only employee working placed the large ceramic mug onto the small table with another soft smile. You tried your best to return his smile before peering down at the artistically crafted latte and immediately burst out into ugly sobs again when you saw the adorable kitten he had made with foam.

“Are you okay?” He asked in a soft voice before tentatively reaching out and rubbing your back which just caused you to sob harder but he stayed. A few moments later when you had finally calmed down you wiped your eyes on your sleeve and turned to the concerned man behind you.

“I’m sorry, I ruined your shirt,” you sniffles as you pulled away and saw his tear stained front.

“It’s okay,” he assured you, “but do you mind me asking why you were crying?”

“Well, my cat just died and seeing the kitten just reminded me of him and I’ve been having such a horrible week,” You blubbered as the tears threatened to come spilling over again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked, “I have some time to spare since I don’t think anyone else will be coming in,” He said gesturing around the almost empty cafe except for the one student who was still engrossed in their computer seeming completely unbothered by your outburst. You nodded and shuffled over on the bench so he could sit down before spilling all of your problems before him. He was incredibly easy to talk to, the warm aura that seemed to surround him made you feel safe along with his easy smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corners, not to mention the adorable way he pulled down his eyebrows when he was confused or trying to figure something out.

——

“At least the rain is starting clear up so you can walk home without getting soaked,” he said as a tiny bit of consolation. You nodded as you looked out the foggy window and just as he said the torrential downpour from earlier had petered out into a gentle drizzle.

“I’m sorry you had to listen to me complaining for so long,” you sighed, “ I definitely owe you.”

He just smiled and laughed, “I’m just glad that you’re feeling better and besides, people tell me I’m a great listener.”

“I’d have to agree with them.”

“But I will take you up on that offer of a favour,” He confessed.

You gave him a teasing glare, “What exactly do you have in mind?”

“I was thinking,” He smiled, “Maybe you could stop by again sometime and maybe I’ll listen to your problems again.”

“Really?” You asked with raised eyebrows.

“Business has been pretty slow lately and I’d like to keep getting paid.” He confessed with a smile.

“I guess I’ll just have to keep you in business then,” You agreed after taking the final sip of your latte, “I should probably start heading home,” You told him as you glanced out the window which was now illuminated with sunlight peeking through the clouds.

‘Well, uh, I guess I’ll see you around again,” He said as he followed you to the door.

“I promise,” you said with a smile and pushed the door open. You waved to him through the window before heading home with a much lighter heart and happier smile, you couldn’t wait to see him again.

----

You found yourself visiting the coffee shop fairly regularly after that under the reuse of buying coffee but it was really to see the barista with a soft smile. You felt yourself slowly falling for him each time you heard him laugh or saw the way his eyes crinkle when he laughed. It quickly became your place of comfort and safety though it was hard to tell if it was the shop or Kun. It had been a particularly hard day when you stumbled into the shop with a heavy sigh, the rainy spring had quickly turned into fall as you picked stray leaves out of your hair and headed to your usual spot. Kun had quickly come to know your habits and without even having to order he was always there with latte and pastry which always made you feel better. Though it wasn’t snowing yet the holiday season was fast approaching and you couldn’t be any less excited. Family gatherings were the bane of your existence, it wasn’t that you hated your family but the added stress and pressure of your overbearing family members and their high expectations was causing you so much stress it was almost funny. And of course the first question they would ask it if you had a boyfriend yet and the answer was always the same.

“What’s got you looking to down in the dumps?” Kun asked as he set the tray down on the table and took the seat across from you.

“Christmas is coming up,” you sighed before grabbing a chunk of the muffin and popping it into your mouth.

He gave you a sympathetic smile, “I know how you feel, family events are always stressful.”

“Do you have any plans with your family for the holidays,” you asked him and he choked on the coffee he was trying to take a sip of. You threw him a napkin and he managed to swallow without spilling anymore all over himself.

“My family live really far away so I can’t go home for the holidays but at least I can get paid more over the holidays.”

“You can come over to my house for the holidays if you want.”

It slipped out so naturally that even you were a little shocked when you said it and immediately started panicking but before you could start making excuses he cut you off.

“Would that really be okay?” He asked which shocked you even more.

“My family's motto is pretty much ‘the more the merrier’ so I’m sure they would love you.” you told him.

“Well if it’s not a problem, then I would love to come!” He said with an enthusiastic smile which in turn made you smile as well.

----

“When did you say you’re boyfriend was coming over?” Your mom asked from her place in the kitchen.

“He’s not my boyfriend mom,” you called back with a sigh, “and he said he’s coming over around four.” To say your parents were excited when you told them Kun would be coming over was an understatement, they were absolutely through the roof at the thought of their daughter bringing home a boy for Christmas. They had spent all day making sure the house was perfect and there was enough food to feed a small army, they never did this usually for the other family members coming over but when there was a boy everything got kicked up about five hundred notches. You were lounging on the couch as you waited for guests to arrive and you were a little more than jumpy, not that it was very unusual. You always got jumpy at family gatherings but now with the addition of the boy who you harboured a massive crush on you were borderline panicking. The first to times the doorbell rang it was just some extended family members but for the third time it swung open to reveal Kun with arms full of presents.

“You must be Y/n’s friend,” Your dad said as he led him into the living room which was filled with people who were all staring at him like vultures, “She talks about you a lot.”

You mentally slapped yourself before pushing yourself up and going to meet them where they were standing, “You didn’t have to bring presents,” you fake pouted as you came up beside him, “you already have to deal with my family members.”

“Don’t worry,” he chuckled, “I had to put my Christmas bonus to use somehow, plus your mom may have called me from your phone and gave me a briefing on all your cousins.”

“So that’s why she looked so smug!” you exclaimed, “How did she even know my password?”

“Thank you for having me,” He cut you off before you were about to go interrogate your own mother, “I can already tell your entire family are as kind hearted as you.”

A blush crept onto your cheeks as you ducked your head, you were about to make some excuse before your mom came over and dragged him under the pretence of showing him where to put the gifts, leaving you to suffer through small talk with your great aunt who’s deaf in one ear and only likes to talk about the state of the world’s economy. When dinner was finally called you were sat right next to Kun in between all of your relatives swooning over his smile, you were completely prepared for this to be a train wreck. People getting offended left and right while somebody ended up with mashed potatoes in their hair but to your surprise Kun charmed everyone at the table with the ever embarrassing story of how you two met.

“You two really are perfect for each other,” your grandma cooed, “It’s about time Y/n found a handsome boy.”

You cringed and ducked back into your plate covered in food, you were never going to live this down. “I’m the one who’s lucky to find a girl who’s almost as beautiful as her grandmother,” Kun cut in making all the ladies and some of the men sigh.

“He’s a charmer too,” Your grandma sight, “You’d better not lose this one.” She ordered you as your cheeks turned pink from the gaze of your entire family and Kun, did he really thing you were pretty?

Dinner passed with no other mishaps and after while you stayed to help clean up in the kitchen the rest of your family joined into a competitive game of charades n the living room which encompassed lots of shouting and thumping which you could here through the kitchen walls. When you and your mother wandered into the living room after finishing in the kitchen you were greeted by the sight of Kun and one of your youngest cousins on his shoulders, both with bright smiles on their faces and you felt the butterflies in your stomach start to flutter.

A collective scream of “PRESENTS!” went through the room as you all found somewhere to sit before wrapping paper and bows started flying.

An hour later the kids were playing with their new toys on the floor while adults chatted over glasses of wine and you sat on the couch observing, it seemed like all the presents had been given out so you were ready to go to bed when someone cleared their throat.

“There’s one last present,” Kun announced before carefully picking up a box and cradling it in his arms. Everybody watched in anticipation as he made his way through the crowd to you and outstretched his arms.

“It’s for you,” he said with the smile that made your heart speed up, “from me.”

You gently took the box from his hands and placed it on your lap, the sound of tearing wrapping paper were the only sound that echoed through the room as you opened the box. Your breath caught in your throat as you cautiously reached into the box and took the little furry bundle of a kitten into your arms and cradled it against your chest. “It’s a kitten,” you breathed out as your felt tears welling up in your eyes, “Thank you.”

“The first time we met you said your cat died so I got you a new one,” He explained as you found the ribbon holding a name tag on it’s neck. “His name is latte?”

“Yeah, do you like it?”

“It’s perfect,” You exclaimed as your tears finally spilled down your cheeks while you observed the little fluffy kitten the colour of coffee who was snuggled in your arms.

“There another side to the tag,” Kun told you and you gave him a curious look before you flipped the tag over to reveal the question written in his delicate handwriting.

Will you be my girlfriend?

“Yes,” you immediately breathed out.

“Good,” he said with a smile before turning to your mom, “She said yes!”

A cheer went up through your family who were all crowded in this small room and you looked back to the kitten in your arms and back to your now boyfriend who had a dazzling smile on his face.

[brian-slato]

[Etude 1] To Honor Raven – Part 2

[Part 1]

Valgar and Brian eventually reached the shrine after a long trek, and at spotting the fire beneath the tall Raven shrine Brian ran ahead with the promise of feeling sensation within his hands once more.

“Raven has guided you here today.”

Brian paused at the voice, looking around before spotting a tall female norn, adorned with feathers, sitting on a rock beside the shrine with a curious look on her face. Brian could only assume it was the shrine’s shaman.

“I’m here with Valgar Blinderhogg,” Brian spoke, his voice hoarse from the cold. He continued to walk towards the shrine, eager to reach the fire. “We are on a pilgrimage to visit Raven’s shrines. Valgar has brought the offering.” Upon reaching the shrine he began taking off his gloves to soak in the heat from the crackling fire. ‘Blessed warmth!’

“So Raven has told me, young wolf.”

As Brian glanced at her in surprise Valgar emerged, looking slightly out of breath as he spoke. “Sveinulf - you should be more cautious when you run ahead like that. My magic can only go so far!” He quickly spotted the amused shaman sitting nearby. “Ho! Raven’s spirit is here today - Huldra Darkfeather, is it?”

The shaman rose with a smile, “Valgar Blinderhogg. Raven has been expecting you.”

The dark-haired norn smiled warmly, “I see - I have brought a gift to honour Raven!”

Brian watched as the two norn greeted one another, still amazed that Raven had spoken of him to the shaman. ‘I wish I could know what it was like to speak to the Spirits,’ he thought to himself. That privilege only existed for the Norn, as Valgar had explained to him, and was very rare. It was the same reason Brian was unable to feel anything as they both moved and knelt at the looming shrine. Valgar had always described the experience as invigorating, as if his aches were slowly lifted. Brian envied his mentor for that.

“You are welcome to stay the night if you so wish,” the shaman spoke once they had finished, indicating a small makeshift camp that was set up next to it. The group sat around the shrine, the fire crackling behind them. “A Jotun tribe live within those hills nearby, but they know not to disturb Raven’s nest. You will be safe here tonight.”

“Ho - a Jotun tribe hm?” Valgar looked to the hills nearby, managing to spot a small campfire through the wind and snow. Two Jotun were walking up towards it, carrying large sticks in their hands. “Yes - they have lived there for generations. They have a holy site nearby where their elder spirits lie,” the shaman explained, also looking to the hills. “Occasionally we have those from the Durmand Priory pass through here to study them.” “I’m not surprised - the Jotun have a rich history!”

Brian scoffed at the two, “We saw some Jotan on our way here - looked more like drooling ettin to me. What do the Priory study from them, mud huts?”

Huldra raised a judgmental eyebrow at the young human, “The Jotun were once a very advanced race - they studied the stars and were great philosophers. Most wrote their findings on large runestones, which to this day provide a deep insight into their culture. It does not do well to sneer at them.”

Brian averted his eyes, his face flushing at the tall norn’s rebuke. He heard Valgar chuckle, “Never simply judge from appearance, sveinulf! The Jotun are smarter than you think - despite having fallen so far from their ancestors.”

“Why did they fall?” Brian asked, becoming curious despite the previous rebuke’s sting.

“Pride,” Huldra began, the other two looking to her as she spoke. “At the height of their advancement, the Jotun tribes began to view each of themselves as superior to others. Because of this, their community became fractured - and they fell into a multitude of civil wars that continued for centuries. Unfortunately, the wars destroyed most of their knowledge and technology - leaving them now to be less than they once were.”

Looking up to the far hills, Brian frowned as he listened to her words. ‘Those things? Philosophers?’ It seemed bizarre to him, remembering the grunting Jotun that they had carefully avoided as they had trudged down the snowy path.

Suddenly, all three turned to see someone approach the shrine. Brian was quick to make them out to be a young human woman wearing the uniform of the Durmand Priory.

“Hello!” she exclaimed, before pausing to catch her breath as she stopped in front of the group. “Hello - my name is Alexis, I’m from the Priory. Have you seen a Jotun carrying large totems passing through here?”

“No,” Huldra responded. “Not anywhere close to this shrine.”

Valgar frowned, “What did these totems look like?”

She frowned, “Tall - like giant sticks only with elaborate carvings in them. We were transporting them to the Durmond Priory but we were interrupted by a group of Jotun - we survived but they took the totems.”

“Ah!” Valgar responded, his voice raised in realisation. “I did just see two Jotun carrying large sticks as they arrived back at their camp over there!” He pointed to where he had seen them, much to Alexis’ despondency.

“Damn it, back to their camp?! Urgh, Kasen’s going to have my head for this!”

“We could go and get it back from them,” Brian suggested. He didn’t think the Jotun were much of a challenge - not compared to Valgar at least. He needed the sword practice too, and this was a great opportunity for it.

Huldra shook her head, “No - it is too dangerous. There are too many of them up there - you will have to wait for a more opportune time to get it back.”

“Bu-” Valgar raised his hand, and Brian shut his mouth - annoyance brimming inside him. “We should not disturb the peace. Huldra is right, it is not wise to rush in. You will have to come up with another plan”

Dejected, Alexis sighed. “I guess you’re right. Thank you for your help - we’ll see what we can do.”

Brian crossed his arms as the Priory woman left, his face pouting in annoyance. “It would be simple to get the totem! A bit of a distraction and we can grab it - why should we wait?!”

“Never rush into unknown territory on a whim,” Huldra spoke, looking down at Brian. “You do not know the Jotun like me or the Priory. They are hostile, and will not hesitate to hunt you down if they discover you have stolen from them. I’m sure that’s why they attacked that group in the first place.”

“Tch.” Brian huffed, frustrated that he was so simply brushed off. He wanted to prove that he was strong enough to help others - and it seemed like the perfect opportunity to put that into practice. Gazing at the hillside, he watched the Jotun move to put out the small campfire - and soon they were obscured in the dark.

The group prepared the camp for sleeping, and while the conversation between the two norn had lead to other discussions - Brian’s thoughts remained on the stolen totem. Sliding into the flat bed, he gazed up as he touched the small wolf totem that hung from his neck. ‘I’m smaller than both Jotan and Norn - it would be easy for me to sneak into the tribe at night! That totem won’t be too hard to find...’

He lay his head down, feigning sleep as he started to formulate a plan.

[Continue to Part 3]

[stargazerdaisy]

Ok somewhat strange or maybe even silly ask. Skye hasn't seen snow in person until starting to travel with Team Bus. Skyeward moment, please! Can be AU without any pesky hydra stuff. ❤

In the second week she was with them, he found her face plastered against the plane window, knees bent and her feet tucked under her, staring out at the clouds.  It was an unexpected sight, for once her face wasn’t focused on a glowing screen or her mouth wasn’t running a mile a minute.  She was rather still, but attention completely focused on what was going on outside.  He snuck a look out the other window, trying to figure out what had her so rapt.  All he could see were clouds in the darkening sky.  

“Um….Skye?” he asked.

“Yeah?” she replied, not even turning around to acknowledge him.

“What are you looking at?”

She rocked back on her heels slightly and rotated to face him.  “The snow!”

“Snow?” It confused him that snow would capture someone’s attention so much.  It was just frozen water.  Was that really all she was seeing?

“Yeah!” Her eyes were alight with excitement as she continued, “There are all of these tiny flakes on the window and they’re amazing and have you ever seen how different they all are?  I know I’ve always heard they were, but actually seeing it is pretty sweet.”

Still a bit confused, but not wanting to ruin her fun, he simply nodded.  “Okay then, rookie.  Don’t forget training in the morning.”

“Sure, whatever.”  She waved him off while she focused back on the swirling flakes outside the plane.  

Shaking his head slightly, he left her pressed up against the thick plastic, surely leaving a nose print.

It was sometime in February and they were in Minnesota, on a mission that has quickly become the definition of boring-as-hell.  The 0-8-4 they were investigating turned out to be a total waste of time, just a weird compilation of coincidences involving an actual freak lightning storm that had an entire town convinced Thor had returned.  Now that everything had been sorted out and the citizens assured they were safe from any errant Asgardians, the team was trudging back to the BUS.  The temperature was well below anything Skye had ever experienced, hovering somewhere around the 18* mark.  

“I’m never going to feel my feet, ever again,” she groaned.

“I don’t think that’s quite possible,” Jemma said.  “We’ve only been outside for a few minutes and your skin isn’t exposed, beyond your face.  Are your boots not thick enough?  Can you still move your toes?  Frostbite isn’t anything to take lightly.”

“It’s fine, Simmons,” Skye said.  “I’m just freezing my ass off.  I didn’t know it could be this cold.  How does anyone live out here?”

“Same as people live anywhere.  You just need to get the right gear,” Ward informed her.  “Thick coats, waterproof gloves, wool socks and heavy duty boots.  It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Of course, you would say that,” Skye said rolling her eyes.  “You’re probably part grizzly bear and actually enjoy this weather.”

Ward shrugged.  “I grew up in Massachusetts.  I guess I’m used to it.  Plus, you run missions in Helsinki and Moscow enough and you stop worrying about it.”

Skye snorted.  “Okay then, Robot.”

The team continued on, shuffling through the evening, bracing themselves against the cold.  Finally, reaching the BUS, Fitz and Simmons practically ran up the ramp as soon as May lowered it.  Ward was about to follow, when a hand shot out and grabbed his arm.  

“Wait,” Skye whispered, face turned up to the clouds overhead.

“What?  Did you see something?” Ward asked quickly, immediately on alerts and searching for threats.  

Skye giggled softly.  “No.  Calm down, Super Spy.  I meant, look!”  She gestured at the air around them.  “It’s snowing!”

He blinked for a quick moment, processing her words and turning off the Specialist reaction.  Once he let his arms relax and lower from reaching for the gun in his holster, he noticed the tiny white pieces of fluff floating down.  They swirled and danced in the wind around them.  Skye was standing still, just breathing in the cold air, letting the small crystals brush across her cheeks.  

“O….kay?” he asked.  “Weren’t you just complaining about how cold you are?”

“Yeah, but now there’s snow!” she said excitedly.

“Which is cold.  And it gets your clothes all wet, which makes you colder,” he reminded.

“Just hush and let me enjoy this,” she admonished.  After a moment she broke the quiet, “Would you believe I’ve never really seen snow?  I spent most of my life in Texas and then California.  Neither place are exactly known for their harsh winters.”

Hearing that small confession from her made it click into place for Ward.  “Alright then, Rookie.  We’ll hang out here for a bit.”

Skye looked at him and quirked an eyebrow.  “Who are you and what you have done with my SO?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, flustered.

“It’s pretty rare you indulge me like this,” she said.

“Do you want me to make you inside right now?”

She was quick to shake her head.  “Not at all.  This is rather nice.  Good to see you have it in you.”

“It’ll be a few minutes until they’re ready to take off anyway.  Might as well enjoy your first experience with snow.”  He made it sound so matter of fact and simple.

Skye grinned, grateful to see this side of him.  “Thanks.”

Something was nudging her gently, pulling her out of her dreams.  “No,” she grumbled and tried to bury her head deeper in her pillow.

A low chuckle came from her right, then was followed by kisses being pressed onto her shoulder.  “Come on, Skye,” he murmured.  “You need to get up.”

“No!” she repeated, pulling the blanket over her head and rolling away from him.  “It’s too early.”

“I know it is,” he said soothingly, brushing his hand up her arm under the covers.  “But there’s something you need to come see.”

A soft sigh escaped her and she rolled on her back.  “What is so important that you’re waking me up at - wait, what time is it? - at 6:30am?! On a Saturday?!”

“I can’t tell you,” was his reply.

“Ward, if you want me to get my ass out of this perfectly comfortable and might I add, deliciously warm, bed before the sun is even going to come up, you better give me a good reason right now,” she demanded.

“It’s a surprise,” he explained.  “I promise you’ll love it though.”

She fixed him with a suspicious glare.  He hoped his reassuring smile would be enough to convince.  After another moment, she relented.  “Fine, you win.  I’m getting up.”

Seeing she was actually getting out the bed, Ward drew back.  “I’ll go get the coffee.  Dress as warm as you can.”

“Dress warm?  What do you mean dress warm?  Ward!” she yelled as he exited the room.

Ten minutes later, she met him in the kitchen, looking adorably grumpy.  “I want my coffee and an explanation.”

Ward gave her that smile that always seemed to soften her.  “Here’s your coffee,” he said handing the mug over.  “As soon as you’re ready, get your coat and gloves on and follow me.”

“Where?!” she said exasperated.

“You’ll see.”

“Grant Douglas Ward, you are one of the most infuriating people I have ever met.”

“I know,” he grinned, kissing her on the cheek.  “But you love me.”

Skye sighed again, but the smile on her own face told him she wasn’t really that upset.  “That I do.  Okay, let’s go outside to this mysterious surprise.”

They made sure coats were zipped all the way, mittens were secured, and hats were donned.  As they approached the door, he turned and winked at her one more time.  “Here we go,” he said.

As the door slid open, Skye gasped, seeing the landscape.  A thick blanket of white coated everything she could see.  Branches were bending under the weight of the snow, bowing down to the ground.  Grass, rocks, and the driveway were buried deep under the inches of snow that had fallen overnight.  

She spun to look at him, eyes shining.  “It snowed!” she cried.

“It did,” he agreed.  “And I thought you’d like to see it unspoiled, before anyone else walked or drove around in it.”

“Can…..we go out?” she asked timidly.

“Why do you think I made you get dressed so warmly?”

The sound of excitement that slipped out of her was very close to a squeal and she took off out into the winter.  An hour later, there had been snow angels, a small lopsided snowman, plenty of catching the still falling flakes on their tongues, and a surprise attack snowball fight, instigated by a giggling Skye.  What she lacked in technique, she made up for in enthusiasm, sending flurries of barely formed snowballs his way.  Seeing she was not going to slow down anytime soon, Ward knew he needed to end the onslaught.  Creeping around where she couldn’t see him, he snuck up behind her, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her down into the snow with him.  Peals of laughter echoed against the trees and nearby building as she settled on top of his chest.

“Okay, you win,” she chuckled.

“Do you surrender or do I need to introduce this handful of snow down your neck?” he threatened teasingly.

“I surrender!  I surrender!” she squeaked.  

Her joy sank into his bones as he stared up at her - cheeks flushed, hair escaping from the braid capped by her beanie, and a smile that could light up even the darkest night.  She was a sight to behold and he thanked his lucky stars, not for the first time, that she had chosen him.

“So, was it worth it?” he asked.

“Was what worth it?”

“Getting up early and coming out into the cold,” he answered.

Skye pretended to think for a moment.  “I don’t know.  I mean, I guess it’s been okay.  If you like that kind of thing.”

“I like your kind of thing,” he said in a suggestive tone.

Skye laughed again.  “One track mind there, Ward.  Not to mention, you’re the one that made me put on all the extra layers.  Kinda shot yourself in the foot there.”

“Well then, guess we need to fix that.”

“Not out here we don’t!” she cried.  

“Okay then,” he said, suddenly sitting up and climbing to his feet.  “Let’s head in and warm up with a shower.”

“Oooooh, I like your plan,” she replied, letting him pull up.  She used the momentum to crash into his chest and drape her arms around his neck.  “Thank you for bringing me out here.”

“You’re welcome.  I know you love the snow.”  His smile was barely there, but love shone in his eyes.  

“I love you,” she said simply.  

“I love you too,” he said back, then leaned down to meet her lips with his own.