#i am looking at the empty gray sky waiting for it to snow so that everything feels cozy instead of just dreary

[eskawrites]

in search of motivation, please send help

[rillils]

i hate my angst loving self so much sometimes

think about a confused and not-entirely-there bucky screaming at steve, asking him why he left him there on the snow, asking why he didnt come back for him, telling him how long he waited for him to come and save him

FINE HONEY, YOU WANTED ANGST, I'LL GIVE YOU ANGST. AND I'LL CRY ABOUT IT 😭

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, tw: suicidal thoughts, very mild gore, nightmares, post-catws, angst is definitely not my thing what am i even doing here asjdhsjdh wordcount: 3815 a side note: while the language here is used in accordance with steve's profound sense of guilt, it doesn't reflect the author's personal beliefs on the matter - aka IT'S NOT HIS FAULT SKDLKS MY POOR BABY 😭😭

It always starts off quiet, like the darkened hall of a theater in the split second between the curtain opening over the stage and the actor’s first line. Silence, please. The show is about to begin.

The scenery changes sometimes, but it’s the mountains Steve sees most often in his dreams: the soulless gray of stone, and the blinding white of snow coating everything, from the peaks, to the valley, to the copse of fir trees, huddled together like children in the cold. Just like he remembers from that day in the Alps. No one knows how to torture him better than his own mind.

The wind rises sharp and icy, lifting sleets of frost with it, and a chill rolls down Steve’s spine. It’s not the cold, though.

It’s fear, congealing like a dead weight in the pit of his stomach. The show is about to begin. And he’s watched it all to the end countless times before.

“Steve?”

His head whips around, and Bucky’s right there, like he always is. A fixed point, unchanged, unmovable, his boots sinking soundlessly in the thick layer of snow beneath them.

He looks so beautiful, so oddly alive against the backdrop of his desolate place; a man at the peak of his youth, the pink of his cheeks nearly glowing next to the deep blue of his uniform, his hair combed to a movie-star shine, parted neatly to the side. It’s cruel, how perfect he is. Preserved like a cherished heirloom in Steve’s mind, never fading, never aging; a living picture, soft and rosy-cheeked. He belongs in a dance hall, in a crowded street, in the cheerful chaos of the fourth of July, in the color and noise of fireworks, in the tangle of ooh’s and aah’s under the firelit sky. He doesn’t belong here. But he’ll never leave this place.

“What are you doing here?” Bucky’s head tilts to the side, confused. “You left a long time ago.”

“Bucky,” Steve tries to say, but the name dies on his lips.

The light in Bucky’s eyes dulls to a flicker, carrying a heavy gloom over his features. He looks so sad, all of a sudden. He never looked sad when Steve was around, Steve remembers that – and Steve never learned how to make it better.

He can never make this better.

“Steve.” All the color’s draining from his cheeks, quickly, leaving only the paleness of death behind. His eyes – they pierce right through Steve, empty and cold, so cold, and Steve shudders from head to toe.

“I waited for you for so long,” Bucky’s blue lips say, with a mournful lilt Steve used to hear in his mother’s voice when she would sing to him, all those heart-twisting songs about a home she’d never see again. “Where were you?”

Something dark spreads from within across the pristine blue of Bucky’s coat, dripping slowly from his shoulder, black like ink–

blood

– smothering the rich color underneath, reaching down, down–

he fell

– down along Bucky’s arm, until it’s streaking the back of his hand–

blood, it’s blood, he fell, he’s going to fall

– pooling ruby-dark at Bucky’s fingertips.

Soon the drops will spill all over the fresh snow, staining it red, too.

“You left me here.”

Steve can’t breathe.

“Why did you leave me here, Steve?”

Steve can’t breathe.

“I’m so sorry,” he gasps, and the next breath stings in his lungs, ice-cold and merciless, “I’m so sorry, Bucky, so sorry. It’s all my fault, all my fault,” he chants, hands clawing at his own chest. But what will it help? He can’t undo this. He can never undo this. “I should have held onto you,” he sobs brokenly, and it’s strange, how he can never tell when he starts crying in his dreams, but he always feels the tears streaming down his face, real as his grief is real, clogging up his throat. “I never should have let you fall.”

Bucky steps forward, dark blood trailing behind him on the ground. Steve’s heart jolts like a spooked horse, pounding loud and fast with adrenaline.

“Why didn’t you look for me?”

He sounds so gentle. So devastatingly sad.

“Did I mean so little to you?”

Steve shakes his head, No, no, no, everything, you meant everything, always, I swear, tears flicking off the edge of his jaw to be lost in the snow-packed wind. “I t-thought you were dead,” he sobs, like he’s still curled up into the blown-up flank of that train, like he’s still got his face pressed to the ice-burn of its metal and praying for everything to end, now, before reality can reshape itself around him and tell him that Bucky is gone forever.

Something mean slithers behind Bucky’s eyes. “And you would have left my body to the wolves?” he says, his voice dangerously sharp over the moaning wind. “You didn’t think I deserved a proper burial?”

It’s snowing on the outside, but it’s inside that Steve feels ice gripping at his guts.

“You could have sent me home to my folks.”

It burns.

“To my sisters.”

It burns so bad, the shame crackling under his skin.

“At least then my family would have had a body to cry over. But it never even occurred to you, did it.”

Steve’s tongue feels glued to the roof of his mouth. “I’m so sorry,” he pushes out uselessly, “I’m so sorry, I should’ve–”

“Or did you think that I was like you?” Bucky presses on, a cruel sneer forming on his white face. “Is that it? You fooled yourself so nice, you really thought I was like you? Like poor little Stevie? With no one left in the world who would miss me? No one who would even care if I was dead or alive?” He pauses, lips curling as though a new and amusing thought only just occurred to him. “Oh. Stevie, no. Did you think you were my whole world? Are you really that pathetic?”

“No,” Steve rasps, swallowing back tears and still drowning, drowning in them, “I never thought, I never– Please, Buck, I’m so sorry–”

Bucky’s silhouette blinks in and out of sight, and when he comes back, one moment later, he’s standing right before Steve, so close he need only reach out to touch him. His sneer is gone, but the depth of hurt in his eyes slices at Steve’s heart just as sharply.

“They took me, Stevie. You left me behind and they took me. Look,” he says, showing Steve the torn flesh where his left arm used to be – it was here just a moment ago, it was, Steve could swear it, it was right here – the bloody pulp of it, a frayed shard of white bone jutting out through the ripped muscle, sickening. His mouth, when Steve can finally look back, is curled back to show his teeth, the smile almost kind if it didn’t feel like a knife tearing at Steve’s own flesh. “This is all your doing. Isn’t it pretty?” Bucky tells him sweetly. “Tell me it’s pretty, Steve. Tell me it’s pretty.”

Without warning, Bucky’s hand darts up to clamp around Steve’s chin, gripping his face viciously. His touch is like ice, searing painfully into Steve’s skin, and Steve staggers in place, helpless but to look right into Bucky’s wide, desperate eyes.

“I was so scared,” Bucky whispers, hot tears spilling over his deathly pale cheeks. “I was locked in that place for so long, I couldn’t tell day from night anymore. It was so cold, and I was so alone, so alone without you, Stevie.”

His fingernails claw into Steve’s skin until they’re drawing blood, and Steve can only sob, can only take it, can only hope this will sate the hollowness he sees in Bucky’s eyes, if only for an instant. But it won’t, he knows it won’t. It never does.

If he could kneel at Bucky’s feet and beg for his forgiveness, keep him warm with the heat of his own tears, wash the blood away–

“I thought I was going to die. Every time they dragged me back to that table, I would tell myself, this is it. This is how it’s going to end,” Bucky tells him gently, nodding his head. “Sometimes, I even thought I should end it myself, before they could. But do you know what the worst part was? I didn’t die. No matter how bad I wanted it, none of the stuff they put me through ever did it. Hope kept me alive,” he snarls, soft through his bloodied smile. “That was my curse. I believed in you. I thought you would find me, save me. I told them you would come for me, and they laughed in my face, Stevie! They knew better.”

The sound that spills from Bucky’s mouth is the twisted, poisoned imitation of a laugh, emptied of all feeling, sharp like fingernails scraped across a blackboard.

“Don’t say that,” Steve whimpers, shaking his head, “please, don’t say that, no.” And he’d cover his ears if he could, lock that ugly truth out of his mind forever, but no muscle in his body will move until Bucky’s done with him.

“Do you know what happened then, Steve? You do know, don’t you?” Bucky asks, thrusting his face into Steve’s until only mere inches separate the tips of their noses – his eyes staring into Steve’s, a creeping echo of insanity gleaming from their depths. “They took my arm first, and then they took everything else.”

Hell. This is Hell.

“Because of you.”

This is what true torment looks like. No fire and brimstone, no howling souls of the damned, no blazing hail raining down upon him.

“It was always because of you.”

Just him and Bucky’s ghost, and a winter that never thaws.

“Bucky...”

The snowstorm rises against him with violence, angry, roaring in Steve’s ears, spreading frost over his chest, his arms, his bare face, freezing the tears caught in his eyelashes. Quiet, it demands. Don’t you speak to me. You have no right to speak to me.

But the yawning hole in Steve’s chest won’t stop screaming at him, starved for forgiveness, for a respite, for a mercy he never earned.

“Please, Buck... please...”

Bucky’s hand guides him down, pushing him to his knees. He crouches over Steve, gaze locked with his, heedless of the blood dripping dark and thick between his fingers; leaning in like he’s about to share a secret.

“I held out until I just couldn’t anymore. I tried to be strong, for you,” Bucky says in a harsh whisper. “But you never came.” His face, twisted by grief, wet with new tears. Steve cups it in his palms, but it’s no use: he can’t soothe this hurt. It’s too late now.

“Bucky, Bucky, sweetheart, forgive me– please, forgive me...”

Bucky’s grip on him relents; his fingers smear red over Steve’s cheek, four bloody streaks, and he strokes his knuckles over them, unbearably gentle.

“I waited for you for so long,” he says, mournful. His face is as cold as ice between Steve’s hands, stinging, burning. “Why didn’t you look for me?”

It hurts, it hurts so bad, so deep inside Steve’s heart.

“Why didn’t you look for me?”

The wind surges up around them, rattling Steve’s bones from within. The snow’s soaking into his pants, swallowing up his knees, colder, colder, the blizzard’s smothering him, blinding him, only Bucky’s eyes bright in his vision, crying, accusing, screaming, screaming, screaming–

“WHY DIDN’T YOU LOOK FOR ME?”

-

Steve jerked awake in the darkness, gasping for breath, a handful of sheets clutched dangerously tight in his fist. He barely even registered the soft, alarmed noise coming from the other side of the bed.

“Steve? It’s all right, you’re safe now.”

His eyes scoured the dark bedroom frantically, fighting through the chilling veil of ice still creeping at the edge of his vision. His heart hammered loud like thunder in his ears, pulsing so wildly in his throat, he thought for a moment that it would burst out of his body.

“Steve.”

Where was he?

The mountains–

“It was just a dream. You’re safe now, I promise. You’re home.”

His gaze focused on the only source of light: the faint glow filtering in through the blinds, the familiar orange hue of the street lights in their neighborhood, casting a striped pattern on the floor. A rug, there was a rug there – and a pair of slippers flicked just a bit too far from the bed.

“Come back to me, baby.”

The crumpled lumps of two discarded socks, that never made it to the hamper – oh, Bucky hated it when he did that.

“Sweetheart, can you look at me?”

A flicker of white–

– snow–

– Alpine, uncurling from her favorite spot and slipping soundlessly out of the room.

“Can you look at me? Steve.”

He turned his head towards the sound, staring wide-eyed into the shadows until finally, the outline of Bucky’s body emerged, sitting only an arm’s length away from him.

“That’s it, that’s good, Stevie.”

There was kindness in his voice, but his brow was creased with worry. His torso was half-twisted towards Steve, his body poised as though ready to reach out for him, but Bucky hadn’t touched him yet. Good, that was good. No. It hurt. That hurt.

Steve swallowed.

“Breathe with me, sweetheart. Can you do that? For me? Slow and easy, c’mon, with me.”

It was only then that Steve became aware of his own heavy breaths, the harsh sound of which filled up the room, gasp after gasp. He let go of the sheets and lay his hand on his own chest, where he could feel his pounding heartbeat, and tried to match Bucky’s calm, measured breathing as best as he could. He thought he was going to throw up.

“That’s it, just like that,” Bucky encouraged him.

Bucky–

Something flashed before Steve’s eyes; a fragment of a pale white face, with sneering lips and blood-stained teeth, taunting him with its cruel laughter.

You left me behind and they took me.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. It was just a dream, it wasn’t real.”

Bucky shifted minutely on the bed, and a fleck of light caught the metal plates of his arm, a silver gleam darting quickly in the night.

Steve’s chin trembled. His throat closed up.

They took my arm first, and then they took everything else.

The tears came back before he could stop them, gathering hotly behind his eyes, pressing urgently to spill over.

“Bucky,” he choked out, and in the next moment he was crawling into Bucky’s open arms, curling his shaking body into Bucky’s sturdy frame. Bucky cradled him close, rubbing a soothing hand between Steve’s shoulder blades as Steve sobbed freely, pouring all of his anguish in the crook of Bucky’s neck.

“W-when you fell,” Steve stammered pitifully, clutching at the back of Bucky’s t-shirt with the desperation of a drowning man, “I should have come looking for you, I should’ve been there, should’ve– should’ve brought you back, I–”

“No, no, Steve,” Bucky rumbled, rocking him gently in his arms, “don’t do this to yourself. Please, baby, I’m begging you.”

Steve shook his head no, hiding himself deeper into the nook offered by Bucky’s neck, just beneath the hinge of his jaw. His chest felt too tight, too full – like a balloon filled with water and straining to contain it, the paper-thin skin tense to the point of bursting.

“I should have come for you, they – they never would have taken you, I wouldn’t have let them,” he stumbled on helplessly, “I would have died first! God, I would’ve... I would have died first, I swear, Buck, I swear...”

Bucky stroked his hand over Steve’s hair, kissing the spot above the shell of his ear, dark with cold sweat. Steve felt the dampness of it across his whole body, under the clinging cotton of his pyjamas, the unpleasant moisture cooling on his skin and leaving him to shudder in Bucky’s embrace.

“Look at me,” Bucky called softly. It was a simple request, laced with just the same gentleness Bucky would use sometimes to coax Alpine into his arms, but still Steve felt panic pool in his stomach.

He couldn’t. He couldn’t bear to look Bucky in the eye, not like this. Not when the truth – Because of you. It was always because of you. – was out at last.

What a scam he was. A whole lifetime spent preaching bravery, and the one time it truly mattered, he couldn’t even be brave enough to face the consequences of his own mistakes.

Please, don’t hate me, he sobbed silently against Bucky’s neck. You should. You have every right to. But please... please...

“Sweetheart, please, look at me.”

It took more strength than Steve had ever even known he possessed, but slowly, hesitantly, he let himself be pulled out of his hiding spot, and lifted his gaze to meet Bucky’s, if only for a fleeting moment.

Bucky’s flesh hand reached up to cup his jaw, working his thumb tenderly over Steve’s skin to wipe his tears away – a sweet, but fruitless endeavor, as more salty tears rolled down Steve’s cheeks, relentless.

“The truth is, neither of us could have known I would survive that fall,” Bucky said.

Steve shook his head, his eyes screwed shut against the flood of fresh tears. “I should’ve tried anyway, I should have come to you. I should have been there with you.”

Bucky grasped him by the arms, barely squeezing at all. The force wasn’t in his touch; it was in his voice, quiet to match the nighttime gloom, but firm nonetheless.

“What if they had taken you, too? What if they’d made you like me, what then?” he said, an edge of desperation coloring his voice, as if he couldn’t bear the very thought. “Do you think you could have lived with yourself, if you’d woken up one day to find that you had the blood of innocents on your hands?”

Steve’s head snapped up then, heat flashing fiercely in his chest. “What would I have cared, when you were there with me!” he cried out, panting heavily in the wake of that outburst.

Perhaps he couldn’t call this bravery; but when Steve could breathe again, their eyes finally met again.

If he’d feared he would see hate, or disdain, or resentment looking back at him, he didn’t find any of those. What he did find instead, staring at him from Bucky’s ever-familiar face, was the stubborn mark of love, shimmering brightly in Bucky’s eyes.

“Of course you would have cared,” Bucky whispered fiercely, cradling Steve’s face in both of his hands. “It would have killed you, and it would have killed me too. I could have never, ever forgiven myself, if they’d gotten their filthy hands on you because of me.”

His voice wavered, heavy with the weight of unshed tears. Steve could see the glossy sheen of them, threatening to spill over Bucky’s cheeks any second now, and felt his own heart split in two at the sight.

“Bucky,” he rasped, wetly, clasping Bucky’s wrists with his own hands to hold onto them, turning his face into those beloved palms to kiss them helplessly, one and then the other. Bucky never stopped holding him.

“Listen to me,” he said urgently, “listen to me now. We can’t change the past. We can’t, Steve.” A new sob ripped itself painfully from Steve’s throat, one he couldn’t have helped if he wanted to. “We can’t. It’s done, it’s there, we can’t take it back. And God, do I wish we could, believe me. But I want you to hear me when I say this: I am so grateful for what we have now. In the present. Our present.”

He took a deep, shuddering breath that rippled through his whole frame, as he openly struggled to keep his words clear and his voice steady. He was always the braver one, Steve thought, thrusting one of his hands out to grab a fistful of Bucky’s t-shirt, right over his breastbone.

“Steve. God, could you have ever dreamed that we could have this? I never even dared to hope for something like it, not even on my best days.”

He paused. Steve clung to him, his chest tight with emotion.

“The way we got here... Would I have chosen that? If I’d been given a choice, would I have wanted it to happen like that? No, of course not,” Bucky continued. “But if you asked me now, would I do it all over again, just for a chance to be here with you? I would say yes.” Steve whimpered, shaking his head, tears rolling down his face; but Bucky held him firmly, looking him right in the eye and nodding just as stubbornly, a watery smile on his lips. “Yes, Steve. Yes. A million times yes.”

He broke at last, and Steve lost what little control he had of himself. He tugged Bucky forward by his shirt and threw his arms around him, crushing their bodies together as if his life depended on it. Bucky returned the embrace with that same urgency, holding him tight as Steve muffled his sobs against Bucky’s shoulder, and buried his face in Steve’s hair in return.

The pinprick-like sensation of Bucky’s tears wetting his skin, as Bucky trembled quietly against him, felt like a bruise to Steve’s naked heart.

“Forgive me,” he begged, and he couldn’t have said what it was that he was seeking forgiveness for: if the pain he had caused Bucky now, or the one he couldn’t prevent so long ago.

“There is nothing to forgive,” Bucky murmured in his ear, his voice thick. “But I’ll say it, if you need to hear it.”

“Please,” Steve whimpered.

Bucky hugged him impossibly closer. “I forgive you. Always, sweetheart.”

The tightness within Steve’s chest unraveled, and in that moment, he breathed anew. Relief washed over him – and he cried, and cried, like a person cries when they’re gifted with kindness for the first time in a very, very long time, he cried until he thought he’d exhausted all his tears.

Bucky laid them both back against his pillow, chest to chest, shushing Steve’s hiccupping breaths with whispers of sweet nothings, never once letting him go.

“All that’s left to do now,” he said softly then, pressing a kiss to Steve’s brow, “is for you to forgive yourself.”

Steve burrowed deeper into his warmth, spent.

It would take a long time for that, and a tough, strenuous walk on the tortuous path towards that healing place. In the meantime, though, he could wrap himself into the safety of Bucky’s arms, and slip into a dreamless sleep for once.

[lottiesmonsters]

Brave new world...

The barrier lied of what was on the other end of it, showing various skylines based on perceived season...or whatever the mages in charge thought best. Rain and snow and thunderstorms came and went on mood alone it seemed. But outside it all, where magic sparked wild and free, the sky was a single color. A beautiful color. My color.

Lavender.

I was shades of that sky. Nori said my hair looked like fluffy candied clouds, my skin a fading sunrise on a stormy morning...my eyes the pinks of dusk. 

A way with words, my Nori.

I've heard all manner of comparisons in my long life. Enough to make me question if everyone sees me differently.

But, other than the big black horns and matching tail, whipping about without my say-so often enough to have cut it off—it grows back—I am all different shades of lavender.

As the sky was outside. Leaves met it, in bright greens, browns, yellows and deep, dark reds. Their trunks varied as much as their color. Yet they waited miles off. Just ahead of me was a rocky wasteland, gray and sunbeaten, stretching as far as I could see to the left and right. I wondered, in all that emptiness, where other adventurers might be. Nori returned from a quest not long ago, which is why her pass was expired. But others, surely, would have been out there. Yet I saw no one...

Bag firm across my chest, gifted armor firm on my skin—shimmering then in all the colors of that lavender night—I set off toward the endless tree line. Toward a wide arch bent into the branches, welcoming me in.

I didn't make it to the trees.

Close, close enough to see the river and a waterfall through the boughs. Not close enough, or aware enough, to evade the vines...

I'd been warned of random encounters, monsters waiting to pounce from anywhere at any time, but not trees. There were dryads in the city, leafy humans mostly, lithe and small and spilling giggles. Summoned things, like myself, unnatural and strange but still human-ish.

This was no dryad. It hardly looked human, more a horrible horticultural spell gone wrong. Some mage that either transformed themselves into a monstrous abomination...or made one for fun. Yet it was beautiful, enchanting in a way.

The thing that grabbed me, I mean. Towering as high as any tree, he appeared one himself at first, but there was a face in the leaves. Fangs in the smile and the trunk was a chest, a torso with branches for arms, articulated twigs for fingers, all carved so sweetly of soft greens. Tangled in his vines, soft and dry as they were, there was no question of the impending danger. But I couldn't seem to care. That greenery tightened and tightened on my ankles, more snapped to snatch wrists and lift me higher and higher and still I stared. Smiling, I stared.

I'd not smelled flowers so sweet and the closer those vines pulled me toward a mouth near the size of my head the more I shivered for its promise. For the slick pink tongue hanging from lips too full, the bright purples of his eyes.

His, yes. At least equipped as one, a thing as slick and pink as his tongue hanging low and thick from where hips would be on a man...but who could know with plants.

Cool the tongue, stretching out to lick and taste my neck and cheek. As a too long finger teased my horns, another my hair, and yet another my tail.

He smiled and…

Mm, long as my hands those fangs. It had been ages since I felt fangs in my skin.

"What a peculiar flower you are," his voice sang, a breeze through leaves it sang.

While mine cooed, as it tends to do when I'm taken by something so pretty and new, "your flower...if you want me."

Shock flashed in deliciously deep grooves through his massive face and he pulled me closer. Enough to smell the syrup of his breath, "mine?"

"Mm-hmm," I was generally better at words, at flirting even, no matter the what I'd been faced with.

But there was more at play there. Something tickling deep and wet without touching. I tasted blood before realizing it mine, that I'd bit clean through my lip.

Slow, careful, his tongue as it caught it. And I learned his voice was sweeter when he moaned...

"A treat then, an offering from that grand and burning shell?" He asked, teasing under my armor with more vines. "Waiting to burn me while I play with you."

Soft, impossibly so, each vine coaxed gasped breaths as they dug.

"A treat, but not theirs," I promised, finding familiarity in the scent of him, the want of him. Hunger bubbling with it, I had to have him. Wriggling, I managed to touch the vine in my chestplate and urge its tip out and to my lips with a tease of my own. How sweet his breaths as I tasted it, rough and slow, running my tongue along all I could before meeting those brighter eyes, "yours, beautiful...I'm all yours."

Eyeing the dome behind me, the creature smiled and pulled me to the bark of his chest. Skin. Supple skin it was, grooved and delectably rough but warm and tender to the touch. As was the arm replacing every vine to hold me there while he turned and...well, he didn't walk or slither exactly.

It was more he allowed himself to be pulled into the woods by whatever his torso ended in—dug into the earth as it was.

While I enjoyed the ride, nestled in a scent suggesting a feast in my future…

[strawhatsoraya]

Hello, thank you for your writing! Could I request a fluff Law fic with AU December/Winter Love with July prompt Deadlines? Thank you!

Hello! It's been idk 1.5 weeks lmao since you asked for this. I am so sorry for the long wait. I am also sorry to myself because idk why I can't focus more. Such is my life. You asked for a Winter Love Fluffy thing with Deadlines prompt and it made me want to write like an Office Job AU type thing. I hope you enjoy it! Thanks for stopping by to request.

Marigold

LAW X READER | SFW Word Count: 1.2k CONTENT WARNING: none, unless you hate fluff SUMMARY: Y/N has had a crush on Law for as long as she can remember, but he is difficult to approach, Law has a distinct memory of Y/N he refuses to acknowledge or address.

It was snowing on the first day he met you.

A dark cloudy gray sky was above you, as you stood wrapped up in your coat, marigold yellow scarf around your neck. Tender tufts of snow melted into your hair, and kissed your cheeks and nose until they were red; a color similar to a Fuji apple, and probably just as sweet.

You were too preoccupied with the stray cat to notice him, as you debated while on your haunches whether to leave your scarf behind or not. He didn’t see you make your decision as he walked away into the building. Later that same Winter, he saw you several times in front of the office building but never with the same scarf.

A year had gone by, and you rarely crossed his mind. He was diligent, almost to a fault, constantly agreeing to overtime. You had wanted to approach him, coming up with schemes as to take up his time. Should you thank him for his hard work and bring him coffee? Should you ask him to review your report and look for mistakes? All of them fell to the side when you looked at him. He’d look back with a steely expression in his eyes, a thin line drawn between his lips; the line you couldn’t cross.

A year had gone by, and you rarely crossed his mind, but he’d see you look at him every now and then. 

A year had gone by, but sometimes he’d wonder about you, the cat and the scarf.

The line you couldn’t cross seemed to grow thinner, flimsier, sometime at the beginning of December. Your department’s manager had tasked you both to team up for a project on Christmas cakes. You saw it as a win-win situation. You could indulge in cakes, and somehow try to get closer to Trafalgar Law. It was a golden opportunity slipped on your desk inside a manila folder. 

You grasped it with sweaty eager hands. This was your chance to cross the uncrossable line. You just had to do it. You had to.

You met on and off for the next three days, taking over any empty meeting room available to discuss on how to approach the research. You each brought a list of places to visit for tasting. A schedule had been decided as well as a budget. It went as expected. He was strictly business, and you struggled to keep your head from floating above the clouds. In the instances he’d stare at you, and ask you to repeat what he last said, you'd grasp your cup of coffee, its warmth grounding you. It didn’t provide you with the answer to his question. Something he didn’t let you forget, every time, for the remainder of the meeting.

Every day you met, you clocked out of work feeling dejected, shoulders so low it pulled you down to the ground, steps struggling to lift the weight of your regrets. You’d shower, eat mechanically, and go to sleep but you always felt refreshed the next morning.

This was a golden opportunity, after all, you couldn’t just give up.

The day had come for the field expedition. The forecast had predicted snow, so you did your best to dress warmly which was frustrating. You were looking forward to showing your cute side to Law, in hopes of catching his attention long enough outside the subject of work. After forty five minutes of tossing clothes on your bed, to the floor, and only stopping to have a good cry for five minutes, you were ready to meet him outside the office building. 

You ran from the station to the front of the building, keeping an eye on the watch on your wrist. The cold made it harder to run, your knees feeling stiff and frigid. Your breaths came in icy, leaving a sharp ache inside your chest. 

He sees you running towards him, the bangs of your hair splitting to reveal your forehead. He blinks away a snowflake clinging to his dark lashes. As you approach, the lower half of your face is buried behind a marigold yellow muffler. He can’t stop himself from reaching out. He slips an inked finger, between your cheek and scarf to pull it down.

“I thought you gave this away,” he says, forgetting his manners. You are surprised. He usually greeted you very stiffly, very formally, always careful to keep the line drawn between you. Now you had felt the warmth of his finger against your cheek. He was folding your muffler down as you struggled to regulate your breathing. Your breath was warm against his knuckles as he finished one more roll of your muffler. He felt the tips of his ears heating.

“What are you talking about?” you ask him, confusion evident in how your brows knitted together. You tilt your head, trying to see if there was an opening in his head you could slip into. He mirrors you, head tilting as well. 

“The cat, last year,” he said very simply, his frown now matching yours. “I thought you gave it to the cat.”

You have no idea what he is talking about and it is killing you. You desperately want to remember. Here was a moment to have a conversation that did not involve your current project or small chit chat about having slept well or not, and you couldn’t understand what he was talking about. 

“Ohhh, that!” you say, feigning acknowledgement. You had no idea, still, but maybe you could play along. “No, I didn’t.” It was the closest to the truth you could get without truly remembering what he meant. “You remember me from last year?” you ask, with a small smirk, finally gathering your bearings to understand the implications of his question.

He blushes, and you watch him try to sink into his shoulders and his black and white scarf. “Not really,” he mumbled, averting his eyes to the passing salary workers. “I just never saw you wear it again so I assumed.”

You humm, mischief dancing in your eyes. He watched with apprehension, wishing he could take back the words. He shoves his hands deep inside the pockets of his coat. 

“It’s so nice of you to remember all this time!” you chirp, slipping an arm around his. He freezes in his spot. You feel his body stiffen and bite down on your lower lip to keep from laughing.

“I didn’t! I said that already,” he says resolutely, a scowl twisting his mouth. You ignore it, and start dragging him along, snowflakes covering the path you walk on. You change the subject, suddenly very preoccupied with reaching the first bakery. He grunts as a response, letting you continue, as he watches fluffy snowflake after snowflake land on the crown of your head, on your nose and eyelashes, on that marigold yellow muffler.

A year had gone by, and he still wasn’t sure about you, the cat and the marigold yellow muffler.

But maybe, if he didn’t mess up, he could find out more about you soon.

[wraithsoutlaws]

“Snowglobe”

2,072 words of fluff i wrote this depressed and i don’t like it very much but it made me feel better just on the basis of how much i love them and it even gave me motivation to sketch something so im deciding to share it anyway :>

Dagger and Dum Dum head North to meet a shipment for Maelstrom and get stuck in a storm that becomes their first time experiencing snow.

“He’d never been to Seattle, but it didn’t look much different from Night City. Narrow your eyes and you wouldn’t know which one you’d stepped foot in by the look of it alone—corporate skyscrapers jutting out like broken bones, their empty shadows hanging heavy over beggars perched on the corner of each block. Gunshots to the tune of a child’s lullaby. Neon singing ads to your dreams.

Dagger gazed up at the red tinted pollution, a blanket of color spread like a pool of blood against a wall of bleak gray.

The cold was different.

And the sky.”

It was Heavier somehow, though the air felt smoother in his lungs than the rancid smoke of Night City. He kept his head up as he walked, shoving past bodies without a thought, watching as his breath spilled out of him in a visible fog. Swirling, twisting, dancing. Colored lights made it glow as he huffed, trying now to form circles, to shape the air like he would smoke from a cigarette. An impossible task, it seemed, but he didn’t look away from the formless clouds as they disappeared around him, against the edges of the city blurred in his vision.

A hand gripped him tight on the arm and yanked him sideways, narrowly pulling him from the throes of a pole on the sidewalk. Dagger only caught it in the corner of his eyes—Dum Dum quickly taking his full attention with a half-hearted scowl. He knew him well enough to know there wasn’t much anger in that look, but his voice could be deceiving.

“You hear a word I said?” His tone rang like he knew the answer already. He shook his head before he gave Dagger a chance to say it himself. “Should’ve let you bruise your face on that pole.”

Dagger smirked, a playful thing with a flash of teeth. “You said the shipment comes in at four and we’ll have plenty of time to make it to the docks, and then you spent the last three blocks bitching about how the cold makes your shitty chrome joints stiff.”

Dum Dum’s scowl twisted into a smile. His laugh sounded like a fork in an electric socket, and Dagger could feel it in his bones just the same. A pleasant spark beneath his skin that left the hair on his arms standing straight.

“It was only two blocks, asshole,” Dum Dum said, still smiling. He ran a rigid hand up an equally tense arm as if suddenly reminded of his own discomfort. It didn’t matter how much heat ran through those wires when the cold kept them from working proper. Neither one of them had anticipated the sudden drop in temperature as they crossed state lines, and neither one of them had packed for it either, but Dagger didn’t mind it so much; that chill biting at his face, a sharp, unfamiliar sting that kept the bounce in his step fresh. Or at least, he could get used to it, if he had to. Got cold out in the Badlands sometimes. He could live with it a while.

He shrugged out of his leather jacket and held it out to Dum Dum wordlessly. A shiver ran up his spine immediately, an icy caress spreading over him. He pushed it back down and waited for him to take it, but he didn’t move.

“You’ll freeze, gonk,” Dum Dum said after a moment. “Need it more than I do.” “I don’t wanna listen to you whine anymore.”

He scoffed, and rolled his head in lieu of red, vacant eyes. “You spend more time bitching than anyone I’ve ever known.”

“But here I am peachy fuckin’ keen.” He flashed a grin and pushed the jacket forward, insistent this time. Dum Dum hesitated but finally took it, a look of defeat on his face as he pulled it on, like he was the one doing a favor and not the other way around.

“Gonna clock how long it takes you to complain,” he muttered, the shadow of a smile at the corner of his lips, anyway—dropped quick as his gaze darted down to the side pocket where a ball of matted fur poked its head out. Cockroach glanced up between the two of them, noted the cold with a long sniff, then quickly buried himself back into the depth of the jacket pocket for proper hibernation.

He hadn’t prepared for it, either.

The cold cut through him like a sharpened blade, but Dagger didn’t complain as they started back toward the docks. He kept his eyes up, watching once more the way his breath faded against the sky and left the city in a haze, noise dying in his ears.

They arrived early, of course. The freighter hadn’t come yet. The sea was choppy beneath the heavy sky as they stood at the edge of the pier waiting for a glimpse of the ship but it wasn’t even a shadow on the dim horizon. Murmurs of a storm flurried past them. It might not come in at all.

Dum Dum sighed. His breath huffed beside Dagger’s.

“Royce’ll shit if its late.”

“Let him. Makes for a good show,” Dagger said, eyes forward on the crashing waves, voice far away. There was a waiver in his words he was not expecting, chest trembling, stagnant in the cold as he watched his own breath hitch. He noticed the glare of Dum Dum’s optics in the corner of his eyes but he didn’t look to see if he was smiling, to see the ‘I told you so’ etched into his face.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and tucked his arms close to his core to hide the shiver in his bones.

“Quit staring at me,” he said, almost a whisper. Dum Dum didn’t listen, gaze lingering at his side. “I’m not complaining,” he added like an afterthought.

“Sounded close,” Dum Dum said flat, a touch of concern buried somewhere behind the sarcasm. He looked like he was about to say more before something else caught his attention. A swirling white petal floating down in front of them. Something so foreign Dagger hardly recognized what it was. They watched it quietly, followed its trail as it disappeared into the water like it never was. Then there was another in its wake, and another, before the sky was filled and crowded with a thousand more.

Dagger looked up, mouth falling open in awe as the snow fluttered over them like ash. Like the sky had suddenly crumbled. It was finished with this city, and this world. He respected its audacity.

Heavy flakes snapped at his face with gentle cruelty on the wind, and he couldn’t help but smile.

“You ever see this before?” Dum Dum asked, voice halfway between curiosity and glee as he tried desperately to grasp one, only to find his palm empty.

Dagger shook his head. It had been a long time. “Passing through Maine once when I was a pup. Only saw it through the car window. Clan didn’t wanna stop.” He felt a chill on his face that felt much closer than the others and left his skin stinging. He’d almost forgotten that day, or rather, didn’t let himself remember. The snow piled on the edge of the highway like abandoned corpses, too far away to touch. Without hesitation, he reached his own hand forward and let the flakes sink into him.

More and more filled the air, dizzying almost, to look at. He stepped back, took in the sight of the docks through the cracks in between and it all seemed new suddenly, like he’d stumbled into another place without noticing. The cold didn’t reach him here, the city was gone. He thought of the sandstorms in the Badlands, how they consumed, turned everything dark. This was different, a whiteout. Blinding in its brightness even against the flat grey backdrop of the sea. Impenetrable.

The only color came from Dum Dum, eyes glowing bright in contrast, and if he could see their expression he knew that it would mirror his own amazement. He can tell in the way he follows the downpour with his head, arms stretched out, a smile with each melted flake over the metal crests of his cheeks. The late shipment no longer seemed to matter, or the oncoming ire of Royce when he hears the news. Like the rest of the world, they faded into a blur and disappeared behind the veil.

Dagger watched him, amused at the sudden switch in demeanor, like he hadn’t a stick up his ass all day. It was a welcome change and contagious. He tilted his head back, gazed up into the oncoming flurry and stuck his tongue out to catch the flakes as they fell. Onlookers and passersby must have thought they were children but Dagger paid them no mind. They weren’t meant for this world, it belonged only to the two of them and as the blizzard erased their prying eyes from view, Dagger knelt down, gathered as much of the dusting as he could, and launched a snowball with all his force straight into Dum Dum’s face.

It knocked him sideways, almost took him straight off his feet.

He looked stunned for a moment, statuesque in his surprise as Dagger laughed from afar.

Dum Dum’s expression shifted into something sinister— merciless—but most of all, elated.

“You’re fucking dead,” he snapped playfully, already gathering enough snow for a counterstrike but Dagger already had his second in hand, nailing him before he could throw his own.

Another laugh tore through him, but he paid for it as an an unforgiving mound of snow exploded against the side of his head. The cold made his skull ache, but he was still laughing, fumbling with numb fingers as they continued back and forth in the same manner. Sore and freezing and utterly carefree. They’d pay for it later, but it didn’t matter now, nothing did.

The fight ended in a draw, when neither one of them could manage to lift an arm and the snow buried their footprints as soon as they appeared. It hadn’t slowed for a minute, and they both knew that they’d be stuck here for some time, in this city, this world that was gifted to them. They’d find a motel eventually, but for now they watched the sky fall with the same amount of wonder as when it began, huddled beneath the awning of a warehouse overlooking the choppy sea.

The ship hadn’t come yet.

Dagger didn’t mind.

He watched his breath in uneven huffs. His chest ached, but he couldn’t feel much else beside the cold—sharp tendrils slivering through his veins—even with Dum Dum pressed beside him. His body shook despite his best efforts, clothes wet and heavy with ice, hair nearly frosted.

Dum Dum shifted closer. Pushed his shoulder against him. “You’re shivering.”

“But not complaining.” He forced the words out through a pleased grin, steady somehow, even if his lungs froze whenever he opened his mouth. It was meant as a gotcha but it sure as shit didn’t feel like one, and though he could have, Dum Dum didn’t throw it in his face, either. Instead, he pulled off the jacket and draped it over the both of them. The thin layer of leather immediately eased the edge, made even better by the heat emanating from the cybernetics beneath Dum Dum’s skin.

Dagger felt himself relax, melting into the warmth between them without really meaning to as a pleasant burn spread through him. He leaned down and pressed his lips against the other’s. Felt hot to the touch in comparison to his own, and he smiled. His eyes closed momentarily, and when he opened them again he was half surprised to see the snow hadn’t melted.

He slumped back to watch the unrelenting flurry, a sparkling, untouched layer that obscured the edges of the world.

“We got time to kill,” Dagger said almost absently, his mind only half interested in the words coming out of his mouth. Eyes transfixed on the storm. Body heavy and warm and comfortable beside the other. “Imagine how pretty it’d be painted red.”

“Fucking nova,” Dum Dum said, voice a low hum.

The snow swirled on ahead of them, infinite by the look of it, locking them within its walls.

And neither one of them made an effort to move.

[m-aster-of-spinjitzu]

the hues of an empty sky

Missing memories, or having two of them for one moment - not quite the same, but if there's one thing Jay's leant over the last few weeks, it's that literally nothing makes sense anymore.

Or, some Skybound aftermath, Zane actually expressing emotions about his memory switch being turned off for all those years, and what was supposed to be a 'they tell everyone about the erased timeline' fic, but it turned into a 'two characters who barely interact on screen talk at like one am in the morning, and don't actually tell the other what exactly they're alluding to the whole time' fic that I wrote at like one am- 

Also yeah, I realized too late that they split up to look for Wu after s7, we’re just gonna pretend that they waited a few days or something, idk anymore tbh, lol.

(I also didn't have time to edit - so please tell me where the typos are? 😂💛)

Word count: 4539

Prompt: crying, from @ninjago-bingo 's warm board.

Trigger warnings: the main character has a panic attack, and squeezes their fingernails into their hands once or twice but I think that's it.

*facepalms* also, guys, i’m so stupid - i literally just realized that this freaking CHANGES TENSE HALFWAY OHMYGOSH I-  i don’t think it’s super noticeable, but ugh, apologies to anyone who actually thought my writing was good lol-

---

It's cold.

Bitterly, freezing cold.

The biting chill of the air is a bit strange for this time of year, but, heck, that's nowhere near the craziest thing that's ever happened to him - not by a long shot.

He sighs, squinting at the stars dotted liberally against the black canvas of the sky.

Cole had once joked that one of them might be the remains of their golden weapons, after they'd hurled the burning mass into the sky - in another alternate timeline; one that only existed in the memories of a certain few.

Gosh - that seemed like such a long time ago.

Wouldn't it be nice to go back to that time, when he'd still thought that their powers were the coolest thing ever - instead of despising them for all the responsibility and sacrifice that came with them? When one of his biggest worries was whether the girl he had a crush on liked him back - not wondering if his friends would survive the night?

"I did not expect to find you awake at this hour, Jay."

Reflexivity, he jumps back, his mind twisting his friend's gentle voice into the- the djin's triumphant, accented one.

You're supposed to be a ninja. What good are you if your friends can still sneak up on you?

"Geez, warn a guy before you sneak up on him! I almost fell off the Bounty!"

"My apologies. I was... surprised to find you awake at this hour," Zane answers. "What are you doing?" "Couldn't sleep. It's too cold," he confesses, not entirely a lie. Ninjago wasn't 'that' far from the Sea of Sand, but he'd grown up in a much warmer area - unfortunately resulting in his practically nonexistent tolerance to the cold. That never failed to stop Kai from teasing him about it, though. He doesn't mention the pressing weight on his chest, almost tangible - or how it constantly makes him feel. Like he's being dragged through the darkness of an empty sky, spikes of fear making everything so freaking terrifying- "You?"

"I have been analyzing my memories of Pixal, in the hope that it may lead me to her whereabouts. However, all my efforts have proved... unsuccessful," Zane answers wearily, shifting his gaze to the sky.

Oh- oh. They'd all be so caught up in the chaos of the last few weeks - hey, it's not like any of them had asked the universe to permanently be out to get them! - that they'd forgotten Pixal was still offline.

"Hey, I'm sure that she's still there somewhere," he says, earnestly. "After all - she wouldn't be your girlfriend if she didn't pull a vanishing act every now and again, eh?"

The question is punctuated with a laugh, but he doesn't say that he's a little worried about her too. They hadn't talked much, but-

I can't see one of my best friends find out that his girlfriend is dead, a quiet voice at the back of his mind points out. Well - been there, done that, wouldn't recommend, he thinks bitterly. Emotional breakdowns and frequent nightmares apply. Anxiety attacks are half off, too!

It's quiet for a few minutes, neither of them seeing a need to break the silence. The wind blows softly through the sails above them; gray wisps of cloud revealing a pale sliver of moonlight that paints the sky in its glow.

It should be a peaceful night: beautiful, calm, no one trying to kill them or destroy their city - for a change.

His hands won't stop shaking.

It should be a peaceful night, but, as usual, the world is too freaking unfair for that-

He hasn't even slept for a full night in weeks! Well, not since- since-

Don't think about it! That's only going to make it worse, duh-

"Are you alright, Jay?"

"Yeah- I- I'm good, thanks," he says quickly, ignoring the way his breathing keeps speeding up. FSM, not this-

Not for the first time, the world suddenly becomes too loud - too much. Every little thing, from trying to breathe properly or even walk- feels insurmountable, because, gosh, oh gosh, it's going to come crashing down if he even moves-

The memory starts off the same as it always does.

Rubble strewn over the temple grounds, his friends literally reduced to nothing more than statues. A shot that hit the mark perfectly, but perfectly shattered his world in the process.

A poison-splattered dress, a terrifying realization.

Her well-aimed joke, but one that never fails to sting every time. Gosh, why hadn't they just allowed her to join their team in the first place? Maybe they could've prevented this- this- whole situation, if they hadn't been so freaking egotistical-

And, again, he's overwhelmed by the sheer sense of helplessness, all his power and training and skills completely useless to one of the people he cared most about. FSM, if only I hadn't used my first w-request so carelessly! If only I'd been able to escape- or, or if only I'd been able to assemble the team faster! If only-

Despite being in what must've been unimaginable pain, she offers a strained smile - a sweet gesture that, ironically, feels like she's poisoning him, because- because FSM, this is all so wrong, it wasn't supposed to end like this-

He watches with horror as her eyes dull and she stills in his arms.

She's gone, FSM, she's gone and it's all my fault-

"Jay?" a voice asks, concern evident in their tone. Distantly, he registers that he's having a breakdown in front of one of his best friends - one of the things he'd been trying really hard to avoid.

Dang it.

"I-" he tries to say, but, great, he's breathing too fast to even get the stupid words out.

"Breathe in for four seconds," Zane says, softly.

Four seconds? Time has no meaning right now, narrowed down to, like - falling down a chasm, terrified of what's at the bottom, except the fear's all around, this- this... foreboding thing of his mind that keeps yelling that he needs to run, or fight, but he can't, can't-

Right. Four seconds.

You're okay, you're fine, no one's trying to hurt you or your friends. She's not dead.

But what if- what if they're being dragged out of this ship right now? What if it was all a dream, and she's dead anyway, because all of us were too stupid to come up with another plan, and none of us could even do anything when she-

After a little while, when he could breathe a little easier, and the fear didn't feel like it was slamming into him from every possible direction, he slowly opened his eyes. Shakily, he wiped a tear from his face - as if that would wipe away all the weeks that had, theoretically, never even freaking happened.

The sky comes back into focus - pinpricks of light against pitch black. 

How was he going to come up with some sorta explanation without... well, explaining everything?

Great.

My nerves are frayed, and I have to lie to a walking lie detector - what could possibly go wrong?

"Are you alright?" Zane asks, his brows creased in concern.

"Heh heh, yeah. Probably just too many video games," he replies quickly, laughter a bit strained.

"You were muttering to yourself," his friend replies quietly. Ugh, trust the way-too-observant-nindroid to call him out on the remains of his facade. "If you do not mind me asking, what was 'all your fault'? I am sure that it was probably a misunderstanding."

You're the one who misunderstands everything, he thinks wearily, ignoring the part of him that yearns to tell someone else about... well, everything that's happened because of that stupid teapot. He's not one to keep secrets by nature, and it's been taking a bigger toll of him than he'd thought it would. Is this how Nya felt when she was still the Samurai? "It's- it's nothing, probably just nonsense."

"Are you sure? You seem... quite worried about something."

Dang it, were his hands still shaking? He presses his fingernails into his palms, squeezing his eyes shut for a second.

He's talking to one of his best friends, FSM. Weren't friends able to tell each other anything?

"Do you think it's easier to forget? Better?"

He didn't even realize he'd asked a question until Zane's eyes widened in surprise.

A forest coated in snow, ice crystals dangling from the tree branches above their heads. Plenty of screaming - way too much, he reflects, couldn't they have been a bit nicer? It must've been pretty jarring to learn that you weren't human, or that your father had erased years of your life from your mind - in that weird underground treehouse. Those crazy tree monsters - and the realization that they all had much more power than they'd thought.

"N- nevermind," he stutters, fleetingly thinking of kicking the deck. "That's way too personal, you don't have to answer it-"

"I do not mind," Zane says, a bit sadly.

Oh.

Heck, his friend was way too nice.

They gaze up at the stars for a few minutes, not really seeing them - one drowning under the weight of too many secrets, the other, too many memories.

It's quiet - too quiet.

Ugh, he thinks, sighing, that sounds like something a low-budget horror movie would start with, cringey sound effects to match.

But the silence is a painful reminder of the days he'd spent tossing and turning in a cramped cell - nothing but his worries and the bruises on his leg from that stupid ball and chain keeping him awake.

He's been trying hard - maybe too hard - to avoid being alone, avoid being in a situation where they've gotta be quiet ever since then, because, dang it, his memories always seem to fill the silence, and they're always far more terrifying than they should be-

It's easier, in a way, to be mocked for his stupid jokes than it is to relive a single moment from those nightmarish few weeks.

Almost reflexively, he grasps for something to fill the quiet.

"Heh, this is a bit awkward. It's okay if you wanna leave-"

"I do not mind," Zane echoes, walking a bit closer. "It is not as if I need to sleep. But... I do not quite know what to think of your question."

There comes the answer - or a semblance of one at least, and it's the last thing he'd been expecting.

"You don't know?" he blurts out before he can even think of trying to filter the thought. Way to treat your friend who's been nothing but kind to you, Jay. "But you're- you're a nindroid! You know everything-"

"Pixal," his friend mutters softly, sighing, and the hurt, the fear, laced through the word makes something in his heart practically twist. He knows all too well what it feels like to be in that situation - even if, technically, it had never happened.

Then- "I wish that were true. But I suppose that my emotions make certain situations much more complicated than... than they need to be. Thus I cannot give my perspective on this - or, at least, without sounding quite conflicted."

"You know that you're allowed to be conflicted, right? Even the coolest Nindroids don't know everything."

"...Yes, I suppose so."

Jay frowns at the almost subconscious hesitation, eyebrows creasing in concern.

"Seriously," he starts earnestly. They're both leaning on one of the railings just above the deck now. "Just 'cause you're a nindroid doesn't mean that you've gotta chase some kind of perfection that doesn't even exist."

He doesn't miss how Zane's eyes widen in shock, their bright blue hue glowing a little brighter - and heck, if that doesn't hurt even more than the earlier realization.

"Besides - it's not like none of us haven't made mistakes before. Hate to go all Wu on ya, but they help us learn or some stupid thing like that. Even if the mistake is trying not to make 'em, you know?"

"Thank you," Zane replies, a tired smile on his face. "Even the most advanced tech is susceptible to error, I suppose."

They've all made lots of mistakes, heaven forbid if one of them is still agonizing over messing up over the crazy situations the universe constantly put them in. It's not like they were told they'd have to face more ancient evil armies than they could count, were they?

Maybe it's time to stop focusing on events that never even happened, and pay more attention to your friends. What's the point of being part of this team if you're always scared or selfish?

"Shut up," he mumbles, rubbing his temples. What's the point of fighting if your own brain is gonna fight you whenever it gets a chance? A few seconds later, he schools his face back into his default anxious grin. "Great, cause I- I- could use your advice on something." "Alright," comes the quiet reply, his friend seemingly lost in thought.

"What if you wanted to tell someone something, but you couldn't?"

His breathing starts to speed up again, but he grips the deck until his fingers are practically bruised, stark white against his tanned skin. Not this time-

"Is this what you were referring to earlier? An event that you blamed yourself for?" Zane asks, eyes flitting between the floor and the sky.

Dang it, way too observant as usual. He masks his surprise with a laugh, but the conversation definitely isn't going as planned and, oh gosh oh gosh, what if-

No, there's no way that any of them would even believe that. Besides - no one can remember stuff that they've forgotten, especially if magic's at play.

"Yeah, kinda," and he's surprised by how steady his voice sounds. It's not easy to even think about that- event, talking about it is a whole different thing. A much more difficult thing, but also - a bit, a little bit, easier. "I-" "Apologies for interrupting," his friend interjects. "I suppose that I have not been entirely honest with you." What?

"A few days ago, I discovered a number of deleted memory files buried deep within my code."

Just like that, his whole world tilts out from underneath him.

It takes every ounce of his strength to keep himself from falling into the abyss again.

Wait, what?

Has he really known for all this time? It's been weeks! Surely he would've said something? It can't be, it never even-

The rational part of his mind points out that he can remember every day of those few weeks. Well, he was the one to make the wish - magical logic is kinda stupid, but maybe that's why he had to remember it or something?

Well then, a small voice interjects, why was Nya cursed to remember everything too?

Of course, even the stupid magical logic doesn't even make sense to the one who caused this whole mess in the first place.

"They were almost entirely corrupted - scrambled in a way that I am not familiar with. However, I did realize that certain files bore dates that have not even occurred yet. I dismissed it as a problem with my code, however..."

Breathe, calm down, it's not like he was able to process them or anything-

We agreed that no one was supposed to know! What if they end up blaming us for keeping it a secret this long, or, or-

"I mean, they could've been-" he starts, but the way in which he's nervously twisting his fingers is a pretty clear indication that he's lying, dang it.

"So when you mentioned that you were unable to tell someone something - did you mean that it was because they had quite literally forgotten about it?"

Great. Fantastic. Of course the literal robot has pieced it together by now-

He squeezes his eyes shut for a minute, hoping that if he ignores the problem, maybe it'll go away.

Okay, fine, maybe he's trying to figure out a way to fix this whole mess. Doesn't mean that he's any closer to coming up with a solution, though.

"Er, yeah," he whispers, shoulders slumped, eyes still firmly shut. Because gosh, he doesn't want to - can't, can't - see the realization dawn that, yeah, he's lied to people he's known for years and years, even though they've all seen way too many times that secrets bring nothing but trouble-

"Well, then - I would say that you don't have to tell them," Zane replies, surprisingly... earnestly? That, or he's either too freaked out to understand the tone properly. Could be either.

He opens his eyes, hesitantly.

And it comes as a bit of a shock to find nothing but concern reflected in his friend's.

The almost persistent weight on his chest feels a little lighter now, like the sky isn't as quite so empty.

Well, it still kinda is. But that doesn't hold as much weight as he'd thought it did - not if one of his friends is willing to look past that; past the heaviness of holding up all those memories with nothing his single star, flickering in and out of the darkness, to try and light the unforgiving darkness of the sky.

"Why?" Jay asks, so quietly he can barely hear it himself. "Don't I owe it to them? Do you?"

"No. Definitely not," comes the reply, so full of conviction that he almost stumbles back. Why-

"My father..."

Oh- oh.

"thought it was better to spare me the pain of mourning him than for me to know who I was," Zane confesses, hesitantly. "Not that I disagree, necessarily. I just..."

He trails off, clutching the railing so hard that the wood almost snaps beneath his titanium fingers.

It takes Jay a little while to realize why - why exactly his friend, who has access to a wealth of knowledge and information, is grasping for an answer. Because- because, well, even if someone does something in your best interests - sometimes the choice isn't always up to them. Or maybe it is, but it was... difficult, to say the least, to let go of the fact that his parents had never told him the truth sooner. Not that he blames them, necessarily - it's not like they knew that his father would pass on before he'd even get the chance to meet him - but... it's confusing, and difficult, not to know why you were left at a junkyard as soon as you were born. Maybe if he'd known that sooner, he could've asked the one person who might've had answers - although it's not like hoping for the past to change will actually change it.

They don't even know that you know, a small voice at the back of his mind points out, and suddenly everything makes a lot more sense-

"You wanted a choice," he breathes, eyes widening. A choice - like one that he'd never been given, one that he stills struggles not to hold against two people who've always had his best interests at heart. Even if they did have the right to withhold that one thing, after all they've done for him - the 'what if's' still echo in his mind far more often than he'd like. "There's nothing wrong with that, even if it feels that way. I kinda get where you're coming from, dude, and it's... super confusing, but I'd be pretty mad if my memories were tampered with like that."

So would anyone, he realizes, heart sinking. Oh, great. Not helping-

"I- I suppose so?" Zane answers, but it sounds more like a question than a reply. "However, in the same vein, it would be unwise for you to give away your choice whilst you still have one." "But don't I owe it to everyone? You just said it, it's horrible to alter people's memories and I- I-" "Did we forget... whatever it was for a good reason? "I- I mean, I guess, but..." "Then you do not owe it to us to relive something that we do not even remember." The words should be a relief - and they kinda are. But some part of him really does want to explain the crazy alternate timeline, and everything that happened in it. It's just... really, really freaking difficult.

"What if- what if I wanted to, though?" Jay asks hysterically, running his hands through his hair in a frenzied sort of way. "And I still couldn't? I just, I-"

He cuts himself off with a bout of forced laughter.

Zane takes a moment to reply, the bright blue light in his eyes flickering - a small tell that he was thinking so deeply, his processors were literally sparking up a bit.

"You queried earlier if it was easier, or better, to forget. And while all situations are different, I suppose it is... well, subjective. What do you think?" Zane asks, softly.

Derailing the conversation a bit, but his friend's obviously smart enough to be leading up to something.

Sure, he'll go along with it.

"I mean, there are some things I'd rather forget, you know? I guess we all know what that feels like," Jay replies, the statement with oddly sad air to it. They're still kids, after all, and it gets a bit exhausting pretending that their superhero lives were all fun and games - when they'd just given him enough grey hair to last then lifetimes, and enough nightmares to keep him from ever getting the normal amount of sleep his mum always prattled on about.

Sleep, heh heh. Practically a foreign concept, now.

"And I know that stuff that happens, like shapes us or something - and Master Wu would probably go off on a whole ramble about why we learn from our mistakes or whatever," he laughs nervously, resisting the urge to just fall headfirst onto the deck of the stupid ship instead of continuing the conversation," and how 'our scars only make us stronger', crap like that, but I just-"

"I'm just really... tired of this," he confesses warily, shoulders slumped. "W- I remember so many horrible things, and I-" he breaks off, laughing bitterly. His voice takes on a sort of brittle quality, way too high pitched, "and I can't even talk about them, dude. If that's not the most pathetic thing ever, I dunno what is."

"It does not-"

"Don't say it," Jay mutters, rubbing his temples. "I know, I know, my feelings aren't pathetic, they're always valid, whatever, spare me the lecture-"

"That is not what I was going to say," Zane replies gently. "It just seems that you have answered your own question."

"Gee, which one?"

"I do not know how much helpful assistance I can provide in this situation, but it is understandable to wish certain events had never occurred. However, seeing as we cannot change the past, it seems unwise to dwell on said events if you can avoid it."

Jay stiffens, clamping a shaky hand over his mouth. Something seems to press down even harder on his chest, a heavy sort of weight that causes his breathing to speed up again. Don't say it don't say it there's no reason to warn them this time-

"If you would like to tell any of us about something, of course you are welcome to. It does not to be the whole story, after all. Just make sure that it is the decision you choose, not one you choose because of what you think how it will affect others," Zane finishes quietly, ducking his head as if he's embarrassed.

The stars are still white-hot, burning away some million miles above them.

"Thanks," he says, and puts his hand softly on Zane's shoulder. "I mean, I know - that all makes sense, I guess. It's just- I-"

"You want to?"

"Yeah," Jay starts, sighing, "I do. It's just- it's not just my choice. And I'm pretty much dying already right now, so, as fantastic as making it all worse sounds, hard pass."

Oops, maybe he shouldn't have said that last bit. They'd agreed not to tell anyone about it - even this conversation was cutting it way too close. It wasn't impossible for them to put everything together - they were a pretty smart group, after all, even without their resident inventor and engineer - and Jay didn't really know what he'd think if they did. Fearful? Relieved? Angry?

"That does... not sound great? Dying certainly does not seem-"

"It's called sarcasm, Zane."

"Oh- yes. My memory now accesses the fact that people often speak in that manner. It does seem a bit counterproductive, though. Why not just say what you mean?"

"Shut it, you have no clue how integral to my life it is," Jay replies with a halfhearted grin.

A few seconds later, he remembers something his friend had mentioned earlier, and the grin disappears.

"You know that you can talk to us if you're not happy, right?" he asks, earnestly. Sure, it's not like he could always do that, considering, well, a stupid djin and even stupider magic, but it's not like he needs to. It's- well- he'll be okay, probably. Maybe. Kinda.

Zane's eyes blink on and off again, blue fading in and out. "I... I suppose that I was not quite aware of that."

Okay, they've screwed up way too many times, but this... this is pretty bad. Dang it, how long does it take for them to throw self-preservation instincts at their friend before he freaking- picks them up or something?

"However, will it not hurt those who have experienced the same unfortunate events?"

Dude, not the best question to ask someone wondering the exact same thing-

"It's been... uh, nice, kind of, talking to you. So- I don't think so, and I'm pretty sure someone would say so if it did. Besides, don't we talk about our adventures all the time? It'd probably be better if we... uh, well- heh heh, nothing."

"If we talked about the less than positive elements of them? Perhaps, but I still-"

Maybe it's the fact Zane has always tried to be there for him, or maybe he's too sleep deprived to care anymore, but this is a way too familiar situation and-

Well, not ignoring the issue would be a start.

"Sorry to interrupt, but we're family, Zane. We care about each other. And, gosh, that means that we care about you too. Memories are stupid and annoying sometimes, but we have to make good ones too, right? To block out the bad ones a bit, I guess? Kinda, at least."

They both look away from the stars now, grappling for something else to say.

In the end, they leave it be with a hug and a fondly exasperated warning about sleeping, if you happen to need it.

After all, they're family. They don't have to be perfect, or tell each other everything - even if it does take them a long time to realize that, and an even longer time remembering it.

---

The next time Jay startles awake from a nightmare, the sky is still empty - painfully so, like an ache that simmers beneath the surface even when it's not able to be seen.

The hue, though, is a little lighter.

Just a little - the all-encompassing darkness of it is now a navy sort of blue, his star shining a little bit brighter.

It's still not sunrise, not even close - but he'll take it. AN: the ‘sky’ mentioned at the start and end is a stupid metaphor that i somehow ended up liking too much to trash, it’s ‘empty’ because he hasn’t told anyone about the timeline, and Nya’s not included because they never had a chance to tell each other everything significant or even talked about it or processed it on screen. so yeah! if you read this,,, not great thing, can i send you a hug or good vibes or smth? tyy🥺

[some-dr-writings]

Rantaro, Nagito, and Kaito’s S/O got sick running around in the rain and attempt to sneak out:

Rantaro Amami:

·       “Huh? Noooo, no. You’re staying in bed.” “But-” “No butts- those are for sitting. Now back to bed with you.” You groaned as the man flipped you around and gently shoved you back to the bedroom. “It’s still raining though!” “I know.” Then as if on cue your cough flared up. “It’s exactly why you’re sick now. You can’t keep running out there.” “Ugh. Whatever! Do you know when was the last time I saw rain!?” “Two years ago for our sea-” “Two years ago back in our search in France! I miss the rain; how can you expect me to not run around and dance in it!” Rantaro laid you in bed, tucking you in as snuggly as he could. “Doctor’s orders.” “What doctor!?” With a smile he bowed, kissing you on the forehead. “Doctor Rantaro Amami at your service. Now, this good doctor is off to get you some medicine. No running in the rain.”

·       Though Rantaro hated you being miserable, admittedly he was absolutely indulging in this, getting to just dote on you completely, it was fun to him. It was also a bit nostalgic, sending him back to days where one of his sisters were sick so he got to play doctor and the others would act as nurses or other doctors and try to help Rantaro make soup, or cheer up their sister or any number of other things, even dragging one another out into the snow and quickly all of them getting ill. He missed his little assistants and colleges but… this was still nice. This also felt different since his patient was his partner. He couldn’t quite place his finger on what felt different exactly, but it did. Perhaps instead of a carer like he was for his sisters it was just pulling his partner back onto their feet… maybe that was the-

·       “Hey! No running in the rain.” “Why are you in the kitchen! I thought you were getting medicine!” “I thought a nice hot meal would help. Now back to bed with you.” “Noooooooooo” “Y/N!?” Rantaro panicked for a moment, you having crumpled to the ground. A sigh of relief had escaped him seeing you were relatively alright. “Come on.” “nooooooo” With his hands on his hips he looked down to you. “Alright then.” And with all his might he lifted you up and carried you back to bed. You were too exhausted to fight back anymore and just went along with it. “huh? Going to bed with me?” “Yeah.” He hugged you tightly, snuggling into you. “Seems cuddles is the only way to make sure you don’t go running off again.” He felt so giddy when you nuzzled into him. Even if he got stick because of this, it was well worth it.

    Nagito Komaeda:

·       For most others the rainy season was much more accident prone than the rest of the year with the water bringing slick ground, but for some as… lucky as Nagito it was just like any other time. Truthfully he might have actually liked it more than others for one sole reason. You huddling so close to him under your shared umbrella. No matter what, whenever Nagito bumped into you on a rainy day, SOMETHING would happen to either one of your umbrellas whether it be them braking or getting carried away by the wind and the pair of you would end up sharing.

·       This time was slightly different however “Hey Nagi- AH!” Suddenly a large gust of wind crashed into you, toppling you over, and you losing your umbrella in the process. You sighed seeing you were now drenched. It melted his heart seeing how you so softly smiled to him as he held his umbrella over you. “Thank you.” You took his outstretched hand, lifting you to your feet, even holding you close which really surprised you. “I’m sorry trash like me is the only one around to help you.” There it was. “Nagito please yo-” You clung to Nagito and he to you as more wind crashed by, sending the pair of you toppling down the hill and almost into the street and off the walkway. You ended up having to run, the pair of you trying to protect the other by holding your jacket over the other’s head.

·       “Ugh, of course you lucky bastard doesn’t get sick.” You burried your face behind your quilt trying to cover up your coughs. “I’m so sorry, it was because you were wit-” “Shut up. Nothing is your fault, we were literally in a storm, I probably would have gotten sick anyway.” You placed your now empty bowl of oatmeal aside only for Nagito to immediately take it and trot over to the kitchen for cleaning.

·       Upon returning to your room though he was surprised to find you gone. “Y/N?” “Here.” … The front door? There you stood, shakily taking a trench coat off the rack and placing it on. “Oh no, you don’t need to go out, let me take care of it.” Confusedly you looked over your shoulder to him before taking your hat and placing it on. A light chuckle bubbled out of you before it was abruptly cutoff by raspy coughs. “I-I don’t think you can take my place at work.” “You’re going to work!?” “Bills can’t pay for-” Your stance wavered, you leaning against the door for balance as more coughs bust from your chest. “… I’m calling you in sick.” “Eh- no!” “Yes I am.” “No you’re not!” “I am. You are sick and can’t show the world just how great you are. You need to be healthy in all ways to do that, and I will not sit idly by as you hurt and push yourself. Now go to bed and rest and let me take care of everything else. I can at least do that.”

·       …

·       Never before had you seen Nagito place his foot down on something. You stayed in bed wanting to encouraging this will. This was something Nagito wanted for himself in a way, and him wanting for himself or thinking he was worthy was so extremely rarer. As antsy as you were to get back to work you stayed home, and let Nagito care for you.

    Kaito Momota:

·       “Looks like it’ll rain.” “No it won’t.” You grumbled looking out the window. “It NEVER rains around here. Last time was like, what?  Five years ago? And before that it was eight.” “I don’t know, those clouds are dark.” “We’ve had dark clouds before.” You sighed looking out to the gray world. Winter was so dull when you lived in a place where it didn’t now… or had any weather outside of sunny or partly could really, there was nothing else, it was so boring. In winter the world was just… empty and monochrome seeming. You sat at your desk, continuing your paperwork while Kaito was leaning out the open window looking towards that ever darkening sky.

·       “… Leave.” “Huh!?” He looked to you as if completely offended by that single word. “You look too fetching with the wind tussling your hair, now out of my office.” You pointed to the grand doors for a moment with our pen before going back to work. Silence filled the room as Kaito took in your words. As much as he loved you sometimes it pissed him off how stoic and monotone you always were. “What!?” You didn’t even look up to him as he slammed a hand on your desk. “You heard me.” “Oh no. You don’t get to compliment me and have no tone! Put some passion into it!” “You know how I show my passion.” “Exactly, and that was not it! Put your all into it!” “You are handsome.” “… That was pathetic! Nothing! THIS is passion!” Taking your chin between his thumb and pointer finger he tilted up your head so you’d finally face him. “You are the most gorgeous person on this or any other world. You are the love of my life, my only sun in a sea of stars, the one who I can bare to stray too far from. You are the light of my life, the only one who keeps everything going… Now THAT is passion.” After a moment a small smirk pulled on the corners of your lips. “Finally you give my daily dose of serotonin. What took you so long?” “Eh- Did you just trick me into say-” Before Kaito could finish his sentence though you grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him into a kiss.

·       It was a rarer moment of stunned silence from Kaito, after parting him just looking to you in awe. “Now THAT’S what I was-” “Seriously, get out.” “Wait! You call me handsome so emotionlessly and now you tell me to get out so lovingly!?” Still so lovingly looking to him you pressed a button on the landline phone on your desk. “Call security. My husband is refusing to leave the office again.” “Now wait just a minute!” You chuckled seeing you so easily got a rise out of him.

·       Suddenly you both were snapped from your thoughts hearing something. “Hah! I told you it was going to rain!” Kaito skipped to the window, gleeful closing it. “You shouldn’t have doubted your Luminary of The Stars!” Kaito was confused hearing no response. He looked to you, finding you were just staring out the window. You simply walked up to him and opened the window again, not flinching as rain crashed into you. Then suddenly you were just gone, the doors to your office suddenly wide open. Then Kaito heard cheering, and looking down, he saw you running around outside.

·       “My world!?” Out of breath Kaito leaned against the open front doors of the building while you were laughing, and spinning around nonstop. “IT’S RAAAAAAIIIIIIINNNIIIIINNNNNNNNG!” Kaito just stood there in absolute shock. This looked like his spouse but… could this be you!? You were bursting with emotion, so unabashedly happy, excited, jubilant! You were never one to hide you emotions, but it was never often you showed much emotion and when you did it was more so subtle or in small bursts, that was just your nature, but this- “WWWWWAAAAAHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! IT’SRAININGIT’SRAININGIT’SRAININGIT’SRAININGIT’SRAININGIT’SRAININGIT’SRAININGIT’SRAININGIT’SRAINING! IT! IS! RRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIINNNNNNIIIIIINNNNNGGGGGGG!” Laughter bubbled up from Kaito’s chest as he dashed out to join you, dancing, running, and spinning around, both with beaming smiles on your faces!

·       The rain lasted for a few days and seemingly neither of you ever took a break, even when night fell you saying you had to enjoy this weather while it lasted before it left for years again! The moment it left though… “Ugh… Lumi pass me the tissues please.” “Sure… My world, could you get me the headache medicine? “Yeah.” You were both bedridden. It was fine though at least you got to cuddle all day.

·       “Lumi… Hey Luminary.” Slowly Kaito awoken. “What is-” “Shhh. Listen.” “……… rain?” He smiled seeing how your eyes sparkled. You both lied in bed for a moment longer loving the warmth before dashing out of the house, still in your pajamas into the rain, laughing and dancing away.

[btsslowburnfic]

The Arrangement Ch. 16

Story summary: Desperately in need of money, you answered the questionable ad. AKA-Arranged marriage AU featuring Y/N and Yoongi

Chapter Summary: Dinner at the “Best Diner in Seoul.” (Still not a date though, right?)

Previous Chapter here

The two of you dropped the van off without any issues. You walked outside the rental agency, onto the main street stretching your arms overhead. You turned to face Yoongi, “Alright, are you ready for dinner at the best diner in Seoul?”

Yoongi smiled, glad you had rallied from earlier. He put his hands in his pockets. “The best? I don’t know; that’s a pretty high standard. This is a world-class city.”

You started to walk, “It is, and I have eaten a lot of places. This one is the best diner.”

Yoongi followed you to the subway station.  “Where is this diner?” He asked. The subway was uncrowded, with not much of a rush happening on Sunday night. You each scanned your cards. 

“It’s by work.”

Yoongi racked his brain trying to think of a diner near BigHit but wasn’t able to. He shrugged.

The subway car was mostly empty and the ride back to the city center was smooth. Yoongi scrolled through his phone. You got off and you led him down a few alleyways to an unassuming diner. It was truly a hole in the wall. 

The neon sign above the door, “Dynamite Diner,” had a few letters out: DYMT DNER. Yoongi chuckled slightly and made a confused face, but took your word for it as you opened the door. The inside of the diner was clean and brightly decorated. There was a counter with bright white stools and several cherry red booths around the perimeter. Donuts sat in a display case next to a vintage register up on the countertop.

“I should have brought my sunglasses,” Yoongi joked as he followed you over to one of the booths. You laughed and put both your personal and work phones on the table and stretched. You were certain you would be sore tomorrow from moving all those boxes. 

"What is that?" Yoongi asked, sounding mildly horrified as he gestured to your personal phone. 

"Oh this?" You held it up. You had jokingly changed your lock screen to the picture you took of him sleeping the other night to see how long it would take him to notice. "It's you, looking so adorable." 

His eyes widened "You put Tubby on me." 

"Aww is that the bear's name?” You turned the phone back towards you to look at it. “So cute". 

Yooongi touched his ear awkwardly, "It’s a dog, not a bear. Tubby was my family's pet growing up; our first dog. Anyways, I can't be your lock screen!" He pouted, a slight accent suddenly permeating his speech. 

You looked over at him, trying to keep a straight face. "Ok first of all it looks like a bear, but that it was your family’s dog makes it even more adorable. Secondly, it's my personal phone sooo…. Third. where are you from?”

“What...what does that...Daegu.”

You smirked and looked at your phone again. “I guess if it really bothers you I can change it, but look? It makes me smile." You held it up and grinned. 

The waitress came over, dropped off menus, and took your drink orders: Coffee, water, and a cup of ice for Yoongi.

"Oh my God, keep it." Yoongi opened his menu, clearly flustered. 

You laughed, "Are you sure?" 

"Yes, just stop showing it to me. Put it face down." 

You smiled and complied, then flipped through the menu. “Why did we both just order coffee?” You asked. “It’s 9 pm. That’s a terrible idea.”

“I can drink coffee and fall asleep, no problem.  What's good here?” 

“The noodles are really good. I'm getting the gaeranjim tonight. I used to come here after working at the bar since it's open 24/7.”

Yoongi looked over at, watching you scan the menu. You gave so much to the people you cared about." Spicy or regular?" 

"Huh?" You asked, bobbing your head back up. 

"Spicy noodles or plain?" 

"It's cold out, so you have to get spicy." You said it so matter of factly. 

“Ok, of course. Why did I even ask?” 

You put the menu down and grabbed your work phone.  "Let's see what this week brings. Meetings. Meetings. Sound mixing? Recording. Meet with Hoseok. Hair and make-up department. Photo shoot? Photo shoot?" 

Yoongi sat his menu down and interlaced his fingers in front of his face, resting his mouth against them. “Yep. They want new pictures for social media and for the album. My next album deadline is in 90 days but they begin all of this stuff in advance for things like printing and promos.” 

“Oooo so you'll be like a model?”

Yoongi rolled his eyes and the server walked up to the table. She sat down all of the drinks carefully. The two of you placed your food orders and handed in the menus.

“Min Yoongi. Model.' You teased, striking a pose. 

“Are you saying I'm not good looking enough to be a model?” He feigned offense while pouring his coffee over the ice and stirring it.

“Oh please, I told you at the job interview I thought you were good looking. It's just hard to imagine you sitting still and being pretty.” 

Yoongi rubbed the back of his neck. “Well it's in my contract. And my fans like it. As much as I hate parts about my job, I do love my fans. " He took a sip of his drink.

“That's sweet.” You smiled.

Yoongi blushed a little, “Well I wouldn't be where I am without them, right? You have to have an audience to be a performer. Someone has to listen, otherwise you're just screaming into the void.”

“I guess that makes sense. Being on the consumer side of things I never really thought of it like that. Huh.” You sat back in the booth thoughtfully and sipped some coffee. 

Yoongi looked out the glass window at the street outside. It had been a strange couple of weeks for him and yet this all felt normal. He couldn't remember the last time he had gone out to a restaurant with someone because he wanted to. He covered a yawn and looked back over at you. 

You were people watching in the diner. You were normally only here in the middle of the night. The bell above the entrance dinged and you saw Chinsun, your regular server, walk in to begin her night shift. You smiled as you remembered all the coffee and bullshit you had shared with her. There were nights you got off work at 3 and knew it made more sense to power through and go into the office. You decided you would talk to her later if she wasn't busy. 

The food came out a few minutes later.  Hunger had snuck up on you. You went from zero to famished. You began blowing on your meal.

“Y/N?” You heard the familiar voice of Chinsun “I haven't seen you in a while.” She had on her white and red work uniform and her graying hair done up in a bun.

You looked up from your eggs and smiled,  “Nice to see you. I quit working at the bar, I just have 1 job now.” You said happily. 

“That's great, you can only burn the candle from both ends for so long. I'm surprised you did it for as long as you did.” She responded.

You shrugged and took a sip of water. “Well we all do what we have to.”

“And?.... who is your friend?” Chinsun gestured to Yoongi who was mid-slurp on his noodles. Apparently he was also starving.

“This is my boss, Min Yoongi.”

He patted his mouth with a napkin before speaking, “Hello,” he bowed his head. “Nice to meet you.” 

“I’m Chinsun. It’s nice to meet you too.  Well I'll let you get back to your meal, I'm glad you stopped by, I was worried when I didn’t see you for a while. Make sure you two come back!”

“Thank you. You are so sweet. I’ll make sure to stop in again soon, take care.” You took a bite as soon as she left.

“These noodles are in fact, the best.” Yoongi appraised between slurps. 

“I told you. You can’t beat a hole in the wall diner sometimes. So...new album in 90 days? How’s it going?”

“It’s ok. A few songs are done. I got feedback from Adora last week so that was helpful. This album in general will be less….angry. Yeah less angry sounding.”

“Cool. What comes first, the music or the lyrics?”

“They are separate completely. The music and then I see if any of the  lyrics I’ve written match the mood. Sometimes it just goes together and sometimes it doesn’t.” 

“Interesting.”

Yoongi talked a bit more about the process of creating an album from start to finish. You had never put any thought into it so it was fascinating. The rest of your meal passed without incident and you were happy that when they brought the bill, Yoongi actually let you pay. 

You waved to Chinsun as you exited. Yoongi rubbed his stomach. “Too many noodles.”

You smiled and then looked up at the sky. It was beginning to snow. “No such thing. And look. What great timing. The first snow of the year.” 

“Gross.” He quickly replied.

“Ahahaha you really hate the cold don’t you?” You said as you held out your hand, watching the flakes land and melt almost instantly.

“I do. The snow is pretty though. I’ll look at it tomorrow from the warmth and safety of inside.”

“You’re no fun. I love the snow.” You played with it for a few more seconds. “Alright let’s get back.”  

The snow continued to fall as you began the short walk back to BigHit. It was so pretty. The sidewalk was almost empty and the snowfall made it seem even quieter than it was. You took your phone out and snapped a picture for Instagram. In a few minutes, you were back at the building. The two of you scanned your badges to enter the lobby and waved to the night security guard.

“I’m heading to the studio. You should take some aspirin and a hot bath.” Yoongi said while you waited for the elevator.

You reached over without thinking and dusted snowflakes off of his hair. “Do you need help with anything? I also had coffee, I’ll probably be up for a while.”

Yoongi was briefly unable to answer, still surprised from having been dusted. “Nope. I’m just going to write. Go, rest your muscles. Watch Netflix. Relax. You literally moved a small apartment’s worth of stuff today.”

The two of you got on the elevator. “Alright. If you insist. I’m not going to argue with that. Where is the aspirin?”

“My bathroom. Bottom left drawer.”

“Got it.” The elevator slowly climbed. You took a deep breath and looked over at Yoongi. “Thanks again for all your help today. Like. ALLLLL of it. The van, my aunt, my brother. Thanks. It was a lot.”

Yoongi avoided eye contact, finding his shoes very fascinating. “No problem. Like I said, it wasn’t that bad for me. I got free soup and noodles.”

You laughed, “Good to know your chauffeur services are so affordable.” The elevator stopped on the 14th floor. 

“See you tomorrow.” Yoongi started to exit, “If Jin’s girlfriend acts up, call me.” Yoongi added as though he suddenly remembered something.

“Now that I know that’s a thing, apparently, I’ll be fine.  Thanks though.” You waved as the doors closed.

You’d be fine. Yoongi reassured himself as he walked over to the studio. He was suddenly acutely aware of just how quiet the 14th floor was with no one else on it. He walked over to the large windows on the opposite side of the elevators. The snow was really coming down now, and the ground would soon be blanketed. He opened the shopping app and searched “snow gloves.” He took a deep breath, What am I doing? He walked over to the other side of the floor, punched in his passcode, and entered Genius lab, ready to get some writing done.

--

Fuck, you were so glad today was almost over. You walked into the apartment and immediately started a bath. You set up your laptop on the toilet lid. You were going to live your best life, watching Netflix in the bathtub. You had heard of such luxuries and were strangely excited by it. You headed up to the loft area, randomly grabbed a stuffed animal and threw it onto Yoongi’s bed. You grabbed the aspirin and smiled as you passed the Pikachu you had yeeted onto Yoongi’s comforter and imagined his annoyance when he discovered it. Ah, it made you laugh. You grabbed yourself some water from the kitchen and headed off to soak away your soreness and forget the day. You paused briefly to admire the snow coming down in full force now. So beautiful.  NEXT CHAPTER

@lidda  @anpanman-sonyeondan   @firefairy1  @cuteipat  @sugaslittlekookies  @janeelizabeth1216 @deeepvibes @gxldenhunny @livelyjay @niniita-ah @bobbyboops @honeysunandsoil @deathkat657 (i missed your tag for the last chapter, so sorry!!)

[dadolorian]

Seven Days of Valentines, (Diamonds and Daddies side story) Whiskey x F!Reader CH 4

A/N: Thanks to @talesfromtheguild​ for Beta reading and helping me with many ideas for this! This will be a weekly series leading up to Valentines Day

I try to keep Readers physical appearance as open as possible for this story, but please note in these chapters shes going to become more of a ‘character’, some specific interests of hers are going to come into play.

This is canon to the main Diamonds and Daddies story, but i am uploading as its own thing. You do not need to have read Diamonds and Daddies to read this, just know its a fic about Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels being a Sugar Daddy and the reader is a professional Sugar Baby.

Fandom: Kingsman the golden circle Ship: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x Cis F!reader Warning/tags: established relationship, P in V sex, fingering, Oral ( F receiving) , multiple orgasms, over stimulation, dirty talk, Daddy kink, DD/LG/BDSM style relationship, creampie, unprotected sex (wrap it up irl) checking of safe word, possessive language, aftercare, toys, squirting, pussy slap, nipple/clit pump, some mild fluff

Let me know if i forget anything

Word count: 6K +

My master list Seven days of Valentines masterlist AO3 LINK Buy me a Kofi

Summary: Whiskey whisks his Sugar baby away for a romantic Valentine’s getaway. Day four, jack gift Honey Bee a special gift. 

Thursday 12th of February

As promised, you were left with a very sore and tender pussy. 

You awoke in uncomfortable pleasure with Jack's face buried between your legs, devouring you as if he hadn’t had his fill of you less than eight hours earlier. 

Lazily, you tried to push him away with your hand, in a feeble attempt to fall back to sleep, however thanks to your lingering sensitivity and the skill of his tongue he managed to coax you to orgasm despite your meager attempt to recede back into sleep.

You whimpered, grogginess clear in your high whines, as Jack lapped you up, savoring your taste before beginning to kiss his way up your body, pushing up his t-shirt you still wore to kiss at more of your soft skin. He gravitated towards your lips finally, lazily melding his mouth to yours. You tasted yourself on his tongue, alongside that taste you couldn’t describe as anything other than Jack. You moaned together, as if relieved to be connected once again finally.

Strong, familiar arms wrapped around you and lifted your hips to his, he hissed into your kiss as your soaked core rubbed up against his erection through his sweatpants.

“Is your sore pussy up to taking Daddy this morning?” he asked when you finally separated your lips from one another. His voice was raspy with sleep and need.

“If I'm not too sensitive for you to eat me out before I’ve even woken up, then I’m sure I can take your cock Daddy,” you cooed, giggling at the way his eyes darkened and the  hungry look he gave you as he quickly hooked his sweats under his cock and balls.

“If you can still take me after last night, then clearly I didn't do a good enough job,” he teased before he pushed himself inside you with a satisfied groan.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Even with Jack’s morning distraction he had the two of you out the door, before noon, dressed ready in warmer clothes than usual due to the reported snowfall.

He took you to Piazza Navona, it was beautiful, even with the overcast gray sky, thanks to the cold February air it was not as busy as you expected, giving you and Jack plenty of space to roam about the decadent square to observe the beauty of the architecture and fountains.

Snow covered the ground, which did not dampen your experience in the slightest. Jack promised to ‘make up for it’ in the future by taking you back in warmer months, but you silenced his worries with a kiss. 

“I am thrilled we are here, even if it's cold, I don't need blue skies and sunshine to appreciate any of this Jack.” 

He gave you a soft smile in return, feeling some of his worry lift.

“I still want to take you back here Sugar, one day.” 

“I would love that, I just don't want you thinking I'm somehow disappointed because you took me here in late winter. I love it Jack, thank you.” 

You shared a deep kiss in front of one of the fountains, as the only two people in the square. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were equally as excited when Jack took you to your next location for the day, and found it was just as empty as Piazza Navona. Trevi fountain was covered in snow, the blanket was growing steadily thicker as snow began to fall, Jack was grateful he had the foresight of an umbrella that day, opening it up and pulling you to his side as you both made your way over to the famed fountain.

“This is amazing, that we get to experience such a place, just the two of us” you whispered, leaning your head on his shoulder, huddling closer to him against the cold.

“It seems surreal Darlin,” he hummed beside you, kissing the crown of your head. “It’s like we’re the only two people in the world.”

You giggled. “Hmmm, and is this what we would do? If we were? Travel around, seeing the sights?” 

“If it were just the two if us, I would want nothing more than just to explore the rest of the world with you, Honey Bee,” he smiled. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You flipped through photos you had taken that morning on your phone as you sat in the passenger seat, Jack beside you holding your free hand as the driver took you to wherever he had planned for your lunch. 

You giggled at one particular photo, Jack was pulling a face into the camera as he would often do when in a playful mood.

“Send me them when you get a chance Darlin,” he said warmly beside you, smiling at your smile. You gave him a nod before swiping through more. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lunch, as it turned out, was very similar to yesterday's lunch, as Jack had surprised you with another workshop. However, this time you were taking a pizza class. 

Your stomach growled as you entered the warm Pizzeria, shrugging off the thick winter coats you wore and hanging them up. You were grateful for the change in temperature as you both cleaned off the snow clinging to the rest of your clothes before joining the small class. 

You decided to spend the time this lesson enjoying the experience more than teasing Jack, who seemed just as agreeable to the notion as you stood side by side at your station, listening to your instructor. 

You had a lot of fun, Jack kneaded the dough for you as you stood to the side, admiring his arms as he rolled up his sleeve and got to work. As the dough was stored away to rise, you cleaned your station together, sitting down to decide what toppings you each wanted. 

Your pizza base was an uneven circle, Jack rolling it out once they were all deemed acceptable. You giggled at the lopsidedness of it, taking a quick photo of Jack’s pout as you giggled over your lumpy pizza base. 

Together you made the sauce and spread it on your base, before you were finally allowed to decorate it with toppings. Before you could start, Jack made an equally uneven heart shape out of your shredded mozzarella, and with sauce bottle in hand,  he managed to write  a very messy “JD ❤️ HB” 

You ‘awwed’ at the gesture, quickly snapping a picture of Jack next to his creation, smiling proudly. 

“How very ‘cheesy’ of you,” you joked lamley, making Jack groan.

You finished putting the rest of your toppings on before you were finally allowed to deliver your pizza to the pizza oven. Jack was thrilled to get to use the large wooden pizza peel, and you made sure to take a video of Jack putting your pizza in the large oven to cook with help from the instructor. 

While your lunch cooked you cleaned everything up, leaving your station as spotless as you found it. When the food was ready you and Jack sat at the tables, alongside other couples, chatting away happily as you all ate together, his arm around you lazily. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were surprised when Jack led you back to the hotel much earlier than you expected, having just finished lunch and bundling back up in your coats to brave the increasing snow.

You weren't complaining though, as you entered the lobby just as the snow had started to become a blizzard, more than happy to escape the cold for the rest of the day. 

You were taken back to your room, and perhaps a little disappointed as you entered the bedroom, finding no gifts laid out. 

Jack took notice, chuckling and kissing your cheek.

“Later Honey, we’re only stopping by to get rid of our winter gear,” he said warmly, shedding his coat once more and changing into some comfortable lounging clothes. He encouraged you to do the same, so quickly you dressed into a large baggy sweater dress, warm leggings and soft ugg boots. He took your hand once you were ready, and just as quickly as you had arrived to your suite, you were swept away to some unknown part of the hotel. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were delighted when you passed through two large glass doors to what you could only describe as a mini spa resort. 

The air was warm and misty, smelling vaguely of vanilla and pine, tiled floors made shoes click as they passed over it, the walls were gray, with a large mural walk behind the tall reception desk. The hotel's logo stood out on the mural of trees, and sitting underneath, behind the desk were two petite young women who greeted you with a smile. 

“Mr Daniels?” one of them asked in a strong italian accent. 

Jack smiled and nodded, pulling you with him as you were led down a short hallway to the side, and then into a changing room where robes and towels waited for you. 

You both undressed in your cubicles, putting on the towels and plush white robes provided for you. Jack took your hand back once the two of you were ready for whatever treatment you were about to get. 

As usual, Jack had spared no expense, and the two of you were treated to a full spa experience. Jack had even gone the extra mile to give you a full beauty treatment as an added bonus. 

You were able to relax in the Sauna together, your head resting on Jack’s shoulder as the heat sweat away your stresses. That was followed up by your beauty treatment. Mani and pedi, facial, exfoliation, face mask, eye mask, you experienced the full works, all while Jack cooled off in an Ice bath.

You enjoyed your pedicure along with a small sample of fruits and sandwich , followed up with a delicious slice of decadent cake, and a glass of champagne. 

And the entire spa experience was topped off with a couples massage. 

Jack reached across the small gap between your tables whenever he could to hold your hand in his. Any tension you had in your body melted away thanks to the expert hands of your masseuse and the scented oils coating your skin. 

Sighing, you closed your eyes, trying hard not to fall asleep due to your extremely relaxed state, waiting to enjoy the feeling as much as possible by not drifting off. 

You giggled, along with your masseuses when Jack's steady snore revibriated along the tiled walls, his hand relaxing in your grip as he drifted off, completely and utterly relaxed.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time your massage had ended you were feeling more loose and relaxed than you had ever felt in your life, you rolled your shoulders with a content sigh, loving how loose your muscles felt. 

“Damn Darlin, I didn't even realize my back was hurting so much until the pain went away,” Jack sighed beside you, taking your hand as you made your way back to the changing room to shower off the oil still coated to your skin. 

“You enjoy your beauty treatment?” he asked, taking your hand in his once you were dressed, inspecting your manicure and affectionately stroking your fingers with his. 

“Yes,” you nodded smiling at him. “Thank you.” 

He smiled back and kissed your forehead. “Not that you need a beauty treatment Darlin, you’re already stunning,” he said, making you blush. 

Washed, dried, and dressed you made your way back to your suite together.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------  

As he had promised earlier, gifts were now laid out on the bed, you bounced over to them excitedly, making Jack chuckle at your eagerness. Three boxes, with no clothes set out that evening, which surprised and intrigued you. As expected, one of  the boxes contained a lingerie set, red and lacy, but unlike the other set the had bought for you so far, they were not intended to be practical, usable underwear as well, as the cups of the ‘bra’ were not there, the lace would perfectly frame your breasts, leaving them exposed for Jacks viewing pleasure. The ‘panties’ were matching, crotchless, this set was purely to wrap you up nice and pretty leaving everything open to Jack so he would not have to remove a single piece from you to get what he wants. 

He growled softly behind you, wrapping his arms around you to kiss at your neck. “Gonna look so good in that Darlin,” he said, voice deep with lust already at the thought of you wearing it. 

“Open the others” 

You placed the first box down back on the bed, reaching for the next closest box and lifting the lid. Instantly you felt yourself growing wet at the sight of its content. 

“I hope after last night you won't be too sore to play with these tonight,” Jack’s teasing voice tickled your neck as you stared down at the toys in the box. 

So far, in the short time you had been together you had experimented with toys only a handful of times, and so far, they had been simple bullets and vibes. Evidently tonight, Jack wanted to be a bit more, experimental. 

One simple, silver bullet vibe, a finger vibe, a silicone egg attached to a silicone string you could only guess vibrated, and the largest dildo you had ever seen in person. Your heart was beating fast in anticipation, and you were sure Jack could feel it with his lips latched to your pulse point. 

“Open the last one,” he rasped.

You almost dropped the box as you opened it, overwhelming anticipation making you shake as you stared down at a toy you had only ever dreamed about being used on you. 

Nipple and clit pumps, you were certain Jack was planning on a night just as intense as the last night, and you were more than looking forward to it. 

“Go, get changed, I’ll be waiting for you.” 

You were quick to change in the ensuite, touching up your hair in the mirror and re-applying Jacks favorite mascara. When you came back out to the bedroom, dressed in the exposing red number, Jack was laid out on the bed, even more exposed than you, completely nude as he lay back with a cocky grin, slowly pumping his hardening cock. 

You feigned feeling bashful, hiding half of your body behind the door frame and avoiding his eyes. He chuckled, becoming you over with his finger. 

“No need to feel shy Darlin, you look good enough to eat,” he hummed, still stroking his cock slowly with one hand while the other was open to you in invitation. You padded over the soft carpet, still pretending to feel shy. As soon as you were in reach he pulled you to the bed, pushing you onto your back and bending over you to give you a kiss. 

“I really could eat you up, you sexy little thing,” he teased, his fingers dancing across your skin to the lacy edges of your ‘bra’, the pads of his fingers brushing against your bare breasts as he played with the lace. 

“These,” he said, squeezing your breasts, weighing them in his palm. “A meal fit for a king,” he continued, growling before dipping his head further to mouth at your breasts. He lavished attention to them, making sure to toy with the one not currently in his mouth with his hand, squeezing, kneading the flesh in his large calloused hands, and tweaking your nipple while he licked and suckled on the other one. 

You moaned, already aroused just by looking at the toys he had selected for that night, but even further so now. You felt your arousal leak out of you, with no barrier to hold it thanks to the lack of material covering your centre. 

Jack switched, making sure each of your breasts felt the attention of his mouth, you looked down at him, and found him staring back at you with intense, dark eyes, watching your every reaction, every gasp and moan. 

“Fuck, I love your tits,” he moaned agaisnt your skin, placing a few soft kisses to your peaked nipples before pulling away. His hand stroking the flesh of your thigh as he sat up, erection proudly twitching against his stomach. 

“Which of those toys caught your attention most, baby?” He asked, positioning you gently further back on the bed. 

“T-the pumps,” you answered truthfully, rubbing your coated thighs together in anticipation as Jack got up off the bed to collect the boxes. 

“Yeah? You want Daddy to torture your nipples and poor little clit?” he asked, setting the boxes beside you on the bed. 

You nodded up at him eagerly. 

“Daddy will do just that,” he promised, picking out the finger vibe from the box and sliding it over his index, switching it on so it buzzed lightly. “But I want to try them all out on you baby.” 

His finger started at your nipples, trailing slowly down your body until he reached your clit, circling it gently so the vibrations barely tickled you. You whined, lifting your hips , trying to gain more pressure to your clit, but Jack slapped your thich in warning. 

“You take what Daddy gives you,” he reminded you, torturing you further by rubbing his vibrating finger over your clit directly, so lightly you could only just feel the promise of the vibrations against your swollen bud. 

“Daddy please,” you whined, pouting when he chuckled at you, not taking pity on you. 

“Patience is a virtue sugar,” he teased, leaning over to rasp in your ear. “Daddy will will make you cum so hard so much it fucking hurts if you be good for me.”

You moaned, knowing full well Jack always kept his promises if you behaved for him. 

“Imagine that big one inside you,” he continued, knowing full well his words could turn you on just as much as his touches. “I wanna see your sweet little peach of a pussy stretch around that, your hungry little hole taking that massive cock, fuck, I bet it would hurt to cum around that thing, your cunt stretched so much and tightening around that, fuck I could cum just imagining that.” 

You moaned again, nodding your head and silently begging for just that, wanting to please him, wanting that painful pleasure. 

Your eyes were closed, imagining his little fantasy, how good it would feel when he surprised you by pushing the vibe right onto your clit, making you yelp. 

“We’re gonna start small, and make our way up,” he said, sitting back up to watch you writhe under the pleasure of the vibe. “It’s going to be another long night Baby girl.” 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jack had successfully made you cum with the finger vibe without ever sliding anything inside you, and had slowly worked you open with the small silver vibe, pumping it in and out of you slowly, bringing you back to the edge of pleasure before abandoning it to the side. You whined in frustration as he took his sweet time picking the next toy, much to your annoyance. There were two toys left in that box and you knew he was going to end with the larger one. He was simply trying to rile you up. 

Deciding you were being just a bit too bratty with your complaints, he gave your pussy a harsh slap.

“Patience Baby,” he warned with a growl. “That's your second warning!” 

You bit your lip, trying to silence yourself as he pretended to decide which toy to use. 

Eventually he picks up the silicone egg and returned to his previous position between your legs, laying on his stomach so he could watch up close. 

He turned the egg on, feeling it buzz in his palm before slowly pushing it inside you, cooing gently about how good your pussy looked, framed by your panties as it stretched around the widest part of the egg. Shoving it inside you as deep as it could reach he watched with fascination how slick leaked from you with each powerful buzz. 

“Remember, you can’t cum until Daddy says you can,” he laughed before licking up your arousal with a moan. You heard him whisper against your folds how you tasted so good. 

You were focusing hard on not cumming until he said so, but that was made far more difficult when he took a hold of the silicone ‘string’ attached to the toy, slowly pulling it down your channel and stretching your hole again. 

You keened, arching your back and trying so hard to wait for his permission. He repeated the action, pushing the vibrating egg deep inside you before slowly pulling it out, stopping when you stretched around the widest point. He watched entranced, growling hungrily every time your entrance stretched around it. 

He kissed your clit, circling his tongue around it, drinking up your moans. 

“Fuck baby, watching my sweet little cunt stretch like this, just makes me want to see what else I can fit in you,” he moaned, lapping up at your folds now. “Im gonna buy the biggest fucking toy I can find when we get home, we’re gonna find your limit one day.” 

His lips latched onto your core, eating you out vigorously, and still playing with the toy with his hand, he was struggling to grip it securely with how much you were leaking. 

He shoved the toy back inside, pushing up right against your g-spot as he began suckling your clit. 

You shrieked, trying not to wriggle too much as you begged, helplessly, for permission. 

“Daddy! Please! Please! Pleasepleaseplease!” You wailed. Looking down at him, between your legs, eyes watching you intently again, you saw him nod. 

Permission. 

You thanked him with a cry as you arched further off of the bed, pushing your hips up into his mouth as he drank down your release, tongue lapping at your hole beside the silicone still hanging out of you. You clenched down around the toy, shaking as your walls contracted  around the vibrations. 

“Daddy!” You whined, slowly rocking your hips into his face as you rode out your orgasm. As the waves of pleasure washed away, Jack ever so slowly pulled the toy out of you, kissing your clit in praise as he did so. You whimpered, sensitive as he kissed you there. 

He cooed again as you stretched around the toy, watching as he pulled it out at a snails pace, enraptured at the sight. 

“My pretty little pussy,” he praised, diving to lap up at you again once the toy popped out of you. You mewled, lazily trying to push him away, but he wouldn't be denied his sweet treat. 

Jack tossed the toy to the side and crawled up your body, lifting your thighs around his waist. Teasingly, he rocked his hips so his cock, now leaking pre-cum onto your skin.

“Daddy wants to be inside his pretty little pussy,” he rasped. “I know you’re sensitive baby, oohhh but daddy wants to make you a creamy mess before you take that big one, I need you slick with both our cum before I stretch you out with that thing.” 

He was rambling, but watched your expression carefully as he lined himself up with your hole, smearing his pre-cum around your folds, waiting for any kind of refusal before pushing his hips forward and filling you easily thanks to his attentions with the egg. 

“Fuck, there we go,” he groaned when the flesh of your ass met his thighs. Bottoming out inside of you. You moaned loudly as he filled you up, feeling his tip meet your innermost wall. “I aint ever been in a pussy this good Baby.”

Having neglected his cock for so long, choosing to pleasure you ahead of himself, Jack didn’t bother wasting time building up a slow and steady pace. He pounded into you hard and fast as he always did when chasing his own release and slaps echoing in the room. 

He crashed his lips on yours, noses bumping together as the taste of your cum flooded your mouth. The kiss was sloppy, and messy, but Jack desperately seemed to need his mouth on yours as his hips rammed yours. You could tell by his desperation he would not last long, he rarely did when he had aroused himself so much by pleasuring you.

Once, twice, three times he bucked into you hard before warm cum flooded your insides, he pulled your bottom lip into his mouth and bit hard, but not hard enough to draw blood, groaning loudly. 

You didn’t complain about the fact that he had sought his own release as he lazily pulled out of you, pushing his seed back inside you with his thumb, knowing full well he intended to make you cum at least once more that night. 

“Baby,” he sighed, licking his thumb clean of your combined releases. “What's your color? You still good to try take that big one?”

“Green Daddy,” you sighed, settling into the pillows comfortably, preparing yourself for the challenge. 

“My perfect girl,” he said proudly, kissing your cheek and retrieving the toy. 

You knew there were larger toys out there, but this would be the largest you had ever taken personally, it was bigger than Jack, who was already an impressive size himself. He placed the toy beside you on the bed before opening the bedside drawer for a bottle of lube.

“I know you’re wet Darlin, you’re always wet for me, your horny little cunt’s always up for more, isn’t she? But we still need to prep you” he said, coating his fingers in lube and putting two in you straight away. The artificial lube, mixed with both of your cum made obscene noises as Jack pumped his fingers and stretched you open. 

“Daddy can get hard again on that noise alone Honey Bee,” he chuckled, laughing harder as your eyes widened as you glanced down at his spent, wet cock that was already twitching with interest.  

You bit your lip and wiggled slightly, stopping when his eyes cut back to your face in warning. 

“Are you going to take me again Daddy?” You asked as a third finger pushed inside you. 

“Ohhh, you can bet on it Baby,” he moaned, watching your hole stretching around his fingers. When he managed to fit a fourth, large finger inside you, he stretched you wide open so he could stare into your hole, groaning at the sight. 

“My perfect little cunt,” he whispered before spitting into your hole, giving you an obnoxiously cocky grin before pulling his fingers free and shoving them in your mouth to clean. 

Obediently you lapped them up, cleaning your combined cum and lube off of his fingers while his free hand opened the bottle again. Once he deemed his fingers acceptably clean he pulled them out of the hot cavern of your mouth and picked up the toy, coating it generously in lube. 

“You sweet little pussy’s gonna look so good taking this,” he growled, shoving your legs apart as wide as they could go and lining the tip of the toy up at your entrance. He was extremely careful, as he pushed it forward, watching your reaction carefully for any sign of discomfort. Even with the stretching and copious slick from the lube and cum it was a struggle to take, the stretch was burning and so far he had only pushed  the tip in. Jack paused, waiting patiently for your face to relax as he slowly pulled the toy out, then back in, pushing just a little bit deeper each time, pausing, waiting for you to adjust each time you grimaced. 

It took a lot of hard work, but with both your efforts the toy was eventually pushed as deep as it could go. You both moaned in unison once the toy could go no deeper. Jack laid down on his stomach, between your legs, staring longingly once again at the stretch of your pussy. 

“Baby,” he cooed in adoration, running this finger around the toy where your hole stretched around it, making you whimper. “Look at that, fuck, just imagine how much we could get to fit in you with practice. Your sweet, tiny little pussy’s stretched so wide, Can’t wait to make you cum on that, bet it’s gonna hurt, make you cry, sweet thing.” 

You were stretched so wide that the arousal you felt at his words could not escape, simply filling you up further, making you whine. 

“Wait here, hold your legs open,” he ordered getting up off the bed, you noticed he was hard again already, having worked himself up watching you stretch around the new toy. 

He picked up the last box.

Oh. 

You had forgotten about that.

Jack gently picked up the pumps before returning to you, gently attaching the suction cups to each nipple and your clit. He loved how your breasts look, framed by the ‘bra’, pump attached to your nipples. 

“Gonna make you cum so hard, it’ll hurt so good baby,” he rasped, voice deep and gravely with lust. 

He squeezed the pump gently in one hand, watching how you would react with fierce intensity and hunger. The first pump was just enough to feel a slight suction, a mild sensation, but he continued to pump away slowly, watching the way your nipples began pulling up into the clear cups. He groaned at the sight, and once your nipples and clit started to feel the tight suction you whined loudly in both pain and pleasure, unintentionally squeezing around the large toy inside you still. 

Without warning Jack repeatedly squeezed the pump hard and fast, startling you with the sudden, constant suction.

“Ahhhh! Daddy!” You yelped, struggling to keep still for him.

“You know your words,” he reminded you. “They’re there if you need them.” 

You shook your head no, wanting that painful orgasm he promised you and was intent on giving you. 

You were sobbing as he pumped away, clit and nipples red and raw as they were pulled up into the cups, there would be marks in the morning, no doubt about that. 

It was painful, but incredibly arousing at the same time, they had never been this sensitive before, this abused and your head was swimming in the delirium of it. 

Jack jerked himself off with his free hand above you, as you squirmed beneath him, the painful, burning stretch of the toy, and the constant and the arduous suction on your most sensitive parts were driving you insane. 

To torment you further, Jack placed the pump down but did not release the suction, instead, grabbing onto one of the cups on your nipples and tugging at it. You cried, the pain agonising but it just made you anticipate your orgasm all the more. 

Proud of the reaction he pulled from you, his hand moved to the suction cup on your clit, repeating the action. You shrieked, louder than you ever had before and Jack abandoned his cock to cover your mouth, as he repeatedly tugged at the cup, muffling your shrieks. 

“Normally I love your noises Baby but we don't need people coming to investigate that now do we?” he teased. “Now I'm going to let go and you’re going to cum for me. You understand?”

You nodded into his hand. 

“Good, you need to scream like that, do it into the pillow,” he said before pulling his hand from your mouth to grip the toy filling you up by the base and jackhammering it inside of you, still tugging at the pump on your clit. 

It was instantaneous, and as painful as he had promised. Your hole was stretched as wide as it could possibly go right now and gripping hard on the toy that was stuffed inside you. Jack growled, watching with rapt fascination as your poor abused hole rhythmically clenched around the artificial cock. 

You didn't shake as much as you thrashed, pulling the pillow to your face to scream your voice hoarse as tears escaped your eyes due to the pain you were drunk on. 

Wet squelching, screams and Jack’s praises and curses filled the room as you came and cum gushed from you. Your body was both trying to milk the toy and push it out of you at the same time, and you realized the toy was being forced from you because you were squirting around it. Jack seemed unaware given how big the toy was, but he was preparing to enter you the second he pulled the toy from you, the hand previously tugging at your clit pump was stroking his cock while the hand still on the toy quickly pulled it out of you, coating him in the cum still squirting from you. 

“Fuck Baby!” he shouted, surprised for just a moment before he growled and quickly shoved himself in your gaping pussy before you finished. Pounding into you at a brutal pace, unintentionally but happily massaging that spot making you squirt, drenching his front in even more cum before your body could take no more.

“Fuck I didn’t think this would be how I made you squirt the first time, but Im not complaining,” he groaned in your ear, ripping your pillow away from your face and pounding into you, holding your still thrashing body tightly to him, ignoring the pump still on you as his cock destroyed your hole. Over and over again.

His pace was brutal and you cried, from the intense pain and pleasure of your orgasm, from the suction still on your nipples and clit, from the overstimulation of him pounding into you before you had even finished, how tender and swollen your sex was that was continuing to be abused, and the words that dripped from his mouth. 

“My fucking pussy, this is mine,” he growled, his voice sounding feral and animalistic. “No ones ever going to please you the way I do, fill you the way I do, every inch of you is mine!” 

“Y-yours,” you eeped out, voice faint after screaming so loud. 

That was all he needed to push him over the edge, shouting his release as he pulled you up into him and he pushed in as deep as he could go, ignoring how the pump dug into both of you, hitting your cervix, making you cry out as he came.You felt it leak out of you, your abused hole unable to hold it in as he pulled out. Pausing a moment to free you of the pump, making you hiss in pain and relief before Jack collapsed on top of you with a groan, resting his head between your breasts and wrapping his arms around you. 

You weren't sure how long the two of you lay there, clinging to each other, hearts and breath slowing down and sweat cooling from your skin as you stroked his hair. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Eventually, once he was no longer panting, Jack sat up, hair clinging to his sweaty forehead as he took survey of the mess on yourselves and the bed. 

“You good baby?” he asked, the need for sleep clinging to his voice. 

“Yeah,” you whispered. “That was…”

“Intense?” he supplied with a weak chuckle, getting up off of the bed. “Come on baby, let clean up and get you sorted.” 

You whined in complaint, rolling to your side, back to him. 

“I know you’re tired,” he cooed, gently picking you up and carrying you to the ensuite. “But you’ll regret waking up in a wet bed, covered in cum and sore as all hell.” 

“Fine” you sighed, wrapping your arms around his neck, more than happy to let him do all the work, and you knew he was more than happy to do it. 

He took extra care with you that night, cleaning you up, removing the lingerie from your body, soothing your sore abused nipples with ointment, changing the bedsheets and praising you as you snuggled to him every chance you got. 

You were already asleep by the time he put you to bed and tucked you in beside him.

Taglist: 

@thats-one-tender-foot  @luminescentlily @nuttybeardetective @ishqinbbc @ben-is-a-hoe @calamity-queen @phoenixhalliwell @talesfromtheguild @the-arctic-violet  @jeeperky @mando-amando

[project-rebirth]

Chapter 1: Foreign City — The_Frozen_Kingdom.

@ofauris​ liked for a Los Santos Freezing Arc Starter!

Cold.

That was the first feeling that came to mind when Kamijou Touma woke up.

It was currently March 12, a time where colder weather was on its way of leaving in the wake of spring, so it was expected to be cold. Just because spring was around the corner did not mean the weather would instantly change. Then again, the climate of Earth had become rather hectic in recent times, so it all boiled down to location and other factors really.

"Huh...?"

Only there was something very wrong here for a number of reasons.

Firstly, After the whole situation with Agnese Sanctis, he was in the usual hospital that was run by a certain frog Faced Doctor in Academy City. Granted, his injuries were not as severe as they normally would have been he would have expected to be waking up in that hospital after everything was said and done.

He did not wake up in a hospital or a bed of any sort.

Instead, Kamijou found himself waking up in the middle of the street, something that would have made him gone pale when he realized he could have been run over, but was surprised to learn that no cars had come through here yet.

It was cold.

He was in a major city of sorts, of which he thought was Academy City when waking up, but upon seeing the layout of the streets and buildings, he quickly realized that was not the case at all.

The city looked familiar - he recognized it from pictures, news footage, and movies, the name immediately came to him making him realize where he was.

This was Los Santos.

It was more evident when taking the famous Vinewood sign over in the distance into consideration.

Kamijou had no idea how in the world he got here, but that fact in itself wasn't the only bizarre thing about this situation.

Normally, Los Santos was warm all year around from what Kamijou remembered. It was located on the western cost of the United States, where weather was typically warmer in general, even during the winter. That did not mean that it never got chilly, but warmer than average weather was expected around this time of year.

But this was abnormal.

It was freezing.

It seemed to be morning and the sky was a very dull gray, with cloudy overcast, but he was surprised it wasn't snowing at this point. he could tell there was a little bit of ice on the ground so he had to be careful not to slip on it.

But the oddities didn't stop there.

The streets were completely empty. There were no cars as far as he could tell, at least none that were driving, and there were no people walking around in the streets either. Kamijou thought people were inside their homes to avoid going out in this weather, but that wouldn't make sense. Even in harsh weather conditions like snow storms, people would still be out and about, if not on foot then at least in their own vehicles. Not to mention businesses would still be open.

But there was none of that. It was as if the city had been completely abandoned.

"H-Hello?! Is anyone out there?!"

Kamijou started walking around, calling out for anyone that was around in the area to get some confirmation of a human presence. He was speaking japanese so he doubted any locals would understand him, but him calling out in this strange situation was better than sitting around waiting for someone to arrive. Even if they didn't understand him, they might react to his voice regardless.

he tried calling out a few more times, but no one seemed to respond.

He had no idea what was going on. Why was Kamijou in Los Santos? Why was the weather here so cold? And what happened to the people here?

He had no idea, but for the time being, his priority was to try and find away back to Japan, specifically Academy City.

“O-Of course it would end up this way... only this Kamijou-san would be unlucky enough to end up in a city in another country, with bizarre conditions like this. How am I even going to get on a flight back to Academy City? Do I have my passport with me?”

[lovelylogans]

spring cleaning

there’s a pack rat in the family. who it is will not surprise you.

part of the wyliwf verse.

warnings: food mentions, alcohol mentions, general messiness, jokes about hoarding

pairings: patton/virgil, offscreen logan/roman

word count: 2,412

notes: hi! this is just a quick little fic as i beta and finish off the next chapter of debutante. this is based off the gilmore girls season three episode twelve “lorelai out of water” cold open. takes place the spring after the main storyline, after alliance but before debutante.

⁂

virgil’s phone buzzes at 10:13 am on a sunny spring sunday. he pauses just after he drops off the brunch plates for mrs. torres, babette, and east side tilly, digging around in his back pocket to squint at his recent texts.

logan sanders: Please help.

any other time, this kind of text would probably send anxiety flooding his veins like ice water. as he’s been warned, sure, he’s a little anxious that he’s misreading the situation, but he shakes that aside and snorts.

“called it,” he mutters under his breath, before he wipes his hands on his apron and types out christ, you’re folding easy this year. is that a new record?

a brief pause. then, No, the record was twenty-four minutes. To be fair, that took place when I was ten years old, we were moving into the house, and you were already going to be involved, so I perhaps I should propose that does not count against my spring cleaning record.

ah, that’s right. god, helping patton move had kind of been a nightmare. helping anyone move is a bit of a nightmare, but with patton there’s a whole new layer of shenanigans.

Another buzz. Also, I need this to be hastened along. I have a Socratic seminar in English tomorrow, and though we have settled on a tentative truce I refuse to let Dee achieve the highest grade in the class.

he shoots back i’ll be there asap.

“jean,” he calls to the counter, but jean, having been warned as well, waves him off.

“i got it, at least he waited till the we hit the between-masses lull.”

“you’re the best,” he says, hanging up his apron and ignoring mrs. torres’ hoots about his arms—he's like ninety percent sure she’s spiking her own orange juice so she can have a screwdriver with her pancakes but he hasn’t caught her with a flask in hand yet—and heads out the door.

the citizens of sideshire are fully soaking in the pleasure of a sunny spring day—it’s one of those days, where the weather’s warming up slowly, but there’s sure to be more cold snaps before they fully settle into spring, so lots of people are taking advantage of it. families are sprawled with picnic blankets in the grassy town square. the “long-haired freak” (taylor’s nickname, not his. virgil’s pretty sure his name is dave, but also, he’s not totally sure his name is dave, and as such usually avoids any complications by saying “hey, man,” whenever virgil sees him) is out hawking fruits and vegetables from his garden. lots of people are out on walks, some with earbuds or headphones on, some calling out jolly greetings to other people taking advantage of a blue sky and temperatures that are soaring above freezing.

“hey, virgil.”

“hey, felix,” virgil says, craning his neck to catch sight of—well, he guesses felix and riley are technically his tenants? but that always feels weird to say—his neighboring business owners. felix is busy making sure a promotional poster’s taped to the window. “how’re things?”

“ah, y’know, y’know,” felix says, waving their hands around. “weather’s warming up, so we’re getting into busy season. guess people want to be able to flaunt new ink in the warmer weather, y’know?”

“hey, speaking of—” virgil says.

“oh, yeah,” felix says, scratching at the half of their head that was once shaved bald but is now growing in stubbly. “you wanna have riley do one this time? they can draw up some sketches for you, if you want. or i can, if you want, but it might be a minute ‘cause i’m all hands on deck for this massive full-back piece.”

“nah, riley’ll be cool, it’s been a minute since they’ve done one for me,” virgil says. “i’ll drop by later with some reference photos, ideas and stuff.”

“i’ll make sure they’re refreshed on what your style is before the consultation,” felix says. “appreciate the business.”

“appreciate you and your spouse taking over this empty shop so taylor didn’t get a chance to,” virgil returns, as he usually does whenever felix or their riley thanks him for something. he’s really awkward about accepting gratitude, he’s working on that with emile and patton.

“god, could you imagine taylor next door,” felix says with a theatric shudder. “bad enough he runs half the town.”

“i’ll call tomorrow to make the appointment?”

felix flashes him a thumbs up, and virgil raises a hand in farewell as he continues on his way.

he ends up pushing his sleeves up to his elbows as he walks to the sanders’ house, occasionally saying hey to other residents of sideshire, or tilting his face up to the sun. 

this winter’s been brutal, even worse than it usually is for the northeast, with absurd amounts of blizzards and ice. on the days where it wasn’t shoveling ridiculous amounts of snow on the whole town, the sky had been gray and overcast, and what little sun there was could barely stream weakly through the clouds. 

but now, the sun sinks softly into his exposed skin, warming him without overheating him thanks to the breeze, carrying the sweet scent of tentatively blooming flowers planted by particularly audacious gardeners.

it is a perfect, lovely spring day. 

by the time he gets to the cheerful yellow clapboard house, he’s taken enough deep, calming breaths to ensure that he is a calming presence. he ascends the stairs of the wraparound porch—oh, huh, looks like patton or logan’s making an attempt at being a gardener, that looks like mountain mint—and knocks lightly on the front door.

“please come in,” logan shouts, sounding exasperated, and virgil obligingly pushes the door open.

he toes off his shoes, even as he overhears patton’s voice, cajoling.

“hug-a-world! c’mon, you’ve gotta remember your hug-a-world!”

hug-a-world, virgil mouths to himself, before it comes back to him in sudden, vivid technicolor and he rounds the corner.

and, sure enough, surrounded by the detritus of the sanders home, patton and logan sit in a hastily-cleared space in the middle of their living room, patton holding a stuffed ball tight to his chest.

“of course i remember the hug-a-world,” logan says, still with that tone of exasperation, but lessened now at the sight of a beloved childhood toy. 

“you can’t make me throw away your hug-a-world,” patton declares viciously, which would almost be believably threatening if he were not clutching a stuffed ball made to look like a globe to his chest, and if his curly hair was not sticking up in a configuration that virgil thinks of as chaotically unruly, and if he were not wearing a pink-and-blue sweater he usually busts out around easter, and if someone did not know patton as a person. “you learned all seven of your continents on hug-a-world!”

see, without fail, almost every year patton gets suckered into the whole concept of the spring clean. and, without fail, logan or virgil will try to point out that he does this every year, and patton insists no, really, this time for sure he’ll get rid of some of the clutter around this house, it’s about time!, and then he gets sidetracked getting attached to objects he finds that he suddenly cannot bear to get rid of, despite the fact that said objects have typically been buried away in a dark closet all the rest of the year.

which means that logan and virgil sit with him and try to point that out, and patton wavers, before he decides to keep or donate or trash it, and it seems like it’s going okay, until the next thing he touches turns out to be another thing that he suddenly cannot bear to give up.

it’s gotten a little better since that time they introduced the marie kondo method, but also, that much worse, because of course he insists that everything sparks joy! 

but this is way more mess than usual. there are cardboard boxes and piles of clothes and bits and bobs that are in piles that come up to his ribs. virgil squints it at it suspiciously.

“attic,” logan says wearily, in explanation. “he got boxes out of the attic.”

oh, shit, the attic. god, that thing is stuffed to the brim with boxes, no wonder the living room looks like someone upended the odds-and-ends drawer for a giant into the house.

“but—c’mon,” patton says, in that same sweetly coaxing tone that usually makes them all throw up their hands and leave the rest of this spring cleaning mess for next year’s spring clean. he holds out the hug-a-world to logan. “hold it. marie says so.”

“marie does not realize that she has a special case with my hoarder of a father and therefore should customize the approach of sparks joy, because you have too wide a definition,” logan says, but he reaches out and takes the hug-a-world with both hands anyways.

virgil examines logan holding it, thinking suddenly of a much tinier logan with a gap in his front teeth holding the same toy in the same way, though the fabric had been much more vibrant shades of blue and green then. there had been a solid stretch of time that the hug-a-world had been the toy that logan had hugged falling asleep, back in the poolhouse. he’d taken the hug-a-world to the diner and to school and all around the inn and to the princes’ apartment and back again.

a side of logan’s mouth twitches up, and then, as if suddenly conscious of it, he forces the corners of his mouth to turn down as he stares at it.

“remember?” patton repeats, staring at logan and the hug-a-world fondly. “we used to take turns to squeeze it as tight as we could and then wherever our pinkies would end up, that’s where we were going to go together when you grew up.”

“yes,” logan says, and then loses the fight against his mouth, because it twitches up into a smile again. “many a trip to uzbekistan was planned that way.”

“look!” patton says, pointing and tilting his head. “that’s canada, then, where’d your other one get you?”

logan moves his other pinky in order to squint at the faded fabric. “i believe that’s cambodia. possibly vietnam, i was rather splitting the border.” 

“why not both?” patton says pragmatically, or as pragmatically as he can sound planning a potential trip based off hugging a ball. 

logan hesitates, holding the ball.

“look,” patton says. “hey, how about virgil helps clean it up, and the hug-a-world can live in your room?”

logan chews at the inside of his lip.

“if it sparks joy,” patton sing-songs.

logan heaves a sigh.

“the hug-a-world will live in my room, then,” he says, before looking to virgil. “we’ve started a pile for you right here,” and pats a pile of what mostly looks like clothes that can be either repaired, repurposed, or sneakily donated.

virgil takes a breath, and says, “i’ll crack open a window and put on some music, then. patton, you take your allergy medicine today?”

patton tilts his head to think about it.

“that’s a no,” virgil says. “i’ll grab it on the way. water, snacks? we’re gonna be here for a while.”

“are we?” logan says doubtfully, twisting to look at him.

“we are finishing spring clean this year!” patton insists. “i mean it this time!”

logan arches his eyebrows at virgil, and virgil mouths play along, and logan sighs before he turns back to the pile, pulling out an old jacket at random.

“i have never seen you wear this. it should be donated.”

“that was from raf, we can’t just toss it!” patton cries out in dismay, and virgil heads for the kitchen.

he fills up three glasses of water, chops up some celery and apples, fills up three mini ramekins with peanut butter, and sets it all on a tray, along with the round white pill that patton takes for his allergies. 

he plugs in his phone and scrolls to a roman-made playlist, lowering the volume so that they’ll be able to hear each other, and proceeds to make his meandering way around the piles of Stuff as best he can without knocking anything over.

on his way, he moves to crack open the windows of the living room, allowing the floral-scented air to waft into the messy room, to hear the chirping of the birds under patton and logan’s debating.

he pushes aside a pile of old books on the coffee table and sets the tray down, mostly ignored as logan manages to triumph and tosses the jacket into a box labeled DONATE.

virgil settles down next to his pile, sitting in criss-cross-applesauce, and gosh all of the clutter of patton and logan’s lives looms over them like a mountain at this angle. 

“okay,” virgil says encouragingly. “good, that’s good! raf’s old jacket will probably make some other teenager very happy to have it.”

patton sighs, staring after the jacket. “yeah, i guess.”

“this is good,” virgil says stubbornly, before tugging at a piece of fabric sticking out at random and unearthing a blanket.

“oh, i was wondering where that got off to!” patton says, delighted. 

“i thought that got lost in the moving shuffle,” virgil agrees, because the last time he saw this he was pretty sure it was tossed over the back of their rented apartment couch.

“so this blanket has not been washed in at least six years,” logan says.

“well, that can be fixed!” patton points out. “i say keep.”

“we’re never going to finish,” logan groans.

“of course we’re gonna finish!” patton says.

“yeah, logan,” virgil says unconvincingly. “listen to your dad.” 

patton beams at him, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek; logan rolls his eyes, before he turns his attention to the blanket.

“so, you claim keep for your room,” logan says. “you already have so many blankets.”

“well, we can always use more blankets!” patton points out. “worse comes to worse, we’ll put it in the linen closet.”

logan tilts his head, before he sighs, and places it in a pile of other fabrics that they seem to have decided to keep.

“all right, fine,” he says, then fishes out another piece of fabric. “next item—”

“look how fast we settled that!” patton says brightly.

“pretty fast,” virgil agrees dutifully.

“we’ll totally finish spring clean this year,” patton says confidently.

(they do not finish spring clean this year.)

[fallingappleshurt]

Could you possibly write a SBI FD AU of all of the boys at Christmas. Could be at Christmas or any other time during the winter. Genuinely all I want to read right now. <3

Ty, Anon

Snowy Boys Incorporated (Part 1/2)

Sorry y’all, apparently word limits are a thing but anyways here it is!

Sorry if the flow of this was weird, it jumps from Phil to Tommy to Techno back to Tommy then to Wilbur, I have no excuse

This AU was made my the wonderful @antarctic-bay go check her out! And please keep in mind my writing isn’t canon!

Also the two times French is mentioned I used google translate because I am tired

Anyways hope you enjoy!

Phil parked the car and texted Techno and Wilbur to come help him and Tommy with the tree and ornaments. He turned off the engine and pocketed his phone, hoping Techno and Wilbur had actually moved the furniture to make room for the tree while him and Tommy had actually got the tree and ornaments from a storage unit.

“Phil- Phil! The tree is stuck!” Tommy said, Phil could hear him yanking at the box.

“Hang on, watch the ice,” Phil came around to the trunk of the car, ignoring the snowflakes fluttering down, he saw Tommy trying to shake the box from it’s jammed position.

“How did you manage this?”

“I don’t know!”

“Let me try,” Phil grabbed the sides of the box, trying to slowly wedge it out, but to no avail. “How did you do this?”

“Wh- How is this my fault?” Tommy cried, starting to pull at the box again.

“You’re the one that packed it!”

“What are you guys doing?” Phil looked over to see Techno standing by the car, eyebrow raised.

“Tommy’s shit at packing and got the tree stuck.”

“That sounds like him-”

“Hey!”

“You’re just mad-” Techno was caught off guard by Wilbur coming up behind him, slipping, and knocking them both to the ground.

“Wilbur what the fuck!”

“I slipped!”

“Get off of me!” Phil cackled as Tommy laughed loudly, wheezing at the end.

“That’s what you get for being an asshole! Instant karma!”

Techno responded by grabbing a fist full of snow and throwing it at Tommy, it landed on his chest and he yelped.

“It got in my shirt!”

“Good.”

After Techno and Wilbur had untangled themselves and dusted the snow from their clothes, they started to help them with the tree. They ended up having Techno climb into the car and lower one of the backseats and after much more struggling and wiggling the box they managed to free the tree from its very old, silver chamber.

Wilbur grabbed the boxes of ornaments and started up the stairs while Tommy and Techno followed with the tree and Phil locked up the car, listening to his brother's banter and hoping they actually wouldn’t try to race up the stairs.

He was glad to see his brothers more relaxed, they had all been stressed with finals right before break, he had come home from work many nights seeing them with books and papers spread out across the table, empty cups of coffee and energy drink cans littered around.

It was nice to see them fooling around.

Phil entered the apartment and slipped off his shoes, throwing them in the pile, to see Techno dragging the tree out of it’s box while Tommy and Wilbur pulled cobwebs off of ornaments.

They set up the tree in the corner of the room by a window and started to mess with the cords to plug in the lights, after unplugging and replugging every cord they managed to fit the tree lights in.

They started decorating, adding on colorful glass balls and a few candy canes just to be extra even though they knew Wilbur would eat them later.

Phil grabbed his personal favorite ornament, a wooden one with Snoopy and Woodstalk wearing santa hats in the snow, and hung it on the tree. They each had a favorite ornament, Techno’s was a mini violin, Wilbur’s an ornate snowflake, Tommy’s was a glass pickle. They were all hung on the front of the tree where they were easily seen.

They still had some of the little foam ornaments, the kind that are made in elementary school and kept for nostalgia and nostalgia only. Some still had pictures, Phil with an old striped bucket hat that they only let him keep for the first day of school. He missed that hat, it had been lost in a move.

Pulling more from the box, he found a snowman with a picture of Techno, glasses too big for his face, smiling shyly at the camera with paint on his hands. A baby blue foam mitten had a picture of Wilbur, who wasn’t facing the camera, with wild hair and a huge grin on his face as he slapped at a toy keyboard. A fading gingerbread man had a picture of Tommy grinning, eyes squeezed shut with colorful band aids across his face.

He took pictures with his phone and hung them up on the tree, much to his younger brother's annoyance.

Wilbur scrapped old tinsel out of the bottom of the boxes and put a few strands on the tree. Tommy grabbed the bundles of old lights and proceeded to strong them along the walls of the apartment.

“These are the next best things to LED lights,” He said, almost matter-of- factly, Phil just laughed as Tommy attempted to tape some of the wire to the wall. He was eventually able to pull it off after continually yelling at Techno to bring him duct tape and ‘fucking help him or he’d shake the bunk’.

After they had finished setting it up, they turned off all the lights except for the tree and strung ones on the wall. The colorful candy ones shown in the window by the tree and the golden light showed nicely against their white walls.

“The yellow lights kind of look like fireflies,” Techno mused, rubbing at his eyes.

“Maybe in video games, but this is the real world,” Tommy scoffed.

“Aww, are you tired?” Wilbur teased voice raising multiple octaves, “Little Blade need a na-”

Techno shoved Wilbur’s face away, “Shut up Wilbur,” He grumbled.

“When was the last time you slept?” Phil asked.

“Uh,” Techno paused for much longer then necessary, “Can’t remember.”

“Huh, that’s definitely not concerning-”

“I think this looks great!” Tommy interrupted, “Considering half of this stuff was covered in cobwebs!”

Phil nodded, “Oh wait, we forgot the star!” He started digging through one the boxes, his brothers left him to it and sat down on the couch. The star was always Phil’s thing, it was never a spoken rule, just something they had agreed on. Once he found it, Phil placed it on the tree then sat down next to his brothers.

He asked Wilbur about his day and Wilbur told him about finals hell and how every student looked dead or was trying to sleep in the cafeteria.

He turned to the others only to find that Techno and Tommy had already passed out, leaning on each other. Phil nudged Wilbur with his elbow, nodding towards the sleeping pair. They both pulled out their phones, taking pictures.

“Blackmail?” Phil asked, a grin pulling at his lips. Wilbur nodded.

“Blackmail.”

Phil took Techno’s glasses off of his face and set them on the coffee table and Wilbur covered them with a blanket.

The next morning Tommy sat up groggily, his first thought being that he was really hungry, so after untangling his and Techno’s limbs he padded into the kitchen. He started making a bowl of cereal and scrambled eggs, he made them in the lazy way, whisking the eggs with a fork then putting them in the microwave.

Then he remembered that it had been snowing the day before and rushed over to the window. A thick white blanket covered the terrain, sparkling white with soft gray clouds coating the sky. He opened the window and poked at the snow. He squished a fistful in his palm, it was packed, heavy snow.

Perfect for snowball fights.

He was going to destroy his brothers.

He closed the window then went to grab his food and sat at the table. A few minutes later he saw Techno sit up and rub at his eyes, Tommy watched him look around for a moment.

“Glasses are on the coffee table,” He supplied, taking a bite of cereal, Techno gave him a thumbs up then headed into the kitchen, starting to make a cup of coffee.

“Why don’t you eat breakfast?” Tommy asked, Techno looked over at him, glaring at his food.

“Why do you eat breakfast? It’s too early for food,”

“But not too early for coffee?”

“It’s never too early for coffee Tommy.”

Techno sat down across from him, obviously still trying to wake up fully. Just as Tommy was finishing his food Phil emerged from the hallway.

“You guys ready for today?”

“Heh?”

“What’s happening today?”

Phil raised an eyebrow, “Did you forget? We are helping down at the St Francis soup kitchen- my friend is low on people-I told you about this a week ago.”

“I completely forget,” Techno’s response was muffled by the coffee cup.

“Well we gotta be there in like an hour, get moving!”

Tommy put his dishes in the sink and saw Wilbur standing in the hall, staring him down.

“Hey Tommy, didn’t you wanna shower this morning?” He asked, eyes drifting towards the bathroom.

“Wilbur don’t-”

“Tommy-”

“Wilbur don’t-” Tommy’s begging was cut off as Wilbur shot to the side, dove into the bathroom and slammed the door. Tommy rushed over, pounding on the flimsy wood.

“Damn it Wilbur! Open the door!”

He heard the shower start and pounded harder.

“Wilbur you bitch!”

“Tommy it is too early for you to be this loud-” Techno said from the table.

“I’ll be quieter sooner if you help me open the door!”

Techno considered it for a moment then stood up, “Where is that bent coat hanger-”

“For fucks sake-” Phil put a hand on Tommy’s chest then knocked on the door, “Wilbur! You got ten minutes!”

Wilbur’s ‘okay’ was muffled from the door, Tommy sighed, leaning on the door, deciding he would absolutely beat the shit out of his brothers later.

They were running late because of course they were, between the fight for the bathroom, getting the car cleaned off and getting to the soup kitchen in the day before Christmas traffic was not the easier task, at least for the Pandels.

They finally pulled up to the soup kitchen and parked in the back, heading inside. They had barely managed to take off their coats before an employee pulled them into the kitchen.

Tommy was barely able to process what the man said, something about being understaffed, and shoved Tommy next to another boy who was sorting out juice boxes and fruit cups onto trays.

His brothers were being pulled aside to do actual cooking, they had done it before once when Tommy was sick and had to stay home.

After sorting and setting out all of the food along a conveyor belt type thing, Tommy wasn’t really sure what it was, they pulled up a metal covering so people could come get food.

Each person had to pass out different foods to people, Tommy was put at the end of the conveyor belt, handing out christmas cookies. Wilbur was next to him, offering different drinks.

Multiple different people came down the line, filling their plates with food and sitting down in the cafeteria. There was a TV in the corner and a bookshelf, other people milled about, soft chatter against the pots and pans clattering in the kitchen.

Two kids walked through the line with their parents, the girl looked at Wilbur and wrinkled her nose.

“Your hat looks weird,”

Tommy cackled and gave her an extra cookie.

Eventually they shut the windows and started to clean up the kitchen, putting plates and trays into a huge dishwasher, boxing things up in a walk in freezer and handing out non perishables to people as they left.

Tommy leaned against the counter, Techno and Phil were taking off aprons and putting them in a laundry pile, his shoulders loosened. They had helped people, it felt good;

“Just helped some people- feeling good-”

“Just killed a woman, feeling good!” Wilbur cut in, elbowing Tommy in the ribs, he elbowed him back. “Dickhead,”

“Hey! We’re gonna be heading out soon!” Phil called across the kitchen.

“Is there anything else we have planned?” He asked Wilbur.

“We’re making cookies,”

“Why?”

Wilbur shrugged, “Cause Techno got some new recipes from that gang of Lesbians at school.”

Tommy shuttered, “Oh I remember them, they scare me-”

“I thought you said they were cool,” Wilbur interjected, starting to follow Phil out the door.

“They are! But they also scare the shit out of me!”

Wilbur laughed, “As they should.”

Techno was watching Tommy slide around the kitchen in his socks when Phil asked; “Techno, you said you had some new recipes?”

He nodded, “Yeah, the Lesbian group chat gave me some,”

He remembered getting them was an interesting process, he asked them if they knew of any good cookie recipes and they had all started spamming for one girl to get online. When she did get online he asked the question again. She responded in all caps ‘You fucking fuck! Of course I have some! I am a cottagecore lesbian! What do you take me for!’ Then sent him 7 different recipes.

Wilbur snorted, “I still can’t believe you got taken in by a group of lesbians.”

Techno rolled his eyes and sent two of the recipes to Phil, who was preheating the oven.

“Why are we making so many?” Tommy asked, grabbing the baking sheets from the cabinets.

“They are for the neighbors,” Phil said.

“As a gift?”

“As an apology, you guys are fucking loud.”

Techno smiled, getting out the measuring cups and starting to put ingredients into the bowl. One was a recipe for sugar cookies, which is what he and Wilbur were doing, and the other were snickerdoodles which Phil and Tommy were in charge of.

Techno and Wilbur always worked well together, they flowed around each other, passing ingredients and helping each other out. Meanwhile Phil and Tommy had spilled half of the things they were trying to get into the bowl.

As Wilbur and Techno put their cookies in the oven, Phil nudged Tommy.

“Tommy, where is the rest of the butter, you said you grabbed more,”

“I did, I grabbed-”

“Then give it to me,”

Tommy didn’t move, “Hey Phil, remember when I said I had the butter-well- I lied.”

“What!”

“Don’t worry Phil, We still have some over here,” Wilbur passed a stick of butter behind him.

“Do you guys want some help-” Techno asked, biting his tongue, Tommy pushed him away.

“No! We got this!”

So Wilbur and Techno hung out in the living room while Phil and Tommy tried not to kill each other over cookies. It turned out to be for the best though because when they were ready to put their cookies in, Wilbur and Techno’s were done.

The two decorated their cookies with colored sprinkles, the recipe said it was optional but Wilbur had made the excellent point that sprinkles should never be optional.

Once Phil and Tommy’s cookies were done and left out too cool, Techno’s phone buzzed.

[kogiopsis]

3 for kaladin and... maybe adolin and/or shallan?

I went for Kaladin and Adolin because, well, I love me some emotionally constipated boys. (technically one emotionally constipated boy and one extremely emotionally intelligent one who doesn’t want to push.) Modern AU because it lets me avoid the timeline difficulties.

3. Slipped under your tongue, twisted into something else. “I trust you,” maybe. Trust them to figure it out.

-------------------------------------------------------------

“Oh, for the love of - fucking shit!” Kaladin dropped the messenger bag from his shoulder and threw his hands in the air, looking up into the gray winter sky. “Really? Am I a joke to you?”

The sky gave no answer. When he looked back, nothing had changed - his bike, or what was left of it, still slumped in the rack in front of the clinic. The U-lock passed through the front wheel and the dented frame, but the back wheel… was gone.

It was the third time this semester. He probably shouldn’t have been surprised; the free clinic where he volunteered was in a difficult part of town, the kind of neighborhood that wasn’t a priority for the police unless they were here to rough people up. It was better to look the other way for things like petty theft, even if it wasn’t that petty to him.

With a grumble, he picked his bag back up and slung it across his body, then glanced up at the sky. Should have at least an hour of marginal daylight - if he kept a good pace up, he could make it back to his apartment by then. Nothing for it but to start walking.

Kaladin made it a block and a half, hood up and hands in his pockets for warmth, before a sleek blue car pulled up next to him and honked in a way that was almost… apologetic. He didn’t turn. He could see the fender out of the corner of his eye, and there was no mistaking it.

With a hiss and a hum, a window rolled down. The sidewalk ran right along the street - no extra green space here - and so it was close enough that Kaladin could feel a puff of warmth on his shoulder.

“Kal, c’mon. Let me give you a ride.”

Kaladin glanced over to see, as expected, Adolin Kholin leaning halfway across the passenger seat, holding the car steady with one hand and reaching out to him with the other. He was wearing driving gloves. Unbelievable.

“I’m fine,” he said shortly. “Walking’s healthy, haven’t you heard?”

“Gee, thanks, nurse,” the other man replied dryly. “I’d no idea. Seriously, it’s 40 degrees and dropping and you’re wearing a hoodie. Get in the car.”

Kaladin stopped and faced Adolin, who didn’t quite hit the brakes in time and slid a few feet past him. He waited as the car shifted into reverse and backed up to pull even with him. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards.

“What are you doing down here, anyway?” Kaladin’s pointed up-and-down took in the understated expense of the car, the driving gloves, the double-breasted coat that made Adolin look straight out of a Burberry ad campaign. “This isn’t exactly your part of town.”

“Tell you if you get in,” Adolin bargained, and flashed a half smile. Kaladin bit his tongue to suppress an answering expression. A gust of wind swept down the street and cut through the worn fabric of his hoodie, and he heaved a sigh that was only slightly exaggerated for effect.

“Fine,” he said, opening the door and sliding into the car’s warm interior. The temperature differential made his skin prickle briefly as he settled his bag against his feet and, slowly, leaned back into the seat. It was leather - soft and expensive, like everything about Adolin.

Hands moving with thoughtless grace, Adolin shifted the car into drive and pulled out into the street, rolling Kaladin’s window up as they went. Neither spoke until they paused at a stop sign. As Adolin scrupulously checked the empty cross-street in each direction, Kaladin said, “So?”

“So…”

“So, why are you here?” Kaladin glanced over and allowed himself a moment to appreciate Adolin’s profile. There was a small crease at the corner of those long-lashed eyes - the beginning of smile lines, he thought.

Adolin shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road. “The weather report said there might be snow. I know you volunteer at the clinic, so I figured I’d take a little detour and see if you wanted a ride. Pretty sure your bike can fit in my trunk. Where is your bike, by the way?”

Kaladin frowned, turning this over. “Back wheel’s gone again. Are you telling me you went out of your way to come pick me up because you were worried I’d be cold?”

“Something like that.” Adolin’s tone was light, verging on airy, and Kaladin knew him well enough to be sure that was fake, but he let it slide. They sat in silence for several more blocks, but it was a warm, comfortable kind of silence, and Kaladin felt some of the tension go out of his shoulders.

Adolin turned onto his street, and Kaladin realized that he hadn’t reminded Adolin of his address - hadn’t needed to give him directions at all. The thought made the back of his neck prickle in a not-unpleasant way..

“Here we are,” Adolin said, as he parked in front of the house whose basement Kaladin rented. “Home sweet home?”

“Yeah,” Kaladin muttered, wrapping his hands around the strap of his bag. He opened the door and ducked out, then paused and bent down to look back in. Adolin met his gaze with eyes the color of a summer sky and a half-smile on his lips.

“I-” Words stuck in Kaladin’s throat and he swallowed them back down, picked something easier, something simpler. “Thanks. For checking the weather report.”

Adolin nodded, then gave him a brief grin. “I always do.”

[barnesandco]

Icy Haloes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: brief mention of pneumonia and death in the first paragraph, excessive use of commas.

A/N: I’ve been suffering the worst writer’s block, but I think I’m starting to shake it off with this work, so finger’s crossed we get an update on one of my WIPs soon! Big thanks to @nacho-bucky and @captain-kelli for the extremely helpful advice that allowed me to produce a half-decent piece of writing after who-knows-how-long. It’s also hotter than Hell right now, and it was soothing to escape into a NYC winter while writing this, if you’re wondering where the inspiration came from.

Bucky hates the cold. He detests the way it bites into his bones, abhors the reminders of the graves he used to help dig every time another person in the neighborhood died of pneumonia, loathes remembering how the rattle in Steve’s lungs made him worry that his would be the next. But you, unlike Steve and possibly Sam and Nat, don’t know that. The new cook hired when a spike in missions made it increasingly more difficult for the Avengers to prepare their own meals, you have been here for all of three weeks when you appear in the living room requesting assistance with grocery shopping. 

Sam and Nat got back from a mission just yesterday and are still nursing their wounds splayed across multiple bean bags, Tony has Steve tied to the sofa by the latter’s promise to watch Star Wars, and while Wanda and Vision are available, Bucky stands at attention when you enter before you have even completed your sentence. Steve snickers, and Bucky would cuff him if he wasn’t two couches over and preoccupied with stifling a rising blush. As it is, he sends a discreet glare his best friend’s way, and volunteers to brave New York’s snow-clad streets with you instead, only because he’s a gentleman and definitely not to see the resounding smile in thanks that sends his heart racing.

“Let me go grab a jacket first,” he says, passing by you where you stand wearing a hand-knitted scarf under your jacket and a worn hat on your head, none of it able to suppress the scent of gingerbread on your person. 

“I’ll wait by the car,” you call from behind him, and he grins to himself when he hears Tony say not the Audi! as the elevator doors close. 

Five minutes later, you’re both in the garage, trying to determine which car to take if Tony’s precious Audi is unavailable, and since you’re going to be driving, he sees no reason to suggest otherwise when you head for the Tesla. Although Bucky is slowly catching up with the times, between frequent trips to the local library, the ever-so-helpful internet under F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s guidance, and the miracle of history documentaries, driving a car is one thing he still has not learnt. 

However, you were born and raised in Arlington, Texas, a city with a negligible public transport system, and therefore know how to drive. How you’ll fare on frosty streets remains to be seen. Now, he realizes neither of you really thought this trip through much beyond the date and time of the event, but you’re an experienced driver, and he has faith that you’ll adapt just fine. Besides, it’s not like it’s your first time out. 

The silence in the car is calm, warm, the gentle hum of the radiator only audible to Bucky beneath the still quieter murmur of the electric engine, and you nod your head to an invisible tune as the car speeds down country roads, towards the cluster of skyscrapers in the distance, made cloudy by winter haze. 

He’s so focused on the city ahead that he nearly jumps out of his skin when you speak for the first time since you got in the car. “Is there anywhere you’d like to go besides the supermarket?” You ask, and he sees that you think you’ve bothered him, that you’ve dragged him out against his will, and he doesn’t want to let you believe that.

“I’m happy to go wherever you like,” is his answer, with a smile that he hopes is more placating than nervous, because who knows what it’s like to be the newest part of a well-oiled machine that you think doesn’t need you. While you aren’t with them in the field, you live with them and have, in this short time, endeared yourself to each Avenger in a unique way. Recalling watching Peter do his homework a couple of months back, he thinks of nuclei and electrons, and how you seem to be an example of the first particle. Not only because he is attracted to you, but also because of how you pull people into your circle. Bucky hopes he can be granted the same joy.

“Okay,” you say softly, as if only to yourself, but he catches it and nods reassuringly. “You know, when Sam came with me last week, he actually said that you’re a lot more fun while grocery shopping.”

Bucky’s eyes widen. “I’m more fun to be with while shopping than at home, or I’m more fun to go shopping with than Sam?” He asks, turning in his seat.

“The second one.”

“Did he say why?”

A thoughtful hum, and you bite the inside of your cheek while formulating an appropriate answer. “Something about your old-fashioned sensibilities being offended by the prices nowadays--”

“I am not old-fashioned--”

“-- and he warned me to keep you away from the snack aisle because you, and I quote, lose it at the sight of all those Doritos flavors,” you finish with a teasing smile, directed at the road. With no response to that, he resigns himself to sink back into his seat while crossing his arms and grumbling his displeasure, only to perk up with the sound of your laugh, just as you swing into the parking lot of Trader Joe’s.

One successful grocery round later, and Bucky’s closing the lid on a trunk full of grocery bags, one of which consists only of Doritos. He’s going to open the door for you when you stop him and gesture to the cafe across the street with a sheepish look on your face.

“Hot chocolate?” ¨

“Sure,” he answers, and you lock the door. The place is almost empty, what with it being a couple of hours before lunch on a workday, and you order to hot chocolates to go, explaining that you’re just a few minutes away from Central Park and you wanted to go for a brief walk, if that was okay with him, of course.

The hot chocolates arrive, both with every imaginable topping on them, and Bucky hurries to pull out his wallet despite your protests. “Let’s go,” he says, handing you your cup and praying that he can balance his without spilling over, and holding the door for you as you exit. 

New York’s boisterous bustle is dulled by the quiet of winter, the pulsing life of the city hushed as snow starts falling, this November precipitation hopefully a good omen for a white Christmas. This part of town seems to fall silent, and he relishes the peace, the rustle of your jackets as shoulders brush when a rare stranger passes by. 

Soon, the city falls away to the expanse of what used to be green but is now just a domesticated snowy tundra -- Central Park. A lone runner sprints across a pathway a hundred yards away, and you sit down on a bench.

“I love New York,” you say with a smile, and Bucky can see the enchantment of this city falling over you as you close your eyes. Less than a month, most of it spent outside the city lines, and you’re falling for the place he knows as home, and it makes him fall in love with it all over again. To see a familiar place through fresh and wondrous eyes is like getting to read a favorite book for the first time -- a privelege few are afforded, but he is fortunate to be amongst them. The way your eyes flit across the sky following a flock of pigeons, the way you inhale the scent of hot chocolate like no place else in the world can produce, and then how your gaze falls to the untouched, sacred blanket of snow in front of you. The ensuing gasp is one he cannot decipher, and so he asks.

“What is it?”

“I just realized I’ve never made snow angels,” you answer, trembling with childish epiphany, and he looks at you like you’ve grown another head. It’s been almost a century since he made his last one, too, at the age of 12, before he had to resist in order to avoid bringing Steve down with him lest the skinny rascal die from the cold.

“Do you,” he begins hesitantly, “do you want to, right now?” The expression on your face is one of barely controlled want and bashfulness at the desire. 

“Yeah,” you say after a full minute’s consideration. That’s how Bucky finds himself, despite his issues with the cold, on the ground in a field of snow like a starfish against the ground and waving his arms and legs wildly. Your giggles float to him on a cloud of air, breathless, shaking, and he stops after a while to lay there next to you, the silver bond of a new friendship glowing in the gray daylight. 

He’s the first to rise, carefully so as to not disturb the pattern, and he pulls you up after, watches the smile split your face into the fullest crescent moon, warming his insides more than the hot chocolate did. The cold is starting to soak through his clothes, but the pins and needles prickling at his skin soon start to sear with that white heat that comes after touching snow, and he’s warm all over. When you turn to look at him with a thank you on the tip of your tongue, his cheeks pink and eyes icy blue, he smiles back. Thinks he could learn to love the cold, if it comes with companionship like this.

[dreaming-of-assclass]

AssClass Christmas Fics: Part 2

Group 2 + Snowball Fight ☃️

This is so long overdue... *sobs*

So my original plan was to do all 5 fics during Christmas...and that failed lmao. This will be the last one since I had already started it and might as well post. It’s way too late to finish three other Christmas fics now haha. Don’t worry, the other groups will get time to shine in other fics I’m already planning UwU

_____

“Avengers, assemble!” Okajima shouted, before getting pelted in the mouth by a flimsy snowball. “Ow!”

“I already said, three times, that’s not our team name!” Nakamura yelled back, adjusting the baby blue beanie that sat atop her head. 

“Then what do you propose instead?” He challenged, wiping off the remaining bits of ice off his face. 

“I wanted to be the Heathers,” she replied coolly.

Okajima groaned. “No! That sounds lame!” 

“And you’re such a fake theater kid already,” Chiba chimed in with a snicker, easily dodging the snowball she tossed in his direction.

“Oh shut up, punk.” Nakamura stuck her tongue out at him, but her lips were curved up into an amused smirk.

“Can we just start already?” Sugaya sighed, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets. “My joints are starting to freeze, being out here.”

“Here” was referring to the empty park field that was a block away from Fuwa’s house. Of course, given that it was late December, the field was a wasteland of pure white. Snow rested heavily on the ground, reaching past their ankles as they tried to move around. The forest of barren trees that surrounded them carried the same pearly frost on their branches. 

The snow seemed to sparkle, just simply laying over the ground, or over the bare branches. A sheet of ice fully covered the pond that was across the long white field, closer to the playground. And the sky above them was an eerie yet dazzling shade of blue-ish gray.

Part of Sugaya wanted to grab his sketchbook and paints, and create a portrait of the natural beauty around him, ingrain it in both his mind and across his papers. But a larger part of him was freezing and tired and frankly not in the mood for a snowball fight at 8am. Why did he agree to this again? Whose idea even was this?!

“Aww, Sugaya is cold,” Nakamura mocked playfully. He fought against the urge to roll his eyes.

“Maybe you should’ve worn something other than just that thin jacket,” Hayami pointed out, rubbing her mitten-clad hands together. “No wonder you keep complaining like a little kid.”

“It’s for the aesthetic,” Sugaya mumbled, patting down the front of his jacket defensively. “Why is everyone attacking me?”

“Because you’re immature and unprepared?” Mimura offered with a smile, showing he wasn’t being serious. He laughed at the tired expression Sugaya offered. “Relax, we can get hot chocolate after this at my house.”

The artist relaxed a bit at that. “Sounds great,” he smiled. “Which of us geniuses came up with this, anyhow-?”

“Get into your teams now!” A loud voice entered the fray, and Sugaya glanced up only to smack himself in the forehead. Of course, it would be none other than Fuwa to instigate a war of some kind between her friends. A snow war, sure, but a war nonetheless. 

The violet-haired manga fanatic stood mighty, one foot propped up on a frost-covered large rock by the edge of the field. Her beloved sword was nowhere in sight, but no one would be surprised if she’d just hidden it for the time being.

The teams, chosen by Fuwa herself, were:

1. Nakamura, Okajima, and Fuwa

2. Chiba and Sugaya

3. Mimura and Hayami

She likely intended for there to be a balance, so a team could have one person with awful aim paired up with a Sniper. Or to have the team of 3, where they all had about average throwing skills. 

And then the snowball war was set to begin.

“This is gonna end badly,” Sugaya mumbled to himself five minutes later, as he crouched behind a makeshift snow fort that Chiba easily assembled.

“This is gonna be amazing,” Nakamura whispered in glee as she hid by a tree, a snowball already formed in her hands. 

And then it descended into chaos.

Snowballs flew across the park as the assassins-in-training attacked one another, dashing across the field with howls of laughter. 

Already eight minutes in, they were all covered with broken pieces of snow that had collided with their jackets. 

“Surrender now!” Fuwa shouted, a grin on her face as she raised her snowball threateningly in the air. 

“Never!” Mimura screamed from his position on the freezing ground, completely at her mercy. “I am the Fae Lord! I will go down in honor!” 

“I gave you a warning, and you refused it. Tsk tsk.” Fuwa shook her head in mock disappointment, ready to pelt him with the snowball. All of a sudden, a flurry of snow collapsed against the side of her coat. 

“Huh?! Who hit me?!” She demanded, dropping her icy weapon in surprise. 

A head peeked out from behind the snow fort. “Mimura!” Hayami called, already gathering another lethal snowball. “Run!”

He obeyed and made a run for it, nearly slipping on the snowy ground, all while dodging a flurry of snow aimed at him. Wow, must be from our training, he thought with a smile.

“Aw shit!” Mimura glanced up at the sound of Okajima’s voice and nearly fell over at the sight of the pervert completely covered in a giant pile of snow, that fell from the tree above him. 

Okajima had an expression of resignation while his partner, Nakamura, looked like she was busting a lung from her laughter. 

“Don’t just laugh! Help me!” Okajima pleaded.

Nakamura wiped a tear from her eye, her body still shaking with laughter. “Sorry kid, but I have to go win this thing.” She straightened up and flashed him a wink. “I’ll win for you though!”

“Nakamura, wait-!” But she’d already dashed away, back into the field, cackling maniacally in anticipation of attacking her friends.

Another half hour of fighting and fun passed by. There wasn’t a clear winner in the end, and it ended in a tie between Fuwa and Nakamura. But needless to say, all of the enjoyed themselves immensely.

“Ah, that was so much fun,” Nakamura sighed, gazing up at the wintery blue sky. 

All seven of them were laying on the snow-covered field besides each other, catching their breath and waiting for the adrenaline rush to wear off. 

“I’m glad we did this,” Hayami agreed quietly, smiling at her.

“See? I told you guys it’d be awesome,” Fuwa sighed, making a snow angel as she waved her arms and legs against the snow.

“Yeah, you were right.” Mimura laughed, copying her movements.

“Well, my ass is still freezing,” Sugaya chimed in, earning laughter from all of them. “But I will admit, I had fun.” He smiled.

Chiba smirked. “Oh, I especially enjoyed getting a free excuse to beat Okajima.”

“Oh, seconded.”

“Definitely.”

“It goes without saying.”

“WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS TREATMENT?” Okajima sobbed.

“We’re just kidding, you oaf,” Nakamura snickered, punching him lightly in the shoulder. “We actually kinda love you.”

“I mean, seeing that tree dump all of the snow onto you was the highlight of my year, but yeah,” Mimura added.

“You guys are the worst,” Okajima groaned. “I almost died!”

“You loveeeee us~!” They all teased him.

“Sure.” He rolled his eyes fondly. “But speaking of die, I think I will if we stay out here any longer. It’s so damn cold!” He shivered.

“Alright.” Mimura stood and stretched his arms out. “Time to get to my house for some hot chocolate and a Christmas movie. Which move do you guys want?”

“Home Alone!” Nakamura shouted.

“No, we’ve already watched that,” Chiba complained.

“Then...Home Alone 2!”

“No!” He yelled.

Fuwa chimed in. “I want to watch The Polar Express!”

“That one is boring.” Sugaya scrunched his nose. “How about Gremlins instead?”

“If I wanted to watch something about Gremlins, I’d just look at Kimura’s behavior for a whole day,” Hayami snarked.

Mimura chuckled and waved his arms. “Ok ok, guys calm down! These are all great suggestions, but let’s decide on one.”

“How?” Okajima questioned.

“Another snowball fight?” Fuwa suggested, a glint to her eyes as she grinned.

“FUWA NO-”

[cassandraclare]

A spooky Lucie flash fiction story for October! Early Halloween. ;)

LONDON, 1897

“There are many kinds of ghosts,” Jessamine said, “but they tend to fall into three categories. You have mostly known ghosts like me, who are kind and beautiful and have wonderful personalities.”

Lucie almost snorted, but luckily Jessamine didn’t seem to notice. They were in the courtyard of the Institute, where Lucie was playing, and avoiding her family. Woolsey Scott was coming over for tea, and they were busy straightening up and putting away the silver — like all werewolves, he was allergic. Lucie didn’t mind Woolsey Scott, except that like most of the adults who visited the Institute he was tremendously boring, and also when he looked at her she felt that he was judging her for her untidiness and her ink-stained fingers. She had snuck off to play in the garden, and when nobody had come to fetch her, she decided she was safe.

Perhaps they assumed the coming rain would drive her back inside. The sky was thick with leaden clouds, and while the rain held off for now, the air contained that particular scent that meant it was inevitable.

She had made up a game to go with a story she had been composing recently. It was about a well-brought up young girl who was forced to become a pirate queen to save her kidnapped parents, and discovered she had quite a knack for it. She ran around the garden, weaving between bushes, imagining the she was a pirate queen whose sailors had whipped up a mutiny. The key was to look deeply distressed, extremely tragic, then spin around fast, stabbing out with the stick she was using as a sword.

She had stopped to decide whether the pirate queen should sport a silver mask or a black one when Jessamine, the Institute’s resident ghost, came floating down from an upper window like a torn page falling in a breeze....

 Lucie had known Jessamine her whole life, and understood that Jessamine had been friends with her parents when she was alive, though none of them had ever told her the full story. Lucie thought of Jessamine mostly as part of the furniture, a drifting presence that seemed content to wander through the halls of the Institute and occasionally criticize the place’s new modern décor and Lucie’s father’s choice of clothes.

“Hullo, Jessamine,” Lucie said now. She was disappointed; she had been enjoying her game. She hoped she would remember all the details of the pirate queen and the mutiny so she could write them down when she was back inside.

“Lucie,” Jessamine said, “I think it is time to speak with you about ghosts.”

“Now?” said Lucie in dismay.

Jessamine looked up at the sky. “It is the right weather for ghosts,” she said. “Now, listen.

“Some ghosts stay among the living because unfinished business holds them here. Some stay to protect those they love. And some stay because of hatred, malice, bitterness.” She ruffled Lucie’s hair; it felt like being brushed by a breeze. “You must learn to ignore that kind of ghost. Turn away from them. They feed off your fear. Without your fear they can do nothing to you.”

“I’ll remember,” Lucie murmured.

Jessamine cocked her head at Lucie. “Mind that you do,” she said, and vanished as suddenly as she’d appeared.

Lucie assumed that Jessamine had become a ghost in order to protect those she loved, but she was very strange regardless. A little more doubtful, she returned to her game. In the distance was a noise that might have been thunder or might have just been the bustle of London.

Her game took her out of the Institute’s courtyard and down the road a bit. The street was almost empty, but at one point Lucie whirled around to confront the boatswain who had pretended loyalty to her, while actually working for the mutinous first mate, and almost stabbed an actual person. She gasped, and took a step back. “I’m so sorry!” she cried. “I didn’t know you were there.”

The woman who stood before her wore a dark gray Victorian dress that gave her the look of an old-fashioned schoolteacher. In her gloved hand was a battered black valise. Her face was thin and pale and peaked, her hair straggling.

Lucie waited awkwardly, uncertain what to say. She should have remained on the Institute’s grounds, where glamour would have ensured no unexpected encounters with mundane humans. The woman considered her, and Lucie wondered if perhaps she wasn’t a mundane after all. But she had no runes, so she wasn’t a Shadowhunter. Could she be a Downworlder? She showed no outward signs of being a faerie or warlock or werewolf, and though she was pale, she was out in daylight, so she couldn’t be a vampire.

“I must ask something of you, little girl.” The woman’s voice was rough, as though she hadn’t spoken in a long time. “Are your parents looking for a governess? I am an excellent governess.”

She held out a paper—her credentials, perhaps, but Lucie’s attention was arrested by the woman’s hand.

It was no longer gloved. Now it was skeletal, the bone white as snow. Dark red blood was dripping from the ends of her fingers, soaking into the paper.

Lucie took a step back, breath catching in her throat. “You’re a ghost,” she said, almost without meaning to. But a ghost had never walked up to her on the street like this, certainly not one with skeletal hands. She looked back up at the ghost’s face. It was gaunt, slightly distorted, and it frightened her. “You can’t trick me,” Lucie said, trying to sound brave. “I can see you for what you are.”

“What a clever little girl,” The ghost’s raspy voice took on an unpleasant tone. “I don’t like clever little girls. I used to look after six of them. They played tricks on me and taunted me. One night I went up to their room and stabbed them, one at a time, all through their clever little hearts.”

Lucie’s blood ran cold. The ghost reached out, as if it were going to touch Lucie’s own heart, and she turned and ran full tilt in the direction of her home. She remembered what Jessamine had said, but how could she not be afraid? She could feel the presence of the ghost behind her, a prickling at the back of her neck. Lucie had just reached the gate when she stumbled over a loose stone and fell, scraping her knee on the path.

The ghost glided forward, reaching as though to help her up. “You could be my new pupil….”

Lucie scrambled away. “Stop! Get back!”

To her surprise, the ghost sprang away, looking startled. Perhaps little girls didn’t ordinarily yell at it. Lucie was about to scream for help, but help had already arrived.

Jessamine descended from the sky and stood between Lucie and the woman. But this was Jessamine as Lucie had never seen her: an avenging angel, looming above both Lucie and the ghost-woman, icy fury on her face. Lucie gasped in shock as Jessamine raised her hands, as if she were about to perform some terrifying incantation.

“No,” the ghost-woman moaned, her mouth yawning open horribly, showing a cavern of blackness. “I did not know this one was guarded. I did not know….”

“You will flee from here,” Jessamine commanded, and even her voice was different, deep and wild, like the crashing of waves. “You will leave this place, foul spirit!”

The ghost cowered for a moment, then vanished into nothingness.

Lucie lay on the garden path, staring up at Jessamine, who had shrunk down to her usual size. “Stop gaping, Lucie, it’ll give you wrinkles. Come on, up with you.” She had returned to her normal mien, pretty and dignified and distant.

“Thank you,” said Lucie faintly.

“Mind how you go,” Jessamine said sternly. “And heed what I’ve told you. There is more than one kind of ghost.” And she drifted up again and vanished.

The lesson stayed with Lucie for a long time. She never blamed Jessamine for not knowing there was a fourth kind of spirit. Even if Jessamine had known, she could not have prepared Lucie for the fact that meeting him would change her life forever.