#i guess there was snow on the mountain tops out here for a bit but i havent seen any actual snowfall this year. tho we did get a 2hr delay

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[assriels]

honeyed temptations

pairing: azriel x reader 

word count: 2.2k

warnings: some smut and suggestive language (mdni 18+ only pls!!), swearing, azriel is whipped for u but is also very stubborn, domesticity/fluff

summary: despite azriel’s relative indifference to most things, he absolutely, undeniably hates the heat. and fucking loves when you wear sundresses.

a/n: continuation of my ongoing headcanon that azriel is actually kind of a stubborn baby, especially with his mate; i have a summer oneshot for cassian coming out soon! <3

masterlist

banners by @/cafekitsune <3

Azriel was fucking furious. It was like the sun had a personal vendetta against him, determined to steal any and all comfort from him as he baked in the hot morning sun in your shared bedroom.

Peak summer in Velaris was nothing to scoff at. Though the Night Court was hailed for the beauty of its moon and stars, the same could not be said for its seasons. It was a solar court and that meant that its moon waxed and waned through the full dearth of the seasons. And summer just so happened to be Azriel’s least favorite. 

Though he could handle the strikingly cold winters the Night Court had to offer — it snowed quite heavily in Illyria, afterall — the heat of the summer was unbearably oppressive. It didn’t help that his current residence was the House of Wind, built high on a mountain cliff where the heat rose and was entirely too close to the sun. Not even the House’s breeze helped staunch his somewhat over exaggerated agitation at the rising temperatures. 

It was still morning, but it seemed that the sun had decided that it would be especially insufferable today, showboating its prowess even at 9 in the morning. 

“C’mon Az,” you implored, gentle hand poking his bare shoulder. “Rhys is here, we have a meeting.” 

He pouted at you from where he was sprawled out on the bed, not having bothered to get up — or put clothes on — despite having been awake for an hour now. He rolled onto his side to get a better look at you, hoping that if he pouted enough you’d have mercy on him and let him stay naked and as cool as possible; the thought of putting on clothes — most of which he owned were black — made Azriel’s head ache. 

“‘s too hot.” 

You huffed a laugh at his childlike petulance. Who would have guessed the feared Shadowsinger of the Night Court couldn’t handle a little heat? 

“You’re being a baby,” you chuckled, sitting on the edge of the bed as you attempted to negotiate with your mate to get out of bed. 

It was then that he took stock of your appearance. You had always been much less bothered by the heat than he was — and much more functional in it — and so your morning routines were never disrupted. You had already bathed and gotten ready, pretty little sundress skimming your curves as the hem tickled the skin on your legs. 

“You look nice,” Azriel noted with a hum of appreciation. Ordinarily, he would’ve reached over and pulled you on top of him to make both of you late for Rhys’s meeting for an entirely different reason, but he couldn’t fathom getting any more sticky and sweaty than he already was, so he resisted. Instead, he opted for toying with the hem of your dress in contemplation.

“Is this new?” He asked, taking in the sweet honey yellow linen and thin straps. You nodded your head and smoothed your hands down your front, fixing the neckline of your dress in a way that had Azriel’s eyes burning holes through your skin. 

“Do you like it? I bought it when I went out with Feyre the other day.” You intentionally left out that you had bought it with the explicit purpose of using it to tempt your mate out of bed, knowing that he always needed a little bit of incentive in the summer. 

Assessing hazel eyes tracked the familiar planes of your body, face lit with an entirely different kind of heat now, “Yeah, I like it.” 

His gaze lifted to yours and you nearly gave into him. The adoration in his eyes and the blush high on the apples of his cheeks was mesmerizing, “You’re very pretty, you know.” 

Azriel’s unfiltered affections for you always made your heart beat quicken, and your attention shifted to his hand resting comfortably on your thigh, thumb drawing innocent circles on your skin. You bent over to kiss him briefly in thanks before patting his hand and getting up off the bed. 

You could’ve sworn you heard Azriel whine in protest, but it was drowned out by the sound of you sifting through the dresser, no doubt searching for clothes to throw his way.

He watched you from his spot on the bed, eyeing the way the hem of your dress billowed from your waist and just barely covered the curve of your ass. He was convinced that he could stare at you for an eternity and still find new parts of you to marvel at. 

Before he could get too lost in his greedy appreciation of your beauty and the stunning way your dress complimented every curve and dip of your body, you were tossing clothes at his face.

“Stop staring and get dressed!” You laughed, “You know Cass is gonna give you shit for being late. Again.”

It was no secret to those closest to Azriel that he was an absolute terror when the summer rolled around. Though it only took a week or two for him to adjust and become begrudgingly functional again, the days leading up to his revival were always a source of great amusement to the Inner Circle. Ah, the perfect Shadowsinger finally reveals his flaws, Cassian would consistently tease.

He only groaned in response, rolling onto his back once again to stare at the ceiling. 

You sighed. Truthfully, you found this side of him endearing – and quite funny – but you knew he had a job to do and nothing would get done unless he was, at the very least, clothed. Sauntering over to the bed, you looked down at him with your hands on your hips. You were met only with a stubborn look in return; you could’ve sworn you glimpsed the ghost of a defiant smirk curving his lips, “Make me.”

You reeled at his challenge. Fine, you would make him. 

The bed shifted as you straddled him on all fours, careful not to let any part of you touch any part of him. His hands came up instinctively to grasp your hips as he didn’t even try to hide his triumphant smile. But you wouldn’t let him get away with it, at least not now.

You encircled his wrists in your hands, guiding them above his head to pin them to the pillow. Both of you knew he could easily wriggle out of your grasp, but Azriel was aware that this was riling you up just as much as him so he conceded. Allowed his beautiful mate to do whatever she pleased.

“Don’t touch,” you commanded in his ear, punctuating your words with a slow swirl of your tongue along the shell of his ear. “If you listen, I promise I’ll be so, so good for you.”

Unexpected emotion flooded his chest as he resisted the urge to break the tension with his affection for you. You were already so good for him. In more ways than he could have ever wanted, more ways than he ever imagined. But he kept his mouth shut, and focused only on the way he could feel the hem of your dress kissing his skin as your mouth nipped at sucked at all the places that drove him insane. 

“C’mon, Az,” you cooed, licking a sinful path up his neck before you blew on his skin, reveling in the way goosebumps rose on his flesh despite the sweltering weather. “Get up for me, huh?”

He didn’t miss the double entendre as you tracked a scathing wet trail down his body, your tongue — frustratingly — the only part of you touching him. He was being difficult and you were making him pay for it by teasing him in ways only you knew how to. Azriel groaned low and deep when your cool breath hit right beneath his bellybutton, abs flexing as he willed himself to maintain his composure. You still weren’t touching him, and he was already embarrassingly hard, body desperate to feel your skin on his. 

His brow furrowed with concentration and lust as he met your gaze right before your lips puckered and you took the head of his cock – pretty and swollen and throbbing just for you – into your mouth. Azriel’s head flopped back onto his pillow as he loosed a long, deep breath, a cross between a sigh and a moan so pleasing to hear that you nearly forgot your initial intentions. 

One well placed stroke of your tongue had your eyes meeting his yet again, all dark pupils and a thin ring of gorgeous hazel. You were the picture of perfect seduction, pretty lips split open on his cock, bent over him in such a way that gave him an unobstructed view of your cleavage beneath your dress. You released him with a sinfully wet pop! as you pulled back and smiled at him, sweet and teasing before you blew gently on his tip. Azriel shuddered.

Oh, Mother above. He was milliseconds away from flipping you onto your back and tearing your godsforsaken dress right off you — or maybe he’d keep it on — but you were faster, jumping just out of his reach and off the bed, as if you hadn’t just addled his mind with fantasies of all the ways he could fuck you in that dress. 

The wicked smirk of satisfaction curving your lips told him that you’d had your intended effect. Azriel was barely able to recalibrate his bearings in time for him to notice you heading towards the door. He sputtered in disbelief, “Where are you going?”

Before you traipsed out the bedroom door, you turned back to look at him, “To be continued, mate. After you get dressed.”

When you shut the door behind you, Azriel could have sworn he heard your giddy, maniacal laughter echo in time to the sound of your footsteps down the stairs. Now he had two problems: 1) he was still hot as the fires of Hell and 2) he was achingly hard and knew he’d have to make a concerted effort not to look too long at you in that dress all day if he wanted to cling to what little composure he had.

He sighed as his shadows swirled around his ears, barely offering any reprieve from the heat. 

Pretty mate. So, so pretty. Everyone thinks so. 

Make that three problems: 3) Cassian would be making innocent comments about you looking so good in that dress just to irritate him. 

The possession roiling around in his gut – courtesy of the mating bond – was his final straw as he scrubbed a frustrated hand down his face. Fucking fine, he would put the damn clothes on. 

☾𖤓 epilogue ☾𖤓

“Where’s that overgrown child you call a mate, anyway?” Cassian quipped after you made your appearance in the dining room for breakfast. 

“Exactly where you think he is,” you laughed over a bite of toast.

“What’s wrong with Azriel?” Feyre implored innocently, “Is he not feeling well?” 

Rhys chuckled and shook his head, “Azriel is not very fond of the summer—“

“That’s an understatement,” you and Cassian mumbled under your breaths in tandem.

“—and it’s a nightmare getting him to do anything in heat like this. But luckily we have Y/N.”

Before your High Lady could ask the question on the tip of her tongue, Cassian stole a piece of bacon off your plate, ignoring the way you protested, “I mean, you’ve seen how whipped he is Feyre. He’ll do anything if Y/N even suggests she wants him to. Az only gets out of bed in the summer because she asks.”

In retribution for your stolen bacon, you speared the rest of Cassian’s eggs and forked them into your mouth before he could inch away from you. You didn’t respond, knowing all too well that Azriel actually would not get out of bed even if you asked, leaving you to resort to other…tactics. 

“I’m not a child, you know.” Came Azriel’s petulant interruption as he greeted you with a brief kiss to your head and the rest of his family with a grunt of acknowledgement, “I can do things on my own, in case you forgot.”

“We’ll stop calling you one, once you stop acting like it,” Cassian taunted.

Azriel’s scoff was his only response as he sat down next to you at the table, plating two pieces of bacon in front of you to replace the one he knew Cassian had no doubt probably taken. You smiled up at him gratefully, and despite the still sweltering heat that had only seemed to have gotten worse as time progressed, he smiled back. 

Feyre was in awe; it was like the heat had melted away his stony exterior, leaving the real Azriel exposed for everyone to see. Feyre met your gaze across the table, a mischievous glint in her eyes that told you she was more than privy to the extraneous measures you had taken to coax your mate out of bed.

“How do you do it?” Cassian not-so-quietly whispered to you. 

“I have my ways,” you responded cryptically with a smirk as Azriel’s hand ventured beneath the hem of your dress, squeezing your thigh.

You would most definitely be paying for your little shenanigan in the bedroom later.  

[pucksandpower]

What’s the Worst That Can Happen?

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: Charles convinces his unathletic girlfriend to join him for his annual winter training ski trip … what’s the worst that can happen?

Warnings: description of ski injury and mentions of surgery

Based on this request

“Pretty please?” Charles begs, giving you his best puppy dog eyes.

You let out an exaggerated sigh. “Oh come on, you know I’m hopeless at anything athletic. I’ll just end up faceplanting in the snow the whole time.”

Charles grins, wrapping his arms around your waist. “That’s what I’m here for, to catch you when you fall.”

“Yeah until I drag us both down a mountain,” you retort.

He laughs. “I promise I won’t let that happen. We’ll start nice and easy on the bunny slopes.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Bunny slopes? Mr. Formula 1 driver wants to ski the bunny slopes with his clumsy girlfriend?”

“Hey, everyone has to start somewhere,” Charles protests. “Even the great Charles Leclerc was once a beginner. And the bunny slopes are the perfect place to learn together.”

You snuggle against his chest, still not convinced. “But it’s so cold there. You know I hate being cold.”

Charles kisses the top of your head. “The hotel has an amazing spa with hot tubs and a sauna. We can warm up in there after skiing. I’ll even give you a massage if you’re sore from falling down too much.”

“Gee thanks,” you laugh. “But what if I really am hopeless at it? I don’t want to ruin your trip.”

“Impossible,” Charles declares. “You could never ruin anything. This is about us having fun together, not about expert skiing. Though I have no doubt you’ll be shredding the black diamonds in no time.”

You smack his chest playfully. “Okay now you’re just lying to make me feel better.”

“Never,” Charles gasps in mock offense. “I have complete faith in your yet-to-be-discovered skiing abilities.”

You bite your lip, smiling shyly. His enthusiasm is adorable, even if misplaced. “Well, I guess it could be fun to try something new together ...”

Charles pumps his fist in excitement. “Yes! That’s my girl, up for an adventure!”

You hold up a finger in warning. “But I get to pick my own skis, and a helmet with a cute design on it. If I’m going to be falling a lot, I at least want to look stylish doing it.”

Charles grins. “Of course, whatever you need. I’ll take you to the best ski shops in town. You’ll be the most fashionable beginner skier on the mountain.”

You smile, shaking your head. “You’re crazy, you know that? Most guys wouldn’t want to deal with their girlfriends being accident-prone novices who will just slow them down.”

Charles takes your hands in his, gazing into your eyes earnestly. “Most guys are idiots then. I don’t care if you’re the clumsiest skier ever, I just want to experience new things with you. We’ll take everything slow, stop for plenty of hot chocolate breaks, and I’ll catch you every time you start to slip. The most important thing is being together.”

Your heart flutters at his words. You lean in for a tender kiss. “How did I get so lucky to find a man as sweet and patient as you?”

Charles smiles, pulling you close again. “I’m the lucky one. Now come on, we better start packing if we want to make our flight tomorrow morning!”

You wrinkle your nose. “Tomorrow? As in, the day after today? Don’t you think that’s rushing it a bit?”

“Why wait any longer to start having fun?” Charles counters enthusiastically. “Unless … you’re trying to back out already?” He pouts accusingly.

“No, no, I already agreed!” You insist. “It’s just, my suitcase is a mess and I’ll have to dig through my winter clothes and shop for ski gear and ...” Your protests trail off at the amused look on his face.

“Excuses, excuses,” Charles teases. “Admit it, you’re trying to stall so you can change your mind.”

You smack his shoulder again. “I am not! I promise I’m not backing out. I’m just … nervous. I’ve never skied before, what if I really am a disaster?” You bite your lip anxiously.

Charles tilts your chin up. “Hey, you’re going to do great. I’ll be with you every step of the way. But if you really aren’t comfortable, we can rethink this.” His eyes search yours with concern. “I don’t want you to feel pressured into anything, even from me. We can pick a different winter trip if you would rather do something else.”

You shake your head, smiling softly. “No, it’s okay. You’re right, it’ll be fun to try something new together. I’m just psyching myself out cause I’ve never been skiing before. But with you there supporting me … I can do it.”

Charles’s face lights up. “Yeah?”

You nod, leaning up on your toes for another lingering kiss. “Yeah. I trust you.”

“You’re the best!” Charles shouts gleefully, lifting you up and spinning you around. You cling to his shoulders, laughing.

“Whoa there, save some of that energy for the slopes,” you tease.

Charles sets you down gently, though his eyes still sparkle with exhilaration. “I’m just excited, that’s all. This is going to be such an amazing trip.” He kisses your forehead. “Thank you for agreeing to come. It means the world that you trust me enough to try this with me.”

You smile, running a hand through his hair. “Of course. Any chance to spend time with you is worth facing my fears and clumsiness.”

Charles grins. “Remember you said that when I have to stop every ten feet on the bunny slope to help you up.”

You smack his chest playfully. “Hey! I might not be totally hopeless.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Charles says seriously. “For all I know, you could be a secret skiing prodigy.”

You snort. “Yeah right. But I promise I’ll try my best not to plow into too many innocent bystanders.”

“That’s the spirit!” Charles encourages. “We’re going to have the best time.”

You smile up at him softly. “I know. Anywhere with you feels like an adventure.”

Charles’s eyes shine with adoration. He leans down for one more lingering kiss. “I love you so much. Now come on, we’ve got packing to do!”

He grabs your hand and you let him lead you excitedly down the hall, butterflies swirling in your stomach. You still feel nervous attempting something so out of your comfort zone. But Charles’s childlike enthusiasm is contagious. And you know without a doubt that by his side, you’re ready to try anything.

What’s the worst that can happen?

***

Famous last words.

This is the only thought running through your head as you stand at the top of the beginner ski slope, knees knocking together nervously. Charles had seemed so confident about this yesterday. But now, staring down the gentle incline covered in packed snow, you’re starting to realize how insane it is to strap slippery sticks to your feet and careen down a mountain.

Beginner slope or not, you’re certain to make a fool of yourself.

Charles must notice your trepidation, because he squeezes your mittened hand gently. “You’ve got this, mon amour. I’ll be right by your side the whole time.”

You smile weakly, comforted by his presence. At least when you inevitably crash and burn, it will be into his strong, steady arms.

Charles grins at you eagerly. “Ready to give it a try?”

You take a deep breath, willing your knees to stop quaking. “As I’ll ever be.”

“That’s the spirit!” Charles says brightly. He turns to address the small crowd behind you — his performance coach Andrea, best friend Joris, photographer Antoine, trainer Nico, and friend Antonio. “Okay guys, let’s start nice and easy so she can get the hang of it. We’ll take turns skiing slowly beside her.”

You feel a rush of gratitude for Charles’ patience and consideration. The other men cheerfully voice their agreement. With so many experienced skiers guiding you, surely you can handle gently sliding down this minor incline.

Charles volunteers to go first, expertly snapping into his skis and gliding to your side. “Just stay relaxed, bend your knees, and focus on keeping your tips pointing forward. The snow will do most of the work, you just have to guide the direction. I’ll stay right here if you need me.”

You wobble forward, mimicking Charles’ athletic stance as best you can. The slope doesn’t look nearly as gentle anymore now that you’re staring down it. But with Charles’ coaxing, you slowly push off.

For a moment, you feel triumphant. The icy wind whips past your face as you coast downhill, skis sliding smoothly. You’re doing it! This isn’t so hard after all.

But your small victory is short-lived. An unexpected bump jolts you, throwing off your tenuous balance. You pinwheel your arms frantically as the ground rushes up to meet you.

Before you can taste snow, Charles’ strong hands grip your waist, stabilizing you back upright. “Whoa there! I’ve got you, just regain your balance.”

Your heart pounds against your ribs. But the reassurance in Charles’s voice helps settle your nerves. With his support steadying you, you manage to get both skis back under control.

“Thanks,” you sigh in relief. “That would have been a quick first run.”

Charles grins. “What are ski instructors for? You recovered nicely. Want to keep going to the bottom?”

You eye the remainder of the slope warily. But so far with Charles’ help, you’ve managed not to cause a complete disaster. “Okay, but stay close please.”

“Always,” Charles promises, sticking to your side like glue.

With Charles’ hand hovering protectively behind your back, you make it the rest of the way down the slope with only a few wobbles. At the bottom, you collapse into Charles’ arms, exhilarated.

“I did it!” You cheer. Charles sweeps you up in a hug, spinning you around.

“You were amazing!” He proclaims proudly. “A natural.”

You smack his shoulder. “Oh stop, I would have face-planted in two seconds without you.”

“But you didn’t and that’s what matters,” Charles insists earnestly. “I told you this would be fun!”

You can’t help but smile, caught up in his enthusiasm. As the rest of the group takes their turns skiing slowly beside you for a few more timid runs, you start to relax into the motion. Having skilled athletes guide you step-by-step gives you the confidence to slide a little faster, turn more smoothly, and keep your balance over bumps.

With each successful run, Charles’ grin grows impossibly wider. “Look at you go!” He exclaims after your latest effort. “You’ve gotten so good, I might have some competition soon.”

You snort. “Let’s not get carried away.” But secretly, you’re thrilled by the progress. Maybe you do have some hidden athletic talent after all.

On your next run, you’re feeling confident enough to wave Charles forward. “I think I can make it one time on my own now. Just stay ahead in case I start to wobble.”

“You sure?” Charles checks, poised protectively at your side. At your firm nod, he smiles. “Alright, you’ve got this! I’ll just be a few paces ahead.”

As Charles slides effortlessly downhill, you push off after him, a fierce look of determination on your face. For a few moments, everything goes perfectly. You whoop excitedly as you zip down the slope, wind stinging your cheeks. Charles cheers you on from where he’s stopped halfway down.

But right as you reach him, disaster strikes. Your left ski hits a patch of ice and skids wildly sideways. You flail your arms, trying to stay upright, but it’s too late. Your legs fly out from under you and you’re airborne, the white ground spinning dizzily.

You slam down hard on your bottom with a painful whump. For a second, stunned silence fills the air. Then Charles is at your side, helping you up as raucous laughter echoes from the group gathered at the bottom.

“You okay?” Charles asks, barely contained mirth dancing in his eyes.

You groan theatrically. “Only my pride is bruised.”

Charles wraps an arm around your shoulders, joining in the laughter. “It was an awesome run up until that point!”

You lean your throbbing head against him for support. “Laugh it up, superstar. We can’t all be pros like you.”

Charles presses a quick kiss to your helmet. “Even the pros take spills sometimes. Falling is part of learning. And you really are getting so good!”

From below, Joris cups his hands to shout encouragingly, “We’re proud of you!” The rest of the group gives thumbs up and cheers.

Their support, combined with Charles’ steadfast pride, melts away your embarrassment. This mishap was simply proof you still have more to learn on your journey to skiing mediocrity.

After a few more cautious runs under the wing of Charles’ companions, you regain the courage to try solo again. Each time you stay upright a little longer, recovering from slips with increasing agility. The sun reflects brilliantly off the pristine white slopes, making you squint against the glare. But with the Dolomites rising majestically around you, icy air filling your lungs, and Charles’ voice urging you onward, you feel truly in your element.

By afternoon, the group decides you’re ready for something more challenging. Charles leads everyone to the top of a longer and steeper slope. It’s still rated for beginners, but looking down the incline makes your stomach drop.

“You’ve got this,” Charles says as you stare uncertainly. “It looks scary, but you’ll build up speed gradually. Just remember everything you’ve learned.”

You take a deep breath and nod, encouraged by his vote of confidence. As the others line up to follow behind you, Charles gives your gloved hand one last encouraging squeeze.

“See you at the bottom, mon amour!” He snaps on his own skis and glides smoothly to the base to wait. Heart hammering against your ribs, you push off.

The acceleration down the hill is alarming at first, icy wind biting your cheeks. But focusing on keeping your skis parallel, you manage to control your speed, leaning into smooth turns like Charles taught you.

Halfway down the slope you chance a glance over your shoulder. The group is fanned out behind you, following your path and whooping encouragement. Their cheers on this more difficult hill send a thrill of pride through you. Just wait until you tell your friends back home that you, Miss Uncoordinated Klutz herself, skied down an actual mountain!

But in your moment of distraction, disaster strikes again. Your right ski snags on something, jerking you off balance. Panicked, you spin your arms rapidly to recover. But it’s too late. You’re careening out of control, picking up dangerous speed.

“Look out!” You scream as you zip across the slope sideways. But the ground is racing too fast to stop. Other skiers scatter hastily out of your path as you barrel toward them like a runaway freight train. You slam through their midst in a spray of snow, not even having time to wince apologetically at the curses that follow your wake.

Up ahead, Charles’ figure grows rapidly larger as you hurtle toward him. He holds out his arms bracingly, but the impact when you collide sends you both tumbling head over heels in a tangle of skis and poles. Snow sprays violently in your wake.

When you finally roll to a stop, face down and groaning at the base of the slope, all is silent. Hesitantly you raise your head, blinking snow from your eyelashes. The sight that greets you is one of absolute chaos.

Skiers litter the slope, sprawled in your destructive path like fallen bowling pins. Poles, hats, and gloves are strewn haphazardly across the snow. Fresh scarlet tracks stain the pristine white from ski edges catching on now-shredded pants and jackets. Groans of pain and bewilderment fill the air.

Horrified, your gaze lands on Charles pushing himself up just a few feet away, covered head to toe in snow. He shakes powder from his hair, blinking dazedly. Then his eyes land on you.

“Mon amour, are you okay?” He asks, scrambling over in concern.

Mortified tears prickle your eyes as you stare speechlessly around at the scene of destruction. So much for impressing everyone with your burgeoning ski talents.

Some first day on the slopes this turned out to be.

***

As Charles helps haul you to your feet, pain suddenly explodes in your left knee. You cry out, leg buckling dangerously beneath you. Charles’ arms instantly wrap around your waist, holding you up.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, brow creased in concern.

You grimace, tentatively trying to put weight on your leg again only for searing agony to shoot through your knee joint. “Something’s really wrong,” you gasp through clenched teeth.

Charles’ face pales. He keeps you supported against his side as he quickly unclips your skis so you’re not stuck in them. The moment your left foot touches the snow though, you yell in pain, leg giving out dangerously again.

Charles sweeps you up effortlessly in his arms. “I’ve got you, don’t try to stand on it,” he urges worriedly.

Over Charles’ shoulder, you see his friends weaving through the dispersing crowd of skiers, fetching a medic. As they confer in urgent French and Italian, Charles holds you close, face etched with guilt.

“This is all my fault,” he murmurs, distressed. “I never should have pushed you to try skiing when you weren’t comfortable.”

Despite the fire burning inside your knee, you force a pained smile, touching Charles’ cheek. “Hey, don’t do that. I wanted to try, remember? You didn’t pressure me into anything.”

Charles just shakes his head bitterly. “But look what happened. I’m so sorry, mon amour.”

You open your mouth to protest further, but just then the medic arrives with a toboggan sled. Charles gently sets you down on the padded plastic. You recline back, trying not to jostle your leg as the medic examines your rapidly swelling knee.

At the lightest touch, you flinch away with a sharp cry. The medic frowns. “Possibile lesione al legamento crociato anteriore. Abbiamo bisogno di portarla in ospedale,” he says grimly.

Charles squeezes your hand, face pale. “He thinks you may have torn your ACL. They need to take you to the hospital.”

You blink back panicked tears. You’ve always been prone to clumsiness, but nothing this severe. As the medic gestures ski patrol over to help transport you, the pain throbbing inside your knee seems to mock your brief foray into athleticism. Maybe you just aren’t cut out for winter sports after all.

Charles refuses to leave your side during the bumpy toboggan ride down the mountain. At the base, an ambulance is waiting to take you to the nearest hospital. While the paramedics work swiftly to transfer you into the back, Charles cradles your hand, looking utterly distraught.

“I never should have let this happen,” he berates himself again. “What was I thinking taking an inexperienced skier down that slope?”

Despite your pain-induced haze, you glare sternly at him. “Charles, stop. This isn’t your fault, it’s mine for losing control. Please don’t blame yourself, you’ll make me feel even worse.”

Charles still looks unconvinced. But he forces a tight smile, brushing hair back from your face. “I’m sorry. I just hate seeing you in pain. Let’s just focus on getting you fixed up. The doctors will know how to help.”

You nod, trying not to let panic overwhelm you. As the ambulance wails toward the hospital, Charles keeps his gaze locked comfortingly on yours.

Once there, nurses whisk you immediately in for x-rays and MRIs. Charles paces the waiting room, refusing offers from his friends to bring him food or drinks. When the doctor finally emerges, Charles springs forward anxiously. “How is she?”

The doctor’s solemn expression says it all. “Your girlfriend has sustained a complete ACL rupture. She will require reconstructive surgery as soon as possible to repair it.”

Charles sags back against the wall, color draining from his face. You fight back tears as the doctor explains your diagnosis — one of the worst knee injuries possible. It will require months of intensive rehab even after the surgery.

When the doctor leaves, Charles returns to sit by your side from where he was pacing back and forth. The pain in your knee has settled into a pervasive throbbing. At the sight of your obvious anguish, Charles’ stoic facade finally crumbles.

“I’m so sorry,” he chokes out, rushing to your side. “This is all my fault.”

You grab his hand fiercely, despite the IV of painkillers tugging at your skin. “Charles, stop. I already told you not to blame yourself. It was an accident.”

“An accident I caused by pressuring you to ski,” Charles argues miserably.

You level your most stern glare at him. ��Charles Leclerc, you listen to me. I chose to try skiing. Me. Not you.” Your voice softens. “So please stop tormenting yourself over this. It kills me to see you like this.”

Charles searches your face silently for a long moment. Finally he nods, exhaling shakily. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He gently brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “I just hate that you’re hurt. But no more blaming myself, I promise.”

You smile weakly. “Good. Now come here.” Charles leans down and you tug him into a fierce kiss, trying to convey without words that you don’t hold him responsible.

When you pull back, Charles looks significantly less tormented. He caresses your cheek tenderly. “I’ll take care of you, I swear. You’ll get the best care possible and recover even stronger than before.”

You try for a teasing smile. “Guess you’ll have to find a new ski bunny next season.”

Charles shakes his head. “Never. No one could ever replace you.” His voice drops earnestly. “I don’t care if you never ski again, I just want you healthy and happy.”

Before you can reply, the doctor returns with consent forms for surgery. When he mentions performing the operation here, Charles’ brow furrows.

“No, she needs the best surgeon possible for this injury,” he argues. Turning to you, he adds, “I know a specialist at a private clinic in Austria. It’s where all the elite skiers go. I’ll fly us there tonight.”

Your eyes widen at the suggestion, but you know better than to argue once Charles is in protective mode. You have a feeling you’re about to receive world-class medical treatment fit for an Olympian.

Sure enough, Charles arranges for emergency transport to the prestigious clinic. On the flight, he sits vigilantly by your side, holding your hand through every painful bump of turbulence. By the time you’re admitted to the glamorous facility, you’re touched, but not surprised by the lengths he’s gone to in order to help you.

The surgeon Charles selected, Dr. Braun, inspires immediate confidence with his warm bedside manner and decorated credentials. After thoroughly examining your knee, he determines you are indeed a candidate for ACL reconstruction.

Charles listens intently as Dr. Braun explains the procedure, involving grafting tissue to replace your ruptured ligament. Though you try to follow along, exhaustion and pain medication make it hard to focus. All you can register is Charles rubbing your shoulder and reassuring you that Dr. Braun is the best there is. You trust Charles completely, so his confidence in this surgeon is enough.

Too soon, nurses arrive to prep you for surgery. As they wheel your gurney toward the operating room, Charles walks alongside, face etched with worry. He leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll be right here when you wake up,” he promises. “I love you so much.”

You cling to his hand for as long as possible before the nurses firmly insist he can’t go any further. As the operating room doors swing shut between you, separating you from Charles, your heart clenches anxiously. But Dr. Braun smiles kindly down at you, patting your arm.

“Not to worry, we’ll have that knee fixed up nicely,” he says. “When you wake, you’ll be on the road to recovery.”

As the anesthesia mask descends and your vision fades to black, you cling to the doctor’s reassuring words. Maybe there’s still hope for a somewhat happy ending to this disastrous ski trip after all.

***

As you blearily open your eyes, the first thing you see is Charles’ worried face hovering over you. The moment he notices you stirring, his expression floods with relief.

“Thank god,” he breathes, grasping your hand tightly. “How are you feeling?”

You blink slowly, trying to clear the hazy fog of anesthesia from your brain. “Okay I think.” Your voice comes out scratchy. You glance down at the heavy brace immobilizing your knee and the events leading up to surgery come rushing back. “Did it … go alright?”

Charles smoothes your hair back gently. “Everything went perfectly. Dr. Braun said it was a very successful surgery.”

You exhale, tension easing from your shoulders. With the capable doctor and Charles by your side, you’ve made it through the first step.

Right on cue, Dr. Braun enters, smiling when he sees you awake. “Wonderful, you’re up. How is our patient feeling?”

“A little groggy, but not too much pain yet,” you report.

“Excellent. The pain medication should be keeping you comfortable.” Dr. Braun moves to your bedside, examining your knee closely. “Everything continues to look promising in recovery. You’ll need to take it very easy for the next few weeks to protect the graft while it heals. But if all goes smoothly, you’ll be back on your feet before you know it.”

You nod, stomach swooping anxiously at the thought of the long recovery ahead. Noticing your nervous expression, Charles gives your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Whatever she needs, we’ll make sure she has the best care and recovers properly,” he tells Dr. Braun seriously.

The doctor smiles. “Her rehabilitation will be the most crucial part. I work closely with a wonderful physical therapist, Elisa, who specializes in ACL reconstruction recovery. I highly recommend continuing your physio with her once you return home.”

Your eyes widen, not having considered that aspect yet. But Charles nods without hesitation. “Just tell us where she’s located and I’ll arrange for her to fly out to stay with us as long as needed. Money is no object.”

“Whoa, wait a minute,” you interject, head still fuzzy but fairly certain booking a private international physiotherapist is overkill. “That’s incredibly generous, but I’m sure I can find someone local-”

Charles silences you with a stern look. “Not a chance. Dr. Braun said this Elisa is the best. I won’t risk your recovery with anything less.” Turning back to the doctor, he adds, “Just say the word and I’ll have a plane and a place to stay waiting for her.”

You sigh, but can’t help feeling touched at the lengths Charles will go to help you heal. Dr. Braun seems equally unfazed by the bold offer — clearly Charles’ wealth affords certain privileges in care.

“I’ll speak to Elisa immediately and make the arrangements then,” Dr. Braun confirms. “With around the clock support from both her and myself, I’m confident you’ll recover wonderfully.” He gives your other knee an encouraging pat.

Over the next few days in the upscale hospital, you begin to adjust to the restrictive new reality of your injury. While your knee remains heavily braced and immobilized, the rest of your body seems to ache from compensating. But true to his word, Charles sticks to your bedside attentively, keeping you distracted with games and books during the long inactive hours.

When Dr. Braun finally clears you for discharge, you’re armed with piles of post-op instructions, crutches, and medications. As Charles helps you hobble out of the hospital lobby, you eye the crutches nervously.

“I’m not sure I can manage these things along with the brace,” you admit. The awkward metal sticks feel precarious beneath your arms.

Charles frowns, glancing between you and the crutches uncertainly. Then in one swift motion he sweeps you up into his arms instead.

You yelp in surprise, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Charles! What are you doing?”

“Carrying you, obviously,” he states, as if this were the most natural solution in the world. When you open your mouth to protest, he silences you with a look. “The doctor said to stay completely off your leg if possible. So no walking for you until it’s healed.”

You know better than to argue with Charles in protective caretaker mode. So you simply chuckle, shaking your head in amusement, and let him carry you like a princess out to the idling car.

At the airport, he again insists on keeping you cradled securely in his arms the entire walk out to the waiting private jet. Normally you’d feel self-conscious being lugged around like this in front of staff. But the utter tenderness in Charles’ hold makes you feel nothing but safe.

Once settled on the plush leather seat, Charles hurriedly arranges pillows under your braced leg. “Here, keep it elevated like Dr. Braun said. Do you need more pain meds? Let me grab you an ice pack ...”

He fusses attentively until you’re thoroughly bundled up with your knee raised and iced. Only once he’s certain you have everything required for the flight does Charles take his own seat, lacing his fingers through yours.

“Get some rest if you can,” he says gently. “I’ll wake you when we land to carry you home.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling. “My knight in shining armor.” Leaning your head on his shoulder, you nuzzle into his warmth. The steady rumble of the engines is soothing, and despite your lingering aches, you feel yourself beginning to drift off.

Throughout the flight, Charles continues diligently caring for you. He helps you hobble to the restroom with assistance. He ensures you take your next round of medications on schedule. When the flight attendant delivers meals, Charles only picks at his own, too focused on making sure you actually eat to remember his food.

You’re simultaneously touched and exasperated by his hyper-vigilance. But you know it comes from a place of love and residual guilt, so you endure his constant fussing without complaint. If doting on you helps absolve his conscience, then so be it.

By the time the jet begins its descent toward Nice, your eyelids are drooping heavily. Charles lifts the window shade, sunlight streaming over your face. “Almost home,” he says with a tender smile.

You blink groggily, glancing down to make sure your knee is still properly supported. Reassured that Charles hasn’t forgotten a single detail of your care, you nestle back against his chest contentedly.

As the jet coasts down the runway, Charles cradles you close, placing a kiss atop your head. “Get some rest, mon amour. I’ll carry you out and get you settled back home.”

His quiet promise fills you with cozy warmth despite the lingering chill from your ice pack. You let your heavy eyelids fall shut, lulled by the steady thump of Charles’ heart.

Tomorrow your intensive recovery begins. But tonight, safely encircled in your love’s arms thousands of feet in the air, you feel confident you have the strength to face whatever lies ahead.

***

When you wake a few weeks later, pale morning light is just beginning to creep across the blankets. Blearily, you glance over to see Charles already awake beside you, brow furrowed as he stares up at the ceiling.

“You’re up early,” you murmur sleepily. “Everything okay?”

Charles startles slightly, as if pulled from deep thought. He forces a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Of course, just thinking about some things.”

You prop yourself up on one elbow, scrutinizing him in concern. His evasive tone is uncharacteristic. “What’s going on? And don’t say nothing, I can tell something’s bothering you.”

Charles holds your gaze silently for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh. “It’s nothing, really. I’ve just been thinking about the start of the season coming up so soon.”

Your brow furrows. The opening race in Bahrain is only two weeks away. As the realization hits, your heart sinks. With your still-mending knee, it will be a lot harder to keep up with Charles globetrotting to races worldwide. For the past two seasons of your relationship, you’ve attended every race possible together. The thought of that no longer being the case feels daunting.

“Oh,” you say quietly. “I guess I hadn’t thought that far ahead yet.”

Charles’ expression is conflicted. He gently takes your hand, “I just hate the idea of leaving you here alone when you’re still recovering. It doesn’t feel right being apart.”

You force an optimistic smile. “Hey, don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself and Elisa will still be here for physical therapy. I’ll be okay.”

But your reassurance doesn’t seem to ease Charles’ frown. “I know, I’m just worried about you re-injuring yourself with no one here. I can get my mother to check on you too ...”

As he spirals back into restless thoughts, you squeeze his hand firmly. “Charles, stop. I’ll be fine, I promise. This isn’t my first time on my own, remember?”

Charles grimaces. “I know, but you’re hurt now. I just hate leaving you when you’re still recovering. If something happened while I was gone ...” He trails off, looking stricken.

Your heart swells at his protectiveness. But you won’t let him torment himself with hypotheticals. Sitting up fully, you level Charles with your most stubborn expression.

“Well then, it’s a good thing you won’t be leaving me here for long, because I’m coming with you just like always.”

Charles gapes. “What? No, you’re injured, there’s no way-”

“Uh uh,” you interrupt firmly. “I’ve been to every race I could since we got together, and I’m not about to miss one now over a bum knee. I’ll agree to skip pre-season testing but then I’m going to Bahrain no matter what.”

Charles' mouth opens and closes wordlessly before he finally manages to argue, “But how will you manage airports and flights and crowded paddocks? You’re still on crutches!”

You wave a hand dismissively. “So I’ll hobble around the paddock looking pathetic, big deal. Better than moping here alone.” Crossing your arms, you fix Charles with your most unyielding stare. “Face it, you’re stuck with me.”

Charles searches your determined expression, clearly trying to formulate another protest. But he knows you too well, can recognize when your mind is made up. With a resigned chuckle, he pulls you against his chest.

“You are the stubbornest person ever, you know that?” He kisses the top of your head, a smile in his voice. “But I really shouldn’t be surprised. Nothing can stop you from being there to cheer me on.”

You grin, basking happily in his embrace. “Damn right. You should know by now that I’m going to be by your side every race, no matter what.”

Charles just shakes his head in amused exasperation, arms tightening around you. “Well in that case, it seems I have some calls to make to arrange for your care in the paddock.”

You kiss his jaw tenderly. “See? Problem solved.” Settling back against the pillows, you add teasingly, “Now stop stressing and let me sleep a little more. Unlike you, I need my beauty rest.”

Charles barks out a laugh, the last tension fading from his frame. As you drift back into cozy slumber cradled against his chest, his steady breathing lulls you like a soothing melody.

Later that morning, it’s time for your daily physical therapy session in the makeshift rehab space set up in your apartment. Elisa guides you through gentle range of motion and strengthening exercises, keeping up cheerful encouragement. The work is grueling, but Elisa’s optimism inspires you to push through the discomfort.

You’ve just finished up with an ice break when hushed voices drift in from the adjacent room. Craning your neck, you glimpse Charles sitting at the kitchen island, phone to his ear as he rifles through an open notebook. Though you can’t make out his full conversation, you catch snippets.

“Need to make sure she has somewhere to rest comfortably ...”

“Don’t want her trying to walk too far ...”

“She says she’ll be fine, but I need to be sure ...”

You muffle a laugh into your hand. Of course Charles is already contacting Ferrari about you joining him in Bahrain, planning every detail to accommodate your injury. Elisa raises a questioning eyebrow but you just shake your head with a smile. Charles’ protectiveness never fails to make your heart melt.

Oblivious to your eavesdropping, Charles continues speaking in a hushed but urgent tone. You can visualize his serious expression pinched with concern, wanting to arrange every detail to ensure your comfort during race weekends.

It’s hopeless trying to curb his caring instincts. So you simply shake your head in amusement and turn back to your exercises, resolved not to override the plans you’re clearly not meant to hear.

After your session concludes, Elisa helps you prop up your leg to ice before gathering her things. “You’re making great progress,” she encourages. “Keep it up and you’ll be back to normal before you know it.”

You smile through your fatigue. “Thanks for everything. See you tomorrow?”

Elisa nods, waving farewell as she heads out. Once she’s gone, you eye your crutches propped nearby. Normally you’d use them to hobble around, but mischief sparks inside you. This seems like the perfect time to test your boyfriend’s hovering instincts.

Bracing yourself on the workout table, you carefully rise to your feet, keeping all weight on your good leg. The short hobble to the living room leaves you breathless, but triumphant.

Rounding the corner, you spot Charles sitting on the couch reviewing emails on his tablet. Before he notices your approach, you boldly flop down to sprawl across his lap.

Charles yelps in surprise, tablet clattering away as his arms reflexively cradle you. “What are you doing walking around alone? Where are your crutches?”

You grin up at him impishly. “Must have forgotten them back there. But I managed okay for a short distance.”

Charles gapes, torn between horror at your recklessness and awe at your determination. You take advantage of his stunned silence to wrap your arms around his neck and tug him down into a kiss.

“Have I mentioned how amazing and caring you are?” You murmur when you finally separate for air. “Taking care of me even when you think I don’t notice?”

Understanding flashes across Charles’ face and his cheeks tint pink. “You heard that phone call earlier, didn’t you?” At your smug grin he groans. “I should have known I couldn’t get anything past you.”

You laugh, nuzzling your nose against his. “It was very sweet. But you really don’t need to go through so much trouble for me.”

Charles’ eyes lock earnestly on yours. “It’s no trouble at all. I want to make sure your needs are taken care of so you can be comfortable and safe.” He brushes your hair back gently. “I hate the thought of you struggling while supporting me at races.”

Your playful expression softens. You take his hand, intertwining your fingers against your heart. “Do whatever you have to do so that you can focus on driving your best without worrying about me. I’m a big girl, I can handle a few weeks of long flights and sitting in the back of your garage instead of standing. As long as I’m cheering for you, I’ll be happy.”

Charles searches your face, as if committing every detail to memory. “I don’t deserve you,” he says finally, voice husky.

You smile, squeezing his hand. “Sure you do. We take care of each other. It’s what partners do.”

Charles’s eyes shimmer with emotion. He cradles your jaw, kissing you deeply. When he draws back, the anxious creases in his face have smoothed away, leaving only tenderness.

“I promise I’ll do my best not to worry,” he concedes. “Just promise you won’t push yourself too hard.”

“Deal,” you agree easily, then smirk. “Now, how about carrying me back to the crutches you claim I so desperately need?”

Charles laughs, once again sweeping you effortlessly into his arms. You cling to his shoulders, perfectly content to let him fuss over you just a little longer.

***

“We should all go skiing together!”

Pierre’s enthusiastic suggestion makes you freeze mid-bite, forkful of pasta suspended comically halfway to your open mouth. Across the table, Charles goes completely still, face draining of color.

Oblivious to your boyfriend’s reaction, Pierre barrels on with growing excitement. “There are some amazing resorts in the Alps we could visit over New Year’s. Epic mountains, fresh powder-”

“No!” Charles interjects forcefully. He looks mildly ill at just the thought. “Absolutely not happening.”

Pierre blinks in surprise at the vehement refusal. Even his girlfriend, Kika, appears confused by Charles’ sudden change in demeanor. You have to press your lips together to keep from laughing at their bemused expressions.

“But why?” Pierre asks, brow furrowed. “I thought you loved skiing.”

Charles shudders. “Not anymore. Not after ...” He trails off, eyes darting to you meaningfully.

Understanding dawns on Pierre’s face. “Oh! Right, of course.” He smiles apologetically. “Sorry, I didn’t think-”

You wave a hand, unable to contain your amusement any longer. “It’s okay, Pierre. I know you didn’t mean to bring up traumatic memories.” You cast a teasing glance at Charles. “But I think skiing might permanently be off the table for us.”

Charles nods emphatically. “Absolutely. Never again. From now on, we take beach vacations only. Somewhere warm, with no snow, mountains, or treacherous icy slopes.” He shudders again for effect.

By now, you’re laughing so hard you have to set down your water glass to avoid spilling it. You knew Charles was still sensitive about the topic of skiing, but you hadn’t anticipated him having such an extreme reaction tonight. His overprotective dramatics are too adorable.

Still chuckling, you lean over to smack a kiss on his cheek. “You’re being ridiculous, but it’s very sweet that you’re so traumatized on my behalf.”

Charles wraps an arm around you, some tension easing from his shoulders. “After what you went through, can you blame me for swearing off anything to do with skiing forever?” He shakes his head vehemently. “Never again. It was the most terrifying experience. I thought I might have permanently damaged the love of my life.”

Your heart melts. “I’m completely fine now, thanks to you. But I can understand preferring to avoid ski trips in the future.” You smile teasingly. “We can find a nice beach to lounge on instead.”

Pierre chuckles. “Yeah, that’s probably smarter. Sorry for bringing up bad memories.” He smiles sheepishly across the table. “A tropical vacation does sound nice though!”

The group dissolves into easy laughter, the awkwardness forgotten. The conversation meanders to warmer destinations and the approaching off-season. Charles eventually relaxes his grip on you, seeming reassured that skiing is off the table.

You make it through the rest of the amicable double date without incident. As you all exit the restaurant into the cool night air, Pierre turns to you and Charles apologetically.

“Really sorry again for that ski trip suggestion earlier. Definitely wasn’t thinking.”

You wave off his concerns with an easy smile. “Don’t worry about it! No harm done.” You pause, then add impishly, “Though from now on, Charles may vet all vacation plans just to be safe.”

Charles nods, face comically serious. “It’s true. I take your physical safety very seriously now.” His grave expression cracks into a grin. “So expect lots of beach vacations in our future together!”

Everyone dissolve into laughter again. After final farewell hugs, you and Charles head to your car, his arm wrapped securely around your shoulders.

Once home, Charles tucks you into bed with an amount of care bordering on reverence. As he curls up behind you, you lace your fingers through his against your heart.

“Have I told you lately how amazing you are?” You murmur into the darkness.

You feel Charles smile against your hair. “Maybe, but feel free to say it again.”

You snuggle deeper into his embrace. “You’re pretty much the best boyfriend on the planet. I love how protective you are over me, even when it’s a bit dramatic. It just shows how much you care.”

Charles presses a kiss to the top of your spine. “Of course I care. You mean everything to me.” His voice drops lower. “I never want to be the reason you get hurt again.”

You roll over to face him, gently cradling his jaw. “You could never hurt me. What happened was an accident, and I recovered just fine. So no more feeling guilty, okay?”

Even in the dim light you can see the sincerity in Charles’ eyes as he searches your face. “You really are too good for me,” he murmurs. “I’ll try to stop feeling overly responsible. Though I make no promises on vetoing future ski trip suggestions,” he adds with a teasing grin.

You laugh, snuggling happily against his chest. “Now get some sleep.”

As his breaths deepen into slumber, you reflect on how lucky you are to have found someone so devotedly caring. With Charles’ fiercely protective presence heating the sheets beside you, the future — filled with sandy beaches rather than ski slopes — looks bright indeed.

[rootedinrevisions]

Snowed In With You

SUMMARY: You and Glen spend a cozy weekend together at a cozy mountain where you get the rare chance to slow down and reconnect. With nothing but each other, Glen's dog Brisktet, and the warmth of the fire to keep you company, the weekend becomes a beautiful escape from the world.

A/N: This is the first of a few holiday fics that I have planned or in the works! Please let me know what you guys think with hearts, reblogs, and comments! I love getting feedback from you guys!

WARNINGS: None. Just fluff.

WORD COUNT: 5.6k

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell: Himself (RPF), Characters He's Played

Twisters: Tyler Owens, Boone, Scott, Javi

Top Gun: Maverick: Rooster, Hangman, Bob

Marvel/MCU: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

WWE/Wrestling: Cody Rhodes, Corey Graves, Damian Priest, Drew McIntyre, Finn Balor, Jimmy Uso, Jey Uso, Kevin Owens, L.A. Knight, Pat McAfee, Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins (if there is someone you're thinking of from WWE and they aren't on the list feel free to ask! There are so many guys on the roster that these were the ones that came to mind.)

Snowflakes swirl in the crisp mountain air as your car crunches up the gravel driveway to the cabin Glen has rented for the weekend. You barely have time to put the car in park before the front door creaks open, and Glen steps outside, a grin stretching across his face. Brisket bounds down the steps, tail wagging furiously as he makes a beeline for you.

“Brisket!” You laugh, bending down just as he leaps up, his paws landing on your thighs. His warm tongue darts out to give your cheeks a wet greeting, and you scratch behind his ears with both hands, his soft fur a welcome comfort against the chilly air.

Behind him, Glen strolls towards you. He’s got a hoodie on that’s slightly wrinkled, and his jeans hang just right, as the little bits of snow catch in his slightly messy hair. His smile widens as you stand up and he pulls you into a tight bear hug, lifting you off the ground just enough to make you laugh.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he murmurs into your hair, his voice low and full of emotion.

You start to answer as Glen sets you back down, but Brisket, not one to be ignored, nudges his way between the two of you, his wet nose pressing insistently against your hand as he stands on his back legs to reach.

Glen chuckles, leaning down and scratching Brisket behind the ears. “Okay, okay, but I get her first, bud.” His voice is playful, but there’s an undertone of something else–longing maybe, that makes your heart flutter.

He looks down at you and leans in, his lips brushing against yours softly at first, as if savoring the moment. The kiss deepens, and you feel the tension of the past month and a half melting away. Being apart for so long while he was filming in London had left an ache you didn’t realize was so deep until now.

Brisket’s sharp bark cuts through the moment, his impatience impossible to ignore. Glen pulls back, his forehead resting against yours as he laughs, his breath warm against your skin.

“Guess someone’s feeling left out,” he says with a smirk, stepping back and gesturing toward Brisket, who’s now wagging his tail so hard his entire body wiggles. “Better give him some love before he starts a full-on protest.”

You kneel back down to give Brisket the attention he’s clearly been craving, rubbing his belly as he flops onto his back.

Meanwhile, Glen moves to the back of your car, popping the trunk to grab your bags. He pauses, eyebrows lifting as he surveys the number of bags you brought. “You know we’re only here for two days, right?” He teases, pulling out your suitcase and then throwing your weekender bag over his shoulder. 

You stand, brushing snow off your knees, and flash him a mock glare. “I like to be prepared!”

“For what? A week-long expedition?” he jokes, slinging one bag over his shoulder while hoisting the other in his hand.

“Very funny,” you retort, walking over to him to try to take the smaller bag from him. “I wasn’t sure what the plan was or if we’d be doing anything fancy. So I brought different outfits just in case.”

“Fancy?” Glen repeats, looking around dramatically as if searching for a five-star restaurant in the middle of the mountains. “I hate to break it to you, but there’s nothing fancy out here.”

You laugh, swatting his arm as he leads the way up the cabin steps, Brisket bounding ahead to push the door open with his nose. Warmth immediately greets you as you step inside, the crackling of the fire warming the space. The smell of cedar and something faintly sweet lingers in the air, and you sigh, already feeling relaxed.

Glen sets your bags down by the couch, turning to you with that signature mischievous smile that makes your heart skip a beat. “Welcome to our little getaway. Now are you ready to relax and let me spoil you for the next two days?”

You grin, taking in the cozy space–the twinkling string lights, the oversized plaid blankets draped across the couch, and the promise of uninterrupted time with Glen. “Only if you let me spoil you right back.”

“Deal,” he says, leaning in for another kiss, his arms wrapping around you like he never wants to let go.

The moment stretches between you, the cabin’s cozy warmth wrapping around you like a blanket. Glen doesn’t let go, his hands resting gently on your waist as he looks down at you. You feel the world outside fade into nothingness–no schedules, no interviews, no appearances,  no planes to catch, no distance between you.

He breaks the silence with a quiet chuckle, brushing a stray strand of hair from your cheek. “Come on,” he says, his voice a low murmur as he gently takes your hand. “Let’s get comfortable.”

You let him guide you to the couch, his hand warm and steady in yours. The cushions are soft, layered with thick plaid blankets and pillows that practically beg you to sink into them. Glen sits down first, leaning back and looking completely at ease in the glow of the firelight. 

Then, with a playful tug of your hand, he pulls you down with him, his arms encircling you like they were always meant to.

“Much better,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nestle against him, his hoodie soft beneath your cheek and his heartbeat steady against your ear. One hand rubs soothing circles on your back, while the other tangles gently in your hair, his fingers trailing through the strands as though he’s memorizing every detail of you all over again.

The fire crackles softly in the hearth, its golden glow casting flickering patterns across the walls. Outside, the snow continues to fall, silent and relentless, blanketing the world in quiet serenity. The warmth of the fire contrasts with the chill you’d felt stepping out of the car moments earlier, making you sink deeper into Glen’s embrace.

The smell of pine lingers faintly in the room, mingling with the faint musk of Glen’s cologne—a scent you hadn’t realized you’d missed so much until now. It’s grounding, familiar, and comforting, pulling you even further into this moment.

He shifts slightly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before resting his cheek there. “I still can’t believe you’re actually here,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve been counting down the days.”

You tilt your head up to meet his gaze, your hand coming up to rest against his chest. “Me too,” you admit softly. “It’s been too long.”

He smiles, a small, private thing meant just for you. “Well,” he says, tightening his arms around you, “we’ve got a lot of time to make up for, and I don’t plan on wasting a single second of it.”

You close your eyes, letting yourself sink into the warmth of him, the sound of the fire, and the stillness of the moment. For the first time in weeks, it feels like you can finally breathe again.

“So,” you say, breaking the quiet with a soft nudge. “Tell me everything about London. How’s filming going?”

Glen exhales, his smile lighting up as he starts to talk. “It’s been amazing, honestly. The city, the crew, the whole experience–it’s been one of the best projects I’ve worked on in awhile. The story’s incredible, and I can’t wait for you to see it. I think you’re going to love it.”

“I bet I will,” you say, looking up at him. “I’m always proud of you, Glen, but I love seeing how excited you are about this one.”

He grins, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “It’s good, but man, it’s been a grind. Long days, a lot of pressure, you know? But that’s just part of it.”

“I’m sure it will all be worth it,” you reply, your voice full of conviction. “You always give it your all, and it shows.”

The conversation shifts naturally, and soon, he’s asking about you–how life’s been while he’s been away. You fill him in on the little things: the funny story about your new neighbor, a new hobby you’ve been trying, and how work has been busier than usual.

“And,” you add, a touch of pride in your voice, “I got that promotion I was telling you about.”

His face lights up, his grin wide and genuine. “Babe, that’s amazing! Why didn’t you lead with that?”

You laugh, shrugging. “I guess I wanted to hear about London first. But yeah, it’s a lot more responsibility, which is a little scary, but exciting too.”

“You’re going to crush it. I know you will,” he says. He pulls you closer, kissing the side of your head. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

The conversation drifts back and forth, light and easy, until Glen’s tone shifts ever so slightly. He leans his head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling for a moment before speaking.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m always…on,” he admits quietly. “Like, I have to be the fun guy, the charming guy, the one who’s always ready to take a picture, sign something, or do an interview. It’s not that I don’t love what I do, because I do. But…sometimes it’s a lot, you know?”

You sit up a little, turning to look at him. “Glen-”

He shakes his head, offering you a small smile. “Being with you, though–it’s different. I don’t have to be anyone but me. You make it easy to just…breathe. I can just be me.”

The honesty in his words tugs at something inside you, and you find yourself confessing things you’ve kept tucked away. 

“I get that,” you say softly. “I mean, not the same way you do, but…sometimes I feel like I’m not enough, being with someone like you. Like, I see how the world sees you, and I can’t help but wonder if when we do start telling people about us if I’ll be able to measure up to all that.”

His brows knit together, his hand coming up to cradle your cheek.

“Hey,” he says gently, his thumb brushing against your skin. “Don’t say that. You don’t have to be anything other than you for me to love you. Do you know that?”

You nod, your throat tight with emotion.

“I mean it,” he continues, his voice steady. “You’re the person I want to come back to, the one who makes all the noise in my head fade. I don’t care about anything else as long as I have you.”

Tears prick at your eyes, and you blink them away as his thumb catches one that escapes. The moment lingers, until he leans in, his lips brushing against yours. The kiss is slow and lingering, a quiet reassurance in the way his hand stays on your cheek, grounding you.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and the softest smile plays on his lips. “You’re everything to me,” he murmurs. “Don’t ever forget that.”

You nod again, unable to find the words, and instead, you kiss him, pouring everything you feel into that single, tender moment. The world outside fades again, leaving only the warmth of the fire and the steady presence of the mean holding you like you’re the only thing that matters.

Glen's laughter fills the room as your stomach lets out an unmistakable growl. He presses a playful kiss to your temple before standing and stretching. “Alright, let’s fix that. I can’t have you starving on my watch.”

You smile as he heads into the small kitchen, the sound of cabinets opening and pans clinking filling the cozy cabin.

You follow him, leaning against the doorway. “You’ve been working nonstop for weeks. Maybe I should cook for you for a change.”

Glen turns around, eyebrow raised. “You? Cook for me? You’re supposed to be relaxing this weekend, baby.”

“And you’re supposed to be relaxing too, Mr. Leading Man,” you counter, stepping into the kitchen and gently nudging him aside. “Come on, let me spoil you a little.”

He folds his arms, giving you an exaggerated skeptical look. “Spoil me, huh? You sure I’ll be okay eating your cooking?”

“Oh, hush,” you say, laughing. “I’m perfectly capable of feeding us. And besides, who says we can’t cook together?”

Glen’s grin softens into something warmer. “Alright,” he concedes, holding up his hands in surrender. “Cooking together it is. But I’m in charge of the playlist.”

“Deal,” you say, grabbing an apron from a hook on the wall.

As Glen connects his phone to the cabin’s Bluetooth speaker, the kitchen fills with the smooth croon of a soulful Christmas song. You both fall into a natural rhythm, chopping vegetables and seasoning ingredients while the cozy warmth of the cabin wraps around you.

At one point, you can’t resist sneaking a spoonful of sauce to taste. Glen catches you mid-act, his hand resting on his hip.

“You’re gonna eat half of this before it even makes it to the plate,” Glen teases.

You grin, shrugging as you savor the taste. “Quality control. Someone has to make sure it’s good.”

“It’s unhygienic,” he chides, though the twinkle in his eye betrays him.

“Oh, please,” you shoot back, leaning against the counter with a grin. “I’m not too worried about spreading germs with you. Not after the way we kiss.”

Glen laughs, shaking his head as he stirs the sauce. “Fair point,” he concedes, his lips quirking into a smile.

The kitchen is cozy but compact, and as you move around, you inevitably bump into each other. One such moment has you accidentally backing into Glen while reaching for a spice jar. His hands instinctively catch your waist to steady you.

“Careful,” he says softly, his voice laced with amusement. His hands linger, warm and steady, as his gaze flicks down to meet yours.

“Sorry,” you murmur, your cheeks flushing as the moment stretches just a second longer than expected.

He grins, his thumbs brushing gently against your sides before letting go. “I don’t mind,” he says, his tone low and teasing.

You clear your throat, trying to shake off the butterflies suddenly fluttering in your stomach and turn back to the counter. 

By the time dinner is ready, the cabin smells like garlic, tomatoes, and the faint sweetness of basil. Glen sets the table while you plate the food, and when you both sit down to eat, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

Dinner passes in a warm haze of laughter and conversation. You and Glen share stories, the clink of silverware against plates blending with the crackle of the fire. The pasta you made together turns out delicious—though Glen insists it’s because of his sauce, and you playfully argue that your perfectly chopped vegetables were the real hero. Brisket stays close, hoping for scraps, and earns a bite of garlic-free bread when Glen gives in to his pleading eyes.

After clearing the table and stacking dishes in the sink—"They can wait until tomorrow," Glen declares—you both migrate to the couch. Glen pulls a blanket off the armrest and drapes it over you as you settle in with mugs of hot cocoa, the sweetness of marshmallows melting into the creamy warmth. Brisket curls up at your feet, his soft snores the only sound aside from the faint hiss of wind outside.

Glen leans back, stretching an arm across the back of the couch as he takes a sip of his drink. “Hey, would you mind if I looked over a script real quick?” he asks, his voice soft, almost hesitant. “The director wants to know by next week if I’m interested, and I’ve been meaning to give it a read.”

“Of course, go ahead,” you reply with a smile. “I brought a book anyway.”

He presses a quick kiss to your forehead before grabbing the script from his bag near the fireplace. You retrieve your book from the coffee table and settle back into the couch, tucking yourself under the blanket as Glen takes a seat beside you.

Without a word, you drape your legs over his lap, and he shifts slightly to make room for you, resting one hand on your shin as he flips through the pages of the script with the other. The firelight dances across his face, highlighting the subtle curve of his jaw and the faint concentration in his eyes.

The moment is quiet but comfortable, the kind of peaceful intimacy that comes from truly knowing each other. The rhythmic scratch of Brisket’s paws against the blanket as he shifts in his sleep and the occasional turn of a page are the only sounds.

At one point, Glen glances over, his lips quirking into a small smile when he catches you sneaking a look at him instead of reading. “What?” he asks, his voice low and warm.

“Nothing,” you say, fighting a grin as you look back at your book.

“Uh-huh,” he teases, giving your calf a light squeeze before returning to his script.

The hours melt away in the warmth of the cabin, the storm outside a distant hum against the sturdy walls. It’s not about what either of you is doing; it’s about being here, together, in this moment, where everything feels perfectly right.

As the hours pass, the fire in the hearth settles into glowing embers, casting soft, flickering shadows across the room. Glen turns the last page of the script, his brow furrowed in thought. He leans forward to set the stack of papers on the coffee table, grabs his phone, and types out a quick text to the director. His message is short but enthusiastic, praising the script and confirming he’s interested in the role.

Satisfied, Glen sets his phone aside and stretches, his muscles shifting under the soft cotton of his hoodie. When he turns to suggest heading to bed, he freezes, his gaze landing on you.

You’ve fallen asleep, your head resting against the armrest, your book lying open on your chest. The faint rise and fall of your breathing is the only movement, and a lock of hair has fallen across your face. Glen feels a tug at his chest as he takes in the peaceful expression on your face, the way the firelight catches on your skin.

He stands and pads over to you, careful not to wake you. Gently, he takes the book from your chest, marking your place before setting it on the coffee table. Then he leans down and slides an arm under your knees and another behind your back, lifting you effortlessly into his arms.

You stir slightly, murmuring something incoherent, but your head naturally tilts into the curve of his neck. Glen chuckles softly, his breath warm against your hair as he whispers, “Shh, I’ve got you.”

Carrying you into the bedroom, he nudges the door open with his foot and steps inside. The room is dimly lit by the glow of the snow outside, the bed neatly made with thick blankets and soft pillows. Glen carefully lowers you onto the bed, tucking you in and brushing that stray lock of hair behind your ear.

He changes quickly, trading his hoodie and jeans for a pair of flannel pajama pants. The air feels cooler here, away from the fire, but the bed already feels warm and inviting. Glen slides in beside you, careful not to disturb your sleep, and pulls you into his arms.

You instinctively curl into him, your head resting against his chest, your hand finding its way to his side. Glen wraps the blanket snugly around the both of you and lets out a contented sigh, pressing a light kiss to the top of your head.

“Goodnight, baby,” he whispers softly, his voice full of warmth and love.

The storm outside howls faintly, but inside, the world feels perfectly still. Glen closes his eyes, his hand tracing gentle circles on your back as he drifts off, holding you close and savoring the quiet, precious moment.

* * * *

The first thing you notice as you wake is the soft golden light streaming through the windows, illuminating the room in a warm glow. The second is the smell of freshly brewed coffee, rich and inviting, curling its way into the bedroom like a gentle wake-up call.

You stretch lazily under the covers, the bed still cozy from the warmth of the blankets and Glen’s presence last night. Just as you start to fully stir, Glen appears in the doorway, holding a steaming mug. His flannel pajama pants hang low on his hips, and his hair is a mess of soft, disheveled waves from sleep. A lazy, boyish smile spreads across his face as he makes his way over to you.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he says, his voice still gravelly. He hands you the mug, his fingers brushing against yours as you sit up to take it. “Figured I’d let you sleep in a little after you passed out on me last night.”

You smile up at him, taking a careful sip of the coffee. It’s perfect—just the way you like it. “Thanks, Glen. And for the record, that book was really interesting,” you tease, your voice still thick with sleep.

“Mm-hmm,” he replies, leaning down to kiss your forehead before pulling back to look at you.

After a simple breakfast of eggs and toast, Glen suggests taking Brisket out for a walk to enjoy the fresh snow that fell overnight. You eagerly agree, bundling up in layers before heading outside.

The air is crisp and sharp against your cheeks as you step into the snow-dusted woods surrounding the cabin. Brisket bounds ahead, tail wagging as he leaves a trail of paw prints in the untouched snow. The trees are heavy with frost, their branches glinting like crystals in the sunlight.

Glen reaches for your hand, his fingers warm against yours despite the chill. He holds it firmly but gently, giving it a soft squeeze whenever you stumble over a patch of uneven ground. The path winds through the woods, quiet except for the crunch of snow underfoot and the occasional bark from Brisket, who seems to be having the time of his life.

Without warning, something cold and wet splats against your shoulder. You stop in your tracks, turning to find Glen standing a few feet away, a mischievous grin lighting up his face.

“Did you just—”

Before you can finish, he’s already crouching to scoop up another handful of snow. You shriek and duck, dodging the second snowball as it sails past you.

“Oh, you’re gonna regret that,” you say, dropping his hand and gathering snow of your own.

The snowball you throw hits him square in the chest, making him laugh. But when your next one lands down the back of his jacket, he lets out an exaggerated yelp. “Oh, you’re playing dirty now!”

Before you can make a run for it, Glen closes the distance between you in a few long strides. He scoops you up effortlessly, spinning you around in the snow. You’re laughing too hard to protest, your breath visible in the cold air as you cling to his shoulders.

“Say you surrender!” he teases, his own laughter mixing with yours.

“Never!” you manage to gasp between giggles.

Brisket, not wanting to be left out, comes bounding over, barking excitedly and leaping between you two. He jumps up, his paws hitting Glen’s legs as if trying to “help” in the playful battle.

Glen finally sets you back on your feet, both of you breathless and grinning as Brisket dances around you. You lean against him for support, your cheeks flushed from the cold and the exertion.

“Truce?” you offer, still catching your breath.

“Truce,” Glen agrees, pressing a quick kiss to your cold nose before pulling you into a warm hug. Brisket barks again, wagging his tail as if to seal the deal.

Together, the three of you continue down the snowy path, your laughter echoing through the quiet woods as the morning sun rises higher in the sky.

Back at the cabin, the warmth from the fire greets you as you shrug off your layers, brushing the last bits of snow from your coat. Brisket shakes himself off by the door, and Glen ruffles his ears before turning to you.

“Alright,” Glen says, his grin still playful from your snowball fight, “how about some cookies? Nothing says cozy cabin vibes like baking something sweet.”

You agree, rummaging through the kitchen to find the ingredients Glen had picked up earlier. Soon, the counter is covered with bags of flour, sugar, butter, and colorful sprinkles, along with a small tub of frosting. Glen insists on being your “assistant,” though he’s more interested in taste-testing than actually helping.

“Are you sure you measured this right?” he teases, stealing a pinch of cookie dough from the bowl as you mix it.

“Glen, if you keep eating the dough, there won’t be any cookies to bake,” you warn, swatting at his hand.

He smirks but relents, holding his hands up in surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll wait.”

The two of you work together to shape the cookies, laughing as Glen insists on making a few in odd shapes—a heart, a misshapen star, and what he claims is a snowman but looks more like a blob.

Once the cookies are in the oven, Glen grabs the frosting and sprinkles, declaring himself the "official decorator." The first few cookies turn out surprisingly neat, but as he gets more creative, things take a turn for the chaotic. Frosting ends up smeared in uneven patterns, and sprinkles are scattered everywhere—on the counter, on the floor, and even in Glen’s hair.

You can’t stop laughing when you see the “masterpiece” he’s holding up proudly. “Glen, that’s not a snowflake. That’s… I don’t even know what that is!”

“It’s abstract,” he counters, grinning as he picks up another cookie. But in his focus, he doesn’t notice the frosting on his hand until you point it out.

“You’ve got a little something… right there,” you say, trying to keep a straight face while gesturing to his cheek.

Glen swipes at it with his sleeve but misses. “Did I get it?”

“Nope,” you giggle, and before you can offer to help, he dips his finger in the frosting and smears a dab onto your nose.

“Now we’re even,” he says, smirking as you gasp in mock outrage.

“Oh, it’s on!” you say, grabbing a spoonful of frosting and aiming for him. But Glen is quicker, catching your wrist and spinning you into his arms. The spoon clatters onto the counter as you both dissolve into laughter, your breath mingling as you’re suddenly very close.

Glen reaches up, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. His hand lingers, his fingers warm against your cheek as his expression softens. “I love seeing you laugh like that,” he says, his voice quiet but full of sincerity.

The room falls still for a moment, the scent of cookies baking in the oven mingling with the crackle of the fire. You smile up at him, your heart full as he leans in and presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Alright,” he says after a beat, pulling back just enough to look at you, “but seriously, that snowflake cookie was art.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you playfully nudge his chest. “Keep telling yourself that, Powell.”

The scent of freshly baked cookies lingers in the cabin as you and Glen sit together at the kitchen table, admiring your hilariously messy creations. Brisket snores softly on the rug nearby, and the fire crackles in the background, casting a golden glow over the room. You’re mid-bite into a slightly misshapen star cookie when Glen clears his throat, a hint of nervousness in his expression.

“I’ve got something for you,” he says, his lips curving into a smile as he stands and heads toward his suitcase.

You blink in surprise, watching as he unzips a compartment and pulls out a small, neatly wrapped package. He returns to you, holding it behind his back for a moment as his grin widens. “Close your eyes.”

You roll your eyes playfully but oblige, closing them and holding out your hands. You feel the weight of the package as he sets it in your palms.

“Okay, open,” Glen says, and his excitement is almost childlike as he watches you unwrap the gift.

Carefully, you peel back the wrapping paper to reveal a slim envelope. Inside, your breath catches as you pull out two tickets to your dream destination, the one you’ve talked about visiting for years. Your eyes widen as you glance up at him.

“Glen…”

He beams, leaning forward on his elbows. “I’ve already got it booked. Flights, accommodations, everything. And before you ask, yes, I’ve cleared it with my team. No work, no interviews, no appearances. Just us.”

Your heart swells as you look at the tickets again, imagining the two of you exploring a place you’ve only dreamed of. “I can’t believe you did this. You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to,” he interrupts, his tone soft but firm. “I’ve been wanting to take you somewhere special for ages, and this felt perfect.”

You reach across the table, squeezing his hand as a smile tugs at your lips. “Well, now I feel silly for what I got you.”

He tilts his head. “You got me something?”

“It’s nothing compared to this,” you say with a self-conscious laugh, standing up and heading to your bag. You retrieve a small, gift-wrapped box and hand it to him, chewing your bottom lip as he unties the ribbon.

Inside, Glen finds a framed photo of you, him, and Brisket, a candid moment you’d captured on your phone without him realizing. His expression softens as he stares at it, his thumb brushing over the glass.

“I remembered you saying you wanted a picture of the three of us to take with you when you travel,” you explain, your voice quieter now. “So I had two made. One for your wallet and this one, for your trailer or hotel room. You know, if you want to…”

Glen pulls the smaller print from the box, smiling as he takes his wallet from his pocket and carefully slides it into place. “It’s perfect,” he says, his voice warm with sincerity.

You laugh nervously. “It’s really not. I should’ve thought of something bigger or—”

“Hey.” Glen sets the frame down and crosses to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He tilts your chin up with a gentle finger, his gaze locking with yours. “You’re the best gift I’ve ever gotten. I don't need anything but you.”

Your cheeks flush as he leans down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. His arms tighten around you, holding you close as if to emphasize his words.

* * * *

The next morning, light filters through the windows, casting a pale glow over the cabin as you sip your coffee, watching the snow begin to fall more steadily. Glen stands by the door, bundling up in a thick coat and scarf as Brisket circles his feet, tail wagging.

“I’m going to check on the weather and see how bad it is,” Glen says, tugging on his boots.

“Be careful,” you call out, wrapping your hands around the warm mug and glancing out at the swirling snow.

The door closes behind him, and you can hear Brisket barking playfully as they step out into the cold. A few minutes later, Glen returns, covered in snow from head to toe, his cheeks flushed from the cold. He shakes his head like a golden retriever, sending snow flying everywhere, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Well?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as he stomps his boots on the mat.

“Bad news,” he says, brushing the snow from his hair and grinning as he pulls out his phone. “Road closures all over the area. Looks like we won’t be leaving for a little while.” He holds up his phone to show you the alert, his grin widening. “Guess you’re stuck with me.”

You roll your eyes playfully, setting your mug down. “Oh no, how will I survive?”

“Don’t sound too disappointed,” he teases, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around your waist, his cold hands making you yelp as they press against your back.

You swat at him, laughing. “Your hands are freezing! Go warm up by the fire while I grab some extra wood.”

“I can do it,” Glen offers, but you shake your head.

“Nope. You’re already half-frozen. Just sit down and thaw out.”

He smirks, holding his hands up in surrender as he moves to the couch. Brisket hops up beside him, wagging his tail and settling in as Glen scratches behind his ears.

You pull on your coat and boots, stepping out into the crisp, snowy air to gather a few more logs from the covered woodpile. The snow is already piling up, muffling the usual sounds of the woods and leaving the world feeling quiet and serene.

As the fire crackles and the snow continues to fall heavily outside, the two of you settle back into the cozy rhythm of cabin life. There’s a quiet excitement in the air, knowing that the unexpected snowstorm has given you more uninterrupted time together—a gift neither of you were expecting but both secretly cherish.

[vienssunshine]

What do you really want, you psychopath?

pairing: Josh Washington x fem reader nsfw word count: 6.7k content warning: blood, violence, needles, manipulation, non-con elements (nonconsensual filming, deception) author's note: My obsession with Until Dawn returns every summer like clockwork.

You hope he's doing okay.

It's the only thought sticking in your mind as you pace on the cable car platform. After everything last year, after him shutting down, not able to talk to anyone, you hope that now, a year later, things are at least better than they were. He has mentioned a therapist, so it's a little comforting knowing he's getting the professional help he needs.

You lean your hands against the wooden railing and admire the snowy landscape, trying to push Josh out of your mind. Instead, you shift your focus to Sam, because where the hell is she? Sam insisted on you both being the first ones up the mountain, but it's fifteen minutes past the time you agreed to meet and she has yet to arrive.

Your phone buzzes with a message from your friend:

"Hey! So sorry but traffic is terrible and I'm gonna be a bit. I don't want to keep you waiting out in the cold so take the cable car up and I'll see you up there!"

Turning your phone off, you sigh. Things are going to be awkward this year. Walking in with Sam would have eased your nerves about seeing everyone again, but it looks like you aren't being afforded that comfort anymore. Worse comes to worst, you can spend the evening holed up in your guest room with your favorite book.

You step into the cable car and try to ignore how the whole thing creaks and sways with the wind. The Washingtons are rich, so they must have the money to get this thing safety checked. Right?

The music you play in your earbuds somewhat drowns out the loud groans of the car as it travels up the snowy peak. Through the frosty window, you can see what looks like a blizzard rolling in. Good thing you'll be able to hunker down in Josh's cabin.

At the top of the mountain, the doors open and you see him, Josh Washington, standing alone in the snow. After all this time, the sight takes you aback; he seems to be an apparition, not fully there.

"Look what the cat dragged in," he says, hands in the pockets of his winter jacket, "Well, I guess it was the cable car, not a cat." His lazy grin is unshakable as he speaks.

"Hi Josh," you respond, fighting the smile creeping up on your face.

"Here, let me grab that for you," he says, stepping forward and helping you out of the straps of your North Face backpack. He swings it over his shoulder and beckons you up the path.

You thank him, bashful, and follow. The trail is white with snow and dimly lit, a few lanterns hanging from the fences, their wood corroded from the harsh winters before.

"So, is anyone else here yet?" you ask, pulling your gloves on. The wind feels stronger here than it did at the bottom of the mountain, it's icy and cutting into the skin of your fingers.

"Nah, the other party people aren't due for another hour or two." He leans in with an evil grin, "So it'll be just us for a while, scared?"

You giggle, pushing the man away from you, "I don't know if I'll survive all of your ultra-corny jokes, Josh."

"Yeah? Then, any requests for what they should put on your tombstone?" he asks, giving you a lighthearted push back.

"Shut up." You shake your head, smiling, before stealing a glance at your watch: 8:03 p.m. "Actually, I guess I won't have to survive for long since I'm on time. So everyone should be due soon."

"Aww, come on," Josh says, "You know they're all gonna be late."

You punch Josh in the arm and he fakes serious injury, "Don't talk about our friends like that, I trust in their punctuality. Sam, our good, timely friend even took the initiative to get us to come early."

Josh looks around in an exaggerated manner, squinting into the dark forest, "Do you see Sammy here? Or anyone else? 'Cause I don't. Face it, they're all gonna be late. Sam at least had the decency to give me a heads-up about it."

"Yeah, the traffic's terrible apparently."

"Damn, I guess she's gonna be even later then."

You furrow your brow, "What do you mean?"

"Sam told me to expect her around 9. So, if there's traffic, it might not be until like 9:30 or 10. Right?"

"Wait, when did she tell you to expect her at 9?"

"Uh...a few days ago, maybe?" Josh glances at you sideways, "Something up?"

Confused at the discrepancy between Sam and Josh's stories, you wrack your brain. Why did Sam want you to go early with her but tell Josh she was going to show up late?

You clench your fist, Sam wanted you and Josh alone. She's known you've had a crush on him for so long and has been relentless in encouraging you to go for it. This must be her fucked up way of forcing you to.

Josh studies you, still puzzled. Staring ahead, you notice the silhouette of the lodge at the end of the path. You weigh your options: should you be honest about what you think Sam is up to or just let it go?

You elect to give Sam a stern talking-to later, reassuring Josh by saying, "Ah it's nothing." You point to the cabin, "Hey, we're almost there!"

He follows your finger and gazes at the lodge ahead, "You're right, soon we can party all night long," he says with a mischievous smirk.

You lumber up the old stairs and find that the door to the lodge is unable to be opened.

"Ah, shit. The lock's frozen," Josh observes.

"Is there another way we can get in? Or get the door unfrozen? I'm not gonna lie, I am freezing my buns off out here."

Yeah, you'd like to spend more time with Josh, but not in nearly subzero temperatures.

"Now, now, you know Josh wouldn't keep a pretty girl outside freezing her buns off for long. Wait here, I have an idea."

Josh hurries off behind the lodge, leaving you on the porch, arms wrapped around your body in a fruitless attempt to warm yourself. You look around at the dark woods surrounding the cabin. It's a dense forest, filled with gnarly trees that look like they're twisting into one another in a warped dance.

A small trace of movement pulls your attention, something shifting its position in the tree line. Anxiety begins to pour into your stomach and you look around for Josh who is nowhere to be seen. Is something—or someone—out there? You step forward, placing your hands on the railing and leaning over to get a better look when the door behind you flies open.

"Honey, you're home!" Josh cries out.

"Josh!" you respond in a harsh whisper, "Keep it down!"

Josh laughs, placing his hand on the small of your back and guiding you into the house, "For who? No one is out here besides me," he points to himself, "and you," he presses his finger to your chest, right beneath your zipper.

His small touch flusters you, bringing a welcomed warmth to your cheeks. It makes you forget about whatever you saw in the woods. Must have been a bird.

He leads you into the living room and motions with a bow for you to sit on the couch. "Now, if the lovely lady would allow me, I'd adore starting a fire to warm her freezing buns."

Assuming a janky upper-class accent, you respond, "Why, of course, fine gentleman. I suppose that will suffice to toast said freezing buns."

You both laugh, and it makes you forget how cold you are. It's nice to kid around like old times. Like times before Hannah and Beth ran off into the woods and were never seen again. Things were easier then, it was easier to make jokes, easier to laugh.

You sink further into the couch as Josh piles wood into the fireplace.

"Josh?"

"Yeah?" He throws one last log in and pulls out a matchbook from his jeans.

"I'm happy to see you again. It's been a while."

"Too long," he agrees, striking and lighting the match.

You shift in your seat on the couch. "I guess I wanted to ask, are you okay?"

He freezes, and the match dies in his hand.

Shit, you went too far. What were you thinking, asking him how he is doing on the anniversary of the death of his little sisters? You begin to ramble, "Josh, I'm sorry, you don't have to answer that if you don't-"

"It's fine," he interrupts, "I'm fine."

You lean forward on the couch, "It's okay if you're not. Honestly, I wouldn't be."

He strikes the match again and lights the kindling as he talks. "I know that having our friends up here is going to help. It really means a lot to me that everyone is coming back to spend this weekend together."

The flickering flame nestled in the piled-on logs is growing in size, blossoming into a healthy, cozy fire. You can feel its warmth on your cheeks already.

Josh ambles over to the couch, sitting next to you—sitting very closely next to you. You almost scooch away, but decide to stay still.

Josh turns his body towards yours. "It means a lot to me that you came."

It's hard to keep your composure; his words feel too intimate and, god, his arm is resting on the couch behind you, one movement away from wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you close.

"Thanks, Josh," you force out, looking down at your hands. Your fingers are anxiously knotted together, a clear sign that your body is short-circuiting at his proximity.

He follows your gaze, watching you fidget in your lap. He then moves in, resting a hand on yours to quiet your restless fingers and placing the other beneath your jaw, using his knuckle to gently move your chin up so you face him.

You're freaking out. This is crazy. Why is he touching you like this?

"I-uh...well..." you stammer.

"Do you like me?" he whispers.

You freeze up; what do you even say to that? There's no way you can tell him you've had an embarrassingly unmanageable crush on him since the day you met. It could blow up the entire friendship. But, it's possible that he feels the same way you do, isn't it? His face is mere inches from yours!

Unless he doesn't feel the same way. After countless cruel and mean-spirited pranks, this friend group has sown distrust into every fiber of your body. You want to trust Josh with your true feelings, but can you?

Your mouth gapes, unable to articulate the paralyzing swirl of desire and fear coursing through you.

So you stay silent, and he retreats from your personal space, leaning back against the couch cushion, "Don't worry about answering now, I have a feeling everyone will know each other a lot better after tonight."

Your brow furrows at the crypticness of his statement, but before you can think about it too much, Josh's phone vibrates, and he gives you a knowing smirk, "Speak of the devil."

He gets off the couch and answers the phone while you try to keep your brain from spinning out of control. He was so close to you, which was really scary, but at the same time, it felt really good.

Josh teases the recipient on the other line about Ashley, so you take a guess that he's speaking to Chris.

He ends the phone call and turns to you, "Gotta go pick up the kids at the end of the trail, wanna come with?"

You press your lips together, "Um, I think I'll hang back. Y'know, unpack and stuff."

"Suit yourself," he shrugs, grabbing a flashlight and exiting the cabin.

Still in a daze, you head down the dark hallway and find your guest room. You unpack your clothes into the wooden dresser and throw your diary onto the patchwork quilt atop your bed. The bedroom is a familiar space to you, but it doesn't bring the comfort familiarity typically does.

You take some time to journal out your feelings, trying to work out the complex emotions that come with being back at this lodge after last year. Then, you take some time to write about Josh. How he had possibly come on to you tonight. How you wanted it to go further.

Voices begin to fill up the halls, so you leave your bedroom and journal to join everyone out in the living room. The fire is now roaring and Sam has arrived, so you go to greet her.

You expected everyone to be making an effort to get along considering the reason you're all up here, but since Josh has to separate Jess and Emily by sending Jess and Mike to the guest cabin, it's clear that no one is putting in the work.

The rest of the group swiftly and awkwardly disperse, each couple running off to deal with something whether it be finding a lost bag or a Ouija board. Whether they're making excuses so they don't have to stick around, you don't know, but it hurts to realize that your friend group will probably never recover from last year.

For a moment, Josh looks defeated, but he quickly plasters on his usual devil-may-care smirk.

Sam heads upstairs for a bath, but not before you pull her aside and whisper-shout about her audacious set-up. She laughs it off, and you both agree she can make it up to you with a card game in your room after she washes off.

Still feeling weird about Josh and the exchange earlier, you elect to read in your room instead of hanging out with him. Only, when you go back to the guest room to grab your book, you can't find it in your bag. What you don't notice is how your journal has also disappeared from its place on top of your bed.

"Hey, Josh?" You walk back into the living room to see Josh as well as Chris and Ashley sitting in front of a Ouija board, "Oh hi, Chris, Ashley. Have any of you seen my book?"

"There's a bunch of books around here," Chris shares unhelpfully.

Josh turns toward you, "What does it look like?"

You position your hands to give them a visual aid, "About this big? Green? Signed by the author on the inside?"

Your friends stare at you, blank, and you let your hands fall to your sides.

"Are you sure you packed it?" Ashley asks.

"Yes, I'm sure, and it's special so I really need to find it."

"Maybe it fell out when we were walking up?" Josh suggests.

"Ugh. You're probably right. I'm gonna go check," you say, zipping up your coat.

"I'll go with you," Josh offers, about to stand up before you say, "No, it's...it's fine."

"Are you sure you don't want some alone time with Josh?" Chris teases. Ashley laughs a little too hard.

With a grin, Josh adds on, "What if there are some baddies out there?"

You offer a weak smile, "I'll be fine. Like you said, there's no one else up here but us this weekend. Besides, Emily and Matt are down there getting a bag or whatever."

"Okay," Josh says, throwing his hands up in defeat.

You take a flashlight and head down the trail, squinting as the snow comes down heavier and heavier. After following your friends' footsteps all the way down the path, you spot your book on the bank of a narrow creek a little ways off the trail. You're not sure how it got there but are just happy to have it again.

Brushing off the light dusting of snow atop the book's cover, you're pleased to realize that the weather hasn't damaged the book at all. You're less pleased when you hear an arguing couple headed your way. You silently curse; you had hoped to make your journey as short as possible to avoid this dysfunctional pair.

They turn the corner and Matt sees you, calling out your name with a wave. Emily stares ahead with her arms crossed.

"Hey, guys!" you respond.

They walk up to join you, but your presence doesn't make an impact as they continue bickering all the way back up to the lodge. You succeed in tuning them out until Chris and Ashley appear out of the snowfall.

Your mouth falls open as you take the scene in: Ashley is curled into Chris's chest and her clothes are soaked with blood.

You hurry over to them, "Are you guys okay? What happened?"

Emily gasps, "Ashley, whose blood is that?"

Ashley lets out a strangled sob, clinging onto Chris.

"Chris, what happened?" Matt asks.

"J-Josh," Chris chokes out.

You take a step forward, "Josh what, Chris?"

"He's gone. It's all my fault. There's...there's a psycho on the mountain."

His words are like cold hands that squeeze your heart. There's no way.

"What did you say?" Emily cries, "There's like a serial killer up here?"

Ashley begins sobbing uncontrollably, "Yes! There's a killer and he's gonna kill us all if we don't get out of here!"

"It's okay, it's all gonna be okay," Matt says, and he turns to Emily, "We need to get help."

"But Sam," you interrupt, "Sam's still at the lodge!"

"You're right," Chris says, "We need to get everyone back together first."

"But we also need help!" Emily says, "If there's some psycho up here, I'm not just gonna go back and run into his arms!"

"Here," you say, "You and Matt go get help while Chris, Ashley, and I go back to the lodge to get Sam and everyone else."

"Fine!" Emily responds, "But we need to go, now!"

You split off into your separate directions. Ashley and Chris decide to check the upstairs bathroom while you hurry to check the guest rooms.

You fly down the hallway, opening and searching all the rooms lining the corridor. When you get to your room, you close your eyes and crack open the door, praying that when you open your eyes, your friend will be there, cards in hand, ready to play your make-up game.

"Sam?" you cry out. Nothing.

You check the closet and under the bed, thinking she could be hiding but still come up empty.

You're about to turn around to go check the rest of the rooms when a large hand clamps around your mouth, slamming your back into a hard chest so another arm can ambush you, wrapping around your waist and holding you still.

"Looking for your friend?" a distorted voice asks. Your eyes widen. Shit. This must be the psycho Ashley and Chris were talking about.

You begin to thrash against the body behind you, desperate to do anything to avoid whatever fate Josh had suffered. Your fight does nothing but make the arms around you constrict, the strength of the maniac locking you in place, pressed against their body.

"I wouldn't be difficult, if I were you," the voice states, and you're frightened into compliance when the maniac presses a syringe of mystery liquid up to your neck. You whimper against his glove.

"Now, now, there's no need to be scared," he tucks the syringe away and begins stroking your hair, "As long as you behave, you'll be in good hands."

Tears well up in your eyes and you suppress the urge to fight back again.

He seems lost in thought for a moment as he uses his gloved fingers to play with your hair, but shortly regains his focus, "If you promise to keep quiet, I won't have to use that syringe I showed you earlier," he chuckles, the sound metallic with the voice changer, before adding, "Not that anyone would hear you or be able to help."

You gasp, are Chris and Ashley okay? Is Sam?

He looks down at you, and you can see a part of the mask he's wearing in your peripheral vision. "Can you do that for me? Be nice and quiet like a good little kitten?" As he speaks, he slowly pulls down the zipper of your coat, exposing your tight v-neck shirt.

You press your eyes shut and give a curt nod. It's best to just go along with what he says, you want to try to make it out of this alive.

The man releases the hand over your mouth, and you make an effort to keep from breaking down in tears. The psycho takes a step back and away as you manually even your breathing.

"Sit on the bed and face me," he says.

You take a few uncertain steps forward, as though you were walking on a lurching boat, and sit on the patchwork quilt, cramming yourself close to the wall behind you and pulling your knees up to your chest. You raise your chin to face your attacker and cold fear washes over you.

He's tall, built, and looks like something right out of a slasher film. He's wearing oversized overalls dirtied with dried mud and a creepy skull-like mask that covers his entire head and neck. The syringe he threatened you with pokes out of his pocket, a reminder of the consequences if you don't comply. Down by his side, his gloved hand grips a journal—your journal.

He opens your diary and begins to carelessly flip through it, "Hmmm...maybe I should tell you a bedtime story to calm you down. There's a lot of great material in here."

Your fists ball up, scrunching the fabric of the quilt beneath them. "What do you want?" you grit out. Those entries are personal, and you'd have no idea why this intruder would be interested in reading them.

Ignoring you, the psycho flips to the page you had left your bookmark in. "Look at that, a recent entry," he darkly chuckles at his discovery, "I wonder what it says."

Your lips tighten, of all entries, why did it have to be that one?

"It's nothing, just random fucking friend group shit," you say.

The psycho looks up, gazing at you for once instead of the pages in his hands. "Then you wouldn't mind me reading it, would you?"

You open your mouth, helpless, "Um, no...you don't need to-"

The maniac lumbers towards you, just a few steps away, before he begins to recite your words.

"Fuck, Josh is so hot. It's literally torture. I want to take him into one of these guest rooms and just have my way with him. I'd let him do anything he wanted too, like let him just use my body for his pleasure. Ugh, I'm getting all hot just thinking about it. It's killing me that we were literally alone, and I think he was making a move on me, but I just didn't do anything about it. But I don't know, I don't want to push it after his sisters..." the psycho trails off.

Your face burns, feeling more embarrassed than scared now, even with a potential murderer standing before you. Your words sound so much more extreme and mortifying after being read aloud. Is that what he's trying to do, humiliate you?

The psycho closes the journal, steps forward, and tosses it onto the dresser. He's close now, boots planted on the red carpet in front of the bed, just a few paces away. He's watching you, his gaze suffocating, so you avert your own, instead focusing on the area above his left shoulder.

A glint in the corner of the room, right where the ceiling meets the two adjacent walls, catches your eye.

"Nothing to say about that entry, sweetheart?" the psycho asks, standing there with his gloved hands by his side as if he has all the time in the world.

This is getting suspicious; why is he asking you about your crush instead of, I don't know, killing you? It seems like such a trivial topic for a killer to be focused on...if he actually is one. Were Chris and Ashley wrong?

You peer at the shady corner of the room and are able to make out a circular object: a black and shiny lens. Above it is a dim but steadily blinking red light. You're being filmed. With that realization, you put it together.

They're pranking you.

It started with Sam tricking you into being alone with Josh, and then Chris teasing you about him, and then Ashley and Chris putting on a hell of a show trying to convince you some psycho is running around. Now, they're trying to terrify you into confessing your feelings. It's all some stupid, immature prank where you are the butt of the joke.

A deep frown forms on your face and you unfurl your body from its curled up position on the bed. Fury begins to pulse through your body.

"Now that I think about it, I actually have plenty to say about that entry." You stand up, taking a bold stride toward the "psycho". His hand raises to the pocket the syringe sticks out of, but you continue unfazed.

"First, let me start off with the fact that I will not let you guys scare and embarrass me for your own entertainment, alright?" You're almost yelling now, and the man watches as you continue your tirade.

You stare down the camera, gesticulating wildly, "I have feelings for Josh, okay? I want to fuck Josh. Hard." You throw your hands in the air, "And you can play all these stupid little tricks you want on me but I'm not going to let you guys make me feel bad about it. I don't give a fuck about what any of you think of me."

You sigh, exasperated, and face the speechless man standing in front of you. "There you go, hope you guys got the laugh you wanted."

He observes you as you shift your weight, the creepy eyes of the mask staring uncomfortably deep into you. You fold your arms, "So you can take the mask off now, okay? The prank's over, Chris."

"It's not Chris."

You press your lips together, "Okay, then who is it, Mike?"

The psycho speaks again, but this time, the voice-changer has been turned off.

"I think you know who it is."

Your eyes widen. There's no way you just confessed to-

The psycho's gloved hands rise to his head, and his fingers hook behind his mask and bring it down, revealing Josh's smirking face.

You take a wobbly step back, your anger disintegrating and leaving you without the confidence to speak as casually as you just were.

He chuckles, amused by your surprise and confusion. "This isn't how I imagined this going, but I'm not complaining about it." He places his mask next to your journal that's on top of the dresser.

A million thoughts and feelings begin swirling around your head and body at a vertigo-inducing pace, but they are all quieted when Josh steps forward and takes your hands in his gloves.

"Josh, what...what's going on?" you ask meekly, "Where is everyone?" It feels so contradictory, but knowing it's him near you, with his hands in yours, makes you feel so safe.

"I set up a few games for them," Josh says, "They should be entertained for a bit. But yeah, it's all one big prank. Gotcha!"

It feels like he's holding back a full reply. You look up at him, searching his green eyes for a complete answer, only to be met with a warm rush to your stomach at the fact that his gaze is soft, loving, and entirely focused on you. It's easier to fall into his warm embrace than insist on knowing more about the stupid prank, so you choose to just let it go.

Josh looks down and away, “Y’know, I’ve always been into you. I’m not good with this kind of thing but…I’ve always wanted to ask you out. I never got the courage to tell you that until now.”

Your heart flutters. “I was scared to tell you too, I just didn’t know how you’d react given…everything.”

He nods, “It feels like sometimes it takes a life-or-death situation to get people to confess their true feelings. Like Chris and Ashley, it’d take a gun to their head to get either of them to spill their guts.” 

“You’re probably right,” you giggle. 

Josh leans closer to you, hands moving from yours so they can rest on the curve of your waist. His thumbs slowly stroke your sides, provoking the urge to move his hands underneath your shirt to feel the sensation unobstructed. 

“So,” he starts, his voice quieter, dripping with something darker, “Was everything you wrote in your diary true?” 

You bring your arms up so they’re around his neck, pressing your body into his. Your soft chest melds into his hard sternum and heat radiates through his overalls to warm your skin. 

You tilt your head so your lips are centimeters from his, “You mean how I wrote pages upon pages of how bad I wanted to fuck you?” 

His hands tighten, squeezing your waist, and with his chest so close to yours, you can feel his heartbeat speed up at your words. 

“Fuck,” he says, “I guess I didn’t know you wanted it as much as I have.” 

You lean forward, closing the gap between your lips and kiss him, hard. You melt into each other, bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces, devoid of any negative space. One of his hands comes up to your jaw and the other travels to the small of your back, pushing you further into him. 

Threading your fingers into his hair, you deepen the kiss, parting your lips and allowing your tongues to push into each other's mouths. He’s a little hesitant at first, but any self-consciousness vanishes when you begin to moan breathily into your open-mouthed kisses. Thoroughly encouraged by your noises of delight, he indulges in his desire, indulges in you.

His kisses are becoming messy and desperate as he works to keep receiving your pretty little noises. He runs his hands all over your body, feeling every dip and curve, wanting to touch all of you at the same time. Each brush of his hands sends tingles up your spine and you move with him, desiring nothing more but to keep your body underneath the palms of his hands.

You allow your hands to explore too, taking them downward, past the buttons of his shirt, the large pocket of his overalls, and his belt until they reach the hardness in his pants. You rest delicate fingers on it, tracing the outline and Josh breaks from your kiss to groan. 

You let out a shaky breath, “Shit, Josh. I want this. I want you.” 

He leans down and grabs the backs of your thighs, hoisting you up and against him. Now suspended, you tighten your arms around his neck, holding onto him. Josh lays you down on the quilt and you spread your body out, relaxing into the soft fabric and the euphoric buzz your body swims in. He crawls on top of you, pressing a kiss to your jaw, then your neck, and finally, to your collarbone all while you giggle and pull him close.

He hovers over you, “You know where I want to take you right?”

You laugh and point your finger into his chest, “Don’t you dare say that perverted phrase.” 

He smiles, bringing his hand up to his mouth to lock his lips and throw away the key. 

He begins to kiss your neck once more, and you squirm underneath him, overwhelmed by the sensation his warm and wet lips shock through your body. His shirt’s sleeves are rolled up, so you wrap your hands around his thick forearms to stabilize yourself. 

Josh moves the neckline of your t-shirt, kissing further down on the increasingly exposed skin. Each kiss sends heat blooming deep in your stomach, making it even harder to keep still with the waves of pleasure overtaking you. His fingers tug on the hem of your t-shirt, a silent ask for removal. You’re about to comply when the shine of the camera in the corner catches your eye once more, the lens trained directly on the bed. 

“Josh, the camera?” you ask. 

“Not on,” he mumbles, entranced by the sight and feeling of your chest. 

It’s enough reassurance for you to pull your coat and shirt off, uncovering your bra and torso. Your exposure gives you a sudden wave of self-doubt about the prank pulled on you and everyone's role in it. You still have questions since some things aren’t fitting together, but, shamefully, it’s hard to think critically when Josh’s lips feel so good against you. 

“Fuck, y’know you’re so pretty?” Josh whispers into your torso, lavishing your chest with kisses and licks as he worships your body, “All of our winter trips…s’been so hard to focus with you here. Just wanted to touch you.”

Your fingernails begin to dig into his forearms. “It was so hard for me too, Josh, I’ve had a crush on you for like ever.” He kisses just above your jeans and you let out a gasp. Your hand comes up to your mouth in an attempt to muffle your noises, but Josh pins your wrist to the bedspread. 

“Please,” he says, “I want…to hear you,” he presses another kiss to your pelvis, “I’ve been wanting to do this for so long.” 

“Okay,” you answer, breath hitching as he unbuttons your pants. He pulls your jeans off and throws them onto the rug. “Mmm, no fair,” you whine, using your free hand to knock one of his overall straps off his shoulder. He smiles, complying with your wishes by taking his overalls off, leaving him in his button-up and dark jeans. 

“Is this satisfactory for the princess?” he asks, waiting for you to evaluate his outfit. 

You tilt your head and grin, “Hmmm…satisfactory for now.” 

“Then, may I continue pleasuring my fair maiden?”

“You may,” you giggle. 

He kneels between your thighs and strokes his fingers along the curves of your legs, marveling at your beauty. 

“You have such a tight bod,” he says, breathless. He places a big hand on your lower stomach, “And so soft, too.”

A shy smile spreads across your face; the words from your crush make you feel tingly and giddy. “It makes me happy that you like my body,” you respond. 

“I love it,” he says, bending your knees and pressing a kiss to your inner thigh, amused by how you instinctively jerk at the sensation. “You like when I kiss you there?” he asks, already knowing the answer. 

Your breathing becomes uneven as he kisses further down your inner thigh, closing in on your underwear and the darkened patch where your wetness has soaked through the fabric. Josh’s rough hands slip down your thighs, holding them open and still despite the way you squirm when his lips feel a little too good. 

He pauses for a quick moment to pull off his shirt, leaving him in his dark henley top that hugs his lean build perfectly. 

“I want more off of you,” you demand, and Josh grins, stating that “Somebody’s eager.” 

His henley top comes off and shirtless Josh is between your legs once more, kissing just a few inches shy of your underwear. His hands roam as he does, gratefully squeezing the flesh of your thighs. 

He moans your name as he licks a stripe across the inside of your leg, sending the thoughts straight out of your brain. All you know is that he sounds so fucking hot when he moans your name. 

“C-can I take these off now?” he asks, placing a hand on your underwear, a twinge of desperation underlying his voice.

“Yes, please, Josh,” you gasp, thumbs already tucking into your waistband to get the burdensome fabric off as quickly as possible. 

He groans as your glistening folds are exposed, looking like he’s about to come just from the sight of you. Within seconds he’s nestled between your legs again, kissing your thighs until he gets to your soaked entrance. His hot breath fans against you, sending butterflies of anticipation up your sides. 

“I’ve been thinking about doing this for so long,” he admits before licking up your cunt with a flattened tongue, sending one of your hands down to get knotted into his hair and the other gripping onto the bedsheets for dear life. 

He continues to lick his tongue through your folds, and you begin to writhe underneath his touch, “Fuck, Josh, it…it feels really good.” 

He groans against you, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through your body. Your hips kick up against your will, but Josh pushes your pelvis back down into the mattress, palm firmly placed on your lower stomach, fingers spread. 

“Can’t have you wiggling around, now can we?” he says before diving into your pussy one more. He bathes your clit with attention, holding your hips down and keeping you still every time a flick of his tongue is too powerful for you to handle. 

Your fingers dig deep into Josh’s hair, pulling it gently, which he seems to enjoy with the way he groans into you. His hips buck a little into the mattress whenever you pull tighter, so desperate to get off to you.

He watches you as he pleasures you, devouring every little reaction with his dark and hungry green eyes. When you look down, you can see that one of his hands has slipped underneath his jeans, allowing him to palm himself to your delightful reactions. 

He begins to suck on your clit, kissing and taking it into his mouth rhythmically in a way that might just drive you out of your right mind. His mouth is warm and wet against you and each shockwave of pleasure it gifts breaks you down into smaller and smaller pieces. 

Honestly, it’s frightening how the bliss consumes you in totality: thoughts, body, everything. It’s better than any smutty fantasy you scribbled down in your journal. Your imagination could have never conjured up what it feels like to have Josh go down on you.

“You’re s’hot,” he says in between licks, “And taste so good, fuck.” 

You moan, and he becomes sloppier with his movements, too overcome by desire to think straight. You buck your hips against him and he lets you, allowing his hand to just sit on your pelvis instead of push it down.

Tingles of electricity shoot up your sides as you ride Josh’s tongue. He accommodates his mouth to every jerky thrust of your hips, fully giving in to your carnal pleasure. He watches you, eyes half-lidded, touching himself, and completely under the spell of your gyrating body. 

“Ah—fuck, Josh I’m so close.”

“Please,” he mumbles, his tongue and mouth inseparable from your wet cunt, “I want you to, I want you to come so bad.”

A strangled moan rips through your throat as an orgasm comes crashing down on you. You throw your head back against the quilt, eyes crinkled shut and mouth agape. The pleasure hits you in unforgiving waves, slamming into your poor body until it's through with you.

Josh strokes your quaking thighs, soothing the intensity of your climax and helping you through it. 

“Fuck—that’s it, there you go” Josh coos.

Your whole body falls limp, and you lie supine on the bed, the aftershocks of your orgasm still buzzing through you. Your canal throbs, squeezing around but the copious amount of slick dripping out of your pussy.

Josh clambers up to your face, kissing your cheek and forehead as you try to slow your panting. 

“Josh,” you slur, still trying to return to Earth. 

“Mmm?” he answers, placing a gentle kiss to your temple. 

“That was really good,” you manage to express. 

He smiles against your skin, lies down next to you, and wraps his arms around your body, holding you to him with a comforting firmness. Your hands rest on the bicep settled over your chest, and you snuggle into Josh’s embrace. He’s so warm, and smells so good. He’s exactly what you need after such a violent orgasm.

Your energy depleted, you slip off, so comfortable and safe in Josh’s arms. 

Josh waits until you're fully asleep before checking his watch. Based on the time, Ashley and Chris should be waking up soon from the sleeping gas he had poisoned them with.

Careful not to wake you, Josh slips out of the bed, dresses himself, and picks up the mask on the dresser.

"Sleep well, honey," he says with a smile before shutting the door behind him.

[druidwolf21]

As per the votes, here's some loving smut with everyone's fav space viking!

Leman Russ/F reader

Content warning-

sexual content

A bit of fluff

Homesickness

Saying I love you during sexy time???

@moodymisty @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @lemon-russ @beckyninja @jaghatai-khock

Hope you like some sexy lovins

Words and meanings

Skitja- fenrisian curse

Volda Hamarrki- the mountain range of fenris

Skitnah-dirty/foul

Aett- clan hols/ heath fenrisian name for the fang

Stormurstjórn- stormcaller (I used this as a little pet name

Skíthof- another fenrisian curse

Gmorl-fate

The fire roared and blazed, spitting sparking embers across the marbled guard as you stared listlessly into the light. The book you had been reading hung limply from your hand as your eyes followed motes of flames dancing from one cindered log to another as it's warmth gently toasted your skin.

You allowed your eyes to wander from the embers to the room you sat in. Cold steel walls rising high above you, dispersed with woven tapestries of great battles and flickering oil torches. You sighed wistfully as your sight fell on a painting of a forest, trees frosted with diamond snow and silvered icicles, shadowy wolven figures dancing through the wood with amber eyes that seemed to glow.

You fisted the furs on the bed you had perched on as you threw the book aside and fell backwards, staring at the canopy above you, willing it to turn from soft cotton into the grey fenrisian sky. Squeezing your eyes shut and inhaling, you could almost smell the frozen sap, warm mjord and smelting iron that hung perpetually through the halls of the fang.

But home was a long way away and no matter how hard you willed it, upon opening your eyes, the dream of Asaheim faded into the distance. Your memory of warm meals and warmer company left a bitter taste in your mouth as you swept a hand across your face. Your thoughts were dragged back into the present by a wet nose against your thigh and a quiet whine.

Resigning yourself to your current situation, you drag yourself upright, smiling gently as you come face to face with golden eyes and a maw of teeth as long as Eldari daggers. Thick lines of spit coated each fang as the beast breathed heavily in your face before letting out another low whine.

You snorted and place a hand on the wolf's snout, playfully pushing it away.

""Skítja, fenki!" You curse "what have you been eating, your breath is worse than...well I don't know, but it's bad!"

You recoiled as your question got you a long, hot lick from your bare ankle to the top of your thigh. You hopped off the bed and rushed to an oaken dressing table, ripping a towel from a drawer and dragging it along your leg.

"you are so gross" you laugh lightly, dropping the towel and walking back over, pressing your face into warm fur and inhaling deeply.

"I guess you miss home too, huh?"

You nuzzled in deeper, wrapping your arms around the giant canine as far as you could, twisting your fingers through coarse fur and feeling the slow, steady rise and fall of it's chest.

"I promise, as soon as we can, we'll take you back home, back to Volda Hamarrki. Me, you, Russ and Geri, does that sound good?" You whispered, trying to stem tears before they fell

"we'll go back, away from this Skitnah ship, feel the snow under our feet again"

The tears flowed freely as you buried your face, gritting your teeth, willing them to stop as you fought to push the home sickness from your thoughts.

"Making plans for me, my little Stormurstjórn?"

You spun round, hair whipping around as you turned to face the owner of the deep voice that thrummed through you.

Lemans grin faltered as he saw your face, wet with tears, he threw down his thick cloak as he rushed over, dropping to a knee and cupping your face gently.

"my heart, what happened? why do you cry?" His face darkens and a snarl starts forming on his face, his hands and eyes gliding over you "did someone hurt you? If someone touched you I'll.."

You shake your head gently, looking into lemans icy blue eyes and smiling shyly.

"no my lord, I'm fine, just wishing for the comforts of home"

You see the tension leave your primarks body as he leans back slightly and your heart fluttered as his easy smile found his face again. He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips before pressing his forehead against yours.

"The Aett may be far, but you are here and that is home enough for me" he murmured, his voice as thick and sweet as honey mjord as he brushed the tears from your face.

You pulled away and pressed your hands to his cheeks, admiring the way the dying embers cast a warm glow across his face and down his neck. His eyes shone, almost reflective as the light flittered and sputtered.

A thick golden braid had fallen over his shoulder and You leant back in, running the hair through your fingers before pressed a kiss against his lips. His arms wrapped around you and you felt like you were melting into him as he returned your touch, running his tongue along your lips, deepening the kiss.

You gasped as a callused hand found your ass, snaking beneath the metal blue dress you were wearing. Leman took advantage of your shock, pushing is tongue into your mouth and tasting you, his other hand locked in your hair. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you sucked his tongue, tasting mjord and smoke, earning a growl in return.

You separated and leman admired the mess you had become already, lips pink and cheeks flushed.

"I can give you a taste of home, if you miss it so much" he smirked, running his tongue along his fangs.

You rolled your eyes and grinned, before leaning back in for another kiss.

Russ took this as an open invite and swept you in his arms, dropping you on the bed and slowly slid your dress off your shoulders, peppering kisses and bites marks down your neck and shoulders as he swept the garment from under you and tossed it to the floor. His hand gripped your waist and ran down your thighs as he took a perk nipple in his mouth and ran his tongue around it, he grinned again, lifting himself from your breast to look at you.

Your eyes were slightly glazed as your chest rose and fell, looking at your lover with doe eyes.

He returned his gaze to your body, trailing his tongue down your stomach before reaching where you wanted.

He lifted your thighs higher as he dove in, licking and sucking on your pussy like a starving man. You gasped and instinctively locked your fingers in his hair.

His tongue felt rough but throne did he know what he what he was doing

Your moaned his name, hips jerking fruitlessly as he held you down, his eyes locked on your face as you came, your hands tightening in his hair as your orgasm rocked through you.

Leman rose, licking away your taste from his lips as he looked down at his work, you lay, flushed and gasping on the warm fur across the bed.

Just the way he liked it

He quickly made light work of his own clothes, throwing them into their own heap next to yours

Your eyes grazed over his body as he stalked towards you, trailing down his broad, scarred chest, following the line of his abs and the trail of hair, lower and lower...

Leman, climbed over you, his braids tickling your skin as he gently gripped one of your hands, locking it next to your head and gazing down at you. You felt your cheeks flush at the intensity of his eyes. The concern, care and feral arousal in his stare raised a heat in your core.

"my little queen" he whispered in your ear, as he slowly slid inside you, inch by inch filing you. You moaned as you felt yourself stretch to your limit, his dick reaching deep inside you as your back arched, pressing your breasts into his chest. He pressed a kiss to your cheek and slowly withdrew, before sliding back inside you, over and over.

"I'll fuck all the sadness right out of you"

You moan his name as he ground into you, one hand still gripping yours as the other held your thigh up, fucking you deeper than you could imagine. His dick touched every part of you as he filled you, over and over. The knot in you stomach getting tighter and tighter...

"L..leman right there!" You mutter into his ear, biting at his lobe "p please"

"Skíthof" he cursed as he felt you tighten around him, "so tight for me" your muscles fluttering around his cock as he drove deeper into you as you came.

Yes, scream my name, you belong to me, my sweet, my heart

You panted as you finished, wrestling your hand free, you gripped around his neck and looked deeply into his eyes.

"I love you, leman" you sighed, biting you lip as the feel of his driving into you, the sound of his breath and skin on skin and the heat from his body drove you towards another peak. "I love you, my wolf"

A brief look of shock passed across Russ's face, his movements became erratic and he growled and dropped his head to your shoulder as you felt him finish, feeling his cum fill you up as he jerked into you, pushing it deep inside your pussy and biting your shoulder, marking you as you cried out, finishing with him.

You stayed like that, wrapped under the body of your lord, his face pressed into the crook of your neck and your arms around him, his dick still wreathed inside you as his cum slowly leaked out.

The reality of your words set in

I love you leman...

The sweet comfort of your afterglow vanished and you blushed furiously.

"did I seriously say that for the first time DURING SEX?!" You screamed internally

Finally, you felt your partner moved, slowly raising off you, his locks tickling across your breasts sending goosebumps across your bare skin as he looked down at you wordlessly, the blue galciers of his eyes looking down at you, almost searching.

"mmm my lord I.." you stutter, trying to find the right words.

He silenced you with a firm kiss, grinning that stupid sexy grin. But despite the smug smile creeping across his features, his face was soft and he met your confused look.

"And I you, my Gmorl"

You lay in shock for a moment, your brain twisting at what was happening as leman pulled away from you and stretched, looking over his shoulder at you. You sat, bolting upright.

"I.. you..."

He smirked at you over his shoulder before rising to his feet and throwing your dress at you.

"come then, sweet one, do you still wish to see fenris again?"

He loved the way your eyes sparkled and you jumped off the bed towards him, clutching your wrinkled dress to your chest.

"really?? We're going home?" You laughed and spun and leman felt his heart skipped a beat in his chest.

He shook his head and bared his fangs in a wide love sick smile

"anything for you, my little love"

[redheadspark]

Hello!! Could I possibly request Rhys from ACOTAR with prompts #6 and #8?

Hope you’re doing well and taking care of yourself💜💜

A/N - This is cute for Rhsyand! Thanks for requesting this, anon!

Carry

Summary - Rhsyand would do anything to make you happy, including scaring your ex.

Warnings - a mix of angst and fluff

“Let me guess…..the meeting went well?”

You glare at your mate as he leans against the open doorframe into your personal study, watching you nurse a glass of wine and rest your elbows on the desk as you were rubbing your temples in both tiredness and frustration from earlier in the day.  With the moon hanging high in the night sky and the upcoming snow threatening to come from the mountains, River House was ready for winter.  Most of the house was already decorated for Winter Solstice, though you weren’t in the best of spirits thanks to your ex.  You had to have a meeting with him, you being the High Lady in Night Court and your ex being the Head of Security from Winter Court.  High Lord Kallias, though firm as a ruler and yet kind, wished to have his Head of Security accompany your meeting with his mate Viviane.  You and Viviane were on the best of terms, which was surprising to see your ex as the new hire.  Of course, Viviane knew nothing about your old relationship, and you never showed it throughout your meeting and the scheduling of upcoming events.  

It was when Vivian left the room when your ex decided to open his mouth.  That did it.

“No one was informed that Damon was the new hire, my dear,” Rhsyand reassured you as he walked into your office, grabbing a chair to pull behind him to sit next to you while you were looking over some of the documents that were perched on the desk, “it was only after you left that Kallias told me, and he sends his apologies for bringing you discomfort.”

“It wasn’t his fault,” You hummed, your eyes still scanning over the words to mostly distract yourself, “He had no clue that Damon and I used to be a couple, nor did he know that Damon was the one who broke it off with me,”

“His loss then,” Rhysand said with a shrug and a smirk on his lips, you looking over at him as he cocked his own head at you and his signature grin was evident, “I wished to see the look on his face when he saw you, the High Lady of Night Court,”

“I’d rather go through training with Cassian blindfolded than ever encounter him again,” You grumbled, Rhsyand tutted as he scooted a bit closer to where you were at your desk.  Breathing in the musky scent that was along his shirt, feeling his body heat along your own skin, it was already calming to you as he reached over to lace your fingers gently together on top of the desk.  He knew how to ground you when you were stressed out or not in the best headspace, he read you like a book and knew exactly how to take care of you.  Far before you were mates, which happened instantly after meeting each other when you fled Winter Court to Night Court, Rhysand knew your soul was beyond tender from past heartbreak and betrayal.  

“I’ll come with you next time if he’s there,” Rhysand reassured you as you glared at him.

“I can face my ex on my own,” You started to argue with him as he shook his head.

“That is not what I meant,” he hummed, you scanning his violet eyes as he squeezed your hands a bit tighter, “I merely wish to be there to take on some of the load that you carry, merely because you already have a lot on your plate as it is,”

“Rhys, I can handle it,” You reasoned, seeing him sigh and he leaned his shoulder against yours.  A small peck of his lips on your nose made him smile.

“Why do you always think you have to do everything on your own?” He asked you with a hint of coyness, “You know I’m here to help carry the load, both the light and the heavy load.”

“I know, my love,” You replied wholeheartedly, “I’m just….not used to letting someone else care of me,”

Rhysand knew of your past, being raised by your single mother and then living on your own for a good amount of time.  Food barely on the table and working long hours in the farm fields, then working just as hard on relationships that were only half fulfilled by your ex-partners.  Damon included, who was infatuated with a far prettier fae and left you for her because of it.  You always felt as though you had to carry heavy loads on your own, needing to face your own burdens and not have others take them on.

But being married to the High Lord of Night Court meant that your burden and work load instantly evaporated.  Rhysand made sure of that, from the moment you two were mates he made sure you never had to lift a single finger when it came to getting what you wanted or needed.  You were waited on hand and foot, much to your dismay, but that was Rhysand’s way of taking care of you and loving you.

Even after 600 years of marriage, he still loved you fiercely.

“You’ve always been strong for me,” Rhysand reminded you as he tucked a stray hair behind your hair with a simple bush of his finger, “Let me return the favor,”

That alone made you raise your brow at him, knowing fully well that your husband and mate must have had something up his sleeve. If there was one thing you knew about Rhysand, it was his great knack for brewing up a plan that could stir up a bit of drama.  Mostly for fun and for his amusement, but also for a purpose.  And if there was another thing that you knew about the High Lord of Night Court, it was his devotion to you.

If anyone crossed his mate, it was a death sentence.

“What did you have in mind?” You asked him, seeing him shrug simply as he took your wine glass to take a small sip.

“Leave it to your mate,” He replied as he handed you his glass again and gave you a small kiss on the lips.

“I’m glad we’re meeting again, Kallias.  We have much to discuss,”

“Of course, Rhsyand.”

You were sitting next to your husband as you were both in the meeting room at River House, the first snowfall hitting Velaris while the High Lord and Lady of Winter Court were on the opposite side of the table from you.  It was a few days after your talk to Rhysand.  In fact, he called the meeting with Winter Court the morning after when he made sure you were going to sleep in for the morning, clearing your schedule for the entire day, and then wishing to dote on you after he quick message to Kallias. 

You were wondering why he would wish to meet at your home, though he gave a brief explanation to debriefing the new Court negotiations and safety protocol, not to mention the Community Centers you and Viviane were in charge of in your respected Courts.  

But that also meant Damon would be in attendance.  You were already not looking forward to the meeting because of that, even though you loved the company of the High Lord and Lady of Winter Court and the details you were going to go over. But your mate, always a step ahead, had something up his sleeve. 

You were sporting a more casual dress for the meeting, one of the ones Rhysand gifted you for your birthday a century ago that showed off your curves and the highlights in your hair.  He matched in a dark suit himself, lacing your fingers together on top of the table with the stacked papers that were going to be discussed over while Kallias and Viviane were in their own Winter Court Tavel clothes.  

Damon in his leathers was right behind them, his hands folded behind him as he was perched in the corner and eyeing both yourself and Rhsyand.  You could sense the tensity in the room from his eyes going a bit wide at the appearance of Rhysand, there were whispers of his disbelief and slight discomfort years back when you and Rhysand became mates.  Viviane even said to you at your wedding ceremony that Damon seemed rather mad at the thought of you two being together, but that was merely the past.

You knew at that table that Rhysand had a motive with Damon, mostly because he crossed a line with his wife.

“I think we should go over safety with our borders,” Rhysand explained, you looked over at him as he was gesturing to the top of the stack of papers with his signature smile on his lips, “Although a lot of the Courts are at peace now since the war, there is always a slim chance of our safety being compromised.  With the allegiance that we have, I think we should stay a step ahead,”

“I have no problem with that,” Kallias hummed in reply, gesturing to Damon behind him, “Damon has recruited plenty more soldiers for our patrols,”

Damon gave a small tilt of his head as a friendly gesture to Rhysand, though he briefly looked over at you before he looked ahead again.  You felt Rhysand squeeze your hand gently, no one else noticing but you as your husband spoke up again.

“We are more than willing to have some of the Illyrian soldiers that are ready from our camps to come help with the training,” Rhysand suggested, “In fact, our Spymaster himself has some great ideas that he would love to talk over with Damon,”

As if on cue, you heard the door opening to the left, you all looked over to see Azriel coming into the room swiftly with his shadows attached to his tucked wings.  You felt the sense of tension heighten in the room, mostly from the Winter Court side of the table and from Damon himself. HIs body langue alone was stiffer than a few seconds before, his eyes drilled on the Spymaster as Azriel walked over to stand right behind you in your chair.  

You almost felt a lick of his shadows along your shoulder as his intense hazel eyes were on Damon, giving you a small sense of comfort as he was showing no sign of mercy to your ex.  Even Rhysand smiled widely, then talked to Kallias to start the meeting while Azriel and Damon were staring at each other with the table in the middle. Perhaps Rhysand was using this point now as a distraction for him and Kallias to start their meeting, your eyes drifting back and forth from him to Damon. 

You saw it instantly, Damon was sweating bullets.

Azriel was a friend to you, being your escort on court visits in the past and he had helped train you in some self defense skills. But the one thing you loved about Azriel was his loyalty to Night Court, specifically to Rhysand. They both had history since they were mere children, Azriel willing to go to the ends of the world for him.

Which meant he would do the same for you.

You were half listening to the meeting at hand, yet your mind was occupied elsewhere . Although you couldn’t see him since he was still standing right behind your chair, Azriel must have been giving Damon his infamous stare. The stare of intimidation, of power, of distinct knowledge he could kill him with a snap of the neck if he tried anything with his High Lady

Damon gulped. He got the message loud and clear

You had to smile, knowing fully well this was Rhysand’s doing.  You loved him ten times more.

The End.

[bbyquokka]

trapped with him

– in which yn looses a bet and ends up becoming felix's pet !!

pairing | lee felix x fem reader

genre | work colleagues, enemies to ??, smut – 18+ is advised!

cw | dom felix ; breast/nipple play ; sexual bets ; oral (f rec) ; clit stimulation ; vaginal fingering ; sexual asphyxiation (choking) ; unprotected sex ; birth control ; clit slapping w cock ; multiple orgasms ; pull out method ; cum on body ; pet/master

words | 5.7k ~ ( 5,794 )

note | this is a lil thank you fic for @oshimee for sending me a second package 🙊 there is still one more ty fic that is in the works so uh, enjoyyy! don’t forget to leave feedback, reblog

m.list — you can also read it on my ao3

dont repost. dont translate. minors, ageless & default blogs; dni! feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

“i can't believe this is happening.” you let out a disgruntled groan, head in your hands. a displeasured tut is heard from the side of you, causing you to feel even more annoyed at the situation.

you're stuck in work, or rather, you're trapped in work with your worst enemy; lee felix. a sudden snow blizzard occurred which caused a major power outage in the city. the whole city went quiet. trains and buses being canceled due to the fast mountain of snow being created.

unlucky for you, the company doors work electrical meaning you and everyone else have a fob key that allows you in and out and when there is no electricity, there's no escape.

what's even more unlucky, is that you and felix are the last to leave. you both work under the same branch meaning you both work somewhat closely together. today, you ended a little bit later than usual (only because your boss insisted on work being completed) 

you and felix were the only two in the office. no words were exchanged between the two of you and if there were, it was very short. once you completed the last set of work, you breathed a sigh of sweet relief, cleaned your desk and grabbed your belongings. as soon as you grabbed your coat, the power went out resulting in your current situation.

“i can't believe i'm stuck in here with you.” felix grunts. he's sat on the floor just opposite you. his hair disheveled from running his hands through it numerous times with his tie and top button of his shirt loosened up.

“i guess that's the only thing we find in common.” you say sarcastically with a sarcastic smile. ever since felix joined the company, you never liked him. you hate how everyone pines over him. you hate how he looks so pretty and perfect everyday. you hate how he can do things better than you. how he can pick things up faster than you. you hate seeing your employees fuss over him. you hate how he always comes into work and is greeted with flowers or chocolates or even a letter of confession.

you hate how he politely turns people down. you just hate everything about him and to be stuck in work with him is a living nightmare for you both.

“why hasn't the back up generator started yet!” you groan, kicking your head back and straightening out your legs in an attempt to feel somewhat comfortable. but that's hard when you spend all day in nothing but work clothing. the appeal of heading home and changing into fuzzy pajamas sounds like bliss round about now.

“this fucking sucks.” felix sighs before standing up and looking out of the window. the snow is still heavily falling with the wind blowing it in various directions. people holding onto their hats, nuzzling their faces into their scarves as the bitter chill hits them.

“how long do you think we will be here?” you mumble. felix tuts.

“the fuck am i suppose to know.” 

“alright! jesus, don't get your panties in a twist felix. was just a simple question.” 

“has anyone told you how annoying you are?”

“several actually. why? am i annoying you?” you smirk. annoying felix is much more enjoyable than you thought.

“please yn.” he sighs before sitting back down on the floor. “just shut up.”

“have you always been like this?”

“like what?”

“a stuck up annoying brat that has no manners.”

“only when it comes to you.”

“mhm, thought so. because you seem so sweet and innocent with other people. especially when they pine over you.”

“it's called being polite and they don't pine!” felix unbuttons a few more buttons of his shirt before untying his tie and throwing it on the floor beside him. his body is heating up due to how hot it's getting in the workplace. you get a small peak at his honey skin as well as his collarbones. 

your heart thumbs a little against your chest. butterflies swim in your stomach and lay dormant in your groin. you frown to yourself.

surely your worst enemy isn't making you feel aroused?!

“oh please! yes felix. right away felix.” you mock before rolling your eyes. felix smirks.

“what can i say. i love it when my pets behave.” 

“pets?!” you look at him wide eyed before glaring. “you're insufferable. i hate you.”

felix smirks before leaning back against the wall. several minutes have passed by in silence with the exception of passing traffic and cars honking their horns. the office now feels like a sauna. the insufferable hot air hanging above your head and making it difficult for you to breathe.

your work clothes stick to your body, making you grimace and feel disgusting. felix has pushed his hair back with a headband, his brow coated in a thin layer of sweat as a few more buttons of his shirt have popped open.

you wish you could pop open a few more of your buttons but with the tops of your breasts daring to show, you chose not to. felix sits with his legs parted, one foot on the ground and leg bent which allows him to rest his arm on his knee. his head tilted to the side a little, lips parted and eyes closed. 

"so fucking hot.” he mumbles. you give him a small hum of agreement, fanning yourself with your hand.

several more minutes pass with you and felix not talking to one another. this allows you to admire him from afar. you're so used to seeing him prim and proper. hair neat and perfectly styled, not a strand out of place.

seeing him like this however, makes you feel a little hot and bothered. he looks different, feels different. your eyes travel up and down his body, taking in every detail you can see. you can't deny that he's a very handsome man with a unique beauty. his freckles being your favourite thing about him; but you'd never tell him that to his face.

“like what you see?” you look at felix as heat travels to your cheeks. he's smirking. you've been caught. you swallow and avert your gaze which makes felix laugh. “cute.”

you scoff, rolling your eyes. from the corner of your eyes, you see felix unbuckling the belt of his work pants. his eyes are on you. he's watching you; teasing you.

you suddenly feel vulnerable but you don't hate it. your body heats up, heart rate speeding up. you look at him, making the mistake of making eye contact with him. he smirks. 

he's got you right where he wants you.

“hey yn. why do you hate me so much?” he says with a pout. you frown. you want to look away, avoid the conversation but you can't. your body won't listen. it's like he has a hold on you, gripping onto you tightly whilst watching you slowly melt in the palm of his hands.

“i don't hate you.” you mumble. “i just hate the way you act.”

“how i act?”

“you're so nice to everyone. so caring and attentive. you let people down gently, even when you get showered with cards and confessions. even when you look so uncomfortable, you still remain polite and professional. i hate it. it makes me sick.”

“are you sure you hate me because of the way i act with others or because you hate that other people have my attention?” your eyes widen at the thought.

you open your mouth to speak but felix is quicker than you.

“i see you yn.” he purrs before standing up and walking to you. you swallow thickly as you follow his movements. “i see the way you look at me. i see the dirty looks you give people when they confess. i see the jealousy.” felix bends down between your open legs. he strokes your cheek gently, a soft whimper escapes your lips as your body burns hotter and hotter.

“you want me yn. you desire me.”

“bullshit.” you whisper.

“tell me yn. when was the last time you had sex?” 

“t-that has nothing to do with you!” you stutter. felix tuts and strokes your hair.

“but are you not pent up, darling? don't you want to feel the touch of another human? feel yourself get lost in the pleasure. i know you want me and i can provide that for you.”

“what…?” you stare at him in disbelief. he smirks.

“isn't this what you want?” he takes your hand, slowly guiding it down his body to his crotch. your head spins as you feel his cock through the layers of fabric.

he's hard.

“fuck no!” you stammer. you feel heat on your cheeks. you try to pull your hand away but he's strong. you can feel him grow; feel him throb.

“lets make a bet.” you look up at him. a glint of mischief in his eyes as he looks down at you.

“what kind of bet?” you don't know where this is going. judging by the look on his face, it can only end in disaster but oddly enough, you don't hate it? in fact, you're more inclined and drawn into him.

“if i can make you cum with just my mouth, you have to be my pet. obey my every command.”

“and if you lose?” 

“you can do whatever you want to me. i'll be at your beck and call. your pet, so to speak.” you chew your lip as you think it over. “or i can leave you alone.”

“excuse me?” 

“i know you hate me yn. you told me that before. if you win this bet, i will leave you alone and we shall act as though nothing happened. a simple caught up in the moment kinda thing.”

“i don't hate you, felix.” you whisper.

“you don't?” 

“of course not. but why propose this? why me? why not all those people that confessed and bought you stuff?”

“because i’m not interested in them. i’m interested in you! i have been from day one. as soon as i saw you, i was smitten. you're attractive yn and slowly, i became more and more smitten and interested in you.” 

felix's cheeks are bright red. he avoids your gaze and rubs the back of his neck shyly. you look at him in shock. lee felix has a school girl crush on you and it makes you feel strangely giddy and excited. 

“ok.” you grin. felix looks at you before letting out a sudden groan due to the fact that you squeezed his groin. “lets play. i’ve always wanted a pet.”

felix scoffs before removing your hand from his groin. he leans in close, his breath fanning against the shell of your ear. “just to let you know, i've been told i do great things with my mouth.” 

his voice is deep and sensual. purring and rippling along your skin. your core throbs with excitement, heart rate speeding up. you press your lips together in a thin line before scoffing and rolling your eyes.

��prove it, lee felix.” you challenge. he scoffs before pressing his lips against yours unexpectedly. your eyes widen in shock, mind failing to register what's happening. you don't move, not because you don't want to, but because you can't.

you feel felix smirking against your lips. his lips are unusually soft but that's to be expected with the amount of times you see him apply lip balm. felix nibbles on your bottom lip gently which is when your mind finally registers.

you hold onto his broad shoulders. eyes fluttering close as you reciprocate the kiss. you tilt your head to the side to allow more room, the kiss heating up and becoming more needy as time goes on.

it's soft but sensual. it feels natural, like you've both been wanting this for so long. felix's hands cup your cheeks. his palms feel so soft and tender. his skin is hot on your face. he slips his tongue between your lips unexpectedly which causes you to shiver and groan a little.

he tastes the inside of your mouth, tongues battling for dominance. all the while, his hands are gliding down your body and cupping your breasts through your work shirt. there, he squeezes and massages your soft breasts, kneading them as if they're bread dough.

he's not even doing much. just kissing and fondling your breasts but you feel like your body is on fire. you feel electrified. your core throbs with anticipation. the pit of your stomach tightening and butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

felix detaches from your lips to kiss your neck. he starts off tenderly before sucking the skin. you tilt your head to the side some more to allow access which allows felix to easily plant kisses on your neck as well as leave a trail of purple bruises behind.

“felix.” you sigh out his name softly. he hums against your neck as a form of acknowledgement before unbuttoning the remainder of the buttons of your work shirt. he's back to squeezing and massaging your breasts through your bra. his lips never leaving your neck.

you're burning. it hurts. you're aching with so much lust and need that it makes you feel uncomfortable. his touch is doing something to you. it feels magical in a way as you can slowly feel yourself melting right into the palm of his hands. 

you reach up to tangle your fingers in his hair and tug gently. you whisper his name softly which causes him to shiver.

“my name sounds so sweet yet so dirty on your tongue.” he growls against your neck.

“it does?” felix simply hums in response, too caught up in taking your shirt off and unclasping your bra from the back.

“i’ve heard my name many times but it sounds so sinful when it comes from you.” you blush, shocked and feeling bashful at the sudden confession. felix laughs softly and kisses your cheek gently before taking your shirt and bra off and throwing it beside you.

he swallows thickly. his adams apple bobbing in time with the swallows as he stares at your chest. your soft round breasts and perky nipples that are inviting him to touch, to lick and devour. he removes his own shirt, discarding it with your clothing.

you watch him dive in-between your breasts. your breath hitches in your throat as he caresses them softly in the palm of his hands, slowly getting rougher with each passing second. his mouth latches onto your nipples, sucking and licking them sloppily and getting your skin coated in his saliva.

the hot, humid air paired with his saliva hardens your nipples further. the tip of his tongue flicks on them, fingers rolling the buds. your shakily tug his hair gently, head kicking back and moaning his name softly. he peppers kisses on your skin, traveling up to your neck before kissing the valley between your breasts to then instantly attach himself to a nipple.

your underwear is feeling uncomfortable at this point. you don't know what to say or do. your head is foggy and you're moving on your own. it feels like it's not your body. you never thought you'd take your worst enemy on with a bet let alone this type of bet.

you know you're going to lose. the way his mouth is working on your breasts makes you ache with excitement and is a clear indication that what he said is true; he can do great things with his mouth.

“felix. need you.” you pant. he looks up at you through his lashes, a nipple still in his mouth as he sucks. “please..” 

he smirks and lets go of your nipple with a pop. “so shameless.” your cheeks and the back of your neck feel hot. you watch felix strip you of your work clothing, leaving you in just your panties.

he licks his lips hungrily, palming his erection through his trousers. he eyes your body, taking in every detail like a lion eyeing up its prey. you feel small and submissive. your core aching to be touched and throbbing with desire and need. you're sure by now that your panties are soaked with an embarrassing amount of arousal.

you feel his fingers gently brush up your inner thigh, tickling the skin and leaving goosebumps behind. you watch, breath hitching in your throat as he hooks his finger under the waistband and gently tugging.

“cute panties. all for me?” you scoff and roll your eyes.

“not everything i do is for you, felix. i’m not your pet.”

“not yet.” 

“what makes you think you will win?” you raise a brow as you watch him lean down and plant kisses on the lower half of your stomach just above the waistband of your panties. “clearly you don't know me that well.”

“clearly you seemed to have forgotten what i said before.” he peers at you through his lashes. “do i have to remind you again, mhm?”

you swallow and scoff, determined to keep up this tough facade, but you can feel it slowly crumbling. with each touch, each kiss and each word, your resolve is slowly crumbling away resulting in you becoming nothing but a hot mess in the palm of his hands, ready and waiting. 

“i can do great things with my mouth, yn.” he smirks as he repeats himself once again. your bottom lip becomes caught between your teeth as you watch felix grab the waistband of your panties with his teeth and slowly pull them down.

he pulls them down your legs, unhooking one side and letting them rest on one ankle. you part your legs slowly for him to which he raises his brow at.

“already behaving like a pet i see. i didn't even have to give you a command and you're already spreading your legs for me.”

“stop.. it's embarrassing.” you mumble shyly.

“no.” he mumbles back before resting on his stomach between your legs. he starts by planting soft kisses on your inner thigh, leaving behind bruises. “it’s hot.” 

you whimper as you watch him. his lips are so soft against your scorching hot skin. every kiss and suck he does, leaves you wanting more. your skin burns and reacts accordingly to his touch. his hair tickles your thigh, his nimble fingers caressing and squeezing the other. 

he reaches your core, looking at you as a way of saying “can i?” you simply nod and watch him lick his lips before eyeing your core. 

your skin is glistening with arousal. your clit swollen and folds slightly puffy. your core noticeably throbs. felix licks two fingers before rubbing them between your folds slowly. you press your lips together in a thin line as your slick coats his fingers up nicely. he uses your arousal to gently tap on your sensitive clit.

it's just a few gentle taps but it's enough to make your thighs shake a little and electric like pleasure to shoot up your spine. felix gives a low chuckle, amused by your reaction. he applies a bit more pressure to the taps, adding in a few small and slow circles. 

“you’re cheating!” you moan out softly. felix hums and tilts his head to the side in a questioning manner.

“am i?” 

“you said mouth.. this isn't your mouth. you didn't mention anything about fingers.”

“oh? did i not?” felix blinks a few times before shrugging. “oh well.” his fingers pick up in pace, rubbing quick circles on your swollen bud of nerves. your back arches slightly, words stuck in your throat as you watch him lean down and bury his face between your legs.

your thighs instantly shake and jerk. the feeling of his wet tongue pressing flat against your clit to replace his fingers sends a whole new feeling up and down your spine. his eyes flutter shut as he teases and sucks on your clit. the tip of his tongue feeling pointy as he flicks it along the bud.

you bite your lip hard, refusing to let out any sounds. but it builds and builds in the back of your throat. you feel yourself slowly melt and succumb to him and you're in awe of it. all he is doing is licking your clit like a cat licking milk but it feels amazing. you can't describe it but the way your body is feeling and responding to felix is embarrassing.

the built up moan is let free as you feel two of his fingers circle and tease your sopping hole. your arousal gathers on his fingers as he licks and sucks on your clit like a starved man. he teases your entrance before removing his fingers and moving his head lower down.

you watch him with beady eyes. his hands plant on your inner thighs, keeping them stretched wide apart as he licks a long, wet strip from your entrance to clit. your arousal gathers on his tongue, heightening his senses and satisfying his taste buds. he doesn't want to admit it but he can't deny that he loves the way you taste. his body is reacting on its own, his own mind slowly fogging over and becoming hazy.

he's teetering on the edge of becoming feral and it's only a matter of time.

he didn't think it was possible. felix has tasted many before and no one has made me respond, think or feel the way you do. is it because of the weird ‘i hate you’ type relationship that's making it even more exciting for him.

watching someone hold themselves proudly and sneer at everyone with jealousy that pines of him, slowly crumble and succumb to him in a matter of seconds. he loves it more than he likes to admit.

“f-felix..” his ears perk up as he looks at you. he swallows thickly at the sight of your glowing skin and your flushed cheeks. he groans deeply, a groan that ripples through your body and causes you to throb. 

“fuck.” he mumbles repeatedly to himself. his tongue laps at your entrance, lapping up any arousal that spills. it coats his tongue and fills him with greed. the more he tastes, the more he wants.

his cock throbs and twitches in his trousers. he wants relief – sweet sweet relief but he has to wait until the bet is fulfilled.

his tongue dives in and out of your pussy. his fingers digging into the skin of your thighs, leaving bruises. you reach down to tangle your hand into his hair. you tug at the strands, removing the headband from before. 

you moan his name like a symphony. you dont hide how much you want and need him, at this point it's pointless. the air around you both is so thick with lust and want, that it's suffocating and clear sign of the desire you both share for one another.

one hand on your thigh disappears and you feel fingers around your entrance again. felix is back on your clit, his face buried deep between your legs. he sucks, licks and spits on your cunt. his saliva and your arousal coating his chin and lips nicely.

as he caresses and plays with your clit, he slowly pushes one finger inside your tight entrance. you gasp at first, toes curling a little at the feeling of something foreign entering you; but you soon relax once his finger slowly pushes in and pulls out.

“relax.” he purrs. you do as instructed, allowing yourself to be completely consumed in the feeling. this makes it a tad bit easier for felix to finger you, your entrance slowly loosening and becoming wetter for him. “there we go. nice to know my pet can behave.”

“i’m not your p-pet.” you stutter.

“not yet.” he smirks between gently nibbling on your well stimulated clit. he slowly and gently inserts a second finger, hooking them against your walls and moving them slowly.

the whole stimulation is enough to make you cum. he's not moving at a pace you'd enjoy but it's making you feel foggy, like he has a spell on you.

you watch felix close his eyes and turn his attention on pleasuring you. his fingers pick up the pace and your body tingles with pleasure. your stomach dips and your hands are quick to pull his hair harshly. thighs shake, body feeling electrified and skin feeling like hot molten lava. your orgasm is fast approaching. 

it burns in the pit of your stomach. you feel dizzy with all the intense lust. you tighten around felix's fingers as well as throb. your cunt sounds wet and sloppy and is mixed in with the sounds of the many moans and groans from you and felix.

felix smirks against your cunt. hot breathy moans fan against your skin as he drives his fingers in and out of you fast, driving you closer and closer to your orgasm.

at first, you decided to act tough and see how long you could last. you didn't want to crumble and give felix the satisfaction of knowing he'd win. however, all rationality flew out of the window the moment you felt his mouth on you.

“felix. i-i can't!” you pant, desperately. he knows by the way you have a vice grip around his fingers. how your hips are bucking against his face and your walls fluttering around his fingers. 

felix just gives a simple and satisfying hum. he watches your eyes flutter shut. he feels his hair being tugged harshly at the roots. in one long breathy moan, your orgasm hits you.

you moan, shake and whimper. felix fingers you and sucks your clit throughout the process, helping to drive your orgasm out a little more. your walls flutter and pulse around his fingers as your thighs shake and threaten to close around his head. his digits get soaked in your arousal and you gently push him away by placing your hand on his forehead due to the sensitivity of your clit.

felix pulls away slowly with a smug look on his face. he kneels between your legs as he makes eye contact with you and sucks on his two fingers. he moans at the taste of your arousal and you feel your body burning up at the embarrassing, yet sexy, gesture.

“seems like i've won.” you roll your eyes.

“whatever.” you mumble. felix dislikes your tone and he grabs your face roughly and growls.

“that’s no way to speak to your master, pet.” you struggle to look away. your cheeks being smushed together for a second before he lets go and travels his hand down to your neck.

your breath hitches in your throat as he squeezes the sides slowly before tightening his grip slowly. your eyelids flutter, oxygen slowly depleting and making you feel dizzy and hazy.

with his free hand, he pulls down his trousers and underwear. he wraps his hand around his hot and throbbing cock and pumps himself a few times, letting out a few grunts.

he lets go of your neck and you feel the oxygen returning back to your lungs. felix swallows a little, his hand pumping him at an uncontrollable fast pace. 

“fuck..” his head dips and he swallows as he looks at your glistening cunt. he wants to fuck you so badly, the want and need making him feral. he squeezes your thigh as well as squeezing his cock at the base. his skin is hot against the palm of his hand, tip wet and leaking pre-cum. he throbs several times in his hand and his hips buck.

maybe it's the sight in front of you that drives you to do it but you lean back a little, legs spread wide as you use two fingers to part your labia. felix's eyes widen as he watches your entrance pulsate and throb; it looks so fucking welcoming.

“it’s ok.” you purr. “you can use me. i am your pet after all.”

“i don't… i don't have condoms.” he stutters.

“i'm on birth control. it's ok.” felix's rationality and common sense snaps. he grabs the base of his dick and gives your swollen and sensitive clit a few slaps with his length. your body jolts with each slap before feeling him rub his length up and down between your puffy folds.

felix hisses as his tip enters you, his thickness stretching you which causes you to hiss at the burn. he pushes half his length in slowly before stopping to give you time to adjust.

as he waits, he shakes. the tightness of your cunt grips around him makes it hard for him to maintain his composure (not like he had any left.) your walls feel gummy and hot with added wetness that coats and hugs his penis so deliciously.

you look up at him with doe eyes and nod. “please move.” you stutter.

felix also nods before slowly moving his hips. his shaft strokes your walls slowly and gently. your brows scrunch up a little due to you not being completely used to the stretch. felix reaches down and toys with your clit with the pad of his thumb slowly. he rubs slow circles on the swollen bud and the added stimulation helps as the pain subsides and pleasure takes over your body.

“f-fuck!” you moan out. you rest on your back, head tilted to the side. felix picks up the speed slowly, his head kicking back as deep and long moans erupt from the back of his throat. his mind slowly turns foggy, his body tingling with pleasure.

you feel so warm and snug around his cock. he dares push all his length in, bottoming out in you. your eyes widen a little but are quick to flutter close. felix is thrusting roughly and fast. the sounds of skin on skin and your arousal mixing together with the moans and groans.

the background becomes a distance and fuzzy sound. the sound of cars passing by and pedestrians humming in your ears. you're hyper aware of your body and how good you feel alongside felix's touch. his hands caressing your hips and thighs. fingers on your clit to toy with. 

“god i never knew you could feel this good around me.” he groans. you simply hum, your words drying up in the back of your throat.

felix holds onto your waist tightly to steady your body as he thrusts harder. your breast bounce with each thrust. your body screaming at you from pleasure. 

“ah ah! fuck, felix!” you babble. felix grins and leans over you, his forearms planting firmly by the side of your head.

“are you enjoying yourself, pet?” you look up at him and nod.

“yes. you feel good. mhm, so good. more, want more. i want to be your pet forever.” you shamelessly admit. felix swallows thickly before letting out a shaky and hot breath. he leans down and buries his face into the crook of your sweaty neck.

“be careful yn. your words are dangerous to me right now.” 

you pant heavily and reach up to tangle your fingers in his hair. your walls flutter around felix's length as his cock twitches a few times in you. his movements are sloppy and slow. the pit of his stomach tightening with each thrust.

felix feels so deep inside of you that he is stroking untouched territory. it's driving you insane and with your earlier orgasm, you're sensitive and your second orgasm is quickly approaching.

you tighten around felix, your stomach dipping and thighs shaking. you hold your breath and squeeze your eyes shut tightly. felix kneels back up, hands back on your hips as he resumes the fast and hard thrusts to help drive both of you closer to orgasm.

“cum!’ you choke out. your walls flutter around felix, thighs shaking as you moan loudly. it hits you hard, knocking the air out of your lungs and for you to hear a faint buzz in your ears. felix rubs your clit through your orgasm to help you, your arousal soaking the skin of his shaft.

you push away his hand gently as you come down. your body feels heavy, exhausted and sweaty. you lean up and rest your hands behind you to support your weight as you watch felix chase his orgasm.

his brows scrunch together. sweat drips down his temples as his hair sticks to his forehead and back of his neck. his grip on you is tight, leaving bruises behind. he opens his eyes slowly and groans, quickly pulling out and ejaculating on your breasts and stomach.

his hips bucks with each shot, hand around his penis as he pumps himself. his head flops to the side as he pants and moans. once calm, he opens his eyes and bites his lip.

“before you say anything, yes i know you said you're on birth control, but still. the appeal of seeing my pet cover in my cum is just hotter than i imagined.”

you look to the side to avoid his gaze as you slowly feel embarrassed and shy. right now, you want to go home, take a shower and go to bed. 

as if on qué, the lights in the office light up and the sound of the air conditioning buzzing away is a relief. you and felix look at each other triumphantly.

you can finally go home!

“hey, uhm–” you look up at felix as he fixes himself. he looks at you, his cheeks red and stroking the back of his neck.

“yes?”

“uhm.. do you perhaps want to come back to my place?” you raise your brow.

“why? want to go for round two?” you smirk as you watch his cheeks go even redder.

“n-no! i mean, well, maybe but that's not why i suggested it. you're probably sore and well, i did y’know–” he gestures at your breasts and stomach “i do feel a little responsible for you, so please come back to mine. you can use my shower and wash up. i can cook up something to eat and you can borrow some of my clothing for the night.”

“and where will i sleep?” 

“in my bed. i’ll sleep on the sofa.” your eyes widen a little. maybe you've had felix all wrong this whole time. something seems different about him right now, whether that be the adrenaline and hormones slowly calming down but he seems so gentleman-like.

“sure.” you shrug. “might as well take you up on that offer.” felix grins before helping you dress and stand back on your feet.

“please take good care of me, felix.”

“don’t worry yn. i always take good care of my pets.”

[sugar-softies]

Well I wrote it, here's the post for context

Food was hard to come by in the nether. It had always been a dangerous place, but raids from the overworld and war with the withers had left it near barren.

When a cure was found for zombification, tourists from the nether may have gone a bit overboard when they discovered overworld restaurants and shops. The shopkeeps and restaurant owners saw record breaking sales with gold tips as well as the most stressful dinner rushes of their lives. Meanwhile, after the dust settled in town, portal managers saw record breaking waistlines trying to squeeze back into the nether, often having to push on plump piglin backsides to help them get through.

It almost caused a famine, but well rewarded people with riches and provided them with an answer to a problem not long down the road...

"So... you just want us to... clean?" Mangalica asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Sort of, yeah." The nervous villager that had approached their small hunting party rubbed the back of his neck. "See, the thing is, we’ve had trouble with this new coven. They’ve been reshaping the environment using a magic no one really understands yet, and the more they change things the stronger they get- we just need someone to slow their progress at least while we figure out how to stop them.”

“I don’t get it.” Duroc, a young boar with a constantly flicking right ear, said. 

“It would be easier to show you,” the villager replied. “There’s a portal not far from here, if you’d just follow me.”

Mangalica was the leader, so the others looked to her for approval. Sensing a good payday or at least a chance to make nice with a nearby overworld settlement, she nodded and followed the villager.

As they stepped through the portal it became clear they weren’t above ground, but neither did it feel like a cave.

For starters it was brightly lit, and occasionally rainbows would shoot forth across the “sky” and illuminate the area beneath in a dozen hues. 

Mangalica took the first steps forward and gave a confused snort when her hooves brushed through something cold.

Snow? She guessed, but she was only half right.

“Welcome to the candy cavity,” the villager sighed, gesturing out over mountains of chocolate topped with ice cream snow and candy cane trees. 

“Candy?” Duroc’s jaw dropped. “It’s all candy?”

“Precisely.” The villager hid his hands in his sleeves as he folded his arms together. “We were hoping… well, not to be forward but… piglins eat, yes?”

“We sure do,” Tamworth, an older and larger boar with a chipped tusk, chuckled and picked up a handful of ice cream from the ground, giving it an experimental lick.

“We’ll pay you in gold blocks per chunk cleared of sweets.”

“How much gold?” Mangalica bent down to the villager’s height, causing him to sweat.

“I’m not authorized to negotiate that, but if you want to wait for the mayor-”

“Nope! We’re good!” Duroc gave a whoop of excitement before running and jumping off a cliff, doing a cannonball into a lake of grape soda. 

Mangalica snorted with amusement and patted the villager’s shoulder as she stepped around him. “Come check back in on us in… what do you sun-touched use? Days? Yeah. A few days.”

The villager watched the piglins as they set off and breathed a sigh of relief.

It was decided that they’d make quicker work of it if they split up, so Mangalica assigned everyone a quadrant and gave a stern warning to watch their pacing so as to avoid stomachaches.

“Not that there’s been a dessert yet a piglin can’t handle,” she said. “But something about this place is magic, don’t forget.”

Normally, everyone would have taken that warning very seriously, herself included, but… well…

It was all candy.

Duroc started off by the lake he’d first jumped into, and made merry work of breaking off lollipop reeds and sucking on them as he walked along the edge. When the sugar rush first started to hit he got a bit more eager, pulling up chocolate rock from the ground and munching away, before deciding to go for a swim. Some people might have worried about cramping but piglins were great eaters and swimmers despite there being no water in the nether. Besides, he didn’t really do much swimming.

What he did, was walk over to the sodafall and turn his snout upwards happily.

He guzzled from the sodafall, dunked his head and slurped from the lake, he drank soda until his head felt silly with sugar and then he waded back out of the lake with his stomach sloshing side to side. He groaned but smiled as the soda gurgled and popped inside him, and barely had time to lift a hoof to his mouth before belching. He was able to stifle the first, but the second took him so by surprise he found his head flying back as the burp erupted from his body, shaking the candy cane trees and sending a few cotton candy bats flying with alarm. 

“Oh god that’s so good.” He rubbed his belly and noticed idly the sweetish fish swimming in the lake he’d just left. 

A few more burps escaped his snout as he waddled back to the lake and tried to grab a few. It was ridiculously easy, it was as if these things either had no natural predators or simply didn’t care if they were eaten or not. He was shoving gummy fish into his mouth faster than he could catch his breath. 

“Nn… need… need a break…” he moaned after one last fish. 

He held his belly in his hooves as he wandered over to a candy cane tree, leaning against the trunk and sliding down into a seated position.

He meant to rest his belly, feeling a stomachache coming on, but glittering dust under the tree caught his eye. 

He lifted it with his hoof and gave it a lick, tasting mint. He couldn’t help but grab handfuls, greedily shoving them past his tusks. 

He soon realized his mistake as the mint hit the soda in his belly and began to fizz and bubble.

Once again, a burp shook the cave, reaching as far as Tamworth, who looked back over his shoulder with confusion before shrugging.

Tamworth was hiking up the nearby mountain, not yet beginning his feast. He was waiting for a good opportunity to begin, and honestly wasn’t really looking forward to the work of covering ground. 

A sudden giggle distracted him, and when he tried to find the source he eventually noticed a small gingerbread man no taller than his knee waving at him.

“Huh…” he smiled, tilting his head.

The gingerbread man beckoned him over and then started to run off. Tamworth, of course, followed.

He was surprised to find a whole gingerbread village, populated with more gingerbread people living in tiny homes decorated with icing and candy.

“Well, now I feel bad for eating it.” He broke a branch off a candy cane tree and sucked on it idly as the gingerbread people came to investigate him. 

Eventually, he noticed they were all trying to urge him in one direction, so he shrugged and let them guide him over to a throne built of marshmallow. 

He sank into it with a grateful sigh, his knees needing the rest.

He felt someone poke his arm and opened his eyes, seeing a gingerbread person holding a tray with an ice cream sundae on it. “Oh, why thank you.” he accepted it, lifting the sundae to his mouth like a drink and simply tossing it to the back of his throat.

The gingerbread people all oohed and aahed before nodding and running off. 

They came back one by one, each with some part of their candy environment which they offered to Tamworth.

“I like the hospitality here,” Tamworth chuckled.

As Tamworth dug into a feast for a king, Mangalica saw the rest of her sounder assigned to their positions. It took awhile for her to find her own station, and when she did she realized she wasn’t the only one looking to eat in that spot.

As she knelt by a stream and picked up a sweetish fish, a growl sounded from behind her. She turned to see a gummy bear just as big as she was, pawing the ground and baring its gelatin teeth. 

She smirked, reaching for her sword, but reconsidering. 

“Let’s go.” She instead got into a wrestling stance, meeting the bear with hooves and tusks as it charged at her.

She grappled with the beast, taking bites whenever she could. As she fought it became clear there was no killing this beast, only devouring it. It would keep attacking so long as it had a body to attack with.

She determinedly munched away, holding the bear in such a way as to avoid being slashed with somehow sharp jelly claws. Her stomach was strong but her stamina started to flag about halfway through, and she soon found herself on her back as she held the bear above herself.

She brought it closer and closer to her mouth, eating furiously until a sort of trance came over her, lifting only when she realized there was nothing left in her hooves.

She found herself laying there, covered in bits of gummy, her stomach distended and her belt snapped.

“Mm… that’s a good start, I’d say…” she rubbed her round belly, finding it taut to the touch with only the slightest give from the humble amount of pudge she’d started with.

And so it went on like that, each piglin finding a way to clear their assigned sector. Some suffered brain freezes from ice cream, others burped for hours after drinking up lakes of soda, but everyone pushed stalwartly on.

Duroc moaned, eyes rolling back as he stood under the sodafall- which was slowing to a trickle- his snout open and his stomach hanging down past his knees. No matter how careful and slow his movements were, it sloshed back and forth with each step and sent carbonation bubbling up his throat. He even burped in his sleep whenever he paused to take naps between gorging sessions.

Tamworth patted a gingerbread man on the head lazily and fondly as another gingerbread man climbed up his mountain of a belly to drop a platter of peanut brittle into his awaiting mouth. His jaw hurt from either hanging open or chewing, but the rest of his body had never felt more relaxed. He hadn’t moved in days, he hadn’t had to. The gingerbread villagers brought him food 24/7 and fed him even as he slept. 

Mangalica licked the end of a sword sized candy cane, further sharpening the point. The ground shook as a gum worm as long as fifteen ravagers standing in a line rose up from its burrow.

Her gut and breasts jiggled as she awaited it with an eager smirk. Her belly was growling, and so was the worm as it charged her. 

She was finding it much harder to move lately, her body weighed down constantly either with the weight she was packing on at an alarming rate, or just a belly stuffed full of sweets. Normally, she would have leapt up and plunged the sword into the beast’s head, but this time she lazily dropped to her knees and lifted the sword up, letting the worm impale itself as it leapt at her.

The beast fell dead to the ground, bleeding raspberry jam and jelly beans. 

She drooled as she lifted the gum worm’s head with both hooves and bit into it viciously.

The villager assigned to check in on the piglins gave them a week and a half, assuming they’d need plenty of time. He thought that when he came to check on them, they’d be maybe a quarter of the way done, so he was surprised when his feet hit deepslate instead of cake.

“Hello?” He lifted his torch, noticing remnants of dessert in the distance. Mostly it was the sundrops that had been left behind to keep the area lit, and it was by the light of the sundrops he found six piglins larger than… well, larger than any humanoid he’d ever seen.

Tamworth’s fat roll laden body was twice as big as the entire village by now, but still he kept his snout open as gingerbread men climbed up him step by squishy step to keep him fed, which was good because he could no longer stand under his own power to find food for himself.

Duroc was panting and gasping for breath, bracing himself against a cave wall as his belly dragged on the ground. He was trying so, so hard to bend down and lick up one last puddle of soda, but whenever his belly felt even a bit of pressure from bending over it caused a belch to stop him in his tracks, his eyes rolling back. One burp sent him backwards, falling onto his flabby ass, and he decided not to get back up after that.

Mangalica was finishing off another gum worm, slurping its tail down her throat with ease, a feat that would have been impossible when she first entered this cave. She’d grown to such a size eating the large sugary beasts of this land that she now stood four times as high as her sounderkin… or rather would have if she could stand. You couldn’t even see her hooves under the mass of jiggling fat she was constantly massaging with her hoof-hand- although her hoof only really reached as far as halfway down one of her breasts, and her arms were so fat she couldn’t bend or stretch them far enough to even attempt reaching lower.

“Well… I see this was a successful mission,” the villager said in awe. “Not to worry, we’ll ask another sounder to take over the next location, and have experts come here to help you shed all that weight.”

“What?” Mangalica panted. “No, no, just roll us over to the next one and we’ll take it from there.”

The rest of the piglins all cheered, and in unison paused their cheer as half of them struggled to catch their breath after the arduous exercise of lifting their fat arms and pudgy fists to the sky and the other half erupted into wall shaking burps that echoed all the way up to the surface.

[yazzydream]

The flowers on the cover of vol. 26

The flowers on Volume 26 appear to be snow camellias (camellia rusticana), or yuki-tsubaki (雪椿, ユキツバキ) in Japanese.

[Snow camellias] naturally occurs in areas of heavy snowfall at altitudes ranging from 1,100 metres (3,500 ft) down to 120 metres (400 ft) on sloping land under deciduous beech trees in the mountain regions to the north of the main island of Honshu and facing the Sea of Japan. [x]

I was trying to find hanakotoba specifically for pink snow camellias but that specific combination turns out to be difficult to find. In thinking about it, it may just be that Gege painted the flowers a little pinker than intended considering his minor color blindness (as evidenced by Yuji's various shades of blonde-pink hair in his color art). Especially since in the photos I found of snow camellias they're close to shades of vivid dark pink-red. The colors on the cover are also tinted blue so I wouldn't be surprised if that's another factor for why the flowers are probably pinker than they would've been.

...I just don't think the hanakotoba for regular pink camellias really fit Gojo. ("modest/humble beauty," "modest/humble love," and "modest/discreet") This is my own bias. Lol.

However, I did find these neat tidbits from this site that I liked, so I'm sharing it here.

Considering Gojo's position in not just Jujutsu society, but Japanese society (considering Jujutsu is covered up by the Japanese government), I really liked this bit about how it's representative of Japan.

This speaks for itself. And honestly, I think it's this reason that would've caught Gege's attention the most. Like, ignoring everything else about the flower, I think he'd have chosen it just for this meaning. (Btw, a "seasonal word", kigo, is required in traditional JP poetry to be considered a poem.)

Now, these are just fun. It was in response to whether camellias are considered lucky or not, and the answer to that is pretty much, both. Depends on who you ask, I guess. Lol.

Sacred trees that ward off evil spirits, huh... It reminds me of the connection between the Six Eyes and Tengen again.

The imagery of the camellia head falling off also reminds me of when we thought Gojo's head would go flying during Sukuna's earlier attack. I mean... The top part of him did eventually split off though, so it's not entirely inaccurate.

*Edit 9/24: Turns out they're camellia sasanqua.

[olivia091108]

Human popsicle

Summary:y/n is apart of wildboyz and thsi epsode they’re shooting in Antarctica

Word count:1245

Pairing:steve o x reader

The travel was worth it once we got off the boat I looked around and I saw white mountains it looked like a winter wonderland it was gorgeous. While we’re here we’re renting a small house 10 minutes from the town.

We all go and find our rooms I chose one with a huge window obviously and started unpacking when I first packed I thought that these clothes would keep me warm but I might need to go into town and get some warmer clothes.

After unpacking me and Chris go into town to get some things. I go to a shop and get this really cute outfit of white earmuffs and a white puffer jacket with matching snow boots and a couple more clothes while Chris got some food for us.

We all had some food before sitting around and getting told the plan for tomorrow. We aren’t filming tomorrow so we are going to ski and probably just chill before we have to do the crazy stunts the following day.

I was getting pretty tired so I said goodnight to everyone and went up to my room and tried to get a good night sleep.

TIME SKIP

Yesterday I was boiling i layered my clothes so I was wearing a vest a top a hoodie and the jacket and even after taking off my jacket and top I was still hot so today I just decided to wear just my bra and knickers underneath.

We are going to the beach wich I didn’t even know they had here and we were messing about and then we saw some penguins that were so cute but I did get a bit scared when they got too close. Steve o got bit on the thigh by one of them for a stunt wich looked like it hurt and it was probably worse because of the cold.

We were on the boat and It was my turn for my stunt where I jump into the water and swim for as long as I can.they checked the water and it was 4 degrees. Normally Chris would be wearing his life guard bikini but it’s too cold he said so I guess if I drown then I won’t be saved by him.

I got my scuba goggles on and took off my clothes so I was wearing just my underwear and I immediately wanted to run and sit by a fire but I had to do this first. I put on some flippers and went to the edge of the boat and the safety manager started to explain what could go wrong and what I would do.

I tried to listen and I know I should of but I couldn’t keep my eyes off Steve o he was wrapped up in his coat and had a cigarette hanging from his lips and every now and then he would bring his shakey hands up to it and take it out.

“Y/n we need to get the cameras right and Steve o fix her Camera while we get ready.”Jeff said passing him the small Camrea to clip on to my bra.

“God y/n I don’t know how your not an icicle already I’m cold just looking at you”

“Oh believe me I am but I’m gonna just get in and just try and get it over with.” Steve o clips on the Camera easily even with his shakey hands. He then started to run his hands up and down my arms in a sweet attempt to warm me up.

“Ok ready y/n?”jeff asked “mhm” “ok go on” I slapped myslef round the face to amo myslef up before turning to the Camera

“I’m y/n and this is human popsicle” I pull the goggles over my face and fall backwards off the boat and at first you didn’t really feel the cold until it felt like little needles going into me and before I could even register anymore cold something out the corner of my eyes swam past.

I thought I was done for and a whale was going to swallow me whole but when I turn around I see a seal and it swam towards me and circled my left leg I would have lived to stay down there forever but I needed some air.

I break the surface and lift my goggles up So I can see properly and Jeff and everyone is peering over the side of the boat.

“You alright y/n”jeff asks looking worried

“I’m doing great I even made a friend down there” as if on cue the seal swam up and rested itself on my chest and having a break from swimming

“Your like a seal whisperer” Chris says excitedly

“I want to keep it” I stroke its wet fur and keel myself up before the cold hits me like a moving truck. I start swimming over to the ladder and the seal slowly gets off my chest and floats on the salty water.

As soon as I’m standing on the boat Steve o rushes over with a thick towel and wraps it round me and pulls me into his side. And one of the cameras come right up in my face

“How was the swim?”

“Cold”I manage to say with my chattering lips. We start driving the boat back and I stay close to Steve o and use him to get warm and Chris on the other side of him. Just as we’re getting closer to shore I slip on my jacket and trousers which help to cover me up.

“Omg look at my hair.” I shout out as I walk back over to Chris and Steve o.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Its fucking frozen”I flip my head around and my hair stays stuck in the same position like Lego.

Chris leave over and scratches it and it sounds like a weird asmr thing and after a while he starts trying to make music using my hair as a drum. As soon as we get into the house I run to the shower and have a boiling shower and hope that my hair won’t fall out.

I don’t know how long I was in there but I heard banging on the door but their voice was all muffled. I turn off the shower wrap myself with the towel and unlock the door and the first thing I see is Steve o staring down at me.

“I get you swam in like freezing water but I had to wait in the freezing cold and your gonna waste all the hot water y/n”he whines and he’s still wearing his coat but I still feel really cold.

“Then join me” his face drops and he then starts to laugh “wait your not serious are you?”

“Im dead serious Steve you coming or what?”i walk back into the shower dropping my towel and climbing in to engulf myself in the warm water.

Steve o then slides the shower curtain open before staring down at my body then back to my face and steps in behind me. I turn to face him and god he looks hot for someone who is complaining about how cold they are

“Did you lock the door?”

Sorry I didn’t post for a few days I’ve been really busy and also I’m running out of ideas I’m always here for a request

-live

[mysticstarlightduck]

Personality Through Quotes

Thanks for the tag @kaylinalexanderbooks!!! (here)

MY QUOTE IS: A quote about a weird habit they/someone else has.

YOUR QUOTE IS: A quote about your character's feelings about their world's government

Corah - "Hmm. Sometimes I tend to wake up in the middle of the night to stare at the stars. I don't know why, but it's very calming. I like to count out all the constellation Dad has taught me about and the tales about each one, and then I try to make up new ones until the stories get more and more chaotic and outlandish with each new one and then I go back to sleep."

Arammys - "I would say my weird habit is that, from time to time, I try making up stories in my mind, to replace the memories I don't have, and its come to the point that that habit's more like an intrusive thought rather than anything else and it concerns me. Like, I'll see someone on the street and immediatelly start imagining a whole backstory for how we might've met before and how they're my former best friend turned rival turned acquaintance - and the next thing I know I forgot what I was doing - But I'm normal, right? That's totally normal, right?"

Eidan - "I collect stuff! Genuinely. There's no real pattern to it and I don't really remember why I started. It's not an obsession or anything, just a hobby to distract me from stuff that might upset me. I'll just be walking down the riverbed and be like 'ooh that's a neat shell' and pick it up and add it to The Collection. I'll walk through the market and see a silk ribbon necklace on sale and I'll buy it and guess what, add it to The Collection. Anything that really stands out to me in some way makes it to my collection - but I have to really, really like the thing in order for it to be chosen. My collection of assorted knick knacks is as random as it is carefully curated. (smiles, actually proud of his collection)"

Nimwen - "Oh, neat! Not my weird habit, but my brother's - when he is upset he starts counting in Syllen, which is a local dialect from the city where we were born which nobody - except scholars and really really specific groups of people - really uses anymore. He also worries a lot and used to talk in his sleep - not anything concerning, just gibberish, but enough to wake me up every five minutes until I got used to it."

Rin - "People say I'm weird because I eat bugs and rodents. I don't think that's weird - they don't think it's weird for birds to eat those things, and my species is basically just a humanoid bird (okay, I'm an avian fey to be precise). Insects and rodents are a natural part of my diet, and people are the ones who need to stop being so sensitive to everything I do. Hey, is that a cricket?"

Tomasa - "Oh, my turn, my turn! I like to sing at the top of my lungs while bathing, even if I am admiteddly a bit off key I am having fun. I also like to go to taverns where no one knows anything about me and try to challenge the biggest dude in the place to a drinking contest! The look on their faces when I win is always priceless."

Masen - "Does using the bardic talents I hoped to one day be famous for to steal from my audience because I've had to become a thief instead count as a weird habit? That's not a rhetoric question, does it? I really wanna know, dude!"

Kyran - "I'm not really the kind of person who has 'weird habits', but if you really want to know... some of my inventions aren't exactly that legal, and they do have a tendency to... explode? But only on occasion, and sometimes to my favor, but you didn't hear it from me and you don't have any proof to tell anyone you heard this."

Maryon - "I like climbing to the roof of the towers of the castles - it's a beautiful and breathtaking view. I can see my whole city from there, covered in beautiful snow and blue ice, and the mountains of Tirawen are a small dot on the horizon. Occasionally, I'll see the outline of a dragon flying in the distance! I don't think it's a 'weird' habit, but it is certainly a risky one. I sometimes do this for fun, other times to escape from my duties when I want some peace and quite, haha"

Florynce - "I talk to the trees - and they whisper back at me! So do the flowers and the rocks and the rivers and the birds, and all of the forest! It says my blood runs through it."

Leora - "Don't tell anyone, or my reputation as the fearless underground leader might be at risk. But I still have my childhood plush toy and I can only sleep if I have it on my bed. It brings me comfort in a way little else does."

Elias - "Ooh, I have one hell of a list of weird quirks curated and stored straight from my brothers' childhood - Masen used to sleepwalk, until he one day he hit a wall and woke everyone in the house but not himself, Kyran one time got into an argument with an old lady at the market because they couldn't decide whether or not the scarf a vendor was selling was lilac or purple and turns out it was neither because it was pink, Masen used to cry whenever he heard a sad story involving dogs, Kyran said he hated the sea but turns out he didn't want to admit he was scared of sea monsters - want me to keep going? Because I can."

Tagging (gently, no pressure):@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @inky-duchess @late-to-the-fandom, @eccaiia @willtheweaver @littleladymab @cabbojage @lassiesandiego @little-peril-stories @oh-no-another-idea @thepeculiarbird @rickie-the-storyteller @crowandmoonwriting @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @gummybugg @forthesanityofstorytellers @doublegoblin @aalinaaaaaa @starlit-hopes-and-dreams @elshells @clairelsonao3 @anyablackwood @tabswrites @illarian-rambling and OPEN TAG

[commanderauri-art]

Two pining idiots stuck inside during a blizzard with one bed? What could go wrong?

“You sure the Raven couldn’t have dropped us off closer to the settlement?” Auri called out to her companion over the howling winds. She tucked her chin even further into the scarf wrapped tightly around her neck, eyes squinting out through her visor-like goggles to survey their surroundings.

“Unfortunately, no. Wind’s too strong the closer we get to the top of the mountain,” came Delta team’s tech head. He was two steps ahead of her and similarly outfitted with his shoulders hunched against the cold. A gust of wind snapped over the pair, jerking back the fur hood Auri had shoved over head. Her short hair whipped around for a few seconds before she finally pulled it back into place, shoving errant strands out of her face in the process. “Plus a chopper would’ve alerted the Locust to the Stranded’s location. It’s one of the few they don’t really know about and their village leader wants to keep it that way. We’re lucky she even granted us an audience.” The wind carried his short bark of laughter back to her.

“Fair enough, I suppose,” the other soldier answered as she readjusted her pack on her shoulders, redistributing the weight. They both were carrying additional ammo, food, water, contraceptive needs and whatnot on top of their personal necessities in order to trade with the Stranded leader for the items the COG was limited on. Plus, Baird did say there was a hidden cache of supplies somewhere up here they could use as well. Bartering with the Stranded, while unpleasant as some of the men and women considered the battered military organization to be fascist, was an unfortunate necessity and would buy the Gears a token or two of gratitude.

Baird paused briefly to consult their map then their snowy location. A chill ran down his back and he shuddered hard before upping his armor’s thermals.

“I know it’s already a bit too late for it but I seriously couldn’t have worn my armor up here?” Auri asked as she stood by him and flexed her fingers in an attempt to get rid of the cold, grimacing at the pain; all seemed to be accounted for.

“Stranded already don’t care for us as it is,” came the reply. “Okay… If I’m reading this right, we’ve got maybe another hour or two before we reach their walls. Jack, you still good, buddy?” A little mechanical beep sounded off to their right as the little bot briefly de-cloaked. Only Baird, and a select few others, could really decipher the clicks, beeps and whistles Jack made. “Good. Just stay hidden for now, alright? Last thing we need is for some Stranded asshole to try and scrap ya. Now, your suit?” He tossed a look back at his companion and hooked a gloved thumb back at his chest plate. “Uh, we had a hard time figuring out who and, namely, what you were. Some backwater dickhead sees you marching up in here dressed like that and he’ll shoot first, riling up the whole village before anything else.” The Spartan grimaced as Baird continued. “Granted, some fusspot might still do that seeing us COG marching up to their gates but at least they’re familiar with us.”

“Alright. Guess you’re not wrong there. I just wish it wasn’t so damned cold.” She fervently rubbed her gloved hands together before tucking them back under her armpits.

“Just turn up the dial for your thermals. Should take the worst of it off.”

“I did about an hour ago and it’s still the same.”

Baird turned back to look at her, brows furrowing behind his goggles as he trudged through the snow to examine her gear. After shucking off her backpack, he began fiddling with the back piece of her chest plating, grumbling quietly to himself for a minute when he finally cursed loud enough to be heard over the wind.

“What’s wrong?” Auri asked, looking over her shoulder at him as Baird reset the plating and pulled his hood closer over his head. “They didn’t give me crap armor, did they?” She kept her tone light but her stomach dropped a little at a look from her companion.

“They’re a bunch of frigging dumbasses. I told them to check everything over before we left! Why does nobody listen to me? Ever?” He ran a hand over his lenses, wiping them free of snow, and crossed his arms as the Spartan shouldered her pack again.

“It’s not that far to the settlement, is it?” she finally asked after a moment’s pause. “If it is… Are there any other shelters we could stay in overnight?”

“No. Not from what I can remember of the area, no,” came his reply as Baird started up their trek once more. “Come on. You still got feeling in your hands and feet? Good. We’re maybe two hours out at the most. Soon as we get there and speak with the Stranded leader, we’ll get you somewhere warm. If they don’t have heaters, I can rig something up or we’ve always got fire.” Even under all that snow gear, Auri could pick up the lopsided grin he threw her way. “Keep me posted if you start gettin’ any colder. Last thing we need right now is frostbite.”

“Or hypothermia. Yeah, no. I kind of like having all my fingers and toes, thank you very much.”

“Hypothermia’s a bitch to deal with,” Baird replied as the Four began walking again. As she passed him, Baird had reached out with a hand and settled it on her lower back without realizing it; it was as if he was trying to keep her closer to him. Perhaps as to not lose track of her? Right as they both noticed, Baird dropped his arm quickly to his side, muttering a quiet apology as he picked up his pace. Auri shot him a questioning look but he remained silent. Sure, when they’d initially met up, Baird had rubbed her the wrong way. He was equal parts snarky, sarcastic and an asshole and when she had been confined to the Sovereign, he didn’t care to take over babysitting duty when it was his turn. Thank god that all ended when it did.

As the weeks went on, even when the commander no longer needed someone to escort her throughout the ship, Baird still sought out her company. He was still his same asshole self to a point. He didn’t try pushing her buttons like he had within that first month she was aboard the ship and they actually ended up having some pretty decent conversations without getting on each other’s nerves too much. Auri might’ve been reading a bit too much into it but she could’ve sworn that, during their last few talks, he’d actually been trying to flirt with her. Awkwardly. It was sweet though. She did try to puzzle it all out and getting any sort of answer from the tech was like pulling teeth. Baird was rather evasive when he wanted to be and she eventually let it be, at least for now, and they continued to flirt a bit back and forth ever since.

Until this mission. Auri joined up with him mainly to try and figure out if he was just pulling her leg or if this back and forth they’d been engaging in could potentially turn into something more. Did she even want that? Did he, with her current situation? They had been getting with the remaining scientists on Sovereign in an attempt to recreate the portal network that had dumped the Spartan onto Sera to no avail. If there was really a possibility that her stay here could become permanent, would she still pursue Damon? As the pair fell into silence, those thoughts assaulted her mind almost as hard as the snow. She hadn’t even realized her pace had slowed until Baird had stopped about twenty feet ahead of her and called out her name. The Gear’s voice jolted her from her stupor and she picked up her pace, cupping her hands in front of her mouth and blew on them.

The Four waved off the concerned look Baird shot her and hunched her shoulders down against the wind as it kicked up flurries of snow in its wake. Her layers of clothes underneath the borrowed armor did what it could to push back the biting cold but she could feel it starting to really seep in. They needed to get to the village and soon.

——

Nearly two hours had passed since the pair had last spoken with each other for an extended period. Every so often, Baird checked in with her, keeping the Spartan consistently by his side as he kept consulting the map and notes stored on the brace on his forearm.

“Alright. We should be getting close,” he announced, voice muffled by his scarf. He tucked the thing back in around his neck as the wind threatened to run away with it. “Keep an eye out for a pair of watchtowers towering over the tree line. That’ll take us right to the gates.”

“Ab-b-bout d-d-damned time,” the Spartan said through her chattering teeth. Damn it, she was cold. Auri kept her arms wrapped around her middle as Baird looped an arm through her elbow so she wouldn’t fall too far behind. “Damon. We-we seriously…. need to g-get inside.” She saw his head turn sharply in her direction at the use of his first name, something Auri didn’t do often. When she did, Baird knew something serious was going on.

“Stick with me. I think I see one of the towers… Okay. Yeah. Just through the trees, c’mon. It’s not much further,” he replied, tugging her along. The Four kept her head down, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other that she nearly stumbled in the knee deep snow when Baird pulled her to a halt. That’s when she looked up. Before them stood two wooden guard posts at least thirty feet tall. They had been reinforced by bits of scrap metal and barbed wire. A ladder could be seen on the right side of both towers and sitting in post were two guards in one and one in the other. All three were bundled up tightly to ward off the harsh weather.

A man, the voice confirmed it, leaned over the edge.”State yer business, Gear, and get on with it,” he called out.

“We’re here to speak with your village leader, Allyson. We’d spoken over the wire a few weeks back, looking to trade supplies? Ring any bells?” Baird yelled up to them.

The two guards shared a look as the third lazily rested what looked to be a Retro Lancer on top of the waist high wall that surrounded their post. “Names?” the second guard asked in an annoyed tone.

“Seriously? Alright, fine. Damon Baird and Rachel Auri. If you don’t believe me, ask your fearless chieftain. She knows we’re coming and we’ve gotta get inside. My partner’s about to freeze her ass off.” Baird hooked a thumb over at the Spartan.

“Keep bitchin’ at us and we’ll leave you out here overnight,” the second yelled back as the third guard consulted a battered clipboard.

“Let ‘em in,” the third said after a few seconds. “Got their names right here.”

“You sure, Jaxon?” the first guard asked. The third guard, Jaxon, nodded and gestured to someone behind the gate. Moments later, the wide doors creaked and groaned open, pushing the snow aside in the process.

“Alright, you two, you’re good to head in. Allyson’s off to the left next to the hospital. No funny business, got it?” Jaxon warned, eyeing the both of them.

“Yeah, yeah. Wouldn’t dream of it,” Baird replied in a dismissive voice.

“Baird,” Auri said in a low voice, drawing the first syllable, as they proceeded inside.

“What? Why you giving me that look? I’m not gonna start a fight with those dickheads. Wouldn’t be worth it anyways,” he shot back. The wind died down significantly as the gate shut close behind them. Sure enough, there was the hospital, if you could even call the three story ramshackle house with a medical logo on the front that. And right next to it was a one story little office building. The windows had been boarded up, the glass long since broken. The door swung open wide and out strode a tall woman dressed up in furs and leathers and she was making a beeline right for them. That had to be their village leader. And she didn’t look too pleased to see them. A pair of guards escorted her, dressed just like the ones in the watchtowers outside only with a little more armor. Baird had since dropped his arm from around Auri and pulled his scarf down from the lower half of his face to give the woman a half smile.

“You must be the village chieftain here. Allyson, right?”

“You’re late,” their leader said, skipping the introduction as she pursed her lips together, staring Baird down. Up close, Auri finally got a better look at her. Allyson had long red hair that had been pulled into a braid down her back with strands of gray dotting her scalp, the only real indicator of her age. Her face was covered in freckles that had faded a bit over time and a nasty looking scar wound itself from her right temple down to her jawline. Allyson’s green-blue eyes flicked over to the Spartan who stared right back at the woman.

“Well, apologies, ma’am, for the delay,” Baird replied sarcastically, drawing the leader’s attention back to him as Auri began to shiver beneath her clothes. “We would’ve been here a bit sooner but with, y’know, this winter storm hitting and also not wanting to draw Locust to the Raven, and subsequently to your village if we flew directly here, we were bound to be a little late. We’re fine, by the way. Thanks for asking.” He swung his pack around and dropped it onto the snow building up around their ankles. The guards flanking the village leader immediately brought their rifles up to bear as Baird began to unzip the front pocket. Auri stepped a bit closer to him, a hand going to the sidearm at her hip.

“You can call off your attack dogs,” Baird said, nonplussed about their situation. The two exchanged looks with one another as Allyson shifted her weight onto her other foot, a hand subtly brushing back the edge of her fur coat to reveal a serrated blade on her belt. Baird paused in his ministrations to finally look up at the woman in front of him, eyes dropping to the knife’s handle briefly then back up to her gaze. “You keep threatening us and you won’t get the verification code to the supply cache we’ve got hidden in the mountain here.”

“What’s to stop us from just killin’ you and takin’ it?” snarked one of the guards.

“Blake!” Allyson snapped off, whipping around to silence the man. Her braid had flung over her shoulder in the process, quick as a snake. Blake backed off eventually as Allyson turned back around and tilted her head at Baird who had since dropped into a low crouch behind his pack as he rummaged around the inside. “What is there to stop us from just taking it from you and leaving you to bleed out?” She said it so nonchalantly it was like she was asking about the weather. Auri casually rested her palm against the butt of her pistol, gripping it as she braced for a potential fight.

“Eh, well, not much save for the fact that the code’s right up in here. And that you don’t have the location,” came Baird’s reply. The Spartan, not wanting to take her eyes off the trio for long, glanced down at him in time to see Baird tap his right temple with a gloved finger as he squinted up at the chieftain. “You kill me, you lose access to a lot of supplies that could see your people through the end of winter. Maybe even into spring, if you’re lucky. I know there are other villages around here but without the proper equipment or vehicles, it’d be near impossible to get to them in order to broker a trade and all that happy horse crap.”

A twitching muscle in Allyson’s face gave away the fury hidden in the woman’s expression. “Fine,” she said after a few tense moments. “We’ll proceed as planned and once we’re done here, you lead us to the supply cache and be on your way.”

“Uh, gonna have to get a rain check on that last bit.” Baird dug out the containers and vacuumed-sealed bags they had packed specifically for this occasion and handed them over, motioning to the Four to follow suit. “My friend here has the beginnings of hypothermia. We need to stay the night. We can head out in the morning once she thaws and gets checked by a medical professional.” If their leader wasn’t pissed off before she was now. Allyson looked back to Auri, giving the commander a quick once over.

“Your… friend,” she spat out, “looks fine.” Now that was bullshit. Even despite the multiple layers blanketing Auri’s body, anyone could tell she was shaking up a storm.

“Ah, y’see. That’s where you’re wrong.” Baird shook a finger at Allyson who looked like she was about to spit fire. “We were high up on the mountain and out of COMM range by the time we found out her suit’s thermals weren’t operating at full capacity. We were already on the way and I kinda have this feeling you wouldn’t have liked for us to reschedule this little meeting of ours.”

Allyson’s cold gaze bounced from Baird to Auri and back again, small clouds of steam puffing out from her nose, before she held up her index finger. “One night. You stay one night, COG, and when morning comes, first light, you take us to the supply cache. Blake can show you to a vacant home. It should contain everything you need.”

In layman’s terms, “It should have everything to keep you inside and out from under my feet.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Baird threw another sarcastic smile her way but Allyson had already spun on her heels to head back into her office, her remaining guard carting off the supplies. No doubt they were going to inspect everything for potential damage or trackers.

“Alright, get a move on, you two,” Blake grunted as the pair shouldered their packs again, Auri with some difficulty as she fought against the cold. Baird kept close to her side as they followed the guard down a long, wide avenue to the far end of the street. They passed by several shops, most had already been shut down against the storm. One, what looked to be a small soup kitchen of sorts, had a door open and Auri could feel the warmth radiating out to greet them. She slowed down and nearly came to stop outside the door before she was being ushered away by Allyson’s personal guard.

“Ey, Blake!” called out a woman as they got maybe three steps away. “What’re you doing dragging this poor girl away for?”

“Chieftain’s order, Darla. They ain’t stayin’ long. They’re Gears. You don’ need to be wastin’ yer food on them,” Blake countered as Auri shook her arm from his grip. Darla, a stocky woman of about fifty with a salt and pepper braid thrown over one shoulder, clucked her tongue at that as she pulled her patched winter coat tightly around her body.

“Don’t you give me that crap, Blake Donnelly,” Darla replied, glaring at the man who seemed to have lost his spine suddenly. Satisfied with his response, Darla turned to the Spartan and Gear. “Dear. You two are half frozen stiff. Which house are they staying at Blake?”

“Darla, you don’ have to-“

“Which. House.”

He caved easily. “Last one on this stretch ‘ere. Black door. ‘Appy now? Can we go?” If she wasn’t so cold, Auri would’ve laughed. The man sounded like a petulant child.

“I’ll send some warm food and drink over to last you both through the night. I know some folks here,” Darla paused to shoot the guard another harsh look, “aren’t exactly pleased to see COG wandering behind our gates but you people are offering to trade with us so it’s only fair you at least get a warm meal or two out of it.”

“Thank you,” Auri replied as Darla reached out to grasp the younger woman’s hand and gave it a friendly squeeze.

“Of course, sweetheart. I’ll also have someone run you additional blankets we keep in the back for just such occasions. Each house should contain a heater or two. If there isn’t one or if they’re not working, ask Danny. He’ll be on your left side, green door. Tell him I sent ya if he asks and he should help out.” Darla gave them both a genuine smile which faded as she looked back at Blake. “Now you may go. And if I hear you or any of the other boys have given them trouble…”

“You won’t. God…” Blake scoffed as he redirected the two soldiers back onto their original while Darla stepped back inside. “Christ, I swear, Allyson ain’t the one in charge most times. It’s that friggin’ woman and-“ The man quickly caught himself when he realized what company he was in. “Don’t say a damned word. You both heard nothin’.”

Baird chuckled to himself and shook his head. “Right. We’re just a pair of dumb Gears, Chief. We heard absolutely nothing at all.”

——

Blake dumped the pair off quickly in front of the old house, unlocking the front door before stepping away. “Asshole could’ve just left us the key,” Baird grumbled to himself as he grabbed hold of the knob and turned it only for the door to catch in the frame. “Oh. Come on. Seriously?” The Gear gritted his teeth and, with one hand still wrapped around the frozen door knob, threw his shoulder into the door itself. It took two more tries before it finally swung open, nearly spilling Baird into the entryway and onto his ass. “O-kay. Maybe we won’t need the key. It should lock from the inside and if we need to do that every time we have to open the door, that should be enough of a warning. Come on.” He ushered the Four indoors and all but slammed the door shut behind them. It was a few degrees warmer inside but not by much. Wind could be heard whistling through the cracks in the windows and the entire first floor was completely bare save for a pair of twin mattresses shoved together and pushed up into a corner of the living room with a bunch of old blankets piled on top.

“Alright. Jack, make sure this place is secure as can be. At least for the night. I’m gonna go find those heaters.” Baird knocked his boots against one wall in an attempt to knock off the ice that had accumulated there but they both still managed to track in a bunch of snow. He removed his gloves, stuffing them in a pocket, as he rubbed his palms together and breathed on them to get the blood flowing. The Spartan had since dropped her pack off in a corner near the makeshift bed and shoved back her hood and goggles. Her cheeks were bright pink from the cold and her teeth were chattering loudly. Baird paused for a moment to look over in her direction and his lips thinned.

“Okay. I… don’t know how best to say this so I’m just gonna come out and say it,” he began tentatively. Auri turned around to face the Gear, her brows pulling together in a silent question. “I’m… gonna need you to strip.” The words came out in a rush and Baird could feel heat rising in his face out of mild embarrassment. It took a second for his words to register in the woman’s head and her eyes widened.

“Wait. What?” Auri’s mouth dropped open then shut close with an audible click.

“I know. Alright. That came out wrong. Okay, look. You need to get out of your wet clothes and-“

“I know how hypothermia works, Damon,” she snarked at him. At least she wasn’t stammering much right now. Being out of the wind and snow worked wonders on her but she was still too damned cold. “I was… just caught off guard. You’re right.” Auri heaved a heavy sigh then flexed fingers that were now clear of her own gloves. Her skin had cracked in several places and in the webbing between her index and middle fingers she could see dried blood. She grimaced a little and rubbed it off before tossing her gloves down onto the blankets nearby. There’d be time to apply a salve later. Now, she really needed to get out of her snow-covered attire.

The jacket went first then the gauntlets on her forearms and the armor pieces on her shoulders. It took a couple tries, working the fixtures, as her hands were more than a little numb. It was her cursing that drew Baird back to her. That and one of the heaters he managed to locate.

“Need help?” he asked as he knelt down beside the device and began fiddling with the knobs once it was plugged in.

“No?” Another quiet curse under her breath and he smiled to himself.

“That wasn’t a very convincing ‘no’.” Auri shot him an exasperated look through narrowed eyes as she was trying to unclasp the back straps on her chest piece when Baird stood up.

“Turn around,” he instructed her. “I need to take a look at this thing anyways if we’re supposed to head off in the morning. Don’t need you turning into an Auri-cicle.” The commander had been in the middle of giving him her back when he made that little pun. It took everything in her to not tell the man to piss off, that she’d work on it herself.

“You’re fucking ridiculous,” she muttered under her breath but Baird heard it nonetheless.

“Yeah, well, I’m just trying to help,” he replied matter of factly as he unhooked the armor piece and slid it off her. That gave him a chance to get a better look at the heating attachment. “God damn it! Those idiots seriously couldn’t have fixed this before we took off? When we get back, I’m going back through the damned log and seeing who was performing maintenance on this thing last.” He pulled back one of the panels and scoffed loudly. “The power cells crapped out and the wiring’s fried. Anyone coulda seen that from a mile away! They’re lucky. If the wiring had been crossed, it could’ve overloaded the system and exploded.”

“So, I could’ve gone out in a blaze of shrapnel and explode-y bits instead of freezing my ass off. Whoopee,” Auri said sarcastically as she sat down on the edge of the mattress and shoved off her leg armor, pushing it into the steadily growing pile nearby. “Maybe I should’ve gone for that. At least then I would’ve been warm.”

“You’re not helping,” Baird replied as he turned the chest piece over, searching for any other signs of damage.

“You aren’t either. Aren’t you supposed to be looking for another heater? I think Darla said there should be at least two.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m working on it.”

“No, you’re not. You’re just standing there.” Auri pulled off another sweater she had on over her bio-layer; at least that part of her suit she had been able to use. Yet, she was still freezing. Baird gave her a withering look as he set her chest piece aside to scour the rest of the home. While he was busy rooting about the place, Auri tapped her left boot rapidly against the floor, debating what she should do next. All she had on under her bio-layer was a tank shirt and a pair of compression shorts. Baird was out of sight for the moment and it didn’t take too long to shimmy out of the thing. Plus, she could just scoot under the blankets right after.

Setting her other clothes out to dry as well as they could draped over the counter, Auri worked her way out of her bio-layer and dove immediately under the blankets. Luckily, they didn’t smell nearly as musty as she’d expected and scooched over to where Baird had set up the first heater. When the Gear returned from his search, procuring two additional heaters, all he could see of the Spartan was the top of her head poking out from beneath the blankets. He almost laughed at the sight but kept quiet as he turned on the devices. Jack let out a chime nearby, confirming the home was secure for their stay. Regardless, Baird had the bot go into a standby mode while they slept. He then plugged in the remaining two heaters, setting one up at the foot of the bed and the other where he’d be potentially sleeping. That or taking the first watch depending on how cold the Spartan was going to be. He could see her covered form shaking just a bit as she tried to warm herself up.

A suggestion was already forming in his head but before he could voice it, a light knock sounded at the door. One of his hands immediately moved atop the sidearm at his hip as he quietly walked to the door. The windows were mostly boarded up and it wasn’t like anyone could hear him moving about inside. It never hurt to err on the side of caution however. He knelt beside one window, carefully peeking through a crack in the boards to get a look at their visitor when they knocked again.

A woman’s voice, muffled from the door, called out, “Hey, COG. It’s Darla. I’ve got the soup I promised you two. You mind opening up?” Baird let out a small sigh of relief, dropped his hand from the butt of his pistol and moved to the door.

“Uh, yeah. Gimme a sec. This thing’s… kinda… stuck,” he replied as he tugged at the doorknob. The wood inched open bit by bit. Once it was wide enough, small snow flurries crept inside and the wind nipped at the man’s exposed skin making him wince. After a moment, the door swung open and before him stood the Stranded woman from the soup kitchen. She was bundled up in her thickest sweaters and had a faded, patchwork scarf wrapped around the bottom half of her face. An old beanie was pulled down tightly over her ears. While Baird couldn’t see her mouth he could tell Darla was smiling at him with how her eyes crinkled at the corners. She was then pushing a large brown bag into his hands.

“Here you go,” she said, raising her voice around the fabric. “Two pints of chicken soup plus some jerky from the storehouse. You two have enough water to last you?” She then shook her head before Baird could answer. “I slipped you both an extra canteen each. Don’t worry about bringing back the tupperware. I’ve plenty back home.” The Gear could feel warmth leaking out of the bag and into his hands. It took everything in him to not clutch it to his chest and let it warm up the rest of his body. Clearly, the desire was plain on his face as Darla let out a low chuckle before her expression sobered.

“Your girl doing okay? Were you able to find the heaters I told you about?” Darla asked. Baird gave her a short nod.

His girl? Baird ignored that part before answering, “Thanks for that and she is. I’ve got them set up around the bed to thaw her out.” He shifted the bag from his chest and tucked it under an arm, sticking one snow-covered boot behind the door to keep the worst of the cold from sneaking in.

“Listen, if she needs treatment, I live above my shop. Just ring my doorbell and I can get her the help she needs.” The Gear narrowed his eyes a fraction as the older woman went to leave before he stopped her.

“Why’re you doing this?” Baird asked before adding, “Giving us food and all this?” Darla lifted a gloved hand up and tugged her scarf down below her mouth, giving Baird a grim smile before fishing out a long silver metal chain hiding underneath all of her winter layers. Baird blinked twice at the sight of the COG tags waving in the wind before Darla tucked them back beneath her clothes.

“I know you all aren’t what Allyson tries to make you out to be,” the woman said at length. “There’s going to be bad apples in every batch anywhere you go. Why let that ruin the rest of your bounty?” Darla pulled her scarf back into position and nodded to him before turning around to leave, calling over her shoulder, “Get some rest, COG. Have a safe trip in the morning.”

Baird lifted a hand up in a short wave as she hurried her way out of the cold then worked on getting the door to close again. “Huh. That was something I didn’t expect,” he muttered to himself. Baird then ran a hand over his hair, shaking free some of the snow before walking quietly over to the kitchen, setting their food inside the fridge.

“Who was at the door?” He about jumped at the question, having been so lost in his thoughts that he’d briefly forgotten about the Spartan buried in the blankets nearby. He left the kitchen to stand by her side of the bed and knelt down. Color was beginning to return to her face.

“Darla. She came by to drop off some food,” Baird replied as he started to shuck off his jacket, standing briefly to lay it near her belongings. “You up to eating a bit or are you still trying to thaw out?” Auri pulled the blankets around her a bit tighter at that.

“Let me warm up a little more and then I’ll get back to you on that,” came her muffled answer. A small smile pulled at the man’s lips.

“Alright. You still have feeling in all your limbs?” She dipped her head in a nod.

“Might’ve gotten a little frostbite on one foot but it’s nothing bad.” The Spartan shivered. “I’m still fucking cold.”

“I might be able to help you fix that,” Baird hedged as he looked back over to where Jack was hovering. He could faintly make out the telltale signs of the bot’s cloak given the slight ripples in the air. “Jack, gimme a heads up if anyone starts banging on our door, ‘kay?” Jack chimed his acknowledgment as Baird worked his way out of the rest of his clothes. Auri rolled over onto her other side, watching him with a puzzled expression.

“What’re you doing?” she asked as he began unlacing his boots.

“Getting out of these wet ass clothes.” Baird waved a hand at the small pile nearby. “You’re not the only one who’s cold.” He tugged his footwear off, focusing on the rest of his gear so he didn’t have to look her full in the face. “Now, I’m only gonna do this with your express permission, okay? I was going to suggest we share… body heat. I can’t sit here and watch you shiver like that.” It was then that Baird met her gaze. “I won’t do so if it makes you uncomfortable. Only goal here is to get you warmed up.”

Auri remained silent for a few seconds while Baird busied himself. He glanced her way every so often as she kept silent. He paused when he came to his belt and heard her shift upright into a sitting position. By the time Baird had looked back over, she’d pulled one blanket up around her waist and was fiddling with the edge of the fabric. She went to rub her right hand over her left forearm before checking the motion and settled her hands in her lap, fidgeting slightly still.

“Uh, you’re kiiinda creepin’ me out being quiet like that,” Baird said with a half smile which dropped quickly as his joke fell flat. “Okay, lame attempt, I know, but seriously. If you’re not comfortable with this, I’ll get something else figured out. I’m not trying to pressure you or anything.”

“No, no. It’s fine,” Auri replied, speaking up when he moved to grab his jacket from the counter. “You’re not-you’re not pressuring me.” Her gaze flicked up to the Gear’s briefly before dropping back down to the blankets; clearly the faded patterns interested her a lot more than the man who had been undressing before her. She hoped like hell her face wasn’t beet red. While nudity certainly didn’t bother the Four, this situation felt… different somehow but she didn’t let her mind dwell on it for too long.

“You’re sure?” Baird asked as he set the jacket back down. She could hear him walk over to where she was sitting, socks softly muffling his footsteps. Baird knelt down by her side and Auri saw him staring at her. “Because if you don’t-“

“Really. I’m okay,” she replied more firmly, cutting him off a bit too quickly. Baird narrowed his eyes slightly in response and studied her face a few seconds too long. Auri raised her brows at the blond. “Baird, I’m fine. Now, are you gonna get in here or what? I’m freezing my ass off.” As if to emphasize her point, a chill ran up her spine making her shudder hard.

“Alright, alright. Give me a sec…” Baird said, having stood back up and walked back over the small pile of clothes on the floor. Gathering them up, he spread them out on what flat surfaces he could find so they’d be relatively dry in the morning. While doing so, Auri took in a discreet breath and let it out quietly as she tried to calm her skyrocketing pulse. She needed to calm her nerves before her mind jumped to any conclusions. It wasn’t like they were going to have sex. He was simply offering another way to keep her warm through the night. On top of the three heaters he had situated around the bed. Auri mentally shook herself, looking back over at Baird just in time to hear him unhooking his belt buckle.

As if feeling her gaze on him, Baird glanced back over his shoulder and they locked eyes for a split second before Auri immediately laid back down on the bed, pulling the blankets up to her chin. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment but she couldn’t get the image of that man undressing in front of her. Get a damned grip on yourself, she mentally yelled at herself. Besides, it’s not like he’s even interested. Sure, he’s kinda flirted back and he… has been talking to you a bit more than usual but he doesn’t like you in that way. He knows you’ve got to get back home eventually. You don’t have a future here. Least of all with him. So stop it! It’s not worth the heartache.

She’d been so engrossed in her thoughts that she had failed to notice Baird shifting the covers back beside her so he could slip in. It wasn’t until he was practically all the way under that Auri had finally felt the blankets move and almost leapt out of her skin. She choked out a startled curse and felt one of Baird’s hands wrap around her shoulder.

“Sorry, sorry! I thought you heard me,” he said, apologizing quickly.

“It’s… fine,” the Four answered back even though she felt the furthest thing from fine right now. He squeezed her shoulder once in reassurance then rearranged his pillow, fluffing it up a bit before stuffing an arm beneath it. Auri felt Baird tap her on the shoulder again and she looked back at him in askance.

“It’s gonna take you a bit longer to warm up like that,” he said and motioned for her to scoot a bit closer. “Don’t give me that look. I don’t bite.” Auri scoffed at that and rolled her eyes but, after a minute, she did eventually inch back toward the Gear. When she was five or six inches away from him, she could practically feel the warmth radiating out from his body. That about sealed it for her. Auri was still a bit hesitant and she took her time settling in as if to give him a chance to back out. He didn’t retreat like she half expected him to.

“I’m gonna put my arm around your waist, if that’s okay,” Baird announced and he only did so once the Spartan gave him a verbal affirmative. Baird moved carefully as to not startle her and soon his arm was wrapped about her middle. He pulled her closer to his chest and Auri let out a small, contented noise as the Gear’s body heat permeated her back. Without meaning to, Auri had tugged his arm tighter around her and pulled the covers up to keep the heat in.

“Shit. You’re colder than I was expecting,” she heard Baird curse softly. She was just about to apologize and move away from him when Baird hooked a leg around her hip, his body practically engulfing hers. “No, you’re good. You’re good.” He sucked in a small breath when the cold bottoms of her feet pressed up against his skin but was otherwise quiet for a few seconds.

“Are you alright?” he asked at length.

“Mhm. You’re stupid warm. Or… I am just really, super cold right now.” Baird huffed out a laugh and she felt him shrug.

“Little of column A and little of column B.” His warm breath ghosted over the nape of her neck. It sent a shiver down her spine that, for once, wasn’t due to the cold. Now that she was starting to thaw out, it was getting a bit harder to think straight. Auri shut her eyes tightly closed for a second and did her best to flush out all of the thoughts running through her head. It’d been a while since she was in close proximity with anyone of this nature and her neglected libido certainly wasn’t helping matters in the slightest.

Baird is not interested in you so knock. It. Off! Just enjoy the fact that he’s basically cuddling you for warmth. You shouldn’t have pushed yourself so hard to begin with, dumbass. You could’ve seriously gotten hurt. Auri ran a hand over her face, pinching the bridge of her nose before settling back in.

“Hey, if I do anything to make you uncomfortable, tell me,” Baird said softly, his tone serious. “Even if you gotta kick me outta the bed, please do.” That drew a laugh from her. “I just wanna make sure you’re warm and comfortable.”

“Why would I want to kick out my only comfy source of body heat?” Auri asked, peering over her shoulder at him. In the dying light, she could make out the half grin he was giving her. That definitely wasn’t doing anything against the fluttering in her stomach.

“That’s fair. Now get comfortable. We’ve got an early morning ahead of us.”

“Believe me, I’m well aware. I’m not looking forward to dealing with the village queen tomorrow,” Auri muttered into her pillow. She sighed quietly then shifted around until Baird loosened his hold on her. Auri flipped over to face him and was discreetly startled with how close they were; only a couple inches were separating them.

“You… okay?” Baird asked, brows furrowing together. Auri nodded and scooched forward.

“Yeah. Ah. This is probably a stupid question,” she began hesitantly, chewing her bottom lip, “but can… I hug you?”

Baird fell silent, most likely surprised, before she heard him nodding. His free arm moved to settle around her torso, drawing her into his chest. Auri snaked her arm that wasn’t pinned beneath her body around his neck and buried her face into his shirt, inhaling his scent. It then felt like something snapped inside her. She felt her eyes begin to sting suddenly. Maybe it was the physical fatigue. Maybe it was the fact she felt too damned cold for her liking. Maybe it was a hundred different things, who knew. The last few days had been difficult and perhaps trekking up a snow covered mountain in a blizzard with faulty equipment had been her breaking point. All Auri knew then and there was that she needed that physical touch another body could provide. Besides, a hug seemed to make most things better after a little while. They were both a little hesitant with one another but, when Auri wrapped herself tighter around his body, Baird returned the gesture in full, almost crushing her against his chest. Seemed he needed this too.

A tear or three leaked out of her eyes and were luckily absorbed into Baird’s shirt without him noticing as Auri worked on getting her emotions in check. She quietly sniffled and squeezed her companion one last time before releasing him. The Spartan shifted back enough to be able to look him in the face and almost jumped when she felt his palm settling against her cheek. His thumb made a small sweeping motion across her skin, wiping away a few traitorous tears that had slipped out. The motion had been terribly sweet and pulled hard at her heartstrings. Auri then withdrew, feeling her companion’s hand fall away, as she swiped the back of her own hand over her eyes, sniffling.

“Sorry. Think I’m a little more tired than I was expecting,” she explained, giving him a weak smile. “We should probably get some sleep.” Auri went to roll onto her other side but then stopped herself midway to turn back. She felt around in the dark for Baird’s hand and placed hers over the top of his, squeezing it once. “I, um. Thanks, y’know, for, uh, watching out for me,” Auri said haltingly, like she was trying to search for the right words. “I appreciate it.” She wanted to say more but didn’t know what else to say, let alone, how to express the feelings in her heart. Maybe someday, or perhaps not at all, she may but now wasn’t the time. Baird turned his palm upward so he could take hold of hers and squeezed her fingers in return.

“Hey, it’s what I’m here for,” the Gear replied, clearing his throat, “regardless of what those schmucks back on the ship think.”

Auri snorted. "Someone’s a little full of themselves tonight,” she replied as she rolled her eyes and settled back down, tugging the blankets back over her shoulders.

“Well, yeah. You know who you’re talking to, right?”

“Here I thought we were having a moment. You ruined it.”

Baird scoffed. “You’re cruel, you know that, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah. Now, could you please warm my cruel ass up? If we end up going out into the snow like this again, I am wearing my suit come hell or water. I am not dealing with this bullshit again.”

“Can’t really blame you there,” Baird replied as he laid back down. “Guess I’ll have to make something up if Stranded start pestering us about you.”

“Let’s worry about that later,” Auri said around a wide yawn that cracked her jaw. She then shifted backwards a bit till she almost bumped into the man behind her. He wrapped an arm around her torso, drawing her closer until her back was flush against his chest. Auri snuggled deeper into the covers as Baird hooked his leg back around her hip, letting her leech away as much of his body heat she could. Just before she crashed, Auri could’ve sworn she heard Baird murmur something to her but it was only a matter of seconds before the Spartan drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

—-

When Baird awoke hours later, bits of sunlight had seeped in through the breaks in the boarded up windows. Seemed the storm had finally blown itself out as the wind wasn’t howling at the door. He went to stretch his arms over his head and attempt to wake up fully when one arm snagged on something. More aptly someone. The Spartan was practically hugging his arm to her chest and was curled up tightly on her side of the bed facing him. She was still solidly out like a light and shifted a bit closer to Baird in her sleep. His expression softened at the sight and he smiled. While they did need to get moving, he knew Auri had pushed herself hard, a little too hard if anyone asked him, the previous day and with faulty equipment no less. There’d be hell to raise when they got back to the Sovereign but now wasn’t the time to worry about all that.

Surprisingly, their escort from last night wasn’t trying to beat down their door so maybe they caught a lucky break. Maybe Darla had worked some of her magic on Allyson or maybe the woman would rather wait out the storm than trek through it. Whatever the reason, Baird was a bit glad that they had some extra time to themselves. He’d let the commander sleep until it was time to get moving. For now, he needed to figure out how to work his arm out from under her grasp. Right as he went to pull his trapped limb out, Auri blearily opened her eyes and yawned an animal yawn, all white teeth and pink tongue. She yawned once more and rubbed at her eyes before finally taking stock of her surroundings.

“Oh. Mornin’, Damon,” she mumbled, her voice thick from sleep as she tried to wake up. It took her a moment to realize she’d been wrapped around her companion’s arm, apologizing tiredly as she released him, and sat upright. Her hair was rumpled on one side from where she’d been sleeping and Baird felt a tug on his heartstrings. She looked so damned cute but he wasn’t about to spoil the moment by pointing out the obvious. Instead, Baird just sat back and watched her for a minute as he tried to wake up himself. He rolled out his shoulders then his neck, relishing the feel of his joints popping back into place. Seemed he hadn’t moved much in his sleep.

“I think… you chased me across the bed at one point,” Auri said around another yawn.

Or maybe he had.

Baird shot the woman a look and she smiled sheepishly back at him. “Please. I’m not going to tell the others,” she said, pushing her shirt strap back up her shoulder. “It was kinda cute. I think you were also muttering in your sleep but I couldn’t really hear anything.”

“I am anything but cute,” Baird retorted before pausing, searching his memory. “I… also don’t remember doing any of that.”

“Pretty sure you were sound asleep.” Auri lifted her arms high over her head and arched her back a bit as she stretched. She raked a hand through her hair and glanced back over at him when he hadn’t responded. Auri raised her eyebrows and looked pointedly at the Gear and that was enough to snap him out of his stupor.

“Um. Yeah. No, I, uh, knocked out pretty quick last night,” he replied as he shoved back the blankets. He regretted that almost instantly, the cold floorboards creaking underfoot as he padded across the floor to where he’d laid his clothes and gear out. Most of it had dried overnight and as cold as it was, he knew they’d warm up once they were on him for a while. Jack had decloaked and floated over to the pair as Baird threw on a shirt and bottoms, making for the chest piece Auri had been using. He dug around in his pack before finding his repair kit and got to work while the Spartan dressed. He studied the armor piece intently to keep his eyes from straying back over to the other soldier. It didn’t take him long to get lost in his work. It was going to be a patch job at best but it’d keep Auri from freezing long enough for them to get back to base.

Almost thirty minutes had passed before a hard knock sounded off at their door. Jack immediately hid his presence as Baird shut the battery pack hatch closed and handed the gear over to the Spartan who’d pulled on everything save for her chest piece. Their “host” hammered their door once again, clearly impatient. Baird got up and quickly donned on the rest of his own gear, calling out, “Hey, gimme a minute! Unless you want to see a buck-ass naked man in here, hold yer horses!” A muttered response could be heard on the other side then but the words were unintelligible. Baird shook his head and grabbed his weapons and pack. Auri did the same after shutting off the heaters and stood behind and to the side of Baird as he yanked the door open. At first, it refused to budge but after a few seconds of coaxing and prodding, he managed to open it wide enough for them both to step through. Sure enough, their escort from the previous night stood on their doorstep. Bryan. No, Bailey. Brandon? It started with a B, that much Baird remembered. That and the man was a prick.

“Wakey, wakey, COG. We’re behind schedule and chief’s gettin’ impatient,” he sneered, taking a step back to give the two just enough room. “Les’ get a move on, yeah? Sooner you’re outta here, the better.”

“You’re the ones who wanted to move at dawn yet no one was banging on our door when the time came,” Baird remarked. “Guessin’ you guys had to wait till the blizzard finally died down.”

“Whatevah,” the man growled as he led them to the back end of the village. Another gate was stationed there, not nearly as high as the front entrance but still had a pair of watch towers on either side. Allyson stood there, practically glaring at them both. She dressed in an outfit similar to the one she wore yesterday and had an old Retro Lancer in hand and Boltok pistol riding her hip. Three more men joined her; clearly her personal guard.

“Morning, Chief,” Baird said, a false note of cheer leaking into his voice. “Hope you all slept well.”

“Skip the pleasantries, COG,” Allyson spat out, her mouth twisting into a frown. “Lead us off to the cache so we can be done with this and you can leave.”

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” Auri muttered under her breath. Allyson’s gaze instantly locked onto her and her eyes narrowed a fraction.

“What did you just say?” the village leader growled. Auri plastered a blank look on her own face and stared at the other woman.

“Nothing,” the Spartan replied in a bored tone as she fell in step with Baird as he took the lead.

Snow crunched underfoot as the small group hiked through the trees. Bird song drifted down from above them. Soft white clouds lazily floated on by, a stark contrast from the thunderous gray mass that had blotted out the sky the day prior. Baird took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, enjoying the smell of the fresh mountain air. It would’ve been a nice little hike had it not been for the company they were keeping. They’d be rid of Allyson and her posse soon enough. It just couldn’t happen fast enough for Baird’s liking.

When they were about a quarter of a mile out from the hidden cache of supplies, Baird slowed his walk. He held up a closed fist to the rest of the group as he scanned their surroundings. He didn’t know what caught his attention but he-

“Why are we stopping? Are we near the cache?” Allyson snapped at him. “If we aren’t, we-“

“Shut it,” the Gear hissed harshly, slanting a sideways look at the woman. Fury was written plainly across her face. “Look. Something feels off here. You guys haven’t had any recent Locust sightings, have you?”

One of the guards laughed aloud, the sound echoing off the trees. “Nah, man. Not for the last couple weeks. They enjoy the cold no more’n we do.”

“Then what the. Fuck. Is that?” Baird gestured at a large patch of trampled snow with the muzzle of his gun. The guards peered around and one knelt beside the mess of tracks.

“I dunno. We’ve got a bunch a deer’n shit movin’ through these woods. Can’ expect us to keep track of ‘em, can you?” the first guard asked. “Like I said, we haven’t seen Locust in weeks.”

“Just because you can’t see ‘em, doesn’t mean they’re not there, jackass,” Baird snapped back.

“Hey, Mike. Didn’t Charlie’n his brother say they heard a bunch of noise a few days ago near the south side of the village?” one guard in a faded yellow beanie asked as he took a closer look at the tracks.

“Yeah. It was probably a herd movin’ through here. Migratin’ or some shit.”

“I dunno know, man. These tracks look awful big to be deer.”

“We’re wasting time babbling like old women here,” Allyson spoke up, readjusting her grip on her weapon. “How far are we from the supply cache?” While her tone and body language clearly demonstrated her anger and impatience, Baird could see a flicker of fear and worry in her eyes.

“Not far,” Baird replied quietly as he began peering through the trees around them. “Maybe quarter of a mile or so inside an old cave.”

“Okay then. Let’s move.”

“Hold on a moment.” He stepped quickly into the woman’s path. If looks could kill, he’d be dead on his feet. “Listen to me. A lot of shit moved through here pretty recently. Blizzard only stopped, what? A couple hours ago?” Allyson went to step around him but Baird moved again, this time placing a hand on top of her shoulder to keep her from storming off. “Just. Wait. Alright? These tracks are fresh. If they’d happened before the storm rolled through here, they’d be gone by now, right?” Allyson pursed her lips but took another look at the disturbed powder. Some of the anger left her expression and Baird knew he was starting to get through to her when Auri stretched out a hand, grabbing his attention.

“What is it?” he asked quietly, looking over his shoulder at the other soldier.

“Movement. Ten ‘o’ clock,” the Spartan whispered, keeping her eyes trained on where she’d seen it last. The three guards immediately brought their weapons up to bear. “Moved too quick for me to get a bead on it. Baird, we’ve got maybe two options here.” She glanced at him briefly before returning her gaze back to her original spot. “Move back to the village for reinforcements or press onto the cache and use the supplies. If we stay out here in the open for much longer…”

“I know.” He breathed out slowly, returning his attention back to Allyson. “It’s your call. Either we head back to the village and come back here another day or we press on and grab the supplies now. Either way, we’ll have a fight on our hands. At least this way, if we head back to the village, we’ll have extra guns on our side.”

The redhead’s lip curled but it was more in frustration at the situation at hand than at the Gear. She readjusted her grip on the old Lancer and let out a breath, looking Baird dead in the eye. “We press on, COG. We need those supplies. Mike.” She threw a glance over her shoulder at the man. “Head back to the village and notify the rest of the guard. Get those who can’t fight below ground and arm anyone who is able bodied to be safe.”

Baird stepped forward and gripped the man’s shoulder before he had a chance to leave. “The moment the gunfire starts, break away from us. Locust’ll be less inclined to chase after you if we’re firing at them.” Once Mike nodded, Baird released him and turned his gaze back to the trees. A cloud rolled over the sun, blanketing the entire area in gray. Everything was dead silent now, even the birds had stopped singing, and he could’ve sworn he heard the Locust grunting to themselves. Maybe they thought the group hadn’t spotted them and were trying to get into position for an ambush.

“Chief, get your guys behind the tree to your left and then the one on the right here,” Baird hissed, his voice barely above a whisper. Allyson looked like she was briefly going to fight Baird on ordering her men about but she relented. At least she was starting to pick and choose her battles with him and, right now, Baird wasn’t the enemy to focus on. The woman jerked her head at the remaining two guards with Mike poised to take off soon as the fighting started. Auri had already darted through the snow as quietly as she could, running doubled over and used the thick brush as cover until she got a decent angle on the Locust. She gave Baird a thumbs up and braced the butt of her rifle against her shoulder. Her breath came out in small, white clouds from beneath the scarf wrapped about her neck.

“On my mark,” the Gear murmured, then counted down with his free hand. Once his index finger dropped, the humans let loose on the Locust. Mike shot off like a rocket back towards the village, losing his balance twice in the knee deep snow. Some of the incoming hostile fire tried to shift his way but Allyson held down the trigger on her weapon long enough to dissuade them of that notion. Then came the sound that Baird dreaded.

“BOOM!”

Baird barely managed to yell out to the others to get down when an explosive round shot through the trees, detonating a ways off from both groups but it still managed to knock down a tree.

“Sonuvabitch. Is that-?” one villager began to say before Baird cut him off harshly.

“Yes, it is. Keep. Fucking. Firing!” He emptied his rifle’s mag before switching it out for a fresh one. Another deep voice had echoed the first and soon enough a pair of Locust built like brick shit houses came lumbering into view. Fucking Boomers.

“Auri, you’re with me,” Baird called out to the Spartan. “Focus fire on those two. We can’t let them get close!”

“On it!” she replied, slamming a fresh clip home in her own gun before changing cover. The Four darted around to the right in a half circle, ducking behind another large tree trunk and fired at the closest Boomer. It bellowed out in anger and swung its Boomshot her way and fired. Baird’s heart leapt into his throat as the round punctured a head sized hole through her cover, spraying her with broken pieces of wood. It wasn’t enough to send that one tumbling to the ground but it was pretty close.

Her head snapped up once she was relatively clear and saw how weak the trunk was. Baird then watched her for a moment, her gaze locking onto the Boomer, a plan clearly forming in her head. A second later, she thumbed the switch for her Lancer’s chainsaw attachment and began cutting through the rest of the trunk, teeth gritting together in concentration. The loud sound drew the other Locusts’ attention which prompted Baird to immediately fire on them, if just to buy her more time. The next thing he heard over the staccato beat of gunfire was the sound of cracking wood then the subsequent whoosh as the pine toppled to the ground-

Right where one of the Boomers had been standing. It hadn’t been enough to kill it but the tree was able to incapacitate the damned thing enough to keep it out of the fight. Its partner roared in anger as its Boomshot swung around to face her and quickly advanced on the other soldier. Without another word, Allyson sprung out around cover, drawing her large, serrated knife from the sheath on her belt. The snow didn’t seem to hinder her much as the village chief charged over to the heavy-footed Boomer.

She swung the blade out when she reached the second Boomer’s back and caught it across the backs of its knees where the armor was at its weakest, her guards providing her with covering fire where they could. It screamed in pain and staggered forward into the snow almost face first. It lashed out behind it in an attempt to grab the redhead but missed, blinded by its rage. Seeing an opening, Auri plucked a grenade from her belt, swung it twice then lobbed it at the remaining Locust before joining Allyson. The chief didn’t bother swapping out mags as she proceeded to jam the rifle’s bayonet several times into the Boomer’s back. In one final attempt to bring the human down with it, the massive Locust gripped Allyson by the arm at last, wrenching her into the snow.

Allyson blindly thrashed outward with her other knife wielding arm but couldn’t hit the Boomer in the head from the awkward angle she was in. That’s when the sound of a chainsaw tearing through flesh and bone filled the air. The Spartan had brought her Lancer down on the Locust’s limb as she had the tree and kept pushing, ignoring the gore splattering her clothes and body. The Boomer howled in pain but the howl abruptly cut off as soon as a knife had been slammed right into its temple. The rest of the Locust had either fled now or were slowly bleeding out in the snow, the red a stark contrast against all the white.

Both the chief and commander were breathing heavily from that ordeal, wiping off bits of chunks that had fallen onto them, when Auri extended her hand to the redhead. Allyson didn’t hesitate to grasp the Spartan’s proffered hand and let herself get hauled up, spitting out blood that had gotten into her mouth. Baird and the two guards hurried over to them once they were sure the Locust weren’t going to mount a counterattack. Allyson cast a look off in the direction their enemy had taken with a rather pissed off look on her face.

“Jenks,” she said, exhaling explosively as she flicked a bone fragment off her forearm, “When we get back to the village, get a team together to follow these tracks back to their nest. Finish them off. We cannot have them coming back to our home. Once we have the weapons from this cache, that task should be easier to accomplish.” Allyson then looked back to Baird and Auri, the anger replaced with exhaustion that they all felt. “Please. Lead the way.” Baird gave her a curt nod and, after they ensured that everyone in their group hadn’t been injured and the dead Locust were just that, dead, they continued on their original route.

Sure enough, a quarter of a mile down, they reached a weathered, old outpost that clung to the edge of a cliff. Allyson stopped in her treks, looking at the building with confusion.

“This can’t be right,” she said. “We already examined this place from top to bottom. Your coordinates have to be wrong.”

“Nope, not wrong,” came Baird’s reply as he walked up the rickety steps. “Y’all just weren’t looking in the right place.” He shoved his shoulder against the faded door until it gave way. There was enough light seeping in through the cracked boards along the windows to see by as he searched about the place. His pace quickened when he neared a moth eaten rug by the back corner and flipped it over. Allyson and her posse had stepped inside as he revealed the locked hatch and Baird glanced away as he felt a rather satisfied grin pull at his mouth as he entered the code. It buzzed once before letting out a sharp beep, accepting the passcode. With the locks disengaged, Baird swung the door upward and revealed crates of ammo, hand grenades and several pairs of rifles, handguns and a few grenade launchers at the back.

“Let us pack up some of the ammo ourselves. Rest is yours, Chief,” Baird said as he reached inside and began pulling up a few of the crates. “Ya might wanna get a couple more guys out here. Looks like it’ll take you a few trips.”

“Very well, COG.” Allyson’s boots echoed dully against the floorboards as she approached him to peruse the contents for herself. “Thank you. And… thank you both for your assistance in that fight.” She looked over to Auri who was still wiping off some of the blood that hadn’t turned completely tacky yet. “Your… friend is welcome to shower before you leave our village. Make it quick.” The Spartan’s eyes widened a fraction in surprise.

“Thanks. I’ll, ah, be sure not to use up all your hot water,” Auri replied, a relieved smile on her face. She didn’t exactly fancy walking all the way back to the LZ coated in a fine layer of gore.

“Make sure that you do. It’s difficult enough keeping hot water supplied to the village without others making use of it.”

The commander swallowed her smile and nodded once. Outside, they could hear several pairs of boots crunching through the snow. Baird instantly shot up, a hand going to his sidearm but Allyson waved him off. It was Mike with a few extra hands. While he did alert the others back home, he took it upon himself to double back with a couple guards in case the fight took a turn for the worse. After coming across several dead Locust, and saw that their people weren’t among them, the group followed the snow tracks down to the outpost. With the added help, Baird and Auri were no longer needed once they got their share of the cache.

With the promise of a hot shower in her near future, Auri double timed it through the snow and back to the house they’d stayed in the previous night. She scrubbed the blood out from her hair and her skin, going over herself twice before she was finally pleased. In the meantime, Baird had already called up the Raven and had been wiping down her armor the best he could, having tossed her other clothes into the washer. It’d be a minute before their pickup was even remotely close.

A few hours later found the two soldiers halfway down the mountain at the aforementioned LZ, a Raven steadily approaching. It touched down, grabbed the pair and took off, leaving the village and mountainside well behind them.

___

It was already well into the evening by the time they neared the Sovereign. The ship was a welcome sight to behold. The Raven soon landed on a free pad, depositing the soldiers. Dom and Cole had been walking over to them, rather happy that the two made it back safe and sound.

“I’ll get the report turned in if you’re wanting to crash below deck,” Baird said to the Spartan as he turned off in the direction of the bridge.

“That actually wouldn’t be a bad idea,” she replied. “I’ll drop off my gear. Don’t forget to check the maintenance logs.”

Baird laughed then gave his squad mates a quick rundown on the bullshit they had to deal with the day prior. “Oh, trust me. I am definitely not gonna forget that. Friggin’ dumbasses.”

“Oh, and Baird? One more thing.” The blond gave Auri a puzzled look as she walked up to him. She gently cupped his chin, stood up on her toes a little, and, with Dom and Cole both as witnesses, placed a brief kiss on his stubbled cheek. “Thanks.” She flashed him a smile, her face turning a slight shade of pink before hurrying off downstairs to her bunk before anyone could stop her.

“Whoa, okay. What was that for?” Dom demanded, letting out a laugh of disbelief.

“I’d very much like to know that, too, Baird,” Cole remarked with a broad grin on his face. “What’d you two do out there? Did you-?”

“What? No, uh uh. I am cutting off your train of thought right there, man,” Baird quickly said.

“There ain’t no cutting the Cole-train off, baby. Especially not with something as juicy as this on the table!”

“I hate you.”

“You didn’t say nothing didn’t happen though,” Dom helpfully pointed out.

“Okay, I hate both of you,” Baird amended, glaring daggers at the pair of them.

These two definitely weren’t going to leave well enough alone but, to be quite honest, he didn’t know exactly what to tell them. It was clear Rachel was interested, now it seems. They’d been flirting a bit back and forth and, after last night, Baird had felt like something had sparked between them but he didn’t know what that meant for the future. Their future.

That answer would have to wait, however. He was dog tired and still had a mission report to drop off. He bid his friends goodbye and evaded the rest of their questions, assuring them he’d talk about it later much to their disappointment. When he went to bed later that night, he found himself missing that warm body curled up right next to him and the soft, clean soap smell. She must’ve come across one that had a faint floral scent and almost wished she could’ve stopped by again. He really could have gotten used to her sleeping beside him but Baird was getting too far ahead of himself. For now, he’d just focus on the next day.

All new days brought new beginnings with them, right?

[angeart]

//more crackers smp lore and also some comfort

There’s been another attack—another overwhelmed scream—and it hurt, but that wasn’t the important part. The important part was that the night that wrapped around them all afterwards was silent, muffled in a way wholly unsettling. Bereaved and lonely. Something sad carried on the gentle breeze, mixed in with drifting snowflakes and fluttering pink petals. A fracture was growing, unseen but still there, around the snowy tips of the mountain. Somewhere amidst the cold, unfriendly snow, a patch of sculk steadily grew.

Ange finds herself standing at the edge of the snow, letting all of this wash over her. A mix of emotions swirls in the pit of her stomach, fueled by unease and worry. She stares, through the darkness that surrounds her, towards the little dip just below the top of the mountain range, where a house sits in isolation. Well, as much isolation as the ever-present sculk and the sway of wheat that’s not meant to grow in such a cold climate can grant. 

She takes a breath, the air crisp and heavy in her lungs, and she steps forward, placing her feet carefully along the pathway she’s learned over the time—a safe route picked apart after many mishaps, a way to reach her friend without unnecessary trouble.

Wren liked this place. They liked it, all the coldness and treachery of it. 

That’s why they picked it, for their café. For their home.

The views were wonderful, Ange had to admit. The gently falling snow, even if freezing to touch, was oddly comforting. Except not now. Now it reeks of solitude, where before it was a shared place, somewhere for people to come—a café.

Now, the only thing greeting Ange are the sculk sensors lighting up and rattling at her, and the mobs lurking in the dark ready to pounce.

The creaking of the snow gets swapped for a much more mushy sound of the sculk, only marginally less soft. If she’d slow down, she could make her steps almost completely silent, but there’s no need for that. She isn’t down in some deep, dark cave. She’s up in the overworld and the night sky is lit up by the northern lights, snaking through like a beacon of hope, and sneaking won’t help her deter the pesky skeletons that rattle just beyond the closest snow dune. 

She walks over the blackened ground, littered with specks of light blue not unlike freckles over skin or stars over the sky, until she reaches the house. 

And then she stops, seeing the figure curled up in front of the front door, warm in the thick winter clothes, but definitely not safe out here at this hour. 

Ange hesitates, despite herself. There’s an echo of a scream, something distressed and wounded and desperate, and a responding echo of pain that digs in white-hot, unravelling something at the code-level, burrowing under the skin, touching the organs and making the blood boil—all in one go—like a sonically charged shriek. Her hand trembles a little as she holds it over her stomach, lingering memory of a hurt that shouldn’t have been real flaring up under her touch. 

Still, she takes another tentative step closer.

The sculk sensors rattle, and Wren snaps their head up at the sound.

Wide alarmed eyes meet Ange’s across the distance that still separates them.

“Wh— No—”

Ange stands perfectly still, brows furrowing as she tries to parse through that reaction. “Do you… not want me here?” she hazards a guess, because she isn’t here to impose and even though she came uninvited, she doesn’t want to make Wren uncomfortable.

At the question, Wren takes a sharp breath and uncurls a little bit more, back straightening. “No, that’s—” Sculk sensors light up, rattling softly in the background at the words. Wren’s eyes flit to them, as if they were louder than they actually are; as if they pulled and tugged violently at their attention. It’s only once they quiet down that they take a breath to speak again, and it’s wobbly on their lips, full of wariness and apprehension. “I could hurt you!”

There’s a momentary pause as Ange blinks, taking it in. “Is that the only problem?”

Wren pulls away slightly, confused. “What?”

A small, unbothered shrug accompanies Ange’s words as she reinstates the question. “Is that the only problem? That you might hurt me?” The night chill is sneaking under her clothes; she’s not dressed for snow, even if she keeps coming here. An involuntary shiver runs through her body, but she ignores it. 

“Yeah,” Wren says, breathless and still on the edge of baffled. Their brows knot. “Is that— Is that not enough?”

“Enough for what?” Ange considers Wren where they still sit huddled up. They look warm. They look like it’d feel nice to cuddle up to them, steal some of their warmth. At the same time, they look cornered. They look like they’ve put themselves in a place they can no longer run from, at the end of their rope. Just inches from falling apart. “Wren, what is it that you want from me?” she prompts, waiting for the words I want you to leave.

The words don’t come. 

Instead, frustration seeps off Wren as they say: “I want you to be safe.”

A small, sad smile curves Ange’s lips and she takes an easy step forward. “Nowhere is safe.” Nowhere is safe, and everywhere is just a step away from the maze of the mines, and the call of the sculk, and the disorienting dizziness of the world. Everywhere just a step away from an arrow in the back, a sonic shriek, a fall of a cliff. Just a step away from drowning in a powdered snow. “And I’m not afraid of you.” She takes another step, just as easy as the first. 

“Ange,” Wren says, and it comes out a warning.

They’re tense, wide-eyed, everything about them screaming You should be afraid. I am. Please be afraid. For your own good. Please understand.

But Ange brushes the message aside and doesn’t heed the warning. She keeps on walking, step after step, arms wrapped around herself just to stave off the impending, bothersome cold that keeps her verging on shivering. “Oh, so many things can hurt me, Wren, you’re not special,” she says half-jokingly, trying to lighten the situation. Her eyes shine in the dark, light but bright purple as she makes her approach, each step marked by a rattle of several sculk sensors that have made their home here.

Wren seems to deflate a little, something warring and unreadable in their expression as they pry their gaze away from the approach of a friend, eyes flitting across the glowing sculk sensors that pierce and diminish the soothing darkness of the night.

“Actually,” Ange sighs quietly, and she’s so, so close now. She crouches down, slow and careful and unthreatening, keeping her voice soft. “Wren?” she tries to catch Wren’s gaze, anchor the attention for the next words.

Wren pulls their knees tighter to their chest, their back against a corner of the building as they loook up and meet Ange’s gaze. “Hm?”

Ange offers a tiny, encouraging smile. “You are. Special, I mean.”

Incomprehension flickers across Wren’s gaze, and behind it something knowing, but deliberately evasive. “What?”

With a small huff, Ange sits back on her heels. “It’s like the whole powdered snow situation, isn’t it.” She tilts her head a little, considering. This probably isn’t going to make much sense, and she knows it—because it makes sense to her, in her head, but translating it into words is hard. Still, she studies Wren’s face, hoping to find something more than fear and tension and anxiety. Just a sliver of opennes, something she could slip through, that’d be enough. “You know, how if you fall in, you aren’t supposed to break it,” she says softly. “You don’t break it just because it hurts you. You let it run its course. You let it consume you.” 

Honestly, she isn’t sure she’s explaining this right. But there’s something about it that rings so true in her heart—maybe because she’s fallen into that damned powdered snow over and over again. Wren asked her not to destroy it, and so she always let it be. She let it be, cold biting and ravaging, taking away her warmth in a swift and vicious way and chipping away at what was left underneath. And she still didn’t take a weapon to it. Because she knew it’s going to be alright. Because at the end of it, she would respawn, safe and sound, in the warmth of her bed, and all she’d lose was a bit of time.

Most importantly, she never took a weapon—or a shovel—to it, because she loves Wren.

She looks at her friend now, a mix of sorrow and pleading in her gaze as she reaches out, slowly and questioningly. 

Wren tenses up, but doesn’t move away, too surprised and still tangled in trying to understand whatever Ange was saying for any sharper reaction. 

Ange takes what she’s given, and she lets her fingers connect with the warm skin of Wren’s face. Sculk-stained blackened fingertips slide over the cheek, right into the fur equally marked by sculk.

They’re not that different, she thinks.

“I’ll respawn if anything happens, Wren,” she half-whispers. “It’s okay.”

The gentleness of it all seems to break something in Wren, as their eyes suddenly glisten and fill with tears, hot ones that easily overflow. A dark, clawed fear that they’re now dangerous and nobody is safe near them and that everybody surely hates them now was so overpowering, but it shatters and gives so easily under the pressure of cold, friendly fingers and a kind smile. Somewhere behind it all, like a beacon of a lighthouse, the thought: I am not completely alone yet.

So Wren hiccups and sniffles and dips their head, even as it disconnects the salvaging touch. They pull into themselves, a bubble of self-protection from the thorns of the world, the ground rattling and humming and whispering underneath them hungrily, incessantly, even with someone’s presence so, so close.

“Oh, Wren,” Ange breathes out and shifts closer, still careful, still slow. She moves to sit next to Wren, wraps one arm around them and pulls them to her.

Wren slumps against her without a fight, hands pressed to their face and body shaking.

Relief is a warm tide, washing over Ange as Wren allows themselves to be held. 

Murmuring quiet things, Ange continues holding Wren without any sign of a desire to move away. She holds them, and she looks ahead at the sculk crashing into snow, and the pale, beautiful glow of the northern lights, and the blurry sway of cherry petals somewhere deep below the mountain.

And she thinks that, one way or another, they’re going to be okay.

Even though the black markings on her skin whisper gleefuly that she’s wrong, she elects not to believe them. Not to give in to that anxiety. Not on this particular night, with a precious friend in her hold. Not now, not now, not now.

Time twists around them, a nonsensical and dizzying concept, vague and dancing. It could be minutes, it could be hours, before they stir and Wren pulls away a little, finally quiet, rubbing their cheeks raw to erase the lingering traces of the tears. It’s still dark outside, stars shining brightly high above them.

“Wren…?” Ange says their name quietly, testingly, sheepishly.

“Yea?” Wren sniffles, face still hidden from sight.

There’s a skipped-beat of hesitation, before the question spills out, inviting and encouraging and afraid of rejection: “Do you want to sleep over at mine…?” 

Ange thinks of the dark circles under Wren’s eyes. Of the desperation and distress that led to those hurtful screams in the first place. Of their tears. Of the rattle of the sculk and the humming of the endermen somewhere just beyond the windowpanes, inside. She thinks of Judas’ empty bunk bed upstairs. She thinks of Wren, possibly falling apart at the seams, awake and exhausted and stumbly on their feet. She thinks of how heavily they leaned into her just moments ago, as if the weight of their own body—or maybe the weight of their sculk-stained soul—was too much for them to bear.

“Stiff is going to be in the lab all night again,” she continues to explain, to soothe any worries or bumps that might cause indecision. “And I have a spare bed.” 

There’s silence, considering and tense and not promising anything.

So with an audible smile, Ange adds a hopeful “We could cuddle?”

She feels Wren take a breath. 

It takes another moment, before Wren’s voice breaks the silence, shy and barely audible: “You’d… want that?”

Ange immediately latches onto it, because it isn’t a no. It’s a seeking of reassurance, and that she can do. With a grin growing on her face, she nods, even though Wren isn’t watching. “Yes,” she says, unhesitatingly. “I absolutely want that.”

It’s only then that Wren shifts again, enough to turn, and their eyes meet. They search in Ange’s gaze for a while, destabilised and desperately trying to find something that’d offer them some footing, and—

And maybe, just maybe, they find it.

Because when Wren breathes out, they end up saying “Okay.”

[acaplaya-musings]

Voiceplay Visuals: My Mother Told Me

This video was released on the 24th of April, 2021, and currently sits at a very-impressive 6.7 million views! It features Jose Rosario Jr (in his first collabration with Voiceplay (on a full-length video at least)), who for a few years performed with Rockapella! (Rockapella is an acapella group who have been around for over 35 years, they were part of the OG Where In The World Is Carmen Sandiego show, and they were a bit of an inspiration to Voiceplay (originally 4:2:Five) in their early days).

I wasn't actually sure whether or not this video would give me a lot of moments to point out/talk about (it's been a while since the last time I watched it), but it's obviously a big production (epic, even), and I will undoubtedly be talking about its "sister video", Valhalla Calling, when I eventually get around to it, so long story short, I'm doing this. Let's go!

Each vocalist got filmed separately for this one, each with their own backdrop (and then were all spliced together for "group shots" in the video), so each member gets their own picture when I'm talking about them in this post!

Jose is wearing some textured blanket-looking thing, plus a plain brown shirt/tunic, and he's got a pair of blueish lines on his face that almost look a little bit like scars. He's standing in front of a sort of desert plains landscape, maybe with some large red mountains/rock formations?

Oh yeah and also it's a little hard to see, but just at the neckline of Jose's shirt, underneath his beard, there's a cool viking(?) symbol on his neck that also shows up in Valhalla Calling (and on the merch for that video too)!

Eli appears to have a bit of dirt and grime on his skin (which would be intentional of course), as well as some cool-looking tattoos (even on his head!) (fake ones for the video of course), and some very heavy eye makeup. He's standing in front of some grass, rocky cliffs (possibly with water down below?), and sea mist

(Also Eli is credited with "virtual production" on this one, so I guess all these greenscreen backgrounds were his doing? Massive shoutout to Eli!)

J has the same symbol on his forehead that Jose had on his neck/chest, as well as some white powder-looking makeup stuff on his cheeks. No clue what kind of top/shirt that is, but I like the big fur coat, and cool arm cuff things as well! He's standing in front of a frozen (or partially-frozen) lake, with snow-covered mountains/rock formations behind it.

(Fun fact: Geoff re-used a few costume pieces from My Mother Told Me when filming the videos for his covers of Far Over The Misty Mountains Cold and I See Fire!

Layne has got a makeup design to Eli, with similiar tattoos on his face, and a bit of extra dirt/grime as well. He's got fur trimmings(?) on his shoulders like Eli, but it looks more like the fur that J is wearing. He's standing in front of wide open plains I guess? I'm not sure, I can't make out a ton of detail.

I think Layne's outfit might be my favourite one of this video; it seems the most complex, like it has the most going on with it, and I like the patterned cuff design thing on his right arm!

And I haven't forgotten Geoff, of course I haven't forgotten Geoff, and seriously oh my god

I'm honestly not sure if I could give a good description of Geoff's outfit even if I tried, but it works! (Also wait I literally only just realised that, once more, he's the only one in the video with exposed shoulders (well, one exposed shoulder, but still!))

This honestly might be one of Geoff's most terrifying looks of any Voiceplay video so far, if not the most terrifying. Vampire!Geoff in This Is Halloween was "scary" in the "yes please give me more of it" (i.e. hot) way. Oogie Boogie!Geoff in Oogie Boogie's Song was just theatrical and entertaining. Mr Hyde!Geoff in Kidnap The Sandy Claws was (to me at least) just a little bit strange and hard to wrap my head around. But Geoff here? This is "makes you want to move very quickly in the opposite direction" scary!

(So like well done to Rick Underwood on the makeup (but in regards to everyone else as well))

Jose, J, Eli, and Layne all got cool aesthetic landscapes as their backdrops. Geoff got darkness and STUFF ON FIRE (...yeah that checks out 😆)

Even the fingernails!!! Even the fingernails look like they've got grime on them! (Also, Geoff at his least-terrifying moment of the video)

Aaaand we're back to "time to run away very fast" mode!

(Also yes Geoff's tattoos and makeup are very cool as well)

Not that Geoff is the only one in this video that I wouldn't wanna pick a fight with!

Jose is credited with "additional acting direction" in the description, so I guess he maybe camw up with/directed some of these kind of moves?

Oh hey Geoff has that symbol on him as well! I wonder if Layne and Eli have got it somewhere on them too?

Wait hang on what is Eli holding?

A better shot of Layne's face tattoos and the cool sleeve thing!

Geoff doing a similar hand movement to the one he did in Bang! (which was my previous post actually), after he had just done a bit of an impressive bass-vocal-run (or something like that), except this time it's after holding a quite low note (a subharmonic I think?) for like 6 seconds.

Oh I think Eli was holding his cape?

Yes I can see the tattoo, thank you Jose! 😂

Also did Geoff do a bit of hair colouration for this video? Because yes he's got a bit of grey in his hair now, but not that much grey, and it's not always that noticeable (though personally I do love the grey streak he often has in his bangs, it's rather fetching if I do say so myself <3)

Run fast, and run far!

And that's the video! Man, can you believe these are the same dudes (well except Jose) that did the Aca Top 10 videos, being all silly and fooling around? Acting skills were freaking on point here! Everyone crushed it!

It's a great arrangement as well (shoutout to Layne!). The song is actually just one single verse, which here is sung like 5 or 6 times over, but you barely even notice it (if at all) because the whole production is just so mind-blowingly good!

I also wanted to do this video because I'll be skipping over You're My Best Friend and Man In The Mirror, so this'll be the last video I'm doing where J is actually a part of the group. It was of course very sad that he left Voiceplay, but he's come back as a guest artist in like 6 full-length videos now (not even counting the minis), and hopefully he might one day return to Voiceplay full-time, once he's done with his stint in the US Navy band!

[niemernuet]

i honestly don't care which blossoming romance prompt you chose just give me the franjo/arnaud content i'm in such dying need of i'm begging you🫠🫶🏻

Thank youuu so much for your prompt. 🥰😍 Your genius truly is unsurpassed! I chose nr 22 "playful teasing", and while it's just a short text I really think I'll have to continue it at a later time because these two are just too sweet. But first of all:

And now:

The last remains of the ski slopes lie like white ribbons wrapped around the brown mountainside. The artificial snow has withstood the spring sun another day, and only the brown patches further down in the valley reveal the constant struggle to keep it that way. It is long past the operating hours of the ski lifts, and all the tourists have been chased off the mountain because tonight the restaurant at the top is closed for the public. Outside, on the big terrace overlooking the vast summits, most of the younger club members are waiting for dinner, some with a cheap little plastic trophy in their hands, some smoking, and all of them drinking. Justin and Daniel intercept Arnaud just as he steps out of the warm restaurant with another bottle of chilled wine.

“Perfect,” Justin says, and holds out his glass. “Just what we need.”

“Actually this one’s for…,” Arnaud says and points towards the group at the other end of the patio but Justin does not let him finish.

“They don’t seem to be lacking,” he says over the shrieking and laughter wafting over from the other side, and cocks his head with a pleading smile. “Meanwhile look at us!”

 Arnaud grins, and with an exaggerated sigh fills their glasses. “I apologise. I know it’s hard for older people to walk the long distance to the bar. I hope they’re not too heavy in your hands. Do you need a straw?”

“I always forget what a funny guy you are,” Daniel answers, and clinks his newly filled glass against Arnaud’s. “Have you thought about switching to slalom? We could have a blast together.”

Arnaud laughs, though the joy in it is missing a bit. “One: Why are you even here? This is not your ski club. And two: I might actually take you up on the offer, so don’t tempt me.”

Justin and Daniel shoot each other a quick glance before Justin plucks the bottle out of Arnaud’s hand, and puts it down on the nearest bar table.

“To answer your first question: Partners are invited too,” Daniel says. “Maybe if you’d make an effort you could also have someone next year.”

Arnaud snorts into his white wine. “Yeah, right. We’re not all as lucky as you two.”

“Damn, I guess you received the list for next season’s groups as well?” Justin asked.

Arnaud puts his glass down. The sun has set behind the mountains, and the soft yet cold wind manages to creep underneath his thermal undershirt. “Am I so easy to read?”

“Only when you’re wallowing in self-pity,” Daniel answers. “Come on, it can’t be that bad. I’m sure Alexis will still be there, right?”

Arnaud’s shoulders slump as he laughs. “Of course he is but he will be more than busy with whatever is going on between him and Gilles and Elian…” He breaks off, and with a frown stares into the distance.

“Are they…” Daniel begins cautiously.

“I don’t know!” Arnaud exclaims, and throws up his hands. “I’m not even sure they know themselves. Also, they’re nowhere near the worst part of next season…” He stares at them with barely hidden desperation as his sorrows burst out of him:

“We’re getting another Bernese! Can you fucking imagine, another bore like Lars? I mean, he’s a nice guy and all but he has no problems to spend an entire day in silence, and you know who has to be silent with him when Ralph’s off facetiming his kids for the hundredth time and Alexis and Elian and Gilles are off who fucking knows where doing who fucking knows what? Exactly, me! And now imagine there’s a second guy next to Lars and it will be just the three of us and every time I will try to keep a conversation going I will only hear ‘huh?’ because apparently my accent is so very difficult to understand.”

The first people are filing back into the restaurant and throw curious glances in their direction but Arnaud does not care. Not when he finally has someone who understands what he is going through.

Justin laughs, throws his arm around Arnaud’s shoulder, and softly guides him towards the door. “Let it all out, kid! We have all night.”

-----

Lodgings for the second groups, with the athletes not part of the national team yet, usually have to do with less.

“But this is a new low,” Arnaud mutters to himself as he leans deep into the closet, one of the shelves wedged between his foot and the wall, and pulls at the rusty bracket. The musty smell that lingers in the entire room fills his nose to the brim in there, and he can feel the dust bunnies under his fingers as they press against the wood.

“FUCK!” he yells when he slips off the bracket again. He pulls out his head, and inspects the damage to his skin. A short knock at the door is the only warning he gets before it bursts open, and a mountain of bags tumble inside.

“Sorry, this stuff is killing me,” the guy following behind pants as he pushes through the door, and drops his things at the foot of Arnaud’s bed. He puts his hands on his hips as he catches his breath. A few strands of his long bangs cling to his sweaty forehead.

“Third floor without a bloody elevator, are you kidding me? We really have to make it into the national team this season, this is unacceptable. Hi, I’m Franjo.” His eyes turn into two narrow crescents as a big smile spreads over his face. He holds out his hand, and Arnaud only has to extend his because the room is not big enough to keep a reasonable distance anyway.

“Arnaud,” Arnaud says after a moment that is just a tad too long.

“I know,” Franjo says, still smiling, and begins to kick his suitcase and bags towards the other bed.

Arnaud blinks at him. He is wearing shorts, and the shirt with their organisation’s logo has wrinkles where the backpack pulled it up.

“I’m sorry, I thought I’d be with Lars again?”

Franjo looks over his shoulder. “There was…a change of plans…as I understand it.”

Arnaud frowns, and Franjo rolls his eyes.

“Don’t tell him I told you but he doesn’t want to bunk with you anymore because you talk too much. He’d rather be with Ralph because he says he talks a lot too but only to his phone…or the kids in his phone, I don’t know.”

“Oh.”

“Though I can’t say that you do, at least so far.”

Arnaud blinks again, his mouth still hanging half open. “You’ve been in here one minute,” he finally manages.

Franjo stops kicking his bags, and opens the zipper of the biggest one. “True, I give you that,” he concedes. “Also I’ve heard you yell ‘fuck’ out in the hallway so I guess I’ve interrupted at a very inconvenient time. Sorry about that.”

“I did not…,” Arnaud exclaims, sputtering indignantly until he realises that Franjo is laughing.

“Very funny,” he mutters, and hopes that the ancient, unsightly drapes keep enough of the sunlight out so his burning cheeks are not too visible. His hopes at his embarrassment staying hidden shatter though when Franjo turns around, and steps right next to him.

“Thanks,” he smiles, and takes in the large gap between the shelves in the closet. “Is there something wrong with it?”

The faint smell of his aftershave cuts through the mustiness emanating from the closet, and it takes all of Arnaud’s self-control to answer within a socially acceptable time. “It wobbles and tilts back as soon as I put a stack of clothes on it. I think the brackets aren’t on the same height but I can’t get them out.” He looks at the superficial scratches along his index finger, and the small scab that is already forming over it.

“Oh no, what happened to your dainty fingers?” Franjo asks, and again Arnaud sucks in air before he recognises the wide grin on Franjo’s face. “Let me try, this looks like a job for a pro.”

“Of course, as soon as I find one,” Arnaud snorts, though he does take a step back until he bumps against the nightstand.

“Ha ha,” Franjo says, his head stuck into the closet. “I’ll have you know you’re…come on you little bugger…aha!” With a triumphant laugh he stands up straight again, and holds up the rusty piece of metal that used to carry one corners of the shelf for the last few decades.

“See?” he says, and holds out his hand towards Arnaud. “That’s why you need a carpenter for a job like this. Though I don’t think we can put this back in, it is totally rusted…” He sticks his head back into the wardrobe, and examines the other three brackets. “I’m sure one of the service men will have a pair of pliers to get the rest out. And the supermarket’s still open, if we’re lucky they’re carrying a box of those…and if not we could go to Sion tomorrow after the training…”

“You really are one?”

Franjo breaks off, and tilts his head until he can look at Arnaud from the inside of the closet. The hair on top of his head is longer than the rest, and falls over his eyes.

“A carpenter?” Arnaud asks.

“Of course,” Franjo answers. “And what are you? Other than a fast skier.”

Arnaud shrugs, and awkwardly crosses his arms in front of his chest. “I work in a bank part-time in spring and summer.”

“A banker?” Franjo laughs, and takes a step back, away from the old hole in the wall. “That’s good, you can calculate the depreciation of the new brackets, and whether they fit in our budget while we go to the supermarket.”

Arnaud laughs, staring at the rusty piece of metal in Franjo’s palm. For a second he wonders what it would feel like if he put his own hand in his, and again takes too long to realise that Franjo is staring at him.

“Unless you want to stay here?” Franjo asks. “But it’s not like we have to be anywhere until dinner.”

“No, no!” Arnaud hurries to say. “I’d love to come along.”

With a grin, Franjo turns around, and tears the door open. “Cool.”