#it's a song with a very wintery feel

[heartorbit]

figure skating set right now please. thanks

[kumas-realm]

think I'll make a moodboard for Sudafed next >:)

[orianightshade]

Mastermind Character Aesthetics: Eli Frieden

I found this template on Instagram and have been obbsessed with ever since by making aesthics for my characters and then I was like let's do it for Mastermind characters!!

Eli Frieden

[jolapeno]

cold, biting

frankie morales x f!reader | masterlist

Painting you in it, all varying shades, a masterpiece he thinks he’s came across, but really just became the first to admire.

wc: 1.3k warnings: smut (18+). mentions of smut. keeping warm. jo writing. my spelling. notes: I wrote this on limited sleep, cold, and very much wanting to have some form of body heat next to me. so maybe I should warn about spelling too.

It’s cold, biting.

All wintery breath trying to pierce through, bleed over memories of warmer months.

It makes your skin practically weep if it slithers from under the thick duvet, it trying to kiss you, the air tinged only with bitterness. It’s crawling, climbing—sliding up over surfaces, its icy touch desperate to create steam by meeting something warm.

Seeking, hunting—it wants to wrap its claws around flesh, seep into bone. It wants to nestle down deep inside of you so you carry that chill around all day.

It isn’t able to, because of him.

Him and his broad shoulders, loose curls, summer-kind smile and wiry hair that doesn’t grow in full places along his beard—a little space you trace, pretend it’s a heart. It’s where I kissed you all those years ago, wasn’t it? You would tease. Remembering a time when you were more cowardly than confident, more afraid than unforgiving. You’re thankful that isn’t you now

Yeah, he always says, left a mark on me. It’s always said with warmth, all comforting. Usually, his arms come around your waist, a kiss on your forehead.

You hope he’s aware he’s left marks of his own. Little things imprinted on you, carved in you, perfect places for his favourite colour to go, his favourite song, the things which make a bad day a little easier to get through.

You’d let him in during the spring, what feels like a thousand years ago. The flowers opening, the air warm and the sun shining. But, you fell for him in the summer over a year ago—BBQ smoke and little lanterns, fingers finding the softness of his skin and liking the way brick felt on your bare shoulders when the two of you stole a moment.

In the fall just gone, his things found themselves with yours, merged, a house becoming a home. Surfaces no longer innocent, but a playground, nails scratching, leaving marks of your own against things as he made your eyes head fill with stars and your body thrum with nothing but pleasure.

Winter brings something else.

It brings softer declarations whispered against the soap-sud glass. It brings the hungry look from him when he sees you in his clothes, even handing you a pair of socks just because. It brings longing when the bed feels too big, hand stroking out where he’s supposed to be��his voice down the phone doing nothing to fill the void.

He’s always wanted, practically a necessity, but in the colder months, it’s a demand. There’s room for complaint in the warmer months when his skin is clammy, legs far too desperate to slide themselves around yours. Body letting heat escape, it all rolling out, washing over the room.

But, it’s welcomed in the winter.

Pull me a little closer, you think. Lashes fluttering, smile half-sleepy. And he does, arm coming out, palm on your back, pushing and guiding until you’re more him than you are you. No clear line where the two of you part, just one singular soul.

There’s frost on the outside, and condensation on the inside glass. But the yellowing of the morning is still persevering in blanketing you in natural warmth. You look so beautiful, he whispers—and when he says it you believe him. Staring into his eyes, unwilling to find a single fabrication. Your stomach pooling with heat, a hunger awakening in you—one you have more often than not around him—as you lift your eyes to the incoming morning.

The window has popped, need to fix that, he continues, barely above a whisper, following your eye line, lingering on it.

So, you kiss him. Icy lips against his, feeling warmth bloom in your throat, descend down to your lungs. You lick into his mouth, tasting fire, hoping it fills your stomach, and forces heat to bathe your bones. Smother me, you want to ask, but instead, he makes flames lick up your spine. Pushing fabric to the side, fingers tracing, finding your seam—teasing, taunting. Making toes curl under sheets and fabric, little whispered pleas coat the skin close to his ear. Is this all for me?

Yes.

Always yes.

Frankie is precise, and knows just what to do. Listening to you, trained in doing so, even when words don’t leave your lips. It’s a gift, he smirked once, mouth coated in your slick, tongue flicking out against your core.

You couldn’t argue, he was a treat.

At some stage you’d wondered, practically suspected he’d found a manual for you. Figured out each zone that made you putty—thank fuck he did. He never leaves you wanting, never lets you beg for too long. Too eager to please, too happy to give.

You want my cock, yeah? Your response comes out breathless, more air punched from your lungs when he finally answers himself. So thick, so long—all compact, all you can think about as he stills, as he rubs two circles on your hip in that way he does until you relax around him, allow him to move. So tight, baby.

There are worse things to be than full of Frankie. You’ve experienced a portion of time before it, it doesn't hold a candle to the time that came when he rested his arm on the doorframe, and told you (in the most asking, polite way) that he was going to kiss you. You want to be full of him always, in all the ways it counts—like this, and in your heart, and in your soul.

A need for waffles on Sundays where At Last plays, and Wednesdays when he brings home a bag of takeout and the two of you see how long you’ll make it through the show before you’re on his lap. Insatiable, some would say, but it’s hard not to be when you’re happy.

His hand fans out over your lower back, skating over your skin—murmurs of softness, of perfection. Painting you in it, all varying shades, a masterpiece he thinks he’s came across, but really just became the first to admire.

Never stop.

You’d told him that then when his mouth—chapped and salty from pretzels—slanted over yours that first time. You repeat it now as his hips move, as he slides his hand up and across your shoulder blades.

And it’s not long until you’re panting, until his name forms part of your unconscious narrative. Repeating it, interspersing it with expletives and moans, each he takes, captures, bottles and keeps.

He’s a collector like that, a person who has a drawer solely of things which don’t make up anything on their own—screws, bolts, plugs and cables. You often wonder if he has a drawer for you inside his head, an array of Polaroids, made up from moments like this where he tells you how good you look, how beautiful you are, how perfect you feel hugging his cock, how good your pussy feels—

The room is filled with sinful sounds, wet, skin slapping. Music to the ears.

More, you shout only in the void in your head. Nails gripping, body tense, taunt and coiled.

Then you’re shuddering, blissfully turning to warm lava—spreading out, relaxing, unspooling. Held in place, mouth finding his, writing poetry on his tongue before his movements twitch, break their pattern, and your throat is coated in a moan of your name.

You swallow it, the way he says it. Makes you hate it a little less, and makes you want to hear it over and over—because in the day you prefer the nicknames, but at night you prefer the one on your certificates.

Breath caught, little wisps of air leaving both of you with each pant, he brushes your cheek—skin like a blaze, keeping the shiver from ever gracing you.

Let’s not go anywhere today, you say, sleep-filled and soft. Okay, he responds, sliding against you.

It’s less cold, and less biting.

But that’s because of him, your nose buried into his neck, heart hammering against your side. Then you hear the heating click on—but you still prefer him to keep you warm.

— for @secretelephanttattoo because it’s cold, I adore her and I want to make her smile.

[tokyo-debunker-idk]

A Song of Ice and Aneurysm | 01

Summary: Jin Kamurai might be feared and respected as the wintery King of Frostheim, but even he is no match for a cursed honor student denser than any iceberg known to mankind.

Pairing: Kamurai Jin x Reader

Genre: Humor, romantic comedy, fluff, Jin struggling to emote, eventual smut, COMPLETE

18+, minors DNI

~~~~~

Jin: You better have a good fucking explanation, peasant

You gulp when you read the text sent by Frostheim’s haughty, commanding, somewhat terrifying Captain. It's barely been an hour since you've returned to solid ground from the terrifying foray into the sea, and part of you wants to dive right back in to avoid whatever confrontation Jin is expecting. You should have known that with your horrendous luck, something would go wrong during your mission with the Jabberwock ghouls.

Being taken to an illusory sunken ship in the guise of an undersea palace on the back of a talking turtle that ended up being progeny of a terrifying anomaly probably wouldn't have been your first guess, but being MIA for an unfortunate amount of time shouldn't have been outside the realm of expectation.

And, given the trend of everything in your life going atrociously, perhaps you should have considered the consequences of asking the Captain of the most prestigious house in Darkwick for such a huge favor, on such short notice.

Not only had he agreed and provided you with a boat (yacht, nearly) with only a day of turn-around time, but he had even staffed the craft with employees that had likely panicked upon your disappearance beneath the waves.

It wasn't exactly your fault that Towa had so impulsively leapt off the literal deep end, or that a strange wave had knocked you into the water after him. But then again, none of the disasters that have happened to you have been directly your control. You could have at least tried to prepare, or figured out a way to send communications, or had some sort of contingency plan. At this point, you should know better.

But alas, you are twice (Thrice? Ten times, at this point? Too many, definitely) the fool for being caught with your metaphorical pants down again.

You know that ignoring the text or giving feeble excuses will only piss Jin off further, so with a sigh you begin trotting towards the Frostheim dormitory, dread weighing down every footstep.

Well, at least you'll get to admire his perfect cheekbones while he yells at you.

~~~~~

"Why would I give a fuck about the boat?"

For some reason, Jin looks even more pissed than when you entered, and you feel your apprehension beginning to unravel into panic. Had you fucked something else up you can't even remember? At this rate you're going to be laundering the Captain's shirts until your curse kills you.

Though then you might be able to snag a couple for sleeping. Your premeditation of possible theft is only due to the fact that the material is the most luxurious your broke ass has ever felt, and that Jin's rich enough not to notice.

It's definitely not because his cologne smells masculine and delicious. That would be creepy.

Jin heaves an exasperated sigh, and your thoughts wander back to the reason you're currently here, at his mercy. Well, what you thought that was the reason. Now you are at a loss.

As if reading your confusion, he scowls and elaborates.

"I can always find another boat. Other things aren't so easily replaced."

Agonizing seconds pass as you wrack your brain for whatever could be so important that the Jin Kamurai, corporate heir, would have trouble replacing it. And then, finally, you get it.

Your sudden comprehension must show on your face, because his own relaxes. Thank goodness, too, because while Jin is gorgeous when he's angry, he's downright ethereal when he's not.

"Oh," you breathe, giving him a smile of understanding. "Don't worry, that dress you sent me is safe and sound in my dorm!"

Considering his background and the exquisite gowns of the other Frostheim ladies at the ball, it must have been very expensive, perhaps hand-made and thus more valuable than a factory-made vessel. You can't imagine it having sentimental value to him. To you, however, the lovely dress is not only a symbol of your first completed mission, but an indicator that some here accept you. You stomp down the hopeful part of your heart that wishes it was more than just mere acceptance, because that would be too unrealistic, too greedy.

The safety of the dress also does not seem to be the cause of his ire, however, because his expression is now so blank it's actually scarier than his anger. Deathly silence stronger than any anomalous sound-proofing begins to permeate the room as the regal ghoul stares at you, and you begin to sweat in spite of the cold. Perhaps he's upset that it's still in your possession?

You immediately feel like an idiot for not seeing it sooner. Of course it hadn't been a gift for you to keep, but rather, a loan.

It's obvious in hindsight – he needed to show that he was still the powerful man in charge of Frostheim, and you were a conveniently neutral party he could dance with to draw more eyes.

The realization stings a little more than you thought, and not for the first time you curse yourself for developing an attraction to someone so clearly out of your league. Thank god you've never let it show, soothing your pride if not your emotions.

"I-I can return it now, if you need it back!"

Your voice cracks a little, but you're otherwise able to keep your tone stable. You're a big girl, you can take a hint. It's pointless to feel an attachment to something that was never yours to begin with.

The offer does not appear to soothe the beast before you, however, because frosty silence emanates from Jin in ominous waves. You wonder if it might have been a good idea to write your will before your mission.

"Er, of course I'd have it dry cleaned first…?"

A muscle twitches in his (very well-defined) jaw, and you begin to pray.

~~~~~

Tohma Ishibashi is having what might be the best day of his entire life.

He watches silently as the illustrious, dauntless, emotionally constipated Captain of Frostheim malfunctions in the face of guileless misunderstanding. Is it really that difficult for the man to simply tell you he was worried?

You glance backwards to meet his gaze, and your own holds so much terror at Jin's oppressive silence that Tohma clears his throat to suppress a laugh.

"I believe, Y/N," the Vice Captain interjects, regretting the need to break the magnificently suffocating atmosphere, "that our Captain means that there are certain members of our house who would have been most upset had anything happened to you."

Tohma had almost decided not to interfere, because the Jin Kamurai's wordless suffering due to his own inability to communicate is a delicious treat. But all good things must come to an end, and prolonging such an entertaining scene would only take away the sweetness of the memory.

And that bashful smile of yours, surprised and a little bit grateful at the understanding that you are important to them, is worth it all on its own.

~~~~~

Jin doesn't know who to kill first. You, Tohma, or himself.

Not only have the meaning of his words flown over your head despite him practically announcing that he's grown rather fond of you, but the twitch of Tohma's lips shows that the Vice-Captain is enjoying this situation entirely too much.

He almost forgives his second when the bespectacled asshole finally deigns to clarify the situation, because your smile is warm enough to thaw the angry chill that's coated his heart.

"Ah, I see… I'm so sorry I didn't realize," you murmur, looking contrite and a little embarrassed. That's more fucking like it.

You had fucking disappeared, into the fucking ocean where humans famously cannot breathe, where there was a monster tearing fish and other anomalies apart. You were in danger, alone but for the Jabberwock rabble, and Jin was stuck here with no idea where you were and no way to get to you.

You should be sorry for making him wonder if he'll ever see your stupid ass again.

So many social climbers are willing to read far too much into a single look, a moment of eye-contact, one mere hello. He's shown you far too much favor already, even if part of it can be written off as repayment for giving him the ability to use his stigma again.

Why the fuck would he want the dress back? Do you think he wants to fucking wear it? He got it for you, tailored to your size based on the measurements in Darkwick's records. He doesn't remember what they are because they were only important to ensure the gown suited you perfectly.

You're an idiot. An irritating mixture of meek and headstrong. Someone who will take stupid menial duties from him without (much) complaint, like a doormat, but then the same day will also investigate paranormal murder with no promise of safety other than what others can give you. You're an open book, easy to read and impossible to understand.

You have grown on him, a sneaky tumor whose cells now circulate through his veins and invade his thoughts. Do you really think that just anyone has his contact information? Or has the privilege to be allowed to call him? And on top of that, be able ask for a fucking favor without immediately being blocked?

You needed a boat, so he got you a fucking boat. A big one. If one day you need the moon, he will find a fucking rocket. And eventually, he'll catch the damn flower that cursed you.

It is ridiculous that it's taken Tohma practically spelling it out for you to realize–

"I didn't know Kaito and Luca would be so worried about me that it would impact you."

You can not be fucking serious. Something dies inside of Jin, and he thinks it might be his sanity.

"It's really sweet of them, I never thought anyone would care enough about me to notice I was gone, but still. They're adults, and they need to understand the reality of my situation and their own responsibilities."

First, he's going to murder you for being this fucking stupid. Then, he is going to off the first-year brats because you think they're sweet. Next on the list will be Tohma, who has just let out what, from any less refined individual, would be classified as a snort.

And then he's going to kill every fucker at Jabberwock for putting you in danger in the first place.

"Shut the fuck up."

~~~~~

This is not going well.

In fact, if you were still on the boat Jin apparently does not care about, you would say it is currently sinking. And, true to form, you have no lifeboats prepared.

"Get out."

Ah, but one has been fortuitously offered to you, and with immense relief you turn to escape.

"Not you. Him."

You knew it was too good to be true, yet you still give Tohma a pleading glance as he bows gracefully. He meets your eyes with a calm smile. Then, like the cold bastard he is, leaves you to your doom without a backwards glance.

The heavy doors close behind him with an ominous thud, and you eye Jin nervously. His threats from your first meeting echo in your head like an alarm.

"My room has anomalous soundproofing. You can scream and cry all you like. No one's gonna hear you."

Oh god. You're fucked. You're so, so fucked.

"Come here."

Jin can't use his stigma without you, and yet you find yourself obeying, his commanding tone impossible to resist. Your legs move until you're standing before him.

Even though he is lounging on his luxurious couch and you're on your feet, he still manages to look down on you. His icy blue eyes pierce into your own, and despite the nervous thrum of your chest alerting you to danger, you're unable to look away. You've never been able to stare back at him so blatantly.

Somehow, the longer you look, the more beautiful he becomes.

You're close enough to catch hints of his cologne, and it clouds your senses as if beckoning you forward. You dazedly wonder if you should be admiring your potential murderer. But it's not your fault that he has such full lips, or beautiful silvery hair that looks perfect for running your fingers through.

It's not fair for that to be all you can think about when you're this close to evisceration.

"You're a fucking idiot."

His blunt words slice through the confused haze in your mind, and indignation restores your self-awareness.

"Excuse me? That is so ru–eep!"

He grabs your wrist to tug you closer, and you let out an embarrassingly inelegant noise as you lose your balance. And perhaps your grasp on reality, because you have somehow tumbled into Jin Kamurai's lap, practically straddling him.

No, you've definitely lost your sanity, because instead of pushing you away or lopping off your head for your transgression, your body seems to believe that one of his hands is resting on your hip, and the other is brushing hair out of your face. Perhaps you have already died, and this is actually heaven. You must have done enough good in the world to outweigh all the tampons you flushed down the toilet in the past.

Jin's thumb trails gently over your cheek, and you automatically lean into his warmth. He's normally so harsh with his words, aloof in a way that shuts others out with thick walls of ice. Yet that hidden, secret side of him is evident in the softness of his touch.

"J-Jin," your voice quivers, a whisper because for some reason it feels like you shouldn't speak any louder. If against all odds, this actually is reality, you don't want to break whatever spell is being woven around you. You don't want this gentle moment to ever end.

There's something you don't understand in those mesmerizing eyes, and his pretty, pretty lips of his curve into what, for Jin, is a smile. It spills into your chest like sunlight through the clouds, and for a moment you wonder why you were ever scared.

"Bianerus."

~~~~~

Part 2

[riaki]

a spritz of peppermint | megumi fushiguro x reader

pt.6 of christmas event! cw: petnames i think idk, not proofread, there’s probably other stuff i’m missing but wtv happy birthday the prettiest king pls come back the food is cold

today is a very special day.

megumi notices that you rise early— mostly because when he wakes up in the morning, rubbing his sleep-heavy eyes groggily with a groan, he notices you’re not there. he rolls over, and smacks his face into cold sheets, devoid of your heat.

it pisses him off. so he starts his special day out as a grouch.

when he eventually crawls out of bed and makes his way into the kitchen after pulling on some sweats, though— he stops just short of the threshold to that sweet smelling cozy haven you love to spend your time in. the scent of pine needles and fresh chocolate orange wafts across the space, warm and welcoming and awfully wintery. he’s impartial to the cold— but he likes seeing your nose get red, so he guesses that’s one point positive.

“megumi?” your soft voice drifts across the open space, and the frost around his grumpy heart melts just a little; a crack in the frozen surface of the lake.

he reluctantly emerges from the shadow of the hallway, past the bundle of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. the thought causes a memory to flash across his mind— your sweet smile and your prettier laugh; a distinct feeling of fuzzy warmth like a knitted sweater spreading across his cheeks when you pulled him close by the sleeve of his shirt and leaned in—

he shakes his head, trying to dash the stray thought. he’s supposed to be mad. it has no right to be there.

“why’d you get up so early?” he sighs heavily as he joins you at your side, scratching the back of his neck and running a hand through his unruly hair. you smiled sheepishly, turning to face him and you wrap your arms around his middle, squeezing lightly as a silent apology. he takes it with a grumble, snaking his arms around your waist and resting his face in your hair to bask in the scent of home before pulling away.

“it’s a secret.” you grinned, and he glares down at you, clicking his teeth in annoyance. you just laugh like the angel you are, leaving no room for guilt. you’re wearing one of his sweaters; you smell like him, and he supposes it makes up for the way you ditched him this morning.

“i expect compensation.” he grumbles, leaning against the counter as he watches you move about the kitchen, pale winter sunlight painting you like an ethereal dancer beneath the surface of misty lake water, crystal clear in your beauty. it’s mesmerizing.

you laughed, and his teeth dig into his bottom lip. “what, missed me? were you feeling lonely, gumi?” you smiled.

he just shoots you a piercing glare, the color of icicles in his eyes, but the warmth of your grin melts it away. you spend the next few moments in a comfortable silence, preparing a french toast topped with sweet berries and powdered sugar that looks so soft megumi could probably sink into it, until your lovely voice breaks the crisp morning silence.

“want black coffee?”

…

that’s weird. he never hesitates. and you know he takes his coffee black; of course you do. not because he wants to look cool, or look suave in another person’s eyes… well, except for you, of course. but not in the area of caffeine doses. and to be perfectly clear, all he needs is a dose of you to get him going.

he clears his throat. “can you make me hot chocolate?”

you pause, and he almost wants to bite his tongue off. why is he so embarrassed? but you just chuckle, like morning bird song across fresh dew on the grass.

“switching it up, huh? that’s cute.” you hum, and his face burns hot like embers in a brick fireplace. he coughs, throat scratchy like the pricks of a pinecone— but you make no note of it, simply going about your day.

he’s content to watch as you fish around in the rum-colored cabinets, pulling out a crinkly bag of cocoa powder. you put him on milk microwaving duty and he busies himself, lithe pale fingers unscrewing the carton of milk and pouring it into his favorite little painted dog mug. you were the one who’d made it; that silly little ceramics class you insisted on taking clearly didn’t help you too much in the way of smoothing down the bumps and blotches on the mug, but it holds your fingerprint, so he might as well memorize the shape of your hands when you’re not there.

megumi’s snapped back to reality when you grab a candy cane from the mini tree you decorated together sitting on the kitchen counter, smashing it up in the wrappings to mix the pepperminty dust with the cocoa powder. he eyes the pile of holiday drug warily as he brings the steaming mug over, placing it before you and leaning against the counter again to watch you work your mystery magic.

“that looks like brown cocai—”

“shh, megumi. keep your pretty mouth shut, please.”

he’s about to butt in again, lips parted before he presses them together irritatedly and resigns to sulk in silence.

you pour the hot chocolate mix into the milk, swishing it together as it forms a pretty spiral of cocoa; the color of dark chai and chocolate tart. he’s content to watch in silence, humming some christmas carol he’d overheard you listening to one gray afternoon— until he realizes you’re opening a bag of those sickeningly sweet and fluffy marshmallows he’d bought you on a whim. he only did it because his mentor told him they made the best gifts, but he’s beginning to realize it was the sweet tooth talking.

“hey— wait… are you going to put those in there, pretty?” he asks, putting a gentle hand on your wrist to stop you from vigorously emptying the bag into his poor victimized hot chocolate mug.

you glance up at him and flash a toothy grin, giving him one of those looks that makes his heart skip a beat. “trust me, gumi! you’re gonna love it.” you laughed, shrugging his hand off, and his lips curve downward. less because of the marshmallows that are toppling into his mug with a splash and more so because you freed yourself from his grasp.

obviously, you notice— your eyebrows knit together, a pinch of guilt weighing upon them like the snow on the streets outside. but it’s wiped away as quickly as it comes; before he knows it, you’re walking away with a bounce in your step, disappearing behind the counter before re-emerging with something behind your back.

“don’t look so sad, gumi. here,” you say, the cadence of your voice as soft and playful as he ever remembers it being when you pull a bunch of roses from behind your back. the bouquet is small and there’s dirt clinging to the stems— but his heart melts at the thought that you hand-picked them, prickly thorns and all, for him. “happy birthday,” you whispered, and his walls break.

“you’re not so different from them, you know.” you hummed, smiling as he takes them from you and gives you an inquisitive, quiet look. “you might be a little prickly on the outside, but you’re just as beautiful. you just have to look a little past the thorns.”

he feels his face flush; at this point, it’s probably as red as the stray candy cane shavings melting in his mug and the vibrant petals of the roses. he splutters and mumbles something annoyed under his breath, but he’s sure you can hear the undercurrent of fondness and affection weaves into each syllable like the beats of his heart, where you’re so close to. megumi thinks you might’ve just cut him open and made a home in his ribcage.

the bunch of handpicked roses for his special day sit on the marble counter dusted with cocoa powder and candy cane shavings, marshmallows bobbing at the surface of his hot chocolate like apples in a bucket as he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you in to press his lips insistently to yours, slow and tender like the way he always loves you. his hands curl around your sides, as if to ground you there; freeze the time in this bubble of warmth, forgetting the chill outside to warm his hands on your skin. you’re so little in his arms; he wants to hold you and never let you go, to keep you under his tree and have you make hot chocolate for him instead of black coffee every morning he wakes up, because it’s fine if you’re not there in bed— as long as you’re waiting for him with open arms elsewhere.

and when he kisses you, he realizes he might not need his hot cocoa to warm his stomach— your lips are as soft and pillowy sweet as the marshmallows melting in his mug, filled with steaming hot cocoa and all the love he could ever wrap his heart in this cozy winter; his christmas gift to you.

he’s grateful today is a special day, if only because of you and his sweet little painted dog mug filled with your heartwarming love.

stop this was so close to being late my (riaki) stuff. don’t repost and/or plagiarize !

[wereallydobevibing]

Oh, to Find Love in Russia | Konig x Reader

I used to post my stories on tiktok under the username @codlover but I figured since tiktok might get banned I should delete that account and post it here. Here’s one of the stories.

Feel free to use my work as a prompt/inspiration. Better yet, feel free to write your own ideal part 2 just MAKE SURE YOU CREDIT AND TAG ME.

WARNINGS: Mentions of injury, specifically written for my delulu girlies💕

The ice, cold air of a wintery Russia rushed through your body like death through Pompeii. With your lips an ungodly shade of purple and your fingers feeling so stupidly numb, you follow the public map displayed on the side of the nearest building to meet a short term comrade in a common tourist area.

It took you some time, having never been to Russia before, but you eventually find yourself walking alongside a very large man who names himself König. He leads you away from the tourist path and into a market area where you both enter a less than busy bar. You agree you’ll talk here, where it was warm and your shivering didn’t hinder your ability to speak.

The next two hours was a conversation of confirming your roles here and the goals that were set to be accomplished – you both were sent to gain intel, but König’s main focus was to serve as your armor, and gaining intel was especially assigned to you, dear reader.

You were not a special forces operator because you were big and strong, or because you had a particular set of skills pertaining to combat at all. Your task-force had elected you to become one of it’s soldiers because you were a holder of intelligence – you were the brain, and everyone else was the body.

Your skills lied in your ability to speak and understand a multitude of languages. Your looks and personality made you attractive to others both romantically or otherwise – people couldn’t help but make themselves known to you. You were good at making them feel so special that it hurt too much to not spill all their flavors into your cup.

Blackbird, they called you; a symbol of beauty and intelligence. You were your team’s little warbler – whatever they needed to know, you were sent to find out, and you always came back chirping your sweet song of intel.

König was quite taken by you from the very start – he’d never met a woman in his field that carried herself with such grace. Overtime, many women in special forces became much like their male colleagues; rough around the edges, heavily drinking and/or smoking, cursing like wounded sailors.

You? You were so clean. Not a single profanity fell from your glossed lips, your voice was smoother than the finest of silk velvets. Your eyes are still warm with the hope of a better world and twinkled with the gentle promise of eternal youth.

Granted, you were still rather fresh in age being in your early 20s. Still, you were special.

As you both got familiar with each other over the next few hours, König grew firmer in his belief that the radiance of your skin was actually your golden soul shining through your pores.

The safe house you’d both been given had been put together at the last minute. A fact that was clear by how it was a small cabin with only a couch in the living room and one bed in the bedroom, certainly not prepared for two. The kitchen was stocked with little snacks and such, but if either of you ever got the taste for a real meal, you’d have to eat out or go grocery shopping.

König was quick to offer you the only room, as you were a lady deserving of privacy.

Over the course of two weeks, you took turns cooking and choosing restaurants. But by week three, you’d become so focused on your task of manipulating a Captain in the Russian anti-group that you’d end up spending every free moment of your day at the desk, documenting the day’s occurrences and future strategies. König became responsible for making sure you both ate – it seemed that if he didn’t feed you, you’d simply forget to do it yourself and starve.

Week four was when the storm arrived, the great finale that signaled the nearing end of every mission – Blackbird had collected everything she needed and was ready to fly on home and feed her findings to her kin. Things were wrapping up and, naturally, that meant shit was going down.

The final day would end with König wounded – he fought well, your knight in shining armor. Of course he won, but he was losing blood from his abdomen and you knew he was in pain.

The jet that was assigned to pick you both up would not arrive until morning. Your due date was not until two days from now, but you’d finished early. Until then, you used what you had to stop the bleeding and make him comfortable.

You leave him on the bed that you’d been sleeping in for the last five weeks, flat on his back. If not for the pain of his stab wound, he might’ve enjoyed drowning in the lingering, feminine scent of shampoo and perfume stuck to the sheets and pillows you burrowed yourself in at night.

You bandage him with delicate fingers – such a stark difference compared to the medics back at the KorTac base. They were always so rough, like hornets pricking and prodding at his body.

He doesn’t notice how your focus was divided between his wound and his bare chest. Your impulsive thoughts, if you gave in to them, would’ve had you resting the palms of your hands flat on his muscles and grazing your fingertips over the ridges.

You tried to be respectful, the man was in pain – but you just couldn’t help your nature as it demanded to behold the glorious sculpture settled before you. Thousands of years ago, König might’ve been the model for ancient Greek statues. He was beautiful.

König sits up on the mattress when you finish, which now is stained with speckles of blood, clenching his jaw as he did. Your hands come up on his bare chest and you stop him.

“What are you doing?” You ask, bewildered, “You have to rest, König, you’re hurt.”

“This is your bed, schatz,” König grunted, “I will go to the couch.”

Now that the mission is over, you suddenly feel a wave of guilt come crashing down onto you. You’d been so busy thinking about what you needed to do, how you were going to get your hands on the information you’d been sent out to receive that you didn’t ever stop to think about König’s comfort. And here he was, spending every single day of the last five weeks watching your back, making sure you ate, and that you were comfortable. All he did was think about you.

As you stare at him, your heart begins pulsing erratically. Your face grows warm with the sudden realization that this big, brutal, soldier of a man was such a gentleman. He’d been so kind and considerate, looking over your shoulder for you like he was born to do it and not just because it was his job.

Your hands raise to cradle his masked face. You think about how this six-foot-ten beast had been sleeping on that tiny, poor excuse for a couch for nearly two months for the sake of your comfortability, and how he would do it even now when he was in pain.

Without a second thought, you go in and kiss him through the fabric of his mask – a little peck of admiration for his chivalry, a humble praise for being a rare man.

König stares at you when you pull back, he’s stunned. All these weeks of very subtly flirting with you … he thought you’d never notice, or even reciprocate his interest. König figured that you both would separate at the end of this story like Orpheus and Eurydice, he’d be damned to never know you again and you’d forget him as soon as he was gone.

With your hands still holding either side if his jaw, you tell him, “Lay down, König. Here.”

He brings up a large hand to meet one of yours, using the other to hold himself upright and stroking your wrist affectionately with his thumb, “You will not sleep on the couch, schatz.”

“No,” You agreed. “We will both stay here, on the bed, and that way if you need anything, I’m right here to help you.”

Still not believing what’s happening, he tries again to rise from the bed, only for you to guide him back down until his head rested on one of the pillows.

You ask, “That’s okay, isn’t it?”

König, beneath his mask, feels his lips curling upward as he laughs breathlessly.

He grins, “Okay?”

It was perfect.

[megpricephotography]

Visit to Deer Park with Flynn, March 20th '24. The trees there still look wintery but it feels like spring. A warm breeze in the air, all the little song birds were singing away in the hedgerows, lambs out & about, soft green grass growing & flowers beginning to appear as well.

Flynn got very excited about the prospect of going to a stream & the pond, which you can see in the background of the pic below. In his hurry to go have a paddle, he ran far ahead. A bit too far! However, despite the distance between us & the temptation of nearby water to play in, when I called Flynn's name, he immediately stopped & when asked to sit, he sat nicely & then recalled happily.

Spring flowers, plus a sneaky collie in the background... lying in wait.

[seaofreverie]

Sparkstember Day 1: Halfnelson

This album is SO GREAT!! On my first listen I was immediately very impressed by it and I really love how it has this very particular early 70s rock sound that I'm a big fan of, while still being distinctly Sparks and its own special thing, at a time when Sparks was just starting to become its thing - the heart of it all was there from the very start! While it's not my top #1 favourite Sparks album or even one of my top 5 favourites (which is a nebulous category anyway that's likely to change and shift with time of course, and not even something I pay THAT much attention to) it's definitely still UP THERE and a very special album in my heart that I revisit quite often. Especially when I need something to simply relax but also appreciate some of that early Sparks' experimental and... almost whimsical? sound.

This album also reminds me of winter, a very snowy one at that, and that's in big part because of when I started listening to it for sure, but some of that vibe is already there in the music anyway if you ask me. Walking around a Christmas market in the city and hearing random tunes from this album playing in my head all the while, that's one great memory I have from last year. If I were to give this album some sort of visual representation it would definitely involve a lot of browns and other earthy tones - it would be very dark and mysterious without being scary or truly unnerving necessarily - think something like the Edith Piaf (Said It Better Than Me) music video, but less colorful and involving more wooden materials (yes, this is VERY specific and also definitely an image that's supported by that wintery association, as well as the imagery that my brain came up with for Simple Ballet, but more about that below...).

Favourite songs (and other highlights):

Wonder Girl

Roger

High C

Fletcher Honorama (the entire atmosphere this song has is incomparable with anything else)

Simple Ballet (this one was a later favourite but the IMAGERY and atmopshere here is, once again, very special, I actually developed an entire music video idea in my head for it at this point, even if it feels very vague)

Saccharine and the War (probably my favourite on the album)

No More Mr. Nice Guys (THAT guitar solo!! a real mind-blower on my first listen too)

[crepesuzette2023]

Your account is honestly such a blessing. I’ve found so many good Mclennon fics because of you it’s actually insane. Now for my ask, what are some good AU Mclennon fics ?

Thank you for asking! I already listed a few AU stories in my overall faves post, e.g., under J/P without the Beatles—but I didn't really focus on fully realized, different-time-different-place-different-everything-AU stories. Here are a few I loved:

in our house we never get bored (@backbenttulips): The Beatles live in a polyamorous marriage à la sedoretu (Ursula LeGuin). Enchanting and enchanted. Soothing.

a great threat (@pauls1967moustache). Yoko is a woman and an artist, and so is Paul. Theirs is the superior battle for John Lennon's apple. A battle for each other, really. I can't overstate how much this works for me. They compete for fame and artistic collaboration, not for anyone's half-hard dick. This feels like the real Paul/Yoko dynamic in many ways.

@saint-mona: You Gave Me the Word. 1958. John is troubled after his mother's death, and befriends Paul, a bookstore owner who shares a past with Julia. Paul and John become friends—and more? Sensual and tender. Younger John & older Paul are good for each other.

snugglesweaters: You Might As Well Arsk: Hilarious, uplifting, and profound epistolary/email modern AU, with excellent (written) supporting turns by Ivan and George. It does take a fucking village.

@dailyhowl: Sleeping Sand, Morning Moon : On the other end of the tonal spectrum, this is a long, dreamy and wintery novella about grieving London playwright Paul and Scottish village eccentric John, and their long, slow way to each other. Set in 1966. Contains a surprising core of Paul & Brian, and very interesting memories of Paul/Ian.

Only a Northern Song (@stonedlennon): 1963, Liverpool: Paul works in a record store (yes, for Mr. Brian), and John is a dock worker and poet. They find each other. A long, long time after reading this, I can still 'hear' the two of them talking to each other.

Thank you @javelinbk for pointing me to and why the sea is boiling hot (madamboogie)—a reincarnation fic set starting in the late 90's. I'm only a few chapters in, but it's interesting and different!

Speaking of: @javelinbk also wrote many great AU's: John and Paul as the two nice men at the flowershop (Double Fantasy), Paul as wealthy business man, and reluctant #1 son, with John as his hot mess driver (The Life of Riley), John and Paul as stepbrothers after Jim gets married to Mimi (Brother Dearest with the follow-up I love even more, because it's melancholy and romantic and complicated, and it has Mike McCartney: Father and Son)—but a recent favorite is Our Version of Events, in which John Lennon is introduced to Beatles fan fiction by May Pang, and has questions for Paul. Set in '71. I love how this one is both an ode to fan fiction and a damn good story (with a non-tropey ending).

I also enjoyed many AU stories by @unchaineddaisychain. For instance: You've Got to Pick Up Every Stitch (Halloween! Modern AU, Paul is John's boyfriend for the night to stick it to John's ex, very sweet morning after), We are Stardust (Brit Paul and NYer John meet at Woodstock in '69, and it's so fucking romantic), and These Nights (modern AU, slightly jaded rock journalist John unexpectedly spends a night with rising pop star Paul. Cold shower, please!)

[waterlilychaser]

ooh id love to know why you associate remus with summer and sirius with winter :D

there’s a couple reasons!

first is bc choices by messermoon takes up 95% of my brain capacity, and in that reg is described as fall and james as spring so then i was like hmmm then who would the other seasons be?

ahh it feels hard to explain because it’s really so much based off of vibes but i really just see remus as earthy? like he’s standing out in a cornfield and the summer sun is blazing down on him and you can’t tell where the earth starts and he begins. anon, idk if you’ve read the raven cycle but the only way i can think to describe it is the way adam parrish is described. but maybe that’s just bc they are variants 2me. oh! also the song summer child by conan gray is my remus lupin anthem so that probably makes me associate the season with him too.

and then for sirius it is really just vibes too. like i feel like i don’t really have images of what characters look like, but more what their essence is. and sirius is creamy white porcelain skin juxtaposed with shiny black hair and leather and idk it just feels very wintery. he has a cold beauty, but he can also represent for so much warmth and joyfulness that comes with the holidays. that come from being with people that you love. and i feel like that is when sirius would let himself show his true personality rather than putting on a performance of charm. when he’s with the people that he loves.

anyway, i realized i realllly can’t explain the images i see in my head lol, but hopefully that makes a little sense! also if anyone wants i can share my sirius playlist from last winter so you can kinda see some more of the vibes :)

[multi-fandom-trash-22]

An Ocean Away ~ Sebastian Sallow x Reader

A/N: Song fic oneshot from the (unofficial) Bridgerton musical "Ocean Away" with reader and Sebastian Sallow. This idea has been in my head since I've listened to this song and seeing as though I don't know how to make animatics, a fanfic is the next best thing lol. I know there's a bunch of bs going on with those who made the unofficial Bridgerton musical but I still love the songs so meh. This fanfic will have spoilers so don't be mad if you haven't finished the game.

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

~Reader POV~

It's finally here. The winter ball.

After the tragic events that took place last year, the Professors decided to host a ball to boost the students moral and help them forget about it a bit.

It'll be hard for me to forget. I still blame myself for Professor Fig's death.

Life's been hard since last year. My whole world was so full so quickly, only to have some of it ripped away from me just as fast.

Another person I've lost is Sebastian.

I managed to convince Ominis not to turn Sebastian in for the incident with his uncle. He wasn't happy about it, but I knew he didn't want to send his best friend away. No matter how strong his moral compass may be.

Though Sebastian stayed at Hogwarts, he started to drift away.

He didn't seem to want anything to do with Ominis and I no matter what we did to try to speak to him.

When summer finally came, we didn't hear from Sebastian at all.

We kept ourselves company with each other however.

Ominis and I became quite close during summer break.

The summer months flew by quickly. It was time to go back to school.

I was dreading it at first. The halls reminded me too much of all the hardships from the year prior.

My friends really helped me through everything. They were the perfect distraction when I started to fall into a slump.

When the Professors first announced the winter ball at the beginning of the school year, many students were excited.

Only 6th years and up were able to attend.

That was a few months ago. With it being the end of December, the ball was finally apon us.

Sebastian still hasn't spoken to Ominis or I. I see him less and less in class and in the halls.

Ominis and I decide to go to the ball together. Only as friends of course.

Ominis dorned his house colors, wearing a deep emerald green tux with a velvety texture. He looked quite dashing.

We decided to match our outfits. I enlisted the help of Natty and Poppy to find the perfect dress to wear.

My dress was also a deep emerald green to match Ominis. He even gifted me a snake necklace to wear.

"It will help us match more." He insisted.

It doesn't feel very wintery to me but I don't mind that much.

The dress itself was sleek like silk. It hugged my body in the right places and left room where need be. The back of the dress was open quite low. The dress also had a slight train to it. Little gold flecks could be found in the dresses fabric, causing it to sparkle when I moved. It was gorgeous.

The girls and I get ready and meet up at the top of the stairs.

I smile when I see Ominis and call out to him to get his attention.

"Hey! Ominis!" I shout over the crowd of people waiting for the Great Hall doors to open.

"Hello (Y/N)," He smiles back at me.

I lowly whistled when I looked Ominis over.

"Looking good, Gaunt." I smirk.

He rolled his eyes with a grin of his own before gesturing to me. "I'm sure you look amazing as well."

I laugh a bit and chat with him and the others as we wait for the doors to open.

All chatter soon ceases as the creaking of the large doors could be heard.

The students start steadily filing into the now decorated Great Hall.

Gone were the long tables and benches. It was a totally different room.

The usual floating candles were now dazzling chandeliers. There was a beautiful black marble dance floor in the middle of the room. Flanking it on the left and right are circle tables with white table cloths and sparkling snow globes as center pieces. Where the podium usually is at the front of the room, there is a band surrounded by instruments. Behind the makeshift stage, there are long tables set up with food and drinks set up. In the corners of the room, there are pine trees dusted with light snow. Last but not least, the ceiling was enchanted to snow. Soft small snowflakes drift towards the ground, melting before it hits the floor.

I am awestruck at the beautiful scenery in front of me.

Smiling, I turn to Ominis and excitedly describe the room around us. Ominis softly smiles at my enthusiastic description.

We make our way to one of the tables and I ask Ominis if he'd like anything to snack on or to eat. He politely nods his head and I make my way to the snack and drink table.

As I'm waiting for my turn to get Ominis and I something, I can't help but take a moment to appreciate the decor and hardwork the Professors put in to give us a memorable night.

My mind drifts to the events of last year. Surprisingly I only think of the good times. Which leads me to once again think of Sebastian.

"I wonder how he is doing..." I feel my face drop into a frown at the thought before I take a deep breath and focus on the now.

Finally getting to my turn for ordurves and refreshment, I stop as I go to grab two butterbeers for Ominis and I.

I smile lightly as I remember my first butterbeer. Sebastian and I had just finished defeating a troll in Hogsmead and were treated to complimentary butterbeer.

Other than Rookwood interrupting us, the rest of the time we chatted and got to know eachother more. The first leap towards our friendship.

I realize I'm slightly holding up the line so I quickly grab our butterbeers and some pumpkin pasties and head back to Ominis.

When I get there, I notice our friends have also seated themselves around Ominis.

We chat for a while before Ominis stands.

"Everything okay Ominis?" I question.

He holds his hand out before responding, "It wouldn't be much of a ball if we didn't dance. Care to join me?"

I smile widely and jump up and grab his hand, rushing towards the dance floor.

As we take our stances, I think I see a glimpse of Sebastian behind him.

Not wanting to worry Ominis, I keep it to myself for now.

The music starts and I try to keep my eyes away from where I saw Sebastian as we start our waltz.

"Why is he here? He can't speak to us yet he decides to come to a ball?" I angrily think to myself.

I quickly sneak another glance at Sebastian. His face is emotionless, not even glancing in our direction. My eyebrows furrow at that.

The music picks up the pace as we move our feet quicker. It feels as though the music is in tune with my emotions. Or vice versa.

My anger starts to swell. After all this time holding it in, it's starting to spill out.

"I did so much for him. What do I get in return? Ignored! Not to mention I let go that he called me ignorant and never even apologize. Maybe he didn't apologize because he truly thinks I am ignorant. Ugh!" I let out a loud sigh as my thoughts keep racing.

Ominis starts to sense how off I was.

He dips me out of nowhere.

I gasp and look at him with wide eyes.

"You seemed a tad distracted." Ominis grinned.

It takes me a moment of shock before I start laughing.

He lifts me back up and we continue dancing.

"I was. I'm okay now though. Thank you." I genuinely smile at him.

I'm not going to let Sebastian ruin my night.

~Sebastian POV~

I grumble to myself as I make my way down the stairs towards the Great Hall.

I don't know why I even decided to come to this ball. I don't have time for this while trying to search for a cure for Anne.

Ominis had sent me an owl. He told me (Y/N) and him were going and would like to see me go as well.

I battled with this idea for a while, hence why I'm a hour later to this thing than everyone else.

Fiddling with my tie, I glance down at my outfit once more. I'm wearing a dark green vest with a green tie under a black suit jacket.

I sigh before finally waltzing into the ball.

As I enter, the musicians start playing their instruments.

People start getting up from the circular tables and making their way to the dance floor.

I see Ominis immediately. His light hair being an easy target.

I frown down at my old clothes after admiring Ominis's velvet tux.

My frown drops as does my jaw once I see (Y/N). She looks exquisite.

Clearing my throat, I pull myself together. At that moment, I think our eyes meet.

It's only a fleeting moment before she quickly looks away around the room.

I lean against the far wall and try not to stare at the two.

People all around me are coupled up and flirting. I roll my eyes at that.

Turning my attention back to my two old friends, my eyebrows furrow.

They're laughing. Having the time of their lives while I'm sulking against a wall.

I sigh and make my way to the refreshment table.

Going to grab a butterbeer, I stopped and smiled. I remember the day (Y/N) told me she had never had a butterbeer. It was after we defeated a troll in Hogsmead. We talked for hours that day, just getting to know eachother.

My smile drops as I remember the rest of the events from last year. We both went through hell. And I had to drag her into mine when she had her own to go through.

I down the drink and make my way to the back of the room once again.

I see some suspicious looking students off to the side, laughing to themselves before pulling out their wands and raising it to the ceiling.

My eyes widen and I quickly make my way towards them. I'm too late however as they already shot a spell from their wands.

I glare at them before they dart out of the room, still cackling.

As I look up at the ceiling, I notice the snow stop falling and clouds start to swirl.

~(Y/N) POV~

Ominis and I are still laughing and dancing before a loud boom rings above us.

I quickly look up and notice the ceiling now swirling with clouds.

"(Y/N)? What's happening?" Ominis questions as he starts to pull his wand out.

I turn to the doors and notice a couple students peeking around the frame laughing.

I sigh, "It looks like a couple of our peers didn't think tonight was entertaining tonight. It looks like they tampered with the ceiling enchantment."

Ominis nods in understanding. He does continue pulling out his wand though.

"Maybe we should get to the side then. Who knows what they did." He activates his wand to help him find his way back to our table.

I hum in agreement and start to follow him before another loud boom of thunder is heard.

As I look up once again, it starts pouring.

I gasp as I'm quickly drenched with rain.

All the other students start shrieking and running out of the Great Hall, not wanting to ruin their expensive outfits more than they already are.

I start to make my way with the students before I stop in my tracks.

Taking a deep breath, I hold my arms out and smile up at the ceiling.

"This is what I needed." I think to myself.

Spinning in circles, I start laughing with pure glee.

~Sebastian POV~

I start to make my way towards Ominis and (Y/N) after the two students run out of the room.

I'm about 10 feet away as it starts to pour.

Ominis quickly makes his way out of the Great Hall. (Y/N) starts to follow after him and the rest of the students before she stops and smiles.

I raise an eyebrow at her peculiar behavior.

I walk up to her and grab her hand, stopping her from spinning.

"What are you doing? You're going to make yourself sick." I state and slowly remove my hand from hers.

I know I'm in trouble when her smile drops and she glares at me.

"Oh. Finally decided to speak to me?" She crosses her arms in anger.

I sigh and push my hair out of my face from the rain.

"Can we not do this now?" I plead.

She raises her brows and tilts her head slightly.

"Then when are we going to do this Sallow? Last I checked, Ominis and I weren't good enough for you to speak to." She spits at me.

The use of Sallow instead of Sebastian hurts more than I was expecting.

I cast my head down in thought before meeting her eyes once again.

"I...I'm sorry." I try.

She deadpans and raises an eyebrow as if to say 'is that all you got?'.

I take a deep breath and try again.

"I shouldn't have shut you out. Either of you. After last year I...I didn't want to drag you guys into anything else you'd regret. I hate that I brought you both into my idiocy last year. I'm not giving up on Anne and I'm willing to do anything I can to save her." I explain with a frown.

I hang my head at her lack of response.

Suddenly a hand is reaching out towards me.

I look up at the girl in front of me in confusion.

My confusion is doubled when I see the bright smile spread across her face.

"I've always been there for you Sebastian. I will continue to be there for you. Instead of pushing us away to keep us safe, let us make that decision ourselves." She earnestly says.

My eyes start to tear up and a smile starts to spread on my face.

"Now are you going to dance with me or not?" She smirks.

I laugh and grab her hand, pulling her towards me.

"I would love to." I whisper.

We start to dance slowly, our eyes not leaving each other.

The band, seeing us continuing our dance, started playing their instruments once again.

Some students rush back onto the dancefloor and continue to dance in the rain whilst laughing all around us.

"I've really missed you." I confess, brushing a wet strand of hair out of her face.

She softly smiles and rests her head on my chest.

"I've missed you too." She replies.

Resting my head on top of hers, we continue to sway, music and laughter all around us.

Best winter ball ever.

~Fin.~

Hello! I hope you liked this story. This idea has been in my head for the longest time so it was nice to get it out lol. Anywho, thanks for reading!

[ginoeh]

Number 13 for the Spotify fic thingy 🖤!!

Thank you for the ask! You have a good eye for numbers 😂 This one is my much beloved Tamino with Persephone. I had about 158 story ideas for this one already (give or take a few) and decided on a 🌟 new 🌟 one instead (yay!).

I'm staying very close to the song's lyrics here instead of the of more general lore of the myth for this challenge. Please enjoy 'dramatic-idiot-in-love' with a dash of 'unstoppable-force-meets-immovable-object'. We start with Dream's pov. Because drama.

~~☆~~☆~~☆~~

It goes like this: Morpheus is enamoured, bewitched, by Hob's radiance, his faith and warmth and the care for humanity he has learned to cultivate over painstaking centuries. He knows what effort this costs Hob, knows it in every controlled instinct and careful look, in every forsaken opportunity for personal gain, how Hob yearns to remain good and light. So when night falls over the warm glow of the New Inn's evening, Morpheus stays and stays and stays and drinks it all in.

Morpheus feels like a moth drawn to the flame. Hob is the day to his night, the warmth of spring and summer to his own wintery darkness. He should let Hob live his life away from him, keep him at a distance as he has for so long now. He's much more selfish than that, though, greedy in his affection as he's been accused of so many times.

Unwilling to leave, he instead lets Hob choose: they can go back to their centennial meetings or, as Morpheus offers, they could trade - an apology for the missed centennial; one meeting in the Waking for one meeting in the Dreaming, each month a different setting. He might not let Hob go, if he acquiesces to this, Morpheus warns (“Those that live too long in dreams might be consumed by them even in waking hours. It's in their nature.” And therefore in his, he doesn't add.)

Hob laughs, bright and daring with that edge of sparkling hope, and takes the second offer (“What's a little bit of lost time between friends? I'd love to come and visit your realm.”) Morpheus has known how Hob would choose, of course he has. Has seen the daydreams of golden friendship, shared tales and maybe even, love. There really wasn’t a choice at all.

The months slip by, pleasant and warm - no, no it's more than pleasant, it's- Morpheus knows when he's in love, can’t not know it when the Dreaming is in the full bloom of spring, with sweet winds and sunshine accompanying them wherever they go in his realm. When their hands and hearts are entangled as much as their limbs and tongues.

It's sweet as honey.

It will not last.

He’s mired in the never-beens and wishes, the dark and the forbidden and the nearly-forgotten - and while Hob might love him as many people love their dreams, as soon as they get too close Morpheus will invariably break his heart. Be it through disappointment and ennui or when Morpheus’ flights of fancy will have Hob's grip slipping, see him falling out of love towards the awakening, and shatter.

And yet, Morpheus wants.

There is the inevitable end looming, Morpheus knows, because love always ends in his sister's arms. Even more, there is the other end, the one he lets loom on the horizon unseen and felt only in the chill between Hob's visits. He does not let himself think of much of anything then. For now though, he takes Hob's love of life and light and warmth and lets it guide him, lets it be his hearth and home. It's deceiving, but Hob is Morpheus' dream and he wants to hold onto it until he has to face the realities of his fate.

Soon Hob will realize that there is another life waiting for him in the Waking, he will not want to remain bound to one such as he. In the light, Morpheus and his world of dreams will be small and unimportant to Hob, easily forgotten, as dreams are wont to be forgotten in the Waking. It will be Hob who'll try to cancel their accord.

Still, for now the deal keeps them circling each other, keeps them close. Maybe closer than Morpheus is confortable with. Maybe close enough that Hob can see thing Morpheus would want to stay hidden.

Because in Hob's eyes, Dream sees love and devotion but sometimes, there is something else. Morpheus knows it well, has seen it in Nada's eyes before the end. It's fear; desperation and fear. And Hob is right to fear him, he’s right to fear the calamities he might bring upon him, to fear the inevitable end, the fall and the shattering. Hob loves him, Hob fears him, it's inextricable - two sides of the same coin.

Because ultimately, Morpheus will be Hob's fall.

Together, they can learn to fly.

Hob though, is the maker of his own fate; refuses to give up agency over his own destiny. It's in his nature, after all. What Hob fears isn't his own fall. If he falls, he does so because he chooses to risk it. He'll accept the consequences, like he always has.

What he fears, then, is Morpheus’ fall. Because Hob can clearly see him standing on a precipice and he'll go to the ends of all universes and battle the fates themselves if only he can make his love step back and turn around - this isn't a Orpheus and Euridice situation after all, or a retelling of Hades and Persephone.

No one was stolen, and no one has died.

Quite the contrary really. This is live and this is love. It's what hope is made of and Hob won't stop trying to get Morpheus to see it. To see as well, that Hob doesn’t need Morpheus to stay aloft, that he is perfectly capable of carrying his own weight and helping Morpheus along at the same time. If only Morpheus would give in to Hob calling him back to life and turn the fuck around!

This story is theirs alone and Hob will make damned sure they never get an ending and only a happily ever after. Morpheus just needs to take his hand and dare the first step.

~~☆~~☆~~☆~~

Okay, that’s a wrap then. I also have at least one AU that involves a more dramatic and fantastical reason for Hob having to spend half of his time in the Dreaming. Then, there’s the idea of a fairytale AU. There's one of Hob getting fed up and be the one to propose a Persephone-like deal if Dream insists on treating this like a effing story (im partial to that one lol). And a slew of other ideas. They don't stay as close to the song lyrics as this here, though.

[uraverageemodrainergamerbf]

Bladee and Medieval music

So yeah drainers I've made the weirdest link in my head. I DON'T KNOW if it's intentional from B-man but a very cool person told me about old ahh music and I've made connections.

So in medieval music and especially in gregorian chants, melodies used to always come back on the root (speaking about intervals). For example if the song was in the key of C, each sentence used to end up on the C note, which creates a very pleasant sentiment of predictability but in a good way. It made sens because there were a lot of limitations for what was authorized and acceptable in music.

Back to Bladee, when you listen to his early stuff, you can hear the exact same thing. On his album Eversince especially (2016) ,each sentence always ends on the root, it has the same predictability than gregorian chants and it creates a similar feeling : melodies don't go very far from home and it's pretty nice.

But bladee is a cloud rap artist with a lot of autotune, a weird voice and wintery, glassy, glittering sinths on the production. It makes his music sound completely out of time, very modern with the cloud rap side of things but at the same time outdated, ancient. And these melodies also convey a feeling of isolation, coldness, sadness as if Bladee didn't have the energy to sing otherwise. So we have similar ways of constructing melodies with the voice but 600 years apart, and the feelings the same thing give are completely different each time.

It's quite impossible to know if he did it intentionnally, or if this post even makes sense but my friend agreed with me and she's based so I'm right.

[mittch22]

I love your headcanons for the WGP! Such underutilized characters that Pixar will never come back to. Which makes it all the more fun to come up with the headcanons and their personalities.

Also do you have headcanons for the regional replacements of Jeff Gorvette in the international dubs of Cars 2: Long Ge (my personal bias), Flash Nilsson, Memo Rojas Jr, Frosty Winterbumper and Vitaly Petrov?

Another Ask! Thank you!!!

I must admit, it was a challenging one. I like to have a little background info before I add HC's to pre-made characters. But alas, there is not much to go on.

Im glad you bought these fine chaps to my attention. They are VERY cool. My favourite is Vitaly personally. Lets give this a go, shall we?

Long Ge - He is insanely polite and will go above and beyond to ensure the comfort of others in his presence, even sometimes to his own detriment.

He can occasionally get a little nervous talking to others, but thats down to a small amount of social anxiety. He wants everyone to like him.

Long Ge is respectful of his fellow competitors at all times, however, he can occasionally get a little arrogant, but its all in good humour.

He is heavily supportive of racers in need, especially when it comes to physical injury. Regardless of his position on the track, he will stop to help if he deems it necessary. In his spare time, he will volunteer to assist those in need.

He loves traditional board games.

Lightning McQueen ended up introducing him to Tex Dinoco and they got along straight off the bat.

Flash Nilsson - Flash is spritely and energetic and its utterly contagious. He knows exactly how to get a party going and how to keep it rolling.

He's amazing at poker.

He gets jestfully angry when fellows sing or play the Flash Gordan theme song when he enters a room or aproaches a group. He will start singing along with it though.

He's a bit of a practical joker and can spend ages thinking up amazing pranks to play on his friends. He loves to have a good laugh.

Flash spends a lot of time practicing on different tracks and honing his skillset in a variety of different ways. He's always looking to improve himself and learn loads of different techniques for different situations.

Memo Rojas Jr - Memo loves learning about different cultures and sightseeing the countries he visits.

He is a highly suspicious vehicle and carries a luck charm with him for his races.

You'll never not hear him humming or singing musical tunes and jigging along to it.

He gets on really well with Raoul and they have become quite firm friends after the WGP.

Memo is rediculously quick off the mark and shocks fellow racers with his ability to just shoot himself forward off the starting line. It can be quite startling and intimidating.

Frosty Winterbumper - Frosty is a talker. As in he is an incessant talker. Good luck shutting him up. Especially when its on a subject that he is particularly interested in.

He loves basking in gentle sunshine and believes there's nothing better than a quality nap and a decent amount of relaxation time.

He is a bit of a risk taker on the track and enjoys the rush of that.

Despite his wintery namesake, he despises being in cold environments. He can't stand the cold and will do pretty much anything to ensure he stays warm. A deeply set chill can really throw him off his game.

Vitaly Petrov (Виталий Петров) - Vitaly is an avid chess player. His father was a regional champion at the game and athough Vitaly had bigger interests in racing, he is still very good at the game. So good luck beating him.

He is used to freezing climates from growing up racing in rally sprints and ice races and just doesnt seem to get cold. He has techniques for staying warm and he will always share them with any fellow racer who feels the cold easily.

Vitaly is the only race fan in his family and built himself up in the racing world from scratch and he absolutely loves it. He does it purely for his own enjoyment. It just turns out he's really damn good at it.

Chrysler help you if you find yourself in a snowball fight with him. He is pretty merciless.

Bonus content:

I have an amusing screenshot (at least I found it amusing). Tumblr is being a bit funny on mobile at the moment with asks. And for some reason its staging out the words in the ask box when I go to answer it. This is what it came up with:

PS: His name is Frosty Winterbum now.

[dilf-din]

Running From the Daylight

A Rebelcaptain Story (Vampire!Jyn x Cassian)

Rating: T

WC: 5k

Warnings/tags: modern AU, vampire AU, made up vampire lore, mentions of alcohol, intense soulmate-ism and longing

A/N: this idea came to me while listening to Daylight by 5SOS. It’s very rom-commy, and frankly I’m obsessed with them. Please enjoy my little brain child!

She's got a method of killing

Pulling you in like you're gonna start kissing

Fooling around until you've lost all feeling

Sucking your blood until your heart stops beating

——

Melshi bustled into their apartment a little past 7:00 that night to find Cassian with his legs up on the coffee table table, computer in his lap with the Minecraft music playing low.

“Get dressed, we’re going out,” he said, standing in front of his roommate with his arms crossed.

“Have fun,” Cass responded, eyes not lifting from the screen.

Melshi sighed, leaning forward to push his laptop shut with one finger.

“Hey,” Cass started.

“We’re going out. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Cassian grumbled and pushed up off the couch, stalking off to his room to pull on something without a large bleach stain from an age old laundry mishap. He knew his friend was well meaning. Melshi always extended an invite when his group of friends was going to a bar or a movie. Cassian usually declined, preferring his own company to low lit, crowded spaces. It had been a while since he said yes, though. He didn’t want people to come knocking down his door to make sure he was still alive.

Once he was bundled in boots and his long coat, he followed Melshi into the shaky elevator that sat just across the hall from their door. The burgundy carpet was discolored from decades of spills, and the fluorescent lights nestled into the ceiling were missing a panel. There was a couple already inside headed down as well. They shuffled to the side to allow room for the two men. Everyone exchanged cordial smiles and head nods as they continued the ride in silence.

The December air was sharp in Cassian’s lungs as they entered the stream of people moving briskly down the sidewalk. Hats and coats of every color dotted the pavement as people broke off from groups, crossed sides, and re-integrated themselves into another cluster of people all headed to ring in the new year in their own way. The pair made light conversation as they walked side by side past tall brick buildings, wintery store fronts, and street signs still hung with Christmas lights.

“Aren’t we a little too old for this?” he had asked Melshi as they stood in a packed line on the New York sidewalk. The sun had long since faded behind the skyline, and his breath was coming out in long, feathery clouds. The tips of his ears and nose were brushed pink by the wind’s lips, and he drew his scarf tighter around his neck as a particularly strong gust swept over the street.

“You might be, the rest of us aren’t though,” Melshi teased, “It’s New Year’s Eve, Cass. You can go back to being a hermit tomorrow,” he called over his shoulder as they shuffled forward a few more feet.

As they descended the staircase, Cassian tried not to roll his eyes when he got hit with a wall of cheap smelling weed and music so loud the bass was distorted.

Although the song blaring wasn’t Cassian’s first choice, he was happy to be out of the cold. He and his counterpart exchanged their jackets for tickets and stuffed them into their front pockets before venturing farther into the club.

Melshi spotted his group of friends instantly, waving as he approached them.

“I’m just going to grab a drink,” Cass called over the noise, giving Melshi’s shoulder a quick squeeze as he disappeared in the opposite direction. There were several seats open at the bar as most of the patrons were dancing in close proximity on the sparkling black floor. Cassian ordered a rum and coke and settled on a stool at the very end of the bar, leaning back against the wall. The chill he felt in the entryway quickly dissipated now that he was surrounded by so many other bodies. Sweat pricking at his back caused him to roll up the sleeves of his sweater, turning up the sleeves of his button down over them to hold them in place. He checked his watch to find it was barely past eight, leaving him with at least three hours to muddle through before he could excuse himself back to their apartment. Taking another long swig of his drink, he turned his eyes to the scattered crowd. Groups of girls laughed loudly, drinks in hand. There were pairs of men standing off to every side of the room sharing polite conversations. His eyes drifted over the sea of people, not seeing anything of note until they caught a glint of silver shining off a dress. His gaze settled on the girl wearing it. Pale skin, almost translucent in the light, and eyes so green he could make out the hue even from across the room. She must’ve felt his eyes on him, because she returned his gaze, the corner of her mouth turning up a microscopic amount as her eyes scanned the length of his body. Her right hand lazily moved a stemmed glass up to her plush lips, and she downed the rest of what appeared to be a martini.

Everything about her was elegant. Her coy expression told Cassian she was no stranger to attention. To her, turning heads was as second nature as breathing. She couldn’t have looked more like she belonged, but, at the same time, something about her felt blindingly out of place. Suddenly feeling self conscious, he cast his eyes to the floor, not wanting to get taken for a creep.

Cass was trying to put his finger on what it was that felt off. It wasn’t the slinky dress that twinkled like a disco ball, cutting deep to show the sharp edges of her shoulder blades. Nor was it the choppy shag of her hair that made her look straight out of the 70’s, or the confidence she oozed. No, it was something that wasn’t physical, something about her presence. She carried herself like she had a secret only she was in on, as if she was setting everyone up for a grand joke that she would never reveal the punchline to. He looked up again, disappointed to find she was gone, like she had vanished into thin air. He didn’t lament for long, though. He figured he would run into her again. This place wasn’t too huge after all. Tipping his head back one final time, he finished off his drink, leaving the empty glass on the bar, and made his way back to his friend.

Cassian was happy enough to sit on the outer edge of a booth guarding everyone’s purses, beers, and half eaten appetizers while they danced. He spotted Melshi dancing with a pretty brunette and gave him an eyebrow raise and an approving smile. When he friend looked away, Cass sighed, drumming his fingers on the table. A quick glance at his watch told him it was only 9:13. Seeing one of the other group members approaching the table to rest, Cassian decided to stretch his legs. He took another slow lap through the maze of doorways and found himself back at the bar he stopped at when they first arrived. As he sat waiting for his drink, he felt the brush of someone else settling in the stool next to him. Just the presence alone sent a wave of chills down his spine, a wild anticipation dancing down his nerves, making the hairs on his arms stand at attention.

“Hello,” a posh voice came out.

He turned to see the girl from before leaning against the bar on one elbow, facing him straight on. She gave a hint of a smile, blinding white teeth surrounded by crimson lips.

Cassian was tongue tied. Now that she was right there, every cell in his body screamed at her nearness. He wanted to be even closer, to know more about her.

“I saw you staring at me earlier,” she continued.

“Oh, uh, I’m sorry about that. I was jus—” he stammered.

“Don’t be. A lot of people look through me, so it’s nice to be seen.”

Cassian was baffled at the thought of anyone not being captivated by her. She was the only person in the room to him. It went beyond personal preference. She was magnetic, charming, full of intrigue.

“What’s your name?” she asked, staring down at the glass in her hand and giving the remaining clear alcohol a swirl.

“Cassian.”

“Cassian, hmm,” she contemplated before draining her glass, “Jyn.”

“Jyn,” he repeated, a shy smile on his face, “Can I buy you a drink?”

“No,” she said plainly, “But you **can dance with me.”

His legs moved before his mouth could, carrying him behind her to the crowded dance floor, before he could make an excuse about having two left feet or not having danced in public since college. Another nondescript song poured through the speakers, something about this being the best night of your life. He was starting to believe it.

They were well into weaving between pairs of partygoers before he realized she had been holding his wrist securely. He expected his skin to burn from her touch, but she was like ice, sending another wave of goosebumps up his arm. When the crowd shifted to accommodate their presence, she turned to face him, hips already swaying to the music. He placed tentative hands on her waist, but she pressed close enough to him that he could feel her breath on the sliver of his neck exposed by the open collar of his shirt, inviting him into this shared space with her. Soft hands wove their way around his neck and tangled with the ends of his hair. He swallowed hard and looked down at her. The girl in his arms was a walking contradiction. Looking innocent as could be, but with a hunger in her eyes, like she could rip his throat out and walk away without batting an eyelash. Cassian was holding a lit fuse in his hands, and he didn’t care.

Their bodies moved in sync to the quickly changing beats, as if they had been dance partners for years, known each other their whole lives. Her fingers fit with his, his body pressed to hers like they were two halves of a whole. Fire and ice. Sunbeams and stardust caught twirling, inexplicably bound together.

As the night progressed, the tension between them built with every touch, every step, every twirl. Callused fingertips dipped into the edges of her backless dress, skin to skin under the pale white lights. Jyn was weightless, on a high she didn’t want to come down from. She usually didn’t allow herself to indulge like this, in men and alcohol. Every bit of her conscience was screaming at her to shut it down, but the feel of his beard against her throat as he pressed slow kisses to her neck was short circuiting the part of her brain responsible for making good decisions.

Every other time she had been able to stamp down the longing brewing in the pit of her stomach. Every other time she had been able to keep it physical, just scratching an itch, but the smell of his cologne and the touch of his hands, rough but kind, were being mapped in her brain the longer they danced. He was being written into her DNA, becoming indistinguishable from her own flesh. She had to look for an out.

“D’you wanna get out of here? Have a smoke for a minute?” she called over the noise.

“Let me go get my jacket,” he called, pressing his lips to her ear.

Cass wove his way back through the crowd and to the coat check near the entrance. Jyn soon followed behind, wrapping her arm through his and slinging her thin purse strap across her body.

Melshi gave Cass a thumbs up as he saw them headed up to the street to get some fresh air. There were a few pairs of people lining the sidewalk sharing hushed conversations and cigarettes. Cass led her a few blocks down where they could have more space to themselves. She drew a pack of cigarettes out of her purse and offered him one.

“Just the one is fine with me,” he smiled, reaching for the lighter he kept in his pocket, holding the flame to the end of the cigarette perched between her lips. The flame dancing so close to her face brought out deep veins of gold in her eyes that were lost in the dimly lit club.

“You’re very beautiful,” Cassian said softly. He towered over her, even in her sparkly heels.

A smile quirked across her lips as she passed it to him, “You’re very dashing.”

“Tell me if I’m way off base here, but do you feel this too? The chemistry? Something about being here with you feels so right…right,” he all but blurted out.

“I feel it too,” she said almost breathlessly, swallowing down the lump in her throat, knowing how this would end.

Across the street, they heard a crowd of people counting down from twenty, signaling midnight’s approach.

“Looks like we made it out just in time,” Cassian smiled, with a soft chuckle.

“Call it luck,” she suggested, mirroring his smile.

“Or fate,” he brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his breath hot on her lips as he leaned closer.

Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

Cassian waited for the press of her lips to his, but it never came. After a few seconds, he opened his eyes to see the space in front of him empty. He didn’t hear her walk off, didn’t feel her move away from his touch, it was almost like she vanished. He stood dumbfounded, not even daring to call her name. Maybe she took her chance under the cover of the erupting fireworks and ran. Maybe she was an apparition this whole time. No matter the truth, his heart that was soaring on freshly sprouted wings moments prior, now lay bruised on the snow dusted sidewalk in front of him. Taking in a deep, shuddering breath, he turned on his heel, simultaneously stamping out the cigarette and heading in the direction of his apartment.

The sound of continued celebrations passed him on every side. Music, cheering, and delayed bottles of champagne popping all floated down on the wind as he walked stone faced back to his empty bed in his empty apartment. Muffled laughter and music spilled under the doorways as he approached their door, key in hand. He flicked on the light that sat to the left of the door, and shrugged off his jacket, hanging it on its designated hook with slaw hands. Cassian felt numb, and not just from the freezing wind he had walked face forward in to get home. This numbness radiated out from the chasm in his chest, making each of his limbs feel like dead weight.

He went through the motions of his night time routine in a daze. Changing into pajamas, washing his face, brushing his teeth. He could’ve sworn she felt it too. Maybe he’s been alone for so long, he doesn’t know how to read those situations any more. But he asked and she said yes. His head started to spin. He switched off the bathroom light and stumbled into his bedroom. The constant booming of fireworks right outside his window wasn’t helping the splitting headache he felt developing. Pulling a pillow over his head, Cass shut his eyes and tried to quiet his mind enough to sleep.

——

He woke in the morning with his head feeling like a lead weight balanced precariously between his shoulders. He shuffled into the kitchen squinting at the light pouring in from the sides of the window shades.

“He lives,” Melshi smiled through a bite of cereal. The brunette was sitting at the counter in his pajamas, seemingly having woken up just a few minutes before Cassian.

“And is your friend here?” he asked quietly, with another, more mischievous smile.

Cass unscrewed the top of the aspirin bottle and shook two out into his hand, slamming them back with a glass of water before flatly answering, “No.”

Melshi’s smile flipped into a disappointed frown, “The two of you seemed to be getting on so well though.”

“That’s what I thought too, but we went out to have a smoke right around midnight, and when I leaned in for the kiss, she vanished.”

“I’m sorry about that, mate.”

“No, I mean she vanished. Like into thin air.”

“People don’t just disappear, Cass.”

“She did!” his voice started to elevate, “I mean you saw her, right? You saw us dancing?”

“Yes, I saw you,” he said slowly, brows knitting together in concern, “Are you okay?”

“No! I feel like I’m going crazy! I met the perfect girl last night, and she slipped through my fingers, and I have no way to contact her. I’ll never know if it all just wasn’t in my head,” he lamented, leaning onto the counter with both elbows and rubbing his face vigorously in the palms of his hands.

“I think you had a bit much to drink last night,” Melshi said softly.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Cassian said, raising back to his full height and turning to pull his faded coffee mug out of the cabinet next to him. He figured it was best to forget about it, or, at least to pretend that he did when he was around his friends. Jyn would forever be a mystery to him. A memory burned into his skin. All night, he felt the ghost of her hands on his body and caressing his face, like he was being tormented by some succubus that wasn’t there when he reached back out to touch her. He had played back every moment trying to pinpoint any signs he might’ve missed, any indication that she wasn’t as completely enamored with him as he was with her. After draining two cups of black coffee, Cassian leaned his head against the cool steel of the fridge door and found himself wishing that he knew what Jyn was thinking, just one peek into her mind to set this all straight.

——

Across town in an expansive penthouse, Jyn was pacing the floors with bare feet, lamenting the way her evening had ended. Empty wine bottles cluttered her coffee table from her meager attempts at getting even the slightest bit drunk enough to feel something. All it gave her was a headache and a full bladder though.

She drained one final bottle and tossed its empty shell onto the rug next to her discarded heels. Her dress lay in a crumpled, glimmering pile over the arm of her sofa. On her body was nothing but the crimson lingerie set she had purchased for that particular outfit, planning to reveal it to a lucky, or, unlucky, suitor at the end of the night.

A heavy sigh left her lips as she curled up in her favorite spot overlooking the city. For hours, her windows were lit up with dozens of firework displays. They had only dwindled in number as dawn approached. She watched the sun crest the horizon and spill buckets of yellow and pink into the harbor’s dark mouth. The waves stretched their legs to welcome the first day of a new year, sending the ships off with a choppy goodbye.

New Year’s Eve for Jyn was always melancholic. Each year that passed just created more space between her and the loved ones she had outlived along the way. Each year her skin remained taut and glowing while her family rotted away in crude wooden coffins.

Time had always been a friend and an enemy of hers, a thorn in her side and a balm for the wound it left. Since she was bitten, she had been afforded the chance to start over again and again. Not many people got the grace of do-overs or the wondrous gift of seeing the world. She felt like a petulant child sometimes for being jealous of mortality, but after so many trips around the sun, so many voyages across the seas, she started to ache for a familiarity she had never known. Every time she got comfortable, as the years piled on, people started to notice she was unscathed by time, like a relic behind the glass in a museum, features frozen and perfectly preserved for onlookers to gawk at. She was familiar with the pain of being clipped at the roots and forced to re-grow somewhere else. The cycle was starting to drain the life from within her, like a painful reminder of being transformed all over again.

Jyn had lived many lives in many places, but she always came back to New York. It was easy to disappear there, to slip into a crowd, hop onto a subway, vanish in plain sight.

“Idiot,” she chided herself, on the remembrance of her most recent Houdini act.

For years she had kept her emotions under lock and key, perfected the art of not giving a fuck, not getting attached. In one night, with one look, all of her walls came careening down, and she was left with the decision to either rebuild or… No, she needed to think clearly. She didn’t have another option, told herself the facts over and over, repeated what she knew about humans and the last time she got too close to one. Still, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get the boy from last night out of her head. His deep brown eyes were all she saw every time she shut hers. She swore his fingerprints were burned into her sides and the back of her neck. Being with him awakened something within her, a hunger, a craving unlike any other she had felt before. There were several moments as they danced under the blinking lights where she could’ve sworn she felt the phantom beat of her heart from where it laid dormant in her chest. Being with him made her feel alive again, and she didn’t know how to make sense of it all.

By now, the sun was high in the sky, flooding the oak floors that were stained a deep, rich umber with pools of warm gold. Though the light could burn her, she had made a habit out of keeping the shades open on the floor to ceiling windows that lined the living area. She had spent much too long living in darkness to not indulge in things like this beautiful winter morning.

The staircase to the second level lay across from the wall where her long, grey sectional sat nestled beneath massive oil paintings she had collected over the years. It led directly over the kitchen to another sitting area outside of her bedroom suite. She climbed the stairs with long, fluid motions, looking like a goddess come to earth. Sprawling out across her bed, Jyn opted to try for sleep one more time, but as soon as her eyes clamped shut, she was met with memories of Cassian so real she could swear she was in his arms again.

Her name on his tongue, her lips on her skin, everything was pounding against her temples, making her feel like she was captive to the telltale heart.

Jyn shot straight up, a resolve set deep in her chest to not ruin another life, to not string along another lover only to watch them fade as time sneered over her shoulder. She stamped out the flame that was lit last night, buried it under the rubble of her past, and decided to look for something else to lose herself in. Maybe this would be the year she went back to school or booked a really long cruise to distract herself. She rolled off her bed and climbed into her office chair, pulling her laptop open and powering it on to lose herself in the endless possibilities that lay on the other side of her boot up screen.

——

Weeks passed and Cassian continued on with his life as normal. He took the train to the office with Melshi in the mornings, had polite banter with his coworkers over cups of rotten tasting coffee. He did his work, took the train home, and did it all over again. As February approached, he found himself still hung up on a girl that he had barely spent three hours with. He went on one date with a girl from accounting last week, listened to her drone on about her cat and her marathon coming up while she stabbed at her salad. She was nice but she wasn’t Jyn. He couldn’t even bring himself to care when she tried to kiss him at the end of the night and he ducked his head to avoid it. Sure, it would be awkward at work on Monday, but he had no interest in kissing anyone else or hearing them talk about the pieces that made up their lives. Cass dreamed of her soft lips, ached to hear her laugh again, bright and refreshing like a rain storm after a drought, a downpour he had spent years on his knees for, hurling hopeful prayers at a cloudless sky. And each time he caught the tide of his mind drifting to her pull, he reminded himself that she didn’t care about him at all, probably hadn’t thought twice about him since that night.

His usually peaceful sleep schedule had been a wreck all month. Agony was the only word he could use to describe it behind closed doors, plagued by a sense of longing for something he wasn’t quite sure he deserved to wish for, couldn’t allow himself to dream about. When his eyes refused to stay shut one particular night, he rolled over to find his clock staring at him in bright blue light, half past midnight already. Restlessness ran through Cassian’s limbs like electricity, longing for an outlet. He clumsily kicked off his covers and pulled on a hoodie to go for a late night walk. Maybe some cool evening air and moonlight would do his body good, he reasoned.

Stepping off the elevator and into the barren lobby, he was met with an eerie silence, seemingly the only soul awake with the approaching witching hour, meant to be safe in his bed like the rest of the city. He crossed the room with a reverence, dodging squeaky floorboards on light feet, not wanting to disturb the quietude. The short flight of steps down to the sidewalk was damp from a lingering rain shower. Cassian pulled his hood up and jogged into the night with no particular route in mind. He was met with heavy air and the kind of cold that clung to you like a second skin, crawled into your lungs and curled up to stay when you opened your mouth to exhale. The streets were empty save for a few cars driving slowly through the drizzle. Wet slush and grit crunching under tires roared in Cassian’s ears. It was almost enough to drown out his relentless thoughts.

He kept his hands stuffed in the front pocket of his hoodie as he followed the green lights over crosswalks and across empty streets. Few others were out this time of night, especially in this weather. Come spring’s thaw, it would be a whole new story. The city would come to life again, bustling at all hours. For now, he was thankful for the solitude, as if he didn’t get enough day to day. Once he realized he had wandered far enough, the full moon’s glow lit his path home. He was admiring the way it glistened in the small pools of standing water and almost walked straight into the hooded figure standing outside his apartment, pacing back and forth beneath the ginkgo tree at the foot of the building.

“Sorry,” he murmured, keeping his head down.

“Cassian?”

That voice. Her voice. He would know it anywhere, like it had always been a part of him.

“Jyn, how did you find me?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“I thought you hated me. I thought I would never see you again.”

She took a step closer, tentative hand reaching out to bridge the gap between them, desperate to feel his warmth again, “I could never.”

He gave a wry laugh, “You don’t know that.”

“I thought about you every day,” she whispered, her pinky reaching out towards his hanging hand.

“And I thought about you, stayed up for days trying to decide if you were just a dream,” he stepped closer, allowing her left hand to tangle with his right. His own left hand came up to gently cup the back of her neck.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” she closed her eyes and swallowed hard, giving him one more out and hoping he wouldn’t take it.

“Lucky for you, I want to know it all,” he smiled softly, and she decided she could spend forever in the strong hold of his embrace, however long forever ended up being for them.

“I’d really like that kiss now.”

Her lips almost brushed his with that confession, and he took it as permission to close the distance once and for all.

He kissed her fervently, like a secret prayer, like solemn worship, and she kissed him like he was the answer to the crushing loneliness she had grown accustomed to. Even now, she could feel the sun rising over the ashes of her soul, stirring the pieces. His kiss was like electricity, like being reanimated.

Rain had begun falling heavily accompanied by booming thunder as another storm rolled in. Cassian finally pulled away, lips seeking those desperate last kisses before resting the bridge of his nose against hers.

“You’re freezing,” he remarked, dragging a knuckle gently down her cheek.

“Yeah, about that,” she began.