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e-dubbc11 · 2 years ago

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Crazy in Love

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Some swear words, mentions of verbal abuse, fluffy bunnies and unicorns, and some physical violence

Word Count: 5.8k-ish

Summary: It’s Valentine’s Day and Billy has already spoiled you rotten and made plans to take you out for a nice dinner. But a run in with an ex boyfriend stirs up some old painful memories and lands Billy in a little bit of trouble.

A/N: This is part of the February writing challenge that my lovelies over on the Thirsty for Cox server decided to do. The prompt was “Well…I did not picture spending my Valentine’s Day in jail.” I had a lot of fun writing this, it seemed like a good one. I did write a part 2 for this which hopefully will be out tomorrow, February 16. Oh, yes the title is a Beyoncé song but I used the Sofia Karlberg version for this.

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

The essence of rose saturated the apartment, the bouquets were everywhere, red ones, pink ones, yellow ones, white ones, and even purple ones.

He had told you the purple ones meant “love at first sight,” Billy Russo was such a smooth talker, the velvet tone to his voice was soft yet assertive and gave you butterflies every time. “That’s how I felt when I first saw you. At least, I think it was. I never had those feelings before…about anyone.” He had said. It was love at first sight for you too when you met him a few years ago, right around Valentine’s Day.

***************

After finally getting the call that you landed the job, your friends decided they wanted to take you out to celebrate. Dinner first, then they took you for a few drinks at a local bar close to the restaurant which is where he first laid eyes on you.

Coming in from the cold, he saw that your cheeks were flushed and your nose was red like it had been pinched by Jack Frost but your smile lit up the entire room. Billy couldn’t take his eyes off of you, he studied you carefully but quickly turned away when you would look in his direction.

You swore you could feel someone staring at you but a quick glance around the bar made you think maybe you were wrong, there wasn’t anyone looking at you…or so you thought.

You noticed him too, the charcoal gray suit, burgundy tie, but his eyes are what pulled you towards him like a magnet. They looked like endless pools of black ink. A pair of eyes you could get lost in.

And his smile, you don’t think you’ve ever seen a more perfect smile to go along with his handsome face. He was probably the most handsome man you had ever seen but completely out of your league…again, so you thought.

Just like he studied your movements, you studied his. The way his long willowy fingers wrapped around the beer bottle he was drinking from, the way he narrowed his eyes slightly as he listened intently to his friends telling a story, or when you would catch a phrase or two escape his lips. A hint of a New York accent combined with the sarcastic comments, he was a man after your own heart. It was…love at first sight.

As much as he was trying to pay attention to his friends, Billy was trying to listen in on your conversations. Mostly, he was listening to your laugh, it made him smile, watching the way you would throw your head back in a fit of laughter and not hold back.

Your whole body smiled when you laughed and he loved nothing more than to watch you wipe the tears out of your eyes when something made you laugh extra hard. Love at first sight indeed.

In between stories from his friends, he observed one of your friends had given you a small heart shaped lollipop. A “small congratulatory gift for getting that new job you wanted so much” he heard your friend say. After thanking her, you placed the lollipop in the back pocket of your jeans and forgot about it. That’s when Billy made his move.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched him get up from his table and start to walk towards the bar to retrieve another drink, he thought you were even more beautiful up close. While you were talking, he had positioned himself in between you and another person at the bar, your body pulled forward slightly away from the back of the chair while talking to your friend.

You knew he was there, your cheeks suddenly felt warm and a knot had formed in your stomach. He let out a long exhale after taking the last sip of his beer, his breath traveled down the back of your neck and goosebumps erupted all over your body.

That’s when you felt it. The lollipop that you had forgotten about was being pulled from your pocket, slowly, carefully making sure he didn’t touch anything except that lollipop. With your eyes closed, you took a deep breath and turned around in your chair. The wrapper was discarded on the bar, you turned around just in time to see him place the lollipop in his mouth, and extend his hand to introduce himself.

“Billy Russo.” The tone of his voice was warm and low but full of confidence.

You swallowed hard and felt a slight tingle in your core. Just his voice alone did that to you, it sent shivers down your spine and caused your hands to shake slightly. But somehow you managed to just give him a sly smile, not letting him know you were nervous, and extend your hand to shake his.

“Y/f/n Y/l/n.” You said to him. “And that was my lollipop.”

He cracked a smile and the ice was broken.

The two of you spent the rest of the night making each other laugh, trading sarcastic remarks, staring into each other’s eyes, and Billy making any man that even looked in your direction wish they hadn’t.

You hadn’t even been out on a date with Billy Russo yet before he showed you how jealous he could get, how protective he could be, more like overprotective. It was a desire he had, to show every man close by that you were spoken for, that you were his, and to show they dare not touch what was his.

Billy told you he didn’t really “do” dancing but a slow song came on the jukebox, Crazy in Love by Sofia Karlberg, and you just needed to have his hands on you, holding onto you. Billy held you close, his hand encased over yours against his chest, while his friends and your friends had conversations all around you. Instead of his long, slender fingers being wrapped around a beer bottle, they were tightly wrapped around you and he didn’t want to let you go…ever.

'Cause I know I don't understand. Just how your love can do what no one else can. Got me lookin' so crazy right now. Your touch's got me lookin' so crazy right now

Your kiss's got me hoping you save me right now. Lookin' so crazy, your love's got me lookin'. Got me lookin' so crazy in love

You didn’t want to let him go either but when you finally did, he didn’t waste any time asking to take you out on a proper date. The following weekend happened to be Valentine’s Day but you said no to a date ON Valentine’s Day.

There was just too much pressure for THAT day so you put it off for a week, instead opting for a coffee date before the formal one. You never looked back after that, and although it had been tough going sometimes, Billy Russo was the man for you.

***************

Billy always tried to outdo himself every year for Valentine’s Day or any special occasion, really. That was why you were sitting in the middle of your shared apartment, surrounded by bouquets of beautiful roses.

You had stopped counting them after the flower delivery service brought in the tenth bouquet, it was a bit excessive but it brought a smile to your face anyway. “He really knows how to make me feel special.” You said to yourself as you picked up your phone to call him at work.

He picked up on the first ring, Billy Russo was not a patient man. “Hey there, sweet girl.”

A smile tugged at your lips at hearing his pet name for you. “Billy, they’re SO beautiful!” You exclaimed as you bit down on your bottom lip.

“I’m glad you like them, my love.” He said.

“Like them? Billy, I love them! Thank you.” You excitedly said into the phone.

Billy chuckled a little. “Well I’m just getting started, baby. You don’t think the flowers are your only present, do you?”

You looked around the apartment at all of the bouquets of roses, all of these must have cost him a small fortune. “Oh…Billy, no that’s too much. The flowers are plenty.”

“I’ll be home around 6 to pick you up for dinner, ok?” He said, completely ignoring the fact that you said you didn’t need another gift.

Billy didn’t say where he was taking you, only telling you that it was “nice.”

“Ok, handsome. I’ll see you at 6—I love you.” You said with a smile.

You could tell he was smiling on the other end. “I love you too, beautiful.” And he hung up.

Making sure you were home in plenty of time to get ready for your evening out, you had left work early and arrived home just in time for your flower delivery. Billy knew exactly what time you would be coming home, he planned this like he planned everything else.

You knew he would probably come home bearing more gifts, even though you told him it wasn’t necessary. Billy didn’t really show his softer side to many people, to everyone else he was a marine, a scout sniper, a CEO…a leader. But to you, he was sweet and charming, a doting and loving boyfriend who would do absolutely anything for you.

Always in charge, he made sure he never showed weakness, appeared defenseless or powerless. It was a strange feeling for him, that feeling of love when it’s something that he’s never experienced. “Am I doing this right?” He would ask himself. “Can she tell that I’ve never done this before?” And “I’m just protecting her.”

The urge to keep you close to him at all times was intense, it was borderline too much but he loved you and even though he couldn’t always say how he was feeling, he tried to show it. You were his weakness.

Billy could stay calm in almost any situation, he never cracked under pressure except when it came to you, he felt like it was his duty to protect and defend you anytime the universe told him he had to. Tonight would end up being one of those times.

First came the flowers, then the balloons that spelled out “I Love You” were delivered, followed by the chocolate covered strawberries. They came with a note from Billy “Enjoy them, beautiful. But don’t spoil your dinner. Love, Billy.” You could only shake your head and smile reading the note, it all felt like a fairy tale.

***************

He always made you feel so loved, although at times you had to remind him he didn’t have to try so hard. It didn’t always have to be about gifts and fancy restaurants, sometimes coffee and a doughnut says “I love you” just as much as a designer bag or a new necklace does.

The gifts were especially extravagant after a fight or one of his fits of jealousy. Billy didn’t really know how to just say “I’m sorry,” or how to admit he was jealous, possessive at times, or overprotective.

He would just shut down and leave, only to return later with a little blue box or flowers. When you would tell him you didn’t want them, he would get angry. He didn’t know what to do so it just made him frustrated with himself.

“I don’t know what you want from me, y/n!!” He had shouted.

All you had wanted was an apology, to have his arms draped around you and to say “I’m sorry, my love. I’m sorry.”

“I want you to tell me that you’re sorry, Billy! Gifts can’t tell me that you’re sorry, YOU need to tell me that! You can’t just fly off the handle every time a guy looks at me in a way you don’t like!” You told him.

His dark chocolate like eyes quickly changed from angry to sad, he didn’t know what to say, it was just so hard for him because he’s always kept everything buried deep down inside, hidden away from everyone, hidden from the world. No one had ever taught him how to love.

“It’s hard for me y/n. Do you understand how hard this is for me?! I don’t know how to do this!” With his head buried in his hands, he paused, the look of guilt had washed over him and it made your heart hurt to watch the agony he must be in because he couldn’t say exactly what he wanted to.

The silence was excruciating but he finally pulled you in close, his body felt warm, and your shoulders relaxed as he brushed his hands up and down your back, whispering over and over again “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry.”

These were the times Billy needed reassurance. He needed to be told you loved him and “I’m still here, Billy. I’m not going anywhere.” But you urged him to try to communicate with his words how he was feeling, no matter how difficult it was.

“I really need you to try, Billy. Please? Can you do that for me?” You pleaded.

He brushed his knuckles over your cheek and leaned forward to kiss you. The energy behind the kiss was passionate and full of love, he loved you with everything he had, and he truly was sorry. He would try harder.

That was then, but it was getting easier for him now, especially with your help. He felt like he could do anything as long as he had you by his side, helping him to learn about what it all means, about what had eluded him for all these years…love.

***************

Always on time, Billy arrived home promptly at 6, threw his keys on the table and called out for you.

“Baby? Where are ya? Are ya ready for din—ho-ly shit.” Billy started to say as you walked out from the bedroom in your black cocktail dress. The deep V and puffed sleeves were sexy without being too much.

It was difficult to surprise him but you had managed to sneak the dress home without him seeing it before tonight.

A slight smile stretched across your face as Billy continued to stare at you, his jaw practically on the floor as you said “Welcome home, my love. What’s wrong? Is there something on my dress?” You gave him a slow turn all the way around so he could take in ALL of you, biting down on your lower lip as you teased him. You knew exactly what you were doing.

As you finished turning around, Billy was right there, his hands swiftly cupped your face and he brushed a stray hair away from your eyes. “You look—so beautiful. Maybe I should just have you for dinner.” He started to kiss up and down your neck. It turned you on.

As much as you wanted that, you said “Come on, Mr. Russo. You promised me a nice dinner, so let’s go. You can enjoy your dessert later.” You smacked him on his ass, gave him a wink, and grabbed your clutch and your coat.

Billy couldn’t keep his hands off of you, from the elevator ride down to the lobby, in the car on your way to the restaurant, and even at the bar while you waited for your table.

And now that the date was finally here, he mentioned that it took him a couple of months to get a reservation there. It was a beautiful Italian restaurant called Scarpetta on Madison Avenue.

“You didn’t have to do this, Billy. I would have been happy if you brought home Chinese food.” You said.

He kissed you on the forehead. “It’s a special night, baby. I wanted to take you some place really nice.”

A flash of heat burned through you as he smiled a slightly wicked smile at you. You weren’t sure you deserved to be spoiled like this but you let him because Billy always did what he wanted to anyway.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight, princess?” He asked.

You continued to blush as the hostess led you to your corner table. “Not in the last ten minutes, baby.”

You continued walking towards your table, and even in the low warm glow of the restaurant lights, you recognized him as you sat down. The smile faded from your face and without warning, you felt a tightness in your shoulders.

Your ex—Eric was seated at a table not too far from yours. He looked the same, the woman he was with was wearing a ring, and he was too. He was married. Better her than you, that’s for sure.

Billy could tell something was bothering you. “Baby, what’s wrong?” He asked.

“Hmmm? Oh nothing. Everything’s fine, Billy.” You lied, glancing down at the menu in front of you.

He knew you were lying, he tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes at you. “Y/n, come on, what is it? What’s wrong?”

You came clean. “Ok, you see that guy across from us? Sitting with the blonde.” You turned away as Billy turned and glanced towards Eric’s table.

He rotated back towards you. “The guy with the big ears? Yeah, what about him?”

You let out a slight cackle and gently elbowed him in the ribs. “Y-yes, the guy with the big ears. Stop making me laugh like that, this is a nice place. Anyway, that’s my ex.”

You shuddered slightly, as Billy took your hand in his. “His back is towards us, my love. It’s ok, I’m here.” He had a worried look in his eyes when he noticed how nervous you were. “My god, what did he do to you?” Billy gnashed his teeth and his eyes glazed over darker than they were before glaring in the direction of Eric’s table.

You took your hand back, placed them both on Billy’s face, and brushed his beard with your thumbs. You knew he wouldn’t be satisfied with an answer of “I don’t wanna talk about it.” So you gave him an answer that was the truth but generic.

“Billy…” You paused, closed your eyes briefly and let out a long exhale. “Let’s just say he didn’t treat me very well and was—“ You were scared to say the next part out loud in fear of what Billy might do. “He was very—verbally abusive, degrading, and made me feel terrible about myself. And he…he scared me sometimes.”

Billy tightly gripped the cloth napkin in his hand, the whites on his knuckles noticeable as you looked down at his shaking hands. White, hot anger displayed all over his face, as you tried to calm him down.

“Hey, hey Billy look at me please. I don’t want to do this here, ok? I want to have a nice romantic dinner with you and then go home so you can rip this dress off and kiss every inch of my body, ok?” You had a feeling that might calm him down.

Billy let go of the napkin, his expression softened and he chuckled a little. He pulled you closer so your thigh was touching his, Billy always felt better when his body was touching yours in some way.

Without another word about it, Billy leaned closer to kiss you, forced the server to wait while he did then ordered you both a glass of red wine and the creamy polenta to start with.

Dinner conversation was a combination of funny and extra funny. Billy told you some old stories of his days in the marines, stuff that he and Frank would get up to on down time. They sounded like quite the duo and it was so nice to see Billy laugh reminiscing about the fun times he had in the marines and not worrying about your ex who was only a couple tables away.

You both traded work stories, laughed with each other like you were the only two people in that restaurant, he just couldn’t take his eyes off of you, and the two of you were having a really nice time. At one point during one of Billy’s stories, you let out a laugh that caught the attention of your ex.

His ears perked up like he recognized your laugh, Eric’s head swiveled in the direction of where your laugh came from and out of the corner of your eye, you noticed he was getting up and walking towards your table.

Oh shit.

Billy could see that your expression had hardened, your whole body had tensed, and you had his hand under the table in a death grip. The very sight of Eric so close to you made you feel like retching and wanting to punch him right in the face. Billy was trying to calm you down as he whispered in your ear “I’m right here, baby.” And he tenderly kissed your temple.

Eric stopped in front of your table, you and Billy were staring up at him with slight disdain written all over your faces. “Wow, y/n! It’s been awhile. I recognize that laugh anywhere.”

Sitting up straight and trying to smile, you responded. “Uh, yes it has Eric. Yes it has.” You turned towards Billy to introduce him. “Eric, this is my boyfriend Billy Russo.” Billy stood up to shake Eric’s hand, narrowed his eyes at him and squeezed his hand to the point where it probably was quite painful.

“Nice to meet you, Billy. That’s a nice suit.” He paused so he could look Billy up and down, like he was sizing him up and turned his gaze back to you. "Oh I’m married now, yeah.” He pointed to the ring on his finger. “That’s my wife, Laura over there.” Eric pointed towards his table.

You put on a fake smile. “That’s great, Eric. I’m happy for you. I’d really like to get back to my dinner now though, if you don’t mind.”

With a shocked look on his face, Eric said “Oh! Right, absolutely. My apologies, I’ll let you get back to your dinner, it was nice meeting you, Bill. And it was really nice to see you again, y/n.”

All you could manage to say was “Thank you.” And he walked back to his table.

Your entire body had seized seeing Eric again but having Billy next to you, holding your hand, made it easier for you and he helped to calm and soothe you so you could get back to enjoying your night out.

Carrying on with your dinner, you didn’t notice that Eric had gotten up to presumably use the restroom but Billy did, so he kissed you on the forehead and excused himself.

Billy wasn’t sure what he was going to do, maybe he wouldn’t even do anything but it didn’t mean he wasn’t prepared. Billy was a very good judge of character, he had a theory and wanted to test it out.

“But Billy, your food. I don’t want it to get cold.” You said.

He smiled slyly at you. “I’ll be right back, baby.” He said, and then he was gone.

You shrugged your shoulders slightly, took a sip of your wine, and continued to eat your dinner before looking straight ahead, noticing that Eric was not at his table. “Oh fuck…Billy. What are you doing?” You whispered to yourself out loud, almost choking on your wine.

Inside the restroom, Billy exited the stall and started to wash his hands, when Eric slid in beside him and started washing his hands also. He looked over at Billy. “Heyyyy, Billy Russo, right?”

“You’ve got a good memory.” Billy said sarcastically, rolling his eyes slightly.

Eric reached over with his wet hands and put one on Billy’s shoulder, drenching his white dress shirt. “Ya, know…you sure do have quite a grip there, Bill. You squeezed my hand pretty hard.” He said as he put pressure on Billy’s shoulder. “I’m glad I ran into you again. I wanted to tell you that Y/n is lookin’ reeeeeally good.”

There it is. Billy had a feeling if the opportunity presented itself, Eric would try and provoke him.

Billy was starting to get angry, it infuriated him at the very mention of your name coming from that asshole’s mouth but he tried to keep his cool. “Eric…Take your hand off me. NOW.”

Eric didn’t listen, he did have more to say, however. “I’m sure she told you alllllll about me, didn’t she?” He had a smug look on his face as he continued. “I’m sure she told you all about how mean I was to her, and yeah sure I called her names sometimes but for the most part I treated her pretty well. She just sat back and took it, I kept her in her place.”

Billy made a fist as he glared at Eric in the reflection of the mirror, he could feel his blood start to boil as Eric continued to talk about you.

“I will say, she was always a little firecracker in bed. One of the best lays I’ve ever had. That’s probably why you keep her around, am I right?” He smirked.

“No. I’m with her because I LOVE her.” Billy said curtly. His patience wearing thin.

Still, Billy kept calm even though he was shaking with rage as he tried to walk away. Eric followed him out of the men’s room, grabbed Billy’s shoulder and spun him around so they were nose to nose. “She is lookin’ really good though. What do ya say, Bill? How ‘bout you let me hit that one more time—“

Billy cracked, this guy said the one thing that made him forget all about trying to keep calm and not fly off the handle. It all went out the window when Eric made that comment.

Acting like he was going to walk away, Billy then drew back and punched Eric so hard in the face that one of his teeth came flying out of his mouth. Another punch to the stomach and to the face, Billy couldn’t stop, pretty soon Eric’s entire face was bloody.

As you continued to eat, you heard commotion coming from around the corner. People were leaving their tables to see what was going on, then came the screams and the sounds of broken dishes. You didn’t need to see what was going on, you knew Billy was involved somehow. There was no need to get up and look, you would find out soon enough.

After the screams and shrieks died down, the hostess came to your table.

“Uh, miss? I am very sorry to tell you but, Mr. Russo has been arrested.” She said while you happened to notice another hostess telling Eric’s wife, what you imagine was, the same thing.

You were shocked but not really and a little embarrassed. “What?!!” But you collected yourself and stayed calm. “Well ok, do you mind if I finish my dinner first before I leave to go get him?” You asked, feeling all of the stares from strangers pointing in your direction.

You could tell the hostess felt a little bad for you. “Absolutely, miss. Is there anything else I can do for you?” She asked.

“Would you box up his food for me and I’ll take a piece of the Valrhona chocolate cake to go, please?” You said.

Your server wrapped up Billy’s food and you enjoyed the rest of your Valentine’s Day dinner alone before going to bail him out of jail.

When you arrived at the police station, they took you to Billy’s holding cell where he didn’t notice you at first. He was leaning up against the bars with his eyes closed, small spatters of blood were sprinkled on his shirt and it looked like he had a small cut on his lip, Eric must have hit him at least once.

“Hey there, Rocky.” You gave him a half smile.

Opening his eyes, Billy looked happy to see you but his face had “sorry” written all over it. “Baby, I am SO sorry. I just—he pushed and pushed—and what he said. I wasn’t gonna let him talk about you like that—“ He said.

You interrupted him. “What did he say, Billy?”

“I don’t wanna tell you.” He said shaking his head.

“I wanna know what he said that made you that upset. I saw his face, Billy. You beat him pretty badly.” You told him.

Billy hung his head in shame. “He said that you always were a little firecracker in bed, one of the best lays he’s ever had. Then asked me if—if I’d let him ‘hit that’ one more time and I don’t remember much after that.”

You felt violated in a way, closed your body off from Billy by wrapping your arms around yourself and looking away from him, disgusted with Eric talking about intimate details of your relationship.

“I tried not letting him get to me, I tried walking away but when he said that—“ Billy violently shook his head back and forth. “I just couldn’t let him get away with it. I snapped—I’m sorry, my love.”

What Billy didn’t know was there was someone else in the restroom at the time Eric was provoking him. He told the owner of the restaurant and the police that he was surprised Billy didn’t punch him sooner than he did.

The restaurant wasn’t pressing charges and after the witness told the police what Eric had said and how he kept provoking Billy, he declined to press charges also so Billy was free to go.

“Well…I did not picture spending my Valentine’s Day in jail.” You said.

He extended his arms and reached out for you to pull you close to the bars. “Well, my love if you wanna get technical, I’M the one that’s in jail.”

You let out a little laugh. “This is true.”

Billy suddenly had a confused look on his face. “Hang on…did you stay and finish your dinner before coming here?” He asked, holding up a one finger to playfully scold you a little.

You knew he was joking with you so you scolded him back in a lighthearted tone. “I had to pay for it anyway Billy so yes, I enjoyed my food while it was hot! Don’t worry, I had them wrap yours.” You shook the bag in front of his nose. “I got a piece of chocolate cake for you too, even though I’m not sure you deserve it.” You said with a wink.

Billy’s eyes widened. “I said I was sorry, baby! Wait. Did—did you say chocolate cake?”

The man’s sweet tooth was insatiable.

“Oh you are gonna have to earn this chocolate cake, Billy Russo!” You snapped. “And you owe me for having to pay for my own Valentine’s Day dinner!”

But your expression softened, and you remembered that Billy apologized without being prompted to do so. It was the first thing he said when he saw you, he was getting better at communicating, so he was trying harder even though he still lost his temper.

What happened wasn’t about him this time though. It wasn’t about him being jealous, it was about defending you, wanting to protect you so that Eric couldn’t hurt you or say anything about you that would upset you.

You pulled back away from the bars and removed your phone from your clutch.

“Anything you want, sweet girl.” He said. “Wait, what are you doing?”

“Well first, I’m taking your picture to send to Frank. He’s gonna get a kick outta this.” You started to laugh, Billy wasn’t really amused but he cracked a smile anyway. You always seemed to be able to pull a smile from him even when he didn’t want to.

Slowly, you walked towards him. Reaching through the bars, you snaked your arms around his waist and tried to kiss him as best as you could without the bars getting in the way.

“Thank you, Billy.” You said.

With a surprised look on his face, he replied “For what? For getting thrown in jail and ruining our Valentine’s Day?” He asked, his voice still apologetic for what he had done.

“Well besides that…even though it may not look like it, you did show a lot of restraint tonight. Eric pushed you too far and I bet he’ll think twice before running his mouth about anyone else like that ever again. And you didn’t ruin my Valentine’s Day, Billy—the day isn’t over yet, my love. Let’s go home.” You said as the two of you exchanged smiles through the bars of the jail cell.

When you arrived at home, you told Billy he owed you a dance. You knew it wasn’t something he was very fond of doing but he did say you could have whatever you wanted plus he still had to earn that chocolate cake. The song starts.

I look and stare so deep in your eyes. I touch on you more and more every time. When you leave I'm beggin' you not to go. Call your name two, three times in a row

Billy smiled warmly at you and extended his hand for you to take it and pulled you flush against his chest as you moved together slowly to the music. He held your hand in his over his heart as he kissed the top of your head, just like he had done the night you met.

Such a funny thing for me to try to explain. How I'm feeling and my pride is the one to blame, yeah. 'Cause I know I don't understand. Just how your love can do what no one else can

He danced with you anytime you asked him to, albeit reluctantly, he did it because he loved you. He knew how much you loved that song and he would never do it for anyone else.

“I still have one more present for you, my love.” He whispered to you as the music continued.

Your kiss's got me hoping you save me right now. Lookin' so crazy, your love's got me lookin'. Got me lookin' so crazy in love

You hummed into his chest, your eyes closed, and a wide smile spread across your face. “Hmmmmm…Oh yeah? Well I’m enjoying just listening to your heart beat right now, handsome.” You pulled away gently to look into his deep brown eyes as you said “How about you give it to me tomorrow.”

He looked down at you and kissed you on the forehead. “Whatever you want, beautiful. I love you.”

“I love you too, Billy.” You said as you finished the dance in the warm glow of the candlelight and the city lights outside, shining brightly through your living room window.

Billy would never let anyone say anything malicious about you, the woman he treasured, the woman that taught him the real meaning of love. Billy Russo never failed to show you how deep his love was for you, so if slow dancing with you in the living room was what you wanted from him, then he would happily do that until you told him to stop or until his very last breath, whichever came first.

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If you’d like to be added to (or removed from) my tag list for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕

#Spotify #billy russo fluff #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfic #billy russo #billy russo imagine #thirsty for cox writing challenge #tfc writing challenge #thirsty for cox February challenge

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rei-ismyname · 4 months ago

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New X-FORCE #1 is FIRE 🔥🔥🔥

Keeping it spoiler free for now, but if the book stays good I'll write on it regularly. Issue one was excellent! Really really cool. Forge and Sage were two of my favourite characters from the Krakoan era - they got a lot of page time and solid development but they were always supporting players. That dynamic is flipped here, as well as the attitude to war crimes and the mission statement, it seems. Percy's X-FORCE this is not. As Forge is the leader (assumption based on his narrative prominence and driving the plot) expect wondrous machines and ingenious upgrades to current tech. It looks like the solicited character of Tank is named quite literally - not a mutant at all but the non-biological equivalent of calling in heavy support. That's the impression I get from #1, though they could be a person in a suit or who knows? That's the beauty of having Forge around his limits are undefined and there's hints of his gift getting a serious level up at a cost. He did jack shit in Heir of Apocalypse except get a confusing compliment from Big Blue, it's nice to put that travesty behind us and see what the man can do.

When I think about Sage and Forge's mutant gifts and what they're capable of, especially when working together, I can't help but get excited for a book where the promise is exploring that potential in service of saving the world. Add Askani to that and it feels like miracles are in the future, or at least some Krakoa-style mutant circuits with Technopathy, Computer Brain, Chronokinesis, Chronoskimming, Telekinesis, Telepathy, and whatever machines Forge has on hand. Marvel's new(ish) power couple of Rachel and Betsy are the big guns, but everyone goes into the field. I love both characters and enjoy them even more as a couple but I get the feeling they're coming out of a long honeymoon phase. It'll be exciting to see what drama is born of their different values, experiences and motivations.

The other From The Ashes teams have been in Krakoa's long shadow, and the shadow of X-FORCE is longer than most. I'm not sure if they're trying to redeem the name or what, because the name of the brand isn't good for much except perhaps intimidating people. It's spent the last few years in-universe as Krakoa's CIA, complete with a LOT of assassinations, toppling regimes, a cheeky genocide, torture, mind controlling people, running a black site prison where people were held without charge or even having done anything wrong (by Krakoa - a foreign nation to all of them,) surveiling their own people, and so much more. Before that it was more decentralised black ops - preemptive strikes, often lethal, on enemies of mutantkind. It is discussed in the issue, but very briefly and not explained. It doesn't seem to be Forge's primary motivation, but he built a lot of the weaponry and gadgets X-FORCE used so he may be seeking some personal redemption as well. Any degree of complicity in War Crimes is too much for most, especially someone who's as altruistic as Forge. He has his own military history, having been drafted for Vietnam at a young age and working as a military contractor until fairly recently. The 'worst thing he ever made' was a gun that depowers mutants. It was originally built to take down Rogue but ended up hitting Storm instead (see Lifedeath 1 & 2 from Uncanny X-Men.) She's clearly on his mind at the start of the issue so it's a valid read IMO. More recently it's been reproduced by an old coworker with a photographic memory - enslaved by a mutant hate group and then memory wiped once freed. He willingly gave/traded it to Emma Frost in Inferno, who then gave it to Mystique and Destiny to depower Moira. Whether it's all of that or none of it, Forge is certainly the loss of Krakoa like everyone else.

Betsy Braddock has the most X-FORCE experience of anyone on the team, though her membership has generally coincided with times of self loathing and unhealthy codependent relationships. New Betsy, new body, new title - I'm hoping she can keep it together and be happy. It's certainly a healthier team to be on at first glance, but it feels like she only joined bc Rachel did. Less/no murder should help, but we can hope this isn't another phase like that. Bets has had a tough few decades and she deserves some happiness. It definitely feels like her participation is highly conditional, though all the characters have been the conscience of a team before - so if there's moral decay we can expect a very good reason for it. I don't think it's That Kind of Book, though.

A good first issue is often a mission statement and a taste of things to come, and X-FORCE #1 knocks it out of the park, answering every question you could want from the solicits while posing many new ones and hooking the reader. It hits the ground running and doesn't stop until the last page, expertly showing us where everyone is mentally and establishing a team dynamic with promise. I predict internal compromise and growth while they're running from problem to problem. The central mystery especially is fascinating, and something is going on with Forge. We're given hints, but it's been content to show not tell and take its time with information.

It's very clear that the fall of Krakoa affected everyone and made the world a far more dangerous place for mutants. A certain disrespect for borders and governments is necessary, an asset, and a lurking danger - even for a team whose goals are above all that. I heavily recommend it!

Also Forge has a holodeck! It's no danger room but it's super cool that he built it himself. See what I mean that something is going on with him?

#x force #marvel #x men #comics #forge #sage #betsy braddock #askani #surge #spoiler free #x comics #from the ashes #captain britain #rachel summers

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ryunumber · 1 year ago

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what would be the ryu number for the Anguished One from smt devil survivor 2? (including record breaker rerelease if that helps)

i'm mostly wondering how long it would take to get to joker - or if there's a different path. my first thought would be via jack frost but i figure as a species he comes under the same rule as pokemon species; in desu2 at least you can definitely get multiple of most demons, only a few are unique (and if you have a unique one then they won't show up in fights they normally would) i'm also wondering if you'd class (ignoring species clause for example's sake) jack frost as a demon and jack frost as a persona as the same being? i personally would, but curious as to how you'd go about it - if you don't, it might be a lot more difficult to get into persona territory, but once you get to anything from p3 onwards it's easy from there (thanks q)

(sorry for long infodump-ish. i've been thinking about this for a while before asking the expert) (also this game is underappreciated fite me)

The Anguished One has a Ryu Number of 2.

(explanation below)

As a Deity, I believe Osiris should be a Unique Demon and meet the eligibility criteria.

As for Demons vs. Persona, I'm also slightly inclined to count them as the same being thanks to a greater chance of visual continuity and a mechanical requirement that only one of each Persona ever be present at the same time, but given what a Persona actually is in-universe (discussed in some detail here), it's iffy getting them involved in the first place, which is why if at all possible I prefer to avoid using them in routes.

#anguished one #devil survivor 2 #desu2 #shin megami tensei #smt #megami tensei #devil survivor #megaten #ryu number

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gefdreamsofthesea · 9 months ago

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Spot the lie: Shin Megami Tensei edition

Note: I'm including everything under the SMT label in English except the Persona games. No I don't care if they're technically part of another subseries in Japan. Also, these apply to the original releases. I know some have been updated but I haven't played them.

I especially want to hear from people who haven't played them because this feels too easy for a veteran.

Poll results are in and I'm very disappointed that only 3.7% of you got it right.

I will now reveal the correct answers:

1. TRUE - The first major boss in Devil Survivor, Beldr, can only be killed by mistletoe, a mistletoe-shaped cellphone strap is just as effective.

2. TRUE - Yggdrasil is sapient and steals time warping powers from the Disir. The protagonist has to go back in time to save themselves with the help of the Norns (who have evolved from the Disir who gave him the quest, you know like Pokemon)

3. TRUE - Dante made a guest appearance in the original release of SMT Nocturne. Later versions replaced him with Raidou Kuzunoha, the protagonist of two games in the Devil Summoner spinoff series

4. TRUE - It's ordinary literature, there's nothing wrong with it the citizens of the Eastern Kingdom of Mikado are just that brainwashed

5. TRUE - The entry is in Strange Journey. "Originally, he looked like an abominable snowman, but perhaps he changed form to more efficiently freeze people."

6. TRUE - The bondage angel design debuted in SMT 2. Here's a screenshot of SMT 1 showing its original design.

7. TRUE - A lot of people voted for this one but it's actually true. Cerberus' single head is a reference to the original novel the series is based on (Digital Devil Story). He is depicted with three heads in SMT: IMAGINE, Soul Hackers, and Digital Devil Saga.

8. TRUE - I did not know the origin of David's name myself so I looked it up. His design is possibly a reference to the poem Danse Macabre by Camille Saint-Saens.

9. FALSE (ish) - It's actually the reverse: Astaroth wishes to become the goddess Ishtar (technically to return to being Ishtar but in game terms Ishtar is treated as his "evolution"). He is usually required in order to fuse her. In some games, the two don't appear to be connected at all.

10. TRUE - As the accuser, Satan is part of the Law alignment (and therefore on YHVH's side) against Lucifer, who (usually) represents the Chaos alignment. His role in SMT IV Apocalypse is more complicated.

Anyways good job everyone. Everyone gets a cookie.

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applepiesupreme · 5 months ago

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American Apple Pie

Pairing: Low/Mid Honor Arthur Morgan and female OC.

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Savigne Ricci is a temporary guest at the Van der Linde camp. Her path crosses with the enforcer of the gang, Arthur Morgan and despite their differences, a relationship develops between them. Whole lot of smut and fluff, slow burn-ish.

Chapter 16

AOC Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54945853/chapters/143748358

They rode into camp and she slid off as soon as Frost stopped to run over to Cricket. She hugged his neck and kissed his cheek, then talked to him with affection about how much she missed him. Arthur gave her a dry look as he hit the ground but she ignored him.

“Are you okay my love? Did they feed you well here? Were you nervous coming over? I know, I know! I bet they didn’t give you your treats every evening,” she whispered, combing through his mane with her fingers. “I thought about you all the time! Every day! My big boy.”

She heard Arthur mutter something dark under his breath as he walked by her into camp and she ignored that, too.

“A whole week,” she said quietly, palming his ears as he nodded with excitement, “Mommy is sorry. I had to go. But I’m back now and how is my beautiful, my gorgeous, my amazing, my one and only, my precious…”

“Ya done yet?”

She gave him a poisonous side-eye. For whatever reason, he stood in the middle of camp, valise at hand, waiting for her.

“I’ll be back later, I’ll find you apples. Maybe we’ll ride out to that tree together. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she whispered and kissed Cricket a final time before she inhaled with determination and walked in his direction.

She saw Hosea by Dutch’s tent raise his hand in greeting and she waved back with a smile. Behind him, Dutch was leaning on his tent pole and walked out of sight when her eyes landed on him. Micah was close by, his face still blue and purple, his stitches still in place but not as deformed as she had hoped he would be, arms crossed, leering.

Her eyes glided to the left and she saw the empty spot where Arthur’s tent used to be. Her brows furrowed in confusion as she walked towards him. “Where’s your…”

She flinched as if burned when he took her hand. He turned and started to walk to the outskirts of the camp where her tent was, ignoring her attempt to jerk it back. Karen walked by, giving her a lecherous smile and she smiled back politely, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks.

“We’re in camp!” she hissed, stumbling to follow him.

Arthur strolled on with that confident gait as if he hadn’t heard, puling her in his wake.

“Welcome back!” Jack piped up from where he sat and Savigne smiled at him. Her gaze traveled up to meet Abigail and Tilly’s eyes and she helplessly twisted her fingers to slither out of his grip. To her astonishment, his hand clamped down even harder.

“Have you lost your-”

The rest of the sentence evaporated in her head when her eyes landed on the spot where her tent used to be. Her tent wasn’t there anymore. In its place was Arthur’s tent, but it looked considerably bigger.

“Uh…where is…” she stammered, “…what’s that?”

She walked the rest of the way willingly, confused and curious. The structure was still the same – the canvas attached to the cart, draped over poles. But the poles were set further away and additional poles had been added to carry the weight of the larger canvas. A second, thicker maroon canvas was draped over the lighter one, currently bunched up and tied up higher. The knots could be released to let it drape over the first layer for added privacy or warmth or adjusted to be pulled up to let light in through the white one underneath. She gaped at it with astonishment – like it was an ancient structure that had popped out of the sea within a fortnight, covered in shells and seaweed.

Arthur walked up to the flap on the side that was facing away from camp and strolled in. She stood rooted when he released her. The inside looked similar with stacked crates, but there was an addition of furniture of shelves and two chairs pushed against a small table. The bed was quit a bit bigger, still attached to the cart on one side and supported with sturdy legs on the other to stabilize it. Her bedroll was rolled up and tucked into a corner. Her eyes glided over her clothes, neatly folded and placed on a shelf with her books underneath and her basket leaning against it.

She had the wherewithal to close her mouth as her gaze came full circle and landed on the man standing in the middle. There was an unreadable expression on his face – trepidation?

“What’s going on?” she managed finally.

He rolled his shoulders and scratched the back of his neck, then took off his hat to throw it on one of the crates.

“Ya like it?”

“I…sure. I mean…it’s nice. But…” She glanced at her possessions. A distant part of her mind noticed that the books were out of order and for a moment her fingers itched to fix it. “Why is my stuff in here?”

He gave her look that asked if she was stupid and it was probably well deserved.

“Our tent now,” he said casually. “Yer stayin’ here with me.” Then an added mumble: “At least I hope y’are.”

A long moment passed in stunned silence as she internalized the words. He palmed his beard and pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat on it. Savigne felt herself gliding to carefully sit on the bed across from him, first testing its sturdiness, then relaxing onto it. She swallowed and tried to think but all she could think of was his hand gripping hers to walk her through camp and her heart did a double thump at the meaning of it.

Her eyes crawled around the tent. It felt as spacious as a house after her previous one. The fabric, a creamy white, broke the harshness of the bright afternoon sun, bathing the inner space with a soft glow. It rustled and swayed gently in the summer breeze, moving, breathing as if it was a living thing. It was peaceful in here, quiet and cozy. She never had owned a home but she must have constructed, decorated, painted one in her mind a thousand times. It wasn't the cabin of her dreams, but it was closer to a home than anything else she had lived in before.

She found him watching her, his blue gaze shimmering with apprehension.

“Said I would fix it,” he muttered, sounding somewhat offended by her surprise, before he fished out a cigarette to play with.

Yes, he had said it but naturally she had dismissed it because in all their time together he had never implied that he thought of her as anything more than an affair. He had been gentle and polite, but he had never done the things people associate with affection and devotion: he had never complimented her, had never expressed interest in wanting a real relationship with her, had never bought a gift or even picked a couple of measly flowers for her. The most sentimental thing he had done were the handwritten notes and half of those had been to communicate a departure or to set up a meeting place.

But somewhere, somehow she had made an oversight. She had bought into his reserved and rough facade and forgotten that this was also the same man who had come to blows with Micah, would have killed him if not for the interference of others. For what Micah had done to her. The man who had obviously created a strain between himself and a man he had been obscenely loyal to for decades, his mentor and father figure. For her. And last but not least, had - without delay or hesitation - risked his life. To save her. Now sitting in this tent he had built just for her, had moved away from camp because she preferred it so, among the new furniture he had cobbled together so she would be comfortable, Savigne couldn’t help but feel like he had told her that he valued her all along, but in a language she didn’t speak, with words she couldn’t understand.

”Why did you hide us?” she asked, suddenly unsure about everything, especially her own judgement.

He looked away and ran a hand through his hair. "Don’ matter. I know it was wrong.”

“It matters to me,” she said.

He exhaled a long breath and sat back in his chair, spreading his legs. It was a quiet, breezy summer early afternoon. Most people in camp were gone to wherever they went during the day, there was just the distant chatter of the women talking as they worked. He seemed to be in thought, absent-mindedly playing with the cigarette in his hands. She was used to his long pauses and determined to find out what was going on in that head of his, so she waited.

"Think maybe I envied you long time an’ didn’ know it," he said slowly. "Envied what you had and wan'ed the same for m'self."

”How do you mean?” was the incredulous question.

All she remembered from their earliest encounters was a profound lack of interest tinged with mild distaste towards her. A lot of characters in camp had made her uneasy those first days - she had feared Micah's dead gaze, had been disturbed by the clever spark in Dutch's eye, she even remembered feeling uncomfortable about Sadie's hot, quiet anger, so of course she had also noticed Arthur's hardness and intensity. She could tell that he was a rough man, a man with a mean streak, a no nonsense man. So she had glided around him as much as possible and darted straight to her tent whenever she felt his sizzling azure gaze on herself. Thankfully he had also been the busiest member of the gang and more away then present and not the type to strike a conversation with her, so the first few weeks had passed with what could only be called mutual aversion. Then somewhere further down the line he must have come to a conclusion about her because his lack of interest had morphed into a scrutinizing, judgmental, critical gaze. She had made peace with the fact that he didn't like her because frankly, she didn't like him much, either. If Cricket hadn't been stolen that day in Valentine and he hadn't walked out the bat doors of the saloon the very moment he had, odds were she would have never interacted with him.

He leaned forward to place his elbows on his knees and inspected his hands for a while.

"You came and went as you pleased." he tried to explain. "No folks hanging on yer skirts. No mouths to feed but yer own…Thought for a long time I didn' like you for it. But...looking back...think I envied it. All you had was yer own. Your money was yer own, your time was yer own, your business was yer own..." He trailed off for a while. "Used t’think I was free," he huffed darkly. "You was more free than I ever was. Guess I wan'ed somethin' for m'self, too." He scratched his beard and looked up to see if she understood, that unapologetic intensity back in his eyes for a moment: "Wan'ed you for m'self."

She dropped her gaze, unable to hold his for a moment, but understood what he meant too well. Growing up around hundreds of other kids didn’t allow a lot of privacy or ownership.

Then he added “I love the gang,” as if he had said something sacrilegious and needed to clarify. “Would die for these folks." She nodded again. "But…I been restless. Tired, maybe.” He massaged the back of his neck.

"Thank you. For explaining," she said finally and picked lint off her skirts for a short silence. "Wish you would have done that in Saint Denis."

He snorted. "Tried."

"I might have been..." she trailed, trying to come up with the right word.

His eyebrows ticked up as he sat back to cross his arms.

"...a little..."

His eyebrows rose higher.

"...testy."

"Yeah, that ain't the word."

"Anyhow, that's in the past," she said quickly and ignored his amused hum. “Seems to me,” she sighed, “you should maybe try to do a lot more talking and I should do a lot less thinking.”

The corner of his lips curled and the blue in his eyes was softer when he looked up.

”Yer hesitatin',” he said carefully when the lighter moment passed. “Thought ya wan’ed…more?”

“I mean I did…” She bit her lip, undeniably nervous at the prospect of becoming not just an actual couple, but one that shared a living space.

“Ain’t nothing to fear,” he said softly, reading her tension. “I don’ bite.”

“I know that,” she huffed. “It’s just…I never lived with someone. Not like that. Feels more…” The word she was reaching for was ‘serious’, but she decided against it. “I’m just thinking it might be different.”

He nodded slowly, focused on rolling the cigarette between thumb and finger. She knew he had never shared a tent, either, so this was new territory for him, too. “Might be different.” His eyes flicked up to her. “Might be better?” he suggested. He crossed his arms again and looked around the tent. “More room,” he shrugged.

She grinned a little and absentmindedly played with her fingers, imagining she could still feel the residue of his grasp on her hand and it made her heart flutter.

“That’s true,” she admitted. “But, for example, I don’t even know if I snore,” she posed.

“I don’ mind,” he said dismissively.

“What if we like things different?” she waved her arm at the furniture.

His shoulders hitched. ”I ain’t fussy.”

She bit a nail. “What if you come in late or I wake up early to go to work and…”

There was a smidge of amusement in his eyes when he looked at her. “Ain’t no big deal.”

”And what if…”

”Savigne…” he interjected gently, as if she was a spooked horse, “…all that don’ matter none.”

Asking the important questions here, are we?

She concentrated on her boots.

"Ain't gonna force you,” he said at last. The cigarette weaved between his fingers, looping back and forth and back and forth. “I ain’t a good man,” he huffed with a bitter tinge, “that don' gone changed. I understand if ya don' wanna.” He jabbed his chin at one of the crates: “I’ll put up yer tent if you say so.”

Jesus, he has a scathing inner voice, too, she thought, surprised. It was sobering, to see a man so self confident and so capable have his own demons to wrestle.

”I do want to,” she said quietly.

He gave her a look, and even though it was well masked, she read his surprise in it. The surprise of a man who had gambled and thrown the dice, hoping for the best but expecting the worst. "Way I see it..." he cleared his throat, "...worth a shot to...” the expression on his face suggested he was trying to recall the right words, “...'take a leap’.”

"What if it doesn't work out?" she whispered, more somber. She looked up from under her eyebrows. "What if you leap and there's nothing on the other side to land on?"

He took a few moments to mull on it before he finally met her eyes, his gaze now clear and steady: “Only one way to find out.”

Times like this she envied Arthur's simple approach to things. He had a straightforward, no nonsense way about it; he didn't shy away from risk, wasn't afraid of failure, didn't overthink the issue. No doubt it was a big step to take for him, too, but here he was, ready and resolved, standing at the halfway point. And that's as far as he would go. If she was going to meet him on that bridge, she would have to do the crossing alone.

Don't do it. Here there be dragons, Savigne.

The center of the maelstrom yawned ahead of her, terrifying in its darkness. In it, a frontier unknown. The foreboding hinterlands of trust and attachment and commitment. Riddled with the mines of misunderstanding and mistrust, the swamps of jealousy and insecurity, steep peaks of incompatibility, the tundras of dishonesty and the thorny thickets of quarrels. And worse still, somewhere in there, the scepter of that lurking beast: love. Probably pain. Again. Possibly loss. Again. Sadie was wrong - it was madness to agree to all that knowingly, willingly.

And yet...

She glanced at her clothes on the shelf and saw the attempt he had made not just to fold them, but to fold them neatly. The clumsy job of a child, but the effort unmistakable. Seeing that broke something inexplicable inside her and put a lump in her throat. I might actually, really, seriously love this man, she thought to herself, somewhat startled.

Eventually she had the courage to look up at him and he stilled when he saw it. Then his face twisted with discomfort when he saw the tears building up in her eyes. “If ya don’t like it-” he started gruffly.

“I love it,” she sniffed, wiping her cheeks. “Thank you.”

He nodded once, inspecting his hands and the rigidity of his shoulders loosened a little. Then he shifted in the chair, making a point of not looking at her as she patted her skirt pockets to find a handkerchief, a little baffled by her own reaction. She felt raw and vulnerable, exposed like someone had peeled her skin off. She dabbed her eyes, confused what she was crying about but unable to stop all the same.

”I think I’m just tired,” she sniffed after a few minutes. “Was a long trip.”

Her tears had put him back on edge and he fumbled with his cigarette a little longer before he finally decided to light it. He flicked away ash on his shirt that wasn’t there while he shot a glance at her to check if she was done bawling. The tension in his shoulders eased further when he saw that she was.

“I’ll sleep on the bedroll,” he offered around his cigarette as she was wiping the last remnant of tears off her cheeks.

Not if I have anything to say about it, she thought, amused by his attempt for chivalry. But all she said was “Okay.”

He nodded in agreement and threw his legs on the bed beside her. A moment later he flinched at the look she gave him and retrieved his legs to plant his feet on the ground.

“No boots on the bed,” she growled, brushing the spot with a hand. “That’s just nasty.”

“Yes ma’am.”

She sighed into her pillow. Turned on her other side.

Silence.

She sighed again, a little more dramatically and turned again.

“Y’alright there?”

Savigne smiled in the dark, then quickly wiped it off her face, lest he could hear it in her voice.

“Not really.”

Silence.

“What’s the matter?”

She grumbled something incomprehensible.

She heard Arthur grunting to sit up on the bedroll behind her. “What’s that?”

“I think my hair smells of steak,” she said over her shoulder.

A long silence that indicated that he was wondering if he had heard her right.

“I walked in there today without a cap. And now my hair smells of food,” she clarified.

He groaned in exasperation and she smiled wickedly again.

“Y’can wash it in the morning.”

“But I can’t sleep tonight.”

Silence.

“Also, I didn’t get to wipe off my sweat when we arrived. I must stink to high heaven.” All of this was true. She was agitated at the grime on her body and her hair did smell a bit like steak (or at least smoke), but at the moment it was more of an excuse to annoy him.

“You don’ stink,” he muttered and she heard him lie back down.

She sighed again and turned to lie on her left, facing him.

“Woman…”

“What?”

“Ya don’ lie still, 'm gonna tie you down.”

“I’d like to see you try,” she muttered.

“‘Scuse me?”

She bit down a bubble of laughter. She moved to lie on her back. From the corner of her eye she saw Arthur’s head turn towards the bed. The light in the tent was dim so she couldn’t see his expression but she would have bet real money that he was sublimely pissed.

She was getting ready to turn on her right again when warned: “Don’t. Turn.” His voice annoyed, flat.

She flopped back on her left again instead to face him. He clicked his tongue. God, Arthur was harder to rile up than she imagined.

“You’re very cross today, aren’t you?” she said flippantly.

“Wonder why,” was the gruff response.

“You’re cross. Luther was born cross. It’s like I have a type.”

Silence.

“Except for Mr. Dunham.” She watched his body tense like a drawn bowstring. “He was kind of nice.”

“Savigne,” he said lowly a moment later, “yer testin’ my patience.”

A long silence.

She pushed: “He had soft hands.”

Arthur catapulted to his feet and she flinched and sat up in response. They stood there looking at each other in the dark for a long moment.

“You ain’t gonna let me sleep, are ya?” he growled and she suppressed a shiver at his tone.

He took a step towards the bed, then halted in restraint. He was wearing soft cotton bottoms and nothing on top. She couldn’t see his expression but just in case he could see hers, she forced her features to convey innocence.

“I don’t know what you mea-”

“Woman!…”

She sensed his surprise when she rose to her knees to face him. “What?”

“Ya tryin’ to piss me off?” His tone wary and unsure.

She looked at his dark silhouette against the milky moonlight in the tent. “Come closer,” she said quietly.

He hesitated for a moment, but then padded closer to look down at her.

She gathered her hair to one side and exposed her neck. She looked up at him. “Here,” she whispered. “Smell that.”

He hesitated again, then leaned in to her neck. She stood stock still as his nose touched her neck, his lips brushed against her skin, inhaling deep before he withdrew without a word.

“Well?”

“Smells fine t’me,” he said carefully.

She looked at him from under her eyebrows. “Try again.”

Something in his body language shifted. He lightly placed his hand on the other side of her neck and waited a moment to see her reaction. When she didn’t object, he pulled her up a little as he bowed down. His lips traced her neck before a slow kiss bloomed below her ear. When she didn’t move, he placed another one, lower. He stood up again and let go of her neck. His breathing was a little louder.

“Nothing?” she asked. “I think the soap scent of my chemise is masking it". She crossed her arms to grab the hem and lift it over her head and threw it on the floor. She faintly heard his breath hitch.

“There. Try again.”

His hold was firmer, more confident this time as he pulled her up without hesitation and gave her neck a long, slow lick with the flat of his tongue. She gasped and closed her eyes, swaying in his hold. Arthur’s hand on her neck slid to her throat and he closed his fingers, gentle but firm and pushed her back onto the bed while he followed, climbing between her legs. His mouth descended on hers, forceful, and she relented immediately. His other hand cupped her breast hard and she arched into his grasp. He kissed her deeply, violently for long moments, bruising her lips and stealing her breath.

“You ‘ave a mouth on ya today,” he whispered into her ear.

“What are you…going to…do about it?” she whispered back, suppressing a moan as his hand dipped from her breast into her bloomers.

He kissed her again, aggressive and enthusiastic. “Teach you some manners,” was the low grow as he sat up to grip the her bloomers and peel them off her legs. Then he lifted her by her waist to throw her further down the bed as he crawled after and settled between her legs. A split second later his lips were on her folds and she almost screamed in surprise. She tried to scramble away but his hands gripped her thighs and pulled her back as he gave her a long lick with the flat of his tongue.

She moaned and tried to scuttle off but he was faster and jerked her back again. One of her hands shot out to his hair, trying to move his head away, hissing his name. Then she clamped the other palm over her lips as she felt his mouth on her folds, kissing her slow and sensuous, tongue gently lapping and swirling. No one had ever done this to her before and Savigne’s head swam both with self-conscious embarrassment and the the unexpected pleasure. "Stop!" she whispered, "w-wait...just...oh," she flopped and spasmed uselessly as he ignored her pleadings.

The hands on her thighs pressed her open as he settled between her legs. She whined into her palm, feeling completely exposed to him. His tongue was like wet fire, exploring her with confidence, his licking and suckling growing bolder the harder she struggled. She knew fighting him was only making it worse so she made an effort to stop struggling and the grip on her thighs relented in response as he hummed against her with approval. Her head fell back on the bed in momentary submission. He stopped and untangled her hand from his hair and slapped it away.

“Better keep them hands to yerself.” His voice was hard and low. “Or I will��bind you.”

She whimpered another pleading but quickly clapped the second hand on her mouth too as he resumed. His tongue gently traversed up and down, sending shock waves through her before it swirled around her clit and suckled. Savigne shot up halfway despite herself at the searing jolt of pleasure and reflexively tried to snap her thighs close again, crying into her palm. His grip instantly hardened to iron in warning, pushing her open her further.

“Oh god, oh god, ohmygod,” she blabbered into her hands, her legs shaking with the strain to close but failing against his hold.

“I like it when ya fight me,” he drawled, scraping his beard against her inner thigh. Hot breath against her folds as he pressed her legs open to almost a painful degree. “But ‘m gonna take what I want.”

She felt his tongue curl and enter her, dismissive of her muffled wails in response. He hummed with pleasure, dipping his tongue in and out, then lapping at her like a dog. Muffled cries of gibberish as she felt a finger go in and his lips latch on her again. The finger started to pump, slow and steady while he suckled her bud and she shuddered in ecstasy, her control fraying and her embarrassment forgotten. Finally, another swirl of his tongue against her entrance and Her hips started to sway against him on their own accord as she lost the fight, giving in to the burning pleasure. He moaned his approval and softened his bruising grip, hands moving a leg over his shoulder, caressing it to encourage her as she let go of her inhibitions and rocked against his finger.

Just when she thought it possibly couldn’t feel any better, suddenly the finger curled expertly to touch her sensitive spot and her spine snapped off the bed like a bow.

She couldn’t form words anymore, stuttering broken syllables instead, hands pressing harder against her mouth, teeth lodged on her lower lip as she was rapidly approaching a terrifying peak.

The finger curled again and his lips closed on her bud and next thing she knew, she saw stars.

Her eyes fluttered close as she her back rose off the mattress and her body convulsed with the force of her orgasm. He gave her tender licks as she rode through it, a flame blooming through her in the aftermath of the lightning strike. It felt like minutes but could only be moments when she collapsed back on the bed, light headed and breathless. Her muffled wails died off as she distantly felt him withdraw and shift to sit up, large hands tenderly massaging her legs, moving up her stomach, cupping her breasts, then removing her hands still plastered on her face. He brushed his thumb against her split lip as she panted breathlessly before he kissed her, slow and careful, lapping at the cut she had inflicted on herself.

“I ain’t done with you yet,” he murmured against her lips, “don’ move.”

Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton and it took her a moment to register his meaning. He ignored her protestations as she felt him move off the bed and heard the rustling of his undressing before she felt the mattress dip again. She yelped in surprise as he flipped her on her stomach and made an attempt to crawl away. “Too much,” she croaked, bewildered that he was serious. He snickered and bunched her ankles together to jerk her back. A moment later her buttocks were pulled up as he settled behind her and she felt the swollen head of his cock against her entrance.

“Should ‘ave let me sleep, little bird,” he said roughly. Her hands grasped the covers in helpless preparation and she moaned, her cheek on the bed, still dazed from her orgasm as he sheathed himself completely. Then he pushed on her lower back to flatten her and crawled to lie on top of her, placing his elbows on both sides of her head. When he started to move, she gasped at the unfamiliar sensation. He was reaching so deep in her, she hadn’t even known it was possible.

He was panting above her, perched on his elbows as he rocked into her slow and deliberate, filling her and stretching her and grunting with the pleasure of it. His skin, slightly sticky with sweat was flush against hers, she felt the soft brush of his chest hair on her back. Her eyes fluttered open with disbelief when she felt her pleasure rise again. Her legs attempted to part reflexively but she was wedged between his strong thighs, locked into her position, unable to move.

“Oh…” she gasped, startled, then again “oh…that feels…oh…”, bewildered by how the embers in her core started to flare up again while she was still in the thrall of her pleasure from merely minutes ago. She craned up her neck, rising on her forearms and mewled, fingers tangling the sheets. His hot breath on her ear as his hips languidly pushed her into the bed, his cock touching spots in her she didn’t know could be touched. Her feet started tapping on the mattress as she whined with the pleasure, squirming to open herself further for him but he ignored her, clamping her legs shut with his thighs, continuing to rock into her.

“Not so…chatty…now…are we?” he growled into her ear before he suckled her earlobe.

“Oh god,” she shuddered, trying to push her hip up to meet him.

“Like that?” he hummed as he gently bit her neck. He chuckled darkly when she squirmed helplessly against him. She felt him grow harder in her with the excitement of her struggle. “You like it when I take ya like this?” He bucked into her sharply and pushed in so deep, her eyes rolled back in her head.

Her head dropped back on the bed as he left wet kisses on her shoulder, rocking into her with relentless precision, piercing her, parting her with every stroke. Her hands twisted the sheets tighter and she buried her face into the mattress to muffle her moans. Her legs trembled and straightened, toes curling with ecstasy. He groaned with the increased tightness, moving faster as his restrain started to falter. He whispered a curse under his breath and then her name, like a sigh, and she knew he was close. But she was closer still. One of her hands found his and clasped his wrist with desperation and before she knew it, her second orgasm was on her, and while the first one had been steep and sharp, this one was deeper and and softer and she let it wash over her, her shudder of sobs muted by the mattress.

Her entire body clenched up and went rigid as a board as she came and he growled as she clamped around him. She heard his gasps above her as he spent himself, his hips stuttering.

She melted into the mattress, muscles soft and pliable like rubber and he collapsed to lie beside her, panting into her hair. Her mind was in a fog, her body a separate thing from her, utterly depleted. Minutes passed as she listened to his breathing and the soft calls of the night, felt her sweat cool off in the warm summer breeze. Her limbs grew heavy and she felt herself drift into a state of lucid slumber, then woke up again when he settled behind her. His big hand on her lower back, caressing up to her shoulders, then down over her buttocks.

“Be honest,” she mumbled when she could form words again, struggling to speak in her exhaustion. “Why’d you move your tent out this far?”

He chuckled, still a little short of breath, his hand drawing tantalizing ellipsis on her back. “Our tent,” he corrected. And then: “Cause ya wail like a banshee.”

She groaned. He laughed, easy and relaxed, and slid closer.

“Think I’m dying,” she whispered, her nerves strumming like strings.

He placed his hand on her ribs and pulled to turn her over on her back. He perched up on his elbow, looking down at her, brushing her wild hair from her face.

“You look fine t’me,” he whispered, his thumb gently tracing her swollen lower lip again. His fingers glided down her neck, under the swell of a breast, over her stomach.

He lied down facing her, hand splayed on her stomach, thumb drawing circles. It felt strange that they didn’t have to worry about getting dressed, straightening their attire, brushing leaves and twigs off each other’s hair and heading out. That they could just lie here together until morning or even later if they wanted to.

“We will wake up together,” she drawled a long while later, still unable to wrap her head around it. She hadn't woken up next to someone in years and couldn’t remember what it felt like.

“Depends,” he sighed.

“On what?”

“If ya snore, ‘m leaving.”

“You said you didn’t mind,” she laughed quietly.

“I lied,” was the easy retort. “To make you stay.”

She chortled. Minutes later she was falling asleep again when he shifted away to lie on his back, retrieving his hand. She turned to her side to face him and scooted closer. He was very still, his breathing soft and deep and for a moment she was anxious about it, nervous that it would backfire and wound her in the process. But her curiosity won out and she inched closer still until she was lightly pressed against his side. Any moment now he’ll pull away or he’ll turn his back, she thought and waited in anticipation. A long time passed and he didn’t move at all as she felt herself grow heavy with sleep again. Just before she drifted off, she distantly felt his arm shift and curl around her back to anchor her against him.

#arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan fluff #arthur morgan smut #low honor arthur morgan #mid honor arthur morgan #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #fanfic #fluff #smut

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helltownohiohq · 6 months ago

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄 — 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦

𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚗𝚑𝚚𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝

you've sat with this text, this private invitation, for the last . . . however many days its been. time seems to pass by differently in 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐧, 𝐎𝐡𝐢𝐨. days feel like weeks, but weeks feel like seconds; as per usual, nothing makes sense. something always feels off. even the wind, as it floats down the dirt-ridden streets filled with cracks in the asphalt, seems to hum with something sinister. you could be standing outside in the blooming summer heat and the breeze alone would send chills down your spine like you were being bitten by jack frost himself.

do you go ?? you've heard whispers, talked to your peers. . . for a private invitation, it sure sounds like everyone was invited. minus a select few but, you know more people with invitations than people you don't.

so, JUNE 20th arrives . . . and per the texts instructions, you find your way down the winding path in the woods. maybe there are others amongst you, walking ahead or behind, and the leaves seem to be whispering above you all as the sun bleeds through outstretched branches. . . the summer solstice appears to be in full effect as you move down the path.

you see the bonfire in the distance, roaring with life, and you hear . . .laughter. it isn't a sinister kind of laughter though, it sounds joyful. given the circumstances, maybe the joyful laughter is more horrifying than the alternative but, you see residents scattered around an open area in the wood and think hey . . . maybe this isn't so bad. maybe this is just a bonfire to kick off the summer and nothing more than that.

there's a make shift bar to the right of the fire, a fold up table littered with liquor bottles and a keg perched on a stump beside it. the woman running it is wearing a mask, one that seems to resemble a deer with two faces. you look around and notice that . . . everyone working the festival is wearing similar masks. some even have necklaces that look like they were made of animal bones.

those were animal bones, right ??

there's a huge buffet, filled with homemade goodies, fresh fruit ( this is some rundown rural town in ohio, where did they get fresh fruit from ?? ), turkey legs, and other enticing looking treats. no brand names to be seen so, all of it must have been made from scratch.

music fills the woods, played from a trio of musicians stationed just behind the fire, and its music unlike any you've ever heard before. the roaring bonfire sits in the middle of it all, stretching so tall it has to be the tallest attendee here. its flames swirl and flicker, but it shows no sign of dying as more masked festival-runners keep it well fed with oak and kindling. there's axe throwing, flower crown making stations, dancing, and the sound of nature stirring surrounding it all. every time you pass one of the festival goers they nod to you; " happy solstice " they say, " may they bless your summer and all of your days."

it almost feels like you've been transported back in time. back to when things where simpler, where merriment came from the little things, and for a moment. . . maybe. . . you feel peace. or maybe all of this fills you with an overwhelming sense of dread.

all you know for sure is that you're here, and you might as well make the most of it, right ??

how bad could it truly be ??

𝐨𝐨𝐜 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

this is PART ONE of a two part event !!

whilst the event is in two parts starting on june 1st, both parts of the event are taking place on ONE in-character date; june 20th. the events of part one are going to take place from 4:50pm when the festival starts until 8:16pm. all times are in EST.

the vibe ?? think farmers market meets modern renaissance-ish. also, please make sure you ask box is open :)

part one will go from june 1st-june 20th !! please reach out to the main if you have any questions. we are posting this a day early so you can get your thinking juices flowin and start plottin should you wish to.

please tag all event threads #helltownsolstice1 so we can read!!!

#helltownhqevent #helltownsolstice1

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safyresky · 28 days ago

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You read that meme right, folks!

I made the mistake of rereading Meet The Frosts the other day, realized HOW OUT OF DATE THE PROLOGUE LORE WAS, and promptly rewrote it.

You can check THAT out on ao3 HERE

(NOT on ff dot net yet bc ya girl hasn't edited it to match lol)

OR below the cut, IN FULL! THAT'S RIGHT! I'M POSTING IT HERE, IN FULL!!! FOR EASY, QUICK REF.

ENJOY!

🌹👑✨🌺

It wasn't every day Mother Nature felt stressed beyond belief.

Sure, what she did was stressful. She was, after all, the matriarch of all nature, and keeping the balance of all of nature wasn't the easiest thing to do. That in itself was a lot more complex than it sounded.

Thankfully, she didn't have to do it all by herself! She had help: her four lovely daughters, the Season Sisters.

They managed themselves quite well, inter-seasonal squabbles aside. They were the seasons, after all. Their help meant the world to Mother Nature; they meant the world to her. And they loved what they did, which made Mother Nature's own workload a lot easier (and a lot of fun, to boot).

She still chipped in, of course. After all, she was Mother Nature. She loved field work!

Unfortunately for her, there were other balance-related issues she took care of as well. And with the seasons taking care of themselves, this left her with a lot more time to take care of the multitude of said issues that arose throughout the world. Issues which seemed to be growing exponentially as the years passed by.

She did what she could, of course (though a lot of the work was long term and not as instantaneous as she'd like). She'd set things in motion, monitor them, and intervene when she could, and hope for the best as she worked what she often jokingly referred to as her second job: advisor to the entirety of the magical land of Crystal Springs.

Hidden away from the prying eyes of mortals and those who would mean harm to the magical beings that inhabited it, Crystal Springs was a bastion to all magical folk from all wakes of life. Named for the healing springs at the centre of the continent, it was located out in the Arctic Sea, just west-ish of the North Pole. A good majority of your average magical folk chose to make their home there, Mother Nature included. Here they lived peacefully, hidden from mortals and looked over by Mother Nature herself.

There was a governing body, of course; made up of five governors and eight lieutenants. And they looked after their designated locales well enough. But upon their founding they'd given Mother Nature a seat on what they called the Assembly, and more often than not turned to her for reassurance, final decisions, and so on and so forth. She had power of veto and the power to appoint the governors themselves. Being omnipotent did that to a gal, she supposed. And given the duty passed on to her by her predecessor, who was given her duty by the Goddess herself, well.

Mother Nature considered all of the magibeans her people, and made sure to look after them all, on top of all her other responsibilities.

And she did it damn well.

She had a system; she had balance. Nothing was ever out of place and when it was, she and the Seasons made sure to right them as swiftly as possible.

What nobody had expected when Mother Nature's system came into being was the mischief one Jack Frost tended to cause.

A lot more frequently than anyone would expect.

Mother Nature shook her head as she left the warmth of the North Pole's kitchen. She wondered if the Council as a whole had done the right thing after Jack's latest schemes. Him staying at the North Pole for community service was definitely concerning. He was…incredibly jealous of Santa, and that was putting it mildly.

But since it was Santa that Jack had tried to upstage two-hundred and seventy three times, it was Santa's final decision, whatever action the Council chose to take against Council Member Jack Frost.

And he had chosen community service of all things.

And they had agreed to it!

And NOW she had to put all of her regular duties aside to gather two-hundred and seventy cardboard cutouts, unfreeze a volcano, send geese back to Mexico (after she warmed it up a bit first, of course), AND deal with a SNOWSTORM in the AMAZON of all places. All while her worry about Jack's sentence sizzled on the back burner!

Needless to say, it was fairly easy for her to understand how Santa was feeling this year.

"Seems you have your work cut out for you today, Mother Nature."

"Tell me about it. A tropical snowstorm! Who on Earth would ever imagine a tropical snowstorm?!"

"Evidently, Jack." Father Time cocked his head. "He's always been quite the imaginative one."

Mother Nature tried to smile. But she found it very hard to do so when the weight of the entire mess she had to clean up hit her.

Her face twitched. She didn't know where, exactly, but there was a twitch. She could feel it.

"A wise woman once told me that even Legendary Figures need to ask for help once and a while," Father Time said, tapping the side of his nose. "Perhaps now is a good time for her to take her own advice?"

"Oh, she is already thinking that exact thing. Some help would most definitely be in order."

She could ask Summer to give her a hand warming things up. Spring could talk to the geese, and Winter could move the snowstorm…of course, considering whose fault this entire mess was, perhaps it was better if she left the two warmer seasons out of this mess. Or maybe kept the coldest season in the dark? Autumn could take care of the frosty problems and Mother Nature could move the snowstorm herself...

No, no. Spring would tell her eventually if she didn't find out on her own. Or already knew, even.

Mother Nature sighed as she realized her only option.

"I'll have to go visit the Frosts."

Father Time smiled. "I assume Winter is in a talkative mood. Your visit will be about two hours and forty-four minutes. Would you like the seconds?"

"Oh, no need. I know you're always on the ball, Father Time."

The old man chuckled. "All the luck," he said with a wink, eyes twinkling as he faded into the folds of time, vanishing on the spot as silently as he had appeared by her side moments before.

"Thanks. I'm going to need it."

It wasn't long after that that she reached the outside of the Workshop. Glancing around to make sure there weren't too many elves in her area of effect, she disappeared in a flash of bright light. The snowy grounds and cheery far-off elves faded away, the tiny, colourful buildings blurring together and shifting into a gorgeous, low lit forest.

The trees around her were dense. Sunlight streamed through the branches, the ground dappled with little pinpricks of light. The trees in front of her shrouded a glowing lilac portal, the light from it casting them in a purple glow.

The entrance to the large physics-defying garden she called home in Crystal Springs.

She needed a moment.

Rubbing her temples, she stepped through the portal and into a sunny clearing. Several stone paths spiralled out around her, foliage of all sorts bordering each one. Folding her hands gently in front of her, she surveyed the paths.

Between the work to be done and what had been done and the past that was threatening to have her dwelling for the next hour, she could feel a tension headache fast approaching.

A walk around the garden was just what she needed.

A moment to ground herself; to get her thoughts in order, let the dwelling happen (if it must), and prepare her before she brought Jack's mother, and perhaps the rest of the family as well, into the mess he had made.

🌹👑✨🌺

Mother Nature was not a procrastinator.

It wasn't in her nature. And it wasn't that she didn't enjoy seeing Winter and her family; quite the contrary. Visiting Frost Manor was always a delight.

It wasn't the Frosts themselves that caused Mother Nature to go for a stroll in her numerous gardens. Or nearly follow the stroll with a thoughtful soak in the river that ran through her garden. That wasn't the reason she was putting off her visit.

It was the dwelling.

It had started.

And Mother Nature found herself going down the age old rabbit hole she found herself constantly going down every time she went to go visit Winter to talk about whatever it was Jack had done this time.

Sighing, she turned away from the sparkling river and headed to her greenhouse kitchen, deep in thought.

The greenhouse was large and spacious. Sunlight streamed through the windows, plants growing amongst her counters and cabinets. Spanish moss hung from the cold box, the warmth hugging her as she put on a cup of tea. She wandered outside with her cup, sitting down at her favourite bistro table on the patio alongside the greenhouse.

She loved visiting Winter. She loved seeing the life she had built for herself. She loved visiting her grandkids, and loved seeing her son-in-law outside of the workplace. It was always a treat. The Frosts were a vibrant, eccentric bunch, always on the go with something or other and more than happy to chat at length about it—the youngest two, especially.

And she hated hated hated having to visit to deliver bad news. It always made her think of the messy history that led to the season’s estrangement with her eldest child and how it just wasn’t fair. Everything that had happened wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t even her fault!

But Fate was rarely fair.

And unlike the other Fates, their Fate loved to intervene.

See, Mother Nature’s dwelling usually went like so:

She would think about how awful it was that she had to deliver this type of news to the Frosts. Then she would think about the day Jack had left. The events leading up to it. And somehow she’d find herself drifting even farther back, thinking of the events that had led to Winter and Blaise finally being free to settle down and start a family together.

She’d think of the War of Succession. The Call. The Fae War. She’d find herself going so far as to think of a time before even herself! Way back when Mother Gaia roamed the Earth, well before she had created Mother Nature!

It was said that way back then, millennia ago, there was a time when magic roamed wild throughout the world. The era of Wild Magic. Ancient history to the magibeans.

And it was where Mother Nature’s dwelling often began.

It had been peaceful, the Wild Magic Era. Until the ordinary beings (non-magical folk) started taking advantage of the magical folk. Coveting the magic they used. Trying to steal it, wield it, deal it, even. It got violent. Magibeans were getting hurt. Killed.

Until Gaia stepped in.

She had been sent by the mythical creator of the mythical beings: the Goddess herself. The Goddess had a place for them, Gaia said. A place where they’d be safe from the magic hunters, free to live; to thrive. And she intended to bring everyone to the Springs.

A large undertaking, for sure. But to her surprise, she had help.

Two bright young summer sprites, one a master of his season, the other a brilliant warlock, both well known to magibeings and ordibeings alike, had already begun gathering their fellow magibeans and bringing them to safety throughout the world.

When Gaia reached the magibeans with news of the Springs, the two of them had stepped up to bat before the bat was even invented and took charge. They helped lead hundreds of magibeans to Crystal Springs, under Gaia’s watchful eye and careful guidance. And thanks to their efforts, everyone was brought safely and securely to the Springs, magibeans completely non-existent now in the outer world.

They established their settlements. The bright young summer sprites, Canicus and Serafina, continued leading, helping everyone settle where best suited, and giving those that had helped them help everyone small groups of their own to look after, establishing various hamlets, towns, and outposts throughout the new lands. So when the time came to figure out who would lead them all as a unit (Gaia had declined the position herself before it was even brought up), it was a no brainer: Canicus and Serafina would be ideal. They’d already been doing it for a good few decades, right? May as well make it official.

The pair of sprites themselves quite agreed. So much so that they married, securing their position with one another and choosing a name for themselves as one: Frost.

And so, King and Queen Frost began their official rule over Crystal Springs. A rule that did not let up for thousands upon thousands of years. The people looked to them, and they took care of the people. They kept everyone safe, by any means necessary, and Gaia was more than happy (and quite relieved) to slow down and live her life.

She’d created a protégé, you see: Tara, a sprite like herself who, thousands of years later sat in their Garden, sipping tea, thinking all the way back to those very beginnings and how Mother Gaia had laughed at the irony of the name choice.

It suits them, though, she had told a very young Mother Nature. It’s versatile, you know. Frost is beautiful…but it’s cold. And it can be deadly.

She said many funny little things. Wise things, too. Gaia had taught Tara everything she knew and once the sprite had achieved mastery of all nature, it was time for the second part of her education: diplomacy.

Why, it was on the occasion of her first official test that Gaia had turned to her and said, it’s best we don’t dawdle, Tara dear. Procrastination isn’t in our nature, you know.

And yet here she sat, doing just that.

But on that day, they’d been summoned urgently by the monarchs because something had happened. Something severe enough to warrant an out of breath messenger to tumble through the garden and topple in front of the stone dining table, catching their breath and holding a note out to the pair of them in the middle of their dinner.

The Queen, expecting, had delivered twins.

That had been a surprise for them all.

Queen Serafina was a brilliant warlock. She was well versed in all the magical ways: new, old, lost. She could go toe to toe with the best of the best—witches, wizards, sorcerers, and fellow warlocks alike would know nothing compared to the wealth of knowledge she possessed. She was put together, and strong, and regal, and everything a queen ought to be, or so everyone said.

But when Gaia and Tara arrived that night, she was distraught. She was angry. She was a mess (childbirth and all). Canicus didn’t even get to finish his greeting when Serafina looked up at them and told them with the utmost certainty and conviction and an undercurrent of fury that she knew exactly what had happened to make her boys be just that. Her boys, plural.

Upon her marriage to Canicus, Serafina had happily left behind a jilted paramour: Fate himself.

He had been young, at the time. The youngest of all the Fates. And when Serafina had spurned him, he watched and waited and planned the perfect revenge: split the heir apparent into the heirs apparent, amongst much confusion so as to ensure that the heir apparent wouldn’t be apparent at all.

Unfortunately for Fate, King Canicus was just as bright as his Queen.

Upon seeing two boys amongst the confused medical staff he’d immediately sent for Mother Gaia, who had brought Tara along as well.

Her first official task: help the King and Queen figure out which Prince would be next in line.

No pressure for a first challenge, right?

Mother Nature took a sip of her tea, taking a moment to cradle the hot cup close to her face, letting the steam waft, tickling her pores. Just ride it out, Tara, she thought to herself. Get through the past and back to the present and then we can figure everything out.

The twins were passed over to Tara and Gaia. Sure enough, they were similar in almost every single way.

Almost.

What Tara and Gaia both picked up on after a few careful moments of scrutinization was the hair: one boy had slightly darker hair than the other one.

Relieved, the Queen named the dark-haired boy Pyros and the light-haired boy Blaise and immediately began to discuss with Canicus what would be done in terms of succession, requesting the Matriarchs of Nature stay put for the proceedings. Tara had stood dutifully beside Gaia, watching as the medical staff cleaned Serafina up, the woman nursing her boys with ease while talking business with her partner.

(It had honestly been a little impressive. The woman had just given birth to TWO babies and was already right back at her royal duties).

Many ideas were floated back and forth. Some tame, some intense. Finally, the King and Queen turned to the Matriarchs and looked at them expectantly. Well? Serafina had demanded. What do you make of it all?

And Tara had no idea why she said what she said. She didn’t think; she simply opened her mouth and the words came out, unbidden, Gaia lighting up.

Let nature take its course.

That’s my girl, Gaia had said in her head as Canicus straightened and said The bloody hell do you mean by THAT!?

Let nature take its course, she had repeated. Raise them alongside one another; don’t pick one over the other just yet. Let them grow. See who they become. One will want to rule, and the other won’t. Watch them grow and learn and become the people they were meant to be and let their nature guide you.

The King and Queen had shared a look. Canicus raised an eyebrow; Serafina nodded.

Very well.

As you wish.

And so nothing silly happened. The boys grew up together as the Twin Princes, getting along just fine and seemingly both eager to learn and grow. And as they grew and learnt and became the people they were, it was apparent that what Tara had said was just about right.

Blaise, the light haired twin, didn’t seem keen on taking the crown. And Pyros, the dark-haired twin, did. And that was all fine and good except for one tiny itty bitty problem.

See, Blaise had all the makings of a ruler. Charismatic, caring, thoughtful, if a little bit troublesome at times. Pyros, meanwhile, was the exact opposite. Thoughtful of himself and those closest to him only; keen on power, seeing how far he could go, and eschewing any and all possibilities of interacting with their people, preferring to do his duties as independently as possible. Charismatic as well, but more often than not using it for his own gain amongst fellow castors and those he took a fancy too.

So although the nature of what they wanted differed from their personal nature, Mother Nature had been right. The boys came of age, and the time came for the decision to be made.

And the King and Queen did no such thing.

They put it off, and off, and off. They tried all sorts of things to test the pair of them, seeing who would be the best fit, and never agreeing on which boy it would be. One day Serafina would say Pyros; Canicus would say Blaise. The next, Canicus would say Pyros, and Serafina would say Blaise. On and on it went, the two boys never doing well enough in both the eyes of the King and Queen. The desires of the monarchs to keep the power blinded them to any obvious solutions.

Time passed. The thirst both boys had, one for freedom, and one for power grew and grew until finally, enough was enough. It was time someone put their foot down and made a decision.

And that's just what Pyros did.

He wanted the crown. Demanded it, even. Felt he was more deserving with all the time he’d devoted to learning everything there was to learn about power. He hadn’t quit his studies. Blaise had. Who was more deserving than he, Pyros? Obviously, he was meant to rule; not Blaise, the quitter, the twin that (suddenly in his eyes) should not have been. His conquest began that first night, when he sieged and seized the castle. The King and Queen disappeared to Rosehaven; whether or not they had done it themselves, or Pyros had made them, nobody knew. Not even Blaise, who somehow managed to escape mostly unscathed with as many as the castle staff and tenants as he could that hadn’t been swayed by the likes of Pyros.

And so the War of Succession began.

The trigger moment, if you will, and in her dwelling Mother Nature most certainly would. It was very much where it all began.

Forces were amassed; fortifications made, Blaise directing armies to keep the people safe while he tried desperately to reason with the brother he was oh-so-fond of.

But it didn’t work. Nothing did. Blaise was forced to fight as Pyros made moves to take the entire continent by force, refusing peace talks of any sort, and so he did what he needed to do. The fighting raged on, Blaise gaining ground until Pyros decided to outsource, if you will, culminating in them once again being revealed to the world.

Mortals joined the ranks of Pyros’s armies, wanting power, a taste of magic for themselves. And Pyros promised them that. So his armies grew, and people—both magibeans and ordibeings alike—were taken prisoner.

But magihumans didn’t like that very much, and they joined Blaise’s ranks, and everything came to a stalemate until Pyros did the unthinkable in a last ditch effort to turn the tides fully his way and win.

He took prisoners. Prisoners near and dear to those who opposed him.

Including Mother Nature’s very own children.

She had been furious.

She still was. Just thinking about it made her tea boil all over again! Refreshing her cup with a huff, she took a moment to ground herself. To feel angry about it all once again. To remember how she’d enlisted the help of the Grand Witches, the Head Warlock, the Sorcerers—every high ranking castor who was willing to help.

But Pyros was powerful enough to rival the Head Castors just by himself.

Each time they infiltrated, they were able to grab one season. Each time they came back, it got harder and harder to extract them.

Finally, when they went back the fourth time, they were defeated. Though Mother Nature had saved Spring, Summer, and Autumn, Winter was trapped.

Her sisters were beside themselves. They explained how every time Mother Nature and her forces had arrived, Winter made them go before her. And when the Head Castors finally had a gameplan, they learnt it would take days for them to overcome the magics in place and rescue Winter (and hopefully the other hostages, as well).

And that’s when Blaise had arrived in the Garden.

She felt the anger ebb away, finally leaving her. Taking a steadying breath, she sat back down, holding the warm cup tightly in her hands, watching as her reflection in the tea smiled softly.

Blaise had come to them with a plan.

He had infiltrated his brother's fortress, and had been planting his own men inside of the stronghold for the longest time now. He would be able to bring Winter back easily, no magic necessary.

And he had.

All her Seasons home with her, Mother Nature was able to fully give Blaise her attention and support. And it was a good thing, too, because Blaise had a secret weapon: The Kringle Elves.

All the elves had kept to themselves right up until the Seasons were kidnapped. That's when they had had enough. Wanting to rule was one thing, but wanting to upset the balance and rule over nature itself? To stop the seasons from doing their thing? That’s where they had drawn the line. They’d made an alliance amongst themselves, sending their forces out into the world to keep balance as best as they can while the Kringle Elves stayed put. They reached out to Blaise. An alliance was made, and the united forces put together plans for a large attack. It was ready to go. All they needed was the support of the castors, Mother Nature, and her Seasons.

All of which who readily agreed.

The final piece in place, they were ready. Blaise worked with the leader of the Kringles to figure out the best approach for the final attack, and Winter had come up with the perfect idea to put a stop to Pyros once and for all.

They both had, actually! Accidentally. During a botched escape.

Of course, Mother Nature had thought, as the pair of them looked up at her, war torn and jaded and yet, still sheepish and so very, very young.

But it would work! They assured. The botched escape had paid off.

Then let's put an end to this nonsense, Mother Nature had said.

With Blaise's forces on the inside and outside of Pyros' base, they took the victory easily. With help from the Seasons, Pyros was cornered; Winter herself froze him in his tracks and Blaise solidified it, the Mad Prince sealed away and peace once again coming to the land.

Crystal Springs was cloaked once more. Ordibeings were fixed up and sent home. Magihumans were integrated and welcomed to the Springs. Pyros was sealed away by a group of the finest castors in all the lands, and the issue of succession was finally put to rest.

The crown would go to Blaise.

Blaise took it graciously and decided that his first and only act as King would be to abolish the monarchy, full stop.

And so he did. And with Mother Nature’s help, plans were put into motion to free the magibeans. They could come and go as they please; they would always be welcome back at home, but not forced to stay there for their own safety. Every single royal law would be read through and adjusted, fixed, or withdrawn as needed. New lines were drawn and each area was given a leading body of their own, with a governor to oversee everything and bring it back to the rest of what became known as the Assembly.

Work started almost right after the final battle. In a year, a plan had been made for the next hundred years, after which they’d refresh the Assembly and keep on keeping on.

But at home, it took all of them a lot longer to recover.

After the battle, Winter had not been herself. It took Mother Nature a few days before it clicked. The experience of the War and becoming a prisoner had done a number to the sprite. She had frozen her heart. She was still pleasant as always, kind and caring…but in an aloof, sad kind of way. She would not open her heart to anyone.

Except for Blaise.

She had thawed his heart; and in turn, he worked to thaw hers.

They were smitten with one another. Always had been. They made one another happy, and though it came up as she dwelled, Mother Nature would never say that this part of the story wasn’t fair. It was perhaps the fairest part of all. Both Blaise and Winter had been through so much, they deserved to find love with one another and be with one another and that’s exactly what happened. The night Blaise proposed, Winter thawed for the second time in her life, and they got married that very evening. Mother Nature had officiated! And it wasn’t very long after that that they had their first child: Jack.

And that's when everything went downhill.

🌹👑✨🌺

Well, not exactly.

Mother Nature rubbed her temples, refreshing her tea for the umpteenth time.

Her stomach was in knots. The dwelling persisted. Rain pounded on the glass of the greenhouse, thunder rolling somewhere in the garden. The plants swayed in the wind, the trees around her bending and creaking as she grabbed a cookie from the half-empty plate on the counter (a handwritten note on the plate reading xoxo Autumn and stained with grease). The snickerdoodle was still soft in the middle, fresh as they had been when they were made yesterday.

You would think, that after EVERYTHING they had been through, Blaise and Winter would’ve been able to just live their happily ever after with their brand new addition. You’d THINK. But NO. Of COURSE not. It should BE so easy.

When he had finally passed through babyhood and managed to stabilize his little form, Jack was a very bright child. He was very quick to learn and eager to expand his horizons.

But there was something…off.

It had been there since the moment he was born, and it didn’t take Mother Nature long to realize just what it was. Like his mother before him, Jack was frozen. Born as such, it seemed.

But that’s not usually how that happened. Ever.

Sprites weren’t born OR formed with hardened hearts. It was something they actively chose to do as they came into being. The reasons varied from sprite to sprite, of course. But one thing was certain: when sprites were born they were as uninhibited as the elements that powered them and that they, in turn, wielded.

Except for Jack.

He had honest to Goddess been born as frozen as could be, and to a far greater extent than Mother Nature had ever seen.

Nothing was ever enough for him. He always wanted more, and more, and more, and that more never seemed to have a limit. A goal. A stop. And end. It was constant avarice, all the time, and it was exhausting.

He was studious; learned as much as he could. So much so that when he had mastered his season, it was said that he’d broken right into the afterlife to continue to learn from the long gone magibeans residing there. As he grew into his thousands, a consistent streak of trouble was never far behind him. It seemed he was simply incapable of not causing trouble wherever he went, always trying to do more, be more, and having it immediately backfire on him. Disagreements became more and more frequent between him and his parents; between them as well, Mother Nature noted on occasion.

Sighing, she leaned on the counter, watching the rain through the windows of the greenhouse kitchen. It was like there was some kind of unbeknownst evil driving him. A strong word to use, but apt. He’d shift the scales of balance quite frequently misusing his seasonal prowess, usually on purpose. He established himself throughout the continent, then throughout the world, earning himself a mythic status and a seat on the Council of Legendary Figures.

But it still wasn’t enough.

And then shortly after he got his seat, a new guy came to town: Santa Claus.

Jack had only been in his seat for a few centuries when Kris Kringle made his deal with Saint Nicholas, and the role of Santa Claus was created to spread wonder throughout the world. It was enough to give him a seat on the Council, too, and Jack Did Not Like That and made it known. Outspoken at meetings. Trouble increasing tenfold. He seemed to be getting worse and worse, and it wasn’t until Blaise and Winter had a second child that Jack's misbehaviour came to a rolling stop.

He had just reached his two-thousands. He had the world at his feet, a Legendary Title, renown in the outside world, and did not expect to have a sibling, ever, at all.

But a sibling he got. A cute little baby sister who looked as wintry as him. She, too, was a winter sprite, much to Winter’s delight (Blaise’s too—he’d had a grand old century making the same terrible jokes about being the only summer sprite in the family so far, but was pleased as punch anyway). A fan of matching sets, Winter named her Jacqueline (Jack having a grand old century making the same well obviously you named her after moi jokes), and once she was done with babyhood and had stabilized her little form, she was never very far from her older brother.

She had been a delightful little child, and the pair were practically attached at the hip. As the years went by, somehow he’d managed to be put in charge of her spritely education. Surprisingly enough, he took to it with ease, teaching her everything he knew and then some.

In fact, Mother Nature was quite convinced that had it not been for what happened with the darkness, Jack and Jacqueline would’ve continued on this way and his frosty heart would, perhaps, have thawed eventually. How could it not with such a relentless force of joy constantly at his side? That would’ve been fair and well deserved. Jack deserved to feel the full effects of his hard work, instead of constantly wanting more. Jacqueline would’ve gotten all of the older brother she so adored.

But of course, that’s not what happened.

The rain slowed to a gentle pitter patter. It thickened; it floated softly to the ground now, shifting into snow.

The…incident with the darkness had the Council create the role of Legate within their ranks. Someone to take over their titles and continue to protect the magic each one of them was in charge of should something happen to the original. It only made sense that when this Legate Law was passed, Jack picked his then four-hundred-year-old sister to take his title should something happen to him.

Every single one of them had a Legate, with the exception of Santa. The pact between Kris and Nicholas meant that Santa’s role already had a successor ensured, excluding him from the Legate proceedings.

This only served to remind Jack of all the things he’d disliked about Santa before his sister was born. It didn't matter that Jack had a season to himself, or that he was one of the most powerful Legendaries on the Council.

It wasn't enough.

That Santa Claus had chosen Jack's season, Jack's time to shine, for his holiday and had all but erased the reputation Jack had once known. Now when it snowed, it was Santa who everyone thought of first, Christmas over winter…and Jack never liked that. He liked it even less now, knowing that he was once again getting special treatment for being Santa Claus.

His little streak of trouble came back, and now, he had a target: Santa.

Outside, the snow fell faster. The pitter patter returned, small chunks of ice hitting the glass with little tinks. Things went from bad to worse and one night after a particularly nasty incident, Blaise confronted Jack.

Needless to say, it…didn’t go well.

Jack did not hold back. He let it all out. Elements were thrown. He hurt his father, and his mother, and nearly killed his little sister, and then left, never to see his parents or sister again.

Mother Nature couldn’t even begin to imagine how they must’ve all felt.

At least they had survived. Even Jacqueline. And given the extent of her wounds…it must’ve been dicey, in the week it took for the storm to dissipate enough for Winter to break through it and rush the little girl to the Springs.

The three of them had recovered. But it had been…hard.

And they weren't quite the same after it all.

Blaise was a little more tired. Looked a little more weighed down than he used to. Jacqueline was not as exuberant as she’d been before; she was always subduing herself, Mother Nature noticed. Trying to seem smaller and not as big of a presence as she used to be. And Winter…well.

The storm outside slowed. The snow shifted, back to a gentle, melancholy flurry.

Winter had frozen her heart again.

Mother Nature sighed. Placing her empty cup down gently in the sink, she stepped back outside. She lifted a hand, swirling it around her in the air. The snowflakes came towards her, fast as could be, the clouds following until a miniature little cloud of snow hovered over her palm, snowflakes drifting down and dusting her hand in a light layer of snow.

“Off you go, now. Go find a nice little suburb and do your thing.”

The mini snowstorm wrapped itself up into a tiny, little snowball as Mother Nature launched it. It soared away, already drawn to several suburbs that could use a good flurry. Mother Nature watched it go, tilting her face up and closing her eyes as the sun came back, the temperature warming up.

Things were different for the Frosts after everything went down.

They’d gotten back to their usual selves, of course. Nothing like a rambunctious teenager and two new summer sprites to get you back in the game. But there had always been something a little different and it simply wasn’t fair and THAT’S why she tried to avoid the business visits as MUCH as she could. She HATED visiting for Jack-related reasons. She’d much rather today be a regular run of the mill visit. A little catch-up, like yesterday’s coffee date with Autumn and tomorrow’s lunch date with Spring.

It simply wasn’t fair.

But then again, Fate never really was fair, was he?

“You got that right, Momma Nat.”

“Oh, for the love of—could you not do that? In my own home?”

Humourless laughter floated in on the breeze, the winds changing and getting colder. The laughter grew louder as a cloaked figure appeared on the seat across from the one she had vacated, the smoke surrounding him making it seem as though he flickered in and out of existence.

"Hey earth lady. You’re the one broadcasting your thoughts all over the place. I’m just doing my job.”

Mother Nature opened her eyes. “Which is what, remind me again? To annoy me? Mess with my family on purpose?”

He opened his hands in a sort of half shrug. “I unwind as I will, Nat. Have a seat! More tea? Fourth cup’s a charm!”

Mother Nature frowned, carelessly waving her hand. A stronger than necessary wind blew, the hood falling back to reveal milky grey eyes and tied back dark hair.

"What are you doing here? I have a lot to do."

“Really now? Huh.” He sat back in his chair, feigning surprise. “I never would’ve guessed. I thought it was tea time.”

Twirling his hand, Fate conjured a cup for himself. Throwing one leg over the other, he sipped it, smacking his lips and making a very big show of the whole thing.

“Mm. Delicious.”

Mother Nature could feel her face twitching again. She huffed, marching to the bistro table and sitting down directly across from him as strictly and regally as she could muster while trying her best to not show her very obvious annoyance. She glared, hard enough to freeze the table. Fate was one of the only immortals who really got on Mother Nature's nerves. He was so hard to be around!

“You are so easy to rile up, did you know that?” chuckling, he settled back into his chair, waving away the cup. “Taunting and teasing aside, I am here for a reason, you know.”

“Other than to bother me?”

“Believe it or not, yes! You go through this every time Frost does something, did you know that? The same train of thought each. And. Every. Time."

“I am aware. That’s very state-the-obvious of you. Where are the riddles? The rhymes?”

“Ah, I'm over them. Direct is best, or at least, that's my modus operandi these days. The other fates aren’t fans, either.”

“I wonder why. Something, something, directly interfering instead of watching and weaving and sniping and such?”

“What can I say? I’m hands in, not hands on. Besides, I’m not one single path. Fate is multiple paths, they can go anywhere and everywhere and what happens is up to you. Or at least, it should be. Miss me with that threads shit.”

“And I suppose, given the past, you’re an exception to that rule.”

“Yes.”

“Mm. That’s what I thought.”

“Snippy today, aren’t we? Pre El Niño?”

Mother Nature made a low sound in her throat.

“Right, crossed a line; bad joke. I get it! My bad.” He held up both hands in front of him, in a tiny show of surrender. “I'll get to it then."

"Please do."

"I am here today to tell you that you…are right.”

Mother Nature hummed happily.

“Yeah, yeah, enjoy it while you can, Earth Lady. Look, here’s the thing. Every time Frost does something that causes you to visit the family, you are fated to have the same train of thought and redirect it all to me. And unfortunately, you are right, Tara.” He shifted forward in his seat. “See, we all make mistakes in our youth and not all of us recognize that and come to terms with it. But some do.”

“Oh, and this suddenly includes you?”

“Yes.”

For once, Fate sounded earnest. He recrossed his legs, cloak drifting around them as he looked up and off into the distance.

“Hmm. Good to know.”

“You sound unconvinced.”

“Can you blame me?”

“Nah.”

Mother Nature was pleasantly surprised. She blinked, her posture relaxing as she watched the fate closely. He uncrossed his legs, waving his hand. The tea cup came back, steam still wafting off the top.

“Hmm. Good to know.”

“Things will be changing this year though, Earth Lady, and that's why I'm here." He leaned forward across the table, almost touching noses with Mother Nature. "In order to rectify everything, you need to go visit the Frosts. Yet you sit here dallying. I’d say, you know, tit, tit, Momma G would not approve, but! Given her “rush” over to the palace the night the Princes were born…well, I think we both know that’s not quite correct.”

“Their messenger interrupted our dinner, Fate. Gaia wasn’t about to go on the clock on an empty stomach, and nor would she want me to do the same.”

“No, I’m not complaining! I appreciated it! The two of ‘em were so annoyed.”

“Mostly at you.”

“Well, when you learn someone never actually loved you, you can do crazy things.” He let go of the teacup. It floated beside him in mid-air. “Anyway, that’s why I’m here right now! I did a…fair amount of crazy things. BUT. The threads have all lined up and led us here.” He tapped the table top with his index fingers, leaning forward. “See, I did the whole Fate-thread-watching-thing and I have great news.” He grinned, wiggling in his seat. “All the threads are leading up to have this whole thing wrapped up with a neat little bow, but it all rides on you going to visit your Frosts."

He leaned back again, the floating teacup making its way back to his outstretched hand as he took a big, undignified slurp.

“Well, lucky for you, I'm afraid tea time has been significantly ruined for me.” Mother Nature stood up, glaring at Fate. “I'll be more than happy to take my leave now. Don’t be here when I get back.”

Not waiting for a reply, Mother Nature popped off in a brighter than usual golden glow, ignoring Fate’s cackling as she faded away. He settled in, sipping his tea and enjoying the sights of the garden.

The singular thread he had followed here split.

He smiled, content. Good. Things were back on track now. Multiple possibilities, all making their way towards the same end goal: fixing the mess he had made thousands upon thousands of years before. The players in place. Their choices theirs. And all he'd had to do was antagonize Tara.

Easy-peasy.

He could only hope the rest of the pieces would fall into place as easily as this one had.

That's all any of them could do, really.

Finishing off his tea, Fate disappeared from his spot, the garden left in peace once more.

#dani writes #meet the frosts #crystal springs #cs posting #i think i'll keep it outta the tag for now lmao #i've been spamming up the category with all SORTS of crossposting huehuehue #cs lore #crystal springs lore #man. why are emoji line breaks so FUN lmao #bit of a random assortment but YOLO!#anyway. you know that line where b&w tell mn about the botched escape and they look so sheepish but hopeful but young and war torn?#it's doubly funny AND painful if you keep in mind that they were BOTH frozen at this point #so you just have this cool. cold. sad snowy woman and this fiery sooty haired man looking up at mn like SO IT DIDN'T GO ACCORDING TO PLAN #BUT TADA! WE GOT INFO! :D #they were like. late teens early twenties for the ding dang succession war yall #BABIES #i think about that a lot #anyway. enough tag rambling for me lol

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