#maybe ill go outside when is snow storming and just stand out there for a while

[125storejuice]

.

[trashmouth-richie]

𝐜𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐫

1.3k | just for fun since it’s blizzarding here rn

The wind blustered against the cracked windshield. Sending waves of sleet and snow against the van, hitting like gravel against the tin body. 

He silently curses himself for not getting the windshield fixed before winter came. A huffed breath drags from him, little puffs of frigid air in the cold interior of the van, as he attempts to blow warmth to his chilled to the bone fingers. Aching from the repetitive motions from work. 

Eddie’s life didn’t end up how he had planned. The rockstar gig was nothing more than that— a gig.  One show maybe two a month at the hideout, a small little escape into the world he once was determined to get to. 

But life had other plans for him. Things he never saw coming. 

The sharp right turn into Forest Hills was blanketed by thick drifts of snow, covering the usual pot holes. Still he avoided them anyway— the last thing he needed was a blown tire in this weather. 

Forecast called for  “1-3 inches” but what the stuck up weather man didn’t predict was the wind.  

The wind brought with it freezing temperatures, a high of barely four degrees. He called Wayne on his break, telling him he’d stop by after work and shovel his pickup out so he could make his shift tonight, but Wayne only grunted and told Eddie he was perfectly capable of doing it himself, just to get home safe. 

The ill maintained roads were horrible, his tires slid and skid anytime he tapped the brakes or eased on the gas pedal, making the usual ten minute drive home turn into twenty, then thirty. 

He was crabby, hungry and itching for a cigarette, but the gas stations were closed for the upcoming storm, leaving an itch in his jaw that drove him mad. 

Anything and everything that could go wrong in one day had. Equipment broke, most of the shift hadn’t shown up due to the storm causing him to work in place of two other jobs on top of his own. The lunch he brought was left in the van by mistake after hurrying to get punched in when his alarm hadn’t gone off. 

And now throwing the van in park he realized he never turned the lights off in his rushed attempt to make it to work on time. 

Punching the steering wheel he curses again, the light bill would be outrageous next month. 

The van door was stuck, probably frozen from the outside, and he shoved his shoulder into the frame to try to loosen it enough so he could get out. The wind hit him like a freight train, stealing his breath and pelting his face, chapping his cheeks red and ruddy. 

Rage filled his lungs as his sweat soaked bandana started to feel like a frozen sheet of ice on his head. Crunching his curls into icicles. 

The cold air seeped through his jeans, and he shivered when his boots sunk into the snow. Dropping his keys three separate times into the snow, Eddie yelled into the night. 

 And if he weren’t so mad he might have noticed a set of footprints leading from your trailer to his. 

He might have heard the radio buzzing about the incoming bad weather. 

He might have smelled a delicious slurry of cooked meat, beans and tomatoes boiling on the stove. 

The front door was frozen too, and when he finally jimmied the handle and flung the door open, he nearly burst into tears. 

The place is spotless. 

Ashtrays were emptied and sparkling like the countertops, the heap of clothes on top of his washer were folded and put away. A candle is lit on the table. You must have brought your own vacuum over because his hasn’t worked since the 70s. 

The small patch of linoleum under his feet was swept, his other pair of work boots and shoes were lined up neatly against the wall. A new rag thread utility rug was also underfoot. 

His eyes brimmed hot with tears at the sight of his clean house, and you, standing at the stove with a wooden spoon to your lips.

“Hi! Made a cobbler with that jar of peaches from Joyce Byers,” you chirp, pulling the oven door open and placing the dessert dish onto the potholders, “I know it’s not the season for it but it just sounded so good.”

It wasn’t your mess and you shouldn’t have to clean up after a grown man. But you do, and Eddie is more than grateful for your caring heart, for how sweet you are to him even on days he wants nothing more than to rot on the couch and feel sorry for himself. 

His eyes soften, and before you can ask him how his day was, he’s grabbing your cheeks with ice cold hands, bringing his frigid mouth to the warmth of your temple before kissing the tomatoey stain from your lips. 

He sighs into you, his body releasing all the pent up anger and pain from the day. Solace of your arms melted away the glacial cold from within him. 

The kisses don’t stop, and you have to lean back to turn the stove off in hopes that the chili doesn’t burn before you can eat it. 

His cold nose nudges down your neck, kissing the chain he placed there a year ago, one you never took off. He mumbles into your skin and his stomach groans with emptiness. 

“Let’s get you fed big boy,” you mouth against his sweaty curls, and he happily obliges.

After he places the last bite of chili from his bowl into your mouth, you drag him to the shower. 

Rinsing the shampoo from his curls and warming his still cold skin with your body. The heat from his tongue lapping at your skin, and something else prominently making itself known on the cheek of your ass. 

“Didn’t have to do all of that, baby,” he murmurs into your ear, fingers slowing working soap into your skin. 

“Wanted to, I love you Eds.” 

You’ve said it many times before, never once pressuring him into saying it back if he wasn’t ready. A life full of shitty people, it was hard for him to open up, but you opened something up in him that he hadn’t felt before, and he couldn’t get enough of you. 

Tangled limbs climb from the shower, skin barely rinsed and wet tendrils of hair hang down each of your necks. Your lips still taste like chili, and he still smells like work, but neither of you care. 

Lips smack together and skin is left hickied and sweaty. Elbows and knees are rubbed raw from the itchy sheets on his bed, his hair is drying into a mess from your fingers lacing through it, your breath making the curls go frizzy when he pulls you into him and rocks your body against his sat cock.  

Pulling sugary noises from you again, and again, he finally says it there. Chin between your legs, your orgasm dripping wet from his lips.

You sit up to see him, not sure if you heard. 

He says it again, liking the way it sounds, something he had been scared of saying for a long time, but he always knew he did.

A single tear slips down his cheek and it’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever seen, the cobbler would sit untouched until tomorrow, Eddie having found a sweeter dessert to indulge in, love.

[lavendermin]

when it storms | kazuha

pairing | kazuha x reader

word count | 1.9k

genre | light angst, soft, first encounters

The skies had been cast over with rolling clouds of dark grey. Where the sun and moon used to glow so reverently, there now only fell a heavy rain in their wake.

It was fortunate for the land, your father had commented after a few days of downpour. The rain season was hardly this generous in recent years, and with the nation currently closed off there was an uneven flow of imports due to adjustment. More paperwork, longer shipment times. The people would have to endure less patron flow as the rain kept most indoors, but harvests and plenty of crystal clear lakes would be a sight to behold in the coming months.

This is good, you convinced yourself. Perhaps the dry storm seasons won’t be as many.

The streets outside slowly became less and less active with the usual flow of people. You stand against the door frame of your family’s restaurant, watching the never-ending sea of grey clouds above. The rain is cold against your skin as you stick out a hand curiously. It feels refreshing, pleasant.

“We’re closing up a little early today since the rain is starting back up again. Bring in the sign that’s outside. It would be a shame if it got blown away by tonight’s storm,” your father said as he wiped down the counters and put away clean bowls.

With a nod you happily went outside, umbrella in hand. The rain pattered quietly and rolled off the sides of its protective roof, surrounding you with a soothing atmosphere. The day had dwindled to a lethargic close, and with a languid fondness you watched the last few shopkeepers huddle back into their shops and homes.

The streets emptied out within minutes leaving muddy streets behind. The smell of wet earth hung in the air nostalgically.

Maybe it was fate, that double-take you took. With one last gaze out across the rainy-soaked street, you noticed them. The figure was so still—statuesque— that you wouldn’t have noticed them through the rainy mist if it hadn’t been for the bright crimson of their clothing that stood out.

Had they nowhere to go? Or were they someone who enjoyed standing in the rain? Better yet… How long had they been standing there in the pouring rain?

The question made your heart sink just thinking about it.

From within the building, your father’s voice called out with amusement. “Y/n, come in quick or you’ll get soaked. I don’t want you getting chilled and falling ill because you wanted to watch the rain.”

There was a squeeze of your chest when you turned back to the rain—a pang of guilt that gripped onto your mind. Rain fell relentlessly hard as it picked up, and it filled your mind with concern for that stranger in the rain.

Your body only partially turned toward the door, a quick hesitation stopping you in your tracks as you took one last look over your shoulder. That person… would probably get sick at this rate. Something in the way they stood rigidly against the elements held no joy for the downpour. No childlike amusement like the one you held for rainy days.

“I’ll be right in,” you reassure. “I forgot I left something outside.”

Peering your head quickly through the door frame, you see your father wave you off with a patient smile.

“Be quick.”

With a nod, you wait until you see him disappear up the stairs to the second floor to turn in for the night. You are quick on your feet making your way down the street of shops and houses. The patter of your boots on the rapidly-forming puddles pushed your aching legs forward, umbrella tightly gripped in hand.

The stranger was still unmoving as you approached, steps sounding out with the splash of water with each step. You were sure he heard you, yet he did not turn to meet you as you drew near.

“You’ll get sick if you stay out here in the rain, stranger,” you lightheartedly commented as you stopped next to him, holding your umbrella over him just enough to still partially shield you from the rain.

His eyes remained on the grey sky above, only now torn away slowly from the trance. There was a sorrowful haze that gripped those misty, crimson eyes.

“Do you think the rain is beautiful?” he asked.

This sudden question took you by surprise. The way he looked out at the sea of clouds held anything but sympathy for the grey skies that rained mercilessly.

You blinked, not knowing how to respond to this mysterious stranger. Unexpectedly, though, you felt at ease in his presence.

“I think the feeling of it is beautiful,” you responded, looking at the sky with him.

He hums at this answer, seemingly contemplating it. The answer comes from someone who spends their life indoors, and he understands it. Somehow, these small differences in experiences from person to person brings a little comfort to him. To know that not everyone’s simplicities of life are plagued by grief soothes his soul.

Brief silence overtakes you both as you stand in the downpour.

“Do you not like the rain?” you quietly ask after a while. There’s a worried crease in your brows as you look at him, and he cannot help but feel like he gravitates toward your warmth.

Only the harsh patter of the rain on your umbrella and flooding of the streets fills the silence for a beat as he remains in his thoughts.

“It’s been a while since I heard that question directed at myself,” he chuckles. The small smile that graces his features doesn’t reach his eyes, but answers fondly all the same. “When I was younger, I loved the rain.”

There’s weight in the words as he speaks them. You choose not to pry into the emotional scars tied to his answer.

“Are you travelling?” you ask, changing the subject.

He gives you a smile, and you notice how his snow-white hair clings to his face from the rain. It leaves a pleasantly warm feeling in your chest—how gentle he looks.

“Something like that.” Though his answers are vague, you aren’t one to pry—not when his eyes hold a distant sorrow in them. “It’s best to head inside. You could get sick out in the rain.”

��Come indoors with me, then,” you offer simply. With a warm smile you add, “If you’d like.”

He blinks at you, watches as you hover the umbrella closer over him. The rain is soaking most of you by now, and your smile is radiant— innocent in it’s bright sincerity as you offer him a roof over his head.

It makes this kind gesture all the more difficult to refuse.

“Kazuha,” is all he responds with, a thankful smile softening the gloom that surrounds him as you both hurry back down the muddy street. You introduce yourself just as briefly and lighthearted.

With a motion to the bar counter, you tap your hand on its surface to offer him a seat while you close up the shop and disappear into the kitchen. Kazuha wordlessly takes a seat, the warmth of the restaurant enveloping him pleasantly. His hands grip the towel that now rests around his shoulders a little tighter.

Within minutes, there’s a steaming bowl of noodles placed in front of him. “You’re too kind. I couldn’t possibly—“

You wave him off, plopping down on the seat next to him. “If the food is available, why not share a meal?” you interject simply, settling down next to him to begin eating your own noodle dish. “It’s hard to cook small portions when you’re only ever used to making large amounts for hungry customers. So, please, help yourself.”

“Thank you.” And Kazuha means it. “I’ll take my leave once I’ve finished.”

The look you give him is a little incredulous.

“In this rain? It’s an awfully harsh storm we’re expecting tonight.” You set down your chopsticks, looking at him fully with wide, concerned eyes. “You’re free to stay in the guest room until the storm passes. I would feel terribly guilty to leave you out in the rain.”

It’s silent, and you’ve both left your food untouched as Kazuha becomes a little tense. There’s something weighing on his mind with how he avoids your gaze, hands anxiously clenching and unclenching in his lap.

He reaches into his pocket, clutching something in his palm shielded from your view.

Now you’re curious.

His voice lowers, soft and cautious. “I don’t want to put you in danger with my presence.”

The smooth metal of the vision’s frame clangs quietly as Kazuha places it on the table, sliding it towards you.

“I’m a wanted man.”

There’s no response from you for a brief moment. Visions are rare to see nowadays, and even more dangerous to have. Your fingertips smooth over its surface momentarily, eyes sparkling with intrigue and wonder.

“The vision… Why is it missing?” you wonder silently.

Kazuha looks down. “That’s—“

“You don’t have to explain anything. This doesn’t make you a bad person,” you quickly defend. It takes him aback, caught off by the sudden emotion that makes your eyes twinkle. “Stay.”

“It would put you in da—“

“I don’t care. Your life is important. I’ll help you.” There’s a fire in your eyes as you hold his gaze, face serious. Your expression softens as you place the blank vision back in his palm with a reassuring gentleness. “I won’t lose another person to them.”

There are details that both of you do not know, information left out of each other’s backgrounds and circumstances. But one thing reigned true—there was goodness in his heart, and in yours, too. Perhaps this is what convinced him to accept your generosity.

He’s smiling, gentle upon his expression as he picks up his chopsticks once more.

“You aren’t the first to put your life on the line for me,” he adds quietly. The atmosphere has relaxed once more as you both continue eating through idle conversation in the dim restaurant lighting.

You hum, mouth full of food. “And I’m sure I won’t be the last. But,” you bite your thumb, pondering. “I’m sure you’ve been running for a while.”

With a quiet sigh, he answers, “Longer than I thought I would last, if I’m being honest.”

There’s a glint in your eye, and you’re deep in your own onslaught of thoughts. There’s an underlying anxiousness that falls upon your shoulders. Kazuha wishes he could read you better.

For the remainder of the quick meal, you hold your tongue but he can see the gears turning in your head. The bowls are emptied, hunger satisfied, and you show him to the guest room through hushed voices.

“Kazuha,” you call quietly before leaving the room you prepared for him. Your voice lowers further, barely above a whisper and you make it a point to sidle closer to him. “If you had the chance to escape Inazuma… would you?”

His eyes go a little wide for a moment. “You couldn’t mean…”

“I have a plan.”

And in that moment, he gazes at you with reverence and trust. His heart would be safe in the palm of your hand. You wait for his approval to continue with the idea. The smile he flashes you is contagious, and you are a beacon of hope in this tumultuous uncertainty.

He sits on the sleeping mat you've prepared, patting the spot next to him where he plopped down. “Let's hear it, then.”

In the late hours of the night, two hushed voices debate their best chance of escape.

“I have a close acquaintance, captain of her own fleet from Liyue.”

[watermelonlipstick]

Septic

This was written as a request for anon, who asked:

I was wondering if I could request one with Dean. The reader's injury gets badly infected and she gets a high fever and they are stuck somewhere and can't go to the hospital (maybe a cabin during a snow storm or something else if you want?). Anyway her condition keeps getting worse and dean is doing everything he can to keep her alive? As for their relationship it's up to you, whether they're dating or hiding their feelings...?

I hope this is something along the lines of what you were thinking. I decided to go with a ‘hiding from Leviathans’ angle because that seemed the closest to canon compliant to me. Thanks in advance for reading; I would love any advice or critiques!!

Title: Septic

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2124

Summary: Unable to go to a hospital for fear of getting trapped by Leviathans, Dean tries his best to manage the reader’s worsening infection and fever. 

Warnings: fever, illness, swearing, implied threat of death, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff (maybe? if you squint)

           “Dude, I have a fever, I haven’t been decapitated. Can you stop pacing? Sam’ll be back in a couple days, I’ll take some Tylenol and sleep it off, we’ll be good as new in no time.”

           He glared down at you where you laid on Rufus’s couch with flared nostrils. “You’re shivering under every goddamn blanket in this place and it’s been 3 days already. We’re going to a hospital.”

           You rolled your eyes at him and tried to hide the way you snuggled deeper into the woolen bundle. “So dramatic. As if we wouldn’t get made walking in the door. And if you’re so worried about me, why don’t you make yourself useful and get me a hot water bottle and some tea?” You tried to give him your most casual smile in reassurance.

           Dean appraised you with a hard set to his jaw and a twinge of concern at his eyebrows for a moment before relenting. “Fuck, fine. One more day and if the fever hasn’t broken, then we’re going.” It was only a few steps to the kitchen, and you heard him putting a pot of water on to boil. “You sure I can’t just do coffee? I don’t know how you drink this stuff.”

           Like it always did, Dean’s aversion to tea made you laugh. “It’s literally just mint flavored water—you act like you haven’t drunk all kinds of potions and hangover cures.”

           “The fact that I have drunk all kinds of potions and hangover cures should show you how gross it is.” He tossed a hot water bottle covered in worn waxed canvas on top of your blankets and you shimmied it under your feet while he got the tea together. After a moment, he set the tea (and a plastic bear full of honey, which made you smile to yourself) on the coffee table next to you. “Can we at least watch something else? These chicks are driving me fucking nuts.”

           That made you laugh hard enough to shake loose the blanket corners tucked in under your chin. “You might be able to trick Bobby into thinking you don’t like the Real Housewives, but I’m not buying it for one second.”

           He shot you some side eye but didn’t protest, patting your feet in a signal to raise them so he could sit with your legs in his lap. You didn’t remember past the first few minutes of the next episode.

           “Hey, come on, you gotta drink something.”

           You squinted up at Dean, feeling the sickly stickiness of dried and re-soaked sweat in Dean’s stolen sweatshirt where it bunched around your neck. “You want me to sleep, you want me to wake up, pick a lane, asshole,” you tried to joke, feeling each word like a stab in your, well, stab wound. It took more focus than it should’ve too hold onto Dean’s face where he perched on the coffee table right in front of you.

           “You’ve been asleep for 16 hours, Rip Van Winkle. And you’re sweating like a whore in church, gotta rehydrate.”

           “Thanks, Nurse Ratched,” you croaked, carefully keeping your face neutral around the throbbing ache in your side as you sat up and accepted the bowl of broth from Dean. When his hands were free, he put the back of his hand to your forehead in a very maternal way that might’ve made you giggle if you weren’t in so much pain.

           Dean’s lips pressed into a tight line and he breathed a hard “fuck,” as he sat back. “Lemme see it.”

           “If you wanted to get me naked, all you had to do was ask,” you tried to joke.

           “No slick shit, I’m serious. The fever’s getting worse.” There wasn’t even a touch of playfulness in his tone, tight chord of anxiety clipping his words.

           “It’s going to be pink and raw like every other set of infected stit—”

           “Cooperate or don’t, but my bet is there’s no way you can slip out of getting pinned right now.”

           “Who knew you were so kinky, Dean?”

           He didn’t rise to the teasing at all, the just-this-side-of-friendly banter you normally had, and it made the nervous bile rise a few degrees in your throat. You eased back and slowly flipped down the blankets, immediately started shivering as you pulled up your damp layers to show him your stomach.

           It was worse than you’d thought it would be even before he tenderly pulled back the tape to see the injury itself, the gauze a mottled tie-dye of blood and greenish pus. The stitches strained against swollen, angry tissue oozing at the corners, and you looked away to hold onto a little denial that you weren’t completely fucked. “Jesus Christ, kid,” Dean murmured. He reached behind him for a bottle of rubbing alcohol and you didn’t even try to argue, hissing and grabbing his wrist when he poured it over the wound. Dabbing off the worst of the external mess with the moisture, you watched as his mind raced.

           You decided to try to grab the reins of the situation before he locked you both into a crazy plan. “Help me up, I want to take a shower. I feel disgusting.”

           “Can you even stand?”

           You rolled your eyes at him exasperatedly.

           “Roll your fucking eyes at me all you want, you look like Marvin the Martian. Can’t believe I let your dumb ass talk me out of taking you to a hospital.”

           “I’ve got a much better chance of beating a little infection than I do the combined force of however many Leviathans are looking for us and the full force of the federal government. Now get out of my way if you’re not going to help me up, I need a shower.”

           He pushed back the coffee table and watched you stand up, grabbing your arm and waist when you immediately swayed. “Goddamn it, sit back down, I’m getting your shoes.”

           “Dean. I am not going to a hospital. Especially not before Sam gets back. Not a negotiation. I just—you’re freaked out, I get it. I just need you to please let me call the play for once.”

           His jaw muscles tightened into firm balls and you could see the flare of panic behind his gaze as he flicked between your eyes. Ultimately he didn’t say anything, just giving you a tight nod and offering a hand to guide you up and to the bathroom. When you’d gotten there, he hovered in the doorway as you started to peel off layers, hoping that your leaning on the sink didn’t look as obvious as it felt. “Think I can take it from here, chief,” you offered, hoping he’d take the hint.

           “Not adding a head injury to this bullshit stew, sorry.”

           “No way, psycho. You’re not watching me shower.”

           His face screwed up in a scowl. “I’m not going to watch you shower, I’m just staying in here while you do in case you get dizzy again.”

           “Dude—”

           “Not a negotiation,” he growled, spinning your words back on you. You held each other’s stubborn gazes for a long beat before you gave in, getting in the tub and yanking the curtain closed with the rest of your clothes on, shucking the rest of them off and dropping them outside the tub behind the plasticized shield and curtain. You turned the water on and held onto the dial for support, hearing Dean’s movement in the bathroom as he sat down on the lidded toilet next to the shower. Laborious as it was, it felt a lot better getting clean. You’d started washing your hair when he started to talk.

           “You know what you’re asking me to do, right?”

           “Let me take a shower in peace?” You didn’t want to acknowledge the elephant in the room—what was the point?

           “If you’re not septic yet you will be in a day or two.”

           “By which time Sam will be back and you guys can strong arm some vet into giving me antibiotics like the mafiosos you fancy yourselves to be.”

           “Don’t deflect.” It was quiet but firm, and you blinked away the way your vision was starting to fuzz out at the edges. Something about it finally got you to drop the joking, if only for a second.

           “I know what I’m asking you to do.” You hoped he could hear the resolution in your voice.

           Dean was silent for a long enough beat that you thought maybe he hadn’t heard you, but you heard the roughness in his voice when he finally replied. “Please don’t make me?”

           The shower washed away a hot, stupid tear when it shot out of your eye like a kamikaze at his vulnerability. “I can’t be the reason you guys get caught.” You were clean now, but something about the confession-style quality of the shower curtain and the way it was letting both of you say what you really meant held you in the stream of water anyway.

           “I’m not—it’s going to fuck me up forever, you know that, right?” It was almost a grunt, the way Dean’s voice strained as he pleaded with you.

           “Long as you guys are alive.”

           He didn’t respond.

           After a long minute you felt your legs start to turn to jello. “You have something out there I can put on?”

           You heard him clear his voice, sticky and coarse. “Gimme a second.”

           A callused hand shot behind the shower curtain with a towel before Dean’s footsteps got quieter, and you tried your best to dry yourself off without stumbling. Not 15 seconds later, a bundle of clothes came in the same way. You smiled to yourself at your underwear and yoga pants with Dean’s t-shirt; he would’ve had to deliberately go into 2 different bags to get the clothes, no way it was an accidental grab. When you were dressed, you tugged the shower curtain back and didn’t argue when Dean wrapped his arm around your waist to ease you out of the tub, let him guide you back to the couch and fussily rearrange your blankets and pillows before he got out his first aid supplies.

           You watched his face as he worked on cleaning the wound again, knowing he just needed to be doing something, that he couldn’t just sit still and hope it got better. You could give him that, sat stock still even when it stung like a bitch and didn’t even tease him when he made you swallow a handful of vitamins as though that would help. Another cup of soup eaten silently and two mugs of tea later, your eyelids were beginning to droop again.

           “Tired?” he murmured, messing with the cover of the hot water bottle before ultimately getting up to refill it.

           “A little, yeah. Will you, um, will you sit with me?”

           Dean mercifully didn’t acknowledge the shake in your voice, nodding gently and sliding himself beneath you on the couch, tucking you under his arm and onto his chest, burrowing you both into the cushions. You reached your hand out of the blankets to place your palm over his heart, feeling the vibrating thrum of his pulse under your fingertips and cheek. His hand shifted so that he was smoothing the drying hair back from your temple, and after a few beats he bent his neck to kiss the crown of your head. The tenderness of it, the giving in to your request, pulled another tear out of your eye that fell straight into the cotton of Dean’ t-shirt underneath you.

           He sounded like he’d just woken up, that sleepy-syrupy sandpaper of a long night on his vocal cords. “You know, right? If it was going to be anyone for me, it would’ve been you?”

           The weight of it turned the blankets on top of you into a hug. You were nodding into him before you could speak, the tears turning your voice creaky-soft. “Same to you, dummy.” He chuckled once nostalgically at the ribbing, and you felt the rumble of it under you. “Thank you, Dean.”

           You felt the tension of the hiccupped breath before Dean got it under control to answer. “I love you, kid.”

           “Love you too.” It was the only thing to say, and neither of you had to answer or explain this undercurrent that had never been acknowledged so plainly before, no matter how rock solid it might’ve been for years. You laid there together for a long time, beating of Dean’s heart underneath you something constant to hold onto, warmth off his body better than any hot water bottle. The last thing you remembered before passing out was hearing Sam walk through the front door.

-

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[cocosstories]

Chris Evans One Shot

Hey! Can't wait for the Pete fics but in the meantime could you write about snowed in Valentines day with Chris Evans?

Hey! Can't wait for the Pete fics but in the meantime could you write about snowed in Valentines day with Chris Evans?

The usual feeling of warm arms around you was replaced with the harsh cold as you slowly begin to wake up for the day. Looking at the clock, you see its just after noon, you had slept in after working the night shift and were exhausted by the time you had gotten home. Looking at the clock, you see its just after noon, you had slept in after working the night shift and were exhausted by the time you had gotten home.

"Chris?"

Your sleep heavy voice calls out. Receiving no response, you pull yourself out of bed, grabbing your robe and heading out to the kitchen for a much needed cup of coffee.

As you walk through the house, you note the fire roaring in the fireplace and the smell of fresh coffee.

"Chris?"

You call out again, filling your cup and taking a sip. Once again, you receive no answer and you make your way back towards the living room fire, finding Dodger on the couch asleep.

"Hey boy, where's daddy?"

You sit next to him as he puts his head on your lap. Petting him, you lean back against the couch sipping the warm liquid as you wonder where your boyfriend could possibly be. The snow storm outside was getting worse by the minute when Chris finally makes his appearance.

"Shit, its really coming down out there!"

He says as he shakes off the snowy water, setting the bags he brought with him on the floor as he takes off his Jacket and boots. Dodger has now jumped off you and run to his dad, leaving you to watch the two of them play for a few minutes.

"Where could you possibly have gone in this storm?"

You laugh as Dodger jumps around while Chris tries to make his way to you.

"Well, we needed some supplies for tonight and the news said I had a few hours before they were going to have to shut down the roads."

He finally gets to the couch and sits next to you, pulling you onto his lap. You nuzzle into him, Dodger getting up next to you.

"Tonight? Oh Valentines day, right. You didn't need to do anything special for that baby."

He chuckles and rolls his eyes. You were not really big on the whole idea that is Valentines day. To you it was just a commercialized holiday made popular by greeting card companies.

"Maybe I want to."

For most men, it was just a day of buying ridiculously expensive gifts in an effort to get laid. Chris, on the other hand, genuinely liked the holiday. He made you feel special everyday of course but for a hopeless romantic like your boyfriend, it was his super bowl.

You giggle as he kisses your neck, his beard tickling you.

"Fine. So what's in the bags?"

You turn to look at the abandoned bags on the floor.

"Its a surprise."

He gives you another kiss before setting you back on the couch and grabbing the bags from the door.

A while later, you make your way into the kitchen to see what Chris is up to.

"Hey, hey, hey out!"

You try to sneak in but he inevitably hears you and turns you away, swatting your butt playfully as you pout.

"Why don't you take a nice long, hot bath and stay out of my way."

He grins as you sigh, giving up on your efforts to figure out what he has planned and head to the bedroom. You start the bath, adding in bath salts and bubbles before easing yourself in the hot water.

Once out of the bath, an hour or so later, you stare in the mirror, deciding to make the most of the night and dress up for your man.

You pick out a nice pink and white polka dot dress, paring it with some white heels. Taking your time, you apply your makeup and fix your hair, curling it in soft ringlets that frame your face.

"Wow! My girl looks amazing."

Chris had come into the bedroom to change while you got ready, putting on a nice blue button up and some khakis.

"My man is looking pretty sexy himself."

Even with the heels, you have to stand on your tippy toes to reach his lips.

"So, whatcha been doing out there all this time?"

The curiosity getting the best of you as he sighs at your impatience.

"Way to ruin a moment, but fine ill show you."

He laughs and takes your hand, leading you out to the living room, candles and the fire the only source of light. The tall windows of the doors leading outside packed with snow that glistens almost diamond like.

The table, dressed with a white tablecloth, held a beautiful steak dinner, complete with baked potatoes and a salad. A glass of red wine placed carefully just above your utensils and a small but thoughtful gift on your plate. Rose petals line the table and surrounding floor with what was left of the bunch in a vase on the table.

"Chris, this is beautiful."

The words come out nearly breathless as you stare at the amazing sight in front of you.

"You are beautiful."

He wraps his arms around you from behind.

"Shall we eat?"

You nod as he pulls out your chair, pushing it in as you sit down then going to his own chair and taking a seat.

"Go ahead and open it."

Chris smiles as you take the small box from your plate and look at it. You smile back and slowly open it, revealing a beautiful necklace with one small pearl that you recognize as Chris' birthstone, sitting next to a gem you realize is your own.

Tears well up in your eyes.

"Its gorgeous babe. Thank you so much. I love it."

You take it out of the box as Chris gets up and helps you put it on.

"Its you and me. And maybe one day we can add more stones to it."

He points to each stone as he talks, his fingertips, grazing your collarbone.

"I would really love that."

You and Chris had been together for a few years, comfortable in the place you were currently, living together, completely in love. You had spoken of marriage and children before, both admitting one day it was a dream you wished would become reality.

Dinner was delicious, steak cooked to perfection and nothing left on your plates as Chris leads you into the living room where a makeshift bed was now on the floor beneath the couch, next to the fireplace, more rose petals placed around.

Chris motions for you to sit and then disappears back into the kitchen, coming back a moment later with a plate of chocolate covered strawberries. He sits next to you and picks one off the plate, holding it up to your mouth.

You take a bite, closing your eyes as the heavenly taste hits your tastebuds.

Once dessert is gone, you lay back in his arms, staring into the flames of the dancing fire.

"Thank you for today. I know I don't make it easy with my thoughts on Valentines day but I honestly couldn't have asked for a better one."

He kisses the top of your head, settling back against the couch.

"Anything for my girl."

Dodger comes and lays next to you, the three of you falling asleep peacefully as the snow continues to fall in the freezing air outside.

[lettrespromises]

#LettresPromises informs you : You have one notification. ──➤ 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐕𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐋!

─➤ Kuroo Tetsurou sent you a letter, would you like to read it? #CC of the letter directed to : @bbthots-underground​

──➤ #𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : smut. ─➤ #𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐛𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭 : Caught in a snowbound, Kuroo has to work from home. But your sinful envies don’t really match with his working tendencies. Will you be able to keep it quiet for him? Or will you disobey and get punished? It’s entirely up to you. ➤ #𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : Minors please do not interact, +18. Vaginal sex, penetration, degradation, binding. 

« Of course, of course… I understand, mhm. The weather is not on our side, this year’s winter is even more cruel than last year’s. Mhm, for sure, for sure… » Without stating the obvious, this pseudo speech, intercut with several hums leaving the frontiers of his lips, belonged to a man who had to work from home. The blame of such a sudden change was the blowing white storm outside and its ceaseless waves of snow coming to crash down on the ground, the roofs, everywhere. The wind which accompanied the blizzard in this symphony to the ode of the muses of the cold weather seemed to be whistling along to the series of affirmations which continued to pour from his lips like a cascade that couldn’t reach its end.

It was a meaningless consecution of affirmative sentences, perhaps sentences that he didn’t even mean in the first place, but oh well, it was what he would call ‘corporate language’, talk to please the person on the other end of the phone and make them hear what they want to hear.

The discussion, which gravitated around the next selling strategy for the upcoming volleyball competition, wasn’t bound to come to an end anytime soon. Meaning that Kuroo had to more or less listen and give half-interested hums of acknowledgement for a few more minutes. He took a seat on the leather chair throning along with his acacia desk in the middle of the room, his gaze fell on the constant flickering of the ambers in the fireplace to seek a distraction from this deafening discussion.

But there he was, saved by the salute of the echoes of your knocks on the door. You knew perfectly well he was on the phone, being able to hear his hums from the other side of the door, but it’s not as if it was going to stop you. And you stepped into the arena that was his office, dressed in the newest set of scarlet lingerie Kuroo had gotten you (after having ripped to pieces the last set no longer than two days ago.) It was flawless, and the melted perfectly with the shapes of your body. But the way the transparency over the fabric which ‘covered’ your breasts, leaving his imagination run to the darkest corners of his mind, was already stimulating his salivary glands. And he knew, from the first glance on your figure and the way you were leaning against the shut door, that he was going to make a mess out of you… And make that new set of lingerie witness the same fatalist fate as the martyr before. Kuroo didn’t say a word, but the way his fingers pointed at his lap were enough indication for you to understand where you were going to be sitting, after all, you had deemed it as your throne. « Of course, I think it’s the best strategy to valorize the merch. » words fell effortlessly from his mouth, as if he became unfazed by the not so foreign presence on his lap. Or so you thought. « Maybe we could think about asking the MSBY team for some interviews, mhm? » His free hand was busy messily undoing the knot of his tie, far too tight for his liking, before setting his phone in a hold between his ear and his shoulders.

This newfound position gave him the opportunity to undo his belt, the sound of the metal of clicking in unison, and it gave you a hint as where he was going already. You were bound to drag his underwear down, but not before teasing the edge of said underwear with your fingertips (a deed which was saluted with an ill-intentioned glare on his end). « Hold on a second, I’ll be quick. », what a stark comparison between the numbness of his words and the growing bulge obtaining more and more the privilege of omnipotency in the constricting fabric of his boxers.

Kuroo gave a second glance at the phone on his desk, double-checking it was far enough to be able to pronounce the following words without being caught by his correspondent on the other end of the phone call, « All dolled up for me, kitten? How nice of you… » a metaphorical green elixir of mischief dripped down from his words whilst his fingertips found salute on your clothed core, his fingertips moving in appreciation at the sensation of wetness. « Here’s what we’re going to do, kitten, you’re going to ride my cock like the good girl you are but you have stay quiet, mhm? Good girls don’t want to be punished, do they? » Such a rhetorical question, but you nodded nonetheless, eager to feel full once more by the intoxicating sensation of his girth inside you. You were willing to do anything, give up on your boundaries, bend the holy rules of decency if it meant you could reach nirvana. And your ascension began as you allowed yourself to sink on his length, making a martyr out of your lower lip due to the pressure of your pearly whites. You needed to stay quiet, you needed to be a good girl for him.

Kuroo almost felt a hint of guilt at the palette of crimson shades now coloring your lower lip, but it was a sight to breathtaking to feel anything but pure ecstasy. « Tet— Mmphf! » You plea was cut to a halt by the sudden presence of his palm over mouth mouth, were you going to break his rules so quickly? « What did I say about being a good girl? Don’t make me punish you, I know you’re better than that, kitten. » Oh, the disappointed tone in his voice, a forecast of the sinful nature of events which were bound to happen if you kept playing with fire.

And whilst Kuroo was back on the call, having apologized for a pseudo issue caused by who-knows-what, you were hesitatingly rotating your hips, letting the tip of his length kiss your velvety walls. They were shy, almost experimental rotations. But although they were agonizingly slow, you could already feel the sick sensations of knots forming themselves in your lower stomach. Your palms were laid flat on his broad shoulder, your glance solely focused on the way his cock was filling you up, gracing your insides with how the prominent veins were dancing against your walls.

Fuck, was it hard to keep your composure and not give in to the subtle calls of the muses of passion. But he was on a call, the same hums and other signs of agreement leaving his lips whilst his oculars were fixed on you, an ill-intentioned grin throning amongst his facial features as a sign of a silent victory. You were such a good girl for him. He tapped his fingertips against your luscious thighs caging him in a hole he’d dream of spending his entire life in, silently telling you to begin a more rushed rhythm. But before you could start, his index found its way against his lips, another wordless way to demand absolute silence on your end. He knew it was pure torture, that’s why he was liking it so much.

And so you obliged, and the vertical motions on his girth became natural until reaching a steady rhythm which wouldn’t expose you to the light of danger. Or so you thought. Your own betrayal manifested itself when he shifted his position in his leather chair, causing the tip of his length to hit against the roof of your core, a terribly sensitive area which held all the nerves which burned under the sudden touch. A dragged moan left your lips before you could even realize it, your body began acting on its own before your mind did, and that’s precisely when you knew you had both lost yourself and he had lost patience.

You could hear a hushed « Kuroo-san, what was that? Is everything okay? » from the other side of the phone, and the silence invading the air was the worst response Kuroo could ever possibly come up with. « I’ll call you back. » It was short, dry even, and the way his voice had dropped a few octaves was the last sign announcing your own end. He pressed the red button on the screen, thus cutting an end to the call. A sigh of pure exasperation had been set free from his lips, and the silence had become agonizing, the stare he was giving you paralyzed your every move, you could only muster enough strength to swallow thickly.

« I’m so— » You were cut off as soon as the sound of your voice drowned in his eardrums. « Did I give you permission to speak? » You nodded negatively. « Do you know just how spoiled you are? I let you ride on my cock because you can’t seem to get enough of it, mhm? I only ask for one thing in return and you can’t do it properly? Get off. Get off of my cock. Now. »

You did as told, respecting the oh so dear rules of performative language, and found yourself standing before him with your knees almost giving in at the severe look plastered upon his facial expression. You opened your mouth to let out another apology, but your poor attempt had been cut short as he crashed his lips onto yours so roughly he was convinced you had awakened the side of him he always tried to keep tamed.

He had enough pity for you to break the kiss once your lungs began to give up due to the lack of oxygen. « Turn around. » You did as told, awaiting for your fate. « Your arms on your back. » He spat out another order, the coldness of his tone was enough to make a trail of chills run down your spine but you obliged nonetheless. « Tetsu— » Once again, cut off. « Did I give you permission to talk? » He asked, although he already knew the answer to his own question, to which you shook your head. « I thought so too. »

The knot of his tie came out easily, having already undone it a bit earlier on, it dangled from his fingers and his free hand pressed your back against the desk, a move which earned a mewl out of you. Then, his hands travelled around your wrists, leaving a soft caress on your palm before binding his tie around your wrists in a tight hold which severely contrasted with the sweet nature of his previous gesture. You winced in response, furrowing your brows together while he was spreading out your legs. « From now on, I don’t want to hear anything. You can moan as much as you want, I don’t give a damn. Got that, kitten? » And although Kuroo always used this nickname in such a sweet way, this time it had been tarnished by a sinful tone. « Y-Yes, sir. » You choked out, a watery veil covering your oculars in anticipation.

You heard nothing but the sound of his suit pants falling to his ankles, the click of the metal of his belt echoing against the floor, followed by the sound of yet another gulp being swallowed down your throat with difficulty. His fingertips found your core, and they were met with the wetness coating the area. Were you worth cherishing? Certainly not. And yet, he took it upon his kind heart to flick your sweet bundle of nerves, alternating between circular and pinching motions to stimulate you just enough to bring you on the verge of your apex. And just when your moans followed the crescendo of your sensations, he ceased all kinds of motions with a wicked grin on his face.

You couldn’t help but whine in frustration at the sudden lack of touch, your apex hitting a harsh stop so suddenly. « What was that? You’re complaining? » Kuroo half asked, taking a fistful of your hair to orientate your head towards him. « S-Sir, no… I just need, I need… Fuck, sir, I-I need… » Your words were mere hopes against him, your mouth was mouthing unintelligible sounds which found no purpose. « You don’t even know what you’re begging for, how fucking pathetic. » He released the hold on your hair, letting your head fall against the wooden surface of his desk while a string of whimpers left your lips.

« Ah! Please, sir, p-please, just fuck me… » You pleaded, hoping that you’d bent his heart somehow. But you were greeted with a harsh slap right on your derrière in retaliation, « Did I give you permission to speak? You’re fucking lacking politeness, what a slut you are. »

And it was the last vocal warning before he slammed his hips against yours, the latter caused him to dig his pearly whites into his lower lip to prevent any unwanted groan from leaving his mouth at the sensation of your walls wrapping around his cock so tightly. ‘So fucking tight’, he thought, knowing your cunt was made for him and him only. He had to still himself for a few seconds, adjusting to the iron grip which could’ve made him come undone at this very instant, you were too eager for your own good. And yet, you wanted to beg for him to move, do something, but you had to stay silent.

« You. Just. Can’t. Stay. Fucking. Silent. » Each word was accentuated by a slam of hips, followed by the sound of his testicles slapping against your skin. How you wished to bring your fist to your mouth, to bite your poor martyr of a hand at the violence of his thrusts which seemed to increase each time he moved. Pearls of salt gathered at the corner of your eyes, threatening to fall at any given second as Kuroo’s thrusts grew more rapid and more precise, kissing effortlessly the myriad of nerves adorning the roof of your core.

The moans fell from your lips like a cascade which couldn’t reach its own end, and so the tears fell. Kuroo, on the other one hand, rolled his head back in ecstasy while maintaining an iron grip on your tied wrists, thus guarantying you to have scarlet marks.

You knew you couldn’t come undone just yet, at least not when Kuroo was feeling like this, but he was close to his own end judging by the ferocity of his thrusts making a martyr out of your poor derrière which was bound to be colored by a palette of crimson shades as well. The inferno had been set free from its chains in Kuroo’s lower stomach, the blood rushing down to his girth in anticipation for the grand finale. « Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Look at what you— Ah! Fuck, look at what you do to me, squeezing my cock so hard like the f-fucking slut you are. » Truthfully, Kuroo needed to gather all of his strength to prevent any loose grunt from leaving his lips at the same time as his curses.

But he was only a mere man facing his temptations. « C-Cum with me, now! » He spat the words in pure lustful frenzy, losing himself in his own thrust while you could only resume to moan your pleasure away. Your were digging your fingernails in your own palms behind your back, drawing crescents into your flesh in order to distract yourself from the fact you were bound to come undone at any given moment.

Your mind was spiraling into a state of blankness, your body falling numb as you witnessed the metaphorical gates of heaven opening themselves before your sins. A hot trail of liquid painted your blank canvas with stains of sins and passion, and in return, the elixir of your own pleasure leaked down the sides of his cock while he was still thrusting his cum into you, all in a cacophony of sounds of pleasure.

Then the movements ceased, leaving room for more silence and choked breath. A trail of drool leaked from your mouth onto his desk, Kuroo stared at the ceiling while trying to re-gain the control of his breathing. The harsh grip of his hands around your wrists loosened up a bit, until they turned into mere caresses. Such a contrast with his previous deeds.

Kuroo was welcomed with a dragged whimper when he pulled out, the sudden feeling of vacuity replacing in the least pleasing way possible the sensation of his cock. And while you were about to fall down on the floor, your knees shaking from the aftermath of your orgasm, Kuroo’s grave voice shook you away from your thoughts. « Don’t move. I’m going to get the silk ropes, I’m done not with you yet. »

[shortkingzuko]

title: the ocean on a gentle night

relationship: bato/hakoda

post-canon, mutual pining, 3 +1

for day 1 of @bakodafleetweek !!

summary: 3 times Bato and Hakoda pine for each other and the 1 time they don't have to -- For all the fear and terror the ocean inspires, Bato thinks that she tries to make amends with nights like these.

read under the cut or on AO3 for the rest of my tags! :~)

 3.

 The sea shouldn’t be as comforting as it still is. They’ve spent years out on her endless waters, away from families, safety, away from the simple joy of being in their homeland. They’ve lost dozens of men while out on the chaotic waves, have lost a good few just to the waves themselves - taken by the sea’s cold embrace, her damp claws clutching their lungs and hearts. Whether it’s the uncertainty that she possesses - her penchant for turning smooth horizons into the greatest storms - or because her damp fog brings with it illness and coughs, Bato knows that he should be tired of the sea, be disillusioned of her and her power.

 Yet, he isn’t. For all the fear and terror the ocean inspires, Bato thinks that she tries to make amends with nights like these. Nights that have just a slightly cloudy sky, with the barest hint of wake, and stars shining so beautifully that it couldn’t be anything except an apology or a love letter. He thinks of the sea not as a terrible mistress but more like a petulant lover, one who, despite the fits she throws, does love them with all her heart.

 He tells this to Hakoda, who stands silently, contemplating beside him. The theory earns him a chuckle, as he hoped.

 “When did you become such a poet?” Hakoda asks, tilting his head to catch Bato’s gaze as he raises an eyebrow.

 “Maybe I always was, and you just weren’t paying attention.” Bato huffs in fake offence, before breaking out into a grin. The decks of the ship are mostly silent, a few tribesmen milling around, but giving their chief and second-in-command a wide berth. They’re expecting to dock their ships soon, and their intelligence hasn’t indicated any sightings of Fire Nation fleets, so there’s a slightly unusual calmness in the air. A star twinkles down from the sky. Hakoda sighs.

 “What’s wrong, Koda?”

 He shrugs. “Nothing.” He catches Bato’s unamused expression. “Really, it’s nothing. I’m just, you know.”

 “Thinking of Kya?” Bato asks, feeling his heart clench at her name. Even after all this time, Bato feels the loss of her presence like a missing limb, like a piece of ice pressing on the inside of his chest. He may not have loved her like Hakoda did (not like he loves Hakoda), but Bato loved Kya fiercely, with all his heart and soul. He only wishes he could think of her without feeling sorrow.

 “Yeah, I’m thinking of Kya,” Hakoda confirms, smiling a bit at the sky. “She used to love nights like this.”

 “I recall.”

 Hakoda hums. “Remember that time she made us get on a canoe and ride out that iceberg to watch shooting stars? That night was a lot like this.”

 Bato nods at the memory. Kya acting as a navigator at the front of the canoe, Bato and Hakoda both making the boat spin in circles to annoy her. Their laughter rang through the night and attracted the attention of tired seals and curious birds. When they made it to the glacier that Kya was trying to lead them to, the moon was high and bright in the sky, and stars rained across the dark canvas of space. Hakoda and Kya were already dating by then, and Bato looked away every time they kissed, ignoring the dark curl of envy that squirmed between his ribs and coursed through his veins. Ignoring Kya’s apologetic looks that she gave him in between fits of giggles and jokes. He regrets the feelings of resentment he harboured at the time, especially towards her. The envy was long gone by the time Sokka was born, but even now, thinking the anger he felt towards her brings with it a wave of shame.

 “She was so mad when we kept rowing backwards,” Bato says, after a few seconds too long of silence. Hakoda laughs, tilting his head to bump it against Bato’s bicep.

 “Spirits, she was! You’d think with all her shouting at us that our parents would have caught us.”

 “They did catch us, Koda,” Bato reminds him, dryly. Hakoda rolls his eyes.

 “Yeah but not because of her.” Hakoda presses his head against Bato’s arm again, and this time he leaves it there. After a moment Bato brings his arm around Hakoda’s shoulder, softly brushing some of Hakoda’s hair behind his ear. The strands are coarse by nature and by the salt spray of the sea, yet they feel soft and smooth beneath his roughened fingertips. They fall out of place, refusing to go where Bato directs them, prompting him to try again and again.

 “I think she would have made us do something similar on a night like this,” Hakoda says. He doesn’t mention Bato’s hand in his hair or the fact that Bato is gripping him tighter. Wherever her spirit is, Bato hopes that Kya would be okay with this, that she wouldn’t be upset with how he still feels.

 “Yeah,” Bato agrees, feeling Hakoda shift to look up at him. “I think she would too.”

 “Maybe you would have more fun this time around.” Hakoda looks back to the sky, and Bato feels like a fish on the end of a line, mind reeling as he tries to decipher what Hakoda could mean by that. Before he can ask - before he can even think of      how    to ask what he means by that, one of their warriors approaches them, tearing them away from the beautiful sky and the safety of their memories. The warrior tells them that they’re approaching the town they mean to dock in.

 Hakoda nods, steps out of Bato’s embraces as if it’s nothing (and, really, isn’t it nothing?) and goes to do his duties as chief. Bato looks at the sky once last time, looks at the playful waves, and the winking stars, wishing that he had done so all those years ago, before turning and stepping away too.

2.

 Bato’s memories of Sokka and Katara are a bit jarring. He remembers them as young children, toddling around, needing help and saving from everything -      especially    each other. He remembers them as grief-stricken, forced to grow up too soon. They stayed like that in his mind for many years, unchanging, ungrowing, even though every year he and Hakoda tried to send at least a letter home in time for their birthdays. Neither of them is sure if they ever made it. And then, suddenly, the two of them appeared in front of him at the Abbey, so much older, taller, and wiser than he could have ever dreamed. Such little mirrors of their parents, certainly having inherited their attitudes. It almost made Bato feel guilty when he remembers that he got to see them again before Hakoda.

 He knows that Hakoda struggles the same way he does when he thinks of his children. Despite their rational understanding that they’re older now, that they’ve fought hard battles, survived out in the world      alone    and without adult supervision, it’s so hard to separate that from the urge to treat them as the children they were, and still are.

 It causes more than a little friction, and whether it’s because Sokka and Katara see Bato as part of their family (after all, he      is    over for dinner more than anyone else), or whether they would be willing to drag their heels in the snow in front of anyone, they’re not afraid to start arguments with Hakoda in front of Bato.

 He tries to stay out of it but sometimes he just can’t help it.

 “You can’t go boating tomorrow - it’s set to storm,” Bato says, replying to Katara and Sokka’s request to go out. Hakoda had already given a tentative no, but the two of them kept pushing for an answer.

 “So? We’ve dealt with worse weather before,” Sokka says, raising an eyebrow and leaning his head against a hand.

 “You don’t know that,” Bato replies, already regretting getting involved when he sees Katara’s pursed lips and drawn-in eyebrows. “You two      know    how hard it can be to navigate during a storm in the ice fields. And the other times you’ve piloted through bad weather it was in the sky, with other benders. Tomorrow, all you would have is Katara.”

 “I can handle it,” Katara says confidently, crossing her arms across her chest.

 “I’m not questioning your skill,” Bato tries to placate, knowing it won’t help him. “But all you need is to get caught off guard for a moment and that’ll be enough to throw you off or to capsize the boat. No matter how skilled you are, the water is cold enough to knock you out quicker than you can regain control.”

 The two of them are silent for a moment before each of them launches into a spell of arguments and rebuttals. Bato sighs and glances over at Hakoda, who seems to have enjoyed his moment out of the hot seat, though his eyebrows are furrowed in thought. He catches Bato’s eyes, and smiles slightly, before looking back at his children, waiting for them to run out of things to say. It takes a minute.

 “If Bato doesn’t think it’s a good idea, then it’s not a good idea,” Hakoda says, with a rare finality that shuts makes the teens huff and grumble, but not argue back. His gaze sweeps over the table, landing on Bato and softening, warming, like a frozen river in the spring. “I trust him. His judgment, I mean.”

 The admission is enough to warm Bato’s face, making him get up and take his dishes outside to wash in the snow, to avoid having to deal with the pounding in his chest. As he leaves, he can hear Hakoda saying, “You      know    we both just care about you two-”

 It storms the next day and when Bato battles his way through the wind and snow to go to Hakoda’s house to do some work with him, he sees Sokka and Katara sitting by the fire, annoyed but safe, and Hakoda looks at Bato like he’s the sun.

 1.

 The two of them barely get a moment alone anymore. Between having Sokka and Katara within arms reach now, and all the work that has to be done has to be approved, has to get      started,    it’s not uncommon to have at least one or two people in the room with them at any given time. Hakoda isn’t so childish as to be upset about this; he’s ecstatic about the fact that he has his children again, that his mother was waiting for him when he returned, and that there are so many willing and eager members of his village that want to help rebuild their strength.

 But he does miss the quiet nights alone with his best friend. Misses the soft, innocent touches that he received when there were no prying eyes. Every time he thinks he’ll get a moment of peace with Bato, a moment to maybe sit down and      talk    and      think    about what they’re doing after all these years, something gets in the way. A proverbial - or sometimes real - fire that needs him to put it out. It would be kind of funny if it wasn’t so frustrating.

 Because, and it’s shocking to admit it to himself, Hakoda      wants    to talk to Bato about the soft, innocent touches they used to share. He wants to talk about the playful, happy loving gaze that Bato looks at him with when he’s found something that Hakoda has done particularly amusing. He wants to talk about it because, as much as he hates to admit it, he feels old, too old to be playing this ‘will they, won’t they’ game that they’ve been playing for years - probably more years than Hakoda wants to admit or have even noticed.

 How ironic, he thinks to himself when he’s awake too late into the night, with only the sounds of his family sleeping peacefully to remind him that he isn’t the only person left alive, that feeling too old is what stopped him from pursuing his friend for so many years, and now it’s what compels him to settle the matter once and for all. For so long, too long, Hakoda felt the weight of his wife’s death, the weight of his children’s lives, the fate of his village, pressing down on him, ageing him down to his bones, and pulling him away from the thought of finding another lover.

 He had a life, he often told himself, a wonderful, happy life, with Kya and Sokka and Katara. It would be selfish, foolish, to ask for a chance at another one, to try and fan the spark in his chest into the burning ember that lived there now. Lovesick pining and pursuits were a young man’s game, a game meant to be played when the stakes were low and an endless war wasn’t raging.

 Of course, Hakoda hadn’t banked on the war ending, certainly not in his and Bato’s lifetime, and with both of them surviving. Nor did he bank on the spark in his chest growing into a constant warm glow. And yet, here he is, survived a war with his family alive, and unable to get a moment’s worth of quiet to try and piece together feelings that he’s      certain    he and his friend have shared for decades.

 Hakoda is so focused on his inner turmoil, that he almost doesn’t notice when he walks into a tent and finds it empty, save for Bato. The taller man looks up from his work, smiles when he sees Hakoda and jerks his head to tell him to come and sit.

 “Where’s everyone?” Hakoda asks, almost wincing at the question. Just like him to look a gift ostrich-horse in the mouth. Bato shrugs and scoots over so that Hakoda can sit on the floor cushion next to him.

 “Some hunting groups went out and decided to show some of the foreign ‘diplomats’ around.” Bato rolls his eyes at the word ‘diplomats’, happy to not have to fake respect that he doesn’t hold. “Everyone else, I think, saw this as an opportunity to relax with their families for a day.”

 Hakoda hums as he sits down next to Bato, all too aware that he’s close enough that he could bump knees with the other man. “What do you think it says about us that we’re here?”

 Bato snorts. “It says that we’re some of the only men that came home and didn’t immediately sire more children.”

 Hakoda lets out a small laugh at that, leans over the chabudai to get a closer look at what Bato is working on. They work in relative silence for a while, Hakoda passing his work over to Bato to be looked over, sometimes commenting on some of Bato’s, both of them trying to make some headway in the mountain of reports, requests, and agreements that need to be looked over and approved. If it wasn’t all necessary, Hakoda doesn’t know how he would stand it all.

 It doesn't mean he has to like it. He groans in exhaustion, leaning over to rest his head on Bato’s shoulder, burying his nose in the soft fabric. Bato lets out a hum in acknowledgment before tilting his head slightly to get a look at Hakoda.

 “Something the matter?” His voice is soft, gentle in a way that it so rarely is, such a departure from his usual deep candour. From this angle, Hakoda can see his face in such fine detail. The dip and deep colour of his lips, chapped and stress-bitten. The fine wrinkles that adorn his face, proof of a life hard and well-lived. The darkness of his hair, slightly wavy and soft, only now starting to get a hint of shining silver in the roots. Hakoda thinks back to Bato as a teenager, his face slender and smooth, hair dark and finely braided before it was shaved, eyes and wit sharp enough to stop anyone from arguing with any of his decisions. It’s almost funny how so much has changed, and yet Hakoda can so clearly see the ghost of their pasts in every detail of Bato.

 “No, nothing is wrong,” Hakoda whispers, finding himself so much closer to Bato’s side than he remembers. He feels the whisper of Bato’s hair brushing his cheek, the warmth of his breath against his nose, and yet he still finds himself leaning closer, can feel Bato tilting his head down to meet him.

 Hakoda feels a soft brush of lips against his own, gentle and shy despite the roughness. For a moment, Hakoda thinks that that might be all there is, before Bato leans down again, pressing himself against Hakoda with more force, more warmth, more      everything    . A hand goes up to cup Bato’s cheek, thumb rubbing the cheekbone gently, and he feels Bato’s slender fingers as they slide through his head, tugging it slightly before it comes to rest behind Hakoda’s skull.

 The kiss is gentle, exploratory, and feels well won, less like a dam bursting open, more like a meadow receiving sunlight after a long, dark winter.

 And like a cold snap, the warmth is gone, and Hakdoa feels Bato pulling away, trying to remove his hand from Hakoda’s hair without hurting, but certainly with a panic that wasn’t there before. He stands up quickly, without looking at Hakoda’s confused and hurt face and starts to leave.

 “Bato,” Hakoda tries to call out, knowing that his friend’s stubbornness will stop him from turning. “Bato, come back-”

 “I don’t want to deal with this right now,” Bato calls over his shoulder, voice a strangled mix of hurt, worry, and regret. “Just. Just let me think.”

 He’s out the door before Hakoda can reply, and he sighs, body slumping against the table. The room already feels colder without Bato by his side, though his heart still beats fast and the flush remains on his cheeks. Everything haunts him. The ghost of the war, of the men that he boarded his ships with who never returned, the ghost of Kya, the ghost of his children who have grown up so much without him. He thinks that the feather-soft feeling of chapped lips against his own, the burning heat of breath on his mouth, the stillness of the air between them; he thinks that feeling with be another ghost that haunts him

 Hakoda remains slumped against the table for a while longer before he finally pulls himself up to return to his home. He looks out at the sky when he leaves, the wind brisk but gentle, the horizon clear. It feels like a shame to waste what will sure be a beautiful night on self-pity.

 +1

 The night sky glitters with stars, shining through the faint layer of cloud, and the tide is gentle, waves batting playfully against the side of the canoe. There’s a chill in the air - standard for this time of the year, this far south - but even after years being home, the years at war have tricked Bato into thinking that warmer weather was the norm.

 A part of him is certain that he’s too old for this, to be rowing a boat so late in the evening, when the wind wants nothing more than to worm its way inside his parking, gnawing at his sore joints, in a way that he knows will be miserable tomorrow morning. He’s too old to have allowed himself to be goaded out onto the water.

 Hakoda turns to look at him and he smiles so brightly that the stars look pale by comparison. Bato can’t help but smile back.

 “I don’t think we’re going to find the glacier,” Hakoda admits, bringing his orr back into the boat, twisting himself so that he sits facing Bato.

 “Of course we’re not,” Bato says, voice as dry as winter winds. He brings his oar into the boat as well, only barely resisting the urge to smack Hakoda with it. “It’s been, what? Twenty? Twenty-five years since we last went out to it?”

 Hakoda huffs crosses his arms across his chest in a way that makes him a perfect mirror of his teenage self (and both his kids, Bato thinks, amused). In a voice that Hakoda would never allow Bato to categorize as a whine, he says, “I know.”

 “Then why drag me out onto the water?” Bato pushes. Hakoda lets out a sigh and looks up at the sky again. His hair falls away from his face, the light highlighting the peaks and valleys of his face. He’s filled back out, now that they aren’t rationing food and being starved, and his strong cheekbones produce graceful shadows across his face. In the moonlight, Bato can only see the faintest hints of the wrinkles, crows' feet, and laugh lines that he’s memorized.

 “I thought it would be nice, you know? To get back out on the water on a night like this.”

 “A night that Kya would have liked?”

 “Yeah.” Bato remains silent, but he too looks up at the sky. There are no shooting stars, no arctic lights in the sky, but it’s beautiful in a way that Kya always appreciated, and above all else, Bato and Hakoda both loved everything that Kya loved.

 Maybe they loved more of what Kya loved than they thought.

 “She would have liked this,” Bato finally chokes out. The wake of the sea feels comforting, like a mother rocking a child to sleep. He sees Hakoda tear his eyes away from the sky to look at him. “We would have had fun on a night like this.”

 Gently, Hakoda brings his hand to Bato’s knee, letting it rest there for a moment. Bato freezes, unsure of what boundaries exist between them now. So many people think that his silence is one of understanding, yet after their kiss, after      everything    , Bato feels nothing but hopeful confusion.

 “Even you?” Hakoda asks. “Would you have had fun too?”

 “I always had fun with you and Kya,” Bato defends, finally bringing his eyes away from the heavens and back to Hakoda. He sees Hakoda’s raised eyebrow and sighs. Almost shyly, like he’s a teenager on his first date again, and not the old man that he is now, he places his hand on top of Hakoda’s. “Yes, Hakoda. I would have had fun.”

 Hakoda smiles. Bato thinks that Kya would have smiled too.

[shark-el]

this fic was based off of a conversion I had with @born-at-3am​ about how Baz's first name (Tyrannus) sounds like a dinosaur name, and well lets just say I was really bored one day and decided to write this. this is the first fic I've written since middle school, and the first one I've ever published. Eh whatever I hope you guys enjoy and that its not to bad, but I wrote this for fun and I guess that's what matters right?? Any way here's my crack-fic.

link to the fic on AO3

summary: 

 Baz is tutoring Simon in magic words because Penny isn't there, and things go pretty much as you'd expect, aka a total disaster!

but Jurassic times call for Jurassic measures.

Tyrannusaurus-rex

Baz

We're in magic words class and I've been assigned to babysit Simon snow, a job usually reserved for Bunce but she's sick with some sort of highly infectious disease leaving her quarantine and bed ridden.

So of course I have the ‘absolute pleasure’ that is tutoring snow on his magic words homework.

We're sitting at his desk and it's awkward.

Even though we've been roommates for five years now, we never really talk. Unless it's to pick a fight, Which normally end up in me saying some witty retort or insult, and snow growls at me, his magic bubbling up to the suffice the like hot water in a tea kettle, then proceeds to storm out of the room slamming the door behind him.

I can see the visual discomfort and anger on his face at having to not only sit next to me but also at having me explain to him what to do. He's always had such an expressive (and beautiful) face.

“Listen snow i don't want to do this ether but let's just get it over with, and hope for Crowley's sake that Bunce gets well back soon”

“You're probably the one who made Penny sick in the first place, don't know how or why but definitely for some plot or somethin’ ”' he mutters under his breath, and I suppress a snort. That's another thing about Snow he always thinks I'm up to something, has for years now. Sure sometimes he's right, but normally it's all in his head, though I never confirm or deny it which always drives him mad.

Raising one eyebrow I say as sarcastically as possible “Yes snow i contracted some sort of diseases to get Bunce sick just so i can sit next to you, and teach you how to transform inanimate objects”

He just rolls his eyes at me. A clear since I've won yet again.

I just smirk at him  and take in the silence, letting his glare settle on me.

I pretend not to notice as i say “Anyway, Snow this is a simple spell, one not even you could possibly be able to mess up''

He just grimaces and continues glaring at me, I don't know how I'm supposed to survive two full hours of this, but ill make due.

We're supposed to transform a stuffed animal from one creature to another. I of course mastered this in the first five minutes, which is how I got myself into this miserable situation in the first place.

Snow decided to turn him into a dinosaur.

After about half an hour of working on emphasis and pronunciations for the spell, an infuriating process that involved repeating the words ``life err...finds a way” from Jurassic park, several times in many different ways. We moved on to the wand movement which he was holding all wrong, as always. I don't know how Bunce can deal with tutoring him all the time, he's just so useless (it's kind of endearing in a way, though I'd never admit it).

“No snow, don't be so harsh with it. it's more of a fluid motion, like this” and I demonstrate with my wand.

“Oh sod off, I tried that already it doesn't work” he says exasperated.

“Well try again” I say frustrated.

He begrudgingly tries again.

wrong, again.

He’s such a fumbling disaster I can't decide whether it's infuriating or adorable.

He's on his seventh try and I sort of just stare at him (because he's trying so hard, and it's cute, and I can't help myself. thankfully he doesn't notice), he just needs some direction maybe if I just?...

No, I can't. sitting next to him is bad enough. if I reach out and help direct him with my hand. I don't know if I'd be able to stop myself from doing something I'll regret.

I'm fantasizing about his warm hand holding mine, hands clasped together just slightly intertwined at the fingertips (because I'm a useless romantic and I can't help myself) when I'm struck back to reality with a bang.

Blinking twice I realize it's the sound of snow smashing his fist in anger on the desk, and I can tell he's about to go off by the feeling of hot thick magic beginning to flow everywhere around us.

“Calm down snow” I practically yell.

“I'm trying!” he shouts back.

I waver between wanting to help calm him down and egging him on, making him go off by saying something to make him even more frustrated, and this time with his full rage focused on me, maybe he'd be so mad he’d pin me to the wall and… (oh Crowley I'm disturbed).

I settle on letting him calm down on his own since me helping him calm down would probably put him even more on edge.

“Ok let's  take a break for a few minutes Snow, I need to go get some air” I say and take my leave.

As I walk through the corridor outside of class trying to clear my head, and realizing we weren't making any progress, so I decide maybe i should try a different approach to teaching him, (though it pains me) encouragement.

When I come back he’s mostly calmed down.

I sit next to him and I say in the most encouraging way I can “ok, are you ready to try again?”

“Yah I guess” he says exhausted, like he normally is after he almost goes off.

he holds out his wand again hands shaking, he’s worked himself up too much at this point.

“Snow I know you're trying but the spell won't work if your hand isn't stabile”

“I know, I know it's just…” he starts but doesn't continue, voice tired and faint.

“Do you want help?” I say softly, don't know why I asked that he'd never agree, but now it's too late to take it back.

He nods.

I don't know how to react, but I reach out my hand to help steady him (someone should probably help steady me at this point).

Simon

Baz is reaching out his hand, somewhere in the back of my mind I know he's doing it to help me, but my body reacts and panics before he can, since I'm not used to him actually helping me.

I stop thinking.

I'm watching myself spin toward him and chant the spell more clearly and precisely than I've done all day.

The next thing i know Baz is standing there in front of me, only its not Baz its a T-rex, about 2 feet tall with dark grey scales and pointy teeth, sort ’a like the plushie I imagined except alive (well as alive as a vampire dinosaur can be) and glaring at me with pure fury in his eyes.

At first I'm just surprised that it actually worked!

Then I want to apologize and tell him it was a reflex, and that I actually did want his help. when the full reality of the situation and how utterly absurd it is catches up with me then I'm doubled over on the floor laughing before I can stop myself.

I can't breathe, this is too much, I actually can't!

After about two or three minutes of me laughing hysterically on the floor clenching my stomach, tears streaming down my face, I take a deep breath.

I'm about to calm down when I realize something else that makes this entire situation a whole lot funnier.

“Baz you’re a Tyrannusaurus-rex!” I blurt out and that sends me into another fit of laughter.

I think I can faintly hear Baz say “Snow stop laughing, and try to find a way to turn me back!” in an angry and exasperated tone, which would have scared me shitless if the spell hadn't also made him sound like a plushie (or at least how you'd expect one to sound like).

But after a moment I am terrified because if I don't die of laughter, Baz will happily do the honors (though that's nothing new).

If you guys have gotten this far thank you so much, I will now reward you with a picture of Tyrannusaurus-rex:

[flutteringphalanges]

Summary:  “Am I in Hell?” Agatha’s voice was hoarse, a hint of fear in her tone. “That depends on your definition,” Dracula answered. “Perhaps.” His fingers felt cool against her burning skin, the fever raging through her body. “If you’re going to kill me, then do it,” she mumbled. The count chuckled, gazing into her eyes. “On the contrary,” he smirked. “I’m going to save you.”

((In which Dracula cares for a gravely ill Agatha))

Characters: Agatha Van Helsing/Dracula

Rating: M

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: Thank you all so much for your support! It means the world! Quick shout out to @rheabalaur! She is incredibly knowledgeable about the history of Dracula and Vlad Tepes and though I ended up not exploring human!Drac in this chapter, I wanted to thank her! She’s got some neat posts on the history and I learned a lot! Anywho, feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! Here is the next chapter! 

                                    Chapter Ten (Part Two)

Psychosomatic heart palpitations. The only diagnoses one can give to someone whose heart has stopped so long ago. Settled deep behind his rib cage, Count Dracula could almost swear he felt the dead organ pound against his ancient bones. Its rapid beating battering against his ear drums. Agatha Van Helsing was gone. Vanished without a trace except for a final message scribbled hastily on a scrap of paper. And it was all his fault.

"Fuck, Agatha!" He cursed, feeling the draft from the air outside. She'd neglected to close the doors properly, though that was beside the point. The cold temperature didn't bother him. No, he was immune. But she wasn't. "Dammit!"

Transformation. On foot. But there was the issue of his missing boots. The vampire's mind reeled a million miles a second. Usually he was so good thinking on his feet. Decisions coming easily to his mind. Yet there he was, standing hopelessly like a fool, trying to devise a plan. A way to find her. Agatha. His Agatha. In all of his centuries of life, never had he made such a fatal mistake.

He stared down at the corpse of the young man whose lifeless brown eyes gazed back at him. His skin was so pale, almost lily white after being completely drained of blood. Dracula let out a grunt, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Sloppy. Careless. His new existence as a vampire had yet to come easy to him. Despite being a learned man, he was well on his way of opening Pandora's box if he wasn't careful.

"Oh don't look so stoic." The vampire exhaled, glancing up to the dark sky. "You were far from valuable to begin with. Now what to do with you…"

Thunder rumbled overhead and small raindrops began to fall from above. Dracula frowned and glanced towards the direction of his castle. Experimentation. Understanding what he was didn't just fall on his shoulders. No. There was something interesting he witnessed with each new kill. From cradle to grave and from grave to coffin. Dying from one life into the next. A small smirk crossed his features as lightning crackled from above.

"Perhaps you will prove more use to me after all." He stated, lifting the body with ease. "So we shall see…"

By some stroke of sheer luck, Dracula managed to come across a pair of old boots tucked away in an old closet. Dusty, they gave off an unpleasant smell that even he found rather foul. But his own comfort was far from his concern. Slipping them forcefully on, he hurried out through the front doors and into the winter elements. Going bravely forth into the bitter snowstorm that had begun to stir from its sleep again.

His pace was brisk, each long stride with purpose as he walked away from the castle. Much to his misfortune, the fresh snow had completely covered the ground, burying with it any sign of Agatha's tracks. Not even transforming into a wolf would help at this stage. No. He couldn't sense her and that alone terrified him. If she was...no, no he couldn't think like that. So he pressed on, faster now.

Lovech Province, Bulgaria. At least, that's what he had learned from her blood. A pretty little thing, traveling alone to meet relatives in a nearby village. She'd been an easy target and quite an interesting one at that. Someone he had deemed worthy enough to keep.

"Please!" Dracula heard her wail from her box. "Please let me go! I'm so thirsty!"

"No." The vampire replied simply, so casually as if he was merely telling her the time of day. "No, I think it's best you stay put for now. Don't worry, I'll take good care of you. I always do with my brides."

Brides. He scoffed at his own term. It had been something he had come up with after holding captive several of his victims. Dracula needed to, after all, have some sort of name for them. In a sense, it seemed fitting. They were his after all. Property. Like cattle. Valuable, unusual stock that any bidder would desire and yet not know the horrors they were getting into.

"Let me go!" The woman pleaded. "Please, I promise I won't tell anyone! Just free me!"

"I shall return later." Dracula sighed as he ignored her screams of protest. "Perhaps with something to eat if I feel willing." He paused before looking over his shoulder. "And do try to keep the wailing to a minimum. I hate how it echoes throughout the halls."

Brides. Cattle. He grinned to himself as he exited the cellar. Disposable indeed.

"Agatha!"

He mentally cursed the howling wind that drowned out his voice each time he called out for her. Of all the times for her to disappear, of course it had to be in the middle of a blizzard. On many occasions she had threatened to leave, but the vampire had never thought she'd go through with it. If he had, if he had half the mind to, maybe he could've prevented this. All of this. If he had just been honest. Maybe she'd still be safe. Warm. Tucked away with him in the castle. But she wasn't and he was to blame.

"AGATHA!"

He hadn't quite expected his time with Jonathan Harker to turn the way that it had. It wasn't often that Dracula was left to deal with a slip up-if one would even call it that-but he found himself in a quite peculiar situation. An instance that led him to the steps of St. Mary's Convent in Budapest, Hungary. To her.

Agatha Van Helsing was a creature he'd never seen before. Such wit. Such spirit. She did not fear him like the others. She tested him like a fishman precariously dangling bait off the side of a boat where a shark was spotted. And that very moment when those few drops of her blood met his tongue it was a euphoria he couldn't explain. Seeing glimpses of her past. Of her history. Of who she was and of him. Of the infamous Abraham Van Helsing who had proven for a while to be a thorn in his side. Her grandfather. The product of a vampire slayer. And Dracula wanted...no, needed more.

The next course of action ended grizzly, not that he was quite surprised. But it wasn't until he came upon Agatha and that innocent, weakling Mina that his desire for the nun became curious. In any given dangerous situation, one must choose fight or flight. To defend yourself against your enemy and possibly die, or to out run them in the hopes of living. Agatha did neither. Instead, she offered herself in place of Mina. Seemingly cared nothing for her own life but only that of the woman's.

And so against what he thought at the time was his better judgement, he freed them both. Unknowing that soon enough fate would have them meet again under even stranger circumstances. How delectable and useful just a small amount of blood could be.

He couldn't smell her. No matter how far he walked, he still had yet to pick up any of her scent. That gave him some hope that maybe she hadn't injured herself. That perhaps she had found someone by some chance who had given her a ride somewhere. Unlikely as it was, it gave him a false sense of peace.

But due to the hindrance of his tracking abilities, a part of the Count began to wonder if Agatha's former Convent's beloved God was punishing him. That perhaps his version of Hell was not having her. Losing her. And who was he to deny that truth? Hell had frozen over and with it the former nun's mysterious disappearance. Dammit, Agatha, where could she have gone?

Dracula found himself staring at her for hours when he had first brought her to his castle. Watched as her chest rose and fell with each unstable breath. How her creamy skin was blotched by the red of the fever. At any point he could've killed her. Any second. With how ill she was, she wouldn't even see it coming. But she didn't. Instead, he observed. Quiet as his unaware guest rested.

When she did wake, truly became aware of her surroundings, it was a fond memory. How furious she was. How spiteful. After everything he'd done, Agatha showed no sign of gratitude and quite frankly, the vampire took no offense to that. She was merely an experiment after all. Someone he desired to learn more about. Except, he never expected it to go as far as it did.

"Fuck!"

Dracula's arms shielded him out of pure reflex as a tree fell just a yard away, spraying him with the wet snow that had clung to its branches. He wiped the substance away, his skin cool enough that it didn't immediately melt on impact. The way it clung to his clothes like some form of unwanted camouflage. For the first time in a long, long while, he was starting to despise the stuff.

"Agatha!" He tried again, this time louder. "Agatha, answer me! Where are you?!"

But only the storm returned his calling.

Emotions. Perhaps that's why he found it confusing at first. These feelings that no cold blooded person should experience. But the first real flicker struck him the moment he saw her wearing the dress he'd gotten her to replace that dreadful habit of hers.

Dracula thought of them. The hundreds-thousands of women he'd seen throughout his lifetime. Many whose beauty was beyond compare. But Agatha was different. Something about her, the way she stood there before him. There was so much he wanted to say. And at the same time, he wasn't sure what.

"Well," she said testily. "If it looks bad on me, you might as well-"

"No," he interjected. "No. You look...lovely."

Lovely. Out of everything he could've said, those were the words to spill past his lips. She blushed, but it wasn't the same color as her fever. No, this was different. So it truly began. The start of something he had very much yet to comprehend.

It was growing darker outside and Dracula knew it wasn't just because of the storm. He began to pick up his pace, fear beginning to rise even further than before. How long had he been asleep? A few hours at most? Could she really have gotten this far?

That's when he smelled it. The very faint, but familiar scent of blood. An aroma he was so familiar with that his stomach dropped at the realization. Agatha. It was Agatha. And the sweetness he associated with it only made him want to gag. His worries had been confirmed. Something had happened to his nun.

Maybe it was when they lost control over dinner and ended up having sex so rough, the aftermath of their heated lovemaking shouted to the heavens the next day. Or when she got so furious with him once, she broke her hand against his face. But perhaps the moment it really dawned on him that his feelings for Agatha Van Helsing were far from just a whim of passion was that night he truly tasted her.

The way she trembled against his touch. How he had to hold her as he ran his tongue across the inner thigh and to her very center. Sweet, like her blood, and he savored her like a fine wine. It hadn't been rough. Fueled by aggression. No, the way she melted into him was something far different. And when he was finally inside of her, that same sense of euphoria that he'd experienced those several, several months ago struck him. And he lost it. Completely gave way and pierced his teeth into Agatha's sensitive flesh. Blessed with her indulgence once more. That was his first mistake.

The smell of fresh blood was stronger now and Dracula followed it like a bloodhound. Though he knew he had to be drawing closer, how potent it was becoming only left his stomach twisting into knots. This wasn't a mere scratch. Not with how intense the smell was. There was a significant amount and the vampire dreaded what that could mean. What the outcome he was about to face was. How he wished Agatha had just gone ahead and staked him.

Cruel. That was the proper description for his next actions. Never mind triggering Agatha with old memories of Abraham-a man he knew well enough while, not evil, lacked any sort of endearment towards his granddaughter. He only furthered his stupidity when he abandoned her afterwards, leaving what should've been a good moment with a negative, abrupt ending.

In an almost sadistic, poetic way, the stake to his heart had been the final straw that broke the camel's back. The moment where Agatha's walls completely crumbled to the ground. Where she had, in her actions, admitted her true feelings when he had not. Metaphorically piercing her own heart when she should've done his. And he smiled. Grinned and waved away her affections. If only he realized the cost. The consequences. Those few words scrawled upon a strip of parchment.

Something caused him to stop in his tracks. Not the giant branch that blocked his path, but the feeling that there was something else. And so he hesitantly gazed over the edge, over a set of ragged rocks that dropped down several yards to the bottom. That's when he saw her. A figure lying motionless below wet by something other than snow. Dark. Even from where he stood, his excellent vision could make it out. Blood. Agatha.

"Agatha!"

Dracula leaped with such grace it made the long drop seem like a mere step. He hurried over to her side. Blood. There was so much blood. It stained the rock around her, caked locks of her hair together. And for a brief moment, for a fraction of a second, the vampire thought he was too late. It was only when he heard her pulse, the weak thrumming of her heart, that he knew she was alive. Barely. But still with him. As he exhaled in relief, her eyes opened.

Quickly he knelt beside her, the smell of her blood burning his nostrils. Thirst. Hunger. But he fought it. Battle the feral urge to feast within him. Dracula's hands were warm, sticky and red as he cradled her head ever so gently. She stared back at him unfocused.

The Count wanted to berate her. Scream at her for being so boneheaded. But not because he was furious with her. No, she had terrified him. So many questions. So much to say. Yet he couldn't. There wasn't any time to do so. He was losing her. Right there in his arms, the only person he'd truly ever cared about was withering away. He couldn't let that happen.

"You're dying." And the words held far more emotion than he'd ever had anticipated. "Agatha..."

"I know," she croaked.

The way she said it. Her tone. She wasn't afraid. Far worse. It was as if she was more than willing to accept this horrid fate. This end where one no longer exists. And he had planted the seed that made her okay with that.

"I can save you." There was a tremor in his voice. "This doesn't have to be the end. Let me..." He swallowed, damn how he hated to sound vulnerable. "Let me..."

There was a moment of pause as Agatha struggled to catch a breath. It ached deep within him to hear the pain as she did so. She was so strong. Even in death, she fought with bravery. What a soldier she would've made. What a companion in his human lifetime she would've been.

"Tell me..." Blood bubbled up in the corner of her mouth as she struggled to remain conscious. "Tell me..."

"Agatha!" He spoke to her loudly, trying desperately to keep her awake. "Tell you what?" But the Count already knew what she meant. "Tell you what?!"

"Just..." She was fading now. Fading so fast. "Tell me..."

Tell her. He looked deep within her blue eyes as the light began to fade in them. Tried to hold her stare so she knew he really meant it. Weeks. Months. It was so long overdue and this was far from how he wanted to ever admit it. Open up to her like she had him. But now he needed to. So he swallowed, swallowed so thick as if his very life was caught in his throat.

"I love you." A statement so foreign, and yet, felt so right. Something wet brushed against his cheek. A tear. Was he crying? "I love you, Agatha Van Helsing."

A weight lifted off his shoulders. The entire universe relieving him of the pressure he'd felt for so long. He gazed down at her so longingly it was as if everything had stopped around them. Waited for her final words. Praying she'd give into his demands.

Agatha smiled weakly and closed her eyes at his confession. "Okay," his lover murmured. "Okay…"

And Dracula's fangs plunged into her throat.

[evakuality]

Based on a prompt by @j-purplesunsets-rainydays:  I just thought of another prompt for you 😅 davenzi, enemies to lovers: their entire group is going to a cabin for a few days, though Matteo and David for X reason don't get along. They get there early, before everyone else, for whatever reason, but a bad snow storm hits and the others can't get to the cabin, so David and Matteo are stuck together there! It's cliche but I think you could really make it amazing

This isn’t quite what I had intended from that prompt, but here we are.  Chapter one of a planned eight!  Many many thanks to @kapplebougher who did an amazing and speedy beta job for me, and to my cheerleaders - you know who you are!

Snowbound, chapter one

It’s quiet as David presses his forehead to the cool panes of the glass and stares outside.  That’s something for which he’s genuinely grateful because it means he can try to get his racing thoughts into some semblance of order before he has to play nice for several days.  He’s had major reservations about this trip ever since Abdi first suggested it when he was five beers into a great night and everything had seemed equally hilarious, exciting and easily achieved. To Abdi anyway.  None of those things is even remotely true, definitely weren’t true at the time, and yet they had made it work in the end.  Sort of.  

David’s on a train in charge of an entire large bag filled with food and alcohol while most of the others are going to follow later in a car.  Which they could technically have brought the food in, but into which they apparently weren’t able to fit it considering the mountains of other important stuff they were trailing.  Like skis, a snowboard or two and lots of warm clothes.  Make ‘having no room for the food’ point one on the list of reasons why this trip was a badly organised, blatantly stupid idea. 

David sighs as he drags his eyes back inside the carriage and looks around him.  Looks at Matteo, who’s dozing in the corner of the seat opposite David.  That’s the biggest problem, and that’s why David had reservations about this from the start.  Not that anyone listened to him. That’s point two on the long list of why this was not a good idea.  Though in terms of how large it loomed in the list of ‘reasons why David should not do this’ it’s right up there, and probably should have its own points track and not just ending up lumped in with all the other much less important reasons.  

The thing about Matteo is that he shines and stings in David’s life in equal measure.

The thing with them has always baffled everyone around them.  Fuck, half the time it baffles David.  There was a small moment in time when he’d thought they were connecting.  Back when he was newly arrived from the raw, rough experience at his old school and Matteo had smiled at him a few times, David had thought he might even have made a friend.  Someone he could share thoughts with, relaxing into the new sensation of smoking weed and rambling about everything and nothing for hours.  

But he was swiftly disillusioned of that idea when Matteo had retreated into himself as early as the next day, his smiles coming less often over the next week, clipped and cut off and eventually fading to nothingness alongside short, rough dismissals of any attempt to connect again.  That it was something to do with David was obvious when Matteo was with his friends.  With them, he’d spark into life, laughing, pushing, teasing.  He had the energy he’d had on that one glittering evening they’d spent together.  So watching Matteo with those others, fresh from the wounds inflicted at his old school, David had run and hidden.  From that moment he was careful to stay as far from Matteo as he could get, unwilling to suffer anymore at the hands of people who flash hot and cold and always have some sort of verbal weapon hidden under the cover of their friendliness when it appears.

Huffing again, David turns back to look out the window.  Thinking about Matteo just serves to raise his blood pressure, sending both an aching thought about what might have been if Matteo hadn’t been such an ass and a stabbing anger at how blasé he seems to be about the whole thing now that they’re thrown together so often through chance.  Well, chance and a group of people who don’t let anyone stay distant once they’ve decided they want to be friends.  Blocking out the sight of Matteo sitting there in front of David is the best way to keep his carefully cultivated calm.  Once they’re all at the cabin with the boys it should be fine.  It’s never quite as hard to be polite when it’s not just the two of them.  So it’s something of a blessing that Matteo is asleep and David isn’t forced to make awkward small talk with him.

Instead he can focus on the beauty of the world outside his window.  Darkness is drawing in around the train and with it come some small flurries of snow.  They dance, fidgeting spinners through the air as the train rattles onwards through the landscape, beautiful and fragile.  Watching them, David lets himself drift, following their forms with his eyes and his heart and leaving his own troubles slumbering on the seat opposite.  There’ll be time enough to worry about all that once they get to their destination.

“How are we supposed to get to the cabin?” Matteo asks, his voice clipped, weariness seeping in even though he’s been asleep for the last hour at least.

David kicks at the heavy bag by his feet, finding it impossible to move and wondering glumly how they’re going to move it at all, let alone get it to the cabin.  

“David?” Matteo says, irritation slipping into his voice, and David’s gaze snaps up to Matteo’s.  The exhaustion is actually easy to read even in the shadowy light in front of the station, or maybe it’s so easy to see because of the way it throws all the planes and angles of Matteo’s face into relief and plays up all the hidden shadows reflected on it.  Dark smudges are visible under his eyes and his body is slumped against the stone wall in a way that looks more like genuine need for support than affectation.  David shrugs.

“Dunno,” he murmurs.  “Uber?”

Matteo’s lips purse as if the idea is distasteful, but he too looks down at the bag stuffed full of food and seems to recognise the inevitability.  He sighs and pulls out his phone.  Within moments he nods and looks over at David again.

“It’s on its way,” he says.  “We should get this stuff out the front I suppose.”

David nods, relieved to have something to do other than stand around making this awkward chat with Matteo in the dim lighting that calls back to the hallway in which they’d first talked.  The hallway and conversation in which David had first thought he might manage to belong in the new school that was so terrifying after everything he’d been through.

Between them, they manage to perch their personal bags over their shoulders and drag the food bag through the brightly lit entrance hall and out to the cracked and broken pavement out the front.  They stand together, panting breaths sending puffs of misty air out into the deepening dusk as the day slips even closer into night.  The snow is falling faster now, no longer dancing but now coming down as if with purpose.  David shivers as he looks at the flakes, rushing towards their inevitable soggy end now rather than twisting and dancing as if on spirited legs.  The wind is cutting through the hoodie he’s wearing, whistling in under the open edges of his jacket and making him shudder with the cold.  

Beside him, Matteo has lit up a smoke of some sort, and David doesn’t want to know what type of smoke it might be.  It’s enough that it smells terrible, the smoke acrid in the gusts of wind whipping around them, but that somehow Matteo makes it look good.  His eyes when he blows the smoke out flicker closed, his head tips back and David is drawn to the long length of his throat exposed by the movement.  Which is almost as infuriating as the revolting smell.

“How long before it gets here?” David asks, trying to shake off the sudden flush of heat that Matteo’s smoking has dragged into his own body, swamping it and masking the chill of the night.

That might have been a mistake as Matteo looks over at him, the smudges under his eye almost invisible now and his eyes a deep reflective blue in the artificial lights as his hair flops down over his face.  It’s so reminiscent of their first discussion under harsh lights outside a school room, that David has to suck in a breath and drop his own eyes to the ground, focusing instead on the scuffed shoes he’s chosen to wear.

“It’s about five minutes away,” Matteo says, and David nods morosely.  Five minutes.  Might as well be an eternity.

“Why can’t either of us drive?” David asks, not really intending to be heard but Matteo huffs out a tiny laugh drawing David’s eyes right back up to his face.

“Because we’re lazy fucks,” he says, his eyes glinting as he takes another drag on the smoke between his fingers, then offers it to David.

The smell crashes over him again, and he wrinkles his nose.  Shakes his head.  There’s a flicker of something on Matteo’s face, his eyes shutter for a brief moment before he nods and takes another drag himself.  The hint of a smile is gone, and when Matteo turns his back to the wall and looks up at the sky David knows the conversation is done.

This always happens.  There’s some small start at camaraderie or conversation, but then it shuts down almost as soon as it begins, leaving David ill at ease, body thrumming from a desire he can’t explain and head stuffed full of contradictory thoughts.  Matteo is at once enthralling and exasperating, never opening up enough to let David see inside.  As if that one long ago conversation was all David was ever to be allowed to see and to know and everything else is cut off before it can even begin.  It stabs at him again that Matteo isn’t like this with anyone else.  With them he’s charming and open, teasing and sarcastic, alive in a way that David is never allowed to see if they’re ever alone in this way.  Not that David wants to be allowed inside.  He just wishes he knew what the hell he’d done to make Matteo this different around him.

There was part of him, back then, that had wondered if Matteo was some sort of asshole who’d worked out David’s secret from that evening they’d shared and rejected him because of that.  Back then, it was all rough and raw and cut him to the bone whenever he ran up against the prejudices of others.  It’s not as bad now, not when he’s lived long enough in the world to feel more secure in his own skin.  He’s much less likely to give in to the desire to run and to hide.  Still.  The lingering feelings from those days colour every interaction with Matteo and it always ends like this.  Stilted conversations that go nowhere and a Matteo who’s closed off and shut down.

Before he can let his thoughts darken any more, headlights flash around the corner and a small boxy car slides up next to them.  Matteo’s bending to look into the window, and laughing at something the driver has said, all hints of his earlier tiredness dissipating as he turns to grab their bags and fling them into the car’s backseat.  The contrast is so stark that David can’t help the pain that lances through him as he climbs into the back seat next to the pile of bags.  

It only takes about ten minutes to get to the cabin, but in that time the snow becomes heavier until it’s almost impossible to see as they make their way through the night, headlights barely making any headway against the thickening shroud as it falls.  The driver has stopped cracking jokes and started squinting through the windscreen, his hands gripped tightly on the steering wheel and his face a mask of concentration.  Matteo has subsided too, his exhaustion obvious in the way he lets himself flop back against the headrest.  It all leaves David to the joys of his own thoughts, which are not particularly peaceful.

Sighing in relief as they arrive, he’s able to shake off the approaching melancholy and get their belongings safely stored into the cabin. David looks around him as they stand just inside the entrance.  It looks pleasant enough, this cabin they’ve rented, with a large open plan kitchen taking up most of the space at one end of the long room, and a table breaking the space between it and the living area which is filled with plump couches and overstuffed chairs.  Thankfully, there’s a wall heater as well as the fire place with wood neatly stacked inside.  It’s so cold in the unheated room that David is shivering again, and he knows there’s no way that fire will generate any heat any time soon.

Matteo seems to have had a similar thought, because he strides over to the heater and pushes a few buttons.

“Putting that on the highest it will go,” he says as he turns back to the luggage they’ve stacked just inside the front door and starts pulling out the various foodstuffs they’ve brought with them.

Part of David wants to argue, to push back against the assumption that Matteo gets to be in charge and making all those sorts of decisions.  But a bigger part of him knows that’s unreasonable and knows that if he’d been the one to turn it on he’d have done exactly the same thing, so he just hums an affirmation and bends to help Matteo with the food.  They work in near silence, with the occasional query about where to store certain foods the only discussion.

David wouldn’t call it uncomfortable exactly, but he can tell just how tired Matteo is and just how much he wants to be away from David.  The chilly tension from the station remains with them, and David hopes like hell that the rest of the boys aren’t too far away.  He needs their cheerful exuberance to make it through this trip with any sort of enjoyment.  This frosty, barely-there communication Matteo has going on is putting a huge dampener on David’s experience of this time.

The chill in the air wears off as they work, pushed away both by the heater’s warmth and the effort of heaving things around, but the chill between the two of them lingers.  David wistfully hopes that by the time they’re done their company will have arrived.  He’s not sure how much longer he can endure this silence and tension once he has nothing to focus on and they’re forced into some weird semblance of intimacy.

They’re just about finished, storing the last few beers into the suitably large fridge, when Matteo’s phone pings loudly.  He shoves the beers he’s holding deeper into the fridge and by the time he’s dragged the phone out of his pocket it has sounded twice more.

Matteo’s face flickers as he reads the messages and his lips crease into an angry line.

“Fuck,” he says softly, so quietly that David is sure he wasn’t supposed to hear, but he can’t help the inquisitive hum he makes.

Matteo’s eyes snap up to him as if he’s just realised David is still here with him.

“The boys aren’t coming,” he says, his face flushing as he drops his gaze away from David’s.  There’s resignation and irritation in his voice and a scowl on his face.  David winces.  That’s one possibility he hadn’t even considered, too consumed by the need for the rest of the boys and their enlivening presence perhaps.

“What?  Why?”

“Snow storm, apparently.  They can’t get through.  Stuck at some little hotel somewhere on the road.”

That’s just great, David thinks viciously.  The boys were supposed to be his buffer.  They were supposed to make this thing something like fun.  Instead he’s stuck here with someone who clearly finds his company less than ideal.  Someone who David himself finds difficult to get through to, and with whom he has a complicated history.  Worse, the boys have all the equipment with them, so there’s no chance even for skiing or snowboarding to get him away from the supremely awkward moments he can already sense looming in his future.

He flings the door open and looks outside.  Indeed, the snow has piled up so there’s about a foot drifted against the cabin already.  It’s not stopping anytime soon, either, as the flakes are falling so steadily now that it’s impossible to make out one from another.  Any hope of the boys getting through to rescue David stutters to a halt, lost in the chilled white wall piling up in front of him.  

Beside him, Matteo huffs his own irritation.

“Fuck,” he says again, louder this time.

David has to agree with that sentiment as he closes the door, blocking out the unwelcome sight of the silent, muffled white world building its armour against them.  Fuck, indeed.

[psychedaleka]

god does not play dice with the universe (but he does play pranks) (vii)

read on ao3!

Hallmark movie Melkor/Mairon/Celebrimbor.

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for @tolkiencrackweek

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Starring:

Mairon Artáno, overworked engineer at Angband Enterprises, originally from the small town of Valinor. Engaged to his boss, Melkor Bauglir.

Melkor Bauglir, CEO of Angband, estranged from his family.

Aulë Artáno, father of Mairon, Manwë Sulimo’s best friend.

Manwë Súlimo, mayor of Valinor, father of Eonwë, Melkor’s fraternal twin.

Eönwë Súlimo, Mairon’s ex boyfriend.

Celebrimbor Finwion, grandson of the deceased genius Feanor, civil engineer to be fixated on restoring Valinor as a lively small town.

So: Mairon is engaged to Melkor, and very much in love with him despite the significant age gap and fact that Melkor’s his boss.

A few days before Christmas, his estranged father Aulë calls him in a panic: Mairon’s teen brother Curumo has gone missing.

Mairon’s never gotten along with his father, but he remembers the younger brother who’s always looked at him with hero worship in his eyes.

So Mairon packs his bags, kisses Melkor goodbye, and returns home to Valinor.

His homecoming isn’t quite as pleasant as he’d hoped: he gets into an argument with Aulë almost immediately after he gets off the train—it’s your responsibility to look after your own son—and Mairon storms off into the night.

He hasn’t been home for years, and it’s changed more than he thought: Valinor had been a vibrant town then, fuelled by traffic from the highway. It had been bustling with activity, people walking through the streets, buildings lit up with signs and goods, a festival or special event seemingly happening every week.

But ever since the new highway was built, fewer and fewer people have been coming—and so many have been moving away. Lúthien’s son, for one, and his fashion company, and all his family and their employees—now gone. Shops and buildings are abandoned, storefronts left decrepit with nothing more than shelves of dust, flickering, poorly maintained lights. New roads were built, then abandoned to potholes and weeds, and old roads went out of use.

Valinor’s not a big place—it never has been—but with the new town layered over that in Mairon’s memories like a palimpsest, is it any surprise he gets lost?

A blizzard starts, and Mairon, still wearing his business formal, is ill prepared—he’d left all his luggage with Aulë, phone included.

He has no choice but to knock on the first door he sees: the house of one Celebrimbor Finwion, civil engineer.

Mairon’s not familiar with the Finwions—they lived a little north, in the community known as Formenos back when there were enough people that Valinor had to be divided into multiple neighbourhoods. He knows Feanor was a genius who had children and died early, and that his son Curufin had followed in his footsteps (except for the dying part).

Fëanor—Aulë’s contemporary—had a grandson a few years younger than Mairon.

Celebrimbor is in his house, still working despite the late hour—much to Mairon’s surprise and approval. Celebrimbor invites Mairon in—he doesn’t have a phone, since it distracts him from what he’s working on—and they begin to talk.

Mairon is, surprisingly, drawn to the young and ambitious engineer, who wants nothing more than to see Valinor as the lively town of his childhood, back when there was still life and light. Mairon, still in shock over how much has changed in the last decade, vows to help him.

They spend the night in pleasant conversation, and the next day comes but the blizzard doesn’t stop. They talk for the entire day, too, and Mairon’s shocked at how much he has to say to the young engineer. Mairon’s not much of a conversationalist—even a few hours of conversation usually exhausts him—but it’s been much longer and he’s still excited to continue.

The next day, they dig themselves out of the metres of snow, and Mairon returns to Aulë’s house. Yavanna and Aulë are worried sick for him, and they have yet another argument.

Mairon demands how they could claim to care and worry about him when they never seemed to do so during his childhood, leaving him to face the bullies at school and the solitude of years alone.

Aulë, incensed, retorts that he was only trying to save the town, working nearly round the clock in order to bring more business and new people—for Mairon, he might add, to have a future. How could you be so ungrateful, Aulë rages, and Mairon opens his mouth to speak but—

“Stop it!” yells sixteen year old Curumo, standing at the front door. “Why do you have to keep arguing like this? Aren’t we family?”

Curumo, it turns out, had wished every Christmas for his big brother to return home, and now that he’s old enough to not believe in Christmas miracles, decided to take matters into his own hands by running away to a friend of his, Olorin’s house.

Aulë and Yavanna vacate the living room, and Mairon and Curumo have a difficult conversation. Their childhoods were different ones, and they’re different people too, and Curumo’s hero, standing right in front of him, doesn’t exactly live up to his expectations.

Curumo cries. Mairon remains impassive.

The doorbell rings.

It’s Manwë, Aulë’s best friend, and his family—his wife Varda, and their two children Eönwë and Ilmarë. They’re here for lunch, as is traditional, and it’s a tense meal. Manwe doesn’t know what happened, but he and his son try their best to diffuse the tension—they fail.

Mairon volunteers to wash the dishes so he doesn’t have to speak to anyone except—Eönwe offers the same.

They’re in close proximity, and maybe Eönwë’s still not over their break up so long ago, but Mairon feels nothing. Their conversation is stilted, which only makes him long for Melkor—or Celebrimbor, surprisingly.

Problem solved—Curumo found—Mairon prepares to leave. Mairon offers to drive him to the train station, and he accepts.

There, he runs into Celebrimbor, who, disappointed, asks him if he’s leaving.

Yes, Mairon says.

Oh, Celebrimbor says. I thought—well. I know we’ve only known each other for such a short time, but you made me feel as I never have, as though I could tackle whatever problem the world gave me. And I thought you would stay, to help me with Valinor.

A train pulls up. Mairon should leave.

You make me feel the same way, Mairon says. I wish I could help you, but I—I can’t stay here, not with my family like this. There’s too many bad memories here.

We could… make new ones? Celebrimbor suggests.

A pause.

I love you, Celebrimbor blurts.

Silence.

Someone hugs Mairon from behind.

Guess who, says Melkor.

Mairon turns his head, and Melkor kisses him.

It’s your favourite fiance, Melkor says.

You’re my only fiance.

Celebrimbor leaves without another word, and Mairon can’t explain the deep sense of loss in his chest.

Come on, Melkor says, pushing Mairon towards the parking lot. I wanna see how much this town has changed.

Mairon barely has time to process that before—

Melkor? Manwë looks pale, as though he’s seen a ghost. What are you doing here?

As it turns out, they’re fraternal twins—which would explain why Mairon’s never made the connection. Melkor left very early, after graduating high school, desperate to get away from an overbearing father.

Mairon wonders how he’s going to explain this to Eönwë: oh, I’m dating your long lost uncle.

The tension skyrockets.

Manwe and Melkor have a shouting match. Aulë and Melkor have a tense conversation. Aulë tries to lecture Mairon on his romantic choices. Explaining to Eönwë is as awkward as he thought.

Celebrimbor is nowhere to be found.

Mairon, hesitantly, mentions Celebrimbor to Melkor.

Huh, he says, I had a crush on Fëanor when we were in school. If you—we—were to date him, I’d feel like I was robbing the cradle.

Christmas Eve is spent in awkward tension.

Christmas Day comes. Outside, everything is covered in snow. Inside, everyone is in surprisingly good spirits.

There’s a bit of Christmas magic in the air, after all.

Mairon talks to his family, and no one gets mad. There’s too many years and burnt bridges and things done—or not done—for them to make up, just like that, but it’s a start.

Manwë and Melkor talk. They’re older now, no longer teenagers, and with the years in between—and Eru dead—they can talk about it, now, their shared childhood, everything that was and no longer is.

All that’s missing is Celebrimbor.

A knock at the door.

I came to say, Celebrimbor says—

Whatever you have to say, no need, Mairon says. I care for you. And I’m hardly strictly monogamous, after all.

Celebrimbor is hesitant, but willing to try to make things work. They, none of them, know what’s going to happen, but it’s worth a shot.

You wouldn’t happen to know where Fëanor hid his jewels, would you? Melkor asks.

Celebrimbor doesn’t. But Maedhros does. And Melkor remembers the caves where they came from, filled with rock structures and glittering stone, like a glistening spray of stars against dark sky, enough to take anyone’s breath away.

This is it, Celebrimbor says. This is how we save Valinor.

And so, maybe they do get their happy ending. It’s not an easy path, no, filled with arguments and negotiations and tears, but it’s better than another world they don’t know, one where Feanor’s jewels nearly destroy Valinor instead of save it.

But in this universe, where Christmas has some power after all, there can be more laughter than tears, and the only rings Mairon creates are wedding rings—three of them.

[strangerfictions]

Detention In December

Request: //Hi!!! 🙋 I was curious if you would do number 17 off the Xmas promp list with Billy X chubby reader?? I think it'd be cute!! XD

17: “I can’t believe it’s Christmas Eve and I’m stuck in a snowstorm with you.”  “There’s worse company.”  “Doubtful.”

Summary: You and Billy end up in detention together. After arguing back and forth you both begin to feel comfortable around each other.

Warnings: Mentions of Billy’s shitty dad but other than that I think it’s just full of soft Billy really

Words: 3205

A/N: Thanks to @shewhofeelsnature for this amazing request. I had to think about this one for a bit but was inspired by the book ‘One Of Us Is Lying’ and also ‘The Breakfast Club’ so hope you enjoy this fic! I tried to make this a chubby reader fic so hopefully I did it justice! This is my last fic for a while because I’ve decided to take a break for christmas. I will be opening my requests again after christmas so if you have any requests sit on them until then!

As if your week couldn’t get any worse you were made to go to detention on Christmas Eve. It had started to snow before you left your house and by the time you made it to school it was a full-on blizzard. You knew you would get detention for what you did but you didn’t think you would be punish so harshly.

As you push the door open to the detention hall you see that it’s just you and one other person. That person being Billy Hargrove. It was well known that you hated Billy Hargrove but that was proven last week after he beat up Steve. You walked straight up to Hargrove the next day and punched him breaking his nose and giving him another black eye.

As you let the door close behind you Billy turns a full 180 in his chair to see who was joining him for detention today. His eyes lock with your and he lets out the most dramatic sigh you had ever heard. You knew it was better to sit on the other side of the room well away from Billy. You didn’t need another day in detention over the holidays.

You looked at the clock above the desk to see that is was already 12:05. The supervising teacher was late meaning you were left with Billy unsupervised and you really didn’t like the idea of that. You glance out the window and see the snow getting heavier. There was no way you were getting home easy in that. Your day couldn’t get any better.

You take out your homework from your bag as Billy continues to huff and puff from the back of the class. You begin to do some physics questions glancing at the clock every now and then. At 12:15 Billy stands up and stretches.

“As much fun as this has been Y/L/N I’m out of here” Billy walks towards the door as you continue to ignore him. You knew he wouldn’t get very far with the snow, so you expected to see him again.

As you continued on with your physics homework you could hear banging from outside the classroom. You were intrigued so you got up from where you were sitting and walked towards the door. You peak out the door to see a defeated Billy leaning against a row of lockers.

“You know punching lockers isn’t going to make your situation any better” You shout down the hallway receiving a glare from Billy. You hear him scoff as he pushes himself of the lockers and walks towards you. You turn on your heal and sit back down.

“This is all your fault Y/L/N. If you hadn’t of punched me, we wouldn’t be here no would we.” Billy walks across the classroom and sits on the teacher’s desk watching as you put away your books.

“You think I’m happy about this whole situation? I can’t believe it’s Christmas eve and I’m stuck in a snowstorm with you!” You huff as you kick your legs up onto the chair in front of you sliding down slightly trying to stay warm.

“There’s worse company.”  Billy stretches his face plastered with a smug smile.

“Doubtful.” You truly meant it too. You couldn’t stand how cocky Billy was. He knew he was pretty and loved getting any sort of attention.

“Well we are going to be here for awhile so get over it princess!” Billy suddenly stands up and walks towards the radiator near you.

“Well at least we have heat…kinda” Billy jokes as the situation begins to set in. It’s Christmas eve and you were stuck in school with no other than Billy Hargrove.

“Not funny. This whole situation is not funny. I’m going to look for food because it’s a lot more serious than you think Hargrove. Grow up!” You snap at Billy as you storm out of the classroom and down the hall towards the canteen. You knew Billy was immature, but it turned out he also didn’t have a serious bone in his body. He thought everything was a joke.

“Hey Y/L/N wait up!” You continue to walk towards the canteen as you hear Billy jog after you. As you both walk silently to the canteen your steps fall in sync with Billy’s.

“You’re probably right about this whole situation. I just like to look on the plus side of things” You glance over to see Billy looking down at his feet while he talks to you.

“Alright fine well lets just hope there is food here considering it supposed to be winter break!” You push the doors open to the canteen feeling a cold breeze hit you as you both walk in. You shiver slightly as you make your way to the back of the canteen where the kitchen was.

“Jesus why is it so damn cold here” You look Billy up and down as he walks ahead of you. As per usual he is barely wearing clothes. His jacket is ripped in places and his shirt might as well be wide open he has so many of the buttons open.

“Before you say it…I know I should be wearing heavier clothes. Don’t be that person” He glances at you as he pushes the door to the kitchen open.

“What do you mean by ‘don’t be that person’” You hold up your hands making air quotes much to Billy’s dismay.

“I mean don’t be a know it all now can we find the food before I freeze in here” You nod your head as he walks to the other side of the kitchen to search for some food. You do the same. After five minutes of searching you both have handfuls of food to last you at least a day.

“So, you still think I’m the worst person to be stuck in here with?” Billy asks as you both walk though the canteen to get to the detention hall.

“Yes, Billy I really do. Just drop it” You didn’t want to talk about this now all you wanted was some warmth.

“No, I won’t drop it” It was his turn to do the air quotes now.

“You seem to forget that you were the one who punched me and gave me the black eye and almost broke my nose!” You scoff as you walk ahead of Billy.

“Really Billy? Maybe if you didn’t beat up everyone that got in the way of this ridiculous act you have going on! You might be able to fool everyone around you, but no one acts like you for no reason!” You stomp into the detention hall and head straight for the radiator. You can hear Billy’s boots hit the floor behind you as he walks towards the opposite side of the room. He kicks a chair on the way almost tripping himself up. You choke out a laugh earning you a glare.

“Enjoy your trip Hargrove?” You begin to laugh as Billy’s face begins to turn red. You can’t tell if he embarrassed, angry or both.

“Shut up Y/L/N” Billy growls from across the room. Angry. That what that face is saying.

“Relax it’s a joke…do you even know what they are Hargrove or are you that dumb that it doesn’t reach that far in your brain?” You knew you were annoying him, but you continued to rile him up see how far you could take it.

“I’m not dumb” You look up from the spot on the floor you were staring at to see a defeated Billy sit in a chair by the window.

“Really because to me anyone who hangs around with Tommy and Carol is dumb. I mean you could be friends with anyone in the school and you pick them…I mean what have they got on you ?” You are genuinely curious why he was friends with those two they just made everyone’s life hell.

“You wouldn’t get it Y/N” The way Billy says your name gets your attention.

“Oh yeah? Try me! I don’t know if you haven’t noticed but I happen to be regarded as a bit of a nerd so you know with that comes a brain…sometimes…so I think I will understand. We all have our issues. I know that all too well!” Billy looks up as you mention your own problems.

“Oh yeah what kinda problems does a nerd with perfect grades have?” Billy asks you as he leans back in his chair with a cocky grin on his face. He thinks he has you figured out, but you aren’t the person he thinks you are.

“I’m not the person people think I am. People think I’m super smart and happy all the time…Well I’m not! I’ve always been the bigger girl in my friend group. The nerd who hasn’t dated anyone. I’d been bullied in middle school and so I promised myself when I started high school, I would stick up for myself and so I did. A kid tried to push me into a locker first day of freshman year and so I pushed him back and threw the first punch except I didn’t stop. I ended up breaking the kids nose, gave him a split lip and eyebrow and two black eyes. People left me alone after that, but I was still this walking stereotype. The chubby nerd! I mean you clearly have a lot of issues but I’m willing to listen…I want to understand the real Billy Hargrove because this certainly isn’t him!” You gesture at him as you speak hoping he will let his walls down.

“You seriously think you are chubby?” You scoff and look down at the ground afraid of what he will say next.

“Not what we are talking about Hargrove” You mumble as you hear him get up off his chair.

“I’ll cut you a deal. You listen to what I have to say about your problem and then Ill let you know what my deal is yeah?” You look up to see Billy sitting on the table opposite you.

“Fine” You nod as you readjust your feet as you continue to bask in the heat from the radiator.

“Okay here’s what I think. Yeah, you’re a nerd but so what ? I had heard about your reputation from Tommy but didn’t believe. How could a pretty little think like you beat someone up that good. That was of course until you punched me and almost broke my nose. Nice punch by the way. Harrington could learn a few things from you. As for the chubby thing I really don’t think that’s accurate” You look up to see Billy standing over you.

Leaning in towards you he whispers “I think you’re far from chubby…curvy yes but not chubby…I always liked curvy girls they have more character than the dumb blondes I’m used to so when I saw you I knew I had to have you princess…nerd or not!”

He pulls away from you and sits back on the table opposite you smug grin on his face. You could feel your cheeks heating up at Billy’s words.  Of course, you knew better than to believe him.

“Uhmm I’ll be back in a minute I need to use the bathroom” With that you run out of the room and down the hallway. You hated the way Billy Hargrove was making you feel. Damn snowstorm was to blame for everything. You run into the bathroom and into the cubicle. Were you having a panic attack? No, you were just out of breathe but you were experiencing butterflies. You hear the door to the bathroom open and close…he followed you.

“You know it’s creepy to follow me into the bathroom” You shout out at the boy who is leaning against the sink opposite your cubical.

“I wanted to make sure you were doing okay…you ran out pretty quickly. Something I said princess?” You can hear the genuine concern in his voice, and you realise that he may have been telling the truth the entire time. You open the door to see him leaning against the sink.

“Uhmm…” You hesitate as Billy’s eyes met yours. You notice how beautiful his eyes are. You could stare at them all day.

“I get you haven’t dated before but let me break down this wall you have built up around you and I think we may have more in common than you think…but first I promised to reveal the real me I guess…I want to stay in here though. It’s warmer in here than in that damn classroom!” You nod and sit up on the counter beside him.

“Where do I even start? I don’t want you to feel sorry because that is not what I’m looking for here. You let me in a little so that’s what I’m doing. I want you trust me Y/N because you’re right I do put on an act, but I have to. My dad’s a pretty hard man. He is never happy with anything you know. When my mother left, he began to treat me like a piece of shit. Did I deserve it? Sometimes but still it messed me up and so when I knew we were moving here I decided to make a change…like you. I wasn’t taking shit from anyone and this was also my way of rebelling against him you know. I had girls over every night just to annoy him. I gave up on wanting to be this perfect son cause I knew that wasn’t going to work. Tommy and Carol were the easiest targets, I guess. If I’m dumb, they are even dumber because they do anything as long as they are in your good books!” Billy sighs once he is finished talking. You haven’t taken your eyes off him as he explained everything to you. You never expected him to actually tell you anything let alone confess this to you.

“I’m not going to pretend to know what things are like for you but this you is a lot nicer than the one I’m used to. I can’t imagine how hard things have been for you, but I want you to know that I’m here for you if you need a friend…a proper friend not like Tommy or Carol!” You smile when you see Billy visibly relax. He was now comfortable around you and you were happy that you had managed to break down his walls. You knew what was coming next and you didn’t like it.

“Thanks, I appreciate it. Surprisingly it’s like a weight f my shoulders to let someone in you know” You nod because you do know. You felt the same way telling Billy even if your confession was far from his.

“So…are we going to talk about you running away from me or just ignore it because I would like to talk about it but if you want to ignore it we can” You let out a shaky breathe unsure on where this conversation was going to go.

“I mean what is there to talk about. You said…what you said, I freaked out and ran out and here we are. Nothing to talk about really. You know why I was spooked by what you said” Once you stop rambling Billy jumps down from the sink counter and walks to where you are sat stepping in between your legs.

“I want you to relax. I’m not going to hurt you, but you need to tell me a few things first. Have you ever kissed anyone before?” You shake your head as Billy pushes a strand of hair from your face behind your ear.

“Okay and would you like someone to guide you through it princess?” You are about to refuse but then you think back on what had told Billy earlier in the detention hall. You were a walking stereotype. You nod your head too nervous to say anything.

“Well I know someone who is pretty qualified in that area I can hook you up if you want” You laugh as Billy’s hand reaches up to your cheek. He moves towards you as you prepare yourself.

“Relax princess I’ll guide you” With that his lips are against yours. Despite the fact that they are barely touching you can feel how soft they are. You get a slight taste of cherry of his lips. Cherry coke! Billy has now deepened the kiss your lips smashing against his as things begin to heat up between the two of you. You hand goes to the back of his neck and you begin to play with the hair eliciting a moan from Billy. After what feels like hours Billy pulls away allowing you both to catch your breathes a little.

“Who knew the nerd Y/N Y/L/N was such an expert kisser” Billy says as you laugh.

“That wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be” You mumble as Billy steps away from you.

“That’s cause it was with me! I’m an expert at this kind of thing!” You laugh because it was true.

“I wonder if the snow has let up any?” You ask hoping of the counter.

“Lets go check” Billy takes your hand and pull you out of the bathroom and down the hallway to the door leading outside. Once you get to the window you realise the snow has finally stopped which means you could leave.

“Yes! I’ll race you back to the room!” Before Billy even has a chance to argue you begin to run towards the detention hall to get your things. You can hear Billy’s boots hit the floor as he runs after you. As you get to the door you stop dead seeing the supervising teacher sitting at the top of the class.

“Shit” Billy almost collides with you as he skids to a stop.

“We are fucked Y/L/N” You open the door ready to hear some shouting from the supervisor.

“Where have the two of you been?” The teacher asks as he stands up and walks over to where you were standing.

“Well since you were very late and we thought we would be stuck in here we went to search for somewhere warmer than here and food and now we are leaving to go celebrate Christmas with our families because I’m not risking getting stuck here and I don’t think Hargrove is either” You brush past the supervisor and grab your things Billy right behind you. You walk out of the room and wait for Billy to follow who runs out behind you.

“Who knew you had it in you! You really don’t live up to that stereotype you know. The more I see of you the more I realise that your nothing like a typical nerd” You smile at Billy’s words feeling your confidence build in you as you both walk towards the back doors leading to the carpark.

“Do you need a lift home?” You forgot that your mom had dropped you off and you planned on walking home.

“That would be great!” Who knew detention could bring two people who hated each other together. You were surprised you even talked to Billy all things considering. Now to celebrate Christmas.

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[skylarmoon71]

Earth 2 Harrison Wells x Reader- Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don’t own the Flash

Warning: Mentions of suicide. Please be warned. 

“Barry be careful, if she gets any of that mist of you you’re a goner. The poison affects you the same.” Cisco’s voice rang in his ear. 

“Got it!” he zipped forward, coming to a complete stop when he stood before the woman who just watched him cockily. There were over ten people now unconscious in the museum. 

“Listen Flash, just let me get that gem and I’ll be out of your hair.”

“You know I can’t do that.” There was a ruby, said to have belonged to a royal family. It was a main attraction in the museum, for obvious reasons. 

“You know, they really should keep things like this more heavily guarded. “ the meta mocked walking closer to Barry. He was standing directly in front of the artifact. 

“So, how do you intend to stop me. If you try to zoom closer you’ll be done within a second. And I’m sure you realize by now touching me is just as dangerous. So what’s Central City’s greatest hero going to do?” She was taunting him. Barry gritted his teeth. He pushed forward. 

It didn’t take long or her poison to release, putting her spores into the air. The second he took a step, his body fell flat, veins surging with the green poison. Barry gasped, watching as she laughed walking over his body. She broke the glass with ease, plucking the gem and stuffing it into her pocket. 

“See you next time Flash.” With that she was off, the alarms in the museum blaring at her exit. 

Through the entire ordeal you’d been hiding behind a pillar. You peeked out when you realized the crazy meta was gone. What you did see was the Flash passed out of the floor. 

“Crap!” you ran over. When you got closer you could hear a voice coming from what looked like a com link in his ear. 

“Barry, Barry, answer me!!” a female voice screamed. You pulled out the mic, speaking into it. 

“H-Hello, I’m one of the civilians at the museum. That woman she got the gem and ran off. You need to get the ambulance here now!” the woman didn’t say anything for a second. 

“The Flash, is he breathing?” she sounded hesitant to even ask. 

“Yes, he is. He’ll be fine I’ll take care of him just get help.” she didn’t waste time, you could hear her alerting authorities from the other side of the microphone. You dropped it, eyes moving back to the male in front of you. You took a deep breath, hands hovering over his body. A green mist started to rise, slipping into your skin. You groaned, feeling the poison sink into your veins. When it all disappeared you let out a heavy breath. 

“One down.” you thought going over to the other victims. One by one you repeated the action. The more poison you sucked through your body the more sweat seemed to gather at your forehead. You’d lost count on how many you’d already healed when you heard a gasp from the side of you. Your head turned.

“Y-You’re awake?” you said softly. The speedster looked a bit disoriented. 

“What happened..” he stood slowly, hands on his knees to keep him balanced. 

You placed your hands flat on the ground, thankful he didn’t see you using your abilities. 

“That meta did a number on you. She got away with that gem thing. “ you pointed to the broken glass. He frowned, looking down a bit guilty. 

“Hey it’s fine. These people need attention now. The poison is a lot like a paralysis toxin. It’s curable, but they need help now.” the blaring of the sirens outside alerted you that help was finally on its way. You pressed your head to the floor, completely exhausted. 

“Hey! You okay?” he moved closer and you sighed. “Yeah..just in shock. With all the craziness that happens in this city you would I’d be used to it by now.” He gave a small smile, pressing a hand to your back. Someone burst through the door and you saw cops, medics and reporters filing in. 

“Flash!” one of the detectives shouted. The speedster stood up shaking his head. “She got away. I couldn’t stop her.” The older male speaking to him just gave an encouraging pat.

“Don’t worry about it. Iris was frantic, she said you were down. “ Barry nodded. “Yeah I was, I’m positive that meta  got me. Then I just woke up and this woman was..” his eyes turned and you were no longer there.

“Where did she go?” he made a full circle, trying to pick your face out into the crowd. You were nowhere to be found. 

“We can figure that out later, right now that crazy meta is our main priority.” Joe commented. Barry nodded a bit distracted. “Yeah..” 

“That was close.” you huffed, leaning on a nearby building. The green liquid that was running through your veins was disappearing slowly. When it was completely gone, you stood up straight, moving in the direction of the hospital. 

~~~~~

“Your vitals are fine, not even a spec of the spores.You’ll be fine.” Barry rolled down his sleeve, still trying to put the pieces together. Caitlin pulled off her gloves, disposing of them into the bin. “This doesn’t make sense, she got me. I should still be out. And all those other people, they woke up too, no sign of the poison. It doesn’t add up.”

“There was someone else there. Maybe she knows what happened. When I was calling for you, she said not to worry, just to call the police.” Iris butted in. 

“Do you think maybe she's a meta too?” Cisco questioned sucking a lollipop. 

“It would make sense. That’s the only explanation. If she did take in that poison, she could be somewhere suffering. That level would be too much, especially since you weren’t the only one she helped.” Caitlin informed. 

“Who is a meta?” Harry said walking in with his gun. 

“Thanks for finally joining us Harry, you know we could have used your help on this one.”

“I’m here now Ramon, who are we looking for?” He asked. 

“A woman, I think she might be in danger. I’ll go to CCPD and get a sketch so you can run it through facial recognition. “

Cisco nodded. “Good plan, in the meantime we’ll work on catching our little gem thief.” Caitlin smiled. “I’d think by now you’d have a name for her. “Cisco grumbled under his breath, shoving the sweet back in his mouth.

~~~

“And on other news, The Flash has done it again. The thief has been apprehended and the gem safely tucked back into its home at Central City’s museum. “ you smiled looking at the television braced on the wall in your patient’s room. “I knew the Flash would do it!” the girl in the bed said happily. “When I get older, I’ll be just like him.” she cheered. She had a Flash figurine clutched into her hand. “Just work on getting stronger, then you can apply to be a superhero.” you teased. She just smiled. You watched the exhaustion in her eyes. “You need to stop getting so worked up Sarah, it’s not good for you.” she just grinned at you. “I can’t help it. “ 

She was one of your regulars, a cancer patient. The disease had long taken away all her hair. You always wondered how she managed to still smile so brightly when her days were numbered. You took her hand, giving a warm smile. Taking a deep breath you closed your eyes, trying to take away as much of her illness into your body. After a few seconds you hunched forward, breathing heavily. Her eyes closed slowly, falling asleep. You pulled your hand away reluctantly. 

“It’s getting harder..” you noted. 

“Ms. (Y/N), you have visitors.” your eyes lifted to the head nurse. You nodded, trying to put yourself together as you walked out with her. You slid your patient's door close, meeting a few unfamiliar faces. One of the males was smiling and you with so much familiarity, as if he knew you. The nurse left and you guided them to your office. When you all got in you offered for them to take a seat.

“What can I do for you?” The male who was still beaming held out his hand. 

“I’m Barry Allen, I work for CCPD. This is Detective Joe West, Cisco Ramon and Dr. Caitlin Snow.”  There was another guy standing with his head bent. His dark clothing and cap made you a bit weary. Still, you greeted everyone with a smile. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure? “ Barry stepped closer. “We were investigating the crime that took place today, with the robbery at the museum.”

“Ahh, yes. I saw The Flash caught the person who did it. He’s such an inspiration, that guy. I was actually just talking about him with one of my patients.” 

“That’s what we needed to speak to you about, we have witnesses that put you at the scene. We’re just trying to fill in some blanks.” Detective West interjected. You narrowed your eyes.

“I’m not sure how I can help, I was hiding the entire time. I didn’t even get a look at the woman who attacked.”

“Let’s stop wasting time and get to the point.” the guy with the cap stormed over to you raising a watch in front of your body. You flinched when it started to go off. Red lights flaring. 

“You’re a metahuman.” he stated. You panicked, stumbling back into the wall. Your eyes darted around the room, raising your hands defensively. 

“W-Who the hell are you people, what do you want!” 

“Way to go Harry you scared her!” Cisco yelled. 

Barry moved over raising his hand. “Listen, we’re not here to hurt you believe me.” he sounded so sincere. Yet, you heard those words before. 

“I’m not going to be some experiment locked up in a prison! I haven’t hurt anyone.” Barry nodded.

“You’re right you didn’t hurt anyone, you saved them. Isn’t that right?” you just stared at him. You couldn’t remember him at the museum, so how did he know.

“H-Have we met before?” you asked. Something about him was so familiar, you couldn’t put you finger on it. 

“N-No we uhh..” he was stumbling over his words.

“Code red!!” someone yelled outside. Your eyes shifted at the commotion. 

“Patient five is convulsing. “ your eyes widened. “Sarah!!” you pushed passed the individuals, diving out the room. When you got to her room she was writhing on the bed, eyes still tightly shut. The machines were going crazy. 

“We need to stabilize her!” you instructed the other nurses to get her usual medication. They ran out, scrambling to recover what was needed. Barry and the others were now standing out there, watching with dread as the girl continued to beat against the bed. Tears were gathering in your eyes. 

If she didn’t stabilize soon there was a good chance she wouldn’t make it through the night. You glanced back at Barry, before looking at Sarah. You needed to help her, even if it meant they would find out your secret. You pressed both your hands to her head. Barry couldn’t believe what he was seeing. A golden glow was emitting from her head, into your hands. He watched the light travel all the way up to your neck. 

“S-She’s killing herself!!” Caitlin cried. Barry moved forward to stop you but you turned to him, eyes now glowing a bright yellow light

“STAY BACK!” your voice didn’t even sound like your own, it was distorted. When the light finally dissipated, you shuffled back and the heart monitors suddenly returned to normal. A bunch of doctors rushed in, checking her signs. “S-She’s stable again.” one of them stated. You nodded. “Keep track to ensure it doesn’t raise again.” the nurse present did just that. It took you a moment to regain your focus, when you did they were all looking at you in awe. 

“We have a lot to talk about. “ the man with the cap said. You gave a reluctant nod, heaving as you guided them out.

[pllandcompany]

I Choose You

Summary: Hospital AU! A look into how Roman and Logan’s relationship developed.

Pairings: Pre-romantic into Romantic Logince, background QPP Moxiety

Warnings: discussion of medical procedures, blood mention, violence/shooting mention, mention of drug use/addiction, anxiety, crying, a (and one almost) kiss

Tagged:  @shxtxpp @apologieslogan  @crofters-jam @asylia5911 @ab-artist @band-be-boss-blog @unbefuckinglieveable@flyingfreeyt @thecatchat @thefallendog @backatthebein @insufferablegayastronaut

Notes: Guess who’s back at it again after months of writer’s block?? I’ve wanted to write this story for a while. It does reference a few other fics I’ve written in this AU so here, here, and here are the links for those stories if you want more context as the events of this story are not in order of how they happened based on the established timeline. Also, heads up that I’ve only linked the first part of Out Loud (last link) and Don’t You Remember (second link) but If you want full details (or if you just love my writing so much, insert eye roll here), go to my masterlist and read all of the parts. Still, it should be fairly clear even without reading the previous stories. Okay! Enough talking! Enjoy!

Why wasn’t he awake?

That deadly, nerve-wracking, gut-twisting question had been bouncing around Dr. Roman Courtland’s mind for five days now. The deadline of the withdrawal of care date loomed over his head like a terrorizing and expansive storm ready to break open at any moment. Fourteen days was just simply not enough time. Did the man have no hope?

Note to self: Remind Logan to change that stupidly short time period when he wakes up.

In all actuality, Logan being in a coma was not the expected outcome. It was a nearly perfect surgery. The bleeding was minimal and deftly controlled by his swift hand when it occurred. There was no sign of post-operative stroke or brain death. He should be awake. Yet there Logan lay as still and pale as driven snow, the steady beep of the machines being the only sign of life in the room. It shouldn’t be the case, but it was and Roman was damned determined to find out why. This wasn’t just any patient. No, this was a colleague and a gifted one at that; Logan was quite possibly the most brilliant cardio-thoracic surgeons this hospital had ever seen. Not only was this a professional point of pride, Logan was also the man who saved his brother’s life while simultaneously putting up with his relentless torment the entire time Remy was hospitalized. Roman knew he had been unfair to the surgeon, cruel even and he has certainly spent an exorbitant amount of energy trying to make up for that fact since, including personally taking on his case when Logan turned up with a brain tumor. Shortly before his diagnosis, the two finally found themselves on better terms and Roman was…looking forward to getting to know the doctor more, figure out what truly makes him tick. Now he was potentially the surgeon responsible for destroying that precious of a mind, for squandering the opportunity to…learn more about Logan? Roman refused to accept that reality. Logan Taylor was going to wake up if he had any say in it. He had to; Roman wasn’t ready to lose him-

“Roman? What are you still doing here?”

Patton. Damn it. “Looking over Logan’s post-op scans.” Roman felt the deep sigh more than he heard it.

“For the hundredth time, I bet. Roman, take a break, please. You have to step away at least for a moment. Have you even eaten anything?”

“Have I figured this out yet? Then the answer is no and I’m not leaving until that changes.” A small pang of guilt tightened Roman’s chest briefly. Yelling at Patton was like kicking a puppy, a completely undeserved action. As usual, Patton didn’t even seem fazed which only served to make the neurosurgeon feel worse. Instead, he simply sat across from the distraught doctor, empathy shining in his eyes.

“Roman, you can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

“Then what the hell else am I supposed to do?!” Roman flailed his arms in sheer frustration, the force of action flinging the scans everywhere. He roughly ran a shaky hand through his hair and breathed deeply, trying to control himself while Patton quietly picked up the discarded films.

“I wish I could tell you what to do, Roman. I don’t know how to fix Logan. But I do know you’re not going to find the answer like this. Please take a break. Get some sleep. Come at this again in the morning.”

Roman buried his head into his hands. “What if something happens when I walk away? What if he gets worse and I’m not here to stop it? What if I can’t figure this out and I…and we lose him?” Patton gently took Roman’s hands out of his hair and smoothed the wavy locks down, a solemn yet knowing smile playing on his lips.

“I know you’re scared. I am too. But we don’t get to know what’s going to happen sometimes. All we can do is our best. Which you can’t do if you’re exhausted. So, come with me. We’re going to have dinner and then you’re going to an on-call room to lie down. You don’t have to sleep. You can ramble all the medicine at me that you want, every detail. Maybe then we can come up with something together. How does that sound?” Roman nodded silently, allowing Patton to lead him out of his office.

An hour and a sandwich later, Roman was out like a light and Patton was quietly sneaking out of the on-call room.

Mission successful.

****

“Good morning, nerd!”

God, Roman was insufferable. Logan let out a soul-exiting sigh. “Dr. Courtland, must you insist on calling me that?”

“Oh, don’t get your briefs in a twist, Dr. Taylor; you know I tease only out of love.” Logan hoped the tenseness in his shoulders wasn’t noticeable.

There he was using that word around him again.

“You cannot possibly love me. We’ve only known each other a few months. Besides, I seem to recall you having a certain disdain for me when I first arrived here. It would be impossible for that to have resolved itself in totality so soon.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Roman stop and turn back to him. Suddenly, Logan was grateful they were the only two in the lounge.

“Logan…you still think so ill of me?” The cardiologist barely held back the gasp that bubbled in his throat at the hurt look on the neurosurgeon’s face.

“No…not of you?”

“Then of yourself?” Roman sat next to Logan, setting his thigh ablaze when they brushed against each other. Logan hesitated for a moment as his mind struggled to find the best way to answer.

“That’s not it either. I simply meant that we are very different people with not much in common. I’m not certain as to how we will coalesce outside of being coworkers.” If we will.

“Well, that isn’t always a negative thing. I like that we’re different. Means there’s much we can learn from each other.”

“Of course. Our specialties differ greatly; there’s bound to be new information learned between us.” Roman chuckled warmly. 

“While I find your habit of taking things literally quite refreshing, in this case it led you astray. You’re so much more than the job, Lo. You are strong and wise, brilliant and beautifully complicated in ways I’d like to know more about. If you’d let me that is.” The neurosurgeon’s face held so much hope, it metaphorically made Logan’s heart just…stop. How ironic that he, the cardio-thoracic surgeon would be the one to need pulmonary resuscitation from just one look from the towheaded neurosurgeon. ​ It just wasn’t reasonable how one person could be so disarming, so confounding, so attractive…

Logan had to get out of there.

“Ah! Yes, well, then I concede to your point, Dr. Courtland. Fare-farewell.” The older doctor jumped up like a jack in the box and practically sprinted out of the room, the edge of his white coat narrowly missing Roman’s face. 

It didn’t bother him too much once he realized that Logan hadn’t said no.

****

“Okay, Logan. Let’s try this again. Pick up the pencil and write your name.” Logan stared at the yellow No. 2 as if it would jump up and slap him at any moment. “Can we go back to the ball?”

Roman almost chuckled. “You’ve already done that portion. Your grip strength is greatly improved. Now we need to build your prehensile strength back. Go ahead, pick up the pencil. Just try.”

After a few tense moments, Logan finally held the writing instrument. His heart pounded with anticipation as he gingerly placed the tip to the paper in front of him. He pressed down ever so slightly and began to write his name.

He didn’t make it through the ‘g’ before the force of his tremor snapped the graphite.

In a fit of pure rage, Logan swiftly grabbed the pencil in his left hand and threw it across the room. It sailed past Roman’s ear so close he felt the wind move his hair. Before he could react, Logan was standing and tossing his chair across the room. A loud clattering sound stunned Roman into stock still reticence, not daring to test the cardiologist in this state.

“Damn it! Damn it all to hell!”

“Logan, just try to stay calm- “

“No, you said this would work! Yet it’s been a month and I still can’t use my hand! An entire month and I still can’t operate because you make promises you can’t keep!” Silence. “I’m sorry. That was…an unbecoming display.” He moved to restore the room to its original order but Roman intercepted him. He placed two warm hands on Logan’s shoulders, drawing a gasp from the sudden contact.

“You don’t have to apologize, Logan. I understand. I’m surprised you’ve held it together this long.”

Logan refused to make eye contact with Roman. “I still should not have behaved in that manner. Especially after everything you’ve done for me, I shouldn’t be lashing out at you, I am alive because of you, I should just be grateful for that- “

“Dr. Taylor, will you please look at me?” When Logan didn’t move, Roman took his hand under the surgeon’s chin and gently lifted his head. His heart nearly broke at the shattered look on Logan’s face. “See? I’m not mad. What you’re feeling is normal because what you’re going through is hard. It’s okay to get frustrated.” Roman pushed back a lock of the cardiologist’s dark hair and Logan’s eyes closed, leaning into the touch. His head dropped alarmingly close to Roman’s forehead and the neurosurgeon shifted to hold his face with both hands. Logan’s lips parted and his gaze suddenly changed to something…insistent, almost desperate. The question he was asking was obvious and oh, how Roman wanted to acquiesce. Maybe he could, maybe it would be okay…no, it wouldn’t be right; Logan was his very vulnerable patient right now and his coworker. Complicated wouldn’t even begin to describe the nature of their involvement. Roman took a step back and cleared his throat, turning to grab the chair and returned it to the table.

“Look, your hand works. You just have to remind your brilliant brain that it does. And it takes time to build new neural pathways so…try again. Write your name, as much as you can.” Logan swallowed tensely, seating himself once again in the chair. He closed his eyes in a silent prayer, willing the pressure in his chest to release. He looked when he felt velvet skin against the back of his hand: Roman was holding it. Smiling gently at the supportive touch, he picked up the second pencil Roman had conjured from his white coat.

This time, he made it through the ‘g.’

****

“Tell me a secret.”

“…what?”

“We’re getting to know each other. Setting aside our differences, becoming…friends. Friends tell each other things so…tell me a secret.”

“We are sitting on a bench on our lunch break in the middle of our workday. What about this setting makes you suddenly want to have an intimate conversation?”

“Deflecting…”

“Oh, for heavens’ sake, fine!”

“…Paging Dr. Taylor? Are you actually going to say something?”

“I…I want children. Or at least a child. I want to be a father.”

“Well, that’s a mighty forward proposition.”

“Dr. Courtland…”

“Oh, hush now, you know I’m kidding! But why is that such a secret?”

“Because no one expects it of me. People see me as cold and emotionless; no one would think me fit to be a father, much less have a desire to raise children. I’m not like Patton; I don’t seem like ‘the type,’ if you will.”

“I don’t agree with that at all. I think you’d make an excellent father. You’re very practical and you’re extremely dedicated to your patients. There’s no way that wouldn’t translate over into being a parent.”

“Oh…well, uh, thank you. I, uh, believe it is your turn.”

“…I have a twin.”

“In addition to your four other brothers?”

“No, he’s one of the five of us. His name is…was Remus.”

“Was?”

“Truth be told, I don’t know if I should be saying is or was about him. I don’t even know if he’s alive or not.”

“Roman…”

“He was a surgeon in the military. Reconstructive surgery was technically his specialty but over there he functioned mostly as a trauma surgeon. He loved it; he was never phased by gruesome injuries or the horrors of combat. He just did his job saving as many lives as he could so they could go on to keep ours back home safe. One day, their compound was raided and…he was never heard from again. A lot of soldiers died that day but…they never found his body.”

“Oh, Roman…you have my deepest condolences. The amount of grief you’ve had to endure…it’s quite unfair.”

“Don’t worry, Specs. I’m all right. I know it may sound…completely ridiculous but he could still be alive. It’s one of the few things I still hope for…that one day I’ll see my brother again.”

“I understand even more why you’re so protective of the brothers you have here now.”

“Congratulations, Doctor. You just figured out why we tell each other secrets.”

****

The first thing Roman felt when he woke up was pain. Pain in his chest, pain in his throat, God, it felt like he was choking on something-

“Roman? Roman, calm down, don’t fight the intubation, okay? We’ll get it out, just hold on.” That sounded like Virgil, why was Virgil taking him off a vent?

Oh. Right. He got shot.

He got shot and almost died.

He got shot and needed surgery. He had just had surgery to take a bullet out of his chest. Chest…cardiovascular…where was Logan?

Roman knew he wouldn’t be able to get much out at first, but he had to try. He took a breath that rattled in his throat and attempted to speak. “Lo…Lo-”

“Shh, shh, don’t try to talk, Ro. I know who you want; I’ll go get him.” Virgil turned to leave, not even making it one step before he was stopped short by a vice-like grip on his wrist. He turned back to see Roman staring at him with wide eyes, almost pleading with him to understand. Virgil nodded; the message clearly received.

“I know you’re grateful. I’m not hurt. I’m just…really glad to see you make it, man.” Virgil left before anyone could acknowledge the tears threatening to stain his face and Roman found that being alone was scarier than it should be. After all, he had no idea where the shooter was; Logan could have hidden him away to fix him, he could still be here somewhere, lurking, waiting to take another shot that would surely end his life this time-

“Roman? Calm down, your heart rate is way too high. Just breathe, you’re safe.” The neurosurgeon’s eyes met with two dark pools of worry and he locked onto them, Logan urging him to match his breathing. “That’s right; breathe with me. You’re safe. We’re safe right now.” Once Roman’s chest evened out, Logan reached over and grabbed a paper cup full of lukewarm water and handed it to the eager patient.

“Don’t drink too fast, Roman. Slow sips. There you go.” A moment of silence passed. “I’m sorry it’s not cold, I couldn’t seem to locate any ice.”

“The…the shooter-”

“Dead.” Logan’s tone was abrupt and cold. “The shooter is dead; you don’t have to worry about him any longer.”

Roman nodded slowly to not aggravate his already sore body any further. “You saved me.”

Logan nodded absently, staring a hole into the linoleum floor. “I know.”

“Then you know…you know I cannot thank you enough- “

“How dare you?” Logan whispered softly.

“Wh- what?”

“How dare you! How dare you just…waltz into my life and torture me and make me hate you then apologize and befriend me and make me respect you?”

Roman’s eyes widened in shock. “I-I’m sorry- “

“No! No, you do not get to apologize because…because you don’t even leave it there; I can’t just respect you, you then start to make me like you and want you around and want to be near you and then, oh God, you even go as far as to make me fall for you! And just when I figure that out, just when I’m finally able to admit the depth of my feelings for you to myself, just when I finally muster up the courage to even consider telling you about how I…feel, then you decide to go and almost die on me?! And on top of it, you make me be the one to have to save you! How DARE YOU?!”

The entire room stuttered to a halt, save for Logan’s ragged breathing. He was outright crying at this point and quite honestly, Roman wasn’t far behind him. “Logan…I’m so sorry- “

“Shut up! Just shut up! Please just…just tell me you want me too. Tell me I’m not crazy. Tell me that I don’t ever have to live without you because today I learned that losing you feels far too similarly to dying myself so if that is not the case…tell me now so I can figure out how to survive.” A long, tense, quiet moment passed before either of them spoke again.

“Logan,” Roman coughed abruptly, wincing as the motion sent shockwaves of pain through his ribs. He cleared his abused throat and tried again. “Logan, look at me.” The dark-haired surgeon looked up into the soulful eyes of the injured man laying in the hospital bed below him.

“Roman, please,” he pleaded, his voice impossibly soft.

“You can survive without me…but I promise you, as long as I am alive, you will not ever have to.” Logan’s head shot up and before he could control himself, he launched into the bed with Roman, just barely remembering to avoid his ribs and all the wires attached to him. He mumbled a hushed prayer of thank you, thank you, thank you as he curled himself into the space between Roman’s body and the railing of the bed. Roman took a moment to settle before he rested his head against the taller man’s shoulder, exhaustion beginning to blur out the edges of his vision. Logan kissed the crown of his head and wrapped his arms around his newfound love in the gentlest protective hold he could muster, allowing the neurosurgeon to succumb to sleep.

“Rest, Roman. I have you. You are safe. You’re safe with me.”

****

Dr. Picani was a typically patient man but this? This argument he was deeply tired of.

“What I fail to understand is how I continually prove myself to be trustworthy over and over again and you continually shut me out!”

“It is not about you, Roman.”

“Then what is it about? Why wouldn’t you tell me about something like this?”

“I’m telling you now!”

“Yeah, two weeks after the fact and I technically had to hear about it from Virgil!”

“Have you considered that. just maybe, I felt some shame? I had achieved six months of solid sobriety and I nearly threw all of that away in mere minutes!”

“You were obviously triggered by something.”

“I was weak! I failed to keep myself together yet again! And if it weren’t for Virgil dragging me to a meeting and convincing me to tell you, I’d probably still be failing.” Struggling doesn’t make you weak, Logan. The therapist scribbled the thought in his notebook, making a reminder to bring that point up later. He was about to interject when he realized that for the first time in a few minutes, there was silence. Dr. Picani’s head snapped up at the sudden quiet to see Roman’s eyes rapidly filling with tears. Well, this is unexpected.

“Roman? What’s wrong? Say what you’re thinking.”

“I…am I the trigger? Have I pushed you too far?” Good job, Roman, the therapist praised silently, way to take ownership!

Logan’s stomach churned guiltily at the tentative question. “No. You have gotten so much better about that. You did nothing wrong, you are perfect, it’s me, I am…broken.” Logan cursed himself internally for how his voice cracked at the end of his sentence, but he had to keep going. “I want to be good enough for you, but I constantly fail you and I don’t want you to see it. But I fear that one day you will and the fact that I love you won’t be enough to make you stay.” And good job being honest about your fears, Logan. These two have come so far.

While Roman knew just how necessary it was for Logan to admit how he felt, God, how it broke Roman’s heart. He reached out slowly and touched Logan’s hand, chest tightening even more when he felt the muscles jump under his palm. He breathed a sigh of relief when the brunette managed to make eye contact with him, the shared gaze giving him the courage to continue.

“Logan, you’re forgetting one very important thing. I love you too. I don’t want you to be perfect. I want you to be you. Yes, you are strong and brilliant, and I love when you are confident and at your best. But I don’t just love you then. I also love you when you’re hurt, when you’re scared, when you’re less than perfect. Lord knows that I am all those things and you don’t shy away from any of that with me. We’re all a little bit broken but we need each other to keep ourselves together. So, yes, I want you to be strong and healthy but if you can’t be? If it gets hard for you to be that? I still want you.”

“All of me?” Logan whispered.

“The whole damn thing.” Roman paused suddenly, a moment of deliberation passing through his eyes. Logan watched as he seemed to come to some sort of internal decision. He felt the grip on his hand tighten into a gentle squeeze…and then gasped as he watched Roman slide off the couch they shared and drop to one knee.

“Oh my God,” Logan choked out. A loud clatter sounded in front of them as Emile dropped his notebook, both hands flying up to either side of his face,

“Oh my God!” Roman chuckled damply at the poorly contained squeal.

“Save it for the end, Picani.” He pulled out a small black box from his pocket, relishing in the way Logan’s eyes lit up at the sight of it. “I’ve been carrying around this thing for weeks wondering when the right time to ask you was, but truth be told, I could have done it anytime. I didn’t have to wait for some perfect moment because every moment is perfect with you. An appropriate time period in our relationship didn’t need to pass because every minute that goes by is another minute that I am undoubtedly grateful to have spent with you. I didn’t need a counselor to tell me if I’m making the right decision. I just need to look at you and see that all my futures, all my forevers and tomorrows live in your eyes. You are the answer to every question I’ve ever had, even the ones I didn’t know I was asking. So today, I am not proposing marriage. I am affirming my sure commitment to you for the rest of my life. The ring is yours today, tomorrow, and for years to come. There’s no time limit, no expiration date. All you have to do is take it when you’re ready.”

Logan sat in stunned silence as his mind turned over every word of Roman’s confession. Slowly taking the sapphire studded ring from the now open box, he turned it over in his fingers and watched as the light danced with the gems, searching the depths of his heart for any hesitation. He handed the ring back to Roman and slowly turned his hand over, palm facing down.

“Put it on me. I’m ready.”

The squeal that Dr. Picani let out threatened to break glass.

****

“Patton, I must insist that you let go of me before you completely cut off my oxygen supply!"

Patton somehow managed to squeeze Logan even tighter for the briefest of seconds before releasing him.

“Sorry, Doc, I’m just so darned excited for you both! Virgil, isn’t it just amazing? They’re getting married!” Virgil chuckled at the giddy look on Patton’s face.

“I swear, you are a living heart eyes emoji. And yeah, it’s pretty damn cool considering you guys hated each other when you met.”

“My God, you would bring that up,” Roman rolled his eyes as Logan and Patton collectively groaned. Patton delivered a playful smack to Virgil’s arm.

“Virgil! Leave them alone, they’re in love now.” Virgil raised an eyebrow down at his partner’s glossy eyes, almost feverish with excitement and something close to…envy? He elected not to comment as turned to embrace the newly engaged pair one more time.

“Whatever, I know the truth. But seriously, congratulations. I’m sorry I’ve gotta run, I’m assisting on a general surgery case and I’ve gotta change out of chief attire. I’ll see you both later this week, celebratory sushi? Friday night?”

“You bet, Tickle-Me-Emo!” Virgil glared at the nickname as he disappeared into the bathroom of the attendings’ lounge. Patton went in for the hundredth hug and jumped as his pager suddenly went off.

“Uh oh, gotta run, looks like a crash C-section. Congrats to you both again! Bye!” he shouted boisterously as he ran down the hallway.

“I’m afraid I must depart as well, my love. It does not inspire respect in my residents if I’m late for rounds.” Roman beamed at the cardiac surgeon, seemingly unaware of anything he just said. “What?” Logan asked hotly.

“You called me your love. You claimed me.” Embarrassment curled up Logan’s neck as he shook his head fondly and leaned in to kiss his now fiancée.

“You are so endearingly sentimental. I will see you at home, my love.” He smirked as he walked out of the door at the way Roman’s knees seemed to buckle just the smallest amount. The neurosurgeon stood in the middle of the room chuckling to himself when he heard a low, smooth voice speak up behind him.

“You’re engaged?” Roman turned around, his face falling in sympathy at the person behind him.

“Oh, Declan…yes. Yes, I am.” The fellow surgeon turned his face to the side to hide his tears, displaying the long scar that ran down the left side of his face. Without warning, he was suddenly being embraced by Roman who seemed to be unable to stop his own tears as they soaked the corner of his scrubs.

“You know, if Remus were here and we weren’t already married by now, we could have planned a double wedding,” Declan murmured.

“He would have loved that. He loved you so much.” Declan pulled away, his glance suddenly dropping to the floor.

“I wish I could tell you what happened to him.” Roman placed a hand on the orthopedic surgeon’s shoulder.

“It’s okay. I know you weren’t there. You couldn’t have done anything to change it.” Declan smiled weakly, nodding a silent goodbye before leaving the room. He paused at the doorway facing the empty hallway.

“Congratulations. Really, you deserve to be happy.” Roman let out a small sob as Declan left, swiftly brushing the tears away before heading to his own rounds.

Neither of them remembered that Virgil was in the bathroom, listening to their entire conversation…and absolutely seething with fury.

[oh-theatre]

Objection!: Chapter 18

Chapter title: Two Ways Home

A/n:  WE ARE BACK IN THE COURTROOM BBY!!! I lovE IT. And them I did it btw! I did the kiss ™ t-the one in the snow?? Yes, that one because it melts my heart ahahah the irony. Anyway, they are baby and I love them and would die for them. Ughhh I hope you enjoy I know how bad this is but I love writing so hopefully idk?? leave me some comments!! I'm a mess sorry

oh god they're moving too fast arent they..sihiawdhiw i always do this

First | Previous | Next

words: 4034

summary: The gang returns to court!

pairings: Eventual logicality, prinxiety, platonic demus, romantic remile

warnings: Murder mention, child murder, Law and Courtroom, swearing, blood, hospital, crime scene,  murder, gun mention, guns, swearing, abuse, graphic descriptions, tickling mention

Ao3 Link  

“You're late” Virgil huffs opening the door, Roman presses forward, an apologetic smile falls upon his face. “Come on princey” He says, taking the judges hand leading him into the house. “Go help Dee pick a movie, I need to finish up a few things and then ill make some snacks,” Virgil says trying to go, leaving Roman but the judge isn't that easily shooed.

“Woah slow down...Virge, is everything ok?” He takes his hand gently, Virgil turns to him matching the steady beat of Roman's heart, he nods. “Ok, I'll go help with the movie and you?” He squeezes the detective's hand “Take a breather” Virgil does just that simultaneously resisting the urge to lean forward and connect their lips. What is wrong with me?

“He's waiting” Virgil cocks his head towards the coach, Roman nods smirking, his nose scrunching quickly. He scans Virgil once more before feeling it safe to retreat to the couch, a small figure already enveloped in a mountain of blankets lays. Damian quickly scrambles to a more conscious state as his small eyes fall upon Roman.

“RoRo!” He squeals jumping into the judge's arms. Ignoring the slight pain that seizes his body he hugs back, embracing the child he holds so dearly. “I missed you!” He pulls away still clinging to Roman's neck. Roman smiles at him, unable to allow his shiny pearls to gleam. He's just so happy. The little boy wriggles impatiently in his arms, playing with Romans more than fluffy hair, it bounces under Damian's touch.

“I missed you too niño!” Roman assures, ruffling the younger boy's hair. He laughs falling back onto the couch, he grabs the remote handing it happily to Roman, he wriggles comfortable in his blanket cuddling up to Roman. “What's the mood for tonight?” He wonders opening up Netflix on TV, Damian shrugs, his eyes entranced.

“Christmas!” He exclaims throwing his hands in the air, missing Romans face by an inch “It's snowing!” He marvels looking towards the window, indeed it was. It fell slowly but it seemed the November air had cooled away as the light breeze of winter took its place, ready to cover the world in a soft layer of possibility.  He could see it, he hadn't meant to but his mind was not his own. The image of squealing laughter as he raced down a snowy hill, Damian in front of him holding on for dear life.

“It is Dee!” Virgil affirms, he stands over the couch his hand ruffling Damian's hair. The little boy crawls up on his father, Virgil situating him on his shoulder taking him to the window. Damian places his hand across the frosted glass, astonished laughter as it chills him. Roman stands to join them, Damian waves to the unknown hoping a shimmer of something might greet him back. Someone, something out there will grant his ever so silent hopes.

“Bye-bye snow,” He says, his fists closing quickly as he waves goodbye. Roman chuckles allowing Virgil to swift past him, landing on the couch. Damian snuggles once more under his mountain of blankets allowing the warm pressure to calm him. Roman sits next to them handing the remote to Virgil, giving him full control. He takes it his hands tracing the buttons carefully, the bumpy exterior awakening him.

“Thanks,” He says, he looks to Damian who watches the blank screen with intent “What are we watching buddy?” Damian shrugs fully morphing into his father, clearly seeking an adoring hold from the man. Virgil allows him now checking on Roman. “Any requests?”

“How about ‘Elf’?” Roman suggests, Virgil watches him hesitant “Its a classic! You just gotta...believe” He teases, Damian cheers clapping his hands together. Virgil shakes his head knowing that what the child wished the child gets.

“Elf! Elf!” He chants, Roman points towards him looking at Virgil. He groans finding the movie quickly. It starts slowly and Roman has trouble focusing, the soft hum of the radiator, the awfully quick noises from Damian as he reacts to everything. It feels more natural as they get into it, clearly, Virgil had a long day. On multiple occasions, his head would fall slightly onto Roman's shoulder before jerking awake. Roman didn't mind, he even encouraged it once when it was maybe too much.

“Virge, rest, I've got Dee” Roman whispers, Virgil blinks at the reflection of the movie playing. He sniffled nodding, Roman pushes his head carefully onto his shoulder letting him warm up to the judge. Virgil was asleep in minute, steady breathing as his chest would rise. The movie finished quickly and it seemed the Tormine family was fast asleep. Damian had clearly been consumed by his mountain of blankets and snored sweetly. Virgil had clutched to Roman his presence soft on the judge. Oh, woe is Roman as he stirs the detective awake, his soft face bubbling as his eyes adjust to the outside world. “Sorry just...the movies over and..” He pushes Virgil's ruffled hair away from his eyes. “Thought you might want to sleep in your own bed” Virgil yawns nodding, he struggles to get up but soon enough is waddling away, Roman laughs watching him go. He wraps Damian up his arms watching as Virgil returns.

“I forgot my son” He mumbles, Roman stifles a wheeze placing Damian gently in Virgil's arms. “Thanks,” He says, Roman nods their eyes meet. The tired storm behind Virgil's eyes intriguing the fading flame in Romans. “Thanks for…” He starts slowly, getting closer to Roman's mouth. “Tonight” He whispers meeting Roman's lips, their eyes closing in unison. A little groan from Damian pulling them apart. “See you tomorrow Ro” Virgil says disappearing into his room

“See you...tomorrow,” He says, the tickling sensation upon his lips leaving a satisfactory mark. “Virgil” He muses, he collects his things making as little noise as possible. Closing the door behind him, the silent night falls on him only increasing the volume of his thoughts.

This has to be a dream

~~~

“We are back in the courtroom” Patton taps his desk excitedly, the echo ringing through the room. He shuffles through his papers a familiar buzz in his heart as the door opens behind him, the urge to turn his head watch who enters overwhelming him. Hoping, almost praying its a certain lawyer. His urges win however as he watches Logan diligently speaking to Reeve as he makes his way down the aisle, the young intern frantically taking notes. He blushes as if a teenager once more focusing back towards the empty witness stand, feeling a light brush of air while Logan walks by, taking his place on the opposite end of the courtroom.

“Your client” Patton smiles at George as Virgil and Remy lead him in, tight hold on his constraints of a prison. They take him to his end of the desk, handcuffing him to the table. He's silent as he moves, little to do about anything as the world moves on without him. It almost makes Patton sad to watch, and harder to read.

“Thanks, guys,” He says, a light squeeze to Virgil's arm as he passes, receiving a lingering feeling as the detective walks away. Virgil watches him for a moment but retreats to his chair.

“Mr.Hart?” Patton looks up smiling at a young intern watching him expectantly. “Mr.Tolentino wanted me to let you-

“You can just call him Logan,” Patton says, his smile remains placated. Reeve fidgets uncomfortably but nods as he continues on.

“Um...Logan just wanted to let you know that he is going forward with calling Annie to the stand.” Patton bites his cheek but nods, his smile fades staying resolved. “He has also decided to call Brandon to the stand, and he was wondering whether you were calling Carlton” Reeve finishes feeling as if the words were not his own. Patton shakes his head softly, he looks to Logan who seems to be buried in mountains of work, he hides a disappointed pout.

“Yes...I'm sorry Brandon? Brandon Hoff?” Patton checks, looking back to where two children sit where their mother, all sadly eyeing George. Reeve nods, Patton takes a deep breath but stretches a pursed smile. “Great thanks Reeve,” He says, the intern scurries away, himself betrayed by his words. He doesn't agree with Logan's methods but he is a good lawyer...but Patton is too. He re-focuses taking a seat next to Logan. Soon the trial begins and Patton is instructed to call his first witness.

“The defense call detective Carlton to the stand” Patton calls, feeling as discouraged as before. He avoids looking to Logan, knowing the usual hopeful glance the pair shares wouldn't be returned today. Once he's sworn in Patton begins, knowing his intuition could fail him he simply prays. Prays that Carlton, that everything he's built this case on...won't fall apart. Please, don't let this man be guilty. “Detective Carlton, you were recently discovered at a hostage scene correct?”

“Objection! Leading the witness” Logan declares, he barely grazes Patton with his eyes, the man's stomach sinks. He knows he shouldn't be thinking about this right now, but...had he done something wrong? Had he shattered everything he had ever built up, his friendship? His trust? Was all of it...the kiss, out of pity?

“Patton?” Roman whispers, Patton jerks back realizing his own condition.

“Detective” He starts, he looks to an unfazed Logan, right there deciding he knows his path. “Do you know this man?” He points to George, a moment of hesitation before the witness sucks in a sharp breath.

“I've never seen that man before” He admits, Patton smirks “In my entire life” He adds, Patton nods satisfied as a tiny groan, ever so slightly escapes Logan's mouth. Check and mate, mister Tolentino. His next move may be deemed risky, and Roman certainly won't enjoy it and yet…

“I want to submit that detective Carlton be admitted as an expert witness” He requests, the room falls silent. Logan, surprisingly, is the first to move. He stands abrupt from his chair and points towards Patton.

“Absolutely not your honor! The man is convicted felon!” He claims, Patton cocks his head, his smirk returning.

“Exactly the reason I propose this, not only is he a convicted felon but one who has admittedly worked with the so-called ‘Alphabet Murderer’. Which means that unless he perjures himself, he knows more than most. More than say...Brandon or Annie Hoff” Patton explains, Roman cant find a rebuttal.

“That's ridiculous” Logan huffs looking to Roman for confirmation “Your honor?”

“Let it be known to the court and jury, detective Carlton is now an expert witness” Roman bangs his gavel, a rush of excitement as it passes through him. Logan glares, his nostrils flaring as he resits himself. Patton wears a triumphant smirk turning back to Carlton. “Watch yourself, detective, one wrong move…” Roman threatens, as his job. Virgil can't help but feel a sense of pride. The judge doesn't get enough credit.

“Thank you, your honor” Patton sighs “Carlton, has mister Hoff ever contacted you or attempted to?” The detective laughs shaking his head, he scans Geroge.

“Him? Please...if he was the murderer, you would know” Carlton scoffs, instantly clutching his throat. Almost surprised by his own words.

“Do you know who the alphabet murderer is?” Patton inquires, the entire room leans forward allowing themselves to dangle at his anticipation

“Absolutely” Carlton grins, Patton digs his nails deep into his palms, stopping just before the skin breaks blood. “Haley Bloomington” He seethes, Virgil and Remy share a look, both with the same idea.

“As in the precinct captain?” So much more happens in Patton's mind, everything falls into place, he feels lightheaded. He looks to Logan, a helpful plea is administered, a stab to the heart as Logan...ignores him.

“That's the one” The one? The one who Patton took all his complaints about Liam to? The one who Patton pleaded, begged for help? All these years-

No, focus.

“Thank you, no further questions,” Patton says “I also suggest that we hold on cross-examination until further notice,” He says before retreating to his seat. Roman watches but nods.

“Court adjourned,” He says in a practical whisper. The jury clears out in whispered murmurs, each giving a look towards Patton as they move through. Patton says a quick goodbye to George as the detectives lead him away, shuffling his papers. He feels the room around him gain quiet until two quick feet make their way out and its just him and Logan. He refuses to look towards him, a mixing bowl of emotions, not sure which recipe to follow.

“Patton” Logan stands at the desk now, across from Patton. The lawyer turns, his brows in a knitted furrow, he tries to scowl but instead places a worried pout.

“Oh, now you-”

“Would you like to go on a date with me on Friday?” Logan wonders, his hands fidgeting carefully behind his back. Patton softens, oh…

“Yes, absolutely” He whispers, Logan purses his lips bouncing on his heel. He nods before carefully leaving the room, the door closing behind him. Patton presses his file against his chest, trying very hard not to swoon. “Yes...absolutely” He repeats, just for himself.

~~~

“And why is that?” Logan wonders straightening his bowtie, he tilts his head as the mirror reflects his image.

“Because this is Patton's first date in almost a million years,” Virgil says from the couch, his position quite extravagant. Roman chuckles from the ground as he plays with Virgil's hanging hair. “This night is for him, I mean seriously...the last person he went out with was-

“Liam” Logan breathes, his strict posture falls as he watches the sky fade. The outer world becomes less prominent as he loses himself in his own mind. Virgil hops from the couch and takes his stance in front of the lawyer, he slaps his hands away instead taking Logan's lopsided bowtie into his own hands, fixing it. The Friday night of the neighborhood dim.  

“Exactly” Virgil pats his chest once he's done, Logan moves onto his hair suddenly feeling his confidence drain with him. He wasn't sure what he was doing, Patton assured him everything was fine but that couldn't be true could it? And that's not what he deserves, if Logan could he would summon a plane to Europe right now. Seat himself first class with Patton by his side, his eyes marveling-

“But isn't a date about two people? About both of us?” Logan genuinely requests. Coming down from dream.

“Not this one dude. This is for Pat” Roman says drumming his fingers in the air. “Sorry, but it just isn't about you tonight.” Roman shrugs, Logan dusts himself off choosing to heed their words, he shows off his outfit carefully. “Two thumbs up from me. Love the vest” Roman compliments

“It looks great” Virgil nods, he fixes one strand of hair before squeezing Logan's shoulders gently. “It'll be great, just...make it great ok? For him?” That's all I wanted to do

“Mmhm” he hums going towards his watch, placing it slinked on his wrist. One more check in the mirror before gathering his coat and things. He wishes he had a bag to carry with him, his phone rings out. “Don't want to be late” he mumbles to himself, he turns to his friends. “Good?” He checks

“Perfect,” They say in unison.

“Perfect!” Patton says in his home, feeling as though time just wasn't enough. “It has to be perfect Em!” He says gathering his keys. “Logan probably thinks me a fool, this is simply to amuse his own ideas” he sighs sadly, knowing how deep this fear runs.

“Surely you don't believe that Pat!” Emile exclaims sitting in front of the couch watching as the twins play in front of him. “You've been friends forever! And Logan asked you, and seemed more than excited to go with you”

“Ugh, I don't know anymore. I mean Em...what am I doing?”

“Going on a date...doi” Remy reminds returning from the bathroom. Patton rolls his eyes playfully.

“Thank you captain obvious!” Patton jokes, Remy blows him a kiss, receiving a swat from Emile. ‘No I mean...what am I doing? I don't have time for this, I have kids...a full-time job. I don't have time or space for heartbreak” He sighs resigned, leaning over the couch.

“Now who says it's going to be heartbreak, Patton?” Emile says as Valerie presents her latest creation. She makes her way to Patton showing him all the same, he picks her up smiling brightly.

“Beautiful Val” He commends, kissing her softly on the forehead as he releases her back to play. She joins her brother Remus in his quest to save the world in lego form. “Ugh, maybe I shouldn't go...so I got caught up with the children or something,” Patton says wistfully, the twin gleam at the idea. The bounce up rushing to their father, enveloping his legs in their tiny arms.

“Papa! You have to go! Mister Logan loves you!” Valerie squeals, Patton blushes picking her up, he boops her nose to which she recoils giggling. Remus jumps around him, poking him gently.

“You have to! Then! Then! Mister Logan can teach me new words!” He claims, Patton laughs picking up Remus next. Emile watches happily, Remy takes his place next to his partner. Remus points to them “Look! Look! Rem and Em will take care of us!” He claims, Patton nods.

“You heard thing two,” Remy says, Patton smirks “We got them Pat” The lawyer smiles gratefully as he hands one of the twins to each of them. He moves to his room finishing up the cleaning as he moves around, wanting the room to be clean for when he returns, to drown himself in his embarrassments. He turns to find the mirror showing him his reflection, had he always looked so tired?

“Hey you,” He says, maybe only slightly joking. “You're going on a date!” He points his fingers wagging. “Oh god, what am I doing?” Patton sighs rubbing his forehead. “You can do this” He laughs, an actual laugh, it's bright. He might be losing his mind, but he plants himself. “Ok Patton, look at you. You've got this, you...deserve this. Well no...you definitely don't-” He groans turning away “Just cancel Pat,” He says his hands shaking over the phone, he just wants it to go well. To see Logan smile, just as he deserves, he wants him happy should that be too much?

“Patton! There's a car in your driveway!” Remy calls from the living room. Well, now or never. He takes his coat and gloves from the stand, walking out. He gives the children two quick kisses on the head before a deep breath reigns him in. His hand circles the cold knob, twisting as he steps into the timid air. Logan steps out of the car, double-taking as he sees Patton in his doorway.

“Oh! I was coming to-” He stops, his eyes trace Patton. “You look...wow” He smiles, Pattons night is made. Just that small twitch of the lip as it moves upwards.

“Well, you look-” Don't make it weird, don't make it weird “Amazing”

Crap

“Thank you” He nods extending his hand, Patton steps into the snow taking it.

Well, here we go.

~~~

“Oh my!” Patton laughs, his hand meeting Logans across the table. “Did he actually?” He checks allowing Logan to comfortably fiddle with his hand. Logan nods affirming his story, the room lights with the candles that float.

“I kid you not, he fell asleep” Logan recalls, Pattons smile only grows. “The case was just that boring I suppose, it really is a Roman thing to do” Logan guesses, Patton takes a sip of his water. Logan does the same with his wine, trying subtlety to get it down.

“Only Roman” Patton smiles, the waiter stops by delivering their desserts to mark a night of love-filled happiness. A successful dinner thus far. “Mmm tiramisu” Patton digs in, his eating gracefully as the sweet dessert tickles his upper mouth.

“I do enjoy a simple chocolate cake,” Logan says himself as he takes a delectable bite of his food. He pushes the plate slightly towards Patton. “Would you care for a bite?” He offers, Patton pulls the fork from his mouth, a lopsided smile.

“Of course” He tries, a sweet but bitter taste befalls his mouth. “Care for a bite of mine” Logan takes it, trying not to cringe inwards. It's not bad, just incredibly sweet, made to Italian perfection but not his style. “Too sweet?”

“Just like you” He retorts, a coy smile spreads as Patton blushes his eyes darting quickly to suddenly very interesting candle.  “Sorry” He shakes his head, Patton giggles.

“Don't be, thank you,” He says finishing his dessert. Logan quickly does the same, and somehow once the check has been paid the pair make their way outside. The chilly air only growing in cold, Pattons not sure why but he interlaces his arms with Logan, the lawyer blushing excited when Patton does so.

“Are you having a good time?” Logan checks for what seems like the fifth time tonight, Patton stops him taking his shoulders.

“Ok, you've asked that a lot tonight. Is everything ok?” Patton wonders, the taller man adjusts his glasses. “Lo…” Patton moans softly, wishing to return the fun that logan has gifted him that night.

“I just want this to go well for you” Logan replies, his throat growing hoarse. Patton chuckles his breath visible in the air.

“Logan” He starts so carefully, in a way that Logan wishes his name should only be uttered by Patton. “This isn't just about me. You know that right? We should both be enjoying this night, god I hope you are” He jokes, his voice shaky. “I want you to have a good time, and if you aren't that's ok-”

“I am” Logan confirms, his interruption causing a sweet smile upon Patton.

“Well good, I am too” He bounces taking Logan's hand “Where to next?” He asks looking up to Logan. The lawyer looks back at him. He turns Patton towards him studying his face, under the snow Patton practically glistens. The snow begins to fall softly, coating the brim of their glasses, they laugh looking up.  “Snow reason to end the night now” Patton teases.

“Really?” Logan groans, an amused smile failing him. Patton giggles falling into Logan's chest softly. The warmth that spreads around him is something that overtakes him. Patton recoils a bit holding to Logan's scarf, twirling it gently. Logan places his hand under Patton's chin as he leans in meeting their lips. Patton returns the soft gesture still clutching to his scarf, his gloves wrapping further around it. A careful click as they pull apart, Patton's undeniable smile as he meets Logan's eyes. He laughs as the snow falls directly onto the lawyer's nose taking his glove to wipe it away. Logan fails to resist the urge to giggle as the wool tickles him.

“Oho…” Patton smirks “Logan Tolentino...are you ticklish?” Patton checks, Logan laughs away, turning his face away. “Oh my! You are!” Patton claims

“Please don't tell Roman” Logan begs “I don't want to know what he would do with that information” Patton giggles delighted imagining the judge locked into battle with a very flustered Logan.

“That's alright, I can find other ways to get you flustered” Patton leans in kissing Logan once more, not sure how long he's waited to that so casually. As if second nature.

“Ways...that I don't mind” Logan nods, Patton rolls his eyes playfully as they continue their trek through the snow, closing the door on a night that can only be described as perfect. Because it truly was, the evening had been something of a new experience for both of them. Patton had never felt so safe in someone elses arms as they played with his fingers, Logan had never felt so invested, so truly passionate.

They were…

In the most professional sense...

In love

[the-omni-princess]

Frozen Heart [Chapter 10]

Author: @the-omni-princess

Summary:  After the war against Hydra, King Bucky comes home to take what has been promised to him since he was young, you. But he is not the same person as the young boy that you grew up with. Can she break through his tough shell and bring back the young man she once fell in love with? Or will she be forced to marry the monster everyone thinks he’s become?

Word Count: 3.8K

Pairing: King!Bucky x Fem!Reader (Royalty Au!)

Warnings: A sex mention, Minor illnesses, Surprises!, Language, Violence, Blood

A/N:

Time for it to get funnnn

-

[Series Masterlist]  [Masterlist]

----

As October ended and November began, change frequently occurred in the palace. The furs in your as well as Bucky's chamber got thicker, the candles and firewood got thicker, the trees all looked barren, the only living looking plants were in your new greenhouse. Finished just in time for winter, you walked along the pathway, picking out a new spot for the peonies in your hand, Aurora walking beside you. Your own wolf was still too young to wander the castle with you, but her training was coming along wonderfully. Ever since you and Bucky became one, he had become a bit more protective, if that was even possible. Now, he was in a meeting without you, one of the few nowadays you didn't participate in.

You sat on the ground in the greenhouse, tugging your long sleeves up to plant the flowers. Aurora curled up beside you, the wolf pup had become just as possessive as Bucky, always curled up to one of you, and recently had joined you two curled up in bed at times.

"I thought I might find you here," a familiar voice rang out, you didn't glance back, already well knowing who it was. Aurora whined softly, jumping up to say hello to him.

"It's either here or the library, or one of our beds," you shot back, "not many options with the cold setting in."

Bucky came up behind you, wrapping his arms around you. You happily laid back into his chest, smiling as he spoke. "And here I thought you enjoyed meetings with me," he pressed a kiss to your hair, burying himself into you.

"I do, but I hate meetings involving the diplomats from Hydra's Kingdom. Even defeated they are slimy, uncaring about their starving people." You closed your eyes, leaning your head against his shoulder. "And I can never forgive those monsters for hurting you," you murmured softly.

"I don't enjoy those meetings either, My Love, but sadly they are necessary. Gladly, they are leaving early as the snows are rolling in. We believe a snow storm is coming tonight." Aurora curled up beside the two of you, and you ran a hand through her fur. "Your first snow," he added, excitement in his voice.

"My first snow," you closed your eyes in content. "Gods, I'm going to be freezing!"

He chuckled behind you, tightening his hold on you. "I'll keep you warm," he spoke against your neck, goosebumps raising as his breath fanned across your skin, much to his amusement.

"You did promise to keep me warm when I first moved here, I do suppose you've done a good job so far," you teased with a playful grin.

"I'd promise the world for you if you wanted it, My Queen," he kissed your ear, all his kisses chaste and playful. "Speaking of, My Queen, your coronation has to follow Northern traditions, but is there any part of Southern Coronation Traditions you wish to have?" You shrugged faintly against him.

You and your Ladies in Waiting were in charge of planning the wedding, a perfect union between North and South, both rituals relatively similar. Both used handfasting, but the elements in each differed slightly. Silver in the North, Gold in the South. Diamond rings in the North, Pearl rings in the South. These differences also followed in coronations, only they shifted to crowns and robes.

"I don't mind a fully Northern Coronation, My Love. I'll be Queen of the North, not Queen of the South. It may be where I'm from, and it'll always be a part of me, but it isn't where I'll be for the rest of my life." You reminded lightly. You turned slightly, burying your face in his neck. "The wedding, however, is completely half and half," you smiled against his skin, pleased with yourself as he shuddered. "Nat's idea of course. Two becoming one. Two people, two kingdoms, one soul." you pulled away enough to see the smile on his face, his eyes crinkled, sending warmth through your body.

"That sounds wonderful," he gave you a cheeky grin before adding, "My Queen."

You giggled, smiling up at him. "Soon I will be," you kissed his nose, watching his face scrunch up.

"A month and a half, that's all I have to wait for, and you'll be mine forever!" He sounded giddy, tugging you close as you two laughed.

"We've waited since we were children, a month shall go by fast, the past few have." You ran a hand through his hair, watching as he melted against your touch.

"They go by faster with you here. Our whole lives, then forever." He murmured, eyes closing as he relaxed.

"Forever is an awfully long time, Bucket. You sure you're up for the commitment?"

He gave you a goofy smile in response. "Forever is never enough when I'm with you."

You scoffed, "Stop being all romantic, it's making me feel things!" You gently nudged him, unable to hide the smile on your face.

"Good!" He beamed, showering you in kisses as he tightened his grip on you.

-

As the day passed, the two of you walked towards Bucky's Chambers hand in hand, Aurora at your heels. You sneaked a glance behind you, noticing neither of the personal guards were men you knew, and you knew almost all of them. Something felt wrong, a light in the castle seemed to dim. Bucky noticed your turned mood, and your subtle glances taking in the new guards as the wind started to howl outside. Deciding to speak about it later, in private, he didn’t ask.

The two of you sat outside on your star gazing balcony. The storm was starting, snow slowly falling to the ground. You were tightly wrapped in furs and blankets, toasty warm as your nose started to get cold. You ignored it, grinning as you caught the ice on your tongue excitedly.

"It's so pretty!" You grinned at Bucky, pointing at the snow on the mountains which was growing.

He smiled warmly at you, letting you enjoy the cold and different season. He eventually tugged you inside before you could freeze over, "alright, Princess. No more cold for you, you'll get frostbite." He fused over you, pulling more furs and warm clothes on you until you were covered in layers, sitting on his bed.

"Something is going on," you said suddenly pulling blankets off of you, surprising Bucky as he got into bed beside you, Aurora jumping into the bed, laying her head on his stomach.

"What do you mean, My Love?" He gave you a confused look, his eyebrows scrunched up adorably.

"New guards here, and Steve said he also has new guards he's never seen before, and the Hydra diplomats suddenly are very friendly, and the scouts on the edge of the kingdom spotting movement. They are planning something." You concluded.

He sighed softly with a nod, "I've noticed most of that as well. Until they make a move we can't do anything. Their officials may be terrible people, but a war would affect their people, a people starved and already war raged, they’re still recovering."

You leaned your head against his shoulder. "Has anyone told you how amazing you are?" You asked softly.

Despite these people being the ones that hurt him, he didn't want to rage war on its people. "Maybe someone has," he teased, smiling against your hair, taking in the smell of your lavender shampoo.

"Hope it's not any other girl," you joked back, nuzzling into him.

He chuckled, "Even if it was, you're the only one for me," he spoke seriously, tugging you closer.

You let your eyes close, happy to bask in his warmth as well as his and Aurora's attention.

-

The next morning you awoke with an upset stomach. Knots twisting and stabbing into your guts like a knife stabbing into you. You rolled out of the bed, pulling yourself out of warm arms, rushing towards the bathroom. "Doll?" A sleepy Bucky managed to say as you ran off. Two confused yips sounded behind you as you retched in the toilet. Aurora happened to stride over first, whining as she walked over, lying beside you and burying her muzzle supportively in your side. Bucky showed up a split second later, kneeling beside you as he held your hair out of your face, rubbing your back.

Once your stomach managed to empty itself, you sat back on your heels, leaning against Bucky. "Gods, I must have a stomach bug or something," you mumbled, lazily burying yourself in his arms. "I feel gross though, but tired."

"It's still early, we can go to the healers in a little while. You're still sleepy, aren't you?" He kissed your head as you nodded, standing and picking you up in his arms. You hummed in acknowledgement, letting your eyes close as he tucked you back into the warm bed. He pulled a blanket over you, Aurora jumping into bed after you, Bucky holding you close as you fell asleep again in his arms.

-

An hour later you woke to Bucky nudging you gently. "My Love, wake up, we should go to the doctors," he was concerned, you weren't one to get sick easy and you looked pale and flush. You groaned, eventually awake enough to get dressed and following Bucky to the royal clinic.

You sat there, Bucky fussing over you as Dr. Bruce Banner and Dr. Helen Cho circled you. Wanda eventually joined the party, much to Natasha's amusement. All three fused over you. Bruce and Helen had both known you since your arrival months ago and had taken a liking to you, the prior being a former soldier, and Wanda had known you most of your life. Soon all three, plus Bucky fussing, plus Sam and Natasha at the door, it all overwhelmed you.

"Please, can all of you calm down for just a minute!" You snapped, all eyes turning towards you as they froze in place. "It’s probably just stress, as I've taken more responsibilities and planning the wedding and worrying about the coronation and the changing seasons, I'm sure I'm fine!" You sighed softly, burying your face in your hands. "Please, I feel smothered by you all." You mumbled. Bucky frowned, chancing placing his hand on your shoulder. You melted against his touch, sudden hot tears ran down your cheeks. "Why can't I control any of these emotions?" You whispered absentmindedly.

Unbeknownst to you, Natasha and Wanda shared a look. They both knew everything about you and Bucky's relationship, including that you two had sex about three weeks ago. Natasha shooed the gathering maids from the door, shutting it and sitting beside you, taking your hand. Wanda whispered something to Dr. Cho, who quickly ran some tests on the blood and urine they collected from you.

You sniffled, looking up towards Nat as her weight dipped the bed you were in. "Wanda and I think we know what's wrong," Nat said slowly a few minutes later, looking towards Helen who had walked in with a new paper. Helen nodded, Bruce going pale as he read the results paper. You sat up a bit, hands laced with Bucky's who looked just as confused.

"The mood swings, the morning sickness, the fact that you haven't had your period yet," that made you go pale. You completely forgot you were two weeks late, too caught up in Royal duties. All the symptoms, the sudden giddiness Natasha and Wanda had.

"Am I...?" You whispered, the true nature of it setting in.

Helen spoke up, "According to Urine and blood tests, yes. We'll let you two have a moment," Nat nodded quickly, dragging Bruce and Sam out the door, Helen and Wanda following as they closed the door.

You and Bucky sat in silence for a moment, letting the fact settle in both of your minds. "You're pregnant," he managed to say in a soft voice, though you didn't hear any malice like you might have feared, only awe and a hint of confusion.

"I'm pregnant." You repeated. Deciding to look up at him, you could see the goofy smile starting to lift his features. "I'm going to be a mother... You're going to be a father..." The shock was still there, but both of you started smiling at each other.

"I'm going to be a father," he repeated. He launched forward, showering your face in kisses, sending you into a fit of giggles. "You're going to carry out child, our baby, you're going to be a mother, I'm going to be a father, oh gods can I handle being a father?" He rambled, getting serious.

You gently cupped his face in your hands, kissing him tenderly, stopping his rambles. You pressed your forehead against his, grinning as your lips ghosted across each other. "You'll be a wonderful father. Caring, protective, strong, loving. We'll learn how to be parents together," you kissed him again and again, holding each other close, deciding that the future mattered, but for right now you two would stay in the moment, together.

-

As the week went on, you and Bucky kept the big news to a small few. Clearly Sam, Natasha, Wanda, and a few people in the clinic knew. The maids figured it out when you didn't get your period, already having started their own rumors. The first person you and Bucky told together was Steve, via video chat. He looked ready to slap Bucky for getting you pregnant, cry that he was going to be an Uncle, and proud that his best friend and little sister were living their happily ever after. Your parents knew as well, and your mother was already flooding you with advice that wouldn’t come in handy for months. Other than that, the rest of the whispers and rumors in court were hushed and behind your backs.

You continued to work, though as the week ended, Bucky had started to sleep over in your Chambers. Something in his chamber smelled off, setting your new maternity sense to ring alarms. You couldn't sleep in his bed, a fact you absolutely hated.

Saying goodnight to yet another new guard you didn't recognize, you closed the chamber doors, Aurora jumping into your bed and curling up. You sat beside her after changing into pajamas, ready to bury yourself into the thick furs Bucky added to your bed while another snow storm roared outside. Aurora whined softly beside you, ears perked up and looking around the room in distress.

"What is it Aura?" You whispered, standing and now on defense. Bucky had a late meeting that night and wouldn't join you for at least an hour or two. You had nothing to defend yourself, glancing around the room you noticed nothing sharp you could use to help you with whatever set off Aurora. That was odd, you had a knife letter opener that was absent from your desk. Something that also suddenly occurred to you was that neither Sam, Natasha, Wanda, or Scott was on duty tonight. That never happened in the months since you've moved to the North. A fact that occurred to you too late. You were defenseless, alone, and surrounded by potential enemies.

Aurora growled beside you, haunches raised and glancing in multiple directions. Fuck, multiple hostiles. The wolf pup stood in front of you protectively, as you thought back to something Natasha used to teach you. Pretend you're smaller and more defenseless than you really are.

As two men appeared from opposite shadows in your room, you appeared to look meek, small. They came closer, still just out of reach of you, or Aurora without leaving the protective circle you and the wolf made. "Look at that, the little princess is all alone." One man cooed. His accent sent a shiver down your spine, you recognized him as a Hydra diplomat from the court.

That's when you got a good look at the other man, and you felt your heart drop. General Brock Rumlow, one of the very men Bucky fought against was standing in your bedroom. "Hello Princess, terribly sorry for the late notice, but you're coming with us. I know all about your fight against the assassin we sent to kill your brother, so don't try anything."

You dropped the meek act and snarled at the man, matching growls with the wolf in front of you. "Now why would I just go with you?"

He laughed, a sick feeling filling you. "Because right now, your little fiancé is next to one of my men. One mistake and my men will slit his throat," you felt your face pale. They could threaten you, but they were threatening Bucky. You felt the strong face you had on crack.

"Don't you dare fucking touch him," you growled, Aurora responding with a bark towards the man. You hoped it was loud enough to alert someone to help you, yet the man in front of you laughed.

"That won't help doggie, all the men outside are mine. You know how easy it was to become your personal guard? Manipulate time schedules, find lab results." Your hands were shaking now, and you felt the bile rise in your throat. "So, Princess, follow me, and call the dog off." You glanced down at Aurora, who was tense, but you then remembered she knew all the secret passageways of the castle and was trained to find yours and Bucky's scent. You whistled lowly, Aurora whining. You repeated it, and Aurora slinked away, rushing towards Bucky. That would set him off, Aurora was known to always curl up into you when you slept and would only part ways when Bucky called her. He should be able to notice something's wrong. You hoped and prayed to every god you knew that he did.

You followed Rumlow, the vile man getting too close for comfort as you walked in the halls. He had a sense of arrogance about him, and most hallways were empty, no one able to see you as Brock pushed a dagger into back to dig at your spine, leading you towards the back entrance.

He pushed open the door, the cold rushed in, making you cold to the bone before you even stepped out. He grabbed you by the arm, his grip burned into your skin. He ran his fingers down your throat, and you growled lowly, close to punching the man. The thought of Bucky getting hurt because of the action made you still. No matter how much he hurt you, you wouldn't let him hurt Bucky. His fingers grazed the golden chain of your necklace, and hooked underneath them, "Now this is cute. You practically have a dog collar on, like the bitch you are," he singsonged into your ear. He ripped the necklace off, and you gasped as the clasp snapped against your skin, breaking. He tossed it to the ground, before shoving you forward into the snow. "Let's go, Princess. It's a decent walk till we get back to your new home." You shivered, now on your hands and knees in the snow, your pajamas not helping you at all. You stood on shaky legs, holding your head up high as you bit your tongue, refusing to give this abhorrent man anything to use against you.

You heard barking in the distance, Aurora finding you, and Bucky right behind. He had blood dripping down his cheek, but on second look, it didn't seem to be his own. Sam and Natasha were beside him, Sam had bruises blooming all over his face, and what looked like a broken nose. Brock pulled you in front of him, the dagger held against your throat. You stilled, weighing your options. Bucky looked feral, the same icy look from months ago when he first walked into your life again was back. The warmth seeped out of him, you were in danger, as was the baby, hisbaby.

"Let her go, Rumlow," he snarled, Aurora at his feet, ready to pounce.

"No can do, she's ours now, Your Majesty," he spit back out. He pressed the dagger closer into your neck, making a small trickle of blood appear. You whined softly, Bucky's eyes shooting to you, pained. As Brock pulled you back onto the terrace, you could see more Hydra gaurds hiding behind the doors. It was a trap all along to take more than one royal. Not on your watch they wouldn't.

Your eyes locked into Bucky, knowing he could see you. You mouthed, 'I love you,' before pushing your elbow back. You knocked Brock back, he grunted, not expecting you to fight back. You shot forward, grabbing onto the doors and locking them, knowing the mechanism would need a reboot to open during the emergency alert Bucky had placed on the castle. This was both your saving grace, and your living nightmare. You were trapped, burying yourself in snow, surrounded by Hydra agents, a steel and glass door between you and your family. But that also meant it was that door between Hydra and Bucky, something you could live with. A realization hit you suddenly. You would, without a doubt, die to protect this man. No matter the cost.

To say Rumlow was pissed off at you was an understatement. You saw his reflection in the glass, noticing the mirrored moves between him and Bucky. They both rushed forward towards you, Bucky having a glass barrier between you. Rumlow grabbed onto you, hitting you in the side of the head with the blunt edge of the knife. "You'll regret that, Princess." He snarled into your ear. The last thing you saw as black dots blurred your vision was Bucky falling to his knees on the other side of the glass, as they took you away from him. His own personal Nightmare.

-

Frozen Heart Tags:

@jsmith509 / @lumar014 / @littlemissporter / @kaylaphantomhive  

@damnbuckyishot / @aveatquevale- / @booksbeforebois  

@marvelgirl7 / @minetticatinwonderland  

Bucky Tags:

@cassandras-musings  / @darkness-doughter / @novaddictx / @thedancingnerdmermaid

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