#my room always gets hit the worst in my families flat when winter hits

[thetimelordbatgirl]

No joke, its so fucking cold right now in my room, holy shit. 

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

2 - Mouth of the Lion's Den

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader (Slow Burn), Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader

Length: 11.2k

Warnings: Slow Burn, strained parent-child issues, mentions of minor character death, injured/sick child mention, slight canon divergence

Notes: We're in the thick of the plot now. Based on the show but will include direct book elements. Previous Chapter Here.

You used to not travel very well as a child. The first time you left Dragonstone was right at the crux of the seasons change. Summer had ended, and it was a quick Autumn which felt far more like winter the more North you sailed. The sea was always cool, and the north was cooler. When you returned to Dragonstone some months later, Maester Cressen had said that the mix of seasons being the first time you left home is what caused you to get so ill.

What a meeting it was. Lord Stark had told you that it was halfway through your first meal with them when you collapsed. Barley touched anything on your plate which they first thought you just weren’t used to the food. That was until you collapsed onto the floor just as you stood from your seat as you burned up.

Whatever it was, it went through you fast and terrifying to the point where Maester Luwin had told Lord Stark to prepare to send a raven in case the worst happened. It didn’t though, you slept through the fever and by the time you awoke, you remembered none of it. You assumed you fell sick before arriving at Winterfell that’s how little you were really aware of anything.

It wasn’t like that anymore, but as you had sat in your room at the Inn days ago it did make you wonder what could have possibly hit Lord Arryn faster and harsher then that. Despite his age, he was more healthy as an older man then you were at the age of eight. Yet you had survived and his sickness burned through him in one single night.

Perhaps you had too much time that night to think on it, no one really was in any mood to converse after what happened. Once Lord Stark had put Lady down, he had you go find Jory. “Tell him to choose four men and have them take the body back North. Bury her at Winterfell.” He had taken the girls to their rooms, and even in the muffled quiet you could hear Sansa crying through the walls. Arya’s cries would be too quiet to hear, but you were no fool to think her chasing off Nymeria just to save her life wouldn’t leave the child in tears of her own.

So the Inn was silent, save for the low tones coming from Lord Stark’s own room. One where he laid the truth out, what Lysa has sent her sister, what it said about the Lannisters. He asked you what did you notice from before he died, and you were honest. Very little.

Your lord father had kept you away on purpose. He and Lord Arryn distant and secretive, and you had suspected you were sitting on small council meetings not just in his place but as if it would keep you preoccupied from their doings. Which it worked, but it also was not enough to dull you. Lord Stark agreed that it all worked out too seamlessly, Lord Arryn dies suddenly from an unknown illness, Stannis Baratheon urgently marries his firstborn daughter off to a far northern house as he himself flees to Dragonstone.

They both knew something, and what that was, sent your father away on his own accord. Shutting himself back on the grim island and leaving you to the wolves and the lions.

“You’re our family now. You are as good as one of my own daughters, and we protect our own. You stick by me once me get to Kings Landing. Work by my side, you’ll stay in our quarters with the girls until we learn what it is Jon Arryn died for.” Once again, that lingering feeling sat in your gut that walking out of the capital wasn’t going to be as easy as walking in this time around.

Now, sitting atop your horse once more you felt even less happy about being back then you had leaving the north. Your face flat and cold like stone as you rose through the crowds welcoming the King and his company once more. The cart behind you carrying the girls, Sansa no doubt bright eyed and taking in the awe of a place she dreamed would be for her. Arya you knew no doubt, was already wondering just how much she would explore when left to her own curious devices.

Just ahead of you, a page awaited everyone’s arrival. Calling to Lord Stark for a small council meeting at Grand Maester Pycelle’s request. You dared not move an inch thinking about how typical it was that such a meeting wasn’t called by the King himself, despite no doubt arriving before you all had. Oh the many matters of your King Uncle to attend too. So much wine to drink, and so many whores to fuck.

Lord Stark calling back, “Jory, get the girls settled in. I’ll be back in time for supper.” Calling your name, you climbed off your horse as he beckoned you. “You’re with me.”

The Page glancing over his attire and yours as you approached, “If you’d like to change into something more appropriate…” The combination of yours and Lord Stark’s unmoving stare causing him to stammer and backtrack. Any other time you may have considered it, but now you were here in place of your fathers position and spending time dolling yourself up once more looked more and more like a waste of time.

Renly had once told you every time you return to Kings Landing, you seem to be more and more of a splitting image of your bore of a father. He might be onto something in truth.

The Red Keep had not changed, and nothing passed your mind to care to think about it until the doors to the Throne room opened and right at the top looking up at the Iron Throne was just another face you wished not to see so early in the morning. Ser Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer, and twin brother to the Queen, he certainly held all the superior smugness of such titles in his very posture had seemed to arrive far earlier then yourself.

A little nod did not suffice as you wished it did, as he saw fit to open his mouth as soon as you came even slightly close. “Lady Baratheon- or, I suppose it’s Stark now isn’t it? Already quite adjusted to the northern boys afterall, aren’t you?” Barley managing to muster up the weakest of half smiles he only grinned more, leaning in to give a fake too-loud whisper in your ear. “I do hope you weren’t too broken in for your new husband, would hate to break the boys heart before he even had a chance.”

Biting your tongue, you were sure had he not found victim in Lord Stark behind you, the pressure would’ve drawn blood. You didn’t wait, making your way into the small council chamber with little care of greeting those already present, for the most part.

“Ah, the newly named Lady Stark. I must congratulate you on your marriage, always nice to see the young love flourishing. Shame to be torn apart so early on.” Nodding, you managed more of a smile this time. You didn’t particularly trust Lord Varys but considering he was the man who likely knew so much he could tell you what you had for breakfast three days ago, playing nice was better then not playing at all.

“Thank you, Lord Varys. But, he has Winterfell to run and I have my work here. I’m sure Robb understands.”

Passing to the table, you nodded to Grand Maester Pycelle, and saw fit to ignore the other party in the room without any shame in doing so. Not that you would be aware of, but to the others it really was as if Lord Stannis had walked in like normal. The man having no patience for Petyr Baelish as well. If anyone lit your gaze up slightly, it was the smirk of the younger man already waiting by the opposite end.

Renly had no qualms about approaching you with a casualness, and no need to pretend as if either of you cared to be formally civil. “I can’t tell if the north suits you my dear niece, or if it’s just being around this lot making you so much more droll.”

Arms crossed in front of you, an eyebrow quirked up as he held a smirk. You’d hit him later. “Shame you were so busy Uncle, would have been nice to have at least one other family member there to share the festivities with.”

Hardly a secret anymore, most in the court knew of Renly’s private preferences but you might be the only one who knew it without any doubt. The only one it seemed, that he trusted to know as well. Not that his brothers would despise him for it, but certainly the King a bit too crass to not be offensive and well, least to say your father was not exactly a comforting kind of man. He wouldn’t care and he certainly would make you feel as such for it.

“What can I say, so much work, so many laws to look into.”

Your eyes glint, passing right by with a tone only audible enough for him, “Swordplay isn’t a law, last time I checked.” You’d be a fool to think Renly didn’t take advantage of so much of the royal court being away, not to lock himself up in his chambers with a certain flower for as long as he could get away with.

Not that you were in such a position to dare judge.

Your father used to get annoyed constantly by the lack of work Renly was properly given, but it might be he expected too much. Renly had a tendency to be handed easy tasks and get more credit then the nights your own father spent buried in papers in his office would accomplish. Leaning your hands on the top of what was now your seat, you watched the others greet the now approaching Lord Stark.

“We are all praying for Prince Joffery’s full recovery.”

Oh the rewards the gods should bestow upon you for how little you changed your expression. He gets one bite from a barley grown Direwolf and he has the realm on it’s knees pretending to sob at the tragic wounds. You had more scars on you from being hit with sticks and practice swords over your childhood before the spoiled Prince ever reached that age.

Even in Winterfell, you watched him get angry and frustrated at how often Robb would hit him in the courtyard simply beacuse he had no idea what he was doing. The Hound having to remind him even that he demanded they spar just to show off, and he can’t stand there and whine blaming Robb for doing exactly what he asked.

Besides, not that anyone had asked, you’d have to admit that not all bites from a wolf were entirely bad. At least it took as long as it did to get back to Kings Landing, those marks having healed over by the time it became too hot to cover them up then in the northern cold.

Renly’s voice from beside you, “You look tired from the road, I told them this meeting could wait another day but..”

“But we have a kingdom to look after.” Looking over you saw a strange smile on Lord Baelish’s face and so did everyone else if the uncomfortable air in the room was honest. “I’ve hope to meet you for some time, Lord Stark. No doubt Lady Catelyn has mentioned me.”

“She has, Lord Baelish. I understand you knew my brother Brandon as well.”

If Lord Baelish could have purposely made things more uncomfortable you think the room might have melted away just to escape it. It wasn’t the first time you’d heard whispers of his affection for her, but it was brazen of him to be so open about it in front of her husband of over twenty years.

Settling in, you sat beside Lord Stark as Renly pulled out a paper, explaining to the council that the King wasn’t exactly a common presence at the small council and most of these matters were left without his input. “My brother has instructed us to stage a tournament in honour of Lord Stark’s appointment as Hand of the King.”

Didn’t take being Master of Coin to know the money wouldn’t be coming from the surplus of the Crown. Grand Maester Pycelle’s frail voice piping up, “Can the treasury bear such expenses?”

As if ordering food from a servant, Lord Baelish waved the concern. “I’ll have to borrow it. The Lannisters will accomodate, I expect. We already owe Lord Tywin three million gold, what’s another eighty thousand.”

You felt for Lord Stark beside you, “Are you telling me the Crown is three million in debt?”

Looking firmly at the table with an irritated grimace, you corrected him for the worse. “Actually, he’s telling you the Crown is six million in debt.” Lord Stark, was in shock at the state, demanding to know how this could happen and once again, Lord Baelish acted like such debt was easily forgiven.

“The Master of Coin finds the money, the King and the Hand spend it.”

Lord Stark beside you sounded as annoyed as you felt on the inside but he was still tinged in disbelief as he looked at the man. “I will not believe Jon Arryn allowed Robert to bankrupt the realm.”

The Grand Maester for all his slowness, had the grace to speak the truth instead of washing it away like the other Lord in front of him. “Lord Arryn gave wise and prudent advice, but I fear His Grace doesn’t always listen.”

Sitting up straight, you nor Renly were quite sure if it was his voice that came out of your mouth, or the unimpressed voice of your father who held the same opinions. “The King loves tournaments and feasts, but not the conversation of money that follows. ‘Counting Coppers’ he calls it.”

You admired his determination to reason with the King. Even with both his blood brothers at his side, neither man could settle his indulgences the way Lord Stark may have the ability too. Even now you could hear the ramblings and angry ravings of your father in his office, going about how he was born the wrong family if he were to ever make his brother listen. Many had thought that Lord Stannis would take over as Hand of the King, and you would take his place as Master of Ships in the immediate aftermath of Lord Arryns death.

Your father had been sat on the small council for almost ten years at that point, and had been home less and less as those years passed. The only letters he exchanged anymore were with some of his closest men, and of course, Shireen. You envied her in that sense. Not that she was loved in the way she was, but that she had such a happy innocence about her.

Once Maester Cressen had said she was the saddest girl he had ever met, that he considered that part of his failure to cure her. But she had been cured, just not by him and clearly he took it hard, but she wasn’t sad, not in the way some assumed. She loved learning, and your father had been determined to give her the same education as he had you. Everyday she would run to him once he was in his own quarters, jump onto his lap and go on about what book she was learning to read, and were he not there, she’d scramble to write a letter to tell him.

Few people adored Lord Stannis, but she was always his biggest supporter.

As you entered the very bottom of the tower of the hand, you wondered how much she knew. Did she know Lord Arryn was dead, did she know you were acting in your fathers place, did she even know you were married? She’d be upset to learn she wasn’t there for your wedding. One day when she was just barley older then a toddler, you had been sitting on the edge of a cliff on Dragonstone with Shireen sat in your lap.

Going on about what a highborn lady would do, who she’d marry and what the wedding would be. You planned hers and yours, just two little girls by the waters edge and it saddened you to think that she wasn’t there to see yours. Childishly, you wondered if she’d like Robb.

Walking through the door, you passed some of the Starks household guard, regarding you with a familiarity as you passed. As if you really were family, not just a guest. Maybe it was for the best that she had father with her again, at least he still felt like one to her.

The chambers were quiet, and as you saw what was left of easy food on the table you hadn’t the stomach for it. Sitting down regardless, you lifted some of the plates out of your place, pouring yourself water as you stared at the little flame the light on the table wickered with. Pulling out a small slip of paper from a small pocket, you slipped the seal off, a small direwolf. Looking over the words as you sipped at the water.

Sending a raven was risky for what he was trying to say, but Robb was smart enough to not say anything of anything. Telling you of Bran, and your heart broke at how devastated the boy feels of not being able to walk again. More he tells you of how he has no idea what to even say to make it better, that Bran just needs time to get used to things but watching his little brother be so miserable and not being able to fix it just makes him angry. You knew exactly how that felt, watching your little sibling suffer and being completely useless to them for it.

A slam shook you out of your focus, pulling the letter back suddenly and tucking it away before you looked up to see a somewhat grumpy Arya now at the table with you. “I know my face usually looks like that, but what’s got yours in such a put off state?”

Sighing, she draped her arms over the top of the surface to gently lay her head in them, turned enough to still see you. “I don’t know how you stand it, being here all the time.”

Leaning forward, you mimicked her posture, looking back at her now from a tilted but even eye level. “I’m here because I have to be, not because I want to be. I have a duty, and that needs to be upheld regardless if it makes me miss home or not.”

Pushing up suddenly, Arya’s eyes were bright and bordering on an intense curiosity. “You’d rather be home? At Dragonstone?”

Moving back yourself you paused as you opened your mouth. Closed it for a second, before sighing out as you crossed your arms over your chest. Leaning back against the chair behind you looking at the nothing of importance on the table. “Honestly? I’m not sure where that is anymore.” Her brows narrowed in confusion, “Where I feel at home I mean.”

Were there not such a heavy weight in your heart you may have smiled at how quickly she reacted, and the finality of her tone. “You’re one of us now, Winterfell is your home.” Just as something crossed your mind, it clearly did hers too. Shoulders deflating as she lost the shine in her eyes. “Or, it’s supposed to be.”

Heart reaching out to hers, you knew comforting wouldn’t make it better, or change what hurt in the first place. “You won’t be in Kings Landing forever.” Her eyes flickered to you and then back did they focus into her mind. “Eventually you’ll go back to Winterfell, get restless there too and you’ll either insist someone take you there or you’ll be old enough to just head out to visit on your own. He’ll always want to see you.”

Arya grumbled out, quiet and filled with a twinge of guilt as if she couldn’t decide should you be able to hear her or not. “Not just me he’ll want to see.”

Leaning forward, your back sat straight for the most part as you leaned your forearms against the table again. “There’s five of you, Arya. You have to share your brother with all of them at least sometimes.”

Quieter so much this time, you weren’t sure if you even actually heard her speak but there was a faint sound like, “Not just us,” that you choose to ignore. As Arya herself pushed passed it as well. “Sansa won’t care. She barley ever even calls him her brother.” There was a bite to her tone, and you knew all too well that it wasn’t just about this.

She didn’t find out until the next day about the butcher’s son, and she still hadn’t taken it very well.

You tried softly calling her name, but Arya got louder. Her arms swinging a bit as she gestured in her expressiveness. “She always calls him our bastard brother, not even half brother or anything like he’s not been her brother since she was born. She doesn’t respect him, she doesn’t respect anybody who isn’t herself or the stupid prince.”

Anywhere but the safety of her own walls, you’d scold her for so freely vocalizing her insolence. But she was in her new home, and Joffery certainly was a stupid, vile little creature who got Arya’s new friend killed. People could claim it was the Queen, but you unfortunately knew her well enough that she was far more clever of a monster then that. No, that was Joffery’s angry, immature rage which sent the Hound out against a boy not even in his teens.

Glancing at the door you knew to be both Lord Stark’s room, and if his work ethic was consistent, scribbling away on the too many tasks the King left to his Lord Hand, too busy to come out and hear you. “Do you want my honest opinion? About that night?” Her head nodding fervently, brows narrowed in a manner that looked so strikingly serious like Jons. “It doesn’t matter what Sansa would have said, as soon as Joffery showed up to the Inn bleeding, the Queen already made her mind up. Sansa could’ve told the complete truth and they still would’ve blamed you and Nymeria.”

A flash of sorrow in her eyes made your heart tighten painfully before covering it up with an easier to swallow emotion, “The she shouldn’t have lied! If it didn’t matter she could’ve told the truth about Micah and-”

“And the Queen would’ve done everything the same. And she still would’ve blamed you.” Leaning forward, your voice lowered to something much more serious. “People like you, like us? We don’t do well in places like this. You’re too honest and headstrong, and you haven’t been here long enough to learn how to hold back. And people like the Queen? Joffery? We are exactly who they want to take advantage of.”

You could hear the condescension even now, “She’s as wild as that animal of hers,” And it made you mad all over again. After some time when father brought you here, he ended up being the one to help you with your sword lessons alone in his own quarters, not wanting people like the Queen, or his brothers to have any more reason to look down on you. He wasn’t a popular man, he knew it, but he wouldn’t have these people mistreat his daughter, especially as a young teenager.

“I’m not saying you have to change, or pretend to be something you’re not. But I am telling you, this place has eyes and ears everywhere. Me, your father, Jory, people like that you can trust. You can be angry, and honest and upset around.” Glancing once again to Lord Starks door, you felt ashamed for what came from you next but mincing words was not a trait of the Stannis Baratheon variety of stags.

“Sansa wants to be here, and she wants to be apart of this because she’s naive. As long as the Lannisters give her pretty smiles, and soothing words she will bend to them because she thinks they could be her family some day. That doesn’t make it right the way she threw you and your friend to the wolves,” Arya quirked an eyebrow with a smirk, and you shook your head with one of your own. “Lions- shut up.”

Sighing, she leaned back into her seat. “I don’t hate her, not really. I just..”

“Don’t trust her.”

Glancing up with a bit of a stun, she seemed shocked you didn’t tell her to do anything otherwise. In a sense, you knew what she was feeling.

You loved Renly, he was closer to your age and the two of you always felt more like brother and sister with how easily he could bring out your more playful side in this pit of a captiol. But you didn’t trust him one bit. Not with your secrets, not with your work, and not with the particular companions he had been keeping as of late.

Renly and you were as close of friends as you had in this city, but at the end of the day. It was Stannis who was your father. It was the brother which both others looked down on, the daughter which had far too much of Stannis in her blood and personality to be seen as one of them. Robert didn’t care much for his brothers, but best be said he is lying to himself if he thinks he doesn’t show preference to Renly.

Stannis had always felt he was cheated of Storms End. The ancestral seat of House Baratheon, his by rights. Many times even in your tenure here at his side, he had gone to King Robert singing the same song. Anytime it was mentioned, your father would clench his jaw so tightly, you thought his teeth would shatter. You once had brought it up to one of his men, back on Dragonstone that he seemed to take it as a slight.

Ser Davos Seaworth had just looked at you with a somber look, one that was as sympathetic to his lord as he was offended on his behalf. “I think, my little lady, King Robert had meant it as a slight.”

It was the same here. Arya suffered, was threatened and attacked, her own direwolf having to be sent away just for protecting her master, and her new friend murdered for just agreeing to play duel by the river. Sansa had lost Lady in the Queens injustice, but she still got to walk the capitol and be treated like the princess she dreamed of being. While Arya was looked at as wild, untruly, and thought less of without being given a chance.

Falling back into the present, you sighed deeply. “Why do you think my Uncle Renly fits in here, when I stand out as much as your father does?”

Arya too, glanced at the closed door. “Because he plays along?”

“And I do my duty.” Sipping at the water once more before continuing. “Sansa is your family, and you shouldn’t forget that. You need each other, but I’m not asking you to trust her. Not the way you do your father, or Jon-”

“Or you.”

In those two words, your heart missed Shireen. She and Arya were alike in a lot of ways, Shireen a little more reserved but the same eager and honest spirit. You smiled, unsure if it was warmth of how Arya saw you, or yearning for the little sister you barley had seen grown up so far.

Silence between you was comfortable for a moment, until of course, Arya found something to blurt out. “Father caught me with Needle.” Raising your eyebrows, she slunk down a bit. “Needle’s my…it’s my sword. Well sort of a sword, it’s small and thin, but it’s supposed to be for my size. Anyways, he knocked on my door and I didn’t really notice that I didn’t bother hiding it. Or maybe I didn’t care if he saw me with it. He let me keep it, but he says I shouldn’t play with swords.”

Shrugging one shoulder, your voice was strangely casual. “They aren’t toys.”

“I know that!” You laughed at how defensive she got. You had a feeling you weren’t the first or even second person to tell her that. “You can use a sword, why shouldn’t I?”

Smiling to yourself, you refrained from specifying that the only reason you started to be trained on how to use one, is beacuse a certain dark haired, grey eyed boy had snuck up behind you and hit you with a practice one when no one was around to scold you two for it.

“Will you teach me?”

The letter in your pocket begin to weight you down, you needed to ask Lord Stark about it before morning. You had another small council meeting early on and you didn’t fancy being kept out of the dark again. Standing up, you ran your hand playfully over her hair as you passed. “That’s up to your father. It’s late, go get some sleep.”

Turning to approach Lord Stark’s room, you missed the feeling glance from the small Stark watching you leave. Something in her eyes that knew things which you couldn’t have guessed she was privy too, but just added to her growing admiration all the same.

As you guessed, the man was sitting at his desk writing away when he called for you to enter. Shutting it gently behind you with a polite, “Lord Stark.”

Chuckling, his hand paused before shaking his head slightly and continuing. “You’re allowed to call me my name, you know. I think marrying my son gives you the right to at drop the titles in private.”

Nodding once as you approached, “I’ll try to remember that.” He knew you wouldn’t.

When you hesitated, he looked up at you with a questioning look. “What is it?”

You stood unsure for another moment before quickly moving to take a seat on the opposite side of his desk, pulling out the letter. “I heard from Robb.” Lord Stark- Ned, leaned forward curiously. “Nothing new, just updating me about Bran, how he’s fairing as Lord of Winterfell.”

“I’m assuming you’re not just here to make small talk.”

Well it certainly wasn’t your skill that was true. Inhaling a slow breathe, you looked straight at him to just ask what you needed to confirm. “Lady Catelyn was here, wasn’t she?” His brows narrowed deeply as he reached a hand out, taking the letter from you.

Skimming over, he smiled amusingly as he reached the end. “You two talk in code often?”

You failed to prevent the smirk on your lips before you had noticed it was even forming. “Only when we’re talking about things we’re not supposed to.”

“And how often is that, exactly?”

You only shrugged. You, Robb, Jon, and later Theon, would get into trouble a lot when you were younger. But when you would leave, you and Robb figured out a way to talk about things that would certainly get you punished if your father ever found out. So you started writing in almost childish imagery. Hence the end of his letter, saying to ask his father about “some stray kitten I saw running around the halls the other day.”

Folding the letter, he handed it back to you. “Clever. But he’s right. I shouldn’t keep this from you, and Robb clearly doesn’t want me too.” Leaning back he pulled something from his desk, what looked like a blade with a rich ornate handle to it. Placing it on the desk you leaned forward to look closer as he explained. “A man came into Brans room some night after we had all left Winterfell. Told Cat no one was supposed to be there, that it was a kindness.”

The bite in his tone was angry and spiteful even if his face remained steadfast. Like he was lost in thought, he seemed to trail off in his head before coming back. Telling you of the man trying to kill him, how he had almost killed Lady Catelyn in the process, and the direwolf which ripped the assassins throat out. “Bran’s wolf had saved his life..”

Leaning forward you felt a horror bubble up inside of you, Bran was a boy of ten who would do such a thing? Voice weaker, cracking a bit at the look of almost shame or guilt in his eyes forming. “Lord Stark?”

Head shooting up to look at you, like those words, that specific title speaking of the wolves clicked something in his head that he didn’t know how to feel. “The direwolves, when we found them in the woods…Jon had said something. That my children were meant to have them..”

Jon hadn’t included himself. There were five pups, two girls and three boys and Jon had purposely not counted himself as one of Lord Stark’s children in order to prove they were meant to go to them. He had found Ghost off to the side all on his own, so quiet Jon wasn’t even sure how he had heard Ghost’s tiny cry when not a soul other had.

Lord Stark still lost in his thought, “If the Gods sent those wolves…I killed Sansa’s..” Just as fast as he lost himself in a spiral, he took back the reigns and pulled right back out of it. “Everything adds up but I don’t know to why. Lysa telling her that the Lannisters murdered Jon Arryn, Jaime Lannister being the only man who didn’t join the hunt the day Bran fell and strands of blonde hair in the tower when I could tell you for a fact no one had been in there for a very long time.”

He tapped his fingers at the blade and you felt a weight in your throat trying to fight against the words. “The blade?”

Lord Stark laughed meaninglessly. “The blade belongs to Tyrion Lannister.”

For all that you knew him, and for as different as he seemed, you couldn’t find it in your heart to see such traits past the blood of who he was and who his family was. “How do you know?”

The answer, you liked even less. Lost in a bet to the Lannister during a tourney, the previous owner knew who it now belonged to without any doubt, beacuse it’s previous owner was Petyr Baelish.

You were finding it increasingly hard to figure out who you didn’t like more in this city. Luckily for Tyrion Lannister he in fact, wasn’t in the city so he found your newfound anger towards him unobtrusive. Not as lucky for you, sitting at the small council you found too many men in the room you didn’t trust as far as you could throw.

Lord Varys avoided much interaction with you has he did your father, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t fully aware of every step you had taken in this city and no doubt others. You dared not think about how much he really knew, not that it mattered much now, but you didn’t appreciate the concept of lording information over another head to make them dance.

Lord Baelish was as trustworthy as he was kind, meaning none. A self serving worm who had no care for anything or one that didn’t give him either money or power. Though, you did consider him to be the less offensive to look at only if in comparison to the bloated faced man standing before the council.

Lord Janos Slynt, Commander of the City Watch was nothing short of an insult to the eyes. Patchy facial hair that didn’t quite sit well over the slight pudginess of his face that wouldn’t be a problem if it weren’t also always plastered with a high and mighty look as if he knows better. Standing before you, speaking of his struggle to keep the peace in the streets.

His voice covered itself in slime. “It’s the Hand’s tournament that’s causing all the trouble, my lords.”

An exhaustion sat in Lord Starks shoulders, his tone annoyed as his posture to the idea. “The King’s tournament. I assure you the Hand wants no part in it.”

Your father didn’t care for Lord Stark personally, but at least they would agree at such a waste of expenses. Being Master, or in your case, acting Master of Ships didn’t mean you were not painfully aware of how much spending your assets should be restricted of just to amuse the growing relentlessness of the King.

Slynt continued. “Call it what you will Lord Stark, the city is packed with people and more flooding in everyday. Last night we had a tavern riot, a brothel fire, three stabbings, and a drunken horse race down the Streets of Sisters.”

Your eyes narrowed, voice loud and yet even with little emotion behind it. It unnerved many how similar you were to the unwelcoming and bluntness of your lord Father. “Discipline should lie with the capabilities of a commander. If you cannot keep the King’s peace during something as innocuous as a tourney, perhaps the City Watch should be commanded by someone whose ability we can rely on.”

Oh the fire in his eyes as he glared at you, spit coming from his mouth as it did his worse. His chest and cheeks puffing like a frog. “I need more men.”

Lord Stark had the final decision however, and you would never dare go against or even speak up against it. Such a thing was not your place, nor would you let it be. “You’ll get fifty, Lord Baelish will see it paid for.” Your own harsh gaze, bordering on a glare peeling over to the Master of Coin seemingly surprised by the notion. Lord Stark’s order firmer then ever. “You found money for a champions purse, you can find money to keep the peace.” Turning to Slynt, “I’ll also give you twenty if my household guard until the crowds have left.”

Giving more men to the one who didn’t know how to command them with fairness was not quite how you felt about such actions, regardless of how the rest of the council didn’t agree. Was it too harsh of a stance, or was it a firm position influenced by what you already knew was incompetence. Janos Slynt was not someone trustworthy, but as long as he got paid he would do the bare minimum.

You and Lord Stark sharing a glance as he relaxed somewhat. “The sooner this is over the better.”

Lord Varys leaning forward, tone as even and light with hope as he could paint it. “The realm prospers from such events, my Lord. They give the great a chance at glory, and the lowly a respite from their woes.”

Legs crossing over the other you sat back in your seat. “It’s not glory those men need more of, Lord Varys I can assure you. They have quite enough of that to go around.”

Lord Baelish leaning far too close to make eye contact with a sly grin. “And yet it puts coins in many a pocket, my Lady. Glory has filled every Inn throughout the city, and the whores are walking bow legged with every step.”

Grin growing more detestable as you looked from him with an uncomfortable glare. Your dear Uncle did not help the matter as he spoke up, a laugh in his lungs doing so. “We’re fortunate my brother Stannis is not with us. Remember when he proposed to outlaw brothels? Robert had asked if he’d like to outlaw eating, drinking, and shitting while he was at it.”

The force to not roll your eyes tested your every power of will. Every sense of faith in a man like your father that they assumed he had suggested or done so on Dragonstone for the superficial. Many Lords in the capital were keen on keeping your father at an arms length and you couldn’t help but speculate how much was truly just his personality, and what was fear deep down.

Afterall, he had two living children, and four which had passed before they could become your brothers. Clearly it wasn’t sex itself that was what he disliked about the premises.

Lord Stark looked to you instead of bothering to even entertain this discussion, calling your name. “You haven’t heard from Lord Stannis have you? He has not formally passed is place on the council to you, I’d have to guess he intends to return from his visit at some point?”

Neither of you said it to the current company, but Lord Stark didn’t quite appreciate the treatment of his new daughter by marriage. Sending you off to be wed out of nowhere, not accompanying or letting your mother or sister come to see you married, and then dragging you away from his son after one night to act on the council in his unexplained absence.

It was unfair to you and Robb, and it also sat rather suspiciously that you had been kept so terribly in the dark with this, and whatever your father had been investigating with Lord Arryn.

Lord Baelish’s tone was as mocking as ever, looking right at you. “No doubt he’ll return as soon as we’ve scourged all those whores into the sea.” You could hear Renly laugh somewhere to your left.

Standing abruptly, you smoothed down your skirt and nodded stiffly. “Until tomorrow, my lords.” As you stepped away you muttered uncaring if you were heard or ignored. “I’ve heard quite enough about my father and whores for one day.”

Renly’s laughter bothered you the whole way out of the small council chamber. You and Lord Stark had business to inquire of Grand Maester Pycelles but you found yourself perfectly content with waiting out of ear from mocking of your lord father for one day.

Words from the night before long since burned in the light of one of your rooms candles, in your pocket now sat one of you own writing and a new one sent to you. A raven from Dragonstone had surprised you only as long as it took to see the neatness of the letters.

Shireen was outraged that she missed your wedding. Had asked a million questions, what did you wear, who attended, did Winterfell have a nicer sept then they? That one you were going to have to explain another time that in your new life, you found more peace in the way the Starks followed that of the old gods. More questions of what is the capitol like with the new hand, was Robb as handsome as she was picturing. A question which even in the privacy of your own room, made you fluster a bit.

Only your dear sister could have you ready to spill about a man your married too, in ways like you were still a girl her age with a petty crush. Her letters always long, and always excited to hear what her well travelled big sister was doing regardless of how little you ever wanted to tell the truth of it anymore.

She was just a child, a rather innocent one at that. You wondered what father told her of the reason behind his sudden return home. Thinking to the two girls you returned to the city with, they too, were too young to have to be around this den of masks and liars. At least Arya’s needle was a bit more of protection then that of Sansa’s naivety.

Grand Maester Pycelle’s office was unbearably stuffy. The scents, the thick air and the mixture of whatever liquids sat both around the surfaces and tucked away into cupboards did not make the heat of summer any easier.

His frail voice seeming having gone on for far too long, “The smallfolk say the last year of summer if always the hottest. It is not often so, but it can feel that way does it not? On days like this, I envy you northerners and your southern snows.”

Both you and Lord Stark standing by his desk, it felt as if he was ready to dismiss before why an audience was requested in the first place. “I’ve been hoping to talk to you about Jon Arryn.”

To his credit, the Grand Maester had the patience to look surprised by the subject but not suspiciously so. “Lord Arryn? His death was a great sadness to us all. I took personal charge of his care, but I could not save him.”

Eyes narrowing slightly with a tilt of your head, you considered back to your own insights. “Did he seem sickly to you before the fever hit him? He hasn’t seemed like himself for some time but it never struck me like a physical ailment.”

Considering the idea, the Grand Maester himself looked a tad shamed. You doubted there wasn’t much he could do, and yet you could see similar feelings of confused failure in like your own once Maester Cressen. “His sickness truck him very hard, and very fast. I saw him in my chambers just the night before he passed. Lord Arryn often came to me for counsel.”

Lord Stark bluntly asking, “Why?”

Your insides rolled over at how indigent and offended the man instantly became at Lord Stark’s mere question. Nothing but worry over pride and image for such people. “I have been Grand Maester for many years. Kings and Hands have come to me for advice since-”

Voice raising enough to speak over him, you cut his tongue back down with the sharpness of your own tone. “Why did Lord Arryn seek you out, the night before he died? What did he want?”

The answer, only brought more questions.

Bringing you and Lord Stark closer in his office to a shelf, many large tomes sat across them as he shakily dragged one onto his desk. Landing it down in front of Lord Stark with a thud. “The lineages and histories of the great houses of the Seven Kingdoms. With descriptions of many high lords, noble ladies, and their children.”

Watching Lord Stark pull off the metal clasp and tossing it down, the book was loose and not well made but the pages inside were vast on thick paper filled to the brim with words in many styles of writing in many degrees of faded letters. Flipping through multiple pages until he landed on one at random, Lord Stark begun reading out one of the passages.

“…blue of eye, brown of hair, and fair complected. Died in his fourteenth year of a wound sustained in a bear hunt.”

Head tilting as he sat back down, “As I said my Lord, a ponderous read.”

“Did Jon Arryn tell you what he wanted with it?”

A slight shake no, of his head. “He did not, my Lord. And I did not presume to ask.”

Skimming the pages, you barley glanced at them before looking up to meet the Grand Maesters eyes but did not find him hiding much behind them. Nothing pertaining to the conversation at least as Lord Stark continued his inquiry. “Jon’s death, did he say anything to you during his final hours.”

Instinctively he denied, “Nothing of import, my Lord.” before pausing his hand raised as if to collect his thoughts within them from his older mind. “There was one phrase he kept repeating. The Seed is Strong, I think it was.”

Your eyes narrowed, “The seed is strong? What does that mean?”

No curiosity in his eyes, “The dying mind is a demented mind, Lady Stark.”

Whatever he said right after, was missed in the brief second of childish notions, much like what Shireen always tried to dish from you. Some familiar just called you by your name, others stuck to the simple My Lady, others such as Ser Jaime Lannister only switched between names in mocking as if there was something usual about a highborn lady taking on the House of their husband.

But hearing Lady Stark so casually, shouldn’t have clicked such a second of girlish glee as it had. You pulled yourself together though, hoping neither noticed your stammer of formality. Lord Stark beside you continuing, “And you’re quite certain he died of a natural illness?”

Grand Maester Pycelle seemed taken back, alleviating guilt at how quick his confusion at such a suggestion was at least ticked a name off your list. “What else could it be?”

Lord Stark seemed like he however, knew what his answer was. “Poison.”

Unwilling to think of such a crime, he shook his head in denial. “A disturbing thought…I don’t think it likely. The Hand was loved by all, what sort of man would dare-”

Your eyes and Lord Stark’s flickered to the other for just a moment, your voice without accusing if only in pure read of your words. “I’ve heard it said poison is a woman’s weapon.”

“Yes. Women, cravens…and eunuchs. Did you know Lord Varys is a eunuch?”

The spinning of mistrust once more, not the game neither you nor Lord Stark cared to get involved with now or ever. Enough was on your plate as it was. There was no conceivable thought of what Lord Varys would gain from murdering Lord Arryn in your mind. Then again, Lysa had named the Lannisters and yet you too had no idea what would be gained by that either.

Nor what trying twice to murder an innocent ten year old boy wold gain. But the signs all pointed to the golden lions.

Finding Arya near the top of the steps balancing on one foot, you smiled. Taking the tome from Lord Stark to his office for him so he could inquire what her dancing teacher had her practising now. Earlier he had commented to you that it felt like everyday Arya came back with new bruises or scratches with a worried furrow in his brow.

You simply had held back a smirk, “If I recall that’s exactly how everyone found out I was learning to sword fight when I was her age.”

Lord Stark had laughed much easier, running a hand over his stubble. “It took us that long to find out because you and Jon would sneak out at night so neither of you would get in trouble.” The first few lessons did have a lot of Jon hitting you harder each time until you got fed up and learned to block properly. “You should be thankful it was me who caught you and not Cat.”

You were twelve at the time, Jon fourteen and even all those years ago still far stronger then you. You couldn’t have imagined how much trouble he would’ve gotten in were it now your own father who caught you two one night.

Sitting now at Lord Stark’s desk, you had been mindlessly flipping through the book. Pausing at random pages before coming across the current accounts of Baratheons. The King first, and his children, then your lord father and his. Including all four which never made it, and a sickening description of Shireen as “disfigured” from her greyscale.

Renly when he thought neither or your father in ear had often referred to Shireen as “that ugly daughter of his” and you hated it. She would’ve been far worse had your father listened to the other Lords. Send her off to old Valyria to be of the stonemen before she infected the whole of Dragonstone.

Dancing over her name with your tapping finger, you told yourself not to. Biting your tongue before your weakness overtook and flipped to the pages of the current Starks. Glancing down to Lord Eddard Stark, then that of Robb did you pause. Shireen asking if he was handsome and certainly the drollness of a Maesters documents did nothing to answer that.

But your eyes skipped down. Looking to the description of Eyes of Grey, black of hair and the beginnings of the letter ‘S’ coming into sight did you slam the book shut with an angry huff. Your best friend for so long, and now his memory tainted with feelings which you both were forced to tear away from.

You’d love to just think of Jon the way you could Theon. Fond memories that weren’t anything more, and none which made the flutter in your stomach getting used to your new husband feel shameful. Hearing Lord Stark’s footsteps you stood up from his seat, leaning against the wall to the side with your arms crossed your chest.

Closing the door behind him, “Do you know a Ser Hugh of the Vale?” Head jolting back you found nothing with such a title and name until Lord Stark elaborated. “He was Jon Arryns squire.” Your lips parting in recognition you turned to look back at him confused. “He was knighted after his murder.”

“Knighted for what?”

Tilting his head he almost smiled. “That’s what you’re going to find out.”

Ser Hugh as it turned out, was exactly the kind of glory seeker you knew didn’t need more cheers and gold bolstering his ego. Down in the open field where they set up the tourney, you recognized him at least while he was in much more average attire. Still nicer then what you recalled he wore as a squire.

“Ser Hugh?”

Your footsteps towards him quick and long, your voice not shouting and yet projecting enough to startle those around as the man turned annoyed towards you. “As you can see, I’m busy.”

Busy taking steps, yes a task needing great concentration to a man of his calibre. Your eyes narrowed in the bright sun making you look far less tolerant of such an attitude. Renly once had said that between the flowing dresses, the light fabric of an equally as long cardigan with hair that looked far nicer unrestricted by whatever styles these girls in the capital pretended were fashionable, you might actually attract a suitor once in a while were it not for you being a perfect copy of your father’s morose and drab glare.

“I’m here on behalf of Lord Eddard Stark, Hand of the King-”

Not giving you a second chance, he waved you off. “Well run along and tell your master if the Hand wishes to speak to me, he should come himself. Knights don’t have time for a servant girls questions.”

Turning and stepping along the path you resisted the urge to see his head smash into the wooden railing he walked beside. There was no point in arguing, he seemed unlikely to be honest if he did answer any questions, and you and Lord Stark had a much more promising visit far down in the streets of the city.

“He said he’d only be willing to talk to the hand himself. A knight such as him.”

You and Lord Stark glancing at the other with a vapid smirk, of course how could you have been such a fool to dare ask anything of a well seasoned warrior such as Ser Hugh of the Vale. Intrepid Knight of Half a Day.

“Ah, a knight. They strut around like roosters down here. Even the one who’ve never seen an arrow coming their way.” The armoury Lord Baelish had directed you towards approached quickly. Sounds of yelling and barters all around and children play fighting in every direction.

Many eyes looked towards the pair riding down the path. Either such a sight was unusual to them, or perhaps all too similar. The Lord Hand and Master of Ships travelling down the poor city streets looking in the same places for the same people, only months after the last pair did the same to no known success.

“We should be careful out here alone, my Lord. There’s no telling which eyes belong to who.” Glancing at him, he seemed unaffected by the idea. Climbing off your horse as he did too, you both steeled in a natural air of cold confidence. Working beside Lord Stark for you was easy, you couldn’t however imagine such an easy pairing in Lord Arryn and your own father.

“Let them look.”

Tobho Mott greeted you both with upmost respect, seemed to be much more relaxed with your presence then he did mention of your lord father. Lord Stark beside you prompting the conversation moreso. “What did Lord Arryn and Lord Stannis want?”

“They came to see the boy.”

Lord Stark saying he’d like to see him as well, Tobho nodded and turned into the forge where the consistent smashing of metals stopped banging. “Gendry,”

Easy to see from his demeanour, it was clear he was likely either incredibly lowborn, or even a slave must to your dismay. He didn’t look at either you or Lord Stark in the eye, standing straight and respectable, but did not think he had the right to make eye contact.

You stood still, trying to see what it is that would be on any interest to the lords before. Not just that, what was seen which scared your father back to Dragonstone, and Lord Arryn into the grave? The three men went back and forth for a while over the ornate bulls helmet which he had made himself, easing the pair into the inquiry.

His voice didn’t give much away, but a tint of attitude which wasn’t unfamiliar. Taller then, you, his hair was dark to the point of a deep brown and by your guess would be a a little younger then you. Lord Stark changed subject, “When Lord Arryn came to visit you what did you talk about?”

Not looking still, your eyes narrowed as something pricked at your skin. “Just as me questions is all, milord.” Next asked if your father had ever questioned him, was a rare moment that made you break a smirk and eyes lit up with an amusement not often seen of you in Kings Landing. “No, he never said a word. Just glared at me like I was some raper who done for his daughter.”

Mott turning and raising his voice. “Watch your tongue boy. This is Lord Stannis’s own daughter you’re speaking too.” Turning to you with sincere apology in his eyes you couldn’t seem to look away from Gendry. He apologized, but you only found yourself looking at him with a more scrupulous gaze.

You tried, but whatever pricked at your skin settled over every corner of it until you wanted to twitch with unease. Lord Stark spoke for you, sensing that you were seeing something close to what he was slowly putting together. “What kind of questions did Lord Arryn ask?”

“About my work at first. If I was being treated well, if I liked it here. But then he started asking me questions about my mother.”

You spoke up before you could stop yourself. “Your mother?” Gendry specifying he meant just who she was and what she looked like, you continued to speak first unable to keep the intensity away out of your gaze on him. “What did you tell him?”

“She died when I was little. She had yellow hair, she’d sing to me sometimes.”

You couldn’t say why it clicked, but it did. Stepping forward you were sharper with him then you may have intended, “Look at me.”

Meeting your eyes, you felt that sensation shiver through your body like you had just been tossed in a river. There was no denying what it was you were seeing. Had you not known better, you could’ve mistaken Gendry for your own brother. The green eyes wide and bright, hair so dark and thick, the strength in resemblance of his facial structure and all linking back to why the snark of attitude pinged at you.

Almost in shock you leaned back, glancing to Lord Stark who briefly flickered to meet your eyes with an unsettled understanding of what you were seeing. You didn’t like what you were feeling in any way. Lord Stark handed him back the bull helmet, “Get back to work, lad.”

Diligently, he left further into the forge and the hammering started once again as Lord Stark spoke quietly to Mott. “If a day ever comes that boy would rather wield a sword then forge one, you send him to me.”

Coming up to Renly’s quarters, your head was in a spin and something told you to go anywhere that wasn’t where all your questions had laid. Knocking on his door, you almost jumped back in surprise by the one who actually answered.

Taller then you with a darkish dirty blonde hair rung up into curls that most girls you know envied with passion, Ser Loras also stood before you shirtless in a manner you amusingly knew a certain young redheaded Stark would’ve had her cheeks turn just as red at the sight off. Luckily for you, the shock on his face and the smirk on yours already knew the story better.

Walking in as you brushed past him, you raised your eyebrows at your Uncle now rushing to cover his own chest as if you were stupid enough not to know. “My Lady, apologies we were just-”

Turning to Loras beside you, you smirked wider with a playful squint in your eye. “Ser Loras, a word of advice. If you wish your private affairs to remain private, maybe don’t answer my Uncle’s door when you’re both still shirtless and this one’s still in bed.” You nodded over to the annoyed Renly.

Loras couldn’t decide if he was annoyed or horrified, but left as soon as he could be considered half way presentable. Door closing behind him, you walked in further, leaning against Renly’s desk. “I know discretion isn’t your strong suit Renly, but maybe if he’s trying to keep it a secret at least pretend you two aren’t locked up in bed half the time.”

Rolling his eyes, he reached passed out to pour himself wine. “Aren’t you missing your tournament?”

Shaking your head at his offer of a glass to you, “Oh am I Hand of the King, now?”

Glaring, he rested beside you against the desk as he sipped. “Spending enough time with him, it’s easy to mistaken I suppose. Much like my dear brother seemed.” Glancing beside you, you said nothing as he continued with mocking joy. “Jon and Stannis spend an increasing amount of time together only to stop when one of them dies and the other runs away out of reach. Only difference is the Hand this time is a wolf, but the Stag stays the same. Or are you a wolf now too?”

Pushing off smug with himself, you crossed your arms. “I married into a house of wolves, my name is theirs now, I suppose yes dear Uncle I am a wolf now if such a distinction matters.” Titling your head you were far less amused now and much more openly accusatory. “Does that make you a rose, or just a stag stupid enough to let roses tie themselves around him?”

He glared at you, “My relationship-”

“I’m not talking about Loras. Not for that. I’m talking about the less time you spend doing your duty the more I seem to find you spending time whispering with the Tyrells.” The guilt on his face grew tenfold as you slammed more to the open air. “You didn’t hide very well what your plan for his sister was, Margaery was it?”

Oh you hit a wound. Renly face twisting into a snarl unbecoming of someone like him. “Plan?”

Crossing your arms you didn’t move an inch but your eyes trained on his with scrutiny. “What was it my father said you planned, trying to make dear Margaery, Robert’s whore?” He paled but you didn’t let him blabber. “Everyone in the seven kingdoms knows he’s got enough of those, so I have to ask why exactly try to send the pretty girl from Highgarden into the bed of our well rode, drunken King, and then you yourself having the same ride by her own brother?”

He shrugged, but did not do well at hiding his anxiety. “You and Stannis are missing out, Tyrells are quite interesting in bed.”

You raised your eyebrows. “So are wolves, I’ve found.”

“Did you come here for this or what?”

Pushing up you walked more to the middle of the room. “No, actually I came here to ask if you’re going to the tournament tomorrow.”

Renly’s eyes flickered side to side, “Most likely. Why?”

You shrugged, losing all pretense of suspicion for now. “Just wondering if I’ll have someone to talk to who doesn’t make me want to tear into my palms.” Renly laughed, telling you this was the wrong place for that.

Sitting down on the edge of his bed, for a brief moment he looked actually concerned. “I know I joke about it, but the capital doesn’t suit you does it?” He smiled when you shook your head no. “You know every time you came back from Winterfell you looked miserable. You hated coming back here and each time you come back a little more fed up then the time before.”

You said nothing as you looked blankly at him. There was nothing to deny, coming back here was always the worst and it never stopped being the worst until you were back with the Starks.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come to your wedding.”

You shrugged. Not the answer or even emotion he expected, but you were just looking at him.

The wide bright eyes, the shape of his cheeks, jaw, the colours in those eyes and the darkness of the thick hair he was so bad at letting grow out just like your father. All you could think of was what in those looks scared your father out of the city.

What did he find in those looks that was so bad it got Lord Arryn killed. You and Lord Stark had many clues but no hints except for one glaring one. You had returned to the horses, nearby where Jory had been waiting.

When he asked if you two had found anything, you hadn’t been quite the same since realizing what Lord Stark had. All you could see when looking at Renly now, was what Lord Stark told Jory then.

Something that had no right being a clue to such a dark mystery and yet here you were, standing before water as murky then ever only this time it was your own kin that was being told as the dangers to look out for.

Gendry wasn’t just a tiny clue of no meaning, somewhere in Lord Arryn’s death was a page about finding King Robert’s bastard son.

[disasterofastory]

Spring (Ivar x Reader)

Spring modern!Ivar x Reader Warnings: smut

We decided to deep-clean and declutter our entire apartment, can’t be too embarrassing what we find, right? - from THIS prompt list

Spring is your favorite season. The weather gets better, you can change your winter clothes, and you can buy fresh flowers to decorate the small flat you live in with your housemate, Ivar. The sun is already up when you go to work and still shines when you go home after a long day. For you, this is the season you can start with a new page and not New Year as for the others. The first thing you do when the spring comes is deep-clean the entire house. You wash down the windows, move the furniture to clean under them and declutter everything you do not need anymore. When you are done, the whole apartment is clean and smells good.

Ivar loves it.

But he hates it if he has to help you.

“Your room is the next,” you tell him, placing your hand on your hip. You look around the kitchen and living room with a satisfied but tired sigh. Everything is in order, and you love the feeling you get from it. You changed the pillowcases, vacuumed the couch and everything you could after you scrubbed down the whole kitchen. The air smells like furniture cleaner with a pine scent in it. “We don’t have to,” he tells you, standing up from the sofa. “I can do it myself.” “Don’t be silly. I can help,” you smile. “It will be faster.” “Y/N! Seriously, I don’t need your help.” “I know you don’t need it, but I’m glad to help,” you answer stubbornly, moving into his room. He follows you with an annoyed sigh. His dark hair is tied in a bun, and his green shirt and sweatpants are dusty from cleaning. You open the window to let in some fresh air and go to his wardrobe while he sits down on his bed. “Y/N…” Ivar starts again, but you don’t let him argue anymore. “Sort out the clothes you need,” you tell him, and he has no other choice but obey.

Living with Ivar is much easier than a few years ago. When you moved in, he was rude and avoided you. You had to be stubborn and shameless to accept you as his friend. Since then, you met his family, you even celebrated a few holidays with him, and you were there for him when he broke up with Freydis. You know his moodiness and his sometimes spiteful nature, and you learned to handle it.

“I can’t believe it. It’s Sunday, and I have to clean,” he grunts, moving to his bookshelf to continue the work. “You can rest the whole week next week. We don’t work, remember?” You can smell his cologne, putting down the used sheets to wash it later. “We should turn the mattress over,” you tell him, leaning down to grab it. “Y/N! Wait! No!” He yells, but it’s too late. At first, you don’t even know why he is so upset about it and what do you hold in your hands. Then you look at it better. It’s lacy and red. And it’s yours. You open your mouth to say something, but you can’t utter a word out. “Get out!” Ivar shouts at you. His face is red from anger and embarrassment. “Leave!”

You run out of his room with your panties between your hands. His door bangs loudly behind you, and you jump from the noise. You move back to your room, closing the door before you sit down on the bed. Your head is full of thoughts. You are afraid to think why it was in his room, but at the same time, it makes you… excited. With a heavy sigh, you fall back on your pillows, staring up to the ceiling.

The next week is hard. Ivar avoids you, and you avoid him too. The only way you know he is home because you hear his crutches outside your room. You imagine a million and one conversations with him, but you are not brave enough to make the first move. You know he is angry, embarrassed, and humiliated, but you are those things too! What if the only way to solve this to move out? Is your friendship over? Does he never want to talk with you again? It’s ridiculous that you are the one who feels bad when he is the pervert.

But…

You are a pervert too.

You imagined him laying on his bed with your panties in his hands, while with his other hand he… Yeah, you are in big trouble.

You spend your days in your room, till one morning you have enough of this. If it depends on Ivar, you two will never talk again. Still, in your pajamas with newfound bravery, you march over to his room without knocking. He jumps on his bed when you burst into the room and stare at him angrily. “Now what?” You ask him. “How long do you play this nonsense? You want me to move out?”

You are furious, but not because of the panties. And you feel like an idiot because of it. You are furious because you can lose Ivar. Yes, it's hard to deal with Ivar sometimes. He can be moody and angry for nothing, but at the same time, he can be attentive if he wants to. He always lets you watch your favorite series even if he wants to watch something else. He makes you coffee and breakfast if he knows you have to wake up early. Your whole relationship is about taking care of each other, even if it's hard at times.

“Y/N,” he says, you know he is suffering under your waiting gaze. “I don’t know what you are waiting for from me. I don’t know how I could make this right.” “An explanation, for example.” “I didn’t plan it,” he starts. “I helped you clean your room the other day, and before I knew it, I… stole your panties. I didn’t do anything with it, I promise! I wanted to bring it back, but you walked up and down in the house the whole day, and I couldn’t.” “But why?” You ask him, calmer this time. You sit down on his bed next to him. He still looks at you like a deer in the headlights. His hair is messy, and his face is flushed. “I…” he starts, licking his dry lips. “I love you, okay? I just didn’t know how to tell you, and I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, but I ruined it anyway, didn’t I?” “No,” you answer. “It was worst that I had to avoid you all week than… the panties.” “Please, tell me how I could make it right, and I will do it,” he begs you, placing his hand on yours, squeezing it. He can’t even look into your eyes as you stare at him, thinking.

He loves you…

“I tell you something,” you decide. “But you have to promise me whatever happens, you won’t get angry, and you won’t avoid me. You have to learn to communicate with me even if it’s hard or embarrassing.” “I promise,” he nods repeatedly. You lick your lips, before with a determined sigh, you lean closer to his ear. You support yourself on his bare chest, so you feel his heartbeat speeds up at your touch. “I imagined you several times this week,” you confess. Your voice is almost a whisper. “What?” He asks you, confused but intrigued. You feel powerful with the knowledge he loves you, and you want to enjoy this opportunity because you know Ivar. He can’t be long without control. “I imagined you, laying on this bed,” you start. “And jerking off with my panties around your cock.” You see his Adam’s apple jumping as he gulps with a quiet squeak. You almost laugh at his expression. He really looks like a deer in the headlight with his blue eyes and open mouth. “What?” He repeats it breathlessly. “Don’t say you didn’t imagine it,” you say, still smiling. “Don’t say you didn’t want to play with it while you touch yourself. You didn’t imagine me wearing it with the matching bra while I moan your name?” “Don’t play with me,” he begs. He still can’t believe it's really happening. The woman he loves is almost on top of him, telling him things to get him aroused.

He loves you for a long time now. At first, it started as a crush while he was with Freydis. He found your perfume sweet, and he always liked your laugh. His feelings grew and grew till he couldn't deny them anymore. He broke up with Freydis, but he never had enough bravery to confess his love for you. And he definitely never imagined it like this.

“I don’t,” you promise him more seriously, caressing his blushed cheek. “I can’t think of anyone else but you, since the… you know, panties-incident.” “Oh, Gods!” He closes his eyes, cringing. “Can you not tell it like this again?” “Oh, come on!” You laugh. “I want to see it.” “See what?” He asks you. “Touching yourself with my panties around you,” you confess, biting your lip. Ivar stares into your eyes for a few seconds, thinking you joke with him, but when he sees you are serious, he gulps and nods. “Give me what you wear,” he orders you, and you almost squeal from happiness. You already feel damp between your legs as you stand up to take off your clothes. You try to lengthen the process and give him a show as you take off your pajamas and finally your panties. You see his hand shaking as he reaches out for it, and you let him take it. You climb above his knees carefully. Your legs spread a little, enough for him to see your wetness while you watch him pushing down his grey pants to free himself.

His whole body shakes from excitement. You are his dream girl, and now you are here above him, naked and waiting.

He places your black laced panties around his erection, and you moan just from the sight. His breath gets heavier and heavier as he moves his hand up and down on his shaft. His muscles tense on his stomach and his arms flex from his movements. “Play with yourself,” he says huskily. His blue eyes stare at your naked form. You reach down between your legs and give him a show, circling your waist as your fingers move. With your other hand, you start to massage one of your breasts, and the only reason you don’t close your eyes from the pleasure because you can’t look away from Ivar’s member. He is hard and ready. Your panties move up and down under his touch. After a few minutes like this, you lean down to his cock and start to jerk him off yourself before you take him in your mouth. He is warm, and your eyes almost roll back to your head at the feeling. Your ears ring from his hoarse moans, and you speed up your pace to hear it again. He grabs your hair, your scalp burns as he pushes you down on him more till he hits your throat. “Gods, Y/N!” He shouts in ecstasy. You look up at him under your eyelashes. “Come here,” he orders. You move up to him, paying attention to his legs. One of his arms goes around your back to pull you closer to him while the other one grabs your breast to his mouth. He licks and bites your nipple to his heart content and moves his hand down to your pussy. You massage his scalp as you try to stay in place, but you can’t stay like this any longer, and he knows it. “Ride me,” he says, letting you go. You move above his manhood and slowly sink down on him. You both moan at the feeling, and for a few minutes, neither of you move. He enjoys your warm tightness while you try to memorize the fullness you feel in yourself. “You are beautiful,” he sighs, staring at you. His foggy eyes jump from your eyes to your moaning mouth and down on your whole body, and he stops on your joined parts.

He knows he can never forget this sight and feeling. You look beautiful above him and around him. Your hair is disheveled, and your eyes shine with pleasure. Your thighs flex as you move, and your breasts jump up and down with your rhythm. He feels your weight on his chest as you lean on him. His skin is red in the wake of your nails.

“I love you,” he says between two grunts, grabbing your hips. “I love you too,” you moan, leaning more on him to kiss his lips for the first time. The kiss is messy as you still move up and down on him but enough for him to cum. You move back up to your original position, reaching down between your legs to speed up your pleasure. Your whole body is shaking and tingling as you lay down next to Ivar with his help. “You meant it?” He asks you softly, cuddling you to his body while you caress his chest after a few minutes. “That you love me?” “Yes,” you smile at him. “I really love you.” “I love you too.”

[littlemissnoname13]

Wisps of Smoke (Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader) - Part four

Summary: Y/n and Draco find themselves drawn to an abandoned classroom every night

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader ft. Pansy Parkinson, Theo Nott, Blaise Zabini

Warnings: Excessive smoking, Drinking, mature language and themes, sex, masturbation, 18+ content, reader discretion is highly advised

A/n: as always, thank you for reading WOS. This story has gotten so close to my heart over the last few weeks of writing it and I am grateful for every one that read part 1,2,3. And to everyone who guessed the Astoria plot line, Damn ya’ll are too good! 

I’d like to stress that smoking is injurious to health.

Word count: almost 4000

Part One, two & three if you haven’t caught up already

Thursday (Continued)

With his palms resting flat on the shower wall and his grey eyes fixed on the floor below, Draco allowed the lukewarm water to trail down his body and calm his nerves. 

Between the restlessness he’d felt after his father’s visit and the stinging feeling of remembering just what was expected of him, he’d barely managed to sleep a wink for three consecutive nights.

And how could he have gone to sleep when he knew you were in that classroom—waiting for him in your silky little dress. 

Oh..wait a minute. 

He smirked to himself when he remembered that he had destroyed the top half of your dress in an attempt to tug it off your shoulders. 

You looked absolutely stunning with the bottom half of your dress pushed back as you spread your legs wide open on top of a classroom desk—he had fucked you so fucking hard that day. 

Draco wrapped his hand around his length and began to pump slowly as he recalled the way you wrapped your legs around his torso as he moved in and out of you.

Your moans. 

He wondered if you were even aware of the effect your moans had on him. 

The way his name slipped out of your cherry lips and the way your tits bounced with every thrust only made him want to drive deeper into you. 

He let out a sharp grunt as he started to pump harder, fantasising about all the places he’d fuck you in.

He’d press you up against the shower wall and push himself deep into your cunt from behind, he’d lay you down on his desk and eat you out till you were a quivering mess before driving in and out of you, he would bend you over one of the common room sofas and fuck you so hard and fast if he ever got the chance to. 

He’d make you cum time and again till you were sore and dripping with his release—fuck. 

Draco let his high take all over him for a brief moment before opening his eyes when he heard his dresser drawer creak. 

He dismissed the strange sound and washed the remaining soap from his body before stepping out and towel drying his hair. 

“Draco! Y/n is here to see you.”  

Astoria? What on earth is she doing here? This can’t be good.

He frantically wrapped the towel around his torso and stepped outside the bathroom.

“Y/n what are you doing here?” He asked, observing the eye bags under your eyes. You were wearing a loose fitted white shirt with the sleeves pushed back and the top two buttons undone.

If Astoria wasn’t gaping at the exchange between the two of you, he would have had you pinned against the wall already. 

“I—I Just—” you began but before you could reach the end of your sentence, Theo jogged up to his door and stood right next to you, panting.

“Oh, you’re all here.Good.” He said with excitement saturated into his voice. “Apparently, there’s a party this Saturday night in the room of requirement and we are going—I am not taking no for an answer.” 

“That sounds like so much fun.” Astoria grinned and looked at Draco expectantly,making your stomach twist.

“It’s not like we have a choice.” Draco muttered still looking at you while Astoria beamed at him. 

“So, Y/n you were saying something?” Astoria politely turning the conversation back to you.

“I actually just came in here to talk about the party too.” You lied looking Draco directly in the eye.

Friday

Even though you were walking to class while bumping into a sea of students, your head was somewhere else. 

But of course Malfoy was sleeping around with other girls!

How could you have forgotten?! Maybe he was shagging Astoria outside that classroom the other nig—

“Going somewhere?” Draco asked as soon as he grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you into a gap in the corridor. 

“Yes, Away from you!” You spat angrily. “And I don’t appreciate you lurking around, pushing me into a wall every chance you get.”

“I just needed to talk to you y/l/n.”

“About what? Your girlfriend?” You blurted, instantly regretting your decision.

“She is not my girlfriend.”

“Oh yeah? Then what is she?!” 

What you heard next made the ground crumble from beneath you and you couldn’t help but wish you had paid more attention to your mother’s letters—especially the one about the announcement at the New year’s ball. 

~~~~~~~⚜️~~~~~~

Dear Y/n,

Your father and I are looking forward to having you back home for Christmas. 

It will give us some quiet family time before the New Year’s Ball hosted by the Malfoys. I’ve heard it through the grapevine that young Malfoy is getting betrothed to one of the Greengrass sisters and they will officially be announcing the betrothal that night. 

Isn’t that absolutely fantastic?  

Let me know what sort of dress robe you’d like to wear to the Ball this year. I will make necessary arrangements. 

Send my regards to Adrian. 

Love,

Mum

~~~~~~~⚜️~~~~~~~

Saturday

Vodka always tasted unpleasant to say the least. In fact, it burned. 

But it burned a lot less than the burn you felt watching Astoria reclining against Draco across the room.

Vodka always gave the worst type of hangover and with every gulp, you knew you were on a steady path to a regretful morning after. 

But the morning after drowning yourself in unadulterated vodka shots was better than watching the soon to be Fiancé of the boy you were slowly harbouring feelings for wear his blazer on top of her silver sequinned dress. 

What kind of a deranged person gets jealous over someone that was never theirs to begin with?

You forced yourself to tear your eyes away from the ridiculously attractive blonde boy dressed in all back, knocked back a few shots and happily accepted Pansy’s hand as she pulled you to the dance floor. 

One minute you were jumping around with Pansy, Blaise and Theo and the next minute, you were seeing nothing but pitch black darkness.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Firm arms gripped your waist as you staggered back to your room after blacking out at the party. In all honesty, the person walking you wasn’t much help either with his bloodshot eyes and unsteady footsteps. 

“You— you shouldn’t have walked me to my room.” 

“I know.” Draco said simply as he watched you walk shakily up to your door.

“Go back to the party Draco.” You said with your voice wavering as he slowly inched closer and closer to you till you were firmly pressed against the door. “You know you shouldn’t be here right now.”

“I know.” He said once again before pressing his own Firewhisky laced lips with yours. “I know.” 

Maybe it was the intoxication, maybe it was the way he held firmly onto your waist as his tongue collided with your own but you used your wand to unlock your door with your mouth still attached to his. 

Both of you entered the room bumping into furniture, leaving a trail of clothes all the way to your bed.

Sunday

“What is happening to this world again? Can someone please walk me through?— I am simply too hungover right now.” Pansy groaned, scratching her head as he opened the door to your shared dorm with Theo and Blaise right behind her. 

Having partied all night long, all three of them were too tired to make sense of the scene in front of them. 

“Yeah, I thought Malfoy was with Astoria now.” Theo scratched his chin at the sight of your head on Draco’s chest as you both slept. 

Pansy’s eyes widened when she heard Astoria’s name as she quickly ran inside the room. 

“Wake the fuck up you idiots.” She yelled using her wand to draw away the curtains making Draco groan as the morning light hit his eyes. 

“What’s all this ruckus about.” You mumbled snuggling closer to Draco as your eyes slowly opened to see a glaring pansy accompanied by Theo and Blaise. 

“I have invited Astoria up here to hang out with us, so both of you have a lot of explaining to do before she gets here.”

Monday

“So let me get this straight.” Theo began, as he took a long drag from one of Draco’s cigarettes. “Both of you have been fucking around—traumatising poor Blaise for the last two weeks, correct?”

Draco rolled his eyes, scoffing as he lit up another cigarette while you shrugged. 

The four of you were at the astronomy tower, reclining against the railings as the day faded away into a chilly winter evening. 

“And you two claim that you are not together, correct?”

At this, both you and Draco turned to look at each other—as if questioning each other about the status of your relationship. 

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” You finally said, slowly breaking eye contact with Draco. “He is getting betrothed to Astoria anyway.”

“And you’re okay with this?” Pansy asked, her face barely visible from all the smoke she was exhaling. 

“Never been better.” You lied, reaching for a cigarette for yourself. You placed the filter end in between your lips and lit it up, inhaling quickly. 

The second you did, tears automatically started to stream from your eyes as you started to cough. 

Draco shook his head and turned to you. 

“Here.” He muttered taking a step towards you, before taking a deep drag from the cancer stick in between his fingers. 

With his free hand raked inside your hair, he pulled your face closer to his until his lips were barely touching yours.

“Inhale y/n.” He murmured, as wisps of smoke left his lips and entered yours. 

You were too preoccupied by his proximity to notice the gagging sounds your friends were making beside you. 

Tuesday

On your way to the library after class, you heard the voice of Lucius Malfoy right outside the dungeons. 

He was going on and on about a ring and how irresponsible Draco was for not getting one made already. Christmas holidays were nearing and Lucius was sure Draco would tarnish the Malfoy family name by not having a ring made on time.

You simply didn’t understand why the Malfoy’s couldn't just use an old family heirloom but you decided to not question it as you walked past them—watching the tired and defeated expression on Draco’s face.

Wednesday

Draco lay on his bed, fiddling with an oval cut emerald ring with the letter “M” engraved on the back of it. The ring had been with the Malfoy women for generations and he simply could not picture the ring on Astoria’s fingers. 

And even though he had no say on his betrothal, he wanted to have a say on the ring and so he had insisted on getting something else made for Astoria. 

But the last two weeks had gone by in a matter of seconds so he did not find the time to, and could not even be bothered to go and have another ring made.

He had known about his impending engagement since the beginning of the year. He’d taken Astoria out several times but he knew there was nothing to that relationship besides sex and chaste kisses on the cheeks exchanged during family dinners.

He didn’t really mind at first, everything felt fine and he simply craved the validation of his father. 

Draco was doing just fine before you came along. 

Sure, life was a little lacklustre. The sky wasn’t as azure, his morning coffee wasn’t as aromatic, and cigarettes were simply means of deteriorating his lungs.

But now, things had shifted a little. 

He felt happier than he had felt in a really long time.

Just as he was opening up his drawer to put away the family heirloom, you knocked on his door—looking breathless. 

“I’m sorry but I overheard your conversation with your father and I think I might be able to help.”

“Huh?” Draco asked, tilting his head,watching you as you grabbed his left hand and dropped a shiny Amethyst ring in the palm of his hands. 

“I had it made for my birthday last month.” You shrugged, it’ll help you keep your father off your back till you get another made.”

If he hadn't fallen in love with you already, he surely did in that particular moment, as he pulled you into his arms, desperately crashing his lips on top of yours. 

Fuck validation. 

Fuck everything. 

Fuck everyone. 

Thursday

Your back firmly pressed against his bare chest—his heart beat calm and steady. 

Draco had his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he possessively pulled you closer to him the way he always did. 

That is how you had woken up. 

Cuddled up with him in his incredibly snug and comfortable bed within four walls enclosed with the smell of bourbon, mixed with the smell of soap, sex and his absurdly expensive cigarettes. 

Even with your eyes still shut, your lips couldn’t help but curve upwards when you felt his breathing gently tickle the back of your neck. 

That is how you had woken up that morning and you honestly wouldn’t mind waking up like that for the mornings to come. 

“Morning Y/l/n.” 

His raspy and deep morning voice sent shivers down your spine as his soft lips came in contact with the spot right below your ears. 

“Morning.” 

He continued to sensually suckle and nibble that particular spot and you suddenly found yourself wanting to be suckled and nibbled on other places. 

“Draco.” You hummed pushing yourself further into his embrace. There was something so fulfilling and satisfying about the way you fit into each other's embraces. Entangled arms, limbs and all. 

The hands that were wrapped securely around your waist now trailed upwards until they found your breasts. 

The feel of his hands taking their own sweet time—softly kneading your sensitive flesh was enough to have you writhing against him 

He made sure to take his time and give equal attention to both your breasts, using his slender fingers to pinch and tug at your hardened buds till you were pushing your hips further back towards him—craving friction, any type of friction really. 

“Easy now.” He lazily whispered into your ear as you started to grind your hips urgently against his erection aching to feel him inside of you again. 

You were empty and missed the feeling of being full but he was nowhere near done with worshiping your breasts—making you restless and impatient with each squeeze. 

“Draco.” You tilted your head backwards and sighed into his neck.“I—I need you to fuck me. Please—I just want to feel you inside me.” 

Draco let out a small chuckle at the directness of your words.

If someone had told him that the same girl that tried to hex him so many times in the past would be saying that to him, he would have told them to get themselves checked at st. Mungos. 

“Relax Darling. I’ll take take of you.” He murmured before trailing his lips down your neck and towards your shoulder placing mellow and relaxed kisses all the way. 

“Draco please.” You whined, grinding your hips harder—desperate tears threatening to leak out of your eyes when you felt his hand on your hip, slowing you down. 

“That’s it. Such a good girl.” He whispered encouragingly into your ear as you let his hands guide you—moving your hips in excruciatingly slow circles against him while he resumed kissing your neck and bare shoulders. 

“Atta girl. Yes that’s it. Keep doing that.” 

His kisses were a stark contrast to his lustful, ravenous and angry kisses from the previous night and the kisses only left you craving even more.

“Please Draco—Fuck me. Please just fuck me.” 

“Look at you, begging for it.” He said in a hoarse whisper as the tip of his cock made contact with your already soaking wet folds and all you could do was let out a muffled moan into your pillow. 

The tip of his cock only slipped halfway inside of you before he pulled out again, teasing.

“You’re dripping wet.” 

“Draco..” you whined.

“Tell me darling, who made your pussy this wet?” 

“You did. Draco Lucius Malfoy—Only you.” 

He loved hearing you beg, he loved it only second to the way you said moaned his name and so he finally entered you allowing his cock to completely stretch you out and fill you up. 

With his perfect teeth bared, Draco peppered kisses onto your shoulders, nibbling gently as he rocked his hips at a slow but steady pace—all the while mumbling sweet nothings into your skin about how well you took him, and how good he felt being inside of you.

The way his skilled hands tugged, twisted and pinched your nipples made you feel an other worldly sort of pleasure—causing you to whimper and moan his name,moving your own hips, trying to feel him deeper inside your walls.

“Shhhh—easy there.” He whispered against your neck. “Just let go.. Focus on feeling every inch of me buried deep inside your pretty little cunt. Can you do that for me?” 

You nodded and stopped moving your hips and used  one of your arms to hold onto his neck as you relaxed into him. 

“That’s it y/n, Just like that.” He coaxed, running his hand up and down your body before firmly resting on your hip as he fucked you nice and slow. 

There was something different and unexpected about his thrusts, something strange and foreign about the way he used his thumb to rub slow and sensual circles on your clit.

“You feel so good y/n. Your pussy feels so amazing.” 

Your moans muddled into one and his movements rocked the bed as he made love to you, pushing you closer and closer towards your orgasm. 

“Fuck—Im so close.” You moaned, burying your head deep into the pillow as Draco picked up his pace pushing his cock in harder and deeper with each thrust. 

“Oh fuck. yes Draco..yes.” You moaned as he dug his nails onto your hips forming crescent shaped indentations as he pushed himself deeper, hitting just the right spot over and over again, making your walls clench up. 

“Draco…” 

“Cum for me, Angel. Cum with me.” He groaned,making both of you ride out our highs till his warm seed spurted deep inside of you. 

When he pulled out of you, some of the warm liquid had already managed to seep out of you and trickle down your inner thigh.  

After taking a brief second to catch his breath, Draco shifted lower into the bed till he was in just in between your legs. 

“I could get used to waking up like this.” He smirked looking up at you. His platinum blonde hair was slightly wavy and kind of fluffy, falling on his forehead but not yet covering his stormy greys. 

“Like what?” You teased. 

“Don't play with me y/l.n.” He warned with a wicked gleam making the grey hues in his eyes brighten into a brilliant. It felt like his eyes changed colors from blue to grey according to his moods. 

“I could get used to waking up like this too.” You said softly as he tried to push back everything that had managed to trickle out. 

Right before Draco could even reply, his door creaked open. 

“Malfoy, Astoria is waiting for you in the common roo—fuck not this again.” Blaise groaned as you pulled the sheets over your body. 

Friday

On your last evening at school before Christmas break, you found yourself perched on the windosill, nestled in between Draco’s arms and limbs in the classroom that started it all.

The pad of his right thumb traced slow, almost lazy circles on your hand while he held his cigarette in his left hand. 

The lit tip of his cigarette was the same shade as the sunset in the tangerine sky and you took deep breaths to try and soak him and the smoke rings that escaped his lips up because you weren't sure if you’d get to be with him again. 

“What are you doing y/l/n?” He asked when he noticed you breathing in and out. 

“Nothing.” 

“Please.” Draco chuckled, taking a long drag from his cigarette. “You have that look on your face.”

“What look?” you asked, turning your head to look at him—the way the last rays of the setting sun caught up on his eyelashes only making you fall harder than you already had.

“This look y/n.” He kinked his eyebrows and tried to mimic your expression. “This is the look you have on your face wherever you are up to something—like  when you try and fix your failed potion in Potions class. Actually, you even make this face when you mix sugar into your tea.” 

“Im just—” You clicked your tongue in frustration. “I’m just going to miss this, I guess.” 

Your words made his expressions soften because he understood. 

How could he have not?

He had spent the whole of last night watching you sleep—the way your chest was rising and falling, the way your heart was beating against his.

He had spent the last hour trying to store the scent of your fruity shampoo deep inside his memory banks because he wasn’t sure if there would be a next time. 

“Let’s stay back at Hogwarts”  He mumbled, pulling you closer to him. “It’ll just be us, it will be good.”

“If only.” You sighed as you rested the back of your head at the crook of his neck. “But I have to go back home and explain the whole situation with Adrian and you…” 

Both of you went silent for a bit. 

“Give me your hand y/n.” He finally broke the silence as you turned around and  looked at him quizzically. “I want to give you something.”

You turned your body around so you could face him better. The strong winter breeze blew his hair towards his eyes, making you want to reach up and push those stray hairs away. Instead, you simply placed your hand on his. 

“Close your eyes.” 

You rolled my eyes at him before squeezing your eyes shut. 

“Are they closed?” 

You nodded and you felt him slip something onto your finger and you quickly  opened one eye to take a peek and It didn't even take you a second to realize he had slipped an emerald ring from onto your finger.

“Draco. I really don’t think this is a good idea.” 

“I thought I told you to keep your eyes shut.” He snapped. 

“But I can’t take this.” 

“I owed you a ring y/n.” He said holding your hand in his to look at the ring on your finger making a type of warmth spread over your entire body. “Keep it till I get the other ring made.” 

You simply stared at the ring unable to form words with your mouth until you felt him shift beside you as he got back up to his feet. 

“Don’t overthink it y/n—I’ll see you at the ball.” 

You hummed as you quietly watched him walk away from you, ignoring the stab your felt in your heart with every step he took. But before you could process your emotions fully, Draco turned on his heel and walked towards you— instantly cupping your face in his hands. 

“Draco what are-”

His lips ardently crushed yours before you could even finish your sentence

There was an abrupt kind of finality in the way he moved his lips against yours. It was like he was kissing you for the last time . 

“I’ll be thinking of you y/l/n.” 

To be continued..

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

Part 5 teaser:

Draco’s features softened as he slowly shifted and got up from the reading nook in his bedroom to fully open his window.

You shielded yourself as cold drops of rain started to hit your face. “What in the actual fuck?”

“Shut up and follow me.” He said as he climbed out of the window and onto the ledge.

“Are you mental?”

“Just do as I say.” He said helping you onto the ledge.

Both of you laughed hysterically as the rain seeped through our clothes as you sat on the ledge with you bare feet dangling in the air.

One wrong move and both of you could fall to your respective deaths. But there came an adrenaline rush with the risk of it all.

___________________________

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[itsstrange]

Coffee Run & Green Eyes

Series: Spark Between Us

Relationship: Jensen Ackles x Skyline McNoir (OFC)

A/N: Hey everyone! I know it’s been a long time and I apologize for those waiting for more stories, but if you follow me on IG then you would know that this last week I was struck with a stomach flu which caused me to not have enough energy for various things. Luckily, I’ve recovered and feel much better. I also want to apologize to those who have requested me some stories, don’t worry I have Not forgotten about you! Just been dealing with some things!

But!! To not keep you guys in the dark I decided to post a Series I wrote for Ao3 on here, just to give y’all something to read meanwhile I work on some other works for y’all!! Hope y’all enjoy it!

Another thing, we have hit 105 followers y’all!!!! Thank you so much for all the love y’all continue in giving me!! I appreciate it so much!! 🥲💚

✨{Credits to owner for the gif}✨

Summary: Skyline McNoir tags along with a few friends who are attending a convention of some show she’s never watched. Little did she know, she would fall head over heels for the lead actor.

Word Count: 2.4 K

Warnings: Will contain Fluff, public sex, alcohol consumption, public fingering, just pure NSFW for all you Jensen fans out there 😊

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ENJOY!!

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The blasting chorus of Follow Me Now by Jason Gleed, wakes Skyline up. Her Hazel eyes glare straight ahead at the coconut cream wall for a few seconds before bringing the cover above her head, trying to muffled the music. Which didn’t help. At all. Then to make the morning less fun, her bed begins to shake violently by her best friend who’s jumping up down awhile singing at the top of her lungs. Skyline groans into the covers and tries to bury herself deeper into the warmth, but before she can even hide, the covers are being shoved off her form. A shiver runs throughout her body from the coldness in the room.

“C’mon Sky! Today’s the day!” Erin yells as she hovers above,

Skyline groans once again, eyes closed shut when it’s far too bright in the room “Five more minutes,”

“No come on,” Erin says, slightly pushing Sky’s body with her foot, “Tiffany and Laila are already downstairs grabbing breakfast,”

Still not moving, Erin shoves her body once again with her foot, when that didn’t do the trick an evil smirk spreads on her face. Grabbing an unused pillow, she raises it above her head before roughly slamming it against Sky’s head, causing her to jerk upright. With sleep still in her eyes, Sky is only able to squint at her best friend.

“Erin! What the fu-,” Her words were cut off when a large pillow smacks her in the face,

Erin chuckles at her, ignoring the death stare as she hops off her bed, “Chop chop.. we got a busy day today!”

With a roll of her eyes and a loud groan, Sky rolls off the comforter and towards the bathroom. After taking care of her regular morning routines, she hops in the shower. Erin’s music still blasted through the speakers, as Sky took a quick shower and she honestly hoped none of their neighbors complained about their disturbance, she knew she would have if she was trying to get a few more hours of shut eye.

That’s all she ever really wanted at the moment, sleep. After months of studying, exams, piles upon piles of work, and busting all nighters she was finally in winter break. The feeling of being able to come home for the holidays and spending those days with her family sounded amazing and relaxing. However, after the second day of being home, she gets a call from Erin. Mentioning something about having another extra ticket for a convention to meet the cast of some show she’s never watched. She kindly declined the offer, wanting to spend her days off with her family sounded like a much better idea than meeting unknown actors. However, Sky often forgets Erin is not the type to take no for an answer and demanded her to hand the phone over to her mother.

Thinking her mother would defend her and find a way to convince Erin to try and find someone else to take to the convention, Sky hands the phone over to her mother. You can only imagine who won that argument.

Once out of the shower with a towel wrapped around her body, Sky heads out the bathroom and towards her duffel bag. In the winter season of Austin, Texas, she decides on a plain long sleeve, black jeans, grey hoodie, black boots on her feet with a leather jacket on top. Once her hair is made and adds a couple splashes of makeup on her face, she grabs her phone and book from the small counter as she follows Erin out the room. After a few minutes later, they finally arrive in the breakfast buffet where Tiffany and Laila are already stuffing themselves with waffles and eggs. With a yawn, Sky makes her way over to the buffet with Erin right behind her. Once they both get their plates and sit down on the table, they dig in before getting on with their day.

****

8:45 am

“Oh my god!! I just hugged Speight!!” The sound of Laila coming around the corner interrupts Sky from her book,

The sight of Laila bouncing up and down on her feet with a wide grin makes a small chuckle escape from Skyline. As her friends beamed over this Speight guy, Sky returns her focus down on her book. Not really paying much attention at their excitement, but still having a smile on her lips as she reads the next chapter in her book. Even if she’s not having the same excitement as her friends, she is still having fun with them. Being around them in general for whatever reason always brightens her day. No matter how rough of a day she’s seems to be having, her girls always know just how to distract her and make her have fun.

“Ohh it’s almost time for Osric’s panel,” Tiffany says while looking down at her phone,

No longer able to focus on her book, Sky marks her spot before getting up from the floor.

“You guys go in, I’ve got auto’s for Kim at nine,”

It’s barely nine in the morning? Jesus. Sky thinks to herself, the day has felt extremely long she could have sworn it was already noon.

“Okay, let’s go Sky,” Laila motions her head to the side for her to follow,

“If you guys want me to continue tagging along, I’m gonna need an espresso,” Sky states, feeling yet another yawn creeping up her throat,

Her friends chuckle at her but agreed with her idea. They wouldn’t want her dragging her feet all over the convention, besides, coffee did sound like a great idea. Once writing down their preferred drinks in her notes, Sky leaves through the doors, down the steps and towards a coffee shop not too far away. It was only a couple blocks away, she should make it back in no time. Hugging her jacket closer to her body when the wind picks up, Sky quickens her movements to avoid its freezing weather but careful to not slip on the wet pavement. The last thing she needs is to fall flat on her ass, better yet get a concussion or go back home with a broken wrist.

Boy would her mom faint if she saw her daughter in a cast. Will most likely give her a lecture on why it’s important not to be on the phone during the most worst seasons. ‘If you weren’t on the phone this wouldn’t have happened Skyline’. Yep. She can definitely hear her ranting.

After a few blocks in the harsh winds, Skyline is finally reaching the small little coffee joint. Just as she reaches for the handle of the door, another, large, hand reaches at the same time. Thick fingers slightly touching her own, making her pull back with an apology.

“No it’s fine go ahead,” A deep voice says beside her, letting a shiver run down her body,

Most likely from the weather, what else would it be?

She looks up at the man. Dark beard, shades on his face, black hat on his head, with a black T-Shirt underneath a checkered navy flannel and black Levi’s jacket. Even under the dark shades she can tell he was good looking, handsome in fact.

“No you can go ahead,” Sky smiles at the man, stepping aside for him to enter,

He only shakes his head, gripping the door handle as he opens it for her, “Please I insist, my mom would throw a fit if she finds out I didn’t show my manners,”

Sky chuckles at him, “Well we wouldn’t want that now,”

The man chuckles back, smile forming on his lips. Man did that smile just make her stomach flip.

“No, we really wouldn’t,” Chuckling once more at him she accepts the offer with a thanks before entering the coffee shop,

As she walks inside, the change of temperature immediately hits her cold cheeks. Almost as if a heating furnace was suddenly shoved in her face, but she wasn’t complaining, the warmth was needed. Walking further into the coffee shop, she takes a glance over her shoulder to see if the man was behind her, but only lets a smile appear when she catches the moment of him allowing an elderly couple enter before him.

That’s sweet. She thinks to herself as she walks up to the counter. Once her drinks have been ordered and paid, she heads over to a small empty table near the window. Sitting on the chair she pulls out her book and continues where she left off as she waits for her drinks. A few minutes had passed and Sky was too engrossed in her book to notice her name being called out by the barista. Eventually though, she comes back to reality when someone places her drink in front her. Looking up from her book she meets eyes with bright emerald orbs, and noticing those breathtaking eyes belong to the same man from the door.

“I’m guessing your Skyline?,” The way her name rolls off his deep voice sends a shiver down her spine,

Definitely can’t be the air this time, absolutely not.

Eyeing the cup of coffee in front of her, she lifts a eyebrow at the man, teasing him. Even if she sees her name written on the side of the cup.

“And what makes you think that?” The way his lips slightly lift causes something to flip in her stomach,

Again.

“Well.. seeing how there’s hardly folks in here,” He looks around the shop for a few seconds before landing his eyes on hers again, “and you being the only one sitting down without a coffee.. I took a guess,”

Sky hums with a smile as she takes the cup, “Nice deduction,”

He shrugs a shoulder with a smile, “This seat taken?”

Sky shakes her head as she takes careful sips from her drink. With a small smile the man pulls out the chair with his other free hand, seeing how he has a cup of his own in one hand.

“I’m Ross by the way,” The man extends a hand once seated,

With a smile Sky accepts his hand, feeling it warm and rough as it wraps around her own.

“Nice to meet you,” Still smiling she pulls away from his firm hand,

“You around from here or just passing through?” He asks, taking careful sips from his cup,

Sky softly smiles at him as she wraps her hands around her coffee, trying to warm up her fingers.

“Born and raised,” He raises a brow at the small fact,

“No kidding?”

She nods, “Yeah but I’m just home for the holidays,”

He hums with a nod, “In the army or something?”

Sky couldn’t help the chuckle that escapes from her, definitely noticing how the corner of the mans lips slightly lift as well.

“More like college. My last year,”

“Really? What’re you studying?” He asks, taking another sip, never letting his eyes drift from her Hazel ones,

But does notice how they dart down towards his mouth before quickly looking back up to his eyes. A small smirk hides behind the cup, but doesn’t hide it when he pulls it away from his face.

“Biology,” He hums once again with a sincere smile, making her stomach flip,

It was such an odd feeling, especially when it was coming directly from a man she hardly knows. But for some reason, it felt right. Their conversations switched from topic to topic, never faltering. It just felt right, as if they were long time friends catching up with each other instead of two strangers who just met. Eventually, their conversation was cut short with the barista calling out her name once again with the rest of her drinks.

Getting up from her seat she walks over to the counter where her drinks waited. As she grabbed a cup holder and begins placing her drinks in each space, Ross, settles next to her. Getting a whiff of his cologne. Leaning on the counter he had both his and her coffee in either hand, which he hands over with a smile once all coffees were safely secured in place.

“I should get going,” She smiles up at his green orbs, and only then noticing how freckles are splashed on his face,

This man was literally dashing, no doubt about it.

“Yeah same here,” He says looking down at his watch, “Need a ride?”

She shakes her head with a smile, “I’m good thanks,”

“You sure? Heard it might rain,” He continues to lean on the counter as she places her coffee in an empty slot of the holder,

“I’m sure, it’s just a few blocks from here,”

“Well it can rain from those few blocks,” He argues as he gives her a smile, not wanting to end their little moment,

Neither did she, but she had friends waiting and the moment she tells them the reason why she took a little longer than expected, they wouldn’t leave her alone until she gives them the whole shebang.

She lets a small chuckle escape her lips as she picks up the coffees, “I’ll make a run for it,”

He softly chuckles at her comment, green eyes staring straight into her Hazel orbs that have slightly turned grey from her sweater. Definitely finding her and her eyes fascinating and beautiful.

“It was nice meeting you Ross,” She smiles at him as she walks away,

He smiles as he watches her, sending her a wave goodbye when she looks over her shoulder before walking out the door. Watching her leave didn’t feel like a loss, it felt the complete opposite actually. Why? Well for starters, he knew it wouldn’t be the last time he saw her considering she had the all too familiar Creation Entertainment wristband on her left hand. Also, he had her book inside his jacket, another reason on why he would see her again.

Both to retrieve her book and to have a reason to see her again. Don’t get him wrong, he was actually going to give it to her before she left, but the thought of holding it and having a reason to see her again sounded like great idea. He wanted to see her again, wanted to have a conversation longer than 10 minutes and just wanted to get to know her. She was different, in a good way, absolutely in a good way. The way she seemed to not know him or maybe she did but simply did not care made him feel relaxed, made him feel somewhat normal and he would give anything to feel that way again.

Even if it meant “stealing” her book to have an excuse to see her again.

PART 2

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-Hope y’all enjoyed this first part of the series!! Stay tuned for random updates for ‘Spark Between Us’ I won’t give an announcement on when I’ll update it so keep your eyes peeled on it!!

-Turn on Post Notifications!! 🔔 For more!!

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[mikauzoran]

Lady Noir/Adrienette: Save Yourself (I’ll Help You): Chapter Two

Read it on AO3: Save Yourself (I’ll Help You): Chapter Two: Self-Help

At some point three years prior, before Adrien became cognizant of his crush on Marinette, he had surreptitiously begun to pay close attention to her. These years of reconnaissance allowed him to quickly pick up on the fact that something was up with his charming friend that Monday at school.

She was fidgety and distracted, obviously preoccupied by something.

Alya and some of the other girls noted her particularly odd behavior, but, when asked what was wrong, Marinette politely waved away their concerns and made excuses.

Adrien let it go that first day. He knew she had a lot on her plate with all of her extracurricular responsibilities. Marinette was rivaled only by Ladybug in her jam-packed schedule and need of multitasking.

When she was noticeably agitated the second day in a row, Adrien caught her as they were packing up to move classrooms, resting a hand on her forearm and giving her a confidence-inspiring smile.

“Hey. You’ve seemed really stressed out the past two days. If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know. Even if you just need to vent, I’m here for you, okay?”

She blinked, blushed, and looked away, smiling weakly. “Thanks, Adrien. I really appreciate the offer. I’m okay, though.”

His own smile faltered slightly because she obviously was not okay, but…if she didn’t want to confide in him, it wasn’t like he could force her.

He nodded, turned up the wattage on his grin, and removed his hand from her forearm. “Well…let me know if you ever change your mind.”

She nodded, returned the smile with one even more fake than his own, and quickly finished packing her books, hurrying out the door as fast as she could without appearing to be fleeing.

On the third day of watching the woman he loved in obvious distress, Adrien could no longer stand by and do nothing.

He packed up quickly and waited for her outside the locker room after school, and when she came out with Alya, he flagged her down, asking if she were headed home.

“May I walk you there?” he inquired, shooting Alya a quick, meaningful look.

Alya promptly remembered that she’d forgotten a notebook she needed back in her locker, literally pushing Marinette towards Adrien as she beat a hasty retreat.

Quick of reflexes, Adrien deftly stopped Marinette’s fall and helped her get steady on her feet.

“I’m going to kill Alya,” she seethed, straightening her jarred purse and backpack as they nearly slipped off her shoulders.

“Forgive her,” Adrien chuckled. “She and Nino have this scheme about setting us up with each other so that the four of us can double date. Goodness knows I need all the help I can get to make you fall for me. Alya is doing God’s work.”

Marinette rolled her eyes, glaring petulantly at her friend’s retreating back as Alya disappeared into the locker room. “Goodness also knows that I don’t need help falling flat on my face, so I think I can do without Alya shoving me.”

“Fair,” Adrien allowed, holding out a hand. “May I carry something?”

Marinette shook her head, hugging her sketchpad closer to her chest reflexively. “No, thanks. I’ve got it,” she assured, starting to head for home.

In the back of her mind, she worried about coming off as rude, but the last thing she needed was for Adrien to carry her books and somehow see the endless doodles she’d been doing of Chat Noir all week as she fretted ceaselessly about him.

Slightly dejected, Adrien slipped his hands into his pockets and followed after her, regretting her brisk pace, fearing it wouldn’t give them much time to talk.

“So…” He cleared his throat as they made their way down the school steps.

She looked back at him and nearly tripped to her death.

Luckily, he caught her by the arms, keeping her from nosediving into the concrete.

Unfortunately, her books and notebooks went flying as she flailed in the seconds before he steadied her.

Once he was sure she wasn’t going to fall, Adrien bent down to gather up her things, only to be stopped as she gasped, “Don’t look!” and rushed to retrieve them herself.

“Sorry,” she added when she came to her senses. “Just…private stuff. I don’t…” She paused to take a deep breath and blow it out slowly. “Sorry I’m being such a spazz today. I have a lot on my mind.”

“Is it anything I could help with?” he offered, holding out a hand to assist her back to her feet.

She shook her head, getting up on her own. “I’ll be fine. Thank you, though.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, debating whether or not to let it go.

“…I’m really worried about you,” he confessed after a moment, unable to hold it in.

She stopped mid-step, turning to face him with a puzzled expression. “…You are?”

“Yeah,” he replied in a hushed tone. “Seriously worried. You’ve been really off all week. I’m not trying to force you to talk to me if you don’t feel comfortable doing so, but…I just want you to be okay, and I don’t think you are, and I’m feeling kind of helpless, so…”

He almost felt bad for forcing her hand, but it was getting to the point where he was worried about Marinette getting akumatized, and that was no good for anyone because how was he supposed to fight against the girl he adored if worst came to worst?

He couldn’t…so he crossed his fingers and hoped he’d be forgiven for being slightly manipulative.

“I’m concerned about getting akumatized over worrying about you,” he told her with a grimace.

Her eyes flew wide in alarm before fluttering rapidly in a series of astonished blinks.

“And, if that happens, I’m scared my akumatized self will come after you because you’re technically the source of my negative emotions, and then you’ll be caught up in things,” he elaborated, “and I really don’t want that. The last thing I want to do is add to your stress, so…”

He worried his bottom lip between his teeth and gave her a pleading look. “Sorry, but…isn’t there anything I can do to help? I’m not asking you to talk to me about your problems, but if there were some way I could feel like I wasn’t so powerless to help you…”

He watched as her surprise crumpled up like a note passed during class into a troubled, thoughtful expression.

“…Sorry for being such a pain. I don’t want to cause problems,” he added earnestly, dropping the act and retreating one step at a time. “Sorry. Forget I said anything, but if you do want to talk, know that I’m always here for you.”

He turned to go, but she caught him, fingers wrapping around his forearm, gripping, holding him in place.

“…Wait,” she called softly, a weary resignation in her voice.

He arched an eyebrow questioningly and waited for her to continue.

She sighed and tipped her head, motioning for him to come with her. “Walk with me a bit?”

“Sure,” he easily agreed and followed as she led him across the street and then past her house to the park next door.

They completed one lap around the square, Marinette deep in thought the whole time. Then, she went and took a seat on one of the park benches, and he sat beside her, waiting patiently for her to give some kind of cue.

She inhaled deeply and, gazing down intently at her shoes all the while, finally spoke. “So…there’s this guy.”

Adrien stiffened, his heart screeching to a halt as his mind called up helpful memories of all the times Ladybug had told him about her mystery boy.

Why was there always some other guy? Adrien wondered bitterly but then mentally slapped himself because of course there were guys in the lives of smart, talented, beautiful women like Marinette and Ladybug.

“A friend,” Marinette clarified. “A really close friend, and I’m worried sick about him,” she sighed heavily, shaking her head, at a loss as to what to do.

Adrien relaxed slightly at the friendship label but didn’t let his guard down as she continued.

“He’s having some trouble with mental health and his family relationships, and I think he’s really depressed.” She looked up from her feet to meet Adrien’s gaze, and it hurt his heart to see the glistening tears blurring her vision. “I’m scared, Adrien, and I feel really useless because there’s nothing I can do to help him.

“It’s complicated,” she explained softly, looking away as if it would hide her guilt as shame turned her cheeks pink. “I can’t be there for him the way a friend should, so…I guess I’m feeling for him what you’re feeling for me. I’ve been agonizing over this since Saturday night, and I don’t know what to do. I know that there’s nothing to do. I just wish I could make it all okay for him.”

She lifted her head once more as she vehemently informed, “Adrien, he’s one of the sweetest, best people I know, and he deserves better than what he’s stuck with. I wish there was something I could do so that he wouldn’t have to struggle so much. He shouldn’t have to.”

Adrien nodded, tentatively reaching out to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You’re such a good friend, Marinette. I wish someone would worry about me like that,” he chuckled, but the manufactured mirth didn’t quite make it into his voice. “He’s really lucky. It sounds like you care about your friend a lot.”

She smiled wretchedly, giving a sad little nod as she admitted, “I love him.”

It felt like getting hit with an icy blast of winter air or walking outside without a coat, shocking his system.

His hand froze on her arm.

It took a minute for him to form words, and, when he did, they came out stilted and awkward, betraying his distraction. “Oh. Wow. Uh… That’s… He’s really lucky.”

Marinette tipped her head to the side, frowning in concern. “Is everything all right, Adrien?”

“Sorry.” He forced a smile, cheeks stinging as he blushed. “Ignore me. I was just a little surprised because I think this is the first I’ve heard about you having your eye on someone. I mean, it’s only natural that you would, but…”

His hand went up reflexively to rub at the back of his neck, and he shook his head, trying to clear away his muddled thoughts. He was supposed to be helping her feel better, not having a pity party for himself.

“Sorry,” he repeated softly, sheepishly. “I’m just kind of flustered…and more than a little bit jealous,” he added honestly.

Marinette’s mouth dropped open, and she leaned in to stare at him in shock. “W-Wait. What? Like…what?”

“I thought I was pretty obvious,” Adrien laughed openly at himself, hoping to keep the atmosphere light so that she wouldn’t see his heart breaking. “You really didn’t know I have feelings for you?”

Slowly, she began to shake her head from side to side, speechless in her astonishment as she tried to determine whether or not she was dreaming this entire scenario up.

“Marinette,” he chuckled more genuinely, his voice warm and affectionate. “You’re amazing. Any guy who didn’t fall in love with you would have to be a total idiot.”

She gripped the bench seat to keep herself from tipping over and falling flat in the dirt.

Her head was spinning. How could this be happening? Adrien loved her?

Impossible.

And yet…he was looking at her with such a fond, soft expression in his eyes. It was just like the looks Chat Noir often gave Ladybug, so… Maybe it was real.

Her lips parted to respond, to confess her own feelings, but Adrien cut her off.

His eyes widened in alarm, and he gave a start, jolting back and putting up his hands in defence. “…Oh, but, I mean, I totally support you! With this guy. If he’s the one you love…. I support you,” he rushed to assure.

Marinette blinked, mentally reeling from the whiplash.

Did he love her or not? She wasn’t entirely sure now, if he weren’t willing to fight for her. His affections couldn’t be that strong if he was okay with giving up so easily.

“More than anything, I’m your friend, so I don’t want my feelings for you to get in the way of that or make things weird between us,” he explained, desperate for her to understand. “So, if you have to pretend that I never said anything, that’s totally fine. I support you. Whatever makes you happy is the most important thing.”

She had to pause to consider before responding. Her thoughts were so twisted up like a ball of writhing serpents battling to consume one another.

“Thank you, Adrien. That’s so sweet, and it’s seriously not a problem,” she promised, reaching out and placing a hand on his forearm. “We’re fine. Everything’s fine…. Honestly, there’s nothing for you to support. Things aren’t going to work between me and my friend, so…thank you, but nothing’s going to happen between us.”

Adrien’s eyebrows gradually pulled together into a V of concern. “Is it…because of his mental health situation?”

Marinette recoiled, staring at him in stupefaction. “What? No! No, of course not! Nothing like that. He’s amazing, and I’d be more than willing to stay by his side and support him through his struggles. He’s worth putting in the hard work for.”

Adrien’s stomach stopped clenching, and a faint hope welled up in his chest. If things weren’t going to work out between Marinette and this other guy, maybe Adrien still had a chance. Maybe she could see past Adrien’s struggles and still care for him too.

“So…what exactly is the problem, if you don’t mind me asking?” he pressed gently, chewing nervously at the inside of his lip.

She looked away, frowning down at her knees. “It’s…complicated.”

Adrien arched an eyebrow. “Is he gay?”

It was the only reason Adrien could come up with why a guy wouldn’t want to overcome all obstacles to be with Marinette.

Marinette chuckled softly, shaking her head. “No. He’s bi, so…”

She looked back up at him, scrutinizing his face, evaluating his trustworthiness. “…I’m going to tell you a secret.”

He scooted in closer, nodding that he was ready. “I won’t tell a soul.”

She glanced around, scanning the area to make sure they wouldn’t be overheard before she lowered her voice, whispering, “It’s Chat Noir.”

Adrien blinked slowly, uncomprehendingly. The words meant nothing to him.

Seeing his confusion, Marinette elaborated, her cheeks turning cherry blossom pink as she confessed, “My friend, the guy I’m in love with…it’s Chat Noir.”

Adrien’s brain crashed, and it took him a good ten seconds to reboot.

His initial inclination was to laugh hysterically because finally his love was requited, and he couldn’t have asked for a better romantic partner than Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

His mind next trotted off to construct a detailed plan of all the ways he was going to make her happy and spoil her rotten.

It then occurred to him that he needed to tell her his identity, but then he decided to table that idea because Ladybug would be furious, and he wasn’t sure how Marinette would react.

He also wasn’t so sure that this was the best time to reveal his identity because Marinette was convinced that things wouldn’t work between them. She was also currently upset…because of him.

“You’ve been worried all week because of Chat Noir?” Adrien breathed as his brain came back online.

She nodded meekly. “I…Yes. He’s having a rough time, and I’m worried that there’s nothing I can do to help him. I’m not doing a very good job as his friend.”

Adrien rolled his eyes, wrapping his arms around Marinette and pulling her into a fierce hug.

“You’re doing amazing,” he whispered into her hair, wishing he could express how much it meant to him, knowing that her skylight door was always open when he needed a safe space to escape from his life.

He may not have confided in her before about how bad things were because he was afraid of burdening her and scaring her away, but all the times when she’d allowed him to hang out on her balcony or in her room, all the times she and her parents had strong-armed him into making dinner and eating with them once they’d found out he ate alone most meals, all the times she’d saved pastries for him and Plagg…

Chat Noir might not have let Marinette see how dark it was inside of his mind, but she’d always been there to help right when he needed her. She’d gotten him through many tough times, even if she’d never known it.

He pulled back to look her intently in the eyes. “Marinette, I’ve seen you two together before, and Chat Noir is crazy about you. Trust me. I can tell. If you love him and he loves you, why can’t you two be together?”

“Adrien, he’s a superhero,” Marinette snorted, rolling her eyes as if the problem were obvious.

“So?” he scoffed right back. “You don’t think you’re good enough for a superhero or something? Marinette, Chat Noir is the one not good enough for you. Stop being humble and date him already.”

“I’m not being humble,” she returned saucily. “I’m being practical. I can’t date a guy whose identity I don’t know.”

“Then let him reveal his identity to you,” Adrien suggested matter-of-factly. “You’re making this more complicated than it needs to be.”

“I am not,” she protested, crossing her arms indignantly. “It’s too dangerous for me to know his identity.”

“How so?” he argued. “All you have to do is just not tell anyone that you know. Don’t get caught kissing Chat Noir, and no one will be the wiser. No one’s going to think twice if you start dating his civilian self.”

She pursed her lips, trying not to see his point. “What if I get caught up in an akuma attack and get brainwashed into revealing his secrets?”

“Chat Noir has been mind-controlled countless times, and he hasn’t given away his secret identity yet,” Adrien continued to stack solid argument on top of solid argument. “If you don’t tell anyone you know who Chat Noir is, Papillon won’t know to come after you. You’re perfectly safe so long as you keep your mouth shut. I think you can manage that, Marinette.”

“What if there’s a truth-telling akuma?” she tried in one last-ditch attempt.

He frowned at her in mildly annoyed disappointment. “Has there ever been a truth-telling akuma? In the past three and a half years?”

She averted her gaze, her lip pushing forward into a pout.

“No. No, there has not,” he answered his own question triumphantly. “See? I’m not going to say it’s perfectly safe for him to reveal himself to you, but the risk is small enough that I feel comfortable with you taking it. Don’t you think he would be worth it?”

“Of course he would be worth it,” she replied in a small, tired whisper. “It’s just…it’s complicated, Adrien.”

“It’s really not as complicated as you’re making it,” he sighed, gently cupping her cheek and tipping her head up to make her look at him. “Marinette, you’re a wonderful person, and you deserve happiness and love. Why won’t you let yourself have this?”

Her lips slowly moved into a self-deprecating smile, and she shook her head sadly. “I’m afraid that I really am a masochist who doesn’t allow herself to have nice things.”

It was like a foggy pane of glass shattered between them at her words, and Adrien flashed back to Ladybug sitting on the roof of Sainte Chapelle saying the same thing Saturday night.

He couldn’t breathe.

“What…did you say?” he choked as the pieces slid together: Ladybug’s insistence that Chat go to Marinette when Ladybug couldn’t be there for him herself. Marinette’s claims that things were complicated between herself and Chat Noir.

She shook her head again. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

His Lady, his Princess…the same person? Could he be so lucky?

Her brow pinched into a frown as she registered his expression. “Why are you grinning like that?”

“Because I love you,” he chuckled giddily, rendering her utterly speechless.

She found that she literally couldn’t remember how to make her mouth, brain, and vocal cords work in concert to form any kind of reply, so she just sat there, parting and closing her lips like a drowning fish.

“Hey,” he called softly, slipping his hand into hers. “I really need to talk to you. It’s important,” he emphasized. “Could we please head to your house so we can talk undisturbed?”

She tried to speak, but it came out sounding like a collection of gibberish syllables, so, instead, she nodded and got to her feet, leading him back to her house and up the stairs to her room.

He had to let go of her hand in order to file up the narrow staircase, and, by the time they reached the attic, Marinette’s brain was once again semi-functional.

She took a seat on her chaise longue and motioned for him to sit anywhere he liked, urging, “Make yourself comfortable.”

“I’m good standing, thanks,” he assured. “I’m actually feeling kind of jittery, so…do you mind if I pace?”

“Uh…go right ahead,” she encouraged, watching as he did indeed start to walk back and forth across her carpet. “…You said that you needed to talk to me?”

He took a deep breath and let it out as a sigh, “Yeah. Yeah. I did. I do. I…”

He bit his lip, rubbing at the back of his neck as he tried to get his harried thoughts in order. “I’m not sure you want to know, but I feel like I have to tell you. You’re not going to be happy, but this isn’t something I can keep from you.”

He stopped and turned to face her. “Honestly, I’ve kind of been in a dark place lately, Marinette.”

Her eyes rounded, pupils dilating in fear for yet another one of the most precious boys in her life going through a hard time.

“I’ve been feeling pretty down,” he confessed. “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to bother anyone or make them worry.”

“Adrien, we’re your friends,” she scolded, fighting back a whirlwind of emotions.

Hurt that he hadn’t trusted her, frustration that he thought so little of himself and how much he meant to them.

“Worrying about one another and supporting each other is what friends do,” she stressed, hands going to her hips. “When you need help or just someone to listen to you vent, you come to us. We will always be there for you.”

His lips quirked into a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry. I know. I just…have self-esteem issues. But I’m coming to you now, so…better late than never?”

Her expression softened, and she pushed herself up, going to him and wrapping him in a loose hug. “Oh, Adrien…you idiot.”

He rested his head against hers, muttering, “I was also afraid to talk to you about it because I was worried about ruining my chances with you. I know I wouldn’t want to deal with me and all of my insecurities and hang-ups. I couldn’t imagine someone as epic as you picking someone like me when you could do so much better.”

“Adrien,” she cooed, pulling back to meet his gaze with an abundance of sympathy and affection. “Don’t…say things like that. There are so many amazing things about you.”

“That’s what Plagg said too,” he chuckled softly.

She blinked, her brain not registering. “Plagg?”

He nodded. “Saturday…I told Ladybug about how lost and alone I’d been feeling, and she told me to come talk to you…so here I am.”

Marinette’s jaw dropped as she struggled to make sense of what she was hearing.

Saturday night, Ladybug had talked to Chat Noir, not Adrien, so…

Her lungs seized, cutting off her breath.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered like a chastened child waiting to be struck. “I know you didn’t want to reveal identities and that’s why you sent me to Marinette instead of trying to help as Ladybug, but…I think the cat’s out of the bag, My Lady.”

To her credit, Marinette did not faint. She would have liked to because, if she were unconscious, she wouldn’t have to deal with reality right away, but she remained in full control of her faculties and, thus, had to attend to the matter at hand in real time.

“I need to sit down,” she announced, heading back over to the chaise to compose herself.

Adrien followed nervously, taking a seat beside her without infringing upon her personal space. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

She waved away his words, shaking her head. “No. No. It’s fine. I…This is my fault. I knew you could potentially figure out my identity every time I had Chat Noir over to watch movies or play video games. I knew I was taking a risk.”

She turned to look him in the eye. “If I had the chance to do it all over, I wouldn’t change anything.”

“Oh,” he whispered, dazed as she leaned in and pressed her lips to his cheek, smiling softly.

“I don’t regret anything except not being able to be there for you more,” she added, making his heart swell. “But now we have to sit down and figure out what to do about this catastrophe now that we’re here.”

He arched an eyebrow, echoing, “Catastrophe?”

She nodded. “I mean…you know my identity. We’re in grave danger, Chaton.”

Deep furrows gradually dug their way across his brow. “Are we actually, though?”

She blinked, taken aback.

“Is this really the end-of-the-world scenario you think it is?” he pressed. “Like what I was saying earlier, if we don’t advertise that we know, why should Papillon target Marinette and Adrien more than any other Parisian?”

Marinette opened her mouth to argue her point but then closed it again when she realized that she didn’t have any good rebuttals to make.

“That’s why I’m always so careful when I come over here as Chat Noir. I don’t let myself get spotted coming and going so that I don’t tip anyone off to the fact that you’re important to me and could be used against me,” he explained, scooting in a little closer on the chaise. “If no one knows we know, how are we in danger?”

She pursed her lips and thought hard, trying to come up with a way to refute his logic. “…But what if there’s a truth-telling akuma?” she inquired weakly, knowing the feeble argument wouldn’t hold water.

He cupped her cheek in his hand and swore, “I would literally die before I betrayed you.”

Her heart cracked open at the very thought, and tears started to stream down her face.

“You die too much already,” she whispered, looping her arms around his neck. “I don’t want you to die…. I love you.”

He didn’t protest as she leaned in and pressed a butterfly’s wing beat of a kiss to his lips.

“Okay,” he chuckled, resting his forehead against hers. “No dying. We’ll figure something else out, but it’s going to be okay, Marinette. No matter what, we’ll get through this together.”

“Promise?” she hummed, a gentle smile lifting the corners of her lips.

“Promise,” he affirmed, inching forward to steal a more substantial kiss.

When they broke apart, there was a question in his eyes. “…Me being Adrien doesn’t change the way you feel about me, does it? You said you loved Chat Noir, but…”

A scarlet flare lit up her cheeks and spread across the bridge of her nose as she finally confessed, “You know the mystery boy I’ve been pining after since we were thirteen?”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Yeeeees?”

“His name is Adrien Agreste,” she giggled.

He burst out laughing. “You have horrible taste in men.”

She slapped him playfully on the arm. “You have horrible self-esteem. That’s the real problem here. I only fall for the sweetest, kindest, most thoughtful guys. I have impeccable taste.”

“…You really think so?” he sought to verify, amazed that such a thing could be true, that such a woman could want him.

She nodded, gaze earnest. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, Adrien. We’re going to have to work on changing that.”

“Is this a team effort thing now?” he hummed, delighted by the prospect.

“Absolutely,” she confirmed…but then the air of teasing left her. “…I’ve been really worried about you since Saturday. If there’s anything—anything—I can do for you, please let me know. …What do you think I could do to help?”

He chewed thoughtfully on the inside of his cheek for a moment before answering. “…I don’t know, really. You’ve done so much already for me as Chat Noir just by giving me a warm, safe, place to go when I need to escape. I feel bad asking for more.”

“Don’t,” she urged. “It really is fine, Adrien. Earlier, you said that you wanted me to be okay, didn’t you? That’s how I feel about you too, so don’t ever feel bad for asking.”

Slowly, he began to nod as comprehension dawned upon him. “…Oh….”

She gave him an encouraging smile and squeezed his hand. “Yeah.”

Blushing, he looked down at their joined hands. “Okay. Well…I’ll have to let you know as I think of things, but…I don’t know if there’s a whole lot you can do. I think a lot of being mentally healthy starts and ends with me, so…I think I have to do most of the work myself.”

“But you can still let me know if there’s anything I can do to support you,” she reminded.

He nodded. “Yeah. You’re right. …I will. I think mostly I just need someone to talk to about things.”

“You can talk to me whenever you need to,” she assured. “I mean, I hardly sleep, so you can call or text whenever.”

He frowned at this. “I think maybe we need to reevaluate your self-care behaviors while we’re at it. I’ve always known that Marinette had a crazy hectic schedule full of stress and deadlines, but now that I know you’re juggling a side gig as a superhero on top of everything you do as Marinette, I’m kind of worried.”

She averted her gaze, sticking her lip out in a pout. “I liked it better when we were focusing on you.”

“I’ll bet you did,” he snickered. “Just know that this is a two-way street. I’m here for you too, Marinette.”

She dropped the pout and looked up at him with a soft smile. “Thanks…. I think you should talk to Nino about how you’ve been feeling lately. Maybe Alya too, if you feel comfortable talking to her, but definitely Nino. He’s going to freak.”

Adrien winced. “Yeah…. Yeah, I know. I just don’t want—”

“—Don’t you dare mention being a burden or bothering him,” she warned. “Nino would be insulted. He loves you literally as much as he loves his brother, if not, more.”

“Yeah,” Adrien sighed, sufficiently cowed. “I’ve just been too scared to say anything.”

She hesitated before continuing, “And…you know…maybe we could go see a therapist?”

He raised an eyebrow in surprise at the suggestion. “A therapist?”

She nodded tentatively. “I know I’m awesome, but I’m only seventeen, Adrien. There are a lot of things that I’m completely clueless about. I’ve looked into psychology a little bit to help me deal with akuma victims, but I’m not an expert. I was just thinking that maybe talking to a counselor would be helpful. Maybe they’ll think of things that could help that we would never come up with on our own.”

“That’s true,” he allowed, considering the idea.

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “I just know that there are a lot of times where I think, ‘Man, I wish I had an adult to help me out with this’. Most of the time I’m completely on my own—besides you and the others and Tikki, I mean…. I was just thinking that this is maybe one time where we don’t have to go it alone. Maybe an adult can help.”

“I’ll think about it,” he granted. “It would be hard to see a doctor without my father finding out, and he isn’t going to like this, but…it’s a good idea,” he agreed.

“Good,” she sighed in relief, leaning into a languid, exploratory kiss that Adrien was more than happy to return.

They broke apart a few minutes later with a contented hum and stared dreamily into each other’s eyes.

Suddenly, an idea occurred to Adrien, and he gave a start.

“Stupid question,” he announced hesitantly.

“No such thing,” she assured, wrapping her arms around him more snugly.

“Are we dating now?” he warily inquired. “Sorry. Do I need to ask you out still? I mean, I assume we’re on the same page because we both said that we loved one another, and we’ve been kissing, so one would think that we’re dating, but I just wanted to make sure because I’ve never done this before, and I’m—”

“—Adrien?” she cut him off gently.

He tipped his head to the side. “Yes?”

“Will you go out with me?” she asked so that there would be no doubt in his mind as to what she wanted.

“Yes,” he responded breathlessly, and the joy in his eyes made her heart melt.

“Good,” she chuckled. “For our first date, would you want to have movie night tonight? We could snuggle on the couch and make cookies together.”

He surprised her by saying no.

“That can’t be our first date,” he whined. “It’s not romantic enough. I’ve had our first date planned for years, Princess. There have to be rose petals and candles and mood music. We’re supposed to eat at this amazing restaurant and take ballroom dancing lessons and then have a rooftop picnic as we watch the stars and snuggle. We can’t have a night in as our first date,” he argued.

She stared at him with a deadpan expression, debating whether it would be damaging to their nascent relationship for her to face-palm.

“My boyfriend is a high-maintenance dork,” she sighed.

“Hey,” he pouted, and she could almost see his ears and tail drooping despite the fact that he wasn’t transformed.

“All right,” she relented. “If we don’t call it a date, would you like to hang out and snuggle and watch movies and bake cookies?”

“Definitely,” he easily approved but then thought to add softly, in a slightly hurt tone, “I’m not silly, you know, for wanting my first date with the woman I love to be everything I’ve ever dreamed it would be.”

“No,” she agreed, reaching up to stroke his hair lovingly. “I’m sorry. You’re not. You deserve to have the first date of your dreams. I shouldn’t have scoffed, even if it is a bit more…” She searched for the word, came up with “over the top”, and decided against voicing it. “…more than I had in mind,” she ended conciliatorily.

“I love you, and I want you to have nice things,” she assured, earning herself an affectionate nuzzle from him.

“Thanks,” he whispered. “That means a lot to me.”

She then did something she knew she would later regret as a show of her love for him: “You can plan our first date,” she offered. “Whatever you want it to be. Go wild.”

The way his eyes lit up at her giving him free rein confirmed her fears…yet, the pure joy in his expression made her think that, if a crazy rom-com-cliché-filled date was the price of his happiness, it was well worth it.

The End

[kissjane]

AFRAID OF THE DARK / Short(ish) fic

#50 from this prompt list.

I’m scared but won’t admit it so you take my hand

It doesn’t matter how often he denies it, Lucas is afraid of the dark. And as if winter isn’t bad enough – cold, snow, ice, and happy families celebrating the holidays, reminding him he doesn’t have a happy family to celebrate with – it also comes with darkness. It is dark when he leaves his flat in the morning, and dark when he comes home again in the evening. Even if he leaves a small lamp on in the living room, he hates arriving at a dark house. He hates walking through the murky alleys. He hates climbing the dark stairway in which the lightbulbs are broken by kids playing soccer faster than the janitor can replace them. He hates everything about it.

And so when, after a particularly gruesome day at work – okay, he’ll be the first to admit he did make a small mistake, but it had in no way been bad enough to warrant the insults his boss had thrown his way –, he opens his front door and clicks the light switch, only to be met with a spark, a hiss, and the telltale click of all electrical appliances shutting off, he nearly sinks down against the door and cries.

He has candles somewhere, and flashlights, and his phone, but it is not enough. The December dark is too big to be chased away with some tiny flames and a flickering flashlight. This calls for drastic measures.

And so Lucas turns around, locks the door again, and braves the cold and the dark again to go over to Eliott’s – whose flat, when Lucas gets there, is brightly lit and toasty warm. Not that Lucas is surprised, because Eliott is the sun personified.

But Lucas’ luck has well and truly run out, it seems, because when Eliott opens the door for him, he is bundled up in a coat and a scarf and a hat, ready to go out.

“Hey, Lucas,” he says, surprise evident on his pretty face, “did I forget you were coming by?”

And suddenly Lucas is painfully aware that he should have called first. They are friends, Eliott and he, but they’re not at the ‘coming-by-whenever-unannounced’ level. And here Lucas is, standing on the doorstep, with this vague plan of asking Eliott if he can stay, because his electricity is not working. Stupid, he scolds himself silently.

“Uh, no, sorry,” he stammers out loud, “I just thought we could hang out, but you obviously have plans, so…”

He lets his sentence trail off. He always feels a bit intimidated by Eliott, who is so confident and charming. He wonders why Eliott would even want to be friends with Lucas, who is – well, just Lucas.

“Or you could just come with!”, Eliott exclaims, full of exuberance and enthusiasm. “I was gonna take a walk to check out the Christmas lights everywhere.”

Ugh. Lucas doesn’t really think voluntarily going out into the cold and the dark sounds like fun, and Christmas is just a commercial thing anyway, right? But Eliott is bouncing with hardly contained joy, and the alternative is a dark flat which may be warmer than the Paris streets, but has no Eliott. Lucas quickly balances his options against each other, and with a last look at Eliott, who has stars in his eyes and a wide grin on his face, he gives in.

And Lucas has to admit, wandering through the crisp winter air with Eliott, watching the Christmas displays, might not be the worst way to spend a December evening.

But then Eliott suddenly starts fumbling with a small, rusty gate, and he beckons Lucas to follow him. Lucas does so, after only a flash minute of deliberation – because well, it beats staying behind alone, right? But Eliott has moved way ahead, and Lucas doesn’t know where they are, and it is so dark. He hears noises he can’t interpret, and when he feels something against his arm – which, rationally, he knows is probably a branch moving with the wind – he can’t help but let out a high yelp.

Embarrassed, he claps his hand in front of his mouth, but Eliott must have heard anyway, because he retreats his steps hastily.

“Lucas? Everything okay?”

Lucas feels his cheeks burn, but he hopes Eliott won’t be able to see.

“You’re not afraid of the dark, are you?”, Eliott says, a teasing lilt in his voice, and shrugs.

“And if I was?”, he retorts with a clear challenge in the words.

“Then I would do this,” Eliott replies after a few beats, softly, and before Lucas realizes what is going on, Eliott has grabbed Lucas’ hand and holds it tightly.

“Come on,” he continues. Lucas wonders if he imagines the slight tremor in his friend’s voice. “It’s not far.”

They continue, and maybe Lucas’ eyes get used to the dark, or maybe it’s Eliott’s fingers intertwining themselves with Lucas’, but it doesn’t seem so frightening anymore. Lucas tries to make out Eliott’s face, but it is too dark to see anything but shadows. He lets his thoughts wander. He thinks about the day he met Eliott in the library, the older boy sitting across Lucas with an apologetic smile, mumbling something about no free tables. About how Eliott had come up to him in the park a few days later, ignored Lucas’ confused smile, and greeted him with a cheery “Hey, study buddy” as if they are long lost friends. About how after the fourth or fifth time Eliott had waved at him from across the hallway, he’d asked Lucas for his name, so he wouldn’t have to call him study buddy any longer. How Eliott had started following Lucas on Instagram a few days after that. He runs their whole short acquaintance through his mind, and then Eliott stops and opens his arms wide, as if to present something awesome to Lucas.

It is an old concrete tunnel, and Lucas shivers. It will be dark and cold and damp and he really doesn’t want to crawl in there, but in the dim light, he can see how excited Eliott is.

And then Eliott crouches down, opens his backpack, and starts placing tealights all over the place, lighting them one by one.

Lucas cannot help but stare, mesmerized, at the sea of light Eliott is creating. It drives away all the eerie shadows and is enough to illuminate even the furthest corners and crevasses. It is beautiful, all these tiny lights coming together in this warm glow. And when Eliott lights the last one and looks up at Lucas from his crouched position, his smile wide and his eyes sparkling, Lucas feels like another lightbulb suddenly flicks on above his head.

Because Eliott is beautiful. Lucas knew this, obviously, but it hits him like a sledgehammer all of a sudden – not just a quick, objective, passing appreciation of conventional beauty, but rather all the unique parts that make up Eliott and that etch themselves onto Lucas’ heart with a wistful ache. The flames reflect in his big eyes, and Lucas realizes that they are the warmest shade of grey he has ever witnessed, with blue swirls and green flacks like some sort of impressionist painting. Lucas closes his eyes for a second, blinded by the intensity of Eliott’s, and when he opens them again, Eliott has stood up, and the moment seems lost – but Lucas knows he will never look at Eliott the same again.

“Let’s sit,” Eliott says, and Lucas cannot refuse, and so they sit, leaning against the wall, surrounded by candlelight, and Lucas’ head swims with sudden realization.

It all makes so much sense now – why he wanted to go to Eliott when he needed light and warmth, when he needed to feel safe. Why he would follow Eliott into the dark without hesitation. Why Eliott’s hand soothes his fears.

And when Eliott looks at him with impossible soft eyes, Lucas feels like his heart might explode, and so he blurts out the first thing he can think of.

“I’ve always hated Christmas.”

Eliott startles, but then settles against the wall again, and his hand creeps closer to Lucas’. They almost touch, and the phantom sensation makes Lucas shiver.

“Are you cold?”, Eliott asks, and without waiting for Lucas’ answer, he pulls Lucas into a hug.

One heart-stopping moment, Lucas freezes, but then he settles into it, moulding his figure to Eliott’s, his head on Eliott’s shoulder. He closes his eyes, and wills himself to be calm. Breathe.

“I love it,” Eliott then says, and Lucas thinks Eliott means their new position, but he continues, “it’s so beautiful, with all the lights everywhere, and the decoration, and people celebrating together. The Christmas songs. The food. People trying to find each other the perfect gifts.”

Lucas shrugs, but doesn’t speak.

“Why do you hate it?”

And maybe it is because Eliott cannot see his face right now, or because of the strange intimacy in the candlelit tunnel, or because of his new-found feelings for Eliott, but either way, Lucas starts speaking, his voice low, but honest.

“It was never a cause for celebration when I was a kid. My family definitely wasn’t trying to find each other the perfect gift. My dad would be off from work, and he would fight with my mom all the time… And when I got older, my mom got worse, and my dad would just leave the house for days on end. And he became more and more disappointed in me – for not being in any sports team, or some other inane reason… He’d yell at me, yell at my mom. And then he left, and my mom was so depressed she couldn’t even leave her bed most of the time. It was so hard, taking care of her. I was just a child myself. And then she had to be hospitalized, and I lived on my own for a while, and things were tough. And at Christmas it just became even harder, watching everybody else be happy and cosy together…”

His voice trails off, and he laughs, small, self-deprecative.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be such a downer. I promise I’m not so gloomy usually. It’s just, well, I’m probably spending the holidays alone again this year, because Yann is going to celebrate with his family, so I’m not looking forward to it. But enough about that. Let’s talk about something else.”

Eliott is silent for a while, and Lucas regrets opening his mouth. Eliott brought him here to this magical place, and Lucas had to spoil it all by being such a negative Nancy. He is panicking, trying frantically to lighten the mood, to take back what he said, when Eliott’s voice suddenly reverberates through the tunnel.

“You could spend the holidays with me, if you want.”

Lucas lifts his head and stares at Eliott.

“What?”, he asks, certain he misheard. “Why?”

Eliott shrugs. Lucas looks at him, at his expressive face – is that uncertainty he sees in those grey eyes?

“Why not? I want to spend more time with you.”

“But we’ve only known each other for a few months… We’re not even all that close,” Lucas hears himself say, even though he wants to accept so badly. “Isn’t Christmas something to be celebrated with family?”

Eliott looks away, and his voice is low, but it echoes through the tunnel.

“We could become closer. I wouldn’t mind that at all.”

Lucas sits very still. Eliott’s arm is still around him, and he feels Eliott still after he speaks.

Lucas’ mind goes back to what he was pondering about earlier, as they walked hand in hand through the dark. About how Eliott had sought out Lucas time after time. About how he smiles at Lucas sometimes, as if Lucas holds all the secrets of the universe. About how he held Lucas’ hand when Lucas was afraid of the dark, and sheltered Lucas from the cold, and now offers to protect Lucas from his own bad memories and a lonely Christmas.

And Lucas forgets about December. Eliott is July – is warmth and sunshine and freshly made lemonade and the smell of cut grass and vanilla ice cream.

And when Eliott finally turns to face Lucas again, Lucas’ smile is wide and open.

“How close?”, he says, moving into Eliott’s space. He can feel Eliott’s breath on his lips, and his smile grows impossibly bigger.

And Eliott’s eyes are full of stars when he leans in, and shows Lucas exactly how close without words.

[jbbuckybarnes]

I wanted to

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (5k words) Description: You’ve been gone for 5 years, living in the forest for now. He just witnessed his friend stay back in time and come back as an old man. Maybe you could help each other and fall in love along the way. Warnings: Nightmares, crying, PTSD, awkwardness, canon typical violence, slight angst, fluff, not proofread A/N: I wrote this in my notes a few months back and it is a little openended, but after I figured out that it’s 5k words long, I had to post it. I hope y’all like it anyway, even with how awkward it’s written.

M A S T E R L I S T

You reappeared, the last thing you remembered was turning to dust, alone on a walk. Then the news got to you. 5 years, you were gone for 5 years. Your living situation was currently homeless. You were living in a forest, thankful that it was summer, and waiting for the government to start solving problems. On your daily walk by the cottage that always had a lot going on and the equipment all around it you saw a figure in all black, sitting against a tree, clearly sad. Nobody else was there and you weren't afraid of anything at this point, so you went to the person.

"Um, excuse me? Is everything alright? Do you need help?" You asked coming to a hold 4 steps away from them. A man with long brown hair and ocean blue eyes looked up at you, eyes red and streaks down his cheeks. "No, thank you. I think you'd need my entire life story for that." He sniffled. "Well, I'm currently living in the forest cause I've been dead for 5 years and nobody seems to solve the entire missing people and housing problems, so I think I might understand your hurt a little bit. What's wrong?" You crouched down to be on his level. Now that you looked at him, he looked way bigger and potentially dangerous than you previously thought. You both just sat in silence for a few seconds. "You know when you want your friend to be happy, even if it hurts you like being torn to shreds?" He asked, staring into the distance. "Yeah. It's the worst when they don't consider that pain." You were picking grass from the ground. "Multiply that hurt times 100. That's how I feel right now." He sniffled again and you inched a little closer. "Tell me what happened." "Well. Hi, I'm Bucky, formerly known as the Winter Soldier, frozen and unfrozen since the mid 40s. My friend who wasn't made to kill but still equally frozen just went back in time to choose his first love over me and his other friends in this time. And he came back as an old man. I should be happy for him. He had a great life and probably found his peace. But I would've loved to spend those decades with him, my other friends and maybe some new people." A tear ran down his cheek. "You would've needed the support, the love from a true friend. Let me tell you something. A true friend would always choose his friends over his love. No matter which situation. And I hope you're gonna have some damn great decades. Better than he had them. Cause you didn't live in nostalgia. Okay?"

You didn't know how your daily walk turned into a therapy session with a former assassin but this was needed. "Okay." He nodded with a tiny smile. "You need a hug?" You smiled back and he nodded sniffling. The moment your arms had surrounded him he started sobbing. Way too many emotions coming through, thinking of all those years he did everything for that small boy from school. "It's okay, let it out." You murmured, stroking his back. "It hurts." He got out. "I know. For a reason. It hurts because you cared. A lot," you said and felt arms hugging back. "Thanks." He sniffled again. "No problem." "What's your name, therapy stranger." He laughed loosening the hug and wiping his tears away. "Y/N." "James, but call me Bucky." He finally had a true smile on his face. "That's gonna hit you a few times, Bucky. Don't drown in it, okay?" Your hands were on his shoulders. "Promise."

You sat side by side in silence after that. Just relaxing with a view of the forest. "Can I help you with your housing problem?" His voice broke through, a little groggy but calm. "I don't know if you can." You grinned, throwing away a flower petal you had picked. "Well, now that Steve is definitely out of question as a third roommate...you might be a good shot. You don't have to. Just an idea. I can also just help you search for a flat." "I'd like to. An actual shower would be nice again." you giggled. "There's one in there. I can, you know, ask if you can-" "You don't have to." "Well, but I want to. You don't deserve to die for 5 years and then not have at least THAT luxury." He chuckled at how dumb this all sounded. "I guess." You grinned. He stood up, "Let's just walk in there. Ignore any question about Captain America or Steven Grant Rogers & get you to a shower and a hairbrush." "Thanks for subtly insulting my hair." You boxed against his arm and heard a chuckle.

A knock, "Can I come in without risking a punch?" "Yeah." You giggled, standing in front of the mirror in a shirt that he gave you, getting knots out of your hair. "You look like a new person, Y/N." He grinned leaning against the counter. "Imagine what a good 10 hours of sleep would do to me now." You smiled before making a grimace at the pain on your scalp. He watched you starting to frown into the mirror at your hair strands. "Can I help?" He came closer. "Depends on how gentle you can be." You chuckled. "I had sisters, I know how to do this without anyone crying, darling," he said proudly. "Well, then help away." You shrugged. His hands were gently going through the hair strands on your left side while you went on with the right side. Your eyes wandered to his patient but slightly frowning face that was concentrated on your hair and you smiled. "Didn't think helping a stranger would end this positive." You giggled and he looked up with a smile. "Good things happen to good people." "Well, bad things also happen to good people." You looked at him through the mirror with a soft smile and saw him shake his head to get rid of a thought. "It'll get better," you whispered. "I know," he whispered back, letting the brush glide through your hair. "Damn. You really are good at this." "Of course. Didn't wanna hear my sisters cry at me for an entire week back in the day." He chuckled at the fond memories on his mind. Would he go see them if he could? No. He didn't want to interfere with their life, everything happened for a reason. When you were finally done with your side you exhaled exhausted and turned around to him. "You look pretty in it." He smiled down at you and you followed his eyes. Oh, yeah, this was his shirt. "Uh, thanks." You answered touching it.

"Who's the pretty girl you got with you, Barnes?" Sam looked up from his drink in the kitchen and eyed you. "Our potential third roommate." Came back. "Oh." He set down his cup of coffee. "Hi, my name's Y/N. I've also been gone for 5 years and currently live off of forest food cause our government is a burning pile of trash," you introduced yourself dryly. "What did you do before?" "Was the definition of a homebody." You shrugged. "Hm, not to come off wrong but...we're Avengers and that means cleaning & errands might end up in your hands cause of missions. Any problems with that?" He smirked. "Not really. I just want sleep, food, water and a roof over my head." "What music do you like?" "Pop, Rock, Hip Hop." "Favorite sports team?" "Not my area." "Favorite movie?" "The Matrix." "I like her." Sam looked at Bucky. "Does that mean I can just stay with you from now on? Cause I literally don't have anything else out there other than my knife and a missing persons file for my mother." You asked. "Of course. Why would we let you sleep in the forest?" Bucky looked back at you. "You never know."

"Welcome to your new home." It has been a few days since you all met and gotten to know each other better. Bucky had just opened the door to your room and a bed frame and mattress were already in there. Together with a decent laptop and phone. Clothes had been ordered a few days earlier, but you were still mainly living in Bucky's clothes. There had been multiple occasions of him hiding somewhere in the house or outside to just get it all out, but you always found him and calmed him down. "Oh god, you didn't have to-" "But I wanted to." With a soft smile he closed the door behind you As soon as you used both devices and logged back in, you were searching for your friends and family members. Then world news & government aid. Then Steve Rogers and then Bucky. Sure, you'd learned about them in school years ago but a little refresher on their history and more reasons to be mad at Steve weren't a bad idea. "Gone for a press conference." Was yelled through the apartment by Sam and a door closed. Shortly after there was a knock on your door. "Come in." Bucky's head peaked in with a shy smile. "Something wrong?" You asked. "No, just wanted to say thank you for being there for me so much the last days. You don't have to but you do it anyway." His hand wandered through his hair. "You're the one giving me a place to stay after all this mess." You smiled back. After a bit of silence he breathed in, "Wanna make dinner together?" "Sure."

"Am I ever getting my clothes back?" He grinned down at you. "No. Too comfy." You grinned back in your giant shirt from him. "It's okay, you can have 'em. They look better on you anyway." Now the smile got softer. "Thanks. Always prefered men's clothing." You handed him something he needed for the food you were preparing. There was a comfortable silence across the room while you two continued until the food was ready. "Thanks for cooking with me." He smiled like a little boy. "Of course, Buck."

You woke up from whimpers next door. It was 2am and you really needed sleep, but you got up and walked to his room. When you slowly opened the door you saw him toss and turn a bit with a frown on his face. "Bucky. Hey, Bucky. It's okay. Wake up." Your hand wandered over his head and arm. With a little gasp his eyes opened, "Y/N?" "Yes, I'm here. You had a bad dream." You gave him a concerned smile. "Thank you for waking me up." He smiled sleepily. "Of course." You stood up. "Can you stay here? I don't want to dream that again." His hand reached out and landed on your legs. "Sure." You shrugged and got into the bed next to him. Big arms were snaking around you and hugged you close into a spoon position. "Thank you." He whispered before you drifted off.

Your eyes slowly opened and you found yourself to be in a room that wasn't yours. As soon as you heard little huffs behind you, you knew where you were again. The hand that was over your waist was tried to be removed but without luck. "Bucky. Let me get up." You grumbled. "Hmm?" He asked half asleep. "Let me get up," you mumbled. "No." He grumbled and pulled you closer. "Bucky!" You squealed and got a deep chuckle back. "What's wrong, darling?" You only crossed your arms in response. "Good morning to you too." He chuckled. "You're definitely awake," you mumbled and the arm around you instantly loosened after he realized what you were talking about. "Sorry," was mumbled. "Nah, it's fine." You smiled and finally turned around, "Sleep well after the nightmare?" "Yes, thank you for staying." His tired eyes were shimmering. "No problem." You got hair strands out of your face. "You look adorable right now." He laughed. "I feel more like a squished teddy bear." You pouted and got a giant grin back. "You were a good teddy bear though."

He still occasionally cried and you came to his room whenever you noticed or heard, but he got better, even after visiting Steve. A mission finally called for both of them, not a good sign. Seeing him in his full gear for the first time was overwhelming but fascinating. "Be safe you two idiots." You smiled at both of them. "Don't redecorate the entire house." Sam grinned. "I'll try my best." You chuckled before giving both of them a good hug. The second one came with a kiss to your temple before they were out of the door. You were worried the second they were out of the door, but the two weirdos would be keeping each other safe.

After the mission had turned into a national problem and back, the two men finally came in through the front door exhausted. "Hey, darling." A familiar voice broke the silence and you fell into his arms. "I'm so glad you both are back unharmed," you mumbled. "Of course! We need to annoy the hell out of you. Don't we?" Sam chuckled. You hugged him too before dragging them both into the kitchen to make them some sandwiches. "Sooo. How did it go?" You grinned, knowing well that both of then were ready to explode at the inability of the government. A grumble, "Don't get me started." "Smith is a fucking idiot." "Yeah, and that Tom idiot from mission control." "And Sharon's contact." "Literally anyone involved except for a few." Bucky concluded. "Well, I painted a wall in my room while you were gone and fixed the faucette in the bathroom." You smiled at them accomplished. "Without US!?" Sam said fake offended. "How could you? Let us fail at it first." Bucky joined in. "Can't believe you two manage to keep each other alive." You laughed before starting to clean the counter.

"It's pretty." Bucky smiled at your wall after sitting on your bed and staring at it for a good minute. He was not sure if he liked pastel colors on the wall but guessed they made sense for you. "Thanks. Stood in the paint aisle for almost two hours for the right color." "You think I should paint mine too?" He looked over to you at the desk. "If you want to." A quick shrug. "What color would you pick?" "Maybe...a dark warm purple. Or a tapestry with a lot of moody but colorful things going on. Or maybe just hanging up a few decor pieces in black and brown, fitting to your furniture." Your mind was working with all the possibilities. You didn't notice the soft eyes on you, "I think actually...the best one would be getting a few hang up tapestries that you like and change them up every now and then and the other half of the wall with the decor idea." "Y/N?" He snapped around to get you back. "Huh?" You shook your head and saw his nose crinkle with a chuckle. "Search for some and show them to me." He nudged his head towards your laptop. You grabbed it and fell onto the bed next to him and both of you spent the entire evening checking out tapestries on Society6.

Hands wrapped around your sides before picking you up unexpectedly. With a squeal you found yourself on the shoulders of the super soldier. "I was just trying to hang this up." You giggled. "Thought I should help." He chuckled. "My head literally almost smashed into the ceiling." "But it didn't." The tapestry was put up next to the frames and shelves you had been working on all afternoon while he was at the compound. "It's pretty. Thanks for making it that way." He smiled down at you after letting you down again. "No problem. I love doing this kind of stuff." "Pizza?" "Pizza."

"W-" "Just take it. Wear it everyday and use it if you need to." You were looking down at a bracelet that they got configured for emergencies. In case of imminent danger you just needed to press down a button. "But why?" "You live with two Avengers, we'd feel better if you wore it." Sam added. "Oh okay." You were intimidated by the tech. You studied Hydras infiltration into S.H.I.E.L.D. in your freetime after the files came out and while you were aware that your phone was technically also a tracking device, this felt a little bigger than some phone that can be encrypted by a VPN. You put it on anyway, these two idiots would never want to harm you. "Why not simply use my phone?" You looked up. "You better have two devices than one. If somebody gets your phone a bracelet will be the least suspected thing on your body." "Hm. Okay." You looked at the beads of the bracelet. Looked not too expensive but also not cheap. "Guess I'll get used to it." Two relaxed smiles came back at you. Good.

Arms wrapped around you while you made yourself french toast. A grumble and exhausted exhale. "You'd think with two soldiers you'd have people in the house that are used to early mornings." You chuckled. "Not when you slept like shit and have a roommate that feels like a good surface to fall back asleep on." Sam grumbled in his groggy voice. "You want one?" A soft movement on your shoulder was given back. You added one more slice to the pan and leaned back against him. "Damn you, soft woman." He mumbled squeezing you closer and making you giggle. "You awake or falling asleep again?" You chuckled. "Awake. Unfortunately." He whined before letting you go and taking his toast. "Drink your coffee, birdie. 's gonna be fine." You grinned. He tossled through your hair before making his way to his chair. "You havin' any plans for today?" "Hm. Maybe I'll go adventure the city a bit. Quite a bit has changed in the last 5 years." "You bringing dinner on the way back?" His head dipped to the side like a puppy would do it. "Sushi?" "Sounds good to me."

You'd been all around the Central Park area to scope out new places and what had changed. A few big companies went down after the decimation and smaller shops moved into the places. One of them was actually a sushi place and you already felt it slowly getting colder and the sun was getting lower. You made your way to that block. It was a bit further from the park and not much tourist attractions near, so you could slow down your pace a bit. You never made it to the entrance. You were yanked back by somebody and silenced with a hand over your mouth. You opened your eyes again to an empty street, only darkly clothed men all around. How did you not see them earlier. "Well, if it isn't our Avengers girlfriend." A dark voice said behind you, manifesting into a man coming to a hold in front of you. The man holding you let you go a little, knowing you wouldn't run with all these men around. "What do you want from me and who the hell are you?" You said stronger than you thought you could in this situation. Your hand wandered to your wrist, pressing down the little dent in your bracelet. "The Handler, Hydra, we don't want anything FROM you, we just want you. They'd never let their friend die at our hands. They wanna save you, don't they." "You wanna take me to get them?" You made clear out loud. "Yeah. You wanna come with us normally or do we need to use strength on you?" "I come with you, but only if you can prove you're really Hydra and not just some human trafficking gang." You played the game, they wouldn't take long. "Girl, you wanna see prove?" The man grinned. "I know all his trigger words. You wanna die at the hands of Bucky Barnes or do you wanna live?" "Not sure how long you can keep that promise of me living." You smirked, hearing a faint jetpack coming closer. In seconds somebody grabbed you, Sam kicked down the mysterious man and multiple men fell to the floor. You didn't look at the scene but had enough self defense training to kick the man holding you where the sun doesn't shine before ramming an elbow into his sternum and your hand into his face. A metal hand grabbed over his mouth before his body turned limp. "Stay behind me!" You heard from Bucky, finally getting you out of the shock and did as he said. Your eyes were trying to stay as far away from anything trauma inducing as they could. Bullets were kept from hitting you by black vibranium and you flinched at a cry behind you. "Sam, get her out of here." The arms from this morning suddenly felt possibly threatening for a second, then like the only safe option. "Close your eyes." He quickly told you before flying you up to the next best roof. Redwing hovered above you shortly after and you were pressed to sit down on the floor. "Stay here. Gonna make sure everything is safe." You were shaking, heard a few more gunshots and the little computer over you scanning everything around. "I'm just saying. You better tell her soon or she'll never start training to do these things." "She shouldn't need to. Even if I do." The two flew up in front of you, Bucky immediately coming straight towards you with a concerned face. "Didn't know you could break noses, darling." He huffed before grabbing your shaking form close, letting you sob out the shock. "I'm so sorry, Y/N." He mumbled into your ear. "H-home." "We'll bring you home, darling. You're safe now."

"They waited all this time for her to go into an area of the city that's calmer. What the hell could they want from me or you?" Sam was stressed. "They always want me for something." Bucky muttered. "Hey, that's not your fault. Okay?" "I know, but I'm still the reason this bullshit happened to her." "You don't know that." "They wanted to kidnap her to lure us in. Told her they knew the trigger words." Bucky growled. Your pitter patter moved towards the kitchen. Red swollen eyes staring at the two men for a second before you went for the fridge. "He said "come with us or die by Bucky's hands" like it wasn't part of the same plan," you mumbled taking out chocolate pudding, "Which makes me question if they have more stuff to get you with." "I honestly don't wanna try it out without having Steve to kick your head back to normal." Sam shook his head. "I need to call Shuri, Cho & Banner," Bucky muttered before making a quick way out of the kitchen. You sat down on the counter, spoon deep in your comfort food. "You feeling better?" Sam asked. "A bit." "Bucky's still not over you breaking someone's nose. That was badass for someone that's not an agent. But also risky." The last sentence was accompanied by a stern look. You gave a soft smile back, "I knew you both had my back." "I can teach you a few more moves if that helps you." He grinned. "Would always love to learn from my favorite Captain America." You laughed towards the end of the sentence.

"I'll be back in a few weeks. Promise." Bucky looked down at you, regretting that he needed to go to Wakanda. "Gonna miss you." You squished your face into his chest. "I'm gonna miss you too, darling." He smiled down. You pulled his head down a little, making his breathing hitch and his cheeks flush. A soft kiss was pressed onto his forehead before he could get his cool back. "Now nothing can go wrong." You giggled and he grabbed you into a tight hug again with a chuckle before you parted ways and he flew away in the Quinjet.

In the following weeks you got at least one voice memo per day. Sometimes a picture of a beautiful Wakandan flower. Mostly diary-like updates. You kept his room clean, changed the tapestry to a more colorful one, stole some more jumpers and maybe one of his throw blankets. "Sam told me you're a thief again?" He said when you finally video called after a month. "It's getting colder, your jumpers are the best, what else am I supposed to do?" You pouted. "I also see my throw blanket around you right now." He laughed. "I miss you, okay?" You said flustered. "I miss you too. Next time I'm gone I demand to steal something from you too." He grinned. "Alright," you agreed, "How are you doing?" "I think they only test one or two more times for stuff and then I'm gonna be back." "Prepare for the longest hug in the history of hugs." "Alright, darling. Ugh, I need to go. Annoy Sam for me, will you?" He smiled truly happy. "Of course. See ya, Buck."

"No, don't go back before punching. That gives me too much time for defense. Surprise effect." Sam explained to you while showing you some of the things he learned in the military. "So, like this?" You punched him and caught him off-guard. "Damn, girl. You're getting really bold around me, huh?" He smirked. "Thought Captain America could take a hit from someone like me." You chuckled. "Oh, you could easily win against me with the right training. I think Bucky would be hard for any agent or soldier." "Another point for me disliking Steve, thanks. Goes onto the list." "You have a list?" He asked impressed. "C'mon. Good doesn't mean sane." "You're more protective than I thought you'd be." He winked continuing the session. "Why wouldn't I? Physically I'm not a match, but mentally?" You smirked, diffusing a punch. "Fair point." He shrugged, dodging your next punch. "Gaaah." You threw yourself at him in a cuddle attack. "You tired?" He laughed catching you. "Yeah." "Sushi?" "Please."

With a gasp you woke up from a nightmare. A weird one too. Nothing made sense but it had involved your two roommates. After grabbing the water bottle on your bedside table and drinking from it you had calmed down, but not enough to fall back asleep. *I had a nightmare.* *Can't fall back asleep?* *No :c* *Sleep in my bed if it helps.* You had silently made your way to Bucky's room and laid down in his bed, surrounded by his smell. Something about that did wonders to get your eyelids heavy in an instant. The next morning you were greeted with wiggly eyebrows at the kitchen table. "You act like we don't have a nightmare routine." "Yeah, it's real cute. You should try seeing how oblivious you both are. Drives me insane." "Excuse me?" He held his hands up and stayed silent about it for the rest of the week.

You started sleeping only in his room after that day, since it just felt better for whatever reason. You really felt the parts of your day where he was missing. And one morning you finally woke up to arms being tightly wrapped around you with a face pressed into your back. "Bucky?" You whispered tired and turned around. "Hm?" He grumbled half asleep. "I missed you." You grinned squinting. "I missed you too, darling." He peaked his eyes open with a soft smile. You inhaled to say something but held yourself back from doing so. "Missed you more than anything." He grinned with his hand getting your messy hair under control. "Anything is a lot." You giggled. "I know, darling." He pulled you closer, having you in his personal space. "I slept way better in here." You smiled. "Really? Was it because of the bed or the stolen clothes?" He chuckled. "Both." Another giggle left you. "I really want to kiss you right now," he said with his eyes locked on yours. Words failed you and you nodded with a shy smile. Lips touched yours slow and hesitant, testing the waters, making sure you feel comfortable. "I waited so long to do this, god. I'm so madly in love with you." Everything just left him like a waterfall of words. "I love you too, Bucky." Your face lit up. "Sooo, we're gonna stay in this cocoon for a few more minutes?" His hand went down your side. "Of course, you idiot." You laughed. A few more minutes had turned into an hour. Spent with kissing, touching, giggling and content smiles. "You want french toast or not?" You sat up. "I want you...wait...that came out wrong." He laughed. "Oh no, Buck. You meant that the way you said it, player." You grinned. "I mean...it wasn't a lie." Innocent eyes landed on you. "You'd have to kick Sam out for that." You laughed and gave him a little wink, making him blush. "Maybeee I need 5 more minutes." He cleared his throat. "Alright. Good to know." You smirked before leaving the bed next to him warm, while he needed to calm down from any fantasies playing out in his head.

[gyllenhaalstories]

TOMORROW NEVER CAME (time to dance part 2)

SUMMARY: you met with this stranger at the bar a little while ago. things went intense, intensely fast. it was an encounter you would never forget and his final words before walking away, leaving you standing in this cold winter wind have yet to stop resonating in your mind. as you start to believe you will never cross paths with this myserious man and his killer, icy blue eyes, life has other plans.

WARNINGS: mentions of smoking, knives, alcohol, violence, a bunch of dark stuff, smut (d/s dynamic, spanking, rough intercourse)

WORD COUNT: 1 742

NOTES: reminder when i watched CAMERAS FOLLOWING JAKE AROUND DURING A NORMAL DAY and i also stumbled upon THIS AMAZING GIFSET ? i’m back, with a sequel no one asked for! i didn’t proof read it yet but i’ll read it later and correct some mistakes. thank you for reading i hope you’ll enjoy it! 

 You came home from work late, that day. You hated closing the place and working at the last shifts. You were not the easiest person to scare out there, but there was something about winter nights that terrified you. Bulgars could storm in at any moment. Roads could get icy and a car could drive straight into the front window and run you over. You could break a leg trying to climb up the dangerous and squeaky stairs to your apartment. You had an endless list of worst-case scenarios, still... You were so ignorant. 

The only thing you had to be afraid of, was that stranger from the bar. You had a gut feeling about him. He was up to no good. A man like that could not simply disappear from your life as abruptly as he entered it. 

Truth be told, Jake had come back to that very bar every evening. He sat at the exact same table as he did when he met you. He had one eye on the door, hoping to see your heady silhouette. His other eye checked the bathroom, in fear that you would walk out of there with someone else. He waited patiently, hope devouring his soul. He told himself you would be there tomorrow. 

Tomorrow never came. 

He walked out of the bar on a gloomy night and he looked around, waiting for a car to pass by so he could cross the street and go back to his business. He had spotted that annoying duo of friends, who ordered so many rounds of shots it was a miracle they were still standing up. They terrorized the lonely girls at the bar and he was not having any of it. His hands were buried in his pocket, tightly wrapped around the handles of two small knives. All he had to do was to get a little closer... 

Jake looked to his left and his eyes, empty and cold, widened. 

You had your earmuffs around your head and you stared at the ground, trying to avoid any ice spots and an inevitable bone fracture. Your nose and cheeks turned pink from the cool breeze and you bopped your head to the music blasting through your covered earbuds. You did not hear the honks and the loud shoutings, not even your feet breaking the thin layer of ice as you walked up the stairs to your apartment, just the sound of your favorite music. 

The entire time, he watched you. He dragged himself around, following your path from a safe distance. His heart was beating loud, so loud it was deafening. He slid the hoodie of his jacket on his head and followed you. He recognized your neighborhood, he had been around this part of town before. Memories of that night when you smashed the skull of a random guy on the concrete made him grin. 

You took your coat and your accessories off, kicking your shoes on the small mat by the door and made your way to the fridge to drink orange juice straight from the carton. It was only then you stopped your music and decided to head to your bedroom. You did not even know what time it was, and the only thing that mattered was meeting with your beloved bed. You took other pieces of clothing off and decided you’d sleep in your tank top and panties. Your hand grabbed the bedsheets and swung them away, making room for yourself. It was only then you looked up at the walls and noticed a shadow. 

It was long, slim, dark. Heavy breathing echoed from behind you as you slowly, very slowly, turned around. Your jaw dropped open, ready to scream for help, but instead, you went silent. You recognized these features, this body, these arms and these hands that moved you around like a rag doll in that bathroom stall. “What the fu—” you exclaimed, but he spoke before you.

“I won’t hurt you.” 

And you believed him, which made of you the biggest dumbass on the planet. A stranger whom you only met once snuck into your house, your bedroom, and you were trusting him with your life. Quite literally. Oh, the things one person could do for a good fuck... 

“I’ve been waiting for this moment all this time.” 

You studied him. He had removed his jacket, but his hands were still hidden in the pockets of his jeans. You could swear his glance softened when your eyes met his, his shoulders almost relaxing. There was something about this mysterious man that made you feel safe, and you hated yourself for it. “Get out of here.” You told him, your voice practically shaking. 

“I have one of these too.” His chin pointed at the yellow plastic bird on your last stand. 

It was some stupid toy a child gave you when he went to your work place, to thank you for bringing him paper and crayons to draw with when his family and him waited for their food. You looked at the toy, then at the man, in back and forth movements. He was smiling. Smiling.

“You wore that with me the other night, right?” His index finger pointed at your crotch area, but his eyes were locked with yours as you nodded. “I like the color. Red.” His smile grew wider, and he stepped a bit closer to you. 

It was unbearable. “Are we going to spend the whole night talking or what?” 

Like a bird of prey, he dove towards you, his lips meeting yours in a violent kiss. He tasted of whiskey and cigarette, two flavors you never thought you would appreciate. You two battled for dominance, and when you teased him as you sucked on his tongue, you felt your entire body being pushed backwards. You hit the cold bed as he hovered you with his broad shoulders. He kissed you again, roughly, and trailed kisses down to your neck on which he sucked, and sucked, and sucked. Satisfied with the color of the bruise, he grabbed parts of your tank top and ripped it open. Another grin appeared on his face as he busied himself with your breasts and nipples.

Your back arched against him, when you felt his teeth grazing on your sensitive buds. It felt as intense as it did the other night, and you were barely getting started. In a blink of an eye, his head was between your legs and his tongue licked your soaking wet panties. Again, he ripped them off your body and threw them on the ground as he helped you wrap your legs around his head. 

You stretched your arms out to grab his hands as he stared at you through hooded eyes. He was nose deep between your wet folds. The moans you made had him painfully hard, but he did not care about it that much. Again, he used his teeth to bite on your clit before he fucked his tongue into your entrance. He dragged his mouth up to your clit then back to your heat again and again until he felt your legs tighten around him. He pushed them towards you as he took you over the edge for the first time. 

You kept your eyes shut as waves of convulsions took over your body. 

He took the opportunity to remove his clothes, showing up his fit body and his hard, thick cock that he stroked slowly. “Ready?” 

The two of you already knew what was coming. And you nodded frantically. “Please, please just fuck me.” 

“Are you always such a good slut?” His laugh echoed in your bedroom as he slowly pushed himself inside of you. You felt tight, warm and wet and it dragged the longest groan out of him. 

He pressed on your legs, holding them down and wide open for you to watch just how deep he was fucking you. The skin of your ass slapped with his thighs as he thrusted faster and faster. You did not care that your bed was hitting the wall and that all you could do was scream incoherent pleas and thank you’s. 

The man grabbed your breasts firmly and gave them a few blows of spankings. It made you scream louder, and he was loving it. Without telling you, he pulled out and flipped you over so you were on all fours. His sweaty chest was pressed flat against your back and his mouth rested by your ear. 

You heard all of his moans and his praises about how good your pussy felt around his throbbing cock. He never slowed down the pace, leaving you thinking he was not even human at all. 

“Is that pussy mine?” He spanked your ass once, harder than he ever did. “Huh? Answer me? Whose pussy is this?” 

“It’s yours, fuck! It’s all yours!” You stuttered, earning more spankings. “You fuck me so good! Don’t stop!” 

And he certainly did not. Both of his hands used your ass to hold himself up. You were completely pressed into your bed as he fucked you, even deeper. His balls slapped on your sensitive clit and right when he noticed you started to clench around him, he went to grab your throat with one hand, using the other one to spank your red ass cheek. 

“You gonna give it to me? You gonna prove me you’re my fucking slut?”

And you did. You came so hard around him that no sound escaped from your open mouth. Only seconds after, you felt him emptying himself inside of you. He came in long strokes and stayed still inside of you for a while, admiring how exhausted you were from being slayed this hard. 

*~*~*

Jake panted, when you laid your head on his naked chest. He was pulling the blankets up to cover your bodies. The warm feeling of your legs as you wrapped them around his and of your arm around his waist sent electric shocks through his body.

You pressed a tender kiss on his collarbone and closed your eyes, only for a second. 

“It was so fun.” He said, his voice suddenly became monotonous and low, raspy even. 

You looked up at him, a frown on your forehead. You tensed up against him.

“It’s time for you to burn.” 

“What?”

“You’re gonna be sore, it’s gonna burn.” He genuinely sounded concerned. 

“Will you meet me up here tomorrow?” 

[kyidyl]

Not Deer

(This was inspired by that post that was circulating about the Not Deer in Appalachia and the town that I currently live in.  @leftturnat4thandbananas​ I especially thought you would enjoy this little bit of quarantine-induced madness.  You’ll probably recognize some of the things I’m describing.)

“Alexa, stop!,” Macey yelled at the black cylinder sitting on her night stand.  The alarm shut off, and I started packing up my stuff.  I caught her frown as she watched me.  

“What?,” I asked, “It’s almost curfew.  You know how my mom is about curfew.”  

“It’s snowing outside, and it’s dark,” she swung around so she was sitting on the edge of her bed and flipped her long, dark braid back over her shoulder.  

I finished packing my homework into my backpack and stood, “It’s always dark and cold when I go home in the winter.  I’ll be fine.” 

Both the argument and the concern in her brown eyes was familiar.  She was definitely the mom friend in our group, “It’s not always snowing.  People aren’t careful in the snow.”  

“They’re never careful on that road,” we both lived along a back road that wound through farms and woods.  It had a lot of curves, hills, and blind spots - and no sidewalk.  But it was the only way to get home, so it’s the way I went.  She stood up too, following me as I left her room and started down the steps.  

“You can stay the night, you know.  My mom won’t mind.”  

“I know, Mace, but I will.  You know I don’t like getting ready for school here.  All my stuff is at home.  I’ve either got to get up at the ass crack of dawn,” which never happened because we always stayed up late talking, “Or do a walk of shame.”  

I let my backpack down in the hallway with a thunk, and retrieved my coat from their closet.  I’d brought gloves, a scarf, and a hat, too even though I normally don’t.  I was glad I’d grabbed them.  She stood on the bottom step, chewing her bottom lip.  Her parents were out to dinner, so she couldn’t bug her dad to drive me, but I know she would have if they’d been here.  She tried one more tactic to get me to give up on my walk home, “What about your mom? Can she come get you?” 

I shook my head, “Dad has the car.  Listen, I’ve walked home in the snow before.  It’ll be totally fine.”  

She sighed and dropped her arms, “This is what you were talking about earlier, isn’t it.  The worrying.”  

“Yeah, but it’s ok.  I get why you do it,” I gave her a quick hug and hefted my backpack onto my shoulders, “I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”  

“Text me when you get home?”

“Of course! Later!”

“Later, Apple,” I smiled at her nickname for me and left.  After I closed the door behind me, I heard the lock click into place.  Her parents’ rules: if you’re home alone, you lock the door.  I shifted the weight of my books on my back, and looked around.  

Macey lived on a small farm, and so she had a long driveway between her house and the road.  I started walking, and the sand and rocks of the unpaved drive crunched under the soles of my shit-kickers.  Macey’s dad had salted the drive before they’d left, and the stones glimmered wetly in the moonlight.  It turned out that the snowing had stopped while we’d been hanging out, and the clouds had gone.  The ground was blanketed in a couple of inches of unblemished white.  Just enough to cover the grass, but not enough to get school canceled.  

The moon was out, bright and full, and it illuminated the flat, white expanse of the land that stretched out on either side.  The air smelled like ice and cold, like icicles and sleeping forest.  There was only a little wind, and it blew up swirls of loosely packed snowflakes from the ground.  Everything had that cushioned silence that follows a new snowfall.  

It took a few minutes for me to reach the actual road, and unlike the Romero family’s driveway, it hadn’t been touched by salt, sand, or plow.  Typical.  It probably would be covered until tomorrow morning.  Our little town wasn’t exactly proactive about things like that.  They preferred to suffer, I guess.  I gave an annoyed snort to the empty night,  

I was careful as I turned left onto the empty road, watching for the glow of headlights to give me some forewarning of a car.  None came, and I kept walking.  

Soon, the flat land of the farms gave way to the woods.  Houses, none of them of the new construction that made up the subdivisions further up the road, were set back from the road or behind a screen of trees.  This road had hills, and further along it the side of the road would give way to steep ditches and gullies.  Our here, there were plenty of animals.  My parents have hit deer especially a number of times; my dad even bought these weird things for his hood that are supposed to whistle and chase the deer away.  

As the landscape transitioned into woods, there was an old, broken barn.  Not even a barn, really, more like a two sheds stuck together.  Half of it was beaten, lilting boards and a slice for a door.  The other half was a rusting tin can of a structure, the metal walls little more than rust and the vines that held it together, and a set of open doors that led into gloom.  A barely-there metal roof was slanted over the rested half and pitched over the wooden half, and it was only slightly less rusted than the shed itself.  A useless decaying horse gate was off to the side, slanting drunkenly to the right, and a path into the woods was behind it.  

(picture to break up the wall o text.)

I hated that barn.  

It creeped me out.  The hairs on the back of my neck rose every time I got close.  Even as a little kid I hadn’t been curious enough to overcome that particular fear, and it hadn’t gotten better over the years.  Every time I walked home I crossed the street to avoid walking too closed to it and sprinted passed it.  But tonight, the snow and slickness made it dangerous for me to do either of those things.  My heart rate ticked up and I took my hands out of my pocket.  When it came to fight or flight, I was very much in the fight category.  It seemed like the wind blew a little harder, and suddenly I thought I could hear all kinds of noises that I hadn’t heard before.  

The cracking of a stick somewhere in the woods, almost like a gunshot in the dark.  

The fump has a pile of snow was pushed off of a branch somewhere.  

The flap and tumble of some unlucky bird.  

A barking dog menacing me from one of the homes nearby.  

These sounds were normal, but as I was walking in front of the sad, lonely little structure, they all seemed sinister.  They were living things, pulsing in the darkness when I wanted to be alone.  The sounds of my steps in the snow answered.  Shit kickers aren’t stealthy.  

I walked past that structure as fast as I could, the fear tightening my shoulders more with every step.  I clenched my teeth and my fists, and walked.  The stillness was oppressive now, where moments before it had been soothing.  Fear makes you see things in shadows.  

Which is why, when the winter-bared bones of the bush in front of the shed clacked and scraped together in a gust of wind, I screamed and ran.  Damn the snow, damn fight or flight, I was not looking to fight some supernatural entity tonight.  

Apparently, though, the laws of physics still applied to me.  I ran, but I didn’t get very far before I tripped have a big branch on the side of the road.  My feet slipped in the snow, and I went down face-first onto my hands and knees.  

In case you have ever wondered: snow does very little to cushion a fall onto rocks and rough pavement.  It only makes your clothes wet on top of giving you road rash.  And that ish hurts.  

“Great, Alisha, juuuust great.  Skinning your damned knees like a five year old because of some wind,” I grumbled aloud to myself as I stood and started brushing debris off the now-wet knees of my jeans.  I checked under my gloves, and while my hands stung, the gloves had saved me from the words of the skinning.  In fact, the worst was the throbbing on the back of my head where my backpack had slid up my back and smacked my head.  Well, that and the knowledge that whatever goblin lived in that shed was probably having a laugh at my expense.  

The fall did do one good thing, though.  It broke through the worst of my fear, and I laughed to myself as the adrenaline started wearing off.  I started down the road again, stomping in protest, my cold hands jammed back in my pockets.  

From here, the road got darker as the trees reached overhead.  Even in the winter they blocked most of the light from the moon, and out here in the country they didn’t bother with street lights.  The embankments on the side of the road rose and forced me to walk directly on the road instead of off to the side.  This was the most dangerous part, because this was also where the tight curves started.  I felt my adrenaline spike again, but this time there was nothing supernatural about it; I was alert for headlights bouncing off of the tree branches.  

As I walked, I listened to the world around me, my caution making my senses stretch further.  I heard the same things as before: the cracking of sticks in the forest as some creature shuffled around them, the huffing of a dog that probably just wanted to play, the whispered hush of snow rearranging itself in the trees, and the occasional noise of some small creatures settling in for the night.  They were the same noises I always heard around here at this time of year, familiar as the nose on my face.  It’s funny how the mind plays tricks.  

I found a good walking speed that wasn’t so fast it was dangerous, but wasn’t so slow that I’d be frozen before I got home, and the time passed quickly.  Before I knew it, I was almost at the little bridge before the turn off for my house.  Really, bridge was a generous word for the small overpass that took the road over the little creek.  It was just a flat stretch of road with a thin shoulder and a low concrete guardrail.  On the other side, the road curved out of view.  

(another pic to break up the wall o text.  Both images are screenshots of Google street view edited in PS.)

Here, the trees pulled back some and the moon was able to shine clearly on the flat surface of the bridge.  There, standing in the middle of the road, was a huge buck.  I’ve seen a lot of deer living out in the stix, but this was easily the biggest one I’d ever seen.  I’m 5′2, and this thing looked like its shoulder would be somewhere around my head.  I didn’t even know they could get that big.  The moon painted its orange-brown coat with silver, and threw the shadows created by its twisting antlers into sharp relief.  They were as big as him - thick and heavy, and wickedly sharp.  I couldn’t count the points from here, but it had to be at least twelve.  

Wait...antlers? It was February.  My dad liked to hunt, and even though I’d never gotten into he, he’d taught me a few things about deer.  One of those things was that the bucks dropped their antlers earlier than this, and it was a good time to go hunting for the shed racks in the woods.  This deer shouldn’t have any antlers this late in the season.  

I stopped in my tracks, and as I did, it whipped its head around to look at me.  There moonlight was a sharp little blade in the dark eyes of this thing as it stared at me from the other side of the river.  It stared, and stared, and as it did, the same fear grabbed hold of my guts and scratched its way across the nerves of my skin.  My heart was pounding, my muscles clamped tight.  This was nothing like the fear I’d felt while passing the shed.  It seemed like a cozy little refuge, now, as I started down this deer.  

I couldn’t understand why I felt this way - it had done nothing but be big and not shed its antlers yet.  That logic didn’t matter.  I wasn’t getting a single step closer to that thing.  I ground my teeth as I stared at it.  I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t.  Right now, my actions were being guided by a part of my brain that kept my ancestors alive.  

Predator, it screamed, that is a predator!

It made no sense.  It was a deer.  Sure, they’d eat meat sometimes if it was around.  They looked at gut piles like they were treats this time of year, but they didn’t kill and eat humans.  That was another thing my instincts were saying - hungry.  This thing was hungry.  I still couldn’t say why or how I knew any of this, but I knew it down to the red marrow of my bones.  

It was strange - the longer I stared down that deer, the more of a tug I felt to keep walking.  To cross the river.  But the terror was useful; it kept me from following that impulse.  The deer huffed, and its breath didn’t fog in the cold.  My brain filed that detail away automatically with the height and the antlers.  The animal sounded frustrated, although it shouldn’t have been possible for me to identify that emotion so clearly.  

Then it started pacing.  I watched in fascination horror as it moved with an awkward, stuttering gate.  It didn’t seem to know how to place its hooves, and it swayed back and forth, all while not taking its too-intelligent eyes off of its prey.  It didn’t know how to move properly, and I remembered that my dad had told me of an illness.  Chronic Wasting Disease - mad cow for deer.  He told me how to spot one, and to steer clear of it.  He told me it was neurological; that it made it hard for them to move.  

But this wasn’t that.  No, this deer moved like it was something else wearing the skin of a deer.  Like it was new to that body and didn’t know how to use it.  Its fumbling reminded me of the way a toddler moved - wobbling and unsure of what its muscles should do, but enthusiastic about being up and walking instead of crawling.  It was like that, but with far less innocence and far more jerks and twitches in its movement. It almost looked like it was adjusting its deer suit as it paced on its side of the river.  

It huffed again and then growled.  Not like a tiger or a dog would growl, more like a cat growling if that cat had the vocal cords of a high-pitched cow. I screamed in surprise and covered my ears at the sound.  

Come.  Here.  I could feel its anger and frustration pressing in on me, looking for purchase, looking for a crack in my terror.  

There was none.  It was all-encompassing.  It was terror of the sort that fueled strength.  Terror that sharpened your mind, that made time slow so you could think faster and survive.  It was the same kind of terror that had saved the earliest of my kind on the savannahs in Africa.  It was terror that whispered to me with a small, comforting voice, do not cross the moving water.  

Of course - it hadn’t even attempted to cross the stream, pacing back and forth over where the edge of the stream was rather than where the edge of the bridge was.  It couldn’t cross the moving water.  

As soon as I had the thought the creature’s growling was honed into a scream.  It stood on two legs, making it tower over me.  It was trying to be more threatening, but I knew now.  I knew as long as I stayed over here I was ok.  

“No,” I said, my voice stead and calm.  I wasn’t loud, but my voice carried in the snowy stillness and into the moon-bright night, “I won’t cross.  You can’t have me.”  

It screamed at me again, eyes narrowing in an almost human expression of incredulity.  Inside my clothes, my skin was hot from the anger coming from the not-deer, sweat trickling down my spine, but I planted my boots and fisted my hands and would not move.  I could taste ice on my tongue, and I took a deep breath through my mouth, letting the cold soothe me.  

Then, there was a sound.  High pitched and clear, it came from somewhere in the woods or fields around us.  It was sweet, and some of the heat of the not-deer’s anger seeped away from my skin.  Its had flung around awkwardly towards the sound and it went back on all fours with a loud thud.  It snorted and pawed the ground, but it hesitated.  Then, the call came again, louder this time.  With a final, angry look at me, it took off into the forest away from me and the road home.  

I stood there on that road waiting, too afraid to cross, until I was sure that I couldn’t hear it crashing through the bushes anymore.  Then I took off like a shot, snow be damned.  I ran across the creek, my feet sliding as I took a sharp right onto the road that led to my house, down that road and up to my house.  I ran straight in the front door, locked it behind me, and pounded up the steps to my room.  

I texted Macey when I got my backpack off, but I knew it was going to be a long, sleepless night.  

[kylan-writes]

Reunion

Post Trespasser Nan Lavellan/Iron Bull fic I posted for Dragon Age Day but forgot to share here! Enjoy <3

A little more than a year had passed since the Inquisition disbanded. Since then Nan had spent her time either running on rooftops with Sera or communicating with Leliana, Cassandra, and Harding. They’d kept their group close knit and tight. Only her closest companions from before and Leliana’s most trusted agents remained in contact, the lot of them scattered to the wind and throwing away any chance of Solas’ agents learning the details of their plans to find him. Nan felt fortunate to have such trustworthy folks around her, and even more fortunate that she still had her closest friends available. 

Nan kept her hood drawn as she stepped through the crowd, her body shrouded by the wool cloak she wore while snow dusted the little city. Winters had never been so bad before. She’d handled them well in the Free Marches with Lavellan, but she was adjusting to living on her own in Orlais now. Sera had her own little apartment not far away, the two of them checking up on each other. Nan had mostly adapted to living with only one hand, though some things weren’t as easy as others. She'd mastered getting dressed on her own, which to her was a major victory.

She glanced past the material of her hood and smiled when she saw her little home. An apartment within an old tavern. There were several fireplaces in the pub to keep it warm and comfortable enough to lure in customers even in the worst of winter. The heat sank into the rest of the building, warming the stone and even managing to keep her home on the third level in a state of comfort. She couldn't help but wonder if he'd had it enchanted.

Nan shivered as she stepped inside, the warmth almost immediately stripping away the cold. She let her hood fall off her head, revealing her pointed ears and the deep purple tribute to Ghilan’nain on her forehead. Travelers stared at her strangely, a combination of confusion and prejudice, while the locals who knew her paid her no mind. Nan stood by the fireplace for a few moments, warming herself up and enjoying the heat on her face. She smiled to herself and winked at the staring humans so that they’d turn away as she strolled over to the bar. She sat at a stool and smiled at the burly Rivani human behind the counter, his scruffy beard carefully combed and his hair neatly trimmed. Nan had become close enough friends with him to learn that his elven wife was the one who took care of his hair for him. The two were an adorable couple and had taken a liking to Nan since she’d started living in their building.

“Good to see you again, Lady Tarshan,” he said in a thick Orlesian accent, the use of Nan’s family name making her smile. Lavellan was inaccurate, her clan’s name, and too well known now. Tarshan took her back to who she was before. It was a little thing that helped her to shake off the lingering title of Inquisitor. “Your usual?”

“You know me so well, Hodges,” Nan said with a smile, dropping some coin on the counter. He gathered it in his hand, knowing already that she’d given him more than enough for her evening’s drinks and dinner. Nan sighed contently as she settled into her environment, watching Hodges as he brought over a stein of ale and a bowl of bean and vegetable soup that had been made for the evening’s guests. And spiced to perfection, thanks to some favors for Red Jenny.

He set down her food with a kind smile. “Here you go,  chérie.” 

“Thank you,  lethallin,” she said in turn, bringing her bowl to her lips and sipping at the hot broth. She let out a happy hum, her muscles relaxing. “Delicious as always.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Hodges said, a smirk playing with his mouth. 

Nan laughed lightly. “Does that mean you’ve not heard any good gossip?” 

Hodges sucked on his teeth. “Now, Nan. I never said that.”

She beamed up at him. “What have you got for me tonight?” 

His dark eyes glanced about them to make sure no one else was paying mind to their conversation, then he leaned against the counter and lowered his gravely voice. “There’s not been much news since the frost stopped bringing travelers, but I’ll tell you what I’ve heard. For starters, the local nobles are getting worried with all the vanishing elves. Wondering where they’ll find such cheap labor now.”

Nan sneered at this. “Bastards,” she cursed as she took a long swig of her drink. 

“That’s not all,” he said. Nan looked up at him  with her copper eyes, staring and waiting for him to go on. “It’s getting worse in the North.”

Her brows furrowed. “How do you know?” 

Hodges glanced around subtly again. “Nevarran nobles visiting associates in Val Royeaux talking their own rumors. Since Tevinter’s had to focus all of their energy on the Qunari, the Magisterium’s getting unstable.”

Nan frowned at this, her hand moving to fidget with the silver locket that dangled from the velvet choker she always wore. The little communication crystal she’d gotten to speak with Dorian resided inside, unused for nearly a week. She’d have to check up on him again when she got the chance. “Anything else?”

“Doubt anything else I mention will be of use to you, my lady,” he said. “You’re the one with connections across Thedas.”

“Unofficial connections,” she reminded him.

“Unofficial or not, you’ve got friends in high places,” Hodges said, acting as though he were cleaning up the counter. 

“The friends in lower places count for more than you could ever know,  lethallin,” she told him with a smile. “How is your family?”

The smile that stretched across her friend’s face warmed her heart. “My daughter, Juliana. She’s working for a tailor now, learning to make dresses for noble women. You should have seen her when she told Emilia and me the news, her smile so bright.”

Nan smiled at him. She’d met Juliana before, the girl an older teenager now, old enough for vallaslin if she was Dalish. Hodges had his wife and workers to help him tend his tavern, leaving their daughter mostly free to choose her own path. He’d been quite adamant in that she never feel forced to do anything, the stigma towards elf-blooded children unfortunately working against her. “That’s wonderful news! You’ll have to give her my congratulations when you see her next.”

He nodded at this. “I’ll be sure to do that, I’m sure that she’ll appreciate it.”

The two spoke for a while longer as Nan ate her soup and drank her ale, only stopping when new guests came through the door. Nan let Hodges tend to them while she sat and listened. Much could be learned of the city’s mood by paying attention to the little things. Orlais made it easier, with all the nobles wearing their extravagant masks that told you exactly who they were. In Ferelden she’d had to learn to notice the little things that distinguished nobles from the common folk. It made it more interesting, in her opinion, to be surrounded by people in practical clothing and to try and tell them apart. Sera had trained her in a smaller city on the coast, not far from Denerim. 

Nan preferred places like her tavern that were filled with people just trying to get by. People like Hodges that were as Orlesian as the rest of them but lacking quite as many masks. It made her wonder what the next city would bring. They stayed long enough to make Friends, then moved on to the next town or city.

“Forgot to mention,” Hodges said, returning to her briefly. Her large copper eyes looked up at him curiously. “Heard word of a mercenary company doing work for a noble outside the city. An odd bunch, led by a qunari.”

Her eyes went wide at this, suddenly hyperaware of the weight of her dragon's tooth sitting on her chest. “You’re certain?”

“Of course not, everything I say is rumor,” he reminded her, turning to gather coin from another patron. He gave her a knowing smile, however. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if this one were true.”

She continued to frown at him, her brows pinched in the middle as someone sat down roughly to the right of her, a shield hitting the counter. Nan nearly jumped in her seat and stared at the sight of Krem waving Hodges over. 

"Fenedhis!” she swore, still startled. “Krem, what are you doing here!?”

Her friend smiled at her as Hodges stepped over to them. “Trying to get warm,” he brushed off with a shiver, dusting some snow from his sleeve. “Snow’s getting worse out there, we might get stuck in the city until it melts.”

“I-I…” Nan could just stare, her mouth hanging open, as she started looking around for the rest of the Chargers. She spotted most of them sitting at a table, not saying much until they noticed Nan looking over. Rocky waved at her enthusiastically and Skinner gave her a rare smile. “I don’t understand.”

“Round of drinks for that table over there,” the young soldier said, gesturing to his friends across the room with one hand and holding out some coin in the other. 

Hodges smiled at this, nodding to Nan before going to get the drinks. The still confused elf closed her eyes and pinched the flat bridge of her nose, breathing deeply to try and make sense of her situation. As blatantly conspicuous as the Chargers usually were, they were damned good at sneaking past her when they wanted to. This wasn’t the first time that they’d done this, the lot of them having surprised her while in Denerim months ago.

“You'll be the death of me,” she mumbled, rubbing at her temples as she slumped against the countertop. 

“No one’s dying as long as I'm around,” the ever familiar voice of her mate said from her left. Nan's eyes grew wide and her head snapped up to see the Iron Bull sitting beside her with his axe leaning against the bar counter beside him.

Nan caught herself before she tried using the hand that wasn't there, twisting around in her seat so she could smack at his thigh properly. “You ass! Why didn't you let me know you were going to be in the city!?” 

“Because it's more fun to surprise you,” he justified, grinning at her. 

She huffed, her eyes narrowed a bit in a glare before she broke into a smile and grabbed the front of his own wool and leather coat, pulling him down so she could kiss him. He chuckled and kissed her back tenderly, both caring little about who might see them. Nan hugged him as tight as she could, the Bull wrapping his arms around her protectively in return. It had been a few months since they had last been reunited.

“I've missed you so much,  ma vhenan,” she said into his chest, smiling at the sight of his matching dragon's tooth resting on top of his coat. 

“I’ve missed you too, Kadan,” he said softly, his words sweet as he gave her a final squeeze before letting go, back to business. “Any word from Red?”

Nan shook her head as she sat back down, facing the open space. She brushed a stray strand of brown hair behind her ear and sighed. “Nothing yet. I'm not even sure where she is anymore, the last letter came in ages ago.”

“You worried?” 

“About Leliana?” She raised an amused brow. “Are you joking? She's the last one people should be worried about.”

Bull chuckled. “Fair enough. How's it going with Sera and Dagna?”

“I miss real fighting,” Nan admitted somberly. “I've been working with this new contraption Dagna made up for me, a little crossbow that fits on my stump. I'm grateful for it, it helps me keep up with Sera fine, but it's not the same.”

“Carrying around a sword and shield might make you more conspicuous,” he reminded her, stealing some of her drink. 

“The tattoos do it enough for me, I bet,” she said, brushing some of her matting hair away from her face. It had been neglected and needed to be combed.

“Tattoos, ears, the missing arm,” Bull listed, smirking as he watched Nan’s frustration grow. “If you were taller you’d stick out more than me.”

“And yet somehow you can sneak your boys into a crowded pub without my noticing.”

He grinned at her. “We’re professionals, remember?”

“Your professionals are going to drink my landlord out of ale,” she said, Hodges and Krem walking past with the steins. The Chargers all let out hearty cheers, their presence in the pub almost overpowering now.

“Krem’ll leave a good tip for him.” 

Nan sighed heavily but looked on the table fondly. The Chargers were important to her in a way she'd not anticipated. They had changed her life, become almost like family. There had been many an evening when Nan wondered if she should try to run with the mercenaries. It might give her a chance to renew her skills as a warrior instead of this sneaky at-a-distance shit. 

But she had work to do. Red Jenny's Friends were her only way of getting half-decent information while in the South as such a small and unofficial group. Especially while Cassandra had her own work to do with the Seekers. Leliana was invaluable, as she'd retained a number of trusted contacts and spies. A couple of her elves had been keeping an eye on whatever Dalish clans they came across for any leaving that might lead to Solas. There were more in Orlais than Fereldan, surprisingly. Though perhaps not as surprising given the still recent Blight. 

Fereldan was a strange one. Leliana's close friendship with King Alistair and Queen Melody was a boon to their cause, even if nothing would ever be made public. Despite the complications that had ultimately contributed to the dissolution of the Inquisition, Melody had been supportive when their situation was elaborated on. The Queen had a quest of her own, but it seemed she had Alistair's trust enough that he promised to pass along useful information, should either come across any. So far, there had been nothing but that promise. 

Bull noticed that Nan had fallen into a thought spiral and placed his hand at the small of her back, gently, to bring her attention back. She looked back and up, smiling at him, patting his knee.

"Do you ever wonder how we ended up where we are?" she asked softly, staring at the many patrons and the bard in the corner doing coin tricks while the crackling fire warmed the night. "Try to string together a series of events so that they might make sense."

He paused, and Nan fully expected him to say no. It would have made sense for him to say no to her thinking out loud. But instead he said, "Sometimes."

"Have you ever tried to pick out that one moment when your life changed irreversibly? That happenstance that marked that there was no turning back?"

He frowned at her, trying to meet her eyes. "What's brought this on, Nan?"

She took to chewing on her lower lip for a moment, worrying it between her teeth before deciding, "A bit of malcontent."

"Your arm?" he guessed cautiously.

"More general than a singular cause," she sighed and bowed her head, her left arm moving slightly before she switched to her right to push back her hair on her head. She was still getting used to it. "Dammit, sorry. Getting like this isn't helpful to anyone."

He rested his arm along the counter behind her. Nan leaned into it easily and relaxed somewhat as he looked at her fondly. 

"It was when I met Krem," Bull said.

"What?"

"When everything changed," he elaborated. Nan nodded her understanding and shifted to face him properly, but still leaning into him. "Lost my eye protecting this scrappy kid I didn't know and gave him a job. A Tevinter kid, no less. He and the others didn’t make life easy."

"You wouldn't change that for anything," Nan said assuredly.

"I would have," he said, in that tone of voice that sounded so matter-of-fact certain. The tone that Nan envied for the confidence it exuded, even when saying such things. "If the Qun demanded it, but they don't. Not anymore."

Nan gave his knee a squeeze and smiled at him briefly before grabbing her drink and taking a few swallows. Across the room the Chargers were enjoying themselves, joyful noise filling the air. 

“I had a conversation with my older brother, Mahanon, before I left to go to the Conclave with our envoy,” she said, still watching them as she held her stein in her hand. “I was still unhappy with the idea of leaving Lavellan to go south. I was convinced that the Keeper was trying to sabotage my role with the halla, as though because I wasn’t born to the clan it made me unworthy. I wanted so badly to be mad at her, but Mahanon pulled me aside and we took a walk. He told me, Deshanna wouldn’t have chosen me to go if she didn’t trust me. That, once I got home I would see how proud she was of me.”

“But you never went home,” Bull finished for her. 

“Nope,” she said, her voice a bit strained around that one word. She palmed at her face and pinched the space between her eyes. “Dammit… Sorry.”

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for,” he said, moving his hand to her shoulder. 

“No, I do. I…” Nan held her tongue for a moment and caught his eye, his expression confused and expectant. She breathed out a heavy sigh and pulled herself together, finding some of that old Inquisitor Confidence as her hand closed around her piece of the dragon tooth. “I’m considering going North. To the Marches.”

The Bull was taken slightly aback by this. “You…” 

“The ruins of Arlathan are on the Northern side of the continent, between Antiva and Tevinter," she cut off, her mood shifting from melancholia to determination mixed with guilt. “I think we’ve exhausted our reach here in the South, but Varric’s in Kirkwall and my family is still in Wycome. And Sera has at least a few Jennies in Starkhaven. Once we’ve made a foothold in the Free Marches, Josie is in Antiva and Dorian’s going to try to help where he can in Tevinter...” 

“You’ve already planned all of this out?” 

Nan fidgeted with her locket but kept her posture rigid. “It’s not so much planned out, as it is conceptualized. But I'm feeling stagnant here. If we were going to catch a lead we'd have caught it by now."

"I get it," he nodded, listening carefully. 

Her fingers moved from the locket to the tooth, holding it tight. "I'm getting restless. I can't stay here. There's too much at stake, and I'm not about to let this damn arm keep me from fixing my mistakes myself."

Bull reached out and brushed some of her hair from her face, pulling his fingers carefully through some of the knots. Nan leaned her cheek into his palm, placing her hand over his and turning to kiss his skin. "You're not alone in this," he assured her. 

"I know," she said, smiling up at him and catching his eye. "I've many friends and I'm fortunate to have them. Even if going North means being further from you."

He smirked as he took her drink again. "Is that what you think?"

Nan frowned, looking between the table with his boys and him. "The Chargers work in Orlais, it's been that way since we met. I won’t ask you to follow me, I’m not even planning to ask Sera and Dagna to come.”

Bull’s expression shifted slightly as he swallowed, brow raising. “You’re actually planning to go North by yourself?”

“I am.”

The Iron Bull looked her over, determination on her face and in her posture. His gaze lingered a little long on her missing arm. There was no getting around the fact that she had been completely changed because of it. He knew that Nan hated asking for help with mundanities because it made her feel weak, even though she needed it. And he knew that she was seeking redemption for something beyond her control. 

“I’m not going to tell you that you shouldn’t,” he began. Nan held her tongue long enough for him to speak. “But you need someone watching your back. And I’m not just saying this because of your arm, I’m saying this because you’re going after a god.”

“He’s still Solas,” she argued. “Whatever else he is doesn’t change that we were friends and that I know him.”

“He has an army and more agents than we could ever prepare for alone.” Nan sucked on her teeth and pursed her lips. “You disbanded the Inquisition so you would be able to trust the people working for you. If you’re going North, the Chargers will follow you."

"Bull, I don't have money to pay your men anymore," Nan sighed, frustration building. "I can't afford your fee."

"For fucks sake, Nan," he swore, his head bowing in exasperation but lacking irritation as he set the drink down. She stared at him, large elven eyes looking up with confusion. "The Marches have just as much work as Orlais, we're only South because I was assigned to be in the South. I can go wherever I want now, and Krem can take charge if I need him to." He put both his hands on her shoulders and held her gaze and spoke softly. "I will follow you for as long as you need me. Once you set up with a partner, I'll rejoin my boys again to do what I can for you out there." 

Nan scanned his face, catching his meaning. "You mean spying for me? Bull, I…"

"I'm not asking permission," he cut off. "You're dead set on doing this, and you're my Kadan. That's my choice, and I'm choosing to support you."

She stammered a bit, still unused to loving and being loved and the implications of that even though they'd been declaring each other theirs for a few years. It had a weight that was altogether comforting but still managed to be somewhat alien. "You're sure about this?" she finally affirmed. 

"I am," he assured her. "If you're taking on the end of the world, you're going to need someone on the front lines."

Nan got up to throw her arm around his neck, standing on her toes while he leaned down to hold her in turn. "Thank you so much,  ma vhenan."

He smiled against her neck and kissed the space behind her ear. "Anything for you.”

She hugged him tighter and felt for a moment as though she might cry out of relief and gratitude. Nan pulled away enough to see his face before he started to pull through her hair again, releasing some tangles. “It’s a mess, I know.”

Bull smiled and shook his head before meeting her gaze. He lowered his voice for only her and leaned in to her ear, “Let me take care of you.”

Nan’s face warmed at the suggestion and a part of her ached to say no at the implication that she needed help. But he’d always been too good at his job. “Won’t you, please?” she said, just enough begging to be playful. 

He chuckled and put a hand to the small of her back, gently guiding her towards the stairs. “Lead the way.”

[xocookiest]

Lesbian Asks!

Note: **I am not a lesbian, but some of these questions do pertain to me a lot. So, I’m answering all these questions because I think it might be something silly and fun to do while I’m self-quarantining. So, excuse the jokes I have made, bits of sarcasm, or if I go a little bit too dark or something for you all. And, if you guys have any questions or need any further clarification about some of the answers I have given. I’m going to be opening up my ask box for a couple of days to answer them, but you’re more than welcome to shoot me a private message. Just keep it respectful and civil, please and thank you. ** 

1) Femme or butch?

         a) Femme Fatale. The character archetype that has drawn in millions of men and women through literature, art, and now the media over the course of centuries because of her mysterious allure, charm, and wit. As it is a thrilling and intriguing experience because you just don’t quite know what the person might do next and it makes you keep guessing, but it also can be an extremely deep and rewarding relationship without words ever being spoken. Plus, I’ve always loved a good mystery to try and solve. And, one of them obviously being the consciousness of the human mind. 

2) Do you have a “type”? If so, describe it

          a) Hm…. I wouldn’t say I have a “type”, but I think I would like a person who would respect my boundaries, honor their commitments, be honest about their mistakes in life, acknowledge their faults, and be willing to change and grow to better themselves, have morals, values, and commitments that they can stick to because it would prove to me in some way that they are loyal. At least to something. However, that’s something difficult to serve up on a platter. So, let’s just say my “type” is a person who has flaws, but is a good-natured person and is trying their best to be the best version of themselves they can be.

3) Plaid button-ups or leather jackets?

         a) What if you own a bunch of plaid button-ups and leather jackets in your closet? What do I do with that? Wait. Is this a preference of style on a person? Uh…. I’m going to have to skip because I don’t really have one. Mostly, because a woman can look good in both and kick a guy’s ass while doing it. So…. yeah. No preference. 

4) Describe your style

        a) Jeans. Long-sleeve/T-Shirt. Jacket/Hoodie/Cape. Boots/Tennis Shoes. Minimal/ No Makeup. Occasional Dress, Shorts, Heels, and Sandals. Minimal Makeup/Full Makeup Routine (DO NOT HAVE at least currently). Those are the most common things you’ll find me wearing. But, here’s the kicker. Comfortability. I repeat. Comfortability. I can’t tell you how many times my heels have bled while wearing regular shoes or heels while walking on them or bruised the side of my toes or feet while wearing flats or sandals. Ugh. Fashion does not need to be painful people. You can look good and be comfortable in your own skin without being in pain. Plus, who wants to feel like your dress is falling off you between your legs while you’re at an event? Other than when you’re having sex or at least about to do so.

5) Describe your aesthetic

           a) Um, okay there is no cute way to describe this. I’m a nerd. I like playing video games late into the night, reading books, comics, or manga for hours that I forget the last time I ate, diving into a new anime, K-drama, or old cartoon that I stay up till the next morning watching, struggling to write and publish stories, and doing cosplays while meeting new and interesting people. But I also love watching documentaries about history, science, and art. I can’t stand to be inside too long because I feel claustrophobic and it reminds me of being trapped in a room with someone I don’t particularly like. So, I take hour long walks in my neighborhood, woods, forest, cities, and beaches while blasting really loud music that will probably damage my ears in the long run. So, don’t expect me to hear a single thing you’ve said when I have them on because it takes forever to get my attention since I have such a one-track mind. Plus, I’m terrible at cooking almost burnt down my friend’s house once with a microwave. Hence, why I prefer doing the prep work, dishes, and gardening. Though, don’t ask me to slaughter a live chicken. I can’t do it. 

6) Favorite article of clothing?

           a) A jacket. Did you expect anything else?

7) Favorite pair of shoes?

          a) Boots. Specifically, Steel-Toed Boots. So, if you ever drop anything heavy on yourself, it doesn’t hurt as much or if someone is really bothering you. It gives you an extra kick.

8) Current haircut?

         a) Long Hair w/ side bangs. I’m cutting it for the summer to be above my shoulders just because summers are just hot and long hair is just difficult to deal with when it is hot and sticky on your face.

9) Any haircut goals for the future?

        a) I’m hoping at some point I can get some red ombre at the ends of my hair because it adds a nice accent, but it’s not really necessary. I just really cut my hair shorter in the summer and let it grow the rest of the time. So, I’m not overtly cold in the winter/fall. 

10) Describe the best date you’ve been on

        a) I haven’t had one yet. So, really can’t tell you that one.

11) Describe the worst date you’ve been on

        a) Can’t really tell you one that’s been that bad. Since I think every date has its worse and best points in a date. But maybe there is one and I just haven’t realized it yet. Does a guy who leaves you on the curbside count? Seriously, though. What counts as a worst date for you guys?

12) Single? Taken?

          a) Single. Definitely, single. You can tell by how my friends get overly excited any time I’ve tried dating anyone or tried setting me up with someone they think would be a good match. Most of the time I think they’re giddier than I am about me going on a date with someone. My gosh. Actually, rewrite. I’m not giddy at all I’m just a bottle of nerves they just try to settle down before I actually go on the actual date. Lol.

13) If taken, talk about your girlfriend/wife!

         a) You know, I would love to do this because it just would make me smile to read it. But, unfortunately. I don’t have one to talk about. So, if any of you have a girlfriend or wife you want to talk about here. Please do it. I want to read your stories. 

14) If single, what are you looking for in a potential girlfriend/wife?

         a) Err…. I’m not actually looking for anything in particular, really. I just want them to be a nice and good person who I can spend hours talking and spending time with and want to spend time with. Is that too much of an ask to the great universe of the world? 

15) Describe your dream wedding

         a) My dream wedding is having a small wedding with family and friends that love and support me and my relationship with my partner. I don’t really have an idea of what I really want for it, but what’s important is celebrating your relationship with the person you love. Maybe, outside? But, then you have to think about the weather and what’d it be like. So, maybe I should do it indoors. I don’t know, alright. I thought a wedding would always be something that you and your partner would discuss and figure out together, I guess. 

16) Do you want kids?

        a) What if you already have one? What happens then? Though, as of this moment I do not. I love them, don’t get me wrong and I would really love to adopt a child who really does need a home, but I’m just not financially stable to do so currently or am staying in one place long enough that would make a stable life for one. Hence, no kids currently.

17) If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you live?

        a) Um, that’s a difficult question currently because my plan is to travel the world? So, is around the world a good answer because I’ve never actually felt at home anywhere and the last place, I really felt at home was in my hometown in California. But that isn’t really home anymore either. So…. yeah. I don’t really have a particular place I want to call home or live. Anybody have any ideas on that?

18) Favorite lesbian movie?

        a) I’ve only ever watched one lesbian film called, Jenny’s Wedding. Which hit a little too close to home at the time. So, I only could watch the film in bits. But if anyone has any recommendations, I’m open to them. Just shoot me a message.

19) Favorite lesbian novel/story?

          a) Okay, I love reading books. But this is the one thing lacking in my repertoire. Please recommend me something intriguing to read. I can’t stand the idiocy of human male and female relationship anymore currently. It is driving me nuts. So, I’m asking please let me go insane with other stories not dominated by male and female relationship. Otherwise, I would highly recommend you guys try reading Queen of Thieves. It’s a choice story written by several different writers for Lovestruck. So, you have several different partners that you can choose from. But, my god. The route for Vivienne Tang is just a gold mine and I’m salivating for the next season because it’s just so freaking good. If you’re reading this xekstrin. I love your work there and know that if you were to ever write a novel. I’m buying it. No questions asked. Oh, and tell your wife, “Hi!” for me too! =)

20) Favorite lesbian song?

         a) Okay, so this sounds terrible. But I don’t have one because I just like the sound of the music, sound, or lyrics and it changes frequently. Not to say, that I don’t have any lesbian songs in my playlist because I probably do. However, I did look up some songs? And, apparently 1950 by King Princess from my Spotify playlist is one of them. So…. I probably have more, and I just don’t realize that they are there because I have a tendency of fantasizing about scenarios based upon the song and lyrics anyhow. But if anyone has any recommendation for songs. I’m down to listen to any of them. 

21) Favorite lesbian musician?

          a) So, I’m terrible with names and I barely ever look up an artist or even what their sexual orientation is. So, I’m going to have to say I don’t have one because I honestly don’t even have a favorite musician and even if I did, I don’t think I’d even know if they were lesbian. But I probably do have some lesbian musicians in my Spotify playlist? I just don’t think anything of it because if you like the sound, music, and lyrics then you listen to more of their music. At least that’s how I think about it. But it is different for other people. So, that’s understandable. Everyone has different tastes and ways they enjoy music. However, if you know some artists with songs, you’d think I’d enjoy. Shoot me a message.

22) What lesbian stereotypes do you fit into, if any?

       a) What stereotypes? Can someone please educate me on this subject? Also, why? Other than, the reason it’s easier to identify the type of person because as much as I think it is utterly rude to do so I have to admit there is some truth to them. But not everything you hear about a particular stereotype is true. For example, not all goths are dark and brooding or wear black constantly. However, this might be a consistent part of their wardrobe because its comfortable or it’s their favorite color. So, sue them for wearing dark clothing and being interested in something they like. 

23) Ever been assumed to be nothing more than a gal pal?

       a) Oh god, yes. If you’ve ever met a girl who you’ve ever wanted to be more than friends with and they say, “You’re such a great friend.” That’s just your heart breaking into a million pieces, dude. Hope you have a dustpan and a lot of glue because that’s going to take a while to work through with all the tears and blood spilled over it. So…. yeah. 

24) If a woman wanted to woo you, what would a surefire way to accomplish that?

        a) Uh…. I have no idea. I guess you’d have to date me to figure that out. Lol.

25) Be positive! What do you like most about being a lesbian?

       a) I’m not one, but I can tell you what I admire about you guys. And, that’s your strength because you guys take on so much scrutiny and blame for things in media and even in your own communities and that takes a lot of strength to do. So, I’m proud of you guys for being so strong and supporting each other when things get tough. For those of you who are still in the closet, I hope one day you find a safe place where you can come out to your loved ones and be comfortable with who you are because finding that place is just as important as finding the person you want to spend forever with too.

26) Are you more of a cat person or a dog person?

      a) Totally, a dog person. Mostly, because my friends keep telling me I look like a kicked puppy every time they tell me we can’t do something. Like go to the nearest frozen yogurt shop after just eating out at a restaurant or doing something inappropriately dangerous. Though, I’ve been living with like three different cats for almost two to three years now on and off. So, maybe. I’m actually a cat person. 

27) Turn ons?

     a) Wit. You can’t honestly say you wouldn’t love a woman who could tease you with her extensive vocabulary and had you begging on your knees for more. Would you?

28) Turn offs?

     a) Arrogance. Look, if all you care about is yourself and how important you are to the world. Then, that’s great and good for you. But that really doesn’t leave a lot of room for you and I that doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed your space and time alone when you need it or even to celebrate your achievements, but also give your partner that same respect too.  

29)Do you usually ask other women out or do you wait for them to ask you?

      a) I actually try not to ask them out, but it always ends in failure. So…. yeah. I ask them out. 

30) What is your dream career?

      a) To be able to work as a traveling librarian while being an investigative reporter that writes novels and scripts for film and tv, but also can work on film and tv sets as part of their set or run crew when I’m not traveling or writing. That’s a dream. Really, it is my dream career. 

31) Talk about your interests or hobbies!

      a) I think I’ve spoken about them in length enough. So, I suppose I’ll just tell you what you can probably find me doing on a regular Friday night. Which is watching a show intently on my television or laptop and screaming at the screen or reading a book on the bed or couch with my ear plugs on while drinking sprite and hot cocoa with a blanket wrapped around me. 

32) What is the most attractive quality a woman can have?

      a) Again, I don’t know I think it really depends on the person you are with because the thing that you find initially attractive might not be same after you get to know them. Not to say, that it is a bad thing. But that love is sort of evolving and as your relationship grows with the person, you’re with the things you love about the person will change too. So, I think that the most attractive quality a woman can have is just being able to be genuine or be comfortable with themselves because if it feels forced. It’ll feel forced to the other person too. I guess. Am I making any sense here?

33) Do you love easily, or does it take time for you to warm up to someone?

      a) That’s a difficult question because sometimes it takes time for me to warm up to someone, I don’t really know all that well when I first meet them and other times, I’m really open about it. I think it really depends on the person, though. 

34) Ever fallen for your best-friend?

      a) Yes. My best friend in high school. She and I had been friends since 7th grade in middle school. We used to talk and hangout all the time after school using a messenger application and I hadn’t realized it until much later. But, by that point she was already with someone else and I didn’t really want to impose my feelings or strain the relationship. Though, I’m pretty sure her girlfriend at the time knew something was up because I don’t think she liked me very much. Though, understandable considering things. So, eventually the relationship sort of faded out as she started hanging out with my friends and I less and less as her and her girlfriend got closer.

35) Ever fallen for a straight girl?

    a) That’s a good question. I probably have and passed it off as me just being a caring friend. Which, with my sexual orientation becomes a little difficult to differentiate between sometimes, anyhow. Seriously, it is a freaking headache. 

36) The L-Word: yes or no? (love it or hate it?)

   a) Are you talking about the word lesbian or love because I don’t necessarily hate the word on either side of things it’s just…? Can we (people) really not think of a better word to describe it? I mean. I know it’s pretty hard to find a word that encompasses the meaning of something, but people make up words all the time. But I think for right now the word lesbian works and is fine. So, thoughts?

37) Favorite comfort food?

    a) Soup. There is literally no other food that makes me feel happier when I’m sick or upset. Especially, if it’s made by someone you love because it makes it all the more special. Though, don’t be surprised if I ask for seconds and then just skip to dessert instead.

38) Coffee or tea?

    a) Tea. I don’t drink coffee as much. It’s just too bitter for me, not that there aren’t teas that aren’t bitter, but I’ve always had to put so much sugar and milk into my coffee that it doesn’t make any sense to just waste the coffee. Hence, any time I get coffee it goes straight to my mom or one of my friends who practically runs on it. And, I just don’t do that as often when I’m drinking tea. Except, for Thai Tea. Which basically is like coffee for me.

39) Vegetarian? Vegan? None of the above?

    a) Neither. I’m willing to try vegan food, though. Just don’t expect me to be entirely excited about it. 

40) Do you have any pets?

    a) I have a cannibalistic goldfish. And, before you ask. Yes, she does eat other fish. I call her Cannibal, it used to be Christy. But, now it’s just Cannibal. 

41) Early-riser or night-owl?

    a) Night-Owl. I can’t seem to get up that early for some odd reason. Oh, well. I try to, though. Key word: Try.

42) What is your sign?

     a) Are you asking what my astrology sign is? If you are it’s a Cancer. I was born on the 6th of July. Apparently, I was supposed to be a 4th of July baby. Lol, that would have been an event. However, if you’re asking what year I was born then I’m going to have to say I was born in the Year of the Ox in the element of fire. You can probably figure out the rest from there I suppose. 

43) Can you drive?

      a) Yeah, I drive. I’ve only been driving for a couple of years, though. I am actually really terrified of driving on the road. It’s why it took so long for me to get my license and that I actually don’t particularly like driving. I’d actually prefer if I could walk, fly, bike, subway, train or bus somewhere, but most places in the United States don’t have much of a transportation system that is consistent or reliant enough to do so here. Unless, you live in a bustling city like New York. Hence, we have overpriced dangerous honking killing machines zipping through the roads. So, drive safely guys. 

44) Who was your first lesbian crush?

       a) My first lesbian crush? Hm…. a girl I met in college I guess? She was in the same major and courses I was but was a year behind me technically. She was a really intelligent and nice person, though I wasn’t able to actually hangout with her as much because I had other priorities at the time. The funny thing was I didn’t even know she was a lesbian until a friend of mine told me when the two of us went to trivia night at a bar that my friends and I frequented. Now, before you ask. How could you not know? And, my answer is I’m an oblivious child. Seriously, I have a bucket of stories that will tell you that along with my friends who have stood or sat right next to me and watched a girl or guy flirt with me and ask me out and I being a completely dense human being. Don’t catch it.

45) At what age did you know you were a lesbian?

      a) Hm…. when did I know I liked girls? Probably forever ago just didn’t want to admit to it because I was told so many times it wasn’t “right” to do so. But, I don’t think I really knew officially until I was in high school when my friends at lunch one time all spoke about some guy or girl they liked, and I didn’t really have anyone in particular I liked at all. Well, I did. Just didn’t tell her because I was in denial at the time that I wanted more than just a friendship. Which, is a situation I think a lot of people have been in before. 

46) At what age did you come out (if you have)?

      a) Came out to my close friends in college freshman year. But technically I told my grandmother way before that when I was in 4th/5th grade one time when I was really upset about a bunch of kids bullying me at school and just outrightly told her when she asked if I liked anyone and I said, “I don’t like anyone. Boys suck and I don’t even really like girls all that much either.” And, she laughed then said that’s okay. Just focus on doing what you like to do, and the rest will sort itself out. Plus, boys and girls can be really immature anyhow. (Apologies, to my little brother if you ever read this. But you have to admit you were a real brat to handle as a child. Love you, anyhow though.) Then, I unwillingly came out to my parents after graduating from college when I got wrapped up in some family drama. Woof, that was a horse. But it is over with now. Nothing, I can do about it now. 

47) Are you crushing on anyone at the moment (celebrity or otherwise)?

     a) Hahaha……. yeah. But she is currently unavailable and that’s okay. I’m not really in any rush to be in a relationship currently.

48) Talk about how your day went

     a) What do you talk about when you are stuck in quarantine? Do you tell the internet you spent the last three days trying to finish answering a Lesbian Ask! Questionnaire because you were really bored and was tired of staring at job applications all day? Because that’s what happened. 

49) Talk about your dreams/aspirations for the future

    a). I hope that one day I get to settle down somewhere and call it home. Have a loving partner, a kid, a dog, and two cats. And hopefully, it’ll be somewhere in New York or at least close to there because it seems like every single one of my friends plans on moving there at some point. Lol. 

50) Least favorite gay celebrity?

     a) Wow. Great question. No idea. Lol. Like I said. I don’t know much about celebrities and their sexual orientation because it shouldn’t matter what someone’s sexual orientation is. Since it shouldn’t change a person perspective about you because you’re still you. Nothing’s changed. Just the fact that your friends, family, and close relatives now know a little bit more about the type of person you like. Nothing else. And, if someone wants to give you crap about it. Let them be small, ignorant, and stuck in the past while you get to enjoy and see the world for what it is. A very dark scary dank place that screws over a lot of people sometimes, but overall, it’s a relatively nice, beautiful, and an ever evolving place that always seems to keep you on your toes. 

[jswdmb1]

Fever

Fever got me aching

Fever, why won’t you explain?

Break it down again

- The Black Keys

It started with a cough on Monday.  I just got over a bad cold about two weeks ago, so I shrugged it off as a byproduct of getting over that.  Then I went to the gym after work and fell completely flat after just a couple of laps around the indoor track.  A little unusual, but I haven’t exactly been burning it up workout-wise this winter, so I passed that off to being out-of-shape.  I woke up the next morning with a splitting headache, but went into the office anyway, because I concluded that was sinus issues and probably just a by-product of a bad night’s sleep.  There’s no way that I could be sick.   Let’s press on.

To help ease my symptoms, I went to Walgreens and got the troika of OTC medications: Tylenol, Musinex & Flonase.  Those helped me get through the day, but by the time I got home later in the evening, I knew I was in trouble.  All of the above symptoms were accompanied by chills and body aches.  Time for the thermometer, which confirmed a low-grade fever of around 100.0F.  After a night of no sleep, I did a very 21st century thing and e-visited my doctor.  I didn’t feel like going out and nobody needs my germs.  Besides, I already knew what he told me - I have a virus, probably the flu, get rest & plenty of fluids, stay out of sight for a few days, yada, yada, yada.  Despite the unexciting news (my son was certain I had coronavirus), it was good to confirm that I needed some down time to recuperate and this time I was going to take doctor’s orders seriously.

I also have the issue of my family to deal with, specifically my wife.  Over the years, I have been blamed for bringing countless flus, colds, stomach viruses, and even pink eye into the house.  I’m not really sure why, but I seem to be very susceptible to the mundane but annoying illnesses of our day.  This time, there was no way that I was going to chance things and I quarantined myself.  I decided the best place for that would be my 6th grader’s bedroom because it was probably due for a fumigation anyway.  He happily moved into the basement, my wife got away from my germs, and I got a private room to convalesce (there is a fourth person in the house, but she is a high school girl, so she is indifferent to the whole thing).  

As I write you from my solitary confinement (my only visitors are an occasional drop in from one of the dogs who sniff a bit then leave), I realize that I have probably spent too much time by myself, some of it in a fever-induced haze.  Therefore, I think it is prudent for me to give you a few thoughts I have come up with since falling ill so that the outside world doesn’t forget about me:

The concept of a fever will always intrigue me.  If you have a temperature of 98.6 you are fine, but go up a degree or two from there and you are sick?  Doesn’t make sense.  In the summer if it is 98, 99 or 100 out, can you tell the difference?  And why when I was a kid, was a fever the absolute and only factor that could keep me home from school.  I could be vomiting blood, but if it didn’t produce a fever it was off you go.

There are plenty of ways to hydrate when sick, and I have tried them all, but the best option is to take a tall glass and fill it with ice (crushed preferably if you are fancy like me and have a fridge that has that setting) and then put some good lemonade (like from Trader Joe’s) in the bottom half.  Fill the top half with real ginger soda (again from Trader Joe’s) and you are going to hydrate like a champ.  In the mornings, that EmergenC stuff mixed half with water and half with OJ is also good.

No one loves game shows more than me, and being sick is always a great time to catch up on my favorites.  These past two days, I have watched a lot of Jeopardy and concluded that it is the greatest game show of all time and Alex is the best host ever.  This updates a previous declaration I have made about Match Game and Gene Rayburn being superior, but that is not true.  As much as I love Match Game, it is really not much of a game and Gene was more of an entertainer than a true custodian of the genre.  No one surpasses the ability and wit of Alex to handle the gameplay of Jeopardy like he does.  He is a class act and I will treasure every day with him from here on out.

I have also caught a bit of news, which isn’t normally my habit, but I saw the election results in Iowa and New Hampshire and became a bit curious.  Now I realize I may not be of sound mind right now (truth be told am I ever?), but I think I am starting to feel the Bern.  And, I’m not talking about the rash these flannel sheets are giving me.  I don’t agree with everything he says, but he also is sounding more and more like the only adult in the room, which is what we need now more than ever.  I’ll let the fever go down until I fully embrace this one, but look for more from me on this soon.

For reasons that are unclear to me, I seem to crave late 80’s/early 90’s soft rock for my listening pleasure while I am sick.  You know, like Anita Baker, George Michael, Lionel Richie, and Gloria Estefan.  Stuff that usually sounds horrible to me sounds comforting in this state.  Particular songs I have enjoyed in recent hours are “She’s Like the Wind” by Patrick Swayze (from the Dirty Dancing soundtrack) and “Man in The Mirror” by Michael Jackson.  I think some Toto and Glass Tiger got in there too.  My guess is that after my fever spikes, this odd obsession will go away, but I think I will still keep Brenda Russell’s “Piano In The Dark” in my playlist.  Seriously, that is a great song and if you don’t know what I’m talking about, go listen to it now on Spotify.

I found out that I am probably more productive lying in bed than upright and out-of-the-house.  I fixed a bug in my computer that has been wonking for weeks, cleaned out my e-mail box, and worked through a couple of long-standing loose end projects that have been sitting on my virtual desk forever.  I don’t think I have ever been as well-organized as I am right now.  I am starting to think that doing this at least once a quarter will be better for me and my business whether I am sick or not.

There’s more I could share, but I gather this is already more than you probably wanted to hear.  The good news is that after 48-hours of quarantine I am starting to feel better and may be ready to emerge from my hibernation in time for the weekend. I am confident that all of the rest, fluids, and Tylenol has helped speed up my recovery.  I also believe that these past few days have been a real mental boost, which I agree seems odd, but in a world where downtime is hard to come by, I’ve decided that getting some forced on you for a couple of days isn’t the worst thing in the world.  As a matter of fact, I think it has turned into a real positive for me, which is not where I thought this was going to go when I started coughing on Monday.

It has also given me some time to catch up on things literally and figuratively, and I think I’ll come back with a fresh perspective once I am virus-free.  In the meantime, I’ll just lay here minding myself as I sip my ginger ale-lemonade concoction to the relaxing sounds of Kenny Loggins and his song from that Sly Stallone arm-wrestling movie “Meet Me Half Way”.  However, if you don’t hear from me by Sunday, please send help.  It means I’ve gone too far over the edge and started listening to the entire album of The Carpenters Greatest Hits 1969-1974.  At that point, it is no longer a game and serious intervention is needed.  I promise to be careful, but you never know.  I already can hear that chorus in my head:

“Don’t you remember you told me you love me baby…..You said you’d never leave again baby…”

Stay well everyone,

Jim

[vantekay]

valentine ||jhs

word count: 3.2k

estimated reading time: like 10 ish minutes, maybe? I haven’t been timing these sksks I’m sorry I will eventually come back and time it

genre(s): fluff fluff fluff and more fluff also a scene where you stargaze because I’m self indulgent and like every fic of mine that has a date scene includes stargazing sksksk sorry 

warning(s): none 

“throughout all the seasons, in this transition of winter-spring you've been here beside me with the sweet nothings you're whispering”

hoseok has always called you his rock because you kept him grounded whenever he needed it, reminding him in times of hardships that he was more than enough and that those bouts of feeling like he wasn’t enough would pass. he also called you his rock because you had been in his life for as long as he could remember, literally. you had known hoseok since you guys were kids. teeny tiny tots playing together at the daycare your mothers had both decided were good enough to watch you while they were busy. it all started because you, a very shy kid who kept to themselves in the corner, was crying and you immediately caught hoseok’s attention. you had come to find very quickly that he was the literal embodiment of sunshine and rainbows and everything else that could possibly bring you joy. he had been the only kid to approach you in the daycare since you arrived, and he made it his mission to make you happy. he had introduced himself to you as hobi, and from that day on it was hobi and y/n against the world. as you grew older, you had found that hoseok actually lived in the same neighborhood as you and this led to you and him growing closer as you aged. enter your tween and teen years and you were pretty much bound at the hip, doing anything and everything you could together. you had begun going to the others family gatherings, parties and other special events together and there came a time when both of your families had begun teasing you both about being an item. this would always prompt your cheeks to turn a deep rose color as hoseok denied any chances of getting together with you, claiming you were more like a sister to him. this had hurt you a bit the first few times he had said it, seeing as you had feelings for hoseok that were definitely not brotherly and you had always silently hoped he felt the same but you learned to quickly push those feelings down and laugh along with him whenever family members brought it up. this continued for a couple years until one drunken high school party where you had confessed your feelings for him and, to your surprise, he felt the same. the next day was spent soberly clearing things up and properly confessing, marking the beginning of your new relationship with hoseok. he learned very quickly that you were supportive of him. you always had been, but now that you proudly wore the title of girlfriend it had been enhanced ten fold and it made hoseok's day. whether it was cheering him on at his tennis games or during his swim meets, you never failed to bring a smile to his face when he caught you waving at him from the sidelines, the widest of grins on your face as you showed him how proud you were. you’re praises never stopped on the field though, no, hoseok would hear them the entire way back to your homes, and if you were spending the night at his then you would continue to praise him there too. when he had finished getting ready to relax and you were waiting for him on his bed with open arms, he would happily clamber into bed with you and accept your cuddles, you held him close to your chest as you ran your hand through his hair and continued to talk about how proud you were of him, how amazing he did during the game and so forth, until finally his eyes would flutter closed and the smile on his lips stretched wider.

“you're a lovable, angelic piece of perfect and anything i do for you is worth it times a million and a half”

it should come as no surprise that hoseok loves to do for other people, especially for you. whatever it was you needed him to do he would do it in a heartbeat. you needed a new pair of pants because you spilled coffee on your old ones? hoseok was already on his way to the mall as soon as you told him. you had a really bad day at work and you wanted takeout and a movie night in? hoseok has your favorite takeout place on speed dial and your order memorized and could make it to your apartment in 10 minutes flat with your favorite movie. you were his angel, his world, and he loved doing things for you. hoseok always made it known that you could count on him, constantly telling you that it didn’t matter how busy he was or what he was doing. reminding you that he would always drop whatever it was and help you in any way he could. this made touring a little difficult for him, seeing as how he wouldn’t be able to stop in the middle of a show to help you if you needed him but you knew he would help you as soon as he could. there was one time, however, where in the middle of a show he had gotten a message from your coworker telling him that you had fallen at work and were rushed to the hospital. it wasn’t anything major, just a preemptive trip to make sure you didn’t break any bones from the fall but it was still enough to plant that seed of worry in hoseok. what made this worse was the fact that he was in the middle of a show, in between songs and getting a quick change when he had heard the news from a staff member. they tried to reassure him that you were okay and that you weren’t actually hurt that badly, that your coworker just wanted to make sure you hadn’t broken any bones but it was still enough to drive hoseok mad. he tried to brush it off for the rest of the show and not worry ARMY but you were all he could think about. of course he immediately thought of all the worst case scenarios he could, like you being stuck at the hospital all by yourself because your friend had to leave, or you having broken every bone in your body and having to be put in a full body cast for a couple of months and many other unlikely scenarios. as soon as the show had ended, he rushed off stage to video call you, not even bothering with a text to make sure you were still up. his heart was relieved for a split second when you answered on the second ring, and he didn’t even let you speak before he was already blubbering off his concerns.

“oh god angel I’m glad you answered, I got the text from your coworker saying you were in the hospital as we were in the middle of the show and I was so worried about you. are you okay? did you break anything? do I need to sue your company for the fall? psychological damage that you may have suffered? god baby I’m so sorry I’m not there to sit with you in the hospital right now and- wait, are you at home?” hoseok furrowed his eyebrows and squinted down at his phone screen as you leaned your head back to let out a loud laugh. he backs away from his intense staring with his lips down in a frown and a pout on his face, waiting for you to explain.

“I got out of the hospital like, an hour ago love. it was just a trip to make sure I didn’t break anything, which I didn’t, I just twisted my ankle s’all.” as you spoke you could watch the worry physically drain itself from hobi’s face, his heart shaped smile beginning to form itself on his lips at the thought of you being okay.

“oh thank god, y/n I couldn’t even begin to tell you how worried I was about you, I was starting to wonder if management would let me fly home to see you in case you had been put in a full body cast or something.” now you both laughed, hoseok blushing slightly at how ridiculous he sounded but you assured him that you loved it, loved him for caring so much about you and being ready to do whatever he needed to take care of you. you meant a lot to him, and he would be willing to give you his heart in a split second if you needed it, that’s how much he loved you. 

“cause i love you and i'd like to spend forever in the subtle warmth inside your arms”

hoseok’s favorite thing to do with you has to without a doubt be cuddling. he loves it when you cuddle him or he cuddles you, he doesn’t mind either position as long as he can feel the warmth radiating off of your body and onto his. he loves holding you close, head pressed up against his chest so you can hear his heartbeat while his hand runs through your hair as he talks to you about his day and you talk to him about yours. hoseok always wants to be touching you in some way whether it be hugging or cuddling or holding hands, he always wants to feel your warmth. whenever you go out in public he is holding your hand, if you have to separate for whatever reason he always makes sure you part with a hug and if you guys are just spending time at the dorm or at your apartment you better believe you’re cuddled up on the couch together. hoseok loves it the most when he wakes up with you in his arms, the way you’re always wrapped up in his embrace like you haven’t moved since you fell asleep in the same position. he loves it when it’s raining really heavily and you beg him to sit out in the living room with you, huddled up on the couch with your favorite blanket and a movie on the tv, drowned out by the sound of the rain hitting the glass of your window. he loves it when you rest your head on his shoulder while gazing at something, whether it be your phone or whatever else may be holding your attention and he just enjoys being close to you, and he never wants to let you go.

“i'll keep on creating for you until my final days, dancing in the living room and smooching while the vinyl plays”

one of hoseok’s favorite memories with you is whenever he had a day off and you insisted on dancing with him, since he would continue to practice even if he was meant to be relaxing. the day usually goes something like this, you begin by sitting in the living room and watching him dance, then he insists on teaching you some of the moves so now you’re up and dancing with him and then eventually you convince him to do some kind of slow dance with you as a cool down from earlier. he would never admit it but he loves it when his days off go like this, getting some practice in and then ending it with you and him slow dancing while your bluetooth speaker plays whatever love song you have in your playlist. he loves holding you by the waist, watching as you lean your head forward on his chest while you dance, hands intertwined and the soft sounds of your breath mingling as you sway together in the living room. hoseok will begin his kiss attacks with simple smooches to you hair, and then gradually makes his way down to your face after you’ve removed it from the warmth of his chest to look up at him. he starts his descent at your forehead, leaving a kiss there before travelling to your nose, and then both cheeks, your chin, the corners of your mouth and then finally landing on your lips. the kiss is always soft and sweet and makes butterflies erupt in your stomach and you can’t get enough of him which leads into a makeout session. hoseok’s hands grip your waist a little tighter as your hands move to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck, not once breaking apart for air. you continue like that for what feels like hours, just holding each other and sharing kisses under the dim lighting in your living room until hoseok’s stomach begins to growl louder than the music playing in the background and you break apart with a laugh, walking into the kitchen together to prepare a meal.

“cause we can both hear the compliments coming in from these pals of mine and I've been wondering if you would be my valentine”

hoseok remembers back in highschool, when you had just started dating, and valentine’s day approaching faster than he would have liked. he was nervous seeing as it was the first holiday you would be spending together as a couple and he wanted it to be perfect. his friends had encouraged him, telling him they would help him with any planning or preparations he had. what he really wanted to do was take you out for a picnic date at the park you really liked that was a bit of a drive out of town and then watch the stars with you. he tells his friends about his plan in hopes that they will get the hint to leave him alone, but something about the way they smile at him after he’s done speaking tells him otherwise. brushing it off, he waits for you in the school’s parking lot and gets ready to put his plan into action. when you get into his car, he starts to drive towards the location of the park which is on the opposite side of town where you both live. you’re confused, and look over to ask him what he’s doing to which you only get a “you’ll see” out of him. you sit back and enjoy the ride, wondering what he could possibly have planned for today. when you arrive at the park the sun has begun its descent and hobi is quick to pull you out of his car and towards the location of the picnic dinner he has had set up for the past few hours. you laugh at his enthusiasm only to be wowed by the location for which he has picked out. the spot he found has a perfect overview of the horizon ahead, and it perfectly shows off the current setting sun and all of the orange pink and purple hues stemming from it. you stand there in awe, mouth hung open as you watch the sun set and hoseok can’t help but take a couple photos of you, some from a few feet behind you showing off both the setting sun and your silhouetted frame. he smiles down at the photos before walking up behind you and wrapping you up in a hug, head placed on your shoulder as he places soft kisses into the crook of your neck. you giggle before attempting to get away from him, claiming that his shows of affection tickle and that you want to eat. he leads you back over to the blanket and begins to pull out the food he had prepared. to your surprise, he pulls out a bunch of fruits and what looks to be kimchi made from scratch. you look up at him in awe while a blush blossoms on his cheeks. he dishes out the servings of food between the two of you before starting to eat, striking up conversation with you about school that day and what plans you had for the weekend. after you both finish eating and the sun has promptly set, he asks you to lay down with him on the blanket to stargaze for a little. it takes you by surprise, seeing as hoseok has never addressed the idea of finding stargazing particularly interesting but you assume that maybe he had seen posts about it on twitter or instagram pertaining to how it was a cute date idea. you lay hand in hand and watch the stars for about an hour before you pack up to go home, the cold air beginning to nip at your skin and creating goosebumps. once you’re back inside his car hoseok pulls out one last surprise gift for you. you assume it’s a ring, considering the box he occupies in his hands is too small to contain a necklace or bracelet and you feel your heartbeat begin to pick up. hoseok smiles before opening the case and showing off a beautiful gold promise ring set, one for you and one for him. he takes the one meant for you out and begins to place it on your ring finger as he speaks softly. 

“I got these because even though we just started dating, we’ve known each other our whole lives and I can’t imagine the rest of my life being with anyone else but you. I want to continue making memories with you and I want to build my future with you, y/n. so I want us to make a promise that we will always be there for each other.” hoseok looks back up from your hand with a smile on his face as he finishes talking and you quickly lean forward to place a chaste kiss on his lips. “of course I want to spend the rest of my life with you hobi, I promise.” you extend your pinky finger for him to latch onto and he does so with a small laugh, leaning forward to kiss you again. it isn’t until you hear whooping and hollering from outside that you pull away, looking around quickly to spot the source of the noise. hoseok rolls his eyes and leans his head back until it hits the headrest, promptly bringing his hands up to run down his face with a groan. “I knew they were going to follow us here.” he mumbles before his friends arrive at the driver’s side window, smirks plastered on their faces as they show hoseok a big thumbs up. when he turns to unlock the door their expressions all drop, quickly running off into the direction of their own cars in order to escape hoseok’s wrath. you laugh from the passenger's seat as you watch him chase his friends around the parking lot, yelling about how they “need to respect his privacy” and “can’t you guys get your own girlfriend instead of living vicariously through me?!” 

when he finally gets them to leave and has returned to his spot behind the wheel he turns to apologize to you, “as you can see, they were very excited for our valentines plans, and they wanted to see if you would turn me down or something I’m not too sure what they were expecting.” but all you can do is laugh some more and tell him that you didn’t mind, that you thought it was cute his friends wanted to see how things would turn out, and maybe they would finally listen to hobi and stop living as though you were their girlfriend as well.

[dknuth]

Trekking in Western Mongolia -  Canoeing

Day 11

The next morning we began the water portion of the trip, setting off down river in the canoes and inflatables.  

Instead of daypacks we were now using waterproof barrels in the canoes.  We also needed river clothing and gear and not as much cold weather clothes or hiking boots.  So another repacking and reorganizing was in order.  It would all go in the vans, but we could declutter our bags and put a things we wouldn’t need for a while in separate bags.  

We had to pass under a bridge that was low enough to require ducking very low.  But first a railing on the bridge was broken and hanging down into the only span tall enough to get under at all.  So a little remodeling of the bridge was required. 

The river slowed and broadened as we neared Khoton Nuur, a 14 mile long lake.  (Nuur = lake)

The photos get a little sparse at this point for a couple of reasons:  the landscape is opening up, so the vistas are large, open and pretty flat, and I didn’t carry my camera with the big zoom in the canoes.  I’ve water damaged cameras on river trips before, so I only took a waterproof camera when on the water.  But that camera had very little zoom.  So little zoom and wide spaces don’t make for many compelling photos.  Most times in camp I could get to the big camera, but not always.

We  camped just before the lake.  

Day 12 

We had a great view of the mountains behind us early in the morning.  

Then we headed out onto the lake.  Canoeing on a lake means no current, so all this distance we made was by our own paddling and that wind can become a big issue.  Headwinds or course would slow us down, but high winds make the whole enterprise much more risky.  The winds are strongest in the afternoon, so we tried to get going in the morning to make as much progress as possible before the winds picked up.  

Offsetting that plan though was the practice of stopping to visit local families.  When these stops occurred in the morning, it put us at risk of paddling in heavier winds in the afternoon.  

We stopped pretty quickly to visit a family that Tim had visited before.  We had to walk a long distance to get to the family’s gers and as we did we could see a truck driving off and no livestock.  It turned out that the family was in the process of leaving for their fall location.  The boys had left earlier driving the herd animals and the truck had left with the first load of the household goods.  The family said that the boys had been looking for us as Tim had visited about this same time twice before and were disappointed to have to leave before we showed up.  We left some gifts with the family for the small kids that were there as well as kids that weren’t. 

They gave several of our people gifts of dried curd.  We really didn’t realize how much until that evening when everyone presented their dried curd to the cooks.  It was quite a pile.  None of us had any idea what to do with it.  It is hard as a rock, so gnawing on it was not an option.  I guess it is used to make a broth.

They explained that the reason they were leaving a little early was that bears from the mountains behind them were attacking their stock.  

After we left the family we passed a gap in the mountains to the south and found ourselves in a strong cross wind.  We had to change course to get close to shore and paddle pretty hard to get out of the strongest wind.  The experience made me more aware of the gaps in the adjoining mountains and the potential for winds to blow through those gaps and out onto the lake.  (When I’m paddling hard there’s little opportunity for photos!)

After we got past the wind we found a narrow spot without much wind and crossed over to the north side of the lake where our camp was set up.  

We got a good view of the crescent moon between the clouds after sunset.  Judy said it’s called “the new moon in the old moon’s hands,” which I hadn’t heard, but is a nice phrase.  

Day 13

This was a “rest” day, meaning we didn’t paddle.  But most of us hiked up the adjoining hills or such.  It was good weather early and I was up, as usual, so I did a walk up the hill behind camp for some nice dawn light shots.  

It turned out to be a good day for a rest day as it was the rainiest day so far and at times windy.  So we were able to retreat to a tent in the worst weather and head out for short walks when it was looking better.  

With the change from camel supported to vehicle supported weight was no longer such an issue and we found we had several additional items along: a collapsable stove for the dining tent, and a generator to support electric lights in the cook and dining tents and a charging station for the cameras, phones, GPS  devices etc.   The stove could burn wood, but usually,  as with the nomads, manure.  It did keep the dining tent warmer and helped to provide a place to dry wet gear at the end of the day.  (Cold, damp neoprene socks in the morning are not appealing!)   

We had been using extra batteries and power banks to keep electronics running, but that wasn’t going to last much longer for many items, so the ability to recharge was welcome.  

We had some nice color in-between the clouds at sunset.  

Day 14

Another re-packing as we were camping on an island tonight and so would have no support vehicles.  So we packed more stuff into our waterproof barrels and added tents, food, and other gear into the canoes.  That made them heavier and less stable, so we needed to be a little more careful paddling.

I hadn’t done this much paddling for many years and frankly I was pretty rusty.  So I had to work to get a good stroke down.  As we paddled I was remembering paddling with Cathie on trips to the Boundary Waters in northern Minnesota.  We worked at paddling straight and paddling smoothly and silently.  So I started working on that and got, Bhugii, my canoeing partner doing the same.  I found it very efficient paddling and very enjoyable.  I mentioned it as my favorite part of the day in the evening’s recap of the day.  

We passed through a section of river and into a second lake, Khurgan Nuur, to get to our island camp.  There was a store and a border guard station along the river.  The store was the Mongolian version of the country store of days ago: an assortment of clothing items, package food items, sundries etc.  Certainly nothing I needed, but it was the only store for many miles.  

We also stopped to visit a family and the kids were fascinated by the canoes, so the guides took them out for a few minutes which delighted some and terrified others.  

The island is uninhabited but has a herd of horses on it as there is good grass and they are pretty safe there.  

Day 15 

We woke to scattered clouds in the east and a stunning sunrise.  

We set out early to get across the lake.  As we were paddling we could see clouds and rain on the mountains behind us and could tell that it was moving our direction.  So we paddled pretty persistently trying to keep ahead of it.  

Of course that didn’t stop us from stopping to visit.  This time the family wasn’t in a get, but a one room log cabin, but there were no animals.  They explained that this was their spring residence.  Their herds had been taken to their fall residence, but they were here to cut hay to store for spring.  

Their grass at their winter location will run out before the spring grass is up enough to fee their animals, so they cut grass in the fall at their spring home, so there will be supplemental hay available in the early spring.  It clearly takes a lot of work and planning to be a nomad in this area.  

Outside there was a large pot on a fire with something very dark and thick cooking in it.  I suggest it looked like Jeff’s coffee, but in fact it was home-made soap.  

After leaving them we could see the rain coming closer and paddled pretty hard for the far shore where our vehicles and lunch were waiting for us.  We landed and pulled the canoes out of the water just as a strong, cold wind hit. So it was excellent timing.  

The rain was just sprinkles and after a quick lunch we walked a few kilometers to the evening camp on the river downstream from the lake.  (This section of river was not suitable for canoes, although the two inflatables did paddle it.)

Our camp was immediately adjacent to a family’s get and animals.  Like all nomad families they had a guard dog to protect against wolves.  This dog worked overtime all night long, patrolling all through and around both our and the family’s camp, barking the entire time. 

[secret-rendezvous1d]

D E C E M B E R  5 T H

REQUEST Could you do maybe a sadder one after Ellie and Alfie’s miscarriage and for Christmas they all cheer him up

A little bit of a sad one.

Edited from the request but still following the concept.

We haven’t really gone in too deep with Alfie and Ellie’s miscarriage so that may be something we need to talk about in the new year; it’s a massive part to their storyline, therefore a huge part in the missus and Harry’s storyline so, as sad as the topic may be, it would be something I’d like to delve deeper into. To give you an insight to that part of their lives.

I know a lot of you are eager for some smut to commence and those stories will soon be posted for you to read; keep bearing with me as Blogmas progresses.

!! TRIGGER WARNING; THIS STORY CONTAINS AND MENTIONS ELEMENTS OF MISCARRIAGE !!

If this is one topic that you are don’t want to read, can’t handle reading or don’t feel comfortable reading then please SKIP this story.

Feedback is welcomed, as always - please let me know what you think of my pieces, send me any constructive criticism you think would help out, any ways to make my writing better, anything. It really helps me and keeps me motivated to write and we get to work as a team to make things better, for me to write and for you to read.

Enjoy! x

D e c e m b e r  2 0 t h  2 0 1 8.

YN had always loved big, family Christmases.

Ever since she was a little girl, when she was old enough to know what Christmas was all about, she had always loved when her parents got everyone together for the twenty-fifth of December; old family friends who they had asked round to celebrate, her grandparents who they invited round for a big dinner in the afternoon and her aunts and uncles who they had asked to come round to enjoy a buffet tea in the evening. Seeing those family members and those family friends that she and her parents rarely saw through the year but had always missed and would look forward to seeing when the time came along with hatter filling a home that was usually quiet and empty from the masses of people and wasn’t commonly filled with drunk laughter filling the rooms from silly stories and the cracking of horrendous jokes being shared throughout the house.

When Harry had walked into her life all those years ago, when she was a new teenager in and amongst the hustle and bustle of London town, each Christmas that they spent together had lead to even bigger celebrations that what she had been involved with when she was a child; Anne and Robin were now a part of her life and had table-places at her parents’ kitchen table for when they planned a dinner, Gemma and Harry had a place in her home like they were another pair of children in her parents’ lives and, sometimes and when Anne had nervously brought it up after much apprehension because she thought it was cheeky of her, his grandparents were welcomed to spend time with them and were given their spare room because it was never fair to send the elders to an unfamiliar hotel.

That was exactly how she wanted to spend Christmas with her own children and with her own web of family that came through partnership and marriage. A full home with all the people she had grown up with and met and grown to love over the years, surrounded by love and laughter and fun and excitement, gorging on the delicious food she had cooked and drinking wine as the seconds ticked passed. Playing board games and singing Christmas songs before cosying down with hot chocolates and cups of tea as Christmas specials showed on the television.

The knocker upon the front door knocked three times, the harsh sound breaking the silence of the lower level of the house and startling her from her place at the kitchen sink, the faucet switched off by her sopping wet hands that she soon wiped on her apron, soap suds popping and disappearing on their own. The sleeves of her jumper hanging over hands as she jogged through the living room and burst into the porch, pulling the door open with abrupt speed, to reveal the only person she was expecting. Her son. Standing tall upon the top step and dressed in a thick coat, with his unruly curls peeking out from underneath his beanie and accentuating his earlobe - one ear homing an air-pod with his other looked empty - and his wind-bitten cheeks matched the rim of his eyes, that were watering from the chill in the air. A bag of Christmas presents by his feet and an envelope tucked into his pocket, sticking out from beneath the wool-polyester flat, topped with a black button. A smile on his chapped lips.

“Hi, mum.”

“Hi, sweetheart,” YN crooned, wrapping her arms around her son’s shoulders and welcoming him into the warmest hug she could muster up. To keep him warm from the bitterness of the December air, the winter bite already nipping at the exposed skin showing from the hems of her tweed trousers and tingling her hands, fresh and clean after spending hours preparing a dinner at the kitchen counter and having stripped vegetables from their skin and chopped potatoes up for her signature mashed potato dish. Her apron still tied around her middle and a knot was situated at the base of her neck, just beneath the messy bun that she had pulled her hair back into. “Oh, darling, it’s so good to have you home.”

“It’s good to be home. Love being up Manchester but it’s lovely to back here with everyone. It’s not as lonely,” he hummed with delight and melted into the soft hug from his mother’s arms. Chin resting upon her shoulder as he took a deep inhale of the smells filling the house, beanie loosening from the tight grip it had upon his head and showing the tops of his ears, curls slipping out from underneath the folded brim and his fringe flopped loose. Meat cooking, which he guessed were mince to be mixed with whatever else they were having to eat, and the smell of steaming vegetables wafted through the door. “It smells good in here. Shepherds pie?”

“Shepherds pie,” she confirmed, pressing a kiss to his wind-bitten cheek before pulling away, bumping the front door closed with her heel and letting it shut with a band, “how are you doing? Me and your dad were going to pop up to Manchester to go see your Nana Anne, the other day, but he was hit with the flu so we had to postpone it. He’s been upstairs for the last two days trying to get better,” she snorted, helping him take his coat off and hanging it on a hanger so he could kick off his boots and set them underneath the porch table. “Gemma travelled up there to pick her up so she can spend Christmas down here with all of us. It wasn’t fair to let her come down alone,” she said, leading the way through to the kitchen and flicking the kettle on as she passed by, “what time is Ellie due here?”

“I said six but she’ll probably be through soon. I’ve only just got off the phone with her,” he smiled. He snagged a raw carrot from the colander in the sink before hopping upon an empty space of the counter, his cheeks tingling from how warm it was and his fingers gaining their senses back as they wiggled under the heat of the atmosphere. A crunch coming from between his teeth as he bit down and chewed. “Her parents are still good to come for Christmas Day, right?”

“Of course! Me and Joan have been planning away on who’s doing what,” YN laughed, wiping down the surface with the sleeve of her jumper.

For the last six years, she’d been inseparable with Ellie’s mother and had always had a story to share about what they got up to when ever they went out and about together. If they went to a coffee house, Joan had always ordered one of each cake because she could never decide what to eat with her latte. If they went shopping, YN had always done something clumsy and silly that people ended up staring at them, which only caused Harry to perk up with a rebuttle of how she had always been clumsy - their first meeting being the basis of where his retort came about. If they went to the cinema, Joan had always ‘almost’ dropped the popcorn and YN had always ‘almost’ spilt her drink. At first, the two teenagers thought it was the worst idea - their parents becoming best friends? What would happen if they split up and had come to a brutal end? A friendship would have been over and they would have felt the guilt. But as the years went by and they realised they were strongly compatible and had a bright future ahead of them,

“We’ve got Jack coming for Christmas, too. I think he said that his parents were away on a trip around the holidays so he and Seff are coming up from Southampton together in a few days.”

Silence fills the room and YN rather enjoys it.

It wasn’t a silence that sounded eerily quiet and made anyone crave for noise; it was a silence that felt full because her little boy, her only boy, was home from university, home from living so far up north, and taking up his space in the house. It wasn’t anyone else’s to have. Irreplaceable. A space that had been left behind when he had packed up his belongings and had gone to stay in a dorm up in Manchester. A silence that the twins couldn’t fill, that Persephone couldn’t fill when she popped up for a night or two, that Gemma couldn’t quite fill when she popped through for a cup of coffee, that Harry couldn’t fill with... no matter how hard they tried, nothing seemed to feel right without Alfie.

She stood on her tiptoes and reached for three mugs of tea; one for her, one for Alfie and one for Harry because the floorboards were creaking upstairs so she knew he was walking around and dressing in something a little warmer to keep himself nice and cosy. The occasional sniffle and chesty cough echoing through the ceiling. To Alfie, he sounded rough but it was an improvement, so to speak. The china clinked as she set the mugs down on the counter, the kettle still whistling on its own as it boiled enough water to fill up three mugs, and she busied herself by gathering the carton of milk from the fridge and the sugar-pot from the middle of the kitchen island since Harry had left it there after sprinkling some upon his porridge that morning. 

“Alfie-”

Alfie couldn’t help but dryly roll his eyes because she was speaking in that tone again. 

The tone that screamed worrisome and concerning... and she had every right to be worried and concerned, and a little sad and upset, too. Because her son and his girlfriend had gone through something so terrifying, that not many teenagers would have to experience, at seventeen years old. A miscarriage was tough on anybody who had ever gone through that trauma but for a young boy and his girlfriend? Who had barely hit adulthood? Who weren’t quite independent and still depended on their parents to help? Who were so far apart from each other because of university? 

He didn’t have the time to grieve properly and YN knew that, he didn’t have the time to cry properly and YN knew that and he didn’t have the time to take in what exactly had and was happening and YN knew that. 

“Mum, I’m fine. Honestly,” he interrupted, half of a bitten carrot rolling between his fingers before he slipped it between his lips and chewed upon the orange vegetable. Eyes staring at the ground as he swung his feet, back in and back out, heels tapping the cupboard door beneath him. “Me and Ellie, we’re doing okay. At least, I think she’s doing okay. We’re not back to normal but, we’re doing okay.”

“Joan said that Ellie took it harder than she had expected. Said that her strong little girl was someone who looked like she had the world taken away from her,” she frowned, spooning two spoonfuls of sugar into the three mugs, upon the teabags that were set at the bottom, “it’s a whole kind of different upset when you go through something as traumatic as a miscarriage. It’s not like you lost a piece of jewellery or a shoe or your mobile phone. You lost a baby and it’s a huge thing to get your head around, as it is, but to lose what you were so excited for, it chips away at your walls,” YN sighed softly, spoon tinkling in Harry’s mug as she left it behind and walked across the stretch of empty space, leaning up to hug him. Her arms winding around his neck and he ducked down to hold her tightly, his face pushing into her collarbone, sighing heavily, “when you told us, god, me and your father didn’t know what to do. We felt angry because it was such a reckless move for you both but we felt happy and excited for you because babies are so amazing and they make you feel so great and you second-guess yourself but we felt so scared for you and for Ellie. Your futures would have been jeopardized.”

“We would have made it work, Mum,” Alfie informed her, pulling away and looking down. Her eyes holding a look of disbelief as he smiled warmly, “we would have, Mum. I would have given up everything to make sure Ellie had someone by her side. To know she was happy and looked after.”

“We raised you right, didn’t we, huh? You are your father’s little boy, to a T,” she sighed and pinched his chin with her fingers and thumb, holding his jaw with her palm. From the green eyes and curly hair to his gorgeous personality and stealthy height, no matter whether they were close or strangers, anyone would comment on just how alike Harry and his son were. How Alfie resembled the good guy that Harry had always proved himself to be; how he stood out in a crowd and how he lit up an empty room from just his laughter and his smiling face; how he was so kind and charming and respectful to everyone he came across, no matter how he was being treated. Anne had said it, Gemma had said it and YN had said it - “the world needs more Harry’s living upon it” and Alfie was one of the minimal number of blokes that could be categorised under that. “Everything we ever wished you would be, you are, and we’re so proud of you, Alf. We’re proud of all of you kids. You make us feel so lucky, every single day, to be your mum and dad.”

“Would I have been a good dad, Mum?”

YN’s face fell. Her palms cupping his cheeks and stroking under his eyes, wiping the moisture away, with her thumbs.

“If you’re anything like your father in that aspect, you will be an exceptional dad, sweetheart. The best father to your little ones,” she pressed a kiss to his cheek and swiped her thumb beneath his eye, “you’ll do just fine, I promise. You might have you dad’s charm and his witty behaviour but you’ve got my brains. All you kids have-”

“Heeeey,” Harry whined from the entryway, a rasp in his throat and a sniffle sounding around the room, “I’m smart, as well. Would like to think I have input in your brains, somewhere along the way.”

“Of course,” YN grinned, turning back to her son and winking, “dad’s pretty smart, too.”

*

There was something different about being back in London...

His family and his girlfriend and his best friends were there, for starters. The scenery was different in London than it was in Manchester; from the journey down, it changed from a city centre to plentiful countrysides before changing to a busy city centre that seemed much busier than where his temporary location had been. In an Uber on the way home, there were more streets than he had remembered driving down. From the balcony in m his parents’ bedroom, he could see street lamps that lined streets that were miles away in the distance and the town of Hampstead that was just a short walk down the road, to the left.  

But there was a homely feel that hit him when he walked through the door. The feeling that was missing when he left London town.

“Here you are.”

Alfie lookee over his shoulder and took in the look of his bleary-eyed girlfriend, with two glasses of mulled wine in her hands, a warm smile on her lips.

“Wondered where you were. Said you went for a wee but never came back. Your dad thought you’d fallen in the loo,” she giggled, walking over to him and stretching an arm out, offering a glass of mulled wine to him, “are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m just thinking about things. Uni, bow this year went, you and me, our holiday next year,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead and taking the glass from her, “do you ever think about what life would have been like if-”

“If I never miscarried?”

Him falling silent was all Ellie needed to know that that was exactly how his sentence ended.

“I don’t know,” she murmured, taking a seat at the table and setting her glass down and gripping the lapel of her jacket, tightening the garment around her shoulders, “we wouldn’t be going on a holiday next year,” she smiled quickly before looking down at her lap and twiddling her thumbs, “we would have had a baby, Alf. Our own little bub. Our life would be so, so different and- and I wish they weren’t taken away from us.”

“It was cruel,” he muttered, leaning on the balcony and dragging his fingertip around the brim of his glass, “it wasn’t fair, El. Our baby, they were taken away from us so unfairly. So horribly. We never got the chance to see them or hold them, got to see who they looked like the most. We never got to become parents,” his voice sounded wet, eyes glistening under the light that came from the patio beneath them, “they gave us a baby and then they took them.”

“Oh, Alf.”

“Ellie, we were going to be a mum and dad,” he laughed bitterly. She stood from her seat, forgetting about her glass, and wrapped him in a warm hug, ducking her face into the warmth of his neck. Inhaling a deep breath, smelling the musky scent of his cologne before exhaling a deep sigh. Her arms tight around his middle as he squeezed her with one arm; his other making sure that his glass didn’t spill down her back. “I miss them.”

“I miss them, too,” she whispered, straining away and looking up, kissing his chin softly, “but there will be a better time. A better place to have a baby, yeah?” He nodded softly and pressed a kiss to her nose, “we’ll try again when the time is right, baby. We will.”