#my sweater dress looks like a damn blanket & I look a mess but whatever

[bi0mass]

Cozy with the Void. He likes resting his foot on the neck pillow every time.

[obeymeluv]

You Steal the Boys’ Clothes

Something I’ve been thinking of for a while.

Lucifer

It was rare the eldest was without his cape, as everything seemed to be a formal event and he must be dressed to impress. Being dressed to impress, however, means being clean so he gets it cleaned from time to time

Lucifer is a very organized, practical man. Constantly towing the line of obsessive for the sake of orderliness.

He knows where his cape should be, and that it’s not there

With a demon’s-only screech that warns Mammon to stretch his calves and run, Lucifer hunts down the three most likely suspects to interrogate them (Mammon, Satan, and Belphegor).

He tries to get a two-for-one by dragging Mammon into the study where Satan sits smugly with a book (because he knows he didn’t do it but MAN is he enjoying this!)

Imagine surprising not one, but THREE demons when you come shuffling down the hall with a Lucifer’s cape wrapped around you like a blanket.

It whispers and it drags and it absolutely DROWNS you.

Very charming. Ethereal, almost like some sort of wedding wear

Lucifer would’ve never imagined you’d be the culprit, and now his poor brain is trying to save and process the idea of you looking so sleepy-happy in his clothes

And the ex-angel falls all over again.

He catches the little cheek nuzzle and way you bunch it around your body, a foot poking out not to get tangled

Satan and Mammon will probably die laughing instead of at his hands, but Lucifer could really care less

Lucifer idly wonders where you’d curled up that he totally missed you, and escorts you gently but red-faced to your room

Satan and Mammon tag along, and when they see Lucifer come out with his cape they can only deduce he put you to bed.

Mammon

With no homework to do and some money in the bank, Mammon was ready to spend the weekend tearing up the town with you!

He was fresh out of the shower and mostly dressed, searching feverishly for his beloved white and brown jacket

Mammon wasn’t the cleanest person by nature (hello, money hoarder and collector of interesting/valuable things) so he tidied up as he went

As he started to suspect one of his little brothers was holding the jacket for ransom, he sent out a group text asking about it

There were several typical smart-ass responses (Lucifer, Asmo, and Satan) and he was in the middle of a snark fight when you showed up at his door somewhere between bashful and chill

In HIS jacket

Mammon’s brain shuts down.

HIS baby in HIS jacket? HELL YEAH! OH GOD, IT’S TOO PERFECT!

FIEND, TAKING HIS HEART!

“It’s kind of a human thing,” you explain. “There is a one-jacket fee among couples. Usually it’s a hoodie.” you tease, reluctant to shrug it off, “But this seems to be your only jacket so I guess I could give it back.”

It’s very subtle, but he’s worn that jacket for centuries and no amount of detergent can disguise the scent that makes his heart skip a beat

Something about the smell of your skin and a hint of his has him purring

You hold the jacket out to him. Mammon wraps his fingers around it and swings it around until he’s holding it over one shoulder

The yellow takes over in his eyes a little more. Gets a little brighter and intense.

“You want to take anything else off?” he husks playfully

Your day out turns into staying in and Mammon is happy to trade his jacket for a shirt you can sleep in (like, forever. It’s fine. Whatever, dummy.)

Leviathan

It was actually really hard to steal Levi’s clothes because he lived in his hoodie and turtleneck. His RAD uniform was really just for show and that wasn’t what you were looking for, anyways. You didn’t want to chill in uniform.

He was very particular about his merch because certain shirts were collector’s items and he didn’t like people messing with his folding patterns

You went to Asmo with your dilemma and he found it absolutely ADORABLE. It was almost enough to make him jealous, really

Somehow (Asmo being Asmo?), the fifth- born was able to swipe one of the green button-ups Levi wore under his RAD uniform

His first thought was to alter the garment to make it fit you (matching outfits? YES!) but Levi would probably kill him. His big bro hated shopping for clothes unless he HAD to have them.

Asmo gets the bright idea to magically/temporarily alter the fabric to fit you. Maybe Levi will like it so much he’ll just give you a shirt! 💖 (Or get some fucking outside time and go buy more shirts!)

Levi catches his own scent somewhere outside of the door and his brain goes off. He hits the pause button at lightning speed.

No one else smells like him! They haven’t shared bath products in centuries! He already finished his laundry so what’s happening?!

His first thought is: Mammon broke into my room while I was in the bathroom and stole something to pawn!

Levi doesn’t even think to take inventory of his stuff, barging out of his room to hunt down his big brother

He’s yelling and whining before he even sees him. Then he sees you. In his shirt.

All the angry words die in his throat as the absolute mortification and adoration sets his face on fire

SO KAWAII! It basically makes up for your normie-ness.

Levi’s stuck standing there, blushing his head off and unable to say anything as his fists shake with joy and nervousness

He gets a nosebleed. One of his brothers are laughing at him.

You guide him back to his room to take care of him, Levi lets you and becomes very fascinated with the idea of you in his clothes .Lots of petting and figuring out you look DOUBLY MEGA CUTE when the magic wears off and you’re just in a pool of fabric.

He’s totally down for matching clothes and definitely lets you keep the one you’re wearing.

Satan

His wardrobe is very...interesting...to say the least

Colors and personal combinations aside, Satan actually has a very smart wardrobe. Lots of basics and easy layers.

You can’t steal his signature green sweater or the blazer he seems to live in, so you settle for an emerald knit sweater that has a bit of a v-neck/university feel to it

It takes Satan a while to notice, as he’s buried in a book. You two tend to gravitate towards each other and just enjoy a cozy, companionable silence

He’s just finished a book and is debating cracking open one from the stack to his left when the color catches his eye

The smooth, sly comment dies on his lips when he realizes he likes the damn thing because IT’S HIS

You look very cozy and warm. It’s a very ‘cuddle me’ kind of look.

Perhaps you could warm his lap? Or give his poor hands a rest under the hem?

Very cheeky and clever. Grabs you by the sleeve of it just to ‘answer his curiosity about whether it matched his nails’.

Does he have a cute university student kink? If he didn’t, he does now?

There’s a 50-50 chance of you guys having sex.

Will definitely want to hold you and cuddle you close, petting the fabric and whispering compliments into it.

If you don’t already have a business/academic attire, Satan will definitely suggest a few pieces because YES. This is a thing he loves and it DOES things to him.

Asmodeus

He’s the type to let you think you stole something

Probably stages what he wants you to steal just so you take it

Honestly, I could just see him dumping some of his clothes on you because you’re dating now and this is a cute thing he read about!

It’s super likely he’s into couple outfits or coordinating outfits, so he’s either spent time in his closet pre-planning or asked you to try on a million things just because

This cutie pie purposely orders THE BIGGEST thing he can find so you can both fit in it at the same time

Asmo loves you to pieces no matter what, but seeing you in his clothes makes him squeal and hit a note Mammon has threatened to murder him over

Ever dramatic, this is like, THE BEST THING EVER

A MILLION Devilgram posts about it (safe ones, of course)

Do you guys spark a couple’s trend and spade of lover’s stealing each other’s clothes to snap a victory pic? Maybe

Probably fake faints at the sheer glory of you in HIS bomb ass clothes. Definitely fans himself

Spoils you rotten with compliments

This man is weak. “Gorgeous! Smother me.” as he falls back on the bed and gestures to his face

He won’t turn down the idea of sexy times (depends on your libido, comfort, etc.) but sometimes he makes raunchy jokes just to be funny. Smothering could also mean using him like a body pillow (which he’s totally okay with).

You get max cuddles and WILL be the envy of Devilgram

Beelzebub

Beel felt a little guilty for leaving you at the House of Lamentation with his brothers

You guys were supposed to hang out after school but there was an emergency practice. The coach always got pre-game jitters and demanded a few last runs. He showered and ran back to the House, hoping you still had time for him.

He tiptoed quietly into his shared room, unsurprised to find you waiting there for him. You’d been caught in Belphie’s sleepy little aura by the looks of it,

Beelzebub couldn’t help the grin or little hum that made it past his lips. Your eyes were open but he didn’t know if you actually saw him. You looked super cute in his humongous bed though

You were getting sleepier and sleepier, your eyelids getting heavier and heavier. Beel pulled the sheets over you and gentle untangled the arm you managed to latch on to

Maybe waking up to a bit of food would make up for everything! Beel toiled away in the kitchen, making a cute little snack tray for the two of you.

In reality, it could probably feed at least twenty, and he ate at least half of what he prepped.

Beel returned to the room with what he considered a decent amount (scraps, kind of, but enough variety! He tried! It’s the thought that counts!) and was surprised to see his sheets all tangled and half-kicked from the bed

You were wearing his jacket now, passed out and turned into the furry lining that usually went across his shoulders and neck

DId you sleep walk? He was trying to understand how you’d gotten into his jacket

Beel realized it was the first time you’d been in his clothes and it was enough to make his heart melt

Super huge on you, obviously (extra fabric everywhere), but so cute! He could basically swaddle you in his jacket

“They’re a restless sleeper,” Belphie yawned. “I thought it would help them calm down.”

It used to work on Belphie, so Beel could see why he resorted to it

Beel offered his twin some food, sitting carefully on your other side.

He shifted some of the parka fur away from your face, trying to fix your hair and nudge your chin up so your nose wasn’t buried in anything. He stroked your cheek a little, mesmerized by the sight of you and how you felt.

Belphie declined, muttering something about, ‘Stop looking like that and eat your food! Gross!’ before Beel settled for patting your head one last time and eating quietly

Belphegor

He’s another one that’s hard to steal from

You’d think it’d be easy since he sleeps all the time, but Belphie really only wears 10% of the clothes he buys

Yes, he’s a pajama snob and has all things comfy and cozy, but hardly any of them smell like him because he falls asleep anywhere with little issue (no special clothes required!)

You thought about stealing his blue cardigan with the pocket, but he’s always sleeping in it!

Belphie picks up on your train of thought, and the frustration, because you fall asleep thinking about it. Dreaming about coyly stealing his cardigan and being all cute and snuggly in bed

It’s enough to wake him up, shuffle to you, and break your sleep. He flops down on your bed with his cardigan unbuttoned and says ‘climb on’ while patting his chest

You’re obviously sleepy and confused and he loves it. Belphie slides you onto his chest and wraps his arms around you, resting bits of the fabric on your back as you settle into him

It’s not the same but it’s close enough

Would you be offended if he got you cow pajamas so he could snuggle you like his favorite pillow? He falls asleep wondering about the answer

He wakes up to see that Beel has covered the two of you with his favorite blanket.

You in his blanket? Against him? Slowly smelling of him and his clothes? It’s the best thing to fall asleep to.

Makes a joke out of your clothes-stealing quest by stripping one of his pillowcases off and putting you in it like a little sack. You have to stay on his bed now because you’re his pillow and all pillows stay on the bed.

“What? You wanted to smell like me! It’s something I use!“ Belphie defends as you wonder whether or not you like this human pillow thing while he snuggles you.

[ober-affen-geil]

Since I, a Damn Yankee, am currently sitting in a southern state freezing my toes off (and this is NOT THE FIRST polar vortex nor will it be the last) I thought I would share some cold weather tips for y’all as someone born and raised in snowy places. Please share or add as you see fit.

- Dress. In Layers. They are the key to success. I’m talking undershirt, shirt, cardigan/sweater, knee socks, ankle socks, leggings, pants, scarf, jacket, hat, thin pair of gloves, thick pair of gloves, WHATEVER YOU NEED. Wear it all at once. Trust me. Layers. 

- Black ice. It’s a super shitty type of ice that is basically totally clear and as a result almost completely invisible. You will not see it unless you are really looking for it. You will slip on it just as easily. Watch out.

- Touching a Very Cold Thing with bare skin, especially if it’s metal, is a Bad Idea. Even if your skin is dry, there is a very real possibility you will stick to it. This is why you need gloves. If you do, for some reason, touch a Cold Thing and you stick to it, DO NOT YANK. EXHALE on the stuck thing (don’t blow, exhale, the key is warmth) until it comes unstuck. If you need to, spit or drool on the thing (DO NOT LICK, this will leave your tongue stuck too) until it comes off. This technique will work with frozen locks as well.

- Learn the difference between between “cold fingers” and the beginnings of frostbite. Redness is good, even if they are feeling numb. It means you still have circulation. You should should be trying to warm them up though. If they start turning white and waxy it is Bad and you need to get them warm ASAP. Get inside and soak them in water (LUKEWARM, NOT HOT, YOU WILL BURN YOURSELF) at the soonest possible time. The circulation returning will HURT. Do not let it get to that point. 

- Wear sturdy and/or water resistant boots outside in the snow. Remember, snow is just frozen water and when it starts to warm up it will be wet.

- When you’re clearing your car off (get an ice scraper and a snow brush if you can, trust me) the FIRST THING you should do is get in your car and turn the heat on full blast. Turn on the rear window heater and turn the windshield blower (the thing you use if it starts fogging up) on FULL. Then go out to clear the car. Not only will the car be toasty when you get in to drive, but it will heat the windows from the inside and it will make the ice scraping SO MUCH EASIER. It helps if you give yourself an extra 5-10 minutes in the morning to clear as well. (also DO NOT throw hot water on your car to get ice off, this will CRACK YOUR WINDSHIELD. GET A DAMN ICE SCRAPER.)

- If you are doing a physical activity in the snow (skiing, snowshoeing, snowboarding, shoveling, anything) recognize that the activity will warm you up and be prepared to shed layers. If you start sweating, cool yourself down. If your clothing becomes sweatsoaked, it will be wet and therefore become cold. Wet, cold clothing will not keep you warm. This is a Bad Thing. Often just opening your coat will help.

- It is possible for it to be too cold to snow. Bright, sunny, clear days are often THE COLDEST ONES in the winter. Cloud coverage, especially at night, acts like a blanket that keeps the heat in. If there are no clouds, there is less heat. Also, you will use your sunglasses in the winter. Snow blindness, being physically “dazzled” by bright sunlight reflecting off of fresh snow, is a thing. Do not trust sunny days. You can and will get sunburned.

- Remember to cover your ears. It’s a thing most people don’t think about but your ears are one of the first things to get cold if exposed, along with your fingers and nose. If you don’t want to wear a hat because it will mess up your hair, get an earband or ear muffs.

- If you have a shovel, clear your sidewalk. Packed snow will basically become ice, it is not safe. Put down salt if you have it too. Note, the warmer it is when snowing the wetter the snow will be and the heavier it is. Don’t throw your back out shoveling because you tried to lift a shovelful that was too heavy, be smart. (The wet snow is good packing snow though, that’s the kind for snowballs and snowmen.) 

- When driving in the snow, do not panic. A light to medium snow is like driving in a heavy rain except you can see better. DO NOT drive faster than you are comfortable going. Turn on your hazards if you need to. Trust your gut, you can FEEL when your car is losing traction. If you start to skid, steer INTO it. Take corners slower than you would normally, and start braking for intersections WAY before you normally would. Drive in the tracks of the car in front of you, get your tires as close as possible to direct contact with the pavement. DO NOT. I REPEAT, DO NOT, drive in ice. No one can drive in ice. Don’t fucking do it. Carry kitty litter in your trunk, if you get stuck, put it under your back tires for traction. If you are stuck stuck, DO NOT LEAVE YOUR CAR. Wait for help. Keep peanut butter or pretzels or other non-perishables in your car to eat in emergencies. Only go out if you absolutely have to.

- If the power goes out in your house, pick ONE ROOM and hole up in there. Pile on blankets and use any non-electronic heat source. Try to make it a room with no outside walls. It will be easier to keep that room warm enough to be tolerable.

- It will be dry. Chapsticks and moisturizers are your friends. Watch out for nosebleeds.

[elsanna-shenanigans]

June Contest Submission #8: A Real Howler in July

Words: ca. 5,500

Setting: modern AU

Lemon: no

CW: none

Was there anything worse than inclement weather?

Anna didn’t think so.

Not at this very moment anyway, buried nearly up to the waist in snow as she was. She hefted her ski pole out of the drift behind her with a grunt and plunged it haphazardly into the snow ahead of her. The screaming winds cut through her hard shell jacket like it was made of tissue paper and Anna’s body locked up while trying to shiver violently at the same time. Slush had gotten into the boots a size too big for her, squelching against her socks in an icy, soggy mess. The forest of dark pines offered scant protection against the swirling flurries that obscured her vision in a confetti of white. 

Snow, in July.

That was supposed to be a joke, just something people said— not a real thing. Wasn’t it? Anna was just grateful she’d chanced upon that bizarre store in the middle of the woods, otherwise she’d be doing this in jean shorts and a tank top. 

Oaken’s Trading Post (and Sauna)— that’s what the sign had said. It looked like any other cabin, but inside was a shop, sure enough. Anna had been greeted by a large man behind the counter in a thick wool sweater, suspenders, and an impressive mutton chop-mustache combo. This was the titular Oaken. 

The big, tall Norwegian in the loud sweater had given her a funny look when Anna explained why she was there and who she’d rented her cabin from. “Kristoff did not say anything when you booked those dates?” 

Wait, he knew this would happen?! What the hell!

Anna shook her head, failing to repress a full-body shiver as the heat of the shop started to thaw her out. Oaken clucked his tongue. “I swear, that boy. If it is not ice he is very clueless. I told him, ja? I told him he should not put his place on the line for strangers to use.”

Anna pressed her lips together, fighting a smile at the term “on the line”. She eyed the brick of a monitor behind the register that looked like it might be a gateway computer, and wondered if he still had dial-up. Or internet, period. 

Oaken caught her looking and shook his head. “No service up here now, phone or computer.” 

“I don’t suppose you’ve got any winter appropriate clothing here?”

Oaken gave her a wry look and gestured to the back of the shop. Their “winter” selection looked very sad indeed. “Not many tourists come to the mountain. Even those in the town stay away in July,” he said as Anna surveyed her options in disappointment. 

Well, fine. It wasn’t ideal, but Anna wasn’t about to give up. She slapped her wallet down on the counter. “Whatever you got? I’ll take it.” 

The sum total of what Oaken had was a bright fuchsia hard shell jacket, boots in a size 9 (she was a size 8), blue ski pants, gloves, a wool hat, and five pairs of long underwear. She took it all. 

Anna looked longingly at the sauna as he was ringing her up, but she couldn’t risk losing daylight. She settled for taking some extra time in the toasty changing room, putting on three pairs of long underwear (she couldn’t get the last two on without going up a size), and every other article of clothing that would fit under her new jacket. Everything else was shoved into her backpack. 

Oaken kindly lent her his own ski poles, the caveat being that she return them on her way back. 

Anna stood on the deck, looking out at the frozen landscape. She didn’t have much experience with this kind of weather, but that wasn’t going to stop her. One thing Anna wasn’t, was a quitter. She was going to find this damn cabin if it was the last thing she did.

What started as heavy snowfall soon escalated into a full blizzard. Anna kept herself going by composing a strongly worded review for Kristoff’s Airbnb in her head, one that got more acerbic with each step.

So. Here she was: three hours from Oaken’s, slush in her boots, pushing her way forward by kicking through the drift she’d sunk down. Anna could practically feel the blood freezing in her veins, suffocating the vital warmth that kept her functioning. She’d been seeing the markers Kristoff said would be there, but each one was taking longer to find.   

Anna unstuck her foot from the snow and took a giant step, pitching forward heavily. That was a mistake. The drift crumbled beneath her and she went down, tumbling head over heels through a sloping copse of trees until she rolled to a stop in a small clearing. Face first, of course. 

Weakly she pushed herself up, casting about for the ski poles. They had landed close by, and as she fumbled for them something caught her eye: a warm contrast against the frigid, grey landscape. There, at the edge of the clearing, was an honest to god cabin, with smoke puffing from the chimney and brightly lit windows shining like a beacon against the dark. 

She’d made it. 

Anna stumbled towards it, the tantalizing promise of warmth so close it made her whole body ache. The wind surged around her the closer she got, forcing Anna to swerve into it just to stay upright. She struggled up the stairs; leaning heavily on her poles. Leveraging herself onto the porch, she shuffled to the door, practically collapsing against it.  

It was locked. No key under the mat where there should’ve been. Seriously? Anna let the ski pole dangle from her wrist as she raised her fist and brought it down heavily on the door. “Is anyone in there?” She called out. “Please I just need to get out of the storm!”

She couldn’t hear anything over the wind and no one came to the door. 

Anna knocked again. 

Nothing. 

Anna continued knocking, and the blizzard grew stronger, as if it took personal offense to her presence. 

There had to be someone in there— Anna was pounding on the door now. “Please open up! I promise I’m not a murderer or anything!” She winced. Great sell Anna, that definitely won’t creep them out, because real murderers never say that. “Please, I’m supposed to be staying in Kristoff’s cabin and this is the only one around, and I’m really going to freeze out here if you don’t—”

The door swung open and Anna almost toppled to the floor. She grabbed for her ski pole and braced it against the deck. A waft of warm air curled around her exposed face and Anna looked up to see who had come to the door. 

Woah.

Okay so a model was using the cabin. Cool. Neat. 

The woman who stood there looked like the poster child for Nordic beauty, with long, braided platinum hair and shocking blue eyes. She was dressed surprisingly light (or so Anna thought) in an oversized, cable knit sweater and black leggings, no socks. Anna guessed she was about her age, maybe a little older—possibly mid to late twenties. 

The wind gave another disembodied wail, and Anna gestured inside. “Um, can I…?” 

The woman stared at her, but after a beat stepped aside silently to allow her in. 

Anna breathed a thank you as she trekked inside, basking with unspeakable relief in the heat and abrupt stillness from the absence of raging wind and snow. She turned around to find the other woman watching her from the door, leaning her back against it with one hand clasped around the knob. “So…who are you?”

“I believe I should be the one asking you that.”

The woman had a point, though Anna still wasn’t entirely sure whether or not this was the cabin she’d rented from Kristoff, and maybe he’d double booked it or something. She wouldn’t put it past him.  

“Sorry— yeah, I’m Anna.” She gave her a big smile, but her companion remained poker-faced. “I rented a cabin from a guy named Kristoff Bjorgman, on Airbnb? He, uh, never mentioned I should expect snow, which seems like a pretty big oversight, all things considered.” She looked pointedly out the window. 

The woman closed her eyes at that and sighed. 

“I take it you know him?”

“Yes.” 

“So…is this not his cabin then?”

“It is not.” 

“Okay…” 

The woman gave Anna a wide berth as she moved away from the door to the nearest window, peering out at the squall. 

“You shouldn’t… you shouldn’t be here.” 

“Well, yeah, of course I shouldn’t. I should be in my own cabin, the one I rented,” Anna said lightly, watching her reluctant hostess wring her hands. She seemed unduly nervous, even allowing that she’d been intruded upon by a stranger in the middle of nowhere. 

“Could I…? I mean,” Anna let out a nervous little laugh, “you’re not going to make me go out in that and try to find my way in the dark right?” 

She looked at Anna as if seeing her for the first time. The wind screamed, rattling the windows in their frames. “No… of course not.” She swallowed visibly. “I’ll…,” she gazed around the cabin as if it were the first time she was seeing that too, like Anna’s presence had thrown her whole life out of orbit and everything she knew was now foreign. 

She took Anna in from head to toe— in all of her frozen, slowly melting glory. A trickle of thawed snow slipped down the back of Anna’s neck and she shuddered. 

“You need to get warm,”she said gravely. 

“Yes please,” Anna exhaled gratefully. “Um, sorry I still don’t know your name.” 

“My name is Elsa.” She gestured over her shoulder. “I’ll run you a bath. You can leave your boots and jacket by the door.” With that, she was off down a hallway and out of sight. 

“Thank you!” Anna called after her, quickly shedding her outer layers. Well, this wasn’t the worst development in the world. 

Anna let out a dreamy sigh and sank lower in the tub. Steam drifted in lazy tendrils from the surface of the water and her eyelids were getting heavy. Before she fell asleep, Anna dragged herself from the bath and stuffed herself into her last two pairs of long thermal underwear. Elsa had graciously provided her a cable knit sweater and fleece joggers. 

She came out of the bathroom and wandered into the living room just as Elsa finished tucking a sheet into the couch. She stacked an enormous pile of blankets on the cushions. “I would give you the bed, but I think you need the fire more. Hopefully it’s comfortable enough.” She looked up and stopped at the sight of Anna. 

Anna ran a hand through her damp hair, suddenly nervous under Elsa’s attention. “I know, I look a little different when I’m not rocking the half-frozen rat look.”

Elsa’s lips curled faintly. “It’s not a bad different. And you’re not the worst half-frozen specimen I’ve seen.” 

Anna chuckled. “Glad to hear it.” She collapsed onto the couch, sinking into the nest of blankets. Her body was utterly exhausted, but the physical exertion coupled with the muscle memory of getting warm after so much cold left her tingling pleasantly down to her bones. “Oh that’s nice.”

“There’s some hot chocolate, if you’d like.” Elsa indicated the steaming mug on the coffee table. 

Anna almost lunged for it. She took a careful sip, and burned her tongue anyway. “Oh, you’re an angel.” For being so reticent to let Anna stay, Elsa was incredibly hospitable. 

“I’ll leave you to it,” Elsa said. She turned to go but hesitated. “He really put his cabin on Airbnb?”

“Mhmm,” Anna hummed the affirmative as she took another gulp, watching Elsa’s face. 

Elsa shook her head and murmured something that sounded like he should know better. “Perhaps he confused the dates.”

Again with the dates. It was starting to give her an inkling, like she’d wandered into an episode of the twilight zone. Her host was half way out of the room when Anna popped her head over the back of the couch. “Elsa?”

She turned back. “Yes?” 

“Thank you, seriously. If I hadn’t found your cabin and you hadn’t let me in… I don’t know what would have happened.”

A look Anna couldn’t interpret passed over Elsa’s face. She nodded once. “Goodnight Anna. Sleep well.”

“Night,” Anna said to Elsa’s retreating back.

*

Elsa barely slept, too anxious and distressed by the foreign presence in her living room. There shouldn’t be anyone on this mountain right now, let alone someone a handful of meters away in her cabin. The night of tossing and turning, of pacing, had only made it worse and she was completely unsurprised, yet bitterly disappointed the next morning when she came into the kitchen and found the window half obstructed by snow. There was nothing she could do at this point to mitigate the storm. 

They were trapped. 

Elsa had no idea if Anna could survive the cold that was coming.

One coffee later Anna stumbled in, tousled and groggy. Elsa set a fresh filter in the carafe. “Good morning.” 

“Is it?” Anna mumbled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She’d draped herself in a blanket, only her face peaking out. The effect was quite endearing, a little childlike, and Elsa reminded herself sharply that Anna was still a stranger, and her situation could soon be perilous. 

“Well, you didn’t murder me in my sleep, so I think it could be worse.”

Anna cocked her head in confusion. 

“You shouted yesterday while you were trying to knock my door down that you were not ‘a murderer or anything’,” Elsa clarified, pouring a steaming kettle over the coffee grounds. 

Anna laughed sheepishly. “You heard that huh?” 

Elsa allowed herself a small smile. “I did.” 

“Well it’s true, I’m not.” She grinned, but it slipped off her face when she saw the window. “Oh my god, all that is from last night?” 

Elsa clenched her jaw as Anna moved closer to it, gaping out over the white barricade to the sky furiously hurling snow. “Still coming down too…”

“Yes,” Elsa said tightly, pouring muesli into two bowls. “We won’t be able to leave the cabin until the storm is over.”

Anna sighed and sat down heavily in her chair. “There goes my deposit.”

*

After breakfast they gravitated towards separate activities. Anna returned to the nest of blankets on the couch and checked her phone, which was dwindling at 5% battery. When she asked about charging it Elsa informed her there was no electricity; the cabin was only equipped with a propane tank to heat the water, and power the stove and the fridge. 

They were roughing it…sort of. 

Elsa checked the cabin meticulously, fixing blankets over the windows for insulation, cataloguing her supplies, and lighting candles on practically every available surface. 

It was quite cozy, and Anna was happy to doze intermittently while her body recovered from lingering jet lag and her frozen hike. 

Conversation between them was sparse, but Anna put it down to Elsa’s clear anxiety over the state of things and decided not to take it personally. 

—

Anna shuffled into the kitchen the next morning, wrapping Elsa’s thick wool cardigan across her chest, over the borrowed sweater. She stopped. 

“Weren’t there five chairs here yesterday?”

“Hmm?” Elsa murmured absently while layering peppered salami on a tray next to a neat row of jarlsburg slices. Anna noticed she made sure to put the pickled herring with dill in a separate bowl; it turned out Anna was not a fan. 

“The chairs,” Anna pointed to the empty side of the table. “Are we …missing some?” 

Elsa glanced up at the breakfast nook as she plated a handful of rye slices. She turned to check on the potatoes boiling on the stove, brushing her hands on her apron. “I’m using them elsewhere.”

Anna shrugged and went to set the table. They only needed two after all. 

By midday, Anna was getting a little antsy. 

“If the snow wasn’t so high— and there wasn’t a raging blizzard, obviously— we could be building snowmen right now,” Anna said wistfully, holding aside the blanket to gaze out at the narrow strip of murky white sky. Only a few inches remained between the drift and the top of the window.

“I know!” Anna spun around. “Do you have any paper and something to draw with?”

Elsa looked baffled by the request, but retrieved a notebook and a couple of pencils for her. Anna tore out some blank pages, waving Elsa to sit down across from her. “Okay, so since we can’t go outside and build real snowmen, we can at least make some this way.” Elsa glanced from the paper to Anna, looking unconvinced. Anna shrugged. “We have to pass the time somehow right?”

“Alright.” 

It took some doing at first; Elsa kept getting lost in the middle distance while she tapped her pencil anxiously against the table. With enough prodding from Anna though, she got into it and by the time dinner rolled around they had a small army of 2D snow people. 

Anna’s second favorite was a delightfully monstrous snow creature Elsa had sketched with precise strokes and deft shading. Her first was undeniably goofy but charming; squat and awkwardly shaped, with big eyes and a bucktoothed grin. That one they’d made together, with Elsa illustrating while Anna directed her and offered suggestions.  

They named him Olaf and Anna thought he was perfect.

After dinner they sat by the fire, sipping mulled wine Elsa heated for them on the stove. Anna was grateful for the added warmth and the pleasant buzz. 

“It’s just so crazy you guys have a blizzard in July,” Anna said suddenly, voicing the thought that had been a constant, giant question mark. “Every year! What even is that?”

Elsa set her glass aside and leaned back in the chair, cradling her arms across her stomach. “It’s just something that happens here. Though, if it has to happen I think July is probably the best time.”

“How could summer be the right time for snow?”

Elsa shifted and bit her lip. “We already have harsh winters here, a snowstorm like this on top of that would be even more dangerous. Better one briefly interrupts July and then everyone has the rest of summer to enjoy, don’t you think?”

Anna could admit that sort of made sense. Still, it wasn’t any less weird. 

—

On day three Anna was up to three sweaters, a blanket, and two pairs of sweat pants. Elsa was down to a fitted henley and jeans. She was beginning to wonder if Elsa would give her the last shirt off her back if it came to it, and that mental image got Anna flustered enough to feel like shedding layers instead of adding them. 

She amused herself by exploring the cabin— at least, the areas that weren’t private. Elsa had a few intriguing nicknacks, but what captured Anna’s attention were the two bookcases next to the fireplace. Books of all kinds lined the shelves; in English, Norwegian, and other languages she couldn’t place. There were novels, and textbooks, and books so old she didn’t dare touch them. 

Later, after Elsa had finished her bath, Anna persuaded her to read from one with a deep blue cover and silver leaf embossing. It was clear by the illustrations they were fairytales, though she couldn’t understand any of them. Anna quickly discovered she could listen to the smooth lilt of Elsa’s mother tongue forever, but before long her eyes had closed and the soft norwegian story trailed off with her consciousness. 

When she woke, Elsa was still curled up in the armchair, reading silently. Anna stretched and plodded over to the fireplace. She grabbed the fire iron and prodded at the remaining wood, making sure it was all lit. One of the logs cracked and split in a pop of sparks, and something beneath it caught her eye. Anna leaned closer; it was oddly smooth and cylindrical, and just there was an intricately carved pattern like—  

The chairs in the kitchen. 

So that’s where they went.

Clearly Elsa had some strange immunity to the cold, and she hadn’t bothered to stockpile more wood for herself even though she new the storm was coming.

She’d been burning her own furniture to keep Anna warm. 

Anna looked over at the woman, still completely absorbed by the book in her lap. Another small piece of the enigmatic puzzle that was Elsa fell into place; one that made Anna’s chest feel tight, and warm, and a little achy. 

Elsa glanced up then and noticed her staring. She blinked. “What?”

Anna cleared her throat and stood up, brushing her hands on the back of her pants. It felt important to let Elsa have this secret. She put on a reassuring smile. “Nothing. Can I make you some hot chocolate?”

Elsa smiled. “Yes, please.”

That night Elsa actually joined Anna on the couch, curling into the opposite corner while they started their second glass of mulled wine.

“So why do you come up here all by yourself? And during weather like this, no less?” 

Elsa’s lips twisted in a way that was difficult to read. “I’m not bothered by the cold,” she said, confirming the obvious. “And I’m not always good at being around other people.” 

“You’re an introvert.” 

“Yes, but it’s more than that.” Elsa swirled the wine in her glass. “After a while the world gets too loud and I need to be alone, completely. I come here to get away and try to let go of all the things that build up. All the reasons I can’t be…normal.”

Anna leaned her head back into the cushions, tilting her face towards Elsa. “Normal is overrated, and there’s nothing wrong with needing space. You gotta get those feelings out somehow.” 

“Sometimes I think I feel too much.”

“Better than too little.” 

Elsa hummed noncommittally. Anna could feel her starting to withdraw, and searched for some way to hold on to this unexpectedly open side of Elsa. “I think that was my ex’s problem.” 

Elsa looked up. “Oh?” 

“Yup,” she said, popping her lips on the ‘p’. “Too shallow. Took me a year to figure it out, and that was only as he was leaving me. It was a great reminder of why I prefer dating women,” she muttered into her glass. 

She inhaled and continued past the bitterness. “It’s one of the reasons I made this trip actually— well that and the vet clinic where I work shutting down. A little hard to start your own practice in a big city that already has plenty. I guess I was feeling a little adrift, and my aunt and uncle always talked about showing me the place where they grew up, so I thought: why not? Though technically they’re from Fevik, not Arendal, but Fevik doesn’t have much to offer in the way of rentals.”

“Why would anyone leave you?” 

Dammit. She was hoping Elsa wouldn’t focus too closely on her love troubles. Anna chuckled humorlessly. “When he broke up with me he said, and I quote: ‘Anna, you’re great, but you’re just too much’.” 

She shrugged and took a liberal sip. It didn’t matter that Hans had casually flung her deepest insecurity in her face right before he walked out the door forever. Even if he hadn’t been the best partner, and she hadn’t been happy towards the end. 

It was fine. 

“You are a lot.” 

Elsa quickly reached for her hand when she saw the look of hurt Anna couldn’t hide, surprising them both. For a moment it seemed like she might pull away, but she squeezed Anna’s hand instead. “I didn’t say you were too much. You are a lot of a good thing.” Elsa withdrew her hand and cupped it around her wine glass, staring into the burgundy liquid. “Some people don’t deserve that,” she finished quietly.

It must have been the alcohol sloshing in her stomach and the fumes muddying her brain that made Anna say, into a silence suddenly heavy with nebulous meaning: “Why do I feel like we’re not just talking about my ex anymore?”

Elsa sucked in a breath, as if she hadn’t realized her words would be so revealing. She set her glass down on the coffee table then tucked her feet under her, grabbing a pillow and holding it to her chest while she picked at the fringe. 

Anna knew her brain had fully turned off her filter when her mouth continued to work, seemingly of its own volition. “Don’t you deserve good things Elsa?”

Elsa curled herself tighter around the pillow, her eyes seeking answers in the embers of their small fire. The cabin groaned as the storm surged around them. “I’m not sure I do,” she whispered. 

Anna felt her heart break, just a little, at that soft admission. 

“I think that’s bullshit.”

Elsa looked at her, startled. “You barely know me.” 

Anna thought of chair legs and hot chocolate, of warm baths and borrowed clothes— of how she’d never experienced so much cold in her life, and she’d never felt so warm either. The way Elsa humored her, not because Anna was a burden or an obligation, but because she seemed to actually enjoy her company. “I think I know enough. And I’m sure anyone would be fantastically lucky to have you in their life. I know I am.” 

“Why?”

“Well, for starters you saved me from freezing to death out there.”

Elsa shook her head. “You wouldn’t have been in danger of that if I—” she clamped her lips shut. 

“If you what?”

“If I… had checked with Kristoff before he listed his cabin.”

Anna frowned. “That’s hardly your fault, Elsa. It was his mistake. Besides it’s not like you can control the weather.”

Elsa flinched. A thread pulled free from the pillow; she laid it carefully on the arm of the couch. “No… I suppose I can’t.”

“Hey.” Anna extended her leg across the couch and nudged the bottom of her foot against Elsa’s. “I’ve always wanted to experience getting snowed in. I’m glad it was with you.” 

Elsa’s smile was bittersweet. 

But still there, and Anna took that as a win.

*

They finished the rest of their wine in companionable silence as the fire burned down and the night grew deeper. Elsa got up to take the empty glasses to the kitchen. 

“We’re out of wood.” 

“What?” Elsa spun slowly to see Anna squatting by the fireplace. There was nothing left but ash. Elsa had been so distracted by Anna, the wine, and the conversation, that she’d forgotten to find more to salvage, and she’d left Anna without a source of heat. 

This was what happened when Elsa wasn’t careful, when she wasn’t in control of herself — 

“We should sleep together.”

Elsa nearly dropped the glasses.

“What?” 

“Oh my g— n-no! Not like that!” Anna flushed scarlet. “I meant like, for warmth.” She pulled her blanket around herself and looked everywhere but at Elsa. 

Elsa’s pulse slowed a fraction, and she tried to ignore the unexpected whisper of heat low in her stomach. It dissipated instantly when she registered what Anna was suggesting. “Anna, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I’m not…I…I run quite cold, I’d probably make it worse—”

“Then I’ll just have to warm you up.” Anna stopped, her face burning again. “I meant like— oh whatever, you know what I mean.” She came and liberated the glasses from Elsa, setting them in the kitchen sink. Elsa protested weakly as Anna grabbed her hand and marched towards the bedroom, but it seemed she remained powerless to the force of nature that was Anna. 

“Wait.” She tugged on Anna’s hand. “Let me at least get the blankets.”

While Anna got ready, Elsa layered back all the bedding she’d stripped away that first night, grateful Anna hadn’t commented on the fact that she’d been sleeping with nothing but a fitted sheet.

When Anna returned she quickly flung herself under the covers; Elsa climbed in reluctantly on the other side, staying as close to the edge as possible. After a minute Anna pushed the covers down and looked over at her. 

“Okay, I’m not saying you have to spoon me, but it’s going to be a little difficult to share heat from way over there.” 

Elsa bit her lip and slid closer, heart pounding. She felt like Anna was asking her to hand over a live grenade. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this close to anyone. 

“Liiittle closer,” Anna coaxed. Elsa got as close as she dared, still leaving about 20 centimeters of space between them. She drew up the covers more securely, trying to insulate Anna against the cold, against her. As she tucked another blanket around them, her hand brushed Anna’s arm.

Anna shivered. “Geez you’re cold.” She latched onto her wrist before Elsa could react, pulling her closer. “You must be freezing,” she muttered, running her palm back and forth over Elsa’s forearm. 

Elsa was frozen; her whole body had gone rigid, while her heart had leaped into her throat. Anna had pulled her closer as if that would bring them heat, and now she was worried about Elsa being warm enough. The irony was excruciating. But Anna’s grip was strong, and Elsa felt a twisted flair of hope; that perhaps, just this once, she might be capable of more than cold. 

Anna shuffled back drowsily into her arms and Elsa held her breath, waiting for the worst. Minutes went by and nothing happened; Anna sank into the pillow with a sigh, still holding onto her. Tentatively, Elsa began to relax, as fragile hope turned to wonder. 

Anna hadn’t turned away.  

At every turn Anna had been reaching out, even when Elsa was reserved, or anxious, or closed off. Anna kept drawing her out, kept intriguing and surprising her. 

Anna had felt the cold, her cold, and she reached for Elsa anyway. 

In that moment it didn’t matter that Anna wasn’t aware of the whole truth— yet, because after the last few days with this woman, Elsa was confident that Anna wouldn’t have done a thing differently.   

The last thing Elsa knew was a soft snore, and the feel of Anna against her, and then she knew nothing else.

—

The first thing Elsa became aware of, was warmth. Heavy warmth, and a body in her arms, and breath on her neck. She inhaled slowly, soaking in each incredible, hazy sensation. It took a few moments for Elsa’s brain to remember who was in bed with her, and who it was nuzzling closer with a sweet sigh. Her pulse jump started, and for once, not out of fear. It seemed Anna was fine—more than, in fact— and Elsa was greedy for every last moment before the inevitable. 

After a few minutes the spell broke as Anna stirred groggily, pressing her face into the pillow with a murmur. One eye opened and landed on Elsa. It grew wider when Anna realized just how close they were and she quickly disentangled herself, cheeks flushed bright red. “Oops, sorry, I uh, I can be a little clingy when I share a bed.” 

Elsa struggled with the near physical ache begging her to pull Anna back to her arms, a sensation as terrifying as it was foreign, as baffling as it was undeniable. “It’s alright,” she said softly, her own face feeling a little hot. 

She watched Anna hop out of bed and go to the window to throw open the curtains, seemingly more out of habit than anything else. 

Anna gasped. “No. Way. Elsa! You have to see this—you’re not gonna believe it!” 

Elsa frowned and joined her apprehensively at the window. She peered out, and lost her breath.

Nearly all the snow was gone. 

Only a thin layer remained on the ground, melting under the bright sunlight. Large swathes of grass were showing, triumphant and sparkling in the fading frost. 

Anna bumped her hip against Elsa’s. “Isn’t this great?! We can go outside! We can stock up on supplies, I can wear my clothes again— not that I don’t like yours— Oh, we could have a picnic! Kristoff said there was a lake nearby, I wonder if Oaken has a boat…“

Anna continued spouting ideas as she left the room, and Elsa registered distantly that all Anna’s haphazard plans involved her. The sharp little anxiety at the thought of having to say goodbye died before it could take root. 

Elsa remained at the window, dazed and transfixed by the landscape that had been altered so drastically overnight. 

Or perhaps, had been four days in the making. 

Anna rushed back in, finally having realized Elsa wasn’t following her. She grabbed Elsa by the hand and led her outside, where they came to a stop in the grass just past the porch. They stood, absorbing the sunlight, the gentle breeze and the birdsong. Anna still had ahold of her hand, and Elsa was content to keep it there for as long as she’d let her. 

The sun blazed forth from behind a passing cloud, and Anna shaded her eyes with her free hand. “It seems like that freak storm really has passed huh?”

A smile pulled at Elsa’s lips and she looked up into the vivid blue sky. “So it would seem.”

[lucky-bucky-boy]

Cruel Summer

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Summary: Based loosely off of Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift; You shouldn’t have given in, shouldn’t have caved to him. But what could you say? Some people were just too irresistible. But one too many bad choices lead to tension that even the worst of the worst couldn’t bare.

Word Count: 5473

Warnings: Angst, smut, dom/sub elements, daddy kink, dirty talk, very slight age gap, please let me know if I missed any

A/N: Tags are at the bottom. Please please please let me know what you think, this writing style is a bit out of my comfort zone. I’m trying some new things out before writing my book and really need all the feedback possible. Positive and constructive please. NO spoilers, taking place before the events of Knives Out, age difference of Meg and Ransom was skewed to fit timeline/idea // Read on AO3 here

I do not own these characters. Do NOT repost my writing and/or fics anywhere without my written permission. Reblogs welcomed and highly appreciated!

The wintery chill of the evening Massachusetts air threatened to seep in, blowing harshly against the windowpanes and spinning it’s way through every bare branch and thickly coated pine tree on the property. A typical monthly gathering of family and those like family, a gun show and jab contest dressed up to look like a quiet evening around the fire with loved ones and good food. 

Gazes darted around the room, a tension so palpable it made even the Thrombey family uncomfortable. No one could quite place why though, or even which pair was causing the air to thicken. A typically thin lipped, on edge, cut throat monthly dinner was somehow even more treacherous this time around. 

But no one would have guessed that it involved you. Usually revered as the quiet one, the one who steered away from trouble and left before the tension boiled over, the girl who brought bright smiles and a sharp mind, Meg’s best friend since diapers, your father’s accomplished author for a daughter; not one person would have even thought to have blinked an eye in your direction.

But no one in that room knew why the air was so thick you could taste it, why the sound of the metal knives scraping against expensive glass plates was more bearable than breathing in the smog of tension. One wrong move and-

“So, what’s got everyone’s knickers in a twist, huh?” The smug, faux caring, intoxicating drawl that got you in this mess. 

The flood gates were open now. Everyone talking over the other, talking louder and louder, unknowingly looking for the cause of the uncomfortable feeling that sat low in their bellies. It didn’t last too long, maybe over a minute before it fell silent enough that you could hear the wind whistling outside.

Even with your gaze downcast to your plate you could feel everyone turn to look at you, eyes judging and calculating, picking apart every move, ever wrinkle in your clothes, and twitch of a muscle. 

“You’ve been quiet,” it was your father speaking now, and for the first time you were thankful for that, “What’s new with you, dear? How’s your third book coming along?”

A shrug as you met his gaze, a smile on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s coming.” Your tone was practically unreadable, unamused and almost annoyed. 

A snicker from the other end of the table had all of you snapping your heads in the direction of the noise. A shit eating grin was plastered on Ransom’s face, eyes glinting with mischief. You tried your damnedest not to notice how the ruby color of his scarf brought out the ocean blues you got lost in too many times, or how the cream color of his worn sweater was practically taunting you with every memory of you in that sweater. But you knew him, you knew him too well for your own liking, for your own good. And you knew he did things with a purpose. 

“What’s so funny?” His mother snapped at him, his lips pulling into that smirk that had you at his will one too many times. 

“Just never thought I’d hear little ol’ (Y/N) say something along those lines again.”

Pin drop. Silence and shock coursed through every fiber of every person sitting at that table. Confused glances between the two of you, unnerved and in disbelief. 

“What the hell, Ransom? Why do you-” Meg started, voice loud and higher than usual in agitation. 

But you cut her off, staring back at the man who seemingly was doing whatever he could to get under your skin. “Hugh, if you’ve decided you’re going to tell a story, at least make sure to tell the fucking truth.”

A few hushed gasps echoed around the table as Ransom matched your stare. “Oh, come on, sweetheart. You know that’s not what I like you calling me.”

You scoffed, “You lost the privilege of me calling you what you want the day you told me to leave.”

“As if you didn’t want it just as badly. I seem to recall rather clearly you begging for me.”

“And I seem to recall rather clearly you telling me to get my shit and get the fuck out.” You snapped, feeling your skin heat with embarrassment and agitation. No one was supposed to find out like this, no one was supposed to find out at all. 

Ransom stood suddenly, stalking over to you, eyes never leaving yours. He towered over your sitting figure for a moment, trying to melt your resolve before he leaned down, face only inches away from yours. The musky vanilla and cedar scent of his cologne, the mintiness of his breath with a hint of whiskey, the warm scent of clean cotton from his clothes, it was all almost too much. “Let’s get this straight, baby girl,” the nickname was taunting you like a schoolyard insult, “we had an arrangement. That arrangement didn’t involve feelings. You ruined that.”

“Yeah, because me loving you is the worst thing you ever heard.” You stood as well, at your wits end with this situation, with him, “Dumbest mistake of my life was thinking how you felt when you were drunk was how you felt when you were sober. Fuck you, Ransom." 

He stood back some, moving out of your way as you grabbed your jacket off of the back of your chair, storming out of the too warm mansion and into the freezing cold. Ransom’s voice followed after you, "Don’t forget you already did, sweetheart.”

-

Notification after notification, endless vibration making you want to pull your hair out. A long drive home with a clenched jaw and a white knuckle grip on the steering wheel. The day couldn’t be over soon enough, an escape from the embarrassment and misery of that excuse of a dinner much too far away for your liking. 

The hope that your apartment would have been your ticket to peace and quiet was quickly destroyed when there was banging on the door. A huff as you trudged out of the blankets on the couch to the door, swinging it open to see a distraught Meg. 

“What the hell was that about?”

There it went, any bit of resolve and composure went out that front door when she took a step in. Tears quickly welled in your eyes, falling in little streams down your face. The agitation on her face was quickly replaced with worry as she wrapped you in a hug, “Hey, hey, no need for that. Come on. Let’s get you something to drink and then I want you to tell me what that was all about, okay? I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on, alright?”

She walked you through the kitchen, making you both a cup of hot tea and grabbing a handful of snacks before steering you back towards the couch, sitting the both of you down. Meg’s eyes filled with relief as she watched you sip at the warm liquid, sniffling softly as you calmed yourself down. 

“Okay, start from the beginning. What happened?”

-

Warm, low lights, a soft thumping from the outdated speakers, a happy, giddy atmosphere floating over the table. A small, cheesy banner sat taped to the edge of the booth, bright tacky colors spelling out “Congratulations”. Two of your friend sat with you in the rounded corner booth, your leg sticking out to the side and bouncing with slight anticipation. Even though you requested a small thing, your beloved friends Shelby and Laura had a hard time doing things small.

But they insisted it wasn’t a lot. Meg was off studying for finals and wouldn’t be able to make it so instead Shelby invited her boyfriend Jay and told him to bring a friend or two along. And not to forget the cake. Their last phone call twenty minutes ago consisted of reiterating the confirmation over and over again. You’re on your way? Awesome great. Who’d you bring? Okay. Did you get the cake? Okay. Don’t forget the cake. Okay. Don’t ruin the cake. Okay you’re sure the cake is okay?

Laura and you couldn’t help but giggle at her, anxiety and anticipation evident in her features as she checked her phone again and again, eyes darting to the entrance waiting for her boyfriend and his friends to enter the hole in the wall bar with that god damn cake. 

Excusing yourself to the bathroom seemed to speed up the time because as you returned you nearly tripped over yourself. There was Shelby, cuddled up next to Jay. And Jay had two men sitting next to him, one you didn’t recognize and one you knew all too well. Hugh Ransom Drysdale.

A man you hadn’t seen in easily a year or two. He had began to skip out on family dinners, tired of the endless drama and bore of it all. Even when the family took their yearly vacation together and during the holiday parties he somehow managed to not be anywhere insight, despite his mother insisting he was there. 

“Look at you, little (Y/N), all grown up now.” His eyes shamelessly raked over your figure, taking in how your body had changed over the years, “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, brat. Since before you published the first book.”

You huffed out an anxious laugh, nodding as you took your seat at the end of the booth, opposite of him. “Y-yeah, it’s been a while. You kinda stopped coming around.”

“Can you blame me? My family would make anyway go insane. I’m surprised yours has stayed around as long as they have. But enough about me, sweetheart, from what I’ve been told we’re here to celebrate you-”

Shelby squealed some, “Yep! And that’s why,” she hung onto the end of the word as she lifted the lid of the box that was now sitting in the center of the table. Once the top was off, the sides fell down, revealing a cake decorated to look like a book with the title of your second book you had just published on it. The whole reason you all were here. 

Your heart swelled at the gesture, “Aw! Shelbs! Thank you so much!” You gave her a small little pout, “God I’m gonna cry. I can’t believe I actually did that. Twice now!”

Laughter erupted around the table, the group continuing to shower you in drinks, gifts, and affection. Jay bought you a drink and some food, Laura had gotten you a customized journal with your favorite quote from the book on the front of it, Shelby kept giving you little cards with her favorite things about the books you’ve written in them. It wasn’t long until the group started to dwindle though. First Jay’s other friend who probably felt awkward, then Laura who had to work in the morning. 

Ransom and Jay decided to play a round of pool before Jay and Shelby headed out for the night, and Shelby took the time to interrogate you. 

“Oh. My. God. He is so fucking hot. How the hell do you know him? You never leave your apartment.” She fawned over Ransom, who currently had his back to the two of you at the other side of the bar. 

You sighed, shaking your head in disbelief. “First off, you have a boyfriend,” your reprimanded playfully. “Second, that’s Meg’s older cousin. He’s like 4 or 5 years older than us. Spoilt brat. Never worked a day in his life. Third, before you even suggest it because I see that look in your eye. I’m not sleeping with him. I didn’t even let him buy me a drink when he offered let alone going home with him.”

She pouted at you, “Come on, (Y/N/N), you’ve been so stressed with the editing and the publishing. Just have a little fun.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning over and grabbing a nacho to throw into your mouth. “The only fun I need after all this is my handy dandy blue vibrator under my bed. No need to go home with him.”

She scoffed. “Fiiiine, whatever. I still think he’s hot.”

The two men came back a few minutes later, laughing loudly and teasing one another. It was odd, rare even to see Ransom genuinely laughing, whole chest vibrating with the motion, genuine happiness seeping off of him. Jay collected his things as did Shelby, both bidding you a goodnight, Shelby throwing a wink in as well as they exited. 

“Then there was two,” Ransom drawled, smirking lazily at you as he finished off his drink. “Come on, (Y/N/N), let me buy you a drink.”

You smiled, huffing out a small laugh as you shook your head. “I’m good, Ransom. Really.”

“After all those years of you stealing my stash I’m actually willing to buy you a drink and you’re telling me no?”

You rolled your eyes, butterflies beginning to swarm inside you. “I’m telling you no because I still have at least a thirty minute uber ride home and don’t want to be overly intoxicated. The only thing I want right now it a plate of pancakes and some greasy hash browns.”

“Then let’s go get some,” he offered, a somewhat uncharacteristically sweet smile replacing his smirk. “Look, I haven’t seen you in a while and you just accomplished something so let me at least try to do something nice.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. “You? Hugh Ransom Drysdale? Do something nice? Oh I must be dead.” He pouted at you, the slight disappointed look in his blue eyes sending you reeling. “Fine. I won’t pass up on an offer like that. Just make sure you take me somewhere good." 

Thirty minutes later you sat in a small diner that was essentially in the middle of nowhere. The name GiGi’s was in neon pink light on top the structure that looked like it was plucked out of Grease. A few semi-trucks littered the parking lot and only a couple of faces of customers sat in the diner. 

Ransom had already threw you for a loop, opening doors for you, turning the music down to ask you about your book; and not just what it was about, but what inspired you to write it, what was your muse. He had let you pick the seat and even ordered for you when the waitress came over. Two breakfast samplers with extra crispy hash browns, and two strawberry milkshakes because ‘why not? It’ll be just like when we were kids’.

You were beyond shocked at how comfortable you felt around him. No awkwardness or anxiety that had hit you earlier. It was simple, felt easy, felt right. 

"So, I have to ask, why are you suddenly being nice to me?” The question was simple enough, lips wrapping around the straw of the milkshake after you asked, watching him and waiting. 

“Was I ever not nice to you?” He asked, bemused and quirking an eyebrow at you. 

Swallowing down the cold liquid you scoffed. “Seriously? You’ve been a dick to me since I was like 12 or 13. Whenever you started hanging out with that one guy in high school - Chuck? I think. Anyways, it got even worse after you turned 21. You pretty much outright refused to acknowledge my existence." 

He pursed his lips as he thought about it, "I- okay yeah, you’re right. I did do that- but in my defense I stopped acknowledging you because I thought you were hot and I was older so it was creepy and just easier to ignore you.”

You blinked a few times, shocked and processing what he had just said, “You what?”

He shrugged, taking a bite of his food. “Yep. And Chuck thought you guys were annoying so I dunno, guess I thought being a dick would keep you guys from pestering me.”

You couldn’t help but glare at him softly. “Then why did you come out tonight to celebrate my book? And offer to buy me drinks and food?”

Ransom suddenly looked a lot less relaxed, stern and serious as he kept his gaze on you. “Do you really want to know?”

“I asked, didn’t I?” You challenged back, heart thumping in your chest. 

He broke out into a huge grin, chuckling some, “Still not the one to ever back down from me. God, I love it. The reason I came out tonight was because, whether you believe it or not, I’m actually a fan of your writing. I have two copies of your first book and I already preordered the second. The reason I stayed out is because I realized how much I missed you. Most of my favorite memories from when I was younger involve you.”

“Really?” You inquired, munching on the food in front of you. “Like what?”

“Should’ve known you wouldn’t have let that one slide.” He chuckled softly. “One of my favorite memories is when I was probably 10 or 11, I think you and Meg had just started school. And you guys were learning about the stars and space and for some reason I was really obsessed with astronomy at the time. So one night, Meg, you, and I decided to camp out back of granddad’s and mom set a fire up for us and we sat there for hours roasting marshmallows and me teaching you guys about the constellations.”

A bright smile spread across your lips, so big it practically hurt. “I’m surprised you even remember that.”

“Hey, what can I say? I’m a man full of surprises who aims to please.”

“Yeah, I can tell.”

Once the bill came, Ransom didn’t even let you see it, immediately pulling out some cash and handing it to the waitress, telling her to keep the change. He watched as you pulled out your phone, opening the uber app. “What’re you doing?” He asked quizzically.

“Calling myself a ride.” You answered, not even looking up. 

“Nuh uh,” he shook his head, reaching over and grabbing the phone from you. “I’ll take you home.”

“But my apartment is like 45 minutes away and your house is down the street,” you protested. 

“Then stay at my house tonight and I’ll take you home in the morning. I’ll sleep on the couch, you can take the bed.”

You quirked an eyebrow, obviously not believing him. “You sleeping on the couch? Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.” He promised, offering you a warm smile. “Now, am I taking you home or are you staying at my house?”

“…I’ll stay at your place,” you mumbled. 

Something about Ransom’s house felt oddly comforting. The large window at the front of the living room let the moonlight stream in, the darker colors that the walls were painted contrasting beautifully with every sleek modern piece of furniture he had. It was obvious his family influenced his taste some. The intricate designs on the patterns of the throw pillows something you could very easily see Halarn buying, while his kitchen was practically black, white, and silver - looking like it popped out of the modern section of an HGTV magazine. But it all flowed and melded together beautifully. 

He showed you to his room, grabbing himself a change of clothes before heading out and leaving you alone. You couldn’t help but stand there and take in your surroundings. Being in there, even without him, felt intimate. Like he was showing you a secret page in a book he loved. A few pictures were on his dresser, various ones or him at parties with friends, one of the family which was smaller than the others. It was neat, clean and tidy but most likely because of a maid and not because he took the time out to clean up his mess. And it smelled of him, everything in the room just breathed Ransom. 

Sitting down on the bed, you kicked your shoes off, sitting them down by the end before lying down and attempting to get comfortable. But to no avail, you tossed and turned for a few moments, and despite the softness of the mattress and sheets below you, you felt uncomfortable. Jeans too tight, bra irritating your skin, face feeling oily and heavy. You needed a shower and a change of clothes if you wanted to even think of falling asleep. 

Hesitantly you made you way back downstairs, where Ransom was currently sitting in a pair of gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt, book in hand. You didn’t even have to say anything, his eyes moved from the book to you, cocking an eyebrow, “Guessing you need a shower and some comfy clothes?" 

You nodded sheepishly. "Yeah, kind feel blah after the bar and greasy food.”

“That’s okay. Towels and wash rags are in the standing closet in the bathroom. Both bathrooms with have them but the master bathroom has better shower pressure. Just take something out of my closet to wear for the night.”

You nodded a thank you and headed back upstairs, grabbing the first sweater you saw in his closet and heading into the bathroom. A part of you felt as if you were dreaming, that this wasn’t actually happening. Any residual crush you had on Ransom from your childhood was coming back full force, and doubling all at one. A quick shower you hoped would calm your slightly growing nerves, but drying off and slipping on the damned creme colored sweater you knew you were hopeless. It smelled like him, was warm and soft. 

Before you could stop yourself you were padding back down the steps, not caring that the sweater barely covered your ass and that you hadn’t bothered with any underwear. Ransom was staring at you before had even looked at him, eyes taking in the sight of you in nothing else but his sweater, jaw set tight with a slight tick. “Whatcha doing there, sweetheart?” He urged, trying to keep his composure. 

You sat on your knees next to him on the couch, staring at him for a moment. “Debating if I should do something I’ll probably regret in the morning.”

He smirked, “I promise if you’re gonna do what I think, you won’t regret it. You can hold me to that.”

“Then make sure I don’t-” you leaned forward, closing the distance between the two of you and pressing your lips against his. The fullness of his pouty lower lip slotted between yours, kissing you in a way you had never been kissed before, completely and utterly stealing your breath and any logical thought from you. 

His hands were on your hips, pulling you into his lap, groaning softly against your lips at the feel of your smooth skin in his hand. It was a battle of tongues for dominance, which you quickly surrendered at the feel of him gripping your ass, kneading and pulling before spanking the plump flesh. 

He pulled away first, a wild look in his eyes. “Get your ass upstairs, baby girl. Daddy’s gonna make sure you don’t regret a thing.”

A shiver went up your spine and you squealed softly before giggling, high on adrenaline and him. You stole another kiss before running upstairs to his room, heart pounding and mind racing. 

Ransom came in a few moments later, quickly discarding his shirt and tossing it in the direction of the hamper before stalking towards you. He moved to hover over you, lips dancing along the skin of your neck. “God fucking damn it, baby girl, seeing you in my clothes - fuck you’re gonna drive me crazy.” He pressed a few kisses to the sensitive skin before biting down on the junction where your neck met your shoulder. 

The whimpers and moans that left you spurred him on, lips continuing their worship of your skin as his hands traveled along the outside of your thighs and up to you hips. Fingers traced along to curve to your waist, up and over your breast as your nipples prickled at the sensation. He felt every movement, every time you squirmed, every time you squeezed your thighs together, every time you rutted. 

“Can I take this off you, sweetheart? Make you feel real good, promise, baby.” A nod was all he needed and the moment you leaned up some he pulled the sweater off, tossing it aside. Ransom moved to lean back, moving to sit on his haunches, moving your thighs and spreading them to be on his clothed ones. 

“Fuck, princess. You’re so fucking perfect. So fucking wet for me, I can already see it. You my little whore, hm?” He leaned down, pressing kisses against the skin of your chest. 

A sudden slap to your thigh caused you to gasp. “What was that for?” You whined, moving to card your fingers through his hair. 

“Speak when you’re spoken to or I’ll have to punish you.” The thought riled you up even more. Being splayed across his lap, hand coming down on you as you squirmed relentlessly, taking every bit of the 'punishment’. But that was for another time, hopefully. Right now you wanted, no needed him. 

“Sorry, daddy.” Your voice was so soft and innocent, absolutely driving him wild. 

He wanted nothing more than to ram into you, make you scream. But not yet, he wasn’t done teasing. Ransom’s lips moved from the skin of your chest to you nipples, pressing a chaste kiss on one before moving to the other and back again. Back and forth as the motions increased. A kiss to a flick to a suck to a nibble. 

His lips begin to move south, nipping at the soft skin along the way. “Absolutely stunning.” He hummed, “Better than I could have imagined, pretty girl.” Soon he was situated between your legs, breath fanning over your soaked folds. A soft groan left Ransom, kissing at the skin of your thighs. “Smell so good, gonna taste even better I guarantee it.”

“Stop teasing,” you whined, tugging on his hair. 

He looked up at you, “Baby, that’s not how this works,” he tsked softly. “You want something, you need to beg.”

Another deep throaty whine ripped from you. “Please,” you whimpered, squirming. “Fuck please, need you." 

He chuckled softly, "I’ll let you off this time - Wanna taste this pretty little pussy.” Without any other warning he delved into your cunt, licking a stripe from entrance to clit before suckling on the little nub. He licked and sucked and nibbled, two fingers prodded your entrance before pushing in to the second knuckle, curling and immediately finding that spot that made you see star. 

Ransom basked in your mewls, the feel of you tugging on his hair before your grip would loosen as your eyes rolled into the back of your skull. Talented was an understatement and a part of you hated how good it was, how good he was treating you. 

He didn’t stop, determined to coax an orgasm out of you. Fingers moved swiftly, in and out, scissoring and curling. Lips worked in tandem, listening to your cries of pleasure to determine what you really liked and kept at it. It wasn’t long before your toes were curling, back arching off the bed in a loud moan, his name like a prayer on your lips. 

“Ransom,” you whimpered as the aftershocks rolled through you, his lips never leaving your core, “fuck, Ransom, daddy please. Want your cock.”

He pulled away, pressing one last chaste kiss to your clit before moving to kiss you, letting you taste yourself as he pulled his sweats down and kicked them off. Your hands quickly moved to his length, stroking softly and moaning against his lips. 

“You’re so big,” the little whine caused him to chuckle softly as he pulled away, leaning over to pull a condom out of his bedside table.

“Yeah? Think I’m big, baby girl? Want me to split you in two?” The cockiness in his voice only added to how much you wanted him. 

All you could do was nod, looking up at him with a pouty lip and wide eyes. “Please, fuck me, wanna cum on your cock.”

He growled softly, pulling the condom on and lining himself up with your entrance. Ransom teased, moving the head to hook your clit a few times, loving the little jolt and whine that would come from you. He pushed in, slow at first to let you accommodate to his girth, then a quick thrust to bury himself to the hilt, feeling as though he was hitting your cervix. 

If you had ever wondered why Ransom was a playboy, why he was so cocky and self assured, you knew why now. He pulled out almost fully before slamming back in, angling his hips to hit that spot that had your legs quaking every time he pushed back in. Each push and pull had your head reeling, moans falling freely from your lips as you scratched helplessly at his back for purchase. One of Ransom’s hands snaked between the two of you, flicking your clit in time with his thrusts. 

With his face buried in the crook of your neck, he growled out words into your skin, pushing you closer and closer to the edge;

“Such a good girl for me.”

“Perfect fucking pussy, squeezing me so good.”

“You were made for this, made for me. Weren’t you baby girl?”

“Come on, princess. Cum on Daddy’s cock. Show me how much you love it.”

One particularly rough thrust paired with a bite to your sensitive skin had you tipping over the edge, mouth open in a silent scream as your toes curled and thighs squeezed his waist. A few more sloppy thrusts and he emptied himself in the condom, groaning and moaning low in his chest. 

A few moments of breathing, neither of you bothering to move as you came down from your highs. Ransom pressed a few kisses to your neck before taking what little breath you had away as he kissed you, an obvious heated passion still boiling beneath the surface. He pulled out while he lips where still on yours, swallowing down your whine before pulling away. 

Ransom left the bed, your body quaking ever so slightly with aftershocks as he disappeared into the bathroom. He returned a few moments later, condom gone and holding a damp wash rag. He handed it to you, letting you clean yourself up as he slid back under the comforter, taking it from you when you were done and tossing it into the hamper. 

Without as much as a word he pulled you into his side, pressing a quick kiss to your hairline. The two of you stayed quiet for what felt like forever, never quite falling asleep and taking in what exactly had just happened. Just as the sun began to break the night sky, he moved so he was facing you, lying on his side. Crystal clear blue eyes searched your face, a look of contemplation evident. 

“Would you want to do that again?” He asked, voice almost hushed as if he was telling a secret. 

You hesitated your answer, nodding softly, “Yeah, actually. I would.”

He smirked softly, “We’ll discuss the details after we sleep. But let’s just make sure no one finds out. Our little arrangement, okay?”

-

Meg stared at you, a look mixed between confusion, disbelief, and a little bit of disgust. “That was-” she sighed, shaking her head and running a hand through her hair, “That was a little more than I needed to know. Is he the mysterious guy you were seeing last summer?”

A small nod as you sipped at the tea more before looking at her, giving her a look that could only be compared to that of a kicked puppy. You watched as puzzle pieces fit together in her mind, slowly seeing the big picture. 

“He’s the guy who bought you all that jewelry. And the guy that got you a dog - he hates dogs - The guy who took you to Maldives and Paris? What the-” her brows furrowed some, nibbling at her lip as you nodded in confirmation, “The guy that got drunk one night and told you he couldn’t live without you? That you were his everything?”

Her words sliced deep and you sniffled to keep yourself from crying again. “Yep,” your voice was still hoarse with emotions. “It was all Ransom.”

Meg sighed softly, her sympathy evident in every move and noise she made. “I’m so sorry… Do - do you still love him?”

Time seemed to freeze momentarily, every single memory whirling through your mind. With tears brimming your eyes again you looked at Meg, feeling utterly broken and lost. “I’m scared there won’t ever be a time where I don’t love him.”

//

Tags: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ @et-lesailes​ @necromaniackat​ @dramaticsassmaster​ @bval-1​ @writingoneficatatime​ @lokilvrr​

[killingkueen]

There’s Snow Place Like Home*

*the back of the pawnshop

Merry Happy, @silwenworld. How nice to reveal myself; and with a present, too!

summary: Two dumdums get snowed in, and when the heat goes out they have to get creative about staying warm.

rating: E

AO3 link

OO

The door to Game of Thorns opened, pulling Belle from her current paperback. Any pique she felt vanished instantly when she saw who entered.

“Mr. Gold, hello.” She straightened, tugging at the ends of her sweater. She wished she’d had time to put on lipstick that morning. Or any makeup. She just bought a new thing of mascara, too.

“Miss French,” he greeted. His smile was polite, and short lived; Gold turned his attention to the shelf of vases her father had moved closer to the door last week.

Belle tried not to deflate.

“What can I help you with today?” she asked. He was wearing the dark blue shirt, the one with the subtle paisley. It was her favorite, and not because she had a near-matching dress, the lace just as deep and swirling.

Mr. Gold picked up a square vase, also blue. He turned it over, but to check the price or the construction, she wasn’t sure.

“I was thinking of a bouquet, today,” he said to the glass. “Something red, perhaps.”

Belle appreciated the sharp line of his jaw, and how it cut such a nice silhouette while he spoke. “We have carnations, or amaryllis. Those are always nice.”

He made a sound to indicate he was listening, but didn’t turn to look at her. Belle’s shoulders drooped, just a little.

“We also got a new batch of roses, but I remember you ordered those last time.”

He set the vase down, careful not to jostle the shelf. It was a simple movement, his hand placing the glass on the wood, then letting go. His fingers were long, steady, clearly used to handling delicate things. She wondered if he approached everything with such confidence, such assurance that he knew how to touch, handle, and care for. Was he as good with people as objects?

“The roses will do,” he said.

“Roses, right.” She blinked, torn from her fantasy. Her face felt hot, and she hoped her blush wasn’t obvious. 

For fuck’s sake, Belle, she chided herself.

She reached for the order pad by the register and hoped she could get through the interaction without embarrassing herself further.

She could not.

“They’re my favorite, you know.” She smiled at his still turned face.

“Yes, you’ve mentioned.” His voice was dry, bored. 

Belle looked down at the pad. The stubby pencil rubbed against her finger.

“They’re nice flowers,” she couldn’t help but add. When Gold said nothing else, she asked, “Would you like the vase, too?”

“No, thank you.”

He approached the register, and Belle absolutely did not look up. She refused to watch the sway of his hips as he walked with his cane. He was so fluid and elegant. Not that she was watching him now. But she did risk a peak as he approached, catching the glint of his gold-tipped cane, the nice burgundy of his tie. She had a belt that color, or near enough. It would look good with her blue dress.

For a wild moment, she wondered what he’d do if she leaned over the counter and kissed him. Would he stumble back, shocked? Would he—kiss back? Perhaps lace his hands in her hair while hers tugged at his lapels, urging him closer, taking the breath from his lungs—

A sharp trill emanated from Mr. Gold’s pocket.

Belle looked down, quickly, her face hot.

Gold sighed, reaching into his pocket. He made a face at the caller ID. “Add the amount to my account,” he said, hitting a button and silencing his phone. “If you’ll excuse me, Miss French.”

“I’ll bring your bouquet to the shop, then,” she said to his back, as Gold left the store. “You know, when it’s ready.”

The door closed, and she watched through the window as Gold lifted the phone to his ear. He walked away, and Belle noticed it was snowing, the white flurries delicate and large as they fluttered through the air. The sidewalk already had a neat layer.

With an aggrieved sigh, she dropped her head onto her folded arms. Gold was always looking elsewhere, always interested in the thing just over her shoulder. And when he was looking at her, it was always with a bored, if polite, expression, as if she was just a placeholder until the next exciting thing caught his interest.

Belle wondered what she could do. A new dress, perhaps. Or a haircut. Or maybe, when she delivered his bouquet, she could enact her fantasy and grab the pretty bastard by his tailored suit and just—lay one on him. Kiss him until they were both out of breath and gasping. 

It would be great up until he reported her for assault.

Belle sighed. She penciled in Gold’s account number on the order pad, wrote roses, red. She hadn’t asked how many he wanted, so went with his last order: one dozen.

At least she could make his bouquet. She’d pick the best flowers, and tie it all up in a neat bow. And maybe, when she dropped by his shop to deliver it, she’d be able to strike up a conversation. She had asked him about the Tiffany lamp on his counter once. It had been a nice surprise when he’d had a lot to say.

If the day was slow, she could have the roses ready in the afternoon. Seeing him twice in a day—she was going to be spoiled.

OO

Gold did very well in not slamming the door behind him as he entered the back room of his shop. As aggressive as he was in pulling off his overcoat, it was with a controlled shake that rid it of the snow that clung to it. He spared a thought to the weatherman, who had been threatening a storm all week, but it had yet to materialize.

This was supposed to be the day he’d finally do it, he thought. Yeah, right. He ran a hand down his tired face. Every trip to the flower shop was predicated on This Was the Day. Every chance he had at seeing Belle French, every time she caught his eye, whether at the diner, or the pharmacy, or when she’d peek between the slats at the bordered up library—he'd feel something rise in his chest, a warmth he couldn’t explain, the desire to throw himself at her feet.

“Let’s go for coffee,” he wanted to ask. “Have dinner with me,” he’d beg, if he had to. “Come to bed,” he’d let himself think, only in the dark shadow of his bedroom, behind his locked door, under his blankets.

This was the day he would have, too, would have prostrated himself there in her father’s shop if only Regina hadn’t interrupted with her phone call. 

“Please give me any amount of your attention and I will be yours until the stars turn to dust,” was on the tip of his tongue, and it would have made it out of his mouth if only his damn phone had been on silent. Damn the mayor and her contracts.

The thought had no teeth, though. No real oomph behind it.

Gold could barely look at the woman without being blinded, let alone open himself up for rejection and ridicule. And if not ridicule, horror, or even—disgust. It would be the worst kind of shock, he knew, to realize that he, Beast of Storybrooke himself, was interested in sweet Belle French.

Gold sighed, feeling hollow, hopeless. His keys and cell phone clattered as he dropped them on his workbench.

At least he got flowers out of it.

Whether he took them home or kept them by his register, each arrangement was the perfect spot of color, eye catching and lovely. Seeing them kept Belle’s smile close, not that he needed the reminder.

He liked the idea of Belle putting together his bouquet. Of her choosing each bloom with the utmost care, each petal counted and preened especially for him. Perhaps she sealed the bow with a kiss. It was a heady thought.

Ridiculous too, of course. Pure fantasy. It was better than the truth, which was that flowers were chosen from whatever available, wrapped in tissue paper and plastic and tossed his way without another thought beyond how much should be added to his balance.

That made it sound like the French’s did subpar work. Gold fiddled with the space heater knob, turning it up with a thoughtful frown. Regardless of his opinion on the patriarch, the arrangements coming out of Game of Thorns were nothing short of exceptional. 

The true reality was each bouquet was professionally done, and handed to him with a smile from Belle herself that could never mean what he wanted it to.

Perhaps one day, if he was very brave and Belle was in a charitable mood, he could ask for more of her time and she’d agree. 

OO

The day passed slowly. The shop was open, but bereft of customers, which suited Gold just fine. The heater at his feet buzzed, his pen scratched across the thick paper as he looked over his accounts. A world his own, there in his backroom.

Gold had just put on the kettle for tea when the bell jingled. Not bothering to hide his annoyed frown, he swept the curtain aside, stepping into the front. It vanished instantly at the site of Belle, backlit and glowing. 

The round of her cheeks were as red as the roses she clutched, their heads peeking out from the shiny gold plastic they were wrapped in. Her hair was a shining, glistening halo of curls that spilled down her shoulders. She was effervescent, standing at the door of his shop, unnatural in her beauty.

He blinked with the realization that the world outside his shop was white; completely blanketed in snow. It glowed in the burgeoning light of the street, a white darkness.

“Miss French,” he greeted, shaking himself. Speaking of snow, a fair amount had entered with her. What wasn’t clinging to her clothes had been tracked in on her boots, which looked quite solid and nothing like her regular heels, thank goodness.

“Did you walk here?” he asked with a disapproving frown.

“Sorry, sorry,” she said, stomping her feet and trying in vain to keep the mess to his welcome mat. “Dad had already left with the van on a large order for the hospital, and I didn’t realize how bad it had gotten. The storm picked up quick!” The red in her face, embarrassment or the cold he couldn't be sure, made her eyes shine. They were such a lovely blue.

“But, I’m here now,” she said quickly. “And look, your flowers made it.” To prove it, she marched up to his counter, laying the bundle down for him to confirm.

Said bundle was flat from being held against her chest for the single mile that separated their shops, and the wrapping was encased in snow, quickly melting. The roses themselves looked to be in good enough condition, if a little shaken.

“So they have,” he agreed softly. He tapped the counter, a wisp of an idea forming.

Belle smiled. “I could have waited until tomorrow,” she admitted. “But it was snow today and I thought—I mean slow. It was slow, probably because of the snow.” The red this time was definitely from embarrassment. “Anyway, I thought it’d be nice if you had your flowers to get you through the blizzard.”

She was adorable. Gold hoped his face wasn’t too dopey.

He noticed when she pulled her coat tighter against her, and saw she wasn’t wearing a scarf, didn't have a hat. 

Gold kept the front of his shop just a tad too cool to be comfortable in winter in order to encourage the good townsfolk to state their business and get out. Coming inside was not the relief from the storm it could have been.

Ah, yes. There was his idea, turning into a plan. The universe had thrown him a bone.

“You’re not intending to walk back?” he asked carefully. “You barely made it as it is.”

“Oh, well.” She at least had gloves on, but they didn’t look thick enough for Gold’s liking. “I already closed the flower shop. I was going to walk home when I finished here.”

Gold tried to keep the eagerness from showing on his face. The house she rented with her father was twice as far as Game of Thorns, and in the opposite direction. On a nice day, the walk was pleasant. With a blizzard raging? Unthinkable.

He told her as much. 

“I guess I could ask Dad to swing by to pick me up,” she said, digging out her phone and tapping on the screen. “You know, whenever he finishes with his delivery.”

“Great idea.” Gold lifted the bouquet, keeping as much as the melted snow on the wrapping as he could; he didn’t want to waste anytime cleaning, not when he finally had Belle all to himself.

“I think the storm will stop soon, anyway,” she said, ever the optimist. “How much longer can it keep up?”

Knowing Maine, easily for the next week. “Come on then.”

“Sorry?”

Gold was halfway through the curtain, roses snug in his arms. They’d perk up when they were submerged in water, rather than swimming in it. “Come warm up. I have the space heater on.”

“In the back?” Her eyes were wide.

Had he overstepped? He couldn’t think how. “I put the kettle on to boil. Should be ready any moment now.”

She took a hesitant step forward eyeing the curtain as if it hid a trap door. “I mean, if it’s okay.”

“I insist. Come have a cup of tea.”

He held the curtain to the side, happy when she stepped ahead of him. 

Today was the day, after all.

OO

The first thing Belle noticed was things. Shelves stuffed full of boxes and baubles, careworn tools and rolls of fabric. The worktable took up a fair amount of space as well, with an aisle just because enough for a slim man with a cane to walk through.

The second thing she noticed was a bed, no larger than a twin, tucked away in the corner. She bit her lip, filing that detail away for much later.

The sound of Gold stacking what looked like his account books caught her attention. He pulled out the chair that was closest to the heater, beckoning her to sit.

“How do you take your tea?” he asked, opening a cupboard and taking out two cups with matching plates.

“Straight, please,” she said, stuffing her gloves in her coat pocket, before peeling it off and draping it over the back of the chair.

Belle tried to look around with her greedy little eyes, but her attention was drawn to Gold, his fluid movement as he did nothing more than carefully scoop tea into a strainer ball. Even him pouring the hot water into the teapot, an elegant porcelain piece with a long sprout and blue feathering, was captivating. The packet of chocolate chip cookies that were spread out on a plate caught her attention too, albeit for a different reason.

“Am I forgetting something?” he asked, noticing her gaze on him.

“No, no,” Belle said, not looking away. 

In no time at all, the tea was poured, a cookie nibbled, and Mr. Gold was sitting next to her on a stool he pulled out from under the bench.

The silence wasn’t overbearing, but she still looked around a little desperately, trying to find something interesting to say.

“What were you reading?” Gold asked.

“Reading?”

“This morning, when I placed my order. You were holding a book.”

“I was,” she said, feeling warm. It wasn’t from the tea. “It was A Christmas Carol.”

“A classic,” he said, eyebrows raised.

From there it was easy. Talk of the book moved to talk of the movies, turned to which adaptation was the best one. As it turned out, they both agreed that the Muppets took it, hands down.

Belle rubbed the handle of her teacup, the porcelain warm. She felt lightheaded, if she were honest. The dim light of the back room, paired with the quiet burr of the heater, the quiet burr of Gold’s voice, the full force of his attention, finally, after all this time—it was too much. He was gazing at her with a softness in his eyes she’d never seen before, and it was all much too much. She felt she might float away.

So of course, that was when Belle’s coat chimed. She wanted to groan when Gold cleared his throat, looking away.

Pulling out her cell phone, she saw the message was from her father, asking where she was. Oh. Lovely.

“Dad made it home,” she said with forced lightness. 

Gold frowned. “Home?”

“I guess my message didn’t send,” Belle said, knowing full well she hadn’t actually sent one. “Must have, um, the network?” She shrugged, giving up on lying quickly. “But it looks like Dad went straight home after his delivery.”

“I see.”

Her phone pinged with a new message, and her stomach dropped at what it told her. “He says it's really nasty out. Couldn’t get the van all the way up the street, so he legged it the last two blocks.” 

That wasn’t the best news. It was, arguably, quite bad. She could feel her plan backfiring in real time.

“It sounds unsafe, to ask him to come,” Gold said.

The only thing she could give him was a tight smile.

It had been a simple thought, if a little impulsive: pretend that she was stranded here at Gold’s shop, in the middle of heavy snow. When it became apparent her father wasn’t coming, she’d ask oh-so-sweetly for a ride home. Gold was a gentleman. He wouldn’t refuse. That she was sitting nice and toasty in his backroom with no prompting from her proved as much. 

Her plan wouldn’t only have extended her time with Gold, but also been the perfect opening to ask him out to dinner as a thank you.

“Er,” she said, looking lost. Belle hadn’t considered just how bad the storm was.

“Miss French,” he said, clearing his throat again. He had the look of someone trying to deliver bad news as delicately as they could. “I’d drive you home myself, but if your father’s van can’t make it through this snow, my Cadillac certainly won’t, either.”

“I understand.” She had done this to herself. She accepted that. 

“I apologize,” he said, and to his credit sounded like he meant it.

“It’s not your fault,” Belle said, rallying herself. She pushed her chair out, ready to stand up. 

“Where are you going?” Gold asked, alarmed.

“Home. Looks like I’m walking after all.” Belle reached for her coat, surprised when Gold’s hand closed over hers. It was dry and warm; she felt a pleasant thrill shoot through her arm.

“Absolutely not.”

“I’m wearing boots.” 

“I don’t care if you’re wearing skis strapped to rockets, you’re not going out there.”

Belle blinked at him, but didn’t move, not wanting to sever the contact. “What do you suggest then?”

“Staying here,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“For how long?”

“However long it takes for the storm to clear. Mr. Tillman will be out to plow as soon as it stops. I’ll drive you home when it’s safe.”

Taking advantage of Mr. Gold’s goodwill for a cup of tea was one thing. Forcing his hand to shelter her for hours was something else entirely. But there was a part of her, quite a large part, that wanted to press her advantage. And he was offering.

“Are you sure? I’d hate to put you out,” she hedged.

“Miss French, I insist.” He licked his lips, tugging gently on her hand. “It might not be the most comfortable option, but it’s better than getting lost in a blizzard.”

“I guess you’re right,” Belle said, sitting back down.

“Yes. I am,” he sniffed. “Glad we agree.” From the look on his face Gold hadn’t expected such quick acquiescence, but wasn’t going to complain.

“For the record,” she said, smiling. “I’m quite comfortable.”

Surprised pleasure bloomed across his face. “I’m happy you think so."

“I do. Thank you, Mr. Gold, for letting me stay.”

“Think nothing of it,” he said quickly. “You don’t want to be out there.” 

“Really,” Belle agreed. “I mean, how much longer can this last, right?”

It wasn’t the first time either of them alluded to such a thing that night, but it must have been one time too many.

The lights above them flickered for a breath of a moment, then cut out.

Because of course they did.

“Ah,” Belle said into the sudden darkness. She wondered if Gold heard her over his cursing.

“No, don’t move, please, just. Stay there,” Gold said, his chair scraping against the hardwood.

“Wait,” she said, scrambling to turn on the flashlight app on her phone. “Here, so you don’t trip on something.”

In the light, she could see one corner of his mouth lift. “I know my way around the shop, my dear, but thank you.”

He turned, illuminated as he brushed the curtain aside. She heard the tap of his cane as he walked to the front. There was a clock, somewhere to her left, that ticked down the seconds he was gone.

The curtain signaled his return. “The whole of main street is out. Probably most of the town, too.”

Belle made a noise to show she was listening.

“I, um. I think we might be here much longer than a few hours,” he said. Belle hadn’t realized how many whirring, buzzing things there had been in the pawnshop; between the generator, the lights, the space heater, even the mini fridge that Gold had kept the milk. When it all cut out, they weren’t just left in darkness, but complete silence. There was nothing but the sound of their breathing, and the clock.

“Yes,” she said into the stillness. “I think you’re right.”

OO

“Please, just take the cot.”  Gold said for the hundredth time.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Belle said for the hundred and first. “What will people say when they find out you froze to death in your own shop?” 

“I have my coat. It’s not that cold.”

“I can hear your teeth chattering.”

She could do no such thing. Gold sighed, feeling weary. They’d been arguing for the last twenty minutes at least.

It hadn’t taken long for the cold to creep in after the power went out. Bundled up in their coats, they’d used the rest of the hot water for a last bit of tea, and neither one complained about their dinner being the rest of the biscuits. 

When the question of sleeping arrangements arose, Gold thought it was obvious: Belle could take the bed and the nice blankets, and he would watch over her, stalwart and uncomplaining. 

The stubborn woman was hearing none of it.

“I can survive a night in the chair as long as I know you’re taken care of.”

“That’s sweet,” she said with a glare, “but not very practical.”

Practicality had nothing to do with it. The candles flickered on the table. He kept a handful in his cupboards for this very situation, and it helped Belle to save her cell phone battery if they should need it when the service came back on.

He stared at the flames. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’d be much more comfortable if I were warmer,” she shot back. She had at least made it as far as sitting on the cot, boots kicked off and feet tucked underneath her. “We’re small people. We can both fit.” 

They couldn’t, not unless she were wrapped around him like a scarf. It sounded like a dream to Gold, but he wouldn’t fool himself into thinking it was what she actually wanted.

“You’ll sleep easier if it's just you on it.”

“If you refuse to share with me, then I’ll stay at the table with you.” She patted the quilt underneath her. “We can share the blankets. Wear them like cloaks.”

“No.”

“Really, Mr. Gold.” A pout had begun to pull at her lips. It was cute enough to kiss away, which was exactly why he’d stay where he was, thank you. “Think of my toes.”

“Your. . . toes.”

“Yes. They’re so cold right now, I think they might actually fall off. And you’re sitting there, miles away, doing nothing about it, when you could get on the bed with me, and keep me and my toes warm.”

“It might help if you got under the blankets, first.”

“And if they fall off,” she said, ignoring him, “I will sue you for damages.”

That shocked a laugh out of him. “Sue me?”

“What would the town say then, hm? Mr. Gold being taken to court because Belle French can’t wear heels anymore.”

That would be a tragedy all on it’s own. “You seem under the impression I give a damn what the town thinks of me.”

“What about what I think? I’d be very upset with you.”

“Unthinkable,” he murmured. The pout was back, her lip protruding. Gold’s resolve was slipping. It was bloody cold in the shop. His hands felt like ice, he couldn’t feel his feet at all. It would be warmer on the bed with two, he knew that much.

“Please share the bed with me?” Belle asked, going in for the kill. Her eyes shone in the candlelight. “I know I’m asking for a lot, but there’s no sense in either of us being cold tonight.”

Endless moments passed. How did she get her eyes to shine so brightly?

“Alright,” Gold said.

If he thought she was shining before, it paled in comparison to the smile that lit up her face.

She stood when he did, pulling back the blankets. She shimmied out of her coat, too, laying it over.

“We’ll be warmer if we use the coats as extra blankets,” she said innocently, reaching up to help him out of his. “Keeping them on will suck away body heat, not hold it in.” 

While she spread his coat over hers, he removed his suit jacket, laying it over the back of the chair. If they needed it, it was within reach. His belt and shoes soon followed.

When he looked at the cot next, he was greeted with Belle, tucked in and holding one corner of the coverings up, ready for him to slip in next to her.

He could deny her nothing.

After blowing out the candles, he settled in. 

The weight of the blankets was pleasant, especially with the added coats. It couldn’t compare to the weight of Belle, solid and warm.

Gold shifted to his back, Belle happily curling around him, her head pillowed on his shoulder. His arm came around to rest in the hollow of her back.

“Is this okay?” she asked, rubbing her face against him.

Tentatively, Gold ran his hands up her spine. She sighed, snuggled closer.

“It’s perfect,” he decided. Gold didn’t know why he had resisted for so long.

Belle sighed again, deeper, sinking further into his arms. Her leg hooked around his, twining together, her thigh brushing his groin.

Ah, right. That was why.

Maybe he could convince her to go back-to-back. Or he could turn to his side, let her be the big spoon. Now that was an excellent idea.

Her hand, delicate and soft, touched lightly on his shoulder. “Is this still okay?” she asked.

It was agonizing torture. “Yes.”

A pause. “It’s just, you’ve gone rigid.”

He huffed, willing his body to relax. 

“It’s fine,” he said. 

They lay together in the dark, simply breathing each other in. The clock on his workbench dutifully whirred on, and the soft but distinct tickticktick pulled him into a sort of trance.

Belle began to rub circles into the fabric of his shirt and he felt himself sink further. He could smell her floral shampoo. He nuzzled her, gently, hoping she wouldn’t mind.

“Gold?” Belle asked, breath blooming against his neck.

“Hm?” he hummed. His eyes were closed. He didn’t remember doing that.

“What would you say if I told you that skin-to-skin contact is much more efficient to staying warm?”

Her limbs tightened around him as if she was sure he’d leap from the bed and away from her. He didn’t want to do that, though, even as what she was asking sunk in.

Gold swallowed, afraid of being too honest in the dark. “I suppose I would accuse you of trying to seduce me.”

He felt her relieved sigh. “Would it work?”

“You’re doing a great job of it as it is.” 

Her breath staggered. Her hands played with the buttons on his shirt, but didn’t slip them through their eye holes.

“And do you want to be seduced?” Her nose mapped a trail from behind his ear along his jaw, and he was about to combust. 

His answer was to grasp her hair at the base of her neck and pull her towards him. He overshot, his aim terrible in the dark. Her lips landed on the edge of his top lip, brushing the curse of his nose.

Still holding her close, he flipped them, so he was above her. He cradled her head, his hands combing through her lush hair. Oh, yes, much easier to kiss her like this. Belle agreed if her happy moan was anything to go by; that and the way her legs parted, allowing him to rest against her fully.

“I’ll keep you warm,” he whispered into her ear, reveling in her shiver. 

“I want you, Gold.” The words had barely left her mouth before he was kissing her again. 

“Silas,” he said. “My name is Silas.” Belle ran her hands up his arms, her fingers sinking into his hair.

“Silas,” she breathed. “I want you so much.”

He kissed her, hard, tongue demanding entrance that Belle happily granted. 

If the night was spent only kissing and maybe heavy petting, it would have exceeded Gold’s expectations by a considerable degree. Belle clearly had other plans, though, as he found out when her hands touched his bare chest.

He jolted, her cool hands searing as they touched him. The minx was adept at unbuttoning a shirt, he’d give her that. She was also proving quite skilled at undoing his trousers; they pushed them down his thighs together, Gold leaning a little to the side so he could get the leverage to kick them to the end of the cot.

Now that he was bare, it seemed only fair that Belle be next. Gold grasped the end of her sweater, pushing it up, up, up. When he threw it down to the floor, she hissed at the cold air as it made its way into their cocoon. It was worth it for the wide expanse of warm skin he now had to discover. Fuck, she was soft.

Gold’s hands clutched at her sides as he mouthed her breasts, the nipples already tight buds.

“Silas,” she moaned, thrusting her chest up. While his mouth was occupied, he peeled her leggings down as far as he could reach without outright sitting up. She took the hint, kicking them to the end of the bed to join his trousers.

Gold adjusted the blankets, making sure they were covered, and that Belle was warm underneath him. She panted, breath heavy as he kissed across her collar bone. He trailed down to the top of her chest, mouthing at the hollow at the swell of her breasts while his hand trailed to her cunt.

Her core was molten.

“Fuck,” Gold hissed, feeling the wet heat of her.

“Please, Silas” Belle said, bucking her hips into his hand. “Fuck me.”

Cock in hand, he guided himself into her. If he thought she was hot on his fingers, it didn’t come close to her wrapped around his prick

“Oh, Belle,” he moaned, lost.

They set a slow hard rhythm; not wanting to displace the blankets, Belle angled her hips up, cradling Gold while he rocked in and out.

Pulse by pulse, breath by breath, he had never felt so good. Belle raised her knees higher, allowing more of him to sink inside her. Her breath hitched when he hit a good spot. He hit it again, harder.

Silas kissed her along her neck, wet sucking kisses that landed in time with his hips. He wished he could see her, wanted to memorize the look on her face and he gave this to her. The dark brought into focus the sure touch of their wandering hands, the vice of her cunt as she took him. 

“Are you close, love?” he asked, gaining speed, his thrusts becoming shallow. His hand sunk down to just above where they joined, rubbing her clit as she moaned in his ear.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she said, words breathy. She kissed his jaw, hands weaving into his hair, pulling as she clenched—as she came—as her legs wrapped around him beseeching him to follow her.

He could deny her nothing.

OO

She woke in the night, the room dark and cold. Silas was a furnace next to her, his arm stretched across her ribcage keeping her anchored. She smiled, wiggling against him, relishing being so close to him.

Silas’ heart was steady and strong beneath her ear. Sweet music. Belle turned her head to kiss him there, over his heart. She trailed her nose down, to the side, finding his nipple. She kissed that, too. Then closed her mouth over it, sucking.

Silas grunted, but didn’t wake. A final lick, and Belle moved downwards, further into their nest.

Boney and warm; his hip, she thought. Belle kissed it, regardless.

Silas hummed, shifting slightly. Belle kissed him again, moving further down, and a little to the side, until her lips met with a wiry patch of hair. 

“Belle?” he asked, voice muffled and heavy with sleep.

In answer she licked him, just over his pubris. The muscles jumped, and she felt his shudder.

“Belle,” he moaned. The sound pulled at something deep in her belly. “Please.”

“Hm?” she asked, kissing back the way she came, away from his curls.

His moan this time was agonized. “Your mouth, sweetheart. Please.”

“My mouth?” she asked, innocently, nibbling on the spot just below his tummy, sucking the skin into her mouth.

“Fuck,” he said, hips jutting.

Belle licked him. Another kiss, another suck. She breathed him deep, the whole of him. That she could make out her own scent dried on his skin had heat pooling low in her belly. They tasted so good together.

“Belle, please,” Gold tried again. “Put your mouth on my cock.”

She hadn’t expected him to ask. In reward, she stopped her teasing, using her hand to grasp and position him before taking him past her lips. 

Their moans mixed together; his from the sweet heat, hers from the perfect way he filled her. What a discovery, that they fit together perfectly no matter the circumstance.

OO

Next when she woke, the lights were still off, the cold no less harsh as it nipped at her nose. She could see the morning sun peak through the single window signaling a new day and a break in the storm.

Belle tried not to grumble as she rolled over, burrowing under the blankets and pressing her cold nose into Silas’ chest.

He shook with a silent laugh, and she wondered how long he had been awake.

“Good morning,” he said, pressing a kiss to her crown. His voice was scratchy in that unused-sleepy way, and it made Belle’s toes curl.

She could get used to waking up to this. She wanted to get used to it very much.

A buzzing from the table made her pause. She turned her head, sure she knew the source.

“Your cell phone,” Silas confirmed. “It keeps going off.” 

She kissed his chest, right above his heart. “You didn’t wake me.”

“You’d have answered it if I had.”

Belle made a noise of agreement, even as she made no move to leave the cot. Or more accurately, leave the circle of Silas’ arms, which were wrapped around her snugly, one hand rubbing patterns into her lower back. 

“Someone will be by to dig us out, now that it’s morning,” he said.

He sounded less than pleased, which pulled a smile from her. She kissed his cheek. “Thanks for letting me stay.”

His response was immediate. “Of course.” He wet his lips. “Perhaps, ah.” His hair was tangled on the pillow, and there was a nice hickey forming on the curve of his neck, another one just under his collarbone.

He looked ravaged, ruined; very thoroughly and happily debauched.

“Perhaps?” Belle hooked her leg around his thigh, her heel touching the back of his knee. She felt his cock stir in interest.

“Perhaps, I mean, if you wanted to…”

Belle bit her lip. They were naked, still wrapped around each other after a night of the best sex she had ever had, and he was too shy to ask her out on a date.

It really put her stargazing into perspective. They’d work on it, she decided. They had the time.

“I’d like to do this again,” she told him, catching his eye. “In less pressing circumstances." 

He rubbed the tip of his nose against hers, voice sweet and hopeful. “Let me make you dinner.”

Belle had only just pressed her lips to his when her phone gave a particularly judgmental vibration. She left the blankets long enough to snatch it from the table, before she tucked herself back next to Silas, who welcomed her back happily. 

She awakened the screen to see she had 7% battery left. Just enough to tell her father she was safe and warm, and that she’d be home in the afternoon after plenty of time for the snow to settle and Tillman to plow. 

And a few other things she chose not to mention.

[noaltbruh]

Bucci gang and Christmas time!

Do I know we're in the middle of Summer? Yes.

Is that going to stop me from writing headcanons about my favourite characters celebrating my favourite Holiday? No.

(Just a side note: most of the headcanons I write take place in an 'Everyone survives universe', keep this particularly in mind while reading this post)

Enjoy! 🎄

Giorno! 🐞

-Giorno has never celebrated Christian once in his entire life. To be honest...He almost feels a sense of spite thinking about this Holiday, because his parents used to neglect him even more during this time of the year. They would spend entire days out, going party with their friends, buying presents for other people, and wouldn't bother in the slightest to decorate the house with a single light

-For a long time, all he could think about when this festivity came into his mind was the dull plate of cold food his parents would leave him to heat in the microwave, but that wasn't nearly as freezing as the feeling of sorrow that filled his heart. He would sit by the window, watching other people having fun together, while he was all alone in that gloomy, small apartment.

-Can you even imagine how he felt when he first celebrated Christmas with the gang?

-He failed to understand why pretty much everyone was so exited, most of them weren't even Christian. He thought he didn't even deserve to participate, not after all the 'morally questionable' things he does as the Don of Passione

-But it didn't take much for the gang to realize how Giorno felt about Christmas, and they were determined to prove him that he had gotten the wrong idea about this Holiday

-When he noticed that he others were trying to drag him in the 'Christmas spirit', he immediately protested, claiming that he had too many errands to attend to

-Needless to say, they didn't buy it

-Eventually, he gave up, accepting to give this festivity a chance, if that would have made them happy. After all, they've been trying so hard to lift his spirit, he would have felt ungrateful rejecting them even now

-He helped with the preparations in any way he could, from decorating the house to buying gifts for everyone.

-What he hadn't realized, is how much effort and care he was putting in everything he was doing. It wasn't something he agreed to solely to please them, he was genuinely enjoying it, he wanted to be a part of this, even though he failed to fully understand it.

-His favourite part was filling the house and the back garden with lights and any other sort of decorations: candles, wreaths, festoons, music boxes, or just other ornaments in general

-When the 25th of December finally arrived, Giorno was ecstatic. Seeing his entire family having so much fun together, opening presents, admiring the lights, watching cheesy Christmas movies while wrapped up in warm blankets, it felt so...Simple, but so reassuring, he couldn't even put into words how he felt

-His favourite present was a huge encyclopedia about nature. He always reads it before going to bed, it helps him fall asleep faster and more peacefully

-Like I mentioned in my previous post, I think Giorno really likes anything that tastes even slightly sweet, so he absolutely adores Christmas treats! Pandori, panettoni, tronchetti, hot chocolate...He loves all of them!

-He can't deny that he felt really bad when they had to take off all the decorations, and while he wouldn't openly say it, he wishes for Christmas to come back again as soon as possible

Bruno! 🤐

-Bruno is the second most exited in the gang for Christmas! (Can you already tell who's the first? :) ) He's the only one, however, that cares about the religious aspect of it, which is particularly important in a country like Italy.

-It's his favourite Holiday, and it was considered the most important festivity in his family, since all of his relatives were Christians. Besides, he had always been personally attached to it, as it was one of the very few times where he could see his mom, which used to spoil him in whatever way she could

-He goes to Church either very early on Christmas Morning, while everyone is still asleep, or at exactly midnight between the 24th and the 25th. Most of the people that go at times like these are old grannies, but Bruno doesn't care, he thinks it's cute actually ^^

-As he was raised in a relatively humble environment, having the chance to celebrate Christmas in quite the...Extravagant way, after joining Passione, almost felt out of place for him

-That doesn't mean, however, that he doesn't care about the 'materialistic' part of the Festivity, because he sees it as a way to rest his head for a while and spend some quality time with the ones he cares about

-His role as the mom of the group is also remarkably present during the preparations. Bruno is the one that mostly takes care of cooking for everyone, and he enjoys it a lot! His favourite part is preparing sweets of any kind, because they allow him to experiment a lot and always try new recipes

-Every member of the gang has to participate in one way or another to the preparations, and Bruno is the one that coordinates the whole thing

-Bucciarati always gets everyone the best presents. He starts thinking about what to get for them a month before the others, so that he never finds himself in a rush and can take all the time he needs to find the perfect gift

-He also LOVES making and receiving hand-made presents, he can feel all the effort and love that was put into them, and it just feels more thoughtful than something that was bought, no matter how expensive it may have been

-Bruno is that sort of person that prefers to spend Christmas without doing anything particularly exciting, just enjoying the calm and warm atmosphere that fills the house

-However, Bucciarati also loves to go for a long walk down the streets, admiring the lights all around the town, bringing along anyone in the gang that wishes to join him

Mista! 🔫

-While the manga states that Mista believes in a 'God', I don't think he believes in Jesus, Holy Mary, and the rest. He used to go to Church when he was little, but mostly because his parents forced him to, he didn't actually care

-Because of this, he sees Christmas as a materialistic Festivity, but that doesn't mean he's not excited for it. He thinks that it's the perfect excuse for everyone to just chill for a little while and have fun

-Unlike Bruno and Giorno, who prefer to just relax at home without doing anything that requires a lot of energy, Mista is always looking forward to something exiting to do during this time of the year

-Do you want an example? Ice skating! This boy is incredibly good at skating, and he constantly flexes on the entire gang how good he is

-He's that type of person that forgets to buy presents for the gang, and only remembers at the last minute. He's lost count of how many times he had to fight with another costumer because they wanted to buy the same thing, and there was only one left

-Once, a dude was so insistent that he had to pull out his gun to scare him away. Guess what? It worked. Nobody in that shop ever dared to argue with him again

-"Get your damn hands off this videogame, I have a seventeen years old little brother that won't talk to me for two weeks if I don't buy this for him!"

-Aside from getting gifts for Narancia, Trish and the rest, he also gives something to each one of the sex pistols. It's mostly food, but they don't really seem to mind

-Even in this time of the year, Mista is still hot. While everyone is wearing sweaters, long trousers and coats, this madman is still wearing shorts. Trish constantly complains about it, saying that he's going to catch a bad cold, if not worse, if he keeps on dressing like this. He never actually listens to her though

-Like I mentioned early, everyone in the gang has to take care of the preparations in different ways. Mista, together with Fugo, has to buy all the ingredients Bruno needs. It may seem like an easy task, but it isn't; friendly reminder that they have to buy enough stuff for seven people, most of them with very different tastes

-He often gets fed up with waiting in line, and just takes everything he needs and leave without paying. Nobody has the courage to complain, they know better than messing around with a guy like that

-He will most likely steal some of Abbacchio's wine and get drunk. He usually doesn't like alcohol very much, but damn does Abba have good taste in wines

Narancia! 🍊

-You won't find anyone that loves Christmas more than this cute little bundle of sunshine!

-His mother always loved Christmas, and wanted her child to appreciate this Festivity as much as her. Since his parents weren't particularly rich, he always celebrated in a relatively simple way, but his mamma always managed to find a way to make every Christmas different and unique. His father never complained about Mela's excitement, but he barely ever participated in whatever the two of them were organizing. Still, Nari didn't mind, the woman's excitement and joy were successfully passed to her kid

-After she died, for a couple of years, he stopped celebrating Christmas. Not because he didn't want to, he just...Couldn't. His father and him were strangers at this point, and his 'friends' didn't care about it either, they actually thought that it was a stupid thing

-When he finally had the chance to celebrate again after joining Passione, Narancia swore that he wouldn't have let anything, and I say ANYTHING, stop him from enjoying every moment of this Holiday ever again

-Since there are a couple of 'Grinches' in the house, Narancia thinks it's his duty to cheer everyone up, showing them why he loves Christmas so much

-"Nobody's gonna be left out, nope, not on my watch! We're all gonna have a great time, whether you want it or not!"

-Nari already starts to get exited for this Festivity in the moment November arrives, there's nothing he looks forward to more, not even his birthday

-When Bruno finally mentions that it's time to start organizing everything, Narancia jumps from his seat, and it's one of the very few occasions where he listens carefully without spacing out

-Just like Giorno, this baby boy loves decorating the house, they make an awesome team together!

-"Giorno! Look look look...You gotta see this!" "What is it, Narancia?" "THIS SNOW GLOBE! ISN'T IT JUST SOOOOOOOO CUTE?" -"Hehe...I suppose so"

-You may think that, similar to Mista, he forgets to buy presents, but that's not the case! Narancia wants to surprise the entire gang with his awesome gifts, and when they think he can't find anything better...Boom! He slaps an even more amazing present in their faces (not literally, of course)

-Even though he can't cook, he's more than willing to help Bruno with decorating the sweets, filling them with frosting, cream, small fruits, chocolate chips...Anything Bucciarati says he can use, really

-He also loves to go admiring the lights with the latter, always pointing out everything he sees

-"GAAAAASP...AN ENTIRE TREE MADE OF LIGHTS? AM I DREAMING?" "I'd say it's real, would you like to take a picture next to it?" "Yes, please!"

-Every year he wishes for the city to finally be covered in snow, but sadly, when you live in a hot country like Italy, that's most likely going to remain a fantasy

-He really likes wearing those oversized, horrible Christmas-themed sweaters, and genuinely thinks they're cute. He hopes for someone to wear them with him, but nobody ever seems to accept

-He tried convincing Fugo once, it uhm...Didn't go too well. But one of these years, he's going to get Giorno to wear one, he's sure of it!

-Nari still believes in Santa, and Bruno will personally ari the crap out of anyone who dares to tell him that he's not real. He leaves some cookies and milk in front of the tree in the living room, saying that he's going to stay awake the entire night to finally see him. He always ends up falling asleep...So one of the members of the gang has to carry him over to bed

-During Christmas lunch, he will 100% sure overeat, to the point where he can barely stand up from the chair, but still denying verything and acting like his stomach isn't about to explode

Fugo! 🍓

-Similar to Giorno, Fugo doesn't have any particular happy memories of Christmas from his childhood

-His entire family used to reunite to celebrate together. At first sight, it seemed like nothing was wrong: everyone was having fun with their loved ones, but for Fugo...It just felt so fake

-He knew that in the moment his relatives left, his parents would have gone back to their strict and distant behavior. Even during this time of the year, they still pressured him, just in a softer way. They wouldn't let him rest until he finished all the homework his teachers gave for Christmas Holidays, they wouldn't let him play with his other cousins, saying that he was too mature, and the list went on

-The only thing that comforted him was his grandmother, whom the rest of the family only invited for pity. She was the only one that would actually give Fugo something a child would genuinely like, like a puzzle or a plushie

-He was the first member to join Bucciarati's squad, so I'm guessing that they must have spent one Christmas together, just the two of them

-At first, the blonde tried to convince Bruno to just leave him alone, inviting him to celebrate with his relatives, saying that he would have been okay on his own

-Obviously, a good mom would never leave his child, so he declined his propose. For some reason...The man's behavior reminded Fugo a lot of his grandmother, and that was the first Christmas this Strawberry boy cherished in his heart

-While they mostly kept it to something simple, when the others arrived things started to get more and more loud, especially with Narancia

-Even though he would rather just spend the day relaxing at home with something warm to drink, he always ends up being dragged into whatever Nari and Mista are planning on doing. He fell like...10 times when they went ice skating together

-Fugo still acts kinda moody towards this time of the year, as his pride is too high for him to admit that he likes something so 'sentimental'

-He's also super done with having to go shopping with Mista to buy groceries, but he has to help in one way or another

-"Alright...Mista, Fugo, you two will buy all the ingredients I'm going to need"

"Urgh...It's cold outside, and I don't want to wait in line...Do I really have to?"

"Oh? Would you rather setting up the decorations with Giorno and Narancia?"

Cut to Nari already covered in lights while giggling like a kid

"...Just give me the list already"

"Wow, rude"

-Speaking of which, Fugo's immune system is not uhm...The best, and this means that he's always super scared of catching a cold in this period. While he doesn't show it, it'd pain him a lot to ruin everyone else's fun with his sickness

-He constantly wears super heavy clothes, even when they're at home, with all the windows closed and the wood burning in the fire place

-He always looks like a potato sack in the photos, but that doesn't really bother him a lot

-He isn't very good when it comes to making presents. He tries, and remembers to buy them on time, but he's not a particularly creative boy. He's that kind of person that would mostly just buy clothes or relatively 'simple' things, not that I can really blame him...That's pretty much all he received when he was a child

Abbacchio! ⏮️

-Oh boy...OH BOY! The Grinch himself, the Christmas hunter, the gloomy Lord in person

-I like to think that Abbacchio was one of the very few very people in the gang that actually grew up with a loving family, so he was more than happy to celebrate Christmas when he was a child

-One year, his parents gave him a police officer hat as a present, and he refused to take it off for days, even though it was obviously too big for him

-This means that unlike Giorno and Fugo, whose reason for disliking Christmas goes back to this childhood, his hate towards it is much more recent and somewhat less 'justified'

-After the loss of his colleague, he became apathetic to almost everything around him, and this Holiday was not spared. It was quite the opposite, to be honest

-He can't stand the whole cheerful and happy atmosphere, he thinks it's suffocating and makes him sick. Plus, "having a bunch of brats jumping up and down, singing lame carols and decorating the house like it's some birthday party" doesn't help

-Despite Narancia's efforts, the only one who can really get him out of this mood (pun intended) is Bucciarati

-"Just stop it already, Bruno. Go have fun with the children, how many times do I have to tell you that I don't care about any of this?"

-"And how many times do I have to tell you that you're not going to get rid of me that easily?"

-"...Whatever"

-Honestly, what he likes the most about this festivity is that he has an excuse for getting drunk af without anyone complaining. He takes the fanciest and most expensive bottle of wine he has and drinks all of it in less than 10 minutes

-The gang even bets money on how long it's going to take him to finish the whole thing, either Mista or Narancia usually win, since the others tend to underestimate Abbacchio's alcoholic "abilities"

-He puts minimal effort, mostly just because he's forced to, in buying presents for the squad. He's also super biased and obviously plays favourites, even though he would never admit it

-He'd buy something super special for Bruno, try a bit harder to pick up something for Narancia and Trish and take the first thing he sees for Fugo and Mista. As for Giorno...He literally just buys some coal, writes 'Buon Natale' on a piece of paper and slaps it on the carbon

-He has a relatively simple job regarding the preparations for Holiday time, which is...

-"Very well, Abbacchio...You have to pick up the tree from the basement and bring it to the living room"

"Why me? That thing is so fu***ng heavy"

"Exactly, do you want somebody else to lift it up and break their spine? I'd rather not spend Christmas night at the hospital"

-"Sigh...Alright, just because YOU ask"

-Slowly, but surely, he's learning to love Christmas again, though he will still keep on acting grumpy and complain every time he has the chance to

Trish! 🎙

-This girl is ready to brighten up all the festivities! When it's time to have fun, Trish doesn't hesitate even for a moment!

-Similar to Narancia and Bruno, her mother couldn't afford anything super expensive or exciting during this time of the year (taking care of a child on your own is no easy job), but Trish never dared to complain. She was aware of the sacrifices her mother was making to make sure that her child had everything she needed, she wouldn't have thrown a tantrum for something superficial

-Donatella would always give her a new doll as a present, and she would play with it for entire hours without getting tired. Her favourite one was, of course, a blonde doll dressed up as a pop star

-Just like her daughter, she was extraordinarily good when it came to choosing what to wear, which means that when Trish entered her 'teen phase', the woman would gift her a dress instead. Needless to say, the girl loved it every time!

-Speaking of which, after becoming part of the gang, her favourite "Christmas activity", if it counts, was going shopping! I mean...Do you think a person like her would miss out on the Sales? Please

-She doesn't like going on his own though, and brings along somebody with her. That 'somebody's ends up being Mista most of the times, which is literally just DRAGGED out of his room to the shopping centre

-Trish is that sort of person (I mean...I don't know if that's a thing in other countries, but it's pretty much a meme here in Italy) who insists that she's on a diet even during the Holiday season, but every single time someone offers something to eat, she replies with "Whatever, I'll just start next week" or "I'll start after New Year".

-Before she knows, it's the 8th of January and she hasn't been on a diet even for a day.

-One day, she'd like to travel around the world and see how they celebrate this Festivity in other countries. As you can already tell, she valued the materialistic part of Christmas than the 'spiritual' one, and she knows that in a lot of places it isn't considered a religious Holiday in the first place

-One thing she dislikes is how she's forced to wear super heavy and long clothes, she hates them and insists that they make her look fat (which is absolutely not true)

-She LOVES taking pictures of everything! Food? Yes. Decorations? Yes. Gifts? Yes. Just photos in general where the seven of them are together? Y E S!

-Some of them try to run away when they realize that Trish is about to start a freaking photoshoot, but their struggles are always vain, especially since she has Bruno's support

-"Come oooooon, just one last picture!" "Trish, for the love of God, the lasagna is getting cold" "So what? Microwaves exist for a reason" "We are NOT going to ruin all this food by putting it in the Microwave!"

-Being the singer of the group, she takes any opportunity she has to sing a Christmas-themed song, both Carols and modern/pop songs like 'All I want for Christmas'. Half of the times she doesn't even understand the lyrics, but that's not going to stop her for sure

-She definitely doesn't forget to buy presents for the others. After she goes shopping so much, how could she? Most people think it's lame to receive a clothes as a present, but we're taking about Trish here!

-She knows very well how every member likes to dress, and she surely doesn't have problems with her budget. She will pick something for each one of her companions even better than what they would take for themselves

-Lastly, her 'task' is to decorate the tree, which is one of the longest assignments that also require a lot of attention and precision. Why, you may ask? Because that thing is freaking huge, that's why. Giorno and Narancia will probably help her out once they're done with their own decorations, the three of them have a lot of fun together!

[thevoilinauttheory]

🌟 …someone my muse trusts.

[ This is a long one! I had this really great idea for it, and I wanted so much to do this. So... only the first portion will be posted here, and the rest (including an answer from Danny at the bottom!) under the cut~ thank you so much for the ask @lukawarrioroflight! ]

[ “I trust you”, he was told. He had to turn to make certain he heard that correctly. No one had ever said that to him - to his face, anyways. Why should he be trusted? He never gave his name, he never took off his mask… there was nothing about him TO trust. “Lead on.” The rain had made the air grow cold, and being drenched did not aid in this. Danny barely felt it, his clothes often too warm - he had offered it earlier, with it denied at first. “Your coat grows more tempting,” “Ain’t no shame in askin’ fer it.” Was his response, and he pulled robes up over his head to hand over. Perhaps it was the comfort he felt in his presence, or it simply slipped his mind. His arms free to show, with no coverings left on the slithering vines that made them up. But… there was no staring in response, there were no comments, in fact, it was as if they didn’t exist at all. Still, yet, he apologized for them. “Ain’t too much a pleasant sight, but… kinda strange y’haven’t even stared. Tha’s usually th’response I get.” “Well. That’s awfully damn impolite.” Never had he felt so comforted by just one sentence. ]

[ After he had managed to shoo off the offending treant, Danny offered to carry him. A twisted ankle was no good to walk on. That offer was met with a smile, skeptical, at best - though upon scooping him up into his arms, he could only feel the heat filling his ears. He went to the safest place he could think of - his home. “Yer welcome t’stay ‘ere s’long as that takes.” He had laid him down on his bed to work on making that injury more comfortable, there wasn’t much else he could do besides offer some ice crystals to help the swelling. Danny turned to start up a pot of tea on the fire - and that was when his own wound was addressed. “When do you think you might take care of that?” He asked him. He never really thought about it - though when he did, that’s when the pain set in. It hurt worse when he tried to pry his robes off. “Sss.. ah. Ow. The back's always th'worst... would it, uh... be too much trouble t'ask y't'help me out in cleanin' it?" This was probably the first time he had asked for help from him - he never wanted to be a bother or a burden, and usually handled his wounds by himself or with his mentor, but… there was something about him that made it easier to ask. Even if it was embarrassing. When his wounds had been properly cleaned and dressed, he stood again to retrieve something from a nearby desk. "...I, uh. Made y'somethin'. T'thank y'fer helpin' me all th'time.” Inside was a good attempt at making a sweater, and a carved wooden mask as gold as his own. That’s when he took his off, for the first time. ]

[ Danny rushed about creation trying to find him - checking every inn in the Shroud, even when he had to throw on a new disguise to get into Gridania. His excitement was met with less so from him - and: “...it ain't hard t'see yer troubled. Guess that's why I wanna help so bad. I like seein' y'smile, 'n if I can help y'in any way, I want ta." He shook his head. "...I'll keep th'snowstorms at bay, if I can." "...the weather's fine. Out there, anyway -- I know that. But I keep... I keep waiting for the clear blue to go that terrible steel-grey color, and the wind to start howling." Danny had meant it in a metaphorical way, to try and keep him warm - comfortable. Maybe even safe. He carefully pulled him into his lap, holding him close, giving him a shoulder to lay against. He didn’t know what to do. For him, the silence was excruciating. All he could think was what he could say to make all of this go away - to make everything better - as unrealistic as it was. All he could think of… was what someone in his family would do for him. Sing.

"Loo-li, loo-li, loo-li lai lay..."

He was more than embarrassed to do so, his voice was soft, it shook with his heavy heartbeat. He had a hard time breathing, even. And yet… he still continued to sing, and since he had not heard any criticism, he kept going. Soon, it became easier. He inhaled sharply, and let out his voice as clear as it could be; without hindrance, this time. ]

[ Vined fingers intertwined with his - and then some, as some of the vines on his arm seemed to just... grow like a magnet towards him and latching into whatever they could grab a hold of. He enjoyed his presence more than any other - everything he did was unconscious. Even when the previous events had made them tense, he still leaned against Danny’s shoulder. That small bit of contact… it made his heart jump. That he could be this solid pillar - or perhaps that's just what he wanted to be for him. The shoulder he literally and figuratively could lean on. His thoughts were going every which way - there was so much he wanted to say to him. So much he wanted to do. It may not have been the right time, but… he pulled his mask off and near slammed it on the table. "No. No, no. Not gonna do this t'm'self. Puttin' th'foot down thoughts, y'can't keep doin' this t'me." Now or never, he told himself; and so whether he was prepared or not, or even wanted it or not; Danny leaned himself down to press their lips together in an awkward mess of a kiss. He paid no mind to the publicity of his face; he had forgotten, actually. Part of him hoped it'd last forever like this.

"S'Danny. M'name."

-

"Come, sit down. You're fretting over my scratches, but..." He let the rest go unsaid: perhaps it was sufficiently obvious. "Y'don't gotta... S'fine, really." Danny pulled his tattered robes over his head - he already knew the more he griped the worse it got. "...I know I don't have to. But have you considered that I *want* to?" No, he hadn’t considered that. Why would anyone want to? He hated dumping his mess on others, but… no, he wasn’t going to argue. If he wanted to help, he’d trust that he wasn’t lying to him. There was no one else he would trust with that. He smiled at the thought. "... Alrigh', alrigh', y'win... I get it." More flowers sprouted from his arms the more he helped with his injuries - again. But… out of impulse, he bent to kiss one of the nodding flowers. It caught him off guard, causing him to shiver in response. The flowers, however, seemed to shrink back into his arms slowly... only for them to grow again. He wanted to know what they meant, curious as to what emotions where causing them. "...Over'n over, so loud, they tear inta m'head; 'I love ya', I love ya', I love ya'.' Jus' takin' over everythin'... I wanted it t'stop... it was hurtin', m'head, m'chest, everythin'." He admitted it - it almost hurt to do so. To think of it possibly being rejected… "And what is it you want...?" The question might have been purely teasing, were it not for the way he held Danny's gaze. "T' hold ya'... I always kept m'distance. I couldn't handle gettin' close, but... now I jus'... want y'near me." ]

[ He had come at the behest of Maximiloix - to see Danny after his disappearance a week ago. So many flowers grew from him - anger, betrayal, surprise… hope. A blanket of snowdrops grew upon the floor, crawling towards him at the door. He knelt, brushing his fingertips lightly over the nodding white flowers at his feet. The feeling of his fingers on those flowers made him let out a heavy sigh - filled with some sense of relief. Calm. He swallowed. "All I needed was to know was that you are alive," "...I missed y'a lot, I want y't'be 'ere. I jus'... can't let y'see me. Not like this." His voice cracked for a moment - it sounded like he were about to cry, if not holding himself back from doing so. "I missed y'a lot," he repeated. "I don'... know what t'do. I... I want y'close, it'd... help a lot. But I don'... y'won't like it. Disappear fer a few days, then lettin' y'down in the process."

"...there have been rumors," Aafter a pause, he spoke. "That the Wailers found you, that they---" It didn't bear saying aloud. "I didn't believe it. I couldn't."

"...M'sorry... I didn't want y't'worry and I went'n worried y'more... I'll..." The leaves settled, slowly withdrawing. A single stalk of violet hyacinths sprouted beside Danyell. "I won't do that 'gain... I'll come right t'ya'... I don' want rumors t'give y'news. Least, if I do die, Master Voilinaut would let y'know." "I don't mind the worrying itself," he added quietly. "It is an unavoidable part of loving someone, I think."

Those words shocked him into some stupor. Maybe it wasn’t the first admission of it, but it just hit him here. Harder than it had before. He built up the courage to step out from behind the screen, to show himself and the injury that started it all. From the broken side of the mask bloomed three roses, one crimson, one orange, one yellow. Willow branches hung from his eye - as if crying - pressed against the flat leaves of mint which covered the burn scars on that side of his face. "Completin' th'image, I am." He tried to laugh it off - it fell into a melancholic tone.

"Well, is it strange to find it beautiful, too?" He murmured with hesitation. When he looked up at him, Danny could feel unspoken words hanging there, waiting to be heard. But there was nothing. “...jus' a little strange." Danny smiled against the top of his head, then lifted again to look at him. He could feel the heaviness, but gods, everything felt so much better when he was around. “Seemed like y'had somethin' t'say." His eyes darted over Danny's face for a long moment, as if to reassure himself. "...gods be good, I thought I was going to lose my mind," he whispered, "thinking I might have lost you." "..." There was still silence from him - not a common occurrence, being at a loss for words. "Won't happen 'gain... promise. If I gotta hide... I won't hide from ya'." After gentle kisses and gentler touches, he pressed their foreheads together with a soft smile.

"Can't help it, jus' like bein' close t'ya'. Never had anyone as comfortin','' a pause, before he admitted: "as safe, before." ]

“Aye, ‘ve got someone I trust. More than anyone, actually. Master Voilinaut says that I shouldn’t, that M’askin’ fer ‘nother heartbreak. But… at th’same time, ‘e seems… proud? Regardless. Danyell’s been there with me, goin’ through everythin’- ‘e’s comfortin’. I guess only strangers would know th’sunny outside, n’while I believe there’s still sun on the inside, s’like there’s a huge wall o’ ice in between there… n’, n’ I don’t mind it. Sure, it can be scary at times, but… s’kinda groundin’ fer me. ‘E don’t get mad, when M’ all over th’place; ‘r upset if somethin’ comes outta m’mouth wrong. Errr, except that one time, but it was an outlier, ‘cause I didn’t really *say* anythin’ wrong - but I did *do* somethin’ wrong, ‘r well, not wrong, but definitely bad timin’.”

“Anyways, it was a slow process, I think. Over years n’moons. It was worth it, though. I don’t think I coulda asked fer anyone better n’my life. ‘E’s made me consider a lot, ‘bout everythin’. ‘Bout people, ‘bout th’Wood, ‘bout me. I said it ‘fore, I’ll say it ‘gain: I’ll follow ‘im t’th’ends o’ th’world if I gotta.”

[ And a tag for @renofmanyalts for their character, Danyell Dwynwen! ]

[sodalitefully]

Santa Slash is coming to town...

This fic is the Christmas-themed spiritual successor to my Easter Bunny AU.  Special thanks to @slashscowboyboots for supporting all my holiday nonsense! 

Four snapshots from Slash’s Christmas prep marathon through the years:

🎄🎄🎄🎄

Jingle bells.  

Fucking jingle bells.

There were FIFTEEN of them on the stupid-fucking-candy-colored costume he had to wear at this godforsaken excuse for a seasonal job.  “Earn some extra cash,” they said.  “It’s easy, you barely have to do anything,” they said.  "You'll be perfect, you already look the part!" they said.  

"They are about to find a size-ten jingle-toed bootie up their ass,” Axl said – to himself, as he rushed into the storage room turned "dressing room" and buttoned up his itchy red and green vest with one hand while sipping an Orange Julius from the food court with the other.  

“Hey, Axl! You’re barely late today, awesome!”

And then there was this weirdo.

Axl could not for the life of him explain why a shopping mall in Indiana elected to hire a skinny dude in his 20s with a dark complexion and a nose ring to portray Saint Nick himself, but whatever the reason, Axl was stuck working with this fruitcake until Christmas Day.  Sure Slash was nice enough (oh yeah, and his name was Slash, or at least that's how he introduced himself without offering any explanation or even a last name), but he was way too enthusiastic about getting paid minimum wage to let strange kids sit in his lap at a grimy old shopping mall.

Uh, not in a weird way, Slash was good with the kids, really.  But sometimes... it seemed like he was taking his role a little too seriously.  

"How come you don't have a beard?" the first customer of Axl's shift, a little girl in a Tweety bird sweater and blonde pigtails, asked suspiciously.

"That's a good question,” Slash said, scratching at his bare chin. The neck of his Motörhead Beyond the Threshold of Pain Tour T-shirt was visible over the faux fur collar of the Santa costume, and his shiny black boots clearly came from a military surplus store. “I get asked that a lot but the truth is, it just isn't a flattering look, trust me.  I tried it once, and the elves could barely look at me in the eye." To Axl’s incredulity, the girl actually accepted that answer.  "Now tell me, what would you like for Christmas this year, sweetheart?"

As usual, Axl tuned out at this point.  Fake a smile for the overprotective parents, take the painfully awkward commemorative photograph, try not to look like he would rather die than hear Slash try to gently explain that Santa will probably not be delivering a pony this year one more damn time, rinse and repeat – until about an hour later, when the unthinkable happened.

The less said about about the incident, the better.  Suffice to say, one of the darling angels tossed his Christmas cookies, and some of the resulting mess wound up soaking into the front of Axl’s elf costume.  As if he needed another reason to hate his job; this was just adding insult on top of injury (that is, the injury to Axl’s pride as a result of being forced to wear the most ridiculous-looking costume he’s ever had the misfortune of laying eyes on). 

“That’s it. I quit.”  He grabbed the elf cap off his head and slammed it on the ground, then stormed through the exit gate past the sign wishing customers a "Holly Jolly Holiday Season," the bells on his costume ringing merrily as he stomped his feet.

“Hey, wait!”

“No,” Axl growled, but he did turn around to look back at Slash, still sitting in the plastic candy-cane throne unbothered by the mess or the sniffling child now mostly placated by a peppermint candy.  "What."  

Slash offered him a bright, beguiling smile.

"What do you want for Christmas, Axl?" 

-----

Nothing said "holiday cheer" like wandering the tinsel-adorned labyrinth that was a Walmart superstore a week before Christmas, with Paul McCartney's "Wonderful Christmastime" echoing through the tinny PA system and surrounded by other last-minute vultures hopelessly scavenging the picked-over aisles.  

In Izzy's defense, he actually finished all his shopping early this year, for once.  But then his two little brothers begged him to drive them around town to find the perfect gift for a girl at school that they apparently both had a crush on, and like a fool he agreed. 

He was regretting it now.  Anything would be better than subjecting himself to nearly an hour of top-40 Christmas music.  The jingle bells were jingling, the carolers were caroling, the B-list pop stars were spitting out god-awful covers of Christmas classics, and don’t even get him started on the commercials. 

He wasn't about to walk around in public with his fingers shoved in his ears (at least, he wasn't that desperate yet), but he did squeeze his eyes shut and pinch the bridge of his nose, trying to force himself to relax.  Just take deep breaths and think of The Rolling Stones... 

"Hey, uh, you doing okay?"

Izzy opened his eyes reluctantly.  In front of him was a young man wearing a concerned expression and a Santa hat, stuffed onto a massive pile of dark curls.  

"I'm fine.  Just finding out if it's possible to die from overexposure to Christmas music."

"Ahhh."  The man nodded in understanding.  "It's not, unfortunately.  I've tested it, trust me."

"Do you work here or something?" Izzy asked.  A leather jacket and ripped jeans didn't look like an employee uniform, but his hat matched the store decor and he didn't have a cart or shopping basket.  

"No, I'm actually a seasonal distributor.  Just checking in to make sure everything's in place before that last holiday rush, you know? Shit always gets crazy at the last minute."

"Tell me about it," Izzy responded, as if he knew a thing about marketing as a cynical 16-year-old.  But he had first-hand experience with last-minute crises, and as if to prove it, his brothers came running up to him at that moment.

"Jeff!  We can't find anything good, what should we do?"

"What's the problem?" the stranger in a Santa hat asked, looking genuinely concerned.  

"We don't know what present to get for a girl at school," the boys explained.

"Hmm..." He tapped at his chin.  "Why don't you just – oh wait, you're underage.  Well, how about you bake her some cookies or something?  That's what everyone does for me and I have no complaints."

Desperate to remove himself from this musical hell, Izzy jumped on the idea.  "Yeah, you could do sugar cookies!  And decorate them like horses, she likes horses right?” The boys had only mentioned that a dozen times; Izzy was starting to wonder if this girl even had any other personality traits.  

To his relief, a spark lit up in his brothers' eyes.  Cookies were a perfect idea, and suddenly they were dragging him away to look at cookie cutters and sprinkles.

Izzy turned around to shoot the helpful stranger a grateful look, but when he looked back, the man had disappeared with no trace, leaving not even a furry white pompom behind.

-----

Slash glanced out the window and grimaced – it was cold as a witch’s big bouncy tit outside, nothing but snow and ice as far as the eye could see. He pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders and took another swig of hot Irish coffee.   Damn the North Pole, there was a reason he took his summer vacations in Malibu.

But despite the miserable work conditions, Slash was nothing if not dedicated to his job.  In front of him was a sack overflowing not with toys but with the most recent letters to Santa, straight from the North Pole's post office.  With Christmas only a few days away, his daunting task was to go through the whole mountain of letters as quickly as possibly in order to take their special requests into consideration before it was time to start loading up the sleigh.  

Well, there was no time like the present to get started.  Slash stretched his back and got comfortable in his coziest armchair (by throwing his legs over one armrest and slouching until his head rested on the other), absentmindedly tapping the end of his peppermint stick on the edge of an ashtray.  He grimaced when he brought the stick back to his lips and realized his mistake. 

With a sigh, he dropped the peppermint stick back in the ashtray already full of cigarette butts and ruined candies, and unfolded the first letter.  In barely legible green marker, the message read: 

Dear Santa Claus,

My name is Steven and I'm 5 years old.  Please give me a skateboard for Christmas.  My brother has one and he won't let me borrow it to learn tricks.

Hmmm.  Five years old was a little young for a skateboard.  Knowing Steven, he'd probably knock his teeth out by New Year's...

...Slash shrugged.  Why not?  All things considered, he would have killed for a skateboard when he was five, so who was he to say no?

-----

Duff was seven years old when his older brothers cornered him in the backyard and gleefully informed him that Santa Claus was a fraud.  It was all a lie made up by parents to convince their children to behave during the year, they explained, and the toys were made on factory lines not by magical elves.  Their mother gave them a hell of a scolding afterwards but it was too late, the deed could not be undone. 

He tried to play it cool, but the truth was, Duff was very distraught as Christmas Eve inched closer.  Could his siblings be right?  He didn't want to believe it, but if he was being honest with himself, he'd suspected as much for some time.  He braced himself to accept the hard truth come Christmas Eve – but only if he was presented with definitive proof.

When the fateful night finally came, Duff and two of his brothers laid out their sleeping bags behind the couch, where they'd be hidden from view if anyone tried to approach the Christmas tree.  They all swore not to fall asleep, not even for a second until Christmas morning... And it wasn't until his brother started snoring that Duff realized he was the only one still awake and silently anticipating the moment of truth.  

It was imperative, of course, that he stayed hidden and didn't make a sound, or else risk giving their plot away.  But... it was past midnight, dinner was hours ago and Duff's empty stomach was starting to distract him from the task at hand.  He couldn't stop thinking about all the food he would get to eat with his family on Christmas Day: the glazed ham, mashed potatoes, apple pie and Christmas cookies... 

In the dim light, Duff could just barely make out the plate of cookies for Santa, waiting in front of the tree.  The cookies were still there untouched, all six of them... Surely no one would notice if Duff ate just one?  

He tiptoed over his sleeping siblings, as silent as the snow falling outside, making his way around the sofa to the plate on the coffee table.  But just as he reached out to pluck a gingerbread man from the assortment, he saw a shadow of movement out of the corner of his eye.  There, beside the Christmas tree in the flickering glow of multicolored string lights, was a mysterious figure in a fur-lined coat and a red cap.

Duff stared at the intruder, slack-jawed.  The cookie clattered back onto the dish, and at the noise the stranger whirled around to face him. 

"Duff!  What are you doing still awake?" he demanded.  Duff took a breath to answer – or more likely to ask how the man knew his name – but before he could, the man peered over the couch, narrowed his eyes and frowned.  "Oh I see what this is. You thought you would catch your parents pretending to be me!" he accused.  "Well, here's the real truth: adults are always wrong and you should never do what they say!" 

The man – could he really be Santa Claus? – he planted his leather-gloved hands on his hips as he scolded Duff.  "And don't even get me started on teenagers..." he griped, casting a stare over Duff's shoulder where his older brother's leg was sticking out from behind the couch, tangled in a blanket.  

Tears started to well up in Duff's eyes.

"Please still give them Christmas presents!  I know they said they don't believe in you, but they've been good, I promise!" he begged.  Santa's expression softened.

"Aw, I know, kid.  I promise they'll still get their presents, alright?  Let me just finish up here and then maybe you can help me out with those cookies, sound good?"

Placated, Duff sniffled and nodded, scrubbing his eyes with his sleeve. He hopped onto the sofa, swinging his feet and watching with awe as Santa pulled beautifully wrapped gifts out of seemingly nowhere and stacked them around the tree, one after another until all eight of the McKagan children were represented. He took a step back to take in his handiwork, made a few minor adjustments, then turned back to Duff: “Voila! That’s the magic of Christmas. Now pass me that plate, would you?”

Santa sat down next to Duff and propped his boots up on the coffee table. When Duff held out the plate of cookies, he selected one decorated to look like Santa Claus, white beard and all, and promptly bit its head off. 

“I love my job, but delivering presents is exhausting,” he sighed, accepting a glass of milk from Duff’s outstretched hand. “I’ve already covered Asia, Africa, Europe, and most of the Americas, so I’d say I’m due for a break.  Cheers, Duff.” He held up his glass and Duff tapped it with his half-eaten cookie. 

“To a merry Christmas and a happy New Year!”

🎄🎄🎄🎄

[ssatoritendou]

Last Minute Valentines

Tendou Satori 

Pairing: tendou/reader

Word Count: 1.3k

+ summary: it’s Valentine’s Day and Satori forgot to get you a gift

Genre: Fluff

"Tendou what did you get Y/n for Valentine's Day?" Wakatoshi asked the red-headed middle blocker while eating lunch. "I didn't get her anything. Should I have? She's not really a girly-girl I didn't think she would be into that sort of stuff." Tendou responded. "Tendou that's stupid," Goshiki commented while stuffing his face. "Yeah whether Y/n is a girly-girl or not she is still a girl. Plus Y/n has to put up with your annoying ass you should at least get her something." Semi said. "You're right. I gotta go." Tendou said running off from the table. Reon looked at Wakatoshi questionably, "Why did you ask Tendou that question Waka?" "I knew he didn't get her anything and she planned a nice dinner for him."

"Hey Y/n!" You looked outside your classroom and saw Satori in the hallway waving at you to come out. You asked to be excused and walked out into the hallway. "Is everything ok Satori?" "Uh yeah...I was just wondering if we are doing anything tonight?" "Satori you could have just texted me." You giggled at him. "I also wanted to see my beautiful girlfriend." He smiled and started to smother you in a hug. "Satori I can't breathe." He was laughing and pulled away. "I'm sorry beautiful. But are we doing anything tonight? I need to know so I can sneak away from volleyball practice." "Yeah, right you can sneak away." "I'm stealthy like a ninja." He said. "Sure you are Sweetie. Yes, we are having dinner tonight it is Valentine's Day." You smiled. "Oh yeah, right I forgot." He laughed nervously while looking at you to gauge your reaction. "That's...ok Satori. Just come to my dorm around 6:00." You leaned up and he bent down a little bit and kissed his cheek. "I'll see you later Satori." As soon as you walked away his smile faded, "I'm so screwed."

You weren't mad or even upset with Tendou for forgetting Valentine's Day. To be honest it didn't surprise you. It was just in his character to forget a holiday like Valentine's Day. It's not like he forgot your birthday or Christmas. Valentine's Day didn't matter to you because it was one of those holidays that felt like it was made by the greeting cards people. You just wanted to do a small thing with Satori like a real couple. "Where did you go?" Yuna your best friend asked. "Uh, Tendou wanted to talk to me." "Oooh." She smirked. "How is the Guess Monster?" "Same as always. Incredibly weird just the way I like him. He forgot today's Valentine's Day." "Oh no. So that means he forgot to get you a present." "It's whatever it's not a big deal. As long as I can spend some time with him tonight that is what matters." You smiled at the girl. "You are seriously the best girlfriend. Damn if I were a guy..." "You are so weird sometimes. Weirder than Tendou." The two of you laughed.

Tendou was able to convince Semi to cover for him for practice to the coach. He promised Wakatoshi that he would practice harder during the weekend. He left campus and went to a flower shop and a convenience store. "Gift for Y/n...gift...a gift for the love of my life." He whispered to himself. "Hey, kid." The florist said to him. "What are you looking for?" "Something that says I love you so much. That you are perfect and amazing. And I'm sorry I forgot Valentine's Day. Got any roses?" "Sadly son we ran out of those today. A lot of people forgot that today is Valentine's Day." The man laughed. "You know red tulips represent true love and purple represent royalty." "Oh yes, those will do." Tendou smiled. The florist made a small pretty arrangement. He then went to the convenience store. He was able to find a giant box of chocolates and found a teddy bear that smelled like chocolate too. He was happy with his purchases and hope that you would love them too.

You had cleaned up your room and decorated it a little bit with some fairy lights. You ordered take out from Tendou's favorite place and made his favorite homemade chocolate ice cream. You also had a pretty great gift as well for him. You dressed nicely even though it was a night in date. You planned to wear the sweater he got you for Christmas and a pair of jeans. You waited patiently for him to open the door and announce himself like he usually does. But this time you heard really loud knocking. "Hi, baby!" He cheered with 4 presents in hand. "Satori what's all this?" "Well my dear, this is our first Valentine's together and I wanted to make it really cheesy. So a heart-shaped box filled with chocolates. A chocolate smelling bear. But they were out of roses, so I got you tulips. Because I love your two lips." He smirked tapping your lips before diving in and giving a long kiss. "Also red tulips mean true love and purple represent royalty. Which is both how I feel about you and you truest are my ones and only queen." "You are so corny. But I love you anyway and this is above and beyond. It's so sweet. But what's in the box?" "Nuh-uh ah. Not until after we have dinner." You took his hand and sat down on the blanket you laid out with two table tops with food on them with your laptop out. Set to watch an animal documentary series you and Tendou started last weekend.

After dinner, you pulled out the ice cream. "Now it's homemade ice cream. I don't know if it's going to be any good." "Nonsense you made it with love in mind so it will taste great." He took a spoon and made a weird face. Your heart sank a little thinking you messed up one of his gifts. "I'm just kidding with you. It tasted really good. You should have seen your face. I just wanted to kiss it all over to make you stop pouting." "Tendou Satori that was really mean. I don't know if you deserve your next present." You turned away from him. "Oh, Baby come on I was only playing." "Ok fine. I really like this present I got you. So my dad knows this guy that works for drum roll please..." Tendou started tapping his lap. "At Shonen Jump. So I talked to him and he gave us a pass to come in and we can get a tour of the place where they make them." Tendou was speechless. He didn't know what to say or how to react. "I know it might sound boring-" "Boring no! Y/n this is like the best gift ever. You are the only person I can really talk about Shonen with. You are so awesome. It makes my last present fail in comparison to what this means to me." "I'll be the judge of that." He handed you the box. You unwrapped it to reveal his volleyball sweatshirt. "It's my back up jacket but I wanted you to have it to wear to the games so everyone knows that you're mine and you look really cute in it as well." He smiled happily and had a little bit of blush on his cheeks. When he opened his eyes from smiling he looked down at you and saw little tears in your eyes. "Did I upset-" You tackled him to the ground and kissed his face all over. "It's perfect Satori! I love you." "I love you too, Y/n." "Best Valentine's Day ever." You sighed as he held you.

[shes-an-oddbird]

Yours, Mine and Ours

Day 1 of Dousy Week! Crazy how a drabble I intended to be short and sweet turned out to be nearly 2,000 words but when I go to write my multi chapter fic I can't crank out 3 coherent sentences. Anyways please enjoy another variation on Daniel gets hurt and Daisy doesn't handle it well. Hopefully with a little twist. :) 

*Story has nothing to do with the movie of the same name

Summary: After spending the day in recovery with no sign of Daisy, Daniel goes in search of her in their room, only to find that its her room now and he lives next door. Dousy Week 2020 Prompt Close Calls (and New Horizons - Kinda).

ao3

Its cold. That’s the first thing he really notices. The second is that he can barely pry his eyes open and that lifting his hands to his face to clear them isn’t going to happen. Its drugs again. What an awful feeling. But he’s not on a battlefield or on the floor of some dingy barn. There is something soft beneath him and something warm holding his wrist.

As his senses slowly return, he manages to turn towards the source of that warmth. There is blurry dark hair and dark eyes staring back at him. He blinks a few times, excited to see her face but realizes soon something’s not right.

“I’m sorry, I know I’m not the sister you were hoping to see.”

Kora is standing next to his bed, there is a chair across the room she likely jumped up from when he started to stir.

“What happened?”

“Attacked on a supply run.”

“I thought we were on a non-hostile planet.”

“We were but getting a whole planet to agree on whether the giant ship full of humans with their extremely powerful inhuman director is not a threat is never going to happen.”

“So it was rebels?”

“They hit you with some sort of toxin, its out of your system now but it sent your vitals crazy, people in charge gave us an antidote to try to smooth things over but they didn’t know how effective it would be on a human.”

“Was anyone else hurt?”

“We’re all fine.”

He relaxes back onto the bed. He’s still groggy but if the poison is out of his system than its probably just a side effect of being asleep and stationary so long.

“That’s odd they didn’t try to take out more of us, we were unarmed.”

“Daisy and I are never unarmed and when you didn’t answer your coms, well needless to say they scattered when she came to find you.” That probably didn’t help tensions, but he was thankful. The reason their team was as safe as it was traveling through space was because no one really wanted to risk crossing Daisy and Kora and that gave them time to prove they were only there to make peace. “She was here, the whole time you were out, medics couldn’t get her to wait outside, she only just left a few hours ago, asked me to be here so you wouldn’t be alone when you woke up.”

“Where is she now?”

“Her room.” Kora answers. “She put us back on track for earth, no more stops now that we’re refueled, you’ve got an appointment with Simmons when we get there by the way.”

That was a given. Simmons was the expert on alien biology, whether she was officially working for SHIELD or not. “Did she say when she was coming back?”

Kora looked uncomfortable. “She didn’t say, I’m sure soon though.”

When the day passes with no sign of her he can’t take it anymore. Its late in the evening and most of the crew is turned in for the night. He knows he shouldn’t be out of medical yet, but he thinks if he gets caught, he can just say he’s gone to get a change of clothes or a sweater from their room.

He slides open the door, relieved to see a light on. She wasn’t asleep yet.

Daisy is just sitting up when he steps inside. She’s clearly startled to see him, her eyes are wide and worried. “What are you doing here, you shouldn’t be up yet!”

She looks a mess and that’s saying something seeing as he’d spent time with her shortly after she had literally died. She obviously hasn’t slept but that wasn’t unusual. Her eyes are red, her hair looks unwashed and she dressed in an oversized t-shirt and shorts. She may have been trying to sleep or at least lying down because there is no work spilled across their bed like it often was.

“I wanted to – “ He wanted to see her. Her tone is full of worry though and he thinks she probably wants to hear a better excuse. “I needed a sweater, its freezing in those recovery rooms.”

“Oh.” She shifts uncomfortably. This was not at all the reaction he had expected. As the number one rule breaker on the ship he thought he'd get a earful of teasing for leaving without doctor approval or maybe at least she'd look happy to see him. “You should have just asked for an extra blanket.”

He steps over to their dresser thinking he might as well grab one for when she hauls him back down there. “I wanted to stretch my legs too and wanted to see you of course.” She stays quiet. He pulls open the top drawer of the dresser to find it empty. He opens the next one down. Also empty.

“Daisy where are all of my things.”

“They’re next door, in your room.”

This stops him.

He does in fact have a room next door, though it’s never been used. It’s really just for show; they are an official branch of SHIELD and every agent was required a bunk. Just the same, Daisy’s bunk was bigger simply because she was in charge. Not because it had been designed to accommodate two people.

He had thought the room had felt different when he walked in and a second glance around tells him his things have vanished. He’s not a messy person but his belongings that are always out, his books from the nightstand and his typewriter Daisy had given him that sat on their desk, were gone.

It hits him quickly what’s happening. He’d been warned, not once, not twice but three times that this would happen. That if he got hurt, she was going to pull away. Mack had warned him, Simmons had elaborated on why and May, thank god, had advised him on how to handle it.

She’s stubborn and the only way to get through to her is to be even more stubborn.

“So this is your solution, to put a wall between us, literally.” He asks but she doesn’t answer, just sits cross legged in the middle of their bed looking thoroughly unsure what to do or say. “Daisy, what happened wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes, it was, they attacked you because they don’t trust me.”

“That’s not your fault, you didn’t give them any reason not to trust you.”

This he realizes doesn’t make her feel any better.

“Please go.” She lays back down. Turns her back to him and faces the wall. He needs to get closer to her and make her look at him. It's the only way to get through to her. He crosses the room to the bed and lowers himself carefully to the edge.

“Please just go.” She whispers and curls farther in on herself.

“I’m going, but you want me and all my stuff out.”

“I already moved all your things.”

He reaches out to tug on her sleeve. Though she probably wore the old t-shirt more, it was technically his. It was the first thing the team had given him to change into and ever since he had kept it to sleep in. “This is mine.”

She sits up and glares at him and maybe it’s the resemblance but May’s word ring through his head again. How was anyone supposed to be more stubborn than she was? He tugs at her sleeve again and she jerks away. Whatever anger she has built up she can’t maintain and it leaves her with a heavy sigh. She pulls the shirt off but rather than hand it over she inspects the thread bare fabric and the faded SHIELD logo. Goose bumps run up her arms and back as the chill hits her, now dressed only in her sports bra and shorts. His instinct is to reach out and warm her up, pull the t-shirt back over her and wrap her in the thick quilt at the end of the bed. 

But he has to be stubborn, he reminds himself again. So instead he reaches out to take the t-shirt and it does the trick. He pulls at it but she refuses to let go, her fingers gripping it like a lifeline. He uses it to pull her to him and she comes willingly. It’s an overwhelming relief as she sinks into his arms but her sniffling and the wet tears soaking into his shirt doesn’t let him enjoy the victory long.

“It was different this time.” She mumbles.

“What do you mean?”

“It hurt so much, but you’re still here.” Not like Lincoln or Trip or even her parents. “All those times before I lost what I had, I’ve always lived in the moment, day to day, too much going on to think ahead, but now, with you, I was – I was losing a future too.”

He'll admit that takes him by surprise. “You think about our future?”

She nods. “I’ve never really done that before, not far into the future anyways.”

He supposes that’s where they differ most; maybe it’s the generational thing but he’s been thinking about their future practically since the day they met. “What do you think about?”

“I don’t know,” she starts to sit back up, embarrassed or scared to say. He lets her rearrange herself but doesn’t let her move too far away. She’s leaning into him but her face its still turned away. “Just us being older together, after our space adventures or whatever, maybe working at SHIELD to help Inhumans together, I think you’d like to work at the academy, maybe getting married, maybe a family.”

As she speaks, she gets quieter and quieter until he can only barely hear her, but he does. He holds her tighter trying to express how much he would like that to be their future without saying it out loud. He knows Daisy well enough that actions are sometimes better than words. And sometimes the necessary words were for breaking the tension. “Well I’m flattered that I’m apart of it, but I think sticking me in a different room might be a step back.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“We’ve had this conversation before, we’re both prone to running head first into danger, I thought we agreed that that was going to be a regular thing and that staying together was just our selfish reward for being so damn self-sacrificing 99% of the time.”

She laughs and sits up again, finally, really looking at him. “We did agree to that.”

“Good, so I can move my stuff back in?”

“No.” She says climbing out of the bed. “But you can march yourself back down to medical and just as soon as we’re back on earth you are getting an earful from Simmons on proper bed rest and wandering around after literally be pois – “ He cuts her off with a kiss and he feels her smiling against his lips.

“And after all that?”

“After that you can move back in.”

"Good." He kisses her again and in her distracted state he manages to steal back the t-shirt. He pulls away enough to slip it back over her head. "This can be yours until then." 

[annaraebananawriter]

A Found Family

Yellow again everyone! Here again with another oneshot. Has anyone noticed that all of my oneshots have been centred around Dream? I don’t know why. Although, I do have a couple planned that don’t include Dream.

Also, this particular oneshot was inspired by @mutated-bunnies post about Dream with wings and @dragonfruiteen post about Blue grooming his wings. Give both of these people love, they deserve it!

Fandom: Undertale, but specifically Dreamtale and Underswap

Characters: Dream (Who belongs to Joku), Blue and Strech (Who both belong to P0pcornPr1nce)

Warnings: None that I can think of, just pure fluff

Word Count: 2224

~oOo~

It was well known among his friends that Dream didn’t take care of himself.

He was on the run most of the time, so he couldn’t. He barely ate, either, as he relied on the positivity from the AUs he visited. That sustained him enough. He barely slept, too. It was rare to see him taking a nap, though if he did it wouldn’t be long and would most likely be on Blue’s couch.

Most importantly, however, he didn’t take care of his wings.

Yes, he had wings. They weren’t just rumours. They were small, though, so he mostly had them hidden underneath his cape. He could fly with them, but only for a short while. They found that out thanks to Ink.

His wings were a mess. Feathers tangled and uncomfortable, though he learned to ignore it. He rarely slept on his wings for the reason of not making it worse. Somehow, it gets worse anyways.

So, no, Dream did not take care of himself at all. Can you blame him? He’s too busy taking care of Nightmare and the Multiverse to give a damn about the state of his health and wings. It wasn’t that hard to understand.

This is what he was trying to get Blue to see. They had argued about this before, but Dream always won in the end.

Now, this argument was different. Blue was done listening to ‘excuses’ apparently.

“Just because you’re busy a lot,” his friend immediately shot back, arms crossed and foot tapping, “does not mean you can’t take a break for a few minutes!”

Dream huffed.

They had been at this for a while. He knew that Blue was getting frustrated with his lack of care to himself recently (it was quite hard to ignore). His friend had a habit of building up his concerns until they burst. Today was that day.

The minute Dream had come back from a battle with Nightmare, Blue had confronted him. Blue’s brother, Stretch, had been entering the room at the time and had frozen, recognizing the incoming lecture/argument from the times it was directed at him. Stretch had then said he would be back and left Dream to his fate.

The Papyrus was probably laughing to himself about it now.

Dream didn’t like being worried about. This was a main issue as to why these arguments even existed. Blue and him had different views as to what friends should do. Blue believed that friends do whatever they can for the others, especially if it’s that one friend who is always overworking himself. Dream, on the other hand, believed that friends don’t pry into the lives of the others, respecting their privacy, especially if it’s that one friend who is the mom of the group.

The other thing was, Dream knew that Blue was right. Blue knew he did too.

Should Dream just give up his fight? Probably.

Will he? Absolutely not.

Why? Because a trait that he and his negative twin shared was that they are both stubborn. They would be in favour of keeping their pride than giving in and accepting help. This trait is probably the reason for most of their problems.

So, Dream was going to fight this to his last breath.

“Blue,” he began, wings puffing a little in anger. Blue had wrestled his cape away from him too and was currently holding onto it. He felt naked without it, but he persevered. “you are asking me to stay here for a whole day, which, need I remind you, threatens your AU, and sleep for at least three hours—”

“I was thinking more like eight, the healthy amount of sleeping hours.”

“—three hours,” he ignored Blues interruption, “and eat a whole meal.” He looked at Blue with pleading eyes. “You know I can’t stomach that much food.”

Blue’s eyes softened a fraction and he sighed, setting Dream’s cape on the arm on the couch. “I know. But, Dream,” he gazed at Dream with his own pleading eyes, “you can’t continue like this. You’ll burn out. Then what’ll happen?”

“I—”

“You won’t be able to fight. Which will hurt you more than fighting would.” Blue clasped his hands together and bowed his head, eyes gazing at Dream even more pleadingly. “Please? Just today, that’s it.”

Dream hesitated. He wanted to argue more, continue fighting for the win. But Blue never did this before. He never pleaded. And Dream knows that if he continues to say no now that Blue will be defeated. He’ll resign himself to never asking again.

He didn’t want to make Blue disappointed. Besides…one day couldn’t hurt, right?

Dream sighed, sagging in defeat. “Fine.” Blue lit back up, beaming. Another thought entered Dream’s head and he panicked a bit. “But Nightmare—”

“Ink will handle him.” Blue grabbed Dream’s hand and pulled him to the bathroom, where a pile of clothes already waited. A bath was run that still looked surprisingly warm. Blue had prepared to win.

Dream still protested weakly. “But—”

Blue smiled and patted Dream’s shoulder. “He will, don’t worry.” A glint was in Blue’s eye that made Dream shiver. “I’ll make sure of it.”

With that, he turned and left, locking the door behind him. Dream blinked a bit at the door.

Sometimes, Blue scared him.

He sighed and looked to the bath. It would be nice to have one, he supposed. He couldn’t remember the last time he did have one. Probably back in the village, if he had to guess. Smiling slightly, he stripped and put one foot in the bath. The water was the perfect temperature.

He entered the bath fully, shifting a bit when his wings got wet. It was a bit of a shock, at first. He leaned back a bit, resting his head against the wall. He usually never had time for a bath, relaxing as it was. It distracted him from all of his other duties.

…Blue was right. He did need this.

Dream sat there a while longer. This was the most relaxed he’d ever been. Eventually, he started to clean himself and his wings. Once satisfied, he hopped out, unplugging the bath. He scrubbed himself clean and gazed at the clothes Blue had prepared for him.

It was a yellowy-orange sweater and some gray sweatpants. Comfy clothes.

Once dressed in those, he took a deep breath and began the process of drying his wings. Whenever his wings got wet, the feathers got all clumped together. This was no exception. It was fine though. He could live with it.

After he was done with everything, even though his wings were a bit damp still, he unlocked the door and exited.

Blue met him at the end of the stairs. He took Dream’s hand and pulled him to the couch, sat him down and left for a minute. He returned with a single taco. Dream felt nauseous even looking at it. He gazed up at Blue when he handed him the plate. “Blue—”

“You don’t have to eat it all,” Blue reassured him, immediately knowing what the guardian was thinking. “just pick at it and eat what you can. I’ll eat the rest.” He then grabbed a blanket and sat beside Dream, wrapping it around them both.

They turned on the TV and settled down to watch a rerun of a cartoon Alphys had given Blue called ‘Voltron’. She had found it in the dump and said it reminded her of the training guard. It was pretty good, with some good jokes.

Dream managed to eat a good corner of the taco before he felt full. He gave the rest to Blue, who happily took it, giving Dream a sympathetic smile as well. His friends ate the rest of the taco as they finished the episode.

After some time had passed, Dream felt Blue staring at him. Looking over, Dream caught Blue’s eye.

“What?” Dream asked, tilting his head a bit.

Blue glanced away to his wings before looking back to Dream. He did that a couple more times before eventually looking Dream in the eye. “Can I groom your wings?”

Dream blinked. Once. Twice. That was unexpected. “…why?”

Blue looked frustrated at that. “You never groom them! You let the feathers get all bunched up!” He put a hand on his chest. “I, for one, think they would look pretty once groomed.”

Dream paused. He supposed the other was right. He never did groom his wings, just let them do whatever they wanted to do. In fact, he can’t even remember if he ever did groom them. Probably not. He’s always been on the run. He never had time too.

It must feel good. “…sure.”

Blue looked at him with surprise. “Really?”

He sighed and nodded, smiling when Blue’s excitement came into focus quickly.

They then shifted on the couch to accommodate the activity. It was tight, but somehow, they got it to work. Dream laid down on his stomach, this way his wings could stretch a bit. Blue sat underneath his legs, twisted to face Dream, which wasn’t as uncomfortable as it sounded, so that the wings didn’t hit him in the face. It was a bit of a reach for Blue to reach all the feathers, but he managed.

Dream startled at the first touch. It was new. Yet…as Blue continued, it grew to be very relaxing, even more so than the bath. It was a constant little thing that sent tingles up his spine. He felt himself relax into the couch, the TV and Blue’s breathing tuning out.

He yawned a bit and found his eyes slipping close.

~oOo~

Blue smiled when Dream fell asleep.

He had a feeling it would happen, though he wasn’t sure. He had been talking to a few of the monsters that had wings about grooming them so he knew what to do and they all said it was pretty relaxing. Relaxing enough to put someone to sleep.

He did plan all of this. The bath, the clothes, the taco, the show, everything. It was all so that he could groom his friend’s wings and put him to sleep.

Because god knows the other needed it.

It both saddened and angered him that Dream had to go through this. Brothers shouldn’t treat each other like this. Yes, he got upset with his own brother, but that would never mean he would want to kill him.

Unlike Nightmare. He knew that something happened between them that he will probably never be told, but that was no excuse. Dream still refused to kill Nightmare, who could care less if his twin died. It sickened him. Dream deserved far better.

Which was where this day came from.

He was glad that his plan had worked. He was very glad that Dream agreed to it in the first place. He also knew that he would do another one of these in the future. He just had to. Dream deserved it.

With these thoughts still swirling around his head, Blue fell into a light sleep.

~oOo~

Stretch sighed as he returned home.

He had been ordered by his brother to stay away for the day. It had something to do with Dream, he knew that, so it was fine with him. He knew that the guardian had been running himself ragged a bit recently. So, he left Blue to his devices.

He opened the door and closed it again, turned to the living room and paused.

The first thing Stretch noticed was the TV, stuck on the menu screen for that season. He subconsciously reached for the remote and turned it off. He then turned to the couch.

The second thing he noticed was the cape that Dream always wore on the arm. It stricked him a bit odd, but then his attention was directed to the two skeletons on the couch, the third thing he noticed.

His brother and his friend were laying on the couch. Dream was laying on Blue’s chest, an arm hanging off. He was also drooling a bit, a wet spot growing on Blue’s shirt. In return, Blue had his arms wrapped around the guardian. Their legs were tangled together and Dream’s wings laid on top of them both.

It was a cute scene. Too cute to resist taking a picture of.

After the picture was taken, he looked to the blanket on the floor. Taking the fuzzy green thing, he carefully draped it over the sleeping pair. Hesitating a bit, he then kneeled beside them.

He first gave a kiss to Blue’s forehead, making his brother shift in his sleep. Then, his gaze went to Dream. He knew his brother viewed the guardian as another brother. It was obvious whenever he looked. And if Blue thought that way about Dream, that Stretch did too.

He wasn’t lying, either. He knew what the guardian’s own brother had done to him. He didn’t like it, perhaps even disliked it more than Blue did. Dream deserved a loving family, and brothers that wouldn’t abandon him.

“You’ll always have a family with us, Dream.” He whispered to the sleeping guardian. He gave a second kiss to Dream’s forehead, who shifted in his sleep also, snuggling more into Blue.

Stretch smiled at his sleeping brothers before sitting down to watch over them.

[drarryangels]

heyy so my birthday is in 3 days (the 14th) and i was wondering if you could write something for then? i really love your writing and *most* stories (i’m still crying bc of the last two)! it could be literally anything, i just wanted something cute and that hate that’s actually suppressed love vibe totally cool if you can’t/don’t want to, just thought i should try 😅 thank you 💜

Oh my gosh happy birthday!! (I’m probably going to post this early because I wanted to work on this as soon as I got this ask and Tumblr won’t let you schedule ask posts as far as I know) So happy EARLY birthday!! Thank you so much and I’m sorry about the two most recent fics! (I’m actually not and your reactions gave me LIFE) Thank you for being the sweetest and I’m so so so happy to write something for you!

Also I’m sorry I couldn’t decide whether or not to write something angsty or fluffy so I wrote both. (the second one will be coming on your actual birthday)

I still haven’t figured out how to sit across from you, and not be madly in love with everything you do, Draco thought, spooning more eggs into his mouth. 

Harry was laughing across the table, giggling and snorting at something Pansy had said. Draco didn’t know what she had said, but whatever it was had Harry losing his mind. He looked so beautiful in this light. Rich sunlight was sparkling in and out of perspective through the windows and dust motes caught on and ruffled through Harry’s hair. 

Draco smiled down at his plate. He had made Harry’s hair like that. Wild and untamed, finger tracks imprinted through his curls from last night and this morning. Sex and kissing and cuddling. Just one tiny sign of the fingerprints all over Harry’s body that Draco had left there. 

Harry’s toes tapped over Draco’s under the table and Draco’s eyes flicked up to meet Harry’s green ones. Every time. Every time, Draco couldn’t help but lose his breath. Being in love with Harry Potter had that effect on him. 

Pansy kicked Draco’s knee under the table, and even though it stung, he didn’t have it in him to glare at her. He knew it was her way to say stop looking like you’re so in love you can’t function, but that’s exactly what he was. 

At first, their friends, even Harry’s who had only known about their relationship for a week, had teased them about being in the honeymoon phase. But while the rest of their friends lost their desperate need for public sexy times and shifted towards the old bickering of people who knew each other too well, Draco and Harry didn’t change. 

Harry’s hands had never stopped shaking in nervous anticipation after that first time after their eighth year graduation when they had kissed for the first time. It had just been a light, soft thing, but it made Draco’s heart stutter in his fingertips. Draco’s heart still did that when they kissed. Harry’s habit of lacing both his hands through Draco’s before they went to bed never faded away. Draco’s insistence to eat half of the food off of Harry’s plate for every meal never dissipated. 

They were still just as madly in love as they had been since always. It wasn’t a honeymoon phase because it wasn’t a phase. 

They’d been together for over four years now, and everything was still a surprise. Every move was still a gift. 

Harry stood up from the brunch table and kissed Pansy on the cheek. Draco knew they were leaving the restaurant, but why? Hadn’t they just gotten here? Harry might’ve had an Auror meeting. Maybe he was just heading out earlier. Harry came around the table and grabbed Draco’s hand and beckoned him to follow along. Pansy just grinned and waved goodbye. 

Draco trusted Harry, and so he followed him. 

There was no one outside when they walked past the host at the front door and out of the local brunch place they’d been eating at. The streets were completely empty. 

Draco turned to ask Harry what was going on, but when he turned, Harry was there pressing him up against the side of the wall with beauty captured in his eyes. He was so close that Draco could almost see his own reflection in the glassiness of Harry’s eyes, but there was no roughness of lust. Harry’s hands were gentle on his hips and his mouth was just barely brushing the corner of Draco’s mouth. 

“I miss you,” Draco whispered. Harry leaned back in confusion, and then it was over. 

Draco sat up violently and looked around. Their bed was empty and the sheets were soaked with Draco’s sweat and the mess of rolling he had done in his sleep. A sharp pull tugged his stomach down into darkness.

Draco flopped back into bed and closed his eyes tightly. I miss you. Draco wished desperately to go back to sleep. That was the only time he ever got to see Harry now.

“Dada?” a small voice came from the doorway. “Papa?”

Draco lifted his head and squinted in the darkness. For a second, he saw two tiny boys clutching onto each other highlighted by the light coming in through the door, and then the image cleared. Scorpius was hanging on to the door frame with one hand, and the other one clutching on to the knitted blanket Mrs. Weasley had given him last Christmas. The pull in his stomach yanked down again, and gravity swam underneath him.

“Come here, bub,” Draco said quietly. 

Scorpius waddled over to the side of Draco’s and Harry’s bed, now just Draco’s, and held his hands up for Draco to lift him up. Draco picked him and lied him down in the curve of of his body. Draco lifted his hand to rub through Scorpius’ curly blonde hair. 

“Where’s Dada?” he heard Scorpius whisper. 

Draco squeezed his eyes shut and glance over his shoulder at the empty side of the bed where Harry used to sleep before… 

“Gone,” Draco whispered back, a hot tear sliding out of the corner of his eye. “They’re both gone.”

“Gone where?” Scorpius rolled over to face Draco and wrapped his small, dimpled hand into Draco’s shirt. 

Draco opened his eyes and let the tears drip down his face sideways. “They’re just gone, bub. It was an accident.”

“Dada?”

“He went in the accident, too,” Draco choked out. Scorpius set his hand clumsily on Draco’s cheek. Draco stared into his little, pointed his face. His son. Draco never thought he’d get to say that. Never thought he’d ever have a son of all things. Much less, two! Two sons, twins. 

“Why didn’t Alby come home?” Scorpius asked, his voice so small, so stumbly and young. 

Draco tried to swallow it down. Tried to swallow down the heaving sobs and the grief that was trying to stab everything in him to pieces. 

“He’s gone, too,” Draco said. His body shook, he could feel it shaking as if it was the only thing that made him real. He could feel Scorpius shaking too, pressed up against him, and the only thing he had left in this life. 

It had happened so fast. Harry had gone out with Albus into Muggle London. Sweet, lovely dark-haired Albus with Harry’s dark skin and Draco’s moles. His son, his perfect son. And Harry, dressed like a haphazard mess, just like he always was. Draco remembered the morning like it was happening then, all again. 

The orange sweater Harry had put on. Draco had tugged at it, prodding at Harry and telling him the Chudley Cannons sucked, and so did neon orange. Harry had kissed his cheek and then swatted his hands away before picking Albus up and swinging him around the kitchen. He had bellowed, “Whose ready for a day with the Aurors?” Albus had shrieked and squealed, “Me, me, me!”

It had been take your kid to work day. Albus had insisted on going with Harry into the Auror office for the day, and Scorpius had wanted to go to Draco’s apprenticeship job at the upstart wand making shop in Diagon Alley. So that’s what they had done. 

Draco didn’t find out until 15:02 the next day that Harry and Albus had been on the bus that’s brakes had broken down and driven straight off the road, killing all the passengers within the first five rows of seats. Damn Albus and his need to see absolutely everything and everyone through the front window. 

Scorpius hadn’t been with him, he’d been at the Weasley’s for several hours, and the first thing Draco did was Apparate to where the bus had crashed. It was gone. It was already a day later, and they’d cleared the bus and bodies. 

So Draco went to the hospital. Wizards didn’t need any identification other than wands, and therefore didn’t carry any IDs. The authorities didn’t know what to do with a man with a long piece of thin wood in his pocket and the tiny boy with a snapped neck who had been in his lap. They took them to the hospital and waited for someone to identify them. 

They didn’t ask Draco if he knew them. 

Draco didn’t even have to really see them. He’d crashed into the wall, and then into the floor because his husband and his son. His husband and his son, and oh Merlin. He’d never wanted to see this. He’d never wanted to see anything like this in his life. Dear god, dear god, why had Harry gotten that phrase stuck in his head? Oh god, they were really, really gone. His husband, and his baby boy. Gone, dead, blue, identified. They carried Draco out, kicking and screaming, and took him to the mental ward. He Apparated out when they shoved him in the waiting room. The Statute of Secrecy meant shit. 

The next thing Draco did was go to the Weasley’s. He snatched Scorpius up in his arms from where he’d been rolling around with Victoire on the kitchen floor and hugged him so tight, Fleur had yelped at him not to suffocate Scorpius. And then Draco had sat on the floor and cried harder than he’d ever cried in his life, still holding onto Scorpius. 

There was talking and a lot of crying after that. Someone had to tell the Weasley’s. Someone had to call Hermione and Ron back from their work trip to America, advocating for magical creature rights. Someone had to go back and put the funeral matters in order. 

Draco went to say goodbye later. He’d never wanted to see anything like this in his life. His 23 year old husband with combed hair and pale skin and a tuxedo on. And three year old Albus, who was too small to even really deserve a coffin all his own. Draco held Harry’s hand and ran his finger’s through Albus’ hair, and it was all so wrong. So, so incredibly wrong. 

He took Harry’s ring off of his finger and put it on a chain around his neck. There was nothing to remember Albus by. He was a baby. He didn’t have any rings or material objects that would hold on to the memory of his soul. All he had was a blonde haired twin who’d gotten left behind in the world of the living. 

It had been a week. One week. 

And Draco lied there, holding Scorpius close in the abandoned stale dark of his bed. Draco lied there with his mouth open, and spit and snot dribbling, and wailed silently. He held onto Scorpius’ warm, breathing body, and cried into his waving hair. He rocked in bed and stared at all the empty gaps that were left in his life. 

I still haven’t figured out how to move on from this, and not be madly in love with everything that used to be mine. 

-

(Notes: Holy crap. I feel like I just ran an emotional marathon after writing this. I meant for this to be fluffy and then I sneezed and uh… This is honestly the only fic that I’ve cried about while writing. I don’t cry about my own fics. Woah, you just proved me wrong. I am so desperately sorry @holdmybook I promise I’ll write something sweet for the 14th)

[alolanrain]

Fangshipping nobody knows how’s ash

I’m gonna guess that you ment to say ‘who’ instead. I also turned this into a little fic things as well ^_^

—————————

Raihan bounces on the top of his feet. Eagerly bouncing around his home as well. It was all cleaned and spiffed you for once, cute fairy lights he finally bought for his living room and kitchen all stocked and cleaned for the incoming week and a half. Arceus he’s so excited!

Checking the time on his Rotom phone one more time Raihan grabbed his wallet and house keys before going to the mud room and slipping on his shoes. He just about pulled the door back and was greeted by Leon with his hand raised to knock on Raihans front door. Piers and Gordie were standing behind him.

“Raihan!” Leon beamed happily.

“Leon,” Raihan smiled a little less happy then before, “Piers, Gordie. What are you guys doing here?”

“Bar hopping.” Pier grunted out. Crossing his arms. “We came to see if you want’ta join us?”

Raihan took a sharp inhale of breath. Smile falling as he watched Leon wilt just a little at his reaction. “Sorry mates,” Raihan scratched at the back of his head while stepping out of the door way and shutting the door, “I’m actually headed to the airport to meet up with someone.”

“Really?” Gordie spoke up, giving Raihan an incredulous look.

“Really.” Raihan smiles a bit brighter this time. “Now if you’ll excuse me mates, I got someone to meet.” And just like that he was down the porch steps, across the large barren garden, and out the gates closing his property in and onto the gravel path that lead to Hammerlocke city. Pulling out his phone and the CorviCab app.

“We’re following,” Piers spoke up after a few minutes as he stared at Leon’s face, “aren’t we?”

Leon didn’t even say a word as he bounded down the step and onto the gravel road in seconds. Leaving Piers and Gordie to scramble after him, yelling at Leon to wait.

————

Raihan was near vibrating in his skin. Watching as People slowly walked past him into the ticket lines. He signed a few things here or there for passing fans and was mobbed once and a while for pictures. It was all fine since the plane he was waiting for is actually a tiny bit behind schedule. It gave him half an hour just to chill hack and people watch for once, even though he was nervous as all fuck. He didn’t even notice the three very familiar people watching him from a cafe table just across from him.

Piers had his hair tired up. Dressed more comfy and he was glad that he brought a warmer sweater, Airports are always cold for him. Gordie didn’t even try but switch out his shades for a darker pair and messed his hair up just a tad. It still worked for him and Leon was a bit jealous. Leon himself had his hair tied up to. Cap and glasses obscured his face.

“He’s just... standing there!” Leon whines and let his head rest against the table. Board out of his mind and waning curiosity getting to him.

“That’s what you do when you wait for someone, idiot.” Piers snarled around the straw he was drinking from.

“Hey.” The Champion weakly objected but said nothing more of.

“Oh,” Gordie finally spoke up, making the other two immediately look over to Raihan, “he spotted someone.”

True to Gordie words, Raihan looked like a damn near wiggling Yamper. Eyes tracking something until a Pikachu came bounding out of a crowd of passing people and jumping straight into his arms.

“Pikachu!” Raihan cried out happily and easily rubbing his cheeks back into the frantic mouse Pokémon, “I know, I know! I miss you too.”

“Raihan! There you are!” A voice spoke up.

Raihan couldn’t help but nearly melt into the ground when his bright blue eyes met warm hazels.

Leon watched in renewed curiosity as a very short, to Galar standards, male came jogging up to the Gym Leader. Black fluffy hair that looked sinfully soft and the warmest of hazel eyes he’s ever seen.

“Ash!” Raihan greeted happily. Pikachu climbing up into his head so he could use both his arms to fully wrap Ash into a hug, making Ash drop his luggage bag and lifting the tiny Kantonian off the ground.

“Raihan!” Ash squealed his name again, wiggling his feet in the air. “Set me down please.”

The dragon tamer did just that. Hands lingering on Ash’s shoulders before fully dropping back down to his side. “So...” he drawled nervously.

“So?” Ash asked. Bending down to grab his luggage again and offering an arm out to Pikachu who happily chattered and purred on top of Raihans head. Very clearly not moving and content where he is.

“You must be tired.” Raihan broke out of what her haze he was shortly in. Hands flying back up to nervously hover around Ash’s body. “You look absolutely exhausted! Look at those bags under your eyes. Have you been sleeping well?” Raihan gently pulled at the skin under one of ash’s eyes.

“I haven’t slept the past three days.” Aah happily learned into the hand before jerking awake and pulling back sheepishly. “Never could really sleep on planes.”

Leon continued to watch in wrapped fascination as Raihan fluttered around this ‘Ash’. The boys Pikachu’s tail gently tapped the back of Raihans head and soon enough Raihan grabbed Ash’s luggage out of the boys hand and started hearding him out of the airport. Babbling on and on about something Leon didn’t understand and could no longer hear.

“Sonia and Nessa are gonna flip when they see this.” Piers started tapping away at his own Rotom phone. Leon wondered when he pulled that out but didn’t object. “Nessa is understandable yelling in the chat but Sonia is being unusually quiet.”

Leon was happy he had his phone shut off and on do not disturbed. Something he recently learned how to do so that Oleana and Rose couldn’t bother him on his days off.

“Oh!” Piers raised a critical eyebrow as he read something that must have popped up on his screen. “Sonia just saw and she’s livid.”

Leon nodded, already standing up after handing the waitress their check with money and telling her to keep the change, he grabbed at Gordie again. Making the man squawk with surprise and struggle to set the drink down before it got pulled away with him as well.

Piers sighed and got up after them. “I really do hate all this walking.” He bemoaned loudly even though Leon highly probably couldn’t hear him with Gordie whining in his ear.

————

Nessa and Sonia met up with them at the small rolling hills just besides Raihans house. The perfect view in the front and back yard.

“If the Paparazzi find this spot, Raihan’s basically trapped in his own house.” Piers grumbled. Head leaning down onto the cool night grass. The other four didn’t say anything to the Gym Leader. More focus in coming up with a way to get Raihan to spill about who ever this ‘Ash’ person is.

“Oh look!” Piers spike up a bit louder when he noticed the sliding back door opening.

Everyone turned their head to see what Piers was and it got real quite afterwards.

“Everyone come on out!” The tiny raven haired trainer yelled happily. Throwing his Poké balls up into the air.

“Is that Ash?” Nessa spoke up. Leaning into Leon’s side that Sonia wasn’t taking up. The Champion hymn in confirmation. “He’s cute.”

“He is!” Sonia agreed readily. Eyes widening as the Pokémon materialized in Raihans large back yard. “Holy shit!” She hissed. Flattening her body more into the hill side.

“You must be Melmetal!” Raihan padded off the back porch and reached over to the giant glimmering Pokémon. “Ash kept spamming me pictures of you when you were just a Meltant.”

“Raihan!” Ash cries out in embarrassment as his Incineroar caught him in a near bone crushing hug.

“Lycanroc!” Lycanroc barked. Happily padding around Raihan and licking the palm of his hand. Settling down by his feet and watched as Ash pried himself from Incineroar’s hug.

“Hey buddy.” Raihan mumbled. “It’s good to see you too.”

Rowlet cooed above from a branch it settled down. Opening its wings the grass peel Pokémon gently floated down to Raihans waiting arms. The gym leader scooping the grass type form the air and hugging it close. The three watched Ash interact with Incineroar and Melmetal.

Pikachu opted to stay inside, curled up with Raihans Flygon on a pile of blankets by the gas fireplace, then to meet his Alolan team mates.

“Watch’cha thinking about?” Ash asked. Padding over with Incineroar close on his heels. He took Rowlet from Raihans arms and watched happily as Raihan greeted the fire Pokémon. Incineroar purred loudly as it rocked its face more and more into Raihans hands that were petting its cheeks.

“Just ho amazing my boyfriend is!” Raihan teased.

“Ah!” Ash whined wordlessly. Face blooming red in embarrassment. “Raihan!” He grumbled once more.

“Just spitting straight truth!” The large Gyn Leader crowed happily.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Ash groaned grabbing a everyone’s Poké balls, “return everyone!”

“Aw!” Raihan whined jokingly, “and we were just about to have some fun to.”

Ash rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the smile that filtered into his lips. “I would like some fun with my boyfriend to, you know.”

“Oh?” Raihan asked. Pupils already blowing up. “And what kind of ‘fun’ do you want to have?”

Ash didn’t answer. Only using his fingers to beckon Raihan to bend down. He curled his arms and kissed his boyfriends. Arching with a gasp as Raihan slid his hands from the back of Ash’s shoulder blades down to his ass to squeeze it.

Ash was picked up so that Raihan didn’t need to keep bending over to kiss him. Legs curling around Raihans lower stomach as he held on tight.

“I like this kind of fun,” Raihan growled happily against Ash’s lips, making the Champion shutter in expectation, “but I think we’ll have even better fun if we do this in the bedroom.”!

“Take me away then,” Ash giggles when Raihan dove back for a smaller and chaste kiss, “my dear Dragon.”

————

“Well damn.” Piers spoke up. Watching with raised eyebrows as Raihan carried Ash inside. Presumably to go have sex in bed.

“I was...” Nessa’s face scrunched up in thoughtfulness and disgust at the implications of Raihans words hit her, “not expecting that.”

Sonia and Leon didn’t say anything. Their own cheeks a little bit red as they pressed their shoulders more into the grass.

“Welp!” Gordie’s hands hit the grass lightly before pushing himself up. “I’m going home now that we figured this out. Night!”

[og-danny-dorito]

A Few Tommy Shelby Headcanons

why did i decide to make this? good ass question cause idk myself

S F W:

- OK just to start it off, hes probably bisexual

- hear me out okay

- the dude has varied taste in women, obviously. the only distinct traits i could find between them all were short hair and formless figures. this doesn't necessarily mean that he's bisexual, but at the time there was a lot of social stigma around anything that wasn't heterosexual and so I'm fairly certain whatever attraction to men he has has been pushed down

- and pansexual is also very possible but i'd think that he'd get a little confused with gender fluidity or something like that and historically that sort of thing wasn't not all that prominent, especially in England in the 1930s where racism was still a normal thing

- what he probably does is that anytime he sees that a man is like relatively attractive his brain auto-corrects into harsh criticism and sudden scorn for the person for like no reason to cope with his gay feelings

- so you already know he's a stubborn baby man

- he doesn't admit a lot of things, like that he thinks you look nice or that he's happy to see you because his pride gets in the way a lot of the time

- the only time he really does admit anything outwardly is behind closed doors when you're both probably in bed and relaxed, not really thinking of anything. you'd probably hear him say something along the lines of “im a lucky man” or “dont leave me like the rest of them did”

- yeah, his self confidence is extremely low. of course he knows that he's a damn good businessman and a great leader, but he has doubts more often than not that cause him to loose sight of himself

- usually he drinks when this sort of thing happens because he can't help but feel ashamed to admit his feeling. it's a coping mechanism that he uses for pretty much everything, really

- he can't talk about himself very openly, so you'll either have to sit down and drink with him or urge him to speak about what's on his mind because that shit ain't healthy in more ways than one. (you personally can probably think of a million different solutions, those just seem like the most likely)

- speaking of which, he doesn't sleep much either. he can function on barely any sleep at all, but the issue is that before having to get into bed with someone he probably ends up falling asleep at his desk or on a couch or something. he's not sure how the blanket got there while he was sleeping, but he appreciates it regardless

- tommy probably enjoys someone who's confident in themselves or at least carries and air of being confident. people that he's pretty sure could stomp him into oblivion are hot, he can't help it. of course he also likes people who are the quiet type of scary as well. he can't ever figure out what's going on in their head, and it creates a sense of comfort in ignorance but unease in it as well

- i will elaborate on his secret masochism in my nsfw headcanons that i might make later (maybe idk yet)

- his favorite thing to do in his past time is read, honestly. it's a good way to detach from business and a good way to spend time with someone

- he probably likes historical fiction the most. maybe horror too, but he likes all things history. especially if they're about the Great War because honestly he wants to point out the flaws in some of the accounts he was part of

- if it's fine with you he'd rather just read and sleep all day or maybe bake something together if you've got enough time

- he gets frustrated with things that waste his time though so you'll have to probably do it on your own while he grumbles and watches

- if you were any sort of lgbtq+, he'd be that much more protective of you. same goes if you're a woman because in his mind woman=weaker. it's not necessarily true, but he feels an obligation to be protective of a woman. you're probably much stronger than him or at least seem like it, so not unless you tell him to stop treating you like a piece of glass he'll keep an arm around you at all times. a man he'd probably feel less protective of honestly just because he respects pride and dignity, but that doesn't mean he doesn't let up on the protection

- man or woman or anything like that, once you mean something to him you're going to have his boys’ eyes on you everywhere. it's a dangerous life he leads, and while he doesn't really want you to be involved in it to the point of keeping you in constant danger, it can't really be helped. expect to be kept under close inspection within his area and slightly closer inspection out of it

- is very hesitant to let you become a part of business affairs. even being at the meetings makes you a witness, therefore if one of the lower members snitches you might be in danger if your name is spilled. it's very unlikely he'll try to get you into business affairs unless you're trained and well-educated in that sort of thing

- this includes accounting, contract knowledge, and maybe even basic law knowledge amongst other things

- he may want you to come along for business events like parties or something, but if you're after grace there's close to no chance that he's introducing you as his significant other or bringing you at all. if you do come along though, he may introduce you as a whore. if you're a dude though you'll just be a friend coming along with him

- speaking of which, he has really bad PTSD. from the multiple things that's have happened to lead him to the present, it's not unlikely that he'll wake up with frequent nightmares and be triggered by things such as loud noises that are too sudden or someone screaming because they're in pain or something like that. and after the whole grace incident combined with john’s death he's probably even more of a mess

- this of course leads him to drinking quite often. it's no time unlikely for him to get intoxicated nearly every day of the week, and often times he doesn't say a word about it during and after. in fact, now that he has you around he's even more adamant to not talk about it. but he can't really help but talk once he feels safe doing so

- what if you leave him? would you have doubts because he's mentally damaged? what would happen if you did leave? these questions cause anxiety obviously

- but tommy has always paid attention to the little things. for instance, if you see him drunk and happen to sit next to him quietly while talking about something that has nothing to do with it, he'll definitely remember it the next day. the fact that it takes his mind off of whatever he's mourning about is something he really appreciates because he knows he wouldn't be able to do it himself

- he's never been one to have loose lips, but when he's intoxicated he may or may not just spill to you right there. you could be saying something like “- and then she knocked him the fuck out. It wasn't weird to watch cause she-” and he’ll just look you dead in the eye and say “I thought about France again today.”

- it's very likely you'll hear about his past lovers more than once and honestly Tommy is hesitant to talk about it. he may be insensitive sometimes but he's not an idiot, so he knows it may make you uncomfortable

- just listening to him makes all the difference to him. he hasn't felt like someone cared about what he's had to say without being a Shelby for a long time, and you just caring enough to sit and hear what he says means more than any big success in the business or good news from some merchant overseas

- he, in turn, is very good at listening. in fact, he's so good at it that all of that skill got drained from giving advice cause he's horrible at that. his way of handling things isn't great so when he tells you to shoot the guy at work who’s been bothering you in the hand as a “warning”  to the others, don't do it cause

- ok now for random headcanons that are not deep and depressing

- probably likes animals, but honestly if he had to keep one in the house he'd prefer a cat just because they're less strenuous and take less effort to handle. while he's not working he'd like one of them curled up in his lap and purring as he keep some one hand on the pen and the other on it’s head. he'd probably name the cat “Mitten” or “Button” ok let's all be honest with ourselves

- lowkey loves to wear your sweaters or something like that. he'll definitely deny any claims suggesting so, but you know damn we'll he still stealing your clothes whenever he can, feminine or masculine. honestly just having it feel like you're around him all the time by simply wearing your clothes makes him feel really comfortable, especially if you're bigger than him or wear clothes that are bigger than him. it makes him feel safe

- probably also likes it when you in turn wear his clothes. he won't say it out loud but he likes it when he notices that his shirt is missing only to see you groggily fixing yourself coffee/tee/literally anything else in it at like 8AM in the kitchen

- likes the color blue a lot, but red looks really nice on people in formal clothes. if you show up in a red dress or suit or whatever he's definitely going to be fucking you on the table later and that's just the facts

- he gets jealous very easily but never says anything about it. you can tell because he suddenly gets about 10x clingier and literally holds you close to him at all times to make a point. may also stare down anyone that looks in your general direction for good measure

- he gives his s/o flowers all the time, whether he's in person or not. he likes to pamper you to the point where you look like a monarch, but like alfie he fully understands if you're more simplistic and prefer to stay low-profile cause he does too

- guns are sexy and if you can use one or any other weapon that's hot and that's all i'm gonna say about that

- physical appearance doesn't matter to him all that much, but his favorite part of the human body is probably the hands. he likes to see hands that have been through some shit, like scars on them and maybe a little dirt or something from work

- he's always been fascinated by writers and people who can create something from nothing. in fact that sortof imagination is always something's he’s envied and wanted for himself, but he's not hopeless at it. he's very good at making up stories and detecting flaws in plot or logic in the storyline. so if you ever need someone to proof-read for something you missed he's the guy to go to. also he knows publishers all over so if you're having trouble he can hook you up with someone to get your stuff known

- kindof emotionally closed off but he can't help but want to talk when you're around. you're inviting in more ways than one, so he eventually ends up spilling no matter what's wrong

- once it's been established that you're close, the whole family may or may not watch you closely for several weeks trying to figure out whether you're good enough or not. arthur will most likely watch you from afar and give you death glares as a warning and john will defenitely flirt with you to see if you're going to cheat on his brother. finn is probably going to try to make friends with you, but aunt polly will interrogate you because that's what she does. ada will try to get the most information on you from everywhere she can and so and so forth until they finally decide that if tommy picked you you can't be all that bad

- they warm up to you quickly, to put it simply, but tommy will most likely have to shoo them off

- in conclusion, tommy shelby isn't an easy lover, but it's worth the struggle at the end of the day. it's been a while since he's felt someone cared about him, and regardless of the circumstance you bet your ass that once he's grown fond of you there's little to no getting out of it by that point. you're his lifeline, his world, and he plans to grow old with you or at least keep you next to him until he withers away and dies

[psyched2b]

Bawcock

Summary: A glimpse into the domestic/semi-retired life of Bucky Barnes where there’s no such thing as too much sass or love.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: Some swear words; mentions of blood and gore; little bit steamy towards the end

A/N: Here is is! After over a year and four months of nothing new, here we go. Thank you to everyone who has stuck around! A special thanks goes out to @thinkwritexpress-official​ for all her help in making sure this wasn’t a mess and beta-ing for me. Another huge thank you to @mermaidxatxheart​ for supporting me through all the ups and downs of this and convincing me not to throw myself or my computer in a dumpster and set it on fire. Anywho, please enjoy! Feedback is welcomed and appreciated!!!

Masterlist

It was one of those quiet days that Y/N treasured. 

All that was left to do was to wait for Bucky’s return. 

That, and to settle into Bucky’s worn leather armchair that they found at a consignment shop, grab her new book by her favorite philosophical author, and engross herself in the thoughts of another.

It had been over a week since he had left with AmericanAirline, otherwise known as Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson, on a mission to some undisclosed place. 

Having the house to herself had been nice. It gave her time to pamper herself a bit and also to have some much needed girl time with Wanda.

However, if her fiance was going to be any longer, she would have to go ahead and get started on their ‘dream’ garden. They had to get their seeds sown before it was too late in the season. Bucky, nonetheless, was adamant before he left that she wasn’t to so much as touch one weed because this was their garden. And he would be damned if he wasn’t there to partake in the fun. 

Y/N was just waiting for the day for him to ask to get a goat. Not that she would begrudge him one. Her only secret condition would be that they had to name him after one of the Avengers. She would never admit it out loud, but she wanted a whole tribe of them. They had more than enough property and they were a highlight of their time in Wakanda.

Unfortunately, the Three Musketeers were on complete radio silence, meaning that there was no way of knowing where they were at, if they were successful, or when they were due to return. If they came home. 

‘No!’ she mentally chastised herself, wanting to squish that bit of anxiety that tried to creep through the peace. ‘Everything will be fine.’

She had the utmost faith in the Winter Soldier’s capabilities. He would be fine and home soon. Back in her arms. Safe. 

She just had to keep telling herself that.

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It wasn’t until the sun had sunk below the tree line that she heard the opening and closing of the front door. 

“Bucky?” she called out, setting her book to the side. She reached her arms up and curved her back, releasing the tension that had built in her from remaining stationary for so long. 

The man stuck his head around the corner and gave her a wide smile… but something was off. “Hey, darling,” Bucky’s husky voice greeted, causing a familiar shiver to go down her spine. 

Y/N didn’t waste any more time, tossing the book on the coffee table and scrambling out of the nest of blankets she had collected over the hours to scurry over to where he stood in all of his Super Soldier glory.

Her eyes widened in shock. “Holy fuck, Buck. Did you slaughter a pig and bathe in its blood before coming home?” Still dressed in his black stealth gear and equipped in his many, many knives, he was also covered in bits and pieces of coagulated blood and… was that brain matter?

He offered a sheepish smile in return. “Code red, babe.”

“Hm,” Y/N hummed with pursed lips. “I can see that.”

Towards the beginning of their relationship, they came up with a code to let each other know how bad things were mentally or physically upon arrival at home so the other could help where needed. 

Sometimes… Sometimes the missions would leave more than just a physical scar, resulting in restless nights full of nightmares, panic attacks and bouts of anger, but it wasn’t something he would let anyone outside of his house see, not even Steve. She was his safe place and he thanked whatever higher power out there everyday to have someone like her in his life. Sometimes he had thoughts that he wasn’t worth anything, but Y/N was right there, reassuring him that everyone had a purpose in life and without him, the world would be a very different place. Plus, if he was out of the picture, what would be left of her? She’d probably be in some institution herself. 

Together, they kept each other sane. 

Their codes were based on the stoplight system. 

Code red was pretty easy to guess, but in spite of the code, Bucky was still in his ‘everything-is-completely-fine’ persona. She wouldn’t see the mental wounds until later that night. 

Thankfully for the carpet, the ex-Winter Soldier kept his distance, remaining on the tiled flooring of the entryway. They had a rule that no blood was to make it on the carpet, period. If that happened, Y/N would go into a cleaning frenzy until she was certain that everything was back to its original condition. Though the rule carried on from the Compound, this was their first home after all and they would be damned if - for any reason other than godly interference (with the explicit exception of those of Asgardian form) - the house would remain in top-notch condition. 

Together, they had built this home after Thanos and his army was decimated once and for all. They both kept working for a while, doing odd free-lance work here and there, trying to make the world a better place and all. But as soon as the house was completed, a decision had been made to go into retirement...or at least, semi-retirement. It was time to let the younger people take over. Of course, with her, Bucky always felt like he was in the prime of his life. Despite being well over a hundred years old, she kept him young… and in good shape.

He smiled at the thought, hoping that good times were but a shower away. Or maybe good times in the shower? Hm, the possibilities. 

Y/N was oblivious to where his thoughts had gone, worried within her own thoughts, but kept a cool exterior. “Now, question. Just right off the bat. Totally random.” She let her eyes sweep over his gore-covered form. “Is that all just one person’s insides, or multiple persons?” Then she sniffed and made an exaggerated look of disgust. “And when on earth was the last time you showered?” Still, she decided his cheek looked relatively clear of body fluids and went up on her tippy-toes to press a quick kiss to it before stepping back and further assessing her partner with a soft shake of her head. “But seriously, you stink.”

“And yet, you still kissed me,” he gloated, managing to keep his hands to himself, not wanting to dirty her favorite sweater (though they both knew her favorite was one of his; he just wasn’t allowed to bring it up). “Albeit, I wish it was more than just a peck on my cheek, but eh, I’ll take what I can get.” He paused. “For now.” Then he gave Y/N another cheeky smile before heading to the bathroom dubbed the ‘Taint to Daint Area’. Bucky proudly thought of it himself. 

Watching his retreating form, or rather, his retreating ass, Y/N shook her head in disbelief at his antics and quietly asked herself, “Why are you like this?” knowing full well that she wouldn’t have him any other way. 

Bucky smirked at her over his shoulder as he entered the large bathroom and began to remove his many, many knives, dropping them into the sink to be cleaned properly later.“ Depends on what you mean, dollface. Do you mean the irrevocable handsomeness that is moi, the disturbing amounts of coagulated blood on me, or the always exciting vexatious PTSD?”

Peals of laughter erupted from Y/N as she entered the room after him, stopping to lean a shoulder against the doorway that carried the faint scent of lacquer. “Ha ha, smart ass. But no.” She crossed her arms and nodded towards his lower half. “I was actually referring to your shoes.” 

Keep in mind that approximately 89.7% of the time, Sergeant Barnes would wear his “trustworthy” combat boots. Didn’t matter the occasion. Mission. Stark Parties. Vacationing through the Caymans. Cruise trip that turned into a near bioterrorist attack.  He always stood firm on the fact that he had to make sure he was always prepared to kick ass anytime, anywhere, and he wasn’t going to do so in “fucking sneakers.” Mr. Always-Prepared would then make it abundantly clear to everyone “that it wasn’t because he couldn’t do it in sneakers. It just looked cooler with his kickass boots.”

So imagine Y/N’s surprise when the Winter Soldier came home still in all his gear… but with the great exception of the highlighter-yellow Crocs on his feet. And, to top it off? Inside the offensive shoes were shockingly white tube socks instead of his usual black worn in all other instances.

Both were clearly new as they were the only part of his ensemble that remained spared from the obvious bloodbath.

His pale blue eyes flickered down as if having forgotten what he was wearing. He nodded to himself then turned to Y/N and shrugged without a care in the world, moving to disassemble the buckles on his vest. “They’re surprisingly functional,” he answered simply. 

As if that explained anything. 

Y/N moved to grab the plastic tote kept under the sink for such disrobing instances. It kept the rest of the house safe from a variety of bodily fluids until the offending clothes made way to the laundry room… or if bad enough, the burn pile a quarter-mile deep in the woods. 

 “Right,” she articulated speculatively. “As opposed to the boots you swear will go to the grave with you?”

Bucky dropped the dark vest into the tote, leaving him in a damp black tank top before moving to disassemble his thigh harness. 

Y/N once again had to restrain herself from where her thoughts led. 

“Fewer laces to undo to get me down to my knickers,” he snickered at her, knowing exactly where her thoughts had drifted to. 

She had to force herself not to blush. “You’re avoiding the topic.”

With an exaggerated sigh from him, she knew she was in for a story. Bucky dropped the harness to the ground and took a seat on the ledge of the bath, turning his undivided attention to his wonderful and naughty fiance. “Well, to start, I put part of the blame on you.”

Y/N gasped loudly. “Me?”, she asked incredulously, pressing a hand to her chest as it was one of the most ridiculous things she had ever heard. “How?”

Bucky nodded his head with a solemn expression, looking down at his brightly covered feet. “Yes, you,” he affirmed. “Let’s see. It all started after the bloodbath of a lifetime and I was covered head to toe in various body parts and goo and shit. Then I realized we had to travel 12 clicks back to base camp… and my shoes were squishy and just gross.”

The skeptical woman looked up at the ceiling as if it held all the answers to this craziness before refocusing her attention on her clearly delusional man. “As if ‘gross’ boots have ever stopped you before,” she pointed out. “‘I’m a hard man that served my country. Even almost got trench foot. I like to bathe in the blood of my enemies.’ Blah blah blah,” she mimicked in a gruff voice, trying to do her best impression of Bucky. 

Bucky scowled at her in response. “I do not sound like that.”

Y/N shrugged, “Mm, sure you don’t. Still fail to see how any part of your footwear preferences is my fault.”

The Super Soldier pouted at her for a moment before realizing she wasn’t going to let up on the subject. With another hearty sigh, he continued. “You’re part in this is that you now have me accustomed to a life of luxury and comfort. I used to be a total badass. And I did have trench foot, thank you very much. But now? The thought of having to walk miles to base from the mission point in… well, I’ll spare you the details, but let’s just say that there was no way in hell that was going to happen. Just plain gross.”

“Gross,” she echoed flatly, trying to decide if he was punking her or if he was being serious. 

Bucky gave a hum of affirmation, reaching behind him to turn on the shower before working on getting his pants off. 

She shook her head to clear it, holding a hand up. “Okay. Fine. Life of luxury. Whatever. Now I just have two questions. What happened to your old boots and where the hell did you find those...monstrosities?” She paused for a moment. “Correction. I have three. First, how the heck did you of all people end up drenched in human bits? You’re the most meticulous and precise person I’ve ever met, this isn’t your usual style. Nor Steve’s, and I highly doubt Sam would be a part of whatever this,” she gestured to the tote between them, “is.”

For the first time since returning home, Bucky’s playful demeanor dropped as he scowled at the soiled clothes. “There were civilians,” he grunted out, angrily shucking off his pants. 

Y/N sucked on her teeth, suddenly understanding the severity of the situation. “Hostages?”

Bucky threw his hands up in exasperation before testing the water to make sure it was at an agreeable temperature. “That’s what we all thought! Wasn’t the case… at all,” he spat out bitterly. Water evidently to his liking, he stripped the rest of the way and stepped under the high-pressured spray. 

Y/N didn’t hesitate to strip and climb into the shower behind him, immediately going to wrap her arms around his waist from behind, settling her forehead on the spot between his shoulder blades. “How bad?” she asked.

Beneath her, the man let out a shudder of breath, his shoulders slumped forward, head dropping. He reached out with one hand to grasp the wall as if anchoring himself to something solid. Then, he whispered, “There was only one way for it to end.”

There was a moment of silence. “I’m sorry,” she finally whispered, moving so they stood chest to chest. She reached up, cupping his cheek within her palm. “We can talk more about it when you’re ready.” 

He smiled at her, a small one, but real this time, ducking his head to hers and pulled her closer. “I love you.” 

Y/N smiled back. “I love you too, bawcock.”

She could see the ‘Error 404’ happening in Bucky’s mind when he stood up straight, staring blankly at her. Y/N let out a small giggle, grabbing the shampoo and lathering his hair, waiting for him to catch up.

As she was beginning to rinse his hair, he snapped out of it. “Bawcock?” he questioned loudly, confusion taking over his expression. “Bawcock? What the fuck?!” Y/N let out another giggle, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling herself closer. “Yes, Bawcock.” Giving him a brilliant smile that had his heart skipping a beat, she explained, “It means, ‘a fine fellow’.” She pressed up on her toes, getting close enough that their lips were just centimeters from meeting, teasing him. Before he could give in and kiss her, she pulled back with another sly smile. “It’s either that or Lambkins. Your choice.” 

Bucky’s hands dropped to her ass and picked her up, her legs instinctively wrapping around his middle. He dropped his forehead to hers and whispered. “I swear, you are so much trouble.” 

She pressed her bare breasts against his chest and tightened her legs around him, looking up at him through her eyelashes. “But you wouldn’t have me any other way,” she replied smugly, tangling her fingers in his now short locks. 

Unable to hold back any longer, Bucky pressed his lips against hers, pouring the emotions he was feeling into his movements, Y/N’s touch lifting some of the darkness brewing under his skin.

Y/N was the one to pull back, panting. “I will never get used to that.”

He nuzzled her neck, pressing small kisses randomly. “Good, because we have a lifetime together of it.”

“Even longer, bawcock.”

Bucky pulled back with a scowl. “No. That’s not going to stick.”

Y/N arched an eyebrow in defiance. “Oh yeah? And how are you going to stop me?”

“Oh, I’ll show you,” he responded with a mischievous grin, slowly dropping to his knees. He pressed a slow kiss to her stomach before making eye contact with her. “All I’m going to be hearing for the next while will be my name and some of those beautiful moans I love to hear coming from your lips.” 

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In the end, they both got what they wanted. 

The end. ______________________________________________________________________

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