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dont-offend-the-bees · 1 month

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Something I Can Turn To

And now for something different again! I took the AU in 'Domestic AU' and I ran with it! So this is your classic sort of everyone's alive alternate universe, set some nebulous time in the current-ish era, wherein Charles and Edwin attended school together and both survived (slash saved each other from) their canon deaths. It's just a sweet and slightly sad little thing that doesn't go into a huge amount of detail, but I got very attached to it so who knows, maybe in future I'll expand on the backstory! Warnings for references to their pasts and the bullying, child abuse etc. that went on there, as well as to injuries, scars and trauma that resulted from it. But we're not getting into super nitty-gritty detail and hopefully the overall vibe is one of love and safety! Still, tread carefully if those topics are at all triggering for you 💛 2.3k, T-rated, also available on Ao3. Thanks again, @painlandweek!

"Charles!" Edwin called — bravely poking his face out from the warm duvet to be heard. "The advertisements are over!"

"Coming, coming!"

Charles scurried into the room moments later, two cups of tea in his hands. He huffed and puffed as he padded along the floorboards in hole-riddled socks. "Cold, cold, cold," he muttered, thrusting the cups towards Edwin in a sloshy, mildly dangerous manner. "Grab these a sec!"

Edwin did so, wincing as his arms breached the bounds of the duvet nest to the frigid air beyond. Once Charles had his hands free he wasted no time diving into bed, burrowing into the pocket of warmth.

"Mate, it's fucking cold," he said, reclaiming his mug. "Freezing my bollocks off out there."

"Perhaps we should have prioritised buying that space heater, after all," Edwin mused.

"Oi. 'Nuff of that. That kettle's a bloody essential bit of kit."

Edwin sipped his tea. Scalding hot, just as he liked it. "Hmm. Agreed."

Charles squirmed around getting comfortable, taking care not to spill his tea. He almost succeeded. "Ow. So! What'd I miss?"

"Nothing whatsoever — you made it back just in time." Edwin settled in as well, against the headboard — though by headboard, he of course meant the bare magnolia wall. "I must say, I'm intrigued by this one. I wonder how Detective Columbo's going to get this villain dead to rights."

"Always fakes you out, don't he?" Charles grinned, finally finding his space — pressed up against Edwin, hip to shoulder. "Mm — pass us the biccies."

Edwin handed him the somewhat depleted packet of ginger snaps. "Do be careful of the crumbs — we've only one fitted sheet to our name."

One sheet, one duvet. Two pillows. No bed frame. It was a modest sleeping arrangement. Particularly for two grown men, squeezed onto a mattress that was only a double by the barest technicality. But on these cold winter nights, that closeness had its benefits. Several benefits, in fact.

As though reading his mind, Charles grinned. "What?" He waggled his eyebrows. "Never messed about on a bed of biscuit crumbs?"

Edwin groaned and, lightly, pressed his palm to Charles' face and pushed it away. "You're revolting," he said.

Charles just laughed. "What? It's just like sex on the beach, really." He bit down on a biscuit. Loudly. "Bit crunchier."

"You will never persuade me that sex on a beach is a good idea," said Edwin, with a shudder. "The sand..."

"Sex in the sea, then?"

"Best of luck with your urinary tract infection."

Charles’ laughter rolled pleasantly in Edwin's ears as he nestled in properly, head on Edwin's shoulder.

Edwin chuckled in turn, draping his arm around Charles, fingers sinking into his hair. He played absently with Charles' unruly curls, as Columbo talked circles around his latest hapless ne're-do-well.

It was a strange little life they'd carved out for themselves, here in this sparsely-furnished nest. They had Edwin's scholarship to thank, and the student housing fund he'd received alongside. Though Charles helped as best he could with his meagre earnings from his part-time job at the local gym, they barely scraped by. Charles might've also been able to apply for student loans, once upon a time. But he'd never managed to bounce back after the sharp decline of his grades in year eleven. And what else could anyone have expected? It had taken all of his considerable strength to get back on his feet after what happened to him. Every ounce of his tenacity to return to his life after the incident that had almost ended it.

Edwin would not soon forget those hideous, harrowing weeks. Counting days of silence, of filling the Rowland family's voicemail to no acknowledgement. Of pitying expressions from hospital staff as they turned him away, time after time. Stewing and seething in the fear and the worry. In the rage of being told that he had less of a right to visit his best friend than the man who'd covered his back in belt scars did. Edwin didn't sleep, he didn't eat, he worried himself away night by night, and the boys who did the damage? Oh, they were suspended. For less time than it took for Charles to return to form. Back to school with a slap on the wrist. Any notions Edwin might've still held about there being justice in the world had been quite thoroughly quashed by that ruling.

It was a miracle Charles even found the strength to attend school for his last two years — let alone the same school. The one where he had, to reiterate, nearly lost his life to hypothermia and internal injuries at the hands of his hooligan 'friends'. Edwin had scarcely believed his eyes when he'd spied Charles across assembly that Tuesday morning. A month with no word and suddenly there he was, beaten and battered and more beautiful than Edwin's heart could take.

His parents — or at least his mother — had wished to transfer him, of course. But Charles, in true Charles fashion, dug in his heels and refused to be moved. Edwin had cornered him that very morning, on the stairs after assembly. He must have been angry — because he shouted at Charles when all he truly wanted to do was collapse into his arms.

"I cannot believe you would stay here in this barbaric horror show after what those boys did to you," Edwin had snapped, eyes stinging with the threat of tears to fall. "That is so fucking stupid it's unbelievable!"

"Sorry," Charles had replied — not sounding sorry in the slightest. His stitched-up split lip curled with his weary smile. "No version of this where I don't stick this out with you, is there?"

And that, as far as Charles had been concerned, was the matter closed.

The simple fact was that Edwin had never had a choice in which school he would attend. St. Hilarion's was in the family tradition; his father, grandfather, great grandfather, all honoured alumni. And if Edwin's own incident a year earlier hadn't been enough to convince his father otherwise, then nothing else would. The only way Edwin was leaving that school before graduation was in a body bag. And Charles, the stubborn fool, could only be convinced to leave Edwin in the same manner.

And so for the last two years of hell they had tried, in their own ways, to keep their heads down. 'Tried' being the operative word. Charles could never leave well enough alone, and fights were amassed. But every time he showed up to their hideout in the attic with a black eye or bloody knuckles, it was always the same story. One where he saw someone else being bullied, and threw himself at the situation as a substitute punching bag. Sometimes, the person he was protecting was Edwin. More often than not, it was some boy he'd never exchanged two words with. Made no odds to him.

And no matter how it terrified Edwin, or how he admonished Charles, he could never truly take issue. To resent Charles for being protective would be to resent him for being tragically, quintessentially Charles. In the end there was nothing he could do but patch Charles together with his pilfered first aid kit, and plead with him to be more careful. Maybe, just maybe, it would sink into his thick skull one day.

While Charles spiralled, Edwin studied. And studied, and studied, and studied. During slow lessons, after hours in the library, in the dead of night under the covers — he preferred to catch his sleep in daytime naps, anyway. For obvious reasons, sleeping in the dorm around the other boys had lost its appeal. There were days where he was so exhausted he could do nothing in his lunchtime trysts with Charles but sleep. At times it seemed there was no safe place in the world besides that dusty attic, with Charles' thigh as his pillow.

It was worth it, the sleepless nights, the borderline mania of his studies. With his stellar grades at sixth form, Edwin secured a scholarship on the other side of the country — fully paid. Meaning freedom, at last, from the golden shackles of his father's money. He'd packed everything he could carry into a backpack and his grandfather's old leather travel case. And with the first money he'd ever had to his name and no one else's, he made his first purchase: two train tickets. One way.

It wasn't an entirely seamless escape, of course. When he'd walked to the Rowland house to collect Charles, he'd found him scrambling through the narrow window of his basement bedroom. Nothing on him but the clothes on his back, and a fresh bruise across his jaw. But escape they had — and Charles had slept the entire way to Edinburgh, head on Edwin's shoulder. Safe and sound, at last.

It had felt good to be able to rescue Charles, for a change. He'd been playing the hero for others long enough.

Edwin scratched lightly at Charles' scalp as the Columbo credits rolled. He smiled when Charles snuffled and nuzzled into the sensation in the manner of a contented old dog.

"What's on next?" asked Charles, drowsy.

"I believe there's an episode of QI on the next channel." Edwin enjoyed that programme — some of the humour was a bit crass for his tastes, but he almost always learned something interesting.

"Tenner says Alan comes last place."

Edwin rolled his eyes. "Easy money. And I haven't got a tenner."

"Fiver?"

"No."

"One-er?"

Edwin laughed. "I shall wager you... a kiss."

Charles perked up. "I'll take that action!"

"I hope you never take up a gambling habit, Charles," said Edwin, fondly. "Why on Earth would you place bets for something you can have at any time, in abundance?"

"Yeah, but it's not just a kiss, is it? It's a victory kiss. I get to be all smug and that."

"Charming."

"Oh, I'm a charmer." Charles smiled up at him crookedly, eyes hooded. "All the fit lads love me."

Affection bubbled in Edwin's chest as he looked down upon him. It was a flagrant hollow boast — Edwin knew better than anyone how dire Charles' opinion of himself could be. A situation that had only worsened in recent years, as the beatings from home and school grew more frequent and harder to hide under shirts. The scar on his lip had never fully healed. Nor had the proud sweep of his nose recovered from the time it was broken and poorly reset. He was a war-torn thing, and a bit of a hodgepodge. Elegant frame under rugged wounds, topped off with subtly effete highlights of gold earring and smudged eyeliner. Eyes older than his years, and a newly gap-toothed grin that could still light up the room. He was a strange young man, a walking contradiction; and Edwin loved him dearly, fiercely, and oh-so-terribly.

Edwin leaned down, dropping a sweet kiss between Charles' eyes — just above his broken nose. "I should think so. You're very easy to love."

Charles blinked up at him, a flash of vulnerability in his dark eyes. Edwin gathered him close under his arm before he could do something silly like second guess his affection, or shy away.

"Now shush," said Edwin primly, cupping his warm tea to his chest. It was an awful mug, scrounged from a charity shop with a chip in the rim. It declared the holder a certified 'Tired Old Queen', and it was always Edwin's mug without question. "Mister Fry is about to tell us the theme of the week."

And for a little while, that was that. Edwin followed the programme, rapt, humming in interest at new information — and rolling his eyes at the obvious blunders of the panel. Charles did not speak for some time, still warm against Edwin's side. Sometimes, upon being paid a compliment, he needed to sit a while and let it absorb.

It was the ad break, and Edwin was considering braving the arctic chill of the unheated flat for another tea, when Charles spoke again.

"Edwin?"

"Hm?"

Charles wrapped the arm clutching his — now empty — chequered mug around Edwin's waist. "When the Beeb come and drag me away for not paying the telly licence, will you visit me in prison?"

It was so out-of-pocket that Edwin couldn't help but laugh. "Well. Technically, I will be the one going to prison," he said. "It is my name on the apartment lease."

"Would you want me to visit you in prison, then?"

Edwin flicked Charles' earring, playful. "Obviously, Charles."

He could feel Charles' grin against his shoulder. "Brills. You tell me the layout, and I'll bust you out."

"That is not what I agreed to."

"I'll chat to that new girl at the gym, Crystal? Bet she'd help with a prison break. Reckon she's got a wild side."

"Charles," he said, flatly. "I'll not have you imprisoned with me when your madcap scheme goes awry."

"Why not?" said Charles, giving Edwin a warm squeeze. "That's the whole point of doing it."

Edwin scoffed — but his heart was beating ten to the dozen. "Charles —"

"Nope. Sorry." Charles took Edwin's empty mug from his hand — and leaned up to plant a loud, obnoxious kiss on his cheek. "Looks like you're stuck with me. Prison's not getting you out of this relationship, mate."

He made as if to leave the duvet igloo — and immediately hissed at the cold. "Although this bloody apartment might — fucking hell. Going outside; I may be some time."

Edwin rolled his eyes. "Oh, for goodness' sake." He inched over to the edge of the bed and gathered the duvet about both their shoulders like a cape, tucking his arm neatly around Charles' waist. "There. If we make haste, we can be back before the general ignorance round." He met Charles’ eyes, stoic. “No man left behind.”

Charles’ smile was a soft and doting thing; somehow it warmed Edwin deeper than any space heater ever could. He wrapped his arm around Edwin's shoulder. Their feet dangled side by side, toes flexed to avoid premature contact with the chilly floor. "Together on three, then?”

Edwin smiled back, and nodded. "One."

Charles bumped their heels together in companionship. "Two..."

Edwin returned the gesture, in commiseration for the unpleasantness to come. A cold and bitter expedition to the kettle lay ahead; but as in all things, they’d tough it out together.

"Three!"

Thanks for reading, this one's very dear to my heart - would love to know what you think 💛 Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the lovely comments you guys have been leaving on my fics - I have SO many to catch up on but I promise I'm gonna reply to them! I love talking to you and really appreciate you talking to me 💛💛💛 Not sure right now whether there'll be a fic for tomorrow (canon divergence/case fic) or the day after (free day). I have nothing written, none of my ideas are really sticking, and I'm still feeling kind of ill. I might end up just posting some ink sketches instead! But whether there's fics tomorrow/Saturday or not, there will defo be a fic Sunday 💛 Thanks so much, my lovelies - I'll be seeing you soon 💛💛💛

#painlandweek #painland week #payneland #dead boy detectives #dbda #my fanfic #might be posting this one like an hour before it's technically day 4 timezone wise #but my hands are hurting and i have people coming over soon so i kind just need to put the laptop away for a bit!#thank you for all the love this week guys seriously 💛#maybe if i end up not writing tomorrow/sat i'll actually have some time to catch up on the stuff you guys have been writing!#need to start giving some of the love back!

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silverhallow · 3 months

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A Little drabble for @benedictscorner based on her Headcanon from Twitter:

Snapped

“No seriously watch…” Colin smirked to his eldest brother who was looking incredulously between Colin and Benedict.

Anthony rolled his eyes but turned his concentration to Benedict who was sketching his two Nephews sitting on the rug in their mothers drawing room.

“Eloise was telling me that Sophie…”

*crack*

Benedict cursed himself silently, as hearing the name of his sisters new ladies maid, the woman who completely consumed his thoughts, his dreams, his every being, caused his hands to tighten in an effort to control his other bodily urges and it was the 8th time this week he’d snapped the charcoal he was using. At this rate the man in the shop was going to think him an amature.

“Huh…” Anthony said his brow raised “i see what you mean” he said gesturing to Colin with his tea cup.

“I told you”

“told him what?” Benedict asked his brain finally tuning into their conversation

“That whenever Sophie’s name is mentioned you seem to snap your charcoal, or drop your drink” Colin said with a knowing smirk

“That’s not true” Benedict lied as he turned his face to hide the blush he knew was forming, and cursing that he could feel the heat spreading to his ears.

“I actually believe it might be” Anthony said “Kate told me you spilt your brandy down you last evening when the maid walked passed…”

“And Penelope told me that Eloise has seen you snapping many a charcoal this last week…” Colin smirked

Benedict hated how astute his sisters in law were, how nosy their own sisters were. “Coincidences” he lied again as he coughed and decided to reach for his tea.

But as he went to take a sip, there was a knock on the door and as it opened Sophie’s dark blonde curls appeared around the door and Benedict instantly dropped his hot tea all over his lap and let out a curse.

“Oh, I am so sorry I didn’t mean to startle you… Lady Bridgerton and Mrs Bridgerton sent me to see if Edmund and Thomas wished to join them for biscuits” Sophie said rushing over to assist.

Benedict very quickly brushed her off, he didn’t need her hands on him, or near him as he knew he’d end up frustrated and hard and his brothers were already laughing, Colin had nearly fallen off his chair in an effort to keep his hysterics quiet.

“I am fine” Benedict croaked, “I…”

Anthony finally decided to take pity on his brother “boys go with Miss Beckett. Amma and Mama will be waiting with fresh biscuits”

Both young boys took Sophie’s hand and once she was out of the room with the boys Anthony turned on his brother “she’s our sister's ladies maid Benedict… learn to control it. I’d hate to have to let her go because you can’t keep it in your breeches and you will be the one to explain to Eloise and hyacinth why she’s gone…”

Benedict just groaned. He really did need to learn to control this, not only for his sanity but for his art… it was costing him a fortune in new charcoals… but right now…

He needed new breeches.

#ash’s Drabbles #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #sophie beckett #benophie #anthony bridgerton #colin bridgerton

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glitchy1938 · 19 days

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Part 2-Pilot

Whence they arrive, they start looking for the last piece for the RailGun, while looking at the trash Uzi found it, suddenly, The murder drones Jump's in the air, when Uzi saw it she yelled : "Y/n ! Go hide now !!"

She then put the core inside of her railgun getting ready to shoot ,when she was about, the murder drone land's in front of her. Then she start to fall back causing to drop her railgun on the ground, she then did a back flip

"Whoa--, and they said pirating all the Anime was useless." She said, The murder drone was infront of her now, stabbing his tail into her hand, then dragging her into the air and then trows her at the Engine part. She looked at her hand in a horrible pain, and saw an acid was melting her, She looked at her railgun while the murder drone turn around about to shoot her, but you trow a rock at him

Y/n : "Leave my sister alone !…" That made him look at you, you froze to scared, but it was no trying to hurt you, he turn his head like if he KNOW YOU ?… But Uzi got her RailGun and was ready to shoot him in the face, she made the killer drone look

Uzi : "Bite me !!" She then pulled the trigger of her RailGun, and shoot the murder drone on his head, she then saw in her visor {Recharge 30:00} And then saw him fall on the ground… She was shock… It work… IT ACTUALY WORK !!!

Uzi : "Holy Hell… SUCK ON THAT, DAD !!" She said with a lot of pride, but then she saw y/n start to cry and your sister ran up to you and pick you up and start trying calm you down "Hey hey !.. Shhh~ it's okay.. I'm okay.." She said, trying to calm you down, but you were too sleppy that made Uzi giggle " You can sleep, i'm here.." You nood and then passed out.. She sighs with relief and fatigue.

But then, the murder drone was getting back up, that made Uzi more worried, trying to look for another weapon while you were still in her arm's, she then grab an arm and slap it for making any damage but then, she saw the screen saiyng : "System reboot", then, he opens his eyes and … ??? : "Did you just slap me with that arm ?" He said pointing it, she then step back. Shock that those things can talk.

Uzi : "Holy crap, it can talp." She said, still holding the little y/n in her arm's. He start to rub the back of her head, a little embarrass about what just happend… "Yeah, sorry-- It's just, my, uh, head kinda hurts.. Hey, are you new to our squad ? You're a little, uh…" She looked at her, with suspisious eyes…

"…Short for a disassembly drone…Even for-"He then saw the child "Wait- OH MY ROBOT-GOD !! Is that a child ?!" He yelled very happy, like he never saw a little kid before, but then stopped.

??? : " Sorry ^^', I'm Serial designation N ! Nice to meet you ! I'm kind the leader of the squad in this city… That's not true.. Everyone tells me i'm useless and terrible…W-wait, i-i'm not supposed to tell you that part !! Arg ! Biscuits…!Sighs"

He cover his mouth and talk again, "Well, honestly is the best policy. chuckles I also, can't seem to remember the past tree hours of my life." He used his hand to wave it of "Ah, but i'm sure that'll sort itself out !" He chuckle sat Uzi.

Uzi : "Uh-huh…We, uh, Have to… go." Uzi said, taking you with her and start to leave but she groaning a bit of pain because of the injury on her hand.

N : "Oof, stuck yourself ? Just pop it in your mouth !" He says pointing his mouth

"Our saliva neutralizes the nanites, otherwise, i'd be constantly dissasembling my self ! "

Uzi : "And by 'Our saliva', you mean…" She pauses

"Dissasembly drones ?" Both of them say it…

Uzi : "Right. hey, let's go in that landing pod over there" She says pointing the debrie of the landing pod.

N : "Sure ! I love doing anything !" He give to Uzi a smile

once inside, N pull away Uzi's Hand, "Sweet, Uh..Chuckels I'm open to new things, I guess.." He was a little weird out. "We are never talking about this" Uzi warned him. But Y/n was on his lap, still slepping

N : "Talking about what ?" He laugh, but looked down at y/n, and pat her head, then said "Consider it, uh, repressed.." He made his arms like an X

Uzi : "Uh, you mentioned other member of your squad ?" She asked N looking at the window while y/n was holding on him, he loved how you are so small and cute, but to him, you were very familiar to him…

Uzi : "Are they coming back soon ?" She asked, worried for your safety. I mean, N didn't kill you or anything, and even adore you, but she's afraid for the other… Mayde they are not all friendly as N.

N : "Oh, yeah-- Tree others. They're out hunting for a bit, but you'll love them, first there's V !"

~Flashback~

V tears a drone's entrails out, with a crazy smile. "No, no !! Don't eat my own entrails in front of my family !!" But she didn't care less, kill him and drink/eat his oil… After feeding she stand up

V : "And yet, I still feel nothing." she says, as her eye twitches like a crazy psycho… N chuckles nervously, then want back to talk to her…

N : Sooo,V, Uh.. chuckles nervously I heard that this planet-wide toxic death storm is supposed to be espesially inhospitable tonight…

V picks at her teeth with her claw, "Huh ?-.." Then jumps seeing N.

V : "Oh, God !! Who are you ?!!" But before N could have intruduce himself, she flew away from him, flew in the air, leaving a hug puff of smuck behing he. "Uh, No worries ! I'm N ! B-but a-a whole letter is a lot to remember..!" He chuckels sadly…

~Now~

N : "So obviously a lot of natual respect there, but, uh… She's kind my rival for my crush, BUT YOU DON'T TELL HER OKAY ?!!" He yelled but not too loud for waking you up. Uzi zip her mouth and give a smile and N did it back. " Then, there is Z..- My best friend !!-"

~Flashback~

Z was tearing an other Worker who shoot her and N in the back, and when she finish she clean herself, she turn to N. "Sorry…!! I should have pay more attetion of that !! Are you akay ?!" She came to him cheking if he was okay, and luckily, he was fine.

N blush a little bit because she was VERY close to him "He he..^^' yea i-i'm okay !- Chuckels nervously

Suddely, V came behing them with angry look, she was clearly jealous of how N get all her intention for him, then she came closer to Z and hug her tight and pulle away a little of N. "Z !! Oh my God !! I found you !!" She at that moment change completely infront of her. "Oh- hi V, good to see you too ! How have you-" But then she saw the two of them looking at each other with bad look…

Z : "Guys… ? Hey hey ! Let's just head back home, okay ?…"

The two of them looked at her and they agree with her but still didn't stop just here…

~Now~

N : "So yeah, Z is, the sweet person in our squad ! You gonna love her, but, uh… I kind have a crush on her, BUT YOU DON'T TELL HER OKAY ?!!" he yelled again, but not too much, Uzi zip again her mouth for that she will not. He smile again. "Uh, then, there's J-- Our leader !" He said with a little bit made trying to keep smilling…

~Flashback~

J had N pinned to the ground "N, You're worthless and terrible, and if the company allow it, I woudl straight up kill you myself." J hisse as N try to breath, just at this moment, Z push her out for letting N breath, "J !! Are you crazy ?! Stop bulling him :( !!" J was really piss of by that, but just go away.

N Just thank her for the warning, and promes to be carefull next time…

~Now~

"J's awesome" N said a little sad but y/n woke up.. "No !" Uzi said, "We-Uh… I mean, the worker drones, we could work with them to fix this space ship ! Instead of all murder !" She point N, angry at him. "Which, uhh-- Why are we doing that again ?"

N : "Other than Ingesting their…" He went a deep spooky voice "Warm, sweet.." He went back to friendly mode "… To avoid overheating and dying ? I guess I just want to be useful. I was given a job, and I always wanna try my best"

Uzi : "And look at all the respect it's gotten you, N ! You really think the company isn't going to dispose of you once all the workers are dead ?!" Uzi yell, furious at him."

N : "Oh my ! You sure are rebelious, it's kind of exciting.. U-uh… But not as fun as, uh, following the rules"

Then, they heard something land on the ship…"Hey ! They're back ! You'll--" but before N could finish, Uzi was out already of the ship.

J : "Hey, idiot ! Get out of here !" Uzi was still running, but she forgot y/n. "Shoot, shoot ! Y/n !!" She run back for her but then, V saw her, and that made her more scared and try to get back home, hating herself for leaving you there….

V : "Yo, we got a worker out there, I kind of wanna practice balloon animal shape with. What happend here ?- Wait- Is that y/n ?!!" V said with full of joy and run of to N taking you from him and hugging you tight. "No way !! We misse you so much y/n !!" Z said happy to see you too. But then saw N not moving. "What's got into him ?"

J : "Synergistic liability here must have tripped and knocked himself offline." She said annoying, then smacks N's head. "Hey yo, moron bot ! Hello ?!" She snaps her fingers on his face.

He start to reset himself and looked back what happend… "You really think the company isn't going to dispose of you once all the workers are dead ?!" It show on the video what he saw, when he realise… Well… "Oh- Ohhhhh !! you know, I-I-I left an extremely dangerous weapo- Uh, an excuse o-outside !" He run of, leaving J, V, Z and y/n there. V show a flag saying (Litteraly so insanely suspicious)

Uzi still running to the bunker and knew N was chassing her… While in the Bunker… The workers still playing cards. -"Haha ! I'm out boys !!" -"Oh, gosh darnt it ." -"Wait until my loving wife and kids hear about this." The game was stop by the door open and Uzi running in, the workers was complaining about this, Uzi aggresively try to close the door.

Uzi : " Ugh, Bite me ! Close it close it !!" Uzi tried to swipe the keycard, but then, N stick his claws between the doors before they close, but then he saw the workers was playing cards. "Hey fellas ! Oohs deal me in ! I love Rummy !" But then remember why he's here "Wait, no. Tsk, I'm going to murder everyone… Rain check !"He used his tail to stab the keycard to open the door, and it opend all of them…

Everyone started to run for there lifes

N used his fire missiles to explode one of them and then tacos the other one and rip them apart and drinking the oil from them… Uzi turned as her gun was ready to shoot, but when she was prepared, N disappeared. Uzi looked around to found him, but then, heard her father walking. "Pretty nice hydraulics ?-" But then saw the carnage, and looked at her daughter, horrified for what happend…

Khan : "What have you done ?!" He asked her "Dad ! I-I can explain-" But before she could, N landed in front of them making them almost fall into the groun, but Uzi stand up and points her gun at him, ready to shoot. "This time, i won't miss". He chuckeld evilly but stop and look at her "I'm sorry. I really enjoyed our time together, but I can't have you shooting V with tha thing."

Uzi : "Bite me !" she yelled at him. "Dad, get down !" She turned to her father. Khan : "Uzi, you led a Murder drone here ?!" He sounded fearfull. "My beautiful doors ! Where is your sister ?!" He cried. That made Uzi hurt, thinking that, you were hurt our killed.

"Now is not the time !! I messed up-- In the same way i'm about to fix it ! Move dad !" She orded her father, but N used his wings to stab her into the wall. He pull away her gun for not using it again, Uzi's gun fall infront of Khan. "D-dad ! P-point and Shoot ! Trust me !!"

His hands were shaking as he saw N get ready to kill her, he could do anything excepet, slowly back away from there. Uzi look at him… Horrified about what he was doing… "Dad ?…" he called out… But he then closed the door, leaving his own daughter die.

Uzi still look at where her dad left. Shocking and angry for what he did, leaving her to die, she tremble from the pain, but didn't resist at agains N, leaving him finish her off… N looked at her, feeling bad for Uzi, as he heard J coming, he trow Uzi into the box before they could find her.

J : "Whoat N ! Am I dreaming, or did you do somthing not useless for once !" as she, V and Z crawls on the ceiling and drop down. V and J had sinister smiles while Z try her best to hide all the blood/oil from Y/n. Y/n was looking for Uzi, luckly, you saw her still alive, and that made you happy "I'v been trying to get past those doors for months now ! Good job, N" After V said that N was suprice that she remember his name.

N : "You… Me… Name…Remember ?" But V didn't care less "These ventilation shafts can easily get us around this last door, "Z you want to come ?" She turn to Z who was still with y/n, But insted of agree with her she just said "No, thanks V but uh… I think I'll just stay with y/n in an other part where there is no death body hehe…" She didn't complain and says " Okay, Lowest body count eats a missile !" she then go trow the vent again, laughing like a psyco while Z take y/n somewhere else.

J come closer to N, enjoy he finally change. "Way to go, stud. The company's gonna love this !" She said, pating his back while he was chuckling. "With this colony wiped, we'll make top team this quarter for sure, you know what that means ?~" She then show his a pen of they company "Branded pe-pens !" N Look at the pen with admiration, she then give it to him, and turn to go where V go. N was looking at the pen… But remember what Uzi said and what happend… He didn't want to stond up to J but…

N : "Uh, you know, not that I can't wait to keep murdering all these, uh… Maybe not-so-actually-different from us Worker Drones, but just outta curiousity, do we actually, uh…" He hisse a little… Afraid about what J would say… "Know what the company plans to do with us aftwards ?" When he said that, Uzi wake up and heard what happend and what he said.. While J was comfuse about that.

J : "Excuse me ?" she turn to N, really piss off that, N would think otherwise of the company… He then explain, "Okay, so, a Worker earlier might have suggested that they could fix our landing pod to, uh, escape the planet and stuff which-- Whoa, hey, that's against the rules !" he remind her for not be too mad at him "But it is kind of making me question why our pod were only-one way in the first place, 'cause y-you know, I get the feeling the company doesn't actually love robots, and like, we might be robots ?.." He look at her again, and knew he start to be stupid again..

N : "I'v made a terrible mistake, it's cool how immediately i could tell" J then came closer to him "Hmm, no way buddy, questioning the company ? You just finally gave me the excuse I needed." She then instale a device in N with a electro that paralize him up, he then fall to his knees" Worker drones are corrupted N, that's why the company sent us." J said turning to N "I hate to see you corrupted as well~" she said, but just acting like she cared for him. N just smile and said with a glicth voice "Thanks J, always looking out for me…" and then he fall on the ground, "You're aswesome…" She just scoffs and jump into the vent where the other worker drones are… When she left Uzi came out of the box as the same time as Z, when Z saw N she was REALLY pissed at J, Uzi looked at his little sister and ran up to her and hugged her, because she was about to cry.

Uzi : "Y/N !! I'M SO SORRY WHEN I LEFT YOU THERE !! I DIDN'T MEAN TO- I'M SORRY !!!" She try to comfort you and try to wine your eyes, "I'm okay now.." She look at Z and thank her to take good care of you, you look at N, your sister take back her Railgun and looking back at N with sorry eyes…"Arg, Biscuits… I'm Sorry.." He start " I ruind your card game, then made you have awkward moment with your dad.."

"And I made you rebel like and angsty teens which got you killed.." Uzi halfed apologize to N. "Well, I just need to remove the chipe and he'll be good" Z said holding a Wrench, Uzi looked at her, and she saw that she's like a worker drone but with arms of a murder drone, "What are you actually ?… No offence but… You look like a-"

Z : "Worker drone ? Yea, most of my body is but, it's just the arms, long story.." She said, Uzi push a box to clim the vent, "Though, you try to kill me, so morality calls this draw." She said to N, then clim on the the box and try to get into the vents, but because she's short, she can't… She groans and turn to N "For the record, that was the lamest heel-face turn in history."

N : "Being rebbellious is a lot harder than it looks, thanks for showing me the ropes." he said, still on the ground "Nuh-hu, no bonding thing, you just killed a bunch of people, idiot." Uzi said. "That's super fair…" He sighs "I'v screwed up.." Uzi groans.

Uzi : "In the same way you're about to fix it ? " She asked as she held up the Wrench her father give it to her, she turn to Z, she then prepared her guns and sort, ready to fight J and V. He laugh a little "I love doing anything…" give a thumbs up while his screen says :

!! Litterally about to die !!

While with the worker drones, Thad was throw by J, Blood/oil came out of, now J was walking to them while V was climing the wall to scare them off. Khan : "So, they found our evacation spot.. But ! If we build a quick door-" thad grab a metal pipe near him and stond up. "Are you kidding me ?! You're the WDF, right ? Defende !.." Thad try to get help to fight the two murder drones, but they back away… "For real ?.." He said, but when he turnd V laught and use her wing to stab him and trow him on the ground, she grab him with her claws and was ready to eat him, but Uzi, N and Z catch up and were arrived just in time. "Hey !!" V turn her intention to them, suprice.

" Put that conventionally attractive male down !" uzi says smirking N wave to them but Uzi punsh him…"N, tell them the piece of our mind !" Z tell him and she REALLY looked pissed. "Oh, uhm, J ? You're sometimes kind of mean to me, and I wish weren't.. Juste some contructive critism…" " Nice~!" Uzi said. V then trow Thad away from her while J scoffed "Noted, traitor. We'll circle back after I'v rightsize your existence." The three looked at each other.

"Okay, witch one do you two want ?" Uzi asked to N and Z, "Let me deal with J, she's REALLY getting on my nerves…!" Z said looking at J, "J please ?.." N said, trying to fight her instead of V. "Too bad. Good Luck ! Z you're with me !" Uzi then flings the braded JCJ pen at J's 'Other eyes' making her in pain and distracted while she take her RailGun with Z who was just following her closelly. Leaving N dealing with V.

V flew straight to N, yet the two of them get into the fight. Uzi get her RailGun ready to shot at J, but while J's trying to get the pen off her 'Other eyes' She get the guns and start to shot everywhere Uzi can be, she olmost got her but she got saved by Z. J finally get the pens off of her "Damn the well-made, quality-assured durability of JC Jensen products ! Hu-?" Z help Uzi to swiftly jump up into the air and kiking the pen deeper into J's other eyes. She get back close to Z with a flip and get her Railgun back but- "WATCH OUT !!" Z yelled and take Uzi away from the laser 'cause V was trying to kill N. Back to N, he was trow at the wall by V, he then try to shoot her, but with his emotion he couldn't, and then he saw Y/n looking at them fighting eatch other, and instead of shooting at rocket, he shoot little pink hearts ?… "AHH ! My mind's in a weird place ! Don't reade into this !!" N yelled only to have a missile launch next to him.

J used her 'Light Ben' to making Uzi some damage, Z knew what she was about to do and "UZI GET BEINGH ME OR-" but before she could catch her, J trow her a missile to her backing her away " Z !!" Uzi yelled, worried but used her 'Light Bem' and Uzi fall over, Y/n saw J get closer to finish her of, you could let hurt your sister ! Y/n ran of to J's back and clim on here to just distract her for a moment "What the hell ?! Get off me !!" She said but they didn't let go even she try to pull them away. While N was trying to fight V up here he saw Uzi, Y/n and Z in danger ! "Uzi ! Z ! Y/n !" He then turn to V "I'm sorry to do this..!" He then lick her sor "EWW WHAT THE HELL ?!" While she was distracted N grab her and trought her on the ground.

J finally get ride of you and trough you away, you passed out by the hit, Z was more furious on J, she then came more closer to Uzi.

To becontinu

#murder drones x reader #murder drones uzi #murder drones #uzi x reader #murder drones n x reader #murder drones v x reader

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it-snotam · 1 year

Text

waiting on him - wonwoo (svt)

Waking up beside Wonwoo was one of the best feelings in the world, his warm body next to mine and his arm around my waist, keeping me close to him, as if it were possible for me to try and scape his side. I liked the feeling of thinking I was his, even if it was only for the night. It didn’t last though, it never did. He woke up quickly, and soon he started to curse as he stood up from the bed.

I opened my eyes a bit, I missed the feeling of having him next to me, he continued to move around the room as he got dressed to head out. “Morning” I whispered, but he didn’t bother in answering, he never did, and I was used to it.

“Get up, you need to leave before they find you in here” He said before walking out the room putting his glasses on.

I stood up from the warm bed, and I pick up my clothes getting dressed before walking outside as he was now on his phone probably checking his schedule, a neatly packed bag was beside him, he mentioned something about leaving for Japan in the morning, but he never put many details in.

“See you around” I say softly grabbing my keys and my purse.

He muttered something and I gave him a small smile as I walked out his apartment, going to the elevator and heading to my floor.

----

I can still remember the first night I saw Wonwoo, I was freshly new in the country, and I was exploring the neighborhood, I found out a nice convenience store and picked out a couple things, so I was carrying many bags and decided to use the elevator.

The first thing that caught my attention about him was his height, he was so much taller than myself, but he seemed to be a nice person, his facial expressions were relaxed, and he seemed confident but not overconfident. I still was too shy to talk to him, so I just stared at him until we both got into the elevator.

“What floor are you going?” He asked and I jumped a little not expecting him to notice me.

“4th” I replied, and he nodded while pressing the button to my floor.

----

Weeks passed by, I would usually see him around, and he would greet me with a smile and I would do the same. I couldn’t help it but feel nervous every time we would share the elevator.

“Are you new here?” He asked and who would have thought that this question would have started to change everything between us.

“Yeah, I moved here 2 months ago” I said, and he nodded, with a soft smile on his lips.

“See you around then” He said and walked out the elevator.

---

We continued to meet up in the elevator, we usually came back from work at the same time, and we liked to exchange nonsense talk and that’s how I found out that his name was Wonwoo, and that he lived on his own, he was nice, and I was very attracted to him, and I hoped he was to me.

I was constantly thinking about him, I was even dreaming of him. He was on a business trip or something like that, I hadn’t seen him in days, and I was surprised when I found him in the elevator, he smiled at me, and I wanted to jump into his arms.

“You’re back!” I said with a smile on my face.

He smiled with my reaction and nodded “How have you been?” I smiled and we both get into the elevator, it was our routine, talk while we were in the elevator and like if we were close friends, I told him about my work how the kids were doing in class, and he told me what a good time he had with his friends while on the business trip.

“Wanna come up for a coffee?” he asked me, and I was more than surprised, we have never crossed the line of going to the other’s apartment.

I didn’t have to think about it twice “yes!” I said and he smiled walking out the elevator and asking me to follow him. I didn’t feel weird once I was inside his apartment, it felt nice and cozy, just like Wonwoo made me feel.

I can’t recall how things ended the way they did last night, we drank the coffee he promised, and eat some biscuits he had. But then I don’t exactly know how his lips ended up on mine, how his hands moved from my cheek and onto my waist.

I don’t remember how everything changed so quickly, one moment we were kissing and the next I was following him into his room, the clothes that were on our bodies were soon discarded on the floor and I almost jumped when I felt his warm skin against mine, the kiss turned hungrier and deeper. His warm touch turning me on even more if possible. “Can I?” He asked before undoing my bra, the last piece of clothing on my body, and I would never say no.

I felt the mattress against my back and his body hovering mine, my hands tracing his muscles as he leaned to kiss me again while he aligned himself in my entrance, I would kill someone to feel him for the first time again, feel his length filling me up just nice. The way in which he started to move and I moved with him, both of us looking for our climax, and soon we were there, I felt him explode inside me just after I did it myself. In that moment, in that very same moment I knew I was totally falling for him, and that I would do anything to be by his side.

But dreams aren’t long in this world, and he woke me up right away from my daydream. He stood up still breathing heavily, and started to get dressed while I looked at him and soon I started to mimic his actions, he looked over at me and gave me a soft smile, “See you in the elevator” I said and he nodded, while I walked out his room, and his apartment going over to mine.

I didn’t know what I was getting myself into.

---

It’s been almost a year since that first night that changed it all, at the beginning we would still meet up in the elevator until he invited me over to his apartment, once we exchanged number, he would call up or text me and I would go over, we would spend some time together, but we would always end up in his bed.

I was constantly waiting on him, waiting for him to like me, to love me the same way I loved him.

---

hope you like it xo :)

#wonwoo #wonwoo angst #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo svt #wonwoo x oc #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo imagines #svt x reader #svt scenarios #wonwoo smut #seventeen #svt

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evita-shelby · 9 months

Text

The Ghost of New Year's Past

Or Polly decided to pop in and now its about Tommy & Diane(oc child) & ghost!Polly who has unfinished business.

Cw: Tommy’s canon depression and guilt over Polly’s death and baby's first contact with the dead(applies to both Tom and Diane)

Could be read as witch!Reader being Tommy’s wife or Eva since no name is mentioned.

He can’t bring himself to drink anymore.

He died that night on the field because in his heart he knew Polly had died because of him.

He sees her and hears her amongst his family as they celebrate the new year and Tommy leaves before it becomes too much.

Tommy has no idea where he is going when he passes by the children’s rooms and hears his eldest daughter, Diane, whispering to someone.

The children had been allowed to stay as late as they wanted but most had already been put to bed by now. In fact he’d personally tucked his little witch into her pink bed and kissed her goodnight hours ago.

“Can I tell daddy you’re here?” the little girl asks as her excitement has her talking just loud enough for him to hear her as he stops at her door.

Tommy cannot guess who would be here with Di, but none of them would be a good idea even if they were harmless little girls. Allie Solomons, Bianca Sabini, Janey Dogs, the little Gold girl who hates him for Aberama’s death, that friend of hers from school, the list goes on as Diane is ---unfortunately--- everyone’s friend.

“Di, sweetheart, I thought you said you were tired.” He comes in to find her sitting on her little table alone with biscuits and cake that she’d somehow gotten downstairs. He knew it was a bad idea to let her learn ballet, now the little witch moved as silently as she got up to mischief.

A trait she inherited from both him and his wife.

There is flash of light ivory satin on the bed in the corner of his eye, perhaps a dress or shawl Diane had taken out to play, but the room is otherwise empty.

“I was, but Aunt Polly came in and I asked her to stay.” The little girl with blue and brown eyes smiles widely and looks at the bed and he follows her line of sight. “She says she can’t have cake and biscuits because ghosts don’t need food like we do.”

“Hello, Thomas, did you miss me?” the ghost of his aunt sits there on the pink bed in the French dress his grandma stole, smoking a cigarette as if nothing had changed.

As if he hadn’t killed her and Barney and Aberama a year ago today.

“How?” he asks doing his best not to panic but feeling every hair on the back of neck rise in fear.

“Hmm, even with a witch for a wife you still do not believe we have magic in our blood.” Polly smiles and gestures him to sit on the bed.

“See I told you he wouldn’t believe it even if he saw me.” She turned to his daughter who tries to calm him with her small doll like hand in his.

“It’s okay, daddy, it’s just Aunt Polly.”

He can’t speak, his tongue feels heavy in his mouth and his head spins. Tommy has never fainted in his life and now he tries to hold into something as he feels light-headed.

“And your dear old mummy thought none of you inherited her gifts.” The ghost woman chuckled but refused to touch him.

“How?” he asks again as he shut his eyes and hears Diane leave him alone here with whatever Polly is now.

“Our magical blood allows me to visit those with our gifts and sweet little Di is the most magical of all.” His aunt, his second closest confidant explained. “and I cannot ascend as I have unfinished business, dear nephew of mine.”

“What do you need to pass on?” he asks thinking perhaps if he helps her pass over to the other side he will have peace.

“I need you to swear you won’t kill my son. Even if my Michael believes you killed me, I need you to show him mercy and kill the fucking people who did.”

But that includes me, Pol, he wants to say.

“That is the guilt speaking, Tom. You didn’t kill us, or me least of all. Swing just knows how to get under your skin.” She reads minds now, but Polly always knew him better than he knew himself. “So, Thomas Shelby, do I have your word?”

“Will you never come back if he says yes?” Diane asked with a quivering lip from the door, she’d not left as he thought she did.

“No, sweetheart, I can’t leave until the bad people are gone. And when I go to heaven I will come every All Soul's Day.” The ghost answered softly and the girl calmed down long enough to rejoin them on her bed.

“So, Thomas Shelby, do you promise to do as I asked?” she turned to him again, a bit sterner somewhat impatient as they hear Arthur and John coming up with John’s children.

“Yes, Pol, you have my word.”

#dad!tommy shelby #polly gray #diane shelby #tommy shelby x oc #eva smith shelby #tommy shelby x reader

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rendy-a · 1 year

Note

hi hi! can I ask for some househusband Ruggie with a side of cottagecore? the literal kind- fluff, and tysm for writing! his S/O has a garden full off food, can work carpentry and the repair work, so.. does he just decide to be a malewife with the occasional side gigs? (at least half of his living costs just became free) how would he navigate a life like that? would he brag about his S/O? did he pull a 'yes I do the cleaning yes I-' in the head the second he learnt about it? ty again!

Thank you for the request! I had to look up what Cottagecore was but, agh! that fits Ruggie so well. He'd love to have such a self-sufficient spouse as his partner. I hope you enjoy my musings about living in the countryside with Ruggie.

He can’t get used to having food available all over. Garden, check. Orchard, check. Canned food in the pantry, yes. Homemade bread on the table, you know it. Is this home or a buffet? He can’t help but hoard a little bit of food in his Tupperware. Luckily, turning those leftovers into new meals is also one of your hobbies.

Ruggie has spent so much time doing odd jobs that he can’t comfortably sit still for long periods of time. You introduce him to some of your idle hobbies to help him deal with the change. Knitting on the porch wiles away the evening. You’ll each have a new pair of warm socks before winter. When the snow keeps you indoors, you teach Ruggie how to needlepoint. Embroidered cushions make great gifts (and are easy to sell in the summer farmer’s market shishishi!)

Self-sufficiency means making a lot of things yourself. Ruggie is used to fixing items from his odd jobs but you are full-on making things from scratch. Whether it is furniture, a new garden bed or a replacement roof on the shed; if something needs making, you are making it together! You need to teach him the ropes, but Ruggie makes for a first-class woodworking assistant. There is nothing more satisfying than finishing a project that you’ve done together.

Deep fall was setting in and Ruggie was doing his annual check-over for winter. You both knew it was unnecessary, but it gave him comfort to know things were there, so you ignored it. You passed by the root cellar and could hear him counting jars of your canned food. “How are things looking down there?” you called to him. You heard a surprised yelp from below before your spouse’s face appeared in the stairwell. “Geeze, don’t scare me like that. I almost dropped a jar of peaches,” he reproaches you gently. You smile an apology to him. “I think we’ll be ok. Might have to ration the berry jam; I wish we’d have noticed when the birds started in on our bushes,” he finishes with an annoyed expression. You give him a grunt of agreement and wander away.

The next time you noticed your spouse doing his secret inspection was the following day. You were returning from the neighbor’s place. You had an arrangement with them to trade some of your special recipe canned tomato sauce for their soft, homespun yarn. You had chosen a yarn ball with golden hues that reminded you of your spouse’s adorable ears. You smiled as you walked over the last hill separating your home from the next and caught sight of those same adorable ears poking up from the rooftop. You knew what he was doing up there; checking for leaks and worrying that your little nest would be less than cozy over the cold winter months. Even so, you called up to him, “Lose something up there?” He jumps up and looks down at you guiltily, “Ah no. I thought I heard a bird or something trapped up here and came to give it a look.” You smile at him, “Find any?” He looks at you suspiciously, “No but maybe I should keep looking.” You wave a goodbye, “Ok Dear, just be down in time for dinner. I’m making those biscuits you like so much.”

Dinner that night was a quiet affair, but it usually is. One of your favorite parts of living in the countryside is the silence that comes from having no close neighbors. You love the soft change in melody when the birds stop chirping and the night insects take over instead. You open the oven a tiny crack to check on your cooking (it’s progressing well) and then wander off to find your spouse. Ruggie is in the linen closet checking over your warm blankets; probably both counting the quantity and searching for holes that need mending. “How’s the inspection going?” you ask from behind. Ruggie heaves a tired sigh, “It’s all in order.” You tilt your head to the side, “You don’t sound happy about that.”

He grabs the collar of his shirt and looks at you accusingly, “It’s not right. Something doesn’t feel right. Life can’t be this easy. My life can’t be this easy.” He finishes quietly looking at you out of the corner of his eye. You step to his side and rub his back comfortingly. You’d chase all his demons away, if you could but you know this is a battle for him to conquer himself. You lay your head briefly on his shoulder and remark, “Diner will be done soon. Come sit down whenever you are ready.” Then you give him a kiss on the cheek and head back to the kitchen.

One of your favorite things about cooking for Ruggie is how thoroughly he enjoys his meals. He eats your simple fare with relish, lip-smacking after each course. “Seconds?” you ask impishly. He gives you a wide grin and holds out his plate. You put another helping on and he thanks you with his signature “Shishishi!” When you finally gauge that even a glutton like Ruggie has had his fill, you come over to collect his plate. You put your arm around him and kiss the top of his head, “All set?” He lets out a contented huff and puts his hand on your arm, “Yeah, I’m full.” You move to grab the plate, but he does not release your arm. You look down at him and he mutters, “So full.” Then he leans his head into your belly and closes his eyes. You move to give him a full embrace and lean your head on the top of his own.

The winter winds would come soon but what did it matter when your cottage was so filled with warm love.

#twst #twisted wonderland #househusband au #twisted wonderland x reader #ruggie x reader #ruggie bucci x reader #ruggie bucchi #twst x reader

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muzzlemouths · 2 years

Text

I'm glad I didn't die before I met you (this is the first day of my life)

Ten years have passed since you first brought Sun and Moon into your home (and to that extent, your life), and as it happens, today is your anniversary. You talk about the past and reminisce the best of your memories, your love persisting even in the midst of a storm.

After all, you aren't going to let anything dampen your special day.

Sun & Moon centric // Wordcount: 8000 // AO3 Vers.

You check and double-check the ingredients for the umpteenth time to ensure that everything is there and in its place. The pasta is set out in its neat little box on the counter, sat beside two wine glasses and a dreamy chocolate cake. The homemade sauce - an old family recipe - waits patiently in the fridge beside a biscuit tin and potatoes for roasting, eager for its time to shine.

A rather fancy dinner that only one of you could fully enjoy, but they both assured you they didn’t mind pretending for the sake of such a special night. You had joked about recreating the trademark spaghetti scene from Lady and the Tramp, and Sun returned the humor by stating that you could always tape one side of the noodle to his mouth (anything to make you happy) which had you both in a fit of giggles. Tonight meant the world to you - all of you.

It was your anniversary, after all.

Sun himself was outside, for now, tending to the garden. You could see him from the kitchen window, bowed over your tomato plant and speaking with it fondly, a habit you grew to expect - and love, for that matter - even if it did take him ages to get from one crop to the next because he couldn’t resist striking up a conversation with each leaf.

He says something or other to a tomato smaller than the rest (a gentle encouragement, if you had to guess) before straightening up and looking your way, evidently having felt the eyes on his back. Not that he minds; rather, he looks to you with a broad smile and waves, beckoning you to him. You laugh, shaking your head, and humor his wishes.

The sky is somewhat overcast when you make it outside. Not stormy by any means, but a broad enough cloud coverage to keep you mostly in the shade as you make your way to his side, a gentle breeze accompanying it. “What are you still doing out here?” You ask him with a smile, “It’s getting dark already, you know. Our garden needs sleep as much as I do.”

Smiling, he waves you off and instead bends at the knees, gesturing toward the tomato plant. “Look at this!” He beams, pointing out one specific tomato, “It wasn’t nearly this big just a few days ago. It’s doubled in size practically overnight!”

Your own knees bend with an aged groan and you crook an eyebrow, looking in the direction he points to find the runt of the bunch. Sure enough, it’s grown to be quite the shiner since Sun first began giving it special attention. “Well would you look at that,” you give it a whistle, “I guess constructive criticism works on plants, too.”

“No criticizing here!” Sun corrects with a sharp grin, “Just good ol’ fashioned tender loving care , is all.”

“And a healthy dose of Vitamin D straight from the source,” you snicker. He doesn’t immediately get it, so you jab a lighthearted finger right in the center of his chest, “You know,” then turn it upward, “the sun?”

A short beat, then he’s bent over with laughter and pretending to wipe a tear from his eye, “Hardy har har,” he sneers through a smile, “very clever, sunflower. I’m afraid that particular ability isn’t quite in my skillset.”

You give him a shrug, “I’m not so sure,” a casual hum, “you always brighten my day.” (I love you)

Another beat, quiet as the sky, and you swear he blushes red as the roses behind him, “Flatterer,” comes his reply, “but the sun has nothing to shine on if not their favorite flower,” sweet as honey and twice as smooth, “don’t you think so?” (I love you)

“Hey now, mister,” you waggle a finger in his face, a poor attempt at hiding your own cheeks, “I was trying to compliment you , you know, don’t go turning it around on me now.” Your head shakes back and forth and a sigh escapes you as he responds to your taunts with more laughter. Just past him, the rosebush dances in the wind. You march past him and towards it, reaching in blindly, “Do you know what today is?”

“Of course,” he follows, a new shadow enveloping you from behind. Sun’s arms wrap around your waist and he sets his chin against the top of your head, “It’s our anniversary, love. Did you think I forgot?”

“Not at all,” you hum, “maybe I just like hearing you say it.” Your hand upturns the petals on a rose in full bloom, admiring it fondly. Sun had planted these himself. Something nips at your palm, and drawing it away from the bush reveals the smallest bead of crimson.

Sun tsks behind you, reaching for your hand before anything can be said. He brings it above your head and plants a kiss just beside the spot. “A temporary fix,” he tells you with a wink, “until we get you a proper band-aid.”

You turn, slow, to face him. He releases you only to catch your hands again once you’re in front of him, gathering them in his own hands and giving a gentle squeeze, then raising both to kiss at your knuckles. You look away, fumbling for a moment. “You’re always such a sap,” you tell him in a whisper, “come on, you’re going to make me do something I regret.”

“Oh?” With a devilish look in his eyes, he once again raises your hands to his face and, this time, he kisses every finger one by one, sneaking a look in your direction after each, “What about now?”

A whimper escapes you, soft and fond, you melt under his eager touch. Then all at once you pull away from his grip and surround his own wrists, tugging him down to your level for a proper kiss.

He is warm against you, an embrace you never want to leave, but eventually you find yourself needing air.

Winding back, breathless, you look at him with a half-lidded expression.

He returns it with a gaze like he’s mesmerized, still leaning into you, he smiles at you as though he’s looking at a work of art, “Do you regret that?”

“No,” you whisper in reply, finding yourself driven forward for seconds, “not at all.”

One of his hands wiggles free and wraps around you, cradling at the small of your back and pulling you in close until you’re fully pressed against him, and he returns the kiss with a third - just to the left of your lips - then another at your cheek, and your jaw, another still, at your nose and then your forehead, and ten more everywhere in between until you’re squeaking with giggles and forcibly pushing him away.

But he isn’t done. “It’s our anniversary,” he repeats, grabbing for your other hand and crossing his fingers between yours, “ten years, you know.”

“I know,” you smile, “I just said as much, didn’t I?”

“You also said you liked to hear it,” he reminds you. His fingers unwind a moment after, drawing yours upward in a similar manner before pressing your hands palm-to-palm, his dwarfing your own. “So much has changed since the day we met,” he says, stars in his eyes, “your hands were so very soft, back then,” his fingers curl over the top of yours, “now they’re tough from years of work, calloused from the garden,” they intertwine, again, and he goes out of his way to brush over the ring, “so much is different, now,” his eyes find you again, and he’s choked back, “I’m so glad I was there to see it.”

It catches you off guard. Even — if not especially — after all these years, he knows just how to strike straight for the heart. “Hey, none of that. If you start crying I will, too!” You whine at him, but you don’t stop him or dare pull away, instead you tug his hand (still warmly in yours) against your cheek and brush a kiss to his palm from there, “I’m glad, too,” you whisper after a moment, “I can’t imagine my life without you now,” you give it a gentle squeeze, “both of you.”

He somehow goes softer at the kiss, his other hand raising to cradle your cheek, “Oh, don’t say that. I’m sure you could have done better than us,” he insists with a halfhearted chuckle, “you always impressed us, I bet you could have anyone you wanted.”

“What if the person I want is you?”

He pauses, eyes widening as though you’ve confessed for the very first time, and not the tenth, or hundredth, or thousandth, and it puts his new hardware to work; from where you’re standing, up against his heart, you can see the faintest puddle of artificial tears beginning to form under his eyes. “Well,” he sniffles despite the lack of an actual nose and leans in, touching his forehead to yours, “I suppose I can’t argue with that, can I?”

“Mmmhm,” you hum against him, closing your eyes, “I don’t regret choosing you, not ever,” you promise, “if I could go back in time and do it all over again I would, and I would choose you every time.”

Sun had always been sentimental. His new ability to shed tears didn’t change that, only made it more obvious, so you aren’t at all surprised by the trickle of them kissing your cheeks from where he’s pressed against you. “Thank you,” he says softly, “it’s the same for us. We wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Then a bubbling of laughter escapes him, tickling your ear, and he hushes the internal monologue of, ‘ WIll you two get a room already’ from Moon who, for all intents and purposes, can’t be seen with his face in his hands, blushing with twice the ferocity of either of you.

“Besides,” you continue, finally taking the time to pull away so you can view him in full, “if you want to talk nostalgia, we can’t forget how you used to scare away any potential partners,” you poke him gently between the eyes, “ both of you. Don’t think I never noticed.”

‘Uh oh’

“You knew?” He squeaks in return, “It was a bad habit, I’ll admit, a-and if you ever told us to stop we would have. Right away!”

“I know,” you nod, “but I didn’t mind it,” and a sneaky grin comes to your face, “maybe I even enjoyed it a little. Seeing you two get a little jealous.”

“I’m not sure that’s the correct word for it,” he laughs. Possessive is a truer way to put it, but the feeling had never culminated in anything more than puppy guarding you from strangers (and lying about your relationship status from time to time). “Alright, what about the first time we confessed,” he says, “if we’re reminiscing, and all. Do you remember?”

“Of course I do,” you tell him, “it was right before I got you out of that damn pizzaplex—”

“Language, please.”

You chuckle, “—and again immediately after, like just the once wasn’t enough. You and I were laying in my backyard and—”

“You were teaching me how to spot the clouds,” he finishes for you with an enamored smile, “it made me happy just to be outside, but even more that it was you who brought me there. You pointed out a cloud that looked like a heart—”

“You said it was yours,” now your own eyes begin to sting, your emotions threatening to spill over in the moment, “you told me you loved me. Over and over, until I was sure of it.”

“And I’ll do it again,” he muses, finding your hands in his still, as though you’ll never let go, “I love you,” he says, soft as his heart, “I love you more than the clouds and the birds and all the rainbows in the sky, I love you more than I have the capacity to say.”

You pull one of your own hands away to rub at your eye, and a minute later his follows, gently stopping your hand from the act so he can brush the tears aside with his own thumb. You chuckle beneath his touch with a melty whine, “Look what you’ve done,” you tease, “now we’re both crying.”

An idea strikes you then, and you’re quick to act on it, taking his hand in yours and swiftly pulling him away from the rose bush and out of the garden entirely. Just outside of it is where you flop down onto your back, dragging him with you, and the grass catches your bodies with a soft thump.

“What are we doing?” He asks you with some laughter.

“Cloudspotting!” You say like it’s obvious. Lifting your chin, you look to the sky and point out a particularly odd looking shape. “Look, there! That one looks like a dog.”

He follows where you point. “I see it,” Sun hums, then points to one just beside it himself, “What about this one? It’s like a big oak tree.”

“You’re right! And just under it, that flat cloud with the whisps by it” — your grin broadens, “that could be a tree swing. I used to have one as a kid.” You look across the sky, seeing what else you can find, “Oh, what about that one?” Your finger points just over his head, “It looks kind of like a butt,” you giggle over the idea of it, “don’t you think?” but you hear nothing in return. Eventually, you turn to look at him, “Sun?”

He isn’t playing, anymore. Rather, his eyes are set fondly on you. How long had he been watching you like that?

“Hey, I can’t play this by myself,” you gently jab an elbow against him, hoping to distract from the color rising, again, to your cheeks, “You can’t just stare at me all day, you know.”

“I can’t?”

“No!” You laugh, turning back to the sky, now, “Here, look at this one. I think it could be a car. One of those old fashioned ones.”

Again, there’s no response, but a half-second later your view of the sky is obscured as Sun rolls over and on top of you (careful to avoid crushing you) and leans in with a sly smile, “What about now?” He cooes, “See anything special?”

You bite back another laugh, “Well of course,” you tell him with a nod, “I see the one and only sun, in fact. The most beautiful star in the sky.”

“Mm,” a tint returns to his cheeks, “flattery will get you no where, dewdrop,” despite this, he closes the distance between you and presses a heartfelt kiss to your lips, only deepening it when he feels you embrace both sides of his face with your hands and draw him in closer.

“I dunno,” you hum between breaths, “I think it got me somewhere.”

“Don’t get cocky,” he draws away to look at you, doe-eyed, and it looks like he has more to say, but he freezes before any words spill out, and blinks down at you with a confused expression.

“What?” You stuff down your disappointment in the moment being interrupted, “Is something wrong?”

“I think—” his expression sours into a squint, “I think the sky spit on me.” His faceplate lifts to the sky to get a better look, and the result is immediate; as soon as he’s not there to shield you, a drop of rain lands right in your eye.

“Oh, shit —”

“Language”

“Sunny, it’s raining!” You sit up to your elbows, “I thought it wasn’t supposed to rain until tomorrow.”

He swipes a finger over his mouth (as though that does anything) and holds it up to the sky, “Maybe a shift in the wind,” he tells you with a hum, “it might have brought the storm in faster than expected.”

“Oh, are you a meteorologist now?”

He faces you again with a lighthearted scoff, “Just making observations,” he says, and he climbs off of you in one fell swoop, extending a hand in your direction, “come on, let’s get inside before it comes down any harder.”

“I’m sure it’s just a sprinkle,” you say, taking the offered hand and allowing him to hoist you up by it, “but I don’t feel like getting rained on so uh, yeah, let’s head inside.”

Thunder booms overhead. Sun flinches, sticking to you like glue, and you help each other make a mad dash inside as the rain turns from a drizzle to a downpour in the blink of an eye.

Once inside, Sun reaches for your nearest towel (the rag that hangs over your oven handle) and begins to wordlessly dab away the water on your skin despite dripping all over the floors himself.

You put a hand over his to stop him, “Do you have any idea how badly I need to throw that rag in the wash?” You ask with a chuckle, “I want to go take a hot shower anyway. Stay here and I’ll get a proper towel to dry you off with.”

“And then dinner?” Sun asks with an eager expression.

“You’ve got to wait a bit longer for that,” you tell him, “it’s not for a few more hours, still, and I have homework to do until then.”

It’s not a sentence you ever thought you would catch yourself saying again, but as luck would have it you decided some years ago to give college another go. It isn’t a decision you regret, even if the homework is a lot - as an understatement - and the deadlines remind you of years spent in teenage panic.

Sun helps. He was more than eager to offer his help, in fact, and his constant encouragement is what keeps you going most days. Right on cue, he dabs one last time at the inside of your wrist, and kisses the spot of skin soon after, “I’ll get the book out,” he tells you.

You answer with a fond nod, “Alright, you sap. Let me go get you that towel.”

Somewhere between you getting in the shower and getting out of the shower, Sun left a fresh towel (warm from the dryer) right where you could reach it. You give the act a fond shake of your head before getting dressed, heading out of the bathroom and down the hallway, where you see him preparing a cup of tea for your study session.

You’re used to microwaving it and popping a bag in, but somewhere in the last ten years Sun insisted on a kettle, and you were hard pressed to argue. Now, him making you tea before you sit down to study each evening has become something of a routine. Intricate rituals, and all that.

“What is it today?” You ask.

He looks up from the cup, where he’s just finished stirring in a spoonful of honey, “Chamomile,” he answers, “thought you might like to relax after your shower.”

“Mm, I didn’t know we had any of that left,” your hands cup around the mug, bringing it to your lips. You blow on the drink until some of the steam dissipates, then take a slow and careful sip, coming back with a smile, “Perfect as always,” you tell him. “Thank you for the towel, as well. It was a nice surprise.”

Sun beams at the compliment, “Well, you know I’m good at surprises,” he answers, then gestures for your livingroom, your homework book already fitted snugly under his arm. “Shall we?”

He politely leads you to the couch and takes your tea, and sets it on the coffee table to the side, then takes a seat on the couch and happily pats his lap with an expectant (and hopeful) grin. You humor him with a roll of your eyes, and lay down on the couch in your usual study position — that is, with your head in his lap.

Here, he opens up the book to your bookmarked page and begins to read its contents for the current chapter, the heavy pitter patter of rain outside easily becoming background noise.

This goes on for a couple chapters. Sun reads the page and every so often asks you a question, and you discuss the lesson with the occasional break to sip tea and take notes. You flip on a lamp as the sky darkens with time, the rain raging on outside, without a care. You’re pleasantly warm right where you’re at and more than content to stay that way even as Sun closes the book to end that day’s study session. In fact, you have half a mind to find a blanket and nap just like that until dinner time.

Unfortunately, the weather has other plans.

A more violent gust of wind rushes against the windows, whistling against the frames. Sun looks up towards it with a concerned expression that you’re quick to hush away with a squeeze of his hand. “Just the wind,” you assure him, “the windows will hold just fine.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” he admits with a sigh, “it’s getting awfully dark out there, don’t you think?”

“Sun,” you give him a quizzical look without moving from your spot, “it’s evening, remember. The time it normally gets dark?”

“You know what I mean,” he tuts, reaching down to honk your nose, “it’s darker than usual. The rain is really picking up, and now the wind is at our door. Isn’t it dangerous?”

You shrug, not really caring, “We’re safe inside, Sunny, I promise.” Your words apparently bring him little comfort, given the sour expression he gives you, “But if it would make you feel better I can go check the weather report, see where that big bad storm’s headed next.”

This brings the smile back to his face, “It would bring me some relief to know we aren’t in the thick of it, yes,” he answers you honestly, “but don’t be too long, or I’ll start to worry the storm got you.”

Your laugh is punctuated with another roll of your eyes, “Alright, alright, let me up then.” It’s figurative, said in jest as he’s not actually holding you down in the slightest, however, not one to miss an opportunity, Sun suddenly doubles down and wraps his arms around you right as you’re readying to stand up from the couch.

He brings your back to his chest, pulling you into a full sit in his lap, and covers the back of your neck in kisses everywhere he can reach, quickly reducing you to a fit of laughter as you squirm to get away.

“Quit it!” You shrill around the attack, “Come on, do you want me to go check the news or not?”

“Just a few more,” he promises, and suddenly he’s standing, hoisting you into a bridal hold and going at your upper body with a fervor, laying down a smooch on any exposed skin he can find until you’re shrieking with laughter and playfully batting him away, a fruitless endeavor that only makes him work faster.

“C-Come on—” your feet kick at him, hands pushing against his face.

“Mm!”

“Sun—” you gasp for air, “ Sunny— ”

“Not done!”

He peppers another few at your jaw, then another dozen down your chest, bringing your belly in close—

and blowing the biggest, sloppiest raspberry against it.

“Hey!” You shriek, “Enough, enough you big goof! You’re going to make me pass out. Put me down!”

“As you wish~” he cooes, and just as soon he’s dropping you from a few feet above to the plush couch below, where you land with an oof and a soft thud, your head spinning as you come back into focus and glare him down with a not-really-mad expression. “Now, about that weather report?” He grins like he hadn’t just been the one keeping you from it, “I’m going to get a head start on dinner while you’re at it.”

“Mhm,” you scoff, not entirely convinced that he isn’t getting on the task solely to keep you from seeking retaliation. “I’ll get you back for that, mister, mark my words.”

He gives you a wink. You return it with a softening smile. With that, you escape behind him and turn down the hall, and head for your bedroom so you can flip to the weather channel for a quick and easy idea of what’s coming your way.

You dig around for the missing remote for a minute to the sounds of Sun getting into the pots and pans in the kitchen. A minute later you find it, hit the button, flip the channels, land on the right one, and—

Oh.

Oh no.

Leaving the tv as is, you quickly make your way down the hallway again, ready to swallow your pride and admit that Sun may have been more right than you wanted to believe.

“Hey so, about that storm--”

It’s then that a particularly loud rumble of thunder echos overhead and instantly, your lights flicker, then go kerpoof , launching the house into total darkness.

Evidently, the power has blown out.

“Well that’s just great,” you sigh from the hallway. Maybe your plans for dinner tonight would be getting an update. “Su—” you stop yourself before the name is fully out, thinking better of it as the situation fully dawns on you. “Moon…?”

“Here,” comes his gravely voice from a few meters away. There’s a flash of lightning from the window, and in the brief time it illuminates your kitchen you can see his form — brandishing a knife, of all things — then your perception of him is again reduced to the trademark crimson glow.

You squint in his direction, taking a few measured steps forward, and blindly, in the dark, “Do you wanna tell me why you’ve got a knife, buddy?”

“Are you scared?” He cooes, much closer now, “Think I’ll do something mean?”

“Hardly,” you snort in return. After ten years, there’s not a single part of you that’s scared of Moon anymore, knife or not. “Seriously, though. Why the weapon?”

“Was cutting potatoes,” he answers from the dark. “Well, Sun was. Then the power—”

“Yeah,” you interrupt him with a sigh, “it’s an ongoing issue.”

Reaching into your back pocket, you retrieve your phone and turn on the flashlight, careful not to shine it immediately in Moon’s direction. Sure enough, there’s a cutting board out on the counter and two potatoes already thinly sliced for roasting. It looks like the lights went out as he was getting started on the third.

Moon lowers the knife and settles it against the cutting board with a quiet tap. He’s squinting just beside you, attempting not to look your flashlight in the eyes. “Guess we’re taking a raincheck on dinner,” he says — and you don’t need to see his cheeky grin to know it’s there, “Get it? Rain check?”

“Ha, ha, very funny” you roll your eyes.

He points toward you a second later, his finger showing up in the thin stripe of light, “Any way you can turn that thing down?”

“No can do, knife boy,” you shake the phone a little for emphasis, “This is the only light source I’ve got. Unless there’s a secret nightlight mode you’ve kept hidden from me all these years.”

“Maybe if I still had my uniform--”

“Oh come on, are you still mad at me about that?”

“The stars glowed in the dark, remember?”

“It had holes , Moon. Both of your uniforms did. Remember that ?”

He answers you with a clipped grunt, shrugging, “What about candles, then? You’ve gotta have one or two around here. Easier on the eyes.”

The suggestion makes you pause. True, candles would certainly be perfect for this exact situation (romantic, too), and you knew for certain there were a handful of them lying around your house, but… “Are you sure?” Your phone lowers slightly, allowing him the chance to look you in the eyes, “That’s a lot of fires at once, even if they're just little ones.”

Another shrug, this one heavier. It’s obvious he gave it some thought. “Nothing we can’t handle,” he assures you, “besides, anything is better than being blinded by your phone.” There’s a pause, then his teeth rise into a smirk, “You know, I can see just fine in the dark. I could always lead you around—”

“No, no, that’s alright,” You wave at him, “candles it is.” Swiveling on your heel (and taking the light with you, much to his relief) you head out in search of enough candles to light at least the most important rooms until the power comes back on.

You manage to find most of them in your bedroom, the majority having been ones you bought but could never bring yourself to light. There’s two more in the bathroom, one in the cupboard, and a whole box of cheap tea lights in your closet. Now all that was left to do was find the lighter, and that’s where the real challenge was.

In the kitchen, Moon can be heard putting away dinner (or what was started of it, anyway), and apparently working on a worthwhile replacement. You thought about just ordering a pizza, but you’d never forgive yourself for doing that to the delivery guy.

You’ve looked in every nook and cranny for the stupid thing by the time you head down the hallway again, searched high and low for a lighter you know you own, and have found yourself right back in the kitchen and rooting through the cabinets there.

Just as you’re readying to give up on the search, you hear a familiar click from the kitchen, and turn to look over your shoulder from where you’re crouched in front of the cabinets to see a tiny flame beside two red eyes. “Looking for something?” He asks with a low chuckle.

“Yeah, as a matter of fact,” you take it from him with a scoff, “Where was it?”

“Kitchen drawer,” he shrugs, “first one.”

“Of course.” You look back to your phone again and check the battery level, grimacing as your eyes read a weak 22%. “Shit, I forgot how much the flashlight drains my battery.” You decisively turn it off, for now, “Wouldn’t be such an issue if I could charge my phone, but with the power out…” you squint into the darkness, attempting to make out the group of candles that had been laid out on the counter, “Maybe I could light one, and then carry that one around while I light the others—”

“I could help,” Moon says, stopping you mid-thought.

Your weight shifts from foot to foot, a nervous fidget, “How would you do that?” You ask, “I can’t see a thing like this, Moon.”

The light of his eyes illuminates his expression, easing it into something fond, “You will just have to trust me, then,” he tells you softly, “here, let me show you,” and he comes up behind you, reaching around through the darkness to take your hand, resting his own overtop. He guides you, blind, to the wick, and you trust him enough to not flinch when you hear the lighter click , his fingers over yours and shielding you from the flame’s small heat.

“There, see?” His head dips to whisper into your hair, then falls an inch or so, and he presses a kiss against your ear. You go rosy beneath it.

“How chivalrous of you,” comes your reply, “I’m not convinced you aren’t just trying to show off that special night vision of yours.”

The smell of vanilla lavender wafts through the air, this little flame easily illuminating your countertop on its own. You breathe in deep, then exhale with a smile.

“Me? Showing off?” He sneers against your ear, “ Never . I’m only trying to help, starlight.”

“Mmhm… and do you expect to ‘help’ me this way with the other fifteen candles, too?” You scoot it forward on the counter, safely tucked away.

“Well,” another kiss presses against the rim of your ear, then a second to your temple, “I’m not sure there’s any other way around it. Is there?”

“I suppose not,” you hum yourself, smiling softer against each kiss.

“Besides,” his thumbs swipe smooth circles over the back of your skin, “this way I get to hold your hands for as long as I’d like.”

Your chin raises to look directly upward, finding his eyes, “Don’t get all mushy on me, now,” you chastise with small laughter, “if you go and say something like that I’ll start to think you cut the power just to spend time with me. You know you can always just ask to hold hands, right? Really, the storm isn’t necessary—”

“Hush,” his neck turns, face meeting yours as he shuts you up with a kiss square on the lips. He keeps you there, hands in yours and arms wrapped at your waist until your neck is straining and your smile melts against his own.

Warmth pools in his cheeks and at your lips, radiating from behind his chest, and you shudder. Then you shiver. This time for an entirely different reason. Only then does he pull away, looking concerned.

“Just a little cold,” you reassure him, “I think the heater turned off with the power. I’ll grab a blanket from the closet before we have dinner.”

Moon nods, but he isn’t looking at you as he does. Instead, his eyes drift past the counter and into the livingroom, roaming the darkness where you’re left blind. “You know…” and he pauses, as though giving it a good amount of thought, “your house has a fireplace, doesn't it?”

You turn to your side so you can look at him - or what little you can see of him, anyway, “Well, yeah,” you agree with a nod, “but that’s not one little flame, Moon. I mean, we’ve never done it—”

“I want to try,” he says - then, before you can argue, “Sun and I both. We’re ready to try.”

“I…” It’s a dangerous idea. You trust them to go at their own pace, and you had been - for years now - since the incident that first lead to you taking them away from the plex in the first place. But then there was the nightmares, the bad memories, the way that for years they would flinch at the sight of fire on a television screen or shy away from your oven when it grew too hot.

But Moon had braced you against this small, innocent flame, and he seemed sure. Somehow, they both did.

Maybe they were ready for the real thing, too.

“Alright,” you finally agree, “but if it gets too much, you have to tell me immediately, okay? That’s the only way I’ll agree.”

Moon smiles down on you and draws one of his hands from yours, extending only his pinky in your direction. “Promise,” he says. You shake on it. He brings another candle front and center. “Until then, I’m not letting go of your hand.”

You busy yourself with the fireplace as soon as your house isn’t covered in shadows. In a way, it looks nice like this. Romantic, even, if you ignored the storm raging dark outside.

A few yards away, Moon works in your kitchen to finish making up something for dinner. You’re still a little peeved about all your hard work going to waste, but Moon assured you it could be a special dinner for another day. Twice the dates , he said, and you found it hard to argue with that.

At last the embers catch onto the wood you’ve placed inside, and a warm, vivid fire consumes the small area in patterns of quick kindling. You lean back against your heels with a successful huff of breath. Moon watches from behind the counter, saying nothing, and you try your best not to stare at him for any sign of discomfort.

But a minute later he returns to you, not minding the fire in the slightest, now, and extends a plate from his hand. A turkey sandwich — far from the fancy dinner you had planned — but he’s cut it into the shape of a heart.

“Happy anniversary,” he says, and it’s the most sincere he’s been all day, “sorry it’s not spaghetti. Best I could do.”

You take it with a wobbling smile, already feeling yourself on the brink of tears again as you stare down at its poorly trimmed shape, “It’s perfect,” you whisper.

In fact, you think it might be better than anything you could have planned.

He seems relieved to hear it, relaxing at the shoulders. Finally, he turns his head to look into the fire, not immediately saying anything, and you grow worried.

“Are you okay?”

His gaze returns and, with it, his smile, “Never better,” he says, and you think he really means it, “just admiring, is all.”

“The fire?” You ask, “Or…”

His smile turns toothy, riling into a knowing smirk that makes you warm at the cheeks. “Sure,” he says at last, “the fire, too.”

You rub at your face, willing away the color there, “Alright, romeo, calm down,” you tell him with a laugh. As you relax, the feeling blooming in your chest becomes a different kind of fond. “You know, it feels like just yesterday that you were setting up pretend fireplaces on my laptop. Do you remember that?”

“Hard to forget.” He closes the distance and sits down across from you, crossing his legs against the floor. “That was the year Sun burnt the cookies.”

“And the year you made me that sweater,” you remind him - a notion that finally has him looking away with a flush, “It’s a little worn now, but it’s still my favorite, you know.”

His cheeks glow under the light of his eyes, and he doesn’t fight them, instead looking toward the fire with a bashful smile. He doesn’t say anything, but you know he hears you. You know he’ll think about it for the rest of the night.

Feeling wholly content in having flustered him up, you finally take the time to dive into your turkey sandwich, enjoying the dinner twice as much as you thought you would. Moon remains silent as you do, and you don’t mind that. The crackling of the fireplace is enough between the two of you.

It isn’t until you finish up the last bite that he looks your way again, and when he does it’s with a small bout of laughter. He moves your plate out of the way and rests his knees in front of yours, then outstretches a hand and, smiling still, he gently dabs away a bit of condiment from the corner of your mouth.

It’s a silly move, and one that makes you feel entirely childish up until he leans forward and presses a gentle kiss against the spot, wherein you feel yourself growing hot under the collar all over again.

He pulls away, but you catch him by the shirt. “You missed,” your reply comes before he has a chance to question it, hands winding tight in his collar, you bring him back to you for a proper kiss. Something soft, something tender, and you find the warmth in your chest against his rages so much hotter than the fire at your side.

He draws from you again, slouching lazily in your hold, and presses a smaller peck to your nose. “Now who’s the sap?” He tells you with a whisper. You only hum in reply.

And you whine, a little, when he properly pulls away from you again, but you know you can’t keep him there forever.

Still half-lidded yourself, you sigh wistfully and lean back against your wrists. “Well, what should we do now?”

“Go to sleep?” he says flatly.

You have half a mind to toss the plate at him, “Not happening,” you tell him through laughter, “we only just ate dinner, it’s still way too early for sleep. Come on, Moon, you’ve gotta have more ideas than that.”

“You’re always so picky,” he offers you a roll of the eyes. “Well, what’s your suggestion?”

“Tough luck, starlight. Looks like you landed on another licorice space. That means—”

“I know what it means.” You grumble, sticking your character in the same spot for the third consecutive time. “You know, when I suggested we play a board game I wasn’t expecting you to be so good at it.”

“Maybe I’ve just got a lucky hand,” he purrs, fanning himself with the card in his hand, “besides, you’re the one who chose Candy Land. You had every chance to pick a game you didn’t suck at.”

“Hey!” You pick up a spare gingerbread pawn and chuck it at him, smirking as it lands with a sharp metallic ting against his arm, “I’m still not convinced you’re playing fair. I don’t know how, but you’re definitely cheating.”

“Sure, sure. Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

He draws a card, grins, lays it on the table. Moves his piece forward nine steps.

“Oh, come on !” You toss your hands into the air, “How is that fair? I swear this is the fourth time you’ve pulled that card.”

“Starting to sweat yet, star?” He sneers, “We’ve been playing for an hour already, you might as well just admit defeat now and save yourself the dignity.”

“Dignity!” You scoff, drawing a card, “I’ll show you dignity!”

Two purples.

Your gingerbread pawn is forced back six squares.

Glowering deeply, you keep your eyes on the board so you don’t have to see the shit eating grin on his face. “Not a word, star boy,” you hiss, “not a single fucking word.”

“I hadn’t said a thing,” he cooes, “I’m too busy taking measurements to bother watching you lose.”

The card wrinkles in your hand. Against your better judgment, your eyes snap to meet him, “Taking measurements?” You ask through gritted teeth, “For what?”

“My crown,” he’s quick to say, “you know, for when I reach Candy Castle.”

Your other hand tap tap taps against the board with methodical precision, the shadow of competitiveness overcoming you for a brief second like a werewolf resisting the call, “Oh you’ve done it now, buddy. I am coming for your ass.”

He laughs - it’s brighter than every candle, warmer than the fireplace - and it’s almost enough to make you relent. Almost. He draws a card and moves forward five spaces. “I have all the patience in the world, star,” he tells you, “I can wait here all day for you if needed.”

“Moon, so help me—”

“But hey, at least you’re handling your defeat well,” he continues, “I’ve seen children throw whole life-changing fits after losing this badly.”

You roll your eyes, “Well, I’m not a child,” you state with a blatant huff, “and frankly, you’ll never have to deal with that again.”

“Never?”

“Of course not,” you reach for another card, “ours will be raised better.”

You pick up the gingerbread pawn. Hold it mid-air. Suddenly, your eyes raise to find him staring open-mouthed in your direction. Oh.

“Our—”

“I-It’s your turn!” you’re quick to cover the tracks, but not quick enough. Moon sets a hand on yours so the pawn is settled against the board, and you relent, letting it go with a whine. “Moon, please,” you beg him, “can you just go?”

“I’m skipping my turn,” he says, “keep talking.”

“Well then I’ll go again!” You reach for another card with your other hand.

He reaches forward, stopping this one in its tracks, too. He says nothing, this time, but instead curls both of your hands properly into his and gives them a squeeze. You know he’s looking at you, looking expectant , but you can’t bring yourself to raise your eyes from the board.

“Hey,” he whispers, and it’s so soft, so patient, that it finally draws your eyes to him, “if you’re really against it, you don’t have to tell me. We can drop it and keep playing the game,” he says, “but I—” and there’s a look in his eye that you can’t quite place, “I’d like to hear it. We both would.”

Oh, god. Both of them were listening?

You feel him give your hands another encouraging squeeze. There’s little point in hiding it now that the cat’s out of the bag, you suppose, but admitting to it this early still takes guts.

“I…I’ve been thinking about it, lately,” you confess, “the thought of having kids. Or — adopting, even. But,” your eyes shy away from him once more, guilty, they fall back to the board, “I was worried you wouldn’t like the idea. Like…maybe you’re tired of taking care of kids, you know? And you’re finally free of the obligation. I didn’t want to put that kind of responsibility on you again.”

You hold your breath, keeping it tight to your chest. For the longest time, only the fireplace fills the silence, its snapping embers keeping you company as Moon says nothing.

And then you hear it. Something so small and soft, you nearly miss it; a shaky breath. In, out. You finally dare to look up at him again.

He’s crying.

Not just a single tear, and not a puddle under his eye, but a smooth river that runs down his cheeks in even rhythm. Immediately, you worry you’ve said something to upset him terribly. The pain from that notion is relentless, stinging you sore, but you try to remedy the situation while you still can. “Fuck, I s-shouldn’t have said anything, I’m sor—”

“We’ve been waiting,” he cuts you off, as though suddenly finding his voice again after it was stolen from him, and he raises your hands together and against his wetted cheek, leaning into it, now, his smile returns with shaky courage, “we’ve been waiting for you to ask this whole time, star. Waiting for you to say something.”

All at once, relief floods you, the breath returning to your lungs like a mighty gust of wind, and for the first time that day you finally let your own tears fall as heavily as they please.

“Why didn’t you say anything!” You ask through the sniffles.

“We didn’t want to rush you,” he gives your hands another squeeze, “but we wanted to, Sunshine. Each day, we wanted to.” The name catches you, and your confusion must be obvious because he is quick to continue, “Did you think Sun would miss out on this conversation?” He laughs tearfully, and it’s only then that you see the straight-toothed smile, the way a single ray is peeking out from under the hat, “We’re both here, love. We’re both here for you.”

A joyous sob escapes you, a wonderful, grateful feeling bursting from your chest in warm abundance, “So you’re okay with it?” Another tear falls hot against your cheek, “You want to do this?”

“We’d be—” laughter cracks from his throat, “— over the moon , starlight.”

That’s all the confirmation you need. In only a second you’re across the boardgame and all but crawling into Moon’s lap. His arms outstretch to catch you, and your legs swing to sit on either side, wrapping at his waist as you hug him so tight your bones tremble with the effort, and he kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you—

Breathlessly you draw your face into the crook of his neck, nuzzling against his chin, and for this one brief moment you’re the happiest you’ve ever been.

“We can start the paperwork or—figure things out tomorrow,” you mumble against his throat, “is that too soon?”

He forces your chin back and kisses you deeply and with a passionate fervor, dipping you, inch by inch, until your back presses neatly against the messied game board, following you every step of the way, and suddenly he makes a grab for your ankles.

“We can’t wait that long,” he tells you.

The rain pours, the fire roars.

You are home.

#happy valentine's day loves!#have something special <3 #drabbles #sun fnaf #sundrop #moon fnaf #moondrop #moon x reader #sun x reader #[scheduled]

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sofasoap · 9 months

Text

Christmas love

Summary: it's Christmas time. You and Gaz are expecting a baby, and your husband think this will be a great time to gather everyone for an early Christmas gathering, also for you to meet the ladies of 141 for first time.

Pairing: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x Reader

Part of the Miss Sunshine Universe.

Warning: mature rating. Talk of pregnancy.

Note: a very self-indulgent fic that has absolutely no plot to it. And a presents to my lovely moots. 😘

The OCs belongs to:

Myléne 'Petra' Scholten de Ridder, @eenochian

Olga 'Zhar' Samiolova, @nrdmssgs

Christine 'Riot' Vega, @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot

You clutch the plate of freshly baked chocolate biscuit in your hand as you stare up at the three women standing in front of you in awe.

“Christmas gathering?”

“I thought it might be a good idea to get everyone together before the baby comes.” Kyle said as he assembled the baby cot. “I talked to your mum and dad. They are happy to host the early Christmas party at their farm before everyone breaks off. Ah there. Done.” Gaz dusts his hand as he finishes putting the last screw in, and holds out his hand to help you stand up, pulling you into his embrace.

“And there are new people I want you to meet as well. Our lovely new Dutch Medic, she’s quite excited to meet you since I told her about the baby news.” he kisses you in the temple as both of you look around, surveying the newly set up nursery. “And Nikolai has been bugging me about wanting to bring his new partner along. He's eager to show her off.”

Your eyes brighten up. “Is Simon bringing his new girlfriend too?” you asked excitedly.

Ever since your Ma heard “the poor man has no family left to celebrate the holiday with” she made sure Johnny always brought Simon back to the farm to join in on all the family holidays.

First time he arrives at the farm, Simon grumbles about how he wants to be alone for holidays,but as soon as your Ma greets him, his demeanour changes immediately.

“Ah, you must be Simon that my two little bampot kids talked about so much!! Welcome home!! ” she exclaimed, pulling Simon down to give him a big welcoming hug.

“”Ma!!”” Johnny and you groaned at the affectionate name calling from your own mother but stopped when the two of you saw Simon returning the hug, with tears streaming down his face, with Ma giving Simon a soft pat on his back.

“Sounds like it. Soap and I were pressuring him to introduce her to the family. Your Mum said she needs to approve his future daughter in law.” Gaz laughed.

So here you are, not quite sure how to start the conversation with the three elite soldiers, while the others have scattered off to mingle after all the initial greetings and quick catch up.

“Um….. Chocolate biscuits? Freshly out of the oven?” you offered timidly.

Petra.. Or she introduced herself as Mylène, took a step forward and grabbed a piece of biscuit off the plate.

“ Oh gosh …you don’t know how much I’ve been craving for these biscuits since Soap shared some with us last time..” She moaned as she took a big bite of it. “Oh these are even better, fresh....come on girls, grab one!”

Christine, who’s been very quiet, her eyes lit up and hesitantly reached for one. Her eyes fluttered close as she sighed.

“Good right? I told you.”

“I thought you were exaggerating. Olga. Come on. Try some.” Christine picked up another two, passed one more towards Olga. She hummed as a small smile appeared on her face, nibbling on the biscuit without saying a word.

You let out a small sigh, you were glad they liked the biscuits. You would be lying if you say you weren’t intimidated by three of them. You heard so much story about these amazing women from Kyle leading up to the party, with all the achievements on and off fields, you felt so… ordinary compared to them.

“Um, Coffee? Tea? Simon brewed the tea… so it should be good.” You offered, trying hard to come up with topics to break the ice. You huffled as you moved around the kitchen table trying to serve them the drinks with difficulty with your very pregnant stomach. The ladies all stood up immediately to help.

“Oh thank you.. sorry, it’s getting harder and harder for me to move around as this little pea pod grows..” you puffed out as you sat down on the chair that Olga had pulled out, insisted you to sit down while they help themselves with the refreshments.

“Oh talk about baby… Since Gaz mentioned the two of you were expecting, we all brought some gifts for you and the baby. ” Mylène clapped her hand, and waved to the other ladies to bring in the gifts from the living room.

Your eyes widen at the amount of gifts the ladies started to pile onto the table.

“That… this…” you gaped.

“All for your new family. Come on, open it up!” Mylène urged as she pointed towards the bags and boxes.

You reach for the four different colour bags first, all filled to the brim with different assortments clothes.

“ Each of the bags are clothe from age zero to two years old.” Mylène explained.

“Till two years old?!” you gasped as you took a peek into each of them. “That’s… that’s too much!”

“Nonsense. I know how fast the baby grows and the amount of clothes and stuff they go through. If you need any more things, don’t hesitate to contact me. Gaz got my number.” She reaches forward to give you a hug, reassuring you.

“And if you need anyone to babysit or a bodyguard for the baby, I can lend you my brother. Emiel will make sure no harm come to your baby if he were to look after them with his scary look.” She offered her brother’s service proudly.

“Uh, thank you??” You thanked her for her offer, trying to imagine the tall assassin with a baby carrier as you reached for the next lot of presents.

You open the second parcel, presents from Olga and Nikolai, and a very intricate Matryoshka doll and……helicopter and aeroplane plushie?

“Nik insisted on getting those.”Olga sighed. “ Saying something about.. The baby should know how her Dad and her Russian uncle’s friendship was strengthened.”

“It’s very important for them to know the story!!” Nikolai shouted from the other side of the room. Olga just rolled her eyes. You chuckled as you put it aside. “Thank you for your beautiful gifts. I was actually thinking what to put on the shelves in the nursery, these will be very fitting. Thank you. Oh! There's another little box..”as soon as you open the wooden box, a little ballerina pops up with a lullaby playing.

It’s a custom made musical box, you realised.

“Nikolai had it specially made for your little one. He originally wanted some rendition of heavy metal band music, I had to intervene and choose something more appropriate.” Olga covered her face with all the wild ideas her husband coming up with, embarrassed.

“Thank heaven you did. I think the lullaby might settle the baby down more than.. “ you laughed as you closed the lid again and leaned forward to give Olga a hug.

Finally you turned towards the blonde lady. Christine hands you two big square parcels, and wrangles her hand as you open up the wrapping paper.

You pulled out a few knitted baby clothes, hand knitted, simple but made with care. And a few warm knitted blankets too.

“You made these?” You inspect each of the clothes and design, noticing each of the onsies pairs with a blanket. A SET!. “Oh these teddy bear patterns on the blanket and the onsies.. ah! The sunflower pattern on these ones… and Stars… so cute!” You cooed.

Christine nodded her head hesitantly, “Soap mention you were going to spend the first few months after birth with the baby in Scotland, Considering how long the winter goes on for up here,I thought might be a good idea … “ she trailed off. Your smile widened and pulled her in for a hug, “ it’s a very thoughtful gift… Thank you. And to all of you as well.” You turned towards the other two, thanking them again.

“Soap couldn’t shut up about how much he is looking forward to his future niece and how much he is going to spoil her, while that husband of yours, every spare moment he’s got, he’s writing down plans for the nursery, ideas for future outings, and way of organising routines to give YOU the optimal resting time.” Mylène chuckled.

“Simon has been giving out ideas of how the team can help with babysitting duties to give you two new parents a bit of breather.” Christine added. “I don’t think he likes to admit it, but he really cares about you as a little sister.” She smiled.

“ You should see Nik.. he is already pressing me to design some sort of self defence lessons for the baby. “Olga shakes her head, exasperated at her husband’s antics.

“Three of us agree, we felt like we know you already, from all the stories we hear from the boys, the love they have for you, how well you treat them, you deserve all the kindness in the world.” Petra said.

You blinked your eyes few times, trying not to tear up from the touching words and gestures. You were still in awe how generous the ladies are with all their gifts, and you never met them before. “I just want you all to know… all of you are always welcome here, anytime. The men are always like an extended family to us, and in term, all of you are welcome to the family too. “

And after this, it became a tradition for everyone to gather at the MacTavish farm at least once a year.

#call of duty #call of duty oc #Call of duty fanfics #self indulgent

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neurosanctuary · 26 days

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i never post these two, the one on the left is my oc, Peaches, and the one on the right is my late friend's oc, Biscuit. here's my little talk!!!

i draw them often as it has been some time since my friend passed, and she lives on through the two of them hanging out and having little adventures.

i think grief is a wild experience, but also a way of showing just how much love there was for someone in our lives! she was the biggest inspiration to me, both on how to live as a person and with her art and i've never been more lucky to have been someones friend!! that's why i try to be happy and share love and joy to others. life is one of the most amazing things to me ever, there's so much that happens and so many things that we can do! it is an incredibly think

that is all!!! speak of love today!!! and give it out!!!!!!!

#wolves talks #my art

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unpredictable-probabilities · 4 months

Text

The Comforts of Us

Summary:

Hob and Dream go on a picnic date, and Hob is more than happy to show his pouty boyfriend how to have fun in the sunny outdoors.

Word Count: 1,452

Notes:

For Dreamling Week Day 5: Midsummer

---

Hob shifted in his sleep, slowly being woken up by sunlight glaring through his eyelids, but he didn’t much feel like being fully awake yet.

A shadow fell across his face, blocking out the sun.

“Are you well, my beloved?”

Hob blinked himself awake at the voice and saw that Dream had his hand up to keep the sun from reaching Hob’s eyes.

Hob smiled, taking Dream’s hand and kissing his palm. “Sorry, love, must have dozed off.” He got up from using Dream’s lap as a pillow, still sluggish from sleep.

“I do not mind. You worked late at your pub last night; you needed the rest.”

Hob sat cross-legged on their picnic blanket and brushed off the leaves that had fallen on it. “Ah, yeah, summer crowd’s like that. School’s off so people stay later than usual. Still, it’s a bit rude to fall asleep when the Prince of Stories himself is telling me a story, eh?” he said playfully.

“I may be the Prince of Stories, but when we are together I am first and foremost your lover, and your well-being is my primary concern.”

Hob chuckled and looked down, feeling his face warm. They’d been together for months now but he still wasn’t used to how Dream could be so straightforward sometimes. He wasn’t complaining, though.

“Shall we move indoors where it is not so warm?”

“Nah, the point of picnics is to enjoy the outdoors. You could dress more for the weather, you know like I suggested beforehand?” Hob raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think that black coat’s helping at all with how warm you’re feeling.”

Dream made a face that Hob liked to call an endearing pout, to Dream’s constant denial. “If we were in my realm, I would be able to control the weather to the best of our comforts.”

“We were in your realm last night, it’s my turn to arrange the date now,” Hob reminded him. “Here, let’s have some ice cream.” He reached into the cooler and got two ice cream sandwiches, passing one to Dream.

“But we had already eaten earlier,” Dream took the snack with furrowed eyebrows.

“Yeah, because we were hungry. Now we’re gonna eat for fun.” Hob tore open the plastic wrapping and took a bite of the chocolate biscuits with a vanilla ice cream filling.

“Ah, I see. Partaking in cold food is a recreational activity during summertime. What else am I to expect on these summer dates?” Dream smiled and opened the plastic wrapping of his sandwich.

“Well, there’s the beach,” Hob said thoughtfully. “But if you’re already suffering from the heat here, I can't even imagine how you'll be at a beach,” he teased. But unfortunately it turned out that he could imagine it quite vividly; images of Dream sunbathing in nothing but beach shorts sprung up in his mind, Dream’s pale skin glowing under the sun while he lay back on the soft sand.

Hob took a bottle of soda from the cooler and drank, feeling a little warm himself.

“Hob.”

Hob looked over and saw Dream lying on his side, propped up on one elbow with a half-eaten ice cream sandwich in hand. He had decided to remove his coat, after all.

“If you wish to see me half-naked, you know you need only ask.” He took a bite of the sandwich and licked a smudge of vanilla ice cream off his bottom lip, never breaking eye contact.

Hob swallowed. His traitorous brain chose that moment to recall all the times he had seen Dream more-than-half-naked, both in the Dreaming and Waking. And judging by Dream’s smirk, he was well-aware of it.

“You are going to get us arrested for public indecency.” Hob finished the last of his sandwich and stood up, brushing the crumbs off his hands. “Come on, let's go to the lake.”

Dream tilted his head curiously. “What for?”

“For a swim. You said you were warm, right?” Hob walked ahead to the nearby lake without waiting to see if Dream was following. He needed to cool down for several reasons now, and if his boyfriend was going to continue flirting, it might be better if Hob was submerged from the waist down.

There were already a few people in the lake, laughing and swimming and playing games. The day was particularly hot, and it was a common sight at this time of the year.

Dream appeared beside Hob, staring at the water with a subtle wrinkle of his nose. “There are people in it.”

Hob smiled in amusement. “It's a public park, love. There's still more than enough room for us to swim around.”

He removed his shoes and waded in the lake, then he dove under and swam a short distance away before swimming back and resurfacing, enjoying the refreshing water after being under the sun for so long.

“Come on, love,” he called out to Dream. “The water's great!”

Dream didn't look any less displeased. “I shall take your word for it. I prefer to remain here.”

Hob sighed and waded back to the shore. “Fine. Just help me up,” he held out a hand.

Dream crouched down and grabbed his arm, pulling him effortlessly out of the lake. As soon as Hob stepped on land, he turned and shoved Dream as hard as he could into the water.

Dream gave a cry of surprise and fell in with a loud splash.

Hob was still laughing when Dream resurfaced, glaring at him with his hair sticking to his forehead.

Before Dream could say anything, Hob jumped back into the water, creating another splash that sent water up in Dream's face.

“Hob!” Dream wiped water from his eyes in exasperation. “How dare you trick me in this manner?”

“Oh, you love it,” Hob grinned, gently brushing the hair away from Dream’s forehead.

Dream narrowed his eyes at Hob, but there was a fond smile on his face. He put his hands on the small of Hob's back and pulled him closer. “I love you. Insolence and all.”

Hob's breath caught in his throat, and he found himself pressing a kiss to Dream's lips, his hands holding onto Dream’s shoulders. The kiss was soft and lingering, giving Hob a warm feeling in his chest that made him sigh.

“I love you,” he whispered against Dream’s lips. He took a step back and smiled. “Now can we swim? You do know how to swim, right?”

Dream furrows his eyebrows thoughtfully. “I have never attempted it, not in this human form. I suppose we shall see,” he smiled.

It turned out that Dream could swim pretty well, after getting used to doing the motions that Hob showed him. They swam around for the better part of an hour, with Dream diving and swimming underwater for long periods of time with the advantage of not needing to breathe.

Hob splashed him with water several more times, until Dream fought back with his own attacks. Hob was pretty sure that Dream was summoning water from the Dreaming at some point; there was no way that he could make those big waves if he wasn't using magic. But it didn't matter, because they were both laughing, and Dream's face was brighter than any sun.

They made their way back to the picnic blanket eventually, lying on their backs and letting the sun dry their clothes that were stuck to their damp skin. A few clouds had appeared, and they made a game of coming up with stories from the shapes of the clouds that passed by. Dream’s voice had a soothing quality whenever he told a story, no wonder Hob could easily fall asleep to it.

Hob finished his story about a fluffy rabbit chasing a wheel of cheese, and he realised that Dream had been quiet for a while.

He looked over and saw that Dream was staring at him, a soft smile on his face.

Hob was always rendered speechless whenever Dream looked at him like that, like he hung the sun and stars in the sky and Dream was staring in open adoration.

“Thank you for today, Hob. It has been wonderful.”

“Even with the hot sun and the noisy people at the lake?” Hob raised an eyebrow teasingly.

Dream nodded once. “Any day that I get to spend with you is a perfect one.”

Hob fell silent and smiled, gazing into those blue eyes that he now knew so well.

Dream moved closer and rested his head on Hob’s chest.

Hob wrapped his arms around Dream, and they lay there telling each other stories even after their clothes had long since dried under the softening rays of the sun.

---

(Dreamling Week Masterpost)

(Masterlist)

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voldemorts-tap-shoes · 1 year

Text

For era #2 (1989/evermore) of @cruelsummer-ficfest 💕

✨ Gold Rush ✨

My mind turns your life into folklore

I can't dare to dream about you anymore

“There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

“Anything you want.”

“You say that every day.”

“It’s true every day. I’m all yours. So what’s on the agenda?”

“You and Lavender.”

“Ugh. Pass.”

“Ron.”

“Why don’t I just throw myself off a bluff into the ocean instead?”

“Ron.”

“Okay, okay. What about me and Lavender?”

“Well, I suppose it’s more so about me and Lavender…”

“Were you snogging her, too?”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake. I’m going to push you off a bluff into the ocean.”

“Honestly, Hermione, out with it, then. What about me and you and Lavender?”

“I never apologized to you.”

“You did, actually, about a hundred times.”

“For the birds, yes. Not for the rest of it.”

“I think the rest of it was more my doing, so…”

“I should’ve been more clear about my intentions for Slughorn’s Christmas party. And about my feelings for you in general.”

“You really don’t have to apologize for that.”

“I do. You’ve said plenty of sorry’s over the past few weeks, and I owe you some, too. Maybe if I had told you how I felt last year, we wouldn’t have wasted so much time.”

“If you’d told me how you felt, I probably would have snogged you right there in the greenhouse, and we’d have both wound up in detention. Besides, you could say that about a lot of things in the past year—hell, the past few years—but that doesn’t make it your fault that we missed out on that time.”

“I should’ve fought for you.”

“Fought for me? You make it sound like I’m the last of Mum’s Christmas biscuits around nine hungry Weasleys.”

“Well, that’s sort of how it felt last year, with everybody wondering what it would be like to love you.”

“Who’s everybody?”

“Okay, maybe not everyone. But Lavender and I, obviously. Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones both thought you were quite fit. And I do believe Anthony Goldstein would have been interested if you were so inclined.”

“Huh. Always wondered why he wanted my help with homework instead of yours. Suppose Wingardium Leviosa wasn’t the only one of my charms that caught his eye.”

“You are so lame. Why do I love you, again?”

“You just said it, I’m good with my wand.”

“Anyway…I didn’t like the Ron Weasley gold rush that seemed to be taking place. Selfishly, I hated the idea that I was going to have to compete for your attention.”

“You had it already, you know.”

“Until I didn’t. I didn’t make it clear that my hat was in the ring, and when Lavender kissed you, I folded. You had every right to carry on with her, even though I hated every second of it. I always wondered what it must be like to grow up that beautiful, and then she had you, too…”

“Hermione—”

“I was jealous, and I acted foolishly, and I took you for granted. You had to nearly die for me to see how horrible I was to you. So I’m sorry.”

“Apology still not necessary, but accepted.”

“Thank you.”

“For what it’s worth? You wouldn’t have had to fight that hard, if you had. It’s always been you. No contest.”

“For me, too. No contest.”

“But…do you ever think maybe it’s a good thing I had that little detour with Lavender?”

“You know, the wind really is quite strong out here on the coast. I could make your death look like an accident.”

“I’m serious. We don’t know what would have happened if you and I got together sooner. I do know we’re here now. I wouldn’t trade the path we took, because I wouldn’t want to end up somewhere else.”

“That’s actually very sweet.”

“Always the—”

“—tone of surprise, yes, yes, I know. I should stop being surprised by you by now, but it keeps things exciting, doesn’t it?”

“Good save.”

“Speaking of surprises, do you think Harry realizes anything has changed between us?”

“Hermione, the man has got more important things to think about than if you and I have finally got our heads out of our arses. We’re trying to save the world here.”

“So definitely yes?”

“Definitely yes.”

“I suppose it’s not exactly subtle that you’ve been sleeping in my room every night.”

“We don’t sleep every night…”

“That’s beside the point.”

“I think that’s exactly the point, and—are you blushing?”

“We should get back, Fleur will have dinner on soon.”

“I can’t believe you’re blushing. Especially after last night…”

“Ronald!”

“Wow, two weeks together, and you’re already embarrassed of our relationship. That cliff is looking better and better every minute.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, you love me.”

“Alas. Yes, I do. And you love me.”

“Yep. I reckon you’re stuck with me now.”

And the coastal town

We wandered 'round had never

Seen a love as pure as it

#romione #ron weasley #hermione granger #ron x hermione #harry potter #romione fanfiction #cruel summer fic fest #shell cottage

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keanureevesisbae · 2 years

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endeavors #15 - the end

Summary: How are Grace and August doing now?

August Walker x Grace Stanford (asian ofc)

Wordcount: 0.7k

Warning: Mentions of sex, just the usual they do. Sex, cum, orgasms, squirting. You know the deal with them.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading this fic! I hope you enjoyed it 😘

Masterlist // endeavors masterlist

5 years later

August and I started dating after the rooftop confession and he was right: we skipped over the awkward first phase and we were passed uncomfortable sex. August wouldn’t be August if he didn’t make a program—quite frankly he is obsessed with them—but I have to agree: the program worked. He planned dates, fun holidays and meetings to get to know each other’s family. Our friends already knew this was going to happen eventually and his friends had to confess they know what August did that time they were over.

I’ve gotten over that awkwardness eventually.

A lot of the things in those five years remained. I still didn’t wear my underwear at home, he fucked me whenever he wanted and we ventured out to have sex in public, though the rooftop remained our favorite. Visitations to the sex shop. A show with the dildo. Deep throating.

It was all part of his program and for that I love him dearly.

After he and I got married two years ago, we moved out of the apartment and bought a house, like the domestic couple we were. Days were spend in bed and with each other. Quite frankly we’re disgusting together, cockwarming whenever we can, sex while we know friends can come over at any time and him desperate to make me squirt.

I hold onto the bathroom counter, feeling his entire cock thrust in a rough pace inside. I watch my breasts bounce with every thrust through the mirror. August gently takes a hold of my hair, giving it a slight pull. I whimper when I start clenching around him.

‘Good girl,’ he says. ‘Cum for me once more, okay?’

And that pushes me over the edge. He holds me up by my hips, snickering softly when I squirt passed his cock. And it’s enough for him to reach his high and ride it out. He presses kisses on my shoulder, whispering sweet little nothings against my skin. He pulls out and like he always does, cleans me up straight away.

Together we walk towards the bed and because it’s too hot to wear clothes anyway (and August likes for us to sleep with nothing on, seizing every opportunity to have me naked around him), I don’t even bother putting on a shirt.

Once he tugged me underneath the thin sheets, he kisses my forehead and tells me he’ll be right back, leaving our bedroom to go to the kitchen.

My hand slides to my protruding stomach, revealing a five month baby bump. It was both a surprise and expected when we found out we were having a baby. August always said that babies were something of the future, but as we set more steps into the future, his desire for kids grew. While I was ready for them years ago, I needed him to be one hundred percent on board with it.

And boy, is he board with it.

August walks back in with some biscuits and some juice and places it on my nightstand. Then he climbs in the bed and says: ‘You know what genuinely surprised me.’

‘Enlighten me.’

‘That it took us this long to knock you up.’

‘Ovulation is a thing, August,’ I tell him. ‘You can’t expect me becoming pregnant if you fill me up every moment you’ve got to spare.’

‘Was worth a shot and you did not complain.’ He smirks proudly and places his hand on my stomach. ‘And you will never hear me complaining about this skyrocketing sex drive of yours. Is this libido permanent or not?’

I shrug. ‘You have to leave me alone for at least six weeks after the baby is here.’

He nods. ‘I’ll work ahead, drag as many orgasms out of you as possible now, so we can take a six week break.’ He snaps his finger. ‘You what? I’ll make a schedule.’

‘Shut up,’ I laugh and he leans in for a long kiss. ‘If you kiss me any longer, you might have to fuck me again.’

‘You know I’ve got plenty ways to satisfy you,’ he says. ‘But you need your rest, Grace.’

I roll my eyes, before sliding down so I can lay on my side. He spoons me almost instantly, his hand on my stomach and I whisper: ‘I love you, August Walker.’

He kisses my naked shoulder. ‘I love you more, Grace Walker.’

To a happily ever after.

﹌﹌

endeavors taglist: @diegos-butt // @thelastsock // @liecastillo // @mis-lil-red // @sofiebstar // @abschaffer2 // @crazybutconfidentaf // @summersong69 // @gearhead66 // @xobriellaxo24 // @kebabgirl67 // @eldarwen333 // @kingliam2019 // @cherry-gemz // @sillyrabbit81 // @enchantedbytomandhenry // @lyrarodriguez // @islacharlotte // @sunshine96love // @oddsnendsfanfics // @xuxszx // @omgkatinka // @pterodactylterrace / @peaches1958 // @pandaxnienke // @teamfan7asy // @raccoon-eyed-rebel // @geralts-yenn

#august walker #august walker fanfiction #august walker x ofc #august walker x asian ofc #august walker x grace stanford #august walker smut #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill #asian ofc #grace stanford #endeavors

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alexanderlightweight · 1 year

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I'm so glad I got this in in time! I've seen people write about Alec getting revenge on Camile for Magnus, but what about his others ex's. The ones that cheated, or hated his eyes, or took advantage of them. I don't think Alec would kill them but i could see him making their lives hell

Bold of you to assume, dear anon, that ragnor and cat wouldn't get there first. no but in all honesty, i couldn't figure out a way to write it with alec so i hope you'll accept this cat and ragnor snippet and that you enjoy it

lumine

Cat raises a brow at Imasu and lets her laugh fill the room. Her humor is a thousand times more vibrant and beautiful that any note Magnus’ ex-paramour ever created could be.

“You would leave him because you think he is ephemeral, but your entire existence will be but a season in his life.” Cat tells Imasu and her eyes watch him with a darkness Ragnor knows is mirrored in his own. “The summary of your life will be a sidenote in his and while his thoughts of you fade, you will never be able to forget him.”

It’s not even a curse, simply the truth and Ragnor wishes he could simply turn Imasu into fish bait, however Magnus would eventually find out and never let him hear the end of it.

You turn one-too-many-ex-paramours into fish bait and suddenly, it’s a bad habit and “if you keep it up, they’ll mistake you for a serial killer, Ragnor.” Hence, why Ragnor leaves disposal and threats to Cat and only steps in when she graciously steps aside. Like now, where she steps back and smirks at him and Ragnor blows out a smoke ring, letting it go coal-red and hot as it lingers in the air next to Imasu’s cheek.

“You won’t be seeing us again.” Ragnor tells him gently, “but if you ever think you might. Turn the other way, child. You mustn’t test us on this.”

Imasu runs with the terror of a prey being hunted but Ragnor is content with merely playing for now. Cat has put the fear of hell into him and there are few who go against her after she has spoken to them in such a way.

—

“Camille.” Cat says with a scowl as she gently sets her book down on the table. She then slams her fist on the wood next to it, Ragnor’s delicate teacups rattling from the force of her rage.

“What about the little leech?” Ragnor grumpily shoots back, because he was having a decent morning before Cat portaled in before Ragnor had even managed toast.

“What are we doing about her?”

“Magnus has invoked a veto.” Ragnor huffs and he cracks his egg with a spoon, neatly using magic to take the top off. “Sit yourself down, Cat dearest. Kiwis or papaya?” Ragnor asks and then, because he’s rather partial to papaya himself, he summons both with plenty of lime and some strawberries.

“If you’d added porridge, I would have been reminded of our ship breakfasts.” Cat says with a laugh as she summons biscuits from the shop, she refuses to share with Ragnor. Ragnor plucks a biscuit from her and breaks it in half, enjoying the ginger-molasses of it as he takes a sip of tea.

“There is a reason I refuse to eat porridge.” Ragnor mutters, “Magnus never remembered to clean out the pot before he let the galley make food. Do you remember all those sea potion experiments?”

Cat grimaces and nods, “yes. Especially when his potion dregs turned that fish stew purple. None of us questioned why it was purple until everyone had eaten it.”

“Yes, that time.”

“Don’t we have a free pass from that experience?” Cat asks leadingly, “we both disagree with the veto. Technically, we could bypass it.”

Ragnor contemplates it seriously for a little bit and then he grins, because there is a way to make this work and it’s even something they’d done before.

“Camille is a bit arrogant; wouldn’t you say?” Ragnor winks at Cat, “a bit quick to bite off more than she can swallow.”

Cat grins darkly back, “she is.”

“It wouldn’t be too suspect for her to go after someone with a great deal of knowledge, perhaps even one who had knowledge of vampiric power and lore.” Ragnor motioned to himself, “and of course Magnus would never expect me to allow myself to be attacked.”

“No, in fact he’s set half of the wards on most of the safehouses.” Cat offers him another biscuit and Ragnor takes it with a smirk, “well then, I apologize for interrupting your breakfast. I suppose we have our plan after all.”

“Yes, yes. A lovely plan. Now, about that breakfast, Cat. You’re a nurse, you should know better!” Ragnor exclaims, summoning a few of her favorite artichoke and chicken sausages with a fresh loaf of crusty bread. “Meals are important—” Ragnor waves his knife at her before he dips it into his pot of mustard, “especially with good company. Now, you look worn ragged. You tell me all of the horrible things you want to do to Camille, and I’ll figure out how to make some of them happen, but first, you eat, and I’ll tell you about this little cottage I bought for the three of us. I think we need a vacation, something to get away from the downworld after the drama of Camille and—”

Ragnor eats and nudges food towards her as he talks until her smile reaches her eyes and her fingers no longer tremble from how hard she’s gripping her utensils. Perhaps Magnus is the one with his heart broken by Camille, but every day that they cannot help soothe his pain, breaks Ragnor and Cat’s hearts in turn.

It’s something they will never tell him and hope he never learns.

#lumine writes #writing wednesdays #writing wednesday #ragnor fell #catarina loss #food tw #shadowhunters #my fics #my fanfics #my ficlets

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softguarnere · 1 year

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Like A Girl (Like A Man)

Shifty Powers x OFC

Chapter 21: Datalesvi Anina

Summary: “Bill may be our smartest NCO, but he doesn’t know everything.” A/N: The moment we've all been waiting for: Bastogne (Chapter title translates to "they are sitting in holes") Warnings: improper binding, language, war Taglist: @latibvles @lady-cheeky @liebgotts-lovergirl @mrs-murder-daddy @ithinkabouttzu @mads-weasley @lieutenant-speirs

Belgium, 1944

After a few days, Zenie comes to the conclusion that if she keeps her eyes shut tight, lets her brain remain fuzzy with sleep, and leans into the warmth beside her, she can almost – almost – trick herself into thinking that she is a little girl again, back in North Carolina, curled up under her blankets on a frosty morning while she waits for the smell of Granny’s warm biscuits to draw her downstairs for breakfast. The shaking of the shattered earth, the groans and cries of men, and the heavy cold always shatter the illusion the second that she becomes a little more awake.

Holland’s water-filled foxholes felt like hell. Clearly none of them understood true hell until they walked into Bastogne. No wonder the men who were here before them were retreating so quickly.

There is no room for secrets in a place like this. Where would they put them? You can cling to them in your foxhole, but someone is there with you, and they’re bound to find out at some point, to see the real you, made up of everything you’ve tried to hide. At least in Holland they could get up and move around. Here, in Bastogne, they have to be ready to dive into a foxhole at any second.

They are only safe inside the earth. And that is where their secrets start to become known.

With the line stretched so thin, it’s hard to keep up with friends. Word travels fast, though, in the way that rumors always do. That’s how the rest of the company finds out that Shifty talks in his sleep, that Perconte has practically an entire drugstore in his bag, and that Liebgott and Toye both like to sing to pass the time.

Every day that they spend in this place makes Zenie feel like she’s holding onto her own secret for dear life. Her fingers ache from the effort. Her determination isn’t slipping, exactly, but her frustration is rising.

There is no aide station for Gene to take her back to whenever he insists she loosen or change her bandages. She tries to share a foxhole with him when she can. He’s so busy running around the line, though, that her other friends often fill his place, insisting that she shouldn’t be alone. They all learned in Holland that loneliness is no way to survive. Shifty is further up the line and gets sent on too many patrols for her to share a foxhole with him – the only other person she can trust with this secret of hers. That’s how she usually finds herself sitting beside Bill, or when he’s making his rounds, Babe and his old friend, John Julian.

Babe and Julian went through training together. Even though they go way back, she never feels excluded when she’s with them. They tell her stories of jump school shenanigans that make her feel like she’s part of the joke instead of watching two friends reminisce about the good old days.

“You know he’s a virgin?” It’s one of their first days in Bastogne. Julian hasn’t made it back from the pitiful excuse of a chow-line yet, and Babe’s question comes out of nowhere.

Zenie blinks. “Oh?”

“Yeah.”

Silence washes over them as they watch the line. As she stares ahead, Zenie can feel Babe very pointedly trying to not look at her from the corner of his eye.

“Why are you telling me this?”

Babe shrugs. “Just thought I’d let ya know that it’s okay, I guess. You ain’t the only one. Although I don’t know how you guys do it. I’d be afraid of dying without experiencing true heaven.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about me, Babe.” The confession slips out before she really grasps the weight of what she’s just said. Funny, realizing how much things have changed. She bites her bottom lip to keep from giggling at it all.

Her friend balks. “What?! When?”

Well, if she’s already confessed – albeit by accident – there’s no use in lying. “Paris.”

“Out on your pass?”

“Yep.”

“Unbelievable.” Babe shakes his head. “Bill said you were a virgin.”

Why would he need to tell Babe that? Unless, she freezes at the thought, he was telling his fellow Philadelphian about her embarrassment with the pin-up of Beckie.

“Bill may be our smartest NCO, but he doesn’t know everything.”

“He doesn’t know?” When Zenie shakes her head, a small cloud of steam escapes from Babe’s mouth as he huffs a warm laugh into the cold air. “Unbelievable,” he repeats.

Without him, Zenie thinks back to the hotel room in Paris – all the ways that she and Shifty caressed each other and the way that he smiled at her the next morning, beaming, like the sun glittering over the dew-crowned trees on a fresh spring morning.

Yes, she’s inclined to agree. Unbelievable.

Back in Holland the days bled together, each as miserable and wet as the last. At least there she could find apples anywhere she looked. Here, in Bastogne, she’s once again in a hole in the ground, surrounded by trees, but there is nothing to eat, and the endless precipitation is the snow that seems to fall without fail every night.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whack! Whoosh! Bill is brushing the fresh snow from the tarp they’ve been using to cover their foxhole at night. It doesn’t do much in terms of keeping heat in, but at least it keeps the snow off of them while they sleep.

Zenie’s joints pop as she stretches. It draws Bill’s attention, and he stops cleaning off the tarp.

“Mornin’.”

Zenie grunts in response. No “good” before the word. Simply a statement of fact: this is another morning that they have reached.

Bill folds the tarp back and sits back in the foxhole with a sigh. “Why don’t you go check and see if there’s any breakfast?” He suggests.

There won’t be. There hardly ever is. It just gives Zenie something to do other than walking from foxhole to foxhole, visiting with the other men in between the shellings that the Germans send their way. At least Bill has an actual excuse to walk around. Checking the line and checking up on the men might be what got him hurt back in Holland, but he still takes his duties as an NCO seriously.

It almost makes Zenie wish that she would get promoted. Then no one could say anything if she wandered a bit too far in the woods looking for third platoon – (looking for Shifty.) On their second day here, she got lost after trying to find somewhere to loosen her bandages. She stumbled across a frozen pile of German bodies, frost thick on their winter coats. After that, she decided not to stray too far from her foxhole anymore.

With a sigh, she pulls herself out of the hole, the crunch of snow greeting her when she stands and stretches.

“You want anything?”

Bill’s lips are pressed together as he stares at the line. After a moment he breaks his focus, nodding up at her. “If they’ve got it.”

They don’t. Not even the pitiful cup of water with two beans floating in it that they served at midday the day before. (Well, it felt like midday, at least. It could have been any time of day, and only the men with watches would be the wiser.)

She stops to greet Luz and a few other men on her way back. George has a few quips about their situation. Other people have a few choice words about the cold. They all laugh, and it sounds warm and out of place in this frozen land.

“Nothing?” Bill asks when she returns.

“Not a drop.”

He sighs, starts to stand. “Well then. Looks – “

Boom! The ground shakes under Zenie’s feet as the first explosion of the morning signals the start of the day.

“Incoming!” Someone’s voice announces. It sounds like Sergeant Lipton that yells, over the successive series of booming explosions that pierce the air, “Get in your foxholes!”

“Get in!” Bill demands.

The ground still shaking, Zenie lurches forward, trying to dive into the foxhole with her friend. Her feet hit the bottom of the pit and she’s starting to crouch down when she hears a whizzing noise nearby. The air shakes as the Germans fire at them. It feels so close that she freezes, like a deer that’s been stumbled upon in the woods. She feels Bill’s hand clench around her right shoulder and drag her the rest of the way down.

She lands so roughly that for a second, the pain in her side from landing on Bill distracts from the horrible slicing pain that races through her left arm. Foxholes are supposed to keep them safe, but once inside them, it feels like the whole world trembles endlessly. This time it knocks the breath out of her, making her gasp as white-hot electricity races through her arm. Her whole body feels hot – which seems incongruous, considering where they are – and despite all her wishes, she knows the truth: she’s been hit.

Summer heat takes hold of her body. She wished for warmth, and boy, has she got it now. Late July afternoons, full of humidity and sweat, have found her in this frozen place. No ice cream and running through the fields, though. This is the worst parts of summer – the Dog Days, with their high temperatures and mosquitos eating her legs. All that’s missing is the screaming of the cicadas. To prove its presence, a sheen of sweat overtakes her as a side effect of the heat.

The only reason she knows the shelling has stopped is that no more deafening explosions thunder through the sky above them. The world still shakes – except, it’s actually just her shaking. And the echoing in her ears is from the blood pumping through them, fast as a train.

“You alright, Tommy?” Bill asks.

Slowly, she pushes herself up. She keeps her eyes squeezed shut when the movement sends new jolts of pain through her left side. Maybe it’s not actually that bad. Maybe it’s like a bee sting in that it just feels bad, but it actually very small. She just needs a minute before she looks.

It’s a minute that she doesn’t get. Bill curses under his breath beside her. Something is wrong.

Warm blood leeks from gashes in her sleeve. Most of it is coming from her arm, in a steady trickle that begins at her shoulder. But thank God, she realizes, her arm is still attached to her body, like it should be. And, as an added bonus, when she chokes back the bile burning her throat and tries to inspect the damage, she can still move it, as well as her fingers.

“Medic!” Bill hollers.

The word drags her out of her temporary solace. She’s been hit and she needs a medic, to patch her up, to send her to an aide station. Those don’t exist here, though. And they’re running low on medics as well.

“No,” Zenie hisses, despite the pain in her arm. “Don’t!”

Bill’s eyes go wide as his brow furrows. “Are you crazy? You need a – Medic!”

What if Spina is the nearest medic? What if they have to remove her jacket in front of everyone?

“Bill, I’m fine. Stop!”

The Staff Sergeant doesn’t listen. In fact, he outright ignores her as he reaches into his pockets, muttering to himself. “I got some left-over sulfa power in here somewhere. Where the fuck – ? Aha! Tommy, hold still, will ya? Medic!”

He moves towards her then. There’s nowhere for her to go. It would be hard enough to drag herself out of the foxhole with one arm, and even harder when Bill looks like he’s ready to chase her down. She presses herself against the frozen earth behind her, trying to dodge her friend as he comes closer.

“Bill, stop!”

“Tommy, you gotta let me – “ Bill takes hold of her jacket and rips it open. Cold air hits her chest, although it doesn’t stop the heat that’s still coursing through her. A new wave of it rushes over her in both embarrassment and pain as Bill fights to remove her jacket from her shoulder. When it’s free he clenches the packet of sulfa powder between his teeth, ready to tear it open . . . He pauses, his eyes taking in the full extent of the scene before him. “What the fuck?”

Maybe it’s the way that Zenie manages to push him away and tug her jacket up to cover her bandaged chest that gives it away. Or maybe it’s the way her face burns with shame, how she can’t look her best friend in the eye. Besides, Bill is smart, and he knows that she’s never been hit. It doesn’t take him very long to figure out what the bandages are for.

“Oh Christ,” he whispers, his eyes still fixed on her bandages. They’re the size of saucers when he finally manages to move them to her face. “You’re a broad!”

A broad. Huh. So that’s what someone from South Philly would call a girl. Back on the ship that brought them to Europe, she had once wondered about it. She had wondered about the reactions of her friends, too, if they were to learn her secret.

Well, now she knows.

“Sorry,” Zenie whispers, because it’s the only thing she can think to say.

“Since when?!”

“Since birth.”

“Jesus, this whole time? And I never knew!?” His face pales. “Ah, Christ . . . I’ve told ya too much. Shit! I gave you that pin-up and everything!”

The crunch of snow announces a new presence behind them, coming in fast. “Who’s been hit?”

Eugene jumps down into the foxhole, landing so that Zenie is between him and Bill. His medic brain kicks in first as he reaches out to move her jacket so that he can inspect the damage. He freezes, his hands only just grazing her jacket when he glances over at Bill.

“Tommy got hit. I think mostly in the shoulder.”

Gene looks between Zenie and their sergeant. Reluctantly, she nods. He already knows; the damage is done.

She hisses in pain when Gene peels back her jacket to inspect her. He mutters something in French that’s as smooth and slow as molasses. An apology, maybe. How many of those will this foxhole hear? Despite all that’s happened, he’s a soothing presence. Now Zenie knows why he’s Easy’s preferred medic.

“Shrapnel,” Gene announces. “Peppered your arm. Missed the arteries, though. Nothin’ deep, except one cut that’ll need to be stitched up. Maybe get some little pieces removed. I can do it back in the town.”

“Got lucky, huh?” Bill asks. His voice is full of a tone that Zenie has never heard before. He sounds lighthearted and troubled all at once. “Missed your tits, thank God.” A grimace that might be an attempt at a smile appears behind the beard he’s started growing.

“She did,” Gene agrees. Gently, he helps her adjust her jacket, and then both he and Bill help her to her feet and out of the foxhole.

“He – I mean, is she gonna be okay, Doc?”

A pause.

“Yeah,” Gene replies. “Yeah, she should be.”

He escorts her away then, talking about catching the Jeep before it heads back into the town with Skinny Sisk, who’s been hit in the leg. Zenie casts a glance back over her shoulder at Bill, who stands in the foxhole, watching her go. Maybe for the last time, now that he knows her secret. His expression is inscrutable – so unlike him.

She’s come all this way. Starting in her bedroom, ending in Belgium. And now she’s being taken away from the line. Gene will patch her up . . . And then what? Damn!

Gene helps her up into the Jeep, keeps his fingers wrapped loosely on her good shoulder as they ride so that she doesn’t topple off their precarious perch on the back of it. The medic catches her eye and offers her a nod. She can only wonder what it means.

#screaming crying yelling #idk if this one's any good but I've been sitting on it for a while omg #shifty powers x original female character #shifty powers x ofc #shifty powers #band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers x ofc #band of brothers x oc #oc zenie mcglamery #like a girl (like a man)#my writing #bill guarnere

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