#responded to this while walking in a snow storm

[rodolfoparras]

Do you have any recs of good cod blogs to follow? 👉👈 I’m very new to the tumblr fandom nd would be v grateful!! Your blog is great btw

First of all sugar thank you so much for your sweet words 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Second of all here are some blogs i recommend

@lieutnt (writes mostly for cod), @miguel-owhora (mix of cod and atsv) @batfleshh (cod) @astroknottt (mix of different fandoms) @agoofyannoyancetolaw (cod def a must follow if you’re looking for graves’ smut pieces) @bonesnmore (mostly cod but writes for other fandoms too) @gildedkrone (cod, got alerudy stuff if you’re on the look out) @gazmialmagemela (mostly cod) @odetodilfs (mix of fandoms, writes for Pedro pascal!) @thegnomelord (mostly cod) @yourftmfriend (mostly cod but writes for other fandoms as well!)

[sodaabaa]

wings a court of thorns and roses

rhysand x reader reader is mesmerized by rhysand's wings and he makes a tempting suggestion.

tw: slightly nsfw

playlist here!

I was sitting in my room when I heard the front door slam. I could feel his anger, a whole level above him, through closed doors. I put the sketchbook I was holding on my desk as I got up to see what all the commotion was about. As I made my way down the spiraling stairs, I saw Rhys storm into his room, shadows trailing behind him. I glanced at Cassian and Mor, raising my eyebrows in question. They simply shook their heads, don’t push him. 

I felt another pulse of anger through the bond, he must’ve been infuriated if he let these surges of emotion pass through the bond. I looked at his door, contemplating whether he’d kill me if I tried to talk to him. I had to try, at the very least.

As I walked across the hall, Mor grabbed my arm. “Hybern used faebane. He’s angry, give him some space to cool down.”

I shook my head, “he could be injured, let me just check up on him.” 

She let go of my arm but I could sense her and Cassian say a silent prayer for me to walk out of that room alive. I rolled my eyes at them, mustering up all the courage I had before walking towards his door.

I took a deep breath and cracked the door open to peer inside, hoping he couldn’t sense me behind the door. 

“Come in if you dare. I won’t kill you but I make no promise to spare those morons in the hall.” 

Humor. That’s unexpected. This shouldn’t be that hard, seeing how he was cheery enough to mock Cassian and Mor still. 

I walked in, my feet shuffling against the obsidian floor. He was standing before the window, gazing at the starless night sky, as if the stars too, could feel his anger and decided against shining tonight in solidarity for their High Lord. His wings were out. Wings. This was the first time I’d seen them. They were identical to Cassian and Azriel’s wings and dark, so dark that it seemed to eat up any light that dared to shine around them. What would it be like, to use those onyx wings as a backdrop for a starry night sky? 

“Are you hurt?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. 

He removed his attention from the window to answer my question. “Not badly. I’ll heal.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

Silence. His attention turned back to the mountains in the distance. “He baited me. I should have been more careful. Should’ve known about the faebane.” 

I paused, unsure of how to respond. 

“You can’t know everything. It was a slip up, now you know how to handle confronting him next time.” 

“Next time I see him, it won't be to confront him.” He grumbled. A simple threat, frightening nonetheless.

Again, my eyes wandered to his wings. Imagining the things I could paint. The moon illuminating snow capped mountains, stars glittering like diamonds against the black of his wings. 

If you’d like to paint my wings, darling, all you have to do is ask. 

I was mid gasp when I coughed instead, earning a chuckle from Rhys. I had forgotten about my shields all night since I’d been painting in my room, no use for mental barriers when there was no one around.

He turned, facing me expectantly. 

“You’re not serious.” I said.

He merely raised his eyebrows. 

“You’re injured.” Excuses. I knew that was just an excuse. To paint him, I’d have to get too close to him. I wasn’t ready for that.

No need to be afraid, I won’t bite. 

I cursed him, “pig.” 

A breathy laugh. 

“Cassian and Mor were terrified of you just then. I’m pretty sure they prayed I’d come back in one piece.” I said.

He shifted, his eyes dropping to the floor. “They know better than to cross me while I’m angry.” 

“You don’t seem very angry, quite the opposite actually.”

He hesitated for a second. “You’re a soothing presence.”

I looked away, cheeks heating up.

“Paint my wings.” He said, breaking the silence.

I opened my mouth in protest but hesitated when our eyes met. His violet eyes were full of hope and anticipation. 

“Fine.” I huffed, a sly smile creeped onto his lips. Night Triumphant indeed. 

I made my way to the door to gather my paints but before I could even walk a step, Rhys waved his hand and my paints along with brushes appeared on his bed. 

I shot him a playful look which he returned.

“Alright, lay on your stomach then. If you get hurt any further, it’s your fault.” 

“I’d gladly let you hurt me darling.” He retorted.

I bit back a laugh, “who knew the High Lord of the Night was a masochist. I’d pegged you to be the sadist type.” 

A devilish grin and equally vicious eyes narrowed at me. “I’m whatever you want me to be, angel.” 

I fought the butterflies in my stomach, urged them to go away. 

He sprawled out on the silk sheets, his wings laid out before me. I readied my paints and leaned over him, standing on the edge of the bed to start the base layer. It wasn’t the most comfortable position but it would have to do. Though it seemed like Rhys had other plans.

“It’d be much easier if you took a seat, darling.” Despite not being able to see his face, I could hear the smirk in his voice.

“I’m not sitting on you Rhys.” I said. 

“You wouldn’t want the throne to go cold would you darling?” 

I rolled my eyes, “I’m not gonna make this comfortable for you Rhys.”

His response was that breathy laugh, the one that made my skin burn and my stomach flutter. I made sure my shields were up before climbing onto his hips, my thighs on either side of him. 

“This seems pretty comfortable to me, what happened to the promise of pain?” He taunted.

I smacked the back of his head, “let me paint in peace.”

“You make me suffer, angel.” 

“Good.” I replied.

For the next hour, I lost myself in painting his magnificent wings. Time slipped away as I focused on getting every star, every cloud, every snowy mountain right. Rhys seemed to enjoy the quiet as well, his head resting on his arms as he watched me in the mirror. I tried not to shy away from his gaze. 

“I think I’m done.” 

“Finally, my back is aching.” 

I winced, I completely forgot he was hurt. I scrambled to get off him but before I could, he turned onto his back, positioning his hands on my waist, keeping me straddled on his hips. 

“Rhys! The painting!” My eyes widened, the paint was going to smudge. He was laying on his back now, watching me panic before saying, “Don’t worry, it’s dried. I made sure of it.”

A sigh of relief left my lips.

“Then let me off.”

“I don’t think I will.” 

I stilled. 

He was gazing over my face, taking in what was before him. A hand came up to wipe away a smudge of white paint on my collarbone. I shivered when his cold hand touched my warm skin. He lifted himself up with ease, his face inches away from mine. My cheeks were bright red, my eyes dropping to his chest and my hands fiddling with the threads of my sweater. His featherlight touch traveled from my collarbone, up to my neck and stopped at my chin, gently lifting my face to meet his. I looked up at him through my eyelashes, eyes narrowed. His lips were no longer twisted in that arrogant smirk, eyes no longer held that devilish gaze. His lips were parted in anticipation, violet eyes pining with desire. 

“Are you gonna do something or just stare.” Barely a whisper.

Within seconds his hands were gripping the back of my neck, bringing my lips to his in a hungry, desperate, burning kiss. We were wind and water, violent waves crashing against jagged rock. His hands roamed under my sweater, drinking every curve, every edge. My hands mirrored his, wrapping around his broad shoulders and then traveling down his solid chest. I couldn’t get enough of him, couldn’t get close enough despite being flush against him. He withdrew from the kiss, taking a breath, looking into my eyes, searching for hesitation. I smiled at him, don’t stop. The devilish smirk was back. His lips trailed down my jaw, my neck, my collarbone, there wasn’t an inch of me he didn’t claim. His hands held my waist so hard I knew they’d be bruised in the morning. I didn’t care, I wanted every bruise, every mark he gave me. 

What shall I be for you tonight, angel? Sadist? 

He brought his hand to the back of my head, gripping a fistful of hair and pulling back. I whimpered as he used the opportunity to leave bite marks all over my exposed neck. 

His grip softened, his lips now trailed further down and lightly kissed the hollow of my neck. 

Or shall I worship your body? 

He flipped us over, pinning my hands on either side of head. I was trapped between his strong, tattooed arms. 

I don’t care what you do to me, just never stop touching me. 

He smiled brighter than the north star. His lips brushed over my ear, “your wish is my command,” he breathed.

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

*NSFW* I'll keep you warm (Yandere!Lynx Shifter X GN!Reader)

CW: Intense temperature exposure , Yandere behavior, dub-con, dead dove, imprisonment/abduction

Inspired by @lonelyafacy 's monster suggestion ❤️

Mother Nature was a cruel and indifferent witch, unforgiving towards those foolish enough to tread her wilderness. (Reader) smacked their dying flashlight, becoming numb to the harsh winter cold through their snowsuit.

The weather had turned for the worse, changing from a snowy winter's day into a blizzard that lasted into the night, separating (Reader) from their group. Their lips were stuck together with frozen blood, and their eyes could barley stay open. The snow coming down was deceptively sharp, nicking their cheeks above the slipping scarf and turning their skin into fragile paper.

Although they pushed on, trying to use the stars amongst the flurry of white as their guide, their limbs were losing their feeling, and (Reader) was beginning to wonder if it was worth the battle. The flashlight flickered again as though it could hear their thoughts. (Reader's) knees buckled, causing them to collapse by the base of a tree. They pulled their limbs in under their body, and fell unconscious, incapable of keeping themselves awake through the cold.

Am I dead?

(Reader) smelled something cooking before they realized they felt warmth. They hadn't been anywhere near civilization, so the first semi coherent thought they had was that they had died and this was heaven. Until their muscles began twitching in pain. A large hand pressed (Reader) back into a mound of furs when they forced themselves to move. The hand was warm and strong, even through the blankets (Reader) could feel it.

"Sleep." A gravelly voice commanded.

(Reader) kept their eyes closed, face mostly buried in the cloud like bedding. "Where am I?"

"My home. I found you outside." The unknown man responded while moving around the home, floorboards creaking under his weight. "Sleep more. It'll hurt less." His sentences were short and curt, but (Reader) didn't mind. Whoever he was had saved their life, so he couldn't be too bad of a person. (Reader) fell asleep again.

After thirteen hours (Reader) woke up and was able to sit up without pain, still feeling exhausted despite sleeping for such a long time. Their stomach hurt from hunger. "Hello?" They called out for whoever had rescued them.

A giant entered into view, wearing a hood that obscured his face from (Reader). He held out a wooden bowl filled with some kind of stew. "Can you eat?"

(Reader) reached out from the blankets, immediately going into shock when they saw their own naked arms. "Where are my clothes?"

"Drying. You think I'd put you sopping wet in my bed?"

Embarrassed, (Reader) turned red, ashamed for doubting their hero for even a second. They grabbed the bowl, thanking the man quietly.

"The blizzard has gotten worse. Even I can't leave right now. Once the storm has passed I'll point you in the direction you need to go. Until then, stay warm. Heal up."

"...Thank you."

"You already said that."

"That was for the food. Thank you for saving me."

Although he had his back turned to (Reader) they could see him tense under their words. (Reader) assumed he was uncomfortable with their presence, based on how he kept his face hidden. "My name is (Reader)."

"You don't need to know my name." The man's response was almost panicked, growling as he stormed out of the room.

(Reader) was left upset over the fact that they seemed to anger their savior. He must be anti social..

They finished the bowl of stew and waited under the fur blankets, unable to take care of their dish without walking around in the nude. After some time he returned, taking the bowl without a word, his hand seemed huge in comparison to (Reader's).

"Thank you." They smiled up politely, hoping he was looking. The man shuddered again, hurrying away with the bowl. (Reader) cleared their throat. "Are my clothes dry yet?"

"Your jacket was frozen solid when I found you. It took a few hours just to thaw. Everything is still damp."

"Why were you outside in this weather?"

"I was on my way back from some last minute hunting and gathering."

"Ah, I see. Thank you. Again."

"There is no need to thank me." His body seemed to relax. (Reader) smiled, hoping that this meant they were wearing him down.

"You saved my life. I got separated from my friends and couldn't find my way in the dark. I would have died out there if it wasn't for you." (Reader) spoke as sincerely as they could. "You're my hero."

He took a deep breath. "I have... lived alone for a very long time. No one knows that I am here. I almost... left you, when I found you."

(Reader's) heart grew heavy with guilt. "I promise I won't tell anyone about you." They briefly imagined that under his cloak was a kind of Quasimodo esque being, who risked his identity to save them.

Even without seeing his face the man seemed surprised, turning to (Reader) and staring from under his hood.

"Cain."

(Reader) gave a large toothy grin. "It's nice to meet you, Cain."

They sat together in a strangely comfortable silence, before a gurgle reminded (Reader) that, unfortunately, they were still human. "Do you have a restroom?"

His relaxed demeanor stiffened again. "It is.. down the hall." He quickly handed an oversized shirt to (Reader) before turning his back for privacy, and pointes in the direction of the facilities.

(Reader) threw the shirt on without thinking too much about it, and painfully hopped to the toilet. The building was a cozy little cabin, (Reader) was just now realizing, with pictures hung up on the wall of a family. They wondered if it was Cain's family. But the need to go was stronger than their curiosity.

They collapsed onto the toilet before realizing that there was an odd smell in the bathroom. It wasn't the normal bad stench of a toiletries, but it smelled rotten.

In the corner of the room was a pile of clothes, and other than that the restroom seemed to be empty, with nothing that could be causing such a smell standing out to (Reader). (Reader) didn't want to be snoopy, but... They finished hurriedly, praying that Cain couldn't hear them, and picked up the clothing. The clothes were heavy, torn into shreds and soaked in old, dried blood. A chill ran down (Reader's) spine. Cain didn't want anyone to know he was here. He considered leaving me to die to keep that secret.

How far could I make it in just a shirt?

They left the restroom, trying their best to appear normal. The family on the walls taunted them. Did the blood belong to one of them?

Cain sat by the fire, still hiding under his cloak. Next to him was (Reader's) clothes, hung up on the back of a chair. Maybe I'm just jumping to conclusions. (Reader) sighed, placing a hand on their heart to muffle it's pounding. He still saved me.

(Reader) touched their shirt, feeling the warm dampness and was relieved, because it meant Cain hadn't been lying about that at least. "How long do you think this storm will last?"

"Hopefully just the night. It could last up to a week though."

They shivered at the thought. "Do you have a couch I can sleep on? I wouldn't want to take your bed. Again."

"You can take the bed."

"I'm really fine-"

"Take the bed."

(Reader) could feel the adrenaline shoot to the tips of their toes. "O-okay." Although there was a smile on their face, the previous comfort they felt around Cain was dead. They had trusted him so much simply because he rescued them that they had forgotten that Cain was still a stranger.

Cain grabbed (Reader's) wrist as they passed, his hand engulfing their forearm with his inhumanly large mits. The air became heavy, and (Reader) could feel their arm sweating in his strong grasp.

"Your hand smells like blood."

Frightened, (Reader) smacked at Cain with their free hand, knocking his hood back. Although his face looked only a few years older than (Reader) his shaggy hair was a light grey, and atop his head were two pointed ears, pressed back against his scalp. If it weren't for the coloration, (Reader) CO m wouldn't have noticed the ears at all with how flatly they laid against his head. Shocked, he released (Reader's) arm, giving them enough time bolt out the front door, back into the blizzard.

Snowflakes pierced their skin as they ran, and the warmth they had gained in the cabin was gone the moment they left it's protective embrace, robbed by the harsh environment. Barefoot, (Reader) ran in a random direction, not capable of rational thought. With fight, flight, or freeze, they learned in that moment what kind of person they were.

Between the clouds masking the stars and the onslaught of snow, (Reader) was left completely blind. Without any clothes it felt like their muscles were shredding in their legs. (Reader's) legs gave out much more easily than they had the first time.

(Reader) could barely hear Cain's footsteps above the roar of the wind. Through the trees a large grey monster stalked into view, walking on its hind legs like a man, it's terrifying size was more reminiscent of a bear's. It's ears were flattened, and there was an almost human like expression of disappointment on its face.

"What were you thinking, running off into the woods?" It's voice was hoarse, but it was recognizably Cain's.

As he approached his fur receded, shrinking back down into his more human form, still with animal ears, now naked in the snow. He bent over (Reader's) violently shivering form as they crumbled.

"Did you forget that there was a storm?"

(Reader's) eyes stung as they tried to cry. "Please don't kill me." They weakly pleaded.

"Why would I save you, only to kill you later?" His warm breath thawed (Reader's) cheek. "You were unconscious for a long time when I found you. I thought you were dead. Unlike myself, you needed shelter suitable for a human. So I took one. I didn't have time to clean up everything. I needed to bring back everything I had caught to begin preparing a meal for when you awoke and making it comfortable for when I would eventually make you mine, so I was hoping that you would understand. That I killed them for you."

Cain's hot tongue licked (Reader's) cheek, the juxtaposition between the extreme cold and his sudden warmth made their skin feel like it was being torn off. (Reader) gasped out in pain, too cold to scream.

"I really did almost leave you in the snow. Because what if you left? Found out what I was and told the other humans? But look at you... Were you even conscious when you begged me to save you? Or was that your body acting on its own?" Cain got onto his knees, his skin searing (Reader's) flesh. His fingers digging into their shoulders felt like flames dancing across their body. Each touch from Cain burned. It was neither comforting nor pleasant.

"Ah, but now you're nearly frozen, yet again. Do you want me to warm you up?" Everytime Cain shifted his weight above (Reader), they were exposed to the blistering wind. As the parts of them hidden under Cain's body warmed up in his unnatural heat, the more excruciating the exposure to the outside was.

Tears melted (Reader's) fragile eyes. "Please, warm me up, Cain." Their primitive need for survival made (Reader) beg like a pathetic coward.

The loving smile on Cain's face was brief, before his face began shifting, becoming the humanoid monster he was moments earlier. Dwarfing the terrified human, he ran his rough tongue across their cold body, purposely allowing their body to freeze without his touch before warming (Reader) back up. He relished in the needy whimpers escaping (Reader's) lips as they suffered in the deadly temperature. (Reader) grasped at Cain's fur, trying to pull him in to steal his heat.

Clawed paws grabbed (Reader's) thighs, pressing their knees to their head uncomfortably. (Reader's) eyes widened in horror as Cain revealed his cock, resting it across their exposed bottom. They didn't have time to protest before their body was folded into a mating press, no preparation for their tightened hole, no warning to help them relax. Cain pressed his tip to the opening, and snapped his hips into (Reader's), thrusting in his entire member without lubricant.

Cain's dick was already hot, but with the added pain of the sudden insertion it was like being fucked by an iron poker. The scream (Reader) couldn't find earlier now ripped through their throat, the sound of their agony drowned out by the howling wind.

(Reader) pushed Cain away in surprise, but immediately regretted the action when he playfully leaned back, allowing (Reader's) chest to be assaulted by the snow and hail pelting them from all sides. They pulled him back, cringing at how Cain chuckled in their ear.

He fucked them in the snow, pressing deep into their gut painfully, and humiliating (Reader) further by licking away their tears as they sobbed under his body, incapable of pushing him away. Cain could stop at any moment, but the threat of frost bite kept (Reader) latching onto him, begging him not to let go. Their desperate cries only encouraged Cain to continue teasing them, watching with glee as their skin chapped and bled without his touch.

"It hurts..." (Reader) moaned as they pulled him in deeper.

"If you keep whining like that you'll only make me cum faster." Cain threatened, biting (Reader's) neck to hold in a gasp when they tightened around him. Their knees smacked into their temples as his pace sped up, his twitching cock threatening to release deep inside (Reader).

"No! Don't cum inside me!" (Reader) blubbered into the monster's fur.

(Reader) felt a wave of heat blast inside them as Cain pumped his thick load into their raw hole. As they wept loudly Cain continued happily smacking his wet pelvis into his beloved's, just the action of fucking his seed into them turning him on again.

Cain was already planning their futures together, as (Reader) imagined their death. This wouldn't be so bad, fucking (Reader) like this; purposefully keeping them needy so they clung to him like they wanted it.

Maybe one day, (Reader) would love him in the same way as Cain loved them, and would beg Cain to make love to them, but for now, he was content fucking them like a desperate, wild animal.

Blood from the wind burns and from the tearing from rough sex stained the white white under their bodies. Cain turned back into a human so he could kiss (Reader) passionately, taste their mouth salty from their tears.

"Let's go home, (Reader)."

[eddiemunsonw]

Snow Storm

Steve Harrington x Fem!reader

Summary: You're on a 'date'. Sort of. You're really not feeling it, especially when you realize that the guy has been lying. Steve, witnessing it all during his shift at Family Video, is more than happy to meddle a little.

CW/Disclaimer: Hmmmm things start to get a little heated and sexy but nothing too dramatic. So... idk. Mention of porn?

Author's note: I have a tendency to post fics out of their season, it seems

Words: 3435

Steve’s POV

He watched as your eyes followed the section of horror movies slowly, scanning each title to try and remember if you had seen them before. Next to you, a guy stood impatiently as he eyed the curtain that separated the adult section. Steve watched with interest, as it was all that was currently happening in the store apart from a regular who looked into the slapstick classics on the other side.

“Come on, I just wanna see.”

The guy sighed, nudged you with his arm. You were having none of it and Steve couldn’t help but wear an amused smile. Eventually, when you had picked out two movies, you followed him towards the curtain. Steve, feeling particularly menacing today, quickly left the counter and approached the curtain just in time.

“Hello there! ID’s please.”

He held his hand open and you took it out immediately, showing that you were 23, a year younger than he was. When the guy handed it over with some reluctance, his curiosity piqued.

“Oof, sorry dude, can’t let you in. It’s 21+”

“What? Since when?” the guy responded, but Steve clocked something much more interesting.

“Clark… You said you were 24. Jesus this is why I never wanna say my age first,” you groaned and rolled your eyes. Steve bit down on his lip to stop himself from smiling, but it was too hard not to.

“Damn, why’d you have to lie to the lady? That’s not cool,” Steve added on.

Your POV

“You weren’t supposed to know. Now come on,” Clark mumbled and attempted to pass the curtain but Steve quickly moved in between, the smooth glide of his body grabbing your attention.

“Still a no, Bud.”

You were already tired of his pushy behavior earlier, so while Steve had him occupied, you entered the adult section. You didn’t even want to go in there, but it was better than staying.

“Grab some deepthroating! And some lesbian porn?”

Steve’s POV

Steve shook his head at him as he leaned against the wall right next to the curtain.

“Jesus, dude. Are you trying to make her run away from you even harder?”

“Shut up,” Clark grumbled, side eyeing him with annoyance.

“Hm, no,” Steve said, a small smile on his face. “Not for a pipsqueak like you.”

“Oh fuck off, says the failed jock whose daddy no longer funds him so he has to do a shitty job like this one, the highlight of his day being to be a total asshole to a guy trying to have sex with a girl.”

Steve stared ahead of him, taking a deep inhale before replying.

“Yeah. Sure. That’s a neat description of you and me both. Emphasis on the trying.”

“The day’s not over yet.”

“Oh but it is, pipsqueak. Cause you’re gonna turn around and leave now.”

They looked at each other, eyes dark and challenging. Steve wasn’t sure what came over him. He just knew that he needed to do you the favor of getting rid of him.

“The hell I am,” Clark bristled.

Steve chuckled darkly. Woah, when did he become this super villain huh? Hmm. Interesting.

“Oh you are. She wants you gone and so do I.”

“You don’t know shit about what she wants.”

“Let me go ask,” Steve said as his hand lazily slid the curtain aside. “What’s her name again?” he asked, pretending like he hadn’t checked your name on your ID. He didn’t wait for his answer and walked behind the curtain despite his protests. This, however, made him miss out on the emergency alert on the radio.

“We interrupt your favorite tunes for an important message. The blizzard is getting worse. If you haven’t yet, go home. Chances are you won’t be able to if you wait much longer.”

Clark, however, did. Besides, he wasn’t that much of an idiot. He knew he had lost his chances with you the moment he tried to get you to grab his favorite porn videos. Whatever.

Your POV

“So… see anything you like?”

His voice startled you, but at the same time it was met with relief from your end that it wasn’t Clark. Steve slowly walked closer and quickly noticed you didn’t seem interested in any of it in the slightest and chuckled.

“Or are you just planning to stay here forever until he leaves?”

You shrugged.

“Something like that. Also, you don’t just ask a lady about her favorite porn, Harrington.”

Delighted by your response, he cocked his hip against the wall as he crossed his arms with a grin.

“I mean… we both already know Clark’s…” Steve said jokingly, earning a smile from you.

“All men are the same,” you sighed. Steve pouted and scanned the titles for something interesting.

“You say that now but… wait until you find out that my favorite is actually… Granny getting a— nope, nope, forget I started that sentence,” Steve said quickly as he put back the tape he just had in his hands.

“All the grannies over the world are crying right now,” you said sadly, a smile on your lips.

“Too bad, I’ve set my eye on girls who actually are the age they say they are.”

“I’ll admit that’s the most interesting belated opening line I’ve ever heard,” you said dryly.

“As long as it catches your intrigue, I’m satisfied,” Steve said with a playful, cocky grin.

You grabbed a tape and smirked, holding it out for him.

“So I’m guessing you don’t need yourself a… Satisfyer 2.0, then?” You asked, holding up the tape which had sensual “instructions” for a vibrator.

Steve laughed and shook his head.

“These satisfy just fine,” Steve said, holding up his hands. Your mind drifted off to what he could do with those big hands. Not just to himself but to—

“… left?”

Steve had apparently just asked you a question.

“Huh?”

He smirked and nodded towards the curtain.

“I think he left. Just heard the bell above the door.”

“Maybe someone came in though…” you wondered out loud.

“Maybe. I’ll go check.” He spun on his heel and approached the curtain when—

“Wait—” It was out before you knew it. Steve halted, turned back around and looked at you patiently.

“Yeah?”

“If he is in fact not gone, can you… get rid of him somehow? I normally wouldn’t ask but he’s just such a—”

“Dick.”

“Yeah…” You smiled a small smile and watched as he approached you again. His eyes were on you, taking in even the smallest changes in your expression.

“So is he like… your boyfriend?” Steve asked softly. “Or uh, was?”

You chuckled and shook your head.

“Nah, this was the second date which I had reluctantly agreed to.”

“Why’d you say yes?” Steve asked curiously. He followed your movement as you skimmed some more tapes and smiled at the playfully quipped corner of your mouth. “I mean, it didn’t look like you wanted to be here.”

“I didn’t. I just… I kind of never said yes but he just showed up on my doorstep and then I felt too bad to not go with him, so… yeah. Didn’t know he had plans to rent some porn and spend the second date in his bedroom or whatever.”

Steve crossed his arms and nodded thoughtfully.

“Hmmh… yeah that sucks. Well, I’ll make sure there won’t be a next time,” he said as he shortly winked at you and once again turned on his heel, this time actually continuing his walk through the curtain. He was out there for a few minutes when he turned back with a frown.

“Uh… Y/N? We’ve got a little… hiccup.”

You approached him with a frown of your own and followed him to the front, unsure what to expect. What you certainly didn’t expect, was to see a snow storm going on outside.

“Apparently there’s a code red. Just heard a repeat of it on the radio but it keeps breaking up. They urge everyone to stay inside until it’s over.”

Steve stuffed his hands into his pockets and stared ahead. It was the worst storm he had ever witnessed and the fact that nothing had seemed to be going on apart from some gentle snowfall surprised him.

“Stay… here?” you asked eventually.

“I mean, yeah? You can’t drive in this weather, it’s too dangerous. So is walking. So…”

“But I can’t just…”

“Hey, I don’t bite,” Steve said softly, nudging your arm with his own. “Besides, Clark seems to have left after all. Maybe he heard the warning and decided to bolt? If so, very nice to let us know as well but I will say that I wasn’t nice to him, so…”

You smirked.

“What did you say to him?”

“Nothing, nothing. I mean, genuinely, I didn’t say much. Just that he had to fuck off, using different wording. He didn’t seem all that ready to leave when I went to look for you though.”

“Oh well, good riddance.”

“Agreed.”

Steve walked forward and locked the door, putting the closed sign up front just in case.

“Let’s go to the back, it’s warmer there. And there’s a coffee machine.”

And so your “Stuck at Family Video with heartthrob Steve Harrington” began.

Once you were settled around the table in the break room, Steve gave you an odd glance. It was hard to figure out what he meant by it, although his frown disappeared the moment he got up from his chair.

“Coffee? Tea? I think we even got a few of those instant hot choc packages,” he offered, his back already turned to you as he searched the cabinets.

“Oh, hot chocolate sounds nice actually. Is it just me or is it… still kinda cold, even here?” you asked hesitantly. Steve nodded ruefully and grabbed two mugs from the cabinet he was currently facing.

“Ah, yeah… it looks like the heating is struggling again. I could kick it to see if it helps but… chances are it’ll get worse.”

“How could it get worse?”

Steve shrugged.

“Beats me, but I’m speaking from experience. Sometimes it does the trick and other times it really, really doesn’t.”

“Let’s not risk it then. At least we have a warm drink, right?”

Steve nodded and grabbed the kettle. You watched him busy himself with putting it on, emptying the hot chocolate powder and grabbing two spoons. He was humming along softly to whichever song he seemed to have stuck in his head and shot you a smile when he caught you looking.

“So what do you usually—”

Suddenly, the room turned pitch dark. You heard Steve swear softly when he shuffled back towards the table and bumped into a chair.

“Uh… okay. That’s… kind of a problem,” he mumbled as he managed to sit back down. “No hot choc I guess, sorry. No… heating either. Maybe we should check how the weather’s doing?” he opted.

“Yeah, sure.”

There was a small strip of light seeping in from the doorway, slowly turning brighter as you adjusted to your surroundings again. Warm fingers teased your arm before your wrist was grabbed and Steve helped you up. As he opened the door, the brightness of the snow outside was almost blinding. The thin windows made it a lot colder at the front, making you shiver as you watched the outside. It wasn’t just snow anymore, as heavy hail rained down, large enough to leave dents into cars. Steve groaned and let go of your wrist.

“Let me check if I can get the power back on,” he mumbled, more to himself than to you. He grabbed a flashlight from below the counter and went to the back again. After a few minutes, he returned, looking apologetic.

“Sorry, nothing. I guess it’s my fault you’re stuck here, huh?” he sighed. “If I hadn’t bothered Clark as much you’d be on your way already. Or if I just… I don’t know. Sorry, I guess.”

“It’s not your fault the weather decided to fuck us over, Steve,” you said with a soft smile which he returned with some hesitance. “What do you usually do for fun around here?”

Steve gave you a wry smile.

“Watch movies?”

“Ah, yeah.”

There was a short silence until Steve clapped in his hands and rubbed them together. “I’ve got this huge blanket in the back, brought it here once because Rob, Robin, my colleague, gets very cold easily so sometimes we’d just huddle under the blanket during breaks and stuff. I think we might as well sit out here, at least it’s light… for now.”

You nodded, smiling as you thought of Robin Buckley. You knew her of course. Not super well, but well enough to know she was nice.

“Yeah, it’s already getting dark, huh? A blanket sounds good though.”

Steve nodded and once again disappeared for a short moment, until he returned with a bright blue blanket, which he partially draped on the floor in front of the counter before he motioned for you to sit down and wrapped it around your shoulders. He joined you after grabbing you both some water and put the other end around his shoulders once he settled down.

“How’s this?”

You were really trying not to let it get to you that you were cozying up to Steve right now. Heat was radiating off of him and it made you wonder if he was actually cold, or if he was basically doing the whole “it’s better to stick together for body warmth” kind of thing. With the addition of clothes, of course.

“It’s nice. Better than without for sure,” you told him softly. Steve’s shoulder brushed yours and soon enough you felt the pressure build up until he was actually resting against you. Not in an uncomfortable way at all. It was really… nice, actually.

“Your parents? Do you think they’ll worry?”

“Ah, no. My mom’s visiting my grandma in another state actually and my dad’s no longer around, so. Doubt he can worry,” you joked lightly. “What about yours?”

Steve snorted, then realized it probably wasn’t all that funny and shrugged.

“Dunno, they’re somewhere in Europe now, I think? So no.”

Another silence. It was by that point that you remembered how little you actually knew about Steve Harrington. Sure, he had been popular in school for some time, and then he wasn’t, and then he graduated. But you had never really talked to him other than giving him a pen or two in English class. You were from different social ladders, really. Although, right now you felt quite equal to him, somehow. Which felt weird, considering he looked like a freshly cut out of a painting model and you were… you. Mr handsome decided to steal you away from your brain, which honestly, was a good thing.

“Hey, wanna play a game?” he asked, peering into your eyes as he leaned forward a little. You watched him with newfound curiosity.

“What kind of game?”

“I spy with my little eye.”

“Isn’t that just called “I spy”?” you wondered aloud.

“Dunno. So. Yes?”

“What else is there, right?”

Steve grinned and rested his head against the counter.

“That’s right. Okay. I spy with my little eye… something green.”

“That tape,” you said as you pointed. Steve leaned into your space, following your hand.

“Which one?”

“The green one.”

“There are maaaany green ones.”

“The green one with… Fuck I can’t read,” you sighed as you tried to squint. Steve laughed warmly, which you could feel the tremble of against your shoulder. “Okay so. The sci-fi shelf, yes? Fifth on the second row.”

“Aaaah, I see it now. Nope!”

“You knew that wasn’t it from the start.”

“I had to make sure.”

“Mhm, sure.”

Steve grinned and nudged you with his shoulder before tapping your thigh with his hand.

“Your turn, your turn!”

He left his hand on your thigh. Oh shit. Yeah, you were totally normal about that. You could still think. You could definitely still find some kind of object that you could use—

“Wait, I didn’t even guess it, how is it my turn?!” you questioned. Steve, who had been looking at… somewhere that wasn’t your eyes, quickly lifted his eyes to meet yours and grinned.

“Right. Guess!” “Your vest?”

“You are absolutely right. See? Your turn.”

“It wasn’t— okay. Hm… I spy with my little eye… something red.”

“Your cheeks.”

“Shut up, my cheeks aren’t red.”

“They are a little.”

“If you keep talking about it, yes, they will turn red.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

Once again Steve leaned forward to look you straight in the eye, this time lifting a hand to cup your cheek gently. “Hm, they’re a little pink at the very least.”

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks and took his hand off your cheek as you looked away. Steve chuckled softly and turned his hand around so he could grab yours.

“Fine, then… the bike outside?”

“Nope.”

“Damn, I thought that was it for sure. That red blob of paint that Keith never managed to get off the ceiling?”

“That’s it!”

Steve grinned at you and gave your hand a squeeze. For a moment you had forgotten about his hand, too drunk on his animated face. Fuck.

“I spy with my little eye…” Steve turned his head to look at you and smiled. “Something pretty.”

“What?”

“Purple! Purple.”

“My shirt.”

“So clever.”

It was getting darker rapidly and soon enough, even your little game became harder to play. You did some other ones, word games, guessing games, whatever you could think of. The blanket was wrapped closer around you both now, as the store became colder without the heating. You sat hip to hip, your arms a little awkward sometimes although neither of you really minded.

“Would you have stayed here if I hadn’t been around?” you asked softly.

“Hmm, nah, I don’t think so.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t really care if— I mean, I’d only be risking myself in that case.”

“That’s a bad reason. You’re just as important.”

“Am I?” Steve asked, and for some reason you felt like he needed an honest answer.

“Yeah, you are, Steve.”

“Hm…” A beat of silence. “I spy with my little eye… someone pretty.”

“You can’t even see.”

“I’ve memorized her by now.”

“Is it the blonde babe cardboard cutout?”

Steve, not expecting that answer at all, burst out laughing.

“Fuck, no,” a giggle, “it wasn’t.”

“Oh… hm. What about that girl from the ring? Samara?”

“Shush.”

“Or the woman from that movie where—” “Ssshh.”

You felt his hand cup your cheek and it was as if your heart was gonna jump out of your chest at any moment now. His breath tickled your cheek, warm and comfortable against your cold nose. Your lips parted on their own, eyes closing even though there was only an outline of his face to see.

“You sure it’s not the blond babe?” you murmured teasingly.

Steve giggled softly and shook his head, causing the stray strands of his hair to tickle you a little.

“Positive.”

A faint sound of lips being licked, and then his lips brushed against yours. Soft and pliable, eager to taste yours. He hummed softly, pleased, as he pulled you closer. You were easily pulled into his lap as his tongue teased your bottom lip for access. Hands smoothed up and down your waist, the blanket forgotten as your kiss provided enough heat between the two of you. It was silent, save from the gasps and soft, pleasant hums leaving you both. He gently moved his hips while simultaneously guiding yours, a gentle moan leaving him as he found a rhythm. His lips found your neck and your hand made its way into his hair to have something to grasp onto. One hand found the hem of your shirt and he was about to lift it up when—

Brightness. Light. The electricity was back on. Meaning… everyone outside could see you. If there had been anyone, that is. Still, it broke the moment instantly as Steve dropped his hand to your thigh and looked up at you.

“Shit,” he murmured, a lopsided grin on his face. “They really know how to spoil the fun today, huh?”

You smiled down at him and turned around to look outside, one hand resting on his chest for balance.

“Hm… I don’t know. It seems safe to go back home.”

Steve dug his fingers into your hips with eagerness before leaving a soft kiss on your lips.

“Your place or mine?”

end.

If you enjoyed reading this, please know that comments and reblogs are highly appreciated :) Likes are lovely but sadly do nothing to spread the fics around! Help your favorite writers (not saying me - in general) out like that so you can continue to enjoy consuming the free work they put out, it's a win-win.

[anjelicawrites]

Hello! May I request a pvert!michael gavey x reader being roommates and their power goes out during a winter storm so they have to share the bed for warmth and things gets pretty steamy in the shared bed... thank you!

Hi nonnie! This came out far longer than what I thought it would be! I hope you like it!

NSFW and 18+ only under the cut!

Warnings: reference to Michael x the agoraphobic girl, kissing, scratching, fingerfucking, p in v sex, dry humping, Michael being a bit darkish at the end.

The start of your second year in Oxford had been horrendous, from having to switch from your college to another, while all your friends remained there, to having been moved where that asshole Michael Gavey lives.

You should have nothing against the guy, you two have more things in common than almost all of your peers, yet you find him the personification of everything that irks you: the flaunting of his, admittedly, brilliant mind, his superiority complex and his complete disregard for social norms. His reasons for not liking you are a complete mystery.

You two try as hard as possible not to cross paths with one another, luckily enough your two degrees have just one class in common and you don't study in the library he goes to, preferring to walk a bit further and be with your friends. Even in the common room, you and Michael have managed to not to stumble upon one another, synchronizing your schedules so that, whenever one is using the room, the other is somewhere else.

Obviously the universe has to play another one of its sick tricks and disrupt the, fragile, harmony of your life, in the form of: the worst snow storm of the past ten years, the power going out and you struck in the college with him. Everyone is out for the weekend, but you and Michael, having both to study for a mid - semester test for the only class you two share.

You know he has no friends, not since Oliver Quick decided that hanging out with Felix Catton and his people was far more entertaining than the ramblings of a math nerd and you feel like Michael has dodged a bullet there, you don't know why. You are on your own because all your friends are on a week - end trip to London; you would have been there with them, if only the professor hadn't decided to be a bastard and move up the test date.

Your chagrin notwithstanding, you had a plan, which consisted of: sealing yourself in your room, heating turned to the max and study all day so you could watch some telly the night, or read one of the new books you bought and didn't have the chance to open, yet. A splendid plan indeed, which worked perfectly on Friday and is crushed on Sunday, when the electricity stops working, all of a sudden, with a pop.

You lift your head, almost giving yourself a whiplash, when the lights go out, all of a sudden and you can't hear MTV in the background anymore.

"What the hell?"

Uselessly you try the switch on the small lamp on your table and try to turn on your laptop: everything is dead. With a curse, you wrap your fleece night gown around yourself, and venture in the hall, where you discover that all the lights are off. You lock the door behind you, not wanting to disperse the warmth accumulated, in case the heating dies as well, and venture to the common room which is, predictably, dark.

"Look what the cat dragged in."

Comes from behind you and you jump around with a scream, hand clutching the robe. That fucking creep Gavey! There's some sort of power outrage and, of course, he's the only one around!

"Fuck you!" You pant, your heart is beating like a drum in your chest. "The feeling is mutual." He responds, his usual disdain in his voice.

Why in the name of all is holy does he hate you so?

You two stand in the dark, like two imbeciles, eyes locked, neither of you wants to be the one to ask the predictable question.

"Is someone else here with us?" You cave, in the end, sick and tired already of the whole situation.

Gavey stares at you, if possible, with even more contempt in his blue eyes.

"Afraid of being alone with me?" "No, you utter cretin. I was simply wondering if there's other students in the same predicament we are, or if the person in charge is around." "Everyone else is out and I haven't seen Mr. Collins."

You curse inwardly. As much as you don't like Michael, you two need help and are not going to find it in the common room.

"Let's go." Gavey turns his back at you. "Maybe he's in his office."

Begrudgingly, you follow him. You don't have that many hopes to find the man, it's too late, but maybe he's still around, because of the snow.

The light from the windows dwindles, forcing you and Michael to navigate the corridors and stairs carefully, until you two stand in front of Mr. Collin's office, the door locked.

You feel like banging your head against the wood, and you'd do it, if Michael weren't around.

"We need to contact him. Let him know of what's going on." You say, dejected. "Do you still have the information package given to you when you moved here?" "Yes, sure. Don't tell me smartest nerd of his cohort lost his!"

There's disdain in your voice but, hey! Not once he's ever been nice to you, why should you?

"Mine is in the drawer of my desk, in my room, on the last floor. Do you truly want to walk there in complete darkness?"

You're glad there's almost no light, or he'll see the embarrassed expression on your face: how is it, that you always manage to pass for a dimwit when you're in his presence?

"How do you know where my room is?" "You said it yourself. Smartest of his cohort. Now, shall we go?"

You want to punch him, you should punch him, maybe sheer, brute force will make him stop treating you like an imbecile.

"Since you know where I live, I hope you can make your way in this darkness. I am not waiting for you."

On purpose you slam your shoulder against him when you walk down the hall: you can't stand him and why are you struck in whatever this is with him?

You two walk in silence, fingers brushing against the paneling on the walls to keep a steady course, feet treading carefully on the stairs as you two descend in the creepy silence of the deserted college.

You have to try a couple of times, before you manage to open the locked door, the warmth, still trapped in the room runs a shiver down your back: you hadn't notice how cold the building is. Luckily enough there's isn't many trees outside your side of the building and the light can stream through your windows, helping to illuminate your room and the snowy, lunar landscape outside.

You head towards the bookcase near your desk, you're pretty sure you've stashed the college information booklet with all the random bits and bobs in the box on the top of the bookcase. You have to grab the chair to hoist yourself up and go to your tip toes, since the cardboard has been pushed all the way back.

"What a nice burrow you've made for yourself."

Again, Michael's voice makes you jump out of your skin and almost fall off your precarious perch. With one hand around the box, you turn to see that creep walk leisurely around your small room, his fingers touching gently your possessions; he scoffs at the fairy lights you've hanged on the wall behind your bed and he has the gall to open the wooden box where you keep all your different teas and take a sniff! You're torn between surprise and rage at the way Michael feels entitled to touch your belongings, it's like he's leaving a stain everywhere his hands touch.

"You made yourself home." He says, with that note of pity and contempt he seems to reserve for you and you only. "This is my home, Gavey." You retort. "Yes, I have noticed. Mirrors your...personality."

It's the way he says it that makes your blood boil. Yes, you like to have stuffed animals and pretty pillows on your bed! You have your small breakfast nook and use it during the weekends, when you don't have to rush to class! And yes, you are the kind of basic bitch who loves fairy light and cute animal gadgets! What is wrong with that?

"If you don't like it here, you're free to climb up your tower and contact Mr. Collins on your own!"

This seems to sober him, you reckon he doesn't want to face the chill and the pitch black of the corridors.

"Have you find it?" There's still contempt in his voice, at least he's stopped touching your belongings!

You don't answer, you simply jump down from the chair, booklet in hand.

Your mobile phone sits on the desk. In the sea of bullshit that today has been, at least the battery of your Nokia is still full and the light of the screen is bright enough to illuminate the booklet. Michael stands by your side as the two of you are bending over the desk, busy with finding the phone number you two need, maybe he's too close to you, but you don't notice it, worried as you are by the whole situation.

Mr. Collins answers the phone and is of no help.

"The blizzard damaged the power lines." He says over the terrible connection, his voice fills your room. "They're working on the issue but there's no saying how long it's going to take!" "We can't just sit in the dark for days!" You say, trying not to sound too panicked. "Not days, love." Mr. Collins tried to soothe you. "Probably the whole night. Do you have enough blankets and a duvet?" "What for?"

You and Michael stare dumbly at one another, then a terrible realization hits the two of you.

"The heating system is electronically controlled. With the power down, the furnace stops working for security reasons."

You want to scream. Mr. Collins sounds so calm and controlled, probably sitting at home, heating on, while you're struck in your room, which will become unbearably cold during the night. Michael curses.

"Who's with you, love?" "Michael Gavey. We're the only two people in the building." He answers. "Look after one another, my boy." Mr. Collins says. "The furnace has already shut down but it will take a while for the heath to dissolve completely. You two should be fine, as long as you keep your doors closed and use all the blankets you have."

When the conversation ends, you turn your head to look at Michael, who is hovering over you, even with his back partially bent over the table, one hand planted next to your phone. Being so engrossed with the problem at hand, you just realize how much in your personal space Michael is and, is he smelling your hair?

"What?" He asks and looks genuinely surprised at your cross expression.

You take a deep breath. The poor lad, as off putting as he is, is in this sinking ship with you and you are a grown ass person who doesn't take their frustrations on another person. Michael was probably standing too close to you, but you two have bigger issues to face.

"Nothing. I simply hate all of this." "Me too."

Yes, he's definitely invaded you space, but he looks miserable in his too thin jumper and this situation is not something neither of you know how to handle. As Mr. Collins said, you two should look after one another.

"Do you have enough blankets?" You ask. "I have my duvet. Why?"

You are not surprised: the guy carries his stuff around in a crumpled Tesco bag, he probably doesn't care about buying pretty things for the sake of it, like you do.

"I was thinking about how cold it's going to become in a few hours. Are you going to be all right up there?"

You can't read Michael's expression in the dark room, the moonlight streaming through your windows has panted a mask on his face.

"I should be." He shrugs. "Warm air travels upwards." "Are you sure?" "The laws of physics don't change."

If he's trying to be a smart ass, he's failing. He looks awkward, standing with his arms down his body and the striped pants he's wearing, harmless and absolutely incapable of looking after himself. He's probably as worried as you are, but he's not letting you see it, you two are not friends and you two have to navigate this problem alone, no adult in sight to take the reins.

"Help me Michael." You say.

You know you're going to regret what you are about to propose, but you are not an asshole, not even towards him: the power outrage is far more important that you two not liking one another for whatever stupid reasons.

You grab the chair and put it near the wardrobe, before hoisting yourself up to grab the box you keep there.

"What are you doing?" He sounds surprised "Just take this!"

The box is heavy, your arms tremble with the effort to keep it over your head, while you turn around. With a huff you give it to Michael, who has to take a couple of steps back when he realizes how big the thing is.

"What do you keep here? Stones? The bodies of your enemies?"

Jesus Christ, you think, he doesn't know how to crack a joke to save his life!

You don't answer and direct him to put the cardboard box on the bed, where you proceed to open it, before starting pulling out all the blankets you've stored there.

Michael stares at you with genuine surprise on his face, not that you're looking at him, engrossed in emptying the box before you two die of hypothermia.

"You do like to be cozy!"

There it is again, the judging tone. You should kick him out of your room for it.

"Michael, don't make me regret the offer I am about to make." "Which is?"

Again, the moonlight doesn't offer enough light to read his face and he's standing too close to you for comfort, but you tell yourself he's socially inept and there's little else you two can do now.

"Let's share the bed. We can put all the blankets on and wait until the power comes back."

He stays silent for such a stretch of time that you don't know what to think.

"Did you make this?"

His fingers curl around the first crochet blanket you ever made. The thing looks crooked and it's not a perfect rectangle, but it was the first piece you ever finished on your own.

"I've picked up knitting and crocheting last year." Why do you feel like you have to justify yourself? "It's a grandma hobby" "At least I have blankets. Do you want to go freeze in your room?"

Michael doesn't answer and starts spreading your collection of throws and quilts on the bed.

"It's still a grandma hobby." He reiterates. "At least I have a hobby. What do you do in your spare time?" "Read books about maths." "I might be a grandma but you are boring." "Mathematics is not boring!" "I said you are." "At least I don't have the same hobbies my nan has." "That's rich coming from the guy who dresses like his grandfather!"

You two finish preparing the bed bathed by a dense silence. Why does he have to be an asshole all the times? You've extended your hand to him and he has the balls to shame you for what you like to do in your spare time! You hate when intelligent people act like they're entitled to be rude. You are not MENSA material the way he is, but you are brilliant and are always nice to everyone, even to him! He should, at least, do the same! Not touching your things without your permission and not even say that he's sorry! Instead, he is laying in your bed, warm and cozy, under the covers you've made with your 'Grandma hobby'. He's such an asshole and you hate that, of all the people in your college you are in this mess with him!

The bed is not made for two people to share, which means you two have to lie closer than what you'd like, good, because you two can share body warmth, bad because it feels strangely intimate. You've had your sexual experiences, a couple of times you've woken up in a stranger's bed, fuzzy on the details of how you've managed to get yourself there, none of the experiences ever felt as weird as trying to fall asleep with your back to Michael, who is attempting to arrange his long limbs in order not to touch you.

With all his moving, Michael is driving you insane and has already kicked you by mistake in the shins.

"Are you done?" All the pity you felt for him has already flown out of the window. "I can't find a good position." "Me neither! But I'm not squirming like a pinned worm!" "Well then, I was trying to avoid this!" He stops moving about, letting his legs fall against yours and one arm attached to your side. "Happy now?"

He sounds exasperated.

"At least I can try to sleep!" You answer, already done with him: this is the last time you are nice towards him, from tomorrow he gets treated like the asshole he is, power outrage be damned!

It's the cold that awakens you that, and the raging erection against your arse.

You don't know what time it is, having left your mobile phone on the table after the call with Mr. Collins. It's probably the middle of the night and whatever issue the blizzard has caused, hasn't been resolved yet.

"What the hell, Gavey?!?"

You kick him in the attempt to distance yourself from his cock and he wakes startled.

"What happened?" He stares owlishly at you, his glasses folded on the bedside table. "Check your pants, that's what happened!"

He doesn't move for a second and then simply readjust his position to keep his hips away from you.

"Not my fault." "You can, at least, say you're sorry!" "What for? I don't control my dick!" "Oh bollocks! You should say you're sorry anyway! I didn't want to wake with your cock against my arse!" "You got your panties in a bunch when I was trying to find a good position! Now you're angry because I have an erection. Check your priorities and this would have happened with anyone, by the way!" "As if you've ever slept with thousands of people!" "I've slept with more girls that you did!" "Somehow I doubt it!"

Oh, the look of surprise in his face is worth being awake, in the cold, because of his cock. Not to brag, but you've had your experiences with girls as well, since you've enrolled into Oxford. You're still unsure if you like boys more, but you're pretty certain your body count is far higher than his.

"You should do something about it."

He sounds angry now, why? Gone is the surprise on his features, replaced by a darkness that makes you distance from him.

"What do you mean?" "If my hard on is such an issue, you should do something about it."

OK, you think, what is happening all of a sudden?

"Go do something yourself!" Despite the cold you can feel burning embarrassment spread all over your body. "I'm not the one fussing about it." His big hand curls around your wrist to tug at it. "You are. It's only logical that you do something about it."

You lie frozen on the spot. You would have never expected the night to evolve this way, for your act of generosity to become this.

"What are you going to do, Gavey? Force me?"

You try to put on a brave front, knowing full well that you could never stop him if he decides to take advantage of you; he's scrawny, but stronger than you are.

"No. You'll just have to fall asleep with my hard cock next to your arse. Not that I am complaining."

The slap resonates in the silent room, your hand stings where it connected with his cheek.

"You're a pig, Gavey!" "Hit me all you want." He responds calmly, turning his head to face you. "It doesn't change that you're the one embarrassed, not me." "You have no shame, haven't you?" "I didn't decide to wake up with an hard on, I'm simply not making a tragedy out of it, like you are!" "I'm not!" "Then why are you playing the shy virgin? Haven't you slept with more people than I did?" "You wish I slept with you." You retort.

He eyes you trying to assess your curves hidden by the layers of fleece you're wearing and then scoffs.

"Don't get your hopes up. There's plenty of hotter people out there." "But you want me to wank you." "Only because me having an erection offends you. With that gone you can stop clutching your pearls." "Oh, now you're in for it, Gavey!" You Grab him by his horrid jumper to pull him closer to you. "Stop painting me like some sort of blushing prude!" "Make me." He says.

In the darkness you can't see how enlarged his pupils are, but you can feel his cock swell when his hands pull your hips closer to his.

You know you should let all of this go, laugh in his face, perhaps, and then try to sleep, but you've never been able to refuse a dare, never in your life you had ever backed down from a fight, you're not going to start now, not with him involved!

You crash your lips against his, kissing him aggressively and he responds with equal ferocity, one hand in your hair to keep your face slanted against his. He bites down your lower lip and you moan, hips kicking against his erection, while his tongue invades your mouth, possessive in his attempt to make you submit.

You're not letting him have all the control, not when you can curl one leg around the side of his hip to ground your cunt against his erection, forcing him to cease his attack, his head turning to the side, a long whine escaping his pretty lips. Why do the assholes have the loveliest mouth and eyelashes?

You turn him on his back, your hips working his, your cunt sliding against his trapped erection: you want him to come into his pants, you want to punish him for being such an asshole. Shame him, even!

You pin him on the bed, your hands on his shoulder so you can ground faster against him, your cunt wet and safe in your pants as he moans and tries to buckle under you, his torso tries to arch when you get the angle perfectly and reduce him to his baser instincts, to his rough cock trapped under layers of clothes, the pain of it sliding against the cotton of his briefs and the pleasure curling at the base of his spine.

He doesn't want to let go like this, like a schoolboy, but you've put all your weight on his hips and are grounding and grounding against his cock, your lower lip trapped between your teeth doesn't stop your whines when his head bumps against your clit, your pleasure becomes his and he comes in his briefs, panting and moaning, small whines of overstimulation when you don't stop moving. But your whole weight is not on his hips anymore, and that's your mistake.

His mind is still hazy, the pleasure you've subjected him to is like a cloud, but he's not going to have a better chance at getting the upper hand than now that you are breathless and moving lazily over him.

Like manacles, his hands curl on the meat of your hips and he turns you on your back and uses his legs to keep your nice and spread, his fingers slide inside under your panties to find your cunt.

"Let's see what we have here." His voice is still laced with the pleasure you've given him but holds an edge that makes you shiver. "You're drenched." "Says the pot to the kettle."

Two of his long fingers in your cunt erase any more smart comments on your part, his thumb on your clit has you moan and and arch under him. He's found that spot easily and bullies it mercilessly, the same way you did his trapped cock: you're going to come for him and then he's going to fuck you the way you deserve.

You grab at him, your nails scratching down his jumper, high pitched squeals of pleasure leave your open mouth, you look at him desperate, small tears gather at the corner of your eyes as his fingers fuck you faster and force your walls to accept their invasion, and he moans at the thought of your muscles wounding around his cock, sucking him in, strangling him.

"Michael!" You beg, your legs tremble, hips pumping fast to follow his punishing rhythm. "Come, now!"

You don't know what breaks you, his fingers or his thumb on your swollen clit, or maybe the command in his voice, the knot in your belly snaps and you come with a shout, back arched to the point of pain, eyes closed that don't see his dark expression.

You're trying to catch your breath, eyes still closed when you feel Michael's fingers at the hem of your pants as he tries to undress you.

"I'm too tired." You slur. "I'm not." One of his hands takes yours and puts it on his erection. "I'm not done with you."

Reflexively your fingers curl around his manhood, your brain truly realizing how well endowed he is.

"Do you have a permit for that?"

High on endorphins you has a terrible sense of humor, not that he cares, he wants your cunt, not your brain.

"I just need a condom." "Bedside table. Small box."

Michael stares at you, spread out and already fucked out on the bed, how beautiful and tempting you are, he only wishes he could see you naked, lick your skin and bite every inch of your body, until you beg him to stop, suck on your tits until they're bruised and your nipples over sensitive. Eat your cunt until you pass out and wake you up with his cock fucking you. He has to curl his hand around his base, or he'll come in his pants, again and he doesn't want to waste his erection like that, he wants you to milk him for all he's worth.

You're staring at him under your eyelashes, who would have thought that math nerd extraordinaire Michael Gavey could give you an orgasm that made your legs tremble?

He's pretty, you realize as you observe him bathed by moonlight while he rummages through the contents of your bedside table, long fingers and a shapely nose, a truly breathtaking chiseled face; if only his personality were better, he could have all the girls fawning over him!

"Oh Christ!"

You realize you've said it out loud when he smirks with one hand at the base of his impressive cock: he's going to split you in two.

"Pull your pants down." "I'm cold." You whine. "Bloody hell what a pain you are!"

He hasn't undressed, he has just pulled his trousers and underwear down enough to free his straining cock, you do the same and shiver: whatever heath the furnace had maintained, is now gone. You're grateful when he pulls the covers over your bodies, after he's made his way between your spread legs.

"Go slow, please?" His impressive manhood truly scares you, you've never had something that big inside of you.

He regards you with an unreadable expression. Part of him wants to punish you for the way you had made him come, but he wants you to enjoy what he's about to do or he'll never get a chance at doing this ever again, if he's hurt you.

"I will, relax."

He tries to use a gentle tone with you, something that doesn't come easy to him, the trust he sees in your eyes makes him want to make fun of you like he always does, but his cock is pulsating in his hand, it hurts and strains towards your wet cunt. Nice and slow, he needs to go nice and slow.

You whine when his broad head pushes inside your drenched hole, your hands instinctively go to his chest to push him away and he stops, letting you adjust to his size before he starts pushing in, short movements that open you up slowly with squelching sounds and moans of pleasure.

You sound better than any porn he's ever watched, all desperate, as if he's hurting you, your whines go to his cock, your muscles apply the perfect amount of pressure and he almost topples over the edge. He has to stop midway to breath and concentrate, a difficult task with your sinful hips moving slowly against him, your hole truly tries to suck him in, the way he had imagined. You want him as badly as he wants you and that excites him beyond belief.

He's so thick it feels like he's splitting you in two, yet your cunt hungers for him, your muscles clench around his him and you have to relax, let him open you up to his invasion, mold your cunt to accept his cock, feel every nerve spark with pleasure as he enters you and every inch of his manhood slides against your walls.

You arch your back when he bottoms out, his hips flush against yours as your last brain cell marvels at the way your hole has sucked him in completely: you're so full and stretched like never before that you'd purr, if you could.

A long whine escapes your lips when he bends forward to cage you with his arms, his eyes observing every small expression dancing on your features, the pleasure he sees only enhancing his desire.

His first pushes are short and slow, he testes your reaction and almost chokes on his tongue when your hips start following his, your muscles curling around his erection.

"Faster Michael, please!"

Your fingers find the skin of his back, your nails rake down his spine, the small pain spurring him on to fuck you with deeper and faster pushes, his lips hovering over yours, as he drinks down all the delicious sounds you are making, your cunt a squelching mess around his cock. He just needs to adjust his aim and he finds your g-spot, your whines make him bully it with faster pushes that have you squirm under him, your legs curling impossibly tight around his hips, his cock forcing your muscles to open, to take it like the whore you are, his whore.

You've lost control of your body, the only thing you feel is his massive cock in your cunt, pushing against your g-spot and his thumb on your abused clit, both movements fast and unforgiving as you try to beg for mercy, for pleasure, deaf to his words of praise and degradation, to him demeaning you for needing his cock, for liking the way he's fucking you. Nothing else matters but the pleasure burning through your nerves, but the coil in your belly that's curling and curling, until everything goes white and you come, the hold of your cunt so tight that Michael follows you with three deep pushes and a moan.

Michael is tired and wired up at the same time. His body is wasted, yet he can't fall asleep the way you did, all curled up against him, trusting and cute, with your hair around your head like an halo and one hand in his. Fucking the agoraphobic girl had been a great way to learn how to pleasure someone, if he has to go by the all the delicious sounds you made, sounds he wants to hear again and again, until whatever hold you have on him disappears. He knows he is not in love, he is not hardwired for that, but feels this unspeakable attraction towards you, this need to possess and consume you to his heart's content; the power outrage and him challenging you the chances he couldn't waste to slip through your walls and use your good heart and your pride to get to your cunt: you have been so easy to read from the moment he had started studying you like he would a mathematical problem. Now the real issue is to find a way to make this arrangement last, love or not, he's hooked on you and he's not going to let go, not until he's sated and can stop thinking about you and imagining you while he's having a wank: you've been the star of his spank bank from the first time he's seen you, despite your sunny disposition towards the word, the very thing that irks him. Michael knows he needs you out of his system in order to ignore you the way he does all his peers, having you as many times as he needs the only solution to the problem at hand. And you will, he'll make sure of that.

[wintersoldiersoul]

hey dear ❤️ I maybe thought of an imagine with Bucky where you're on a mission in the mountains but due to the weather you need to stay in a little cabin for the night but it's terribly cold. He lights a fire but then he offers you his sweater. You're both getting closer (you have a crush as well on each other), so you kinda forget about the mission and just enjoy the time together as you also share a meaningful kiss?

Keep Me Warm

A/N: I changed up the timeline of this a tiny bit but the main idea is still there! I hope you enjoy!!

The mission had been long and grueling. You and Bucky have spent nearly a week in the mountains trying to take down the enemy. You were exhausted, both physically and mentally. Finally, you had gotten the call that you could come home. You were so excited to be back home in the compound, sleeping in your own comfy bed.

“Excited to go home, Y/N?” Bucky asked. 

You rubbed your hands together, trying to keep warm while you waited for the jet. “Can’t wait. I’m looking forward to a nice hot shower and sleeping in my bed.”

He smiled. There was no better thing in the world than him smiling. You tried to keep your crush on him at bay, knowing he’d never feel the same way about you, but damn was it hard. His blue eyes were so mesmerizing and his smile could wake a goddamn army. He was just so perfect.

You smiled back, hoping that he assumed that the blush on your cheeks was from the cold and not from him.

His phone rang and he answered, hoping it would be an update on how far the jet was. “Hey Steve,” Bucky said into the device. “Shit, really? Yeah, yeah, that’s fine,” he sighed. “Yup. I’ll check back when we’re there. Bye.” He hung up and looked at you. “Bad news. There’s a bad storm coming and the jet can’t fly. We’re gonna have to stay here another night.”

“Fuckk,” you threw your head back in frustration. You had spent the entire mission hiding in safe house to safe house, all of them in secluded areas where you couldn’t be found. Sometimes if you were lucky, you got to stay in nicer places with actual beds and furniture. But due to the sensitive nature of this mission, that hadn't been the case. The thought of spending another night in one of those places nearly made you cry. 

“Good news is that Steve said there’s a cabin not too far. It’s still nothing fancy, but he said its an upgrade to what we’ve been in. We should be safe now that we’ve, you know, taken down the enemy,” he smiled warmly, trying to get you to stay positive. 

“Oh, that's good,” you responded. “Let’s go, then.” 

The two of you had to trudge through the snow to get there. The walk ended up being nearly 2 hours and you couldn’t feel your body by the time you arrived. The cabin was small, with only one bedroom, a living room, a small kitchen, and a bathroom.

“Shit, you’re shivering,” Bucky noted when you got inside.

“Yeah, how are you not?” 

He shrugged. “It’s the serum. I’m still cold, don’t get me wrong, but it makes it a lot harder for me to be cold. Even in freezing weather.”

“Must be n-nice,” you mumbled through chattering teeth. “I get cold so easily. Any time it’s below 50 degrees I can’t f-feel my t-toes.”

“Go take a hot shower, okay? I’ll try to see if there’s any food I can make for us.” 

You nodded, going to the bathroom to take a shower. You took your time, rejoicing in the hot water as you washed all of the dirt off of your skin. When you got out, you rummaged through your bag trying to find a sweatshirt but it seemed to have disappeared. “Fuck,” you whispered. You must have left it at the last safe house. You threw on a t-shirt and sweats, still shivering as you made your way into the kitchen.

“Is the heat on?” You asked Bucky.

“I think it’s broken. I was playing around with it but it doesn’t seem to be doing anything.”

You rubbed your hands over your arms, trying to get warm. “Shit, I think I left my sweatshirt at the last safe house.” 

 “Doll, you’re gonna freeze,” he said sympathetically. “Here.” In one fell-swoop he ripped off the gray cable knit sweater that he had on. “I just put it on when we got here so it’s clean.”

“Buck, I don’t want you to be cold, though,” you protested, despite how cozy the sweater looked. 

He swatted a hand. “Remember, I don’t get too cold. Don’t worry about me. You’re gonna turn into an ice block soon.”

You smiled, graciously. “Thanks.” You pulled the sweater over your head, immediately enthralled by his scent. The fabric smelled like musky vanilla and pine, the scent that you had come to associate with him. It smelled like home. 

“I was able to find some soup,” he said, holding out a bowl for you. “Maybe it will help warm you up.” 

“Thank you, Buck.” You sat down and began to eat.

“Lemme see if I can get a fire started,” he got up and walked over to the fireplace. You watched him as he threw wood into a pile, entranced by his muscles flexing each time he picked up another piece. Between the serum, the metal arm, and the fact that he was just so in shape, he did it all with ease, not even flinching at the weight. How could you not fall for the guy just a little bit? 

“You alright over there?” He smirked at you, noticing your eyes on him.

Shit, get it together, Y/N, you thought. “Oh, sorry, just zoning out,” you tried to cover. 

Within a few minutes, he had a roaring fire emanating heat throughout the room. But it still wasn’t enough to keep you warm over by the table you were still sitting at. 

“Come over here,” he encouraged. “It's nice and warm by the fire.”

You stood up and made your way over to the couch so that you could feel the heat of the fire better. “Oh, that’s nice,” you hummed, feeling the embers warming your body. Bucky crept up beside you sitting down and rubbing his flesh arm over yours.

“You’re fucking freezing. I can feel how cold you are through the sweater,” he whispered. He was so close to you. “Lemme hold you. Warm you up a bit.”

“Um,” you cleared your throat, heart rate speeding up. “O-okay. Yeah, sure.” 

He laughed quietly before pulling you so you were laying back against him. “Damn, I feel bad that you’re so cold,” he said, voice holding sympathy and care.

“It’s not your fault, Buck. You’re already doing a lot to try to help.”

The next words he said were something you never thought you’d hear. “Maybe I should never let you go. Just keep holding you like this forever.”

“What?” Did you hear him right? Did he really just say that? He laughed lightly. “Would you like that?”

“Bucky, I-um…” you felt so flustered. Was he just messing with you?

“Come on, Doll,” he smiled. “I don’t know how much more obvious I can make it that I’m kinda in love with you. And I think…” he said, putting his mouth close to your ear. “You might feel the same way about me.”

“Bucky,” you whispered, the feeling of him speaking into your ear sending chills through your body. 

“If I’m reading it totally wrong that’s okay. But I can’t hide how I feel anymore, Y/N. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. I couldn’t even talk to you for like 3 months because I got so flustered around you. Then we did start talking and I found out that you were also the most interesting, intelligent, kind person I’ve ever met. So tell me, please. Do you feel the same way?”

Your heart pounded. How was this happening? “Yes, Bucky. I-I feel the same way.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Can you turn around so I can kiss you?”

You quickly flipped your body so you were lying on him, face to face. He pulled your mouth to his, quickly inserting his tongue into your mouth. It was so much better than you had imagined, and you had spent a lot of time fantasizing about kissing him. 

“Y/N,” he said, resting his forehead against yours. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that.” He ran his hand up and down your back as he spoke. “You’re so amazing.”

“I’ve been dreaming about that for a while too, Buck,” you laughed, enjoying his embrace. “You know,” you spoke, voice in a teasing tone. “There’s only one bed in here. We might have to put it to good use.”

Within a second, Bucky picked you up and carried you to the bedroom.

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Harmony

Mizu x Y/N - drabble - 886 WC

Masterlist

Warnings: blood, injury, mention of breasts but not in a sexual sense, healer reader, kissing, he and she used for Mizu, pretty fluffy tbh

-------------------------

“Lovely aren’t they?” you said to the mysterious man next to you in the secluded forest by your cottage. He nodded slightly, not responding verbally. You picked a smaller branch off the tree, a few soft pink cherry blossoms were scattered on it. You lifted the branch to your nose, breathing in the sweet smell of the flowers. You walked over to the man, placing the branch between the fold of his haori. You heard him suck in a sharp breath. You finally saw his face as he looked up to meet your gaze. He was strikingly beautiful. Sharp cheekbones, full lips, a button nose pink from the snow chill. But above all, his eyes. Your eyes widened slightly, never having seen such a shade in person. “Like the sea after a storm.” you whispered, not even realizing your hand had gone to gently hold his cheek. You felt him lean into your touch, sighing with content. He hadn’t been held in a while. The man started to slump against you, you heard him groan, his hand going to hold his side. You saw blood seeping through the blue cloth. You gasped, putting his arm around your shoulder and pulling him towards your house. Just as you crossed the threshold, he fell to his knees before falling unconscious. You pulled him towards the warm fire pit before pulling his glasses off and his haori open. You saw bandages wrapped around his chest, the gash led under the bandages so you quickly unwrapped them. Your eyes widened as you saw the samurai with two breasts. You shook your head, grabbing your stitching kit from your healers cabinet. You stitched her but didn’t rewrap her before pulling a blanket over her. You pulled her katana and glasses off so she could rest comfortably, setting it next to her so she wouldn’t panic when she woke. 

You sat nearby, making tea and soba before stitching her haori up where something had slashed through it. You looked over to the samurai every once and a while, admiring them while also checking to see if they were comfortable. You sat and drank tea next to them when the stitching was done. A small huff left the samurai, causing you to look at them. Their face shifted slightly, a look of pain or fear scrunching their brows. Their body twitched randomly. She was running or fighting something in her dream. You put your tea down moving to sit next to her face; you smoothed your thumb over her cheekbones, hoping to calm her. You hummed a calming tune as your repeated this over and over. Her hand moved up to hold yours against her cheek yet she remained asleep. 

“The most beautiful samurai…” you whispered. You stayed with her, holding her hand.

When the samurai woke, it was the dead of night. She shot up but instantly laid back down as the gash across her chest screamed at her for the sudden movement. You quickly made your way to her side. She instinctively scooted away from you. You held your hands up, showing you meant no harm. You passed her a loose shall to cover up with and not disturb her stitches. She pulled it on quickly. 

“You can tell no one you have seen me. Is that understood?” she said in a gruff voice. 

“Of course.” you said bowing your head, “Eat, drink, sleep. Regain some strength before you leave.” You got up and set down the tea and soba next to her before getting your own and eating across from her. “Eat. It’ll help you heal and keep the chill at bay.” 

Mizu ate quickly, observing you the whole time. The faintest tattoo on your wrist caught her eye. It looked like a mirror.

“An old legend. Your face is that of the one you loved most in your past life.” you said, “The mirror reminds me to love myself, for I loved this face once… more than anything.”  you said with a soft smile.

Mizu looked down, who could have possibly loved her face? Nobody. Perhaps she was a mere demon. She felt a gentle hand caress her cheek, tilting her chin up.

“I can see why one would love your face so much. Fire and water live within you. Such harmony is rare.” you smiled. 

Mizu didn’t know why but she kissed the back of your hand. You had been nothing but kind, she didn’t know how to return it but this felt right. You blushed deeply, lifting her hand closer to your face and kissing the inside of her palm.

“It doesn’t bother you?” she asked softly.

“What?” you asked, rubbing your thumb over the inside of her hand in soothing patterns. “That you’re a woman? The heart cares not for such fickle things, only that it is loved.” you replied, smiling in a way that brought a warmth to Mizu that she hadn’t felt in years. 

She sat up as best she could, pulling you to her so she could kiss you gingerly. Almost questioning her own actions. You kissed her back gently, soothing a thumb over her cheek bone to reassure her. She grew more confident, kissing you over and over again, chasing the warmth she felt when with you despite you being a stranger.

------------------------

Naboo's Note:

Hello! Three fics in one day?! Who is this Naboo? Lol had this one sitting for a while and decided why not finish it. I hope ya'll enjoy and would love some recs for her character. Thank you, talk soon! XOXOXOXOXOXO

[fruity-mega-coconut69]

Back In Your Arms Again {pt. II}

[pairings]: Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

[summary]:Tara sighs and closes her eyes, trying to keep her  tears in as her lips tremble. Why did I even think she’d wanna talk about it?stupid.

[warnings]: my writing, but other than that nothing else

You, Zhanna, Andrei and Bao are sitting in their kitchen, having dinner and talking about random stuff until Andrei speaks up -as he was pretty quiet until now-. “So, Y/N..” He starts and all of you turn to him. You cock your head to the side, awaiting his question. “Are you… or are you not moving in with us? Cause like, you taking your sweet time deciding and it has been a while so you must’ve made a decision by now.” Andrei raises his eyebrows while looking at you as he puts down his fork.

“Well, I mean I already told you guys that I don’t wanna be a burden and I’d rather suffer with……….Tara” You swallow thickly while avoiding Zhanna’s gaze.

“OH come on!” She exclaims. “You  can’t be serious! That bitch doesn't deserve you, not even your presence!” Zhanna huffs angrily while looking at you.

Bao sighs and places a hand on Zhanna’s forearm. “Babe,  calm down. She didn’t say she forgave her, she said she’s willing to share a dorm with her. Not the same thing.” She tries explaining to Zhanna who’s still glaring at you. Zhanna just huffs again and looks away from you, deciding to glare at the table instead.

“Yeah, Z. And if I really can’t tolerate it anymore, I’ll come here. First thing” You try reassuring her to which she responds with only another huff and a turn to the side. You shake your head softly while sighing deeply before getting up. “Speaking of… I need to get back. By this hour she’s probably asleep which gives me enough ‘me’ time in the dorm.” Andrei raises his eyebrows at your statement to which you only react with a roll of your eyes before going around and hugging everyone then saying goodbye before walking out to the streets.

Although it’s only November, the streets of New York City are covered in snow. The snow that's currently crunching underneath your boots as you walk.

After a good 20 minute walk, you found yourself back on campus and walking to the dorms. Once you’re at your door, you stop and stomp a little to get rid of the remaining amount of snow on your boots before hesitantly opening the door. As you step in, you see -to your dismay- Tara by her desk. You suck in a deep breath and that’s when she looks up.

“Y/N. Hi. Where’ve you been?” She asks, turning to you as the orange light of Tara’s desk lamp illuminates on her face.

You blink once. Twice. And three times before answering her while turning to take off your winter coat and boots.

“I don’t see how that’s your concern and business.” You bluntly blurt out, walking over to your wardrobe and taking out your pajamas.

Tara huffs and bites her lip. “Why not?” But, oh, she knows all too well why not. But, nevertheless she still asks, which results in you turning to glare at her before storming into  the bathroom. Tara watches with sad eyes, biting her lip before shaking her head and looking back down at her book.

About half an hour later, you return from the bathroom and sit down on your bed while drying your hair with a towel. You stared at the back of Tara’s chair for a while before speaking up. “ Did ….Chad come around today?” You say his name almost like it’s a disease. One that can not be cured. A virus that can not be killed.  

Tara pauses her reading for a moment before looking up at you. “No. He didn’t”

You wouldn’t admit it out loud, but that kind of relieved you. You let out a small ‘hum’ of acknowledgement.  Tara looks at you a minute longer before looking back down at her book. The atmosphere is awkward. The tension can be cut with a knife as silence falls upon the two of you.

The silence only lasts about 3 minutes before Tara speaks up.”So, I know we have a lot to talk abo-” Before she can finish her sentence you cut her off.

“Night, Carpenter.” And with that statement you turn off the lamp on your bedside table and lay down.

Tara sighs and closes her eyes, trying to keep her  tears in as her lips tremble.

Why did I even think she’d wanna talk about it?

stupid.

Tara thinks to herself before swallowing thickly and letting out a shaky sigh. Her head turns to the direction of your -now- sleeping form. You have always been fast to fall asleep. Her eyes scan your body before shaking her head and looking away as she gets a text. She looks down at her phone.

Chad 😊💕

-hey, Tar. You up?

Tara sighs and hesitates before texting back. 

Tara 🤭

-yes. why?

Chad 😊💕

-wanna meet up? 😎😉

Tara feels her jaw clench as she looks at the screen. Ever since you’ve been living in the dorm, she’s seen Chad less and less. She knew why. He knew why. Even you knew why. And Chad is still trying to save what’s worth saving. And..maybe Tara should, too. But she just couldn’t bring herself to. Not when you’re a part of her life again. She’s not gonna let go this time. She’s gonna keep holding you until she physically can’t anymore.

Tara 🤭

-no. sry. Have to study for midterms.

Chad 😊💕

-okay.  that’s fine.

But then again, are you going to try coming back to her again? Do you still think about her when you’re alone? Do you still think about that night?

Cause she does. And even Chad can’t bring her mind to peace about it. How could he? He wasn’t even there, nor does he care enough.

A/N: again, it has been a while which I'M sorry for. also this is really short but since you guys wanted a part 2 (me too), here it is.

[wifeofsnowbaird]

You Can't, You Can't Catch me Now I'm coming like storm into your town

Part 1/Part 2/Part 3/rest on Masterlist

[Mentor!Coriolanus Snow x time-travel, thg-era, tribute!reader x toxic!Finnick Odair (in the Peacekeeper era)]

Warning: gore, blood, gun and knife violence, serious injury, death, physical assult, possibly non-con...as I said, maybe...

Summary: You are a rebel, the last chance of the rebellion against President Snow. You're told to go on one last mission to kill the man who massacred Panem. It took you years to understand your mission when you became [name] Lily Baird, starting from the age of five till before the reaping day of the 10th Hunger Games.

The day you began your plan to destroy President Snow before he became the villain he was meant to become.

'Both sisters, Lucy Gray and [Name] Lily Baird are a part of the Covey, and though they have been chosen as tribute for both District 12 and 9 because of our own mistakes, we hope they will stay safe.'

You knew about [Name] Lily Baird, named after her because your mother was inspired by her fiery personality and strength, but now you realize that you were transported to a time before the Baird sisters died, one of sickness and one because of Coriolanus Snow himself.

'I will kill you, President Coriolanus Snow.'

Coriolanus stood beside his cousin, lost in his train of thought. Tigris paused to question him about his tribute since he had mentored her during the day before noticing a scratch on his face.

‘Coryo! Why haven’t you put a bandaid onto that cut?’

Coriolanus glanced at Tigris before gazing at the scratch on his hand.

He was sure that the scar on his face was worse than his hand but he abandoned the thought of covering it because…Well, what if [Name] Lily Baird had attacked him because she liked him? He had seen her red face multiple times and she always ended up extending her claws like a cat.

‘They’re her marks on my skin.’ Coriolanus shrugged, glancing back at Tigris as she stood by the stove lost in shock. She grimaced as he gently smiled at the thought and walked to the dining table where Grandma’am sat.

The old woman glanced at him before settling down and calling a maid to hand her the scarf.

Grandma’am has always been stuck in a world before the Civil War between the Capital and the Districts so Coriolanus intervened through the elder woman's anger at a non-existent person and went to fetch it from another room.

Tigris sighed, gazing back at the boiling cabbage in a hot pan in front. Her mind kept on sliding back to her cousin’s answer about why his tribute kept on attacking him.

‘ Her marks on my skin? Well, isn’t he delusional…’ Tigris mumbled before going back to the hot pan on the stove.

‘Sejanus,’ the boy beside Coriolanus looked up at the blonde near him. 

‘Yeah? You need something?’

‘Does [Name] Lily attack the other tributes like she does to me?’

Sejanus stopped chewing midway through the sandwich Ma had made.

‘No, she’s nice once you meet her the second time. I saw her with Dill, Wovey, and Reaper once and she was teaching them about how to tell the difference between certain seeds for some reason.’ He shrugged. ‘Apparently, Wovey and Dill were interested…Why though?’

Sejanus then glanced at the scars Coriolanus had received from his tribute and frowned, having heard about what happened yesterday. Tigris had told him about it when he had stopped by their penthouse.

‘So…I’m the only one? I’m special to her?’

Clemensia Dovecote, one of his acquaintances since they weren’t close, interrupted the conversation before Sejanus could respond.

‘Listen, Coryo, don’t get caught up in your delusions. She hates you, I’m sure about that.’

Coriolanus scoffed at the girl in front of him before grinning at you while you were being dragged by a Peacekeeper.

He stepped towards you, ignoring his friends' comments, and wrapped a hand around your waist but was pushed away.

‘Get off me!’ You sneered before stomping away in an angry fit.

Coriolanus glanced back at his friends but ignored them once they shook their heads, mentally telling him that, ‘they told him so.’  But unfortunately, he had lost himself to you.

At least to his future First Lady of Panem.

One sentence kept repeating in his head while he was following you,

‘I’m her only, she made me claim her as mine.’

And without sensing the slight possessiveness coming from your mentor, you glared at the arrogant boy who was meant to keep you safe.

‘Really wish I could destroy you now, Coriolanus Snow.’

next chapter is gonna be Sej x Lucy Gray sooooo be warned ig?

[imtrashraccoon]

It's here! I don't have a name for these series of connected prompts just yet but I'm sure I'll think of one! I was originally going to write the characters doing more in this chapter but it didn't work out. Still, I'm happy with this narrative I'm creating. By the way, I am planning on posting this to AO3 like all my other works if you want to check it out!

@owl-bones Please let me know if you don't want me to tag you for each prompt. Thanks for making the list!

Next Day.

Bad Sansuary: Horror - Hot Drinks

Word Count: 2,914

It was a dreary day today, yet despite the overcast sky and brisk breeze that often whipped snow into your face, it was the nicest it had been in days. You'd practically gone stir crazy after a freak snow storm had blown in several days ago and so now you were getting some much needed fresh air.

It had been an incredibly spontaneous decision to come out to this barely traveled trail. You'd been meaning to check out the area for ages but had been too busy in the fall. While your winter gear was generally enough to keep you warm on most days, it seemed like you should've worn an extra layer or two with how chilly it was out here in the woods in comparison to the city.

Regardless, you were moving at a steady enough pace to keep your blood pumping. So long as you weren't out here for longer than a few hours and got home before it got dark, you should be alright.

The walk had been every bit as beautiful as you'd expected it to be. While the forest was mostly made up of deciduous trees, you were now walking through a large grove of mature cedar trees, which just so happened to be your favorite type of conifers. The dense shrubbery served to insulate this part of the trail from both the wind and the sounds of the wild, not to mention that they smelled lovely as well.

The path made a sharp turn to the left up ahead, although right in front of you was a natural gap in the treeline, possibly made by animals as they passed through this grove. Feeling a tad curious, you ducked under the branches and emerged in a small clearing on the other side.

The clearing seemed to be natural as you couldn't see any signs of tree cutting, even with all the snow. It was framed on all sides by cedar trees whose boughs were blanketed in a thick layer of the white powder. It was strange though. You couldn't see anything that looked special about this little clearing and yet it was so peaceful here.

You'd only walked a few paces into the open space when you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

Something was very wrong.

Some sort of primal instinct deep inside your soul screamed for you to duck and your body responded without even thinking about it.

You heard the unmistakable sound of an object whizzing through the air where you'd been standing moments prior.

You barely had time to register what happened before someone roughly grasped your shoulder and flung you into the snow.

You landed hard on your right side. The cold snow stung your face. There was pressure on your abdomen.

It took a moment for you to catch your breath. When you did though, you shifted slightly to see what had just attacked you, but as soon as you did so, the pressure on your side increased sharply.

A low rumbling growl was the only warning you got to stay put.

Now your mind was racing. This wasn't a random animal and no human could possibly sound like that. So could it be a monster? They'd been on the surface for a couple years now and were pretty commonplace in the city. In fact, you didn't know of any that would willingly choose to live out in the middle of nowhere after being trapped underground for centuries.

"Uh... H-hey, can...can we talk about this...?" Your voice came out much hoarser than you'd expected it to but you didn't know what else you could do right now.

Nothing happened for what felt like ages. You continued to stay as still as you possibly could, save for the pounding of your heart and how badly you were trembling. The snow was cold and your clothes were rapidly becoming soaked, but you barely registered it.

Your attacker suddenly shifted their body and the pressure on your abdomen eased, although it didn't go away entirely.

You chanced turning your head in their direction this time, rather than trying to move your entire body.

Your gaze immediately locked onto a singular glowing red eyelight. It belonged to a hulking figure of a skeleton monster who was currently pinning you to the ground. The eyelight itself took up almost the entirety of his socket and there was a thin line through the center, likely acting as a pupil. The only other details you could make out from this angle was that he was breathing rather heavily and he had a large hole on the top of the left side of his skull.

You didn't dare break eye contact for fear the monster would lash out suddenly if you did so. Whether it was how blown out his single pinprick looked or the tight smile that seemed much too wide for the current situation, but you could tell something was very wrong him right now.

Taking a shaky breath, you tried to speak to the skeleton again. "H-hey... Big guy... Are you...? Is something wrong?" you asked. Although to your frustration, your tongue betrayed how nervous you really were right now.

He said nothing and just continued to stare down at you, or maybe through you was more accurate. If looks could kill, you'd be dead at least a hundred times over.

For whatever reason, he wasn't actively restraining your arms, just preventing you from getting up. So against your better judgement, you slowly raised your left hand and reached for his face. Although you quickly discovered he was at least several inches out of range and you couldn't actually touch him.

His eyelight tracked your movements and seemed to focus on your outstretched fingers. He still said nothing though and just sat in silence.

"It's okay... Did I startle you earlier?" Your voice was becoming stronger the more you spoke and while you were still rather nervous, you were feeling a bit more confident than before.

He seemed to be acting pretty distant. The lights were on, pun unintended, but nobody was home. So what had stopped him from actually hurting you earlier? The only thing you could think of was when you tried to talk to him and since it seemed to be having a positive effect, you decided to keep doing that.

"Hey... Um, you scared me pretty bad, you know...?" No response. "But it's okay! I'm... I'm not mad or anything..."

People said you tended to ramble when nervous but you'd never believed them until now. Not that you'd been in many life or death situations before now to know, or at least none where talking your way out had been an option.

"Okay... I'm not going to hurt you, but... I'm going to try doing something." With a nervous chuckle, you added, "Just...don't take my hand off, okay...?"

You waited a moment to see if he'd try to respond but shocker, he still didn't react. So against your better judgement, you attempted to sit up so you could reach him. You moved slowly while keeping a close eye on him, but thankfully, he didn't show any signs of further aggression.

He startled when your mittened hand met the right side of his face. His red eyelight wobbled and flicked between your outstretched hand and your face. The corners of his painfully wide smile fell a fraction as he seemed to properly take in the current situation.

"Ah, that's better," you murmured. "You seemed far away so I was wondering if you could actually hear me. Are you...? Are you okay?"

He said nothing and continued to stare at you. Then his gaze flicked back to your hand and his bonebrows furrowed slightly. Before you could protest, he grasped your wrist and with some hesitation, jerked it away.

Crap... His hand is like twice the size of mine.

He let go of you and managed to stand up, staggering away from you. Complete shock was practically written across his skull and you could see how desperately his mind was scrambling to make sense of this awkward situation.

Although your muscles were a bit numb from the cold, you slowly crawled to your feet and attempted to dust yourself off. Although the snow had completely soaked through your pants and coat so your efforts were futile.

"..."

The mysterious skeleton muttered something that was so quiet, you almost didn't realize he'd said anything in the first place.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that..."

He blinked, somehow, and actually made eye contact with you this time before trying again. "...sorry..."

His tone was about as deep as you'd expected a guy of his size to sound, although it was also rather subdued. You couldn't be sure if that was just how he spoke or if he was feeling ashamed about what had just happened.

Speaking of his height though, this monster was much taller than you'd initially thought. He was easily more than a foot taller than you were, even with the way he was purposely hunching his shoulders. Was he trying to make himself look smaller?

"It's alright, you didn't actually hurt me," you responded.

He gave you a strange look but didn't say anything else, instead he started looking around in the snow.

Feeling rather awkward, you chewed your lower lip and kicked a small clump of snow. He didn't seem like much of a conversationalist and you didn't blame him right now.

After a moment of searching, he seemed to find what he'd been looking for a couple paces ahead and to the left of where you were currently standing - a large axe with a rather sharp blade. The way it was stuck in the snow suggested he'd actually hurled it at you and the thought of how close your brush with death had really been, sent chills down your spine.

But, if he had intended to kill you from the beginning, how come he'd hesitated to follow through?

You watched as he hefted the axe onto his shoulder with minimal effort. There was one more question on your mind now though.

Who was he?

Taking a step forward, you cleared your throat to get his attention. "Do you need me to call someone?"

He straightened up a bit more but remained facing away from you. "...no."

You frowned and pressed again, "Then...do you live nearby? Do you need help getting home?"

"...no," he responded in that same quiet tone. He turned to look at you again but this time his expression seemed more perplexed than anything.

You didn't know what to say next. You wanted to do something, anything, to help him, but he'd denied each of your attempts to do so. You couldn't just walk away now, not when he was so clearly struggling with something.

"what's with you?"

His question was a bit surprising and it took a second for you to come up with an answer. "You're hurting... I just want to make sure you'll be okay..."

He threw his skull back and laughed. It was a slow, bitter sounding laugh that nearly broke your heart to hear. After what felt like several long minutes, his laughter finally calmed down and he fixed you with a scrutinizing look once again.

"i just about killed ya."

You nodded solemnly, "But you didn't..."

He cut you off with a harsh glare. "and you're incredibly lucky right now..." he growled. "...i'm a dangerous person and you're pretty foolish for stickin' around this long."

You crossed your arms in annoyance. "Yeah, I guess I am foolish..." you huffed. "I don't know how to leave people be, I'm too nice for my own good, and I can't say no to people even if I really don't want to do what they ask me to. So yeah, I know I'm foolish!"

He raised a bonebrow as your voice got louder and louder but let you keep ranting until you'd gotten everything out. Running his free hand over his skull, he chuckled quietly. "wow...sounds like you've had a lot of experience, huh?"

"No kidding..." you muttered.

His footsteps crunched through the snow as he moved closer and you looked up at him again when he stopped about a foot away. He seemed to size you up for a moment before his permanent grin widened slightly.

"you're a funny human..."

You balked and took a step back. "Wha...? What's that supposed to mean?" you stammered.

He chuckled again and placed his free hand on your left shoulder. His touch was much gentler this time, even with the tips of his phalanges being rather sharp like claws.

"just that. ya got spunk to look at a guy like me an' think 'i can help him'." He hummed thoughtfully and then asked, "so how'd ya do it?"

"Do what?"

"shake me out of it..." He trailed off and a confused frown flickered across his face for a moment. "you were talkin' but i don't remember what you said until you touched me..."

"I don't understand. I didn't do anything more than that though. I just... You seemed...like you were somewhere else and not fully aware of what was happening? I guess I thought that maybe physical contact might help?"

"huh, interestin'..." he murmured thoughtfully. "so you've never heard of intent?"

You frowned slightly. The way he'd specifically put emphasis on that word made you think it meant something different than what you'd initially thought. "I can't say I have," you said with a shrug.

He started to respond when a sudden gust of wind blew through the small clearing and caused you to shudder as the cold air went right through your soaked clothing. You clutched your coat closer and stamped your feet in an effort to warm up.

Changing the subject, he made a quiet tisk sound and commented, "you'll catch your death if ya stay out here much longer, human."

A little voice in the back of your head wanted to retort that you wouldn't be this cold if it weren't for him, but that would be cruel, so you didn't. Instead, you gave a little laugh and tried to smile, but it wasn't exactly easy with how badly your teeth were chattering.

"Um, my car's not that far from here and before I left the house this morning I made a thermos of hot coffee... If you'd like some...?"

He laughed, much more genuinely this time by the way, and shook his skull. "crazy human... do ya have no self-preservation instincts or somethin' ?" he asked in a tone that practically screamed "ya can't be serious?".

You nodded, "Compared to some men I've met, you've been downright pleasant to make conversation with." Turning to head back to the trail, you added, "It's probably a good thing you took me by surprise though, because I definitely would've tried to fight you if I'd seen you coming."

"you'd definitely be dead then," he muttered bitterly.

You chose not to continue this morbid train of thought and walked on in silence. It was a bit surprising that he'd decided to actually take you up on your offer, considering he'd rejected every other one, but you didn't mind in the slightest.

After a few minutes of travel, you asked, "Do you have a name?"

He made a low humming sound before answering. "axe..." He grinned when you shot him a confused look and nodded his skull towards the weapon he had slung over his shoulder.

"I see... It's kind of...fitting? If I can say that?"

"mhm. what about you?"

"Oh! How rude of me... It's..." you gave him your name, "Sorry, I guess I completely forgot my manners in the heat of the moment..." You rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly.

Axe repeated your name out loud a few times like he was trying to commit it to memory. You paid him no mind as you knew all too well how annoying it was to forget someone's name. You didn't think you'd ever forget his though, not with how crazy today had been.

You caught him typing something into his phone out of the corner of your eye before he slipped it back into the pocket of his shorts again. He really hadn't needed to borrow your phone afterall it seemed.

"i am sorry for scarin' ya that badly...and for nearly killin' ya too," Axe muttered. He looked rather sheepish all of the sudden, like his previous apology wasn't nearly good enough now that you'd talked a little.

You waved him off and smiled warmly. "Hey, it's fine now. I'm not mad at you for something you couldn't help."

"i'm surprised you're not askin' more questions about me or why that happened in the first place..."

"Do you want to tell me?"

He shook his skull silently and glanced away.

"That's fine then... If you're gonna be okay now, then that's all I care about."

You hummed happily as your little car came into view at the side of the road where you'd parked it earlier. That coffee sounded absolutely divine right about now and you were so glad you'd decided to make it. Thank your lucky stars you'd thought ahead today.

Your companion had grown rather silent all of the sudden and when you glanced at him, you saw his bonebrows seemed to be knit together in deep thought. While you definitely were curious about him and where he came from, you didn't want to pry into something that wasn't your business.

Besides, the less you knew, the better...

[horny4hetfield]

Snow Way to Escape

I originally posted this a while ago, but I think I screwed it up. So, here's a re-write that has become the prologue to several other fics that are in the wings. I hope you enjoy it!!

Warnings:  Angst, Sex Suggested

Why did I ever fall for this man?!  Is he talented?  Yes.  Is he good looking?  Damn yes.  Is he great in bed?  Fuck yes.  Is he being a dick?  All holy hells yes.  Has been since he got home from the road.  Am I regretting moving to his place in Colorado?  Right now.  Yes.  His last dig at me has me packing my carry on and putting my computer into my backpack while wiping away the tears I swore I wouldn’t shed.  I can walk away from everything I can’t fit into these two bags.  I looked over at the smart home device for the time.  It’s 3pm.  The notification bar was flashing yellow.  “Computer, what’s the notification?”  The robotic voice responds, “For the Vail Colorado area, the National Weather Service has issued the following weather warning.  A severe winter storm is forecast to begin snowing heavily at 2pm local time with heavy snow levels accumulating to 3 to 4 feet, drifting 6 to 8 feet.”  The rest of the warning went unheard as I grabbed my two bags, the note I’d written, and ran to the front door.  I dropped the bags on the floor, still clutching the note, as I saw my plans end.  Opening the front door I slowly walk outside into the dark, the snow had already been falling.  Big fat fluffy flakes so thick I could barely see the light at the end of the driveway.  Looking over to the garage door, “No, no no no, no!”  The drift was already a good 2 feet tall.  For a split second I thought about taking his damned truck.  It would easily clear that drift.

“What the hell are you doing?” James yelled from the open front door, looking between me and the bags on the floor.

Taking one last glance at the pile of snow blocking the garage door, I turn back to the house, “Well, I was going to leave you.”  I slapped my note into his chest.  Pushing past him, I collected my bags and slowly made my way back to the room that I had claimed as my own a week before.

“What the fuck!?” James yelled just before slamming the front door closed.

I kept walking dejectedly.  Making it back to the room, I tossed the backpack onto the bed and just stood there clutching the carry on.  I could hear James come storming down the stairs.  “What the fuck?  You are leaving me?”  I turned.  His usually glacier blue eyes now a threatening dark blue filled with rage.

“Well, mother nature said no” as I motioned to the now very dark window.  “Not tonight anyway.”

I heard the paper flutter to the floor.  “Why?”  The pain in his voice was natural, not forced.  It pinched my heart.

I turned to him but couldn’t look him in the eye.  “What was the one thing I asked of you when we started dating?”  He just stood there.  Then I did look at his face.  He was obviously thinking.  “I asked you to not compare me to the exes.”  He nodded slowly.  “I am not them and the exes are not me” I raged at him.  The rage fading from his eyes.  “But ever since you got home from the tour, you have been … well …”

“A dick” he finished my sentence.

“Yes” I snapped.  I put the carryon I was still holding on the bed.  “You have done nothing but compare me to them for months.”  I turned back to him, “The final straw was when you started counting your cash.”  His eyebrows knitted together.  “Every night before you go to bed, you count the cash in your pocket, put it in your wallet which you put on your nightstand.  Then in the morning after you shower and get dressed, you count it again.”  His fingers twitched as he processed what I said.  “I don’t need your money.”  He just looked at me.  “I have my own career and my own bank account.”  He continued to stare at me.  “I could have taken your damned $90 thousand dollar truck and left you the Shelby that I paid $125 thousand for.”  He cocked his head but didn’t ask.  I answered anyway.  “Taking your truck I would have gotten pulled over by your state trooper friends in a heartbeat.  That would be a felony.  And you would have no say if I got arrested or not.”  I turned away from him shaking slightly.  “Right now, you are not worth a felony on my record.”  I moved to the desk and sank into the chair.

He looked around the room.  The realization hit him, “When did your stuff get down here?”

I huffed a smile, “James, I moved down here a week ago.”  He looked at me.  “You didn’t notice that I wasn’t sleeping in your bed?”

His hands kinda flapped uselessly, “I thought you were coming to bed after me and getting up before…”

“Thanks for noticing” I said sorta like Eeyore.

His eyebrows knitted together again, “But the sheets got changed.”

“Yes they did” I just looked up at him.

“And the kitchen … the dishes … the laundry …”

“The grocery shopping, collecting the mail, dusting” I looked down at my hands. 

“Why?”

“Who else was gonna do it?” I dug back at him.  “It’s not like you’d do any of those things.”  He huffed a moment but didn’t say anything.  “I wanted to hire a cleaning team, but you went almost mental on me about that.”

“I don’t want someone just rummaging through my shit” he flared.

“I understand that” I tried to stay calm.  “But there are teams that specialize in people of your status.  Plus” I pointed to the monitors on the desk, “I have a job!  One that I enjoy!” my temper trying to flare.  I leaned my elbows on the desk rubbing my eyes. 

He was quiet for a minute.  “Look, this storm is going to blow for a couple of days” he said trying to stay calm.  “Let’s get some sleep.”  I just nodded.  He stepped backwards out of the room collecting the note from the floor, “We can talk in the morning.”  He softly closed the door.

I looked at the closed door.  His cologne lingered.  More than just his cologne.  Him.  The tears started to fall.  I let them.  Sniffling, I decided to take a soak in the tub.  Starting the water, I dumped in some salts from the cupboard, then sank into the hot water.  I mulled over the past 8 months.  The good, the bad.  More tears.  When the water turned cool, I got out, drained the tub and climbed into the bed.  The heat from the soak worked a charm and I was asleep in minutes.

I woke up still wrapped in the towel from the tub soak.  I slipped out of the bed, pulling on jammies and a robe.  I opened the bedroom door.  I could hear that James was in his studio.  It was a super crunchy riff floating through the house.  Smiling to myself, I went into the kitchen.  Pulling out what I needed to make a breakfast sandwich, I looked at the items on the counter.  It’s just as easy to make three as just one.  I left two on a plate in the fridge covered with a paper towel, with “Zap for 30 seconds” written on it.  I left another note on the counter, “Breakfast in fridge.”  Collecting my sandwich, a granola bar and a couple cans of Severed Lime from the fridge, I returned to my room.  Pulling my computer out of my backpack, I logged into work.

My chat window opened:

Boss:  You make the flight?

Me: No.  Got snowed in.

Boss:  You ok?

Me:  Meh

Boss:  Wanna talk?

Me:  Not right now.

Me:  I’m going Marinas Trench.  I need to get the last three chapters done.  They’re late.

Boss:  Understood.  Don’t worry about being late.  I’ll put in a good word for ya!

Me:  Thanks.

I clicked on the Out of Office option.  Then opened the files I needed from the New York servers and ate my sandwich waiting for the computers to synch.  Once done, I launched into where I’d left off.

I had no idea how long I’d been working until there was a soft knock on the door.  “Hey?” came James’ voice.

I turned to the door, “Yeah?”

“May I come in?”

Stretching, “Yeah.”

James came in and leaned against the wall.  “You sleep ok?”

Uncurling my legs from the chair, “Yes, thank you.”  Looking over at him.  “You?”

“Yeah, ok” he said.  He looked like shit.

I cocked a smile at him, “Liar.”

He huffed a laugh, “I don’t think I slept at all.”  He scrubbed his fingers through his silvered hair.  “Thanks for the breakfast sandwiches.”

I nodded, “You’re welcome.”  He kept trying to look at my computer monitors.  “What are you doing?”

“I guess I don’t know exactly what your job is.”

Patting the end of the bed, “Sit” I said.  He sat and leaned forward.  “I’m an editor.”  I rotated back to face the monitors.  “This screen is the book I’m working on” pointing to the monitor on the right.  “This screen” motioning to the one on my left, “are my notes.  The laptop in the middle just keeps me awake.”  I paused the cheesy disaster movie.

“Why the notes?” his curiosity was genuine.

“Well .. here” I pointed to a block of text highlighted on the right screen.  “The author has brought in a new character that has no backstory.  If this character was just in this paragraph it wouldn’t matter, but it shows up several more times.”  Pointing to the text on the left monitor with matching highlighting, “These are my notes back to the author asking about a backstory for this character.” 

James shifted to my left so see the screen.  “And how many notes does this author have from you?”

“On this book” I looked to the page count in the lower left corner of the window, “92.”

“Really?” he seemed shocked.

Stretching out my back, “Yeah, this guy tends to get lost in his own words.  So, I have to try to get him back out of the woods.”  I turned back towards James.  “You have never asked about my job before.  Why now?”

He sat back and looked at me.  “Because your note is correct.”  He rubbed his hands nervously on his thighs, “I haven’t taken any interest in you … outside of the bedroom.”

I heaved a sigh, “I probably should have edited my own writing.”

“No” his eyes popped up to my face.  “No.  You were right.  You were probably pissed as hell when you wrote that note.”  He ran his hands through his hair – which he did when he was nervous.  “But every word was true.  I have treated you like a whore.  I have compared you to the exes.  I have not discovered you … about you.”  His shoulders slumped some.  “I am sorry.”

That hit my heart.  Hard.  I rested my fingers on his knees.  “James.  I can accept your apology.”  His glacier blue eyes found mine.  “I can see that you mean it.”  Those gloriously blue pools now filled with doubt.  “But you will have to work on the forgiveness.”  I withdrew my fingers from his knees slowly.

Nodding, “I completely understand.”  His smile slightly lopsided.  “Will you please give me the chance to earn that forgiveness?”

I watched him a moment.  Then, smiling back at him, “Yes” I said softly.  His eyes brightened along with his smile as he stood.  “By the way” I looked up at him – damn but he’s tall.  “I really liked that crunch you had going this morning.  It sounded amazing!”

Incredibly, his eyes lit up even more, “You really liked that?”

“Yes” I smiled up at him.

“Thanks.”  He fidgeted.  “Uhmm, what would you like for dinner?”

“What time is it?” I asked looking at my computer screen.

“It’s like 3pm.  But since you made breakfast, I thought I’d make dinner.”

Nodding at him, “I will leave that to the chef.”

Nodding as he moved towards the door, “You like your steak …?”

Smiling at him, “Medium Rare.”  He closed the door with a grin.  My head was laughing Of course it would be steak!  My laptop pinged.

Boss:  Surface to Marianas Trench…. (I love my boss!)

Me:  evening.

Boss:  How’s it going?

Me:  Half way through last chapter.

Boss:  And the other thing…..?

Me:  Perhaps there is a chance here.

Boss:  ????

Me:  He just invited me to dinner.

Boss:  I thought it was snowing there still.

I took a picture out the window of the thickly falling snow and attached it to the chat.

Boss:  So?

Me:  He’s making me a steak.

Boss:  Ahh.  Well, then you need to go get ready!

Me:  Right after I finish this chapter.  Then I’m all caught up on this book.

Boss:  Fine. 

Boss:  Hope it goes well!

Me:  Thanks!

I finished the last chapter fairly quickly since it was not a complete chapter.  Saving both files to the servers and sending the links to the author – with the boss cc’d on that email – I closed down my computer.  Standing up and stretching, I moved to the bathroom.  I decided to take a shower and wash my hair.  If James was going to put in the effort to change, so could I.  No more being a slob.  I sat on the bed drying my hair when there was a tap on the door.  I popped up and grabbed the robe.  “Yes?”  No answer.  I opened the door.  There hanging on the light fixture in the hallway was a garment bag.  A postit note stuck to it.  Dinner at 6pm.   Smiling, I collected the bag and closed the door.  Laying the bag on the bed I opened it.  I only got about 6 inches open when I gasped.  Inside was a dark green velvet gown with beaded trim around the scoop neckline.  It was the dress I’d told him about.  I’d even made him watch the movie.  James had had it made.  He’d threatened to have it made for me to wear to the next awards show.  But I never thought he’d do it.  That was just a month or so after we’d started dating.  I looked at the clock.  5pm.  I had time.  I went back into the bathroom and did some tidying up.  Did my makeup and pinned up the hair.  I knew that he loved my long hair, but this gown … the hair had to be up.  Going back to the bed, I pulled the gown from the bag.  I slipped into it.  With the plunging back to just above my ass, I was completely commando beneath it.  I went to move the garment bag and it felt heavy.  Patting it down, I discovered a pair of heels.  They glittered with the same rhinestones as the trim.  Just as I slipped them on, there was a single tap at the door.  I opened the door.  The hallway was empty.  But there was a pink post it note on the floor.  Squatting down – if I’d bent over the gown would have slipped off me – I picked it up.  There was a doodle on it.  I couldn’t figure it out.  But looking up the hallway was another post it.  Another doodle.  As I walked to the stairs, there were more postit notes.  Each with a doodle.  I climbed the stairs and turned into the living room.  There stood James.  In his Brioni tux.  The sight took my breath.  Damn!  He looked good!  And he was holding another postit note, a crooked smile on his face.  He held it out to me.  The doodle on this one was a rose.

“Oh!”  I held out the ones I’d collected, “These are rose petals!”

Blushing, “Yeah, I couldn’t go get a real rose, so I improvised.”

I gently collected the one he held, “It’s lovely.”  I looked up into his eyes, “Thank you.”

James held out his hand to me – which I took – and he slowly spun me.  “I should have given this to you ages ago.”  He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it.  “You look stunning.”  I just blushed.  James tucked my hand into his elbow and gently led me down the hallway away from the kitchen and into the formal dining room.  He’d set the table.  There were candles on it and two place settings.  He pulled out the chair for me and scooched it in when I sat.  “The staff seems to have not reported to work this evening, so I will have to substitute” he said in a really bad French accent.  I giggled.  His eyes lit up.  “I shall return madam.”  I giggled even more.  James disappeared into the kitchen.  I put the pile of post it note petals on the table.  He returned with two plates.  Each bore a steak, a pile of green beans and a large slice of bread smothered in butter.  I smiled.  He was trying.  I cut into the steak and took a bite.

“How is it?” James asked.

Swallowing, “Perfection” I said.  He dug into his own.  I took a bite of the green beans.  A couple were still pretty frosty.  I didn’t say a word, but just smiled.  The bread was a garlic sourdough that I loved.  The butter was a bit much, but again, I wasn’t going to complain.  James had obviously put some thought into making dinner and I wasn’t going to ruin it.  I’d had worse meals. 

“The weather is forecasting that this snow will last another 48 hours or so” James said.

The weather.  A safe place to start.  “I haven’t listened to the weather or news today.”

“Did you get your book done?” James leaned towards me.

“I did.”

“How many do you edit?” his blue eyes clear and piercing.

“Uhm.  I have about 20 items in the wings to work on.”  I took a sip of the Squeezed to Death Orange in my glass.  He’d used champagne flutes for the sparkling water.

“Why so many?” James looked at me with raised eyebrows.

“Some are just articles.”  I put my fork down, “It all depends on release dates.  The one I worked on today is supposed to release after the New Year.  The others have release dates after that one.”

“It has nothing to do with whom the author is?”

Pushing my plate away and leaning on the table, “Sometimes.  All depends on the author and release dates.”  I looked at him.  He was genuinely interested.  “If it’s big wig author and the release date is close, then that file gets bumped to the top of the pile.”

“Who is the biggest author you have edited?”  His smile was slightly crooked.

“I don’t get the Mitchell’s or the King’s”  I grinned.

“Why not?”

“My boss says that I’m too brutal with my notes” I slow blinked him.

James sat up.  “Yeah, you can be.”  He used his napkin on his lips.  “But perhaps they need those brutal notes.”  He smiled at me.  “As a recipient, I can attest that it kicked my ass into changing how I think.”  He held out a hand to me.  I laid my fingers into it.  “And I thank you.”  I didn’t know what to say.  He simply laid his other hand over my fingers and smiled at me.  Then he popped up, “Dessert” he said collecting our plates.  I squirmed in my seat.  My thoughts ranging all over the place.  He had totally messed me up.  Again.  Just like he had when we’d met.  He returned with two small plates.  Piled creatively on each were four sandwich cookies held in place with cake frosting and topped with whipped cream.  He set them down with great flourish, “Tah dah!”

Trying my best to not snort out a laugh, “I’m sure that the patisserie chef labored all day to create these delicacies.”  James did snort out a laugh.  Which made me burst out in laughter.  I picked up one of the cookies and happily munched it.  James retook his seat and tucked into his plate.  “Seriously, these turned out pretty good” I said licking whipped cream from my fingers.

“The frosting isn’t too much?” James asked seriously.

“No.  It’s just the right amount” I said scooping the last bit up on my finger.

James grabbed my hand and gently sucked the frosting from my finger.  I didn’t retract my hand but did go a little stiff.  He kissed the back of my hand before pushing it back tenderly towards my body, smiling at me.  “I’m sorry” he said kindly.  “Just a little too soon.”

Looking down at my now empty dessert plate, “Maybe not” I said softly.  I knew he couldn’t see it, but my thighs squeezed together tightly.

“Perhaps I should escort the lady back to her room” he said looking down at his plate, “before I make a compete fool of myself.  Again.”  He smiled at me as he stood, offering me his hand.

I took his offered hand, collected the postit notes and stood.  He tenderly tucked my hand into his elbow and walked me back to the room I’d claimed as mine.  I turned at the door, “That was lovely James.”  I again slow blinked him, “Thank you.”  I wiggled his bow tie, then let my hand rest on his chest, “You look very handsome in this suit.”

He gently cupped my face and kissed my forehead.  “Thank you” he said softly.  His hands gently ran down my shoulders then arms to my hands, “I can’t wait to see you in this gown again.”  He lifted both my hands to his lips and kissed them.  “Good night.”  He took several steps backwards before turning.  I turned and opened the bedroom door.  I put the post it rose petals on the desk.  I kicked off the heels and then shrugged and let the gown slip off.  I stood there naked.  My desires wanted to race up to his room and let him have his way with me.  My integrity said no.  My curiosity wanted to know what James would do next.  Hanging the gown up, I decided another soak was in order.  I unpacked my waterproof vibrator on the way into the bathroom.

I was sound asleep.  I felt his hand on my shoulder, “Kira” he said softly.  He shook me slightly, “Kira, wake up.”  I opened my eyes to find James standing by the bed holding my robe.  “There’s something I want to show you.”  I fumbled out of the bed.  James helped me into the robe and then tucked me into his side, his left arm draping from my right shoulder down to my waist on the left side.  Wearing a huge coat and scarf, he guided me to the big sliding doors to the upper patio.  “Here, put these on.”  He guided my feet into a pair of fuzzy boots, then put on his own mukluks.  He opened the door and led me outside.  It was bitterly cold, trying to suck the air from my lungs.  James lifted the collar of the robe to cover my mouth, “Here this will help.”  It did make breathing easier.  I looked up and he had the scarf wrapped around his own mouth.  He opened his coat and his arms gently held my back close to his chest.  Then he pointed.  I followed his finger.

The clouds had parted and the sky was filled with stars.  The landscape was a blanket of white snow as far as I could see. The bitterly cold temperatures had crystalized the top of the snow.  The moon was rising.  It was reflecting on the frozen crystals making them glitter.  It looked like diamonds had been scattered over the ground.  “Here it comes!” he whispered excitedly into my ear, his breath warming my ear and neck.  I shivered.  My nipples hardened painfully.  Then the Aurora flared into life.  An undulating ribbon of greens, blues and purples danced into the sky.  I gasped.  The frozen snow below reflected the colors of the Aurora.  James wrapped his arms around me, one around my shoulders the other around my waist.  I leaned back into his warmth watching the magic of nature unfold in front of me.  I have no idea how long we stood there speechless at the beauty.  As quickly as it started, it ended.  “Wow” was all James said.

I leaned back into him, looking up at his chin, “Thank you for waking me.”  He hugged me tighter.  “That was stunning.”

His hands patted my body, “I am glad I shared it with you.”  He nodded towards the distant pass “And here comes the next round of snow.”  The clouds looked black and nasty in the now darkened sky since the Aurora had faded.

James kissed the top of my head.  “Now, you are shivering.  Let’s get back inside.”  He rotated us, his arms still wrapped around me.  We walked – a little awkwardly – back into the house, closing the big glass door behind him.  We both kicked off our boots.  He backed us into the sofa, pulling me down into his lap.  He reached over and pulled up a blanket.  He wrapped it around us.  I curled up into his arms shivering, my head resting on his chest.  His fingers gently stroked my hair.  Sleep reached up and grabbed me.

I woke up on the sofa with the blankets tucked in around me still wrapped up in my robe.  I could hear James in the kitchen.  I sat up.  “Morning sleepy head!” he chimed cheerily.  “Coffee?”  All I could do was nod.  He brought over my favorite mug filled with coffee.  I took a sip.  It was super sweet.  “Too much sugar?”  I nodded.  He went to pull the mug from my hands but I wouldn’t let it go. 

Instead I took a couple of huge slugs from it, “Now, just put more coffee into it and it will be fine.”  James went to the kitchen and grabbed the coffee pot bringing it back to me.  He filled my mug.  I swirled the mug and took a drink.  Smiling, “Yum” I beamed.  I looked out the window.  More snow had fallen over night.  The sky was still filled with grey snow clouds, but not snowing.  At the moment.

James collected his mug and sank into the sofa with me.  He flipped on the TV and tuned in the local news.  There were the stories about roofs collapsing under the weight of the snow, power lines down, cars sliding off the roads – one accident ending in a death.  “I’m glad you were smart enough to not drive that night” James whispered to me.

“Me too.”

I looked into his eyes.  The passion I saw there made my knees weak.  I reached up and wrapped my fingers around his head, pulling him to me.  I kissed him gently.  His eyes widened.  He cupped my head and kissed me back just as tenderly.  “So how are we going to spend the next day or so?” I asked teasingly.

James tightened his arm around my waist pinning me to his body, “I can think of a way” he rubbed his hands on my hips, “or two.”  He gently pushed me back, “Only if you want to.” 

I could tell that although his voice was joking, his eyes said that he’d changed.  I was no longer just a fuck buddy.  I was a woman that he wanted to spend time with.  In more ways than one.

“I’d like that” I purred.  “Just remember, you are still working on my forgiveness.”

He showered kisses all over my face, slowly pulling me towards his bedroom, “I know a way to start working on that” he growls softly at me. 

I just smiled and willingly let him lead me.

[mctvsh-sp]

Crossfire

Chapter 2 Chapter 1 here

Chapter contents: 141 finds themselves huddled in a cabin in the middle of Russia as they wait out a snow storm, and Soap takes the opportunity to get cuddly with Ghost.

CW: panic attack, lots of fluff, hurt comfort

Deep in the heart of Russia, the team trudged less than gracefully through the thick snow. Wind howled around them, and it seemed this storm would only worsen. Ghost had fallen in session with Price and Gaz ahead of him, with Soap tailing him. Tall pines stood around them, creaking unsettlingly as the wind whipped through the trees. It's tense and isolated, the constant threat of frostbite biting at their appendages. They were all wearing thick winter camo, though Ghost could still feel the chill to the bone. "My fingers are fallin' off back here!" Soap calls, half joking, trying to lighten the mood. "Hold it together, Soap," Ghost responds over his shoulder. They must be close by now. Ghost was having a hard time trading in the heavy snow as it caked his boots and weighed him down. He wasn't even sure Price knew where they were going.

-

They must have been walking for ages by the time they reached the "safe house", which turned out to just be a rickety cabin with a few beds and a fireplace. Price began to work on the fire, and in the mean time, Ghost shedded his equipment, basically leaving himself in the bare minimum, a t-shirt and pants. Everything else was soaked or caked in snow. Ghost shivered. The cabin provided shelter from the storm, but it sure wouldn't be warm until the fire was up. Ghost turned away to find Soap, who had also shed his gear and a few layers. Ghost approached him as he sat some feet away, huddled in on himself and shivering. "'Right, lets see the damage," Ghost murmurs, holding out his hands for Soap to reveal his. Soap did as told. His hands weren't in too bad of condition when he removed Soap's gloves. Soap complained when he did, whining that he was cold already, so... Ghost pulled up his mask, just enough to show his mouth, and drew Soap's hands to his lips. He breathed hot air over them and rubbed them between his own hands silently, which seemed to stun Soap into shutting up. He kept it up until he could feel Soap's hands warming, and by then, Price had got the fire going. They were both still shivering as they made it to the fire, Ghost gently leading Soap by his hands. Huddling close to the fire, Soap scooted closer to Ghost, until he was close enough so he could lean on Ghost's shoulder. And that he did. Ghost tensed, but as Soap gently rested one of his hands over Ghost's, he relaxed into the touch. They'd stay warmer if they shared warmth anyway. Price was eying the two of them from off to the side as he huddled with Gaz to Ghost's left. Price knew him the best, and this? Trusting Soap enough to hold his hand, to lean against his shoulder? Price had a sneaking suspicion that this wasn't the first time. It wasn't long before both Soap and Gaz had fallen asleep, and Ghost could feel price staring at him as he quietly sharpened his knives. "Proud of ya, son," Price's rough voice sounded. Ghost froze as Price leaned forward to pat him on the shoulder. Ghost slowly absorbed the praise, as he unfroze, returning back to his knives without a word.

-

Soap had woken a while ago. Now well rested, he was chatting away. Now that they were all warm, Ghost felt more comfortable engaging with him. They talked for ages, even as Price fell asleep, their whispers and giggles making Ghost feel like a teenager again. Soap was still leaning against him, his head on Ghost's shoulder as they whispered to each other. "Soap, how does a snowman get around?" Ghost started, a giddy grin on his face. "Bloody hell. Okay, how?" "An 'icicle'." Soap sat silently for a second before bursting out into giggles, Ghost smiling at his side. "That was the dumbest one yet," Soap groaned, looking up at Ghost. Ghost couldn't help but stop and stare back, those beaming blue eyes holding him there. Ghost can't stop himself from raising his hand, cupping Soap's face in his palm, pulling him closer and pressing his forehead to Soap's. Price and Gaz were asleep. Maybe he could just... Sneak one. Ghost raises his mask, still holding Soap's jaw as he guides him in, closing his eyes as they kiss. It's slow and tender, and Ghost doesn't pull away for a while, until they're fully making out. Ghost turns his body towards Soap, pulling him closer until Soap's suddenly clambering into Ghost's lap, cupping his jaw in a similar manner to the way Ghost is. But still, even with the familiarity and the trust he feels with Soap, Ghost freezes up. He flinches. Soap pulls back, watching him with concern. Ghost can't stand to meet his eyes. He didn't know what was happening, he just wasn't sure about having him in his lap. "Ye' alright?" Soap mutters. Bless his heart. Ghost just buries his face in Soap's chest. his arms snake around Soap's waist, and he's gripping the back of Soap's jacket. "Solid, Johnny," Ghost finally replies. Soap hums in response, resting his chin on Ghost's head and closing his eyes. "Don't be. Go to sleep," Ghost replies, his response making Soap frown. But he listens. He's drifting off in minutes, comfortable in Ghost's hold.

-

Soap awakes to a dark room, and him in bed. Ghost must have moved him. Soap scanned the room. Price and Gaz are asleep in beds, and Soap assumes they must have moved. And then he finds Ghost... still sitting by the fire. "Simon?" Soap calls softly. Ghost tenses. "Go back to sleep, Soap," Ghost's voice is shaking. When soap looks closer, Ghost is shaking. Soap frowns and climbs out of bed, approaching Ghost cautiously. Soap rests his hand on Ghost's shoulder, making him flinch under his touch. He's trembling. Soap sits down next to him. "Soap, go back to bed." "No, sir." Ghost won't look at him. He can't. Can't show him the tears dripping from his eyes. God, he's such a baby. Ghost flinches as Soap gently grabs his hand. He can't stand to look over to see the worried look on Soap's face. Soap leans against his shoulder again. Soap's thumb is softly brushing over his knuckles as he holds Ghost's hand. Ghost can feel his breath start to steady. There's something in the simplicity of Soap's actions that's more soothing than being barraged by questions. Soap's presence is soothing. God, he- oh. He... loves Soap. He trusts him. Maybe a bit too much. and that scares him. He's used to working alone, and now he needs Soap every time he needs to calm down? Ghost can feel his breathing pick up again. What happens if Soap dies? How is he gonna manage then? How will he manage even if Soap is just away on a mission? He's silently panicking, rough breaths becoming harder to suck in. his vision is blurry with tears. He can idly feel Soap wrap his arm around his shoulders, scooting closer until his side is pressed against Ghost's. Ghost's hand is drawn to his chest, clutching the front of his shirt. "Simon, it's okay," Soap whispers, his other hand coming to pull Ghost's hand away from himself and Soap's hold. Ghost instead clenches down on Soap's hand, and is thankful that Soap doesn't pull his hand away from how hard he's squeezing. Soap is gently rubbing his back. A rough sob is ripped from his chest, tears dripping down his face and soaking his mask. Soap continues to whisper reassurances and comforting words, and suddenly Ghost can't see himself living a life without Soap. What did he do to ever deserve someone like him? Eventually, Ghost calms down. His breathing slows into slightly labored but measured breaths, remembering his training. His tears have stopped and he's lessened the grip on Soap's hand. Ghost clears his throat. "Just a nightmare," He answers the unsaid question. The one he knows is on the tip of Soap's tongue. Soap nods. "Come to bed, Si. We can.. cuddle. If you want," Soap murmurs quietly. Ghost nods, and Soap gets up, lending Ghost a hand up before they head to one of the too-small cots. Soap lays down, lifting the covers in an invitation for Ghost to join him under. Ghost obliges, and instantly Ghost is clinging to Soap, wrapping his arms around Soap's torso and holding him tight. His face is buried in Soap's chest again, a leg slung over Soap's. Soap kisses the top of Ghost's head. Ghost can finally sleep soundly.

[undressmewithyoureyes]

Let There Be Light - Forty Six

Four Months

               Four months passed slowly as your belly began to swell. You were almost six months pregnant, and your belly just covered over your feet so when you looked down, you couldn’t see them. The rapid movement from your precious bundle of joy gave you the most hope and brought light on your darkest days. Feeling him or her move around and kick inside you would always bring a smile to your face no matter the storm you were going through.

               König slept in your bed every night and watched over you like a hawk. His massive frame swallowing yours anytime he was close to you. Over the course of the four months from your capture, König made it a point to fuck you regularly. You hated it. Your body betrayed you most nights – him making you come over and over, but the fucked-up part is you thought of Ghost the whole time. König would praise you that you had finally broke and submitted to him, but you must’ve played the part well because you had not.

               Michael visited you once in a while but left the overseeing to König. You knew that Michael knew what König was doing to you, but he didn’t care. You were a dollar sign in his eyes, and the mention of your baby coming out of his mouth made you sick to your stomach. Michael and König, both told you that once you had the baby, it would be given to a family in need. You screamed and lashed out with the most futile anger, but König grabbed you in his arms and whispered dark threats in your ear on how he would get rid of the child if you didn’t comply. Every time, you would slump to your knees as König kneeled behind you and hushed your cries.

               Most nights you lay in bed crying yourself to sleep – feeling that there has to be another way and a way to end this hell because you couldn’t understand why this was happening to you. Michael had told you time and time again that Ghost and the rest of 141 weren’t looking for you. He tried to manipulate your mind telling you that they would have found you already and Ghost didn’t want you – especially now since you were pregnant. “Ghost didn’t love his own father, what makes you think he wants to be just like him?” Michaels words rang through your mind on repeat.

               A part of you started to believe it, but your gut told you to get that shit out of your head. ‘Simon Riley loves you. Johnny MacTavish loves you and 141 will find you’ is what you would keep telling yourself in your darkest times.

               “Something is on your mind Liebling?” König said to you as he was getting out of your bed. One thing about it, König was great at observing. Any shift in you, he was on it. You noticed that he was asking you this a lot lately, but you were also disassociating several times a day.

               “Theres always something on my mind,” you say back to him. König had stood straight up and turned around to face you from your dark tone.

               “Your little boyfriend?” he taunted. “Or should I say…boyfriends.” You snarled your lips at him mocking you and trying to get under your skin. You don’t respond, but the look on your face makes his eyes crease from grinning.

               König turns and starts walking towards the door to your room before taunting you more, “If I was in a house off the radar, I’d have trouble finding you too.” You jerk your head up to him as the words processed in your mind. You keep your mouth shut, not wanting König to realize that you caught what he was saying. You swallow the lump in your throat when he stops abruptly and slowly turns to the side to look at you.

               Your face was white as snow as all color drained from it and his eyes pierced through you. “I guess the cats out of the bag,” he says darkly as he starts walking back towards you.

               “W-what are you talking about?” you ask trying to sound dumb.

               König clicks his tongue not taking his eyes off you. You slide back in the bed and press your back against the wall, “You scared Liebling?”.

               You don’t answer. The look in his eyes tells you everything you need to know – you weren’t supposed to find out they were looking for you. König places one knee on the bed and starts crawling towards you – his body towering yours. He grabs you by your throat as your hands fly to his as he pulls you to him.

               An unfamiliar sound echoed outside causing König to tense with you still in his grasp. His grip wasn’t the tightest he’s had around you, but it wasn’t a loose grip either. Your green eyes clashed with his as you both looked confused with the noise you both heard. You dared not speak or breathe nonetheless, and König did the same – listening for the sound again. Whatever it was, was loud considering you were in a concrete soundproof room.

               Another sound, but this time it was closer and more familiar. A gunshot. König jerked you off the bed, standing you up and your back pressed against his front. He reached down and grabbed his pistol from his thigh holster and held it beside you both. “Don’t make a fucking sound,” he says as he brings you both to the corner of the room where you both are facing the door.

               A small yelp came from you as a loud bang bounced off the concrete walls around you. Whoever it was, was trying to beat the door down. König raised his gun and pointed it towards the door – his other hand still around your throat. You press your body into his, instinctively knowing that it was The Shadows on the other side of the door. You felt König take a deep breath from your submission and pressing yourself against him willingly.

               Another loud bang on the door caused you to jump and your heart flutter as anxiety overtook you. Muffled chatter could be heard, but you couldn’t make out who the person was, but you knew Michael had pissed Graves off yet again and he was coming for what he wanted. You.

               You held your breath to hear more clearly, but your heartbeat thudded in your ears – making it impossible to hear anything far away. The chatter stopped as the anxiety that was in your chest was starting to spread over your body – causing your face and lips to go numb. Your breathing picked up as you tried your best to control your hyperventilating. If it was Graves, there’s no telling what he would do to you or the baby and its not like you could fight like you used to; you could, but there was a high probability the baby wouldn’t make it.

               “I got y-,” König’s words were cut off as an explosion knocked you and König against the wall behind him. Thank God he was behind you and cushioned you. Dirt and dust flew through the air as heavy footsteps and metal entered the room. Your ears were ringing, and your lungs burned from breathing in the polluted air. König released you from his grasp as you fell to your knees and then all fours gasping for air.

               “Harley?!”

               That voice. You jerk your head up. It cant be.

               “Harley?!”

               The dust hadn’t settled in the room yet, but you could start to make out dark figures. You look through squinted eyes trying to make out the dark figures better.

               “S-Simon?” you call back. You were dreaming. It cant be him. You must’ve knocked your head on something and were imagining all of this.

               The footsteps grew closer, “Fuckin’ hell. She’s here!” you hear him. His voice never sounded better. The relief in his voice brought tears to your eyes and every doubt you had ever thought, was answered, and laid to rest from hearing the confirmation in his tone.

               Most of the dust was starting to fall and familiar faces looked at you. You let out a soft sob as tears spilled down your face. It wasn’t a dream. They were here. You watch as Ghost stops in his tracks towards you – eyes wide. A burning sensation filled your head as you felt a hand in the back of your hair jerking you up to your feet; your neck craned back.

               “What did I tell you? You.Are.Mine,” König says through gritted teeth. A small yell fell out of your mouth from the pain.

               “Let her go!” Soap yells out.

               “Or what?” König plays back.

               “Weve got six guns on your one. Now let her go,” Price demands.

               König released your hair roughly as you lunge forward. He immediately grabs ahold of both of your arms with his free hand and holds you against him. You felt pressure on the side of your stomach.

               “NO!” you hear Ghost yell. You look around confused as you look down and see König’s gun pressed against the side of your stomach and his finger on the trigger.

               “Fuck your six guns,” he spits out. “You drop me, that’s one body. One bullet from me can drop two bodies. Now who’s winning Captain?”

               Your body stilled at his threat as you shake your head rapidly. “König,” you whisper out.

               “Don’t whisper now baby. Tell your boyfriend over there how much you have enjoyed screaming my name since the first time he watched.” The darkness in his voice was like daggers poking at your skin. “Or should you tell your other boyfriend, Soap, is it?,” he pauses as his words continue to taunt you. “Does the team know about your love triangle Harley? Do they know that you not only fuck the Lieutenant, but one of the Sergeants too?”

               König applies more pressure to the gun on your stomach causing the baby inside of you to kick harder. “This child doesn’t deserve to be born,” he threatens. Your breathing picks up as your vision starts going in and out.

               “Simon,” you whisper out a sob as the tears stream down your face and drip onto the large black t-shirt you were wearing. Your eyes met his amber ones as you blinked through the tears wanting to see him for the last time. He was scared as his eyes went from yours to your belly. The black around his eyes starting to disappear from the salty liquid leaking out of his.

               “I will always love you,” you whisper out to him.

               As the last word left your lips, a gunshot rang out and your world went black.

[paperstorm]

wip wednesday

I was tagged by @inflarescent @alrightbuckaroo @birdclowns and @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut

Season 3 of Missing Moments is in the initial phases baybee so have a scene I wrote at 4am while insomniatic and trying to dig into Carlos's mindset at the hospital. (does that low key count as self harm lol probably)

-

Carlos tugs his jacket tighter around his shoulders as he steps out into the still-falling snow thought the automatic sliding doors. He passes by others, concerned visitors braving the storm to visit their loved ones. The chill seeps quickly through his clothes and into his bones. Carlos has lived his entire life in Austin, he’s never felt cold like this. TK used to tell him about winters in Manhattan, about snow and sleet and the kind of cold that burrows into muscles and tightens skin and leaves a person with chattering teeth and lungs aching from inhaling ice crystals, but Carlos could only ever imagine it until now. It’s worse than TK’d described. But come to really think of it, the cold might not be the reason he’s having trouble gasping for a proper breath.

He finds a brick half-wall, a built in planter than in the summer months would be filled with flowers, and he sits onto it. It’s all he can do not to collapse onto the snowy ground. Carlos tucks his shaking hands into his own armpits, clenching every muscle in his body as his molars press together in a useless attempt to stop himself from bursting into tears. His eyes burn, his head pounds, his breath comes in uneven bursts through his nose.

It can, the doctor had said. Their chosen course of treatment can work, for someone in TK’s condition. She hadn’t meant it. Carlos may not be a medical professional like she is, he may not be the same sort of hero as her and Captain Vega and TK and Nancy, but he’s still a first responder. He still knows that dance. He knows intimately the mask of sympathy to wear and the tone of voice to adopt when the situation calls for kindly offering a grain of false hope to someone in a sand-dune of despair.

His shoulders shake. A woman with a teenaged daughter in tow crosses in front of him on their way towards the parking lot, and Carlos tucks his chin down against his chest so they won’t see the way his eyes are filled with tears.

It’s important to know when a thing is over, he’d said to Marjan, only hours ago before his world was tilted off its axis. Like the well-meaning but misleading doctor, Carlos hadn’t meant it. The mask he’s constructed out of his grief and anger and loneliness and heartbreak disintegrates right off his face and seems to crumble to dust at his feet. He wipes in annoyance and tears on his cheeks, that freeze to his skin almost as soon as they’ve spilled from his stinging eyes.

When to move on, he’d said. She saw through him.

Once upon a time, Carlos was a master of this deception. He built a home for himself constructed almost entirely in lies, in half-truths and secrets and pieces of himself given only on a need-to-know basis, and he wasn’t happy, but it was good enough. It was enough that his parents still invited him over for dinner. It was enough that his coworkers only speculated about his sexuality in private and to his face behaved at least cordially and professionally, even if behind his back they were sneering at him. It was enough that Michelle knew he was gay and accepted him for it, even if she was always too consumed with loss to ever really take an interest in Carlos’s wellbeing after Iris was gone. It was all enough, and then TK came along, and then it wasn’t. And Carlos’s ability to lie to himself so successfully burned up along with everything else he lost in the fire.

He never moved on, he’s still stuck right where he was the day TK walked out on him, and if he loses TK forever, Carlos can’t see a way to ever extricate himself from this spot.

He untucks his right hand, exposing his bare skin to the frigid air and reaching with trembling fingers into the pocket of his jacket for his cellphone. He’s been avoiding this very action for months, but Carlos hurts in every inch of his body as he sits here in the snow and considers a future in which TK is just a jumble of increasingly bittersweet memories and a gravestone he’ll never work up the courage to visit, he can’t avoid it anymore. He presses his thumb into Mama in his contacts and brings the phone up to his ear, choking on an inhale as his heart races while it rings.

“Carlitos,” she answers. “Hola, mi amor, are you keeping warm?”

Carlos vibrates. A miserable noise escapes from his throat and he quickly covers his mouth with his free hand, reduced to clawing back desperate sobs the very second he hears her warm, familiar voice in his ear.

“Carlos?” Andrea says sharply. “Mjio, what’s wrong? Are you alright?”

Carlos gasps and squeezes his eyes shut so tightly he gives himself an instant headache, rocking back and forth just slightly against the flowerbed as he fights to pull himself under control – or at the very least to wrestle back enough control so that he can stop scaring her.

“Carlos!”

“It’s not me,” he manages to force out, with a cough. “It’s TK.”

Andrea inhales. “What happened?”

“He was … there was a little boy trapped under the ice.” Carlos’s voice shakes but he pushes through it. “His team was trying to rescue him, and TK went into the water. I’m at the hospital, he’s … they’re saying he might not wake up.”

“I – might not why?” Andrea asks. She sounds so upset, and it only makes Carlos feel even more like he’s about to throw up on the sidewalk underneath his boots.

“Hypothermia. They’re trying, but …” He trails off, unable to finish the sentence.

“Oh, mijo,” Andrea sighs.

“I can’t …” Carlos sniffs and shakes his head. “I just wanted you to know.”

“What hospital?”

“Austin General.”

“Stay right where you are, I will be there in 30 minutes.”

“No.” Carlos sits up a bit straighter and shakes his head. A few fractions of the anguish fall away. He wipes at the tears on his face and new ones don’t replace them. “It’s dangerous, there are people sliding into ditches all over the roads and the first responders are all slammed. Stay where you are.”

“Carlos – ”

“I mean it,” he insists, kind but firm. “This is bad enough without me having to worry about you stuck in a snowbank somewhere the paramedics can’t get to you. Okay?”

She’s quiet for a moment and Carlos thinks she’s going to continue arguing, but she doesn’t. In a heavy, displeased voice, Andrea replies, “Alright. Keep me updated.”

“I will.”

“Te amo. I’m so sorry this is happening.”

“Thanks. I love you, too.” He sniffs again and ends the call before he can catch her response. If he hears her voice for one more second Carlos thinks he might break apart into a million pieces, and he can’t do that right now. He shoves his phone back into his pocket and stands, scrubbing hands over his face one last time to make sure it’s dry and then heading back inside.

Tagging @theghostofashton @strandnreyes @reyestrandd @heartstringsduet @bonheur-cafe @goodways @beautifulhigh @carlos-in-glasses @liminalmemories21 @redshirt2 @orchidscript @freneticfloetry @whatsintheboxmh @wtfuckevenknows

[bingbongsupremacy]

Snow Storm

Pairing: Ellie Williams x Reader

Warnings: I didn't know how to end so yeah.

Summary: You and Ellie have hated each other for years. Will one snowy night change that?

* Not Proof Read * TLOU Masterlist

*****

" Are you kidding me, Dina? " I huff in annoyance. " We fucking hate each other. You couldn't have asked literally anyone else? "

Dina rolls her eyes. " It's not my fault your fucking brother got me sick. And I tried. Big surprise, no one wants to patrol on Christmas. "

I let out a sigh. " Fine, whatever. Just...get better. I'll see you later. " Muddy snow crunches under my boots as I make my way through the streets of Jackson. Not many people are out today, most deciding to stay home with their families. As I near the stables, I see her.

" Well well, look who decided to be on time today. " Ellie smirks while adjusting her pack onto Shimmer.

" Oh fuck you. It was one time and I was like five minutes late. " I shove my pack onto my horse, Posey, and jump up.

" Somebody's still a bitch. " Ellie mutters.

" You're one to talk. You literally always start it. " I direct Posey towards the gates.

Ellie scoffs. " Sure. "

" Let's just not talk, alright? Neither of us wants to be here. The faster we get this shit done, the faster we can both go home. "

" Deal. "

*****

" For the last time, Y/N, we can't make it back to Jackson in this weather. We have to wait it out! " Ellie shouts over the raging snow storm. " You know what, if you want to go, go! I'm not fucking dying because you're too impatient to wait this out. " Ellie turns her horse towards the nearest building.

I guess she's right. I mean, the storm doesn't look like it's going to die down anytime soon and I have no fucking idea where I am. We have to be at least an hour or two away from Jackson. There's no way I'd make it back. I can barely see my hands.

With an annoyed groan, I turn my horse towards the direction Ellie went. I jump down and ignore Ellie's smirk.

" I see someone came to their senses. "

I don't bother responding, instead yanking down the garage door. I turn on my flash light and slowly walk into the dark house. " You get left. " I whisper to Ellie, who nods.

Once we finish searching the house, we end up finding ourselves both in the living room.

" I'll see if I can get a fire started. " Ellie begins throwing random things into the fireplace and attempting to light a fire. A small orange flame forms, quickly engulfing everything in the chimney. A warm light is cast through the room, making it feel less intimidating.

A sharp pain startles me. I let out a gasp and reach towards my side. A wet, sticky liquid coats my cold hand. " Shit. "

Ellie's head snaps towards me. " You-Fuck what the hell happened? " She stands up from her crouching position and walks towards me.

" It's not that bad. I must've got it when we were running from the infected. I didn't even notice. " I hiss slightly while gently lifting up the corner of my now blood covered shirt. " Maybe a little more than a scratch. " My eyes widen at the jagged cut. I start to feel a little bit woozy at the sight of the crimson liquid. Shit, I'm fine with blood as long as it isn't mine. I wobble slightly from the image.

Ellie rushes towards me, grabbing onto my waist. " Fuck, be careful. " She slowly leads me towards an old couch near the fire.

The feel of her rough hands sends butterflies tumbling through my stomach. I'd be lying if I said I didn't find her attractive.

The feeling of disappointment settles on me as soon as she lets go.

Ellie wouldn't like me back. We fucking hate each other.

Right?

Then why is she helping me?

Ellie digs through her pack for a small box. She pulls out a small bottle of alcohol, a needle, and some thread. " Not gonna lie, this is going to hurt like hell. "

I nod. " Just hurry. "

I clench my teeth as her cold hands touch my bare skin. She pours a little bit of the alcohol on my cut. " Mother fucker. " I hiss while shoving my nails into my fists.

Ellie quickly begins sewing up the cut. Her face is full of concentration.

When Ellie finishes, I let out a sigh and drop my head against the couch.

" I'd definitely get that checked out when we get back, but it'll do for now. "

I send her a tired smile. " Thanks. "

She nods and packs away the kit.

We sit in a heavy silence for what seems like hours until Ellie finally breaks it.

" Why do we do this? "

I turn my head over to her. " Because people will die if we don't patrol? " I ask in confusion.

Ellie shakes her head. Strands of her hair falls into her face, casting a slight shadow on her rosy cheeks. " No, not that. This. " She gestures at us. " Why are we such assholes to each other? "

I take a moment to think. Honestly...I'm not sure. " It's because...I think...I don't know. " I shrug. " I just remember us not liking each other since the day you showed up in Jackson. That was so long ago...I can't even remember. "

Ellie lets out a slight chuckle. " I don't remember either. God we're fucking idiots. "

I roll my eyes with a grin. " Yeah we are. "

" Why don't we...start over? " Ellie suggests. " Minus the enemy parts. "

I nod. " Let's do that. "

Ellie holds out her hand with a grin. " I'm Ellie. Nice to meet you. "

My hand encloses hers. " I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you too. "

Hopefully this time will be better.

[wyattjohnston]

need a little company - nick blankenburg

summary: morgan hasn't seen nick in years and her strongest memories of him are the crush he had on her in college. when he gets signed to columbus after years apart, morgan realises that maybe she should have given him a chance.

chapter word count: 4.8k

last < table of contents > next

In a moment of peak doom and gloom, Morgan wished she was at work.

The snowstorm outside was what she’d expected to wake up to; what she hadn’t expected was for her bedside lamp to produce zero light or for her house to be significantly colder than any other morning that month.

She used the last of her hot water to take a shower and then sat on her couch, pretending that she was a good Midwesterner and not affected by a little snow, and hoped that she got a good update on when her power would be back on.

As the morning got later and later, Morgan started to feel a spike of panic—the estimated time for the power being fixed was pushed back every half an hour until it was clear she wouldn’t be seeing light for at least another day, and the window for sorting out where she was going was narrowing.

She needed to get hold of Nick before he left for the airport.

It was becoming a little frightening how quickly Nick answered her calls. They were in their mid-20s, so it wasn’t weird for either of them to have their phone on them at all times. Morgan just usually waited until it rang a few times before answering.

Nick answered on the first ring every time without fail.

“Miss me already?” he asked in lieu of a proper greeting.

Morgan did, truthfully, but she wouldn’t tell him that. “I’m about to ask you something a little wild.”

“I’m listening.”

“So… the storms have, uh, they’ve taken out my power?” she said—asked—cautiously, unsure of how to even approach her wild idea without just blurting it out. “And—I was wondering if I could maybe stay at your place while you’re at home for Christmas.”

Just as quickly as he’d answered the phone, Nick said, “Come to Michigan with me.”

“That’s an even worse idea now than it was last week,” Morgan scoffed, glaring at the flickering shadows created by her candles.

“Why?”

“Because you’re leaving this afternoon. It’s Christmas, and there’s no way there’s any plane tickets left.”

“It’s a four-hour drive. I can’t, but if you don’t mind driving in the storm, we can leave whenever you’re ready, and be there before dinner. I’ll try to get you a ticket right now, though. I’ll call you back.”

“Nick—if you don’t want me staying in your house without you—”

“I don’t want you spending Christmas by yourself. I want to spend Christmas with you, Mo. Can I sort this out and call you back?”

Morgan relented, even if only because she had no clue how else to respond. She waited for him to call back, not knowing if the flight or the drive would be worse for her self-control.

None of it worried her too much from a work perspective, as she used half of her generous PTO to take a break over Christmas when nobody else in the company wanted it.

From a personal perspective… spending Christmas at Nick’s family home with Nick’s family was one of the more daunting things she could think of doing.

Her phone rang after an hour of silence. She’d been preparing herself for a total reversal of his suggestion and was trying to plan how she was going to keep warm until her power was back on.

“We’re going to have to drive,” he told her, sounding a little harried and out of breath. “So, if you can pack enough for four days and walk to mine as quick as you can, we can leave as soon as you get here.”

“Nick… Just get on the plane, I’ll be fine here,” she insisted, hating that he was changing all of his plans at the very last minute just because the universe and the weather hated her.

“No can do. I already told my mom you were coming, and she’s preparing Katrina’s old bedroom as we speak.”

“You can’t use your mom against me.”

“It’s working, though. Isn’t it?”

Morgan huffed, stared out the window at the ongoing storm and bounced on the spot for a moment as she thought over the idea, over Karin expecting her, and finally said, “I need to pack.”

She rushed through packing enough for four nights, including something nice for Christmas Day when Nick made out that it was an all-out, extended family affair that had Morgan returning back to the idea of just staying in her frozen house. She managed, though, and packed far too much for what was essentially a long weekend and met Nick in his garage where he was waiting at his car with a smile even bigger than she was used to.

Relief coursed through her when she saw that his car was still a very sensible Toyota and not an expensive luxury car that he expected her to drive without warning—she hadn’t even realised that was a possibility until she was there.

Nick started talking instantly, setting up the route on Google Maps and hitting play on Spotify. Morgan was actually quite distracted by the CarPlay screen that took up the centre of the console because her car interior had to be pulled apart to plug in an aux cord. The four-hour estimated travel time stared back at Morgan, the longest drive she’d done since driving to Columbus, and she took a steadying breath. Being in a car with Nick for that long was going to be the hardest part of the entire trip.

“So, my mom has set up Katrina’s room for you, and Nolan will be staying in Alex’s room.”

“Nolan?” Morgan clarified, even though she knew it would be Moyle. “Does your family just take in strays?”

“My mom can’t say no to feeding somebody, you know that.”

She did know. Intimately. While she had never been one to focus on her weight, the lack of running in her life combined with the increase in hearty food was making her aware of the scales for the first time in a long time. She would never decline a home cooked meal, though, so it wasn’t worrying her too much.

Nick gave her a quick rundown of his extended family, as well as some extra information about his siblings. Morgan tried to commit it all to memory as best she could, even if she knew she would forget it the second she was faced with an actual person to put to a name.

Two hours into their drive, when they were nearing Toledo, Nick asked, “Do you want to stop for a bit?”

Morgan’s brow furrowed as she looked at their estimated arrival time of just after two. They hadn’t stopped yet, and she wasn’t mad at the idea of driving without a break if it meant getting there sooner.

“I could use a stretch, and I think your knee could, too.”

It wasn’t until Nick pointed it out that she realised she’d been rubbing at her sore knee and couldn’t say how long she’d been doing it.

“Can we stop somewhere I can buy presents?” she suggested, not ready to admit that it was to give her knee a break. Nick wasn’t stupid enough to miss the deflection.

It wasn’t until they were inside a shopping mall that Nick asked who she wanted to buy presents for.

Incredulously, Morgan’s eyes widened, and she scrambled to remember the list she’d been creating in the car, “Your dad? Your siblings? Moyle?”

“Nothing for my mom?” he asked, teasing, and pointing into the Yankee Candle store they were walking past.

Morgan directed him away with a hand on his forearm. It was a very nice forearm, even through his thick sweater. That wasn’t something she had ever thought about.

“I already bought her something when I thought she might still be in Columbus. I was going to run it over to you before you left for your flight.”

She would have had to see him anyway to give him his present to open on Christmas Day. She wasn’t even sure he realised she had something for him tucked away in her bag.

“Nobody is expecting presents,” he assured her, still being easily moved in any direction she led him.

“Sure,” Morgan nodded in agreement, only to immediately continue, “but I can’t just hand one to your mom and not get anything for anyone else. That’s so rude.”

Nick conceded and agreed to help her find something small for his family, only if she promised to not buy anything for Nolan who, he assured her, would not have taken the time to get her anything. That at least made sense to Morgan—nobody had known she was even coming until that morning.

Morgan had never had a more rushed shopping experience—and the only person rushing her was herself. They did manage to get out with presents for Karl, Alex and Katrina. Morgan hoped they were worth it. Even in her haste she made sure to buy something nice, something usable, something they would want. Nick wasn’t always very believable when he was trying to assure her she wasn’t just buying garbage. She didn’t think he was as bad a liar as she was; maybe she was wrong about it.

Walking around and stretching meant that Morgan made it through the rest of the drive without too much pain. There was some ibuprofen in her future regardless.

Karin greeted them when they arrived, Morgan melting into the hug because she missed them even after less than two weeks since her last. Karin didn’t seem bothered by the length of it. Her hug with Nick was just as long, anyway.

Between the three of them—two, really, with Nick on crutches—they managed to bring in everything packed into the Toyota and carry it up to the second floor and the bedrooms. Morgan’s bags were dropped into what she assumed had been Katrina’s childhood bedroom, but she didn’t stay there for very long before she wandered back down the hall to Nick’s room.

“Karl will be home soon, and we’ll have some dinner,” Karin said as they passed each other in the hall.

Morgan knocked on the doorframe to the room Karin had walked out of and tilted her head around the corner when Nick acknowledged her. He was simultaneously packing and unpacking, switching out clothes that he’d brought back from Columbus for things still in his drawers, his bad leg kneeling on a chair that looked like it belonged in the dining room. Morgan sat down on the end of his bed to watch.

Nick looked between her and the door, his cheeks brightening suddenly, and he stumbled over his words, “If we’re in a room together—or if you’re in a room with Nolan—or I guess the three of us together—the door—she knows we’re adults it’s just—a married thing and—”

“It’s fine,” Morgan said slowly with her head tilted. “Doors open. Pretty standard.”

With still red cheeks, Nick’s shoulders fell, and he mumbled, “Feels a bit like we’re in high school.”

Morgan hummed, it did feel a bit unnecessary when they were in their mid-20s and, more importantly, not in a relationship. Them not being in a relationship, though, was all the more reason to let it slide. She had nothing to hide.

A thought crossed her mind, and she couldn’t help but tease, “You bring a lot of girls home in high school?”

“We had, ya know,” Nick mumbled, again, his cheeks growing impossibly redder, “assignments and stuff.”

“Some biology? Human anatomy?” she prodded, leaning forward.

Nick’s head shook, a nervous laugh bubbling out of his mouth, “My mom would have had my head if I’d pulled that.”

“You must have gone wild when you were shipped off to Alberta.” Morgan leant forward so excitedly that she nearly face planted off the bed. “And then to college? Nicholas Blankenburg, have you been holding out on me?”

His laughter stopped, and the mood in the room turned sombre rather abruptly. Morgan sat up straighter, worried about what she’d done to cause the sudden change.

“Was too busy pining over you in college to go wild.”

Morgan’s breath hitched. “You didn’t pine over me for four years.”

“Not four, no.”

Nick smiled gently as he spoke, the eye contact he was making with her, earnest and intense, had Morgan shifting with nervous energy.

“When is Nolan getting here?” she asked, deflecting.

“Right now!”

Morgan’s head snapped to the door at the loud, new voice. It was, perhaps unsurprisingly, Nolan who had shouted at them. He walked into the room with his arms held wide and made a beeline for Nick. Morgan couldn’t help but feel like she was interrupting something when they hugged each other, speaking to each other in low, excited voices, so she took to looking around Nick’s unexpectedly bare room.

She’d expected more trophies, more jerseys, more proof that he’d played hockey his entire life. There were a few things, some posters and hockey sticks—

“Mo!”

Morgan looked forward to Nolan standing directly in front of her, his arms stretched just as wide as they had been for Nick. She rose to her feet and was immediately swept into a hug as if she was a long-lost friend and not just someone who, for two years, had been in the same, very expanded group.

Regardless, she greeted him happily and warmly. It was a hockey boy thing she’d never forgotten, that they all very much treated everybody they liked as if they were family. Nick’s easy acceptance in her life had been proof enough, but Nolan dropping down onto the bed beside her and starting up his own teasing of Nick did a good job at solidifying it.

Morgan didn’t even think as she followed Nick up the staircase—it was just the two of them, Nolan nowhere to be seen. She stretched out on Nick’s bed after switching on his bedside lamp to light the room, watching as he hobbled around the room, hanging up his coat and removing his tie. The movement was getting smoother, without a doubt, but there was still a noticeable caution.

“Your family is really great,” she whispered. “You’re so lucky to have them.”

She held her breath as he laid on the bed beside her and ignored the swoop in her stomach as he faced her and put his hands under his cheek on the pillow.

“Can I ask why you don’t talk to yours? I guessed it was pretty bad when you didn’t spend Thanksgiving with them, and now you’re here for Christmas.”

Her shrug was awkward, but she tried to buy herself time to think of an answer he would understand.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“No, it’s… People who are tight with their families don’t always get it.”

The tension that fell over the room was what Morgan had been worried about, the sudden tightness of Nick’s mouth as he considered what she’d said and the inevitable conclusions he would jump to if she didn’t elaborate. Except, if anybody would accept her not elaborating it would be Nick. He very clearly wasn’t going to push her, even if he had started to frown and looked anywhere but her face.

“I haven’t—”

“You don’t have to, Mo, it’s okay.”

“I haven’t spoken to anyone in my family since I left for college,” she continued, her voice firm enough to ensure Nick knew she was comfortable with continuing. “My parents and I never saw eye-to-eye, and they couldn’t stand the idea of me going to college, especially not for cross country.”

“What did they want you to do?”

“Marry Drew, and start popping out kids.” Morgan sighed, saying the real reason, “Stay where they could keep an eye on me.”

“I can’t imagine anyone ever needing to keep an eye on you.”

“I was too worldly for their liking. Made me a bad daughter.”

She smiled—to herself, mostly—forever amused by the idea that she of all people was too worldly, that leaving Ohio for Michigan was some dangerous and exotic adventure, that returning to Ohio was her hooking up with the devil. Nick found it just as amusing, or maybe he just found her amusement amusing because he started smiling, too, and, before Morgan knew it, they were laughing together.

It quickly got out of hand, laughing at absolutely nothing, but hard enough that neither of them was really making much noise.

The distance between them was slowly slipping away as they laughed, Morgan listing forward with every desperate attempt at inhaling. Nick wasn’t leaning away, either, though, not even when the laughter eventually stopped, and they were just lying beside each other again.

With just the bedside lamp lighting the room and a small stream of light coming from the staircase, Morgan was captivated by the angelic glow on Nick’s already soft expression. An admission tumbled from her lips without much forethought; she didn’t even feel panicked by it.

“I regretted saying ‘no’ when you asked me out. Not right away, but you were really good about it and limited the flirting, and by the time you weren’t a freshman, and I didn’t have to feel weird about it… you stopped flirting all together.”

A conflicted grimace morphed onto Nick’s face, not bad enough for Morgan to regret what she’d said, but enough that if she’d known she would have held onto it for another moment.

“It was two-fold: that sort of persistence usually gets creepy, but it also sucked to get shut down like I did.”

“I heard you got a girlfriend.”

“Sophomore year, yeah. After I stopped asking about you all the time other girls started to pay attention to me.”

Morgan didn’t spend much time around the hockey team in her senior year—Nick’s sophomore year. The cross-country team’s strong connection to them had disappeared with the graduation of Sasha and Brendan, and any other friendships that had formed were enough for a plus-one to a party but not for either entire team to show up and wreak havoc.

Those friendships and plus-ones were more than enough, however, to get all the gossip that floated from the men’s hockey team, including Nicholas Blankenburg and his lovely, blonde, rowing team girlfriend.

“Nothing to do with you being twenty-one and on the hockey team?” she teased, combined with a gentle poke to his ribs.

He smirked, even if it was unexpected and self-disparaging, before shrugging coyly and admitting, “It didn’t hurt.”

Silence settled between them, Morgan just choosing to smile at Nick knowingly while still wishing that he’d started at UMich straight out of high school.

Nick’s eyes flickered to the door, and he said, “Hi Mom,” without any reservations, without moving an inch.

“It’s getting late,” Karin said from the doorway. “It might be time to let Morgan get ready for bed.”

Morgan knew that they were being told because Karin didn’t want them sharing a bed. If Morgan was less happy about being there, she might have been offended by the insinuation that she and Nick would get up to no good—they wouldn’t because they weren’t together. There was nothing for Karin to worry about, though, and nothing for Morgan to feel caught about because, despite being quite close to each other, they were on top of the covers, not at all touching.

Nick pulled his phone out of his pocket, then revealed the time to the two of them. It said it was nearing eleven—later than she had expected.

“It is bedtime,” Morgan conceded, rolling to plant her feet on the floor. When she was standing, she stretched out her back—they’d been lying there for a couple hours, and she didn’t realise how stiff she was until she was upright.

“I’ll see you kids in the morning. Make sure you get some sleep; it’s going to be a big day.”

“Course, mom,” Nick said, sitting up against the headboard.

They all said their good nights, and Morgan lingered for just a moment to smile at Nick. She wondered, briefly, what it would be like to stay, to curl up under the covers beside him, but let the thought go.

She ducked into the bathroom to brush her teeth and take off her makeup before she changed into her pyjamas.

Nolan passed the bathroom and stopped in Nick’s door; Morgan only saw him out of the corner of her eye, and she must have been out of sight for him because he didn’t so much as poke his head in to say goodnight.

“I kept her distracted as long as I could, but I’m really bad at rummy, bro.”

Morgan could only assume that Nick responded, but she couldn’t hear; she was a little desperate to know if he had, to know what he’d said, but couldn’t very well ambush them and ask. She kept brushing her teeth and heard Nolan’s side of their conversation, though it was just them saying goodnight to each other.

She and Nolan entered the hallway at the same time, Nolan’s eyebrows raising just a little as they crossed paths. Morgan gave no indication that she heard anything—because she didn’t, really—just said goodnight, that she'd see him in the morning.

In the many years since Morgan had had a proper Christmas celebration, she didn’t think she’d missed it. Her family had been small—her, her parents, her dad’s parents and brother—so it had never felt like the huge affair she saw amongst her friends or on television. The madness around it always felt overdramatic.

Until she saw the Blankenburgs’ Christmas Day.

Despite talking to Nick until late and then lying in bed for far too long replaying their entire conversation, Morgan was roused before eight by a lot of noise coming from downstairs. It sounded like everyone had been awake for hours, they were so rowdy.

She popped her head into the hallway to get a read on if she had the time to have a shower and ran into Nolan at the top of the stairs. He’d been trying to sneak about, judging by the caught-out expression on his face. As soon as he realised it was a very awake Morgan, he grabbed her by the wrist and shouted down the stairs.

“She’s awake!”

Loud cheers resonated from the living room.

Gathered in front of the Christmas tree was Nick’s family—his parents, his siblings and their partners—drinking Karin’s delicious hot chocolate. They were clearly waiting for her to join them before they could start, and it formed a pit in the bottom of Morgan’s stomach.

She rushed to sit beside Nick on the couch, ignoring the skip in her heartbeat at the sight of him in his robe with his hair still in brushed. Everyone was wearing their robes except for Morgan as she’d been ambushed before she had the chance to grab it.

To make up for the lack of an extra layer, she sat so close to Nick she was practically on top of him. He didn’t flinch.

Panic set in when Morgan realised they were going to be opening presents. The process of how they would be opening them hadn’t really crossed her mind, and she was met with the prospect of everybody sitting and watching as each present was opened.

Alex had been given the task of handing out presents which meant Morgan, thankfully, didn’t need to leave Nick’s side. That meant, though, that she got a front row view of him opening her present for him.

There was a very unsubtle theme to her presents—the ‘lucky golf towel’, printed golf socks and a personalised scorecard holder which she honestly had bought blindly with her fingers crossed.

She chanced a look at Nick’s face when he’d opened everything, after seeing him run his finger over the monogram on the scorecard holder, and looked away instantly because she couldn’t bear the softness with which he was looking at her.

When Alex handed her a present from Nick, Morgan frowned at the size and weight of it. She opened it carefully, doing her best to ignore Nick’s close watch.

“Nick, this is ridiculous,” she protested, seeing the Nintendo Switch packaging.

“It’s selfish,” he assured her, his arm finally wrapping around her shoulders. “We can finally play games together when we’re not in the same room.”

She thanked him in a whisper and stared down at the gift. When she lifted her eyes for half a second, she caught Nolan’s eye just long enough to register the wink he sent her way.

And still it paled in comparison to the gift labelled from Mom + Dad. The label itself was enough to make Morgan want to cry, and, when she revealed the small Louis Vuitton bag inside, she just let the tears fall.

“Now I know where he gets it from,” Morgan managed to squeak out, referencing the ridiculousness she had accused Nick of.

Karin told her there was something inside the bag—Morgan couldn’t believe there was more—and, sure enough, Morgan unzipped the bag and pulled out the second part of her gift.

She was out from under Nick’s arm, on her feet and hugging Karin in a flat second.

All because of an apron.

Morgan knew leaving Washington was going to be hard as soon as she’d arrived. Nick was nice enough to let her delay their departure as long as she wanted, though. Their early morning departure time turned to midday, and by midday it was clear they wouldn’t be getting into Columbus until later that evening.

It didn’t matter to Nick when they were driving. He’d originally wanted to be home in time to watch the game against Buffalo on the television, but a snowstorm in Buffalo meant that the game had been postponed, so they no longer had to be back by a certain time.

Just prior to lunch, Karin asked to speak to Morgan privately. Nick was just as confused as Morgan when she looked to him for a clue as to what to expect; Nolan stood beside him wearing his best you’re in trouble face.

Karin shooed the boys away when they lingered. She gestured for Morgan to sit down at the bay window and went about making some hot chocolate while she asked Morgan about if she was going to be alright to drive back to Columbus and when she was returning to work. It didn’t take a genius to work out that it was the lead up to the actual conversation, so Morgan sat patiently until Karin put mugs down on the table and sat down with her.

“I just want to talk to you about your knee.”

Morgan sighed, ignored the instantaneous ache, and nodded because she didn’t know what else she could do.

“It’s fine,” Morgan tried to assure Karin. “It’s really fine.”

Karin hummed, not at all believing it. Morgan needed to get better at lying.

“Nick mentioned that you’ve been trying to run again, and it hasn’t been going so well.”

“Not as well as I want,” she conceded. “But it’s fine. I’m fine. Really.”

“Karl and I have been talking and we know that it must be incredibly hard to get the treatment you need to get better, and it must be equally as terrifying when it’s already not worked so well—we want to give you a loan to get you the medical care you need.”

“You—what?”

Across the table, with her hands wrapped around a mug of hot chocolate, Karin didn’t look as if she’d just offered Morgan wasn’t anything life changing or even important at all. Morgan wrapped her own hands around her mug and drank out of it, the burning of her tongue barely even registered.

“I know that Nick has already offered, but I don’t blame you for saying no to that kind of offer from a friend. We wanted to offer as parents.”

Morgan didn’t tell her that Nick had briefly mentioned the idea of marriage.

She did stumble over some disbelieving thank-yous and some clarifying questions before she started to cry. She had to think about it, of course, whether or not she wanted to be indebted to Karin and Karl—be indebted to the parents of a guy who had quickly become her best friend, and if it was worth the risk of something going wrong and multiple relationships going to shit.

Karin agreed to let her have time to think about it, that nothing needed to be decided any time soon, and that the offer would not be taken off the table.

When the next questions were about the drive back and whether or not the weather was good enough for them to get back safely, it gave Morgan some time to work through it before she was faced with Nick.