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peachtree-dish · 3 years ago

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A Te Che Sei Il Mío Grande Amore

Chapter 3: Senza che tu mi dica niente tutto si fa chiaro

Luglio 01, 1969

Luca’s birthday rolled around faster than anyone expected, the day arriving with clear skies and high temperatures. Luca awoke to his mother’s voice echoing through their home as she prepared breakfast. Stretching, the fifteen-year-old shook his nonna as gently as he could to wake her. She grumbled at his attempts and swatted at his claws.

“Nonna,” he sighed, shrugging with a smile and swimming into the kitchen to greet his parents. During his time in Porto Rosso, Luca enjoyed every moment he could swimming and spending as much time in the water since he couldn’t do as much in Genoa. He, along with Giulia and Signora Mia, had snuck to the shoreline in the early hours of the morning every few weeks or so just so Luca could refresh his scales and get the nutrients he needed. It was especially necessary when the temperature had become too cold and made him lethargic and ill. Luca shook his head softly, sending bubbles rippling above him in search of the surface. Signora Mia had been just as kind as Massimo, and just as headstrong in a lot of ways. He made a silent promise to call her with Giulia to make sure she was doing well, even if he were sure nothing could fell the infamous Mia Berni.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Daniella kissed Luca’s cheek and handed him a plate full of seaweed and fish flank on his way to the table. Returning the sentiment, the youth sat beside his father and informed his parents that grandma had decided to sleep in a little longer.

“Ugh, she does this every time. MA!” Daniella shouted in frustration, only to be startled by her own mother swimming around the corner.

“You’re being dramatic, dear. I only do it when I think it will annoy you.” The elderly sea monster smiled toothily at her disgruntled daughter who muttered, “Which is every day,” and finished setting the table.

“So, how does it feel to be another year older, son?” Lorenzo floated a piece of fish to his mouth and chewed animatedly, his gaze never leaving Luca’s. Luca shrugged in response and picked at the seafood drifting across the coral table.

“Not any different than last year, honestly. I still feel like I’m fourteen, so nothing special.” He slurped the seaweed into his mouth, much to his mother’s chagrin, and instantly missed the taste of pasta.

“Fifteen is a pretty big deal, though, you’re becoming a young man and that means changes and more responsibility.”

“I hardly think now is the time to discuss any of that at the table.” Luca’s grandmother scoffed before he could reply.

“What, it’s just the basics; Longer tail and fins, not to mention attracting the pretty lady gills, eh?” Lorenzo nudged Luca in the side who nearly choked on his food and spluttered white bubbles over the table, his scales flushing darkly.

“Lorenzo!” Danielle cried, her claws slapping the table in mortification.

“What? We were around his age when we met. If I remember correctly, you thought I was quite the catch.” He batted his eyes at her, pursing his lips teasingly.

“I was young and silly; I didn’t know any better.” Try as she might, Daniella couldn’t stop the smile that threatened to break her scowl. She busied herself by shredding the fish flank and wrapping it in seaweed. Undeterred, Lorenzo lifted from his chair and leaned in closer, trying to further fluster his wife.

“Yeah, maybe, but you still accepted my courting pearl after the Spring Swim Festival.” Lorenzo pulled a reluctant Daniella out of her chair and began to lead her around the room in spins and pivots, grinning madly as she shrieked with laughter. Luca watched with a mixture of amusement and confusion, his discomfort fading as he pushed the idea of ‘lady gills’ far from his mind. When he peered at his grandma, she appeared nonplussed and continued munching on her food although a genuine smile lifted her aging scales.

“You were skinnier and more handsome then, of course, she fell for you.” Lorenzo pouted at his mother-in-law and led both he and Daniella back to the table.

“I simply grew into my man body,” He emphasized his point by sticking his gut out even farther and patted it proudly. The table burst into laughter and Luca quickly finished eating after, his stomach nearly as full as his heart.

After he finished, he turned to his mother and asked, “Is it ok if I go visit Alberto and Giulia for the afternoon?”

Daniella conceded with a content nod, “Just don’t forget about our dinner tonight at Massimo’s, we don’t want you kids to be late.” Luca agreed cheerfully and kissed each family member on the cheek before swimming out the entrance.

“Hey!” Luca turned mid swim to see Daniella at the entrance. “I love you.”

“I love you too, ma!” Grinning, Luca took off, the water gliding past him as he made his way to the surface and his friends. As he leaped through the blue waves, he imagined he was like the superhero from the newspaper comics that Giulia and Mia both read. Pointing both fists forwards, Luca broke the surface with a whoop, water streaming behind him like a cape.

When he arrived at the Marcovaldo residence, the only beings there to greet them were Machiavelli and a few of his kits, each of whom wanted his attention and brief affection. Finding some of his spare clothes in the drawers of Alberto and Giulia's shared room, Luca quickly left the house and wandered the streets, eager to find his friends. Judging from the sun, he knew the morning fishing trip had come to an end not too long before which should mean Giulia, and Alberto was out delivering. Walking through the town square, Luca waved to a few of the patrons he recognized, mentally wincing as he remembered his first attempts at greeting Porto Rosso’s patrons. If anyone had been the stupidi, it had been them.

Chuckling as he went up the city’s hill, Luca caught sight of two familiar heads of curls along with two faces he was not expecting. Tensing at the sight of Guido and Ciccio, Luca prepared himself for a fight and made to run the rest of the way before he heard laughter. Guido was laughing at something Alberto had said and lightly touched his shoulder. Somehow, the movement was worse than if he had punched Alberto instead. A dark and ugly feeling reared its head within Luca’s belly, causing his face to burn and his hands to clench. Clenching his teeth, the young sea monster marched up the cobblestone pathways, intent on not showing his discomfort.

“Ciao,” he muttered shortly, arriving beside Alberto, and instantly causing Guido to lift his hand from Alberto’s shoulder. Giulia nodded hello from her seat on the bike as Alberto wrapped an arm around Luca’s shoulder.

“Oh, hey Luca,” Alberto cheered even more so upon seeing Luca. “You remember Guido and Ciccio, vero? I helped their families in the off-season while you were away.” Luca looked at the two teens who stood abashedly in front of him and offered his hand after a moment of hesitation.

“It’s good to see you both again,” Not, he thought as he shook the brunette’s hand. Ciccio spoke up, his round features coloring.

“We realize we never officially apologized to you before you left, si? We’re really sorry about last summer, Luca.”

“Si, Ciccio, and I were very foolish and ignoranti, we hope you can forgive us, and we can start again.” Guido smiled warmly, his gaze sincere. Taking a deep breath, Luca felt his earlier feeling of… whatever it was, fading away. If Alberto and Giulia both felt they could trust these boys again, then he could follow their lead.

“Lo apprezzo. I know being around Ercole wasn’t the easiest either, it’s all water under the bridge now anyway.” He smiled genuinely this time, heartened when the two ex-henchmen immediately relaxed.

“Bah, no lie, I’m so happy to be rid of that jerk,” Guido nodded at Ciccio who nodded and twisted his hands anxiously.

“He ate so much of my family’s bread,” Ciccio whispered horrified, his gaze wide. Giulia shared a weirded-out expression with Alberto who only shook his head.

“I didn’t know your family baked,” Luca interceded, ignoring his friends’ lack of subtlety Snapping back to the present, Ciccio grinned widely showing his perfectly white teeth.

“Oh, si, Pasticcini al sale Marino is the pride and joy of Porto Rosso and my family. Our baked goods bring customers from miles around; you should see the line of people who want to buy my mother’s Sfogliatella.” He leaned in conspiratorially to whisper, “My siblings and I have been helping since we were little, so only we know the recipe.” He puffed his round chest out proudly, only to be poked by both Alberto and Guido.

“Knowing a recipe and following it correctly are two different things, Ciccio. Your batter was not very good the last time you tried to make Bombolini.” Guido teased and Alberto nodded knowingly.

“I still don’t know how you mixed up salt and sugar,” the older sea monster screwed his face in disgust, remembering how the supposedly sweet treats and mistakenly been made with copious amounts of salt. “Seriously, Ciccio, even the ocean’s not as salty as those things were.” Ciccio pouted good-naturedly as the group laughed.

“It’s still not as bad as the time Guido set the auto garage on fire,” the blond argued mildly to which said boy grimaced.

“I thought we agreed to never speak of that again; I thought my papa was going to skin me alive.”

The teens chatted a bit more and Luca began to warm up to the two boys who had hurt him so much the past year. Perhaps, he reasoned, they had been good all along and had simply needed the chance to prove themselves.

Bidding Guido and Ciccio farewell, Luca joined Alberto and Giulia as they made the rounds. Luca asked a question that had been on his mind since arriving in Porto Rosso.

“So, whatever happened to Ercole? I haven’t seen him since we’ve been in town.” Alberto placed the cash from his previous sale into the leather pouch of the cart before answering.

“Honestly, the guy kind of disappeared after the race. I think he was embarrassed enough to keep his head low for a while, but other than that, I’m not sure. Maybe he left?” Giulia thought for a moment, her gaze focused on the road ahead.

“Maybe, I don’t think he went away to university, but he could have. His family is really wealthy, so they could afford it no matter the grades he got.”

Luca kicked a pebble, his thoughts skipping back to that one word: university.

“What’s the point of grades anyway, doesn’t that, like, stress you out more?” Alberto mused.

“It certainly does for me,” Giulia huffed. She bid Buongiorno to a young mother who bought the last of their fish and both Luca and Alberto filled the empty space as they headed back down the hill.

“I think it’s mostly competition, to see who really wants to be an academico or no,” she contemplated. “Sometimes if you have really good grades, the universities will pay you to study in their schools. That happened to mama when she moved to Genoa.” Alberto winced slightly at the mention of Giulia’s mother, the story of her separation from Massimo fresh in his memory.

“I wonder if I was good enough, they’d do that for me?” Luca hummed, his eyes following the drains that spread across each building they passed.

“Well, duh, they’d be stupid not to; you’re better than good enough right now,” Alberto bumped his shoulder with a smile. Luca blushed and tossed his friend a grin.

“Hey, happy birthday by the way. It’s about time you got to my age,” the older boy winked and wrapped his arm around Luca again, causing Luca’s skin to hum with energy.

“Oh, yeah! Are you excited for tonight?” Giulia asked over her shoulder.

“Thanks, you guys, really,” Luca felt warmer with Alberto’s arm around him, and he was sure it had nothing to do with the afternoon sun. He wondered briefly if said boy could feel how hard his heart was pounding. “Should I be excited, I thought we were just having dinner?” Luca asked, brow furrowing in confusion. He twisted around to face Giulia as she pulled into the plaza and made her way towards the small coastal home. Alberto lifted his arm when Luca turned away, causing him to feel its loss.

Giulia glanced at him and grinned excitedly. “Papa saved some fireworks from the Festa Della Repubblica since we were in Genoa, and he wants to set them off for tonight.” Luca gasped and jumped in his seat.

“Santa mozzarella! Are you serious?!” He shared an animated glance with Alberto who smiled as he hopped off the cart.

“Of course! I mentioned to him how much you had enjoyed the fireworks during Vigilia di Capodanno last December. He decided that would be his gift to you this year.” Giulia locked the bike and carried their bag of earnings inside, the two boys following after her.

Inside they found Massimo at his stove, his presence filling up the majority of the room. He turned to greet them as they entered, placing a kiss upon Giulia’s curly head.

“Buon cumpleanno, Luca. May you live to see many more,” Massimo rumbled fondly, patting Luca on his checkered shoulder. Luca returned the sentiment and wrapped a short hug around the large man, his arms too small to wrap fully around him.

“Grazie, Massimo. For your wishes and for your surprise gift,” Luca pulled away while Massimo smiled happily, his eyes disappearing behind his bushy eyebrows.

“Giulia,” Massimo chided lightly, turning to his daughter who was counting out money, “I thought we agreed to keep it a secret until after dinner?” Giulia smiled apologetically.

“Scusa, papa, we were just too excited,” She and Alberto began counting the coins on the table while Massimo ushered Luca over to the stove.

“Come, Luca, you will help me prepare dinner,” Massimo handed him a bag of clams and ordered him to wash them thoroughly in the sink. Luca would be the first to admit he was not a cook, but Massimo was gentle in his orders and easily guided Luca in making a perfect pasta dinner.

Once the Paguro family arrived along with Ciccio and Guido, once again to Luca’s surprise, the night was filled with much laughter and filling food. The linguine pasta alle vongole was instantly a hit and paired nicely with the red wine Ciccio had brought on behalf of his family. To the teens’ disappointment, the adults were adamant that they were still too young for alcohol. At one moment, Lorenzo laughed so hard, he inhaled his pasta and sent part of it into his nose much to the delight of the children. After dinner, the group trouped outside with fireworks and dessert in hand. While Massimo and Lorenzo set up the fireworks near the edge of the waterline, Daniella, Giulia, and Ciccio helped serve gelato and watermelon.

With a happy sigh, Alberto nestled himself into the sand alongside Luca, happily chewing on the red-fleshed fruit. Luca’s eyelids were drooping as his body felt full and warm, accompanied by his own friend’s radiating heat. His gaze lingered as Alberto licked gelato from his lips, the cream dripping from the corner of his mouth. Forcing his eyes to look anywhere else, Luca shifted closer to Alberto. Instead, his gaze landed on his father asking animatedly about the fireworks in Massimo’s hand, the larger man looking both confused and entertained by Lorenzo’s energy.

“I know I already said it, but happy birthday,” Luca dragged his eyes back to the tanned boy next to him and smiled. He jumped slightly at the first explosion, watching in delight as the light of the fireworks made his friend’s skin glisten with multicolored hues.

“Thank you for sharing it with me,” He replied easily. Neither made comment as their arms brushed or as their hands splayed out behind them with barely any space between. Up above the merry group, bright color after bright color bloomed across a starlit sky, the stars twinkling their own delight.

#luca #pixar luca #luca fanfiction #alberto scorfano #disney #alberto x luca #giulia marcovaldo #luca 2021 #luca x alberto #my fic tag #my favorite siblings #my fish bois #mutual pining #queer fanfiction #massimo marcovaldo #Daniella Paguro #lorenzo paguro #found family #a te che sei il mio grande amore

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their-destinys-writer · 4 years ago

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Miraculous Ladybug Writer Zine: Once Upon a Season

Yes, yes, this is suuuuper late. But I still want to share it. This is a Lukanette fic I wrote for the @mlwriterzine last year. For this zine, I had the honor of being one of its mods, same as one of its writers. This one was especially special to me, because it’s a zine fully dedicated to writers, which is extremely rare, and the final result was astonishing. Huge thanks to @emzurl for making it possible.

The Start of a Song

“I can’t believe we’re here!” Rose squealed, watching the crowds enter past the security fences. “I’ve never been so close to the stage!”

“I know,” Juleka responded in her low, raspy voice. “Totally rad.”

Rose let out another squeal, grabbing her girlfriend’s hand and dragging her inside. Although there were plenty of bands playing during the Summer Music Festival, there was no artist more exciting than Jagged Stone. To which Kitty Section got tickets for in advance.

“Don’t go too far!” Luka called out, but the two girls were already out of earshot. He sighed, as a hand landed on his arm.

“I’ll help keep an eye for them,” Marinette said next to him.

“Don’t worry, we’ll keep an eye out, too,” Mylène said, coming up the other side with Ivan. “I think it’s a little late to be right in front of the stage.”

“We’ll still be pretty close,” Marinette shrugged. “C’mon, we should get close before it fills up!”

A hand wrapped around Luka’s wrist, as she dragged him towards the crowd. Meanwhile, Luka looked at their surroundings, and couldn’t help but notice something.

“Is it just me, or are there a lot of couples in this concert?” Marinette said nervously next to him.

“Huh, I hadn’t noticed,” Luka responded, as nonchalantly as possible, pretending he hadn’t just noticed the exact same thing. “I do see a lot of people, though. Anyone of us could easily get lost. Speaking of …”

He craned his neck in search of his sister, luckily finding her mere meters away. For the third time that day he reminded himself to not get too distracted by the girl still holding his wrist. As grateful as he was that the other two couples encouraged a romantic relationship between them, Luka would never want to put Marinette in an uncomfortable situation. Especially when he still didn’t know where she stood on that notion.

Instead, he tried his best to make sure his sister didn’t wander off, like he heavily suspected she would try.

“Are you okay?” Marinette asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Just making sure nobody gets lost.”

“That’s gonna be hard, Ivan and Mylène already said they’re going to the movies after this.”

Luka frowned, turning to her. “When did they decide that?”

“They told me just before you and Juleka arrived. They didn’t tell you?”

“Uh, no.”

It’s a setup, Luka instantly thought. It wouldn’t be the first time they tried leaving them alone in hopes that something would happen. However, he knew better. As much as he wished something would happen, at this point, he was starting to lose hope.

The music started, and the crowd screamed. While everyone else was concentrating on the stage, Luka couldn’t help but divert his eyes to Marinette, with her arms raised as she cheered. A smile curved his lips as the image of happiness brought joy to him. With one last wistful sigh, he turned to the stage and started cheering himself.

Jagged Stone walked into the stage, joining his bandmates with a guitar solo. The screams were louder, and the crowd started pushing to the front, every fan hoping to be closer to the rockstar. Luka tried looking at Juleka’s way again, but his vision was cut by several screaming fans.

An elbow hit his back. He turned just in time to watch a large, tall man about to push Marinette out of the way. On instinct, he grabbed her by the shoulder.

“Wah!” Marinette squawked, as she was pulled into Luka’s chest.

“Sorry,” he said, with an apologetic grin. “I figured you’d prefer being pulled than pushed towards me by that guy.”

Marinette glanced at the man now standing where she had been two seconds before.

“Oh,” she breathed, her cheeks acquiring a light shade of pink. “Thanks, Luka.”

A light caress down his chest sent shivers up his spine. Luka swallowed a large gulp before grabbing her shoulders again and turning her in the direction of the stage.

“Wouldn’t want you to miss the show,” he said.

Marinette’s attention was quickly diverted to Jagged Stone, while Luka attempted to get his cool back. While he had never been secretive about his feelings for her, something about this day felt different to him. He shook his head, in an attempt to send away the thought. He had already learned keeping hopes too high could lead to unnecessary disappointment.

And yet, he couldn’t stop looking at her.

Luka continued looking at Marinette on her toes, craning her neck as far as she could above the heads in the crowd. As amusing as it was, the young man couldn’t help but feel bad. He tapped her shoulder, catching her attention, and made a gesture of holding something over his shoulders.

“Are you sure?” Marinette asked.

“I can take it,” Luka shrugged, kneeling down. “Come on, you’ll see better.”

Although she hesitated for a moment, she quickly agreed when the crowd cheered over something she didn’t get to see. As Luka rose back to his feet, he stumbled momentarily, prompting a squawk from Marinette while she wrapped her arms around his head. Luka couldn’t help but laugh, almost losing his balance again.

“I’m gonna fall!” Marinette cried dramatically.

“I got you,” Luka assured, holding tight to her legs. “See, you’re okay. Everything’s okay.”

The young woman’s arms relaxed as she let out a sigh of relief. After several minutes, Marinette seemed to have forgotten her previous fear and gained comfort from her position on his shoulders. Unfortunately for Luka, the part of him that was not internally giddy for being so close to the girl of his dreams was regretting his decision.

Thick droplets of sweat started running down his forehead and back with the added weight, plus the scorching summer heat. Yet, he was resolute in keeping his stance. The concert was only one hour, after all.

* * *

The crowd let out its last scream as the lights turned on around them, signaling the end of the concert. Although Luka had gotten used to the weight already, it didn’t stop him from almost letting out a whine of relief when Marinette was back on the ground.

“That was awesome!” she squealed, as she made a twirl to look at him. “I’ve never had such an awesome view to—Woah, Luka, are you okay?”

“Yeah, why?” he panted.

“You’re sweating like crazy.”

Luka swiped a hand over his forehead. “Huh, look at that.” He pulled his hair back, in hopes to refresh his forehead. “Nothing a cold drink won’t fix. Right, Marinette? Marinette?”

She seemed to not hear him, her eyes trained on something above his eyes.

“Marinette?” he called again, loud enough to catch her attention.

“Ah! Sorry!” she squeaked. “Yeah, you’re hot—I mean, it’s hot! It’s very hot, something cold sounds great. Yeah, totally. We probably gotta move, where are the others?” Marinette asked, scanning the crowd.

“Dunno,” Luka muttered, searching for his phone. On the screen appeared a text message from his sister. In it, he read:

Juleka:

Sorry, we lost you in the crowd. Gonna go for some ice cream with Rose. Thank me later! ;)

He gulped. “They left already.”

“Without us?”

“They went on their own date, I guess.”

“O-Oh,” Marinette stammered. “I see … So, what are you going to do?”

“I—” He had been about to say he was going home. But it still felt much too early to do so. And he didn’t feel like spending the rest of the afternoon alone. “I think I will go for a walk.”

“Ah, I see.”

There was silence. Probably caused by Marinette’s usual indecision about saying what she wanted. Something Luka could already sense and decided to do the work for her.

“Marinette, would you like—”

“Can I join you?” she asked at the same time as him.

Luka blinked, this being the first time she barely hesitated to take the initiative with him. With a soft smile, he responded: “I would very much like that.”

* * *

After several hours and one stop for iced coffee, Luka and Marinette were walking by the edge of the Seine, lost in a melody of joyous laughter.

“Wait, you didn’t!” Luka exclaimed.

“I swear I was the only one who saw it,” Marinette laughed.

“And here I thought I was so sneaky, too.”

“Well, to be fair, I did make the costumes. I think it’s a given I would notice when there’s a piece missing.”

“It’s a good thing that show was not recorded,” Luka chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Wouldn’t want us going viral over a wardrobe malfunction instead of the music.”

“I don’t think it would’ve been so bad if it had,” Marinette responded in a sing-song tone. “Even if that had happened, it could’ve helped boost your popularity as a band. Especially with such a cute guitarist.”

Luka’s eyes widened, dead staring at her. Marinette seemed to have noticed what she said one second too late, for her cheeks turned dark red instantly. Lips pressed together, as if trying to stop them from saying something else they were forbidden from. Luka did his best to still his heart, pushing all hope aside. Just in case.

“Thank you?” he said, attempting to sound as cool as possible. And slightly failing.

“U-uh, you’re welcome?” Marinette said, just as awkwardly. “I-I mean, not that that’s all I think of you. You’re than more such—I mean, you’re so much more than that. You’re a great friend. Notthatyoucanonlybeafriend. I mean.” She took a deep breath. “I meant to say that you’re a great guy, more than looks.”

“That means a lot coming from you, Marinette,” Luka chuckled. “You don’t have to try to fix what you say with me. I know what you mean.”

“See what I mean?!” Marinette burst. “With you, I don’t have to try to explain myself. You just … You just get me! It’s so comfortable with you. And nice. And wonderful. And…”

She went silent. Again, holding back. Despite the words already spoken.

Luka placed his hands in his pockets. “You know,” he said, with a light smile, “anything you want to say, you can say it. No matter what it is, you know I’ll always listen.”

“I know,” Marinette whispered. “Some things are just hard to say.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I too think you’re an extraordinary person. But you already know that.”

“I do.” She placed a hand on his forearm, softly pulling it. It took Luka a minute to realize she was attempting to take his hand out of his pocket. He obliged as discreetly as possible. When the hand was fully out, she entwined her fingers between his.

Luka’s heart drummed louder, wondering if this was a sweet dream, or if it was as real as it felt.

“I really do,” Marinette said, looking directly into his eyes. She opened and closed her mouth several times. “I-I … I, um, I wanted to, uh, I wanted to say—”

Luka placed a finger over her lips. “You don’t have to say it. If you don’t feel comfortable with it, you don’t have to say it.”

“I want to,” she insisted. “I know you always know what I mean. But … Luka, I like you. As more than a friend.”

The air trapped itself inside his lungs. His heart was about to burst out of his ribcage. A celebratory melody rang out in his mind. He then understood why she wanted to say it: hearing the words made a world of difference. It felt different than simply suspecting. It made it real. It reminded him why he had been so forward in the first place, when he had the chance.

The hand that was still trapped in his pocket slid out, landing on her cheek. Luka couldn’t contain the excitement the words brought. He could feel a wide grin paint his face, but he didn’t care if it made him like a goofball.

“You have no idea how happy those words make me,” he said, letting out a shuddered breath and leaning to her lips.

There was a clatter on a nearby car, snapping them both out of the bubble they had built between themselves. Turning to the source of the sound, they found Rose scrambling to grab her phone that landed on the hood of a car where she seemed to have been hiding behind. Next to Rose were Juleka, Ivan, and Mylène unsuccessfully trying to take cover.

“Oh gosh,” Marinette whined, covering her face.

Luka chuckled. “You guys are not very good with the sneaking and spying.”

“I was so close,” Rose lamented, as Juleka gave her girlfriend a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

“Sorry!” Mylène waved a hand towards them. “We didn’t mean to interrupt you guys!”

“This is so embarrassing,” Marinette’s muffled voice said.

Luka looked between their friends and Marinette. He smiled and asked, “D’you wanna run?”

Marinette raised her head, with her lips in the shape of an ‘o.’ Without a second thought, she eagerly nodded. Luka grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the nearby bridge to run across it. Meanwhile, the rest of Kitty Section yelled at them to return.

“Where are we going?!” she panted.

“Wherever!” he responded, letting out a laugh. Marinette laughed too, just as eager to explore whatever it was that they had just started.

#mlwz #miraculous ladybug writer zine #once upon a season #miraculous ladybug #lukanette #marinette dupain cheng #luka couffaine

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thanksjro · 4 years ago

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More Than Meets the Eye #31 - Ammo and the Anti-Glowup

So, the Lost Light disappeared, stranding all the crew in space in their little escape pods. 200-some robots just lost their homes and worldly possessions. That’s absolutely horrible. What a devastating thing to happen.

Anyway, here’s Drift with a flashback sequence.

No hips, fingers all the exact same length, hockey pucks embedded in his forearms- Rojo, this is a crime you’ve committed. When will the long arm of the law stop your sinful, pancake-shaped hands?

About two years prior to current events, Drift, Riptide, and Pipes- yes, Pipes!- were wandering around trying to find a ship for the space yacht trip. The gang’s here to see who owns the big honkin’ ship outside. Problem is, Drift is unintentionally terrifying because he has a great deal of swords.

Now, you may say to yourself “isn’t it a bit odd that the species that has members who literally turn into guns would be nervous around a guy with swords?” This is a valid critique, until you remember that at least some of the folks who turn into guns were born that way, and Drift was very much NOT born bladed the fuck out. There’s an entire miniseries devoted to explaining this, it’s called Drift. The swords are a choice, one that he makes every day.

Drift is willing to pay an honestly absurd amount of money for the ship, if he can just find the dude with the paperwork- don’t ask where he got the money. Pipes isn’t being terribly helpful in finding them, so Riptide decides that now is the time to start practicing being proactive and pulls a Coyote Ugly.

No, no, he doesn’t.

He does climb up on a table and start yelling for the ship’s owners to reveal themselves, though. Which they do.

Now it’s time for the world-building portion of our comic issue. Let’s learn about chirolinguistics.

Drift, staying true to his Mary Sue nature, uses his near-perfect Hand skills to strike up a deal with the owners of the ship. This would be impressive, if it didn’t just look like the most convoluted hand-holding session in the friggin’ universe.

Still, Drift is rich enough to make Jeff Bezos weep with envy, so the arrangements are made and the lads go on their way, talking some mad shit about the original name of the ship as they do.

So it is revealed to us that the Lost Light is named after a festival for honoring the dead and disappeared, which makes the fact that Rewind and Chromedome were there all the more sad.

Back in the present, Megatron tells Riptide to shut up so they can figure out what the hell they’re going to do about this whole “our home and also ride has ceased to exist” situation. He’s putting an awful lot of distance between himself and the rest of the Autobots as he does it, something that isn’t lost on the more bitter people of the crowd.

But why were we even talking about the Lost Light in the first place? Not to reminisce, believe it or not. See, it’s time for Nautica to get a little panel time, and she’s going to use it to be a massive fucking nerd and explain how the quantum engines work. As she does, Ratchet notes that his hands feel funny. Must be the weight of his hand-stealing sins manifesting itself in his joints.

Nautica explains that the engines run off of improbability- it is highly unlikely, but not impossible, that the ship can reach light speed, and riding the fine line between what can happen and what can’t, results in the creation of power for the engines. If this sounds familiar, it’s because Brainstorm gave us a watered down version of this explanation back in issue #2. If it sounds familiar for a different reason, it’s because this is how the Heart of Gold runs in Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. Again, I’m not sure why it is that the British love this concept so much, but there you are.

Oh, it appears someone has a question. Let’s see what they want to know about, shall we?

…Rojo, what the fuck is this.

Our muppety friend here isn’t too keen on how much of a smarmy asshole Nightbeat is being right now, though I’d assume it actually has something to do with the fact that Nightbeat got smacked around with the pretty-boy stick while Getaway very much did not. While the two bicker- there’s a lot of bickering in Season Two- Nautica presents a theory on what happened to the ship; it went too far in the direction of “can’t” and made itself cease to be.

Megatron gives not a shit about quantum improbability, though. He only cares about how they’re going to get out of this mess. Which, y’know. Valid.

Blaster picks up a radio from Rodimus, who tells the gang that they’re to meet up on a nearby planet to regroup and figure out their next move. The call drops before he can get more than a couple Megatron-directed insults in, however. Megatron, in response, tries to be the bigger person, and almost immediately fails. We do get a headcount though, which is good, logistically speaking. This information is communicated to us by way of a splash page full of character head shots. We’ve got 20 ‘bots on board this ship.

Yep. 20. No more, no less.

As our friends approach the planet, we’re informed that it’s actually a Lectureworld- a planet devoted to the study of a single field. Except it’s actually a Smartplanet now, and it’s been privatized by the Galactic Council, so you’ve got to pay to go there. Cyclonus thinks that that’s bullshit, and I can’t help but agree. Crosscut tries to network with they guy about his play, probably because word got around that Cyclonus is rich as hell, when the lights cut out. When they come back on, Crosscut is nowhere to be found.

It’s time for a Whodunnit.

Tailgate immediately pegs Megatron as the culprit in this disappearance, and breaks out a gun over the matter. Megatron thinks that this is absolutely adorable, which only serves to further infuriate our marshmallow friend. I guess he’s still mad about the whole “I was a Decepticon for five minutes and got brainwashed over it” thing, and wants someone to pin the anger on who’s socially acceptable to hate.

Cyclonus and Ratchet both think that Tailgate’s not going about this the right way, but the guy is simply too het up to listen to them. Tailgate suggests that they lock Megatron in the engine room for the time being and-

OKAY WHO LET HIM HAVE THAT

Riptide breaks out his gun, and soon we’ve got a standoff going between the three of them. Cyclonus tries to deescalate, which makes Gears and Huffer break out their guns. Then Hound breaks out his gun, though he seems to be doing his own thing, by pointing it in Nautica’s direction.

Broski, I think that might be animal cruelty.

Megatron manages to shoot Ravage “unconscious” and catches him by the friggin’ throat, stating that he has zero idea how this guy got here. With the heat off the two of them for a moment, Megatron communicates to Ravage to play ‘possum for the time being. Ravage responds, and I wonder exactly how he’s doing that, considering I don’t think he has enough fingers to effectively utilize Hand as a language. Or fingers at all, really.

While this is going on, Cyclonus snatches the gun out of Tailgate’s hand, admonishing him for being reckless about picking his fights. Generally speaking, you don’t want to try to go toe-to-toe with a guy who’s responsible for the deaths of literal billions. Getaway swoops in to comfort Tailgate, calling him gutsy. I wonder if this will become a trend.

Swerve says a thing, as he is wont to do, and it’s made known that multiple folks have disappeared during this incredibly brief standoff.

Wow, Chromedome just fucked off, huh? He wasn’t even in that sequence, just left.

Everyone’s positively baffled by the current happenings. There doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to who’s being taken. I guess we’ve got a mystery on our hands.

And who better to solve a mystery than a detective?

Nightbeat wrangles all the leftover folks into a corner of the room, so they can figure out what the common denominator is with all the disappearees. He starts with the easy stuff.

And by “easy”, I mean the super-special racism Tyrest subscribed to.

If you’ve read Eugenesis, you know that Nightbeat was also part of the first wave of cold-constructed bodies there. However, the general populace wasn’t nearly as chill about it as they were in IDW. Also, Wheeljack was his dad. No word on if that particular tidbit made it into IDW lore.

It’s at this point that we learn about M.T.O.s- made to order soldiers. They were cold-constructed ‘bots created en masse during the war in order to keep up with the demands for troops. Pretty fucked up, if you think about it, being born to die like that.

Now where have we heard that name before…

Chromedome, can your love life not be part of the plot for five minutes, my guy?

Nautica makes the honestly horrific claim that a lot of folks owe their existence to Megatron being a warmongering fuck, and even Megatron himself seems rather uncomfortable with the idea. Some thoughts we keep to ourselves, Nautica, even if they might be technically true. And even if Ammo wants to tack on his two cents on the matter.

What did they DO to you, Ammo? You’re supposed to be hot! Where are my three-paragraphs of description as Hound stares slack jawed the entire time? I miss Polyhex Wars.

Anyway, it’s Megatron’s turn to get poked with the questioning stick, and he’s not having it. He claims that by revealing his mode of creation, he’s risking a repeat of Functionist ideology. This would be valid, if people weren’t literally disappearing without any sort of explanation as to why. As it is, he’s being a stubborn asshole, but I guess he didn’t get his reputation by being a decent person who knew when to back down, now did he?

It’s at this point that Ratchet remembers he knows all the info Nightbeat’s looking for, and the conversation on Megatron’s birth is shelved for another day. I’m sure it won’t be a major plot point later, not in the slightest.

As it turns out, Nightbeat’s theory doesn’t hold water, and folks are still popping out of existence. We get another splash page, this time with everyone’s mode of creation listed under their names, and we move on to other theories about what the fuck is going on. While Nightbeat has a minor crisis over what the answer could possibly be, the MTOs in the group reminisce on the Ten-Step Program, a series of tests they were put through to make sure they worked well enough to get handed a gun and shoved out the door. Riptide wasn’t a fan.

Riptide has more wood panelling than a 70’s-style ranch house, and I think that’s very brave of him.

It’s at this point that Ratchet remembers it’s been quite a bit since he last shat on religion, and takes the time to do so while informing the reader about Information Creep. This is a concept we’ve seen mentioned previously, during Chromedome’s runaround in Overlord’s brain, but it’s here where we get the juicy implications.

Because memories can become corrupted in the brain due to extreme age, what ought to be objective fact has to be reinterpreted due to missing pieces. This is why nobody knows what the Knights of Cybertron got up to, or if they’re even actually real at all.

The lights go out again, and when they cut back on, Cyclonus is missing, leaving only his sword behind. Tailgate is extremely distraught by this, but Nightbeat gives not a fuck about Tailgate’s impending breakdown. He only cares about the truth!

And then a giant eyeball shows up.

It’s Ultra Magnus, coming to us live from his shuttle, via holomatter avatar! He shrinks down to a far more reasonable size, in a panel reminiscent of the first time IDW readers saw Megatron.

Don’t get me wrong, this is a neat parallel, I’m just… not terribly sure why it’s happening. One could say it reflects a reversal in power dynamics, but that theory gets tossed out the window when you remember that this isn’t actually Verity. I suppose it’s just a cool little thing.

Because the comms aren’t working, Ultra Magnus has been forced to use this avatar to communicate with the folks in the Rod Pod. Megatron asks just what the hell is going on, but unfortunately Magnus isn’t sure either. Then his shuttle disappears, and it’s bye-bye grunge girl Magnus.

It’s at this point that Nightbeat decides it’s time to stop pussyfooting around and get serious. He tells Ratchet to throw HIPPA directly in the garbage and write down everything he knows about the Autobots who crewed the Lost Light. And he does mean everything, as we get the splash page again, this time with lots of neat info on our friends, including spark type.

Spark types will become plot-relevant in the storyline after this, but for now let’s focus on some weird gender essentialism that got slapped into the first print of this issue.

As we know very well by this point, Transformers as a franchise has a tumultuous relationship with the idea of women existing. You would think that the awkward introduction of other genders we got in “Dark Cybertron” would have been the end of things being weird in IDW. However, you would be wrong.

In an effort to explain why genders exist, Roberts had the idea to make it spark-based. Nautica, in the solo print of this issue, has an estriol-positive spark. Estriol is a type of estrogen, which is the hormone that develops and maintains feminine secondary sex characteristics, when present in certain levels, in conjunction with other hormones. Biology

This “spark = gender” idea is, generally speaking, not a great idea to be presenting us with, especially when the writer is a cishet male, because it implies biological essentialism- the idea that a personality trait/quality of a person is innate and predetermined by their biology, as opposed to social, cultural, or individual experiences. Because this story doesn’t exist in a vacuum, it’s irresponsible to reduce the experience of being a woman to a single, physical, unchangable asset, especially when all other assets of the same class have zero effect on one’s gender identity. You don’t exactly see many nonbinary robots running around, now do you? And there are definitely more than two spark types, despite the Transformers as a species being... very binary.

It also makes female Transformers into an “other”, which is a problem that has existed from the very start of the franchise, in some form or fashion, and really doesn’t need to be perpetrated anymore than it already is.

The estriol spark type was removed in the trade edition, and Roberts has expressed regrets over its inclusion, having realized that it was potentially offensive.

Getting back to the story, Swerve, Tailgate, and Ratchet have disappeared, though Ratchet seems to have left his hands behind. His stolen, Pharma-original hands.

That’s still fucked up to me. I don’t think it’ll ever not be fucked up.

Riptide reveals the reason that he wasn’t in Season One of MTMTE was because when he went back to grab a receipt for the ship two years prior, he’d discovered that the original owners were worshipers of Mortilus, Cybertronian god of death, and knew about the nasty little problem that was the sparkeater from the first storyline. When Riptide went to confront them about it, they beat him up so bad he was unconscious for two solid days.

Which is a long-ass time to be unconscious. That might have been a coma, Riptide. Jesus, I hope someone got him to a hospital after this beatdown happened, or at least scraped him off the floor.

With this last piece of the puzzle, we finally have the common denominator in this big ol’ mystery. Everyone who disappeared was on the Lost Light when it took off from Cybertron in issue #1, and everyone left behind- Skids, Getaway, Nightbeat, Nautica, Megatron, and Ravage- didn’t join until afterwords.

Of course, having the answer doesn’t do us much good when everyone is still missing, and Megatron seems to agree with me, because he’s about to throw hands, when Nautica lets them know that they’ve arrived at the rendezvous. Problem is, so has something else.

...

I’m sure it’s fiiiiiiiiiiiiine!

#transformers #jro #MTMTE #issue 31 #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #incoming analysis #overthinking about robots #comic script writing

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drrealityslenderverse · 3 years ago

Text

Winter/Christmas/New Years Headcanons

Like the Thanksgiving ones, this is basically before MH!

Alex:

Busy. He's trying to find his gf the perfect gift and keep it a secret.

He also has to travel to see his family and Amy's.

He's a pretty social guy but even this is draining to his social battery. Definitely will need some time to recover.

Please don't mention New Years. He just wants to relax without worrying about those plans.

He enjoys filming the events more than participating.

If it happens to be cold enough for snow you better believe he's staying inside!

Okay, he might go out in it but only for a little bit; Rocky likes playing in it. (and yes, he does like taking cute pics/videos of his dog).

He also likes to bake cookies with his gf. It's a fun bonding time for both of them.

For New Years he likes to spend the day as just him and Amy, as he's usually still resting from the events earlier in the week.

They'll watch the ball drop on the TV and drink a little

Once his friends are back on campus they'll have their own get together to catch up on how their breaks were.

Brian:

Goes to see his family and typically stays until New Years/until winter break is over.

Doesn't invite Jay or Tim like he does for Thanksgiving. He doesn't think they'd appreciate being stuck there the whole time, especially Tim.

He does however get his friends small gifts before he leaves.

Will message them to wish them a happy holiday/new years

Takes this time to visit his older sister's grave and leaves some flowers and something festive.

Did someone say snow!?

If it snows he will drag as many people outside as possible.

Loves snowball fights and can get a little competitive.

His family will often be playing games all New Years eve up until the ball drops.

After that they'll slowly start heading to bed.

He's always very excited about returning to campus to see his friends and celebrate the new year with them (even if it is a little late to do so).

Ethan:

Nothing too extravagant planned for the season... he claims.

Was the person who put up decorations right after Thanksgiving.

You can thank his gf for holding him off on playing holiday music until it was actually December.

Mistletoe is his favorite decoration.

He mostly just does something small with Emma and then goes to see her family.

Usually doesn't see his parents during this time but they'll send a gift or two in the mail along with a card.

Christmas with his parents growing up was actually really fun. They had a lot of money so he almost always had the newest games and anything else he'd wanted (he's honestly glad they stopped spoiling him so much after they retired).

Dislikes the cold, especially if it ends up snowing. He'd never survive living in northern states.

Will still go out in the snow if it makes the others happy.

Will throw a party at some point but it's more to celebrate New Years than anything else (and really just an excuse to have a party).

He'll plan it around his friends' schedules to make sure as many can make it as possible. The more the merrier!

Ash:

Stays home with the cat and doesn't really celebrate the holiday.

She might go visit her cousin but otherwise this time is pretty quiet for her.

Yes, she does get her cat something, usually treats or a new toy with catnip.

Her family used to be more into celebrating it but she's basically the only one left aside from Ethan (and his parents but they're far away).

It's sort of a relief honestly—especially when her aunt/uncle would try to spoil her as a kid like they did Ethan.

She usually spends the day of Christmas eve with Ethan for some family bonding.

If it actually manages to snow she'll go out in it, maybe have a snowball fight, go for a nice walk, or something.

Is the type of person who would eat ice cream when it's cold/snowing out. (even if they don't get as much as the northern states)

She's aware people think it's boring she doesn't do much special but she's fine with it.

On New Year she tends to go out and stay out late. She doesn't do anything, mostly just finds a nice quiet area to chill in and watch the sun come up.

Tim:

He's pretty much by himself for the holidays as most of his friends are away with family.

He's good with it. It gives him time to relax without worrying about things. It wasn't like he celebrated much as a kid either.

His parents usually did visit him in the hospital though if it didn't mess with his treatments.

Honestly gets embarrassed about receiving gifts but really does appreciate them and tries to find things just as meaningful to give his friends in return.

Usually treats himself to something. One year it was a ukulele, though he's still trying to learn how to play it.

He does indeed have ugly sweaters that he'll wear with his friends. Sometimes they'll even have contests.

He'll wear the sweaters around the house too just for his own amusement and enjoys drinking eggnog.

Doesn't complain about going out in the snow, they don't get a lot if any.

His favorite thing to do during the winter season is to chill with friends (when they aren't busy) and just enjoying the season.

Otherwise it's life as normal... it can be a little lonely though.

New Years isn't much better but he does look forward to his friends coming back.

Jay:

To be honest he isn't thrilled about going home for this holiday.

It's sort of a mix between a family reunion and Christmas so there are a lot more people.

Once again, he tries to stick to watching the kids and helping them figure out their presents rather than interacting with the rest of his family.

He doesn't need any of his distant relatives asking when he's going to get a girlfriend again (spoiler alert: never. He's into Brian guys).

New years is a much more enjoyable time than Christmas.

He likes watching the ball drop on the tv with his parents and will usually talk/text his friends for a while after to virtually celebrate with them.

Usually he only messages Alex and Brian though since he doesn't really know Tim well enough to have his number.

To be honest when they get snow he likes to make the most of it (even if there isn't a lot on the ground)

He likes making snowmen and sometimes challenges himself to make the smallest one possible or the largest one possible.

Zac:

Not close to his family so he doesn't go out of his way to visit them or get them anything.

They usually don't even mail each other cards or call to check in.

He's probably not going to have time anyway unless he can get off work.

He usually gets the holiday itself off but given he travels around that doesn't necessarily give him a lot of time to go see his family anyway.

His job has him working outside a lot so colder weather or even snow isn't something he enjoys.

Loves all the junk food choices available during this time of year.

Always gets something for Ash. Nothing expensive but he feels bad she's basically alone and totally not for any other reason.

Another reason he loves this time of year is all the new video game releases! He'll be playing them at every free moment.

New Years? Wow, is it midnight already? He was too wrapped up in a game to know.

Is very disappointed when he has to get back on his regular sleep/work schedule.

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arknights-imagines · 4 years ago

Note

For the Christmas thing can you do SilverAsh. hope you have a nice day! merry early Christmas

From, SilverAsh

Christmas Letter and Gift event

It's Christmas Day where I am, so Merry Christmas avshvsvs! ☃️🥺 SilverAsh's letter seems to be the most anticipated one considering I got so many requests for him shsjbss so I hope you all like it 🥺👉👈 Tysm to all of you for everything so far! 🥺😭 I'll make a more formal thank you post later on 🍡 for now, please enjoy the letter 🌸

- A very jolly Exe ☃️

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

You wake up just as the sun rises; rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you move to separate yourself from your covers in order to dress yourself for the day when your eyes are drawn to the snow-blanketed view of the RIIC main deck from outside your window.

Surprise paints your face for a moment when you notice Operators and staff alike frolicking outside in the snow, filling the air with mirth - and then you remember, ‘it’s Christmas Day.’

The realisation causes a smile to come to your face as a wave of cheeriness invigorates you. But then you reach toward your nightstand to grab something, you instead discover a lustrous silver envelope, propped up against the various items occupying the top of the nightstand. Pausing, your brow quirks up and you slowly take the envelope into your hands.

The envelope is devoid of any words or stamps, so the only way to figure out who it’s from is by opening it - and you do just that. The stark white paper you find inside of the envelope feels cold to the touch, but even so; when your eyes come to the familiar thin penmanship all over the page, your heart swells with warmth.

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

Ever dearest [name],

Sleep well, my dear? I sincerely hope so, as today is a rare occurrence that should be cherished while it’s here. In order to participate in Christmas festivities, you of course need to be well rested.

Christmas morning...what every child seems to anticipate from the first sight of snow. In Kjerag, Holiday celebrations are quite ostentatious; as expected, considering we bear the title ‘the Snow Realm’. But what’s more curious is that Christmas and its heartening traditions have persevered even in a world as wartorn as ours. Seldom is Rhodes Island a jubilant place, but that seems to have changed for Christmas.

To me, Holidays have always held little to no meaning. After my parents died, my sisters and I didn't gather together to celebrate the Holidays in the slightest; I have attended formal Christmas balls and traditional ceremonies out of obligation, but the last time I received or sent a gift feels like centuries ago. I believed my Christmas evenings were best spent dealing with business affairs for Karlan Trade Co., and so if you ever wished to find me on Christmas Day, a wise decision would be to go straight to my office.

However, outside the windows of my office and on the bright illuminated streets, revelers would dance and carolers would sing; though I never wished I was there celebrating alongside them, it was still quite the heartening sight. The Holiday experience in Kjerag truly is the epitome of Christmas and its spirit. Someday I’d like to take you there; I’ve never quite cared for the Holidays much, but I’m convinced that with you by my side, I’ll find myself enjoying Christmas and its celebrations more than I originally anticipated.

My apologies, my dear. I’ve long since strayed from my original topic. I suppose my thoughts are not as organized as I thought.

All beginning with my contract with Rhodes Island, or more well expressed - all beginning with the day you and I crossed paths, many things have changed. The day we met….my dear, has it really been that long? The calendar tells me so, but my heart does not. I suppose it is as they say; when you’re with your beloved, time flies.

To call you my beloved is in truth an understatement; [name], you may be that, but you are so much more. You encapsulate warmth so effortlessly, and you somehow imbue that warmth into someone as shrewd as myself. Through you, I have learned to understand compassion, and I have gained something to fight for. I never thought I would ever find someone to love in the way that I love you...but alas, here we are, my dear.

I’m well aware many hours of my day are spent with you, with working hours and leisure time melded together, and occasionally I am blessed with being able to spend the night with you. But quite simply...it’s never enough. I understand how that may sound, but it's how I feel in my heart.

Every moment you are gone, you occupy my thoughts, especially during this season of Christmas; My dear...the time we have together is not as long as it may seem. This world, with its catastrophes and its ruined society, can take either of our lives whenever it may like. As such, I wish to spend as much time as I can with you during the holidays.

As per Christmas tradition, I’ve purchased a gift for you. I have gifted you many things, though I feel this one is special. I choose it with only you and I in mind; no thoughts about outside things distracting me.

[Name], my dear; I love you, more than you can fathom. My affections toward you come without any conditions; toward you, I never have, and will never have ill intentions or ulterior motive. Some may persuade you to believe otherwise, but should that ever happen, remember this letter and what I’ve expressed through it.

I have more to tell you, but perhaps I should save that for when we see each other, which I hope will be very soon. Well then, my dear, I only have one last thing to ask of you; linger in the moments we spend together. Visit me to wish me goodnight before you go to bed, stay with me a few seconds longer when it’s time for us to part, forget your jacket in my room and return for it later.

Come meet me when you can today; I’ll wait for you, my dear. Perhaps this may come as unceremonious, but - from today and onward, my heart is yours, [name]; do what you will with it.

Yours eternally,

Enciodas

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

A effusive, unrestrained smile paints your lips as you read the last line of the letter. SilverAsh’s every word is enough to cause warmth to explode in your chest; such sincerity and tenderness from him is reserved solely for you.

Your eyes are once again drawn toward your nightstand, where you this time notice the rectangular box on its top; its colour identical to the envelope, white decorative ribbon ties the box closed. You reach over and retrieve it quickly, eager to see what SilverAsh has gotten you. The box feels weighted in your hands, and upon ridding the box of the ribbon and lid, your gaze falls on a delicate, beautifully-carved sculpture of marble.

It’s so detailed that almost immediately, you recognize the two figures embracing as SilverAsh and yourself; it's a sculpture of you and him. Your features and his are captured with impressive perfection, and the marble feels smooth and cool against your fingers once you remove it from the box.

A sculpture of such degree almost screams wealth, but because of its rather petite size and simple pale colour, it executes a bold yet warm message while not being unsightly to the eye. You smile down softly at the small sculpture of SilverAsh and yourself, then you glance back at the giftbox.

The last thing left in the box is a slip of paper with SilverAsh’s thin penmanship creating lines of words on its surface. ‘Merry Christmas, my dear. I had this sculpture commissioned by a very well known artist in Kjerag; quite captivating, isn't it? Even so, even the most beautiful art pieces cannot compete with you.’ You pause for a moment - attention drawn to your window once more. Your eyes widen slightly when you notice that a familiar, fluffy-eared figure has joined the ever growing crowd outside.

SilverAsh. He stands with his sisters, watching as his fellow Operators launch snowballs at each other and stumble in the snow; then his eyes meet yours. Even from your room so far away, you catch his expression as his lips fall agape, then a charming smile comes to his face. You're unable to stop yourself from grinning back - you quickly read the last sentences of the note, ‘[Name], even if you must work today, at least spare a moment to smile at me, won't you?’ Then, like a child rushing to their Christmas tree to open gifts, you waste no time grabbing your coat and hurrying out the door, knowing SilverAsh awaits you with a warm smile, ‘Even that smile alone would be a suitable enough Christmas present for me.’

#merry christmas everyone 🥰🎄#arknights #arknights imagines #arknights silverash #arknights x reader #silverash arknights #christmas event #arknights imagine #arknights fanfic #arknights fanfics #arknights writing #imagine #imagines #writing

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mae-gi-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Kevin Frost | Kevin Moon (The Boyz)

Summary ❄ Being sick every winter sucks, until winter itself decides to bring itself to you in the form of Kevin Frost.

Genre ❄ fluff, fantasy, inspired by Jack Frost (as per my beautiful @nyuwings request)

A/N ❄ for my lovely @nyuwings with whom I’ve bonded with so quickly I keep wondering whether we’re soulmates. Thank you for your presence and for just being you. Ily. ❤

° . · ❄ · . °

Sighing for the nth time, you placed your hands up against the window, palms turning icy cold as you took in the array of snowflakes floating to the ground. It was that time of the year again, a time that signified celebration as the town of Sleva would get covered in a blanket of what your brothers liked to call fairy dust. Snow would bathe the entire streets white and would glimmer in the light of the street lamps lining the streets. You could already spot the Christmas lights in variants of red and green and yellow gold strung across the main intersections, probably where the Christmas market would be. Right about that time merchants would line the streets with their wooden carts, shouting out about all the fresh sausages and special meats they’d offer for a good price for the festive season.

You knew Christmas season like the back of your hand. It was ironic then, that you were the only person not allowed out whenever Christmas and winter came around.

“You’re sick,” your mother had scolded you once when you had mustered up the courage to ask her why you were the only one being left behind, “you’ll die if you go out in the snow.”

And it was true. Your lungs were small, pea-sized, as the doctor had mentioned at one of your checkups. It was about the same time when you started asking questions, curiosity finally picking away at your logic. Going out in the snow and allowing your body to suffer the cold would deliver a fatal blow to your nervous system.

He had not, however, told your parents to keep you locked in like a prisoner that would instantly face death the moment you caught wind of cold. But while your parents had taken dramatic measures to keep you tightly tucked in warmth until summer came around once more, you’d like to think that it was more of an exaggeration as an extension of their concern for your well-being, and not the actual truth.

So that was why you were sitting like the pathetic picture that you were, staring out at the countless other people trudging through snow and laughing as they made up snowballs and built snowmen in their driveways. You wondered briefly what your friends were up to, knowing full well from their recounted stories that at this time of year they’d flock to the bars to catch glimpses of the beautiful young men, soldiers and men from military that would come home from their basecamps on these special occasions.

“We can sneak you out!” One of your friends exclaimed the first time you had explained the real reason as to why you could barely set foot outside, “And we’ll bring you home before your parents wake up.”

You shook your head though, politely denying their requests as your heart ached, “it’s fine. You guys have fun.”

“We’ll find a nice catch for you, Y/N,” another winked at you and you plastered a smile on your face right up until they had turned the corner.

You had cried yourself to sleep that night.

So there you sat every day and night, surprised that your butt hadn’t made an indentation on the chair yet as the sound of your mother’s cooking echoed up the stairs. The attic was where you liked to spend most of your time. It was a place where you could be at peace with yourself and enjoy your own company, the silence that came with it filling your mind with nothing but serenity.

Something flashed across the window.

Probably a snowball, you thought to yourself as you rubbed your eyes. The smell of your mother’s famous dumplings wafted through the attic room and you sniffed the air, stomach growling in anticipation. There was bound to be a feast on Christmas eve. It was a tradition your family never missed out.

A group of children were busy building a snowman in the yard opposite yours and snuggling a little closer to the window, you pulled your blanket tighter around your frame as you watched them, giggling amongst themselves, while sticking the carrot to form its nose.

Another flash. So fast and blurred that you cried out in shock and almost toppled over from your seat.

Blinking, you stared long and hard at what you thought you had seen. If you weren’t mistaken, you swore that it had looked a lot like--

“Hello!”

You screamed, toppling over for good this time. You landed on your butt and must’ve caused a ruckus for your mother’s voice to float up questioningly, “Y/N? Are you okay?”

“Fine!” you cried back without tearing your eyes away from the window.

A boy gazed back at you with amusement glimmering through his eyes. No, not a boy. More like a young man in his twenties, maybe about the same age as you were.

And he was floating.

You opened your mouth only for the words to choke the back of your throat. You coughed instead and didn’t realize that the said young man had propped open the window until you heard him ask, “you good there? That was quite a fall--”

Rushing to clamp a hand over his mouth, you hurriedly looked back towards the staircase. Thank god it seemed like your mother was so engrossed in her cooking and you sighed in relief, before realizing that you were a little too close to the said stranger.

Pulling away quickly and tugging your blanket over your frame, you hissed out, “who are you?” in a tone that you hoped was threatening enough for him to understand you were not here to make friendly conversation. If anything, he was a stranger and he was weird.

But either he was used to people’s rude demeanour or he just didn’t care, for he merely brushed some snow out of his raven coloured hair before settling himself on the window frame more comfortably. He had a wooden cane gripped tightly in his left hand and his feet were left bare. You wondered briefly whether he was cold.

“My apologies for barging in without introductions,” his voice was melodic, smooth, “my name is Kevin Frost. I’m...winter?”

Your eyebrows dipped into a frown, “excuse me?”

“I’m winter personified. Kind of like a guardian, weather guardian. In my case, guardian of winter,” he lifted his cane as if proving a point. Except, what was so special about it? It just looked like a tree branch he’d picked up along the way, “I’m responsible for the snow, I guess?”

“You guess?”

This guy was crazy.

It seemed like he read your mind, for he sighed and threw you a sympathetic look, “you don’t believe me.”

“You end your statements like they’re questions. How am I supposed to be convinced by that?”

Kevin lifted his hand at your words and as he twirled his fingers through air, a wisp of snowflakes suddenly danced along his knuckles as if by magic. Blinking in astonishment, your jaw fell open without warning and he chuckled, “close your mouth, sweetheart. You might catch a fly.”

You snapped your mouth shut, “there are no flies in winter,” you muttered through narrowed eyes while crossing your arms over your middle, “so say what you’re saying is real...What does that mean?”

“That I control winter, kinda. I come around every year when the season rolls around.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because the world needs winter,” he scoffed as though you had asked the most stupidest question, “without winter, the cycle would be broken.”

“Well, you can take your winter and use it elsewhere.”

He looked at you for a second too long that you couldn’t help but shift uneasily under his darkened gaze, “What?” you asked, though averting your eyes at the sudden change in his demeanour.

“You don’t like winter.”

He said it like a statement. Without question. Confident that what he told was the truth.

And he was right.

“What?!” it was his jaw that fell open this time, “so what? You’ve never touched snow before?”

“I don’t,” you answered.

"Why not?"

Biting the inside of your cheek, you said, “I...my health isn’t the best during winter. I can’t go out.”

You shook your head and his eyes grew even wider if that was possible, so baffled by your statement that he almost dropped his cane, “Oh that is really shitty.”

“Oh yes,” your eyes glued themselves to the floor, “that’s me.”

The silence that followed made your heart drop. Why were divulging your darkest thoughts to a mere stranger? And one that climbed through windows and could weld snow like it was as easy as breathing?

But Kevin’s hand reached out, palm open and facing upwards as his face softened. It was almost like he understood what it felt like to be different, deprived from something that everyone else could enjoy, “I think I can help with that.”

“Uhm,” your eyes were skeptically analyzing the small wisps of cold air surrounding said hand, “I don’t think that’s the answer--”

“Just trust me.”

“You’re a stranger.”

“And I’m the only way you can enjoy winter.”

Maybe it was the truth that rang through his words despite barely knowing him, or maybe it was the idea of finally being free of the bodily chains that held you down and just out of reach of the unknown. But one look at the dark obsidian orbs that swam with nothing but an open invitation was enough to make you reach out, hand gently placing over his and shuddering slightly at the icy coldness of his fingers.

"Allow me,” he murmured as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder before tugging you with him. And before you knew it, you were tumbling out of your window and into open air as you whipped along with the wind that carried you forward, over the houses, over the cityscape bathed with snow with Kevin’s hold tightening every so slightly on your frame.

A gust of wind blew in your direction and your shoulders tensed, readying yourself to feel the air nip at your skin and skittle across your clothes with those icy fingers.

But nothing. Nothing but a soft warmth that slowly spread through your limbs, almost as though you had sat by a warm campfire with a mug of warm hot chocolate. Your eyes shot up to meet Kevin’s, who only grinned at you with playful mischief.

“Told you that you’d be safe with me, didn’t I?”

With that, he swooped you along, the edge of your dress skimming the top of houses. You didn’t realize you were yelling in delight the higher you went as your legs dangled. Tingles shot down your spine and into your feet as you looked down at the ground, butterflies roaming your stomach in a mixture of fear and excitement.

“Oh!--” the air stuck in your throat the moment you spotted the Christmas market, “Is that--Is that the Christmas market?!”

His chuckle grazed your ear, “sure is.”

“And that’s the church! Oh my gosh--It’s so pretty!” Gasping at the wondrous sights that appeared before you like a movie you’ve been dying to watch, you can’t help but tear up in blind joy. This, this is what you’ve been missing out on all this time? You couldn’t believe it; how magical it all was, how authentically beautiful and breathtaking. It was almost like looking into a snow globe. Untouchable.

“Are you--Are you crying?” the panic laced in Kevin’s voice made you burst out laughing as you felt the ghost of his hand swiping at your cheek. It felt weird hanging in mid-air being too close to a man -- or could you call him a man? -- that was currently wiping away your tears like it was the most mundane occurrence. But at this point you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“No I’m just--It’s beautiful. I--I can’t believe I’ve been missing out on all this,” you spluttered out, chest tight with emotion, “why hasn’t anyone ever told me?”

“Well to be fair, we are above all humans,” his murmur was so close to your ear that you turned out of curiosity, only to swallow hard at the closeness of your faces.

You looked away, “and you’re not human?”

You sensed his hesitation, “...not exactly.”

“Then what are you?”

Another round of silence as he struggled to give a coherent answer. Something told you that you weren’t going to be fond of all that he had to say.

“It’s complicated.”

You didn’t fight him, knowing full well that it would provoke more questions than provide you answers. He tugged you along silently over the house chimneys, allowing you to ogle at the arrays of food merchants littering the streets and settling you atop one of the roofs to enjoy a live show of musicians in Sleva’s Square. Curiosity burned at the tip of your tongue whenever you caught yourself looking at him for a second too long. But it seemed like your earlier conversation had dulled the light in his eyes and you decided it was best to keep your mouth shut, instead focusing on clapping along to the sound of merry jingles floating through the air.

It was past midnight when Kevin deposited you at your window sill, gingerly settling your feet onto the ground as you allowed your eyes to find his own dark orbs reflecting the dim light of the attic.

You licked your lips that had run dry from the slow ebbing warmth of Kevin’s presence, “thank you, for today.”

His grin was contagious, for you felt your own lips tug into a smile, “you’re welcome, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t help the blush from spreading up your neck at the little pet name that he had garnered, “so who’s the next lucky lady then?” you were quick to change the subject, “you can’t tell me I’m the only who gets to ride along with Kevin Frost.”

He smirked and you swore your heartstrings tugged. Reaching up with his hand, he proceeded to tuck your hair behind your ears and only grinned a little wider when your face flushed.

“You are,” he whispered, and with another cold gust of wind, he was gone before you could utter another word.

° . · ❄ · . °

Kevin Frost’s presence was starting to become a constant in your life that winter, dropping by on numerous occasions throughout the day and night as he kept you company. He entertained you with stories of his day; how he’d helped a few children ice skate by freezing the entire lake over, or how he’d made it snow a little harder for others to get enough snow to finish off their snowman.

Sometimes, he would whip up some Christmas creations in your attic itself and wrap you in his arms as he danced along to the snowflakes cascading from your ceiling. He’d hum to a few Christmas tunes as you went, stepping onto his feet and him on yours because-- you’d realized shortly after -- that he wasn’t as such of a good dancer as he claimed he was.

Most nights though, he’d make it a must to fly you to one of the rooftops to enjoy the scenery. You would huddle closer for warmth, your blanket heavy on your shoulders and his arm around you keeping you heated while you exchanged stories of your past and childhood. In exchange he would recollect where he’d come from; how his earliest memory had started from the moment he’d fallen out of an icicle in the North Pole and how, from that day onwards, he’d fly around the world to provide snow when it was necessary.

“So that means you’ll be gone once spring comes around?” you couldn’t help the words that slipped from your mouth. Coughing a little, you nestled closer out of instinct. For some reason, you had been a little weaker these past few days, reason being the numerous secret outings after dinner time. Not that you had mentioned that to your mother when she’d commented on your physical state. That was recipe for disaster.

"My duty will lie elsewhere when that time comes."

"I notice you always talk in riddles whenever you don't want to say things that will hurt people."

He glanced at you, maybe out of shock or maybe just because he already knew how you'd picked up on his habits in the few days that you had spent together.

When he spoke next, his voice was a raspy whisper, “I don’t like hurting people.”

"Don’t avoid my question, Kevin Frost.”

The words hung between you like a cold breath of winter. Kevin’s skin was warm and yet, your fingers felt numb from gripping one of the roof tiles too hard.

“Yes,” he pressed his lips together, “I’ll be gone. Until the next winter season.”

“So you’re leaving me.”

“I never said I was going to stay.”

The words stung like bees, as though someone had reached into your chest for the sole purpose of squeezing your heart until it pinched with pain.

He must’ve regretted his outburst, for in the silence that followed there was a soft mumble of his apology.

"And you said you didn’t like hurting people,” you scoffed and saw him wincing from the corner of your eye, “that’s exactly what you’re doing.”

Gathering up your skirts and wrapping the blanket a little tighter around your shoulders when you felt a gentle whoosh of the winter air scald your skin, you muttered, “I’d like to go home now.”

The fly back was laden with a heavy silence that pressed down on your throat and made your eyes burn with the onset of tears, though you refused to cry for him. You knew, deep down, that he’d be gone in the blink of an eye. He wasn’t the personification of winter for nothing and it ultimately wasn’t his fault for leaving you.

He wasn’t to blame.

It was just a matter of unleashing your own frustrations because you were going to miss him. More than he could imagine.

The moment your feet touched the wooden edge of your window sill, you fought the urge not to turn around and bury yourself into his arms. He grasped your hand, the other around your waist as he helped you inside like he always did, except this time your heart skipped a beat despite the small pang of pain resonating through your chest.

“Y/N,” came his murmur the moment your feet touched your attic floor. You turned around reluctantly, heart collapsing the moment you caught sight of the glistening wetness in Kevin’s dark orbs.

“I--” he took a shaky inhale, stepped towards you until you were close enough for your feet to touch, “I never wanted you to get attached, nor did I want to get attached...to you.”

Your head angled to the floor as you bit your lip, not wanting him to see how much you were breaking inside.

"Oh come here sweetheart,” and that was when his arms laced around your middle to pull you close, a movement so surprising that it made you gasp. Your hands flew to his chest to push him away, only for him to hold on a little tighter and nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck. Your heart felt like it had suddenly been ignited with fireworks, heat coursing through your veins at the sudden display of affection that left you lightheaded.

“I don’t like seeing you unhappy,” his whisper echoed through your ear and as if on impulse he tightened his hold.

“You’ll...” you broke off when the tears started choking you up, arms going around his chest to press your cheek against his collarbone, “you’ll come back though. You can promise that...right?”

Feeling him nod, you pulled away to get that same affirmation from his eyes, which you did once your gazes locked. Gently, Kevin’s hand went up to hold your cheek, brushing his thumb slightly over your cheekbone and causing your breath to stutter inside your throat.

Time felt like it had stopped as you stood there, unmoving, just watching the shades of dark brown moving to soft maroon of Kevin’s eyes as the light danced against his face.

And then he leaned down. His lips feathered over your forehead before pressing a soft, chaste kiss upon it, “I promise.”

° . · ❄ · . °

As Winter slowly ebbed away with the arrival of Spring, so did Kevin Frost. It was as if you were waking up from a dream all this time, a dream that you hoped would last forever. It was only when it was warm enough to step outside that you spotted all of his silent messages displayed across the town. Ice sculptures depicting two miniature figures flying through the sky, dancing on rooftops and laughing together paved the way from the door of your backyard to the edge of your fencing and you swore that if you had been alone you would’ve broken down into tears.

But you held on to that thin strand of hope that Kevin Frost would return the next winter. You hoped. Believed that he would keep his word.

Summer was a daze where you occupied yourself helping your brothers, who had recently bought a stand to open up a bakery shop at the end of your street. As you slowly started learning the ropes of rolling dough out and making confectionaries that the locals were so fond of, you slowly developed the skill of decorating them to your liking; which was winter-themed. Soon enough, cookies in the forms of snowflakes were being displayed, there were icy popsicles in the shape of ice-skating rollers, cakes to show the frozen lake and small figurines dancing atop its surface icing.

The one creation that sold the best out of all these was the pastry depicting a scene from when you and Kevin Frost had sat upon a roof, heads nestled close and looking like there wasn’t anywhere else in the world you’d rather be. You had carved into the dough with the best of your ability, with the details springing from the golden crust once it had gone through the oven as bits and pieces of white chocolate made up the snowflakes falling in that idealistic landscape.

"My daughters just love your creations!” One lady once stated as she bought a cake box and about dozens of your pastry, “she finds them so adorable that she shares them with her friends at recess!”

“Thank you, ma’am. I’m glad she likes them,” you smiled back as you exchanged the box of goodies for some gold coins. Your brother, named Hyunjae, nudged you the moment the woman was out of earshot, “so now that we’ve established that you know how to bake. Care to elaborate where you met this man?”

“What?” you tried keeping your face impassive. But you’d be a fool to think your brother would be satisfied with your obliviousness.

“Y/N, I’d like to know whatever’s going on in that little head of yours,” Hyunjae slung an arm around your shoulder with a sly smirk, “so do please enlighten your brother before he finds that man and lands him one.”

You gasped, “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Well it seems like he’s breaking your heart, whoever that man in the pastry is.”

"I--He’s--There’s no one.”

“Y/N.”

“Hyunjae, leave her alone,” your eldest brother, who went by the name of Younghoon, just threw Hyunjae a stern stare, “she’ll tell us when she wants to.”

“You’re no fun Younghoon.”

Before you knew it, the temperature had dropped and the lush greenery of the foliage adorning the town slowly turned to warm hues of orange and red and yellows that fell to the ground, signalling that a new season was making its way through Sleva. Working in your house kitchen was a given now that it was too cold for your body to handle. You woke up before down each day to prepare the set of pastries and adorned cakes that your brothers would then transport to the market place as you watched, waving until their figures disappeared behind the wooden structures of the buildings.

And then, the first snow came.

You weren’t exactly sure when or how Kevin Frost was going to make his appearance. It had been so long that your memory fogged up whenever you tried to remember the details of his features. Did he have a mole at the corner of his eye or was that just a figment of your imagination? Nevertheless, the first time you spotted snowflakes drifting to the ground, there was a rush of adrenaline through your heart and you just knew that Kevin Frost was here.

That night, you set up the fire in your attic as per usual and gathered your blanket around you before huddling over to the edge of the window. No expectations, your mind told you, no expectations that he’d make it to you today. And that was alright.

Your hand went to press against the window pane. It was cold. It sent a shiver through your body and you coughed slightly, muffling it with your palm.

Who were you kidding? There was absolutely no reason why you sat at the edge of the window with your palms bearing the cold if not for one glimpse of Kevin Frost, one sign from him that he had returned with the winter that buried Sleva in its magical beauty.

You imagined him now, that playful asymmetrical smirk and those gorgeous feline eyes and the tender way he would look at you whenever you would spark a conversation that would keep you awake till the early hours of the morning.

You missed him.

Breath fogging up the glass as your nose went to press against it, you took this moment to close your eyes.

Get a grip Y/N. You had to live your life just like he was living his. He wasn’t even human, so why? What made him so important that you felt like your heart was constantly dancing to the rhythm of his voice?

Your eyes fluttered open as you took a breath--

Only to look straight into Kevin Frost’s eyes.

Gasping in shock, your jaw fell slack as you gazed at his face from behind the window pane, his hand pressing up where yours was as he grinned back at you.

“Kev--” your throat felt tight, “Kevin?”

Your hands scrabbled for the latch. You flung it open.

He was here. He came back as he had promised.

Your heart swelled twice the size of your chest, tears gathering along your eyes so that they made your sight all blurry as you reached out to feel his hands clasping your own and before you knew it, you were being cradled to Kevin Frost’s chest as he held you as though he was never going to let go.

“Kevin?” your murmur was muffled against his shirt and reaching out to cup your cheek, he tilted your face towards his in a manner so gentle that your lungs seemed to stop functioning altogether.

His eyes were the same dark obsidian, his nose scrunching in that same manner of his whenever he was deeply amused and whether it was due to your shock, you weren’t about to make a comment when he was here in the flesh, in your arms.

“Long time no see,” his mouth was pressed to your temple and he pecked the area, over and over again like he himself couldn’t quite believe it, “sweetheart.”

His pet name made you laugh, though the tears now pooled down your cheeks, “long time indeed.”

“Kept my promise though, didn’t I?” his hand went up to smooth over the back of your head in an affectionate manner and you swore you felt your heart melt at his touch.

“Still as cocky as ever.”

“Admit it, you missed me.”

You grumbled out a small whine of agreement while looking away and Kevin only chuckled in response. He pushed back your hair, curled it behind your ear before cupping your cheek once more as he searched your gaze.

The intensity of his dark orbs made something in your chest constrict, hands tightening ever so slightly on his shirt, “what? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I wanted to try something.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I saw a bunch of couples doing it so it got me thinking.”

Heat spread through your cheeks and coursed down the back of your neck at how casually he seemed to handle the matter. It must’ve been obvious from the look on your face for Kevin only chuckled and bent down so close that his nose brushed yours, eyes slowly drifting shut when he angled his head to the side.

When his lips touched yours, you swore your heart burst into a million of fireworks.

A shy, tentative kiss. A first kiss for Kevin Frost. That was for sure.

It felt unreal, cold lips against warm ones that made you shudder out of the sheer sensation. His hand moved to the back of your neck, holding you in place as he caught your lower lip between his own. You let out a small sound of appreciation and spurred on, he kept on kissing you that way over and over again while his other arm tugged you close so that you were pressed up to him, all of your curves molded to his hard frame.

He pulled back and for the first time in forever he was the definition of being flustered, red cheeks and shy smile, “how...how did it feel?” he asked like a little five year old boy.

The grin that almost split your face in two was priceless and you'd never know that his heart was racing hundred miles an hour the moment you did.

"Cold," you giggled at his confused frown, "...and magical."

Satisfied with your answer, the young man pressed another kiss to your cheek in a manner so delicate it made your insides blossom with butterflies.

"So," Kevin turned towards the now open window which was now coated in snowflakes, "shall we?"

Your hand slipped into his as you made your way to the ledge, noting the gentleness of his arm as it wound around your waist and caressed your side.

"Show me what you've made of this winter, Kevin Frost."

102 notes · View notes

fluffi · 4 years ago

Text

SNOW-COVERED KISS :: FELIX

pairing: felix x gn!reader

genre: 70% fluff, 30% angst, barista!felix, angst subplot

word count: 2k

author’s note: hi @constellynx! you knew already, but im your secret santa! you mightve deactivated by now (which im pissed at myself for not uploading sooner) but if you havent i hope you enjoy this! have a great new year :)

warnings: mentions of getting stood up

Maybe it was the fact that it was a Friday morning and you had no classes, or that you had walked past the cute little coffee shop on the corner of Avenue street twenty times this week, and you still hadn’t bothered to check it out. Nonetheless, you had the afternoon free today, and you were planning to spend it at Little Leaf Café.

“Welcome to Little Leaf! We hope you have a wonderful time here!” Chorused voices from employees at the café echoed as you opened the door to cold air and overlapping conversations.

It was a gorgeous café, you could tell why it was so popular. Plants of various colors were placed around the area -- hung from grids on the ceiling, on tables, growing on the sides of the walls. Not to mention the festive decorations — an assortment of green and red items meticulously placed around the café.

However, there was something...rather, someone, that was way more gorgeous than the entire café.

“Hello! How can I help you today?”

You were met with an ethereal face after lining up for what felt like ages. As soon as the last heart-struck girl left, an angel entered your line of view.

The sunny boy stood across the counter with a googly smile on his face. You noticed the way his eyes crinkled upwards, and how the apples of his cheeks turned a shade of baby pink when he saw you. He had a silver mullet that looked perfectly trimmed and maintained...you were tempted to run your hands through it. However, his contrasting baritone voice caught you off guard.

In shock and nervousness of talking to new (handsome) people, you completely messed up.

“Hi...I, um, anything? I’ll get anything?” You stuttered and internally facepalmed.

You just embarrassed yourself in front of a very cute boy, but he didn’t seem to notice. Rather, he didn’t seem to mind.

“Sure, I can give you some recommendations. Right now our xmas-special Peppermint Mocha is popular, but if I’m going to be honest, it’s not one of my favorites. I would recommend the Gingerbread Spiced Coffee, but it's your call.” He leaned over the counter and whispered, looking around to make sure his boss didn’t hear him.

As he leaned over to talk to you, you were able to see him clearer. He had glowing skin and his eyes sparkled in excitement, but it made you feel calm. You felt serene and happy looking into his dazzling brown orbs.

Just then, said eyes blinked and squinted at you. That brought you down to Earth.

“Right, right! I’ll get whatever you said! The Singerbread Giced Coffee?” You nodded your head in panic before you realized what you just said.

“Uh, it's called the Gingerbread Spiced Coffee, but sure. Anything else?” He looked back at you after inputting your order with a teasing gleam in his eye.

“Nothing else. I’m sorry, I’m such a mess today!” You bowed in embarrassment and looked at your fidgeting fingers.

He chuckled. “Nothing to worry about. What’s your name?”

“Y/N. What’s yours?” You answered, before realizing that he only needed it to write your name on the plastic cup.

“Oh! I’ve never had anyone ask me my name before. It’s Felix.” He flashed another dazzling smile at you before handing you a table number.

Felix put your order on the pick up table and left to man the counter. Through your peripheral vision, however, you could catch him nervously glancing at you. Ignoring the rising butterflies in your stomach, you walked over to your reserved seat and placed your tray down.

However, as you were about to take a sip of your specially recommended drink, you glanced down and saw your receipt, with a specially written note on it.

Hi, Y/N. If you see this. Read my continued message on the serviette under your drink ;)

-felix

Your heart shuddered as you began to overthink pretty much every possibility that could happen between you and Felix. Maybe he wrote you a note to tell you that you were annoying? Maybe kind of weird? A little cuckoo? A bunch of mind-boggling thoughts started circulating your brain as you slowly flipped your serviette over.

Hi Y/N.

I know this seems like a really unconventional method, but I honestly don’t have the courage to ask someone out on a date in person hehe. Oops! I just said it...uh, would you want to go out with me on a date? I think you’re really cute and I love your personality! Also, um, you’re really pretty.

I was thinking that we can maybe meet at the 31st Bus Stop at 4pm? I have a shift till 3.30 so I could go there and meet you. We can plan everything else out later :3

If you’re already taken, that's alright! You can ignore this message. But do what you will with the information I gave you.

-felix the little leaf barista dude

Your face was in a dark shade of beet red as you looked up timidly and immediately locked eyes with Felix. You tried not to smile as you looked away and giggled shyly.

On Felix’s side, he had been staring at you ever since you took your order. When the two of you met eyes, his entire body froze, and he stopped what he was doing, dropping his half-washed cup into the sink.

“Dude, what are you doing, I- “ Bang Chan, his senior colleague and friend, followed Felix’s line of sight to you and chuckled slyly.

“In my opinion, the color of their face probably means that they’ll go out with you. Get back to work Lix, or you might not be able to see her later.” He nudged Felix’s side, prompting him to continue working. Felix looked up at Bang Chan in confusion and continued his work, still glancing at you occasionally.

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry. How can I help yo-oh. Oh.” Felix looked up at you smiling, still blessed with a tinge of pink across your cheeks.

“I should’ve given more context. Yes, I’ll go out with you tonight!” You didn’t know where you received this newfound confidence, but you were going to use all of it.

“Oh, really? That’s great! I’ll meet you there then. Be careful, okay? Can’t have you getting hurt before we have our first date.”

Once again you had melted into a puddle of nervousness. Unable to voice out anything, you nodded your head multiple times and ran out the café. Your hands were cold from the chilly season, but your heart was warm from the cute barista.

It was ten past four. You were sitting under the shade of 31st Bus Stop, fidgeting with the hem of your waistband and looking around, by yourself.

You weren’t losing hope, you were sure Felix was on his way right now. He would never stand you up, right?

Right?

Regardless, you sat on the uncomfortable metal bench in freezing weather, and you were about to text him, when…

You realized you didn’t have his phone number.

You weren’t going to go home, however. Determined Y/N was planning to wait for as long as it would take. You trusted Felix.

Forty minutes now. You had been playing some mobile games, looking out at the bustling street in front of you. During the winter season, the sun set earlier, so it was already dark and it definitely wasn’t safe for you to be alone. However, you were determined that Felix would arrive soon.

Five more minutes was what you told yourself as you stared out into the empty road, now barren of cars as the rush hour was over.

“Lee Yongbok, where do you think you’re going?”

Felix cursed under his breath and turned to Mr. Park with a small smile. “I’m done with my shift boss, I’ll get going now.”

“Felix, it's peak season right now. If you don’t remember what I told you guys during the brief meeting, I’ll say it again. From the 12th of December to the 25th of December, all of you have your shifts extended for two hours due to the influx of customers during the Christmas season. Is that so hard to understand?” Mr. Park crossed his arms and squinted at Felix.

“Mr. Park, I’ve understood that rule. I did my two-hour extension, now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be going now. I have somewhere to be.” Felix tried opening the door and walking out but was pulled back by a stronger arm grabbing his.

“Nuh-uh, young man. I’m sure that whatever event you have today isn’t going to be as important as the wellbeing of Little Leaf. Now if you’ll excuse me, do get your apron and hat back on and go back to manning the counter.” Mr. Park mocked.

Felix sighed and tried one last time at changing the mind of his horrible boss. “But Mr. Park, I swear, I did my two-hour extension, you can check the roster if you-”

“Get back to work, boy. Unless you want to start a new job in 2021.”

Felix sighed and threw his bag down, walking to the staff room to retie his apron.

Later, when Mr. Park checked the roster, he would find out that Felix did do his two-hour extension, and that he never lied.

An hour and a half, that was how long you waited. No one would ever wait for that long. No one would ever stay alone at late hours of the day, waiting for someone who probably wouldn’t even show up.

Tears stung your eyes as you sighed and stood up, huffing and smoothening your outfit out. You thought that Felix had probably stood you up. It was probably a dare, maybe he had been dared to write a generic love serviette to some desperate person who fell for his charming looks. Even then you couldn’t help but think of Felix, and tears streamed down your face as you trudged back home.

“Y/N! Y/N, wait up! Y/N, don’t leave, hear me out.” The voice you had been waiting for finally could be heard.

You stopped in your tracks and turned around to face a panting Felix. His hair was disheveled, apron still on, and his jacket was worn the wrong way round. What an entrance to a first date.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. Mr. Park honestly...he kept me for an hour more, before I convinced him to let me leave. I don’t know why, I’m so sorry. I honestly didn’t think you would be here, no one would stay that long. Please, give me another chance?” Felix took a few steps closer to you but maintained his distance. His eyes scanned yours for any response.

“I’m- I mean, it's not your fault...but you made me wait for so long. I just, I don’t know what to say. I thought you stood me up.” Your eyes watered once again.

Felix immediately waved his hands in denial and took one more step closer to you. “No, no, Y/N. I would never. I’m sorry if you thought I would ever stand you up. I should have made my way here over faster, if only I gave you my phone number. I’m so sorry-”

Your eyes suddenly widened, and you looked up. White, shimmering, pieces of ice fell upon the both of you. You stared at him in awe, mouth open wide.

It hadn’t snowed in Seoul for a long, long time. Maybe this moment was special.

Felix smiled back at you. Amidst the white rain, he took a few steps closer to you until the both of you were so close that you could...kiss.

“Y/N. I apologize. I’m sorry for being a horrible first date. Will you forgive me?” His dark chocolate orbs glanced into yours, dragging you into a new universe.

“Yes. I’ll forgive you.” You whispered, looking at the ground.

His eyes scanned yours for any sort of consolation. He didn’t even need to ask anymore. “Y/N, can I kiss you?” He quietly asked, using his pointer finger to tilt your chin upwards.

As you nodded, he leaned in and placed his lips on yours, as the both of you stood amidst the snow. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he put his around your waist and the both of you deepened the kiss.

Two lone beings, coming together as one, in the midst of a snow-struck city.

2021 © fluffi

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kareofbears · 4 years ago

Text

long lines and cold nights

“Sakamoto-san!” the voice of a gruff middle-aged man a few spots behind Akira yells out. Akira’s smile splits even wider, knowing what will happen next. “Is that the Akira you keep telling us about?”

———

Akira visits Ryuji at work and witnesses how he interacts with his customers.

read on ao3 or below the cut :)

Akira didn’t think that bread would be so popular during Christmas.

It’s evening, and every store in Tokyo seemed to be flashing with multicolored fairy lights. The roads have long since turned the snow to slush, but the sidewalk still had white flurries piled high on top of each other. No matter where anyone looks, there are shoppers lugging around gift bags and wearing thick mittens, all eager to hide away from the freezing temperatures and numbing fingers. Despite the hustle, there’s a collective attitude from everyone present that exudes a certain liveliness that’s only ever present during the holiday season.

He’s next in line to get into the bakery, a thick, bright-red scarf wrapped tight around his neck and hands clutching a heavy paper bag. The scent of baked goods wafts from where he’s standing, and it makes him salivate just a little. Akira’s been standing here for half an hour now, the line moving at a horrifically sluggish pace that would get employees crucified during the holiday shopping rush. Yet, for some reason, the line doesn’t ever seem to get impatient.

The bakery exudes warm lighting through its glass windows, and Akira glances inside. It hasn’t changed much since he came in here last, but now it’s slathered with pine-colored wreaths and garlands, all twisted with bright-red ribbons and over-the-top bows that would have been ridiculous had he not known who put them up in the first place. Now, it’s just endearing.

An old woman hobbles to the glass door from the inside, hands full with bags of brioche, and just as Akira is about to open the door for her, it swings open—

“Oh! So kind of you, Sakamoto-kun!”

“Don’t worry about it, ma’am. I’m sure neither of us can take the heartbreak if that bread of yours hits the concrete, huh?”

They both share a genuine laugh, and Ryuji holds the door open as the woman shuffles away, still smiling. Instrumental Christmas music is playing from inside, and with it comes a burst of heat that’s packaged with every bakery during the wintertime.

Akira presses his lips together. “Does that mean I can come in now?”

Ryuji blinks, before his head jerks towards him, eyes wide. “Akira!”

This is probably his second favorite part of visiting Ryuji when he works; with a white button-up and khakis topped off with a red apron, he looks incredibly endearing in a way that Akira can’t begin to describe. It’s only ever improved during December, when he chooses to wear reindeer antlers for a more festive look. (His words. Apparently, the regulars love it.)

“Ryuji.” He can’t hold it back anymore—a smile splits wide across his face. “Looking good.”

“Looking hot you mean,” he gives Akira a slow spin. “Bet you’ve never seen anyone rock an apron this hard.”

He meant it as a joke, but it still rings true. Both of them are older now. A little taller, a little broader than they were in high school, but there’s something in the way that Ryuji’s changed that makes people flock to him. His hair is still bleached blond (there’s no getting rid of that one), but he has an undercut that shows his natural hair underneath, and he has bright red studs on both earlobes that have the tendency to catch light when he’s at the right angle.

When he smiles, it’s bigger than it was. When he laughs, it fills in every empty crevice in the room. When he speaks, it’s with a little more confidence.

But despite everything that had changed, when his eyes meet Akira’s, it’s still the loveliest feeling in the world.

“Nope,” he answers honestly, despite seeing him in that apron dozens of times before. “And I’ll never get tired of it.”

“Wait, the Kurusu Akira?” Someone else pipes in—a girl in her early twenties. “Huh, you’re right! He’s just as good-looking as you said he was.”

“Thank you for your kind words,” Akira replies, but his eyes are trained on the boy in front of him, refusing to look embarrassed. “That’s really nice of you to say.”

“Aw, and he seems like such a sweetheart, too. How’s the cafe doing? Heard you got promoted to assistant manager there recently. Good on you!”

He gives Ryuji an amused look. “Is there anything you haven’t told them about me?”

“When have I ever learned to shut up when it came to you?” he shrugs. “Pretty sure even the bookstore next door knows about your promotion too, by now.”

“Kurusu-kun, congrats on finishing your essay! Foreign policy is a tough thing to write on, you know.”

“Oh Kurusu-san, you’re absolutely going to adore what Sakamoto-chan got you for Christmas! He worked so hard on it, you’re going to love it to shreds.”

“Hold on, I thought you worked Thursday nights, Kurusu-kun. What are you doing here?”

It seems that even Ryuji has a breaking point—his face has grown scarlet, and his eyes are flittering away. It’s mind-numbingly charming. When Akira responds, his small smile has worked up to become a full-on grin. “I just got off work, actually.”

“Guys,” Ryuji groans loudly and leans over to give the long line a stern look. “We can’t keep doing this every time Akira comes over, it’s getting embarrassing.” Laughter rumbles through the lineup, warm and familiar and not a hint of maliciousness to be heard.

He clears his throat, but his soft voice does little to carry over the bustle of the city’s shoppers during their prime. “Sorry, I just wanted to drop something off for him. I didn’t mean to hold up the line or anything—”

“Dear,” an aging woman cuts him off. “Trust me when I say that we love seeing Sakamoto-san here be happy. After everything he’s done for us, this must be the least that we can do.”

“Yeah! He’s always giving us scones when there’s too many—”

“—and croissants—!”

“—once, he gave me a danish for free—”

Ryuji shushes them, panicked. “Quit yelling it out like that, or I might get fired.”

“As if we’d let that happen to you!” someone snorts, and there’s a chorus of agreements that ripple from the crowd.

Belatedly, Akira realizes that his cheeks are starting to hurt, but this wouldn’t be the first time this happened. Or the second. Or the tenth.

This is his favorite part about visiting him at work—to see him at work, to see him play the role of working in customer service.

But it never feels like that. When Ryuji’s speaking to customers, it doesn’t matter what they’re buying or how busy they are; he gets to know them. He could give less of a damn about the product they sell; it’s less about the selling, and more about reaching out to them and to make sure that they’re doing alright. He takes the time to talk to them, to learn their names and their preferences and who they are.

It just so happens that they also get to know him in return.

“I should go,” Akira mummers. “You’ll never get through this line if I keep distracting you like this.”

He rolls his eyes. “Sure, blame me and not the actual gang of people bullying a poor bakery sales associate.”

“They love you, Sakamoto-san,” he teases.

“Oh, shut up.”

“I just wanted to drop by to say hi, and also—” Akira holds up the still-warm bag in his hand. “To drop off some ramen, in case you got sick of eating bread during your break.”

Ryuji’s eyes are sparkling. Quickly glancing inside the bakery to make sure his manager isn’t watching, he pecks his cheek. He smells like sugar glaze and warmth.

“I love you,” he whispers, ignoring the small cheer behind them like some sort of romcom.

“And I love you. Go kick some ass, and I’ll pick you up at 8:30, okay?”

“Yes, sir,” Ryuji salutes, taking the weight off his hands, before turning to the person behind Akira. “Saito-san, welcome back! Two loaves of the Country Grain, right?”

Akira moves out of the way to finally let the line flow, touching Ryuji’s shoulder as he passes by. He takes one last look behind him and feels a pang of sympathy.

He’s been here enough times, has eaten enough of this bakery’s products to know that there really isn’t anything special about it. The food is fine; the scones are good, but he’s had better. Sometimes the flour loaf is tasty, but it’s hit or miss. The danishes are sweet and fluffy, but it’s guaranteed to be sold out by the time it hits noon.

It’s a mediocre bakery in the middle of Tokyo. You could find five more just like it down the street, and three better ones if you’re willing to take the bus. But, for some reason, there are also very few bakeries with this long of a line-up during the busiest time of the year.

Akira was the first person to line up for Sakamoto Ryuji’s attention all those years ago and it’s ridiculous that it’s taken this long for more people to start doing the same thing.

#mine #fic tag #persona 5 #akiryu #pegoryu #remember when i said i was gonna write a bakery au?#anyway this is my last fic for the year and ill probably make an emotional post later #ryuji sakamoto #akira kurusu #happy holidays!

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eyesupmarksman · 4 years ago

Text

Geraskier - The Dark and the Flame (Secret Santa Gift)

Happy Witcher Secret Santa @inikokoru! 🐺

Geralt and Jaskier weather their winter in Kaer Morhen; featuring Soft!Boys and Geralt getting to finally rest and enjoy his time with his bard 🥰 Hope you have a wonderful holiday season!

Thank you @thewitchersecretsanta for hosting such a wonderful festive event! Happy holidays 🎅🏻

Word Count: 2,499

Warnings: None

AO3 Link!

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

Kaer Morhen seems like a world away. Perched on top of a mountain peak, backed up against the stone and shrouded in a thick forest, curious eyes aren’t able to follow them up the steep sloping trails. The last humans Jaskier will see for the winter are in the village at the foot of the mountain; the last place where they can get provisions for the trails and the keep itself. Geralt picks up some dried beef and a loaf of bread, and Jaskier re-furs his cloak. It’s going to be a harsh winter, if he goes by how wonderful of a summer they had this year. An old peasant’s saying; a harsh summer, an equally harsh winter.

The paths aren’t terrible. Some of them are flooded, but Geralt nods for him to get on to Roach while the Witcher guides them through on foot. He’s been up and down this mountain ever since he first set off to be a Witcher; he knows where to step and where to avoid. Still, Jaskier bundles his cloak around himself and wishes that time would trudge by just that bit quicker. A storm will roll in soon enough. Blackened and heavy clouds slump over a nearby ridge.

They reach the walls of the keep just as the first drops of rain hit.

A winter at the keep means rest for everyone, including the horses. They stay in their stables and munch on stored hay and rolled oats, happy to be tackless for the season. With how much they’ve traveled throughout the year, and all of the monsters Geralt has hunted, Roach deserves her rest more than most.

Jaskier has been to the keep before. The first winter was spent stuck to Geralt’s side, shadowing him around as the Witcher showed him where to go for what. The keep sprawls out in every sort of direction, even delving deep into the mountain itself. A few sun-turns have passed. He knows where to go to get to Geralt’s room, the hot springs underneath the keep, Vesemir’s library, and the arena and stables outside. Other than that, he’s afraid of wandering off of his usual track because he’ll only get lost.

Vesemir allows his pups the first few days to rest. His sons have spent the last three seasons trudging through the Continent, wandering from contract to contract and collecting more injuries starts to take its toll. Jaskier can’t complain. The worst he’s dealt with this year is bartering with angry villagers not wanting to pay the Witcher for his service in clearing out a whole nekker nest. He still can’t remember what happened; just that someone with something knocked the back of his head, he fell to the ground, and woke up in a tavern bed almost ten hours later to a distraught, but furious, Witcher watching over him.

So he’s content to let Geralt relax into the keep, do whatever he needs to do to gain life back into his bones. Sleep evades him some nights, while others are spent working and then travelling the next day. He’s owed sleep. Within the first few minutes of being inside of the keep, Jaskier shepherds Geralt to his room. “Take off your armour and let me get you some clean clothes,” he says, letting the door click shut behind them.

Geralt arches an eyebrow at the command, but follows it anyway.

Jaskier listens to the tell-tale sounds of Geralt undoing the buckles and straps of his armour. Most of it is unceremoniously dumped into a corner of the room. He’s meticulously careful with caring for it and mending it whenever he can during the year. But here, safe behind high and study walls, there’s no need for it, and it will be put away until the day comes where the snow thaws and the sun returns. When he’s stripped down to nothing but an undershirt and breeches, Geralt perches at the foot of his bed and picks at the laces of his boots.

Vesemir won’t have anything ready for them to eat just yet. His stews and soups and roasts take up most of the day to prepare and simmer, and they’re good. Jaskier’s stomach growls at the thought of a warm bowl of stew or a few thick slices of roasted venison waiting for him down in the dining hall. But not yet. Now, he pads back over to Geralt, handing him some folded, fresh clothes and a handful of vials of lotions and soaps. “Go down to the baths and get the road off of you,” he instructs simply. “I’ll air the room and get the fire started.”

Geralt looks too exhausted to go down to the dining hall and try and hold air with Vesemir and the others. Though, Jaskier suspects that the elder might understand that he could be dining alone tonight, seeing how exhausted his sons were when they trudged one by one into the keep’s main hall, road-weary and worn.

Geralt hums, clambering on to his feet. Bare-foot, he pads down the halls towards the springs. Really, Jaskier could have had a tub sourced from somewhere; but he looks around the room and sees all the work he needs to do to get it ready. He starts with airing the room, cracking the lancet windows open just a little bit to let fresh, crisp air inside. It doesn’t take long for musky, dust-riddled air to be swept out. He closes them when the air turns just a small bit cold, nipping at his skin. The hearth next. A metal bucket of chopped wood sits by the hearth. Vesemir, Jaskier thinks. The sheets on the bed are new, and Geralt has some newly washed clothes already within his drawers. Even now, with his pups fully grown and waning in years, Vesemir will still look after them.

Jaskier makes quick work of sparking the fire to life. He feeds the fire with two small, dry logs before his ears twitch at a knock on the door. Eskel and Lambert will have already retired to their own rooms. Jaskier saw the shadows gaunting their faces. He strides over to the door, blinking when he sees Vesemir standing outside with a tray in his hands.

Two piping bowls of stew, a loaf of crusted bread, a small wedge of cheese, and a bottle of wine with tankards. Jaskier blinks.

“I thought that you might have wanted to relax on your first night here,” Vesemir explains, holding out the tray. It’s heavy and laden with everything they could love. His stomach trembles at the sight of the food. Full meals were few and far between out on the road; unless they were lucky enough to stumble on a contract from a kind enough lord or lady, then their banquet table was splayed open for them. And Vesemir’s meals always hold a special place in his heart. Jaskier catches the scent of roasted herbs and his mouth waters.

Vesemir offers him one of his barely-there smiles, nothing more than a lift of the corner of his lip. “Have a good night, bard.”

By the time Geralt pads back, Jaskier smiles. His Witcher is flushed red from the hot water, smelling of the oils and lotions Jaskier likes to bathe him in. In fresh clothes and bare feet, he struggles to find any reason why anyone in the Continent would ever be afraid of the Witcher. White, wet hair tumbles down on to his shoulders, slack and relaxed as he shuffles over to a small desk near Jaskier. He holds out a fine-toothed comb. And Jaskier’s smile only grows.

Geralt wordlessly sits on a chair in front of him, sighing contently at the first pass of Jaskier’s fingers through his hair. If he had to bathe alone, without Jaskier’s hands dusting over his skin, then he can get the bard to at least comb through his hair. It was a slow process, getting Geralt used to the perfumed lotions and oils and soaps Jaskier likes to use. He remembers when Geralt’s nose would wrinkle at the sharp scent of citrus fruits or the musk of desert flowers. But slowly, when they started lying in the same bed, entangled in each other, Jaskier woke up to the Witcher’s nose pressed into the groove of his neck, breathing in lungfuls of scent.

The hearth crackles to life, heat slowly blooming out into the room. Geralt hums. “Vesemir dropped that up, did he?” he nods to the tray sitting nearby.

Jaskier runs the comb through Geralt’s hair. “Hmm. We can eat after I’m finished.”

Geralt sits patiently, almost slumbering as he leans back against Jaskier and sinks against him.

The bard huffs a light laugh. With the last of Geralt’s hair combed through, he nudges the Witcher’s shoulder. “Eat,” he says, setting his comb on to the table, and bringing over a chair. The meal is everything he needed it to be and more. The first spoonful of thick stew has him swallowing down a moan. He’s missed this; familiar, good home-cooked food that has his toes curling in his boots. The fire crackles nearby and the storm threatening to spill over outside is long forgotten about.

Geralt keeps his tankard filled with wine. As soon as it slips beneath the half-way mark, the Witcher reaches over with the bottle and tops it up. Jaskier chuckles around a mouthful of bread. His Witcher will keep him warm and fed and on the right side of drunk, plied and smiling with wine. They don’t need to talk at all. Jaskier has done enough talking throughout the past three seasons for the both of them. He’s happy to let his voice rest throughout the winter, though his lute could still whisper to him. A merry Eskel and Lambert might ask a song or two from him, but that will be it. For now, though, Jaskier sits happily across from his Witcher, their knees touching as they scoff down as much food as they’re able to.

The wind howls outside. Harsh rain lashes against the keep’s battlements and walls, but Kaer Morhen has weathered its fair share of storms throughout the centuries. The hearth crackles and spits and warmth blooms throughout the room. Jaskier sighs up at the ceiling, letting his eyes flicker closed. He could slip away into the soft and plush mattress. The sheets are slung lowly over the both of them, not needed for the moment now that the hearth’s fire has picked up. But Geralt still dozes by his side, resting his head on Jaskier’s shoulder and curling an arm around the bard’s middle.

Jaskier skims a hand over the Witcher’s back. He’s shed his shirt, leaving it somewhere outside of their bed. He has Jaskier to keep him warm, so why would he need it? And with a shirt on, he wouldn’t have been able to feel and lounge in the bard’s touch dusting over him. Jaskier’s fingers trail up and down the Witcher’s back, running over the ridges of his spine and across his shoulders. He can feel how heavy Geralt is getting, slowly sinking into sleep.

There have been only a handful of times where Geralt has let himself lower his guard like this. Out on the path, Geralt’s shoulders were always tense and his eyes continuously scanning crowds and rooms. Even when they slept, either out on the road underneath the stars or in tavern rooms, Geralt never ventured too deeply down. A slight creak of a floorboard or a twig snapping, and Geralt would have his sword in his hand and ready to strike within seconds.

Both of them indulge in the winter; Geralt with letting his shoulders drop and his hackles lower, and Jaskier watching his Witcher finally relax. The Continent can survive on its own for the season. Or the other Witchers can deal with it. One of Geralt’s brothers told him that the other schools don’t act like they do; their cubs and fledglings can traverse through the countryside if they want, but only the wolves return to their mountain religiously for the winter. And even then, Eskel told him that sometimes, when they’re short on coin or if the year had been particularly riddled with contracts, they’ll stay.

Jaskier’s fingers dust the ridges of Geralt’s spine, gently running over patches of marred skin and the bumps of scars. Long-since healed and beginning to fade, but there nonetheless. He loosens a sigh, turning his head just enough to dust a kiss to the crown of Geralt’s head. It’s nothing major; merely a brush of lips. He lingers, smelling bathing salts and oils. Underneath it all is the familiar scent of Geralt.

The Witcher hums, curling further into Jaskier’s chest. Full-bellied and pliant from a bath, he’s slipping. He’s growing heavier and heavier in Jaskier’s arms. It won’t be long until sleep stops skirting the shadows of the room and comes slinking out to lull him under. Jaskier won’t be long after. His eyelids grow heavier with each passing moment.

They’ll have chores in the following week. The keep has gone three seasons with just Vesemir looking after it; and though he’s loathe to admit it, he’s getting on in years and cannot see to everything. Cracks have formed in the mortar keeping the outer walls together, and the stones need to be re-pointed. But that’s next week. Jaskier reaches up to card his fingers through Geralt’s hair. He’ll have nothing to do with the heavier work. Eskel and Lambert and Geralt can deal with clambering up the high stone walls and keeping them in check. He’ll find something to do. He’s sure Vesemir has constructed a list as long as his arm to keep him busy for the season.

Until then—

Jaskier catches the blankets over their hips and tugs them up to their chests. Geralt burrows into him; the arm around the bard’s waist tightening and possessive. The candles around the room have long since quenched themselves. The only light and heat come blooming out of the hearth. It crackles and flickers, but it’s what they both end up falling asleep to. Geralt slips away first, soft snores rumbling out of his chest and blowing against Jaskier’s chest.

Jaskier’s arms will stay around his Witcher. They don’t part when they sleep. Jaskier can’t count how many times they’ve woken up entangled in each other, not knowing where one began and the other ended.

The warmth of the room and the soft bed beneath him and the Witcher coiled against his side; it’s too much of a fight to stay awake. But he wants to. He wants to watch his Witcher loosen and relax, but it’s not enough. Sleep tugs at him, luring him under. Just before he slips off, when his eyes flutter closed and his breath starts to deepen, he hears the soft, constant rhythm of his Witcher’s heartbeat: a silent assurance that they’re together and safe.

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt/jaskier #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x jaskier #geralt of rivia/jaskier #henry cavill #joey batey #yourqueenforayear #agoodgoddamnshot #inikokoru #gifts 2020 #the witcher secret santa 2020

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drprettyboyspence · 4 years ago

Text

Memory Lane

Dr. Spencer Reid/reader

Summary: Reader just can't seem to get to sleep one night so she decides to walk around the house she shares with her boyfriend, Spencer Reid. As she travels around the house she remembers significant moments in their relationship.

words: 2.9k

warnings: season 12 spoilers, mentioning of mental illness, nothing else to my knowledge! (just a lot of fluff)

a/n: This is my first Spencer Reid fic and I kinda went off the rails with the word count, let me know if you enjoy it :)

I turn myself over in bed for what feels like the four hundredth time this hour, facing the ceiling now. I can hear the rustling of leaves outside and the distant sirens of the city, remembering how those sounds used to bring me some sort of comfort as a child, now all I can think of is the death and tragedy being an FBI profiler has brought me into contact with, the horrors at the end of the trail of sirens. Mostly noticeably though, I hear the steady breathing of the man lying next to me in the king bed, glancing over at my boyfriend of almost 4 years I smile warmly, his unruly hair draped over the pillow, glad to see him in deep sleep. Recently he hasn’t been sleeping well, suffering from PTSD from his time spent in prison as well as all the trauma the poor man has been through in the last 10 years of his life. I quietly get out of bed, making sure not to bother him, he deserves a good nights sleep and we have to be at the BAU in a depressingly minuscule amount of hours. My feet hit the cold wooden floors and I wonder for the uncountable time “Why did we decide on wooden floors?” A memory of an argument with Spencer answers my question,

“Because silly, don’t you know that carpets can hold up to 200,000 bacteria per square inch, this room is 100 square feet, 144 square inches per square foot, that is 28,800,000 bacteria in our bedroom alone.” I remember shaking my head at him, he’s always been such a germaphobe. In fact, when we first met, he shook my hand, and later when I confided in JJ and Penelope that I had pretty intense feelings for the resident genius of the BAU, they mentioned that he usually hates shaking hands, is known for refusing to shake the hands of many people the team comes into contact with on cases. He shook my hand right away, it’s one of the things I love about him and we always say we knew right away that we had a special connection. I glance at Spencer’s sleeping frame one more time before leaving the bedroom and making my way down the hallway. There are pictures there, pictures of me and Spence, him and his mom, pictures of the team at work, Spencer won’t admit it often, but he wakes up every morning scared that he won’t remember those he loves, his mother’s dementia and schizophrenia have impacted him greatly. I stop in front of a picture of me and Spence, it’s the first picture we ever took together, Halloween almost 5 years ago now, at the FBI Halloween party.

October 2015

“Come on Y/n! How can you not love Halloween!”

“Spencer, what’s so great about Halloween!” I had asked laughing while filling up a plastic cup with punch. The party is fun, but all this dressing up just seems silly to me sometimes.

“It’s a uniquely American holiday! I mean, despite its obvious origins in the Celtic festival of Samhain and the Christian All Saints’ Day, it really is a melting pot of various immigrants’ traditions and beliefs. It became a little more commercialized in the 1950s with trick-or-treat, and today it rivals only Christmas in terms of popularity!” I catch JJ’s eyes from across the room, she gives me a sympathetic look as I’m stuck in another of Reid’s constant statistics rants. Frankly, I don’t understand how the rest of the team can cut Reid off when he’s like this. He’s so genuinely excited by this holiday it makes my budding feelings for the man standing in front of me even stronger.

“Aw you guys look so cute! Say cheese!” the always-hyper voice of Penelope Garcia shouts from across the bullpen, snapping a quick picture of me and Spence before running after Derek. I glance down at my phone and see a text from Penelope “It doesn’t take a profiler to realize how gone you are for him Y/n” I blush profusely before continuing my conversation with Spencer.

Present day

Tearing my eyes away from that specific picture, I continue walking to the end of the hallway, painfully aware that the floorboards are squeaking with my every step, hoping Spencer’s just-finished-a-case level of exhaustion will prevent him from waking up. I pass the threshold into the kitchen and see the dim light of the clock over the stove, the red 2:15 blinking back at me through my tired eyes, I just can’t seem to get to sleep tonight, I’m sure Spencer would say something like

“Chronic insomnia is usually tied to an underlying mental or physical issue. Anxiety, stress, and depression are some of the most common causes of chronic insomnia but even if you do not suffer from chronic insomnia, 35% of Americans report their sleep quality as poor or only fair.” Dating a living encyclopedia definitely has its perks I suppose. I walk towards the fridge and glance at the refrigerator, my eyes traveling to a postcard held up by a doctor who magnet. Houston, Texas the postcard reads.

February 2017

Me and Spencer had been dating for less than 6 months but as we had known each other for over a year I was falling head over heels in love with him. The last few months hadn’t been easy, Spencer learned that his mother had been diagnosed with dementia and not a day had gone by where he didn’t try and find a cure, he had been traveling to Houston,Texas to talk with his mother’s doctor, he then brought her to live with him in Virginia, it had been difficult to say the least. My fingers traced the edges of the postcard I had received in the mail this morning, then flipped it over and saw Spencer’s familiar scraggly handwriting, it read

Dear Y/n,

I was able to speak with my mother’s doctors today, I feel as though there must be more I can be doing, she seems to be responding to the medicines but I am looking into new methods of treating the disease. I miss you so much Y/n, and I miss the rest of the team as well, tell them I will be back as soon as I can, I hate the thought of you putting yourself in danger on cases without me there, not because I doubt your ability to protect yourself, but because I doubt my ability to handle being 1,402 miles away from you. Please do not worry about me, if you’re anxiously awaiting my return, stop looking at the clock because remember, when looking at a clock our brains anticipate what we’ll see faster than we actually see it, so the clock seems to stop, Ill be back before you know it Y/n.

With all my love, Spencer Reid.

I giggle quietly at the added facts, only Spencer would describe the phenomenon of a clock appearing stopped when glanced out. I’m concerned about Spencer though, I’m not sure what is going on, but there is definitely something not right with him and if I didn’t trust him so much I would consider asking Garcia to do a background check to check the legitimacy of his travels to Houston.

Present Day

This postcard is extremely bittersweet, the next week we were all rushing to Mexico, responding to a call that Spencer was in jail, I was a nervous wreck, we all were, it was an extremely rough 6 months, truly showing me how strong the man I love is. I push some of those harsh memories out of my brain, choosing to focus on the happy memories if I ever want to fall asleep tonight. There’s a coffee machine next to the fridge, if there’s one thing Spencer loves more than me, its coffee, or rather coffee flavored sugar with the amount of sweetener he puts in his cup every day. Spencer smells like coffee, almost always, he struggles to sleep most nights and therefore is always hyped up on caffeine. It's actually played a huge role in our relationship.

August 2016

Dr. Spencer Reid and I are walking to the BAU together as we do every single day, we live close to each other, close enough that he walks about 5 minutes before arriving at my house, we then walk to the coffee shop on the way to the train station. We’re best friends, but I’ve been secretly in love with him for months. Walking into Quantico, we get the daily glances from Penelope, Derek, and JJ who are sitting together looking at pictures of Henry. Penelope always teases me that we’re both so in love with each other that everyone can see it but us, it’s ironic actually. As much as I don’t believe Pen, I have been noticing small changes in Spence’s behavior the last couple months, prompting me to, in the deepest corners of my mind, hope that maybe he feels the same way, our friendship is worth too much to risk him not feeling the same way though, so I’m forever stuck. We aren’t on a case right now, so there’s a lot of paperwork to be done, at one point during the day I get up, asking Spence if he wants another cup of coffee before walking to the break room. I return after a brief 5 minutes and am surprised to see Derek sitting in my seat, arguing with Spencer.

“Come on Pretty boy! We both know you’re in love with her! Just ask her out man, she’ll say yes!”

“Morgan, quiet down, she’ll be back any minute, besides I’m 35 and Y/n is 32, I’m not saying there would even be a chance that we would get married but the marriage success rate in the United States is only 50%, the worst it has ever been, that therefore shows the state of relationships in the country as well, I don’t want to ruin our friendship, I could never lose her. Besides, I’ve never been good with women.”

“But that’s the thing pretty boy, you don’t have to be good with women, you’re already good with Y/n, she’s the one who matters, just ask her out man, you’ll regret it if you don’t.” With that Morgan walks away and I take a deep breath, its now or never, walking over to Spencer and setting down the cup, whispering in his ear,

“You never know how good with women you are until you try, Spence” He looks up at me with wide eyes and licks his tongue across his lips, something he does often.

“Um, Y/n, y-you heard all of that?” I nod and I can see Spence take a deep breath just as I did before walking over, “W-would you like to um- go to dinner with me Y/n?”

“Hmm I don’t know…” Spencer’s face starts to fall as I quickly continue “Of course I would love to go to dinner with you silly, what did you think?” His smile lights up the entire room as he pulls me into a deep hug.

“Well finally you two. You couldn’t have waited just a few more months though, I assumed you lovebirds wouldn’t get it together until after Spencer’s birthday” Rossi says from behind us, passing a pretty hefty stack of bills to Penelope.

That was the day that started the greatest adventure of my life.

Present Day

I leave the kitchen and walk to the living room, a chilly breeze blows my hair slightly askew, its June in Virginia, warm enough that all I’m wearing is one of Spence’s oversized MIT shirts with pajama shorts, but the night air causes slight goosebumps on my skin, sending me into my memories once again.

August 2019

Spencer and I are sitting on the couch, participating in yet another Doctor Who marathon on the tv, it's a rare day off from work and the hot summer air fills our living room even with the fan blowing through the house. I lie my head in Spencer’s lap as we watch the tv and his strong hand strokes the back of my neck, causing goosebumps to pop up all over my arms. I giggle and glance up at him causing him to pointedly look at me asking me with his eyes “What is so funny that you dare distract from Doctor Who?”

“It’s just strange, its 95 degrees outside but your hands on my neck give me goosebumps like its a crisp fall day, isn’t that funny baby?”

“Of course the most common cause of goosebumps is cold weather, but when you’re experiencing extreme emotions, the human body responds in a variety of ways. Two common responses include increased electrical activity in the muscles just under the skin and increased depth or heaviness of breathing, resulting in goosebumps.” I roll my eyes at him and playfully swat his hair out of his eyes.

“Only you, Dr. Spencer Reid, would take a romantic statement and turn it into statistics, and I love you for that” he kisses me and well, the Doctor Who marathon was quickly turned off after that.

Present Day

As I turn the corner into the living room I smile warmly, it’s the room that Spencer and I like the best. There are book cases lining the back wall, Spencer loves books, I’d ask him what made his books so special and he’d tell me stories of his childhood, his mom reading him 15th century literature, I loved when Spence told me stories about his childhood.

December 2017

I knocked on the door of Spencer’s apartment, it wasn’t like him to be late for our daily walk to work especially because he had been on probation after his time in jail. I received no answer, prompting my concern as I unlocked the door with the key he had given me. I walked into his living room and saw him, Spencer was sitting in the middle of the floor surrounded by books, running his fingers up and down the pages as he does when he’s reading at his top speed.

“Spence what on earth are you doing! Where did all these books come from? We aren’t on a case are we?”

“This year in the United States alone there have been 328,259 new books published, I read at 20,000 words per minute but at an average of 100,000 words per book, it would take me 27,377 hours to read all those books!”

“Oh Spencer how I love you, you don’t need to read every book ever published, are you going to start reading romance novels?” I tease while picking up a copy of 50 Shades of Gray from the ground at Spencer’s feet.

“Okay maybe you’re right, I just feel like I missed so much time when I was incarcerated, all that reading I could’ve done when I was trapped in that place, it's time I can never get back.”

“Spencer, I can’t imagine how difficult it must be for you, but this is not going to help that feeling go away, let’s go to work.” Spencer nodded and began to tidy up the floor before following me out the door.

“Wait, Y/n, I have to ask you something that I’ve meant to say since I’ve gotten out of jail, and I might as well say it now, will you move in with me?” He’s chewing on his bottom lip again and I jump into his arms in excitement, kissing his hair as he caresses the back of my head.

“Of course I’ll move in with you! I love you, Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“And I love you Y/n Y/l/n.”

Present Day

I’m coming around to the opposite side of the living room now, sitting down on the couch in front of the fireplace. I love the fireplace in our house and I think secretly Spencer does too. We argued for days over the safety of having a fireplace in our house, Spencer of course supplied with enough knowledge of house fires to last him 5 lifetimes, “But Spencer it’ll be so cozy, doesn’t it sound romantic to cuddle up by the fire?” I had pleaded with him the day we toured the house for the first time.

“Y/n, there were an average of 357,400 residential fires per year in the US between 2012 and 2014, an average of 22,300 of those fires were caused by a fireplace or chimney!”

“But Spenceee, that’s only 6.24% of the residential house fires during that period, 43.9% were from cooking equipment, are you going to forbid us from having a kitchen too?” Hey, don’t underestimate how useful a cellphone calculator and a quick google search can be in winning an argument against your genius boyfriend. Obviously, we had ended up agreeing on the fireplace, but Spencer was still overly cautious whenever it was in use. As I stood in front of the fireplace I became hyper aware of the floorboards creaking in the hallway just as they had done when I left the room earlier, I felt a presence enter the room and the 6’1” frame of my boyfriend wrapped his long arms around me from behind while burying his face in the hollow of my shoulder.

“Hi, baby, what are you doing up so late? Are you feeling okay? Can’t seem to get to sleep?” I nod back at him and recline my head so it rests on his strong chest.

“I was just taking a trip down memory lane I suppose” I say before smiling up at the love of my life.

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #reader insert

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sotisha · 4 years ago

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Ostara Blessings to all. Today is the Spring Equinox when night and day are both at equal length. If you go out late afternoon you might just catch the rising Moon in the sky at exactly the same time the Sun is about to set. Early in the next morning you can also see the Moon in daylight just as the Sun is rising. In between these two events is a period of complete balance between day and night, Sun and Moon, male and female, light and dark, God and Goddess.

This is a special point of balance, on this day light and dark are equal, but the light is now surpassing the dark as days will grow longer and nights shorter, warmth is taking over cold, life is taking over death, today we truly say goodbye to winter.

This is a time of major transformation for the earth. The great wheel has turned as we pass into a new season. We notice new buds forming on branches, the birds will start returning and animals will come out of hibernation, flowers will start to shoot up and fields and grass will become lush and green.

The young horned God is growing stronger and the Goddess is in her maiden form. The young Sun God takes notice of the Maiden Goddess and the stirrings within them seem to be felt in all living creatures. All the world seems renewed, refreshed and bursting with possibilities.

Ostara is an Anglo Saxon and Celtic fertility festival worshipping the Goddess Ostara or Eostre as she is also known. Eggs and rabbits are her fertility symbols. The egg resembles new life and birth and the rabbit signifies fertility.

The Horned Sun God also known as The Oak King or the Lord of Light, the Gods Pan, Cernunnos and the Sun Gods such as Sol, Apollo, Attis, Ra and Horus are also worshipped on this day.

Eostre, the Saxon version of the Goddess Ostara. Her feast day was held on the first Full Moon following the Spring equinox, the identical time as the Christian Easter when Jesus was said to be resurrected from death. The Sun God Attis who was born via a virgin birth is resurrected each year during the time on the Spring Equinox. The Goddesses Ishtar and Persephone were also both resurrected from death on Ostara.

Ostara is a time of newness and rebirth, it is a time to clean up and clear out all our old junk, this is where we get the term spring clean from. But it isn't just clearing out our homes it is also clearing out the junk and negative energy that we carry around with us. Let the new energies of the Sun and the Spring rejuvenate us. Welcome in the new, breath new life into you and look to the future with hope and optimism.

On your alter add anything to represent and to honor the season such as budding flowers like crocuses, daffodils, lilies, daisies, acorns and seeds. Ostara is a time of balance between light and dark, so symbols of this polarity can be used. Use a God and Goddess statue, a white candle and a black one, a sun and moon etc.. This is the time of year when animals are bringing forth new life too so put a basket of eggs on your altar, it is customary and fun to paint them bright colours before adding them, add figures or pictures of new lambs, chicks, rabbits, calves etc. Add a chalice of milk or honey, milk represents the lactating animals who have just given birth and honey is long known as a symbol of abundance and ever lasting life as honey never spoils or goes off, also bees will start to come out now, offer these as a libation to the God and Goddess..

The Spring Equinox is a time of balance of both light and dark, it is a time to look within ourselves and balance our thoughts and emotions and to find balance in our lives. To embrace our dark and our light equally as one cannot exist without the other. This is a time to stop, relax and enjoy our personal achievements, whether they be from toiling in our gardens, working at our jobs, raising our families, or just coping with the hustle and bustle of everyday life. What we put into life we will get out, what we plant now can grow into something amazing.

May your Ostara be memorable and your hearts and spirits be filled to overflowing.

#ostara #spring equinox #wicca #wiccan #wiccan sabbat

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fericita-s · 5 years ago

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Mating Season (Chapter 1)

This is a Kristoff/Anna story that takes place in an AU where Anna grew up Northuldra in the Enchanted Forest with her family. Kristoff is from a nearby tribe and comes to the forest for a reindeer exchange. It’s the same universe as All is Found, which @the-spastic-fantastic and I wrote together, and a big thanks to her for helping me develop this and for beta-ing. This is part one of three; I’ll post the next tomorrow and the next Wednesday.

Chapter 2 Chapter 3

***

It was no surprise to Elsa that Anna saw Kristoff and immediately claimed him. Wanting an epic love story was something Anna was always dreaming about and talking about and sighing about. Elsa suspected it was more for entertainment than an actual need for love, because Anna quickly tired of the men she spotted and cooed over. Sometimes before ever even talking to them.

She had ruled out every man in their Northuldra tribe. “Yuck! They’re all like brothers or uncles or cousins or feel that way even if they’re not. It’s alright for you; it was very romantic that you surprised everyone including Honeymaren by liking girls. Maybe I’m like Papa. I’ll have to go somewhere else to find it.”

But on their trip to Arendelle when Anna was sixteen, she dismissed the entire kingdom by saying “I do like how tall most of them are, but wow are they obsessed with saunas. It would never work.”

Elsa had laughed to hear that the one trait that made Anna, a daughter of Northuldra, incompatible with Arendellian men was sauna usage and not, say, living entirely indoors or leaving the magical enchantments of their forest behind.

Once a young man with red hair had stumbled into their lands, asking for help and claiming to be escaping the ire of his brothers. Yelana had turned him out immediately, though Anna had said he seemed handsome enough to warrant a hearing before the elders.

Yelana had refused. “There’s something wrong with him. I can just tell.”

At first, Anna’s parents had worried about this obsession she seemed to have with love, but when it didn’t manifest into her doing anything crazy, they relaxed about it. Her mother even intimated that she should be more patient with the men who were clearly interested in her. Anna had wrinkled her nose and shook her head.

“No! I want a story like you and Papa. It’s so romantic. You almost died for each other! I’d get too bored loving a man from here.”

Iduna had stroked Anna’s hair, pulling her close before she spoke. “How could love between two people ever be boring? The person you most admire admires you the most. That's a miracle.” Iduna stroked her hair again, grateful that even at twenty, Anna still enjoyed cuddling with her. “Like boska keeping sickness away or reindeer all calving within ten days of each other. It’s common, but that doesn't make it less beautiful. It’s a daily sacrifice, sometimes of small things and sometimes big.”

So when Anna had seen Kristoff shake Yelana’s hand and told Elsa that he was hers, Elsa had laughed and rolled her eyes. Walking back towards the village, she and Honeymaren had talked about how long it would be until Anna found him “too something” as well.

***

Gathered around the fire, the people of the Black Mountain huddled in small groups. Anna noticed they seemed tense, the lines of their mouth not turning into smiles even when Bruni showed off by lighting torches that had been set in a pattern honoring the tribe’s antler symbol. The ones holding walking staffs gripped them tightly and their eyes were alert and sharp as they watched the festivities. They stayed at the edge of everything, rather than joining in with the singing.

“They probably don’t know the songs. Not everyone knows Northuldra chants,” Elsa said when Anna pointed this out. “Besides, don’t pretend you’re watching more than just their leader. Kristoff. He’s more dour than them all. Some of the others are having fun.”

She pointed at one young boy who Ryder lifted onto a reindeer, showing him how this particular one liked to be scratched behind his left ear. “See? He’s having a good time.”

Anna looked at Kristoff. She had been doing so most of the evening and had stopped bothering trying to hide her glances. He wasn’t paying attention. He was glowering into the fire, eyebrows knit together, arms crossed. “He’s sad, not dour. And I’m going to find out why.”

Elsa linked her arm through Anna’s. “He’s not a wounded ptarmigan or lame fox you can nurse back to health. He’s a grown man. He seems to be doing just fine leading his people. He might just have a different way of doing it than we do here.”

“So that’s a ‘no’ from you on extracting ice memories from him?”

“They’ll be here for several months. I’m sure you can get him to talk to you at some point. Taking his memories seems a bit rushed. And unethical. And possibly crazy.”

Anna pulled her arm away from Elsa’s. She crossed her arms over her chest and stuck her tongue out at her sister. “I’m not crazy. I’m curious. Aren’t you?”

Elsa looked to where Honeymaren was showing a group of children how she could toss a crowberry in the air and catch it in her mouth. Anna followed her gaze.

“Oh fine. Go join her and leave me to my skulking.”

Elsa laughed. “Good luck.”

As Anna watched Elsa sidle up to Honeymaren and hold her hand, her mind wandered to her earlier attempts to talk to Kristoff. He had given two word answers to all of her questions about the Black Mountain (“It’s beautiful.”) and their reindeer (“They’re strong.”) and their strangely shaped saws (“Harvesting ice.”). Even telling him about her sister’s ability to make ice from nothingness just elicited a raised eyebrow in reply, no marveling wonder or eagerness to see it happen. And when she had offered him some dried elk, he had refused, saying that his people had brought their own supplies and wouldn’t start their time together by taking from the food stores of the Northuldra.

Perhaps that was why he was sitting alone now. The Northuldra had been preparing food and drink for the welcome celebration for weeks, but Kristoff was not partaking at all. He sat on a log by the fire. He had his pack resting next to him and there was a reindeer nearby with its head tucked into its side, looking sleepy. There, Anna thought. If a reindeer thought he was kind, he must be. Reindeer were very good judges of character. Anna cleared her throat and walked over to him.

“Would you like to lead the next round of singing? I’ve noticed Black Mountain voices haven’t been joining in with ours. But if you started a song your people knew…we could join in.” Anna smiled at him and he looked up. The reindeer did too and nudged something out of Kristoff’s pack, pushing it forward. Anna saw what it was, clasped her hands together and sat down next to him, thinking that his reindeer seemed friendlier than he did.

“A lute! Do you play? Oh you should play for us! That will be just the thing to make this party seem even more like a party.”

Kristoff picked up the lute and shoved it back into his pack, giving the reindeer a reproachful look. “No , I don’t think I’ll play tonight.” He scratched his reindeer under its muzzle and Anna thought it seemed like an apology for his earlier glare. What a strange man, to be so polite to reindeer and so rude to humans.

“He seems like a special reindeer. Does he always sit next to you during celebrations?”

Kristoff didn’t answer, but she continued talking, looking at the reindeer and extending her hand for him to sniff. “My parents used to let me sleep with the baby reindeer, especially the calves who needed extra care after a birthing where the mother was lost. They would joke about the smell, but I always liked it. Kind of a homey smell, like smoke and sun and dirt and cold. But they never let us keep any as a pet, really. Too hard when we use them for meat and furs. I was six when I realized that herding reindeer meant occasionally slaughtering reindeer and I cried so hard about it that my mother took me on a gathering trip to let me cry without bothering everyone else. Just the two of us. She showed me where she and my father had their first house, or cave, really, and where the best cloudberries are, and how we depend on plants and animals to make us strong, and that we should be grateful for the gift they give us of their strength. It was thrilling to be with only her and not share her with my sister. Sleeping out in the open under the stars with someone you love – I don’t think there’s anything better.” She fell silent, beginning to stroke Sven’s velvety ears, and remembering those baby reindeer she had cuddled through spring nights that had a sharp edge of cold to them despite the hint of summer in the daytime.

“Sven is more of a friend than a pet.”

Anna almost continued talking without realizing he had spoken. She had started to feel like she was telling a fussy toddler a bedtime story, not trying to have a conversation. She tilted her head and looked at Kristoff. “Sven?”

“Sven. Yes. My reindeer. This reindeer.”

Anna put her hands on Sven’s ears, stroking the soft skin. “Sven. I’m very pleased to meet you. Thank you for coming all this way, and I hope you enjoy your time here with the Northuldra.”

Sven grunted and tucked his head back into his side, once more looking like he was ready to sleep.

“Thank you.” Kristoff was looking at her and she was so surprised by his words she couldn’t think of anything to say in return. He didn’t seem to know what to do with the silence either and reached a hand to scratch at his beard, repeating himself. “Thank you.”

Anna thought about asking what he was thanking her for – talking to his reindeer? Not thinking it weird that he named his reindeer and called it his friend? The celebration? The welcome into the Forest? Not minding that he’d refused all hospitality and wouldn’t sing? For sitting next to him? But she stilled those questions, saving them to consider with Elsa later.

Instead, she smiled and said “You’re welcome,” rose, and left him at the fire, still wondering why he was so alone even surrounded by his people and why he was so sad even surrounded by a celebration.

***

“So, Anna. Is she…” Kristoff scratched the back of his neck as he crouched down next to Ryder, both of them feeling the lichen to see if it was wet enough for the reindeer to graze there later.

Anna talking to him over the past few days always happened suddenly, went in a direction that surprised him, and left him feeling slightly out of breath and confused when it was over. Sometimes that was because of the fantastical things she told him, like her sister being able to make ice and the very mountains moving at their request. Sometimes it was because of the way she looked at him, with a curiosity and compassion that was as disorienting as the Northuldra Wind Spirit. He lost his bearings whenever he looked at her.

Also, she was beautiful. Her hair and eyes were bright. Her animated demeanour seemed to make her whole body vibrate, all the time. She was captivating. His eyes hurt from making himself stare at the fire instead of at her during those first few days.

“Is she always so…”

“Friendly? Funny? Good with reindeer and telling stories? Yeah. She’s the best.” Ryder stood and wiped his hands on his sleeves. “Let’s go get the herd.”

***

Yelana had noticed Anna’s interest in the leader of the Black Mountain, and had given her a word of warning about it. “Most men are too emotional and he certainly seems to be ruled by his, sour as he comes across. There is enough to keep us busy these next few months as we mix the herds; I need you tending to the reindeer and not the men.”

Anna gave a dismissive wave, continuing with her work with the mortar and pestle. “Oh I’m not interested in him anymore. He’s too irritable.”

***

The next few weeks were a flurry of movement. Teams of Northuldra and Black Mountain took the reindeer to different lichen meadows and streams every day.

Preparing meals for so many, while not a strain on their resources, did create more work than normal. When her work with her mother was done, Anna was often sent to gather or harvest or catch something to add to the night’s meal.

Ryder and Honeymaren stayed with the reindeer. Elsa circled the herd on Nokk, able to quickly spot and rescue those that were losing in the mating dances and clashes. As the new animals were introduced to each other, there were some injuries that needed tending – both on people and on the reindeer.

Anna helped her mother as she prepared salves and wrapped bandages and directed others in gathering the boska necessary to supplement the diet of reindeer who were expending lots of extra energy during this season.

“Should helping reindeer find mates be this – difficult? And bloody? A lot of them seem to be getting injured.”

Iduna laughed. “Ask your father about that. I think he would tell you that finding a mate is sometimes very dangerous.”

Anna smiled as she smoothed balm on a cut near a tired looking reindeer’s antler. Most of the reindeer were too skittish to be touched by anyone right now, but they had always loved Anna. Her father had said it was because the reindeer could tell Anna loved them.

Anna hummed and sang as she worked, making up silly stories about reindeer who flew all over the world, looking for carrots. At the end of one such tale, she wiped her hands on her work apron and saw Kristoff nearby.

“Nice story. Did you make it up?”

“Not really. Parts of it are from a poem our father read to us as children.” She gave the reindeer a final pat and stood up. She was surprised that he had come to talk to her, but tried to keep her amazement out of her voice. It seemed so out of character for him. He had never initiated a conversation before.

“Ryder told me you were the one to ask. Sven has been acting strange and I can’t figure it out. Could you come?”

Anna looked to her mother who nodded her assent. “We’re fine here for now. No new injuries other than the one you just tended.” They hugged and Anna reached for her bag, checking to be sure it had some of the medical supplies she was likely to need.

As they drew close to the Black Mountain encampment, Anna could hear distressed grunting noises.

“Is that Sven?”

“It is. He hasn’t stopped making that sound. It’s like he’s scared of something, but I can’t figure out what. I tied him up over here so he wouldn’t run off. He’s not as hardy as the other reindeer, he depends on me to help him out.”

Anna reached for the length of rope and began to unwind it from the tree. “Let’s get him to show us what’s bothering him.”

Kristoff reached for the rope, but she moved it out of his grasp. He frowned at her, speaking in low tones that wouldn’t startle Sven. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

She had already unwrapped the rope and as soon as he was no longer tied to the tree, Sven bolted. Kristoff and Anna looked at each other and then ran after him.

“I told you not to do that! He’ll hurt himself for sure now!”

She shouted as they sprinted through the undergrowth. “Well good thing you have me then, I’ll know how to fix him up!” Kristoff stayed silent as they ran. Thankfully, Sven’s path of broken branches and trampled leaves were easy to follow.

They both spotted Sven at the same time. He was at the edge of a stream, looking towards a curve in its path. Sven grunted, stretched his neck towards the unseen spot, and then shuddered.

Kristoff reached him first and put his arms around the reindeer’s middle, murmuring calming words into his ear. Anna walked past them both, ignoring Kristoff’s glare which was sharper than any of his ice saws, to reach the bend in the stream. As she looked toward the place that seemed to be equally terrifying and intriguing to Sven, Kristoff watched as she visibly relaxed, leaned back with a breathy laugh and said “Oh! It’s just you!”

Walking out from the hidden spot, a very round, very white, and very alive snowman came into view. Sven was now shuddering and grunting even louder and Kristoff’s first instinct was to kick at the snowman, which he did, right in the head. The head flew into the water, and Anna ran for it, scooping it up and walking back towards Olaf.

“Oh no! Olaf! Are you alright?” Anna gently put the head back on the snowman’s body and adjusted his carrot nose, giving it a light tap.

Kristoff recoiled and, in doing so, lost his grip on Sven, who ran off in a new direction.

Kristoff drew back again and then began to run after Sven as the snowman said “I’m fine! But goodness. It sure is hard to make new friends. I’ve been following that one for a while and he just won’t say hello to me to matter what I do.”

Anna looked to where Kristoff was disappearing into the woods after Sven and gave Olaf a quick kiss on the head. She turned and ran, and shouted over her shoulder. “I’m so sorry Olaf, but I better go help. Let my parents know, please?”

Olaf adjusted his head as he watched Anna run into the trees, the leaves and and branches parting to show her the way.

***

Anna found Kristoff easily enough, but not Sven.

From the welcome Kristoff gave her, it seemed he would have preferred it if she hadn’t come after them.

“Just leave. I don’t need your help. Your help is what created this problem to begin with.” He was looking at the ground, crouching low and searching for footprints and other signs of Sven.

She rolled her eyes and crouched down next to him. “I know these woods better than you. You’ll probably throw a grappling hook into an Earth Giant’s eye or insult Bruni with your flint so your fire never lights. You need me.”

He rocked back on his heels and looked at her, mystified. “I have no idea what any of that means.”

“Exactly. And I bet you don’t know that the Wind Spirit helped me find you just now, opening up paths that I wouldn’t have noticed except for her guidance.”

“I still have no idea what you’re talking about.” He stood and kept searching for any sign of Sven’s path, turning over leaves and looking at trees for scratch marks.

Anna cupped her hands around her mouth and sang a series of notes. “Wind Spirit? Can you show us?”

Kristoff felt a gust of wind ruffle his hair and he looked up to see a new path open in the forest. A bit of Sven’s harness lay on the ground. Kristoff ran to it and picked it up. “It’s his!”

“I know. So trust me that I know these woods and if you want to find Sven, you need me.”

Kristoff looked at her, sighed, and nodded. They began walking on the path that the Wind Spirit cleared for them. Anna watched as his hands clenched the harness.

***

It was dark and they still hadn’t found Sven. Anna spoke to Bruni and got a fire going. At Kristoff’s questioning look, she explained that the light might attract Sven.

“I’m sure he’s fine. I’ve asked Bruni and the Wind Spirit to look out for him and they’ll let the Earth Giants and Nokk know as well. We’ll find him. But for now, rest. It’s too far and too dark to go home tonight.”

Kristoff had been leaning on a tree, tired from the chase through the woods and worried about his friend. He walked closer to the fire and sat down with a sigh, rubbing his hands over his eyes.

“Olaf can sometimes be over eager to make new friends.” She looked at Kristoff and felt a heat rise in her face. “Olaf and I can both be over eager to make friends. I’m sorry that Sven was frightened. And that he ran when I untied him. And I’m sorry that you’re stuck with me when you clearly don’t want to be.“

Kristoff looked at her as she opened her bag and searched through its contents. “I’m not sorry.”

Anna looked up from her bag and gave a small laugh. “I know. You seem very happy to be rude and angry. Not that I don’t understand your worry or anger, but try to remember that I am helping you.”

Kristoff rubbed his hands over his eyes again and shook his head. “No, no, I mean I’m not sorry you’re here, helping me. I’d be lost in these woods without you. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before.” He opened the small bag that had been strapped to his back and pulled out some pieces of thinbread, offering her some. Anna reached for it, staying quiet. After her continuous monologues during their search and his silence, he finally seemed willing to talk.

“So much of this year has been like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

He paused, and Anna hazarded a small “Oh?” hoping he would say more. After a bite of the thinbread and a wipe of his mouth on his sleeve, he continued.

“I wanted to expand our trading routes. We get great ice near the Back Mountain and I had the idea that we could bring it further south to towns and villages we've never traded with. We're so far north - we've traded reindeer with Northuldra before and some with the tribe that used to be near the North Mountain, but never Arendelle. Never on the coast.” He reached into his bag again and pulled out a skin of water, offering it to her. She took a sip and then handed it back.

“I’ve been there, it was such a bustling port with so much to see. It was my father’s home once. Did you like it?”

He shook his head, and took another bite, chewing a bit before he continued. “Well no, not exactly. Too many people. But I did show my father that ice was as big of a business as reindeer. Reindeer herding has good years and bad, but the ice is more dependable. We sold what we had and brought back a lot in trade.”

Anna stayed silent, hoping he would say more to fill the empty space around the fire, the absence of Sven and both of their tribes making the forest seem larger and quieter than she was used to. She also wondered at his reference to his father – the father that would be the leader of the Black Mountain if he was still alive. Her heart thudded as she realized what that meant.

“We brought back a lot, including a sickness we'd never seen before. Our healer died while treating people. Almost every family lost someone. My parents both died and suddenly I was the leader. The leader who had caused the problem in the first place. And now we’re at the mercy of others. And asking for help all the time, and…” He trailed off, and shook his head again.

Anna covered his hand with hers and squeezed. “Kristoff, a sickness like that, it's unpredictable. Maybe you would have spared your people from it that year without trading. But coming to trade with us could have been as big of a risk. Someone could have brought it to the Black Mountain without you ever leaving. It's devastating, but that doesn't make it your fault.” He looked at their joined hands, but not at her. She could see the steady rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathed, but she couldn’t see his eyes.

“And asking for help isn’t a weakness. It’s a strength. My father says that all the time.” He still wouldn’t look up at her, but the silence felt comfortable. The sounds of the fire crackled and Anna thought about how so many people, like her Uncle Lemek, seemed angry when really they were just sad. And Kristoff had a lot to be sad about. She wished there was a way she could comfort him and distract him from his worries before she realized she had just the thing. She rummaged through her bag again and pulled out a book.

Kristoff looked up to the sound of pages being turned. “A book? You rushed after me and Sven, but took the time to pack a book?” He sounded amused, and Anna was glad her distraction was already working.

“I always have a book. This is the one I keep in my medical bag in case I get bored during a long vigil. My father usually has several on him at all times. It’s like always having a friend nearby.”

“A book.” He laughed a little, surprising her with the sound. “Well, I supposed a book is no stranger than a reindeer for a friend.”

Anna smiled, accepting this kindness. “Yes! And don’t you like stories? Here I’ll read one, let me know if you like it.”

She began the story, using all of her best voices and right as she got to the ending, they heard the low grunting of Sven.

If reindeer could look abashed, this one did, bending his antlers low and pawing at the ground.

Kristoff ran to him and hugged him around the middle. The sight of it made Anna smile. She walked slowly towards Sven, not wanting him to startle again, and checked his hooves and fur for signs of injury. Aside from a few scratches that she rubbed ointment on, she declared him to be in perfect health.

“Thank you!” Kristoff sounded happier than she had ever heard him, the pinch of worry between his eyebrows was gone and she smiled in response to his happy grin. He grabbed her hand in both of his and she felt a rush of pride and a thrill at the touch of his hands, so broad and warm as they held hers. She looked into his eyes, then down at his hands, and pulled away abruptly.

“Your knuckles! They’re bleeding!”

Kristoff opened and closed his hands, suddenly empty. “Oh. I didn’t notice. It’s not bad, probably just from the scrub and underbrush.”

“Still, anything that breaks the skin can draw in poison if you don’t treat it soon enough. That’s why I checked Sven, you don’t want a small cut to become a big problem later.”

Anna pulled out the same jar of ointment and used a cloth to scoop out a small amount. She picked up one of his hands and began to smooth the salve over the bleeding knuckles, and then switched to the other.

“Isn’t that...for reindeer?” She couldn’t tell if he was really worried, or just complaining about the fuss, so she smiled reassurance in case he needed it.

“It’s for anything that bleeds.” She finished her ministrations and lightly rubbed her thumb along his palm, and he gripped her hand once again.

“Thank you.”

She laughed, turning away from him. “You know you seem very ungrateful most of the time, but you’ve said ‘thank you’ four times since we’ve met. I might need to start reconsidering my opinion of you.” She found herself surprisingly short of breath when she walked back to her pack, putting the jar and cloth away. The rapid beat of her heart didn’t still even as she sat down by the fire; if anything it was getting faster.

Now, looking at him from this vantage point, she could see that he was smiling, the slight curve of his lips higher on the right than the left. “Oh? What else do you think about me?” He and Sven came closer to the fire and settled down, Kristoff leaning onto one side of Sven, and Anna the other. She could hear Kristoff but not see him as he spoke. Not seeing him, she felt bolder.

“You obviously care a lot about your people, but you don’t seem to enjoy them at all. You’re too serious, too irritable, too sad. You should have fun sometimes. When you can celebrate and laugh and smile again, that’s when the hard year you’ve had will start to recede. When everyone will start to be joyful again. You might have to fake it for a bit first, but then you really will feel it. And your people will too.”

She could hear Kristoff breathing. It sounded steady, like he was considering her words instead of being angered by them. She began to pet Sven on the ears as she waited for his reply, enjoying the soft feel. Sven seemed to like it too, and gave a soft grunt of appreciation.

“So I should plan a celebration and then everyone will forget about the people we lost?”

She shook her head even though she knew he couldn’t see her. “No, of course not. But give them something joyful so they have new memories too.”

It was quiet again, and Anna was getting used to these pauses he took during conversation. The quiet he needed to hear before he could fill it with words.

“We didn’t do the ice games this year.”

“Ice games?”

“Competitions to carve and cut as quickly as possible. Sometimes there’s even ice racing.” She could hear him adjust his position and Sven lifted his head and huffed a bit before settling back down.

“That sounds great! We should do that!” She sat up, looking over Sven at Kristoff, who now had his hat over his eyes, one hand on the hat, and one hand on his stomach. She was glad to see the ointment still shiny on his knuckles; he hadn’t wiped it off.

He spoke, eyes still covered and sounding slower and sleepier as he did, even though this idea was making Anna feel wide awake. “How? You don’t have a lake here. Definitely not a frozen one.”

“That’s true. But we do have my sister.”

“I-” he yawned. “I don’t know what that means.”

Anna watched as his breathing steadied and he slept. And though she thought about ice games, and what she would need Elsa to do, and what she would need Kristoff to agree to, her last thought before falling asleep was how it had felt when Kristoff had held her hand.

***

“Elsa, please, just drink something.” Honeymaren was extending a guksi, brimming with water, but Elsa waved it away.

“I’m fine. I’m almost done. Just a few more layers.” Elsa pushed both of her hands down and away from her body as the ice she was standing on slowly rose.

Ryder cheered. “Why did we never think to do this? A whole field covered in ice - this is great!” He was sliding around on the top layer, hitting his boot against a pinecone towards Anna who was also trying to skate in her regular boots. She kicked it back towards him and did a clumsy spin.

Honeymaren sighed and shook her head. “We never do this because it’s completely impractical and it freezes up good grazing ground that the reindeer would otherwise use. And even if she’s telling me she’s fine, this woman needs to drink more water. For the Spirits’ sake, Elsa, you can’t shoot that much ice out of you and not need to drink something!”

Elsa, satisfied with her work, walked over to Honeymaren and took the guksi, looking at her with eyebrows raised as she drank. Honeymaren sighed again. “Thank you.”

“Oh Elsa!” Anna clapped her hands together. “It looks perfect! I think this is exactly what he was talking about; just wait until the Black Mountain folks see it!”

***

Anna had been right. Anna had been right, and Kristoff told her so, which made her feel proud and satisfied in a way that surprised her.

The People of the Black Mountain unpacked their saws and picks and sang chanteys and cut for speed and sculpted for beauty and challenged the Northuldra to races along the length of the field, which often ended in piles of collapsed runners with no clear winner, all laughing and scrambling to try again.

Anna stayed on the outskirts of the ice, ready to tend to any injury. She scanned the ice field, but often stopped to watch Kristoff, who was lifting massive blocks of ice with tongs and then throwing them into perfect piles several feet away. He grunted as he worked, and she could see the lines of sweat running down his face, the pleased nods and smiles he gave as others complimented his harvesting.

After doing most of the harvesting in leathers and boots and furs, he stripped to the waist for the last round. Anna watched as the cords of muscle in his back tensed and constricted as he lifted ice out of the field and into the sled for storage. She swallowed, feeling tense as well, like her muscles were also pulled tight.

As the day grew dark, Elsa magicked the ice away except for the winning ice sculptures and a few perfectly formed cubes that were taken to a storehouse for preserving food. The two tribes continued to laugh and talk and occasionally sing around the bonfire, now roaring and blazing into a dark sky.

“Thank you for that. Thank you for making that happen.” Kristoff walked up to Anna, pulling his loose shirt back over his head. She reached for his hands.

“Just making sure you didn’t reopen old wounds.” She smoothed her fingers over his knuckles as he startled at her touch. “And you’re welcome. That’s two more ‘thank yous’ from you. I believe I’ve lost count now.” She smiled and dropped his hand, and for a second she thought he might reach for her hand to hold it, just hold it and look at the fire together. She wondered if she wanted that.

“We, uh, we leave in a few days’ time. And I thought….”

He stopped talking, and Anna watched as he took a breath and tried again. “We lost our best calver. Ryder said you’re good at it – small hands, patient heart. Would you consider coming with us? Back to the Black Mountain? Through the end of the birthing season?”

She should have thought about it more, perhaps. She could have talked to Yelana or her parents or Elsa. She could have asked more questions. Instead, she looked at him, smiled and answered the way she wanted to in that moment, with the fire pulling out sparks of yellow in his eyes and his breath still heavy from his earlier exertions. The dampened hair on his head and the way his shirt opened at the throat to show his chest and the way her hands still mourned the loss of his touch. She had to admit that was part of why she answered the way she did.

“I’d love to.”

Chapter 2 Chapter 3

#kristanna #mating season #frozen #frozen fan fic #kristoff #anna #elsa #honeymaren #ryder #enchanted forest #Anna as Northuldra

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occasionallyish--archive · 4 years ago

Text

Escapade

H.Shinsou x S.Todoroki, H.Shinsou x I.Midoriya, S.Todoroki x I.Midoriya, I.Midoriya x O.Uraraka, and various hints to other ships

Warnings: Slow burn(?), unrequited love, brief breaking of the fourth wall lmao

Have been writing since 03/07/2019

Word count 2810

Reblogs > Likes, pleasepleaseplease–

Lengthiness under the cut!

xx/12/xxxx ; The afternoon ; Outside ; Hitoshi Shinsou

Hitoshi shuddered, hands instinctively reaching to cup over his mouth in some attempt to warm them through his thick gloves. He gave warm, drawn out breaths that helped to spare his lips from the almost burning cold, however otherwise, the gesture proved fruitless– Even more than the occasional, leafless trees that he passed. And so, he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and gave a somewhat frustrated sigh that easily converted into Winter fog.

He hated almost everything about the season– Shivering in the snow, persistent carolers, and the pressure to buy gifts for people that he barely knew. At least he had the excuse to take a break from school and hide inside during the whole of said break.

Regardless, however, the purple-haired male was there: Walking through the snow, toward the mall– clad in two-and-a-half layers of clothing–, with the intent to buy a Christmas present for a bush.

Said bush's name was Izuku Midoriya, one of the famed former students of class 1-A who not only survived multiple villain attacks, but also managed to help get Hitoshi into the hero course. Maybe it wasn't the achievement that he was most recognized for, but it was the one that truly spoke of his sincerity and kindness, in Hitoshi's heart.

...So what if he had a crush? Izuku already obviously had his own on a certain brunette from 2-B, so he knew he didn't have any chance– Having fallen for a straight boy.

As he continued to walk, a bitter taste was left in Shinsou's mouth.

xx/12/xxxx ; The afternoon ; Commons room ; Shouto Todoroki

A gentle sigh flitted from between the heterochromatic boy's lips as he laid on the sofa in the commons room, scrolling through a website that he'd found on his phone. As if to loosen the tense feeling that only Shouto seemed to experience, he hummed to himself, searching through lists upon lists of gifts upon gifts.

And still, nothing.

He wanted to find the perfect gift– Something that conveyed his feelings to Izuku without needing to use words; Something unlike anything else that he had ever even seen; Something special and completely unique, made only for him. That was what Shouto wanted to give his classmate; That was what Shouto wanted to give to his favorite person;

That was what Shouto wanted to give to the boy that he loved. While he was aware that his feelings weren't returned, and while he was aware that they never would be, he was going to tell him, come Christmas. And, with their relationship becoming deafeningly awkward, he was going to ruin the holiday for everybody in class 2-A. And he'd run back to his mother, and cry, and hide from the rest of the world until somebody other than Enji would inherit the agency– And then he'd become a hero through that and never have to see the pro hero Deku, again. He could already see it happening.

The boy with bicolored hair blinked before shaking his head, turning to pick his dead phone back into his hands.

As he stood to charge the pocket-sized computer, a solemn, cold feeling spread throughout Todoroki's veins.

25/12/xxxx ; The morning ; Commons room ; Neito Monoma

Neito was somehow of the first up, slipping down the stairs to see a pajama-clad Tooru, Mina, and Denki. The electric blonde was sitting at the table, 'recharging' himself with some oatmeal topped with whipped cream and banana slices– A combination that the former 1-B student saw disgust in. Tooru and Mina, however, were sitting near their bad excuse of a Christmas tree– of course, bless Ibara for growing it for them, but she admitedly could've done much better–, snooping around to see who got the most presents and guessing what said presents were. And Monoma, of course, was going to be the one to put a stop to it.

"Ashido, Hagakure! Don't be so childish as to peek through the presents! While it is to be expected of you 1-A brats, those are saved for later when we're all up together!"

"Omigosh, Monoma, you're starting to sound like Iida–" Ashido's attention was immediately captured by the boy, albeit not for the reason that he'd been looking for. Monoma's frown grew.

"That isn't the point!–"

"Eh?... 'S too early for this..." An all-too-familiar voice complained tiredly, an open yawn sounding from the same direction. "...Why not be Christmasy 'n cheery 'n stuff, instead?" Hitoshi sounded half asleep, as he always was before his usual morning coffee– Bitter and black, as he often described his soul.

A steel-haired boy– having previously gone unnoticed– then gave his hum, sending a sunshine smile from the kitchen to his classmate, "Coffee's on the pot if you need some, Shin!" Tetsutetsu called, being one of the few 2-A students who could easily bear the early hours.

A thin, lazy smile found its way onto Hitoshi's face. "Perfect timing. Thanks."

25/12/xxxx ; The early afternoon ; Kitchen ; Momo Yaoyorozu

The bushy-haired boy hobbled downstairs with a yawn, fuzzy sock slipping at the bottom– But, of course, a tall ravenette was there to catch him.

"Good morning, Midoriya." The young woman called softly as she gripped his shoulders, easing him into more of an upright position. She chose not to comment on it, as based on the shorter's expression, the near incident was enough of a wake-up call. "Did you sleep well?"

"Um–" Izuku began as they headed toward the kitchen, still recovering from the split-second panic. "Y-yeah. I was really excited, last night, so I think I went to bed, too late, though..." His voice trailed off into more of a tired mumble, which was always adorable– Sometimes, Momo was convinced that she was surrounded by a litter of cute, rambunctious puppies and not the future's greatest heroes.

"Yes. I think that you're the last one up, actually." She commented matter-of-factly, reaching into a cupboard to retrieve a pouch of caffeinated tea. "Would you like some tea to help wake you up?" She asked before her friend had the chance to feel guilty.

Sometimes, Yaoyorozu very easily read her peers. More than just Izuku knew this, as he nodded with his "Mmhm, thank you."

25/12/xxxx ; The early afternoon ; Dorms ; Fumikage Tokoyami

Quite the diverse group was walking through the snow, making the short trek from class 2-B's dorm building to class 2-A's– Said group consisting of an explosive boy, a bubbly brunette, a horned blonde, and a bird-headed boy. Katsuki Bakugou and Ochako Uraraka were exchanging their comments, as the frenemies often did, while Fumikage Tokoyami and Pony Tsunotori kept to themselves.

That was fine, however, as the trip was short– It wasn't long before a sharp redhead was opening the door, laughing at something that his twin-like friend had said. "Come on in, guys!" Eijirou'd said between chuckles.

Of course, Fumikage gratefully accepted the invite to come in, happy to shed his thick scarf and jacket– Even if he enjoyed the cold, he could only take it to an extent. The crow-like boy made a point to leave his garments on the coat rack, for later, before perching onto one of the arms of a couch.

He only observed, for a time– How Ochako easily found her way toward Momo and Izuku, and how two other boys also seemed to be carefuly regarding the group. How Mina and Denki seemed to momentarily deflate when they'd been told their tape friend was celebrating off-campus. How festive Yuuga looked, with his Rudolph-inspired makeup and fake antlers. How Tooru and Nirengeki seemed to really enjoy decorating Ibara's head.

25/12/xxxx ; The afternoon ; Commons room ; Ochako Uraraka

Eventually, conversations around the sofas seemed to float toward Ochako's distaste with being separated from her previous classmates. "Yeah, I've gotten to know lots of great people in 2-B, but kinda miss sharing class with my friends from last year, y'know?" She'd pointed out, which had lit flares of passion in those such as Katsuki and Eijirou.

"I miss my friends, too." Izuku chimed in, at some point, which seemed to easily halt Ochako and Katsuki's oncoming argument. "But, I think it's just natural that we.. Mm, I don't know how to put it. Expand? But, also, well..." The green-haired boy paused, trying not to spiral into a moment of muttering. "And, we can all still see eachother, after classes." He pointed out with a smile, and that was that.

"Such is the way of life." Fumikage added as somewhat of a word of advice.

Ochako couldn't help but notice how Pony folded her hands in her lap, leaning back into the couch as her blank stare and almost wistful smile faced nobody in particular. "I have no idea what you just said." She commented, which did cause some giggles and snickers to sound around their sort of cirlce– Ochako's sweetly humored one, included.

25/12/xxxx ; The afternoon ; Commons room ; Eijirou Kirishima

Everybody who said they'd attend the gathering seemed to be there, and most importantly, everybody seemed to have relaxed. The faux-redhead gave a shark-toothed grin as he carefully slid a headband onto a blonde's head– Of course, as soon as said blonde felt it, his hand lifted for a deathgrip around Eijirou's wrist.

He was glad that his quirk easily resisted his friend.

"Can you guess which reindeer you are?" He gave suppressed giggles as Katsuki's grip lightened, hand soon dropping into his lap. It was nice that the explosive boy's temper seemed to have lengthened– Even if only somewhat, at least something had definitely changed between his first argument with Tenya, and now.

Katsuki shifted slightly, his expression more of a neutral sort of grumpy. "Rudolph?" He guessed the obvious one, an eyebrow raised.

"Nope! I'm pretty sure Aoyama's got that covered, haha."

"...None of the other names are important." The blonde mumbled lowly, head leaned back to ensure only the boy behind him heard that. It was his way of admitting that he had no clue what the other reindeer's names were.

"Blitzen–" Kirishima couldn't help bursting into laughter, and admittedly, a small smile did tug at Katsuki's lips. "Because– Y'know–" He tried to speak between laughs, as he imitated the sound of an explosion.

25/12/xxxx ; The late afternoon ; The kitchen ; Rikido Satou

"Hey– Where are Midoriya and Todoroki?" Rikido asked, just about finished with handing out his festive sugar cookies– Only a little candycane and bushel of holly were left. He set his tray onto the counter as he glanced around the kitchen, no Izuku nor Shouto in sight.

"I saw them head for the elevators," Ochako chimed in, finding her seat atop the corner of the table. "Maybe Deku's giving Todoroki another present? Or– Y'know, the other way around?"

It made sense– Not long after the bushy-haired shounen protagonist had woken up, the group took their turns around the tree to hand out gifts. While they both received their abundance of presents, it'd seemed Shouto was still somewhat anticipatory, an emotion unlike his usually stoic self. Though the brunette gave a shrug, deciding to dismiss that detail, for the time being.

"Oh, well– Todoroki can reheat them, when he gets back, if they're cold by then."

25/12/xxxx ; The late afternoon ; The hall ; Mina Ashido

She didn't mean to eavesdrop, she swore to herself– She'd only been headed to the bathroom, when she'd overheard Izuku mentioning something about how much he loved something. And Mina, being the occasionally less-than-polite person that she was, couldn't help but to stick around, pressing her back to the wall and listening to two boys, around the corner.

"I'm glad– I wanted to make sure that my gift for you was special." She could tell that that was the deeper voice of Shouto, albeit uncharacteristically warm. And maybe Mina was somewhat upset that she didn't have the chance to know whatever the supposed special gift was, but she wasn't going to risk compromising her position in what sounded like a private moment.

"Well, thank you, Todoroki. I... I really appreciate you, y'know."

"And I–" Shouto cut himself off, though, and the pink girl physically recoiled as she realized that now was the moment that he'd finally be attempting a confession. She may not have been the most academically exemplary girl, but she'd been damned if she hadn't noticed every fleeting touch, every shy glance, every missed opportunity that her peppermint peer had suffered through.

She decided to walk away, though, keeping quiet as not to alert the boys. Part of her felt guilty, feeling as if she'd tainted the secrecy of the special interaction.

But as she stepped away, she did catch a quieter, forlorn phrase. "...You're my best friend, Izuku."

30/12/xxxx ; The morning ; Dorm room ; Kyouka Jirou

"The original is a lot less shitty." A certain Katsuki Bakugou commented gruffly, as the plumette experimented with her playlist. At current, she was playing some song called 'Hey There Delilah,' albeit sung in the Japanese that she knew, as opposed to its originally English version.

Kyouka raised a brow, ony briefly letting her attention flit toward the other. "Sure, but none of us can really understand the lyrics." She spoke nonchalantly, pushing herself up to fiddle with one of the speakers that Momo had previously helped her set up.

Katsuki gave his little "Tch," as he turned away, mentioning something about how he had no problem understanding English. And knowing the overachiever, that was likely true, she figured as he left the conversation.

This year, part of class 2-A– and even some 2-B students– had decided that they would be staying at the dorms for the New Year, watching whatever festivities and celebrating behind the safety of their tv. As such, Kyouka, Momo, and an unexpected Katsuki had banded together in lieu of decking out the Heights Alliance, for the upcoming holiday.

They mostly spent time cleaning and setting up a dorm sound system, but if all went well, every second of effort was going to be worth it.

31/12/xxx ; Shortly before midnight ; The commons room ; Izuku Midoriya

His peers had really done well with decorating, Izuku acknowledged for the umpteenth time as he chose his spot beside Ochako. Admittedly, he's been set on confessing for a while now, but never quite found the courage to voice his feelings.

But that was okay, as he gently tapped the brunette on the shoulder– Her cheeks grew rosier than usual when she noticed his outstretched hand, taking it after only a second of overthinking.

Maybe he didn't need words, after all, because he already had a passion in his heart and what seemed to be reciprocated feelings. Their fingers intertwined as the television flashed, counting down to a moment that both anticipated dearly. And Izuku couldn't stifle his shy grin, watching tentatively as Ochako's attention flitted between his face and the brightly-colored screen.

Neither had to say anything. Not now. Not until the rest of the small group cheered "Zero!", and not until they shared a wonderfully perfect kiss.

01/01/xxxx ; Shortly after midnight ; The roof ; Hitoshi Shinsou & Shouto Todoroki

After that, Hitoshi found himself fleeing the scene. Of course, he knew that it was inevitable, but that didn't stop him from hurting as much as he did. He rode the elevator and then climbed the stairs, stopping only once he stood atop the roof.

Shouto couldn't help but trail the plumette up to the top of the building, masking his similar need to escape with curiosity and concern. Considering they were heroes-in-training, it had been unusually easy to do so, to slip out of the room and follow him. Almost concerningly so, as the bicolored boy paused to eye the other's silhouette– To anticipate his next move.

Now, he wasn't stupid. He knew that much as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the roof's railing. Hitoshi glanced over his shoulder to acknowledge the other's presence, sending a silent invitation to join him. With the way that he strode beside him, it was apparent that the youngest Todoroki was reluctant.

But neither had to say anything, for a long time. They simply stood beside one another, gazes focused on the moon or the sky or the city below them. Or maybe even one another. Shouto found comfort in this moment, but he did eventually break away, wanting to allow the plumette to mourn in peace.

But as the other turned, Shinsou reached and gently gripped his forearm. "Hey," his voice was smooth and gentle enough to coax Shouto back, to make him want to return to that moment. And he did, standing closer to his peer, now.

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