#wanted to do something wintery and I missed them

[paris-in-space]

When your husband forces you to come outside even though it’s freezing.

[justporo]

From savoury to sweet

All your friends are invited for winter festivities and you're doing your best to prepare everything for a big reunion. But a certain vampire keeps testing your patience until it ultimately snaps...

MASTERLIST | AO3

Author's Note: Written for the "Delicacies" prompt of the BG3 Winter Holiday challenge and since I'm running this challenge I'm cheating a bit and also fill the "Holiday spirit" with this - because I guess everyone knows the feeling of feeling stretched thin when the end of the year comes around with all the joy and stress it has to offer... And sadly I don't have a sassy vampire to pull me through it *sighs* Happy holidays to you all!

Pairing: Astarion/GN!Tav (You) Warnings: none Wordcount: 1,5k ~~~

The little townhouse in Baldur’s Gate you and Astarion lived in was filled throughout with delicious smells: mulled wine, freshly baked pastries, simmering gravy. Together with everything being neatly decorated with holly, candles and more wintery decor it made for a very cosy and festive atmosphere.

Unfortunately, the comfy mood was disrupted by smells of burning and colourful curses being spat.

Gale and you had been bustling around the kitchen cooking, baking and making preparations, meanwhile Astarion sat at the long table there - one leg lazily dragged up onto the bench. He was reading something and kept stealing brandy infused cherries out of a bowl that always seemed to magically find its way back into his reach - no matter how often you moved the bowl away from him.

The wizard had come over to help you prepare a whole bunch of food. And of course there had been a very good reason behind all of this.

Somewhen when winter had rolled around and the Midwinter holidays had come closer, a thought had entered your mind and been stuck there ever since - and with that a wish.

It had been quite some time since you had seen all the other members of your little adventure group last - or friends rather because that was what they all had become. And you missed them all deeply. But fortunately there could be something done about that.

So, you had brought up the idea to Astarion to invite them over for the holiday to have a nice festive evening together.

Immediately, the vampire’s nose had scrunched up in distaste: “You’re not becoming all sappy all of a sudden, are you? I didn’t sign up for this.”

You had swatted his arm and pouted profusely, feeling a little hurt by his immediate rejection of your idea.

This had been a dream of yours for a long time: having a really fancy and enjoyable holiday festivity with someone to actually share it. Because you never had the chance to have that when you had grown up on the streets of Baldur’s Gate.

The closest you’d ever gotten to a holiday celebration had been sharing a stolen pie with some other urchins while you had huddled somewhere under tattered blankets, trying to escape the cold.

When you had painted that picture for Astarion (maybe purposefully laying it on thickly), his sassy attitude had immediately fallen. You had seen some of your past hurt mirrored in his red eyes. With a small sigh he had hooked his thumb on your chin and promised you to give you the holiday festivity you had always dreamt of.

“But”, he had immediately added when you had already started jumping up and down joyfully, “no one and I mean none of them will stay with us, darling. I had enough of sharing camp with all these buffoons for a lifetime - for all of immortality even.”

You had brushed off his sarcastic words quickly and had sent out letters to all your friends the following day. Answers had come in slow and sporadically since then - but that surely only meant that everyone was just very busy. Right?

But once you had started to think about what dishes you all wanted to prepare for this evening, how to get everything festive and whatnot, all these worries had quickly been forgotten. Gale had immediately been enlisted as your aid to tackle the massive task - obviously not taking no for an answer.

So there you were: a prodigy wizard and a former thief slaving away in the kitchen for almost a whole day in preparation for holiday dinner. Meanwhile a vampire was contributing nothing to the efforts - except if you counted his snide remarks (and of those he contributed many).

Every surface in the kitchen was filled with already finished dishes, loose ingredients or heaps of dirty pots, pans and utensils. Together with Gale you had prepared little filled pies as a starter, a variety of sides for the main course of different picks of meats and fish and sauces to compliment everything.

Almost all of it was done being prepped for dinner.  Now only your baked dessert was missing. And of course that had been where things had went awry. Your nerves had been on edge already, stressing how everything would go. Gale had not been helping with his unhelpful-helpful commentary. And not even to mention your vampire just lounging there on the bench like a cat, making it a point to annoy you even more with his sassy manner.

And you had reached your breaking point when you had pulled a completely burnt cake from the oven, covering up the delicious other smells while a small smoke cloud had erupted in the middle of the kitchen and Astarion hadn’t been able to keep his mouth shut about it.

“Oh love, I mean, I am no expert by any means, but I do think that’s a bit dark even for a dark chocolate cake,” he’d commented while he had barely even lifted his eyes from his book, one elbow propped up on the table and head placed on his hand while he popped another cherry into his mouth.

And that had also been the reason why he’d been hit with a small bun. Caused by your already thin stretched patience finally snapping you had grabbed the nearest throwable thing and had hurled it at the vampire’s head. That thing had happened to be a bunch of sweet rolls you had made as a side. Your impeccable aim had made sure that you hit your mark - and the screech you had let out had probably given it even more force.

Without even checking Astarion’s reaction you had sunk down on the bench opposite of the vampire and had buried your face in your hands while you tried to not let tears overwhelm you.

Astarion reflectively hissed and swatted the gnarly pastry away from him. But then he took in the scene and quickly realised that he had rightfully brought this onto himself.

Gale, who had taken a step back from you in caution with hands lifted defensively, threw the pale elf a sour look now while you suppressed sobs. “Incredibly supportive, Astarion, a job well done”, the wizard scolded the vampire who at least had the good grace to look ashamed of himself.

The wizard sat down beside you and started rubbing your back while he kept throwing Astarion looks. The vampire shuffled around awkwardly for a few moments, not being used to and not enjoying having to apologise.

With a sigh he finally got up and moved around the table and with a “shoo shoo” motion chased Gale out of the kitchen so he could be alone with you for a moment or two.

“Love, I’m sorry,” Astarion whispered as he sat down beside you and looped an arm around your shoulders. Immediately you let yourself fall into his touch. You really didn’t want to be mad at him. Under different circumstances you would have just laughed at his comment.

“I’m sorry I upset you with the stupid thing I said, forgive me?”, the vampire added and softly nuzzled his nose into your hair as you buried your face at his chest.

“I forgive you - sorry I threw baked goods at you”, you mumbled into his chest but you knew he had understood you when you felt the soft rumble of his laughter run through his whole body.

“It’s all good, my love. I got what I deserved and may I add: incredible aim. You’ve not lost your touch since the end of our grand adventure”, Astarion added and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

You relaxed a little and just sat there with him for a few moments as you felt that your breathing slowly became normal again and some tension leaving your body. Astarion just held you.

After a while the vampire dragged over the bowl of liquor drenched fruit he’d been stealing out of. “Cherry, my sweet?”, he asked and with that made you look up again. He was holding the sticky fruit between his thumb and index and winked at you.

And for some reason that made you laugh. But when you didn’t immediately answer, Astarion shrugged his shoulders and popped the little treat in his mouth. You whacked his hand.

“No, Astarion! And stop eating those, we still need them!”, you scolded him as your partner pouted at you for being told off.

“Alright, no more cherries, but only if you agree to come with me and get some fresh air”, Astarion proposed. You wanted to protest but the vampire hushed you. “I’m sure Gale can be trusted to not burn the house down for like half an hour alone”, he continued.

You looked at him with some suspicion: “Unlike you to trust Gale with anything but walking in a straight line.”

Astarion rolled his eyes while he already got up and made to drag you along.

“Well, unusual circumstances and the like - you know”, he went on and let his free hand draw circles in the air. You just shrugged, honestly being happy to be dragged outside for a while.

“Now come, love, get your cloak - you need a break from all the sweet and savoury dishes here”, Astarion said and patted your butt for some motivation.You grinned at him: “Alright, except for that one sweet snack, my dear.”

Tag list: @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @darlingxdragon

[coqxettee]

How to romanticise January 🦢✩₊˚☁️⋆☾🌬₊✧

Happy first week of January completed!

I know January can be one of the dullest & hardest months, especially because Christmas is over, it’s still wintery & cold and it’s back to “normality” but here are some things you can do to make January a beautiful and cozy month ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Embrace the beauty of new beginning’s. Have an everything shower, create a new schedule, tidy your bedroom/space, organise your work, clean, plan a glow-up/plan for the new year. It’s a new year which means new beginnings so embrace these changes. Change can be scary but it is needed and can be beautiful ₊˚⊹♡

Invest in YOU. Save up money (or use money from Christmas) to get your hair done, a new manicure, buy a new item of clothing, invest in self care products i.e - A new robe/fluffy dressing gown, skincare products, new January pyjamas etc ₊˚⊹♡

Journal. Purchase a journal and practice journaling. You can do morning/night journalling, or write about what you did that day. There are loads of Journal prompts on Pinterest ₊˚⊹♡

Wear white’s, creams, beige’s, baby pink’s, grey’s & browns. Neutral colours look stunning this time of year, especially when there it’s frost on the ground or it’s raining outside. Perfect for outfit pictures ₊˚⊹♡

Bundle up in your nicest coat and scarf and go on a wintery walk. Take outfit pictures and listen to romantic music as you walk. Bring back dead leaves from the trees and press them to create a winter journal page ₊˚⊹♡

Bake - Bake anything. The new year is the perfect time to try new recipes, maybe try some healthy baking recipes. Take photos of them and write the recipes down in a notebook ₊˚⊹♡

Have cozy movie marathons, watch your favorite comfort films under huge blankets with hot cocoa, in a cute mug ₊˚⊹♡

Heal your inner child. Listen to classical music, ballet music and movie soundtracks, to take you far away to whimsical places. Light candles, watch nostalgic movies & tv shows, read your childhood favourite books ₊˚⊹♡

Eat warming, nourishing and comforting foods. January can be one of the coldest and hardest months for your body and mind, nourish your soul with warm soups, hot drinks etc ₊˚⊹♡

Start new habits/hobbies, Yoga, Pilates, (Working out in general) Painting, Crochet. Having a new hobby means you can always go back to it in the year ₊˚⊹♡

Read - Create a new TBR if you haven’t and start it at the top. Read new books and make your way through the list ₊˚⊹♡

Try frosty “Cold Girl” makeup with beige undertones for January. Try a new lip colour or put something shimmery on your eyelids. Also, give your makeup a clean (your brushes, palettes etc) ₊˚⊹♡

Take care of your skin babydoll. Use a moisturiser after showering, wear hand cream, use a good winter primer for your makeup, always take your makeup off in the evening and never miss a morning/evening of winter skincare. This is when your skin needs it the most ₊˚⊹♡

Get a new daily coffee order/go to coffee order at your local coffee shop. Try something new ₊˚⊹♡

Try going on daily walks ₊˚⊹♡

Self care nights at least once a week (working week) and set aside Sunday’s to have self care DAY’S ₊˚⊹♡

Start a new TV series ₊˚⊹♡

Limit screen time ₊˚⊹♡

Make lists of things you want to go that day ₊˚⊹♡

[gaypleasantview]

Day 5: Wonderful Christmastime // Clothing Set

Set includes:

⋆ spannersims' AF Dawn Sweaters, converted from TS4 on keoni's 4t2 EP11SweaterFrench mesh

⋆ GenericFan's AM Knifty Sweater (Pride & Holiday), converted from TS4 on lowedeus' 4t2 SP17 Sweater Crochet mesh

⋆ Miss Ruby Bird's AM Winter Sweaters for the Boys, converted from TS4 on lowedeus' 4t2 SP17 Sweater Crochet mesh

⋆ Miss Ruby Bird's CU Winter Sweater Recolor, converted from TS4 on RentedSpace's 4t2 EF13SweaterFairIsle mesh

⋆ spannersims' Holly Jolly Hat, converted from TS4 on MDP's 4t2 EP05Santa mesh

Link, swatch and more info under the cut ♡

Hi! Happy holidays to everyone celebrating! I'm thinking of maybe sharing a couple more gifts before the end of the year now that I have a little more free time. May not be the most traditional way of doing an advent calendar ever but it's more true to my culture that way, anyway. And yay, presents!

Today I wanted to bring you something really wintery so I converted a bunch of sweaters and a Santa hat! I didn't feel like having another breakdown meshing clothes so I looked for some recolors for TS4 meshes that have already been converted by amazing people in our community. Some of these sweaters have a more holiday-ish vibe, and some are just cute thingies that your sims could wear in cold weather. All of them allegedly work as outerwear, too, but I currently don't have the separates mod to check so let's just hope I'm not lying on the internet right now.

Everything is tooltipped and compressed. I tried to name the files clearly so you know what kind of print every file contains, if I labeled something weird it's because I don't always understand pictures lol. No age convesions today, unfortunately. But feel free to send requests, I'll see what I can do!

Credits: spannersims, Miss Ruby Bird, GenericFan for the textures; keoni, lowedeus, RentedSpace, MDP for the meshes; Julia Dreams for some of the original patterns; 4t2 CAS Conversion Archive for being a super useful and fun tool!

☁ Download

Important: all of the AM sweaters (Knifty Sweater and Winter Sweater AM) share the same mesh (lowedeus_TS4sweater_MESH) so please be careful not to put it in your game multiple times. I put it in the shared folder :)

SFS | Mediafire

☁ Swatch

⋆ spannersims Dawn Sweaters on keoni's 4t2 EP11SweaterFrench mesh - AF, everyday & outerwear

⋆ GenericFan Knifty Sweater on lowedeus' 4t2 SP17 Sweater Crochet mesh - AM, everyday & outerwear I think I will convert the solid/striped/Halloween sweaters eventually, but for now I only did the Holiday and Pride ones. The colors on some sweaters might not be spread out evenly due to the mesh mapping. I also edited the lesbian ones a little bit to be slightly more orange and resemble the older flag less.

Pride:

Holiday:

⋆ Miss Ruby Bird Winter Sweaters for the Boys on lowedeus' 4t2 SP17 Sweater Crochet mesh - AM, everyday & outerwear

⋆ Miss Ruby Bird Winter Sweater Recolor on RentedSpace's 4t2 EF13SweaterFairIsle mesh - CU, everyday & outerwear

⋆ spannersims Holly Jolly Hat on MDP's 4t2 EP05Santa mesh - TU-EU, glasses bin, layerable

[multifandomimagines]

Snow Globe - A Tyler Galpin Imagine

Characters: Tyler Galpin x Reader

Word Count: 2297

Summary: Christmas has arrived in Jericho, and Tyler accompanies the Reader to the market.

Warnings: Slight angst - topics surrounding absent parents

Written by: Josie

A/N: Not us posting our first imagine in a whole year?! Go have a read of our last post for context but we’re so excited to be back, and what better time to do that than Christmas! We’ll make an updated post on making requests soon, but for now, I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: GIF isn’t ours - credit to who it belongs to

Things were different in Jericho this weekend… but this time, it’s not in a bad way.

The main square of the town was alight with red and gold and green, and stalls selling all sorts of wintery goods lined the streets for what looked like miles. Christmas music played through the speakers and the town was alive with energy and spirit. Frankly, it was a beautiful change to the often gloomy atmosphere in this town, with the tension between the normies and the outcasts constantly looming. The holidays just make everything… different. There’s no “us” and “them”, just a sense of community and happiness. And Y/N was not planning on missing out on this.

Tyler Galpin had done everything he possibly could to get the day off today - he even managed to talk his way out of working a hot chocolate stall. In his defence, he’d already managed to get his shift covered at the Weathervane, he wasn’t going to accept a job doing more or less the same thing. However, that didn’t stop him popping over to get himself a cup of steaming hot cocoa.

“Tyler,” one of the guys behind the stall greeted him with a grin - a regular from the Weathervane. He must be volunteering, Tyler pondered. “Not working the cafe today?”

“Well, I didn’t wanna miss this,” the boy responded, quickly skimming the drinks menu despite already knowing exactly what he was going to order. “Could I get one hot chocolate please?”

The man nodded, and got to work. Tyler threw his hands in his coat pockets, something he always does when he isn’t quite sure what to do with himself, and looked around at the crowd. He was always very observant, someone who’d much prefer to watch from a distance rather than be in the centre of the action. As he scanned all the people enjoying the festivities, his eyes landed on the one girl he really wished to see today. She was alone, looking intently at a stall of little Christmassy trinkets.

“Excuse me, could you make that two?” Tyler said quickly, before the man could finish his drink as to not inconvenience him too much. God, he knows what that’s like… nothing worse than a customer changing their order when he’s already halfway through making it. If looks could kill… well, the espresso machine would be dead, as if he stared at the customers that way, he’d probably get fired.

“Here you go,” the man said as he passed Tyler down the two cups. The boy thanked him, paid, and set off toward his destination.

Y/N didn’t notice Tyler walk up to her, as she was far too fixated on the stall in front of her. There were lots of small ornaments that would be just right for a gift, and she wanted to find the perfect one.

“Hi, Y/N,” Tyler spoke, snapping the girl out of her trance. He smiled at her, that smile that always made her heart jump. “I bought you a hot chocolate.”

The warmth that spread through her body as soon as her hands gripped the cup was so incredibly satisfying that she sighed, content. “Thank you Tyler… are you sure these weren’t both for you? You saw me and decided you probably should give one to someone else?” she teased.

“I guess you got me,” Tyler smiled. “So… you looking for anything specific here?”

“I want to get something extra for my mum,” Y/N spoke, clearly back in her own mind, thinking hard about what the right thing to buy might be. “She deserves just a little something more. Something special… sentimental. I just can’t decide what.”

Tyler scanned the selection of possible gifts with a critical eye. He had never really had to buy a present for his mother… it had been far too long since he’d spent a Christmas with her, or a birthday. If he was totally honest, he didn’t have a clue what you were supposed to buy for a mother. How could he? He didn’t even know what to buy for his father, the parent that is around. He doesn’t do emotional, sentimental gifts, let alone gifts at all really. Every birthday, Tyler would get ten dollars and a pat on the back, and for Christmas? He’d get a stocking half full of socks, or something else that just proves his dad doesn’t know a single thing about him, his interests, his passions.

Y/N was lucky enough to have loving parents, both of them. Some people in Tyler’s position would be jealous - and in all honesty, he was jealous of a lot of others - but Y/N was different. She really deserved to have the family she did, so he wasn’t jealous, he was happy.

“Get this,” he spoke, pointing to one of the many items on the table.

“What?” Y/N responded, not expecting Tyler to make any suggestions.

“This one, here,” Tyler said, reaching over to the table and picking up a small item that Y/N couldn’t quite see. He placed it in her palm, the slight touch of his fingertips to her hand sending a warmth through her not dissimilar to the way the hot cocoa did, just with added excitement. As he slid his hand away, Y/N saw a little snow globe with space for a photo behind the flurry. Tyler had a subtle but not unnoticeable twinkle behind his eye as he watched the girl he adored shake the glass globe with a smile.

“Tyler, this is absolutely perfect,” She beamed, warming his heart so much that he couldn’t feel the cold anymore. Placing her hand on his arm, she looked him dead in the eye, speaking a thousand words, yet only two made their way out. “Thank you.”

The barista shrugged, feeling bashful as his rosy cheeks hid the blush that was definitely creeping up on his face. “It’s nothing.”

But it wasn’t nothing. Y/N knew Tyler didn’t have his mother around. She’d internally kicked herself after mentioning who she was buying her gift for, cursing her mouth for moving faster than her mind. As soon as she saw his pursed lips and furrowed brow, she absolutely hated herself for being so stupid. How could she be so careless? Way to make a good impression, Y/N, bring up his trauma. Nice one.

So when Tyler’s mouth turned up at the corners as his eyes fell on the perfect gift, her heart grew fonder of him even more so, if that was possible. He just kept getting better and better.

“Walk with me?” Y/N asked him, looking up with eyes he couldn’t refuse as she sipped on her drink. God, he wished he could look into those eyes every single day. “I was gonna go see the rest of the market and maybe check out the fair at the end… now I say it out loud it’s kind of sad that I was going to it all alone,” she rambled. The way he was looking at her, eyebrows slightly raised in amusement, was making her nervous. Little did she know that he thought it was oh so adorable. “So… you can come with me, if you want to.”

“Do you want me to?” Tyler challenged. He wasn’t about to be difficult, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to play with her a little. She was being far too cute, he couldn’t resist a little lighthearted teasing, just to see that beautiful smile of hers as a light blush coloured her cheeks.

“Yes, Tyler,” she replied. “I’d like you to come with me.”

***

A few hours had passed, yet it barely felt like a few minutes. The pair had eaten German sausages, added ornaments to the Jericho town Christmas tree and even had a cheeky bit of mulled wine, for good measure. When your dad is the sheriff, you can get away with these things.

Eventually, the fairground at the end of the market trail was in front of them, rides flashing with bright lights. There was definitely a lot to take in, but they both agreed they wanted to try out the ferris wheel first.

The crowd was very busy that evening. There were families with small kids, teens running around with their friends, and just about every kind of person at the fair, which definitely made it easy to lose your companions in the crowd. Using this as a wonderfully convenient excuse, Tyler reached down and embraced Y/N’s hand with his own, lacing their fingers together. Y/N looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Didn’t wanna lose you in the crowd before we got to the ferris wheel… that would kind of suck,” he shrugged, before heading off in the direction of the large ride. The ferris wheel was lit up a beautiful red, the colour of the holidays, casting a ruby glow on the pair’s faces. As they waited in the queue, Tyler looked down at the girl he wanted to call his, her face a brilliant scarlet, and wondered if you could make a wish on a ferris wheel, as he knew exactly what he would wish for. Funnily enough, he didn’t think ferris wheel wishes were particularly common.

After a short while, the ride staff guided Y/N and Tyler to their carriage as it came around, with the latter helping Y/N on. It could be said that he was being a gentleman, but really he just didn’t want to let go of her hand. As they sat with the bar down waiting for the ride to move, Y/N took a deep breath.

“I have a confession to make,” she said, turning to face the boy. He blinked, taken aback by the apparent randomness to this conversation starter, but intrigue always reigns superior.

“Okay… what might that be?”

“I’ve never actually been on a ferris wheel before.” Y/N breathed. That was it? Thank god. Tyler worried that it might be something much worse. Not because he was thinking pessimistically, but because he worries about her. Because he cares.

“You haven’t?” He asked, and Y/N shook her head. “Aw well, it’s nice. You’ll like it. Especially at night. You can see every single light in the town… it’s really quite beautiful, actually.”

The wheel began to turn, sending the two of them round and upward at a slow pace. After a short while, Y/N learnt that Tyler was right… she could see the town like she never had before. The whole Christmas market they’d just walked through was clear as day in front of her, the trails of stalls painted out like a road on a map. As Tyler pointed things out to her from their height, she noticed him ever so slightly place his fingers over hers as they held the bar. She nearly didn’t notice at all, but the spark that shot through her body gave it away.

“And… that there is the Weathervane. You’ve got the town hall right there, obviously, it’s where the massive Christmas tree is. Oh, and you see that light all the way in the distance? That’s Nevermore.”

Y/N looked around wide-eyed at the beauty she could see from the sky, despite there being nothing quite like the beauty that was next to her. Unbeknownst to her, Tyler was thinking exactly the same thing. His fingers were still latched onto hers, but he ached to be closer. He longed to touch more of her, hold all of her.

“This must be the most breathtaking thing you’ve ever seen, surely?” Y/N almost whispered, still taking in the scene in front of her.

Tyler smiled the unique smile of someone that is hopelessly in love, admiring her as she stared out at the twinkling night. “Not quite.”

His tone caught her, and she turned her head to face him, eyes meeting his. She didn’t realise they had reached the top, and were stopped there, and she didn’t think he had even noticed at all. He did, though. There was something in his expression that made Y/N’s heart skip multiple beats, for it was far too intense for the heart to only skip one.

“Y/N,” he began, playing with her fingers. Really it was nerves, but the girl thought it was ever so sweet. “Can I kiss you?”

When you’ve been waiting to hear four simple words for so long, they almost seem faded and distant, like you’ve imagined it and you haven’t actually heard them at all. Y/N had to replay that one short sentence in her head a good few times before she could register that yes, he had actually said that. She was shocked, to say the least, so all she could do was nod.

The buzz of the Christmas market lowered to a quiet fuzz as Tyler cupped her cheek, admiring her for one more second, before he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. He did it softly, delicately, as though he was afraid she might change her mind, and the ecstasy he felt when she kissed him back was something beyond compare. Her lips were like heaven, the sweet taste of the mulled wine still lingering between them. Their kiss was innocent, yet emotional, and just perfect.

Tyler’s thumb caressed her cheek as they pulled away, both on cloud nine. Y/N grinned as she noticed something different - white little particles now decorating his sandy brown curls.

“It’s snowing,” she grinned, and Tyler laughed as he noticed how a couple of snowflakes caught in her eyelashes. That smile on her lips was so enticingly irresistible - even more so than it always had been - that he didn’t feel sorry for interrupting her excitement for the snow by kissing her again.

And again.

And again.

[thewritingbeforesunrise]

BALLERINA - Chapter One.

A Jake Kiszka AU

Pairing: Physiotherapist!Jake x Original Female Character

A/N: As promised, this is the first chapter of the story about ballet dancer Iris and physiotherapist Jake. I apologize in advance for any mistakes and I really hope you like this. I had this idea in my mind for quite some time, I am so happy to finally be able to share it with you. This story is a slowburn.

Don't hesitate to let me know what you think about this!

Word count: 3.5K

Warnings for this chapter: talking of bad injuries and medical stuff (I am not an expert, so I apologise for any inaccuracies), poor mental health, talking of depression, death and suicide (only hinted at), panic attack, Jake is a sweetheart.

I think that's all. Let me know if I missed something.

If you are interested, you can join my general taglist here.

_________________________________

Dancing had always been one of Iris's biggest passions, ever since she was very little.

As far as she could remember, she always danced.

Even her mother told her so.

Even before learning how to walk properly, she would stumble around dancing to every kind of sound she heard.

Even the random advertising jingles she heard on television spurred her on to move in rhythm.

So it was obvious for Iris, and for everyone else around her, that when she had to decide which career to pursue in her life, she had chosen dancing.

She had to make many sacrifices, but the satisfaction she felt because of her talent and dedication repaid her for every night spent practicing and every party she had to skip through her teenage years, to pursue her dream to become a ballet dancer.

Iris absolutely lived and breathed dancing and she couldn't even imagine what would become of her if she couldn't dance anymore.

~

It was a wintery Saturday evening like many others.

It was very late and the weather was awful.

There was a thin layer of snow on the pavement that creaked softly under her every step.

Big cottony flakes were falling slowly all around her, making her cheeks sting every time one touched her skin, like invisible freezing kisses.

Iris had been practicing a very difficult part for an upcoming audition she had been both dreading and longing for almost three years.

And she was absolutely knackered because of how many times she replayed it alone in her practice room.

She was finally heading home, to her little rented flat.

It wasn't that far away but she was walking fast anyway.

It was cold and she just wanted to shower and go straight to bed wrapped up in a soft blanket.

She was crossing a road on the pedestrian crossing and, suddenly, she was blinded by white headlights that weren't there a second before.

She heard the loud screeching of tires and the sound of a car swerving onto the pavement and a loud crash.

Then darkness swallowed her and everything around her.

~

She woke up in an anonymous hospital room, after two days of complete unconsciousness. She knew this because a nurse happened to be in her room when she woke and told her with a grimace that it was Monday.

The last day she remembered something from was Saturday.

Her head hurt, but she could feel pain everywhere.

She had IVs in both arms.

She took a while to focus on her surroundings, also because her eyes kept closing. It was so difficult to keep them open for more than two seconds without having to close them, due to the bright light coming from the windows.

She suspected it had also something to do with the analgesic they were probably keeping her on, to make her pain somewhat bearable.

She didn't remember anything so started to panic because she didn't recognise her surroundings.

The nurse approached her immediately and tried to comfort her.

"Where am I?" She asked her feebly in a whisper.

"You are at Saint James hospital darling, you were brought here at two in the morning two days ago." The nurse replied gently, trying not to scare her more, treating her like a caged wild animal.

Iris tried to move, but felt a jolt of pain in her right leg.

"No no, darling, don't move," the nurse said, worried.

This time Iris asked her the question she dreaded the answer the most.

"Why am I here?" The girl inquired, voice shaking.

The kind nurse didn't answer her, but the sorrowful expression in her eyes told her everything she needed to know.

She panicked even more.

She could hear the heartrate monitor beeping like crazy on her left. She started to shift her gaze down her body and noticed that her arms were scattered with deep blue bruises and cuts.

Then, with a swift motion, she moved the covers aside and froze.

She had a big loose white t-shirt on that didn't cover her lower half.

It wasn't hers.

Her legs were covered in cuts and bruises, but what made her start crying and her stomach churn were the white bandages around her right leg, starting below her hip and going down to her calf.

The nurse was still next to her and Iris grabbed her arm strongly, stopping her before she could inject another tranquiliser into her IV.

She wanted to be conscious when the nurse answered her question. The girl watched her right in the eyes and spoke.

"What happened?" She asked again through sobs.

"Darling, you were brought here after a car hit you in the middle of the street on Saturday night. Now it is Monday afternoon. You were unconscious for two days." She said and Iris couldn't stand the pity in her voice.

She pressed her further.

"What happened to my leg?" She gestured down to it with a grimace, fearing her answer.

"I am going to call the doctor, he will tell you everything" and before she could stop her, she disappeared down the corridor.

Iris started sobbing again and she lightly touched the bandages.

She winced at the pain and retrieved her hand, immediately.

At that moment a doctor entered the room.

He was a tall, middle-aged man with kind

eyes.

"Miss, you are awake, finally" he said.

Iris didn't even answer his greeting.

She went straight to the point.

"What happened to my leg?" She asked, her voice was harsh and cold.

He watched her closely then answered honestly.

"A car hit you in the middle of the street a couple of blocks away from here. They left you there without calling an ambulance, but some people saw the incident and called the hospital. The doctors stabilized you and then brought you here. You haven't suffered any kind of brain damage, but you have a concussion and your leg was broken in two different places." He came closer and motioned to her bandages.

"You suffered the fracture of the femur and of tibia and fibula, here and here" he pointed at her leg but she didn't see him do that.

She didn't even hear him finish his explanation.

In the middle of his speech her brain had stopped working.

She was transfixed.

The word fracture was burning in bold letters in her mind every time she blinked.

She started to panic seriously.

She almost yanked away all her IVs and the nurses and the doctor had to physically hold her down to prevent further damages.

Iris felt something sting in her leg and the bandages started to soak with dark blood.

She was screaming horribly like a mad woman and they had to sedate her.

Everything around her turned dark again.

~

Once Iris re-emerged from deep induced sleep, she felt even more tired than before.

She couldn't keep her eyes open and her head straight.

She didn't even have the strength to speak.

She heard a voice next to her.

She recognised it.

It was the same nurse, she was telling her something she couldn't understand.

Iris felt her hand lightly brush away her hair from her face.

She felt like crying.

She remembered everything that happened and the physical and psychological pain immediately cleared her mind, unfortunately.

She didn't want to think about it.

She didn't want to think, at all.

At that moment, she wished that the car had killed her instead of leaving her like this.

Alive but damaged.

Deep down, she already knew she wouldn't be able to dance anymore.

A friend of hers some years prior had to quit for minor injuries.

Her heart was broken, her dream too, what was the point of living?

She didn't have one anymore.

She started sobbing and the nurse tried to comfort her.

Iris held onto her and she cried all her tears.

Once she didn't have any more tears left to cry, she fell asleep with the worst headache ever.

~

The next morning Iris woke up really early.

The nurses had called her mother and she was right by her side.

She told her that she was there for a brief moment even the day before but they sent her away because she needed rest.

The sun wasn't even out and Iris's eyes were already open.

She had still that terrible headache, due to the longest crying session she had ever had.

Her mother told her that she was going to get a coffee and asked if she wanted something too.

The girl told her no but her mother left with an expression that was telling her she was going to bring her something anyway.

Since there was nobody around, with trembling hands, Iris decided to push away the covers and inspect her injuries again, trying not to have another panic attack in the process.

She gasped loudly when she saw the clean bandages for the second time.

This time the length of her leg wasn't all wrapped up in white gauze, like the other day.

This time her skin was free, big white patches covered two points of her bruised leg.

She thought about the deep wounds that they were covering and she felt a little sick.

Right when she was about to cover herself again, the doctor arrived.

"Good Morning Miss, I didn't want to disturb you, but since you are already awake…I came here because I wanted to know how you are feeling today" he said with a calm tone.

Iris didn't know what to say so she opted for the truth.

"I am a bit in pain, and I am very worried" she told him and then she gathered the courage to ask him the question she had been dreading for the entire time she was conscious.

The one that she already knew the answer to.

"Please be honest with me, will I be able to dance again?" Her voice was so feeble she didn't know if he heard her right.

He sat down on the chair on the other side of the bed, facing the one her mother was occupying a few minutes before.

Her hands were visibly trembling and he noticed.

After a moment, he answered.

"You want me to be honest and I am going to be." He said, while touching his glasses.

"I don't know. All I can tell you is that, with a lot of rehabilitation, you will be able to stand and walk just like before, but I can't say anything about dancing. I don't want to get your hopes up, but I don't want to tell you you won't dance anymore, either." He said matter-of-factly.

Iris nodded at his words, tears already clouding her vision.

"Right now, you have to focus on starting to walk again and you will need a lot of strength to do that. You have to focus all the effort you used on dancing on walking, first. And I am here also to talk about this. We have a physiotherapist here that can help you. And..." He stopped as someone knocked on the door.

At that moment, her mother entered the room.

She had a small paper bag with her and she placed it in front of Iris. The girl thanked her and told her what the doctor said when she was away.

The doctor went on talking about the physiotherapist and he told her that he was going to bring him there to talk to her, too.

Iris was worried and scared.

He went out of the room to call him and she

waited.

After a moment, he reappeared on the threshold with a young man next to him.

They stopped there for a moment, talking quietly.

Her breath catched in her throat

The physiotherapist was very young and, honestly, beautiful.

He had long brown hair tied in a low ponytail, sweet brown eyes and a perfect smile.

They approached her and he smiled, making her blush.

He was gorgeous and she was beyond embarrassed by her reaction.

Iris was sure she was looking miserable and ugly in her hospital attire and messy hair, so she tried to get herself together as best as she could.

She heard her mother mutter something not very nice about his long hair.

"Mum, sshh" she hushed her with a sharp look.

Unfortunately, he caught the comment, she saw it in his eyes that he did, but he acted very politely and didn't say anything.

"This is Doctor Jacob Kiszka, he will be your physiotherapist. He will help you with your rehabilitation. He knows everything about what happened to you because he was in surgery with me when I operated on you" The doctor introduced him to her and the young man smiled kindly, extending his hand towards her.

Iris grabbed his extended hand. It was so warm and soft in contrast with her ice-cold skin.

It was over too soon for her liking.

She had to forcefully avert her eyes from his, his deep brown stare was too intense. The doctor left him there with her and excused himself to answer the phone.

When the young doctor started talking, a warm shiver ran down her spine.

His raspy voice made her fingers fist the white hospital linen in her lap.

"Hi, Iris. You can call me Jake, we are the same age, no need to call me Doctor." He said smiling and she timidly smiled back to him.

"I will take care of you and your leg, don't worry. May I inspect the wounds? I just want to see how they are healing, so I can tell you when we can start with rehabilitation." He said in a warm calming tone.

He was so polite.

She nodded and he grabbed the cover and pulled it off her body gently, exposing her naked right leg.

She wasn't wearing pants, so she was laying in front of him in her panties and a big white t-shirt. He seemed unfazed as he focused on the bandages.

"Madam, may I ask you to exit while I inspect your daughter's wounds, please?" He spoke to her mother.

Considering her mother's rude comment about him, he was still very polite towards her.

Her mother had to do what he said even though she didn't want to, because his tone didn't admit any contradictions.

When she was out of the room, Iris quickly apologized on her behalf and he laughed.

"Don't worry about it, darling" he said with a beaming smile and then spoke again, focused on her leg.

"Do you mind if I take these off?" He asked, pointing at her bandages.

Seeing the terror in her eyes, he quickly added "I won't hurt you, I promise."

"I am not afraid of the bandage" she told him in a whisper.

"I am afraid of what I am going to see underneath… but go on, I will be ok" Iris knew she wouldn't, but she didn't tell him.

He touched her thigh, his fingers brushed directly on her naked skin, making her shiver and goosebumps raise on her skin.

He started to peel off the bandage, very delicately and carefully.

Once he was done, Iris looked down and covered her mouth with a gasp at the sight underneath.

There was a very long cut down the side of her thigh, the black stitches standing out sharply against her skin. The wound was rimmed with slightly pinker skin. The bandage was clean, the wound was finally healing.

"Are you ok?" He asked.

She cleared her throat and answered with a timid "Yes".

He inspected the cut and, after a moment, he spoke.

"It's healing, but it should be a little more by now" he said, inspecting the wound closely.

"Oh, it's my fault, on Monday I had a nervous breakdown and it started bleeding because I tried to move and they had to sedate me". Iris told him sheepishly, casting her gaze on her hands, embarrassed.

He grabbed some disinfectant and dabbed at it lightly. She flinched a little because of the cold and he apologized.

"You don't have to apologize about what happened on Monday, ok? But, please, be careful with your movements from now on, since your wounds are healing very well. I was there when the doctor operated on you and the fractures looked horrible. Both displaced fractures" He tapped lightly on her thigh, then grabbed a big white envelope and showed her the x-rays.

Iris was shocked.

Her femur, tibia and fibula were snapped in a half.

"Don't worry, the doctor did a great job with your leg. This is the new x-ray" he said, grabbing another envelope.

There were many screws in her bones and it hurt just to look at it, but, at least, the bones were in one piece again. His hands went back to her leg and moved down on her knee.

There, he carefully took off the other bandage and inspected the other wound. It wasn't as big as the other one but still, she had at least fifteen stitches there. He dabbed a bit of disinfectant there, too, and then spoke.

"I think it is better if we wait two weeks before doing some rehabilitation. I am sure that, in two weeks' time, your bones and wounds will be fully healed." He said smiling kindly to her.

Iris was a bit disappointed.

She didn't want to wait two weeks before being able to see him again, but she nodded anyway.

"Now I am going to replace your bandages and then I will let you rest." He grabbed two clean bandages and he attentively put the first one right below her knee and the other one on her thigh.

Again, his touch made her shiver a little, his hot skin in stark contrast with her icy one.

He waved her goodbye and exited the room.

But, she already missed him.

His delicate touch, his beautiful hands, his kind eyes and his raspy voice occupied her thoughts very often in those two weeks, much more than she would like to admit.

_________________________________

Next chapter

Taglist: @why-ami-on-here @sammyslappers @spark-my-nature @highladyofasgard @sparrowofthedawnsworld

[gothicwidowsworld]

Freezing R.S

Requested

The snow was no longer falling, but the early morning air still contained Goosebumps inducing crispness. The slopes were still quiet, only the true brave skiers & snowboarders making the trek to set the first tracks of the day in the fresh white snow before first light. Golden hour seemed to embrace the wintery ethereal landscape, Y/N always thought golden hour was magical. The way the first or last rays of warm sunlight bled across the sky following a billion years old dance across the land. Perhaps that’s why she convinced her boyfriend of two years to leave the comfort of their hotel room to take advantage of the world that remained sleeping around them.

Robert was used to early mornings, but he’d convinced himself that during his time off he’d be able to rejoice in late mornings, perhaps a cup of coffee on the balcony before finally deciding what to do with their day knowing that no matter how much the temperature dropped they had each other. However Y/N’s childlike excitement woke him up earlier than he’d planned, it was nice seeing the y/h/c girl happy and care-free. Despite no longer racing in Formula Two, Robert still had to travel for work as Ferrari’s reserve Driver. The start of the young couple's relationship had been a series of stolen moments between race weekends. With the y/h/c having to share her time between her brother’s own race categories, Robert & her other responsibilities, their time together was few and far between and really impacted their relationship.  

And even now with his 2022 role of test driver & new role as reserve driver the couple were playing catch up. Between his usual fitness program & Ferrari responsibilities the blond was glad he was finally able to spend some time alone with his Girlfriend Y/N.

Charles had recommended the getaway, seemingly the only Leclerc brother to notice just how much the couple needed some time to themselves. The Winter break was always busy, despite being a time for drivers to try and refresh before the next season it always felt like they were playing catchup with all the stuff they’d missed out on during the racing season. The Christmas Leclerc family trip was something they all looked forward to, but January was just for Robert & Y/N. 

“You’re freezing ” the Russian exclaimed in genuine concern, softly picking up Y/N’s cold hands and bringing them to his lips. Robert paused for a second before gently breathing warm air onto the girl's hands. “You’re so dramatic Rob!” the y/h/c young woman teased aching to pull her y/s/c hand’s away from the Drivers tender grip. Y/N had lost true feeling in her fingers ages ago, but from the blond’s furrowed eyebrows it was clear the numbness was hiding just how cold her hands were. 

“Rob I’m fine honestly.” the y/h/c young woman insisted affectionately, but still the look of worry stayed on the Russians face. “You worry about me too much.” Y/N added quietly, she tried to sound serious, almost like a strict parent telling their child off but Y/N’s couldn't help but revel in her boyfriend's concern. There was something about the Ferrari reserve drivers' caring nature that made it almost impossible to be mad at him. “I can’t help it.” Robert replied with a bashful smile finding its way onto his pale face. “So hot chocolate time?” Y/N quizzed the former Prema Driver hopefully, her nose crinkling a little. Capturing the girl’s y/e/c orbs the man narrowed his eyes suspiciously, he was sure Y/N would quite happily remain outside until the sun dipped and the snowy ground was bathed in moonlight. Robert was used to snow, hell he thrived in the snow, especially with cars drifting. He’d gotten some incredible tiktok and instagram footage showing off his skillful control in the innocently white element. But the cold was beginning to eat away at him, something he suspected was obvious by how insistent the y/h/c girl seemed to be in regards to going back inside. “Do you really want to go inside?” Robert asked. 

Shrugging for a second  Y/N nodded, “I’m starting to get a little cold.” Y/N admitted. The snow would still be there later, there was no rush. “Plus I have an idea of how to warm you up.” the y/h/c young woman teased, sneaking forward to place a chaste kiss on the corner of the surprised man's lips before walking away. 

Liked by robertshwartzman, charles_leclerc and 286,715 others

y/nleclerc love spending time with you away from the rush of life (I remembered my gloves this time) ❤️

Tagged: robertshwartzman

arthur_leclerc C'est dégoûtant 🤢

| y/n_leclerc Arthur s'en va ou je le dirai à maman

F2artieleclerc aw sibling love

robertshwartzman I think you mean I remembered your gloves….

| y/n_leclerc no comment

leclercfan4321 they are just the cutest things ever

charles_leclerc enjoy yourselves but come home soon

y/n4ever when is it my turn to be a leclerc… can Pascal adopt me plz

[cryptidsurveys]

Wednesday, October 2rd, 2023.

do you have a favourite sibling? I only have one sibling. They were the catalyst for the recent family drama, and let's just say if I ever gave them the benefit of the doubt in the past, then those days are long expired.

apple or android? I don't think I've ever owned an Apple product.

what colour is the blanket/quilt on your bed? The comforter is light gray. I have several other blankets as well, and those are a variety of colors. One has hunting dogs in an autumn forest, the second has a group of kittens, and the last has a cardinal and holly leaves (kind of wintery/Christmas-themed).

any languages you want to learn? A couple visited the animal shelter the other day and they only spoke Spanish, which got me thinking - yet again - that it might be a good idea to at least learn the basics.

is maths easy or hard? I was decent at it up to a point, but as new concepts built upon my relatively flimsy foundation, things eventually started to crumble. I kind of wonder how I would do now, though - like would my adult brain be better at grasping those concepts, or would it still lead to the same inevitable end?

do you play basketball? I don't.

ever prank called someone? I went through a brief prank calling phase as a kid. I went a little too far, though, and it resulted in the one and only time I've ever been grounded.

ever tried carrot juice? I haven't.

what's an unusual/weird food combo you like? My dad used to eat pickle and peanut butter sandwiches. They aren't something I eat often - I think I've only tried them a couple of times - but the flavor combo wasn't bad. Aside from that, I really can't think of anything too unusual.

favourite milkshake flavour? Maybe something with coffee or peanut butter.

favourite type of milk? I use almond milk most often (in addition to coffee creamer), but if I was going to drink it plain, then I would go with whole milk.

would you rather wear a suit or dress? A suit.

best year of your life? Much of my childhood was pretty good, so maybe a year in there somewhere. And 2011 was great for backpacking-related highlights (I'm really going to miss those days) but was otherwise kind of shit. I think I'm going to go with 2023, though - it started off slowly, but ended on a high note that continued into 2024. There were some rough patches along the way, but nothing anywhere close to what I experienced in the decade prior to it.

how loud do you like your music in the car? Loud enough to hear, but not so loud that you can't comfortably carry on a conversation.

prefer to write or read? Read. These days, surveys are pretty much the only form of "writing" I do.

favourite apps? YouTube and Instagram.

did/does your favourite teacher wear glasses? I don't have a definite favorite teacher, and I honestly can't recall whether the ones I did like wore glasses or not.

how do you like your eggs if you like them at all? Over easy or scrambled.

ever seen snow? I have.

ever gone sledging? Yeah.

favourite holiday? It's so hard to choose. I enjoy all of the autumn/winter holidays. It's not even about the individual "days" themselves; it's about the whole atmosphere surrounding and leading up to them.

is your hair long? No.

do/did you play an instrument? I played piano and clarinet when I was little, and I taught myself to play a bit of guitar when I was in my early 20s. I don't play anything these days, though.

do you have a nintendo switch? Aside from a much-neglected Xbox 360 in our basement, I don't have any gaming systems/consoles.

ever skipped class? Yeah.

ever skipped a whole school day? Yeah.

what is a fruit you refuse to eat? I'm not a huge fan of oranges, but it's not to the point where I would absolutely refuse to eat them.

would you rather gain weight or lose weight? I don't want to lose weight because I need at least this level of strength and stamina to do what I do at the shelter, but I don't want to gain weight either because I don't think my eating disorder brain could cope with it. I'd really like to just stay stable for a while.

would you rather gain height or lose height? Neither.

when was the last time you ate cotton candy? I have no idea.

are both your eyes the same colour? Yeah.

do you prefer to carry a backpack or a purse? I take a backpack to the shelter and on trips to the Mountain Park, but I use a smaller bag for shorter outings.

do you like glittery things? I'm kind of indifferent.

ever watched a play in the theatre? I went to see The Ugly Duckling when I was a child, as well as a play at the community college (some sort of cowboy western musical comedy) when I was around 19-20 years old.

are you naturally blonde? No. Brown is my natural hair color.

do you have a pet rabbit? No.

do you have a pet fish? We used to.

do you have a pet cat? We have three kitties.

do you have a pet chicken? No.

best thing that's happened today? Probably my therapy appointment. Getting everything off my chest that I've been carrying around for the past couple of weeks was nice. I'm going to see a movie with my mom later (Wild Robot), so hopefully that will be a good time too. Praying for there to be nothing more than a little bit of unavoidable awkwardness. Also praying for my ability to set strong boundaries before a little awkwardness turns into a whole lotta awkwardness.

opinion on brussel sprouts? I like 'em.

what colour is your country's flag? Red, white, and blue.

are you studying any languages? I'm not.

how many followers do you have on instagram? I think I have 55.

how about twitter? I don't use Twitter anymore.

are you brave? Maybe in some ways.

how much would i have to pay you to get you to do karaoke? As long as no one else was subjected to my subpar singing, I would gladly do it for free.

would you rather watch a movie from home or at the movies? Home is more comfortable and convenient, but who am I kidding? I probably wouldn't even watch movies if it wasn't for my mom taking me to see them. I wish I was more of an independent movie watcher because there are so many I think I would enjoy, but I'm just…not.

last time you went ice skating? A long time ago.

have you cheated on a test? It's possible. I don't recall any specific instance, though.

painting or drawing? Digital/tablet painting.

art or science? Science.

dancing or singing? Singing.

history or geography? History.

favourite season? Autumn. With winter as a close second.

do you watch supernatural? I've seen a few episodes.

if you could change your eye colour would you? Naw.

what colour would you change it to? N/a.

what is your religion? I believe in God, but I don't follow a particular religion.

are both your ears pierced? No.

[novantinuum]

Fandom: The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom Rating: G Words: 1.7K~ Summary: heart•song (n.): An expression of our most inner being, identity, and reason for existence – what twists and turns of life have led us here, to this dangerous place? And by what strength do we keep enduring? - Or: For a sage to give one their vow, first there must be vulnerability. (A collection of shorts exploring the bond between each sage and Link.)

Some Tulin and Link bonding content for y'all today! I have a lil' one-shot planned for every single TotK sage.

NOTE: This fic contains TotK main quest spoilers.

Enjoy! <3

____

One: Tulin

The bitting air chill produced by the monumental cyclone they’re approaching is almost enough to send a shiver down his spine, downy feathers be damned.

Tulin tucks his wings in tight and scoots himself closer to the fire Link just lit, its delicate flames protected from the merciless touch of this wintery weather within a little alcove they spotted in the ruins midway up the Rising Island Chain. It’s not an impressive fire by any means— not like one of Gesane’s massive hillside beacons— but it’s more than enough to keep warm and cook a quick meal over. 

Of course, resting and eating are the last two things he wants to focus on right now with the well-being of his whole village at stake.

He lets out a faint huff, his warm breath condensing into a foggy cloud that‘s rapidly whisked away by the wind. Restless talons rap against the sky platform’s aged stonework. Nothing about this quest has panned out as expected so far, and it’s super frustrating to him. First his prized bow got stolen by monsters— and that’s embarrassing enough on its own— but then he’s been lagging behind Link all the way up these freezing cold islands… struggling to recover his full stamina after continuous use of his wind burst powers. He just feels… so, so small— so guilty, as if… he’s somehow letting his whole village down if he allows himself to slow down and rest for even more than a minute. 

“Do we really have to break now?” he halfheartedly protests, fighting to keep his beak from chattering between syllables. “We’re like, halfway there!”

“Your stomach’s rumbling,” is all Link signs in response, before reaching into his bag.

Tulin’s features scrunch into a grimace as he realizes the Hylian is clearly attempting to spare his feelings. After all, it’s not a coincidence that Link suggested setting up camp right after watching him lose air momentum and almost miss his landing on this latest chunk of island.

He may be foolish sometimes, may be in way, way over his head up here, but he’s far from ignorant.

Or at least, he’d really like to believe so.

After a minute or so of rummaging through various pockets and flaps, his traveling partner retrieves two metal skewers and a handful of peppers and cubed venison from his supplies. (Good grief, just how deep is that bag?) He’s swift and methodical in preparing them for the fire— piercing their sides one by one, alternating between meat and vegetable to provide a well balanced meal: protein, and something to keep their bodies warm at these near impossible heights.

(For, despite what many of his people would have the Hylians think, there is a limit to how far up a Rito can venture before even their feathers freeze over.) 

But even if he’s anxious to continue their mission as soon as he possibly can, there’s no denying the fact that a skilled warrior dare not fight on an empty stomach. Swallowing the rest of his impatience, Tulin mouths a hollow ‘thanks’ as Link passes one of the finished skewers to him. Clutching it within his feathery grasp, he starts to rotate it over the flames. The two fall into a natural silence in the minutes that follow. It’s quite simple to let one’s mind wander whilst cooking, of course. The eye is so fixed on the outer rind of one’s food— waiting for the fire to provide that perfect, smoky singe— that the auditory senses are left free to explore whatever else they desire. Like the rhythmic crackling of embers from beneath the wood, or the wailing gusts intermittently slamming into the sides of the toppled Zonai ruins that form their alcove.

Swallowing, he traces the path of the wind towards the very edge of the sky island just a few talon lengths away… marvels at how far down the steep mountain peaks of Hebra are.

“Y’know,” he begins with hesitance, forcing himself to glance away from the daunting view of The Down Below, “I don’t think I’ve ever flown so high before.“

Long pause.

He glances back towards Link. His friend doesn’t move to respond at first, clutching his skewer with both hands, but he can tell he’s paying attention from the way he shifts his head, angling his ear so he can catch his voice over the air’s violent whistling. 

“Sometimes,” he continues, “it felt like… I dunno. Like even though I wanted to prove myself to my dad, wanted to explore the furthest reaches of this sky… it just wasn’t the right time yet.”

“And is it the right time now?” Link asks, almost so quiet so as to be imperceptible. It’s actually a little jarring— he doesn’t hear the man speak out loud too often. He wonders why he’s chosen to do so today.

Although on second consideration, the answer may be simpler than meets the eye- it’s probably because his hands are occupied with the cooking.

Tulin clamps his beak shut, considering for a moment. “I— I don’t know. I hope it is. Everyone back at home could really use a turn in this weather.”

His dad, most of all. It wasn’t too long ago that Elder Kaneli relinquished the role and passed it on to him. Seeing the way this duty has washed out his feathers, he almost wishes it didn’t happen at all. Of course, no one could’ve predicted the Upheaval, or this dreadful blizzard. No one could’ve predicted the village would have to reckon with the very real threat of starvation. So having to watch Dad’s dauntless spirit nearly crumple under the pressure all the responsibilities of leadership bring… it pains him. It’s why he’s been so fervent in pushing back against his non-engagement policy this whole time— because the Dad he knows wouldn’t just sit back and accept bare minimum survival when his people are suffering.

His thoughts are interrupted by a faint rumble at his side, likely Link clearing his throat. With a hum of intrigue, he turns to meet his gaze.

“Your skewer’s smoldering,” he says, nodding towards the campfire.

Sharp inhale.

Oh! Oh, yeah—

Thanking his lucky stars that someone was paying attention, Tulin yanks his meal from the flames. He summons a focused gust of wind upon his wing, blowing it across the skewer’s tip to make sure it’s not too burning hot when he bites into it. Well, at least it’s done. A bit overdone, but food is food. He certainly can’t complain after a few weeks of rationing back home. Stomach rumbling with ferocity once again, he digs in. The roasted spicy pepper warms him instantly.

From the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of a faint smile curving across the Hylian’s face.

“What?” he asks, the word garbled within a beak-full of meat.

Link removes his own skewer from the flames, and gestures towards him with the end of the metal stake. “Your ability,” he begins, voice a little hoarse with disuse. “Manipulation of air. How’d you become so skilled at creating such precise gusts?”

A slight laugh escapes his lungs, his body suddenly brimming with nervous energy. “I’m not sure, actually… I was really young when it started, and my memory’s kinda shaky… plus, most people don’t believe me, anyways.”

His friend scoots across the stone so he’s sitting a bit closer, and takes a hefty bite of his own dinner.

“Try me,” he says mid-chew.

Tulin inhales deeply. Oh boy, what’s the easiest way to explain this…?

“Well,” he begins, a cold burst of anxiety rushing through his veins, “it was when I was still a fledgling… still learning how to fly. I was playing with Molli and Kotts in the woods outside the village, and then… suddenly I was alone. Someplace completely different, as if I’d been spirited away.”

He pauses his story for a few seconds to take another bite of his meat and pepper skewer.

“I was in this huge, gigantic forest… even larger than the one I came from! I thought I was lost forever— that is, until this other Rito found me, and led me back to my dad. Like Dad, this Rito was also a warrior— but he had a special power, one he developed all by himself. He could push himself high up into the sky with one, mighty gust.”

Link’s brows raise in noted interest at that last statement.

“I wasn’t with him for long, but—“ Tulin lets his eyes flutter shut, thinking back to those clouded memories with deep fondness— “that day, I promised myself I’d train until I became just as powerful a warrior as him. Someone my people could really be proud of. But then again…” Opening his eyes, he turns towards his companion and gives a big ol’ shrug. “I still don’t understand how any of that could be real. That warrior… my memory’s a little fuzzy, but he looked a lot like how people describe Master Revali, from the age of Calamity. His powers, too… it’s all so strange.”

“How do you think it happened?” Link asks, his expression brimming with curiosity.

“Hmm…” he muses, curling his wing against his chin. “I dunno. For a while, I started to think that… maybe it was a dream. Maybe all my friends were right. But then again… if I’m hearing some mysterious voice calling to me from this storm… then who knows what’s possible? Maybe there’s more to all this than meets the eye, y’know?”

And maybe… just maybe… whatever’s hiding at the core of the maelstrom will finally feed him the answers he’s craved his whole life… finally feed him new purpose.

The Hylian hums, giving a short nod. “I’ve long accepted there’s things in this world I’ll never fully understand. And for what it’s worth… I believe your story.”

After a whole childhood of deniers, the sheer validation laced within those words are enough to almost bring him to tears.  

“Thank you,” he says, his heart brimming with gratitude.

And though this is but a singular moment of validation after a whole childhood of being told he’s got ‘an overactive imagination,’ the pull of the world below suddenly feels a little lighter. Light enough to push through his exhaustion and scale the rest of this rising island chain, at very least! After all… it can’t be that much further to the top. And once they’re there… this whole mystery with the storm, and all the Zelda sightings, and the strange voice he keeps hearing is gonna slot right into place.

He just knows it.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Basalt

Summary: Ruby takes Regina to the Blue Lagoon for her birthday.

Regina bites her nails, a habit she had thought that she had overcome years ago. At this rate she would be spending the entirety of her birthday at an airport. 

Ruby nudges her. “If you want to bite something you can have some of my oatmeal. It's got brown sugar and apple chunks.”

Regina lowers her hand and bites the inside of her cheek which is only a slight improvement. “I'm not particularly hungry.” Apatite is usually the first thing that anxiety takes from her. Sleep is the next to follow.

“You haven't eaten since breakfast.” Ruby passes her the little styrofoam cup and a plastic spoon. Steam fogs reading glasses that she may as well not have put on--she hasn't touched her novel. “It'll give you something else to do.” Ruby urges.

“Thank you.” 

“It’s just a small delay and your birthday isn’t until tomorrow…”

She very nearly snaps that she knows when her own birthday is but she bites her tongue at the last moment. If nothing else, this so called short delay is a testament to how far she has come in regards to how she deals with stress.

“We’ll get to Reykjavik way before then. We’ll probably even have enough time to explore the city a little bit before we have to get to the bus stop.” 

Regina nods. She watches yet another airplane that is not hers take off. With her luck, when they do board the plane, she won’t even be able to sit next to Ruby. Likely she will be sandwiched between two perfect strangers and one of them will have probably neglected taking a shower that day. She clutches her carry-on bag to her chest. Twenty-eight years in the same town, never leaving, never wanting to has left her with an unease around planes and a twitchiness towards airports and their frantic crowds. Some would probably call it karma. 

God, the longer she sits here listening to folks more disgruntled than she, the more antsy she gets. This chair is making her lower back sore. Her neck too. The Blue Lagoon is sounding particularly inviting right now. 

Ruby leans against her shoulder as she forces herself to eat an admittedly tasty spoonful of oatmeal and than another. It certainly tastes better than fingernails and chips of dark brown nail polish. She recalls, at once, why she stopped polishing her nails after leaving the Enchanted Forest. 

At least it isn’t an overnight flight, she reminds herself. At least it will only be several more hours. It is only late afternoon but she is thoroughly exhausted. One bowl of oatmeal later she finds herself nodding off. 

She wakes up to Ruby nudging her awake with new that it is time for them to finally board their plane. 

.oOo.

The view from the plane had been amazing in itself–a first glance at the glimmering, sparkling splendor that they would soon be a part of. It offered snippets of volcanoes and glaciers and geothermal steam. A wintery wonderland with plumes of fire and heat. Admittedly she had slept for much of the car ride from the airport to their hotel. Ruby insists that she had missed out on some spectacular views but at least she can say that she isn’t cranky and moody anymore. Still a touch tired, but she can function now. And the view from their hotel room is nice enough. 

They have a perfect view of the Blue Lagoon whose steam rolls right up to the glass door, beckoning them to step into waters surrounded by black, volcanic rock. Rocks that tower high, teeming with rich green moss. The auroras aren’t out tonight but a steady sprinkle of snow glitters in the soft lights that illuminate the patio.

“Unfortunately I wasn’t able to get thee Blue Lagoon Suite. I would have had to fill out this request form…but I was able to get this Lagoon Suite.” She sighs. “Sorry, Gina.” 

“Sorry?” Regina furrows her brows. She runs her fingers through the curling ribbon tied to a complimentary bottle of champagne. “This room has its own minibar and a private section of the lagoon!” She looks at the pamphlet. “Apparently daily group yoga and Icelandic coffee time is included in this package as well.”

Ruby’s smile returns, she sweeps Regina off of her feet and twirls her around. She lays her on the bed where Regina kicks off her shoes and lets herself sink into a plush mattress. A mattress that is somehow even comfier, more luxurious than the one in her own mansion. She exhales. 

Ruby finds the remote and turns the stereo on. “Want the curtains opened or closed?” 

“Well that all depends on what we’re doing.” Regina raises a brow. 

“I was hoping that we could go for dinner and a bath, unless you wanted to get right to the sex.” Ruby shrugs. 

It still takes Regina aback how blunt the woman can be sometimes. “Actually, a bath with dinner sounds nice.” So long as she doesn’t knock the plates into the bath. 

“I’ll call and order. Do you want to get the bath going? I’m pretty sure that skincare, candles, and some massage oils were included with the stay.” She pauses. “What were you planning on getting? I was looking at the…this.” She points at the menu.

“Rúgbrauð.” 

“How do you do that?”

“Do what?” 

“Pronounce these words.” 

Regina laughs. “I did a little research before coming here. Perhaps I should order the food and you can get the bath ready so you don’t have to try to say kjötsupa.”

“Yeah. That might be a good idea. I was thinking of just saying ‘hot spring bread’ and ‘lamb soup.’” 

After putting the phone back in its cradle she joins Ruby on the patio where they dip their feet into the lagoon water until room service lets them know that their dinner has arrived. 

Regina lets her night robe drop to the floor and slips herself into the lightly steaming water. She closes her eyes and sinks into its warmth. It is, by all means, an amazing taste of what tomorrow will be like. She exhales the stress of the day. 

“Want a massage with your bath and dinner?” Ruby offers. 

Heavens, it isn’t even her birthday quite yet and the woman is absolutely spoiling her. “That would be wonderful, dear. If you would.” 

Ruby’s touch is absolutely divine as her hands work the knots out of her neck. Her meal can wait, for the moment she is perfectly content to lean on the bathtub and let her fiance knead the tension away. The right squeezes in the right spots and the right pressure applied in just the right way makes it easy for Regina to pretend that she hadn’t been sitting tense and stiffly at an airport for several hours.

She will have to do something extra special for Ruby on her birthday. The woman had mentioned Morocco.

“How’s that?” Ruby asks. 

“Perfect.” Regina purs. 

Ruby smiles and ruffles Regina’s hair. “Well that’s all I’ve got. I’m ready for my…”

“Rúgbrauð.”

“Yeah, that.” 

Regina chuckles.

.oOo.

It isn’t as crowded as Regina had anticipated, likely because she has the advantage of being an early riser. Ruby, a woman of the moon by nature, not so much; she is running almost entirely on that Icelandic coffee. 

She seems to have as much fog in her head as the lagoon has steam. 

“Happy birthday, Regina.” She says at last. “I hope that this is a good start.”

“So far, yes.” She certainly can’t complain about a gourmet breakfast. Neither can she complain about having a hand to hold as she makes her way into the lagoon water. Truth be told she hadn’t expected it to be as blue as it is in the pictures. But she is pleasantly surprised to find that it is every bit as vibrant as she had been led to believe. 

Last night’s bath had been exquisite but it is nothing compared to feeling the lagoon water on her skin and the basalt rocks against the soles of her feet. Nothing compared to feeling the water stir against her body as she wades deeper within.

“So we get our silica mud masks over there.” Ruby points. “And our drinks over there.”

“I think that you should wait until at least noon to get a beverage, unless your going for something that’s non—”

“I’m getting something alcoholic.” Ruby interrupts. “We’re getting something alcoholic to celebrate your birthday with.”

“How about we start with the facial mask first?” She suggests. “Personally I would love to start my day with soft skin.” 

“Would you like to try that float therapy before or after we have our drinks?” Ruby asks. 

Regina shrugs. “I’ll see what I’m in the mood for after washing the mask off.”

.oOo.

Ruby grins to herself; it is nice to see Regina in such good spirits. She is so used to seeing the woman all tense and stressed. To see her running her hands along the black rocks of the lava canyon as she glides her way through the water. To see her slow down for a change and pause to marvel at the sights around her. There is an almost childlike sense of awe on her face as she marvels at the small cave—their own, for the moment—hidden corridor for the day.

Regina finds herself a seat on one of several rocks and rests her chin in her palms. For a time she simply sits in silence, watching the water reflect on the cave’s ceiling, listening to its gentle churning. Outside of the cave, another dusting of snow begins to fall. Each flake dissipates well before it has a chance to hit the lagoon’s water.

 “This is…it’s really wonderful. All of it.” Regina finally remarks. “Thank you, Ruby. It means a lot. I can’t remember the last time that I actually enjoyed  my birthday.” 

“Of course, Regina.” She invites herself into the woman’s lap and lets her play with her hair. Regina moves her chin from her palms to the top of Ruby’s head. 

In continued silence, Regina slides her arms around Ruby’s waist. And for a moment she thinks that Regina is going to cry. Recently it has been pretty easy to forget just how much the woman has been through and just how frigid the entirety of Storybrooke had been to her. And how hostile she had been to its citizens. The woman holding her is such a far cry from that; she is a rather quiet woman. Reserved and private. But she is a warm person with a kind smile when she manages one. 

With any luck, Ruby will be able to coax more of them from her. She has seen so many of them in just these last two days. 

“I’m going to make a cake for you.” Ruby declares. 

Regina quirks a brow. “Is that right?”

Ruby nods. “It is. And we’re going to enjoy it on the patio with a side of northern lights!”

“You can’t just order those.” Regina gives a humored sniff. “They'll come out when and if the are ready.” She pauses. “It would be a nice touch but…” she pauses. “This has already been amazing.” She kisses the top of Ruby’s head. “Thank you.” This is spoken in a whisper that Ruby barely hears. 

“Of course, Regina.” She herself can’t really ask for more. Frankly she would be perfectly content to sit in a cracked and battered pool of some cheap hotel so long as she could make conversation with Regina. So long as she could see that smile.

She looks from the diamond on her finger to the one on Regina’s. 

She will get to see that smile. 

Over and over again as they explore the world together. 

Finally, she is free. 

Finally, she has adventure. 

Finally, she has a lover who can keep pace.

[changingplumbob]

York Household: Chapter 8, Part 1

Having made their Willow Creek neighbourhood clean and green, Aaron and Calista are ready to move. The family head to Tartosa and celebrate Deanna's birthday.

A wintery good morning from the snow dusted Yorks

Kelly: I'm freezing

Deanna: Then change pjs

Kelly: You don't tell me what to do. Besides, I'm hungry

Deanna: That's all you have to say

Kelly: What else is there

Deanna: How about happy birthday my favourite sibling

Kelly: No. Just no. To all of it

Calista: Good morning Kelly. Happy birthday Deanna

Deanna: Thanks ma. Wait, something...

Kelly: Who stole all our photos

Aaron: They haven't been stolen. They're in personal inventories

Deanna: But why

Calista: Your pa and I have been talking-

Kelly: You're getting divorced!

Deanna: They aren't!

Deanna: You're not getting divorced, right

Calista: No honeybug

Aaron: We were thinking about our younger years, when we traveled all over

Kelly: When you were unburdened by my awful siblings

Deanna: You exist to

Kelly: But do I

Calista: You know our families haven't always been in Windenburg

Kelly: We're Italian

Deanna: She means Monte Vista gremlin

Aaron: We've been missing the hills and the coast so... we're moving to Tartosa

Overcome with excitement Calista sweeps Aaron off his feet

Kelly: Excuse me I'm trying to eat

Aaron: We're just making sure you know we're not divorcing

Kelly: *gags*

Deanna: When

Calista: After breakfast

Kids: WHAT

Kelly: You can't be serious! I was meant to have a sleepover tonight

Aaron: There will be more room there

Kelly: And my best friend lives across the road here. Who will I pull pranks with there

Calista: Loading screens allow cross world travel

Deanna: Cheer up goblin. You still had to go through a loading screen to cross the road

Kelly: So you're okay with no birthday party

Deanna: I'm sorry what now

Aaron: Let's not jump to conclusions

Deanna: But I'll have a party right? I only turn into a YA once and I cannot miss that cake

Calista: People will know where to find us

Deanna: How

Aaron: It'll be fine

Kelly: We'll probably get stuck and glitch forever

Deanna: Maybe we shouldn't risk it

Calista: It has a separate small set of rooms for you

Deanna: Fine. I guess I can be persuaded

Kelly: This is a bad idea

Calista: Too bad

So we leave the deep snows of Willow Creek and head to the coastal town of Tartosa. To me it seemed the most Italian place on offer at the moment, and I need to reduce how many of my households live in Willow Creek. I built it as I really wanted the separate rooms on the property for Deanna so please excuse the rectangles everywhere.

Deanna's party isn't until midday so the family have the morning to themselves. After a quick shower Calista launches into practicing her speech for her next work shift. Aaron checks out his office then heads downstairs. Deanna sets out for a run and Kelly plays happily in the bath.

With Calista having plenty of out of hours work for her military career the cooking often falls to Aaron. Today he has to make sure we have a cake ready for Deanna. He bustles about the kitchen and produces a quality cake while maxing out his cooking skill! Well done buddy.

As Deanna jogs around the town she contemplates what it will mean to age up into a YA. Clearly it won't mean leaving home since they've just moved somewhere with a space just for her. What trait will she spin? And why did they have to live somewhere that meant each jog would end in running up a hill.

Kelly leans in to bike down the hill at breakneck speed. Yep, totally safe. He's looking forward to finally getting his sleepover tonight. It's only been his aspiration his whole childhood, stupid prom interference. He hopes his parents will let him have lots of his friends over.

Feeling confident Calista sets off for a jog herself as the welcome wagon arrives. That's it Calista, run away fast! The first sim goes to ring and-

ZAP

Electricity courses from the doorbell through the sim, lifting them off the ground. Far away Kelly is contemplating if there's anything to steal.

Deanna: I am so sorry about that. It must have got damaged in the move. I'll just fiddle

Melanie: Should you

Aaron: Don't worry, she loves tinkering.

Melanie: We're your new neighbours

Aaron: And you came to say hello? That's very... friendly. Come on through to the patio then you two

Aaron: You know, you look familiar

Melanie: My husband’s an actor

Aaron: That's it! You stared in Melodies in the Rain with our Devin. Your dark hair threw me

Connor: I knew they shouldn't have made me blonde

Aaron: I suppose it's good not to be swarmed by paparazzi though

Melanie: He wouldn't mind

Aaron: Devin doesn't mind either, I don't know how you actors do it

Connor: Unfortunately hair and makeup often make me look quite different on screen

Melanie: And this one time he had to be an alien

Connor: The suit was impossible

Aaron: Devin's said the critters suits are pretty tough as well

Kelly makes it back before the party starts and Deanna takes a final teen selfie

Aaron: Amore, come meet our neighbours, Connor is actually a coworker of Devin's

Calista: Gosh it is a small world

Melanie: Tell me about it

Calista: Devin should be here soon

Connor: We won't crash your family party

Deanna: Still feels weird to be watched by everyone

Paris: Come on babe, make a wish

Tamika: Hold on, I need to get the angle right if we're putting this on social bunny

Joey: Confetti cannons? I want a confetti cannon

Deanna: It's not your birthday

Joey: For me to use De

Deanna: Oh, right

Several of the family pull horns out of nowhere to celebrate as well. Then the group of Deanna's family and high school friends sing happy birthday to her. Paris is very enthusiastic about this part.

If we pan down we can see Deanna's two nephews have been invited as well. Alfred seems happy enough but Rilian wants to go home RIGHT NOW. I see some of the household want to watch Alfred reach a milestone. I can't be sure as I'm not controlling him but I think it's his first lot of clapping!

Back at eye height Deanna has aged up! She rolled the family-oriented trait *sighs in relief* also, drum roll please, she is the first VALEDICTORIAN in this save! Go Deanna! Updated family photo for the Yorks. No, I still don't know why Deanna got such pale skin compared to the rest of her family.

Deanna has also decided to have a spell of wearing glasses rather than fussing with contacts every day. Time for a quick photo with her friends, whether they want it or not *coughs* Samir *coughs*

Previous Part (Nishidake) ... Next Part

[ink-fireplace-coffee]

more tiny scene prompts (pick and choose!y)

something with a pet

some sad hurt/comfort with or without a cute/happy ending

a wintery date (for Jasper and Agatha??)

Sibling Shenanigans (for the triplets??)

~Morri🗡(@memento-morri-writes)

Hi Morri!!

I chose the Wintery Date because I miss Jasper and Agatha a lot and the idea was really cute! The concept got really long, so I will give you a little treat, and if I finish it I might even post the whole thing on here, who knows?

Thank you so much for the prompt dear🥺🥺

Agatha was going on a date.  No, not a date. A real date, Jasper had said. A proper date, a date she deserved apparently. He had been making promises of said date for almost two weeks now, when he and Agatha had gone to the cinema and she had made the foolish mistake to call it a date.  “What date?” The Prince had asked with a smile.  “Uh, the one we just had? We just came out of the cinema! I bought you popcorn! Rings a bell?” “That wasn’t a real date, Love. And I owe you one, since I promised to woo you, don't I?” And everything had gone down since then.  Agatha had been receiving little trinkets now for two weeks: a snowflake charm, and later a silver necklace. A beanie with bear ears on top. A poinsettia in a pot that was currently next to her desk.  Each one of the gifts had a note attached to it, and the girl thought at first that it was really cheesy of Jasper to write her little love notes. But there were no love words on the cards. Only numbers.  16 57 8 22 She had tried to find the link to everything. A sequence of numbers, a meaningful date for both of them. She had summed each pair of numbers, divided them by four, joined them all together and even tried to call in random orders a few times, wondering what they could mean. Aside from having strangers on the phone with her who most definitely had nothing to do with Jasper and having her hate for math reborn, she had found nothing. And, the presents were nice, that was true, but Jasper hadn’t texted, called or even visited her since the cinema “hangout”, so what was really the point? I thought we were going on a date? She sent the text to his contact on the phone, and waited for a reply.  A Winter Date. A Winter Date. Another little clue that made almost no sense with the rest of the puzzle piece she had. Is this another traditional courting passage from Cheasya and I don’t know it yet? Be patient, Love. And Agatha had to contain herself from throwing her phone across the room at that. Don’t throw your phone. He added a second later. Of course he knew her well. She thought the conversation would end there, but then there was one last notification before Jasper went on radio silence again:  And, by the way, today’s number is 30. Sleep well, Ags <3. “Great. Another number that only he and the Stars know what it means.” Yet, Agatha wrote it down on a sticky note and pasted it along with the others on her desk. She was secretly thrilled, but at the same time, her patience was starting to break completely and, over all, she wanted answers. And why not, she wanted the date too!

----

[send an OC and a prompt?]

[i-hold-horrors-hand]

Baci Sotto Il Vischio

Mistletoe fluff with the Papas and their Prime Movers.

Chapter 3: Terzo and Cassie

(Also readable on AO3)

  Cassie stretched as she entered the suite of rooms she shared with her husband—the old papal suite of one Papa Emeritus the Third. It'd been a long day, and she was eager to relax in bed with him. However, as she made her way into the bedroom, she noticed that he wasn't there.

Odd. He was usually there before she was, waiting for her. "Keeping the bed warm", as he said. But apparently, not tonight.

Wondering just where the hell he was, Cassie noticed a small folded up piece of paper, tied with a small purple ribbon. Untying the ribbon and unfolding the note, she smiled to herself.

Be at the gazebo in the garden at 7:00. I will be waiting, my love.—Terzo. (PS: wear that new dress. You know the one ;) )

She did indeed know which dress he was referring to—a wintery pale-teal dress that she'd bought recently, with white fur trim along the wrists, hem, neck, and attached hood. Terzo had said that it made her look like "that Disney princess in that movie with Idina Menzel, but prettier."

Thoughts of relaxing were now gone as Cassie changed into the dress and hurried out of the papal suite, pulling on a pair of gloves as she went. She didn't want to keep her husband waiting, and she herself was eager to see what he had in store for her.

  The snow crunched under her boots as she made the trek through the garden, an excited spring in her step. The dress was insulated enough that she barely noticed how cold the air was, and her excitement wasn't letting her focus much on it anyway. She was preoccupied with meeting up with Terzo for what was—knowing him—most likely a romantic little surprise.

And he didn't disappoint.

As she neared the gazebo—which was decorated with strings of lovely pale white lights—she saw Terzo standing in it, waiting for her. Upon spotting her, he waved and gestured for her to join him, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Cassie practically skipped the rest of the way, pulling up the skirt of her dress a bit so she wouldn't trip.

Taking hold of Terzo's outstretched hands, she paused to get a good look at him. He cut a fine figure in a white turtleneck sweater, a deep indigo-black vest and matching pants completing the look, with a matching jacket with white fur trim keeping him warm. He looked stunning. As usual.

"Buonasera, darling." He kissed her forehead sweetly. "You look beautiful."

"And you look handsome as ever."

Terzo waved off her compliment, as if to say 'I know', and pulled her closer. "Are you ready to know why I called you here?"

Cassie nodded.

"Look up."

Cassie did so, and smiled. Above them, hanging down from the centre of the gazebo, was a little sprig of white-berried mistletoe, decorated with a small red bow. Of course. She'd been expecting something like this—whenever this time of year rolled around, Terzo wasted no opportunity to get her under the mistletoe. It was one of his favourite traditions. And hers, too.

Looking back at her husband, Cassie reached up a hand to cup his cheek, and leaned in to kiss him. Terzo slid his arms around her waist, pulling her closer as he deepened the kiss, holding her tightly.

"You old romantic," Cassie giggled, once they'd pulled away.

"Oh, but it gets better, dolce."

"Does it?"

Terzo smirked as he stepped back briefly, reaching to press a button on something that Cassie hadn't noticed until just now—Copia's old boom box. Momentarily, she wondered if Copia knew that it was missing, before the sounds of an instrumental version of a romantic carol pushed that thought away, replacing it with one of wintertime romance.

"Dance with me, my love." Terzo held out a gloved hand to her, mistmatched eyes shining with heart-bursting affection.

"Don't mind if I do, tesoro." Cassie took his hand in hers and put her other one on his shoulder, staring into her husband's eyes as they began to spin and swirl around the gazebo.

  Relaxing in bed together could definitely wait. Right now, they were going to dance the night away.

[arjaandsimoni]

Thorns

Houston Texas, midday

Two girls walked down the street together, one seeming much happier about it than the other.

She was dressed in a lovely red silk top with green tights under a darker green skirt, a pair of red buckle shoes on her feet. She had long wavy black hair and several passerby wondered if she may be a child model or something.

Her friend wore a purple silk top with short puffy sleeves under a pastel pink denim skirtall, white tights on her legs and pink tennis shoes on her feet. She also had on a strange silvery sort of choker. She too had long black hair.

“Hmmmm… what should we do today Bestie?” the first girl giggled. “I’m thinking… ice cream, can’t ever go wrong with ice cream… and then we’ll go to the park and find some new friends to play with.” she grinned, but there was an oddly malicious hint to her words…

The other girl whimpered, glancing around frantically as she followed along as if on an invisible lead. Suddenly a huge crowd of commuters rushed past, it was the lunch rush after all, and the two girls got separated.

As soon as they were split up, the second girl stumbled as if something pulling on her had suddenly been released. The girl in pink and purple’s eyes widened. This was her chance! She waited until she couldn’t see the girl in red and green, then turned and raced into the crowd as fast as her legs would carry her!

The first girl looked around, then huffed and put her hands on her hips. “Really now!” she pouted, then smirked, “If you wanted to play hide and seek you just had to say so, silly…” she giggled, skipping off after her, “Okaaaaay then, but when I catch you there’s gonna be a really nasty punishment in store!”

As she walked past the storefronts the flowers on display seemed to bloom brighter, and slowly turned to watch her go…

Elsewhere in Houston

Stephy, Tex, and Sammi walked through the streets, the latter of which was not happy about it at all. “At least this bloody city has some culture to it here and there, but by oak and ash who do I have to complain at to get them to turn down this damnable heat?!” he grumped. He’d gone with a silvery loose shirt and white leather pants with matching boots, hoping the lighter colors would help reflect the heat away instead of absorb it, but even then it was punishing for the princeling.

“Pretty sure the sun doesn’t care how hot you are Sammi.” replied Stephy, though he had to admit he was feeling the heat as well. He’d gone with a loose white top with long flowing sleeves, a long white silk skirt, sandals, and a wide brimmed straw hat, but it was still pretty rough for the wintery changeling. He honestly was beginning to miss Lady Sera’s realm at the moment, if only because he knew he wouldn’t feel like he was melting there.

Tex smiled sympathetically at him, “Yeah, one thing I definitely didn’t miss ‘bout Texas… it gets hotter’n Hell here in th’ summertime…” he sighed, patting the effeminate boy’s shoulder. “We’ll take a break soon ‘n get some lunch somewhere with th’ A/C goin’ hard kay?” he nodded.

Both the faeries gave a very energetic ‘yes’ to this, Sammi conjuring a ball of ice in his hand and pressing it to his forehead as they walked. “The sooner we’re back north the bloody better… every day here is more punishing than the last…” grumbled Sammi. “I swear I’m going to boil away to nothing at this ra-AUGH!” he yelped, falling backwards as Stephy and Tex caught him, the fae prince shaking his head. “WATCH WHERE YOU’RE GOING!” he snapped, glaring ahead of him.

However, sitting there was a young girl in purple and pink… or at least that’s what it looked like to Tex. To Sammi and Stephy however she had points to her ears, and her eyes were bright bubblegum pink instead of any natural color. Her hair was long and wavy, and when it caught the light it made a rainbow sheen. Around her neck was a heavy silvery collar, inlaid with some strange design “… sorry! I… w-wait…” she looked up, staring between them, “You’re changelings!” she gasped, “You have to help me! Please! She’s looking for me!” she scrambled to her feet, rushing up to them.

Stephy and Sammi looked at each other, then Sammi said, “Well, that depends… WHO is looking for you exactly, young lady? It may be in our best interests to pretend we didn’t see you, or even tell them where you went.” he nodded.

Stephy glared at him, smacking him in the arm, “SAMMI!” he shouted, “She’s clearly just escaped! We have to at least get her to the local freehold! Wouldn’t you want someone to help you if your mom found you?!” he scolded as Tex shook his head at the fae prince.

A Freehold was something many major cities in the west had, a sort of self-made community of those who had been taken by the gentry but managed to escape back to Earth. Changed as they were, sometimes gone months or even years, they banded together to make do as best they could.

Sammi rubbed his arm, glaring back. “I’m not saying I don’t feel for her plight, just that some of the Gentry are exceedingly powerful! If they catch up to her and find us with her they may decide to take us as well!” he snapped.

Stephy huffed, “Well I’m not leaving her, and if you’re pledge-bound to me neither are you!” he smirked.

Sammi frowned back, then looked at her, “Right, lets have a look at your collar then… that should tell us who we’re dealing with.” he muttered, cupping the girl’s chin and kneeling down, she was shorter than all of them, looking like she was barely ten years old.

Stephy pouted, “There’s still fae who take them this young huh?” he asked.

The girl shook her head, “I-I’m not a kid! She just won’t let me grow up! I feel like I’ve been there for years now!” she insisted, “She tricked me into playing with her when my parents grounded me and now she won’t let me leave!” she shook a bit at that, “I can’t go back… I can’t… she’s insane… she’s completely twisted. It all looks cute and wonderful at first but…” she whimpered.

Stephy pouted at her, kneeling down on her side as Tex squatted next to him, “Hey, it’ll be alright, we’ll do what we can to get you to safety okay? I can’t really promise it, but if there’s a chance…” he started… and then a voice rang out.

“FOUND YOU!” sang a childish voice as a girl in red and green walked into view.

“Oh no…” she whispered, “Oh no no no no no…” she clung to Sammi’s arms as he saw the collar clearly.

“Roses…” murmured Sammi, “Oh blast and damnation…” he looked up.

“I found you I found you I green and yellow found you!” giggled the newcomer in a sing song tone, striding up to them, “Oh! And you found us some new friends! Goodie! Maybe I won’t punish you so bad for running away! I… wait…”

The girl paused, frowning, “Something about those two is… familiar…” she narrowed her eyes, drawing closer as she pouted a bit, “Blondie girl is really really… waaaaaait… ITS YOU!” she snarled, her face becoming a mask of rage as her irises seemed to widen until her eyes went jet black.

Stephy and Tex stood up quickly, the girl’s head snapping back and forth between them, “YOU! AND YOU!” she stormed forward, her hair blowing in an unseen breeze as flowerbuds began to appear, and then roses burst into bloom.

Stephy stepped back suddenly, Tex’s hand flying to the knife at his belt as Sammi stood, the young girl trying to hide behind him. “Oh shit…” whispered Stephy, “I know who your keeper is…”

“You threw away my gift, broke my toys, set that demon-cursed grownup on me, AND NOW YOU’RE TRYING TO TAKE MY BESTIE?! STEPHEN FULLMOON! I’M GOING TO TURN YOU INTO FERTILIZER FOR MY GARDEN!” shrieked Isolde, the Everblooming Rose.

"RUN!" shouted Sammi, "RUN NOW!" and run they did!

The four of them raced down through the busy streets of Houston, trying to vanish into the press of bodies as the flowers in public displays, shop windows, and anywhere that had them all seemed to burst into bloom around them as they ran. It would look like something out of a romantic comedy if not for the fact that each of them seemed to be snarling insults at them as they passed.

Nasty filthy Fullmoon!

Queen Isolde is gonna getcha! Gonna getcha!

Toy breakers and friend takers! Naughty! Wicked!

The mundanes couldn’t hear them, but anyone with a touch of supernatural that they passed seemed to get the message. Several people immediately did an about face back into stores or buildings they were coming out of, a few watching them go with rather anxious eyes.

Behind them came Isolde, and the crowd of commuters seemed to part for her without even knowing why. She only had eyes for the four she was pursuing, but mainly for Stephy. The other two she would torture into insanity just so he’d have to watch! Stephy looked around, then his knowledge of spotting boltholes took over and he grabbed Sammi and the unknown changeling's hands, “This way!” he nodded, rushing down an alleyway. Three lefts, two rights, shake her off! Stick to stone-covered areas with no plant life! No plants meant she couldn’t see them through their eyes!

The three of them raced down the alleyways until suddenly they hit a dead end. A wide-open area with a single pathway leading inwards, the rest walled off by buildings.

“Stephy, dear sibling, was this what you intended to do?” asked Sammi, looking around. The buildings were too high to get over! Stephy could fly over them, but he could only carry one of them at a time!

Stephy winced, “Guess Houston is laid out different from Covington…” he muttered, “Back home it wouldn’t have a dead end like this…”

Tex chuckled nervously, “Well shoot darlin’ I coulda told ya’ll that…” he muttered.

The changeling girl just looked around, her head snapping back and forth as she began to hyperventilate. She looked like she was on the verge of a panic attack.

Then the door at the end of the alley flew open to reveal the thorns and briars of the Hedge behind it as Isolde strolled out. Her human guise was totally shed, the Everblooming Rose standing there like the haughty fae queen she was in her gown of rose petals and leaves, her hair in full bloom. “Found yoooooooooou…” she sneered, then she snapped her fingers, and the path out of the area erupted in giant rose stems, making an impenetrable thorny barrier!

“No calling that nasty demon-possessed cousin of yours this time Stephen Fullmoon…” she giggled wickedly, “No calling that brutish tomboy of a cousin who wrecked my toys that just wanted to play with your cowboy friend either… The grownups can’t save you THIS TIME!” she sneered, her mouth spreading into a wide grin as her teeth changed into rose-thorns, “THIS TIME YOU WILL PAY FOR EVERYTHING YOU’VE DONE TO ME!”

Stephy stepped back from her, the girl cackling as she flexed her fingers and thorn vines began to grow from any nearby cracks in the pavement. No toys this time, it seemed the Everblooming Rose was being far more true to her name today!

Then, Sammi stepped forward, “Hold.” he said, “I am Prince Samuel of the Icebound Heart, and you have no claim on this one.” he stated, “Stephen Fullmoon has already been claimed by one of your sisters, Lady Sera of the Icebound Heart. My mother.” he smirked, “Do you wish to risk her wroth?” he asked.

This gave Isolde pause, the girl looking at Stephy, “… truly? After all I offered you, you went with one of the SADDIES?!”

Sammi frowned, his eye twitching a bit. “Must you use that term?” he muttered.

Isolde glared at him, “WELL THAT’S WHAT YOU WINTERY TYPES ARE!” she shouted, “All you wanna do is cry in the snow and feel miserable! I at least make people HAPPY! See how happy my bestie is?!” she smirked, gesturing to the young changeling girl.

The girl let out a sudden shriek and stumbled, her cheeks pushed back as her mouth was forced into a huge smile, so hard that her eyes were watering from it! She whimpered, trying to push them back down with her hands, but they wouldn’t budge!

“Seeeeee? She’s sooooo happy to see me! Now we’re going to go back home and she’s going to play dress up with me and watch cartoons and we’ll have all sorts of FUN!” squealed Isolde, but the fear in the girl’s eyes suggested that Isolde’s comments meant something far more sinister than they sounded.

Stephy stood infront of her, “Isolde she’s clearly terrified! She doesn’t want to go with you!” he protested, knowing exactly how little good it’d do. Faeries like her only saw the world they wanted to see.

The girl shook her head behind him, managing to force her jaw to move enough to make words, “I… I wanna go home…” she whimpered.

Isolde giggled, “Well that’s where we’re going silly! After I punish this wicked nasty cheater and toybreaker we’ll go straight back home!” she replied, smiling widely at the changeling.

She shook her head frantically, “N-no! Not there! I wanna go back to my home! With my parents!” she managed to push out.

Isolde paused at that, “Nooooo… you don’t wanna go back to those grownups who were being jerks to you. You want to come back to your real home in my castle.” she nodded, stating it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

The girl shook her head harder, her long hair shining rainbows as it caught the light. “NO! NO I DON’T! I WANT MY MOM AND DAD AND MY BABY SISTER!” she protested.

Isolde stared, her eye twitching, and then she rounded on Stephy and jabbed out an accusing finger, “YOU! YOU DID SOMETHING! YOU BROKE MY BESTIE! IT’LL TAKE AGES TO MAKE HER STOP CRYING ABOUT THAT AGAIN!” she snarled in fury, the thorn fangs coming out once more as her roses turned a violent shade of purple, the thorn vines seeming to double in number.

Sammi stood ready, conjuring a swirl of ice and snow, “Isolde… if you lay a single finger on him the full fury of the Icebound Heart will fall upon your Toyland… my mother will see to that. It will mean war in Arcadia.” he warned.

“I! DON’T! CARE!” she screamed, shaking her fists in fury, “THAT BOY IS HORRIBLE! HE RUINS EVERYTHING HE TOUCHES! I’LL SEE HIM SUFFER FOR IT!” she gestured, and the thorn vines flexed, then aimed towards the group like spears… “Starting… RIGHT… NOW!” she grinned wickedly and pointed, the vines racing forward.

As they did, Tex drew a hand from the Very Useful Deck... The joker was infront of him, but the throne wasn’t empty this time.

"Looks like ya’ll got yerselves in a right pickle… guess I’d better getcha back outta it…" said a voice in his head.

There was a sensation of split time, then a whip crack rang out and the thorn vines shuddered before falling to pieces.

Isolde stared as her rose vines fell around her in huge clumps, “… w-what… no… no no no no NO!” she snarled, stamping her foot in fury, “YOU. KEEP. DOING. THAT!” she threw back her head and shrieked, “CHEAAAAAAAAAAAAAATER!”

Standing before the group was someone new. A tall man, easily six foot, in a long duster coat as black as a moonless night. He wore a matching cowboy hat on his head and was dressed in black vest and slacks with blackened leather boots that had shining silvery spurs on them. At his left hip was a bullwhip, his hand still resting on it, and at his right hip was a revolver… and on his breast was a six-pointed star shaped badge.

“Girl, ya’ll need a lesson in how ta behave.” said the newcomer, looking up and raising his hat with a thumb… revealing a face like a giant crow, beak and all, his black beady eyes focused on Isolde, “The name’s Joker Black. Sheriff Joker Black… ‘n anyone what messes with m’ dealer messes with me.” he nodded.

Sammi stumbled back a step, “Oak and Ash and Thorn… you actually landed that.” he chuckled to himself, “... and your version is a bloody sheriff of all things.” he couldn’t help snickering, “That is TOO perfect.”

Isolde snarled, then lashed out with her thorn vines again, but quick as a blink Joker’s hand was on his whip and with a loud CRACK the vines fell to pieces once more, the sheriff advancing. “Now young lady, ya’ll think I don’t know how ta deal with you?” he asked, if his face could smirk it would be.

Isolde growled, “No… NO! DON’T DO IT!” she spat, taking a step away from the approaching Joker. She almost looked afraid...

“Ya’ll gotta listen, good kids always listen…” he nodded as Isolde screamed and two massive rose vines erupted around him! Joker’s other hand moved in a blur and there were two loud BANGs, and the vines went down with huge holes oozing sap.

Isolde stomped her foot and shook her head, “NO NO NO! DO NOT! DO NOT DO NOT DO NOT!” she screamed, rose vines erupting all around her.

“Young lady…” said Joker in a warning tone, standing over her, “Go to your room.” he said forcefully.

Isolde cried out, forcing her hands over her ears, “NO! I DON’T WANT TO!” she shouted, shaking her head as her legs suddenly trembled, the vines she conjured going limp! She fell onto her back and shrieked loud and wordlessly, like a child throwing a tantrum, trying to drown out Joker’s voice!

“This ain’t a discussion lil’ missy! GO TO YOUR ROOM THIS DANG INSTANT OR I’M GONNA GIVE YOU A HIDIN’ YOU’LL NEVER FORGET!” shouted Joker.

Isolde gritted her teeth, her hands pushed so hard against her ears that her knuckles were turning white, but finally she sagged. “… okaaaaaaay…” she sniffled, getting to her feet and stumbling back towards the door to the Hedge. She gave Stephy one last venomous look, then she passed through the door and a second later it slammed shut.

Stephy and the others watched her go, the fae ‘princess’ staring in confusion as to what had just transpired.

Joker then turned to them and tipped his hat, “Pleasure meetin’ ya’ll, if’n ya’ll need mah help, ya know where ta find me… if Lady Luck is kind enough our paths’ll cross again.” he said, then suddenly he was gone and a card slowly drifted down to the ground. After a minute Tex stumbled forward and collected it.

Stephy finally found his voice, “How… the hell…” he gestured to their battlefield, still covered in slowly wilting rose vines, and the door that Isolde had retreated through.

Sammi chuckled, “Oh, you didn’t know? All of the Fair Folk have a bane. A weakness that we cannot overcome, try as we might. Isolde is a powerful fae queen, but she’s a queen of childhood desires. She’s the eternal eight-year-old girl.” he smirked at Stephy, crossing his arms over his chest and nodding.

Stephy blinked slowly, then cocked his head a bit, “… she… was told to go to her room…” he started, his eyes widening as he put the pieces together.

Sammi nodded, “… by an adult. Why do you think she hates them so much? She HAS to obey them, she doesn’t get a choice in the matter because ‘good kids listen to the grownups.’” he grinned. “That’s why she won’t allow ‘grownups’ in her realm, that’s why she was so eager to come after us knowing we were alone. They are her bane, her weakness.”

Stephy grinned, then opened his mouth before Sammi put a finger firmly over it, “HOWEVER… I would keep this… ‘sub rosa’ if you will.” he warned, “If you think Isolde hates you now, imagine her wroth if you start spreading around the secret to her defeat.” he said, his expression turning deadly serious.

Stephy nodded slowly, “Good point…” he murmured, then looked around, “Hey! Where’d that girl go?” he asked.

Tex looked around as well, but the alley end was vacant save for the three of them.

“Likely ran for the hills first chance she got. Can you blame her?” nodded Sammi, “Rather run and risk a wild unknown in the city than fall back into Isolde’s clutches.”

Stephy nodded, frowning a bit, “I wish we could have helped her though…” he muttered.

Sammi smirked, “You think driving back her Keeper to Arcadia and giving her the chance to escape didn’t? She may certainly have a rough go of it back in the Mortal Realm, but after being one of Isolde’s playthings I daresay she’s better off whatever comes of her…”

Later that evening

The girl who was once known as Iris wandered through the streets of Houston, her mood downcast. She’d managed to find her way to her former home, only to find it empty with a For Sale sign out front. Losing their daughter seemed to cause her parent’s already strained marriage to completely fall apart, and they’d both left the city for places unknown in different directions.

As she walked along through the mostly empty streets she heard something in an alleyway… the girl going to investigate.

“Rrrrf…” came a growling grunt as a large hobo dug through a dumpster, next to him a man and a woman were talking, the man sighing at him.

“Bailey, could you please refrain from that? Its rather off-putting to say the least.” he sighed.

“HUNGRY!” barked the hobo, “Need some grub…” he growled.

“Bailey, c’mon…” smiled the woman, “We’ll get some fast food on our way back to the Freehold, okay? Just stop rooting through the garbage.” she nodded, sounding rather like a big sister.

The hobo paused, “… yeh promise?” he grunted.

The young girl felt something about them, she walked towards them curiously, “Um… hi?” she tried.

The trio looked up, the hobo sniffing the air, and Iris saw that his face was less like a man’s and more like a basset hound’s with big drooping jowls and long floppy ears, “Huh?! Who’s there?!” he growled.

The next one had skin the green of new leaves, and instead of hair she had long flowing vines on which flowers were blooming. She dressed in psychadelic colors, a long skirt and a tube top. “Bailey, relax, its just another changeling…” she said.

The third one looked the most human, dressed in tweeds and a button-down shirt with an honest to goodness bowtie, but with small points to his ears and hair that seemed a touch too fine… “Not just any, look at her. She must have just made it back.” he nodded, adjusting his glasses.

The flower girl stepped forward, “Oh! Oh you poor dear, you must’ve been taken so young… guys we can’t just leave her out here!” she said, looking back at them.

The blonde man nodded, “Yes… lets take her back with us. I daresay an extra set of hands around the Freehold, small as her’s may be, will be welcome.” he nodded, “My flowery friend here is Lavender, and our gruff companion is Basset Bailey. You may call me the Blonde Professor. What should we call you, young lady?” he asked.

The girl whimpered, “I dunno… she took it away, I can’t remember it…” she muttered, her hands rubbing her throat. As soon as Isolde had fled the collar seemed to have vanished, but she could still feel it’s weight there.

The Professor chuckled, “They always do… Hm…” he looked her over, rubbing his chin and noticing the way the light played along her hair. “Just like a rainbow… The Rainbow Child, or Rain for short perhaps?” he suggested.

She looked up at him, then nodded and smiled, “O… okay!” she replied. A few minutes later they were all walking together through the streets, the Rainbow Child looking curious as to what her new friends might be like.

Next Story

Previous Story

[mypoisonedvine]

𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙄 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚, 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙄 𝙡𝙚𝙛𝙩 𝙗𝙚𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙙 || the riddler/edward nashton x reader

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 || for the most part, you've managed to let go of the life you lived so long ago, fighting to survive in an orphanage with your best friend at your side; you thought it was the only way to cope with the trauma and move on so you could start living in better means. but the cost of selling out is higher than you thought, and lying to yourself is harder than lying to everyone else. good thing there's a new vigilante in town who really, really hates lies.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 || 15k (yeah.... strap in y'all)

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 || SMUT (penetrative sex, loss of virginity, emotional sex, slightly dom!edward), best friends to strangers to lovers, some reader x male oc stuff, explicit violence/murder, minor character death, mentions of previous childhood abuse, bullying, stalking (implied), voyeurism, ANGST!!, hurt/comfort, young reader and young edward doing kid stuff (and sometimes adult stuff but it's not explicit), somewhat non-linear timeline, possessiveness, overall just a lot of emotions

𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙛𝙞𝙘 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙨 𝙖𝙙𝙪𝙡𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩, 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙙𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩

Everything is so oppressively cold and damp; your fingers are pruned just from the moisture in the air, but your lips are somehow still chapped from dehydration.

You would think that stripping naked would go against all instinct in a cold like this, but the rags you call clothes don’t do anything for you anyways. They can’t keep in warmth you don’t have, all they do is shield you from the wintery draft blowing through the crack in the wall.

But something else can do that, and so you strip to nothing but your barest of undergarments, and join him under the blanket— it’s thin, but it’s wool, so it does the trick. There aren’t enough of them for everyone, and you try to forget what you did to get yours. You’re both so freezing that at first it doesn’t do much, but over the course of the hour your combined body heat is just enough to fight off the chill. He holds you tighter the first time you relax from the growing warmth; your teeth finally stop chattering.

It’s too cold to sleep, but neither of you are really awake, either— embracing each other and living in that in-between state where there are no dreams but real life isn’t too close, either. Tears run down the bridge of your nose, into the crook of his neck where you’ve buried your face, and it’s by far the warmest thing either of you have felt in days.

“Why are you crying?” he whispers. Even just his voice can soothe you.

“Don’t leave me, Eddie,” you whisper back. “Don’t ever leave me… we need to always be together. Promise me.”

“We will always be together,” he assures, hand tightening on your shoulder. “Always, always, always.”

You startled awake from the dream, already crying. Ironically, you were sweating— you threw off the blanket and felt the blast of air from the ceiling fan above on your sticky skin. It made you shiver.

You never thought you’d miss the cold.

The man beside you stirred awake with a groan. “Are you okay?” he asked groggily.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine, baby,” you assured, giving his arm a squeeze with your hand before you sat up on the edge of the bed, “I just need a shower. Go back to sleep.”

“I should go, actually,” he decided, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “Denise is probably wondering where I am.”

You looked back over your shoulder and noticed the way the ring on his finger catches the light, even when there’s so little in your bedroom at midnight.

The door shut across your apartment while you were in the shower; you just barely heard it past the sound of hot water streaming past your ears. You tried not to think about what you did to afford a living space so large; you tried not to think about why you were so desperate for a taste of luxury.

But some nights, you can’t keep the memories down. Some nights, it’s like he’s right around the corner of your mind— and you just want to reach around and touch his fingers with yours. Some nights, love is almost enough to make you wish for the past, because even though things got so, so, so much better and you’re never hungry or cold… they got so much harder, too.

Always always always.

Some nights, you let yourself wish he’d kept that promise.

~

You’d been sipping on your champagne pretty much non-stop all night, social lubricant to help you tolerate the bustle of cocktail party guests crowding your home, but you stopped as your loitering took you by the window and you caught a glimpse down into the street— children, playing in the snow. They reached right into it with their little hands wrapped in mittens, pressing it into globes in their palms and chucking them at each other, chasing and running around.

Chet’s hand on your lower back didn’t even get your attention, you were so used to it by now. “What’s got you thinking so hard, beautiful?” he wondered with a jovial, tilted smile.

“What are they doing?” you asked, looking at him quickly— his hair was getting longer, and grayer at his temples, but it looked good slicked back— before returning your gaze to the scene below.

“What, the kids?” he clarified as he followed your line of sight. “Sweetheart, they’re having a snowball fight.”

He laughed a little, softly, but he stopped and wrinkled his brows when he realized you weren’t joking.

“You’ve really never had a snowball fight before?” he tilted his head. You understood, then, that if you talked anymore about this that you’d make him confused and concerned and that wasn’t what you wanted to do. Over time, you gained a talent for sensing that you were about to make people uncomfortable with the reality of your childhood— Chet knew you were adopted out of the Wayne House for Orphaned Children, at least, but very few others did.

“I guess it’s just been too long,” you dismissed with a nervous laugh.

"Yeah, it's been a few years since it snowed," he recalled. "Do you remember that one winter, record lows in Gotham for the past hundred years or something? Oh, it must’ve been almost ten years back— I can’t remember what year it was exactly, but the whole city got a foot of snow, and almost half of downtown lost power.”

You threw back the rest of your champagne in one go, but it tasted more sour at the back of your throat than you remembered.

“Everybody was having fun the first day, my kids made a snowman,” he remembered with a laugh. I wasn’t having fun the first day, you wished you could snarl at him. “But then it got old fast, thankfully our side of the city never lost power— and we had a back-up generator, just in case.”

A friend of Chet’s appeared beside the two of you, the cigar in his hand emanating a noxious odor; you hated the smell of cigars because it reminded you of your “father” as he was legally considered— the man who took you out of the orphanage for his own twisted benefit. Turns out a rich man isn’t likely to adopt a sixteen-year-old girl with nowhere else to go out of the goodness of his heart.

“Surprised to see you standing by a window,” the man addressed Chet with a hearty laugh, “with that Riddler going after politicians— aren’t you afraid of getting sniped?”

“Don’t make me laugh, Hugh,” Chet replied. “I’d love to see him try— I’ve never had a good excuse to use that fingerprint-activated gun safe under my bed. I wish that punk would give me a chance.”

“You should be more worried about standing at an open window with me,” you joked, and both of them laughed.

“Aw, baby, you know I can’t help but show you off,” Chet cooed as he wrapped his heavy arm around your shoulders left bare by your dress. “Especially when you’re wearing what I bought you— doesn’t she look gorgeous?” he addressed Hugh. “Don’t I have great taste?”

“In dresses, or mistresses?” Hugh wondered. “Oh, doesn’t matter— the answer’s yes either way. It’s just a shame you don’t share.”

“That’s sweet of you to say, Mr. Haverford,” you returned bashfully, “but I don’t think the dress would fit you.”

Hugh and Chet laughed; you were good at this part, the ‘charming girlfriend of the respected senator’ thing. It was an open secret in this corner of society that Chet played the role of a family man for the cameras but kept you on the side as his plaything. Sometimes he said he loved you, but you figured he just loved how owning you made him feel about himself. And he wasn’t cruel, not sadistic or excessively controlling, and he gave you a great life in exchange for your companionship and silence. Your apartment, for example.

Well… it wasn’t really your apartment, it was his apartment, that you lived in. The apartment he bought specifically for you to wait for him in, specifically as a place where he could meet you in private and use your body and vent about the stress of his facade.

You didn’t know if Denise, his wife, knew. Chet seemed to imply that she didn’t since he always told you about coming up with ridiculous alibis for time he’d spent with you; but you wondered how she couldn’t have figured it out by now, when you’d met so many of his friends, so many of her friends…

If she really didn’t know, that was almost sadder than if she did and just pretended not to. But you tried not to think about her… and Chet certainly spent most of his time with you not thinking about her. I just need to get my mind off things, he’d tell you often, and that was his way of saying he wanted to lay back on the couch with his arms and legs spread wide while you got on your knees and sucked him off. That’s also what he meant when he said I’ve got a headache or is that new lipstick you’re wearing? or remember when I bought you that bracelet?

Now that you thought about it, about half of what Chet said to you really was just code for ‘I want a blowjob.’

“Maybe it’s about time to kick all these people out,” he mumbled to you, squeezing your waist for a moment, “end this re-election campaign afterparty a little early, hm?”

That was code for ‘I want to fuck you.’

~

Chet said goodnight to the last of the guests shuffling out the door as you finished rinsing out glasses in the sink. “Thanks for coming out,” he nodded at them, shutting the door behind them and letting out a long sigh when the apartment plunged to silence again.

You heard him coming up behind you, but pretended to be surprised when he started to rub your arms, kissing your neck playfully.

“You look so beautiful tonight, sweetheart,” he mumbled, starting to move one of the rhinestone-coated straps of your dress down your shoulder. “You always look nice in the things I pick out for you.”

“Mm, I do,” you hummed in agreement, drying the champagne flute and setting it aside so you could focus your attention on melting into his strong embrace.

“You need some diamond earrings,” he decided as he kissed the shell of your ear for emphasis. “These rubies are nice, but a girl like you needs diamonds all over.”

“Stoooop,” you whined playfully, purring as his hands moved to your hips, pulling you back into him.

“A girl like you needs a diamond on her finger,” he added, his voice even lower, squeezing your left hand. You gasped and turned around, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Chet, you’re not serious,” you assumed.

“Oh, I am,” he insisted. “I wish I could give it all to you now— but re-election is the worst time for things like this, even though all I really want is to be with you. Believe me, I’m gonna divorce her and I’m gonna marry you, after I win and after that moralist vigilante is thrown into Arkham.”

“Batman?” you furrowed your brows.

“No, that Riddler guy,” he corrected.

You rolled your eyes. “Are you really worried about him?”

“Obviously not,” he scoffed, “but still, a psycho who posts crazy videos online and doesn’t like politicians… I don’t know anything past what I read in the papers, but I bet he’s not a fan of guys like me getting girls like you— cause he could never get a girl like you.”

No, you figured someone hellbent on exposing corruption and manipulation was not likely to be sympathetic to a man nearing his sixties with a much-younger mistress running on the platform of family values. It was too bad the man who adopted you had died peacefully in his sleep three years ago, or maybe a man like the Riddler would’ve given him a little suffering for doing what he did to you— for making the money he made selling the pictures he took, for barely managing to wait until you were eighteen to essentially trade you to Chet in exchange for his support on a tax break bill.

You wondered if he would target someone like you, though, for being complicit in so much. You hid so much more than yourself in this apartment… you kept a lot more secrets than just an affair.

“Is that really why you think he does it?” you wondered aloud. “Jealousy?”

“Baby, let me tell you something,” he began, raising an eyebrow and wearing a somewhat condescending smirk. “Everything is about sex.”

You snorted out a nervous laugh.

“I’m serious,” he insisted, “everything men do— it always has something to do with women. And guys like that, who need to hide behind a mask… well, if they didn’t have to do it to get women, they wouldn’t do it, that simple.”

“You think Batman puts on a mask to get women?” you giggled.

“I think whoever he is, he must not have what it takes to attract attention with the mask off,” he asserted confidently. “He’s probably not ugly, but I bet he’s broke.”

“You think women can be bought?” you said, only letting an acceptable amount of your irritation seep into your tone— you were trying to be the amount of offended that a guy like Chet saw as a sexy challenge, rather than an actual threat.

“I think women like power,” he offered instead, pulling you closer. “Who doesn’t?”

You smiled, looking up into his eyes and then down at his lips. “I think I’d like you even if you weren’t such a big, important politician.”

He let out a proud little groan and kissed you; you were amazed that he fell for that. He was so logical, cynical even, and yet he believed any lie you told that was flattering.

He carefully pulled you along with him, both of you stumbling out of the kitchen and across the apartment— straight to the bedroom, of course. You were laughing together, somewhat mischievously, as you navigated by memory through the dark and toppled onto the mattress.

His weight on top of you would be crushing if you weren’t used to it; he wasn’t quite fat, per se, though he was medically at risk of being overweight. He was just sort of massive, towering and thick everywhere with a stubbiness to his form everywhere you looked… cock included, the one rubbing up against your inner thigh as he writhed on top of you.

Acting like you had sexual desire for him was one of the easiest parts of all of this, just because it was the most feignable emotion. What you couldn’t fake was physical desire— you had to close your eyes and retreat into your mind to find something stimulating enough to get your body prepared for this.

There wasn’t any one person or idea that you turned to in search of arousal, no handsome actor or erotica sampling or kinky pornography you’d committed to memory; it was more just… ideas.

Warm, safe. Loved. Whole.

You felt your panties sliding down your thighs, you heard a groan from above you. “You want me that bad, beautiful?” he purred. “You’re so wet…”

“Yeah, baby, all for you,” you cooed.

He pushed the skirt of your dress up higher and flopped back down on top of you; you winced when he slipped inside you, not reaching very deep but thick enough to give you a little sting when you weren’t expecting it.

Chubby fingers slid your loose strap down lower, exposing half of your chest, and he sighed as he groped your breast with a clammy palm.

“So fucking gorgeous,” he praised. You had trouble taking comments like that personally. Beauty felt so passive for you.

The room was dark, the only light coming in from the living room through the open bedroom door; it cast a big orange rectangle on the wall just past where you could see over Chet’s padded shoulder. You wrapped your arms around him and held onto his suit jacket as he grunted into your ear.

Your eyes fell shut, and the concepts in your mind started to narrow in and gain specificity, culminating towards something you couldn’t describe.

Shared secrets. Ink smudges on your fingers. Scraped knees wrapped in bandages, tears wiped away.

Clutching tighter at his clothes, you whimpered aloud— and he seemed fine believing it was because of how he was making you feel and not because of your runaway memories.

Soft hands gripping at your back, pulling you closer and holding you steady. A language only the two of you speak. The plastic rim of eyeglasses bumping into the side of your face. Always always always.

“Oh god,” you moaned aloud.

“Yeah, you like that?” Chet chuckled proudly.

You hadn’t been expecting to hear his voice, even though he was the only man you’d been with for years; the realization made you shoot your eyes open.

The shape on the wall was now a big orange rectangle… with the shadow of a man inside it.

You were so paralyzed you couldn’t even gasp, you couldn’t breathe at all. Chet’s head was in the way, you couldn’t look at the door and see who was standing there, watching you; for some reason, your instincts didn’t tell you to alert Chet to the ominous presence… you just laid there and let him keep going, because that was basically your whole fucking purpose.

“Kiss me,” you breathed, and Chet sat up slightly to hover above you with a self-congratulatory smile.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he pouted, mocking you, before he leaned down and gave you a hungry, sloppy kiss. When it ended naturally a few moments later, you guided his head to rest on the other side of yours— which gave you the freedom you needed to turn your head and look at the man standing at your door, while you felt Chet’s thrust gain speed and lose accuracy (not that they had a lot of that to begin with…).

You’d guessed it based on the jagged edges of his shadow, and at his presence in a time like this, but you were still shocked to see the Riddler standing there— cast in a golden glow from behind, his face impossible to make out while he was backlit like this. Obviously, his face wouldn’t do you much good when it was masked, but for some reason you wished you could see his eyes… you thought maybe it would make his visage less viscerally haunting, give him some humanity; right now, he looked preternatural, otherworldly, when all you could see of him was a vaguely human shape in tones of muddy brown and deep black. Two things stood out in his appearance when he was lit like this: one, the roll of silver duct tape in his hand, which reflected the light rather obviously; and two, the clear plastic frames around his unseeable eyes, which seemed to almost glow with the light shining behind them, though they too disappeared into blackness in the middle with everything else.

There were a few logical responses for you to choose from: scream for Chet to get his gun, scream at him to leave, scream with no particular goal besides expression of terror.

Instead the terror just stayed inside, and you couldn’t look away, and you felt it all building and swirling and making pins and needles wash over your body in waves. You choked on your breath; and the two of you just stared at each other. Shame hit you just as much as sick pleasure at the knowledge that this man was watching you be ravaged by someone else’s husband, by a father and elected official and the man who swore to crack down on prostitution and get ‘whores’ off the streets.

But he had one in his bed. A tear rolled down your temple; you hated yourself, then, as much as the Riddler must have hated you seeing the living hypocrisy you were. Seeing the way you’d debased yourself for a scrap of luxury. But if he knew— if he knew what you’d been through and where you came from and why you spread your legs just to stay off the streets— he’d understand.

Too bad the only person who could ever understand probably still hated you… if he was still alive.

The invisible, overwhelming stare of a terrorist— and the crushing self-awareness you spent most of your waking moments running from like a track star— was having an… unexpected effect on you.

“Oh, fuck, are you close, sweetheart?” Chet groaned loudly. “I can feel your little pussy squeezing me…”

Well, any chance you had of not giving away to this terrifying stranger that you were about to come from being watched by him was out the window.

“I’m close, too,” he continued, “I’m gonna come so deep inside you.”

Not that deep, but, sure. Live your dream, pal. “I— I want you to,” you gasped.

“I want you to come first,” he insisted. Wow, what a gentleman… it was almost like you didn’t fake your orgasms nearly every other time.

You honestly tried not to give in, you already felt horrifically vulnerable with this man watching you, and now he was about to watch you come. He was about to make you come, without even touching you. Or saying a word.

“Come on and come for me,” Chet encouraged— but as you and the man in the doorway contemplated each other, you were sure that he knew you were really coming for him. For some fucking reason.

Your moans got sharper, louder, needier; after being frozen for so long that you would’ve worried he were a statue if not for his heavy breathing, the Riddler stepped forward into the room. You heard every step of his boots as he circled the room and came to stand by the side of your bed, staring down at you much more closely, but Chet didn’t seem to notice… apparently he was distracted at the moment.

“Oh, fuck,” you whimpered, tears welling in your eyes as you looked up at the faceless man above you; he tilted his head and you felt your channel clench even tighter. “I—!”

You didn’t get a chance to finish your warning as the heat hit you like a paradoxically-pleasant suckerpunch right to the gut. You choked out a loud, pathetic whimper and went limp beneath Chet’s broad form.

His own grunts got louder and louder, erratic thrusts culminating in one rough slam of his hips against yours as he came inside you. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he sighed, sinking his weight down into you, “you’re amazing…”

The Riddler raised his arm and you realized he was brandishing a massive metal pipe in his hand, preparing to bring it down on the back of Chet’s head. You tried to reach up to stop him, but the man on top of you was too wide and heavy to give you that much mobility, and you winced as the weapon came down with a clang.

“Damn it,” you hissed, shoving on Chet’s shoulders, but the dead weight of an unconscious two-hundred-pound man was well past your strength ability. “Will you help get this guy off me?”

The intruder reached down and grabbed Chet by his jacket, both of you heaving to turn him over on the bed.

“He was about to fall asleep,” you explained with a groan as you rushed to cover yourself, pushing your dress back down over your legs and sitting up on the side of the bed. “You could’ve waited and saved yourself the trouble of knocking him out— you’re gonna have to wait a while for him to wake up if you want the combination to the safe, I don’t know it.”

You stood up and noticed his head was tilted down— the light finally gave you enough of a look at his eyes and they were pointed down at your chest. You glanced down with him and realized your dress was still pulled down.

“Shit,” you grumbled as you corrected your strap and covered yourself. “Thanks for letting me know my tits were out, Jesus,” you snapped sarcastically. “You already got a free show, get a grip.”

You brushed past him and he was still just standing there, so you turned around and crossed your arms.

“Well, aren’t you gonna use that tape for something?” you shrugged. “By the way— lead pipe, really? Is this fucking Clue? The Riddler in the bedroom with the lead pipe?”

“You’re in no place to question my methods,” he spoke, finally, and unrolled a long stretch of tape with a sticky, tearing noise.

~

You tapped the eraser end of your pencil rapidly on your open notebook, desperately hoping for the energy to focus on Mrs. Gilliam’s lecture on Wuthering Heights. You jumped slightly in your seat when you felt something brush against your back through your shirt— you waited until the teacher turned her back to write on the chalkboard to reach behind and grab the piece of paper.

When you unfolded it, the letters were randomized and made no sense… to anyone except you. You smiled as you turned your pencil around and began to work to solve the cipher. It only took you probably less than a minute, and you grinned when you read the decoded message:

IF I DIE OF BOREDOM IN FRESHMAN ENGLISH, BURY ME UNDER THE BLEACHERS

Just as you started to snort a laugh, you covered it with a cough and no one seemed to notice.

“Now, two of the most important themes of Wuthering Heights are childhood, and love,” the teacher continued. “You should all have a pretty good understanding of the first one, but, whether you believe it or not, you’re a little too young for the second.”

You flipped the page over and started working on your code for the other side; it came to you like second nature now, it was how you and Eddie kept your secrets in a place like the Wayne Orphanage where there was never really privacy.

I WANT TO FIND ONE OF THESE WUTHERING HEIGHTS AND JUMP OFF, your message offered in reply, if he could find the key— which he would, quickly, you imagined.

You folded the paper up and turned to pass it behind you, but you jumped in shock when Mrs. Gilliam was suddenly standing right in front of you, having appeared out of nowhere.

“O-oh, we were just—” you began to make up an excuse on the fly.

“Principal’s office, both of you,” she ordered with crossed arms.

“Wait, it was my fault,” Eddie insisted, “she didn’t do anything.”

“Except write a note to you? I have eyes, Mr. Nashton.” She rolled them for emphasis.

She snatched the paper from your hands and unfolded it; you instinctively reached to try to stop her, but sat back down when you realized it was useless.

“Wow, riveting stuff,” she spoke sarcastically as she displayed the paper for the class. “Random letters? No wonder you’re not interested in English class, you apparently can’t actually write in English.”

The classroom erupted into laughter, and you shot a sympathetic glance at Eddie who was looking down at his knees, cheeks starting to turn a little pink. Getting picked on by upperclassmen and even other freshmen wasn’t really new to either of you, being orphanage kids and all, but you wished the teachers wouldn’t do this kind of thing as well.

“I-it’s a cipher,” Eddie attempted to sheepishly explain.

“I don’t care,” she insisted, “you can explain it all to Mr. Waters and see if he cares enough to keep you out of detention for disrupting my class.”

“Actually,” you interrupted, “we were just passing notes. You were the one that disrupted the class.”

A few astonished laughs and ‘ooooh’s echoed around the room, and Mrs. Gilliam gave you a glare of pure fury. “Be sure to explain that attitude to the principal, too, missy,” she snapped.

And, to be fair, you tried… but it didn’t go over well. You cringed as Mr. Waters glared at you over the thick tortoise-shell rim of his glasses.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” he said, “especially for an issue in class. You’re such a good student.”

“I— well, I try to be,” you offered meekly. “I’m sort of distracted today. So is Eddie— we didn’t sleep much last night, there’s no power at the orphanage and it’s so cold—”

“While I’m sympathetic to your extenuating circumstances,” the principal offered, “I can’t allow you to disrespect teachers on account of a poor night’s sleep. Many of our students lost power in this winter storm—”

“Yes, but our walls aren’t insulated—”

“I wasn’t finished speaking,” he informed you sternly.

“Right, sorry,” you mumbled.

“My point is, there are always excuses,” he continued, “but they never mean much. You’re responsible for your behavior at school, and I would encourage you to consider the company you keep and how that affects your performance.”

You wrinkled your eyebrows together. “You don’t mean Eddie…” you hoped.

“Edward is a bright student,” Mr. Waters mitigated, “but his attitude is… concerning, at times. I think you might be better off with a wider social circle— maybe not latching on entirely to someone so isolated.”

“He’s not isolated,” you defended, “he has me.”

“Yes, well, clearly the two of you have a strong connection.”

“No, we— it’s so much more than that. We don’t just have a connection, we are connected,” you explained defensively. “That’s not a choice, that’s just… how it is. You just wouldn’t understand because you’ve never needed anybody the way we need each other.”

He laughed a little, looking down at where he rested his elbows on his desk, shaking his head. It was so fucking condescending you wanted to scream. “Listen,” he began, “it’s normal, at this age, to feel like you’re the first person to discover feelings this powerful. And it’s normal to think someone you have a crush on now will always be the most important thing—”

“Wait, wait,” you shook your head, leaning back as if you couldn’t physically process his words as fast as they were traveling through the air. “A crush?”

“I’m sorry— love,” he corrected, semi-sarcastically.

“It’s not— um, we aren’t—” you stammered, looking down and feeling your face get a little warm. “It’s not romantic, really. We’re more like siblings, I think.”

I think being the operative phrase there. Siblings sometimes still didn’t feel like enough to capture it, but more than that, things had happened last night that you weren’t sure how to explain. You knew enough to know that it wasn’t technically sex, but… it wasn’t something best friends normally do— definitely not siblings. Even though you’d been thinking about it every moment since, you still hadn’t figured out what it meant. Was it just respite from the cold, survival instinct? Was it a moment of weakness as the winter seemed to seep right into your mind and make you a little delirious?

Regardless, it was perfect. It was a moment of perfect in a life of so much suffering. Three days of blistering cold— the weekend, plus the Monday when the school called a snow day and other children must have celebrated while you cried for hours knowing you’d be separated from your chance at warmth and a decent lunch that much longer— and one night in each other’s arms feeling like you might just be okay.

“I’m sorry,” Mr. Waters coughed, “I didn’t mean to assume. But that is the prevailing assumption, when a boy and girl spend this much time together.”

“Well, the prevailing assumption is generally wrong,” you informed him, “because people are generally very stupid.”

He snorted. “I guess I can’t argue with that.”

“I’m sorry for being rude to Mrs. Gilliam by passing notes in her class,” you concluded. “I’ll write her an apology letter.”

“Considering the circumstances, it may be more fitting to apologize verbally,” Mr. Waters noticed.

“No,” you shook your head, “I’d like to prove to her that I do know how to write in English. Will I be receiving detention?”

“Yes, after school today, until 6,” he nodded, and you nodded back in acceptance. A few more hours in the heated building, with ample time to do homework without the distractions of screaming babies and kids getting into fistfights, was anything but a punishment in your mind. You stood up to leave, slinging your backpack over your shoulder. “Would you send in your, uh, brother on your way out?”

“Sure,” you agreed, and you slipped out of his office, past the receptionist— where you caught a glimpse through the glass wall of Eddie surrounded by four juniors shoving him around, forcibly roughing up his hair and laughing at him as he anxiously shoved his glasses up higher on the bridge of his nose. One was already midway into dumping the contents of his backpack onto the ground as Ed weakly begged them not to.

You glanced back at the receptionist behind you in exasperation, finding her caught up on a clearly-personal conversation on her phone instead of either noticing, or caring, that this was happening just a few feet away. Sighing, you stormed out of the waiting area and into the hall.

“Where do you get off?” you snapped at the leader: Darren Blanchard, you knew him much better than you wanted to.

“Hey,” he grinned at you— and though it did intimidate you to see him and his gang step closer to you, you were just relieved that it took their attention away from Eddie. “What’s a goody two-shoes like you doing in the principal’s office?”

“What’s an illiterate dumbass like you doing in a school?” you returned, and his buddies sarcastically laughed at your comment.

“You know, it’s a shame you waste all your time with your Loser of the Year over here,” Darren continued. “All us junior guys agreed you’re the hottest freshman girl. You could be popular if you let one of us take you out.”

“Oh, really, you all agreed?” you chirped. “Did you take a vote in between jerking each other off?”

“Listen, bitch,” one of the others— you thought maybe his name was Craig but you weren’t sure— snarled as he grabbed you by your shirt and shoved you back against the glass wall.

“Stop,” Eddie demanded, and they all turned to look at him.

“Ed, don’t,” you breathed.

“Don’t touch her,” he continued anyways, and you sighed in frustration.

“Or what?” another thug challenged. “What are you gonna do?”

“I— I don’t—”

“C’mon,” Darren grinned predatorily. “Tell me what you’re gonna do if I touch her.”

“I…” Edward began again. “I’ll kill you!”

They all laughed, and you hung your head in shame. “Oh my god,” Darren croaked out between cackles, “oh, that’s sad. That’s really sad.”

Probably-Craig grabbed your wrist and Edward made good on his promise— uh, sort of. He threw a punch and hit one of the other boys in the jaw, but it landed like a fly on a dinner plate; the punch he got back, meanwhile, knocked him straight to the ground.

You broke free from the grasp of the boy holding you and knocked him back long enough to get one kick between the legs in, and he crumpled to the ground— but Darren grabbed you and held you back as the other two still standing dragged Eddie up off the ground.

“Let me go!” you whimpered, struggling against Darren’s grasp but finding it totally useless.

“It’s cute when you put up a fight,” he grinned. “Get up, Craig— this little bitch needs to be taught a lesson.”

Obviously resisting the urge to hold his injured groin, Craig clamored up and walked up to where Darren was holding you back… and suckerpunched you right in the stomach, so hard you worried for a second you might wretch. “Stop!” Eddie shrieked, but his own cry was cut short as he got a similar treatment— except much more unrelenting.

You had to blink the tears out of your eyes to catch a glimpse of Eddie getting absolutely pummeled, and it only made you sob harder. A punch to his cheek knocked his glasses off onto the floor, where they were promptly stomped on. “Leave him alone,” you croaked out, “please—!”

Darren dropped you to go get in on the action, and you fell to your hands and knees atop the scattered contents of Eddie’s backpack all over the tile floor; you scrambled up and dashed to the receptionist’s desk, all but slapping the phone out of her hands.

“Look!” you demanded, pointing to the glass wall, and she frowned as she stood up.

“Hey!” she shouted at them, and they all stopped and turned to look at her. “Break it up!”

Principal Waters, apparently overhearing the commotion, stormed out into the waiting room and that definitely got their attention— the boys holding Edward dropped him to the floor unceremoniously and straightened themselves. “You four!” he bellowed. “In my office, now!”

They awkwardly shuffled past you. Darren shot you a glare and Craig waited until the receptionist returned to her phone call to whisper, “snitches get stitches.”

“Just worry about the stitches you’re gonna need,” you returned, glancing at his crotch— which yes, he was clutching still, though he was probably overexaggerating the injury for a sympathy appeal to Mr. Waters.

As the principal shut the door behind them, you ran back into the hall to find Eddie trying to lift himself up off the floor.

“Oh god, Ed, it’s all my fault,” you whimpered as you reached under his shoulders to help him up. “Your lip is bleeding,” you sighed as you reached up and dotted the blood away.

“I-I’m fine,” he assured, unconvincingly, as he blinked down at you.

“Your glasses,” you remembered. “I’ve got tape in my backpack, hold on.”

You picked up the two halves off the floor, and sat down on the bench in the hall (where he sat down next to you as well) to open your backpack and take out the roll of Scotch tape you kept at the bottom. With a decently-sized strip stuck to one of your fingers, you held the snapped bridge of his frames together and carefully wrapped the tape around.

“There,” you smiled as you turned to the side and gently slipped them onto his face. “It won’t fix the cracked lens, but, it’s a start.”

You noticed the way he was looking at you through the spider-web splinters in the glass, and it made you feel all warm inside. He looked away nervously. “I wish I could protect you,” he mumbled.

“You do, Ed,” you assured as you reached forward to squeeze his hand— but he pulled it away.

“No,” he denied, “you’d be better off without me. I’m the reason they treat you like that. If it weren’t for me you’d be the pretty popular girl.”

“That doesn’t matter,” you scoffed. “Popular is for normal people, and I hate normal people. Pretty is for shallow people— the only ones worse than normal people.”

“Well, you’re still pretty,” he explained, and damn it, there was that feeling again— you didn’t know what to say, but the subject changed itself when the tape on his glasses gave way and the two halves fell limply at the sides of his neck, still hooked onto his ears. You couldn’t help but laugh, covering your mouth with your hand instinctively.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you giggled, “I’m not laughing at you— it just looks funny.”

“No, it’s fine,” he promised, “it’s worth making you laugh.”

“I’m sorry my tape didn’t work…”

“Oh, that’s okay! I’ve got my own—” he looked at the assortment of his belongings all over the floor, pointing to the duct tape roll that had rolled its way across the hallway— “right there.”

He got up to get it and you sighed a little as you got down on your hands and knees to start gathering the papers and notebooks strewn about, while Eddie was busy using his teeth to snap off a small piece of tape and carefully repair his glasses.

“Can you see those well enough to fix them yourself?” you asked, still working on stacking things neatly enough to fit back into his backpack; you glanced up at him and saw him holding the glasses about an inch from his face as he repaired them, making you chuckle to yourself. You looked back down at the papers around you, mostly homework and notes with a few doodles here and there (Eddie liked to draw little things while teachers explained things he already knew everything about), and you tilted your head as you caught a glimpse of one page specifically. It was a cipher— a symbol cipher, not key, and most interestingly it was one you didn’t recognize. There was a legend on the side, and a message in the middle; you could see so much erased and scratched out, clearly he was still working on this specific code. Distracted, you sat back on your feet for a second to try to solve it. You glanced back and forth between the message and the key, decoding it one letter at a time.

I SHOULD HAVE KISSED YOU

You tilted your head when you realized what it said, and just then Eddie snatched the paper out of your hand. “D-don’t look at that,” he mumbled awkwardly, gathering more papers of his own and haphazardly shoving them into his backpack. Before you could ask more, Mr. Waters stepped into the hallway, and you and Edward stood up nervously to await your sentencing.

“Is it true, Mr. Nashton, that you punched Kyle Mitchell in the face?” he asked.

“I… I don’t know, sir,” he admitted, making the principal raise an incredulous brow. “I just swung— I wasn’t sure who I hit… I kinda can’t tell them apart.”

You tried not to laugh at that. “But you did hit someone,” Mr. Waters presumed.

“Yes, sir,” he sighed.

Mr. Waters’ attention turned to you next. “And you… did you kick Craig Johnson in the, uh…”

“Johnson?” you repeated.

“Watch your language,” he frowned.

“N-no, I really didn’t know his last name,” you insisted.

“Oh,” he cleared his throat, “well… you admit to kicking him, then?”

“Yes,” you agreed, “in self-defense—”

“Regardless,” Mr. Waters interrupted, “school policy dictates that any involvement in a physical altercation merits an out-of-school suspension of at least one day—”

“Out of school?” you repeated, choking up instantly. “Principal Waters, please—”

“It’s not up to me,” he assured.

“It’s so cold,” you whimpered, “there’s no food, please, you can’t keep us out of school!”

“I can, and I have to,” he repeated, firmer.

“Please, just an in-school suspension, detention for a month, anything!” you offered.

“Suspend me for the whole week,” Edward bargained, “and let her come back tomorrow. Please.”

“Eddie, no,” you whined, but Mr. Waters stopped you both.

“Student discipline is individual,” he explained, “and not something that can be traded or transferred to someone else. You’ll be sent home with a letter to the head of the House explaining your suspension, and you may return to campus on Thursday. I’m sorry.”

He turned and left, leaving you to fall into Eddie’s arms with shaky sobs. “It’s my fault,” you choked out, “it’s all my fault, if I just hadn’t kicked him—”

“Shh,” he soothed as he stroked your back. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay…”

“How?” you whined.

“When we get back from school,” he began, speaking quietly against your ear, “we’re not going to give them the letters. You know they aren’t going to notice anyways… and tomorrow, we’ll wait for the bus, but we’ll get off at the next stop— and we’re going to go spend some money.”

You leaned back to look up at him through your tears. “What are you talking about? What money?”

“Craig Johnson’s money,” he explained, holding up a wallet— which you quickly snatched out of his hand to hide in your backpack, glancing to make sure no one had seen. The receptionist certainly hadn’t, she was laughing hysterically at something said by whoever she was on the phone with.

“Where did you get that?!” you whispered.

“Off the floor— must’ve fallen out of his pocket after you kicked him,” Ed smirked proudly. “We can stop at a diner and get a hot breakfast first, then buy coats at the mall and snacks to hoard when we get back to the Home—”

“Oh my god,” you squealed excitedly as you hugged him tightly. “Eddie, we’re not gonna be hungry tomorrow, or cold—”

“No, we’re not,” he agreed, holding you even tighter in response. “We’re gonna be safe… and we’re gonna be together. Always.”

~

You sniffled and discreetly wiped a tear off your cheek, forcing yourself out of the memory and back into composure as you stood up straight in front of the bathroom mirror.

Stepping out into the living room, you found that the Riddler had arranged a little scene mid-progress; he sat your unconscious boyfriend up in a chair, walking around it to encircle him with the tape. He only had it wrapped around once when he stopped to stare at you.

"Am I next?" you asked. "Are you gonna tape me to another chair and… torture me, kill me?”

You considered saying the other thing he might be likely to do to you after restraining you, but you didn’t want to give him any ideas. Even though if that was what he wanted to do to you, he could’ve done it by now.

“I thought about it,” he admitted. “The thought upset me. So as long as you don’t interfere and let me carry on, I’ll leave you be.”

You let him go on for about a half second longer, before you had to interrupt him: “Wait,” you mumbled, and he sighed and set down the roll of tape, barely leaving Chet’s limp form stuck to the chair. "Don't kill him," you pleaded. "I know he's not perfect, but he doesn't deserve to die. Wouldn't it be better to keep him alive and use him— like a man on the inside?"

"I have no interest in the usefulness of a bribed senator," the Riddler insisted firmly, "or in the advice of his whore."

You scoffed at the term even though it wasn’t exactly wrong, and made your cheeks sting with heat. "Listen, you don't know me—"

"I know everything about you," he interrupted in a growl, stepping closer to you. "I like to do my research."

“If you know me, then you know why this is what I had to do,” you replied. “Did your ‘research’ show you how awful that orphanage was, that not a cent of Dr. Wayne’s grant ever made its way to us after he died? That we fucking starved? And just when I thought I was free, adopted by an important wealthy man and sent to the best private school in Gotham… well, you must have seen the pictures my dear old dad took of me—”

“You—” he choked, sighing and looking down. “You don’t have to worry about those anymore.”

You knitted your eyebrows together. “I— what?”

“There weren’t a lot of copies left,” he explained, “most of them were never digital but, either way, I destroyed them all.”

“Wh—” you choked, looking down at the ground because suddenly looking at his masked face was a little overwhelming. “Why would you do that for me?” you whispered.

“I… you were a kid,” he answered, apparently struggling with an explanation of why he would go out of his way to save your dignity. “I don’t like pictures of kids being out there, I don’t think that makes me particularly special.”

“Of course it does,” you breathed, holding your own arms tightly. “It makes you special to me…”

“Well—” he coughed, “I just wish I could kill everyone who ever bought them, or saw them. I wish I could kill everyone that exploited you— I’m about to kill that senator, because of what he did to you.”

You blinked up at him, thin tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. “Because of me?” you whispered. “What… what does this all have to do with me?”

“You’ll see,” he promised.

Just then, you only got a split-second warning as you heard Chet yell, and he dashed in out of nowhere to tackle the intruder to the ground. He landed with a powerful thud and you yelped in shock.

“Son of a bitch,” Chet sputtered as he wrapped his fat hands around the Riddler’s neck. Gloved hands reached up and tried to fight him off, but Chet was stronger— and most of all just heavier, leaning in with all his weight.

It’s impossible to describe what came over you then, an instinct so natural you didn’t even realize what you were doing, until you came to and that damned pipe was in your hand, and Chet was collapsed on the floor beside the masked man. The whore in the living room with the lead pipe… but you still needed one more clue to solve the mystery.

“Oh, oh god,” you sighed, falling to your knees; the Riddler was looking up at you, apparently surprised that you saved him— of course he would be, so were you after all. You caught his stare from behind his glasses, which had cracked when he hit the floor, and you leaned in a little closer. Reaching up, your fingers brushed over the leather covering his face, and your lip started to quiver— green eyes looked right through you from behind the shattered glass, and you pulled the frames away gently so you could lift the hood and see his face.

Well, it was a little distorted covered in plastic wrap, but it was still obviously him. He still looked so young and boyish, he looked just like he did in your memories, even though he must’ve aged just as much as you.

You smiled just in time for a tear to slip past your lip. The taste of tears brought back memories too. “Eddie?” you whispered.

“Hey,” he said, and his voice was muffled but familiar, casting a cloud of condensation around his mouth on the clear material. You laughed and started to pull at the plastic so you could hold his face unfettered but he reached up to hold your wrist and stop you. “I need to keep that on— so I don’t leave any hair behind…”

Before you could stop yourself, you leaned down and pressed a long kiss right on his lips: obviously there was plastic in the way, but you just needed to kiss him at that exact moment and a little Saran wasn’t gonna stop you.

You felt his gloved hands reach up and brush gently over your back, delicately pulling you closer, and you smiled. It had to end sometime, though, and the taste of whatever chemical gives this stuff its self-stickiness wasn’t entirely pleasant. You broke the kiss to laugh again, you couldn’t help it with the joy so pure running through your veins that it made you all shaky and tingly like you skipped lunch or something.

At the same time, you both said the same thing to each other: “I thought you forgot about me.”

“You thought I— what?” Edward responded to you. “I could never—”

“Of course I couldn’t forget you,” you breathed. “I know you didn’t want that man to adopt me— you were right, in the end, but I thought you wanted me to stay more than you wanted me to be happy… and you promised to write letters, and you didn’t— I thought you hated me for leaving you behind, but I wanted us to be adopted together, but he just wanted me—”

“Hey,” he interrupted your neurotic ramble with a hand on your shoulder, “I never hated you— I couldn’t hate you, I just knew you wouldn’t be safe with him. And I did send letters, every day. I thought you ignored them all— did you never get them?”

“No, he must’ve thrown them away,” you sighed, “of course he would.”

“I figured you just wanted to forget about everything from before…”

“I did— I tried to, after I moved in here, but I could never stop thinking about you for very long,” you admitted, looking away and feeling your cheeks warm. “What did you end up going into— like, what do you do now?”

“Uh, I do this,” he answered, motioning to his khaki-green get-up and the unconscious man beside him.

“I mean other than this,” you giggled, rolling your eyes.

“I’m a forensic accountant,” he explained, and you beamed.

“Oh, Ed— that makes so much sense for you!”

“Did you ever get a chance to be popular at the private high school?” he asked. “Since you didn’t have me dragging you down.”

“Well, not really,” you hummed, “he only sent me there because he was a big donor and he knew they’d ignore me when I tried to tell them what he was doing… the other kids weren’t as violent as they were at South Gotham High, but they didn’t like a charity case in class with them very much. I hope it wasn’t so bad for you after I transferred…”

“Uh, yeah, it was fine,” he muttered.

“Eddie, don’t lie to me,” you sighed.

“I-I got beat up, a lot,” he shrugged, “but it wasn’t that bad— I mean, I never had to go to the hospital or anything.”

You whimpered and wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your head on his chest as he sat up and held you tightly. “I didn’t even know if you survived that place… I’m just happy you’re alive.”

“I wasn’t really alive,” he whispered, “until just now, having you in my arms again.”

A groan made you both turn your heads to the side, finding Chet staring dazed at you both. His eyes trailed over his arms around you, your hands on his chest. “Wh…what?” he mumbled groggily.

Edward sighed and reached for the hood you’d left on the floor, tugging it on. “You’re a tough old bastard, huh?” he grumbled. It must’ve been the mask that changed his voice, he sounded pretty different with it on.

“N-no, please,” Chet began to sleepily beg for his life. Edward grabbed the pipe one more time (even though it had proven to be less of a permanent fix insofar), but turned to you before he did anything with it.

“I would, um, kinda prefer that you didn’t see this,” he told you nervously.

“Right— sure,” you agreed, standing up, even though he’d already seen plenty you would’ve rather him not see tonight. “I’m gonna take a bath, just… come get me when you’re done?”

“Okay,” he hummed happily, turning back to Chet who looked bewildered to say the least. “Where were we?”

You were walking to the bathroom to draw your bath, but you heard a bit more of their conversation on your way.

“What’s going on?” Chet asked, almost accusatory. As if his girlfriend having some bizarre connection with the serial killer in his apartment was more important to him than, you know, the serial killer in his apartment.

“You love her, don’t you?” Ed asked him, and apparently Chet must have nodded before he continued. “I can’t blame you. But I loved her first.”

You shut the bathroom door behind you, in time with the loud sound of the weapon coming down on Chet’s head; you winced, trying not to notice the icky, wet crunching sort of noise a lethal blow like that made.

Turning on the faucet— hot water first, then a bit of the cold side just to keep it from getting scalding— the loud rush of water mostly covered the sounds of Ed unrolling more tape, hopefully enough this time to keep Chet down for good (although you didn’t think he was coming back from that last hit, but you weren’t an expert on these things).

You stripped down out of your dress, letting it fall to the floor in a pile of black silk before you stepped into the rising water.

A sigh of relief fell from your lips as you relaxed into the warmth. Realizing you still had all your jewelry on, you slipped off the bracelets and rings, setting them on the edge of the porcelain tub; you took out your earrings and centered them inside the bracelets delicately.

On accident, you nearly fell asleep right there in the bath just because you were so… at peace. You never felt as safe as you did with Edward nearby, even if he had always seemed worried that he couldn’t protect you. Every good memory from the orphanage came rushing back, every moment of joy born from the suffering: sharing a warm bread roll, hiding under your bed and whispering to each other, carving your secret language with its scrawled shapes and symbols into the wall. On the day before your birthday one year, he’d taken a snack cake home from school and stayed up until midnight with you just to unwrap it and strike a match to stick in it, telling you to blow it out and make a wish. Chet had gotten you a three-tier custom red velvet cake last year, with sparklers and golden lettering sticking out of it, and thrown you a lavish party to serve it at… but when you closed your eyes and tasted the first bite on your fork, you found yourself longing for that empty room and pre-packaged plastic-wrapped cake with the artificial cream and the waxy legally-not-considered-chocolate coating with a wooden match in it. Really, of course, you were longing for him, for your soulmate, your best friend— your always.

As is to be expected with almost falling asleep, you didn’t realize how close you were to it until you were brought back to full consciousness by Eddie opening the door. You blinked your eyes open and smiled up at him, noticing the way his eyes trailed over your body left exposed by the clear, still water. “Hi,” you greeted.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked. “You might want to pack a bag… some stuff to bring to my apartment. Unless you wanna wear my clothes.”

He was obviously being sarcastic, but you were obviously tempted by the idea with the way you bit your lip and glanced away. “I’ll get a few things,” you decided. “I don’t know what kind of money you’re making doing accounting, but if I pawned some of my jewelry we could live large for a while.”

He knelt down, resting one of his elbows on his knee, and gently pulled off a glove. Reaching out with a bare hand, he brushed his fingers over your cheek, and you smiled and took a deep breath. You leaned into his palm and felt him cradle your jaw gently; “We shouldn’t waste any more time,” he breathed, “the police will be here in a few hours, when they see my video.”

“Are they going to be looking for me?” you asked.

“I warned them not to,” he sighed, “but they probably will. You’ll be safe with me, though… no one will ever find you.”

You smiled contentedly, reaching up out of the water to rest your hand on top of his where it held your face, before turning to give his palm a small kiss. “Let’s hope not. I want it to always just be us.”

~

You leaned down over the edge of the crib, smiling at the sweet, chubby face looking back up at you; she smiled when she saw you, and you reached down to let her grab onto your finger. “Hi!” you greeted excitedly, cooing at her as she kicked her feet up and wiggled around. “I wish I could come visit you every day, but I’m not gonna be able to from now on… you gotta stay tough, okay? My little trooper. You made it through that winter, you can make it through anything.”

He didn’t make a sound or move into your line of sight, and yet you somehow sensed Edward’s presence in the doorway; you turned your head up and back to look at him as he watched you. “What are you doing all the way in the nursery?” he asked.

“Saying goodbye to baby Hannah,” you explained, looking down at her again. “I’m gonna miss you, little dumpling!”

She giggled even though she obviously had no idea what you were saying, and you continued babbling at her meaninglessly. Eddie stepped up behind you, and you jumped straight up when you felt his hand on your back. “Stop hiding from me,” he demanded— not angry, not sad, just… flat.

“Eddie, I’m not—”

“And don’t lie, either,” he requested.

You sighed, pulling your hand out of Hannah’s crib and facing him properly.

“You’re leaving tomorrow, and you’re not coming back,” he reminded you.

“I said I would visit—!” you denied.

“You’re not coming back,” he insisted. “You shouldn’t. There’s no reason to be in this place a second longer than you need to. But you’ve been spending all week preparing to go without even saying goodbye to me.”

“Ed, I—” you began, starting to tear up already. “I don’t even know where to start… if I try to imagine not seeing you every day, not living with you and going to school with you, it just makes my brain go blank. I don’t know what life is without you.”

“Well, you’re gonna find out,” he smiled. “You’re gonna do what we always promised we would do… escape.”

You glanced away so he wouldn’t see how hard you were fighting not to cry, as if you could ever hide something like that from him. “But we were supposed to do that together,” you whimpered. “Eddie, I begged them to take you, too, but they said—”

“It doesn’t matter,” he assured, “I’m not going.”

“But you’ll write to me?” you interrogated. “You’ll visit me? Arkham College Prep is kind of a long bus ride, but I think my new parents are gonna give me an allowance so I can send you the fare—”

“Of course,” he interrupted. “We’re gonna see each other as much as we can, and in a few years we’ll be really free and…”

As he trailed off, you swallowed thickly. You’d spent years planning your lives as adults, but the older you got, the less fantastical your dreams became. You could still remember when he wanted to be an astronaut and you wanted to be a ballerina. Then it was secret agent and rockstar. Then it was engineer and teacher.

By now, it was just the hope that you’d make it that far. Even in a place like the Wayne House where life was near-constant torment, certain things were guaranteed. In adulthood, there’s no promise of shelter from the rain or one meal a day. Worst of all, there’s no one by your side through it all; you were both forced to wonder if it was ever feasible to dream that life wouldn’t keep you two apart one way or another.

You reached up and slipped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. He hugged you back, but it felt different— distant. It felt like he was trying to let you go already, and accept that you were leaving for another life without him; you hated that. You couldn’t let this be the end, and you couldn’t let him pretend this didn’t matter so it wouldn’t hurt as badly because it was killing you inside.

Just as you started to hold each other tighter, one of the adult staff happened to walk by the door. “Hey,” she snapped at you both, and you pulled away from each other. “Lights out in ten minutes. You shouldn’t even be in the nursery— go back to the adolescent wing, and stay on your side of the hall.”

Her last warning was especially aggressive as both of you had been disciplined excessively for being in the opposite-gender rooms after hours. It was never anything inappropriate— well, there was that one night that toed the line pretty hard, but the point is your intentions were never as nefarious as they assumed. Thankfully, you only got caught about one-third of the time.

“Yes, ma’am,” you and Eddie nodded at her simultaneously, and she continued walking along.

“After lights out,” you whispered to him, “wait a half hour and then meet me in the courtyard…”

You reached up to rest your hand on his chest and felt his heart racing; your was, too.

“And we’ll say goodbye,” you finished, “properly. The way we need to.”

The time you spent staring up at the ceiling that night, counting the ticks of the clock in the hall outside, was excruciating. Minutes had never been longer in the history of time, probably.

Honestly, you never had a chance at sleeping anyways: a few of the girls most jealous that you had been adopted and were leaving tomorrow had threatened to jump you as soon as you fell asleep. You knew one of them had already been caught with a shiv she made out of an old soda can… so, beyond just excitement to have your secret rendezvous with Ed, you were never exactly in a position to get any rest.

When the time came, you slipped out of bed as quietly as you could (which took an intimate knowledge of the creaky springs in your half-rotted mattress) and crossed the floor delicately (which took an intimate knowledge of the creaky floorboards in the half-rotted floor), dragging your blanket behind you.

Peeking out into the hall, you knew none of the adults would be back to check on anyone for a while… they were supposed to stay overnight to make sure no one got hurt, but even they couldn’t stomach sleeping in a place like this and had a tendency to go back to their homes and return in the morning as if the children wouldn’t notice. Still, you needed to be careful in case one or two stayed behind and would catch you and force you back to your room— or in case you woke up another ward, especially one of the more unsavory boys who might take advantage of finding you alone.

Blanket draped over your shoulders like a cape, you navigated the circuitous path around the House that would take you into the courtyard while passing the fewest dormitories— this place was a maze, but thankfully, you were good at solving puzzles.

When you emerged barefoot into the stone courtyard, shivering when the soles of your feet collided with gravelly rock and the grass that grew in the cracks between, you found Eddie already there, his own blanket under his back as he leaned against the big tree and looked up at the sky. You smiled just seeing him, and scampered over to shorten the time you had to spend away from him (and walking on the cold and mildly-damp ground, if you were being honest).

He looked at you when he heard you coming and smiled back, opening his arms for you to jump into. You draped your blanket over the both of you and nuzzled into his chest, looking up at the sky with him. “I hate that we can never see stars here,” he sighed. “It’s just fog and planes.”

“I think the fog is sort of beautiful,” you admitted, “in its own way.”

“Of course you do,” he laughed softly. “You see the beauty in everything.”

You turned your attention away from the sky and to his face above yours— he was still looking away, so you took a moment to appreciate the shape of his jaw and the way you could just see his eyelashes past his cheek. His glasses reflected the moonlight, so much so that when he looked down at you, you couldn’t see his eyes past the glare on the lenses.

But you still felt his stare, and it made you feel exposed in a way that was unexpectedly pleasant.

“I came up with a riddle,” he announced suddenly.

“Hit me,” you challenged.

“I’m blind, but with me, you see everything a bit more clearly,” he described. “What am I?”

You cycled through a few ideas in your mind, but cracked into a grin when you figured it out. “Love,” you answered.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “you got it…” He reached up and brushed his thumb over your cheek as he slipped his hand around the back of your neck— but then he just… didn’t do anything. He just looked at you and you looked up at him and waited but nothing happened.

“Why haven’t you kissed me yet?” you asked, whispering.

“I— I don’t know,” he whispered back, “I guess I’m just afraid.”

“Kiss me, Eddie… please,” you begged, and finally, he did.

It was everything you hoped it would be: sweet and soft and patient. He pulled you closer and, without breaking the kiss, you sat up a bit so you could climb into his lap and straddle him.

You gasped when he pulled you into him and kissed you harder, tasting your tongue with his own, even starting to let out the quietest moans against you. As you shifted in his lap, an instinctive motion to address the growing warmth in your core, you felt his erection and it made your head spin.

When you broke away, the two of you held your foreheads together and just caught your breath; you carded your fingertips through his hair while his hands held your back. “We never talked about that night, when it was so cold we didn’t know if we’d survive,” you panted.

“I didn’t know what to say,” he explained. “I didn’t know if it was just because of the cold…”

“It’s a beautiful night,” you breathed. “I’m not hungry or scared or lonely. I’m happy, Edward, because I’m with you— and I… I wanna feel you again…” you swallowed and barely managed to find the courage to finish your thought, though you still had to speak under your breath: “inside me.”

He just nodded and kissed you again, and you both rushed to get your bedclothes out of the way just as much as you needed to do this. A kiss on your lips helped keep you quiet when you whined at the initial sting of being penetrated; and more breathless kisses trailing down your neck and over your shoulder soothed you as he promised it wouldn’t hurt anymore— but you didn’t even care. You’d braved so much worse pain for him, and you never regretted a moment of it.

You breathed with each other and moved with each other and it was the most natural thing in the world. Everything good you’d ever had, you shared with him. And now you were sharing pleasure together and you couldn’t think of anything more perfect.

“Tell me we’ll always be together,” you pleaded one last time.

“Always,” he promised.

The physical element of it was over rather quickly, from an objective standpoint, when he needed you to stop so he wouldn’t risk getting you pregnant even more than he already was. But that finite moment felt like its own forever, and even though he apologized that he couldn’t hold out longer, you were anything but disappointed. The night itself was just beginning, and the two of you held each other and talked and kissed and dreamed until the sun started to rise and melt the fog away.

You needed to be back in your beds soon for the morning, but you stayed together until the absolute last second. You made promises— maybe he knew already how hard they would be to keep, but you believed them completely. And you never imagined how long it would take you to really make good on them.

~

You set your duffel bag down as he locked all seven deadbolts behind you. “Cute place,” you mumbled, looking around at the shabby— yet homey— interiors. It looked so much more comfortable than Chet’s apartment, which was populated with geometrical, sterile, white furniture. You saw polaroids he’d taken of himself, in and out of his Riddler garb, taped up to one of the cabinets atop the peeling paint; there were a few empty takeout cartons with chopsticks sticking out of them, which he dashed past you to awkwardly scoop up into his arms. He looked so adorably… puffy, in that massive bomber jacket, and you stifled a giggle.

“Uh, sorry— I would’ve cleaned up, if I knew you were coming back with me,” he defended as he dumped them in the trash. “Obviously.”

“It’s okay,” you grinned.

“Are you, uh, hungry?” he asked. “There’s probably something in the fridge I could make for you—”

“Ed, I was just at a campaign dinner a few hours ago,” you reminded him.

“Well, maybe you worked up an appetite,” he smirked nervously, “with everything that’s happened…”

“I just wanna get settled in,” you explained. “Is there somewhere I should put my stuff?”

“Anywhere,” he shrugged. “The bedroom’s this way, if you wanna hang your clothes up in the closet…”

As you followed him down the hall, you caught more glimpses of his work— contraptions he’d designed, schematics and puzzles and information on his targets. You saw a blurry picture of yourself under Chet’s arm, taken from across the street; a big red ‘X’ in marker covered your dearly-departed ex-boyfriend’s face, and you smiled to yourself.

“In here,” he pointed as he opened the door for you. The bedroom was… efficient. A double mattress on an old steel frame, and just enough room on each side to get around it. There were some books scattered around, cryptography books just as one would expect, and a lamp on a nondescript bedside table, but that was about it. "I need to hang up my jacket anyways…"

He slipped past you when you opened the closet door, stepping inside to unzip his jacket and drape it on a hanger. He was wearing just an undershirt beneath, and the short sleeves gave you a good look at his arms which were… much more toned than you remembered. He was still lean like he'd always been, but not as scrawny as his teenage self, like he'd really grown into his frame.

Apparently, he noticed you ogling him, because he cleared his throat and pushed up his glasses slightly on the bridge of his nose. "Is everything okay?" he asked.

"You look good, Ed," you answered with a smirk.

"Oh, thanks," he hummed. "You've always been beautiful…"

A little flustered, you looked down at the floor where you saw his boots take a step towards you.

"I… I still think about the night before you left," he admitted, "when we made love to each other."

Finding the strength to make eye contact again, you found the most beautiful storm brewing in his stare… behind those damn cracked glasses. "I do, too," you replied. "I thought about it a lot, actually— it was the only way I could get through, um… through nights with other people. I only ever wanted it to be you, Eddie—"

"Shh," he interrupted, soothing you with warm hands gripping your shoulders, "it's alright— that's over now. We're together and nothing else that happened in between matters anymore."

You sniffled and slipped your arms around his back to hug him tightly. "You don't hate me for what I did, right? And who I did it with?"

“I could never hate you,” he promised gently. “I… I hate that anybody else ever got to have you, though… that you belonged to someone like him.”

"I was always yours," you sighed, "all I've ever been is yours."

He grabbed your face and kissed you; you didn’t remember Eddie being this forward, but you couldn’t blame him for growing up— and you certainly weren’t complaining, in fact you were immediately melting into it and kissing him back and letting quiet moans slip out when you couldn’t help it. You yelped as he pushed you back onto the bed and climbed on top of you, but initial surprise melted into a needy, happy groan. "Mine," he growled as he started to roughly push your clothes out of the way. "Say it again."

"Yours! Fuck, Eddie, I'm yours— you know I am. Everything, all of me, I belong to you," you whimpered.

"My beautiful girl," he cooed proudly, "my angel. I was so lost without you… I'm yours, too, I need you so bad…"

"Take me," you offered. "Whatever you need, just take it. How long has it been since somebody made you feel good?"

"I… I can't even remember," he mumbled into your neck.

"Please, Eddie, I need to feel you inside me again," you begged, "I'm yours, I'm yours—!"

He groaned loudly and reached down to hastily open and push down his pants. He was already hard and he began to rock his hips so he could rub himself against you.

Shouldn't have been too much of a shock that all of him had grown since he was sixteen— and he wasn't lacking back then to start with. You felt a little intimidated, but even more excited. Grabbing him by the hair and pulling him into another kiss, you giggled when his glasses bumped against your face. You moaned and arched your back into his touch as his palms groped at your chest; you could feel his smug smirk against your lips growing as your legs instinctively spread wider.

His fingertips gently pinched your nipples and, lacking any desire to suppress your arousal— you had nothing to hide from him, anyway— you whimpered desperately and started begging. “P-please,” you choked, “don’t make me wait anymore… I’ve waited so long, I just need to feel you, please—”

“Shh,” he soothed softly, moving his hands down from your chest to the waistband of your sweatpants which he pulled down just a little too slowly; you mewled impatiently. “M’gonna give you everything, don’t worry…

You whined and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, hiding your face in his neck, but he didn’t tolerate that for long.

“No, baby, I wanna see you,” he explained as he sat up slightly and guided your head back to lay on the bed again. “That’s better… look up at me?”

You bit your lip and blinked away the tears suddenly gathering in your eyes; afraid he’d think you were strange for crying, you began to explain. “I-it’s just so much, Ed—”

“I know,” he cooed, “it’s a lot— it’s everything. It’s the only thing that matters.”

A little shaky gasp filled your lungs as you felt the head of his cock press up to your opening, and your insides clenched around nothing in anticipation.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he instructed quietly, staring down at you intensely; his green eyes were so dark when he hovered over you like this, the light on the ceiling above him making the edges of his light brown hair glow golden like a halo. You reached up and brushed your fingers over his cheek, then moved down to hold onto his shoulder. He thrust his hips forward somewhat abruptly and you cried, but worked very hard not to disobey him by closing your eyes or looking away. You hadn’t even realized he wasn’t all the way in yet until he gave you the second half, burying himself to the base of you, and you let out a high-pitched whine.

"Oh god," you hissed, "Eddie, you're so deep… fuck, I can feel you all the way up here…"

You guided his hand to your lower belly, pressing it down so he could feel, too, how well he was filling you. His expression changed as he felt it, and you caught the way his gaze emanated so much power as he started to move inside you and feel the way your stomach shifted under his hand.

You were completely at his mercy, and both of you were becoming addicted to it.

He took his hand off of your belly and lowered down to rest his elbows on either side of your face, hovering above you. Watching you closely, his eyes darted all over your face while he set an unhurried— though not specifically slow, either— pace with his hips.

Being watched by him was already having a similar effect on you now as it did earlier this evening, even when you didn’t know it was him: your walls were pulsing with need and you heard your moans getting so loud they started to echo around the small room.

The pleasure made you tilt your head back and shut your eyes, but he gently grabbed your chin and pulled your face back down. “I told you to keep looking at me,” he reminded you, just a bit more stern than you expected him to be. “I wanna see the look in your eyes when you come apart for me.”

You whimpered but nodded in agreement, a silent promise to follow his instructions and let him see every moment of your orgasm— which was building so much more quickly than it had any right to, making your walls pulse and your toes curl as your legs wrapped around his hips.

“We’re never gonna be apart ever again,” he promised quietly, his voice a little deeper and rougher as his breathing got heavier from the exertion.

“That’s all I ever wanted,” you breathed. An extra rough thrust slammed his head right into your spot and you yelped, feeling your channel bear down on his cock so forcefully it was almost painful— but in the most pleasurable way. “Fuck, E-Eddie, I love you, I love you…”

That phrase was rarely spoken between the two of you, it always seemed sort of obvious. But it felt good to just say it point-blank, and even though you figured he must’ve already known it, he smiled down at you proudly. “I know, baby,” he soothed, “I love you, too.”

“I-I’ve never loved anyone else,” you continued.

“I know,” he responded again.

“I— oh god, Ed, m’gonna come…”

“I know,” he replied finally, lowering his voice this time.

You did your best to focus your attention up at him as you held the back of his neck to keep yourself steady, but the energy coursing through your body seemed to make your vision go a little blurry. You longed to let your eyes fall shut and give in to the dark calling for you, but you needed to stay right here with Eddie— he was going to take you there if you just kept your promise not to look away. The last thing you wanted to do was forget who was making you feel this good, who you belonged to.

“You can let go, angel,” he encouraged you softly. “I’m right here, okay? Just do it, for me, come for me right now.”

You didn’t mind giving away that he had that control over you— he’d already proven it before, exhibiting the power he had over your body just from standing in a doorway. So, it was no wonder that when he was actually inside you, you would do whatever he asked. And he asked you to come, so you came; your eyes stayed open and trained on his, miraculously, as a heavy wave of ecstasy crashed down on you. Just past the deafening sound of your own moans you heard him pant and grunt a little.

“There you go, just like that,” he praised darkly, “such a good girl for me. I can feel you, coming on my cock.”

You could feel him throbbing inside you, too, and it was oddly soothing as you started to come down from your high; going limp beneath him made each thrust rock your body on the mattress, and he kept moving faster and faster.

“I can’t last much longer,” he admitted in a rough whisper. “You’re too perfect, it’s been too long without you—”

“I want you to come,” you assured, tangling your fingers into his hair and tugging slightly though you didn’t really mean to. “I want it so bad, I need you!”

"I'm not pulling out this time," he warned, fucking you so fast and hard now that you had no chance to recover— it felt like you were going to come forever. "I need to come inside you."

"Yes," you moaned, "oh fuck Eddie, please! Please please please…"

“Keep looking at me,” he ordered, even though your gaze hadn’t faltered since his last demand. “Look at me while I fill you up— fuck, I-I’m coming—”

His verbal warning was sort of moot considering you could feel it, every pump of his cock filling you deeper than you thought possible; he gasped and held your hips so he could slam all the way in, deep enough that your eyes would’ve rolled back if you weren’t so damn obedient.

Finally, the minutes-long eye contact was broken as he grabbed your face and kissed you hard, both of you shutting your eyes tightly and pulling each other into an embrace. He rolled you onto your side but stayed inside you, and even just that slight friction on your overstimulated walls made you shiver and whine. Thankfully, his hand stroking your back gently soothed you a bit in that regard.

Cuddling up in bed together, you were so relaxed that you didn’t really remember falling asleep— it was just that you woke up what must’ve been hours later, blinking your eyes open to find him contemplating a sudoku puzzle with a pencil in between his teeth. You smiled and started to shift around, but he quickly grabbed your hips to keep you still.

“N-no, baby, don’t move,” he cooed, “you’re keeping me warm while I work on this.”

Yes, he was still inside you; your body was so accustomed to him that you didn’t notice the stretch that much, except when you moved, and then there was a delicious sting that made chills run up your spine. You would’ve already been sore after he fucked you like that, but keeping him inside you for so long afterwards made you sure that soreness wouldn’t leave you for another week or so. Not that you wanted it to. “How much have you solved?” you asked sleepily.

“Most of it, but it’s a tricky one,” he explained. “Any ideas for me?”

He moved the booklet in front of your face and you blinked the blurriness out of your eyes to examine it. Of course, your attention wasn’t on the puzzle anymore when you noticed his little doodles around the free space on the page. Some of them had to do with trying to solve the square, but most were just miniature sketches— most notably: your face as you slept; a greeting card, like one you remembered seeing on the news addressed to ‘the Batman’; and a diamond ring.

“I’m glad you still draw,” you announced, reaching up to run a finger over the silvery etchings in the page. “You’ve gotten even better.”

“Oh, well, it comes with practice,” he dismissed. He turned the page around and looked at the puzzle again. “Would you wear a ring like this if I gave it to you?” he asked, pointing at the doodle with his eraser.

“I’d wear anything you gave me, Ed,” you informed him.

“I know it’s kind of silly for you to have a ring when you won’t be able to leave the apartment for a long time— but I wanna see it on your finger anyways,” he explained, smiling slightly. “I’d wear one, too. Even under my gloves when no one can see it. And that way just you and I know they’re always there.”

You smiled back at him, reaching up to gently touch his face; he hummed and set the puzzle book aside, closing his eyes as you pet his cheek. “You know we don’t need anything to show how we feel,” you reminded him. “It doesn’t make it more important or more real. We love each other more than most people who wear rings like that could even imagine.”

“Of course not,” he breathed, “but it might be nice, I think…”

“I think so too,” you agreed, nestling your face back into his chest and drifting into sleep again.

And so, even though it was a bit superfluous at this point, he got you both rings— and although they looked quite typical to someone passing by on the street, they were anything but usual. Edward carefully designed the mechanism that made them interlock; he described it as just another way that you ‘solve’ him. His ring had a sort of keyhole, little notches arranged in a circle that he kept turned inside his palm, and they fit perfectly with the setting of the stone on your ring. When you used yours to unlock his, a panel in the gold pulled out of the way and showed the engraved message inside, written in symbols only the two of you knew how to read: Always.

[tamayosclinic]

"Take my jacket haori, I don't want you catching a cold!” w my hot boi Kyojuro please! - 🦇

"Take my haori, I don't want you catching a cold!" | Kyojuro x GN!Reader

Warning(s): None

Author's Note(s): Good to see you requesting again, bat anon. Kyojuro is definitely the ultimate walking heater. Enjoy this fic.

Word Count: 428

100+ Followers Event [Closed]

“What the hell is this weather?” (Y/n) murmured. 

It was a clear mid-summer night, yet the temperature had dropped to where they puffed out a cloud each time they exhaled air. Cold gales swept through their clothes which were inadequate for the wintery temperature. A warm hand cups their chilling ones, and they instinctively lean into their boyfriend, Rengoku Kyojuro. His warmth embraces their entirety and doesn’t waver even as their surroundings seem to freeze with passing second. 

“How are you not cold, Kyo?” (Y/n) asked incredulously.

“My heart burns with an unwavering passion that a simple chill can’t blow out.” Kyojuro beamed, which seemed to turn up the warmth radiating off him. 

He looked so kissable right now. (Y/n) had half a mind to go in for a kiss, but something about the woods made the hair on the back of their neck stand. They didn’t miss the rushed pace Kyojuro set them on ever since the sudden temperature drop or the way his eyes darted this way and that in clear hyper-vigilance. The kiss could wait—right now, they knew they had to get home. 

Eventually, they cleared out of the woods into the neighborhood where (Y/n)’s home was. The cold winter-like weather remained but (Y/n) felt much safer compared to minutes prior. They hummed in confusion when Kyojuro’s hand parted from theirs. 

“You go the rest of the way. Do me a favor and light the wisteria incense I gave you when you get home.” Kyojuro continued beaming though there was an urgency to his tone. He draped his haori over (Y/n)’s shoulders, “Take my haori; I don’t want you catching a cold!” 

“You’re not coming?” 

“I’ll come to visit you tomorrow. Now go,” Kyojuro urged them forward. 

At this point in the relationship, (Y/n) knew not to question Kyojuro. Although he never confirmed it, the sheathed katana on his side confirmed their suspicion of what he does for a living. 

They peaked his cheek, “okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Kyojuro watched (Y/n) hurry the rest of the way home before dashing back into the woods for the demon he sensed earlier—likely the cause of the wintery weather. Even without his haori, the cold didn’t bother him one bit—not when he has someone he loves so passionately. 

Indeed, (Y/n) was someone he would protect with his life. That includes shielding them from the cruel reality of demons existing for as long as possible. If things go the way he wants, he will live to see the day demons excruciated and retire with (Y/n) at his side.