#I now live somewhere warmer but it snowed recently

[weirdstrangeandawful]

I'm from a relatively cold place and one time my friend and I were standing around at a bus stop on our way home from class just chatting. It was winter so it got dark out early but the warm street lights reflecting of the snow on the ground and blowing powder made it seem a lot brighter than it would otherwise have been. At some point my friend playfully flicked my nose and subsequently realised that it was cold (not surprisingly since the temperature was probably somewhere in the -30s centigrade) and immediately blurted out 'Oh my god your nose is cold! I need to warm it up' and proceeded to hold their hand over my nose with a smile.

This is the sort of simple love we need more of.

[ID: A light orange and light blue hand holding each other. The blue hand is patterned with various shades of blue feathers and the orange one with various shades of red and pink feathers. The background is a warm dark colour.]

#art #subtle whump #cold hands x warm hands #simple love #I now live somewhere warmer but it snowed recently #I am absolutely vibrating in excitement #even though everyone freaked out and the infrastructure could not handle it haha #reasons to visit my hometown: dog and snow

[wandasaura]

BURNING BRIGHTER THAN THE SUN

summary — the annual maximoff memorial day barbecue has finally come, but so has a softer side of your dominants

warning(s) — established relationship, married wandanat, mentions of dom/sub dynamics, this is 90% fluff, shower sex, quickie, fingering, oral, nipple stimulation, hickies, its relatively tame in comparison to what lives in this au, domestic fluff, mentions of pietro being dead as fuck, men/minors dni

authors note — remember when i said i was taking a little break? yeah i lied and im not sorry about it!

you are in love universe

♥️⊹ ˚ . 18+, men/minors dni ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰💌꒱ ♡ ･ mommy maximoff

The warmth and promise of sunshine had quickly taken hold of Westview, days of long darkness and snow storms came to be just a memory, thawed out by butterflies and the occasional white dove that pecked at the birdfeeder on the back porch of the Maximoff residence. You couldn’t understand how the sky was so much brighter in warmer weather, but as you sat beside Natasha on the cusp of solid Earth, you thought it looked bluer than usual. The crashing waves before you licked at your feet and dampened the shorts you wore when the tide dared to try and swallow you whole, but like changing seasons, it never stayed quick. 

Sunrise had barely hit its peak and already the traces of pink and orange were just another mental memory for the big scrapbook of moments you never wanted to forget. The sand was coarse beneath the fingers that hours earlier had been dug into soft blankets, but refreshing and welcomed despite how small granules crept beneath your nails when you picked it up the wrong way. Natasha hummed an old lullaby beneath her breath, eyes closed and face tilted toward the sun like a lonely flower that had managed to grow in an abandoned field. You knew much about the woman's past, but not enough to understand her connection to the star that brought you light each new day. Now wasn’t the time to ask, but you knew that eventually you’d come to know the reason for her methods of relief in hard times. 

The first weekend of break had come on quick, and the barbeque that Wanda and Natasha had frantically tried to tidy the house for before your attitude interrupted them was merely hours away. Despite the plans and the people coming over, time had been taken out of the day to devote just to you. In this moment, sitting on the edge of solid ground beneath rays of sun that attempted to burn you, you couldn’t even explain how truly loved you felt. 

The beach was empty, void of the presence of others and quiet for your enjoyment, save for the seagulls who squawked over scraps and the waves that crashed against man made piers and naturally jagged rocks. Your toes were coated in sand, your fingers in the same state, but you didn’t care to think about the messy things at that moment, you only wanted to focus on the good. The good was Natasha’s arm wrapped around your waist, keeping you close like a stray wave might succeed in carrying you out to sea. The good was Wanda’s perfume that lingered around the collar of your stolen shirt like the scent was woven into the cotton. The good was being here, being free and alive. The good was knowing Natasha. The good was having Wanda. The good was knowing love and having love.  

You laid your head down on the woman’s shoulder, noting how her hair seemed to glow beneath the sunlight. In this moment, it wasn’t auburn with scuffs of brown thrown in at the roots, it was orange like fire made by those long before lights and lanterns existed. She was ethereal, sat out beneath the early daylight, bearing her freckles for the sky to adore. You’d attempted to count them earlier, your gaze stuck on her naked face with blemishes and beauty marks sporadically thrown into the mix, but somewhere after thirty they all blended together and you settled for simply looking at them, admiring how you were somehow allowed to see them. 

You were happier in spring, happiest in summer, but recently, you have found those seasons in people. Wanda was like the early days of May, where weather was warm but also cold, and sunlight was soft but somehow harsh. Natasha was like summer, late July if you thought about a specific moment. Like the air she was sweet, but like the people she was calm, and like the night she was chaos wrapped up in laughter and loved company. They weren’t perfect, you would never call them such, but they were as close to it as people could get. 

A soft smile graced your features, and though you squinted to lessen the sting of sunlight, Natasha thought you looked stunning. When her eyes reopened and her head tilted downward to look at you, there was only affection smeared across her face. Her eyes that were so meticulously different shades of green had a spark within them that could only speak of the happiness she felt. How words had existed for so long and still there wasn’t one to describe the intense feelings that rushed through the both of you, you didn’t know, but you were content enough to rest against her with the knowledge that even if you couldn’t say it, you were both feeling it. 

“We’ve gotta head back soon.” Your beautiful moment was ripped into tiny pieces of paper that got caught in the breeze before they made it into the recycling can, and the smile that had turned your lips upward quickly worked in the opposite direction. You shook your head, digging your heels into the sand like the simple action might change her mind and make her forget about the barbeque that was starting at noon. “Not now. I need a couple more minutes of this.” 

You giggled softly when she nuzzled into your head, her wild curls tickling your nose because she hadn’t bothered to straighten them yesterday. You reached up, taking one of her curls between your fingers and pulling it taught, letting go to watch it bounce back into place and laid against her forehead with frizzy edges. You sighed in content, running your fingers through her wild hair that couldn’t be tamed in this state. “I like your natural hair.” 

Natasha crinkled her nose at your genuine admission. She puckered her lips and let them rest against your finger that was still in front of her face as you softly brushed strands of hair away from her eyes. “My natural hair is blonde.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” You rolled your eyes fondly, snuggling even further into her side despite how hot you felt beneath the sun. No matter the weather you wanted to be pressed up into her, and it was clear that she wanted the same, her arm around your waist squeezed you tight, almost daring you to try and pull away prematurely. “When you met Wanda did she have red hair?” 

“No, the red is pretty new. It was brown, a little bit longer than she keeps it now. She was really leaning into the whole emo phase. We could never go out together if she didn’t have red lipstick and eyeliner, she always said it completed her look.” Natasha smiled fondly at the memories that came to mind when she thought about the beginning stages of their relationship, and you felt your own heart warm in your chest as you thought about the young couple they had been. You wondered what kind of odds had been stacked against them, but you didn’t question it, happy to just live in this happy moment. 

You let your hand fall back into the sand, rubbing circles that slowly became hearts into the malleable surface. The beach would always be one of your favorite places, but sitting beside Natasha made it better, sweeter. “How long have you been together now?” 

“Fourteen years.” Natasha laughed, her own hand reaching out to collect handfuls of sand that she let run between her fingers until only a few granules were left in her palm, and then you watched her repeat the process over again. “Sometimes it feels like it was only a couple of weeks ago, and other times it feels like I’ve never lived without her.” 

“I never hated her.” You admitted, though you had the slightest inkling that Natasha already knew that. She just had a way of knowing things before you did. There was no possible way anyone could hate Wanda Maximoff, and if you somehow stumbled upon the only person in the world who did, you didn’t doubt they’d meet a quick and painful demise. 

“I know, moya kroshka.” Natasha laughs softly, so softly the sounds of the waves almost drown her out completely, but you still heard her. You’d always hear her. “It’s coming up on a full year since we started this whole thing, have any ideas about what you want to do?” 

You shrugged your shoulders, reaching for Natasha’s hand when she lost interest in the sand. She’d taken her rings off last night and with the early wake-up call hadn’t put them back on. The slightest tan kissed her features around where they usually sat, and gently you brushed the pads of your fingers against the pale skin. “I just want to spend it with you both.” 

“We can definitely make that happen.” Natasha hummed softly, laying a gentle kiss on the top of your head where sunlight had kissed your hair. Your roots were warm, hot against her lips, but Natasha didn’t flinch away. You knew this moment was coming to an end, but you could appreciate it for the few seconds longer that it lasted. “Wanda probably has breakfast ready, milaya. We’ve gotta start heading back now.” 

“Can we come back?” You questioned softly, not wanting to speak too loud as if it could ruin the quiet atmosphere around you. As you stood, dusting sand off the back of your legs, you winced at the ache in your back when you finally found your feet and steadied yourself on them. Natasha did the same, a quiet groan slipping past her lips when she reached down to collect your abandoned sets of flip flops. With one hand occupied, she reached the other out to you.  

“We’ll find a day.” She promised with a nod of affirmation. Your hand fits easily in the palm of hers, your fingers curl around her scarred knuckles while hers lay flat against your unbroken ones. Together you’re a perfect balance. Delicate definitely, but not entirely harmless. 

Westview sits on the edge of New Jersey, the air tinged with the permanent lingrance of salt and sand. The farther you walk, the less prominent it becomes, but if you know what you’re looking for, the scent of the shore still remains. Houses closest to the water are painted soft colors that linger in the summer sunrises, vacation homes that are only occupied for a handful of months throughout the year, but the deeper you walk the more mundane it becomes. The town is a muted palette of browns and beiges, fences of white and cars of greyscale. It’s perfectly coherent, acceptably mature, but the Maximoff residence remains the outlier. In the blandness of tans and creams, the two-story house is a soft green color with vibrant red shutters. The cars are normal, though elaborate. Unlike the Hondas and Toyotas that occupy driveways and road space, Natasha’s sleek Corvette Stingray sits beside Wanda’s Audi R8 in the driveway, the only flex of their wealth that’s apparent. You like it though, like how they’re so different from everyone else. 

You make sure to kick the sand still clinging to your heels off before you step into the house, and immediately you’re met with the aroma of sweet sugar and maple. Natasha hums at the change of scent, leaving behind the traces of salt that had tickled her nose the entire walk back to the house in favor of discovering what Wanda had prepared for breakfast. She drags her hand across your back as she passes you, seeking out the presence of her wife. 

You're slower to follow, taking your time to meticulously stack your flip flops with the rest of the shoes in the entryway. They don’t match the aesthetic of Valentino loafers and Prada heels, but you smile at the sight anyways. Your favorite pair of white converse sit beside the shoes Wanda wears into the office every work day, and your balled up pink socks are tucked into Natasha’s running shoes for some reason, but the little traces of your place here makes you feel at home. You’re not so different from the shore that lingers through Westview in the winter, but unlike the water that’s abandoned when snow falls, they’ll never forget about you when the seasons inevitably change. 

“Where did you leave the stray?” You just barely catch the end of whatever conversation has led to that question when you finally appear in the kitchen. The sunlight is golden now, no longer soft with pink and orange, but it falls over Wanda like the perfect blanket anyways. She’s wrapped up in Natasha’s arms, pinned to the stovetop where bacon rests in a hot pan. The only indication that this moment is less than perfect is the hot grease that pops and splatters every other second when Wanda neglects it for too long. 

“You know, you should really be nice to me before I start biting your ankles like a real stray.” You hum, your voice carrying through the kitchen like it’s always belonged there, though it’s not a response derived from annoyance like it would have been only weeks ago. Rather, your words are layered with fond exasperation that Wanda finds herself laughing at. 

Natasha kisses the lawyer's shoulder, squeezes her waist tightly, whispers something in Russian that’s not entirely audible from how far away you stand, before she pulls away entirely and walks toward the refrigerator. You pout when she pulls out the near empty pitcher of orange juice, setting it down on the island to be poured into glasses when breakfast is ready. It seems you could’ve spent a few more minutes beneath the sun, but you don’t complain. This is just as nice, just different. 

“That’s my job.” You sulk, letting your naked feet slap against the hardwood floors as you approach with sadness written across your expression. “Wanda, your wife took my job.” 

Natasha only narrows her eyes at you, the faintest ghost of a smile on her lips that she doesn’t even attempt to school. “It was my job first.” 

“Well it’s my job now!” You stuck your tongue out at her, sulking your way over to Wanda who lets you wrap your body around hers like a baby koala. With your front pressed up against hers, you have to crane your head backward to catch a glimpse of her face, but you're pleased to know she’s already looking down at you. You pout your lips up at her, grinning in victory when she kisses your frown away with a sigh of faux exasperation. “Can I have a new job?” 

Wanda laughs at your question, her fingers sliding beneath the waistband of your shorts to sit on the skin of your ass that’s still marked from days prior. You sighed in relief at the contact, leaning heavily into her chest when she rubs away the lingering ache that truthfully doesn’t bother you much anymore. It doesn’t last long, there’s still much to be done before noon rolls around, but you soak up every ounce of domesticity this morning has offered. “Sit on the counter and look pretty for me while I finish up with the bacon.” 

“Aye aye, Captain.” You giggle after saluting her, wiggling out of her arms and sliding your way up onto the countertop that’s practically become your designated spot since she stopped reprimanding you about sitting up here. Natasha crosses the little space between the edge of the island to where you’re perched watching Wanda cook, and you hum in pleasure when she leans forward to connect your lips. 

Your hands wrap around her shoulders and fingers tangle into the baby hairs at the nape of her neck. You smile into the kiss, beyond content with the little bubble that’s existed around you since being roused from sleep at five in the morning. A shriek of surprised laughter fills the kitchen when Natasha pulls away from your lips and buries her face in the crock of your neck, a raspberry tickling the sensitive skin as she blows against it. You squirm away from the sensation, but your arms still keep her locked in place. 

“Hi, Natty.” You giggle, tugging gently at the loose curls that your fingers are twisted between. She smiles at your happiness, pecking your lips a handful of times before she pulls away and whispers back the same greeting. “You smell like the beach.” You point out, giggling at Natasha’s extravagant eye roll. 

“You both smell like the beach and will be taking a shower after breakfast.” Wanda chimed into the conversation, tapping your thigh in warning as she opened the cabinet just beside your head. It had become routine at this point for her to simply work around you, so the clattering of plates beside your ear didn’t bother you much. 

When she turned around to grab the serving plate of belgian waffles on the island, your hand shot out to slap her ass, all thoughts of controlling your limbs forgotten. But really, who could blame you when she was wearing the shortest cotton shorts that had ever been sold in stores? Natasha had to bury her face in your neck to muffle her laughter, and you could feel her wide grin against your skin as you smirked innocently back at Wanda who set a firm glare in your direction. 

“Behave yourself.” She warned half-heartedly, absolutely no bite to her warning as you’d all just accepted the natural occurrence of the day, your roles as dominant and submissive forgotten about. You liked this exchange, not because you felt any less their equal when they bossed you around and set expectations upon your shoulders, but because it was the faintest glimpse at what life could be if they weren’t married and you were really their girlfriend. “Don’t even think about it, Natalia.” Wanda warned, already knowing Natasha was about to do the same thing you had been bold enough to accomplish. 

The redhead merely smirked and shrugged her shoulders, feigning innocence as she pulled away from your embrace and brought the drink glasses and pitcher into the dining room. You hopped off the counter the same as you always do, mimicking Natasha’s shrug when Wanda winced at the action. You grabbed the platter of bacon from her hands and followed after the lawyer who had already exited, eager to see where the day ended up, surrounded by the Maximoff’s closest friends and family members. 

-

The shower water was hot enough to create a thick fog on the glass doors and surrounding mirrors in the en-suite master bathroom, but still it felt cold as you joined Natasha beneath the heavy and unrelenting spray. You shivered despite the heat, reaching for the handle and turning it up even hotter, ignoring the Russian’s protests that her skin was actively melting off her bones. You liked hot showers, but you hated hot baths, and somehow you had yet to find a happy medium that worked for the both of you. Typically you’d compromise and switch off between who melted and who froze, and although it was admittedly your turn to freeze, today was not a day where you were willing to sacrifice feeling in your appendages.  

You silenced her whines with a desperate kiss, not even attempting to hide your need for her as you backed her up against the cold tile walls and pinned her hands to her sides. Your tongue was unrelenting as it licked and sucked at hers, tasting the minty toothpaste that she had rinsed from her mouth only minutes before you’d sought out her presence. When your teeth bit down on her tongue, just hard enough to send a shock of excitement down to her core, Natasha decided that being pliant in your hold wasn’t working for her. 

You shrieked in surprise when your position switched easily, the hands that had been firmly holding her wrists against the wall now pinned at your sides in the same way. You arched away from the cold tiles, effectively smashing your chests and eager nipples together as you attempted to run away from the cold wall.

“Fuck!” You shivered, your lips ghosting over hers. “You have a fucking Stingray and you still haven’t discovered heated walls?! What’s the point of having money if you don’t use it for good things!” Your words were quickly replaced by breathy moans as Natasha attached her mouth to your chest and greedily sucked a mark into your untouched skin; a mark that wouldn’t be easily hidden, especially not with the swimsuit you had been intending on wearing for the party. “Fuck, Nat–” You pushed her head away, hoping you’d acted quick enough for the damage to be only minimal. The smirk on her lips told you that you hadn’t succeeded, and you slapped at her shoulder in exasperation. “Your sister is literally going to be here in two hours, can you contain your vampire impulses until she leaves?!” 

“My sister has fucked her girlfriend in my guest bedroom. A hickey should be the least of her worries.” Natasha threw back at you, attacking her mouth to your nipple with purpose. You had ten minutes to sort yourselves out before Wanda came stomping up the stairs and pulling you out of the shower, orgasms or not. You did not want to spend the entire afternoon and evening hot and bothered because you got pussy blocked by a scary Sokovian. 

Natasha’s teeth pulled at your nipple, allowing the skin to sting for only a second before she soothed the pain with quick flicks of her tongue. Your other nipple was not privy to the same treatment, but her stumbling fingers attempted to make up for the neglect as she rolled and pinched at the pebbled bud. You shoved her head away from your chest, forcing her down onto her knees and in the direction of where you needed her most. It occurred to you briefly that you should wash her hair as she ate you out, kill two birds with one stone or whatever the saying was, but you quickly backtracked on that idea when her tongue sought out your clit with no lack of drive. Your knees wobbled, your breath got caught in your throat, and desperately your fingers tangled into her hair and pulled her closer. Your hips grinded against her face as she licked and sucked at your nerve with a passion, and you're certain that had the droplets of liquid fire not been falling over her face in a manner that was less than pretty, her chin would’ve glistened with your arousal. 

You arched into her touch as your orgasm approached, and Natasha had used the new position of your body as the perfect moment to bury two fingers knuckles deep in your cunt. You gasped in pleasure at the brief sting that came from her actions, crying out her name in pure bliss as she worked you over the edge so quickly you deserved an award for fastest achieved orgasm. 

She pulled away with dilated pupils, her own lust not forgotten about. You sank to your knees before her, pushing at her shoulders until she complied with your silent request and was laid out on the shower floor. Unlike you, she didn’t attempt to wiggle away from the flush of cold against her back, and unlike her, you didn’t waste time toying with her nipples. You dove straight into her cunt, lifting one of her legs until it was high enough to drop onto your shoulder. She tasted like she always did, but something about this situation made her more addictive. The spray of the water fell onto her belly, harsh droplets of water tinting the skin pink from not only the temperature but the pressure. One of these days, you’re going to get around to finding out the true pleasure of the detachable shower head, but today was not that day. You didn’t tease, much more intent at working her up and pushing her over before Wanda came to interrupt. Her clit throbbed beneath your tongue as you licked at her, and her walls clenched around your fingers as she pleaded for more. 

“Faster.” She moaned, her head thrown back against the white shower floors. The messy sprawl of her red hair was perfectly angelic, but you had no time to dwell on the sight of her as the minutes ticked down to none. Your fingers set into her at a punishing pace, curling into the sweet spot she loved so much until it was just a symphony of your name that rolled off her tongue in breathy whines and moans. You eased her off of the cliff with a practiced ease, giggling softly when she pushed your head away and subsequently caused water to spray in all directions as it bounced off her wrist. “N-Never letting you talk me into a shower quickie again. I think there’s an entire lake in my ears.” She panted, splaying a hand across her belly until she had managed to catch her breath. 

“I mean, technically I didn’t talk you into anything. I mouthed you into this.” You giggled, helping her stand and replacing your rough touch with something tender and sweet. You reached for Wanda’s shampoo, not caring that Natasha had her own right beside it. Wanda’s smelled sweeter, and if you were going to be the one to wash the woman’s hair, it would be you who picked the scene she bore for the rest of the day. 

You rubbed at her scalp, lathered until it bubbled, and eased your fingers through the knotted locks when it was time to wash it out. Wanda’s conditioner sat in her hair when the process was repeated on your head, and you sighed in relief when Natasha scratched her nails against the nape of your neck before trailing her hands down to your shoulders. Her thumbs worked on the soft muscles between your shoulder blades, and you melted into the firm attention. 

“How long can we stay in here before she breaks down the door?” You questioned, your eyes fluttering closed as you let yourself relax completely. Even if you hadn’t said it, you were beyond nervous to be meeting their family and friends. Some of the people attending their barbeque were big names in the security world, namely Kate Bishop, and you intended on making the best first impression if you were to ever have a career in the same field. 

“Three minutes.” Natasha chuckled gently, guiding you under the stream of water so she could rinse the soap from your hair. She conditioned you right after, twisting the strands of your hair between her fingers as she worked out the knots and kinks toward the ends. You rinsed her hair when she was done, dragged a loofa across her skin afterward, and then were rewarded with the same loving treatment. “There’s nothing to be nervous about. Everyone coming knows how much you mean to us. They’re all excited to meet you.” Natasha kissed your shoulder before she turned the water off and squeegeed the door clean of droplets and steam, stepping out into the cold first before she offered you a towel. 

“I know.” You sighed, drying your body as you tried to force your feelings into words. “I just want to make a good impression. These are your friends. It’s your sister. They matter to you and Wanda.” 

“And you matter to me and Wanda just as much. If you’re worried about Yelena, there’s no reason to be. She’s going to act like she hates you because she thinks it's her duty as my little sister to vet whoever I choose to spend my time with, but by the end of the night she’s going to have you trapped by the firepit showing you pictures of her dog. When she met Wanda for the first time, she insulted her in Russian because she thought she wouldn’t understand.” Natasha snorted at the memory, and you couldn’t help but grin bashfully at the admission. “You’re going to get along fine, and honestly that worries me. I can barely handle you by yourself.” 

“Hey!” You slapped at her side, but couldn’t help the wide smile that threatened to split your lips in half as you stared up at her. “I’ll be on my best behavior, promise.” 

“I don’t doubt that, утенок.” Natasha leaned forward to kiss your lips, and you returned the gesture though a crinkle of confusion settled across your brows. 

You asked once she pulled away, wrapping the towel tightly around your torso so that you could make a break for the guest bedroom where your outfit for the day remained. “What does that one mean?” 

“Duckling.” She laughed, and you groaned knowing that it was going to stick around, at least for a little while. You’d been quite privy to Wanda in recent days, call it making up for lost time if you really had to explain your reasonings, and both the Russian and Sokovian had chalked up your clinginess as acts of a duckling blindly following its mother. If Wanda was anywhere in the house, you were right behind her. Yesterday you had genuinely pouted at the bathroom door when she forbade you from coming in with her when she needed to pee, and unluckily enough for you, Natasha had come into the bedroom at just the right time to watch the scene unfold. “Go get dressed. Yelena said she’s arriving at twelve which really means she’ll be here in twenty minutes.”  

You nodded quickly, bolting out of the master bathroom and into your claimed bedroom without a moment of hesitance, not wanting Yelena to arrive before you were dressed. The door wasn’t even fully closed before you were dropping your towel and scrambling to find your bathing suit bottoms in the pile of messy clothes stacked on the dresser. 

-

Droplets of chlorinated water lingered on touches of skin that had yet to be dried by the slowly slipping Spring sun; still a ripple of motion in the pool that hadn’t yet gone completely still with the fresh absence of bodies in the water. The crack of wood submitting to controlled flames accompanied the music of laughter and conversation that happened around you. The evening was long ahead of you, eternal more hours of company promised, but you didn’t feel any obligation to join in on jokes and memories as you fell into Wanda’s lap and snuggled in close, seeking her warmth and comfort as a chill set overtop of you. You’d been drinking all afternoon, being handed hard seltzers and beers whenever anyone noticed your hands were empty. You’d finished a handful of Wanda and Natasha’s chosen drinks, taking it upon yourself to try at least one of every flavor they had laying around the backyard. The flush on your cheeks was near permanent at this point, and though the heat in your ears would be gone by morning and replaced with a headache only Advil and sleep could soothe, the kiss on your cheeks would last days before it settled into darkened skin. 

As promised, Yelena had kept you pinned to the edge of the pool when the sun was still at its highest peak in the sky, showing you pictures and videos of the two dogs she took great pride in caring for. Kate had watched for a while, draped across her girlfriend's shoulder as the three of you laughed at a particular video of Fanny and Lucky dressed up in bowties zooming around their daylight drenched kitchen, but she had excused herself to the bathroom before the end was in sight. Maria Hill had been your savior, though you were content with Yelena’s easy presence not to mind your trapped position much while it had lasted. The early hours of the afternoon had been filled with conversation and the act of acquainting, but the later hours had told a different story; a wild one. It was the story of how you had come to find this state of mind, far past the point of being tipsy and well on your way to true drunkness. 

You hummed when Wanda laid her palm flat over your belly, keeping you close and safe in her lap. The soft pad of her thumb tickled your belly button as she adjusted slowly, sinking further down into the lounge chair she sprawled across. The sloppy smile on your face was the truest indication of your contentment, and Wanda, though she wondered who had been the one to feed you so much alcohol without her realizing, returned the grin. 

Natasha and Yelena were noticeably missing from the circle, but the silhouettes of their wild hair and toned shoulders were figures or darkness in the kitchen that promised a quick return. Natasha, though only an inch or so taller than her sister, wore her curls in a messy bun that slipped lower and lower down her head as the hours carried on. She was easiest to spot from a distance, the shadow of her presence known perfectly to you. Wanda didn’t pay you much attention other than the firm hand on your belly, but you were content to just be with her as she laughed and caught up with the blonde woman sat beside her; Carol Danvers. 

“They put up a new plaque for Pietro today.” Carol laughed at the inkling of information she had forgotten to share earlier in the afternoon, and Wanda craned her head in hopeful willingness that Carol would share more. “He would’ve loved it. He’s the only bastard on the squad that was dumb enough to have a catch phrase.” 

As if that mentioned catch phrase had been sitting on the lips of every person gathered around the fire, it fell from soft tongues without a moment of hesitation. Messy, not at all in tune, but seemingly perfect to Wanda who smiled when horrible Sokovian accents caught up to her ears and the words her brother had made his slogan lived on when even he didn’t, “You didn’t see that coming.” 

Memorial day has never held much significance to you. It had been just another holiday that sat on the start of summer, sometimes warm enough for gatherings like these, and sometimes not. Until you realized that the American flag folded in militant perfection in the master bedroom was a symbol of remembrance, you hadn’t thought it held much significance to the CEO’s either. Even though you hadn’t known Pietro, his life ending years before your path had crossed with the Maximoff’s, you smiled. His name had lingered in conversations throughout the day, and you didn’t question how loved he still was after years of absence. 

Wanda’s lips were heavy on the crown of your head when she leaned down to kiss you. You leaned into the touch, your eyes fluttering closed for the briefest second before they opened and found Natasha admiring the sight of you. Two beers retrieved from the cooler near the pool sat in her hands, one cracked open and extended in your direction. 

“She doesn’t need anymore.” Wanda rolled her eyes, but didn’t stop you from grabbing the long necked bottle Natasha offered and adjusting yourself in her lap so that you could sip on it easily, having already spilled one drink down the front of you. With your back against her chest, and your legs situated between hers, you had to crane your neck to catch even the slightest glimpse of her face, but her arms around your torso were the physical assurance of her presence. She rubbed at the skin of your belly that had grown pink and warm beneath the sun, not yet tan, but it would come soon. The hickey on your chest had long since been forgotten, though Yelena had posed many questions of its origin before Kate slapped her shoulder and changed the topic. You’d been accepted without question, and you found that while some of their friends were painfully intimidating, Maria and Carol, they were truly sweethearts who had the same tendencies of protection as your dominants. 

When your beer had grown warm, and your cheeks had grown flusher, having been in no hurry to finish it off and replenish it like Yelena was doing, you passed the near empty bottle off to Natasha who had taken it not without an exasperated roll of her eyes and a mumbled sentence along the lines of being nothing but your servant. You had giggled, shrugged your shoulders, and curled further into Wanda who didn’t seem to even flinch at your elbow digging into her ribs. 

Despite your determination to remain awake, sleep won over you just as quickly as drunkenness had. Wanda merely rubbed your back in encouragement, being the single factor that had forced you into soft unconsciousness when conversations still buzzed around you. With your eyes closed and your breathing even, no chance of being woken even by the harshest storm, conversation had naturally flowed away from Pietro and onto you, but both Wanda and Natasha welcomed the new topic if it meant having the welcomed opportunity to boast about just how truly sweet you are. 

“I see you played the long game, Maximoff.” Maria winked at the Sokovian, her icy blue eyes admiring your innocent form as you attempted to wiggle closer to the auburn haired women who held you tightly. If you could find a way to burrow yourself beneath her skin, she knew that you would’ve done so already. 

“Patience rewards those who have it.” Wanda merely smirked in response, running her pruney fingers from hours of holding sweating cans and bottles through your chlorine stiff hair. “She just needed a little encouragement.” 

“She wasn’t the only one.” Natasha rolled her eyes, sipping slowly on her beer that despite the warmth, still brought a piece of home over her longing heart. Russians may drink vodka, but Melina Vostokoff had always preferred a beer. 

Wanda shrugged, knowing that despite her persistently cold demeanor, she had never truly doubted how her heart yearned for you. “It’s not my fault you brought home a brat.” 

“If I remember correctly, you said the same thing when you met Natasha.” Carol smirked over the lip of her can, her eyes burning holes into the side of Natasha’s face, though the Russian pointedly ignored her stare. 

“Watch it, Danvers.” She warned, but surrendered to the teasing she had missed in recent months. Life was busy, but they’d always find a reason to come back together.

#wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #dom!natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff fluff #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #dom!wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff fluff #wandanat #wandanat x reader #dom!wandanat x reader #wandanat smut #wandanat fluff #series: you are in love #minors dni ৎ୭

[nanalikessurveys]

When’s the last time you ate bread? 

I had a ham&cheese toast at a café this morning.

What’s the last movie you watched on your own? 

Lately I've been watching a lot of movies and the last one I saw was Society of the Snow. Totally recommend it, a horrific depiction of an awful tragedy, I teared up a bunch of times.

What about the last movie you watched with another person? 

Stormskärs Maja (or Myrskyluodon Maija in finnish). It's been a big hit here since it came out so I went and watched it with my mom at the theaters. I liked it a lot, it was really atmospheric.

How many coats do you own? 

I have two winter coats and few other coats for warmer weather.

What about shoes? 

One pair of winter boots, and then about 5 pairs of sneakers/tennis shoes. I also own two pairs of heels in case I need them for some party/whatever fancy situation.

One word to describe your most recent ex? 

Nice.

Where, in your current country, would you like to live, other than where you do now? 

Maybe in Turku, the city is really pretty with a lot of history and culture. Also, it's not a big city but not a small one either which is perfect.

Do you like snow? 

Yesss I love snow.

Do you like sheer clothing? 

I like when some clothes have some sheer parts in them, like on the sleeves or somewhere around the neckline but I wouldn't wear a fully or almost-fully sheer clothing.

Have you ever seen anyone famous in the street? 

Some local celebrities.

Are you hungry right now? 

I am.

Are you regularly tired? 

I'm not and I'm super happy about that. I mean I've never had major problems with being tired all the time but I've felt more tiredness in the past compared to now. This past year I've been paying more attention to my eating, that I eat regularly and eat balanced meals. I feel so much more energetic now and my skin and hair have never been in this kind of condition.

What was the last thing to upset you? 

Today I tried to book an airbnb for a little getaway trip I'm planning on having later this month but for some reason it didn't work out so I just gave up lol. I'm gonna try again some other day though.

How’s the weather been today? 

Around 0 degrees celcius with some snow and a lot of ice on the ground. It's been like that for a few weeks now.

What was the first tattoo you got or what would be the first tattoo you’ll get? 

I haven't given that much thought to it. I'm not totally against having a tattoo but as of now I don't have any plans of getting one.

What was the last store you went into and did you buy anything?

I went to a mall today to pick up new glasses for me. (I was so done only wearing contact lenses all the time so I had to get glasses) Anyway at the mall there was this boardgame store I've never seen there before so I went and took a look but I didn't buy anything.

Have you ever been late for school or work? 

At school if I was going to be late I just skipped the whole class. I didn't want to go to the classroom late, I was too shy for that lol.

Do you prefer to shower in the morning or at night? 

I like night showers more.

What is your favourite kind of fruit cobbler? 

I'm not sure what a cobbler is. If it's the same or similar as pie then I like berry pies, like blueberry or some mixed red berry pie.

Is there a basement in your house? If so, what is it used for? 

I live in an apartment building and there is a basement which has some storage space and also a laundry room. It also serves as a bomb shelter if we ever end up in that situation (obviously hopefully never).

Have you driven a car today? 

No, I don't even have a licence.

Do you have a small, medium or large bedroom?

It's pretty small but I mean my whole apartment is pretty small.

Have you eaten soup this week? 

No, I don't eat a lot of soup.

Are you a fan of The Office? 

I've never watched that.

When was the last time you started a new medication? 

A couple years ago but I'm already done with it. I only have one daily medication right now which I've been taking since 2017-ish.

What is your favourite type of nut? 

Cashew.

Do you know anyone who doesn’t have a middle name? 

My dad doesn't.

Have you put your phone on silent today? 

It's never on silent, it's on vibrate.

Can you name all 50 US state capital cities? 

I'm confident I know all of them because I used to be super into a lot of geography games online but if I had to list all of them now from just the top of my head I probably wouldn't even remember half of them.

Do you read John Green novels? 

I've only read one of his book, Paper Towns. It was good but I'm not super into fiction books, I'd rather watch a movie or read non-fiction.

Have you ever been to Universal Studios? 

No but it would be nice to go.

Can you tie balloons? 

Nope. Well, I've never tried but probably not.

When was the last time you were at a pet store? 

About a month ago to buy some cat food.

#survey #surveys

[storiesofsvu]

Snowfall

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: language

Quantico never got much snow, the air just got colder, chilling your bones and making you wish you could live somewhere warmer. But you knew how much Emily loved her job, and how much you both loved your lives here, so you weren’t about to try and uproot the two of you just for some sunny winters down south. Besides, the thing was, what you truly missed your winters in Chicago, the ones that may have been very cold, but were rewarded with mountains of gorgeous snow, kids and families out in the yards making snowmen, school yards having snow ball fights, making snow angels, making everything a true white Christmas.

While the Christmas holiday had come and gone, it was that weird week before New Year’s, where you and Emily were both able to actually have some time off and the time to spend it together. After a couple of exhausting days with family, you were finally free to relax, snuggling deep into each other’s arms on the couch while you laughed over your most recent t.v binge, picking at Christmas leftovers while you peppered each other with small kisses and giggles. You always adored your times like this with Emily, when you’d first gotten together you were surprised that she could be so soft, that she could get so gentle, that her more abrasive personality was more reserved for work. You had to admit, you did have a special spot for that side of her personality, but while you were nearly asleep on her shoulder you were thankful for the gentle arm wrapped around you, the hand trailing up and down your arm as she pressed a soft kiss to your head on December 27th.

“Feel like you’re ready for bed.” She murmured and you could nearly hear the smirk in her voice.

“One more episode?” You pleaded, turning your head up to face hers with a pout on your lips.

“No baby.” She chuckled, kissing you softly, “it’s late, we’ve got another week off to finish this.”

“You sure you won’t get called in?” She frowned as your face fell, “your go bag’s still at the door.”

“I wont.” She assured you with a tight squeeze, leaning down to kiss you once more, “from now until January, you are my only priority and concern, you understand that?”

“Yes M’am.” You smiled gleefully, pecking her quickly as you jumped from the couch, eager to get into the bedroom where you knew you’d be able to curl tightly into her arms into a very peaceful sleep.

*

Emily awoke at the howl of wind that shook the bedroom windows, letting out a groan as she rolled over. Her expectation was to pull you closer to her, nuzzling into your warmth and body, one of her softer moments when she absolutely adored cuddling you in the cold. Instead she was met with a cold bed, and she let out a huff of a sigh, rolling onto her back as she cracked open her eyes to check the time. It wasn’t often that either of you woke up in the middle of the night to a phone call, her due to the BAU, or you due to the hospital, it was one of the things that made your relationship work, the crazy hours. But she hadn’t expected you to dart off during the holidays since you’d been so adamant on her booking the days off to be able to spend together. She was about to roll back over to try and get back to sleep when her ears perked up.

There was music softly playing in another part of the apartment.

First her heart leapt in her chest as she suddenly sat up, clutching the blanket to her before her brow furrowed, it sounded like Christmas carols. She relaxed at it, grabbing a sweater to wrap around her as she rose from the bed, moving through the apartment.

Emily let out a content and soft sigh as she rounded into the kitchen, the sight of you perched on the counter in front of the window, a bright smile on your face as you watched out of it. She couldn’t help but let out a little laugh at the way you were curled up around yourself, your feet nearly in the kitchen sink, the noise gained your attention and you glanced over your shoulder.

“Oh shit, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You know how it is.” She shrugged, “terrible sleep schedule and all.”

“You should really start taking melatonin babe, at the very least.” You smiled, reaching your hand out for her as she moved through the room, accepting your hand wrapping hers around you, forcing her to snuggle into your back to follow your gaze out the window at the heavy fluffy snowflakes falling in the backyard.

“I’ll think about it.” She murmured, pressing a kiss into your neck. A moment of silence passed while you both stared out the window before she spoke again, poking at your skin, “babe, please tell me you didn’t wake up in the middle of the night just to watch it snow.”

You let out a small laugh, your head turning back to hers with a wild grin on your face, the sparkle in your eyes alighting hers.

“Why else would I be up?” You booped her nose, making her scoff and roll her eyes, “the snow is….nearly angelic…I mean look at it!” You gestured to the window, pulling Em tighter around you, “isn’t it dreamy? I mean, we don’t have to be out in it, but look at how soft it is…it’s fluffy, just the idea of a white Christmas? Of a family and kids being so excited in the morning to go play? Make forts and shit? It’s adorable and amazing.”

“Do…you want a family like that?” Emily asked, her voice nearly faltering and you twisted on the counter, a frown on your face as you took in her expression.

“I want you.” You assured, squeezing at her hands, “and you know that baby.” You leant in, kissing her softly, knowing that you’d been together long enough to have already discussed these kind of things, “I just love the snow.” You grinned, kissing her again.

“Well…” she smiled, her eyes gleaming and you knew she had some kind of plan, “why don’t you put on your coat and boots?”

“For?”

“We’ve got lights in the yard.” She laughed, “I think we deserve to make a couple snowman, maybe some snow angels?”

“Are you serious?” You yelped, jumping down from the counter.

“Of course babe.” Emily laughed, cupping your face as she kissed you again, “but I am gonna kick your ass.”

“Oh I doubt that Agent Prentiss!” You grinned, kissing her before racing off into the house to grab what you needed.

You met Emily back in the kitchen ready to dive into the snow filled backyard, excitement on both of your faces. Whether that excitement was your childhood joy, or Em simply adoring being able to make the love of her life happy, there was no doubting this was the ultimate way to spend the holidays, and you were both impeccably happy.

Loving Emily Prentiss was incredibly easy.

_______

@newyorker14 @wistfulfemme @natasha-danvers @imlike-so-gaydude @madamsnape921 @mysticfalls01 @cmmndrwidw !@bumblebear30 @enduringalexblake @ssaic-jareau @molllss @wosoimagines lilbit0123 @mmmmokdok @wandasbrat @multifandomlesbianic @alexusonfire @Season4scullyhair @Annieray2020 @dxtery @mmemalwa @poisonedcrowns

#Emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds #babyitscoldoutsideprompts #snowfall

[plaidbooks]

Protection

A/N: This is just a scene that I’ve been thinking about recently. It may or may not get a full fic around it, but I’m not sure yet. It’s Sonny Carisi x reader (or...it will be if I continue it) and covers the Bodyguard square in @adarafaelbarba  moodboard bingo!

Tags: explosions

Words: 1201

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart  @beccabarba  @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @permanentlydizzy @ben-c-group-therapy  @infiniteoddball @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @storiesofsvu@cycat4077 @alwaysachorusgirl  @glimmerglittergirl @joanofarkansass @redlipstickandblacktea  @caracalwithchips  @berniesilvas @reading--mermaid  @averyhotchner  @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles  @crowleysqueenofhell @dreamlover31​

You went up to Sonny’s apartment for your routine check on his place before you would retire to your car. The snow had melted from your shoulders and hair, and you wiped away a stray water droplet from your forehead as you knocked on his door. You heard Sonny on the other side of the door, knew he was looking through his peephole before you heard the lock unlatch, the door swinging open.

“I still don’t think this is necessary,” he grunted, letting you inside.

You tried not to roll your eyes. “I know it’s not ideal, but you need to just let me do my job, counselor.”

“I ain’t stoppin’ ya,” he replied, heading towards his kitchen. By the smells and sounds in his apartment, you figured he was just making dinner.

You stuck your tongue out at his retreating form before heading to the back of his place. Sure, the officer that was assigned to watch him throughout the day was supposed to clear the place when they dropped Sonny off after work, but you liked to be sure. If there was one thing you were, it was thorough.

You checked his room, the bathroom, the guest room, the little office space. You made sure windows were locked, beds were safe. Once you deemed it clear, you came back to the living room. Sonny was leaning against the doorjamb to the kitchen, arms crossed as he watched you.

“No bogeyman under my bed?” he asked in a mocking tone.

This time, you couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes, giving him an exasperated smile. “Nope, you’re safe in here. Have a goodnight; I’ll see you in the morning for another check.” You made your way to the front door, unlocking it, when Sonny stopped you.

“Wait…. Look, it’s freezing out there, and it’s only supposed to snow more. Why not stay here?”

You gave him a look of disbelief—you saw when his ears and neck turned pink, his eyes going to the ground in embarrassment. “I—I got a heater in my car, Mr. Carisi—”

“It’s warmer in here. Come on—you’re supposed to be protectin’ me, not freezin’ ta death in yer car,” he reasoned. “And I told ya ta call me Sonny; none of this ‘Mr. Carisi’ nonsense….”

You relocked his door, before putting your hands up in surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll stay in the guest bed, if that’s okay?”

“Of course,” he replied before heading back to the kitchen. “Dinner will be ready soon.”

You sighed, assuming that you couldn’t fight him on dinner, either. At least it smelt amazing. Shaking your head at his kindness—maybe more stubbornness—you headed to the window that looked down at the street. Taking your keys out, you wanted to make sure you locked your car, and you could see it from there.

You aimed the key fob, then hit the lock button. The silent night was broken as an earsplitting explosion engulfed your car. You dropped your keys in shock, ducking and backing away from the window. There was a ringing in your ears that slowly faded until you heard only car alarms down below on the street, your car a smoldering pile of twisted metal and fire, the surrounding snow melted.

“What the fuck?!” Sonny yelled from the kitchen, and you dumbly hurried to him. He was just coming out of the kitchen when you ran into him. You pushed him back into the kitchen, shoving him towards the table.

“Under the table, now!” you ordered, grabbing his shoulder and shoving him towards the ground. Once he crawled under the table, you ran through his apartment to the front door, checking the peephole, unholstering your gun as you went.

As you pulled your phone out from your pocket, the shaking started. It took you multiple times to unlock your phone, and even longer to hit Liv’s number. You kept an eye on the hallway as the phone rang and rang.

“Benson,” she answered.

“Liv, it’s me; someone bombed my car,” you said in a rush.

There was a beat, then, “what?!”

“I’m safe; Carisi is safe. I’ve barricaded us in his apartment, but they know where he lives. We need to relocate him,” you explained, leaving the still-locked door. You headed to the window, approaching from the side so that you could close the blinds without getting shot.

“I’ll send detectives over to give you cover,” she replied, thinking fast.

You nodded, though she couldn’t see you. “Make sure to send the same, standard, unmarked patrol cars, that way we won’t be followed.” If you and Sonny were in one of multiple, identical cars, you could weave throughout the city to keep him safe.

“Of course. I’ll text you when we’re there, and we’ll escort you both out.”

You said your thanks before hanging up, going back to the front door to watch the hallway. There was noise from the kitchen, and you got goosebumps, your heartrate tripling before you remembered Sonny was in there. You heard him turn off the stove before coming out to you.

“Relocate me? Don’t I get a say in this?” he asked, slightly annoyed.

You gave him a look. “Not after my car exploded, no. I was told to protect you, so I am protecting you,” you said, turning back to the peephole. “I suggest you pack some essentials; just stay away from windows.”

Sonny threw his arms up in the air before he went to his bedroom, muttering something about dinner being burnt underneath his breath. Now that the adrenaline was starting to fade, your hands really started shaking. If Sonny hadn’t invited you into his apartment for the night….

You shook yourself; you couldn’t think like that, not yet. Once you got Sonny somewhere safe, you could thank whatever was watching over you for keeping you from your car. But the fact that you had driven to his place, meaning the perp had to know 1) where Sonny lived—not that hard seeing as he was a public figure—and 2) which car was yours, made the hairs on your neck stand up. Ultimately, it meant that you had been followed, your identity exposed.

Sonny came back quick enough, duffle bag in his hand. He looked less annoyed now; he just looked tired. “Sorry…for being difficult. I know you’re just trying to protect me. Thank you,” he muttered, looking at the ground.

“And I know that you were a detective, that you don’t think you need the help. But thank you for letting me do my job,” you replied, giving him a soft smile.

He returned the smile, readjusting his grip on his bag. “I guess I could get used to having someone watching my back…. Especially since I don’t have my gun anymore...and since they’re exploding cars outside my apartment, now.”

You chuckled nervously, shaking your head before looking back out the peephole. Sonny sat in the armchair near you, and you both waited together in silence for backup to show. But rather than the silence being strained or awkward, it was comfortable for the first time since you took this job. If only you could get your heart to slow down.

#sonny carisi x reader #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #fanfic #my writing #adarafaelbarbasemptemberbingo

[clnriswood]

DRACO MALFOY X CEDRIC DIGGORY X READER

Something Different | Part One

premise: With Lord Voldemort’s recent rise to power, it’s no surprise that the usually lively aura of Hogwarts has had a signigicant damper placed upon it during the girl’s sixth year there. As she enters the new school year, now a prefect alongside her best friend Cedric Diggory, Y/N battles with uncovering the dark secrets that lie within the elusive Draco Malfoy. In doing so, she uncovers a greater darkness; the one within herself. As tensions rise amidst her pivotal sixth year, sorrow truths make themselves seen, and an unexpected love flourishes.

*In this timeline Cedric was born the same year as Harry, and therefore didn’t compete in the Triwizard Tournament. Instead, it was Angelina Johnson who suffered a horrible fate under Voldemort’s terror in Harry’s fourth year.

a/n: I haven’t been this excited to write in MONTHS. This is going to be a long and angsty journey and I couldn’t be more thrilled to write it. Please do give a like/rb if you enjoy it and be sure to ask if you’d like to be put on a tag list. 

X

Platform nine and three quarters was roaring with life. Footsteps fell heavy as children rushed to the glittering scarlet train, owls screeched amongst the commotion, and luggage scraped as it met the inside of the locomotive. Amongst the commotion, one girl in particular found herself being especially jostled around as she rushed full speed at the soon closing doors of the Hogwarts Express. Her hair was tied messily into a ponytail, strands of all sorts and sizes flying free and finding themselves tangled against her eyes and lips. Her breath came fast and heavy as she leapt onto the train and patted quickly at the glimmering sheen of sweat on her brow. The students around her were causing an unruly clamor, one she tried passively to slide her way through, her eyes wide as they searched high and low amongst the crowd for a familiar face. A rogue toad had children yelping and jumping from its way, the creature making a straight beeline towards the girl, who scoffed absentmindedly and scooped the creature up with an upward curve of her lips.

“Neville,” she laughed softly to herself.

The sound of the train roaring itself in preparation, a deafening whistle bellowing from its belly, sent the crowd dispersing. The girl flinched up in surprise, edging her shoulder past a fellow classmate, who turned sharply to face her. His jet black locks were messy as ever atop that glorious little lightning bolt on his head.

“Harry Potter,” her lips split, eyes twinkling with like.

“(Y/N),” he mirrored with a huge grin.

“Stop by my compartment later?” the girl asked hopefully.

“Uh-” Harry’s eyes narrowed as he gave a faint little shake of his head. “Maybe, yeah. I’ve just got to go about something first.”

She stared at The boy-who-lived with wide eyes, knowing full well the expression he wore was one of what could only be mischief. But, being six years in now, she knew better than to question whatever adventure the idiot was chasing.

“Alright,” she shrugged in defeat, extending her hands. “But do me a favour and return Trevor to Neville, will you? Before you go and do whatever stupid thing it is you’re planning?”

Harry nodded, “of course.”

His searing green gaze narrowed on someone, or something, rather, further along the way down the train. Whatever it was, though, was not hers to find out. The girl gave Harry’s arm a little squeeze as she made way down past the bustling compartments and towards one she knew would surely have a spot for her. By the time she’d reached the end of the slowly moving train the halls were cleared empty… or so she thought. For a figure, clad in dark fabric, found itself barrelling into her front, making the air shoot from her lips in surprise as she went stumbling back. He, being taller than her, towered over her front. From her vantage point, the girl saw only a crisp black tie and the steel cut jaw of a boy with snow white skin. The cologne on his front hit her nostrils hard, filling her lungs with a remarkably sharp minty fragrance. While that alone may not have been enough to tell her who the boy was, her eyes needn’t make it past the sneer he wore to tell her it was Draco Malfoy. Her eyes shot up to his elusive blue ones, unsurprised to see they were brimming with annoyance.

“(Y/N),” her name rolled off his tongue with distaste.

As long as she’d known the boy he’d said it that way. First when she was sorted into Hufflepuff and he’d jeered at her not sixty seconds after her departure from the Great Hall, and every year after that, when he got the chance. Likely, the only person he had more of a distaste for was Harry Potter himself.

“Draco,” she jeered back, her brows knitting with dislike.

He looked different from the last time she’d seen him, when he’d exposed her and every other member of the D.A. to that old hag Dolores Umbriddge. Gleaming from his chest, for the first time, was an emerald green prefect’s pin. But that was the least notable change about him. Far more noteworthy was how the boy looked a little leaner, a little paler, and a little more gaunt. His hair was cropped neatly and there was a sort of sallow sadness that sunk into his skin. Even his eyes lacked their usual annoying glimmer. The girl saw this all, and it made her searing gaze soften. If she didn’t know better, she might be worried for him.

Draco seemed to catch onto the unspoken words her face was telling, for his eyes flickered quickly away as he scoffed shortly and nudged her harshly aside with his shoulders, dismissing the girl with a final jeer.

“Oi, Malfoy,” a voice stopped him.

The boy turned, his eyes lifting to meet his speaker.

“That’s no way to treat a lady,” continued the amused voice of Cedric Diggory.

The girl turned, her face aching as she gave the boy the largest smile she could muster. Cedric Diggory was already in his robes, like her, but they were loose and messy, just like the golden brown mane that grew dangerously long atop his head. His yellow tie was undone around his neck, and featured well with the golden “prefect” stamped pin he wore. The summer sun had kissed his skin just a little warmer than usual, making his ocean blue stare more intense than ever. He gave her a wink with those stupid blue eyes and flashed his white teeth attractively at her before snapping his attention back to the Slytherin.

“Yeah, you’d know all about that, Hufflepuff,” Draco scowled in reply.

But even his scowl seemed off, like it was taking more out of the boy to be a nuisance than usual.

“Come up with something new!” Cedric encouraged with a wave as Malfoy slinked quietly away.

The girl couldn’t help but snort, dropping whatever little nerve Malfoy was striking to focus her attention back on her best friend.

“Ced,”  she pursed her lips hard as she fought back another grin.

“(Y/N),” he glowered, his skin flushing with warmth as he scooped her into a hug.

She threw her arms loosely around him, thrusting her weight off the balls of her feet so as to better reach him. The familiar scent of aftershave and parchment greeted her nostrils, and the back of his neck was cool where her hands rested. The girl prepared to shrug him off with her usual little friend-pat but grew concerned when she realized Cedric was hugging her just a little bit tighter and longer than he normally had done in the past.

The boy seemed to realize, as he pulled quickly away with a little grunt, “you smell like lavender.”

She chuckled and tilted her head in confusion, opening her mouth to reply but finding herself following Cedric quickly into their compartment before she could. The train was moving fast now as it departed from platform nine and three quarters. Two of her fellow housemates, Ernie Macmillan, and Julian Dolohov, awaited them. She noticed at once that Cho Chang was missing from the group, but Cedric looked unbothered. Her friends greeted her as she plopped down into the seat beside the chilly glass window, pressing her head to it as she sunk lazily back and made chatter of her summer. When it came her turn to talk, the girl shrugged modestly.

“Ced and I practiced loads of quidditch when I visited,” she said. “Otherwise I was with Hermione, first at her parent’s place and then cooped up at the Leaky Cauldron.”

Her thoughts grew a little distant as she reminisced on the now dark and un-lively cobblestone paths winding through Diagon Alley. Practically the only source of life left in the place, in fact, was the Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Having no family in her own picture, the girl had found herself frequenting the Granger’s, something she didn’t quite mind being that Hermione had been her closest companion for years now. With her mother being murdered at a young age, and her father vanishing alongside Lord Voldemort soon thereafter, Hermione was the closest thing she had to a family. Come to think of it, she must be going off somewhere with the other Prefects now, she thought.

“...for the quidditch team, right?” she heard Cedric finish, interrupting her thoughts.

The girl snapped back to reality, “sorry, erm, what?”

Cedric laughed, “I was just saying that you feel ready to try out for the team this year, right?”

The girl laughed an airy laugh, “uh, yeah.”

That was a lie. She felt nowhere near ready for that kind of anxiety inducing horror. But Cedric held strong in his belief that she was ready, and as captain of the team, she had to trust him just a little, right?

Julian grinned, “yeah well, Cedric could always lend you some extra time to practice one on one, now that he’s freed up.”

“Freed up?” the girl raised a brow.

Cedric clenched his teeth together in annoyance, giving his friend a shove to the ribs.

“Yeah, since him and Cho broke up,” Ernie continued obliviously.

The boy half yelled half grunted with frustration.

“You and Cho broke up?!” she gaped.

Cedric slumped his shoulders in defeat, his eyes growing particularly interested in a patch of ceiling as he nodded. His long fingers found themselves toying with the soft blue felt on his seat.

“Why?!” she said, her mouth still wide. “I mean, if you don’t mind my asking.”

He squinted with an aggravated little tilt of his head.

“Wanted different things I guess,” he mumbled, clearly uninterested in discussing the topic further.

“Alright,” she dropped it cooly, glancing quickly at the other boys, whose expressions told her they knew more than she did.

Cedric, still warm with pink, stood abruptly, “c’mon, (Y/N). We have duties to attend to.”

“Yes, right,” she cleared her throat, glad for a semi smooth change in topic, “we’d better be off.”

Their friends whooped and whistled at the two, feigning a swooning amazement at their prefect status.

“Shove it,” Cedric snorted, his nose wrinkling as he grew redder yet.

“Wait,” she stopped the boy, who was already halfway out the compartment.

He turned, face quizzical as her hand met the side of his arm. The girl turned him forward and reached into her chunky black boot, from which she procured her wand. She was silent as she flourished her wand, dragon heartstring and vine, and gave it a graceful swish. Cedric’s tie momentarily gained a life of its own as it curled up, around, and under, before resting neatly against his chest. He looked dashing as ever.

“Thanks,” he chuckled, his eyes glittering appreciatively.

The sky was growing dark with rain now, and it came pelting down hard against the windows, like fists on the glass. The two prefects began to make their way down the Hogwarts Express and to their obligatory Prefect meeting, but hadn’t gotten three steps down the corridor before a sudden BANG threw them off guard.

For an instant, it seemed that a sneaker, attached to an invisible body, flew past them. No sooner had the foot passed than an explosive cloud of black erupted around them, filling the air with a glittering black smoke. Her friends, from behind her, threw the doors of their compartment shut with a cough and wave about the air.

“What was that?” she spluttered.

“Probably just some first year messing about,” Cedric assured, unbothered as he fought his way through the sea of darkness.

The girl arched a brow as she waved a curl of the black mist from her face, “yeah, probably.”

She doubted that seriously.

. . .

The Great Hall was quieter that year. One might expect as much given that the incarnation of evil had been reborn. The hundreds of glittering waxy candles winked at students from above their heads, the bright house ties of the students flooded their respective tables, and the glass overhead made clear the inky scape of the night sky. Everything looked the same, but the feeling in the air was sticky and thick with buried worry. During the more somber house assignments, the girl found her mind drifting, stretching as high as the Hall’s ceilings. She couldn’t help but drift. Neither could many others, it seemed. The usual buzz of nerves and excitement was instead replaced by a deathly quiet. And so, as she sat, she scanned the many faces in the hall. First Cedric, whose eyes flickered instantaneously to hers, and who gave her a massive flash of his teeth, making her heart feel just a little lighter in her chest. And then she looked to Harry Potter, who had stumbled into the Hall late and now stared forward while a ridiculous glob of blood dripped from his nose and onto his lips. In questioning, her focus then shifted to Hermione, who’s weary brown eyes met her own before she indicated her head with a tilt across the hall, to Draco Malfoy. The girl’s eyes went there, next.

Draco was hardly attentive to the words the Sorting Hat spoke. Instead, he had his chin resting lightly upon his neatly folded hands, his eyes dark with some sort of silenced hurt as he stared holes through the oaky Slytherin table. While the feast then shortly commenced, the huge gleaming platter before him sat empty and lifeless, just itching to be filled like those of his friends around him. But they were all engrossed in their meals, and never once did the snow white boy show interest in eating, talking, or even moving. He played the part so well she almost considered if he’d simply frozen himself right there, his elbows iced into the hard surface beneath them. But a quick glance to his white knuckles, which were dripping in fine gold rings, told her she’d found the perpetrator for Harry’s broken nose. A thin line of blood trickled across his middle finger, and it was as scarlet as the ruby red blood dried to his arch enemy’s face. That made her grow hot with rage.

As she glanced back at the boy's empty plate, and then to her own, she found that she wasn’t particularly hungry either, but Cedric continued to sneak little pieces of pork and potatoes he’d cut for her onto her plate, insisting she eat. As she did so, her eyes absentmindedly met their final interest; Cho Chang. She was only one table away, but it was her stare that beckoned the girl’s own. Cho’s lips formed a tightly sealed line as her eyes went first to the girl, whose hair was unruly and sunshine yellow tie was crooked, and then to Cedric, who was somehow managing to make cutting vegetables look appealing. Those eyes looked glossier when they left than when they had first seen her, but Cho had turned away so fast that she couldn’t quite make out the tears forming in them. While a normal friend might’ve found it concerning, the truth was the two girls were never quite close. Cho hadn’t seemed keen on pursuing the girl’s efforts at kindling friendship, and she’d always either kept to Cedric or her own friends when they’d been dating. Now, it seemed clear enough that there was a world of resentment between the two. Or, maybe just on her side, it seemed. In reality, Cedric hadn’t even noticed his ex girlfriend’s gaze. No, he was too busy fighting off a housemate's hand and trying to procure the last chocolate covered strawberry for (Y/N) beside him, who sat festering in the millions of thoughts shooting through her brain like fireworks.

Her thoughts had been quelled only to a dull roar by the time Dumbledore gave his closing remarks to the students of Hogwarts. He stood before the Hall now, his voice soft and contemplative as his speech came to its end.

“Every day, every hour, this very minute, perhaps… dark forces attempt to penetrate this castle's walls. But in the end, that greatest weapon… is you. Just something to think about.”

His audience was silent in reply.

As he departed from the podium, the old wizard’s beard flew gracefully, robes billowing as he swept back to his seat with a push of his glasses up his crooked nose. The man sat thoughtfully, his all knowing blue eyes observing the students before him with a look that read strangely like it could be the last time he might do so. The hand he pressed to his lap was black, she realized, and charred with decay. But there was nothing to fear, surely. For he was the great Albus Dumbeldore, and he made Hogwarts the safest place she could possibly be. That’s what she had been thinking, when she noticed.

As the students around her had clamored loudly about, rising from their seats and speaking in a low chatter, she noticed one other person, still in his seat, staring at Dumbledore. But he didn’t stare in the way that she had, with concern, or with reassurance. No, Draco looked right at Albus Dumbledore, and the look he wore was one of fear. At least that’s what she’d gathered, in the short moment before his steely icy eyes came snapping her way and narrowing right in on her own curious ones. She waited for a scowl, a sneer, anything of the usual sort, but it didn’t come. His perfectly slender white fingers were light against his hollow cheeks, and his eyes moved quickly back and forth between the contemplative parting of the girl’s lips and the sharp arch of her brow. And so the girl looked at the boy, and, for what was perhaps the first time ever, the boy looked back.

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy fanfiction #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory fanfic #cedric diggory imagines #harry potter fic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x reader #imagines #draco x cedric #draco x cedric x reader #draco malfoy #cedric diggory #harry potter #fanfic #fanfiction #writing

[moonlit-flowerfield]

Cold Walls, Warm Heart

I actually like this fic, so... take it-

Fic overall Rating: Mature

Chapter Rating: Teen

Relationship: N/A

Characters: Patton, Janus, (mentions of) Logan and Virgil

Trigger Warnings: Speech about death, mentions of suicidal thoughts

Word Count: 2,000

Ao3 Link

Summary: Patton Hart isn't a "desirable" human. He seems to always be happy and never really does much but help others. And while, yes, that's good, a 100% altruistic person isn't wanted anywhere long. His longest residency somewhere was the recent town of Mayfield. He had even managed to make two friends there, a record-breaking two friends. But even that place started to feel like he wasn't welcome there. So, he told himself to go fix that. He went into the forest with practically nothing, just a small bag of food and a change of clothing for later. And he decided it was time to disappear.

Janus was a Naga who was tired of only having genuine interactions with anyone once a month. Maybe twice if his friend could sneak away. It was chaotic alone in his cave. And by chaotic, he meant very boring. So, when a human makes his way in during a winter storm, supposedly seeking shelter... Well, who was he to not take what he's given?

Cold. It was so bloody cold...

Patton really thought one of the wild forest creatures would have gotten to him by now. But he had wandered rather far by now... It was scary how quiet his trek had been, in all honesty. Logan and Virgil had made it seem like it would have been so much worse than it has. "I need to get somewhere warmer..." He noticed a cave not too far away and decided it was better than nothing. At least he'd be out of the snow...

He got into the cave and stared out at the forest, wondering if he'd make it through to the next town. If he did, would he end up deciding to stay there for a while? Start all over again? It wouldn't have been near even just the tenth time... What would that be... the 40th? A small sigh escaped the man's lips, a puff of the condensation filling the air. And then he saw one that he didn't create.

"What are you doing here, human?" The voice that spoke was calm but filled with emotions. But Patton couldn't place what emotions. Probably because he was terrified, but he also didn't exactly register that feeling quite yet.

"I-I was looking for shelter... I can't handle the cold for long..." He said. Not exactly a lie, at least on the surface. It was honestly very cold and he'd been out in it all day long. He wouldn't be surprised if he would pass out tonight and never wake up.

"And so you came to a cave? You must know what this forest houses, correct?" The voice seemed to hover right behind him, but Patton didn't dare look. If this creature was angry and made a move, he didn't want to see his possible demise coming. He was funny like that.

"I... kinda know... I didn't know some live in caves..." Again, not a complete lie. He knew there was a fae kingdom in this forest. But he also knew there were a few other creatures who were allies to the fae that lived in and around the cave systems in the forest. He assumed this voice was one. "Do you live in this cave?"

The voice went silent for a while like it was judging Patton's answers. "Lying becomes you not, little human." Paton's breath hitched because he didn't really notice he had been lying. His terror finally hit him and he panicked. "You crave something... Something you will not receive from any who live in the forest or cave networks." Wait, what?

"I don't understand what you mean..."

"You crave death. Oh, you may deny it, but the subconscious you wants it more than anything currently. You tell half-truths as if to try to convince yourself that you don't want to perish. But you wouldn't come into the forest in winter with little to stay warm if you had planned to return to your human village." The voice became more clear with its emotions. It was confused, interested and worried. "So why do you hope to disappear? Hm? You seem to be relatively smart... I cannot tell from behind, but you seem to be quite attractive... And your voice is nothing but melodious." Was... Is this creature interested in him? "You surely have people to return to who care for you. I am curious to know why one human such as you would wish to leave the world."

Patton tried to keep from turning around. He couldn't honestly believe what the creature had said about him. No human had called him attractive, said he had a nice voice or even called him anything close to smart. Sure, his acquaintances, Logan and Virgil, complimented him but they still never said anything like that. The closest they had said to any of those things was that Patton didn't hurt to look at, but he wasn't sure if they were trying to say if he looked better than most of the village people or if they were genuinely saying he was good looking. He realized that the voice had gone silent as if waiting on an actual answer. "...I... I'd rather not say..." He didn't feel like burdening a stranger with his issues. "It doesn't matter..."

The voice hummed a little, not in amusement but rather in frustration. "Fine then. Tell me your name, little human." Not a question, a demand.

"P-Patton... Hart..." He heard another hum, this one growing even closer. He could feel the creature place hands on his shoulders and a face pressed against his cheek. The "skin" was colder than he had expected and he was sure he felt scales on his skin rather than actual skin. "I-I can head out once I've warmed up... S-So I don't bother you..."

"No. I will not allow that." He noticed something was wrapping around his waist and became unable to stop his breathing from speeding up. "You are staying here. With me." Patton looked down, seeing a snake tail.

"Y-You're-" He couldn't bring the word out. The creature holding his waist moved its torso into his view. Before him was a Naga, with half his human body covered in scales and a tail that just went on into the darkness. Patton wasn't sure how to feel about the Naga before him holding him and not letting him leave.

"A Naga? Yes, I am." Patton noticed the tone of the Naga's voice was laced with something. Perhaps that's why he felt uneasy... "You need not fear me, however. I will not harm you," the Naga said. He noticed the tone of the Naga's voice changed, no longer feeling laced. "I just want genuine interactions."

"G-Genuine interactions? Y-You're t-technically kidnapping me!" Patton didn't mean to seem upset or even rude. This Naga was right about why he came into the forest and even though he didn't want to admit it, he was very cold and didn't want to die to the cruel winter. He'd rather it seem less like he was trying to relieve himself of living and more like an accident or murder. "Wh-What kind of 'genuine interaction' are you thinking you'll get?!"

The Naga hummed, this one actually being amused. He started to move them both deeper into the cave, just letting out a small chuckle before letting out an answer. "One that isn't caused by hypnosis or a royal duty. I don't get that often enough," he said. "I can't say I expect one of happiness, considering why you even ended up at my den and the fact that I won't let you go until I've deemed you safe enough to return to your village." The Naga ducked his head, then made sure Patton did the same, before sighing. "Perhaps one day, but I can concede that it will probably not be while you stay with me. Pardon the fact that the bedding is so horrid, I hadn't expected a human to stay here. I'll have my friend work on getting better ones for your stay." Patton noticed they had stopped moving, trying to make out what this part could be.  "Your... B-Bedroom?" A happy hiss-like sound emerged from the snake monster.

"Yessssss, I suppose that's what you humans call your living quarters. Though I am unsure if that is the proper wording, as I don't recall Remus saying human dwellings have kitchens across from where they sleep. This just happens to be the warmest part of the cave that didn't need runes and spells to enhance it to a ridiculous extent." The naga set Patton on the bedding, as he called it, so he could grab a few blankets. He turned to Patton once he had three in his arms before he draped them on and around Patton's shoulders. "That should warm you more. If it's still too cold, I'll futz with the runes for heat and add some more layers to the spells."

"Wh... O-Okay..." Patton curled into himself and the blankets, glad for the warmth but scared for many other things. "Um, M-Mister Naga-"

"Janus. My name is Janus."

"R-Right... Mister Janus," Patton paused a little to see if there would be any other adjustments to what he was supposed to call Janus, then continued when there were none. "Wh-Why do you care about me?"

Janus hummed once more, laying down on the bedding and coiling around Patton to get into a position where they were cuddling. "That is a curious thing, isn't it? Why would a monster such as myself care for a fragile human like you? It might seem odd to say, but because I'm selfish. I'm not keeping you until you are better for your sake. No, it is for my own. Until you are mentally safe enough to return to where you came from, I will have a companion. The healthier you are, the more of a threat to the Fae you become, however. And you trying to perish in their kingdom is just rude. So, I suspect that once Prince Roman and Prince Remus learn of you, they will either call for your enslavement or personally escort you to the edge of their land. Depending on how you are when they meet you will truly determine if they end up deciding your threat level." Janus let out a yawn, pulling Patton into a hug with his arms. "But, as long as you don't try to kill me, you will have me as someone to vouch for you. Now, little human, you require sleep to become physically better from the clear sickness that the winter air has given you and I was actually just getting ready to sleep when I sensed you. We both want to sleep," he said. Patton frowned, his glasses feeling uncomfortable on his face. Janus removed the glasses and set them on a rock that seemed to be the bedside table. When he spoke again, his voice almost lulled Patton to sleep alone. "Sleep, little human. We start trying to retrain your brain in the morn."

Patton tried to stay awake. He honestly fought for what felt like a long while against the need to close his eyes. Unfortunately, he lost the battle and curled into the Naga with a sigh before falling unconscious.

---

Janus watched the human fall asleep. He hadn't expected them to be able to combat the suggestion power he had laced his voice with for as long as they had, even though it wasn't very long. It had been, maybe, 3 minutes worth of fighting. Still, that was still rather impressive, especially considering the strength he had put into it. If his new companion had never been hypnotized before, he must have had really had some strong emotion guiding his actions. Then again, Janus never really did the full-on hypnosis. He didn't like that feeling of pure control, and he tended to save it for the ones who tried attacking the forest or specifically him. After all, when your brain goes into a blank state, you tend to not be violent.

However, his own mind could have used the suggestion as well. All he had said about the human was true. They seemed at the very least somewhat intelligent, had a voice he could compare to a siren's song, and was physically attractive to the eye. Janus couldn't say much for the human's personality, but from what he had seen, that also wasn't a bad quality. So why? Why did this human risk their life on purpose? What drew them to try and perish at the hand of a guardian of the forest or a Fae royal guard? Surely they had family who cared, if not friends who wished them well? These thoughts filled his mind and, eventually, he just sighed. Thinking about it wasn't going to get him anywhere, at least not right now. He needed to sleep, wake up early and then start figuring out how to help while knowing nothing. So that's what he did.

#sanders sides writing #sanders sides #patton sanders #janus sanders #naga au #/human au #kinda sad #kinda angst #fanfic #updated spelling and grammar

[rw47vr-key]

Not so interesting facts about me :D

Tag game:

THANK YOU SO SO MUCH DEARS!!!🤧❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ @mind-iss-a-prison @noface8834 @nym0sgirl @jakelogic @athelonewolfuniverse @duskwoodfanfic @jakey-girl01040 @archangel-of-the-abyss

Let's get in.... I didn't how to do this at first

~ appearance:

I am 5"7 or taller,(Lmaoo I am 5"2...💀💀 , )

I wear glasses

I have at least one tattoo

I have at least one piercing

I have blonde hair

I have brown eyes

I have short hair

My ABS are at least somehow defined

I have or have had braces

~ personality

I love meeting new people

People tell me that I'm funny

Helping others with their problems is a big priority for me

I enjoy physical challenges

I enjoy mental challenges

I'm playfully rude with people I know well,not sure👀

I started saying something ironically and now I can't stop saying it

There is something I would change about my personality

~ability

I can sing well

I have learned a new song in the past week

I have a good memory but if my head gets preoccupied I totally forget the most trivial one, right in front of me,I hope it makes sense....

I can play an instrument

I’m a fast runner

I can hold my breath underwater for over a minute

I’m good at doing math in my head,might be🤔

I have beaten at least 2 people in arm wrestling

I know how to cook at least 3 meals from a scratch

I know how to throw a proper punch

~hobbies

I enjoy playing sports

I’m on a sports team at my school or somewhere else

I’m in an orchestra or choir at my school or somewhere else

I have learned a new song in the past week

I’ve gone for runs at least once a week in the warmer months

I have drawn something in the past month

I enjoy writing

I do or have done martial arts

~ experiences:

I have had my first kiss

I have had alcohol

I have scored the winning goal in a sport game

I have watched an entire season of a tv show in one sitting

I have been at an overnight event

I have been in a taxi

I have been in the hospital in the past year

I have beaten a video game in one day

I have visited another country

I have been to one of my favorite bands concerts

~ relationships:

I have a crush on a celebrity

I have a crush on someone I know

I have been in at least 3 relationships

I have never been in a relationship

I have asked someone out or admitted my feelings to them

I get crushes easily (Ahem...fictional😌)

I have had a crush on someone for over a year

I have been in a relationship for at least a year

I have had feelings for a friend.

~ my life:

I have at least one person I consider a best friend

My parents are still together

I have at least one sibling

I live in the United States

There is snow right now where I live

I have hung out with a friend in the past month

I have a smartphone

I have at least 15 CDs

I share my room with someone

~ random shit:

I have breakdanced

I know a person named Jamie

I speak at least 2 languages

I have had a teacher with a last name that's hard to pronounce

I'm listening to one song on repeat right now

I have punched someone in the past week

I know someone who has gone to jail

I have broken a bone

I have eaten a waffle

I know what I want to do with my life

I have made a friend in the past year

Tag 9 people stuff!

Thank you so much@booklover-01040 @jakey-girl01040 @aesthetics-crow !❤️ And @captainwanderlust78 !💙 (I'm sorry I'm lazy to redo it 😅😆)

Favourite colour: Blue,purple, etc my brain's not working rn to remember👀

Currently reading: the sleeping exam books in front of me? 🤧

Last song: Dancing in my sleep by Torine Edit: Match in the Rain by Alec Benjamin

Last series: it was "Loki" ,but that was last year 👀😂 (nope haven't seen anything recently,also if you've know me/seen my post,even the squid game is paused with ep1 in my list💀)

Last movie: Spiderman nwh

Sweet savoury or spicy: mmmh I'm usually not picky with it,so all depending on the situation I guess?😅

Currently working on: sorry idk which one I have to pinpoint, probably the most, exam? 💀

Celebrity crush(es) here I swear I already mentioned Andrew is the first among them 👁️👄👁️

Three favourite songs tag!

@jakelogic @zmayadw @i-desire-jake @artic-willow 😭❤️ thankies!

Nope I still can't get rid of this song 👆

I'm sorry if I missed someone, because you know, Tumblr tangles all notifications🤠,but please ,please let me know if I missed the tag💙

Take care of yourself and wishing you a lovely day/night!!💕💕💕💕

#personal stuff #amelia answers #THANKIES 😭💕 #Spotify #i compiled all together oops sorry🙇‍♀️ #very sorry for spamming you all 🤧

[nativerse]

Letters From Mabe to Tabantha

​Hi everyone! I’m finally able to post the piece I wrote for @memorabiliazine​, as preorders have started shipping! It tells the story of a woman who has moved from Tabantha Village to Mabe Village, through letters she has written to her childhood friend. I wanted this story to focus on the life of an ordinary person living in Hyrule, years and years before the calamity started. We often think of the people in Hyrule in the context of the horrors that happened to them, and the ways in which they survived, but what about the times when they experienced life ordinarily, not defined by the calamity they were destined to live through?

I absolutely loved writing this— please enjoy!

My dear friend,

The air in Mabe is so different, but I’m becoming acquainted. Here it envelops every breathing thing, thick like honey, sunshine and expansive sky, but I am accustomed to the crispness and cold frost of Tabantha. I write to you now as I sit, at my window, as little spots of light flicker through the trees and onto the objects of my house, illuminating them strangely, as with everything else in this town that light touches. Life here is so different, and the softness of the air has yet to become a friend to me. Increasingly, I long to feel something familiar, anything recognizable, but only one thing has caught my eye—

To the north I can see the spires of Hyrule Castle. I remember fondly, in our youth, when we would sit and watch the sun rise in the east, silhouetting the castle beautifully. We dreamt of a life within those walls. Now, as the veil of distance and childhood is lifted, a life like that does not seem as inviting… But I still have caught myself staring at those tall, arched windows from time to time, looking to catch a glimpse of movement. I wonder if the princess wishes she was someone like us. Maybe a little bit of my younger self is still alive in me, deep down.

You would love it here, in the warm verdure. Beyond the boundaries of this village we are surrounded by fields for miles, and from here I can see the long grasses sway like the ocean. I know Tabantha lies past those fields, and I know you are there, too, somewhere on the horizon. I am not as far away as I feel. There are so many people here, more than there ever were at home… Even now, I hear my neighbors laughing in the streets below. But I still cannot dispense this feeling of isolation. It is clinging to me like my memories of Tabantha, and my memories of you.

I will see to it that this is sent to you, and I await your response. I think I will catch one of the merchants moving west and put this letter in their care, so it will arrive swiftly. It has only been a few nights, but loneliness is not something to be underestimated. I’m afraid I will forget your face by the time we meet again.

I am thinking of you, always.

With love

——————

My dear friend,

The seasons are truly changing in this part of Hyrule. This morning I awoke to quite an affirming blanket of snow on the ground, and I realized just how long it has been since I’ve seen a landscape like the one in Mabe today. It was a soft reminder of home, one I am already hesitant to let go of... No matter how life presented itself in Tabantha Village, there was certain reassurance found in that monotony of snow.

This may sound strange, but late at night, when I am on the edge of sleep, I can see those white, rolling hills of the village so vividly. I see the mountains and the icy rivers of Hebra, just as I did in childhood, I see my hands, my footprints in the snow, I see my mother’s face, whole and reflective like the moon. I see yours.

I dreamt last night I was sitting on that river bank above Hebra Plunge, staring down at myself in the water. It felt so real, but some bitter reason, no matter what I did, I could not recognize my own reflection. I was an outsider to my own body and mind, occupying a world I had no place in, looking down at someone I did not know. I continue to ask myself what this could mean, but I remain with only questions, and no answers...

I woke from sleep with a sort of residual homesickness, the kind that makes your whole body ache. As much as I wish I could dispense of that feeling for good, there was still something comforting about waking up to find that snow had fallen. The world greeted me at dawn as if it was an old friend.

Remember to stay warm.

With love

——————

My dear friend,

I was walking home the evening before last, watching birds circle high above me, and a memory surfaced, one I have not thought of in years—

Do you remember during those warmer months, when your father would let us accompany him on his trips towards the Tabantha frontier? Those were the days when we hadn’t travelled anywhere outside of the village, and every excursion past the boundaries of home felt like a lifetime to my childhood mind. I was too young at the time to remember what the occasions for these trips were, and as we grew older I never thought to ask, but the memories from such trips still linger… We would fall asleep as we left home and wake up as the highest tower of Rito Village came into view from behind the mountains. That feeling has stayed with me since then, along with the warm smell of pine and dust in the air. No matter how much time goes on, I don’t believe I’ll ever forget it.

I remember wanting to see everything, and touch everything I could. Life felt so big and overwhelming and unknown, and we had only just begun to explore it. I wonder, would you want to go back and experience that feeling again, if it were possible? Even for just a moment? The world feels much smaller now than it did years ago— Or maybe now, I simply take up more space in it. 

The passage of time recently has become obvious to me. It is hard to believe I’ve been in Mabe for almost two years. It has begun to feel like home here, but I believe part of my soul will always remain in Tabantha, buried somewhere deep in the snow… 

I’m sorry. You tell me to look towards the future, but I cannot help dwelling on these old memories. Time passes by so quickly, and the only choice we’re given is to continue along with it. We will never be children again, this I know. Isn’t it strange how something can be so beautiful, yet so heartbreaking, all at once?

It is difficult to put into words how all of this made me feel on my way home. I just kept walking, and kept watching the birds.

With love

——————

My dear friend,

Have I ever told you about the view from my bedroom window? When the air is clearest I am able to see all the way across Hyrule Field towards the Tabantha Hills from this spot on my bed. Years ago, on slower afternoons, I would go out into that big sea of billowing grasses and sit down, and watch wild horses graze in the distance, and imagine what the journey would be like if I walked all the way back to you. A fleeting, sunlit moment of peace in a life otherwise full of confusion... I do not have the time anymore for such excursions, but I do still think about it once every so often…

Time continues to pass quickly, to no one’s surprise. Last winter, my neighbors had a son. I see them daily, and it astounds me how fast he is growing. On the days when they need help looking after him, I bring him to Hylia River just east of here, to let him wade around in the shallow water and chase frogs. I love watching him experience the world with such perfect, fragile simplicity… I often imagine what kind of person he will be when he’s older, but for now it is enough just to watch him babble and laugh. One day he will be different, just as we all will be. More than anything, I want the world to nurture him gently as he lives in it. How beautiful it is, the ability to grow up.

I have a question to ask you, one that I have been considering for some time now. I know your birthday is quickly approaching, and in the past we have always settled for sending gifts back and forth… But, would you like it if I made a visit home this year, in time to celebrate with you? I feel terrible that I have not offered sooner, but the occasion to do so always seemed to pass me by without warning.

Please let me know. We have been apart for far too long.

With love

——————

My dear friend,

I can hardly wait to see you again. In packing up my things, I came across my old coat in the back of my wardrobe, the one your mother made for me. There has not been a need for it in this fair Mabe weather, but I never had it in me to give it away… It still holds that faint smell of charcoal I had forgotten about…

How much have you changed since I left all those years ago? I wonder, do you still have the first letter I wrote? As embarrassing as it is to say, I’ve kept all of yours. They serve as good medicine for when I find myself thinking of Tabantha. I try to imagine your voice speaking to me as I read them, but what a relief it will soon be to hear it from your own mouth instead.

I’m counting down the days. By the time you read this, I will most likely already be on my way... 

Sent with great anticipation and all of my love

#my writing #legend of zelda #breath of the wild #memorabilia zine #botw zine #loz zine #natpost #thanks for having me!!! (つ﹏<)･ﾟ｡

[doc-pickles]

the storm & the wind

Brooke is running and Alex happens to meet her along her journey. Their brief encounter might just change everything for her.

hey hi hello I am DOUBLE POSTING for some god damn reason. (i updated treacherous on AO3 for the the first time in 20 years) this was in my drafts and I felt the sudden overwhelming need to finish it today. I love this piece more than I can say and it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy so I hope y’all enjoy it.

also the title comes from this quote from Little Women: You are the gull, Jo, strong and wild, fond of the storm and the wind, flying far out to sea, and happy all alone.

+

The snow crunching beneath her feet soaks into her worn Converse, a chilling reminder that she should’ve thought to grab something warmer. She makes a mental note to throw her now soaked socks over the heating vent later as she walks into the diner. It’s an old rundown place, but the gust of warm air that brushes over her face as she enters is a more than welcome feeling. Sitting at the counter she knows she should order something to eat but she can’t bring herself to ask for more than a cup of coffee when an aging waitress comes by and asks, her fingers greedily clutching the mug as she takes a sip.

“You’re not really dressed for the weather.”

The voice startles her, her grip around the cup tightening as she turns to her left. The owner of the voice can’t be much older than her, his chiseled jawline dotted with stubble and his dark hair cropped close to his head. He looks grumpy, an expression more at home on someone twice his age but the glint in his eyes keeps his youthful appearance.

“Your shoes are practically soaked through and you have a sweater on in 13-degree weather,” the stranger continues to share his thoughts, his comment prompting her to pull her cardigan tighter around herself. “I’m guessing you’re not from around here Blondie.”

The observation reminds her that the thick braid hanging over her shoulder is a bright bleach blonde instead of her natural brunette coloring. She’d hastily dyed it in a rest stop somewhere in Ohio, desperate to wash away any traces of him that she could.

“I’m from New Jersey. Well… Kind of. I’m originally from Pennsylvania.”

The words slip from her mouth before she can second-guess them. Normally she would worry about giving any identifying information out, the fear of him being able to find her consuming her mind. But she knows now that she’s far from New Jersey and the life she left behind.

“You’re from the East Coast and you didn’t pack a winter coat?”

“I forgot… I was in a rush.”

That part isn’t a total lie, she had been in a rush when she left. She had shoved as much as she could into her suitcase while he had been working, not wanting to face his anger at her sudden departure. Now though she wishes she had put more thought into what she grabbed, she’d been freezing since she left.

“Here, you look like a wet dog shivering like that,” the man slips his thick red flannel off, holding the garment out to her with an expectant look. “Cmon, I don't have fleas or anything.”

She takes the proffered jacket, only because she’s shaking just as much as he says she is. The heavy material settles on her shoulders instantly warming her. The man looks at her for a moment before turning back to his coffee, speaking as he stares at the dark liquid, “If you're from Jersey what the hell are you doing out here? Middle of nowhere Iowa isn’t exactly a tourist destination.”

“I’m starting over, running away from… something. At least I think I am. I’m not quite sure,” she toys with the sleeves of his jacket, finally looking back up at him after a moment with an accusing tone. “Why do you care anyways? Are you just trying to make sure I don’t have any concerned family members that will come looking for me after you kidnap and murder me?”

There’s a momentary pause before a peel of laughter erupts from the man, a glint taking over his dark eyes as he speaks, “Jesus, you’re really paranoid or something, huh?”

“Or something,” the words are barely a whisper, but they’re loud enough for him to hear and stop his laughter. She looks up and meets his eyes, noticing how he looks her over as if trying to figure out exactly what she’s thinking.

“I’m not trying to kill you, just trying to make conversation,” as if to prove his point he holds his hand out towards her. “I’m Alex.”

She hesitates only for a moment before settling her hand into his much larger one.

“I’m Brooke.”

+

The conversation seems easier after that, Alex talking about bringing his younger brother home after he had visited him in Seattle and Brooke talking about how she just finished her pre med degree at Princeton. They actually had a lot in common, an almost comforting feeling for her since Paul had isolated her from all her friends.

Paul.

She didn’t dare bring up her abusive husband or the horrors he had dragged her through. No, today she’s not poor defenseless Brooke Stadler whose husband can’t control his temper. Today she’s just Brooke, recent college grad who’s eating breakfast with Alex, the cute doctor with a charming smile.

“So why’d you say you’re starting over,” Alex finally broaches the subject as they both finish their meals. “I mean you just finished pre-med, that means you’re starting med school in the fall right? What are you running from? ”

Brooke shrugs, eyes falling to her now empty plate and she avoids Alex's piercing stare, “I’m supposed to start at Princeton med but now I’m not so sure. A lot has happened lately… It's complicated.”

Alex‘s hand reaches out for her arm, the move causing her to jump slightly. An embarrassed blush paints itself on her cheeks as Alex searches her eyes, almost as if he knows what she’s thinking about. He seems to brush the thought off quickly though as he continues to prod at her.

“Well… Did you get in anywhere else? It’s not too late to change your mind,” Alex shrugged as if sensing Brooke’s discomfort with the situation. “I was supposed to do my residency at the hospital down the street before I switched to Seattle at the last minute. Best thing I probably could’ve done for myself.”

“Well… I got into Harvard too. But I’m not sure,” there’s hesitation lacing her voice when she knows there shouldn’t be. Her mind is swirling, thinking about the fact that she could always go back to him. “I don’t know, I was thinking about going back home.”

Alex scoffs, the small noise causing Brooke to stare at him intensely, “You're not going back home, that’s a load of crap.”

“What makes you so sure about that? You don’t know anything about me.”

There’s a pause as Alex takes a sip of his coffee, a deliberate distraction as he attempts to string together the right words, “Well that black eye isn’t hidden as well as you think it is. And you jumped about a mile in the air when I first started talking to you. So I’m assuming you’re not running from something but someone. Did I get it right?”

Brooke’s fingers froze around her mug, eyes watering as she stared blankly at the dark liquid swirling inside. She pushes down the uncomfortable lump forming in her throat, trying to convince her nerves that Alex was just observant and not a threat.

“My husband… he has a temper,” eyes still focused on the coffee instead of Alex, Brooke found it marginally easier to talk about the real reason she was sitting in a diner in Iowa. “I just knew, the last time he… I just knew if he did it again he would kill me. So when he went to work I grabbed as much as I could and I got in my car and I drove. I don’t think I stopped for almost five hours, not really knowing where I was going. I just knew I had to keep going, that I couldn’t live like that any longer.”

The sounds of the diner around them are all Brooke can hear as her truth settles in the air, Alex taking in everything she’d ungraciously word vomited out. When he finally does speak again, there’s no tell tale tone of pity in his voice that she’d been anticipating.

“My dad was the same way, but my mom never had it in her to run. She was pretty messed up herself,” Brooke looks up at the stranger next to her as a small chuckle breaks through his serious tone. “She wouldn’t run so I had to raise my siblings, I had to make sure we all stayed alive. So I get it, why you’re running. And for what it’s worth, I think you should keep running.”

Swiping at the tears that had collected under her eyelashes Brooke thought about Alex’s words, “He's gonna find me, I know he will.”

“Screw him,” Alex scoffs, taking a swig of his coffee before continuing. “Go to Harvard, change your name, live your life. I promise you, you’ll regret it if you turn around and go back. You have a chance, a real chance, to change your life. Don’t let that slip away.”

There’s a beat of silence as Alex’s encouragement settles deep within Brooke’s chest. The man was a stranger in every sense of the word but somehow his whole hearted belief in her encouraged her to keep moving forward.

“Think of it this way, you get to start a brand new life, no strings attached,” Alex continues. “You can pick something cool! Something that means something. Like… One of those sisters from the book where their dad is away at war?”

“Little Women?”

“Yeah that one,” Brooke laughs at Alex’s statement, causing him to roll his eyes. “Oh shut up, my sister was obsessed with it and made me read it like a hundred times. But all those sisters were badasses, you could use one of those names. Like Amy or Beth. Well no she dies… How about Jo! You definitely look like a Jo to me.”

Brooke’s nose scrunches up at the names, causing both of them to laugh as Alex comes up with ridiculous suggestions. A flood of relief washes over Brooke as the two continue to talk. It had been a long time since she’d let her guard down around someone and just been herself.

A while later she excuses herself to the bathroom, a flash of disappointment striking her when she comes back to an empty seat. Her bill that had been sitting on the counter was paid, the receipt turned over and messy scrawl covering the back.

‘Keep running.’

-

So she does, Brooke keeps running and running and running and she doesn’t stop. In fact, when the running doesn’t feel like enough anymore she takes up actual running to calm her mind.

She runs every morning, at least two miles to clear her head and to keep herself sane. The days she misses her run are filled with overwhelming thoughts and anxiety that courses through her veins so quickly that it feels like a river crashing over her nervous system. She changes her name, cuts her hair, goes to Harvard and graduates top of her class. Every movement, every breath feels like she’s just moving towards the end of a never ending trail. But she keeps going, she keeps running because it’s all she can do.

When she gets accepted into Seattle Grace, one of the best hospitals in the country that puts thousands of miles between her and her past, it finally feels like a breath of fresh air, like relief is on the horizon. So she leaves Boston, leaves the east coast and everything familiar and finally feels like she might be able to stop running.

Seattle is different, it’s new and unexpected and perfect. It’s the first place where her name feels like it’s truly hers even though she’d lived with it now for almost seven years. Her first morning in her new apartment she goes for a run and finds herself looking over the Seattle harbor with a wide smile on her face. She’s a doctor now, something she’s worked towards her whole life it seems, but now it seems so real.

And then she gets put onto a Peds rotation and her heart seems to stop beating in her chest. Because her attending, Doctor Karev, is someone who’s appeared in her mind almost everyday since the first time she met him. His face, albeit a bit younger, is the one that appears when she thinks she can’t go on any longer.

“You mind?”

Alex’s voice brings her back from her daze, the same one that echoes her footfalls as she chases an adrenaline high every morning. She shakes her head in a futile attempt to clear it, “Sorry.”

“Why are you following me,” there’s an annoyed tone to his voice as she mimics his brisk pace down the hallway. She’d heard horror stories about him, about how rude and mean he was but she never would've guessed it was him.

“I'm your intern for the day.”

“Oh. Well, hello, intern,” Alex side eyes her, not really taking her in. “You have a name?”

“Jo. Jo Wilson,” it’s probably the fiftieth time she's said her name out loud since coming to Seattle but this time it feels different.

There’s a pause and Alex turns to take her in once more, as if he had missed something the first time he’d looked. She almost thinks he’ll say something, but he just shrugs and returns to tying his trauma gown, “Oh, nice. I like chicks with boys' names.”

The moment that she thought was there was gone and she stared at her shoelaces as Alex and Doctor Torres prattled on about something. She figures she should be grateful that he didn’t recognize her, that the seven years and the constant self improvement she’d put into herself had paid off. Still, her heart sunk as she realized that the man that had pushed her to keep running, to change her life, didn’t remember her.

-

Their story isn’t easy, in fact it’s one of the hardest things she’s ever been through. But there’s not a single ounce of hesitation or regret in her body when she wakes up every morning next to him. She’s always up before him, solely so she can get her run in before he wakes. By the time she comes back and showers, his eyes are sleepily staring up at her and his arms are reaching out for her like she’d been gone longer than a quick jog.

Alex is the person she’d needed, the one who pushed her to be better and made her feel like she didn’t need to change anything about herself. But the need to run, to keep running still hammered in her chest right under her heartbeat. She figured it would always sit there, the constant anxiety that her past might catch up with her if she stopped running.

When Paul shows up, all she wants is Alex. Before Seattle she would've run, would’ve been gone before anyone could blink to miss her. But now she wants nothing more than to curl up in Alex’s arms and never leave. She knows there’s more that needs to be done though, knows there’s more to the fight and that she needs to keep running this last little bit.

It’s not until she sees her ex husband laying in a hospital bed brain dead that Jo finally feels like she can breathe again, like she can stop fighting and just be. The breath of relief that washes over her as Alex runs his hand down her back feels like a thousand pound weight being lifted off her shoulders.

“I was pregnant.”

There’s a pause and she can feel Alex tense next to her, his hand on her back slowing as his eyes bore into her. She wishes she could stop but the words have been dying to slip out for the past six years that she’s been with him.

“The day we met, I was pregnant,” she turns to look at him, tears shining in her eyes. He doesn’t look shocked, not as shocked as he would’ve been if he didn’t know too. “I almost turned around and went back to him and raised a baby with him but I didn’t. The only reason I didn’t was because of this cocky asshole I met in a shitty diner who convinced me to start over. You’re the reason I kept running, the reason I didn’t go back. Whenever I doubted myself I heard your voice, the voice of a complete stranger mind you, in the back of my head telling me to keep running. You... you’re the reason I’m alive.”

Alex keeps his gaze on her for a minute, not daring to look away as they both realize that the other has known. Through the years of their relationship, since their second meeting in the very halls of this hospital they’ve both known exactly who the other is.

“You did all of that by yourself, you just needed a little push,” Alex brings her close again, his lips brushing against her forehead as she folds herself into his side. She’s crying full on now, her chest shaking as she finally lets herself stop running and lets the pent up emotions of the past few days wash over her. “I knew you could do it, I’m glad you did.”

Her tears don’t stop for a few days as she comes to terms with the fact that there’s no longer a need for her to run. In fact a few days later as she’s on her morning jog she stops and takes the deepest breath she feels she’s ever taken. As she leans on her knees she takes in the feeling of air freely flowing through her lungs, the exhilaration coursing through her body akin to what she thinks completing a marathon must feel like. Her eyes scan the Seattle harbor, taking in the sunrise as she breathes heavily and lets the day settle in around her. She'd run her race, she’d run it longer and faster and better than she’d thought she was capable of and finally, finally, she had finished.

#jolex fanfic #jolex #Alex Karev #Jo wilson #Jo Karev #grey’s anatomy #grey’s anatomy fanfic #Jo x Alex #jolex fic #nina writes

[theawkwardterrier]

Fateful Friends

The surprise part 2 of my Steggy Secret Santa gift for the very cool @sagesiren​/@theeleganteuropeanwoman - a Peggy POV modern AU avec Bucky and Angie because they wouldn’t allow me to fit them in last time. A somewhat belated Chanukah gift for you - or I guess a very early one for next year?

Summary: An afternoon of helping out Angie leads Peggy to a chance encounter. 

Read on AO3

“Carter,” Angie says, tapping a finger against her wrist even though she isn’t wearing a watch. “I love you, and it’s because I love you that I don’t mind telling you that you’re a big liar. You promised 11:30.”

Peggy sighs but saves the document she had been working on. Angie is right. Peggy had said they would leave at 11:30 and it’s already 12:15.

“We can stop at the bakery on the way,” Peggy offers, swiveling her chair around to reach for her purse and coat. “My treat to make up for delaying us.”

“Perfect,” Angie says brightly. She’s a bit flushed: she had refused to remove her parka since she got here nearly an hour ago as a pointed reminder that Peggy had promised only five more minutes, though she had unzipped it after about a quarter of an hour, and she’s also wearing a beret she keeps adjusting even as she insists that it makes her outfit. Still, she hops to her feet readily, hooking her arm with Peggy’s. “And this won’t be a drag, I swear. Just a girl’s day out, the two of us on the town, cleaning out my dead grandmom’s place.” She considers as they stop in the doorway to let Peggy flip off her office lights. “Okay, maybe we’d better get extra of the lemon pound cake to keep things fun.”

Peggy sighs. “Lead the way.”

There had been a bit of extortion involved in the whole business. Six months ago, Peggy had agreed to allow Angie to start setting her up. But after multiple mediocre dates (and one which ended in a well-deserved black eye for the man in question) she had begged off and refused to be convinced otherwise, even when Angie complained that this would ruin her credibility as a romance columnist and swore over and over that she had actually found the absolute perfect guy this time, the one Peggy would truly regret not meeting.

It isn’t that Peggy doesn’t want a relationship. She isn’t being too picky, and she hasn’t decided that her career should be her focus just now. But planning, the precise thing which has served her well her entire life in so many areas, seems to have failed her now. Online dating, singles mixers, allowing herself to be set up by friends, all the tried and tested strategies - nothing has led her to anyone she would even consider as a lifetime companion, and just this once, she has decided that she will leave things up to chance.

Standing firm on the dating question, however, apparently meant that Peggy was required to join Angie whenever requested and to do whatever favors she required in exchange for reneging on their original agreement.

In the end, though, spending a Saturday with her best friend is always enjoyable, even if they’re sorting the belongings of a recently deceased ninety-eight year old woman who Angie refers to as “the old bat.” They try to one up each other for the oddest item found in their cleaning, and eat their way through altogether too many pastries. As they trade off picking playlists, Angie even provokes Peggy’s competitive spirit enough that they both end up showing off their dance moves.

After eight hours of work, Angie decides that they have done enough for one day, even though they’re nowhere close to finished.

“Sixty years of crap isn’t going to shift itself in one try,” she shrugs cheerfully, searching within one of the scattered “keep” boxes for her other glove. “And I was forced to do all this out of oldest granddaughter sexism. I’ll come back next week and make my cousins help.”

Peggy laughs, retrieving the missing glove from beneath the once-fancy living room settee. The two of them gather the rest of their belongings, making certain the lights are turned out before they weave around the boxes to get to the front door.

On the threshold, Angie digs for the keys to lock up the brownstone, a beautiful Brooklyn property which her family couldn’t have bought with the help of a fairy godmother if they had wanted to try today. Peggy breathes in the sharp cold of the night air, turns to comment on it to her friend, then spins immediately back around as a snowball whizzes past her ear and explodes on the façade of the house just beside her.

A man’s voice from somewhere out on the darkened street shouts, “Bucky, what the—” Cutting himself off before actually verbalizing whatever curse he clearly wants to, the man changes tone, calling, “Peppermint hot chocolate for anyone who hits Bucky in the next five minutes.”

In the next second, the street comes so alive with childish chatter that Peggy can’t believe she didn’t notice the apparent army of little ones nearby. Over their whoops and cries, another man yells, “Not my fault that your shot went out of bounds. I just ducked - self preservation instincts, Rogers, if you’ve ever heard of them.”

Squinting into the dim streetlight, Peggy pinpoints where the second man’s voice is coming from, just as the thickly swaddled shape of him is tackled by several smaller forms and pelted with snow from all sides. Another shadow breaks away from the place on the street where last night’s half foot of snow has turned into haphazard forts on either side of a snowy battlefield, jogging toward where Peggy and Angie still stand on the steps.

“I’m sorry about the snowball attack there,” he apologizes as soon as he’s close enough. “We don’t usually drag strangers into our fights, or at least not before we’ve learned their names.”

Peggy hasn't been in a snowball fight since she was twelve - well, fourteen, if she’s being honest - declaring war on her brother Michael back at their house in Hampstead when they were both home from school for the term holiday. Perhaps she's been a bit infected by the lively afternoon or the stress of the past several weeks is finally catching up to her, but she finds herself turning and saying to a man she has never before met, "My name is Peggy Carter, and I'd be delighted to be recruited if there's room for one more, considering that hostilities have already been accidentally declared."

Apparently he didn’t expect a response like this, a strange woman deciding to take a chance. His eyes widen, but only for a moment before he says, "Well, sure, there's plenty of snow."

Glancing back at Angie, Peggy tells her, "There's no need to wait for me while I indulge myself in a bit of winter warfare, of course. Go off home and put your feet up."

But Angie instead looks delighted in a way that's almost outsized for her best friend taking her recommendation to relax a bit. "Oh, I'd never miss this," she says. "I'll just watch our things and spectate from over here." And she unhooks Peggy's purse from her shoulder and shoos her off toward the battlefield.

"Steve," the man says as they set off up the street together. "I'm Steve. Steve Rogers. By the way."

"Lovely to meet you," she says politely.

She isn't particularly prepared for this sort of activity - her boots are fairly practical for walking from apartment to subway stop to office though clearly are not meant to do much heavier lifting - but she ventures that it can be forgiven considering how spur of the moment the entire thing has been. However, Steve is not, Peggy notices, exactly dressed for the weather either. It’s a bit too cold for a waist length peacoat, thin gloves, and a loosely hanging scarf, and he seems to have half soaked through everything. When they pass under a streetlight, she looks up toward him and observes that his cheeks are flushed red, though it actually suits him quite well, making the blue of his eyes shine.

"Were you pulled into this under similar circumstances?" she asks.

He laughs a little shyly. "No, Bucky—My friend, Bucky - you'll meet him in a minute—Anyway, his mother invited a bunch of their family over for the afternoon, and between all the cousins there are a dozen kids running around these days. We just volunteered to keep them occupied."

She wants to ask exactly where he fits into the structure of his friend’s family, but they are nearing the place where the children are still shouting and pelting Steve's friend.

"I've brought someone else to even out the teams," Steve calls, and the kids leave off, coming to surround the newcomer instead.

After introductions have been made - Steve's friend Bucky gives Peggy a look which is strangely appraising but completely without objectification - Peggy is informed of the rules (no faces, no sand or rocks mixed with your projectiles, ten seconds of reprieve after you've ducked behind the walls of your team's fort) and assigned a team (Steve's, which sends a thrill running through her which she doesn't care to examine, settling for a decisive head nod and a small smile in his direction).

She had forgotten, in the years since she had last participated in a snowball fight, exactly how exhilarating it could be. Her careful plans for methodical stockpiling and adherence to ideal technique are soon thrown out the window in her haste to simply get the next missile prepared and launched at the opposition. As she and a small girl named Iris fling nearly loose snow at the other side of the street, she finds herself laughing more freely than she has in ages. At one point, she and Steve end up huddled against the wall of the fort next to each other.

"Your hands must be freezing," he comments, and when she looks down in surprise at her red fingers, she realizes that he is right. He strips off his sodden gloves and wraps his hands around hers, trying to press some heat back into them. It’s futile, considering that his hands, while larger, aren’t any warmer, but she doesn’t stop him. When he tries to pass his gloves over to her, however, she declines with a smile.

"Oh, I could never allow anything to interfere with my process."

"Right." He unwraps his scarf instead, offering it to her. "Maybe this way at least some of you will be warm, and you won’t lose your edge either."

She won't swear that it's feeling the wool still toasty from his neck which allows her to jump back into the fray with renewed vigor, but she certainly wouldn't swear otherwise.

Her watch and phone are buried within her coat, but it cannot be much later when the door to what Peggy guesses is Bucky's mother's house opens and a group of people starts to stream out, each member gravitating over to collect particular children. Peggy stands at the sidelines as Steve and Bucky are kissed on the cheeks and thanked for their babysitting efforts. Angie ambles over just as the last of the kids, little Iris, is taken off with a wave of her cheerfully red mitten.

“Enjoy yourself, English?” she calls, grinning as she picks her way down the sidewalk around the disarranged clumps of snow. “Haven’t seen you have this much fun in ages, although it’s also reminding me why I’m never playing laser tag with you again.”

“My skill doesn’t only apply to snow. I’m a bit of a laser markswoman,” Peggy tells Steve who has returned to her side, apparently having finished being showered with familial affection by Bucky’s relatives.

“Laser sharpshooter,” Angie corrects. “Laser sniper. Laser no-holds-barred, take-no-prisoners—”

“Angie?”

Bucky has joined them, looking at Angie with surprise which turns quickly into a smile and a hug.

“Bucky Barnes!” Angie says after they’ve broken away. She’s still framing him with a hand on each arm but she lets go to give him a friendly whack on the shoulder. “I should have known there couldn’t be that many Buckys in Brooklyn.” Stepping back so she can face Steve and Peggy fully, she says, “Bucky and I are...I mean, Bucky’s mom and my mom are...Well, we’re...We must be—” She glances up, clearly trying to mentally map out a family tree.

“We’re cousins, somehow,” Bucky fills in smoothly. “Just like me and half the neighborhood.”

It occurs to Peggy that the situation might be awkward - they had just seen a number of Bucky’s relations leaving a gathering to which Angie clearly hasn’t been invited - but Bucky says, without apparent unease, “I guess you’re in the area to clean out your grandma’s place?” and then adds as an afterthought, “God rest her.”

Angie rolls her eyes, though not, Peggy suspects, at Bucky’s insincere tone. “My mother kept making noises that Jersey was too far to come for just the day and couldn’t I just take care of it, so I finally gave in.” She loops her arm through Peggy’s. “Carter here has been the perfect assistant - without her, I’d have either tried to keep everything or just backed the garbage truck up to the front door and set up a funnel.”

“You’d never - you might miss out on some heirloom to hold over everyone’s heads,” Peggy says with an affectionate elbow to Angie’s side. “And I certainly had my fill of fun sorting through objects from decades gone by, along with that snowball battling which capped things off perfectly. But I think it might be time that I started making my way home.” She truly has had a wonderful afternoon, the sort which will live fondly in her memory (including the feeling of Steve’s hands wrapped with such gentle and precise strength around hers), but the idea of a steaming bath and freshly laundered pajamas sounds absolutely heavenly at the moment.

“Oh,” Steve says softly. He extends a hand. “Well, it was nice to—”

“No,” says Bucky, shaking his head, and “No!” Angie adds with hasty vehemence.

“I’m sorry?” Peggy angles herself to try to see Angie’s face, but it’s Bucky who answers.

“You’re soaking wet, and I’m guessing that you don’t live on the next block. My mother would kill me if she found out I didn’t at least give you something dry to get home in.”

“It’s a lovely offer—” Peggy starts to demur, although she is now noticing that she’s quite chilly and it is going to be a bit of a slog home. Before she can get any farther, however, the door to Bucky’s family home opens up and a woman stands silhouetted in the spilling light.

“James Buchanan Barnes, I hope that you weren’t thinking of leaving these two young ladies out here in the cold without inviting them in to warm up.” She walks carefully down the steps, arms crossed over her chest, but she throws them open as she spots who is standing there. “Angie Martinelli, is that you? Wonderful to see you, sweetheart, come here!”

Angie releases Peggy to submit to a hug and a rapid-fire back and forth of greeting. Peggy suspects that their chances of making a smooth escape have just decreased rather dramatically.

“I’ve known Mrs. Barnes all my life,” Steve says quietly from over Peggy’s shoulder. “She’s never going to let you get away with leaving before you at least have on dry socks. And anyway, I promised hot chocolate to whoever managed to hit Bucky, and I definitely saw you paste him at least once.”

She smiles despite herself. “I believe it was peppermint hot chocolate which was promised.”

He laughs as their eyes meet, though his flick downward just after, a new flush filtering through his cheeks that she suspects has nothing to do with the cold.

“And who do we have here?” Mrs. Barnes asks, clearly finished cooing over Angie.

Peggy turns, smile still on her face. “Lovely to meet you, Mrs. Barnes. I’m Peggy Carter.”

“Get out of here while you can,” Bucky whispers fifteen minutes later, and Angie nods, telling Peggy, “If I ever need you to take a bullet for me, I expect you to remember this moment.”

“Why on earth would we be standing beside each other with bullets flying?” Peggy asks, eyebrow gracefully arched.

Before either of the others can reply, however, Steve takes Peggy’s hand from behind and tugs her away, whispering, “They’re not wrong,” as Mrs. Barnes returns with arms stacked with twenty-year-old photo albums.

“I promised Peggy something hot to drink,” he tells Mrs. Barnes more loudly. She waves them off, probably half from good hostess instincts and half eagerness to force the remaining two into a walk down memory lane.

It doesn’t escape Peggy’s notice that Steve doesn’t relinquish her hand until they’re safely in the kitchen, although it’s quite apparent where it is. She can’t say that she minds, however. With neither of them wet and frozen any longer, it’s much easier to appreciate the gentle solidity of his fingers, the press of their palms against each other.

Too soon for her to have cataloged the sensation entirely, Steve lets her go and starts moving around to the pantry and cupboards. Peggy stands watching him, curling her toes against the floor in the borrowed socks she is now wearing along with an absolutely divinely plush gray cardigan loaned to her by Mrs. Barnes. The lady of the house had insisted on adding the wettest items to the dryer - “As if I would let you back out into the street like that to freeze. My mother would come back and haunt me!” - which had included Peggy’s blouse and coat, though luckily not her singlet or her jeans (damp, but dark enough to have avoided scrutiny, so Peggy hadn’t needed to strategize a polite objection to wearing someone else’s trousers).

“I hesitate to offer considering my skills in this area, but can I do anything to help?” she finally asks.

Steve shakes his head as he sets a saucepan on the stove. “This is about the only thing I can make, but I can do it with my eyes closed.” He gestures her over to a seat, which she takes.

“Why was peppermint hot chocolate the one recipe you ever learned?” she wonders as he lights a burner and adds together milk, cocoa powder, chocolate chips, and a bit of sugar.

“I learned plenty,” he says, angling himself to see her and stir at the same time. “This was just the only one that stuck. My mom worked a lot, and plenty of night shifts. It was just the two of us, so I wanted to make sure she would come home to something warm and good after all of that. She passed a while back, but I still make it for Bucky’s family when I’m around - they’ve always been great to me.”

“Ah,” Peggy says, trying to sound normal and satisfied with his answer instead of a bit overcome by his factual sweetness, the way he seems completely unresentful of the multitude of Barnes relatives while he apparently has no family left. She clears her throat. “And what is it you do, other than distribute homemade hot beverages?”

He flashes a bit of a smile at her, tucking his hands into the pocket of the sweatshirt he had borrowed from Bucky’s old bedroom upstairs. His hair is adorably mussed from pulling it over his head, and Peggy can’t quite tear her eyes away.

“I run the art program over at the community center,” he says, turning to add a few drops of something to the chocolate mixture. From the scent which suffuses the air, Peggy guesses that it’s peppermint flavoring. “Afternoon classes, activities with the schools, workshops. My under-twelve group just put up a display at the local library if you want to go visit.” He sounds absurdly proud.

“How wonderful.” The words come out even more softly than she had thought they would. She tries to pull herself together with the crispness of tapping straight a stack of papers, but doesn’t quite manage it. The soft smile won’t leave her face and she wonders if it might be a permanent fixture now. Oh, they’ll certainly go their separate ways shortly, but she feels that there was some amount of luck involved in her having had the chance to meet him in the first place.

Blinking a little, he turns away and unwraps a few of the peppermint candies Mrs. Barnes has set out in a dish on the counter. “What do you do?” he asks, crushing the candies with the handle of a knife.

Feeling her smile fade a bit into something more businesslike, less touched by gentle joy, Peggy says, “I’m the policy director for a non-profit.” It’s her standard response, the beginning of a slow wade into the more detailed answer. It is also, she has to admit, the beginning of a test, one which nearly all the potential partners Angie had tried to set her up with ended up failing.

“Which one?” Steve asks, gliding unknowingly through the first level of scrutiny as he scrapes the crushed peppermints into a palm and deposits them into the pot, beginning to stir again. (Peggy still sometimes finds herself surprised at how many people are so eager to turn the topic back to themselves that they accept the most simplistic answer and move along.)

“The INRJ,” Peggy says. It seems that she’s holding her breath just a bit as she gives her usual pause. She finds that she does not want Steve to make a misstep in this. She thinks she might forgive him if he did.

“The International Network for Reproductive Justice, right?” The way he gives her a look, double checking, deferring to her knowledge: if there were truly points, he would have earned himself a bonus just then. “Back when it was the International Pro-Choice Network, my mom used to bring me along to play under the table while she was stuffing envelopes or phone banking.” He tilts his head to the side and adds, “Bucky actually reminded me of that a few weeks ago - he saw an ad for the symposium you were holding and thought I should check it out.”

“Oh, yes,” she says, using the reminder of work to shore herself up a bit from melting. “I was meant to speak about the effects of the global gag rule, but I ended up sitting on the tarmac at Heathrow instead.”

He makes a commiserating face. “They did say that the talk about adoption and foster care in eastern European countries was a last minute replacement, although the speaker was really good. I hadn’t realized that was supposed to be your spot. I’m sorry you didn’t get a chance to speak; I would have liked to hear what you had to say.”

“Yes,” she says, slightly dazedly, the word nearly lost in the sound as he snaps off the burner. “Natasha is quite talented. She always gives a good presentation.”

“The community health initiatives to reduce parent and child mortality in Sierra Leone sounded like amazing stuff too.” He’s still talking as he reaches into a cabinet for a pair of mugs, apparently not noticing her reaction. “I ended up donating to the hospital building fund after I got home.”

She’s told dozens of men over the years what she does for her job, and the responses have run the gamut from indifference to confusion to polite questions, from furious rants about the sanctity of life to pompous assurances of allyship. This is the first time she’s heard one of them discuss her organization’s projects with true interest, the first time everything seems to have been said genuinely and unprompted and without the aim of impressing her.

Which is why it does all the more.

“I was glad Bucky suggested it,” Steve tells her, setting her mug in front of her. He takes a seat across from her, his own mug in hand. “He’s been trying to get me to go to all of these random places lately, and the symposium was one of the more interesting.”

“I’ve actually been experiencing the same thing with Angie,” Peggy says, seizing on the topic as a way to keep her equilibrium. “In the last month she’s taken me to a wine and cheese tasting, a Broadway play, and an art showing at the Sage Gallery, which I actually think I would have enjoyed if I hadn’t needed to spend most of it in the stairwell on a conference call.”

Steve, who had been about to take a sip from his mug, lowers it back to the table. With care, he says, “Bucky tried to get me to go to a wine and cheese night but I had to fill in running a watercolors class at the senior center. We went to a Broadway play but ended up switching seats with mom and little kid so they could be on the aisle.” Voice dropping a bit, he adds, “And I had a showing of some paintings at the Sage Gallery three weeks ago.”

They glance in unison toward the living room, as if they might establish some facts by merely turning in the direction of their friends, but all they hear is the low sound of chatter and laughter.

“Angie has arranged so many dreadful dates for me in the past,” Peggy says, leaning over the table to speak to him quietly. “I told her she wasn’t allowed anymore.”

Steve nods. “When Buck sets me up, they always think I’m going to be just like him, and it’s awful to see their faces when they realize I’m not. I just wanted a break from having to sit through dinner with someone who was disappointed that it was me there.”

The mug is hot against her palms, and she finds herself taking in deep breaths of peppermint-scented steam. “One of these days, he’s certain to find you someone who isn’t an utter bloody fool, then,” she says, and though she truly means the words, they come out soft instead of sharp, an outstretched hand.

“I sort of think,” Steve says, tipping his chin up so his eyes catch the light even as they lock with hers. “I sort of think that he’s been trying.”

Later that night, once she’s tucked away in bed, she thinks about fate and design, the overlap between them, and decides that it doesn’t matter how the moment comes to be if she doesn’t do anything with it. She takes a deep breath and texts him: Your hot chocolate was quite good. Perhaps we could meet sometime so you can show me how to properly prepare it?

Not even a minute later, he responds: I think we can come to an arrangement.

Angie only gloats a little when she hears that a hot chocolate making lesson and a week of texting has led to the arrangement of an actual date. Bucky is not as gracious. Peggy can’t quite bring herself to care, and by the undeniable flicker of Steve’s smile, she suspects he feels the same.

#steggysecretsanta #Steggy fic #Peggy Carter #Steve Rogers #sagesiren

[jovialyouthmusic]

A Lythikan Liaison

After the death of Jackson Walker, the young King’s Guardsman Bastien Lykel accompanies the Royal family to Lythikos in mid December. 

Word Count 3517

Absolutely NS*W and NO UNDER 18s 

Pairing; Bastein Lykel and OC

1 At a Loose End

Bastien Lykel stamped his feet to dislodge the packed snow from his boots as he entered the staff quarters at Lythikos Lodge. The Royal family was spending some time before Christmas in the duchy and taking young Olivia back to the Palace for the festivities. It meant half of the King’s guard, recently deprived of its popular captain, Jackson Walker, travelled with the King and his two sons. Bastien had been Jackson’s protege, and the new Captain had his own favourite, so his duties had diminished somewhat. Bianca, Drake and Savannah had remained at the Palace, as Bianca didn’t seem to have the will or desire to uproot the bereaved children from their home, despite the attractions of skating and building snowmen. To be truthful, it was dubious as to whether the family would stay in Cordonia, and Bastien thought it likely that they would return to Texas.

So he had leisure time that he barely knew how to spend, as his shift was over and Captain Parker had told him he wouldn’t be needed until the return journey. He wondered why he’d been brought along at all, knowing that his time would have been better spent supporting the Walker family. He suspected that Constantine wanted him to cut his ties with them in order to concentrate on his job. But if that was the case, Parker should be keeping him busy, not laying him off.

He sighed as he took his coat off and hung it where the snowflakes would evaporate in the warm air of the entrance hall. He went to the canteen and took a bowl of stew and a crust of warm bread to a table looking out over the frozen lake. A few of the Lodge staff were also eating their evening meal but left him alone, which suited him fine.  The Lythikans knew how to make good hearty food, he’d give them that. He disliked their spiced drinks and the nog turned his stomach, but the red wine was robust and strong and the beer was tolerable in moderation.

He refused the hard spiced cookies that were handed out from table to table by a dour serving woman who leered at him and winked broadly, asking if he wanted someone to warm his bed for him or if he preferred a hot water bottle. Her tone made it plain that such a device was only for weaklings and children. He glared at her and replied he was perfectly capable of making his own arrangements and made his way to the bar, where a few of his fellow guards sat drinking.  Lewis sat alone at a table at the edge of the room, able to see all that went on, as a good guard should. Bastien went over to join him, seeing his glass was almost empty.

‘Hey Bas, how are you holding up?’ Lewis asked. The two men had joined the Guard in the same intake, and had helped each other through some of the more arduous training exercises. Bastien had finished top of his year with Lewis a close second, and the two men had formed a strong bond.

‘I’d be just fine if Parker gave me more to do’ he grumbled ‘I’d far rather be working than told to go and relax.’ He eyed his companion’s glass of Skullcracker ale, making a resolution to have no more than two pints himself before he went back to his tiny room. He may not be working the next morning, but he could do without the crashing hangover Lythican alcohol gave him nonetheless.

‘Sleeping okay?’ Lewis knew that Bastien suffered flashbacks from the assassination attempt that had taken his mentor’s life. Bastien shrugged.

‘A little better’ he admitted ‘It’s too cold to get up and wander around so at least I stay in my bed until breakfast’

‘I wouldn’t admit the cold to the natives’ Lewis said in an undertone ‘They make them hardy out here. It’s only been a decade or so since they stopped putting newborns out in the snow to test how strong they are.’ Bastien snorted

‘It’s rumours like that which keep relations between Lythikos and the rest of Cordonia at an ‘us and them’ level.’ Lewis shook his head and drained his glass of ale.

‘Don’t look now, but those two over by the bar have been eyeing us up since you came in’ Lewis said with an almost imperceptible nod. As he had said, two women were looking in their direction, no subterfuge in their appraisal of the King’s men. They were both well built, one of them taller, close to Bastien’s six foot four inches and had pale skin and rich auburn hair.

‘I’ve already been offered a bed warmer, maybe I should take one of them up on it and get it over with’ Bastien mused.

‘You know what Lythicans are like, you’ll be in for a hard ride’ Lewis warned him. He handed his glass to Bastien, who stood up to go and order ale.

‘I’ve not much better to do’ he said ‘I should make the most of my down time’ He strode to the bar and put the glass down. The bartender raised his eyebrows at him.

‘Another pint of Skullcracker and whatever these two are having’ he nodded at the two women. The taller one held eye contact as she replied.

‘Are you sure you can handle that ale, King’s man?’ she asked ‘Most foreigners find just the one enough to send them to their knees’

‘Foreign? I’m Cordonian just like I presume you are’ he replied ‘Or are you claiming Lythikos is independent of the Crown?’ She frowned

‘Last I heard, Constantine insisted he’s King, and Duchess Lucretia hasn’t made a counter claim. Yet. And we call any non Lythican foreign, even if they come from the next village outside the duchy boundary.’ she replied acidly, but indicated to the barman that she’d accept Bastien’s offer. The other woman took two glasses of ale and went to join Lewis at his table.

‘So what part of Cordonia do you hail from, King’s man?’ she asked, as she took a healthy gulp of the ale that made Bastien hope he could match her without invoking the hangover.

‘My family comes from the capitol’ he said.

‘Oh yes, and what name do you go by?’

‘Lykel. Bastien Lykel’ She pursed her lips and nodded

‘A distinguished name. You might have a claim to the throne yourself if you can prove your lineage.’

‘Power doesn’t interest me’ he said, shaking his head ‘Attending banquets and balls and talking to trade delegates isn’t my idea of a fulfilling lifestyle’ He took a gulp of the thick ale. ‘I take it you’re Lythican?’

‘Naturally. The name’s Marcia. Marcia Wolfsbane’

‘That’s a fine surname too. Have you got links to the Nevrakis?’

‘Only in service, but then doesn’t most of the duchy?’

‘What do you do for a living?’ he asked curiously, and she laughed out loud, slapping her palm on the bar.

‘Can’t you tell? I’m in the same line of business as yourself. I’m part of the Lythican Guard. I saw you and your friend arrive with the Royal family’ She grinned at having bested him. Taking another swig from her glass, she nodded at him appraisingly, her gaze raking him from head to toe ‘You want to come back to my place and fuck?’ she asked. Bastien swiftly got over his chagrin at missing her occupation and gave her a slow smile. He liked directness, it left no room for misinterpretation and he was relieved that she wasn’t interested in drinking herself into a stupor. It had been a while since he’d had anything but brief encounters and wondered if this would be more than a one night stand. It wasn’t important, his job didn’t allow for romantic commitment although Lewis had a steady partner.

‘Sure, why not. Let me finish this first’ he replied.

------

Ten minutes later he found himself walking beside the tall woman along the narrow streets of the town that served the lodge and ski slopes. The Lythicans had found there was money to be made from winter sports in peace time and had spared no expense setting up resorts in the hills. Between the low log cabins the snow turned to slush underfoot and he was thankful for his good leather boots and thick socks that kept out the cold and wet.

‘You do realise that a couple of decades ago you wouldn’t have dared to be alone with the likes of me?’ she pointed out ‘Thank goodness for peacetime’

‘I like to think I’m a good judge of character’ he replied. ‘It’s my job to assess dangerous situations’ They trudged on for a while, passing other Lythicans walking to and fro in the darkening early evening.

‘Is it true you use those new tracking devices to keep tabs on each other?’ she asked curiously.

‘I wouldn’t tell you if we did.’ He said shortly. She turned down a dim side street which struck him as the sort of place that unwary travellers might be lured before being relieved of their valuables. Warily he scanned the shadows for lurkers as she strode on.

‘My home’s just down here, King’s man. I share the cabin with my friend back at the bar when we’re off the duty rotation. She’ll leave us alone for the night so you won’t have to worry about disturbing anyone.’

‘Does that depend on the willingness of my partner?’ he asked ‘He’s in a relationship, I’m not sure that he’ll bite’ Marcia shrugged as she stopped at one of the almost identical cabins and put her hand to the door. Bastien noted that it wasn’t locked, a sign either that there was no crime in the town, or that nobody would dare take anything from the occupants.

‘She’ll find someone or somewhere else’ The door swung open and she beckoned him in. ‘Boots off’ she ordered. Bastien bent to unfasten them and left them by the door next to hers and shrugged off his thick coat. The cabin was cool and smelled of spice and pine. She had already hung up her own coat and disappeared through a door off the lobby. He followed to find her kneeling by a wood burner setting a match to it. It took easily and the room was soon warming up.

‘You’ll take a hot drink?’ she asked

‘Only if it’s not spiced’ he replied ‘I prefer my drinks plain.’ She laughed

‘You’re missing out, King’s man’ she exclaimed ‘They warm the blood and heighten the senses’

‘No good if my stomach’s turned’ he said sourly ‘A nip of whiskey does the job very nicely’

‘In that case, hot chocolate with a dash of brandy. No spice’

‘That would be very welcome’ She disappeared, and he took stock of the room. He knew that the town was relatively new, extended to service the ski slopes, and the few traditional buildings were at the centre of the town, and here on the outskirts the buildings were less than five years old. The cabin walls were of dark logs that gave a sense of warmth, and the check curtains were thick and heavy. The furniture was mostly dark stained pine, modern but utilitarian. The couch and chairs were draped in woollen throws, the wooden floor augmented by thick rugs. Red was the predominant colour with accents of green and splashes of golden yellow. Shelves held books and trophies, and he went closer to examine the gleaming silver. Marcia re entered the room with two mugs. He turned to take his, nodding toward the trophies.

‘You have a lot of awards for markmanship’ he observed. She shrugged as he blew on his mug to cool the hot chocolate, plain as she had promised with no scent of spice and no cream, but an aroma of good brandy rose to his nostrils. He took a sip and felt it beginning to warm him from the inside.

‘I have plenty of time to practice, and the hunting in the woods is good’ She put her drink down and took the hem of her woollen jumper, pulling it up off and throwing it onto the couch, with a sigh that indicated that she was hot. She still wore a simple blouse and under vest and was well built, solid and muscular but with enough womanly curves to stir his desire. He knew Lythicans were hot blooded and very active in the bedroom with a casual attitude toward the number of partners they had at any one time, so he had come prepared with protection. Nonetheless, he had a question for her.

‘Are you currently in a relationship?’ he asked. She looked at him over her cup, her piercing blue eyes locking with his grey.

‘Only with my housemate. Are you?’

‘No, but I don’t want to cause any conflict’

‘You won’t’ she said ‘There’s nothing complicated about this unless you want it to be’

‘No, simple suits me just fine’ She put her cup down and moved closer.

‘You have milk on your moustache’ she said huskily, and leaned in to suck at his top lip. He groped to put his mug down on the table next to him, returning the kiss and putting his hand to the back of her neck.

‘Your hair is too long’ she said, reaching up to his forehead, but he gripped her wrist before she could touch it. She bit her lip ‘Someone could twist their fingers into it and control you’ Bastien realised with a flash why all the Lythican guard, male and female, had short cropped hair. He took a pride in his appearance, and his raven black hair was his weakness, always glossy and impeccably styled.

‘They’d have to get close enough to start with, and a good wrist lock would solve the problem even then’ He twisted her wrist to demonstrate, just until he saw her grimace, and let go. She knew her stuff, and it was refreshing to connect with someone so tuned in to his own profession. Truth be told, it was more of a lifestyle than a job. He hoped they could trade work experiences without compromising any confidential information.

But at that moment there was something more primal at hand, something basic and physical that stirred and aroused him. He was always holding himself back, keeping something in reserve, and he guessed that he could let go with her, be himself in a way he couldn’t with anyone else he’d encountered so far. She pushed him back and they stumbled to the couch. A split second decision allowed her to push him down and follow so that she was straddling him, triggering his arousal as her thighs clamped to his. Again she reached for his hair and he countered, pinning her wrists behind her back. Still she surged forward, her breasts pressing to his chest, her lips crashing to his. She lost her balance, allowing him to pivot so that she was the one sitting on the couch. He braced his knee between her thighs, letting go of her wrists. She put her palms to his chest, keeping him from leaning in to claim her lips.

‘One of us has to yield’ he panted.

‘The stronger the fight, the sweeter the surrender’ she growled, and bucked forward pushing him onto the floor. He landed on his back, the thick woollen rug cushioning his fall as she followed him down. He fought back, and they rolled around on the floor, neither giving in until they paused, both panting with exertion, Bastien on top but bracing his weight off her, elbows locked.

He straddled her, pinning her hips down and straightened up to take his sweater and shirt off, warmed through at last from their battle for supremacy. Her eyes blackened as she gazed at his broad muscled chest and flat abdomen scattered with dark hair. Again she bucked and threw him off, mirroring his effort by pinning him to the floor and stripping to the waist before falling on him and delivering scorching kisses and little nips along his neck to his shoulder. Her breasts were small and firm despite her stature, her belly soft but flat, and he was hard between her thighs. They rolled around the floor managing somehow to assist each other to strip naked and end up side by side, her thigh thrown over his hip, breathing hard. She reached down to judge his size with fingers and palm, and a slow smile spread across her face.

‘You are big in every way, Bastien Lykel.’ she murmured appreciatively. ‘I knew there was something about you worth pursuing’ Despite the woollen rugs and the heat of the wood burner the floor was hard and cold and he was grateful as she rose and pulled him to his feet, guiding him with purposeful stride to her bedroom. It was cool but she threw back the bedclothes to drag him on top of her, sinking into the firm mattress and spreading her thighs for him. She rose to sink her teeth into his shoulder and clawed at his back. With an inhuman effort he drew back from her, not quite lost yet.

‘I have – we need protection’ he panted.

‘In the bedside drawer’ she groaned ‘Hurry, I’ve not bedded a man for months’ He fumbled in the drawer and found a foil packet, tearing it open and hoping it was large enough for his girth. He was in luck, and rolled the rubber sheath over his length without discomfort. She pushed him over onto his back and mounted him like an animal, pressing her sex to him before guiding him where she needed him and he placed his hands on her hips, trusting that she knew what she was letting herself in for. She groaned as she started to lower herself onto him, alarmingly tight, but she was wet and the noises she made assured him that pain and pleasure were inseparable for her.

Soon she sat flush to him and rolled her hips, rising up above him and throwing her head back with a guttural cry before leaning forward to bury her face in his between his neck and shoulder, sucking and biting. What they did in that bed bordered on fighting as they wrestled for dominance, rolling over, tangling in the bedclothes, settling into a fierce steady rhythm that challenged the strength of the bedframe. Bastien realised that she could take anything he gave her, and savagely thrust into her willing flesh, pinning her hands above her head until she arched her back and gave out a loud ululating cry. He felt her pulse around him, and with a roar he followed her over the edge until they lay spent and panting, and he rolled off her to the side.

‘Are you sure you’re not from Lythikos?’ she panted as he cleaned himself up.

‘I may have some ancestors somewhere along the line’ he remarked. He went to the bedroom door.

‘You can stay the night if you like’ she said from the tangle of bedclothes. He paused in thought. He could remember his way back to his billet but was reluctant to dress and go out into the cold.

‘That’s generous of you. I need to get my clothes and fold them’ When he returned, she had straightened the blankets and thrown them back for him, a naked leg uncovered. He got in and lay on his back. He wasn’t a cuddler and the bed was wide. She seemed to understand, and curled into herself on her side of the bed.

‘When are you on duty?’ she asked

‘Not until we leave’ he replied ‘My superior seems to think I need down time, but I’d rather be busy’

‘I heard about Walker’ she replied, and he gritted his teeth.

‘I was there’ he said shortly, feeling himself tense at the memory.

‘He sounded like a good man. I never met him’

‘And you never will’ he turned his back to her.

‘I’m sorry for your loss’ she said quietly. ‘That was insensitive of me.’ He snorted, biting back resentful words. He felt her hand on his shoulder. ‘I’m off duty tomorrow as well. If you like, you could come hunting with me’ Her hand fell away. ‘If you look outside the back you’ll see the green and the communal cookfire. All the cabins that back onto it contribute – either with meat or vegetables, or by cooking. I need to make my donation’

‘I’ll think about it’ He was tired – tired of the flashbacks, tired of grieving, tired of worrying about the Walker family, and now from the physical exertion he had just undergone. He felt the comfortable glow of his release, and that and the brandy lured him closer to the edge of sleep. He felt his eyelids grow heavy. His companion was silent, and he surrendered to the dark comfort of slumber.

@sirbeepsalot @stopforamoment @drakesensworld @katedrakeohd​ @texaskitten30​ @be-still-my-aching-heart @hopefulmoonobject @dcbbw @classylady1234 @rainbowsinthestorm @kimmiedoo5 @bascmve01  @ibldw-main @addictedtodrakefanfic @trappedinfandoms @fluffyfirewhiskey​ @kingliam2019 @bobasheebaby​ @marshmallowsaremyfavorite​

#bastien lykel #Bastien x OC #trr bastien #lythikos

[chibitantei]

@bluescarfvivi​ sent: Mystery slowed to a steady trot when the home of Vivi's own cousin came into view. Snow fell in large clumps, clinging to the cold ground and pavement. The night almost came to a close, for the traveling red and blue gift-giving duo. Vivi slid off the kitsune and carefully removed packages just for her favorite, and only, cousin. It still felt surreal. A part of her real family keeping connections with someone considered an outcast. She took great care placing each wrapped package at her doorstep, then knocking several times before making a hasty retreat.

Off to more homes and more friends. She couldn't stick around much longer.

Each gift was wrapped in dark blue and silver paper. Bows of the same color decorated the tops of each box with name tags on each. The first package contained Naoto's very own scarf. A deep blue to match her own hat, finished with frilled edges. The second box held a gun care package, which included a new holster. It was handmade, but not by Vivi's hands, and embroidered on it was the logo of the Mystery Skulls investigation team. The last gift was much different than the others. Less meaningful and more cursed. A pair of jort shoes. Tall heeled shoes shaped like boxing gloves. Shoes resembling human feet. A variety of cursed footwear just for her dearest cousin.

An envelope sat on top of the gift mound stamped with a blue snowflake and a paw print.

‘Merry Christmas cousin. Here's a few gifts you'll find enjoyable. Thanks for sticking around and getting to know me a little more. I didn't think any kind of family would ever want to see me. You're horrible sometimes, but you're my cousin. I wouldn't want anyone else to replace your cursed energies.’

- Somewhere along the way, the holidays lost significance and ended up turning into normal days. Crime doesn't stop then, presents given to Yakushiji and Grampa are simple. In turn, what she receives is simple. Gifts that aren’t new pocketbooks and pens are a recent development. Naoto can’t recall a time where she’s ever had to pay attention to Christmas catalogs or refresh a website every ten minutes just to see if there are deals.

A horrible ordeal.

She brings the gifts inside, places the lighter ones on the desk in her room, and as luck would have it, the first box she opens is one filled with useless items. Ebihara made a comment once on her “Frankenstein boots” but it has function, a purpose, doesn’t cause one’s eyeballs to shrivel up. What the hell are any of these? Who would wear these?

There’s only one reason Naoto can think of.  These horrible shoes are payback for that present she gave Vivi, aren’t they? Not only that, but for those chain link messages she’s sent as well.

Kicking the box of horrid memorabilia away, she moves to the presents on the desk, carefully removing the wrapping paper.

Box one contains a scarf, the same color as her hat. Just like how Vivi wears that scarf with her constantly—even in hellish temperatures—Naoto can do the same if she wants to pass out from heatstroke. In the colder months at least, she can wear it with no repercussions. Be paraded around to the rest of Vivi’s friends, too.

Box two holds the essentials for gun care, all excellent quality too. The logo on the holster... Does it indicate that she’s a part of their group now? Even though she lives kilometers away from the main base of operations? Maybe she’ll wear it the next time she sees her cousin, whether here, in Tempo or somewhere else.

Really, it’s... odd knowing that she has family overseas. Not even her extended family in Japan care much about family reunions. The last one was five years ago. She hardly remembers anything, but her past self wouldn’t have paid much attention.

As she reads the card, Naoto finds her cheeks growing warmer and warmer by the second. To think that they’d discover each other... Was it fate that brought them together, or was it their fortune? If she never looked through the family records to pacify the nagging feeling playing on repeat, she wouldn’t be standing here, reading this card or with a box of horrible creations on the ground.

...Speaking of the horrible creations, she’ll have to pawn these off.

#Ask Status: Answered #v: Seeker of Truth #bluescarfvivi #long post #long live this horrible horrible family #Event: Christmas Gift Giving

[lu-undy]

Chapter 63 - SBT

Here it is!

Day after day, week after week, month after month, Perle grew up to become the most beautiful cat Mundy had set eyes on. Whenever he walked in the streets, people would stare at that scruffy man with a majestic snow white cat laying on his shoulders. 

And she grew up to be rotten spoilt, that cat! The kids spent their time petting her and she was never out of scratches' reach for very long. Her fur grew up so much that her tail looked like it was made of soft cotton. She would wave it left and right, walking along her Dad, protecting him for strangers. But Mundy had raised her to accept children and he could even sometimes see a bit of a mother's instinct on her. 

He would set her free and she would roam the streets with other cats sometimes before coming back home to eat and sleep. Meanwhile, Mundy got busy with the homeless around there, as usual. He gave Maurice a hand, here and there. Sometimes he was serving soup, and he helped prepare it, other times, he was running a few errands for the tall king of beggars. 

They only had one agreement. Mundy would refuse any remotely risky job, might it be just passing on information on a hot target from one courier to the next. And Maurice had agreed. He respected that. 

Most of the time, Mundy was at the storehouses, helping out. The rich folks of town would get rid of what they don't use: clothes, toys, anything. The beggars would then collect all of it and go through it. Keep what can be of use or easily repaired and get rid of the rest. Mundy would be one of those people. He either went through bags and bags of clothes, or he would repair the occasional toaster or electric appliance.

He was moderately happy with it. It was honest work, the pay allowed him and Perle to live comfortably in the van and he would even sometimes find some clothes for himself, or for the cat. July and August were coming and the temperatures were gently going down, and more and more beggars gathered around barrels in which they lit fires. 

Mundy relied on his clothes and his little electric heater in his van. 

"Meow?" 

That evening, Perle insisted on going out for dinner. She kept on meowing again and again and refused to eat her tuna. 

"Right, let's get somethin' out then, baby."

"Meow!" 

"I know you're not a baby anymore, but you’ll always be a baby to me, kitty cat…”

“Meow…!”

He chuckled and they walked in the streets. Perle never strayed too far from her master so he didn't even use her leash. She would trot here and there, jump on low walls and Mundy didn't worry for her. At each cross-road, she would come and sit down at his feet. Only when he started crossing the road, would Perle follow, trotting happily. He had noticed her doing that with Lucien, back in the days, and he guessed that he was the one to educate her so. 

And the more she grew up, the more Mundy saw the resemblance between her and her Papa, not physical of course, but in her character. She was a precious cat and behaved as arrogantly as Lucien used to. But under her thick fur of snow white aristocratic looks, Perle was the most gentle lady cat around. She would let children play with her and would offer a paw to people who held out their hands, whoever they might be. 

"Oh, hey, there, how may I help?" 

"V, it's me." 

"What-?!"

"Meow." 

Victoria's eyes moved down to Perle. 

"Is that you Pearl?! Oh my God, you grew up so much! And M, sorry I didn't recognise you with short hair…!" 

"It's ok, don't worry. Can we have a table?"

"Sure, d'you wanna…?" Victoria was about to offer the same table Mundy used to come to with Lucien back in the days. But on second thoughts, maybe he had moved on and didn't want to dig up the past. After all, Lucien had passed months ago now.

"Yeah, I will, if the table's free." He answered. 

"Sure, go ahead - oh!" Victoria turned her head and saw Perle already lying on the table. "I guess someone is ready to order, eh?" 

Mundy chuckled. 

"Yeah, kinda." He went to sit at the table. "She actually was the one to push me to come here." 

"Really?" 

"Yeah." 

"She's a great cat." Victoria said.

"Meow." 

"And a big one too, look at you, baby, your fluff is everywhere, I can't see the bloody table!" 

"Meow!"

Victoria chuckled. 

"Alright, I'll give you a minute to make up your mind."

"Thanks, V." 

After a few minutes, the waitress came back. 

"So, are you guys ready to order?"

"Yeah, I'll have a coffee and a croissant please. If you have a bit of tuna for the lady, that'd be great."

"Sure. D'you mind if I take a coffee with you?" 

"Oh, sure." 

"Right, I'll be back in a minute. Oh and by the way, you can call me Victoria. L called me V because when I asked him his name, he said L." 

Mundy smiled. Yeah, that sounded like his Lu' alright…

When the young woman came back again, she was carrying a tray. She put the plate with the tuna can in front of Perle and gave Mundy his coffee and croissant. 

"Thanks, mate." 

He opened the can of tuna and Perle started eating it. 

"So," Victoria sat down. "What's up?"

"What's up…?" Mundy repeated. "Well, not much, to be honest. I work with Maurice, helpin' out the poor. Perle helps out with uh…  mice control let's say."

Victoria smiled. 

"She grew up so much…! I remember the first time L brought her here. She was a tiny baby-faced kitten with massive eyes. And now she's the most beautiful cat ever…! Doesn't surprise me that L got her."

"He didn't buy her."

"What?" Victoria asked. 

"He rescued her. Found her skinny and shivering at his hotel door."

"Are you serious?" 

"Yeah. He told me he gave her some tuna and he thought about releasing her. But she didn't want to go."

"Oh… She looks so… I don't know, she looks like him but in a cat. Her fur is as prim as his suits, she's got the same gaze in her eyes, she's confident about herself…" Victoria said, staring at Perle. 

"Yeah, she took a lot from her Papa."

Perle stopped eating and pricked her ears at the mention of the word. 

"Meow?" 

"Yeah, we're talking about Papa, baby." Mundy brushed her head gently. She closed her eyes and purred. 

"D'you know what breed she is?" 

"I'd say ragdoll, maybe mixed with something else? She's got the same long hair and the shape of the eyes." He answered. 

Perle finished her tuna and laid down on the table, lazily waving her tail left and right. 

"And what about you, Victoria? Last time I heard from you, you said you were engaged?" Mundy asked.

"Yeah. We want to get married and we're slowly getting the money for it."

"That's great, congrats on the ring, eh." Mundy pointed at her finger. 

"Thanks! It's a beautiful thing, yeah."

"When d'you think you'll have the wedding?" 

"Somewhere over December, when it's warmer." 

"Fair enough." 

"And uh… Can I ask… Uhm," Victoria hesitated to ask. "On your side of things… Have you, y'know, maybe seen someone else?" 

Mundy smiled.

"Nah. Still love him." He simply answered. "I go and visit him on the weekend. Tell him about my week, about anything really."

Victoria looked distraught. 

"Don't look at me like that, I'm doing fine. I just…" Mundy sighed. "I just know there's no one else like him or as good as him. He's… Y'know, he wanted to be here and not sent back to France even though he only spent a few months here. That constantly blows my mind when I think about it."

"Oh…" 

"He told Maurice he wanted to be next to me. I'm - I'm happy about it but it just… What surprises me is that he didn't want to be buried with his fiancée and kid. I mean…"

"Bloody hell, he must have loved you unlike anyone before…"

Mundy blushed and looked down at the empty coffee cup that he held between his hands. 

"Well, then we're two." 

"M, look, I don't mean to tell you what to do or anythin' but maybe it's time to, y'know, find someone else or…?"

"Nah, V. Can't do it. My mind's stuck."

"I can see that. You talk about him still in the present, even after all these months."

"Yeah, it's even worse than that." He admitted, still not looking her in the eyes. 

"What d'you mean?" She gently asked. 

"I won't bother you with this." He answered. 

"Please, M, you don't bother me. The way I see it, I do it for him. He wouldn't want to see you anxious with no one to talk to. So please, go ahead."

Mundy took a deep breath and sighed. 

"To this day, when Perle and I go to sleep, we hold on to one of his jackets. She uses it as a blanket and I just… I hold it for the smell of it. And when the perfume goes away, I spray a bit more of it. But that's not all… I uh… I started smoking more."

He put a hand in his inner pocket and took the metallic cigarette case that belonged to Lucien. 

"I guess they are the same cigs as him?" She asked and he nodded.

"And everyday that God makes, I look at this old thing to tell me the time before realising that the time will always be 4.26pm, the time at which…" Mundy had pulled up his sleeve a bit to show Lucien's broken watch and he couldn't finish his sentence.

"You can't have it repaired?" She asked. 

"I could. But I don't want to change anything in it." Mundy covered his wrist again and opened the cigarette case. He took one and lit it.

"Hold on…" Victoria said, staring at the case. "Can I…?"

"Oh, sure, you smoke too?"

"No, it's just…"

Victoria opened the case flat on the table again and pushed the cigarettes left and right. 

"Is that you and your parents?"

Mundy almost choked. Behind the cigarettes was that picture of him that had been missing from the van, the most recent picture he had of his parents. 

"What the hell is it doing here?!" He asked. 

"You didn't put it there?" She asked. 

"No! I've been looking for it everywhere! I thought I'd lost it, I - huh?!" He gasped when the realisation hit him. "Lu'..." 

"What?" Victoria asked. 

"It's him. He stole a picture of me and my parents and…"

Victoria's eyebrows jumped. 

"What?!"

"Listen. On the day of his funeral, after the ceremony, I went back to the van with Pearl. I tidied up the place and realised that this photo was missing. I have a few of them stuck to the wall and this is the last one I have of my parents and I. I thought it had fallen, maybe even flew out the door one day without me realising it."

"How does that all loop back to L?" She asked. 

"There was one day that Lu' came to my van alone. After he came back from it, he told me that he couldn't help but have a look around my stuff, the curious bastard… That's what he meant! He took that picture and…" 

Mundy looked down and removed all the cigarettes from the case. He took that photo and Victoria saw another one behind it. Mundy put them both flat on the table. 

"This was his fiancée and kid, and him obviously."

"Oh my God, he looked so young!" 

"And that's me and my parents…"

"Woah… And he kept both in his cigarette case?" 

"That he carries everywhere, all the time. Each time he would open it he would see…"

"You." Victoria said. 

Mundy sighed but with a smile. 

"I love you, you thief…" He muttered to himself. 

Victoria grinned but deep down, she was concerned. No one visits the grave of someone they used to love that frequently for that long. No one clings to souvenirs that way, no one sleeps with their ex-'s jacket, spraying it with their perfume, no one starts to smoke as their ex-'s did… 

"M?"

"Yeah?" 

"I have to tell you this because no one else might."

"What is it?" He asked, looking her in the eye.

"You probably shouldn't do all these things."

"What d'you mean?" 

"The cat is more than enough for you to remember him by."

Perle stopped bathing herself and turned her head to her Dad. She had felt it. Dad became hot and he smelt weird. He wasn't scared or angry, it was somewhere in between.

"I can't." He clenched his jaw and looked down. 

"What do you mean?" She asked. 

"I tried. I tried not doing all these things. But without his jacket, I can't sleep, without his cigs, I get too anxious to the point where I can't leave the van and even Perle can't do anything to make me feel better."

"That doesn't sound too good, M."

"Yeah, well, didn't sound good when Maurice told me that he passed either, eh." He answered passive-aggressively. 

"Maybe you should see someone." She suggested. 

"Told you. There's no one else half as g-"

"No." She cut him. "Someone to talk to, about all this." 

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. 

"So you think I have a problem?" He asked. "I'm not mad."

"I'm not saying that you are. I am just suggesting that you try because it might do you good. I've never met anyone who didn't go past the grieving stage for that long. From what you tell me, it's like you live in denial!"

"What?!" He asked. 

"You live with all his stuff as if he was still there, but he isn't! He's been gone for months!"

He frowned. 

"Look, M, it's not good that you live like this. You are not really living in the real world. You need to open your eyes and believe the hard truth. Don't hide from it, don't try to put together an act to pretend he's still here."

Mundy couldn't hear any more of it. He took the cigarette case back and left. Perle jumped after him the second he did and followed him. 

Their walk back home was silent and she could feel her Dad was distraught. 

"Meow?"

He didn't answer and continued walking. He slipped in his van and locked himself in before letting himself fall on his sofa. 

"Meow?" 

He didn't know what to say.

"It doesn't make sense." 

Perle laid on his chest, brushing her head against his. 

"How can I just… forget? I can't! I can't pretend it didn't happen! And I'm not pretending it didn't happen! If it hadn't happened, we'd be with him, wouldn't we?" 

"Meow…"

"I mean it stands to reason…!" He looked into Perle's eyes and she started kneading his chest with her fluffy paws. He sighed. 

"Sorry to yell at you, baby. I shouldn't. You did nothing wrong." He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her dearly. "I just miss him… I wish he was still there. And with winter coming, I just feel a bit miserable, is all." 

"Meow." 

"D'you think V was right?"

"Meow." She looked up at him with her bewitching eyes. 

"Hm." 

Perle trotted away to the door and scratched it repeatedly.

"Wanna go out again?"

"Meow."

"Alright, here… Door's open. Be careful with cars and stuff, eh?" 

Perle sat at the doorstep. 

"What? You're not going?"

"Meow." She sat there, her long fur brushed by the cold wind of winter. 

"Wanna come in then?"

"Meow." She refused and sat such that Mundy couldn't fully close the door. He sighed. 

"It's really cold, baby, now either you get inside or you go out."

"Meow." 

"What d'you want?"

She turned her head up to him. 

"Meow?"

"With you…? Alright…" He put on his coat again and followed her out. 

This time, he let her completely decide where she wanted to go and followed behind. Mundy's eyes were lowered down to his boots as he walked the pavement mindlessly. The sun went down fast and soon, he walked in the periodic puddles of sodium orange street lights.

When she turned, he did. When she stopped, he did. He put his hands in his pockets and sighed as his thoughts continued to roll, powered by his frustration and distress. 

How he wished Lucien was there, how he wished he could be walking the streets with him! Even if they wouldn't hold hands out in the open, even if he wouldn't show how much the posh snob counted for him. Who needed to hold hands when one simple gaze spoke a thousand words? 

And Lucien's eyes… Two drops of ice. Cold and yet the most sensual gaze Mundy had ever crossed in his life. It was absurd but each time he locked eyes with him, he would feel the attraction, in his own mind, in his heart, and everywhere else. His hands would have pins and needles to the tip of his fingers, his knees would weaken and feel like jelly, his whole chest would beat a march of warmth, comfort, and safety. 

But those days were long gone and similarly to a decade ago, time was passing, treading over him, trampling his face with heavy hooves whilst Mundy was stuck, like the hand of a broken watch, like the hand of Lucien's watch. 

"Meow!" MIAOU

Perle broke Mundy's descent to the coldest places of his mind. 

"What?" 

She trotted to a door and sat next to it. 

"Meow." 

Mundy frowned and raising his head, he saw the name of the establishment blink in golden neon lights. 

The Queen Victoria. 

He sighed. 

"Oh bugger… And of course, you want me to get in?"

"Meow." 

"I'm not dressed properly for this, baby. And I don't have the energy."

"Meow!" She insisted. 

"No." He turned on his heels and walked away. The sound of his heeled boots resounded loudly in his ears until he stopped at a crossroad. When the cars braked to let him through, he looked down but Perle wasn't by his side. 

"Pearl?" 

He looked round and around, his eyes scanning his surroundings as he suddenly realised that the streets were busy with people, walking, running, busy like bees in the city. 

"Pearl?! Baby! Where are you?" 

He walked back on his steps and finally found her.

"What the hell are you bloody doin' here?" 

She was still sitting next to the entrance door of the Queen Victoria.

"Meow!"

"C'mon, let's go back home!"

"Meow!" She insisted and meowed louder such that people in the streets stopped and watched the man talk to his cat, the poor fool… 

"Right…" He pushed the door and got inside to escape all the eyes that were riveted on him in the streets.

"Good evening, Sir. Long time no see! Your usual table is free, if you would be so kind…" 

"Wh-?"

Mundy didn't have time to say anything and in no time, he was seated back at the table he used to come and watch Lucien from. Perle climbed on the opposite seat and on the table to lay down there. 

"You're in a lot of trouble, Pearl. I don't have any kind of money to pay anything from here…"

Mundy looked around. The restaurant was less busy and the same musicians were on stage. When their piece ended, people applauded left and right. It didn't boom like it used to back when Lucien was singing there.

"Sir?"

"Huh?!"

"Oh, sorry to scare you, here, this is on the house, from Andy and his musicians."

It was the same old chocolate dessert that a waiter had put on the table. Mundy raised his eyes to the stage and Andy nodded to him while the patrons in the dining area were still applauding. 

When the applause passed, Mundy sighed. He took the spoon on the dessert plate and stared at the chocolate cake. It looked exactly the same but Mundy knew even before putting it in his mouth. It would taste and smell different now. 

The orchestra started a new piece, but Mundy wasn't listening. He would just eat the cake to honour the musicians' gift, and leave. He raised the bit of cake on his spoon to his mouth and as he ate it, a female voice made him almost choke on it.

{To the readers, the song is "Heartbreaker" by Dionne Warwick} 

"I got to say it and it's hard for me,

You got me crying like I thought I would never be, 

Love is believin', but you let me down,

How can I love you when you ain't around?"

Mundy raised his head to the stage. A middle-aged black female was singing. She was wearing a beige and golden top with long sleeves and a matching pair of trousers. 

"And I get to the morning and you never call,

Love should be everything or not at all,

And it don't matter whatever you do,

I made a life out of loving you!"

Mundy put a hand on his mouth. The words hit him. They hit him and they hurt. They hit him and they hurt so damn much.

"Only to find any dream that I follow is dying,

I'm crying in the rain,

I could be searching my world for a love everlasting,

Feeling no pain,

When will we meet again?"

Mundy thought the music wouldn't touch him, but it did. It broke him inside. He could feel it, burning like an ulcer but not just in his stomach. The pain was everywhere in his chest, in his stomach and in his head.

And it seemed to him that the words beat him up… 

"Why do you have to be a 

Heartbreaker?

Is it a lesson that I never knew?

Got to get out of the spell that I'm under

My love for you!"

They gathered in a circle around him and hit. 

"Suddenly, everything I ever wanted

Has passed me by

This world may end

Not you and I!"

Mundy lowered his head and hid his face in his hands, trying to protect it from the kicks and hits. 

"My love is stronger than the universe

My soul is crying for you, and that cannot

be reversed"

But they hurt. Mundy screwed his eyes shut and tensed up everywhere, as if contracting all his muscles would lessen the pain of every hit.

"Out of my mind, I am held by the power of you, love

Tell me then should I try?

Or should I say goodbye?"

The Aussie pushed his chair and left the place.

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy #SBT

[hysterialevi]

His Name Was Isaac - Ch. 14

Fanfic summary: During a mission to avenge his mother’s death, Isaac hunts down the men responsible for her murder and kills them off one-by-one, only to discover that his last target is taking refuge among the Van der Linde gang. In an attempt to kill them, Isaac attacks the gang and unknowingly becomes enemies with his own father, who is in the process of fighting his own battle for redemption.

Point of view: third-person

Previous chapter | Next chapter

This story is also on AO3

ONE WEEK LATER

BARROW LAGOON, AMBARINO

Steadily rowing the narrow boat back to shore, Isaac allowed himself to glide across the icy water as a series of ripples wobbled in the surface around him, causing broken plates of ice to shift to the sides.

He had just finished catching some fish in the snow-covered lake, and thanks to the peaceful nature of the wildlife in these parts, he also managed to pick a few herbs that might’ve helped with his father’s sickness. Isaac doubted they would do anything to cure him, but he just hoped they’d be able to tame his cough at the very least.

He had enough to worry about, after all. Between watching out for Pinkertons and looking after Arthur’s health, Isaac honestly didn’t care that much about reaching Canada for the time being.

Hell, he was willing to stay in The United States for another fifteen years if it meant his father could focus on recovering, but... knowing Arthur, Isaac doubted he’d able to convince the man to worry about his own well-being before his son’s.

That stubborn old man always seemed to attend to everyone else’s needs first. Isaac knew his father came from a place of compassion, but he just wished he could’ve done something to help him in return. A gun didn’t do much when it came to battling pestilence, and that was about the only thing Isaac knew how to use.

Part of him just wanted Arthur to return to civilization. He knew the man loathed being around places that were full of people, but they weren’t going to find a doctor anywhere else. 

Time was running out for the outlaw, and the last thing Isaac wanted was for that time to be wasted. He and Arthur may have argued sometimes, but the man was right about one thing. This was their only chance to make things right.

Letting the boat slide back onto dry land, the young man hopped out of his seat and lugged the sack of fish over his shoulder, slowly trudging through the crunchy snow as he made his way back to Arthur.

At the moment, the older man was looking after their horses just by the shoreline and had a fishing rod of his own cast in the lake, but it didn’t look like he had been able to catch much.

His nose was red from the cold, and judging by the pale tint of his skin and the dark circles surrounding his eyes, Isaac assumed his illness wasn’t getting any better.

He walked up to the man, trying his best to conceal the concerned expression on his face.

“Isaac,” Arthur greeted upon seeing the boy. “You’re back. Find anything?”

Isaac hurled the sack of fish onto the ground, showing him what he had caught.

“Got a couple of fish, but... it ain’t much. Hard to find any food in these parts.”

“Well, it’s still better than what I did. Good work, son.”

The boy strolled over to his horse, giving the animal a friendly pat on the neck.

“What ‘bout you, Dad? You have any luck?”

Arthur let out a chuckle, reeling the line in. “I’m afraid not. You know me, kiddo. I was never much of a fisherman. Though, I did manage to kill a rabbit earlier. Should keep us fed for a few days.”

Isaac grinned humorously. “Once we get to Canada, I’m never eatin’ fish or rabbit again. I’ve had enough of it for a lifetime.”

The other man returned the grin. “Try eatin’ it for thirty years. That was all our cook ever made for us. That, and venison. We rarely ate anything else. Just stew full of rabbit and deer bits.”

“And you wonder why everyone in your gang was always so cranky.”

Arthur paused for a moment, thinking back to his time with the gang. “...Hey, did I ever tell you about Hosea?”

Isaac shook his head. “No. Who is he?”

“Oh, he passed a few years ago,” he said regrettably, “but he and Dutch raised me together. They were practically brothers. Funnily enough though, Hosea was nothin’ like the old man. He was an outlaw same as the rest of us, but somehow, he always managed to be a gentleman about it. He was kind, but firm. Wild, but delicate.” 

A warm smile spread across Arthur’s face. “You remind me of him. I think Hosea would’ve liked you.”

“Yeah? You think so?”

“Sure. I imagine he’d wanna take you hunting or fishing. He always preferred the outdoors. Hell, he even took me to hunt a bear once.”

Isaac glanced at him incredulously. “Really?”

Arthur nodded. “Really. We dragged ourselves all the way from Valentine to the Grizzlies East just to find the damn thing.”

“Did you catch it?”

“Eventually. But it weren’t easy. The beast almost killed the old man. Luckily, I managed to shoo it away -- more by luck than anything -- and ended up huntin’ it on my own. Got me a pretty good sum. The trapper recognized the ugly bastard’s pelt the minute I dumped it in front of him.”

Isaac gave Arthur a playful smirk. “You ever gonna take me huntin’ for bear?”

The older man laughed. “Not a chance. You’d just scare it off.”

The two of them chortled at that and began packing their things up, preparing to continue their journey as the white sun inched across the sky. The weather was a little warmer today -- or at least warm by Ambarino’s standards -- and tiny droplets of water could be seen melting off of the numerous icicles hanging around the environment. Unfortunately for them though, the road ahead was still mostly obscured by thick layers of snow.

“Hey, Dad,” Isaac said, climbing on top of Aldo’s saddle. “I’ve been thinking...”

Arthur mounted his own horse, letting out a brief cough. “What’s on your mind, son?”

“Well,” the boy tapped his reins, riding alongside his father, “when all this is over -- if we actually manage to make it outta the country, that is -- I’ll have to find a new way to make a living. A new career. I can’t just be an outlaw forever.”

The older man let one of his arms dangle casually by his side. “No, I s’pose you can’t. You got any ideas on what you wanna do?”

Isaac nodded. “Yeah. I think... I think I wanna be a doctor.”

Admittedly, Arthur found himself surprised by the decision. He didn’t doubt his son’s capability, but the young man never really struck him as the medical type. He guessed his recent illness was impacting Isaac more than he realized.

“A doctor? You sure about that?”

“Maybe,” Isaac replied with a shrug. “I dunno. I just...” his eyes sank downward, “...I’m tired of hurtin’ people all the time. It’s all I seem to do. I feel like I can’t go one week without nearly killin’ somebody. I wanna start carin’ for people for a change. Save their lives instead of taking ‘em.”

Arthur smiled proudly. “That’s a real noble thing to do, Isaac. I think it’d be good for you. Heh. And you didn’t believe me when I said you wasn’t a killer.”

The boy’s mood didn’t seem to lift at the remark. “Maybe I ain’t a killer now, but I definitely was before I met you. If you had seen the way I killed Eli...”

The other man remembered the name. “Eli Whitley? He was one of Shay’s friends, wasn’t he? You never really told me what happened to him.”

“Yeah.” He confirmed. “Eli was there when mom died. I hated everyone in Shay’s gang with a passion after that, but Eli... I guess you could say he was the kindest in the group. He was the one who convinced everyone else to spare me when they woulda shot me. He’s the only reason Shay ever took me in.”

“But... that didn’t stop me from goin’ after him.” Isaac continued. “I cornered him outside of Rhodes just a few months before I got to Shay. Interrogated him at this abandoned barn. Didn’t let him die until he told me what I needed. He was probably the least deserving out of the entire gang, and yet... I killed him the slowest.”

Arthur sighed, speaking in a gentler tone. “...What’s wrong with you, Isaac?”

“I... I don’t know. But I wanna change. I don’t wanna be that kinda man anymore. That’s why I’m thinkin’ of being a doctor.”

The older man encouraged the idea. “Well, you’re a smart kid. And you’re still young. I think you could do it.”

“Well, it ain’t set in stone yet. It’s just a thought. For all I know, I could end up becoming a hillbilly granger somewhere. Spend all my days roastin’ under the sun. Scare away the occasional coyote. Yell at kids when they come wanderin’ too close to my property. Marry my cousin.”

Arthur chuckled. “Good to see your sense of humor ain’t run off. Maybe you could go into show business. Become a... performer or something.”

Isaac scoffed in an amused manner. “You really think I could be a performer?”

“Well... maybe not. But don’t limit yourself. Who knows? Maybe you’ll be in Broadway someday.”

The boy laughed. “I hope not. Have you met New Yorkers?”

Arthur nodded, thinking back to a certain stranger he met outside Strawberry. “Yes, actually. Yes, I have.”

He fell quiet for a second, suddenly remember something.

“Hey, Isaac. Before I forget, I just wanted to say, I’m--” a series of coughs interrupted him, “--I’m--”

Being cut off once again, Arthur brought a hand up to his mouth and did his best to overcome the sudden attack, only to feel his heart racing when he realized that it was getting worse.

His entire body shook in pain, and with every jagged cough that escaped him, the more he could feel his throat burning.

“Dad?” Isaac said in concern. “Are you okay?”

Arthur didn’t respond. Instead, he simply continued to cough into his hand, desperately trying to catch his breath. The edges of his vision were starting to grow fuzzy now, and despite his efforts to fight through it, Arthur’s strength began to drain from his body by the minute.

“...Isaac...” He wheezed, his voice raspy with irritation. “I...”

Without any warning, Arthur suddenly tilted off his saddle and collapsed to the ground, sending Isaac into a state of panic as he inspected his father’s unconscious body.

“Dad?!” He exclaimed, shaking the man by the shoulders. “Dad! Hey! Wake up!”

His voice began to echo in Arthur’s ears, fading along with everything else as the world turned black.

“...Wake up...!”

~~~~~~~~~~

A FEW HOURS LATER

NIGHTTIME

NEAR LAKE ISABELLA

Cold. Pain. Fear.

These were the only things Arthur could feel at the moment. The only things to greet him when he finally returned to consciousness.

The world around him was still dark, and without the sensation of a solid ground beneath him, he might’ve assumed he was dead.

As for his illness, Arthur could still feel it burning the insides of his chest. His throat was dry and sore, and due to the freezing wind embracing his body, it almost felt as if the breeze was carrying his life away with it.

But no... not yet. He couldn’t quit. He was still here. He was still alive. His body hadn’t given out just yet, and he still had to protect Isaac, no matter the cost.

He just didn’t know if he could anymore.

Waking up with a start, Arthur felt yet another chain of coughs rattle his chest as he forced his eyes open, sluggishly observing his new surroundings.

It looked like he had been moved to a shack somewhere in the middle of Ambarino’s mountains, and if it weren’t for the stiff bedroll lying underneath him, Arthur would’ve been sleeping directly on a fresh blanket of snow. 

There wasn’t much of a roof to shelter the shack’s interior from the weather outside, and with the sun now hiding behind the horizon, the night only seemed to grow colder.

Jesus Christ... what had he gotten himself into?

“Dad...?” A familiar voice whispered, drawing Arthur’s attention.

Slowly turning his head to the side, the older man spotted Isaac sitting in a corner of the shack with his rifle clutched tightly to his chest as he guarded his father, clearly anticipating some kind of threat.

His eyes were widened with anxiety, and the way he kept his voice low only heightened Arthur’s sense of fear.

What was going on?

“...Isaac,” Arthur said, barely able to speak at an audible volume. “Where... where are we...? What happened?”

“You had another coughin’ fit.” The boy explained. “You just... passed out. Right onto the road. You-- Jesus Christ, Dad... I thought you were dead. I tried to find you some shelter, but there ain’t much in these mountains. The best I could do was this rundown shack.”

Arthur tried to ease the young man’s nerves, not wanting to escalate things anymore. “It’s okay, Isaac. You did good. But... why d’you seem so afraid? What’s goin’ on?”

“I saw Dutch and his men on the way up here,” Isaac warned. “They were searchin’ the wilds. I think they’re looking for you. They didn’t seem to notice me, but... we have a trail leading directly to us. Dutch could be here at any minute.”

The older man cleared his throat, trying to ignore the pain. “...Shit. That man don’t give up easily. I’ll give him that.”

Isaac looked to his father for guidance. “So, what do we do? Should we just stay here for the night? Or keep moving? I mean, you’re in no condition to travel.”

“We need to get outta here.” Arthur concluded. “You said we have a trail leadin’ straight to us. If anyone finds that...” another cough escaped him.

The boy disagreed. “Don’t be ridiculous. You need to get some rest. Pushin’ yourself will only make things worse right now.”

“And if we stay, we risk Dutch findin’ us. Or even worse, the Pinkertons.”

“But you’re too weak!” Isaac argued. “And it’s the middle of the night. If we go back out there, we’ll freeze to death! It doesn’t--”

Interrupting the young man, an ominous thud suddenly emitted from the shack’s flimsy door, causing both of them to go silent.

Isaac instantly aimed his rifle at the entrance and cocked his weapon, standing directly in the middle of the shack due to a lack of cover.

There weren’t any voices talking at the moment, but underneath the loud howling of the wind and the creaking of wood, Isaac could hear a series of footsteps approaching them.

It sounded like they knew someone was inside based on the steady pace of their movements, and when Isaac glanced down at the crack underneath the door, he couldn’t help but notice an orange light seeping through the small gap.

Part of Isaac just wanted to shoot whoever was outside, but if it was Dutch like he suspected, then that meant his men must’ve been nearby. He couldn’t risk drawing their attention with any loud noises, and if a shootout were to ensue, there was no guarantee Arthur would be strong enough to fight through it.

He’d have to keep things quiet for now.

Swinging the door open with a light push, their unexpected visitor welcomed himself into the shack as a gust of wind breezed past him, chilling Arthur and Isaac to the bone.

The man was wrapped head-to-toe in winter clothing and had a revolver in one hand whilst holding a lantern with the other. His face didn’t strike Isaac as incredibly familiar, but upon seeing the pinned-up hat that he adorned, the boy instantly knew who it was.

“...Bill.” He murmured, watching the man’s every move. “You’re here.”

The other man’s eyes widened in recognition, causing him to raise his gun in alarm. “...Shit. So it really is you. I thought I saw someone out here.”

Isaac stepped protectively in front of Arthur, keeping his finger on the trigger.

“...What’re you doin’ here, Williamson?”

“What d’you think I’m doing? Lookin’ for your daddy, of course.” Bill’s gaze wandered over to Arthur, leading to a sudden shift in tone. “...What’s wrong with him?”

The boy tried to hide the fear in his voice. “He’s sick. With what, we don’t know. But... we think it’s the same thing Dutch has.”

Bill was quiet for a second.

“...Is he coughin’ a lot?”

“Yeah.”

“Is there blood?”

Isaac thought back to when Arthur passed out. “Sometimes.”

The other man sighed, his expression remaining flat. “Then it’s probably tuberculosis. At least, that’s what Dutch has, accordin’ to the doctor. He finally saw one the other day.”

The news hit Isaac like a bullet to the gut. He knew whatever Arthur had couldn’t be good, but he never expected it to be that bad.

“...Shit.” He cursed quietly. “That... explains a lot.”

Bringing his attention back to Bill, Isaac pushed his thoughts aside for the moment and strengthened his grip on the rifle, bracing himself for anything.

“Listen to me, Bill. I dunno what the hell Dutch wants, but you don’t have to do this. Just... walk away. Forget you ever saw us.”

The outlaw stood his ground. “And why should I? If I recall correctly, your daddy said he didn’t care about what happened to me the last time I saw him. So why should I care what happens to him now?”

“Because he’s my family. Wouldn’t you do the same for yours?”

Bill’s glowered at that. “I would, and I have. The gang was my family. I tried to help ‘em, but the only thing anyone ever did in return was ridicule me! Everyone always treated me like I was some... some idiot! A fool! A drunk! Dutch was the only one who ever treated me with respect. That’s why I gotta do this for him.”

Isaac felt a familiar sense of anger boiling inside him. “...You lay a single finger on my father, and I will kill you myself, Williamson.”

The veteran guffawed mockingly. “Oh, yeah, you’s real tough when you’re attackin’ our gang from the shadows. But you ain’t nothin’ compared to Dutch. And neither is your daddy. That man ain’t just strong. He’s caring. He’s the only reason our gang has survived for so long. He has something that the two of you never will. He has our loyalty.”

The boy almost laughed at the ludicrous statement. “Loyalty? Dutch doesn’t give a shit about you. Any of you. Look at how quickly he turned on my father. What makes you think you’re any different?”

Bill looked at him in bewilderment. “Dutch didn’t turn on your father. Arthur turned on him! Dutch... Dutch is a good man. He helps people. He helped me. When I was at my lowest point, he saved me while everyone else ignored me. He saw somethin’ special in me, and he gave me a new purpose in life. And I will never forget that.”

Isaac sighed in frustration. “You’re blinded by your loyalty, Bill. Dutch may have been a good man in the past, but he’s a tyrant now. A madman. Surely, even you can see that!”

The outlaw grumbled to himself, shaking his head in disagreement. “...You’re a real fool, Isaac. You know that? You kill a couple of our men, and suddenly, you think you’re an expert on our gang. You think you know a goddamn thing about us!”

“I know enough. I know that your gang is finished. I know that there’s no more trust between you. No more loyalty. You’re the only one in your gang who still believes in Dutch’s old rhetoric of a better world, and meanwhile, everyone else has given up on it. Hell, even Micah’s already betrayed you.”

Bill fell silent at that. “...What? What’re you talkin’ about?”

“How else do you think I was able to sneak into your camp?” Isaac pointed out. “How else could I have known about the bank robbery in Blackwater? Think about it, Bill. Your gang’s been fallin’ apart since before I even showed up. Only difference now is... there’s no chance of savin’ it.”

It was clear that the other man’s faith was crumbling at Isaac’s words, but he remained reluctant to admit it.

“No... no. That ain’t true! Dutch is special. He knows how to save people. He’ll get us outta this mess. He always does. And besides, I owe him everything after what he’s done for me. Without him, I’d be nothin’ but a big, dumb oaf. But Dutch... he’s a great man. And when I’m with him, I feel like I can be somebody.”

Isaac found himself at a loss for words, unsure of how he was going to convince Bill to walk away.

The last thing he wanted was to start a firefight in the middle of nowhere, but Bill was turning out to be far more obstinate than even Dutch himself.

The man seemed to idolize their gang’s leader. He still saw Dutch with the same image that he held eight years ago, and it looked like he wanted nothing more than to be like him.

But... there was more to Bill. Isaac could see it. Beneath all the anger and recklessness, the boy could sense that there was something pure at Williamson’s core.

It was clear that he still carried some wounds from the ridicule he endured in the past, but with enough encouragement, Isaac hoped he’d able to persuade Bill to overcome it.

If they were going to get out of Ambarino alive, they’d have to make sure that no one else found them. And right now, Bill was the only determining factor on whether or not that would happen.

Isaac didn’t want to take another life, but that sure as hell didn’t mean he wouldn’t.

“Y’know, Bill...” he said carefully, “I used to feel the same. Not too long ago, I used to believe that without my father, I’d be nothin’ more than a heartless killer. I saw him as somebody I wanted to be. Somebody who I needed to be. But you know what he told me?” 

Arthur perked his head up in interest, silently listening to Isaac from his bed as the boy spoke about him.

“He said that when all this is over, I ain’t gonna be like him. Or Dutch. Or Shay. Or even Micah. I’m gonna be my own man. A better man. And somethin’ tells me you can be, too.”

Bill softened his voice at the non-hostile approach, struggling to get his thoughts out. He hadn’t exactly reached a friendly disposition just yet, but his demeanor wasn’t nearly as aggressive as before.

“Them’s pretty words, Isaac...” he muttered quietly. “But how do I know you mean them? How do I know you ain’t just playin’ me for a fool like everyone else has?”

The young man clenched his jaw in nervousness, trying to steady his breath.

“...Because I’m tired of killin’ folk. I’m tired of always fearin’ for my life. If you lower your gun, I’m willin’ to lower mine.”

Bill glanced at Arthur. “And your daddy? He gonna let me go, too? Or is he gonna gimme the same treatment he gave Micah?”

“He ain’t gon’ do nothing. He doesn’t have the strength. Just walk out of here and pretend you never saw us. We’ll do the same.”

The outlaw hesitated for a minute, clearly torn by the dilemma. Despite his animosity towards Arthur, he seemed to have some sympathy for the man due to their history together. 

Their gang used to be like family after all, and as rotten as Williamson could’ve been sometimes, even he wasn’t so monstrous as to murder a boy and his dying father in cold blood. Not yet, anyway. 

A part of him actually believed what the young man said to him earlier, and if Isaac was telling the truth about Micah being a traitor, it was likely that the rat had spoken with the Pinkertons too. If that was the case, then their gang truly was finished.

Dutch may have been a fighter, but even he couldn’t work miracles. Bill would have to get out of this life as soon as possible if he wanted any hope of surviving, and perhaps this was his chance.

He finally lowered his gun, keeping an eye out for any sudden moves from the boy.

“...Goddammit, Isaac.” Bill muttered in annoyance. “Fine. I’ll let you go. This time.”

The young man slowly followed Bill’s actions, admittedly somewhat tentative to believe the outlaw.

“You will?”

“Yeah, but like I said, just this once. If Dutch or Micah find you again, I won’t be able to do anythin’ about that.”

Isaac felt a wave of relief wash over him, allowing him to relax a little.

“...Thank you, Bill.” He said sincerely. “You’re a good man. Or at least, a better man than you think.”

Bill didn’t crack his shell just yet, but Isaac could tell there was a sense of appreciation somewhere in him.

“Sure, Isaac.” He turned around and headed for the shack’s door, stopping in his tracks just before he left.

“Listen, there is somethin’ you should know. The truth is, Dutch doesn’t care about findin’ your father. It’s you he’s really after.”

Isaac raised a brow. “Why me?”

“Hell if I know. Dutch mostly shuts me out these days. Only Micah truly knows what he’s up to. Just... be careful around him. There’s no tellin’ what he has planned for the both of you. Especially after all the hell you’ve raised.”

The boy gave him a nod. “I’ll remember that. Oh, and Williamson?”

Bill looked over his shoulder. “What?”

“...Thank you again. I won’t forget this.”

The grumpy outlaw stepped back out into the snow, pulling his scarf over his nose as the night slowly came to an end.

“Don’t thank me yet.”

#red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #isaac morgan #bill williamson #dutch van der linde #micah bell #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 story

[rhub4rb]

Home is Where the Heart is

AO3

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-_-_-_-

It was eerily quiet when Alfred returned home from his errands. He had to cut his trip short due to the impending storm, that was now raging over Gotham.

"Marinette?" He called.

Silence.

His brows furrowed as he called again, "Marinette?" Only to get no answer in return.

Worry rooted itself in his stomach as he looked outside. Could the storm have triggered her hibernation early? Alfred didn't remember much of what Fu had told him about the various different side effects a miraculous holder could experience, but he remembered the Ladybug hibernating.

An urgency in his steps, he hurried to her designated room and knocked. Nothing. With his worry only growing, he opened her door expecting to find her fast asleep in a blanket cocoon and-

Nothing.

The clothes which she had borrowed was neatly folded on the bed, but besides that, there was nothing hinting that there had ever been someone residing in the room. His worry skyrocketed, and a seed of confusion planted itself in his mind. Where was she?

As fast as he could go without running, he went to the living room, then the library, and finally the kitchen. No sign of Marinette anywhere. She wasn't anywhere in the building, neither were her things.

No one else had been home until recently except for-

Damian.

With steps that could only be counted as marching, Alfred made his way to the only blood son of Bruce, not caring that his knocking was more like banging.

Out came a frazzled looking, recently showered Damian, scowl in place to reprimand anyone who would dare to bang on his door like that. The scowl disappeared however when it was Alfred that he saw, and not one of his brothers.

"Master Damian, care to explain where Marinette is?" His voice left no room for argument, though Alfred could clearly see an argument be made in Damian's mind.

"That menace went out. Something about a sketchbook, I didn't listen as I don't concern myself with her whereabouts. If you want to find her, I would go to Tim, he seems awfully chummy with her."

"So you wouldn't happen to know why all of her things are gone as well, would you Master Damian?" Alfred glared. "I think we are in need of a family meeting, don't you?" He didn't let Damian answer, just took him by the arm and dragged him toward the dining room, while he called for the rest of the family to meet..

Alfred ignored the curious glances toward Damian, depositing the boy in a chair and standing behind it, making sure Damian made no move to leave.

"Alfred? What's going on?" Bruce asked as he took a seat. The other three sons nodded, all taking a seat at the table.

"I was wondering if any of you knew anything about the current whereabouts of Marinette Wang?"

"Alfred, I already told you-"

"I don't care about the lie you're trying to convince yourself I would believe, what is worrying me is that Marinette is not inside while a storm is currently taking place," Alfred snapped.

That seemed to catch the attention of the rest of the family.

"Marinette isn't here?" Bruce asked.

"No, and the only person who had been here alone with her was Master Damian."

All eyes turned to the youngest son, who squirmed under the scrutiny.

"I didn't do anything to that pest!" Damian exclaimed, though he refused to meet anyone's gaze.

"Damian," Bruce barked. He had been aware that Damian didn't like the girl, but he didn't think Damian would actually do something to her. "What did you do?"

Damian tried to hold the facade, but the imploring glare that Bruce focused on him broke his reserve.

"I don't know where she is," Damian admitted. "I convinced her you had kicked her out." He said, looking at Bruce.

"What."

"You refused to do anything about her, so I took it into my own hands." For a moment, Alfred thought Bruce was going to hit his son, but it seemed he refrained. "I didn't know about the incoming storm. I don't know where she is."

There was a palpable silence in the dining room, no one moving nor saying anything. Alfred just wanted to find Marinette as soon as possible.

"I should be able to track her phone and find her location. Damian should call Jon and get him to help pick her up. It's too dangerous for us to go out with the weather like this."

Bruce didn't take his eyes off his youngest, just nodded his head to tell Tim to do it.

"Don't think you're off the hook for this," Bruce growled at Damian. "Once Marinette is found, I'll find a fitting punishment for this little stunt. For now, ask Jon if he can help find her."

-

It was cold, mind-numbingly so, Marinette's fingers twitching while the rest of her was shaking uncontrollably. She didn't even have the power to take out the horse miraculous and get away to somewhere warmer.

Marinette wasn't sure how she ended up in the abandoned apartment she had been sleeping in before, all that really registered in her mind was the fact that she was in some sort of cover from the storm. She wasn't surprised Bruce had ended up kicking her out, what with the way his son clearly didn't like her.

It wasn't like Bruce hadn't tried, he had let her grieve, had let her feel, but Marinette had felt more like a burden than anything else to that family. She hugged her backpack closer to her chest, Tikki blearily peeking out from it. She was tired too.

Marinette knew what was happening to her. It wasn't the first time she had hibernated, but it was the first time that it hit her this hard. Normally,  she walk around the entire day feeling weak and tired, and then she would fall asleep, only to wake up a couple of days later. It had terrified her parents the first time around.

Apparently, or at least according to Tikki, a Ladybug holder would spend the time they were hibernating to heal themselves. It was to give the holder a chance to rest, in mind, body, and soul.

Warmth filled her chest, like a blanket of protection was placed over her, and Marinette could feel the lids of her eyes weighing down on her. She wanted nothing more than to sleep even if it would be on the hard wooden floor, with the fake warmth that she knew wasn't really there, but she resisted.

It would be the first time she had hibernated outside of her home. Not that she would ever hibernate in her home back in Paris again, but the thought still sent a pang through her chest. The promise of being able to see everyone as she just closed her eyes was so tempting.

Her phone started vibrating violently in her pocket, demanding attention. With shaky hands, she pulled it out, just managing to answer, slowly putting it up to her ear.

"H-hello?" Her voice was meek, barely louder than a whisper. She could see her breath as she spoke.

"Marinette!" Jon's voice cut through, the complete opposite of her own, and filled with concern and worry. "I'm gonna come find you, okay? Just stay where you are, and I'll come get you!"

Without thinking, she slurred to him an address, as well as which window she had gotten in through. She was tired though.

"Jon... Jon, I'm... I'm gonna sleep now..."

"Wait, wait, Mari, stay awake! Stay awake for me okay, I'll be there soon, I promise. Just- just stay awake!"

"'m so tired..."

She didn't respond to the panicked yelling on the other end of the line.

-

Panic coursed through Jon as he flew through Gotham, heading towards the abandoned apartment complex where Marinette was. His mind was in disarray, thoughts centered around the blue-eyed girl, as well as his best friend who could possibly have doomed her.

Jon was angry at Damian, there was no doubt about that, but he couldn't focus on that right now. What he needed to focus on was finding Marinette who was probably freezing at this point.

He didn't want to think about the fact that she was probably unconscious by now.

When he found the window Marinette had told him she had gone through, he kicked the wood in, not caring about the loud noise. He faintly hoped it would wake Marinette up.

Frantically, he looked around, until he spotted her in the corner of the room, her backpack clutched tightly to her chest, glowing faintly red. Jon didn't give himself time to think about it though, just picked up the unconscious girl and hurried back to the manor.

Marinette was cold, her fingers and lips slightly blue. She wasn't shivering though.

The storm was still going strong, but Jon powered through it. When he had gotten the call from Damian that Marinette was out there somewhere, Jon's thoughts hadn't been on the storm, they had been on getting her somewhere safe, so that was what he was doing now.

The winds were cutting, the snow feeling like a thousand needle pricks, but he ignored it all in favor of getting Marinette somewhere safe as fast as possible.

She was wearing what she wore the first day he met her, black and red letterman jacket, black pants, and a redshirt. He didn't want to think about how she must have been walking in the storm wearing that.

Jon reached the manor, opening the doors and running inside, not caring about manners as he reached the living room.

"I found her," he breathed out. "She was unconscious when I got there though. I don't know for how long."

Alfred came up to him with hurried steps, and Jon almost wanted to protest when the girl was removed from his hold, but he stopped himself, knowing that Alfred knew what to do.

"We need to heat her up, slowly," his voice was shaking, his eyes trained on her backpack rather than the family he was talking to. "I fear that the damage has already been done, however." Alfred didn't give the chance to question his words as he wrapped the young girl up in a bundle of blankets and placed her in front of the fireplace.

The red glowing only grew stronger.

-_-_-_-

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