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genericpuff · 5 months

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The Extended Mishandling of LO's S3 Midseason Finale Premiere (Pt 2)

Alrighty, I promised a part two back in the first part of this analysis, but found myself busy with Rekindled and my day job, so I'm finally sitting down and finishing this up. If you haven't read that first part yet, please go check it out!

CAUTION: THERE BE FASTPASS SPOILERS AHEAD!

We left off with Hebe and Apollo roleplaying that one scene from The Lion King, albeit with a lot less sense or nuance. Literally all the "drama" so far feels purely manufactured for cheap plot progression and tension and it hardly feels authentic. But now we gotta talk about the second half of this episode, where we finally address the cliffhanger that the FP midseason finale episode left off on - Persephone causing winter.

And what better way to kick it off than with a completely off-base Persephone monologue?

Now, what's shown here is actually a flashback to the job interview scene from S1, when Persephone asked to see the snow in the Underworld. But it's written as if Persephone has some intimate relationship with snow as a whole, as if she's experienced more than this one time which... she hasn't. There was nothing "romantic" really about that scene following the job interview, she literally just wanted to go out and see something she hadn't seen before.

But that calls into question - why does Persephone constantly act like she has an intimate relationship with snow when it doesn't occur in the Mortal Realm? She even says in the honeymoon episode that it's hot all the time in the Mortal Realm, and the temperature only drops every now and then during rainy days... and she somehow makes this about Hades when it literally has nothing to do with him lmao Persephone monologues are some of the worst /r/im14andthisisdeep moments in the series because she's constantly using word salad to describe feelings we never saw or scenes that never happened.

And this scene is no different. She says that snow is something that's interwoven with her most 'treasured moments' but all the visuals have to show for is that one scene from S1 that, again, didn't even come across as a 'treasured moment', it was just her seeing the snow for the first time, there was nothing 'romantic' about it in a vacuum. All the moments from the series you could call ACTUALLY TREASURED milestones of Hades and Persephone's relationship - and Persephone's supposed "love" for the Underworld - are scenes where snow was completely absent (ex. the scene of Persephone and Hades talking about Sicily in Zeus and Hera's garden, Persephone and Hades spending the night in the cabin during the trial arc, etc.)

But then, to make it even more confusing, she goes on to describe her losing her powers and causing winter a "betrayal". As if the concept of winter owes her anything. As if Erebus owes her anything.

The allusion to Erebus itself in the visuals implies that she feels "betrayed" over this happening, as if it wasn't made ABUNDANTLY CLEAR TO HER that she would have to sacrifice something. She's gone SO LONG without knowing or caring about what she could have possibly given up, that by the time it finally revealed itself, she's acting all shocked Pikachu because there's finally something she can't just have. Everything that could make her seem imperfect has been washed away, from her SA trauma to those pesky green hands. Now we finally ARE seeing her affected by her own choices and she's basically waxing poetic about how sad it is that her actions have consequences.

That said, she does seem to have a moment of self-awareness here... but I can't be confident it will actually amount to anything seeing as how all the past attempts at 'growth' have been overshadowed by her vanity and ego.

This line is really confusing / weird in the way that it's written but I think she's trying to say that the source of the cold is from her, she can't pin it on any sort of 'big bad' like she could with Apollo and Kronos. It's just her.

And again, this could be a moment of realization for her that her actions are her own regardless of whatever she wants to pin it on-

But she rejects it instead. She's still not capable of acknowledging that her choices affect others, that her actions have consequences, that she's finally paying the price for something she knew had a cost.

If this were any other comic, I would accept her rejection of this, I would have confidence in knowing she may recognize it eventually. But this is LO and we're three seasons in, she's technically already gotten her happily ever after in the form of becoming Queen and married to her 'true love', so all of this feels like a very last-minute attempt to paint Persephone as this "struggling" character. But she's not "struggling", she's just finally experiencing karma catching up to her and as expected for a person like Persephone, she's already cracking under the pressure of realization that she can't have everything she wants.

Again, in any other comic, this would feel satisfying or endearing to see her fall on her own sword, but to me it just feels frustrating in the context of LO because we've spent five years seeing her get everything she wants with barely any real struggle that wasn't manufactured - with all of it painted as a GOOD THING - while still getting away with treating the people around her like shit.

And when I say she rejects this concept of having humility, I don't just mean through her monologuing, but also through her actions.

If I were to critique LO the same way I would an actual functional series, I would say that this should be the point of realization, the point where we see her crumble under the weight of her not being perfect, not being able to "fix" everything. It all stems back to her entitlement as a bratty main character, someone who can't fathom not being the main character or the "hero".

Because she's not the hero. Demeter is - or at least, she tries to be.

Again, it's hard to know if this is intentional or if this is yet another attempt to present Demeter as an "overbearing mom", but Persephone here looks and sounds like she's been reduced back to the state of a child crying for her mother in the face of her own failures. Despite now technically being a mother herself (through literal babynapping sigh) Persephone is still not a mature adult. Aging her up 10 years and giving her a husband and baby will not make her an actual functional independent adult who's capable of taking care of themselves or making the right decisions... unlike Demeter who is still, ultimately, more skilled than Persephone. She is an actual experienced and mature adult who's capable of rationalizing and decision making, and knowing when it's time to put aside your ego, walk away and let someone else who's far more qualified take care of things.

What Demeter has is something that one can only gain through true hardship, failing, learning from one's own mistakes, and experience, all of which Persephone does not have because she transitioned from a cage of her own imagination where hard work and responsibility was a virtue, into a gilded cage where true hard work can be passed onto someone else whose efforts she could take credit for while sitting on a throne and buying anything and everything she could ever want.

Despite everything Persephone and the narrative claims to have 'earned', she's still a child. The adults have to take over.

And like a child, she doesn't let them.

This is not an 'anime moment'. This is not a moment of redemption. This is immaturity and irresponsibility in its most visible form for Persephone - refusing to let go of her ego and shortcomings to "prove herself", even if it means making things worse.

And Hades enables it.

I want to make it clear there is a massive difference between not being controlling over someone, and actually enabling them.

This is not some small hill to die on. Persephone is literally causing winter, which could very well kill the Mortals. As we've seen in that prior Hebe scene from the first part of this essay, the snow is showing up in Olympus. This isn't something that's happening in the isolation of this single scene, this is happening everywhere and instead of taking the L, Persephone is trying to make things 'better' by simply 'trying harder' which is just not the solution here, Demeter knows this, but Hades is playing the "girlboss" version of a "good husband" by not even bothering to try and convince her to do otherwise. Hades above everyone else should be the one stepping in because he'd likely be the only one she'd actually listen to, but he's refusing to because he has to be the "good husband" who doesn't control the actions of his wife.

So he flat out enables her instead by not even bothering to try and reason with her, to help her see that what she's doing is not helping. Not even so much as a "Persephone, I know you want to help but it's clear something is wrong and if Demeter can figure out what to do to fix this, we should let her", just him saying to Demeter who wants to stop her that he can't stop her from trying... ignoring the fact that he should at least try.

And that's the difference between being controlling and being an enabler. He's not keeping her from doing something that benefits her and doesn't harm him or others. He's not micromanaging her decisions or trying to tell her she's not capable. Now, don't get me wrong, there are definitely things that make Hades a walking red flag especially when it comes to him being a groomer, but when it comes to directly controlling Persephone, most of the time she's doing things of her own accord convinced that it's "the right thing" (which is still just a side effect of the obvious grooming because I really doubt S1 Persephone would have done this shit lmao).

Here, he's not stepping in to even try to reason with her because "well I'd be a bad husband if I stepped in", completely ignoring the fact that it makes him a terrible person, period, to not at least try to calmly reason with his wife and explain to her that her 'help' is not going to help here. Just like when he rewarded her with sex for abusing a nymph in her own home, he's completely complacent to Persephone's actions and doesn't step in to try and help because, according to Wattpad and TikTok, a "good husband" is someone who looks the other way while his life partner does whatever she wants regardless of the consequences to herself and others. "Happy wife, happy life, who cares if the wife wants to be an actual piece of shit to people if it makes her happy".

And thus she makes things worse in her pursuit of "happiness", while Hades stands idly by, watching it all unfold as if he's just an innocent bystander who can absolve himself of any responsibility in this situation. As if she didn't become this way because she ate the pomegranate to be with him and a part of his world.

Now, there's one other sort-of-blatant smoking gun that I want to talk about that I haven't really seen anyone else mention since this episode went up. Granted, this might be me reading far too much into it, but hey, that's what this blog is for and I think it's something that absolutely needs to be mentioned.

Persephone goes on about how her powers aren't just gone, they've been replaced, all she can create is decay, and more specifically-

Now... think of the context of LO's narrative, what it's told us both literally and through subtext, intentional or not.

What does this sound like?

Hades lost his ability to produce children when he ate the pomegranate. He can no longer "create life".

And now, Persephone is finding herself in a similar situation, unable to "create life" the way she knows how. I'd like to think this isn't literal, but it really feels like there's a metaphorical implication here that Persephone losing her ability to create life is meant to be taken literally, that she not only can't create flowers and plant life anymore, but she's lost her fertility entirely. You can go even further back in this when it was established Persephone didn't eat six seeds, but nine, which originally felt like a weirdly random choice, but now seems intentional. I know some people have theorized that it has to do with her possibly being pregnant, but I don't think that's the case, I think it's the opposite - that the 9 months was a metaphor for the 9 months of childbearing that Persephone can no longer do.

And if that's the case... LO truly is no longer a "feminist" piece of work. It barely was before, but if the point of all this winds up being an attempt by Rachel to give Persephone a "flaw" by taking away her ability to bear children... that'll be a punch to the gut.

That said, if it does go somewhere, maybe the point will be Persephone learning she doesn't need to be able to reproduce to have value as a woman. But considering LO's track record with these sorts of plotlines, I can't be confident in the slightest that's where it'll end up. What I can be confident in is that Persephone will likely not stay this way. Like her green hands, she'll likely get her powers back, maybe after the resolution that she's still a real woman deserving of love even if she can't reproduce. I can't possibly know at this point where it's going, all I do know is that LO hasn't done a great job at resolving these sorts of deeper narratives so this just feels like another dart on the wall of bad ideas. Because it's, again, all being framed through Persephone being the "perfect woman", without there being any actual subtext throughout the narrative to imply that this may be a flawed ideology to have, it's just what Persephone has to be and it's sold in the narrative as a positive.

There's one term to describe this with that's rather consistent throughout LO when you peel back the layers of both the comic and Rachel's past work - white feminism. Despite LO's attempts to be "feminist", it's still ultimately being written through a heteronormative male gaze, that women are only "valuable" so long as they're youthful, that any goals or dreams a woman may have should be dropped as soon as they fall in love with a rich and powerful man, and that "other women" who don't fit into that mould of being rich, white, and heterocis are not worthy of love, empathy, or understanding. It's hard to trust that LO will actually challenge these norms when it's been practically enforcing them for five years.

But ultimately, that's a very loaded topic and right now, we don't know where this is going... I'm just not so sure I want to see it after all the missteps the series has pulled over the past half a decade. Like the miracle of childbirth, it's gonna take a miracle for LO to actually stick this landing.

Now, I'm assuming you read this line of dialogue, and you understood it. Yes? You positive? Okay, great. Why am I asking you this question as if you're an infant who doesn't understand what being "passed out" means? Well, you'll see what I mean in a minute.

Now, again, like with the whole "I can't bring life to anything anymore" thought process I just went through, I can't know exactly what they're trying to do here, but Demeter is fully in the right. I want to make that abundantly clear that Demeter was right the whole time and it's pretty telling that even a lot of the people reading the comic in good faith are pointing this out in the discussion circles they can actually access.

Now, in case anyone hasn't noticed, it's clear that Demeter herself is drawing upon the fertility magic of Gaia or Rachel is just alluding to Gaia for some reason. At first I thought it was supposed to be her form of "wrath" until I remembered that (unfortunately) Eris was the only reason for Persephone's wrath, so this is clearly meant to be some allusion to Gaia. Considering the fertility powers were passed down purely through Gaia and Ouranos, this means Demeter is a descendant of Gaia, which... calls into question Rachel's attempts to "remove the incest" from LO, but that's for another topic.

Either way, Demeter is fully in the right here. Hades is a fucking idiot - a useless lump - for not only enabling the shitty actions of his shitty wife, but for not taking even any amount of accountability for the fact that Persephone found out about the pomegranate through him.

"But Puff, she had to eat the pomegranate to beat Kronos!" Did she? Or was that purely manufactured for Rachel's sake because she just had to have an MCU Evil-Robot-Jeff-Bridges villain despite the fact that this FANTASY ROMANCE series didn't need one? The fact that it was written purely to 'force' Persephone into doing something she already wanted to do was completely redundant, it wasn't a 'sacrifice' she made, it was made pretty clear in Episode 165 that she wanted to eat the pomegranate as soon as she found out about it and while that decision is certainly her own, that does not absolve Hades of responsibility for not questioning his future wife's fascination with it or realizing that he unlocked the inner Pandora's Box of Persephone's mind.

And so, Demeter holds him responsible. As she should.

Okay, you read that, right? But remember that line I asked you about before? We should all know Demeter doesn't mean this literally. We have brains and we should all have a minimum amount of media literacy to understand that Hades was telling the truth when he literally said Persephone was "passed out".

We finish the episode on this panel, which I swear to christ I couldn't tell you in all of my own divine wisdom of the arts what in the world is going on in this panel. I'm literally looking at salad.

Is it Demeter and Persephone? Just some dying plants? I have no fucking clue, your guess is as good as mine.

But we're not done. Because we have one more glaring issue to talk about with this episode, and it comes in the form of an author's note that was inserted at the end of the episode. It is truly, despite EVERYTHING we've talked about in both parts of this analysis, the dumbest, most airheaded and egregiously pretentious thing I've seen in this entire episode.

Rachel quite literally put in a fucking disclaimer telling her audience what Hades already told us point blank in the comic - "Don't worry, audience members, Persephone is not literally dead, it's a metaphor for her spring powers being dead!"

I literally can't even express to you how pretentious and shitty this is of her to do. I can't tell if it's legitimately her thinking her writing is "too smart" for even her older audience members to grasp, or if she just wants to dispel the theories that people would want to make about this, or if she completely misconstrued the criticism about her writing not being "clear enough" and thinks that THIS is what people meant. Pardon my tone because I've kept it together relatively well throughout this post, but this is some 2009-era Fanfiction.net level of author's note bullshit.

If she thinks her writing is "too smart" for her audience to grasp, I'm sorry Rachel, but you're just wrong and this is incredibly shitty of you. You think the 14 year olds in your community aren't also reading other webtoons that have deeper writing than LO? I read Death Note when I was fucking 14 and I knew exactly the point of what the story was getting at by the time it was over, despite all the other stories I read at that age that completely flew over my head. And you think LO is somehow more complicated than Death Note, baby's first introduction to the grey areas of morality and justice?

If she's trying to dispel the theories... that actually holds some merit because not only is Rachel notoriously bad at not letting her fandom just talk about their theories without her swooping in to "um actually" them (even if it means killing the fun of theorizing), but the official FP page on FB was closed to new submissions in the hours following this episode and it since hasn't posted any new content. Is it because people aren't posting? Absolutely not. The mods are quite literally holding these posts hostage through the submission and approval system. People are legitimately trying to submit only for the mods to block it entirely from going through. If this is Rachel's attempts at trying to "protect herself" from the criticism this episode has surely earned, then all she's really doing is punishing her own fans who want to talk about it. It doesn't matter anymore that the discussion groups are finally back from 3-4 months of being shut down over the hiatus, they're still not being allowed to operate. The best there is now is the Discord and it's undoubtedly just as heavy moderated as the FB groups.

And as for the third possibility, this also feels like an attempt at Rachel trying to make her writing "more clear" without actually putting in the work of writing a good story. She's undoubtedly seen the criticisms towards LO as a whole that it doesn't express itself clearly, that it constantly flip flops on character motivations and information that has been established, and that any monologuing that's done implies things or events that we've never seen unfold on screen (case in point, the Persephone monologue from the start of this episode) but she seems to have either misconstrued or ignored the point of that criticism entirely by solving it with a quick and shitty author's note at the end explaining her intentions with a scene that was already clearly laid out to us. Instead of putting in the work to write a concise story to explain the things that are a bit more under-developed, she's slapping in a spoonfed explanation for scenes that literally don't need explaining and that ultimately cheapens the scenes that are TRYING to have impact, bringing them down to the same level of mediocrity as the scenes that never had the impact they intended to have to begin with. "You've killed the Goddess of Spring" was plenty clear after Hades said she was passed out, Rachel. Taking the time to explain it in a note at the end is just sad and it really goes to show what you think of your audience, especially when it comes to how you treat your fans in regards to community accessibility in the official discussion groups.

"The haters" didn't set this comic onto the path that it's on or ruin the fanbase experience, Rachel - you did.

#also i stg if she's just redoing the coma plotline from S2 #you can't just go to sleep and avoid the consequences of your actions persephone #wake tf up and take some goddamn accountability #lore olympus critical #lo critical #anti lore olympus

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cozy-mp3 · 1 year

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over and out

ellie x female!reader

being assigned night patrol sucks, ellie agrees

word count: 1.2k(ish)

warnings: sfw, probably an inaccurate depiction of how walkie talkies work, ellie calls reader honey because i'm predictable, men dni please and ty :)

a/n: tysm for 200 followers!!! i'm gonna open my requests up again soon as a thank you! this is my 'trying to grasp how to write ellie again' fic in between writing other stuff which is why it's short. also, i honestly do not know if this scenario is logistically possible but it is what it is.

you hate night watch at the best of times. it’s almost mind numbingly boring and since there’s so little to report you often find yourself alone until whoever is taking over your post for the first day shift arrives in the morning. it’s particularly bad in the winter due to the cold, the past few days had brought snow and you can feel it chilling your toes even though you’d tugged several pairs of socks on before you’d left home.

the sound of the radio crackling to life makes you jump after such a long stretch of silence, not even the sound of people stumbling out of the tipsy bison had interrupted the quiet this late at night, it’d been balanced in your lap beside your rifle which you decide to set on the ground beside you before you startle again and accidentally blow your foot off.

“this is williams to honey,” ellie says, her voice distorted over the radio but still warm and familiar, “this better be you, i’ve been hopping frequencies for the past fifteen minutes, maria’s gonna kill me when she finds out,” she adds and you can practically see her rolling her eyes, though you’re sure she won’t have the same bravado once maria’s done with her.

“how did you get hold of a radio?,” you ask in response, you should probably be frustrated with her, the radios are strictly for patrolling the walls and communicating potential danger and she’s absolutely going to get in trouble, but you can’t help but let a smile stretch across your lips at the sound of her voice.

“jesse owed me a favor,” she explains, only sounding a little sheepish about it, “i can’t sleep without you, this is totally necessary if they want me on patrol tomorrow,” she insists and really, it’s impossible to be mad when you feel the same way, even if it’s the kind of argument that maria will complain is making her go gray. you can imagine her tucked into bed, the duvet pulled beneath her chin and her cheek pressed into her pillow, the soft light of the lamp on the bedside table casting a warm yellow glow over her skin.

“i miss sleeping with you, too,” you sigh, it must come out crackly because ellie makes a frustrated sound and the radio beeps meaning the settings are being fiddled with, “don’t bother messing with it, el,” you hum and you’re pretty sure that comes out distorted by static too, but ellie seems resigned to it and doesn’t attempt to fix it again, instead producing shuffling sounds like she’s repositioning in bed.

“how much longer are you assigned nights?,” she asks and it’s a testament to how well you know her that you can imagine her face, her brows tugged together in a frown that wrinkles her forehead and her lips tugged downwards, you wish you were there to smooth the creases from her face and kiss away her pout, but you’re stuck in what you’re beginning to believe is the most uncomfortable lawn chair left in the world watching for infected that stumble too close to the walls, so none of that is possible.

“three more days, then i’ve got mornings for a month,” you tell her with an unhappy exhale that she mirrors, you could probably get your shifts changed if you kicked up enough of a fuss but it doesn’t feel right when you know everyone else hates the job as much as you, no one is particularly willing to switch to nights in summer, let alone now when it’s sub zero.

“this is, like, top five worst things that have ever happened to me,” ellie grumbles, her voice is even more muffled and you can imagine how she’s turned her face into her pillow to hide her frustrated face, “and don’t correct me on that, honey, i’m being serious,” she sighs and you wish you were there to tug her into your chest and stroke your hands through her hair because she sounds tired, exhausted even, and it’s almost torture to know there isn’t anything you can do to soothe her to sleep.

“you wanna talk until you fall asleep?,” you ask as gently as you can, hoping that your change in tone is noticeable over the radio, your toes are so cold you’re beginning to think they’re going to fall off before you’re able to get home and practice your current ritual of sticking them between ellie’s calves to steal her warmth for the hour or so you’re in bed together before she has to get up for patrol.

“please,” she responds, her tone matching yours all syrupy sweet and rough with sleep in a way that makes your stomach warm, “i’m hugging your pillow,” she admits quietly, “smells like you,” she adds and you don’t know if you want to beam or cry because there’s almost nothing you wouldn’t do to be there with her where it’s warm and safe and your girl is there to hold you instead.

“i’ll be back soon,” you say before you can say something embarrassing, like that you’ve been missing her every second you’ve been apart or that just tonight you’ve caught yourself daydreaming about her so many times you’d stopped counting, “only a couple more hours,” you murmur, glancing down at your watch to check again. ellie had gotten you new batteries for it the last time she’d been on a supply run and having it functional again was useful despite it giving you the ability to agonize over how slowly each minute of your watch seems to pass.

“i’ll stay up,” ellie replies with a firm edge to her voice that you know better than to argue with, though she yawns soon afterwards and you’re almost certain that she’ll be asleep when you arrive home. it’s not a problem though, it’s just as nice to curl up behind her when she’s sleeping as it is for her to tug you against her chest and rub your back until you fall asleep together.

“i love you,” you tell her, having to stifle your responding yawn against your palm.

“i love you too, honey,” she says and you can hear the smile in her voice, “make sure you’re safe walking home, ok? it’ll still be dark when they switch over,” she hums, her voice sounding a little closer, like she’s tucked the radio beside her in bed.

“i’ll be safe, els,” you reassure her and you will, because you know she worries and you don’t want to give her cause to worry more, “now, what do you want to talk about?,” you ask, tucking your chin into the warmth of your coat and pulling your rifle back into your lap as you settle in for the last stretch of your watch.

ellie’s already started talking about the deer she saw on patrol and the fancy charcoal pencils joel had gotten her from a trader. you wiggle your toes just to make sure they’re still there just as she begins to complain about how they’ve served broccoli for dinner for almost a week straight, which is bullshit because she’s seen carrots in the pantry with her own eyes and you hope selfishly that she doesn’t fall asleep too soon because the time passes so much faster when she’s there.

#ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #tlou2 x reader

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rising-volteccers · 12 days

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*agressivley slurps up the frozen wip through a silly straw* GOOD SHIT

You know what anon? Seeing this honestly sparked motivation that I ended up finishing the idea I have for [Frozen] so...

Series: Pokemon Horizons

Characters: Friede, Murdock, Liko, Roy

Part of my Status Effect series. I'll see if I have the motivation to do the caretaking part of this piece. Here's [Poison] if anyone wants to read that haha.

No one ever asked why Friede hated winter.

To be fair, even if someone did ask, he wasn't entirely sure what he’d say. Friede didn't exactly hate the season after all. How could he when it brought out a festive mood to the Brave Olivine? Where his crew brought out their scarves and jackets, sipping on Murdock’s special hot chocolate? Even the Pokemon that traveled with them for years understood the changing seasons meant special treats made to warm them up were given after dinnertime.

Friede didn't really hate winter. Not at all. It was the cold.

He hated the cold. Friede couldn't stand the way the cold air seeps down into his lungs, freezing him from the inside out. The chill always curled into the space around his heart, causing it to tighten with every breath he took.

He hated how keeping warm was an ongoing battle. It felt like he just couldn't stay warm during the winter months no matter what he tried. Layering jackets and scarves, cocooning himself into multiple blankets in bed–regardless of his efforts, the cold would still somehow find its way through into his bones.

By this point in their travels, his crew rarely bat an eyelash when he started complaining about the cold. They knew he disliked it, not that he hated it. Sometimes they do get annoyed when he whines a little too much, and when that happens he'd sequester himself within his room, wrapped in multiple blankets until he felt a little more like himself again.

Friede complained a lot because the alternative was to let the chill settle in, leaving him miserable with chattering teeth and hands shoved deep into his pockets. He didn't want to bring a dampened mood to the table, and he somewhat preferred annoyance to concern.

He knew it was by his own fault for not having the cleanest track record when it came to things that inconvenienced him. Friede kicked up a fuss for something minor like a cold but kept to himself when he sustained more serious injuries. It was just second nature for him to hide when vulnerable, as well as not worrying the people around him.

So Friede complained and whined so they don't see just how much he hated the cold. That it reminded him of long days within a dark, cold lab feeling numb. They just chalked it up to him being over dramatic, which suited him just fine.

When Liko and eventually Roy joined the crew, Friede slowly came to realize that these two looked up to him. It wasn't difficult to notice the way Roy hung on to his every word, or how Liko often turned to him for advice. With that realization came this want to be a good role model.

So Friede helped with their training, imparting knowledge and doing all that he could to help these two grow. This also meant conducting himself in a certain way, seeing that he didn't want them to pick up on any of his ‘bad’ habits.

When they eventually landed in a region deep into its winter months, he didn't complain about the cold. Friede simply found himself unable to in the first place, not when Roy expressed such wonder upon seeing light snow falling from the heavens. He didn't want to ruin it with his usual spiel, nor did he wish to break this strong, dependable image the kids had of him.

When it came time to explore the nearby town for supplies, Friede found himself trudging through ankle high snow alongside Liko, Roy and Murdock. He'd rather be back on the ship than out here but Murdock requested as many hands as possible to help carry the groceries he planned on buying. Orla had repairs she needed to do while Mollie went to check up on the Pokemon, leaving him and the kids as the only ones capable of assisting.

Sporting multiple layers to combat the cold, Friede stamped down on his mild jealousy of seeing Murdock and the kids dressing warmly with only an additional layer to their long sleeved clothes. He felt a bit stifled when moving about but the extra clothes kept him somewhat warm.

Friede remained at the back of their little group throughout their walk. Quietly, he observed Roy’s open awe, Liko's quiet wonder and Murdock's musings. He listened to idle conversations shared between the trio, about how Roy’s island didn't even really get snow while Liko only experienced light dusting of it when winter arrived. Their excitement was palpable enough to make him smile.

At some point, the group walked along an elevated path next to a frozen pond. From their position, they spotted various Ice-types by the pond’s edge, looking like they were moving towards the nearby forest.

Friede squinted his eyes to make out the exact Pokemon in the distance, leaving him half distracted. He didn't notice Fuecoco walking closer to the edge, prompting Roy to drift away from the group while Liko and Murdock were caught in a conversation.

The sudden yelp immediately drew his attention. Friede whirled around just in time to experience a mild heart attack when he saw Roy disappear over the edge. Everyone scrambled to where Roy fell, peering down to find that he and Fuecoco had slid down the (thankfully) short slope onto the frozen pond.

“Roy! Are you and Fuecoco alright?” Friede called out, eyes already seeking for a path that would bring them closer.

“Ow… yeah, we're fine!” Roy responded. He held tightly on Fuecoco when his gaze swept his surroundings.

“Alright we're heading down! Make your way over there!” Friede pointed to the closest edge where Roy could get back on solid land.

After Roy shakily got to his feet, all three of them quickly headed to the edge. Roy slowly shuffled his way over through slow, hesitant steps. He was about halfway across when he suddenly stopped, eyes widening.

“U-Uh. I think–I think I see cracks?”

“Keep moving Roy! Slow but steady!” Murdock’s voice encouraged the boy to continue but it was obvious how scared he was.

Without much thought, Friede stepped onto the frozen surface. Ignoring Murdock and Liko's surprised cries, his focus lay on getting to where Roy was. Seeing his approach granted the boy some much needed courage to keep moving.

When he got closer, that was when Friede spotted the cracks Roy mentioned. He didn't say anything, simply encouraging Roy until Friede managed to grab hold of his hand.

“C’mon, just a little bit more. Slow and steady.”

Roy gave a tiny nod. Together, the duo shuffled their way closer to the edge. By then Murdock had stepped onto the pond while Liko remained on solid ground. He had his arm outstretched, ready to grab hold and pull them towards safety.

Just when it seemed that they were in the homestretch, Friede's ears picked up on a terrifying noise. He couldn't help but look over his shoulder.

A large crack had formed, rapidly moving to their position.

His body simply moved on its own. Friede pulled Roy and Fuecoco close before shoving them towards Murdock’s outstretched arms. Another sharp crack sounded, followed by a litany of others. Friede looked up just in time to see the horror on everyone’s faces before the ice gave way, plunging him into dark waters.

The shock he experienced differed from Cap’s electrical ones; painful as can be but cold cold cold. Friede instinctively gasped, causing freezing water to fill his throat. Before panic truly seized him, he desperately kicked his legs, slowly propelling himself towards the hole he fell through.

Friede didn’t know who’s cry was louder; his or the kids when his head breached the water’s surface. He barely got a lungful of air before his head went back under again. With his eyes squeezed shut, it was pure instinct that pushed him to swim for the surface.

He managed to get his head out of the water again, fighting to keep the panic at bay. Each breath was wet and painful, like millions of needles prickling his lungs. The extra layers he wore to keep warm now acted as anchors that weighed his body down. The frantic yell of his name prompted Friede to seek for its source.

That was when he spotted Murdock, stripped of his outer jacket whilst on his hands and knees. It looked like he was slowly crawling to where he was at. His friend looked fearful but determined.

“Grab it!” Murdock shouted, holding onto one of his coat’s sleeves before flinging the rest towards his general direction. Understanding his intent, Friede shakily grabbed onto the other sleeve, holding on for dear life.

Murdock started to worm backwards, flat on his belly with one hand tightly gripping the sleeve. He was doing a valiant attempt of dragging him out of the water but every time Friede got his elbow up on the edge of the ice to pull himself out, the ice couldn’t support him and broke.

Each time he fell back into the water, it squeezed out the air in his lungs. His heart pounded faster than he thought possible but adrenaline was one hell of a drug. Still, the icy waters rapidly drained his energy. Friede knew that the moment he let up in his desperate attempts of getting out, that was it.

Murdock ended up crawling closer again. Friede wished he had the breath to tell him not to reach out himself; falling in along with him would defeat the purpose of trying to rescue him.

“Roll,” Murdock gasped instead. “I know you can do it Friede. Roll.”

Even as his senses were getting dull, Friede had enough mental clarity to understand what Murdock meant by that. He got a shaking arm out of the water, still holding tightly onto the coat with his other hand. Through harsh, irregular breaths, he gingerly placed his elbow on the jagged edge of the hole. He twisted his body inwards, getting his knee onto the edge as well. With one last burst of energy, he pulled himself out before rolling away from the hole. He rolled and rolled until he couldn’t move anymore.

As he laid there simply breathing, drenched and freezing cold, Murdock had wormed after him on his belly. Friede didn’t have anything left in him by the time Murdock hooked his hands underneath his armpits, pulling him away until they were presumably out of danger.

Murdock eventually fell back, gasping for breath himself from the exertion of saving his life. Liko and Roy frantically approached them moments later.

“Friede, are you alright?” Liko asked first. He didn't have to look at her to know that she was scared.

“F-Friede I'm so sorry because of m-me…” Roy sounded like he was moments away from bursting into tears.

“H-Hey it's fi–” Whatever assurance he wanted to give evaporated the moment he tried to turn onto his side, coughing out the water he inhaled during his struggle. Odd how he’d be freezing but feel like his lungs were burning.

Hands quickly settled on his back for support, and it was those same hands that helped him sit up. Friede ended up slumping against Murdock's side, too drained to be of much help.

“S-S-Sorry ‘bout g-getting you w-wet,” he spoke through chattering teeth. Feeling the way his hair plastered over his face, it wouldn't surprise him if a layer of frost had formed already. Friede certainly felt more ice than human by this point.

“That's the least of your worries. C’mon, we gotta get you back to the ship.” Thankfully, Murdock took charge of the situation. Friede didn't have the capacity to assure Liko and Roy right now.

Before Murdock lifted him to his feet, Friede shakily put on the damp jacket Murdock used to pull him out. He couldn't protest when Liko wrapped her and Roy’s scarves around his neck. They couldn't remove his soaked clothes right now so the best they could do was put more layers on him.

“You have Charizard's Pokeball on you?” Murdock asked.

Right, he did have it. Charizard would be able to provide some much needed warmth. Friede tried to reach for the Pokeball clipped to his belt but his fingers refused to cooperate.

Liko noticed his struggles so she leaned in to carefully grab the Pokeball, uttering a soft apology for encroaching on his personal space like this. She swiftly released Charizard from its Pokeball.

His partner immediately zeroed in on him. It growled softly, quickly going to his side, eyes shifting between Friede and Murdock.

“We need to get him back to the ship. Can you stick close to his side for some warmth?”

Charizard grunted once. It opened up one wing to partially cover Murdock and Friede, somewhat shielding them from the light breeze blowing past. Flying directly on Charizard would be the faster option but Friede barely had any strength for even walking, let alone holding onto Charizard through the flight. This was the best option they had at the moment.

“Liko, Roy can you head back to the ship first and let Mollie know what happened? Contact her on the way back and help her with anything she needs.”

“Okay!” The kids quickly set off to do just that.

“I think it's better if I carry you on my back. Do you think you can hold on?”

Friede's teeth chattered too much for a verbal reply so instead, he gave the tiniest of nods. With Charizard's help, he got on Murdock's back, arms loosely wrapped around his friend's neck. Murdock kept him secured by holding onto his legs.

By the time Murdock began the journey back to the ship, Friede's eyes slid shut. Vaguely, he recalled Mollie’s words on how dangerous it was to fall asleep when freezing cold. He did his best to stay awake but he had no energy left in the tank.

Friede drifted off in the cold he hated, unaware of Murdock's increasingly frantic calls and Charizard's growls.

#Pokemon #Pokemon Horizons #Professor Friede #Murdock (Pokemon)#Liko (Pokemon)#Roy (Pokemon)#Hana writes stuff #First completed piece of the year and it only took 4 months kajhdka #I warred between realism and just maximizing h/c so if it feels awkward it's cause I gave up at some point

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shnargo · 1 year

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(un)lucky? | pigeonholed (pt.1)

pairings: ethan winters x cadou-ified!reader (more on that later lol) warnings: mild descriptions of violence & gore (it is RE8 after all) word count: 759 a/n: so i'm in the process of writing this and frankly have no idea how long this might end up because i decided to begin it on a whim. i have a general idea of following the canon plotline for this series, but i'm open to suggestions and ideas to add :)

Its skull all but burst when he unloaded his last bullet into the lycan's head, splattering rotted brain bits and blackened blood all over his hoodie and tan jacket. Disgust sounded in his throat as he wiped as much of it off as he could. You’d think the horror show that was Dulvey, Louisiana was enough trauma for a lifetime, several lifetimes frankly, but the universe had other plans it seemed. So here he was, knee deep in snow, rubble, and miscellaneous gore in the middle of a forest somewhere in Eastern Europe. A shuffling noise sounded around the corner, and he tried not to voice his disdain as he pulled out his knife. Maybe he could get the upper hand on this one if he could sneak up behind it—

A bird. No, not like the crows that cawed at him incessantly when he was walking through the trees, it was a pigeon that was wrapped up in netting, laying pitifully on the floor. It looked like any sky rat he’d seen in the cities, with a checkered pattern on its wings and its dilated eyes. Somehow it hadn’t caught any adverse attention despite its flapping around in its attempt to escape from its netted demise. While it could have been a trap, he honestly just felt bad for it. It frankly looked like it hadn’t the slightest clue of what was going around it, or really of anything at all. He sighed.

“Hey little guy, need some help?” He knelt over the bird, and it paused in its escape attempt as if acknowledging his voice. However, it soon went wobbling around till it flopped onto its backside. Humor tugged at his lips at how out of place the poor thing was, and he reached down and gently grabbed the net to not startle it. “I’m gonna cut you free, buddy. Try to keep still.” It almost seemed to listen, pausing again, but maybe it recognized the danger of a knife as he went about cutting the bird free. As soon as he pulled the knife away once he was finished, the pigeon jostled about, basically kicking the net off before giving it as much of a stink eye as a bird could before tilting its head at him in classic fashion. “There you are. You’d better be more careful next time, huh?” It cooed back in response, before turning around and walking off… straight into the door of a nearby building. He stared at it, stunned, and he couldn’t keep from barking out a laugh as the bird fell to the side in a daze.

“What did I just say, bud?” Other than a light nudge of his hand, he did little to help the little guy back up as it came to its senses before flying off. He noticed a little falter in its flight pattern though, some of its feathers were clipped. He had his doubts that the bird would survive, but really he could say the same for himself. He entered the building the bird stumbled into and to his relief, found a generous heap of bullets. Maybe he’d be just fine for a little while longer, and who knows? Maybe he’d come across that silly little pigeon again elsewhere too.

You could feel the heat fluttering in your chest as your wings just barely managed to allow you to find purchase on a sturdy enough branch. He was an outsider. Mother Miranda always warned you against straying too far, but your curiosity couldn’t be contained. So naturally, she clipped your wings. Luckily (or unluckily?) that resulted in your unfortunate entanglement with that despicable netting, but led to you meeting him. Him. His hands were warm, radiating heat as he helped you to freedom. Strangers weren’t nice, they weren’t supposed to be! So why did he go out of his way to help you? He could have left you for dead, well, to lay in the snow for a few more hours at least. But he helped you. He looked at you with nothing but mirth and kindness in those mesmerizing eyes of his... He even called you a friend, his buddy! That’s why you directed him towards extra supplies in the house, playing dumb so he wouldn’t catch on— but also because you lost your footing after laying about for so long. The wind whistled, sending a cold chill through your feathers, but you allowed it to lead you off the tree and lend some guidance towards the castle. There was a family meeting today, you were certain, and maybe you could help him just a little bit more.

#ethan winters x reader #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #ethan winters #ethan winters fanfic #ethan winters imagine #re8 fanfiction #re8

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thewidowsghost · 9 months

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Seeing the Beauty (Piper McLean x Fem!Jackson!Reader) - Chapter 11

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

They continue to fly west and Jason becomes lost in his thoughts – all of them bad. He isn't sure how much time passes before the dragon dives through a break in the clouds, and below them, glittering in the winter sun, is a sixty at the edge of a massive lake. A crescent of skyscrapers line the shore. Behind them, stretching out to the western horizon, is a vast grid of snow-covered neighborhoods and roads.

"Chicago," (Y/n) says.

Jason thinks about what Hera had said in his dream. His most mortal enemy is waiting here. If I'm to die, it will be by her hand.

"One problem down," Leo says. "We got here alive. Now, how do we find the storm spirits?"

Jason sees a flash of movement below them. At first, he thinks it's just a small plane, but it's too small, too dark, and too fast. The thing spirals towards the skyscrapers, weaving and changing shape – and, just for a moment, it becomes the smokey figure of a horse.

"How about we follow that one," Jason suggests, "and see where it goes?"

Jason is afraid they'd lose their target. The ventus moves like . . . well, like the wind. "Speed up!" he urges.

"Bro," Leo said, "if I get any closer, he'll spot us. Bronze dragon ain't exactly a stealth plane." (Y/n) laughs.

"Slowdown!" Piper yelps.

The storm spirit dives into the grid of downtown streets. Festus tries to follow, but his wingspan is way too wide. His left wing clips the edge of a building, slicing off a stone gargoyle before Leo pulls up.

"Get above the buildings," Jason suggests. "We'll track him from there."

"You want to drive this thing?" Leo grumbles, but he does what Jason asks.

After a few minutes, Jason spots the storm spirit again, zipping through the streets with no apparent purpose — blowing over pedestrians, ruffling flags, making cars swerve.

"Oh great," Piper says. "There're two."

She's right. A second ventus blasts around the corner of the Renaissance Hotel and links up with the first. They weave together in a chaotic dance, shooting to the top of a skyscraper, bending a radio tower, and diving back down towards the street.

"Those guys do not need any more caffeine," Leo says.

"You could say they had a large," (Y/n) grins stupidly at her joke.

"I guess Chicago's a good place to hang out," Piper said, glancing back at (Y/n) and rolling her eyes teasingly. "Nobody's going to question a couple more evil winds."

"More than a couple," Jason said. "Look."

The dragon circles over a wide avenue next to a lake-side park. Storm spirits are converging — at least a dozen of them, whirling around a big public art installation.

"Which one do you think is Dylan?" Leo asks. "I wanna throw something at him."

But Jason is focused on the art installation. The closer they get to it, the faster his heart beats. It's just a public fountain, but it is unpleasantly familiar. Two five-story monoliths rise from either end of a long granite reflecting pool. The monoliths seem to be built of video screens, flashing the combined image of a giant face that spews water into the pool.

Maybe it's just a coincidence, but it looks like a high-tech, super-size version of that ruined reflecting pool Jason and (Y/n) has seen in their dreams, with the two dark masses jutting from either end. As Jason watches, the image on the screens changes to a woman's face with her eyes closed.

"Leo . . ." Jason says nervously.

"I see her," Leo replies. "I don't like her, but I see her."

Then the screens go dark. The venti swirl together into a single funnel cloud and skitter across the fountain, kicking up a waterspout almost as high as the monoliths. They get to its center, pop off a drain cover, and disappear underground.

"Did they just go down a drain?" Piper questions. "How are we supposed to follow them?"

"Maybe we shouldn't," Leo says. "That fountain thing is giving me seriously bad vibes. And aren't we supposed to, like, beware the earth?"

(Y/n) feels the same way, but they have to follow. It is their only way forward. They had to find Hera, and they now only have two days until the solstice.

"Put us down in that park," (Y/n) suggests. "We'll check it out on foot."

Festus lands in an open area between the lake and the skyline. The signs say Grant Park, and Jason imagines it would've been a nice place in the summer. The dragon's hot metal feet hiss as they touch down. Festus flaps his wings unhappily and shoots fire into the sky, but there was no one around to notice. The wind coming off the lake is bitter cold. Anyone with sense would be inside. Jason's eyes sting so badly, he can barely see.

They dismount , and Festus the dragon stomps his feet. One of his ruby eyes flickers, so it looks like he is blinking.

"Is that normal?" Jason asks.

Leo pulls a rubber mallet from his tool bag. He whacks the dragon's bad eye, and the light goes back to normal. "Yes," Leo says. "Festus can't hang around here, though, in the middle of the park. They'll arrest him for loitering. Maybe if I had a dog whistle . . ." He rummages in his tool belt, but comes up with nothing. "Too speciallized?" he guesses. "Okay, give me a safety whistle. They got that in lots of machine shops."

This time, Leo pulls out a big plastic orange whistle. "Coach Hedge would be jealous! Okay, Festus, listen." Leo blew the whistle. The shrill sound probably rolls all the way across Lake Michigan. "You hear that, come find me, okay? Until then, you fly wherever you want. Just try not to barbecue any pedestrians."

The dragon snorts — hopefully in agreement, (Y/n) thinks. Then he spreads his wings and launches into the air.

Piper took one step and winces. "Ah!"

"You're ankle?" Jason felt bad he'd forgotten about her injury back in the Cyclops factory. "That nectar we gave you might be wearing off."

"It's fine." Piper shivers; she took a few more steps with only a slight limp, but (Y/n) can tell she is trying not to grimace.

"Let's get out of the wind," (Y/n) suggests gently.

"Down a drain?" Piper shudders. "Sounds cozy."

They wrap themselves up as best as they can and head towards the fountain.

The four step into the center of the pool. The drain hole is easily big enough for a person, and a maintenance ladder leads down into the gloom.

(Y/n) goes first. As she climbs, she braces herself for horrible sewer smells, but it isn't that bad. The ladder drops into a brickwork tunnel running north to south. The air is warm and dry, with only a trickle of water on the floor.

Piper, Jason, and Leo climb down after her.

"Are all sewers this nice?" Piper wonders.

"No," Leo says. "Trust me."

Jason frowns. "How do you know —"

"Hey, man, I ran away six times. I've slept in some weird places, okay? Now, which way do we go?"

Jason tilts his head, listening, then points south. "That way."

"How can you be sure?" Piper asks.

"There's a draft blowing south," Jason says. "Maybe the venti went with the flow."

It isn't much of a lead, but nobody offers anything better.

As soon as they start walking, Piper stumbles, and (Y/n) catches her. "Stupid ankle," Piper curses.

"Let's rest," Jason decides. "We could all use it. We've been going nonstop for over a day. Leo, can you pull any food from that tool belt besides breath mints?"

"Thought you'd never ask. Chef Leo is on it!"

Piper, (Y/n), and Jason sit on a brick ledge while Leo shuffles through his pack.

"It's not your fault," Piper tells Jason.

He looks at her blankly. "What?"

"Getting jumped by the Cyclopes," she says. "It wasn't your fault."

He looks down at the coin in his palm. "I was stupid. I left you alone and walked into a trap. I should've known . . ." He doesn't finish.

"Hey." Piper nudged his arm. "Cut yourself some slack. Just because you're the son of Zeus doesn't mean you're a one-man army."

A few feet away, Leo lights a small cooking fire. He hummed as he pulled supplies out of his pack and his tool belt.

In the firelight, Piper's eyes seemed to dance. (Y/n) had been studying them for days now, and she still can't decide what color they were. She'd gone with kaleidoscope.

Jason glances between Piper and (Y/n), and then he gets to his feet, walking over to Leo.

"I'm sorry," (Y/n) turns to meet Piper's gaze.

"For what?" Piper looks bewildered.

"I know this must suck for you," (Y/n) replies. She sighs softly before she continues. "Not just the quest, I mean. The way I just appeared on that bus and the Mist messing with your mind." She pulls Tsunami out of her pocket, fiddling with the pen.

Piper drops her gaze. "Yeah, well. None of us asked for this. It's not your fault." She tugs at the little braids on each side of her head. With the makeup and the dress and the perfect hair, she'd looked beautiful with the blessing of Aphrodite. But, (Y/n) argues with herself, she looks more beautiful now.

Before (Y/n) can say anything, however, Leo announces, "And bingo!" He and Jason come over with four plates. (Y/n) has no idea where Leo had gotten all the food, or how he'd put it together so fast, but it looks amazing: pepper and beef tacos with chips and salsa.

"Leo," Piper says in amazement. "How did you —?"

"Chef Leo's Taco Garage is fixing you up!" he says proudly. "And by the way, it's tofu, not beef, beauty queen, so don't freak. Just dig in!"

. . .

After Piper eats, (Y/n) encourages her to get some sleep. Without another word, she curls up and puts her head in (Y/n)'s lap. In two seconds, she's snoring.

(Y/n) looks up at Jason and Leo, who are obviously trying not to laugh.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, drinking lemonade Leo had made from canteen water and powdered mix.

"Good, huh?" Leo grins.

"You should start a stand," Jason says. "Make some serious coin." But as he stares at the embers of the fire, something begins to bother him. "Leo . . . about this fire stuff you can do . . . is it true?"

Leo's smile falters. "Yeah, well..." He opens his hand. A small ball of flame bursts to life, dancing across his palm.

"That is so cool," Jason says. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Leo closes his hand and the fire went out. "Didn't want to look like a freak."

"I have lightning and wind powers," Jason reminded him. "Piper can turn beautiful and charm people into giving her BMWs. (Y/n) can talk to horses and survive landing in water from hundreds of feet in the air. You're no more a freak than we are. And, hey, maybe you can fly, too. Like jump off a building and yell, 'Flame on!"'

Leo snorts. "If I did that, you would see a flaming kid falling to his death, and I would be yelling something a little stronger than 'Flame on!' Trust me, Hephaestus cabin doesn't see fire powers as cool. Nyssa told me they're super rare. When a demigod like me comes around, bad things happen. Really bad."

"Maybe it's the other way around," (Y/n) offers, meeting Leo's gaze. "Maybe people with special gifts show up when bad things are happening because that's when they're needed most."

Leo clears out the plates. "Maybe. But I'm telling you . . . it's not always a gift."

(Y/n) and Jason fall silent. "You're talking about your mom, aren't you?" Jason asks. "The night that she died?"

Leo doesn't answer. He doesn't have to. The fact that he's quiet – not joking around, tells (Y/n) and Jason enough.

"Leo, her death wasn't your fault. Whatever happened that night — it wasn't because you could summon fire. This Dirt Woman, whoever she is, has been trying to ruin you for years, mess up your confidence, take away everything you care about. She's trying to make you feel like a failure. You're not. You're important."

"That's what she said." Leo looks up, his eyes full of pain. "She said I was meant to do something important — something that would make or break that big prophecy about the seven demigods. That's what scares me. I don't know if I'm up to it." Leo pokes at the remnants of his fire, turning over red-hot coals with his bare hand. "You ever wonder about the other three demigods? I mean . . . if we're four of the ones from the Great Prophecy, who are the others? Where are they?"

(Y/n) sighs, glancing down, seemingly just now noticing she'd been running her fingers subconsciously through Piper's hair. "I -" she pauses, looking back up to see Leo and Jason watching her closely. "I don't think I'm part of the main prophecy." Both Jason and Leo's eyebrows knit with concern. "Rachel mentioned another prophecy to me the night of the campfire – Child of the Sea will accompany the Seven. And drop into endless darkness."

"It can't be you though," Leo says. "They're might be another –" but then he falters, for there's no one else it could be.

And the only thing that either Jason or Leo thought 'dropping into endless darkness' could possibly mean, would be death.

(Y/n) had unconsciously stopped running her fingers through Piper's hair, and Piper had let out a sleepy murmur of annoyance, snuggling deeper into (Y/n)'s lap.

"You guys get some sleep," (Y/n) says. "I'll take first watch."

Jason and Leo exchange uncertain looks, neither wanting to let their friend stay up alone to think about her own fate, but they finally give in.

(Y/n) leans forward slightly, pulling off her jacket. She throws it over Piper's sleeping form before she allows her head to fall against one of the walls, falling deep into another surfacing memory.

Annabeth, (Y/n), and Percy stand at the top of Half-Blood Hill. They watch the buses and vans pull away, taking most of the campers back to the mortal world. A few old-timers would be staying behind – and a few of the newcomers – but (Y/n) and Percy were heading back to Goode High School for their sophomore year.

Then (Y/n)'s gaze falls on Rachel Elizabeth Dare, who was walking up the hill towards the trio. "Good-bye," Rachel says as she shoulders her bag. She looks nervous, but she's keeping her promise to her father and attending Clarion Academy in New Hampshire.

"You'll do great." Annabeth hugs her.

Rachel bites her lip. "I hope you're right. I'm a little worried. What if somebody asks what's on the next math test and I start spouting a prophecy in the middle of geometry class? The Pythagorean theorem shall be problem two. . . . Gods, that would be embarrassing."

Annabeth laughs, and to (Y/n)'s relief, it makes Rachel smile.

(Y/n) meets Rachel's gaze; Annabeth notices, taking Percy's hand and pulls the Son of Poseidon down the hill.

Both (Y/n) and Rachel sit down, and Rachel automatically starts drawing on (Y/n)'s arm with a pen.

"I'm going to miss you," Rachel says, focusing on her drawing.

"I - me too," (Y/n) replies, pulling Tsunami out of her pocket and fiddling with the pen with her free hand.

Rachel looks up from her drawing. "I'm sorry I didn't talk to you about it before. The Oracle stuff."

"I was upset at first," (Y/n) admits. "But I also knew that it was something you had to do. There's nothing you have to apologize for."

Rachel smiles at (Y/n), "Friends?"

"Friends." (Y/n) replies, smiling in return.

Someone shaking her arm jostles (Y/n) out of the memory.

"Are you okay?" Piper blinks sleepily, looking up into (Y/n)'s face.

"I - yeah," (Y/n) replies.

Piper yawns, moving out of (Y/n)'s lap to sit beside her against the wall.

"Piper," (Y/n) begins, and the daughter of Aphrodite looks over at her. "Is your dad in some sort of trouble?"

Piper stares at her for a moment; she takes a shaky breath. "(Y/n) . . . I can't talk about it."

"We're your friends. Let us help."

This seems to make her feel worse. "I wish I could, but –" Jason and Leo had stirred awake, and Piper quickly stops talking.

(Y/n) keeps a careful watch on Piper as the four demigods break camp.

Piper is grateful for (Y/n)'s silent support on her left as they start down the tunnel. It twists and turns and seems to go on forever. Piper isn't sure what to expect at the end – a dungeon, a mad scientist's lab, or maybe a sewer reservoir where all Porta-Potty sludge ends up, forming an evil toilet face large enough to swallow the world.

Instead, they find polished steel elevator doors, each one engraved with a cursive letter M. Next to the elevator is a directory, like for a department store.

"M for Macy's?" Piper wonders aloud. "I think they have one in downtown Chicago."

"Or Monocle Motors still?" Leo says. "Guys, read the directory. It's messed up."

Parking, Kennels, Main Entrance: Sewer Level; Furnishings and Cafe M: 1; Women's Fashion and Magical Appliances: 2; Men's Wear and Weaponry: 3; Cosmetics, Potions, Poisons & Sundries: 4

"Kennels for what?" Piper says. "And what kind of department store has its entrance in a sewer?"

"Or sells poisons," Leo adds. "Man, what does sundries even mean? Is that like underwear."

(Y/n) grabs hold of her pen in her pocket.

Jason takes a deep breath. "When in doubt, start at the top."

. . .

The doors slide open on the fourth floor, and the scent of perfume waft into the elevator. (Y/n) and Jason step out first, swords ready.

"Guys," Jason says. "You've got to see this."

Piper joins them and catches her breath. "This is not Macy's."

The department store looks like the inside of a kaleidoscope. The entire ceiling is a stained glass mosaic with astrological signs around a giant sun. The daylight streaming through it washes everything in a thousand different colors. The upper floors make a ring of balconies around a huge central atrium, so they can see all the way down to the ground floor. Gold railings glitter so brightly, they are hard to look at.

Aside from the stained glass ceiling and the elevator, Jason can't see any other windows or doors, but two sets of glass escalators run between the levels. The carpeting is a riot of oriental patterns and colors, and the racks of merchandise are just as bizarre. There are too much to take it at once, but Jason sees normal stuff like shirt racks and shoe trees mixed in with armored manikins, beds of nails, and fur coats that seem to be moving.

Leo steps to the railing and looks down. "Check it out."

In the middle of the atrium a fountain sprays water twenty feet into the air, changing color from red to yellow to blue. The pool glitters with gold coins, and on either side of the fountain stands a gilded cage — like an oversized canary cage.

Inside one, a miniature hurricane swirls, and lightning flashes. Somebody had imprisoned the storm spirits, and the cage shudders as they try to get out. In the other, frozen like a statue, is a short, buff satyr, holding a tree-branch club.

"Coach Hedge!" Piper says. "We've got to get down there."

A voice replies, "May I help you find something?"

All four of them jump back.

A woman had just appeared in front of them. She is wearing an elegant black dress with diamond jewelry, and she looks like a retired fashion model — maybe fifty years old, though it is hard for Jason to judge. Her long dark hair sweeps over one shoulder, and her face is gorgeous in that surreal super-model way — thin and haughty and cold, not quite human. With their long red-painted nails, her fingers look more like talons.

She smiles. "I'm so happy to see new customers. How may I help you?"

(Y/n) glances at Jason like, All yours.

"Urn," Jason starts, "is this your store?"

The woman nods. "I found it abandoned, you know. I understand so many stores are, these days. I decided it would make the perfect place. I love collecting tasteful objects, helping people, and offering quality goods at a reasonable price. So this seemed a good . . . how do you say . . . first acquisition in this country."

She speaks with a pleasing accent, but Jason can't guess where from. Clearly she isn't hostile, though. Jason starts to relax. Her voice is rich and exotic. Jason wants to hear more, but glancing at (Y/n), Jason can tell that the daughter of Poseidon couldn't care less.

"So you're new to America?" he asks.

"I am . . . new," the woman agrees. "I am the Princess of Colchis. My friends call me Your Highness. Now, what are you looking for?"

Jason had heard of rich foreigners buying American department stores. Of course most of the time they didn't sell poisons, living fur coats, storm spirits, or satyrs, but still—with a nice voice like that, the Princess of Colchis can't be all bad.

Piper pokes him in the ribs. "Jason . . ."

"Urn, right. Actually Your Highness . . ." He points to the gilded cage on the first floor. "That's our friend down there, Gleeson Hedge. The satyr. Could we . . . have him back, please?"

"Of course!" the princess agrees immediately. "I would love to show you my inventory. First, may I know your names?"

Jason hesitates. It seems like a bad idea to give out their names. A memory tugs at the back of his mind — something Hera had warned him about, but it seems fuzzy. On the other hand, Her Highness is on the verge of cooperating. If we can get what we want without a fight, that would be better, right? Besides, this lady doesn't seem like an enemy.

Piper starts to say, "Jason, I wouldn't—"

"This is Piper McLean," he said. "This is Leo Valdez. (Y/n) Jackson. And I'm Jason."

The princess fixes her eyes on him and, just for a moment, her face literally glows, blazing with so much anger, Jason can see her skull beneath her skin. Jason's mind is getting blurrier, but he knows something doesn't seem right. Then the moment passes, and Her Highness looks like a normal elegant woman again, with a cordial smile and a soothing voice.

"Jason. What an interesting name," she says, her eyes as cold as the Chicago wind. "I think we'll have to make a special deal for you. Come children. Let's go shopping."

. . .

Piper wants to run for the elevator.

Her second choice: attack the weird princess now, because she is sure a fight is coming. The way the lady's face had glowed when she'd heard Jason's name had been bad enough. Now, Her Highness is smiling like nothing has happened, and Jason and Leo don't seem to think anything is wrong.

Piper is unsure what's going on with (Y/n), but she seems to be resisting whatever spell Her Highness had placed on Leo and Jason, though her forehead is beading with sweat.

The princess gestures towards the cosmetics counter. "Shall we start with the potions?"

And (Y/n)'s mental block shatters. "Cool," she says, following Jason and Leo.

"Guys," Piper interrupts, and (Y/n) stops in her tracks, "we're here to get the storm spirits and Coach Hedge. If this – princess – is really our friend –"

"Oh, I'm better than a friend, my dear," Her Highness says. "I'm a saleswoman." Her diamonds sparkle, and her eyes glitter like a snake's — cold and dark. "Don't worry. We'll work our way down to the first floor, eh?"

(Y/n) nods eagerly. "Sure, yeah! That sounds okay. Right, Piper?"

Piper does her best to stare daggers at her: No, it is not okay!

"Of course it's okay." Her Highness puts her hands on Leo's and Jason's shoulders and steer them towards the cosmetics. "Come along, boys."

Piper didn't have much choice except to follow, especially when (Y/n) glances eagerly back at Piper before she bounces after Leo, Jason, and the princess.

Piper hated department stores — mostly because she'd gotten caught stealing from several of them. Well, not exactly caught, and not exactly stealing. She'd talked salesmen into giving her computers, new boots, a gold ring, once even a lawn mower, though she had no idea why she wanted one. She never kept the stuff. She just did it to get her dad's attention. Usually she talked her neighborhood UPS guy into taking the stuff back. But of course the salesmen she duped always came to their senses and called the police, who eventually tracked her down.

Anyway, she isn't thrilled to be back in a department store — especially one run by a crazy princess who glows in the dark.

"And here," the princess says, "is the finest assortment of magical mixtures anywhere."

The counter is crammed with bubbling beakers and smoking vials on tripods. Lining the display shelves are crystal flasks — some shaped like swans or honey bear dispensers. The liquids inside are every color, from glowing white to polka-dotted. And the smells — ugh! Some are pleasant, like fresh-baked cookies or roses, but they are mixed with the scents of burning tires, skunk spray, and gym lockers.

The princess points to a blood red vial — a simple test tube with a cork stopper. "This one will heal any disease."

"Even cancer?" Leo asks. "Leprosy? Hangnails?"

"Any disease, sweet boy. And this vial" — she points to a swan-shaped container with blue liquid inside — "will kill you very painfully."

"Awesome," (Y/n) says, her voice sounds dazed and sleepy.

"(Y/n)," Piper said. "We've got a job to do. Remember?" She tries to put power into her words, to snap her out of her trance with charmspeak, but her voice sounds shaky, even to her. This princess scares her too much, making her confidence crumble, just the way she'd felt back in the Aphrodite cabin with Drew.

"Job to do," (Y/n) murmurs, meeting Piper's kaleidoscope gaze. "Sure. But shopping first, okay?"

The princess beams at her. "Then we have potions for resisting fire —"

"Got that covered," Leo said.

"Me too," (Y/n) replies. "One time I got exploded out of a volcano." And she simply moves closer to the potions counter.

Piper blinks, looking bewildered.

"Indeed?" The princess studies Leo's face more closely. "You don't appear to be wearing my trademark sunscreen . . . but no matter. We also have potions that cause blindness, insanity, sleep, or —"

"Wait." Piper is still staring at the red vial. "Could that potion cure lost memory?"

The princess narrows her eyes. "Possibly. Yes. Quite possibly. Why, my dear? Have you forgotten something important?"

Piper tries to keep her expression neutral, but if that vial can cure Jason's memory . . . Do I really want that? she wonders. If Jason finds out who she is, she might not even be her friend. Hera had taken away her memories for a reason. (Y/n) might come out of her amnesia and decide that she hated Piper. She might have a girlfriend back home.

It doesn't matter, Piper decided, which kind of surprised her. (Y/n) always looked so anguished when she tried to remember things. Piper hates seeing her that way. She wants to help her because she cares about (Y/n), even if that means losing her. And maybe it'll make this trip through Her Craziness's department store worthwhile.

"How much?" Piper asks.

The princess gets a faraway look in her eyes. "Well, now . . . The price is always tricky. I love helping people. Honestly, I do. And I always keep my bargains, but sometimes people try to cheat me." Her gaze drifts to Jason. "Once, for instance, I met a handsome young man who wanted a treasure from my father's kingdom. We made a bargain, and I promised to help him steal it."

"From your own dad?" Jason still looks half in a trance, but the idea seems to bother him.

"Oh, don't worry," the princess says. "I demanded a high price. The young man had to take me away with him. He was quite good-looking, dashing, strong . . ." She looks at Piper. "I'm sure, my dear, you understand how one might be attracted to such a hero, and want to help her," the princess glances at (Y/n), who is studying all the labels on the potion bottles.

Piper tries to control her emotions, but she probably blushes. She gets the creepiest feeling the princess can read her thoughts.

But Piper also finds the princess's story disturbingly familiar. Pieces of old myths she'd read with her dad start coming together, but this woman can't be the one she was thinking of.

"At any rate," Her Highness continues, "my hero had to do many impossible tasks, and I'm not bragging when I say he couldn't have done them without me. I betrayed my own family to win the hero his prize. And still he cheated me of my payment."

"Cheated?" (Y/n) frowns, as if trying to remember something important.

"That's messed up," Leo says.

Her Highness pats his cheek affectionately. "I'm sure you don't need to worry, Leo. You seem honest. You would always pay a fair price, wouldn't you?"

Leo nods. "What were we buying again? I'll take two."

Piper breaks in: "So, the vial, Your Highness — how much?"

The princess assesses Piper's clothes, her face, her posture, as if putting a price tag on one slightly used demigod.

"Would you give anything for it, my dear?" the princess asks. "I sense that you would."

The words wash over Piper as powerfully as a good surfing wave. The force of the suggestion nearly lifts her off her feet. She wants to pay any price. She wants to say yes.

Then her stomach twists. Piper realizes she is being charmspoken. She'd senses something like it before, when Drew spoke at the campfire, but this is a thousand times more potent. No wonder her friends are dazed. Is this what people felt when I use charmspeak? A feeling of guilt settles over her.

She summons all her willpower. "No, I won't pay any price. But a fair price, maybe. After that, we need to leave. Right, guys?"

Just for a moment, her words seem to have some effect. The boys look confused, and the glazed look leaves (Y/n)'s gaze.

"Leave?" Jason asks.

"You mean . . . after shopping?" Leo asked.

Piper wants to scream, but the princess tilts her head, examining Piper with newfound respect.

"Impressive," the princess says. "Not many people could resist my suggestions. Are you a child of Aphrodite, my dear? Ah, yes — I should have seen it. No matter. Perhaps we should shop a while longer before you decide what to buy, eh?"

"But the vial —"

"Now, children." She turns to Jason, (Y/n), and Leo. Her voice is so much more powerful than Piper's, so full of confidence, Piper doesn't stand a chance. "Would you like to see more?"

The film slides back over over (Y/n)'s brain, and she nods excitedly.

"Sure," Jason says.

"Okay," Leo adds.

"Sounds fun," (Y/n) chirps.

"Excellent," the princess says. "You'll need all the help you can get if you're to make it to the Bay Area."

Piper's hand moves to her dagger. She thinks about her dream of the mountaintop — the scene Enceladus had shown her, a place she knew, where she was supposed to betray her friends in two days.

"The Bay Area?" Piper says. "Why the Bay Area?"

The princess smiles. "Well, that's where they'll die, isn't it?" Then she leads them towards the escalators, Jason, (Y/n), and Leo still looking excited to shop.

. . .

Piper corners the princess as Jason, (Y/n), and Leo go off to check out the living fur coats.

"You want them shopping for their deaths?" Piper demands, following (Y/n) out of the corner of her eye.

"Mmm." The princess blew dust off a display case of swords. "I'm a seer, my dear. I know your little secret. But we don't want to dwell on that, do we? They are having such fun."

Leo laughs as he tried on a hat that seems to be made from enchanted raccoon fur. Its ringed tail twitches, and its little legs wiggle frantically as Leo walks. Jason is ogling the men's sportswear. (Y/n) is studying a rack of shield, some of them looking as though they'd been burned with acid.

Piper glares at the princess. "Who are you?"

"I told you, my dear. I'm the Princess of Colchis."

"Where's Colchis?"

The princess's expression turns a little sad. "Where was Colchis, you mean. My father ruled the far shores of the Black Sea, as far to the east as a Greek ship could sail in those days. But Colchis is no more—lost eons ago."

"Eons?" Piper asks. The princess looks no more than fifty, but a bad feeling starts settling over Piper — something King Boreas had mentioned back in Quebec. "How old are you?"

The princess laughs. "A lady should avoid asking or answering that question. Let's just say the, ah, immigration process to enter your country took quite a while. My patron finally brought me through. She made all this possible." The princess sweeps her hand around the department store.

Piper's mouth tastes like metal. "Your patron –"

"Oh, yes. She doesn't bring just anyone through, mind you — only those who have special talents, such as me. And really, she insists on so little — a store entrance that must be underground so she can, ah, monitor my clientele; and a favor now and then. In exchange for a new life? Really, it was the best bargain I'd made in centuries."

Run, Piper thinks. We have to get out of here.

But before she can even turn her thoughts into words, Jason calls, "Hey, check it out!"

From a rack labeled distressed clothing, he holds up a purple T-shirt like the one he'd worn on the school field trip — except this shirt looks as if it had been clawed by tigers.

Jason frowns. "Why does this look so familiar?"

"Jason, it's like yours" Piper says. "Now we really have to leave." But she wasn't sure he could even hear her anymore through the princess's enchantment.

"Nonsense," the princess said. "The boys aren't done, are they? And yes, my dear. Those shirts are very popular—trade ins from previous customers. It suits you."

(Y/n), who had joined Jason at the rack, pulls out an orange Camp Half Blood t-shirt, shredded much like the one she'd been wearing on the Grand Canyon field trip.

She looks up at the princess, and the princess nods. "I'll throw that one in with the storm spirits and your satyr."

"Really?" (Y/n) looks more excited than Piper had ever seen her – a child-like excitement.

"Mhm," the princess smiles.

"Your Highness," Piper said, trying to control her nerves. "Why don't you tell the boys how you betrayed your family? I'm sure they'd like to hear that story."

Her words don't have any effect on the princess, but the boys turn, suddenly interested. The film slides back off (Y/n)'s brain, and Piper catches the momentary look of fury that had slid across (Y/n)'s face, but then it slips back into a dazed grin.

"More story?" Leo asks.

"I like more story!" Jason agrees.

The princess flashes Piper an irritated look. "Oh, one will do strange things for love, Piper. You should know that. I fell for that young hero, in fact, because your mother Aphrodite had me under a spell. If it wasn't for her — but I can't hold a grudge against a goddess, can I?" The princess's tone makes her meaning clear: I can take it out on you.

"But that hero took you with him when he fled Colchis," Piper remembers. "Didn't he, Your Highness? He married you just as he promised."

The look in the princess's eyes makes Piper want to apologize, but she doesn't back down.

"At first," Her Highness admits, "it seemed he would keep his word. But even after I helped him steal my father's treasure, he still needed my help. As we fled, my brother's fleet came after us. His warships overtook us. He would have destroyed us, but I convinced my brother to come aboard our ship first and talk under a flag of truce. He trusted me."

"And you killed your own brother," Piper says, the horrible story all coming back to her, along with a name — an infamous name that began with the letter M.

"What?" Jason stirs. For a moment he looks almost like himself. "Killed your own—"

"No," the princess snaps. "Those stories are lies. It was my new husband and his men who killed my brother, though they couldn't have done it without my deception. They threw his body into the sea, and the pursuing fleet had to stop and search for it so they could give my brother a proper burial. This gave us time to get away. All this, I did for my husband. And he forgot our bargain. He betrayed me in the end."

Jason still looks uncomfortable. "What did he do?"

The princess holds the sliced-up toga against Jason's chest, as if measuring him for an assassination. "Don't you know the story, my boy? You of all people should. You were named for him."

"Jason," Piper said. "The original Jason. But then you're — you should be dead!"

The princess smiles. "As I said, a new life in a new country. Certainly I made mistakes. I turned my back on my own people. I was called a traitor, a thief, a liar, a murderess. But I acted out of love." She turns to the boys and gives them a pitiful look, batting her eyelashes. Piper can feel the sorcery washing over them, taking control more firmly than ever. "Wouldn't you do the same for someone you loved, my dears?"

"Oh, sure," Jason says.

"Okay," Leo adds.

But (Y/n) doesn't reply, and she sneaks a glance at Piper.

"Guys!" Piper grinds her teeth in frustration. "Don't you see who she is? Don't you —"

"Let's continue, shall we?" the princess says breezily. "I believe you wanted to talk about a price for the storm spirits – and your satyr.

Leo gets distracted on the second floor with the appliances. "No way," he exclaims. "Is that an armored forge?"

Before Piper can stop him, he hops off the escalator and runs over to a big oval oven.

When they catch up with him, the princess says, "You have good taste. This is the H-2000, designed by Hephaestus himself. Hot enough to melt Celestial bronze or Imperial gold."

Jason flinches as if he recognizes that term. "Imperial gold?"

The princess nods. "Yes, my dear. Like that weapon so cleverly concealed in your pocket. To be properly forged, Imperial gold had to be consecrated in the Temple of Jupiter on Capitoline Hill in Rome. Quite a powerful and rare metal, but like the Roman emperors, quite volatile. Be sure never to break that blade . . ." She smiles pleasantly. "Rome was after my time, of course, but I do hear stories. And now over here — this golden throne is one of my finest luxury items. Hephaestus made it as a punishment for his mother, Hera. Sit in it and you'll be immediately trapped."

Leo apparently takes this as an order. He begins walking towards it in a trance.

"Leo, don't!" Piper warns.

Leo blinks, "How much for both?"

"Oh, the seat I could let you have for five great deeds. The forge, seven years of servitude. And for only a bit of your strength —" She leads Leo into the appliance section, giving him prices on various items.

Piper doesn't want to leave Leo alone with her, but she has to try reasoning with (Y/n). She pulls her aside and raises an arm to slap her across the face to try and wake her from the spell.

(Y/n) however, flinches violently, and Piper's heart clenches. Her expression softens, and she simply rests her hand on (Y/n)'s arm. "Hey," her tone is gentle. "You gotta snap out of it," Piper puts as much force into her words as she can without raising her voice.

The film slides from behind the daughter of Poseidon's eyes, and she focuses on Piper.

"We gotta help the boys," (Y/n) says, following Leo and Jason with her eyes.

. . .

Ridiculous," Medea says, and Piper can hear the power charged in every syllable. "(Y/n), Jason — my price is so simple. Why don't you two fight? If you get injured, or even killed, no problem. We'll just throw you into the fountain and you'll be better than ever. You do want to fight, don't you? You resent each other!"

The sorcery washes over the two demigods.

"Zeus's kids are always the stars," (Y/n) snarls. "They always get the attention."

"You're annoying, (Y/n)," Jason replies. "You never take anything seriously."

"Stop!" Piper pleads, but both draw weapons – Jason his gold sword, and (Y/n) her bronze sword.

The ancient rivalry between Zeus and Poseidon was about to be finished by their children – first it had been Percy and Thalia, and now by (Y/n) and Jason.

"Let them go, Piper," Medea urges. "I'm doing you a favor. Let it happen now, and it will make your choice so much easier. Enceladus will be pleased. You could have your father back today!"

Medea's charmspeak doesn't work on her, but the sorceress still has a persuasive voice. Her father back today? Despite her best intentions, Piper wants that. She wants her father back so much, it hurt.

"You work for Enceladus," she says.

Medea laughs. "Serve a giant? No. But we all serve the same greater cause — a patron you cannot begin to challenge. Walk away, child of Aphrodite. This does not have to be your death, too. Save yourself, and your father can go free."

(Y/n) and Jason are still facing off, ready to fight, but they look unsteady and confused — waiting for another order. Part of them had to be resisting, Piper hoped. But fighting – especially children of Poseidon and Zeus – is in their nature.

"Listen to me, girl." Medea plucks a diamond off her bracelet and throws it into a spray of water from the fountain. As it passed through the multicolored light, Medea said, "O Iris, goddess of the rainbow, show me the office of Tristan McLean."

The mist shimmers, and Piper sees her father's study. Sitting behind his desk, talking on the phone, is her dad's assistant, Jane, in her dark business suit, her hair swirled in a tight bun.

"Hello, Jane," Medea says.

Jane hangs up the phone calmly. "How can I help you, ma'am? Hello, Piper."

"You —" Piper is so angry she can hardly talk.

"Yes, child," Medea replies. "Your father's assistant. Quite easy to manipulate. An organized mind for a mortal, but incredibly weak."

"Thank you, ma'am," Jane says.

"Don't mention it," Medea replies. "I just wanted to congratulate you, Jane. Getting Mr. McLean to leave town so suddenly, take his jet to Oakland without alerting the press or the police — well done! No one seems to know where he's gone. And telling him his daughter's life was on the line — that was a nice touch to get his cooperation."

"Nfes," Jane agrees in a bland tone, as if she is sleepwalking. "He was quite cooperative when he believed Piper was in danger."

Piper looks down at her dagger. The blade trembles in her hand. She can't use it for a weapon any better than Helen of Troy could, but it is still a looking glass, and what she sees in it is a scared girl with no chance of winning.

"I may have new orders for you, Jane," Medea says. "If the girl cooperates, it may be time for Mr. McLean to come home. Would you arrange a suitable cover story for his absence, just in case? And I imagine the poor man will need some time in a psychiatric hospital."

"Yes, ma'am. I will stand by."

The image fades, and Medea turns to Piper. "There, you see?"

"You lured my dad into a trap," Piper said. "You helped the giant —''

"Oh, please, dear. You'll work yourself into a fit! I've been preparing for this war for years, even before I was brought back to life. I'm a seer, as I said. I can tell the future as well as your little oracle. Years ago, still suffering in the Fields of Punishment, I had a vision of the seven in your so-called Great Prophecy. I saw your friend Leo here, and saw that he would be an important enemy someday. I stirred the consciousness of my patron, gave her this information, and she managed to wake just a little — just enough to visit him."

"Leo's mother," Piper realizes. "Leo, listen to this! She helped get your mother killed!"

"Uh-huh," Leo mumbles, in a daze.

"So . . . I just attack Jason? That's okay?" (Y/n) interrupts, glaring daggers at the son of Zeus.

"Perfectly safe," Medea promises. "And Jason, strike him hard. Show me you are worthy of your namesake."

"No!" Piper orders. She knows this is her last chance. "Jason, (Y/n) — she's tricking you. Put down your weapons."

The sorceress rolls her eyes. "Please, girl. "You're no match for me. I trained with my aunt, the immortal Circe. I can drive men mad or heal them with my voice. What hope do these puny young heroes have against me? Now, kill each other!"

Piper doesn't even see (Y/n) move, but the bronze sword moves so fast that Jason just barely raises his sword to block the blow.

The two metal sword clang together, locking each other in a standstill,

"Jason, Leo, (Y/n), listen to me." Piper puts all of her emotion into her voice. For years she'd been trying to control herself and not show weakness, but now she pours everything into her words — her fear, her desperation, her anger. She knows she might be signing her dad's death warrant, but she cares too much about her friends to let them hurt each other. "Medea is charming you. It's part of her magic. You are best friends. Don't fight each other. Fight her!"

They hesitate, and Piper can feel the spell shatter.

Jason blinks. "(Y/n), was I just about to stab you?"

"Something about my mother . . . ?" Leo frowns, then turns towards Medea. "You . . . you're working for Dirt Woman. You sent her to the machine shop." He reaches into his toolbelt and pulls out a hammer. "Lady, I got a three-pound hammer with your name on it."

"Bah!" Medea sneers. "I'll simply collect payment another way."

She presses one of the mosaic tiles on the floor, and the building rumbles. Jason swings his sword at Medea, but she dissolves into smoke and reappears at the base of the escalator.

"You're slow, hero!" She laughed. "Take your frustration out on my pets!"

Before Jason can go after her, the giant bronze sundials at either end of the fountain swing open. Two snarling gold beasts — flesh-and-blood winged dragons — crawl out from the pits below. Each is the size of a camper van, maybe not large compared to Festus, but large enough.

"So that's what's in the kennels," Leo says meekly.

The dragons spread their wings and hiss. Piper can feel the heat coming off their glittering skin. One turned his angry orange eyes on her.

"Don't look them in the eye!" Jason warns. "They'll paralyze you."

"Indeed!" Medea is leisurely riding the escalator up, leaning against the handrail as she watches the fun. "These two dears have been with me a long time — sun dragons, you know, gifts from my grandfather Helios. They pulled my chariot when I left Corinth, and now they will be your destruction. Ta ta!"

The dragons lunge. Leo, (Y/n), and Jason charge to intercept. Piper is amazed how fearlessly they attack — working like a team who had trained together for years.

Medea is almost to the second floor, where she'd be able to choose from a wide assortment of deadly appliances.

"Oh, no, you don't," Piper growls, and took off after her.

When Medea spots Piper, she starts climbing in earnest. She is quick for a three-thousand-year-old lady. Piper climbs at top speed, taking the steps three at a time, and still she can't catch her. Medea doesn't stop at floor two. She hops the next escalator and continues to ascend.

The potions, Piper thought. Of course that's what she would go for. She was famous for potions.

Down below, Piper hears the battle raging. Leo is blowing his safety whistle, and Jason and (Y/n) are yelling to keep the dragons' attention. Piper doesn't dare look — not while she is running with a dagger in her hand. She can just see herself tripping and stabbing herself in the nose. That would be super heroic.

She grabs a shield from an armored manikin on floor three and continues to climb. She imagines Coach Hedge yelling in her mind, just like back in gym class at Wilderness School: Move it, McLean! You call that escalator-climbing?

She reaches the top floor, breathing hard, but she is too late. Medea had reached the potions counter.

The sorceress grabs a swan-shaped vial — the blue one that caused painful death — and Piper does the only thing that comes to mind. She throws her shield.

Medea turns triumphantly just in time to get hit in the chest by a fifty-pound metal Frisbee. She stumbles backward, crashing over the counter, breaking vials and knocking down shelves. When the sorceress stands from the wreckage, her dress is stained a dozen different colors. Many of the stains are smoldering and glowing. "Fool!" Medea wails. "Do you have any idea what so many potions will do when mixed?"

"Kill you?" Piper said hopefully.

The carpet begins to steam around Medea's feet. She coughs, and her face contorts in pain — or is she faking?

Below, Leo calls, "Jason, help!"

Piper risks a quick look, and almost sobs in despair. One of the dragons has Leo pinned to the floor. It is baring its fangs, ready to snap. Jason is all the way across the room battling the other dragon, much too far away to assist.

(Y/n) vaults over the dragon's back, and stabs it in the side, pulling it's attention off Leo.

Suddenly, a loud bark shatters the sounds, and a monstrous shape bowls over the other dragon and bites off a leg.

"Good dog!" (Y/n) exclaims. Ms. O'Leary lets out another earth shattering bark, and she attacks the dragon.

"You've doomed us all!" Medea screams at Piper. Smoke is rolling across the carpet as the stain spreads, throwing sparks and setting fires in the clothing racks. "You have only seconds before this concoction consumes everything and destroys the building. There's no time —"

CRASH! The stained glass ceiling splinters in a rain of multicolored shards, and Festus the bronze dragon drops into the department store.

He hurtles into the fray, snatching up a sun dragon in each claw. Only now does Piper appreciate just how big and strong their metal friend is.

"That's my boy!" Leo yells.

Festus flies halfway up the atrium, then hurls the sun dragons into the pits they'd come from. Leo races to the fountain and pressed the marble tile, closing the sundials. They shudder as the dragons bang against them, trying to get out, but for the moment they are contained.

(Y/n) leaps onto Ms. O'Leary's back, and the dog charges up the escalator. She vaults off the dog's back, sliding over to Piper.

Medea curses in some ancient language. The whole fourth floor is on fire now. The air fills with noxious gas. Even with the roof open, Piper can feel the heat intensifying. She backs up to the edge of the railing, keeping her dagger pointed toward Medea.

"I will not be abandoned again!" The sorceress kneels and snatches up the red healing potion, which had somehow survived the crash. "You want your girlfriend's memory restored? Take me with you!"

Piper glances behind her. Leo and Jason are on board Festus's back. The bronze dragon flaps his mighty wings, snatching the two cages with the satyr and the storm spirits in his claws, and begins to ascend.

The building rumbles. Fire and the smoke curls up the walls, melting the railings, turning the air to acid.

"Let's go!" (Y/n) grabs Piper's hand, and the two jump over the side.

They plummet only for seconds, when Leo and Jason grab (Y/n)'s arm, hauling them aboard the dragon.

"What about your dog?" Piper looks around to find that the massive, mountainous dog had vanished.

The dragon soars through the broken roof and over downtown Chicago. Then the department store explodes behind them.

Word Count: 8934 words

#piper mclean x reader #piper mclean x fem reader #piper mclean x female reader #the lost hero #the son of neptune #the heroes of olympus #the blood of olympus #the house of hades #the mark of athena #annabeth chase x reader #annabeth chase x sister reader #percy jackson x sister reader

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thefreelanceangel · 8 months

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FFXIVWrite2023 (#8 - Shed)

For all that Chessi devoutly believed herself to be stupid, she'd learned fairly quickly to just... not reminisce about her life before she'd met the Kyhos. From that point onward, she'd gained friends, even a family, and so chatting gaily about how happy she'd be to see Narasen and Voranoix again, how she wondered if Noix'a'd grown any... That came under the "does not make anyone upset" category of conversation.

Anything prior to that... well...

Sezra would get that look on his face, the one that Chessi considered "bad", and while he didn't hurt her when it arrived, he also didn't smile or laugh or do any of the things Chessi associated with "happy." She didn't like that particular angle of his violet-furred ears, that tense line of his shoulders, the way his tail would stiffen.

And as she didn't like it, he didn't like it, she simply... didn't discuss those years. Even on nights when she felt particularly warm towards moments from her childhood, Chessi couldn't be certain that what she disclosed would be met with a smile, a stern face, or that look.

Listening to the soft choir of 'peep, peep' drifting up from the water, Chessi smiled to herself. She never felt more at home, more settled in her place in the world, in her heart, than when she heard the soft sounds of nearby frogs.

It'd been her lullaby, soothing her to sleep as she curled up in the small hollow in the earth that'd served as her bed, out in what Uncle Les called 'her shed' in the back yard. With the gapping between the boards forming the small structure, she'd been able to see moonlight on water, the little ripples caused by a frog plunking from one lily pad to the next, the dance of shadows when a breeze kicked up to play with the cattails.

She'd loved that shed, *her* shed. While she'd always shivered her way through the winter and early spring, Chessi'd found it fairly comfortable for the rest of the year. She could stand up in it, spread her arms out and lay her palms flat on the walls. The earthen floor let her dig out a hollow that just fit her body perfectly, another to cradle her rear when she sat, little hollows to hold her few possessions. And there'd even been a narrow shelf on the back wall where she could set the pretty pieces of broken glass Les gave her when something went wrong with the bottles.

For years, she'd known no other home.

Chessi recalled every whorl and knot in the boards she'd gazed through while settling down to sleep. One she'd called her sleep friend, as it looked like a smiling face in the wood, and she'd even managed to sand that part of the wood smooth with scraps of sandpaper she'd gotten from the Carpenters' Guild.

Part of her nightly routine when not traveling to deliver Les' liquor had involved rubbing her sleep friend with a fingertip before kissing it good night.

And while the ramshackle building let in rain, snow, and wind, it'd also let in moonlight, sunlight, the sweet scent of wildflowers, the song of birds, and her very favorite, the happy chatter of frogs in the pond below.

She didn't often wonder about the shed anymore. Now that she had a home--with her own bedroom and a whole bed!--and parents, a sibling--and maybe even more one day, Narasen had said!!--Chessi didn't miss what scant comforts she'd once clung to.

And with Sezra's arm across her, the warmth and weight of her friend pressing against her back, his breath stirring her hair, Chessi couldn't say she felt any lack in her life at all any longer.

...but she wondered, now and then, about the shed. Her shed. All those years it'd been her home, her haven, her shelter from Les' temper, from people who laughed at her or threw things. Those four crooked walls, for so long, meant safety and comfort.

Did it still stand? Voranoix'd said that when Les went missing--she now finally believed he'd passed away, leaving her with no blood relatives as he'd always threatened to--the property defaulted to ownership of the Gridania city-state. Someone likely bought it, a good bargain, too.

As Chessi adjusted the pillow under her head, angling herself a bit to peer out into the La Noscean night, she hoped that the property went to a bustling family with a dozen kids who'd play in the pond, chase the frogs, and perhaps even hide in the shed when their parents called them in to take a bath.

She'd loved it for so long, she hoped someone else had a chance to love it, too.

#Chessi Eder #FFXIVWrite2023 #Yes she did live in a ramshackle shed in her uncle's back yard for most of her life #Yes Les was very much an abusive asshole (which is why her adopted daddy Voranoix killed him ^^)#but Chessi looks at everything through rose-tinted glasses #and she was genuinely proud of her shed

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pvffinsdaisies · 6 months

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The Nordics as song’s from Maisie Peters’ “You Signed Up For This”

With no explanation. Featuring OCs. The Good Witch.

YOU SIGNED UP FOR THIS: ICELAND

“Please don’t give up on me yet, I know I’ll get better, I’m just not better yet. Can you tell I’m trying, running out of breath? I know I’ll get better, I’m just not better yet (you signed up for this.)”

I’M TRYING (NOT FRIENDS): DENMARK

“We were bad but we’re gonna be good. It didn’t work like we thought it would, and I resent you just a little, if I’m honest, but one of use has gotta try to keep a promise. And I swore that I’d swallow my pride, and you swore you would do better this time, well I might be bitter and twisted and broken and petty and lying, but at least I’m trying.”

JOHN HUGHES MOVIE: ÅLAND

“Cause this ain’t no John Hughes movie where the girl gets the guy, you look right through me every time I walk by. I keep waiting for the heartbreak music that’s never gonna come, cause if you don’t want me, then you’re not the one!”

OUTDOOR POOL: ICELAND

“We went swimming in an outdoor pool, and you wouldn’t tell a soul at school; I’m just 15, I just want you so that’s cool. It’s almost Skins if my eyes stay shut, but I don’t swim and you’re not in love. And you only kissed me after midnight in an outdoor pool.”

LOVE HIM I DON’T: NORWAY

“Now it’s coming up roses, kicking up snow, what a long winter, what a bad joke. Shady when we held hands, everyone else can have him, but I won’t. Love him I don’t, love him I won’t, love him I did for a minute, but I’ve finished cause I’ve learnt. Loving him hurts, loving him don’t work, so love him I don’t.”

PSYCHO: NORWAY

“Now that I’m over that hill, you wanna say how you feel, crazy to think that you still call me psycho. You wanna talk? Not ideal. Heard I moved on, babe, that’s real. And you got a girl, but you still call me psycho.”

BOY: NORWAY

“Boy, you think I’m dumb, trying to pull one on me like I’ve never been kissed. You had a couple of exes and I know that they let you get away with it, but you’re a boy, and I can tell that you’ve never been hugged, boy, and I can do better than this, oh, better than this.”

HOLLOW: SWEDEN

“Hollow, this hurts so loud, further than down. You left me hollow, are you happy now? I hope you’re happy now.”

VILLAIN: DENMARK

“Now you’re in her room getting undressed. I curse you on the front of the steps; I’ll burn this house, I mean it! If she’s the girl of your dreams, the best thing you’ve ever seen, well, what does that make me then? I’m your villain.”

BROOKLYN: FINLAND

“If you’re looking, if you’re looking for the girl of your dreams, she’s in Brooklyn with me, she’s in Brooklyn with me. If you’re looking, if you’re looking for the girl of your dreams, she’s in Brooklyn with me, she’s in Brooklyn with me. And if you want to take her out, you’re gonna have to ask me first! Come on, have you seen those eyes? It’s nothing but the best for her. Oh, if you’re looking, if you’re looking for the girl of your dreams, she’s in Brooklyn with me, she’s in Brooklyn with me.”

ELVIS SONG: DENMARK

“Late nights in the old arcade, drinking cheap wine as Elvis plays, singing, “you were always on my mind.” I was was yours and you were mine. Breakfast on your sofa bed, thinking, “oh, god, I’m in over my head.” You were always on my mind, you’re always on my mind.”

TALKING TO STRANGERS: SWEDEN

“Oh, I can’t stop, I can’t just not tell the whole wide world and this room. No, I can’t stop- even if I wanted to- talking to strangers about you, talking to strangers about you.”

VOLCANO: ICELAND

“All or nothing, you chose nothing! Pulled a parachute as the ground came rushing. You got away with it, with it, with it, yeah. All or nothing, you felt nothing! Pulled a parachute as the ground came rushing. You got away with it, with it.”

TOUGH ACT: FINLAND

“I know the reasons, took a couple tries to see them, but now everything is through, it’s you I wanna call though. When all I’ve known of is something that I should let go of, I’ll cut it at the root, and drain it till it’s all so hollow, but you are one tough act to follow.”

#I am not linking the songs again this time #sorry but that took forever & was draining #hetalia #aph nordics #aph iceland #aph denmark #aph åland islands #aph norway #aph sweden #aph finland #I’ll be honest I did nearly panic that finland wouldn’t be here at all #but they pulled through at the end

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summerdazed · 11 months

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Trigun characters and what horse I think they would have

Sooo I haven’t finished stampede yet nor have I watched the og anime or read they manga so some of these are based off vibes alone. I’ll come back later and see what I think after I do finish lol. Trigun just give me such old western movie vibes that I have to do this

Vash the Stampede

- If any of y’all have seen the Lone Ranger I think Vash would have a horse exactly like that

- Snow white, kinda tall, but irritatingly smart and kinda maybe dislikes him a bit

- However the horse will always show up at the right moment to rescue him cause it’s attached and it’s hard to be a horse without a rider lmao cause after all who will pay for snacks

- Highkey worried the horse would go colic or something else will happen cause it’s probably addicted to donuts too

Nicolas D. Wolfwood

- I feel like he would have a pretty bay horse

- And one that’s very charming an lovely one at that

- That’s how they got him lmao he fell for their cute face and now he’s stuck with them but it’s okay because he would love his horse

- The horse would hate carrying around that heavy ass cross though

Meryl Stryfe

- She’d have a big ass horse. Like so fucking tall I swear

- It would be so fat too because she’d baby and pamper it a lot

- Lowkey feel like she’d have a buckskin

- Anyway her horse would be very spoiled

Roberto De Niro

- He’d have a mule. Idk why but he just gives me mule vibes

- It’s bad as fuck and causes trouble

- Lowkey I feel like it would get into things too

- The mule had definitely kicked a bad guy too

Millions Knives

- The horse picked him, he did not pick the horse

- He seems like the type to want a white horse but when he sees it’s coat turns a brown in the winter he’s slightly confused and disappointed

- He’s horse would be a little dumb I’m sorry but he’s attached to it so it’s okay

- Would spoil it in a round about way

- Also I feel like it’s on the shorter side too

Milly Thompson

- Another one with a spoiled horse

- She takes such good care of it

- Lowkey feel like the horse would be tall as well

- Maybe paint vibes idk but i could see here with a patterned horse

- I feel like she and her horse would be the bestest of friends idk

Legato Bluesummers

- Giving me black horse vibes

- I know nothing about this man but his hair stood out to me so we’re gonna say his horse has long hair that’s always styled

- I feel like is horse would also be very chill

Livio the Double Fang

- Now this man looks like a cowboy

- He definitely has a sorrel horse I don’t make the rules

- Lowkey I feel like the horse would be a little hotheaded sorry

- And a troublemaker but Livio loves it so it’s all good

Midvalley the Hornfreak

- What kinda name first of all

- Chocolate brown horse with white socks and a white face vibe

- Like all white i can’t remember what that making is call sorry

- Lowkey he looks obsessed with that instrument so maybe his horse is called reed idk

#trigun #trigun stampede #this is so random but I’m not sorry

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nuri148 · 1 year

Note

Do you mind if I ask your top 10 favorite characters (can be male or female) from all of the media that you loved (can be anime/manga, books, movies or tv series)? And why do you love them? Sorry if you've answered this question before.....Thanks....

Hi Anon! Thank you so much for the ask! No, I hadn’t been asked this before.

It was quite hard to come up with 10 names for, outside of my current blorbos, throughout my life (which is quite longer than that of most people around this site) I’ve consumed and loved a lot of fiction, and so I’ve loved many characters, but also many of them I fell in love when I was too young to know (or remember) why I liked them, or know anything about characterization at all.

Still, I tried to cover a wide variety of works/genres, which as I racked my brains came with some interesting revelations:

- The first characters that came to mind were all males. It took me an extra effort to recall some female characters that I love.

- The list is white af. This can be for a number of reasons, all related to complex societal dynamics, cultural constructs and how the media portrays or ignores this. This is meant a light hearted ask, so I won’t delve into that, but I did want it to make clear that yes, I’m aware this list lacks diversity.

Some of these media I haven't seen for years so apologies if my memory of some details is not very accurate.

Last but not least, as I don’t like the reductionism of “top x”, I am listing with bullets for these come in no particular order. (Except Levi, of course; as current top Blorbo he could actually fill the top 10 by himself.)

Levi Ackerman (AoT) – He kicks ass, he’s a no-nonsense guy, he’s got a rough exterior but it’s a kind person. He’s had a shitty life but he chooses to be the good guy, even if he has to resort to violence sometimes.

Severus Snape (HP) – I said it already and I’ll say it again that I’ve no proof and no doubt that if you were a Snape fangirl, you’ll be a Levi fangirl. Snape makes Levi look like Miss Congeniality in comparison. He too had a rough life,went over to the dark side, yet realised he’d fucked up big time and spent the rest of his life trying to minimize the damage his actions had caused. PLUS he’s a huge nerd.

Mike Ehrmentraut (BB/BCS) – Mike is SO OVER being a badass. He just wants to live a quite life spoiling his grandaughter. His curse is being too good at what he does, and he can’t help but care about the idiots that would die if he wasn’t there to clean their messes. (On the topic of diversity... Honorable mention for Stanley from The Office and Lester from The Wire, whose “I’m too old for this shit” vibes give me life).

Arya Stark (GOT) – She didn’t stay around suffering for her losses nor went into a rampage, nope. She took the long scenic route to become a pro killer to serve her revenge in a cold dish.

Heidi (from the 70's anime series)– Hands down my first and oldest Blorbo. She lived in the mountains, roamed barefoot on beautiful meadows, was friends with a bunch of goats and all the little critters of the alps. What’s not to love? (At the ripe age of 3, I would make my mum buy me goat cheese bc if Heidi ate it, so must I. At 4 my parents took me to the mountains in winter so I could see the snow and the fir trees that Heidi loved. We’re rewatching now and my new Heidi Blorbo is Joseph the dog, he’s got big Mike Ehrmentraut energy).

Jesse Pinkman (BB)– He’s a good guy who fell into the wrong path. He’s had rotten luck, partly brought onto himself through bad choices and poor judgement, yet he still tries to do good and craves some love.

Petunia Dursley (HP)- Harry's unlikable aunt kinda grew on me over the years, as we saw some of her backstory and how it resonated with parts of my own family history. She grew up knowing herself the lesser child and I believe she never got a chance to smooth things over with Lily. In spite of which P. still cared enough to do the right thing and take charge of Harry (horribly, admittedly).

Omar Little (The Wire) - I don't usually like "bad" characters but Omar was more badass than he was bad. Circumstances made him a violent criminal but he I believe he had redemption potential. Also, how cool is it that he was unequivocally gay in a setting where everyone tends to be so macho... but of course no one would say anything about it. bc it's Omar.

Peter - he's the MC and first person narrator from a rather unknown Ray Bradbury's short story titled “I’m not so dumb” which is one of my favourite Bradbury's tales. Like the title suggests, as the story unfolds the simple-minded Peter will try to show his neighbours that he's not that stupid.

Mafalda - I could not leave out the title character of the (likely) most famous comic in Argentine history. Mafalda's concern for world affairs is of course unrealistic, but it does sort of put those call-outs "in the mouth of babes".

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mlem2460 · 1 year

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FROZEN BUT W OVERTHINKING

kristoff fr frozen 1 but he acts like the trolls that raised him instead of more human like w anna.

imagine the troll song. imagine him singing w them, convinced to get married in seconds, seeing no problem w the ceremony. anna protests. kristoff asks y. she says u cant marry someone u just met. he confused, "aint that what u doin w the prince?" she stutters.

she was raised as an only child n before that as the youngest. she cannot be the most responsible person here. she refuses to be the reasonable or responsible older sibling. shes the younger sister dammit n her older sister should be here to be responsible. in fact, elsa can deal w this. shes the older sister n she has to help solve annas problems cause she reserves her right as the youngest to have her problems solved by her older sibling n she will climb that dam mountain n make her sister do her older sibling duty n fix her love life.

cue elsa "theres an eternal winter??!!?" devolving into a panic attack, cut off by anna 'will punch a mofo, or in this case, slap a bee' moment. elsa boutta explode. anna "forget that! im engaged to a prince i met a couple days ago n a human troll-child a couple hours ago n i dont kno what to do! fix!! this!!!" elsa shocked right out of any panic or rage "...what?"

anna dramatically flops her body onto elsa n elsa panic summons an ice couch. theyre sprawled out; elsa confused n longsuffering regretting being born before the fellow fruit of their parents loins, anna sporadically switching between gushing n complaining bout her problems fr her dual engagements to how hard it was to pose midair for that one painting 'it took years of mastery elsa u wouldnt believe-'. kristoff has gotten the ice golem to make them ice dresses to twirl in. olaf is belting out his solo in front of his background dancers. sven is having an office/aoyama moment by looking directly into the camera. elsa already looks exhausted. the snow stops falling.

"oh n u froze my heart, but i just need true loves kiss, but again dual engagements!! what even right?? and ..." kristoff in the background "lets just all get married!" (the trolls were ready to get hitched to a strager in seconds, u cants tell me they dont have polyamory) olaf "ahem! soloing here!!" elsas quite but heartfelt "y"

annas hair goes back to normal n the snow starts melting outside the castle. she has resigned herself to older siblinghood. there is no love more reluctant or resilient. elsa would now kill for anna if she doesnt strangle anna herself. nows annas complaining about the table manners she had to learn.

"just let me eat the food, oh my gosh. who cares how big my cheeks are, if u just let me open my mouth i'll be able to shew it all! and-" "that's disgusting" *gasp* "how dare u" "what kind of gremlin whats to chew with their mouth open?" background kristoff "gremlins get a bad rep but theres not that bad if u get to kno em!" olaf gettin ignit "interrupt my solo again n i will kick u out of my castle" big golem softly "solo too long" *second lil sibling offended gasp* "excuse u, my solo is just the right length to portray..."

elsa wanted solitude. elsa looks like shes given up on her dream n life in general. golem looks like the most exhausted toddler-created-a-few-hours-ago ever. anna n olaf stiff goin off. sven is now glaring at the camera. its summer outside the castle.

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totallyuseless-ugh · 1 year

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Hodge means Family for everyone

Days were getting shorter, yet the streets were brightening up along for the cold season. CJ figured it was to compensate the darkness that always came with winter. Personally, they did not like any of the cold months. It always meant wearing dozens of layered clothes, most colours temporarily disappearing to be replaced with only dark and muddy tones, and most importantly, the cold itself making it impossible to do anything.

But at the same time, they could still often appreciate the more slow and quiet times of the year. Not just for their unique themes, like how the snow made everything look almost innocent and pure. These seasons gave CJ a chance to slow down themself and reflect.

They have never been a fan of the whole Christmas aspect of the holidays since getting into college either though. It had simply lost the sweet and innocent feeling of receiving gifts and spending time with the family, as they now head to stress out every December themself over the gifts to buy.

Meanwhile Darnell absolutely loved all the things CJ disliked about the cold seasons and their holidays. But despite these differences, the couple still could enjoy the first holidays they would spend together. Both had decided to visit their families on the remaining Christmas days, reserving the 24th just for each other.

However, the year after didn’t give them the chance to repeat this. Karen had already invited Darnell in advance for a holiday dinner, together with a plus one if he wanted. It wasn’t anything new for her to say, Pico and the rest of the Flintsons have practically become an extension of the Hodge family. Thus, they often liked to celebrate some of the holidays together every now and then.

Karen always offered for Darnell to bring someone with him to these dinners, expecting to see the redhead he has known since childhood.

But he couldn’t do that this time. Not because Pico wouldn’t be able to come. Darnell didn’t want to leave his partner alone. At the same time though, Darnell knew bringing someone new to the family dinner would lead to questions. A lot of questions.

Who is this person? What do they do? How long do you know each other for already? Why haven’t we heard of them before? Do they have a partner? What about you, Darnell?

Darnell, are you gay now?

Not that his family was bigoted and intolerable towards queer people. After all, Pico was out and never hesitated to show off his boyfriend Keith. Same for Nene, telling people of her identity like it was no big deal. None of the Hodges have ever said a bad thing about the two for either of these things.

But neither were actually part of the family.

If Pico had been ‘kicked from the family’ for dating guys, it wouldn’t affect him seriously.

If this happened to Darnell, he would lose connection to probably all of his relatives. His parents, siblings, uncles and aunts, cousins, grandparents.

CJ could only imagine how scary this must be for him. They reassured Darnell that it would be okay for them to keep quiet about their relationship for a while longer. That for this first meeting, it would be alright to pretend they were just close friends and give him more time for figuring out how safe it would be to come out to his family.

While Darnell was already used to the sight was CJ almost overwhelmed to see how heavily decorated the Hodge family home was. Not just from the inside, but the front yard was very impressive too. It was clear that a lot of time had been spent on decorating.

Darnell wanted to take another deep breath before entering, but Karen opened the door before he got the chance for it.

“Nelly, darling! C’mere!” She laughed excitedly and pulled her son into a tight hug. Once she let go of him again turned Karen to look at the new guest. CJ tried their best to smile naturally, despite feeling like their boyfriend’s mother was about to judge them for their appearance. Sure, they were already used to people judging them for this. And even though their outfit was rather neutral and formal compared to their usual style, they couldn’t help but worry about making a bad first impression.

Her smile didn’t disappear for even a second though. It even grew a bit wider when looking back at them, opening her arms up for another hug. “Welcome to the Hodges, honey!”

CJ greatly underestimated her strength when accepting the offer. They had to suppress a loud choking sound and keep their gasps for air afterwards quiet.

“Come on in, the others want to get to know you too after all!” She chimed before turning around to head back into the living room. Darnell just grinned and soothingly rubbed over CJ’s back as they were still trying to catch their breath. “Do you hate me yet for bringing you here?”

They shook their head, chuckling weakly as they slowly stood up straight again. “I could never. A warning would’ve been nice, though.”

As the couple left the cold outside to warm up indoors instead noticed CJ the plethora of sounds. It was a wild mix of Christmas themed music, chatter, laughter, and excited children squealing. Occasionally, the sound of heels on wooden floor also got muddled up into the ambience noise.

Darnell walked ahead, letting his partner follow behind him. He didn’t mind acting like a decoy, he knew that CJ didn’t want to be the centre of attention for such a large group of new people. Their private self was far from being as confident around strangers as their stage persona.

Luckily, all of Darnell’s family first greeted him before each introducing themselves to his ‘friend’. However, CJ still struggled to tell the twin sisters apart. Their outfits were just too similar, almost like they wanted to cause confusion.

Overall, there was a nice atmosphere in the home, and CJ actually enjoyed getting to know all of the Hodge family. But after a while, they actually preferred to go into the kitchen to be with just Darnell and Karen. She was busy cooking a large meal, though it was mostly done already, giving her more room to get to know the young guitarist.

“So.. you’re one of Darnell’s new friends?”

“I mean, if.. two years counts as new to you, yes.”

Karen gasped almost offended, “Two years? Nelly, why am I only getting to know them now?!”

Darnell sunk a little into his chair and shrugged. “I’m not twelve anymore, I don’t come here just to tell you about all the new people I met..”

The sight of his embarrassed, slightly reddish face was adorable to CJ. They rub his shoulder a little as comfort and try to redirect the conversation to something else. “Your house looks amazing, Mrs Hodge. It must’ve taken a long while to decorate this all.”

“You have no idea, I was probably streaming a whole week, three hours each day,” Karen sighed dramatically and swung her wooden spoon around before using it to stir one of the pots again.

The mention of streaming made CJ furrow their brows. “Mom posts a lot on insta ‘n stuff,” Darnell explained in a low and almost raspy voice. “Also livestreams when she decorates for Christmas. Kinda became a tradition.”

That certainly impressed CJ. Not only was Karen a housewife, she also found the time to tend a social media presence. Now that they knew this, the decor of the house did remind them of the typical Pinterest style.

She hummed in response to her son’s words, like she was confirming everything he said. “That’s right. It’s a lot of fun for sure, not just sharing my ideas, but also chatting with people in the meantime.” Karen paused for a second, contemplating something before shaking her head with a grin. “Do you live around here, CJ?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m living by myself since last year, a couple blocks away from Nells.”

“And Nelly, Pico has a boyfriend now, right?”

Darnell looked over at her confusedly. “Yeah, why?..”

“Then you both could just move together! If Pico moves to live with his partner?”

CJ and Darnell’s eyes grew wide, staring at each other like they were trying to figure out if they’ve been caught. Karen shrugged with her back still turned to the couple, “I mean, if you two already spend a lot of time together, that would be perfect! After all, Lucas and Susan moved together too.”

“Mom, Lucas is married, and he has a daughter. CJ is my friend.”

“And so is Pico, yet you both already share an apartment.”

While the two were arguing back and forth was CJ still trying to process everything. Something didn’t feel right, Karen must be doing this on purpose.

Darnell eventually huffed, crossing his arms almost like a stubborn child. He refused to say anything more, just to end this conversation. But his mother took this as a win, grinning to herself almost mischievously. “Also, CJ?”

“Huh?-“ they blink a few times as they try to snap out of their thoughts.

“Did you know your instagram account isn’t set to private?”

It took them a moment to figure out why she would bring this up. “Why is that-“ Then realization hit them. Thinking that only their closest friends could see their posts, CJ had uploaded some of their favourite pictures together with Darnell. Their entire face turned red as Karen finally looked at the couple sitting in her kitchen. Her hands rested on her hips, and the knowing smirk on her face had become an unamused expression.

“How long did you plan on hiding this from me, Darnell?”

Karen always called her kids by some type of nickname when talking to them. But when she was genuinely upset, she would use their first name. Though it was still better than hearing his full name from her. That would be the equivalent of a death sentence.

Regardless, just hearing ‘Darnell’ was enough to make him nervous. “Mom, I just..” Karen raised her eyebrows as she waited for an answer. The noises from the other room were still ongoing, yet he couldn’t help but feel like he was stuck in an awkward silence. “I was terrified of telling everyone... especially dad, and even more so today.”

Darnell was growing quieter and avoided looking at either of the two in the kitchen with him. It hadn’t happened a lot since getting to know each other, but for the few times CJ had witnessed their boyfriend behaving this way, they couldn’t help but feel bad. They turn back to face him properly and took both his hands in theirs as a silent comfort.

Karen knew her son well enough for her to tell that he was genuinely scared about this for who knows how long. She eventually sighed, relaxing her shoulders before walking over and letting him rest his head against her. “Hun, why would you think that we’d get upset over this?”

“I didn’t want to disappoint you.. Lucas is like, everything you want for us. And I thought if I didn’t come home with a girlfriend, then you’d think I did it out of spite..”

Although his face was half buried into Karen’s side by now, CJ could still see a slight glimmer of tears trickling down Darnell’s cheek. Their heart sank immediately. This wasn’t the first time they had seen them cry, but it was the first time he was crying around them because he was actually upset. Not from an emotional movie scene. Just genuine fear and worry.

CJ didn’t notice that they were also starting to tear up until Karen gently held their shoulder and let them lean against her for comfort as well.

“Nelly, you could never disappoint me,” she eventually spoke again in a soft voice. “Especially when you’re happy.”

“But I wouldn’t be livin’ like Lucas then..”

“Oh baby, you absolutely can if you want. We don’t live in the 70s or som’. If you wanna marry them, then nobody would stop you. You wanna raise kids? There’s plenty of ways to adopt.”

As much as they were glad to hear Karen comforting their boyfriend, they couldn’t help but feel just a tad uncomfortable. CJ definitely loved Darnell like no one else, but marriage never was a thing they ever wanted. Just the thought of ever marrying someone made them feel nauseous. But now was absolutely not the time to say this, not when Karen was trying to reassure Darnell.

Her words seemed to be effective, seeing how Darnell soon wiped away the tears and sat upright again with a wobbly smile. “Thanks, mom. This really helped..”

“Of course, Nelly. Now, do you two wanna help me bring our dinner to the table? I don’t wanna leave anyone starving after all,” Karen pointed at the pots on the stove with a little grin. The couple nodded and soon after got up to help her carry everything into the living room. Nobody was aware of the emotional moment they were just in, so all the remaining family had to say was how they couldn’t wait to finally dig in.

Once everything was ready sat everyone down around the large dining table. Susan and Lucas tried to have their daughter Angela quiet down as the rest awaited Tyrone and Karen to have a toast as they did every year. “We’re glad to have you all gathered here with us to celebrate the holidays. While all of you are growing older and more independent, it is always a joy to spend time together again. “On this holiday, we are happy to see new faces that let our family grow. The Hodge family has an open door for everyone after all.” Karen smiled at Darnell and his partner, to which CJ smiled right back and nodded their thanks to her as Tyrone continued the little speech.

“And when you have something as wonderful as this, there is nothing else to wish for.” He looked around the table at his family, feeling very much pleased and accomplished for building a life that lead to this moment. “Christmas is the season of giving, and I already have gotten my gift,” his wife then continued for him. “It's the best gift I could ever ask for, having you all here, happy and healthy. That being said, I wish for us all that next year will be just as joyful as this has been. Now let us celebrate!”

The table clapped for the two, even Angela tried to smack her hands together like everyone else despite not knowing what for. She did, however, understand that it was time to eat right after though and squealed excitedly as her father Lucas got up to prepare her a small plate.

As the meal was being distributed among everyone present set the same chatter back in as earlier. Darnell was happy to talk and laugh with his siblings like they all still lived together, like nothing had changed over the past five years. Seeing him like this, no longer panicked but just enjoying himself, made CJ happy themself.

Although he didn’t tell all of his family yet why CJ was actually sitting at the dining table with them this year, it certainly was good to know they weren’t a complete secret anymore. Darnell would still take his time with coming out to his father and siblings. But having his mother know already made it a lot easier, especially since she supported him wholeheartedly as she always did.

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randomestfandoms-ocs · 6 months

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You Signed Up For This Prompt List

Prompts for You Signed Up For This by Maisie Peters (+ a few bonus singles), practice good reblog karma and sent a prompt or two to the person you reblog this from

And I am sorry to make it about myself again but you, you signed up for this

Please don't give up on me yet

I know I'll get better, I’m just not better yet

Scared of everything but I'm making it punk

A small towner, I only drink to get drunk

I was so in love, and that don't come off in the wash kinda hope it does though

You're seeing someone pretty and I hate her guts, so

We were bad but we're gonna be good

And I resent you just a little if I'm honest

And I swore that I'd swallow my pride, and you swore you would do better this time

At least I'm trying

One for being lost and alone in your early twenties

One for being obsessed with someone who puts you secondary

One for calling guys with guitars in a cemetery

I want a sorry but I'll settle for a handshake

I'm the baby but I'm gonna be the bigger man, babe

Cause you're awful and I miss you and I killed you in my dream

It's a low when even in my dreams you still don't want me there

You might be awful like all of the time, yeah it's almost inspiring

This wasn't how it's supposed to go, I should be the one you're dancing with

It's not like I've been crying, no, there's just smoke in my eyes

Cause this ain't no John Hughes movie where the girl gets the guy

I keep waiting for the heartbreak music that's never gonna come

Cause if you don't want me then you're not the one

Everyone told me so, don't wait around for you

Guess I misunderstood, thought you liked me too

We went swimming in an outdoor pool and you wouldn't tell a soul at school

I'm just fifteen, I just want you so that's cool

But I don't swim and you're not in love

And you only kissed me after midnight in an outdoor pool

It's the worst day of my life but it's all good

I'm crying and it's ruining my makeup

I wasn't eating and you still said nothing

Now it's coming up roses, kicking up snow, what a long winter, what a bad joke

Love him, I did for a minute, but I'm finished 'cause I've learnt

You kept me as your favourite secret and I thought we just took it slow

I feel like you feel nothing, that's fine

Now that I'm over that hill, you wanna say how you feel

And you've got a girl but you still call me psycho

You made me feel so useful then so used

All your exes found me and so beware, we’re all friends now, maybe you should be scared

You're a serial cheater, 'you up?' text repeater

When I told you you were funny, I lied

You had a couple of exes and I know that they let you get away with it

If I was the last girl on earth you'd still be weighing up your options

She tries to get closer, so you go and ghost her

You're obsessed with your father, red flag and a half

I nearly buried the hatchet then I remembered how you messed with my head

I could be a grown up but baby, you know what maybe I'll release this song instead

I wasn't broken till you tried to fix me

I'd rather see love as an optimistic than know the things that I know now

You're the one that got away and you got away with a lot

They say it's better to have loved even if you lost bt I can tell you it's not

Cause I feel hollow

Now you're kissing that girl I shouldn't worry about, how do you think I'm dealing?

I'll burn this house, I mean it

Well, what does that make me then? I'm your villain

Now I'm drunk and I'm mean outside your house

Whole town's gonna hear how you messed me up

Sister I missed this

If you're looking for the girl of your dreams, she's in Brooklyn with me

"He's fit, go for it", but we wouldn't ever leave a sister behind

And if you wanna take her out, you're gonna have to ask me first

Come on, have you seen those eyes? It’s nothing but the best for her

I miss you already

You gave it all and I gave it up

Late nights in the old arcade, drinking cheap wine as Elvis plays

You were always on my mind

I was scared to throw my heart off the edge, easier to tell myself we'd mess it up instead

But I still wish things were different, don't you?

I can't stop, even if I wanted to, talking to strangers about you

And when I say "I'm sorry," baby, I'll be bluffing

All or nothing, you chose nothing

Thought I'd be a cool girl but turns out I'm livid

Bet you hope I'm done but there's no way I'm finished

Oh, you got away with it, you crossed then burnt the bridge

You pulled a lot of shit, I sat and bit my lip

Everybody knows that a breakup is better when there's someone to hate

But now everything is through, it’s you I wanna call though

I got busy and you forgot how to miss me

You are one tough act to follow

People don't leave people if they really are in love

I was good, just wasn't good enough

Nothing more frightening than a woman scorned

Baby, if you thought that I was trouble then you're gonna hate what's coming next

Is that an angel? No, it's your ex

Woah, I'll fuck your life up as a blonde

I'm gonna make your friends say "Man, you messed that up!" and I would have to agree

You'll rue the day you did me wrong, I’ll put your name in all the songs

I'll twist the knife, it will be fun, fucking your life up

Pinky promised that I wouldn't love somebody if they didn't

They're tortured and I wouldn't understand it

Plus they got a lot of unexamined father/son baggage, they don't wanna talk about it, is that a challenge?

Funny I could pick 'em in a line up, pretty certain I could do it with my eyes shut

I think "You're so cool and different," and then the law pulls up and you won't get in the car and I'm like, "Oh, goddamn, not another rockstar"

Talk about me, make it all about you

You'd leave me dead if it'd set you apart

Aren't I lucky 'cause he could have chosen any girl to fuck with? And he chose me, so I guess I should be grateful

A little self-obsessive and I sign up, where's the pen? Where's the line?

Glad that I got out before it got dark

You could be a better person, no, it's not hard

If there was a moment in this where you saw it goin' different, tell me what part

#ask game #my ask game #prompts #prompt list #my prompts

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sirowsky · 2 years

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Wrong Way Home

Marcus Pike One Shot

Author's Note: Rewritten and updated in March 2024. This was not supposed to be such a self-portrait, but it really is. It's completely self-indulgent and I make no apologies. I wrote this for myself, because I needed it, but maybe someone else needs it too.

Description: You pick up a stray and decide to help him get to where he's supposed to be. A decision which ends up having lasting implications.

Rating: Mature themes 18+ONLY Warnings: Female reader with no detailed physical descriptions but hair long enough to be put up, and it is implied that reader is smaller than Marcus. Driving, animals on the road, cursing, blizzard, hazardous road conditions. Reader is a carer and therefor prone to self-sacrifice. Meet cute, fluff, lovingly meddling mother, angst. Word Count: 18,280 (5590 words added) Author's Masterlist

Two consecutive blizzards had dumped almost three feet of snow on your hometown, in the space of just one week, and now a third one was bearing down on you, expected to drop at least another two feet. You were used to bad conditions, having grown up there, but it was just as cumbersome and inconvenient each year, no matter how well prepared you were. Everything took three times as long and absolutely anything requiring you to set foot outside, meant getting cold and wet, regardless of how well you dressed.

Thankfully, the city council and road authorities were also used to it and had all their resources in the streets, day and night, to try and manage the frozen masses that were trying to bury you. They had urged all citizens to keep off the roads other than what was necessary or unavoidable, but you were a good driver who knew how to handle snowy roads and bad visibility, and you had a good car too.

So, when your mom had asked you to help her clear some snow in front of her house that Friday, to make sure the winds couldn’t push it up against her front door, you hadn’t hesitated to make the drive over. She was retired and had badly arthritic hands, and while she was good at managing on her own most of the time, there were certain things she just couldn’t do anymore. You’d made her stay inside while you’d battled against the winds and the whirling snow for a good two hours, until you’d cleared enough of it that she’d hopefully be able to get her door open in the morning, even if it kept snowing all night.

Once you were done, you stepped inside to keep her company for a while and get yourself warmed up. You were sitting by the little table at the kitchen window, sipping tea and looking out on the storm, talking about the latest things to have happened in the family since the holidays that had come and gone. Your mother knew that the depth of winter was hard for you, because the lack of sunlight made you depressed, and did her best to keep the mood light, but she could tell that you were more than ordinarily tired today.

“How was work this week?”

“It was okay. You know how it is, it’s stressful and hard, but fun and rewarding too,” you said, and she nodded thoughtfully, having been a nurse herself as well.

“Yeah. Thanks for coming today, I know how much you need your weekends off to rest your mind.”

“It’s not your fault that the sky is falling down, mom.”

“No, I know, but I just want you know that I appreciate it. You always come when I call, and I wanna make sure you know that I try not to take that for granted.”

“Thanks for saying that, but I’m happy to help,” you tried, but even you heard how false that sounded, so you chose a different angle which was more truthful. “I need a kick in the ass to keep myself from never leaving the apartment until spring. Besides, shovelling snow can be really therapeutic too.”

“I suppose that’s true. Will you stay for dinner?” she asked, no doubt angling to try and keep you around longer, but likely also in the hopes of paying you back for your troubles.

Had the roads been in better condition you would’ve stayed, but saying you wanted to get going so you wouldn’t have to be up all night to dig yourself out if you got stuck somewhere, would only worry her.

“No, I think I wanna get home and shower. How about tomorrow? I assume there’ll be more snow to wrestle with by then,” you offered instead, and she seemed pleased with that.

“Sure, sounds good. I do have one more favour to ask, though.”

You smiled and shook your head a little, before taking the last swig of your tea.

“You always do. What is it this time? Don’t tell me you went and bought something on some online flea-market again, cause I’m not picking up some odd chair or a pair of socks on my way home, not in this weather.”

“No, no, it’s just the Christmas tree, if you could help me get it up to the attic?”

You couldn’t hold back the sigh which pushed past your lips at that. The plastic masterpiece weighed a ton, and the narrow steep staircase to the attic required some delicate manoeuvring, which should be interesting when your muscles were already spent from your battle with the snow. But your mother knew you’d still do it, which was why you didn’t feel bad about the sigh.

“Fine. But that oldest brother of mine is bringing it down again next season, mark my words,” you griped, fully intending to text him with your demands as soon as you got back home.

She just smiled and took both your cups to the sink, while you got up and went to work on the eight-foot beast of a tree.

Half an hour later, just after 3pm, you were back in your car and making your way through the small village where your mother lived, mentally mapping the ten-mile route to get to your apartment, trying to think which roads might be best maintained. The wind was howling and tearing at the car, even at low speeds, and visibility was awful with how much snow was being pushed around out there. It was a minor miracle that you even spotted him.

He was little more than a shadow against a dark background, but his movements caught your eye and once you took a closer look, you got worried and slowed down further before reaching him. He wasn’t anywhere near dressed correctly for this weather, wearing the kind of coat that looks good but isn’t particularly warm, and suit-pants, suggesting a full suit under the coat. But nothing more. No thermal clothes of any kind, not even a hat or proper gloves. His shoes were under a foot of snow, but you’d bet anything that it wasn’t gonna be boots.

On top of that, he was carrying what looked like an overnight bag and a generally confused body-language, leading you to the conclusion that this was either the most unprepared tourist you’d ever seen, or someone who was seriously lost. You came to a stop right next to him, but the windows were frozen shut, so you waited for him to take the hint, until he opened the passenger side door but politely only poked his head inside.

“Hi, can you help me, I’m completely lost?”

An American. That was unexpected, but thankfully your English was excellent, and you’d finally get a chance to use it.

“Get in, you’ll freeze out there.”

He did as you’d said, and sat down, cramming the bag down on the floor by his shiny shoes which were absolutely packed with snow. You turned the heater up to maximum and then started driving again.

“I need to keep moving or we might get rear-ended by someone not expecting a car standing still in the middle of the road in this weather,” you explained, while he took his thin leather gloves off and put his trembling hands against the warm air fan in the centre consol.

“That’s okay, I don’t have a clue where I am anyway. Thank you so much for stopping,” he said through clattering teeth, so you reached underneath his arms for the button to start the heater in the passenger seat.

“No problem. Where are you supposed to be right now? Cause, no offense, but you’re dressed for a dinner-party, not a blizzard,” you said, quickly looking him over while executing a turn.

You noticed that he had an attractive profile, but since his looks weren’t much of a priority at the moment, you refocused on the driving.

“I flew in this morning, and we were supposed to land in the capitol, but the runways weren’t cleared of snow, so we got diverted to an airport around here and I was told that a bus was gonna take me to a hotel. But it just dropped me off here and I can’t find any hotel,” he explained, before apparently deciding that his hands were warm enough now to start digging some snow out of his shoes.

“Yeah, that’s because this is a tiny village on the outskirts of town, literally the end of the bus-line,” you clarified, and then set about trying to work out the rest of his story. “But if you were headed for the capitol, you’re about a thousand miles north of the mark. Was this really the only airport with an open runway?”

“We got diverted twice, actually. So, yeah, it would seem so. I was originally supposed to take a connecting flight to a different small airport which I can’t remember or pronounce the name of, but it was somewhere in the middle of the country,” he recalled, and then abandoned his efforts with his shoes and started turning his bag around. “I have the ticket, hold on a second…”

He dug around in the bag for a moment, opening a few different compartments before finally pulling out an envelope and handing you one of the tickets from it. You took quick glances at it, trying to keep your eyes on the road as much as possible since it kept disappearing on you, until you saw the name of the airport.

“Oh… that’s bad.”

“What? Why?” he asked, and in your periphery, you could see his head turn to focus on you, while the rest of him froze in his seat.

“Two reasons, primarily,” you started, while wrestling the car out of a deeper segment of snow which was trying to bog it down. “Firstly, because that’s about four hundred miles to the south of us. And second, because that city is home to one of the best hospitals in the country, which is why the airport prioritizes medical transports before all commercial flights, and there’s only one runway. Basically, it’s closed during bad weather, for everyone but air-med.”

“Oh… yeah, that is bad,” he concurred, and he sounded very sad about it.

“What time are you meant to be there?” you pressed, hoping to figure out if there might be some way to help him.

“I’m supposed to hold a class at the police academy there, first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Wait, you’re a cop?” you blurted out, genuinely gobsmacked, but then you instantly backtracked, feeling bad about it. “Sorry, I don’t mean to sound so shocked, it’s just that I really thought you were a politician. Or possibly a salesman.”

But he just chuckled warmly at your very honest reaction, and something pleasant crept along your spine at the happy little sound.

“No, that’s okay, I get it. I don’t look much like a cop because I’m an FBI-agent,” he elaborated, and you smiled as the pieces clicked into place.

“Ah. Suddenly the suit and coat make perfect sense.”

You answered him while using your right hand to gesture flimsily towards his less than adequate attire, and with your left hand, deftly manoeuvring the car out of a standstill at and intersection where the snow had been blown into large ridges which had to be crossed at the right angle to stop the car from getting stranded on them.

“Normally, I wouldn’t do this, I’m a field-agent, not a teacher. But the guy who was supposed to do it got sick and I was asked to fill in since I was already at the airport. I’d just stepped off a plane from London when I got the call and there wasn’t even time to go home and change before the flight here. I just wish someone would’ve mentioned that I was heading into a snowstorm before I left. There was enough time to run past the airport shops, so I could’ve at least bought a hat,” he recalled, offering a fuller explanation even though you hadn’t asked.

And while you were listening and did appreciate that he was sharing things just to help you understand his predicament, at the same time, you were working the problem, trying to think of a way to get this man to the academy on time. And you kept arriving at the same conclusion.

“A good hat is essential, for sure,” you answered on autopilot since your mind was elsewhere, which the guy seemed to notice.

“Everything okay?”

You were on the major highway by then, which was always given top priority for snow-clearance and was in a much better state than the small unploughed roads you’d been navigating almost blindly. This meant you could relax a little more, allowing you to put the finishing touches on the plan which you’d come up with.

“Yeah, I’m just thinking. And what I think is that there is a way to get you there on time.”

“Really? How?” he begged, clearly determined to do anything he could to get the job done.

“I can drive you there,” you suggested, which was apparently not what he had expected to hear.

There was a stunned pause, and then from the corner of your eye, you saw him shake his head firmly.

“No, I couldn’t ask you to do that… Four hundred miles in this weather? No way.”

“You’re not asking, I’m offering,” you countered, wanting him to at least hear you out before he shut you down. “I have both family and friends there that I could stay the night with and then drive home in the morning. I’ve driven this stretch hundreds of times, in all kinds of weather, and I’m telling you that it’s the only hope you have of getting there at all any time this weekend.”

“I’m not gonna let you risk your life for me, you just met me,” he argued, but you were undeterred.

Somehow, this just felt like something you should do. Be it a random act of kindness or an attempt to increase your own sense of self-worth by doing something that would make someone else like you. You had no idea. But you wanted to do it.

“So, because you’re a cop, you can risk your life for strangers as much as you want, but because I’m just some random woman, I can’t?” you challenged, although you kept your voice light and unaccusatory.

Glancing at him, you could tell that he wanted to retort, but that he couldn’t find a good enough argument, so he wisely kept his mouth shut instead, and you took the opportunity to press on.

“You should know there aren’t any trains here. Busses aren’t gonna drive in these conditions and good luck finding a cab driver that’ll wanna make this trip. But I’m a good driver. Good enough even that you’re probably safer with me than with anyone who chauffeurs people professionally, so just let me help you.”

He seemed to chew on that for a minute, probably thinking back on what he’d already seen of your capabilities behind the wheel, and you found yourself trying to think of ways to counter any remaining arguments he might have against this journey.

“You don’t even know me. Why would you do this for me?” he finally asked, and to be completely honest, you didn’t have a clear answer, so you chose to focus on him instead.

“Because you came all this way to do something important, even though it’s not really your job. And it’s not your fault that the sky decided to empty its bowels and shit all over your attempt to help these students, all of who I’m sure have been looking forward to this for a long time.”

There was a longer and somewhat more awkward pause then, which you hesitated to break because it felt like that might disturb his decision. Then…

“Promise me you wouldn’t be giving up better plans for the weekend if you did this for me,” he demanded, and you almost snorted with the thought, but managed to stop yourself.

Sure, it might seem like a ridiculous demand to you, since the only thing you had planned that weekend, like every other weekend, was watching tv and catching up on sleep. But he couldn’t possibly know how pathetically lonely and largely empty your life was. He was genuinely worried he might be stealing time from your regular activities, which was technically true, and you could understand why it would bother him. In fact, you were kinda loving that it did bother him, since it said a lot about this man’s level of care and appreciation for others.

“I promise,” you declared, letting all the honesty you possessed fill the two words.

“Hm. Okay, then,” he agreed, and you felt yourself getting a bit excited about taking a roadtrip with a stranger.

You’d never done anything like this before. But perhaps that was also why it felt special. There was a sense of freedom being unlocked inside of you by the mere act of doing something impulsive and maybe even a little reckless.

“Alright, but we’re making a stop at my apartment first. You need proper clothes and I need a shower and some food before we set off.”

“I’m at your mercy, good Samaritan” he surrendered, before extending his right hand to you above the stick shift. “I’m Marcus, by the way.”

“Hi, Marcus. Nice to meet you,” you replied, shaking his hand briefly but firmly.

“Pleasure’s all mine, believe me. What do I call you?”

Dang it. You didn’t really care if he knew your real name, at least not out of any safety concerns or fears that he might somehow use it to mess with you. You just felt like there was air of adventure to this whole thing. Like you’d magically jumped into the pages of a book and was getting to experience a different reality for a limited time. And it just seemed like if you were still just regular old you, the magic wouldn’t quite work, and you wouldn’t get the full experience. But how could you ever hope to explain that without sounding crazy?

“Uh… How about you just call me Sam? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not looking to hide anything, I’d just prefer it if we kept this casual,” you said instead, and then remembered another thing. “Plus… I’ve never actually liked my name.”

“You don’t owe me any explanations. If you prefer Sam, then Sam it is.”

“Thank you.”

Your apartment was small, but cozy, and you’d never been so grateful to yourself for finally having gotten to cleaning it earlier that week. Or your impromptu guest would’ve walked into a mess of dust-rats, dishes and notebooks and ongoing (but stalled) projects that you just didn’t have the energy to work on right now. The only blemish was the unmade bed at one end of the combined bedroom and living room, but you could live with that.

“Welcome to my home,” you invited him, while unlacing your boots and stepping out of them, careful to stay on the hallway carpet so all the snow that fell off them wouldn’t end up as puddles on the floor. “I’ll get some dry clothes for you to change into, or you’ll never get warm.”

While you went through your closet, which was also in the front hall, digging up the biggest pair of sweatpants you owned, along with a wool sweater and some fresh socks, unbeknownst to you, he started undressing right there in the hall. So, by the time you turned back with the dry clothes, he was in nothing more than his underwear. You were completely thrown for a moment, just staring at his well-toned, broad and somehow soft-looking body, until his shivering registered in your brain, and you quickly handed him the clothes along with an embarrassed apology.

“Eh, sorry about that…” you sheepishly mumbled and then hurried to turn away so he could get dressed in peace, although there wasn’t really anywhere for you to go to give him some privacy.

Other than the bathroom, but that felt more like you’d be trying to avoid him. Which you weren’t. Still, you did desperately need a shower.

“Um, make yourself at home. I don’t have any coffee but there are teabags on the counter if you want a cup. Feel free to rummage through the kitchen for anything you want, I just really need to clean up. I was shovelling snow for a few hours earlier today,” you rambled with your back to him, way more nervous than you had reason to be.

“I’ll be okay, you do whatever you need to do,” he assured you through the shivers, making you feel even worse about objectifying him.

The least you could do was grab him a nice warm towel from the bathroom, and hand it to him so he could dry himself off thoroughly before putting on the borrowed clothes.

“Right, well just shout if you need anything else,” you said, trying to ease your own guilt, before locking yourself away where you could properly scold yourself.

You’d meant to make it quick, just scrub yourself clean of the old dried-in sweat and put some conditioner in your hair, but once the warm water spilled over your back you couldn’t bring yourself to hurry. You’d always loved water. Your favourite part of summer was being able to go to any lake and just dive in and swim, gliding through the soft cool mass as though a part of you belonged there. Almost as though it was a haven to you. A way to drown out the rest of the world and exist only in whatever imagined world you chose for that moment.

The shower worked differently, though. It served as a substitute for the warmth you missed around you when you went to bed each night. It served as a substitute for every massage you’d meant to get, but never had. And it served as a substitute for the punching bag you’d never replaced after it broke, helping you bring your feelings to the surface so you could deal with them. Provided you had the strength for it.

This day was no different to every other day, and the water did what it always did, keeping you under the spray until your muscles had warmed, your skin was flushed from the heat, and your mind was calm. But you’d forgotten to bring clean clothes into the bathroom with you, so you wrapped yourself with a towel and stepped over to the closet to get some.

You never faced that direction, so you didn’t notice Marcus sitting by the kitchen table, at the side which had a clear view of the hall, or that his eyes lingered on your bare legs while you stood there by the closet. Although, if you had known, you wouldn’t have minded at all. You’d been the one ogling him just half an hour earlier. Besides, there was something very comfortable about him which you couldn’t quite name. Something quiet and unassuming. Humble but still confident. You’d barely been around him yet, but you found yourself feeling drawn to him, and that was a very rare thing for you.

He joined you in a quick meal consisting of spaghetti with a tomato, ham and basil sauce, which he praised with what seemed like unnecessary enthusiasm, but then, he had been half frozen an hour earlier and a warm meal would be close to heaven after that. While you ate, you took the opportunity to study his features a little closer, getting more intrigued the more you noticed about him.

He had a slight scruff of a beard around his jawline, and a thin moustache, both of which only added to his attractiveness, which wasn’t true of all men. He was slender, but also thick somehow. The laugh-lines around his eyes were well defined, so this was a guy who enjoyed himself, despite what you were sure had to be a trying job, and the one dimple on his right cheek was the cherry atop the cake.

But more than all that, he was charming. Not in the kinda sleazy way that the men you’d encountered on your few dates in the past years had been, with that undertone of wanting something in return. Marcus was charming in the more classic sense, almost a bit old-fashioned, and it was the most endearing quality about him thus far. Because it made him feel so genuine and earnest, something you’d never seen in any man, at all.

He insisted on helping you clean away the dishes before you left, so that it wouldn’t be sitting there waiting for you when you came home from what was probably going to be a tough drive. Before leaving the kitchen, you grabbed some raspberry muffins from the freezer to bring for the journey, in case you needed something to nibble on, before once again digging through your closets to find some thermal clothes for your travel companion.

He was taller than you and significantly broader over the shoulders, but you were an outdoorsy kind of person and had several different set-ups of clothes for different activities. He had no problems fitting into your snow-mobile coveralls, which were a few sizes too big for you so that you could fit about four layers of clothes underneath. And you had special boots to go with it, that were also too big, and you didn’t have petit feet to begin with, so those worked for him too.

Making sure you had everything you needed, you locked your door and stepped back out into the blizzard, with your guest closely on your heels. You’d only been inside for about ninety minutes but that was enough for the car to have several inches of snow on top of it already, so you started by sweeping it clear and making sure you had full view out of all windows, before getting in and settling into your seats for the drive.

“It’s almost 5pm. How long do you think this is gonna take?” Marcus asked while you reversed the car out of your parking spot.

“On dry roads it’s about a three and a half-hour drive, but in this weather, it might very well be twice that. So, make yourself comfortable.”

“I’m paying for all the gas for the roundtrip,” he declared, to which you just shrugged.

“That’s fine with me, but this car’s got good mileage so don’t expect any astronomical costs.”

“Good, I’m on a government salary, which is in no way astronomical,” he chuckled drily, but then continued with a much warmer tone. “Can I just say, you seem really at ease behind the wheel, even in these conditions. I’d be terrified driving in this, I can barely even see the road.”

“I was born and raised here, and I’ve lived right here in this town all my life. I learned to drive in conditions like these. Which is why I know to always have a shovel and bag of sand in the trunk, in case I get stuck. And why there are flashlights, a knife, and high-visibility-vests in the compartment between our seats. Oh, and there’s a large box in the trunk, full of tools, straps, oil, WD40 and coolant, as well as a spare battery.”

“Where you a girl-scout, Sam?”

“I was, for about a year when I was like seven,” you admitted, and he snickered. “But when you’ve been stuck in a snowdrift in the middle of the night on an empty road, with no mobile phone and no shovel, you know what to bring the next time there’s risk of it happening again.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I feel even more confident about your abilities, knowing that you’ve gotten it wrong before.”

“Why would I take that as anything but a compliment? How else would I know what to do?” you countered, feeling good about yourself because driving was one of the things you truly were confident about.

“What did you do? In that particular incident, I mean.”

“I dug the car out as best I could with my hands and feet, and that car was an automatic, so then I stood in the doorway with one foot on the throttle and the other on the ground, using my back as a brace and then rocked the car backwards with each touch on the pedal. It took a while, but eventually I got it free and drove home.”

“And what did your back have to say about that?” he said, while crossing his arms over his chest, having clearly already figured out that you could be quite cruel to yourself if the occasion required it.

“Oh, it complained,” was all you gave him, which probably only further piqued his interest.

“I’d imagine so. But now I’m curious. What other jams have you gotten yourself into?”

“Uhm… Well, the only really bad one I can remember right now, was when I sprained my ankle while out on a run. I know that might not sound like the most dangerous situation, and I suppose it wasn’t really, but it’s one of the most painful experiences of my life. Again, I had no phone on me, and this happened just as I was turning back, so it was on the part of the run that was furthest from home, about four miles, and it really was a bad sprain. I could hear a tendon snap when it happened.”

“Ouch…” he grimaced, you could hear his sympathetic teeth-grind within that one expression.

“Yeah. I tried to walk on it for a bit, but once the swelling set in, it was impossible. But I was in the woods, so I found a fallen branch and used that for a crutch to walk all the way home.”

“Where I assume you called an ambulance?” he pressed when you didn’t say anything more, since the story ended there, as far as you were concerned.

“No. I bandaged the foot and put it on ice over-night.”

“Wait a minute, you didn’t see a doctor?”

“It wasn’t broken, so what I did was exactly what they would’ve done.”

“How did you know it wasn’t broken?” he argued, and you stifled a sudden urge to roll your eyes at him.

“Because I examined it thoroughly before bandaging it.”

“Are you a doctor?”

“No, but I’d sprained the same ankle once before, falling down some stairs, so I knew what it felt like,” you explained, and saw him start to react to that, so you hurried to shut him down. “Besides, I’d never call an ambulance for anything that wasn’t life-threatening. If I’d felt it necessary to get it examined, I would’ve driven to the emergency room myself.”

“With a potentially broken foot?” he was almost stuttering now, with how upset he was getting.

“It wasn’t broken,” you persisted, and he sighed heavily.

“Wow…”

Strangely, you found it a bit amusing that he was getting so riled up about stuff that had happened years ago and hadn’t caused any lingering damage to you, so when you remembered another one of these incidents, you decided to share and see how he’d react.

“I was once kicked right in the kneecap by a horse, while riding another horse. That was a fun one,” you offered, and in your periphery, saw him dip his head forwards and rub his forehead for a moment.

“You’re gonna turn out to have a lot of these stories, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know, I never remember them until I start talking about them.”

“And that’s precisely why you keep ending up in those kinds of situations, because you’re not committing them to memory.”

“I won’t argue with you there. I just don’t see the point in dwelling on past mistakes.”

“Fair enough,” he conceded. “That does sound awful, though. Please tell me you went to the hospital that time?”

“Of course not, I had to get the horse home and take care of it,” you explained, and by now he was turning in his seat so that he could glare at you when he replied, almost upset enough to scream at you.

“Oh my god! What’s wrong with you? Give the horse to the other rider and call for help. Or did neither of you have a phone that time either?”

“There were four of us, actually, and we all had phones, but we didn’t call anyone. We rode back to the stables, very calmly, and I hopped around on one leg while taking care of my horse, since everyone else was busy taking care of their horses.”

“Unbelievable…” he breathed, slumping against the backrest and shaking his head.

“Not really,” you countered, feeling the need to stand your ground on this one. “That’s actually one of the major character traits of all equestrians. We learn to do everything by ourselves, because chances are, no one’s gonna be there to help us if something happens, so no matter how much it hurts, we soldier on. The horses can’t take off their gear or go get grains for themselves, so we have to do it, it’s not a matter of choice. It’s what we signed on for when we got the horse. We get it done, and then we worry about ourselves.”

“Yeah okay, I get that, and it is admirable. But there were other people there that time, you could’ve asked for help.”

“True. But I didn’t. And it gets worse, because when I was done, I went home and cleaned up, wrapped the knee with ice and then went to drive my sister to a doctor’s appointment because she was pregnant.”

He just stared at you for a few beats, and you could see his mouth open and close a few times as he tried to find the words.

“You-…? I don’t even know what to say…”

“Relax, I did get the knee checked out the next day and nothing was broken,” you reassured him, and he seemed to find it easier to breathe then.

“Amazing. Are there x-rays to corroborate that?”

“Well… No. It was a friend who looked at it. But a doctor friend. Kinda.”

He sighed again, even deeper this time.

“Absolutely astonishing,” he chided, and then seemed to think of something. “Just to be clear, if we should crash, you would call an ambulance, right?”

“Of course, I would!” you automatically snatched your head around to meet his eyes for a moment as you retorted, but he just raised his eyebrows in mock disbelief, daring you to tell the whole truth. “I mean… I’d probably insist that I was fine and make them take care of you instead, but I’d definitely call.”

“Alright, let me guess; you work in the medical industry in some way? You’re a caregiver,” he concluded more than guessed, and you nodded.

“Nurse.”

“Yep, that’s what I thought. Well, now I’m upset, so why don’t we change the subject.”

“Why are you upset?”

“Because you obviously don’t value your own life very much, which is a terrible mistake, but I can’t possibly convince you of that so let’s just talk about something else, before I start screaming at you.”

He punctuated the last sentence with a sharp huff, and you suddenly got the sense that he wasn’t only the sparkle-eyed sweetheart that he appeared to be. There was something very protective and powerful inside of him, the kind of something that made you wonder what he’d do if someone were to harm a person that he loved.

“Fine,” you brightly agreed. “Do you wanna go back to talking about the weather?”

You talked about a lot of things while the miles and hours slowly ticked away, and the muffins grew fewer and fewer. He had dozens of questions about the country, its politics, military and police, most of which you didn’t know that much about. But you had family in the military, so you ended up talking about that for a spell, which then led to spending the next two hours talking about your family.

You had a big one, which fascinated him, and he laughed himself silly at some of the stories you told him from old family dinners and parties that had gotten completely out of hand. Usually due to the older generations among your relatives, most of whom were competitive, fun-loving, and slightly bonkers.

“I need to meet these people someday; they sound absolutely delightful,” Marcus announced once he’d settled down from the worst of the laughing fits.

“Well, that’s a hell of a thing to say to a girl you just met,” you teased, but he just turned on his charms in response.

“Well, it’s a hell of a girl.”

That made you crack a wide smile, but you still felt the need to confirm whether he was being cheeky or slightly rude.

“Ordinarily I’d take that as a compliment, but this one could go either way, I feel.”

From the corner of your eye, you saw him smile back at you.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare insult you, Sam,” he answered, with a voice of pure honey, prompting you to suddenly need to change the subject before you’d begin to struggle concentrating on the damned road.

“You know, it’s funny, the more I hear you call me that, the more at home it feels to me. I was exaggerating a bit before, when I said I don’t really like my given name, but it’s not a lie. I don’t hate it; it’s just never felt good to me to hear it.”

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. You could always change it.”

“Wouldn’t do any good, my family would still use the one I grew up with. Not out of disrespect, just decades worth of habit. No, I think I’ll let “Sam” belong to you.”

“I kinda like that. Having my own version of you, in a way,” he said, once again letting his voice drop, but this time, you were too distracted to be affected by it.

While he’d talked, you’d moved your right foot away from the throttle and over to the brake, because something felt off about the pattern of the snow whirling in front of your headlights. Visibility was only a few yards ahead, so you were creeping along to begin with, but took the precaution of slowing further, choosing to trust your intuition and experience, which turned out to be wise.

Out of seemingly nowhere, there were suddenly two reindeer in the middle of the road, and you stopped completely.

“Whoa…” Marcus tensed, but then quickly relaxed again as he realized you had the situation under control. “How’d you know they were out there? I didn’t see them at all…”

“The snow gave it away. Some manner of obstacle was upsetting its flow from the left. It might have been just a tree, but there’s always the risk that it’s something moving, so it’s always best to slow down and make sure.”

It was a small herd, maybe ten to fifteen individuals, and they were just crossing the road, not moving along it, as reindeer were often lazy enough to do, so you waited for them to pass, keeping your hazard warning lights on in case another car approached from behind.

“Impressive. If I had any doubts left about your skills as a driver, they’re all gone now,” he commended, following the animals with his eyes. “I’ve never seen reindeer for real before. They’re beautiful.”

“Yeah. We tend to just pass them by, annoyed that they’re so often on the road, and happy not to have hit them, but we rarely get the chance to just look at them.”

Once the deer had moseyed their way across the road, you set off again, noting that the clock had passed 11pm by then, meaning you’d been driving for six hours straight. It didn’t feel like that much time had passed, though, and you weren’t the least bit tired.

A part of you didn’t want the journey to end, but you recognised the lit-up intersections you passed, so you knew that you were getting close, and it made you sad. It had been a long time since you’d felt this comfortable with anyone outside of your family, and more than that… Damned it, the guy was cute and caring and polite and respectful and you didn’t wanna let him go, knowing you’d never see him again.

Men like him didn’t exist in your country, and if they did, they were taken already. You would’ve given anything for the chance to get to spend more time with him, to get to know him and figure out if the tingly feeling in your stomach was what you thought it was. People called it butterflies, but it felt more like those sparklers you used to light on New Year’s Eve when you were a kid, and you hadn’t felt them in a very long time. God, you’d missed them.

“Hey, are you okay? You’ve gone all quiet and sad looking all of a sudden,” he observed, and even that was enough to increase your dread, because it meant he could already read you really well.

“Uh, yeah, I’m okay. Just got lost in my head there for a moment. Sorry.”

“No need to apologize, but I hope your head is a more fun place than your face was suggesting just now.”

“It is, for the most part. But I have depressing shit in my life too, like most people. However, I’m not in the mood to get into that. We’re getting close to our destination, so if there’s anything else you’re wondering about this lovely little country, you’re running out of time to ask it.”

“The country – no. But I’d like to keep talking to you anyway.”

“Okay,” you said, trying not to let that hopeful twinge in his voice go to your head while you searched for something to talk about. “Then tell me more about yourself.”

“There isn’t that much to know. I spend most of my time at work, and any free-time in between I go running or read or watch something on tv.”

He’d already told you about his work in more detail, but beyond that, you hadn’t really had a chance to ask him about himself. He’d kept you busy with talking about yourself instead, which was starting to feel like he might be avoiding the topic of Marcus, now that you thought about it.

“Family?” you prodded, but he shook his head.

“None left. Except an uncle I’ve never had any contact with.”

“You’re not giving me a lot to work with here. Should I go into favourite things instead? Food, movies, authors… like that tells me anything about you.”

He chuckled a little.

“I’m just not really that interesting. I’m a good cook, friendly company, reliable and honest, I like simple things and I have little patience for excessive drama. But I’m flattered that you’d like to know more about me.”

Why did that make you blush? You weren’t the sort to turn tomato red, but your cheeks and neck heated, and you were sure that he could tell.

“There’s little else to do in a car with a handsome stranger,” you deadpanned, hoping he’d take it with a slice of humour.

“Handsome? Are you hitting on me now, Sam?” he grinned, so you feigned indifference with a theatrical shrug.

“What good would that do when we’re just five minutes from your hotel?”

He saw through your deflection, though, in the smile which played around in the corners of your mouth, and decided to push you for a more truthful answer, while the now fully lit main street was passing by behind the blur of snow outside the windows.

“I guess that depends on how hard you’re hitting,” he said softly.

Inviting you to take the bait and run with it, all but promising he’d reel you in if you did. And really, what did you have to lose at this point? He was about to disappear, so what did it matter if you embarrassed yourself?

“I’m out of practice so I’m sure you can’t tell, but… I’m hitting as hard as I can.”

He didn’t answer that, and you had to focus on the road even more now when you were navigating the half-ploughed and slightly confusing roads of the inner city. So, you didn’t look at him until you’d reached the hotel and stopped at the curb. He was staring at you with a simultaneously warm and sad expression, one which you recognized all too well.

“And now you know why I looked sad earlier,” you offered, and suddenly he seemed unsure, getting fidgety and moving his gaze from one place to the next, as if he was looking for something outside the car.

“I… um… I really like you Sam,” he finally said, turning the sparklers inside you into fireworks. “If I didn’t have to get out of this car now, I wouldn’t. I’d stay in here and drive around with you all night, if I could.”

Something inside you yearned for that to be what happened next, but you also knew it wouldn’t be, so you buried those wishes and just offered him a smile which didn’t quite manage to reach your eyes.

“It is what it is. I’m happy to have met you, Marcus.”

“Likewise; and thank you so much for your trouble. How much do I owe you for the drive?”

You gave him the approximate sum of the gas consumed on your way there, and he gave you double what you’d asked for, keeping his promise to reimburse you for the roundtrip. He took off his seatbelt, then for a moment, he hesitated in his seat. It looked like there was something he wanted to say, but he held it back with a deep sigh and moved to open the door, just as a thought hit you.

“Hey, wait. This airport might be closed all weekend, in which case you’ll still need to use the same one you landed on, so take my number, just in case you need a ride back.”

You quickly jotted down your number and handed it to him before he could object, watching with a tiny sense of hope as he carefully placed the note in his inside breast pocket.

“I only have two classes tomorrow morning, so my flight back was set for 2pm. But if the airport’s closed then I assume that’ll get changed around. How long will you be here?”

“I’m gonna stay at a friend’s place, and she’s free all weekend so I can stay as long as I need to,” you explained, wondering if you sounded as desperate as it felt like you did.

“Okay. I’ll let you know if I need your help.”

“Good. And good luck with the class.”

“Thanks. Seriously, thank you for this.”

“It was entirely my pleasure.”

He smiled again, making your insides dance, and then he opened the door, and the blizzard suddenly came charging into the car, prompting him to hurry through collecting his bag from the backseat, before disappearing into the lobby. You told yourself that you stayed there by the curb, watching until he was out of sight, just to make sure he didn’t fall and hit his head on the way. But in truth, you just didn’t wanna leave him.

The six-and-a-half-hour drive down the coast had seemed to pass in a flash, but the fifteen-minute drive to your friend’s apartment felt endless. You hadn’t told her you were coming or asked if it was okay that you spent the night, but she was the kind of friend that would only be happy for the surprise and the company. And even if she wasn’t, you had a few other people in this city to ask to house you for a night, so you weren’t worried. The only thing that worried you that night, was the thought of never seeing the handsome American again.

--=¤=--

You woke up late the next morning, having stayed up with your friend for a while, to explain what had brought you there in the middle of the night, and answering her enthusiastic questions about the mystery man you’d driven so far for. The first thing you did when you woke up was to check your phone for messages and being disappointed to find no notifications of any kind.

But it was only 10am, he might still be at the academy, or he might still be trying to organize his return trip. You tried not to dig a hole of despair for yourself over a man you’d just met and had little chance of actually getting to know, much less have any kind of future with, but your heart wasn’t doing a great job of listening to reason that morning.

You went to the kitchen and started cleaning up what was probably all that week’s dishes from the sink, just to keep yourself busy, and then made breakfast. It was all ready just as your friend came strolling in about half an hour later, understandably confused as to why her dishes were all gone, and all the flat surfaces were glistening.

“Did you clean my kitchen?” she sleepily wondered, just as you put the finishing touches to your cup of tea.

“Yeah. Needed something to do.”

“Cause of Marcus?”

You just nodded while she sat down opposite you at the kitchen table, digging in to the food you’d prepared.

“You okay?” she asked, knowing you rarely ever got nervous about guys.

“I honestly don’t know. All I want is just to see him again, talk to him, listen to his voice…”

“Oh, honey. You’re falling headfirst, aren’t you?”

“Too damned fast and way too hard,” you admitted, doing your best to reason with yourself, even though you knew it wouldn’t make any difference. “I mean, it’s not like it could realistically go anywhere, he lives on the other side of the fucking world.”

“I don’t know, stranger things have happened,” she winked at you, completely undermining your attempts at reasoning.

“Please don’t give me hope.”

“Sorry,” she said, but her knowing her little grin didn’t go anywhere, and in the next second, your phone rang.

You momentarily froze, feeling adrenaline flood your body and your heartrate more than double in the space of just one ring. But then you saw the caller ID.

“Hey, mom. Are you snowed in yet?”

“No, the winds have changed, so it’s actually been blowing away from the porch all morning,” she happily chirped, and suddenly you felt bad.

Not about being unable to help her with the snow, but about not joining her for dinner as you’d promised. She couldn’t really go anywhere alone in the winter months, even in the best of weather conditions, so she relied on company to come to her, which is why it always bummed her out when plans fell through.

“Oh, that’s good, because I don’t know if I can come see you at all today. I ended up taking a trip yesterday. I’m having breakfast at Anita’s right now.”

“You drove all that way in the blizzard alone? What on earth for?” she asked, but she didn’t sound as disappointed as you’d expected.

“I wasn’t alone, actually, I kinda picked up a stray. It’s a long story, I’ll tell you about it the next time I see you.”

“I look forward to hearing it. Are you driving back today? Cause the roads are just as bad still, I heard on the radio this morning that they’re having trouble keeping even the major roads clear, and this relentless snowfall isn’t predicted to let up until Monday.”

“Uhm, it might be today, I’m not sure yet. But you know I’ll drive carefully,” you assured her, hoping the reminder of your calm and cautious demeanour behind the wheel would help her to worry a little less.

You’d taken her on road trips throughout the country during the summers, for many years now, so she was well aware of how responsible you were.

“Okay, well I just wanted to let you know that I’m good for now. I’ll call your brother if I need any help,” she reassured you in return, which took a lot of guilt off your shoulders.

“Great. I’ll let you know when I’m back.”

“Stay safe.”

“Always.”

You ended the call, and nearly dropped the phone when the lock-screen reappeared and there was a message notification. In the mere second that the fingerprint scanner gave you a hard time about the precise placement of your fingertip you nearly had a panic attack, scaring Anita into dropping her sandwich. But then it unlocked, and you opened the message.

<Hi, Sam. Hope you slept well. I’m told I will need to fly from your airport again, but they had to shift things around a little, so I won’t be leaving until Sunday. Can I take you up on that offer for a ride back?>

You felt like doing cartwheels in the living room, or just jumping up and down like a hyperactive kid, but you managed to keep to just smiling and squirming a little where you sat. Anita was kind enough not to give you the third degree right away, and once she’d recovered from your nervous outburst, just sat there eating quietly, although with a shit-eating grin on her face, while you typed out your reply.

<Hi. I slept fine, thanks for asking. I’d ask how the class went, but I’d prefer to have that topic left for the drive, since it’ll be another long one. This weather isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Which is also why I think it’s best if we get going today. Maybe after lunch?>

You hit send and then forced yourself to keep eating your oatmeal while you kept glancing at the screen, counting the seconds until you saw a new message appear in the stream.

<I’ll be ready whenever you need me.>

Shit. Why did that make your heart feel like someone had their hands wrapped around it, and squeezed?

<Okay, I’ll hit you back when I’m ready to go.>

He sent a happy smiley-face back, and that’s when Anita couldn’t shut up anymore. She launched into a serious interrogation which lasted almost an hour, bleeding into conversations about past relationships, fears you’d had and things you’d learned since then, as well as defining what your feelings really were, here and now. And afterwards, while you were cleaning up the table and washing the new dishes you’d dirtied up with your meal, you found yourself grateful for her questioning.

Because even when your feelings didn’t make much sense and even though the conversation didn’t make you feel any less confused, talking about it with a good friend was still comforting. It made you feel less emotionally constipated, and you were able to laugh and enjoy the rest of the morning with her, talking about a range of subjects far removed from your non-existent love life.

And when it came time to go you were suddenly regretting the decision to leave so early, wanting more time to just talk and be relaxed without any underlying stress. But your decision to set off in good time wasn’t just because you were eager to see Marcus again. There were practical advantages to leaving in daylight and having a big margin for error in case something happened along the way, putting him at risk of missing his flight.

You promised Anita that you’d keep her in the loop on what happened over the rest of the weekend, and then set off back to the hotel. You’d notified him that you were on your way and found him waiting in the lobby, darting outside the moment he saw your car arrive at the curb once more, and you were ridiculously happy just to lay eyes on him again.

“I see you haven’t had time for any shopping since last night.”

You were in such a good mood you just had to tease him a little about still wearing your clothes, even though, oddly enough, it all looked better on him. Even the short dash between the building and the car had left him covered in snow, and he playfully ruffled the borrowed clothes in your direction, sending a slew of cold droplets all over you.

“They get the job done, and that’s good enough for me,” he smiled roguishly, apparently just as happy to see you too.

“Thanks a lot, now I’m cold,” you accused, but jokingly.

“Want me to warm you up?” he said, twinkling his eyes at you, but no doubt oblivious to what he was doing to you in that moment.

The words made you literally gulp. Because while he was just being playful and jovial, the mere suggestion was enough to fill your head with images, sounds, and other sensations, all of which had a very real effect on your body, far beyond that of butterflies, sparklers or fireworks.

“It would seem you already have,” you tentatively replied, unable to take your eyes off him.

For a moment, he looked a bit confused, until he seemed to realize what you’d meant by that, and… Was he blushing? He ducked his head and was suddenly very concerned with folding his gloves, looking down on his own hands in what could’ve been deep concentration, if not for the size of the grin on his face.

“Hm. Good,” was all he said in response, his voice brimming with either pride or satisfaction, and frankly, he was too fucking cute for you to call him out on it right then.

You buried the insistent itch to ask him to explain himself, since that would probably just lead to insufferable awkwardness, which you didn’t find all that desirable at the beginning of such a long drive. Checking your mirrors, you drove away from the curb and started mapping the route out of the city center in your head, while looking for a non-awkward topic to break the silence.

“So, how was the class?”

“A lot more fun than I’d imagined, actually,” he quickly responded, as if he was relieved you’d let him get away with his little flirtation, and dove into the longest reply he’d thus far given to anything you’d asked him. “They were really engaging and asked so many smart questions. The right kind of questions, you know? They didn’t get stuck on asking about me personally, or trying to take the FBI down a notch, they didn’t even give me the usual ‘Americans think they’re better than everyone else’-speech.”

“Huh… Are you sure you were in the right room?” you mocked, to which he just huffed bemusedly, and then carried on.

“They asked about procedures, about how we apply various methods of incursions to specific situations, and how we take on complex investigations, coordinate between departments, or even different bureaus, and across all states. I told you that I work with art-theft and forgery, mainly, and our methods don’t apply to all departments of the bureau, but they didn’t place any focus on that. They just tried to take as much knowledge as they could get, and I really hadn’t expected to walk away without being ridiculed at all.”

He finished on a note of incredulity, which you found surprising, so you tried to offer him a different perspective on how those classes might have viewed his visit.

“Well, if it had been me sitting there, I know I would’ve been grateful to someone who had come all that way just to talk to my class, and not wasted time being a prick about it,” you said, which he took a few beats to consider.

“I hope that’s how they all reasoned as well. It would give me so much hope for the future of this country to know that all those students had such a sense of cooperation and good perspectives.”

“Yeah, me too.”

You were both quiet for a bit then, while you navigated the trickier intersections of the outskirts of the city, where there were no redlights or roundabouts and visibility was jack shit. For the most part, you just carefully drove into the intersections and hoped that no one was gonna come blasting through and T-bone you.

“So, where’d you end up sleeping, if you don’t mind my asking?” he picked up the conversation once you were clear of a particularly gnarly section, probably hoping to help you relax by talking about something else.

“A friend’s couch. She was really happy to see me, even though I showed up well after midnight, covered in snow and-…”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hang on,” he cut you off, and he sounded upset now. “You mean you drove for almost seven hours straight only to then spend the night on a couch?”

“Sure,” you shrugged, genuinely not seeing what the problem was. “No matter who I’d gone to, I would’ve had to sleep on a couch. No one I know has the economy to have a spare room just sitting there unused in case of visitors.”

“Damned it, Sam…” he sighed, although it could’ve been a growl, it was so deep. “I’m the reason for all this inconvenience you’ve put yourself through. If I’d known you didn’t have a bed to sleep in, I would’ve paid for a hotel room for you.”

“Which I would’ve declined and taken a couch anyway. I told you; this is not the first time I’ve made trips like these. And I slept just fine, don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried, I just feel bad that I can’t possibly repay all this kindness, and you’re sure as hell not making it any easier for me.”

Now it was your turn to sigh, and then try and find a way to explain why this was simply not an issue to you.

“Marcus… Around here, we’re used to handling ourselves and we’re very used to things being less than comfortable a lot of the time. I know you think that you’ve come along and completely upset my life this weekend, but I promise you, you haven’t. Just two years ago, I made a trip almost exactly like this one, for no better reason than that my mother wanted to go to her latest grandchild’s first birthday. The only real difference was that on that occasion, the return trip was the same day, and I had to get up to work the next morning. I’m glad I got to sleep at all this time.”

“Hold on, you mean you drove some twelve hours in a blizzard just so your mom could say congratulations to a one-year-old who wouldn’t even remember that she visited?” he asked, clearly bewildered. “I mean, I get wanting to see your grandkids, but not in a whiteout storm, for pete’s sake.”

“Oh, but it gets better,” you added, recalling something else about that trip which had made it one of your least favourite of all time. “It was eleven hours of driving for a two-hour visit, and we nearly got run over by a 24-wheel truck that spun out on black ice.”

You didn’t dare take your eyes off the road to see how he reacted to that, but you also didn’t need to, because his silence spoke volumes.

“Okay, I’m gonna need to talk to your mother,” he finally decided, sounding most adamant about it, which brought the humour back to you.

“I thought we’d already established that we’re nowhere near ‘meet the family’-status on this highly temporary relationship.”

“Maybe not, but I still need to talk to your mother.”

You just shook your head at him, but with a soft smile in your frame. It truly did warm your heart that he had such care for you, even though he barely knew you. And while that was probably just the kind of person he was, and not something he did exclusively for you, it was still a very attractive part of his personality, and again, something you hadn’t seen a lot of in the men you’d known.

“I’ll try and fit you into her overwhelmingly busy schedule,” you joked, but his reply sounded sincere.

“Thank you.”

It left you feeling a bit bad for him, although you weren’t quite sure why. It was almost as though he was upset that your life had never been easy, or that you’d had to face so many difficult things on your own, having had no one to even ask for help most of the time. But you didn’t wanna think about that, and he remained quiet, so you tried to think of something to ask him which might tell you more about his everyday life.

“So, art-theft and forgery. Somehow, I can’t picture you doing that. If you’ll pardon the pun.”

“I’ve always had a passion for art,” he replied softly, as if the mere topic soothed him. “But after doing military service in my twenties, I realized there was more I could do for my passion than just look at it. And now I protect it.”

Christ in a fucking cartoon... Could this man be any more perfect? He had to have some massive, ugly flaw. Something had to be wrong with him, he couldn’t simply be this walking talking embodiment of a paragon, he just couldn’t.

“Okay, look… I need some clarification here, because based solely on what you’ve told me about your life, I’m assuming you’re single. And I just have to ask: how is that possible?”

He laughed lightly at that, and it sounded like a soft purr, but maybe that was just how your ears perceived it through the haze of infatuation which you were at serious risk of drowning in.

“Your assumption is accurate, but as for the how… I’ve come close once or twice, to the real thing. But it’s just never been good enough. Whether because of me or circumstance, I honestly couldn’t say, but I’m still alone so something must have been missing. I wish I knew what it was, I really do.”

He sounded so sad by the end that you were sure he’d had his heart broken badly, and maybe not too long ago. You didn’t like hearing him sound like that, so you were about to change the subject, but then he turned it on you.

“You’re single as well. Do you know why?”

“Um, I know parts of it,” you started, trying to buy yourself an extra second to think about whether you should get into this or not.

Because you actually did know. You were far too aware of what the obstacles to your own happiness were. The question was whether to burden someone else with them, or just keep things light since it probably wouldn’t matter much in the end anyway. The thing was, that you really did want Marcus to know you.

“I know it’s hard to meet people when you keep to yourself almost all the time. I know I’m scared of going on dates, because I’ve had some bad luck in the past. And I know I’m reaching an age where I’m perceived as less attractive, which messes with my confidence no matter how much I try to ignore it.”

“You’re very attractive,” he interjected, and while that did feel wonderful to hear, especially from him, one person’s opinion wasn’t enough to scrub away all the previous evidence to the contrary.

“Thank you. But I’m also head-strong and patient, which is a deadly combo. And I’m determined to the point of idiocy, as you’ve already discovered, so if I set my mind to something, I’ll do it, no matter how much it costs me in the end. And I suppose… maybe that’s my downfall.”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean… I tend to dive in headfirst, and not care that I’m supposed to come up for air at some point. Whether it’s work, or family, or friends, I only have one setting. All or nothing. I’ll run myself into the ground before I let my patients or my loved ones come to harm, even if it’s due to something that isn’t my fault or even my responsibility. And when I love someone, that’s everything to me. I won’t change myself to be what someone else thinks I should be, but I will destroy myself to get to keep that person. I’ll hide my pain until it breaks me, if that’s what it takes, which is precisely why it never works.”

He didn’t seem to know what to say, which was pretty much what you’d expected. Because what could anyone say? Damned it, why’d you even tell him that? If anything it would just make him less inclined to want to be a part of your life, in any capacity. You were both quiet for a while after you fell silent, which you were thankful for when the Saturday afternoon traffic kicked in, and you were suddenly navigating a maze of half-hidden red brake-lights and barely visible indicators, every time you passed a village or town.

“Why are so many people out and about in this weather on a Saturday?”

Marcus was trying to help you keep an eye on the cars behind, so that he could warn you if someone wasn’t keeping a safe distance, and a momentary lull in the winds revealed a long line back there. He was half turned in his seat, angled towards you but with his head turned to the back window, since it was easier for him than to try and see through the side mirror, which was set to your line of sight.

“Some are those who work on the weekends, with too far to travel to be able to walk, and therefor don’t have a choice because all public transport is cancelled,” you replied, keeping your focus on the closest car in front, since it was only when it was breaking you could make out how far ahead it was.

“And the rest?”

“The idiots who think they’re better drivers than they are, or that driving in two feet of snow is a piece of cake. I swear, some of these boneheads actually think that roads magically plough themselves every hour on the hour.”

“You mean they don’t?” he gasped theatrically, grasping at his chest in feigned indignation. “The impertinence…!”

You felt certain he was trying to relieve the tension left by your earlier conversation, as well as the stressful traffic situation, by making you laugh. And it worked, prompting you to play along.

“Indeed. Has no one informed these roads that the great Agent Marcus is travelling on them today, and that they should be on their most accommodating behaviour?”

“It would seem not, and I’m frankly offended at the disrespect on display here today. These roads ought to be ashamed of themselves,” he carried on, playing the role of an outraged aristocrat to perfection.

However, your laughter died out when a loud bang sounded from somewhere in front of you, and the closest car suddenly stopped. You stomped on the brakes and the clutch-pedal and felt the ABS and traction control system work hard against your right foot, to keep the wheels from spinning while grinding you to a halt, just a few feet from the car in front.

The sudden stopping force pulled Marcus forwards in his seat, but he was still half-turned to the side, held in place by the now taut seatbelt. On instinct, before you’d even come to a complete stop, you reached your right arm over and forcefully pushed his right shoulder back against the seat, so that his back and neck would be straight if a car hit you from behind, which would minimize the risk of whiplash. Thankfully, all the drivers behind you seemed to be alert that day, and no impact came, so after about fifteen seconds you let go of him and turned to look at him instead.

“Are you okay?” you asked, watching his movements closely to try and see if he’d managed to tweak his neck anyway, but he seemed to be able to move freely.

“Yeah, are you?”

“I’m fine. I’m gonna go find out what happened, you stay here,” you ordered, but which he mistook for a suggestion.

“I’ll come with you,” he tried, unbuckling himself.

“No, you won’t,” you sternly admonished, while slipping your arms back into your jacket. “Marcus, I mean it, stay here. I need to know you won’t get yourself turned around out there.”

“I have been outside in a blizzard before, Sam.”

“I’m sure you have, but you don’t know this landscape,” you continued, putting on your hat, scarf and gloves. “It’s a lot easier than you think to get disorientated here. This is farmland, which means everything’s flat and white, and there are no natural landmarks like mountains around. All of which means you can’t tell how far you’re walking and can suddenly find yourself hundreds of yards from where you started even though you think you’ve only walked a little bit.”

He wasn’t keen on staying put, you could tell. This was obviously the kind of guy who didn’t sit on his hands and wait to see if shit would sort itself out. He was used to being the one who checked things out and gave the all-clear. Not a control freak, but someone who liked to know all the variables, to be aware of all potential dangers, even if he wouldn’t necessarily be the one to deal with them. And while you respected that, you also knew he’d be out of his depth here.

“Promise me that I’m gonna find you right here when I come back,” you demanded, meeting his worried eyes with steely determination.

“Okay, I promise. But please be careful,” he begged, helping you to get your gloves to fully cover the ends of your sleeves so the wind couldn’t slip past.

“I will. I’ll check it out and come right back.”

The windchill and sheer force of the air that hit you when you quickly stepped out of the car, was like a punch to the gut, even through the layers of clothing. It was so strong that it felt like your lungs were being compressed if it hit you from the wrong angle. And it was so cold that the tears it immediately spurred to fall, threatened to freeze your eyes shut from how quickly they froze.

Within ten minutes you’d assessed the situation and returned to your car, but that was enough to make you breathless with the mere effort of remaining upright. Not to mention that every inch of your face which had been exposed to the elements, was covered in frost.

“It was a moose… crossing the road… startled a driver, who hit the brakes… and got hit from behind by a car that was too close,” you explained while trying to catch your breath and get the hood and collar of your jacket down, so it wasn’t obscuring your mouth.

“The moose made it?” he asked while he helped you.

“Yep. Lucky bastard… Fucking hell, it’s bad out there. I nearly got blown over twice.”

“You look like you’ve just tried to sprint against Bolt.”

“I feel like it too. It’s incredible, it takes everything you’ve got just to keep yourself upright.”

You were covered in snow and ice which had already begun to melt in the warmth inside the car, so you started shedding the jacket to keep the water from seeping into the seat, before letting the gloves, scarf and hat follow. Marcus took them one after the other and draped them over the backseat to dry, while you drank some water and worked on slowing your pulse down.

“Do we have to stay and talk to the police?” he wondered once he was done, and you’d gotten your heartrate down to below a sprint.

“No, the drivers of the two cars who were involved are gonna do that. We didn’t see anything that would be in any way helpful to a potential investigation, and there didn’t seem to be any animosity between those two. I just need to catch my breath for a second.”

“Of course, take your time,” he offered, but you saw him check the windows around the entire car to make sure no one else seemed to think you were obstructing their way. “This isn’t the first time you’ve been in a situation like this, is it?”

“More like the tenth… These kinds of things happen all the time here. So long as no one gets injured or dies, it’s a good day. And hey, even the poor moose made it, so this was a very good one.”

You smiled at him, and he reciprocated, but then something unsure seemed to creep into his features. And the longer he looked at you, the more it seemed to affect him.

“What?” you prompted, getting worried he might be experiencing pain or discomfort.

“I just…” he started, but then paused, as if he didn’t know how to express what he was thinking.

He turned away from you, looking out through the front window, at the car that still stood there, just a few feet away from your bumper, and his brows knit together.

“You hadn’t even stopped yet,” he said in a low, almost incredulous voice, but you didn’t understand what he was getting at.

“I’m not following…?”

Turing back, his eyes found yours, and his were somehow both steel and the smoothest liquid, while yours were just confused.

“You reached out to protect me even though you hadn’t gotten the car to stop yet.”

Ah. Now you understood his expression. This man was a protector at heart, and as such, he would struggle to accept that other people might sometimes need to put him first, every bit as much as he probably always did everyone else. But you were a carer, which meant you were more than a protector. You were a defender. A shield and a weapon, to anyone who might need either.

“Yeah, because if a car had hit us with you sitting like that, you could’ve broken your spine or neck or both,” you argued, surprised at his lack of reaction to the incident as it had happened. “Why didn’t you adjust yourself? Don’t they train you to be able to think rationally in situations like that, at the FBI?”

“Yes, but I wasn’t concerned with myself.”

“Well, clearly I was,” you countered, which seemed to upset him.

“Sam-…” he tried, but you cut him off.

“You should buckle up, I wanna get going. It’s getting dark and traffic is still gonna be bad for another hour or so,” you said, all of which was true, but had little to do with why you didn’t want to hear him out.

You’d cut him off because you knew he’d say something like you shouldn’t risk anything on his account, shouldn’t inconvenience yourself in any way, especially since you’d already done so much for him. But you didn’t care about any of that. And you suspected he could tell where your head was at, at least to some degree, because he didn’t argue, although you could tell he wanted to.

You just couldn’t have this conversation. One way or another, it would inevitably lead to you confessing how much you liked him and how badly you wanted him to stay. And aside from the fact that you were scared of admitting that, even to yourself, he also shouldn’t have to hear something like that when there was nothing he could do about it. Once you were clear of the accident site, you grasped for the first topic that came to mind, to try and alleviate the now pressing silence inside the car.

“So, tell me about Washington D.C,” you suggested, and he obliged, albeit with a quieter tone now, as if he was disappointed with you for some reason. Or perhaps just… sad.

The further north you got, the worse the roads were, and it wasn’t until four hours later, after a total of almost eight hours behind the wheel, that you finally rolled into your parking-spot outside your apartment. You turned the car off, unclipped the seatbelt and slumped forwards, resting your elbows against your thighs and rubbing your eyes in the hopes that they’d stay open long enough for you to get inside without walking headfirst into a wall.

“Well done for getting us back in one piece, Sam. That was horrendous.”

“Mm. Welcome,” was all you replied, too exhausted to bother going for full sentences.

“Just one thing… Am I sleeping on your couch? Because I don’t see any hotels nearby,” he gently wondered, clearly aware that you were of a somewhat fragile state of mind right then, but also needing to know if there was any plan in the works which he just hadn’t picked up on, or if there was no plan at all.

You pulled your head back up and stared bleakly out the front window for a second. You’d driven home more or less on autopilot, already so used to having Marcus next to you that it didn’t even register in your brain he might need to stop somewhere else. With a groan, you slipped the key back into the slot and tried to mentally prepare for another thirty minutes of driving.

“Sorry, I completely forgot…” you mumbled, doing your best to blink the gravel out of your eyes while you fumbled to reach the seatbelt.

But while you tried to remember how to work the belt, he suddenly swiped the car key.

“No, you’re way too tired to drive anymore tonight. I’ll take your couch and you won’t have to pick me up from anywhere tomorrow. I promise I’ll behave.”

You just groaned again, letting the belt roll back, not even trying to argue because all you heard was that you wouldn’t have to drive anymore.

“Not sure I will…” you heard yourself respond to him, although you weren’t sure what exactly you’d meant by that.

You were too busy trying to remember how to get your jacket on to notice the surprised but wishful look on his face when he heard that, though.

He had to help you stay upright against the winds while you made your way to the apartment, and once inside, he insisted that you eat something before you passed out. So, as soon as you’d gotten out of the thermals, he made you an omelette and then sat there with you to make sure you ate at least half of it before he let you brush your teeth. Once you’d crashed into bed, he tried to tuck you in, but you shooed him away.

“I can’t sleep in clothes, I choke myself. Go away so I can undress…” you grumbled, and he went back into the kitchen without protest.

You heard him busy himself with dishes while you wrestled underneath the duvet with the tight wool garments you always wore closest to your skin in cold weather. It took longer than it should have, but eventually you got them off and let them drop to the floor by the bed, closely followed by your sports bra. Once you were done, you let the fatigue take over, feeling your body turn heavier by the second, and you expected to drift off to sleep in no time.

But you weren’t used to having people around you in your apartment, and despite your exhaustion, you couldn’t stop your brain from trying to listen to every little thing he did. Through a haze of almost-sleep, you heard him make something to eat for himself as well, or perhaps just reheat the leftover omelette, and then clean that away before taking a quick shower and finally settling into the couch.

By then, your inner thermostat had apparently decided to just stop working, leaving your feet ice cold, which in turn made all of you feel cold. You started battling with your duvet to try and get it around your feet, but once you managed to get your impossibly heavy legs to perform the correct movement, you suddenly weren’t comfortable in the position you were lying in anymore, and started turning to find a better one, having to start over on the feet.

“Sam, are you okay?” Marcus asked quietly from his spot on the couch. “I thought you were asleep already.”

“I’m cold. Should’ve showered before bed,” you grumbled, before once again shifting yourself around to try and find a comfy setup.

He was quiet for a good ten seconds, and just when you thought he wasn’t gonna say anything more...

“Want me to warm you up?” he repeated his little jest from before, although this time it didn’t sound playful and jovial.

It sounded like he was really asking if you wanted him to join you in the bed.

Well… shit. Now you were fully awake. By the same time the next day he’d be gone forever, and you wondered if it would be more painful to lose him after having been intimate with him, or if never knowing what that felt like might be even worse. You weren’t sure if he was even offering that. It felt like he was, but you didn’t want to assume.

“I’d appreciate that,” you eventually said, just as quietly, but he didn’t get up right away.

“Are you sure?”

“If you’re warmer than I am right now, then yes, I’m sure.”

You heard him rise from the couch and walk over to the bed, and then stop to remove some item of clothing, you weren’t sure what, before you felt a rush of cold air on your back when he lifted the duvet to crawl in behind you. The bare skin of his chest felt downright toasty against yours, and you couldn’t help but lean into his warmth. He felt so solid. So reliable. If only there was some way for him to stay. He wrapped his arms around you and let his bare legs follow the contour of yours, not even flinching when he felt your icy feet against his warm ones.

“How can you be this cold under a duvet this warm?” he asked, and he sounded happier now, with a surprised little chuckle in the back of his throat.

“I have no idea… I think my thermostat stopped working.”

“Does this feel better?”

His low voice right behind your ear was like a damned aphrodisiac, making you shiver with the pleasant sensation that ran down your spine. Thankfully, he assumed it was due to your current frozen state, and just tugged you deeper into his chest. You couldn’t find the words to tell him how good you felt right then, but your silence seemed to make him nervous, so he tried to relieve the tension.

“I am a fix-it kinda guy, but thermostats are a little out of my league,” he joked, seemingly oblivious to how you’d already started heating up, just from his closeness, never mind his warmth and his inviting softness.

“I don’t know that anything’s ever felt better,” you finally managed, although it seemed way too inadequate a response. “Thank you.”

You weren’t sure if the tears which suddenly obscured your vision, and the lump in your throat which made your words tremble, was the premature grief of losing him, or maybe the gratitude of knowing that he existed. Of having gotten to be around a good man, even just for a few hours, so you’d always know what to look for in the future.

Probably both. Probably a lot more than just those two things.

Maybe he noticed the shift in your energy, or somehow felt the simultaneous sorrow and joy clashing within you, or maybe he just read all of your conflicting emotions through that slight tremble in your voice. But whatever the case, a moment later, his moustache tickled the back of your neck, and then his soft lips pressed against your skin. Once, twice, three times. And you knew that it was an invitation, just like you knew that if you turned around and met those lips with your own, you’d never want to taste or feel any other lips, ever again.

--=¤=--

The next morning arrived way too fast, and you woke up feeling even more tired than you had when you’d gone to bed. His plane would leave at 9.15am, and he needed to be there at least an hour in advance for check-in, and it was a ninety-minute drive to the airport, if the roads were still as bad. So, you were up early.

Neither of you wanted to eat, so you just sat at the table and had some tea, both equally unable to find a single thing to say. You kept studying his features, over and over, trying to learn every wrinkle, every flaw, every strand of hair, as though you could somehow keep a part of him if you could just know his face well enough.

He didn’t accept your thermal clothes this time, going back to wearing his suit and hopelessly inadequate coat and shoes, all of which he’d managed to dry and freshen up while at the hotel. You didn’t argue with him. Washington would be warmer than your home. You pictured him stepping out of the airport back home, under a glistening sun over a frosty but not frozen cityscape, with the wind grabbing at his jacket and rustling his hair. And it was such a gorgeous image that even though it only existed in your head, you filed it away with the rest of your real memories of him.

The drive was just as quiet, and infinitely longer than the two previous ones had been, even though this one actually took less time than predicted, since you had the good fortune of driving shortly after the plough had been there. You stopped at the pick-up/drop-off zone, rather than park the car, and once you were idle, Marcus said something to you for the first time that morning.

“Come inside and have breakfast with me? There’s more than enough time,” he asked, but it was so much more than just a question.

He wanted more time, more moments with you. His voice gave away how desperate he was for just one more minute, he wasn’t even trying to hide it.

“I can’t. This is hard enough… I can’t sit there and…” you tried to explain, but the pain wouldn’t let you.

“No, I know. I just had to ask,” he admitted, his voice full of sorrow now as he looked out the window towards the entrance but made no move to leave the car. “I’m gonna miss you so much, Sam.”

After a minute, he turned back to look at you, and there were tears in his eyes.

“My Sam,” he added, wiping off a tear which had already fallen, from your cheek, and he was still so warm. So devastatingly inviting.

“Marcus, I need-…” you tried, but your voice broke, and you had to clear your throat before you could try again.

Because you really didn’t wanna do this, but you had to. If you were to have any chance at recovering from this somehow, there was no other way.

“I need this to be it,” you started again, forcing your voice to carry this time, even though it threatened to die on you with each syllable. “If I can’t ever see you again, then… this has to be the end. No texts, calls, chats. The end.”

He didn’t look hurt, just so heartbreakingly sad, and you wanted to leave him with some manner of hope at least.

“I’ll never be able to afford a trip over there, but if you’re ever in these parts again, I’d love to hear from you. But only if I can meet you. I wish I was the sort of person who could make do with less, but I just… can’t. It’s always gonna be all or nothing with me. I’m sorry.”

You expected him to just nod or not really respond much to that, since it was about the smallest hope that anyone could be given. But instead, he surprised you by finally sharing something deeply personal and probably painful.

“Not that long ago, I was the one who sat and watched someone important to me walk away. And here I am, doing the very same thing to you…” he said, and now it was his voice that was breaking. “Don’t apologize for being honest. I understand.”

His eyes told you that he did, and you nodded your thanks, no longer able to speak at all. He respectfully inclined his head to you in return, and then sucked in a deep breath through his nose, as if looking for courage. Then he grabbed his bag, stepped out of the car, and out of your life. And you’d never felt an emptiness like the vacuum he left behind.

From a Friday to a Sunday, he’d snaked his way into every aspect of your life, in one way or another. From a simple drive, to shovelling snow, to your family and friends, to your job and your home. Everything reminded you of him. Especially your now empty bed, the sheets of which you’d end up refusing to change for two months. Not until you could no longer smell him on them.

In the days, weeks and months that followed, the emptiness tried to hollow you out, refusing to be filled with anything else until it felt like you might disappear into the vacuum. As always, it was your mother who eventually got you out of it, by forcing you out of your apartment and out into the world and the people around you, day after day, until you could finally endure the pain, no matter how mercilessly it kept stabbing at your heart.

That was all you did, though.

You endured.

--=¤=--

“Sir, you wanted to see me?” Marcus asked as he poked his head into his supervisor’s office on a Tuesday in early June.

“Hey, Pike, come on in.”

“Please, tell me you’re about to let me know we’ve made some progress on that Renoir?”

“Sadly, no. But I did call you in for some good news,” his boss replied, although his face revealed no hint of anything positive going on.

“That would be a first, sir.”

“Well, then hold on to your hat, agent, because your request just went through,” the supervisor announced, his face suddenly breaking into a huge grin as he watched Marcus’ expression go blank with shock. “Both parties have accepted your offer.”

For a moment, the agent just sat there, unable to formulate a single word because he was too dumbstruck to understand what was happening. Then the meaning behind those sentences begun to register in his mind, and suddenly there weren’t enough words, but they still spilled out of him so fast that he couldn’t even finish a sentence.

“You’re serious? You can’t joke abo-! Sir, I know you like to pull our chains, jokes are fun-but I’m-and you know I’m always game-but you can’t do it, not with this! I need to kno-… oh, god, this can’t be real, sir, please, I need-…”

“Wow, take a breath, Marcus,” his boss tried to calm him, leaning forwards in his chair and raising his hands in a pacifying manner. “I know what this means to you, man. I’m not gonna joke about it. It’s one hundred percent real, all you have to do is officially accept.”

“I do!” he blurted out, still so emotional that he was reacting without filters. “Sorry, that was loud. I mean, yes sir, I accept.”

“Well, okay then. Consider yourself transferred. I’ll need you to stay on for your fourteen days’ notice, just to get all the paperwork in order and get your replacement up to speed, but then you’re free to fly, my friend. Congratulations.”

Trying to accept that it was real, he leaned back and took a few deep breaths, doing his best not to fall into the habit of convincing himself that good things didn’t happen to him and that this had to be a mistake. His boss had never outright lied to him, so this was legit. It was happening. Holy crap…

“I didn’t think it was gonna work. It’s been so long, and I’ve tried so many times,” he said, still breathless with the subsiding shock. Then something else the supervisor had said registered to him. “Wait… you’ve already got a replacement? How long have you known about this, sir?”

“I heard some chatter about a month ago, and the general feeling seemed positive, so I started putting some feelers out. But I didn’t know anything for sure until this morning.”

“Who’d you get?” Marcus asked, curious about it because he still cared about the work, and he wanted to be sure that the cases he was currently working on would be handed over to someone competent enough to have a chance at closing them.

“Zhang.”

“Good, she’s better than me,” he breathed a sigh of relief, but the other man looked mildly disagreeing on that point.

“Maybe, but I’m still sad to see you go. Can I throw you a party, at least?”

“Nope. I don’t have time for that, my plate just got full,” the agent smiled, finally let the truth of what he was about to do sink in. “Shit… My plate just got really full. I’ve gotta sell my apartment, figure out what to do with the furniture, get a visa…”

“And work your ass off these last few days, don’t forget about that,” the supervisor added with a warm smile, rising from his chair and extending a hand across his desk.

Marcus rose as well, and took it, shaking it strongly to hopefully convey how grateful he was, although it wasn’t nearly a big enough gesture for that.

“Right. Back to work it is. Thank you, sir. Thank you so much!”

--=¤=--

“You could be a touch more enthusiastic, honey,” your mother lovingly admonished from the kitchen, knowing you’d hear her in the bathroom down the hall where you were putting the finishing touches to your hair.

“Mom, I’ve already told you, I don’t want to go. The only reason I’m doing this is because I owe you for losing those tickets to Les Mis. That’s it. You can force me to go, but you can’t make me happy about it,” you grumbled in return, as far from enthusiastic as you’d ever been.

“Fine, be that way.”

“I will, thank you.”

You were at her house, getting ready for a blind date that she’d set up for you, which was already a recipe for disaster. But adding your bad mood and general lack of romantic openness, and it was bound to be an evening of torture. The best you could hope for, was to be either nasty or boring enough that the guy would just give up. Preferably within the first hour.

That was the goal, and you were purposefully fuelling your malcontent to that end, because you were still a carer, which meant that you were always automatically inclined to put others first, no matter how much you tried not to. Your only hope was to be so angry by the time you got there, that the guilt you’d inevitably feel after the date was over, wouldn’t matter to you.

You stepped out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, throwing her a cold glare when she tried to compliment your look, before picking up your purse to make sure you had everything.

“Where are my car-keys?” you asked her, having checked the jeans you’d arrived in and knew you’d left the fob in when you’d taken them off. “I left them in my right-hand side pocket, and now they’re gone.”

“Yeah, I took them,” she happily shrugged, and you huffed in exasperation.

“Mom…”

“You’re not driving yourself tonight. Look outside.”

“Don’t tell me he sent a car? I don’t believe this…” you griped while moving to the window, but sure enough, there was a shiny black Mercedes out there.

Well, at least it wasn’t a fucking limo. You were still not getting into it, though.

“Give me my keys.”

“Not tonight,” she persisted, and even though you knew that it would probably be pointless, you had to try and persuade her, because this was hard enough as it was.

“I don’t drink alcohol, so there’s no reason I shouldn’t drive myself. And furthermore, you’re asking me to trap myself with a stranger, with no means of getting my ass out of there if he turns out to be a piece of shit.”

“He’s not, I would never set you up with someone I wasn’t sure was a good guy, you know that.”

“Honestly, I don’t care if he’s a fucking saint. I don’t even wanna meet him. You know I don’t, and you know why, so please just let me…” you tried to find the words to explain just how uncomfortable this made you, but nothing came out, so you just sighed and crossed your arms defensively. “Let me at least have a way out.”

Tears were burning your eyes by then, but you held them back. You were tired of crying, and you needed to move on. But this wasn’t the way to do it, and she knew that. Or at least you’d thought she did.

“Your brother is out and about tonight, he’s your way out, should you need it. One signal from you and he comes running,” she chirped, completely unfazed by your entirely obvious concern. “Now get going.”

You closed your eyes and took a breath, reaching for the heat of anger inside of you once more, to help you push the sadness and worry away. It still sat close to the surface, so it took only a second before you felt your pulse start to quicken and your blood heat up, at which point you opened your eyes again, and fixed her with a steely glare.

“When this little plan of yours fails epically, you’re gonna owe me for the rest of your life,” you warned, and then you turned on your toes and stomped out of her house.

You didn’t even bother to greet the polite driver as he held the backdoor of the Mercedes open for you until you’d climbed in. He drove you into town, to the fanciest hotel available, and as he held the door open for you again, informed you that your date was waiting in the bar at the very top of the building. But like a petulant child, you stayed in the car for about two minutes as you deliberated with yourself, while the driver just kept standing there, holding the door open.

You could just walk away. There was nothing and no one stopping you. It would mean a long and painful walk back to your apartment, some six miles away, but at least it was late summer and balmingly warm. In the end, it was only your promise to your mother, that you’d at least meet the guy, which kept you from turning away from the hotel when you finally stepped out of the car. But you had promised, so you walked inside and headed for the elevator.

There were mirrors covering the entire walls from floor to ceiling in there, so you checked yourself over one last time, just to make sure nothing was out of place. You were wearing a pretty summer dress which wasn’t new but still looked like it, knee-long and white, with a pattern of pale green leaves taking a chaotic route along the right side of it, getting fewer the further up they got. It was a halter neck that left most of the back exposed, but showed no cleavage at all, and the skirt fanned slightly outwards on its way down.

You’d picked flat shoes for comfort, but they matched the dress in both material and colour, and so did your small purse. Your hair was gathered in a quick and easy knot on the back of your head, and your make-up consisted of mascara, and nothing more. In short, you’d made the least amount of effort you could manage, while still trying to look presentable.

The elevator pinged, having reached its top level, and you got out, heading straight for the stairs which led up to the final floor, the sky-bar. Once you reached the top of the steps, you were greeted by the familiar window walls and wooden furniture scattered around the oval bar which took up the center of the floor. But this evening, the sun was creating a spectacle of pink and orange, which stained everything around you, creating the illusion that you were somehow standing among the clouds.

Mesmerized, you froze at the top of the stairs, momentarily forgetting why you’d come to the bar at all, until you looked around and discovered that there were no other guests in the establishment at all. You were just about to ask the bartender if he’d seen anyone, when a waiter approached you and informed you that the entire penthouse had been booked exclusively for your party for the evening and that your date was waiting for you out on the terrace.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you growled, back to being angry the moment the spell of the burgeoning sunset was broken. “Do I have to jump through hoops next?”

You didn’t even bother to keep your voice down, ranting on while you made your way across the bar floor, up the three steps and through the glass doors to the sun deck.

“It’s not enough that I have to ride his car and come to him at his convenience, now I have to go looking for the jerk too? If this is supposed to be a treasure hunt, then he had better not be the treasure at the end of this rainbow, because I couldn’t be less impr-…”

You nearly fell over when your legs stopped working from one step to the next and it suddenly felt as though they weren’t even there anymore. It was a dream, it had to be. It couldn’t be him… he wasn’t there… it was impossible. Except, he was.

A soft white button-up t-shirt hugged his tanned chest, not a single button closed. Dark blue chinos shorts covered his thighs, and the wind ruffled his hair, grown much longer than the last time you’d seen it and naturally bleached at the ends by the sun. And his eyes were so alight with joy that you wondered if you’d ever seen someone truly happy before.

“Sorry for the inconvenience. It seems to be what I do best, where you’re concerned,” he said with a wide smile, and it was that voice.

The voice which had haunted your dreams for two and a half years now. That’s what finally took all your strength away, and you dropped to the floor, struggling to breathe with how hard your heart was pounding against your chest and lungs. He was beside you in a single moment, his hands so delicate and yet so sure, just like they’d been that night.

And just like then, he pulled you into his chest, inviting you to take him, take everything he had and make him yours. You’d caved that night, too in love with him already to resist having anything he might be willing to share. And you caved now too. Still too in love with him to do anything but beg for more with soft, urgent, adoring kisses.

But in his eyes, you could see that he knew. That your mother must’ve told him everything. Because he wasn’t here to beg in the hopes that it wouldn’t be too late. He knew you were still hopelessly, madly in love with him. For a moment, your brain got stuck on the detail of how he’d even found you, much less your mother, because you’d never told him your real name. Until you realized that he must’ve seen it on the row of mailboxes outside of your apartment, and remembered it.

All this time… he’d remembered you. Thought of you. Worked to find a way back. To you.

“I’m here Sam,” he whispered against your lips, before pulling back to hold your face between his hands, as if he’d been dreaming of you and needed to remind himself you were real. “I’m here for you and I’m here to stay. Forever.”

He said it as though it had been understood from the beginning. As though there had never been any other outcome but one where the two of you were together. And you wanted to tell him how much that mattered. How grateful you were that he had apparently just never been willing to accept a life where he wouldn’t get to see you again. But all you managed was holding him tighter, kissing him deeper, wordlessly making him all the promises your stitched-up heart was already throwing at him.

THE END

Thank you for reading, and I hope you found this story satisfying <3

Tagging some lovely people who I think might like this: @idreamofboobear @deadhumourist @lucrezia-thoughts @nolanell @tintinn16 @bison-writes @tiffanyleen @sarahjkl82-blog @la-lunaluna @tanzthompson @cannedsoupsucks @toomanystoriessolittletime @sjdraws-00 @agingerindenial @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @shsoba05 @thisshipwillsail316 @f0rever15elf @dornish-queen @herefordistractions @littlemisspascal @sewmanystitchssewlittletime @ophelialoveshandsomemen

#marcus pike #marcus pike x fem!reader #marcus pike x female reader #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike one shot #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike fluff #the mentalist one shot #the mentalist #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #sirowsky stories

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ghstandpucks · 3 years

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Teacher Appreciation Part 3 ~ Nathan MacKinnon (4+1)

Here it is! Part 3 (and last) of Teacher Appreciation! I'm so thankful for all the comments and love, thank you to everyone who has read it! Let me know what you think of this part! Shout out to @cozynightscandle for asking about a part 3 and providing some inspo, as well as @avsfans95 for always letting me bounce ideas off of her!

Also, sixth grade is still considered elementary in my district, so I kept it that way for purposes of the story!

Summary: The four times Nate surprised your class, and the one time your class and Nate surprised you.

Warning: mentions of the pandemic (not the main focus, just touching on how teaching was during that time as I spent the beginning of my teaching career pretty much online)

Word Count: 4,634

Master List

Your first year of teaching sixth grade was actually more successful than you would have thought. It was a different type of bond you were able to build with your students. Instead of having to tie shoes and clean boo-boos, you became someone that your students would come talk to if they were too stressed. They told you their dreams and aspirations; all the while still relying on you to calm their fears when math became overwhelming. Long story short, you absolutely loved it. Yes, some were taller than you, and on more than one occasion Nate would lose you among your kiddos when he would come to help in your classroom. Still, you built connections that you didn’t think were possible after always working with the younger kids. Nate loved seeing how excited you were, and loved when you would come home and tell him all about what your kids did that day.

And yes, home was now with Nate. During a bad snow one evening, you were panicking about having to get back home so you could change just in case school wasn’t cancelled for the next day. Nate, off-handedly, suggested that it would be easier for you to just move in, since you were over all the time anyways; his office half taken over with craft supplies already. You agreed with a sarcastic laugh, thinking he was joking, but woke up to him clearing out space in his closet. During winter break, you officially moved in. Now it was your second year in sixth grade, and a handful of your kiddos from third grade when you first met Nate were back in your class. And if you thought third graders were intrusive, they just got worse, especially when they already knew you.

“Miss Y/L/N, could you not give us homework tonight? I have practice,” Steven asked right after the morning bell rang and you were checking over last nights homework.

“Steven, I already don’t give you much homework and you have time to usually start it in class. Use your time wisely kiddo,” you said, stamping his paper as he groaned.

“But Miss Y/L/N…”

“But nothing, do your work,” you responded, making a face at him that caused the young boy to huff out a laugh. You had only been in school for a month now, but have been having a great time with your kids. Today, the Avs would be on campus talking with the fifth graders as they do every year about the presidential fitness test. Last week when your students caught word that the hockey team would be there, half of them pleaded with you to get the team into your classroom. Little did they know that you had a different surprise planned for them. During recess, Nate ran into your classroom as you gathered your PE supplies. “Do they know yet?” he asked, giving you a quick kiss and taking the kickball from your hands.

“Not a clue,” you giggled as he retreated to his teammates and you went to get your kids from line. Leading your students into the gym as you had PE after recess, they all started to shout and jump around when they saw who was joining them. You waved as Nate came into view, accompanied by the entire Avs’ line up.

“Hi Teacher Dad!” Alexa squealed over the commotion, and you swore your face was beat red. She hadn’t used that term yet this year and to be frank, you had forgotten about it.

“Alexa,” you started as the guys laughed.

“Hi Alexa,” Nate called out, smiling at you with a look that told you not to get upset. Looking back at the girl, she sent you a sweet smile and you just shook your head with a laugh.

“You know better,” you said and she giggled. “Alright, ladies and gentleman gather around please! Today we will be continuing our game of….”

“Kickball basketball!” your kids yelled, running off to their teams and taking their positions. “Wait wait wait. Before we get started, would someone kindly explain the rules of kickball basketball to our newcomers,” you gestured towards the Avs who looked completely confused at your fusion of the two ballgames.

“So one team pitches the ball like in kickball and the other team has to kick it. Then they skip around the perimeter of the basketball court and have to make it back home before the other team can get the ball and shoot it through the hoop,” Justin explained.

“There are also no bases so you can’t stop. You aren’t safe anywhere unless you make it back home,” Kalel added.

“This is really a game now?” Andre asked you and you nodded.

“And it is our favorite. So I have my kids playing odds vs evens based on their class numbers. I think you all can split up that way too,” you said, gesturing for the guys to join their respective teams. Nate watched as you settled the argument about who the pitcher would be between three of your boys, not handing the ball over till they figured it out diplomatically.

“She wasn’t joking when she said her students were taller than her, was she?” Andre laughed from beside Nate as he chuckled along. You stood on the sideline, cheering and calling out foul balls for the duration of the game. The Avs took it easy with your kids, just laughing and having fun. Your kids were ecstatic, being able to call some of the guys their teammates; getting high fives and being cheered on by the pro athletes. You PE time was about to end within another five minutes as the teams switched sides after the evens got three outs on the odds. You saw Isaac hand Nate the ball to make him pitcher, smiling as Nate gently rolled the ball to Kiely. After she kicked it and almost made it around, Steven was up.

“Miss Y/L/N, will you kick?” he called out to you, and your class started to cheer. It was no secret that you played PE games with your kids from time to time. A chant of your name was started as you laughed and put your keys and walkie talkie off to the side.

“Teacher Mom vs Teacher Dad, yaaaasss,” Alexa cheered and you shook your head.

“Alexa,” you called and she smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry!” Nate laughed and turned his attention back to you. He rolled the ball slower than you knew he could, but that didn’t stop you from kicking it with all your might. Your kids (and the Avs) on your side were cheering loudly as you skipped around the perimeter laughing, coming back to home a second before Tyson got the ball in the net.

“Evens win!” you called out, then made your two teams shake hands with each other and collect the equipment as it was time to head back to class. As your class was saying goodbye to the Avs, Nate walked over and bumped his arm into you.

“You know I went easy on you right?” he asked, ever the competitor. You laughed and smiled sweetly at him.

“You know you shouldn’t have, right?” you shot back, laughing as he rolled his eyes. “I’ll see you back home. Love you,” you whispered.

“Love you,” he whispered back. You gathered your class and ushered them out of the gym and back to your classroom. The rest of the day went well as your class was floating on cloud nine from their interaction with the Avs.

One Thursday afternoon before Winter break, you came home with several bags of potatoes in hand. Opening your apartment door, you walked in on Mikko and Andre watching a basketball game with Nate; your boyfriend automatically getting up and taking a few bags from you. “What’s with all the potatoes?” Mikko asked.

“We’re mummifying them tomorrow in class,” you answered casually, walking off into the kitchen as Nate sat back down on the couch while Mikko and Andre looked entirely confused.

“Did what she just said not phase you at all?” Andre asked Nate and the center shrugged.

“I’ve been hearing about this project for like 3 months now,” he said casually. You walked back into the room and sat on the edge of the couch near Nate.

“Mummifying potatoes?” Mikko asked, looking slightly horrified.

“Yeah, we’re learning about ancient Egypt. We’re going to wrap the potatoes in foil and decorate them with plastic jewels like they were death masks,” you explained in an excited tone.

“How?” Andre asked, now completely more interested in what you were talking about than the game.

“I’m going to cut large slices of potatoes so ever student gets a handful. Then we’re going to pour baking soda and salt on them to dry it out like the Ancient Egyptians would dry a body. Then we are going to wrap it in tin foil like a sarcophagus and decorate. When we get back from winter break, we’ll ‘excavate’ them by unwrapping the potatoes and see how we did with drying it out, documenting changes and what we see like archaeologists,” you explained. Nate smiled up at you as Mikko and Andre tried to figure out if the project seemed cool or crazy. They settled on cool.

“Can we help?” Mikko asked and you laughed.

“Nate’s coming in tomorrow to help. The two of you can come with him if you want,” you said and the guys nodded.

The following day, Alexa answered the door when there was a knock as you were starting to explain to your class what they were going to do with their potatoes. “Teacher Dad! You’re here!” She said quietly as to not get in trouble by you. Nate chuckled, nodding as Mikko and Andre planned on chirping him later for how comfortable your class was with him if they were calling him teacher dad like it was no big deal. It was one thing when they were younger, but took on a different comfort level as they were older.

The guys helped you pass out the materials and made their own sarcophagi as you circled the classroom making sure your students were staying on task and not just goofy around. A few of your sports obsessed boys clung to the hockey players and copied their every move, decorating their sarcophagi to look similar. You laughed, passing by Nate’s and adding an extra jewel because you wanted to make it more sparkly. He narrowed his eyes at you, but let you keep adding jewels until you were content and circled the class again to see how your kids were coming along. Mikko and Andre snickered; only you would be allowed to touch anything of Nate’s and not have him explode on you.

“Mr. MacKinnon?” two of your girls came up to Nate with little giggles. He looked at them confused, but answered.

“Yes?”

“You and Miss Y/L/N are dating right? Like you’re here all the time. Ever since third grade,” Audrey asked in a hushed tone while Cierra continued to giggle. Nate flushed, not sure how to answer them.

“You must really like her. Like, marry her like her,” Cierra added as Nate cleared his throat and his teammates started to laugh. Before Nate could formulate a sentence though, you were calling for your class’s attention, letting them know it was time to put their ‘sarcophagi’ on the back counter and clean up for the day. As you circled the room again, you noticed Nate looking a bit red with the two forwards trying to hold in their laughter.

“You okay?” you asked him quietly.

“Fine,” he shot you a smile, and though you were skeptical, you returned to your class.

“Yeah Teacher Dad Mackinnon. When are you going to make her Teacher Mom MacKinnon?” Andre chirped quietly, muttering a sorry when you shot him a look having heard his voice, but not what he said. Truth be told, Nate had already thought about it and had plans for an off-season proposal.

Campus was quiet on a Thursday after school. You had made copies and stapled a few packets together, graded math tests, and prepared a social studies test for Friday. One task led to another and you kept walking around your room hanging up new student work. Sitting down, you started working on going through your students work from the week to check for understanding and participation. As you were stamping and writing comments, you heard your door being unlocked. Figuring it was the custodian, you kept on plugging away. “Hi Ms. Kay,” you said cheerfully, before looking up and jumping in shock. “What are you doing here?” Nate looked at you incredulously.

“Why are you still here? Y/N I thought something happened to you,” he walked over to you and pulled you up and into a hug. Was he worried about you?

“No, I was just getting some things done. How did you get in?” you asked as he let go of you.

“Ms. Kay gave me your room key when I ran into her in the parking lot. Why the hell are you still here? I tried to call you like ten times,” Nate said, obviously worried, but you still weren’t sure why.

“I have bad reception in my room, I’m sorry babe,” you said, grabbing his hand. “Why are you so worried. Is everything okay?”

“You don’t know what time it is, do you?” Nate asked you, laughing humorlessly.

“It’s only like 4:30,” you said, looking at him confused.

“Hun, no,” he said, showing you his watch. “It’s 7:30.”

“Oh my gosh Nate. I am so sorry! One thing led to another and I wasn’t paying attention and…” you rambled.

“Hey it’s okay,” Nate tilted your chin up with his forefinger. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, realizing you had worried him. Nate smiled softly at you, giving you a quick kiss before grabbing your backpack and keys.

“Let’s go home,” he tugged on your hand but looked back when you didn’t budge.

“Nate I have so much to do. I don’t know how I got behind this week but I need to get all their work together and sent home in their Friday folders,” you rushed out, starting to feel overwhelmed that you didn’t have all the time you thought you had.

“Then they can get them on Monday. You need to come home and get some rest,” Nate tried to reason patiently with you.

“Nate, they’re called Friday folders for a reason,” you said.

“And I’m sure if they get them late one week no one will riot,” he responded.

“You don’t know that.”

“I know your class adores you as their teacher. Now let’s go home and you can finish them tomorrow if you’re going to stress over it,” Nate started to pull you along.

“But…”

“Leave it.”

The next day you were running on pure caffeine and more thankful than usual that it was Friday. The unfortunate part, your schedule had no room for you to work on your Friday folders. Figuring you would skip lunch to get it done, you went about your day as usual. You were helping Noah with dividing fractions when there was a knock at your door. As you continued to help your student, Justin got up and answered. “Mr. MacKinnon!” he yelled and your head shot up.

“Justin, that is not an appropriate classroom tone,” you said as your class was all trying to get a better look at Nate. “Get back to work you guys. I’ll be right back Noah. Try number 12 by yourself,” you suggested, getting up and walking over to Nate. “Everything okay?”

“What do you want me to file?” he asked.

“What?” you asked, confused by his question.

“You were stressed yesterday about your Friday folders and they still look empty,” Nate gestured toward your hanging files on the wall with all the student’s folders in them. “I figured I would stop by to see if you needed help.”

“Are you my room mom for the day?” you laughed quietly and Nate nodded. Checking the time, you shook your head.

“You just got out of practice. I appreciate the help, but I’m sure your tired. Go home and rest,” you said, feeling guilty that you had worried him yesterday.

“I’m good. Where should I start?” he smiled.

“Please let him stay Miss Y/L/N. I love making my brother mad that Nathan MacKinnon spends time in our class instead of his,” Isaac said from behind you. Turning around, you laughed looking up at the tall sixth grader.

“Why are you up?” you asked.

“Oh! I need help on number 15,” he showed you his messy paper.

“We’ll go over everything right now. But did you flip the second fraction and then simplify?”

“No….”

“Ohhh, I would start there,” you smiled.

“Yes ma’am,” Isaac saluted you and went back to his desk. You laughed softly, shaking your head and turning back to Nate. “If you’re sure you want to stay, their work is all ready to be filed and it’s sitting on my desk. Thank you.” You smiled at Nate with a sigh of relief. He squeezed your arm reassuringly for a moment, then walked over to your desk to grab the stack he needed. “Alright my crazies, let’s go over our keep, change, flip.”

This wasn’t actually happening, was it? There’s no way this is real. These thoughts swirled in your head on a Friday in March. The school was closing for an extended spring break due to an outbreak. COVID-19 was closing your school. Nate’s season was just postponed, and now school. You went home in tears that day, not knowing what was going to happen next.

Over the next two weeks, you prepared Google Classrooms and work to do digitally as your school year was called. A month in a half online, then summer. Nate was getting agitated, not knowing what to expect with hockey and also worried for the both of you in the city. “I’m getting us a flight to Coal Harbor before they close the borders,” he mentioned one night during dinner.

“Nate, I can’t leave. What if I need to get back into my class? What if my kids need me?” you asked, your anxiety heightening.

“Then I’ll find a way to get you back here as quickly as possible. I just think we would be safer at home with more space, not an apartment in the middle of Denver,” he explained.

“I don’t have anything to teach there. At least here I have a white board, I can’t take that on a plane,” you rambled. Nate reached across the table and grabbed your hand.

“I already ordered you one for there. It’s being delivered tomorrow. You can turn one of the spare rooms into your classroom, or you can take my office and I can do things somewhere else. I just want to go back home, and I’m not comfortable leaving you here,” he said, wiping a tear off your cheek with the pad of his thumb. You weren’t sure if you were stress crying or worried crying at this point. He did have a point though, and you were online for the remainder of the school year. You nodded.

“Okay.”

~ ~ ~

Three weeks later you were laughing at a story one of your kids was telling you over Google Meet. You had to give it to your class, they were very resilient and working hard to finish the year off. Deciding that you wanted to do something fun for PE, you roped Nate into a low-key training session. You told your kids to come to class that morning in their favorite sports gear and be ready to move. Opening your meet, you appeared in your MacKinnon jersey. “Of course you have a MacKinnon jersey Miss Y/L/N,” Cierra said laughing. You looked at her shocked.

“Who else should I have?” you laughed with her.

“Crosby,” Kiely unmuted herself quickly.

“I heard that Kiely!” Nate yelled from somewhere in the hallway. Your kids started laughing and you smiled at them, thankful to have them all healthy and safe in front of you, even if it was through a screen.

“Okie dokie kiddies. I have something fun planned for us today. Are you all ready to meet our special guests?”

“We know Mr. MacKinnon is there Miss Y/L/N,” Steven unmuted himself and laughed.

“I said guests as in plural Steven. But if you don’t want to meet him, I guess I can just send him back home,” you shrugged, starting to turn around in your chair.

“No no no! Steven stop talking. Miss Y/L/N, who is it?” Noah called, practically bouncing out of his seat.

“Hey, be nice Noah. Alright ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls. I would like you to meet your PE coaches for the day. Mr. MacKinnon you already know, but say hi!” your kids all unmuted themselves to say hello to Nate as he walked into the room. “Okay now, drumroll please! Your other PE coach, Mr. Crosby!” The screams of your kids had you pressing ‘mute all’ really quick. If only there was a mute all in real life. Sidney waved at your kids while Nate laughed as Kalel fell out of his chair in excitement. You saw parents running into the rooms of your students, all waving and excited themselves once they saw there was no danger.

After a 30 minute workout with Nate and Sid demonstrating and counting for the kids, you let them have time to talk with your class. They had been working so hard, you figured some time missed from learning to enjoy themselves in this hectic experience was needed. Friday was half day for you online, so after a math review and reading time, you said goodbye to your kids as they all started to log off. Waving till the last one left, you sunk back into your chair as you ended the call. Nate came into the room and placed a kiss on your forehead. “Thank you for doing that today,” you said, smiling at your boyfriend.

“Of course. I would do anything for you, you know that,” he said simply and you smiled. “I am mad at Kiely though. Why should you have a Crosby jersey?” Nate made a face and you giggled.

“She just wants what’s best for her teacher,” you teased him, leaning forward to give him a quick kiss and then standing up to head to the kitchen for a snack.

“Yeah sure,” Nate said, then comprehended what you just said. “Hey!” he ran after you, circling his arms around your waist while you laughed and tried to get away from him.

It was the last day of school for the year, and you were watching a movie with your kids on Google Meet. After the meet you talked about the summer and what they hoped to do if they could. You had them also talk about what their favorite part of the year was and what they look forward to in Junior High. “You guys know that I will always be here for you. I know you will all be awesome seventh graders and I can’t wait to run into you all at the grocery store one day and have you all tell me about it,” you said, starting to get choked up with having to say goodbye to them after such an insane year.

“I’m gonna miss you Teacher Mom,” Alexa unmuted herself and you almost broke. Even though you would get after her when she would call Nate Teacher Dad, you loved being her Teacher Mom.

“You’re going to make me cry,” you said, tearing up and laughing as your kids all started to unmute themselves to tell you not to cry.

“Miss Y/L/N, can you call Mr. MacKinnon into the room please?” Kiely asked softly and you nodded, figuring she wanted to say goodbye to him too. You called for Nate, laughing at a joke one of your boys told you while he walked into the room. Seeing him through the camera, you turned around in shock.

“What’s all of this?” you said to all the little presents and cards Nate was holding and placing down on the desk beside your laptop.

“We all wanted to get you something, so my mom emailed Mr. MacKinnon to plan how to get it to you!” Isaac shouted.

“Email?” you asked Nate, not knowing they had his email.

“Instagram,” he whispered. Your actual room mom DMed Nate.

“You guys! This is too much! Thank you,” you gushed, looking at the outpour of love from your class. “You’re all the best and I love you guys,” you said, not helping the tears that came to your eyes.

“Love you Miss Y/L/N!” a few of your girls shouted while your boys just laughed.

“There is also one more thing,” Nate muttered to you, rubbing the back of his neck. “You guys ready?” he asked your class, and you could hear the nerves in his voice. Why was he nervous? Your kids all nodded, big smiles on most of their faces. “Okay, hold them up.” You watched the screen as your kids held up colorful posters with different sayings on them. Confused, you started to read them.

“Teacher Mom + Teacher Dad”

“Congratulations!”

“Mrs. MacKinnon’s Class!”

“Say yes!” … Kiely’s had a picture of a ring on it. Your jaw dropped as your heartbeat sped up.

“Turn around!” Alexa yelled through the speakers. Spinning in your chair, you came face to face with Nate kneeling in front of you, a beautiful ring in his hands.

“I had a whole speech planned out, but I’m forgetting it now,” he chuckled and you giggled with him, more tears filling your eyes. “I know this time has been crazy, and I didn’t plan on purposing to you during a pandemic, but I didn’t want to wait any longer. I love you Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N. I’m thankful everyday that those kids brought you to the rink that day three years ago. I love having crafts all over my desk because you need more space, and I love being Teacher Dad; more than I thought I would. But most of all, I love the peace and steadiness you bring to my life, even if you’re running in circles yourself. I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”

“Say yes!” shouts came from behind you on the computer screen. You smiled, nodding your head.

“Yes, of course,” you said, tears falling. Nate smiled at you and slipped the ring on your finger, standing up and bringing you into a hug. He wanted to kiss you, but knew you would get mad that it was in front of your class. Cheers erupted from the meet, and you turned to see not only your students but their parents also. Laughing, you showed your class your ring quickly.

“Yay Teacher Mom and Teacher Dad!” Alexa shouted and you couldn’t get mad at her this time. After they all calmed down and you said your final goodbyes, you ended the meet and found Nate laying on the couch. You lowered yourself on top of him and kissed him.

“How did you get them to do that?” you asked, referring to the signs.

“When Isaac’s mom messaged me, I brought it up. She coordinated it all with the other parents,” he said and you laughed.

“I love you,” you said, kissing him again, Nate wrapped his arms around you, holding you close.

“I love you too, future Mrs. MacKinnon.”

Tagged: @avsfans95 @capsvsducks @justjosty @tysojost @natxpat @evphemia @stlbluesbrat21 @fallinallincurls @joeyisourranger @kyratallent @drewseph93 @ayohockeycheck @tkbarzal @stormingroses @dreamandrow @handwrittenheros @brandonbagel @bakerclaire123 @miranda0102 @cherrylita @musiclove-12 @reallyawkwardbandlover

#nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl fanfiction #nhl writing #nhl x reader #nhl fic #nathan mackinnon x reader #nate mackinnon imagine #nathan mackinnon imagine #nate mackinnon x reader #colorado avalanche fic #colorado avalanche imagine

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kurosstuff · 3 years

Text

A/N: so here's a donna x reader thing I thought of!! Also the reader is a maiden a head maid to be more exact- made the header with the only pic that DIDN'T come out terribly??? Idk how the fuck to make them?? Its- technically first pov but isnt exactly written that way idk man I'm dumb

Warning(s): blood, angie swears because I say so. Goes into slight depth of a small injury. FEMALE READER, panic attack(s) SPOILERS!! AND ANGST- this isnt a nice fic. It's not even close haha(but I changed some stuff around to make more sense so fuck you♡)

Donna Beneviento x F!reader: Right place. Wrong time

Parties sucked. Being a handmaid was fun and all but the biggest downside is you have to attend these.. events? You weren't entirely sure what they were but Lady Dimitrescu was very clear on you attending to assist her and the other lords during this time

"I swear if it weren't for Mother Miranda" Lady Dimitrescu spat out at the drunken fool-no her brother? You weren't actually sure what he was to her but they acted like siblings. Mother Miranda help anyone who asks- last person who did landed in the cellar "I would have kicked you out." Taking a drag from her cigarette. Leaning down and blowing into his face making the man start yelling as Moreau hide behind the table yet again-unless he wished to be dragged into the fight as well as he usually did during this time

If it weren't for two things happening with you. You'd probably laugh. But with how many villagers there are-the ones who hurt you. Your anxiety was racing. Even worse when the lord-no the women you were very interested in was here as well. The mysterious women dressed in all black as usual, Donna Beneviento and her doll companion, Angie by her side looking around frantically at all the new people. Jumping up and down excitedly

Deep breath...

Deep.. breath..

Turning you started out the door. Thankfully being the head maid you wouldn't exactly get in trouble with an extent of course(also helped the fact the lady and her daughters were well aware of your anxiety and were surprisingly kind about it?). As you moved you were unaware of a pair of painted eyes glancing at you before turning to another

The cool breeze in the air calmed you as you roamed around the garden. If it weren't for the weather it would have been such a beautiful sight. Well more then it was. Dispite the chilly air as winter was just rolling around the corner. The indication of it creeping up a bit closer with the speaks of ice and snow arounding around and on the flowers. Personally decorating then with their own weather, the crunch under your feet became louder as you got farther away from everyone

"So this is where you went?" A voice called out behind you, stiffening in response you could only hope for the best as you turned-half expecting one of the sisters, but you knew better then to assume that-if it was they'd have bitten you gently-as they could-before dragging you off somewhere

Turning around your assumption was proven correct. Standing infront of you was a small porcelain doll, odd colors painted on but overall handled with such care-you stared in awe before remembering yourself. Kneeling down a bit infront of the doll you smiled

"Why, hello Lady Angie" you started with a smile-watching the mock of a shock on her face, her mouth a gap more then it was before "would you like something?" Speaking softly to ensure not upsetting the doll if you even could? You weren't sure but you've heard that she had a temper of sorts on her

With a mock scuff Angie threw her hands in the air happily "ooo! 'Lady'? Can't remember the last person to call me that seriously" with a scratchy giggle she bounced around you happily. Almost intrigued with you "and what do I want? Hmm" she stopped infront of you again crossing her wooden arms in thought

"Walk with me"

She spoke suddenly after a moment rushing off you in tow- before her foot caught the long dress of hers. Almost sending her falling if you didn't grab her hoisting her up in your arms suddenly. Standing frozen for a second before placing her down gently

"Sorry Lady Angie." Looking her over you nodding in note of no injuries seen on the poor doll "rude to not ask but I'm glad your alright" before looking around her again to ensure you didn't miss anything.

Angie stood head titled to her side interested, holding her arms up to you she made grabby hands like a toddler would when wanting up. "Pick me up" she ordered with a giggle, kneeling down you gently grabbed her. Picking her up you held her against her hip, almost like a mom holding a baby or a toddler it seemed to be the best choice-her reaction was a happy laugh. Pointing off to a room she nodded her head towards there

"Off we go then Lady Angie" you said, walking to the door across the wintered garden. Opening the room to show the indoor version. After all Bela-the eldest likes to do some research on them every now and again-and some of the gardening things held vegetables for the other maidens to keep them "fresh" as they said.

The greenish room should more of the vibrant colors of the objects then the snowy wind from outside. Catching your attention was the chorus of 'down's' repeatedly from the doll-who in turn was put down on the floor gently. Rushing off she called for you to join her. Following close by you couldn't help but smile at her child like nature-dispite her crazy nature, it was very enduring

Turning the corner you didn't expect to see her maker-the lady of the Beneviento house. Donna Beneviento also the same one who caught your attention from seeing her for the first time. Growing a bit flustered you bowed your head towards her-gaining a snicker from Angie who whispered-or at least seemed like it- to the veiled women. Of what? You weren't sure but it must have been something if she suddenly jolted up almost nervous like

"Hello Lady Beneviento" you responded carefully. It was obvious to anyone who sees the Lady- she seems to not be be used to being social with others, "its nice to meet you, My lady" speaking formally as you've been taught-and reprimanded for repeatedly in the past. Thankfully now it stuck

Nothing but silence filled the room. No talking. No movement even from Angie who just stared at the Lord. Your anxiety crept up even faster now, did you say something wrong?

"..WELL!" Angie suddenly jumping up bringing her wooden hand onto your pant leg pulling you forward- with such strength for such a small doll. "Come on" she tugged again annoyed like a child would if their toy was taken from them

"Give me attention!" Smiling you followed her to the smaller table you've seen before- when you first entered you never knew why the Lady would want such a small table. Now with Angie you knew why. Sitting down infront of the doll you leaned forward awkwardly in the seat

"Thank you Lady Angie" smiling at the doll like child who held a cup of 'tea' flavored air towards you with a cackle and nod-unaware of the gaze on you both from the veiled women who underneath smiled slightly at the sight

After a couple moments of playing tea, Angie's attention was stolen from a butterfly getting up and chasing after it with a yell of- profanities which you could have only assumed she learned from the other Lords. Movement was heard behind you-aware of the other women you pretended not to hear as to not scare her off

A flower crowded your vision for a moment before you took it gently. Fingers grazing across the other women's gently-ignoring the way she flinched away almost like you burned her somehow "thank you Lady Beneviento" you replayed glancing over at the veiled women who moved to sit beside you-almost so still you would has mistaken her for a statue-if not for her breathing hitching softly as a smile crossed your face. You didn't want to scare her off as she finally started to relax around you, slightly but enough

Holding the flower you looked down admiring it with a soft smile- which if you remember correctly Bela-during her studies-called it a Calla lilies. Whatever it was, it was a beautiful flower. While looking at the flower you failed to notice the one who gave it to you watched intently. Almost like she was flustered- but it was hard to talk with her veil to anyone. Anyone but Angie-who giggled behind you. Ditching the Butterfly for the scene before her. It was not only surprising that Lady Beneviento gave it to you but it also confused you as to why. Twirling it in your fingers gently you glanced up to the black veiled women "Thank you Lady Beneviento" smiling before remembering you already thanking the women-you grew slightly embarrassed from the lack of response-unsurpising as it was.

Laughing that scratchy tone-almost like a disk being scratched you drew your attention to the doll clinging to your pant leg once more "oohh~" Angie started in a tease "Donna thinks your pretty~ I can see it I guess" Angie giggled pulling at your pants for attention-if it weren't for what she said you'd compare her to Daniela for her need of almost constant attention

"What?" Was all the response you gave as the veiled women yet again stiffened in response-before abruptly standing up. Looking up at her smiling getting up as well. Angie curling herself around your leg like that of a cat against their scratching post, the Lady before you stopped almost as if debating something before turning and leaving hurriedly. A groan was heard as Angie unwrapped herself from you and chased after Lady Beneviento'

"Aww why can't we keep them?" Was all that you heard before they left the room. A smile grazed your face at the comment. It wouldn't be all that bad to be a maid for the two Ladies. You looked at the flower in your hand unaware of the glowing yellow eyes watching with a knowing smile.

A loud call of your name rang through the building loudly- the same way it was usually used for a certain sister. Gulping the lump down you straightened your outfit as best you could to be at least somewhat presentable, the flower safely in the pocket of your front shirt poking out.

Rushing down the hallway hastily while making sure not to make it seem like your running. Getting to the lady of the castle while running from one of her daughters? Yeah not that fun. The memory of the incident where you did accidentally set one of then off thinking you were trying to run away. Rubbing the scar on your wrist shivering at the thought.

Yeah. Not again.

Rounding the corner to the front of the manor your Lady and Lady Beneviento stood almost like they were waiting for something, or someone. A loud snicker brought your attention to Angie who stated up at you, bowing your head at them respectfully-thankfully remember the first rule anyone would know

Rule 1- don't look at any of the Lord's until they gave you some sort of signal(you technically broke it? But they either didnt care or mind)

Lady Dimitrescu placed a single hand on your shoulder sending a tingle of fright and anticipation through you "I will be giving you my own head maid, Donna dear" she started nodding in your direction giving you a odd smile-almost knowing? Of something "to help around your home" with that decided-it was clear she would not be changing her mind. Not that you'd want her to either

"Oo! We get the pretty lady?" Angie giggled loudly making her run around you in circles chanting something along the lines of "Pretty!" And "tea partner" smiling softly at her, Beneviento tensed up in embarrassment at the thought of you in her home. But accepted none the less

Calling out your name as you all got ready to finally leave. You turned to your former Lord "Now" she started giving you a stern look "be on your best behavior. Treat her right." Placing a hand on your arm her nails slowly turning to claws before turning back to normal. Like a warning

Entering Beneviento's home you noted how.. homie it really was. Like a normal house minus the dolls around. Some on shelves others on random chests or just sprawled on the floor.

Smiling like a little kid on Christmas you let a small "woah" as you glanced around the Lady of the house watching you intently as you neared one of her dolls, a defensive one who attacked if an unknown/violent person enters in her home on instinct without her command. Nibbling her lip nervously under her veil she hoped you would grow uninterested in the doll.

She was wrong

"This is so cool!" You escalated getting way to close for everyone in the room. The other dolls stared worry surrounding them from their Mothers nerves being shot. The doll sprung to life-a sharp intake from Beneviento, Angie moved to get you away, She slammed her eye shut. Awaiting the scream of pain to come out. The blood. But nothing came. Slowly she opened to see what could only be a silent but swift kill.

Her mouth opened in shock. You held the doll gently in your hands-it didn't even try to harm you just stared curiously at you, "I'm assuming you made this as well m'lady?" With a tilt of your head you sent a smile her way. Shock and disbelief was all she felt-even Angie was stumped about this.

"W.." for the first time since she first learned to talk. Angie was at a lose for words. "Well of course you dummy!" She just as quickly regained her ability. With a nod of your head you placed the doll where it leapt from gently smoothing out its outfit and you moved back. Hands on your hips before turning to face the two once again

"Well I think its cute!" The dolls around the surrounding area chattered excitedly, their mother stood yet again stumped. They obviously liked you-and she had no idea what to do about it.

She ignored the giggle of Angie who stared at her knowingly.

That started your new routine.

Everyday you woke up, changed. Accompany Angie around to clean as she entertained(teased) you. Everynow and again one of the Dollmakers dolls that are capable of walking yet have no speak or full will of their own like Angie would pop up and just stare at you. Or follow you. But if you looked at then they'd run off

So that made you have another rule.

Rule 2- if one of her dolls pop up don't look at them depending on who they are, and if you see them politely smile and wave. Do not engage unless they do.

It seemed like almost everyone in the house liked you to some extent. Almost everyone. You knew the Lady Beneviento at least somewhat liked you even during the small times of seeing her.

Yet during the last couple of weeks you barely saw the Lady of the house herself. Just at breakfast through Dinner. When you bring the food in she brought the tea. She refused to let you make it- Angie said something about how that's her favorite thing(and only thing) she cooked. All the other times you assumed she had little to no interest in you.

That all changed when one day you drew her attention to you even more then you unknownly had.

While cutting the bread you glanced up watching Angie as she ran around the small room, in awe about how life like she was, even after the amount of times you've seen it and heard it- she acted like a child- it was heartwarming but it was still a surprise. "Fuck" you hissed moving your hand away from the knife, in your obviousness you accidentally cut your thumb. Some specks of blood. Looking up from the deafening silence Angie was frozen in the middle of the room staring at you mouth agape. As usual you imagined if she was truly alive you wondered if she'd outright laugh

Which she did. And to your horror mimicked you

"Fuck" Angie copied gleefully. 'Oh no' was all you could think of as you rushed to her "FUCK!!" She yelled out louder then the last

"No no Lady Angie please" you attempted to calm her. What if Lady Beneviento heard? Would she be mad? Or find this funny? You were almost scared to find out "don't say that word please" at that she froze before slowly turning her attention to you

If this was anyone else. Like for example the daughters you served at your time in the Dimitrescu castle you'd be dead right about now. That's when it finally settled in. You just gave an order. To one of the lords. And if not the most unpredictable one at that considering how out of the ordinary she is. They all were in their own sense but Angie is arguably a very very unpredictable doll. If you weren't already worried out of your mind, you are now

"Um-" you started before she floated close to your face frozen. It was a couple minutes. Long painful silence. If it weren't for this situation that was happening admiring the work done on the doll would have been something you would have been doing

"Fuck" she giggled making a deep sigh of breath you held in this moment. "Hehe~" laughing that weird laugh of hers rushing off leaving you alone in the living room. Around dolls that seemed to pierce daggers into you much harsher then usual. Like Donna knew what you just taught Angie that. Like she saw

But.. she couldn't have. She's in the basement.. right?

That night Angie still said the word and laughed like the 9 year old? You guessed? She was, but never said it infront of her mom. Thank god for that. But.. that didn't last long either

"Motherfucker" was the first thing you heard leaving your room. Looking at the small doll in question who just giggled at your shocked expression "you are a motherfucker" before rushing off laughing

"WHO TAUGHT YOU THAT?" you yelled after Angie who in turn laughed even harder in horror you tried to wrap your mind around it. Did you say that? No. You're 50% sure you didn't say that word yet. At least not here

Standing in the hallway for a moment. Someone was behind you watching frozen not at you telling but at the young dolls profanity. Turning around you saw the one person you hoped wouldn't see or HEAR anything.

"L-Lady Beneviento!" You exclaimed bowing your head down harshly, "sorry about that I don't know where she heard that from" hoping to Mother Miranda she wasn't mad.

Silence.

A ear piercing silence surrounded you both in the hallway before the sound of a chuckle-then a deep soft laugh escaped the veiled women in front of you. Bringing her hand under her veil to probably whip away tears she probably had escape from how hard she laughed. Standing in shock at the scene infront of you-growing flustered before a smile crept on your face.

You could only hope you'd hear that lovely sound again.

"...thank you" a hoarse voice so soft you had to hold your breath to hear it clearly. It was even more apparent that she hardly spoke to anyone if it was that hoarse. But it was still the most beautiful sound you've ever heard. A smile crept up your face as your heart swelled in happiness. "Donna." She interpreted your thoughts making you blink in confusion

"Call me Donna"

After a couple of months you and the two Ladies of the house got closer. Angie followed you around like a duck yelling profanities or teasing you about your crush on her mom- that she somehow figured out. Just like now.

"Donna and Y/N sitting in a tree" Angie sang, dancing around the coffee table. Donna sitting next to you drinking a cup of tea under her veil "K-I-S-S-I-N-G" Angie spoke making the veiled women spit the tea out onto the table and the surrounding area.

"ANGIE" You yelled flustered but chuckling at the exaggerated reaction from Donna who was frantically whipping the spilled tea off of herself. Leaning over with a napkin you helped a bit

Silence filled the room when Angie ran out laughing the only slight of sound was the tick from the clock which sat above the door to the living room. Tapping the table you glanced at the time, realizing what the time was you jumped up catching Donna off guard

"Oh! Donna I have to see the Duke" you spoke looking away unaware of frozen panicked state. You hadn't left the house since the day you moved in, so you weren't aware of the jar, unaware of the village's state. Unaware of everything. With a gulp behind the veil the one thing that mostly plagued her mind.

What if you left?

What if you saw what she helped do and left her? Forever?

She couldn't deal with another lose- especially not you. Looking back you smiled at her gently, grabbing her hands gently rubbing the too with the palm of your thumb "I'll be back. I promise. I won't ever leave you or Angie, Donna I swear it"

Taking a deep shaky breath Donna nodded her head. "Alright. Just... don't be gone too long ok?" Donna begged-Hopeing it wouldn't seem too desperate- if it was you'd never comment on it.

"Of course" you promised.

The trip to the Duke wasn't easy nor was it too hard, bumps and bruises here and there. But in the end it will be worth it.

"Ah, the young helper from Lady Beneviento's correct?" The Duke spoke allowed rolling out of no where- you'd never figure out how he could do that. Or how the single horse could pull such a big guy either. A large grin appeared on your face

"Duke! Hey what's up?" Going over towards his shop you looked around a bit "it's been a bit quiet hasn't it?" The Duke froze turning towards you looking as you gushed over some of his items. A smile suddenly came onto his face

"Ah yes" he cleared his throat "I believe their planning on some..celebration of some sort for the Lords. And Mother Miranda of course" he concluded

"Ah, that makes sense!" Before you would say anything else something caught your attention. A single flower. A rose. If you could remember from the many books-and studies with Angie it means "Love" pointing to the rose "I would like to buy that one please" you spoke the Duke following your gaze and smiled softly

"Ah, a beautiful rose for a beautiful lord, my dear. Perfect choice" pulling out a couple more then just the single you assumed he'd pick he held them out to you gently, before you could pull your coin pouch out he held a hand to stop. "It's on the house, dear. You don't owe me anything"

"Oh! Well.. thank you Duke" smiling you took the Rose's gently in your hand turning and rushing off, rubbing the scar on your wrist in nervousness. The Duke watched in silence- he could only hope you'd stay safe looking back in his shop at the three statues he concluded- life isn't that fair nor kind to anyone.

Holding the flowers tightly so you wouldn't drop them yet gently so it wouldn't break, you smiled gently, today is the day, you were finally going to tell Donna how you felt. How much she meant to you.

Rushing up the trail to the house you couldn't help but shiver, a slightly unnerving shiver-almost cold. Obviously worried about the whole confessing thing. With a rub of your wrist you gulped deeply, biting your lip slightly-Donna would never cast you away for how you felt-she wasn't like that...

Right?

The closer you got to the door as it came into view, the more worried you became, walking around the sprawled out dolls around you took a deep breath and opened the door

"Donna. Angie I'm back!" You called out

Silence

Nothing came back. No quick pitter patter from the wooded feet of Angie sprinting towards you. Gulping down the lump in your throat you clutched the flowers a bit tighter still being mindful of how much strength you put in it.

The doll room! That must be were they are, walking around the couch you started down the hall before you froze everything happened in slow motion. The flowers falling, the white red speaks appearing in your eyes.

"No..."

The scream that pierced out of your throat in horror. Anguish and grief. The bloodied body of Donna laid on the floor Angie beside her. Blood pooled around them, it was obviously Donna's and by the looks of it- it stopped pouring out. Dropping to your knees with a heavy thonk-you ignored the pain in then. The static in your ears as blood rushed from your face. Bringing Donna's head onto your lap. You shook her gently

"Donna" you started tears rushing down harsh against your cheeks-all you saw was the blurrier vison of the women you loved "wake up" you begged shaking her yet again. Trying desperately to ignore the painfully obvious dull in her eye as her veil moved slightly, before you on instinct moved it to cover her whole face.

"Don't leave me" sobbing harshly you brought her closer as you shook. "I" gulping down the sob from your horse throat "I love you, please don't leave me alone"

"Please. Come back"

All you got was silence

Then another scream

#donna beneviento x reader #donna x reader #donna beneviento #resident evil #also the ending Ethan is behind you #ethan aha what are you doing behind me with that knife-reader #HAHAHA #everyone is dead no ones happy minus Ethan and his jar baby limbs #i wrote a fuck ton #i was going to make you Heisenbergs maid but idk how the fuck to write him #so i may do another one but that route??#i had like plots for that hehe #also. is castle the same as a manor????#idk #ima say it is lol #also i had to take stuff out because it got to long and tumblr was being pissy about it #so during the timeskip where she tells you to call her by her first name- you and her get closer you introduce her to a thing called TV and #angie won't stop watching pinocchio and has a wooden cigarette thing #donna gets upset about it so Angie fakes puffs smoke into her face #she gets time outs everytime #also you don't actually ever see her face. even at the end of the fic you wanted to give her that much #you know what i mean?#donnas last thoughts were how glad you weren't there that day. she wanted you to live happy #even without her-she would be happy #she only regretted not telling you how she truly felt #hehe.

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