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mouschiwrites · 7 months

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hey hi wassup hey SO I WAS WONDERING if I could get a butters x reader one-shot WHERE the reader is walking over a frozen lake and butters (a bystander) sees her fall in. I'll leave the rest up to you! Thanks!

YES ofc!! I hope this is to your liking!

Word count: 1k

South Park - Butters Sees You Fall Through The Ice

Cold settled in quickly in South Park. After enjoying your three months of relative warmth in summer, the entire town was plunged back into freezing temperatures and icy weather. October hadn’t even passed and every body of water in town had frozen over.

Though you didn’t mind a little warmth, you much preferred the cold for this exact reason. You loved being able to walk out onto the frozen lakes and ponds, looking down, wondering what was going on underneath the ice. So, naturally, when you saw the ice covering the lake, you ran to it.

You weren’t stupid. You knew the ice would probably be a little thin, so you tested it first. You threw rocks as far as you could out onto the ice. Not even a crack. Smiling, you warily stepped onto the slippery surface. The ice creaked a little, making you pause, but it held strong. You walked further.

The sun provided ample light to be able to see through the ice. It was so clear! You swore you saw fish moving under there. No—you did see a fish! You were hypnotized by the fish’s smooth movements, its body swaying back and forth to propel itself forward. You followed it, keeping a couple feet behind to avoid scaring it with your shadow.

It swam further and further out into the lake, you on its tail all the while. As you trailed the little creature, you noticed how its features were becoming clearer and clearer. You could clearly see its colors now. The light was gleaming off its skin. It was so clear! You kept pace, hypnotized.

Small bubbles swirled around its tail as it flapped back and forth. They floated the short distance to the surface and caught on the ice, speckling the surface like tiny jewels. The fish suddenly hurried away, jolting into the depths as if on some reflex. You lunged forward, hoping to get one last peek as it disappeared.

That fateful step brought you closer to the fish than you would’ve liked.

It was strange; the feeling of the cold water registered in your mind before anything else. In the couple seconds that followed, thoughts fired off like bullets: The ice broke. I’m in the water. Can’t breathe. Swim up. Can’t; frozen. Swim up. Okay, moving at least. Surface—where is it? Solid. Ice. Where is the surface?

Panic filled your mind as you realized that you had already lost the hole from which you had fallen.

“There’s Y/n, out on the ice again,” Butters hummed to himself. He always thought it was cute—the way you’d stare at the ice beneath your feet, completely infatuated with whatever you saw. He couldn’t help but wonder what it was that you found so interesting.

He smiled as you perked up, clearly spotting something. “A fishy, maybe?”

He went back to his cloud gazing. It certainly was a pretty nice day to be outside, as far as days in South Park go. No snow yet, so Butters was able to sit comfortably on the dry grass. It was cold, but most residents of South Park weren’t bothered by a little chill.

He tapped his feet together and hummed, trying to make out images in the fluffy clouds overhead.

Apparently, his imagination wasn’t feeling up to it. The longer he stared, the more abstract the shapes seemed to become. He couldn’t make out a single image, no matter how hard he tried. He sighed, redirecting his gaze back to you just in time to see you lunge for the fish and fall through the ice.

“Y/n!” He shouted, jumping up. He hurried down the hill he was reclined on and ran straight out onto the ice, not bothering to test its sturdiness.

He slowed his pace as he approached the hole, getting down on all fours to distribute his weight. He inched along, his heart racing almost as quickly as his heart.

Before he reached the hole, he noticed a hand under the ice. You had drifted a little ways away from the hole, and were slamming on the ice with your palms from underneath. Butters yelped, hurrying to the hole and plunging his arm into the water. Luckily you hadn’t drifted too far; he was able to grab your wrist and guide you to the opening in the ice. You surfaced with a gasp sputtering from your blue lips. Your face scrunched at the feeling of the cold air against your wet skin, and you had to force your muscles to relax enough to open your eyes.

You clawed at the ice, trying pathetically to drag yourself out of the water. It was only when an arm hooked under yours that you were able to crawl up. You instantly—almost reflexively—curled into a ball, trying to generate some warmth. That was the last thing you remembered before blacking out.

When you opened your eyes next, you were in a hospital bed. Your limbs ached terribly and you were shivering, despite the heavy blankets stacked on top of you. You groaned.

“Y/n! You’re awake!”

You knew that voice. “B-butters?” You rasped, your voice just as shaky as your body.

“Yeah!” He grinned, hurrying over to your side and grasping your hand. “Geez, you’re really cold… Oh! Uh, anyway, I saw you fall through the ice, so I went to help you, but then you passed out, so I kind of panicked, and then I just called 911 because I didn’t know what else to do, and…”

It all came back to you as he rambled on. You squeezed your eyes shut, cringing at your own stupidity.

“Y/n? What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, smiling faintly. “I’m glad you were there, Butters. Who knows where I’d be otherwise.” You brought a shaking hand behind his neck and pulled him in, kissing his cheek. “My hero.”

“Shucks,” Butters blushed. He looked shyly at the ground. “...Could you do that again?”

You chuckled, grabbing his hand and tugging him in.

Thank you for reading, I really hope you enjoyed! And thank you for your request!! Take care sweeties <33

(divider by saradika)

#south park #south park x reader #butters stotch #butters stotch x reader #butters x reader #butters #sp butters

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luv-tiffanyblue · 2 years

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Prologue

Synopsis: She was a lady born into French royalty and the royal court where she was highly beloved, only to meet her end at a young age and became a forgotten figure to history. The end she met became her stroke of fate as she was given a second chance to live again, forever. This is the story about (Y/n) De Auclair’s life where her new life gave her an adventure with a family and love that she never thought she would gain.

↳Jasper Hale x OC! Reader

Word count: 3k (3,055) words

Taglist: currently open; 5/10 positions (will be added more if more people are interested)

Content warnings: blood mentioned, drinking/ hunting for blood mentioned, Jasper feeling weird, & that’s all, but let me know if I missed any!

Moulage pt.3 ⚜️ Masterlist ⚜️ Chapter 1: Il Était Une Fois

Winter.

A period of quiet reflections and new beginnings of a new year as an old year ends.

The season is associated and centered with darker topics than the rest of the others. The cold and dark are the main symbols of the winter with despair seen as the last symbol. Usually, it can also be viewed as survival and the end of life as many living beings die or prepare to survive the harsh season to live to see gentle spring.

However, many may see it as a warning of their loneliness arriving soon. Not having anyone to enjoy the events that occur in the winter and having to be alone. Which might make them feel the longline with the view of seeing those around them be happy.

The winters in New York were known for their soft powdery snow that if it was picked up, would fall like pixie dust from your hands. The city’s snow had the purest white color out of all the states as it hails from their sky. From their sky, formed fluffy white clouds that were now a light gray, glooming over the state in exchange to produce their pure snow. And with that, it’s how the people of the city begin to change their daily routine from summer to winter.

Once the first snowfall lays on the ground, that's when the people of New York exchange their thin clothing for thicker clothes and the holiday festivities start. Every inch and corner of the city was to be covered by snowfall, as December started. Leaving their crystal water lakes and ponds to become frozen and turned into ice rinks for the people to enjoy. Snowmen with tophats and carrot noses start to appear on the sidewalk and parks, greeting those who walk by. Hot chocolate stands start to pop up around neighborhoods making the children beg their parents to buy them a cup.

However, the most popular and well-known holiday activity to do once early December hits is to watch the Nutcracker. It had become one of the favored Christmas time activities once it became introduced in the 1940s. The city was known for its performing arts and theater centers, so of course, the nutcracker was a new performing arts event that had now been added to the city's list. Almost every family tries to see it every year allowing ballet companies to extend show dates. Even travelers from different states come to New York to see it as there was a high chance no company there will host it.

Coming down from the upper north was a trio, a group of nomad vampires that contained two males and one girl. With one of the males being the mate of the girl. The three of them traveled not far to enter the city, wearing light winter clothing on their bodies compared to the New Yorkers. They got glances from the people as they walked by due to that, but the cold does not bother them as being a vampire and dead contributes to that factor.

The group of vampires was in the city for one reason only, which was to watch The Nutcracker, and then they could go back home. The only woman in the group, Charlotte, had convinced the two to watch the ballet as a way to celebrate the holidays. Of course, Peter, her mate, and Jasper, her close friend, had agreed to make her happy, which they did. As it was now why the trio was walking through the streets of New York City to the theater.

"It's up ahead on the street,” Charlotte exclaimed, gripping her mate’s hand tightly that making him wince. She picked up her pace to walk faster, dragging Peter with her who cannot take her excitement. As it is why, he hasn't said a word about her grip on him, so he wouldn't make her replace her excitement with guilt.

Peter looked behind him to lock eyes with his best friend, Jasper, as a way to plead with him to use his powers over Charlotte. He did love her and her excitement for the activity that they were going to do, but he could only handle so much of her. It was a way to calm her down before she would accidentally expose her abilities as a vampire due to her excitement. As well as Peter who was being treated as a rag doll by her the entire time of walking to the water with Jasper slightly behind them.

Jasper’s red eyes looked back at his friends with a hidden amusement behind them and a small smile on their faces. He just shook his head no to the side as his friend's antics entrained him. He did not want to be scolded by an angry Charlotte since she would know that he used his power on her. The reaction of Peters's face dropped at his answer made him let out a small chuckle from his lips with Peter not as amused as him.

And right before the trio’s eyes was the magnificent Palace theater located in the middle of the City. The Nutcracker's name was displayed out front of the building with the flashing bright lights lit up around it. People were dressed up in their formal evening wear as the sun had begun to set and were entering the venue. It made the three feel a little undressed, but they didn't care either way.

Charlotte began to walk towards the theater like a child in a candy store with Peter in hand as the giant lollipop.

While Jasper had a slower pace while walking to enjoy the scenery of the city as it was his first time there. His eyes roamed through the sights, the buildings, and the entire area around him until something caught his eyes. it was the ballet's official poster plastered onto the wall to show off to any on-lookers or to those that pass by.

The poster showed a single ballerina dressed in an icy blue-pink outfit and pink pointe shoes on her feet. A large award-winning smile appeared on her face as her light-colored eyes stared to the side. Her entire body was supported on one-pointed foot with the other behind her at a 90-degree angle and her arms reaching out. Above her body read the New York City Ballet company that represents Nutcracker with the dates, but it did not include who was the dancer on the poster.

Jasper could not help but felt intrigued by the poster that show the ballerina. He felt some type of feeling inside his body that he could not put his finger on and describe.

Expect, it might just be his hunger warning him to feed soon as he is surrounded by humans whose blood is pumping through their bodies. It also does not help that the ballerina has her neck stretched out showing her pale white skin that seems to glisten under the poster. It made his mouth somewhat water at the sight of her neck.

Yup. Jasper has to go hunting after this event with Charlotte and Peter. His hunger would probably get worse over time later, but he only gets that feeling when looking at the poster. He shook off that feeling when he heard Charlotte from afar saying his name, thanks to his vampire hearing.

“Jasper! Come on! We have to go inside and find our seats,” Charlotte quickly explained, still excited about the ballet even as they stood outside the venue.

Peter smiled moving his head towards the theater as a way to tell his friend to hurry up. He's also still in his mate’s tight grip as he just wants Jasper to catch up, so they could go inside and be free once they sit down.

Jasper looks forward to where the couple is and smiles at them. When he walks away from the poster, he could not help but felt weird letting go of that feeling he had. It felt sudden for it to go away quickly once he looked away and took one step back from it. The occurrence and feelings had slightly disturbed him but left it alone as he goes to keep up with the others.

The trio had entered the venue that was covered in Christmas and snow-related decorations as it was now the holidays. They were amazed by the popularity and cheer it brought to people while walking through the crowd. The inside contained a sea of people who were entering and leaving the restrooms or theater. It was rather a tight squeeze to navigate through for the three but they were able to go towards the theater and found their seats easily thanks to an available seat attendant.

Once they were seated and comfortable, they stared around the theater taking in the view as everyone started to get into their seats. Their view was perfect from where they were sitting, the seats were in the middle of the theater on the floor. It allowed them to set their eyes on the stage which was centered perfectly in the middle with no one's head blocking any one of them. Not to mention, their sight was enhanced as well due to being a vampire. Therefore, allowing them to see the stage in perfect vision with every detail noticeable to their deep red-colored eyes.

Charlotte's eyes could not help but stare at everything inside the theater and the stage. The scenery was completely new to her as she has never seen anything like this even before turning. "Isn't this place just beautiful to look at?“ loudly sighed the woman whose shoulders moved down from her question. "It is just gorgeous to look at,” Charlotte said, before adding, “even though we are a tad underdressed for this event.” Her hand slid down from Peter's upper limb to his forearm, slightly squeezing it while her eyes moved away from the stage and then to the other two.

That brought the two’s attention from what they were staring at to now her. They mentally agreed with her being underdressed, but they didn't care either way.

Jasper made a small hand gesture towards their surroundings commenting, “I do have to admit that I've never been in a place like this when I was with Maria."

"I've seen places like this in newspapers, but now I'm able to experience it. And with you two,” Peter added, patting Jasper's shoulder and squeezing his lover's thigh gently. He looked at Jasper due to him not leaving the Mexican coven not long ago and haven't been exposed much. So, he had to ask, “are you doing alright? Especially, with the huge crowds of people.”

Jasper gave him a small smile before answering, “I'm alright. Probably might have to hunt later after this." However, he didn't have the need or feeling to hunt for the next few days but just in case something might happen.

Peter nodded and was going to answer, but the music started to play aloud from the orchestra pit allowing the notes to fill the room. Which made Charlotte tug on his sleeve and her finger on her lips to hush the two. Their attention went towards the giant red curtain on stage as they wait for it to be drawn up.

The music began to reach the people's ears making their voices die down along with the mutters until it went completely silent. Now, the only thing being heard in the room was the music of the Nutcracker being played. The curtain was now being drawn up allowing the audience to see the set of the stage as the Nutcracker has officially now begun.

The Nutcracker in Jasper's opinion was that it was wonderful and entertaining to watch. Expect, the show just finished its first act which was about 40 minutes to an hour long, before they announced a short ten-minute intermission before they would move on to act two. It allowed the audience a small break to sneak in a stretch from sitting down or buying a snack before the show resumes again.

A couple of the trio had gone to see if any items of the show were being sold while Jasper stayed in his seat. He did enjoy the dancers and the show, but he could not get over the feeling from earlier. His body wanted to feel that urge and emotion he felt when he stared at that poster. He knew that he would be bothered about this until he could figure out what is happening.

As Jasper was deep into his thoughts, an announcement was made stating that the show would start soon and would like people to get back to their seats before the curtains are drawn back up. He noticed his friends coming back from the outside to where he was as the audience began to fill back up. And he began to mentally prepare himself for act two of the Nutcracker with how long it would be before another break was given.

Expect, a certain presence had appeared in his surroundings that he did not notice earlier and now sensed in the building. The presence was not quite strong around him, but he could feel it and wanted to just hunt it down. However, he could not just drop his plans with his best friends and leave early in the show. Jasper could only hope that the presence would stay until the end of the show and he could track the being with that presence.

The giant red curtains had drawn back up showing a now decorated land of sweets with the dancers in different costumes and the music playing loudly as ever. Everything was wonderful as Clara and the prince appeared again and the people welcomed him back with Clara. Multiple dances were being performed Jasper noticed the presence from earlier now became stronger.

He looked down at the booklet given to him earlier that contains the performances in the acts and started to go through them. His blood-red eyes went past act one towards act two seeing that the Waltz of the flowers was more than halfway done. A pas de deux dance next contains a guest soloist appearance as one of the important roles, the Sugar Plum Fairy.

Jasper looked back up noticing the waltz of flowers had finished with the music now changing into the iconic Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy. The corps de ballet had moved back slightly from the center with smiles still on their faces. While Clara and the prince haven't moved and only looked in the direction of a new performer coming on stage.

The fairy's Cavalier had now appeared on stage where he smiled with his hand out to the side where he had come out of. This made everyone look to where his hand was reaching out to. A small pale hand reached out to the Cavalier’s hand, grasping it which allowed him to walk forward out to the center stage. He guided the person out behind him to show the one and only, Sugar Plum Fairy.

As they made it to the center of the stage, the two began to dance together to the music being played.

He noticed that the presence had become the strongest yet with a scent now appearing to his senses as it filled his nose. A soft, sweetly fresh aroma of white raspberries being freshly picked, daisy petals that are plucked, and a hint of sugar base musk pulled Jasper in. As soon as that fragrance hit him, all he wanted to do was pull that person with the scent towards him and hug them. it made his eyes almost black and roll back due to the feeling as the aroma did not help him.

When he got out of his trance, his red eyes located the owner of that intoxicating aroma and it landed right at the Sugar Plum Fairy. She had gorgeous (h/c) hair pulled back into a middle bun that was decorated in sparkles and a crown on top. it exposed her extended pale neck candy necklace wearing as a large smile appeared pink colored lips that reached her golden eyes. Her body had a beautiful handmade icy blue tutu with pink accents shown on the bodice and tutu.

Her skin seemed to sparkle brightly underneath the stage lights with every movement onstage. Her feet had on pointe shoes that looked to be new as she stood on the box of them, separating way from her cavalier. She became the diamond of the entire production as her partner went beside her to hold her waist to guide her.

Her features had away Jasper's attention the moment his eyes met her body and it never left her movements. When she extended any part of her body, it created the illusion of her being taller. The way she smoothly did the movements of the dance across the stage made it seem like it was easy to do. Especially, as if she had done it in her entire life just doing this single role. No mistakes could have been made with her being cast and only seemed perfect to the audience. Everything that the ballerina had done seemed flawless while captivating the audience, especially Jasper.

The entire time, the fairy was on stage, his eyes would not leave her, whether it be standing on stage or dancing he would only stare at her. He felt that if he looked somewhere she would leave and leave the faint smell of her scent behind. Inside, he knew that she would become important to him which was why his eyes were glued to her.

It was time for the final bows as every performer had bowed in order of their appearance. The only one left was the Sugar Plum Fairy as she walked to the front and went on one knee to the side, bowing deeply. The audience cheered loudly at her sight with Jasper standing up for her as he clapped loudly. While not moving his eyes away once.

As she moved her head back up, her golden eyes scanned the audience, only to meet blood-red eyes in return, right as the curtains were drawn back down.

Moulage pt.3 ⚜️ Masterlist ⚜️ Chapter 1: Il Était Une Fois

Fun facts:

Charlotte had to beg Peter and Jasper for weeks to see this ballet since November and the two agreed within the first week of December. (They cave in once she became very upset and acknowledged her weeks of asking).

Every poster (the one Jasper had seen) had to be hand painted after getting off the press where they had to match (Y/n)’s skin tone and paint over any of her skin showing as those parts seemed to be sparkling too much from the lights and flashes that it seemed to be too much for the eyes. No one could figure out had to fix it, even with the lighting until one suggest this idea.

Peter and Charlotte noticed Jaspers gaze at the poster and wondered why he was frozen like that, but they knew it wasn’t his thirst, so it had to be something else. *spoiler* they will later realize why after the show (this will be later written in the series, but not sure when)

Charlotte's begging to see the ballet is actually based off from a real life event experience that the author,Luvblue, had did where she begged her dad to see Sleeping Beauty the ballet with cousins which he would later agree to let her and brought the tickets.

A/n: Yay, the prologue is done no I hope you’re satisfied with it! The original idea for the prologue came from a fun fact I was going to publish, but transformed it into the prologue. As well as saying that updates will be very slow due to my writing process and other personal stuff (school and family and etc) that would take a majority of my time. I hope you enjoy the fun facts and the series so far!

Disclaimer: ©luv-tiffanyblue 2022 rights reserved-please do not repost/translate/modify/copy my work on other platforms unless changed in rules! Please look at my info about my other writing platforms!

🏷 : @superkittywonderland @darlincvllen @xcharlottemikaelsonx @xanniestired666 @who-actually-cares-anymore

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writersmorgue · 2 years

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Febuwhump Day 6 - Hypothermia

You're welcome discord pals <3

TWs in tags || @febuwhump || read on ao3

Note: -2° F = -18.8° C

Denki coughs dryly into his palms, a puff of condensation following. He’s sore from clenching his jaw and numb from shivering. It’s not like his parents gave him a blanket when they kicked him out. No, they weren’t that gracious. He supposes it’s a blessing he was allowed his shoes, which are now soaked through with snow. A phone would’ve been nice too but, you know, small mercies.

It clocked in at -2 degrees when he’d woken up from his nap. Rather, been awoken. He ‘ supposes he deserved it, outing himself on national television and all.

It wasn’t like he’d meant to, but Hitoshi had just got third place in their final sports festival for fucks sake, he deserved as much love as Denki could give. He was so fucking proud of his boyfriend.

Denki sniffs, doing little to stop the watery snot from dripping on his chin, cold against his skin. Not like anything was warm right now.

Not that it matters, of course, he’ll probably be frozen solid before morning. A cruel imitation of Hanta’s first-year sports festival fight with Todoroki. He wishes he had a Todoroki to melt his frozen skin right now.

Unless he wants to fry his brain for good, electricity won’t do him any favors right now.

He’s so fucking tired, but he knows if he goes to sleep right now he won’t get up.

Denki spent the first two hours wandering around, most likely in circles. He used to love living in an unpopulated area of Japan but now it’s definitely biting him in the ass. Or frost-biting him. He chuckles bitterly, stumbling in the snow as his right ankle fails him for the billionth time.

“F-f-fuck,” He curses, blinking hard. It’s difficult to see with all the snow swirling around him, he’s not really sure where he is at this point.

He’s likely only half an hour away from the nearest konbini. He’s not sure his neighbors would want the faggot of 3-A knocking on their doors at 10 pm. If he could fucking find their houses-

God, Denki is absolutely screwed.

He frowns, touching his mouth absently. Not sure if it’s his lips that are numb or his fingers that can’t feel anything.

He shakes off the burning numbness in his leg, trying to keep it working. He ignores the stabbing pain it brings him. How it makes him so tired.

He stopped crying at some point, he supposes the frost crusting on his eyelashes has something to do with it. But the tear tracks remain carved into his pale skin.

He shudders, his lungs filled with biting cold, he blows into his hands, rubbing them furiously together. Jack shit that does, of course. He pouts, staring at his blue fingertips distractedly.

He’s not sure he would’ve seen the rocks anyway, since they were covered in snow, but he blames his idle mind anyway.

His legs, which had been running on E for the past half hour, collapse instantly, folding in on each other as his head hits something hard below him.

He groans, reaching up to grab his rattled skull. He contemplates staying there, succumbing to the fate he knows is waiting for him.

But Denki Kaminari isn’t a pussy. Okay maybe he is, but he’s not a pussy with a death wish. This is why he only teases Bakugo until explodes. Okay, maybe he also has a death wish, but not a freezing-to-death wish. So he rises to his knees.

Which slip out from under him.

Oh, fuck fuck fuck- FUCK.

Denki has fallen, to his absolute horror, onto the ice-covered pond outside his family’s property. The one that never freezes solid. The one with a max of three inches of ice on its surface right now, if he’s being generous.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-

Denki supposes this is karma for all the times he’s talked back to Mr. Aizawa. The universe would totally fuck him over with someone like this. Only Denki, 1-A’s trouble child would drown in a fucking lake. He can already imagine his grave writing, “Denki Kaminari; friend, partner, colossal dumbass.”

He shifts his legs, squinting at his surroundings. Trying to get a sense of where he is.

God fucking-

CrACK-

Fuck.

CRACK-

FUCK.

Denki tucks himself as small as he can, he’s pretty sure there’s a protocol for this but his brain is so muddled. He’s not sure which way he should even crawl, he can’t remember where the edge was. Denki’s gonna fucking die.

Hitoshi’s voice screams at him from somewhere in his frozen brain, “ROLL DENKI, LAY BACK DOWN AND FUCKING ROLL.”

He comprehends the directions slowly but eventually manages to do what his boyfriend-shaped subconscious is telling him to.

He reaches his arms over the top of his head and begins rolling in the direction of what he thinks is the nearest bank.

He takes a few deep breaths, willing his body to spontaneously become lighter. Uraraka’s quirk would be helpful right about now. But no, Denki’s as useless as ever.

The Bakugo portion of his subconscious is yelling enough expletives as it is, Denki doesn’t really feel like dwelling on it.

The ice continues to crack as he rolls, growing louder and louder. Denki’s pretty sure he’s rolling towards the middle of the lake but it’s too late to turn back at this point. His eyes are burning from the biting wind and he squeezes them shut.

Just yesterday he was playing cards with Mina and Eijirou in the common room before break started.

Eijirou had been staring at Bakugo the whole time, didn’t notice Denki exchanging his cards in the deck. He and Mina had laughed about it.

He hopes they get together, even if Denki won’t be there to tease them for it.

He hopes Mina gets that makeup palette she desperately wants, and Hanta gets the new manga collection he was saving up for. He hopes Jirou finishes that song and Hitoshi-

Denki lets out a dry sob.

He just wants Hitoshi to be happy.

He stopped rolling at some point, core giving up on him completely.

It’s so, so cold. Denki is so, so tired.

There are black spots in his vision, his lungs are burning, and he can’t feel anything now.

He stares up at the white blurs whipping by above him, an infinity of space he’ll never explore.

Denki finds he can’t really bring himself to care.

He closes his eyes and sighs.

It was fun, but he’s ready to give up. He’s done fighting.

Something inside him is screaming, begging to be saved, but Denki is just so tired.

He feels the spider web of fractures under his body grow longer, deeper.

It’s not cold, this time when he falls.

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fruitcoops · 3 years

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Hi! Do you think you’d be willing to write some Cubs fluff for Mardi Gras? Like Leo making Finn and Lo do something (I don’t exactly know how it’s celebrated)?

Oh my god I LOVE Mardi Gras!!! Also, I haven’t done Cubs fluff in a while, and I combined it with a couple other related prompts. This fic includes Cubs and Coops bonding (ft. Logan being a little shit), Leo learning to drive in the snow, a chaotic trip to the grocery store, and Lions family dinner after a winter walk. Hope you enjoy! Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove, as always <3

“Eas—Easy, babe, just take it nice and steady,” Finn gripped the ‘oh, shit’ handle with one hand and Leo’s thigh with the other; in the backseat, Logan rubbed his neck where the seatbelt bit into it.

Leo took an unsteady breath and carefully pressed the gas again, wincing as the car rumbled under him. “Oh god, oh fuck, okay.”

“Snow isn’t that hard to drive in—” Finn cut off as Leo slammed on the brakes again. “—as long as you don’t brake hard whenever you feel a little bit of ice. Lo, you okay?”

“Fine,” Logan wheezed, bracing against the car door.

“Slow and steady wins the race,” Finn murmured, keeping his eyes fixed on the road as Leo began inching forward again. “If you start to slip, take your foot off the gas and do not slam the brakes, okay? We don’t want to skid.”

“I don’t get why you can’t drive us there,” Leo said, glancing in each of his mirrors even though they were still in a fairly residential area. Ten minutes on the road and they’d barely made it four blocks from the apartment.

“Because you need to know how to drive properly.”

“I know how to drive!” Leo saw Finn and Logan exchange a look through the rearview mirror and smacked him lightly on the chest. “Stop it. When’s my next turn?”

“Still 53rd.”

“Left or right?”

“Right.” Finn tapped out a quick text on his phone. “Cap and Loops just arrived at the store.”

“Fuck,” Leo muttered.

“It’s okay, Peanut, take your time,” Logan said. “Just focus on getting there safely.”

Leo tried to breathe deep and they rolled down the block, flinching each time snow or ice crackled under the tires or threatened to make them slide. “I drive in the rain all the time. This shouldn’t be hard.”

“Rain is way different than snow.” Finn pointed to the next intersection. “Turn there.”

They took the turn a bit wide, but thankfully there were no cars on the other side—still, both Finn and Logan went pale. Logan cleared his throat. “Streets here aren’t as wide as New Orleans, mon amour.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Leo grumbled. “How much further?”

“The parking lot is on the next block.”

They almost got stuck driving up the small ramp into the parking lot due to Leo’s ‘slow and steady’ approach and he could have sworn he heard Logan muttering the Hail Mary in French under his breath. Parking was easy—nobody in their right mind would be driving after a true Gryffindor snowstorm. Except us, he thought wryly as he turned the engine off.

“Don’t forget to lock the car,” Finn said mere seconds after the key was out.

“Dude.”

“Sorry. Uh, Cap’s by the produce section.”

They were too focused on not slipping and falling on their asses to talk much while they walked through several snowdrifts to get to the front entrance of the grocery store; Leo sighed with happiness as soon as the heated air hit his face.

“Harzy!” Cap waved an arm over his head from the apple stand, smiling brightly. “You survived!”

“It was a close one,” Finn called back with a grin, sliding his hand into Leo’s back pocket as the three of them walked over.

“Dibs on riding in the cart!” One of Logan’s legs was already halfway into the basket before Sirius could stop him; he kicked aside the celery and onions and settled down, leaning back onto Sirius’ hands. “Bonjour.”

“Get out.”

“Non. I live here now.”

“I’m not pushing you.”

“I will!” Finn said. “Where’s the old ball and chain, Capsicle?”

“Call me that again and you can say goodbye to your ball and chain,” Remus said drily, lugging a bag of rice over from the other aisle. He stopped when he saw Logan, looking amused. “Hiya, Tremz. You look comfy.”

“Oh, I am.” Logan lounged in the cart, letting one leg drape over the side; he groaned when Remus set the rice bag on his chest. “Was that necessary?”

“No, but it was funny.” He grinned at Leo. “How was driving?”

Leo shrugged. “Decent.”

Sirius snorted as they began walking toward the meat section. “That bad, huh?”

“It’s a miracle I wasn’t beheaded,” Logan said. “Fish, how fast can you make it to the end of the aisle?”

“Loops, time me.” Finn tightened his grip on the cart and bent into a runner’s stance; Leo and Sirius both rolled their eyes as Remus dug his phone out of his pocket and opened up the timer.

“Ready…set…go!” Finn ran for three steps before hopping onto the under carriage as Logan whooped. Remus stopped the timer. “Four point six seconds! Get back here, I wanna try.”

“You’re not going to beat that time,” Logan laughed as he climbed out of the cart.

Sirius raised his eyebrows at the same time Remus stuck his tongue out. “Watch me. Knutty, can I trust you to be an unbiased timer?”

Leo shrugged. “Sure, gimme your phone.”

“You have one of your very own.”

“Trying to hide something, are we?” Logan wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and Sirius pushed him away by the forehead. “Spill the beans, Loops! Got some spicy messages in there? Some things poor baby Nutter Butter can’t handle?”

“No, I just don’t trust any of you with anything that belongs to me,” he laughed. “You’re walking safety hazards.”

“I’m taking that as a compliment,” Leo said as he set the timer. “Ready? Go!”

Sirius nearly tipped the cart over when he stood on the lower bar, making both of them yelp and wobble for a moment. Leo stopped the clock at the end of the aisle. Three point nine seconds.

“Sorry, guys, that’s four point eight seconds!” he called as Sirius pushed the cart back up to them.

Remus narrowed his eyes. “Show me the phone.”

“I already reset the time.”

“So we definitely won,” Sirius said while Remus clambered out of the basket and Logan took his place. “Get out, Tremzy!”

“Make me!”

Sirius reached in and grabbed him under his armpits, but Logan kept a tight grip on the sides. “Are you done?” Remus asked wearily once Sirius started shaking him. “ ‘cause our grocery list is, like, a million miles long.”

With a disgruntled noise, Sirius dropped Logan back into the cart. “With any luck, he’ll be crushed under the food. What’s next?”

They had a few more competitions during their journey through the store, including onion basketball, vegetable Tetris, and a highly amusing game of twenty questions that ended in Sirius laying the bag of rice over Logan’s face.

Leo did some mental math as they walked out with six grocery bags full of ingredients. “We’ll need about seven pots to fit all this, but we’ve only got two that would work.”

“I think we’ve got one or two as well,” Remus said as he hauled a bag into the trunk of their car and brushed his hands off. “Celeste probably has some, and I can give Lily a call. Where are we making it, again?”

“Dumo’s. There’s nowhere near enough space at the apartment and I don’t want these two anywhere close to it.”

Finn shot him an offended look over a bag of onions. “Hey!”

“I love you, sweetheart, but if you fuck up my gumbo I’ll cry.” In the back of his mind, Leo was already thinking of small jobs for Logan and Finn to do so they could make it together, but they didn’t need to know that. It could be a Mardi Gras surprise.

“The sun’s coming out,” Sirius mused, looking upward at the clear blue sky. “Nothing we bought is going to melt. Do you want to go for a walk before we head out?”

Logan checked his phone. “We’ve got time.”

“Sounds good to me,” Leo agreed.

“I’m never going to say no to a snow day,” Finn laughed, wrapping his arms around Leo and Logan. “Lead the way.”

“So, Knutty, gumbo is basically chicken noodle soup, right?” Sirius asked as he linked elbows with Remus and started down the sidewalk.

“Uh, no.” Leo made a disgusted face and reached out to smack the back of his shoulder. “That’s blasphemy. Gumbo is more like stew, but you put less meat in it and more of a vegetable base. There aren’t noodles, either. Do you even know what a roux is?”

Sirius glanced back at Finn, who shrugged. “…I do not.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Leo muttered. “A roux is the base to all good New Orleans food. It’s flour and oil, and you heat it up so whatever you’re making has an actual taste to it, as well as some thickness. If you get it wrong, the whole thing is pretty much ruined.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “Damn.”

Ahead of them, a pack of kids played pickup hockey on the park’s frozen pond. Several of them wore Lions sweatshirts or hats and Leo leaned his head on Finns beanie with a smile. “Look at how cute they are,” Finn cooed, waving to some of the astonished parents who had spotted them.

“Oh, killer hit,” Remus said as one kid went on a breakaway. “Is he—hey, nice shot!”

They paused for a second to applaud and a jumble of excited yelling echoed off the trees around the pond; Leo burst out laughing and draped his other arm across Logan’s shoulders, pulling him in closer to their huddle as they began to walk again. “We should head out there sometime. We live close enough.”

Finn hummed in agreement and stood on his tiptoes with a hopeful smile. “Kisses?”

Leo obliged, still grinning. “You’re ridiculous. That had nothing to do with hockey.”

“I didn’t get any kisses,” Logan grumbled, snuggling into Leo’s ribs.

“Get up here and I’ll give you one!”

“My nose is cold!”

Leo sighed dramatically and bent down to kiss the rosy tip of his nose—at the last second, Logan popped his chin out of his coat collar and caught his lips. “That was smooth as fuck. Better?”

“Much.”

“Are you three being gross again?” Remus teased, craning his neck to look back.

Finn raised his eyebrows. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

“One walk,” Sirius sighed. “I wanted one walk where we could hang out in peace and quiet.”

“You invited the wrong people for that,” Leo snickered as they looped back around the block into the parking lot. “Harzy, baby, can you drive us back?”

“You need to learn!”

Leo turned on his saddest puppy eyes and stuck his lower lip out. “Please?”

Finn scrunched his nose up and flicked his shoulder lightly. “You’re too cute for your own good.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Obviously.”

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

After a quick pit stop at their apartment to pick up the pots, they arrived at the Dumais house just past two in the afternoon. Sirius and Remus pulled into the driveway just as they began unloading groceries from the truck and hurried over to give them a hand; all five of them were immediately mobbed by children the second they set foot in the house. Leo carefully took the onions from Logan so he could sweep Katie over his shoulder and tickle her knees, making her dissolve into giggles.

“My boys!” Celeste called from the entrance to the kitchen. She practically glowed with excitement as she pulled them into a group hug and Leo melted a little when she pressed a kiss to each of his cheeks. “You brought the food, yes?”

“We’ve got everything we need,” he confirmed, holding the onions and a pot up as proof. “As long as you’ve got counter space, we’ll be a-okay.”

Sirius and Logan lingered in the doorway, chatting with the kids in rapid French that Leo didn’t even try to keep up with—he used to think regional differences were made up for internet clout, but even after living with Logan for close to a year he sometimes struggled with the pace.

Celeste helped them gather cutting boards, knives, and basic spices that they hadn’t picked up at the store; Leo felt a thrill in his gut and drummed his hands happily on the countertop at the sight of the familiar ingredients. He made a mental note to send a picture to his mother later that night as he rolled up his sleeves.

“Think you can handle rinsing vegetables?” he asked, passing Finn a bag of green peppers.

Finn rolled his eyes, but he was smiling, and he pressed a kiss to Leo’s cheek before going to the sink. Remus unpacked the last of the bags and gave him an expectant look—Leo was struck by the sudden realization that for once, he was the only one in the kitchen who knew the recipe.

“Um, I’ll start the roux,” he said, grabbing the flour and oil. “Loops, can you start dicing the peppers, celery, and onions? Cap can help out once he gets the squid children off him.”

A smile tugged at the edge of Remus’ mouth. “Bold of you to assume he won’t drag them in here.”

“Alright, Rookie, what’s my job?” Sirius panted, grinning wildly as Adele wrapped herself around his lower leg and groaned with each dragging step.

Remus spared him a playful I told you so look, and Leo shook his head. “As long as you can use a knife with a kid clinging to your leg, you can help your fiancé chop the basics.”

Sirius mock-saluted him and hobbled to the counter; behind him, Logan wandered in with Marc under one arm and Katie under the other. “I have potato sack delivery,” he announced, giving them each a gentle shake. “Can these go in the gumbo, too?”

“No!” both shrieked at the same time, flailing their legs.

“Those look like pretty good potatoes to me…” Sirius said, glancing down at Adele. “What do you think?”

“Put ‘em in the soup!” she yelled.

“It’s not soup,” Leo complained, though he couldn’t be heard over the loud protests of the youngest Dumais kids.

Sirius finally got Adele to let go of him when he started cutting onions—“Do you want to smell like onions?”—but Katie perched on the edge of the counter and watched every move Leo made with eagle eyes as he finished each roux and began mixing the trinity in. Each motion was muscle memory—the smells wrapped him in a hug made of tangy peppers, smooth chicken broth, and a kick of spice at the very end.

Much to his surprise, Sirius, Finn, and Logan were quick learners. Making five massive pots of gumbo was much easier when he had five more hands helping him; Celeste had even been sweet enough to put jazz on as they cooked and the six of them took turns dancing, partnering with whomever was closest.

The others started arriving at five—almost immediately, the kitchen was crowded with ten new hockey players who crammed as close as they could to the stovetop to smell the bubbling broth. Noelle was the only one who was allowed to get within ten feet of the food, much to Talker’s chagrin.

Honestly, it was a miracle that they made it to the table without the rest of the team falling on the gumbo like a pack of wild hyenas who hadn’t eaten for a week. Kasey’s bouncy leg shook the edge of the table in anticipation until Leo reached over and smacked him on the thigh with his spoon. “Be patient, Bliz.”

“I’m always patient!”

Eight different people made noises of protest and he scoffed, leaning his face over the bowl to get a whiff of the thick steam. Dumo tapped his fork on the side of his cup; it wasn’t quite a classy ding-ding, but it made enough noise to catch people’s attention.

“First, thank you all for coming here for a family dinner,” he said, smiling so wide it made Leo’s heart warm. “Second, I’d like to welcome the older and wiser O’Hara to his very first Lions dinner, since he had the great fortune of visiting just in time to be adopted by the team for a night!”

Loud cheers filled the house and Alex gave a slight wave, blushing under the attention as Kasey and Nat jostled him between their shoulders.

“And finally, everyone say ‘thank you’ to Knutty for sharing his top-secret gumbo recipe from home. We might not celebrate Mardi Gras like New Orleans, but this is a party nonetheless.” Dumo raised his water with a wink and Leo squeezed Logan’s hand under the table as seventeen voices thanked him for his cooking, despite the fact that they hadn’t even tasted it yet.

The house went dead silent as people took their first bites, then erupted into noise. “Holy shit, Knutty!” Nado all but shouted, shoving another spoonful into his mouth. “This is witchcraft.”

“It’s called ‘cooking’, you should try it sometime,” Leo shot back, grinning. The chicken thighs melted in his mouth, and the pop of lemon and spice at the back of his throat tingled all the way down to his bones. He didn’t think Pots had taken a breath in thirty straight seconds. Leo closed his eyes, letting the tangled muddle of his family’s voices roll over him, mixing with the taste of home.

“Ça va, mon amour?” Logan asked under his breath, touching his elbow.

Leo smiled and touched their foreheads together, setting his spoon down on the edge of his bowl. “I’m so fucking happy right now.”

Logan smiled and the edges of his eyes crinkled. “You look happy.”

“You two are whispering without me?” Finn whined, scooting his chair over a few inches and squishing Logan between them. His bowl was already half-empty, Leo noted with a sense of satisfaction. “That’s rude.”

“I love you,” Leo said. It needed no embellishments; no big, dramatic displays. “And I love making food for everyone.”

“You can do it any time, baby rookie.” Kasey scraped the sides of his bowl to catch the last few grains of cornbread, knocking his knee with Leo’s. “Next time we have a sleepover, I’m not ordering pizza.”

“So I’m going to be your personal chef?” Leo snorted. “Not a chance.”

“What’s that saying? The Mardi Gras one?”

Leo savored his next bite of gumbo and looked around the table as everyone chatted and laughed at the top of their lungs. “Laissez les bon temps rouler,” he said. “Let the good times roll.”

187 notes · View notes

spooderboyandtincan · 3 years

Text

The 12(ish) Days of December

A/N: I intended to write a Hanukkah themed chapter, but unfortunately I suffered some burnout and I couldn’t really start it :(((((( I plan and hope to add on to this in the future, I just wanted to get it out here on time! Happy Holidays everyone!!

Read on Ao3

/ST*RKERS DNI/

“Che palle!” May cried as she and Peter stepped out of the elevator. “Tony, what the hell is that?!”

“It’s a giant teddy bear,” Tony called back from the kitchen. “It’s for you, Pete!”

“Me?” Peter gasped, his face lighting up. He charged toward the ten-foot teddy bear and tackled it. The giant brown bear teetered slightly with his weight but didn’t tip over. “He’s so soft!”

Tony came out of the kitchen with a wide grin on his face. He wiped his flour-coated hands on his pants and tried to give Peter a hug without pushing him off the bear,

“He’s so beautiful!” Peter giggled, wrapping his arms around the bear’s neck. “And huge!”

Tony nodded in a proud, self-satisfied sort of way. Besides being delighted that the boy clearly adored his gift, he now had proof that this was obviously how one should react when presented with a ten-foot-tall stuffed animal. He'd have to take a picture and send it to Pepper.

May tossed her purse on the floor and shook her head at Tony. “As long as you can find a place for it, I’m not complaining,” she chuckled.

“I’ll rent a storage unit somewhere,” Tony supplied, taking a sip of coffee from his Iron Man shaped mug. Tony treasured that mug, which had been gifted to him by Peter several months ago. He never brought it in the lab for fear that Dum-E or U would break it, and he kept it in the cabinet next to his “1# IronDad” mug (also a precious gift from his kid).

He looked back to Peter, who had wrapped his arms around the bear, which was tilting dangerously. “Be careful, kiddo,” he said, biting his lip. But the moment the words got out of his mouth, Peter and the gigantic teddy bear started to topple to the ground.

“Shit-!” he began, darting forward, only to be met by Peter’s giggles.

“Nooo. Leave me. ‘M comfy.” He rolled onto the bear’s big belly and sprawled across it. “This’s perfect,” he hummed, closing his eyes.

Tony and May shared a slightly exasperated yet fond glance. Tony flopped down next to Peter, tucking a curl behind his ear. “Now that I think about it, spider-baby,” he mused, “I’ve got something else for ya.”

Peter perked up and opened his eyes. “What?”

Tony gave him a large grin and ran a hand through his curls. “C’mere.” He wrapped an arm around his shoulders and led Peter to his room.

May sighed. “I swear to god, Tony, if you’re giving him an Audi….” she muttered.

“I’m not!” the man insisted. Peter rolled his eyes and sat down on his bead.

Tony put a warm palm over his eyes. “Close your eyes, bud.”

Peter tried to keep his eyes closed as Tony ran to his own room, tearing through what sounded like wrapping paper and knocking boxes over with no absence of cursing.

Moments later, a small, leather 4x4 inch box was placed on his open palm. He opened his eyes and looked first at the box, then at up Tony, who smiled. May shrugged and gestured to open it.

Inside the box rested a thin, slender watch with a smooth black strap. The face of the watch was rectangular, and when Peter pushed the button on the side it lit up, displaying the time above what looked like a mini arc reactor. It resembled the StarkWatch he was wearing that very moment, except it looked more high-tech.

“A new StarkWatch, specially customized for you, by yours truly,” Tony said. “Your old one looked pretty busted, even though they’re supposed to be indestructible.” Peter snickered at Tony’s gentle jab. “And it’s got a few minor upgrades. You can set the lock screen, for one. And it should be trackable from anywhere in the universe, and I mean everywhere. And you can call me, or May, or Ned or Rhodey or whoever from the top of Mount Everest or the bottom of the Mariana Trench.”

“Wow,” Peter whispered, tracing the sides of the watch before strapping it onto his wrist. “Thank you, Mister Stark! I love it! It’s so cool!”

“What happened to ‘Tony?’” he grumbled playfully, giving his spider-baby a kiss on his head. “I’m glad you like it, buddy. It’s basically the same stuff as your old one, just better.”

Then, to both Peter and May’s surprise, Tony bent down and grabbed a colorful red bag covered in golden glitter. Peter laughed.

“Tony, it’s only the ninth!” May snorted, her eyebrows raised past her hairline.

“That’s because we’ll need these before Christmas,” Tony said wisely. He handed Peter a soft package wrapped in green tissue paper and watched him tear the packaging in half.

“It’s so ugly!” he cried, holding up a garish green sweater. There was a plastic red ball attached to the big reindeer's nose and tiny bells were tied onto the reindeer’s harness. Little snowflakes were patterned all over, and Peter couldn’t help but laugh. “I love it, Tony!” Peter pulled the sweater on and was delighted to find that the fabric was incredibly soft, instead of the unbearably itchy sweaters he had owned in the past. “It’s perfect!”

Tony laughed fondly at his already thrilled kid. “If you think it’s good now, wait till you see this. FRI, lights off,” he ordered.

Peter felt Tony fumble with something on his shoulder, and suddenly the sweater lit up. The reindeer’s nose lit up bright red, the snowflakes began to glow, and, as cliché as it might have sounded, the bells gave a merry jingle as Peter laughed.

“I love it!” He tackled Tony with a hug, relaxing slightly in the man’s arms.

“Good,” Tony chuckled, “‘Cause I’ve got about three more for you and your aunt each.”

“Tony, where’re we going?” Peter whined, his breath fogging the window. “Tell meeee!”

“My lips are sealed,” Tony said, pretending to zip his lips shut and throw away the key. “We’re almost there, Rudolph, don’t worry.”

“Rudolph?!” Peter snorted.

Tony reached over the console to ruffle his hair. “I thought you might want a Christmas nickname,” he explained. “Plus, y’know, you already had a nickname available that only required a bit of simple reconstruction, Roo.”

Peter shook his head. “Just tell meeee!”

“No. Never.”

“Pleeease?”

“I physically can’t, buddy.”

“Tell me! Tellmetellmetellme pleeeeeeeeease?”

“Will… to keep secrets… decreasing,” Tony said robotically. “Fine. We’re going ice-skating, Petey-Pie.”

Peter gasped, his big chocolate eyes going wide. “Really?!”

Tony grinned and glanced over to his kid. “Really.” He wished he could stop the car and give his sweet boy a hug.

“But…” Peter bit his lip. “I don’t really know how. I mean, I went ice skating with Ned a few years ago but we mostly fell over and bruised our butts.”

Tony chuckled fondly. “That’s okay kiddie, I’ll show you the arts. Rhodey and I went when we were in college, and man, we had a blast laughing at each other. Oh- we’re here!”

“Tony, I don’t have any skates!” Peter realized as they hopped out of the car.

“I already got you some, Pete, don’t worry,” Tony assured him. He opened the trunk of the car. “And I brought you an extra hat, a coat, a scarf, some better gloves, extra socks and a pair of snow pants.”

“Tony,” Peter began, leaning into the hug the man offered him all the same. He grumbled and rolled his eyes but let Tony wrap a scarf around his neck and trade his thin woolen gloves out for much warmer, thicker ones. Peter had to admit he felt a lot warmer. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Thanks, Pete. M’kay, I’ve got these fancy red and blue skates for you and red and gold for me.”

“And I’m sure the color choices were random?” Peter asked sarcastically. “Wait- these have the Spider-Man logo on them! Mr. Stark, are there Spider-Man ice-skates?!”

Tony bent to kiss his forehead. “There are, Pete. Pretty cool, huh?”

“So cool! I love ‘em, thank you, Tony!” He held up the skates to admire them. “They’re great!”

“No problem, buddy. It was my pleasure.”

Peter flopped down in the snow and pulled on his skates. He looked up to admire the tall oak and pine trees swaying gently with the wind, the last leaves of fall scattering along the icy roads. A pair of snowflakes drifted down to his coat, and Peter felt a sort of peace flow through him.

“Petey? Are you comin’?” Tony called, skating back and forth along the edge of the pond. Peter knotted the laces of his skates tightly and struggled to his feet.

“I’m trying!” he yelled, staggering forward. He leaned over the ice and felt a bit dizzy. It was about a foot down to the actual ice, and Peter knew without a doubt that he would slip if he tried to get down. “I dunno, um….”

“I gotcha, Petey, don’t worry.” Tony held out his arms and gave him a reassuring smile. Hesitantly, Peter lowered stepped onto the frozen pond, grabbing Tony’s arm and clinging to him as he got both feet on the ice.

“Good job, Roo!” the man praised, lifting him up by the armpits so he was standing up a bit straighter. He couldn’t help but compare Peter to a fawn who just stood up for the very first time, and the boy’s big bambi eyes weren’t helping his case. “Getting on the ice is the hardest part. I’ve landed on my ass more times than I can count.” Tony frowned at himself. “Sorry I said ‘ass,’ don’t repeat that.”

Peter snorted. His skates slipped and he felt Tony’s arms tighten around him. “Whoa there, buddy. I gotcha.” He tucked a loose curl behind the teen’s ear and kissed his cheek, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

“‘M’kay, you ready, Pete?”

“Heck yeah!”

Tony grinned. “Okay, first, you said ‘heck yeah’ instead of ‘hell yeah’ and that’s adorable,” he teased, chuckling at Peter’s eye roll. “Second: let’s wreck this rink!”

Though of course, they ended up making more of a wreck of themselves rather than the rink.

The very second Peter slid his foot forward, he found himself spontaneously falling backwards. Luckily, Tony caught him easily and gently pulled him back up.

“I meant to do that,” he huffed, his small hands scrabbling at Tony’s coat. “It was- completely- intentional.”

“Of course it was, Roo, I know that,” he said with a raise of his eyebrows. “No one has the grace and agility you do.”

“I am graceful, Tony! How dare you?!” Peter grumbled.

Tony might have made a quip about the arms wrapped tightly around his waist for support, but he decided his poor kid had suffered enough. Despite bumping into every table or chair in his path, Peter was surprisingly graceful, especially when he swung with ease through the air on a thin stand of webbing. “You are graceful, buddy, I promise,” he admitted. “You wanna give it another try?”

Peter stuck his tongue out at him, adjusted his hat, and gingerly took a step forward. Tony tensed, ready to lunge forward and catch him if the boy slipped, but found himself letting a quiet cheer. “Nice job, Pete!”

Peter beamed at him, his legs spread far apart and his arms extended for balance. He tipped backwards and Tony started to jump forward, but Peter flailed his arms around and regained his balance.

“I think you’re getting the hang of it, kiddo!” Tony called as Peter made his way to the opposite side of the pond. He winced suddenly, protectiveness flooding through him at his retreating figure. “Be careful! Wait for me!”

He caught up to Peter easily and zipped in front of him, catching him by the shoulders. “You’re doing great, baby!”

“Thanks,” he giggled, looking down at his shoes. He wiped his red nose with the back of his hand and sniffled. “‘S fun!”

Tony smiled and adjusted Peter’s scarf. “Glad to hear it.”

“Tony?” he asked. “Can you do a figure eight?”

The man paused to consider this, clicking his tongue. “Only one way to find out!” he decided.

Peter watched excitedly as he skated out to the middle of the pond, looking practically weightless. Tony took a deep breath, prayed he didn’t break any bones, then pushed off. He zoomed around the pond in a perfect figure eight, only faltering for a brief moment, and traced over it twice before he skidded back to Peter. “Ta-da!”

Peter applauded, clearly very impressed. Tony bowed exaggeratedly and pretended to be embarrassed.

“D’you think I should try?” Peter asked.

Tony smiled fondly. “Only if you want to. I know you’d nail it though.”

And he did. Peter skated carefully to the edge of the pond and performed the figure eight beautifully, spinning in circles and laughing when he got a bit too dizzy.

Tony skated up to him, his eyes huge. “Jesus, Petey, that was fantastic!” He pulled the embarrassed teen to his chest and wished, not for the first time, that Peter wasn’t wearing a hat so he could kiss the top of his head. He settled for Peter’s cheek instead. “Wow, baby, that was amazing! Wait- I gotta sign you up for the Olympics. Where’s my phone- oh, I got it.” He pulled his phone from his coat.

“Tony, nooooo!” Peter protested.

“Tony yes. You’re too talented.”

“It was just a figure eight!” he giggled. “And you did one too so you hafta sign yourself up.” Peter looked up to the gray sky and shivered as the brisk winds tore at his heavy coat and scarf. He leaned even closer to Tony.

“You cold, baby?” Tony rubbed his back gently, hoping to generate some warmth. “Wanna go back home? We can come back here anytime you want.”

Peter sighed a bit sadly, but he had to admit he was freezing. He and Tony skated back to the car quickly. Snowflakes began to fall rapidly down as gusts of wind tried to upset their balance. Tony helped Peter onto the bank and they hurriedly yanked off their ice skates.

They found refuge in the car only when Tony turned the heater up full blast and leaned over the console to pull Peter into his arms. Peter’s shivers that had been worrying him far more than Tony had been willing to say eventually died off and together they watched what was now practically a blizzard raging outside.

“Just in time,” Tony mumbled into Peter’s curls. “Feel any better, baby?”

He grew worried when he received no response and pulled back. Peter’s eyes were shut and his breathing slow, though he made a small whimpering noise in the back of his throat when Tony pulled away. Tony smiled, a tender, loving light in his eyes and pulled Peter back into his arms, cradling his kid against his chest and rubbing his back soothingly. “‘M here. ‘M here, baby, don’t worry,” he cooed, planting a kiss on his forehead.

Peter curls tickled his cheek, his warm breath heating the skin of Tony’s neck. The console between him and his kid was uncomfortable and hard against his side, but he wouldn’t have moved for the world. Tony held Peter tightly and closed his eyes.

Maybe they could stay there a little while as they waited for the blizzard to pass.

III

Tony had been brewing a hot cup of coffee in the kitchen when a disheveled, sniffling, sleepy Peter face-planted into his back.

“Whoa, bud!” Tony spun around and caught the boy under the armpits. “Hey, hey. Are you okay?” He tilted Peter’s chin back and found that his nose was bright red, his eyes were half-lidded, and his bedhead was a lot worse (though still absolutely adorable) than it usually was.

“‘M fine,” Peter sniffled, leaning heavily against his chest. “Missed you.”

“Oh, baby,” Tony murmured, wrapping his arms around the small teen, “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, okay?” He gave his definitely-not-sick spider-baby a smooch on his temple. “You’re pretty warm,” he noted with a hint of worry in his voice. He pressed the back of his hand to the teen’s forehead. “Do you wanna lie down, kiddo?”

Peter shook his head weakly. “Wan’ you.”

Tony’s heart melted and he turned into a pile of mush. In this tired, sick, achy state Peter was clingier than ever, and all he wanted was him. He wanted Tony. He kissed Peter’s temple. “I’m gonna stay right here, Petey, don’t worry,” he assured his kid. “I promise.”

Tony held Peter with one arm while he rummaged through the kitchen cabinets with the other. “FRI? What’s up with the spider-baby?”

“Peter is exhibiting symptoms of a common cold, such as coughing, sneezing, a runny nose, and a fever,” the AI replied. Tony felt a pang of worry and empathy in his heart.

“Okay. I’ve got your pain meds,” he announced in a whisper. “Do you want water or OJ?”

Peter decided on the latter, not bothering to raise his head but simply mumbling “juice” into the man’s chest. Tony hummed in agreement and attempted to pour a glass for himself one-handedly (most of the juice ended up on the counter, but holding his sick kid was far more important than pouring orange juice).

He led the boy to the couch, a steadying hand around his shoulders. Peter snuggled against him, coughing and sniffling. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and shivered.

Tony placed two white pills into palm. Peter took a hesitant sip of his drink and gulped down the pills. Tony tucked an errant curl behind his ear and placed a kiss one his temple.

With Peter still in his hold, he strained to reach the weighted electric blanket that had fallen behind the couch. With a painful crack from his twisted back, he finally managed to get his fingers around the feather-soft blanket and settled back on the couch with a triumphant grunt.

He wrapped the electric blanket tightly around them both. Peter’s shivering caused a surge of fierce protection to run through his veins, and Tony hugged him to his chest, pressing a kiss to his soft, though slightly sweaty curls. He glared at the dark corners of the room, as if somehow the very cold that was making his child suffer so much would leap from the shadows.

Peter found comfort in the vibrations of Tony’s chest and the beat of his heart. The calloused fingers running through his hair and the occasional kiss against his temple soothed him beyond measure, and without ever realizing it, Peter started to drift off. Compared to when he had woken up, soaked with sweat, wheezing and sniffling and rather nauseous, he felt so much better in his father-figure’s embrace.

Dimly, he noticed that Tony was talking to him. He thought he recognized the words coming out of his mouth, and he realized suddenly that Tony was reading Mr. Willowby’s Christmas Tree to him. That book had been Peter’s favorite when he was a small toddler, and hearing the familiar words aloud brought a big burst of happiness to his chest.

Peter let his eyes slip shut for a second. The headache that had been pounding in his head was completely gone and in Tony’s arms, he felt incredibly warm and cozy and happy.

When his eyes opened again, he determined that Tony had finished reading the book. If he had had enough energy, he would have asked him to read another. But much to his delight, he realized Tony had already picked up another book.

And just before his eyes fluttered shut, he heard Tony’s gentle voice speaking, full of love. “I love you, Petey.”

I love you too.

“Mmm, Tony, the spaghetti was fantastic!” May exclaimed as she loaded her plate into the dishwasher. “I need that recipe, it’s just too good!”

Tony looked at Peter out of the corner of his eyes. The boy shook his head frantically and drew a finger across his throat. Tony snickered. “Thank you, May, I’m glad to hear that,” he said.

To be completely truthful, he felt like throwing up. During the dinner, Peter had chatted enough to distract him, but now his emotions were left to himself, and Tony had barely been swallowed by them. He stuffed the last plate in the dishwasher and took a few long, deep breaths. He massaged his forehead and blinked, sitting down heavily on the couch.

Tony’s heart was beating out of his chest. He looked up to the boy, who was texting someone- probably Ned, completely oblivious. “Pete?” he began shakily. “Do you think we could talk for a second?” He and May shared a glance. She realized immediately what he was about to do and gave him an encouraging smile and a thumbs up.

“Yeah!” Peter vaulted onto the couch with a laugh. His grin faded when he saw how worried, how scared the man looked. Alarm kindled in his chest. “What’s wrong, Mr. Stark?”

Tony couldn’t bring himself to laugh at the cookie crumbs in the corners of his mouth or the way his hair frizzed everywhere as he pulled his Santa hat off. He swallowed and took a deep breath.

“Um-” Tony had to clear his throat. He reached down and grabbed a briefcase leaning against the couch that Peter hadn’t noticed before. “Uh,” he tried. He pulled two papers out of the briefcase and stared at them for a long while. “Do you think that you could give these a read, kiddo?”

Peter nodded silently and took them. He looked up at Tony, his head tilted in confusion.

He looked to the papers. His eyes widened in disbelief. “W-what? I-” He turned the papers over as if there would be a sticky note saying “IT'S A PRANK!” on the back. “What? W-what? I-I don’t-” Peter shook his head.

He couldn’t stop looking at those cream-colored papers.

Child: Peter Benjamin Parker

Adopting Parent(s): Anthony Edward Stark

The rest of the paper was blank, except for Tony’s signature at the bottom.

“Am I asleep? This-this is a dream, right?” Peter's eyes were filling with tears but he didn’t bother to wipe them away.

“It’s not a dream, sweetheart,” May said gently. “It’s real.” She squeezed his knee, hoping to ground him.

“Really?” He opened his mouth but couldn’t seem to form words. He gaped like a fish, reading the adoption papers over and over again. “You-you wanna adopt me?” he finally managed to squeak out.

Tony finally gathered the courage to look at his kid. “Yeah, baby. But only if you want to, okay? Nothing would change, though. We’d- just be making it official. Everything would be the same except-” He throat closed, and suddenly he couldn’t speak.

Except Peter would be his official son- legally, on paper. And Tony would be his official dad. (There was no way Tony wasn’t already his dad.)

“What are you thinking, baby?” he murmured, instinctively tucking a curl behind Peter’s ear with shaky hands.

Tony’s gentle touch was enough to break the dam of emotions that had been holding back. Peter sniffled, then burst into tears and practically jumped into his dad’s arms.

Tony hugged him tightly, rubbing a hand up and down his back and pressing long kisses to his temple. Peter blubbered into his chest, happy tears soaking Tony’s sweater. May wrapped her arms around the two and squeezed them both tightly.

Tony felt tears prickle in his own eyes and he dropped his forehead to Peter’s curls. “Is that a yes?” he finally managed to say.

Peter giggled wetly and nodded frantically against his chest.

A grin as wide as a dinner plate crossed Tony’s face. He realized suddenly that tears were streaming down his cheeks, but he didn’t wipe them away. He kissed the top of Peter's head and squeezed him tighter.

May pressed a quick kiss on Peter’s cheek and stood up. “I’ll be back in a bit,” she said, sensing that the father and son might want a moment alone.

Tony rocked his kid back and forth, rubbing his back and pressing kiss after kiss to his cheek. “I love you,” he murmured into his chestnut curls. “I love you.” IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou.

“Love you,” Peter babbled. “I love you too. I love you.”

He held Peter at an arm’s length, still grinning. Then he pulled his kid back to him again and kissed his cheek, wiping away his tears with the pad of his thumb. “I love you.”

Peter sniffled, wiping his nose with his sweater. He wrapped his arms around Tony’s neck and curled around him like a koala. He leaned heavily against his dad’s chest, his breathing beginning to even out. Tony’s chest vibrated with every “I love you so much, Petey” and his ceaseless murmurs of love and comfort.

“Love you, Dad,” he said sleepily, his eyelids drooping.

A lump formed in Tony’s throat that he couldn’t seem to swallow past. Tears started to trickle down his cheeks. “Petey-” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “I love you so much. So damn much, okay?” He ran his hand up and down the boy’s back, kissing his temple and trying to blink his happy tears away.

Tony felt himself slowly drifting asleep. He blinked, and then his cheek was resting on his kid’s curls. His eyes closed again, and suddenly May was there, draping a blanket over them. He tried to tell her to get Peter’s special heated blanket, because his poor kid couldn’t thermoregulate and absolutely hated the cold. Then he realized that she had already tucked it around the boy and sighed in relief, finally letting himself relax.

May settled on the opposite side of Peter and wrapped an arm around him. Within minutes she was snoring quietly, but Tony was too tired to notice. A wave of joy and peace and love washed over him, and his eyes slipped shut.

~~~~~

/ST*RKERS DNI/

~~~~~

Taglist: @imissyoutoo @aj-that-person @tonystark-deserves-better @nathaly-ab @skeeter-110 @peter-and-tony-vlogs @teammightypen @joyful-soul-collector @loveliestdisappointment @depuella @scwene-qween @honeythepooh @pixiethefirecat7 @spider-man-lover @jami161 @bringitonvoldie @queen-of-sarcasm-25 @roxy3457 @memilon @iron-loyalty @gralaca @bitchingpretty @pillowspace @thatminecraftgal @clockworkteacup @hatakehikari @wtfischeese @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @skydiving-without-a-parachute @yansi1923 @slytherin-hamilton-life-12 @dead-inside-pt2 @name-me-regret @zanderljones @spidy8664 @hold-our-destiny

If anyone wants to be added/ removed please let me know!

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mnemosyne-musing · 3 years

Text

Spoilers (River/12) prompt #7

Final one for prompt week! This has been so much fun (although my thesis has been sorely neglected this week. Oops 😬). Thanks to @riversofmars for coordinating!

ao3 link here

“Things end. That's all. Everything ends, and it's always sad. But everything begins again too, and that's always happy. Be happy. I'll look after everything else”

The Doctor turns on his heel and retreats to the safety of the TARDIS as quickly as he can. His collar suddenly feels too tight, much too tight and he loosens the top buttons with a shaking hand just so he can breathe. He closes his eyes and swallows painfully.

Be happy. A lot easier said than done apparently.

He reaches a shaking hand into his jacket pocket and pulls out an envelope. Holding it in front of him, he traces the writing on the front with a gentle hand.

He knows that sloping handwriting better than his own. He’s seen it pop up on his psychic paper countless times over the years, seen it on scrawled notes left around the TARDIS and their house on Darillium, crosswords that they’d spend a lazy Sunday afternoon completing or notes jotted in the side of books or poems.

Mum and Dad

She had finally got to a place in her relationship with her parents where they were all comfortable with who they were and what had happened. She’d opened up a bit during their twenty-four years together. Told him things that he’d assumed but never heard her say. That her relationship with Amy and Rory would never be quite like a normal parent-child relationship. It never could be really. A part of them was always going to mourn the baby daughter they had for such precious few moments. But it was as close as they were going to get and both they and River had accepted that.

And now they would never see her again.

She’d written this letter during the final few months on Darillium. The final few things she wanted to tell them.

“I’m always there for Christmas,” she’d told him, a small smile on her face, clearly thinking about all the holidays she’d already spent there, “If there’s an empty space at the table then you’ll know.”

He’d agreed to make sure it got to them. To fix the time disruptions around New York so that he could get the TARDIS there safely. So they wouldn’t be left for years with an empty place at the table. Just waiting and hoping.

He reaches out a hand for the controls but he doesn’t even manage to touch them before he feels his throat closing up again. Snatching his hand back, he clenches his fists tightly and strides away from the console, shutting his eyes against the tide of grief that threatens to overwhelm him again.

Not today. He just can’t.

He will do it. He owes her that much. But not today.

He disappears off with Nardole for a while. He saves some people here and there, gets involved with a free jazz band for a while, invents a new blend of tea. It’s a while before he feels strong enough to try and deliver the letter again.

He waits until Nardole has pottered off for the evening and then sets the coordinates, putting the TARDIS into silent and invisible mode, and pulls the lever. As the TARDIS lands, he takes a deep breath and pulls the monitor towards him with a shaking hand. The screen flickers to life and he stares at the scene in front of him. He’s parked in the back yard of a house. There’s snow on the ground around him and he can see the remnants of a snowman that’s half melted back into the ground.

He looks up towards the house and his breath catches. Through the kitchen window he can see a familiar festive scene. There’s Amy, no mistaking her despite the paper Christmas hat sat on her head, stood with her back to the window. In the background, he can see a table all set up for Christmas dinner. Amy’s obviously talking to someone as she suddenly throws her head back and laughs. He smiles, despite himself and reaches up to gently touch the screen.

“Oh, Amelia,” he whispers softly, thinking back to all the Christmases he’d spent with the Ponds in his previous incarnation. Amy and Rory’s good-natured bickering over the cooking, Amy insisting they all play charades after dinner, Rory trying not to glower at the pair of them as River’s hand slowly inched somewhere inappropriate.

A door in front of Amy opens and he suddenly catches sight of Rory. He starts as he realises Rory is holding a baby. Holding a baby and still looking quite young by the looks of things which means…

“Bugger,” he swears under his breath, realising he’s got the timing wrong. If Anthony is still a baby then this is still many years before River’s last visit. She’d told him that one of the very last times she’d been to see them that Anthony had just graduated from high school. It was one of her regrets that she wouldn’t get to see him go to college. He can’t deliver the letter now. He won’t condemn her parents to years of what he’s had to live with. The knowledge that her death is just waiting out there in the universe.

He gives one last look at the monitor before shaking his head and pulling the console lever, the TARDIS dematerialising as he stares at the now blank screen. He doesn’t let himself think too deeply about just who might have been laughing and talking with Amy in the kitchen just then. He shakes his head again. It doesn’t do to dwell on ghosts.

He tries again a week or so later. His timing is not much better. Anthony is a chubby toddler now. Running round and causing all sorts of havoc. He watches as Rory tries in vain to marshal him away from the Christmas tree with all the presents stashed under it. There was always a present for him when he’d visited before. Sometimes it was just a new pair of fancy socks or a packet of jammy dodgers. Other times it might be a new gadget or toy. He can recall at least one year River starting to get grumpy that he was paying more attention to his new yoyo than he was to her.

He lingers just a moment or two before tearing his gaze away and disappearing into the vortex.

His next attempt lands him a couple of years later. This time he’s landed in what looks like the local park. He can see Amy and Rory all bundled up and keeping a close eye on an energetic looking little boy of around four or five. He watches them as Rory chases Anthony, giggling like mad and wearing a woollen bobble hat that wobbles with every step he takes. He lets himself watch for a few minutes this time before feeling the familiar urge to wrench himself away bubbles up and he can’t take it any longer.

The pattern continues in a similar vein for a while. He tries to pilot the TARDIS to the correct year and each time she takes him just a little bit later on but not quite far enough. Always at Christmas time as well. He grumbles out loud and glares at the console but deep down he knows why she’s doing it. Just the thought of seeing the Ponds the first time had almost been enough to undo him. But by seeing bits of their life gradually, watching them as a family and how they’ve made the most of being in New York, maybe now he could face them?

Or maybe not? A part of him is still very tempted to just post the letter through their door and then run. He’s always been so good at running.

A couple of times during these visits, he’s caught sight of someone else in their house. There’s been a brief flash of golden curls at the edge of the room or a fleeting glimpse of a very familiar form disappearing through a door. He’s never seen her properly. He doesn’t think his fragile hearts would be able to cope. He can now just about stomach seeing the Ponds, but River? No, not yet. Maybe not ever?

He knows he’s getting close to the end of River’s visits. Anthony is a tall, gangly teenager now and on his last visit he overhears talk of him going to college the following year. He swallows heavily and quickly pilots the TARDIS away.

This time he stays away for a while. He’s busies himself with a university lecturing job and actually enjoys staying in one place. He’d never thought he’d be able to stomach the mundanity of a job but twenty-four years in one place has taught him the value of staying still. Well, for most of the time. His new companion, Bill, is wonderful and exactly what he needs. He puts a photo of River on his desk and even starts to talk about her. Just the occasional comment or remark. The first time he manages to say her name without choking, Nardole gives him a little nod of encouragement. He pretends not to notice and simply scowls to himself.

The TARDIS lands and he peers tentatively at the monitor. This time, he’s landed actually inside their house. He opens the door and finds himself inside a living room. He takes a few tentative steps inside, shutting the door quietly behind him. It’s a large room with several comfy looking armchairs and a sofa along one wall facing the fireplace. On the walls, alongside some art work, are framed copies of book covers. He moves closer and sees that they are books that Amy has published.

He looks at them for a few moments and then turns towards the mantel where there are a few framed photos placed amongst the few trinkets. There are a few of the three of them, a picture of Anthony in his high school graduation outfit and one of him as a cheeky toddler, his face covered in ice-cream as he beams at the camera. What draws his gaze though, is the photo in the middle of the mantelpiece. At first glance, it seems a little blurred and out of focus, as if the photographer had caught everyone slightly unawares. It’s obviously from a few years ago now in one of the local parks. Anthony is in the foreground feeding some ducks but it is the two people sat on the bench behind them that he stares at. River and Amy are sat side by side, unaware of the camera, an almost identical expression of delight on their faces as they laugh at a shared joke.

He reaches out a finger and traces it down the photo, a wistful smile curling his lips despite the lump in his throat.

“My Ponds,” he murmurs.

He lingers a moment or two before he shakes himself and turns towards the door. He walks out into the corridor, keeping an ear out all the time for anyone else in the house. It’s dark outside but it’s still early evening so he could easily encounter someone at any moment. There isn’t a sound to be heard though as he makes his way slowly down the corridor and into the kitchen.

He stops inside the doorway and stares at the dining table. He’s obviously arrived on Christmas Day again as the table bears the remnants of the festive meal with abandoned paper hats still scattered amongst the empty plates and dishes. What makes the breath catch in his throat though is not the festivities but the empty place, still set and unused, at the head of the table.

He swallows heavily as he stares at the still pristine crockery, River’s words reverberating in his head.

“If there’s an empty place, you’ll know it’s time.”

He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out the letter. The envelope is now worn and creased, the ink slightly faded from all the times he’s run his fingers over the words there.

He approaches the table and carefully sets the letter down, propped up against an empty wine glass so it will be seen by whoever next enters the room. A wave of nausea suddenly wells up out of nowhere and he abruptly feels the need to be very far away. He turns swiftly on his heel, meaning to head out the door as soon as possible but as soon as he does so he freezes.

Stood, leaning against the doorway, her arms folded and head tilted to one side with a slightly amused expression on her face, is his wife.

He opens his mouth but all the possible words suddenly fail him at that moment and he simply gapes at her. Her hair is down around her shoulders and she’s wearing a dark red dress with just a hint of a teasing neckline. She looks exactly as she had all those years ago when he’d last seen her on Darillium. She looks perfect.

“Well, I can’t say that’s the Christmas greeting I was hoping for from my husband this year,” River says after a few moments where he continues to stare open-mouthed at her.

“Christmas greeting? But you, you’re-? I mean-“

River raises one eyebrow as he finally manages to engage his brain enough to produce some words.

“Was any of that supposed to make sense, sweetie?”

He frowns at her as her lips quirk up in amusement and forces himself to say something comprehensible. “You know who I am?” he demands, “This face,” he points to himself, unable to stop the kernel of hope that rises inside him, “You know me?”

“The big blue box in my parents’ living room was a bit of a giveaway,” she says, nodding towards the other room and instantly that little bit of hope inside him dies. He’s too early again. He might even have to wipe this memory from her to preserve the timelines. “And the fact that you’re clearly trying to run off before anyone sees you.”

He watches her as she pushes off the doorframe and slowly walks towards him. There’s a lump in his throat as he silently curses the TARDIS in every possible language for bringing him here now.

“You fixed the time disturbances then,” she remarks as he nods silently, still watching her every movement.

She stops just out of arm’s reach and just looks at him, her gaze raking up and down before she nods towards the table.

“You’ve missed Christmas dinner.”

“Not really that hungry,” he says hoarsely, still staring at her, hoping she doesn’t glance down and see her own letter. She’ll recognise her own handwriting and will immediately guess why he might be delivering her parents such a letter.

“Pity,” River replies, a small smirk again playing around her lips, “Maybe I can entice you with dessert.”

He lets out a small huff of laughter despite himself and shakes his head at her. “You’re incorrigible.”

She smiles properly this time. “Thank you, sweetie.”

She glances towards the table and he sees her frown as he gaze falls on the envelope. He starts to panic. He clears his throat and says almost the first thing that comes into his head.

“Hang on, you said I missed Christmas dinner?”

She turns back to him with a small frown and nods. “Yes. We ate earlier. Mum, dad and Anthony have all gone for a walk.”

He shakes his head and turns to the table, gesturing to the other side. “No, but that’s not right. There’s your empty place there.”

She glances back at the table and then back to him, looking at him closely. “Oh, Doctor,” she sighs fondly, “Count the places. It’s not for me. It’s for you.”

“For me?”

She nods and then steps in towards him, reaching out a tentative hand to stroke a finger down his jacket lapel.

“They always lay a place for you. Remember?”

He shakes his head again and looks between River and the empty table place. His throat suddenly feels all dry, like he can’t swallow properly and there’s that small, tiny beacon of hope that’s lit up inside him again, that he doesn’t dare speak out loud but that won’t now go away.

“Just ask me, Doctor,” River says softly, cutting through his thoughts.

He stares at her as she looks up at him, a soft smile playing around her lips. His mouth still feels far too dry but he licks his lips and takes a deep breath.

“When are we, River?” he manages to choke out.

She stays where she is, one hand still idly playing with the buttons of his jacket. “Well, we’ve clearly done Manhattan because-,” she gestures vaguely at his face as he rolls his eyes at her prevaricating, “Then there was a bit of time apart, which I think was rather longer for you than me but-“

“River,” he growls, glaring at her as she raises her eyebrows innocently.

She moves in even closer to him, her lips now only inches from his. “Oh yes, well we did then have that rather wonderful twenty-four years together. How could I forget?”

His breath hitches. She’s done Darillium. Which must mean she’s either just before the Library or…

She pauses briefly, looking up at him and it’s so still he thinks he can hear his own hearts beating. “And then I had to spend rather too much time for my liking in a computer hard-drive before-“

She doesn’t get the chance to finish that sentence as he cuts her off. He cups her face in his hands and kisses her hard. Her mouth opens eagerly under his and she tastes exactly as he remembers. She’s here, she’s real, she’s in his arms and somehow she has escaped the Library. In his haze of happiness, he finally manages to tear his lips away from hers.

“How?” he rasps, his thumbs stroking over her cheeks reverently as she smiles up at him.

River simply shakes her head and presses herself closer to him. She leans in and before she kisses him again, she whispers what must be his new favourite iteration of this word.

“Spoilers!”

#river x twelve #riverdoctorpromptweek #phew all done!#this was so fun though

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peggyrose19 · 4 years

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Skating, Kisses, and Hot Chocolate

Wow, this turned out much longer than I expected, oops. I got this idea from an ask Hazel got on tumblr about Leo headcanons and she said that he barely ever pond skates, but FinnLo wanted to change that. And so this was born. Did I write this instead of doing my stats homework? It’s possible. But that’s not due ‘til Tuesday so it’s fine. I even proofread this, be proud. This is on my a03 as well, the username is the same as here. Characters belong to the wonderful @lumosinlove

Summary: It’s the Lion’s winter break and the cubs have decided to take a trip to New Hampshire to get away from it all for a bit. While there, Logan and Finn, but mostly Logan, drag Leo pond skating, which he hates. Mild shenanigans ensue. There’s snow, there’s ice, there’s hot chocolate and love. Hope you guys like it!

The boys had convinced Leo to go pond skating with them. He still wasn’t entirely sure how, because he hated it, but there he was, sitting beside them on the gazebo bench, carefully lacing his skates up. They were somewhere in New Hampshire for Christmas, staying in a cute cottage that really wasn’t small enough to be considered a cottage, but was certainly cute. And Logan, in his earnest search of touristy things to do, had found a small farm that offered ice skating and carriage rides.

Logan had immediately jumped on the idea, Finn requiring little convincing as well, and soon Leo had found both boys staring up at him with puppy dog eyes, pressing teasing kisses to his neck and cheeks. He’d been helpless to say no.

And so, here he was, zipping his jacket and pulling his gloves on and following Logan onto the ice.

His first impression was that he was cold. He was used to the rink, which, while not exactly toasty warm, was at least above freezing. But outdoors it was well below freezing, and it was windy too.

His second impression was that the ice was not smooth. He had kicked off from the stairs, expecting to glide smoothly across the ice to the far bank, but he made it only a few yards before he came to a halting stop. Logan was ahead of him, skating backwards and grinning wildly.

Leo twisted, spotting Finn on his right, red hair escaping from his hat and curling around his temples. He was grinning as well, smirking at Leo’s sad attempts.

“Don’t laugh at me,” he complained and Logan cackled.

“Aw, Peanut, it’s okay,” Logan crooned. “You’ll get used to it.”

“It’s so rough,” he whined. “I’m not even going anywhere.”

Logan just held out a hand. “C’mon.” Reluctantly, Leo grabbed it and was immediately pulled forward. His foot slipped and he suddenly found himself in Logan’s arms, inches from the ground.

Finn cracked up.

“Are you guys okay?” he got out, gasping for breath, skating towards them.

“We’re fine,” Leo said, righting himself and Logan, but not letting go of his hand. “Thanks for catching me Tremz.”

Logan sent him a flirty smile and pressed a quick kiss to his mouth before pulling away and holding his other hand out to Finn. Together, the three of them made their way across the ice, Leo tripping along the way and each time being caught by his boyfriends.

As they skated, Leo slowly got the hand of it, getting more used to the bumps and cracks that littered the natural ice. They built up a rhythm, all of them kicking off with the same foot at the same time. They did a full lap around the pond, under both bridges and down the small finger that extended out and over to the edge where the water spilled into a small waterfall.

“How did you even find this place, Tremz?” Leo asked as they began another lap, still hand-in-hand.

Logan shrugged. “It was in some brochure that I found. It looked cute. Plus, it’s festive.” He pointed up at the wreaths that adorned the bridge they were about to skate under. “There’s even music playing.”

At that, they all fell silent, listening for the faint instrumentals that were indeed playing from the speakers mounted on the bridges.

“It’s nice here.” Finn finally broke the silence. “I’m glad you found it.”

Logan added, “Yeah, it’s fun.”

Both looked at Leo when he said nothing. He frowned and grumbled something in French under his breath, and they broke out in laughter. He fought it, but a smile poked at the edges of Leo’s mouth. Even if he wouldn’t admit it, he was having a little bit of fun.

They continued skating, going around the pond again, listening to the music and the wind whistling through the trees. The three of them were the only ones there at the moment, alone on the ice.

“Let’s race,” Logan said suddenly, breaking away from Leo.

“What?”

“I wanna race!” He grinned, and it lit up his face. Leo shook his head in disbelief.

“Race where, exactly?”

Logan surveyed the pond before pointing to the other end, which ended in a rather large snowbank a few dozen yards away. “There.”

“I’m in,” Finn said eagerly.

“Of course you are,” Leo grumbled. He sighed. “Fine.”

Logan cheered.

“Okay. Ready?” They all got in position. “And…..go!”

They all took off, racing across the pond, skates digging into the ice. Even Leo, despite his misgivings, was keeping up.

“Argh, no!” Finn shouted as he fell behind by maybe a foot. They were almost to the finish. Leo glanced back at him with a smirk and immediately lost his balance.

Leo yelped as he lurched forward and tumbled to the ground, straight into the snowbank.

Slowly, Leo extracted himself and brushed the snow off his face and jacket with as much dignity as he could muster. He turned to see his boys both fighting a laugh as they stared at him in disbelief.

“Nut…did you really just fall into a snowbank?”

“Fuck off, Harzy.”

“You’re a professional hockey player…and you fell into a snowbank.” Logan’s voice was shaking.

“You tripped…into a snowbank,” Finn echoed.

Leo glared at them.

“You have snow in your hair, babe,” Finn said and he reached out to brush it away.

In a split second, Leo grabbed Finn’s outstretched had and launched him into the snowbank. He spun around and grabbed Logan as well, pulling him closer until they both fell too, landing on top of Finn with a grunt.

There was a stunned silence before Logan and Finn both burst out in laugher.

“Did…did you just…throw us into the snow?” Logan barely managed to get the words out in between laughs. “Leo.”

“You deserved it,” Leo said primly, but he was smiling.

“Oh, my god, I can’t believe you just did that,” Finn gasped, wiping snow from his face. “I can’t- that was so childish. You’re never childish.”

“Hmph.”

“Aw, baby,” Finn crooned, and pulled Leo in for a kiss and his frown softened. Logan pressed against him, brushing his lips against Leo’s cheek.

“Hey, it’s snowing!” Logan said suddenly, looking up. Leo and Finn pulled away from each other. Leo held a hand out, waiting for a snowflake to land on it. They stayed that way, watching, for probably a bit too long considering they’d all seen snow before.

In fact, they stayed there long enough that Leo began shivering. The cold of the snow was seeping through his clothes and he was beginning to get damp too. The wind whipped at his cheeks and nose and seemingly right through his windbreaker.

“I’m cold,” he whined and both looked at him.

Logan stared disbelievingly. “You’re cold? Knutty, we play hockey. A winter sport. That takes place on ice. In a large ice cooler. How are you cold?”

“It’s cold out.” He was becoming petulant but he couldn’t quite muster the energy to care. “I’m from NOLA, there’s no such thing as snow there. And it is significantly warmer at the rink.”

Finn smiled a bit at that, and pushed himself to his feet, reaching out help Leo up as well. “C’mon babe. Let’s get you inside and warmed up.”

Later, when they got back to the house they were renting, they all showered and changed, slipping into sweats and each other’s sweaters. Finn and Logan wandered into the living room, settling on the couch with far too many blankets and gazing out the window to their right, at the quickly setting sun. Leo headed outside to the nearby shed, which housed a fair amount of precut firewood.

Leo brought the wood inside and settled before the fireplace in front of the couch, pulling small pieces from the logs and setting them aside.

Finn and Logan watched, entranced, as Leo carefully placed the pieces of wood inside it overtop crumpled pages of old newspapers. He lit a match and held it to the paper, throwing it in after the fire caught and slowly spread to the wood. Carefully, he blew on the small flame for a moment before standing up, satisfied, and turning towards the couch.

“What?” he asked when he caught sight of their faces.

“Where did you learn how to do that?” Finn asked finally, mouth open.

“At home? My dad taught me.” When Finn continued to stare at him, Leo shrugged uncomfortably. “It’s not that special. I could probably show you how.”

“I- it just… you-”

“You okay Fish?” Logan asked.

He cleared his throat. “Yup,” he said, although his voice was an octave higher than usual.

“Kay,” Leo laughed, and sat on his other side, throwing another blanket over them and curling into Logan’s side.

“I want hot chocolate,” Finn announced suddenly.

“You’re a big boy Harz, you can make it yourself,” Logan said, clearly not willing to move.

“You know how to make hot chocolate, it’ll be okay,” Leo added, cheeks flushing slightly as he remembered the last time Finn had made hot chocolate.

“Ugh, fine,” Finn sighed, long and drawn-out, before extracting himself from his spot and heading towards the kitchen. Logan watched him fondly.

“Make some for us too, will you?” Leo called after him with a smirk. He got a grumbled answer in response.

Once Finn was out of sight, Logan turned to Leo, snuggling closer to him and pulling the blankets tighter around them. Leo wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to escape. He pressed a kiss to Logan’s curls, wrapping an arm around him.

“Thanks for taking us skating, Tremz,” he murmured. Logan twisted to look at him.

“I thought you didn’t like it?”

“Well, it might have been a mildly embarrassing situation for me, but I had fun all the same. Any time I get to spend with you two is fun.”

“Aw, look at you, getting all soft.”

“Shut up,” Leo said, and pressed a kiss to Logan’s mouth, effectively doing just that.

Logan was pliant beneath his hands, warm and cuddly, wrapped around him. They fit snugly together, mouths slotting together perfectly, as the fire crackled in the background. Leo felt warm all over. Logan kissed him again and again, soft and sweet, and pulled him impossibly closer.

They only parted when a small gasp sounded from the doorway. Logan looked up and smiled hazily, barely turning away from Leo. In the doorway stood Finn, mouth open, three mugs clutched precariously in his hands. With a laugh, Logan held out an arm, disentangling it from Leo.

“You have the same look on your face any time you walk in on us, Harz,” Leo commented with a laugh.

“Hmm,” was all Finn said as he carefully set the mugs down on the side table.

Finn then crawled practically on top of them, reaching for Leo even as he kissed Logan. Leo grinned, an image of Finn’s face, cheeks flushed from the cold, with kissed-red lips and a sheepish smile, surfacing in his mind.

Leo leaned in and pressed his lips to Logan’s neck, earning him a low groan. Finn’s hand grappled for his arm, pulling him closer.

“Whoa, whoa, careful,” Leo gasped as Finn’s tug nearly sent him off the couch.

“Oops, sorry Nut,” Finn said, looking at him guiltily.

“’s alright,” he replied easily, leaning forward to kiss him gently. He broke away quickly, before Finn could pull him in again, and said, “Let’s have this hot chocolate Finn so nicely prepared for this before it gets cold.” Finn smiled at that, and reached out for the mugs, handing one to Leo.

Logan shrugged and agreed, taking a mug as well. And the three of them sat there, sipping their chocolate and laughing late into the night.

Their drinks were long finished and forgotten, set aside on the table again. They were tangled up in the blankets, faces illuminated by the dwindling fire and moonlight shining through the window. Logan and Finn had just fallen asleep, curled up against each other like kittens. Logan was drooling onto Leo’s shoulder. He didn’t mind.

As he too drifted off, Leo’s last thought was that he wouldn’t change this for anything.

166 notes · View notes

fluffymcu · 3 years

Text

Letting Loose

Requested Chapter 19

This is a continuation of my series and all future chapters that I write for this series will be written as requested chapters

Request: The team and the reader have a snowball fight

Word count: 2,265

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

It’s been 9 months since Ruby Anne has joined the team. You have all come a long way since then and you were proud of the progress that was made. You, Ruby and Peter were on winter break and you had a few inches of snow so you were happy. The trees were so pretty and the yard was like a winter wonderland and there was a small pond about 20 minutes away from the compound on foot so the three of you decided to run down there and ice skate since the pond was frozen. You and Peter would do that every winter and this would be Ruby’s first winter you the team. So, you all jogged down there with your ice skates, bundled up warm.

“Oh my god you’re a natural!” You exclaimed as you watched Ruby speed by you on the ice. She was surprisingly very good at ice skating. Peter still had to skate by you, holding your arm to keep to steady. Unlike her, as much as you practiced every winter, you still couldn’t skate too well.

“Hehe. Yeah, we used to go roller skating a lot when I was younger. This feels about the same, just a little more slippery.” Ruby chuckled, skating away and occasionally skating backwards.

“Oh cool! That sounds aweso-AHH!” You yelped as you lost your balance and slipped, falling right on your butt. Peter gasped and then giggled a bit as he quickly helped you up. You started to laugh too, knowing that you probably looked funny falling like that. “Peheter you're supposed to hehehelp me not fall.” You laughed, rubbing your bottom that was now sore. Peter smiled sheepishly and gave you an apologetic shrug.

“Sorry, I only let go for a second!” He whined.

“Well, knowing me, you should know to never let go of me when I'm skating. I am extremely prone to falling.” You giggled. Ruby was laughing as well, helping you regain your balance.

“It’s ok y/n/n, you’ll get the hang of it eventually.” She tittered. You scoffed and thanked her for helping.

“I hope so..” You sang.

-----

“AHH! Oooow!” You groaned as you fell again. This was the 6th time you fell in the last 20 minutes. Your butt was probably bruised and the cold melted ice had seeped through your layers and now your butt was wet. Peter covered his mouth and gasped again, once again helping you up. Ruby winced with a smile.

“Maaaybe that’s enough skating for now. We should do something else in the snow.” Peter said, rubbing your back comfortingly. Ruby nodded and agreed.

“Yeah, definitely. Something that doesn’t involve falling and bruising our butts.” She laughed. You nodded with a smirk and out your hands on your hips.

“So… what should we do?” You shrugged. Peter hummed for a second before raising his eyebrows and looking at you girls.

“Snowball fight?” He asked. You and ruby smirked.

“Oww! Hey! How much snow are you packing into a single snowball Peter?!?” You yelled as you dove behind your fort. It felt like he was throwing pure rock at you! Peter laughed evilly as he kept preparing more snowballs, gathering as much snow as he could and compressing it tightly into a ball. “Hard as a rock.” He sniggered to himself.

It was a girl’s vs boy fight. You thought that since it was two of you and one of him, you’d have the upper hand easily. But of course, that hasn’t the case.

Ruby stood up from behind the wall and threw 2 snowballs at Peter. One had successfully hit Peter on the shoulder and the other hit the wall of his fort. You tried to make more snowballs to give to Ruby to throw but as the fight progressed, Peter was winning by a long shot.

The fight continued and the three of you were so caught up in the game that you were only brought back to reality when you heard another familiar voice from a few feet away.

“Hey, that’s no fair, Peter’s outnumbered!” Tony said. The three of you looked up to see the rest of the team standing there with smiles on their faces. “He needs some help, right guys?” He asked, Steve, Bucky, Thor and Clint nodding along and agreeing. Nat and Wanda rolled their eyes.

“No! He’s perfectly fine and its perfectly fair!” You yelled. However, the team ignored your protests.

“What do you say, fellas? Boys vs girls?”

“NO! Then we’ll be outnumbered!!”

Steve nodded. “Sounds good. It’s on!” The guys immediately joined Peter’s side making you and Ruby groan. Nat lazily walked to your side and Wanda crouched down next to you.

“I don’t wanna go out into the line of fire so I’ll just be here and make the snowballs for you guys.” Wanda said. You playfully rolled your eyes but agreed.

“Alright ready?” Tony called out. You groaned and poked your head out from the fort.

“Just so you know, this is still totally not fair!” You sang. “There’s 6 guys and only 4 girls. Plus, Wanda is staying behind the fort so technically there’s only 3 girls fighting.”

“Tough cheese, do what you can, and prepare to lose anyway!” Tony quipped, making you growl. “3,2,1, GOOO!”

In a few moments you all were laughing loudly and squealing, as snowballs flew in all directions. You were hit a couple of times and so was Nat and Ruby, but you were surprisingly able to land a few good shots to the opposite team. Thanks to Nat's ninja skills, she was able to easily dodge many snowballs. At some point in the fight, it got really chaotic. There was screaming everywhere and there were no longer organized teams. Girls teamed up with boys, some fought alone; it was crazy. You and Steve were currently teamed up and you were both trying to get Thor. He was by himself but held his own very well. He laughed victoriously, throwing ball after ball of snow to your bodies. Bucky then temporarily joined Thor's team, throwing snowballs at Steve.

When Thor and Bucky wouldn’t relent, Steve turned on you, lifting you up and using you as a shield. You screamed as you started to get hit by all the balls they were throwing. “HEY! YOU TRAITOR!” You yelped. Steve ran away while still holding you in front of him to protect himself from anymore snowballs. “Steve stop!!!” You squealed, kicking your legs in the air when he started running towards Peter's fort. You were getting attacked and you were partially scared because Peter's snowballs hurt and your brother was basically making you the target of them. Luckily, Peter manages to throw one of his snowballs and hit Steve straight in the head.

“OW!” He growls, immediately dropping you on the snow. You cheer and run away while you still can, sticking your tongue out at Steve.

“Ha ha!”

“Jesus, Pete! What are these, white stones?!”

You run away to join Thor's team since he’s doing pretty good, and also because you're mad at Steve. You laugh as you and Thor currently have the upper hand, since the both of you have a system; you make the balls and Thor delivers. His big strong arms allow him to throw the balls at great distances, so even the people running far away don’t stand a chance.

When you peek out of the fort, you see Steve from afar trying to quickly build himself a wall to protect himself. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to get revenge. As you were making more snowballs for Thor, you made up a plan. You would run up to him, avoiding the line of fire, and kick down and destroy his wall. Then, once he's caught off guard, you'd use the snow from the fallen fort and throw it at him, thus getting revenge for turning on you.

You grinned as you prepared enough balls to last Thor for the few minutes that you'd be away, then left. “I’ll be right back Thor!” You said, quickly running over to Steve to commence your plan.

Once you're close enough, you run and jump into the fort like a wrecking ball, turning the wall into a pile of snow. Steve’s eyes widened as he witnessed his hard work get completely wrecked.

“What the-“

You quickly get up on you knees and gather snow in your arms. “This is what you get for betraying me!” you giggled, launching snow at him and tackling him to the ground, shoving snow down his shirt.

He yelped at the sudden cold feeling, grabbing your wrists and pushing you off him. He quickly gets up and shakes off the snow before pinning you to the ground and straddling you. You scream and try to fight back, pushing on his chest and wrestling with him but he easily pins your wrists to your chest with an evil chuckle and digs into your side with his free hand. You squeal, arching your back and squirming around, letting out uncontrollable giggles. “Stohohohop it steheheheheve!” you kick you legs, shrieking when he lets go of your wrists and uses both hands to slide under your long-sleeved shirt and attack your bare belly.

You threw your head back and cackled, trying to rip his hands away but it was futile. You had made the mistake earlier of taking a few layers off you when you started getting hot from all the running around, so now you had just made it extremely easy for Steve to tickle you senseless.

“STEHEHEVE I CAHAHANT!” You cried, squealing loudly when he moved his ice fingers up to your ribs. His cold fingers expertly dug in between each rib, making the sensation unbearable for you.

“Awww, is it a little cold for you? Huh?” He teased, pouting his lip and using a baby voice to tease you. Your laughter went up an octave as you tried to turn and hide your blush. Steve chuckled at your bubbly state and slipped his hands under your arms, causing you to yelp and press your arms to your sides.

“NAHAHAHA PLEHEHEHEASE STEHEVE!” You begged. Steve ignored your protests and began to blow raspberries in the crook of your neck, his cold nose touching behind your ear making you squeal. You couldn’t take this much longer and needed to call for help. “HEHEHELP IHIHTS TOO MUHUHUCH!” You yelled, hoping to catch the attention of anyone on the team. “HELP HE'S CHEATIHIHIHING!” You laugh harder as Steve wiggles his fingers in your belly button, knowing how that drives you crazy.

Finally, Tony looks over to you and sees you getting wrecked by Steve. He chuckles, rolling his eyes before nudging Clint who’s next to him. Clint looks over to where he's pointing and sighs. “Of course.”

“SOMEONE PLEHEHEHEASE! HAHAH!”

Tony tilts his head to the side and sighs dramatically, catching the attention of the team, “Alright; new rules. Everybody go for Steve.” He tutted, everyone quickly bombarding Steve with snowballs.

Steve stops tickling you and grunts, raising his arms up to protect his upper body as he falls to his side, allowing you to escape. You quickly get up in a fit of giggles and run away, diving behind a fort with Nat and Peter. When the team finally stops throwing snow at him, Steve gets up and chases you again.

You shriek when you see him running towards you and you run away. You try to reach Thor again but he quickly catches you and carries you up with one arm while bending down and grabbing some snow, getting his revenge by shoving it down your back. You scream and arch your back, kicking your legs out. “AHH! STOHOHOP ITS COHOHOLD! NOOO!” You squeal. When Steve gets enough snow under your clothes, he drops you and runs. You growl and get up, shaking out all the remaining snow before jumping behind the nearest fort; which is Tony's.

Tony throws a few more snowballs over his wall before quickly retreating, diving behind and sitting with his back against the wall. He looks at you sideways in all seriousness, panting heavily. “This is more chaotic than the battle of New York.” He spat. You laughed at that, and started to help him make more snowballs.

Just in time, as the team had started to get tired, Pepper rode in on one of the golfcarts to meet you guys and tell you to come in. “Oh, my goodness, you all are covered in snow!” she exclaimed with a surprised smile on her face.

“Yup! It was one hell of a fight.” Clint chuckles.

Pepper hummed and shook her head briefly. “Well I hope you guys had fun, there's hot chocolate waiting inside for all of you so, come back in and warm up.” She says, waving towards home and driving back to the compound. The rest of you all pack up your sweaters and skates, walking back in a group to the compound, talking and laughing amongst each other.

In no time, everyone is joined in the living room around the fireplace, warming up and drinking their hot chocolate. Jarvis turns on the tv and puts on Home Alone, making everybody smile. You're cuddled up on the couch next to Thor, Peter laying on his side on the carpet, and Ruby Anne is cuddled up to Tony, who has an arm around her, rubbing up and down comfortingly. You smile and sigh happily, turning your attention back to the movie, laughing at Harry and Marv’s antics.

#ticklish!reader #tickle fight #tickle fic #avengers tickle #marvel tickle #tickle fluff #steve tickles reader #steve x reader #peter x reader #peter parker x reader #avengers #marvel #marvel mcu #peter parker #bucky barnes #captain america #spiderman #steve rogers

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waywardodysseys · 3 years

Text

Eight Days of Christmas - Day 7

It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x female reader

Warnings: cussing

Summary: Your twelfth Christmas with Ransom Drysdale.

Day 1 / Day 2 / Day 3 / Day 4 / Day 5 / Day 6

(divider by @firefly-graphics)

Ransom grabs the two sleds from the back of the SUV as you unbuckle Oliver from his car seat. Laughter and screams pierce the air from Flagstaff Hill, one of Boston’s most iconic sledding spots, as they descend the long and wide slope. It was a perfect place to sled especially since ten inches of snow covered the ground the previous night into the morning hours.

“I wanna go now!” Oli exclaims as you place him on the ground. “Daddy!”

“Yes, Oli?” Ransom questions as he rounds the vehicle and sets his eyes on his three-year-old son; he then moves his blue eyes to his seven-month pregnant wife. He smiles as he watches you close the door. The Drysdale family of four sounded perfect to him, and to you, as he recalled when trying to coax you to have another child. And yes, it was he who wanted another child, mainly because he wanted to see you pregnant again, yet he didn't want Oliver to be an only child like he had been growing up.

“I’mma ready to slide! Go fast!” Oliver boasts as he jogs towards his father.

Ransom places the sleds against the car before scooping up his son. “Once we get over there, we’ll go. Okay?” He lowers his voice to a whisper, “We also have to convince momma to join us too.”

“Momma! You comin’ too!” Oliver shouts towards you.

Ransom chuckles and shakes his head. He walks over to you and places a kiss on your cheek. “Join us.”

The prickliness of his short, trimmed beard sends a shiver down your spine. “How about you two gentlemen go first? I’ll watch,” you remark as you rub your belly. “She’s been active today.”

Ransom raises his brows. “Still thinking it's a girl?”

“Yes, because I don't want to be outnumbered,” you respond with a laugh. You two didn’t want to know the sex of the baby as you had with Oliver. Both of you wanted to be surprised this go around.

Oli kicks out his arms and legs. “Let’s go! Let’s go!”

Ransom laughs as he lowers Oliver to the ground. He watches his son grab a sled and run over to the horde of people, eagerly awaiting their turn to go down the hill. He turns back to you, “You will be joining us later?”

You nod, “Of course, I will.” You reach out and cup his cheek, your thumb strokes his skin, feeling the hairs of the beard you had finally persuaded him to grow out. “I want to watch my husband and son enjoy some quality time together. They’re becoming an inseparable duo.”

Ransom places a hand on your belly, “And if she’s anything like her mother, you two will be putting me in an earlier grave than I originally thought.”

You pinch Ransom’s side playfully. “Ah! I knew you were thinking it’s a girl, too.” You kiss Ransom soundly then laugh. “Go have some fun!”

“Roger that sweetheart.” Ransom remarks before placing a brief kiss on your lips then jogging over to Oli still waiting in line.

After a few times of sledding down the hill, Ransom and Oliver lure you into joining them with promises of a feet rub from Ransom and a clean room from Oliver. Oliver sits on his sled while you settle between Ransom’s legs on the other one. You scoot back and wiggle your ass against Ransom who emits a low moan. “Be careful, sweetheart. There are other people present.”

“Ransom!” you shriek. You then lower your voice, “Just trying to get comfortable.”

He chuckles as he wraps an arm around you and places his hand on your belly. “My beautiful wife is pregnant! I can’t help it!”

“Well, control yourself. Like you just said there are others present,” you whisper.

“Momma? Daddy? You ready?” Oli inquires.

“Yes.” you and Ransom answer in unison.

“You go first,” Ransom remarks as he motions towards the hill.

Oliver smiles and nods. He pushes himself and begins sliding down the hill. His joyful screams moving through the air. It’s a melody you and Ransom will never tire of.

“You ready, Missus Drysdale?” Ransom notices you’re quiet. “What’s wrong? The baby?”

You shake your head. “No. His smile reminds me of his father’s. A miniature Ransom, as your mom and Harlan say.”

Ransom rubs your belly. “And she’ll be a miniature you.” He pauses briefly. “We are holding up the line. Ready?”

“I am.” you respond, and a second later Ransom pushes off and the two of you begin sledding down the hill. Your laughter fills the air, along with Ransom’s, who is holding tightly onto you, making sure you are secure.

In a fleeting rush, you and Ransom are at the bottom of the hill where Oliver is waiting for you. Both you and Ransom are in a fit of laughter as your heart races from the adrenaline of speeding down the slope. Ransom finds your mouth and kisses you deeply. You pull faintly back and look into his blue eyes.

Ransom smiles at you. He knows what you’re conveying without even having to say a word. “I love you too.”

Seconds later, Oliver runs and wraps his arms around you and Ransom. “Fun! Happy momma!” You in return wrap an arm around Oli and Ransom. “Yes, it was fun!” You laugh. “Ready to go ice skating?”

Oli pulls back and nods, “YES!”

Boston Common Frog Pond is a popular place to ice skate during the winter season. People are skating around the pond, laughing and smiling, talking with their friends and family members. They’re enjoying the warm sun beating down on them on this warm yet still chilly day. You, Ransom, and Oliver are sitting under the pavilion, readying yourselves to venture out onto the ice.

“You fell, Daddy?” Oliver inquires as you lace up his ice skates.

Ransom smiles, “Yes. The first time your momma brought me here, I fell on my ass.”

“Ransom!” you hiss as Oliver giggles.

“She laughed her butt off at me.” Ransom continues. “Skated circles around me.” Ransom looks at you and smiles. “I was flippin’ mad at her but soon enough all was forgiven.”

Your body warms at the memory of the first time you brought Ransom here. He was not going to put on ice skates and have people make a mockery of him because a ‘grown man doesn’t ice skate’ but you had told him it would be fine, and you’d hold his hand. Then within minutes of skating, Ransom fell and became a foul mouth Grinch. He despised it, then when you got him back to the house you soothed your Grinch with your hands and mouth, and a nice home cooked meal. Ransom had told you he never wanted to ice skate again but, of course, you had enticed him to the pond plenty of times and he was becoming a good skater. And now, with Oli, Ransom was eager to share the experience with his son.

“Momma! Daddy! Stop with googly eyes! Eeeewww!” Oli exclaims as he moves his eyes between you and Ransom. The both of you lost in the memories of your earlier Christmas seasons spent together.

Ransom cockily grins as you smile widely. “One day,” Ransom begins, “you’ll be in love like momma and me. It won’t be ‘ew’ then.”

Oli makes a disgusting face. “I’mma nota old yet.” He then smiles. “But I, Oli, love momma and daddy!”

You and Ransom laugh. Ransom then hangs his head, “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

“NO!” you and Oli answer in unison as both you and your son giggle together.

Ransom sighs heavily and stands, “We ready to hit the ice?”

Oli’s bright smile warms Ransom’s heart as his son looks at him. “Yes! And I wanna see you fall daddy!

“Not sure if that’ll happen but if it does, you may laugh all you want.” Ransom remarks as he takes Oli’s hand and helps him stand. Oliver’s legs are wobbly as his tiny hands clutch onto Ransom. “I got you, buddy.”

Oli giggles then looks at you, “Come on momma! Let’s go! Let’s go!”

You stand in your skates and walk over to the opening to wander out onto the ice. You reach out your hand and Oli takes it once he’s by your side. “Are my two boys ready?”

“Yes, momma!” Oli replies, eager to hit the ice.

“Come on,” you say as you step onto the frozen water. Oli’s grip tightens on your hand. He pushes one foot out in front of the other a few times. “Good! Keep tryin’!” You then look at Ransom. “Don’t be shy, Mister Drysdale. We’ll both cheer you on!’

Ransom rolls his eyes as he steps out onto the ice. His own legs wobbly, trying to remember how to ice skate. It had been a while since you and he had come down here to enjoy ice skating. “We haven’t been here since, what? Before Oliver was born?”

“Correct.” you answer as you continue to help Oli, showing him how to slowly skate along the frozen pond. Giving Oli small words of encouragement and praise. You glance back at Ransom, “Doing okay back there?”

“Yes…,” Ransom drawls out.

You snicker as you skate with Oli slowly around the pond. The two of you pass Ransom a couple of times who has barely made it around only one time. After a couple of skates around Oli is tired on his tiny legs and you pick him up, skating with him on your hip.

“Fun! Go fast momma, go fast!” Oli claps his mittened hands together.

“I can’t go that fast Oli. Gotta keep an eye on your poor dad.” you laugh.

You and Oli near Ransom again, who’s struggling to keep his balance as he skates. “You’re doing great rockstar,” you praise as you skate up behind him.

“Great job daddy!” Oli exclaims as he claps his hands.

Ransom breathes heavily, “Remind me why am I doing this?”

You smile, “Because you love me, and your son.” You grab his hand, “I can lead you back to the pavilion.”

Ransom squeezes your hand, “I’m not ready to give up.”

Oli’s head is buried in the crook of your neck, you know he’s tired and just by looking at your husband, you know he’s ready to call it a day too. You smile, “Ransom, it’s okay. My boys are exhausted. Besides, they promised me a few things for when we get back home.”

Ransom chuckles as he shakily skates towards you and grabs your waist with both of his hands. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

You smile and cup his cheek, “There will be plenty of times for you to master the art of ice skating.” You tilt your head and rub your cheek against Oli’s head then rub your belly. “Plenty of times, Mister Drysdale.”

Ransom pulls you to him and kisses you. He pulls faintly back and smiles. “I love spending time with my family. And it’s the most wonderful time of the year too.”

“It is, and we’re not going anywhere. You’re stuck with the three of us. Forever.”

“I wouldn't have it any other way sweetheart.”

#eight days of christmas #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #christmas series #mini series #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom drysdale fanfic #ransom drysdale fanfiction

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

A Weary Winter Night

A Connor Kenway x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 2.1K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst, Death

Author’s Note: DAY 10 PEOPLE. DAY 10 OF THE CHRISTMAS FICS. LET’S GOOOOOOO! ENJOY! -Thorne

“How many inches do you reckon it snowed, Ratonhnhaké:ton?”

He didn’t look over his shoulder as he unwound the trap from the fox’s neck starting to skin it. “Possibly a foot and a half.” He eyed her as she squatted beside him. “Maybe more.”

She watched the steam rise from the fox’s internal organs. “So, I’ve never actually asked, but can you even eat…fox?” Her face pinched with displeasure.

Connor chuckled as he worked. “You can, but the meat is very tough.” His amber eyes drifted to hers. “Would you like to try it, (Y/N)?”

She pulled a face and shook her head. “No thanks. I’ll stick to animals that don’t make me cry when I think about eating them.”

He hummed and stood to his feet. “Is that why you do not eat rabbit?”

“They’re cute!” (Y/N) protested. “And fluffy and cuddly! How can you eat them?!”

“Because they are food?” he said in confusion and she rolled her eyes.

“Oh my god.” She complained. “I can’t believe you’d eat such an adorable animal.”

Connor promptly ignored her further complaints as they ventured deeper into the forest, out to a pond. He bent down and pulled out his tomahawk, cracking a small hole in the ice so he could wash his hands clean of the blood. A barely audible hiss passed his lips at the frigid temperature, and he was quick to finish before looking up at her.

(Y/N) was staring off into the distance, eyes directed at the moon rising in the distance. Something was on her mind, he could tell.

“Otsi’tsa?” She glanced down and smiled. “Are you well?”

She nodded. “Yeah, just thinking about how long it’d take to get back or if we should play it safe and find somewhere to hunker down for the night.”

He rose and looked behind them. “We are at least five miles from the Homestead.” They met each other’s gazes and he nodded. “We should find shelter.”

(Y/N) tipped her head back to the trail. “I saw a cave about a hundred feet off the pathway earlier. Marked it with the ribbon around one of the gray birches.” Her eyes shifted back to the lowering sun. “If we hurry, we can find it before nightfall.”

Connor nodded. “Then let us away.” He turned, but paused, holding out his hand to her.

She quirked an eyebrow and he felt his cheeks warm. “I do not wish for you to fall.”

“Suuuuure,” she ribbed, grinning when his cheeks flushed an even darker shade of crimson, and he pulled his hood lower on his head.

***

It took about an hour, but that was all the day needed to shift into night, casting a dark indigo hue across the sky. (Y/N) breathed heavily, watching her breath come out in a cloud of wisps as she heaved herself through the boundless snow. The red ribbon appeared in her gaze and she squeezed Connor’s hand.

“There it is,” she nodded. “The cave should be just past here.”

She knew Connor was exhausted, just by his response, a quiet grunt, and she couldn’t help but murmur, “Sorry, I know you’re tired, Ratonhnhaké:ton. Just a little while longer.”

“I am fine, (Y/N). Do not worry.” He replied, letting go of her hand to gently untie the ribbon. His gaze drifted to her. “Besides, if you did not mention this, we would still be searching for shelter.”

She offered him a heartfelt smile and headed for the cave. As she neared it, she raised her flintlock and fired a single shot, no doubt scaring off anything in the cave and around it. She knew she certainly scared Connor, because he appeared in her vision with a frown on his face.

(Y/N) holstered the gun. “What?” His eyes narrowed. “I was just making sure there wasn’t anything inside.”

Connor didn’t respond, simply heading inside. After a moment, he called for her.

“It is safe. Come in, (Y/N).”

She lowered her hood and stepped inside, immediately whacking her head on the ceiling of the cave. “Fucker!” she yelped, bending over to grab her forehead. “That hurt!”

A snort sounded beside her, and she whipped her head up, this time careful to avoid the ceiling. “Stop laughing, Ratonhnhaké:ton! Shame on you!”

His lips pulled upwards and he softly cradled her face, pressing his lips to her forehead. “I am not laughing at you,” he murmured. “You mistake my sound of concern for laughter.”

(Y/N) glared at him, but she felt her lips rise as well. “Sounds like laughter to me, big-guy.”

She felt him smile against her skin as he pressed one last kiss before pulling away. “Good as new.”

She scoffed and prodded the bump growing. “Say that in the morning when I’ve got a bruise up there and a knot the size of a grenade.” He chuckled and she nodded to the back. “I’ll make a fire. You work on setting up a bedding.”

Spinning on her heel, he caught her arm before she left. “Let me do that. You should stay.”

(Y/N) leaned over and pecked his lips, but then grabbed him by the waist and spun him around. “Go. You’re exhausted. I can gather wood.”

Connor looked over his shoulder at her, and a firm nod of her head made him sigh and concede. “As you wish, (Y/N).”

She huffed a laugh at the way his shoulders seemed to droop but was relieved when he sat down and started unwinding his pack. Turning back around, she headed for the entrance of the cave and out into the night.

***

She searched for a good forty minutes, having to dig deep and climb higher for dry branches, but she managed to gather an armful that would at least last them a full three or four hours.

Her feet and back ached with a rage as she made her way back to the cave and all she could think about was diving into her bedroll and sleeping for as long as her body would allow.

Following her trailed footsteps back, she was about fifty yards from the cave when she crossed the path of a cougar. Shock filled her and before she could stop herself, the firewood fell to her feet, signaling the beast to look at her, and hiss menacingly.

(Y/N) stared at the canines and silently cursed herself for not reloading her flintlock when she had the chance earlier. She carefully reached for the hatchet at her side—something told her she was going to need it. The mountain lion seemed to know it as well because it screamed fiercely at her, almost making her step back in fear, but Connor’s teachings echoed in her mind: stand your ground.

Her fingers tightened around the grip and she twirled the hatchet in her hand, and sidestepped, the cougar following in a similar fashion. They circled one another and if the situation hadn’t been so dire, she would’ve made a joke about what a deadly dance it was becoming between them.

She barely had moments to react before the cat sprang, and she dove just in time to avoid the swipe of its heavy paw. (Y/N) reacted as it hit the ground, kicking out her leg as hard as she could. Her boot connected with the cougar’s side, sending it sprawling over, but that anecdote that all cat’s land on their feet was proven true, because it jumped back up and came at her—and this time, she didn’t have room to move out of the way.

It jumped and she raised her arm, letting out a scream of pain when the mountain lion sunk its teeth into her gloved wrist, clawed paws swiping at her. The weight was too much for her to bear and her knees went out underneath her, the hatchet falling from her grip.

(Y/N) yelled as the cougar’s mouth clamped tighter around her wrist, and the bones felt like they were going to snap. She curled her free hand into a fist and swung as brutally as she could manage, hitting the mountain lion in the face. It didn’t let her go, but she kept swinging, and connecting with its face until it did. It finally let go and hissed, but it was all the time she needed to yank her arm back and shove with all her might.

The cat leaped away, and she rolled over, scrambling for the hatchet. Her fingers curled around it but the scream coming her way told her she was out of time. (Y/N) shut her eyes and prayed for a miracle.

A gunshot sounded from behind her and a pitiful groan followed by a loud thump made her eyes snap open. She caught sight of the cougar laying in a blooming crimson puddle and she looked over her shoulder, seeing Connor standing there, the flintlock still smoking in his hand.

She couldn’t contain the sob that left her. “Ratonhnhaké:ton!” she cried, and he holstered the gun, sprinting to her.

He skidded to a halt and knelt down. “Where are you hurt?” he asked, and she raised her arm.

“Everywhere.” She whispered. “But this…is the worst of it.” (Y/N) yelped when he took hold of it.

“Sorry.” He murmured and she shook her head.

“Don’t—ow—don’t worry.” She nodded at it. “How bad?”

Connor started to unclip the leather gauntlet. When he had her glove off, he frowned. “He broke the skin, but I do not think he broke any bones.”

(Y/N) scoffed, but it dissolved into a hiss. “Shit, it feels like he did.” She pulled her arm back and cradled it to her chest, staggering to her feet, Connor fretting the entire time.

She shook her head and nodded to the pile of wood sprawled out a few feet away. “C’mon, gather the firewood so we can start one in the cave.”

“I need to tend to your wound, (Y/N).” he entreated, but she was firm.

“And in order to do that, you need light.” She bent over and grabbed a stick but dropped it and reached for her arm. “Fucker.” She cursed, blood smearing across her arm.

“Go to the cave. I will collect the wood.” Connor decided, and not having the energy to argue, she nodded, trudging back to the cave.

***

It took him a few minutes to get the fire good and going, but once he did, he made her sit beside it, cleaning the wound in silence. He smeared a rather foul-smelling mixture along her wound before sealing it with a clean linen wrap. Though it was finished, he didn’t remove his hands, he just kept staring at it.

(Y/N) watched the fire dance along his face, casting shadows on his features and she leaned close, pressing her forehead to his. “It wasn’t your fault,” she whispered.

Connor didn’t speak for a moment. “…I should have gone out to collect the wood.”

“We couldn’t have known that a cougar would be out tonight.”

He shook his head. “I should have seen the signs.” His face pinched, and such a self-loathing tone came out of him. “I should have seen the markings along the trees as we came. You got hurt because of my ignorance.”

(Y/N) winced as she pulled her arm back and cradled his face. “Look at me.” He didn’t and she ran her thumb under his eye. “Ratonhnhaké:ton, look me in the eyes.”

Finally, his amber eyes met hers and she said, “You were tired.” He opened his mouth to respond, but her free hand slipped, covering it. “If you had gone out there, that cougar might’ve killed you before I could’ve gotten there.”

Connor’s eyes went wide, and she felt tears gather in hers; she swallowed the lump in her throat, breathing, “Don’t you know how devastated I would’ve been if I couldn’t’ve gotten to you as fast as you did me?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed and through her own tears, she saw his eyes fill with them. Connor lowered his head and (Y/N) curled her arms around his neck, careful of her injured one.

“I am sorry,” he lamented, and she shook her head, brushing a hand through his dark hair.

“Don’t be. We’re both here. Both safe now.” She said, pulling away to look at him once more. She wiped his cheeks, then he did the same to her, ever so gentle as if she were made of the most precious gemstones.

Connor leaned towards her, resting his forehead to hers. “Konnorónhkwa.”

(Y/N) breathed a sigh of relief, smiling softly. “I love you too.”

#connor kenway x reader #connor kenway x reader imagine #connor kenway x reader imagines #connor kenway imagine #connor kenway imagines #connor kenway #ac3 #ac3 imagine #ac3 imagines #assassins creed 3 #assassins creed 3 imagines #assassins creed 3 imagine #ac imagines #ac imagine #assassins creed imagine #assassins creed imagines #Ratonhnhaké:ton

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 4 years

Text

Blizzard! Broken Thermostat! Only One Bed!

A winter Good Omens story

[A/N: I’ve had this one under my hat for a few weeks, waiting for Snowed-In season to arrive. Well, it turned cold the last few days, it might snow early next week, and my furnace won’t light so you get it now. Enjoy!]

“I don’t think you fully appreciate how lucky we are,” Crowley growled, sauntering down the hallway. The hotel key – a physical key, the building was a big, drafty Victorian manor – dangling from one hand, the other hand shoved as far as he could get it into the pocket of his jeans. “This blizzard came out of nowhere.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale paused to look out the window, watching white flakes drift down into the well-lit parking lot. “Any snowfall the first week of November is quite unexpected, even this far north.”

“Not a snowfall, Angel. A blizzard. I wouldn’t have stopped if these weren’t dangerous driving conditions.”

“Oh, absolutely.” Aziraphale waved one hand in the direction of the roads outside. “Why if it continues to, ah, blizzard at this rate, we could be looking at three, possibly even four inches by morning. Far more dangerous than driving the Bentley through a wall of fire, I’m sure.”

“Perhaps not that dangerous,” Crowley conceded. “But the Bentley’s been through enough this year. I won’t take any chances. We stay the night here, and if the roads are cleared in the morning –” Aziraphale’s throat clearing sounded suspiciously like a laugh – “fine, when the roads are cleared, we can drive the rest of the way back to London.”

“When you put it like that,” Aziraphale turned away from the window, quickly catching up to Crowley, “we were incredibly lucky to find a fine luxury hotel only one minute up the road.”

“And with one room left,” Crowley smirked as they arrived at the door marked 404.

“Sold out on a Thursday, no less.” Even behind dark lenses, Crowley couldn’t even attempt to meet the angel’s eyes. “Many things about this situation are immensely improbable.”

“Yes. Well.” Crowley bent over the lock, hiding his suddenly warm face. “As I said. Lucky.” The door unlatched and he quickly stepped through into the dark room. “And would you look at that – oh.” He fumbled at the wall until he found the light switch. “Would you look at that!”

“I can’t, dear, you’re blocking the door.”

Crowley shuffled to the side, trying to keep up the momentum. “There’s – look – there’s only one bed!”

“Mmm.” Aziraphale walked past, unconcerned, to where two plush chairs flanked a small table. Behind them enormous bay windows extended across the entire wall. “Oh, the view is quite lovely. There’s a duck pond! Pity about the ice.”

“Er, oh, is there?” Crowley crossed the room to take in the scenery, keeping the table between them. A line of lampposts across the grounds lit a brick path that circled the pond, nestled among gentle hills. The snow and mist made little halos around each light. Rectangular shadows hinted at hedges – the gardens were probably impressive in the spring.

“This room comes with breakfast, correct? Did you see a menu? I expect they do room service; I would much prefer to eat here than in the dining room we passed.”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley interjected, hoping to get the conversation back on track. “I think you’re ignoring a bigger question.”

“Hmm?” The angel turned away, crossing to study the widescreen TV in the corner with mild distaste.

“The bed, Angel.” Crowley pointed at the room’s central item. King-sized mattress, mounds of fluffy pillows, thick duvet folded back enough to show Egyptian cotton sheets with obscenely high thread counts. “There’s, well, one bed.”

“Yes, I can count.” Aziraphale gave a flat, piercing look that made Crowley squirm where he stood. “I would think that since only one of us sleeps, that is in fact the optimal number of beds.”

“Ah.” Golden eyes hidden by black lenses glanced around the room. “So, you’re just planning…”

“To sit here, enjoy the view, and read a book.” Aziraphale produced one from the pocket of his jacket. “I always carry something to entertain myself in emergencies.”

In a long quiet moment, they both continued to inspect the room. Aziraphale gave a happy hum when he found the kettle and a selection of black and herbal teas. Crowley, meanwhile, was busy with a tamper-proof electronic box on the wall.

“Oh, no!” He finally announced with all the drama picked up from centuries of theatergoing. “The thermostat! It’s broken!”

“Oh, dear.” Aziraphale walked over to look. “Well, I’m sure I can fix it.” He raised his right hand to snap his fingers.

“What? No!” Crowley pushed the hand back down, then realized what he was doing and shoved his own back in his pocket. “You shouldn’t fix it, because, er, the, ah,” he waved his free hand helplessly, wishing an excuse, a word, even a coherent sound, would emerge. Aziraphale, the bastard, just watched him with impassive blue eyes. “The humans might notice. If you fix it wrong.”

The angel waited, as if expecting more. “Well. Can’t have that, I suppose. Should we call down and see if it can be fixed?”

“No. It’s…late. And not that cold. It’s only stuck at, er, 13 degrees. We’ll be fine. Just, you know, chilly.”

“You know, Crowley, I have a wonderful idea.” He finally met Aziraphale’s gaze, and the angel broke into a brilliant smile. “What do you say to some tea? They have provided quite the selection. Chamomile. Rose hip. Orange blossom. Do you have a preference?”

Crowley shrugged, giving letting out a contemplative “hmm,” that turned into an exasperated groan as Aziraphale bustled off to fill the kettle in the bathroom.

“Oh, my dear, the bathtub is simply enormous. Perhaps I should take a soak while you sleep, it would be most refreshing.”

Crowley slammed the back of his head against the wall twice. “That sounds…nice?” He stood up straight and crossed his arms as the angel returned. “You know. Tea isn’t going to help me much. Since I’ll be sleeping. And unable to drink.”

“There are extra blankets in the closet. You know how to put them on the bed, don’t you?”

“Uuunh.” Crowley turned to the closet, bracing both hands on the closed door. There was one thing he hadn’t tried yet, but he didn’t like to use it. “Aziraphale. You know. I’m a snake. Snakes are cold-blooded. If I’m not warm enough when I sleep…I could die.” Every word of it was technically true.

“Crowley. Look at me.” The voice was colder than the air outside. The demon turned to find blue eyes glaring at him without amusement. “This has gone far enough. You will not die from being chilly. I know perfectly well you are not cold-blooded. And you said not two minutes ago this temperature is only a little uncomfortable for you.” Hands clasped behind his back, he took a step closer. “Now. Are you going to keep playing around or are you going to say what’s on your mind?”

“Ngk.” Crowley shuffled his feet, glancing at every inch of space in the room except exactly where Aziraphale stood. “Angel. Aziraphale. Could you…” Removing the glasses, he tried to meet his angel’s eyes. “Would you share the bed with me? Just to keep me company. Til I fall asleep.” His voice got faster and softer as he talked. “Cause I like it. When you’re close to me.”

“My dear, darling Crowley.” Aziraphale walked the last few steps to close the distance between them, placing one hand on the demon’s chin, pressing warm lips to his cheek. “Of course. All you ever had to do was ask.”

The bed really was extremely comfortable. Aziraphale leaned back against the headboard, propped up by several of the softest pillows he had ever felt, sighing happily.

Crowley had ignored the pillows entirely, choosing to rest his head against the angel’s heart, body pressed close, legs in a tangle under the duvet. Aziraphale could hardly see how such an angle could be comfortable but Crowley was fast asleep, a soft smile released across his face that would never have been allowed were he awake.

It was only then, left hand slowly combing through red hair, that Aziraphale realized the thermostat was still broken. He could fix it with a snap of his fingers but, well, they were all entwined with Crowley’s across his stomach, and what if moving like that woke him? That would be too great a tragedy.

Outside the window, wasn’t the snow falling just a little thicker? Could be a blizzard after all.

He shifted his arm gently, pulling Crowley closer, feeling the heat of him pressed into the curve of his side. Watching the smile stretch a little farther across that narrow face.

Yes, he should stay a bit longer. After all, they wouldn’t want to get cold.

[This story isn’t on my AO3 page, but you can find my other Good Omens fics there! Please reblog if you enjoyed!]

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aegon-targaryen · 4 years

Text

After

This is my Noragami secret santa gift to @floweryfandomnerd! Happy Holidays, and I really hope you like it! Read the full thing under the cut.

Hiyori watched the snow fall.

Her body was inside, tucked snugly under the warm kotatsu blanket. She sat with her spirit cord draped over the edge of the porch. The cold barely touched her in this form. She was content to listen to the soft pattering of flakes as they settled over the garden, dusting the bamboo leaves and settling on the frozen surface of the pond.

It was quiet inside the house too, but that was the grim silence that had settled over Hiyori’s family since her grandmother had died. She preferred to sit here in the stillness and think of a different snowfall, over a year ago, when she had first seen that little spirit huddled behind a vending machine—just a tiny spot of light in the winter darkness until Yato gave him a name. And now…now…

Where are you? she begged the grey sky. Where are you?

Of course there was no answer. Now she was thinking of another day in the snow: Kazuma’s green eyes burning bright into hers, every line of his body angled towards her in warning: Gods are incapable of loving humans. This is my curse to you.

But it wasn’t a curse. Kazuma had been wrong. Meeting them, knowing them, loving them—it was never anything but a gift. Even if Hiyori never saw them again.

She took a breath, and under the crisp bite of winter, she smelled something else. Sweet. Achingly familiar. Faint, but growing stronger. Suddenly she was sitting up straight, every part of her alive and electric with foolish hope.

You’re dreaming, she told herself. You miss him so much that even the wind knows it.

But no. Hiyori would know the scent of her god anywhere. She waited for a few helpless moments, her breath coming in frantic clouds, and then she whispered, “Yato.”

It was his real name, the one he had chosen, not the one forced upon him. And as always, when she called for him, he was there.

His tracksuit was dark and bloodstained against the pale garden. He cradled a pair of swords tenderly between his hands. Snowflakes settled into his dark hair. Hiyori was on her feet. Every step seemed to take an hour. She managed to lift her gaze—his eyes were fever-bright in his bruised face, and he watched her approach with a swirling maelstrom of feeling.

And then she stopped a few feet away. There was no sound between them but the drifting snow. She was almost afraid to speak, as if he was an illusion that would shatter at the sound of her voice. His smell. She wanted to breathe it in for the rest of her life.

He pressed a hand to his bloody side, never looking away from her.

“Welcome home, Yato,” Hiyori said softly.

He tumbled into her arms.

With three doctors in the house, it was no real challenge to get Yato’s wound cleaned and stitched and bandaged. The hard part was explaining it to her parents and keeping them from sending him straight to a hospital. Masaomi, with his half-remembered knowledge of Yato, helped win them over. In the end, it didn’t matter; their parents forgot Yato’s presence with a speed that frightened Hiyori.

He drifted in and out of consciousness. After her family had left the room, he reached for the dual swords and croaked out, “Sekki.” And then Yukine was bursting forth in a shower of light and throwing his arms around Hiyori, sobbing and laughing and begging her forgiveness, and she could only cling tight and thank whichever gods had brought them back to her.

“Tell me it’s over,” she pleaded when they had both caught their breath.

“I think,” Yukine said unsteadily, looking down at the sleeping Yato, “I think it really is.”

“And the sorcerer?” Hiyori wondered. She couldn’t bring herself to call him Yato’s father.

“Gone,” Yukine answered with a shudder. There was a story there, but for now, Hiyori just took Yato’s limp hand and drew Yukine back to her. Stories would come later. Now was the time to heal.

Life marched on insistently. Yato slept for days, the way only someone weighed down by years of exhaustion can sleep. Yukine looked after him while Hiyori went to school. Her family was none the wiser. Even Masaomi forgot after the first couple of days.

So they waited patiently for Yato to wake up. They ate the food Hiyori smuggled in from the kitchen. They worked on her homework together. They sat nestled against the side of the bed where Yato slept and read manga or watched movies. They talked—sometimes of everything that transpired since they last saw each other, and sometimes of the unpainful routine happenings of Hiyori’s daily life. Yukine had scars running along his hands and underneath his sleeves now. When Hiyori asked about them, his only reply was, “Yato saved me.”

Finally came the day when Yato pushed the blankets away and sat up to survey the room bewilderedly. He looked at Yukine first, and his voice cracked with disuse when he said, “You okay?”

Yukine swallowed and answered thickly, “Y-yeah.”

Yato nodded, and then his gaze shifted. Hiyori—who knelt breathlessly beside the bed—stared back into his brilliant blue eyes. Her heart thundered painfully with the words she didn’t know how to say: I thought I’d lost you and I’m so glad you’re safe and I love you. Yato’s expression was just as complicated.

His fingers stretched out to brush against her face. She trembled at the feeling. It was never him who reached for her. He was always so afraid that the blood on his hands would ruin her as it had nearly ruined him. But something had changed in his face since that night when he had shoved the little shrine into her hands and left to face his death. There was a look of…relief. Maybe even peace.

“You didn’t forget,” Yato said.

Tears flooded Hiyori’s eyes. She reached up to fold his hand between her palms. “I almost…you could have…”

“I know,” he mumbled guiltily. “I know.”

The fear and the anger that had followed her doggedly since he left began to melt away. He was here and breathing and safe, and so was Yukine. She didn’t need anything else.

Hiyori leaned up to gather Yato into her arms. The smell of him filled her lungs, and when Yukine wedged himself beside her and embraced them both, the three of them fit together like pieces in a puzzle.

Yato slid out into the garden after the others fell asleep. The sky was clear and sparkling with a quilt of stars. Hiyori had told him about what had happened the night her grandmother died. As far as Yato knew, Nora hadn’t been seen since. Snow crunched under his boots as he approached the frozen pond.

He stood there for a long moment, wondering if he was being foolish, if he should go back inside to the warmth and to Yukine and Hiyori. Nora had been born and raised into cruelty just like Yato, but he had turned away from it, and she had not. Even so—Yukine had seen the childish good remaining in her, and Hiyori had seen the pain. If Yato still deserved to be here, if he deserved what his friends had given him, perhaps she did too.

The ice splintered with a crack that pierced straight through his heart. A pale form rose out of the water. She looked very small, and very young, almost like the child he had grown up alongside. A shock went through him when he saw that the dozens of names that used to cover nearly every inch of her were wiped clean from her skin.

“Yaboku,” she greeted very quietly.

“Yato,” he corrected.

“I’ve…been…asleep. Drifting. I don’t…where is Father?”

Yato felt his muscles tensing, his weight shifting to the balls of his feet: he was preparing to run, if that was what she forced him to do. He felt like he’d spent his whole life in flight. Today—with Hiyori and Yukine curled up together in the other room, safe and at peace and together at last—today was the day he began teaching himself to stand still.

“Father is gone.”

He felt nothing when he said it. No triumph or guilt or grief. Nothing at all. Nor did any emotion cross Nora’s face, even though Yato was certain that this news would have broken her apart not so long ago.

Good, he thought. Their father had left enough marks on them in life. At least his death couldn’t hurt them.

Nora lowered her head. “He cast me away.”

“Yeah. Yukine told me.”

“So did you.”

Her words hung suspended in the cold air. There were centuries of pain lying between the two of them. She had forced him to kill Sakura unwittingly. She had hurt Yukine and Ebisu and countless others. But Yato, too, had made more mistakes than he could count.

“I don’t blame you,” she continued. “Everyone else did too. I was always unwanted. I just fooled myself into thinking you and Father were different.”

“Father wanted whatever he could use,” Yato said flatly. “I cared. And that hasn’t changed, even after…after everything.”

She turned towards him, her face barely visible in the night. “Are you saying…?”

He thought of the shine Hiyori had built. He thought of Yukine saying, you will never kill again. “Father is gone. We have a chance. We have a chance to finally be good. But this time…tell me your name.”

“My name?” she repeated, looking down at the water pooled around her. “But I’m…I’m no one.”

“That’s what Father wanted you to think,” Yato said. “But we’re not what he made us to be.”

He felt the light flare into his hands, felt the words of the naming ritual resting on his tongue by sheer instinct, the same way they had all those years ago when the two of them were only children trying to please their father.

“You have a true name. We all do. Even after all Father did, after all the masters you’ve had, some of you is still the girl who used to bandage up my wounds and tell me that tomorrow would be better. Some of you is still my sister. I won’t tell you who you are. That’s what he did to us all our lives. So tell me what you choose.”

It took her a long time to answer. She looked down at her arms, pale and bare of the writing that had directed the course of her entire life. Then she tipped her face up to the stars, and it almost looked like her lips curved into a smile.

She murmured, “Hiiro.”

#i hope this is what you wanted #i haven't written fic in a hot minute and i don't know how it got to be this long fkjgfjgf #floweryfandomnerd #noragamisecretsanta2019 #noragami #noragami fanfiction #fanfiction #yatori #my writing #yato #hiyori #yukine #hiiro #nora

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supermoonthing · 4 years

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Blue

Full-moon nights are always tough, especially the winter ones. When the moon shines over the landscape, the snow reflects its light in millions of millions of little particles, and sends the beams to all directions, on buildings and trees and cars. But it always feels like they all at once find their way to my window. The twinkles flicker on my wall like stars in the night sky, the light holding my tired eyes open. I hold my teddy close to comfort me.

And that’s why I hate them. I hate the real stars, too, and the moon, because it’s their fault, that I can’t sleep. I turn over, again and again but no position could possibly help me escape the shaky shimmers behind my eyelids. I press them together, so hard that my face is all wrinkled. My face muscles tingle from the strain, even the last ones at the back of my head work to let nothing but darkness through. I roll my eyes up as far as I can so no light can get to them.

My ears fill with soft tinkle. The sound takes me by surprise. It is silent, quite distant, but seems to be coming from more than one place. It’s almost as if it was permeating everything around me. I open my eyes, sit up and look around. My bedroom is still, no sign of anything that could give out such sound. Is the moon making it? It’s sure trying to annoy me even more. My parents went to sleep long time ago, it couldn’t be them, and it looks like the source isn’t in my room either. The only disturbing thing here is the abundance of light. Although… Has it gotten even brighter? I frown in frustration. I slide off my bed and walk over to the window.

‘There you are,’ I hiss at the large glowing ball occupying the sky. ‘It’s all your fault!’ shout I.

And I wait and wait, but the moon doesn’t answer. It doesn’t even flinch under my stare. Not a bit of shame. ‘You’re a mean one,’ I say finally, ‘and you don’t deserve all the shine.’

I turn my body away to go back to bed, but then I catch another one – another moon. This one’s not as bright. I look curiously at the surface of our garden pond, then at the sky and its biggest inhabitant, and then again at his tremulous, weaker twin. ‘Hm.’ The tinkling is now almost gone. The moon has stopped making it – I scared him. ‘I didn’t know I was that threatening,’ I whisper to myself.

‘Will you help me get my star back, please?’ a high-pitched voice says behind me.

I jump with a squeak and turn quickly around. A pair of blue eyes are gawping at me, just few centimeters from mine. I slowly pull away without breaking the eye-contact. ‘Will you help me get my star back, please?’ the figure repeats. It’s a girl, I’m sure. She looks like a girl, although a peculiar one. She’s a few bits smaller than me, but no less than four feet. Her hair is long, very long. And blue, like the rest of her. She has the biggest eyes I have ever seen.

‘You have the biggest eyes I’ve ever seen,’ I blurt. She blinks and tilts her head in confusion. I freeze for a second, but then I straighten my back and look down on her. ‘Who are you? And what are you doing in my room?’

She looks around - ‘Is this your room? My star almost hit it.’ – then back at me: ‘You’re quite lucky, sir.’

I scowl on her. ‘Lucky? I can’t sleep because of all the light! And now you are here! How did you get to my room without me noticing?’

She throws up her arms. ‘I’m trying to get my star back!’

‘Your star?’

‘Yes! I dropped it, you see. I’m very clumsy with my star, although I’ve never dropped it before.’

Silence settles between us as we look at each other. Her skin is very pale, almost white. She has all human features, but I don’t think she is. She’s too blue for a human. ‘Who are you? You’re so blue. I didn’t even know there were so many blues in the world!’

She looks down on her sky-colored hands. ‘I… I am a light-bringer. I hold my star up in the sky, so it shines on you people.’

I feel my anger grow in me. ‘Well, we don’t appreciate it! It’s annoying and I want to sleep!’

‘But will you help me?’

I am impatient. ‘Get your star back?’

She nods vigorously. ‘Yes! And then I’ll leave you to sleep.’ I squint at her suspiciously. ‘I swear! I know exactly where my star is!’

My eyebrows shoot up. ‘You do? Where?’

She hops to the window and points outside. ‘There!’ she exclaims with excitement. ‘Do you see it?’ I shake my head.

‘It’s just over there, in the water!’

‘Wait… Your star is in our pond?’ I realize that the second moon I spotted on the water’s surface was no moon. I turn to her in disbelief. ‘But it’s winter! The water is freezing! How do you want to get your star out?’

She gazes at me. ‘Well… Could you help me out?’

I open my mouth. Help her out? How?! By drowning in the icy water?

Her eyes are fixed on mine. ‘Please?’

I growl. ‘Fine! But you’ll go away right after we’re done, and,’ I stick up my finger like my mom does sometimes, ‘you’ll tell the moon to stop shining so bright. He can shine a little, though. But not too much.’

She cackles and grabs my hand. ‘Let’s go then!’ She pulls me, and so we run. But she is rather bouncing, as if she weighed no more than a little bird, hopping from one branch on another.

On we dash, on the corridor in front of my room, down the stairs and across the living room to the door leading to our garden. She twists the key and almost throws the door off the hinges. We rush out, and suddenly we are standing by the pond, on the water’s edge. It is not coated by ice – the temperature is not as low as I expected but it’s still very cold. Too cold for just pajamas and slippers. In no time my entire body is shaking. Nothing but her breathing and my clapping teeth can be heard. Chilly breeze blows over the snowdrifts.

My bizarre companion kneels and investigates the water. At the very bottom, twelve feet underwater, sits a bright object. It doesn’t look too big from here. Little waves on the surface smear its glow into playful glimmers. ‘Well,’ she starts, but doesn’t finish.

‘Uhm,’ say I. I don’t know what to do. She doesn’t seem cold at all, but I am urging every bit of me to not run back inside. ‘I don’t feel like swimming right now,’ I whisper.

Her shoulders drop. ‘Are you cold?’ I look at her angrily. ‘I didn’t realize you could be cold.’ She looks guilty. I know she is sorry, so I try to smile to ease the tension. ‘It’s best if we get this over with as fast as possible,’ I decide. ‘Do you know how to do that without me freezing to death?’

Her face lights up. ‘Oh, but the water isn’t cold at all. It’s lukewarm at the least.’ She sticks her arm in the water all the way up to her elbow and grins at me. ‘Try it,’ and so I do. I let out a surprised giggle. She’s right.

I jump up and look at her. ‘Alright. I’ll get your star out for you. But before I go in the water, get me a blanket from the living room – it’s on the sofa.’ As she disappears inside, I begin to take of my clothes until I’m only left with my underwear on. She comes back to me, the blanket in her arms. ‘Good,’ I tell her. I do four or five springs to warm myself up, even though I know it won’t help, not in this weather. ‘When I get out, you grab the star and tuck me in the blanket, okay?’ She nods. ‘If I get too cold, I can fall very, very ill, understand?’ Another nod.

No use delaying this.

I turn my face to the water and breathe in. One, two, three. The snow makes a crispy sound as I take the leap.

It’s like a punch when my face and the water meet, but it doesn’t break my focus. I am a good swimmer. It takes no more than few paces for me to get to the star. I can’t tell its shape – it’s too blinding to look straight at. I plant my feet in the muddy ground and wrap my arms around it. Its rough surface is warm. I want to spring up, but it’s too heavy. I pull and pull, but the star won’t move. This is not as easy as it seemed at first. I look around. The little pond is illuminated by the star well enough, but there’s nothing apart from few plants, nothing that could help me. I need to get the star out myself. I rub it all over to find a better way to grip it, but it looks like it’s almost perfectly round with few bumps and dents.

A large bubble escapes my mouth. I grow frustrated. If I can’t lift the damned rock, she won’t leave me alone! Why doesn’t she get one of her star friends to help her anyway? Why doesn’t she ask the moon? I kick the star as hard as I can with the water slowing down my foot. The star moves a bit. I kick again, and the star moves slightly more, but something appears to be holding it in place. I feel it with my palms, every inch of it. Something sharp cuts my fingers. A thorn hooks my thumb as I brush against a sprout that clungs to the star. I forget where I am and open my mouth in thrill. Gotcha! I grope and find more sprouts. I rip them all, ignoring the pain in my hands. One after another, until –

The star shoots up, taking me with it. We jump out with a loud ‘pop’ and the force throws me off on the ground next to the pond. I breathe in and out fast and deep, like I’m trying to devour all of world’s air.

She is here, covering me with the blanket. My body is trembling, my teeth chattering. I look up at her. ‘You did it,’ she laughs. ‘You saved my star!’ I am exhausted and cold. I can hardly feel my feet. The shiny sphere is floating on the pond’s surface. I wonder how it hasn’t woken up my parents yet.

She follows my gaze. ‘I shall go back soon. My star has been missing for too long.’

I finally speak: ‘And I need to go to bed.’

She smiles. She’s pretty when she smiles. ‘That’s right.’

I stand up to say goodbye. She walks over to the pond and captures her star. Then she comes back to me, holding the star under her left arm, placing her right palm on my cheek.

I flinch in surprise, but don’t move her hand away.

‘Thank you,’ she whispers.

We’re both smiling. The cold has gone away.

‘Don’t forget to tell the moon – ‘

‘Don’t worry.’

‘Okay.’ I’m so tired.

‘I’ll be watching over you.’

I decide to say it. ‘Come visit me sometime.’ She stares off into the distance for few seconds but when she returns to me, there’s a cheeky spark in her eyes. ‘I might.’

I let out a long sigh. ‘Great.’

‘Great,’ she repeats after me.

And with a dazzling flash of light, she’s gone.

#short story #fantasy #fiction #short fiction #creative #stars #kids stories #imagination #creative writing #childrens stories #writing #writers on tumblr #my writing #fantasy story

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quadraphonictypewriter · 4 years

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Rushing Whispers Part 11/?

Read from the beginning or Part 10

June 25 & 26, 1970 ((approx 2550 words))

Cameron and I had left the house early to spend the day in and around Aberdeen. As we were driving along the River Dee mid day, I noticed Duthie Park to our left and my mind drifted to the last time I was at Polmuir Road.

“Do you think Lily would be happy to see me?” I asked.

“I don’t see why she wouldn’t be,” Cameron answered. “Did you want to stop by? We still have time before the meeting.”

I thought for a moment and agreed. We took a little detour and within minutes were standing in front of her house. My hand hovered with hesitation in front of the door. I stole a glance at Cameron, and with a smile he knocked for me.

It took a minute for Lily to get to the door, but once she opened it I could see the surprise clear on her face.

“Hi, auntie,” was all I said.

“Emily! Come, dear!” she exclaimed, pulling me into a hug and bringing me inside the house. “You too,” she told Cameron, who obliged and stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

We followed Lily into the kitchen, where she put the kettle on and took three cups out of the cabinet.

“I didn’t expect to see you so soon,” she chuckled as she turned back to face us.

“I didn’t expect to be back so soon,” I answered, glancing at Cameron. “It’s just me, though. Liliane isn’t here,” I added.

Lily sat down across from us and I could see how happy she was to see me again, as I was to see her. “I know, dear. I received a call from her yesterday, long distance of course,” she quipped. “Though she didn’t tell me you would be on this side of the pond.”

“I asked Emily to return,” Cameron answered. “You know that I’m a musician, and I’ll be touring for a few months with the rest of the band. I asked Emily to accompany me and she agreed.”

Lily looked at me and winked almost imperceptibly. “Where will you be travelling to?” she asked, obviously curious.

“We will be doing most of the tour in Germany and France,” Cameron began. “Some other dates are planned for Holland, and some British dates as well.”

“Very exciting!” Lily said as she stood to pour the tea.

“It is,” I agreed, my smile wide. “Auntie, would you mind if I gave Liliane a quick call? I’m sure she’s up now, it must be around eight for her.”

“Go ahead, I don’t mind at all.”

With that, I got up from the table and went into the sitting room. I sunk into the armchair by the phone and dialed the operator before giving my sister’s number.

She answered on the fourth ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Lil,” I responded. “How are you?”

“Emily! I’m doing fine, how are you? The flight was okay? Cameron was there to pick you up?”

“I’m good too, and yes. Also, yes,” I added with a laugh. “We’re at Lily’s right now, I thought I’d give you a call and let you know everything’s fine.”

“I’m glad, thanks for calling. When do you leave to join the travelling musician’s club?” she asked me through a stifled giggle.

“Ten days or so. I’ll write you a letter not long afterwards, so expect that in a few weeks,” I informed her.

“Did you show him the photo of your painting?”

“I did. He loved it,” I told her.

“That’s great.” I could hear her smile. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks, sis. Well, our tea is ready and I don’t want to keep Lily waiting, I’ll let you go.”

“Wait, before you go. Thank Cameron for me, for keeping you safe. And remind him that if he doesn’t he will have me to answer to.”

I chuckled, even though I knew she was being serious. “I will.”

“Love you.”

“Same here. We’ll talk soon.”

I hung up and went back to the kitchen, my cup of tea set on the table and Cameron and Lily chatting pleasantly.

“Your sister is doing well?” Cameron asked as I sat beside him.

“Yes, she is. I’ll write her a letter soon, so in about three weeks she’ll be hounding the postman for a letter every day,” I laughed.

When it neared two-thirty, we said goodbye to Lily and made our way back to the house in Cairnie. The rest of the band, plus Geoff and the girls, were to arrive at three, but when we pulled up to the house we saw that some of them had already arrived.

Willie and Dale were standing outside the door, smoking cigarettes and talking. We got out of the car and greeted them; Willie looked his usual solemn self but Dale was happy to see me.

“It’s nice you’ve come back to our keyboardist!” he exclaimed after we exchanged a brief hug.

“Well, I didn’t leave by choice,” I said with a chuckle.

We all entered the house and Cameron left the front door unlocked for the others to enter when they arrived. Soon enough, the house was full and we were just waiting for Geoff. Sylvia and I were chatting when he walked in a few minutes later and immediately called the band to the meeting in the studio.

“What’s it like having lots of snow?” Sylvia asked. “I’ve never seen more than a few inches on the ground.”

“Try three feet of snow by New Years Day,” I quipped.

“Three feet?”

“I’ll give you one better,” I said enthusiastically. “Nine years ago, at the end of February there was an ice storm. An inch of freezing rain fell in two days. And the wind uprooted trees and everything.”

Sylvia said nothing, only a shocked look on her face. After a moment, she began asking questions again and I amused myself by answering them. I was just about to explain how Niagara Falls is actually three separate waterfalls when Lee walked into the room and asked me to join the meeting.

"I thought it was a band meeting," I noted quietly as we walked down the hall towards the studio.

"I'll let Geoff explain," Lee replied, opening the door. All the heads in the room turned towards us, Cameron smiling at me and Willie brooding. Everyone else looked mildly surprised, as if I had food on my face. Knowing I didn't, I made no move and waited to be asked by Geoff to sit.

I pulled up a chair beside Cameron and sat down.

"Emily," Geoff greeted me, "we have a bit of an issue with the album, and Cameron thought you could help us out."

I glanced at Cameron and he gave me a slight wink. I looked back to Geoff and spoke. "What's the issue?"

"The man who was to airbrush a photo of the band for the album cover, his mum's sick and he's backed out of the contract." Then, seeing my face change, he continued. "Now, I'm all for sympathy but he's got a contract with us that's now been nullified, and we're in need of someone to provide us with an album cover."

"And you want me to do it? I've never airbrushed before-"

"But Cameron has said you are quite a painter,” Geoff interjected. “Would you be willing to paint something?”

"Quick and dirty,” Willie added in a surprisingly interested tone. “We haven't got much time.”

I thought for a moment and realized that this might be the way to be accepted by the rest of the band, especially Willie and the manager, who didn't seem too happy with my presence. “I'll do it,” I said confidently. "But I'll need supplies, and some sort of idea to go on."

"Lee's got the sketches. He'll fill you in," Geoff said. "Meeting dismissed."

Everyone left the studio except Cameron, Lee, and myself. I'd remembered him being introduced as Leroy when we had first met, but bit my tongue.

"Cameron, are you sure about this?" I asked worriedly.

"Yes. Talk with Lee, figure out what you need and we'll get it for you. I'll be right back," he said before giving me a quick kiss and heading towards the living room.

Lee took Cameron’s spot beside me and handed me a sketchbook. "So, Emily, this is what I’ve got sketched out..”

After an hour or so of talking with Lee and making my own sketches, he left with Cameron to get the supplies I would need. Almost everyone had left; only Clyde and Sylvia stayed at the house to keep me company, which I appreciated.

“You know,” Clyde began as he stood, “there’s always been something with Cameron.” Clyde flipped the record and lowered the needle.

“What do you mean?” I asked, curious at his words.

“Something missing. He’s never been one to fool around for the sake of it, but no one’s ever stuck,” he noted. “He’s different with you, though.”

“He’s right,” Sylvia added. “He’s more-”

All talk of Cameron ceased as he walked in the door with Lee, hands full with shopping bags of art supplies and rigid canvases.

I stood and grabbed a bag from Lee, setting it down on the kitchen table and beginning to unpack it. Acrylic paints, multiple styles and textures of brushes, many sheets of thick paper…

It was evening, and everyone had left by now; only me and Cameron remained at the house. He had a test pressing of the album with him and was playing it for me in the sitting room, where I had repurposed the kitchen table and laid down a large sheet to catch any paint. All my supplies were ready and waiting for me, but first, I had to hear what I was painting.

“It’s a shame that no one in North America knows about you guys,” I told Cameron as the last song began to fade. “You’d kick some major ass.”

Cameron laughed. “The time will come. One day we’ll be known all over. And this album is the first step.”

I smiled at him. “I’m happy to be a part of it. Now, play it again.”

Cameron flipped the record back to the first side and set the needle down. I had sketched some ideas based on what Lee had shown me, but there was something missing from them.

“Is this album about someone?” I asked. “It seems almost like a plea, but for who, I don’t know.”

“You’ve got a keen ear,” Cameron noted. “It’s mainly about a man that Willie and I used to know, an old teacher of ours. He died in Korea. We were young and he had greatly impacted both of us,” he told me.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, love. It’s not your fault there was a war.”

“Still,” I commented, “it’s not fair to die in someone else’s war.”

“No, it’s not.” Cameron paused in thought and then looked back to me. “We wrote this album as a statement. People can come from very little and do very much with themselves.”

Cameron began to describe to me his teacher and the impact he made, and by midnight II had two completed canvases, and the last was half finished. Cameron was reading on the couch but dutifully kept the turntable going.

It was difficult to paint on a schedule and at the same time make something worthy of being the cover for an album they’d all worked so hard on. I had a few last touches to add when Cameron stood and came to stand behind me.

“It’s not finished, not yet,” I told him.

“It’s wonderful,” he answered. “You’ve painted all over your arms.”

“Always happens,” I explained. “This is the first time you’ve seen me paint, isn’t it?” I added a few small brushstrokes and set down the brush and palette I’d been holding. The third version of the cover art was finished.

“Yes, it is,” he said. “I love seeing you so passionate.”

“I haven’t been so happy to paint in a long time.”

“I’m glad I could help with that,” Cameron noted. “Now, let’s go to bed.”

We got out of bed in the early morning, again woken by the shrill sound of a telephone. Cameron answered it and came back to the bedroom.

“Don’t go downstairs in your panties,” he warned me. “Willie should almost be here.”

“For what?” I asked incredulously.

“To see your paintings,” he said as if it made sense.

“I’m not even sure they’re finished,” I moaned. “Why does he have to come right away?”

“Just be grateful he didn’t barge in here at three in the morning to ask if they were done,” Cameron said with a laugh.

“Why, is that like him?”

“Very like him.”

With that, I stood and quickly got dressed. Brushing my hair and teeth took less time than I thought, so after I signed the corner of the canvas I even had time for a quick toast before Lee and Willie arrived with too much gusto for so early in the morning.

“You two look dead,” Cameron noted.

I was glad I didn’t say it, because Willie shot him a stern look. Lee, on the other hand, looked apologetic. He came up to me and pulled me aside as Cameron and Willie discussed something on the other side of the room.

“So? How do they look?” he asked me anxiously.

“Cameron says they look great,” I told him. “But come see for yourself.”

We’d removed some art from the walls in the hallway to put the three canvases up to dry. I brought Lee there and he gasped.

“That’s amazing! I think Willie will like it too, even with that stick up his-”

“That stick up my arse?” Willie asked, startling both of us. Cameron was behind him, but slipped past to come stand beside me with an arm around my waist. Lee looked bashful, but Willie ignored him in favour of the canvases.

‘This isn’t the Louvre,’ I said to myself as he critiqued the first painting.

The second had a more dramatic feel to it, but it was the third painting that caught Willie’s attention. He turned to us and nodded. “This one.”

“That’s that, then,” Cameron said. “Give this to Geoff and tell him to get it to his man.”

Lee delicately took the painting in his hands and lifted it off the wall, walking behind Willie. He glanced back at me and winked, I smiled in return.

We saw them both to the door but once they’d left, I hugged Cameron tight. “That was nerve-racking.”

“Was it?” he chuckled. “I suppose Willie can be like that sometimes, but I’ve known him so long I barely notice it anymore.”

“Well, I respect your... whatever-it-is for him, but right now, I’m glad he’s gone,” I said with a chuckle.

Cameron laughed and hugged me closer to him. “I can understand that.”

We laughed for a moment until my gaze fell to the two rejected paintings. "What will we do with these?" I asked.

"We'll decorate with them."

Part 12

#wip rushing whispers #romancewritersanonymous #romance story #romance #original wip

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unholyhelbig · 4 years

Note

Ok, hear me out. Disney and Emisue, I really want to see Aladdin or 101 Dalmatians, or sleeping beauty. Literally anything Disney.

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Title: Life on a Leash

Ship: Emily Dickinson/ Sue Gilbert

Milo kept his teeth clenched playfully at the edge of Emily’s hat, not strong enough to break the fabric. Not even strong enough to fold the edges. He had pulled it from her head in one swift motion, drawing her attention away from the book with the yellowed pages and the lake that was teaming with swans, floating along leisurely.

She had her back flush against an oak tree, his leather leash clipped to his collar, but she didn’t have a hold on it. She had grown to trust the husky, no matter how many times he took off after a poor innocent squirrel or the neighbor’s cat.

Emily Dickinson had found him as a stray, left in a wet cardboard box that had Free Puppies drawn on the side. The rain had just begun to pick up and he huddled, small and blue-eyed, against a musty blanket soaked evenly through. She quickly scooped him up and took him to the vet to warm up. To make sure he would survive the night. Milo had, and Emily quickly agreed to take him home.

“Hey!” She grumbled, putting her hand on her head as if the ghost of the hat was still there. “Milo, that’s not funny. Give it back boy.”

He cocked his gray and white head at her, ear flopping to the side as her hat remained clenched in his jaw, the front part of his body pressed flush against the green grass. Another growl escaped his lips as Emily leaned further into the tree and shut her book, tucking it into the pocket of her jacket.

She narrowed her eyes and suddenly sprung forward. She could smell the moist dirt, nearly taste it as Milo sprung back at the motion, letting out a yip of pleasure. Emily’s attempt was fruitless, stomach close to the ground as her hand lay outstretched in an attempt to grasp the item.

He took a few more steps back, paws nearly hitting the small trail that looped around the park. Their park. The same patch of greenery and foliage that they had come to nearly every day. So had everyone else in the city- jogging the jagged path and feeding the ducks with grapes and birdseed. More importantly, it was a great place for Milo to get the exercise he needed. A place where everyone would take their pets.

“Come on,” She grumbled, pushing herself up as her palms dug into the wet ground.

Milo had walked across the path to a park bench- not an empty one, at that. She noticed the dog first- another husky, painted elegantly in black and shatteringly clear whites. She had her eyes trained on the pond; tail wrapped around her feet. The dog was well trained- not moving a muscle as Milo plopped the hat on the opposite end of the bench, barking. Teasing Emily to come get it.

Emily noticed the owner next, she was nearly impossible to miss. A leather leash was tied around the end of the bench as she enjoyed a book herself. She squinted to read the title, but couldn’t make it out in the afternoon sun. Her delicate features creased in worry at the plot, beautiful and cooling all at once. She was stunning, a hat protecting her own eyes from the blazing spring day. But even from here, little strands of honey hair spilling from the accessory, Emily’s stomach fluttered.

Milo sat down triumphantly, wagging his tail. “God, you sly dog.”

She stood on her own accord, silently working up the nerve to walk over to the small park bench, say something flirty, and retrieve her hat. A nice one that now as covered in doggy slobber. But the stranger with the book and well-behaved beast was gone, walking down the opposite end of the trail elegantly.

Milo let out a soft whimper and started to trot after them. Emily barely catching enough speed to grasp her hat and at her dog's long lead. “Come on you all renegade, we’re going home.”

He seemed to concede to that, letting out a huff of air as Emily fastened the hat back on her head. They walked normally for a few paces, and then Milo started to pull. He started to push his entire body against the strength of the lead, pulling Emily roughly behind him.

Milo caught up with the other dog, quickly running circles around both the animal and the owner. Emily struggled to keep her balance as she kept her hand wrapped tightly around the leash. She could smell jasmine and the aging pages of the book that was still nuzzled against the strangers' grasp.

She felt more than that then- a whole body pressed against hers and the tangle of holds pushing them together. She struggled to keep her balance, rushing out apologizes “Oh my god, I am so sorry- this is not at all like him!”

“My heavens,” The stranger spoke, light and heavy all at once as Emily’s back faced the lake. She could smell the aging water, hear the swans wading for a fresh spot in the sun. “Oh! Mia!”

They were starting to lose balance, and Emily’s heart pounded against the inside of her chest. She had grown up around ice and snow and the slick nature of winter. If there was anything she had learned, it was that falling backward is worse than falling forward. You could catch yourself, but not here, not all tangled up and facing the opposite direction.

The dog responded to the call of her owner and nipped frantically at the flannel tied around the girl's waist. Emily grasped herself, feeling the sudden engulfing power of pond water soak through every inch of her clothing. She drew in a sharp intake of air, the muddy bottom sliding under her fingertips.

“For fuck's sake!” She howled, “Milo!”

The stranger spoke too, voice edged “Well I have never!”

Emily tasted the muck in her mouth, struggling to stand in the shallow pool of water, Milo coated in a thick sheen of grime himself. He simply trotted along the side of the pond and shook himself clean. His broken lead in his mouth.

“I’m so sorry, here, let me help”

Emily scooped up the girl's hat from the water, turning it the opposite way as the water ran out of it, taking the moss and the weeds with it. The stranger snatched it back with force, pulling it over her head with a look of primal anger.

“I think you’ve done enough- oh, my phone.” She sighed heavily, dragging her hand across the base of her lip to quell the mud. “My book,” It floated sadly nearby, also being grabbed. The ink was running down the page like a half-hearted painting. Balloons filled with pigment and hit with darks with a force so heavy they split.

“here,” Emily patted the edge of her jacket, pulling out the soaked and soggy novel she was almost finished with. “Take mine.”

The beautiful stranger pulled her shoulders back and got a good look at the waterlogged literature. Her mascara was running against smooth cheeks. Emily looking like a drowned rat, her clothes heavy with pond scum. She started laughing.

“This is not funny,” The woman responded, but smiled broadly “We could have drowned.”

“It’s three feet of water,”

“Well, I’m not a proficient swimmer.” She sniffed, “You owe me a book.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Emily responded, because it would be.

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