#Relaxing Train Sounds and Blizzard Howling

[theastralsage]

Fault Lines

❤︎ tags and content: friends to lovers, mutual pining, one bed trope, snowed in, smut, xavier x f!reader, feral xavier, rough sex ❤︎ author note: reuploaded 🔞NSFW content - Minors DNI 🔞 Dividers: @/omi.resources ©2025 theastralsage do not repost, copy, translate, or modify

The train rumbled beneath you, a steady hum that barely cut through the howling wind outside. Snow streaked past the windows in thick, blinding waves, the storm swallowing the landscape beyond. The interior of the train was warm, but a subtle chill still lingered in the air, seeping through the metal frame.

Across from you, Xavier sat with his arms crossed, gaze flickering between the datapad in his hands and the storm outside. He was composed, as always—sharp lines, cool demeanor, a presence that never quite relaxed, even in transit.

You pulled your coat tighter around you, exhaling softly. “I don’t know why they thought sending us out now was a good idea,” you muttered, watching the whiteout conditions blur past the window.

Xavier didn’t look up. “Weather patterns are unpredictable. It was clear when we left.”

“Still. I bet half the city is shutting down by now.”

At that, he finally lifted his gaze to you. “Then we’ll adjust.”

That was such a Xavier answer that you huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “Of course. Adapt and overcome.”

His lips twitched—just barely—but he didn’t argue.

For a while, the two of you sat in relative silence, the train’s steady motion and the occasional muffled announcement the only things filling the space between words. It wasn’t uncomfortable, though. Xavier wasn’t the type to fill silences unnecessarily, and you’d long since learned to read the conversations in his quiet glances, his subtle shifts in expression.

Eventually, you stretched out your legs slightly, nudging his boot with yours beneath the table. “So. What’s on your schedule after this?”

Xavier glanced at you, considering. “Routine surveillance. Lower district.”

“Exciting.”

He arched a brow. “Necessary.”

You hummed, tilting your head. “Yeah, but necessary doesn’t always mean interesting.”

“I don’t need it to be interesting.”

“Of course you don’t.” Your lips quirked. “You probably prefer it when things are uneventful.”

“Efficiency is preferable to unnecessary complications,” he replied smoothly.

You smirked, leaning back. “Boring.”

He didn’t argue, but there was something almost amused in the glance he gave you before he returned his focus to the datapad.

Outside, the storm thickened. The train slowed slightly, adjusting for the weather.

You sighed, shifting in your seat. “Hopefully this place has good heating. I don’t think I’ve been this cold in a while.”

Xavier made a quiet sound of agreement, his gaze lingering on the frost-lined window. “It’ll pass.”

You nodded, watching the snow continue to fall. Something about it felt heavy, like the kind of storm that could shift plans, change trajectories. But for now, the train carried you forward, the destination still ahead.

The train groaned as it pulled into the station, its momentum slowing until it finally lurched to a stop. Outside, the city was buried beneath layers of freshly fallen snow, the streets dusted white beneath flickering streetlights. The blizzard hadn’t let up—the wind still howled through the towering buildings, sending spirals of ice and powder sweeping across the platforms.

You pulled your coat tighter around you as you stepped onto the platform, boots crunching against the frozen ground. The cold was instant, seeping through the layers of fabric like it had been waiting for you to step outside.

Xavier descended beside you, his expression unreadable as always, though you caught the subtle way he adjusted his gloves, flexing his fingers against the cold. Even he wasn’t immune to it, then.

A sharp gust of wind cut through the station, and you swore under your breath. “Damn. I think it got worse.”

Xavier exhaled, watching his breath fog in the icy air. “It’ll pass.”

“You said that an hour ago,” you muttered.

He didn’t respond, but you could’ve sworn the look he gave you held a flicker of amusement.

A moment later, he shifted slightly, turning to face you fully. “Your route takes you through the research district?”

“Yeah. Shouldn’t take long,” you said, adjusting the strap of your bag. “And you’re headed toward the lower sector?”

He nodded. “Expected to check in before sundown.”

You huffed, blowing warm air into your gloved hands. “Alright. I’ll meet you at the hotel once I’m done.”

Xavier didn’t respond right away, glancing toward the snow-covered city stretching out before you both. The station was bustling despite the weather—figures in heavy coats moving through the haze of frost and lamplight, their footsteps muffled by the snow.

Then, finally, he spoke. “Be careful.”

It was quiet, just two simple words, but something about the way he said it made warmth flicker in your chest despite the freezing air.

You smirked. “You too.”

Xavier gave a small nod, then turned, adjusting the high collar of his coat as he stepped off toward his destination. You lingered for a second, watching him disappear into the crowd, before exhaling and setting off in the opposite direction.

The storm roared overhead.

<hr>

The research district was eerily quiet, muffled by the heavy snowfall. The usual hum of city life was subdued beneath layers of ice and cold, leaving only the distant hum of power grids and the occasional flickering streetlight to break the silence.

You tightened your grip on your coat, stepping briskly through the narrow streets. The cold bit at your face, but you ignored it, focused on the task at hand. This was supposed to be routine—just a check-in with the local researchers, exchanging updated intel, and making sure all sensitive data remained secure.

Inside the main lab building, the warmth was an immediate contrast. The overhead lights buzzed, casting a sterile glow over the pristine floors. A handful of researchers milled about, all looking more exhausted than usual, their coats hastily thrown over chairs. The storm must’ve been keeping them here longer than intended.

Dr. Lian, the head researcher, barely looked up from her screen when you entered. “You’re late.”

You pulled off your gloves, rubbing warmth back into your fingers. “Blame the train. You have the reports?”

She slid a tablet across the counter. “Encrypted, as requested. But there’s been… unusual movement near the old storage facilities. Someone’s been poking around.”

You frowned. “Any breaches?”

“None yet.” She hesitated. “But I have a feeling it’s only a matter of time.”

You nodded, tucking the tablet into your coat. “I’ll flag it for review. Keep everything locked down until then.”

Lian sighed, rubbing her temples. “I’ll add it to the list of things keeping me up at night.”

You smirked. “Welcome to the club.”

With that, you left the lab, stepping back into the freezing cold. The snow was falling heavier now, thick flakes sticking to your hair as you pulled your coat tighter. You had what you came for—now, it was time to meet up with Xavier.

<hr>

Xavier moved through the lower sector with practiced ease, slipping between narrow alleyways and quiet streets, his breath fogging in the cold air.

The lower district was always unpredictable. Even in this weather, figures loitered in the shadows, half-hidden beneath hoods and coats. It wasn’t just the cold that made people keep their heads down here.

He stepped into a dimly lit outpost, the faint hum of security monitors filling the air. The contact he was meeting—a wiry man with sharp eyes and a nervous twitch—didn’t bother with greetings.

“There’s been movement,” the man muttered, pulling up a grainy feed on one of the monitors. “Near the restricted zones.”

Xavier studied the footage. Silhouettes moving where they shouldn’t be. Patterns that suggested more than just random strays.

“They’re testing the perimeter,” Xavier observed.

The contact nodded grimly. “I don’t know what they’re planning, but it’s not small.”

Xavier exhaled, rolling his shoulders. “I’ll report it.”

The man hesitated. “You think command will take it seriously?”

Xavier’s gaze was sharp. “They will.”

That seemed to settle things. The contact leaned back, rubbing his hands together for warmth. “Storm’s getting worse. You should get moving before the trains start shutting down.”

Xavier was already turning toward the door. “I have somewhere to be.”

<hr>

By the time you reached the hotel, the city was practically buried in snow. The storm had thickened into an unrelenting whiteout, the streets coated in ice, the distant hum of emergency broadcasts echoing through the streets.

The lobby was a welcome relief—warm, modern, with soft golden lighting and a quiet hum of activity as stranded travelers checked in. You sighed, shaking the snow from your coat as you stepped inside.

You didn’t have to look long to find Xavier. He was already there, standing near the front desk, his coat dusted with snow, his sharp gaze scanning the room. He looked up as you approached, his expression as unreadable as ever, though you caught the flicker of assessment in his gaze—checking for injuries, exhaustion, anything out of place.

“I take it your mission went smoothly?” he asked.

You exhaled, pulling off your gloves. “Define smoothly.”

A ghost of amusement passed through his eyes, but he didn’t press. “We should check in before the storm worsens.”

You nodded, glancing around. The hotel was filling up fast—travelers seeking shelter, some looking frustrated as they spoke to staff. You didn’t think much of it. Not yet.

As Xavier turned toward the front desk, you followed, unaware that in just a few minutes, everything was about to go very, very wrong.

The warmth of the hotel lobby did little to thaw the exhaustion settling in your bones. The storm outside had only worsened, snow piling against the glass doors as wind howled through the streets. More travelers had filtered in, their coats damp, their faces pinched with frustration as they spoke with staff.

Still, you weren’t concerned. Not yet.

Xavier stepped up to the front desk, cool and composed as always, while you busied yourself rubbing warmth back into your fingers. The receptionist—a tired-looking woman with dark circles under her eyes—offered a polite, if strained, smile.

“Welcome,” she said, fingers already moving across her console. “Name on the reservation?”

“Xavier.” His voice was clipped, efficient. “There should be two rooms.”

The receptionist’s expression faltered. That was the first sign something was wrong.

She frowned at the screen, then hesitated. “Ah. About that.”

Xavier’s brows barely lifted, but you caught the subtle way his posture shifted.

You sighed. “What about that?”

The receptionist winced. “It seems there was a… logistical issue. Due to the storm, we had several unexpected bookings. We did our best to accommodate, but unfortunately—”

A pause. A weary glance between the two of you.

“There’s only one room available.”

Silence.

You stared at her. “One room?”

She nodded apologetically. “We’re completely booked. Every available space has already been filled.”

You exhaled, slow and measured. “Okay. Fine. Not ideal, but fine. It’s at least a double room, right?”

Another hesitation.

Your stomach dropped.

“It’s a single,” she admitted. “With one bed.”

Another beat of silence. This time, heavier.

You weren’t looking at Xavier, but you felt the shift in the air beside you. Like he’d gone perfectly, painfully still.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, finally, you turned toward him. “Well,” you said, voice drier than the tundra outside. “That’s unfortunate.”

Xavier’s jaw tightened just slightly. “...Yes.”

The receptionist, clearly desperate to smooth things over, jumped in. “I truly apologize for the inconvenience. We’d offer a cot, but we’re out of those as well.”

Of course.

You dragged a hand down your face. “Right. So. One room. One bed.”

Xavier exhaled through his nose, the sharp edge of frustration barely visible beneath the usual composure. “It’s late,” he said, voice even. “We’ll take it.”

You blinked. “We will?”

“It’s a bed,” he said, tone just a little too pragmatic. “Given the alternatives, it’s acceptable.”

You squinted at him, but he was already reaching for the room key.

Fine. Fine. You could handle this.

Probably.

Without another word, you grabbed your bag and followed him toward the elevator, the tension trailing behind you both like a second storm.

The moment the door clicked open, you immediately assessed the situation.

It was a nice room—modern, warm, with soft lighting and a window overlooking the snow-covered streets. The heater hummed quietly in the corner, doing its best to chase away the outside chill.

But none of that mattered. Because the centerpiece of the room—the only piece of furniture that really mattered—was the large, singular bed pressed against the far wall.

You and Xavier stood in the doorway, silent.

Neither of you moved.

Finally, you sighed, stepping inside and tossing your bag onto the chair in the corner. “Alright. We’re both adults. This is just sleeping. No big deal.”

Xavier made a noise that sounded suspiciously like agreement, though he was still standing stiffly by the door, like he wasn’t quite ready to commit to entering.

You shot him a look. “Don’t tell me you’re the one making this weird.”

He exhaled sharply, stepping further inside, his movements precise and controlled. “I’m not making it anything.”

“Good,” you said, kicking off your boots. “Because I really don’t have the energy to sleep in the bathtub.”

He gave you a glance—flat, unimpressed. “That’s unnecessary.”

“Well, yeah, but so is sharing a bed with you.”

He didn’t argue.

Another beat of silence stretched between you before he finally moved toward his side of the room, undoing the buttons on his coat with careful precision. His gloves landed neatly on the table, his every movement deliberate, measured.

You, meanwhile, were already face-down on the bed, groaning into the pillow. “This is going to be so awkward.”

Xavier paused, then muttered, “Agreed.”

The heater hummed. The storm raged on outside. And the two of you stood at opposite sides of the room, acutely aware that sooner or later, you’d have to turn off the lights—and deal with the fact that there was, in fact, only one bed.

You exhaled slowly, rubbing your hands over your face as you sat up. The warmth of the room was helping, but the cold from outside still clung to you, a deep chill settled in your bones.

“I’m taking the shower first,” you announced, standing before Xavier could argue. “I need to thaw out before I turn into an icicle.”

He barely glanced up from where he was unzipping his bag. “Go ahead.”

You hesitated. You weren’t sure what you expected—maybe some kind of snark, or another pointedly flat agreed, but no. He was just… casually rolling up his sleeves, focused on methodically unpacking.

Right. Fine. Normal behavior.

You grabbed some clothes from your bag and stepped into the bathroom, locking the door behind you.

The moment you were alone, you let out a long breath.

Okay. This wasn’t that bad. It was temporary. Just a minor inconvenience. You could handle one bed. It wasn’t like you and Xavier were going to be cuddling or anything. You’d both just stay on your own sides and get through the night like professionals.

Totally fine.

You turned on the water, stripping off your cold-dampened clothes while the steam began to curl against the mirror. The shower was heaven—hot water rolling over your skin, the kind of warmth that made your muscles finally start to relax. You stayed there longer than necessary, letting the heat chase away the tension in your shoulders, the chill in your fingers.

By the time you stepped out, wrapped in a towel, the mirror was fully fogged over.

And yet, despite the warmth, a prickle of anticipation settled in your stomach. Because you were about to step back into that room. And Xavier would still be there.

You shook off the thought, quickly pulling on fresh clothes before running a towel through your hair. This was fine. Completely fine.

While you were in the shower, Xavier busied himself with the simple, methodical process of unpacking. Clothes folded. Gear stowed away. Weapons secured. It was a routine he could do on autopilot, a way to ground himself in the familiarity of order.

But then his communicator buzzed.

His gaze flicked to the screen, reading the message quickly.

UPDATE: Due to severe weather conditions, all travel has been suspended. No departures until further notice.

Xavier’s jaw tensed.

More than one night, then.

He glanced toward the bathroom, where the faint sound of running water still filled the room. You didn’t know yet.

He should tell you. It would be the practical thing to do. But instead, he sat down at the edge of the bed, pressing the heel of his hand against his forehead, willing away the very real fact that he was about to spend multiple nights sharing a space with you.

With you.

Xavier had trained himself well—his focus was sharp, his control ironclad. But that control had never been tested quite like this.

He was used to watching you. Observing from a distance, cataloging your habits, the way you moved, the way you felt—a presence that had long since embedded itself in his mind. It was something he could usually ignore, tuck away in the part of his brain that kept things need-to-know, classified, untouchable.

But now there would be no distance.

His gaze flicked toward the bed—the single, far too small bed.

His fingers twitched at his side.

This wasn’t ideal. But it was just sleeping. A basic, biological necessity. If he could manage high-risk operations, enemy encounters, and missions that required complete emotional detachment, then he could certainly manage this.

Except…

His mind betrayed him for a second, slipping past the carefully constructed walls. A flicker of something unbidden—the thought of you in this room, shifting under the covers, breathing soft in the dark.

He exhaled sharply. It’s fine.

The bathroom door opened, and a wave of steam curled into the room as you stepped out, dressed in warm, comfortable clothes, hair still damp.

His gaze barely flickered over you before he forced himself to turn back to his bag, fastening the last strap with precise efficiency.

You arched a brow. “You unpacked?”

“We’ll be here longer than expected.” His voice was as even as ever, though he left out the part about how much longer.

You groaned. “I was afraid of that.”

He nodded. “You should get comfortable.”

You snorted, running a hand through your damp hair. “Right. Super easy when I have to share a bed with you.”

A pause. His grip tightened slightly on the strap of his bag.

That feeling surged up again—quick, sharp, gone before he could examine it.

“...I’ll shower,” he said simply, stepping past you toward the bathroom.

And just like that, he put space between you again, slipping back into the safety of cold water and careful control.

<hr>

Xavier emerged from the bathroom, steam rolling out behind him, his damp hair slightly tousled from where he’d run a towel through it. He had changed into a black shirt and sleep pants, the kind of simple, no-nonsense outfit you should not have thoughts about—but here you were, thinking them anyway.

You quickly shoved those thoughts aside and buried yourself deeper under the covers, pulling the blanket higher like it could somehow shield you from reality. This is fine.

He crossed the room with his usual quiet efficiency, placing his folded clothes exactly where he wanted them, movements sharp, precise, completely unfazed—meanwhile, you were lying there, internally screaming.

Then came the moment you’d been bracing for.

Xavier lifted the blanket and slid into the bed.

You stared at the ceiling. He stared at the ceiling.

The bed felt smaller than it had five minutes ago.

A whole galaxy of space existed elsewhere in the room, but here, under this blanket, it felt like you were occupying the same inch of breathable air. His warmth seeped into the space between you, his presence too much despite the fact that he hadn’t even touched you.

You shifted slightly, trying to find a comfortable position.

Unfortunately, that meant accidentally brushing your foot against his leg.

It was meant to be nothing. A brief, fleeting touch. But the second your freezing toes made contact with his skin—

Oh.

You barely had time to register the fact that he’d tensed before you realized something much, much worse.

That was not his leg.

Your entire body locked up, a slow, creeping horror spreading through your system as realization slammed into you like a freight train.

Xavier was hard.

Like—no-question-about-it, very visibly affected, no way to ignore it—hard.

You stopped breathing.

He stopped breathing.

A thick, suffocating silence filled the room as the two of you lay there, perfectly still, your foot still traitorously pressed against the very real, very undeniable evidence of whatever the hell this was.

Your brain short-circuited.

Oh no. Oh no.

Your entire being screamed at you to move, to fix this, to rewind time and pretend this never happened—but it was like your body had forgotten how to function.

And Xavier?

Xavier was still not moving.

Which was somehow worse, because that meant he was actively trying not to react. And Xavier never hesitated, never faltered, never got thrown off his game.

Until now.

Very, very slowly, you retracted your foot, heat rushing to your face so fast it was a miracle you didn’t spontaneously combust.

“…So,” you whispered, voice strangled. “That’s a thing that’s happening.”

Xavier inhaled sharply through his nose, his jaw clenched so tightly you were afraid he might break a tooth.

You were about to make a joke—something, anything to cut the tension—when his voice finally came, low and dangerously controlled:

“Go to sleep.”

A pause.

Then, unable to help yourself—because you were you and your survival instincts were terrible—you murmured, “Not sure I can now.”

His fingers twitched against the blanket.

You bit your lip, glancing sideways at him. “I mean, should we—”

“Don’t.”

His voice was strained, his breathing controlled, but when you turned your head slightly, you caught it—that look in his eyes. The kind of restraint that meant he was holding back something dangerous.

Something he wanted.

And now, neither of you were pretending anymore.

You could feel the tension thick in the air, pressing down on both of you. You weren’t even sure who was going to break first.

But someone was going to.

The silence stretched between you like a drawn wire, tense and vibrating with something neither of you could ignore anymore. The heat from his body was palpable now, pressing into your side despite the fact that you weren’t even touching.

Not yet.

Your breath came shallow. You could feel the weight of his restraint, the tight coil of it in his muscles, the way his fingers flexed once, twice against the blanket like he was debating something.

You had no idea what would happen if one of you pushed just a little harder.

So, naturally, you did.

Slowly—carefully—you turned onto your side, facing him in the dim light. The sheets shifted, a whisper of fabric, and Xavier’s breath hitched.

And that’s when you knew.

Knew that he was right there, standing on the very edge of whatever this was, waiting for a single excuse to fall.

“…Xavier.” Your voice was softer than you intended, edged with something you couldn’t name.

He didn’t answer.

But then—he moved.

One second, he was rigid beside you, a locked system of restraint. The next, he was rolling onto his side, facing you fully, the heat of his body washing over you like a second blanket.

Then—his hand.

Slow, deliberate, sliding beneath the covers. His fingers brushed over your hip first, barely a touch, before skimming lower, wrapping around your thigh.

You squeaked.

That was all it took.

Xavier exhaled sharply, and then he dragged you closer, his grip firm, pressing your leg over his. The blanket shifted, tangled between you, but you barely noticed because—

Oh. Oh, he was right there.

The sharp scent of clean skin and faint soap. The warmth of his breath, slow but heavy, controlled but barely. His hand on your thigh, fingers pressing in like he wanted to memorize the shape of you.

His voice, when it finally came, was deep, wrecked.

“You keep moving closer,” he murmured, low and deliberate. “What is it you want?”

Your stomach flipped.

“You,” you blurted before you could stop yourself.

A mistake. A massive mistake.

Because Xavier laughed.

Not his usual dry, nearly silent exhale. No—this was low, amused, but dark at the edges, like he’d just been given permission to be exactly what he was.

His hand flexed against your thigh.

And then, so easily, so naturally, he rolled on top of you.

The weight of him pressed you into the mattress, slow and intentional, his knee sliding between your legs like it belonged there.

A breath. His lips ghosted over your cheek, not quite kissing you, but close enough to make your heart stutter.

Then, finally—

“I know,” he murmured against your skin.

And then he kissed you.

Xavier kissed you like he had been waiting—starving for this, for you. There was no hesitation, no testing the waters—just the sheer weight of his mouth pressing against yours, his body crowding into your space until there was nowhere left to run.

You gasped against him, and he took full advantage, slipping his tongue between your lips, deepening the kiss with a precision that made your head spin.

His knee pressed higher between your legs, parting them further, and the friction—God, the friction—made a pathetic little sound slip from your throat.

That sound?

It broke him.

Xavier growled, low and rough, and then his hands were on you—gripping your waist, your thighs, fingertips digging into your skin like he was holding himself back from something even worse.

He wasn’t just kissing you—he was devouring you.

“This what you wanted?” he murmured against your lips, voice thick, wrecked. His teeth scraped your bottom lip, teasing, before he soothed the sting with his tongue. “This why you kept shifting closer?”

Your brain barely functioned enough to register the question, let alone form a response.

You nodded—probably too eagerly—and he chuckled, dark and knowing.

“Thought so,” he muttered, dragging his mouth down your jaw, your throat, tongue flicking over the rapid pulse there.

Then, without warning—his hand slid under your shirt.

You gasped, body arching instinctively as his fingers dragged up your stomach, slow and teasing. He didn’t rush—he took his time, like he was mapping you out, learning every inch of you by touch alone.

You squirmed, half-desperate, half-mortified by how easily he had you falling apart beneath him. “Xavier—”

“Mm.” His lips brushed the shell of your ear. “Still cold?”

The bastard.

You barely had time to scowl before his fingers hooked into the waistband of your shorts, tugging just enough to make your breath hitch.

“You should’ve said something sooner,” he murmured, his voice silk and sin. “I’d have warmed you up already.”

Then his fingers dipped lower.

Your body jerked—a strangled sound leaving your throat—and Xavier just smirked against your skin, all sharp teeth and wicked satisfaction.

Xavier’s fingers traced the edge of your waistband, deliberate, teasing, a slow drag of knuckles against your hip that made your breath stutter. His body was still pressed against you, the heat of him seeping into your skin, his knee still nestled between your thighs, keeping them parted just enough to be maddening.

His lips brushed against your jaw, trailing lower, slow, like he was savoring every second of this.

“You’re already shaking,” he murmured, voice thick with amusement, with something darker. His teeth scraped lightly over your pulse point. “Barely even touched you yet.”

You wanted to snap back, say something, but the second his fingers slid beneath your shorts, all coherent thought vanished.

You gasped—your hips jerking instinctively—and Xavier made a quiet, satisfied noise, his breath hot against your throat.

“There it is,” he murmured, almost like he’d been waiting for that reaction. His fingers skimmed lower, brushing just barely where you needed them, teasing, testing, not nearly enough.

You squirmed, fingers fisting the fabric of his shirt, trying to get more, trying to—

“Ah.” His voice was soft but firm, a warning wrapped in silk. His free hand caught your wrist, pinning it against the mattress. “Stay still.”

You whimpered, half-frustrated, half-desperate, and that did something to him—you felt it in the way his body tensed, in the sharp exhale through his nose, in the way his grip on your thigh tightened.

Then, very slowly, he dragged his lips back up to your ear, his fingers finally slipping between your thighs, barely parting you.

“Good girl,” he whispered.

You whined.

Xavier chuckled—low, dark, pleased—before he sank his fingers into you.

Your back arched hard, a strangled moan ripping from your throat, and he groaned at the feeling of you around him, hot and wet and clenching around his fingers.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his control cracking at the edges. “You’re soaking.”

You couldn’t even respond, couldn’t think, not when he curled his fingers just right—pressing against that spot that made your entire body tremble.

“Sensitive, too,” he mused, voice rough, wrecked. His mouth was back on your throat, biting, soothing, ruining you. “Poor thing.”

His pace was slow at first, deliberate, making sure you felt every movement, every deep press of his fingers, every subtle shift of his wrist.

Then he picked up the pace.

And you—you came apart.

Your breath hitched, your nails digging into his arm, your body tightening around him as the pleasure spiked—a helpless, broken moan escaping your lips.

Xavier cursed softly, his hand tightening on your hip, keeping you right there, right on the edge.

“Come on,” he murmured, a dangerous promise in his voice. “Let me feel it.”

That was all it took.

The pleasure hit—white-hot, all-consuming, tearing through you like a live wire. Your body arched, thighs trembling, breath shattered as you tumbled over the edge.

Xavier groaned, feeling you clench around his fingers, riding it out, his lips pressed against your jaw, his breath ragged.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was your heavy breathing, the faint hum of the heater, the storm still raging outside.

Then, finally, Xavier slowly withdrew his fingers.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he lifted them to his lips—watching you, watching your reaction—as he slipped them into his mouth.

Your stomach flipped.

He groaned softly, eyes dark, heat pooling behind them. “Sweet,” he murmured, almost to himself.

Your brain short-circuited.

He smirked, then leaned down, his mouth brushing against your ear as he whispered—

“You’re still cold, aren’t you?”

A pause.

Then—

“I should fix that.”

Your body was still trembling, heat coiling low in your stomach, your breath uneven from the aftermath of what Xavier had just done to you. But as he hovered over you, smirking like he’d won, you decided—

No.

If he thought he was the only one who could play this game, he was wrong.

Your fingers, still unsteady but determined, trailed down his chest, skimming over the hard lines of muscle beneath his shirt. Xavier’s smirk faltered just slightly, his sharp eyes flicking to yours, curiosity flashing behind them.

“Oh?” he murmured, voice all velvety amusement. “Feeling bold?”

You didn’t answer. You just pushed.

A sharp shove against his chest, enough to catch him off guard, enough to tip the balance—he let you roll him onto his back, his broad frame sinking into the mattress beneath you.

Xavier blinked up at you, surprise flickering across his face for half a second before it was replaced by something hungrier.

He let you do this.

He wanted you to do this.

And now that you were here? Oh, you were going to make him pay.

You straddled his hips, palms splaying over his chest, feeling the steady, controlled rise and fall of his breathing. His pupils were blown wide, his lips slightly parted—but his hands? His hands stayed right where they were, resting at his sides, like he was waiting to see what you’d do.

You smirked.

“Oh,” you murmured, dragging your nails lightly down his stomach, “I’m just returning the favor.”

His breath hitched. Barely. But you felt it.

Your fingers slipped lower, tracing the waistband of his sleep pants, feeling the sharp inhale he took as you brushed against the very obvious problem he was dealing with.

Xavier’s jaw tightened, but he still didn’t move.

So you did.

Slow, deliberate—you reached inside, wrapping your fingers around him, feeling just how thick and hot he was, how he twitched under your touch.

That was the first time you heard it—

A ragged breath.

Not controlled. Not calculated.

Just raw need.

“Fuck.” His voice was low, strained, his head tipping back against the pillow as his fingers finally clenched in the sheets.

You grinned, feeling intoxicatingly powerful.

“You are warm,” you mused, stroking him, watching the way his muscles tensed beneath you.

Xavier groaned, hips jerking slightly, his grip on the sheets tightening like he was actively fighting the urge to take control back.

“I can’t tell if you’re teasing me,” he muttered, voice wrecked, “or if you actually don’t know what you’re doing.”

Your fingers squeezed just a little harder.

His breath stuttered.

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” you whispered.

Then, before he could form a response, you leaned down, dragging your lips over his throat, biting, your hand still working him in slow, torturous strokes.

And that?

That broke him.

Xavier snapped.

His hands moved—gripping your hips, grinding you down against him, making you feel how hard he was, how much he needed this.

His lips ghosted over your ear, his voice low, wrecked, but dangerous.

“You want to play this game?” he rasped. “Fine.”

Then he flipped you again, pinning you hard against the mattress.

“Let’s see if you can handle what happens next.”

Xavier’s grip on your hips was tight, bordering on bruising as he pinned you beneath him, his body pressing into yours, heavy and hot. His breath was ragged, his pupils dark and hungry, and you could feel the exact moment his restraint snapped.

“You wanted to tease?” he muttered, his voice thick, dangerous, pressing his knee between your thighs. “You wanted to test me?”

You swallowed hard, but before you could even think of an answer, Xavier shoved your shorts down, ripping them off like they were nothing, like he had zero patience left.

“Xavier—” You gasped, your breath hitching as the cold air kissed your now-exposed skin—

But then—

Then he slammed into you.

Your back arched off the mattress, a strangled, broken moan escaping your lips as he buried himself deep, stretching you open, filling you.

“Oh, fuck—”

Xavier groaned, his head tipping back for half a second, like he was reveling in the way you clenched around him, your body squeezing him so tight he could barely move.

Then his gaze snapped back to yours, sharp and wrecked.

“You can take it,” he muttered, voice low, wrecked, a promise more than a reassurance. His hands slid under your thighs, lifting you slightly, angling you just right before—

He thrust.

Hard.

The bed slammed against the wall with a crack.

You screamed, nails digging into his back as the force of it sent you rocking into the mattress, your brain going completely blank from the sheer intensity.

Xavier didn’t let up.

He set a brutal pace—deep, relentless, every snap of his hips sending the headboard smashing into the wall, rattling the entire bed frame like it was barely holding together.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he growled against your ear, his breath hot, his voice raw. “Look at you—” Another hard thrust. Another wrecked, helpless moan from you. “—taking me so well.”

You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

He had you pinned, your legs wrapped around his waist, your fingers tangled in his hair, your body shaking beneath him as he fucked you like he owned you.

The headboard cracked again, the frame creaking under the force, but Xavier didn’t care—he just kept pounding into you, chasing something deeper, something desperate.

“You feel fucking perfect,” he groaned, pressing his forehead against yours, his teeth gritted as he slammed into you again, harder, faster.

The bed frame snapped.

One of the legs gave out with a violent crack, the entire mattress tilting, sending you both crashing deeper into the ruined frame—

But Xavier didn’t stop.

If anything, it made him worse.

A feral sound tore from his throat, his grip on your hips tightening, his pace turning almost brutal as he wrecked you, fucked you into the now-broken bed like nothing else in the world existed except the feeling of you wrapped around him.

“You wanted this,” he rasped, biting at your jaw, your throat, dragging his teeth over your skin. “Didn’t you?”

You sobbed out something that was probably supposed to be a yes, but it came out as nothing but a guttural moan.

Xavier chuckled darkly, dragging his fingers between your bodies, finding your clit—

And that broke you.

Your entire body locked up, your breath catching, the pleasure slamming into you like a fucking tidal wave—

You came hard, a choked cry escaping your lips as you clenched around him, body trembling, legs tightening around his waist.

Xavier groaned, his rhythm faltering, his fingers digging into your skin as he buried himself deep one final time, his body shuddering as he came with a low, wrecked growl against your throat.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was your ragged breathing, the faint hum of the heater, the creak of the ruined bed beneath you both.

Then—

“Fuck.” Xavier exhaled sharply, forehead pressing against your shoulder as his body relaxed, chest rising and falling with the aftershocks.

You stared at the ceiling, completely spent, still buzzing from the intensity of it all.

After a long pause—

“You broke the bed,” you muttered breathlessly.

Xavier let out a short, breathless laugh against your skin, his body still heavy on top of you. “Technically,” he murmured, voice still low, satisfied, “we broke it together.”

You snorted, too exhausted to argue.

“Yeah, yeah,” you murmured, still trying to catch your breath. “So, uh… what do we tell the front desk?”

Xavier smirked against your shoulder.

“That we need another bed.”

A pause.

Then, a wicked, dangerous glint in his eye—

“But I’ll just break that one too.”

<hr>

The room was wrecked.

The bed? Ruined. One of the legs had completely given out, the frame split, the mattress slumped at a questionable angle.

You were boneless, sprawled beneath Xavier, your body still thrumming from the absolute destruction he had just delivered. Your legs refused to function. Your lungs still hadn’t caught up.

But your brain?

Your brain had questions.

Like, for example, what the fuck just happened.

Xavier was still on you, his body warm, heavy in a way that wasn’t suffocating—just grounding. His breath was steady now, though his fingers were still absently tracing patterns into your skin, like he needed the tactile reminder that you were there.

And honestly? You liked it.

You let the silence linger for a moment, basking in the quiet hum of the heater, the faint flicker of snowfall outside the window. Then, finally, you swallowed, your voice hoarse, exhausted.

“So,” you murmured, shifting slightly beneath him, “where the hell did that come from?”

Xavier huffed a quiet laugh against your skin, but he didn’t move, his face still half-buried in the crook of your neck.

“You really don’t know?” His voice was lower now, quieter. Softer.

You blinked, tilting your head slightly to try and get a look at him. “I mean—no?”

Another beat of silence. Then, with an almost reluctant exhale, he lifted his head just enough to look at you, his sharp gaze now hazy, warm, fond.

“Because it’s you,” he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Your breath caught.

Xavier didn’t look away.

“I’ve wanted this,” he admitted, voice quieter now, more vulnerable. His fingers traced slow, lazy circles over your ribs, his body still partially pressed against yours. “For longer than I should.”

Your heart stumbled over itself.

“Xavier—”

“You think I don’t notice?” He exhaled sharply, his thumb brushing over the curve of your hip. “The way you look at me? The way I look at you?” His voice dipped lower, his lips ghosting just barely over yours. “You think I don’t feel it every time we get too close?”

You swallowed hard. You knew what he meant. The tension had always been there, unspoken, buried beneath layers of professionalism, logic, denial.

You just hadn’t expected him to be the one to admit it first.

Xavier gave you a look, like he could see the gears turning in your head, and sighed, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

You let out a breathless laugh, overwhelmed, dizzy. “I’m ridiculous? You’re the one who broke a bed over this.”

His lips twitched—not quite a smile, but close.

“I did warn you.”

“You did not warn me.”

“Mm.” His fingers trailed up your side, light and soothing now, as if trying to calm the lingering tremors in your muscles. “Maybe not verbally.”

You groaned, letting your head fall back against the ruined mattress. “Unbelievable.”

Xavier smirked, then, without a word, rolled off of you, pulling you effortlessly with him so that you were half-sprawled over his chest instead of lying in the wreckage of the broken bed frame.

The shift was jarring—one minute, your body was still thrumming from being absolutely wrecked, and the next, you were being held.

And gently, at that.

It sent a different kind of warmth through your chest, slower, softer.

“…You okay?” he murmured, the rough edge of his voice smoothing into something almost tender.

You blinked, caught off guard by the question—by the quiet concern in it.

“Yeah,” you admitted, your voice softer now. “Just… processing.”

His arm tightened around you slightly, fingers dragging over the bare skin of your back in slow, absent motions. “Mm.”

Silence settled between you again, but this time, it was comfortable. Warm.

You shifted slightly, turning your head toward the window, where the snow was still falling outside, thick and slow under the golden glow of the streetlights.

Xavier followed your gaze, exhaling softly.

“…Storm’s still going,” he murmured.

You sighed. “Guess that means we’re still stuck here.”

A pause.

Then, very dryly—

“We should probably request another bed.”

You snorted, pressing your face into his chest to smother your laughter. “Yeah,” you muttered, muffled. “Probably.”

Xavier was quiet for a moment, his fingers still absently tracing over your spine. Then, his voice dipped lower—

“But I’m not sleeping in it.”

You froze.

Slowly, you lifted your head to look at him, your stomach flipping. “Oh?”

Xavier’s gaze was dark again, but not with hunger this time—something else, something warmer, something dangerous in an entirely different way.

“Mm.” His fingers tightened on your waist, pulling you just a fraction closer. “Now that I have you here?” His lips brushed against your forehead, light, teasing. “You’re not sleeping anywhere else.”

Your breath caught.

“…Bossy,” you muttered, feeling your face heat up.

He hummed, his smirk pressing against your temple. “You like it.”

You rolled your eyes, but didn’t argue.

Instead, you settled against him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest, the quiet hum of warmth between you.

Outside, the snow continued to fall.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt completely, perfectly warm.

[lin-nin]

Hi could I have one-shot with either techno or Wilbur (whatever you find easier to write) with a s/o whis always cold and one day steals their cape and it just completely engulfs them. So when Wilbur/techno comes home they just find it adorable and it ends in some sfw cuddles to warm them up

I hope this was okay ❤️ thank you so much

Absolutely! This was a super cute request and I was so happy to write it. I chose Techno bc living in the arctic has to be brutal. I hope you enjoy it!

What’s Mine Is Yours (Technoblade/Reader)

You really hadn’t minded moving to the Arctic North. Techno was there, and that was enough for you. There was also the plus of being able to escape the grasps of L’Manberg as well as the Dream SMP. It was a win-win situation for the most part. The only biggest downside was how unbearably cold it was. It was to be expected, of course. It was so far north, and it felt like it was always snowing. It didn’t help that you were often cold, even back when you had lived in L’Manberg. As such, you spent as much time inside the cabin as you were allowed. It was warmer here with the fire roaring than it was outside, where the wind howled relentlessly.

It was very much one of those days, where despite the fire that you constantly fed logs, the wooden planks beneath your feet were freezing. Everything was freezing, in truth. You peered out of the windows, listening to the wind howl and whip snow around. You could hardly see more than a few meters beyond the house, the flurry obscuring your sight. You simply wrinkled your nose in distaste, sliding down the ladder to the basement. It was even colder here, and that was not exactly something you were fond of. You didn’t waste your time, perusing the chests in search of more wood to feed the fire.

Once you had, you hoisted yourself up the ladder awkwardly, tossing the pile of logs onto the floor. The fire greedily lapped at the bark when you fed it into the fireplace, and you sighed. Hopefully it would warm up, but you weren’t sure it would. These nights were brutally cold. You ached for some sort of warmth, but it was hard for you to find it on your own. Techno was out looking for more totems, so he’d been gone a few days. Which you didn’t entirely mind, you could take care of yourself. It didn’t stop you from missing him, though. You tiredly looked around the room, looking for anything to help you keep warm.

Then you saw it.

Tucked between the lodestone and stonecutter, barely visible, was a bundle of red cloth and white fur. You didn’t waste time in scurrying over to the box, throwing open the upper trap door. The sound you made was pure joy as you picked up the heavy cloth, throwing it over your shoulder. You grunted as you did, trying to adjust to the weight. How the hell did Techno wear this all day? You simply shuffled back towards the fireplace, the ends of the cloak trailing behind you. It was almost like the train of a dress.

You settled on the floor, comfortably curling up and wrapping the thick cloth around you. The chains on it settled as you did, and you fell into a comfortable state of something bordering sleep. The cloak was thick, wonderfully insulating any heat that got in. Keeping you pleasantly warm, and as comfortable as you could be on the wooden floor and leaned against the chest. Perhaps the blizzard would subside soon enough and you could actually tend to the dogs or bees. It would be nice to be able to do more than just wander the cabin.

You weren’t too sure how long you were there. Not so long that the fire died, at least. You only stirred due to the door opening, looking up towards the figure standing there. Techno stood there, shaking his head to knock the snowflakes out of his hair. You shifted a little, watching the door shut behind him. “I wasn’t expecting you to come back yet,” You greeted with a smile. He dropped his bag and axe, sighing as he did.

“It has been a week, it was about time I came home.” The sound of his voice was welcome, as was the soft click of his hooves on the wood. He wandered towards you, leaning down and not hesitating to pick you up. You yelped a little, shifting to cling onto him. “Did you get cold?” Amusement laced his voice as he moved the pair of you towards the ladder leading to your shared bed. 

“Mhm, the blizzard has been going on for a couple days. You know it’s hard to stay warm here,” You murmured, nuzzling your face into his neck. He chuckled, cradling you against him.

“That’s why I left you the cloak.” He looked down at you, lifting the pair of you up the ladder. “...It makes you look tiny.” He was used to having to carry you up the ladder on nights like these. You often would doze off by the fire.

“It’s warm.” You let him settle you onto the bed, staring up at him expectantly. It was like a routine. You would doze off by the fire on the coldest nights, and Techno would come bring you to bed and cuddle with you. It was truly as you preferred it. He simply gave you a bemused smile, slipping off his mask and setting it on the window sill. You immediately scooted over to give him more room on the bed. Once he was settled, you buried yourself into his side with a happy sigh. Having him, and his warmth, back was nice. You couldn’t deny that in the slightest.

“Thank you for leaving it for me,” you murmured, eyelids drooping once more. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close against him. You hummed happily at that, easily giving in to the relaxation he was offering.

“Of course, darlin’. What’s mine is yours, even if that means I go out into a blizzard without a cape.” His laugh was low, careful to keep the peace. Especially as you relaxed further against him, body sagging and breath evening out. You were gone to the world for the night, unbothered by the howling winds and biting cold outside the walls of your house. You had Techno, and that was enough to get you through even the coldest and most ruthless nights.

[apocalypticgargoyle]

𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐔𝐌 𝐈𝐈𝐈 ↟ 𝐓𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞

↠  summary: After receiving a few letters from your previous accomplice, your withstanding in Techno's home is questioned.

↠ fantasy au, slow-burn romance

↠  pairing: c!Techno x fm!reader

↠  tw: angst, mentions of blood, slight manipulation, fighting, language, knives, language, a lil fluff

↠  wc: ~2700

↠  previous chapter ↟ make a request ↟ create the next moodboard

this post contains an image of a letter. if you find it difficult to read, here is the transcript.

The wind howled against the cabin, snow beating against the shutters to make the structure trembled as if it was battling the cold like you were. The heavy blanket around your shoulders served as an anchor from your intruding thoughts as you attempted to self-soothe. The fire blazing in front of you was your only consoling friend as you debated whether or not Techno would make it back during the storm.

In your gross self-pity, you wondered if he even would want to come back. You had been living like a parasite in his domain for weeks, relying on him as your wounds slowly mended. How many times had he stayed up to cool your fevers, or told you to sit down when you had been on your ankle for too long? When would it be too much for him? When would he want you gone?

You had never had another person before. Sure, Dream was your friend and partner, but the two of you lived independently of each other. Techno had gained your respect and trust within a short amount of time and you hated to admit that you liked having him around.

But was it the same for him?

You pulled your knees to your chest, hugging the fabric tighter around you as you dug your nose into its velvety coloring. It smelled like Techno, a mix of pine and sage. It quelled your neediness for his presence. You debated whether or not your worry was because of your obsession with his impression of you, or the fact that he was the first person that had let you rely on them.

The blizzard grew stronger with each passing second, and you were a hairline fracture away from throwing on a jacket and searching the snowbanks for him. Your mind darted to if packing your belongings and getting out of his hair would be the option. Clearing out before he had to tell you to leave seemed almost like the better idea; the possibility of gaining back your independence secretly made you melancholy.

With that, the image of Dream came to you. In the summers when the two of you were hunkered down against a rotting log looking for one of the King’s enemies, you could practically smell the sunlight on his skin. His freckles would darken, and his blond hair would shine as if it were a ray in and of itself. If you let yourself, you could feel his green eyes on you, watching as you would dip your knife in a tranquilizing agent if your target were to be delivered alive. He would always wander into your root cellar, running his fingers along the hanging rosemary and strands of lavender.

He would always pitch the idea of poisoning the King and running away to grow mushrooms in the forest together. For most of your time as accomplices, it seemed like the perfect life but as his brain became infatuated with the poison of power and majesty, it seemed a distant fantasy only to be left for the wind.

The door opened abruptly, Techno stomping out his boots as he kicked the entranceway shut. He shook the snow from his clothing, and you pushed yourself to stand. He grabbed one of the candles, using it to light a few of the others beside the door and blowing into his cold hands for more warmth.

You approached him, leaning on the doorframe as he pulled off his cloak. “You made it back,” you chirped, hoping to mask the utter relief washing through your body. His ruby eyes flashed to you, a softness in them that warmed your heart.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, reaching one of his hands out to you to angle the cut on your face towards him. He inspected that cut at least three times a day and if you would let yourself indulge on the thought, it might have just been an excuse to touch you.

His fingers were cold against your jaw, but you had to restrain your urge to lean into his gentle touch as his eyes grazed over the cut. “Better,” you answered with a light sigh. He looked as if he were holding back something from you, something that was plaguing his conscience.

He pulled away from you reluctantly, digging into the bag he had tossed on the table. His knuckles were red from the cold, the stack of letters in his hands appearing almost pure white. There were specks of blood sprinkled on the edge of the stack. “We found another mercenary searching for you,” he let out a soft chuckle. “I know what to look for now,” he mumbled; a small ode to you. The pair of you stared at the envelopes in his hand. “These are for you,” he added, holding them out for you. There was a seal on the last one, the design mimicking the symbol on your shoulder as it wrapped around the letter ‘D.’

You swallowed, hesitantly taking them from him. He watched you carefully as you examined them, your hands shaking from the anticipation of what was in them and why there were so many. “Did you read them?” You asked; the pads over your finger tracing over the broken seal of the top one.

He shook his head. “Only enough to find out they were for you,” he assured. You trusted that fact. “I’ll leave you alone with them. I need to clean up anyway,” he illustrated, eyes scanning you as you stared down at them. He seemed to have a hesitancy to him as if he were reluctantly giving them to you, wanting to know what it meant for your future.

You nodded slowly, unable to find more words as you threaded the dark green ribbon binding them together through your fingers. Your stomach churned, knotting together as if you were awaiting punishment.

As you sank into one of the chairs, Techno left your side wearily, looking over his shoulder at you before closing the door behind him. You opened the letter he had already seen after counting at least eight letters in the stack. Your mind got fuzzy after eight. The seal was dusted with soft gold. You had always found random flowers to give the appearance of wealth and prestige to your letters when you were sending them back and forth to each other. You figured that it was real gold this time since the color didn’t stain your skin while you brushed over it.

Your heart hammered in your ears, thumb drawing against the blood that had seeped through as you read his words, his voice whispering in your ear with each curl of his handwriting.

The next letter sounded similar, detailing what had become of some of your old teams and idols. He had removed the mad King’s advisors, flushing them with his own. Each word you read weighed heavy on your heart until you figured you couldn’t take any more of the venom in his ink. The sickening nature of him begging for your return made your nerves flip. He was an old friend of yours, brought up through the orphanages as your twin practically, but that didn’t mean you trusted the man that he had grown into being. The boy you had once known was now in shreds, held together by the façade he was hiding behind.

You stood, throwing the letters into the fire and standing back, breathing rigid into your chest. Your ankle began to ache, but you couldn’t seem to bring yourself to look away. With Dream’s threats, you knew you had to leave.

“He calls you ‘hemlock,’” Techno mumbled, his voice coming out in a questioning tone, hesitant of overstepping the unspoken boundaries the two of you had set for each other. He played with his fingers, back pressed against the wall behind him as he avoided stepping into your space. He gave you an emotionless look as if refusing to show his true feelings on the situation. You weren’t sure what he thought of you after diving into that letter. “Almost like you’re some kind of…” he paused, chewing on his lip as his eyes fell to the hardwood floor and then back to your gaze. “Malice,” he finished.

Your mouth grew dry, feeling small and vulnerable in front of him. You inhale deeply, attempting to steady your nerves. “It’s always been some kind of joke for him,” you responded. You weren’t sure if you were defending Dream or fishing for Techno’s assurance.

He nodded. “It’s not very funny, is it?” You shook your head quickly, suddenly finding it difficult not to cry. It had been too long of a day for you. Techno watched you, surveying eyes waiting for you to ground yourself.

He took a few steps, sitting down and motioning you toward him. You silently took a seat at his feet, eyes trained on the fire in front of you as his scent surrounded you. You crossed your legs, taking a deep breath once again. His hands moved into your hair, softly running his fingers along the crown of your head as he separated your short locks. His touch was gentle and calming, brushing against your ear as he braided.

You closed your eyes, letting him relax you and bring you back from your frizzled edges. He was quiet while he worked, your mind silencing to only focus on his fingers. You could swear that you had never felt more at ease than you did then. “Thank you,” you whispered, voice barely audible, worry that if you spoke louder he would hear the extent of your distress.

His hands moved to your shoulders, finished with his words as his fingers rolled against the knots forming. You settled your cheek against his hand. “I’m not going to ask for an explanation,” he began, his thumb pressing between your shoulder blades in a sensitive spot. You focused back on the flames, eyelids feeling heavy. “But I need to know if you’re okay.”

You mulled over his words as he loosened the tension weighing on your mind. “I’m okay.”

⸫ ⸫ ⸫ ⸫ ⸫ ⸫ ⸫ ⸫ ⸫ ⸫ ⸫ ⸫ ⸫ ⸫

The next morning, you were setting your plates on the counter, listening to Techno chop wood outside. The front door clicked open in a rush, a man stepping inside and throwing off his hood. His brown eyes bore into you with a wave of lingering anger you recognized in the eyes of someone when you had been on the other end of their blade. He was increasingly tall, like Techno, but his features were more child-like and innocent, apart from his eyes.

He went after you, lunging for your body as you swiveled out of his path, grabbing onto the knife beside you. Your fingers gripped onto the back of his collar, pinning him to the table with a loud thud. The blade was resting against his throat as the two of you panted, him from being caught off guard and you from being dormant for so long.

He gritted his teeth as you pressed the blade tighter to his neck. “Who are you?” You bit. His Adam’s apple bobbled against the metal as he swallowed, catching his breath.

“I see you two have met,” Techno called, a tired look in his eyes as he spotted the man beneath you.

The brunet chuckled, the sound coming out more like a frustrating example of fear than a true laugh. “I like your new guard dog, Tech,” he mumbled, spitting at you. You pursed your lips, striking the blade against his cheek to draw a bit of blood and making him wince.

Techno rested his shoulder against the wall, crossing his arms. The man’s hand reached to brush the collar of your shirt to the side, his eyes focusing on the branded symbol on your shoulder. His breath was warm against your chest as his expression changed. You continued to glare at him. “It really is her, isn’t it?” He muttered, betrayal evident in his tone. You searched his face as his eyes met yours.

“This is Wilbur,” Techno stated, moving towards the two of you. You pulled away from him, letting him up as Techno stood beside you. Wilbur’s hand reached up to brush away the line of blood trickling from his fresh wound.

Wilbur straightened up, digging into his pocket to pull out a wadded-up piece of paper. He unfolded it slapping it on the table where he had just been laid out by you. Bold letters spelled out the terms of your arrest and the price on your head. There was a crude drawing of what you used to look like staring back at you as you took half a step behind Techno’s arm.

Wilbur stiffened and it hit you. He wasn’t actually after you rather than worried for Techno’s safety. Concern was painted across his face at just how close the two of you were standing as he gestured to the Wanted poster. “I’m not sure what she’s told you, but I know I’m right,” he pleaded. It struck you that the two had previously discussed trading you into the authorities. You weren’t surprised, mainly because before you knew Techno, you would have done the same. “Think of the money. You could actually retire. Give up babysitting-“

Techno cut him off. “No,” he answered flatly, shocking you. “We’ve already talked about this.” You stepped back, leaning against the counter to relieve the weight on your ankle. Techno peered over his shoulder briefly, as if feeling you step away from him.

Wilbur shook his head in disbelief. “They’re going to continue to look for her. It’s not safe.”

Techno shrugged, indifferent towards the look Wilbur was giving him. It made you sick to think of the divide you were causing. “We’ll get her name changed then.”

You raised your eyebrows as Techno chuckled, moving to finish your job as Wilbur looked between the two of you. “Yeah, and how are you going to accomplish that?”

Without a beat, Techno replied, “I guess I’ll marry her.”

Your breath hitched, facing flushing a deep red, but before you could reply, someone else barged in; a blond panting slightly as he doubled over to catch his breath. The two men looked upon the boy, waiting for him to stop wheezing. “Tommy, go home. It’s not safe here,” Wilbur commented. His gaze shifted to you. “Techno’s harboring a murderer.”

So, this was Techno’s famous Tommy; a boy barely older than sixteen and tall enough that he could knock your head off your shoulders with a flex of his elbow.

“Wilbur, we can’t give her up. Who knows what will happen,” he groaned, standing up and putting his arms above his head. You wondered just how far he had run to get to Techno’s. “You weren’t there when we found her.” He looked to the side, giving you a half-wave as he attempted to steady his breathing. If they weren’t discussing such intricate matters, you would have giggled at him.

Instead, you cleared your throat. “I’m leaving soon anyway. There’s no need-“

Techno interrupted you. “No. No one’s going anywhere, okay?” He sighed. “Obviously, we can handle ourselves. If not, at least let her get back on her feet before you excommunicate her from my house, Wilbur,” he adjudicated, his tone quipping as if to suggest that Wilbur’s opinion on the matter wasn’t holding water. “Tommy’s right anyway. You don’t know what it was like.”

Wilbur chewed the inside of his cheek, glaring at you. You felt hot and uncomfortable under his gaze as if he were hexing you secretly. He sighed, grabbing onto Tommy’s arm as he brushed past you, knocking into your sore side. “One wrong move and I’ll kill you,” he stated. You could tell he wasn’t normally such an antagonist, and you respected his devotion to Techno.

You nodded. “I’ll let you.”

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[the-slasher-files]

DIFFERENT PREDATORS - chapter 2 

INCLUDES ANDREI KULOKOVA x XAVIERA LAH-MO

Literally the perfect pair in slasher heaven, or I guess hell. This chapter gives you just more Andrei backstory and a look into his strengths and weaknesses. This little kitten is breaking him down, slowly but surely. If you haven’t already, check out part one.... enjoy 🔪💕

Please go read the chapter from @horrorslashergirl oc: Xaviera’s perspective linked HERE

MASTERLIST

Andrei leaned his head against the wooden headboard, closing his eyes, trying to just still his always active mind. Breathing deeply in and out around his cigarette that hung lazily from his mouth, ashes threatening to fall and burn his naked chest. 

Turning his head to the window he just watched the snow fall hard, whipping around by the careless harsh mountain winds with sharp icy eyes. He could smell something good beyond the tabacco smoke littering the bedroom air; it was warm and hardy, something from home perhaps. 

With that the woman walked into the bedroom again, carrying a tray of food like she said she would bring him and putting it on the nightstand. Two bowls of stew, again one of his favorites. The little lady was tugging at his tough soul through his taste buds. To his surprise she grabbed one of the bowls and sat in the old arm chair near the end of the bed.   

Andrei took the bowl placing it in his lap, continuing to watch her as she spoke “It’s not poisonous if that’s what you’re wondering. If I wanted you dead I would have left you to the wild animals in the snow.” He gave a huff at her fierce personality, it was endearing, cute even.

Looking down at the bowl Andrei took a generous spoonful, closing his eyes savoring the rich flavors of the vegetables and rabbit meat; reminding him of home and his mothers recipes. 

“I’ve been through worse, myshka.” The wolf told her with a smirk. Letting silence fall, and just listening to the cold wind howl, and tree branches brushes along the windows. He didn’t often find having company nice, but there was something about the stranger across from him that he enjoyed.   

“Are you going to tell me now who you are and don’t play that stubborn game of telling me a false name, Andrei Kulokova. It’s not that hard to read your dog tags.” She spoke with confidence, not scared at all by him. Andrei’s icy blue eyes widened a little by having his full name called, he didn’t hear it often for no one really knew him, but it sounded so sweet coming from her lips even if her words were laced with venom.  

“If you know my name is only fair to know yours.” Andrei glared harshly, not wanting her to see a trace of his enjoyment, something he was skilled at.  

“Xaviera Lah-Mo.” She answered. Not an American name but something else, from somewhere that was unfamiliar to the mercenary. Andrei finished the warm stew, enjoying every last drop and placing the empty bowl on the nightstand. 

Huffing he decided to try out his bandaged and twisted ankle. The solider had been through some of Russia’s deadliest undercover missions, he had been shot, stabbed, you name it; a twisted ankle wasn’t going to hold him down. Sitting up letting his feet hit the cold hardwood, he felt a small gentle hand push on his broad scarred chest.

Looking at her he glared a stony cutting gaze but she challenged his perfectly back. “Your ankle is twisted, you need to rest.” her order made Andrei raise his brow.  

“What is it your business if I twist my neck?” Placing a big, rough hand on her arm gently, a silent warning for her not to pull a stupid stunt on him. “I know you care too much for me, but try not fall in love.” the wolf smirked flashing his canines, cockiness coating him like an armor. 

Xaviera just rolled her blue eyes, making him huff a silent laugh “Don’t get all high and mighty. I don’t want to drag your stubborn self upstairs…. again.” his hand tightened slightly on her small arm, eyes growing dark  “And don’t make me kick your ass out. There’s a blizzard outside and there are worse killers that I’m sure will love an injured prey.” 

The wolf laughed a sinister deep laugh, eyes devouring the small woman in front of him, inching his face closer with a deadly grin. The battle persisted between the leopard and the wolf. A dangerous game more so of mental strength, each predator wanting to conquer the other.  

“So much fire in such a little frame, darling…” he mused, lightening up his cigarette, blowing smoke in her face, making her venomous eyes intensify. “I like that” Andrei’s grasp becomes tighter on Xaviera’s arm, loose enough for her to escape but hard enough for her to still struggle. She became quietly flustered under his hand that oozed power, she tried to hide it but the solider was trained to read the smallest of body signals. 

“You know… Some of the deadliest animals are very small.” She whispers almost in a hiss, sounding like a cat ready to lunge. Andrei had experiences with small but deadly predators. He grew up with one, and she gave him his largest scar to prove it.  “Don’t make me scratch your eyes out.” the white-haired woman warned him, tugging her arm from his hold but without success.  

The cigarette from between his lips hangs lazily, while he smirks her way. “Come and try it, little kitten.” and there it was again, the slow blush creeping up her neck and onto her fair cheeks. He was breaking her slowly.

“I’m not little.” She spat back, making him raise his brow again, looking her up and down with a little disbelief.

“Have you looked in mirror?” Andrei huffs and pulls her closer to him, imagining a sick fantasy that plagues him daily. “Your neck will be so small under my hand as I squeeze… your trashing will be like nothing to me, little kitten.” He spoke in a deep growl, watching her face form into a snarl, making the Russian smile sickly, canines peaking through open lips once again.

“If you touch my neck I am gonna castrate you, doggie.” The wolf only mere inches away from her face, one of his large and rough hands moves to gingerly run along her thigh, watching her every movement. She was trying to control her breathing, trying not to show the predator any signs of weakness but it was failing. Andrei saw the kitten breaking and it made him only want her more.

“Oh, you would love to get that close to me, wouldn’t you… that intimate.” he moved his hand from her arm to run the back of it along her blushing hot cheek  “You don’t have to ask, baby girl, you know where to find me.” Andrei removes his hands with a little shove. Grabbing the hot earl grey tea from the nightstand, sipping it and holding eye contact. The wolf liked to play with his prey. Toy with it like throwing a mouse around by the tail.  

Xaviera snorted at his naturally sexual ways. She didn’t know just how much the desire was burned within him from his past. ��Keep dreaming, asshole. One more of that and I am gonna kick your butt in the snow.”  

Andrei scoffed “Baby, I’m from Russia, the snow and cold is no bother to me.” he tells her with a cocky smirk. The wolf knew this was a different cold than the Russian tundra, and he would be stupid to be out in these mountains for too long, but it didn’t matter, he was winning this battle with the small woman.

“You’re infuriating.” Andrei smiles fully, a rare sight, as she just marched out of the room and he heard her go down stairs.  

The stew feeling warm in his belly and a win of a social battle under his belt, he decided to take a nap, aware that there was a predatory lurking in the cottage Andrei knew he was safe, even if she did grab one of his knives and decided to stab him he knew that wasn’t her style. She was a long range hunter by the fact she had a sniper rifle and her inability to ever get away from him. He could sleep now. Memories of trauma and delusions fell from his brain as the wolf closed his eyes relaxing fully.

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

Andrei had been awake for about an hour now, just tossing and turning, he was never a good sleeper but especially tonight. He couldn’t seem to get the girl out his mind. The wolf tried to push it off as she was just small, weak and kind of like his sister, so maybe it was his brotherly protection showing it’s head, but laying there longer, his icy cold stare burning in the ceiling above him, Andrei knew this was more. Xaviera seemed to seep into his tough core, a place for only two other women in his life, one that died by his own hands, while the other left him and would occasionally visit him only to almost kill him.  

Grunting and running his hands through his light brown hair and onto his scarred face, Andrei decided to retry his ankle without the small women being there to stop him. He hissed a little putting the full weight of the 200 plus pound predator on it, but he had been through much worse pain. Leaving the bedroom and making it down the stairs carefully, he saw her. She was curled up like a little kitten on a white fluffy blanket in front of the roaring fire. Walking over he quietly towered over her, a wolf watching the prey, watching every little scrunch of her face and every twitch of her hand. Xaviera was beautiful.

The Russian man turned to walk to the maps he had seen displayed on the table but something stopped him, tilting his back to the girl just thinking. The wolf wanted to leave her there, suffering on the hardwood, but Andrei wanted something else. As if her soul knew Andrei was watching with caring ice blue eyes Xaviera let out a small whine. 

“Fuck” He groaned, the soft spot for women threatening to kill him once again. Andrei picked her sleeping frame up in his large arms with ease. She was like a doll to him.

So perfect.... One to take home...

Hobbling a little he made it upstairs, gently placing her in the bed that she let him use. Andrei observed her once more, the wolf nipping at his neck to grab the throat that was displaying her pluse to him, it was just so beautiful, the tendons, the muscles, but Andrei closed his eyes, balling his fists and clenching his jaw. He roughly turned and walked away closing the door behind him. 

Looking over the cottage he found her maps, with little notes written small within the margins, and her arrows pointing to potential hot spots for the poachers. Curiously he looked them over, seeing if she had more information than he did. The solider within him always focused on the hunt. Then he saw the glint of the familiar metal shining in the low light. Grinning Andrei picked up his favorite knives skillfully twirling them around in his hands, but something made him stop. He heard a soft wail coming from the bedroom, and his grasp on the knives turned into a white-knuckle grip instinctively.

The wolf moved quickly across the living room and up the stairs. Wails turned into screams and his heart started to pound against his chest, breathing picked up at the thought of someone else potentially being in the cottage, sneaking past the skilled solider. 

Barging into the bedroom scanning the surroundings, it was just him and the girl. No poachers or other hunters. Just the two predators, alone. 

The wolfs eyes were sharp and cutting, looking at Xaviera who was on the floor, cowering in the corner, just a girl, not a predator any longer. Reminding him of his sister, shaking and hyperventilating, eyes scared and broken. A look he knew all too well. What demons lurked in the night had come for her and it tugged on his cold heart to see anyone go through that. Everyone had a past. Everyone had trauma.

Andrei laid the knives down on the tangled sheets of the bed, walking slowly towards her “sssshh... sssh... myshka” he whispered, bending down in front of her. Eyes still wild he needed to pull her out of this. “hey, hey... sssh... you’re fine” Andrei didn’t reach for her but just waited, allowing her to take as much time as she needed. “Little one, sssh” observing her he settled on the floor and surprisingly Xaviera reached for Andrei, clutching his shirt and resting her forehead against his chest. 

His icy blue eyes widened at the sudden show of affection, but he welcomed it. Carefully placing unsure hands around her shaking frame, feeling her trying to even the breathing that was harshly stuck in her throat. This took him back to Russia, living in a dangerous home, comforting his sister under the moonlight from her night terrors, trying to desperately protect her from the brutal world they grew up in.  Xaviera pulled away suddenly, uncomfortably. Taking a deep breath in and closing her eyes.

“It was nothing.” Xaviera told him in a quiet voice, exiting the bedroom and going downstairs. 

Andrei sat there for a moment, breathing in deeply remembering the harsh reality of the world and how it twisted and fucked over the people within it, beating down even the strongest predators at times. He stood tall, grabbing the knives and sitting on the bed, absent-mindedly playing with them as he watched the snow fall in the night. 

Two predators broken within, made tough with claws and teeth to present and hide the vulnerability under the skin.                                

[jean-does-not-have-a-horseface]

Before Dawn ~Pt4~

I was so so so so so insecure to post this chapter so I only hope you enjoy first smooches with Levs. My requests are always open so if you're in the mood you can always drop by and request anything.

Find the other chapters here

Warnings: mentions of blood and a tad if nudity

As always @hidehaskak

Snow veil

"I'm so cold."

The raging blizzard blows mercilessly onto you and Levi. As tremendously large snowflakes fly to every direction as the wind makes an unbearable howling sound you clutch your one hand closer to Levi's winter cloak. Your lower jaw is radically colliding with your top one as you wrap your other arm around you in hopes of warming up. You can feel Levi tensing up every time a new wave of ice cold snowflakes land on him at the freezing weather and even though he's shaking, much like you, he speaks no words back to you.

He probably feels guilty for being the one to accidentally force your duo into this. After last year's fiasco involving Levi's, Farlan's and Isabel's inclusion to the military without having received proper training Mike had taken upon himself to investigate on any lack of training between both new recrewts as well as older veteran corps members. As a new squad leader and section commander he didn't want to take any chances against the survival of his soldier and you admired that deeply. His compassion and determination were always things that made you trust him blindly whenever Erwin assigned him in command of your old squad.

Therefore the plan was simple; you'd take the route assigned to you in small groups of four and you would head to a training corps base according to map. It should only take three hours to get there by horse and then you were free to relax, always following strict curfews.

But as beneficial as Mike had thought winter training would be he would have never guessed the raging blizzard or the avalanche that separated you and Levi from your groups.

It's had taken an hour for him to try and locate anyone of his team, his flares weren't working due to the hawling wind scattering the smoke around, when he finds you. He watches in horror as you try to cover your face with your arms to protect yourself from the cold, ignoring the necessity of looking at your surroundings and most particularly, ignoring the vast cliff that lays only a few teeny centimeters away from your horse's feet.

Speeding up to catch up to you, Levi hit the sides of his mare in a tender manner with his feet. The horse speeds smoothly for only a few meters, as if there isn't any snow around to be bother by. Levi takes it upon himself to treat his horse to some fresh apples and carrots he has in his bag once this was all over. His mare deserves a little rest and some extra treats for all the excellence and delicacy she carried.

"Hunny no!"

He had only avert his eyes for a fragment of a second when your horse tripped over the edge of the cliff urging you to let out an eardrum piercing screech that made the ravenette run to your direction. With a harsh dry halt his mare stopped on her tracks just at the tip of the cliff in a rather convenient coincidence of time. Had he been a second later how wouldn't have been able to grap your forearm as you shot up in the air. No matter his strength and his quick tactics you had managed to startle him with your despairate scream for your horse as it detached from the stirrup that was stuck to your leg, causing him to let you slip for only just a bit. Nonetheless it turns out to be enough to send the rest of your body clashing with sharp rocks. The levels of adrenaline inside you prevent you from realising the damage you have received; an enormous wound that stretches from your back ribs to the under side of your breast, gashing enough blood to slowly drench your clothes crimson.

Levi much in a stressful haze as you, ignores the wound as well, his orbs glued to your petrified expression as your body gives in to a potential tragically painful death. Without wasting anymore time he forces your body up, none of you hearing the sounds of bones cracking and in seconds you find yourself sinking in a puddle of delicate white. This time Levi doesn't fail to notice the hot crimson liquid that contrasts with the snow.

You find yourself unable to speak. Your voice is cracked, stuck in the back of your throat as your sides and more importantly your leg, finally start pulsing with agonizing pain. Even if you try to fixate your hearing to Levi's words you fail miserably, battling hot tears that gather at the bottom of your eyes. Levi helps you on his mare, wrapping you securely with your winter cloak to keep you warm and you sigh in return to his comforting actions.

You only force yourself to speak to inform him of your location in the mountains.

There should be a small barrack like resort of hot springs and saunas around that nobles have abandoned in the last few years and if you took the right path you could reach one of them in time, before the sun set.

That was your initial plan nonetheless, from the moment you got separated with your team. Search parties could definitely find you there faster as well, they would be aware of the locations and by thinking of a right way to pinpoint your location you would save them from a lot of extra trouble. Nobody really wanted to spend so much time in the cold snow searching in vain. You knew that one so far.

"T-theres a hot springs resort, not very far-" you speak, voice trembling with each exhale, making Levi drop his shoulders just a tad in blissful relief.

"Tch, don't push yourself"

"I was searching for one, it shouldn't be far, judging by that cliff we have to head a few miles southwest."

Levi simply nods in response and urges you to hold tight onto him as he sets off. You reach your hand to apply pressure to your wound, you know there's a chance that if you don't even try you're going to die by immense bleeding and Mike will not hesitate to haunt you in the afterlife for not dying like a proper soldier.

Words barely slip your mouth whenever Levi asks for directions or of your condition, the pain you're feeling is excruciating to say at least and you begin to wonder if you're ever going to manage to one of those springs. Levi will have another burden on him, a full dead body to take care of and even though somewhere deep inside you a little ring of panic lingers and you hate yourself for thinking like that you try to stay calm and collected.

As if the God of Walls has been invading your very thoughts you quickly stumble into a breathtaking scenery. A small, snowy paradise lays before your eyes; a wooden cabin with a roof so white that it resembles a bride's vail and a teeny puddle of water that emits sheer smoke. The oasis is well hidden from the tiny trainee headquarters, but you can still make them out, maybe a flare once the storm is over will help you get found out sooner.

"Levi is that really a hot spring, or am I hallucinating?" You check with him, merely to confirm that you're still not in a close to death state.

"I'd be damned if it isn't"

___

"I'm not getting naked in the freezing cold" You bark at him with a tone so high pitched he feels that his eardrums will burst.

"Unbelievable! You're not even calling the shots, your leg is shattered and your side is torn open." Levi's voice is harsh and stern and swelling from the boiling anger in his chest for that he can't bring himself to understand how you even manage to deny the essential medical care you have to receive.

"No!"

"You have wounds to attend to, and I can't do it if you are soaked in dried blood, that being said you'll be infected and full of maggots tomorrow if we don't take action."

Your lips have formed a distinguishable pout in your face, he knows that expression as the one you get when you're being stubborn, difficult even so he takes it upon him not to buck down. No one else is going to die on his watch, especially if it not even by titans.

"Well" you nervously avert your gaze "Maybe I don't want you to see me naked!"

"Do you ever think about what you're saying or do you blurb shit out of your mouth like it's explosive diarrhea?" Levi snairls at you. "This is no time to be a prude."

You're suddenly at loss of words. Prude? He really had just called you prude out of all things, then and there and even he was probably just a little right, you really couldn't bear the thought of you being so suggestive around him. And he seriously doesn't see that, when he is supposed to be an expert at reading people.

Perhaps believing that he looked at you under any other light apart from being your superior was a misjudgment of yours.

Nevertheless when you decide to take off your clothes your efforts fall in vain. The pain in your leg won't even let you have control of the limb and you can barely even shuffle around due to your side. Levi takes a notice, he has to since his eyes are fixated on you and you watch as he comes closer. His hands are most delicate to the touch, helping you wordlessly with the binds of your chest that have stuck to your wound. You let out eventual flinches, huffs of misery from the extravagant pain, making Levi sigh in turn. When his arms wrap around your form your hands go to cover anything you can salvage from his eyes even if he seems to not pay any form special attention to your bare chest.

The situation is rather hard to grasp. One, because you haven't had such soft, warm bath in years and two because Levi, out of all people is in the very same hot spring as you. The water is soothing, flowing peacefully around your body as Levi works his handkerchief around your wound with one hand. The other, he uses to keep you steady in the water making up for the fact that you can't stand on your own feet.

It's a prominent position, if you had to admit. Your forehead rests on the top of his head while your chests barely graze and you have to remind yourself that he's only doing this to take care of you, because he's Levi and he's extraordinary compassionate with his comrades and not because he has any affectionate intention towards you. As unfair as it sounds to you, even if it makes your head and heart grieve the loss of a lover that's not even yours, you can't help but want to look into his eyes. You only manage to do so when he slightly pulls away to grap the bar of soap that rests close to his hand.

You bite your trembling lip in hopes of halting it. He looks like a God under the moonlight, bathed in hot water. Soft unevenly full lips are tinted with sheer purple and his skin is so much more paler than possible that you can see blue and purple blood vessels underneath his eyes. His short ebony locks are sticking to his forehead while droplets travel from their ends to the expansion of his face only to finally gather underneath his chin. Why did he have to look like that, and why did your heart flutter every time his steel eyes blinked into yours.

"Can I kiss you?" It falls out of your mouth mechanically, serving as a bold reminder that your words have once again taken over you.

Levi doesn't exactly react, not just yet, he only examines you with his eyes. Up and down you watch them run until they stop at your lips, your chin, anywhere in that area of your face.

His thumb flickers on his lips but never dares to jump the few centimeters that stand in the way to yours. He's undoubtedly awestruck by your inquiry and you can see it, but your vision is quickly blurred by an unfamiliar piercing feeling. Of course that's rejection. Why would he ever say yes. And most importantly what were you thinking?

"That morphine shot is messing with your head, which means it's probably time to patch you up."

But he doesn't make a single move to ruin the moment. You take notes as his hand leaves his own lips and dives into the water, standing just inches away from your waist. The ungrant permission to touch you in such suggestive way prevents him, even if you're the one who's waiting for a reply to drop from his lips.

He contemplates on the dynamics, is it you that tops him or are you downgrading your position to the title of his chair, he hopes it's the first, it makes him feel free, as if he's not needed to lead for once, deep down all he wants to do is follow.

That boiling spitfire inside of you insists of getting a solid answer, even if you try to push it in the darkest crevice if your mind. It wins, almost without any fight, mostly because you want to hear to believe it.

I don't want you to kiss me. That's all he has to say.

"If you don't do it, now, I'll shit my pants from the anticipation." What?

Without a second thought you shift your head forward, closing the gap between you. His lips are strong, cold and they taste like green olive soap, the one he's always using, but they don't feel foreign on yours. If anything the two pairs lock perfectly as if they're a match made by heavens, meant to find each other in this dark December night under a million snowflakes.

It doesn't last for long, a fact that engrosses you out and it's not lust filled either. It's soft and extremely fragile and you're taking the lead while you slowly move your lips up and down. Levi doesn't know your stomach is about to burst and that you're sure it will slip from the wound on your side if it continues swelling up with all this pride. In turn you don't know that his heart is clenching his chest in agony.

You're extremely against pulling away but you do, to inspect his expression for a brief second. The adorning curling of his lips is in perfect balance with his soft brows. Before you know it his hands are at the small of your back and underneath your clothed bum searching for ways to support you without hurting you. The only hand you can move goes to graze the coarse shaved hair at the nape of his neck.

The second kiss you share is much more passionate and greedy. It takes all you've got to limit your breathing through your nose; you want this to last. Your longing to taste him for as long as you can doesn't allow your lips to slips away from his.

His hands still grip on you so respectfully, as if you're going to regret this and push him away. But it never happens, you just continue to scratch at the back of his head, urging him to get impossibly closer. Even though panic ensues through his whole being, making his hands shake and his cheeks glow red, he manages to pull through this loving task with ease.

He doesn't want to pressure you just yet, so his thoughts never reach the tip of his tongue, but is this for real? Or was it his wild imagination?

With a pinch on his nose he pulls away, sparing a last glance at your swollen lips. "We should... Get out. I'll patch you and then-" As you interrupt him he doesn't miss the way your eyes avert from his.

"Of course sir. I'm sorry I got so carried away."

Levi snorts. So that's how it is then.

[icestrawberryfreeze]

"Fuck me into the ground and leave me there to rot," you groaned into the couch cushion.

Arceus must have it out for you. Waking up earlier in Olivia's house, to the sound of your phone ringing nonstop, you knew that it wasn't going to be a good day.

Grumbling, you answered to a loud professor stating that Rotomdex is in need of his monthly tuneup. Suggesting that you'll send him over there once hanging up, he insisted that you had to come.

He gave the excuse that he hasn't seen you in a while and, unsurprisingly l, wanted to see how his assistant was faring.

"We saw each other, like, last week."

Beat.

"Can't I just not want to see your face?" He chuckled at the end.

"No."

With Kukui's boisterous laugh dying down from your dead panned answer, you begrudgingly agreed to take the dex to him personally.

Throwing on a hoodie, basketball shorts, and some - never again - flip flops, you left your Pokemon in the care of Olivia and Kiawe, the fire user taking it upon himself to be a white knight.

He grabbed your hands, his body heat rivaling Kukui's from his hands alone. "I'll ensure that they are well taken care of."

You could only smile up at him. Taking your hands out of his, you picked up Hahai.

"Well then. Enjoy." You plopped the feline into his hands, turning your back on him as sounds of yowls filled the air.

Hahai never did like Kiawe.

°°°°°

Two hours later, you were inside the professor's lab. And you got in just in time. It started to blizzard once you reached the beach. Rushing pass Kukui once the door opened, you zipped down to his basement and took out Rotomdex before placing it on his main desk.

You jumped into his daybed soon after, the flip flops off in a flash.

By the time Kukui came down the stairs, you were in a a blanket burrito. Only your eyes peeked out.

"Comfortable?"

Your answer was to flop onto your side and closed your eyes. The professor chuckled and soon sounds of him tinkering lulled you to sleep.

°°°°°

Sometime after, you were woken up by Kukui. He was shaking your shoulders - covers fell off during your sleep - and you immediately got closer to the warmth.

"Well ain't you running a fever, cousin?" Kukui placed a hand on your forehead. He hummed. The bed shifted as he got up and an involuntarily whine came from your throat.

You blacked out soon after and the next time you woke up, you found yourself on the couch upstairs.

You pushed back the covers, finding your hoodie was pulled off. But you did notice that instead of a bra, you wore one if the professor's old shirts.

Soft cooing trained your eyes downward, Stufful standing up on her hind legs staring up at you.

You stretched your hand out, the pink cub raising hdr head into your palm. You cooed yourself, ignoring the gurgling of your stomach. The stufful jumped up onto the couch, resting on your lap.

"Oh, you sweet thing." You stomach lurched as you spoke, causing you to fall onto your side. "We'll, fuck me softly." The stufful nudged you with her nose a few times, jumping down when the young woman groaned.

You blamed the flip flops. You might've been up and at them if it wasn't for those damn things, you might be okay.

Though, glancing out the window at the now raging snowstorm, it wasn't going to be like you could escape the lab anyway.

°°°°°

Kukui shouldered the door to his lab open, a brown bag of food in his arms, Rotomdex zipping inside before the professor shut it back.

"I've never seen something like this happen in Alola before," the electric pokemon spoke, shaking its appendages from the snow that still laid on them.

Kukui being... Kukui, he went to Iki Town in his usual get up. Ain't it cold?

Please.

He was crafted for this weather.

Taking off his hat and placing it on a hook close to the front door, he went over to the dining room table and set down the groceries.

Whirring to his right made Kukui turn to see Rotomdex hovering behind him, his expression worrisome. "Is something the matter little buddy?" he asked him.

"My trainer." The professor could only help but smile at that. "Will she be alright? "

Kukui shrugged out of his lab coat. "Of course! It's just a cold. The constant change of weather hasn't really helped her body stay healthy." He pulled out some bell peppers and cheri berries. "After I make this sure to get well chili, she'll be back on her feet in no time."

°°°°°

Waking you up was not the easiest thing the alolan professor had to deal with. He had placed the bowl of chili onto the TV stand before taking a seat beside you.

Splayed out limbs over the couch, you looked like a hot mess. His shirt was a few sizes too big but it still showed off your figure. Kukui rested his arm over the back of the couch. There wasn't much that he could do.

If he didn't want to be kicked in the crotch again, that is.

He would just wait for you to wake up naturally. The wind howled, Rotomdex buzzing around the lab aimlessly. The professor closed his eyes after a while.

Kukui's eye snapped open when he felt a head lay itself on his chest. You had crawled over the nearest source of heat, your body relaxing into him.

Hands up, the professor didn't know what to do. You must be really sick if you ever cuddled up to him like this. His eyes fell on the bowl. Now you really needed to get better.

Seeing you like this makes him feel weird.

He placed his hands on your shoulder, getting ready to get up to give you the couchonoy for your arms to circle his waist.

"Well, that plan is out of the question." Kukui could only sigh, leaning back into the couch defeated. He hesitantly placed his hands on your back, still expecting you to karate chop his neck out of the blue, before holding you close to his body.

Again. Not like there was anything he could do. With a sigh, he closed his eyes once more.

°°°°°

You sighed, taking the the thermometer from Kukui's mouth. Two days after waking up to be found in his arms, cuddling mind you, he seemed to have caught the cold you had. No here he was - in his bed- looking like shit.

"This wouldn't have happened if you just kept your hands to yourself," you chided, picking up a warm towel to place on his forehead.

Professor chuckled which turned into a coughing fit. "Do I have to remind you that it was you that crawled on top of me?"

"If you mention it one more time, it'll be your last time reminding me." Picking up the bowl of soup you made earlier, you handed it to him. "But then people might be sad and...you did take care of me. So it's only right to do the same to you," you ended it with a scratch to the back of your neck.

Kukui raised a brow. "Am I actually growing on ya?"

Pinching his cheek, you snickered. "Oh, don't push your luck."

[dragon-fics]

DOS: Secret to Not-So-Secret {pt. 3} (Ugauc X Male Elf/Reader)

Chapter summary: Eda and Ugauc finally meet. But how long will it be sefore anyone else finds out about your secret...

pt. 1, Pt. 2, pt. 3 pt. 4, pt.5

N/T: New Trade (Blacksmithing, carpentry, writing, sculpting, etc.)

“Who is that?!” Ugauc and Eda exclaimed in unison.

I froze, glancing from one to the other.

Eda scowled and placed her hand on the hilt of the sword she carried. “Get away from us!” She warned, removing the blade from its scabbard and stepping in front of me.

Ugauc’s lips lifted as he growled, sharp canines flashing. He looked from me to Eda, unsure what to do.

“Eda! Wait! Please,” I pleaded, stepping in front of her.

“(Y/N), what are you doing?!” Eda called.

I stood firmly between her and Ugauc; I couldn’t let them hurt each other.

I gave Ugauc a small smile and his stance slowly loosened, but he didn’t take his eyes off of Eda.

I looked to Eda; she was still gripping onto her sword. “Ugauc won’t do anything, I promise, so please, put down your sword, Eda,” I begged.

Eda looked from me to Ugauc. “If I do, you need to explain everything.”

“I will, I promise.” I glanced to her hand. “Please, just put it down and give it to me.” I held my hand out to receive the sword.

Eda looked away and drew in a breath. She put her sword back in its scabbard and slowly removed it. She looked to Ugauc as she held the scabbard between both her hands. “You better not try anything,” she warned. Ugauc didn’t respond. Eda finally placed the sword in my hand.

“Thank you,” I whispered, feeling somewhat relieved she had handed it over. I took a step away from them both.

“Ugauc, this is my sister Eda,” I gestured to her. Ugauc inclined his head. “Eda, this is—“ I caught myself, unsure what to tell her. “This is my soulmate, Ugauc.” I gestured to him this time. He smiled.

I looked to Eda as a wave of emotions contorted her face. Surprise, confusion, anger and fear were some I saw.

She stayed quiet for a long time, trying to hide her emotions as much as possible.

I backed up towards Ugauc, perhaps out of fear. He moved towards me and put an arm and wing around me.

“How are you so sure?” She asked.

I explained to Eda about the ‘invisible bond’ that led Ugauc here, how we met and  our secret meetings—which happened to just spill out of my mouth.

Eda sat down on the bed of animal hides. She sighed and put her head in her hands.

“This... explains a lot, like where you were during the hunt and why you didn’t come home, why you haven’t been focused on (N/T), and why you disappear for so long every day.” She sighed again.

The wind howled outside. I sat down beside her and shared the bison hide on my shoulders.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you, but Ugauc really cares about me.” I held his hand as he stood beside us. “And I really care about him.”

Eda smiled softly and tugged on the bison blanket. “I won’t tell anyone, I promise, but people are noticing your disappearance. And soulmates are such a huge thing among our people. You’re going to need Mama and Papa soon before they push you to find someone you’ve already found.”

“That’s not going to be for years. But if I do that...” I started. Ugauc placed a hand on my shoulder.

“How about we just survive this snowstorm first, and think about that later,” he suggested. I smiled softly and nodded.

Our father had been one of the fiercest hunters for many years for our clan. If I told him about Ugauc, he wouldn’t live to see another sunrise—and he knew this.

Ugauc gathered the wood he had dropped and set up a fire. Once he had built a pyramid shape, he shifted to his beast form. Eda was taken aback and almost reached for her sword. I took her hand in  mine, reassuring her it was alright.

Ugauc blew a small yellow flame onto the pyramid of sticks. They caught fire after he held the flame for a few moments. He studied the flames before shifting back to his humanoid form and settling on the hides beside us.

Eda slowly relaxed and focused on the flames.

“Let’s just hope we don’t run out of firewood,” Ugauc whispered, running his fingers through my hair.

*-*-*-*

No POV

“Where do you think you’re going?” Eda asked (Y/N) as he walked passed her in the streets, heading towards the woods. It had been over a week since the blizzard and most of the snow had yet to melt.

“Mama needs some apples to make a pie, so I said I’d go,” (Y/N) replied, tapping his satchel.

Eda sighed. “We both know you’re not just going to do that.”

(Y/N) sighed. “Of course I’m going to see him,” he replied, agitated. He and Eda walked towards the woods together. “He’s my boyfriend, and I enjoy spending time with him.”

Eda sighed this time. “You’re going to get caught, eventually.”

“That’s why I’m visiting him as much as possible.”

“No, I mean... Someone might follow you, and you know how people feel about—“ She looked around and lowered her voice, “—his kind.”

They stopped in front of the line of trees.

“I know, that’s why I take a route no one will ever find, or be able to follow.”

Eda was now extremely agitated at her brother’s cheeriness, and quite possibly, idiocity. “Just... make sure no one follows you.”

(Y/N) smiled. “I’ll be fine, Eda.” He placed a hand on his sister’s shoulder and walked off.

Eda watched him leave before starting back towards their house.

***

All the while, Bracken had been listening.

His kind? Is (Y/N) seeing someone from a different clan?

With his new trade, perhaps he wanted to meet someone from the (N/T) clan from the south?

But he’s supposed to be training here, as Fírning’s apprentice. So why contact that clan?

And father has never been keen on their leader. Perhaps this is an act of vengeance for abandoning him during the hunt.

But if he’s doing that, he’d be a traitor to the clan!

He needs to be stopped.

Bracken nodded his head firmly and followed (Y/N) through the trees, shouldering his crossbow and griping the hilt of his sword.

*-*-*-*

Y/N’s POV

I hummed softly as I picked apples from one tree. I often hummed while doing tasks; it was just my way of getting through them.

As I put another apple into my satchel, I heard wingbeats above me. I looked up to see Ugauc hovering over me. He landed softly beside me.

“Good morning, little elfling,” he hummed, planting a kiss on my forehead.

“Good morning, fierce dragon,” I replied, testing out a new nickname for him.

Ugauc chuckled and held me in his arms. “I like that one.”

“You say that every time,” I said, smiling.

“That’s because I love everything your creative little mind comes up with and everything you say.”

My cheeks flushed bright red.

“Ugauc!” I scolded, hitting him on the shoulder.

“But it’s true,” he said defensively. I shook my head and went back to picking apples.

“So, why do you need so many?” Ugauc asked, picking apples from a higher branch and putting them in my satchel.

“Mama is baking today, so I’m here to collect apples for her pies. They’re delicious,” I added.

Ugauc smiled. “They don’t sound very appealing to my tastebuds, but to each his own.”

“I could bring you some tomorrow... if any survive that long.”

“All right, I’ll give it a try, if you can save it from the savages you have as a family,” Ugauc joked.

I laughed. He smiled.

But then his face dropped, and he whipped around, his face hard and his eyes scanning the bushes behind me.

Before I could ask anything an arrow came from the shadows and hit Ugauc in the shoulder. Another one came from the same spot, but he caught it just before they embedded a second one in his thigh.

My breath hitched; someone had found us.

Ugauc growled and shifted to his beast form, emerald scales glistening in the sun. The arrows that had been embedded in his flesh fell from the wounds onto the ground as he shifted.

“No!” I shouted as he shifted. I heard a crossbow being loaded again, but with a different arrow; a slaying arrow. An arrow that could kill a dragon if aimed correctly; usually for the artery in the dragon's neck

“Don’t!” I called, but they had loosed the arrow. Time slowed down as I saw the four-pointed broadhead arrow slice through the scales on Ugauc’s neck. Navy blood spilled from the wound as the arrow embedded itself in a tree behind Ugauc.

Ugauc fell to the ground with a heavy thud(i). I rushed over to him as blood trickled around the front of his neck.

“No. No. No. No. No!” I begged, frantically thinking about what I could do. Tears spilled from my eyes, I had to stop the bleeding.

I lifted my knee-length grey tunic off my body and wrapped it around his neck.

As I studied where the wound was, I knew the arrow had missed the major artery to the brain, but there was still so much blood and I had no way to heal him quickly.

“Just hang in there, ok, Ugauc? Please, just hang in there!” I pleaded, putting pressure on the wound, my tunic already turning navy.

“Fraternising with a dragon. Who knew you would be the one to do such a thing?” Came a male voice, one I knew.

“Bracken,” I seethed, whipping my head around to him.

“You were supposed to kill the dragon! Not kiss him! How could you betray your own clan like this?” Bracken yelled.

I wiped away my tears and got to my feet. “I didn’t betray anyone, and he has done nothing!” I yelled back.

“If we thought like that, and waited for them to attack us, we wouldn’t be standing and our village would be ruins!” Bracken stepped closer to me and punched me in the nose. My head exploded with pain as I fell to the ground.

“Bracken!” Called Eda’s voice. “Step away from him!” She ordered. But before he could move, Eda hit him across the head with the hilt of her sword, knocking him out.

She rushed over to me. “(Y/N)!” She shouted as I lost consciousness.

Here’s a meme for y’all that inspired a line in this.

[lu-undy]

(This is my second time requesting after you opened your askbox, but you wouldn't know that :)) Lu and Medic play a violin and piano duet together (or Demo plays the piano and Lu sings) and Mundy kinda has a bruh moment wherein he realizes he loves Lucien

Hey there! Glad to see you come back :D !! Here it is, Spy sings like a God, hope you enjoy!

"So, what did you prepare for tonight, fancypants?" 

"Scout, ask me one more time and what you will need to prepare for tonight is your will." 

"Alright, alright…" Scout sighed. "You party pooper…" He mumbled to himself.

Sniper smothered his chuckle. Around the dinner table, the mercenaries were enjoying their dinner, their dessert to be more precise.

"Pardon?" Spy asked menacingly in his native tongue. 

"N-nothing…" Scout hid behind his yogurt, scared. 

"So, tonight is Spy's turn, right?" Engie asked, to brighten things up.

"Oui. I asked Demo for some help."

"You yelled at me for the entire week, mate. Please, Engie, never let him rehearse his stuff with me, send anyone else but me!" Demo took a swig of his beloved scrumpy. 

"I only pushed you to give your best for our performance tonight." Spy simply answered and he saw Sniper roll his eyes with a smile. 

"Alrighty then, if we're finished with dinner, you guys go and get ready, we'll come in about half an hour."

"Very well. Demoman, I will not wait for you." 

[Très bien.]

"Someone please save me from him…" Demo exaggerated his plea.

"C'mon, mate, how hard can it be?" Sniper said to comfort him. 

"Well, very hard! Next time, you go and work with him!" 

Sniper blushed as Demo and Spy left the room. 

It was a habit now. Every couple of nights, one mercenary would prepare something to entertain his colleagues. It could be a movie, a game of whatever to play or watch all together, anything. They had put that in place in order to spend less dull evenings in that harsh winter. Being the only building for miles around in the blizzard meant that they were stuck for the entire winter there. 

Pyro and Scout finished washing the dishes while people slowly gathered in the training room. It had been turned into a second living room with seats and a TV screen, if one could forget the boxing ring and other sports accessories and installations. 

"Right, I think we're all here. Sniper, the lights, please?" 

Sniper nodded and flipped the switch before taking a seat at the back of course, given how tall he was. The main light turned off and Pyro switched on a spotlight. 

Silence fell for a moment and then, footsteps. Spy appeared, better dressed than usual, which Sniper thought was barely even possible. He was wearing a black tuxedo and black and white polished leather shoes. His eyes shone beautifully under the spotlight. 

Suddenly, a few piano notes. A second light switched on and showed Demo on the piano behind Spy. The latter propped himself up to sit on the piano and grabbed the nearby microphone to start singing as the piano carried his voice. 

{To the reader: the song is "Windmills of your mind" as sung by Noel Harrison}

"Round, like a circle in a spiral,

Like a wheel within a wheel,

Never ending or beginning

On an ever-spinning reel."

Sniper's eyes snapped wide. Spy was speaking more than he was singing and it was so pleasant to hear… His accent helped to make it more true somehow, more mellow.

The notes on the piano accompanied the Frenchman's voice beautifully, coming and going again, in an endless and cyclic arpeggio…

Spy was saying the words like he would declaim a poem, his voice ever so slightly flowing on the notes, the syllables stressed as they should be, the rhythm impeccably followed. His brow would furrow at times, and relax at others, and if at first he started with open eyes, by now, his eyes were shut and he was drinking the meaning of the words he was saying as if it was the air he needed to breathe.

Suddenly he elegantly dropped down from the piano and stood proud in front of his audience. He held the microphone a bit further from his lips and opened his arms, revealing a vest that Sniper had never seen him wear before. Black with satin cashmere motifs that glimmered under the spotlight...

"Keys that jingle in your pocket,

Words that jangle in your head."

Spy's voice was slightly more powerful, it was only a small difference in volume, but Sniper felt his ribcage and his knees tremble. He shook his head to shoo those feelings away and took a deep breath.

"Why did summer go so quickly?

Was it something that you said?

Lovers walk along the shore 

And leave their footprints in the sand. 

Is the sound of distant drumming

Just the fingers of your hand?

Pictures hanging in a hallway,

And the fragment of a song,

Half remembered names and faces,

But to whom do they belong?"

Spy opened his eyes and Sniper's snapped wide open. His long, dark eyelashes seemed different, were they wet? His light blue, almost grey irises were glistening…

"When I knew that it was over,

I was suddenly aware

That the autumn leaves were turning

To the color 

Of his hair."

Spy's keen eyes never left Sniper's half mesmerised and three quarters thrilled ones. The poor Aussie felt as if he was the only person in the audience to a concert that suddenly became very private. His heart was pumping fast, unlike Spy's rhythm which slowed down. He was back to whispering, a gloved hand on his heart, and said, much more slowly this time:

"The autumn leaves were turning 

To the colour

Of his hair."

Demo concluded with a few bars on the piano and then came to a halt. Spy nodded to him and new chords rolled in the air. The rhythm was a samba's, much more lively and light-hearted. Spy snapped his fingers in rhythm.

{To the reader: the song is "So Nice" I recommend the version by Sangah Noona}

"Someone to hold me tight,

That would be very nice,

Someone to love me right,

That would be very nice.

Someone to understand 

Each little dream in me,

Someone to take my hand,

To be a team with me.

So nice,

Life would be so nice, 

If one day I find

Someone who would take my hand and samba through life with me." 

Soldier started rocking left and right on his seat, dragging Engie with him. Medic joined them and Spy, seeing that his rhythmic song was dragging everyone in a good mood, started smiling. Not only did his lips purse up but his eyes were expressing genuine delight somehow. 

Sniper was smiling too, a dreamy grin as he rested his chin on his hand and his elbow on his armrest, slowly melting on his chair. 

"What the hell…." He mumbled to himself as he straightened his back on his chair and tried to resume a more normal posture.

The music accelerated as Medic dragged Heavy to swinging on his chair too. 

"Someone to cling to me

stay with me right or wrong,"

The Aussie couldn't believe it. Spy was dancing. The man with a sense of humor as big as a green pea was dancing. And God those hips! He was swinging them almost seductively and Sniper's heart skipped a beat… How come the Frenchman was so flexible with his hips?! 

Sniper opened the first button of his polo shirt as a sweat started breaking on his brow.

"Someone to sing to me

Some little samba song!

Someone to take my heart and give his heart to me,

Someone who's ready to give love a start with me!"

Spy winked at Sniper who blushed and looked left and right to see if it was for someone else.

"Oh yes, 

That would be so nice."

Sniper now breathed heavily, the room was hot, way too hot.

"Should it be you and me?

I could see it would be nice!"

He removed his hat and carded his hair, feeling some fresh air flow through it to cool down his scalp. Sniper was blushing way beyond his ears. He looked down for a second, as Demo improvised on the piano and when he raised his head up again, Spy had disappeared from the improvised stage. The rest of the mercenaries had stood up and were dancing to Demo playing. 

Sniper was panting. The image of Spy, his piercing eyes riveted on him, dancing slowly, swinging his hips was carved on his eyes as if it was marble. And that wink...

He shook his head again as he started to realise why he was sweating like that, why he had enjoyed every second of Spy staring at him even though he would never admit so...

A whistle caught his attention. 

Sniper turned his head. It had come from the door. He barely saw a silhouette slip away. Without thinking, he stood up and followed it. He pushed the door and exited the training room. The sound of the music and dancing was deafened by the closed door now and Sniper focused on knowing where that shadow went. 

The corridor was very dark. He reached for a switch but didn't flip it. Something told him that it was better that way. 

The whistle again. 

Sniper went to find its source but as he came to find it, he heard the base's main door shut. He went there and exited himself. 

The night was pitch dark and the wind was howling. Sniper looked around him and saw nothing. But he heard the slam of a metallic door that he instantly recognised. Whoever he was following, they had entered his van. Sniper followed suit and found himself inside in no time. 

It was pitch dark inside but there was a tiny orange glimmering light and the smell of a menthol cigarette soon found his nose.

"I see you enjoyed the show." The voice with the French accent said. 

The orange light came from the end of Spy's cigarette. 

"Yeah, well, it was pretty good."

"Good enough for you to follow a shadow all the way here…"

"Yeah, it was decent."

"...without this." Spy finished his sentence and Sniper felt something land on his head. His pupils shrank as he realised he had forgotten his very hat.

"Y-yeah well… I had to make sure it was one of us and not… an intruder or something."

Spy spotted the bad lie as he would an elephant in a porcelain shop.

"How would anyone come to the base through this blizzard? Even the Mann Co. supplies have stopped coming. The roads are blocked, airdrop is impossible. No intruders can come here, by no means."

"Y-you never know." Sniper answered. 

"Non, but you did." 

"What?" 

"You knew it was me you were following. You didn't know where I was going and why I kept whistling at you for you to follow me, but you did and here we are: in that ridiculous dwelling of yours that you dare call a home."

"Oi, my van's the perfect place." 

"For what?"

Sniper felt Spy get closer to him. They were face to face in the dark and Sniper saw Spy's eyes reflect the faint lights coming from the base.

"You tell me." Spy answered with a smirk that Sniper heard somehow. 

"What d'you want?" Sniper asked. 

"An honest answer." 

"What's your question?"

"Why do you think I chose those songs to sing to you?" 

Sniper felt hot as he was put on the spot. 

"What d'you mean?" 

"I sang for you, that, you have noticed. But why those songs in particular? What was their message?"

Sniper sighed. He moved to sit on his worn out couch. 

"I-I don't know, okay? And that's a lot of questions. J-just go and leave me here." 

Spy sat next to him. 

"Let me ask you something else then, how did you find my suit tonight?" 

Sniper's eyes snapped wide when he felt Spy's hand on his forearm. It soothed him as much as it made him anxious. 

"Elegant, beautiful, classy." 

"Thank you." Spy said with a smile. "I did try to make an effort."

"Y-yeah, I noticed." 

"Did you notice my mask?" 

"N-no, I mean… It's the same one as usual." 

"Not exactly." Spy answered. "Switch on the light, you will see it better."

Sniper stood up and flipped the switch. When he turned again to face the Frenchman, he choked on his saliva and coughed multiple times. He put a hand on his eyes and another on his chest to ease his cough while Spy chuckled. 

"Mon pauvre ami… I half apologise for this."

[My poor friend]

"Oh, Lord, Spook…" Sniper said between two fits of cough as he still hid his eyes behind his hand.

Spy giggled. 

"You did have your mask back there, right? I didn't just imagine it?"

"I did have it. I removed it as I entered your van. You may look if you want." 

"B-but, isn't that against your rules or something?"

"My rules?" Spy repeated, amused. 

"Yeah, I don't know, whatever rules or codes or whatever you Spooks have."

Spy chuckled. 

"There are no such things, Sniper. If I hide my face, it is because I would rather people not see me and recognise me. It is better that way." 

"Then why show me your face?" Sniper asked his hand still hiding his eyes to not see his friend.

"Because I am still a free man and I do what I want."

"And you want to show me your face?" 

"Why not?" 

"Spook, I swear… You're a whole new level of complicated."

Spy put his hand on Sniper's and pulled it away, slowly. Sniper couldn't help but stare. It seemed as though he was discovering a whole new person. It wasn't Spy, it was… well, someone else. 

"Do I have something on my face for you to stare like this?" Spy teased.

"Well," Sniper felt himself sweating again, "I'd say you're missin' something on your face, but eh, who am I to say?"

Spy chuckled. 

"Would you rather I put the mask back?" He cheekily asked. 

"No - I mean, if you're more comfy with it, put it on but…"

"But?" Spy pushed his luck. 

Sniper was staring at his hair. It was mostly black but there was a front grey tuft and the temples too betrayed Spy's age.

"But I-I don't know… Thanks, I guess." 

"For what?" Spy asked. 

"For feeling like you can show me your face. I guess that means you think you can trust me - oh."

Spy had taken Sniper's hand off his face but he wasn't letting go of it. Non, instead he laced his fingers through it. 

"And now?" Spy asked. 

"And now what?" 

"Now, do you know why I chose to sing these songs for you?" 

Sniper blushed. 

"I-I don't know… I'm not sure. Can't you just say it? It'd be a lot easier for the both of us!"

"For you, oui, for me however, it would be quite difficult." 

Sniper rolled his eyes. 

"How hard can it be?" He asked. 

"Almost as hard as what I'm about to do is foolish…" Spy closed the gap between the two of them and pushed his lips against Sniper's. 

Sniper froze. His muscles froze, his blood froze, his heart stopped sharp, like a watch stops at the time of death, Sniper's body burst alive all at once. His hands flew forward to hold Spy closer, his eyes rolled and closed, and his eyebrows slowly rose and relaxed. Spy's naked hands slid up to Sniper's cheeks and he stayed there, hanging from Sniper's lips with his own.

Eventually, they broke the kiss. 

"Woah… Spook, I didn't know you, uh…"

Spy raised his light blue, almost grey eyes to Sniper.

"Did you even realise that you held those feelings for me too?" 

"M-maybe." 

"Sniper…?" 

"Right, yeah, I realised it when you sang today. I-I just felt weird and I knew…"

Spy smiled sweetly, as he brushed Sniper's cheek with his long and slim fingers. 

"I'm glad you feel the same." Spy said. 

"As if you were surprised… You look gorgeous with that suit on and now, without the mask, you're just…" Sniper's eyes darted to every detail of Spy's face. 

He bit his lip and suddenly pulled Spy's head to him again. He kissed Spy with such force and passion that Spy lost his legs. Thank God he was sitting down and Sniper was holding him, or he would have flowed down to the floor like a liquid. 

[vannahfanfics]

Sorry to hear your plans got messed up, so here's a Gruvia prompt to cheer you up: snow angel.

Thank you for your patience! TT.TT I can’t believe it took me so long to get to this, but, I am slogging through old requests, little by little! I hope you enjoy this wee little Gruvia fluff :3

Snow Fairies

The cold wind whirled snow flurries around Juvia's barely-clothed form as she stood stoically amongst the rising drifts, eyes closed and poised with concentration. She inhaled deeply and felt the cold oxygen tickling her nasal passages and throat. Slowly, her blue lashes parted to reveal equally sapphirine eyes beneath, and she gazed at the swirling, snowy mountain landscape before her. 

Suddenly, with a loud huff, she thrust out her fist. Snowflakes exploded against her curled knuckles, parting the world only with a cold kiss. She flung her left leg through the snowbank to send tufts of the thick, powdery stuff hurling through the air. She whirled on her other foot, crunching the permafrost layer under the sole of her boots, and the toes of her left foot skimmed the surface of the snowdrift to leave behind a thin line. With another shout, she punched the air again, driving back the invisible foes skulking in the light blizzard. Her blue skirt flapped against her thighs, and the skin between the long slits shone like the pale moon, but Juvia was not cold in the slightest. Sweat bubbled over her body, bringing with it the warmth of exhilaration. 

Juvia exhaled jubilantly, and the breath fogged before her face. Her muscles burned satisfyingly with the exertion, and in her revelry, she even deigned to flex her biceps a bit. She snickered with glee at the sizeable, rock-hard bulge that jumped up. 

"Your training is proving fruitful, I see." Juvia whirled around to see Gray, in nothing but his black boxers, tromping through the snowdrift toward her. Though she had been living with him in the mountain cabin for several months and thus was quite used to seeing him near-naked, the sight of his chiseled abs glinting in the frost and his toned thighs rippling with every stride never failed to set her heart to beating. Crooning, she slapped her hands to her cheeks and wiggled about. 

"Gray is too kind to Juvia~ There is still much more training to be had!" 

"You have grown stronger, though," he smirked and raked his eyes over her body. His stormy-dark irises traveling the length of her curves set her cheeks ablaze, and they bloomed like carnations in the backdrop of bleak white and gray. When he realized just how suggestive the gesture was, he flushed and looked away with a grumble. Juvia danced about, throwing her hips from side to side in pure elation. 

"Thank you, Gray! Juvia is delighted to earn such compliments!" She then grinned widely and proudly balled her fists. "Juvia will work very hard until the days comes that Fairy Tail is revived." 

"Glad to hear it," the ice mage smiled admiringly at her. Juvia's brazen determination vanished like a wisp of smoke in the gale, and she went back to cooing and wriggling. Gray snorted in laughter and tromped a few paces toward the modest wooden cabin they shared. "The sun will be setting soon…" 

Juvia cast a gaze up at the sky to see that he was right. Through the ever-present blanket of thick gray clouds smothering the heavens, bits of sapphire sky poked through; the first of the night's stars had blinked into existence, and twinkled playfully behind the veil of wispy clouds. The fluffy forms glowed bright yellow where the sun hid behind, gradually making its descent towards the horizon. Very little of its golden light forced its way through the barrier, but what did fell upon the world in striking spears of light. The pattern they created upon the snow was not unlike the marbling of light and shadow found on the lush forest floor. Those sunbeams were growing thinner by the second, blipping out of existence one by one. "We should get inside and get a fire going," Gray suggested while stretching one of his arms behind his head. 

"But Juvia wishes to stay out a little longer!" she protested. Gray cast a stern look over his shoulder. 

"Juvia, you need to be careful not to overexert yourself." He then smiled kindly. "I understand your desire to grow as strong as possible, and you will." Juvia flushed and shyly rocked her shoulders back and forth. 

"Juvia appreciates Gray's concern…" At her apparent docility, Gray turned back to the cabin to begin mumbling about the firewood stores. Slyly, Juvia leaned down to gather a sizeable amount of the snow and pack it into a snowball. Careful not to make any undue noise, she straightened up, the loose powder slipping through her fingers to rain back down to its source below. "Juvia appreciates the concern but is just fine, thank you!" She hollered and lobbed the snowball at him. She squealed with glee as it exploded like a firework against the back of his head, coating his dark blue hair in the fine powder. 

"Hey! Juvia!" he yelped and clawed at the coldness spreading over his bare back. Juvia giggled and scampered away from him, but not fast enough. She howled as a snowball crashed right into her bottom, staining a wet spot into the blue fabric of her skirt. With a dour look, she brushed the snow away and shot him a glare. 

"How vulgar, aiming for Juvia's butt!"

"I didn't aim for it!" He protested with a cocky smirk and hurled another snowball at her. This time she managed to duck and hurriedly lunged down to scoop up more of the snow. "Too slow!" Juvia squealed as he tackled her, wrapping his arms around her waist and flinging her down into the snow. She writhed in the cold, icy substance, chuckles bubbling out of her chest as she grabbed a handful of the slush to slap it against his cheek. "Agh!" He whined as some of it got into his mouth, and he spat half-melted snow out of his mouth. "Gross!" 

"Hehehe, Gray should be more considerate of his karma- Eek!" In retaliation, he shoved a whole pile of the snow onto her face. She sat up, spitting snowflakes from her lips and blinking furiously in the cold. "Not funnyyyy!" She whined and wiped the thick powder from her face. 

"You should be more considerate of your karma," he teased. They both giggled, and Juvia began to slide her arms and legs in wide arcs through the snow. 

"Look, Gray! Juvia is making a snow angel."

"Indeed," he mused and watched her playful ministrations. Once her motions had dug the likeness of an angel into the snow, Juvia relaxed with a contented sigh. Juvia's blue locks weaved into the snow as she flopped her head back. The drift embraced her like a pillow, molding around her head. Gray's hands dug into the drift on either side of her shoulders, and his knees snugly hugged her hips. His positioning brought a bright blush to her already cold-flushed cheeks. "Juvia?" He blinked when he noticed the odd expression on her face. 

"Juvia is just so grateful that Gray allows her to stay with him…" she whispered. She was grateful. Juvia had no other place to go other than Fairy Tail. It had become her beloved home. However, her home was no more. Gray could have very easily cast her aside to train by himself for a year, but not only did he trust her enough with his innermost feelings and frustrations, he absolved to make a temporary home with Juvia. The tears that sprang from her eyes froze on her cheeks. "Just so grateful," she repeated hoarsely. 

"Hey," he smiled gently and brushed his knuckles over her cheek, "don't go cryin' on me." She sniffed and obediently attempted to halt the flow of tears. He studied her face for a moment before his gaze gradually traveled down to her lips. Juvia felt her heart thump against her ribcage. "... I couldn't do it, be up here all alone. I need you with me, Juvia. You remind me that there's a place to go back to." 

Juvia released a little squeak and clapped a hand to her mouth, ignoring the clinging particles of snow. Gray had never looked at her the way he was looking at her right then, with eyes burning with affection. Gently, he pried her fingers away from her mouth and settled her hand beside her head, on a blanket of her curling blue hair. "Juvia?" He asked, his voice but a whisper. She nodded meekly to indicate that she was listening. "Promise that I can always come back to you." 

Juvia blinked. Then she smiled lovingly. 

"Of course. Juvia will always be waiting to welcome Gray with open arms. Like a snow angel!" she cried and extended her arms again. He snorted in laughter and nodded. 

"Yeah. That sounds about right." With a long sigh, he sat himself up into a squat before extending himself up. He then pulled Juvia to her feet. Snow rained from their bodies like stardust from comets. As Juvia was brushing the powder from her arms, Gray's suddenly wound around her waist, and he pushed his head into the crook of her neck. Her nerves tingled as his warm breath puffed over her pulse point. "Sorry, I just… Sometimes I need to be reminded of home." Juvia's shocked expression softened, and she embraced him sweetly. 

"Of course. Don't worry, Gray. We will return home together one day." 

The cold wind whirled snow flurries around their barely-clad forms, and with a small smile, Juvia fancied they were snow fairies prancing on the air streams.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

 Tag List: @deliathedork @searchfortheonepiece

[joonsdiary]

worth fighting for (01)

pairing: jungkook x reader genre/warning: humour, fluff, angst / royalty au, historical au / tw: mentions of blood and wounds, mentions of war, battles, etc. word count: 4,467

summary: fresh out of the perils of war, jungkook didn’t think that his task as the newly appointed general would be to look after you.

                                                                           ONE.

Jungkook knows nothing else but the sound of clashing swords and the smell of putrid blood that would soon follow after. Every siege is important, his father would remind him, and so it means that he and his men have to be in perfect condition. Mistakes are not forgiven and often result in untimely deaths, and so it had been Jungkook’s task as the captain to make sure his men were always ready.

“Victory, and therefore freedom, is within our grasp. We cannot lose focus now,” the General lectures while looking intently at each captain in the eye. The candle flickers at the slight whisper of the winds and Jungkook squints in order to make out what kind of face the general is making. “We leave at dawn, no later than that or else we lose the element of surprise. You’re all dismissed.”

Everybody salutes and bows, including Jungkook, before they all file out of the makeshift tent one by one. They are all worn out and hardened by the battles they have fought, but the determination in their eyes tells a different story. Freedom is one hell of a motivation that will make anyone forget that they have been at this for months with no end seemingly in sight. Progress is key and the General makes sure that the men still have the means to fight and the willingness to survive despite the deaths of their comrades they often witnessed.

“Jungkook, a word,” he halts at the general’s words and turns to face him. He notices the general’s demeanour softens as he approaches him so Jungkook does the same, relaxing his shoulders. “About your brother, I…”

Jungkook tenses, the armour he’s wearing feeling heavy like the weight of a thousand burning suns. His mind reels to the memory of his brother’s bloodied face, expression blank yet it seems like he saw right through his soul the moment he locked his gaze into his eyes. Jungkook refuses to believe that the creature he saw that night was, in fact, his brother. It simply couldn’t be; his brother was always bright and full of energy, but serious when he needed to be. He had the ability to juggle personalities between friend and captain; everybody knew that they could talk to him about anything. Jungkook terribly misses his brother.

Tears threaten to fall but he merely blinks it away; he could not afford to look weak in front of the General, even if they are talking about his brother.

“I’ve already sent a letter to your mother. She won’t take it well, but she’ll be glad we still have you,” the general smiles woefully, a gesture that pierces right through Jungkook’s heart. He knows that his older brother was a much more skilled fighter than him, a much better swordsman, a much better leader, a much better son.

“I’m sorry father,” Jungkook whispers and looks down in disdain, “for not being able to protect him.”

“You fool,” his father admonishes before laughing in a way that makes Jungkook think it’s forced—a front he puts up in order to hide the disappointment and sadness that came with the heartbreak of losing one’s child. “Your brother fought with dignity, and I know he fought hard. You might not have been there at the moment of his untimely demise, but do not for one second think that it was your fault.”

“But—”

“You can not possibly hope to imagine that you’ll be able to save everyone’s lives, Jungkook. Your brother’s death, the deaths of the men you train to fight with you in the battlefield—we have to make sure they don’t go to waste.”

If there is one thing his father is good at, it is turning feelings of sorrow into motivation. Jungkook thinks this is one way he copes with the lives lost of the ones he cherishes; he has been in this far longer than Jungkook has, so surely, he has also lost more people than Jungkook could even begin to think.

His father clasps him on the shoulder before giving him a curt nod. Jungkook mimics him, determination steeled in his eyes.

//

Jungkook learns the hard way that the enemy always thinks five steps ahead, as evident by the ambush they currently find themselves in. Despite being told by his father, the General, that they would be the ones attacking out of nowhere, it seems that the enemy had anticipated all of it. He searches his mind for any idea on how to get out of the situation as he presses a clean cloth on the wounded man who cries out in pain.

“What are we going to do, captain?” someone crawls to him hurriedly, afraid that if he lifts even an inch of his body that he would be spotted and shot to death with an arrow.

“How many men do we have left?” he questions as calmly as he can, knotting the cloth into a makeshift bandage. The man beneath him murmurs a disgruntled thanks. Jungkook wipes the sweat trickling down between his brow and sighs deeply, waiting for even just one good news.

“Not enough to fight and come out of here alive, for sure,” Jungkook’s shoulder slumps even more as the young man drones on, rambling about the fact that perhaps he should have just been an apothecary instead of signing up for the war. Maybe then he would live long enough to see his children have their offspring.

“Look, I mean no disrespect,” Jungkook grabs the young man’s collar in frustration, his fists clenching in a way that makes it hard for the other to breathe. “But if you’re not going to come up with a solution to help us win this battle, then might I suggest that you shut the fuck up. Or leave. Let’s see if you don’t get shot by a blizzard of arrows the moment you come into their view.”

The young man nods and says nothing further. The winds howl dreadfully as Jungkook sighs, closing his eyes before leaning against the loamy trench they hurriedly dug in order to avoid the further onslaught.

“Have you sent the letter to request more men?” Jungkook asks optimistically but his hope falters when he sees the man grimace, so he prepares his mind for the worse.

“We did, but I don’t suggest relying on that since we aren’t sure it’s going to get there safely. We did send out two messengers just in case.”

He is right, Jungkook thinks; they have no time to depend on backup coming since they might all get killed if he doesn’t act now.

“How long has it been since they’ve stopped firing arrows at us?”

“Ever since the sun had set, captain.”

“That must mean they’re also getting tired,” Jungkook states the obvious and the man nods in agreement, unsure of where Jungkook is taking the conversation. “Your name’s Han, isn’t it?”

Han nods, bewildered that his captain remembers his name out of all the hundreds of soldiers under his wing. Given that he did cause a bit of trouble during their training, he likes to think that the particular incident is not the reason why he knows his name.

“Wasn’t it you that was convinced that one of the soldiers-in-training was a woman?” Jungkook musters a chuckle and Han mentally slaps himself, trying to laugh along with his captain despite being embarrassed about the memory.

“Definitely goes on my top three list of ‘Foolish Things Han Has Done’,” he declares awkwardly and Jungkook merely pats him on the shoulder.

“What are the other two?” Jungkook inquires but Han shakes his head, assuring his captain that it will just be a waste of time if he tells him. Jungkook agrees and shifts the mood, becoming serious once more. “We still have the pull-cart full of explosives exported from the West, no?”

Han pauses before nodding furiously, afraid to ask why he’s inquired of the explosives. They had been tasked by the general to only use it in dire times and to not waste them, but he guesses that now’s as good as any time.

“Go and gather our remaining men,” Jungkook instructs, “I have a plan.”

//

He doesn’t mean to brag, but Jungkook thought of himself as a genius. If all goes well and they come out of this peril alive, then he doesn’t mind being heralded as the country’s hero.

But that is all still an astronomical if, of course.

“We surrender!” Jungkook cries out, standing not too far from the trenches they were in previously. His hands are up in the air holding a white cloth, waving frantically in hopes that they see it and will not shoot their arrows at him. Other remaining soldiers stood with him, an air of defeat around them. Jungkook could not see from afar due to the lack of light so he trusts that their opponents would not misunderstand. If they did, then he would have surrendered for nothing.

“We don’t have enough men and what’s more, we are out of food! We cannot possibly survive no more than two days, so we’re surrendering in hopes that you’d take us as prisoners of war rather than face death.” Jungkook speaks confidently, not letting a wrinkle of nervousness or worry show; he knows that this is what he’s trained all his life for.

“How do we know you’re not up to some sort of jest?” A voice bellows from afar, asking a question Jungkook had expected them to inquire. He smirks but doesn’t let his excitement show. Even though the enemies are nowhere in sight, he knows better than to celebrate a victory too early.

“We’re sending you all of our arrows, swords…all of our weapons,” he motions at a horse-drawn wagon, which is dubiously covered with layers and layers of dark clothing. One of the soldiers pats the horse, signalling the animal that it should start running in the other direction.

“Are we sure that it’s going to where their explosives are? We can’t make a mistake about this,” Jungkook whispers to Han who stands idly beside him, slightly shivering while his hands are also up in the air. They both watch as the horse disappears from sight, masked by the morning fog that coated the entire area.

A shiver runs down Han’s spine as he answers his captain with a nod, “One of the men you patched up earlier said that he saw flashing lights from that area, so there’s a high chance.”

“In that case, signal for our men to take cover in 3, 2…”  

Han screams on top of his lungs and as soon as he does, the soldiers run for the trenches in sheer panic. It doesn’t take Jungkook’s body to react and he’s soon taking cover beside Han who is cowering in fear, visibly shaking as he covers his ears. It’s silent for a while and shivers run down Jungkook’s spine as he expects the worst.

“Captain, the explosives…it’s not going off,” Han breaks the silence with a loud whisper and Jungkook curses under his breath. This is supposed to be their only plan—if it turns out that the explosives didn’t work, he doesn’t have any other option left but to actually surrender to avoid getting killed. Still, Jungkook refuses to admit defeat.

“Impossible. I lit the damn thing myself—” Jungkook begins but he’s cut off by a loud bang, followed by the apparent shaking of the ground, as if the earth is splitting in two and is going to swallow all of them whole. Jungkook attempts to cover his ears at the last minute in hopes that he doesn’t break them by being so close to the blast. He doesn’t feel the heat of the explosion, but he could hear the wails of several men who are on the receiving end of it. Jungkook doesn’t mourn for the lives lost, since he still thinks about the same men who’d killed his brothers and hundreds of others who he’d seen die. He’d rather weep for the horse he had to sacrifice to get the explosive on the other side than to mourn the death of those who’d attacked their country, burned down their cities, ravaged their women and killed their children.

Debris flies out as another explosion hits, and Jungkook could hear some of his men cheering on what seems to be their victory, though he knows that some could have survived and been on their way to attack.

“Stay alert, men!” Jungkook shouts amidst the chaos and cheers. He peers from the trenches and sure enough, there are those staggering their way out of the line of fire, clutching the injured parts of their bodies. Others appear to have their skins burned off and yet they still look like they’re up for a fight, dragging their longswords while tracing various patterns on the dirt.

Jungkook picks up his weapon from the ground and jumps out of the trench once more. He no longer wants to fight, exhausted by days without sleep yet he convinced himself that this was the key to the end; their enemies have dwindled thanks to his ingenious plan and he knows they don’t have enough men to mount another attack. Therefore, they can take back the lands that have been stolen from them by force and by violence.

“For Hoseok,” he mumbles to himself before swinging his sword and taking aim at the enemy’s head.

* * *

You slowly tiptoe out of your room, the hem of your dress carefully bunched up and held around your thighs which would enable you to run fast, if need be. Your eyes carefully scan the long, dark hallways of the palace, which is surprisingly empty. It seems like your plan to get rid of the guards and distract the maids worked because they are all currently nowhere to be found. You quickly hurry along the wooden floors, not caring if the coldness of the floors makes your feet numb—wearing shoes that could let someone know you’re coming isn’t the best idea when sneaking out, so you have chosen to leave them behind your sleeping quarters.

It’s not like you are completely barred from leaving your room, that isn’t the case at all, but your desire to go horse riding in the middle of the night while the rest of the palace sleeps does not sit well with your chambermaids and other palace guards.

You have always been reminded by Miyoung, one of the chambermaids you are most familiar with, that the country had been fresh off fighting a war and enemies could still lurk beneath the shadows. You were defiant in stating that several moons had passed since your country has won, and there is no need to worry any further but she insists, not wanting to get in trouble with the King and Queen if they find out that you have snuck out once again.

That did not stop you, of course. Everyone in the palace is familiar with your strong-headed nature, your unbending will, and how stubborn you get when things don’t go your way. Yet no matter how much you begged Miyoung earlier during the day, she was unrelenting, stating that she fears the repercussions of the court lady rather than you, the actual princess.

You shudder at the thought of getting caught by the head court lady, Siyeon. You have been fortunate enough to not be on the receiving end of her lectures and punishments, but you’ve heard constant horror stories from your chambermaids and other ladies-in-waiting. She even had the gall to lecture your cousin when she visited a month ago—clearly, she did not care about one’s status when she knew they'd done something wrong.

Fortunately for you, there is a new stable boy that was easily tricked, so getting him to distract some of the household staff while you scamper out of your room was no sweat. You enjoy the thrill of running free along the dim corridors illuminated by the bright moon slipping past the tall windowpane. Though it’s dim, you prepare yourself for the turn coming up at the end of the long hall.

You are about to make a hard left when someone pulls you strongly by the arm, dragging you in the opposite direction you had intended to go. You yelp in surprise so the perpetrator’s hand clasps at your mouth in an attempt to silence your scream. A shiver ran down your spine as a long list of possible suspects runs through your mind. Despite being attacked and being in a precarious position, you know well enough that this is not how it’s going to end for you.

You are quick to react as you twist back the arm that was clutching your mouth, using that to flip the man on his back in one swift movement, not letting him react or defend himself. Your eyes widen in surprise when your eyes meet those of the terrified stable boy, clutching his head as he groans in displeasure.

“Oh by gods, Jimin, I’m so sorry. I thought—I thought…” you trail off, rushing over to help him up to his feet. The daffodil-haired boy assures you that he’s okay despite clearly being in pain.

“We can stop by in the kitchen to get some ice. I don’t think the palace physician is available at this hour,” you murmur as you brush imaginary lint off his shoulders, a gesture of remorse on your part. “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s my fault for sneaking up on you like that, Your Highness,” he grins in good nature but it doesn’t reassure you. “I saw some guards in that direction just now, so I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to sneak out that way.”

You follow his lead, trusting the judgement of someone who’s been working for your family for less than three months. The palace is almost labyrinth-like in layout but that didn’t matter to Jimin, who mentions that he is good at memorizing when you question how he knows his way around so quickly. You hold on to the hem of his white chemise in hopes of keeping up with his long strides but also to signal to him that it is becoming harder for you to walk barefoot. Jimin notices this and makes sure to fetch you a pair of casual slip-ons, that most likely belongs to a maid before you two make your way outside. You didn’t mind this due to how excited you feel being outdoors after the sun has set.

“It’s been a while,” you breathe in the late summer air, bringing your hands around yourself as you continue to follow Jimin to the stables. He looks back at you and smiles, eyes forming into the crescent shapes you’re only beginning to get used to.

“I’m also glad that things are slowly starting to get back to normal again. I was out there in the front-lines during the war and…” Jimin trails off, his gaze cast somewhere far away. You place your hand gently on his shoulder in an attempt to console him. The war had been over for a while but the effect it had on Jimin is still noticeable in the way his eyes gleamed with horror.

“You may not have been the one given the Medallion of Valour or promoted as part of the king’s guard for your service,” you regard Jimin seriously, “and this might not mean much since it’s coming from me and not the king himself, but I appreciate the service you’ve given for this country, and what you might have had to sacrifice because of it.”

Jimin’s cheeks begin to mimic the colour of rubies but not because of your words but rather he had noticed how close you had been to him this whole time. He tries, for the sake of being polite, to look you in the eyes rather than to watch the way your lips are moving.

“I personally would promote you to become the general instead,” you smile up to him, hoping that it’s enough to make him feel better, even though you know well enough that nothing could ever measure up to the horror of being in an actual battlefield, forced to watch the people around you die. Jimin blinks and clears his throat, laughing away the embarrassment he feels of having to be consoled by the princess herself.

“You spoil me with your sentiments too much, Your Highness,” Jimin smiles and continues the long trek to the stables, keeping you at a good distance while trying to be on the lookout in case you two get caught. “What Captain Jungkook, I mean, General Jeon has done for this country is insurmountable, surely he deserves it more than I do.”

You scoff at his words as you roll your eyes.

“That pompous prick? I’m sure he only got that because his father was the general.”

“You speak as if you two are well acquainted with each other,” Jimin muses and gives you a playful look, which you dismiss. “I’ve heard rumours—”

“Well that’s what they all are…baseless rumours,” you mumble, immediately cutting his words off before he could say something further. You quickly ran your fingers through your short, ebony locks and as you ignored Jimin’s mischievous glances.

“It’s been a while since I’ve paid the horses a visit,” you began, hopeful that it will steer Jimin’s attention away from speaking about Jungkook.

“They’ve terribly missed you, Your Grace,” Jimin says sarcastically and you punch his arm, threatening to flip over once again if he doesn’t quit with the teasing. He holds his hands up but doesn’t voice his defeat, opting to laugh instead as he leads you to where the horses are.

Excitement bubbles up your stomach as you run past several stables before arriving at your favourite one, a white mare with whom you’ve grown accustomed over the years. No matter how much everyone says that she’s a stubborn horse unable to be trained, you never give up on pouring all your attention to her and always making sure she’s well-groomed and fed. In fact, you had gotten in trouble recently with the Queen for bathing the horse yourself, telling you that there’s a reason why they hired people to look after them.

“She hasn’t been eating particularly well,” Jimin watches in awe as you brush the animal carefully.

“Has anyone taken her for a stroll yet?” You glance at Jimin for an answer and he shakes his head vehemently.

“She always makes a fuss when we try to take her outside, so we gave up trying overall,” Jimin sighs defeatedly and stands behind you before reaching for the mare, who turned him away. You giggle and soothe the horse who nuzzles your palm.

“You’re not so fond of Jimin, are you, Luna?” you ask and the horse neighs, which makes you double back in laughter.

“You see my dilemma?” Jimin whines, trying to reach for the horse’s nose but gets turned away every time.

Opening the stable door, you carefully guide Luna out of her confines which Jimin doesn’t exactly approve of.

“This is not what we talked about, Your Highness,” Jimin panics as you get on the horse without any saddle, swinging your leg over which makes your white chemise dress roll up, exposing your thighs. This doesn’t escape Jimin as he averts his gaze from your alluring posture.

“It’s just going to be a quick trip around the area. I promise you she’ll get back to eating properly after this,” you gently tap Luna with your heels and she starts trotting out of the barn. Jimin calls out for you, asking if he should come along. You shake your head and tell him to wait in the barn in case someone comes in to look for you. Jimin is left with no choice but to follow your instruction and stay behind.

“The king is going to get me beheaded,” Jimin mumbles to himself as he watches the horse take you far away into the night.

You gently grasp the rope around Luna as you gently ease her around the sparsely wooded area just behind the castle. You thank the heavens for the full moon as it brightens that path you navigate around without fearing that you were going to bump into something and fall off the horse. Though you didn’t mind if it did happen, because there would be no ladies-in-waiting or palace guards to witness your misfortune.

As your thoughts of freedom run wild, Luna leads you both to a small clearing, making a beeline for the pond located in the middle of the secluded area which is hidden by trees around it. You signal for her to stop before you carefully get off, guiding her towards the water. It takes a few words of encouragement before she has the initiative to sip water, and it’s not long after that she’s continuously drinking, quenching the thirst she’s seemed to have built up. You gently brush her beck and her tail waggles as she moves back to munch on the grass at the edge of the pond.

“Finally,” you whisper into the air as you sigh with relief while watching Luna feast on the foliage. “I was probably a stable master in my previous life—or a horse whisperer.”

You chuckle to yourself at your joke, regretful that no one is present to bear witness to how miraculous it is that you managed to feed Luna without much protest from her. In your mind Jimin would make a fuss, stating that being a stable master does not equate to being a horse whisperer if such things are real in the first place.

The sounds of the night do not terrify you, but your ears do perk up when you hear the rustling of leaves and you turn your attention away from Luna momentarily. Your brows furrowed in confusion when you see that no one else is present, and conclude that it might just be the wind.

“You do know that I could kill you right here, right now if I wanted to, and no one would know. All it would take is one fling of an arrow.”

A voice greets from behind you and you feel the hairs on your skin stand upright, either due to fear or from the coldness—or possibly both. The tension in the air thickens and you find it harder to breathe every second as your heart hammers wildly against your chest, feeling foolish for not letting Jimin tag along. The intentions of the stranger are made clear when they begin to make their way towards you, grass squelching beneath their boots.

You hold your breath, too terrified to turn around.

— prev ; next ; series masterlist

[moccahobi]

Snowed In [Jimin x Reader]

Warnings: None really

Summery: Instead of going to a family dinner, Jimin and you get snowed in.

Word Count: 749 words

Genre: Tooth rotting fluff; no real au

Author’s Note: Happy December @spicykoreantatertots​!! As you know (because I fluffed up my second messaged to you and exposed who I was) I am Peppermint! I really hope you like this! I was v busy this month but I feel as if I managed to pull through in the end! You are such a wonderful person!

The howling of wind woke you up from your nap with a fright. It seemed to shake your whole apartment but you didn’t mind. You were safe in your boyfriend's embrace. You barely moved from where you laid in your boyfriend’s arms, his warmth magnified from the blankets pulled tightly over the two of you. A heavy breath left before you looked up at your boyfriend’s peaceful face. He was so handsome and once again you were left wondering how you were able to get such an amazing boyfriend such as Jimin. You asked first (the boy was too shy to ask but seemed really happy when you did ask) and here you were: a year and a half later. Slowly and carefully, you untangled your legs and turned around to look outside. Instead of seeing Soeul and its constant movement you were faced with a wall of white. The more you looked at it, you saw the snow swirl and thrash around in the harsh wind. 

Dread filled you when you saw such severe snow from your tenth story apartment window. Jimin and you started napping to a cloudy sky and the promise of a light dusting and now you had what seemed to be a full-on blizzard. You gently shook Jimin’s shoulder, your eyes still trained on the snow outside. Who knew how long you two had slept and who knew if you would even be able to make it out of your apartment with how bad the snow was. 

“Jajia, we are not going outside in that weather. Your family will understand.” Jimin whispered, pulling you in closer. You nodded and closed your eyes, relaxing more into Jimin’s warm and solid embrace. You started to drift in and out of a dream state, one-second fighting dragons and the next cradled safely in Jimin’s arms. It must have been at least an hour later that Jimin gently shook you to wake up with the promise of food. You huffed, missing the warmth of Jimin as he got up but you quickly followed behind him, one of the three extra blankets you slept with wrapped tightly around you. 

“Jimin-ah, I don’t think if I can help you make breakfast. I am far too tired.” You said when the two of you made it to the kitchen. 

Jimin laughed, “I figured, Jajia.” He gently wrapped his arms around your blanketed body, softly humming a small tune as the two of you swayed. Five or so minutes must have passed with the two of you hugging, the only sound being Jimin’s gentle hugging. Sooner than you would have liked, Jimin moved away from you to make food, leaving you to stand in the entryway. It was then that you saw the time: Seven PM. 

Jimin and you had slept through most of the day.

As quickly as possible, you messaged your parents an apology for not making it to dinner before you found yourself staring at Jimin again. How in the world did you get blessed with such an amazing boyfriend? You had no idea.

“Jimin-ah?” You said, stopping to make sure Jimin was listening, “You such a wonderful person. Thank you.” 

Jimin laughed lightly as a light blush rose on his neck, “What spurred on that thought?” 

“I am just struck by how much I love you.” You said with a shy smile yourself. It didn’t go over your head that this was the first time either of you had used the word love but it just felt right.

Jimin hummed, slowly putting the knife he was using down before turning to you with a large smile on his face, “What was that? I didn’t hear you.”

“I was just thinking about how much I love you.” You said with a laugh, Jimin’s own smile spreading further than you thought was possible as he started walking towards you.

“I love you too, Y/n-ah.” He said quietly as he engulfed you in a hug, “I love you so much that you may never fully know just how much I love you.”

You giggled lightly, “Really? If I was a fly, I’d love you to pluto and back.” You said, punctuating your words with a small peck on Jimin’s lips as you moved to hug him tightly. 

“Yeah? Well if I was a fly…” Jimin laughed and pecked you on the lips, “I love you, Y/n-ah.” You smiled and laughed with a nod. You could get used to this. 

[kaimerala]

A Very Red Dead Christmas

Merry Christmas @spursthatgojinglejangle from your @rdrsecretsanta! I hope your holidays are as fun as a night on the town with the Van Der Linde gang! Just don’t get arrested ;)

I got a bit carried away with your request, but who can resist Arthur being a big softie around cute animals? Hope you like it!

 Friends in cold places

Summary: After Arthur is sent on a mission to find a Christmas tree for the gang, he gets caught out in a blizzard in Tall Trees. He finds shelter in an abandoned cabin, where he befriends another lost soul.

Word count 7k+

-

“You want me to do what?”

Arthur had been enjoying a quiet afternoon on watch duty before Dutch appeared. The leader of the Van Der Linde gang glowed with excitement at his latest brilliant idea.

“I want you to get us a Christmas tree!” Dutch repeated.

“Two days ago you told me to beat up a man for money,” Arthur said after a drag on his cigarette, “and today you want me to get you a fancy tree?”

“It’s for your family, son,” Dutch said, stars in his eyes. “What better way to boost morale than to get a real Christmas tree and decorate it?”

Arthur chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” Dutch asked.

“I know I don’t have no choice in the matter.”

“Oh come on, Arthur! Think of what it would mean to young Jack.”

Arthur rolled the cigarette between his fingers, not meeting Dutch’s gaze. Sure, Jack was a good kid, but was his happiness worth the wolves and frostbite?

“Dutch, we just spent a year in the goddamn Grizzlies. Plenty of Christmas trees there. You sure there’s nothin’ else you need me to do? Nothin’ more… important?”

Dutch removed a cigar from one of the pockets on his vest. Arthur struck a match for him. “You can take one of them O’Driscoll horses we acquired last week,” Dutch said through a cloud of smoke. “That chestnut one is bigger than Alfred MacAlister’s ego. He could be a decent pack horse.”

“Hmf. As long as he doesn’t annoy Boadicea.”

Arthur sighed in resignation. Dutch would not be dissuaded.

“Fine. I’ll go tomorrow. If I don’t come back, remember you was the one who sent me to the mountains in the middle of winter for a tree.”

Dutch smiled victoriously. “That’s the spirit, son! The Christmas spirit!”

His task accomplished, Dutch turned and walked back to camp, leaving Arthur alone with his thoughts and a cigarette stub.

The Van Der Linde gang had just settled in West Elizabeth, next to the Upper Montana River. They were less than an hour’s ride from Blackwater, their camp well-hidden in a grove of trees. The climate was milder in the south, but Arthur missed the solitude of the mountains. With no lawmen willing to follow their trail, the gang had enjoyed a freedom they had not tasted for years. But Dutch had big plans for Blackwater.

Charles appeared at dusk to swap shifts. The newcomer had already proven himself as a deadly gunman and brawler, but he never raised his voice or drank to excess. He possessed a quiet strength that Arthur admired.

“Dutch said you’re heading out tomorrow,” said Charles. His eyes were fixed ahead, on the plains of West Elizabeth rolling before them. “He mentioned something about Tall Trees.”

“Yeah. Not my first choice this time of year,” Arthur replied. “I take it the whole gang knows I’m on a very important mission to get a Christmas tree?”

“Dutch couldn’t contain himself. Everyone knows except for Jack and Abigail; he wants it to be a surprise for them.”

Arthur smiled and shook his head.

“Sounds about right. See ya later.”

Arthur shouldered his rifle and followed Charles’s footprints back to camp. Even now he still looked for Copper, but no-one ran up to greet him. He missed having a dog around.

The camp was nearly empty: most of the Van Der Linde gang were out scouting for opportunities or having fun in Blackwater and Strawberry. The soft glow of a kerosene lantern inside Dutch’s tent indicated that he was sharing a private evening with Molly. Abigail and Jack were in their tent too, already asleep. Pearson and Susan were standing together a short distance from camp, smoking and gossiping in the rapidly fading light. Which left the usual suspects sitting around the fire: John, Bill, Uncle, and Micah.

“Mister Morgan!” Micah drawled, his voice slurred with whiskey. “Seen any fairies today? Or Sasquatches?”

“Just the ones I’m seein’ now.”

This earned a drunken guffaw from John, but the others weren’t impressed.

“Think you’re so clever, eh Morgan?” Bill said thickly. “Well you ain’t smart.”

“Never said I was,” Arthur replied, walking past the campfire to Pearson’s stew pot. “But I do more work than any of you cowpokes.”

This led to an outcry from Bill, Micah, and Uncle. It was almost too easy to rile them up. John laughed: he was too far gone to care about anything.

Arthur ignored them, scooping Pearson’s stew into a bowl. There was meat in it today, but he couldn’t tell what species had made it into the pot.

“Dutch said you was goin’ to get us a Christmas tree,” Micah jeered. “You’re goin’ to freeze your ass off up there, Morgan.”

“Least I got an ass to freeze, Micah.”

The others howled in drunken laughter, and Arthur could hear Pearson and Susan joining in nearby. Micah shot him a dirty look. Normally, Arthur would have enjoyed a night of drinking and singing by the campfire, but not with this lot. He walked around them, back to the ammunition wagon, and sat on his cot.

The other gang members quickly forgot about him, allowing Arthur to enjoy his dinner in peace. That was, until Miss Kitty found him.

“Hey, Kitty.”

The tabby cat meowed in reply, and jumped up onto his cot. She eyed his bowl expectantly, without shame. Arthur picked out a piece of lamb, or whatever it was, and gave it to her. Miss Kitty wolfed it down, and meowed for more.

The gang had found her in Montana, or more precisely she had found them. Miss Kitty enjoyed her employment as Camp Mouser and Foot Warmer. She was surprisingly confident around humans, including little Jack Marston, but nonetheless discerning with her affection. Copper had been a lovable dumbass who adored anyone who even so much as looked at him, but Miss Kitty chose her friends carefully. She avoided anyone who was drinking, or shouting, or acting out. Otherwise she enjoyed games and cuddles with most of the gang. And Miss Kitty knew Arthur was a soft touch when it came to food. There was usually plenty in the pot, so he didn’t mind sharing.

“Leave some for me, Miss Kitty,” he chided, offering her another piece of meat.

Once the bowl was empty, Arthur wrote in his journal. He even sketched the tabby cat, curled up in a contented ball on his cot. He washed his face and hair, and trimmed his beard. In the absence of better company, Miss Kitty stayed nearby, exploring in and around the ammunition wagon.

When he finally lay down for the night, a book in hand, Miss Kitty jumped back up onto Arthur’s cot. She stepped onto his chest.

“I don’t have any food.”

But Miss Kitty ignored him, settling down and purring up a storm.

“Well, ain’t you a nice kitty,” Arthur said, rubbing her cheeks and ears. Miss Kitty was so relaxed she began to knead his undershirt. In the end Arthur gave up on reading and fell asleep, soothed by Miss Kitty’s capable paws.

-

When Arthur woke in the morning a thick fog had settled over the campsite. Miss Kitty had vanished, probably to hunt for some breakfast. He roused the coals of Pearson’s cooking fire and set about brewing some coffee. The camp was silent except for snoring from a few of the gang members: it was a miracle that the law couldn’t hear them from Blackwater.

Arthur warmed up a can of baked beans, which he enjoyed with a much-needed coffee beside the fire. Around him the gang began to stir. He poured Susan a cup, which she gratefully accepted.

Once his morning chores were finished it was time to saddle up. He would be riding for the best part of a day to get to the edge of Tall Trees, but not just any old tree would do: he would have to travel deeper into the forest to find the best-looking ones.

Boadicea was hitched at the gang’s horse station, on the outskirts of the camp. The dapple grey Andalusian nickered a greeting to him, which brought a smile to his lips.

“Hi girl,” he murmured, stroking her neck. “We’re headin’ out for a few days. You can thank Dutch when we’re freezing our rumps off.” She blinked, watching him with her dark eyes. She kept both ears trained on Arthur as he brushed and saddled her. Boadicea was a special horse: beautiful and clever and courageous. A warrior queen, just like her namesake.

The big chestnut gelding was next. Someone had the foresight to hitch him next to Boadicea, so they would get used to each other’s company. The chestnut was seventeen hands of solid muscle, better suited to a cart than a saddle. He stood as tall as a mountain, so the first name that came to Arthur’s mind was Hagen.

The gelding pinned his ears at Arthur’s approach, but his apprehension switched to curiosity when the man spent some time introducing himself. A few oatcakes and a brush all over had Hagen calm and responsive. Arthur despised folks who treated their animals like unfeeling lumps of horseflesh.

“Alright, feller,” he soothed. “Let’s see if you’ll take a pack saddle.”

Hagen stood quietly while Arthur tightened the cinch and adjusted the straps. Boadicea secretly watched them the whole time, pretending to be fascinated by something in the fog. She was the jealous type, and failed miserably at hiding it.

Arthur finally mounted up, Boadicea’s reins in his left hand and Hagen’s lead rope in his right, and guided them through the trees. Charles was still on watch duty; Bill had not yet woken up after the night of heavy drinking.

“Good luck, Arthur.”

“Thanks Charles. Give Bill a kick for me, will ya?”

Charles smiled, his eyes dull with exhaustion. “I’ll give him two.”

Arthur tipped his hat and rode out onto the prairie. He nudged Boadicea into a smooth lope, and they enjoyed an easy ride across the plains. Hagen kept up at first, eager to make a good impression, but with his great size he tired faster than the mare. So they slowed to a steady jog, all the while heading west towards Tall Trees.

The fog burned up by mid-morning, revealing a crisp, clear winter’s day. Arthur followed the muddy roads that scarred the prairie, humming to himself to pass the time. The gang were still new here, and as such they weren’t wanted in West Elizabeth - yet. He greeted the farmers, hunters, and fellow travelers that he passed on the road. Most of them were friendly enough, while others just wanted to be left alone.

Arthur stopped hourly to rest, letting the horses graze for a few minutes before moving on. Around midday he found a sheltered spot on the banks of the Upper Montana River, and built a small fire. The sun was out but the wind blowing down from the mountains leeched the warmth from his bones. Arthur spent a good amount of time by the fire, defrosting his numb face and hands. The horses also enjoyed the break from the relentless wind, grazing together on patches of green grass.

After a lunch of pan-fried, freshly caught bluegill, Arthur knew it was time to push on. In less than an hour the sky had turned from clear to overcast with the threat of a storm. He wanted to reach the forest before it hit as the trees would provide some protection.

The clouds turned steely grey as they rode west. The wind didn’t let up, rising to a howl as they sighted the first stands of spruce and fir. Arthur checked the time; it was past three when thin, watery snowflakes began to fall. They dissolved on the grass and soaked into Arthur’s jacket. He almost lost his hat after a massive wind gust, and stowed it safely in a saddle bag.

Boadicea snorted uneasily. It wasn’t a predator scent that worried her, so it must have been the weather.

“Almost there, girl.”

Hagen didn’t look too happy either, and he stuck to Boadicea like glue. Arthur knew that only a big storm would upset the horses. Finding Dutch’s Christmas tree would have to wait.

They pushed against the wind, tracking deeper into Tall Trees. The snow began to settle on the ground now, and quickly buried the road. At first Arthur could figure out where the trail was, but soon everything began to look the same. There were no road signs out here. He only figured that they were lost when Boadicea stumbled over a hidden rock.

Arthur dismounted and led the horses forward, looking for any shelter from the weather. They were now lost outside in a blizzard, soaked and freezing, with night rapidly approaching. They wouldn’t last long if they didn’t find a windbreak.

He almost didn’t hear the snort from Boadicea, even though her nose was next to his ear. It was hopeful sound, and it gave Arthur hope too.

“What is it?”

He could hardly see a few feet in front of him, and it was only thanks to Boadicea’s keen senses that they found the cabin. She pulled on the reins, guiding Arthur to the left. A small building materialized in the storm, and the three hurried towards it.

Boadicea had brought them to a log cabin and a lean-to that looked like a stable. The cabin’s shutters were closed and no smoke rose from the chimney.

Arthur led the horses into the stable. It was a crude building, with three walls and a hitching post inside. No animals had been stabled there for a while as there was no fodder or tack. It had been cleaned out, either by its former owners or thieves, but at least it offered respite from the wind and snow.

He removed the saddles from both horses, using a sweat scraper and his own blanket to dry them off. Next, Arthur opened a bag of provisions on the pack saddle, tipping vegetables and oatcakes into the food trough. The food had been for him, but the horses would not be able to graze any time soon.

Once Boadicea and Hagen were secured to the hitching post and happily munching away on their dinner, Arthur drew his revolver and walked to the cabin door. It was slightly ajar, and dark inside, but he wouldn’t be taking any chances.

He pressed his shoulder against the door, aiming inside. Arthur couldn’t hear anything over the wind so he shoved it open. Once his eyes adjusted to the gloom he discovered a bed with a stained mattress, an empty fireplace, and a writing desk.

Arthur exhaled in relief and stepped into the cabin, closing the door. It muffled the wind’s howl and he could finally think properly. He struck a match and lit his oil lantern.

Like the stable, the cabin had been cleared of anything remotely valuable. There was a tattered photograph of a married couple on the wall and a few orphan pieces of cutlery, but that was it. It smelled musty with disuse. There weren’t even any logs for the fireplace, so he hacked up the desk chair with his hatchet and used the pieces for kindling. The desk would be sacrificed next.

The cabin and the stables, though rudimentary, were both in reasonable condition. Arthur wondered if something evil had befallen its owner. Perhaps it had simply been abandoned, or it served as a seasonal retreat for an author or artist.

As he built up the fire, his guard lowered, Arthur heard a high-pitched whine from somewhere behind him. He jumped up, knife already in hand.

There was no-one there, but he knew he had heard something. Arthur picked up the lantern and checked under the bed.

He found a dog hunkered down in the corner. The frightened creature avoided his gaze, cowering and trying to make itself as small as possible. It had shaggy fur, but Arthur couldn’t see the dog well enough to tell if it was purebred or a mutt.

“Hey there,” he said softly. “Come on. Out you come.”

The dog shivered, sticking to its corner. Arthur realized it could have hydrophobia, so he didn’t try to touch it. At least there was an easy way to find out if it was sick or not.

Arthur ducked out into the storm retrieve the saddles, and once the fire had reached a good size he melted a pot of fresh snow. After taking a draught himself he placed the pan under the bed, holding up the oil lamp to see. The dog was either too terrified or sick to drink. So Arthur decided to start cooking, hoping that the smell of meat would entice the dog out.

As he prepared his dinner, he heard the dog slurping up water from the saucepan. Definitely not hydrophobia! Arthur didn’t turn around, concentrating instead on heating the contents of the skillet. His dinner was a mess of tinned food: corned beef, peas, and kidney beans. He also had half a bread roll left over after fishing for the bluegill, and a tin of peaches for later. But what he was most looking forward to was the coffee: the percolator was already working its magic and he poured himself a mug.

Arthur sighed after his first sip. By the time he reached the grit at the bottom he felt human again.

He removed his gloves, hanging them by the fire to dry. The dog’s eyes were on his back, but he didn’t turn around so as not to frighten it further.

Once his dinner was piping hot and bubbling, Arthur removed it from the fire and ate straight from the skillet. If Susan Grimshaw was nearby she would have boxed his ear! After a few mouthfuls he decided to try his luck with enticing the dog out. He picked out a juicy piece of beef and flicked it under the bed, turning back to the fire.

“Come on, feller,” he soothed. “Got some more for you here.” He could tell from its rough-looking coat that the poor creature was starving.

But the frightened dog didn’t come out, and Arthur figured he would just leave the skillet for the dog overnight. With nothing much else to do he set about cleaning up and getting ready for bed. He walked outside one more time to check on the horses. Boadicea and Hagen watched him approach, hopeful for more food, but all Arthur could offer them was a conciliatory pat. The storm might last for days, so the remainder of his supplies had to be rationed.

He walked around to the cabin and pushed the door open. The dog had snuck out from its hiding spot, wolfing Arthur’s leftovers. It froze and shot him a wary look before scuttling back under the bed, tail tucked firmly between its legs. It looked like some kind of sheepdog.

“It’s okay, boy!” Arthur said, closing the door behind him. He did not move. “Come on out.”

After a minute of waiting he was about to give up and walk over to the fire, until the timid dog emerged. Clearly its hunger was greater than its sense of self-preservation.

The sheepdog devoured the rest of the corned beef, licking the skillet clean. The dog looked up at Arthur for more.

“Well, I guess I can find something else.”

Arthur rummaged through his satchel and retrieved a wedge of cheese in wax paper. He broke off a bit and tossed it to the dog. The cheese was gone in a second.

“Between you and Miss Kitty I’m gonna starve, you know that?”

He broke off more tidbits of cheese for the dog, and discovered a few crackers crushed up inside their box. He knelt down, offering the food in his hand. The sheepdog approached slowly, still wary, but starvation was a powerful motivator. Despite the scruffy coat the dog looked like it was young, maybe two or three years old. Still a pup.

The hungry dog licked up the crumbs from his palm, but darted away when Arthur moved.

“What happened to you, feller?” he asked. “I’m sure someone used to care for you.”

He stood up and the dog flinched, but it didn’t retreat under the bed this time.

“I’d say that’s progress. We’re friends now.”

The dog stayed back as Arthur tidied the cabin and built up the fire with a few more planks. Although it was scared, the dog had definitely lived with humans before. So what was it doing out here all alone?

Arthur’s pocket watch read 7 p.m. - still too early to sleep. So he grabbed a bottle of bourbon from one of Boadicea’s saddle bags and sat on the edge of the filthy bed. It smelt like the dog had been using it for a while.

He wrote in his journal first, in case he forgot or drank too much to write legibly. He mentioned his success with Hagen, getting trapped out in a snowstorm, and finding the lost dog. He filled the opposite page with sketches: Boadicea and Hagen, a sizzling fillet of bluegill on the fire, the cabin, and of course the sheepdog. He did not show his drawings to anyone, but Karen had snuck up behind him once and commented on how good they were. 

The dog lay down next to the fire with a huff, keeping an ear on Arthur. It was a miracle the poor creature had not frozen or starved to death out here, but it had come close. 

A few swigs of bourbon had Arthur relaxed and inspired to sing. The bawdy songs from the Van Der Linde campfire were out of place here, so he sang Poor Lonesome Cowboy. It was one of the few he knew all the lyrics to. He never thought of himself as a good singer, and even the dog closed its eyes. He chuckled at the end of the song and drank deeply.

As he stared into the fire, another song plucked at the edge of his mind. Arthur didn’t like to sing it around the others - even though it was an old tune, it always felt too personal. Not that the newer gang members knew about his life. He preferred it that way.

He sighed, and lay back on the mattress.

 The years creep slowly by, Eliza, The snow is on the grass again, The sun's low down the sky, Eliza, The frost gleams where the flow’rs have been. But the heart throbs on as warmly now, As when the summer days were nigh, Oh, the sun can never dip so low, A-down affection’s cloudless sky.

 He sang the whole song to himself, his voice barely rising above the crackling fire or the wind pressing against the cabin.

 It matters little now, Eliza, The past is in the eternal past, Our heads will soon lie low, Eliza, Life's tide is ebbing out so fast. There is a future, O thank God, Of life this is so small a part, 'Tis dust to dust beneath the sod; But there, up there, 'tis heart to heart.

 Arthur let the silence drag on after the final verse. He blinked back tears. What a sentimental fool he was!

He sat up on the bed, about to retrieve his blanket, and his breath caught in fright. The dog was standing right beside the bed, watching him. When their eyes met the sheepdog wagged its tail once. Arthur reached out and the dog permitted him a scratch behind the ears.

“You know that song, boy?” he sniffed.

The dog licked his hand.

“Don’t tell no-one.”

The latch was flimsy, so Arthur pushed the saddles against the door. He picked up the still-damp blanket from the floor, and balled up a clean shirt to make a pillow.

The bed squeaked in protest as he stretched out again. The mattress was thin and lumpy and it stank, but he couldn’t complain - at least he wasn’t camped out in this storm, and he had coffee and a fire. Just as he closed his eyes, the sheepdog leapt up onto the foot of the bed. It paused again, waiting for Arthur’s reassurance.

“Here, boy.”

The dog moved gingerly, as though walking on coals, before curling up next to Arthur’s middle.

“We’re a sight, aren’t we?” Arthur mumbled. “Heh. Keep your fleas to yourself.”

He slipped into a restful sleep, and dreamed of riding across the plains.

-

The wind died down sometime during the night, and Arthur woke to a silent morning. The dog remained at his side, grateful for the warmth and company.

After last night’s bourbon binge, he had to answer the call of nature, and fast. Arthur got up with a sigh and cleared the doorway to get outside. He blinked and squinted as the door opened, his eyes adjusting from the dark cabin to the white forest. The storm had dumped two feet of snow in Tall Trees, and it was still falling. The flakes drifted lazily through the canopy, alighting soundlessly on the ground. The sheepdog appeared beside him in the doorway, yawning and stretching.

The two walked out, Arthur plowing through the snow and the dog trotting behind. They relieved themselves next to the cabin. The dog cocked a leg against a bush, confirming Arthur’s suspicion that underneath all that fur it was male. Now he had to give the dog a name.

The horses were quiet, and Arthur walked around to the stable. His heart dropped.

“Shit!”

Boadicea and Hagen had vanished. There were no tracks leading out, so they had been spirited away sometime in the night. He raised his fingers to his lips and a piercing whistle rang out through the forest. Arthur listened out for any answering call, but there was only silence.

The dog appeared next to him, alert and ready for action.

“Goddamn it, I’m not lookin’ for you.”

An idea came to Arthur then. The dog was scrawny and weak, but he was a sheepdog.

“Come on, feller.”

The dog followed him into the stable. There was no sign of a struggle. Arthur squatted down in the mud, and pointed at the frozen hoof prints. The dog sniffed, and looked up at Arthur quizzically. Arthur sighed. A bloodhound would have followed it straight away.

“Ugh. Stay here.”

The dog ignored him, following him back into the cabin. So Arthur placed the saddles before the dog, letting him sniff them.

“Can you find ‘em for me?”

The sheepdog cocked his head. He was familiar with the smell of horses, but unsure of what was being asked of him. He cowered, not understanding Arthur’s anger and frustration.

“I’m sorry, boy,” he said, trying to calm down.

Arthur built up the fire again until it was blazing hot. He broke off some twigs from a pine tree outside and placed them on the fire. Fragrant smoke filled the cabin, but most of it went up into the chimney. It would help him to find his way back.

He quickly packed up, making sure that his revolvers and rifle were clean and loaded. While Arthur didn’t want to cause trouble in West Elizabeth so soon after moving in, he would do whatever was necessary to get his horses back. Before he left, he cut himself a slice of salted beef, and gave the dog some too.

“Stay,” he said firmly.

Arthur closed the cabin door, leaving the dog inside with the saucepan of water. The dog was too weak to come with him. Or so he thought.

As he pushed through the snow, he could only guess where the horses had gone. Few people lived in Tall Trees, and they either lived alone or in small camps. The only settlement here was Manzanita Post, and like everyone else in the forest they were wary of outsiders. Probably with good reason.

Arthur heard a weak bark behind him, and stopped in his tracks. The dog! It had slipped through the door, and was following his trail. He crouched down as the dog approached, and smiled despite his mood. He scratched him behind the ears.

“I can’t look after you out here,” Arthur said gently. “Let’s go back.”

They turned and followed the trail; he had not made it far. Arthur noticed the dog sniffing around and had another idea. He walked back into the cabin and brought out the blanket he had used last night, the same one he had used to dry the horses off. He crouched down and held it out to the dog.

“Can you find ‘em for me? Find.”

This time the dog seemed to get it, and he jumped off Arthur’s trail and into the fresh snow. It was higher than his shoulders, but the sheepdog courageously bounded through it. He checked the area around the cabin and stable, circling out into the trees. Arthur also figured it was better to start here than blindly walk into the forest. The bears were hibernating, but there were still plenty of other big predators around. There might even be rival gangs in Tall Trees that he didn’t know about. He checked the trees for horse hair or broken branches - there must be some clue to Boadicea and Hagen’s whereabouts.

After a few minutes of searching, a yap echoed through the trees. Arthur hurried over to the sheepdog and found him standing proudly, tail wagging. The trees were thick here, catching most of the snow on their branches. Beneath them there was a narrow, shallow depression in the snow leading away from the cabin. A horse trail!

“Good boy!” Arthur praised. “You did it!”

He rewarded the dog with a piece of cheese. The dog smiled back at him for the first time, tail wagging in a blur.

“Find! Find ‘em, boy!” Arthur pointed down the trail, and the sheepdog set off, nose down and eager to please. Arthur noticed that some of the lower twigs had snapped, and the branches were holding less snow than the ones above after the horses had brushed past.

When the trail disappeared, covered by snow, the dog’s keen nose was quick to find it again. Arthur struggled to keep up as he watched out for his horses, the dog, wild animals, and any unfriendly people.

After maybe twenty minutes, he stopped and whistled again. The dog paused, and the forest returned to silence. Then, a faint, answering cry came from ahead.

“That’s Boadicea! We did it!”

He shrugged the rifle from his shoulder. If the horses had been stolen, there could be a fight. The dog raced eagerly ahead, but Arthur called him back.

“Come here, boy. Heel.”

The sheepdog whined, obviously keen to round up the horses, but he bounded back to Arthur’s side.

“Good dog.”

They stalked through the trees, Arthur wary of a trap, while the dog listened out for danger. When there was a rustle ahead, Arthur stopped and raised his rifle. Boadicea appeared through the trees, complete with bridle and reins, and whinnied when she saw him. He lowered his gun.

“Boadicea! I missed you, girl!”

Hagen appeared after her, and both horses trotted up to Arthur. To his relief, they didn’t have so much as a scratch or bump on them. Arthur hugged Boadicea, even giving her a kiss on the nose. He didn’t know Hagen well enough yet to give him a hug, but the gelding appreciated a pat and shoulder scratch.

When Arthur’s gaze returned to Boadicea, he noticed the mare studying the sheepdog.

“Easy, girl,” he said. “He’s coming back with us.”

Boadicea was clever enough to figure out that the scrawny pup wasn’t a threat. She flicked her dark mane, ignoring the dog and basking in Arthur’s attention.

It was obvious now that the horses had escaped from the stable by themselves. Boadicea was too clever for her own good and a serial escape artist. Arthur figured that in his haste yesterday evening he hadn’t tied a decent knot. The mare had freed herself and Hagen, both leaving the lean-to during the night in search of something to eat.

“Don’t ever make me worry like that again,” he scolded, but he wasn’t really angry. Just relieved.

He gathered up Boadicea’s reins and Hagen’s lead rope, and was about to walk back to the cabin when he noticed that the dog had wandered off.

“Hey! Dog!” he called. It definitely needed a name.

He sighed when the sheepdog didn’t reappear - maybe he was jealous of the horses getting all the attention? This time Arthur led the horses on the dog’s trail. The dog had not wandered far, and was sniffing around in a tiny clearing.

Arthur couldn’t believe it. Encircled by massive pine trees stood a single, perfect fir. It reached just a little bit taller than him, with blue-green needles and a classic conical shape. Dutch’s goddamn Christmas tree.

He shook his head. “Don’t know how you did it, boy.”

The dog realized that he was not alone and looked up with a goofy smile, forgetting about whatever interesting scent trail he had found. He reminded Arthur of someone from a long time ago.

With a firm word to both the dog and horses to stay put, Arthur cut the fir tree. It was almost too heavy for him to lift, but with a bit of clever maneuvering he balanced it across Boadicea and Hagen, securing their bridles together with Hagen’s lead rope. Boadicea grumbled, but Hagen shouldered the weight dutifully.

Arthur did not need to worry about finding the cabin again, as he and the dog followed their fresh trail back. It was still snowing, but the path remained clear.

The sheepdog was definitely flagging now, his limited energy spent on tracking the horses. His long pink tongue lolled, and even with the clear trail he kept stumbling. Arthur eventually picked him up, cradling him, and the dog was too exhausted to protest.

Arthur had already lost so much time, but on checking his pocket watch he realized that he might be able to make it to the camp at night. Even if he couldn’t make it back today, there was no need to stay in the cabin when he could move the horses to decent grazing by the river.

The snowfall ceased as they returned to the cabin. It was now late morning, and Arthur wasted no time in saddling the horses. The exhausted dog lay in a dry corner of the stables, trying not to fall asleep. He was still just a pup, after all.

Arthur cleared the cabin and left it as he had found it: it could be a useful hideout in future. Finally, he heaped snow over the fire until it completely fizzed out.

Boadicea pawed the ground, impatient to leave. She was pleased to have the tree off her back. Hagen now carried it by himself, but he did not complain. He even nibbled one of the branches, but shook his massive head in disgust.

Arthur found the sheepdog snoozing in the stable, and smiled to himself.

“Guess you’ll have to ride with me.”

The pup blinked awake, and yawned. Arthur gathered him up and lifted him onto his shoulder, supporting the dog’s weight with one hand.

“Jeez, kid, you need a bath,” he said, wrinkling his nose.

Arthur mounted up awkwardly, and moved the dog onto his lap. The sheepdog looked around in bewilderment - he had probably never been on a horse before. Using his compass as a guide Arthur steered his clever, mischievous mare to Blackwater.

-

As the trees thinned and the snow melted away, Boadicea transitioned into an easy lope, eager to move out of the forest. Arthur allowed her to set the pace, concentrating on the dog instead so he didn’t slide off the saddle. He also released some of the lead rope, allowing Hagen to fall back slightly: he was done being smacked by the prickly branches of the fir tree!

Many of the dog names that sprang into his head were… uninspiring. Rufus. Patches. Bob. Sport. Jack. He certainly couldn’t call the dog Jack! Abigail would have a fit. The dog sighed, as if silently agreeing with him. Arthur decided to try out some names later, to see if the sheepdog would respond to any of them.

They stopped on the plains for a late lunch. Hagen and Boadicea devoured the withered grass as though they had not eaten for weeks. The grazing was not as good on the plains as by the river, but they still had a ways to go before they reached water again. The earth was muddy and the grass a dull brown, but at least there was no more snow.

After eating some of Arthur’s meagre lunch - salt beef and baked beans - the dog set about rolling in the mud. Arthur didn’t bother to stop him, as the mud would cover some of the stench.

“Miss Grimshaw’s goin’ to dunk you in a barrel of cold water when we get to camp.”

The dog snorted in delight.

“Heh. You remind me of my boy, Isaac. He used to love gettin’ muddy too.”

The sheepdog left smears of cold mud on Arthur’s snow jacket and trousers once they were up in the saddle. Despite the short rest and a feed of shriveled grass, Boadicea happily kept up a smart jog. She was eager to get back home, where she could eat as much hay as she wanted. Arthur gave her a pat on the neck. Hagen sensed the mare’s excitement, and matched her pace.

Though the overcast sky never cleared, mercifully there was no rain or snow on their ride back to camp. Arthur found a road sign to Blackwater just as the sun melted into the western horizon. They were making good time.

Arthur made it back late, close to midnight. He had lit his oil lantern, and was riding through the dark when a shout came from nearby. Arthur, the dog, and both horses jumped.

“WHO GOES THERE?!”

“It’s Arthur, ya dumbass.”

The warm light from the oil lamp lit up John’s face as he approached. He wasn’t drunk this time. How unusual.

“So, King Arthur has returned with his legendary tree.”

“Shut it, Marston,” Arthur replied sourly. “I got this for your boy.”

John snorted with laughter. “You got it ‘cause Dutch told you to.” He turned and walked back to his post.

Arthur grit his teeth. John was right, of course, but he was too tired to come up with a snappy comeback. He nudged Boadicea forward, and she took them to the horse station.

The dog, still unnamed, stuck by Arthur as he removed the fir tree and saddles. Javier noticed him laboring in the shadows and got up from his bedroll to help.

“Nice work, Arthur,” he said, eyeing the tree. “Dutch will be happy with this.”

“I hope so,” he growled. “Been ridin’ for two days.”

Javier noticed the dog then, sticking close to Arthur for protection, but keeping clear of the horses’ legs.

“Hey, you found a dog!?”

“Yeah, abandoned most likely. He was half-dead when I found him. He’s a good dog: kinda timid, but smart. And he ain’t sick neither, just dirty.”

“It’ll be good to have a dog here again, listening out for trouble. If you’re alright with the horses I can set up the tree?”

Arthur nodded. “Thanks, Javier.”

The horses were already tucking into a hay bale between them, and all Arthur had to do was brush them down and pick out their hooves.

“Good job, Boadicea. You too, Hagen.”

He gave them each a grateful pat on the neck, and walked back to his cot, skirting around the campsite with the dog at his heels. The camp was silent, most of the gang asleep, and they managed to avoid being noticed by anyone else. Arthur would deal with Susan’s wrath tomorrow.

-

“You’ve outdone yourself, Arthur.”

He blinked awake. He knew instantly that it was early – too early to be awake. The sun had just risen, its weak light twinkling through the trees. The still, cold air caught in his lungs.

Dutch was leaning against the wagon at the foot of Arthur’s bed. He smiled, with a warmth that reached his eyes.

“Ugh, what time is it?” Arthur mumbled.

“Early enough for young Jack. See for yourself.”

Arthur sat up on his cot, the disturbance causing the dog to wake up too. Javier had dug the fir tree into the hard ground in the heart of the Van Der Linde campsite, and Jack and Abigail were already busying themselves with decorating it. Arthur squinted in disbelief – were they actually using gold necklaces and pearls?!

“They had to improvise,” Dutch said. “We don’t have no glass ornaments. The tree could do with some candles, though.”

Arthur lay back on his cot. “Don’t ask me to get those for you, too.”

Dutch laughed. “Rest up, son. But when you’re awake I would like to hear the story of how you got that dog.”

When Arthur finally got out of bed, close to midday, Jack ran up to him. The boy had obviously been waiting. The sheepdog jumped off the cot and shook himself vigorously. Arthur rolled the stiffness from his shoulders with a few satisfying cracks.

“Hey, Uncle Arthur!” Jack said. “Did you get the tree for us?”

Arthur covered up a yawn. “I sure did! You like it?”

“Yeah!”

“Now that’s what I like to hear. You and your momma sure did decorate it nice.”

“Thanks! Can I pat your dog?”

Arthur scratched his short beard. “Um. He’s a bit shy, but he likes food. Here, you can give him some cheese.”

Abigail watched nearby as Jack held out a morsel of cheese. The sheepdog was much less frightened now, and took it gingerly from the boy’s hand.

“What’s his name?” Jack asked.

“He doesn’t have one. Not yet, anyways. Want to help me pick one?”

“Yeah! What about… Spot?”

Arthur smiled. “Not bad. But I don’t think he looks like a Spot to me. How about Jake?”

“I don’t like it.”

As they were talking, the dog sniffed at Arthur’s satchel, eager to get into its contents.

Jack hummed in thought. “Maybe Gilbert?”

“Naw, that’s an old man’s name. He’s still just a pup. Kinda like you!”

Abigail laughed. “Come on, boys. You’ve gotta agree on somethin’.”

“Well, I guess he kinda reminds me of someone I knew a long time ago,” Arthur admitted. “How about, uh, Zach?”

The dog looked up from the satchel, his brown eyes focused on Arthur.

“I think he likes it!” said Jack.

“Yeah. That’s weird…”

Zach moved between Jack and Arthur, asking for a scratch.

Moments later Susan appeared at the ammunition wagon, towering over them with her hands on her hips. Abigail quickly smothered a giggle as the blood drained from Arthur’s face.

“Miss Grimshaw-”

“Don’t you ‘Miss Grimshaw’ me! I ain’t ever seen such filth in my camp before.”

“…is the water warm?”

Susan glared at him. “No. It’s colder than my heart. Now git!”

Arthur got up with a sigh and followed her to the wash basin, dreading the water’s icy touch. Zach followed at his heels, smiling all the way.

 -

The end!

[beybladeimagines]

hi! i was wondering if i could request tala and his s/o spending a lazy day together cuddling and being all cute 🥺 thank you sm!! (love ur account btw ur amazing💞)

Mod Note: YASSSSS, but also I’m sorry that Tala is a tease.

Seldom does the red wolf find time to relax. Much of his days are comprised of cold winds, relentless training, and the occasional chaos that others seem to impose onto him. But for once, there is silence and for once, there is a chance to lay low and embrace warmth. The latter seems to stem from you.

An arm that is usually used for protection and punishment is now lazily draped around your shoulder, keeping your body close in bed. You feel how tense and tattered his muscles are, despite the lack of abuse he’s subjected them to today. Those arms know of agony and they embody the definition of relentlessness. But it seems he’s used the remaining ounces of his strength to ensure your comfort rather than to practice more pain. Although neither of you chose to speak, the sound of blizzard winds beating on the outside walls serves as the only interference with your pre-established peace. Peace. Yeah - that’s what he calls it. The feeling of you next to him while the frost howls truly makes him feel untouchable. Nothing has ever made him feel so calm. Because when he knows that you’re okay, everything else feels so insignificant.

When you look over, you have never seen his eyes so soft. They are usually hardened by the demons of his past, but now the ice has melted, revealing a lazy winter. You shift in his grasp, wanting to get closer, and his muscles seem to match your intentions. He too turns to face you and no longer allows his gaze to wander beyond your expression. A hand motions to your faze, allowing frost-bitten fingers to wipe away loose strands that once hid your eyes. He doesn’t want those orbs to be off of him. You are the incarnation of solace and he needs to see the source of his serenity.

“How are you still cold?” You shudder in his arms, hoping the heat from his chest will erase the ice he imposed upon you. A deep chuckle escapes him, one that’s amused by the power of his own touch. His hand wanders under your chin, lifting your head away from being hidden. 

“Because you’re not close enough to warm me up.” His gaze is intense, but it demands you not turn away. His forehead rests against your own and you practically feel the heat of his breath against your own lips. He should be out of bed by now, he should be training, but instead he chose to make time for you and to see how far you were willing to let his sudden laziness go. Tala has always had a knack for pushing your buttons or putting you in positions that made you want to act and this moment was no different from the rest. Your eyes glance at his lips. Oh, how they practically usher you in for a kiss… and yet, you are too frozen to oblige.

“What are you looking at?” He taunts you. He already knows the answer, but wants to hear you say it instead of him. Victory is far sweeter when the prey announce their defeat, but perhaps he’s imposing too much of his personal philosophy onto the feelings between you two. When you look back at him, you swear there is a devious glint in that azure gaze, one that further teases you the longer you take. But just as you move in closer to steal a kiss, he quickly leans his head up only to peck your forehead before lifting himself away from the embrace. He just evaded the very act he was encouraging you to commit!

“Oh, would you look at that? You weren’t fast enough.” As always, that stupid smirk is left on his face… He seems to be quite proud of himself for his ability to entice you, but it seems there was something else he was after. You simply give him a bewildered look in response to his overly-cocky attitude. Before you can even reply, he glances over his shoulder in a manner that asks you to follow his impending path. Once again, the blue of his eyes seems to alter. You can read him in ways that don’t require speech. He isn’t done with you just yet; the statement that follows is proof of that. 

“If you want something, you need to learn to take it.”

[softjeon]

Cinnamon and fairy dust | Pt. 1

• Pairing: elf!Jungkook x Taehyung • Genre: Fluff (with a little bit of angst) | elf!AU ( → Gifset Trailer) • Words: 7k | Co-Writer: Cat @cassiavioletblue​  • Disclaimer: mentioning of violence / smut 

↳  There are no things such as fairy tales, magical reindeers that could fly, fairies and Christmas elves - at least Taehyung believed so. But everything was about to change, when Jungkook offered him shelter from a snowstorm and a sweet, hot cocoa, wondering about the boy who hated Christmas so much. Nothing that a bit of fairy dust couldn’t fix, right?

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Kim Taehyung hated Christmas. He hated the social deception of claiming to be glad to see people whose names he’d happily forgotten. Suddenly everyone pretended to be nice, spending way too much money on presents for people they didn’t even like in the first place. He hated eggnog and one better not ask him about Christmas music. As a child it may have been full of wonders, but now it only was a dreadful time. Sometimes Taehyung wished that Santa Claus was real and bring them all the stuff, so he could maybe enjoy the day again. But of course, these things don’t happen. There are no things such as fairy tales, magical reindeers that could fly, fairies and Christmas elves who were Santa’s little helpers.

Taehyung gripped the steering wheel tight, his knuckles whitening for a second. God, how he hated it and the memories it evoked. He saw the village’s sign from afar. He wouldn’t have needed the lights of his car to see anyway. Every lamppost and streetlight was wrapped in garland and twinkle lights, ribbons and tinsels lighting the way.

Of course, he knew people who loved Christmas, for specific reasons. His mother did. Way too much. Closing the door of his car, he looked up. A bunch of Christmas ribbons looped up the stairs to her house, with a large tartan bow at each peak. Taehyung had suggested his mother to go with a more minimalistic look for the festive season this year, but no, she’d been adamant. ‘Tradition”, she’d called it and a pain in the butt, Taehyung called it. Either way, he had been forced out of the big city to come down here to celebrate Christmas. He couldn’t come last year due to his job, so his mother had come to him, but this year Taehyung couldn’t find a way around it and his mother was only getting older. She doesn’t like the long train rides anymore and she never learned how to drive a car.

Walking up to the stairs, he wrapped his scarf a little tighter around his neck. The weather suited a polar bear more than a person. But here he was, six days away from Christmas, getting greeted with eggnog and the smell of cookies. At least one good thing.

He loved cookies.

It didn’t take long for Taehyung’s mother to involve him in decorating the house even more, for a bunch of people, or just the neighbors who probably wouldn’t appreciate it. Except for his mother, of course. She loved this time of year with a childlike passion, right down to the snow.

Taehyung hated snow, just not as much as he hated Christmas in general. When the house finally looked festive enough, he sat down with a sigh, wrapping his hands around the cup of tea she brought him. He hadn’t got time to unpack, yet, wanting to finally settle in, when his mother was already ahead giving him a new task to do. Why are people so full of energy around Christmas? He rubbed the bridge of his nose, only to flash a smile towards his mother, when she turned to him.

“Could you bring this over to Mrs. Jung,” She said, pointing to a little bag before she was wiping her hands off the apron. She got her baking gloves on to get some more cookies out of the oven. “I promised her to bring her some,” She kept on talking, almost burning herself on the hot surface. Taehyung sighed deeply as he looked out of the window. Great, now he had to go out in the cold again.

At first the snow was falling in soft, heavy clumps and Taehyung hid his hands in his pockets, keeping his head low. He really didn’t want anyone to recognize him, yet. He would get enough of the ramblings over how tall or handsome he had gotten all through the next days. Taehyung could feel the wind howling around him, making him shiver and his ears got red and cold. The wind seemed to loom around him, holding its breath and waiting for him to go back inside, but he still needed to get the cookies to his mother’s friend.

Mrs. Jung lived on the other end of the village and since he had no bike around and wasn’t crazy enough to try and ride it with the heavy snow that was falling right now, he had to walk. Though Taehyung could have used the car, he felt it was a little unnecessary - now he regretted it.

There weren’t much people around and those who were still outside, kept hiding in their jackets, trying to get inside and hide, crawling into their beds with a mug of tea and an old movie. Just like he wanted to do so desperately. He was happy though that Mrs. Jung didn’t seem to have too much time for him right now, when Taehyung stood in front of her door. She squished his cheek once, cooing over how broad shouldered he was, making Taehyung cringe a little with the old lady, feeling him up but thankfully, she took the cookies with a smile and let him go back without even stepping into her house. Oh yeah, he hated small talk with a passion as well.

The snow was falling faster and heavier on his way back now. Taehyung huddled deeper inside down his jacket, the only sound audible right now was the snow itself, falling so fast that he could hear the strange sush of it accumulating. The snow began falling even harder as Taehyung walked up the hill. The sky was so dark and grim already, his boots sinking deep into the snow with every single step. And then it was getting windier and when Taehyung looked up from his feet again, the snow was blowing around like crazy.

“Fuck,” He cursed, realizing that the weather was turning into a big heavy snowstorm, maybe even a blizzard. It was getting harder for him to see what was in front of him, so Taehyung did the next best thing, that came into his mind.

The bell rang, making him flinch a little from the loud sound. Who used old bells in shops anymore to announce a new customer? Looking up, he eyed the weird, rusty looking thing before he was shaking off the snow off his shoulders. Taehyung didn’t even turn to see in what kind of shop he stumbled into, looking outside the window with furrowed brows right away. The owners probably didn’t mind anyways if he seeked shelter until the snowstorm calmed down a little. Right now, he couldn’t see his own hand in front of him. And on top of that he wasn’t really good with directions in general. He would even buy something if it was necessary. As long as he didn’t need to walk any further. “I hate this,” He mumbled more to himself than anyone else and only now did he turn around to see where he was.

Normally when the door opened Jungkook greeted his customers with a vibrant smile. He was amazing with assessing people and finding out what they needed to get into a perfect state of calm and relaxation for them to fully enjoy the festive mood and feel the spirit of Christmas. This way while the customers were getting accustomed to the interior of the shop Jungkookie normally already headed for a sugar cookie or some cacao nibs to give them for free and after that he could basically watch their eyes starting to shine. It was such a satisfying experience to make humans happy. This time however his greeting totally failed. Because the customer that came in didn’t even spare him or the shop a glance, he just barged in, slammed the door shut and then turned around to watch the snow.

“Uhm, h…hello,” Jungkook tried a friendly greeting nonetheless. He was a bit out of his depth now. He only very rarely had grumpy people in his shop. Normally people were already entranced by his beautiful window decoration or shop windows meaning they were usually pretty excited to get inside. Not this one though apparently, “May I help you?”

Taehyung couldn’t help but furrow his brows a little, looking the other up and down for a second. He had never seen that boy before and Taehyung basically knew everyone in this village. No one came here on their own will, you rather moved away - so it was rare to see new faces. Especially, cute looking ones with curly hair and eyes that you could get lost in right away.

Taehyung took a step closer, looking into Jungkook’s eyes more closely – it was almost like…he was stargazing. How was one’s person eyes so shiny? Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Taehyung put a little smile on his face. “Oh, I’m sorry I barged in like that...,” He coughed a little, his voice sounding rougher than usual, “The snowstorm…it’s turning into some kind of a blizzard and I couldn’t see where I was going anymore. Is it okay…if I stay here for a bit? Just until it calms down again?”

Jungkook took a little step back, blinking, when the boy stared at him like that. Normally people tried to be a bit politer and not stare directly at him whenever they were smart enough to notice that there was something off about him that they couldn't figure out right away. But this one knew no shame.

“Do I... Is there something on my face?” He shyly wiped over his cheek as he sometimes got lost in baking, getting flour or chocolate all over his cheeks. Then the other seemed to regain his manners and acted like humans were supposed to. Still Jungkook couldn’t help but stay a little wary. Only until the other got a taste of his baked goods or a sip of a warm beverage - that was spiced with a little magical as well. It was pretty normal to him and didn’t have any special effects but to humans it was like warmth and comfort and safety. It brought out the nicest memories and the best qualities. As if they could step in here and leave their sorrows outside, take a breath of fresh air, come back to themselves and be reminded that there was good in the world. That’s why Jungkook wasn’t scared to work amongst them. No one had ever harmed him here at the shop and even though Yoongi still argued with him about how this was unsafe and how he should come back to the forest his complaints have gotten less and less frequent when he had noticed how much joy it brought Jungkookie to make others happy. So, he tried his best to comfort his new customer as well, giving him his most beautiful smile. “Ah, of course! Please get yourself comfortable. Do you want something to drink? Something to eat as well? I’ve made cinnamon apple crumble cookies that must be ready every minute now. There’s nothing better than eating them while they’re still warm and fresh.”

Taehyung looked around the shop in interest, only when he noticed the Christmas decoration he scrunched up his nose a little but quickly gathered himself again. The smell of sugar, vanilla and cinnamon permeated the air so thick he could almost taste it as he let his gaze wander around the bakery he had stumbled into.

“Yeah, I can smell that,” He said as he walked over to one of the barstools to sit down. Taehyung got out his phone right away to see if he got any Wi-Fi connection but of course it was as low as it could be. He couldn’t even open his facebook. He ran his fingers through his hair, sighing deeply as he looked out of the window again. The weather was only getting worse and all Taehyung wanted was to get home and preferably on his laptop. Maybe he could still get some work done later – but right now it seemed like he would be stuck here for a little while.

Defeatedly, Taehyung stood up again just to get out of his jacket and whatever was making him feel awfully hot right now. It was way too warm in his thick clothes within this bakery. He rolled his shoulders back, adjusting his sweater a little before he sat down again.

Jungkook was left standing there, watching the guy a bit awkwardly who really didn’t seem to have any interest in sweets at all. But even then, one humans always enjoyed to get themselves something hot to drink if it was as cold and snowy outside as it was right now. So Jungkook was honestly pretty confused.

The other was checking the phone screen, typing frantically and sighing in disappointment, not sparing the carefully arranged mistletoes and branches of holly that the ceiling was decorated with any second glances. Jungkook almost pouted. But he didn’t give up that easily. Maybe the human just needed a nudge into the right direction. “So… can I get you something now? Anything?”

Taehyung looked at the other with big eyes for a second, before he realized that he hadn’t answered any of the bakers questions, “Oh, sorry…I didn’t say anything. I’m just…tired. I just got here a few hours ago. Not that you care, but yes…if you like…” He reached for his back pocket, getting out his wallet to see if he got any money with him. Unfortunately, Taehyung only had a few coins. He mostly paid with card, so he found carrying around loads of money unnecessary, but looking at the old big register Taehyung figured that he wouldn’t have much luck if he asked about paying with his credit card. “I guess, I’ll just take a hot cocoa, please,” Taehyung said, this time with a smile.

Jungkook simply nodded and went to the kitchen to get what Taehyung had ordered. Talking to the guy made him more and more confused. He had told him something personal and then said ‘why would you care’ as if Jungkook was faking interest. But why wouldn’t he care? Taehyung was his customer. He always wanted his customers to feel good. So how could the boy think that Jungkook wouldn’t care about his well being?

He shook his head to get out of his own thoughts and not mess with the recipe. Too much cinnamon in a cocoa that he made was unthinkable! He took pride in his natural talent for baking and creating any kind of treats and he always did his tasks with love, no matter if he’s had one or twenty customers before. When the cocoa was finished he added a little hint of glitter on top. He only dared to do so when he had seen edible glitter in the baking section of a supermarket. Before that he had been too scared someone would notice the pixie dust on their milk foam and his secret would be out in the open - but after time he realized he didn’t need to be scared of that. Even if he slips sometimes and talks a bit too much or reveals a little more than he wanted humans always find a rational explanation for what he had told them. It’s kind of cute how much they insist on magic not being real when on the other hand they have such a fascination for it, buying fantasy books and watching movies and playing dress up at least two times a year. Jungkook loved it, how humans are such a mystery to him, how he can try to figure them out and still learns something new every day.

He takes the cookies out of the oven and then places an especially nice one on the saucer before he brings it over to Taehyung. “There you go. Please enjoy.” He gives him another smile and then hurries back behind the counter to watch the magic enfold.

“Thanks,” Taehyung looked at the cookie with a little smile before taking the cup and taking a sip without looking at it much further. The hot beverage was warming his hands perfectly and Taehyung hummed when he tasted the sweet chocolate. Noticing the boy’s stare, he turned his body sideways on the stool, leaning his back against the wall in the process. “It’s really good,” He said, thinking that the other was waiting for some kind of approval. He sighed again, watching the snow fall outside – only that right now it seemed so far away. It was almost relaxing. Taehyung closed his eyes, licking his lips slowly.

Jungkook started to relax as well when Taehyung was starting to unwind. His broad shoulders looked softer the way he cuddled into his own sweater and with the way he looked outside, no longer scanning the falling snow like it was something awful but rather observing it, acknowledging it Jungkook felt happier. Another Christmas miracle worked.

Reaching out for the cup of cocoa again, Taehyung suddenly saw that there were tinsels and some kind of brushwood (he didn’t care to look closely to see what it exactly was) stuck to his sweater. He tried to get it off him, reaching around his body but in the process, he was almost ripping the whole decoration down the wall with him. “Ahgh, why…is…there…so…much…stupid decoration in this town,” He mumbled in anger trying to forcefully get every bit of decoration and glitter and whatever decoration got stuck to him off.

Jungkook was just about to turn around to wipe down the counter when Taehyung started mumbling to himself, sharp and bitter and so frustrated that it made Jungkook gasp. He turned on his heels, staring at Taehyung in utter confusion. He had put the same amount of fairy dust and magic into Taehyung's cup as he did with anyone else. He couldn’t have forgotten it, he could still feel the prickling sensation in his fingertips. What kind of hatred must Taehyung feel if not even a pinch of fairy dust could soothe his heart?

He rushed towards Tae, coming to defend his poor decoration that was almost cleanly ripped of the holds with the way Taehyung angrily flailed his arms. “Don’t rip it please! I don’t have spare ones and those really took a while to make!” Of course, he hadn’t bought anything. Those were solely made by hand and mostly by him although some of the fairies in the forest had been more than happy to help, weaving delicate little ornaments into the decoration, weaving berries into wraths and dried flowers into beautiful little posies.

Taehyung froze instantly, letting the other help him get out of the mess he had gotten himself in again. Piece by piece Jungkook freed him from the Christmas decoration and Taehyung mumbled a quiet sorry.

“I didn’t mean to rip them,” Taehyung rubbed his neck awkwardly, “I hope I didn’t destroy too much or else just tell me what you get from me and I’ll pay you back!” When he noticed the expression on Jungkook’s face and the faint smile, he slapped himself on the forehead.

“Wait - You made it yourself? Aghh of course,” Taehyung’s cheeks blushed a little and he quickly took another sip of the cocoa to have something else to do and maybe so Jungkook thought the redness of his cheeks were caused by the hot steam. “Please don’t make me do decorations for you,” He blurted out of a sudden, “I mean…I’m really sorry but please don’t. My mother is great at it, but I suck. Really! You don’t want that! Believe me!”

Jungkook tried not to laugh at that but couldn’t really mask it as a cough as it just came out of him. “You just need practice then. I could show you,” He joked, grateful that Taehyung had apologized and not destroyed the wreaths and branches on purpose. It always hurt him to see something beautiful being uselessly destroyed on purpose. Some humans were sadly very good at it while the saddest part was that they didn’t even seem to notice. “Or you could send your mother over and we could bond over weaving decoration and baking Christmas goods.”

“Don’t you think you’re moving a little too fast there? Shouldn’t I get to know your name first before you weave Christmas decorations with my mother?” Taehyung chuckled low, loving the little flustered blush that creeped up the baker’s cheeks right away. “I haven’t seen you here before,” Taehyung said, taking a bite from the cookie, “There are rarely people moving to this village and you must be kind of new right? I mean I haven’t been here for years, but still…I think I know pretty much everyone…” He looked at the other in interest, before reaching out his hand, “I’m Taehyung by the way.”

“Oh!” Jungkook blushed prettily. He was a pretty fast learner, but he was still a bit new to human conventions and although he managed to fit in 99% of the time he was pretty embarrassed if he didn’t. He had been told that it was rather cute and endearing instead of awkward or off putting but it still made him feel a little shy. “Y..yeah, I’m new. Kind of.” He had been here for a while longer, living in the woods and watching the city before he deemed it safe enough to come out and actually work there. But all in all, he was new. He just hoped Taehyung wouldn’t ask him where he had lived before. He hated lying. And he was just as bad at it.

“Nice to meet you Taehyung.” He took the other’s hand, shaking it carefully while trying not to hold his gaze too long. Yoongi had told him that humans didn’t like it if you looked at them too long, so he tried not to do that. “I’m Jungkook.”

Taehyung nodded with a little smile, “Then I hope the old people here don’t bore you out of your mind?” Sitting back on the stool, Taehyung made sure to be much more careful now. He had finished his cocoa quick and the cookie was actually quite deliciously. Munching on the last piece, Taehyung added, “Though around Christmas it seems like they get some kind of extra energy. They go crazy here, honestly.” He looked around the shop again, getting reminded of the decorations that the other had put up himself, obviously liking the festive season himself, “Oh well…anyways, ehm…I should get going, I guess.”

“Ah, no, everyone’s been really friendly and nice to me so far.” Which was mostly true if he excluded the strange looks and behind-his-back-comments he had gotten when he had started working the bakery on his own at his young age. But Yoongi had acted like his ‘guarding’, telling them he was guaranteeing with his own wealth if Jungkook wouldn’t pay his bills. Which was pretty funny considering Yoongi didn’t own a single coin. But apparently you only needed to look old enough to pass as an adult and know how to talk to people to get what you want. He had made some extra vanilla parfait for Yoongi as thank you and even allowed him to lick out the bowl.

As soon as his neighbors and first customers had realized that he was working hard and putting his all into this they stopped talking and visited him regularly. Words soon got around about the new baker in town who was young and friendly and incredibly talented, getting you whatever you needed be it a treat for yourself or some sweet highlights for a birthday party. It came pretty handy that he didn’t need sleep the way humans did or else he wouldn’t be able to manage the bakery on his own.

His smile fell a little when Tae got up, saying goodbye already. It had been a bit lonely today as the people stayed home at such weather, so he was a bit disappointed that Tae was leaving already. Though of course it made sense. It had been just a short little visit by accident and now that the snow storm had lessened Taehyung would continue on his way.

A wave and a smile later, Taehyung made his way home again. Though he had only met the boy, he couldn’t help but wonder about him all evening and even when he laid down in his bed, staring at the ceiling he was still thinking about Jungkook. There was something about him that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Maybe it was just his naturally habit of being curious on why someone as young as him would want to live in such a small village like this one. Taehyung thought about if the boy would come to the town’s celebrations as well, or if he would see him again soon – then maybe he could ask him.

The chance to do so, did come sooner as he thought, when his mother came down the stairs the next day, waving her arms around like crazy, saying something about how her knitting club would come by today and she forgot to get some cake for everyone.

“But…you literally made thousands of cookies last night?” Taehyung pointed towards the boxes full of freshly baked ones that only waited to be eaten. “But I can’t only serve cookies, right?” She said already pushing his jacket into his hands, “It’s about balance, my dear.”

And that’s how Taehyung had walked all the way up to the bakery again, only this time there were a lot more customers around.

The same smell of cinnamon and vanilla embraced him just like yesterday and Taehyung couldn’t help but smile when he saw the boy working non-stop to please his customers, his smile not wavering one time.

The closer it got to Christmas the busier the bakery got so when there wasn’t loads of snow coming from the sky and keeping people from going outside Jungkook had a full house all the time mostly. He noticed Taehyung immediately when he came in for the simple reason that he stood out of the happily chatting crowd as he had put his hands in his jacket and was looking around like he still couldn’t believe someone would decorate their shop so festively.

Taehyung turned, looking around to see what else there was to get for his mother. When he noticed a little gingerbread house that Jungkook must have decorated, he got a little closer. Curiosity had gotten the better of him, when he saw the weird looking snow globe right next to it. Reaching out for it, Taehyung observed it more closely to see what was inside, when a sudden voice behind him made him jerk and almost drop the fragile globe of glass.

Jungkook flinched together with Tae when the other almost dropped his precious snow globe making a mental note to himself to never leave Taehyung with his sugar figurines unattended.

The older quickly put the globe away again, mumbling another ‘sorry’ before turning back to Jungkook. “I…ehm need something for my mother,” He said, noticing that almost every customer was happy and, on their way, out – so it was just the two of them… for now.

“I actually…don’t really know what she wants,” Taehyung walked over to the counter, “Something cake-y, I guess.”

“That’s... not really specific,” Jungkook chuckled, wiping his hands on his apron to not get powdered sugar on what he wanted to show Taehyung. “I made these cupcakes this morning. Do you think she would like them?” He took one of the delicately decorated cupcakes out from under the shop counter, so Tae could look at it.

There was colored frosting in fluffy little tufts on top of it and silvery sugar pearls on top that looked like iced pearls. “If you want to you can try one, just to make sure it has the perfect taste for what you are looking for.”

Everyone loved his cupcakes, no matter what kind of decoration or color they had, and he always had so many options that no matter if you preferred fruit or almonds, chocolate or cream you would always find the right thing. He also enjoyed creating all kinds of special recipes for people with intolerance to special ingredients or vegan diets. Naturally he had great sources of plant-based ingredients.

But Taehyung only raised his eyebrow at the cupcake, “It looks…weird.” He made a cringy expression, shaking his head when Jungkook offered him a piece, “Do you got something that looks less like….it has Christmas written all over it?” Looking around, Taehyung was searching for something simple, something like an apple pie, but he was only looking at more cupcakes. “How do you even got the time to do all of these?” He asked curiously, eyeing the cupcakes that were resembling Christmas trees with pursed lips.

“Weird?! I worked all morning on them!” Jungkook was practically offended. There he was putting all his heart into creating little tasty masterpieces that looked as deliciously as they were tasty - just for Taehyung to tell him they looked weird. He frowned, thinking about something simple that he could offer Tae, maybe one of the cakes that he had back in the freezer that hadn’t been decorated yet, if he took one of these and maybe made some simple cream based frosting or a flower from apple sliced... He was so busy thinking, listening to Taehyung only with half an ear that he accidentally answered honestly to the boy’s question, “I make them at night when you people are sleeping.”

Almost immediately he realized that he had said too much, stuttering and stumbling over his own tongue when he tried to correct his mistake, “I mean, surely I sleep I just...like to work long hours and get up early and...work some more you know?”

Taehyung cocked his head to the side, observing Jungkook closely who was stuttering the words, seemingly nervous. He chuckled a little, “Sounds like you’re a robot or something.” Jungkook was still fumbling around with the cupcake in his hand, his cheeks dusting in a rosy color and Taehyung couldn’t help but smile fondly.

“Just make sure to get enough sleep,” He spoke up again, “Especially around this time...maybe you should get yourself a little helper from time to time...I don’t know.” Taehyung laughed and pointed at the decoration, “I bet some of the older kids around here would love to work for a little extra money. They could be your little Christmas elves! Put a cute little hat on them, just like they do it at the Christmas market and voilà - they would fit in perfectly with your decoration.” Looking back at Jungkook, he smiled brightly, “Even I would find that cute, though I am not very fond of the festive season.”

“I’m... I’m not a robot!” He would have loved to add that he just didn’t enjoy lying around with his eyes closed half of the time as humans did but as he couldn’t just tell Tae that he didn’t have any arguments and just left it at that.

He huffed at the ‘little helper’, thinking about Yoongi, who might call himself that but was rather a little chaos-maker. Or a big one. Depending on his mood and his body size. He immediately stiffened when he caught the word “Elves”, his eyes growing wide, his stance automatically defensive before his brain caught up and he realized that Taehyung was just joking.

“Haha… yeah, that would be��� great.” He awkwardly laughed and then put the cupcake aside, wiping his hands on the apron gain as a nervous habit. “Why dont u take a seat while I quickly get the naked cake I’ve stored in the back and you can have a look at it and decide on decorations? If you want?” If he was getting insecure he had the habit of phrasing things as a question and checking for agreement too often which made it kind of more awkward instead of covering up his mistakes, but he just wasn’t like Yoongi. The fairy could go with the flow and practically turn any kind of conversation around to make sure nothing could happen to them. He had rescued Jungkook from precarious situations more than once. Jungkook himself just couldn’t do that although he was living amongst humans for quite a while now. But sometimes they were acting so strange - and it wasn’t as if there was a handbook to their behavior, so he just had to watch and learn and guess and try not to be so obviously nervous about them.

Taehyung nodded, though he had noticed Jungkook's awkward behavior once again. Either the other was really nervous in general or just shy. Shrugging his shoulders, he leaned against the counter waiting for Jungkook to come back.

Jungkook quickly placed the cake on a plate and grabbed a few simple decoration items onto another to show Tae what he could choose from if he wanted to keep it simple. He almost dropped the cake because he was so busy balancing all the things that he didn’t notice that Tae had leaned over the counter to get a look at the hidden kitchen. Which meant that he had basically ran right up into Tae’s personal space, the only thing separating them the plate with the cake. Jungkook swallowed hard, hoping that his curly hair would hide his ears even at this proximity. “This... is it. That’s... the cake,” He commented intelligently while not breaking eye contact with Tae and continuing to stare right at him.

“I can see that,“ Taehyung said with a smile and took a step back. He was watching Jungkook closely, looking at all the things he brought with him. “Do something simple, like flowers maybe?“ He asked and then added quietly, “I guess I would even accept a little bit of Christmas decoration like hollies or something but nothing more!“

“Do you want me to do a poinsettia in colored buttercream? With a little bit of edible golden glitter on top and some dark green ‘leaves’ to cover the rest of the cake?” Sometimes he was sad how little plants and flowers humans knew but the poinsettia, or Christmas star as it was also called was practically everywhere right now and he loved it. It would make an awesome looking cake. And as he had an eye for details and about a lifetime of being close to plants it would also be an easy task for him.

When Tae agreed Jungkook happily nodded, telling Tae to ring the little bell in case another customer would enter the store (hopefully his lunch break time would be less busy so that he would be able to finish Tae’s cake right away) before getting to work immediately. In his mind the Christmas star was already taking form while he mixed the natural food coloring made from berries into the prepared cream, watching it turn into a saturated deep and leasing shade of red that was ready to use. With only a tiny interruption in which he sold the lady across the street some sugar cookies he finished Taehyung's cake in no time and placed it into one of the prepared boxes that his customers could use for transportation.

After securely tying a gold ribbon around it he came back to the front to give it over to Tae. “There you go. Make sure to put it in the fridge if it won’t be eaten right away,” He reminded him. As he had licked the last bit of colored buttercream from the spoon his lips were dark red and shiny and would taste like sugar and cream. He looked beyond kissable, which Taehyung noticed right away. He stared a little too long, watching the boy lick his lips slowly, before flashing Taehyung a bright smile. He nodded absently minded not really listening to what Jungkook was saying.

Jungkook cocked his head a little, repeating the price for the cake, wondering why Taehyung looked so stunned. He wasn’t charging too much, he was actually quite humble with his demand considering the effort he put into the baking and the quality of his creations. “Is it too much? Maybe... maybe I could give you a discount if you can’t pay because it was... some kind of last minute thing. But... only this once okay? I need the money for new ingredients you see?” Jungkook had absolutely no clue that he was completely misreading Taehyung’s stare right now and that the other was avoiding his eyes because he was too busy staring on his lips and not because it was more money than he had on him right now.

“Huh?“ Taehyung looked up at Jungkook again, tearing his gaze from his lips. He was probably just going crazy over the lack of sleep he had and maybe because Taehyung had not kissed anyone in a while and the fact that Jungkook was the only one around his age here…yeah, that made perfect sense, why he was suddenly thinking about kissing someone who was still a stranger to him.

„No, please, no don’t worry!” Taehyung said, quickly getting out enough money and tipping the boy as well, “I just…wondered…sorry if I seem direct but…how old are you, Jungkook?“ He had blurted out the words faster than he could take them back again, so he added quickly, „I just thought…you must be around my age…and you know…actually, I don’t know. I just wondered about it, I guess.“ That boy’s nervousness was rubbing off on him, that was the only explanation why Taehyung suddenly felt so awkward around him.

Jungkook blinked at the Taehyung’s question, the sudden change of behavior startling him a bit. Busy with accepting the money, thanking Taehyung for the tip and putting everything away he was doing too much at once and answered without thinking, telling Tae the first thing that was on his mind

“Five.”

In the silence that followed he tried to find out what had gone wrong when realization hit him. Jungkook didn’t really have a concept of human time and he didn’t knew hold old he was exactly either. So Yoongi made it a joke to tell him he was five, as they knew each other for five years now and Yoongi insisted that Jungkook was a total baby when he had found him. He had accidentally just repeated Yoongi’s words without realizing that it must sound completely mental to Taehyung to talk like that.

“No...no! Of course, not... I’m not... I’m twenty-five, I meant...” He groaned in shame, hiding his face in his hands. Could it get any more awkward with one single person? It had been quite a long time since he’s made a fool out of himself like that.

Taehyung snorted with laughter, “What?“ Shaking his head in disbelief, he looked at Jungkook with a raised eyebrow, “You’re five? So…you’re telling me that you’re working like a robot, don’t really sleep at night and you are only five years old? Don’t tell me you are a vampire or something?“ He couldn’t help but laugh at Jungkook, when the other corrected himself.  “No, Vampires are...” Jungkook was about to correct him when he pouted a little at running right into his trap “You’re joking, right?” 

Why did Taehyung confuse him so much?

“You’re really too cute for your own good, Jungkook!“ Taehyung said with a wink and took the cake, before flashing Jungkook a bright smile.  “Thank you again…for the non-Christmas-Christmas cake,“ With one hand Taehyung opened the door of the bakery again, the bell ringing once more. He looked at the cute boy one more time, before he added, in a soft tone and with a smile that he tried to hide while biting his lip, “Tonight they light up the big tree in front of the town hall…maybe I’ll see you around.“

Speechless he watched the other flirt with him, winking and smiling and then saying something about maybe meeting him at the Christmas tree lighting festival. “This... this is a date, right?” Jungkook shyly spoke to himself, to make sure that this was real, and he wasn’t dreaming.

He knew that this was some kind of romantic thing, asking the one you liked out to be with you on Christmas markets and evening events. He had watched enough soap operas to see the hints - although Yoongi had told him that half of what they showed wasn’t even realistic and that Jungkook shouldn’t believe them at all. But the elf had definitely seen humans acting just like he had seen on Tv, so he wasn’t really sure if Yoongi wasn’t just trying to mess with him - or keep him from experiencing something that he hadn’t had the opportunity yet.

He was a teeny tiny bit jealous of all the lovely couples holding hands and kissing and just generally being sweet with each other. There was no way he could have that too and although he was okay with it most of the time he couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel to be like them just once, to be held and cared for and... and maybe even kissed? He hid his blush behind his hands although he was the only one in the room but better safe than sorry. You never knew when a curious fairy would pop up somewhere.

A/N: There it is, the first chapter to our first fluff christmas story. Funny enough, both Cat and I aren’t very fond of the christmas season but still we wrote this in october so you guys have something to enjoy. We really hope you will like this, as it is something completely different from what we usually write. But don’t worry...if you’re a fan of our angst stories, there will be more coming soon. We are currently working on three different stories at the moment. 

Anyways, we hope you enjoyed the first chapter! Don’t miss a new update every saturday and tuesday for this story and don’t forget to leave a comment or message us on how you liked the first chapter! We love you guys!

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Balance on the Head of a Pin

Chapter Forty-One

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Loki Odinson x OFC  |  Word Count: 4266 Warnings: Death, maiming, language

Lauren woke to sticky heat and the scratch of something against her hand. Her first instinct was to move, jolt upright, search for Pepper, and scream for Loki, but caution won out.

Natasha had talked her through this. So had Bucky. Hostage takings, kidnapping attempts, dangerous situations. All of the above had been covered because she was Tony Stark’s assistant and could, potentially, wind up in one of any number of scenarios. Hence the demand she learn self-defence, though those lessons had been a heck of a long time ago, and she hadn’t exactly kept up with the training.

She tried to keep her breathing steady and body relaxed, not wanting her captors to know she had awoken yet. A twitch of hands assured her they were bound together. A second showed her feet weren’t. Evidently, they weren’t worried about her running away.

Inhaling as deeply as possible without making it obvious, she breathed in the familiar scents of barn. Hay. Dust. The musty smell which could only come from the use of animals. The scent of hide and leather made her think horse, but there was a tang of metal too. A combination of animal and farm equipment. But everything was muted, stale and old like the place hadn’t been used in a while.

Perhaps the farm was abandoned? The barn now standing idle.

Great. That narrowed it down, she thought sarcastically and sighed internally.

She had no idea how long she’d been out but assumed not long or Loki would already be there. This, in turn, surprised her. Whatever chemical they’d used to knock her out should have lasted a while, or so she’d always thought, but perhaps this was another side effect of going from human to Asgardian. Maybe her metabolism was higher, or the drugs didn’t work like they should.

More questions to ask Loki when he arrived.

The sound of shuffling had her relaxing all her muscles and slowly cracking open her eyes. She could see three men. Two she didn’t know, but George was the third. A soft snuffling came from the left, and Lauren carefully tilted her chin to see who it was, worried about Pepper.

Instead, she found Cricket and Darlene. Both tied to chairs. Both sobbing quietly. And two more men.

Movement from the right heralded Davis Montgomery and a short, balding man Lauren remembered from Tony’s briefing. Alonzo Mancini, cousin to Giovanni Bianci. They came in through a wide doorway which led out into the night.

“I did what you asked. Now let my wife go,” Davis was saying, his face a mask of tightly controlled anger.

“You got me two women. How do I know for certain either will be the leverage you say she is, eh?” Mancini asked, his accent thick, making him difficult for Lauren to understand.

“It’s the blonde! She’s the one you want. The redhead was just collateral damage,” George barked, only for Davis to glare at him.

“Shut up, George! I think you’ve done quite enough!” Davis hissed. “Now, I’ve paid you what you asked to release my wife. She and I are leavin’.” He walked past Mancini toward Cricket, only to have one of the two goons behind the women pull out a gun and point it at Cricket’s temple.

Davis stopped when Cricket screamed.

Lauren tried not to flinch at the sound.

He held up his hands in surrender. “I’ve done everythin’ you’ve asked. I can’t be blamed for her fiancé outbiddin’ me! They never entertained any other offers!” Davis snapped.

“You should’a tried harder, yeah?” Mancini smirked. “Maybe I should shoot your wife for wasting my time?”

Cricket’s eyes went wild, but Davis only looked at her calmly and motioned to the bag sitting beside Cricket’s chair. “I’ve given you everythin’ I have. Fifteen million was all I could put together on short notice. I don’t care what you do to my son or his woman, just let me take my wife and go.”

Lauren inhaled sharply but thankfully no one noticed. He would do that? Just abandon George and Darlene without a second thought? What the hell kind of father was he?

Mancini stared at him for quite some time before motioning to his henchman to release Cricket. She stood on shaky legs, cast a glance at the sobbing Darlene, and rushed toward Davis who clutched her close.

They headed for the door, but Davis stopped when he was even with George. “I no longer have a son. Don’t ever contact us again.”

George looked away from the condemning eyes but nodded his understanding.

While they had their exchange, Mancini locked eyes with the man who’d held the gun on Cricket and smiled. It was so cold and so deadly, Lauren shuddered. The henchman grinned and sauntered forward to follow Cricket and Davis as they left the barn. There was silence for all of a moment before two shots rang out in quick succession.

Darlene yelped, George flinched, but it was Lauren who jolted and gasped.

Dear God!

She had no misgivings that Cricket and Davis were still alive. However, her involuntary reaction had drawn attention to herself.

Mancini was staring at her now with his beady little dead eyes. “Awake, bella? How peculiar.”

The sound of his voice made her skin crawl as Lauren pushed herself upright. Someone had thrown a blanket down on the pile of straw she’d been laying in, likely the only reason she wasn’t itching something fierce. “Why would you let them go only to kill them?” she asked, horror lacing every word and bile rising in her throat. They may have been misguided and blind to their son’s machinations, but they deserved better than a couple of bullets.

“It is like he said,” Mancini smiled as he walked closer, causing Lauren to shrink back. “I had gotten everything I could from him. They were no longer of use.”

His stubby fingers grabbed her chin, then dug into her jaw when she tried to pull her face away. “Hold still!” he snapped and wrapped his hand around her torque. He jerked on it, but it didn’t budge, just banged the back of her neck and made her grunt. “Why can I not remove this? It will fetch a pretty price.”

Pain radiated through her jaw, making Lauren whimper. His dead eyes held hers caught in a spell of evil like she’d never seen, but it was the howl of a wolf rising to tear through the night which burned away the terror trying to take her over.

Loki. He was coming. Such relief filled her, Lauren smirked against the strong fingers digging into her face.

“You smile, bella. Why?” Mancini asked, giving her torque another hard tug.

“You’ve made a big, big fuckin’ mistake.” She wondered if the glee showed on her face or if it was madness which caused his breath to hitch.

He frowned, tilted his head, and his eyes narrowed. In a flash, he’d released her jaw only to haul his hand back and strike her in the face, then punch her in the temple.

Lauren crashed to her side with a groan, pain exploding in her cheekbone and head, and her vision wavered. Blood splashed on her hands from the cut her teeth had made to the inside of her cheek and the world spun.

This time, a roar rattled the rafters and sent dust falling down from the ceiling.

“Yeah,” she snickered through the pain and dizziness. “Big fuckin’ mistake.”

Everyone had frozen at the sound, each reaching for a weapon, except George who looked terrified. Darlene had started to cry in earnest but she paid the woman no mind. There was no room for weakness. Not now. Not when Loki was on his way. She would not cower and cry. She wasn’t some helpless child anymore.

Lauren spat more blood and chuckled darkly, finding Pepper had been behind her all along. She remained unconscious still, and Lauren thanked the fates for small mercies.

“What… what the fuck is that?” the man who’d shot Cricket and Davis asked.

“Death,” Lauren whispered and smiled when Mancini glared at her.

He grabbed her by the hair and wrenched her head up. “Who is it? What is it?”

“What did you do, George?” she asked instead, focusing on the man who’d slunk over to huddle in the chair beside Darlene. “What did you tell them? Did you think y’all could ransom me back? Trade me for money?”

“For gold and jewels of the quality he received to pay us off? Yes!” hissed Mancini who jerked her up to her feet.

She cried out in agony when the pain seared across her scalp. Her shoes were missing, another way to keep her from running most likely, allowing rocks and rough wood to dig into the pads of her feet as she stumbled after him.

Mancini kept her head wrenched back and dragged her toward the center of the barn. His men gathered around them, facing the two openings on either end of the structure.

“He won’t pay you,” Lauren laughed, the temperature around them plummeting to the point her breath puffed out in clouds of white. “He’s just gonna kill all of y’all.”

Mancini wrapped his arm around her waist and pressed a gun tightly to her belly. His hand released her hair, but the singing sound of steel leaving a sheath was unmistakable before a large, sharp blade was placed firmly against her throat. “Shut up, bitch! He’ll pay, or he’ll watch you bleed!”

“You,” Lauren swallowed to wet her dry throat and felt the blade cut in, sending rivulets of red trickling down her throat. “You don’t know who you’re dealin’ with. I’m bettin’ George didn’t tell you.”

“Tell us what!” Mancini snapped, sounding frantic and wild. His men whipped their weapons side to side. The feeling of malice seeming to pound down on them, soaking the air with the scent of the men’s fear.

Snow was falling beyond the open doors, turning the world into a blizzard of white, fluttering on biting cold winds. It blanketed the ground and snuck through the holes in the ceiling to create puddles of white on the barn floor.

“Oh, my. You’ve made him very angry,” Lauren murmured, staring at the winter scene with quiet amusement.

Frost had begun to creep toward them like a living thing. It coated walls, beams, the ceiling. Snaked across the ground to where Pepper lay, paused, and circled around her, leaving her in a patch of untouched blanket.

It grew ever closer until Mancini’s men had backed as close to him as possible, not daring to touch the icy white substance which seemed to have a mind of its own.

Mancini’s knife dug deeper. “Tell us what that is?” he snarled, jabbing the point into Lauren’s soft flesh and sending fresh blood coursing down her throat.

She eyed George and Darlene in their own circle of untouched ground. “My husband… is not to be… trifled with. He is a God, after all.”

A growl followed her words, deep and feral before the head of an enormous black wolf dropped down to stare in the doorway. White teeth flashed. Yellow eyes glowed. Then he was gone. Long legs and giant feet paced past the opening to circle the barn. His shadow could be seen through the gaps in the boards and the low, continuous snarl allowed for easy tracking when they turned as one to follow his progress.

“If you let me and Pepper go, I may be able to convince him not to kill you,” Lauren offered.

“What… what the fuck?” Mancini’s muttered. “What the fuck is that thing?”

Lauren knew she shouldn’t find this funny, but she couldn’t help but snicker just a little. “Loki is the God of Mischief, an Avenger, and my husband. Y’all really should let me go.”

The knife at her throat only dug deeper, sending hot blood sliding down her skin. It made Lauren whimper a second time.

“You should listen to my wife.”

The words whispered through the open door as the wolf came to a stop a second time. Head lowered, the yellow-gold eyes had gone red with his rage. Even his black fur had taken on a blue cast. The temperature had dropped further, causing Lauren to shiver and ice to crystallize in the air with every breath.

“Shoot it!” snapped Mancini.

They opened fire, but the wolf swirled into curls of snow and vanished. The gunfire ended, and the silence was defending until a sharp crack resounded behind them.

Mancini dragged her around in time to watch the first body fall. The man’s head was twisted the wrong direction, nearly torn from his neck, and Lauren felt a little sick.

“My heart. I wish you would not watch this,” Loki murmured, his voice coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

“It’s you, peaches,” she whispered, knowing he’d hear her. “I know you. Nothin’ you do will ever scare me.” A brush of hand caressed her cheek, there and then gone, and elskan min whispered in her ear.

Wicked laughter bounced through the building and echoed off the walls. “You should not have taken my Ástvinur. You will know pain before you know death.”

A low growl preceded the wolf arriving in the opposite doorway. They turned and fired again, only to have another of Mancini’s henchmen die, this one screaming and gurgling blood when the dagger pierced his chest.

“I’ll kill her!” Mancini barked, jamming the gun under Lauren’s rib cage. “I’ll blow the bitch away!”

His last two men fell at the same time, spraying blood in massive arcs when something sharp and jagged tore out their throats. Only then did Loki appear before them.

Knelt on the ground, his head was bowed. The horns she loved obscured his face, but shining blue blades were outstretched and dripped blood onto the sparkling white snow. “Release her, and I will grant you a merciful death.”

“Take one more step and she dies!” Mancini snarled.

***

Thunder cracked in the distance, but what rain Thor was creating froze the instant it came in contact with the wall of Loki's rage and only added to the snow falling around them. Slowly, Loki lifted his head and got to his feet, lowering his arms to his sides.

He took in the state of his love and felt his soul freeze with her appearance.

Blood. Blood dripped down her beautiful skin. Bruises marred her face and the length of her jaw. The most enticing length. The favourite place for his lips, the part of her which drew him in in that first moment of meeting had been damaged by the man who continued to press a knife to her throat and a gun to her abdomen.

“My heart.” He could feel the pain she was in. The cold, his cold, was keeping much of it at bay, and the adrenaline singing in her veins the rest, but soon it would not be enough to keep her from collapsing. However, the light in her eyes had not diminished, only grown.

There was a fire in her. Amusement burned with mischief and his magic in those gemstone eyes. She radiated a calm which astounded him. Bloody, bruised, and beaten, she was a creature glorious to behold. Her trust in him was without end. She hadn’t a reason to panic for she knew he would come.

“Loki.” The knife dug in and forced her to lift her chin.

“Stay back!” Mancini barked.

“My darling. Everything will be alright.”

“I know, elskan min,” she murmured and smiled, showing him the blood in her teeth.

He vanished his knives and held up his hands. “What do you want?” Loki asked the man holding her.

Already his knife was slick with Lauren's blood. Too much blood, but then a single drop was too much.

Mancini grinned, thinking he had the upper hand. “Gold. Jewels. The kind you made him. And then this little bitch and I will be leaving.”

“That,” Loki smiled, “will never happen. You will not leave here with my wife.” He would not be leaving here alive. His death had been assured from the moment he’d laid a hand on Loki’s woman

“Loki,” Lauren whispered, her voice too low for Mancini to hear.

Her hands lifted toward the one holding the gun at her waist, and his eyes widened in understanding. Absolute terror filled him. “Lauren! No!”

Everything slowed to a crawl as she shoved the gun away. Loki leapt forward, grabbing Mancini’s wrist. He wrenched the gun hand forward, the blast defending when the gun went off. Loki’s other hand crushed the bones in the man’s wrist before Mancini could draw the blade across Lauren’s throat.

Mancini howled in agony, a gratifying sound, and dropped the knife.

Loki’s heart beat in his ears as he stared into Lauren’s eyes and held Mancini’s hands away from her.

She smiled. “I knew you’d come.” Then, her mouth opened on a pained gasp, and she looked down.

His gaze followed and time stopped.

Red was beginning to stain the white polka dots on her dress.

“No…”

“Loki…”

Pain ripped through her and into him, the searing agony of a bullet wound tearing apart her delicate flesh.

Loki lost the hold he had on his humanity when she slipped slowly to the ground at his feet, her hands going to the wound in her side. “What have you done?” he whispered, his gaze returning to the fear filled eyes of Mancini. “What have you done!?” he roared.

Manici screamed when the flesh beneath Loki's hands began to blacken. The screams didn't end until the black of necrotic skin crawled it's way up his throat and down his open mouth to freeze his lungs and stop his heart. Rage at the quick death filled him, and Loki threw the corpse at the wall where it shattered into chunks of ice and crystallized blood.

“Loki…” Lauren whimpered.

He dropped to his knees and tore the bonds from her wrists before ripping open the side of her dress. Though blood flowed freely, it appeared the bullet had only seared a deep gash in her side to which he quickly set his hand.

“It's alright, darling. Just a flesh wound. You'll be alright,” he promised, his magic healing the worst of the damage, and pulled her into his lap as gently as possible where he rested their foreheads together. “But don't you ever do something so foolish ever again!”

“You were…” she whimpered and tears began to flow, “takin’ forever.”

“I needed only seconds to hamper the gun! Seconds you didn't give me,” he hissed, clutching her to him. “I could have lost you, foolish girl! I could have… and I've only just found you.”

“I'm here,” she whispered and caressed his cheek, smearing her blood on his face. “Right here.”

“But you were taken and all because of one imbecile!” Loki snarled and lifted burning red eyes to George. Unwilling to leave Lauren for even a second, he sent an avatar of himself across the barn and ripped George from the ground where he was huddled behind his woman. “Coward! You think I won’t kill you where you stand?” He shook George like he was a doll.

“Loki,” Lauren called softly. “They took Darlene and his mama.”

He glanced at her. “Then he should have come to us! Six Avengers! He had ample time to approach any one of us and explain. Instead, he kidnaps you and Pepper.” Loki shifted his gaze back to Montgomery. “Be thankful I arrived before Stark. You took his woman as well.” Loki smiled maliciously. “Perhaps I should leave you for the Iron Man to deal with, but then we had a deal, didn't we, Montgomery? One you have now broken.” Loki lifted him high and pulled a dagger from the air.

“Stop! Please, stop!”

He looked at the woman still bound to the chair, tearstained and ugly. “You should not draw my wrath, woman. After all, you had a hand in these plans from the beginning. I had mercy once. I took pity for the unborn child in your womb. But my mercy is not without end!”

“Loki.” Lauren's hands cupped his face and pulled his attention back to her. “They killed his mama and daddy, right outside. Isn't that enough? Can this be enough killin’?”

He looked up from her to find Stark and Thor in one doorway, with Barnes, Natasha, and the Captain in the other. No one moved, but Lauren shivered, and he realized he had not released the icy cold rage around him.

“Please?” she whispered, bringing him closer with the gentle caress of her hands. “Please,” she breathed against his lips.

Her kiss was not but a brush of lips and a breath of air as the strength fled her body. Her shivers grew in earnest. The mild blue tinge to her lips took his breath, and the temperature immediately warmed.

His avatar disappeared and George fell to the ground.

“For you, beloved. Only for you,” Loki whispered, kissing her tenderly. He stroked his fingers over her throat, healing the deep cuts which still seeped blood, berating himself for not having seen to those sooner.

Stark and Natasha hurried toward Pepper. The snow turned to rain and began to pound down through the openings in the roof.

“Thor, must you?” Loki huffed, eyeing his brother who waved a hand at the roof.

The rain cut off, and the sky instantly cleared to reveal a bright moon, casting its silver light down on the last of the disappearing snow.

He cradled Lauren close and got carefully to his feet, holding her as if she were fragile glass. Death surrounded them, blood and bone and shattered limbs, but he walked out of the circle of it without looking back, striding smoothly toward the Captain and Barnes.

“God, Gilli!” Bucky burst out when they got closer, his hand closing around her outstretched one.

“I'm alright. Or at least I will be.” She gave both soldiers a wan smile.

“Do I need to ask if this was necessary?” Steve asked, eyeing the bodies left behind before turning his focus to Lauren. Her appearance apparently qualified as an answer when Steve's face hardened and he muttered, “Never mind.”

“How's Pepper?” Lauren asked when Tony appeared, packing a groggy Miss Potts in his arms.

“Woosy, but there’s not a scratch on her,” Tony said, his mask popping up.

“She helped me stay calm… when it was happenin’,” Lauren murmured. “She didn't panic. She knew you'd come. The tracker in her watch. Just like I knew… Loki... would...” Lauren’s voice trailed off, her head lolled, and she went limp in his arms.

“Gilli!” Bucky gasped.

Loki wrapped her in his magic and checked her over. “She's alright. It is a combination of blood loss and the cold. She is exhausted and we are leaving.”

“What of this one, brother?” Thor asked his hand on the back of George’s neck.

“He broke faith with the God of Mischief. Unfortunately, I have an Ástvinur with a kind heart.” He locked gazes with the cowering Montgomery. “Though that will be your last bit of luck for the rest of your days. She grants your life. Remember that. As to what to do with him… let him go. He has his own dead to bury. The blood of your parents, it is on your hands.”

Loki looked down at Lauren, still bloody, still bruised, and then up at the star-bedecked sky. “It is time for us to leave.” He wanted the comfort and security of Asgard’s stone walls around the woman who was his heart for a while. A safe place where she would be protected. “Will you see to the rest? Her family, the children? Let Svengil know she is safe so her Gran won’t fret, and watch over her cat while we are gone?”

“We will,” Bucky promised, but they all nodded. Already, Natasha was in contact with SHIELD to deal with the mess.

“You have my gratitude,” Loki murmured as he and Thor walked a little way into the night and turned to face their teammates.

“It is odd,” Loki murmured.

“What?” Thor asked.

“I do believe I will miss… our... friends.” Loki looked at Thor and couldn't help but smirk at his brother's wide grin.

Thor laughed before looking at the sky. “Heimdall! The prodigal son returns!”

The Bifröst opened, but Loki looked down at Lauren and held her just a little tighter. “Let us go home, my love.”

Home. To Asgard. He could not wait to show her the wonders of his realm. The rest - her sister, the children - it would all come in time for the Norns were far more benevolent than he had ever believed.

He placed a tender kiss on her forehead and let the magic sweep them away.

-Thus ends Balance on the Head of a Pin. Join me for their next adventure, Of Blood and Roses, starting soon. Follow the library blog and never miss another update on any of my works. @tilltheendwilliwrite-library.  Thanks!-