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ginnsbaker · 1 year

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In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships - Epilogue

Summary: A glimpse into the rest of your life with Wanda Maximoff.

Word count: 2.3k+ | Warnings: None; Just Fluff | Ship: Wanda x Reader

Author's note: We officially come to a close! I'd like to take this opportunity to thank each and everyone of you who read, liked, commented, and reblogged this story. This is my first time completing a multi-chapter fic and I couldn't have done it without you. You guys will always have a special place in my heart. Truly, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. I'll keep writing--my request box is open :)

Series Masterlist

Epilogue

Ten Months Later

Montauk, especially in winter, looks as if it's straight out of a postcard.

For as long as you can remember, Montauk is the only place that's felt like home. And you've shared it with the woman who's known you even before you took your first breath in this world. But now, there are days when she doesn't recognize you, days when she cries out in fear thinking you're an intruder, when she tearfully calls for her own mother or searches anxiously for her late husband.

The merciless grip of Alzheimer's is steadily robbing her from you, and time seems to draw out the process in a cruel, agonizing manner.

Wanda is there for you though, through every difficult moment. She is your rock when you feel like crumbling, your light in the darkest moments. You are both staying in Montauk for some time now, taking care of your mother. Your mother sometimes recognizes her, and she’s remarkably warmer to your ex-wife more than you can remember. You think, perhaps, it has something to do with her memories that are slowly wilting away, and all that is left is the love she’s always held back for the other woman in your life.

One evening, as snowflakes start to gently fall from the sky, Wanda gets the sudden urge to take a walk. After some persuasion, you find yourself pulled out from the inviting warmth of the bed you've been sharing, grumbling while putting your layers of clothing back on to indulge Wanda in her whimsical idea.

Hand-in-hand, you set off just as the sun begins its descent, painting the horizon with streaks of indigo and pink. Snowflakes settle on Wanda's hair, turning her fiery locks into a winter wonderland. She smiles, her green eyes sparkling with the reflection of the dimming twilight.

You soak in the sight of her, the love of your life, aglow in the beauty of the snowy evening, committing it to memory.

An old park lies ahead, its swings and benches blanketed by the fresh snowfall. Wanda leads you to the swing set, her laughter carrying through the chilly air as she plops down on one of them. You take the swing beside her, the frosty metal biting through your clothing, but you don’t mind. The sight of Wanda, her face flushed with cold yet bright with joy, is worth braving the winter chill.

As the swing set gently comes to a halt, Wanda nudges you, pointing towards a row of trees in the distance. “Look over there,” she says, “Do you see that?”

You squint at the snow-laden branches, trying to decipher what she's referring to. While you're absorbed in your futile search, Wanda quietly slips off the swing, her heart pounding in her chest. She swallows hard, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves. As you turn back to her with a puzzled look, ready to ask what you were supposed to see, you find her on her knees in the fresh snow, looking up at you with an earnest gaze.

She reaches into her pocket, pulling out a small, velvet box. With a quick flick of her wrist, she pops it open to reveal a simple yet stunning ring nestled within.

“Will you marry me?”

Your heart stutters at the sight of Wanda's hopeful gaze. For a moment, everything seems to stand still. Snowflakes suspend their descent, the air holds its breath. With a lump in your throat, you utter a word you never thought you'd say in this moment.

“No.”

Shock registers on Wanda's face, her eyes wide and vulnerable. The world seems to crash around her, the word echoing ominously in her ears. But then, before she has a chance to fully comprehend what's happening, you're sinking to your knees in the snow beside her.

“Because,” you begin, laughter choking your words even as tears track down your cheeks. You fumble in your pocket, pulling out your own small box. You pry it open, revealing a gleaming ring nestled within. “Because I want you to marry me.”

The world, previously paused, starts up again in a rush of sound and color.

Laughter bubbles up from within you, filling the silence, mingling with the tears streaming down your face. Wanda stares at you, stunned into silence, her tears mirroring your own.

“Yes,” she breathes out finally, her voice choked with emotion. “Yes, yes, yes.”

In the stillness that follows, you gently take her hand, slipping the ring onto her trembling finger.

You look up at her, your heart in your eyes. “Yes, Wanda, I'll marry you,” you whisper.

Wanda's fingers are ice-cold, trembling with adrenaline, when she reaches for your hand, your ring. Her focus is so intense as she slips it onto your finger that it feels as if everything else has fallen away.

Without wasting a moment, Wanda lurches forward, lips finding yours in a kiss, full of passion and relief. The chill of the snow around you seems to dissipate as your mouths move in a rhythm perfected by time and familiarity. Every small shift, every pressure, the way she tugs at your lower lip, the way you reciprocate by pulling her closer by the waist, it all stokes a warmth that radiates from your core, spreading outwards, rendering the winter air irrelevant.

The soft moan that escapes Wanda against your lips fills you with a satisfaction, an overwhelming sense of rightness that even the best of days prior to this moment had not quite achieved.

Like all beautiful things, the kiss comes to an end. She pulls away, her breath ghosting over your lips as she whispers, “Yes,” echoing your sentiment. “Yes, you will.”

Year 2

A year later, the smell of antiseptic and the sterile white walls of a hospital room are your surroundings. You lay exhausted on the hospital bed, swaddled in a light hospital gown, holding the newest addition to your family.

A baby girl.

Yours and Wanda’s.

She is swathed in soft pink blankets, her tiny face peering curiously at the world she's just entered.

Overwhelmed, overjoyed, and slightly terrified, Wanda is darting around the room, fretting over everything and anything. Her brows are furrowed as she questions the nurses on the baby’s feeding, changing, swaddling. She's always been meticulous, but her anxiety seems to be on a whole new level today.

Meanwhile, she's constantly checking up on you too. A wet cloth to dab your sweaty forehead, a soft kiss to reassure you, a gentle squeeze of your hand. Each time she asks if you're okay, if you need anything, if you're feeling too tired or too overwhelmed.

Her voice is a touch higher than usual, her movements slightly rushed. It's all too adorable, you think. The endearing sight of Wanda fussing over you and the baby brings a soft smile to your tired face.

Wanda’s gaze alternates between you and the tiny bundle in your arms, as if she’s afraid that this is all some dream that she would wake from.

“You're doing great, love,” you reassure her in a voice hoarse with exhaustion, but filled with so much love and admiration for this woman. Your woman. You wouldn’t trade her frantic behavior for anything else.

“Do you want to hold her?” you ask Wanda, lifting the baby slightly from your chest.

Wanda freezes at your question, her eyes flickering from the tiny face peeking out from the swaddles and back to you. She seems to be calculating the risk of her holding something so precious and delicate. She bites her lip nervously, her hand absently wringing together.

“I'm... I'm afraid I might hurt her. She's so small,” Wanda murmurs, almost too softly to hear.

A soft laugh bubbles up from you, finding her concern endearing. With your free hand, you tenderly take hers, squeezing reassuringly.

“Wands, love, she's our daughter. She already knows you and she wants her mom. Come on,” you encourage her, your voice soft but confident.

With a deep breath, Wanda nods. She gingerly slips onto the bed beside you, her arm tentatively reaching out. Her hand hovers over the baby's tiny form, her fingers trembling slightly.

Seeing her hesitate, you gently place the baby into Wanda's waiting arms. The moment your daughter is cradled in her arms, Wanda's eyes fill with unshed tears. Her gaze is locked on the little face looking up at her.

She's silent for a moment, just looking down at the tiny, squirming bundle in her arms. You watch as she traces her finger lightly over your daughter's chubby cheek, her touch feather-light as though she's handling a priceless piece of art.

“She's... She's beautiful,” Wanda finally whispers, her voice choked with emotion. You watch as a single tear escapes, trailing down her cheek.

“She has your eyes,” you say softly, leaning against Wanda's shoulder.

Her response is a watery laugh, and she turns to press a kiss on your forehead. “And your nose,” she retorts, a teasing lilt to her voice. “I didn’t know it was possible to be even more in love with you,” she adds, looking into your heavy-lidded eyes.

As you look at Wanda holding your daughter, overwhelmed with love and emotion, you think that there can't be anything equally perfect as this moment.

Year 4

Something equally as perfect comes two years later.

You and Wanda return to your new apartment in Manhattan, this time with a little more noise, a lot more love, and two new family members in tow.

The eighteen arduous hours of Wanda's labor are still fresh in your mind. The anxiety and fear you felt, the helplessness, as you watched her endure the pain, fighting for every breath, are experiences you would never forget. For a moment, you feared for her life, but Wanda, as always, proved to be a force of nature. She battled through, delivering the twins normally. Your two-year-old daughter has just been promoted to big sister status, with the arrival of her twin brothers, William and Thomas.

Wanda, holding Billy, looks at you over the top of his little head. Her eyes are bright, tired but excited. You carry Tommy, his tiny hand gripping your finger, and his weight in your arms feels like the most natural thing in the world.

Despite being outnumbered by your kids, you and Wanda are no novices now. With one child already, you've learned the ropes of parenthood, even if juggling the needs of three young children is still quite the adventure.

Looking back, you can't help but wonder. If things had been smoother, easier, would you still end up here?

Sure, life has thrown you a few curveballs. But those curveballs brought you to this moment, to this feeling of complete and utter happiness.

You wouldn't change a thing.

Because this is it. This is your perfect. This is the beautiful chaos of a big family you and Wanda have created together. And you wouldn't trade it for the world.

This moment is everything you ever wanted.

Year 35

You both retire to a charming little town on the east coast, away from the relentless hum of city life. The house is a modest one, its size perfect for two people entering the golden years of their life.

It's a quiet evening when you find yourself sitting in the bathtub, the warm water soothing against your aging muscles. The bathroom door creaks open and in walks Wanda, unadorned and as beautiful as the day you met her. You watch as she undresses, each wrinkle and mark a testament to the years you've spent together. The sight of her, the raw display of strength, beauty, and age, leaves you breathless.

She eases herself into the tub, the water rising as she settles across from you. Your legs brush against each other, a touch that still sends warmth spreading through your veins. Her eyes, the same captivating pair you lost yourself in more than four decades ago, meet yours and your heart does a familiar dance.

Wanda raises an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth quirking up in a teasing smile. “You have that look again.”

“What look?” you feign innocence, though a mischievous glint gives you away.

“That look as if you're seeing a young woman, and not the one who's been trying to get a senior discount for the past few years,” she quips.

You chuckle, leaning closer, the water ripples between you two as you do. “Honestly, after all this time,” you whisper, fingers tracing the back of her hand submerged in the water, “I can't help myself.”

She playfully rolls her eyes, her cheeks tinted with a hint of a blush that reminds you of her younger self. “Ever the charmer,” she murmurs, her voice betraying the flutter of excitement she still feels from your compliments, even after all these years.

“You may have a few more lines here and there,” you whisper, your eyes taking in every beautiful detail of her face, “But to me, you're as breathtaking as the day we met. Time can't change the way I see you, Wanda.”

With deliberate slowness, you lean in, pressing a delicate kiss to her lips. As you pull back, you see the warmth in her eyes, the soft smile playing on her lips, and you feel an old, familiar urge.

Your next kiss is deeper, more insistent, and your hand finds its way to her waist, pressing her closer. Her laughter bubbles up, breaking the kiss momentarily as she playfully swats your wandering hand away.

“You really still find this,” she gestures to herself, “Desirable?”

You lean back slightly, taking in her form with a deliberate, exaggerated slowness, your gaze wandering from her face to her feet and back up again. “Every inch.”

She gives you a mock exasperated look, but the smile that's trying to break through belies her true feelings. “You and your words,” she mutters, pulling you closer by the nape of your neck, her fingers tangling in your damp hair. “Do they ever run out?”

“Not when it comes to you,” you reply earnestly, your lips hovering just above hers. “Never when it comes to you.”

Making love isn't as easy as it once was, with bodies grown old and not as supple.

But your love for Wanda—if anything, is stuck in time.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #ifiss 2 #ilgoss #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction

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justabrunettewhowrites-stuff · 8 months

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'As Icy As A Winter Wonderland'

Clarisse La Rue x Unclaimed!Fem!Demigod!Reader

A/N:Rq'd by one of my friends - specific rq so the color focuses on what she requested <3

Reader is new at CHB and has heterochromia - blue eyes with central heterochromia.Short fic!

In the heart of Camp Half-Blood, where demigods found solace and camaraderie, a new presence stirred the air. Unclaimed yet, with eyes that held the frosty allure of a winter's dawn,you stood at the edge of the training grounds,observing the seasoned campers in their element.

Clarisse La Rue, the fierce and fiery daughter of Ares, was in the midst of a sparring session. Her piercing gaze swept across the crowd until it collided with your captivating eyes. A momentary pause ensued, as if the fates themselves had intertwined, and in that instant, something unspoken sparked between you.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow on the camp.Clarisse, never one to shy away from her feelings, approached you with a determined stride. Her eyes met yours, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze as the intensity of your gaze met the fire in hers. Without hesitation,Clarisse broke away from her training and approached you.The shadows danced in her determined eyes as she spoke, a hint of vulnerability beneath her tough exterior. "Never seen eyes like yours before. What's your deal, newbie?"

Your gaze met hers, a blend of icy blue, with a mesmerizing blend that came in a circle around your pupil - the same gorgeous chocoloate brown, revealing the intricate tapestry of your lineage,one which gave your gaze an otherworldly depth, like the frost-kissed surface of a winter pond. In that moment, Clarisse felt a magnetic pull, a connection she couldn't quite explain. "Just waiting to be claimed, I guess."

Clarisse's lips curved into a half-smile, a rare sight from the battle-hardened demigod. "Well, aren't you a mystery? Keep those eyes sharp, new kid. This place has its secrets."

As she spoke, a rare vulnerability crossed her face. "You're different, and I don't say that lightly. We're not all rainbows and sunshine here, but something about you... it's intriguing."

As the night unfolded, you found yourself drawn into the fabric of camp life, where the shared stories of heroism and heartbreak echoed through the bonfire-lit air. Clarisse lingered nearby, occasionally stealing glances, and it became evident that an unspoken connection had woven its way into the tapestry of fate.

In the quiet moments, beneath the celestial canopy, Clarisse confessed, "Your eyes tell a story, and I'm damn curious to unravel it. We'll see who claims you,but for now?You're not walking away from me that easily."

For the first time, Clarisse - whose heart was guarded like a fortress, felt a crack in her defenses. The winter wonderland within your eyes seemed to cast a spell, thawing the frost around her heart...

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palioom · 10 months

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sweet, sweet icing

summary: dieter is decorating the cookies you baked with a very special kind of icing

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader word count: 2.0k warnings:18+ content; no use of y/n ; baking; oral (m receiving); cum eating; established relationship; facial (not the beauty kind)

a/n: the first of my little "kinkmas" collection - one christmas/winter themed fic for every advent

• masterlist •

It was chilly out, the wind whirling snow up against the frosty windows, howling as it passed by. People dressed in thick layers were hurrying home to get out of the icy cold, illuminated by the beautiful lights placed throughout the city.

A world so unlike their apartment - warm and cozy, full of string lights and silly little Christmas decorations. Reindeers and Santas and glowing stars hanging from the ceiling, almost seeming like a wonderland of some sort.

The smell of freshly baked cookies hung in the air, wafting into every room from the kitchen where the still warm cookies laid on the countertops, ready to be decorated.

It had been her doing, taking all morning to prepare the dough, using all kinds of different cookie cutter forms to shape them before finally baking them. She loved the baking part, enjoying the silence in the kitchen while Dieter still slept. He would only try to eat the dough and mess with her otherwise – she had learned that really quickly the first few times she had tried to bake with him present.

But Dieter loved decorating cookies. They always ended up looking like an LSD trip gone wrong, as well as less than family friendly sometimes, but he really enjoyed doing it. It was an outlet for his creative side and even though there were less cookies than before he had entered the kitchen, she gave him full reign over it.

Like now, hearing him hum along to some music before it was cut off by a brief laugh, while she sat on the sofa, hot chocolate warming her hands, just watching some random Christmas movie. She would go and keep him company, but the mess he created just annoyed her, preferring to see the finished results once he had cleaned up.

Because when Dieter decorated anything in the kitchen it tended to go just like when he was painting – colour everywhere, spilled icing turning the kitchen counters into a sticky nightmare that all the other chocolate chips and sprinkles and sugary forms clung to.

So, exactly what one would expect of Dieter.

Behind her, she could hear some grunting coming from him, but she ignored it. Figuring he was doing God knows what. Maybe picking up some things he’d knocked over or searching some cabinets for more things to slather onto the baked goods.

She couldn’t wait to see what he had done this time around and she wished she had taken just one cookie for herself before retreating onto the sofa. Oh well, her hot chocolate would do for now.

Eventually, the noise behind her completely vanished as she concentrated on the movie, barely noticing when Dieter appeared in the living room.

“Babe, they’re done.” His voice pulled her away from the TV, eyes flying over to where he was walking towards her. Baggy shirt hanging off his broad shoulders, the area around the belly stained with all sorts of colourful things. She was sure that his loose pants also bore some marks of his wild adventures in the kitchen, but she couldn’t really see on the already wild pattern. The underside of his nose was dusted with powder, and she really hoped it was anything but coke. “They’re so fucking good.”

She laughed, eyeing the colourful cookies on the plate he held in one hand, looking just like she had expected them to. They were crazy, for the lack of a better term, but not messy. There was a certain method to how Dieter worked, both on set and when being creative here at home, and decorating cookies was no exception.

To a new eye, the weird shapes on some seemed random and applied without care – colourful swirls and zig zags and dots, seemingly random colours drawn onto the shapes of Santa and Christmas trees and reindeers.

But she could recognize some patterns, like from his pants or previous paintings he had made while high as a kite. She swore she could even see some shapes in them, objects that got lost in the assault of colours.

Or maybe she had just lost her mind after spending so much time with him.

There were a few remarkably plain ones, too. Just all green or all white, no sprinkles or anything else added to them.

“They look awesome, Dee!” She said, taking one cookie in the form of a star, drowning in orange and yellow swirls.

He looked like a little kid as she took a bite, all excited, biting his bottom lip in anticipation. Maybe he was a little too excited, making her laugh after she finished the cookie.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

With his dishevelled hair and the sheepish grin, it almost looked like he had been up to something.

Did she even want to know what it was?

Maybe he had completely ruined the countertops this year? The floor? Or maybe even the ceiling?

She remembered one year where he had somehow managed to cover the kitchen ceiling in colourful specks.

“Just excited for you to try ‘em!” Dieter said, taking a plain white one, holding it out to her. Looking so sweet, yet naughty. “Take this one.”

She sighed, shaking her head with a laugh. “I want one of those with sprinkles.”

The plain one would just be boring icing, and she really had her eyes on the ones littered with sprinkles. Or the ones where Santa had his pants down, complete with a tiny dick drawn onto it.

Who else was gonna come up with this other than him?

“Nah, this one first, babe.”

Relenting, she leaned forward to take a bite from the cookie he still held out to her. Expecting more of the sugary taste of the icing, but finding no sweet taste, beside the cookie itself.

In fact, it tasted rather… salty.

Dieter’s eyes glinted mischievously as her eyes shot up and found his, widening just slightly as it dawned on her.

He hadn’t seriously-? No, he couldn’t have.

The noises made sense now. All the grunting and giggling.

“Dieter?” She asked with a small laugh, her hand coming up to her mouth as she chewed. He really looked like a kid that had done something really bad which he found joy in regardless. “Oh my God, are you serious?”

Dieter laughed too now, deep and warm, shrugging his shoulders with that same sheepish smile on his face still..

“Surprise flavor, babe.”

Yeah, he absolutely was serious. The idea had come to him after he had actually spilled some of the icing over the counter, watching it drip down onto the floor, it really had taken his mind elsewhere.

Elsewhere being the mental image of his cum trickling out of her fucked out pussy, his cock twitching at the thought. To be fair, he had tried to resist the mental image for a while, cleaning up what he had spilled before he continued drawing onto the cookies.

But his dick ached and the thought of jerking off onto some of these pretty little shapes before feeding them to her just wouldn’t leave him alone.

So, he had done it. The mental image of her eating them was enough to make him feel hot, then he thought about getting caught doing it by her. Biting his fist so he wouldn’t be too loud and make her suspicious, he came all over a few of the sweet treats in almost record time, quietly laughing.

To his surprise, she ate the second half too, grinning around it as she did.

“You got any more of that icing?” She asked, and just the tone of her voice made his dick twitch again. Her hands wandered below the hem of his baggy t-shirt, nails lightly scratching over the soft skin of his belly before finding the waistband of his pants.

Now this he hadn’t expected.

“Mhmm, I don’t know, baby.” Dieter said, putting down the plate of cookies onto the table next to him. “Wasted it all to make these for you, but maybe I have some left just for you.”

She giggled, biting her bottom lip as her thumbs hooked into the band of his pants and pulled them down to reveal his still soft dick. Of course he wasn’t wearing any underwear at home.

Easy access, he called it.

Scooting closer to the edge of the sofa, she ducked her head, sucking one of Dieter’s heavy balls into her mouth, hearing his breath hitch above her. One of her hands wrapped around his dick, slowly hardening in her palm as she played with his balls.

Dieter’s fingers curled into her hair, holding it back in a makeshift ponytail, watching in fascination as she licked and sucked at them with a low hum, grinning when her eyes found his.

This definitely was a better outcome than what he had imagined – having her laugh at his prank before getting mad that the kitchen looked like an absolute fucking mess.

Not getting him hard so she could suck his dick.

“You really like that icing, huh?” He asked with a lopsided smirk, watching how she took his half hard cock into her mouth while her hands continued to fondle his balls.

She nodded, getting wet at the feeling of him hardening in her mouth.

“Gonna be my own personal cookie to decorate?” Dieter asked, his hips rutting forward. Her mouth just felt too good, her tongue swirling around the head and sucking on it. “Fuck, you’re sweet like one.”

A short laugh left her before she took more of him into her mouth. “Yeah, gonna be your cookie, wanna be dripping in your icing.”

Dieter laughed, too, his hips canting up in time with the bobbing of her head, his groans becoming louder as he thought about his cum all over her face. Thick, white streaks painting her cheeks and lips.

Practically begging for it with those pretty eyes, he was unable to drag this out particularly long.

No, he had to decorate just one more.

“Gonna make you look like a cinnamon roll.” He rasped, his hips speeding up and seeing her become more frantic. “All sticky and sweet and, fuck-”

Spit dribbled down her chin as her lips released him with a small pop, her hands now wrapping around his slick length and pumping him. There was that lip bite again, stroking him right over her face with those eyes that just challenged him to cum all over her.

“C’mon, Dieter, I need your icing.” She whined, her brows knitting together in desperation as her hands worked him faster. “Please, baby. We can make some cream pie after, too.”

Oh, fuck.

Her words pushed him right over the edge, a whiny sound crawling up his throat as his cum shot all over her face and waiting tongue. Rope after rope, all while she kept stroking him to get to every last drop with a low, approving hum.

Sucking the tip into her mouth again after, just to make sure that she got all of the icing he had to spare, even when her tongue on his soft head threatened to overstimulate him.

“My favourite kind of icing.” She giggled, licking her lips before smacking them. The way Dieter looked down at her was both adorable and hot, almost like he was a kid that just got the best gift ever. “I’m so happy you still had some left for me, Dee.”

Snapping out of his trance of admiring his decorating work, he laughed, bending down to kiss her. Stealing all the air from her, based on her breathy laugh as he pushed her back onto the sofa, crawling over her.

Not minding the mess at all.

“Now I’m really interested in that cream pie.” He groaned as his tongue slipped against hers, tasting both the cookie and his cum on it. “Let me help with that.”

Her laughter turned into a moan as his thick fingers wandered into her sweatpants, all muffled by his mouth.

Baking definitely was her thing, just as decorating the goods was his.

There was no better way to get into the Christmas spirit than this.

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #the bubble #kinkmas 2023 #my writing #pedrostories

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joels-shitty-puns · 9 months

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Melt With You

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Reader

Summary: Based on this request! "Just a soft and romantic winter night besides the fireplace with kisses and long talks..."

Warnings: Fluff, kisses, cursing.

Word count: 1k

_____

You climbed into the passenger seat of Pedro's car, throwing the shopping bags in the back seat with a groan. Pedro turned the key in the ignition and immediately you clicked the AC on full blast, only to be met with hot air. “UGHHHH,” you grumbled angrily. “WHY IS IT SO FUCKING HOT!?!” You clipped your seatbelt in a rage.

The two of you had just gone holiday shopping in the middle of December, not that you could tell based on the weather. If someone didn't know the date, they'd think it was June. The midday heat was baking your skin, the thermometer in your boyfriend’s car reading 80° Fahrenheit. California had some exceptional views and often nice weather, making for some great beach days... But when it's December and all you hear on the radio are songs like “Let it Snow” and “Winter Wonderland,” it was hard to feel wintery when the outside didn't reflect that at all.

“I know, baby. It doesn't really feel like the holidays when we're out here melting,” he settled his hand on your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze.

The air conditioning had finally started to cool, along with your anger, and you gave a sigh. “I just want to sit by a fire with you and watch the snow fall outside the window,” you leaned your face into your palm, resting against the window. “It just doesn't really feel like the holidays right now.” Pedro turned his face away from the road to look at you briefly, reaching to take your other hand from your lap.

“Baby, I have an idea,” he answered you, kissing your knuckles.

_____

Two days later, you were packing a bag full of warm clothes, getting ready for a cozy weekend away in the California mountains. The drive was a couple hours long, but you were so excited to spend a relaxing weekend away with Pedro that you couldn't stop smiling. The radio buzzed away, playing holiday music, and before long, the station lost service through the mountain road.

“Sleigh bells ring, are you listening..” Pedro began, singing just above hearing volume into the now silent car.

“In the lane, snow is glistening…” you smiled at him, singing the next response.

“A beautiful sight, we're happy tonight,” he squeezed your hand, “Walkin' in a winter wonderland,” you harmonized.

Finally the two of you reached the house, a quaint little cabin off the main road, next to the forest. It was surrounded by thick pine trees freshly dusted with snow, and the flakes were starting to come down heavier now. Your grin spread across your face as you jumped out of the car like a child at the playground and instantly scooped up a snowball.

SMACK, you hit Pedro on his back with the fluffy ball, watching it explode into a mess of frost on his shirt. Pedro, who was unloading the bags from the trunk, turned in offense. “You did not just throw a snowball at me when I'm pulling your suitcase out of the trunk,” he laughed, immediately reaching down to scoop one up in defense. “And in the back, no less!” He threw the snowball directly at your chest, with a thump. “Like a coward,” he smirked, throwing a second snowball he had formed at the same time as the first.

You gasped in shock, “oh now you're gonna GET IT!!!” You quickly bent down to create another frosty weapon, but when you looked up, he had started to run away through the snow.

“And I'm the coward!?” You bellowed, your voice echoing through the mountain air.

You began to toss another ball, but before the perfectly aimed shot hit him again, he dove to the side in the snow, dodging it narrowly and hiding behind a tree trunk.

He let out an evil cackle. “Good luck getting me now, baby!” You saw him peek around the tree before bending down to scoop some ammo.

While he wasn't looking, you snuck closer, hiding behind a shed and running around to the other side for a sneak attack.

“Babe? Where'd you go?” Pedro asked loudly.

Jumping out from your hiding place, you charged him, throwing four snowballs at him, one after the other.

He screamed, snow in his mouth, his hair, his shirt, his pants.

“You DEVIL!” He laughed before jumping up and chasing after you, tackling you into the fluffy powder below.

The snow at your back was freezing through your coat and pants, but with his warm body on top, pressed into you, you felt nice and toasty. It quickly lit a fire into you, and you pulled the collar of his thick jacket down towards you, pulling him into a deep kiss.

“I love you,” you smiled, breaking the kiss.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” He pecked your lips gently. “Even if you do play dirty.”

“It's not my fault you suck at snowball wars,” you grinned, your teeth beginning to chatter as the snow seeped through your clothing.

“Let's go inside,” he rolled over, grabbing your arm and pulling you up with him.

You walked into the cabin, taking off your wet clothes and quickly changing into some sweats and a hoodie.

Pedro changed as well, throwing on a flannel and gray sweatpants. You stared, eyeing him from head to toe as he grabbed some logs and a lighter before starting a fire. The fireplace was next to the plush loveseat, a fluffy rug on the floor in front of it. The chimney was made of gray rock and was easily one of the most gorgeous fireplaces you had ever seen. With the fire finally roaring, you sat on the couch, grabbing a large, thick blanket. Pedro settled in beside you, leaning back and pulling you into his chest before tucking the blanket gently around your bodies.

“Thank you for this,” you sighed, tilting your head back to kiss his lips before leaning against his shoulders.

“I needed this too,” he replied with a smile, wrapping his arms around your body.

With the fire crackling a few feet away and your boyfriend snuggled tightly against you, you felt your temperature warming. But unlike the other day, this heat felt right. The two of you chatted and cuddled, kisses sprinkled throughout, before eventually falling asleep in each other's arms.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #a! wrote a fic #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x afab!reader #A! answers asks #A! answers requests #pedro pascal fluff

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perfectsunlight · 10 months

Text

LAST CHRISTMAS ⸺ HUH YUNJIN X READER

warnings: ANGST. (are we even surprised?)

word count: 1.9k

synopsis: last christmas, she gave you her heart.

when the air turned cold and the snow fell, huh yunjin remembered the day you broke her heart.

the snow crunched beneath her feet as she walked, footprints left behind with every step she took. winter was cruel, biting at her skin despite the layers of clothing she wore. the chill would hit her face, nipping at the rosy tint of her cheeks and leaving a burning feeling in its wake. her breath formed wispy clouds in the frigid air, dancing in the air before disappearing.

the world around her was adorned in a pristine white coat, the snow-covered landscape painting the perfect picture for december. the holidays were just around the corner, and the air was thick with anticipation for the holiday season with lights and trees decorated on every corner of the city. in america, she wouldn’t feel as lonely. but here in seoul, where couples were seen everywhere, her solitude felt magnified amidst the festive cheer.

the streets now seemed to mock her with their happiness. yunjin carried the weight of memories like a burden, her steps heavier with each passing moment. memories of your laughter intertwined with the wintry air haunted her. she could almost hear your voice carried by the chilly breeze, a reminder of the promises that had dissolved like snowflakes on her warm skin.

the snow continued to fall, delicate and ethereal, each one seemingly adding to the imaginary weight on her shoulders. the winter, once a season she adored, had turned into a relentless reminder of her heartache, and the person who caused it—you.

it was a stark contrast to the warmth and joy she once associated with this time of year.

she walked along the familiar path, the one she used to take with you, memories flooding back like an unwelcome guest crashing through the door. the storefronts adorned with festive decorations seemed to mock her with their joyous displays and festive ornaments.

as she trudged through the snow-covered streets, she couldn't help but recall the way your laughter used to fill the winter air, warming her soul even in the coldest of days.

“yunjin, stop it!” you laughed as she threw a snowball in your direction, watching the mound of white fall at your feet. you stood there, a smile illuminating your face, your eyes twinkling against the blanket that covered your surroundings.

with a mischievous glint in her eyes, yunjin playfully raised another snowball, ready to engage in the friendly battle that always brought warmth to the frosty air. the wintry scene around you transformed into a playful battleground, the two of you exchanging laughter amidst the snowy flurries.

in those moments, the chill in the air couldn't touch the warmth blossoming in her chest. the way you both reveled in each other's company made winter feel like a wonderland, and yunjin wished she could stay in this moment forever.

the playful banter continued, your laughter intermingling with hers, creating a melody that echoed through the serene landscape. the world seemed to slow down, frozen in time like a picturesque scene from a cherished memory.

but just as quickly as the laughter had filled the air, it vanished into the wintry abyss of the past. the memory dissipated, leaving her standing alone amidst the snow-covered streets, a bittersweet ache tugging at her heart.

she poked the inside of her cheek as she kept walking, doing her best to avoid bumping into couples holding hands and hugging along the sidewalk. the streets were adorned with couples, their warmth palpable as they shared tender moments that made yunjin want to vomit. doing her best to push you out of her thoughts, the american continued her solitary walk, her gaze fixed on the corridor decorated with greenery and festive lights.

her steps faltered for a moment as she passed by a nearby park, the flickering glow of a bonfire catching her attention. the barren trees and the ice skating rink set up in the middle of it felt like someone had struck an ice pick straight through her heart. yunjin's heart twisted and tugged as she was suddenly transported back in time, back to one of her favorite memories of you.

“yunny, stop!” you squeaked as the taller girl tried to let go of you, her laughter filling your ears as she gently pulled you closer. “baby, you won’t fall.” she said as gently as she could, trying to loosen your death grip on her bicep.

“look, there’s babies who are skating by themselves.” yunjin teased lightly as she pointed with her head towards the group of middle schoolers who were racing each other around the rink. the glow of the lights above you two casted shades of gold, green, and red across your faces.

you shot a quick glare at the girl, and out of pure muscle memory you let go of her bicep for a moment to shove her. however, you forgot that you were standing on ice with absolutely no ability to skate. your response was immediate, a swift glare followed by a playful shove—an instinctive reaction to her teasing.

however, in the split second of your playful retaliation, you forgot the ground beneath you was an unforgiving sheet of ice, devoid of any grip or stability.

with a gasp, you let go of the taller girl’s arm, reaching out in a futile attempt to steady yourself. but it was too late. your feet lost their delicate balance, slipping out from under you in a comical flurry of flailing arms and legs.

yunjin's eyes widened in surprise, her instinctive reaction to reach out and grab you halted by the sudden realization that she couldn't catch you in time. naturally, the american let out a laugh at the sight of you on your back, only to lose her own balance and land on top of you.

the two of you looked at each other and just burst out laughing, ignoring the cold of the ice and the bitter cold blowing in your faces. you rolled your eyes and giggled as you cupped the taller girl’s face. “that’s what you get for laughing at me.”

it had been a year since you walked away without a backward glance, leaving her to navigate the holiday season alone. yunjin shook her head as she quickly blinked back tears, snapping herself out of her thoughts as she fumbled with the buttons on her jacket. the blonde sniffled, whether from the cold or the sinking feeling in her heart.

the winter air clung to her skin like you used to. but both the weather and you now shared the same feeling now.

it was getting dark, and the american could feel her face going numb from the cold. it was christmas eve. she should be still at her friend’s place, drinking and being surrounded by her loved ones. yunjin wouldn’t admit it outloud, but all she could think about the entire time was you.

the last time she saw you was the night after chaewon’s christmas party last year. it was also the first time yunjin felt her heart being ripped out of her chest.

"i love you," she confessed, her heart laid bare as she gazed at you in the soft illumination of the porch light, your features partially hidden by the shadows cast from the faint glow.

for yunjin, it was a moment that held the weight of a thousand unspoken feelings, a culmination of emotions that she had kept tucked away, afraid of the vulnerability they exposed. her heart beat with a mixture of hope and trepidation, unsure of what your response might be.

in that fleeting moment, the world seemed to hold its breath, the cold air carrying the weight of her confession. she longed for reciprocation, for a glimmer of reassurance in your eyes, a sign that her love wasn't left unanswered in the wintry silence.

you had to feel the same way, right?

but as seconds ticked by, the silence stretched, heavy and filled with uncertainty. you remained shrouded in the shadows, your reaction slightly veiled by the darkness. the absence of a response pierced through yunjin's vulnerable confession, the ache in her chest deepening with each passing moment.

“yunjin,” you whispered, your breath dancing in the air as you watched the taller girl in the soft light. you had previously told the other girl the night before that you liked her back. but this felt different now. it was too much, too soon.

“i can’t do this. i’m sorry.”

with a heavy heart, yunjin swallowed the lump forming in her throat, the frigid air biting at her skin as tears welled in her eyes. yunjin's heart shattered at the sound of those words, the hope that had flickered within her chest extinguished by your gentle yet devastating rejection.

the wintry night bearing witness to the unraveling of emotions between the two of you. it felt like a cruel twist of fate, the contrast between the warmth of her confession and the coldness of your rejection leaving yunjin feeling exposed and vulnerable in the icy darkness.

the ache in her chest grew heavier, a constricting knot of pain that seemed impossible to bear. her heart, once brimming with love and hope, now felt hollow, drained by the weight of unreciprocated feelings.

yunjin's lips quivered, forming words she couldn't voice, her throat constricted by the weight of unspoken emotions. the bitter taste of regret lingered in the wintry air as she held back the tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

with a broken heart and shattered spirit, huh yunjin offered a feeble nod, her voice caught in a strangled whisper as she forced the rest of the air in her lungs out to form a response, "i understand."

as she stood there and watched you walk down the steps, enveloped by the wintry silence and gripping the perfectly wrapped christmas gift she had picked out for you. it was a silver necklace she had saved up for a few weeks for. she picked it out because it reminded her of you in every way.

but the christmas that should have been filled with warmth and love turned into a solitary ache in the midst of the darkness of december. yunjin dreamed of the perfect holiday with you, how she would kiss you in the fresh snow on christmas day. the tears on her face reminded her that reality was far from the dreams she had.

the salt water on her cheeks snapped her back to reality. december’s cruel chill of twilight reminded her that she was standing here in the cold and alone, tears on her cheeks and her nose running. the distant sound of christmas music playing from a nearby building added the only ambience to the otherwise silent evening. it was just another cruel reminder for the american.

she would forever remember this christmas the same way she remembered the last.

heartbroken, alone, and feeling colder than she did the night you left.

⸻

a/n: this entire month will be filled with angst from me idc 💅🏻

#─👤 sunlight speaks #huh yunjin x reader #yunjin #yunjin x reader #lesserafim #lesserafim x reader #angstcember #jennifer huh #jennifer huh x reader #angst #kpop #last christmas #perfectsunlight

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tadpolesonalgae · 11 months

Text

Azriel x third-oldest-Archeron-sister: Can’t Bring Myself To Wake You

A/N: surprise! It’s relevant!

Warnings: spiders mentioned briefly, Alice in Wonderland vibes 🍄, the hobbit vibes, Tim Burton vibes (Would recommend listening to this Tim Burton vibes playlist for Halloween)

Word count: 4,912

-Part 8-

Visual Prompt here!

It’s obviously a dream—the world isn’t right upside down.

It takes seconds to realise the error, flipping the correct way up. Reorienting itself to become seamlessly correct.

Leaves wilt from trees, disconnecting from branches then fluttering away to visit flower patches, eager to gather honey. Waters babble and converse, complaining about the distance to open ocean, how far there’s yet to go.

Quiet footsteps pad alongside a creek, water sausages perking up at irregular intervals—distanced and without discernible pattern.

He’s still so far away, the three stars in the sky your only guide, glittering like tiny sequins woven upon a thick, inky fabric. The kind that would have kept out the cold on frosty winter nights. Toes curl but you press forward, sun rising on the horizon, soaring to the sky, well above the treetops.

The forest shifts, rendered now in caramel and whiskey, shades of autumnal gold gilding the leaves. They crackle and crunch beneath your feet, but you attempt to keep to the path—getting fainter and fainter the further you go. Just like the dimming starlight. You’ll have to hurry your pace—you need to find him before the starlight winks out, and you aren’t keen on meeting the creatures kept secret by night.

Peer at the gentle wolf to your right, blue-grey eyes gleaming with interest, taking in the colours of the world. “How much longer do you think?” You ask quietly, not wanting to disturb her too greatly. Definitely not wanting to irritate the silver eyed wolf below you, keeping you aloft upon her back ever since your feet became too tired to go on. Months ago.

“Another few hours?” She chimes back, raising her snout to the air, inhaling the no-doubt sweet smells. “It’s difficult to say.” You sigh heavily, settling down into the fur, resigning yourself to the travel.

It feels like years pass as you trudge along, boots too worn to protect against the biting cold of the mud. Keep out the nipping frost that comes with early autumn. In the distance you can make out how the forest thickens, becoming denser—darker. Where the fouler creatures lurk, beneath the shadows of thick branches and behind gnarled trunks. A shiver rolls down your spine at the thought of entering. It’s not a friendly place.

“Do we really have to pass through here?” You ask, peering up at the thick tree-line, too little space between each one to be natural. Growing in a dense cluster, all tightly knit and wound in a patterned tangle.

The silver eyed wolf snarls softly, shaking out her mane, shifting upon her great paws—claws clipped at their tips. You take the hint, reluctantly sliding off, ragged boots sinking into the mud. “You pass through on your own,” she growls, not taking another step forward. “This is your journey. Not ours.”

Brows furrow, and you glance to your right, eyes locking with blue-grey. Animal lips part in a wolfish smile, showcasing gleaming white canines. “She’s right,” the wolf says, as gently as possible, a steady gleam in her sharp eyes. “We’ve had our tasks, now you need to complete your own.”

Heart weighs in your chest, again peering up at the looming forest. “I can’t make it through there,” you reason, returning your gaze to the blue-grey eyed wolf. “I don’t have claws, or teeth, or anything like you do.”

Her smile doesn’t fade, just nods to the forest, grin and foreboding. Above you, clouds gather into dark puffs of raw cotton, welling with rivers, rallying their forces.

The forest stretches before you, long and endless. It will be difficult to make out the stars from beneath the stuffy canopies. You’ll have to find a way to peek through the shrubbery in order not to lose your way. What sort of fate would await you were you to become lost? Infinitely walking in lines that never come to an end. Trudging for days on end without ever knowing the correct direction.

But rewards aren’t granted to the idle, and your prize is greater than any. So the trial must fit the goal. Equivalent exchange.

“Don’t lose your head,” the silver-eyed wolf barks, startling you from thought. “Remember, keep the sun to your left. And pay attention to any moss you see.” Swallow, but nod your head, cataloguing the information. “And if you’re ever cornered, there’ll always be another way out,” the wolf to your right reminds. “We don’t make homes without a second exit.”

You nod, awaiting the third voice. Gentle and reassuring.

“What are you waiting for?” The silver-eyed one barks, startling you. “The quicker you start, the sooner it should end.” Nod again, attempting to calm your heart, even out your breathing. Lightly clasp the small pouch of gifts at your hip, the pendant already adorned, twin daggers at your waist.

Begin the trek toward the centre of the forest, having to pass through it’s stomach before reaching the other side.

“Don’t lose your way.”

Picture the way her jaws smile, razor-sharp canines gleaming.

Step forward, swallowed by the thick darkness.

————

You’d been anticipating the lack of light, so it wasn’t much of a bother. The scent was damp, but nothing putrid. It was the weight that had caught you off guard. The bizarre heaviness that pressed down upon your shoulders with every step forward, as if attempting to drive you off-course.

Hours have passed since you last saw the wolves, yet they feel worlds away. Separated by the barrier of consciousness, left entirely to yourself. Confined to solitude. Spend your time counting cocoa coloured conkers, though they’re few and far between.

There are all sorts of oddities to be found, and you occasionally find yourself moving to stray from the path in favour of inspecting something glinting in the near distance. Other times it’s odd noises: the crackling of branches, or the scuffle of paws through leaves. Most unnervingly of all, the hairs at the nape of your neck haven’t lowered since you stepped foot in here, a queer other kind of weight causing your skin to prickle.

It’s lonely and quiet, yet you dare not make excessive noise, some hereditary instinct warning you from sound. Day and night are hard to distinguish, circadian rhythm gradually decomposing under the heavy dampness contained within the forest.

Leaves rustle again, a cold breeze trilling down the pronounced knuckles of your spine, skin slightly hollow, stomach groaning with the bone-deep ache of constant hunger. Eyes dart frenetically about your surroundings, but it’s too dense to see further than the third line of tightly-tangled trees.

Sticks snap to your left, crunching menacingly, the noise swallowed by the forest swiftly. Something could be walking alongside you, but unless it made itself known, you would be none the wiser. All sorts of creatures could be stalking your steps. The sky’s the limit in here.

A twig splinters, and you flinch, jumping back. Peer at the broken branch beneath your foot, laying almost deliberately across the path. Something growls from your left: a low, hushed sound. Ragged and hungry sounding. Desperate for food as you are. Gaze flits about, heart scuttling around your ribcage, arteries tangling to a lethal web. Ears twitch with vigilance, skin pebbling with caution. Nerves droning with warning as they have incessantly for these past few weeks.

“Hello, little lamb.”

Head snaps to the side, stumbling back a few steps as your eyes lock with whiskey and caramel.

A large fox peers from between the trees, snow-soft paws prowling silently as he slowly stalks forward, tall as a horse. Sharp, beady eyes glint with cunning, razor-sharp canines pronounced from his upper lip, snout protruding elegantly from his features. Distinctly vulpine. Six wire-like whiskers stick from his nose, sleek and gracious.

“What are you?” You ask, hand settling over your heart, calming the rapid beat. Finger the pendant at your throat, feeling the cool weight of lead resting atop your collar bones.

The tall fox prowls closer, removing himself from the lining of the trees, circling forward to be positioned in your pathway. “What’s a creature like you doing in a place like this?” He croons. You don’t belong here, his eyes read. Silver flickers in the back of your mind, spine straightening as you pull yourself together. “Just passing through. I’d like to be on my way.”

A cackled rasp drags from the beast’s throat—something that could have been a laugh. “Just passing through,” he repeats back, shifting forward. “A creature like you doesn’t enter the woods unless she has to,” he muses, caramel and whiskey piercing upon your form. “What’s so important you’re risking these depths?”

“A creature like me doesn’t enter the woods unless she knows she can survive,” you counter, flexing your hands at your sides, fingertips sparking. Interest flickers in his gaze, marking the unnatural glow. Colours that belong to the sky, not on earth. He hums absently, now taking in the rest of you: raggedy boots, small pouch at your hip, partially concealed beneath a midnight blue cloak. The pendant at your throat, a reassuring weight.

Become aware of how close he’s gotten, looming before you—dip your hands to your hips, tucking beneath your cape. “I’d like to pass now,” you say firmly, fingers clasping the hilts of the short weapons. “It’s been a pleasure speaking with you.” Make to move around him, but he steps into your way, jaws parting slightly in a gleaming grin.

“I don’t even know your name,” he reminds, “what can I call you?” Lips purse warily, his caramel and whiskey eyes gleaming with cunning. “Blue,” you answer.

“Blue?” He chuckles. “What a curious name.” Razor-sharp canines flash in a grin, snout curling as his lips pull back from his teeth. “You said you’re headed through the forest,” he states, eyes gleaming with predatory intent. “Allow me to join you.”

Brow narrows, fingers grazing the hilts of the short daggers. “I’m fine on my own,” you reply, reassured by the cool weight of the weapons. Animal lips quirk, amusement glittering in his irises. “It’s a dangerous place for a little thing like yourself,” he reminds, prowling from the path, circling around you. “Less than a mouthful for some of the creatures here.” He comes to a stop, peering down his elongated snout, “surely you aren’t naïve enough to turn down an alliance when it’s offered.”

“You’re offering protection?” You ask cautiously, gripping the pearly hilts tighter.

“How astute you are,” he croons.

Nose wrinkles with distain for the mocking tone. “What would you get out of it?” You ask, remembering the warnings you’ve been given. Teeth flash in a charming grin, “I find myself curious to what drives you through my home.” Eyes flick to your hands, no longer sparking with power. “What’s your secret?” He drawls, attention narrowing on your fingertips. “What magic do you possess that could possibly ward off the ancient creatures of the forest?”

“Why don’t you come and find out?”

Pupils narrow to slits at the challenge, instinct drawing him closer to battle, roaring for a hunt, aching for a brawl. “Daggers, and magic,” he muses, knuckles stiffening beneath your cloak—you thought they’d been concealed. “Close-quarters combat is rather gritty, don’t you find? I can’t imagine a creature like yourself enjoying picking flesh from beneath her nails.” Eyes helplessly flick to his sharp claws—seemingly clean. Swallow thickly. “What are you after?”

The smile turns vulpine, teeth flashing in the grey light. “It’s rare a new piece ascends the board. Natural to wish to inspect something so brand new.”

“I’m not a fool,” you reply calmly, fully gripping the daggers now. “Tell me what you’re really after. I’m not stupid enough to believe you’d offer protection in exchange for company, so what do you want?”

His grin doesn’t fade at the brazen accusation, instead appearing to sharpen. Prowls forward a step, stalking in on your territory. The daggers are free from your waist in an instant, pearly hilts gripped tight in your hands, the golden blades aimed for the great beast before you. “Stay there,” you demand, brandishing the weapons, fingertips sparking.

To your relief he stops in his tracks, hackles raising as they take in the gleam of your skin. “Now that piques my interest,” he drawls. “Your hands glow like the night lights. What else can they do?” He asks, thankfully remaining where he is. “Can they burn like star fire?”

Ease a breath into your lungs, understanding the exchange. “So you keep me protected, and learn about my magic?” His eyes sparkle with trickery, gleaming with guile. “For as long as you keep my interest,” he smiles, canines glittering under grey light. Pause for a while, considering. It’s unwise to enter into packs with these creatures, yet you stand little chance fighting off many of the ancient creatures.

Swallow thickly, then lower your blades. You could swear something passes through his eyes, but it’s gone before you can place it. “Fine. But you will truly protect me, and come to my aid should I need it,” you clarify, tacking on the extra details. He offers a charming smile. “Call my name, and I will come bounding,” he adds the fine particular.

Ease out a breath, then give your confirmation. Magic crackles in the air, stinging a circle around the base of the pointer finger on your left hand. A small band has appeared, inking its way in a tight loop. Peer at his own paws, spotting the darkened fur around the thumb of his right fist. The mark connecting you in a bargain.

Strangely, it doesn’t feel like he’s deceiving you. It’s not much to go off, not much to rely on. He’s probably had innumerable centuries to perfect this act, would be flawless at it by now. And yet…

And yet. It’s enough for you to believe him. Trust your gut, and it’s telling you he’s being sincere.

Strange indeed.

————

Cocoa coloured conkers hang high in the trees, peering down like giant eyeballs as you make the trek through the thick woodland.

The bizarre oddities became less and less frequent, no longer spotting strange, twinkling objects in the near distance, the sounds of other life dwindling, as if trapping you in a great glass bubble.

Days have passed, and each night he requests a show of your magic. The demonstrations are sparse, anxious not to allow him to look too closely. Whether you would like to admit it or not, he serves as perfect protection against the vast and vile malevolence that rests heavily in the dense air of the forest.

Sounds of muffled conversation float through the leaves, ears perking up. Feet ache from the long journey, a sign night should soon be coming to overlay the skies. Or at least, the time he’s picked for rest. The concept of daylight and sunrises are far off memories, kept for when the woodlands become particularly murky. Soon he’ll be requesting a new trick.

“What is that?” You ask into the silence, beginning to pick out the sounds from one another. The clinking of tea cups, the bubbling of stew, laughter tinkling like wind chimes—so alluring. Beckoning you towards the sounds. “Do you hear something?” He asks, keeping his gaze ahead. It’s mildly unsettling how a beast of his size can move with such stealth, hardly a swish of grass or a stray breeze brushing your ankles as he prowls onward.

“I find myself struggling to believe my hearing would be somehow superior to your own,” you reply, mouth quirking at its corners. His lips twitch above his canines, something you would have initially believed to be the opening movements to a snarl, yet have come understand as signs of amusement. “Tell me what you hear,” he responds instead, keeping his attention on the barely-there pathway.

Brow furrows, but you comply. “It sounds like laughter. From a few different people,” you begin slowly. “It sounds pleasant; jovial. Like they’re having fun.” Listen carefully, distinguishing the echo of metal on ceramic. “I think it’s a dinner party…” He huffs, mirth glittering in his eyes. Glance at him sidelong, scowling slightly, “do you not hear it?” Lips again twitch, some lights winking out in his gaze.

“I haven’t heard anything from this forest in centuries.”

Open your mouth to ask further, but he beats you to it. “We’ll be settling soon. Just a little further.”

“How do you know where good places to stay are?” You ask curiously, eyeing the woodland. “It all looks the same. You can’t possibly have it memorised.”

“What is memory in the face of immortality,” he muses lightly, continuing along the pathway. Feet ache with every step, as if bruises decorate your soles. Heels and toes blistering against the rough leather of the worn boots.

“There are signs, if you know where to look. Patterns of a sort,” he answers.

It takes a moment for you to remember the question, silence having settled in the meantime. Edge your way down the steep slope.

There isn’t much to do in the way of preparation, merely setting aside the small satchel you have, then selecting a root to curl against. His only rule for sleeping is you don’t light fires, so you make do with wrapping the midnight blue cloak tight around your body, and snuggling against the bark of a tree.

“What entertainment do you have planned for tonight?” He asks, settling on his stomach, paws the size of your old cooking instruments stretching before him, claws glittering beneath the stray strands of moonlight that have managed to weave their way through the wild tangle of branches. You shift in the dirt, nerves wriggling beneath the surface of your skin. The trick you’ve thought up is vague enough, but far closer to a raw demonstration than you’re truly comfortable with.

Swallowing, you move closer to him, holding your hands out before meeting his gaze. “This should really count for two nights, you know,” you grumble, palms facing toward one another, as though you were cupping a large vase. His sharp eyes twinkle with interest, snout resting atop a large paw. “Don’t disappoint me now,” he says, teeth flashing, “I might prowl off in the night.” You make a face, gradually having acclimatised to his strange menthols of communication.

Skin itches, fingertips burning faintly as they spark and glow, like frenzied embers of a fire. Soon enough, the green light evens out, no longer flickering. Ease in a deep breath, concentrating, blocking out the way your flesh tingles in response. Lines begin forming in the space between your palms, soft rays of blue-teal floating in the air. They wave gently, swaying languidly, a collection of three strains blowing in an invisible breeze.

Gradually, they increase in strength, growing taller, slimmer; becoming more refined. Compressing until they’re no thicker than leaves, glowing with the light of stars. You allow them to persist for moments longer before breaking the connection, something zapping beneath your fingertips in response, skin desiccated. “That’s all for tonight,” you say, calling his eyes to your own.

He’s silent, observing quietly as you tuck back into yourself, curling against the tree root.

“Come over here,” he calls, snagging your attention.

“What do you want?” You grumble, sighing as you get to your feet, stumbling over to him in the low light.

“Stay close tonight,” he says, eyes closed, resting his head over one of his paws. Your brows narrow, “I wasn’t planning on leaving.” Eyes pointedly flick to the dense forest, looking as unkind as ever.

A single eye cracks open, flicking up to you. Slides over to the tree, then back to you. Then he shifts, wrapping himself into a crescent shape, the kind animals do when they’re on their way to sleep. Snout nudges at your hip, pushing you into his side. Hesitantly, you follow, stepping over his hind legs, settling against the furry side of his stomach, wrapped between his front and back paws.

“This wood is riddled with magic,” he warns, tail wrapping round to meet his snout, sealing you in against his side. “It shows you what you want to see. Plays on your fears, and your hopes. Few things are real where this forest is concerned.”

“I know,” you hum, sinking into his warmth, feeling as familiar as wolf fur.

He huffs lightly, “no, you don’t.”

————

The night is thicker than usual when you wake, the clearing seeming smaller.

Shadows flick at your ankles, the darkness practically beckoning you deeper. They bring a sense of comfort, a home you yearn for, heart aching with desperation to have it.

Silently, as subtly as you can, you sneak from his form, stepping over his paw and tail, keeping your cloak wrapped tight. The cold is already seeping into your toes, but you stand fully, surveying the clearing.

Everything looks the same: the large tree with the gnarled roots, the fox-like creature that’s stilled curled in on himself, even down to the conkers high above.

Yet something’s not right. Plucking the strings of your mind, urging you to move.

Leaves rustle softly, as if disturbed by cat-soft paws, a creature slinking through the undergrowth. Thumb free the the twin daggers at your waist, gripping the pearl handles, gold gleaming dimly beneath the sparse shafts of moonlight. The air sucks at your skin, dry but heavy. Thick.

That strange feeling again washes over you, invisible hands urging you into the woods, to seek deeper. Jaws open to swallow you whole. Heartbeat increases as you step around the great beast, cloak swishing over the dirt, dragging reluctantly as you make your way to the edge of the clearing, peering deep into the forest.

A shadow shifts in the distance, slinking behind a sturdy trunk. Blood thrums in your ears, shadows gathering behind your legs, lulling you into compliance. Peer over your shoulder at the great creature, the band around your second finger itching. He’ll come for you should you encounter trouble. The bargain proves that much.

Inhale a deep breath, straying from the path.

Swallowed by darkness.

Blink warily, feet moving on their own as you step further and further in, digested within the all-consuming darkness. Vision fades in and out, things turning soft at the edges, feeling like you’re dying.

You push on, moving heavily through the forest, abandoning coveted safety for shadows in the night. Noises soothe your ears, reassuring you of your path.

Skin prickles with the weight of a pair of eyes, having you resurface from the haze. In a part you don’t recognise, moved almost unconsciously through the damp undergrowth. No conkers line the trees, and even your eyes struggle in the darkness. Insects crawl under foot, spiders scuttling between the cracks in tree bark, lurking in tiny, unreachable crevices.

Swallow thickly as you turn around, not recognising a thing.

Shadows skitter at your back, and your whirl on your feet, daggers out, their golden blades piercing the darkness.

Breath catches as a shadow emerges from the darkness, heavier than the rest. Begins to take shape, morphing into four, greatly powerful paws, midnight fur thick and silky. Leading up to create the tremendous torso of the beast, corded with muscle, fully grown and thrumming with lethal, sinister power. Leathery wings flare from its back, each peak tipped with a single talon, sharper than any blade you’ve seen. His head is smooth and elegant, distinctly feline, with piercing fangs pushing from his upper lip.

Hazel eyes stare back at you.

Seconds pass, lungs fluttering. Fingers tremble at the pearly hilts of his blades, shaking as you stare longer. Darkness lines his body, alive with tightly coiled tension, the epitome of virulent grace. Wreathed with devastating malignancy.

Vision blurs, weapons thudding dully as they fall from your hands. Take a shaky step forward, then another. Stumbling until you reach him.

Arms wrap up around his neck, tears spilling as you hear the steady beat of his heart. Feel it drumming out its rhythm onto your cheek as you press into his fur, crying heavily as his scent wraps around you. The crisp freshness of nightfall, followed by crystal clear clarity.

He’s here.

Before you.

Bury deeper into him, cloak almost blending you into his fur as his head lowers over your shoulder, soothing the quiet sobs that wrack your chest. Wings fold in tight, inhaling your scent, taking in the familiarity of it— “What is that?”

His question pulls you from your fall, stepping back to peer up into his eyes, so deep you could lose your mind trying to follow to their centre. “What?” You ask, hands resting where his front paws meet his torso, shoulders corded with muscle, unable to fully detach from him.

Nostrils flare, inhaling deeply, nosing at your throat, lowering down your front, lightly nudging at your stomach. Enough you have to yield a step, fingers cooling without his fur to warm you. “You smell of fox,” he says, tersely. Flush beneath his attention, unaccustomed to its piercing weight, looking elsewhere as dry fingers wring together.

“I met one,” you answer quietly, skimming the band on your pointer finger. “He’s kept me safe. So I could come find you.” Something flashes through his eyes as he stares down at you. Shift on your feet, anxiously. “He’s helped.”

The beast recoils slightly, taking a step back.

Attention snaps to him, locking with marginally widened eyes. Then they narrow, staring down at you. “This is your task,” he says, coldly, “you’re supposed to complete it on your own.” Peer up at him, taking a step forward, hands raising from your sides. He stiffens, but doesn’t move back. “I am,” you say desperately, “he’s just company. He’s not— I am doing this on my own.”

Shakes his head. “This is your journey,” he mutters, “not his.”

Vision tilts suddenly, a searing pain lacerating through your mind, as if someone’s taken a scalpel to your brain. Breathing becomes heavier as you press your fingers to your temples, colours blurring in and out, even as time passes in this state of unconscious.

“Foxes are dangerous,” he reminds gruffly. “They eat things like you. You mustn’t trust him.” Shake your head in denial, desiccated skin rasping as you wring your fingers together. “Not this one,” you try, peering up at him. “We have a deal. He can’t hurt me.” Hold up your left hand for him to see, ink clear despite the thick darkness that surrounds the two of you.

Hazel flecks with disgust, picking out the brand upon your index finger. “You bargained with that beast?” He hisses, backing up a step. Pain stings through your heart, guilt twisting in your gut. “No, you don’t understand. He offered me protection,” you manage, scared if you take another step forward, he’ll vanish out of repulsion. Leave you alone in the depths of the wood.

Alone and astray.

Lost.

Opens his mouth, but pain splits through your eyes, singeing flesh, charring skin. The forest presses in on you, crushing your mind beneath its cloying pressure. Time jerks forward, splitting you further from him, the small gap between you stretching to something painful.

You blindly stumble forward, hands outstretched as he’s pulled away, kept just out of reach of your desperate palms. Mud seeps into your boots, slippery cold freezing your toes, dirtying the midnight blue of your cloak. Tears spill as your heart spikes, unable to do anything but continue tripping over yourself in your haste to catch up to him.

The world flips, momentarily slipping out from under you as it switches with the sky, vision flickering in and out. The world grows fainter, like you’re being forcefully ripped away from something.

Pain stings deeper, striking at the soft, tender chambers of your heart.

Hazel eyes grow wide, pupils contracting as—

Lips part in a silent groan of pain, a metallic smell bursting across your conscious.

Green light flares, searing through the darkness, blazing from your hands as screams tear through the heavy blanket of night.

You stare down at your body, up from high in a tree, suspended from a branch above. The beasts lies still on the floor, skin steadily cooling. Silky black fur dampens upon the forest ground, breath rattling from his maw, wet rasping, gurgling in the night. Hands grasp and prod, fingers splaying in attempts to keep him together as he drains away in your lap.

The world flickers again, flashing in and out of sense until you’re slammed back into your body.

Skin feels sticky, hands cold and damp.

Images spark in and out of existence, surroundings dancing about you in a blurry taunt. A few stick out: a grassy slope, mist thick up the steep hill, the rocky face so sheer you’re forced to hands and knees to make the climb.

A clearing wreathed in web, moonlight spearing through the leaves, tiny blue spiders dripping from the canopy, fluttering along an invisible breeze.

A looming gate, constructed of bone, oozing malice, contained within the claws of something ancient and wicked.

Flashing over and over again: steep hill, swollen blue abdomen, brittle grey bone.

Lifeless hazel.

————

Sweat gleams, jerking from the night terror.

Lilac cotton slicked to sallow skin, soaked in cold dampness.

Silky hair cascades over shoulders, falling in rattails from terror.

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks

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#Azriel #azriel x reader #Azriel angst #CBMTHY #CBMTWY #Halloween #Halloween special #Azriel x reader angst #acotar #acotar au #CBMTHY au (kinda)#Alice in wonderland #the hobbit #🌌🌠

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akiragatr · 10 months

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#my posts #my polls #polls #christmas #music #I'm not implying that all of these are necessarily bad but I grabbed ones I personally think are overplayed

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illuminatedquill · 7 months

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Worship Me

A Sabine Wren & Ezra Bridger story

Story Summary: Tucked away inside their watchtower during a snowy night on Lothal, Sabine Wren and Ezra Bridger ponder the future and their relationship.

The beverage dispenser whirred and deposited the last of its contents - sweet, sweet hot chocolate - into the mug; Ezra watched the steam waft up from the dark brown ambrosia, bringing with it the tantalizingly sweet aroma that made his mouth water.

Even with the heating unit at max, the watchtower's interior was still chilly. Outside the temperatures were approaching near freezing and bringing with it fresh concerns of an early, bitter winter with its sleet and snow. But, for now, the snow was harmless and provided an endless frosty wonderland for all the children - and not an insignificant number of adults - to enjoy. Ezra took the fresh mug of hot chocolate in one hand and grabbed another less recently filled one in his other and moved to the watchtower's balcony.

His partner, Sabine Wren, was standing there. Wrapped in a comfy gray shawl - a gift from her departed master, Ahsoka Tano - she leaned against the railing, watching the snow drift lazily down. Just beyond, lit brightly against the snowfall, was Lothal's Capital City with its gorgeous array of spires and skyscrapers. Ezra smiled wistfully, thinking of all the families living in those towers, their children's faces pressed against the glass to watch the snow come down.

He remembered with a pang of melancholy of doing just that with his own parents, Ephraim and Mira, many years ago. Waking up to see the snow, riding a sled down the hills of Lothal's fields, scampering after the loth cats to find their hidden burrows . . .

"Enjoying the view?" Sabine called to him, jolting him out of his reminiscing. He blinked, re-focusing on her.

Even after all these years, she still took his breath away with her beauty. Sabine's hair had grown a little longer, the dyed orange tips just brushing the top of her shoulders now. He knew she wouldn't grow it any longer, purely for practical reasons, but oh how he yearned to see Sabine with longer hair. Underneath the shawl, she wore casual clothes: a bright orange tunic, yellow combat pants, and maroon boots. Once upon a time, he had teased that her outfit was similar in style to the one he wore during the Rebellion and had received a sharp poke in the side for his observation (but he had noted slyly that Sabine was blushing as she did so).

Playing it cool (ha ha), he replied, "Yup."

Smooth, he thought dourly. Very cool, Ezra.

Sabine snorted and took one of the mugs to sip at. "Charming as always, Ezra."

He batted his eyes at her in, hopefully, a smoldering fashion. "Hey, it's a part of the package. Prince Charming, that's me."

She choked on the hot chocolate.

Using his sleeve to dab at her mouth, he said, "That wasn't meant to be a joke."

In between gasps of air, Sabine choked out, "You're going to kill me with any more of whatever this is you're trying to do."

Ezra sighed and took her gently by the arm. "Let's just head inside."

Once Sabine had settled down, they settled onto the couch and wrapped a large quilt - a gift from Zeb and Kallus (with an apology note from Kallus about the quilt's clumsy construction but Zeb tried really hard, and he hadn't the heart to tell him otherwise) - around themselves. Sabine was sipping at Ezra's mug of hot chocolate, since he was the reason why hers had been spilled. Normally he would have protested, especially since it was his favorite beverage, but Ezra had learned long ago that certain arguments were futile with Sabine, so he gladly acquiesced.

They sat there in silence, just listening to the watchtower's gentle mechanical hum and the occasional mewling from Murley, who had taken up the usual perch at his favorite window.

Ezra closed his eyes and took in the ambience, enjoying the simple feeling of being at home and beside the person he loved the most in this galaxy.

. . . And trying to ignore the fact his hands were shaking ever so slightly.

Sabine set down her mug on the table in front of them. He felt her turn towards him, leaning in close, her warm breath tickling his ear . . .

"Your hands are shaking, cyar'ika," she said quietly.

Ezra's eyes opened as he grimaced. "You caught that," he said glumly.

Sabine arched an eyebrow at him. "You can't hide anything from me, Ezra," she replied. "We're partners."

Ezra shrugged off his side of the quilt, glaring at his traitorous hands. "I don't know why they're doing that," he confessed. "It's been happening more and more lately."

She cocked her head at him, thinking. "Not during our missions," she said. "Only when we're home."

"Yeah," he said. "You think they'd be acting up while we're fighting off pirates or negotiating trade disputes or any number of stressful situations we've been in . . . but no. Just whenever we're home."

Sabine gently grasped his shaking hands. They stilled in her touch. "It's fear, I think," she surmised, studying his face. "And something more."

Ezra frowned at her. "What am I scared of when we're home, safe and sound, alone together?"

"Talk it out. Let your thoughts flow along with your feelings, cyar'ika."

Ezra sighed. "Okay," he replied. Closing his eyes, he reached out to the Force for calm and just . . . listened to himself, breathing in and out. He felt Sabine's presence beside him - a constant fierce light, radiating love and belief and support -

The quiet.

He opened his eyes, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck raise unsettlingly. "That's it," he murmured. "That's what it is."

Sabine looked at him, frowning. "What is it?"

"It's the quiet," Ezra said. "It's the peace. I'm not used to it."

He leaned back into the couch, processing this revelation. After a few moments he said, "Sabine, do you realize we've been fighting for most of our lives?"

Her grip on his hands tightened. Ezra looked and saw the discomfort appear on her face. "It's not something I like to dwell on," she said. "But, yeah. I know."

"I think it's come to the point where I feel more at home in a battlefield than I do at our actual home. The peace, the quiet . . . Sabine, it scares me. I'm scared it could be disrupted at a moment's notice, that it could be taken away."

Ezra stared at her, his vision going blurry. "I'm scared you could be taken away. Or me, taken from you. It all feels false, somehow. I can't truly enjoy it."

Sabine reached out and cradled his face to her chest. He heard the gentle, re-affirming beat of her heart. It calmed him a little.

"The galaxy's a scary place, Ezra. We've already lost each other once. I wish I could guarantee that it will never happen again . . . "

Ezra said bitterly, "You can't. No one can."

She turned his face upwards towards hers. "I love you, Ezra. That's all I can promise you. I'll love you until the stars go cold."

"Is it enough, Sabine? Love doesn't promise anything. It wasn't enough for Kanan and Hera. It didn't save Kanan. It killed him." The mention of his former master, Kanan Jarrus, brought a bitter taste to his mouth. He felt awful for saying it, but it held true. Kanan had loved Hera deeply - enough to give his life to ensure hers and everyone else's future on Lothal.

But he had still died. And he knew Hera still felt that loss keenly everyday.

Yes, the love had been there. But it hadn't changed anything.

Kanan still died. Hera had told him of the regrets she felt; things that should have been said but were put aside in the foolish hope that there would be another time to say them.

"You don't mean that, Ezra," said Sabine sharply. "I know you don't."

Ezra turned his face away, hiding his shame. He shrugged in response.

Sabine grabbed his face and wrenched it back towards her. Her brown eyes, normally bright and compassionate, burned with a fierce anger. "Listen to me," she said. "Do not let this fear turn you into something you're not, Ezra. You're better than this. I know you are."

Ezra let out a frustrated breath, bowing his head. "I know. I just . . . I don't know, Sabine. Will this be enough for us? With the lives we lead? I don't want there to be any regrets between us."

"You mean like Hera and Kanan?" asked Sabine. "I get what you mean."

He looked at her, feeling lost. "So what do we do?"

Sabine looked back at him. Then, with a soft touch, she placed a finger under his chin and titled his face up ever so slightly.

"If the love is not enough," she said softly, "then I will ask you for more."

Ezra stared at her, entranced. "What do you mean?"

Sabine leaned in close; the scent of her, a lilac fragrance, filling his nose, intoxicating his mind . . .

"Adore me, Ezra Bridger," she whispered. "Worship me."

His mind went blank. "I . . . how?" he heard himself ask.

With her other hand, Sabine reached behind his head, running her fingers through his hair. Silvery sensations erupted from his scalp; Ezra could hear his heart pulsing loudly within his ears. The fingers clenched, and she pulled him into a deep, searing kiss.

After what felt like an eternity, she let him up for air. Breathing heavily, she placed a hand on his chest.

"I will worship you too," she said huskily. "All of you."

She leaned forward and kissed his chest. "I worship your heart."

His forehead. "I worship your mind."

Sabine reached for his hands, still shaking but for different reasons now. She brushed her lips lightly against each of his fingers. "I worship your hands."

Ezra shivered at her touch. When she was finished, she gazed deeply into his eyes. "Your turn now," she said with an impish grin.

"Are you sure about this?" Ezra asked. "I haven't . . . I mean, this is my first time."

"Mine too," Sabine admitted.

Ezra's eyes widened. He smiled, feeling surprised - and a little gratified. "You waited for me?"

Blushing, Sabine punched him gently on the arm. "Obviously, goober."

He grinned at her. "So, who will take the lead then?"

"Me," she said bluntly. "Unless the Noti gave you directions."

Ezra laughed, feeling some of the tension slide out of him.

Sabine poked him in the chest. "Hey. Focus. Back to worshipping."

He reached out through the Force and dimmed the watchtower's lights. Sabine quirked an eyebrow at him. "Trying to set the mood?" she asked.

Ezra glanced at his hands - they were steady as a rock.

He slid his hands underneath the quilt, searching . . .

Sabine frowned at him. "What are you - oh."

Ezra gently pressed himself against her and returned her kiss with a fervent ardor that left them both breathless. Blinking at him, stunned, Sabine asked, "Where did you learn to do that?"

"Maybe the Noti did teach me some things," he teased. "Oh, I've got tricks that will blow your mind, Sabine Wren."

A sly smile grew slowly on her beautiful face. "Yeah?" she challenged. "Are you willing to show me some more of these tricks?"

"Certainly," said Ezra. "If you're not busy this evening."

She rolled her eyes. "I've got some free time, sure," she replied dryly.

"Excellent," said Ezra. And he promptly got to work, worshipping her, adoring her.

*Author's Note: One of the craziest lines I've ever heard in romantic fiction is a woman saying to her lover, "Worship me." I immediately knew it was something Sabine would say to Ezra and, well, here we are.

#sabezra #sabine wren #ezra bridger #star wars rebels #ezrabine #star wars #ahsoka show #sabezra fanfiction #natasha liu bordizzo #eman esfandi #this one is a little spicy

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bucky-barnes-diaries · 10 months

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Day 12 — Coffee Shop

Pairing || TFATWS!Bucky x Female!Reader

Word Count || Around 700

Contents & Warnings || Fluff — no warnings.

Authors Note || This is posted a day late, as it was supposed to be for December 12th. Apologies for the delay.

Disclaimers || English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

Advent Calendar 2023

Amidst the bitter winter wind, you and Bucky hurried through the snow-covered streets. Your entwined hands offered a reassuring warmth against the relentless cold. The air was frosty against your face, and each step was an effort against the gusts of wind that seemed determined to push you back.

Initially, the day had started with a casual stroll through the snowy streets, a desire to escape the confines of your home and relish in the magic of the winter wonderland outside. The snowfall had been gentle, the wind a soft hum in the trees as you and Bucky walked hand in hand, sharing laughter and giggles. However, your serene tranquility turned into chaos as a sudden storm broke out.

“Fuck, it’s so fucking cold,” you muttered between cackling teeth. Despite the winter gear, the biting wind found its way through the layers.

“Let’s head in there,” Bucky suggested, his voice barely audible above the howling wind as he pulled you along. The warm glow of a nearby coffee shop was a welcoming sight, and you sprinted towards it.

Entering the coffee shop brought an immediate contrast to the harsh weather outside. Laughter spilled from your lips, fueled by the adrenaline of escaping the storm. The dwindling of your chuckles mingled with the warmth of the cozy atmosphere filled with patrons and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

You brushed off the clinging snow from your hair and jackets. “We look like a mess,” Bucky chuckled, brushing off thick snowflakes from your hair as you did his coat.

Amidst the chatter of patrons and the enticing smell of coffee, Bucky planted a chilly kiss on your cold cheek. Despite the coldness of his lips, the gesture warmed you within, eliciting a shiver.

“Let’s find a snug spot to cozy up together,” he suggested, taking your hand and leading you deeper into the coffee shop with its old-world charm—vintage furniture, soft lighting, and an ambiance that felt like a refuge from the winter storm outside.

“Find us a seat, doll. I’ll handle the drinks,” he gestured towards the seats in the back before venturing to the counter to order.

You settled into a plush two-seater sofa in front of the fireplace, surprised and grateful that such a perfect spot had been left unoccupied. Nestled into a more intimate area, it offered a touch of privacy, ideal for you and Bucky to snuggle up and share sweet kisses without the prying eyes of the other patrons.

Shrugging off your jacket, you draped a nearby blanket over your legs, savoring the warmth of the crackling fire as it thawed your hands. Surveying the shop from your cozy spot, the atmosphere provided a perfect sanctuary from the winter storm.

Bucky returned with steaming mugs of hot cocoa with cream, handing you one as he plopped beside you. Nestling against him, cupping the warm mug, you did a little happy wiggle. The perfection of Bucky’s comforting presence, the crackling fire, and the cocoa filled you with contentment, eliciting a hum.

“Hmm, this is perfect. I’m so happy right now.”

“Me too, doll,” Bucky hummed, brushing his lips across your temple.

Lifting his bright red mug, he clinked it against yours in a silent toast to warmth and togetherness.

You moaned in delight as the rich chocolate flavor danced on your tongue, spreading the warmth throughout your body. The hint of chilly gave it a satisfying kick.

“Oh, that’s the stuff,” you moaned, shimmying in satisfaction.

Out of nowhere, Bucky playfully pinched your chin, leaning in for a sweet kiss at the corner of your mouth. The swipe of his tongue made your heart skip, your breath catching.

Chuckling, he pulled away. “You had some cream there,” licking his lips with a moan at the sugary taste.

Your ears burned as his passion warmed you within. Suddenly shy, you nuzzled into his sweater-clad shoulder, prompting another chuckle from Bucky, who kissed the crown of your head.

He stole another lingering kiss before draping an arm over your shoulder, the two of you sinking even deeper into the sofa. The intimacy of the coffee shop mirrored the warmth you shared as you sipped your drinks. The snowstorm outside faded away as the crackling fireplace and the soft murmurs of your sweet nothings became your soundtrack.

Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated! Or let me know through an anonymous ask if that feels more comfortable. As well as a reblog to share my work with other people!

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narrans · 6 months

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My Borrowed Son | 12 | Snow Day

Chapter Twelve | Snow Day

The alarm didn’t need to wake him up. He was already awake. Parker was up and dressed reading his papers for class later that day. They were reading some fun books from Mr. Tamplin including “The Magic Treehouse,” “Charlotte’s Web,” and “Fantastic Mr. Fox.” All of them seemed a bit easy if Parker was being honest with himself, but Mr. Tamplin was already ahead of the curve.

He had recommended a few books specifically for Parker that were technically “above his reading level,” but assured Parker that they were well within his level of comprehension. Books like “Eragon,” “The Maze Runner,” and “A Wrinkle in Time,” now filled Parker’s entire room.

His mom had picked out the books on a tablet she gifted to him with his first perfect report card and now Parker couldn’t get enough. For hours, he stared at the screen and flipped through page after page as he devoured the books.

It wasn’t just Mr. Tamplin who was investing in more advanced options for Parker. His science teacher, Ms. Raegan Ocha, had recommended some fascinating biology books as well as some documentaries for Parker to watch. His math class felt fundamental, so Mrs. Cora Doorman-Knowell, supplied additional assignments that now placed Parker at a 7th grade level.

The only one who didn’t seem willing to provide additional studying material was Ms. Kain, who seemed adamant that history was best taught in person and that he could learn with the rest of his classmates. Thankfully, Parker’s mom found a tutor who was willing to help give him some additional assignments.

It made things easier that he could study on his own and had his mother’s help when he needed it. He also had additional tutoring sessions because, as his mom said, she didn’t want him to feel limited and wanted to give him the tools he needed to succeed.

What made everything so great was that his mom never forced him to do the extra assignments. Everything he did was because he wanted to do it – and he loved it. Parker loved learning, and it was only helping him understand the world more. He didn’t find anything else about his condition, sadly, but that was okay. Perhaps, one day, he would learn enough to be a leading scientist to cure and discover more about his own condition.

So, as Parker finished his reading and logged onto his account, a message flashed on the screen that made his heart sink.

“School Closed: Snow Day”

Snow? Wait! It snowed!

Parker quickly leapt up from his desk and ran across the table toward his ladder that led up to the window. He hurried up one hand hold after the next until he stood on the ledge. His heart fluttered nervously as he pushed the curtain off to the side ever so slightly and slipped between the fabric and glass.

The moment he did, he saw it – a winter wonderland.

The snow was already a few inches deep and covered the windowsill as well as part of the yard outside. Big, fluffy snowflakes drifted from the light gray sky that Parker could have sworn was a big as him. He pressed his palms against the frosty glass and watched as his breath fog up the scene in front of him.

Parker loved the snow. As disappointed as he was that school was closed for the day, he was equally as excited to go outside and play in the snow.

He remembered the first time he saw snow. It was late in the day, and he had just finished dinner with his mom when she hurried to the kitchen all excited. She scooped him up and spoke quickly before pulling the curtains and holding him up to the window. His sporadic memory filled in the gaps of him getting dressed in a few extra blankets as his mom brought him outside.

Parker remembered the frigid air hitting him and the pinch of snow his mom gave him as she placed it in her palm with him. He was six or so years old if he remembered correctly.

Parker remembered grabbing one of the snowflakes in his fingers and staring at it in awe. Seeing something so small and so beautiful was mesmerizing. It made him feel, in a weird way, complete. Like things this small were supposed to exist – like he was supposed to be there.

It was a weird, momentary sensation and something Parker would remember for the rest of his life.

“Parker?”

Hearing his name made him jump out of his skin. With his heart pounding, Parker realized he had been drawn into memories long since passed.

“Yes, momma?” he called back as he stepped out from behind the curtain. He saw his mom come into the bedroom with a cup of hot chocolate and a much smaller cup for him. He hurried down the ladder and waved to his mom to let her know where he was. She was bundled up in her stay-at-home robe, meaning that she was working from home today.

“There you are sweetie. I was trying not to wake you, but it looks like you were already up for school,” said his mom. She handed him the small mug once he was settled at his desk. “Sorry. The school called this morning saying school was cancelled. I turned off the alarms, but it seems like you were already up.”

“Yeah, I had to know what happened in the next chapter of Eragon,” said Parker as he sniffled the hot chocolate in his mug. He played with the top of the marshmallow as it blipped beneath the chocolate, leaving little lines on its white surface.

“Oh? Is it a good book?” asked his mom. Parker knew she had already read through the book once before, but she refused to talk about it in fear of spoiling anything for her son. It was frustrating for Parker. It was knowledge she had but wasn’t sharing.

“It’s so good! I just got to the part where Saphira took Eragon away. He rode her, momma! He’s a dragon rider! But what’s going to happen to his uncle? He’s going to be okay, right?” asked Parker. His mom hid behind her mug and smiled.

“I don’t know. You’ll have to read about it and tell me,” she said. Parker’s bottom lip stuck out as his brow furrowed.

“I don’t like that you do that. If you know, you should just tell me. I don’t like you knowing and me not knowing,” mumbled Parker. In frustration, he took a big bite out of his marshmallow and stared at his mug.

Because he was looking down and away, Parker missed the sudden pained look in his mom’s eyes.

Amanda heard that statement and could only think about the biggest secret she had ever kept in her life. Guilt weighed on her mind and on her soul. She wanted to tell Parker everything, and yet she wanted to keep these secrets for the rest of her life.

She wanted to tell him about the fake “condition” she gave him to keep him safe.

She wanted to tell him how he came into her life.

She wanted to tell him about the research she had done about the small people fictions she had found all those years ago when she first found him.

And yet she didn’t at the same time.

In a flash, all of these thoughts, worries, and desires were gone, and she was once again Amanda Silverstein sitting there with her son, Parker, drinking hot chocolate on his very first snow day.

“Momma?” Parker’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. She cleared her throat and looked down at her son.

“Yes, sweetie?” she asked.

“Um… would it be okay if I go outside and play in the snow? And then call Billy and Bailey?” asked Parker. Parker’s mom smiled as she considered her son’s request.

“Of course,” she smiled. “Which do you want to do first?”

“Play! It’s still snowing outside,” cheered Parker as he hurried into his room and pulled out as many layers as he could. He intended to make some fun things to show his friends, and the sooner the better.

Amanda helped get Parker dressed and quickly dressed herself before checking outside and scooping up the miniscule child. The way Parker was dressed reminded her of the kid from “A Christmas Story” when he couldn’t put down his arms. Despite his appearance, however, Parker was still agile and flexible.

The layers he picked kept him maneuverable and warm at the same time. He had never liked feeling too restrained or unable to move freely. It was weird. He was never claustrophobic and, if he was being honest, he enjoyed small and tight spaces. It was the thought of being restrained and unable to move or get away that made him uncomfortable.

Just another odd sensation that crept up in him from time to time.

The sudden rush of cold air from the outside world drew his attention to the present and, within minutes, Parker was outside in the snow making snow angels with his momma.

There were several clear spaces by the house, but slightly in the neighbor’s yard, that were free of footsteps and debris that Parker started his work.

He started by making a daisy chain of snow angels, which his mom took pictures of. Next, he started making the biggest snowboy family he could muster. His mom helped from time to time, but she mostly helped by snapping twigs and finding eyes and noses for Parker’s creations. This, too, was picture worthy.

It wasn’t until Parker walked up to the tree and started climbing the bark and jumping into the snow that he noticed something odd.

Parker’s mom had stepped away for a moment because a client called her and needed some information. So, in the meantime, Parker decided to try and climb around the tree by grasping onto the bark and shimmying from one side to the next.

When Parker made it to the opposite side of the tree, he noticed something that made his hair stand on end. It was so odd that he actually dropped to the ground and rubbed his eyes with the backs of his hands.

Footprints.

At least, he thought they looked like footprints.

They were right by the base of the tree and, upon further investigation, led into the roots.

Parker was absolutely taken aback. Shaking all over, he stepped forward and pressed his shoes into the snow and saw that the prints were a little bigger than his, but about the same proportionally.

But… how?

Did this belong to an animal? Or did this belong to someone like him? Was there someone else like him out here in the cold?

His mind began to race and made him feel nauseous. He needed to know more. Carefully, he stepped forward under the tree roots and glanced around. Like a detective, he began combing over the snow covered leaves and along the dirt. Something about the place felt secure to him, and that odd sensation of being watched crept over him again.

Parker whipped around and nearly leapt out of his skin to see his mom leaning over by the roots peering in at him. There was something completely unnerving about seeing a giant, looming eye over him.

Again, why?

This was his mom.

“Parker? What are you doing in there?” asked his mom. He began to sputter over his words as he clambered out of the roots.

“Momma! Momma! I… I think there’s someone else out here!” Parker proclaimed. His mom’s features stiffened as she glanced from Parker to the tree roots.

“Someone else? That’s not possible,” she said. Not possible? How could she say something like that?

“It’s true! Look! There are footprints. They look like mine!” urged Parker as he ran over and pointed to the spots he saw before. At second look, they were filled partially with snow, meaning they had probably been there for a while.

His mom’s eyes narrowed as she knelt further and evaluated the area. Her heart was racing a million miles a minute. Was there someone else small like Parker out here in the snow? Did they leave because they came outside to play? Or were they gone? What would happen if whoever left these footprints found Parker? Would they have the answers he was looking for? Or would something else have happened?

To Amanda, the moment lasted a lifetime. She tried to compose herself as she gazed down into her son’s eagerly awaiting eyes.

What could she tell him?

Was now the time to talk about the truth?

She tried to look calm and confident, but the intuitive child may have seen her flash of fear moments earlier.

To Parker, on the other hand, she seemed a bit quiet and tense and not nearly half as excited as he felt. This was possibly his chance to meet someone his size! Ask them questions about their condition and if they knew anything else that he didn’t know.

“Parker.” Just the way she said his name made Parker feel defeated. “I think these might’ve just belonged to a small critter like a mouse or rat. Maybe even a squirrel? I just don’t know who would be out in cold like this.”

“But… momma…”

Parker looked back at the footprints and, much like the episode of that science show his mom liked, “Bones,” there was that weird reasonable doubt in his mind. Maybe it did belong to something else. Also, his condition was an extremely rare one. What were the chances of someone like him being out in a place like this in a snowstorm?

It was probably just feeling.

Parker sighed and nodded.

“Maybe.”

“Good. Now, I think we’ve had enough fun in the snow. Let’s get inside and get warm; and maybe, just maybe, you and I can read some of that ‘Eragon’ book together. Would you like that?” asked Amanda.

“Yes, momma,” said Parker, feeling a bit defeated. He climbed back onto his mom’s hand and stared at the scene in front of him. The little snowboys. The little snow angels.

Everything was so little.

Parker sighed and pulled his legs into his chest as his mom carried the both of them back into the house. The entire trip back, he couldn’t help but think that his mom might have been keeping something from him. There was something in her eyes that just made her waver.

What was it?

And why?

Parker shrugged it off.

Perhaps, one day, he would ask her about it. Until then, he let himself feel excited that he and his momma were going to spend some time reading on this beautiful, snowy day.

…..

Too bad he didn’t look up into the branches high above….

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

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sleekervae · 6 months

Text

New York Romantic .7

Masterlist

pairing: Tom Blyth x ballerina!oc

summary: sunny confides in tom, noelle and bianca play pool

word count: 3,429

taglist: @watercolorskyy @carolanns-world @alana4610

Snowflakes drifted lazily from the sky, replenishing Manhattan's winter wonderland cover. Noelle, her feet throbbing from the cold and her shoes, was bundled up in her scarf and jacket. She watched as Maurice and Chiara dashed down the block, waving frantically at passing cabs. Franca, however, remained inside, opting for warmth over the snowy scape. Tom and Noelle sought shelter under the protective awning of the auditorium, their breath visible in the frosty air as they waited.

"How are your legs feeling?" he asked, his hands stuffed deep in his jacket pockets.

Noelle simpered, "Like they went through the worst leg day in gym history," she replied.

"It paid off, though. You were amazing up there," he praised, "I should've brought you flowers, or something,"

"Don't worry about flowers," she assured him, "I'm just happy you came out tonight. And thanks for --" she motioned towards her uncle and cousin, "-- Putting up with my family. I know they can be a lot sometimes,"

"Don't be ridiculous, they're lovely!" Tom replied "And I can tell that they love you a lot,"

Noelle smiled back, "Yeah; I know how tough it was for them to let me come out here -- I'm sure the same could be said for your family. And they really like you -- my family, I mean,"

"Really?" Tom cocked a brow.

"Yeah! They're a loving family but also really protective, so bringing you out with us is a good sign," she replied, "You know... so long as you don't turn out to be a pervert or a serial killer or anything,"

"Oh no!" he gaped listlessly, much to Noelle's amusement, "There go my plans my murder you. What a shame!" he smirked.

"Such a shame!" Noelle chuckled, "In all honesty though, I'm really happy I met you, Tom. You're... you're a really cool guy," she prayed that her face wouldn't go red as she spoke.

Tom felt a rush of excitement coursing through him, her words stirring up some fluttering hope that maybe it was his moment. Maybe he could the opportunity to shoot his shot? The thought that she might feel the same way filled him with hope and anticipation, for what could be.

However, alongside the excitement lingered a sense of apprehension. Tom couldn't help but wonder if he was jumping to conclusions, reading into things that might not have meant much to Noelle. The uncertainty of where their relationship was heading weighed on him, casting a shadow over his excitement. What if pursuing these feelings changed everything? What if it jeopardized the friendship they already shared? Tom knew he had to tread carefully, balancing his newfound excitement with a sense of caution.

"I'm really glad I met you, too," Tom replied, "You're one of the few people I've met here that..." he trailed off with a shake of his head.

"What is it?" Noelle asked.

"You're gonna' think I'm corny," he chuckled nervously.

"And what's so bad about that?" she asked, lifting her chin at him.

Tom glanced warily at his shoes, could feel the cold creeping in his toes, in his fingers, nipping at his nose; but none of that could sway the warmth in his gut.

"You feel like home; like I've known you for forever," he admitted, "That sounds weird, I know,"

Noelle hadn't expected such a heartfelt confession from him, and the realization of the depth of his feelings took her aback. Yet, his words also filled her with a sense of warmth and comfort, knowing that she had such a profound connection with him. His admission deepened her feelings of affection for him, and in that moment, she couldn't deny the special bond they shared. It was a revelation that left her feeling both vulnerable and deeply touched, unsure of what to say but grateful for the honesty between them.

"No, not at all," she shook her head, "I think that's one of the sweetest things anyone's ever said to me. And I might feel the same way about you," she nudged him gently with her elbow, "I've never connected with someone so quickly like I have with you,"

The scene was set perfectly: snowflakes drifting lazily from the sky, creating a soft, magical atmosphere. Tom and Noelle stood in close proximity, their breath creating small clouds in the cold air. The quietness of the moment enveloped them, and for the most part, they were alone in their own winter wonderland. It was the ideal moment for Tom to take a chance.

The worst she could say is no, right?

"Noelle,"

"Yes, Tom?"

He took a deep breath, "Would you... would you ever consider --"

"Okay, we got one!" Maurice suddenly hollered, waving over Noelle and Tom, "Let's go, guys! Chiara, go get your mother," Chiara trudged through the forming snow banks, throwing a glance at the pair's way.

"Room for Jesus, you two!"

Despite the holidays passing, the cold in New York was here to stay. The only saving grace was the snow had finally melted away. Jackets and scarves were still layered on, frost nipped at people's noses and of course, it wouldn't be a complete winter if the generator didn't conk out.

The kids had called Doris, who in turn called her husband, who in turn called in one of their relatives to try and help out. Tom and Sunny were quite curious when they took off for school one morning and found three older men shrouding Doris' desk with random tools and a layout of the building plan that looked older than half the artifacts in the Museum of Natural History.

"So, how was the recital?" Sunny asked, his fingers hung around a ceiling loop while Tom gripped the handle bar on the bus. He had returned from England a few days ago, and telling from his heavy eyes and slower speech, he was still affected by the jet lag.

"It was really good!" Tom replied, "Noelle and Bianca did great,"

Sunny nodded, his shoulders slumping, "How as Iseul?" he asked.

"She was great, too," Tom nodded, "The school uploaded some videos on the Facebook page if you want to see,"

"Yeah. Yeah, I might just do that," Sunny muttered, "... Do you ever... talk to Iseul?"

"Not very often, but she's nice," Tom replied, though he still grimaced at the smile on her face when she dared him and Noelle to kiss, " -- Have you ever talked to her?"

Sunny snapped suddenly, "No!" then he composed himself, "I -- I mean, no I haven't. I see her in the lobby sometimes with Noelle and Bianca,"

Tom couldn't help but let a little smile worm its way onto his face, "Do you like her?"

"... Yeah," he admitted sheepishly, "I mean -- I think she's beautiful. And she seems so nice and sometimes we pass each other in the cafeteria and she smells amazing. But then again, I've never talked to her. She probably doesn't even know I exist,"

"Well, you'll never know if you don't try, mate," Tom said, "Why don't you try talking to her?"

Sunny scoffed back, "Why don't you ask out Noelle on a date?" he replied.

Tom paused momentarily, knowing fully well his cowardly answer, "I don't want to be rejected and risk our friendship," he admitted.

"Exactly," Sunny nodded, a wishful sigh following, "Face it Tom, the ballerinas are too good for us. If we were famous I'd get it but -- they're just out of our league, mate,"

The bus came to their stop shortly thereafter, though Tom was deflated. Any shred of confidence he had been gripping to was suddenly dashed away, Sunny's words, while hurtful, rang true to him. Noelle was an extroverted, high energy dancer and he was a shy, introverted would-be actor.

Noelle and Bianca had a free block between classes, and typically they liked to spend their free time in the recreation room the school had set up. There was foosball, some couches, a small kitchenette area and a pool table. The girls frequented the pool table mostly, while they weren't the greatest players it was a good way to kill a little time.

The sticks struck fast across the white ball, the multicoloured balls clicked and flew sharply across the felt, though much to Noelle's dismay she couldn't get her shot.

"Dammit," she muttered under her breath.

"You gotta keep your grip looser on the stick, kind of like a pendulum swing," Bianca wound up her stick and made the shot, sinking the blue ball into the pocket with ease.

"Alright, Liz Hurley," Noelle simpered, "You've been practicing without me?"

"Derek gave me a couple pointers when I was home," Bianca replied, "Speaking of my brother -- can you tell your cousin to stop texting him? She's still in high school and it's just -- it's weird,"

Noelle scoffed back, "Well, she might stop texting him if he wouldn't answer back," she pointed out.

Bianca shook her head, "Alright, alright, I'll talk to him," she conceded.

Noelle went on to wind up her next shot, none the wiser as they were approached by another student.

"What's going on, ladies?" the girls looked up to find Trey, another student in from their class. Trey was what was considered the equivalent to Matthew McConaughey's character in Dazed and Confused, laid-back, suave, and ready to party. He was also always looking to lock down his next "piece of tail" as the word went around. And for reasons beyond Noelle's comprehension, Bianca had a huge crush on him.

"Hey Trey," Noelle nodded.

"Hi Trey," Bianca smiled, her posture immediately straightened out, her arms braced up on the table's edge and her chest pushed out, chin raised and her head tilted just right. She was an image right out of a pinup rag, she would've been right in Trey's league.

"I was wondering if you guys wouldn't mind having a third player cut in," he grinned. He glanced between both Bianca and Noelle. Noelle didn't mind Trey, he could be a bit of a player and his ego could've been pulled down a few notches, but he was a really good dancer.

Despite her reservations, Noelle wanted to be excited for Bianca, "You know -- we only got two sticks at the moment but why don't you and Bianca play? I'll sit out," she volunteered, turning gleefully towards her friend. However, she was a little dismayed to find Bianca's smile had disappeared, her pool stick set down and her arms folded as she backed away from the table.

Noelle tried to get a read on her, subtly shaking her head as if to say what are you doing? Here's your moment to shine!

Trey was none the wiser to any rising tension within Bianca, he took his moment to check her out between glances at Noelle and the table. He would've gone for either one at the moment and it showed.

"We could take turns?" he suggested, his brows furrowing to emulate some sort of blue steel, "Winner gets a kiss,"

Noelle would've laughed right in his face if not for Bianca, so she turned to her again, "I'm a bit tired anyway but Bianca is a really good pool player!" she exclaimed, trying to hype up her blonde friend. Nevertheless, Bianca remained still and stone, staring a hole through Noelle.

Noelle was thoroughly confused at this point, recalling moments when Bianca would go on and on about all the tiny interactions she and Trey had in dance class, and all the fantasies she had about him doing whatever to her. This was her opportunity to shoot her shot with Trey, for whatever satisfaction she thought he might provide her and for some reason she seemed more upset with Noelle. Had something happened Noelle wasn't aware of? No, she and Bianca told each other everything, right down to when they got their first periods.

"You okay, Bianca?" Trey finally asked.

Bianca nodded, grabbing her backpack as she stepped back, "Yeah, I gotta go," and she started off down the hall, "C'mon Noelle!"

Noelle smiled sheepishly at Trey, saying a quick goodbye, grabbed her bag and followed Bianca.

"Girl, what the hell was that?" she tried to ask as she quickly caught up, "That was your moment!"

"No it wasn't!" Bianca snapped sharply.

"What are you talking about?" Noelle asked, "I gave you a bigger opening than a great dane's doggy door!"

"It wasn't a good moment, Noelle! So forget it!" Bianca exclaimed, her tone teetering on anger and annoyance.

"What does that even mean?" Noelle asked again, "You want a Daisy Buchanan moment in a garden? We're not in West Egg!"

"I said forget it!" Bianca echoed again, walking faster now. Noelle trailed behind by a few steps, her brain spinning to understand what had suddenly got into the usually perky blonde.

Meanwhile, Tom and his friends had settled at a table in the cafeteria, chatting amongst themselves with a plethora of snacks and to-go coffee cups scattered between them. Tom saw Noelle and Bianca from the corner of his eye, he turned his head toward them. Noelle found Tom near immediately in the crowd, some sense of relief washing over her as he gave her a little wave. She waved back, not wanting to interrupt the group, though much to her surprise she heard Bianca huff and grumble beside her. Noelle stopped dead in her tracks.

"What is wrong, Bianca?" Noelle asked, her patience quickly running out, "I've never seen you act like this!"

Bianca simply rolled her eyes, turning on her heel and walking in a different direction, mumbling words Noelle couldn't quite make out. She didn't bother to follow her this time, she stood stiff as a board in the middle of the bustling cafeteria, trying to piece together what had gone wrong.

Meanwhile, Tom and some of the actors had watched Bianca storm off, they too were very curious.

"That's your neighbour, right?" Marceline asked. She was sat across from Tom and cradling a half-drank matcha latte.

"Yeah," he nodded, "I've never seen Bianca look so upset,"

"Maybe they had a fight?" Jordan suggested, peaking over Tom's shoulder to watch.

Marceline scoffed, "And they say we actors are dramatic. The ballerinas are a whole other ballpark,"

Their conversation resumed onto another topic, but Tom couldn't help but keep glancing Noelle's way, right up until he looked and she had disappeared.

The generator was still out when Tom got home from school, as evident by the bone-chilling air in the lobby and the tiny space heater Doris had on her desk. She lit up when she saw Tom come through the glass doors.

"Oh, Tom! How's everything?" she asked.

"Can't complain," he shrugged back, nodding down to the space heater, "I guess the generator's still broken?"

"Like a clock that got run over by a semi," she shook her head, "My husband's bringing in his nephew's coworker tomorrow and they're gonna take a look at it. I'd like it to be fixed by the time Thanksgiving rolls around, you know?"

Tom simpered, "Have you thought about just calling in a repairman?" he asked.

Doris scoffed back, "Do I look like I'm mad of money? Get real," she replied, "Besides, between the income I make here and all the other bills I gotta pay, I'm lucky con-ed hasn't written me up,"

Tom didn't want to know what she meant, so he figured it best not to ask. He did however jump when Doris's desk phone suddenly rang. She picked it up immediately with a sharp, "Make it fast, I'm busy,"

Tom peaked over her desk, finding the most she was busy with was an episode of Emmerdale. That brought a little smile to his face.

"What?" Doris snapped, what little smile she had on before had formed into concern, "What room? Alright, alright, I'll be right up," she then hung up the phone, "Curse my knees, and curse that stupid elevator," she grumbled as she stood up.

"What's going on?" Tom asked, falling in step with Doris as they started for the stairs.

"Noise complaint. Your neighbours are scrapping," she replied simply, grumbling under her breath, "Don't they know I got better things to do? I gotta find out how James escapes from Emma!"

They marched up to the third floor and sure enough the closer they got, the more yelling they could hear. Much to Tom's dismay, the commotion was coming from Noelle's apartment. She and Bianca were in some sort of shouting match; accusatory names and curse words being thrown each other's way. Some of the other students had peeked out of their doors to see what was going on, including Sunny, who still had his violin bow in hand. Tom lingered back as Doris marched up to the door, pounding loudly with her fist.

"Girls! Clam it up! This isn't the Bravo Network!" she shouted, "Open this door, now!"

The fighting immediately ceased, the silence suddenly becoming just as tense as the noise. Everybody awaited apprehensively to see who was going to emerge. And sure enough, Noelle opened the door a few moments later, flushed and embarrassed as she came face-to-face with Doris.

"H-Hi, Doris," she greeted sheepishly.

"Where's your roomie?" Doris asked, clearly not in the mood to play around.

Noelle turned back around and shouted "Bianca! Doris is here!"

"I'm in the bathroom!" came a faint reply. Noelle's eyes slipped shut and her head hung low.

"Are you guys okay in here?" Doris asked, "Because when I come up to screaming like that in this city, I wonder if I have to call the special victims unit,"

"I'm so, so sorry," Noelle replied, "We're fine. It's just a misunderstanding,"

"A misunderstanding?" Doris gawked, "If that's your idea of a 'misunderstanding', I'd hate to see what your version of 'emergency' is. Is that what your parents teach you upstate?" the entire time she spoke, Noelle's eyes locked with Tom's. She appeared disheveled and exhausted, and her overall demeanour falling way to shame. Tom felt for her, he wanted to help her, or at least try to understand what was happening.

"It's okay, we're fine. And I'm sorry we were so loud, it won't happen again," Noelle promised.

"It better not," Doris cemented, "You've already got one strike and three months left of your school year. Don't make me have to evict you now," all the while, the other students continued to watch and gawk.

"It won't happen again," Noelle nodded, "I'm so sorry,"

"Good," Doris huffed, "And give my warning to your roomie. Next time I might not be so forgiving," she then glanced up and down the hall at the other students, "What're you all looking at? This isn't vaudeville! Back to your business!"

And everyone swiftly disappeared and slammed their doors shut. Doris then strutted back down the hall, patting Tom on the shoulder, "Have a good night, Tom," and she started down the stairs.

Tom watched her go before turning back to Noelle. She'd slumped against the door frame, her forearm cushioned between the wood and her forehead, she looked more exhausted than when she had coming back from dance class. Tom approached her cautiously.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly, sneaking a peek inside her room. Nothing looked broken, and Bianca still hadn't returned.

"Yeah," Noelle nodded, her tone of voice deflated, "I'm sorry you had to see that,"

"Hey, don't," Tom shook his head, "You have nothing to be sorry for," and instinctually he placed his hand on her arm, giving her a squeeze, "I just want to make sure you're okay,"

Noelle glanced up his way, quickly becoming entranced with his hazel-blue eyes. His touch was comforting, she craved nothing more to slam the door behind her and run into his arms. She was so embarrassed she let herself come to this point, even more so that Tom and seemingly the entire building had watched this go down. She didn't want Tom to remember her this way, as some sort of loose cannon who couldn't keep her cool, that wasn't who she was.

"I'm okay. Thank you, though," she assured. From behind her echoed the opening of a door, "Sorry -- I gotta run,"

"No worries," Tom nodded, "Let me know if you need anything, yeah?"

"For sure," she tried to smile as confidently as she could, though it didn't quell Tom's worry as she slipped back inside and shut the door. With a shake of his head he crossed the hall back to his own apartment, and the building remained quiet for the rest of the evening.

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