#based on a late night conversation with my darling snow

[breadandblankets]

Leaves crunch and twigs snap as Jason, lead foot and tired, stomps back to their little campsite with his bag of sad looking tatos, onions, and herbs.

(Herbs were the real hot commodity in the Commonwealth, the only people who still had em after the war were the Vaults. Well except for rosemary.... and mint. Like radroaches those weeds.)

Jason was about 75% certain that the lady at the market stand had upcharged him for his handsome mug.

Fucking assholes. This was why he didn't leave Goodneighbor for too long.

His charge was still where Jason had left him, sitting prim and proper in the makeshift camp Jason had set up before he left.

As he approached, Damian glanced up sharply, his hand outstretched with a piece of jerky no doubt stolen from Jason's pack. He was feeding it to a-

Jason stops in his tracks.

No fucking way.

"Brat that better not be what I think it is."

"I wasn't aware that you had enough brain cells left to think Todd."

"That's a fucking baby deathclaw."

Indeed it was, about the size of a medium dog with claws the same length as it's head. The little ball of tanky lizard destruction took Damian's distraction as an opportunity to snatch the jerky out of his hand.

"This is Humphrey, I hatched her myself."

".....What?"

"Hatched her, do keep up Todd."

"How long have you had her?" Jason tries to run the rough math on how long deathclaws incubate eggs for a runs into the brick wall that is the terror that Damian just stole a deathclaw egg from presumably a deathclaw mother.

The fact that Damian was anywhere near a position to be in the vicinity of a deathclaw mother meant Talia was going to kill him stone dead. For good this time.

"Three weeks," Damian reports in a clipped tone. He says this while petting the tiny creature that Jason has no doubt in his mind could rip them both to shreds in seconds.

Jason had lost more than a few traveling companions to the claws of a pissed lizard, they're the kind of animal that just gets mad when you shoot it.

But this was also Damian, the twerp had some sort of uncanny nack for getting the creepy crawlies of the Commonwealth to listen to him.

Fucking damnit.

"Fine, but you're explaining this to your mother."

"Acceptable," Damian sniffs, holding out a hand to shake.

Jason, despite himself, takes it.

[camelliagwerm]

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Lord Valerius and Lady Camellia!

I’m not entirely sure if Urgathoans pay heed to this holiday but regardless, I extend to you my most sincere celebrations. Jaethal said you were both doing quite well after her last visit to your lands about Drezen. It is a shame I was not able to attend myself, I would have dearly liked to catch up and enjoy your company once more after I last saw you at my coronation anniversary. It has been entirely too long since I had such engaging conversation and fun with peers. Will you be hosting any galas or events soon? I would relish an opportunity to travel, it has been entirely too long. Or, should you need time away from your own troubles, please visit my lands whenever you wish - you will be put into the most exquisite of suites as befitting your status.

Accept the gifts I have sent along, in celebration of your long relationship through life and undeath. Let me know how the wine tastes and what you’ve paired it with. Note the date and vintage - it’s one of the last bottles remaining in Irovetti’s collection and he assuredly stole it from the previous ruler as well. There is also a dress made of the most exquisite of silks, and the color immediately made me imagine it upon fair Camellia’s skin rather than mine. It would be criminal to not pass it along to the right lady fit to wear it. I will cover any tailoring needed, of course, but I have already ordered it altered somewhat based on what I remember of your striking figure. Lastly, this scourge, which I had custom made for the both of you. The black leather is from the supple wings of Ilthuliak. May it serve you better than it did her.

Also, ‘Varn’ insisted these be sent along, something about “a man that would appreciate such toiling made into advancing the art of undeath” - some books and old rituals related to reanimation and lichdom. He also sends his regards and congratulations.

-Sincerely, Queen Morolai Valduin”

To Her Majesty, Queen Morolai I of the Stolen Lands – 

You are correct; my faithful do not tend to celebrate the holidays – indeed, we do not have any formal, Golarion-wide holidays, though each individual cell may have their own. Still, my wife and I appreciate the gesture. It is always a pleasure to have Jaethal with us; the doors of the Pallid Court will always be open to my sister-in-hunger, though I cannot guarantee that my priesthood would not wish to poach her from you. She made quite the impression on several lovely, young Famished who have recently been committed to Our Lady Despair’s service – as well as some of the Ghula. 

Once the winter snows have left Drezen, we shall take you up on the offer of a visit – in Gozran perhaps, so the sun is not so bothersome for me but enough that Camellia may enjoy the warmth? She is certainly eager to visit both your capital and Pitax again – my coffers will be a little worse for wear as a result, but alas — I am a weak man and cannot deny my darling anything, even if I wished to. As for your own visit to Drezen, consider this a preliminary invitation to our usual Night of the Pale masquerade at the end of the year, and should we have any other celebrations of note, you are more than welcome to attend.

As for the wine –  it is a crime that Irovetti kept it in his cellar and had not touched it, but it is in much better hands now, ones with more…discerning taste than your late rival.  In return, this letter should arrive with some Sangwine; it is a popular choice in my homeland, especially among the aristocracy, who associate it with a long life. Camellia extends her thanks for the gown, though she fears she will not be able to wear it for some time. I hope, once we visit, you shall understand why. The scourge however -- her eyes lit up when she saw it and learned of the leather’s origin.  I expect its bite to be fierce. She also has a gift for you that is of a discrete nature. I have not asked – all ladies must have their secrets, even Queens and Princesses.

You may tell ‘Varn’ that if he wishes to lecture me on the finer points of becoming a Lich,  then he is several years too late. My old mentor already tried that once and those fell upon deaf ears, and my own destiny to become undead lies in my blood -- and not for two decades at least. I will be sure to pass along the rituals and books to High Priestess Elyanka, however; she will find them fascinating. 

Keep well, your Majesty. May your reign be long and fruitful – and we shall see you come Gozran.

With esteem, Valerius Dragavei, Prince of Drezen.

[mggpleasedontlookhere]

no matter what it takes

summary: y/n is kidnapped, and for once reid can’t think of a solution

inspired by this request: Hiiiii! I absolutely love your writing it’s so amazing! I was wondering could there be a storyline where your all working a case (the reader is dating Spencer) and have a lead and you go to the suspect’s house and while there you get kidnapped when back at the BAU the team is trying to work out how to get you back and they get a ransom vid of you getting beaten (dark I know) so they all have to work faster and they find you but while you're taken can we see it from like Spencer’s POV and his thought process on your being gone. Anyways they find you and you’re like drugged majorly injured you wake up in hospital Spencer’s there and it’s fluffy at the end.I know that’s rough but I really love your writing and hope this is ok x

word count: 2,331                                                                                               reading time aprox: 8 mins

a/n: to whoever requested it, i kinda didn’t follow your format or ending. i’m really sorry to disappoint you, but i was writing the plot one way, then suddenly it took a turn. i hope you still enjoy it!

masterlist

Spencer’s POV

My eyes scanned the words in front of me, Charles Dickens displayed in between my hands. I hoped my thoughts would wander more as I explored the novel, taking my mind off of the case I worked previously.

Out of the blue, two soft hands appeared on my knotted hair, massaging the scalp tenderly. “Are you settling okay, my love? How was the case?”

I exhaled deeply, setting the book down beside me as I guided my best girl to my lap. I cushioned her to my side, nuzzling my nose into her shoulder.

“That bad, huh?” Y/N sympathized, trailing her fingers at the cut of my chin. I nodded into her, taking in her calming scent. She smelled of fresh daisies in the summer and the first layer of snow in the winter.

I lifted my head from hers, bringing my arm around her shoulders to pull her closer to me. I sighed in relief as a wave of calm brushed over me. “We were too late...we couldn’t get to one of the last hostages before the unsub.” I shook my head, taking her hand in mine. I examined the daintiness of her fingers, chuckling softly as I placed kisses upon each of them.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she whispered, nuzzling into me as we enjoyed each other’s presence. “Did you catch the unsub?”

“No...he got away last minute,” I sighed, running my hand over my face. “This unsub likes to make things personal. He only killed the last victim to mess with us.”

Silence infiltrated the conversation before it dived into the dark details of the case. The combined sounds of our breathing created a tranquil environment, lulling us to sleep with every second passed.

“I promise you Y/N...”

-

The shade of grey that covered the walls of the BAU prevented agents’ minds from meandering from their tasks. This proved quite effective in intended circumstances, although the caveat was the consequence of a disconcerted mind.

The film cast over my eyes exacerbated the existing burn from staring into space for too long. Although the sensation was unmatched for the void that consumed me from the inside. My limp fingers twitched beside me in a rhythmic pace, reminding me that this was real. My feet felt heavy against the granite tiles of the office, barely able to hold up the rest of my stature. I felt my muscles sag underneath my weight as the feeling of emptiness flooded from my torso to the knuckles of my hands.

“You be careful, Y/N!” I teased, watching as my lover’s silhouette disappeared into the elevator.

“Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone!”

I shook my head, amused at the incessant Marvel-themed references that had been thrown my way since our last movie night. “How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.”

I hissed as I felt my nails dig into my palms. I hadn’t realized how hard I’d been clenching my fists until I looked down to see blood trailing around my nail bed. Shaking my head, I cleaned off the evidence against my slacks, watching it seep through the material.

“Guys?”

My head shot up to find Penelope typing away at her computer. Her brows were crossed with worry and her eyes would flicker frantically between her four monitors. The rest of the team seemed to follow me to her station, gazing with anticipation at what she discovered.

“What do you have Garcia?”

“I-um. I’m picking up a satellite feed somewhere in Danbury, Connecticut,” she spilled out, her fingers shaking over her keys. “Ther-there’s a livestream that just went active two minutes ago, an-and it’s...there’s-oh my god.” Penelope pushed herself away from her screens, tearing her eyes away as her face grew hot.

“Reid. Out.” Hotch demanded, not taking his eyes off the feed in front of him. JJ moved beside him, further blocking my view of the monitor. Her face contorted in shock and disgust, similar to the expression Garcia beheld moments ago.

“What...why?” I questioned, taking steps forward to investigate, but was ultimately stopped by Morgan. A coil wrapped around my insides, getting tighter with every breath that I took. The sides of my forehead began to warm up with a disorienting blaze, traveling down my eyelids. The fire followed down to the pit of my stomach, sending an uneasy chill down my spine.

“Kid…” he whispered, shaking his head in caution.

“What…” I breathed, feeling my cheeks swell up. Morgan couldn’t meet my eyes--none of them could. “God, it’s my girlfriend. I deserve to know where the hell she is,” I huffed, pushing past Morgan. Although the words were launched back into my esophagus, turning into bile that burned away at my pride.

A high-pitched ringing echoed and bounced around my head. My ears thumped with a resonating drum, overwhelming my senses. Every sharp intake of air felt like ice shooting up my nostrils, and every exhale felt like fire to my lungs.

Y/N was hunched over in a chair with braces around her wrists and ankles. Her beautiful hair was matted with dirt and blood, sticking to the sides of her face. Her skin was painted with a mixture of sweat and grime, hiding the usual radiant glow of her skin. Fortunately, the blurry pixels of the video saved me from witnessing the large gashes that ran along her flesh.

A man stood next to her with a Cheshire grin, his pervasive eyes scanning every inch of his work before breaking the fourth wall. He stared at the camera with a joyful gleam, tilting his head as he inspected the lenses.

“Spencer.” I imagined her call out. A phantom chant met my ears, remembering the softness in her voice and the soothing gravity she carried within her words.

“Spencer, stop it!” Y/N giggled, burying herself deeper into our duvet.

“Why baby?” I murmured into the crease of her neck. “We should just stay like this all day. Maybe if we stay long enough we can morph into a chrysalis.”

“Spencer,” she giggled. “Spence…”

“Spence?” JJ empathized, searching my eyes. She placed a hand on the outside of my arm, lingering there for a comforting moment. Although when she realized her attempts were futile, she retracted her arm with a tight frown on her lips. “I know that-”

“The feed is displaying audio now,” Garcia announced with a wavering tone. I slid past JJ, standing my ground next to Hotch as we listened to the livestream. Whimpers echoed throughout the concrete compound she was trapped in. Her body flinched as the man inched closer to her with an object out of view from the camera. The fear in her eyes left a sharp pang in my chest as a burning resentment ignited my bloodstream.

“Stop…” she whispered, pulling away from the man. “Stop...please,” she sobbed. Her face was contorted in anticipation, glancing down at the item creeping towards her. It was only then a glint of a metal object bounced off of the camera, a foreign substance leaking from its tip.

“Stop! Please!” Y/N’s voice amplified in volume as the inevitable came. “NO!” she screamed, thrashing in her seat as the needle penetrated the soft layer of her skin. “SPENCER! HELP!” she cried out, desperation seeping through her weeps.

A suffocating poison ran its course throughout my body, entrapping me in the limited reality of my abilities. I felt my inner conscious thrash against the walls of my mind, begging for an answer, a solution. I tore my eyes away from the screen, my hand unconsciously clawing at the base of my neck. Staggered breaths blocked my airway, and the room shrank under my feet.

I needed to get out.

I let my feet sweep me away from the office, as far as it takes. My back hit the cold wall of the eerie hallway, feeling the chill penetrate through my blazer. I closed my eyes as I banged on my forehead, hoping that the gears would start working, but nothing seemed to bring me assurance.

Nothing could assure that she’ll be okay. I failed her. I failed to assure her that I was going to keep her safe. I failed at keeping her safe. I failed her.

My heart was pulled against my spine, attached tethers tearing it apart in opposite directions. Contractions of adrenaline seeped into my nervous system as her anguished screams left the room silent behind me. It was like gravity had ceased to exist, leaving me floating in a mind-numbing state of desolation.

I failed her.  

“I’m always going to love you,” I reassured, tucking in a hair behind her ear as she swung her legs back and forth atop of the counter.

“Really Spence?” she giggled, bringing the spoonful of 3:00 am ice cream out of her mouth, dangling the utensil from the bottom of her plump lips.  “Prove it?”

“Darling, isn’t there a tub of ice cream--that I bought--in your hands?” I teased, tapping at my watch. “And last time I checked it’s the middle of the night.”

“Whatever,” she giggled, nudging at my shoulder. My hands traveled to the sides of her hips, pulling myself closer as I inspected the beautiful glow of the moonlight reflecting off of her visage. “I thought you were going to say something cute.”

“That wasn’t cute?”

“Not even close, Spencer Reid,” she mumbled, tapping on the end of my nose before taking my face into the softness in her hands. She playfully scoffed as we inspected each other’s eyes for what seemed like hours. My arms found their way around her waist, melting into her, as I lessened the gap between us.

“What is it?” I whispered, my eyes flickering from her eyes to the pigment on her lips. Closing in proximity, I nudged her into me. But before our lips could meet, a chuckle filled the air and a hand was placed above my chest.

“I...am out of ice cream.” With that, she scurried away to the fridge with a bounce in her step. I shook my head in amusement, whispering to myself.

“That girl’s damn lucky that I love her.”

Frenzied feet inside the office took me out of my daze, but it was the sound of soft steps approaching me that made my shoulders stiffen in anticipation. I collected my composure the best as I can, maintaining a brave face for whoever would walk into the doorframe.

I didn’t even bother to look up to see who it was. The figure’s footsteps halted beside the door frame, leather shoes in my peripheral. Without a moment of quiet, the figure stooped down with its back pressed lightly against the wall. Although despite the thick tension, the figure remained silent.

“You know I don’t always need company…” I murmured defensively.

“I know kid...I know,” Morgan huffed, bringing his hands to his head. “But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have any.” He knocked his knee into mine, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “She’s going to be okay Spencer.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know that she’s strong,” Morgan countered. “You just gotta believe in tha-”

“Don’t- Don’t give me hope like I’m one of the victims we interview. I’m- I’m not a victim.” I nudged his large hand off of me, feeling confined in the big desolate hallway.

“I wasn’t saying you were-”

“But you implied it!” I combed through my hair, my lungs still sore from staggered breaths. “I’m...I’m sorry,” I sighed.

“I said I’m sorry!” I yelled, feeling my throat dry up from the venom dripping from my words.

“This is the third time, Spence. The THIRD time you came home late,” Y/N seethed.

“Who are you? My mother?”

“All I want is to know that you’re safe, Spencer! God! I wait here all day for you, knowing that you’re out there on the field, and something could happen. How does that make me feel?”

“This is ridiculous,” I shook my head, dismissing her ignorance. I headed towards my jacket that I strung up on the coat hanger a few minutes ago, not bothering to take my keys with me.

“Where...where are you going?” Y/N whispered.

I made the mistake of looking back and seeing the hurt present on her face. The apples of her cheeks were stained with tears, and her eyes were glistening with fresh ones. Her lips were parted ever so slightly, still looking plump and soft even in her distressed state.

“To work,” I monotonously replied, turning away from her. I shuffled out of the apartment with anger dominating every part of me, blinding me to the point where I guess I forgot to lock the door.

“I did this.”

Morgan’s head shot up at the utterance of my words. “What do you mean, kid?”

“I left her by herself...alone,” I scoffed. “We were fighting, and I just left her there. God, I didn’t even lock the door.” I rammed the back of my head against the plaster wall, squeezing my eyes tightly. “How can I be so stupid? Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

“Hey, stop that!” Morgan intervened, pulling my shoulders off of the wall. “You didn’t know that this was going to happen…”

“Yes, but I should’ve known, Morgan! Don’t you get it!”

“Spenc-”

“I had one job…” I sighed, the inner walls of my chest collapsing into themselves. “God I...I should’ve known.”

My head fell back into the curves of my palms, my tears shamelessly peeking out of the corners of my eyes. My chest heaved reluctantly, as my heart lurched forward. Heat crawled up my cheeks, combining with the coldness of the tears running down my face.

Morgan’s supporting hand felt like a phantom’s upon the skin of my back, knowing that nothing compared to the innocent touch of my Y/N.

-

“What is it, Spence?”

“I promise you that....that I’m always going to keep you safe, no matter what it takes.”

-

taglist: @rexorangecouny​ @howdycharlie @honeymilk-4​ @linthebinbag​ @andreasworlsboring101​ @ssareidbby​ @kyleetheeditor​ @tclaerh​ @jimilogy​ @lulwaxim @jhillio​ @m3ssytrash​ @haylaansmi​ @meowiemari​ @ashwarren32​ @spencerwaltergubler​

[joheun-saram]

promise - 1 (knj)

Chapter 1: New Year’s Eve

masterlist | next

Summary- It’s NYE and you can’t wait to bring in 2017 surrounded by your friends, but there’s a new cute boy around. You’re intrigued but quickly find out there is it’s no good being cute when he’s literally the most infuriating person you’ve met.

word count- 3.1k

pairing- asshole!Namjoon x Reader (alternatively, edgelord!Namjoon)

rating- PG15

genre- collegeau, roommatesau, enemies2lovers, slow burn, this chapter is platonic fluff(and angst I guess), future angst, fluff and smut

warnings- alcohol consumption, marijuana consumption, Namjoon being an absolute ass, he’s against socialism for a hot second (to rile her up, our Joonie is still woke tho nw), mention of sex, Jungkook’s parents based on my actual best friend’s parents (shoutout to their amazing jello shots!)

a.n- Well, well, well... if it isn’t my simp ass writing another Namjoon series. Love that about me. Get ready for some slow burn and a lot of Namjoon just being annoying! 🥴This is a drabbleish series so most parts will be about 2-3k.

Thanks for the beautiful @ditttiii​ for beta reading and to @aroseforyoongi​ for helping me with the political argument (also for dubbing this Namjoon edgelord!joon 🤣)

As always feedback appreciated, a reblog and a like goes a far way. Send me an ask! 💌

taglist- @namyoongles​ @cheesecakes-randomshitz​ 

Send me an ask to be on the taglist!

-

You were running late. Very late.  With a sigh you watched the street pass you by in a blur, the distant roar of your bus dimmed by the rap music that blasted through your ears. You looked at the group chat to be bombarded by messages.

Jungkook: bro istg if you’re not here in the next ten minutes

Hoseok: HURRY UP! JK IS DOING SHOTS WITH HIS DAD OMFG

Jimin: OMG Y/N. WE’RE GETTING DRUNK WITHOUT YOU

Jungkook: adsdsd duddde u suk wdt syop taling foevr

Yoongi: I’m gonna drink all the whiskey I got from Korea this week if you don’t get your butt over here.

Yoongi: Jieun says hi btw!

The texts continued to devolve into nonsense as you willed the bus to move faster. You were annoyed. Jungkook had planned the new year’s party at his parent’s house, and you were beyond excited to party, having spent the entire winter break stuck at home with your parents as they argued over the smallest things. You tightened your grip around your duffle bag as the bus came to a stop. Trudging through the snow you finally reached the familiar red door of your best friend’s house.

You knocked, taking in the large three-storey suburban house as you waited to be let in, already digging through your backpack for the bottle of tequila you had brought along. If they took any more time to open the door, you were going to start drinking right there on the porch. Before you could uncap your bottle, you were greeted by Jungkook’s dad, the familiar, jolly older man moved his hair out of his eyes as he greeted you.

However, before you could finally get out of the cold, he stopped you, presenting a tray of colourful jello shots.

“Y/N! Penalty for being late. You have to take a shot!” He laughed as you sputtered, his face reddened by what you assumed was alcohol. You had known Jungkook since the two of you were freshmen in university and had routinely stayed with him and his parents during break, but you had never seen Mr. Jeon this drunk. You stood awkwardly, not knowing what to do as he insisted, your friend finally joining him and encouraging you as you tentatively took a shot.

“I changed my mind! One of every colour!” Mr Jeon exclaimed joyously as Jungkook groaned.

“Dad! It’s cold. Let her in!” He whined and thankfully, you were let in. Taking off your shoes and leaving your bag by the door, you ventured into the living room where you saw all your friends. Hoseok leaned where he sat on the couch, his face buried in his phone as he, no doubt, texted his hookup. Jimin danced next to the Christmas tree the Jeons had yet to put away with a glass of liquor as Yoongi played the piano in the corner, cuddling with his girlfriend Jieun. Bubbling warmth swelled your heart as you saw all your favourite people.

“Come on let’s get you a drink!” Jungkook put his arm around you, planting most of his weight on you due to the alcohol raging through his veins as he guided you to the kitchen through the living room. In the kitchen, you were met by the sight of his parents swaying together to Yoongi’s expert piano skills, and a man you didn’t recognize sitting at the breakfast island, talking to Jungkook’s younger sister animatedly, who seemed to be trying to leave the conversation.

Jungkook poured you a rum and coke, easy on the coke, as he made his way to the breakfast bar. You stood next to his sister, making small talk before she excused herself to go to her room. She never stuck around long during these get-togethers. 

When she left, you were left standing awkwardly next to the only stranger at this party. The first thing you noticed was that he was tall. Much taller than all your friends, his dark black hair styled away from his face, a strand falling on his forehead shaped like a comma. He was dressed much like everyone else in dark wash jeans and a navy t-shirt with white leaves outlined on the sleeves, except his jeans fit him almost too perfectly, sculpting his thick thighs. Although he seemed friendly, greeting you with a pretty dimpled smile, your sudden attraction to him made you nervous.

“Hi. I’m Namjoon,” he said, eyeing you from over his cup as he sipped whatever concoction he was drinking.

“Oh shit! I keep forgetting you guys have never met!” Jungkook slurred as he sidled up to the two of you with his stool, leaving you standing between the two sitting boys. “Namjoon and I have been friends for years. I think we probably met the same time you and I did, but I guess we never ended up meeting together?” He ended his statement as a question, and it surprised you. You thought in three years you would have met all of his friends. 

“Well, that and I took a break from school. I was doing an internship in California.” He beamed, clearly proud of his achievement. “I worked at Twitch, you know them?” He smirked, and you had to fight your urge to roll your eyes. Of course, he worked in Cali. You went to a university renowned for its engineering degree and it was the goal of every software engineering student to land an internship in California. Those lucky enough to achieve it used it as social currency and bragging rights. You despise those people. It wasn’t that you weren’t smart enough to land that opportunity, in fact, you were coming off of your internship with Facebook last term, but you always felt flaunting a job to be such an ugly trait. However, Namjoon was Jungkook’s friend and so you let it slide.

“Ah Twitch. Very cool.” you hummed as you drank.

“Yeah. What program are you in?” He asked, continuing the conversation as Jungkook disappeared to talk to his parents, trying to convince them to retire for the night since they had embarrassed him enough.

“Computer science,” you replied non-committedly, watching his face break into a wide smile.

“Oh, that’s so cool! Me too!” He replied excitedly. You had to admit, his smile was very charming and you let your guard down a little more. Maybe he just got influenced by kids in your program to brag about Cali. “I haven’t seen you in any of my classes though! Would’ve remembered you. None of the other compsci girls are this pretty.” He smirked, clearly proud of his flirtatious comment. You narrowed your eyes at him, immediately put off.

“So glad to know you deem me pretty enough to notice.” You rolled your eyes, before grabbing your bottle of tequila and a few disposable shot glasses and making your way to the living room. “Well, it was… okay to meet you. I’m gonna go do shots.”

“Wait! I’m sorry, did I offend you?” he asked, brows furrowed in confusion as he easily caught up to you, walking beside you and even sitting next to you on the floor, as you lined up the glasses to pour the drinks for everyone.

“No it’s cool, dude. We just don’t have anything in common,” you said nonchalantly as the rest of your friends crowded the table, excitedly taking a shot glass in hand as Jungkook waltzed in with a plate full of lime wedges and an intricately expensive-looking salt shaker. Namjoon didn’t say anything as everyone took their shots, but watched you throw back your drink, noticing the small smile that overtook your features as the alcohol from earlier finally started to take effect. 

After a few more shots, the party really started. Although there were only seven people, your rowdy, borderline chaotic group had you laughing. Hoseok was going on some tale about his adventures back home where he ended up at a bar with his high school friends and got the numbers of four girls by doing a disgustingly named muff-diver shot. He bragged about his game, and you burst his bubble by telling him it was really only because he was hot. Something he didn’t take much offence to as he wiggled his eyebrows at you. Namjoon, however, came to Hoseok’s defence, much to your annoyance.

“And how would you know? I doubt Hobi here has used his A+ game on you.” He raised an eyebrow in challenge, making you scoff as you rolled your eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well… you guys are friends, I doubt he would try to pick you up.” He spoke with a logical tone, as he eyed you and Hoseok.

“Oh really? Okay Hobi. Since your game is so great. Let’s see it.” You turned around, staring at your friend next to you. Namjoon leaned back against his hands on the floor, watching the scene unfold with a smirk.

“Really darling? Don’t blame me when you fall for me.” Hoseok moved closer, finishing his drink as you huffed in annoyance. You were in your first stage of drunk, the stage where you got mean for no reason

“Get on with it, loser. Your face is making me drier as we speak.” You waved as Hoseok leaned in, his nose rubbing gently against your ear, his breath on your neck, making you shiver slightly.

“Hey baby, how about you let me take you downstairs and defile you on Jungkook’s Iron Man sheets.” His voice was low, almost a growl. You never thought you would hear Hoseok’s sexy pickup voice and you were sure that if you were someone who had not seen him whine and cling onto you after a few drinks, you’d be putty in his hand. Instead, you burst out laughing, doubling over with your hands on his thighs as tears of mirth filled your eyes. Not one to give up that easily, Hoseok continued.

“See. I’m a funny guy Y/N. Let me eat that pussy!” He couldn’t hold back any longer either, his voice breaking at the word pussy as he too devolved into a fit of laughter. His comment, however, broke Yoongi and Jieun out of their bubble as they looked up from their make out session, looks of horror on their faces.

“Please tell me you did not just say that Hobi!” Jieun chided, her voice shrill.

“That’s fucking disgusting.” Yoongi shivered as he drank more of his whiskey in an attempt to calm himself. Hoseok and you continued laughing at your friends’ reaction, the rest of the group joining in, except Namjoon who seemed to be watching the two of you with raised brows.

“Wait. I don’t get it. That should’ve worked.”

“Yeah dude. Y/N what the fuck? Let me eat that pussy!” Hoseok grabbed you by the shoulders, shaking you while screaming at your face, between giggles.

“Oh my god. I’m gonna get a stomach ache. Stop!” you wheezed, before turning to Namjoon. “Sorry dude. I’ve literally helped Hobi pee once. There’s no going back to sexy when you see him whine about forgetting how urinating works.”

“Yeah and no offence babe, but you literally had your hands on my dick and it was flaccid as hell.”

“You guys are weirdly close,” Namjoon commented, his face scrunched as he assessed you and Hoseok.

“You think they’re close, you should see her and Jungkook. They even slept together!” Jimin remarks finally sitting down after dancing by himself for the past twenty minutes.

“And it was fucking horrible. High five!” Jungkook leans over the coffee table to slap his hand against yours, the two of you giggling.

“What kind of incestuous group is this?” Namjoon remarked, sipping his drink before turning to you where he watched you leaned over the table as you still slapped your hand against Jungkook’s to the beat of the music. “So when’s my turn?”

“Excuse me?” You recoil away from Namjoon, almost jumping in Hoseok’s lap. Oh here it was; stage two of your drunk persona, anger. You felt it coursing in your veins at his insinuation. “Who the fuck do you think I am?”

“Apparently the group dick toucher.” He smirked again, that annoying lopsided smile that made his one dimple deepen in his cheek. “I promise I won’t be flaccid like Hobi was.”

“Okay! Y/N and I are going on a walk!” Hoseok exclaimed as he saw your fist clenched. He knew you were ten seconds away from punching Namjoon in the face, and he put his arms around your waist and easily hoisted you up, walking you to the front door.

“Hobi I swear to god, I’m gonna murder him.” You glared at Namjoon as he returned your heated stare with an easy smile and a wave.

“I know babe. So we’re going on a walk. Let’s go pick up some food, yeah?”

The two of you walked around the block to the nearest McDonalds, picking up an assortment of cheeseburgers and chicken nuggets for the party, even getting Namjoon what he wanted, despite your burning desire that he starve to death. By the time, you returned to the party and took a couple more shots you were sufficiently cheered up. Hoseok had that affect on you, calming your mood with his jokes and anecdotes. 

Cuddled with Hoseok as you sat between his legs on the couch, the two of you shared a vape as you let the weed settle in your bones with a mellow buzz. Jimin sat in front of you on the floor, leaning against you as you ran your hands through his hair, enjoying the soft fluff. You were so glad that he had decided to forego his usual hair wax today. You felt like you were in utter bliss, your annoyance with Namjoon long forgotten. That is until you tuned into his conversation with Jungkook - not that you had any choice, because even though he seemed to be talking to Jungkook, his eyes were pointed at you.

“I’m just saying capitalism is the reason you’re sitting here in this nice home. People who can’t afford healthcare or education just need to work harder. That’s how life works.” Namjoon sipped his drink, raising an eyebrow at you, and you decidedly ignored his baiting. It was like he was trying to get you mad on purpose. You didn’t understand his gameplan. Why couldn’t he just let you enjoy bringing in 2017 like an adult?

“Dude… why are we even talking about this?” Jungkook groaned, face scrunching in distaste.

“I’m just saying people shouldn’t look for a handout when there are literally thousands of skills they could learn to make their lives easier. Why are we using our tax dollars for the lazy?” Namjoon shrugged nonchalantly, his gaze boring holes into you as you stared him down. Oh curse your stupid resolve, why did this fucker know you so well, you literally just met! Before you could stop yourself, you were speaking.

“I’m sorry, are you stupid? That is literally the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Education and healthcare are a human right!” Your voice was louder than usual, startling Hoseok and Jimin as you suddenly stood up, walking over to where a smug looking Namjoon and a confused Jungkook sat on the floor.

“I’m not, but you must be, to not realize that we could invest in teaching people skills to make money instead of just giving them money. Don’t tell me you’re a communist.” He sipped his drink, his eyes dancing with mirth, relishing the fact that he had gotten you to argue. And argue you did, for over an hour, the room forgotten as the two of you discussed social policies and taxation laws, ignoring Jungkook’s protests (“We live in a social democracy!”). You could feel the fire in your veins as you raised your voice, while he calmly discussed the matter at hand. Even though Namjoon was the most infuriating person you had ever met, the fact that he kept up with your arguments was extremely satisfying. Your friends knew you were the kind of person to debate a point until all the sides were uncovered so they would never start an argument with you, and as much as you hated Namjoon, you loved that he was such a great sparring partner.

“Oh my god! Shut the fuck up!” Jimin yelled suddenly, breaking you and Namjoon out of your bubble, as you looked at your usually bubbly friend, staring daggers at you. You sheepishly apologized, just as the countdown began.

Everyone stood and you followed suit. However the alcohol in your body decided to catch up as you stumbled, instinctively grabbing on to Namjoon’s arm to not fall over. As you’ve started to realize is his ammo, he one-upped you, putting his arm around your waist and pulling you into his chest. Fuck, why does it feel so nice and firm?

The countdown got closer to one and you felt trapped by his gaze, an intense look in his eye as he smirked at you. His eyes travelled from your eyes to your lips and you felt as if your chest was getting tighter.

“Three!” your friends yelled, but your mouth felt too dry to speak up. You licked your lips and Namjoon’s smirk widened. Why did you find his arrogant face so attractive all of a sudden? You wanted to punch him not two seconds ago!

“Two!” He started to lean in and despite yourself, you started anticipating his lips on yours. 

“One!” Suddenly, your earlier resolve kicked in. No dude who insulted you all night was going to touch you. You pushed him off turning around to Jungkook.

“Happy New Year!” You pulled your best friend towards you by his collar, giving him a loud peck on the lips as everyone cheered. Jungkook smiled, pulling you into a hug and jostling you around, giving you a chance to catch the dumbfounded look on Namjoon’s face.

You hugged all of your friends in turn, and when Namjoon, still with his mouth slightly ajar, looked at you expectantly, you raised your hand to him with a smug smile. You kind of felt bad for the way he deflated before he shook your hand, but before you could dwell too much on that feeling, he tugged you closer.

“Well played,” he whispered in your ear, his breath ghosting your neck, and you felt heat rising up your neck. You pulled away with a scowl and before he could say anything else, your phone pinged, the screen lit with the last name you wanted to see.

Taehyung (3 messages)

Oh great. What did the fuck did he want?

-

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[pedros-mustache-main]

baby, it’s cold outside

summary: for too long you’ve been cooped up. perhaps they will be the ones to change that...

word count: 12k

warnings: mostly tropey-wintery goodness, however: accident related trauma and nightmares, language, innuendo, brief suggestive content, absolute timeline inaccuracy but i don’t care!!!!, could also be described as queen x reader but we’ll ignore that

a/n: this is a little different from my normal, but i hope you enjoy this slow and gentle fic as much as i do. happy holidays, dear ones!! 

also thank you to @dancingdiscofloof​ for your help with this one! (if you aren’t reading rove’s deaky fic, you are sincerely missing out.) 

december, 1981. montreux, switzerland. 

day zero.

in the aftermath of the accident, the cabin in the alps has been your saving grace. though the home is overly large for just one person and a cat, you cannot imagine living anywhere other than here. it is a balm to your weary soul, having nursed your broken bones and shattered spirit better than any modern medicine. it is here you began again, rising like a phoenix from the ashes, and it is here you will remain—happily.

you cherish the cabin and all the memories etched within the handcrafted walls and sturdy pine beams. each morning as you make your tea and scratch behind marmalade’s ears, you hear the laughter of your childhood echoing through time and space to reach you in the here and now. each evening as you shut off the lights and secure the doors, you smell your grandfather’s pipe smoke, though the artifact is tucked away on the fireplace mantle, now cold with neglect.

your mother, father, grandfather—they’re all gone now. it’s just you and marmalade. you’re content, though, even as you crawl in bed and snuggle beneath the covers night after night and wake up morning after morning with the promise of another solitary day.

truly, the isolation does not bother you. after the accident, it’s people—crowds and gatherings and meetings—who have become the irritant. wherever people congregate, so too does danger. you’ve experienced your fair share of hazardous situations, so you prefer the quiet mountainside now. there’s less peril, less chance for heartache.

each year, after the last of autumn’s leaves have fallen and snow begins to blanket the alpine hills, you tuck yourself away in the cabin until the end of winter. the larder in your basement remains well-stocked with all the essentials—human, feline, or otherwise—and the weeks come and go without issue. you play your records in the afternoons to fill the silence and watch the television as you eat your suppers. marmalade makes for a good conversational partner when the loneliness creeps in—and it does on occasion. still, the orange tabby cat, fat with laziness and all the love you have to offer, tilts her head when you speak and meows softly when you lift your eyebrows in expectation of a response. she’s all you need, really; but the infrequent calls you have with your boss do make up for your lack of human interaction. editing manuscripts can be done anywhere, and, so long as you meet your deadlines, your boss doesn’t care where you get the work done.

early in december, on a dreary evening, the radio encourages all listeners to batten down the hatches in preparation for a nasty snowstorm due to sweep through the mountain and the valley overnight. you look away from your mug of steaming hot cocoa and shoot marmalade a grin.

“sounds fun, yeah?” you ask her, wiggling your eyebrows.

from her place on the yellow laminate tabletop, marmalade pauses her grooming session. her paw hangs midair, the tip of her tongue hanging over her small chin. she drops her paw as you move to curl your hand beneath her stomach and lift her to your hip.

“i know you like snowstorms just as much as i do,” you say.

leaving the kitchen in favor of the open living room, you nudge the overhead light off with your knuckle. it flickers before shutting off, but soon leaves the cabin illuminated solely by the lights of the christmas tree in the corner. the cocoa trembles along the lip of the mug, so you step gingerly. your socks snag against the faded carpet, but you make it to the sofa in one piece. marmalade hops from your arms and curls herself on the far side of the couch, her tail tucked snug around her body.

knees against your chest, you sip your cocoa and bounce your eyes between the christmas tree and the bay window overlooking montreux’s city-center at the base of the mountain. both the lights of the tree and the lights of the city twinkle in the darkness, rivaling any of the brightest stars. tree branches scrape against the roof, following the path of the wind, and, if you squint hard enough, the first of the snowstorm’s flakes are visible through the pale beam of the floodlight outside.

a sigh rattles your chest, and you smile.

it’s a quiet life. some might say a lonely one. but even if they’re right, you wouldn’t change it.

not for anything.

day one.

you wake up late.

normally, you rise with your alarm and keep to a consistent schedule. it helps with the monotony of your life and stops you from wasting time lounging in the comfort of your bed. some days, though, you allow yourself a few extra hours, and the morning after a snowstorm seems the perfect day to sleep in a tad longer.

it reminds you of childhood—the mornings you listened to the radio beneath your bed covers, fingers crossed your school would be announced as closed due to inclement weather. when the inevitable joy came, you would snuggle back in bed; though by then, the glee of a surprise day off of school was all too much too bear, and you were up and moving within moments.

you smile to yourself at the memory, at the way your mother made pancakes every snow day, without fail. you miss her pancakes.

when marmalade pounces onto the end of your bed, meowing sharply, you sit up. “what? are you hungry?” twisting, you glance at the analog clock across your bedroom. “it’s only nine, marmy.”

she presses your foot with her paw, meowing again.

“fine.”

slipping from bed, you cross to your dresser and drag a brush through your sleep-rustled hair. as always, a sliver of cold seeps in through the skylight overhead, and you lift your face, smiling at the sight of snow obscuring the heavens. your smile only widens as you hurry down the stairs, elbows fighting against the arms of your robe.

the world is drenched in snow. you trip to the bay window, press your hand against the cold glass, and grin. a layer of fluffy white powder clings to every nook and cranny of the mountainside. hints of evergreen peak through as the only spots of color in an otherwise white world. even the sky reflects the dazzling brilliance of the snow, and you have to blink rapidly to keep from going blind.

marmalade’s bell collar jingles as she makes her way down the stairs. she stretches at the bottom step, meowing again when she sees you.

“okay, okay, miss impatient.” you shake your head as you turn from the window. “we have the whole day, you know? ‘s not like there will be much else going on around here.”

you turn on the radio as you enter the kitchen. a soft melody—“merry christmas darling” by the carpenters—sets you to a gentle sway as you pour marmalade’s food and set about making your own breakfast.

karen’s warm voice distracts you from the first knock on your door.

keeping marmalade away from the bacon in the cast-iron skillets hinders you from answering the second.

the third, though—the third knock makes you scream.

it’s not so much of a knock as it is a hand slammed against the outside of the bay window, dark eyes peering into your sanctuary, winter cap pulled tight over any discernible features save a thick mustache. you screech, dropping the spatula in your hand to the floor. marmalade drives for the grease-covered utensil, and you trip over her in your haste to hide in the narrow closet beneath the stairs.

perhaps he hadn’t heard you? perhaps he hadn’t seen the streak of multi-colored fabric as you rushed across the living room in your purple robe and bright yellow socks?

who are you kidding? the bay window offers a glimpse into the majority of your home: the small living room, equally as small kitchen, stairs leading to the bedrooms on the second floor. he probably even saw you fling open the closet door and close it. if he did make it inside, he wouldn’t have to search for long in order to find you.

you press a hand over your mouth, squeezing your eyes shut, at the sound of another bang against the door.

this—this was why your aunt in sheffield had pleaded for you not to take the cabin after the accident. she was so afraid you’d be murdered by a crazed hiker or wayward bear. you’d laughed at the thought back then.

but here you are now, cowering in your closet between a hoover and a winter coat, preparing to make her worst fear a living reality. you only hope marmalade enjoyed the bacon grease as a parting gift.

a muffled voice drifts through the walls after a beat of silence. “for god’s sake, we know you’re in there!”

we? your heart rate triples at the simple, two-letter word. we!

drawing in a deep breath, you root around in the darkened closet for a makeshift weapon. this is your home; you will defend it. or at least do your best to scare off the intruders with whatever fake bravado you can muster.

finding nothing, you inch out of the closet and crawl on your hands and knees toward the kitchen. you pause long enough behind the sofa to peer over the arm. another man has his face pressed against the window, his eyes narrowed as he looks over the room. he looks to his right, long curls bobbing with the motion. his mouth moves, but only garbled sounds meet your ears. while he’s distracted, you crawl into the kitchen and grab the cast-iron skillet. it feels hefty in your palm, and you judge the weight with a turn of your wrist. it could do some serious damage if handled correctly. flicking the oven off and dumping the burnt bacon in the trash, you curl both hands around the handle of the skillet and slink toward the door.

no one stands before the window as you make your way through the living room. no one bangs against the door. yet you can feel their presence on the other side of the flimsy piece of wood separating you from them.

you swallow hard as you grasp the cold doorknob, twisting the lock to the side.

steeling yourself, you grit your jaw, and, in one quick motion, throw open the door, brandish the skillet overhead, and roar like a lioness.

“oh fuck!” one of the four men on your front porch stumbles backward in surprise. his arms pinwheel as he loses his balance and drops to his backside on the snowy ground.

the one with the cascading curls can only stare at you with wide eyes and parted lips, stunned to frozen. for his part, the one with the mustache shields himself behind the one with the curls, shouting for someone named deaky to get her to understand.

it is the one with the straight, grecian nose and storm cloud eyes—deaky, you surmise—who speaks to you first. he holds his arms out in defense, his long fingers splayed wide. he glances between the skillet over your head and your face.

“we’re not here to hurt you,” he says. his voice is even and calm, though more unique than you would have originally guessed. you thought all bad guys had deep voices. his voice is too pleasant, and it sets you further on edge.

you deepen your frown, drawing in another breath. “isn’t that what they all say?”

he frowns. “i don’t know who they are.”

“thieves. murderers. criminals!” you lift your skillet slightly higher, and he flinches backward, hands raising a fraction. “i’m not afraid to use this!”

“i don’t doubt it!” he shakes his head, and his eyelashes flutter when a wayward snowflake catches in his vision. “really, though, we just want to use your phone.”

“my… phone?”

with an exasperated sigh, the blond who’d fallen to his rump in the snow shoulders past deaky. “yes, your phone. you do have one, don’t you? we need to get down this godforsaken mountain before our tits freeze off!”

deaky twists and scowls at his friend, hissing, “roger!”

roger waves him off with a dark look. “deaky, i nearly broke my ass with that stunt she pulled. i’m cold, my trousers are wet, and i want to go home. you’ll have to forgive me if i’m a little terse, you twat.”

the one with long curls and sharp facial features gently moves roger out from under deaky’s increasingly cold stare. he places himself between the pair, towering over the other two. despite his height, he holds his shoulders in a noticeable hunch, as though attempting to make himself smaller. he offers you a wry grin.

“sorry for startling you,” he says. his voice is soft and decidedly unthreatening; your tight hold on the skillet goes slack. “i’m brian. these are my friends—roger, john, and freddie. we’re kind of in a bind, and we’d really appreciate it if you lent us your phone. just for a quick call. then we’ll be gone.”

you glance between the foursome. though roger’s face is still shadowed by frustration, they seem harmless enough. maybe a little cranky, but mostly harmless.

unless, of course, that’s what they want you to think.

your aunt’s warning that you trust too easily plays in the back of your mind, and you consider that she might be right. you bite your lower lip, prepared to turn them away, when marmalade jingles her way into the conversation. she curls around your ankle, head lifted to stare at the four men on her porch. the bell around her neck sounds as she turns from side to side around your leg.

“you didn’t say you had a cat!” the one with the mustache—freddie—coos in delight. he crouches, clicking his tongue to gain marmalade’s attention. after a beat of hesitation, she inches forward to sniff the proffered hand. you watch, and when marmalade nuzzles her nose against freddie’s palm, the tension in your shoulders dissipates.  

you sigh with a conciliatory smile. “well, if she trusts you, i suppose i will too.” stepping to the side, you nod to the living room. “come in and warm up.”

the men mumble various forms of gratitude and shuffle past you, sure to stomp their snowy boots against the welcome mat outside the door. they crowd around the low fire in the fireplace, and you hurry to toss a few logs on the dying embers. deaky takes the fire poker from your hand when you grab it from its place nestled along the extra pile of wood. his fingertips skim your knuckles, and you’re struck by how warm he feelings despite the weather outside. you meet his gaze, your eyes wide as you wait for him to explain.

“i can do that,” he says. “maybe you can show brian the phone?”

now that he’s shed his overcoat, you note the way his pale blue sweater brings out the pale blue of his eyes. he really is quite handsome. they all are, and it’s been a long time since you were in the presence of a handsome man, let alone four. who can blame you for being a little tongue tied?

you blink when you realize you’ve stared a bit too long. heat rushes to your cheeks, and you turn away, scanning the small room for brian. “right, yes. the phone.”

you find brian stood between the living area and the kitchen, his hands in his pockets, stiff while his counterparts make themselves comfortable. roger lounges on the sofa, his legs spread toward the fire. freddie sits at the kitchen table, marmalade snuggled beneath his chin. and with the fire now flooding the cabin with warmth, deaky drops to the single armchair facing the kitchen.

you motion to brian’s wet coat. “would you like to take your coat off, brian? you look awfully damp.”

he shakes his head. “i’m alright.”

you decide not to press and instead point to the phone attached to the wall. “the phone’s just there. do you need a number? or do you have what you need?”

“actually, do you have a number for the gondola lift?”

“yeah, of course.”

you step past him to pull open a junk drawer. apart from a winding, perilous road, the gondola lift is the only way down the mountain for the few people who live mountainside year round.  you’ve gotten to know the owner and operator—jimmy schmits—well after your several years living in the cabin. he or someone on his staff is only a phone call away should you need travel assistance, and you prefer the gondola ride to taking your beat-up car down the rocky, poorly paved road.

you hand brian a small, cardstock business card. “that’s the number there.”

he glances down then gives you a tight smile. “thanks.”

turning to allow him what privacy you can in the cramped space, you glance around the room at the three pairs of eyes staring back at you. the laugh that escapes from behind your lips is decidedly nervous, wavering and forced. “sorry. i just—this is a bit weird for me. i would have dressed the part had i known people were coming over.” you suck in a breath and nod to the refrigerator. “have any of you eaten?”

roger opens his mouth to say something, but deaky hurries to speak first, leaning forward in the armchair. “yes, thank you. we ate early this morning.”

roger’s face contorts to a frown, and, in what you assume is supposed to be a surreptitious move, deaky kicks his friend’s shin to silence any further protest. you look away when deaky’s eyes find yours again, his gaze apologetic.

“i’ll just make some tea, then,” you mumble.

the quiet in the room is thick, save for brian’s soft voice coming from the hall as he talks on the phone. you keep your back to the three men as you prepare a kettle for tea.

you spend much of winter in solitude, and truly, you like it that way. this sudden influx of company has you on edge, especially considering your less-than-becoming attire, bedhead, and sleepy eyes. you don’t know what to say to alleviate the discomfort in the room, aren’t really sure if it’s your job to make them feel comfortable.

really, you aren’t sure about anything this morning.

as you wait for the water to boil, you lean against the kitchen counter and cross your arms over your chest. the fuzzy neck of your robe rubs against your chin as you duck your head, and you study the worn tile floor beneath your long socks.

“what’s your cat’s name?”

you look up. it’s the one with the mustache—freddie. his brown eyes are warm, and he scratches beneath marmalade’s chin as he waits for your answer. for marmalade’s part, she purrs happily in his arms, seemingly more comfortable with your guests than yourself. “marmalade,” you say.

freddie grins, and you can’t help but find yourself smiling back. “perfect name. yet we seem to be missing one important thing…”

“what’s that?”

“your name. if we’re going to intrude upon your cabin and make you uncomfortable, i think we should know who to send the gift basket to once we’re rescued.”

your brow pinches slightly in confusion. freddie speaks with a certain air that you can’t quite place—one of regality, you think. you glance at deaky across the room, and he moves his eyes to the fire as he gnaws on his lower lip.

you look back at freddie, give him your name, then say, “and you’re not making me uncomfortable.”

“please,” freddie deadpans. “i know discomfort when i see it.” he lets marmalade go, who jumps to the floor, padding her way from the tiled kitchen to the carpeted living room. he stands from the table and points to the stove. “the kettle is ready, love.”

you hadn’t heard the sharp whistle, so engrossed were you in your own thoughts.

“oh!” spinning on your heel, you flip the stove-top off and remove the kettle, the whistle dying to a light trill. freddie arranges a ramshackle collection of mugs along the counter, pulled from the spinning rack in the corner. “thank you,” you whisper, as you divvy out the hot water and he drops the tea bags into the mugs.

freddie gathers the milk and sugar, making himself both useful and right at home, which you find you don’t mind too much, though it surprises you how he moves with such ease and command around a home not his own. he must be comfortable anywhere and with anyone, and you envy him that.

he carefully sets the tea tray on the low coffee table in the living room. “how do you take your tea, darling?” he asks you, bending over, his ass pointed near the fire, as he makes to prepare your cup.

you skirt into the living room, shaking your head. “oh, you don’t have to—”

he arches an eyebrow, and his voice is firm when he speaks. “how do you take your tea?”

with a small smile, you lower yourself beside roger on the couch, careful to keep a large space between you. “more sugar than milk, please.”

freddie prepares your cup then passes you the steaming mug. your smile widens in gratitude as you take the warm ceramic from his hands. he prepares his own tea before dropping to the brick ledge of the fireplace. he waves his hand in dismissal at roger and deaky.

“you two make your own,” he quips. “you’ve thoroughly pissed me off this morning.”

from behind the lip of your mug, you pull your mouth into an amused line. your eyes dart to deaky, who is bent forward, frozen as he reaches for a mug of tea. he skewers freddie with an unamused look.

“this isn’t my fault, fred,” he says.

from beside you, roger’s deliciously high voice pipes up. “nor mine!”

“no, of course it isn’t your fault, roger. we wouldn’t dare accuse you of—”

before freddie can finish his sentence, brian returns from the side hall. you shift, turning your head along with the others to hear what came of his conversation with the gondola lift owner.

brian rubs the back of his neck, his eyebrows tilted upward in apology. “well, the gondola is down today.”

“all day?” you speak a little too quickly, and you wince, dropping your eyes to the pale liquid in your mug.

brian nods. “yeah—at least until tomorrow. i guess a tree fell after we were dropped off this morning and struck a line on the lift. and the road isn’t clear, so… we’re stuck.” he glances between his friends, the hunch of his shoulders growing as the weight of their predicament sets in.

“well…” you start. you lean forward to place your tea on a worn coaster. “i certainly won’t turn you out with nowhere to go.” for what feels like the tenth time this morning, you draw in a deep breath through your teeth to steady yourself. “i suppose you lot can stay the night, then. that is, if you want to...”

there’s a beat, a moment of heavy silence, before brian says, “we couldn’t impose like that.”

you frown. “where else would you go?”

roger snorts. “brian would sleep beneath a tree if he thought it might make your life a little easier.”

you glance at roger, uncertain if his words are more jest than jab. the half-smile on his face fades under your questioning gaze, and he shifts. “i just mean,” he continues, “that brian is the most chivalrous out of all of us. not that we have any ugly intentions—”

“roger.” it’s deaky this time, and he sounds more than a little perturbed. “stop talking.”

you hesitate before explaining your offer further. “it’ll be a squeeze,” you say. “but we can make it work. i would rather you spend the night here then wander around in the cold and freeze to death. my closest neighbor is four kilometers off, and she doesn’t have electricity. you won’t be able to find her cabin if it gets dark.”

freddie shivers, though you’re sure his backside is nice and toasty from where he sits close to the fire. “oh good god,” he mutters, bringing his tea close to his mouth. “you people are insane.”

deaky catches your eye, and his brow arches. “if you’re sure…”

you nod. “i’m sure.”

“thank you. honestly, you’re a life-saver.” brian’s shoulders seem to straighten as a smile eases the lines on his forehead. he offers you his hand, which you shake, as he says, “and i’m sorry, but i didn’t catch your name while i was on the phone.”

you give him your name, and he grins, nodding to his friends. “in case you forgot: i’m brian may, and that’s roger taylor, john deacon, and freddie mercury.”

there’s something vaguely familiar about the names, particularly freddie’s, but you can’t quite put your finger on where you’ve heard that lineup before. frowning, you glance between the four men, who stare back at you with expectant sort of faces, as if they’re waiting for the lightbulb above your head to illuminate. you run through the rolodex of names in your brain, but come up short.

“are you performers or something? i swear i’ve heard your names before.”

“we’re in a band,” roger says.

you cringe in apology. “i’m afraid i don’t know bands very well. my radio—i only get one station up here, and it’s mostly yodeling. christmas is the only time of year i can pick up anything worthwhile. got any christmas songs?”

“no, and i’m not sure we will.”

“what band, then? maybe i’ve heard of you on the off chance, but don’t take it to heart if i haven’t.”

freddie leans forward in expectation. “we’re called queen. ring any bells?”

you consider before nodding. “i think so. there’s only one song that comes to mind, though. another one bites the… something? dust, maybe?”

with a laugh, freddie slaps his hand against deaky—john’s knee. “that’s deaky’s song!”

you find yourself smiling—and easily—for the first time since waking. “really? i like it!” shrugging your shoulders in time with the bassline, you do a poor imitation of the song’s opening. beside you, roger laughs, shoving john’s shoulder when a flush creeps up his cheeks. “it’s fun!”

john nods once, mumbling, “thanks.” he drops his cheek to his hand, eyes falling to the carpet, and your smile softens.

you look away, sparing him further embarrassment. “so, i’m in the presence of royalty, i guess, but all i have to offer you is my parent’s old bed, which can fit two, a trundle mattress in my bedroom, and a military cot in the basement.”

brian squeezes your arm in reassurance. “anything will suit us fine. we’re just glad we found you.”

“i’m glad i can help,” you say, and even if it were for this moment alone, you’re glad you never listened to your aunt in sheffield.

day two.

you wake the next morning with a gasp, panic shooting straight to your heart when you roll over and see a man lying on the floor next to your bed. your first instinct is to scream, to call for help, but then the fogginess of slumber lifts from your mind. you recognize the man on the floor, and your defenses drop in relief.

you’d forgotten.

the previous day’s events seem more like something out of a dream than reality. four men—four famous men—appearing on your doorstep? getting stuck in your cabin after a technological malfunction? challenging one another to a game of rock-paper-scissors in order to determine sleeping arrangements? surely you’d made that up, a dream produced by an overactive imagination and too much time alone.

but no—the presence of one john deacon, asleep on the trundle bed extended from beneath your mattress confirms your current reality. you run your eyes over his sleeping face and note the stillness with which he softly snores, one arm tucked behind his pillow. he looks peaceful.

you hope you didn’t disturb his sleep during the night. ever since the accident, nightmares tend to plague your dreams. at least twice a week, you shoot out of bed, drenched in sweat and crying out in the empty darkness of your room. you can’t remember if you’d dreamt at all last night, but you’d shrivel up and die of embarrassment if any of your frantic kicking or mumbling had woken him.

“do you always stare at people when they sleep?”

“shit!” you crash backwards against the wall in surprise at the sound of john’s sleepy voice. your head connects with the paneled wood behind you, and you curse again, rubbing the sore spot on your skull.

“do you always have such a dirty mouth too?” he’s propped up on his elbow now, eyes gleaming with a mischief you hadn’t seen yesterday. his curls lay askew on his head, and his shirt—a flannel pulled from the depths of your grandfather’s belongings—swallows his torso.

continuing to rub your head, you frown. “do you always insist on asking so many questions this early in the morning?”

“only when people stare at me while i sleep.”

you drop your hand, wrinkling your nose in embarrassment. “sorry.” although the tip of your nose is cold, your cheeks feel warm with a flush. “i didn’t think you were awake, and i was… thinking. i wasn’t really staring at you.”

half-truth. maybe a quarter-truth. your four guests are handsome—each of them in their own right—but john… he has the potential to make your knees go wobbly should he flash you one of his secretive and elusive grins.

but, in all truth, you were thinking of other things as you’d looked down at him: thinking about the day and your work and how soft his hair looked and the strength of his nose and—

john rolls off the trundle bed. when he stands, he swivels his arms back and forth, stretching his back muscles. “’s okay. i’m getting used to it.” before you can ask him what he means, he points to the skylight in the middle of your room. “i’ve got a feeling we’re in for a rude awakening.”

your gaze follows his extended finger, and you huff when you see the skylight entirely darkened by a heavy layer of snow. yesterday afternoon, you had still been able to make out the sun’s rays through the unmelted snow leftover from the recent storm. now, the skylight serves more as an extension of your stippled ceiling than an opportunity to glimpse the night sky.

“must have been another storm last night,” you say, slipping out of bed.

you don’t miss the way john’s eyes immediately flit to your legs and your exposed thighs. your nightshirt falls to the middle of your thighs, a long pair of socks pulled over your knees your only leg coverings. his eyebrows shoot up his forehead, his lips slightly parted, but he looks away when you shift uncomfortably with the hem of your shirt. damn your mother for passing on her penchant for hot sleeping!

he gathers his clothes from a chair in the corner and nods to the door. “i’ll just go… change downstairs.”

your nod is too enthusiastic to be anything but embarrassed. “yeah, okay. i’ll be down in a moment. help yourself to whatever you find in the kitchen.”

john, holding his clothes to his chest, leaves the room in a hurry, his head down and eyes averted. when the door shuts, the lock giving a soft click as it slides home, you drop to your bed with a groan.

it might be a long day.

after fixing your hair and pulling on a fresh pair of jeans and sweater, you make your way down the stairs and into the living room. a chill hangs in the air, one much deeper than the general winter cold. it goes straight to your bones and makes your teeth chatter in your skull. shivering, you circle your arms around your waist, prepared to go start a fresh fire in the hearth, but something in the corner of your eye stops you.

your guests—all four of them in a line, their mismatched heights on full display—staring out the bay window.

“what is it?” you ask, bending to lift marmalade from the floor when she jingles her way over from the kitchen. “did it really snow that much?”

roger looks over his shoulder, and the disappointment shadowing his face gives you pause. “come see for yourself.” he drops to the couch with a defeated groan, cradling his forehead in his hand.

holding marmalade against your shoulder, you tiptoe to the window, the floor beneath your feet unusually frigid. you exhale at the sight of the fresh snowfall, and your breath clouds the windowpane. a thick layer of white powder covers the mountainside. as far as your eye can see, there’s nothing but pure white. it’s blinding in the morning sun, and you blink against the glistening snowflakes.

“it’s got to be at least one meter,” brian whispers. “maybe more.”

freddie shakes his head back and forth, gesturing to the side. “i can’t even see the bloody porch steps. they’ve been swallowed!”

john shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “no power either.”

you twist to stare at him in shock. “what? no power?”

he gives you the briefest of glances then returns his gaze to the window. “i checked the breaker. it’s all out.”

from the couch, roger groans again. “which means we are stuck for the foreseeable future. brian called the gondola and they couldn’t even pick up, so that’s out of the question.” he slumps further down the couch cushions. “i had a fucking holiday party planned for next week.”

“now wait a minute.” brian turns from the window and reaches over to give roger’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “the snow will clear up before then. it’ll just be a few more days. that is”—his eyes slide to you—“if you’ll let us stay?”

you glance between your guests before laughing in indignation. “you didn’t really think i’d turn you out, did you?” marmalade hops from your arms when you plant your hands on your hips. “honestly, i might be somewhat of a recluse, but i’m not completely rude.”

freddie skirts around john to place both hands on your shoulders and steer you toward the kitchen. “no one thinks you’re rude, darling. we just didn’t want to assume.” he jerks his head toward john. “now, john will start the fire and we’ll all get cozy and perhaps play a game of scrabble. roger found the board downstairs last night. how does that sound?”

you meet john’s eyes over freddie’s shoulder, and he smiles—ever so slightly, but enough to drop your defensive stance. you nudge freddie with your arm and nod. “scrabble it is.”

after breakfast, you are quickly bested in the shortest game of scrabble you’ve ever played. it seems your guests are quite the experts, so you leave them to their fun in order to complete a series of edits on your latest manuscript. from the kitchen table, you can hear them bickering over whether or not freddie’s addition is a dictionary defined word or whether or not john can go twice in one turn because roger knocked his letters from the coffee table.

the gentle hum of conversation—of life—warms your chest. it’s been a long time since your home felt lived in. for so long you have simply subsisted, moving from room to room to change the scenery, leaving the mountain only when necessary, never truly engaging with the outside world. it’s easier to live alone—there’s less risk in it, less wondering if today could be the last day you interact with a loved one because fate has some cruel trick up its sleeve.

but, damn, if having roger and john and brian and freddie grace your living room doesn’t remind you of how irritatingly necessary other people are to living a truly fulfilled life.

brian asks if he can prepare a light lunch, and while he does, you gather your work and set it aside. you have a deadline—the first of the year—but for the moment, you’d rather engage with others instead of shoving your head deep within the made-up realms of your novelists.

with a dramatic stretch, you raise your arms above your head and groan as the muscles pop in your back.

“all done, then?” freddie asks.

“for now,” you say.

he pats the open spot of the couch between himself and john, and you squeeze between them, tilting your socked feet toward the roaring fire. you find yourself still shivering slightly, despite the extra layer beneath your sweater and warm wool socks. if you remember correctly, your father had complained of poor insulation in the attic. you wish, perhaps a bit selfishly, he’d gotten that fixed before his passing.

“here.” john shimmies one side of the blanket draped over his shoulders around yours. “we can share.”

“thanks,” you whisper, grabbing the corner he offers and pulling it around your back. the movement draws him closer, the outside of his thigh pressed tightly against yours. he feels warm, though, like your own little space heater, and you resist the urge to lean into him for further comfort. instead, you focus your attention on freddie, who explains how he and his bandmates came to be stranded on a swiss mountainside.

“so, really, it’s roger’s fault that we’re in this predicament,” freddie says. “he was the one who wanted to go skiing.”

you tilt your head to the side, confused as you glance toward the front door. “where is all your gear, then? you didn’t bring any in.”

john sighs with a shake of his head. “we forgot that in the hotel.”

“no one is brilliant at five am, dear. except for maybe brian, but even he failed to remind us that the first rule of skiing is you need skis.” freddie shrugs his shoulders. “oh well. it brought us to you, didn’t it?”

smiling, you nod. beside you, john shifts a little closer. his free hand rests on his leg, but his pinky finger extends outward, brushing along the outer seam of your jeans. your grin widens.

“yeah, i suppose it did.”

day three.

it’s just past midnight when you tumble from the depths of your nightmare.

the accident—replaying—over and over and over. the twist of the car over the edge of the ravine. you, powerless, helpless as you watch from the safety of your grandfather’s truck. the crunch of metal against rock and tree and—

—and the ultimate knowledge that there was no way your parents could survive such a fall settling over your heart like a three-ton brick.

you jerk awake with a barely-contained screech. clamping your hand over your mouth, you squeeze your eyes shut, willing away the images that flash through your mind like some sort of cruel slideshow. blood and guts and screams and—

a warm hand on your shoulder, soft voice in your ear saying your name, pulls you back to reality. “hey. hey, wake up.”

your eyes flutter open, sleeve of your shirt caught between your teeth where you bite down hard. in the dim light of the room, you can make out the angles of john’s face, the line of his nose, pout of his lips. a soft glow—from the nightlight in the corner, you think—shrouds the curls on his head, giving him the curve of a halo.

your ribs shudders as you exhale. he looks like an angel, an angel sent to save you perhaps. never in your lift have you so badly wanted to embrace someone in relief.

instead, you drop the hand from your mouth and lean closer to the wall at your side, away from him. “huh? wha—oh… john, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to wake you.”

his grip on your shoulder tightens, and he ignores your apology. “what’s wrong?”

“nothing. just a nightmare.”

“some nightmare.” john’s hand slips from your shoulder to your elbow, and he rubs his cheek with his opposite hand. “you hit me.”

“fuck, did i? oh hell, john.”

scrambling to your knees, you frown into the darkness, searching for a welt or bruise blossoming on his cheek. it’s too dark to see clearly, though, and you sigh in defeat, hanging your head. embarrassment swells in your stomach, wrenching it side to side, and you turn your face away, hoping against hope that he can’t see the evidence of your fluster.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper.

more than anything, more than the embarrassment roiling through your system and the nerves wracking your chest, you find yourself feeling frustrated. two day—two days with queen in the house, and two days you’ve felt a magnetic pull towards john. maybe you’re just lonely and maybe you’re just reading too much into the stolen glances and brushes of his hand against yours, but having him here in the house with you? tossing your sideways looks when freddie says something that makes you laugh and helping you pull the biscuit tin from its place on the top of the shelf? you’d thought that maybe—just maybe—he might see something worthwhile in you, too.

but no rockstar could put up with you. surely, he must see that plainly now. your fear of crowds and loud noises and your night terrors—that’s not made for the high life. he would go once he got the chance, forget about you and you cat in the cabin on the mountainside. why you ever considered for a moment he would do otherwise further stokes the shame threatening to consume you.

you fiddle with the sheets and blankets gathered around your knees. “you can sleep downstairs, if you like,” you say in a rush. your grip tightens on the quilt binding, and you rub your thumb back and forth across a frayed string. “i won’t mind.”

john remains still and quiet for so long you think he must’ve fallen back asleep. but then he stands, and he gently nudges your shoulder.

“scoot over,” he urges, and you find yourself inching closer to the wall without a second thought. john slides into bed next to you, his body warm and strong. “is this okay?”

you nod because, truly, yes, it is okay with you. very much okay.

“when i was little,” he starts, adjusting the quilts around his chest, his ankle brushing your leg. “i had this dog, and any time i had a nightmare, he would crawl into bed with me, help it all go away. i know i’m not as fluffy as a dog, but… well, i thought maybe we might see if this helps it go away.” he pauses for a breath and asks again, “is that okay?”

“yeah, yeah, it’s okay.” your voice is a puff of air, and if it were any colder, you’re sure your breath would crystalize.

“good.” he settles deeper into your shared pillow, and you catch a whiff of your shampoo in his hair. it makes your stomach clench, not from embarrassment, but an entirely different emotion. beneath the covers, one of his hands slips over the curve of your wrist, and his fingers tangle with yours. he gives your palm a squeeze. “go back to sleep.”

you do—easily.

john’s heartbeat is steady beneath your ear when your eyes flutter open for the second time. you’d rested without struggle for the first time in a long time. your shoulders feel loose, your eyes free from heavy circles.

and it’s all because of john.

your cheek is firm against his chest, and the fabric of your grandfather’s flannel still smells like his cigar smoke, but there’s something else, something distinctly john, and it’s all you can do to not turn your face further into his chest and snuggle closer to his side. he’s warm, and you’re still cold despite the heavy blankets cocooning you. his arm is slung over your back, drawing you tighter to his chest, his face turned to the side as he breathes softly in sleep.

you should get up, go downstairs, and find something to eat, check to see if the power has returned. you’d rather stay here, in this quiet, still moment, until the rest of the world fades away and you are left with him and him alone. your wish isn’t meant to be, it seems, because just as you are prepared to lean further into john’s warmth and return to sleep, freddie bursts through the door.

you jolt upwards at the sound of the door slamming against the wall. john is right behind you, and his arm instinctively tightens around your back.  

the grin on freddie’s face is positively shit-eating, and he puts his hands on his hips as he looks between you and john with something between pride and amusement. “oh! well, well, well, what do we have here?!”

“fuck, fred.” john releases his hold on you, moving to run a hand down his face to cover his yawn. “damn near pissed myself.”

“yes, i’m sure.” freddie chuckles to himself then cocks his head toward the open door. “make yourselves presentable. we’ve got decorating to do.”

he exits without further explanation, leaving a ball of confusion and uncertainty in your stomach and a proverbial elephant in the room. you fiddle with the end of your sleeve, wondering if john thinks the silence is as thick as you do.

“you seem to have slept better,” he says at last.

you turn, and his face is so near yours you could kiss him. instead, you just nod and say, “yes, i did. thanks to you.”

he shrugs, shaking his head. “i’m a selfish guy. i didn’t want to get hit again. seemed the easiest way to spare me the pain.”

somehow you know he’s joking. you know he slept as well as you because of your body pressed against his. you know he feels the spark, and he’s waiting for the moment to light the flame.

perhaps it’s the crinkles around his eyes when he smiles, or the quick wink you nearly miss, that tell you you’re not crazy, that he feels it too. or maybe… maybe he’s the other half of the string that’s tied beneath your ribs. the string is no longer stretched and pulled taut, but relaxed, made light by fate and nature conspiring to bring you together.

or maybe you’re reading something that isn’t there again.

you look away first, but can’t keep the giddy smile from your face. he makes your heart feel weightless. and after being weighed down for so long, you feel as if you could do anything.

john gathers his clothes and changes downstairs while you get dressed for the day. by the time you make it to the living room, brian hands you a warm-ish glass of orange juice and a bowl of cereal while roger tends the fire and freddie sits on the floor, marmalade sniffing around the open boxes of christmas décor at his feet. 

unbidden, tears spring to your eyes, and you tighten your hold on the glass in your hand.

three christmases you’ve been alone. three christmases you’ve avoided the tried and true rituals of your childhood. three years you’ve missed this, the warmth of friendship and togetherness.

your heart gives a painful lurch at the thought of all you’ve missed out on, all you’ve neglected in order to save yourself from pain. only, perhaps you’ve driven yourself to much more pain, shutting yourself away on the mountain as you have.

john appears at your side, and his hand comes to rest on the curve of your neck, his finger tracing the edge of your jaw. “what is it?” he whispers, low enough so only you can hear.

clearing your throat, you grin up at him. “i’m just happy.”

his eyes scan the room before he dips his head and presses his lips to your temple. his grip on the back of your neck tightens as he lingers against your skin. your eyes flutter shut, and you lean closer to him, warmth spreading from the crown of your head to the soles of your feet. he releases you after a moment, nudging you forward with a hand to the small of your back.

you drop to the carpet beside freddie and take a bite of your cereal. “where did you find all this? i didn’t know i’d kept it.”

“i found it, actually,” roger says from his place in the kitchen.

“and you found the scrabble board too… if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you were snooping around my house.”

“so what if i am?” roger shrugs. “i’m bored as hell without the tellie. there’s loads of stuff downstairs just waiting for me to snoop through.” he finishing tacking something to the archway of the kitchen before stepping into the living room, hands in his pockets.

“roger, stop your griping and sit down.” brian nods to the open armchair. “we haven’t had this much time off in ages. enjoy it while you can.”

“really, why do you keep all this marvelous stuff downstairs?” freddie asks. he sifts his hands through the box on his lap, filled with tinsel and ribbons your mother collected over the years. “you have a tree, but that’s it. your entire cabin could be dripping with christmas cheer if you wanted.”

“it’s just me,” you say. as if understanding, marmalade gives a petulant meow. you smile and scratch behind her ears. “and marmy, i guess. there’s no reason to go above and beyond if it’s just me.”

brian’s brow furrows in concern. “your parents? siblings?”

“my parents died about five years ago, my grandfather shortly after. there’s no siblings. just me.” rising from your place on the floor, you gather your empty breakfast bowl and the leftover plate sitting adjacent.

it’s quiet as you deposit the dishes in the sink. the story of your parent’s tragic accident and grandfather’s health decline has never been a mood booster; this you well know. still, you feel obligated to tell your guests. no—not obligated. willing. you love your parents and your grandfather, but you’ve neglected their memory too long.

you turn from the sink. “why don’t we put the decorations up? in their memory.”

freddie’s smile is soft, affectionate. he nods resolutely. “a lovely idea.”

brian puts a christmas record on the turntable, and the house seems to sigh in relief as life, happiness, and festive cheer fills the rooms after so long. roger tosses handfuls of tinsel upon the sparsely decorated tree, his hips swaying to the beat of the music, and freddie directs brian in hanging garland over the mantelpiece and around the staircase banister. you sit beside john on the floor, stringing popcorn along a piece of string. your hands are salty and warm from the popcorn, and his shoulder brushes yours as you work.

“you know,” he says. “my dad died when i was young.”

you pause, an unpopped kernel between your fingers. “really? sorry—i don’t mean to sound so surprised. i just—you didn’t say anything, so…”

he brushes your hurried apology away with a shake of his head. “i was eleven. changed me forever. i don’t really remember much of my childhood, you know, ‘cause of that.”

“oh, john.” though your fingers are slick with salt and butter and grease, you cover his hand with yours. he looks up from the half-filled bowl, and leans closer, his shoulder pushing against yours. “i’m sorry. that—no child should have to lose their parent at a young age.”

“i don’t tell you to feel sorry for me.” he removes his hand from beneath yours and continues to string the popcorn, but there’s no malice or hostility in his words—just truth. “i’m just saying it because i know how it feels to lose a parent early. it’s… devastating.”

you nod, twisting your mouth to side and looking away from his searching gaze. “yes, it is.” drawing in a deep breath, you face him again. “i think i dwell too much on the sadness, though. there’s happiness in their memory, and i forget that. but you lot helped me remember. you helped me remember.”

john ducks his head on a shy grin, his cheeks pink with blush.

heart tripping in your chest, you stand and return to the kitchen to refill the popcorn bowl while he drapes the first completed string around the tree. as the popcorn pops, you tuck your face near your shoulder, smiling to yourself. three days ago, you’d gone to bed thinking you knew what christmas would look like this year: desolate and lonely, with only your cat by your side and work to fill your days. how could you have guessed? how could you have known what nature would bring your way?

when you turn, the freshly filled bowl cradled in the crook of your arm, you stop short. roger, a sideway grin on his face, stands in the doorway of the kitchen. he jerks his chin upwards, and you follow his eyeline to the sprig of faux mistletoe tacked to the ceiling.

you roll your eyes. “so, that’s what you were doing. you really are a trouble-maker, roger.”

“come on, it’s tradition, love. just one kiss?” he opens his arms slightly, beckoning with a wave of his fingers.

you huff with mock indignance, but your cheeks warm at the thought of roger taylor wanting to kiss you of all people. the little you know of queen and their stardom is knowledge enough to tell you that roger has kissed far worthier people. they all have, probably. you—you’re just a country bumpkin, hardly interesting or captivating enough for his—or any of their—attentions.

that, at least, is what you would have told yourself three days ago. today, the thoughts tumble through your head, but you push them aside with a newfound sense of confidence. it doesn’t mean anything, anyway. it’s just a mistletoe kiss. and you think you’d regret it forever if you turned him down.

before you can stop yourself, you step forward, and roger rightly takes the movement as an agreement. he kisses you soundly, one hand feather-light in the center of your back. you don’t let the connection linger too long for fear you will lose yourself to the moment. roger is kind and charming, but he’s not… well, he’s not john, and the thought of john and whatever it is he means to you makes you pull away after a few seconds.

from their place in the living room, freddie and brian cheer, clapping in response to the good-natured fun. you duck your head, but smile all the same and drop to your spot beside john. you hand him the bowl of popcorn, but he doesn’t start stringing the new line. he just looks at you, his eyes roaming your face, barely so much as a frown pulling his brow tight or downward tilt of his mouth wringing his lips in a scowl. he just… stares, openly, without pretense, and you suddenly wish you’d turned roger down. though the feeling of roger’s lips still lingers on yours and the kiss wasn’t unpleasant in the slightest, john’s arms around your waist while you sleep leaves much more of an imprint on your skin. his soft breath when he sleeps, the perfect rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear—it all is so much better than a silly mistletoe kiss with roger.

a muscle ticks in john’s jaw, the only evidence of possible frustration. you look away and continue stringing popcorn along the line.

“i wanted to be the one to kiss you.”

at the sound of john’s mumbled words, you trip over a mislaid shoe in the middle of your darkened room. he’d gone to bed earlier than everyone else, leaving you and the others to play another round of scrabble until well after the sun disappeared. you’d considered following him when he made his exit and explaining your kiss with roger, but you’d decided it against it.

neither roger nor john could stake any claim over you or your actions, and you’d wanted to kiss roger. not to piss john off, not to push him away, but purely because you’d wanted to. maybe you wouldn’t do it again, not after seeing the crestfallen look on john’s face. but you’d done it, and there was no shame in it.

you grip the edge of the bed frame, bent at the waist, frozen in the way you’d tripped. “what?” the word is a sharp exhale in the already tense room.

“you heard me: i wanted to be the one to kiss you.”

you aren’t sure what to say, so the first thing that comes to mind slips from your mouth. “well… you didn’t.”

john huffs and hops off his spot atop your bed. the snow covering your skylight has started to melt in the last day or so, allowing slim rays of moonlight to pierce the darkness of your room. the moonlight coupled with your nightlight illuminates only the sharpest features on john’s face, and while any other evening you might think the line of his jaw or definition of his nose might be alluring, tonight, coupled with the scowl on his brow, you wish you could see him clearly. he stands in the center of the room, hands on his hips, and you straighten, run your fingers through your rumpled hair.

“you could have,” you whisper. “but you didn’t.”

“beneath the mistletoe?” he scoffs like the mere implication is an offense. “no. that’s not what i meant.”

“what did you mean, then? you can’t just say you wanted to be the one to kiss me with no explanation. i’m not some plaything, john. you boys might be used to that, being famous or whatever, but—”

“no.” his voice is stern, commanding, resolute. you shut your mouth with a snap. “you drive me crazy, you know that?” he steps forward; you step back. “you think you’re so insignificant, that you’re not good enough for anybody.”

your frown and retreat another step when he advances. “i don’t know what you’re—”

he cuts you off as though your protest went in one ear and out the other. “you’re shy, sure, but you’re brave. i mean, dammit you live all the way up here by yourself, and you nearly fought us off with a fuckin’ frying pan.”

he sighs. but then his arm extends, his fingers hovering over your cheek. when you don’t flinch, don’t so much as move a muscle, he covers your cheek with his palm, his fingertips tracing the edges of your hair. “you’re a lot like me. we have a lot in common.”

your heart lurches—not out of pain or regret, but anticipation. a lump of excitement clogs your throat, and it’s hard to swallow, hard to think, hard to breathe, with john so near and his words so intoxicating.

“john…” your eyelids flutter shut, your head tilting into the warmth of his palm. “i—”

“i wanted to kiss you because i like you, not because you’re the only bird here, but because i like you and i think we have a lot—”

you surge forward on a burst of assertiveness. grabbing the edges of john’s night shirt, you drag him forward and slot your mouth over his. his lips are smooth, and once he registers what you’ve done, he responds with equal parts ferocity and tenderness. one hand bunches the fabric of your shirt at your waist, the other grips the back of your neck, holding you against him like you might be blown away by the wind at any moment.

after a moment, he pulls away, rolling his forehead over yours. “tell me to stop and i will.”

you kiss him again, chaste and fast enough to draw back and murmur, “don’t stop,” before losing your nerve.

john circles his arms around your back, then, resuming his careful but hungry attack on your mouth, your cheeks, your neck. you wind your arms around his shoulders, drawing him tight, and you don’t make it to the bed before collapsing to the floor in a heap of passion.

day four.

the power comes back on the next day, and by late evening, jimmy schmits from the gondola service calls to tell you everything will be back up and running by morning. your guests are pleased. they’re eager to get back to the comforts they’re accustomed to, and you don’t blame them. four days in an unheated cabin with rapidly spoiling food in the fridge is not typical rockstar accoutrement. still, they tell you they’ve thoroughly enjoyed their break from reality, and you respond in kind. it was as much as break for you as it was for them.

on that last evening, the lights are kept off for the final time. the fire in the hearth permeates the room with its light, though you don’t need its warmth as much now that the heater is back on. the christmas tree sparkles in the corner, and a few candles flicker in the kitchen and hallway. brian sits in the armchair, your father’s old acoustic on his lap. roger, of course, had found it buried in a spare closet, and he suggests brian play to close out the night.

you lean your back against john’s chest where he sits on the couch. his arm is draped around your body, his fingers running nonsensical patterns over your waist. the back of your head rests against his shoulder, and you feel like you could walk on water you’re so light. all the stress, the aches and pains you’ve carried for so long, have melted like the snow. john is to thank for that, as are the others, but mostly him. he’d pegged you quite right with his speech the night before: shy and unsure of yourself and entirely unconvinced of your own worth. but you’re on the mend, you think.

insignificant? you? no, not anymore. not when he looks at you and holds you close.

brian cringes when he gives an experimental strum of the guitar and something akin to a high-pitched whine hits the air. “oh wow. this hasn’t been played in a while.” he looks up, pulling his mouth to the side in a wry grin. “sorry,” he says when he meets your eyes. “i just have to tune it some.”

“go ahead,” you say. “do what you have to.”

brian adjusts the tuners at the top of the guitar before plucking and pulling the strings in time to a gentle rhythm. when he opens his mouth, he begins to sing. “have yourself a merry little christmas. let your heart be light.”

freddie joins him, scooting forward on the other side of the couch, marmalade snug in his lap. “from now on our troubles will be out of sight.”

when roger jumps in for the bridge, the trio’s voices mingle together in the air like pieces of a puzzle. each part is distinctive and unique, but no less important to creating the larger picture. you snuggle closer to john and feel the vibrations of his chest against your back as he hums, his finger tapping along your shoulder.

“once again, as in olden days, happy golden days of yore. faithful friends who are dear to us will be near to us once more.”

tears cloud your vision, and you tighten your grip on the arm draped over your stomach.

tomorrow your guests will return to their normal lives, lives of fantasy and extravagance. you will return to your hum-drum existence, and the holiday will come and go with little fanfare. but if this is the only gift you will receive this christmas—this time with the hodge-podge musicians that make up queen, this time with john—you will take it with no expectation for anything more.

you’d forgotten what it was like to live with joy and freedom, some semblance of your life prior to the accident. john, freddie, roger, brian—they’d helped you remember, and for that you are forever indebted to them.

clearing your throat, you twist slightly in john’s arms, enough to tilt your head back and let your eyes roam his face. he looks down at you, lips caught in a serene smile. you brush your fingers along the line of his jaw.

“merry christmas, john,” you whisper.

he hums in approval, grinning, before lowering his mouth to kiss you softly. “merry christmas, darling.”

six months later.

it’s hot out, the summer sun roasting you through the thick glass of the gondola. you could drive your car down the mountain, but you prefer the gondola. the gentle sway of the hanging car, the way the buildings in montreux slowly grow taller as you inch closer to the city—it’s all a part of the journey, and you enjoy it, find a comforting rhythm in the predictability.

today, you have an empty basket on your lap, your ankles tucked beneath the bench, as you make your way to the farmer’s market that pops up once a month. it’s a simple little thing, and you often only leave with a few ripe fruits and handful of fresh-cut flowers, but ever since your christmas with queen, you’ve been venturing out more. not enough to truly consider yourself a social butterfly, but you enjoy the odd afternoon at the farmer’s market or dinner in one of the pubs where you listen to the local bands play. you’ve made a friend—your first friend in ages—and heather only further helps to draw you out of your reclusive nature.

then, of course, there’s john. he helps too, always does.

when he’d left in december, he made no promises, and you didn’t expect him to. after all, you’ve only really been with him in person for four days; that’s hardly enough time to build a lasting sort of connection.

still, he calls when he can, and you catch up, but there’s no real agreement between you both. yet he continues you to encourage you to get out more, going so far as to ship you a bicycle you can ride the mountain trails on. he promises to come ride with you one day, but you won’t hold him to it. it’s the thought that counts.

for the first time in years, you’re happy, sincerely happy. you once thought that living by yourself, away from the world so you couldn’t be hurt, was enough to be content, and for a time, you were content. but then you’d been forced to remember, to remember how much you need others, and now that you can accept that, loneliness no longer pervades your home or your person. you walk with purpose; your smile comes naturally; your shoulders sway with ease.

it’s still a quiet life, but a much happier one.

you disembark the gondola with your eyes scanning the small list of items it would be worthwhile to buy—a new vase, a bouquet of flowers for the dinner party you’re hosting for heather and her siblings in two days, a necklace to replace the one marmalade broke—and you barely noticed when you bump shoulders with someone boarding the gondola car. you startle, though, when a hand wraps around your wrist and someone says your name.

you turn, lift your eyes, and gasp, your heart leaping to your throat. “john deacon!” it’s practically a squeal, and john shushes you with a fast hand over your mouth.

he glances around to see if anyone heard you or cares, and it seems the world is too busy with their own affairs to study john deacon and the girl he has pinned against his chest, his arm around her back and hand over her mouth. his eyes sparkle when he returns his gaze to you. “hush! don’t blow my cover!”

you swat his hand away, but don’t move out of his grasp. “what are you doing here?!”

he nods his head to the gondola car, now filled, the doors shut and prepared for departure. “i could ask you the same thing.”

you flush unwillingly and shrug your shoulders. “i actually leave the house now.”

“really?!” john releases his tight hold on your back, giving you breathing space, but doesn’t move his feet. when he speaks, his breath—recently freshened with a mint—fans your face. “i was actually on my way up to surprise you, but it looks like you’ve beaten me to the surprise.”

your heart, still lodged in your throat, skips a beat. “you were coming to see me?”

“’course i was.”

“i didn’t know you were in montreux.”

he nods. “we’re recording. should be here a month or two. just got here yesterday.”

you grin. your cheeks pinch in a slight ache, such unrestrained joy still uncustomary to your muscles. “and you were coming to see me?”

while you grin and reach forward to toy with the edge of john’s shirt, he frowns. “’course i was,” he repeats. “you say that like you’re surprised.”

“well, it was your intention to surprise me, right?”

“of course i would come see you if i was in town.” john nudges your shoulder with his hand then covers your bicep with his palm, squeezing lightly. “you’re my girl.”

you tilt your head to the side. “your girl?”

he nods, steps closer, and holds your other arm. “yeah,” he says, his voice gone deeper, gravely. “my girl.” this thumb brushes along the exposed skin of your shoulder, tanned by the sun. “i told you in december: i like you. the last six months have been… hectic, but i was always going to come back.”

tucking your lower lip between your teeth, you narrow your eyes as you wind your arms around his neck. the hair at the nape of his neck is soft as you play with it. “i would say really and not believe you. but i seem to remember someone telling me that i’m a lot more significant than i give myself credit for.”

john laughs, and the sound pierces your heart like cupid’s bow. “what genius said that?”

you shrug your shoulders, rolling your eyes. “i dunno, but i took it to heart.”

“did you? good. then maybe you’ll be more inclined to say yes when i ask you to come on tour with me, with all of us.”

“oh, you were going to ask that?”

“part of my surprise.”

leaning forward, you feather your lips over john’s. “ask me, then,” you whisper, grinning even further when you feel a shiver run down his back.

“come with us. come with me. let me take you around the world.”

the you of six months ago flares in your chest, telling you to say no, to stay home where it is safe. the you of six months ago tells you that john is just being nice, that he doesn’t see you as anything serious.

but the you of today…

the you of today just smiles and kisses john soundly. you move your mouth over his like he is your dance partner, like you were made for one another, and maybe you were. he tastes sweet, feels even sweeter against your body, and you wonder if this is what your parents felt like when they first fell in love. as your mother tells it, she thought your father had hung the stars in the sky, and when you pull back to look at john, the same thought comes to mind.

“so is that a yes?”

you nod. “i’d go anywhere with you, john deacon.” another thought pops to the forefront of your mind, and you fist your hand in john’s shirt with a frown. “but wait: who will watch marmalade?”

[witchyxmalfoy]

TWO SNAKES AND A BADGER

Pt. 2

Pairing: Draco x reader x Cedric Diggory

Warnings:

part one: none

Part two: smut (female receiving)

Part three: ??

Based on 4th year events (but making characters age appropriate for this theme lol) slight love triangle between reader, Draco and Cedric. The ball doesn’t go quite as planned, Draco sees it as the perfect opportunity to teach reader a lesson.

•••

You just had freshened yourself up for dinner walking down the steps to the common room. Pansy, your best friend lunged for you.

“Y/N! I’ve got loads to tell you!” She squealed pulling you down in the arm chair across from her.

“Guess who asked me to the ball.” She said wiggling her eyebrows. You were already late for dinner and you honestly didn’t care terribly much as the dark haired girl flapped her arms like a bird, trying to contain herself.

“Uh.. dunno. Blaise maybe?” You questioned

“No course not! Draco! Draco just asked me to the ball!” She squealed grabbing your shoulders and pulling you into a hug. Your arms laid flat to your sides, eyes wide in confusion. You couldn’t tell if she was excited or just trying to rub it in.

Your heels clicked down the hall on your way to dinner, the castle was candle lit and you could see a light snow fall through the vast windows.

“The slimy git. Really thinks he’s all that. Bastard.” You muttered to yourself.

Running footsteps came from behind and finally caught up with your brisk walk. The boy grabbed your arm to pull to back.

“Going to the ball with fucking Diggory are we? You must be joking Y/N!” The blonde shouted, venom dripping from his teeth.

You kept walking, not even planning to mention him asking your best friend to the ball.

You felt him yank you back again by you wrist and push you against the nearest wall. One arm trapping your head the other dipped down to grab your chin. You were forced to look at his darkening eyes now as he chuckled darkly.

“You knew. Didn’t you darling? You were supposed to go with me. But now.. well I had to make other arrangements.” He feigned a pout.

You ripped out of his grip on your chin.

“Well if Cedric cancels, you’ll be the first to know.” You said in a sarcastic tone as you adjusted your tie and finished your walk to dinner.

You had not seen nor spoken to Draco at all the rest of the week. He now had Pansy hanging from his arm like an ornament. It truly did make you sick hearing her overly loud giggles from the shared tables of the slytherin house. You would always catch him staring at you from across the potions classroom, or purposely go out of his way to the library when he knew you would be there studying. When he did see you though, he would make the effort to push Pansy into the bookcase nearest to you and snog her. He did look miserable to put it lightly, which made it not so bad.

Saturday finally came around, you stood in your shared dorm with Pansy as you listened to her fuss about her dress.

“This dress, it’s ghastly on me. You try it on Y/N” she sighed handing the beautiful dress, it was sheer on the top, only using gem stones to cover the chest area, and a flowing black satin skirt was attached.

The dress fit like a glove, cascading around your hips and down your legs. The large slit from your upper thigh on the dress, combined with a nip slip waiting to happen, left little to the imagination.

Pansy gasped when she saw you and threw her hands over her mouth

“Y/N! It’s so lovely on you, Cedric will faint!” She said, fixing your hair into a low, sleek bun.

The two of you walked down the grand steps towards the great hall, all eyes were on the both of you as you parted ways to your dates.

“You look, so beautiful Y/N” Cedric said sweetly taking your arm.

You couldn’t help but feel another pair of eyes burning through the back of your head. You turned to see the blonde looking dapper in white and black dress robes. He gave you a quick smirk as he kissed pansy’s hand. You rolled your eyes and followed your date into the beautifully decorated hall. The sky was bewitched to be snowing, and everything was decorated with winter flowers.

You had danced the first dance with Cedric and the other champions then made your way to the punch bowl. You heard Cho Chang and couple other Ravenclaw girls talking just to the left of you- glossing really.

“Ah poor ceddy, I can’t believe you turned him down to go with Harry, Cho. Look how handsome he looks on the dance floor.” The red headed Ravenclaw girl said.

“Well, he does look quite nice doesn’t he.” Cho started,

“But, just last night he begged me to change my mind to go with him. That poor Y/N girl had no idea. He told me she was last resort... so i agreed to meet him in his dorm tonight.” She continued.

The two other girls giggled and hushed Cho.

“Slytherin girls, am I right? Will go with anyone desperate enough to take them.” The red head said again.

You had listened enough, throwing your cup into the punch bowl and rushing out of the hall. You quickly made a right turn into the washroom.

Draco had seen the conversation play out and decided to follow you to the washroom.

You grabbed the sink breathing hard, trying not to spill tears on your makeup.

“If it isn’t the Slytherin princess herself. What brings you here Y/N.” Dracos voice came from behind

“I’m not in the mood Malfoy. Piss off” you snapped.

“Oo not very friendly. Heard what happened with your little date.” He said coming closer to you

“Well I don’t see your date anywhere either Malfoy. Why’d you follow me anyway?” You sniffled trying to mask that you were about to cry.

“To make sure you learned your lesson.” He whispered darkly, now pressed up to your backside. You looked up at him with a puzzled look through the mirror in front on you.

“W-what do you mean Draco..” you stammered

“I think we both know what I mean darling..” he gently folded your dress up and over your backside so you were now exposed to him, only a small triangle of black lace covering you. His deep voice went straight to your heat, feeling your thighs already becoming damp.

He rubbed your ass with the palm of his hand and then- whack. It came down upon you

“That’s for going with Diggory in the first place.”

Another smack.

“That’s for this pathetic excuse for a dress. No one else should be able to see that but me.”

Another.

“And that is so you know who you belong to.” He nibbled on your ear as you whimpered at the now glowing red handprints. He raised his hand one more time above your ass,

“Who do you belong to.” He seethed

“Draco you! Please.. I need you.” you whimpered desperately trying to rub your legs together for friction. He tsked and kicked your legs apart.

“Be a good girl, and be quiet for me. Okay darling?” He stoked your cheek bringing your face up to look at him through the mirror. You nodded still whimpering a bit as he shoved two fingers in your mouth. You swirled your tongue around them, sucking his digits. They left your mouth with a ‘pop’. He slid your tiny lace panties to the side and teased his spit covered fingers over your folds from behind. You bit your lip to hide a moan.

“Such a good girl.” He purred, slowly sliding his two fingers into you at once.

You gasped and let out a louder moan. Feeling another harsh slap to your ass you covered your mouth again.

“What did I say.. keep quiet princess.” He said now pumping his fingers at a rapid pace and spreading them apart inside your dripping walls. You scrunched your eyes shut head falling back onto his shoulder as you moaned quietly and softly in bliss. He curled his digits to hit the soft skin inside you that made your legs shake. He used his other arm to snake around your waist holding you up against him. Your knuckles turned white from the death grip you had on the sink.

He pulled his long dripping fingers out of you painfully slow. The loss of his fingers was dreadful, until you felt his hot breath fanning over your heat. He was bent down behind you, gripping the back of your thighs to steady you, as he kitten licked your folds before plunging his tongue into you. You tightened around nothing, but judging by the state of your trembling body and your wetness dripping from his chin, he knew you were close. You brought a hand to your mouth, biting it so hard, almost drawing blood as you tried to contain your moans.

“D-Draco.. I’m close..” you spoke shakily.

He hummed in amusement against your soaking pussy which sent vibrations through your core, and gave your ass another smack. This sent you over the edge, you were now a moaning mess. Not caring who heard as you mumbled his name over and over. He lapped up the juices that weren’t released on his tongue and licked up your thighs before muttering praises into your ear.

“I’m not done with you princess, let’s take this elsewhere.” He smirked helping your trembling body stand straight.

[jalapeno-princess]

Make it to Christmas

Mark Tuan X Reader

Word Count: 4.9K

Genre: Angst with a happy ending

Summary: Winter was your favorite season and Christmas had to be one of your favorite holidays. However, as the weather got colder, so did your relationship with your boyfriend Mark. When he brings up how your relationship is no longer what it used to be and that he feels that the two of you should take a break, that’s when you realize how much you have been neglecting him and that you are the reason that your relationship is failing.

A/N: Hey guys! So I wrote this last December but I didn’t finish it until earlier this year. This has been in my notes for the longest time and every now and then I look at my many stories that I’ve written and never finished (There are at least seven Christmas imagines that I never took the time or had the motivation to get around to finishing any of the stories). This story is based on the song “Make it to Christmas by Alessia Cara and I would definitely recommend for you all to check it out it is soooooo good and one of my favorite Christmas songs (Even if it is so sad). I’m like 35% done with the last chapter of my “Crazy little thing called love” series and I just want to thank you guys for being so patient (For some reason I’ve been having writer’s block with the last chapter I don’t know why but hopefully I’ll be getting around towards finishing it within the next two weeks). With that being said, happy reading! (BTW, this story might not be as good as my other ones because this one is older and I didn’t feel like editing it all that much but hoenestly who gives a shit not me hahahahaha)

We were warm and wonderful once upon a time But now we're frozen, hanging by a thread Can we wait a minute? Or can we just try to try? 'Cause my favorite day is coming up ahead

Darling, I know that our love is going cold It's just something 'bout the snow This time of year that makes us lose our way Just say we'll make up And hold on a little longer Don't have me spending it alone This time of year is precious Please, can we make it to Christmas? Can we make it to Christmas?

No matter how much you loved the holiday season, you couldn’t say you were all too excited for it this year. Your four year relationship with your boyfriend Mark has been on the rocks lately and neither of you understood where everything went wrong. 

Back in the beginning of the year, you had accepted a job that you have been dreaming about ever since you were a little girl. However, this job took up most of your time, leaving you no time to spend with Mark. This left your poor boyfriend feeling neglected and the two of you would always argue about it to the point where you would leave your shared apartment before things could take a turn for the worst. Then came the cheating allegations. 

At first, Mark was very excited for you to finally get your dream job. He knew how hard you worked in order to do so and how many times you cried during college because of how hard it was. But he couldn’t brush off the green monster on his shoulder telling him that you were having an affair behind his back. He understood how certain jobs would take up the entirety of someone’s day, but it seemed as if you never went home. 

By the time you arrived back to your apartment, he was fast asleep and when he woke up in the morning, you were already gone. This led him to thinking there was someone else. Your relationship no longer felt like a relationship anymore and you could feel it slowly falling apart. You didn’t know what to do in order to save it. As much as you knew you wanted to spend the rest of your life with Mark, you didn’t know if your relationship would last until Christmas. 

Mark thought long and hard about what he should do. The thought of losing you killed him. He loved you with every fiber of his being and you were the sole reason for his existence. However, he felt as if you no longer felt the same and he didn’t want to force you in to staying in your relationship if you no longer wanted to. One night after you came home late again, you were shocked to see your boyfriend sitting on the couch. Normally he was knocked out around this time, but he was just sitting there in the peace and quiet; staring blankly at the tv screen. 

You took a look around the living room and only noticed in that moment how bare it was. Every year since moving in together, you and Mark would decorate it with lights, fake snow and even a train set. This year, you haven’t even set up the tree and the thought hurt your heart. People say change was good, but you couldn’t help but feel that this change was a sign of the end of your relationship. 

“Hey.” He looked up at you and released a long sigh. 

“Hi.” You put down your bags as you slowly made your way to your room. It didn’t take you long to notice him trailing behind you. A part of you hated how awkward things got between the two of you in the last few months, but if Mark seemed unbothered by the distance, you didn’t mind either. However, you were upset that such a thing was happening during your favorite season. 

You didn’t feel like getting in to the holiday spirit nor did you want anything to do with Christmas--there was no point when everything in your life seemed to be falling apart. You noticed your boyfriend took a seat on the bed and you took this time to change and settle down. But before you could walk in the bathroom, he asked for you to sit down. You took a seat next to him and the two of you sat in silence for what felt like hours. 

In the four years of your relationship, there were many times the two of you spent in silence, but it was always a calm and serene type of quiet. However, this was an awkward and tense silence and you were hoping he would speak up soon because you didn’t know what to say. 

“What are we doing y/n?” 

You looked up at your boyfriend in curiosity and only then did you notice how tired he looked. His dark circles were very prominent, his cheekbones were more defined and his eyes no longer held the sparkle in them that they used to have when the two of you first began dating. You couldn’t help but feel that it was your relationship that was causing this and you never hated yourself more than you did in that moment after coming to the realization. 

“What do you mean?” 

He gave you a knowing look and stared at you for a while. It was as if he was looking at a stranger. His heart rate didn’t increase at the sight of you like it used to months ago. It wasn’t because he no longer loved you; Mark knew he was still so in love with you--but sometimes love just wasn’t enough. 

“Y/n, I know you feel it too. We’re not what we used to be. We don’t act like a couple anymore. Hell, I can’t even remember the last time we had a decent conversation. We hardly see each other nowadays, I get one kiss every other day if I’m lucky and even when we sleep together, you’re so far away. I feel as if I’m a burden to you. Ever since you got your job, I feel as if you never make time for me—for us and it sucks. I miss you so much, but it doesn’t seem to bother you. I’ve tried so hard to make it work between us. I can feel you slipping away and I wanted to work on us. I want us to last so badly. But I can’t keep being the only one putting effort in to our relationship y/n. I can’t keep trying to set fire to an already burnt out flame. I’m tired. There’s so much going on in my life right now and I want nothing more to run to you with my problems like I used to. I always feel so safe with you, but now I feel like I can’t talk to you because we’re the problem. Our relationship is killing me y/n. That’s why I think we need to take a break.” 

You didn’t even realize you were crying until he brought his fingers up to wipe away your tears. Here he was trying to console you all the while breaking your heart. However, you couldn’t blame him for doing so. He was right. You made it seem like your relationship was a chore and you hated that it took Mark to tell you how he felt in order for you to realize something was wrong. 

“Mark--baby I’m so sorry--please--please don’t leave. I’ll fix this. I promise I’ll change--“ He pulled you on top of his lap and placed a soft kiss on your forehead. 

“I don’t want you changing anything about yourself. Okay? You’re perfect just the way you are. Couples grow apart and it’s normal. In order to grow together again, we need some time apart. We’ll be okay one day. We need to find ourselves first before finding each other again. I love you with my entire being y/n, but our love just isn’t enough anymore. I sat and thought about this for a while. Never in a million years did I ever think I would ever break up with you. I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with you and I still plan on doing so. But like I said, maybe we need time apart to realize how much we really need each other. Until then, please take care of yourself. Make sure to eat all your meals and get your rest. I’m sorry things aren’t working out between us but I hope you know that I love you.” 

You held him as tightly as you possibly could, not wanting to let him go because you knew once he left, nothing would ever be the same. Mark was in your life for many years even before the two of you started dating. You hardly ever lived without him. Sure you had your fair share of arguments and disagreements, but break ups weren’t an option. However, you couldn’t help but feel like it was really bad this time. If he wanted a break up, you knew this meant he no longer wanted a relationship with you. 

The thought of losing him upset you, but you didn’t want to continue hurting him. His words cut like a knife. You didn’t mean to put him through all of that and you tried your best to understand why he was giving up on your relationship so easily. But then you thought about what he said earlier. He was putting so much effort in to your relationship but you failed to do so. He slowly got up and you just laid there while watching him get his things. 

There were so many words that were on the tip of your tongue, but you didn’t feel like you had the right to say them. You didn’t feel like you should hold him back from wanting to leave. You treated him like shit, you didn’t deserve him. But you couldn’t picture life without him. Seeing him grab his bags made you want to run up to him and take them out of his hands--however, hearing him ask for a break drained all the energy out of you and you wanted nothing more than to go to bed. There was nothing you could do, his mind was made up--he was leaving you and there was nothing you could do about it. Once he was done, he gave you a sad smile and placed one more kiss on your forehead.

“Please don’t go. I’m nothing without you.” 

That’s when you saw a tear fall from his handsome face. You looked so small, so fragile and he knew the “break” would take a toll on you, but not as much as it would on him. “Y/n--please--I already hate the thought of no longer being yours. But I lost myself loving you. I need to find myself again in order to be happy. Take care of yourself okay?” 

With one last kiss, he was out the door. You don’t remember how long you cried for, but your pillow was soaked with tears. It still had yet to really hit you that the love of your life was gone. He never allowed you to explain yourself and you were well aware that it was because his heart was tired of fighting for a relationship you were no longer putting effort in to anymore.

After what felt like hours, you finally fell asleep. It’s been over two weeks since Mark left and for the first week, you didn’t do anything. You called out sick from work, giving all sorts of lame excuses. At this point you didn’t even care if you got fired. There were many jobs out there, but there was only one Mark. 

As much as you wanted to give him his space, you couldn’t help but ask his friends about how he was doing. He was the only thing on your mind. The second week was even worse. You turned to alcohol to try your best to forget about his absence, but it only made things more difficult for you. Your dreams were filled with some of your favorite memories you shared with Mark. He left a lot of his things at your apartment and they were taunting you--reminding you that he was no longer there and that it was all your fault. 

You found yourself putting on his clothes and sleeping on his side of the bed. The apartment was so cold and empty without him there. Some days you would stay out as late as possible to prevent yourself from having to be all alone. No matter how much wine you would consume, nothing would take away the pain. When Mark left, he took your heart with him. You hated yourself and couldn’t stop blaming yourself for not treating him the way he deserved. He took such good care of you, why couldn’t you do the same for him? Why did you let work get in the way of your only source of happiness? 

Your mom had invited you and Mark to her annual Christmas party and as soon as you received the invitation, you were quick to decline. Nobody but Mark’s friends knew that the two of you broke up. You didn’t want to be around friends and family while you were so heartbroken. Nor did you want to burden anyone with the upsetting news of your break up. Christmas was supposed to be such a happy time, but you couldn’t wait for it to be over with. 

You hated the idea of being asked about Mark and you did not want to receive pity from your family over something that was your fault. However, your mom never took no as an answer. On the night of the party, you tried your best to get ready no matter how tired and drained you were from the lack of sleep. You didn’t want anyone knowing something was wrong even if you were seconds away from a mental breakdown. 

Once you finished getting ready, you took in a deep breath and made your way to your parent’s house. This was the first time you drove by yourself since the break up. You didn’t have enough energy to do anything and you sure weren’t ready to be operating such a dangerous vehicle, but you had to suck it up and be a big girl so nobody could see through your facade. 

Lights occupied the entire front of the house and as much as you wanted to laugh at how obsessed your mom was with decorating, you were too busy wallowing in self pity to even care about anything else other than the pain you were going through. After you parked, you sat in your car for fifteen minutes until you built the courage to walk up to the door. 

“Y/n! You’re finally here! Why did I know you were going to be late? I told Mark to force you to get ready an hour earlier because I know how you can get. Where is he by the way? Is he still parking the car?” 

She peered outside while you snuck in to the house to prevent her from asking more questions. All your family came up to greet you and just like your mom, everyone seemed to want to know where Mark was. You couldn’t blame them. He came for every single party and gathering your mom would host over the course of your relationship and they all grew attached to him. Mark was the perfect guy. 

He was the type of guy you’d want to bring home to your family. You couldn’t believe you mistreated him to the point where he felt as if he had to leave. You were on the verge of tears every time someone brought him up and it seemed as if Mark was the talk of the party, even if he wasn’t there. While your mom was preparing the food, your dad called you over and asked you when Mark would be coming. 

“I know you probably want to sit next to your boyfriend during dinner, but I want to talk to him about the football game.” 

When you and Mark first started dating, he was quick to make his way in to both of your parent’s hearts. With your mom, all he had to do was charm her with compliments and help her around the house. With your dad, they bonded over sports and video games. Your parents were head over heels for him and sometimes you felt as though they preferred him over you, but you couldn’t blame them. Mark was an extremely likable person.

“He’s spending Christmas with his family this year.” Your dad frowned in disappointment and you wondered how he would feel if he knew the real reason behind Mark’s absence. 

“Shucks. Well, make sure he comes for New Years. I bought him a gift. Tell him we’re going to miss him tonight.” 

You gave him a fake smile and headed towards the living room to join your family in the festivities. Everything seemed to be going well—there was a Christmas movie going on in the background as your nieces and nephews ran around chasing each other. Maybe you did need a break from your thoughts and what a better way to stop your suffering than to spend time with some of your favorite people. 

Unfortunately, your grandma brought up how she was waiting patiently for you and Mark to finally get married and that’s when you decided it was all too much to handle. You ran in to the guest room and allowed the many tears to fall. It’s as if the universe wanted to constantly remind you of the mistakes you made in your relationship. 

After getting text messages from some of your cousins asking where you ran off to, you looked in the mirror and began to make yourself presentable enough—as if you weren’t just crying. Immediately after you walked outside, your niece ran in to you and told you she had a surprise for you. You didn’t think anything of it; kids always had little tricks up their sleeves and honestly you were going to take any kind of distraction you could get. 

“Last week in class, we talked about mistletoe and how you’re supposed to kiss the person you love underneath it.” She reached for your hand and dragged you over to the dining area. 

“Stand here.” You gave her a confused look but complied with the little girl whilst taking a glimpse at the mistletoe. Memories of the first Christmas you spent together with Mark came rushing back. 

The two of you had just started dating around that time and since he was your first boyfriend, he wanted to take things slow with you. Even after a month of dating, he had yet to kiss you and you were starting to think it was because he didn’t want to kiss you. You never wanted to voice how you felt over something like that, but you wanted nothing more than to finally feel his lips on yours. On that night of the Christmas party, he sneakily got you underneath the mistletoe and the two of you shared your first of many kisses together. 

Seeing the mistletoe made you want nothing more and to take it down and throw it away. Just a few seconds later, your eyes were being covered and before your mind could process what was happening, a pair of lips were on yours. It didn’t take you long to realize it was your favorite pair of lips and you quickly responded in to the kiss. His arms wrapped around your waist as yours found their place around his neck. You didn’t care that you were surrounded by your family. His warmth and his lips were the only things you cared about in that moment. 

“Hi.” You pulled away and started gently tracing your fingers along his handsome features. The two of you stood like that for a while, with him giggling at your ministrations. 

“You’re here. You’re real. I’m not dreaming right?” He chuckled while shaking his head in disagreement. He placed two soft kisses on both your eyelids while caressing your cheeks. 

“You’ve been crying. And I see you haven’t been eating your meals y/n. You promised me--” You were about to respond when your mom walked over to the two of you. 

“Mark! You’re here! Good, everyone’s been asking for you. How have you been dear? You’ve lost so much weight! Are you on that diet again?” 

He shook his head all the while shooting you a knowing look. You had to remind yourself to inform him that no one in your family knew of your break up. Your mom stole him for a few moments, giving you the excuse that she wanted to “show him off” to the rest of your family—but it was fine, you needed time to breathe. He was here, he kissed you and held you as if nothing was wrong. You weren’t complaining, but you wanted to know why he was here and why he was acting like the two of you weren’t on a break. 

“Ah Mark! I was upset when y/n said you weren’t coming tonight. Did you watch the game last week? The patriots are doing really well this season.” 

Your heart warmed at the sight of your two favorite men interacting like they normally did, but you couldn’t help but feel as if it was too good to be true. Your cousins brought you over to the couch and wouldn’t stop raving about how handsome and sweet your boyfriend was and how lucky you were to have him. As you looked over to Mark, heat rose to your cheeks when you caught him already staring back at you. 

“I can tell that man really loves you y/n. I see the way he looks at you. Even when he was talking to my mom, he wouldn’t stop bring you up in conversation. And look at how well he gets along with our family. You better not lose him. Men like that are hard to find.” 

When you decided that you had enough time being reminded of the fact that Mark was such a perfect human being that you obviously did not deserve, you snuck away back to the guest room hoping Mark would notice your absence and take the hint to come find you. While waiting for him, you decided to lie down and stare up at the ceiling; wanting to give yourself time to recuperate your thoughts and to think about what you should say to him once he were to come in to the room.

Ten minutes later, you heard a soft knock on the door and you told whoever it was to come in. Seeing him again after three weeks of being without him made you realize how much you missed him, how much you loved him, how much you needed him in your life and how you were nothing without him. He slowly made his way towards you and sat down on the bed. 

“What are you doing here?” He reached for your fingers and started playing with them, a habit you noticed would help with calming him down. 

“Your mom, she um—she texted me and told me to get you here earlier since we are always the last ones to arrive because you never know what to wear. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I wasn’t coming nor did I know if you told her about us. I was going to make up an excuse, I’m pretty sure you did too. My parents, they were shocked to see me tonight because they know I’m always with you on Christmas Eve. They kept asking about you, saying how much they miss you and how they can’t wait for us to start having kids so they can spoil them like they do with my nieces. So I ultimately decided to come here. I also wanted to talk to you, if that’s okay.” You hesitantly nodded and motioned for him to continue. 

“I’m sorry. I was stupid for letting you go. I don’t understand why I thought taking a break would make things better. I can’t believe I listened to that “distance makes the heart grow fonder” bullshit. I missed you so fucking much baby. These last few weeks have been a living hell without you. I found myself outside of our apartment on multiple occasions, wanting to come in and hold you for as long as possible. To ask for you back and to pretend that this whole break up never happened. But I didn’t have the guts to do so. Every time BamBam or Yugyeom would bring you up, I’d always have to leave the conversation because it hurt hearing your name and it hurt even more when they would tell me how the break up was ruining you. It was ruining me too. I can’t deny it though, our relationship was tearing me apart. I hated the person I was turning in to. I kept blaming myself for everything bad that was happening to us, I was lashing out on random strangers because of everything that was going on and I even made Youngjae cry by saying something I didn’t mean all because our relationship wasn’t what it used to be. I thought being away from you would help me mentally—I needed time to think. Time to breathe—but if anything, our breakup made things so much worse. I’ve been staying with Jinyoung for the last few weeks and everything reminded me of you. He made me blueberry pancakes, just the way you like them. He uses that same laundry detergent you use on our clothes and he even has that same vanilla candle I bought for you from bath and body and I was so close to throwing it away because of how much it reminded me of you.” He placed a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth when he noticed your dazed facial expression.

“I thought going on a break would help us focus on ourselves and live our lives the way we want to without worrying about each other. It only made me realize how much I’m madly in love with you and how I can’t do anything without you. You’re my soulmate y/n. My person. I was made for you and you were made for me. I knew we were going to get back together sooner or later. Or I at least hoped we would. But I can’t blame you if you no longer want to be with me. I should’ve waited and thought about this longer, but I think the breakup made me come to terms with the fact that I don’t want anyone else but you for the rest of my life. Like, I already know we’re going to get married one day, and like you said, couples fight. It’s only normal. I just didn’t think fighting the way we were was healthy and I saw how much it was hurting you. I hate seeing you unhappy y/n and I couldn’t help but feel as if it was my fault that you were so miserable, so I left. But I’m here tonight, not only to please your family, but to ask for you to come back to me. You don’t have to make the decision now, but just know that I love you, I miss you and I’d do anything to make you mine again.” 

You gently brought your hands up to his cheek and connected your lips to his. He immediately pulled you on his lap and laid down so that you were hovering over him. The two of you made out for a while until you pulled away to catch your breath.

“Do me a favor?” You looked at him in curiosity but hummed in agreement. 

“Tell me you love me. I’ve been dying to hear you say it again. I’ve been wanting to hear those words fall from your pretty lips for months now. Fuck baby, you don’t understand how much I’ve missed you. I couldn’t listen to jingle bells without crying, I’m actually such a loser. I couldn’t stop thinking about all of our Christmases together and I refused to spend one without you. We’ve celebrated five Christmases together so far and I plan on spending every single Christmas and all of the other holidays with you for the rest of my life. Matter a fact—“ Before you could actually process what was going on, Mark motioned for you to get off of him in order for him to stand up. When you saw him get down on one knee, you were a sobbing mess. 

“I’ve had this ring since the beginning of our relationship. I actually purchased it just a couple of months after we started dating. I knew you were the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Our breakup, it only made me realize how much I can’t live without you. I felt like I was slowly dying as the days went by. I really didn’t want to leave. When I walked out the door, it took every bone in my body not to walk back inside and pull you in my embrace. I thought our breakup was for the best, and I thought that with time we would be fine. But then I thought about it. I would rather argue with you, get drunk over you, cry over you and have you be mad at me than to be happy with anyone else. I don’t think—actually, I know I could never be happy with anyone else. It’s you. It’s always been you and it’s always going to be you for the rest of my life and however long time let’s us be together for. Forever I hope. I want to settle down with you, have a big family with you, buy us a nice big house with a pool and a yard. I want to grow old with you. I want to be yours forever baby. You don’t have to say yes right now. I know it’s a lot to take in. Just know you’d make me the happiest and luckiest man on earth if you do so. Just to let you know, you mean everything to me and I love you with my entire being. Will you marry me?” The tears were quickly falling down your eyes and Mark snickered at the sight. 

“How are you still so beautiful when you cry—Ow babe stop. That was a compliment.” 

You sank down to where he was and roughly smashed your lips against his. Words couldn’t describe how much you’ve missed this. Being in his arms felt comforting—safe. It felt like home. When he felt you smile against his lips, he bit on your bottom lip and pulled away to catch his breath. 

“Yes. Of course I’ll marry you. God Mark, I love you so, so much. Thank you for coming back to me. Merry Christmas my love.”

[lu-undy]

A Sniper/Medic Short

I took part in a Secret Santa and my giftee wanted a Sniper/Medic short with cuddles in front of a fire or exchanging gifts. I did both :) Here it is!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28489524

"Gosh, it's freezing." 

Sniper woke up in his van on that cold morning of late December. He rubbed his eyes and pressed a switch to turn on the heating in his campervan. Engineer had been kind enough to fix him a button next to his bed that connected with the electric radiator. So the Aussie stayed in bed for an extra half an hour to wait for the van to warm up to an acceptable level. He could afford the wait as that day was off for both teams. 

In fact, the mercenaries enjoyed two weeks off at the end of the year's holidays.

Sniper looked at the time and took a deep breath. 

"Right, should probably get up now." 

And he followed his morning routine. He put some clothes on with warm socks and a season coat. It was thick and lined with synthetic yet warm fur around the hood. He put on a scarf and gloves. When the Aussie finished slipping in his boots, he opened the van's back door and the ice cold air bit his very skin. 

Everything was covered in a thick layer of white snow and as he jumped down to the ground, he landed in a muffled thud and sunk to the middle of his legs in snow. He hissed and winced. The kangaroo wasn't much of a fan of the feeling of cold wetness on his legs in the morning, or at any other time of the day either.

He locked up his van's backdoor and walked back to the base's main building. He entered and shut the door before feeling the drastic change of temperature. 

"Crikey, it's hot in here…" 

Sniper pulled back his hood, removed his coat and unrolled the scarf around his face. He placed all his clothing items on the coathanger there and proceeded to the kitchen for breakfast, where he found most of his colleagues, as usual. 

"Mornin' Sniper." Engie waved. 

"G'day." 

The rest of the team present in the kitchen nodded to the Aussie who went straight to get a warm mug of coffee. As he reached the coffee pot, he stuck his frozen hands on it and let it sizzle his skin nicely. 

"Here, your coffee." 

The white mug marked '#1 Sniper' slid on the counter to him and when he raised his head, he saw a lab coat float away, back to the table. He smiled. 

He took the mug and resumed his usual seat around the table to partake in the usual morning debates. Well, partake was a big word, maybe just listen in and nod from time to time. He liked his colleagues' banter. It had taken some time for his head to stop hurting at it, but now he was fully used to it and he even appreciated it. He listened to it like the radio and watched it like TV. He would sometimes add his grain of salt to the conversation but he much preferred to listen and watch. 

"Hey, fancypants! Not wearin' a suit today? What is it, Christmas?" 

Spy entered wearing a knitted jumper that went up his neck, to the color of the team and a dark, matching pair of trousers.

"Very observant." He answered and went to the coffee pot to help himself. 

"Funny, eh, my Ma' knitted me the same kind of sweater!"

"Funny indeed." The Frenchman answered and the rest of the team sighed gently. 

"Any plans for today, guys?" The Bostonian asked.

"Today is a great day. You will all respect and celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ!" Soldier exclaimed. "And if I catch one of you numbnuts not partaking in the festivities, it will be extra physical training and scrubbing duties!" He raised an authoritative index finger. 

"Calm down, laddie, what about a snowball fight? The snow's nice and fresh." Demoman suggested. 

"Yes, Sir!" 

"Right! Can me and Pyro join you guys?" Scout asked. 

"Of course, lads! The more, the merrier!"

"Heavy, you wanna join us?" Scout turned to his impressively built colleague. 

"Nyet."

"Come on, Stalingrad! Let me give you a Second Cold War!"

"Aye, c'mon, Heavy, what are you gonna do inside, eh? It's Christmas and there's snow!"

Heavy rolled his eyes and smiled behind his crossed arms. 

"Fine." He yielded and the mercenaries rejoiced. 

"What about the support club?" Scout turned to Medic, Spy and Sniper. 

The Frenchman was reading a newspaper while Medic and Sniper looked briefly at each other. 

"Spy, d'you wanna-"

"Non."

"C'mon, Spy-"

"Non."

"But-?"

"Non." 

"Why?" 

The old French man sighed. 

"I am busy."

"What will you be doin'?"

"Nothing that concerns you."

"C'mon, what could be better than a snow fight? Join us!"

Spy sighed from his side of the newspaper. 

"A phone call with your mother would be incomparably better than a snowball fight."

The mercenaries tensed around the table and their eyes all shifted to Scout. 

"Yeah, well, you're not gonna get it anyway so c'mon!" 

They facepalmed and rolled their eyes. Scout was remarkably oblivious. 

Little by little, the mercenaries left the table. Sniper's eyes rose from his final bit of toast when the flapping of the white lab coat caught his attention. Medic was leaving the table. The Aussie finished his breakfast but stayed a bit longer in the kitchen. He helped for the dishes, as he owed it to Engie.

"Wanna help me prepare lunch, Sniper?" 

"Sure." 

"If you'd rather go with the others in the snow, that's fine by me, eh." 

"Nah, it's fine. I'll give you a hand."

At the other end of the building, Medic was filling some paperwork that he had been putting off for too long.

There was a knock at the door. 

"Ja?" 

"Uh, it's me, Doc'."

There was the noise of a chair moving and footsteps before the door opened. 

"Hey there."

"Hallo, Sniper."

"Mind if I join?" 

"Please." 

Medic shut the door after his guest. 

"What brings you here?" 

"Van's freezing." 

"Ah, so you're just here for the radiator?"

Sniper chuckled. 

"Yeah, nah…"

"I was about to stop and take a break. Shall we go to my living room? I will make some coffee."

"Sure." 

Both mercenaries went through a corridor and Medic opened the door in the end. Medic, like Spy, had his own suite, which consisted of a living-room, a kitchen, bathroom and his bedroom. They were all a few doors away from his workplace.

"After you."

"Thanks, mate." 

"Make yourself at home, I will set the coffee."

"Right." 

Sniper entered and removed his old boots right at the door. The floor was carpeted and he didn't want to give his friend some extra work cleaning it. He slipped his coat off and hung it on the coat-hanger before proceeding to the sofa. He sat down and made himself comfortable as he heard his German friend busy in the kitchen. 

"Hm." 

Sniper soon got off the couch and went to the kitchen door. He gave it a few short knocks. 

"Need some help with anythin'?" 

Medic turned to him, who was peeking from the door. Sniper's eyes fell on the tray that the medical expert was preparing. 

"No, I should be fine, danke, Sniper."

"You sure?"

"Ja, go get yourself warmed up in front of the fire. I will be just an extra minute." 

"Alright, gimme a shout if you need me, ok?"

Medic smiled.

"Will do." 

The Aussie turned and went back to the sofa. In front of it was a coffee table and a fireplace against the wall. It was lit up and Sniper could feel its heat diffuse to the sofa, slowly. 

"Here, coffee and some cookies." 

Medic brought the tray and sat down next to Sniper. 

"Cookies?" 

"Ja, Pyro baked them for me the other day after I fixed his arm."

Sniper stared at the star and heart-shaped cookies with multicolored sprinkles. 

"Guessed as much."

"Did you?" Medic asked, handing Sniper his mug. 

"You don't come across as the heart shaped cookie bakin' type…" Sniper leaned his arm on the back of the sofa.

"Very perceptive you are." Medic leaned his head on the Aussie's shoulder and they chuckled. 

"Should take a break like the others, y'know, ease out on the work."

"Experiments don't carry themselves out unfortunately." 

"Guess so. But what if I ask you to take a break?"

"Why?"

Sniper put his now empty mug away and looked down at Medic. He held his chin between his index and thumb. 

"Cause I wanna spend time with you, darl'." He tilted the German's face upwards and stared into his eyes, through the thin pair of glasses. Sniper smiled. "Please." 

Medic's eyebrows rose up and he grinned back. He removed his gloves and threw them away on the sofa before wrapping an arm around Sniper. 

"Hard for me to refuse when you plead me with such beautiful eyes." 

"You got some pretty eyes too, eh." 

"Flatterer." 

"Nah, just sayin' what I'm thinking."

"Mmh." Medic buried his head under Sniper's jaw, on his chest and he felt his arms wrap around him. 

"Missed you, luv'."

"So did I." 

They stared at the dancing flames of the fireplace and their breaths synced slowly, Medic's head was rising and falling to the rhythm of Sniper's calm breathing. 

"Oh…?" Medic's surprise escaped his lips as he felt Sniper's fingers slide between his. 

"I wanna spend a bit more time with you, y'know. Sometimes, I don't go to your office not because I care about what people would say or because I don't want to. It's cause I don't wanna bother you but…"

"But?" Medic asked. 

"But I miss you, I really do…" Sniper tightened his hug and clenched his fingers between the German's. "I wish we could spend a full day together and…"

"I thought you were wary of the others learning for us?"

"I'm sure Spy knows, the rest will, one day or another. Besides, I just wanna spend the winter break with you." 

Medic raised his head to his lover. 

"Me too, Sniper…" 

Their lips met in the quiet and dark room, the warmth from the fireplace hardly rivaling with the hot touch of their hands brushing past their clothes. 

"Please…" Sniper asked, sliding a hand behind Medic's head, through his hair. "Please stay with me tonight." 

Medic bit his lip. His hands slid on Sniper's collar and up to his rough, scruffy cheeks. 

"I will."

Sniper's delight came out of him in a silent gasp and a wide smile. He pulled Medic's face again to kiss him, for longer this time and they dived on the sofa, the German on top of the Aussie, ruffling his brown, short hair as their lips brushed, nipped and pulled. 

"Give me more than one night… Wake up next to me, please…"

Sniper curled a leg behind the white lab-coat and pulled the man below it flush against him. Their kisses went more heated and their lips were wet and slightly swollen from all the attention there. 

"I will." 

Medic removed his lab-coat and threw it away. Sniper pulled the blanket that was hanging on the back of the sofa and covered them both. The German just lied on top of the man that kept him safe after a long day of work. Sniper understood him, wordlessly. He knew when to ask for attention and when Medic didn't have the strength for it. 

That day, all the German wanted was affection. Affection and strong arms to hold him. He lay on Sniper, his head on the Aussie's chest and he felt long fingers play with his black, short hair. 

"Thanks, luv'. I know I might be askin' a lot from you but… You have no idea how good it feels to wake up with you instead of just, y'know, a big empty bed…"

"I do apologise, Sniper. I should spend more time with you."

"It's alright. I understand, you like your work, it's fine."

"Yes but…" Medic raised his head to look Sniper in the eyes. He smiled. "I love you and I would much rather spend my evening with you than with paperwork. You are right, my love."

"About what?" 

"Let's make this winter break all about us."

"What d'you mean?"

"I mean that you can bring a bit more clothes here and stay with me for a couple of weeks…?"

"Seriously?" 

"Ja, I can spend my days and my nights with you."

Sniper's face radiated with a wide smile. 

"You'd do that? Really?" 

"Ja, we all deserve a break and I could do with a bit more affection from you." 

"Well I got loads of it for you, eh." Sniper's hands brushed Medic's back slowly under the blanket. 

"Perfect…"

"Uh… Would you…?"

"Would I what?" 

"Would you… have some… for me, maybe?" Sniper blushed and his eyes darted left and right in embarrassment. He wasn't so good when it came to words but had an incredible intuition when it came to moves...

"Of course." Medic pushed his lips on Sniper's and let his tongue brush past the hunter's chapped lips, which pulled a low growl from the wild man.

"Gosh… I'm so happy, I… Thanks, really." 

"You are welcome, Sniper." 

They snuggled up under the blanket and in front of the fireplace, they both warmed up nicely. 

"I got you somethin' for Christmas."

Medic's eyes snapped wide. 

"Did you?" 

"Yeah."

"Why? I mean… I didn't."

"Yeah, you did." 

"What?" Medic asked.

"You're spending a couple of weeks with me. That's… Better than Christmas…!"

"Saying things like that makes me realise even more how much I neglected you…"

Medic raised his head with his now ruffled hair and they exchanged a kiss.

"So please, show me what you got us…?" Medic asked.

"Want it now?"

"Ja, why not?"

"I guess I can… I've been carryin' them on me all the time for you not to find them by accident or anythin'."

"Oh…" 

Sniper slid a hand in his pocket and retrieved his secret gift. 

"Alright, you're ready?" He asked, putting his still clenched fist in front of Medic's face. 

"Ja." 

Sniper opened his hand and two bracelets lay in his palms. 

"Oh… They look lovely…" 

"I made them m'self." 

"The wooden pearls you carved yourself?"

"Yeah." 

"Oh, and what is this pendant?"

"Look at it. Carved it myself too. I had to go and get a book from the Teufort library to do it, cause I didn't really know what it looked like."

Medic held one of the bracelets. 

"It looks like an anatomically correct heart with an arrow piercing through it, but that's only the left half of it…" 

"Look at the other bracelet, luv'."

Medic took the other one and looked at the pendant. 

"Oh mein Gott… That's the right half…!"

"Yeah, I carved a little wooden heart, lookin' at an anatomy book, then carved the arrow, then cut it in halves. You get one and I get the other. Looks less ridiculous than a classic heart and it makes sense."

"Ja! And I guess the heart represents me and the arrow, you?"

"Yeah, you got it."

"I am… Speechless… It must have taken you hours to make them…"

"Who cares? It was fun and it made me think about you for hours. C'mon, wear it and show me!"

Medic slid one around his wrist and put one around Sniper's. 

"I feel like a little boy again…" The German doctor chuckled. 

"Yeah, bit childish maybe but uh…"

"Nein, please, I didn't mean it in a bad way, on the contrary. I guess this is the true spirit of Christmas." 

"Yeah, sort of." Sniper slid his fingers through Medic. 

"I love you, Sniper. Thank you so much for your gift."

"You're welcome. Love ya too, oh, mmh…" 

Medic slid up on Sniper to take his lips again. The flames of the fireplace danced as their bodies followed another choreography. The doctor and the hunter took their time that night. Maybe it was Christmas, maybe it was the gift, or maybe they had yearned for each other that much. 

That year, they did spend a Merry Christmas indeed.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Horror Villains / Slenderman and Seedeater x Reader || Oneshot

Title: Into the Unknown

Notes:

Based off the song from Frozen ‘Into the Unknown’.

One Horror Villain in particular is in this story. Wait and try to figure out who it is before it ends ^^ (;

‘X Reader’ as in you’re going to interact with them. Not as in you’re in a romance with them all. 

The Horror Villains are only really mentioned. Except the one you gotta watch out for

I love this. So. Much. 

Plot: Reader has spent her whole life, from 13 years old, searching for, defeating and understanding the creatures of night. They’ve always fascinated her- that they’re so dark, and yet still so coherent. She felt drawn to them, because she felt like she understood them. And she loved the thrill, of being a part of it.

But she stopped that years ago. She’s a grandmother now, a wife. Which isn’t to say that she regrets being either of those things. In fact, she loves it. Which is the very reason she’s put her monster hunting days behind her. She can’t put the people around her in danger, but… there’s something, in the woods, calling out to her.

Warnings: I don't think there is anything actually?  

~~~

I have a surprising, out of the ordinary amount to think about, while you wash the dishes today. See, the window above this houses sink, adorned with pale blue and pink swirls over a white base paint, looks out onto the Black Forest, which unironically is the bane of my existence right now. Something about it, is clearly off in some way. More people disappear between its perimeter then Crystal Lake, Haddonfield and Pleasant Valley put together. And that’s just what normal people, without my experience and expertise can see.

I can feel it. A gut warning, not to go in there. Not for a walk, not to explore and definitely not respond to its calls. I can feel it like a tugging at my heart, like what forced my feet to move down the aisle on my wedding day, and what makes people run away from the basement at night once the lights are turned off all at once. I know there’s something in there, and something in me definitely wants to go see. To feel the adventure in the wind again on my face.

But I won’t. I can’t.

There’s something in this house calling for me to stay away, as well. It’s called family, and love. And no mystical forest is going to tear me from it.

Finishing the last plate, I pull big rubber gloves off my hands and drop them on the side of the sink and flash the forest one more dirty look, before turning away completely and leaving the room.

At this time of day, the yellow painted walls look more a beautiful, late day orange. Shadows from the trees hit, as well, and as I open the windows to let in the air, I feel immediate relaxation as the coolness caresses my cheeks and my neck. Settles me down, grounds me. Fills my heart with something other then the longing and disobedience I’m forcing upon myself.

Once all the windows are open, so I can clearly hear the wind chimes outside and the rooms all cool down, goose bumps crawling up my arms in a good way, I pick up a book from the shelf under the dusty TV and settle myself down comfortably in a chair covered in pillows in various floral designs. Yes, its an old lady chair, but its comforting and looks good with the rest of the décor.

Half an hour of peaceful reading successfully takes my mind off of the forest and whoever, or whatever, is in and allows me to disappear half inside the pages of another murder mystery. Then I hear the bell I handily fixed to the front door because my husband walks completely silently, jingle like an old Café signalling him getting home. “I’ve returned. I managed to find the bickies you like on my travels, so you’ll love me for another day I think.”

A nearly delicate snort escapes me at that, purely happy he’s back and put down my book as the door shuts again and the disembodied voice becomes Hudson when he round the hallway corner and enters the livingroom. A bag of groceries in each hand, which I get up and help him with immediately, taking one and peaking inside. Aha! The biscuits! He laughs softly, at my antic and leads me to kitchen, so we can put the books away. I risk a glance out the window, at the forest just so see how dark it is now. Not orange, but a dusky blue. I turn away from the forest coldly, which cuts off its calls to me in response, and turn on the light.

“So, how were your travels?” I ask, pulling the milk and some sandwich meats out of a bag and heading to the fridge, which he opens for me on instinct before taking the warm foods to the cupboard.

“A hassle, I’m sure is what you want to hear as I was away from you for so long,” I flash him a cheeky look at that for being so cheeky himself, and get another soft laugh back. Almost inhuman, its so soft. I’ve always thought, he must have some fae in him, and theorised that he’s a changing. “But it was quite nice. I walked all down the shops, and looked in most of them. Not the butchers, though. You know why.”

Ah, yeah. The man running the desk there, Dexter, is a bit of a flirt. But instead of admitting that I pick up on his advances, I shrug and take a seat at the kitchen table to watch him put away the rest of warm groceries. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. But go on.”

A deep sigh escapes him, which is totally put on as I know he finds my antics endearing- he’s told me too many times before. “You know very well, but whatever. I did go into the Indian grocery though, and I picked up some of those spices I sent you a picture of, and… “He goes on about the spices, which truly did interest me, as they were all the way from New Delhi and had beautiful jars, but suddenly the feeling from the forest picked up. Got stronger, and grew to fill every inch of me. If I were a dog, my ears would perk up and my nose would be going crazy.

That same call for midnight adventure, now made worse because of beautiful night air that made me feel so much better before, as if it’s changed tactics. For a few moments, at least, I stare off into space, towards the tall trees and darkness between trunks of the Black Forest. For a second, I allow myself to wonder what’s in there. Well actually, ‘allow’ may not be the wrong word, as it was completely out of my control.

But then Hudson’s hand lands gently on my shoulder, as he sinks into the seat beside me and successfully knocks me back to my senses just in time. A relieved sigh escapes me on accident, as I turn from the window again and to him. Senses crash down on me and I drop my shoulders. “I’m so sorry, I’m tired today.”

“Tired. Is that what we’re calling it?” He raises his eyebrows, knowing very well what’s really going on with me. And I know what he thinks I should do. But I can’t. Who knows what’s in that forest? It could be dangerous. Could be voodoo, like Chucky. Or something worse, something more demented like spirit. I wont call that to my family by revealing myself to it. He squeezes my shoulder and it’s halfway between comforting and advocative. So, I give him a look, but I lean into him.

“You know why I can’t give in to it.” My voice is nothing but a whisper, because who knows. It could be listening.

“Too much of you is part of that side of the world, Y/N. You can’t cut it off, you should give it a chance.” I look away from his face, and definitely away from the window. The wall, then. “I’m afraid it’ll rip you apart.

“Then so be it.” I don’t really mean it. To take care of my family, I need to be here. And even without that, I’m not ready to die. The years of fighting off things that have, has assured that fear in me. But I want this conversation to be over, so I say it.

He sets me with a serious look, like just saying that hurts him he wants me to never do it again. I glance at him, and sigh. “Promise me to think about it?”

“Can’t do that.” He knows, I can’t.

“… well, its not as if you can avoid it. Its ingrained in you. I’ll just wait and see.” Those little comments, although very true, have me gaping at his audacity. He flashes me a mischievous grin, then pull me up to our feet and wraps an arm around me. “Come on, darling. Let’s go to bed, then. I don’t foresee this conversation ending well for either of us.”

“Clever boy.” I clip, grinning at him when he gapes himself.

~~~

Later that night, once the sky is a deep, dark midnight blue and the stars and the moon are only just causing enough light to see shapes and dull colours by, I’m still wide awake. Hudson’s fallen into a peaceful sleep, but I’m still laying on my back with my eyes wide open, staring at the uneventful ceiling. The feeling calling me to the forest is so loud, in my ears now like rushing water at the pool, or a waterfall. Or tsunami.

I shouldn’t go. I can’t. I won’t!

The window in our room faces the same way as the kitchen, and if I only get up I could see it. Curb some of this pressure.

But if I do that, there’s a 50/50 chance that I’ll snap and go marauding into the forest at night. Which is dangerous without the definite mystical being hugged inside it.

I really shouldn’t go.

Another couple seconds pass, and I’m getting out of bed and pulling on my dressing down over my comfortable, soft pyjamas. I pass right over the window like the dauntless I am and go right to the front door, which I swing open. A cold rush of air, definitely not from natural sources, comes at me like waking up ice and I look out to the forest, which is a football field sized walk through the snow to get to from here. But that isn’t what’s daunting, despite the fact that I’m only wearing fuzzy socks and slippers to protect my feet.

No, it’s the figure waiting for me. Its huge, too, and I can’t figure anything else in the dark and from this distance. A final moment passes, and I pull a ski hat on over my head and my ears and go marauding towards the forest. “To hell.” I snap, on my way with my fists clenched.

About hallway towards the being, the monster, it starts coming towards me, as well. I don’t know what to expect when I get there. I all I know is that the feeling I’m getting off of it this moment is not benevolent, and I try to believe that. Finally, when we get within 5 feet of each other, we stop. It’s got a skull face that would be horrifying to anyone who hadn’t already seen what’s under the Midnight Man’s mask and the horrible screaming faces on a dream demon’s stomach. And its also got hair, human like and soft looking but unbrushed and probably never been washed, all over its bulging body. It stays still, only moving enough to breath out visible steam from its skull head into the world.

Not one to shy away, and certainly not one to stand by and just look when I’ve been called and decided to come, I take the remaining steps to it. Slowly, and cautiously. I raise my hand like you do when you’re approaching a wild beast, so it can smell you and theirs at least one thing between you and its teeth, which really wouldn’t help but at least makes you feel better, and focus on the way my shoes crush gently into the centre metres of sand under them. The sound’s satisfying, and calms me enough to reach the monster, and touch my hand to the middle of its skull.

A grunt escapes it, causing more frosty air to come out from him and into the world, before he sits his behind down into the snow without fear and pushes gently back into my hand. I feel that familiar, unreal joy at being with another creature, and start gently stroking up and down the smooth material, a puff of frosty air escaping my own mouth as I break into a smile. “Ohh, were you the only thing hiding in those woods? Oh, you’re a sweetheart. I’m glad we met.” A giggle escapes me when he tilts his head and I watch the delicate way his long, wispy fur moves in the wind. He’s the kind of beautiful that forces a smile on you, and a giggle out. Personally, my favourite kind of beautiful.

Relaxing, as the feeling calling me to the forest all but dissipates, I stay with him for a little while longer. As long as I can, actually. In the end, he’s the one who gets up, taps my nose with his huge one, and turns away and trots off. I watch him go, in complete peace and content…

Before my stomach drops and a realisation, made dull because of the nice experience I just had, hits me. The feeling’s come right back, now that he’s leaving, and taking the relief with him. “You… weren’t, the thing calling to me, were you?” I ask it so quietly, I didn’t think he would hear.

But a roar is my response. And the air around me, or in me, whispers Right…

Theirs more.

~~~

The next morning I poor Hudson orange juice and slide it over the bench to him, avoiding the discussion of last nights adventure for as long as I can. Because I know, he knows. He knows everything, somehow. And he’s been giving me a knowing look all morning.

“So,” The mischievous way his voice bends around that conjunction is wholly obnoxious, but I hide my eyeroll badly by drinking my own orange juice. It only makes him want to talk more. “Are you going to go back, tonight?”

Of course! Of course, he knows that theirs more to see. Changeling, for sure.

Setting him with a ‘Stop’ look, I round the counter and head for the living room to sit down and read some more of my book to get away from this, but of course he follows me. “Probably not, in answer to your question.”

He straddles the footrest that goes with this chair and takes my book from me, so I have to focus on him. “Sweetheart, I just want you to be happy. And well.”

“And I you.” I say curtly, and because I want to end this conversation.

“That’s wonderful to hear, darling, but you know what I mean. Didn’t meeting that big, dog-monster feel good?”

Of course, it did…

To that, I have no sarcastic or show-stopping response, because yes. I felt the best then than I have since the last monster. I love monsters, and Slashers, and creatures and beings. They’re my passion, my thing. But I didn’t choose that, and I guess that’s what caught me, here.

I picked my family.

I guess what I’m between, is what I chose and what I didn’t.

I take a deep breath, and look back at him.

~~~

… okay. I think, readying myself to go in. I’ve got a satchel with some food, a couple charms, my compass and all the crystals in the house- plus some dried chamomile petals in little bag, for safety and protection. Don’t know how effective these things will be, you never know when you go up against something new, but it’s definitely worth a shot.  

I’m just squaring my shoulders to go, and start my trek across the field, when Hudson’s hands fall on my shoulders and nearly causes me a stroke. He never makes noise when he walks!! And he knows he scared me, too, if the chuckling is anything to go by. Oh my god…

“Goodluck sweetheart, I have the utmost faith in you.” Oh, his voice is way too cheerful because he won. I should make rissoles tonight, then he’ll be sorry. He hates rissoles. I bet he’s smiling.

Bastard.

“Thank you.”

“Goodbye kiss?”

I turn over my shoulder to look at him, and give him just a squinty smile. “Not on your life!”

“Ooh, you wound me. Okay, have fun!” Well, he seemed to get over that ailment quickly, seeing as he pats my butt to get me going. I shoot him one more greasy, then get on my way.

Across the field to possibly certain doom… but also possible delicious, wonderful adventure, I go.

As I travel across the field and into the forest, whispering in me and in the air gets louder. Just like the voice that said ‘Right’, last night, this one is. Except more urgent, and getting worse the further I go, pushing me on. I feel like what I’m reaching is big.

Past bushes and beautiful autumnal environment I go all the way through, stepping over logs and around trees that stand in my way because the voice knows where I need to go, and therefore so do I.

An hour passes of just stomping, and travelling, until abruptly the voice tells me to Stop! Harshly, of course I follow its instructions. Who am I to ignore a wind voice.

At first, I look slowly around thinking I’ll see it just standing there, waiting for me in plain sight like the monster from last night. And when I don’t see anything, I look harder, because maybe its camouflaged? Eventually though, after about 10 minutes of staying where I am, where it told me to Stop, I give up just peering around and move. I walk around the clearing, forest floor covered in brick coloured, marmalade shades, and dandelion painted leaves, and wet sticks, and patches of snow, and look in as many different ways as I can think of. Maybe I’m looking for something super small… maybe something so big it blends into the picture… maybe it’s not animalistic but a mystical object… But alas, nothing.

Until, eventually, I turn around he’s just there.

“-Holy fuck!-“ I react, jumping back from what, or who, is obviously what I was looking for, having not expected at all for him to be just standing there where I already checked 3 times when I turned around. An otherworldly and staticky yet still somehow spiteful chuckle fills the forest, somehow coming from the whispering of the wind and his person at once.

“Thought I might have some fun, seeing as you made me wait so long. How’s that for consideration? I have things to do, you know.” When he talks, theirs surprisingly no humour evident in his voice. In fact, he sounds bitter, and annoyed.

“Well, hey, man. I didn’t RSVP so you shouldn’t have been expecting me in the first place.” I snap back, getting up from where I’d fallen on my butt and peeling wet leaves off my jacket.

“Hm, no, well I suppose you aren’t the one who called this meeting, so… “He mutters- well, I say mutter because he says it like he doesn’t want me to hear, but he doesn’t lower his voice. He’s not afraid of me hearing, he would just appreciate it if I wouldn’t listen.

Cocky bastard.

I watch, cautiously as he raises a long, white, spiderlike finger to his left temple and taps it. “Telepathetic.”

“Oh… “Heat builds up in my cheeks, despite the freezing cold. “Uh, sorry.”

“And I thought you mortals were aware of me… Offender sure as heck doesn’t try to keep us a secret.” That unlocks knowledge in me. He’s Slenderman, of course! I didn’t realise, because I truly didn’t think he existed! A Creepypasta, used to curb teenage lust and loneliness. But, honestly, his figure should have led me to that conclusion. And if not that, then the hundreds of other clues. The way the voice in the ‘wind’ sounded like it was in my own head, the very fact that we’re locate din the Black Forest, in Germany… Maybe Hudson’s right, and I’m out of tune.

“Hm, yes, quite. You are incompetent.” Man, that telepathy is going to be a pain. I thought Slenderman was supposed to be a gentleman… but, then again. I guess, he is a recluse. And he really doesn’t care what he says.

Despite his rudeness, it is amazing that he’s real. It sparks an awe in me, that’s even more intense then the creature from last night. He, is the epitome of what monster hunters and explorers want to prove is real. He’s... a dream come true. I’m… I’m tickled, and… humbled, to get to meet him. So tall, and amazing. Majestic from every angle.

But… I’m still confused.

“So, what did you want me for, anyway?”

Immediately, the long, thin tentacles that were hanging decoratively dormant around Slenderman flick annoyedly and his mood takes an instant change to even worse. I take a quick step back, hoping beyond hope that distance will calm him down. Because if now, there is no way anything in my satchel will save me. “What did I want from you?! Why… He said you n- … “Again, with the ‘he’. Who’s he?

I want to know, but not enough to get decapitated for it so I don’t ask out loud.

Slenderman’s words cut off into static air sizzling around us, as the cogs in his brain start working faster, I’m sure, before he comes to a conclusion. He turns his head to ‘look’ at me again, without eyes, and stays silent for a moment. The air feels even colder then before, as the static gets momentarily unbearable and I squeak, covering my ears. Then it cuts off, and he sighs in utter annoyance. “Get out of my forest.” And with those last, sweet parting words, he disappears.

“I… “ I look around, to make sure he isn’t waiting behind me to kill me, because he just seems like that kind of monster, before closing my mouth and curtly turning to go home. Well, that was… I’m not quite sure.

It was amazing, getting to meet him… I’ll never forget it. My heart’s beat feels errative, and calm all at once because this is my passion… but… I’m still confused. Who’s ‘he’? Why did Slenderman call me? What was all this about?

But… then again… I think as I walk. As disappointing and hard as it may be for me, and any other monster afficionado… the fact of Slender’s age does have to play a part. And the fact, if we are to believe all the information that’s on the internet, that he lives alone and contact others as little as possible, so… well, he might just be off his rocker. Maybe… Maybe I shouldn’t put much stock into the things he said. He seemed confused himself. And, to be honest, a little instable.

I worry my bottom lip as I emerge from the forest again and hour later, or less because the way back always takes less.

If I’ve learnt nothing from this experience… except of course the Slenderman is real and a real jerk, too… it’s that I cant live anymore without this feeling, that I get when I adventure, and meet something new. When I realise, that all the myths and legends and stories that humans have told over the years may be true, somehow.

It builds me up, and makes me feel brave. I’ve missed it.

I… I don’t know, if I can go back to dormancy.

After I open the front door of my house, and close it behind me I lean back into it, tired and giddy. I’m so giddy, that I nearly don’t notice the smell of dinner on the stove but when I do my tummy rumbles, and I push off the door and go into the kitchen. I find the pot on the stove, and a note on the pot lid.

‘Y/N, dearest.

I’ve gone out for a walk while this boils. So, if you come home while I’m out, know I’ve just gone down the path in the backyard, not run off away from you for I could never do such a thing.

I hope your trip went well, and I can’t wait to hear about it over dinner.

Oh, and the garlic bread is in the oven and is probably burning.

Xoxo,

-          Hudson I.’

“Gah!” Garlic bread! I smell it now! Damnit Hudson!

~~~ BACK IN THE FOREST. THIRD PERSON POV~~~

The man in the dark coat, and silvery beard, slips easily into Slender Mansion and to Slender’s study without the other Pasta’s knowledge, but certainly not without Slenders knowledge.

“You made go see that stupid girl as your one favour… and she didn’t even know you sent me after her??” The pen in Slenders hand snaps, making him sighs deeply and put it down, wiping his hand of ink with a handkerchief. Inkubus but smiles.

“She needed to be reminded of what she loved. It was important enough for the favour to me.”

“You’ve confused her. I don’t think I’d keep things from my mortal, if I ever was idiot enough to fall in love with one… “Slender finishes cleaning his fingers, and turns in his seat to drop the ruined handkerchief in the bin by his desk. He sighs, in defeat, because he knows he will never get through to the other immortal. He’s never been able to, before. What’s new now? “But, then again, I wouldn’t make that mistake, so I really don’t know.”

“She’ll be fine. Anyway, I just wanted to thank you. I saw the whole thing, and it worked wonderfully.” 

Slender sets Inkubus which is a blank look to anyone else, but which is one of total deadpan to him. “Whatever. It was a favour, so now you can go back to your wife. You burnt the garlic bread, and she’s not happy about it.”

[simonxriley]

Tachanka and Skylar first kiss?

Thank you!! And tbh I’ve been wanting to write about this for a while now and you gave me the opportunity, not that I wouldn’t have written this eventually! 

Kiss prompts

Also on Ao3

Russian Translations: Kotyonok = Kitten. Milaya = Darling. Der’mo = Crap and  водка = Vodka.

Parties were never Skylar’s thing, or at least not until she came to Rainbow. It was the yearly holiday party and she was talking with Valkyrie with a drink in hand about their plans for Christmas. Valkyrie was going back home to visit her parents’ in California and Skylar wasn’t sure about what she was doing, was she going back home to Maine to visit her parents; and sisters’ or staying on base. Luckily she still had time to think of an answer.

The room was filled with the majority of the Operators mingling amongst one another with drinks in hand as music played in the background. From where she stood with Valkyrie she could see Bandit and Jager talking on the couch, probably over some documentary Jager saw the night before. Thermite was talking with Pulse and Hibana on the other side of the room, about who knows what and she saw Tachanka with Glaz, Kapkan and Fuze doing shots of Russian vodka at a nearby table.

“So have you had any good mission’s lately?” asked Valkyrie after a moment.

“No.” she snorts. “I haven’t been called on a mission for a while, the last one I went on was three weeks ago.”

Skylar took a sip of her beer, glancing over at the Slavs with their vodka that she would very much like to help drink with them.

“Maybe you’ll get lucky and Six will call you for more missions.”

“Hopefully, I’m getting bored with no action. There’s only so much training I can handle with no missions.”

Valkyrie nodded her head in agreement and took a sip of her drink. “It’s funny how our lives can be either very hectic or boring.”

She took another sip of her beer, watching Kapkan take a shot before turning her attention back to Valkyrie. “Sometimes I miss how it was when I was with the Marines. We might not have a mission, but at least we had something to do throughout the day. Here, we train in the morning and are free for the rest of the day. There’s not much to do here.”

“It was the same in the Navy. There isn’t much to do in little old Hereford, I’m sure we could find a lot to do in London. If it wasn’t three hours away.” Confusion etched on her face as her phone went off. She grabbed it from her pocket, looking down to see who it was. “I’m sorry, our conversation is gonna have to get cut short. Ela needs me.”

“I wonder what for.” She shot her a knowing look, making her shakes her head. ”Alright, have fun.”

“Thanks and enjoy the rest of the party.”

Skylar watched her leave, then sighed. She didn’t know what she should do, head back to her room or go over to where Thermite, Pulse and Hibana were. After watching them for a moment she decided to head to her room. She only took a few steps until a certain familiar Russian accent spoke her name.

She turned around seeing Tachanka waving her over. “Fuze left us for his Matryoshka. I need a partner.”

“A partner for what exactly?” She arched a brow, glancing between him and Glaz and Kapkan.

“Uh...drinking.”

She laughed and walked over to them, sitting in the seat that was once occupied by Fuze. “How can I say no to that.”

They all laughed and Glaz slid one of the shot glasses over to her and poured her a drink. She nodded her head in thanks and downed it, scrunching her face for a brief second as it went down.

“Oh, that’s actually pretty good.”

“Good.” said Tachanka as he grabbed the beer bottle in front of her and moved it to the side. “Now you can drink some authentic Russian водка instead of that der’mo.”

She turned her head to glare at him and huffed. “Don’t judge my drinking habits, I didn’t want to get full on drunk tonight. Unfortunately vodka is my kryptonite and you offered.”

Kapkan chuckled as he poured all of them another shot.

“I didn’t take you for a hard liquor person Skylar.” said Glaz after downing his shot.

“It tastes better than beer and it’s easier to sneak onto a base.” she glanced between Kapkan and Glaz, feeling Tachanka’s eyes on her. “So what are you guys doing for the holidays?”

Kapkan drank his shot, placing the glass back on the table. “I’m going on a hunting trip, get away from the city and visit my family.”

“I’m going home too.” said Glaz. “Mama wouldn’t be too happy if I didn’t.”

They all turned to Tachanka who was being rather quiet. Which was a little unusual for the man.

“What about you?” asked Skylar

He leaned forward, placing both of his arms on the table and sighed. “I don’t know yet, I might stay on base, might go back to Saint Petersburg.”

She nodded her head. “Yeah I don’t know if I’m going back to Bangor or staying here. I don’t really want to fly for eight hours.”

“Won’t your family miss you?” asked Glaz

Skylar quickly downed the shot that was still in her glass and sighed. “Yes, but they’ll understand. And I can always go back for my birthday, when the airports won’t be busy with all the people traveling for the holiday’s.”

They all nodded in agreement. No one liked travelling, let alone during the holidays when the airport is packed with a bunch of people, crying kids and chaos. Even though their lives may be chaos from time to time, an airport during the holiday season was worse.

“Makes sense.” Kapkan grabbed the bottle pouring himself another glass. “I’m looking forward to getting off base for a few weeks, disappear into the woods for a while. Where it’s peaceful and quiet.”

“Honestly, that sounds really nice.” Skylar gave him a small smile than looked over at Glaz. “Don’t you live in a port town?”

“Da, I do. Lots of boats and fishermen.”

“Ooo, do you fish?” asked Skylar with a smile on her face. “I do sometimes with my dad.”

Glaz’s face lit up and he sat up a bit straighter. “I do a little bit. I’m really good at a fisherman’s knot.”

Kapkan scoffed and set the bottle back down on the table. “You do it wrong Timur. How many times have I told you that.”

“I do not do it wrong Maxim. I was taught by an actual fisherman, you learned from a book.” Glaz retorted back.

“Timur I was deployed to the Barents Sea, I didn’t learn from a book.”

As Kapkan and Glaz started to argue over the correct way on how to make a fisherman's knot Tachanka tapped Skylar’s shoulder and motioned for her to follow him.

He got up from his seat as did she and followed him out of the room and down the small hallway to the door leading outside. She looked up at him with a raised brow and amusement etched on her face.

“We’re going outside?”

“Da. I thought it would do us some good to get some fresh air and away from everyone.”

She nodded her head in agreement. “No argument there.”

Tachanka chuckled and opened the door for her. She gave him a smile as she walked past him, feeling the cool evening air on her body. Then she noticed it was snowing, it was hard to see outside from the mess-hall the party was in because of the glare from the lights.

He let the door shut on it’s own and started to walk over to her, that’s when he noticed the smile on her face. “You like the snow?”

She crossed her arms and leaned against the beam of the awning, watching the snowfall down to the ground. “I do actually, I think it looks pretty.”

He stood beside her, crossing his own arms and hummed. “It does look pretty. I can name prettier.”

Skylar turned her head towards him, seeing him look out across the yard. “Can you now? What’s more prettier in Lord Tachanka’s eyes.”

Tachanka turned his head back to her, narrowing his eyes for a brief second and then chuckled. “My LMG.”

The smile that graced her face made his heart skip a beat, but her laugh, her laugh was one of the things that could melt his heart into a puddle. And for someone as blunt as he is, he couldn’t find it in him to say, he found her more prettier than the snow. So he went for the obvious instead.

“Of course, I should’ve known.” She chuckled and looked back out to watch the snow fall. “You do seem to love that thing quite a bit.”

“It’s the first Degtyaryov I received, it’s gone through countless updates, made by me and has saved my life and others more times than I can count.”

“Good point.” She looked over at him and sighed. “I know you don’t like people touching it, but would you ever let someone, you really trust to hold it?”

He turned to her with an amused look on his face. “Skylar! Do you want to hold my Degtyaryov?”

“No!” She chuckled. “I was just wondering if you would let anyone hold it. Besides I don’t even think I could lift it.”

He didn’t truly believe her that she didn’t want to hold it, why else would she have asked almost coily? “If someone comes around that I trust enough with it, I’ll let them. It’s not that heavy milaya, I’m sure you could pick it up with ease.”

“Yes mister I’m built like a tank.” She laughed. “I wonder who that person will be.”

“I am not built like a tank.” He chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know, maybe I haven’t met the person yet.”

Skylar laughed again and looked back out onto the yard. Christmas was right around the corner and she has no clue what she was doing. She didn’t want to take that eight hour flight back to Maine in a cramped and grounded plane, but she knew her parents’ might get upset that she’s staying on base for the holidays when they’re so excited to see her.

“Or maybe you have and you just haven’t realized it yet.”

“Maybe.” He looked back over at her, taking in her beauty from the nearby light. “How’s training with Kapkan? He’s mentioned he took you under his wing.”

“It’s going good.” She turned to him with a small smile on her face. “I’m learning a lot from him.”

“That’s good, you don’t think he’s too intense? A lot of people he trains say he is.”

“I went through the hardest basic training in the US, I can handle Kapkan.”

He watched as her eyes glimmered, tugging at his heart. He loved how she could come off as innocent, like she didn’t know the harsh’s of war or what it can do to people. It seemed like she was plucked from the streets and placed inside Rainbow. Still, he wasn’t that stupid, he’s been in the military long enough to know it was a facade and that she’s seen the worse of the worse. The huge scar on her neck and collarbone tells the truth.

“Point taken.”

She snorted, then pushed herself off of the post and walked out into the snow. The snow crunched under her boot with every step, and then an idea popped into her head. She glanced back at Tachanka who happen to be looking down at his phone, with a smirk on her face she leaned down and grabbed some snow, packing it in her hands to form a snowball.

“Hey?”

As soon as he looked up she threw it at him, hitting him right in the chest. He looked down at the spot where it hit then back to her. That’s when she saw that devious smirk spread across his face. He placed his phone back in his pocket and took a step forward, leaning down to pick up some snow to make his own snowball.

“Didn’t your mama ever tell you it’s not nice to throw things at people?” He chuckled as he launched the snowball at her, only to have her move to the side before it could hit her in the chest.

She laughed and leaned down again to make another snowball. “And didn’t your mama teach you the same thing?”

She threw the snowball in his direction seeing him dodge it this time. She pouted her bottom lip as she watched him walk closer to her with another snowball in hand.

With a smirk on her face she began to back up, keeping her distance. Skylar knew he was taunting her by slowly walking towards her when he could easily take a few steps forward and get her.  

As Tachanka slowly walked towards her, tossing the snowball in the air and back down to his hand, he looked at her with a devious look in his eyes and a smirk on his face. That sent a shiver down her spine. “Why are you walking away Skylar? Afraid you’ll get hit with a snowball too?”

“Nonsense. I’m not afraid of a little snow.” She slowed down her pace a little, glancing at the snowball in his hand. “I just don’t trust that mischievous look on your face Alex.”

“What mischievous look, kotyonok?”

Skylar to another step back, unfortunately hitting an icy spot and fell backwards. Tachanka dropped the snowball and reached out to grab. Only to miss and fall forward, landing on top of her.

Luckily he didn’t land his full weight on her, keeping it on his arms instead. He looked down at her laughing, eyes crinkling at the side.

“I can’t believe we fell.”

“Well, we sure did. I’m just happy I didn’t land on you fully.”

Her laughing died down and they locked eyes. Tachanka brought his hand up, moving some strands of brown chestnut hair out of her face.

She gulped, feeling her heart skipped a beat as she gazed into his blue eyes, not knowing if she should ask him to move off of her or to stay where she was. Something about having him on top of her was turning her on and she couldn’t deny the attraction she felt for him.

Tachanka inhaled a breath, slowly moving his face closer to hers until their lips met in a firm, yet sensual kiss.

Skylar hummed into it, bringing her hand up to cup the side of his face. A brief moment later he pulled away, looking down at her with a smile on his face.

She mirrored his smile and giggled. “Was that the real reason we were out here Alex?”

“More or less.” He chuckled.

He got off her and up onto his feet, then offered her his hand. She smiled up at him and took it. After he lifted her back up on her feet she brushed off any snow that was on her pants and shirt.

“More or less huh?”

A small smile spread across his face and he shook his head, then cupped her face in his hands. “Why don’t we head back inside kotyonok? Grab the extra bottle of vodka and continue this in my room?”

“I think I would like that!”

“Good!”

He leaned down giving her another kiss before letting go of her face to grab her hand, leading her back into the building. Skylar smiled to herself, wondering what this night was about to bring.

[swift-is-sunshine]

Lover

The tree was covered in lights and ornaments, topped off with glowing star. The house was decked out in Christmas decorations from roof to floor. The Alwyn-Swift family was ready to jump right into Christmas. Parents Joe Alwyn, world famous actor, and Taylor Swift, world famous musician, sat on the couch early Christmas morning and watched their daughter Emily stare in awe at the present she had unwrapped from its bright pink wrapping mere seconds ago. Emily stared at the snow globe sitting inside the freshly opened box. It was beautiful. The base of the snow globe was simply white but it was decorated in intricate gold designs. But what Emily was immediately drawn to was the dollhouse inside the globe. The house, in all its glory, was surrounded by snow covered trees. As Emily stared more she began to remember the story her parents told her. The story of their relationship.

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Taylor and Joe stood across from each other, foreheads touching. They were both in a trance as they stared into each others electric blue eyes. Each one knew they were thinking about the same thing. Thinking about how in love they both were with each other. How happy they were to be able to share this moment with one another. How excited they were that they were finally here. In their new home. Their  new home... Suddenly Joe broke the silence with a simple sentence that made Taylor love all the more when she didn’t think it was possible. 

“You know you light up my world Taylor.” Taylor just smiled in response. Oh how lucky she was to have found a man like this.

The Next Day

Taylor sat next to her drum set. Drumming a simple rhythm but one she had come to love. Behind her Joe put up a picture of their darling son/cat, Benjamin Button above their emerald green couch in their living room. Oh boy, thought Joe, I can’t wait to start a family with her. He than fell deep into his thoughts, imagining their little blue-eyed, blonde haired children running around the house (Emily smiled as she remembered the younger version of herself smiling when Joe told her this part of the story, after all Emily was practically that little blue-eyed, blonde haired child running around the house now). 

A Few Months Later

Taylor and Joe sat on the floor of their house playing monopoly. After Taylor one for what felt like the 1000th time to Joe she explained her strategy as Benjamin their grizzly bear of a cat walked by.

“So you see Joe, if you move this piece here at the right time you will undoubtedly win! Although of course, you could never be as good as me so consider yourself a.... young padawan.” Taylor smirked. 

Joe rolled his eyes and smiled playfully “Well this young padawan is about to destroy you in the next game of monopoly! I think it’s about time the padawan overthrows their master.” And so another game of monopoly started. And ended with Taylor on the floor dying of laughter after she beats Joe once again after he was so sure he would win. They both loved moments like these. Moments where it felt like the world was just made for them. Like they were made to be a couple. It was fate. Destiny. Kismet. Together they stood so tall  and strong that they could bend the world or turn it upside down at their will. Many more days like these passed by. Days playing tag inside the house and Taylor rolling on the floor in a ball when she knew that Joe was going to catch her as if doing so would make her invincible. Days building forts under covers because, honestly, why not? Days just dancing in the living room to their favorite song. Soon many more months had passed (“Time flies when you’re having fun” Emily remembered Taylor saying as she stared into Joes eyes and Joe stared right back. “Uh, Mom? Dad?” Emily had said, “You were telling a story?”) Taylor was starting to worry about their relationship. She knew that they were going to end because of the media. She knew that know would want to jump into her life. Taylor liked to think of her life as if she was swimming in a fishbowl. She could be viewed at all times from all sides. Any mistake could be seen. One night Taylor confessed her fears to Joe.

“Joe?” whispered Taylor as they were getting ready for bed. 

“Yeah?” Joe said, turning towards Taylor who was already lying down under the covers.

“Can we talk?”

“Sure Babe, what’s up?” Joe’s voice softened after he heard the shaky undertone in Taylor’s voice. Joe slowly walked over towards the bed.

“Do yo-, I don’t thi-, I-.” Taylor stumbled on her words. Joe lied down on the bed next to Taylor and pulled her closer so they were looking eye to eye. “I really want this to work out,” She continued. “But I don’t know if you understand the whole picture.” Joe tilted his head to the side and raised an eyebrow as if to say ‘Wanna bet?’. Taylor just shook her head and looked away.

Joe then smiled warmly at her and used his finger to gently lift her chin up. “I understand that you are a famous celebrity. I understand that you are worried we won’t work out. I understand that you have baggage. I understand that everyone has baggage and that no truly good person comes free. I understand that they will be watching. I understand that the media will twist my words. You know what else I understand?” Taylor was silent. “I understand that I love you with my whole heart. I understand that love means to accept the other persons baggage. So I, Joe Alwyn, accept you baggage Taylor Swift.” Taylor processed it for a moment before melting into Joes arms. From then on she knew that Joe had jumped into the fishbowl, and there was no way she was going to get him out.

“I love you Joe.”

“I love you too Taylor.” And he meant it. With his whole heart. 

A Few Days Later

Joe sat on the emerald green couch in their living room as he stared down lovingly at the woman he had the privilege of calling his. Taylor was leaning against Joe, a guitar in her arms, her legs up up on the couch. She was singing a song she wrote for him. The song was called Lover. Lover wasn’t quite finished yet, she had only done up to the first chorus. Joe smiled when he heard the lyric ‘There’s a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you dear. Have I know you 20 seconds or 20 years?’ Taylor looked up at Joe for his approval and he nodded and winked at her. Oh how he loved her. As the week commenced Taylor and Joe  played a few rounds of the board game Devils Roll The Dice, Angels Roll Their Eyes, (in which Taylor crushed Joe in, something Taylor will never let Joe forget) a game of scrabble which Joe won in, (which resulted in an outraged Taylor)  a few games of Breakable Heaven, and Taylor and Joe began planning their New Years celebration. Their New Years celebration in their house. The sentence felt so right to both of them.

“Ok so we need the Happy New Year banner right there,” said Taylor pointing above a window. Joe picked up the banner and was ready to staple it on the wall when Taylor suddenly said “Actually you know what I like it over there,” and pointed to right above the front door. Joe obliged and moved it to where she pleased. As he took out the stapler out once again Taylor changed her mind again “I changed my mind. I like it where it was the first time.” 

Joe sighed, moved the banner across the room to where it started out and whipped out the stapler, “This better be the last time you make me move it!” he said holding out the stapler at her, fake threatening her.  

“Well actually...” Taylor began.

Staple.

“Too late,” Joe smirked. 

That Night

“Hey! Hi! How are you? I haven’t seen you in a while! Welcome!” Taylor and Joe greeted their guests. 

“I can’t wait to have out New Years kiss together,” Joe whispered huskily in Taylors ear.

Taylor smiled and looked at him, putting her hand on his cheek she gave him a quick peck on the lips. “What is it now? Our third New Years kiss?”

“Yeah it’s our third. Not that I have been counting or anything..” Joe trailed off. Taylor giggled then left to say hi to Selena, who had just arrived. 

It was nearing midnight and Taylor was more than ready to share this special moment with Joe. She looked around the room, her eyes searching for the blonde haired man. She finally spotted him fully engaged in a conversation with who she recognized to be his old friend from Uni, Melissa. She went over to approach the two but stopped when she heard the conversation. 

“Can I come over next week? Taylor is in Nashville for some meetings so she won’t find out,” Joe whispered into Melissa’s ear, but loud enough for Taylor to hear. Taylor’s heart felt like it was run over by a bulldozer. 

“What?” Taylor muttered “This isn’t- This can’t- What?” Taylor walked a little closer to them, trying to look inconspicuous. 

Melissa looked up at Joe and smiled. “Perfect, we can continue our...” Melissa looked around to make sure no one was listening and Taylor averted her eyes away and pretended to be busy. “activities.” Melissa winked. Taylor was on the verge of tears. Now if Taylor knew what exactly they were talking about she would be overjoyed. If Taylor knew that Joe and some of their friends were planning on helping Joe propose to Taylor then she would be over the moon. If Taylor knew that Joe and Melissa’s ‘activities’ were making the ‘Newly Engaged’ sign then Taylor would be ecstatic. But Taylor didn’t know. Taylor wasn't overjoyed. Taylor wasn't over the moon. Taylor wasn't ecstatic. Quite frankly, she was heartbroken. Taylor just stood there, no longer trying to look busy, she was just lost in her thoughts. 

Joe finally noticed Taylor and walked over, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Ready for that New Years kiss babe?” Taylor nodded in response, she was glad Joe couldn’t see her tear stained eyes. 

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!” People shouted. Joe and Taylor’s lips meant and it was magical. Sparks flew. But Taylor was to busy thinking about Melissa’s and Joe’s interactions to notice. 

The Next Morning

Joe and Taylor had both woken up with horrible headaches. Taylor had woken up before Joe and was now sitting on the edge of the bed, head in her hands, trying to find a logical explanation to Joe and Melissa’s conversation but concluded that Joe was cheating on her. Joe was cheating on her. Taylor couldn’t believe it. I guess I just wasn’t good enough. After all I am pretty boring and-. Taylor’s thoughts were interrupted with the sound of Joe yawning. 

“Hey Babe.” Joe smiled as he recalled how magical last night was. Taylor didn’t respond. Joe looked up and saw Taylor sitting on the edge of the bed. “You ok?” He whispered in her ear. Just like how he whispered in Melissa’s ear. 

Taylor lost it. “No I’m not okay! What girlfriend would be okay when their boyfriend cheats on them? What girlfriend would be okay when their boyfriend flirts with another girl in that girlfriends own house? At that girlfriends own party?! No Girlfriend!” Taylor was practically screaming at him. “Not a Single. Fucking. One!” Her eyes were wet but she forced the tears not to fall in an attempt to look calm and put together, both of which she was definitely not. Joe was shocked and insulted. He had no idea what Taylor was talking about and it made him furious that he was being put in jail for something he didn’t do. 

“I did nothing of the sort! You can’t accuse me without any real evidence!” Joe’s voice was near shouting.

“My eyes saw it and my ears heard it! That’s evidence enough!” Taylor angrily yelled. 

“Maybe your eyes and ears heard and saw wrong! There is such a thing called a misunderstanding!” 

“I know what I saw!” 

“I know what I did!” 

Silence. Both avoided eye contact with one other. This lasted for several seconds before Taylor spoke softly, “You know there was once a time where I thought we were perfect for each other... I thought we were meant to be. Honestly I would’ve married you with paper rings.” Joe thought he was still angry but when he heard Taylor say ‘would’ve married him’ his heart broke into a million pieces and he remembered his plan to propose to Taylor. Taylor continued,  “But now? I feel like I’ve been betrayed in my own house. I mean I have been betrayed in my own house. I just-. I don’t know.” Suddenly Joe was back to angry.

“You should know. If you’re going to accuse me know what you’re going to accuse me of!” Joe’s voice was raised. 

“You know what?” Taylor retorted. “Fuck you! Fuck Melissa! Fuck it! Fuck all of it!”

“If that’s how it’s gon-” Joe paused. “Melissa?”

“What do you mean Melissa? I saw you whispering in her ear sexily! With your annoyingly sexy voice! And your annoyingly hot and fit body moved closer to her as I heard her say that you guys had to finish your ‘activities’! I know what those activities are!” Taylor couldn’t stop the tears from flowing down her face.

“You know what those activities actually are Taylor?” Joe hesitated. How was he gonna explain without giving away what he was really doing. Maybe lying this once might come in handy. “It was to help her attract who she fancies!” he yelled. It was a complete lie but he couldn’t tell her that. After all who knew if he even was going to propose to her anymore. The thought alone broke him but he couldn’t stop himself from thinking it. Taylor was silent. “I’m going downstairs,” Joe said. “Where I don’t have to listen to you accusing me for something that is completely crazy and for a matter of fact, quite stupid.” Joe got up left the room, heading downstairs to where the whole thing started. Taylor just sat there for a moment before picking up her guitar and quietly singing to herself. She tried to continue the song that she had sang to Joe earlier (Lover) but only managed to write one line that she was satisfied with, ‘I’m highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you.’ Then she broke down crying. Meanwhile Joe was in the living room where glitter was scattered on the floor and polaroids were everywhere. Joe walked over to the fireplace, defeated. Little did Joe know Taylor was watching him as she made her way down to the kitchen where she had her table top piano. She sat down at the dining table and began to play. Taylor started with a few lines ‘Put you in jail for something you didn’t do. I pinned your hands behind your back.’ then the word started pouring out. As she sang Taylor realized that the whole situation was mostly her fault and she shouldn’t have been so nosy. She walked up the spiral staircase and arrived at the ladder to the attic. Taylor climbed up, watching her step, being careful not to trip over anything. She turned on the projector then took a seat on a navy blue suitcase that was lying on the floor. Taylor watched as videos of her and Joe were projected on the sheet that they had hung up a few weeks ago. As Taylor watched the videos, Joe was coming to realize that he had overreacted and should have been more careful talking about his plans with Melissa, after all they were bound to be overheard. Joe knew he needed to apologize and he immediately knew where to find Taylor. As he walked up he thought about what to say, but in the end he decided to not say anything at all and let the actions do the talking. Joe climbed up the ladder and Taylor turned around to look at him. In silence, Joe took a seat next to Taylor. Taylor looked Joe in the eye looking for confirmation that they were okay. Joe smiled slightly and Taylor rested her head on his shoulder. 

“I love you,” they both said in unison, smiling when they heard the other. The next day they were back to normal, joking around with each other. 

That Night

“Why did the ketchup blush?” asked Joe as they were enjoying the spaghetti that Taylor had made. Taylor cocked her head in confusion. “Because she saw the salad dressing!” Taylor burst out laughing at the corniness of the joke. In that moment Taylor knew that they were okay. After dinner they sat back down on the couch that they had sat on just a few nights ago before the fight. They sat in the same position Taylor’s head on his chest, legs up on the couch. She was playing him the rest of ‘Lover’ which she had finished right after they reconciled in the attic. 

There days were filled many more fun times, there was glitter thrown, dances danced, birthday candles blown out and days just cuddling in bed. From then on she knew it was true love.

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Emily snapped out of her memories and ran over to the couch where her parents were sitting. 

“I love you guys,” Emily smiled.

“I love you more,” Taylor and Joe said in unison, laughing as they did. The family embraced each other and at that moment Taylor knew she was with her true Lover.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hi! This was long overdue I’m so sorry! I hope you enjoyed it though. Can you guys maybe send prompts to either @joeandtaylorfanfiction or me for more ideas? If I see any ideas tomorrow I’ll write it and hopefully have it out by next week. Keep on sending them in and I might have a fanfiction every other week or maybe every week! (That would be my dream but I hope I actually have enough brain power to write it, wish me luck) Anyway CONSTRUCTIVE criticism is welcome (support is also welcome :) ) I should stop talking now, bye!! 

@joeandtaylorfanfiction

3021 words

[99redballoonsfloatby]

Want

Summary: Based off this request from anonymous: I wish you would write a fic where the reader is not really expressing what she needs during sex so Bill makes her have a night all about her where he wont do anything unless she tells him...

Warnings: Smut, Game of Thrones

Words: Almost 2,000

Author’s Note: As always, thank you to @bradragskills​ for looking over this for me. Thank you to the wonderful anon who sent this idea in. I had a lot of fun challenging myself with this. I really, really hope it’s to your liking! 

“Darling?”

You glanced up at your boyfriend and smiled, letting him know you were listening.

“Did you enjoy that?” he murmured.

He ran a strong hand down your back and rolled you into his side. He loved to keep you close in the moments after you made love. It was almost like he just wasn’t ready for your tryst to end and he was trying to prolong it with all of his might. These moments were infrequent lately so you cuddled into him, and took a deep breath before answering him.

“I always enjoy it, Bill.”

Without looking up, you knew he was smiling.

“Did you come?” the words almost sounded vulgar after the romantic love making that had just happened.

You hesitated, not wanting him to take it personally. “Well, no…”

He shifted quickly so that he was face to face with you. His smile was gone and his eyes were faintly clouded over; a mixture of post-orgasm haze and confusion.

“But…the noises, and…” his voice trailed off and you touched his cheek.

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy it. I loved every single second of it.”

“Have I ever made you orgasm?”

You could tell this had shifted into a more serious conversation so you moved so that you were siting up in front of him.

“Of course you have, babe,” you answered as you wrapped a blanket around you.

He seemed satisfied with that answer but his mouth fell into a frown as he continued to process what you had just told him.

“I want you to enjoy sex as much as I do.”

A laugh escaped your lips and you gave him a sympathetic smile. “I love having sex with you.”

“Tell me what you like? What makes you get off?” He asked as he sat up across from you on the bed.

His shoulders were hunched forward; the small amount of stress was already weighing him down.

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks; this wasn’t something he had ever asked you before and this certainly wasn’t something you wanted to share.

“Babe, you and I have amazing sex. Can’t we just leave it at that?”

You knew before you finished asking the question that the answer would be no. Bill was never the type to back down from a challenge and his eyes lit up with excitement when he realized this was, in fact, a challenge.

“We can leave it at that,” he smirked. “For now…”

You couldn’t sleep that night, your belly wouldn’t settle down and the anxiety was bubbling up slowly as you racked your brain for a way to answer his question.

When you got home the next afternoon, you were expecting to have the apartment to yourself. Bill had a dinner meeting planned with his agent and you had brought home Chinese takeout and were looking forward to a date with your DVR. Bill didn’t like Game of Thrones, which you never understood, so you enjoyed these moments of alone time to indulge in your favorite show.

As you were unpacking your food, and enjoying the beautiful sight that was John Snow lying naked on a table, Bill walked into the living room.

After dropping a container of pork fried rice and spilling it all over the carpet, you fumbled for the remote to pause the show so you could shriek at Bill for scaring you.

He laughed loudly as you quickly turned your show off and glared at him. “You act like you were watching porn, baby.”

He was so good at making you blush. “It was not porn!”

“Is that what gets you off? Overacting and choppy writing?”

His misunderstood critique made you roll your eyes.

“You’re just jealous that you aren’t on that show,” you shot back as you bent down to start cleaning up the rice.

“Leave that there for now, I have a surprise for you.”

Bill took your hand and you followed him into your bedroom. He had candles lit and two glasses of wine on the end table. The light smell of jasmine filled the room and you smiled as you picked up a glass of wine.

“What is this all about?” a moment of panic rushed over you and you glanced at the calendar to make sure you didn’t miss an anniversary.

“You, my love, are going to finally open up to me,” he explained as he sipped his wine. “I’m prepared to get you drunk if I have to.”

That might be what it took for you finally admit how much you loved when Bill bit the inside of your thigh before burying his tongue inside of you. OR that you could barely handle it when he would finger you slowly, letting his thumb accidently brush against your clit and then leave you wanting more until you felt like one touch from his calloused thumb might push you so far over the edge that you wouldn’t come back.

You swallowed the sweet liquid and set your empty glass down on the table.

“Are you still on this?” you asked as you sit on the edge of the bed. “I already told you that I’m happy with our sex life.”

“It’s not enough,” he explained as he refilled your glass. “I want you to be hungry for it, crave it every second of the day.”

He sat on the bed next to you, his lips immediately attached to your neck. He trailed his tongue up to your earlobe and bit it gently, sending a frenzied fire through your stomach.

“Tell me what turns you on?” he whispered into your ear, his breath hot on your neck.

“That…that turns me on,” you answered and moved closer to his lips hoping he would do it again.

He pulled back, leaving nothing but a cold spot on your neck and a longing in between your legs. He started to undress and you watched as he slowly exposed every inch of his body to you. He knew how to tease you without even trying.

Your throat was dry when you tried to speak. “That turns me on too.”

He grabbed your glass of wine and handed it to you, obviously being able to hear how much you were struggling.

“What exactly turns you on about me undressing?” he teased as he knelt down in front of you and started rubbing your thighs.

His fingertips kept sneaking up under your skirt and you silently wished he would just keep going and pull your panties off. You weren’t about to tell him that though.

“The veins in your arms…” your voice trailed off as you turned your face towards the headboard.

His long finger touched the bottom of your chin and he gently forced you to look back at him.

“Keep going, darling…

This was completely new territory for you. You had never been with a man that was so attentive that he not only noticed when you didn’t orgasm, he wanted to find a way to fix it.

“When your jeans hang low on your hips,” you sipped your wine quickly, needing more courage.

He finger was running along the underside of your jaw, his face blooming with encouragement.

“When you crawl across the bed at me after you’ve finally taken your pants off.”

The words were flowing out of you and you were no longer second guessing anything you were saying. The wine had proved to be a strong ally tonight.

Bill moved to the end of the bed and nodded. You slid out of your skirt and top and laid back against the pillows in your bra and panties.

“What are you hoping I do when I finally get to you?” he asked as he slowly started to move across the bed, a lion on the prowl.

You legs were trembling as he got close to you, his eyes never darting away from yours.

“I love when you tease me with your fingertips,” you admitted. “Not just…there…but everywhere.”

He trailed his fingertips up your thighs again and you hoped it was enough of a hint for him to slide your panties off. You enjoyed when Bill undressed you more than you undressing yourself.

Tonight was not the night for subtly and you pouted as his fingers never even made it to the tops of your thighs.

“Slide my panties off, Bill.”

Your voice was no longer shaking and you had surprised yourself with how much dominance was coming out of you. There was a reason you and Bill made such a good pair and it was because you lack of dominance was met with his abundance of it.

His eyes snapped up to yours and he nodded and his fingers finally made it to your panties. They came off your legs quickly and Bill moved to touch you but he stopped himself.

“What should I do now?” he asked, his eyes met yours again and his pupils were completely blown with lust.

“Touch me,” your command was simple but forceful.

It wasn’t enough for Bill. “How?”

His smirk told you that he was enjoying this little game. He held his hand up and you took it, placing the pad of his middle finger on your clit.

“Like that,” you mumbled.

He didn’t move his finger, he just sat there with it on your clit and smiled at you.

You rolled your eyes, understanding his silent request and started moving his finger in slow circles, pressing down on his hand so he would press hard on your most sensitive area as he continue his movements.

Once he continued on with the pattern you showed him, you dropped your hand and allowed him to continue on his own. Thankfully, he didn’t need you to keep moving his hand for him.

“Is this going to make you come for me?”

For him that was the only time you ever came. Even if you were alone, your hands where were his are now, you were still coming for him. He had completely control over your body and that was exactly how you wanted it to be.

“Yes, but…” your voice trailed off as he hit the right spot and your body jumped, your back arching.

“But…what?” he asked with a devilish smile on his perfect face. You couldn’t take it anymore and you knew this was the exact place that Bill wanted you to be in.

“Put your finger inside me,” you grumbled, annoyed that he was making you beg for it. “Your middle one, it’s the longest.”

He slid that delectably long finger into you and your moaned louder than you normally do.

“Rub my clit with your thumb?” you asked, needing that sensation back.

You were almost embarrassed to admit how close you were and you had only just started this precarious game.

He followed instructions well and soon his finger was moving in and out of you while his thumb circled your sensitive clit. You rubbed his arm, feeling the muscles move as he continued to work you over.

Within moments, he had you spilling out expletives and thrashing on the bed as your orgasm took over. Your body uncoiled right in front of him, and you lay lifeless as he chuckled and moved his hand away from you.

“Thank God that worked,” he said as he took a sip of wine.

“Hmm?” you mused as you opened your eyes to look at him. “What do you mean?”

“Plan B was to dress up like John Snow to get you to come.”

[boomboomboomwayhoo]

perfect ~ corbyn besson ~christmas 2017

a/n: super duper inspired/based off of by the perfect music video by ed sheeran

it was a tradition starting about six years back that every december y/n and her best friends (corbyn, gabe, alex, and chris) would all meet up on the best possible mountain for skiing in the whole state. as always, y/n was the first to arrive. 

while she were waiting for her four friends, she decided to order a hot chocolate. as soon as the girl returned to the seat she was in previously with the hot cocoa in hand, corbyn walked in, the bell above the door jingling as he did so. perfect timing. 

“hey, corbs!” y/n exclaimed in her cheery voice that always put a huge smile on corbyn’s face, not worrying about having to be quiet since they were the only two people in the lodge at the time besides the man working there and the woman who was walking out the door towards the slopes. 

“hi y/n,” the blonde chuckled, wrapping his lengthy arms around her frame in the tightest hug that he possibly could. 

“good god, you’re freezing!” y/n took his hands in hers to warm them up a bit. “here, take this,” she told him, holding out the hot drink that she had only had a few sips of. 

“no i’m fine, you can have it,” corbyn politely declined although he really did need it. he was practically an ice berg. not only that but he couldn’t go order his own drink since the cashier had just disappeared to the back of the lodge. 

“please,” y/n begged, pushing the drink into his welcoming hands. 

“thank yo-” he mumbled, raising the mug to his lips as the door bells sounded once again. y/n’s head shot towards the door and she sprinted towards it as soon as she saw who it was. just as corbyn had suspected, it was gabe, alex, and chris. 

“i missed you guys!” y/n smiled after she had given them each an incredibly long hug. corbyn rose from his seat to give all of his friends a welcoming as well. he didn’t want to come off as rude to the people that he easily referred to as his very best friends. 

corbyn bro hugged each of the guys before y/n mentioned that they should probably get to skiing since it would be getting dark in just a few hours. everyone agreed, grabbing their skis and following y/n out the door that they had all walked out together for the past six years.

as the group was treading to the top of the mountain to begin the journey downhill, y/n was conversing and laughing about something hilarious that must have been said with alex. behind them was gabe and chris who were having their own conversation about justin and selena’s relationship. and finally, behind them all was corbyn. corbyn was walking all by himself as he usually did in these sort of group outings. with this group of friends in particular, he always ended up being the third wheel no matter how hard he tried. 

he looked with sad eyes towards y/n and alex. corbyn had always been incredibly jealous of alex, as well as chris and gabe. the three guys were so much more muscular than corbyn and they somehow all remained tan all year round. these were two physical traits that corbyn couldn’t compete with as well as two traits that made corbyn feel incredibly insecure. corbyn always thought that y/n thought of him as incomparable to those three, even though that was the farthest from the truth. 

corbyn continued to sulk as he climbed the mountain behind his friends. finally, they reached the very peak, where the fun would finally begin for corbyn. 

“you ready?” y/n asked, standing next to corbyn who was finishing up strapping on his skis. the other friends has already began to ski down the slope. 

“yup, you?” he replied, standing up and positioning himself to get going down the mountain. y/n nodded. 

“together?” she asked, holding out her hand for corbyn to take. now it was his turn to nod. he laced his fingers with hers as they began to slide down the mountain smoothly. corbyn’s hands were sweating from nerves but thank god he was wearing thick gloves. that way y/n couldn’t feel it. 

“uh oh,” y/n mumbled after a solid five minutes of smooth and steady skiing. 

“uh oh, what?” corbyn asked worriedly. 

“i’m going down!” y/n called out dramatically as she let go of corbyn’s hand and fell on her back, continuing to slide until she reached a flat spot where she slid to a stop. corbyn stopped at the flat place as well. 

“are you okay?” corbyn asked, getting down on the ground next to the girl that was yet to know that he fell for her. the only sound that filled his ears was her uncontrollable laughter, making his heart flutter. she nodded, unable to catch her breath. he just shook his head as he rose to his feet, pulling her up as well. 

before they knew it, all five of the friends were at the very bottom of the mountain and it was nearly pitch black outside. thankfully they weren’t the only ones out there. the group of nineteen year olds made their way to the ski lift, each of them climbing into one of the cart type things. corbyn was seated with y/n, chris with alex, and gabe all alone in the very back. 

“you tired?” corbyn asked y/n in a whisper in response to her resting her head on his shoulder. 

“a little bit,” she replied, leaning further into his warm and comforting touch. 

“close your eyes, you got about five minutes until we get back to the top,” corbyn told the girl, moving his left arm to wrap around her shoulders, pulling her towards him even more in an attempt to warm them both up. at least that’s what y/n thought. in corbyn’s mind, it was because he wanted to make as much contact with the gorgeous girl as possible. 

“y/n” corbyn nudged the sleeping girl slightly, waking her from her dozed off state. “c’mere.” he held his arms open to her as he was already on the ground and could easily help her down, which he did. 

after this, the friends all gathered by a fire pit just outside of the lodge that they had began in, warming themselves up by the fire. y/n continued to cling to corbyn’s comforting touch as the rest of the guys sat opposite of the two. everyone continued to talk about absolute nonsense before y/n accidentally let a fairly loud yawn escape. 

“and that’s our cue,” gave said, standing up from the log he was sitting on, followed by the two others. 

“goodnight!” the three of them called out as they headed towards the car that they all drove in together after sharing their hugs and goodbyes with corbyn and y/n. 

“what time is it?” y/n asked, running her hand through her hair. 

“a little past midnight,” corbyn replied quickly after glancing at his phone. “we can stay at my grandparents cabin that’s about a mile from here for the night,” corbyn offered as soon as he noticed the look on the girl’s face at the idea of driving home this late while being this tired. 

“can we?” y/n asked, corbyn nodded and stood up once again, leading y/n along with him by the hand. 

fifteen minutes later and the two arrived in the cabin. you greeted corbyn’s grandparents who lived in the loft portion of the cabin all year round. they rented out the bottom part so that they could earn a little cash. 

“thank god you brought extra clothes,” y/n sighed as she curled up in the soft sweatshirt that corbyn had brought along with him. the boy only nodded. the best friends sat in silence, corbyn only studying the sounds of y/n’s steady breathing and y/n listening to corbyn’s rapid heartbeat as her head was rested on his chest. 

“i, uh-” corbyn interrupted the silence. “i wrote you a song,” he finished. “i don’t know if you want to here it but um-”

“of course i want to hear it!” y/n practically screamed, suddenly seaming a lot more awake than she was just a few minutes prior. “you know that your voice is my favorite thing to listen to.” corbyn blushed softly at the compliment before clearing his throat a bit and beginning to sing a cappella to the song that he had written for you. 

“baby, I'm dancing in the dark with you between my arms barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song when you said you looked a mess, I whispered underneath my breath but you heard it, darling, you look perfect tonight”

corbyn sang beautifully. you teared up a bit but refused to show it as the realization hit you that he was trying to confess his love for you the only way he knew how to; through song. 

“i don’t deserve this, you look perfect tonight,”

he finished off. 

“that was... wow,” you smiled widely. 

“i’m sorry i know that was probably kinda weird for y-” he profusely apologized. 

“why would it be weird for me if i feel the exact same way?” y/n cut him off, a large smile growing on corbyn’s face to match y/n’s. corbyn stood up from the bed abruptly, pulling you along with him back out into the freezing night air, leaving the door back to the cabin slightly cracked open to allow some light to fall on the two. 

“what are we doing?” you giggled. corbyn smirked before stretching out his arm while still holding onto your hand. you got the hint and began to slow dance with him in dark, in the snow, on top of the very same mountain that you had been coming to with him for years. 

by the end of the slow dancing session, corbyn’s arms were wrapped tightly around you and yours around him, your faces mere inches apart. 

“can i kiss you?” he whispered. you chuckled softly and nodded as he connected your lips with his. your lips moved together rhythmically and you never wanted it to end. however, it was interrupted when corbyn’s grandparents’ cat brushed against your legs, causing you to pull away from corbyn and rest your forehead against his, a giggle escaping your lips. 

“hi nala, baby,” you smiled, parting from corbyn and leaning down to pick up the little cat that you had known since his grandparents first adopted her. 

“god, you’re fucking stunning,” corbyn mumbled under his breath as he turned to walk back into the cabin, you blushing rapidly while walking inside behind him with the cat in your arms. 

a/n: im so sorry this is so bad i literally never write corbyn i am basically unable to write good corbyn stuff so yeah sorry pals

[buttercream-imagines]

12 Days of Imagines || Byron

all masterposts found here

pairing - Byron x reader word count - 1,278 warnings - none A/N -

summary - The one based off of I’ll Be Home for Christmas

--

It was Christmas Eve and you were on the couch, sipping a cup of hot cocoa, and reading the letter from Byron for the hundredth time. Your boyfriend of a year was still in London while you were back home in South Africa. Long distance was hard, but the two of you were pushing through. You hated spending time away from him, but you knew you couldn’t leave school and move to London. Byron always assured you that he would find a place for just the two of you as soon as you were ready to move. The two of you were stronger than the distance. Although you had only been dating for a year, you practically grew up with each other. For years, he was your best friend. It was practically written in the stars for you to be together. So yes, the distance was hard, but you knew you were strong enough to get past your time apart. And for now, you had the letter with his messy handwriting scrawled across the page to keep you company.

Sure, you had phones and laptops for texting and calling and Skyping, but there was something the two of you both loved about writing letters. Your day to day conversations still occurred over text, but you wrote each other letters weekly while you were apart.

(Y/N),

I hope you’re doing wonderful, love. Christmas is only 10 days away as I’m writing this to you, which means I should see you very soon. I’m so excited to see you. I’ve been planning our first day together in my head for weeks now, and I can tell you there will never be a dull moment. We’ll cuddle while watching all of your favorite Christmas movies and catch up on all the alone time we’ve been missing for so long. I’m so excited to hold you again.

I promise I’ll be home for Christmas, you can count on it. It’s been hard to get a flight out of here but I swear to you I’ll do it. Even if I have to take a boat or a train or hitch hike my way around the world, I’ll do it. I know you can’t have snow, but I expect mistletoe hanging above the door frame and presents around the tree as soon as I walk in the doors. Not to be overly sappy, but the only real present I need is you.

I know it’s been hard. I’m sorry. Sometimes I wish I had never moved to London at all because I just miss you so fucking much. It’s like I’ve been dreaming about being home for so long, I can’t believe it’s actually going to happen. It’s actually going to happen.

I love you so much, darling. See you soon,

Byron

You sniffed and wiped away a tear as you put the paper down and stared back at the fire. It was 11:48 at night on Christmas Eve. Despite Byron’s best efforts, he couldn’t get a flight out to make it on Christmas. He would be flying in on December 27, just two days late. Sure, you were excited to see him, but you were so hoping you’d get to spend Christmas with him.

You felt a nudge on your leg and snapped out of your trance to see your fluffy white dog, Snowball, rubbing his face against your leg. He could tell you were sad. You gave him a short laugh and wiped another tear from your eye. “It’s okay, buddy,” you said to him. “I just miss Byron, that’s all.” Snowball gave out a quiet bark of agreement and you smiled softly and pet his head. “At least I have you.”

Snowball’s head perked up as his eyes went to the window. You had seen headlights go by and assumed Snowball had too. He immediately bolted up and ran to the window, barking his little ass off. “Snowball, hush!” you scolded. “It’s just the neighbors. You know they always have parties late at night. It’s all uni kids here.” Your dog ignored you, barking and jumping at the window, trying to see outside. “Here boy, look,” you said, walking over to the door. “I’ll even show you. There’s no one out there. It’s just-”

You opened the door wide and came face to face with Byron. Snowball’s barking continued in the background as you covered your mouth with your hand. “Merry Christmas,” Byron said with a smile. He dropped his bags just in time for you to leap into his arms. You were crying, your face buried in his neck. You ran your fingers through his hair and let out a quiet sniff.

“You got a haircut,” you mumbled. Byron laughed and held you tighter.

“God I missed you so much,” he said to you.

“I missed you too.”

Byron let go of you and you stepped aside so he could walk into your house. Snowball -who hadn’t stopped barking the whole time- jumped on Byron, pawing at his shins with excitement. “Good to see you too, Snow,” Byron said, crouching down to pet your dog. You watched them as you continued to wipe tears from your eyes. Byron looked up at you and gave you another adoring smile. “I missed you,” he said again. You took a step closer to him and looked up at the mistletoe hanging on the door frame. Byron smiled, taking the hint, and held your face in his hands as he kissed you firmly.

The kiss was so long overdue. You almost forgot what his lips tasted like, how soft his hair felt between your fingers, and how secure you felt when his hands gripped your waist. When you finally pulled away from him, he rested his forehead against yours. “I love you, so much,” he said gently, rubbing the pad of his thumb on your cheek.

“I love you too,” you whispered back.

Once Byron brought his things up to your bedroom, he came back into the living room and sat beside you on the couch. He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you onto his lap. You felt his lips press against your neck and you smiled and tangled your fingers in his hair again. “Wait a minute,” you said, pulling yourself away from him for a moment. “You lied to me.” Byron’s face fell.

“What?”

“You told me you wouldn’t get back into town until the 27th. You lied.”

“Well, yeah, it was just, I was trying to surprise you. I’m sorry-”

“Byron,” you giggled, putting your hands on his cheeks, “I’m joking. I’m joking.”

“You’re the worst,” Byron laughed. He attempted to push you off his lap but you held on, refusing to let him win. When he started tickling your sides, you started laughing so hard you almost fell off the couch.

“Stop!” you laughed. “Quit it Byron, I’m not joking!”

Byron laughed and pulled you back onto his lap. You straddled him and tangled your fingers in his hair again. You couldn’t get enough of his hair. Correction, you couldn’t get enough of him. You kept one hand on the back of his head, playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck, while the other one traced down his cheek and across his lips. His smile dropped a bit as he watched you carefully. He grabbed your hand gently and intertwined your fingers with his. “I love you,” he said again. “So much, (Y/N).”

“You’ve said that already,” you teased lightly. Before Byron could respond, you placed your lips softly on his again. As you pulled away, you smiled and whispered, “I love you too.”

[blockzone06-blog]

Carrot Habanero Hot Sauce

I have a piece in the new issue of Darling Magazine this month. I was asked to write a rosy-cheeked take on family dinners––their evolution from youth to adulthood, tradition, nostalgia, how the act of gathering around a table “transcends the act of dining as a means to an end.” I was feeling OK but not awesome about my rough draft when I submitted it in December, then: Christmas. We hosted my family at our new place. It snowed. I planned a few elaborate meals because, you know, food is love, and on the second night, before anyone took their second bite of potato tarragon galette, my brother and I were in a shouting match over my request that he not text at the dinner table. He got defensive. I called him an asshole. He got up and left. My mom cried, dad got quiet. Shaun tried to mediate.

It was ugly. But, it was real. More often than not, the meals we get to share with family and friends do not take on the convivial, alluring nature we see promoted across blogs and boutique media. It’s easy to set a beautifully-styled farm table and encourage meaningful, open-hearted dialogue and then CONVENIENTLY disregard that meaningful, open-hearted dialogue is, by nature of our human-ness, a fucking mess most of the time. The mess doesn’t sell.

There is nothing precious about our dinner table. It is, and has been, a mighty kickstand for the hardest and heartiest conversations in our lives. Sure, we’ve made many memorable, effortless, joy-filled moments around our table over the years, like that one night we stayed up late on a weeknight braiding challah and eating boozy french toast with a friend who kicked her dude to the curb. The time Cody and Emily stopped over before Corbyn and Caroline’s wedding with the kids and Shaun poured a bowl of tomato soup for Ev’s “Mr. Shark,” which he proceeded to splash all over his clean pajamas and Mr. Shark. And yet, for every uncomplicated and tender occasion we’ve experienced at the table with loved ones, there have been at least a dozen gritty, soul-obliterating instances that preceded it. Like New Years Eve of 2012 when Shaun and I ate buttered toast before The Lumineers show at the Ogden, contemplating if we’d even do 2013 together as a couple, or the night before our wedding that we ate bad pizza together on the floor, holding each other, laughing, crying, wishing we would have just eloped like we’d wanted all along.

Here’s my addendum to the story that was actually published: family dinner is where we do the work. And when I say family I mean our biological families, friend families or otherwise. And when I say table,  I mean the couch or the barstools or the floor or the porch or the car. Wherever we eat, wherever we are forced to stop and reckon with the day or our lives or our relationships with one another in the presence of food: we go to work. We take something that is hard and make it easy, or take something that is easy and royally overcomplicate it. We wrestle, together, with what Anne Lamott calls “the three most terrible truths of our existence: that we are so ruined, and so loved, and in charge of so little.” It’s the angst and heat and sticky stuff that comes with the work that builds real, long-lasting commitment and goodness in our lives. We need to get better at celebrating THAT.

          I struck my match, she poured out her gasoline.

We burn now. All the time. ― Tarryn Fisher

  Carrot Habanero Hot Sauce (aka Honeymoon Heat) (aka SUPER SPICY)

Adapted from my friends Corbyn and Caroline who discovered a love of carrot based hot sauces while honeymooning in Belize last year. This recipe makes about 6 quarts of hot sauce. Yes! You read that right 6 qts. I felt like there was really no sense in making a small batch when so many friends go through sriracha so quickly. You can easily halve, quarter, or further divide the recipe to make a smaller portion with the same result. 

15 garlic cloves, unpeeled

2 cups peeled, chopped carrot

4 medium sweet yellow onions, chopped

30 medium habanero chiles, stemmed

3 cups white vinegar

¼ cup salt

¼ cup sugar

Juice of 6-8 limes

_____

Roast the garlic in a skillet over medium heat, turning regularly until soft and blackened in spots, 10 to 15 minutes.

In the same pot, combine the carrot, onion and habanero chiles with the vinegar, 3 cups water, salt and sugar. Partially cover and simmer over medium-low heat until the carrots are thoroughly tender, about 20 minutes. Blend until smooth. Thin with a lime juice and more water if the sauce seems too thick. Taste and add salt as preferred. Store in glass jars in the fridge.

Source: http://happyolks.com/carrot-habanero-hot-sauce/