#finally gettin the winter shorts up ; >

[ask-n]

Winter Daze! What's N and family been up to all winter long?

Shorts 1+2 of 4

[fooled-around-and-fell]

Pretty Like This

summary: you found a dress in a cabin during patrol and brought it back home. joel doesn't know why you're suddenly acting odd around him, then he sees you wearing the dress.. and fuck you look beautiful.

pairing: joel miller x female reader

warning: smut - i know, finally. minors dni. cursing. fingering. oral - f receiving. apocalyptic breakdown. just a lot of thoughts with the world 'ending'. soft!dom joel. talks about death. angst. slightly fluffy.

a/n: i really like how this one turned out, guys. i haven't been able to really connect with my fics before, but this one... this one hits me. i hope you guys like it too.

masterlist

------

is it weird? maybe a little bit, but people loot all the time, right? especially with the outbreak and the need to survive, how can you not loot an empty cabin?

your guilty thoughts are interrupted when joel catches up to you on his horse, eyeing you slowly.

"you alright?"

"'m good." you press your lips to a thin line, clutching your backpack - where you had shoved the dress into.

joel says nothing more and just stares at you quietly. he knows you're not gonna say anything even if he pushes your buttons, so he'll just have to wait until you're ready to talk.

once you've returned the horses to the stables, you immediately walk back home. maybe a bit too hurriedly because joel had to grab your hand and stop you for a second, he looks incredibly worried.

"you…" he pauses and then clears his throat. "you're not gettin' anything to eat?"

you shake your head, "not that hungry."

he nods and lets go of your arm. "alright. i'll see you at home."

you nod back at him and start leaving. you're actually pretty hungry, but you want to increase your chances of fitting into the dress, so no dinner it is.

once you arrive back at your house, you wash the dress and put it in the dryer, all the while showering to freshen up--

it's ridiculous, isn't it?

there's a cordyceps outbreak happening right now, everyone's worried about the coming winter, food supply, clean water, the infected-- and all you can think of right now is fitting into a dress that has zero monetary value.

it's a dress.

it's eggshell white in color, with lace decorating it, with a corset-like bust that shapes your breasts in a heavenly way. it's short and also has a slit going up one of your thighs.

it's a fucking dress that makes you feel absolutely beautiful.. yet what does it mean in this world? does it even have any meaning?

you're looking at yourself in the mirror right now, wearing the dress after contemplating for about 20 minutes, and now you're doubting everything again despite also loving how you look at the same time.

what was the point in taking this dress? it's useless. it's not worth anything. it's a waste of space.

it's a distraction. from all that's happening in the world. it's a reminder how good things used to be, and how it can never be as good again.

you feel ridiculous.

because how dare you feel beautiful at a time like this?

how dare you be happy in a world bound to die?

you sigh and reach for the zipper to take the dress off. just as you were about to, there's a rustle behind you and you see joel looking at you with adoration.

and it makes you feel all the more guilty.

"you look…"

"don't say it." you manage to say. your hands grip the sides of the dress while you try your best not to cry.

joel frowns and gets closer to you despite your protests. "you look beautiful." he whispers, gently placing his arm around your waist.

you close your eyes and cover your face with your hands. the tears are streaming down your face, and joel can only hush you with his kisses.

"you wanna tell me what's going on?" he asks softly, "why's my princess crying when she looks this pretty?"

you uncover your face and a little laugh escapes you. "isn't it funny? isn't it ridiculous?"

joel frowns a little.

"i was so worried i wouldn't be able to fit into this dress, or that this dress wouldn't look good on me. and now that it fits, i have nowhere to wear it to." you sniffle. "who worries about stuff like that when the world is fucking ending?"

you let out another laugh. "it's so fucking shallow but i'm crying anyway -- isn't it funny that i'm more worried about a fucking dress instead of whether i'd be dead or alive tomorrow??"

you're spiraling. joel is seeing it happen right in front of him and it's breaking his heart. it's not the first time it's happened, but usually, it's never this bad.

he understands how you feel. sometimes it feels like no one's allowed to enjoy the good things anymore simply because you might die at any moment. part of your brain is just telling you to survive, survive, survive, while the other part is telling you to just be fucking happy while you have the chance.

joel places you on the bed. sometimes, the world feels too big and too out of your control, and joel's arms hold you close and tight, helping you make the world a little smaller - because right now it's just you and joel.

-----

when you've calmed down, joel's still holding you close. you're still in the dress, and though you're no longer hysterical about wearing or owning it, it still makes you feel nauseous. so you peel yourself away from joel to take it off, the disgust obvious on your face.

joel stops you, as if knowing how you feel. he doesn't say anything, he doesn't really need to, he just takes your chin and presses his lips onto yours. you don't protest, joel knows how to make you feel better almost every single time, and right now his lips feels heavenly.

he feels the fabric of the dress and his hand stops at your breast, squeezing gently. you let out a breath against his lips and joel only captures your mouth once more, not letting you slip away.

the hem of your dress is now up to your waist, exposing your bare torso to joel, who's teasing your mound with his palm. the warmth of his hand, the roughness of his skin against your clit -- you rock your hips gently against his palm, and he has to push your hips down to stop you from doing too much.

patience.

his voice rings in your head.

joel chuckles when he sees his hand is now covered in your wetness, and you bite your lip, guiding his hand- fingers, this time, to your entrance.

"please."

joel hums, prodding his fingers ever so slightly into your cunt, but decides to step away and settles his head between your legs instead.

he starts slow, giving kitten licks to your entrance and a few kisses on your clit, but when he sees your flushed face and your eyes literally begging him for something more, he decides to play nicer.

joel's fingers pushes deep into you while his tongue swirls around your clit, sucking gently while his fingers curl up to reach the spongy spot. joel never misses. he knows your body too well.

"joel..." you warn. your breaths are getting faster, your eyes hazy, you're about to cum and joel's watching you. he has his eyes on you when the knot in your lower abdomen finally snaps and you feel yourself releasing your juices onto his face.

"that's it," he coos, "that's my girl."

-----

joel's never been that good with words. he doesn't exactly know how to comfort you just by saying everything will be okay because he doesn't know if it will be.

so instead, what he does is; he takes the dress you'd intended to turn into a few napkins, washes it, lets it dry, hangs it nicely on your dresser door with a note: "should wear this more often."

yes, the world might end today, tomorrow, or the next day. and it might be silly to dress up or play house with joel knowing that everyone's doomed, but if believing that everything will work out fine means that you get to spend one more day with joel, then that's enough for you.

[quillquiver]

Happy 2nd anniversary to those two old guys from supernatural [[ao3]]

Their room is a mess.

It’s not their fault; though they’re largely retired, Claire and Kaia needed backup on a nearby mystery monster situation. So Cas’d cracked open the books and Dean had packed a duffle and when they’d stopped hearing from the kids, they’d gone in after them. ’Course, by the time they’d gotten back they’d pretty much just shed their viscera-covered clothing and dropped into bed.

Bright winter sun streams in through the window, causing Dean to groan and Cas to burrow further into his pillow. The duffle has been thrown at the closet door, the thing busted open and swollen with weaponry. Cas’s angel blade thigh holster hangs off the bottom-right bed post and Dean’s gun sits atop the dresser. The room smells like sewage and monster guts, which isn’t exactly ideal for a second wedding anniversary, but Dean figures they’ve done worse; last year, Jack had been so sick they’d spent the day trying to stop his puking. 

But Jack is with Sam and Eileen today, and after a shower and a change of sheets, Operation: Oops We Did It Again can finally commence. Starting, hopefully, with a vat of coffee and Dean getting fucked silly as many times as they can swing it. 

“Cas,” he whines, eyes closed. He shakes his shoulder. “Coffee.”

“You do it,” Cas says.

“Did it last time.”

Cas slaps at Dean’s hands. “M’gonna burn it.”

“S’automatic, you loser.”

“Can’t.” He rolls over. Tucking his face into the juncture of Dean’s neck, Cas applies half-asleep kisses everywhere he can reach, mumbling nonsense about how good and strong Dean is, how he’s the best provider and so manly and wouldn’t he prefer to make the coffee?

Dean stumbles out of bed grumbling.

Cas smiles. “I love you,” he murmurs, eyes still closed. 

Yeah, Dean bets he does.

By the time he comes back with two mugs and his present under his arm, Cas has moved from his side of the bed to Dean’s, his head face-down in Dean’s pillow. Dean still has no idea how he manages to breathe like that. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty. C’mon.”

Cas groans.

“Cas, seriously. There’s shit all over the room, I need you to grab this.”

He rises from the bed like a zombie from the grave, sitting up and offering his hands. As soon as the mug is cupped between his palms he sighs. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“I love you.”

“I know.”

“Kiss.”

Dean grins. Pecks his mouth. “We’re so nasty,” he says. “Feel like I need to go through a human car wash.”

“Mm.” His blue eyes are only barely open. “Made it though.”

“Yeah by the skin of our teeth.” Dean frowns at his mug. “Gettin’ old.”

“For fighting, maybe. For everything else...” Cas shrugs. Smiles. “I think you deserve a real retirement.”

Dean purses his lips. They haven’t really talked about going whole hog on their apple pie life yet, and it’s not something he really wants to think about; if his family’s in trouble, he’s just supposed to sit around with his thumb up his ass? He’d never leave Jack, how could he leave Claire and Kaia?

“We don’t have to decide right now,” Cas says, clearly more awake. He shrugs. ��It might be something to think about. I don’t like it, but Sam and Eileen’s network has been doing great things. And I think we scared Claire.”

“Yeah,” Dean chews his lip, distracted. “Maybe.”

“...Is that for me?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah.” Smiling, again, Dean takes the badly-wrapped package from under his arm and offers it. “It’s, uh, nothin’, y’know. Just... yeah. Happy anniversary.”

Cas kisses him, soft and sweet. “What is it?”

“You have to open it, you dork.”

“Alright, well...” Cas stretches and reaches under the bed, bringing up a present of his own. “Happy anniversary to you, too.”

Dean grins. “Open mine first.”

Cas’s gift is a riotously coloured cotton sweatshirt and short set. The thing looks like it’s been pulled right out of the 90s, soft and bright and Cas smiles so big his gums show. “I’m going to wear it once I’ve showered.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” He leans in for another kiss, grinning when Dean chases as he pulls away. “Open yours.”

Dean shakes his head, moving to press soft, wet kisses across Cas’s top lip. “Wanna make it last.”

Cas gives as good as he gets, shuffling until he’s practically in Dean’s lap. Their empty mugs have gotten lost in the dirty sheets somewhere, hands holding and squeezing and grabbing as the kiss deepens to something sexy and slow. Cas has this way this way of kissing that makes it feel like the main event. “Trust me,” he breathes. “We’re going to want what’s in there for the next part.”

“The shower?” Dean teases, leaning in again.

Cas nips his bottom lip. “The sex.”

Dean tears into the wrapping paper. 

“Oh hell yeah.”

Sheets. 

“Egyptian cotton,” Cas grins. “500 thread count.”

“Mm, talk dirty to me.”

“Single-ply,” he says lowly. “Hand-dyed.”

“Oh baby.”

They beam at each other. 

“Thanks, man,” Dean says. “I love ’em.”

“That’s only part of your gift,” he explains matter-of-factly. “I also plan to fuck you on those sheets. And to have pizza delivered later.”

“Hot.”

They make-out for longer than they probably should given how gross they are, until Cas is trying to hump him like some over-eager teenager and Dean is rapidly forgetting why they shouldn’t just add to the mess (the answer: that would be disgusting). “Sweetheart, we gotta—we should—”

“What if we just, ah, like this. Then later—”

Dean shakes his head. “Want it to last. I want—”

“I can do that. I can—fuck—”

“Cas, if you come without fucking me I’m gonna be pissed.”

Cas wrenches away, frustrated. “Then just let me—”

“Woah,” Dean interrupts. “What’s the rush? Sweetheart, hey. Castiel.” But Cas refuses to meet his eyes. Dean cups his face. Cas grips his wrists. “Talk to me.”

“I love you,” he blurts out.

Dean frowns. “Yeah, I love you, too.”

“I love you so much,” Cas says, like it’s a confession. Like it’s being ripped out of him. “I’m here. We’re married. We almost died. And I just—Dean, I don’t know—There’s something wrong with me, I—”

Dean’s eyes soften. “Nah, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“Sorry,” Cas croaks, squeezing his eyes shut as if to stop himself from crying. “I want you. I-I want—So I don’t understand why I’m—I was fine. I’m fine.”

“Yeah,” Dean agrees. “You are.” His dirty fingers thumb away tear tracks from the apple of Cas’s cheek. “Look, sometimes... we think we’re fine but we’re overwhelmed, y’know? S’okay.”

“I wanted to take care of you today.”

“Who says the day’s over?” Dean asks. “We’re gonna go take a nice long shower and I’m gonna wash your hair, and then I’m gonna go order like 40 pizzas and choose a movie, ’cause you owe me for coffee this morning. Then we’ll shove everything in the wash, and change the sheets, and you’re gonna fuck me so good I’ll feel it for the rest of the week.” Cas huffs a laugh. Dean smiles. “Darlin’,” he murmurs. “We’ll talk about hunting.”

Cas bites his lip. “I don’t want to die,” he breathes. “I only just got you back.”

The smallness of his voice hangs in the air between them. Dean feels something in him break. “...Yeah,” he swallows thickly. “I know.”

“But I don’t want to leave Claire if she needs help,” Cas argues with himself. “And you love hunting, I don’t want—”

“Alright well, first of all I don’t love hunting.”

“You know what I mean.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Dean promises. “We always do.” They’re quiet as he rubs at the cut of Cas’s jaw, a smile teasing at the corner of his mouth. “Not to change the subject or anything,” he eventually says. “But that was some serious real adult shit right there.” Cas rolls his red-rimmed eyes. Dean puffs out his chest. “C’mon, you gonna tell me I didn’t just make that conversation my bitch? I win at relationships, man.”

Despite the smile creeping across his face, Cas shakes his head. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“Whatever, I’m totally winning.”

Cas squints. “You routinely put things away without asking where they go. And then you forget about them, like a squirrel.”

“Please, you leave your shit all over the place. What am I supposed to do? Just walk right on by?”

“Yes! You...” Cas trails off, eyeing Dean’s shit-eating grin with a grimace. “Fine. Yes. Thank you. You’re very good at relationships.”

“Some would even say...” Dean prompts.

“They’d be wrong,” Cas says simply. “If the sample size is the rest of our lives, there’s no way to tell you’ve won yet.” A shrug. “And as we aren’t even through the whole day today, the jury still seems to be out on that, too. Sorry.” He doesn’t sound sorry. 

Dean hums. “So what you’re saying is, we should get in the shower to figure out who’s better.”

“As a start, yes.”

“Cool.”

Dean’s halfway to the bathroom when he suddenly pulled into a hug. Cas steps in and around until they’re pressed chest to chest, clinging to him in a way that would have broken bones if he was still an angel. He pulls away with a kiss to Dean’s closed mouth. “Thank you,” he says emphatically. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’ll never stop being thankful for it.”

A blush explodes across the bridge of Dean’s nose. “That’s cheating.”

“I meant it.”

Dean looks at him, helpless. “Cas.”

Cas stares his fill until he’s apparently done, nodding to himself before leading Dean, by the hand, into the bathroom. “Come.”

Dean does, for the record.

[kitb0bit]

Dogfight

Arthur Morgan x Female reader

Chapter One:

song:

lyrics written in bold

Winter had struck your little cabin out in the middle of no where, and you were stuck at home by the fire trying to warm up your numb fingers. You’d struggled to get food recently as a few wolves had been stalking the mountains outside- you wouldn’t risk going near those things, especially without company or proper supplies. All you could do was sit there and ration whilst you wait for the winter to subside. That was until you heard a knock at your door.

You jumped up in shock and ran to the window to investigate. Your eyes were met with a tall, scruffy but handsome looking man with a gentle smile on his face.

“Who are you…? What do you want?” You asked warily.

“M’names Arthur. I was wondering if you knew where to find this feller.”

He held up a picture of a man you knew all too well. He used to be your friend until he had stolen your horse and all of your belongings a few years ago and had never been caught. This sparked your curiosity, as this man could be a part of the law or a bounty hunter seeking him out.

You raised an eyebrow, “Maybe…how come?”

“Would you let me in ma’am? I don’t mean harm I promise.”

You reluctantly opened your cabin door and watched as his large frame entered, having to duck his head to get under your small run-down door frame.

“Nice place.” He mumbles, clutching his belt buckle.

You smile, “I do my best.”

“Mm” He subconsciously replies, and walks around to examine your cosy house. You took that as an opportunity to explore his features further.

He wore mostly black with an elaborate silver-buckle belt hung loosely around his hips. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, revealing his muscular forearms and in his gloved hands was his hat, held at his stomach out courteously. And finally your eyes meet his face. He had a warn down but content look about him which was complemented with his scruffy beard and slightly overgrown hair.

“Hey, don’t touch!”

His eyebrows furrow, concerned at the sudden outburst, and distances himself away from the shelf he was previously looking at.

However his cheerful demeanour is instantly back again and he walks over to your small table and chair, “Well…may i just sit down?”

“Uh-of course.”

You pull the chair out for him, and stand at the other side of the table expectantly. He pauses in silence before a short while, collecting his thoughts, before showing you the picture once again. He slid it across the table and tapped it with his index and middle finger, and then sat back in his chair, slouching with his legs spread out lazily. You huffed and muttered “bastard” at the picture in anger from just seeing that horrid mans face again.

“You don’t mind if i smoke do you?” He asked, pulling out a cigarette.

“Sure, you need some matches?”

He patted his pockets to check and responded with, “Yes please darlin’.”

You retrieved a match and walked round the table to meet him. Leaning over, you attempted to light the match, to no success as your hands were too shaky from the blistering cold. Arthur, upon realising this, clasped your hands in his to hold them steady and looked up at you with his deep blue eyes as he lit it. You couldn’t help the tingling feeling you got when he did this. The feeling was new to you, but you knew right away that you were attracted to him. You couldn’t deny it- he was very charming.

You stood back and turned around in an attempt to conceal your reddening face.

“Can i get you a drink?”

He took the cigarette out of his mouth and replied, “Oh no thank you miss…?”

“y/l/n…just call me y/n.”

He nodded his head and smiled, “It’s pretty.”

“Huh?” You turned around to face him.

“Your name,” He nodded, “It’s pretty.”

“O-oh thank you.”

There was a brief silence- you looking at your feet whilst he remained looking at you.

“So who are you meant to be anyway? Some kind of lawman?” You questioned.

“Far from it.” He chuckled, “I’m just gettin’ a job done.”

“You killing him?”

“Why does it concern you?” He raised a brow and smiled playfully.

“I used to know him. We were good friends actually. We were out camping one night until he ran into some trouble. A gang of guys found him and I think he owed them or somethin’. Anyway, he took my horse, my guns and all the rest of my valuable shit and fled. It was hard surviving after that. I was in the middle of no where!”

“Well I believe that gang of guys is who i’m workin’ for. and as you can imagine they want the worst for him, to say the least. So, do you know where i can find him?” He asked.

“Well I do know that whenever he got into trouble like this, he’d hide at his parents house if that’s any help to you.”

He looked up at you, “You know the address?”

You nodded your head.

“Well thank you ma’am it means a lot.”

You smiled, “It’s no problem. You’re doing me a favour.” You laughed, whilst he just smiled. “Would you like to stay for lunch? I don’t have much but I am quite the cook.”

Arthur watched as you opened your cupboard, “Wow you really don’t have much do you?”

“Nope. I haven’t been able to hunt in this weather, and with all the wolves going around lately i’ve been too scared to go outside if i’m being honest.” You admitted, “There’s never any food in the house and my fingers are numb from the cold constantly as I can’t get wood for the fire.”

“Well why don’t you come hunting with me girl! I’ll keep you company.”

You bit your lip, “I dunno…”

“Cmon, I owe you.” He smiled and stood up before taking another drag from his cigarette.

You nodded your head and replied with a simple “Yeah, okay” and walked towards your cupboard to retrieve your rifle, bow and any other essentials. Arthur walked towards the door and held it open for you, and waited for you to walk under his arm before following behind.

“That’s a beautiful horse. What’s its name?” He asked whilst lifting himself up onto his own.

You patted your horse and answered, “He doesn’t have one yet. I just got him a few days ago and still haven’t thought of a name.”

***

After a short while you were both deep into the snow-coated forrest being as quiet as you could. You hadn’t been outside in a while- it was refreshing but also terrifying. You were constantly weary of the wolves. Usually you weren’t too scared of hunting with predators, but there was just so many of them and so little of you. However you somehow felt safe with this stranger, and kept close to him at all times.

Your attention was suddenly alerted by arthur, as he whispered “C’mere” and held out his hand for you to take it, to which you did and crawled towards him behind a large rock.

He pointed and whispered in your ear, “Over there” whilst placing his other hand on the small of your back.

You peered over the rock to see a buck feeding off of as much grass as he could under the deep snow. Your immediate reaction was swiftly taking out your bow and arrow, but you were stopped from making any further movements by the large man next to you.

Arthur leant into you and whispered, “Slowly…be calm” and held your hands on the bow and arrow to support you. “Aim for the head…deep breath,” He instructed, “Always shoot on empty lungs.”

You pulled the arrow back, took a deep breath and shot the buck right in the head. You almost cheered in joy before remembering you couldn’t draw attention to yourself. This little victory could get you at least 6 weeks worth of food. You turned to Arthur who had a beaming smile on his face, but your cheerful mood suddenly faltered when you saw his smile instantly become fearful and his gaze shifted to behind you.

You turned around to see a huge grey wolf heading right towards the two of you. You heard arthur shout “oh shit!!” and immediately jump in front of you, firing his gun at the beast. You screamed in fear and shot the best you could with your shaky hands as the wolf pounced onto Arthur, scratching and biting him all over. Without hesitation, you pointed your rifle at the wolfs head and killed it, causing its lifeless body to slump onto poor Arthur, who laid there in shock.

“Oh my god are you okay?!” You said with a wobbly voice whilst pushing the great beast off of his wounded torso. He struggled to get his words out, attempting to say he was okay but you both knew that wasn’t true, so he instead let out a groan in pain. His shirt was ripped to shreds and covered in blood, but he remained with, astoundingly, no life threatening injuries- if treated. His hair was disheveled from its previously sleek and groomed state and his face was scrunched up due to his great discomfort. Although he still managed to pull himself in a sitting position.

You had regained your composure just enough to say, “Y-you just- just stay right here okay, Arthur? i’ll be right back!”

He whimpered as he clutched his stomach and responded with just a “mhm” as you ran away.

Coming back with both horses, you grabbed Arthur by the hand to help him up- almost falling over from the weight of him- and helped him jump up onto his horse before dragging the deer over to him and hauling it over the back of his horss.

“Alright let’s go.” You huffed and walked back to your own horse.

Arthur raised his hand, “wait…the- the wolf”

You nodded and took the wolf back to haul over your horse.

***

Arthur was laid in your bed with his shirt completely removed whilst you were by his side, cleaning and dressing the wounds on his chest and stomach. He was mostly relaxed aside from the pain, whilst you were trying to contain that feeling of attraction you had about him, trying not to let your eyes linger on his bare upper body, which rose and fell with every breath, or pay attention to his groans and whimpers in your ear as you touched the particularly sensitive injuries.

“Brace yourself…” You said sympathetically, opening the bottle of alcohol to cleanse his wound. He held your arm and gripped it tight as you slowly poured the burning liquid onto him. His breathing fastened, and he whimpered in agony with every breath.

“Faster woman! do it quick!” He commanded in desperation.

You obeyed and got it over and done with aswell as dressing it as best you could- which was pretty well considering you had almost no experience with this sort of thing.

You cupped his face in your hand in attempt to comfort him and softly said “Shh it’s all done now.” He closed his eyes in relief, but still had your arm gripped in his hand. “Are you feeling alright now?”

He nodded and sighed. “God thank you y/n, i don’t know where i’d be without you.”

“No thank you Arthur. You saved me. And you wouldn’t even be in this situation if you hadn’t been so kind as to help me hunt.” You laughed and said, “You’re my knight in shining armour.”

He laughed too and said, “Well I cant say i’m all that great but it’s no problem honey.”

There was a brief moment of silence whilst you just smiled at each other, and there was never an awkward silence with him, only comforting.

“Well…I suppose I should get going.” He added and went to get up, but was quickly stopped by your hand on his chest.

“Absolutely not. You need rest.” You insisted.

“But-”

“Look at the time!”

“I can travel in the dark!”

“And the weather! It’s about to get a lot harsher than this. See all the clouds up there?” You pointed up at the dark angry clouds ready to unleash a blizzard at any moment.

“Oh well…alright then. But only because you insist. If I become a burden you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.” He laughed.

You smiled at him and nodded before blowing out your candles and crawling into your double bed next to him. You both got comfortable, you laying on your side facing him and him still laid on his back.

About a few minutes later, Arthur broke the silence and whispered, “Hey, maybe you should come with me.”

“Huh?” You looked up at him with your eyebrows furrowed.

“Nevermind” He said, sounding almost like he was embarrassed.

You rested your head on his chest, consciously avoiding his injuries, and wrapped your arm around his lower stomach for some warmth. You knew this was a little forward, but you were too tired and cold to care. “No…i’d love to go with you. I mean i’ve got nothing better to do, and i’d love to see that asshole get what he deserves. You are actually killing him right?”

He chuckled softly. “Well no, y/n, unfortunately they want him alive. But there’s no harm in beating him almost to death.”

“Fine by me.” You both laughed and soon fell asleep like that. You slept happily knowing you’d finally felt content for once in a long time, and you sensed that he felt the same.

[twilightmalachite]

Altered - Heaven and Hell 22

Author: Akira

Characters: Tsumugi, Rei

Translator: Mika Enstars

"I suppose I’ve become emotionally unstable after everything that’s happened to me. My mother would also cry or lose her temper without warning if things went badly, am I like that too?"

Season: Winter

Location: Yumenosaki Academy Library

⚠️ This is an import from a unproofed Twitter Livetweet!

2 years ago in the winter. Shortly after the subjugation of the Five Eccentrics that marked the end of the war…

Tsumugi: —and then everyone lived happily forever.

Happily, ever after.

… …

Rei: O~i, what’s up, Aoba-kun? You’re looking rather melancholy.[1]

Rei: Hold on, could it be that you’re crying?

Tsumugi: I-I should be the one saying "what’s up". Whats up with that grandpa-like way of speaking, Rei-kun?

Rei: Just thinking about retiring for a while, so I’m searching for a suitable character for that.

Rei: I’ve gotten real bored of this “Superstar Sakuma Rei” character.

Tsumugi: The incongruity is amazing.

Rei: Yeah. I feel surprisingly at ease with it, I like it.

Welp, I guess it’ll take some time t’ease into. I cant help but feel uncomfortable in the end, ‘specially in front of people who already know me.

Tsumugi: Mhm. Your typical tone of voice suits you better, Rei-kun.

When you use such a grandfatherly tone like that, it’s like I’ve suddenly become a stranger, and I feel uneasy.

Rei: Hmm~. It sounds like you’re sayin’ that from the bottom of your heart.

What’s goin’ on with you, Tsumugi? You’ve become quite the emotional person, havent’cha? Even now, it looked like you were cryin’ from gettin’ emotionally involved in that book!

Tsumugi: Yeah… I’m a little surprised, myself.

These day’s I’ve been really enjoying reading.

Rei: Oh?

Tsumugi: I’ve been very captivated by books that before I’d simply skim through. I feel thrilled by the adventurous tales within, feel heartbroken by the tragic loves, and cry.

I wonder why. I don’t know why, but all of a sudden I’ve been like this.

I suppose I’ve become emotionally unstable after everything that’s happened to me. My mother would also cry or lose her temper without warning if things went badly, am I like that too?

Rei: Nahh. You, emotionally unstable?

That ain’t it. You’re just finally startin’ to experience those emotions.

Tsumugi: … …

Rei: Typically, humanity is learned naturally through contact with your parents and friends when you’re a child.

You’ve finally got yours after a miserable war.

Babies learn the concept of “laughing” when their parents laugh at them.

You were never able to have that opportunity, though. Your family ain’t a functioning family.

Yet, despite such an environment, you’ve been playin’ the role of the big brother at a training school since you were young, and had to be always takin’ care of lil’ kids.

Ya don’t need emotion in that work. As long as you fulfill your function, that’s all that matters.

So ya continued to operate solely as a convenient machine, while you, who should’ve been at the back of it all, were ignored.

But, at Yumenosaki, even someone like you has to expose yourself.

Inspired by those who truly live, you’ve been forced to pull yourself out.

During the war, you’ve had many upon many heart-to-heart clashes with others. You cried, laughed, and got angry together with everyone…

Those emotions sprouted, grew steadily, and took root inside of you.

Now you’re able to laugh and cry, and empathize with the tragedies and comedies in stories that never resonated with you before.

Since it’s somethin’ you experienced before, somethin’ you felt before, you can understand it from experience.

The reason we are moved by a story is because we can connect it to our own experiences.

And you’ve had quite a lot of those “experiences” through just the short duration of the war.

That’s why these stories are able to move ya.

That’s all there is to it, Tsumugi.

You were finally born as a human being, after becomin’ a highschool student.

…Congratulations on your birth, my friend.

Tsumugi: ? It’s not my birthday today, though~?

Rei: Hahah, guess you’re not quite there yet. Take your time growin’ up, lil’ baby.

Tsumugi: Hah… Anyways, Rei-kun, do you have something to do with me? Or, did you just happen to be passing by?

Rei: Right, I’m jus’ here to check up on the school.

There’s been a strange rumor goin’ around lately. That the Five Eccentrics are gatherin’ and are plannin’ to strike back at the student council.

Tsumugi: Ah, there is a rumor like that, yeah.

Something about… the Five Eccentrics forming a unit, so they can challenge and defeat the fine that had subjugated them.

But… You’re clever, so I’m sure you already know this, Rei-kun, but it’s just a baseless fabrication put out there by the student council.

Rei: I figured it would be somethin’ like that but… Hm~, is that true?

Glad to hear. There was the possibility of Natsume seriously considerin’ a plot of revenge. So I came all the way over here, just in case.

Seems I was worryin’ for nothin’. Good, that’s a relief.

Tsumugi: Natsume-kun does seem to be in a bit of a dangerous spot. I can’t help but worry about him.

We had a bonfire together the other day, and he was looking like he had reached his limit. I tried to tell him this and that for the time being, but…

After hurting him, I feel anything I say will only add fuel to his fire.

Rei: The fact he feels bothered by your words I’m sure just means that he feels your presence has weight to him.

If it were anyone else sayin’ it, he would ignore it.

Tsumugi: Is that so… I wonder if my existence is still at least a bit significant in his mind, then.

If so, it’s a terrible thing to say, but, it’d make me kinda happy.

Because I like him. I really do.

Rei: You seem to really like him, despite the fact he keeps hittin’ and stompin’ on ya mercilessly for some reason. It’s kinda unnervin’, he your abusive boyfriend or somethin’?

If ya don’t correct those sorts of misaligned feelings, you’ll have a hard time livin’, ya know.

Tsumugi: Hmm~, I guess that’s a part of myself even I don’t know what to do about.

It’s something that’s not easy to do right away.

Rei: Welp, it’s fine to take your time growin’ up, lil’ baby.

Tsumugi: I’m not exactly red though, if anything, I’m blue~?[2]

Rei: Ahaha, that misalignment of your personality there is exactly what makes ya so both so interestin’ and so irritatin’!

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Rei’s speaking in the “grandfather”-esque fashion that we’re used to in this and the following line here. He drops it after that.

A difficult one to translate smoothly here; the word for baby is “akachan” (赤ちゃん), the “aka” meaning “red”. It’s derived from how red appears. Tsumugi jokes that he’s more of an “aochan” (青ちゃん) here. He just swapped “red” out with “blue”. It’s the same ao as in aoba, or aotori (bluebird).

[littledraga]

Fairy Hunting

Baby Tiffany getting a rare free day and going exploring!

It was finally warm enough to go exploring again after a long and cold winter. The first flowers were blooming in the bright sun as a little Tiffany hiked through the trees. Even at all of seven, it was rare for her to have so much time to herself to go exploring. And she wasn’t about to let it go to waste!

All winter Grandpa had told her stories about the fairies in the woods, and she wanted to see them for herself! She knew about the dangerous creatures in the mountains that protected her village. But it wasn’t often she could hear stories about creatures who only wanted to play and have fun!

With a small wooden box under her arm, she excitedly ran off the beaten path to look for the best spot to see a fairy. The fairy hunting box would help her, just like Grandpa told her when he had shown her. She just needed a good spot.

One hour turned to two, then three. By now, Tiffany was in a place she’d never been before. Something she would normally think was exciting, but the trees were so dense she wasn’t sure which way was which anymore. Sitting down on a fallen tree, she set the fairy box down to have a think and figure out how to get home. Though she most definitely didn’t cry. She didn’t sob and scrub her face on her sweater, afraid she wouldn’t find her way back. No, not at all.

And it was while she was certainly not crying that someone noticed her. Someone who’d never seen a child out this way before. And for good reason.

“Children shouldn’t be here, you know,” said a small voice that made Tiffany jump.

Snapping her head up, Tiffany looked around. But she couldn’t see anyone. Something that made her very afraid. So she did as she was always taught when something was amiss. Keep her eyes open and her mouth shut.

“It’s dangerous here. You should go home,” said the voice again. Concerned this time. And closer.

Tiffany tried to pinpoint the voice, looking around and behind her. But still, no one was there. It was rather strange, she thought to herself as she turned around to sit properly again. Only to have a green light glowing in her face.

She let out a high pitched scream and fell back onto the grass and dirt with a thump and a whimper. If they were that close, she was in trouble.

But instead came laughter. Looking up from where she was sprawled in the dirt, Tiffany watched as the tiniest man she had ever seen walked to the edge of the log, surrounded by a green light that seemed to pulse from wings tucked neatly on his back. He laughed as he watched her, hands on his hips.

“Jumpy little thing, ain’tcha?” He teased as Tiffany fumbled back onto her feet. His hair was green as the light around him. Floating up from the wood, he got closer again.

“Ya heard me, didn’t ya?” He asked and flew around her head, making her spin in a circle and giggled when she did.

“I-I did,” she admitted sheepishly. “But I don’t know where here is to leave.”

The little man crossed his arms and sighed. “A bit old ta be gettin’ lost in the woods, aintcha? Kids your size normally know where you’re goin’. Or at least not ta come out this way.”

“I’m only seven!” Yelled Tiffany, her little hands on her hips. “Northsmen are just tall! Not my fault everyone else is short,” she mumbled as her shoulders slumped. It was hard, being a little girl who could only afford boys hand me downs and was already taller than the boys her age.

“A Northsman, huh? I ain’t ever heard of that. You some type of giant? I’ve met those before!” Spinning around Tiffany again, he flew up high and into the branches above her.

“Had to fly this high just so he’d hear me! You gonna be that tall?”

“No!” She giggled as he came back down to spin around her before lounging on the log.

“Northsmen are humans! We just grow extra tall where we come from. Wherever that is.” Her father rarely talked about where he was from after all. No matter how much she begged. He’d just huff and walk away.

“Humans are weird!” He laughed.

“Fairies never get big. Means we can nap anywhere we like. And I can always have the best hiding spot in hide and seek!”

Tiffany gasped and jumped on her feet.

“You’re a fairy!” she shouted.

“A real life fairy, right?” After bringing the fairy hunting kit this far and she didn’t even need it!

Said fairy watched her a moment before falling back in a fit of laughter.

“I am. What did you think I was? I fly?”

“I’ve never seen a fairy! I came out to see one because I’ve never seen one. Grandpa told me lots of stories all winter about fairies and their games. So I wanted to see for myself. So I borrowed his fairy hunting box so I could find you! Well, a fairy anyway.”

While she continued to ramble and rattle away about stories, and something about running into a frong. Or probably a frog. The fairy sat and watched her with a grin. This was why most fairies like children. Who else enjoyed things as much as a child?

“Sounds like you’ve had an adventure! And I’d know, I’ve been on a few myself, you know,” he told her as he moved to sit on her shoulder.

“Lots and lots of them! I could tell you some while we get you home?” He offered.

Tiffany beamed at the offer. Meeting a fairy and getting to hear their stories? It was better than a Giving! She nodded her head so hard her body moved with her. Causing her new friend to yelp and tumble. Luckily, his wings caught him.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to!”

Instead of being upset, the fairy laughed as he righted himself.

“Alright, alright. I’ll fly on my own then!” He teased.

“Now, where is home for my tiny giant friend, hm? Which set of humans do you belong to?”

It took Tiffany a few seconds to understand, but when she did she made to point. Pausing only once she remembered she didn’t know the way.

“I’m in Kingspool. The village on the cape. I live up on the cliff.”

“All the way down there?” The fairy whistled. Long walk for a little human.

“We’d better hurry if you want to be home for supper, my tiny giant! But lucky you, I know the way. I’ve fought off a few of your cats,” he laughed as they started back down the mountain and to a path to take his new friend home.

"The cats are mean," she agreed while they walked. She never had much luck with the cats in Kingspool. The ones by the docks were the worst!

"They are!" Laughed the fairy flying just a little ahead to mimic swatting them. "There was a tabby that chased down rabbits day and night!" He complained.

"Couldn't have that. Fat cat ate plenty without being a big bully! Took a while to chase him off. Broke my wing too! I thought I was done for," he whined, sinking a little as he flew.

Tiffany covered her mouth and gasped.

"Oh no! That must have been scary! Our cats get big! Was he going to eat you too?" Adjusting the fairy box, she kept pace with her new friend as he flew a bit ahead to show the way.

"Probably. But luckily for me. I'm smarter than a little bunny," he giggled and spun around.

As Tiffany walked behind the fairy, she leaned closer, excited to hear more. A fairy with stories! What could be better than that? She almost hoped she wouldn’t make it home in time for supper. This was better than anything her mother could make.

“What did you do? Oh, you didn’t hurt them too bad, did you?” Even if they chased her relentlessly, she would feel bad if something bad happened to them.

The fairy laughed hard. His head tilted back so far that he ended up flipping back having to steady himself with a few hard flaps of his glowing wings. Human children were some of the most curious creatures and excitable.

“He was alright. Mostly. A couple cuts and scrapes, nothing his humans couldn’t help him with. Managed to get him to run off. And straight into a rose bush!” He laughed again, holding his sides.

Which made Tiffany laugh too! She supposed that wasn’t so bad. She’d fallen in them too. It hurt, but nothing bad ever happened to her! The worst part was the scolding she got for ripping a new shirt.

“I’m glad he stopped being a bully! No one should be that mean! But how did you scare him into the bush if he broke your wings?”

He gave the little girl a smug look before turning to float upside down.

“Cats are stupid,” he explained simply. When that wasn’t enough, he kicked his feet to get upright again. Clearly, a fairy who enjoyed a good story. Or, at least, a chance to brag.

“When he wasn’t paying attention, I threw pebbles at his tail. Huge fluffy thing it was!” He spread his arms wide.

“And when he turned to look at what got his tail, I threw one on his whiskers. Back and forth and over again! Until the stupid cat spun himself silly!”He giggled again at that, spinning around like he was chasing his own wings.

“Then with a loud hiss, he ran off straight into the thorn bush! Dumb cat stayed inside for a week!”Smacking his hands together, he mimicked the cat with a laugh.

Picturing a cat running in circles, little Tiffany couldn’t help but loudly laugh as well. What a silly sight it must have been! She wished she could have seen it for real.

“That’s really smart!” She praised, laughing more when he puffed out his chest with pride. Fairies were better than the stories. Tiffany almost didn’t want to go home, even as she followed him down a barely used path.

“One of the smartest! And the toughest!” He told her, playfully flexing his arms while he guided her on, careful of anything else in the mountains that would want to hurt a little girl. While fairies weren’t the only things among the trees that liked children, it wasn’t for the same reasons.

“Do you have any other fun stories?” She begged as she jumped on a log and walked down it with her arms outstretched.

“Lots!” He chirped as he playfully ducked and weaved between low branches.

“I could tell you about when I fought off a Treewalker!” The fairy stopped at that and seemed to think for a moment.

“Maybe not. You might be a little young for that story. It’s scary.” Tapping his lip, the fairy hummed, before grinning rather slyly at his tiny giant.

Jumping off the long, she hurried to the fairy. Hands on her hips, she leaned forward a little.

“I’m brave! I’m going to be the guardian of Kingspool when I grow up! Grandpa already taught me lots! I can scare off the banshees! And I know when a shadow isn’t a shadow, or or,” she explained how to protect someone from some of the less scary creatures that lived around.

Something the fairy was quite impressed by as he listened, floating backward as she talked. Most adults didn’t know how to take such good care of themselves! What a smart little girl he’d found. He was surprised she was as lost as she was.

The fairy listened until he bumped into a tree from not paying attention. Laughing, he rubbed his head.

“Aren’t you a smart little giant!” He praised with a laugh. Briefly, he wondered if she needed his help. But either way, he was having far too much fun.

“I guess if you’re that brave, I’ll tell you the story of when I stopped a Treewalker that tried to gobble up my friends and chase us away from home.”

That made her stop in her tracks, bright green eyes wide and her little mouth hanging open.

“You stopped a Treewalker?!” She squeaked. Those were too dangerous for the adults!

“Grandpa says they’re super dangerous, and I should run away if I see one. They trick you, making you think they’re just another tree with vines hanging off it.”

The fairy nodded his head as he flew a bit to try to get her walking again.

“He’s right! They’ll eat anyone they can fit between their teeth.” He held his hands up and mimicked eating with his teeth bared. Not even the animals were that dangerous.

“They’re very tough! Their skin is like tree bark. Makes them very hard to fight,” he explained.

Which had Tiffany rushing to catch up. She needed to know! How did someone so small beat something even the adults were afraid of?

“What did you do? Did you use fairy magic on him?”

“Couldn’t! That doesn’t work on, well, most things ‘cept animals and humans,” he admitted with a laugh. Clearing his throat when she frowned.

“I had to fight him off by myself! With thorn daggers and thistle arrows!” Pulling out said daggers, he spun them in his hands and did a quick trick of tossing them up and catching them.

“Tougher than the stuff you find on a bush, but still not very strong against a Treewalker when he’s hungry. But I wasn’t going to let him eat any of my friends!” He explained, swooping low and back up again.

“I stabbed at his fingers and wrists to make him drop my friends, but it wasn’t enough. He was stubborn! No matter how many times I hit him, he just didn’t care. I thought we were done for!”

“Oh no!” Gasped Tiffany, covering her mouth. Treewalkers never stopped until they were full. Though she’d never heard of them ever being full, just always starving.

“What did you do? Did he eat everyone?” She worried and bounced from foot to foot, even as she tried to keep up. The fairies had to be okay! They had to. Otherwise, that wouldn’t be fair. And to a seven year old, fairness was still very important.

“Nah! Fairies are known for being clever, you know.” He pretended to knock back an arrow and winked.

“When I knew I couldn’t stop him from eating my friends, I did the only thing I could do! I shot him in the eyes. One right after the other!” Pretending to let go of the imaginary arrows, he raised his hands triumphantly.

“Then! When he was yelling and scratching at his eyes, I threw a dagger in his mouth!”

Wide eyed, Tiffany jumped. They were so small. How could something so small stop something as big as a tree?

“Was it enough? Did you scare him off?”

At first, he just beamed before he nodded.

“It worked! When he couldn’t open his eyes he got really mad and started to swing his fists like mad! But I dodged him easy. When I threw the dagger, he decided we were too much work and bumped around and away!”

Tiffany cheered loudly, throwing a fist into the air. Happy endings were her favourite.

“You’re amazing! Grandpa was right. Fairies are wonderful,” she praised.

“Thank you! It’s always good to know someone still likes us,” he told her, coming to a stop.

“Maybe if I see you again, I can tell you more stories,” he offered before waving a hand.

They were in a familiar spot. The trees faded away, and in the distance was a small house on a cliff with a tin roof and smoke curling out of the chimney.

Tiffany stood in awe. Looking over her shoulder, she spun around, trying to make sense of everything. They hadn’t walked that long, surely? Had she gotten so turned around that she hadn’t actually gone far?

Watching her, the fairy giggled.

“Your grandpa should have told you stories about fairy rings. And that you should never walk into one,” he warned with a serious look but smiled quickly.

“Sometimes we don’t let you go. Things are different on this side.”

For the first time since she was found, Tiffany looked afraid. Grandpa had warned her about fairy rings! But she never noticed. Did that mean she was trapped?

Though her new friend only let her worry for a moment.

“Don’t worry, I don’t like keeping people. Most the time. Just keep walking straight ahead, and you’ll make it home.”

When she didn’t move at first, the fairy sighed and crossed his arms. It really was only right to not trust a fairy, he supposed. Especially when he’d already tricked her once. For her own good or not.

“Go on. I’ll stay right here until you get inside and see your parents,” he promised.

He wouldn’t lie, right? But if she left, there would be no more stories. Would she ever get to meet a fairy again?

“Are you going to go far away when you go away?” She asked, fidgeting with her hands.

A small hum and the fairy sunk down to sit on her shoulder again.

“Far away for me, and far away for you aren’t the same thing,” he explained. Things were very different for fairies than they were for humans after all.

“But you better not get lost again,” he teased, grinning wide when she giggled.

“Be careful out there, and I bet I’ll see you again if you go hunting for fairies.” A playful nudge, and he shooed her off.

“Thank you for taking me home! I hope you have lots of fun adventures!” She called as she ran to her little house where dinner was being made still.

Once she made it inside, she didn’t even say hello before she looked out the window.

Just like he said, there was a little green light at the edge of the trees. A little bounce, and it darted away as her grandfather stepped over to put a hand on her head.

“Did you make a friend out there today?”

“Yeah! I met the best fairy!” She giggled as she sat at the table for dinner. The very best fairy indeed. With stories she would keep forever. Tiffany would never stop keeping an eye out for a little green light.

Even when she grew too old to play with fairies and the expectations of the village bore heavy on her shoulders, Tiffany always watched for little green fairy lights.

[navegandoaciegas]

Broken Wings {2/2}

Pairing: Lee Bodecker x Reader

Summary: You’re a small town girl with big city dreams, set on leaving Knockemstiff and its Sheriff behind for good. Lee Bodecker would do anything to make sure you stay with him.

Warnings: smut, explicit language, non-con, breeding kink, unprotected vaginal sex, creampie, overall dark themes, kind of a slow build up to the nasty.

A/N: Sorry for the delay, I’ve had an eventful couple of days. This is part 2, read part 1 here.

The adrenaline that rushed through your veins blocked out the pain in your body and the noises around you. Your breathing came out in short, panicked huffs as you sprinted through the woods, Lee hot on your heels.

You thought back to the past 12 hours, and how they’d changed your life.

Leaving Knockemstiff and boarding a bus for New York, with your big dreams and a small bag. Almost reaching Pennsylvania’s border before your hopes were snatched away. Lee chasing said bus, blasting the sirens of his patrol car and pulling the driver over. The dread that settled in your stomach when you met his enraged stare, your hopes of a better life shattering in a million pieces, the anger and humiliation that had filled you when he’d dragged you, kicking and screaming, out of the bus, under the judgemental or pitying stares of the passengers.

“You can’t run from me, dove.”

His voice echoed in the woods, tantalizing and terrorizing you all the same. You’d managed to bolt away and hide in the woods before he could handcuff you, but you hadn’t made it too far before he’d found you.

In the event that he’d ever caught you, you’d imagined that he’d fall on his knees and beg you to stay. Lee dragging your ass out of the bus like any drunk bastard he’d escorted home after a fight was certainly not the reaction you’d expected.

You pushed the branches out of your face, feeling a new tear in the skin of your cheeks whenever you’d barrel through a bush. You had no idea where you were going, all you knew was that you had to keep running until your feet bled. Hide. Disappear.

Just a couple more miles and you’d find another town, you could catch a bus then, and maybe you’d be safe-

One second you were sprinting through the trees, and the next your foot was caught in an exposed root, and you tumbled down the slope with your arms stretched out to protect your face.

You hissed in pain when you lifted your palms from the ground. Debris stuck to the abrasion, and it burnt and stung when you flexed your hands. You tried standing up, but fell back among the leaves, feeling lightheaded.

You registered some more cuts on your knees, but you couldn’t tell whether it was blood or tears that streamed down your face.

The branches contorted around you, and the shadows they casted danced around the edges of your vision.

New York, new life, new beginning. Your mom’s smile in her Sunday dress when she’d waved you off. The stench of alcohol in Lee’s breath when he’d caught on the bus.

You thought you’d heard a voice call your name in the distance before your vision went dark, and you let the void envelop you.

-

The sky had turned dark when Knockemstiff’s rusty welcome sign came into view, and he hadn’t spoken a word to you since you’d woken up in his car, with his dark leather jacket draped over your shoulders and bandages on your bruised skin.

You’d stopped sobbing, and you’d run out of pleads, apologies, and tears.

For the first time in your life, you were afraid of him.

His car pulled to a stop in a deserted parking lot. He killed off the engine, and clenched his jaw, inhaling a deep breath before he spoke.

“What was goin’ through that dumb head of yours, sweetie? What made you think you could up, and fuckin’ leave me like that?” he bit through gritted teeth, chest heaving. “One of the boys called me this morning, said he heard your mother talk about you to one of her old hags, babblin’ ‘bout leaving for good, New York, a job.”

He let out a bitter laugh, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.

“He thought she’d finally done lost her goddamn mind. Ain’t no sheriff’s girl leaving town for good, he said.”

“I’m sorry, Lee, I should've told you, I was selfish-”

“Yes, you fuckin’ were, fuckin’ selfish is what you are.” he screamed, and you jumped in surprise, because he’d never raised his voice at you.

“I’m sorry, I can’t give you what you want. I don’t want that. You know I don’t belong here Lee, just lemme go, forget all about me.” you pleaded once again, voice small and broken.

He stayed silent for a moment after your little rant, before bursting into a fit of laughter. His body shook with the vibration, and he clutched his stomach, as if no joke had ever sounded so fun in his ears.

“Forget about you? Sweetie, you know I can’t do that. I love you too much.”

“If you love me, let me go Lee, I’m begging you. Please.” you sobbed, gripping his hands in yours, hoping your wobbling lips would move him.

He sighed, and enveloped your hands in his warm ones, bringing them to his lips. He left a trail of kisses from the inside of your wrists to your knuckles.

“Come with me, then. Leave this shitty place behind for good, Lee. Ain’t nothing good’s come out of ‘ere anyways.”

You thought you’d seen his resolve break. You thought he’d choose you for once. Choose you over his thirst for power.

“You know I can’t do that,” he snapped, raising his voice again, “I’m so close to gettin’ myself elected, the campaign is going well, I can’t give up now.”

“Can’t or won’t?” you pressed, anger hardening your stare.

He held your gaze for a moment before looking ahead, eyes unreadable for the first time since you’d met him.

“You know I’m selfish too,” he shrugged.

He reached for his belt, and held up the metal handcuffs, wordlessly securing them around your wrists, ignoring your protests.

“Just stay here.” he grumbled before swinging the door open.

The cold, unyielding cuffs dug in your wrists as you attempted to tug them free from the metal hook on the dash where they were attached to.

It was useless, but it made you feel like you were actually trying. You were mad at Lee, of course, at whoever had tipped him off, and at yourself.

Especially at yourself for your wistful thinking, for convincing yourself that Lee would have given up on you as you’d had on him. For not running fast enough, being strategic enough.

You huffed in annoyance when the metal hook refused to give in, and fell back on the headrest with a groan.

Your calves and shins were sore from your crazy sprint in the woods, and the palms of your hands were scraped from your fall. Lee had cleaned the cuts, but they still stung when you’d inadvertently brush them against each other.

You were mostly unscathed, except for your wounded pride.

You wished your glare could incinerate Lee on the spot when he opened the door to the driver’s seat with a smirk on his lips. The car creaked and swayed when he sat down.

“Fries and vanilla shakes, your favorite.” he announced, opening up the brown paper bag on his lap.

“I’m not hungry.” you mumbled, turning your head to observe the diner’s feeble neon lights in the distance.

Your stomach chose that moment to betray you, and let out a growl when the waft of fried food reached your nose. You hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and you were starving.

“Your tummy seems to think otherwise, dove.”

You used to think that his cocky loopsided grin gave a youthful glow to his face, but now you couldn’t help but hate the satisfaction it oozed.

“Open up.” he chirped, a handful of fries in his hands.

You rolled your eyes, sighing to yourself. “You’re not actually going to do that, are ya? Just uncuff me, Lee.

“I won’t uncuff you until I’m sure I can trust that you won’t run off on me, dove. Might take a while, tho. Now open up.”

You parted your lips, deciding that this one wouldn’t be the hill you’d choose to die on. Glaring at him, you took a bite out of the fries. He hissed when your teeth snapped hard against his fingers, but let out a chuckle seeing you in the state you were in, amused by your pathetic struggle.

“Good girl.” he praised you, feeding you some more like you used to do on those long nights patrolling the streets. Back when feeding each other was an act of love, not a humiliating punishment.

“So how was your little trip in Ohio, sweetie? Enjoyed the fields?”

He hummed when you refused to speak, and brought the milkshake to your mouth, studying your lips as they closed on the striped paper straw, and your cheeks hollowing when you sucked.

“Could’ve drove you myself if you’d asked. Could’ve brought you somewhere nice on holiday this winter. Someplace outside of Ohio.” he continued, taking a sip for himself, “Maybe we can go to a beach on our honeymoon, whaddya say, huh?”

You snorted at his audacity, almost inhaling the milkshake.

“What honeymoon are you talking about, Lee? Ain’t no way I’m marrying you now.”

He shook his head again, a small smile forming on his lips.

“Yes, you are, dove. You are marrying me.”

Your eyes almost bulged out of your head as you gave him an incredulous look. Had you been blinded by love, or was he showing his true colors now?

“What, you’re gonna drag me by the hair and force me to sign the papers? Don’t think the preacher or the fine citizens of this shitty fuckin’ town are gonna like that too much.”

You scoffed, feeling your vision blur with tears again.

Lee levelled his face with yours, eyes darting between your own. You’d never noticed the darkness in him, and it made your heartbeat spike for all the wrong reasons.

“I don’t need to drag you, dove. You’re gonna come to that altar with a smile on these pretty lips. And you know why?” he whispered in your ear, and you felt a shiver go down your spine.

His calloused hand caressed your thigh, slowly hiking up your pleated skirt. “Because I’m finally gonna put a child inside you tonight, and nothing’s gonna stop me.”

Before you had time to react, or panic, he’d climbed to the passenger’s side, caging you in with his large body. He slanted his mouth against yours, forcing his tongue between your lips that you’d parted in a surprised gasp.

You pushed your shoulders against his, trying to pry him away, but he groped you relentlessly. Panic gripped you when you realized you were bound and at his mercy, and he wasn’t joking about his intentions.

“Gonna keep you chained until I knock you up, dove. Keep you in my house, can’t trust that mother of yours,” he huffed between kisses, hands roaming over your body.

“Stop, Lee, have you lost your goddamn mind? Don’t fuckin’ touch me, you asshole. Lemme go.”

You managed to kick his stomach, but in the frantic haze that had overcome him, he barely took notice, continuing his exploration of your body.

You shrieked when his hand dipped in your panties, and to your utter shame, found them soaked.

“You really want me to stop? Because your pussy is telling me a whole ‘nother story, sweetie. Feel how wet you are for me, you like this, don’t ya?”

He brought his finger to your lips, forcing your mouth open until you’d sucked him clean of your juices. He hummed when he dipped down and kissed you again, tasting your arousal on your tongue.

Your teeth snapped on his bottom lip until you’d drawn blood, and he released you with a hiss. His hand gripped your jaw, and tears began blurring your vision.

You couldn’t find adoration, love, and care in his eyes, only cruel determination.

The screams you let out sounded like a muffled gargle.

“Scream all you want, no one’s gonna hear you, and if they do, what’re they gonna say to me? I’m the sheriff sweetie, I’m the law. You were just stupid enough to think you could escape me.”

You pushed, kicked, screamed, thrashed until the metal cuffs had scrubbed your skin raw, fighting the hands that were pushing your bra down until your tits spilled out.

His fingers grazed your heated skin like they’d done a million times before, staining your loving memories forever.

“Fuck sweetheart, you’re gonna look so good with my baby inside you, all round and swollen.” he groaned, nipping at the juncture between your neck and shoulder, sucking on the skin hard enough to hurt you, “All the men in this town are gonna be jealous of me. Might have to keep you locked up all the time.”

You couldn’t deny the throbbing in your core when his tongue licked a stripe behind your ear, nor the arousal soaking through your panties when slid his hand over the hair on your mound, teasing you.

“Gonna keep these tits full of milk for a long time sweetie.”

You moaned when his thick fingers breached your entrance, feeling the pressure build up as he kept pumping them in and out of you. He kept his thumb on your clit, the way he knew you liked, until you were so sensitive and overstimulated that you couldn’t tell pain and pleasure apart.

“You can never leave me, never again. Don’t you understand, I’m nothing without you. I need you.”

He played your body so well that it made you sick.

“Please Lee,” you panted, clenching your jaw to suppress your wanton sounds, “Don’t do this. There’s no turning back from this. Please.” you pleaded, lips wobbling.

“That’s the point,” he huffed, struggling to fit in the space between the passenger’s seat and the dashboard.

He forcefully spread your legs open, making a quick work of ripping your cotton panties to shreds. Bringing his face down to your glistening cunt, he inhaled a deep breath before delving into your folds, tongue lapping at your juices. The lewd, slurping sounds soon mixed with your moans that you could no longer keep in.

By that point you didn’t know if you were fighting to keep his head where it was or to rip it out of his neck.

“You taste like heaven, so fuckin’ sweet.” he grunted before latching onto your bud, hollowing his cheeks arount it as he sucked you off.

Fireworks went off in your lower belly when pleasure exploded inside you. Waves of pleasure crashed through your body, rendering your limbs limp and heavy.

All rational thoughts thrown out the window, you melted into his body when he surged forward to slant his lips against yours. He swallowed your moans with his hungry kisses, cradling your face like the most precious artifact.

It felt wrong, yet so right. He was still Lee. Your Lee. The one who’d drive and sing with you, who’d found your dad a job after he’d lost it, who’d made love with the most care unlike any other man who’d ever laid a finger on you.

At least, that’s what you tried telling yourself when he pushed his hard, leaking cock inside your swollen cunt, and your body welcomed him in your warmth without any fight.

You both snarled when he sheathed himself inside you.

“I love you so much sweetie, I can’t lose you again.”

It was wrong and dirty, but it was okay to feel good because it was your Lee between your legs.

He hoisted your legs over his shoulders and slumped against the seat. His cock reached deeper than you thought possible, and you felt every ridge and veins slide over your walls.

Teeth clattering, bruising touches. You ached to touch him, maybe claw his eyes out or caress his chubby cheeks.

Electricity jolted every nerve ending on your body, and the next words he whimpered in your ear would have been a cold shower, had you not been so far gone already.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ cum inside you, dove, fill you up with my cum over and over again until I’m sure I’ve put a baby in you. Fuck-”

He snapped his hips harder against yours, thrusting his cock in and out of you. Your cunt quivered around him, gripping him tightly. He pushed you over the edge over and over again, until you were a drooling mess who couldn’t form coherent thoughts anymore.

“I told you sweetie, it’s only a matter of time.” He punctuated each world he panted in the crook of your neck with a harsher thrust of his hips. “Ain’t no more parking lots, just a big ole bed. Yeah, people like me in this town, you know that, dove. I’ll get myself elected-, get a- cushy place up on Brewer Heights. We’ll be happy, have kids and all. My pretty wife, fuck- every man in this shitty town will envy me.”

You bucked your hips against his, wildly chasing your release. He could feel another one of your orgasms near by the way you clenched around him.

“Fuck-, God, you’re squeezin’ me. Fuckin’ cum on ny cock dove, I want to feel you come all over me, make a mess on me.”

You pushed out the muscles of your pelvis, and the intensity of your pleasure almost blacked you out again as you gushed all over him, soaking through your skirt onto the seat.

His cock swelled and twitched, and he released himself inside you, painting your walls with his hot spurt. The feeling was unlike anything you’d ever felt before, a fullness you never thought you could experience.

Your chest heaved as you slumped on the seat, arms aching and wrists scrubbed raw.

His cock softened inside you, and he watched enthralled his seed spill out of your cunt, your abused hole still clenching around nothing.

“Jesus, I hope it takes, dove.”

He droned some more, but you’d stopped listening. You kept staring ahead, letting him dress you back again like a motionless doll.

Had you been more aware, you would have seen the shadow of guilt creep on his face, soon replaced by cool determination when he blinked the tears away and hardened his stare once again.

Your body didn’t feel like your own anymore.

Static noises interrupted his actions.

“Any cars around-...got a call from Hawk at the bar- anyone can check that out?”

“Fuck,” he groaned, picking up the radio, “I wanted to go at it a few more times, just to make sure.”

Minutes, or maybe hours, passed by in a blur. You had no idea where you were, or how long it’d been since he dragged you back in this hellhole.

New York, a new job, a new beginning. It all seemed so far.

There was only one thing you knew for sure.

“I’m getting out of ‘ere again, Lee.” You murmured in a daze, “I’m getting out and God himself couldn’t stop me if he tried.”

Drained of all energies, you let the soothing sway of the car lull you to sleep.

Lee sighed to himself, watching you so defensless, bound at his mercy. He’d take care of you until the end of his miserable life, and protect you from everything, even yourself.

“I'm the only God here, sweetie, and I can assure you, you’re not going anywhere.”

Afterall, his dove couldn’t fly away from him with broken wings.

-

I hope you enjoyed this! Please, leave some feedback. It means the world to me! 💓

[itsallyscorner]

obvius w sebastian bc hes my baby. Seb's pov? fluff fluff

Hehehe Obvious is such a cute song🥺 I hope you like it and thank you for being patient!❤️❤️

Also just realized you said you wanted it in Seb’s pov, I totally missed that, I’m so sorry💀😭

💌.

obvious

Warnings: none, just different mornings of waking up next to Seb:)

I love the taste of you in the morning

Keep me warm and

Nothin' else, nothin' more important

Makes me wanna believe in love (Mmm)

I love the thought of us in the evening

Crave the feeling

The way you feel, somethin' 'bout it's healing

I'm praying we don't fuck this up (Ah-ah-ah, babe)

The sun’s light shines through the curtains creating a warm light to fill the room. The room is slightly chilly but you could care less. Being in Sebastian’s arms had kept you warm throughout the night. You take a breath in as you stretch your limbs out, the sounds of the sheets shifting and your joints cracking breaking the silence.

Sebastian’s hand rests on your bare stomach under your shirt. His large hand keeping your exposed stomach warm. You stroke his arm before turning in his grip. You’re greeted by Sebastian sleeping beside you. His hair is a fluffy mess, the ends splayed out against the pillow his head is on. His face is peaceful while his mouth is slightly agape.

You lazily smile as you lightly brush a strand of his short hair from his forehead. You press a kiss to the corner of his lips as you admire his sleeping form. Was it kinda creepy? Maybe. But the love of your life was sleeping beside you in bed and you enjoyed the feeling of waking up beside him.

Sebastian’s lips crack into a smile a few seconds after you kiss him. The sight makes you grin, “Were you awake this whole time?”

Sebastian hums as he rubs the sleep out his eyes. Your (e/c) eyes meet his crystal ones when his lids finally open. Pulling you closer into his chest he softly says, “I woke up when you started stretching.”

You look up at him and kiss his chin as he looks down at you. His thumbs stroke your back as his palms are flush against your skin.

“Good morning.” You contently sigh. Your arm rests on his shoulder while your fingers card through his soft hair.

“Good morning, iubitel.” His voice is rough and gravely, fresh from sleep. You realize how lucky you are to be one of the first people to hear his voice like this in the morning.

“I like this.” You muse as you tuck your head in between his shoulder and neck.

“You like what, my love?” His chest rumbles against yours, reminding you that this is real and that he woke up beside you.

“Waking up next to you. Waking up in your arms and being warm when I wake up because I have my own human furnace.” You feel him shift so that he’s on his back and you’re on top of him. You rest your head on your arms as you stare down at him, “I want this every morning.”

“I know, I want this every morning too. You’re a really great teddy bear.” He jokes as he leans into you. You make a noise and hide your face in your arms. Sebastian huffs as he tries to maneuver his way to your lips.

“Baby, I need my good morning kiss.” He whines, trying to move your arms.

“No, let me brush my teeth first.” You protest. Sebastian huffs again and flips the two of you over. Suddenly, his fingers are digging into your sides, making you squeal.

“NO SEB!” Your hands grip onto his trying to stop his fingers. Sebastian smiles and crashes his lips onto yours. The taste of him entering your mouth as you eventually kiss him back. His fingers now stroking your sides, soothing them from his tickling.

“I love you.” He tells you against your lips.

“I love you too.”

Others that I've had had to impress me before

But I knew you were the real thing

When you walked through the door

I didn't think that I would have to spell it out

You met Seb on set of The Winter Soldier. You were part of the makeup department and he happened to be assigned to you. Now during that time, he was in a relationship, though that didn’t stop you from secretly having a crush on him. I mean, you had to face him every single day because you did his makeup, so you couldn’t avoid him.

You remember the first day you met him. The way he walked in through the trailer doors with a shy smile on his face and how he asked if he was in the right trailer. Since the beginning, he’s shown nothing but kindness and respect to you and the others on set.

You work with him again during Civil War and you guys got closer. He was assigned to you again which meant you saw him everyday. You guys caught up, asking each other what they’ve been up to or how their day was. When you asked him how his girlfriend was he made a face and told you that they broke up. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the tiniest bit of excitement burst inside you.

Around the same time, he asked you out to lunch during one of his breaks. As much as you wanted to go you couldn’t because you were needed on set. So Sebastian brought lunch to you, which started the routine of having lunch in his trailer together. Trailer lunches turned into real dates and those dates eventually became the start of your relationship.

Oh, my love, oh, my love is free

Ain't no price on my loyalty

No shit, got me right where you want me, baby

Could I be more obvious? (Ooh)

The two of you were tangled in your sheets once again on a sunny morning. Sebastian had been staying at your place for a few days now, wanting to spend as much time with you before he leaves for another one of his projects.

The two of you laid in silence, basking in the warm and calm atmosphere of the sun’s light in your room. You were laying on your stomach, your right hand tucked under your head and your left hand on Sebastian’s chest. Your eyes were shut as you felt Sebastian play with the fingers of your left hand.

“You’ll still be here for me when I come back right?” He asks, his voice so small and quiet. His question makes your eyes open so you’re staring at the side of his face. He’s focused on your fingers, eyebrows knitted softly together.

You stop his fiddling and interlace your fingers with his. He turns his head to look at you, smiling when he sees you’re looking back at him.

“Of course I will. You don’t even have to ask me twice.” You tell him reassuringly as you scoot closer to him in bed.

“Why?” You ask him, your chin now resting on his shoulder.

“I don’t know. You deserve someone who’ll spend all the time in the world with you. Not, not me. I’m always leaving for work and I barely get to spend any time with you. You deserve someone who wakes up in the same time zone as you and not have to have dates over FaceTime because they keep missing out anniversaries.” He explained as he went back to playing with your fingers. You pull yourself up to rest on your elbow and guide Sebastian’s face to look at you.

“Who says I’m not happy to be in a relationship with you? I understand your job and I know it’s difficult, but in the end we’re gonna see each other again. You make me feel like the luckiest woman in the world. I wouldn’t ask for anyone else, Seb. Trust me, I only want you.” He looks into your eyes and finds nothing but sincerity.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” You place your lips onto his as his thumb runs along the skin of your left ring finger. 

Maybe if I'm lucky, you might stay the afternoon

If you gotta work, just promise me you'll come back soon

Maybe you should pack a suitcase too (Too)

I love the thought of you never leavin' (No)

Days repeatin'

Gettin' steps up on the treadmill while you sleepin'

Never thought I'd believe in love again

The bed shifts underneath you, causing you to stir in your sleep. Sebastian shushes you when he sees you turn to his side. He watches as your arm reaches out for him but instead it’s met with the bed. He audibly awes when he sees you pout and scrunch your face up in your sleep. He kneels onto the bed and runs a hand through your hair before kissing your temple.

“Sebba.” You mumble as you start to wake up. Sebastian hums softly as he strokes your back.

“Go back to sleep, it’s four in the morning.” He’s now sitting on the bed. He wants to stay with you and wake up in the late morning, but he was needed on set.

“Why are you awake? Go back to sleep.” You whine as you shove your face into his pillow.

“Because I have work, baby.”

“Not even a few more minutes?” You huff, eyes finally opening to meet his in the dark.

“I’m taking my few more minutes right now.” He chuckles as he rests his head on your back. The rhythm of your breathing lulling him back to sleep.

“Do you have to go? I want you to stay.”

“Yeah, they need Bucky on set.” He answers as he tries to get you back to sleep. One of his hands are on your back slowly making circles on your back to soothe you to sleep.

“Bucky doesn’t even talk that much, he just runs a lot.” A lazy smile is on your face as Sebastian gasps.

“I’m kidding, you know I love Bucky.” You hum as you snuggle deeper into the covers. Sebastian feels your breathing get deeper, meaning you were drifting off again. 

“I’m gonna get ready.” He whispers to your sleeping figure. He hesitantly gets up from the bed slowly and carefully so you don’t wake up again.

When he’s finished washing himself and putting clothes on for the day he finds you cuddling his pillow. He smiles to himself and leans down to press a kiss on the corner of your lips.

“I love you.” He whispers. He leans back up but feels a tug on his arm. He looks down to see your hand gripping on his wrist while you look up at him through heavy lids.

“Promise me you’ll be back soon?” You ask him quietly. Sebastian leans down again and pecks your lips.

“I promise, I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He tells you as you drift back to sleep.

A hint of a smile is on your lips as you dream about your future with Sebastian. Not having to sleep over at each other’s houses because you guys bought a house together. Him coming home to you and a cooked meal you’d make for him. Then after you guys would watch tv and tell each other about your days. Maybe you’d be up before him in the morning, working out on the treadmill while he caught up on some sleep. The future you envisioned with Sebastian was everything you could ever want. Not now but soon down the road, maybe those imaginations would become reality? It’s just a matter of time until Sebastian gets down one knee and makes it all come true.

iubitel ~ baby, darling

[btsinwonderland]

A Drop of Poison - Ch. 13: Hogsmeade

A Loki fanfiction!

Previous Chapter --- Next Chapter

Full Chapter List

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

It was a brisk fall morning where the first chill of the coming winter snuck up on you. You wrapped your scarf around your neck tighter and yawned. Another restless night passed with terrifying dreams of Fenris and the bloodbath he left behind him.

You stood in a loose huddle of several students outside the entrance doors to the school. There was the sound of chitchat in the air as you all waited for the teachers. The trees swayed in the wind and a yellowing leaf fell in a spiral and landed on your shoulder. Valkyrie walked over to you with a smile on her face as you brushed off the leaf. It faded slightly upon looking at you.

“Are you okay?” she said, watching you.

You nodded with another yawn. “Bad dreams.”

“Dreams...or something else?”

You might have answered her but were cut off when Pom and Nila came up to the both of you. They had excited smiles on their faces.

“I can’t believe we finally get to go to Hogsmeade!” Pom said with a smile.

Nila agreed exuberantly. “I’ve been itching to go to Honeydukes!”

Valkyrie raised a brow. “Don’t forget we have the ball on Wednesday night, ladies. I, for one, am planning on gettin’ some before everything goes to shit.”

Pom looked at Valkyrie wide eyed while Nila blushed. “Getting what?” Pom said.

You and Valkyrie snort-laughed and Nila started giggling. Pom continued to ask Valkyrie what she was talking about when Professor Heimdall and Professor Fandral arrived at the top of the stairs.

Professor Heimdall wore a long tan cloak over his robes and clasped his hands in front of him. “Students, you will be split off into two groups. One with me and one with Professor Fandral. We are incorporating a buddy system, so pick a partner and do not separate from them. This year we were not planning to go to Hogsmeade, but upon reviewing many requests and with careful planning, we believe it is acceptable. What is not acceptable,” he said, passing a look to each student; his eyes lingered on you briefly, “is to leave your buddy, or your group and venture off alone. The grounds are no longer as safe as they were before. Be wise.”

He said no more as Professor Fandral began to split the groups. You, Valkyrie, Nila and Pom excitedly climbed into a carriage, which eventually trailed behind Professor Heimdall’s. His warning stayed with you as you thought about long teeth and hungry eyes. Despite the fear that had permanently settled in the pit of your stomach, you enjoyed feeling the fresh air on your skin as the carriages took off. The wind was cold, but you had not realized how stifling it was in the castle until you had been outside.

You wondered what a carriage ride with Professor Laufeyson would be like. A blush creeped to your cheeks when you thought about detention with him from a couple of nights ago. The word ‘master’ rested on your lips like a secret behind everything else you said out loud. It was just for him. That night, you went back to your room in a heated daze and wondered what you had gotten yourself into. But the more you thought about it, the more your heart raced with want. You enjoyed calling him master, and you liked the way he looked at you when you did.

“What is going on in that head of yours?” Valkyrie said, elbowing you.

You jerked upright and smiled bashfully. “Nothing, I’m just thinking about what to wear.”

Just then, Pom and Nila deep dived into their clothing assessments and what was in season versus not. You absolutely had no idea how they had obtained this information, but appreciated the feedback. After a long lecture about colour coordination and matching shoes and accessories while balancing complementary colour contrast, the carriages finally arrived at Hogsmeade.

The four of you stuck together and plowed your way through Hogsmeade in a thorough fashion. First you visited Honeydukes, which was decorated completely in black for the season; it was as if the whole shop were dipped in an inkwell. Nila bought an entire bag worth of chocolate frogs, Burtie Botts, every flavour beans, blood pops (to which you wrinkled your nose), and cauldron cakes. Valkyrie bought bouncing bubbly which was a soft drink that made her bounce as if she was on the moon. The novelty wore off quickly since Valkyrie quite enjoyed bouncing above you and smacking your head. You were relieved once you entered Gladrags; there was a strict no enchantment policy and Valkyrie had to stand outside until the effects wore off. The three of you snickered and gave her a mock wave through the window. As she bounced in place, she mouthed: “I could murder you in your sleep, you know.”

You laughed and walked into the store, looking at the various fabrics and clothes they had on display. There were enchanted mannequins walking through the store and dancing every now and again for the customers. A small girl tugged at her father’s coat and pointed to a model just a few inches taller than her. Its face was a flat piece of wood and the thing danced around the girl, doing a pirouette with the bright green dress it was wearing along the way. The girl was mesmerised. You smiled and had to give credit to Gladrags; they knew how to market.

Pom and Nila immediately ran to the hats section where there were shelves upon shelves of all sorts of hats. Plumes of feathers stuck to the side of a large orange hat, while another was a green beret seemingly constructed of snakeskin. One hat seemed to have no set shape or colour, but was a fluid moving thing that sparkled when the light hit it. All the hats were magnificent, though you were never much of a hat person. You went to the back, near the sale items, to see if there was anything that you could afford. It had been quite a year gathering enough money to meet your supplies and tuition costs for the year. You hoped that once you aced all your exams, a scholarship or internship could be earned. Though once you saw Professor Laufeyson’s memories, your thoughts about joining the ministry were on pause.

As if the devil himself heard, you heard a familiar voice from your left.

“Good morning, Miss Eves,” Professor Laufeyson said.

You flinched, nearly knocking over a nearby twirling mannequin which actually hissed at you. “Professor! What are you doing here?”

His eyes narrowed, and he looked as if you had committed a grave mistake. “What was that?”

“I-” You thought about it for a moment. Ah yes….your voice got lower, “Master, what are you doing here?”

He lit up and smiled at you. You wondered if you would ever get used to that.

“I have some business to attend to,” he said.

It was hard not to roll your eyes at how insanely cryptic he was. You were about to question further, but Valkyrie came.

“Professor! Fancy seeing you here,” she said, looking between you and him. You tried to put on your most neutral expression.

“Hogsmeade used to be quite the haunt for me when I was a student here,” Professor Laufeyson said, glancing out the window. “I particularly enjoyed Zonko’s. Well, are you young ladies finding dresses for the ball?”

“Yes!” Pom said from behind a rack of clothes. “And we found the perfect one for you, Freya,” she said, bringing out a frilly dark purple dress that had a mermaid style bottom and an attached cloak that looked more like a cape.

Valkyrie gasped with laughter when you took the dress and promised Pom you would try it on. You thanked her and elbowed Valkyrie. Professor Laufeyson looked as if he was trying to conceal a small smile.

The other girls left in a mad dash when Nila spotted a row of silk scarves that were on sale. Valkyrie went with them, giving you a strange look that showed you would be interrogated very soon.

“You better go try on that aubergine of a dress,” Professor Laufeyson said with a smirk.

You laughed. “I think I’m going to go with my outfit from last year,” you said, putting the purple nightmare back on the rack. “These new fashion trends are getting out of hand, they’re not for me.”

Professor Laufeyson grabbed your hand and pulled you towards him. Your heart raced as he held your face in his hand. You prayed no one saw you. “Nothing here could do justice to the body underneath these clothes,” he said, his voice husky. Just as you leaned in towards him, he pulled away. You made the tiniest annoyed sound, and he chuckled.

He said goodbye, and you joined up with the girls to continue on their shopping spree. Nila had gotten a peach coloured dress that had a tight waist and billowing skirt. Pom got a short purple dress that was clean cut and cute. Valkyrie got a crimson dress that had a courageous slit down the side and a neckline that wound around her neck in a halter top. Your stomachs rumbled loudly, so the four of you headed into the Three Broomsticks, a pub down the road. Since Hogsmeade knew well that Hogwarts students were coming in today, they allowed minors into the pub.

You sat at a table and were surprised to see Professor Laufeyson sitting rather reluctantly with Professor Heimdall and Professor Fandral. They did not see the four of you slip into the booth just behind them, a wall between you. There was enough chatter in the pub to conceal your voices, though you kept it down just enough to hear what the teachers were saying.

Someone cleared their throat. You recognized Heimdall’s voice; it was rich and deep. “Loki, how is your semester going so far?”

Professor Laufeyson’s voice was effortless, as usual. “Teaching is such a noble profession, I ought to have tried it much earlier in life.”

“You were missing from the staff meeting last Saturday,” Heimdall said. His words asked without stating explicitly, why?

Professor Laufeyson let out a small laugh. “I had to drop everything and come here after Hubert’s passing, so when I can I must tie up some loose ends.”

“What might Loki Laufeyson’s loose ends be, I wonder?” Heimdall said, his voice low.

The server came by and dropped off drinks at their table. He then came to your table and took your orders. The other girls had lost interest at this point and began chatting, but you craned your neck to the edge of the wall to keep listening.

“...yes, I will be in and out after the ball. Business to attend to before we dive head first into midterms,” Professor Laufeyson said.

He was leaving? You wondered. He had told you he would not go after Fenris until the coldest night of winter, and you believed that. Your fingers tapped nervously, thinking about what else he was up to. Aside from seeing him in class and detention, you had no way of knowing where he was or what he was doing. It was not as if he was even remotely communicative about his life. The most you knew about him was from breaking into his memory bank like a thief in the night.

The conversation shifted to Professor Fandral talking about his wife and children and how difficult it was to leave them for semesters at a time. Eventually, their chairs shuffled and the four of you put your heads down and ate your meals. Your shepherd’s pie had gone cold but was still quite delicious.

About an hour later, you were back in the school, heading to your common room, evading Valkyrie so she would not ask you about Professor Laufeyson. You were just not ready to have any sort of proper conversation about it yet. You had no idea what was happening, and a part of you felt immensely guilty about the whole thing. At least if it was your personal secret, you could chalk it up to a delusion or dream and still function properly. But once you verbalized it, it was real. Far too real for anything you wanted to deal with now.

In the hall, you spotted a ghostly figure running towards you. Well, half of a ghostly figure. The legs and torso of Crazy Collin ran past you in a gust of cool air. A few minutes later, you saw the upper part floating by.

“‘Ave you seen me legs?” he said. His translucent face was even younger than you.

You pointed behind you. “They went that way.” You smiled as he waved at you and floated onwards in search of his legs. He was always found roaming the halls searching for the bottom half of his body, and it was a fun game that occupied most first years, helping Crazy Collin find his legs.

Suddenly, you thought about Pom’s brother Ken, who now had a missing arm, and your smile disappeared. Most of the time you had laughed at the ghosts of Hogwarts, but you realized they were all people once who had died an awful death. The thought both sobered and saddened you.

***

The next day you were seated in potions class with Pom next to you, taking notes on the use of a bezoar. Professor Laufeyson had put on a slideshow and you tried not to yawn, though his voice was like melted honey.

Something hit the side of your head and fell at your feet. You glanced around before picking it up.

“What is it?” Pom whispered.

It was a crumpled piece of paper and upon unrolling it, you saw an enchanted drawing of two stick figures dancing. One of them had two circles for its breasts and an arrow pointing to the figure that said “You” and the other stick figure had an arrow that said “Me”. You looked up and saw Nathan Gill, the sixth year Quidditch announcer, smiling at you. He pointed to you, then he mimed a little slow dance, and then pointed to himself, all the while mouthing the words, “Do you want to go to the ball with me?”

The paper was snatched from your hand before you could react and you were horrified to see Professor Laufeyson standing over you with a grim expression. “Passing notes in class?” He said with a touch of venom. After reading the note aloud in class for everyone to laugh at, he took five points from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff.

“Harsh,” Pom said, and you did not reply.

At the end of class, you escaped out the door before meeting Professor Laufeyson’s eye, since you were far too embarrassed. Then Nathan found you.

“So, Eves, you want to go with me?” He said, brandishing a daring smile.

He was a year younger than you, though he was taller and his face was not all boyish. His brown eyes held an air of confidence and his dark brown skin glowed in the torchlights. He leaned against the wall next to you, casual yet focused on your face in a way that made you blush. You wished you could seriously consider him. Perhaps if he had come to you only a month earlier, you would not be in this mess at all. A boy like him was normal. A boy like him was far better suited for you. But alas, even though you thought he was invariably handsome and were somewhat attracted to his presence, your heart was doomed to stay in one place.

You smiled at him and were about to speak when Pom piped up out of nowhere, “yes she’s gonna go with you!”

Nathan smiled so brightly that you felt the words escape you. He leaned in and tucked a hair behind your ear. “See you then,” he said in a low voice and walked off with his friends.

Just then, Professor Laufeyson passed by with an icy expression. He glanced at you and Pom as if you were stones on the wall and continued on his way, not giving you another look. Your heart sank while Pom excitedly grabbed your arm. “Oh my god, Gill is so cute! Sorry I stepped in, but I had to! I thought you were going to throw up or say no, so I did what any good friend ought to do.” She smiled at you and you nodded hollowly, wondering what Professor Laufeyson had thought.

You were on your way to the Great Hall for lunch as you puzzled about Nathan. Pom had gone to the infirmary to check on her brother. The staircase you were climbing up moved and pulled you away from your path and down an empty corridor that would add another ten minutes to your walk. A sigh escaped your lips as you continued to wonder. Why would he ask you? You barely talked to him. Once you had given him ink when he ran out, and so perhaps he was just being nice -

A hand grabbed the back of your shirt and pulled you into a room you had not realized was there. The door shut and vanished, leaving only stone, and you were slammed against the wall with a hard body against yours. The familiar scent of flora and musk hit your senses, and you gazed into a pair of cold blue eyes. His hand clasped around your throat as he leaned in and spoke in your ear.

“Did you think you could get away with being such a tease?” Professor Laufeyson said, his voice was a growl.

You dropped your books and panted. “W-what do you mean sir - er, I mean - Master?”

“That boy was all over you like a dog. Did you hope to make me jealous?”

“I didn’t mean to,” you said. Fear bubbled in your stomach at his aggression, but more than that was another feeling...One that was going to get you into deep trouble. Your cheeks flushed, and you felt desire bloom within you. The feeling of his hand on your throat only made it worse - or better - and you felt your core tighten.

He laughed darkly and for a moment; you wondered if it had all been a joke. Then his eyes grew fierce, and he stopped smiling. “It worked.”

You gazed up at him and licked your lips reflexively. His pupils dilated, and he lost his composure. His lips collided with yours and you felt the heat of his breath against you. They were the softest lips you had ever felt, but they crashed onto yours with a ferocity that made your knees weak. He pushed you into the wall to deepen the kiss and you wound your hands around him, one hand reaching up to the back of his head.

He moved his free hand down and cupped your bottom. You raised your right leg around his waist, which he held in place. Your tongues clashed, and you licked his lips as if you were back in a dream. He lifted your other leg, so you were now pinned against the wall, straddling him. He pushed into you and you wrapped your arms around him tightly. There were no thoughts, only the feeling of his fingers digging into your body as his mouth invaded yours. When you felt his erection against your core, a cry escaped your lips. He rubbed it against you once more and you bit his lip, hard.

He chuckled and gently pulled away from you, easing you down. You gazed at each other as if your eyes were magnetically locked. Both of you panted and wiped the corners of your mouth. “You’ve grown quite...assertive, Miss Eves,” he said in a rough voice. He tried to put on a candid act, but you saw through it. He was trying to suppress his desire.

You stepped towards him and put a hand on his chest. “I don’t want to go to the ball with anybody else,” you said.

His face froze, not knowing what to show you. So he chuckled and spun you around, putting a hand on your collarbone. His thumb grazed your throat, and you wondered if flames would erupt across your skin. “You will go to the ball with this boy,” he said. And he licked your ear and bit the lobe. You closed your eyes and nearly moaned. “You will dance with him, have a drink, and do what young women do at balls,” he said as he moved his other hand to your waist, squeezing it. “And at the end of the night, you will come to my room, and I will punish you for all of it. Do we have an understanding?”

Breathlessly, you said, “yes Master.”

He let go of you and bowed slightly, as if you were a proper lady and not the girl he just ravished against the wall. “Good girl,” he said with a wink.

You were thrown so back and forth with his words that your lust had slowly transformed into a deep hunger...and your stomach growled unceremoniously, loudly. He chuckled at the sound as you crossed your arms around yourself, trying to block out the noise.

“Perhaps we should return to the Great Hall and get you well fed. You need to keep up your energy for the ball,” he said.

You looked around at your surroundings. It was an empty stone room with no doors and a large chandelier in the ceiling. “Where are we?”

He waved his hand at the wall closest to you and a wooden door appeared. “This is the room of requirement,” he said. “It is a room that only appears when you are in great need of it, and it also becomes the room that you need.”

You raised your brows as you passed through the door with him into the empty hall. The door disappeared as if the room was not there. You touched the stone and knocked on it, but it was just a continuous wall. “Just when I thought this place had finished amazing me,” you said.

“Hogwarts will never cease to amaze, love,” Professor Laufeyson said. He stopped when you got to the stairs. “Now, I bid you farewell until the ball. Be sure to get into heaps of trouble,” he said, smirking.

“Oh, I will,” you said with a wide smile. The butterflies flowed freely through your body and you felt electrified. Suddenly, the ball had gotten much more exciting and you could not wait for Wednesday night.

You ran down the corridor, back to the main level, where several students ran past you. The smell of food wafted through the halls and your stomach grumbled more, so you picked up the pace. Another scent caught your nose, and you wondered what it was, since it definitely was not food. As you walked, you realized that the floor was covered in water. Puzzled, you entered the main corridor which led to the Great Hall and found a large crowd of students standing there.

You spotted Valkyrie ahead of you, so you pushed your way through several students, mumbling an apology, and tapped her shoulder. She looked at you grimly and gestured to the wall with her eyes. When your gaze followed, you stepped back with a hand to your chest. There was a message on the wall, written in blood. The nauseating scent of iron was thick in the air. The message wrote:

The beast has awakened...Enemies of the heir, beware...

[mrsalwayswrite]

Say You’ll Stay - Chapter 9

Fury/Band of Brothers Crossover Fic

There are a million excuses I could give as to why its taken me so long to update. So I will simply say- writer’s block. Here we are though! 

Tag List: @happyveday​ @alwaysindecemberfeels​ @saritanotserena​

Series Masterlist

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He did not know what to do. He knew what he wanted to do. He knew what he should do. But when those two options were at odds, that left him in the quandary of what to actually do. 

 Either way, Anna was in trouble and did not even know it yet. 

 "Fuck." He muttered to himself. 

 "Something to add, Sergeant Collier?"

 Don looked over to meet the stern, blue eyes of Captain Winters. "No, sir."

 The redheaded captain stared at the tank commander for a moment before continuing speaking to the other officers in HQ. "This town here is a key point for supplies for the Germans. There is a railroad next to the town that intelligence says is crucial to them. Once we get control of the town, we'll secure it until 1st Battalion can relieve us." Winters said, pointing at a spot on the map laid across the table. 

 Don glanced back out the window, watching Captain Evans walk away from the HQ building. It had been three days since they arrived in Haguenau, and Captain Evans planned on leaving in two more. 

 The dark-haired intelligence officer began speaking next. "Our sources say it's only infantry there. It seems most of the tanks have been recalled back to Germany. Either way, we expect resistance but as to how much, we aren't sure."

 "That's why we are sending the Armored Division with you. Sergeant Collier will lead the four tanks in assistance." Winters said. "They will follow behind. At this point we've been asked to minimize damage to property but I will not trade it for lives. Understand?"

 A chorus of "yes, sir" answered him. 

 "Excellent. Fox Company will lead the assault with some of Dog Company in reserve. Have your men ready, you leave at oh-six hundred tomorrow. Any questions?"

 Don tried to focus on the rest of the discussion. He was leading his platoon for fuck's sake into another fight, but his thoughts kept drifting to Captain Evans leaving and what that meant. 

 Anna would be leaving too. 

 She had been sent to stay with Captain Evans, to be a medic and translator. She was never supposed to come to Haguenau. Don was never supposed to give a fuck about her. Their brief encounters back at that field hospital were supposed to be the extent of their interactions. Yet here he was. Worried for her safety. He and his crew were leaving tomorrow for the next fight. Captain Evans would leave the next day to start pushing into Germany. 

 His mind whirled with questions. Who would protect Anna? Who would make sure she ate and slept? Who would make sure she was looking out for herself just as much as her patients? 

 Don barely heard the dismissal from Captain Winters. The shuffling of feet and low cadence of voices heading towards the door thrust him back into reality from his dark thoughts. Without a word or acknowledging the paratroopers he would be working with, he headed out of the Battalion HQ and walked towards his lodgings. His mind raced with more questions than answers.  

 He knew what he wanted to do. 

 He knew what he should do. 

 Both options made him clench his jaw and want to punch a hole in a wall. 

 He trudged back to the house, throwing open the door, uncaring of the way it slammed into the wall. Stepping towards the common room, he saw Davis, Binkowski, Grady and a few others playing cards on a short table. A few others lounged around in the sunny room. 

 "What's the news, Wardaddy?" Binkowski asked, keeping his eyes on the cards in his hand. 

 "Leaving tomorrow. Oh-six hundred. Make sure your men got their shit together."

 "You alright, Don?" 

 He had not even heard Boyd come around the corner from the kitchen. His sharp gaze landed on his gunner, who was watching him warily. "Yeah, fucking fine." He snapped; his frustration was a writhing mess of snakes in his gut. 

 Christ, he needed some peace and quiet and a cigarette. Don stormed through the common room to head up the stairs, uncaring of the confused looks around him. In his haste to leave, he accidently bumped a flimsy chair someone must have left out. It just caught him at the right angle and dug into his side, nothing painful but just enough to infuriate him even more. He had not even realized how angry he was until the chair caught him, but it was the catalyst that released the pent-up frustration. 

 With a snarl, he grabbed the back of the chair and threw it against the wall. The sounds of wood snapping and breaking filled the now silent room. Without a word, without stopping, because if one person said something to him, he would beat the fucking shit out of them, he stalked up the stairs to his shared room. 

 After throwing the door open, he kicked it shut. The solid boom of the door slammed back only made him want to do it again and again. Instead he moved to drop onto the bed, sitting on the edge and quickly lit a cigarette. He took a long drag, the smoke immediately bringing some relief to him. 

 He was surprised Norman was not in the bedroom. When he left for the meeting, Norman had been curled up in the bed sleeping still. At first, he thought Norman slept so much because he was sick. Now he was beginning to wonder if the kid absorbed sleep like a desert soaking up a rainstorm; the rarity of it making it harder to ignore and easier to overindulge. 

 It could not have been even two minutes later when the bedroom door slowly opened. Don dropped his head in one of his hands, the other still holding the cigarette. 

 "Wanna explain what that was?"

 "Not now, Boyd." Don hissed, not looking up. 

 The gunner rocked back on his heels, the floorboards creaking under the motion. "A'right. Well, I'm just gonna be right here when you ready to talk."

 He chuckled darkly. Five minutes. He could not even get five fucking minutes alone. He tried to ignore Boyd as he stared out the window. 

 "Where's Norman?" He finally asked after taking another hit of his cigarette. 

 "Gordo took 'im to the aid station to see Anna."

 "She's not coming here?"

 "Dunno."

 "Fuck." Don whispered, rubbing a hand over his face. He suddenly felt like he should be in his sixties or seventies, not just recently turned thirty. His mind played over the past three days since they arrived in Haguenau. Besides that first day of their arrival, Anna had been over every day. He knew it was mostly to check in on Norman and make sure his cold did not worsen but she usually ended up staying for some time or if someone could convince or threaten her enough, she would also catch up on some sleep. During that time he had become so used to seeing her around, it felt strange to question if she was coming back or not. In his mind, she was a part of his crew, and he was positive he was not the only one to feel that way. 

 He needed her safe. 

 That was what everything seemed to come back to for him. He cared about her safety, like he would any of his crew. Except he knew, he wanted to be the one to keep her safe. To keep her gentle smile on him. To be the one she turned to. He felt like a moth drawn to her flame. 

 He knew what he needed to do. He doubted she was going to like it. Hell, if they got caught he wondered if he would lose his rank by going behind the backs of his superiors. He had to do something though. He had to keep her safe. Well, as safe as anyone could be while at war. 

 He knew the truth though- he wanted her close….to him. 

 With a groan, he stuck the cigarette between his lips then pushed against his knees to stand up. 

 "Where you goin'?"

 "Stay here."

 Boyd stood up, blocking the door. "What's goin' on, Don?"

 He debated just pushing Boyd out of the way before shaking his head. "Captain Evans leaves in two days."

 "Uh huh. Anna mentioned somethin' about the wounded finally being moved to a field hospital today. Probably why she ain't here."

 "We leave tomorrow." Don flatly stated. 

 Boyd's eyebrows drew together. "I feel like I'm missin' somethin'."

 "Anna is supposed to go with Evans. That was why she was sent."

 He could see the light bulb go off in Boyd's mind when what Don said finally clicked. His eyes widened, a myriad of emotions flickered across his face ranging from horror to frustration and what could be despair.

 "What…." Boyd stopped, looking off to the side and taking a deep breath before turning back to his commander. "What we gonna do?"

 "I'll take care of it."

 "Don…."

 "Stay here, Boyd. Start gettin' ready to leave tomorrow. I won't be gone long." This time he did gently push Boyd out of the way and with a long look, he stalked out of the room, down the stairs and outside. 

 He made his way to the aid station, only having to jump behind a building once to avoid a mortar. This was his first time coming to the aid station in Haguenau, having had no reason prior to come. He was pleased it was in better shape than most of the other buildings and further back from the river and Nazis. 

 Soon as he stepped through, he was hit with the smell of sanitation, coffee, and dried blood. 

 "Where's the nurse?" He growled at a pair of medics who stared at him like he was the grim reaper come to take their souls. One pointed towards the back. Don stormed in that direction, boots pounding on the wood floor. 

 He arrived at what most likely had been someone's study or library prior to the war but had been converted to the aid station. His gaze zeroed in on her folding up some blankets while she chatted with a medic. He stalked towards her. She only turned her head to look up at him as he was within five feet of her. 

 "Don?" The sweet smile on her face immediately faded away as she took in the serious expression he wore. 

 "We need to talk." He stated, moving to stand beside her. 

 "Of course, let me…"

 "No. Now." He grabbed her upper arm and started to pull her from the room. The other medic started to say something but snapped his mouth shut at the icy glare Don sent him. 

 "What's going on?"

 He ignored her question, looking down at her once they were in the hallway. "Where can we speak in private?" 

 "Upstairs." 

 Once she seemed to sense his urgency, he allowed her to lead him up the stairs and into a room that seemed to be used by the medics to store their personal effects. Two cots were pushed against opposite walls, both empty thankfully. Soon as he shut the door behind them, he rounded on her. 

 "You need to hide."

 "Ex....excuse me?" She stuttered, sapphire eyes peering up at him, wide and unblinking.  

 "Captain Evans plans on leaving the day after tomorrow."

 "We heard. One of the lieutenants stopped by after the wounded were taken to inform us. Why does…"

 He cut her off. "My crew and I are being sent out. We leave tomorrow. I don't know how soon we'll be back. So, you need to hide until Captain Evans leaves."

 "I don't.… I don't understand, Don."

 "Fuck!" He moved closer to her, grabbing both of her upper arms, his hands wrapping completely around them. "Listen. I can't protect you if you are in some other goddamn country. You can't leave with the Captain, alright? You stay here. You stay low and you'll get left behind. When we come back, I'll take care of you."

 "But…. I mean, I'll be fine. The men are….um…. It’ll work out. I'm more worried about you and the others. You are going into a fight!"

 "Fuck them and fuck the fight!" He shouted, moving away before he shook her, trying to make her understand. How could she not see what he was trying to do? "I don't trust those bastards to keep their hands off you! And you shouldn't either! Who's going to look out for you? Huh? Who's going to make sure they don't lay a fucking finger on you?! Cause I can promise you, it won't fucking be them!"

 He stood in front of her, chest heaving from the anger rolling through him like a tsunami wave. Only now, after his words spewed out like vitriol did he witness the effect. The tears that welled in her eyes, how one of her hands covered her mouth, the other wrapped around her torso almost in a self-hug. 

 "Anna…" Resentment towards himself flooded through his veins. Slowly he tried to reach out to her, to place a hand on her shoulder with an apology dancing on the tip of his tongue, but froze when she flinched.

 And that hurt worse than being pierced with a bullet. 

 He made no further move towards her, afraid of her reaction. Frustrated at everything but mostly himself in the moment, he ran his hands through his hair. 

 Her gaze had dropped to the floorboards, hunched into herself. Finally after several seconds, she whispered. "What do you want from me, Don?"

 What did he want from her? Hell, if he was still trying to come to terms with that answer himself. In the moment, he chose to honestly answer. 

 "I want you safe."

 His equally soft reply made her head jerk up, eyes meeting his. "Why?"

 "You're a part of my crew...and I swore to make sure they survive this war. I can't do that if you're in another company."

 "Is that the only reason?"

 Did she know how loaded that question was? How this growing tension between the two of them grated on him? Not because he disliked it. No. Because he wanted her closer. But this was war, and no one was guaranteed tomorrow. So he answered with something that tasted like a half-truth. "The only one that matters right now."

 She sniffled, wiping away the moisture from her eyes with her dainty fingers. 

 As if approaching an injured animal, he carefully shifted closer to her. Seeing the tears in her eyes broke what resolve he meagerly held. He hated that he made her cry, made her flinch. It tore at his soul. Something his mind demanded he fix, for both of them.

 Hesitantly, he reached forward and clasped her hands in his. She inhaled sharply, but only tightened her grip on his hands. The air between them felt charged with something unnamed but powerful. The way their gazes locked, hands holding each other, as if they had been put under a spell neither wished to escape. 

 "I need you safe, darling…." He murmured, the words flowing out of him without his conscious approval. Only after did they hang in the air, waiting to stoke the fire between them or shatter everything like glass. 

 "Darling?" The corners of her lips turned up in a barely-there smile. 

 He huffed a short laugh. "That alright?"

 "Yes." She answered with a blush growing on her cheeks. 

 And damn if that sight didn't stir something within him. Following his instincts, he gently tugged her closer, pulling her into a warm embrace, beyond pleased when she practically melted against him. His arms went around her back while her arms wrapped around his waist. Her cheek laid against the middle of his chest and he wondered if she could hear it pounding within him. Not for the first time was he reminded how small and vulnerable she seemed, tucked against his body now. He knew and witnessed how strong she truly was though. Faced with blood and death and distraught, she still persevered. 

 She sighed after some time, neither attempting to end the embrace. "I'll try to hide but I don't know where I could. All the medics know I'm here. Arthur and the others will be expecting me to join them especially after losing…" Her voice trailed off. 

 He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "We'll figure it out. I promise." 

 "I trust you." They continued to stand there, finding solace in one another but also a silent understanding between them. Of affections that were too dangerous to say aloud but still lingered in the air. A few seconds later, her whisper disturbed the peace. "I'm so tired of this war."

 "Me too."

 A knock on the door broke their moment but when Anna tried to step away from Don, he only held her tighter, unwilling to give her up but also wanting to protect her. He watched the door open to reveal a medic, who although his face seemed calm, there was an undercurrent of tension in the way he clenched his jaw and the shifting of his eyes as he immediately took in the scene before him. 

 "Chérie? Everythin' alright? Spina said he 'eard yellin'."

 Only when she turned to face the medic did Don let her go. "Yes. I'm sorry, Gene. It's nothing.... just a misunderstanding."

 "Mmm." The medic glanced back down the hallway then stepped inside the room, closing the door behind him. "Someone wanna tell me what's goin' on?"

 Don immediately recognized the name Gene. She had referenced him multiple times when she had been over taking care of Norman. By the way she spoke about him, Don picked up that she trusted him and they were friendly. Perhaps he had an ally here after all. 

 "Are you able to hide her?" He asked bluntly, knowing his time was running short to figure out a plan. 

 Gene's eyebrows scrunched together. "What?"

 "Don, no... it’s fine," she answered at the same time, placing a hand on his arm, "I'll figure out something."

 "Nah, chérie." Gene looked back over to Don, expression reserved but determined. "What do ya mean?"

 Don quickly explained the situation, impressed by the medic with the thick accent and how he absorbed the information thrown at him without too many questions. 

 Gene nodded once at the end, gaze downward as he ran his tongue over his teeth. Finally, he looked up at the two. "I know somewhere. They got some extra room. Lemme talk to their Sergeant first."

 Anna's gaze bounced between the two men, clearly unable to believe what she was hearing. "We can't do this. We'll get…. I don't want to cause more problems or get people in trouble. What happens when your Captain finds out?"

 Gene shrugged. "Winters is a good man. He might not like it but he'll understand." He paused, tapping a finger on his crossed arms. "I'll go now. Anna, stay here, get ya things gathered. We'll bring ya over tonight."

 She stared at both of them again before Don could visibly see her acceptance when her shoulders sagged. With a roll of her eyes, she gave the medic a cheeky salute. "Yes, sir."

 "Fille effrontée." He grinned. 

 She blew him an air kiss that made him shake his head, a small grin on his lips. The two men nodded at each other once more before the medic slipped back out. 

 Once alone again, she turned back around, placing her hands on his chest, peering up at him earnestly. "Be safe, please...tell the others for me too."

 "I will." 

 This time he leaned down as she rose up on her toes to press a kiss to his jawline. His hands tightened on her waist, where they had landed. Instead of immediately pulling back after she fell back onto her flat feet, he lingered. Hovering over her, he cupped her cheek, guiding her head. She was completely pliant under his touch, allowing him to tilt her face until their noses almost touched. He was spellbound, staring down at her. Her gentle breaths sliding across his mouth tantalizingly. It was the soft adoration and trust in her sapphire eyes that pulled in his chest and stole the breath from his lungs. She was too good, too pure for someone like him. Yet he could not draw away from her, captured in her tender affections, left breathless by her kindness. Turning his face just slightly, he could feel the corner of her mouth against his, her warm breath hitting his cheek. 

 "I should go." He whispered, without moving away. 

 Her hands slid up to the nape of his neck, causing him to suppress a low groan as her chest pressed against his. "Don, please come back." Her words pierced his heart. 

 "I will, I promise." This time he brushed his lips over hers. It was just a moment, the faintest of touches but the spark it ignited in him felt like an inferno awakening. 

 Abruptly he pulled back, turned on his heels and walked out. If he stayed any longer, she would be in his arms, his mouth devouring hers, her back pressed against the nearest wall. He had half a mind to turn back and do that just now. But he kept walking. Why she held any affections for him left him boggled. She deserved better than him. He wanted her though. Christ above, he wanted her. It was becoming a truth he could not ignore. 

 And that barely-there kiss only proved it. 

 *****

 Anna followed behind Gene as they headed to a different building, supposedly where she would stay hidden. She worried all of this would blow up in their faces eventually, that the men would get in trouble because of her, that she would be sent away to a company she did not know. Would the army count this as desertion? Fears and concerns tormented her mind, but it was too late now. Her feet were already planted firmly on the path. Physically and metaphorically. 

 Gene had told her that she would stay with the paratrooper platoon until after Captains Evans and his company left. The Cajun medic had already started a rumor along with Spina, who seemed to be enjoying all this espionage a little too much, that she had been sent to assist a family living just outside of Haguenau where the wife was in labor with her first child. It would explain why she was only gone for a short time and as to why her sudden disappearance. Plus, Gene reasoned it sounded like something she would do. She could not blame him there. It would be. 

 So now, they walked in the late hours of the night, moonlight highlighting the ground beneath their feet. The ill-fitting ODs, the coat from a dead soldier and her medic satchel were the only things she owned. All of her other possessions and clothing had blown up when the medic truck was hit during the surprise attack. She desperately tried not to think about that fact. She was alive and with no injuries. Twenty-two men lost their lives that day. Her few belongings were minimal compared to that. 

 She still missed her book though. 

 Gene did not even knock when they reached the damaged house. Quietly, he opened the door and shifted so she could walk in first. The wooden floorboards creaked beneath her feet, making her freeze for a moment. Only after a word of encouragement from Gene did she continue. As she stepped in, she could hear the murmuring of voices suddenly fall silent. Knowing Gene was at her side and he trusted these men, she took a deep breath before taking another step forward. 

 She rounded the corner from the entryway and towards what must have been a common room before the war. There were three men, two sitting on beat-up looking couches and one standing. The moonlight shining through the window cast everything in deep shadows. Somehow it felt appropriate for all that these men had been through. How they were still waiting for the sun to shine on them again, to beat back the shadows and nightmares and remind them to hope and dream of the future without war hovering over them like a furie.

 It was as she met the gaze of the one standing, staring at her, that she could feel tears well up in her eyes. He looked so world-weary, as if he had not slept in years and all peace had abandoned him. His eyes once so bright with laughter and life were now dull. His once expressive face was now weathered and closed-off. Only his red hair looked the same. It broke her heart. 

 "Donnie…." She softly said. 

 The corners of his lips lifted up at the nickname she bestowed upon him so long ago. "Hi, Anna."

 Without warning or a care for his reaction, she flew across the room. She threw her arms around him, the top of her head just at his chin. A few tears spilled as he seemed to hesitate at her action, as if he had forgotten what a hug was, as if he no longer understood how to be comforted. Then slowly his arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer to his chest. 

 "I'm so sorry, Donnie." She mumbled against him, fighting a losing battle against the tears flooding her eyes. "Muck and Penkala…. they were the best of men. I'm so sorry. And for the others too." 

 He stiffened at the names of his deceased best friends. She could feel the shudder that ran through him, the soft sob he forced back. "Not…. not your fault." He finally whispered, a faint quiver in his voice. 

 She pulled back to meet his eyes, uncaring of the tear tracks staining her cheeks. Carefully she moved her hands to cup his face between them, forcing his gaze to stay on hers. "If you need to talk, I'll listen. Or just cry. Or hold your hand. I'll do it, without any questions."

 "Sure."

 "I'm serious."

 "I know. You sound like you've been hanging out with Doc Roe too much." He teased, forcing back the pain in his voice. A slight squeeze of her hand let her know he appreciated her words. 

 She giggled, sliding out of his embrace to glance at Gene, who had moved to sit next to another redhead on one of the couches. "He does start to rub off on you, can't decide if he's a good influence or a bad one."

 Gene scowled at her, making her giggle more. 

 "Who's the dame? Easy taking female paratroopers now?" The other redhead asked, his Philly accent unmistakable. 

 "Nah, this is Anna Cooper, a nurse. She's gonna stay with ya fellas for a couple days." Gene said casually. 

 The redhead's eyebrows were furrowed as his gaze darted from Gene to Anna and back. "Why?"

 "I just missed Donnie here so much." She smiled up at the man, who just gave her an awkward smile, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

 "Uh huh. So, what's the real fucking reason?" The third man asked, twirling a cigarette between his fingers. 

 "Joe, nothing you need to worry about right now." Malarkey answered. 

 Anna wondered if Gene expected the whole platoon to know of her existence there and why or only Donnie and himself. That was probably something she should have asked before their arrival but her mind was too caught up in its tornado of fears. 

 "How do you two know each other?" The other redhead asked, now eyeing her like she was a rare specimen. 

 Roe sighed, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his thighs. "She was in Albourne with us medics when we were training before the jump into Normandy."

 "Donnie here also took me on a date." Anna blurted out, a smile on her lips. 

 "What?" The one Malarkey had called 'Joe' stared with his jaw dropped. "A'ight, now I gotta hear this." 

 Malarkey rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as he looked down at her. "Not sure I'd call that a date, Anna."

 "Mmm...it's a date when you kiss the girl after, right?"

 For a beat there was shocked silence before the two on the couches started laughing, Roe just shook his head and muttered something to himself. 

 "Holy shit, Anna…" Malarkey rubbed a hand over his face. If there had been more light, his face most likely would have matched the color of his hair. "I thought we agreed never to mention it ever again?"

 "It wasn't that bad, Donnie."

 "Yes, it was. That damn shovel almost broke my nose. You had to walk me to the aid station instead of me walking you home."

 "I mean.... when you say it like that." Anna teased. 

 "Shit, I really need to hear this now." 

 "Babe, no." Malarkey pointed his finger at the other redhead then moved it to the other man. "Joe, not a word."

 The one, Joe, shrugged, a smirk on his face. "How come I don't remember this?"

 "Cause you was in London chasin' skirts and gettin' in fights that weekend." Gene stated evenly. "It's late, I need to head back to the aid station. Malarkey, where is Anna stayin'?"

 "Right. This way." Malarkey led the way with Anna and Gene following up a set of stairs and down the hallway to a bedroom. "Supposed to be for officers I guess but since we don't have any…. the door locks too."

 "Thank you, Donnie." She smiled up at the man, someone she had thought she would never see again. It was funny how fate had brought Easy Company back into her life. Moving further into the room, she was pleased to find a single bed pressed against the wall and a desk across from it. Otherwise the room was completely bare of any other furniture or decorations. 

 "Ya ok here, chérie?" Gene leaned against the desk, arms crossed over his chest. 

 "Yes."

 "Good, good. One question then." Gene paused, an intensity in his eyes that startled her. "What's ya relationship with that Sergeant?"

 In the middle of slipping the coat off, she froze, having not been expecting that question. Her mind raced with trying to find an adequate answer. Although it felt futile. How could she describe her relationship with Sergeant Don Collier? Not that there was a relationship, per se, even if memories of their last encounter sprung forth in her mind's eye. Even though they had not known each other long, he was someone she found herself trusting wholeheartedly and feeling safe around. The loyalty of his men inspired her. The brutality of war was evident in the way he carried himself, the shifting of his eyes and the perpetual frown on his face when he was thinking. Yet he still cared. He still went out of his way to take care of a nurse who meant nothing to him. How when he was close by, her heart beat a little faster and butterflies danced in her belly. On more than one occasion, as she laid down waiting for sleep to find her, she wondered what his kiss would feel like. 

 Finally, she settled with a glossed over version, hoping Gene would be satisfied with just that. "Um....we don't…. he’s just looking out for me. Him and his crew kind of took me in."

 "Mmm….and when I walked into him holdin' ya in his arms, lookin' ready to kiss ya?"

 "It's....it's not like that."

 Malarkey spoke up, leaning against the doorframe. "Who’s this Sergeant?"

 "In charge of the armored division." Gene answered, dark eyes staring at her as if to sift the secrets out of her words and wide eyes. 

 "Don's just looking out for me…. him and his crew, they've, well, they've protected me several times already from…. others." She finished lamely, wrapping her arms around herself, trying to push the memories away. 

 He must have sensed her discomfort. "Alright, chérie, just be careful."

 She nodded. She appreciated his concern but felt it was misplaced. 

 "Don, huh? Do you call him Donnie too?" Malarkey broke the following silence. 

 She rolled her eyes but smiled at the slight change of subject. "No, only you get that nickname."

 "Lucky me. So, is he a redhead too? You have a thing for the name Don?"

 She covered her face as her cheeks warmed. 

 "Ya two can discuss this tomorrow." Gene pushed off the desk. "I'll come get ya the day after tomorrow. If ya need anythin', send someone to get me."

 She dropped the coat at the end of the bed and moved to give him a quick hug. "Thank you, Cajun angel."

 He rolled his eyes while Malarkey snickered in the back but returned the embrace.

 Next, she walked over to Malarkey and gave him another quick hug. "Thank you too. For doing this for me."

 "I'm in the room across, if you need me. Bathroom is two doors down."

 The two paratroopers then left, closing the door behind them. Taking a deep breath, she surveyed around her as she stood there in the small room under the moonlight shining through the window. The future was always unknown but especially now, she felt tossed about on the waves of uncertainties. She hoped this plan was not completely foolhardy, but she would admit, she felt safer with Gene and Malarkey looking out for her while Don and Boyd were gone. She would never admit how she had cried while hiding away from everyone when she realized she was no longer alone, that she would not be sent with Captain Evans and his company. There were good men looking out for her. 

 She crawled into bed, slipping under the scratchy covers. All the while, her mind sent a fervent prayer that the crew of Fury would be safe. That they would return to her uninjured. That Don would be okay.

[obae-me]

It’s Cold Outside- Secret Santa Gift

Happy Holidays everyone! This is my gift for the Obey Me Secret Santa Event! My gift is for @panickedpansexualprincess​ I really hope you like it! 

                          ___________________________________

When it was time for the tide of seasons to change, you were a bit worried. This world and it’s mysteries were still new, and you had assumed that even the weather would contain some demonic danger. However, you found yourself pleased as you watched snowflakes drift down from the sky to coat the ground in a pleasing crisp white. As silly as it was, you’d thought maybe the frost would be black or some other dismal color. It was comforting, the familiarity of it all, and it eased some of your home-sickness. Although, you had discovered that the chill was much more intense than anything you had felt before. Anything within human standards, anyway. You’d tried sticking your hand out to catch a twirling snowflake the first time they’d begun to fall. As soon as it touched the bare skin of your palm, you shuddered, your whole arm nearly going numb. The demons you resided with quickly rushed to accommodate your fragile human body as soon as they realized you wouldn’t be able to handle the otherworldly winter. Thicker layers, little heaters, even magical charms and potions to shield you from frigid breezes. 

Of course, there had been some close calls. The time you’d forgotten to wear gloves and accidentally got stuck to a frozen door handle. The time Lucifer had been so exhausted he’d locked the front doors without remembering you had gone off to Purgatory Hall for a short visit, rushing outside as soon as he got your message with a look of fear that he’d find you frozen. It hadn’t all been bad, however. Everyone in the household was far too eager to hold your hands to make sure your fingers were warm. There would always be a hot beverage nearby when you needed one. On more than one occasion, you’d been graced with several of the demon’s coats and sweaters. 

Although, the memory you recall the most was when a quite an important piece of equipment met a swift and unfortunate end. 

You’d woken up from your deep sleep as loud voices clamored in the halls. You sat up, your exposed skin feeling the sudden stinging chill. Already you felt like shaking. Grabbing one of the blankets from your bed, you pulled it tight around your shoulders as you shuffled outside your room. 

“I-It’s freezing!” Asmo cried, rubbing his shoulders and mourning his beauty sleep. He always seemed to struggle with the winter. On one hand, he didn’t consider covering every inch of his body with fabric to be within ‘his aesthetic’. On the other hand, he absolutely despised being cold. Even right now, dragging his dramatically long dress robe behind him, he had half a mind to put on every article of clothing that he owned. 

“I bet Levi turned it down again, he likes it colder!” Mammon growled. 

Levi gasped at being accused, tucking his hands under his Ruri-Chan throw blanket he had wrapped around himself. “N-n-n-not this cold!” 

“I bet it’s Mammon’s fault,” Belphie whined, wearing several layers under a baggy hoodie. 

“Eh? Why?!” 

Belphie simply shrugged. 

Out in his own little world, Beel didn’t add to the bickering, instead, he closed his eyes and hummed to himself. “Mmm, soup or some hot stew would be perfect right now…” 

You made it over to them, already shaking as the hellish cold seeped through your bones. The arguing came to a quick halt when they noticed the state you were in. Asmo screeched in a pitch high enough to make your ears ring. “MC is going to freeze!” He rushed over pulling you into his arms. “Which one of you-you hellions did this?!” He never got an answer, but even Asmo himself never expected to get one. “There there, I’ll help keep you warm.” His skin was rather cold but the inner warmth from his body was slowly seeping into yours. He took your hands and placed them on his chest, rubbing the cold from your fingers. The skin of his nose and cheeks turned slightly pink. “It’s best that we get your blood pumping, huh?” 

But before you could start to truly heat up, he was quickly yanked backwards by the fabric of his robe, essentially dis-robing him till he was simply in his pjs. “What do you think you’re doing gettin’ all handsy with MC, huh?! If anyone is going to be keeping them warm, it’s me!” Mammon snapped at anyone attempting to approach, cuddling up to you, grabbing the sides of the blanket and pulling it around the two of you as he pressed his body against yours. He was much warmer compared to Asmo. You nestled into him, shivering less. Belphie bumped into the two of you, trying to wedge his way between your bodies. “Oi!” 

The disruption let cool air seep in past your blankets, your teeth beginning to chatter as Mammon and Belphie started to push each other and fight for who got to keep you warm. Asmo didn’t get physical, but he attempted to sneak back to you while the others were distracted. Of course, they noticed, tugging him into the fight. You didn’t care. The only thing on your mind was searching for relief. Beel was still simply standing there, daydreaming about all the different types of warm foods. “...Seventh Circle Chili...Decadent Devil’s Hot Chocolate…” He was the only one who would be able to warm you up without resorting to whatever jealous contest they always put themselves under whenever you were involved. You planted your face in his body, surprised with how hot he was despite the frost already climbing its way up the windows from the inside. He jolted out of his thoughts. “MC? Are you cold?” You nodded and he frowned, pulling you tightly as his larger frame covered yours as much as he was able. 

“It’s as I suspected,” A deep voice sighed as two other people approached the group. Lucifer strode up, his normal coat on top of his robe that he had underneath. His arms were folded, and overall he seemed relatively unaffected like his brothers, but you could see the very ends of his fingers tremble trying to keep themselves warm by digging into the fabric of his sleeve. “The heater has been frozen.” 

“I t-told you I thought the winter would be colder this year,” Satan hissed, his terse tone falling short between his shuddering breaths. 

“And what exactly did you want me to do about it?” Lucifer glared at him, trying his best not to twitch, to endure the cold by his sheer will. Normally, they would’ve kept their little back and forth going. Sometimes they went on for hours, and yet this time, the chill was even enough to snuff out the flames of contention before it really started. “At any rate...what’s done is done. It’ll be about a day before it’s fixed.” 

“A whole day?!” Asmo gritted his teeth. “Luciferrrr,” he squirmed, trying to give him puppy eyes. “Can’t you get someone out to fix it now?” 

Lucifer groaned and lowered his head. “I did, Asmo. They’re on their way now but with the rising snow and the state the heater was in, it’ll take a while before it’s--” He finally shook once, a brief and subtle quiver. “Before it’s warm again.” 

A jolt of worry struck through you. A full day? Could you manage to make it an entire day with it being this cold? You were nearly fully clothed, wrapped in a thick comforter, and holding onto Beel so tightly you were a little afraid you’d be stuck to him, and yet despite all this, you were still absolutely freezing. Beel could sense this, doing what he could as he began to rub your back and shoulders, hoping some friction would warm you up a bit. “Lucifer,” he called out, directing the eldest’s head in your direction. Through your peripherals, you watched Lucifer’s eyes go wide as he quickly remembered that humans could easily die from the cold. “What do we do about MC?” 

“Let’s start with something warm to eat.” He came over  putting his hand atop your head. With him touching you, you could feel him vibrating. “Actually, I think we could all use something hot, couldn’t we? Who wants to--” 

“Me!” A choir of voices rang out all at once. 

Lucifer scowled. “I wasn’t even finished yet.” 

“You were going to send one of us to the kitchen, right?” Asmo beamed. “To be right next to the fiery oven? I’ll go!” 

It dawned on a few demons that Asmo was right. The heater might’ve been broken, but ovens, stoves, fireplaces, they all were still functional. Nearly all of them bolted down the hallway, pushing and shoving each other out of the way as they tried to get there first. Only Lucifer, Beel, and you remained. Again, Lucifer sighed, and you wondered if he was also trying to heat himself up with heavy breaths. “Fighting over fire, is that what they’ve been resorted to? Neanderthals, the bunch of them.” Despite his exasperated words, even the demon of pride had a difficult time lingering in this shadowed path. He grabbed some of the blanket’s slack, tightening it around your shoulders to keep the warm bubble you’d created inside. “Beel, can you please go make sure your brothers don't burn the house down?” 

Beel hesitated, pulling you even closer to him, an incredible feat. You could feel him take up handfuls of the blanket as he gave you a protective squeeze. “But…” 

“I’ll bring MC up to my room. It’s the only bedroom with a fireplace.” With that fact, Beel nodded, pulling warily apart from you. The air you’d been protected from rushed towards your body with a bite strong enough that you felt it in your soul. You gasped so loudly you couldn't breathe afterwards. Quickly you were tucked against another body, albeit one far from as warm as Beel’s. “Out of all the years of previous centuries for this to happen, it chose the year you stayed with us,” Lucifer whispered, growing immensely more worried when you could feel how cold you had become. “Let’s go, it’ll be faster if I carried you.” 

It was still a new experience for you, being so easily lifted off the ground. But he raised you up, making sure to wrap the tail end of the blanket around your feet as he tilted your head so it could rest against the crook of his neck. You held yourself together, trying to not shake as much as you could, although the strain almost forced you to tremble harder. Thankfully, with his speed, he was at his room in no time. 

Soon, you were settled on an armchair in front of the fireplace, the warmth from the devilish flames engulfing you in it’s sinful indulgence. The skin across your body burnt, adjusting to the new temperature as the painful numbness started to slip away. Lucifer squatted down, meeting you at eye-level. As his chilled hand tried to caress your face, you felt it send uncomfortable jolts down your spine. All it took was a single flinch for Lucifer to look at his own hand and think, for once, ‘it’s not good enough.’ He took his own coat off of his shoulders and placed it around you, scooting the chair just a bit closer to the fire. And then, in a strike of brilliance, he pulled you out of your spot for just a moment, sliding into where you had been, and then gently tugged to seat you into his lap. With a little breath, the light surrounding the room appeared to get darker. An ebony feather rubbed against your cheek, and then you realized what had happened. Lucifer’s wings tucked around the back of you, pressing you closer to him. One of his hands entangled the hair at the back of your head, guiding your face against his neck once more. 

Rubbing your back, he pressed his cheek against the side of your head. “Any warmer?” The gentle intimacy and deepness of his vocals brought the smallest twinge of heat to your cheeks. You took a shuddering sigh before nodding, burying your body closer to his. You slowly unfolded the blanket around you, taking the ends and tucking it around Lucifer’s sides. As you did so, you felt the base of his wings. One of your fingers accidently rubbed against it. The touch sent sparks down Lucifer’s nerves, his wings involuntarily twitching. It wasn’t long till you could feel the heat of his body grow. You tried to let your fingers recede, but his hand touched your elbow, his thumb rubbing over the curved bone. You took this as a message that...it was okay. Reaching forward, you let your hand slide over the small of his back between the bases, then slowly you brushed your palm over the feathers. Lucifer shook, trembling a bit, and then he sighed contently, slouching forward, his chin resting on your shoulder. His steady heartbeat could be felt against your own chest. 

The two of you stayed like that for a while, the heat from your entwined bodies comforting you both. At one point, you’d nearly dozed off, lulled to a light sleep with the rhythmic circles being massaged into your body and the reassuring scent of his faded cologne. But of course, it didn’t last forever. Lucifer’s bedroom door flew wide open, a clamor of demons stumbling through the doorway. The mixed smell of sweet and savory wafted through the air, and you sleepily raised your head to peer over Lucifer’s shoulder. The eldest let out a little groan only audible enough for you to hear as his siblings disrupted the peace. 

“See, I knew something was up!” Mammon shouted. He hurriedly came over, careful not to spill a bowl of something steamy in his hands. 

“Great detective work,” Satan scoffed. 

Levi dragged in a rolling server tray, the clinking of silverware bringing you further to attention. Beel, ignoring the food, padded over to you, his brows furled in deep worry. He touched your face, grinning at the warmth flooding back to your skin. He turned his attention down to the table in the middle of Lucifer’s room. “How about we bring this closer to the fire?” 

Begrudgingly, Lucifer straightened, letting you stand to your feet as the first-born pushed the chair aside. Beel helped drag the table over till the dancing flames reflected off the glass-top. One by one, the brothers helped set this little impromptu meal of theirs. Mugs were filled with hot chocolate with little bobbing marshmallows, and bowls containing steamy soup broth were settled down. You sat down at the floor, cupping your fingers around your mug to let your hands warm up. The brothers fought for a little, but eventually Levi and Mammon got to sit at your sides, moving so close to you your arms easily touched the two of them. It only took a few spoonfuls of food to warm you from the inside out. 

“Feeling better?” Satan asked from across the table.  

You nodded, eagerly continuing while for the next hour or so, the brothers went back and forth talking about cold nights like these. Nights where the harsh sounds outside were muffled against the snow. Nights where the simplest things tended to be the coziest. Nights where hanging out with each other wasn’t so terrible. 

The heater might’ve been out, but you hardly remembered being so warm, especially with Lucifer’s heartwarming stare, Mammon holding you in his arms from behind, Levi wrapping your hands against his own, Asmo’s feet tapping against yours, Satan’s occasional palm against your cheek, Beel’s loving smile, and Belphie crawling under the table to rest his head in your lap. You tilted your head back against Mammon’s shoulder, sighing, giving Levi’s hand a squeeze, and then letting the fuzziness of your mind take you. 

[andromedarune]

[Piers/Reader] “Just One Night’s Rest”

DESCRIPTION: Babies really aren't your jam, but if it's so your best friend can get a good night's rest for once, you're willing to make an exception.

RATING: Teen and up (for adult language)

WORD COUNT: ~2,500

A/N: Hey so I have Piers brain rot (surprise, surprise) and wrote this fic when I was really super tired, so it might not be good but WHATEVER I TRIED MY BEST

(Inspired by some fan art of Piers with a Toxel I found on Twitter by Squidbiscuit)

(oh yah also this is a Gender-Neutral reader, so yah, right on)

* * * 

It was another nippy evening in the gloomiest town in the entire region. You kept a brisk walk going while you made your way towards the further ends of the city; if you focused hard enough, you could just barely hear the sound of waves lashing out against the cliffs way beyond the tall, run-down buildings of Spikemuth. It’s been years since you’ve traveled down that area, and yet you still remember all the backpaths into the forest that led to the bluff, which had been technically off-limits for decades, now. You’d basically memorized everything about this damn city, which can’t really be too surprising, all things considered. It was home, after all.

But now wasn’t the time for running through the town, seeking thrills and nostalgia. No, you found yourself on this side of town because your best friend decided that he desperately needed your help for - oh, Arceus knows what - at damn near six o’clock at night. It wasn’t the first time he’s called you out here on short notice (and definitely wouldn’t be the last), so you had your own little pity-party before getting out of your comfy bed, putting back on all your winter gear, and trudging out into town.

It isn’t too long of a trip, thankfully; you march up to the tall, banged-up steel gate that leads up to his house, mindlessly tapping in the numerical password you’d memorized years before. It opens easily. You walk through, stuffing your cold hands into your jacket pockets as you make your way up the porch steps and knock on the doorbell.

A moment passes by.

You stand there, shifting your weight from foot to foot, awkwardly trying to move around to create warmth without looking like a total moron. Your eyes glance at the doorbell just a few inches away from the door. Probably still broken, you think to yourself. Fix your fucking shit, Piers.

Just before you think to call him, the door opens. Despite your best attempts, a snicker cuts through your mouth.

Piers really can never be described as someone who looks “put-together,” but seeing him now - serious Zigzagoon eyes, ponytail ridden with worrisome knots, black sweater notably wet in odd places with an even odder substance, the weird red rubber gloves that were duct-taped onto his limbs, expression reaching newfound levels of grumpiness that just screams ‘I have never been more dead inside in my life’ - it’s impossible to not laugh. He just looks down at you as you throw a hand over your mouth; at least he seems a bit relieved that you’re here.

“Sorry, sorry,” you eventually manage to say, “your face there was perfect.”

“Whatever you say…” is his grumbling reply.

The taller man moves aside for you to enter, and you happily do. While the house itself isn’t much to really note (Piers was never one to keep too much stuff, even though he’s lived here for ages, now), you were kind of surprised to see that even with there hardly being anything around to mess up, literally everything looked all sorts of, well, messed up. The couch had that strange gooey stuff along the cushions, singe marks lining the armrests as well; a coffee table had been toppled over, one of the legs entirely missing; a trail of what looks to be blank sheet music papers lined down from the kitchen and disappeared down the hall. You gave Piers a confused glance.

“This, uh… this isn’t a datura party, is it?”

Piers shoots you an overdramatic offended gasp.

“‘Course not! It’s just… well, uh, it’s…”

You open your mouth to say something, only for a distinct whine in the distance to cut you off. Immediately, you’re giving Piers a cold glare; the man laced his hands together, damn near going to a knee as he gave you the biggest set of pleading eyes he possibly could.

“Please, please, please - I really need your help!”

“I don’t do babies, Piers.”

“It’s just a little Toxel - hardly anythin’ like a human baby.”

“Oh, yeah, because a pokemon baby is so much easier to take care of.”

He couldn’t really argue with that. But you could still see the hopefulness in his eyes as he tiptoed closer to you.

“I seriously need your help, though… With the concerts and the gym gettin’ ready to open up for the season, I’m runnin’ all over the place. And Toxel are super finicky - they need constant supervision! It’s bad enough havin’ to watch the little guy when I’m workin’, but I haven’t even had an inch of sleep in weeks. Just one night - that’s all I’m askin’.”

“Why’re you asking me? I’m not the one who raised my baby sibling.”

“Marnie doesn’t have anythin’ on a baby Toxel. Besides, she’s staying the night at a friend’s house, and… well, you’re the only other person I can really trust with somethin’ like this.”

A loud crash in the distance catches your attention. You grimace, but when you return to look at your friend with the full intent of saying ‘Yeah, no,’ he’s got those big baby blue eyes glimmering down at you. Your grimace tightens. You’re stronger than this, don’t let him get to you.

“P-please,” he mutters pitifully, “I’ll… I’ll… I’ll owe you one - no, fifty! I’ll buy all your video games, give you front row seats to shows, buy you more stuffed animals from those overpriced shops you like - just please help me out here.”

Well, when he’s begging like that and making that face, it’s really hard to say no. You glance off to the side, pretending to be oh so inconvenienced by him when really it’s that odd look in his eyes that’s making you a bit weak in the knees.

“Uhg… fine. But just tonight. And it’s not my fault if anything else gets broken - I’m really no good with babies, Piers. You’ll totally owe me for life after this.”

Perhaps driven mad from his sleeplessness, he nods without hesitation. You watch as he frantically rips off the rubber gloves and tosses them over onto the couch, making an attempt to run his fingers through his hair when it immediately snags and pulls a helpless groan of frustration from his throat. You laugh a bit at that, though it’s laced with some pity.

Piers eventually guides you down the hall, pointing to the door just to the right; it’s partially open, the sounds of paper being ripped to shreds and the occasional croak of a baby Toxel all to be heard from its depths. Before you make you way down, he grabs your shoulders, forcing you to look up at him once more.

“I seriously can’t thank you enough. Toxel isn’t anythin’ to be scared of - he’s just a baby, after all. Even bein’ a poison-electric type, he can’t really hurt you too bad.”

“It’s not him I’m worried about...” you mumble out.

Piers chuckles a bit, giving you a gentle pat on the head.

“Don’t sweat it. He’s a toughie. I don’t think you could really hurt him if you tried. All I’m askin’ is that you keep an eye on him for a few hours, make sure he doesn’t eat nothin’ bad or completely destroy my house. But if it gets too much, just wake me up and I’ll take over - no problem, alright?”

You manage a nod. Piers gives you shoulders a little squeeze before turning on his heels.

“Ooookayy…” he suddenly slurs out, stumbling into a wall briefly before reorienting himself. “... ‘m goin’ to bed… see ya at six…”

“Yeah, uh, sure. Night…”

He hums, disappearing down the shadows of the hall with only the soft click of his door closing to be proof that he didn’t vanish into the void. Hesitantly, you glance over at the baby room, where now banging sounds can be heard. You take a deep breath, gathering up all your resolve before heaving a harsh exhale. Alright! I can do this! How bad can this Toxel be, anyway?

*Several God-Forsaken Hours Later…*

“Toxel, please,” you cried out, teetering left and right from a combination of balancing on the wobbly stool and from the sheer nausea you felt after getting hit face-first with a Toxic technique. Your hands were trembling from all the numbness pricking deep into your palms, but nevertheless, you reached hopelessly towards the baby pokemon. Toxel gave you a hearty raspberry, digging deeper into a jar of Arceus know what from atop the fridge. “Please, buddy, let’s go nigh-nigh. Wanna go nigh-nigh?”

Toxel let out a belch, his chubby face covered almost completely in some kind of berry jam. At this point, you could hardly care about how Piers would react. Your main priority for the past several hours had been solely on getting a firm grip on the baby. And, true to the Spikemuth citizen, this little guy was being anything but obedient.

Desperately red eyes spun around the room, hoping for anything to entice Toxel into your hands. Thankfully, you were able to tuck away most everything dangerous that he might have gotten into (though at one point he did get his hands on a spoon he found underneath the couch - it took you nearly an hour to finally get him out from there, especially when he found shocking you with the spoon just so entertaining). You looked across the dining room table, seeking the mess from an earlier meal you’d failed at making, to the countertops that you tried to clean gooey purple poison off of several times through the night, and even to the sink where you’d also tried (and, of course, failed) to give Toxel a bath. Nothing immediately caught your eye until…

Your smile spread maniacally across your face as you honed in on a new target. Passing a sneaky glance to the baby, you reached over into a slightly ajar cabinet and grabbed a juicy-looking oran berry.

“Oh, Toxel~,” you coo affectionately to the pokemon. Initially, he lifts his head with perhaps full intention to blow another disgruntled raspberry in your direction, only for his eyes to widen in recognition of what you held out in your hand. A small, dare you say cute ribbit of curiosity was faintly heard from his throat. Toxel moved away from the berry jar, reaching his grubby little hands out to the berry.

“You gotta come here if you want the berry.”

Toxel immediately complied, crawling towards the end of the fridge with no regard for if he fell. Even with the numbness from his electric secretion in his skin, you manage to snatch up the baby, pulling him close to your chest before he fell out of your grasp. A part of you nearly let out a mad cackle; another part of you considered crying. Thankfully, because you still had some semblance of sanity left in your husk of a body, you simply gave a tired sigh and looked down at the baby. “Okay… Snackies and then it’s off to sleepy time junction…”

You slowly meandered back into the living room, stepping over various chair legs and abandoned drawers on route to the couch. Your body ached more and more the closer you got; you all but collapsed into the cushions, hardly caring about the poisonous slime or gooey whatever that coated the entire piece of furniture. Toxel got cozy on your lap, gnawing at the berry. Seeing him so damn determined to eat the fruit pulled a light-hearted chuckle from your lips. Gently, you took the berry from his fingers, ignoring his growls of disapproval.

“Look, Toxie,” you lowered your voice, letting the nails of your thumbs shakily dig into the thick skin of the fruit, pulling it apart so that the juicy innards were easily accessible. A light, sweet smell wafted immediately into the air. “You gotta take the skin off, first, buddy. Here ya go.”

Toxel gratefully accepted the fruit, wasting no time in digging into the fruity flesh. Aside from his soft croaks of satisfaction, the house had finally seemed to fall silent. Slowly, your eyes began to flutter; your head leaned back. The pleasant environment that had befallen over the abode was far too comfortable to resist just another second more of darkness…

… Piers slowly began to stir, letting out an involuntary groan as he rolled over to his back. His eyes fluttered open, and much to his surprise, the house wasn’t totally in pieces. Or, at least the chaos hadn’t spread into his room, yet. The man let out a soft chuckle at that thought. He’d definitely be hearing about this for a long time from you - but for that warm, cozy restfulness he had at the moment, it was definitely worth it. He just hoped you didn’t completely hate him. After all, he knew how nasty this certain Toxel could be, and he really knew how much you hesitated when it came to young pokemon. But even if he’d basically end up handing over all his credit cards and bank accounts to you, Piers would make sure to let you know how grateful he was just for just this little favor.

He had his own little stretch and eventually pulled himself out of the warmth of his covers. He found himself glancing over at his closet door mirror, adjusting his hair a bit and resetting his slightly twisted up shirt - the poor lad was so tired the night before that he didn’t bother getting undressed like he normally does. Which was probably a good thing - not sure how he would have reacted if you ended up having to chase Toxel into his room and found him damn near skyclad. Before that thought could wander to some dangerous daydream, Piers quickly broke away from his reflection and headed towards the door. Now was probably a good time to rescue you.

To be honest, Piers figured that the house would be in a worse state. But judging by the piles of broken objects shuffled into corners or onto hastily wiped tables, it looks like you even tried to clean up a bit. He didn’t know why he laughed at that fact; probably because it was you. Piers shuffled down the hall, peering around corners with curious eyes that he may see you in some comical situation at the mercy of an infantile pokemon. However, much to his surprise, he could just barely hear the sound of snores coming from the living room.

Piers leaned in, and immediately tensed up at the sight.

You, sprawled out on the couch with one leg dangling to the floor, baby Toxel all curled up nice and cozy on your chest. Both so sweetly sound asleep. Piers nearly passed out from it; even after all these years of knowing you, you had never seemed so… peaceful? Reticent? Maybe…. Even… beautiful? He looked down at the two of you for a few breaths more, memorizing every single aspect of this moment - it’d make for a great song, if he ever got the courage to write it. Eventually, he crept a bit closer, kneeling at your side with a soft exhale. Yeah, you were out like a light, and Toxel seemed no different. So the taller man indulged a bit more in the peacefulness of morning, leaning over the back of the couch with his eyes shut  and patiently waiting for you to wake up to him there.

[justafewsmallsteps]

Happy InuKag Week 2020, Day 6! It’s been literal years, but here’s finally Part 2 of The Problem With Thinking, my Inuyasha High School AU. Lots of love going out to @coquinespike for all the encouragement. Thanks for your patience! It’d probably be better to reread Part 1 (no big edits, but because it’s been SO LONG) but honestly it’s not a huge deal if you don’t. Lots of fluff.  I’m sorry I can only offer the same bland AU over and over. Please forgive me and leave comments in the notes anyways? 

So the fight was officially over and now they stood there holding each other. It was so intimate that it made the tips of his ears feel hot with embarrassment. Hard to believe that just this morning he was still avoiding her, yet now she was practically molded up against him, and there wasn’t a single part of him that wanted her to move away.

He was hyper aware that Kagome was so very close—closer than she’d ever been before.  It was new territory. With their reconciliation, the bridge he thought he’d burn reassembled itself anew, and they’d crossed a line somewhere. What line, he couldn’t be sure.

A new burning filled Inuyasha’s chest, a fire that wanted to engulf her entirely. He’d missed her so much, and being away from her had drained him like a dying battery. He’d felt so tired, so void of any energy or drive, so… lonely. Now she was here, right here, and his whole body was thrumming with the desire to grab her tightly and hold on, to bask in her warm presence like a spring field finally coming out of winter’s harsh cold.

He saw the same look of longing reflected in her eyes. They were magnets kept apart until now.

He forced himself to speak, though his heavy tongue and heart protested the words as he spoke, “I should get you home.”

The sky was getting darker by the second. Her house was just down the street, but he’d worry too much if he let her go by herself. Besides, it was an excuse to stay by her side for a while longer.

“Are you trying to get rid of me?”she asked with a hurt tone.

“What? No!” Inuyasha yelped. The opposite! He coughed and looked off to the side. There was no decent way to explain how he was afraid that the more she stayed by him, the harder it would become to let her go even though they only lived a block apart. He’d cut her off so thoroughly from his life, and now he realized it was like denying himself oxygen. How had he survived?

“Inuyasha?” She gripped his hands again to pull him from his thoughts.

“Huh?” he noised dumbly.

“C-can I…” Kagome wracked her short-circuiting brain for an excuse, any excuse to stay longer. “I don’t want to go home looking like this.”

“What?” You look fine, he thought.

She bit her lip. “Since my face is all puffy and my eyes are red. I don’t want Mama or Jii-chan to worry.”

“O-oh. You… Do you want to come up?” His eyes suddenly opened wide. “Not if you’re uncomfortable with that! I could get you a… wet towel or something.”

“It's okay. I’m fine with going up.” Kagome fought a blush.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded firmly, if only to keep from jumping up and down in glee. Success! How obvious would that be?

He replied with a stiff nod back. He swiftly turned around, dropping one hand from her grip but holding on with the other to lead her into the building. Their palms and fingers felt as if they’d fused together like hot glass. It was weird to imagine they’d have to come apart anytime soon.

As they walked past the metal gate and into the complex, Kagome’s eyes wandered to drink in the unfamiliar territory, but also to keep occupied. There was a tension in the air—some shy but persistent heat that sealed their mouths shut. Inuyasha was looking straight ahead avoiding looking at her, but she couldn’t bring herself to do much differently than him. The fact loomed upon them: they were going to be in his apartment… alone. It was very new for them, and they’d only just gotten their problems solved. Her heart raced. She’d just found out she was in love with him. Maybe asking to come up was a bad idea.

Before she could think else of it, Inuyasha finished turning the key to his door. It opened with a small push, sending her stomach to do a cartwheel. The darkness inside fed her curiosity despite her nerves. She followed him in as the lights flickered on. Humble. Quiet.

It’s not like he has anyone to greet, she remembered. There weren’t decorations or frills—just the basic necessities.

Kagome removed her shoes, noticing how awkward it felt to do so with one free hand. Still, she had no intention of letting go.

“Uh, the… bathroom is over there.” Inuyasha gave a directional head gesture that had his ears twitch. “Is there anything you need?”

Her eyes dropped down to their locked hands. With a strange sense of concentration, she loosened her grip—at least she thought she did. It didn’t budge.

“Oh.” Inuyasha noticed the problem.

A voice yelled in his head. You’re an idiot. You can’t follow her in there! Let go!

With the care and hesitation of unwrapping a bandage, he moved his fingers to uncurl from hers. It felt like pulling apart linked chains. Their palms slid past each other, fingers sweeping to the tips. He would have let it go, but the slightest hint of uncertain, lingering pressure from Kagome had him stop in his tracks.

They froze. His eyes flickered to her blushing face, and he felt her fingertips squeeze his.

“In—“

The next second he yanked her close—his earlier desire to do so finally sated. He grasped the back of her head while his other hand wrapped around her wrist. Her contact against him felt like finally gulping air after drowning.

“Inuyasha?” the girl gasped.

Shit. He’d acted on instinct when he grabbed her. He had no idea what to say, and he felt the embarrassment bubble fast to the surface. She felt nice though, and he couldn’t deny that.  

Kagome’s face pressed against Inuyasha’s chest, her mind drawing blanks as her cheek felt the heat of his skin beneath his T-shirt. His heart was racing, just like hers. It was reassuring.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. He shifted the hand in her hair, letting the smell of lavender shampoo and Kagome’s natural scent fill his home.

Kagome’s free hand came up to hold him back gently, and she realized she’d been aching to do this since she laid eyes on him: to hold him in her arms, to pour out her affection, to be close.

“It’s fine,” she whispered, running her palm soothingly up and down a short length.

Inuyasha reflexively pushed her closer in an attempt to keep from shivering at her touch.

Her heart was still beating rapidly. How else was she supposed to feel when the boy she loved was hugging her so sweetly? It took a while, but after a few moments of silence, Kagome relaxed enough to speak.

“Inuyasha?” She squeezed him a little, somehow already comfortable with touching him so intimately. Funny, but it just felt right being close to him.

“Hm?”

She allowed herself to sink against his body, letting him hold up more of her weight. “Have you been doing all your homework?” It was a familiar question, bringing a sense of normalcy back to their dynamic.

“Uh…” he hesitated.

“Inuyasha…”

“I’ve been doing enough,” he responded vaguely. It was the truth, but he knew she wouldn’t like the answer.

Kagome clicked her tongue in disapproval. “That sounds like you’ve been slacking…”

“I got lazy without your naggin’.” Lazy. Frustrated. Uninspired. Angry. Depressed. Who was he kidding? When he wasn’t moping around he was trying his best not to punch walls.  

The girl sighed. “I’ve been distracted too, so I’m not one to talk… Though I’m going to blame that on you.”

He scoffed, but the sound was soft. “You gettin’ all worked up over me…” Never mind that he’d been the same.

She poked him in the shoulder blade and dug her finger into it as a small jab. “Don’t be a jerk. I missed you a lot, dummy. I wouldn’t be here otherwise, looking like a total mess.”

In seriousness, he apologized. “I’m sorry.”

The sincerity of it brought tears rushing to her eyes so quickly she was defenseless against them. She was completely caught off guard, but if he was going to be that honest then she’d follow suit.

“Don’t do that to me again,” she had to whisper in a rush to keep her voice from faltering. If it sounded like a plea instead of a reprimand, there was nothing she could do about it.

“I won’t,” he swore. “I… please don’t cry Kagome. I can’t stand it. You know that. I don’t know what to do.”

“Just don’t be an idiot again.”

He held his tongue and let her calm down. His hand kept rubbing soothing circles against her back.

“Were you eating properly?” She finally sniffled with a frown.  

“I ate. Not what you’d call ‘properly’ though.”

“You can’t just have three packs of ramen when you get home from school.”

“I can and definitely did.”

Again, she sighed. “We should go to the grocery store together. And I need to teach you how to actually cook.”

“I can fend for myself fine,” he retorted. After a beat he added, “But if you want to come over and make food, I’m not going to stop you.”

“I’d cook for you everyday if only to keep you from high blood pressure.” She pulled away in time to catch the shock on his face, and realized then that her words sounded like a proposal, like she could commit to taking care of him for the rest of her life. She felt mortified. It was too close to a confession!

“You would?” Inuyasha felt embarrassment splash him in the face like cold water.

“No! I mean, yes, but I didn’t mean that I…  you… you know? I just want you to eat balanced meals! That’s all I meant, okay?”

Normally he would retort her sweet sentiment with something brash. He was marvelously good at ruining the moment. Instead he was frozen, looking at the girl in front of him with affection seizing his whole being like lightning, strong and inescapable. He was helpless as it coursed through every nerve in his body.

His silence had Kagome fidgeting.

“Inuyasha?”  

He couldn’t move. He opened his mouth and closed it repeatedly, no words forming whatsoever like a dumb fish gaping for food. The idea of Kagome cooking him a meal… of her setting down plates, of her coming home to him… every day for the rest of his life…

The girl’s cheeks flared indignantly at his lack of response; heart thrumming nervously because it wasn’t a true confession, but it had the tone of something so much more—something akin to promising forever. She couldn’t take his surprised expression locked onto her so intensely, so she shoved her face into his shirt to avoid his gaze. Her hands gripped at his sleeves. She shook his arms hoping for a reaction and cried out, “Don’t just stand there staring at me! You have to say something, you dummy!”

He really should say something, he knew, but nothing was coming to his head. Nothing except Kagome, over and over again. Her in his kitchen, her walking down the road by his side, her eating meals with him everyday… When she told him to let her stay by his side, Inuyasha didn’t consider the actual depth of it. He’d simply taken it at face value. If she wanted to be around him, she’d decide that. The thought of her being there for him daily triggered something heavy to lock itself into place. It felt like she’d smacked an old machine and the gears finally fit themselves together. The realization came to him then.

He was in love with her.

Kagome felt his hold on her slacken. “Inuyasha?” she tried again, with a miserable tone to her voice. She was still mortified.  

He released his steady hold on her wrist. Then he pried her hand gently away from his shirt, slowly easing his fingers between hers. The action was enough to get her to pull herself back. He’d never been very tender before.

His gaze was molten hot against hers, burning maybe, but she was caught in it like sweet, sticky honey. Her chest panged with how much she loved him. Couldn’t she just… reach up and show him? She tightened her fingers entwined with his. God, that felt so right. Her hand belonged in his.

“Kagome…” Her name was meant for his mouth.

Oh, he was so attractive, and she’d missed him so much. If she could somehow wrap herself up in him she would. His tentative grip firmed, lifting her hand closer. Her eyelids lowered while the rest of her body tilted up, up, and towards him.

Inuyasha was enamored. His entire world was swirling around Kagome as if she was the center of the universe. She very well might be, with him caught in her gravitational pull. He closed his eyes and saw black—and then he saw a star; faint and twinkling behind his eyelids, like the uncertain pressure lingering sweetly against his lips.

Then it was gone.

Slightly dazed, he opened his eyes to a blushing Kagome shying back from her kiss. Damn if he didn’t want to pull her to him again. A ‘wait, come back,’ on the edge of his tongue.

As if asking for permission, Kagome tugged at his sleeve and steadied her gaze on his mouth. He wanted to smile at her obvious signals, but a prick of paranoia had him stop her from moving towards him.

“Wait…” He watched as her courage was drained from her face and tried quickly to assure her. “It’s not that I don’t want to, I… I didn’t mean for this to happen when I asked you up, you know.”

“I know that,” she responded earnestly.

“Right…” he turned to look at the floor, trying to sift through his clouding thoughts gathering and darkening like a storm.

“So what’s the problem?”

“I mean, you know. That stuff,”

“The ‘stuff’ that people who don’t know anything say?” she asked.

“Well they ain’t that off if we keep at it,” he replied dryly, but there was a blush on his face. He’s just been kissed by Kagome Higurashi, the most beautiful, wonderful girl in the world. She would’ve done it again if he hadn’t held her back.

“Look, I don’t care. This is what I want. Do you…” she bit her lip unsurely and his knees almost buckled in, “Do you want this?”

Do you want me? Her eyes, clear and bright as a mid-summer day, seemed to ask him.

“Of course I do…” he confessed. There was more he wanted to say on the matter, or rather, more doubts that wouldn’t stop surfacing, but in the next moment Kagome had her mouth back on his, pushing his thoughts down to drown. He let them die there. Instead he let his world become so full of her that nothing else fit, and he’d never felt more put together than he was now, overflowing with her.

Kissing Inuyasha was something she’d dreamt about a lot lately, but not a fantasy she’d thought would come to fruition. It was different than she’d imagined, her body awkwardly stiff yet her heart soaring.

Attached, was the first word that came to Kagome’s mind.

That was how people described how Kagome felt about Inuyasha. She was fond of him. She had a soft spot for him. She was irrevocably and inexplicably attached to him. Now that they were kissing, she uncovered a new sense of meaning to that word. She’d been so attached to him that his absence felt like pulling her seams apart. Kissing him now was sewing them back together, but she still wanted to be closer. She stretched up on her feet higher, pressing her lips harder against his. Her goal was more, but of what, she wasn’t sure. More Inuyasha, somehow, in any and every capacity seemed to be the only answer. Her hands moved up his arms, slowly feeling the worn fabric of his shirt beneath her palms. Her cheeks flared with a new blush feeling the muscles beneath. She wasn’t just attached; she was attracted; she was in love. She loved him so much that it burned from her lungs to her lips.

Their mouths parted, and he huffed her name into the hot air between them. It was a match that set her ablaze. She intended to engulf him, so she kissed him harder. She wrapped her arms around the boy’s neck and drew him in close to her, wobbling between standing on her toes and back onto her heels.  

Sensing her imbalance, Inuyasha tugged her by the waist to steady them both, but it had searing consequences as her body pressed into his. He heard her react with a sharp inhale and he hissed in response to her. So this is what happened when you got close to the sun, huh? He wasn’t melting, but he was burning everywhere they touched, and she scorched her way through him like a wildfire. They were moving so quickly his mind was whirling.

Kagome tilted her head, and Inuyasha felt the foreign sensation of her wet tongue swiping against his lip.

“Holy shit,” he cursed, and Kagome immediately pulled back startled.

“Sorry! I don’t—”

“No, it’s fine,” he muttered with winded effort. He took a moment to breathe, noticing Kagome’s chest similarly took deep rises and falls. The reality of what had just occurred between them settled in his mind. He wasn’t sure what to do next, but he wanted to continue.

“Was I… Did I go too fast or do something wrong?” She sounded so out of breath that his head spun.

“’Course you did nothing wrong,” he whined, putting his face in his hand and closing his eyes. He was more turned on than he’d ever imagined possible, and it was making him dizzy. “Just surprised me there.”

“Oh,” Kagome finally squeaked in response. She self-consciously folded in one herself.

He peaked through his fingers at the girl only to see her looking shyly down at the ground. Her kissed lips were set in a puffy little pout and her cheeks were a warm pink. Inuyasha groaned. She was beautiful and he was such a sap for her.

He was devastatingly in love with her. And he kissed her! And she kissed him back! And more!

He was having a hard time believing this was real.

“Maybe we did go kinda fast,” he admitted. He just couldn’t wrap his head around this whole thing. When did his life make a 180? Was he dreaming? When did his dreams ever get this good?

“Sorry,” Kagome mumbled.

Inuyasha sighed and lowered his hand. “Quit apologizing.” He tucked his finger under her chin to get him to look at her,  but found the vulnerability behind her eyes almost too much to bear. He swallowed to fight the blush staining his face. “Just… gimme a sec, okay?”

Kagome nodded into his hand. He moved his face forward and pressed his forehead against hers, feeling her heat radiate against his skin. She was too much for him, he knew. He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself down—mind and body. He felt Kagome do the same, slowly relaxing into regular breaths.

This is real…

Delicately shifting, he pressed his lips to hers again, feeling her seize and then press into him. The awkwardness set back in, but they pushed through it and felt it out until it slowly melted away. He felt her exhales as sweet, warm puffs of air. They stayed like that for a while until Inuyasha took his hand and slid it to hold her cheek. He opened his mouth slightly and tilted his head to deepen their kiss. Kagome followed suit, letting him set the pace. They kept going, pushing lips together, adjusting, readjusting, and getting comfortable.

He felt her adorable eager little jump as he pulled her face closer, her hand coming up to grasp his shirt in a steadying motion. It was a swift pump to his ego to know she wanted this and was probably holding back.

He was getting turned on all over again, but it wasn’t as sudden as before. He took his time adjusting to each step forward, but Kagome didn’t make it all that easy with little gasps and the sweetest taste he’d ever experienced.

He’d always thought kissing was a gross concept. He wasn’t keen on saliva or using tongues, but the instant he felt hers on his lips he was convinced it was more than okay. Sure, it shocked him, but it felt good. Too good, at that moment, but now… Now he enjoyed the slight pressure of her sucking on his bottom lip, and the tease of her teeth as she did so. He enjoyed doing the same, shocking sensations prickling his spine with each new discovery. She was infinitely patient and understanding, letting him set their pace, and following suit.

Tentatively, Inuyasha sucked in a breath and dared to sweep his tongue against Kagome’s lips. He felt her eagerly part her mouth, inviting him to try again. This time he had taken the lead, but tremors still passed through his body as he tasted her, yet he was determined for more. She moved her arms up to wrap around his neck and pull him down. She must have been standing on her toes for a long time, he remembered. Kagome was petite, and he was over a foot taller if he stood up straight.

Ideas flash in his mind—making out on the floor, on a couch, him lifting her up to the counter… Oh damn. So much for calming down.

He grabbed her hips and moved her back just a bit, away from his lower body. It was achingly difficult to do so, since every part of him was screaming for contact with her.

She broke their kiss with a gasp.

“I should maybe think about getting home soon.”

A little more than dazed, Inuyasha did his best to recalibrate his brain. He felt the blood slowly making its way back there, but for now all his thoughts were hazy. Kagome. Home. Her house.

“Right…”

“And I should also still wash up my face.”

“Right…”

She giggled then, likely because he was still in a hormone-induced stupor. “I’ll be right back,” she assured him with a quick kiss to his cheek that left him feeling tingly. Then she was off to his bathroom.

As the door clicked shut and the buzzing sound of the restroom light came on, Inuyasha blinked himself back to reality. And it hit him hard enough that he had to sit down. He replayed the whole night in his head, wondering how the hell he’d gotten to this point. It was another miserable Friday punctuating a shitty week of dodging her at school. He got home feeling like garbage, only appreciating the weekend as a reprieve from having Kagome’s scent peppered in the air of the hallways and classrooms. His apartment was the one place he could lock himself away and not be haunted by her. But then the buzz came from the gate, and then her broken voice pleaded through the phone.

He came down just to end it once and for all. No more texts. He’d just have to scare her off and be done with it, but she was stubborn. She’d never let him push her around, so why did he expect her to let him push her away without a fight? She clung to him, dug into him, broke his resolve with her sad and angry tears. She’d missed him too. What did he do to deserve her?

A whine pushed its way past his throat, just in time for Kagome to walk out of the bathroom and shoot him a concerned look.

“You okay?”

It was weird, seeing her in his apartment like this, so casually as if she belonged there. She did, as far as he was concerned.

Filled with a new sense of determination and longing, he stood up resolutely and made his way to her. Before she could ask another question, he scooped her up in his arms and kissed her fully on the mouth. She gave an initial squeak of shock, but quickly accepted the new position, once again putting her arms around him.

“I missed you,” he admitted quickly before his unfounded resolve melted away.

“I just washed my face,” she teased as he lowered her back to her feet.

Incredulous he stammered, “That’s not what I—!”

“I know,” she interrupted. Kagome smiled, and Inuyasha’s annoyance vanished. “You don’t have to miss me anymore.”

[thiswasinevitableid]

winter prompt fill 29, indruck, sfw?

29. i should’ve done my shopping a month ago but now i’m running around last minute and when i enter your store, i’m absolutely frazzled. help me.

(Pinecone is borrowed from harrisonator’s fic “Monster Mash”)

Working at Kepler Petco isn’t the worst thing, even during the holiday shopping hellscape months. It’s not like anyone is getting in fistfights over cases of Fancy Feast. Which is why, on the 22nd of December, Duck is unprepared for the sudden sound of hands on hitting the countertop. 

“I need help.” The guy’s about his age, silver hair going patchy black near the top, pink and white striped sweater around his neck and a massive sweater hanging off his lanky frame. His red glasses barely conceal brown, anxious eyes. 

“Sure, what’re lookin for?”

“Rat treats, the kind that won’t make them ill.”

“Can handle that, right this way.” Duck leaves the counter and leads the guy back to the small mammal section. As they go the man spins a ring on his index finger, flushing under the merciless heating vents. 

“I’m sorry for the dramatic entrance. I have a mountain of things to do today and your store closes first.”

Duck glances at the AKC branded clock on the wall, which shows 12:30 p.m, “We close at five.”

“Yes, I know, but I really cannot overstate how behind I am on my Christmas shopping. Or, well, holiday is more accurate, since Joseph celebrates Hanukkah, which means I’m already late on that.” He sighs, runs a finger with chipped black nails through his hair.

“Big family?” Duck points to the row of snacks, grabs the man a basket from the end of the aisle when he starts piling them into his arms. 

“Lots of friends. We’re having a party tomorrow and I completely forgot about it until today. I know it’s ridiculous to forget about a holiday where you can’t turn around without being slapped with a reminder of it, but my brain doesn’t always work in the way I’d like it to.”

“No judgement here. Once forgot my sisters birthday until the minute my mom asked if I could get some candles for the cake after school.”

“Oh dear.” The man smiles, the expression shifting from odd to shy when Duck meets his eyes, “thank you for your help.”

Five minutes later the guy heads towards the register, then stops, backtracking to the display of rats, mice, and hamsters. Duck joins him in case he has questions, and to steal another look at his singular features. They’re not handsome on the surface, but something about them draws his eye back over and over. He’s just in time to hear the man cooing to a pair of brown rats.

“...so lovely, aren’t you just charming? If I could I’d take you home but space is limited. Oh” he blushes when he sees Duck, “I’m, ah, ready to pay now.”

“One of your friends got rats?” He indicates the pile of treats the man is buying.

“Hmm? Oh, no, these are for Luna and Emperor, my rats. I wanted to get them presents too.”

Duck can’t decide if the fact the guy prioritized spoiling his pets on the day he had to buy a bunch of gifts is adorable or worrying.

“As I said, I came here because you close first. And I, ah, I like spoiling them. It’s nice to know exactly how to cheer another living thing up.”

“I get that. Pinecone, that’s my, uh, my cat, gets more treats a month than I do.”

“Someone ought to buy you a few, then.”  The man murmurs, handing over his debit card. 

Duck, caught up in the mechanics of fighting with the card reader, doesn’t realize he’s being flirted with until the man is no more than a silver head merging into the throng outside. 

He’s lowkey annoyed with himself the rest of the day; he’s been in the market for a cute guy, and while his mystery shopper may not be Ryan Gosling, but Duck wouldn’t mind getting his number. 

Since he opened today, he gets off at three, decides to swing by Crate and Barrel in case the apron he thinks Barclay might like. There’s small hallways dotted through the mall, leading to exits or to backrooms.  As he passes one, he gets a glimpse of silver hair and a vibrant scarf. That’s the only good part of what he sees; the man from earlier is pressed close to the shiny wall, trying and failing to get his breathing order.

“Hey, man, you okay?”

He jolts, registers who’s speaking, and looks at the ground, “N-not really. I, part of the reason put this off so long is I can get incredibly overwhelmed in crowds sometimes, and yes I know that makes coming here three days before Christmas even worse an idea but I thought maybe I could handle it, but I’ve only managed to buy two of the gifts I need because I cannot focus with everything going on and, and I’m sorry, here I wanted to charming around you and now you’ve seen this and-”

“What would help?”

“I, I’d like to go somewhere quiet, but there’s nowhere, even the bathrooms are packed.”

“Do you, uh, want to come sit in my car for a bit? I can run the heater so we don’t freeze.”

“That’s really alright?” The question is so small and vulnerable he wants to tuck it into a shoebox to keep it safe.

“Yeah. C’mon, I’m parked on this end.” 

It’s snowing on and off as they walk to his car, and as he gets it running and turns on the heat his passenger finally pulls his clenched hands from his pockets; one holds a fidget cube, the other a very small, plush moth.

“I tried so hard to prepare for every possible future.” Is what he gets as explanation. The man sets both items in his lap and shuts his eyes, breathing slowly in and out. Duck says nothing, opens his phone and plays two rounds of Plants vs. Zombies before he hears anything at all from beside him. 

“Would you mind turning the radio on, at a low volume?”

“Any requests?” Duck hits the power button.

“No talk radio.”

“Can manage that.” He fiddles around and finds the alternative station. Even it has Christmas songs interspersed with the usual mix. 

“Is your name really Duck?”

He wonders if the guy is omnipotent until he remembers his nametag.

“It’s a nickname.”

“I’m Indrid.” He opens his eyes, “thank you for letting me come here to calm down. I may actually manage to succeed in my quest now. It’s so hard, I actually enjoy being out around the lights, the feeling of so many people being happy or trying to do kind things for each other. But it’s easy to get overwhelmed, especially when I’m alone.”

“Would it help if you weren’t?”

“Possibly, but I couldn’t ask you to spend even more time in that mall given you work there.” 

“Got some last minute shoppin to do myself. Besides, if you get stuck on a gift, I’m pretty damn good at comin up with ideas.”

“Thank you.” Indrid smiles, excited, and that settles it: Duck is asking for his number after this.

They brave the crowds and the holiday cheer blaring across the speakers once more. The first stop is a store selling housewares, including a pair of small succulents that Indrid deems worthy of giving a friend as he listens to Duck talk about his part time job at the National Forest, laughing when Duck mentions last weeks run-in with a pissed-off migratory bird. 

The next few stores are no help, and they opt to take advantage of the lull between when people are done with school and when people are done with work to hit up the coffeeshop, Indrid ordering a white chocolate peppermint mocha and promptly getting whipped cream on his nose. Duck is tempted to kiss it off, settles for handing his new friend a napkin while he talks about his recent return to Kepler after traveling around the country in a Winnebago, selling his art at shows. As luck would have it, the store has a shelf devoted to artisan or local coffees, and they’re each able to find one for someone on their list. 

Macy's proves more treacherous, and once five o’ clock hits even Duck is feeling cramped. Indrid is tensing, his replies getting short or far off, and just as Duck is about to offer to dip out again, chilly fingers link with his own.

“Is this alright?”

“Better than alright.” He grins and Indrid holds tighter, breathing in through his nose and out his mouth as Duck guides them into a less crowded corner. The do eventually find some high quality hiking socks that Indrid buys, only letting go of Duck in order to pay. 

They reward themselves with dinner at Johnny Rocket, Duck hopping over to Indrid’s side of the booth to see pictures of Emperor and Luna, and show off the photos he has of Pinecone hiding under his ranger jacket. 

“One more stop, thank goodness.” It’s going on seven and Duck has to say he agrees; he loves being around Indrid, but his feet are killing him and he’s had “Jingle Bells” stuck in his head for an hour. 

Indrid’s last item is at Crate and Barrel, and Duck laughs when the other man goes straight to the aprons. 

“You got good taste, I’m gettin’ one of these too. Barclay said he needed a new one.”

A fine-boned hand freezes mid-reach, “Did you say Barclay?”

“Yeah?”

“I am also buying this for a Barclay. Is your Barclay, by chance, dating someone named Joseph and hosting a party tomorrow?”

“Yep.”

They stare at each other, frozen long enough that another shopper passes between them. Then they double over in sync, Duck wheezing out a laugh while Indrid cackles. 

“Holy shit, we’ve been shoppin for the same folks!”

“Barclay mentioned there’d be new people at the party but I never thought one of them would be such a catch.”

Duck gets his breathing in order, steps across the faux-hardwood and takes Indrid’s hand.

“Hey, Indrid? You wanna be my date to the party tomorrow?”

“Absolutely.”

“....wait, fuck, which one of us is gonna give him the apron?”

“You can, I have another idea for him. Consider it an early present from me.” Indrid tease. 

“Sugar,” Duck slips his hands into Indrid’s back pockets, smiling up at him, “you might just be all the present I need.”

[scapegrace74-blog]

Don’t Call It Love

A/N  With Saorsa done and dusted, it’s time to return to the Metric Universe.  When we last left Jamie and Claire in October 2017, they were sharing comforting silence and attending a Depeche Mode concert together.  Will things fall easily into place now that they have tripped over the line from being roommates to being friends?   Oh, hell no.  What would be the fun in that? 

All other parts of the Metric Universe are available on my AO3 page.

The song by Zero 7 (another guest artist!) that inspired the title is here.

Winter, 2017 - London, England

It happened by accident.  Happenstance.  Serendipity.   Fate.  The words she used to explain the fact that she and Jamie started seeing each other outside of the flat in social circumstances that would typically be characterized as dates varied, but her opinion remained fixed.  They weren’t dates.  Jamie was her roommate, a good friend, a fellow enthusiast of the culturally obscure, and a brilliant pub trivia partner.  They had both agreed that a romantic relationship between them would be disastrous; ergo, there was nothing romantic about their increasingly frequent outings.  If she could memorize the names for the 206 bones in the human skeleton, she could certainly manage to keep her feelings for Jamie inside the tidy box she had built for them.

Non-Date #1

They crossed paths inside the massive Spittalfields Market, both of them with shoulders damp from the chilly November rain.  Jamie was on his way to the fishmonger, while Claire carried a cloth bag filled with late-season vegetables, determined to eat something other than take-out on a rare day off from lectures and the hospital.

“Are ye on yer way back tae the flat, then?” Jamie asked, physically fighting the urge to offer to carry Claire’s wee sack.

“No, I’m off to the charnel house first.”

“The what, now?”  Surely he’d misheard her.

“The charnel house.  Don’t tell me you’ve been living over top of a medieval burial ground all this time without realizing it?” Claire teased.

Intrigued as much by her beguiling smirk as the opportunity to explore a bit of London’s history, Jamie followed Claire to a commercial highrise near the edge of the market.  Descending a non-descript stairwell in Bishop’s Square, they came to a halt in front of a glass wall.  On the other side was an excavated ruin, the crypt of the long-vanished chapel of St. Mary’s Spital hospital, a quick scan of a nearby information plaque informed him.

“They only discovered it was here when construction of the office tower began,” Claire said, a wistful look on her face.  “For centuries, travelers and the victims of London’s many plagues were buried around the hospital, quite literally in the Spital fields.  When the graves overflowed, they brought the excess bones here and stacked them for safe-keeping until the Apocalypse.  Imagine, forgetting something so...fundamental.”

Jamie grunted in acknowledgement, seeing the reflection of Claire’s face superimposed on the glass.  He couldn’t decide if this human tendency towards forgetfulness pleased or disappointed her.

“Tis rather...”

“Macabre?” she suggested with a grin, turning away from the display and climbing back into the cloud-roofed square.

“I was gonna say morbid, but as ye like.”

“We build our present on the bones of our past, my Uncle Lamb used to tell me.  He was referring to archaeology, but I’ve found it to be true of life itself.”

They walked back to the flat, collars raised against the hastening rain.  Jamie had bought enough hake for two, so they shared the narrow worktop, dicing fresh vegetables and letting their shoulders bump together occasionally.

Claire ate at the two-person dining table while scrolling social media on her phone.  Jamie used the coffee table to hold his plate and the gaming magazine he was flipping through.

It wasn’t a date.

Non-Date #4

Her cellphone rang as she was leaving the bathroom, thoughts bouncing between her end-of-semester exams and her non-existent plans for the Christmas holidays.  She accepted the call with one hand while starting the tedious job of separating her soaking curls with the other.  At first there was only static.  She glanced at the screen, recognizing the familiar number.

“Jamie?” she tried.

“...mac na ghalla, Hamish...” followed by muffled noises and masculine jeering.  She switched hands and started to towel off, making certain first that the video call button wasn’t active.

“Hal-lo.  Paging Mr. Fraser.  You have a call on line one.”

“Ach, sorry Claire.  I didna mean tae... That is, the lads were just... How are ye?”

She giggled at his discomposure.  “I’m well, thank you.  And you?”  They had seen each other that morning, as he came off shift and she was leaving for her morning lectures, so she assumed there was more to this call than a polite inquiry into her state of well-being.  She had learned over their months as roommates that sometimes you just needed to wait for Jamie to get to his point.

“Braw, thank ye.  I was... weel, I’m at the park with some o’ the lads, tryin’ tae put t’gether a side, an’ we’re short a winger, an’ I was jus’ thinkin’, ye said ye wanted tae learn tae play an’...”

Another James Fraser quirk was that he rambled in broad Scots when he was nervous.

“Jamie, are you asking me to play rugby with you?”

“Aye.  Aye, I am.  If ye wish, o’ course.”

“I did just step out of the shower...” she mentioned, already peering outside at the threatening sky and mentally assessing her wardrobe for something suitable for a ruck and maul in the rain.  “Hello?” when there was no sound from the other end in some time.

“Aye, I’m here.  Nevermind, Claire.  I dinna consider, ye must be gettin’ ready to study fer yer finals, an’...”

“Where are you?” she interrupted, opening a drawer and pulling out a pair of yoga pants.

“Victoria Park?” Jamie replied, sounding hesitant and hopeful.

“Give me twenty minutes.”

“Splendid!”  She could hear his smile down the line.

“I better not get mud in my hair, Fraser,” she retorted before hanging up, her own smile lingering on her face.

There was nothing romantic about rugby.

Non-Date #7

The flat was strangely forlorn, even with Christmas lights twinkling merrily in the living room windows and a tiny fir tree precariously balancing its five ornaments standing in the corner.  

They had exchanged their gifts on December 23rd, sipping on hot chocolate spiked with Kahlua and grinning shyly at each other.  She’d bought Jamie the next Call of Duty game for his XBox.  Nothing intimate, just something he’d mentioned in passing he was looking forward to trying.  His boyish glee upon unwrapping the package warmed her more than her drink.   Hands shaking slightly, she delicately opened the tastefully wrapped rectangle he presented to her.  Inside was a cashmere scarf, luxuriously soft beneath her fingers as she stroked it.

“Is this?” she asked.

“Aye, tis the Fraser plaid.  Ye ken there’s no’ a clan named Bee-cham, right?”

She was deeply touched, and thanked him was a kiss against his scruffy cheek.

Jamie had left for Scotland the next day, having somehow managed to secure a week’s worth of leave from his uncle over the holiday season.   As was her wont, she’d put down for as many shifts as possible while medical school wasn’t in session, but by some fluke she wasn’t scheduled to work New Year’s Eve for the first time in recent memory.

Some of her classmates from nursing college had invited her along to a “raging party in Shoreditch”, but she’d made up some excuse.  The truth was, she wasn’t in the mood for loud music and over-priced drinks with a group of virtual strangers.  If Geillis had been in town, she would have allowed her friend to coerce her into whatever mayhem she had up her sleeve, but Geillis was still in Columbia and eight months’ pregnant with twins, to everyone’s collective shock.  Especially the mother-to-be.

No, what she really wanted was a quiet evening at home, snuggled under her favourite fleece blanket on their couch, the latest Ferrante novel in her lap and a glass of Pinot Noir at the ready.  Jamie had a turntable and a surprisingly well-curated selection of vinyl in his bedroom, but she didn’t like entering his domain without his permission.

Without giving it a second thought, she rang his cell.  It was only upon hearing the raucous sounds of a party in full swing that it occurred to her that just because she was spending New Year’s Eve alone, it didn’t mean Jamie was as well.

“Claire?” he yelled over something that sounded a lot like live music.  “Are ye all right, lass?”

“Oh!  I’m so sorry, Jamie.  I just wanted to ask... never mind.  It’s not important.  Enjoy your party...”

“Wait!” the background noise mutated, sounding like a riot underwater, and then there was a wooden slam.  Jamie huffed a sigh of relief.

“Mu dheireadh.   Are ye still there, Sassenach?”

“Still here,” she confirmed, suddenly feeling sorry for herself.  She might be the most pathetic thirty-year old in London.

“Did the hospital no’ call ye in for a shift, then?”

She tucked the blanket under her feet, warding off the chill that always seemed to creep in from the wall of windows.  The Christmas lights she’d strung reflected against the glazing in alternating colours: blue, red, green, blue, red, green.

“No. By some miracle of the festive season, I have the night off,” she joked halfheartedly.   “I’m sorry for interrupting your night out.  I wanted to ask if I could borrow your turntable and a few of your albums?”

“O’ course.  Ye didna need tae ask.  An’ I’m no’ out.  I’m at home, at Lallybroch.”  He pronounced the word with a guttural flourish that made Claire think of an exotic kind of pastry or a rare tribal custom.  Any time Jamie spoke of his family’s home in Scotland, he imbued it with an otherworldly quality, like a fortress in a fairy tale, a far away land of warriors and mist.  It was strange to think of him there now, while she sat alone in their flat.

“It sounds like quite the party.”

“Aye.  The Frasers take their Hogmanay celebrations verra seriously.  Ye shoulda come wi’ me.”  Then, as though realizing what he’d said, he added quickly, “We could use a doctor.  Dougal sprained his ankle doin’ a sword dance, and Angus singed his arse somethin’ fierce jumpin’ o’er the bonfire.”

She laughed, her mood suddenly much lighter, and asked for more particulars as to how his cousin’s naked ass came to be in close proximity to open flame.  Without either realizing it, the last minutes of 2017 crept by.

Fireworks erupted outside, followed by the tolling of bells and honking of horns.  On the other end of the call, she could hear cheering and an off-key rendition of Auld Lang Syne.  They were both silent, embarrassed to have been so caught up in their trivial conversation as to have missed the arrival of midnight.

“Happy Hogmanay, Sassenach,” Jamie’s voice came soft and sure over the line.

“Happy New Year, Jamie,” she replied.  “I should really let you get back to your party.   Your family must be wondering where you’ve disappeared to.”

He hummed noncommittally.  It occurred to her that had they been in the same place, they would likely be kissing right now.  It sent a shiver of want down her spine.

“Jamie?”  Her voice sounded thready, like she had just woken from a deep sleep.

“Hmmm?”  Shivers, again.

“What’s a Sassenach?”

He laughed softly, and she had to bite her lip.  What was the matter with her?  “Tis a Scottish word for a foreigner, particularly an English one,” he explained.

“You’ve never called me that before,” Claire remarked.

“I’ve ne’er spoken tae ye while on Scottish soil.  T’wasn’t an accurate description ‘til now.”

There was a long silence.  She could hear the sound of revelry through the door of whatever room at Lallybroch he’d hidden inside.  Outside the flat there were firecrackers.   They reminded her of mortar rounds heard from a distance in Afghanistan.

“You don’t like fireworks, do you?” she guessed.  It didn’t take an advanced degree in psychology to know that bright flashes and sudden pops of sound would trigger his PTSD.  They really were a mess, the pair of them.

“Nay.  Jenny an’ Ian’s bairns love them, an’ I told them no’ tae hold off on my account, but they insisted on a bonfire instead.  It reminds me o’ when I was a lad, a’fore ye could buy fireworks along wi’ yer ham at the local Tesco.”

Jamie launched into a long account of the significance of bonfires in Highland culture, and she let herself drift on the melody of his voice, the turntable long forgotten.

“Tell me about yer most memorable New Year’s,” he prompted after his cultural diatribe wound down.

“Oh, well, they all rather blur together, actually.  Too much drink, too much spent on the cover charge.  You know how it is.”

“Nah, I mean when ye were younger.  Ye must ‘ave celebrated in some remarkable places.”

She thought back to her time spent following Uncle Lamb around the globe.  Truth be told, traditional holidays weren’t something that stood out in her memory.  They felt like a foreign custom, a series of drawings taken from a picture book that showed a mother, father and children crowded around a loaded table while snow piled up outside.  They bore no relation to her reality.  It was no wonder Christmas and New Year’s left her feeling ambivalent.

Still, she didn’t want Jamie to feel sorry for her, so she launched into one of her favourite tales.

“One year, I must have been eleven, Lamb was leading an excavation of a Berber oasis town in northern Mali.  The site closed down for the Christian holidays, but Lamb decided to stay behind rather than travel back to England.  We ended up riding camels through these enormous sand dunes, following a local guide on an ancient caravan route.  On December 31st, just as the sun was setting and we had begun to make camp, the camel Lamb had been riding let out this infernal noise, leapt to its feet, and started to gallop away.  Lamb and the guide set off after it on foot, hollering and waving their keffiyeh in the air.  It was the funniest thing.”

“They left ye all alone in the desert?” Jamie asked, horrified.

“Oh, well, they came back eventually.  The camel had been stung by a scorpion, you see.  Once it got over the fright, they were able to catch it and bring it back to camp.”

“Were ye no’ scared, tae be out there in the dark by yerself?”

“No.  Not as I remember it.  The sunset was glorious, and little by little the sky came alive with a million stars.”

“Ye brave wee thing.”  Jamie sighed.  “I wish I was there wi’ ye.”

She didn’t know if he meant with her on that sand dune, or with her at their flat.  Either way, her answer was the same.

“I wish you were too.”

They finally hung up well past two o’clock.  It didn’t count as a date if the other person was five hundred miles away as you whispered goodnight.

Non-Date #12

The Royal London was expanding its pediatrics wing, and Claire was invited to a fundraising gala held, fittingly, in the Museum of Childhood.  The invitation included a plus one, and she’d been putting off asking Jamie if he could join her all week.  It wasn’t that she doubted his suitability as an escort.  Far from it.  But the gala was taking place on February 14th, of all nights, and the symbolism made her nervous.  Still, the alternative was spending the night being hit on by a drunken internist or hedge fund investor, and that was a headache she could do without.

“So,” she began casually a few nights before the event, “any plans for Valentine’s Day?”  If he said he was working or had, god forbid, a date, she would just have to go stag.

Jamie set down his gaming controller and turned to face her desk.  The pulsing  colours from the screen lit his curls like a neon nimbus in the dim room.

“Nah, nothin’ definite.  An’ ye, Sassenach?” he asked tentatively, as though easing himself out onto a frozen lake, unsure of the depth of the ice.  The nickname he had assigned to her during his holidays in Scotland had stuck.  She didn’t correct the inaccuracy, as she rather liked the idea of having a name that was only his.

“Well, I’ve been summoned to a fundraising gala for the hospital, and I was wondering... not that you need feel obliged... it’s black tie, which is really the height of pretension, if you ask me... anyway, there’s no way to decline gracefully short of an aneurysm, so...”

“Out wi’ it, Sassenach,” he prodded.

“Mightyouconsiderbeingmydate?” she blurted, before taking a large gulp of tepid tea.

“Yer date?” he asked as though he had never heard of such a thing.

She sighed, resigned to the fact he was going to make this difficult.  “Yes.  My date.  My plus one.  My social companion.  And hopefully, my defence against spending the evening being pitied and set up with someone’s second cousin, Nigel, the chartered accountant.”

“Do ye have somethin’ against accountants, then?”  The corner of his lip was twitching with the birth of a grin.

“Oh, very funny, you bloody Scot.  Look, I need a date on Valentine’s Day and you are the only man in the Greater London Area who won’t interpret that as an opportunity for a pity shag.   The offer is on the table.  Take it or leave it.”

Something flashed behind his eyes that she couldn’t interpret.  Then it was gone.

“Ne’er fear, Sassenach.  I’ll protect ye from all the wee Nigels.”

***

She’d forgotten to ask whether Jamie had suitable attire for a black tie event.   It was too late now, regardless.  They were meeting at the museum, since she was on shift until eight.  Using the nurses on-call room to get changed, she slinked into her burgundy chiffon gown, its gauzy layers wrapping around her like millefeuille.   Her hair was a lost cause, so she slicked it back into a tight bun at the nape of her neck and hoped for the best.  Silver chandelier earrings and a dab of cologne below her jaw, and she was ready to go.  She carried a small beaded clutch and her dress shoes - there was no way she was navigating the Tube in stilettos. 

The museum was a single massive space, conversation and the tympani of glassware echoing against its high-arched ceiling.  She stood in the entryway after checking her coat, spinning in circles and trying to get her bearings.  More than one lascivious glance was directed her way, but she studiously ignored them in favour of looking for Jamie.  With his height and red hair, he shouldn’t be hard to pick out of the crowd.

There was an appreciative murmur from behind her, a gust of fresh air, and then a soft tap against her bare shoulder.  She turned around.

No.  Not hard to pick out from a crowd at all.  Standing before her was James Fraser in full Highland regalia.  He wore his family tartan, a black velvet waistcoat, brilliant white dress shirt and a black bow tie.  When her gaze fell to the floor, she noticed his polished brogues and white socks pulled up to his knees.  She’d never before considered how a man’s knees might be alluring, but there it was.   Jamie had very sexy knees.

“G’d evening, Sassenach.  Ye look... weel, ye look bonnie.”  Jamie’s normally deep voice was gruffer than usual, perhaps on account of the cold night air.  Or maybe his bowtie was tied too tight.

“Good evening, Jamie,” she replied once she found her voice.  “You look, well, if you were a Jacobite, I’d say you looked regal.”

The tops of Jamie’s ears went red, and he ducked his chin, his tamed curls falling briefly forward.  It gave him the look of a bashful child receiving unexpected praise, completely at odds with the strikingly masculine figure he cut.

“No’ a Nigel, then?” he teased.

“No.  Definitely not a Nigel.  Come, let’s get something to drink before all the top-shelf liquor runs out.  You wouldn’t believe how much some of these doctors can put away!”

Jamie was a perfect date.  He stood by her elbow as she mingled and greeted various colleagues and professors, nodding at their tales of medical misfortune and smiling at their awkward jokes.  He spoke confidently about his work and current affairs, and patiently tolerated endless jibes about what a true Scotsman wore beneath his kilt.

When she politely excused them from one such conversation, he leaned over to whisper in her ear as they walked away to fortify themselves with more alcohol.

“I’ve a mind tae lift my plaid an’ moon the entire assembly the next time one o’ yer wee doctor friends asks about my underthings.  Are ye sure they arena raising funds for a new proctology department, Sassenach?”

She snorted in a truly unladylike fashion and turned to meet his unrepentant smirk.  Just then, a figure approaching from the bar caught her eye.

Oh no.  It couldn’t be.  After five years, she’d finally relaxed her vigilance, had ceased anticipating his presence at every turn, and now, here he was.

“Sassenach?” Jamie was watching her with concern.  The blush had drained from her cheeks, leaving her wine-stained lips and sintering eyes the only colour on her face.

“Claire!  Fancy meeting you here!”  Had his voice always been so nasal?  His eyes so glassy and vacant, like portals into nothingness.  He’d obviously been drinking heavily.  A blond woman half his age had her arm linked through his.

“Frank,” she uttered his name.  Jamie stepped into her side, his posture erect, somehow sensing that she needed his protection from this unheralded threat.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise.  I’d heard you’d gone into the army, or some such thing.  Afghanistan, was it?  Well, with your penchant for violence, I suppose that’s fitting.”

She breathed deeply through her nose.  She would not let him get the better of her.  She wasn’t that person anymore.  With a clammy hand, she grabbed onto Jamie’s fingers where they rested around her hip.  He squeezed back.  He was here.   She wasn’t alone.  It was all the strength she needed.

“Yes, that’s right.  I served overseas for a time, but I’m back in London now.  In medical school.   Now, if you’ll excuse us, we were just leaving.”

Focusing on each step, she turned towards the exit, Jamie’s hand now warm upon the small of her back.  Her chin wobbled, but she bit down hard to stave off tears.

“A doctor?” Frank taunted from behind her.  “Wouldn’t a demolition expert be more apropos, darling?”

She froze, spine trembling with anger.  Jamie made a questioning noise, asking without words if she wanted him to intervene.   She didn’t.

Glancing over her shoulder, she dealt her parting blow.

“Give my best to Amelia and the children.”  Without waiting to witness the aftermath of her pronouncement, she made her way out into the chilly night air, Jamie’s bulk a silent sentinel at her side.

It wasn’t a date if it ended on the floor of your bathroom, crying ugly sobs as mascara stained your cheeks, while your partner held your shoulders and made soothing noises with his throat.  

That wasn’t dating, that was survival.

***

mac na ghalla = son of a bitch

Mu dheireadh = finally

[dreampeople]

29 Hours - a short story

synopsis: In the midst of Lena and Nevada trying to establish their own roots in Chicago Lena stumbles across a promising lead that could finally reunite her with her family, embarking the two of them on an impromptu road trip.

words: 2.3k

- written for “OCtober” Day 1, Prompt: “Journey” (prompts via @oc-growth-and-development)

read under the cut:

They’d found them.

Lena’s family was back in Glendale—or so they believed. The process of gathering all the documents they needed in order to be properly re-assimilated into society had led her to a faded, old address on her birth certificate she suspected she had been too young to know, the only other in her memory being the one in Chicago, which they’d found splintered, dusty and empty upon arrival there. The promise Nevada had made to her to find them had gotten lost among their mess of loose ends and their laborious efforts of building a foundation for themselves, but now that things were beginning to settle Nevada was finally able to fulfill it, and was glad to. She was also terrified. She’d barely been out of prison for a year, and employed for less than half of that time, and the ink on their lease was practically still wet enough to smudge. Though things had settled, Nevada felt that the slightest shift could cause everything to fall out from underneath them, which is why a cross-country trip to a place not even guaranteed to keep Lena’s family didn’t seem the best for their stability, but Nevada had kept her waiting long enough, she thought.

In their reconstruction of a new life together, Lena had also been caught in a slow state of recollection, memories of a life that seemed so far in the past materializing from cloudy static to clear color from the simplest of triggers. Just days before the passing scent of a hearty stew from a neighbor’s open window sent her ten years into the past and into the kitchen with her father, where she heard him swear for the first time after slicing into his finger instead of a carrot. Setting eyes upon that old address brought her to a memory she couldn’t understand why she remembered so vividly, of her father briefly mentioning to her when she was a child that they had lived with her grandparents for a while when she was born, before living in the home that she’d left most of herself in. Albeit the conclusion that they—her father and brother—just had to have moved back there, and that they couldn’t be anywhere else in the world, was loosely and desperately founded, the sun was rising on the final minutes of their 29 hour drive.

The truck’s weak heater had been on the entire ride and was raising the stench of the weary leather interior and started to burn the inside of Lena’s nostrils. She turned her nose towards the window for relief, not getting much. She was also starting to get really, really queasy, wanting to attribute it to the lengthy car ride rather than her bubbling doubts. Nevada had been eyeing her the entire drive to make sure she was comfortable, a small part of her also wanting to make sure she didn’t vanish into thin air while she wasn’t looking. Though completely impossible and ridiculous and by all means had no chance of happening, the wavering air around Lena lately made it seem like to the most irrational bit of Nevada that it could happen. In the days leading up to their trip Lena had grown quieter and quieter despite her initial excitement upon discovering the lead, adding onto the nerves that Nevada was attempting to dispel through her wiggling and tapping fingertips against the wheel.

“Gettin’ hot?” she asked, not waiting for a response, redirectioning the vent nearest to Lena toward herself. Lena smiled gently at the gesture.

“I’m ok,” she rested her head against the window. Nevada licked her lips, trying not to pry, giving her attention back to the road. They were only a handful of turns away now. Lena slid a hand onto Nevada’s knee, hoping to convince, and hoping to console both their nerves.

“Hope I’m not under-dressed,” Nevada said after a while, trying to lighten things. A laugh slid out of Lena’s nose and she gave her knee a soft squeeze. Instead of lightening things the weight of Lena’s doubts finally broke her, and she let out a long, full breath.

“God, I hope they’re here. I hope they’re here,” She pulled her palms over her eyes then through her hair. Nevada’s gut quaked for her. She pulled her hand back onto her leg, holding it there for the rest of the ride.

“They will be,” she reassured.

The west coast winter was much softer than the daggering cold of Illinois, but Nevada still wriggled against the air as they got out of the truck. They would have passed the house entirely if Lena hadn’t quickly spotted the vinyl numbers on the mailbox, then the matching plaque set against the narrow brick wall beside the front door. The house looked drenched in sepia, as if they were stepping into a photograph as they ascended the few steps leading to the porch, the brick and wooden door and concrete beneath them and glass all coated in a layer of time, as if it had indeed served multiple generations. There was no driveway, which gave neither of them any time to do any last mental preparations; as soon as they had parked they were face to face with, for Lena, a home her mind couldn’t claim but her heart panged to, and for Nevada, another potential trial, or a relief, or at worst, an end, a devil between her ears told her.

Neither of them spoke. Nevada wanted to grab for Lena’s hand but it was already clutching the sleeve of her jacket. She could feel her trembling. She took a breath and knocked for her. After a moment they both could see a shape moving to and fro behind the bevel of the peephole. A man’s hesitant yet hefty voice called out, asking who it was. Lena’s eyes prayed up to Nevada for an answer, who nudged her on with a look of half certainty.

“Lena,” she shuttered out.

They both waited. For a second she wasn’t sure, but Lena began hearing syllables and rhythms of a language she thought she had forgotten, the voice going from a whisper to a shout from behind the door, footsteps waning and returning after what seemed like an eternity before the door finally opened, warmth blowing past the two figures behind it directly through the two girls. Lena’s insides swelled and overflowed all at once when she was met with her father’s face, and then her grandmother’s from behind his shoulders, who immediately began to sob. Nevada felt Lena’s entire weight on her arm as she clung harder, as if she herself now was trying not to vanish into thin air. Her father reached out through the door frame, pleading to touch something material, and the second his fingertips grazed Lena’s shoulder, the two of them nearly collapsed into each other’s arms.

The process was repeated once her brother emerged from farther in the house, he and Lena killing each other with their embrace. For what seemed like another eternity Nevada watched from a respectful distance, tucked into herself, as Lena returned to a reality long lost, one she was convinced she would never see or live again. Her face grew solemn and her head dizzy with feelings of tenderness and complete and total dread.

They sat until dusk doing nothing but talking, all the time spent barely on the past year, nothing of the decade Lena had lost even covered yet, aside from how her family ended up back in California. Her grandmother began to weep again at the idea of her self declared selfishness stretching the distance between them and Lena; her wanting her son back home after he’d lost his wife and daughter, her fear of him being next, of their bloodline dwindling, her horrors of a dangerous and foreign land she’d hoped for her family to thrive in coming to fruition, picking them off one by one. She and Lena’s father pleaded for her forgiveness for transgressions that Lena didn’t recognize, for not saving her, for not having the omniscence to shield her from the guaranteed trouble of the world. Lena had never protested so loud and hard in her life. By the end of the night her spirit was exhausted and dry, yet simultaneously so, so unbelievably full.

Her family had never even thought to ask who her escort was until dinner, which ended up being takeout rather than the feast her grandmother had planned for this exact moment. Nevada, grateful at first, ended up confessing to every sin she committed anyway, her food gone cold by the time she finished. That night, they granted each other salvation, and answered their own prayers.

Lena regained the past decade in the days that followed—her family made sure of it—how her brother hadn’t made a single friend or played baseball since she was gone and her father his bass, how desolation had flushed itself into all four walls of their home, rotting and decimating it beyond its years. They showed her a room completely made up of her adolescence that had been awaiting her return: the same white wooden dresser holding her freshman wardrobe, a pair of pale and undersized ballet slippers hanging from the foot of her bed, that bed dawning the quilt she made with her grandmother when she was 12, its comfort she’d longed for probably more than anything else. She and Nevada could barely fit underneath it, or in the bed for that matter, but Lena had never looked more at peace to her.

Lena’s family and their kindness was enough to smother Nevada’s worries at first, but as she lay crooked in her lover’s old bed, the iron frame creaking with any breath of hers that was too heavy, it crept back up to the surface, glazed over her eyes, stiffening her awake. Nevada tried to soften her breaths and thus the creaking, her self-awareness coupled with gape in her gullet starting to suffocate her. She was hyperventilating, Lena waking in a flurry to calm her.

Nevada gave lax sips to the glass of ice water Lena had gotten her, the two of them sat on the floor against the side of the bed. The hand Lena had massaging Nevada’s shoulder crept up her neck and across her cheekbone, her thumb fondly caressing its deep crevice. Nevada’s eyes remained glued to the floor. Thankfully no one else in the house had been disturbed.

“What’s up?” Lena’s voice sounded like the night. Nevada folded into her touch, trying to find the words. Over the past few days Lena was beaming with light she’s never known was within her. She started feeling dizzy again.

“Hey,” Lena adjusted to face her, her fingers tracing her jawline, then the curve of her outer ear, then holding her right cheek entirely, forcing her to meet her eye when she didn’t respond.

Nevada stammered before finding them. “Is this ok?”

Lena paused, confused at first.

“What do you mean?”

“This,” Nevada eyed the perimeter of the room.

Lena blinked at her.

“Of course it’s ok,” she was now kneeling in front of her, holding her by both arms. The wooden floor whined underneath them.

A corner of Nevada’s mouth turned up into a weak grin. Lena thought her eyes shined like pearls through the room’s blackness. “Are you happy?”

More than she knew she was capable of being. More than she thought she would ever deserve. But she knew what she meant.

“Yeah,” she said after hesitating. It sounded like another confession.

Nevada ached, smiling harder, her eyes glossier. She took in Lena’s pleading expression, and how the moonlight tinged her cheeks a sweet blue, her curtain of curls swallowing both their arms as she pulled her face closer to hers, pressing her hard, smile into Lena’s now quivering lips. She kissed her long and dourly before pulling her back into bed with her.

Lena pooled into her side and also ached; she knew what she meant. Her being happy here in Nevada’s mind meant being less so with her, and right now it was the truth. Lena had grown to love Nevada so much it could have killed her, and it certainly felt like now that it would, but it had been years, and this was her family. She knew Nevada was different now and would understand this, but even so her heart felt full of daggers.

“You can stay here,” she muttered, her voice cracking.

“No, I can’t, Lena. I can’t,” she said to the ceiling. She felt Lena squirm beside her, her grip around her waist tightening desperately before she sat up, straddling her. Lena looked down at her, watching her somber smile break down within their silence.

“You’ve waited long enough,” she said.

The next morning was much warmer than Nevada had felt in a while. She was glad Lena would be getting a little more sunshine again. She loaded the last of her luggage into the flatbed, it halved in size since their arrival, and went ahead and warmed up the motor. Lena stood a few steps away on the sidewalk, holding herself. Nevada glided towards her with her hands in her coat pockets with another phony, stupid looking smile, Lena holding back tears. She slid her arms between the slit of Nevada’s, smothering herself into her neck and chest. Nevada welcomed her for a final time, running her hands across her waist and back feverishly, clinging to her tightly and endlessly, in one last attempt to make the two of them one again. She felt her tears crawling into the divots of her collarbone, peeling her back for a kiss.

“Can you just give me time?” Lena whispered, smudging her tear stains deeper into Nevada’s crew neck. “Please?”

Nevada wanted to kick herself for making her beg, for making her cry at all. She hadn’t even expected the option in all her panic and all-or-nothingness. Lena knew this was different about her now, too, that she had learned patience within the past few years, hoping she could give it to her.

She didn’t have to hope, and Nevada didn’t have to even think.

“Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”