#only takes a snowstorm for me to get my bearings together and catch up with everything that's piling up

[canariie]

For your reblogs milestone requests (congratulations!!) If this pings you, I'd love to see Hitsugaya + Hinamori + CAMPING. Good trip, bad trip, planned, unplanned, business, pleasure... Any kind of camping and any kind of tone!

how to start a fire

Rating: K+

“Hinamori, you’re imagining things—go to sleep.”

“I am not,” she hissed, with a little more bite than intended. She was still bitter about their squabble. “I know there’s something out there.” She turned to her backpack, fumbling around in the dark as she searched for the flashlight. “Did you read the information pack that Hisagi-san had sent? Apparently, this used to be a habitat for bears.”

“Yes, and I read the amended version Ise-fuukutaicho sent—the local bear population has become endangered. The only thing we’re in danger of is losing our sleep,” he grumbled.

…

Momo is sent to train Toushiro in the World of the Living in combination kido.

Word Count: 3670 words

Setting: after the Bleach Anniversary Hell Chapter

Prompt: @hitsuhina-week Gift Exchange 2023 for @whipplefilter

"maybe we didn't argue, but we don't agree"/ "Hitsugaya asks Hinamori to teach him her kidou-weaving"/"HitsuHina from unexpected/outside POVs"

Authour’s Note: This is SO LATE IN ALL THE SENSES. Firstly, because Whipple sent this request in like, summer. And then I was matched with them for the Gift Exchange which I thought I could make! but holidays! & falling sick! (are we really ever as productive as we would like over the holidays??)

(Thank you @rays-of-fire-and-ice for being understanding!)

When I saw the prompts that Whipple sent, I immediately thought of their initial fic request & thought it was such a perfect thing to combine! Unfortunately, I couldn't get in the Hitsuhina from an outside POV but maybe one day in the future!

I had a lot of fun trying to flesh this out and was really happy to go back to writing after so long! However, I believe much like the rest of the fandom, life is going to get busy in the coming months for me and I won't be as active in writing as I would like to :( I hope to still participate in events but it does really inspire me reading everyone's work when I come back to try to write on my own!!

Happy New Year everyone! Here's hoping 2024 is one with happiness and laughter and fun for everyone!!

I hope you all enjoy this!

---

Momo dropped her duffel bag and began to rummage around it, pushing overnight clothes and toiletries aside. “Here’s a clearing: we can proceed here.”

Toushiro looked around skeptically, noting the abandoned fire pits and wooden pavilions in the distance. “Won’t we be disturbing the humans?”

“Soutaicho had reserved the whole camping ground area while the Twelfth Division set up a barrier that would send any human that would walk towards the training facilities, confused but turned around.” She swallowed the gikon pill, feeling her human body leave her as if she were shedding a coat off.

The tenth captain raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t the Kido Corps have facilitated that?”

Momo shrugged, though she admitted she wondered about the ethics of the research division sometimes. “All the training leaders were assured that they wouldn’t be harmed. Nanao-san also reiterated that each cell would be allocated a parcel of the forest—so we don’t have to worry about anyone else while we train.”

With the new frontier of Hell on the line, the Gotei 13 were implementing new training tactics to prepare for the unknown battle. Each division had received a list of candidates for leaders of the cell groups—specific internal training groups to provide targeted instruction on skills soldiers may find lacking. Momo had been selected from the Fifth Division to lead high level kido proficiency, specifically on combination spells. The leaders ranged in rank, from captains to lieutenants and even high ranked seated officers. She had heard later from Matsumoto, Ikkaku had been selected to lead swordsmanship skills, Isane for healing during combat, a fourth seat in the eighth division for defensive spells among many. The cell groups would then be volunteers from across the Gotei 13 that would train with the leaders in World of the Living on a reserved human camping site.

Momo had been flattered (even when her captain had bemoaned jokingly why he hadn’t been picked) but was also left feeling disconcerted at the letter.

A few weeks ago, there was an expedition team sent out earlier to understand the spells and mechanisms that opened Hell’s Doors as well as scope its initial terrain. The list was short and concise with only a few captains and lieutenants selected. Renjii & Rukia were on the list as they had already prior experience in the hellscape. Momo had been keen to go, as she heard her name was nominated by Rukia to help with kido to break down the entrance. However, the day before the mission, her name was taken off the list with a curt note saying that her kido services would no longer be required. During the prior lieutenant’s meeting Renjii looked at her with a regretful glance, squeezing her shoulder sympathetically and she later received an apology Hell Butterfly from the Thirteen Captain before the expedition team left.

Momo had walked back to the Fifth Division in a daze, feeling a bit bereft at the sudden change in plans. The shock must have been evident on her face as her captain immediately took one look at her before bringing her to the couch and placing a warm cup of tea in her hands.

“Hitsugaya-taicho seems to have requested you for your first training session.”

“Why?” Momo asked. She had been reviewing the list of volunteers who wanted to train with her and was surprised at the number of people. If she were to spend time with each one, she would have to remain in the World of the Living for at least a month.

However, she had not seen Toushiro’s name on her initial list—much less expected him to volunteer. The tenth captain was quick on his feet in battle and she never assumed his skills were lacking.

Hirako-taicho shrugged. “Maybe he wants a brush up as well? I know he had gone on the Hell Expedition Team & him and the little Kuchiki realized there was some reworking off spells to be done.”

That got Momo to pause as she was sorting through the files. It had been a couple of weeks since the team had returned from Hell. “Hitsugaya-taicho had joined the expedition?” As far as she knew, he was never a candidate for the expedition, and he hadn’t mentioned anything like that to her.

Her captain stilled, his eyes avoiding her questioning look. “I believe he was the last-minute change…”

“Hirako-taicho—why did Hitsugaya-kun go on the expedition?”

He sighed in quiet exasperation. “I heard from Abarai that Hitsugaya-taicho requested you off the mission,” he said reluctantly. “And when there was no other candidate to go, he volunteered himself.”

“And why would he do that?” she asked quietly, still processing what she had heard.

Hirako shook his head, his bangs falling away from his eyes. “He never brought it up at the captain’s meeting. He went directly to the Soutaicho & the expedition team.”

The news sat with Momo as she prepared her training plan and packed her bags to go the World of the Living. The unease festered inside of her, leaving her with feelings of self-doubt and anxiety. She found herself unable to sleep well and only when she stepped onto the campgrounds and breathed in the fresh air, could she feel the tension loosening in her shoulder.

Momo had an earlier departure time and was preparing the grounds when the Tenth Captain dropped in, much later in the evening when the sky was hedging into dusk. It had been the first time they had seen each other in a long while, and Momo was still feeling unsettled—so introductions were short, and she immediately led him to the training area where she was now beginning a demonstration. If the boy noticed anything unusual, he made no comment and followed suit.

Momo slipped into teaching mode, something she had learned while part-timing at the academy to help compartmentalize her life as a lecturer separate from a lieutenant.

“We’ll start off with one of my prior combination spells in battle: from during the Winter War era when Rangiku-san and I had to fight the three arrancars.” She avoided looking at Toushiro for she knew much after the fact that he hadn’t approved of her coming onto the battlefield—which apparently, things still hadn’t changed between them. “Let me show you first.”

The girl lifted her hands in front of her, demonstrating as she spoke. “The strength of the spell also comes from the foundation of the pose. I know after we graduate and go into battle, it’s very easy to skip this step as we’ve become comfortable with the incantations.” She moved her hands as if they were framing a triangle. “However, as we introduce combination spells, I find that there’s strength in using combative stances with defensive spells and vice versa.”

Her student nodded along, with a furrow in his eyebrows that Momo knew he was mentally taking notes.

“It started off with Hadou 12 Fuishibi: I had used it as a defensive base before obscuring it with a concealment spell.”

“That was Kyokou, right?” Toushiro piped in.

She nodded in affirmation. “Yes—that was the key to catching the arrancar off. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to blindside them in the initial attack.”

Toushiro’s eyebrow raised slowly, almost as if he were impressed if Momo had to guess. “That’s quite commendable that you were able to weave that many kidou together—especially for your first time.”

Momo had to stop herself from reacting openly to that. She hadn’t remembered telling him that it was her first attempt, a decision crossed in between luck and adrenaline. However, she had a lot to prove—and evidently, there were still people that doubted her.

“However, the key is finding the right igniting spell: Shakaho is a common one and it doesn’t matter how proficient you are in kidou—it’ll still give you the right amount of power you need.”

She beckoned with her head, her arms still held in front of her in stance. “You can follow me for now and then we can try separately on our own, Hitsugaya-taicho.”

When he mirrored suit, she started reciting the incantations—pausing in between lines to explain the steps.

“You start trying to imagine a series of lines, crossing each other. Imagine the intersection and focus on that. Personally, for me, it helps to visualize the centers becoming brighter to build a stronger net.”

“Like Bakudo #4, Hainawa?”

Momo winced, sensing the kidou web pull away from her. “Not really. It’s the foundation—it’s not the main goal. You’re setting up trajectory for the blast to follow.”

“Is it necessary to recite the full spell?”

“Sort of—I find it helpful to not focus fully on the incantation but instead what it represents. Breaks down the rigidity of the tradition and make it more malleable in combining different spells.”

“How do you control the scale of the net?”

“It’s all in the visualization—you need to imagine it,” she responded quickly as she felt herself faltering. The net grew dimmer and wilted, like a flower causing Momo to repeat the previous line again. She wasn’t used to being interrupted so often.

“When do you switch hand positions?”

“Hold on Hitsugaya—”, Momo could feel the net pull away from her like a storm wind catching hold of a kite. She proceeded forward and, in her haste, she skipped two lines ahead in the incantation.   

The effects were immediate with the strings of the net burning brighter and brighter. Momo faltered, immediately stopping the incantation but it was too late. The net hummed in power before it exploded, sending sparks back at the shinigami & the wooden structures.

Momo could only watch as Toushiro immediately called a cool wind forth to snuff out the embers, leaving just a sizzling trail of smoke as the remains of the misspell.

“I think we better call it for the night,” he said with a measured tone, evaluating the scene.

The slip back into their gigai was so quiet and routine that even the shift of corporeal bodies couldn’t cut the thick tension between the two. The moon was hanging high & alone by the time they had returned silently back to their campsite.

Momo immediately started collecting broken branches and twigs to start the fire. She kept her head down, repeating the recent events in her head over and over. Even though Toushiro had been peppering her with questions, she knew she was accustomed to that from teaching new recruits—and inwardly Momo knew that it was her earlier feelings towards the young captain that made her mess up the incantation. There was a strong part of her that was ashamed for getting her emotions get in the way of teaching—something she had promised herself she would learn to keep professional and private matters separate.

Momo sighed deeply, walking back to their clearing, and dumping the wood into the firepit. As she rearranged the pieces into a tented position, she could feel Toushiro’s eyes on her—much like earlier, observing quietly and learning.

“It’s to help structure the flame,” she explained quietly. Momo pulled some newspapers she had brought with her and began shredding them over the pit.

“How do you know how to do this?”

“Hirako-taicho and I went on camping trips as a way to get to know each other when we first started working together. The other Vizards would also join us as well.”

Toushiro rolled his eyes. “It still amazes me how he can circumvent rules to do it.” It was an offhand comment, nothing out of the ordinary for the young captain. However, at that moment it deeply grated at her nerves, and it struck raw.

Momo snapped a branch in her hand. “Hirako-taicho completes his work as necessary. He also doesn’t cross the line—unlike you Hitsugaya-taicho.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about, Hinamori?”

“You pulled rank and took me off the Hell expedition,” she said curtly, yanking out the matchstick box from her pocket and snapping the match strong against the box.

There was a pause where Momo could only hear the friction of the match. “You’re not ready,” Toushiro said carefully, as if he were approaching a skittish creature. “There are far too many unknowns, and the risk is too great.”

“You had no business deciding to do so.” The match didn’t catch, and Momo cursed under her breath as she flicked it to the ground. She pulled another one out and began again.

“Other lieutenants were pulled off as well, it came down to essential personnel only.”

“No, Hitsugaya-taicho, you are a captain of the Tenth Division and were overstepping your bounds. Kuchiki-san had requested me on that mission for my skills and you decided to pull me off.”

The match ignited brightly in her hands. Momo dropped it into the pile of wood where it immediately spurred into large flames. She looked up to see the fire reflecting in his turquoise eyes, resolute.

“If I had to do it again, I would,” he said solemnly, holding his ground across the fire from her.

“Well that’s the difference between us, Hitsugaya-taicho—I would be honest with someone if I didn’t think they were good enough.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he sighed.

Momo straightened her shoulders back and stared firmly back at him through the flames. “I am a lieutenant of the Fifth Division, I have earned my way to serve the Gotei 13—whether you like it or not.”  

--

Dinner was a quiet tense affair with the two of them eating their packed meals quite far and separated from each other. Momo had already started to feel awful from such negative feelings, but on principle she held her ground, quickly scarfing down her onigiri.

They had changed in silence to their sleeping clothes, each taking turns to watch shift before tucking into their respective sleeping bags across the fire pit. In the absence of a “good night,” Momo felt remorse, and found herself consciously holding back from asking if Toushiro was awake.

When they were younger, they’d climb up onto the thatched roofs to stargaze during the night. The hay would itch at bare skin and it would always take the two of them a while to get settled, but when they had found their spots, it was like the world quieted again and they lost themselves in counting the constellations. Sometimes she would speak and Toushiro would respond, in either one sentence responses or noises of affirmation—but always honest. And when it became too quiet to speak, the two would just lie in silence. It was those peaceful moments that would ground Momo whenever she was away studying in the academy; where it felt like possibilities were endless, but home was right behind her, keeping her grounded and safe.

But that felt like a different lifetime with too much death in between to tie them to the same life.

A loud rustle startled Momo from her stupor.

She pushed herself up off the ground. “Did you hear that?”

There was another sound, a creak.

“Hitsugaya-kun,” Momo called out, a twinge of fear creeping into her voice.

“I’m trying to sleep,” he groused.

She persisted, sitting up and listening carefully. The fire crackled and hissed, and Momo strained to hear through the crackle of the fire. Internally she felt at lost without being able to detect the rieatsu of whatever was out there.

“Hinamori, you’re imagining things—go to sleep.”

“I am not,” she hissed, with a little more bite than intended. She was still bitter about their squabble. “I know there’s something out there.” She turned to her backpack, fumbling around in the dark as she searched for the flashlight. “Did you read the information pack that Hisagi-san had sent? Apparently, this used to be a habitat for bears.”

“Yes, and I read the amended version Ise-fuukutaicho sent—the local bear population has become endangered. The only thing we’re in danger of is losing our sleep,” he grumbled.

“I forgot how grumpy you get when you don’t get your sleep,” Momo murmured.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

A rustle was heard and Toushiro shot up, his eyes much alert. “I think there’s something approaching.”

Momo fought the urge to roll her eyes as she fished out the flashlight. “That’s what I was saying.”

A twig broke and immediately Toushiro slipped a gikon pill in, his human body falling back onto the sleeping bag.

“I’m not going to use Hyourinmaru—the weather changes will alert the humans nearby.”

Momo rustled through her duffle bag, pulling things out rapidly. “I can’t find my gikon pills—I must have left them at the training site.”

Toushiro stepped in front of her sleeping bag, his stance defensive as he mimicked Momo’s earlier pose from the training session. “I’ll handle it. I’ll use the kido weaving to stop whatever it is in its tracks.”

That got Momo to pause. “Wait, Hitsugaya-kun—I’m not sure if you’re ready.”

He started to chant, slow and steady as the noise picked up. Momo could only focus on her heart racing that she almost missed the slip of incantation: Toushiro had skipped a line—a very crucial line.

“Hitsugaya-kun—you forgot—”

The threads burned amber, casting a bright glow against the surrounding boundary of trees before they began to constrict against themselves. The woven net grew and expanded, closing in around the two of them instead of pushing outward. Toushiro realizing his error, quickly turned around and crouched over Momo as the net imploded into great sparks, rivaling a fireworks show.

The rustling noise got louder and two of them could only look up as the bush rumbled and rustled—before a bunny slipped out. It stared comically at the two of them, cocking its head to the side before hoping through the campgrounds as the two childhood friends watched.

A bubble of laughter escaped from Momo’s mouth which earned her an exasperated look from her friend above her. Toushiro’s hair was mussed with grey soot streaking the spiky edges; he looked like the human confection of a burnt marshmallow—which made Momo laugh even harder.

“This isn’t funny,” he grumbled, swiping away at his face with soot coming off.

“It kind of is,” she continued to laugh. “I’m sure when you get back into your gigai, it’ll go away.”

Whatever previous tension that was there before, disappeared and now there was a lightness as the two young shinigami cleaned up the area. The campfire that had been blazing strong before had calmed down to a dying ember, its small spark still burning bright against the night.

Momo cleared her throat, sheepishly looking down. “Would you mind if we pull these closer?” she gestured towards the distanced sleeping bags.

Toushiro shook his head. “No, not at all.”

After rearranging the bags, the two settled in quietly, lying on their backs and looking up at the stars. Momo sighed in content, feeling a lot more at peace than before but still wanted to clear the air about one more thing.

“Hitsugaya-kun,” she whispered.

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry for yelling at you today.”

There was a long pause and she had wondered if he had heard her. “I deserved it. I apologize for not being transparent with you.”

Momo raised an eyebrow. “The great Hitsugaya-taicho is apologizing to me?”

“Oh, shut it.” Even though it was dark, she could hear the eyeroll in his voice. “And I’ve done it before,” he added softly.

“I know.” Momo remembered it well, especially after the Winter War. “But those for things that were out of your control. This is for something you deliberately did.”

The young girl heard him sigh deeply. “It’s something I’m working on,” he conceded.

“Rangiku-san put you up to it?”

“Something like that…” he drifted off.

“Well…” Momo tucked the blanket around her tighter her shoulders. “Thank you.”

When he didn’t say anything back, she continued on, speaking softly. “You need to trust me—I understand you’re worried, but you can’t go around making decisions on my behalf without talking to me.” She turned onto her side and faced him. “I can take care of myself, Hitsugaya-kun.”

He sighed. “I know you can—I don’t doubt it at all.”

“Then what makes this different?” Momo whispered.

Toushiro was silent for a while before turning to her. “It’s what we don’t know—everything we’ve been taught feels…upended.” He grimaced & even in the dark she could see the storm brewing in his eyes. “Ukitake-taicho, the Soutaicho…they’re all there now. It feels like the rules have changed and things are out of control.”

Momo smiled sympathetically before reaching a hand across, and gently placing it on his shoulder. “I know. I’m scared too. I’m scared for everyone at the Fifth, for Hirako-taicho, Rangiku-san.” She paused and stared into his eyes. “I’m also scared for you.”

His eyes widened slowly. “Hinamori…”

“But I won’t let that stop me from wanting to protect everyone—to protect you.” She squeezed his shoulder. “That’s why I became a shinigami, right?”

Momo could sense his inner storm abating and smiled in relief. “So—trust me, okay? Like I trust you to stay safe.”

He sighed deeply and stared back at her. “Okay—I will try.”

She chuckled quietly. “That’s all I ask.”

Momo let her hand fall in the space between them. “Now let’s go to sleep. We still have to finish training tomorrow. I can’t send you back not knowing how to do one combination spell.”

“This will definitely be an experience I will never forget,” he said softly.

She smiled, her eyes already closing shut. “Good night, Hitsugaya-kun.”

Sometime during the night, Momo felt her hand being pulled, and held tight. That even if they drifted in dreams under the stars, she was grounded and safe, held tight to home.

---

Authour's Note: Again, this happens late at night because I am a sucker for late night conversations. I had a lot of fun trying to write Momo's teaching methods for the kido (as if I know anything lol) I also just love that something doesn't go splendidly well for Toushiro (though I wish there were more people to witness it hahahaha)

Until next time everyone :)

[just-some-random-blogger]

Yeti

Cregan Stark x Martell!Reader

Summary: Cregan takes you hunting with him and, you get caught up in a snowstorm. Needless to say, the cold is a formidable adversary to your Dornish self.

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: fem!reader, wife!reader, mentions/depictions of violence/gore/horror, smut (pwp tbh, semi-public sex, breeding kink, cunninglingus, vaginal penetration, dirty talk, praise kink), cregan 'don't fuckin scare my wife' stark, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: haha head. no thoughts. only wolf hubbie. and ok just roll with the folklore i added just just Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx

"WHAT?" I quip, breath condensing with the cold air.

The men around me let out deep, hearty chuckles upon hearing my concerned exclamation. Cregan chuckles under his breath and shakes his head. The fire in the middle of our group crackles.

"Aye, I saw it with my own two eyes," the oldest of the men in the hunting party says, "twas the biggest beast I'd ever seen." He scratches his white beard. A shiver runs down my spine. It wasn't just because of the wind.

"Lord Stark," a voice calls from behind, "we've finished setting up the tent."

Cregan turns to the approaching men and nods, "very good. Thank you."

"When mi cousin went missing," I turn to the man by my right as he speaks, "mi aunt saw a seer to ask if they could get 'is body back if 'e was dead," he says, "and, by the gods, instead, that night, there was a loud screech and claw marks on the trees. In the end, they erected a stone for mi cousin without 'is body."

I shudder and wrap myself tighter into my coat.

"D'ya know the story about the headless, lady?"

My expression twists, along with my insides. I shake my head.

"Well," the man continues, "long story short, an entire heard of sheep slowly started losing their heads and there were large footprints that trailed off the farm every time it happened."

I clench my jaw, "... how horrible."

"Aye. Yetis feed messily. They say that if you find sheep organs in the snow, you ought to run cause a Yeti left that there."

Cregan rolls his eyes but then catches the way my face continues to contort.

"Didn't all of the sheep on that farm have their guts gushing out of their necks?"

"I think it also happened to the cows-"

"That's enough," Cregan shakes his head, leaning on his knees, "I will not hear another word of the kills of snow figments while we're out in the snow."

"But it's not a figment."

"Milord, you know that even your father had an encounter with the Yeti-"

"The Yeti kill mi dog-"

"Enough, I said!" Cregan blurts louder than the rest. He stands from his spot, and in turn, his cloak, which he had wrapped around me, is pulled off my body. He stills, having forgotten he'd done that, and looks down at me, reaching hand, "in the tent with you."

I do not take his hand. I instead grip my furs tighter as I slowly stand. He does not fault me for it, though he does let out a grunt.

The men share another laugh. They watch as I struggle to move from my spot, as I was practically twice my size with all of the layers I had on. Cregan had even given me his outer coat, leaving him one layer less, yet still, he was unfazed where I was practically rigid with frost.

"Poor Dornish cub," one of the men mutter.

Cregan presses his lips together and adjusts the woolen hat on me. He wipes the snowflakes off my lashes before placing a hand on the brown bear fur on my back, "waddle quicker then."

I do not snark back at his remark.

One crunch in the snow after the other, my boots finally take me to the tiny, makeshift tent.

Cregan reaches out to me again, making me look back at him with wide, inquisitive eyes. When I do nothing but stare, he mutters, "the coat, love."

I furrow my brows at him like he called bloody murder, "but I'm cold!"

Cregan blinks then shakes his head, "I'm only going to dust the snow off."

I shake my head and shudder, breath condensing in the air.

He purses his lips and grabs me not unlike a rag doll. I squeak and just let it happen. He brushes the snow off me, muttering something under his breath as he did, then guides me into the tent.

When he kneels down by the makeshift bed on the ground, he and takes off his cloak, "will you be sleeping with the whole wardrobe on you?"

I plop down next to him gracelessly and pant, "if you wish for me to survive through the night."

He draws out a deep breath. It looks as though smoke left his lungs. Cregan makes a pillow out of his cloak and motions to it.

I gratefully lie down, although with all the layers on me, the cloak-pillow was a bit too low. Still, I fluff it up and it suffices well enough.

"Will your men be alright outside?" I mutter as I gaze upon the blanket and fur tent they built.

He grunts as he stands, "there've been worse winters, sunshine." He then begins to walk off.

"Wait," I knit my brows, "where are you going?!"

Cregan turns back and places his hands on his hips, "I wouldn't want to intrude on you and your fur. There's barely enough room for the two of you."

"Cregan."

"Oh, Hush, hush," he waves his gloved hand and moves to close the tent's opening, "I'm keeping watch so my bear cub doesn't get eaten by a Yeti."

"That's not funny."

I hear the sound of his boots stomping away.

It was bad enough that I was shivering intermittently in my sleep, thus why I kept waking up, but then I had an awful nightmare about the gargantuan, white-furred snow monster. Now all I could do was pray to R'hllor that I remain strong enough to get through this storm.

I further solidify when I hear a deep cry from a distance.

... no... not a Yeti. That's simply my mind playing tricks on me.

And yet my heavy eyes are now wide open.

I roll on my back and sit down as I listen to the wisp of the storm, anticipating another shriek.

I sniffle and shudder as dread bubbles in my belly.

"I am not waiting for the Yeti to creep in my tent, gods no," I mutter to myself as I crawl out of my tent on all fours.

As I emerge out of the warm cocoon, I yelp when I look up and find myself faced with a snow covered man laid back on a tree truck. He looked as though he was dead. I let out louder yelp when I realize the man was Cregan.

I run to him, no longer caring that cold was seeping through my fur and quickly brush the snow off him. Because of this, Cregan groans and finds consciousness.

"W-"

"ARE YOU ALRIGHT?" I rub Cregan's face with my hands.

He scowls at me, "is it morning?"

"W-what?"

He groans as he sits up, "dammit, girl, I was sleeping."

"WELL HOW COULD I HAVE KNOWN THAT!" I quip, "you look like you were about to make friends with the Stranger."

Cregan grabs my arms as his face slowly contorts, "I'll have you know I am the vision of health, bride."

I let out a sound as he leans in and wraps his arms around me, bringing his face into my neck. The feel of his cold nose against my skin makes me gasp. He mumbles, "so warm."

"Cregan," I brush the building snow on him, "let's go into the tent."

And so we did. Or at least as much as the Stark lord could fit inside.

Once we were situated in the tent, I laid next to Cregan, who kept moving because of his legs that were sticking out. After a while, he began shifting me as well. He pulls me into his chest and claws my coat off, "away with these furs, dammit."

"Cregan, I'm cold."

My words and my attempts to keep myself warm are futile as my hulking husband rips the source of his ire off me, "I can warm you better."

"Cregan, please," I grab his hands when he tries to undo more of my clothes, "it's too cold for this."

I am wholly defenseless when he shifts on his knees and shoves me on my back. He situates himself between my legs and pulls his gloves off, "I'll leave you sweating."

I whimper when I feel cold begin to seep through as he pushes my skirts up, "Cregan-"

"Shh, shh, shh," he digs his finger into my hips, " 'm just going to warm my face. You felt how cold I was."

With a rip, my pants and smallclothes were down. The yelp that leaves me is repeated when I feel Cregan's frosty lips on me.

Cregan sinks down and throws my legs over his shoulders. At this point, his bottom half was sticking outside the tent. That, added to the sounds I was making through my glove-muffled mouth, made for the most obviously obscene act you would ever witness in the woods amidst a storm.

"Come now, pretty girl," he mutters between kisses, "no one will hear you through the wind."

I whimper when he swirls his tongue around my nub.

"And even if they do, they'll know to blame it on the Yeti."

True enough, I begin to grow warmer and warmer, and louder and louder.

"Mmm, fuck, Cregan," I reach down from him and dig my fingers into his hair, "I feel warmer now. So warm."

He hums against me, eliciting a moan from my lips. He sighs hotly on my core then nips at my thigh, "so sweet and soft, and all for me."

I whimper and arch against him as he continues to lap at my increasing wetness. I bite down on my lips as the sound of his feasting fills my ears.

"Cregan," I sigh as I pull on his roots, "need more."

He barely lifts his head and whispers against me, "not warm enough?" His one brow quirks.

"Need you inside me," I mutter, seeing my breath fog up in front of my face.

Cregan chuckles then sigh, "see, you woke me up," he retorts, rubbing his cheek against my thigh, "I'm going to need you to beg for forgiveness first."

I grunt when he sinks back down on me, "please, husband. Forgive me. I'm begging you. I need you."

Cregan chuckles louder, "how wanton, not even putting up a fight--"

"Please," I pull his hair again, "please."

He shakes his head, so very clearly meaning to rub me with his nose, "I'm enjoying this enough already."

"My love, please. I want you in me," I pant."

With that, he sinks down darts his tongue into my folds, making me squeal. He continues at it then makes me yelp when he grazes my flesh. He croons, "like that, pretty girl?"

I whine helplessly as he continues. I can practically feel his grin against me. I scrape his scalp with my fingers, "Cregan."

He chuckles and relents, lifting his head, "oh, what now?"

"I need your cock in my cunt."

He laughs then clicks his tongue, "my, my, Lady Stark. How uncouth. Is how they raise the ladies in Sunspear?"

I let out a whimper when the cold bites my exposed flesh after Cregan pulls away. He presses his fingers into my thighs, "what would you give me if I fucked you, wife?"

I answer exactly as I know he wants, "an heir."

He huffs heavily through his nose and gets on his knees, "just one?" He brings both my legs into one arm as his other works on undoing his trousers.

"As many as you want, my lord."

He hums and eventually frees himself. I sound leaves me when I feel how cold but hard he is, "good girl."

Our groans mix as he sinks into me and pushes my knees into my chest. I feel warm slick on him as he rubs into my chilled cheek. "Fuck. You're so cold," he mutters. He proceeds to pepper kisses all over my face, "let me take care of you."

I reach for his face and begin to grunt when he bucks into me. If it weren't for all of the clothes still on my back, I'd surely have my skin gashed by the end of this.

"Fucking gods," he growls against my temple, "so tight and hot."

He pushes his hands behind my knees and picks up the pace.

I throw my head back and helplessly whine as he slaps into me. He pushes down on me and pins me in place. He pants against my ear, "this warm enough for you?"

"Mmm, gods, yes-"

"Gonna fill you up. Burn my come into you. Make you carry my pups," he licks my skin then nips at me, "make you heavy with my seed. Put so many pretty babes into my pretty bride."

My fingers dig into his hair as his mouth trails down my neck. He asks, "you want that don't you?"

"Yes, wolf."

He gruffs and snaps his hips rough, "good. Good."

I grow warmer as he moves quicker. Soon enough both our bodies are warm to the touch. I peck his cheek and bask in the feel of him. At a point, his movements become erratic and aggressive.

"My pretty cunt. Mine, mine mine."

"Cregan-"

"Yes, darling. I'm here," he sighs, "fucking my pups into your soft belly and warming you up. Feels better than all those fucking pelts right? Warmer. Warmer. Warmer. So fucking warm."

I squeal as I feel myself get pushed on the edge.

"Come on, love, give it up to me."

I whine erratically.

"Come on, pretty girl. Milk my cock and take my cum. Fuck, just like that. Come on. Don't be difficult. Come on, my little-- oh, that's it."

Cregan's movements do not relent as I come undone and spasm beneath him. The knot inside me breaks into a thousand pieces and I'm sure if there was a Yeti out there, they'd be running the other way after hearing me.

A few moments later, he, himself, twitches and fucks all of the smug comments he meant to say out of his system.

His movements grow increasingly languid until he comes to a stop.

He breathes against my neck and finally releases his clutch on my legs. He adjusts his hold on my thighs and makes a cushion out of me, not that I mind. In fact as I catch my breath and wrap my legs around him, I warn in between breaths, "don't you dare pull away, Stark."

He presses his lips on the top of my head, "never, Stark."

[ryuzakemo128]

Hannibal Prompts

Other Stuff I have written: Link

Masterlist: Link

Fantasy AU

Marianna is a royal family member who has to choose someone to marry. they already have two certain people in mind.

As Marianna wrestles with her feelings, a magical event takes place in the kingdom—an ancient celestial event known as the "Moon's Embrace." It occurs once every century when the full moon shines its brightest, and its magical light illuminates the path of those who are meant to be together. During this enchanted night, Marianna seeks solace in the kingdom's gardens, where she can feel closer to the moon's divine power.

Hannibal is a king along with Will, Marianna is a princess from a neighboring kingdom. The two kingdoms have had a long history of tension and conflict, but as a way to secure peace and forge an alliance, Marianna's father proposes a marriage between her and one of the two kings. Which then causes an issue when both kings fall for her at the same time.

Dialogue

"Yes, I have been flirting with you both for the past two years. thank you for noticing."

"It doesn't always have to be you, you know? Your shoulders aren't the only ones that can bear the weight of the world."

"Walk with me?"

"I feel safe with you."

"It's just a scratch, don't worry."

"Here, take this. You'll catch a cold."

"You're not dating anyone, are you?"

"He knows more than what he's telling us. Much more."

"I wish you'd take better care of yourself."

"You're about as intimidating as a butterfly."

"You look better in my clothes than I do."

"Be patient with him. He's trying."

"Why were they coming after you?"

"Stop trying to figure everything out. Just focus on now."

"You must be new around here."

"What if I never see you again?"

"You don't know when to give up, do you?"

"You could've just used the door."

"I don't know. Shut up. I'm not blushing."

"I guess it runs in the family, huh?"

Fluff

Power outage during a snowstorm so Marianna, Hannibal and Will must cuddle for warmth.

Either Marianna, Hannibal or Will wake up cold and forcing their partners to join them in their bed for warmth.

It’s Wills birthday, and his partners all pooled together money to get one really big present.

Marianna, Hannibal and Will trying to find and wear matching clothes (for a dance, Halloween, etc.).

Marianna, Hannibal and Will sharing a bed for the first time and trying to figure out who should sleep where.

Marianna, Hannibal and Will celebrating their first Christmas together.

Marianna, Hannibal and Will going clothes shopping together and everyone lets all their partners pick out at least one article of clothing for them to wear.

Marianna, Hannibal and Will being extremely busy people with different schedules, so every time their free time manages to line up, they plan a million things they want to do to make the most of it.

Marianna, Hannibal and Will living together for the first time and learning all of each other's weird habits and stuff.

[samplingmoonsters]

Imagine Dream bring the mega simp he is and Techno just bring completely oblivious

Then just imagine, they are just hanging out together, it's winter so they have scarfs and thick jackets. Dream's face is just blushing, Techno realizes and goes "hey are you alright, are you sick?" And Dream internally is having a gay panic and hides his face in his scarf as he just stammers out "o-oh yeah I'm fine", Techno doesn't believe him so he grabs his face to get a better look and Dream is just dying

Winter in the Antarctic was harsh and unforgiving. Besides the occasional snowstorms wrecking chaos over the icy lands, the temperature also dropped to an almost unbearable level. At least in the eyes of Dream, who despite his thick winter coat and scarf still feels the ruthless cold on his skin. Yet another shudder travels down his back while he rubs his gloveless hands together, trying to warm them up without success. Not for the first time, since stepping out of Technoblade’s warm hoot, he regrets not wearing gloves. He should have really thought ahead before following the hybrid outside to spend more time with him, only to end up watching the man chop firewood while he stood behind freezing his ass off.

When Technoblade said ‘he had something important to do outside’ Dream thought he meant taking care of his million dogs or maybe visiting Philza or something, not chopping wood!

Not that the sight in front of him isn’t appealing… To be honest, Technoblade looks rather hot with his ax in hand and sweat dripping down his face. The way the man pulls the weapon down, the muscles in his arms constricting with the movement and red eyes sparkling in the early morning light is one of the hottest sights Dream has the honour and pleasure to witness. Once again, Dream’s eyes wander up Technmoblade’s shoulders, forest green eyes watch the broad shoulders move under the thin white shirt, analyzing every movement like a hawk hunting their prey. While it’s kind of strange to see Technoblade so unbothered by the cold, Dream is thankful to finally have an opportunity to watch Technoblade’s impressive muscles in action without looking like a creep. It’s not like he could stare at the man while they’re dueling, he would just end up with a sword in his chest… or worse.

It’s not often that the man doesn’t wear his iconic red cloak, so Dream takes the rare opportunity to remember every detail of the usually hidden parts of Technoblade’s beautiful body.

He is so distracted by Technoblade’s broad shoulders that he doesn’t even realize when said man stops moving. An awkward cough catches his attention and without thinking Dream looks up, eyes finding blood red ones. He stares into the red pools like a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar. Guilt and embarrassment overtaking his body from being caught checking out his rival like a slice of steak.

For several seconds no one says anything while the rivals stare at each other. Their warm breath evaporates in the cold air, it’s a stark contrast to the ever-building tension slowly wrapping around them like a thick blanket.

Dream’s sure that his face must resemble a tomato at this point. Not able to bear one more second of the awkward staring contest, Dream looks away, green dots now staring at Techno’s chest instead of his face. “…what?” Dream breathes out, his voice muffled from the scarf wrapped around him.

Instead of answering, Techno tilts his head to the side, red eyes squinting at him, “Hey, be real with me for a moment,” Techno begins, another long breath escaping icy lips, “are you...sick or something?”

Dream’s brain short circuit, every one of his synapses snapping from the pure panic overtaking his body. His thoughts are an ongoing stream of omgomgomgomgomg--- while he slowly falls into the early stages of a panic attack. He can feel his blush intensify, if that is even possible, freckles standing out against the bright red cheeks like stars in a midnight sky. For the first time since stepping outside, Dream feels warm, body almost catching on fire from the pure embarrassment. The break from the bitter cold would be a relieving sensation in any other situation. How could he possibly explain to Technoblade that he isn’t actually sick but simply flushed from watching the hybrid chop wood without sounding like a total creep and freak!?

Simply Impossible!

Taking Dream’s silence has a bad sight, Techno continues, a worried frown overtaking his usually stoic expression, “Your face is all red.” he waves a hand over his own face, “Dream,” Techno sounds so disappointed Dream could cry, “if you are sick you shouldn’t have followed me outside.”

Hiding his face into his scarf from sheer embarrassment, he shakes his head, “I’m- uhm- I-I’m not sick…” he mumbles, unsure if the hybrid could even understand him with how he is burying his face into the soft fabric.

Dream would really appreciate a sudden zombie attack right now. Anything to distract the pigman.

Not satisfied with the blond’s unsure answer, Techno steps forward, large, warm hands curling around Dream’s face. The blond let out a surprised breath at the unexpected touch, eyes widening when his face is lifted out of the soft fabric. No way to escape the strong hold on his cheeks, Dream has no other choice but to meet blood-red eyes once more. He feels like a small bunny under the Blood God’s wandering gaze.

Like a sacrifice ready to meet their demise.

Technoblade eyes pierce into him, sharp like a sword and just as dangerous. Dream shudders under the intense gaze and he couldn’t help but lean into the large hands cradling his face, oh so carefully. Rough hands that usually only know cruelty and the lust for blood, are caressing his face like he’s something precious, something to be loved. And Dream falls under the soft touch like a man meeting the sharp end of a sword in a sweet death. A shaky breath escapes frozen pink lips and Dream closes his eyes, at last surrendering to the man he loved.

Silence fell over them.

Dream wouldn’t mind staying like this forever. Feeling Technoblade’s loving touch for all eternity.

Of course nothing lasts forever and the serene silence is broken by the hybrid once more, “Hmm… you’re certainly burning up and your face is all red too.”

All of the sudden the warm hands disappear and Dream has to bite his lip to swallow down the whine that wants to escape his throat. Green eyes fly open and look up at the piglin, “Wait--- what?” Dream has totally forgotten about Technoblade’s allegation, too lost in their sweet moment to remember anything that happened shortly before Technoblade’s hands found his face.

“Memory problems too?” Techno half-teases, a grin forming around pearly-white tusks, “Now you really need to lie down. Let’s better go inside before your condition worsens.” Techno turns around to lift up his ax which lays forgotten in the snow next to the chopped firewood. He turns back around and takes Dream’s wrist with his free hand, slowly steering the other male towards the small house a few feet away.

Still somewhat lost from the sudden turn of events, Dream lets himself be dragged through the snow without complaint, the ice crystals crunching under their feet with each step. Green eyes fall to the large hand curled around his wrist, and he hopes Techno can’t feel the way his pulse is racing under his skin.

Feeling brave, he pushes his hand down far enough to curl their fingers together. Techno reciprocates the simple touch, a low hum escaping his lips as he tightens his hold around Dream’s hand.

Feeling pleasantly warm in the freezing cold, Dream buries his face into his green scarf and smiles softly, heart soaring in his chest like the sun slowly rising in the distance.

Spring is coming.

(I write this at 2am after coming back from a night out with my friends! I hope you like it anon! <3 Yes I was a little tipsy while writing this.)

[fullmetalscullyy]

For the sharing a bed ask bc I can't remember for the life of me if I've sent one to you yet 🙈 'they took turns sharing it while the other was on watch' or however exactly that one was worded ❤️❤️

aaa tysm for the prompt! i loved it and i hope you enjoy! continuing with the no plot just vibes agenda~

send me a prompt

rated: g | words: 3679 | tags: royai, there was only one bed, shelter from the storm, snowstorm, tending to wounds, comfort, fluff

read on ao3

Exhaustion followed both occupants of the crumbling bothy like a shadow. It clung to them, slowing their movements, as if it was physically attached to their ankles like two weights. Booted feet were dragged across the polished, undulating stones underfoot, worn down after years of use, and finally came to stop in the centre of the main room.

Years of use didn’t warrant years of upkeep apparently, Riza thought, as she did a sweep of the building. It was not in the best condition however it was still standing, and it was shelter from the storm outside. That was all Riza was currently concerned with.

There were only two rooms, plus a bathroom with a functioning sink and toilet – surprisingly enough. The pipes grunted and groaned, screaming in protest at being used, but it worked and was clean. A worn plaque above the sink indicated the water was drinkable as well, which was the best news she’d heard all day. A small blessing in this wretched situation they’d found themselves in.

To counteract that thought, at that exact moment, a howling gust of wind rattled the door thoroughly and whistled through the cracked class of the windows to its left and right. The Colonel whipped around to stare, partly in fright and partly because he was on edge. They both were. The sudden scream that sounded as the wind tried to force its way inside through the glass made Riza jump as well.

They shared a look and the Colonel’s lips pressed into a thin line.

“So much for the famed northern hospitality,” he muttered. His words held a bite to them, however Riza was unsure whether it was directed at the situation itself or at anyone in particular.

It wasn’t anyone’s fault they’d found themselves in this situation, however it was not ideal, nor was it pleasant. The first point on their ‘bad things that have happened today’ list (at this point, they were up to around number six) was a snowstorm had rendered their transport from the station in North City to the town they were supposed to be visiting useless. The truck owner boasted it was an all-terrain, all-weather vehicle, that he was handpicked by the military for transport because of his “beauty’s” prowess. He quickly stopped bragging though and started muttering angrily at his prized possession, kicking the tyre in fury as it sat pitifully in a snowy ditch, unable to escape the confines of it. It was safe to say his “beauty” fell short of the mark for the two soldiers. No amount of pushing from the three of them would shift it. However, they had deadlines to meet, so were forced to say their goodbyes and go ahead on foot.

There was no way they’d make it in time but at least they could honestly say they had tried when questioned.

It was by a stroke of luck they’d stumbled upon a walker’s bothy. Night was creeping in quickly, especially with the ongoing snowstorm. The world was turning greyer by the second and when Riza spotted it, she made a beeline straight for the shelter. The wind was too loud to talk over, but the Colonel saw her beckoning gesture and nodded, following behind her without question, already trusting her judgement and thought process.

The main room housed a single wooden bedframe with no mattress. There was another spot where another bed frame should be, but only half it remained. It had been broken in half. Whether that had been from an accident, an act of vandalism, or due to the passage of time, Riza wasn’t sure. Not that it would be of any use to them split in half, but simple curiosity had the Colonel searching the rest of the small building for the other half. There was a large stone fireplace that was bereft of any wood, they noticed with dismay, however after venturing through to the second room on the left, there was a massive pile of it within. It was a supply for the winter months for anyone who needed it, so the piece of paper tacked to an old corkboard on the wall said. There were two chairs placed around the fire and some cast iron cooking utensils stacked in a neat pile upon the hearth, lifting their spirits slightly. They had rations from the truck driver that would not require their use, but the sight of them was still a positive.

“I think we’ll be safe enough to sleep here tonight,” she announced, ignoring the Colonel’s petulant comment.

“Lieutenant,” he called quietly to her, catching her attention. When she turned her head, he gestured to one of the chairs. “You should rest.” He glanced down at her feet, and Riza knew exactly what he was thinking.

She’d stumbled and twisted her ankle while they walked. The pain had eased completely the more she’d walked, so Riza assumed it would be fine. Now they’d stopped, it was throbbing in time with her pulse. It appeared to be worse than she’d thought.

Just what they needed.

She sighed and mentally added that as number seven to their list.

Sitting on one of the chairs, Riza sighed quietly in relief as it lessened the pressure on her injured joint. The Colonel followed suit and he too sounded extremely relieved to finally sit down.

“What a day,” he muttered, tilting his head back and closing his eyes.

Riza hummed in agreement, causing him to reopen his eyes and glance tiredly over at her. She shifted in place, feeling a shiver travel down her spine.

Without a word, the Colonel stood and ventured into the other room. He came back with arms full of firewood and started the process of arranging them within the fireplace. After a single snap the fire roared to life, filling the room with a soft orange glow and warmth. A few minutes later the invading bite of the winter chill was beginning to alleviate and Riza could feel her muscles relaxing.

“Do you think there will be anything outside waiting for us?”

His question was so sudden as he stared into the fire that it took Riza a moment to process it.

“Pardon?”

The Colonel blinked and tore his eyes away from the dancing flames. He repeated his question as he turned to look at her, expression serious.

“Like what?”

“What about bears?” He looked genuinely concerned.

Riza blinked at him. “Probably. I think so, yes.” She faintly recalled hearing stories about the size and might of the bears in the north but elected not to bring it up. She didn’t think that would have been beneficial or productive in that moment, especially not after recognising a faint glint of fear that was discernible in the Colonel’s eyes.

“Do you think we should be concerned?”

Riza glanced over her shoulder at the door as it rattled on its hinges. “I don’t think so. We’ll be safe in here.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Do you know any bears that can open doors?” Both her brows lifted as she regarded him.

“I know a bear could open that door,” he scoffed, jerking his head towards it. “It’s hardly a strong line of defence.”

That was true. One more gust of wind might snap it off one of the hinges. The top one rattled playfully to emphasise his point.

“I think we’ll be okay, sir,” Riza replied smoothly, trying to keep her amusement out of her tone.

The Colonel scowled at her anyway. Apparently she hadn’t been entirely successful.

Riza chuckled upon seeing his expression. “City boy,” she muttered to herself, her tone light and playful.

“I would say it was a legitimate concern,” he replied haughtily.

“You also thought there were bears in the woods outside my father’s house.”

“I think my point still stands.”

“Bears do not exist in every wooded area and forest, Roy.” She rolled her eyes at him in amused exasperation, momentarily forgetting herself.

It was so easy talking to him like this. The two of them were alone together and stuck in a predicament that neither could have ever predicted or conjured up, yet here they were. It was surreal, but it was nice. Despite everything that had happened today she was still relatively happy. She was grateful to be with him. Ideally, she’d have neither of them stranded in a snowstorm, however she was glad he was here. If there was anyone she’d want to be stranded with, it would be him.

After she’d realised her minor slip up, Riza paused and glanced over at him, noting his soft expression and smile. It was so genuine and happy that she didn’t cringe or apologise. She didn’t feel the need to.

“We sound like we did when we were children,” he replied.

Riza felt her own nostalgic smile spread across her face. “We do.”

“I’ll take first watch,” he offered.

Riza opened her mouth to protest but he’d already shoved a threadbare blanket he’d found towards her. Riza didn’t particularly want to use it – she had no way of knowing how clean it was – however the building was not heated in the slightest, aside from the fire. It was built for hikers who were well prepared with sleeping bags, which they were not. For survival, Riza had to accept any kind of warmth she could get.

“You need to rest that ankle,” he added.

She nodded and took the blanket from him. Riza settled herself on the hard, wooden bedframe so she was facing into the room. It was warmer than facing the cold stone of the wall beside the bed.

“Colonel?”

He glanced over at her expectantly.

“Watch out for those bears.”

* * * * * * * *

The wind had died down throughout the night at least. Roy had been partly joking when he brought up the bears that may be lurking outside for them, however now that he’d put the idea inside his own head, he couldn’t help but take an extra glance every now and then out the window.

Just in case.

It was worth bringing it up to hear the Lieutenant’s laugh. To hear her accidentally call him by his first name. It had been so worth it.

To whittle away the time his mind tried its best to summon a plan of attack against any bear that did appear, going over how he would react and how he would fend one off, but Roy had come to only one conclusion after about half an hour of plotting. It was folly. There was absolutely no way he’d be able to take on a bear. His eyes narrowed at the rickety old door and took solace in the fact the doorway looked too small for a bear to fit through. They were safe from them so long as they stayed inside, and that was good enough for him.

Now the bear appearance dilemma, likely or not, had been put to bed, Roy’s thoughts turned towards the Lieutenant. He glanced down at her ankle as she lay sound asleep, remembering how she’d stumbled and fallen in a snowdrift. Insisting she was fine, they’d pressed on. They didn’t have much choice in the matter anyway, but he was still concerned. He had a strong inkling she was suffering for it as they travelled. A sprained ankle under normal conditions would ease with rest, but that was not a luxury they’d been afforded as they traversed the snowy landscape to safety. Snowdrifts up to their knees were common and Roy had felt dead on his feet when they finally came to a stop inside this shelter.

That was one blessing of the day, at least. He’d simply laughed at their luck, shaking his head, now they were safe beneath shelter, dry, and out of the storm.

But if he’d felt tired down to his bones, then he couldn’t imagine how the Lieutenant must have felt upon their arrival.

Steadying his resolve, Roy determined there was no imminent danger. No bears coming through the night to get them. Now the storm had eased, looking through the shards of the window, Roy could see the gorgeous landscape splayed before him, illuminated by the moonlight, and enhanced by the heavy snow. It looked a lot more inviting than it had a few hours ago.

He wouldn’t, but he was tempted to wake up the Lieutenant to show her how beautiful it looked.

Roy smiled to himself, the thought dredging up an old memory from their past. He faintly recalled doing something similar when he’d experienced his first winter at the Hawkeye house. He’d ran to her room without a thought, excited and eager to show her how the dark forest outside had transformed into a silvery white and green wonderland.

It had been something he’d been desperate to share with her.

“Colonel?”

A tired voice called to him, and Roy immediately lost his interest in the world outside. He turned, seeing the Lieutenant blink tiredly at him.

“Lieutenant,” he greeted, an air of concern about him. He hadn’t expected her to wake so soon, and if she did, he knew she’d want to take over watch duties.

She shot him a small smile, placating his nerves somewhat. Pushing herself up into a seated position, the Lieutenant stretched her arms over her head.

“How’s the ankle?”

She grimaced, but only slightly. “Better now that I’ve taken my weight off it.”

That didn’t answer his question entirely. “Is there any pain?”

She was silent as she looked down at her legs. “It does throb every now and again. That’s what woke me up.”

Roy nodded, dismayed to hear she was in pain. If he could take it away, he would, but they didn’t have painkillers in their first aid kits. The only thing that would help was a support, which the Lieutenant had already put on after gently easing her boot off. She didn’t react to the angry red hue of her skin, but Roy felt his stomach tense. It hadn’t looked good. The compression support had been slipped on slowly, but Roy saw the way her eye twitched twice and how her jaw clenched while obviously trying to conceal any kind of pain.

“Why don’t you try and get a few hours sleep,” the Lieutenant offered. “I think I’ll be up for a while now.” She swung her legs around and to the floor, visibly wincing when her sore ankle contacted the floor. Another appeared when she tried to stand, but Roy quickly scrambled towards her.

“Please, stay seated,” he insisted. “You shouldn’t be walking on that ankle.”

The Lieutenant shot him a strained smile. “That doesn’t bode well for us for tomorrow,” she quipped.

Roy opened his mouth to reply, but she was right. Still, hewas right. She shouldn’t be walking on that ankle.

“Regardless,” he admonished, placing his hands on her shoulders as a gentle restraint to keep her in place. “All the more reason to remain seated and keep resting it then, right?” Triumph flashed through him, and he smirked when the Lieutenant’s lips pursed, because she knew he was right.

“You can’t sleep on the floor, though,” she warned.

His shoulders fell in defeat, glancing down at the bed. His mind rejoiced with the idea that sprung into it, however it was so far out the realm of what was appropriate that it was completely out of the question.

Roy retracted his hands as the Lieutenant placed both hands by her sides and effortlessly slid herself backwards, so her back came to rest upon the stone wall behind her. She made herself comfortable and looked at him expectantly, patting the space beside her to indicate he should join her and sit.

Even if it wasn’t appropriate to share a bed with his Lieutenant, Roy only needed to take one look around them both and remember where they were. This day was already bizarre enough. What was one more occurrence to add to that list?

He wouldn’t particularly class it as sharing a bed with her either. They would both be sitting upright, looking out at the room, with considerable distance in place between them.

“We can take turns with the blanket,” she smirked as she handed it over.

Roy snorted lightly and gratefully received her offering. The room was warm enough with the fire but the stone behind his back still stubbornly clung to the icy temperatures from outside, refusing to accept the warmth they’d provided the room. Wrapping it around his shoulders, Roy settled back in place and made himself comfortable.

He woke with a start a few hours later. His head jerked upright and swung left and right, unseeing as he still tried to shake the vision from his dreams.

“Colonel? Colonel!”

He paused for a second, recognising the voice. It was from someone he thought he’d lost in his dream.

“Roy,” the Lieutenant called to him.

It was enough to surprise him, that it brought him back to the present. Glancing to his right, he saw his Lieutenant still seated next to him, eyes wide and concerned.

“Are you okay?” Her eyes were searching his, moving back and forth frantically as she scanned his face with worry.

“Yes,” he breathed, trying to get a hold of his racing heart to slow it down. He was all right. She was all right. They were safe. He gulped down air, trying to get enough into his lungs and take away the fear that had both restricted them and wrapped tightly around his heart. “Just… A bad dream.”

The Lieutenant nodded in understanding and patted his forearm. That was when Roy realised she didn’t remove it, and that it had been there the entire time.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Roy shook his head. “It’s okay,” he breathed. “Thank you, though,” he quickly added. “It was just… the usual,” he offered. The usual nowadays was him losing someone dear to him. The Promised Day had not been kind on his mind. To this day he still suffered, and he didn’t particularly want to relive it after it was so fresh. His reply was code enough that the Lieutenant knew exactly what he was referring to. They’d already been open about what their ‘usual’ nightmares consisted of nowadays.

As suspected, realisation dawned upon her features, and she nodded in sympathy.

“I… I need some time before I can sleep again,” he admitted. There was no shame in his voice though, not with her. Never with her. They were both very well acquainted with the reasons the other struggled to sleep. “You should try for a while.”

“Okay,” she acquiesced. She gave his forearm a squeeze and again, she didn’t remove it. “Wake me if you need anything, all right?” She waited for him to verbally agree with her. Only once he did, did the Lieutenant’s eyes close.

Watching her do so caused Roy’s brow to furrow slightly in confusion.

She must have moved closer to him as he slept, because where there had been about two feet of distance between them before, there was now mere centimetres. Just enough distance for the Lieutenant’s head to loll and fall against his shoulder comfortably as she slept.

He’d been startled awake, so Roy hadn’t realised he’d initiated it. In sleep, his head had bowed and rolled to the side, seeking out her presence. After shifting closer, the Lieutenant had eased him from his uncomfortable position and lifted his head to lie upon her shoulder.

Now recovered from the turmoil of his dream, Roy smiled down at her and relished in the comfort her presence brought him. The weight of her head against him eased his mind and slowed his racing pulse. He could breathe easier with her lying against him. A peace washed over his body, relaxing his taught muscles, and soothing his very soul.

Despite their predicament, he was glad she was here with him.

The grip she had on his forearm loosened, so Roy snaked his hand over to it, hooking their fingers together and holding on tightly. The Lieutenant stirred next to him, disturbed from sleep.

“Sorry,” he whispered, “it’s okay. It’s just me.” He gave her hand a quick squeeze.

There was a brief pause with no reply, then the Lieutenant’s grip on him tightened and remained.

“Okay,” she exhaled peacefully. She moved next to him, shuffling closer, which Roy was more than happy to indulge in.

As she was lulled back to sleep, her grip on his hand slackened but Roy never let her go. He anchored himself to her.

They’d get through this and get home. Not that she’d allow it of course, but Roy would carry her through the snow with that ankle if need be to ensure their safety. It had been the day from hell professionally, however ending it with the two of them curled together on that uncomfortable bed, gripping onto one another, was not bad in the slightest. Roy thought that was the closest to heaven he was ever going to get.

* * * * * * * *

Their luck must have finally been turning for the better, as that morning a group of hikers entered the bothy loudly, laughing and joking with one another, while Roy helped the Lieutenant strap up her ankle. They were offered food and directions to the nearest town, which was only two miles away. The group set off with them, insistent on offering their help and support, and even assisted the Lieutenant with some painkillers as well.

After the day of travel they’d had before, it brightened up both soldier’s moods somewhat as they set off again through the snowy northern landscape with their new company.

Thankfully, they didn’t come across any bears.

They made it to the town in one peace and called North City Headquarters for assistance. And also requested back up for that assistance.

Just in case.

[btsmosphere]

Snowstorm | MYG

~summary:

Strange things happen in the woods when you return home for Christmas. And why does your mum insist you stay away from Min Yoongi?

Yoongi x female reader

~word count: 6k

~magic au, jack frost au, childhood friend au, angst, fluff

Rating: pg

Warnings: overbearing parent, rumours and gossip, swearing, storms and bad weather

~a/n: this is a repost, I put this up this morning but for some reaason it hasn’t shown up in the tags so I am trying again. ~original a/n: got this one out just in time... this is my fic for November keyword ‘magic’ for @thebtswritersclub​!! This started from the bingo square ‘jack frost’, one I wasn’t sure whether to write, but it was perfect for a magic au, so I hope you enjoy it! Keep a lookout for more festive fics from me over December,, I’ve just realised quite how many fics I have to find time to write among my end of term essays yAy

They’re cutting the trees down in the forest.

It’s not as young as it once was, but neither are you. You come back to it every year, these woods. Someone needs to look after it. Not like you do that, but at least taking the time to come back and see it makes you feel a little better.

Maybe you aren’t looking after it, but at least you’re looking.

Being home from college is… fun. Mostly.

You love your family, but you sure as hell love these woods too, for when you’ve had enough. There’s one tree that forks into two, right at the heart, that you cried under countless times throughout your childhood.

Now it’s more for nostalgia. Coming home for the long college holidays, you’ve grown up and your family let you do your thing, so you don’t generally have a need to sob your heart out in the wilderness anymore.

Wow, this is making your childhood sound really bad. It wasn’t.

But whenever it was, the woods were there.

Winter is making itself felt now, air slowly numbing your face and fingers. You trail them across the bark of a tree you pass before digging them reluctantly into your coat pockets.

This tree doesn’t look too healthy. Though it still felt normal, the bark is thinning. You wonder if it will live to see new leaves in the spring.

Overhead, the dappled grey sky bears a heavier shadow. You should probably be getting back soon. Making your way, without hurrying, towards the edge of the trees, you trod over their forgotten leaves as they faded into the ground.

Soon the soft carpet of the forest petered out and you found yourself on the familiar roads that led back to your house.

No one else really seemed to be about apart from you. Except for whoever that was that just came around the corner. Hold on-

Is Min Yoongi back here? Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod-

Sucking in a deep breath, you did your utmost to avoid staring at him, eyes trailing along the ground instead. As you drew closer to each other, your grew heartbeat louder in your ears.

Now that wasn’t fair. You were meant to be over this.

But of course that was never the case.

Min Yoongi had grown up here too, a boisterous child that grew into a reserved teenager. What he was doing with himself now, you had no idea, but what was important is that he was here right now. Because maybe the monster crush you harboured for him had never really gone away.

In school, you two had been friends. Not the closest, but you would hang out together, always too shy to really talk. Now the course of life had taken you two apart; you weren’t sure you had spoken to him since you were sixteen.

Okay, he was only steps away now. You had to stay calm.

Act natural. Pretend you haven’t seen him.

Wait, no. That would be impossible. There’s only the two of you on this road, how could you not notice him?

You didn’t want to come off as rude if you ignored him.

In your panic, you looked up to find his eyes trained on you already. While your brain was busy short-circuiting, you settled for a small smile and a quick wave.

For one mortifying moment, you thought he didn’t recognise you at all. His eyebrows remained slightly creased, but just as you were nearly past him, his eyes widened.

“Y/N!”

The wide smile that had taken over his face retreated into a small, shy one as you stopped.

“Hey, Yoongi,” you smiled back.

“What are you up to?” he asked, glancing briefly to the end of the road you had just come from. Towards the forest.

“Just out for a walk,” you explained, “getting away from my family for a bit.”

“I can understand that,” he laughed quietly, scratching absently behind one ear.

“I didn’t realise you were back here,” you prompted after he trailed off, “it’s good to see you again.”

“Yeah, and you,” he nodded, “it’s strange being back sometimes, but it’s good you’re here too.”

Despite the cold, your felt heat in your cheeks. What did he just say?

“I-I mean,” he stuttered, “like, it’s weird, when things are different than you remember them , and so it’s nice when you see someone familiar… yeah.”

“Yeah, yeah, I totally get you,” you swallowed, laughing nervously, “like the forest, it’s not the same anymore-“

“Not the same,” he grimaced, then froze, realising you spoke in unison.

Wide eyed, laughter bubbled from both of you

“Are you going there now?” you asked, “it’s a bit cold isn’t it?”

As the two of you had stood talking, the light had steadily drained from the sky.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” he smirked.

Surprised by his sudden confidence, you just smiled.

“Okay, if you’re sure. I should probably be getting home, though.”

“Sure,” he nodded quickly.

“See you.”

Glancing at the inky sky, you turned to leave, hands delving deeper into the warmth of your coat pockets, when Yoongi cleared his throat behind you.

“Um…”

Now a few steps away from him, you looked over your shoulder.

“We should catch up some time. Properly. If-if you’d like.”

“Yeah, sure,” you smiled widely.

“Nice. I’ll, um, see you soon.”

He gave you a wave, smile dancing on his lips. The moment you turned away, you bit your lip, trying to contain your grin. Practically bouncing your way home, your cheeks were burning by the time you reached your front door.

Stiff fingers fiddling with the key, at last you let yourself in.

No doubt hearing you stomping your shoes on the doormat, your mum came around the corner.

“You were gone a while,” she observed.

“Yeah, bumped into Yoongi on the way back,” you begrudgingly explained.

“Min Yoongi?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I remember when you used to have a silly crush on that boy!” she laughed. Kicking your shoes off, you rolled your eyes but followed her through to the kitchen.

“His family’s always been very strange though,” she continued, “they don’t really talk to anyone. Half the time I don’t even know if there’s anyone at home.”

“You’re spying on their house now?” you joked.

“Well, when they’re shut in all summer, you can’t help wondering,” she defended, “very strange, the lot of them… you would do well to stay away from them, Y/N.”

“But-“

“You’re not even friends with him, why should it be an issue?”

“You’re right,” you sighed.

It was easier to let it slide.

They’re cutting the trees down in the forest.

Walking between the ones that still stand, Yoongi’s mind is still full of you. At least someone else still saw this place. Still cared.

And truth be told, he still cared about you. A chance to see the forest and a chance to speak to you were what kept bringing him back. It would be easy to find another forest somewhere, some wide open space, wilder than this.

But there was a soft spot in his heart for his hometown.

Raising a hand above his head, he sent the last few leaves clinging to a branch spiralling down to the floor on a gust of wind. As he lowered his arm, he let his fingers trail across the bark, leaving frost in their wake.

It was hard, having to hide. His mother told him he couldn’t get close to anyone here. Anyone that didn’t know.

Even playing with you as five-year-olds had been crossing the line, apparently.

On the ground, the leaves cleared from his path. The wind blew colder, skeletal branches rattling together as clouds knitted closer together above.

At the heart of the forest, there was a tree whose trunk forked into two. Climbing nimbly up into the gap, he settled himself and planted his palms against the bark.

“Y/N, go and fetch the bin. It’s frosty again.”

Without questioning, you did as your mother said. She was right about the frost. Unlike her, though, you adored it. Just outside your doorstep, you stopped to stare at the thin coating of white that covered the street.

Every house, every garden, every car was painted with the delicate brush strokes of winter.

Once you had tugged the bin up the drive, you found your mother still talking inside.

“Thanks, love,” she smiled, placing a bowl in front of you, “gosh, I can’t wait for summer again. I can’t stand it’s so cold all the time.”

Instead of voicing your disagreement, you hummed noncommittally as you poured yourself some cereal.

Maybe you would go back to the forest later. It was all you daydreamed about as you munched on your breakfast before retreating to your room.

Until someone knocked on the door.

What you hadn’t seen was the fist hovering over wood, raising and lowering countless times before it finally sounded through your house. Frowning, you stood from your bed and peeked around your window frame.

Min Yoongi was standing in front of your house.

Min Yoongi was standing in front of your house.

The distinct sound of the door swinging open downstairs snapped you from your reverie, frozen on the spot. Shutting your gaping mouth, you looked around, panicked. Your mother was speaking.

You crossed your room in no less than two strides, throwing the door open and speeding down the stairs.

“What brings you here?” your mum was saying as you dashed up behind her.

“Hi Yoongi!” you exclaimed, panting slightly, “thanks mum.”

But of course she couldn’t take the hint. As you waited with bated breath for her to leave the two of you alone, she just looked slowly between you instead.

“You’re here to see my daughter?”

Yoongi swallowed hard under her stare.

“Yes, he is, mum,” you spoke, tone strained.

Really, sometimes it was like you never left. You felt like you had been transported straight back to your school years, asking your mum for permission to go out.

“And we’re going out,” you said firmly when greeted with silence.

Grabbing your coat, you slipped past her.

“Strange to see him out,” she muttered.

Praying Yoongi didn’t hear her sly comment, you hastily shut the door.

“Sorry,” you grimaced, “where do you fancy?”

“Let’s go for a walk.”

Following his lead, you fell into step, heading away from your house.

“I see why you prefer the trees for company.”

Now that startled a laugh out of you. Clamping a hand over your mouth, you stared at Yoongi walking beside you. He didn’t seem fazed, suddenly confident again beside you, hands buried in his hoodie as he kicked his feet walking along.

Lost quickly in conversation, you walked together until you found him leading you towards a small café.

“Drink?” he asked.

“Um, yeah, hot chocolate?” you answered timidly.

Smiling, he disappeared inside and reappeared very soon with two steaming takeaway cups.

“Thanks,” you breathed, taking one warm cup from his fingers and cradling it between your own.

“Didn’t want you to get cold.”

And it certainly did help. Of course you next walked down towards the woods, without a word passing between you about your destination. With the warmth flowing through you, you were perfectly content to keep going through the chilly air as you ditched the cups in a bin.

“Do you remember when Tae got stuck in that tree?” Yoongi commented.

Looking to where he gestured, you laughed.

“It was that one?”

“Yep, it’s still got that branch snapped off,” he pointed.

“Oh, yeah,” you giggled, “that feels so long ago now, doesn’t it?”

Sighing, he took another sip.

“Yeah. It does.”

Silence settled for a short moment, only your muffled steps sounding in the woods.

“Do you know if the others ever come back here?” you wondered aloud.

“Haven’t seen any of them,” he shrugged.

Way back when, there was a huge group at school, which was how you grew connected to Yoongi. There was still a group chat buried somewhere in your phone, but you hadn’t heard from most of them in a long time.

“It’s just us then,” you mused.

“I guess it is,” Yoongi said, a large smile spreading onto his face.

Then he halted, stooping down to the floor. Beside him, you watched him in confusion.

Until he sprung up, a handful of fallen leaves suddenly finding their way into your face.

“Yah!” you shrieked, throwing your hands up too late.

As the last one fell from your spluttering face, you found the shape of Yoongi several trees away, running. Mouth falling open, you instantly gave chase, quickly reaching down for a bundle of your own leaves.

“Min Yoongi!” you yelled, a reply reaching you in the form of his breathless laughter.

Pushing yourself on, your feet pounded towards him. He slowed, going over a slope, giving you opportunity enough to catch up, launching the leaves at his back.

“Argh!” he laughed, arms flapping from beneath the flurry of leaves.

But you couldn’t revel in your revenge for long, as another faceful of leaves was booted towards you. You only caught a glimpse of his gummy smile for a moment before he saw your glare and bolted again.

A gust of wind hindered you pursuit, throwing more soggy leaves at you.

Up ahead, Yoongi was scrambling up a tree. Just as you reached it, he seated himself on a branch, out of your reach. Breathless with laughter, you still tried, flinging leaves up in the air towards him.

They barely reached his feet, swinging above you, instead floating for a pathetic moment before falling right back on top of you.

Shaking them from your head, you heard Yoongi’s loud laughter above you.

Looking up, you were met with an enormous gummy smile as he slipped back down the tree, dropping deftly onto the ground, shoulders still shaking with laughter.

“Sorry,” he panted.

He reached a hand out towards you then. Frozen in surprise, you watched as his thumb met your nose, quickly swiping across it. Cold lingered there as his hand came away, a slight smudge of mud wiped on it.

Self consciously rubbing your nose yourself, you let out a chuckle, a shiver passing through you only a moment later.

“Shit, are you cold?” his smile faltered.

“It’s okay,” you assured, “we’ve just been running about. I’m fine.”

“Okay,” he frowned slightly.

Turning away a little, he shoved his hands into his pockets.

Going with him, you two headed across the woods to the other edge, where you could look over your town as it fell away into countryside. The sky was striped with clouds, yellowish light dimming behind them.

This felt good.

You’ve always liked this forest, hated sharing it with anyone else. But you didn’t mind with Yoongi. After so long, it was odd how quickly you felt comfortable. How fast your feelings resurfaced.

And you couldn’t help wondering…

“Hey, Yoongi?”

“Hmm?”

“Was this… meant to mean anything?”

“What do you mean?” he turned towards you.

You swallowed. Fuck. You might have just shoved your foot in it.

“Er, well, I mean, like, a date or something?” you spoke nervously.

The moment his eyebrows raised, you were certain you had made a mistake.

“Well, no…”

Oh shit.

“But it can be.”

You blinked.

“Say that again?”

“It can be,” he chuckled, warm smile making another appearance.

“Sorry, I wasn’t sure I heard you right,” you said, stunned, turning back to the view. Then you glanced back at him. “So you wouldn’t be opposed to a date?”

“Nope,” he shook his head.

“With me?”

A chuckle responded. “Yes, Y/N. With you.”

In the corner of your eye, a flicker of movement. But then it stopped. Looking around, you saw Yoongi return his hand to his pocket, casting his eyes down.

By the time you were both approaching your driveway again, it was forgotten. You were practically glowing.

Until you saw the figure of your mother in the front window.

The moment she laid eyes on you, she was gone from the window and appeared in the doorway instead.

“Shit, sorry,” you muttered, sharing a glance with Yoongi, “this has been really fun…”

Getting the message, he sent you a smile that squeezed his eyes.

Then he slowed beside you and you carried on, pulling away with a smile of your own.

As you drew closer, your mum stepped out and down the steps.

“Are you alright? Where did you go?” she asked straight away.

She really was worried about this, huh?

“Mum, it’s fine,” you frowned, unable to help the look over your shoulder, “we just went for a walk, what’s the problem?”

If this was her reaction to you spending time with the guy platonically, you thought it safer to leave out the other details for now.

“I told you, something’s not right with him,” she hissed, clearly trying to keep a low voice. Not that she was successful.

“Come on, let’s go inside,” you urged.

Glancing back just before you closed the door, you saw Yoongi turning away. You longed to reach for him, call out to him…

The door clicked shut.

In front of you, your mother stood with folded arms.

“What’s going on?” you asked.

“I don’t know about him, Y/N,” she shook her head, “since he was a child, he’s always been… different.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, whenever there was an accident on the playground, he always seemed to be around. All of us parents knew, it’s why I told you to be careful with him.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. Vaguely, you recalled her saying something like that, but you must have been very small. Either way, perhaps you did stray away from him on the playground.

“No one ever knew for sure, but there were rumours,” she sighed, rubbing her forehead, “maybe he was just troublesome and liked pushing other kids over, but then his family… they never tried to fit in here.”

“And the town gossip has you this worried?” you asked, incredulous.

“I was pleased you were staying away from him in school,” she glared at you, “so where’s this come from? I hoped that silly crush was over.”

“If I was in trouble I would tell you, and you know that,” you stepped forwards, “but I can be with whoever I like! I’m not in school anymore, and Yoongi’s a grown adult too.”

Her eyebrows shot upwards.

“So you’re with him now?”

“…maybe, but what does it matter? It’s what I want to do, mum, I’ll be fine.”

Met with your pleading eyes, she merely glared back, arms tightly folded. She exhaled steadily through her nose.

“Just come and have dinner.”

It started snowing.

You knew your mum wouldn’t want you to go outside in that. But maybe that made it all the more appealing.

She wasn’t over it, and you knew it. Sly comments kept coming your way over dinner, riling you up. Why was she letting schoolground gossip get in the way of you and Yoongi?

By the end of dinner, you were reaching the end of your tether.

If you could just go for a walk, cool off. Literally. Stepping outside, you already hugged your coat a little bit tighter around you.

Just to the forest and back, not far beyond the streetlights, then come back. But as your feet stomped through the newly settling snow, stray flakes catching in your hair, your scowl never lifted.

Your mum had never been too controlling, so why was she so riled up about this one thing? And something that was so important to you? Since school you had had a crush on Yoongi, all those years hanging onto every smile, every laugh, and now something was finally coming true.

Of course that wouldn’t be allowed. Of course, in her book, a bad child grew into a bad adult.

It was true that this town could be very self-contained and you were well used to news circulating. No wonder you hadn’t seen Yoongi back here before. You wanted this to be your chance.

Head turned down against the oncoming snow, you blinked cold flakes from your eyelashes. It was thicker now, blurring in front of you when you looked up.

A gust of wind threaded its fingers through your hair, biting across your slightly damp face. Shoulders hunching, you tried to look around you. Acting of their own accord, your feet had carried you to the forest.

You should head back.

Turning on the spot, you squinted through the darkness for the streetlights at the edge of the trees.

But darkness surrounded you.

Stomach dropping, you rubbed your hands together in front of you. Definitely should have worn gloves.

The white that now coated the forest floor and its branches reflected the precious little moonlight that could reach you here, letting you know you were among the larger trees. Your mind whirled with panic almost as fast as the snow falling around you.

When a shiver shook your frame, you knew you had to move.

If you picked a direction, you would surely find a way back eventually. The forest wasn’t that big, was it?

Maybe they had cut down some trees, but it turned out the woodland was not small. At least, it didn’t feel that way when cold water was seeping through your jeans and clinging to your face and hair. Try as you might to carve out a straight path, the snowstorm was growing, wind forcing you to lower your head.

Still, all you could see was darkness, the ghosts of trees looming from behind the blizzard in the air.

Sniffling, you tried to fight off the panicked tears threatening to spill. This had all been a bad idea. You just wanted to get home.

But unbeknownst to you, someone else was in the woods too.

Not many trees away, perched in his usual spot, Yoongi’s palms met the gnarled bark as he channelled his energy. The storm fell peacefully around him. Breathing deeply, he felt himself letting go.

He knew what this town thought of him. He hadn’t been careful enough, like his parents had told him to. He just never thought that anyone would still remember, not least your mother.

But he couldn’t claim she was wrong. Being Jack Frost came with its dangers, its responsibilities.

And he should have known better. He just wanted you, badly enough that he decided to go for it against his better judgement.

His sadness made itself known in storms like this: not violent or noisy, just cold.

As the white flakes filled the air, he looked out across the darkness of the forest. Wind tugged gently at his white hair but the snow didn’t touch him, evaporating before it hit his shoulders.

He called another gust of wind, threading it through the air, across the land.

When it reached him, it carried something with it.

His eyes opened, looking around through the storm to see where it had come from. It was normal for the branches to rattle, for animals to scurry home, but that wasn’t either sound. It sounded like a person. And not a happy one.

No one else should be out here.

Turning his head left and right, he finally made out a shadowy shape a few trees away.

Quickly and quietly, he slid off his perch, obscuring his body with the trunk of the tree. Around him, the snow calmed a little, drifting calmly once more.

As the person walked closer, he saw them wipe a hand across their cheek. And that sound came again. Were they… crying?

Louder this time, and finally they stepped into a lighter patch…

His eyes widened. What the hell were you doing out here? Assessing you with a flick of his eyes, he knew you must be freezing.

When you stopped suddenly, turning around as your shoulders slumped, he had to force himself to stay behind his tree.

Briefly wetting his lips with his tongue, he looked towards the shortest way out. Why weren’t you going that way? Instead, you were stumbling off in the opposite direction, looking to the ground.

“No,” he muttered urgently, head darting between you and the right path.

Then he made a snap decision.

Pursing his lips, he called up a gust of wind with a quirk of his hand, stopping you in your tracks as it collided with you forcefully. With wide eyes, you whipped around as the wind charged through the forest, carving a winding channel through the trees.

And on the path it tracked, the snow stopped, hovering in stasis along the sides as if lighting the way.

Not daring to breathe, Yoongi studied your face carefully as you stared at the space path he had created. Slowly coming to your senses, you turned your head. He ducked back behind the trunk, breaths falling shallow from his lips.

The snow suspended in the air waited with him until crunching footsteps met his ears.

Peering back out, he watched your form retreating through the woods, perfectly framed between the trees as you trod the right path.

He watched you go, knowing what he had to do.

The snow fell thicker.

Yoongi would come around soon. The day after your little escapade into the storm, he hadn’t shown his face. But that was fine. It would be weird to come back the day after your first… whatever it was. Right?

But today, he would come.

And when he did, you would make sure you got his number. In a town like this, he could easily come knocking, like he had the other day, but you were sick of waiting around like this.

All day you had been restless, failing to keep yourself from the window as you hoped to see him walking down your road. You longed to tell him about what you had seen in the woods that night.

It had taken you a while to decide you hadn’t dreamt it. But the chills running though you and the damp clothes on your radiator said otherwise. Sure, you had always felt a connection with the woods, but you never expected them to do something in return.

That was what happened, though. They had shown you the way home through the storm.

Last night, you had braved the cold to go there again. The snow lay harmlessly on the ground by now, but you had still kept your wits about you and gone before dark.

Nothing.

Maybe it would just be your little secret.

Or yours and Yoongi’s, if he ever turned up.

The urge to look out of the window returned, and you fought valiantly. Staring at the ceiling was a lot less productive than staring outside, so eventually you stood.

And gaped.

He was actually there!

Right on your driveway, biting his lip as he looked up at your house.

Or maybe…

He was looking at your mum. You stilled, having been ready to race downstairs, but now you watched in horror as your mum marched down the drive.

“Sorry, Yoongi,” you heard, “Y/N isn’t in.”

“Oh, sorry Mrs L/N,” he bowed his head, “I just wanted to talk to her-“

“Well you’ll be doing no such thing,” she snapped, “she won’t be getting mixed up with you. I think you should leave now.”

Hands shaking as they gripped the window frame, you were ready to run out to them, when you heard something in response. It was quiet, so you had to strain to hear it, but when you did you could only stare.

“Could you just… could you tell her that I like her? A lot.”

Your mum scoffed, but as she opened her mouth he continued, looking at the floor.

“-and I won’t be seeing her again. You’re right. I’ll stay away.”

Rooted on the spot, you could only gape as the figures of Yoongi and your mother stood still outside. Then your mum broke the silence.

“Very good.”

“Will you tell her?”

“You should leave,” she said firmly.

Shoulders slumping, he turned away, not even looking back. His footsteps carrying him away were what finally made you move.

“Yoongi!” you shouted, tearing down the stairs as the door slammed.

“Y/N,” your mother’s voice warned.

“What is going on!” you asked desperately, trying to move around her only to be blocked.

“He doesn’t want to see you.”

“No! That’s not true! I heard him-“

“He won’t be seeing you then. It’s for the best.”

“Why?” you cried, tears pricking at your eyes, “what is so wrong with him?”

But instead of an equal retaliation, she heaved a sigh. Blinking furiously, you watched her raise her eyes to meet yours.

“His family… they’ve lived here as long as ours. They’re all strange. Weird things happen. Some sort of… magic. And they don’t mix with us. Never have, but that’s how it should be. They’re not like us, Y/N,” she finished with emphasis.

Meanwhile, a frown had taken over your face.

“That’s- what- that’s ridiculous!” you spluttered, “he’s not magic! And if he is, I don’t care!”

And with that, you pushed past her, tumbling out onto the drive, eyes desperately scanning the bare street.

But you didn’t stop there. Ignoring the defeated calls of your mother, you started running. Yoongi couldn’t have got far; and anyway, you had an idea where he might have gone. You had to catch up. You couldn’t let go of him this easily.

Feet pounding hard on the ground beneath you, you barely noticed the darkening sky above you. Clouds swirled together, looming over your small town.

The wind picked up, throwing your hair back in your face as it tore back and forth across the path. As you dashed at last between the shadows of trees, the floor was practically crawling as leaves tossed themselves along the ground.

Some launched upwards as powerful gusts rushed through the bare branches above, and soon the pummelling of hail joined the rattling of the trees.

Stumbling to a stop deep in the forest, you whirled around, trying to spot Yoongi. Wind continued to assault you, swirling in all directions in the air, trees groaning among the whooshing air.

“Yoongi!” you called at the top of your lungs. Your voice was lost instantly in the cacophony of the storm, stinging hailstones on your cheeks the only response.

Exhaling swiftly, you took off once more, still calling out.

And then you saw him.

Shoulders hunched, his outstretched arms were braced against a tree. Though his head was lowered, you could see the heaving of his chest.

Picking up the pace, you smiled in relief.

“Yoongi!”

Instantly, he sprung away from the tree, head darting around him as he looked for you. But when he met your eyes, they only grew.

And then he was running too.

Away from you.

“Hey! Yoongi!” you shouted after him.

But a roar from the forest drowned you out.

Running faster, hail chucked itself spitefully into your face, the wind surging against you from the darkening sky. Struggling on, you held your hands in front of your face, only lowering them when you trailed to a stop.

Yoongi was nowhere in sight.

Something was wrong. Why was he running away from you?

A loud creak from somewhere above you made you wince. Moving again, you called out Yoongi’s name into the storm.

The hail let up a little as you pressed on, but the raging air only grew more forceful. Creaks and groans from the battered trees surrounded you. Squinting around you, you let your feet stumble on, needing to find him. Among the storm, you could barely hear your thumping footsteps.

An ear-splitting creak made you flinch, head whipping around.

The dark shape of a tree trunk was growing bigger – growing closer.

A blur then, your eyes squeezing shut by instinct, awaiting the crash of the giant hitting the earth.

Nothing.

Cracking your eyelids open, the wind lulled in the air around you, silence buzzing loud in your ears. In front of you, the tree was tilting dangerously, towering directly over you, but caught in mid-air. And holding it up, a colossal sheet of ice, jagged icicles sticking out to one side as if from impact.

You blinked. Let out a breath.

Following the trail of ice, you turned to the side.

There, hand still outstretched, panting slightly, stood Min Yoongi.

“I’m sorry,” he half-whispered.

As you stared blankly back in shock, his eyes flicked back to the tree above you.

“Come here,” he spoke, beckoning you with his other hand.

Obeying, you trod carefully towards him. Once near enough, he gently placed a hand on your sweater-covered arm, guiding you to his side.

As you watched, he lowered his left hand slowly, the wall of ice retracting with it, melting back into the ground. With barely a bump, the tree was lowered to rest.

Returning your eyes gingerly to the boy beside you, your gaze was not returned.

His eyelids shut, lips pressing together as he bowed his head, bringing his arm back to his side at last. He swallowed.

“Y-yoongi?” you whispered.

“I’m sorry, I really am,” he muttered, still not meeting your eyes, “I should never have started anything…”

“But-but I want you!” you protested.

Now he looked at you. He looked at you like you were crazy.

“Did you not see that? What I just did?”

“You saved me.”

A breath.

“But… all the rest? I-I made that tree fall too-”

“The wind made it fall-“

“Y/N,” he stopped you, “your mum is right. I can be dangerous, okay? This storm, that’s me.”

Studying your face carefully, he waited for your reaction.

“Why?”

“It’s always been like this,” he sighed, “I’m… I have storm magic. Winter magic. My family, we’re- I’m… Jack Frost.”

Your eyebrows raised.

“No, but I mean, why the storm? Is something wrong?”

A breathy laugh burst from his lips as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Of course there is! I can’t have you.”

“You don’t have to be scared,” you insisted.

“Don’t you understand? You’re the one who should be scared!” he cried, throwing his arms out.

“No,” you shushed him, stepping forward and slowly reaching out, “you’re scared – of hurting me. You don’t have to be.”

Settling, he watched your hand reach through the air. But as it hovered by his cheek, he pulled away.

“Don’t…”

“Yoongi, I want you.”

“And I want you. But you can’t touch me. I’ll just be cold…”

“Don’t worry,” you smiled.

But as you moved again, his hand came up to grasp your wrist, stopping you.

Then his eye widened, realising what he’d done. But you hadn’t flinched away. Looking at your hands held together, his mouth formed ghosts of words he never spoke, not knowing what to say.

“See?” you encouraged, “it’s not cold.”

Wonder-filled eyes rose, meeting your own. Closing the distance between you, he dropped your wrist and lifted both his hands to cup your face instead, touching you softly as if you were made from porcelain.

A breath escaped his lungs, mouth curving into a gummy smile.

Elated, a smile tugged at your own lips.

Then he surged forwards, lips pressing against yours like a starved man. Moving his mouth hungrily over yours, he held your face firmly between his hands as you eagerly kissed him back. Suddenly his hands were unable to get enough, sliding down to your waist and roaming across your back as he pulled you closer.

Equally enthusiastic, you tugged at his shirt, lips keeping up their mind-blowing rhythm until you were both left panting, foreheads pressed together as your breaths turned to laughter between you.

“Screw what this town thinks,” you grinned, “I’m not letting you go after that.”

“Good,” he growled, smirk adorning his face as he darted in for another lingering kiss.

The trees you stood among had watched you both grow, watched you hurt, and now they finally saw you come together, painted by the setting sun in a clear sky.

Thank you for reading!! Reblog this if you enjoyed, it helps me get exposure unlike likes💜

@aianloveseven​ @preciouschimine​

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[respectablesentiment]

A hand tears at Dina’s hood, another grabs her ankle, dragging her back until she can kick it off. By the time she looks up, a runner has broken through the fence, Ellie is yelling and on her back, pushing and shoving and attempting to hold it away from her. -- prompt: abandonment, day 5 of elliedina week this is a sequel to day 4, please read 'warmth' first to understand the background. AU where Ellie was never bitten, until she is. set the day after the winter dance. Dina POV.

(day 1: ache) | (day 2: dawn) | (day 3: trouble) | (day 4: warmth)

or you can read ‘gone’ here:

gone

Dina gets the girl. Finally.

They dance long into the night, swaying together until the band packs up.

Ellie had always been so hard to wrangle, reluctant to show up and unwilling to join in. It seemed like all the tension melted from her body when their lips touched, her smile was warm and dopey, her eyes full of hope and disbelief, and all protests about dancing faded in her reverie.

Ellie’s arms around her were warm and protective, her cheek brushing against Dina’s was soft, and Dina just couldn’t stop kissing her.

It felt like a daydream.

Dina wanted to take it slow, not push too soon. They part that night with a tender smile and the promise of tomorrow. She spends most of the night lying awake, grinning to herself in the darkness. She’d cared for Ellie deeply for a long time, felt an instant connection to the awkward silent girl who showed up with tear-stained cheeks and a wistful smile.

There was something about her that stuck out, that both rattled and called Dina to her.

It never really made sense until she saw Ellie with Cat and then the confusing feelings swirling in her stomach crystallised into spikes.

It made her more determined to make things work with Jesse, but they knew that the love between them was just friendship and convenience. She’ll always be thankful for him and his calm presence, a steady ship in the storm, content to sit beside her silently on the anniversaries of darker days and eager to encourage her to follow her heart.

He eyes them warningly the next morning before patrol, running through his normal instructions with an additional plea to be safe.

The sky is clear and the day is bright.          

And then it isn’t.

A snowstorm takes them off the road, into an old library where they lose themselves for a couple of hours until the weather lightens.

Ellie is eager to move on, to finish running the route so they can return without worrying everyone.

They must have been in the eye of the storm then, unknowing and hopeful, ignorant to what was ahead of them.

The sky grew darker and the snow picked up obscuring their vision.

They leave their horses when they spot a lone runner ahead. Ellie slowly creeping forward to grab it. A broken street sign creaking in the wind.

When Ellie is halfway, she freezes.

It takes Dina a second longer to hear it, to registers the groans around them. Staggering footsteps. Then snarls and screeches.

She rushes forward just as Ellie rushes back, grasping at one another before sprinting onwards.

“Run,” Ellie says breathlessly. “We have to run.”

Dina is terrified, scrambling down a steep hill, losing her footing at times and sliding to keep momentum. They pass several houses, twisting and turning in the darkness, and her socks are wet from the creeks they splash through.

They’re so close, just behind them and beside them and ahead of them as they zigzag across the rooftops of buses.

“Here!” Ellie shouts just as Dina feels there’s no escape, vaulting over a fence.

Dina follows, heart racing as they search for a way forward.

There’s Infected slamming on the gate.

A narrow passageway down the side of the building in front of them, protected only by a chain link fence.

Dina pushes Ellie forward, following her closely as they run, the fence crumples under the weight, Ellie’s hand finds hers as they shimmy along, backs pressed to the wall as they attempt to avoid the hands grasping for them.

The fence crumples further, and before Dina realises they are crawling.

Forward, forward, forward.

A hand tears at Dina’s hood, another grabs her ankle, dragging her back until she can kick it off.

By the time she looks up, a runner has broken through the fence, Ellie is yelling and on her back, pushing and shoving and attempting to hold it away from her.

Dina shoots before she can think about it.

Pure instinct and adrenaline.

She helps Ellie to her feet, tugging her forwards as more come through the fence.

Ellie looks shaken, blood splattered across her face, but there’s no time.

“Come on, there’s too many,” Dina says. “Run, go!” She covers her, shooting a few as they make it through before continuing.

“Here, here!” Ellie yells, throwing a molotov at the Infected approaching from the other end of the hallway.

They take the door to their right, barricading it before taking a breath. The door slams and jumps unnervingly in front of them.

“There’s so many,” Ellie says quietly.

Dina is panting, her hands on her knees and her heart in her throat. “Where the hell did they come from?”

“Doesn’t matter, we gotta find a way out,” Ellie says, her jaw clenched as she moves forward.

Ellie peers through the gaps in the boarded-up windows, antsy and restless.

Dina searches for supplies and weapons as quickly as she can, tossing a steel bar to Ellie.

“Watch the windows,” Ellie says quietly, moments before a runner climbs through.

They put at least four down before they move forward again. It’s only then that Dina recognises where they are, the old gondola station.

Ellie curses under her breath. “Quick, help me with this,” she asks, shutting the door beside them and tipping one of the large lockers into place to hold it shut. “That won’t last long.”

“We gotta move,” Dina says, scanning their surroundings. “The window, we just need a boost.” She’s still desperately searching as they’re rushed again.

They work together to take care of it, aware of the splintering door behind them.

Together they push one of the gondolas back onto a trolley, moving it over to the window to climb over and out.

“Forward, forward,” Ellie chants. “Come on, go!”

There’s more outside than Dina can count, climbing over cars, rushing closer and closer in the snowstorm.

“Here, this door!” Ellie yells, shooting a runner as it comes almost come enough to grab her.

They get inside, lungs burning and Dina holds the door shut as Ellie fits a solid plank of wood in the barricade brackets.

“You okay?” Ellie asks, turning to her, her eyes are wide and fearful as she grips Dina’s shoulders to look her over. “Are you alright? Did they touch you?” Ellie demands, she pushes at Dina’s sleeves, pulls at the collar of her jacket to examine her neck.

It’s only then that Dina sees it.

The stain on Ellie’s sleeve, the tear in her jacket, the bite on her arm.

“You-” Dina stammers, heart cracking in her chest.

“Are you alright?” Ellie demands again.

Dina nods jerkily, clutching at Ellie. “Ellie-”

Tears streaming down her cheeks.

“We can’t stay here,” Ellie says, looking back to the door. “You need to keep moving.”

“Ellie,” Dina sobs brokenly.

Ellie is more focused on another doorway behind them, slipping out of Dina’s grasp to pile things against it. “Help me with this?” She asks, putting all of her weight behind moving a solid table in front of the door.

Dina doesn’t move, watching as Ellie successfully moves the table, stacking more furniture to barricade the smaller door before shifting her focus back to the main door.

Her eyes trace Ellie’s jaw line, the hair escaping her bun, the slope of her nose, the curve of her lips, the constellations of freckles she’d never be able to fully memorise.

“-okay? Dina? Dina!” Ellie pleads. “Are you listening?”

“I- yeah,” Dina says lamely, her thirst dry and her words quiet. Ellie’s eyes were the most beautiful shade of green she’d ever seen and she doesn’t know if she’s ever been able to tell her that.

“I need you to go, okay? You need to run. They’re just on this side for now and I can hold them off,” Ellie says, calm and resolute. There’s an edge behind her eyes that Dina’s never seen.

“I love you,” Dina says breathlessly, almost a whisper.

Ellie’s expression falters for a second before it becomes guarded once again.

“I never- I never got to tell you, I didn’t want to push too fast,” Dina says, stumbling over her words as they spill out of her, clinging to Ellie’s jacket. “But I do. I love you, as my best friend and more. I’m in love with you,” Dina continues, pressing herself against Ellie, her forehead against Ellie’s. “I don’t know for how long. You’re my favourite person, you’re wonderful and beautiful and kind and funny, and I love you.” The words rush out of her.

“Dina-”

“You’re so strong and so brave and I love you so much,” Dina says, the words are angry now and she smacks her fists against Ellie’s chest. “I love you so fucking much,” she sobs, hot tears streaming down her face.

“I’m so sorry, Dina,” Ellie says, acknowledging it finally. “I’m so sorry.” She clings to Dina in return, the embrace almost crushing.

The pounding grows louder.

“You have to go,” Ellie pleads. “I need you to go.”

“I can’t leave you,” Dina whimpers. “I can’t.”

“I’m already gone,” Ellie murmurs, the look in her eyes is indescribably and it only serves to make Dina cry harder.

“Ellie, no, please no,” Dina sobs, vision blurred by tears, heart lying somewhere near her feet.

“Go,” Ellie repeats solemnly. “Tell Joel and Tess that I love them, that I’m sorry, and that I’ll always be thankful for everything they’ve given me.” She cups Dina’s cheeks in her hands, looking at her searchingly.

Dina nods. “I promise,” she stammers.

“I love you too,” Ellie tells her, kissing Dina firmly. She squares her shoulders, the weight of the world bearing down on her. “I’ll hold them off,” she mutters, turning away. “It’s my turn.”

Dina barely catches her words, her heartbeat loud and punishing in her ears. She doesn’t move.

“Please, Dina,” Ellie pleads, looking back to her. “I’m already gone, just go, please!” Ellie pleads, the look in her eyes is indescribable and it only serves to make Dina cry harder.

“I love you,” Dina repeats brokenly, wiping at her face roughly. “I love you so much, forever.”

“I love you too,” Ellie replies.

Her words sound like an apology.

“Please go.”

So she does.  

[rosy-wooyoung]

[11:39]

🎄 Day 12 of the Christmas project 🎄

Since it was almost Christmas and you were getting very stressed to do the last remaining chores before the end of the year, taking a walk in the park with your boyfriend during your lunchbreak sounded like the perfect idea to wind down and forget about work for two little hours. The park held a special place in your heart, it was the spot where you had first met each other with Seonghwa. Two years ago, you were jokingly chasing after your three-year-old godson, who couldn’t stay in place. Every time that you weren’t looking, or your friend was searching something in her bag, he would run to pet the dog Seonghwa and the woman accompanying him – his sister, something that you didn’t know at that time – were keeping. The two adults were understanding, but you and your friend couldn’t help but feel ashamed as your godson kept bothering them.

In the park, Seonghwa chuckled discreetly as you arrived in front of the spot where he had fallen in you for the first time. He remembered his sister urging him to get up and introduce himself to you as you were about to leave, and he came back with a smile plastered on his face and your phone number in his contacts lists. But now, there were a few small wooden houses that are only there when it's Christmas time, replacing the spot where you had exchanged your first few words.

Those cute houses were selling a bunch of random things related to Christmas, and you loved looking at the homemade, handcrafted things displayed in front of you. It could be mugs, teas, knitted accessories, even coats, you adored observing everything that was around you.

You had a paper mug from your local coffee shop in hand, the only source of warmth as you had miserably forgotten your gloves at home. You thought they were in your purse when you left your house, but you were wrong. They were still resting on the chest of drawers right in the entrance hall, abandoned on the side, waiting for you to pick them up. And because of your mistake, your hands were now cold since the morning, mentally cursing yourself for being so forgetful. They could get freezing, to the point of almost not feeling the tips anymore. Add to this the fact that you spent the entire day alone, sitting at your desk, typing on your computer as you fulfilled your tasks of the day. There could be a heatwave or a snowstorm happening outside, no matter the weather or the situation, your hands were cold. Even wrapping them around a cup of tea or placing them between your thighs would only be temporarily helping, but as soon as your fingers were back on the keyboard, they would freeze again.

You looked at some handmade cutlery, a cute set decorated by painted bees and two bear cubs trying to reach the beehive at the top of a tree, your heart melted at the design. It was adorable.

"How much?" you asked as you delicately placed the cup on the saucer. "45$ for the entire set, 20$ for two cups and the saucers," the lady said, and you looked around to look for your boyfriend.

He was at another stall, lurking for some warm Christmas food. You could see that the mulled orange juice and the gingerbread were tempting him.

"Hwa?" you called, and he turned around, questioningly looking at you with a smile. He excused himself to the seller, probably telling him that he'd be back in a while before coming to you. "Yes, love?" he asked after greeting the woman with a nod, his haze following your finger. "Look how cute this is!" you exclaimed as you delicately handed him a cup, smiling at the seller, who was slightly blushing at your compliments, "and it's only 45$!" "I have to admit that they're pretty cute," he stated as he reached for his wallet in his back pocket, "so, 45$ for the entire set?" "Yes, Sir," she answered, and your eyes widened as he handed her a 50$ bill. "Babe, wait, I-" you said as your boyfriend looked at you with slightly furrowed eyebrows. "What? Don't you want it?" he said, and you blinked. "Well, yeah, but I... I just wanted your opinion, not your money," you shyly said. Your true intentions were to show him your discovery, never calling him over to pay.

He chuckled at your words and let go of the bill, letting the seller know that it was hers now. She handed him the 5 dollars in change and took the set, wrapping it in bubble wraps before sliding it in a bag, carefully handing it to you.

"Thank you and Merry Christmas!" she said to you two as Seonghwa took the bag, placing his hand on your shoulder to walk away after bidding farewell to the lady. "Hwa, I-" "Y/N, stop," he laughed before looking at you, pulling you closer to kiss you on the temple, "just take this as a present for the promotion you've had back at the end of last month. It's okay."

Indeed, you had received a pay rise on your payslip, but due to your both hectic schedules, you simply couldn't find the time to celebrate together. Yes, you had popped open a bottle of champagne the day you had opened the envelope, but nothing else, despite your boyfriend's promise.

"Thank you," you timidly said, and Seonghwa was about to say that it was nothing when he grabbed your hand. “Y/N!" he said, surprised at the feeling of your skin touching each other, "your hands are freezing!” "Oh, it's nothing," you sheepishly said as you retracted your hands in your coat sleeves, but the coldness didn't subside, they were just sheltered from the wind. "You can't hang around with freezing hands and act like it's no big deal," he said as he handed you the bag, freeing his hands to search in his pockets. He got two hot packs from his inside pockets and placed them in your hand, the warmth slowly getting rid of this uncomfortable, cold feeling. They weren't even effective, but the fact that they stayed between the feathers of Seonghwa's coat and his chest were already doing a great job at keeping your hands warm.

He took the bag back in one hand, the other linking with one of yours, sinking them in his coat pockets. Because yes, he had pockets, those little bundles of warmth that were almost non-existent on women's winter coat, or they were fake. You truly cursed the designers for removing them for “fashion” purposes, you found the reason completely ridiculous. Why do you have to be cold to be fashionable? And yet, being on-trend was a bit of an overstatement. The hot packs started working, and it was something very relieving, even if the warmth sent goosebumps down your spine. Your boyfriend kept your hands linked in his pocket, his thumb caressing your cold skin.

Without a warning, Seonghwa stopped and pulled your next to him, his eyes catching the attention of something that could make you feel warmer. Knitted gloves!  

"Hwa, I promise you that the hot packs are more than enough! You don't have to spend your money on me-" you argued, but Seonghwa didn't want to hear anything, shoving the gloves in your hands as he handed another bill to the seller. "Keep your money for Christmas, please," you whispered through gritted teeth, your voice close to begging, pleading. You sighed but put the gloves on anyway as you briefly said goodbye, feeling guilty that Seonghwa was spending his money on gifts for you.

To be quite honest, you weren't used to people being this generous towards you. Your parents always gave you the strict minimum to survive, and you got used to living with what you had when you were a child. Now that you were a grown-up, earning your income, you didn't spend it as others would. You preferred to keep your money safe in your account, just in case something would happen, as you would always say. Some of your friends saw you as a stingy person, but you just felt guilty every time you took money out of your account. Whenever you tried to indulge yourself by buying things that you wanted or needed, you would feel remorseful for spending money on those unnecessary things the days following your purchase.

Seonghwa had noticed your attitude. He appreciated that you were careful with your money, but he thought that it was a bit too much. You were too suspicious, too strict with yourself. You earned enough money to allow yourself to splurge a bit from time to time.

"Love," he said as he cradled your face with his left hand, the other replacing a piece of hair behind your ear. "It's okay. I still have enough money left in my account for Christmas, you don't have to worry about this. I'm more worried about your well-being and your cold hands," he said as he softly pressed his lips to your cheek. You smiled and imitated him, going on your tiptoes to reach his lips as a thank you. He beamed as you ended your swift kiss. "My break is almost over," you pouted as you checked the time on your phone. Seonghwa tenderly looked at you and made you swirl around, already beginning to walk back towards your office.  "It's okay darling, we'll get to spend the evening together, one of my international meetings got cancelled before I came here," he said, and it was your turn to smile, snuggling yourself against him as you slowly got out of the park, now walking on the pavement to get to the bus shelter. "I'll wait for you at your company's reception," he said, and you nodded, your boyfriend softly pressing the back of your head to nuzzle your face in his chest while waiting for the bus to come.

"Are your hands still cold?" he said as his free hand reached for yours, which you did, and he hummed in content when he slid his finger between your hand and the glove. "Keep them until you come into the office and remember to drink something warm if you're cold. Don't neglect yourself, okay?" "I'll try," you said and looked up at him, giving him a kiss on the lips as you heard the bus pulling up. "See you tonight," you said as you got into the bus, sitting next to the window to wave at your boyfriend, only to have him sending you a flying kiss.

"I love you," he mouthed and winked, the bus departing as you smiled to yourself with burning cheeks.

[swaps55]

Winter Asks Caught in a Snowstorm because Sam and weather.

The snow is festive, at least.

Too often there isn’t much snow in December, especially in Vancouver, and all the holiday decorations just end up looking drab and…damp under the grey winter skies. Not so today. The flakes of snow outside are coming down even thicker than they had been back in the mountains of the BC Interior. Snow this hard isn’t that uncommon out at the orchard, but Vancouver usually doesn’t see it.

Outside the train station, wreaths hanging on the lampposts wear a fresh blanket of white. Too early in the day for various holiday lights to be on, but Kaidan vividly remembers the massive display the city puts on down by the bay every year. Adding snow to the mix will make it nothing short of magic. Been a long time since he’s been on Earth for Christmas, and this year will be Shepard’s first experience with Christmas period.

It’s…not going well.

Outside may look like a pleasant winter wonderland, but inside the train station the collective mood of the thickening crowd waiting for loved ones gets farther and farther from goodwill to all, despite the plethora of Santa hats and garish holiday sweaters.

Shepard in particular has the look in his eyes that usually precedes solving a problem with a shotgun, which contrasts rather spectacularly with the evergreen sweater and gold jingle bell on a bright red cord Kaidan strung around his neck. The farther away they get from wearing combat armor, the more fascinating it is to see the soldier emerge.

If Kaidan had any idea how stressful the prospect of celebrating a holiday was going to become, he wouldn’t have pushed for it. For the past two weeks Shepard has approached Christmas like he’s coordinating a full-scale assault on an enemy stronghold. Like it’s something he has to win. The poor tree they’d decorated in the living room practically salutes every time he walks through the door.

Kaidan hasn’t dared introduce the ugly sweater concept. The levels Sam could take it to don’t bear thinking about, so he’ll leave that one for his mother.

If she ever gets here.  

Shepard paces the train platform, bell jangling with each step, occasionally glaring up at the arrival screen, where the 13:00 train from Kamloops still shows Delayed in red letters.

Kaidan eyes him cautiously. Despite the temptation to say ‘I told you so,’ a peace-on-Earth approach is probably the better choice right now. If Shepard were particularly open to peaceful negotiation.

“Fucking weather,” Shepard mutters under his breath, peering out a window with a scowl. “I hate planets.”

He’s not open to peaceful negotiation.

They’d spent four hours in a skycar to get here, in spite of all of Kaidan’s arguments for why it was a bad idea. Shepard hasn’t learned yet that when Kaidan’s mother makes a plan, you don’t alter the plan. And the plan had been she would take the high-speed rail from Toronto to Vancouver and find her own way to the orchard. It was her plan. Sam’s idea to surprise her at the station was doomed to failure, no matter how noble his intentions.

Of course, the fact he wanted to do it so badly is more than Kaidan’s heart can stand, but that doesn’t change the laws of the universe. Or his mother.  

“You can’t surprise my mother,” Kaidan tried to tell him. “It doesn’t work. Trust me.”

“It’ll work,” Sam insisted, back when he was naïve and optimistic.

Shepard, so accustomed to the galaxy getting out of his way whenever he it wanted to, doesn’t understand the opposing force that is Lora Alenko. Or blizzards.

“I flew a Mako through a mass relay and we really can’t figure out how to keep the trains running in snow?” Shepard demands.

“Apparently,” Kaidan says, suppressing a sigh. The sigh would not help matters.

The red lights on the arrival sign flicker, then change. Sam straightens, hopeful, until the word Cancelled appears.

“Son of a bitch,” he swears, throwing an arm in the air. “Fuck this holiday bullshit.” A few people look in his direction, including a kid wearing a red and green knit cap who can’t be more than ten. He grips his mother’s hand, eyes widening with recognition.

Chagrin creeps over Shepard’s face. He clears his throat and offers the kid a salute, before dragging Kaidan further away from the crowd.

“First,” he says, before Kaidan can open his mouth. “Don’t say it. Second, now what do we do?”

“We go home,” Kaidan says gently. “She’ll get here when she gets here. It’s fine.”

“No it isn’t.” Shepard runs a hand over his scalp and continues pacing. More people start looking their way, so Kaidan takes him by the hand and leads him outside, where the snow continues falling even thicker than before. At this point, just getting themselves home is going to be interesting.

Sam continues muttering under his breath as they walk, jingle bell tinkling merrily. Kaidan puts a hand on his arm, tightening until he stops.

“Hey,” Kaidan says.

Shepard turns his glare skyward, as though he has half a mind to out-temper the storm. Wouldn’t be the first time. He’d ground Noveria’s snow right under his heel. Of course, that time he’d had an armored tank with an eezo core. Surely he can’t do the same with a skycar.

…surely.

“This was supposed to go right,” Sam says in defeat.

Kaidan brushes away the snow collecting on Shepard’s shoulder, hiding a smile at the sight of flakes melting on his head. He’d spent so much time joking about making them both wear Santa hats he hadn’t thought to grab real hats.

“First lesson about holidays,” Kaidan says with a chuckle. “Nothing ever goes according to plan. Kind of like you.”

Sam exhales, warm breath dissipating into steam. He runs a gloved finger down Kaidan’s cheek, channeling some of his intensity into one of those looks that never fails to make him weak at the knees.

“Sam,” Kaidan says, meeting his gaze. “Talk to me. What’s going on? You’ve been a man on a mission for weeks. It’s supposed to be something you – something we – enjoy.”

His expression twists in a way that makes Kaidan’s heart ache. “You’re…my family. Your mom…is now my family. Holidays are important to you.” He hesitates. “And I kind of wanted it to be important to me.”

Kaidan gazes at him, too many thoughts swirling in his head to give voice to any of them. So he leans in and kisses him, softly at first, then more insistently as Sam wraps an arm around his neck and pulls him flush. For the thousandth time, Kaidan wonders how two people fit so perfectly together.

When Kaidan finally pulls away Sam sighs, blinking away flakes of snow.

“Then let’s go home,” Kaidan says. “And I promise, when she gets here? We’ll make it important to all of us.”

Kaidan takes his hand as they walk back towards the skycar. Just for the hell of it, he sticks his tongue out to catch a snowflake, persisting until Sam laughs and tugs him close.

It’s late by the time they make it back to the orchard. The strings of Christmas lights Sam had hung meticulously over the front bushes twinkle merrily, but to their surprise the house itself blazes with light.

Sam’s hand reaches for a sidearm he no longer carries, suspicion in his eyes. “Did you leave the lights on?”

“Nope,” Kaidan says, hiding a smile as he gets out of the skycar.

“Then what the—”

Kaidan chuckles. “You are not the only person who can bully the universe, Sam.”

When they walk in the house Kaidan’s mother sits on the couch with a glass of wine, feet up and adorned with a pair of candy cane slippers, fire roaring merrily in the fireplace. When she gets to her feet, she wears a knit red sweater emblazoned with a green Christmas tree that lights up with omnitool powered lights.

“There you are!” she exclaims as they stamp snow off their boots. “Where the hell have you been?”

Kaidan grins and crosses the room to sweep her up in a hug.

“We…went to get you,” Sam says, giving her a baffled look. “How did you get here? Your train was cancelled.”

“Aunt Li had some last-minute things she needed to take care of, and I saw the weather, so I took an earlier train.”

“I told you,” Kaidan says. “You can’t surprise her.”  

“You tried to surprise me?” she asks, genuinely touched.

Kaidan steps aside and she opens her arms expectantly, waggling her fingers until Sam steps sheepishly into them. She leans in and murmurs in his ear, “Good luck with that.”

Sam narrows his eyes, but holds her tight. “Challenge accepted.”

Oh boy. This is not what Kaidan had in mind when he vowed to make new Christmas traditions.

“I missed my boys,” she says, taking Sam’s cheeks in both hands. “And I wasn’t going to miss our first Christmas.”

Sam nods, speechless for once when she lets him go.

“Sam went all out,” Kaidan says with a smile. “You should see the meal he’s got planned for tomorrow.”  

She raises an eyebrow.

“Catered,” Sam says swiftly.

She grins. “I can’t wait.”

She goes into the kitchen to dig up two more wine glasses. When she returns, she hands one to each of them and grabs the bottle she’d already opened to fill them.

She picks up her own glass and raises it. “To our new family.”

Sam and Kaidan echo the toast, though Sam’s voice wavers.

They drink. Sam shuffles his feet. Kaidan knows the look on his face. The soldier’s been put away again, but the part of him who believes he has to earn his place – even with his own family – still hasn’t been laid to rest yet.

Kaidan’s working on that.    

“So,” Sam says slowly. “I’m, um. Not sure what happens now. I’m not…good at this.”

Kaidan’s mother loops Sam’s arm around her shoulder and walks him over to the couch, where a pile of blankets wait. “Now we cuddle up in front of the fire and get warm, because it’s freezing outside and someone I know hates being cold.”

A smile creeps across Sam’s face. “It’s not so bad. When you’ve got the right company.”

Outside, the snow keeps falling. Inside, the fire flickers and pops.    

“So is this what it’s like?” Sam murmurs, tugging a blanket across the three of them as they settle on the couch and finding Kaidan’s hand underneath it. As soon as he’s situated, Kaidan’s mother drops a Santa hat on his head.

“Yeah,” Kaidan says, kissing his temple. “This is what it’s like.”

[mirageofthecrystal]

FFxiv 30 Day Writing Challenge - Day 12: Adversary

(I'd like to thank Merriam-Webster's word of the day for gifting me this, because it's just further excuse to piece together all my writing prompts into pieces of a larger backstory puzzle.

I've also never in all my years of writing and roleplaying managed to perfect the art of the fight scene, so apologies if the fighting is a little clumsy.)

adversary (noun)

one's opponent in a contest, conflict, or dispute.

"I don't want to hurt you," Faiolan snarled through gritted teeth. The knights would take no heed of a 'heretic's' words, drawing their blades and surrounding him. He was most assuredly outmatched, but they left him little choice in the matter. He brought his own blade to bear, adjusting the weight of his shield in his man, staring them down and waiting to see who would make the first move. The Inquisitor looked on as his men cornered his quarry, wicked satisfaction plain on his face. "Throw down your weapon and surrender, heretic scum, or it is you who will suffer. We serve the will of Halone, and cannot allow you to prevail." "You serve the will of that cruel bastard and nothing more. I am no more a heretic than he is, but at least I'm not hunting down my fellows like animals."

Swords clashed, Faiolan dancing back a few steps only to find the foe at his back thrusting his blade. His body twisted, bouncing the blow off his shield, with a third knight thrusting his lance downward to pierce Faiolan through the calf. He raised his foot at the final moment, letting the knight find a new mark as he buried the head of his spear in the snow. He stepped down onto the spear, and smashed his shield against the knight's helmet, sending him sprawling onto the ground.

"You would call yourself a knight of Ishgard, but you fight without honor," one of the men barked. "Honor is the easiest way to get yourself killed. When you fight for your life, honor will not intercept your enemy's blows or safeguard your life. To fight with honor is to fight only half a battle..." Faiolan echoed the old wisdom of his former mentor, Sergeant Belmont, who would have loathed to look upon him now. Surely he'd critique Faiolan's form, tell him his footwork was rubbish, and that when fighting multiple foes, one needed to be entirely aware of their surroundings. How in the seven hells was he supposed to watch all of them at once, unless he grew eyes in the back of his head?

The downed knight sought to struggle back up onto his feet, but Faiolan took advantage of this slight break in formation, planting one of his greaves firmly into his foe's head and ringing his bell once more, rendering him unconscious. He was no longer completely surrounded at least, leaving him more room to maneuver. The twang of a bowstring interrupted his internal strategizing, an arrow burying itself into his shoulder, slipping through the rings of his hauberk. He broke the shaft with the downward force of his arm, but each movement caused pain to surge through his shoulder, the arrowhead embedded into his flesh. He'd have to fight through the pain, his eyes now focused on the archer who was already nocking another arrow.

The next shot Faiolan caught in his shield, and he charged the archer, risking the ire of the other knights who sought to intervene. He sidestepped a swipe from a longsword, rebuffed another strike from a mace at the cost of a large dent in his shield and something that felt suspiciously like his bone cracking from the impact, and then caught another arrow, this one in his abdomen. He growled in frustration, forcing his legs to carry him those last few steps towards the archer who immediately backpedaled, lining up another shot. Faiolan swung his blade, cleaving the bow in twain, and knocked the archer back into a tree with a thrust of his shield. The immediate threat of death by arrows being successfully abated, he turned to meet the other two combatants, keeping the archer somewhat in his awareness. Fortunate that he had, for the archer drew a dagger from his belt and came in from the rear while the other two bore down on Faiolan from the front.

"Persistent bastards, I'll give you that..." Faiolan muttered under his breath, at a severe disadvantage for his want to leave his countrymen with their lives despite the fact that they sought to bring him unto his wrongful demise. He would not claim their lives, as that would only embolden the slanderous beliefs of the Inquisitor and the charges he had been levied with. If he had any hope of escaping this, he had to find another way to slip past them. The Inquisitor, meanwhile, grew impatient. He stepped down from his steed, whip in hand as he slowly strolled towards the melee with malicious intent.

Faiolan's arm throbbed, the weight of the shield accompanied by discomfort from his likely fractured bone. He remember another of his mentor's important lessons, the need for improvisation when outnumbered by a superior foe. There was always a way to turn disadvantages into advantages, and sometimes they were extremely unorthodox. Loosening the grip on his shield, he twisted his body and launched it at the mace-wielding knight, who struck it with his weapon and sent it flying right back to sender. Faiolan dove to the side, and the shield struck the archer with full force, causing him to crumple into the snow. Two down, three to go, Faiolan thought to himself as he became aware of the Inquisitor's entrance into the fray.

Faiolan's breath was growing heavy. He was malnourished, sleep deprived, freezing his arse off, and still had to contend with the might of Ishgard's enforcers. Fate seemed to be cruel this day, as it appeared for a moment that all his efforts of escape would be for not. That is, until fate dealt the hand it held, and an outside force intervened. Seemingly from nowhere, as if they emerged from the snow itself, a hail of arrows struck one of the knights dead. The other cried out in a fury and charged toward Faiolan in a mix of confusion and retribution, but a lance caught him in the side, skewering him through and through and pinning him to a tree. Only the Inquisitor was left standing, and he came to his own conclusion about what was unfolding. "And thus do your true colors show. Leading us into an ambush by your heretic accomplices. You FILTH!"

He uncoiled his whip, cracking it into the air and striking out at Faiolan with deadly precision. It coiled around his throat, and with a hard yank brought him to his knees, struggling to breath. "Bringing you back to face trial is foolish, now that the truth is known. I will not allow you to escape the Fury's judgement. If I die this day, then so shall you." Mariuseaux pulled at the length of his whip, dragging Faiolan towards him. A snowstorm began to materialize around them, encasing their struggle in a sheet of impenetrable isolation. Faiolan felt darkness closing in around him, the whip growing tighter and tighter around his throat as he vainly attempted to draw a breath.

The din of combat rang out around them, beyond what could be seen. The rest of the Inquisitor's men, those who had completed their duty at the fort, had come to join him. He had given them specific instructions, as if he'd expected such trickery to catch him off guard. His men now met the heretic forces in combat, leaving him to finish his business with Faiolan once and for all. Seeing the light of life leaving the young man's eyes, the Inquisitor began a prayer. He closed his eyes to invoke the image of Halone in his mind, finding himself bathed in her warmth and her glory. And then Faiolan, who noticed the glint of the archer's dagger sticking out from the snow, took up the small blade, cut the whip, and plunged the dagger into Inquisitor Mariuseaux's throat.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Christmas, Missions, Snowed In, Oh My! {Steve Rogers One-Shot}***

Steve Rogers x Avengers Reader

Warning: Heavy Cursing, Smut, NSFW, Blood

Words: 4.9k

Summary: Everyone on the Avengers and in your circle knows you CANNOT stand Steve Rogers. Steve isn’t losing any sleep over it because he can’t stand you either. Everyone completely understands this and makes sure the two of you are rarely on missions together. Unfortunately, a mission during Christmas leaves only the two of you to handle it. This does not help matters at all!

Note: Next up on Christmas With Lee is this amazing request from @sonjashuterbugjohnson I hope you enjoy this!

***Loosely Edited/proofread***

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“Unfuckinbelievable!”

 Your shout echoed around you, bouncing off the snow-covered trees and the mountains behind you. The anger you felt was indescribable. This was not the way you wanted to spend Christmas. You wanted to be inside, with several bottles of whiskey and a fire, music, and food from your favorite restaurant. You did not want to be here wherever the hell you were with no whiskey, not even an ounce of alcohol, no fire, or music or food at all.

 You’d been walking four hours and still, everything looked the same. All you could see was white snow, snow that was more than three feet high. Snow that was cold, wet and getting into places it should not be. You kicked the snow pile in front of you sending frost and flakes in the air for it blow right back at you in your face.

 Behind you, there was a stifled snort. You felt big enough to take down a polar bear. Turning around there he was with the most annoying smirk on his face. it was a smirk he tried to hide but he did a shit job of it. the wind blew again and knocked you over into the several feet of snow. You sank into it screamed. Instead of getting up you just laid there. Then you heard it again, this time he had the balls to laugh. You’d had it. pulling yourself up you glared at him.

“What the fuck is so funny Steve!?” He raised his hands and shook his head as he approached you with his hand held out offering it to you.

 You couldn’t believe this, you were in this shitstorm, well snowstorm because of him and he had the nerve to laugh and offer you help. You slapped his hands repeatedly then scuffled around the snow nearly drowning yourself in the process. Finally, when you stood up you were covered in snow.

 “That was unnecessary,” Steve retorted with little to no emotion in his voice. Typical, you thought.

 “Unnecessary? You’re unnecessary! Your whole existence is unnecessary! What is the point of you!?” Your anger was bubbling to the top. Everyone knew when you were angry it was not a pretty sight. You had a bad temper.

 “Well, I am Captain America. I was created to be the beacon of hope and goodness in a time where it all was fleeting,” he responded. Your lips rose in a disgusted scowl. You wanted to throw a snowball in his hairy face, then sweep his legs out from under him so he could get another face full of the stuff. Shrieking out you turned your back and continued trekking through the endless snow.

 “You’re ridiculous! This is all your fault!”

 “I’ve apologized Y/N. What more do you want?”

 “You to have been severely disfigured in that crash would have been nice!”

 You heard his huff but ignored it.

 “I mean if you knew you couldn’t have taken over for five minutes why did you say you could? I should have listened to my gut and just put on autopilot. I don’t know why I even allowed you to take over.”

 “Maybe because you don’t allow me to do anything. I’m not your solider, we’re on this team together.”

 A groan escaped you. You hated being on the same team as him. You hated him!

 “I wanted to help.”

 “I didn’t need your help; I could have done it myself. If I had we wouldn’t have crashed in the middle of god knows where in this fucking snowstorm! God, why are you even here!”

 He didn’t respond. It was a good thing. If he would have said anything else you probably would have turned around and decked Captain America in his supposedly perfect super solider face. you continued walking and stewing in your anger. It was enough to keep you warm for now, but you knew you’d be frozen soon, or bleed out.

 Another hour or two passed with you walking aimlessly. You used the device that mapped the terrain before you and calculated which route was best and most plausible to take you to civilization. You were almost sure it had been damaged in the crash but right now it was the only thing you had.

 “Y/N.”

 Ignoring him you continued forward.

 “Y/N.”

 Rolling your eyes, you focused on the device in your hands.

 “Y/N! Stop now!”

 Oh, hell no, you thought as you reared around with the only bitch look.

 “Who the fuck do you think—”

 “Shut up. Look!” You looked down but saw nothing. You lifted your foot and saw the clear sheen of ice.

 “Shit.”

 “Exactly. I can hear the rush of the water. Come,” Steve ordered.

 Your defiance was in prime form right now, but you also had common sense. Slowly you walked back toward him but on your third step, you heard the loud crack which forced you to pause. Steve’s eyes were wide as he scanned around you. After a few moments, his eyes returned to yours.

 “It’s going to break. From the sound of the water I’m guessing, for the most part, it’s not controlled by a current, but you will drift.”

 “Fuck, fuck, fuck! This is your fucking fault!”

 As soon as the words left your mouth the ice underneath you broke, and you plummeted into the below freezing water. Thankfully you’d been able to catch a mouthful of air before your fall. You tried to grab onto anything you could but there was nothing but water around you and ice above.

 You reached your hands up hoping to break through the ice, but it was solid above you. you began to panic sensing your imminent death. You had maybe a minute of breath left. Your limbs began cramping up from the coldness of the water, your movements and attempts to push through the water to counteract the chaos was futile. Just as you were beginning to blackout a pair of strong arms yanked you up out of the water and onto your back. You coughed trying to rid your lungs of water and take in air at the same time.

 “You’re okay. I got you.”

 Your choughs continued until your chest hurt and throat burned. When they quieted and you got some semblance of calm in your body you realized you were lying back between his legs with him behind you. Rolling from him to a nearby tree you leaned against it and glared at him.

 “It’s my fault, I know.”

 “Damn right it is!” He nodded, stood and approached you with his damn hand held out again.

 “Take it.”

 Before you even thought about it you heard a growl and saw a wolf pounce onto Steve taking him to the ground. You sat there completely dazed as to what was happening. Steve groaned and rolled around with the wild wolf wrestling it in the snow. For a few moments, you lost them in the mountains of snow. Slowly you stood. Most of you was frozen.

 “Stay—back!”

 Steve grunted and shouted loudly. His shout echoed around you. It was so loud some of the snow fell from the treetops to the ground around you. The growling was so loud you were almost certain Steve was a goner. After a few seconds, you heard a yelp, then a loud snap and then silence as the growls stopped. All was quiet and still; you didn’t know what to expect. Steve crashed through the snow with blood on him. His blonde hair was a mess and he was panting. He looked like he’d fought a wild wolf and won. For a second you forgot your hatred for him and just marveled at him standing there like a triumphant Olympian. You didn’t recognize the feeling in the pit of your stomach, so you ignored it which allowed your anger to return.

 “This is your fucking fault!”

 “Jesus Christ Y/N!” His shout was loud, and you could have sworn you saw anger behind his steely eyes.

 “Let’s keep moving, where there is one wolf the pack is close by.” He walked to you his intent clear to help. You pushed off the tree and walked ahead before he got a chance to get too close.

 Another hour passed and your movements were tortuously slow, as was the ache by your torso. You’d refused Steve’s last twenty suggestions to walk with him so he could help keep you warm. You refused to let him touch you, refused to go anywhere near him. Part of you knew it was stupidity, survival skills said hate and anger would get you killed, emotion was the enemy in life or death situations. You were clinging hard to your hate and anger.

 It was the reason why you collapsed into the snow before you. Steve was beside you in seconds.

 “You’re so stubborn!” Without explanation, he began lifting you into his arms.

 “Let me go. I can—walk.”

 “You can’t even stand.” He attempted to lift you again, you groaned out in pain. He caught it and scanned you.

 “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” He began checking your body for injuries beginning at your head, then arms, skipping your torso to look at your legs. When he didn’t see anything, he unzipped your suit then saw the bloodstain soaked into your undershirt.

 “Y/N.” His voice was soft but filled with worry. Steve put his fingers to your pulse point and waited a few moments.

 “You’ve been bleeding out this entire time!”

 He zipped you back up, stood and pulled you into his arms. Then he took off running through the snow. You felt the first few meters but after a few minutes, you stopped feeling the jerk of your body in his arms. The heat of his body wrapped around you began penetrating through your suit. Being a serum enhanced super solider really had its perks.

 “Stay awake, Y/N. Stay awake.”

 His voice sounded far away but you heard it. Soon you heard the breaking of wood and the sounds of footsteps on wood. He was still speaking but you didn’t hear anything he said. You felt taps on your cheek and your eyes fluttered open. He was blurry but he was there.

 “Stay with me. Don’t give up on me. You hear me!”

 As you drifted in and out of consciousness small details registered. The smell of alcohol, the sound of wood breaking or being ripped apart, the warm glow of fire dancing across a ceiling, the softness of something that felt like an animal, a hard piece of wood being put into your mouth then excruciating pain that went on for far too long. Every time you came to the pain was still present, so you passed out again. This process felt endless and you had no idea how long it went on for.

 “Don’t leave me. Stay here beautiful. Stay and bother me.” The voice was echoed, slurred even but it was the last thing you heard.

 When you opened your eyes the tightness and pain in your abdomen had you groaning loudly. 

“Fuck me!” The scuffle of feet echoed around you then there he was. Steve Fucking Rogers. He looked different, a lot more rugged, and worried.

 “Y/N.” His face focused and you groaned again.

 “Oh my god. What happened?” You tried to sit up, but Steve stopped you.

 “Stay down. You’re going to pop the stitches.” Your eyes bugged and you really tried to sit up then. Sensing you were not going to stop Steve helped bring you to a slouched position. You looked back realizing you were leaned against a wooden headboard. For the first time, you realized you were in some sort of cabin.

 “Where the hell are we?”

 “Some cabin. After you collapsed about forty minutes later I found it. I was able to get a fire started, melted some snow for water, found a pretty archaic first aid kit and coupled it with the basic one in the suit and stitched you up. You’ve lost a lot of blood. I wasn’t sure you’d make it. I had to give you a transfusion.”

 Again, your eyes bugged. “A transfusion?”

 He looked sheepish. “You’d lost too much blood Y/N. I had to give you some of mine.”

 You looked to your arm and saw the makeshift transfusion needle and cord, but it was no longer hooked to him. a slew of things ran through your mind, but you couldn’t speak any of them. You were in shock. You knew it.

 Fifteen minutes passed without a word. You remained still looking around, taking in everything you saw. The mess of medical supplies, the firewood, the top of Steve’s suit on the floor, plenty of bloodied clothes and bandages, the fur on the bed that you were laying in and your clothes on the floor. When you realized that you looked over your body. Your top half was bare, as was your bottom half.

 “What the actual fuck Steve!” His eyes snapped back to yours then he stood and held his hands high in surrender. He knew what you’d just noticed.

 “Why am I naked!?”

 “I didn’t look. I had to get you out the wet clothes, you were hypothermic. I had to get you warm and get to the wound. I swear I didn’t see anything.” You hugged the fur blanket to your body as you glared at him. The annoying thing was that you believed him. He was that self-righteous, that good and pure that he wouldn’t dare sneak a peak or cop a feel while you were unconscious and incapacitated. It made you want to vomit then kick him in the balls.

 “I would never dare compromise you like that Y/N.” You closed your eyes and shivered.

 “You’re still hypothermic.” He approached and you gave him an evil look.

 “Stay away from me. This is all your fucking fault. It’s your fault we’re even here!”

 “For fuck’s sake Y/N. I know, I know, I know! I know it’s my fucking fault. I know I should have spoken up and said I couldn’t take over. Kill me for wanting to impress you, show you that I am not some incompetent fool or whatever you think of me to make you hate me so much. I’ve taken every horrible thing you’ve said to me for hours, years, I’ve taken it, gritted, bared it, I listened to your complaining this entire time, I withstood your stubbornness. I ignored all of it but fuck Y/N!”

 You were shocked. Not only had he just expressed some sort of emotion that wasn’t chivalry, or politeness but he’d cussed. Steve “watch your language” Rogers just cursed, three times. As you looked at him you were filled with something strange. You couldn’t put your finger on what it was but again the pit of your belly responded. He looked angry, what more he looked emotional and flustered.

 “What more do I have to do? I’m trying to save your life!”

 You held your head high refusing to fall for it, refusing to feel bad for him. Rolling your eyes, you turned your back to him and laid down while breathing through the pain you felt. You gritted your teeth as your body shook with the deep chill you still felt. You would not cave. You lost consciousness again.

 When you opened your eyes again the cabin was still glowing warm with the fire. You could hear the crackling of the wood as it burned and smelled the smoke it gave off, it smelled like pine and it gave the cabin a Christmas like scent. You also noticed the hard body that was behind you. It made you stiffen. Slowly you turned and saw Steve behind you with his arms wrapped around you. The heat from his body was delicious and with the fire, it worked to take all the cold from you. You could feel your feet and other body parts. As you were going to pull away you stopped. His smell took over. He smelled like the pine of the wood, but also like whiskey and the outdoors. It wasn’t a bad scent; in fact, the smell made your belly flutter.

 Slowly you turned to face him. he was asleep. He looked peaceful as if he hadn’t slept in days and now that he was, he had no cares. You could tell he was still clothed which spoke volumes. He was still being the perfect gentleman. you trailed your eyes over his face then looked away when you felt your edge fading. Rolling back to your back you took several breaths. The stitch job on your abdomen was still tight, every move you made almost made you blackout. You could feel your strength returning though which made you feel so relief.

 “Why do you hate me so much?”

 “You’re just a hatable guy.”

 He didn’t respond but you heard the sharp intake of breath. Closing your eyes, you shook your head.

 “In the real world people cuss, they throw tantrums, they have uncontrollable rage, they get shit-faced drunk, they lose control and have premarital sex sometimes with more than one person at a time, they are not perfect, they are not little robotic super soldiers. You live in this completely unrealistic world in your head. In the five years I’ve known you I’ve never seen you throw a tantrum, never seen any uncontrolled rage, or even seen you get shit-faced drunk, I’ve never seen you lose control or god forbid have premarital sex. I have only seen this perfect, self-righteous, polite, happy to serve, whatever it takes, I can do this all day, put my life on the line guy. Until this trip, I’d never even heard you curse.”

 “Some would call that being the best of humanity,” Steve filled in. you scoffed.

 “I would call it pure and utter bullshit. You are not real Steve. You are—a test tube. It is impossible to work with you or live up to you because you’re a false ideal made in a lab. Would it kill you to say shit once in a while? Get so fuming angry that you punch a hole in a wall, and not just knock a punching bag off its hook? What about have a drink, of four, have a hangover, or try for one even if you can’t get drunk because of that medical cocktail in your veins that is now in my veins? Would it be so bad to not be so perfect, show some humanity or even god forbid fuck someone? Jesus just fuck up!”

 You were not standing and close to the fireplace holding on to things to not topple over. He was still in the bed. He looked as if he were thinking, looked as if he didn’t know what to say.

 “So, you’re saying you want me to fuck up and hate me because I’m not reckless, or irrational, or emotional?”

 “Do you feel emotions, Steve? No one knows. Bucky was missing, your best friend it didn’t look like it phased you except as a nuisance. You woke up after a hundred years, everyone you knew was dead or dying, you didn’t react, you just suit up and went fighting again. Do you feel anything?”

 He was up with the quickness and walking to you. backed to the fireplace not thinking about the fire there. Steve pulled you to him. “Do I feel Y/N? You’re kidding me, right? Of course, I feel. I feel everything, I’ve always felt everything, but I do not have the luxury of throwing tantrums of refusing to help save the world because guess what, that is what I was made for.”

 “Fuck what you’re made for. Be human. Have a human emotion, do a human action. You’re over a hundred years old and you’re just some glorified lapdog of SHEILD and the government that fucked you over!”

 Before the words were out his lips crashed to yours. You were stunned and unable to move as his lips moved across yours. It didn’t take long for your body to react to him and kiss him right back. Through your anger and annoyance, something else shined through, something else that Steve soaked up. You felt his tongue delve into your mouth and you moaned. Steve’s arm wrapped around you pulling your closer holding you right where your tailbone ended.

 Neither of you slowed or paused the kiss continued and became even more frenzied. The hand that was holding the fur blanket to your body moved allowing it to fall to the floor. You dug your hands into his hair groaning when you felt the pain the stretching produced. Steve was there to hold you up. You lifted your leg against him, and his free hand gripped up and lifted it and you higher into his arms. You wrapped your legs around him and kissed him more passionately. Steve moaned and turned back toward the bed. Once there he laid you onto the mattress and hovered over your body. He broke the kiss and kissed your neck then your shoulder and back to your neck to suck your flesh into his mouth.

 You moaned and slightly arched, not enough to cause yourself pain though. Steve went lower to your breasts then ran the flat of his tongue across an already pert nipple. You moaned and hugged his head to your body. It didn’t take you long to get lost in the pleasure he gave with his mouth. He went lower over your stomach carefully avoiding the fresh wound there. When he got to your pelvis he placed soft kisses along your skin as he spread your legs. The first feel of his lips between your legs had you gasping loudly in the tiny cabin.

 “Oh my god.”

 Steve kissed, licked, and sucked your sensitive bud as he set a dizzying pattern. It was a pattern that your body could never get used to, a pattern that kept you guessing, a pattern that made goosebumps prick your skin. When your hands rested at the top of his head Steve moaned on your sex and slurped onto you. The new sensation made you whimper and drop your thighs back to meet the bed. Again, Steve moaned on you which set you off even more. It felt so good. You didn’t know how much stress you’d been under the last few years let alone since the crash. Steve was at the root of it all, right now he was at the root of your pleasure.

 Steve sucked your clit into his mouth, and it was the straw the broke the dam on your desire. Suddenly an orgasm tore through your body sending your thighs clamping around his head holding him in place. Steve moaned and sucked more forcefully. Your high-pitched moans echoed in the cabin. When Steve pried your thighs apart he looked up at you and traveled back up your body with kisses. When he made it back to you, you claimed his lips in a searing kiss and moaned when his tongue fought for dominance over yours. You lifted the shirt he wore and pulled it off then trailed your hands down his smooth skin.

 The man was like a baby’s ass, smooth and soft. You sat up and kissed his neck and down his chest across each perfect pectoral muscle and down each and every single one of his abs. He was the perfect male specimen. He was made with perfection in mind. Steve stood at the foot of the bed giving you complete access to his body. You pulled the rest of his suit down his body until his manhood flopped free. You almost gasped. He was packing and you shouldn’t have been surprised. Wasn’t it a side effect of the serum, didn’t it make everything bigger? You bit your bottom lip as you admired his length. Steve didn’t move a muscle. Closing your mouth around his need. Steve groaned every inch you slipped into your mouth he shivered. When he was mostly into your mouth he groaned loudly and gripped the top of your head.

 “Mmmm.” Pulling your head back you slowly brought your lips to the tip of his cock then sucked on it.

 “Shit!” You smiled on him and dipped your mouth lower taking him in again. This time you were able to accept his full-length something you could tell brought him deep pleasure from the way he held your head onto his hardness.

 “Mmmm, Y/N!”

 Getting tired of the slow pace you sped up and fully enjoyed every moan, shiver, groan, grunt and whimper you drew from him. after less than five minutes Steve was thrusting himself into your mouth and down your throat. Every connection with the walls of your throat had him fist your hair until he pulled back from you letting his spit slick need bob between you. Steve kissed you again, but you pushed him to his back then climbed on top of him. When you rose onto your knees you locked eyes with him. He looked vulnerable and drunk off of desire and need. You’d never seen him like this before and you really liked it. this was not the Steve you’d known all these years. As you slowly slid onto his need his mouth dropped open, his head arched back, and his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

 “Fuck! It was a loud shout, it vibrated off the walls and you heard some of the snow fall outside. It turned you on immensely, so much that you intend to slowly guide him into your body, but you were now unable to go slow. As his wide girth stretched you his superior length filled you. soon you were rotating your hips on him and groaning every time his cock nudged your g-spot.

 “Mmm, fuck!” Your pants did not stop or slow down and when your hips picked up the pace to bouncing on his need, Steve’s hands were there to squeeze onto your hips. The force of it made you groan. Steve suddenly pumped his hips up into you sending a new set of pleasure waves.

 “Steve, yes!” Once the words escaped you were on your back with Steve taking control to snap his hip forward. His repetitive actions built a steady friction that you knew would bubble over any minute.

 “Shit, yes, yes, yes, right there Rogers. Right fucking there!”

 “Mmmm Y/N, you feel so good. So good!” The pitch in his voice was high. Forgetting the wound on your abdomen you pulled him to you and kissed him. His body collided with yours knocking the wind out of you, but you didn’t care, with he was doing to you felt too good.

 Steve went to your ear and kissed it. “Of course, I feel Y/N, I feel what you’re doing to me right now, what you’ve always done to me. Do you feel this?” He slammed his hips forward feeding you all of him. You grunted and clenched around him which made him grunt as well.

 “Fuck!” You smiled again and nodded, you couldn’t lie, you felt everything right now.

 “Mmm, fuck yes, yes,” was all you could muster, you felt your release building.

 “You make me want to lose control which makes me hold on harder to it. You bring out these human emotions I’ve buried for those hundred years.” Steve’s thrusts were getting sloppy and you knew he was close. He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. The sweat rolling down his body made him look like a God and it turned you on even more.

 “Fuck Steve yes, make me come, I’m gonna come!”

 Your moans merged together creating a symphony of their own. You dug your nails into his back when you felt your release wash over you like a wave of fire. You shrieked out and clenched around him. Steve grunted and groaned and bucked his hips as he released everything he had. 

 “Fuuuuck!” Steve collapsed next to you and the two of you panted.

“Oh my god, that was incredible—you were incredible,” Steve rambled. You smirked, pinched your lips and looked at him.

 “You’re not so bad yourself Cap, once you let go.”

 There were three knocks, the two of you stilled.

 “Eh-em, Cap, Y/N—um, rescue is here.”

 “Do you still need that rescue? From the sounds coming from in there sounds like you’re good,” Tony chided.

 Your eyes were closed. This was never going to be forgotten. You would be teased about your hot hate fuck with Captain America in some abandoned cabin forever.

 “Y/N is injured. She needs real medicine,” he announced.

 “Ready when you are. By the way congrats on your first time,” Tony added. Your head snapped to Steve.

 “This is your—I was your—. You looked away and tried not to focus on any of it.

 Ten minutes later you were dressed and hobbling to the quinjet with Steve following close behind with a hand at your back. Once aboard Nat and Wanda helped you to a seat where Vision was waiting to assess you. Once you laid back and Vision took a look at your wound Steve approached.

 “How’s she doing?”

 “Pretty good form you have here Cap,” Vision said.

 “Thanks, it was hard as shit to do. I was sure I fucked it up.”

 All eyes swarmed to him in pure shock. You just smiled.

 “Language!” They all shouted in unison.

 He smiled and looked to you before he winked. 

“Ho, Ho, Ho, Merry Christmas Y/N.” You felt all heated and flustered. You had no idea what you’d just pulled out of Pandora’s Box.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TagList:

@chaneajoyyy @firedolphin04 @sonjashuterbugjohnson @caramara3 @vannahvannahhh @academic-glowup @lorainnebabyy @patzammit @yourwonderbelle  @pennywisesmistress @theblulife @kelbabyblue @bugngiz @disneysdarlingdiva @toniilaney @areubeingserved @thinkxlovexloud @cocothewriter @periodtcevans @southerngracela @bellaamor88 @mack-jay @titty-teetee @pananegra @wellthirsted @sup3rn0va13 @nova3312 @hello-therree @valkyriesnymph @squeackygee @ab-baybay @niyashell @allmonstersxarehuman @zsuzstyina @peggy-potts @amelatonin @lvlyab @sullyosully @renesmeeharelds @capslut2014 @ilovehatembj @thelittlemoistcarrot @sarcastic-sunshines  @a-dizzle777 @taylorveebee   @thatcrazymarvelfan @oceanscorazon @90sinspiredgirl @missyperle @mizcaptainwidow @angrybirdcr @chrisgalore @cherrystainedlipsbaby @marvelfansworld @blowmymbackout @almostpurelysmut @impossiblegiantrebelbasketball @choices97 @momobaby227  @phreshouttherunwaaayy @rynabarnesrogers @heladoom @alyxkbrl @evemej  @quitepointless @kaetastic  @cltex84  @wildmindedbeauty32  @peach-acid @queennanayaa @useless-mork @noramushroom  @coldmuffinbanditshoe @asguardianslut @killmongersbaby @laketaj24 @flawlessglamazon @thatrandomhetaliachick @missdeerstalker15

[secretradiobrooklyn]

Get In Moses Edition | 2.13.21

Secret Radio | 2.13.21 | Hear it here.

art by Paige, liner notes mostly by Evan, *means Paige

1. Chantal Goya - “Tu m’as trop menti”

From the movie “Masculin feminin,” a DVD we borrowed from Tim. This is the film where Godard was whispering the lines into a headset of the actor, so they were learning their lines literally as they were saying them. This is the opening song. Not particularly Valentine’s Day, in that it’s about lying too much… but still there’s a dissatisfaction that is undeniably a part of French romance.

2. Human League - “(Keep Feeling) Fascination”

Such a square song! But the keys hook is so immortally beautiful, with its crucial warble. The rest of the song is sweetly and innocently ‘80s. It reminds me of being in art class in high school, fully participating in the aesthetic crimes of the era. 

3. Marijata - “Break Through” - “Afro-Beat Airways”

Analog Africa is just now releasing a repress of this long sold-out collection. I’d listened to it before, but I guess that was before I knew about Marijata (thanks again, Jeffrey!) because it was a shock to discover a track by one of our very favorite Ghanaian discoveries. So far as I knew, Marijata only released one album of four songs — which is fantastic — and then eventually started backing a guy named Pat Thomas. Those records, unfortunately, are nowhere near as vital and fascinating as their own record. So finding this song was a welcome revelation! I should also say that, no surprise, the whole collection is a banger from front to back, and will definitely show up again on the show.

4. Philippe Katerine (avec Gérard Depardieu) - “Blond”

This strange guy is a kind of joker songwriter in French pop, as far as I can tell. This song is all about what one can get away with if one is blond. He’s a really fascinating character, a tiny bit like Beck maybe, in the sense that he seems to have made a successful career of taking unexpected directions. He’s also an actor, working with Claire Denis (!), Jonathan Demme and Gille Lellouche among many others. He was also in “Gainsbourg - A Heroic Life,” which is an excellent movie that we highly recommend. (We had no idea who he was when we saw it at the St. Louis Film Festival.) Also, he appears to be married to Gérard Depardieu’s daughter, which would seem to explain this particular guest star.

- The Texas Room - “Cielito Lindo” 

Several years ago, a producer in St. Louis put together the amazing album known as “The Texas Room,” which brought together immigrants from all over the world who currently lived in St. Louis. That meant Bosnians, Cameroonians, Mexicans, and native-born Americans… including Andy Garces, a fellow Paige went to high school with — His mom was Paige’s voice teacher as a matter of fact — who recorded this strange and excellent version of “Cielito Lindo.” The release party for the album was one of the greatest nights we spent in that or any city, dancing our faces off to all kinds of music. At one point the Bosnians got so excited they took over the room, shouting along and hoisting up their guy in the air. Basil Kincaid did the art for the album, and I think that’s the night we finally met. We have one of his collages on our studio wall right now — right over there!

5. The Modern Lovers - “I’m Straight” *

When we got the current SK van (circa 2015) we were super excited because we could finally bring out other musicians on the road and we could also have folks from other bands that we were out with jump in the van with us for a stretch. That February we were on tour with Jamaican Queens, and our friend Andy Kahn came out with us to play guitar. Not only is Andy a rad musician and great guy to be around, but he was an excellent road DJ. Somehow I made it to 30 without getting into The Modern Lovers (I know, crazy!) Andy has great taste and had a well appointed iPod so he was the official van DJ pretty much right away. He put on this record one day and I just lost it. The thing is, after that I was like “Play ‘Roadrunner’ again!” all the time. When I hear this record I still think of that tour. Andy in the back seat DJing, Ben and Erik jumping in the van to come with to Baltimore, graduating to “truck” in the Holland Tunnel queue, so much snow, host Bentley, “Go cats?”, Aaaaaahhhhh!

6. Frances Carroll & the Coquettes - “Coquette / When I Swing My Stick / Jitterbug Stomp”

I think we learned about this band last year, when Coquettes drummer Viola Smith died at 107 years old (in Costa Mesa, not Silverlake, Paige would like you to know — her bad). The video link below is highly recommended — the whole band swings hard, and the interaction between them and Frances Carroll is well worth the watch. They were considered a curiosity at the time, being an all-female band, and man they could play. Viola Smith in particular had an insanely long career, playing from the 1920s straight through into 2019! She played with Ella Fitzgerald and Chick Webb, and in the original Broadway production of “Cabaret.” Her particular innovation was having two toms at shoulder height, on either side of her head, which she would roll and ricochet shots off. Very cool style, never copied.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pFDD_NxtKZ4

7. Pierre Sandwidi - “Boy Cuisinier”

Born Bad Records is one of the world’s coolest record labels, with a huge array of vintage discoveries as well as African albums as well as contemporary pop and noise bands. “Boy Cuisinier” is off Pierre Sandwidi’s album with them. It bears some definite relation to Francis Bebey but takes its own turns just as often. Sandwidi hails from Burkina Faso, known as the Upper Volta when he was growing up. We’re just now learning about him and his scene — I confess I didn’t even know Upper Volta was African; I thought it was Slavic — so I wouldn’t be surprised if some more Voltaic music shows up here soon.

8. Evan Sult avec Tracy Brubeck  - “The Cats Won’t Stay In”

Paige’s mom Tracy called while we were in the middle of the show, and they paused to have a conversation about, you know, whatever — the snowstorms, the neighbors, the news. She was on speakerphone so that we could all talk, and eventually I just started taking notes as fast as I could. This is the result. I find it fascinating. That’s Paige singing lead on the Marty Robbins tune.

9.  Kil Monnower Alimunna, Grup Hindustanbul - “Tadap Tadap” 

Years ago I saw the movie “Monsoon Wedding” by the director Mira Nair. It really stuck with me, particularly the gorgeous opening credits in maroon and orange and sky blue. I was trying to tell Paige about that sequence, so just in case we could catch a glimpse of those colors, we watched the trailer. This song is the soundtrack to the trailer. It’s really an amazing track — so Indian, of course, but with definite Western points of contact, like when it goes to the major chords unexpectedly in the post-chorus, which sounds practically American. And the final outro minute or so is full of delayed, reverbed vocals in a psychedelic style, til it reaches the strange and intoxicating sound that he makes with his voice as the song fades into the distance.

- Martial Solal “New York Herald Tribune” - “A bout de souffle” soundtrack 

10. Gillian Hills - “Tut Tut Tut Tut” 

Gillian Hills, probably more famous for “Zou Bisou Bisou.” This track is great, listen for those syrupy slides and harmonies. I just learned that she is English, and the music video for this song is definitely shot in Angleterre. Full of famous red phone booths (now famous little free libraries.) When we were doing this week’s show I asked Evan “Is this song too obvious?” He said no, it wasn’t too obvious. If you know why I’m asking, then you know. So is it? 

11. Jacques Dutronc “La Compapade”

We’ve been into Jacques Dutronc for many years now, because he’s a brilliant French songwriter and composer. But this one track has been a baffler for many years now. It shows up out of nowhere and sounds like… what? What the hell IS that? Is it African? It sounds African, but — is it? Is it just some strange lark on his part? Paige was apprehensive about playing it on the show, even though we both really enjoy it, because we couldn’t tell if it was somehow demeaning to someone. But eventually I argued that we don’t know what the hell most of the singers are saying in the songs we play, or which cultural taboos they’re transgressing, and the same is true in this case. If it is somehow offensive to anyone, I hope it’s clear that wasn’t our intention. But… I don’t know. I don’t think it is. I think it just comes from a cultural heritage and context that is French in a way Americans cannot understand or appreciate. In any case, it’s an amazing performance and recording!

12. K. Frimpong & His Cubanos Fiestas - Me Da A Ɔnnda”

Research into African rock and styles eventually brought us to K. Frimpong and His Cubanos Fiestas, which has turned out to be a satisfying step into the Ghanaian highlife/Cuban scene. I love the keyboard hooks in this one and the way the patterns just roll on and on with each other like a river, in no hurry but pulled forward by their own currents. He was also a visual artist — his art appeared on the cover of last episode’s Nyame Bekyere album. This was also the first time I’ve encountered the character “Ɔ” in the wild. I have zero idea how it is pronounced.

13. They Might Be Giants - “Birdhouse In Your Soul” 

“Not to put too fine a point on it / Say I’m the only bee on your bonnet / Make a little birdhouse in your soul.” I remember when I first realized that was a feeling I was feeling — hoping to build a birdhouse in the soul of another, to be inside one another in a little protected place. The rest of the song is a nerd-rock dream palace I love as much as any other nerd, but the chorus is where I discovered an emotion I hadn’t suspected was there when I first heard and fell for this song and this band in high school (thanks, Jeremy Peterson!). 

Paige adds: This song is blowing my mind. I don’t like writing lyrics, my ratio of melodies and harmonies to lyrics way out of whack. Evan brought this song back into our lives this week when Sleepy Kitty was asked what our favorite love songs are on a real radio show. We’ve been listening to it a bunch since Thursday and damn, these lyrics are good. It’s really reminding me that you can write about ANY.THING. Blue Canary in the freakin’ outlet by the light switch. Looking at the lighthouse picture. It’s a clinic. I learned something, and I can go home. 

On the original topic, I love thinking of this as a love song. If you hear a love song, it’s a love song. It’s a love song.

14. Sleepy Kitty - “Tu veux ou tu veux pas” *

I took two years of French in high school and missed out junior and senior year because of a scheduling lulu that made 3rd and 4th year French conflict with advanced painting which was the primary reason I was taking French in the first place. I’m still not over it. Years later, I’m at Electropolis (in my memory) and I hear this Brigitte Bardot song on Tim’s excellent sound system and I can understand…most?…some…of it! I fell in love with this song and with French again and started stumbling, scrabbling at it again. We started working up this cover. Thank you Suzie Gilb for helping with the pronunciation. We did a 7” of this song and it’s a rare SK track with me playing trombone on it. 

15. The Velvet Underground - “I Love You” *

I don’t really have much to say about this track except that it reminds me of flying to Germany because I got the 5 Disc set with all the extras on it a few days before leaving for a high school foreign exchange program. I was so happy to have those discs to absorb on the long flight, and come to think of it, it really inflected the whole trip.

16. Secret Song - “African Scream Contest”

The genesis of our love for African rock/funk/whatever (if for a moment we don’t count the profoundly influential “Graceland”) is the immortal collection “Legends of Benin,” put out by Analog Africa. As soon as we dug further for our favorites from that collection, we found “African Scream Contest” vols 1 and 2. I was drawn to the second one because it had a killer track by our hero Antoine Dougbé, but eventually spent as much time with the first volume. Both are absolutely fantastic. Part of what I love so much about them is learning how much of an impact James Brown and his band had on African music, which is super apparent throughout these collections and especially this track. The drums and the grunts and the hard stops and the horn blasts — it’s all there. 

One of the finest elements of these records is the hidden track at the end, tucked five or so minutes back from the last song. These are often some of the hottest tracks on the album, well worth the wait, and this mystery song is no exception. Unfortunately, though, that means we don’t know who made this track or what it’s called. Oh well — that only makes it cooler!

- Adrian from Brooklyn

17. The Beatles - “Dizzy Miss Lizzy”

We watched “The Beatles: Eight Days a Week” recently (totally worth a watch), and we were struck all over again by how insane their lives must have been at that time. Yes fame, yes sudden fortune, yes global supremacy, yes yes yes — the thing that I can’t get over is the shrieking, and how it wasn’t just present at their shows, it was EVERYWHERE THEY WENT, AT ALL TIMES ON ALL DAYS, EVERY SECOND THEY WERE OUTSIDE. How completely unsettling that must have been, to be the center of that howl, day after day, year after year. 

18. The Fall - “Sing! Harpy”

Dedicated to Adrian from Brooklyn and all those young women and men losing their minds over the Beatles so completely that all they could do was shriek, even at shows where the crowd’s sound completely obliterated the sound of the band they so desperately loved and came to hear. 

(This is also some of my favorite violin playing in any rock music, right up there with “Boys Keep Swinging” and The Ex’s “State of Shock.” I would LOVE to work with a violinist in this mode.)

19. T.P. Orchestre Poly-Rythmo - “Gnon a Gnon Wa”

So intense! That constant chord strike throughout the song is a kind of high-note drone that we find ourselves drawn to. It kind of reminds me of the sound of a casino, where you walk in and all of the machines are chiming the same note, promising to just take your mind away and keep it safe until you need it again.

- Tommy Guerrero - “El Camino Negro” - “Road to Nowhere”

20. Black Dragons de Porto Novo - “Se Djro” What a slinky number! I love how spare the instrumentation is, but how much power is contained in that one guitar part. This is side A of a 7” put out on Albarika Store, the label that T.P. Orchestre called home for many albums. 

21. Helen Nkume and Her Young Timers - “Time” This is (so far) the closest we’ve gotten to reggae on WBFF. I know nothing about the band or the music other than their fantastic name and sound — oh, and the fact that she is known elsewhere as Prophetess Helen Nkume. She appears to be Nigerian, or anyway her record label is. I love the guitar hook on this song, it just sneaks in and steals the show.

22. Anne Sylvestre - “Les Gens Qui Doutent”

23. Parvati Khan - “Jimmi Jimmi Jimmi Aaja Aaja Aaja Re Mere” A lucky find! Someone in one of my Facebook groups posted a video from this album, so I took note and returned later to check it out. This is from an Indian movie called “I’m a Disco Dancer” that looks like a real kooky thrill. The actors appear to have only the vaguest sense of what “disco” might be — or what a guitar might be, for that matter. It kind of looks like someone saw a single photo of a disco night and extrapolated a whole movie from it. Nonetheless, Parvati Khan is entrancing in the song and in the video, and we HAVE to see this movie, with or without subtitles. The smoldering look alone really requires investigation:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZUdJQSUcK_Y

24. Nancy Sit - “Love Potion #9” * One thing I’ve always known about Evan is that he doesn’t like the song  “Love Potion #9.” When we stumbled across this, I thought it was awesome but I didn’t want to make Evan listen to a song he doesn’t like on Valentine’s Day! Evan says this song has little to do with “Love Potion #9” which makes me wonder, Evan, what’s the part you don’t like about “Love Potion #9”?

Evan adds: I honestly can’t remember what my issue with this song was. I swear, it was like… it was around the time of “Melt With You,” which I also found inexplicably irritating (and still do). I suspect now that there was an inept cover version that first steered me wrong… but luckily there’s a strange Chinese version to steer me right again! Oh life.

- Michel Legrand - “Solange’s Song (Instrumental)” - “The Young Ladies of Rocheforte”

25. The Velvet Underground - “I’ll Be Your Mirror” * This is the song that I said was the best love song of the western world on the real radio. I think it’s so beautiful and so adult. I don’t even know if I would have thought of this as love song a few years ago. When first got into the V.U. I thought it was a pretty song – a neat song, but I didn’t really know what it meant, what it could mean. What’s funny is when I think of this song, I have a Lou Reed version in my head – his voice, the harmonies. When I revisited the Max’s Kansas City live version (which as far as I know is the only one besides other more recent live versions and surely what I’m thinking of?) I realized that the version in my head is essentially that one but cleaned up, remastered, different EQ, and as far as I know entirely imagined.

Evan adds: (Paige has been playing this song recently around the apartment. I don’t even have to tell you how lovely it is.)

*p.s. If you want to hear the piece about musicians talking about favorite love songs on KWMU it’s here: https://news.stlpublicradio.org/show/st-louis-on-the-air/2021-02-11/listen-love-songs-to-keep-you-warm-on-cold-winter-nights

Super fun getting to talk about this stuff and in such good company!

[monchikyun]

28. in the light of day

It’s been snowing a great deal lately, the weather has prepared a very cruel gift in the form of endless northern winds and icy pavements that have the potential of ruining someone’s day. And the someone has to be none other than Gavin, because the universe recognises that he deserves it the most. The days in December are shorter than his attention span, and the darkness that surrounds him when he’s returning from work is subconsciously making him quicken his pace. There is plenty on his mind, things that he wishes he never did and the little miracles he wishes went of forever, and perhaps that’s why his feet don’t get the most attention and when he steps on a particularly slippy block of ice that once was a muddy puddle, nothing stops him from falling straight on his backside. It hurts like bitch, so much so his eyes water and he’s overwhelmed by dizziness. But it also might be that cold that he’s already waiting to shake by doing absolutely nothing in order for that to happen. He lugs his heavy body up and is immediately greeted by a coughing fit suggesting that he should really not be outside in this condition, especially so when the low temperature is unforgiving enough to freeze rivers.

“Phck.” He tries to curse his affliction away, but like every time he does so, it only manages to piss him off even more.

Gavin is already angry as is, even more so than he’s by default. It’s all his fault, he begrudgingly admits, because doing otherwise would imply that him shouting at Connor is someone else’s responsibility. He was doing okay for such a long time, tried his absolute best to make the android like him, and not only because he wanted to get rid of the guilt that has been gnawing on his mind since the end of the revolution, but because he let himself catch feelings for the ridiculously beautiful robot. It worked, at first, they were getting along pretty well, despite Gavin being his ever-so-charming self. It was probably thanks to his heartfelt apology, at which he still physically cringes each time its memory crosses his mind. But then something snapped inside of him - maybe it was the jealousy that acted up when he saw Connor becoming friends with other, more attractive people, or he just tried to self-sabotage himself, since he had been dangerously close to kissing that stupid android. Because he’s well aware that he has zero rights to go anywhere near there, even thinking about it triggers an alarm that signals his unworthiness.

But it’s oh so cold here and all he wants is a warm hug from the person he likes the most. His nose is leaking and his throat his being cut with a thousand knives, and he doesn’t know how he’s going to get home when his every move is soaked in pain. He should probably lie down right here and wait for the end to come. He’ll either get better or the blessed oblivion takes him, both options are equally desirable to him. But he has to do one important thing first.

He fumbles for his phone and forces his freezing hand to type in the security code so he can open the texting app. His fingers are numb and his vision blurry, but he succeeds in writing the three overused words that have been floating around his mind since this afternoon when he returned Connor’s worry with a harsh dismissal. If he could take it back, he’d never allow himself to yell at the only person who cares.

“I’m sorry.”

Like that will repair their relationship which he so selfishly damaged.

He’s pretty sure he sends it, but then again it’s hard to see anything when there are tears flooding his vision. He slides down against the wall of some empty building that stands half a mile from his apartment building, ready to accept his fate. His eyelids must be made out of lead for he can’t keep them up, and with every passing minute, his breathing gets slower, since his lungs are on fire and he’d be happier not having to inhale oxygen at all. This could be it, his final night. He’s thought that he wouldn’t struggle against his departure when it finally came, but as he’s now, dying alone in some abandoned back alley, he wishes nothing more than to see the light of day once more.

If only his car didn’t break down, if only Connor liked him enough to brush off his unfair behaviour. He thinks he hears his phone vibrate, but he’s too weak to even open his eyes. This is it then, his final stop.

He must have fallen asleep at some point, because there is a familiar voice calling his name, and he can feel those soft hands on his face. It’s fitting that his last dream would be about Connor, his biggest regret would mock him till the bitter end after all.

“Gavin, please open your eyes.” He can sense the urgency in the android’s voice, the worry that has been there earlier today, and he automatically looks up at the sight he’s longed to see since leaving the office, still believing that it’s just an illusion.

“Con…” He wonders how he’s able to speak when he barely has the strength to focus his vision.

“You stupid motherfucker.”

Yeah, he deserves that.

When he gets lifted up, his head hanging down from the android’s shoulder, he contemplates on this being real and not his farewell fantasy. It gets confirmed through the sharp pain that assaults him when he gets thrown to a backseat of some car.

“I’m so fucking mad at you,” Connor mumbles as the car drives them god knows where. He’s sitting next to him, possibly his thighs being the cushion on which Gavin’s sore head rests. A soothing cold hand is threading through his damp hair and he’s sure they’re on their way to heaven because there is no way this moment belongs into his fucked up reality. The other hand lands on his forehead, acting as the ice-pack he craves so much since despite how cold his body is, he’s three seconds short of self-combustion.

“103.1 degrees. Maybe I should call an ambulance.”

“No!” Gavin manages to croak out because he really can’t afford a hospital stay with his lack of savings and shitty health-insurance.

“Okay.” Connor’s voice is the thing that keeps him from passing out. Because as long as hears it, his ache is limited to his physical body. And that’s much easier to bear.

“You have to stop pushing me away whenever I show a hint of worry, if you want to live that is.” He can discern the threat that comes with the demand, and he’s tempted to smirk in Connor’s face, though he doesn’t, and not only because he doesn’t have the strength to do it.

He wants to thank Connor, needs him to keep talking to him, but he has already depleted his words for the day, and so he’s left to the mercy of chance. If he’s lucky, his gratitude is being transmitted through the relief he’s drowning in, and with each second Connor speaks at him, he’s being more and more convinced that maybe the android likes him back.

“I’m taking you to my place, but we have to stop for some medical supplies first.” 

The silent hum of the car is lulling him to sleep, and Connor’s proximity is not helping much. He feels safe, cared for even. And he doesn’t want to wake up and find out that it was just a part of his wishful thinking, that he hallucinated this whole thing.

Fortunately, the car comes to a sudden stop and that enhances his alertness by a smidge.

“I’ll be right back.”

He’s about to beg him not to go when he’s reminded that he lost the gift of speech, and so he exhales sharply and lets Connor leave his space.

As soon as he’s alone again, he can’t fight his exhaustion anymore and lets the darkness envelop him whole. 

He feels himself tug at his lifeline, watching the world as it distorts before his eyes in the most painful way possible, never sure whether the waking world would be the lesser evil.

When he finally does open his eyes again, he finds himself tucked under a heavy comforter, head rested on an actual fluffy pillow this time.

But the only person he’d like to see right now is nowhere to be found, and as he realises that, his lungs decide to act out and he’s yet again nothing but a coughing machine. 

It must be the middle of the night since it’s still pitch black outside the window, and he doesn’t notice the approaching silhouette until it’s standing right beside him. 

“Drink this.” He notices the yellow light coming from Connor’s temple, which is almost the same colour as the liquid he’s being offered. It doesn’t look appetising whatsoever, not even if he could trust his stomach. But he obeys and does is best to swallow as much of it as his insides can handle.

When he’s done with it, he hands the half-full mug back to the android and panics when he sets to leave from his bed-side.

“Don’t go.”  The nap must have restored some of his energy, for he’s able to grip Connor’s arm. Gavin is burning on the inside while being trapped in a snowstorm, and he’s afraid to be swept away by the pain if there’s no one to around to save him.

“I won’t.”

He doesn’t know if Connor keeps his promise since he drifts off before he has a chance to struggle against the pull of sleep.

The next thing that brings him back from his slideshow of nightmares is fingers tickling one of his cheeks. The breath that he takes as he regains his consciousness already tells him that he’s on his way to recovery.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” Gavin finds out that there is something more he wishes to see than the light of day, although it’s great to know that he successfully survived the night.

It’s the soft smile on Connor’s face, the two bottomless eyes, and the LED ring shining bright blue.

And maybe now, when it’s so bright and his demons are taking a break, Gavin can allow himself to be utterly, completely honest about his feelings.

Because when they managed to get through the unforgiving darkness of night, there’s no reason why the blissful daylight should break what they were able to build together.

@convinseptember I have only a vague idea of where I was going with this xD

[astaralys]

Of Nowhere in Particular, an icebros oneshot

Kristoff doesn't understand hair braiding. Or his sister-in-law, for that matter. In one lesson, Elsa demystifies both for him. A post-Frozen 2 icebros oneshot.

(a.k.a that one scene from ch. 6 of The Next Unknown that wouldn’t leave me alone until I’d given it another 2793 words...)

Can also be read on: FF.net || AO3

Thank you for reading!

-----

This was ridiculous. He could dig a snow anchor in his sleep. He could fasten knots so secure that the sled wouldn't budge an inch in a snowstorm. He understood stuff like this.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"You're not helping, Sven."

"You should just ask Anna to teach you."

"She showed me once when she was half-asleep. I've got this. Hold still."

"Kristoff?"

Yelping, Kristoff whirled around in time to see the ropes that had flown out of his hands land conveniently in Elsa's.

"Sorry for scaring you," she said sheepishly.

"Oh my god." Kristoff clutched his chest. "I thought you were Anna."

Elsa's brow furrowed in concern. "Did the two of you have a fight?"

"No! No, we're good—great. Seriously. It's just… I'm kinda trying to surprise her with something and you know Anna; never know when she's going to pop up. Or where. One time, she gave me, like, half a second's warning before she jumped out a second-storey window and I had to drop everything to catch her."

Nice one, Bjorgman. Now she'll think you're enabling her sister's recklessness.

"… Never mind. Did you, uh, need me for something?"

Elsa's lips curved. "Anna and I wondered if you might be free to join us for lunch." She raised the rope, which she had wound into a neat coil. "But now I'm wondering if I walked in on you putting Sven in a hogtie. He doesn't look very happy."

"We're just practicing some knots before our next trip into the mountains. Right, boy? Ow! Hey!" Sven had snorted and butted him.

Elsa arched a fine eyebrow.

Rubbing his back, Kristoff muttered, "Braiding."

"I'm sorry? I didn't catch that."

"Hair."

"Her?"

"Braiding her hair!"

Too late, Kristoff realised he'd practically yelled at Elsa. Anna's sister. His sister-in-law. Queen of ice and snow. Crap.

But she only stepped forward with mirth in her eyes. "May I?"

Dumbly, he nodded.

Sven held perfectly still for Elsa, allowing her to loop the ropes over his antlers. "You have way too many ropes. It isn't as complicated as it looks; most braids require only three strands." She looked over her shoulder to where Kristoff still stood, dazed. Her smile broadened in amusement. "Come closer. I have no intention of strangling you."

He reluctantly drew up to her side, shooting Sven a hapless look. His best friend ignored him and let out a snuff of pleasure as Elsa scratched his chin. Traitor.

"This is a French braid." Elsa's fingers wove through the ropes in an entirely different kind of magic. "Dutch braid. Pull-through braid. Waterfall braid. The varieties are endless. The symmetry of Anna's pigtails would be difficult for a beginner; I suggest you start with a simple three-strand braid."

Kristoff's eyes felt crossed just from watching. He latched onto the word 'simple'. "Is that the kind of braid you usually have?"

"Yes. It was the first style I taught Anna, too." She fastened the spare ropes to Sven's other antler. "Here, hold your fingers like this. Try to follow along, and tell me if you need me to slow down. Ready?"

He wasn't. How on earth did women do this every day? He'd once seen Anna and Elsa take turns braiding each other's hair at games night, shouting guesses at Olaf's enactments without once looking down at their hands. Utterly terrifying.

But Elsa had once terrified him, too. And now she was laughing as she leaned over to free his clumsy fingers from the dead knot he'd somehow created, her voice warm with patience. "I know it's difficult, but it does get easier. Let's try again. Left… cross—no, the other way. Yes. Now right… and cross again… that's it. You're getting it."

His hair had flopped over his eyes. His left leg was itchy. He wanted to sneeze. But Kristoff dared not take his hands or eyes off the braid, which looked nothing like Elsa's. If he squinted hard enough, though, he could just see it starting to take shape.

There was a rhythm to it, too, just like ice harvesting. Saw, clamp, lift, load… left, cross, right, cross…

Suddenly, Elsa clapped her hands together. "You did it!"

"I did?" Kristoff blinked, looking down. He stared. "Holy carrots—I did it!"

He repeated it to prove that he could. Then again. When he finally managed to do it without Elsa guiding him, Kristoff punched the air and turned to her with both hands held high.

She tilted her head quizzically.

"Hi-ten," he told her. "Two hi-fives."

"Oh. Yes, of course." After slapping palms, she added, "You have very large hands."

"Doesn't help with the braiding, trust me."

"But it does mean you'll be able to catch Anna when she falls." Before Kristoff could think of how to respond to that, Elsa asked, "Would you like to try for real now?"

"Catching Anna? Kinda did that a hundred times already."

"Braiding hair, Kristoff."

"Right. Uh… sure." He sweated at the thought of Anna wearing his ugly braid for the rest of the day, because he already knew she would refuse to take it out. Sometimes Kristoff still wondered how someone like her had ended up so irrevocably taking over the heart of someone like him.

Elsa twirled her hand, and a stool of ice rose from the ground. Then she sat down with her back to him, clasping her hands in her lap.

That was when it hit Kristoff that she meant for him to practice on her. "Are you sure? I mean, I'd like to. May I—I mean we me… wait, what?"

Tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, Elsa chuckled. "You may."

"O-Okay... it's just, um, this is a lot. For me."

Even as he said it, Kristoff realised that it was a lot more for Elsa than it was for him. He knew her well enough by now to tell that she wasn't as relaxed as she tried to portray. They were two ends of the same chain, clicking together only when Anna was their connecting clasp. And they both knew that.

"I'm definitely going to mess up. My stupid salami fingers might yank out your hair."

"That's fine. When we were little, Anna used to pull my braid and pretend I was a racehorse."

It took a moment. Then Kristoff burst into laughter. "You're kidding me."

"Oh no, I am deadly serious. I was Elsa the Swift, proudly bearing Anna the Fearless-Viking-and-Sometimes-Dragonslayer into many vicious battles."

The strangest part was Kristoff could actually picture it. Not Elsa as a horse, but as a child zipping down the halls to indulge her rambunctious baby sister. Elsa with the chest of satin gloves Anna had told him about. Elsa withdrawing from others the same way Kristoff had—except she had been driven away by the horror of hurting them, and he had distanced himself out of fear of being hurt by them.

Then there was Elsa wiping a smudge of paint off of his cheek on Anna's perfect birthday. Elsa being the only one to understand that he'd been acting out 'alone' at last week's charades. Elsa opening her arms and hugging him back for a fraction longer each time she returned from the Enchanted Forest.

Elsa conjuring a second stool for him so he could sit down and braid her hair.

Kristoff gazed at the stool's flawless crystalline structure, as fine and strong and brittle as the silky hair in his hands, and wanted to say I love your ice.

Instead, he blurted out: "I love you."

Elsa spun around. Their wide eyes locked together.

"Ice!" Kristoff said hastily. He could hear Sven laughing behind him. "I love your ice! I mean, I don't not love—I do like you…"

Elsa's lips twitched. "Kristoff?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I also don't not love you."

Kristoff opened and closed his mouth. "That is very confusing."

"Double negatives usually are," she replied, turning back around. "But the meaning remains the same, no matter how complicated it seems."

Kristoff blinked, then sat down. Slowly, carefully, he combed a hand through Elsa's hair. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

"You really have nothing to apologise for."

"No, I meant… I'm sorry I wasn't there. When you and Anna found your parents' ship. And when you… you know. In Ahtohallan."

He couldn't see her face, and Elsa always sat with such poise that it was hard to tell, but Kristoff sensed her whole body go still.

He divided her hair into three strands. "I wish I'd been there. I should have been there."

"No one but me could have safely crossed the Dark Sea—"

"I know that. I know there was probably nothing I could have done. And I'm not saying you and Anna need my protection but…" Kristoff let out a frustrated sigh. "I was raised by trolls, Elsa."

She sounded confused. "I know…?"

"Trolls have very long lives." The rhythm of braiding lulled him into forcing the words out. "Reindeers are better than people, because people beat you and cheat you. And leave you."

Things had been so much simpler when it had just been him and Sven. Before Kristoff had learned how dangerous it was to care for someone. Before the only two people he trusted froze to death one after the other.

Left, cross, right, cross.

The braid slid out of his hands as Elsa turned around. "I'm sorry, too," she said softly. "For leaving you behind and…"

"Dying? Yeah, it'd be great if you could refrain from doing that again."

"You realise it must happen at least one more time, don't you?"

"You realise it would have sounded a lot more reassuring if you hadn't said 'at least', right?"

"Well," Elsa said with a bashful smile, "it wasn't like the first time was intentional. I thought it best to be safe."

"Safe," Kristoff retorted. "Please. You and Anna have no sense of self-preservation. Can you please develop some before I end up having to rule Arendelle? That would be tragic for all involved."

"'King Kristoff' does have a nice ring to it."

"So does Kristoff Bjorgman of Nowhere in Particular."

People like him were not meant to be called Your Highness. They did not marry queens and live in castles. They had no business gelling their hair, or learning how to braid their wife's at night so she wouldn't wake up with shocking bed hair.

People like him were never meant to have so much to lose.

"I've always envied people like you."

Kristoff blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"

Elsa's smile was distant. "This will sound conceited and ungrateful… but I spent most of my life wishing I could be of Nowhere in Particular, too."

Oh.

Sven shot him a baleful, look-what-you've-done look.

Kristoff swallowed. "I think I was there that night."

"I'm sorry?"

There was no way he could do this face to face, so he twirled his finger. Despite being clearly confused, Elsa still turned back around. If only Anna was as compliant.

Unravelling the half-braid that remained, Kristoff said, "I'd snuck out of the orphanage to hang out with the ice harvesters, and I got separated from them when your parents rode past me in the woods. You left behind a trail of ice; it was like nothing I'd ever seen before. So Sven and I followed it to the trolls. I didn't know it was you and Anna until way later, when I saw your ice palace and made the connection. I mean; I've seen a lot of ice, but none of it comes close to yours. I never forgot it—because that night, I remember thinking that I wanted to be you."

Elsa sucked in an audible breath. "You shouldn't have. It was the worst day of my life. I hurt Anna and I… I lost a lot of things that night, Kristoff."

"Yeah, but I didn't know that. I was a scruffy orphan feeling sorry for himself. All I saw was that you had parents who obviously loved you, a sibling to play with, and ice magic to boot. Everything I didn't have, and wanted. But then Bulda adopted me. I went from Kristoff of Nowhere in Particular to Kristoff of the Valley of the Living Rock—and now I'm supposedly Prince Kristoff of Arendelle."

He began the braid again, his fingers steadier this time. "I'm sorry that you were scared that night. If I could go back, I'd jump out of the bushes and tell Pabbie to leave Anna's memories alone, and to save those visions for when you were older. But I'm not sorry that you are you, Elsa, because… well—let's just say that the worst day of your life set into motion the best of mine. You're the reason I have a family."

Anna falling quiet usually meant something was wrong, but Elsa's silence was a part of her; a bridge as much as a barrier. When he'd first started staying in the castle, Kristoff had instinctively hid himself whenever servants or guards approached, unable to shake off the feeling that someone would tell him he wasn't supposed to be there. He'd discovered many broom closets this way.

Every now and then, though, he'd slip into a random sitting room and stumble across Elsa tucked away, reading. There was always a startled, wary edge in her expression when she looked up, but Kristoff had also learned to expect the subtle relief when Elsa recognised that it was just him. She'd offer a smile and sometimes tilt her head or raise an eyebrow. Then she would usually return to her book without saying anything, leaving only an indescribable warmth in the silence; assuring him, without words, that he was welcome to stay.

Sometimes they sat and talked. Sometimes she read and he napped, and they'd both jump out of their skins when Anna inevitably banged into the room with leaves in her hair, ducklings in her hands, and sunshine in her eyes. Sometimes Kristoff would slip out of a busy ballroom and onto a secluded balcony, and she'd already be there catching a breath of fresh air. Sometimes, they'd wordlessly share a flute of champagne one of them had brought out, and he would understand in her tired smile that Elsa of Arendelle and Kristoff of Nowhere in Particular were not so different after all. Two fixer-uppers guided by the same landmark.

Elsa's voice sounded raw as she said, "May I change your life a second time?"

"It'll at least be the fifth time, but sure."

"If you give Anna a pillow to hug and use a hot water bottle to warm up the bed near her feet on cold nights, she won't kick you in her sleep."

"… Are you serious?"

"Yes. Although I do advise wearing an extra layer. I haven't found a way to stop her from stealing the blanket."

"What about the snoring? Any tricks for that?"

"Mother had a way of simply closing her mouth, but I also have not figured that out yet."

He finished the braid and held it over her shoulder. "If I can, do I get a prize?"

Elsa secured her hair with a touch of ice, and smiled back at him. Her eyelashes were heavy with unfallen tears, but her eyes shone with warmth. "I hope you're not expecting another medal and sled. I've already given you my whole world."

She had. She'd given him the gift of summer, wrapped in laughter and strawberry blonde hair.

Who they could now hear calling their names.

Kristoff and Elsa looked at each other.

"Bucket," he predicted, as they both stood up.

Elsa shook her head. "Dress."

Standing at the door, they watched Anna's face light up as she spotted them. She flounced across the courtyard, evading buckets of soap water left behind by the cleaning staff and even remembering to lift her dress as she ran. There was hope.

Then they saw her shoes. "Heels," Kristoff muttered, as Elsa sighed, "Oh dear."

"There you guys are! Are we having lunch or ho-whoooaa!"

The Queen of Arendelle landed face first in a fluffy mound of snow.

Elsa lowered her hand and gave Kristoff a pointed look. "Your wife."

"Your sister."

A snowball exploded on the doorframe above, showering both of them in white.

Anna giggled in the background.

Kristoff shook the cold out of his hair and began to roll up his sleeves. "Our idiot?" he suggested.

"Queen of Poor Decisions," Elsa agreed, calmly brushing herself off as a winter breeze swirled at her feet.

Anna was already running, her laughter floating up into the sky.

Reindeers were better than people; Kristoff knew that was true.

For all except two.

[wheremytwinwatches]

[Where My Twin Watches]: Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Episode 51

Last Time: The Bus Came Back, Al really needs to learn Morse Code, and the Golems woke up. Onwards!

Oh snap, new opening. Soft music as Ed and Al stand together in Central, looking at the lit-up castle until Ed looks away to blue pictures of Roy’s Crew wait I just saw Hughes in there. Oooh no. That’s not a good sign. Ok it’s including everyone from Armstrong the Great to General Grumman so unless this show’s heading towards a Total Party Wipe (which is not as unlikely as I’d like) it must just be stylistic. Wait what that was a white Truth outline that looked a heck of a lot like Winry. Please tell me she’s ok. Aaaand now it’s all red and black as someone (Ed?) screams and other flashes of red souls oh it’s the Goths. Aw hell it’s the Goths! And Uncle as well looking annoyed until GAH it’s one of those freaking Golems. Ok back to calming blue pictures of the Good Guys, then Al’s Soul still sitting at the Gate of Truth with his empty armor behind him, and Truth laughing like the jerk he is. Winry! Wi- wait why are you standing in a white dress at the edge of a cliff? Young lady that’s far too close, step back right now. Also stop crying and/or point me in the direction of whoever made you cry. We get a title for this song (“Rain”) as townspeople and villagers look up at the storm clouds in concern, and Military soldiers run out alongside tanks whaaaaat is that? What is that there’s a hunched figure standing in flames, zoomed in to show glowing white eyes and very big teeth. Now it’s Bradley in a bloodied white shirt sitting in the rain acting all calm and collected, switch to complete opposite of Scar tossing aside his jacket ooooh are we gonna get Scar fighting Bradley in this arc? Yeah I know that the trailers always lie but there tends to be elements of truth like the arms that grabbed Al coming up in a later arc. Now it’s the Chimera Army (sadly not under the command of General Al), and the Armstrong Siblings standing alongside each other and Mrs. and Mr. Curtis! Good to see you guys again! Wait Roy why do you look so upset? Riza why are you crying in an alleyway with your dog? And now Ed and Al are standing on opposite sides of a tree damnit are they gonna get separated again? Ok finally the sun’s broken through NOPE NOPE DEAD PERSON ALERT THAT LOOKS LIKE MAMA ELRIC BUT IT PROBABLY ISN’T EITHER RUN OR PUNCH IT ED. Nevermind he was just dreaming. While being watched over by Winry. Kinda cute, but kinda creepy too. Episode 51 - “The Immortal Legion” Oh great, this episode is gonna focus on those creepy Golems. Just what I wanted to start the new year with, yay. So a bunch of pipes are disconnecting from the gasping artificial zombies who land kneeling on the floor, before standing GREAT they’re in that uncanny 3D modeling that Titan!Envy used. Officer laughs at the labcoat’s insistence that they needed more tests, pointing at the undying, obedient, invincible soldiers. [Officer]: “We have our Title Drop, at long last!” Now he’s ordering the Golems (“Papa” NO) to deal with the renegade ele- Uh What So… One of the Golems walked forward and just… tore out his throat with its teeth. And a bunch of other Golems have pounced on the screaming Officer. Who’s no longer screaming. Aaaand now they’ve stopped, and turned with bloody mouths to the labcoat. … … … How fucking stupid are these guys? I mean really. REALLY. How has Amestris lasted as a country this long if this is what its leadership and researchers are like? How could the labcoats have failed so spectacularly to create Zombies when the goal was to create Golems? What kind of shoddy “tests” were they running to not figure out that their supposedly obedient soldiers were mindless killing beasts? Was there no prototype? Did they literally build an army of these things just assuming that they would all work? You fail, my good sirs! You fail at Science! And you, Officer! You completely ignored the guy whose job it is to know things, who told you that the weapon wasn’t ready, and you just set it off? You were so blinded by your arrogance and desire for command over others that you unleashed this army of Zombies without any assurance that they wouldn’t kill you for standing in front of them? Uncle. I get that you’re a bad guy. I get that you view humanity as a lesser species, no better than fuel for yourself and your Goths. And frankly, after seeing this Kimblee level of incompetence, I can see your point. But you have to have seen this coming. You had to have known that your minions were this stupid, this incredible level of dumbfuckery that has me storming around my room, ranting at the utter failure of this Officer and researcher. Clearly this is the reason you made your Goths, because if this was the level of ability you led before you made more competent henchmen? It’s a miracle that the whole country hasn’t gone up in flames without even the slightest effort by the Conspiracy.

Ok. Ok, we need to move on. So while that whole mess is kicking off, Ed’s reached the Door beneath The Third Laboratory. Oh hey, Barry’s still there! Miss you, you were funny when you weren’t killing innocents or trying to flirt with Riza. Giant door, check. Now how to open it. Actually, do we want to open it? Is it connected to the Transmutation Circle, is opening it playing into Uncle’s hands? Ah well, Ed’s gonna try anyway, struggles for a bit pulling at the seam (maybe it’s a push door?) until Scar gets bored and prepares to HoD it oh hey it’s opening CLOSE IT CLOSE IT CLOSE IT ZOMBIES CLOSE IIIIIIIIITTTTTTT Oh hey Armstrong the Great. Still haven’t killed the second General? Yeah he’s more useful as a bullet shield right now, and he’s still a General so he can order the Central Forces to stand down. Only he’s not giving the order? Huh. I’m actually kinda impressed here, guy’s been stabbed multiple times and has a gun to his head but he still gives an order to seal all entrances to Central. Still a bad guy and Armstrong the Great’s absolutely going to kill him now, but still. Ooor instead of Armstrong the Great, it’ll be Sloth literally crushing him. Ouch. Oooh dear, seems Sloth’s been ordered to kill Armstrong the Great for interfering, and she doesn’t have a tank or a snowstorm this time. She’s still laughing though, thanking the Goth for opening up another General seat, and brandishes her blade. [Armstrong the Great]: “This sword was passed through the Armstrong Family for generations. Now I don’t have to sully it with his filthy blood!” Adventure Strings continue as Ed’s fighting the Zombie Horde, the Chimera’s are throwing punches and Scar’s breaking out the HoDs to kill… oh dear. Scar’s One Hit Kill isn’t killing. That’s not good. The Zombies groan and shuffle around them- [Zombie]: “Big Brother!” NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPE FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK YOU, WHOEVER WROTE THAT LINE YOU DO NOT TARNISH ONE OF THE SADDEST MOMENTS IN THIS SHOW WITH THESE MONSTERS SCREW. YOU.

Ed’s reacting in shock, realizing that they used human souls to make the Zombies, even somehow poor Nina’s. And for all the Zombies already, more and more come pouring through the door. Scar’s right, if these things escape outside to where civilians are just standing around wondering at all the Military soldiers running around, it’ll be a slaughter… Oh. Ok, I get it. Uncle deliberately set this up so the Officers (who are still IDIOTS) would set off a slaughter of the Central populace, probably to fuel the Transmutation Circle like Kimblee orchestrated the Drachman’s destruction up north. Back inside, Ed seals off the exit to keep the Zombies in ok sorry I have to say something, did the animation budget get cut for this episode to focus on the Zombies? Because for whatever reason Ed just seems off-model today, his face keeps looking rounder and younger. Anyways, the Chimeras are eager to let loose in a fight and transform, the group charges towards the Gate to plow through the horde and reach “that bearded bastard”. Outside Military forces are trying to close off roads and keep the Armory Ice Cream Truck from escaping, until a certain Briggs Officer arrives to express his displeasure. [Central Officer]: “A- a bear! A bear with a mohawk! Aaaa-” So Roy and his Crew are safely out of town, but now they’ll have some trouble getting back in. Although the Military are looking for an ice cream truck specifically. Almost makes me wish Ed was here to Transmute up a disguise for the vehicle. Almost mind you, things aren’t so desperate we need that just yet. Lion’s still at the Dome, wondering how things are going with the others. With nothing better to do he goes to talk to Al, ask what that annoying tapping noise is FINALLY thank you so Al didn’t know but Lion with his military experience was able to identify the dot dot dot dash dash dash dot dot dot and realize that Al needs to shut Pride up, NOW. He’s been broadcasting your loca- Uh oh. Kimblee’s here. And as much as I insult the guy, I think he’s probably strong enough to brush past an injured Lion and break Pride out- Or straight up kill Lion while knocking a hole in the Dome. Damnit. Pride is loose. Mid-ep pictures of Zombies (“Mannequin Soldiers”) doing the See-Speak-Hear No Evil poses, and Alphonse Elric looking pissed. Aw shit May’s getting chased by Zombies in the tunnels! Run May! Run Shao May! Screw Envy, leave him to get eaten by the monsters! She screams at Envy for tricking her while he yells that her source of Immortality is still further inside, then she takes a moment to lay a beautiful if ineffective beatdown on some Zombies before catching oh shit I was joking about Envy getting eaten nobody deserves- Uh oh. [Envy]: “I’m baaaack!” Soooo, Envy’s kind of… melded with the Zombie, who ate another Zombie and then melded with all of the other Zombies to make Titan!Envy, who shrunk down into standard Envy. Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a Goth back in play. Crap. In the village near the Dome, Yoki’s panicking at the Military presence, trying to persuade Marcoh to stay quiet and not draw attention to themselves. But Marcoh’s upset at not doing anything. Also, what’s that smoke coming from the Dome? Pride’s sauntering out, Kimblee actually sounds a bit unnerved at the news that Pride ate another Goth. Pride’s justifying it as them coming from the same father, they’re just in a combined form again. Oh hey, Lion’s still alive! Kinda. Not looking or sounding too good, though. Al rushes forward damnit he just got grabbed by Pride’s shadows, he’s gonna get possessed again and Ed’ll have to fight him damnit. But Al transmutes the ground for a Big Boom, ok so dust to block out the shadows? Or not, Pride still has Al’s feet… aha! He only has Al’s feet! Al pulled a Lan Fan! Back to Battle Drum music as Armstrong the Great’s fighting Sloth, who’s smashing up the room with his chains. Armstrong the Great, honey, don’t waste your bullets on Sloth, it’s doing nothing. Maybe your sword? Damnit Military grunts, stop bothering Armstrong the Great by threatening to shoot her for treason. See, that’s what you get for threatening Armstrong the Great, she just dodges so you take the hit from Sloth. Thanks for the grenade, btw! So that’s not going to do much to Sloth (besides be funny as he “Huh?”s at the grenade right in his face, but maybe Armstrong the Great can use the smoke to- [Sloth]: “Hey, look! I caught you! And this time, I won’t mess up.” Well that aint good. Sloth’s got her trapped against a pillar and is squeezing her to death, Armstrong the Great’s actually in pain and-

YES [The Mighty Armstrong]: “HEELLLOOO, SISTER! AAAARRREE YOOOOOU ALLLRIGHT?! HAH HAH!” *sparkles and explosion because AWESOME* He’s back! The Mighty Armstrong is back, and after sending Sloth flying with a single punch is ready to fight alongside his snarky sibling! Armstrong the Great updates The Mighty Armstrong on the plot (that’s a Goth, bullets are useless, I want my tanks back). [The Mighty Armstrong]: “You don’t say? *sparkle* Fortunately dear sister, that is my specialty! Why don’t you let your brother have a crack at it! I’ll take this atrocity down! Come on, you monster!” [Sloth]: “Ugh. What a pain.” Hey! Hey hey hey don’t you skip away from the Armstrong Fight! Go back to Best Characters! Ugh, ok fine Al’s current situation of trying to drag a grievously wounded Lion away from the dome while his own legs are stumps is sufficiently dramatic enough I’ll accept the scene switch. This time. But yeah, Al and Lion are in a tough spot. Lion’s even telling Al to leave him behind, which Al is having none of. But really now, Al’s down a few limbs, when the dust clears they’ll be facing Kimblee and Pride together, and Lion’s coughing up blood. Now Al’s knee has blown out and he’s resorting to beating the crap out of it in frustration. [Lion]: “You brothers… are really something else… You’re still determined to help another person, even when you’re falling to pieces yourself.” Now Al’s talking about his promise, to never let anyone else die. So now the show’s going to either force Al to break his promise abandon Lion at the Chimera’s insistence, or he’ll keep trying until the dust fades and Pride walks up and kills Lion before repossessing Al’s armor anyway. This sucks- wait, what’s Lion have in his pocket?

HOLY LETO IT’S THE PHILOSOPHER’S STONE! I completely forgot that Lion pocketed it ages ago after Ed’s injury. Has the dude been carrying around one of the setting’s most prized MacGuffin’s in his pocket this whole time? Dude. Also, is this going where I think it’s going?

So they’re discussing the dilemma: with their own Stone they might be able to fight against the other guy armed with one and the ‘kid’ powered by two, but if they use the Stone they’ll be using the souls used in making it. And if I remember, this was Kimblee’s first stone, the one made with Ishvalan Sacrifices. Lion talks about Ed’s conviction to not use Stones on their bodies. Instead, he says to “use it to save the entire world instead”. [Lion]: “You deserve it. Because even if they’ve been put into that Stone, you still recognize them as people. I know… those people… even though they’re trapped in Stone, they still want to fight to protect what matters to them. Let them fight. They deserve the chance!” I’m picturing the Ishvalans in the stone cheering. “Heck yeah let’s kick some ass! That jerk in the tacky suit used us to murder our own people, we want to tear him apart!” Al agrees. They’ll fight together. Thank you. For all my ranting at not using the Stone to heal Ed back then, I can appreciate this take. Using a Stone is Wrong, and it cannot be something that our Protagonists ever truly accept. But when faced with no other options, and using it specifically to help others, not themselves, it is acceptable that Al uses the Stone to fight back. Outside the cloud Kimblee asks if he should blow it away, but Pride’s overconfident and says they’re trapped without Al’s legs- BOOM! Flash of red, Kimblee loses his hat in the windblast, and Al strides out on newly-Transmuted legs. Kimblee smiles. New Outro! We’ve got… I can’t tell if it’s Beardless or Al, going by the stonework I’m going to assume Beardless. Still Beardless, hair blowing in the wind...still Beardless...still Beardless...what is the whole Outro just Beardless never mind it just switched to Mama Elric’s grave, then a crowd of Xerxes folk hey it’s that picture Keaton used to show Xerxians have no black outline to their hair. Then either Beard or Uncle walking through the desert in a white cloak, and the Elric Household complete with the swing that Beard nearly broke his back setting up. Whoop speaking of we have a grumpy Beard surrounded by white light and shattering stone, then Homunculus sulking in his flask. Also, A+ on putting the only credit this screen (Mixing Engineer Adrian Cook) right in front of the one-eyed circle monster.

Ooh, but now we’ve got an orbital view of the planet, with a giant circular shock wave coming off of it. Implying the Nationwide TC is activated? Now Ed looking serious in his red coat, and poor skinny Al’s soul smiling in front of the Gate. Now it’s his armor form standing in front of a sunset (Ending Theme “Ray of Light”), and a final shot of the road leading to the Rockbell home.

[thiswasinevitableid]

"we sleep together the same night a terrible snowstorm hits the city and everything gets shut down so now i have no way to get home so let’s make it a two night stand?" indruck prompt? (eyes emoji)

This prompt is Not Suitable for Your Workplace

Duck stretches out on the cushy lounge seat at “Woofs,” his favorite gay bar in the city. He’s in a celebratory mood, having scored a promotion (okay, so it’s from “almost full time” to “actually full time” ranger, but that’s still pretty damn good). So he’d fucked off to the big city for a night for as a reward.

He’s not sure if he’ll score in another way just yet. Duck isn’t prone to prowling at these places; if a guy is bear hunting and happens to like the look of him, he’s more than happy to dial up his quiet charm. Maybe growl in the guys ear a little and see if that gets them to a car or apartment or somewhere else where his date can bounce in his lap until he comes in some tight, if forgettable, ass. 

He used to be more proactive, but if he’s honest it feels weird being thirty-two and trying to put the moves on a guy who might be ten years younger than him,

As he sips his beer, a flash of white hair catches his eye. At the end of the bar nearest him, a skinny, gangly man of indeterminate age is drawing a finger around the rim of his glass. He turns for a moment in Ducks direction and he’s struck by how strange he looks. Not bad, but like no one Duck’s ever seen before. He doesn’t seem dressed for the setting, in fact he looks a little disheveled, and not in the scruffy way Duck is trying to pull off. 

Duck keeps an eye on him, looking for signs of interest. What he gets is the man staring at his drink for a solid five minutes, stirring it but never drinking. When he finally glances Ducks way again, he looks sad.

No, no way, Duck is not spending the night he set aside to relax and get laid seeing if someone random guy at a bar is okay. 

The seat next to the mystery man opens up. 

Duck stands. 

“Mind if I sit here?” He gives his most neutral smile.

The pale-haired man stares at him, eyes seeming far away behind the red lenses of his glasses. 

“Oh, no, go right ahead.” He flashes a tight, oddly wide smile, goes back to staring at his drink. Takes the tiniest sip and makes a disgusted face.

“Not an Old-fashioned man, huh?”

“I just like the cherries, the rest is too bitter. I saw too late there was an eggnog cocktail. Really only have money for the one drink.”

Duck’s beer is empty. He signals the bartender, orders an Old-Fashioned. When it arrives, he slides it towards the other man, cherry stem pointed at him. 

The man pauses, and to Duck it looks like he’s calculating odds in his head. Then he plucks the cherry from the glass and tugs it off the stem with his teeth. 

“Thank you.” His smile is shy, and this time he doesn’t turn away. So Duck keeps talking.

“Alright, I gotta know, do you only come to this place for cherries?”

“No. I came here because once again no one listened to me and I am so very tired. I thought I could get past my distaste for alcohol in order to get drunk and enjoy not having to think for awhile. No such luck.”

“So you were plannin just to sulk into your drink all night?”

“It was the probable outcome.” He looks longingly at the jar of maraschino cherries just visible on a back shelf.

“Y’know, if you order a shirley temple it’s got a bunch of those in it and no booze.” When the other man perks up he adds, “could even buy one for you, if that ain’t unwelcome.”

The man cocks his head as he looks at him, “Is this a flirtation?”

“Can be, if you want.” Duck takes a casual sip of his drink. The taller mans eyes trace from his hair down to his toes, widening with appreciation the more he takes him.

“I’m certainly interested.” This comes out in a purr, and Duck feels heat spark through his gut.

He’s delighted to find that he made a remarkably good call coming over here. His new friend is odd, yes, but also pretty damn funny, with a cute, crooked smile a promising shape to his ass. As they talk, he relaxes, his glum look vanishing, and he places soft, teasing touches on Ducks hand, arm, and thigh. 

By the time Duck’s finished his drink, he’s pretty sure where this night is going. 

A cherry is resting on the ice in his glass. He plucks it out, holding it between his thumb and finger. His companions’ eyes flick to the fruit, then to Ducks face, and a mischievous grin spreads across his lips. He leans forward, parting them and taking the cherry before licking along Ducks palm. 

“Mmmm” he purrs again, doesn’t bother to put any distance between them. 

“You got a name, darlin?” Duck whispers, voice husky.

“Indrid. And you’re-”

“Duck.” He replies, though it almost sounds like Indrid says it along with him.

“Duck” Indrid repeats, “huh, I like that name.” 

Duck likes it too. And he’s got a hunch he’s going to like it even more when Indrid is moaning it. 

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Ducks’ hunch is correct.

“Duck.” Indrid whines, breathy and needy, pressed against the door of the Winnebago that he apparently calls home, “Duck, please, bedroom, now.” Deft, slender fingers are tugging his shirt open and he’s harder than he’s been in months. 

“Don’t want me to fuck you right here?” He grins, cupping Indrids ass and lifting him off the floor with ease (thank you weird powers he doesn’t want).

“Goodness!” Indrid wraps his legs around Ducks waist, “That was a surprise. I don’t get many of those.”

“Got good news for you, sugar.” Duck purrs, making Indrid wiggled excitedly in his arms, “I’m full of ‘em.”

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Duck wakes up to snow falling in thick sheets beyond the small window in the bedroom. It’s a little later than he meant to wake up, but it’s Sunday and the drive to Kepler isn’t that long so he’s not in that big of a hurry. 

Indrid is curled in his arms, limbs intertwined haphazardly with his own. He makes a small, chirping noise, then cuddles closer.

Duck could probably just get up and go without Indrid noticing. But he’s got manners, and it would be impolite to leave without thanking his host for a lovely time. 

He kisses the top of Indrids’ head, “Mornin, sugar.”

“Nmmmh.” Indrid’s eyes flutter open behind his glasses, then he peers over Ducks shoulder out the window.

“I hate snow. ‘S cold.” He grumbles, burrowing further under the blankets.

“Well, you hunker down for the day then. I gotta get on the road, snow’s liable to make gettin home take way long than I planned.”

“But you’re warm.” He holds Duck tighter, kissing lightly at his neck. 

“And you’re real fuckin cute. But I still gotta go.”

“Very well.” Indrid smiles softly, “I’m glad you decided to celebrate with me last night. Congratulations on being a park ranger. It must be fascinating work. Do you like it?” The sweet, sleepy look on his face makes Duck melt a little.

“I see what you’re tryin to do” he teases, squeezing Indrids ass once for good measure, “you’re tryin to distract me, get me talkin about trees so you can steal my warmth.”

A sly smile this time, “perhaps a little. I won’t really keep you though. If you need to shower, it’s just through there.”

Duck thanks him, slips from the bed and heads into the bathroom. Emerges with a towel around his waist a few minutes later, gathering his clothes from where they were strewn about during last nights activities. Indrid is bundled in a thick, fluffy bathrobe, fiddling with the radio at the front of the trailer. As Duck retrieves his boxers from a lampshade, Indrid murmurs, “oh dear.”

A moment after, the radio informs them that a massive storm is moving through the area, and that travel is inadvisable at best and impossible at worst. 

“Looks like you may be here another night.” Indrid says apologetically, his face lit warmly by the space heaters dotting the Winnebago. 

“Can think of worse things.” He notices Indrid staring, remembers he’s still only in a towel. 

“See somethin you like?”

“I should think that was obvious.”

“I’m tryin to be smooth here, darlin.” 

“Be bold instead.” Indrid licks his lips and Duck shrugs, letting the towel drop to the floor. 

“That bold enough for yAHhhhhnnn, fuck.” Duck is pressed against the kitchen counter, Indrid dropping to his knees and rolling a condom on so swiftly that Duck swears it was like a magic trick, before taking all of Ducks cock in his mouth in one go. 

“Jesus, jesus sugar, oh fuck that feels so good.” He pets his fingers through white hair as Indrid looks up, smug expression clear even as his lips turn shiny with spit and lube.

“That’s, darlin, oh lord have mercy, fuck, your throat is so fuckin tight, feels amazin.” 

Indrid purrs, which makes Duck moan, then guides his other hand down so both a resting in his hair. 

“I’m real close, shit, just a little faster, c’mon, I know you can go faster please.” He whimpers embarrassingly loud when, instead of speeding up, Indrid slows down and blinks up at him with a mockingly innocent expression.

“Oh you fuckin…” Duck growls, orgasm nudged closer by the thought of where this is going. He tangles his fingers in Indrids hair, locks eyes with him.

“Yes?”

Indrid nods. And then Duck is thrusting his hips wild and fast, yanking Indrid back and forth along his cock. The taller man is moaning, blissed-out expression on his face as Duck fucks it. Duck finds filth pouring from his mouth with surprising ease, increasing in gruffness when Indrid moans at the harsher words. 

“Fuckin smartass little tease, oughta keep you on your knees and do this all day so you remember who you’re fuckin with. Oh fuck, Indrid, yes, oh fuck yeah.” He comes hard, forcing Indrids mouth all the way down again.  His hips pulse a few times, but when the man tries to pull away he keeps him trapped.

“Nuh uh, you’re gonna keep suckin til I’m done.”

A high, whimpering purr leaves Indrid, and Duck spies him palming the front of his pajama pants through his robe. Soon, he releases his head and he pulls back with a gasp. He makes a wordless, happy sound, nuzzling along the line of Ducks hips. 

“You want me to take care of that for you, darlin?”

“Yes, please.” 

Duck gathers him up off the floor, sets him on the counter and carefully tugs down his pants. His cock is dripping as Duck closes his hand around it.

“Oh! Oh yes.”

“How do you want it?”

“H-however you wish, but, but please touch the rest of me too.” 

Duck wraps his other arm around him, pulling him close as he steps between his spread legs. He kisses him wherever he can reach, little sighs echoing through trailer when he does. Indrid embraces his, lips trailing along his neck and face, kissing him eagerly. The kisses turn sloppier as Duck tightens his grip, stroking him hard and fast. 

“Kiss me, I want to come while you kiss me.”

“Think I can manage that.” He steadies Indrids head with his free hand, kissing him hard. The other man is making sharp, high noises against his lips and when he comes across Ducks hand and belly the noise changes to something like a trill, muffled as Ducks tongue slips between his lips to meet his own. 

Indrid keeps kissing him dreamily as he comes down from his orgasm. 

“You’re tremendous.” He murmurs under the hum of the space heaters. 

“Right back at you, darlin. Now, let’s go shower and, uh, see where the day takes us.” He says this last part with a grin that suggests they both the answer is “to bed.”

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In the decade that follows, both Indrid and Duck think on that night from time to time. For awhile, neither of them see it as any more than a two-night stand that was particularly excellent, one that they remember fondly.

It takes on irony much sooner for Indrid, but only because he sees what’s coming in a way Duck can’t. Then he nearly forgets about the whole thing because of the Cottonwood and the disasters and the phone calls. 

It’s only when he sees the Pine Guard coming up the trail to his home that realizes Duck Newton is in for quite a surprise.