#this horrible ice age weather would go away here.

[hyunpic]

[echo-goes-mmm]

Ambrose and Elliot #20

Masterpost

Previous

Next

Warnings: briefly mentioned past torture

Ambrose said snow would be falling soon, and Elliot was terrified. The weather was colder here than his old master’s land. The wood floors wouldn’t be so bad when winter came, but snow was snow and snow was deadly.

Once, his old master had thrown him outside as a punishment. He nearly died from the cold and ice, and had to beg until he passed out to be let back in. The doctor said it was a miracle of the gods he hadn’t lost any fingers or toes. 

Elliot had more clothes than he’d ever had in his life now, but would it be enough?

He had two blankets, woolen socks, gloves and mittens, a great big coat, everything. But the fluttering hollow of anxiety inside him wasn’t satisfied. 

He got up early, before dawn, to sneak wood into his room. Ambrose didn’t come in often, so he hopefully wouldn’t notice the pile of extra wood in the corner.

What else would he need? 

Elliot remembered the tiny closet his old master locked him in. It was the best place to be in that horrible house when snow fell. It warmed him up because it was so little and stuffy. Ambrose didn’t have a closet that was both big enough for him to sit in and small enough to trap heat.

Elliot stole a blanket from the linen closet and lined his wardrobe with it. If it got cold enough, he could hide from winter inside it.

He began to squirrel away food and water under his bed. It was bad of him, but he needed it. He couldn’t take another winter hungry and freezing. Elliot had gotten two glass jugs and filled them with water. He also wrapped up some smoked and salted pork Ambrose had stored away downstairs. He tucked several apples into a small sack, and stole a jar of pickled veggies and a tin of nuts from the storeroom. Master Ambrose had made dozens of jars and had been smoking and salting meat for ages. He wouldn’t notice anything wrong. 

___________________

Elliot thought he was being sneaky, but Ambrose knew something was off right away. It just took him a few days to figure it out. 

He was going to use those two jugs to make mead, but oh well. Elliot’s little stash was all shelf-stable, so he wasn’t going to discourage him. 

The wood wasn’t a problem either. In all honesty, Ambrose probably should do the same thing. It would save him a lot of trips outside.

Ambrose didn’t have to wonder for long why Elliot was so twitchy lately. He kept glancing out the window at the sky, poking around in the fireplaces, making hot drinks and steaming meals.

He didn’t want to think about why Elliot was so scared of the cold. Ambrose was certain it stemmed from something horrible. Elliot’s quirks were almost always some coping mechanism to avoid pain.

Ambrose didn’t know how cold it would get this year. But Elliot would be fine, even without his secret cache of food. He wasn’t going to try and talk him out of his fear, it didn’t work like that. Winter would always have some level of danger, so there was no use reasoning with him. Ambrose could only hope Elliot would relax when he realized he would be alright.

___________________

The snow fell down gently, in large flakes. It was pretty, but the bubbling anxiety in his chest kept him from watching for long. He got through his chores as quickly as possible and retreated to his bedroom.

He closed the curtains. He didn’t want to see the proof of winter looming outside. The room was warm and toasty and he was content to curl up and wait. If he had to spend all season in here, then so be it.

“Sweetheart,” called Master from behind the door, “I made some hot chocolate. I’m going to toast some marshmallows downstairs. You can join me if you want.”

Hm. That did sound pretty nice. He pulled a blanket over his shoulders and peeked out into the hall. It didn’t seem cold. 

He made his way downstairs, and there was a roaring fire in the dining room fireplace. Ambrose waved at him from a chair sat in front of the fire. He felt a little more settled, and he eyed the steaming mugs of hot chocolate and the tray of cheese and crackers. 

Ambrose was, in fact, toasting marshmallows. He ate one right off the stick, and Elliot found himself smiling as he went to sit next to him.

Ambrose handed him a prepared stick with a marshmallow on it. It was fun to toast them, and Ambrose showed him he could plop one into his mug and it would get all melt-y.

It was pretty hard to remember how scared he was when they were eating snacks and sipping on sweet drinks all afternoon. 

Maybe winter wouldn't be so bad this year.

taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain @secretwhumplair @paintedpigeon1 @whump-blog @whump-em @thingsthatgowhumpinthenight @starfields08000 @littlespacecastle @mylovelyme @whump-cravings @zeewbee @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @keepingwhumpwiththekardashians @fanastyfinder @roblingoblin285 @whumpzone

[theonewiththefanfics]

Black Ice (one-shot)

Synopsis: Black ice is considered one of the most dangerous winter weather phenomenon. It appears after it’s rained or snow has melted and then the rapidly cooling air freezes it, leaving it as a shiny black mirror on the ground.  A deadly shiny black mirror. 

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Warnings: swearing, mentions of hospitals and injuries

Word count: 8852

“God, Harry, it’s just one night!” Y/N exasperated, throwing her hands in the air. “One fucking night I wanna go out with my friends and have some fun. Is that really too much to ask?”

        “I haven’t seen you in two months!” he snapped back. “So, please fucking forgive me that I wanna spend a night in with my girlfriend and have her say ‘no’ one time, and make me a priority. Is it so hard to reschedule?”

        “Yes, Harry it is!” Y/N stood her ground. “Adam and I have been talking about this for three weeks before we could set a date and meet up. He fucking flew out here! To London! And it’s not my fault you haven’t been home in two months, so don’t put that on me.”

        “No,” he shook his head pointing a finger at her. “Don’t pull that shit on me. You knew about my job, you know how it can be, how much I have to travel.”

        “I get that, and I’d get your anger if I was fucking off with my friends on our anniversary without any notice or some shit, but I’m not! I made these plans ages ago. I told you about them! How could I have known you’d decide to ‘surprise’ me a week early?”

        But the thing for Harry was – he did think there was an anniversary to celebrate. It wasn’t an official one, and he hadn’t told Y/N how much the date meant, but that day was the day they’d met a year prior.

***

        He was in the middle of filming ‘Darling Don’t Worry’. This time they'd flown out of California to shoot a scene in the middle of the woods, in the cold of November, which as exciting as it was to have his acting career flourish, Harry wasn't too happy about freezing his ass off in the middle of nowhere.

Y/N, however, lived right next to those woods, her family house having been there for generations, while the location scouts of the movie had chosen the location because the aesthetic could double as the location of the woods behind the mansion.

        Y/N’d been out on her daily run (well, daily complaining because Y/N, with all her being, hated running, and thought it was a sign you were a masochist. But her best friend Adam loved running and hated going alone, so he bribed her with the promise of pizza afterwards), when they’d run into pitched white tents, filming equipment and barriers encasing a part of the path they were on.

        Adam’s eyebrows furrowed as he slowed his pace, and Y/N thanked god for that because she felt like she was about to pass out.

        “What’s going on here?”

        “Dunno,” Y/N huffed. “But we should probably leave.”

        But instead, Adam grabbed her by the bicep, dragging her forward to the set. “Nope. Come on.”

        “Adam!” she hissed. “What the fuck are you – “

        “Hi!” He flashed a woman standing by the railing a smile. “Could you-uh-tell us what’s going on? Why’s the path blocked?”

        “A movie’s being filmed. Sorry for the disturbance.”

        “Mhm, and when do you think you’ll be leaving?”

        That she hadn’t expected, given how typically when people saw a movie set, they’d be more than intrigued in getting into a shot or finding out about who were the stars, not when they’d be going away.

        “Oh, uh,” she stammered. “I’m not too sure. Depends if the snow starts falling and how much we manage to shoot. Sorry. But uh, would you be so kind and find a path around?”

        Y/N jumped in, flashing her a kind smile. “Yes, thank you. So sorry to have disturb –“

        “You do realise this is a public place?” Adam raised an eyebrow. “We have a right to be here.”

        “Adam, shut up,” Y/N groaned. “We can run around them, it’s not a big deal.”

        “But this is our route!”

        “Adam for fuck’s sake! It’s the woods, you don’t own them!”

        “Exactly!” he said. “And neither do they! They have no rights to infringe on our ability to get to the sea.”

        That’s when Harry had noticed her, and to this day Y/N had no clue as to why he’d fallen for her. He was conversing with Florence about the upcoming scene when his ears caught the very end of the conversation, green eyes snapping to where two people in running tracksuits stood.

        One of them was a tall burly man, muscles practically ripping apart his clothes at the seams, the other was a shorter woman, hands-on-hips, hair kept away by a headband which also covered her ears, and the most done expression on her face as she glared at her companion.

        They were talking with a nervous assistant; Harry could see by her stature and how her head kept snapping to the side in hopes of finding someone above her to deal with the two strangers.

        “Adam, I swear to god, I’ll punch you." Harry heard the woman exclaim. "Leave the girl alone! We can run around.”

        “But I –“

        “Adam!”

        “Fine,” he grumbled as he threw the assistant and apologetic look. “Sorry.”

        “ ‘S okay. Have my preferred cycling route as well, so yeah… Sorry.”

        Harry watched as the woman next to the person, Adam, shook her head and gestured to where the barriers curved around, starting up on a slow jog, and when they passed where he was standing by the trailers, he could hear them still arguing. 

        “Oh my god,” Harry heard her whisper while looking at the ground. “I’m friends with a fucking Karen.”

        “I am NOT a – you’re Harry Fucking Styles!” Adam shouted so hard, it startled Y/N, and when she looked over, it was like a deer in headlights before relaxing and both of them slowed their pace.

        “Sorry,” she gave him an awkward glance. “He’s a fan, but we’ll be going and stop bothering you...”

        “No, no,” Harry shook his head, putting his hands in his coat’s pockets and smiling. “ ‘S alright, you’re no bother. I’m always happy to talk to a fan.”

        “Yes, well, don’t encourage him. Soon enough, you’ll be besties, and Adam here’ll be turning your life into absolute chaos.”

        He scoffed looking down at his friend. “I’d like to think I’m taking you out of your boring routine, Y/N, and giving it some spice.”

        “Anyway,” she gritted out. “It was lovely to meet you, but uh, we should probably be on our way. You have to be somewhere.”

        Y/N’s eyes glanced over Harry’s shoulder, where a nervous AD stood, bouncing on her feet, a weary smile on her face as she caught the singer’s eyes and motioned with her head he was needed back on set.

        Harry nodded and wanted to turn back to tell the two to come by whenever they wanted (well mainly Y/N), but when he turned around, the two were already quite a few feet away. Just as he was about to leave, he heard Y/N shout, “Congratulations on the three Grammy nominations, by the way. ‘Fine Line’ was amazing.”

        “And that’s a compliment!” Adam hollered jogging backwards. “She only listens to shit from the early 2000s.”

        “Adam, shut up!”

        With that, Harry was left to watch the two disappear behind the trees, a feeling he was quite familiar with settling in his chest.

        It was three days later, when he saw Y/N approaching the set barriers, hands in her pockets, as she rolled her neck. Their eyes met, and even, from the distance, he could see her smile split apart her face, but when she just waved without the intention of coming any closer to the lot, Harry rushed to the side calling out to her. “Hey!” 

        “Hey!” Y/N responded chuckling and ducking her head down. “You alright?”

        “ ‘M alive. How ‘bout you? You doin’ fine?’”

        “The bar’s so low?”

        “I guess. Won’t be able to get you to nurse me back to health though, which is why I’m in the cold again.”

        She wiggled her eyebrows at Harry. “If you wanted to see me, there's no need to lose limbs or bits of yourself.”

        Harry hadn’t expected her to be so upfront, but he couldn’t lie and say he didn’t like it. Made it easier for him to understand if his advances were welcome or if he should back off. “So uh, no Adam today?”

        “No, he has a late shift at work. Which means I’m spared from the running.”

        “Not a fan?” he looked at her with a quirked brow, seemingly saying ‘you’re sure dressed like you are’.

        “Do I look like someone who likes stabbing pain in her side and having her heart ripped out of her chest?

        “You’re just not breathing properly.”

        Y/N sighed. “If one of you gives me any more advice about how to properly run when I don’t even want to run, I swear I’ll stab you.”

        “Okay!” he threw his hands up in surrender, laughing. “No more talk about running if I wanna keep my head on my shoulders. Where are you uh going? You don’t have to answer, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

        Y/N squealed on the inside, but bit her lip to keep the grin away. She’d been dying to talk to Harry since they’d briefly met but had no real reason. Not that she had one now, but she’d had a horrible day at work and needed to clear her head, and what was better than the forest air (also she could scream there without anyone really caring). “You’re not, so don’t worry. I’m uh I’m going to the sea.”

        Harry’s eyebrows rose. “There’s sea nearby?”

        “You’re like a fifteen-minute walk away from it,” she chuckled, stuffing her hands in her coat’s pockets. “Should really be more aware of your surroundings.”

        “We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

        Y/N tilted her head. “Yeah, you’re kind of right. But it’s places like these where you can find the best spots.”

        “Will you show me then?”

        She looked at him with an unreadable expression, and he could only hope his nervousness wasn’t as apparent, because Harry was more than convinced his erratically beating heart could be heard miles away. But then she nodded, giving him a wide grin, making one of his own bloom on his face. 

“You sure you won’t freeze on your way there?” she said in a sarcastic tone eyeing him up and down, and Harry shoved her a bit.   

        He donned one of the standard down-jackets issued for the movie with winter boots, but given the costume underneath, he was chilled to the bone. “It’s bloody cold, and my toes are freezing off. How are you still standing?”

        “Insulated shoes and thermal clothes. Kinda boiling actually.”

        “I should steal ‘em.” He smiled at her. “Probably have frostbite by now.”

        “Wow, you people from the South UK really are weak.”

        Harry’s gasp made her smile as wide as a Cheshire cat. “How dare you!” He dramatically placed a hand on his chest, Y/N’s laughter erupting through the air. It cut through the yells and shouts from the filming crew, and made a warmth spread in his chest. “How do you know about the South versus North? You don’t sound like you’re from the UK.”

        “Studied there for three years; had loads of flatmates from all around, let alone course mates.” Y/N chuckled and shook her head. “And to say that I thrived on the chaos  was when you said North was better than the South would be an understatement.”

        “Well, I guess I know where your loyalties lie.”

        “Did you expect me to immediately swoon over you?” Y/N batted her eyelashes at him. “Oh, Mr Harry Styles. Your voice in ‘Kiwi’ was so good it fucked me to cloud nine. Will you please do that to me with your dick instead? Which you should take as a compliment again, considering kiwi is the only thing I’m allergic to.”

        “Wait,” he looked at her, eyebrows up to the middle of his forehead. “So you have heard my stuff?”

        “Well, I don’t live completely under a rock. I did say 'Fine Line' was amazing.”

        “But you don’t really like it?”

        Y/N shook her head. “ ‘S not that I don’t like yours or other pop stuff, ‘s just that I have a preference, and I guess it’s, as Adam said, ‘early 2000s shit’.”

        A sly smile appeared on Harry’s face. “But could that include by any chance 'One Direction'?”

        “Afraid not,” Y/N sighed giving him a pout. “When you came onto the scene, my heart was already taken by a boyband. And I can be a lot of things, but I most definitely a loyal bitch.”

        “One band at a time kind of gal?”

        “Exactly.” She beamed. God Harry had never wanted to kiss a person that bad. 

        “Duly noted, but I will need to know who they are, and how many graves do I have to dig? You know, for research purposes.”

        “Going method now?”

        “What’dya mean?”

        Y/N shrugged sniffling a bit from the frosty weather. “Looked up a little bit about the movie. Need to know what kind of people might be around in the area. Psychological thriller. Wife. Rich husband. A dark secret. My guess – someone’s dead and buried. Also, the huge pit we walked past was kind of a give-away.”

        He paused for a second before nodding. “Fair enough.”

        A comfortable silence fell between the two as Y/N motioned with her head to where they needed to turn and made their way onto a new path when she spoke. “ ‘S not that I wasn’t a fan,” Y/N shrugged glancing at Harry from the side. “The songs were really catchy, but I guess I got tired of them? Like they were on the radio so much, it was a relief I didn’t have to hear the five of you singing about how I don’t know I’m beautiful.”

        Harry threw his head back in a laugh. “Don’t worry. Sometimes we’d get sick of it ourselves. But umm, ‘Fine Line’… You said you liked it… Do ya’ have a favourite song?”

        Y/N cringed. “Is it cliché if I say ‘Golden’? Because it’s ‘Golden’. I’m a sucker for a slow and then a ‘bam!’ kind of an opening.”

        Harry shook his head. Now he was the one biting back a grin. “ ‘S not cliché. Was one of my favourites to write, so I’m glad you appreciate it.”

        “Also, it makes me feel sunny? If that makes sense? Like – like when I listen to it, I feel warm and safe and just happy...”

        He’d be lying if he said his heart wasn’t pounding in his chest at her words. Warm. Safe. Sunny. “Well,” Harry cleared his throat to keep the words ‘One day I’ll marry you’ at bay. Fuck, he'd only known her for like twenty minutes! “I’m glad you like it more than my previous stuff.”

        “You just love putting me in uncomfortable situations, don’t you?”

        He smiled, nudging her shoulder with his, and was just about gearing up to take a breath and ask Y/N out (before he could ask to marry her), when quick steps from behind him drew their attention. 

        Dressed in a typical 50s housewife dress with a black coat on top, Florence Pugh came to stand beside them, and Harry swore he saw mischief twinkle in her eyes as she raked them over both people and then settled on Harry’s companion.

        “Hi!” she said giving Y/N a bright smile, and a wink to Harry, which passed the other girl’s head, given how she was absolutely fangirling right now. “I’m Florence.”

        “I – yeah – I – you – I love you,” Y/N finally breathed out. “Fuck, I just, you know, 'Midsommar' was a fever dream, but I absolutely loved it, and I can’t wait for 'Black Widow' to come out. Oh my god, I think I’m gonna pass out.”

        “Please don’t.” She laughed grabbing onto Y/N’s shoulder. “Feels like I already know you, but I’ve been dying to meet you actually. Created quite the commotion yesterday.”

        You know how they say men can think of absolutely nothing, like have a completely blank page in their head? Yeah, Y/N was having that exact moment. 

        Florence tutted crossing her arms over her chest and looking at Harry with mock disappointment. “But Harry here just kept talking about you, without any intention of inviting you to the trailers, so I had to take things into my own hands.”

        “You’ve been wanting to meet me?” Y/N breathed out, hands going into her hair, looking at Harry. “Oh my god, what is happening? Am I hallucinating?”

        “No, you’re not,” Harry grumbled glaring at Florence. “Unfortunately. But we were on our way to the sea, so I’ll see you back on se-“

        “Hello there,” Chris Pine’s smooth voice interrupted them, as he extended a hand for Y/N to shake as he jogged up to the trio. “I’m Chris.”

        “Wow, your eyes are even bluer in real life.” Her own Y/E/C ones widened. “Did I just say that out loud?”

        “You did,” Chris chuckled, “but I most certainly take it as a compliment. You said you were going to the sea?”

        “Uh, yeah,” Y/N breathed out still gazing into Pine’s eyes. “Wanna join?”

        Harry wanted to scream, but he couldn’t really. As much he wanted to tell both Florence and Chris to go away, he didn't. Seeing Y/N’s eyes light up as the two other actors conversed with her, laughed and joked around, made his heart expand.

        It was insane to him, that a woman he’d seen twice in his life could have such a huge impact. It was like she’d been his missing part. Well, no. Harry didn’t like that notion – that the ‘right’ person would complete someone. People were complete on their own, but it was true to him that there was someone out there that’d make each and every moment special, someone who would help the other become better, but also hold them accountable when needed. 

        They wandered around the seashore, which like Y/N had said, was a fifteen-minute walk, for about half an hour before turning back to the woods.

        By that point, she’d somewhat calmed down, and could actually comprehend what Chris and Florence were saying to her, and it was rather enjoyable to ask all the questions about Hollywood and the industry most people wouldn’t say on the record. 

        At around four PM when all of them got back to set and Olivia came to tell them they were wrapping up for the day, Florence, and Chris split from Y/N, telling her to come by whenever she wanted, while Harry said he’d walk her to the end of the trail.

        “You know I’ll be fine. I grew up here, know these paths like the back of my hand.”

        “ ‘S alright,” he shrugged his shoulders. “I’m sure they won’t mind much if I come back ten minutes later.”

        “You know, you’re not how I thought you’d be.”

        “What’dya mean?”

        “I – I don’t even really know… just not how I imagined you.”

        Harry didn’t know what to really do with that information, but the look on Y/N’s face most definitely didn’t seem like she meant it in a bad way. In fact, her shy smile and fleeting glances told him otherwise. At least he hoped he read her features right.

        They said goodbye with soft ‘see you laters' and he watched her throw one last glance at him over her shoulder before he himself retreated and ventured to the trailers to start de-shedding the character of Jack for the night.

        Harry plopped down in his seat with a groan, fishing out his phone from the pocket while the hair and make-up team did their work, taking the products off his face before applying moisturiser to the stressed skin.

        Florence poked him in the cheek, and he swatted away at her hand, looking up from Instagram (or his attempts to find Y/N with just knowing her first name). “What’s wrong?” she asked, poking his pouting face again.

        “She literally fangirled about everyone but me.” He huffed sliding down even further in his seat. 

        Florence raised an eyebrow. “Jealous, Styles?”

        “No,” he scoffed crossing his arms. “Why would I be jealous?”

        “Because literally both mornings that we've got here, you’ve been fidgety, keeping a watch of the path, and didn't calm down until Y/N appeared just now. So I’d say you’re absolutely smitten with the girl and are jealous because she’s more of a fan of us than you.”

        “I know she likes me.” His eyebrows furrowed. “I think. She hasn’t told me to fuck off.”

        “She’s a stranger you met in the middle of the woods. You should hope she likes you. But not too much. Otherwise, it could so easily become a scene out of a horror movie.”

        Chris bit his lip looking at Olivia, who’d come in the trailer after having seen the group come back with an almost heartbroken gaze – it was clear as a summer’s day Harry was struck by the girl, but they had to face the music. “Harry,” he started. “You – you do realise we end filming here in two weeks, right? And she’s a local.”

        “And?” his eyebrows furrowed at Chris’ words.

        “You’ll be leaving in two weeks for another three months of filming, while she stays here. I don’t – I don’t want to see you hurt, but you have to realise that most likely nothing will happen.”

        “And what makes you say that? Maybe she could come with.”

        “Y/N is her own person with her own life, job and friends, which, as it seems is all set here.”

        “Besides you don't really even know her,” Olivia said as well. “It's been two days."

        “Sometimes a day is enough.”

        A silence settled over them, as Harry tapped his phone against his nails.

        “You guys, come on!” Florence came to his defence. “He likes her. Why not give it a shot?”

He'd flashed her a thankful smile and mouthed a 'thank you' to which she just gave him an encouraging nod. She was on his side. She believed he could do it. And he did. Using Florence's faith in him as a catalyst, a day later when Y/N had gone on her run with Adam, Harry had excused himself and joined the two. 

        Adam was thrilled to the bone, but he was also competitive, so after ten minutes of trying to persuade the woman to run faster so he could beat his previous time, he took off on his own, with a promise of meeting up by the shore. That’s when Harry grabbed Y/N by her bicep and stalled them both, confusion written all over her features.

        “I uh,” he started. “I wanted to ask you something.”

        “Yeah, sure. Go ahead.”

        “I – “ he stuttered taking in a deep breath. “I – uh – and you have zero obligations to respond, but uh – I was wondering if you’d like to go on a date with me sometime?”

        That made Y/N do a double-take. “You want to go out? On a date? With me?”

        “Ye – yeah.” It was uncertain how the word came out, but it felt so good to say it. “Yes, I really do.”

        “Sorry.” She shook her head looking at the ground with furrowed brows. “Sorry’s just, kinda hard to believe it.”

        “ ‘Nd why’s that?”

        “Well because the first time we met, I looked like a sweaty mess, the second, I could barely function around your friends and co-workers, and now, well now I look like a sweaty mess again.”

        “So?”

        “I just –” Y/N laughed but waved him off. “Never mind.”

         Fear instantly took hold of his core at her statement, so he rushed to salvage what could be salvaged. “No, I mean if you don’t want, you - you don’t have to say ‘yes’. I’m not gonna be upset or any –“

        “Harry!” This time Y/N placed her hand on his shoulder to stop his ramblings. “I’d love to go on a date with you.”

        “You – you would?”

        “Yes.” Her smile blinded him like the golden rays of sun which broke through the overcast sky. “I’d like to very much so.”

        But it was Y/N’s tearful huff, a storm cloud compared to the warm light from his memories, which brought him out of the fond thoughts and into the icy right now.

        “Because unless it revolves around Harry Styles, it doesn’t matter, right?” she let out a pained laugh. “Because unless he’s there to have all the spotlight on him, it’s not important. Unless it’s not something he wants to take part in, it immediately needs to be cancelled or rescheduled because god forbid someone made plans without him.”

        He grunted in disagreement. “You know that’s not what I meant!”

        “No,” she snapped, snatching her purse and coat. “I get it. Very clearly. I’ll show myself out.”

        “Don’t be so dramatic!”

        She scoffed, glaring at him. “Call me when you get your head out of your ass.”

        The door slammed shut, and Harry sat down onto the sofa to scream into a pillow.

***

        Y/N’s sight was blurry as she drove down the street. A light snow had started to fall over London, so she was twice as careful, knowing Londoners had zero clue how to function when snow hit, and no one had winter tires.

        “Fuck,” she choked out, wiping away at her cheeks.

        She’d had fights with Harry before, it wasn’t like they were perfect. From the outside they looked like nothing could ever be wrong, but they were human. They had flaws and tempers and ideas and beliefs, and sometimes they clashed, but it’d never been as bad as it was that night. 

        She loved Harry, Y/N truly did. She’d even had dreams of the two of them in some far-off cottage in the Italian mountains living a domestic life, but she also just wanted one night to herself. To let loose and think about her own needs and wants, while Harry was away doing the same. It wasn’t selfish, not in her mind. 

        It’d been her who’d uprooted her whole life to be closer to Harry, not the other way around. She was always the one cancelling and making new plans with her family or friends just so she could spend a spare second with Harry. She was there for his sleepless nights and there for his knock-out concerts. Why couldn't he let her have this one thing?

        She was sitting by the wheel at a red light taking in deep breaths to calm herself down. 

        The light turned green, and her hand was slightly shaking as she changed gears.

        Y/N released the clutch and pressed down on the gas.

        Two lights came rushing from the side.

        She gasped.

        A sharp pain went through her side.

        And then it was all black.

***

Anne was going to rip Harry a new one, as she rang him for the fifteenth time, but he still didn't pick up. After the accident and the nurses being unable to contact Harry, they obviously called Y/N’s parents which were next on the emergency contact's list, but given how they lived outside of the UK and the next flight was only in four days, they immediately reached out to Anne, begging for her to go be with their daughter while they got there.

“And please tell Harry to fly over as well!” Y/N’s mum had cried. “I – I know he has work, but please.”

Anne had been shocked to hear Y/M/N ask that, having assumed he was already there, but she wasn’t going to let them get to Harry before she set him straight herself. 

In the beginning, she’d been kind of sceptical, but after spending an evening together where Y/N, her and Gemma all did wine baking, and it had ended up in a disaster in the kitchen with the three of them crying from laughter while Harry stood at the entrance completely baffled and just so done with them, Anne knew Y/N only had good intentions with her son.

        Anne’s love for her only grew from that point on, when she also realised just how much Y/N’s love language was giving. It wasn’t the kind of ‘hey, look, I bought you some fancy thing, now love me’, it was ‘hey, I saw how much you wanted this, I noticed how much it’d mean to you, and I love how happy it makes you. And if it reminds you of me, that’s just a bonus’, and Anne couldn’t help but become as protective of Y/N as her own kids. 

        But at that moment, as finally, after her twenty-seventh attempt, Harry picked up with a gruff ‘ ‘ello?’, Anne was about to burst with rage.

“You get to the hospital right now!” she hissed into the phone.

“What are you talking about?” There was a tremble in his voice. 

The thing was, for two days since Y/N had stormed out, Harry’d been feeling sick. He thought it was due to the stress from the fight and from the pressure his label was putting on him, but now he understood it wasn’t that. It was his instinct telling him something bad had happened, and at Anne’s words, the bad feeling that’d settled in his stomach made his blood run cold. “Mum, what’s wrong?”

“Y/N was in a car accident, and you didn’t bother to pick up your phone.”

“I –” He stammered unable to process her words. “What? Mum? No…”

“You’re her emergency contact,” Anne spoke. “The hospital tried to call you a billion times, and you didn’t pick up.” 

And that’s when he remembered all of those calls from unknown numbers. He thought they’d been some crazed fans who’d gotten his personal number, so he’d just blocked them. “Mum, no.” Harry choked out. “I didn’t mean to – we fought – mum…”

“She’s at St. Helen’s. Please get here.”

He immediately ended the call, and in the span of twenty minutes was at the hospital, which Anne was sure to scold him for because there was no way in hell anyone who didn’t speed would be able to get to St. Helen’s in less than forty minutes. The second she saw her son burst through the door, tear tracks down his face, all the anger and disappointment vanished. 

“Where is she? Is she alive? Y/N!” he yelled across the hallway. “Where is she? Mum! Where’s Y/N?”

“Gem.” She patted her daughter’s knee as both of them stood up from where they’d been sitting at the chairs outside the recovery room assigned to Y/N. “Get a nurse, please.”

Gemma didn’t need an explanation or reasoning seeing Harry’s wild eyes, erratic breathing and shaky hands. 

“Mum!” He practically sprinted after seeing the woman, grabbing her by the shoulders.

“Calm down, Harry,” she shushed him, pulling him in for a hug and feeling his whole body tremble. “Calm down, it’s alright. Gem’ll get you some help, but you need to breathe.”

“I – I’m not the one who needs help!” Harry pretty much screamed. “I need to know if my girlfriend is alive.”

Anne spoke in a calm voice as to not agitate him even more, and her heart broke at the sight of her son so utterly broken. “Harry, you’re about to have a panic attack, and you’re no use to Y/N in that kind of state.”

“So.” He took in a chocked back breath. “So she’s alive?” He didn’t know what he’d do if the answer was anything else but a resounding ‘yes’. There was no version in his brain of where his life could possibly lead but down if he had to go on without Y/N.

“Yes,” Anne nodded, smoothing his hair away from his face, and watching as he took in a deep breath of relief. “She was just wheeled in for her second surgery. Should be out in about four hours. ”

All over again his insides froze. “Second? Mum, tell me the truth – how bad is it?”

“Harry, this is routine,” Gemma put a reassuring hand on his shoulder having returned with a nurse behind her, the man keeping a close eye on Harry and his behaviour. “They did as much as they could the first time, but their priority was on the worst injuries. This one is just to set things properly.”

“Set everything right like – “

“Like bones and stuff…” Gemma shuddered, trailing off. “Y/N broke her hip, dislocated her kneecap, her ankle was shattered and she fractured her collarbone. They took her in so that the bones could be properly placed together and there’s a lesser chance of complications not only while healing but later on in life. But can you please sit down? So they can help you as well?”

“I – alright,” he conceded, taking a place on one of the stiff plastic benches, as the nurse came to him, took his pulse, gave him an inhalator just in case and some herbal tablets to help him relax a bit.

“You said they focused on the worst injuries.” Harry looked at his mother. “What were those?”

Anne sighed, leaning to sit back on the chair next to him and ran a hand through his hair. “A piece of debris punctured one of her kidneys. The bleeding was pretty intense, but they say it was salvageable, so she’ll still have both of them. Gem donated some blood.”

“Thank you,” Harry whispered, looking over at his sister who wiped a stray tear away from his cheek.

She shook her head. “There’s nothing to thank me for. Y/N is family. If she’d lost the kidney, I’d give her mine in a second.”

“The worst they’re worried about is the head injuries,” Anne said. “Luckily, she got away without anything major, but she definitely has a concussion and minor whiplash to her neck, so they want to keep an eye out for any side effects that could arise. They have another surgery scheduled for her in a week if recovery goes as planned. To take the stitches that won’t dissolve out and put in the ones that will.”

        Harry sagged against his mother’s side, her palms soothingly running up and down his back. “She’s gonna be alright, love,” Anne muttered in his hair, pressing a kiss to his temple. “She’s strong. She’ll be okay.”

        It was comforting for both of them – for Anne to have her youngest in her arms, to know he was safe and sound, and for Harry to be held by his mother, the person who always knew how to comfort him when times were rough, and at that moment, they were the roughest they’d ever been.

        “You’ve got some nerve to be here.” Adam’s seething voice pulled Harry away from his mother’s embrace and watched as he rounded the corner with a coffee cup. He was quite sure he was keeping his temper well in check from how hard he was gripping the Styrofoam cup. “Fucking ignore her for two days while she’s laying in the hospital, and appear when it’s convenient for you? Is she some fucking toy for you to use when you want?”

        Anne’s tone was consoling and pleading. “He didn’t know.”

        “The hell he didn’t, he just didn’t want to know! They called you!” Adam pointed at the nurse’s desk. “And you let them go to voicemail. And then, better yet, you fucking blocked the number.”

        “I didn’t know it was the hospital,” he weakly defended himself.

        “Because you didn’t bother to find out.”

        He didn’t have anything to say to that. And not that he really could think of anything when the surgery ward’s doors swung open and they watched as a nurse wheeled Y/N’s gurney back inside the room, while another wheeled her saline bag along with. 

It was a terrifying sight to see. Her face was basically nothing but a swollen piece of flesh, bruises and scratches littering her cheeks, a neck brace to keep her head from moving while one leg was wrapped in a full-on cast, the other in one up until her knee and her left arm was in a sling.

        He’d had nightmares about her before. Most of the times it was about Y/N leaving him because she could no longer do it, could no longer commit to the hectic lifestyle that came with Harry, and as he screamed, banging on the invisible window that separated them, she just walked away, his sobs carried by the wind in the other direction.

        “You should go inside,” Anne whispered motioning with her head to where the nurses checked the monitors and how stable Y/N was. “I know you had a fight, but she’ll want you to be there when she wakes up.”

        “How,” Harry gulped back the lump that’d risen in his throat. “How do you know? How do you know she doesn’t want me to just disappear? I wasn’t there when she needed me, I was – “

        Anne put her hand on his cheek. “Because when she woke up yesterday morning for the first time, you were the first person she asked for. You. She wants you there. And it’s the least you can do for her.”

        He nodded, then took a deep breath and entered Y/N’s room. Watching her lay in the bed, unmoving, without her usual grumpy features as she slept, made Harry sick to the stomach so much so, he thought he’d have to call back the nurse.

        It was some twisted version of Sleeping Beauty, yet he knew a true loves kiss wouldn’t awaken her. Y/N just laid there, small breaths making her chest rise and fall, not even a flutter of her eyelids.

        Harry had spent countless night watching her sleep, looking at how her lashes fluttered as she dreamed of something; how her forehead creased and small, incoherent noises passed her lips as she talked to someone in her mind.

        Now, he was surrounded by none of that, only artificial reminders that she was still alive and fighting to get better.

        With uneven steps, Harry made his way to the chair which’d been stationed next to her bed (he was convinced beyond belief that Gemma, his mum and Adam had all taken shifts to sit there, to be there for Y/N), and much like a king who knew he was unfit for the throne, Harry had to swallow a lump as he took the seat.

        “I – I don’t know if you can hear me…” Harry took hold of Y/N’s palm and let out a sob of relief when he felt it was warm, not cold like he’d feared. “But I’m here for you. I’m not leaving. Not unless you want me to, so until you wake up…” there were so many words, so many apologies he wanted to say, but kept them at bay. Y/N deserved to hear them when she was conscious, so instead, he said, “I’m here, lovie. Get some rest, I’ll be here…”

        With that he put his head on the side of her bed, twisting his face so he could look up at her, watch her chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm, and fell asleep to the sound the beeps of Y/N’s beating heart.

        While he slept he dreamt again, the same terrifying dream of Y/N leaving, only this time she did look back at him, but her face was all wrong, her neck bent in a way it shouldn’t be, and eyes covered in a milky white. 

        “You weren’t there, Harry,” she said in a voice void of emotions. “So why should I be there for you?”

        Harry was 100% sure if he’d been hooked up to a heart rate monitor while he slept, people would think he was going into cardiac arrest, but it sure would’ve shown it flatlining as his green eyes swept over his lover’s frame to check his nightmare hadn’t become a reality, only to be met with two Y/E/C sparkling orbs looking back at him, giving him the softest gaze in the universe.

“Hey,” Harry’s tone was quiet, afraid to bring even the littlest of discomfort to Y/N given her state, and he had to physically restrain himself from sweeping down to bring her in a hug. 

What he saw on her face made his heart leap to his throat, as she smiled, genuinely happy to see him, lifting up her right hand, the only limb without a bandage on to cup his cheek. “Hey, love.” Her voice was scratchy like nails on a chalkboard, but to Harry, it was an absolute symphony. “Are you alright? Your eyes are puffy. Have you been getting enough sleep?”

        “Fuck,” Harry choked on his tears looking up at the white ceiling before back at her, complete disbelief in his blood-shot eyes. “You’re the one lying in a hospital bed, with casts and bandages all over you, scheduled for a third surgery, and you’re asking me if I’m alright?”

        If Y/N could, she would’ve shrugged as if that wasn’t the most self-explanatory thing in the world. “I’ll always want to know if you’re alright. ‘S not exclusively you that can care for people, you know.”

        And there she was – his sarcastic, allergic-to-kiwi-but-‘Kiwi’-loving girl that never ceased to amaze him, as she made sure everyone else was alright before herself. And that made Harry break down. 

“I’m so sorry Y/N. So fucking sorry. I – god – I – there are not enough words in any language to say how fucking sorry I am. I should’ve been here, should’ve never let you leave. This is all my fault.”

Through all that, through his choked back sobs and crying, Y/N’s hand had steadily remained on his cheek, wiping away the tears from underneath one eye before switching to the other side and making the little pearls of hurt disappear with just her touch. 

“Harry, are you the weatherman?”

That was not what he thought she would say. “I – what?”

“Do you control temperatures and have not told me?”

“N – no?”

“Were you the guy who ran the red light?”

“No.”

        “Then how is this your fault?”

        “I – “ he stammered. “I shouldn’t have let you leave. I should’ve gone after you, found a way to make you stay or – or should’ve fucking stopped being so selfish and driven you to see Adam yourself.”

        “Harry, had you tried to make me stay nothing would’ve changed.” Y/N sighed letting him lean into her touch, as she bit her lip, thinking over her words. “I was just so pissed, that I think anything you would’ve tried to do, would’ve only made it worse. And I’d rather be here with you than alone in my apartment crying in a tub of Hagen Dazs because of a broken heart.”

        “You-you've got your priorities completely backwards.” He wasn’t laughing when he said that, but Y/N was.

        “Maybe.” She raised her eyebrow. “But I don’t think so. The bones will heal, but the amount of love I have for you… I’m afraid you’ve ruined the thought of a future without you in it. We’ll talk,” Y/N swallowed hard. “We need to talk, but when I get better. Right now, I just wanna hold your hand and have you hold mine as I try not to kick the nurses trying to take my blood for tests.”

        It felt inappropriate for Harry to smile, to feel happy about how Y/N hadn’t told him to go screw himself, even though he felt like he deserved it, but fuck was it impossible not to when his body felt so light, and her love chose to invade the dark corners of his mind to fill it with golden warmth.

        She fell asleep not long after their small conversation, body too tired and in need of recovery, but like he’d promised, he was there for her when she awoke again, this time to a more familiar Y/N as she glared at the coffee cup in his hand, while he sipped, a ring clad palm gently pushing away strands of Y/H/C hair from her face.

        “I hate that you can drink coffee.”

        “Yeah, and why’s that?”

        “Because I can’t.”

        “I’ll happily buy you as many coffees as you like. Once you get better and are allowed to, of course.”

        Y/N snorted and then winced as the action caused pain to shoot through her body. “Knowing you, it won’t be a cup of coffee or a coffee machine, but a fucking coffee chain restaurant.”

        “Would it be that bad to own one?”

        Her eyebrow rose at him in an incredulous look. “You know I can’t bake. Coffee shops include pastries, and I’m not the one who worked in a bakery. I can cook, I can clean, but make me make muffins from scratch, and I’ll set your house on fire.”

        “You already did.” Harry laughed. “Gem and mum helped.”

        “They supplied the wine, so I’m putting 60% of the blame on them.”

        “You do realise that equates to 30% of the blame on each of them, and most of it is still on you?”

        “Shut up,” Y/N smiled, weakly pushing against Harry’s arm, but the motion made him happy to know she was trying. “I was just in a car crash, so forgive me for not being that great at division.”

        A knock at the door made Harry look up, Y/N not even attempting to turn her head to see who’d interrupted them, given how the first time she’d tried it with the neck-brace, it’d hurt so bad she’d passed out.

        Her doctor was a man in his mid to late fifties with greying hair, Y/N’s medical record file slapped underneath his arm.

        “How are we doing today?”

        “Better than yesterday, I guess,” she responded. 

        “Well, you were out for most of it, so I’d say so.”

        Y/N and the doctor chuckled, but Harry didn’t, as he thought of how bad, how absolutely tired a person has to be to sleep for a whole day. He’d had those days himself, and that was from being exhausted from work. He couldn't imagine what being in a bloody accident would feel like. 

        The doctor stepped forward a bit and extended a hand to Harry, introducing himself as Dr Tate, while Harry rose in his seat to accept it, but not wanting to move away an inch from Y/N.

        “You must be the boyfriend.”

        “I – uh – I can only hope I still am,” he let out a nervous giggle, which made his girlfriend slap his arm, a furrow on her face.

        Dr Tate looked Harry over from head to toe, eyebrow raised at that, but all he said was, “We tried to contact you, seeing as you’re Miss Y/L/N emergency contact, but the nurses said it couldn’t go through.”

        “He was filming overseas.” Y/N butted in, clearly having rehearsed what to say beforehand. “Flew over as fast as he could. I’m the luckiest person in the world.” Her tone was soft as a feather, but Harry’s stomach felt like it was filled with rocks. 

        “Is there anything I can help with?” he asked hoping to be given some sort of a task to do, to allow him to redeem himself some way.

        “Well, actually yes. One of the injuries Ms Y/L/N sustained was a concussion,” the doctor said, “which could lead to some complications like headaches, migraines, spotty vision or amnesia.”

“Amnesia?” Harry wanted to vomit. It had crossed his mind, but having a professional say it made it all so much worse. 

        “Yes, and we’d need someone to be with her as much as possible, 24/7 would be desirable, to keep an eye on.”

        Harry honestly hadn’t heard anything past the amnesia part, mind spinning in a circle that just screamed ‘she’ll forget all about you’.

“It’s nothing to worry about too much.” Dr Tate was quick on his feet, seeing Harry’s blank stare, and tried to diffuse any possible spiralling. “With Y/N’s cognitive abilities and having repeatedly excelled at the test without a single stutter, it’s very unlikely she’ll have those side effects. 

“But it’s still a possibility, right?”

The doctor nodded, giving Harry a kind smile. “Which is why I’m informing you of it. To keep an eye out to see if anything changes so you could come in if necessary. But as I said – Y/N’s memory has proven to be intact so far. And I always say to trust the facts.”

“Harry,” Y/N placed her hand on his. “You know I won’t forget you.”

“I’ll uh, give you two a second.” The doctor exited leaving them alone, an almost sad silence over both of them. 

“God I almost lost you to some idiot running a red light with no winter tires, and now you won’t remember me. And – and even with everything you’re going through, you’re still trying to protect me? Why did you lie? I – I wouldn’t have cared if you said the truth that I was an asshole.” Harry dragged both hands over his face, trying to keep the cry’s at bay as Y/N ran her hand through his hair in an attempt to calm him down.

“I’d prefer to think,” Y/N shrugged trying to tease him and make him crack a smile, “me being dead would be the worst-case scenario, not me forgetting you. And of course, I’ll protect you. Your reputation matters to me. Just because we had a fight doesn’t mean I’ll immediately run to everyone I can and say how shitty of a person you were in those specific ten minutes.”

But Harry’s lips didn’t quirk up, the tears didn’t disappear as the painful grimace on his face wasn’t replaced by the crow lines next to his eyes from smiling so much. “What if you – what if you forget you love me? What do I do then? I know I sound selfish and like the biggest fucking dick, but as pathetic as it is – I can’t go on without you. I don’t know how I could.”

Y/N’s heart broke at his words because if the roles were reversed if Harry forgot about her and fell out of love, she didn't know how she'd survive. She’d had those fears before, when he was away filming and she couldn’t follow; she’d been terrified because what they’d had was so new, he could easily move on, find someone better, someone who was familiar with his lifestyle. But any time those thoughts came to her mind, Y/N reminded herself of what she’d do. And that’s what she told Harry.

        “Then you make me fall in love with you again. You’re great at that. Make me love you more with every passing moment.”

        “And – and if you don’t fall in love with me again?”

        Y/N shook her head. “Impossible, Harry. You made me fall in love with you after barely two hours spent together. And well, if you put your mind to it… who knows how much deeper I’ll fall.”

        For the first time in two days, Harry leaned down and pressed his lips against Y/N’s. The kiss was soft and sweet, a barely-there touch, but it meant everything. It was a promise to one another to love unconditionally, to remind the other of it at every passing moment; it sealed their future to be spent together, and neither wanted it any other way.

        Harry’s phone rang, eliciting a whine from Y/N as he pulled away to answer it. “It’s Florence.” He pecked her lips one more time. “I’ll just tell her to call back.”

        He turned to the side for a second muttering a soft ‘hey, can you –‘ before whatever Florence told him made him pull away and extend the deivice towards Y/N.

        “It’s for you.”

        “For – for me? Florence is calling me?”

        Had the two women become friends? Yes. But didn’t mean Y/N had an easier time not fangirling about her. 

        “Hi, Flo,” she breathed out, looking at Harry with wide, happy eyes. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

        Harry sat there watching as his love talked to someone she looked up to, and someone he cared about. He hadn’t told Florence, but her encouragement meant the world to him, as she was partially the reason he’d gotten together with Y/N. After all, she’d been the one on his side from the very beginning.

        Y/N giggled like a crazy person after the call ended and she handed Harry back his phone. “Florence Pugh just called to give me well wishes.” She gasped looking at Harry. “Do you think Chris Pine will too?”

        “God, I love you,” Harry laughed with her, pressing their foreheads together.

        They’d be alright, they’d make sure of it. No matter if a disagreement arose, egos needed to be put in check or black ice covered the roads. They’d get through anything. 

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64​ @supernaturalbaesduh​ @breezy1415​ @crazy--me​ @thatawkwardlittlefangirl​ @sea040561​ @staryeyedgirl​ @deathbyarabbit​ @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91​ @dalilx​ @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns​ @averyrogers83​ @in-the-end-im-still-trash​ @gallifreyansass​ @dewy-biitch​ @avxgers​ @unlikelygalaxygiver​ @magicwithaknife​ @ollyoxenfrees​ @bnhvrdy​ @tvwhoresblog​ @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue​ @im-squished​

Harry Styles tags: @sarcasticallywitty15​ @breezykpop​ @girlboss99​ @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist​ @alliyjane​ @sirtommyholland​

A/N: Listen, Linda, those pictures of Harry on set does things!!!

Also the being allergic to kiwi - that’s me. Like legit it’s the only thing I’m allergic to. I always hated how they tasted like pain, like it made my mouth sting and feel like pins and needles before going numb, and according to professionals, that’s a sign of being allergic. But I love ‘Kiwi’ the song. 

P.S. my tags are always open :)

P.S.S. I don’t take requests, sorry :(

[ginwhitlock]

summary: human!JASPER/ human!BELLA. Bella is called to deliver day supplies to a very tired and mostly lost 1st Regiment Calvary, headed by no other than Major Jasper Whitlock. What will the two do once left alone to go over maps of the Tennessee hills?

fic type: oneshot, SMUT 18+

warnings: is set in the civil war, which means Jasper is a soldier in the confederacy literally only because he’s from Texas I promise, it would’ve been weird to make him union and apart of the Texas Calvary as that wasnt a union regiment, I do not support the confederacy or any of its beliefs, its just part of his backstory and this fic is centered directly in his human life (the confederacy itself is not mentioned in detail, it is just alluded to the fact). This is a smut fic but not hardcore in anyway so be warned. Oh also I made Bella and Emmett siblings. Of course. 

She almost broke his nose kissing him.

She almost shattered bone and cartilage clicking their teeth together, enamel scraping enamel.

She almost caved in the center of his face so she could lick the insides of his molars, separate his jaws to find the pit of his throat, dangle her self righteousness by his uvula.

And to think she almost didn’t go out that morning.

Isabella Marie was the kind of pretty you didn’t see right away. The layers of fine muscle and fragile skin hiding the richness of her blood-red cheeks, crisp even in the horrible heat of August. And with that heat came hot headed Calvary men with unlined coat pockets and a hunger for pretty little girls.

She met Major Whitlock three miles outside of town, the local preacher sending her out to their camp with as many baskets as her daddy’s two mules could hold on their hips. She was flushed, the slot of her breastbone slick with afternoon sweat— her riding boots did nothing but slosh around with her pale feet inside, leather no match for Tennessee mountain hidin weather.

Maybe she should’ve dropped ice down her shift. Maybe she should’ve played dead and waited for God to put her on her ass.

The thin brunette was graced with the presence of an even skinner red head the moment Stubborn Ass’s (as she affectionally called her steed in private) hooves entered the temporary camp. The mans hair fell limply in front of his eyes which were slightly sunken, the blue of his irises molting into a starved shade of dust. His lips were worse. Once pink and slightly plump, now skinny and cracked with the less than dusty air.

“Is this the 1st Regiment Calvary? From Texas?” Her voice was strained and feverish, salt dripping off her Cupid’s bow.

The man nodded and offered a hand, “Names Sargent Henry Arquette. Nice to see you Miss, the boys haven’t been able to get any supplies up here for days,” Bella grasped his hand tightly, afraid her unskilled balance would come into play, and forced her weight down to the ground ungracefully, “you’re the sheriffs daughter, right miss?” His smile seemed correct handing off his skinny face, his teeth crooked and off centered, but sweet. She quirked her lip in return.

“Yes Sargent, I seem to be your supply wagon today. There’s more back in town but I was told you wouldn’t be in for a day or so.” Flushed and overdressed, that’s how she felt. Every second.

Henry took in the view of the well fed half breeds and gestured off handedly, something she would come to learn was an action he didn’t even notice he performed. “Day. Days. Who knows until we ration it. These trails are less trails and more raccoon paths. I’m just waiting to see why the hell we’ve been sent so far east to begin with.” He had no recognition what was proper to say in front of the young lady at his side, the year had been sucked dry of any feminine… life, to say lightly. A piece of his brain nudged him for speaking so plainly, but Bella never once looked offended and twitched her head in both sympathy and understanding. She had been raised in these hills. She knew their damnation like the back of her hand. Maybe even the back of her skull.

“I’ve heard about raids up in McMinnville. Bases and such lining up and down the mountain. My brother’s part of the 16th Regiment Calvary up there actually, you know. Things are heating up in our little slice of the world.” The little thing spoke like a sparrow, her nose pointed and soft, the bottom of her front teeth pillowing into her bottom lip. At the age of seventeen she seemed somehow both grounded and unsure.

The south was ripping itself apart. And she— and the Sargent, knew it.

Bella could see the redhead start to comment on her brothers hand me down gossip when a giant of a man— boy? Man? Definitely man, by the looks of his muscled shoulders and high jaw, the darkened cast shifting just under the skin of his cheeks, the low dip of a scar just below his brow— a brow which furrowed, twisted, and arched back up into his tanned forehead when he noticed the mules waiting restlessly, tails swinging behind a girl in a kinder man's idea of a dress and interrupted the lower soldiers train of thought.

“You must be Miss Isabella McCarty. I spoke to your father when we arrived last night.” Clipped and forward were his words, his hand outstretched in front of him, decorated in mis-matched freckles and calluses she could feel pressing into the column of her throat as she placed her small palm in his. “Major Jasper Whitlock, at your assistance.”

No smile graced his face but by God she would witness his lips stretch over his teeth if it was the last thing she ever did.

Still with her hand in his she whispered “You can call me Bella. Or Bella Marie. Or Isabella Marie oh or my mother calls me Belle or sometimes when my father is upset with me he calls me Marie McCarty like my grandmother used to and um..” her tongue had to have swelled to the size of a watermelon in the three seconds it took to look him in the eyes— the swamp green eyes in fact. Eyes the color of duckweed and marigold stems and whatever leaves would stick to the blackberries in the spring.

He laughed. And it sounded like a white flag waving in her insides. Back and forth. Back and forth.

Maybe the preacher was a righteous man after all.

“I like Isabella Marie. Miss Isabella Marie.” Like rain drops on a tin ceiling.

The Arquette boy looked between the two before edging towards the black mules “Any orders where to put these, Major?” Skinny lips. Skinny spine.

Jasper had finally looked up from the strawberry cheeked girl in front of him, released their hands, and knocked his head backwards, towards the other soldiers checking tents and cleaning their own horses.

“Just take em back to the storage tent. Not like it’ll be competing for space.” The Major looked back at his men “Calhoun, Jennings, help Arquette move these rations will you? Make yourself useful for once.” His voice didn’t have to boom and condense like a rung out air horn, the cool of his vocal cords carried and personally plucked the not yet men from their activities and dragged them towards the group of three. Like some sort of magic act.

Bella was far from resigned. “So Major Whitlock, what would you like me to do?” Hopeful eyes, always searching to please. Or to piss off— as Emmett always scorned.

An upturn of lips flashed through Jaspers face and he looked to the sky for a mere moment “Mind helping me sort out some of my maps back in camp? My backwoods knowledge ain’t as sharp as my Houston kind and you seem like an expert in this area, getting yourself up to us all alone.” Bella’s feet started to move on instinct towards the felted wool tent covering a hundred or so feet behind the large man, but his hand stopped her at the shoulder, “And, if you don’t mind, would you be my guide back to town this evening? I’ve got to scout the path for the boys to pull through by the end of this week.”

She should’ve thought longer about it, linger over his words, the way his tongue flicked over his canines and brushed noticeably at the edge of his front teeth. But she didn’t. Not now. Not when the time it would’ve taken could pick at the carefully constructed wall built specifically for boys with serpent tongues. And lion hands. And bear teeth and… he still waiting for her response.

A shake to her head “Of course Major. If you’ll help me bring the mules back home, you’d be more help to me than I think I’d ever be to you.”

He could taste her self doubt. And he didn’t like it.

A jut of his brow led them through the ragged campsite, broken down cinders coating the bottom of her unusually worn boots, the lace of her dress clashing horribly with the scent of charred flesh and resting wounds. If only she knew a doctor. If only the town still had one.

His tent was one of the stronger ones, every inch placated with the spine of a book or a map binder or a drape of letters. He needed a desk and a real bed and maybe someone to make sure he stayed warm during the mountain nights.

Jaspers hands found a tiny stack of drawn maps and laid them over his now folded lap on the ground. Bella swiftly found her place at his bended knee and ran a finger over the torn edge. “These look older than my father. It doesn’t even mark the trail you follow to town.” The squishy flesh of her thumb traced an invisible oil line through the mountain and deposited itself in a town with seemingly no name, according to the parchment. “That’s home. If you’re following these maps I don’t quite understand how you ever got here.” Her eyes were full, engorged on road markers and faded city names.

Jasper softly nodded, their heads just inches from each other as she leaned in to scour the map. He had barely gotten to the camp they were in, his right hand Henry doing nearly all of the sight work. He’d be a hell of a tracker if he was a bloodhound. The blond almost chucked at the thought of Henry with big floppy mutt ears, yelping at the pretty girl almost in Jasper’s lap.

Her hair was like a chocolate waterfall. The good chocolate that mama got sent to her from her sister up north, the kind that was broken off continuously, piece after piece fed to him and his sisters until nothing was left.

Part of him wanted to see if she tasted as sweet.

He’d blame it on how damn long it’s been since he’s smelled anything other than soured sores and gunpowder. Even if Miss Isabella Marie smelled good enough to eat. Good enough to take like a man starved. And God— Jasper hungered like no other.

“There’s a river through the valley here, if you can find yourself through the woods.” Bella had found a piece of graphite and drawn in the harsh line of a hidden waterway just a mile or so from camp. She looked up at him as she spoke, her eyes warmly whiskey colored through her lashes.

His mouth clenched. “How old are you Miss McCarty?”

She blinked rapidly, like coming out of a daze. “Seventeen.”

Her hand dropped the instrument to the paper and draw up to his knee, the covered bone sharp under her knuckles.

“Do you have a boy at home waiting for you, Miss McCarty?” Hot air blew from his mouth to hers like a heatwave. Like a curse.

Bella’s lips formed a small “No” as she slid her small hand up the Major’s thigh, her singular ring gliding like margarine inch my inch as the seconds ticked by, each breath marking the two closer.

“Do you have a wife, Major?” Only whisper escaped her rosebud mouth, his face turning downwards, noses only separated by spirit.

“I was too busy waiting for you, it seems, Miss Bella.”

Her heart thumped her chest hard enough to make her ears ring.

Bella’s fist jumped from Jasper’s thigh to his army issued button up and crushed his chest to her own, her lips finding purchase slotted against his, the force clinking their front teeth together without care. His hands were gripping the roots of her soft waves, their skulls as close as their skin would let them. She wanted more, more, the heat suffocating the tent from more than the August sun. Her thin fingers slipped easily through the button gaps as his tongue invaded the privacy of her mouth. A horrible demented part of her brain screamed ‘Take, Take, Take. Mark me down and climb into the spaces that were meant to fit just us.’ Her brother had always called her too much of a dreamer. Too much of a poet and a believer and an artist. But God. This man was in her hands and she felt like a masterpiece.

A man she hardly knew.

But somehow, the scrape of his knuckles against her soon to be bare thighs felt like they had known each other at birth. Like Texas and Tennessee were just minutes from each other. As if they were the only bodies in the whole entire war.

Jasper’s hands were of no gentleman’s when he unfastened the ribbons holding her skirt to her waist, the under coat used for riding coming off like silk in his calloused palms. She was moaning into his mouth, the world outside the tent becoming buttery soft and not to be worried about. All there was was Jasper and his fucking mouth moving to her neck and his teeth toying around her jaw.

“Jesus, Major” He chuckled at her swear and rid her completely of every layer but her shift and the wool of her stockings, the small corset she wore becoming just cannon fodder for the mouth and hands of the Cavalryman.

“I love when you call me that, darlin. Wanna hear you scream it.” She had barely gotten open a single button on his shirt before he brushed the maps out of the way and flipped her on her back underneath him, the sway of his curled mane teasing her, the golden wheat just barely out of the reach of her teeth or fingers.

She wanted to use it like reins.

She’d especially like calling him by his rank then.

“You know I—“ her breathing caught the better of her as he lifted her by her thighs and dragged her ass to his kneeled position, his fingers running up her stockings with particular care, each inch another layer to her growing wetness. She didn’t let go of her breath until he had reached the skirting of her underdress, the white cotton nearly see through with the sweat sticking to every inch of her skin. His watery eyes devoured the sight with an indescribable hunger. Like a wolf hanging over a bleeding lamb.

What a happy sacrifice she’d be.

“Are you a good little southern girl, Isabella?” His fingertips brushed just under the fabric, his intent not easily hidden behind his hardened brow.

She came out trembling, she couldn’t tell over excitement or fear. “Yes Sir. No ones ever…” even her mother would blush saying those words.

Jasper finally smiled, sharp and soul quenching, like a mist of rain before a hurricane.

“I’m going to ruin you.” He couldn’t tell her about the wedding playing out behind his eyes or the static electric resonance he felt thinking about how another man would never get to lay a hand on his pretty Isabella.

His fingers slipped over her cunt, the soft curling hair tickling his fingertips. The moist warmth wet his fingers before skirting over her lips. He almost groaned. She was soaked. He had to see what his little Belle looked like in the light.

Jasper’s eyes met Bella’s giant blown out doe ones, her elbows holding up her upper body, trying to anticipate his very next move.

If they were playing chess, he was going to win. And she had always been a sore loser.

The skirt of the shift creased with the heat of his palms against her stomach, the slightly cooler air blowing across her pussy, making Bella suck in a breath through her teeth, her bottom lip becoming stuck under them with practiced strength.

Her knees knocked against Jasper’s hips as he watched the pink of her pussy clench around nothing, her wet little hole puckering and buzzing with the want of something under his trousers. He licked his lips as he had a gathered two fingers at her slit and traced upwards, her breath coming out in pants as he reached her clit, the engorged nub nearly ringing in her ears. A small circle over it make her moan from her throat. Bella had never felt someone else’s touch, she had never realized how much she wanted for it. She never knew how much she wanted Jasper to touch her.

The solider took his time as he brought the pads of his fingers back down to her achingly small hole and gathered some of her slick, the smell of sweat and Bella nearly driving him half insane as he brought a finger to his mouth, his tongue licking her clean off.

If Bella could speak to God directly and have him reply, she’d thank him for the creation of Major Jasper Whitlock.

But all she could do was cry out for more. And more he silently promised to give.

Maybe too much.

He had to stretch her out, the head of his cock wouldn’t fit into her without an orgasm in her, not now at least. Jasper slowly brought his hand back a third time and entered a single finger, her hips nearly bucking against his wrist as he slowly sat himself. A bead of sweat ran off his brow. A second finger partnered with the first after a few pumps, in and out, in and out. The near wetness coated on those fingers alone could bring him to release in his cot. He couldn’t wait any longer.

“Isabella I have to—“ “Please Major I need—“

The two looked at each other, their mouths in sync as they sat, their souls intertwining and bundling up into a bramble of wonderful thorns, coy smiles gracing both their faces.

Bella sat up slowly and draped a hand over Jasper’s belt buckle. “May I, Major?” The shorty craftsmanship of the iron buckle became putty under her unskilled hands as he nodded, now without words for the angel in front of him. The belt was off before the two noticed and Jasper brought his issued pants down to his ankles and off with his shoes to rest with the scraps of her dress he had taken off so quickly.

“Do you… always go bare?” The squeak of Bella’s voice made Jasper snicker like the teenage boy he technically still was, the nineteen year old clicking his teeth together and grinning. “Miss McCarty, sometimes underpinnings only get in the way of an army man.” A deep blush settled into her cheeks as she slapped at his chest, his shirt hanging open just slightly as he pushed her back to the floor.

“Shush, Whitlock.”

His smile turned feral as the head of his cock graced the hood of her clit, bouncing just slightly with the breath of their bodies. Jasper marked in his head that this should be a sight to see on their wedding night, not their first night together, but by God was it a beautiful one.

He looked at her as he grasped one of her hips with his right hand and the base of his cock with his left. “Breathe, Belle. Breathe with me, alright?” She nodded her head slowly and brought her own hand to the tent floor, grasping tightly.

Jasper’s hand guided the head carefully over her lips and to her quivering entrance. One buck and he’d tear her to badly to bear. No matter how long it had been… he’d never rush with his Isabella. Not now.

He slowly pushed in, the stretch a burn like no other, Bella’s voice turning from a quick steal of breath to a long sigh, the air being pushed out as he took her in. Inch by inch she devoured him, the heat marking his cock in emotional third degree burns. The sky burned brighter, the colors in his eyes turned clearer. Her hips and her fragile skin and the slip of her cunt was the end of the world and the birth of something entirely new. She grasped his shoulders as he mumbled a slew of impressive praise as he allowed her to adjust and seated himself at the very base of her cervix. Her throat screamed out to him as her nails dug in his back.

A wonderful, wonderful burn.

Bella slipped a hand to Jasper’s hip to push him back, to set any and all pace so that the fire would keep burning. He quickly slotted his face in the clench of her neck and began to move his pale hips, beginning to push and pull within her very tight walls.

The tent was full of grunts and moans and breathy screams he was sure the entirely camp heard. But Jesus Christ he didn’t give a single damn at that very moment. His boys knew to stay out of his shit and they be proven that every second until his angel’s orgasm.

God he wanted to fill her up. Wanted to take all of his cum and bury it deep where the lord intended, leave her leaking and exhausted and full of everything he had. He’d empty his balls in her again and again if it meant the Tennessee flower in his arms would keep him forever.

He wanted her forever.

“Major, deeper, please God please yes YES.” Jasper’s hips were snapping at a rapid pace, his balls slapping against her ass as he drove her into the hard ground. He could feel her tighten up the way he felt the air change around him before a fight broke out, the way a horse steps on a snake without jumping. There was an electricity in the air and the moment Bella tore his head out from her and pulled him into a jaw crushing kiss, he was crumbling at her feet, her pussy clenching and spasming around his cock with enough force to take out a grizzly bear.

She locked her legs around his hips as he all but collapsed into her, his hair sweaty between her fingers as she combed through it as his dick twitched it’s last time inside her belly. Jasper’s own hands found repentance under her ass and stayed there, too tired to remove himself from her heat.

“That ride home is gonna be sweaty, isn’t it?” Her whisper made her snort and bite into the side of her neck as she giggled.

[fruitcoops]

Would love to see a wired autocomplete interview with coops! 🥰

Anon, did you read my mind? These two have such chaotic energy when they’re given an outlet and it was a true pleasure to write it. Dorcas is exhausted. Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

“Wait, I want to pull the tab,” Remus said, tugging on the edge of the cardboard lightly as Sirius tried to hold it out of his reach without falling off his chair.

“I get to read it out loud for you and then we switch!” Sirius protested, smacking him gently on the head with it. The resulting bonk noise made them both break down laughing.

“You guys know we’re rolling, right?” Dorcas asked as she gathered a stack of cards in her lap, looking highly amused.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” She turned to the camera with a bright smile. “Welcome back to Lion Pride, hockey fans! I’m Dorcas Meadowes and I’m here today with Sirius Black and Remus Lupin to answer some of the internet’s most pressing questions. How are you two feeling?”

“Terrified,” Sirius said.

“The internet is like the Twilight Zone,” Remus agreed. “Who goes first?”

“Sirius, you’ve got a card already. Take it away.”

He cleared his throat and grabbed the edge of the first pull tab, ripping it off slowly. “That is so satisfying, woah. How tall is Remus Lupin?”

“I am five foot eleven and a half.”

“That half inch comes from your sneakers and you know it.”

“It does not!”

Sirius just smiled and removed the next paper slip. “What language does Remus Lupin speak?”

“I speak English and a little bit of French. Tried to learn Spanish in high school, but failed miserably.”

“I love the wording on this one,” Sirius said as he turned the board toward the camera. “Remus Lupin Green Bay Packers.”

“Dammit, now everyone knows my full name,” Remus sighed. “Uh, the Packers are cool.”

“I think people were wondering if you ever played on the team,” Dorcas said.

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Do I look like a football player to you?”

“Next question!” Sirius ripped the tab off and took a good section of the paper above with it. There was a beat of stunned silence. “I am…so sorry.”

Behind the camera, Marlene burst out laughing, along with most of the camera crew. “It’s fine, keep reading.”

“Okay, um…” Sirius squinted at the partially torn-off question. “Remus Lupin name meaning.”

Remus groaned. “I hate this question. Yes, it does mean Wolf Wolf. Yes, my dad’s name also means Wolf Wolf. Yes, my mother’s maiden name is Howell. I’m aware of the endless puns.”

“Don’t you mean a-were?” Sirius asked as a slow grin spread across his face. Remus grabbed the card and bonked him over the head with it.

“Remus, your turn.” Dorcas handed him a poster board and took the blank one.

“I’m going to be careful with this one, unlike somebody,” he teased, kissing Sirius on the cheek. “Is Sirius Black…related to Pascal Dumais?”

“In all the ways that matter, yes.”

Remus grinned when he read the next one. “Is Sirius Black missing a tooth?”

“No!” Sirius gave the camera an offended look. “I have all my teeth, thank you very much.”

“Is Sirius Black mean?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Reporters don’t like you very much.”

“The feeling is mutual. I love the fans though, most of them are so sweet.”

“Oh, I like this one. Is Sirius Black married?” Remus rested his chin on the top of the card and batted his eyelashes, making Sirius laugh.

“Almost! Ask me again in July.” Remus set the card on the floor and Dorcas passed Sirius a new one. “Does Remus Lupin wear glasses?”

“Nope.”

“Does Remus Lupin—I have never said your name so many times in one sitting, my god—does Remus Lupin have siblings?”

“Yup.”

“Does Remus Lupin—”

“Can you elaborate?” Dorcas asked with a laugh. “How many siblings? Names? Ages?”

Remus turned to the camera. “I have one brother named Julian and he’s ten years old. He likes piggyback rides, ice cream, and hockey.”

“Much better. Take it away, Cap.”

“Does Remus Lupin have allergies?”

Remus frowned in confusion. “Why do people want to know that? Uh, yeah, I’m allergic to some pollens. Spring is hell.”

“How many of these do we have?” Sirius asked as he tossed the board over his shoulder and crossed his legs.

“Quite a few! Loops, you’re up.”

“Where is Sirius Black from?”

“Canada.”

“Where does Sirius Black live?”

“The Lions ice rink. I set up a tent in the middle of the goal posts every night so that I’m never late to practice.”

“Sirius Black gay.”

Sirius paused. “I think we’re missing a couple words in there.”

“That’s literally all it says,” Remus laughed, moving it to show him. “Sirius Black gay. I don’t know, honey, Sirius Black gay?”

“Sirius Black very gay,” he confirmed. “Sirius Black thinks people need to have better grammar.”

“Is Sirius Black’s hair naturally curly?”

“No, I use a curling iron every morning to do each individual curl,” he said. “It takes me seven hours and thirteen minutes, and I use a full can of hairspray.”

Remus scooted over so Dorcas could hand him a new card. “He keeps a stopwatch and tries to beat his personal record every time.”

Sirius pulled the first tab away and immediately started laughing too hard to speak.

“What does it say? You can’t just leave me hanging!” Sirius turned the board around and Remus leaned down to read it. “Is Remus Lupin hockey? Yes. I am the entire sport of hockey condensed into one being. I’m coming for basketball next. Thanks for asking!”

It took a few seconds for Sirius to get his breath back. “What is Remus Lupin—”

“I thought we just answered that.”

“—what is Remus Lupin zodiac sign?”

Remus paused. “Is that the thing Pots was talking about the other day? With the quiz?”

“That was love languages.”

“Your zodiac sign depends on your birthday,” Marlene called. “When were you born?”

“March 10th.”

“You’re a Pisces.”

“I’m a Pisces!” he said brightly to the camera. “No idea what that means, but it sounds cool.”

“It means you’re two fish.” She laughed as Remus sucked his cheeks in for a fish face. “Very nice.”

“Thank you.”

Sirius was especially careful as he pulled the paper slip off the next question. “What is Remus Lupin first job?”

“The grammar of these questions is killing me. Um, I worked in the university bookstore during college.”

“On the list of ‘things that don’t surprise anyone’,” Dorcas joked.

“Did Remus Lupin go to college?”

Remus gave the camera a look. “First of all, I have a medical degree. Second of all, did people completely forget about the whole ‘about to be drafted right out of college’ thing? It was a grand total of four years ago! Google it!”

“That’s what they did,” Sirius pointed out, gesturing to the board.

“True.”

“Last one for this card: how old is Remus Lupin?”

Remus thought for a moment. “Y’know, I kind of lost track after the first few centuries. My turn…what is Sirius Black real name?”

Sirius glanced at the camera. “It’s Sirius Black? Is this a trick question?”

“There are people out there who think that’s a fake name,” Dorcas said.

“Um, okay. Yeah, my real name is Sirius Black, my brother is Regulus, my dad is Orion, and I have cousins named Andromeda and Bellatrix.”

“What’s your uncle’s name again?” Remus asked.

“Which one? Cygnus? Phineas Nigellus? Arcturus?” At Dorcas’ surprised look, he laughed. “Oh, I could go all day long with this. That’s the tea on old French families with weird-ass naming traditions.”

“This next one is similar: Sirius Black middle name?”

“Orion.”

“Fun fact: the first time I saw your full name, Moody had written it and I thought it said ‘onion’.” Remus laughed as Sirius’ jaw fell open. “Those three seconds were a highlight of my life. Alright, what’s next…what color are Sirius Black’s eyes?”

“Blue.”

Remus shook his head. “They’re gray, almost silver.”

“Basically blue.”

“There’s nothing basic about you, babe.” Remus slid the board onto the floor and passed Sirius a new one. “Hit me with your best shot.”

“Is Remus Lupin Canadian?”

“I wish.”

“Is Remus Lupin left-handed?”

“No, but a lot of people seem to think that I am.”

“Is—” Sirius cut off with a snort. “Is Remus Lupin scrappy?”

“Are you fucking with me?” Remus asked, leaning over. “Is that actually what it says?”

“Yep.”

“Scrappy? Really?” He shook his head, lost for words. “I mean, I guess. Nobody’s ever called me scrappy before.”

“I don’t like this last one. How much is Remus Lupin worth?” Sirius wrapped an arm around his shoulders and kissed his temple. “You’re priceless.”

“I’m worth at least half a PB & J, but only if you use the good peanut butter. If you use the shitty Skippy stuff, hand over the whole sandwich. My turn! Does Sirius Black have piercings?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Does Sirius Black have an Instagram?”

“I do. Sblack12, if you want to see pictures of my friends’ kids and this cutie.”

“Is Sirius Black Australian?”

“Fuck off. I’m French Canadian, how the hell did anyone think I was Australian?”

“Sirius Black birthday.”

“I have one.”

“What is it?” Marlene asked. “I’ll tell you your zodiac sign.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “November 3rd.”

“Scorpio bitch.”

“Hey!”

“On the bright side, Scorpios and Pisces are super compatible.”

“What a relief, I was really banking on our astrology compatibility,” Remus said drily.

Dorcas handed Sirius a fresh board. “First up: can Remus Lupin sing?”

“Eh.”

“The correct answer is yes. What is Remus Lupin like in real life?”

“I’m horrible. I kick every puppy I see and carry one of those sticky hands from arcades to steal candy from children.” A smile twitched at the edges of his mouth and Sirius’ cheeks turned pink from suppressing his laughter. “Like Spiderman, but evil.”

“What happened to Remus Lupin after college?”

“What didn’t happen to Remus Lupin after college?” he laughed, leaning back in his seat. “These past couple years have been bonkers fucking yonkers. I became a PT, got a secret boyfriend, and now I’m engaged and an NHL player. There were, like, three seasons of character development squished into eighteen months.”

“Alright, last one. Why Remus Lupin kissed Sirius Black?”

“Because he’s hot and nice. Also, because he’s my fiancé.”

“Is that the criteria for kisses?” Sirius asked. “I just have to be hot and nice?”

“Pretty much. You’ve got both boxes permanently checked.”

“Final card,” Dorcas warned as she handed it to him. “Make it count.”

Remus cleared his throat. “How does Sirius Black work out?”

“I rollerskate and hula hoop for six hours a day simultaneously.”

“How old is Sirius Black?”

“Ageless.”

“How did Sirius Black meet Remus Lupin?”

“Fun story, actually. You know the movie Ocean’s Eleven?”

“Are Sirius Black and James Potter—”

“Dating.”

“—still friends.”

“Damn, I thought I had that one.” He did a double take. “Still friends? What happened? I saw him an hour ago, tops.”

“You might have to google it,” Remus suggested as he slid the board across the floor. “That’s it!”

“Way to go, guys,” Dorcas laughed. “I know literally nothing new about you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sirius said as the two high-fived. “We were completely honest the whole time.”

She faced the camera with a poorly-hidden smile. “Thanks for joining us today, Lions, and remember to like and subscribe for more content!”

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

because i was a fool for loving her over you (and if i call i really hope you’ll call me ‘cause i’m not over you)

Fandom: Choujin Sentai Jetman

Characters: Tendou Ryuu, Yuki Gai, Rokumeikan Kaori, Hayasaka Ako

Song: “Empress,” Morningsiders (playlist here)

Note: Alternate title for this story is “The Jetman Trap (1992) starring Hayasaka Ako”

Directly following the defeat of the Vyram there are several days of frantic, exhausted reports and debriefings and meetings, some of which take place in hospital rooms where the various team members are receiving medical care, and then once those are done there is a month total, blissful peace. The Jetmen return to their homes to rest and recuperate. Raita is able to begin the spring planting, Ako to consider and then reject university entrance exams, Ryuu to mourn the second death of his first love, Gai to brush up on his saxophone in preparation for going back to his usual occupation, and Kaori to spend a day with her parents for the first time in ages. Perhaps they’ll be called upon to save the world again, but hopefully not.

At the end of that month, though, comes a strange moment of confluence as in a sumptuous mansion, in a mediocre bar, in a sparsely-decorated military apartment, three people find themselves staring into space and sighing heavily as they murmur, “Well, I screwed that up.”

---

Gai is there when Ryuu finally asks Kaori to dinner, and he’s mature enough by now to admit that it stings somewhat to hear, just as he’s still immature enough to find Ryuu’s gut-punched expression when she turns him down a little bit funny.

“Why?” Ryuu manages to stammer out after a moment, and then he visibly backpedals—“which is to say, of course if you don’t want to I respect that.”

She folds her arms across her chest. “Why now?”

“Well, I, I…I just realized that I’ve wasted so much time on obsessing over the past that I never actually gave…other options…any fair consideration. And because I like you, Kaori, you’re a dear friend, and I’d like to have dinner with you.”

“Well, I’m not interested in being your runner-up.” And that haughty little chin tilt, the one she doesn’t actually pull out too often, and Gai is trying not to eavesdrop, really he is, but she’s just so wonderful to watch when she decides to put the rich blood on. “Ask me again when you want me and aren’t just ‘giving me fair consideration,’” with a hand gesture that manages to indicate quotation marks while concealing how hurt she actually looks.

Then she leaves, and Ryuu stares after her until she’s out of sight before turning to Gai and saying, sounding bewildered, “I did something wrong there, didn’t I. You heard all that, right? Did I do something wrong there?”

Gai takes a sip of his drink—a soda water, he’s trying to drink less alcohol. “I think you might have messed up a little, yeah. Nobody likes to feel like they’re a fallback option.”

---

Ryuu is there when Kaori asks Gai to try meeting her parents again, and it’s a little painful to hear, but not as much as the hissing argument that it devolves into. Nothing that either of them says is untrue, but all of it is put unkindly, two injured people cutting further pieces out of each other in the hopes that it might make everything more even. He’s unexpectedly hurt by the realization that they slept together, probably more than once, even though they’re both mature adults and certainly didn’t need to consult him about it.

Of course, in the end, Gai is the one who stalks off, mouth tight and brow furrowed, and Ryuu almost chases after him—but that would mean leaving Kaori by herself. She stares after Gai for a moment, looking forlorn, and then turns and buries her face in Ryuu’s chest and bursts into tears. “I don’t know what I did wrong,” she sobs, and he pats her shoulder awkwardly and offers reassurances that he’s not sure he means.

“It’s all right,” he says, staring over her head in the direction Gai went and trying not to focus too much on the warmth of her body pressed up against his. “I’m sure you’ll get another chance to talk things out with him.”

---

Things are still very busy on the farm, so Raita’s not with them, but the other four meet up at a park as the weather starts to warm up. Ako and Kaori are sitting together sharing a thermos of tea and a basket of cookies while Ryuu and Gai play catch when Ako says, “So how are things with you guys?”

Kaori blinks down into her cup and says, carefully, “It’s a bit lonely without the team all together, but I’ve been doing well, thank you. How is school? You’re graduating soon, right?”

“I am, but you know that’s not what I was asking. How are things with you three. You and Ryuu and Gai.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, don’t give me that, you totally know what I mean.” Ako shoves an entire cookie into her mouth, chews, swallows, and continues with her mouth still partially full. “Honestly if I didn’t already like girls better I think watching you three would have made me prefer them, guys just seem like a hassle.”

Kaori does not choke on her tea, but only through main force. “You like girls?”

“Don’t you? I mean, have you seen girls?”

“I…I suppose I’ve never considered it.”

“Huh. Well, anyway, girls are amazing, not the point, I’m worried about you guys. Which one of them do you actually like?”

Kaori doesn’t answer, she just stares down at her hands.

Ako’s eyes go wide. “Ohhh. It’s like that.”

“What, what do you mean, it’s like what?”

“Have Ryuu and Gai figured out that they’re in love yet or are they still being dumb boys about it?”

“Have—Ryuu and Gai are what?”

“Come on, you have to have noticed.”

Kaori looks over at where Ryuu and Gai have abandoned their game and are sprawled on the ground side by side, catching their breath. Their hands just barely touch, there in the grass, and. She knows. She does know. She’s known for ages now. She’s just been pretending not to, because it hurts to be certain that in the end she won’t ever be the one. But all she says is, “Oh.”

Ako nods, looking unwholesomely knowing for someone who’s not even out of high school, and eats another cookie.

---

“Hey,” Ako says over the phone, “can I introduce you to a friend of mine?”

Kaori thinks about it for a long, long moment, and then says, “Yes, I would like that.”

---

Ryuu says, “I don’t really think I’m ready to try to meet someone new yet, but…sure.”

---

Gai says, “My number isn’t listed, how did you even get it? Don’t answer that, I don’t want to know what you get up to. Yeah, why not.”

---

None of them quite process what she’s done to them until they’re all seated at the restaurant and a waiter is approaching with a telephone to inform them that they’ve received a call. Ryuu is the one who answers, and he doesn’t even start with a greeting, he just says, “Ako, I hope you can understand that I’m a little upset with you right now.”

“You’ll get over it,” she says cheerfully, her voice tinny through the phone receiver. “I hear that restaurant’s really nice, anyway, I hope you three have a good dinner!”

“Don’t hang up, Gai wants to speak to you.”

Gai takes the phone and says, in the most affectionate, big-brotherly voice he can summon, “Ako, you’re a horrible brat and the next time I see you I’m going to spank you because clearly your parents never did it enough.”

“I love you too, and you’ll have to catch me first. Is it Kaori’s turn to be mad at me now?”

Kaori does take the phone, but all does is say, stiffly, “Goodbye, Ako,” and then hang up, turning as she does to smile at the waiter (who is doing his best to not look interested) and say, “If we could have ice water, please, we’ll need a few minutes before we’re ready to order.”

An uncomfortable beat after the waiter leaves, in which they all keep glancing at each other and then looking away, before Ryuu said, “So are we ordering? Or are we all just leaving? Because I want to say we leave, but honestly I’m hungry.”

Gai pinches the bridge of his nose. “Lady’s choice, I guess. I need a drink, but I can get that anywhere.”

They turn to her, and she looks between the two of them, how they incline ever so slightly towards each other even as they’re also inclining towards her, and how could she choose? Even if she did want to separate them when they were clearly so perfect for each other, how could she pick one and leave the other?

Ako’s knowing voice echoes in her head. “Ohhh. It’s like that.”

Oh, says her heart. It’s like that.

She covers her face with her hands, not crying, because everything makes sense in a way that she’s not entirely prepared for and if she starts crying now then she may never stop. “I think,” she says into her palms, breath not hitching, she is speaking so evenly that they certainly won’t be able to tell how overwhelmed she is, “I think, I think we should order dinner, and I think we all need to talk.”

Ryuu and Gai both speak at the same time, and what they both say is, “Whatever you say, Kaori.”

---

“So that sounds like it went well,” Kyoko says, not looking up from where she’s hunting through her box of nail polish. “Which one of them threatened to spank you? Was it the hot one with the motorcycle? He seems like he’d be into that.”

“Kyoko!” Ako throws a pillow at her. “Don’t be gross, he didn’t even mean it like that.”

“What? I’m not saying I want him to spank me, I’m just saying he seems like that kind of guy. There we go.” She lifts a bottle of deep blue polish out of the box. “You want your fingers and toes to match, or do I need to find another color too?”

---

The next morning the phone in Ako’s little apartment rings, and when she picks it up, Gai just starts in with, “Look, threat rescinded, but don’t do that to me ever again.”

She giggles. “So did you have a nice time? I hope you were safe.”

Sputtering on the other end of the line. “You’ve got a dirty mind for a kid. Nothing happened. We talked.”

“All night? I can hear Kaori’s voice. And Ryuu’s. Who was in the middle?”

“Threat unrescinded, you’re going to catch it the next time I see you.” And in the background, Kaori’s joyful laughter, Ryuu asking where the coffee is, something muffled from Gai as he definitely covers the receiver for a moment, and then, “Thank you. Stay out of my love life from now on, you’re a nightmare.”

Ako says, “Love you too, Gai. Tell the other two I say hi,” and then drops the phone back onto its cradle. A moment to just grin smugly at nothing, and then she whirls around to shout, gleefully, “Kyoko! I didn’t screw it up!”

[bookstantrash]

A/N: First of all, I’d like to thank everyone who left a comment, reblogged or liked Part One of this fic. It made my day ❤️

I hope this chapter reaches your expectations. I’m still knew at writing multi-chapter fics, so I apologise if it’s too long or too boring. I want to let you guys know Kaelin better and also show Nesta’s (and Cassian’s) journey. But enough blabbering. Please give a warm welcome to Part Two!

In which she makes a friend, Part Two

Nesta remained frozen beside Kaelin’s body for what seemed an eternity. Seconds that felt more like hours went by until her mind finally snapped back to reality.

She could not give herself the luxury of freaking out right now. She needed to be practical. She needed to help Kaelin.

The sky was beginning to get dark and Nesta knew they had to get out of the forest fast. She recalled Cassian’s warning the first day she had arrived.

To never wander in the forest at dark, for the beasts which roamed them at nightfall made Hybern’s monsters at the war seem like child’s play.

“Kaelin. Listen to me. I’m going to help you�� Nesta said, and Kaelin only whimpered as another wave of pain came “But we have to leave”

“It hurts” the young girl managed to say, tears streaming down her face “I can’t— can’t move”

Nesta eyed Kaelin’s figure. She was way too skinny for a thirteen year old standards, even if she’d been having regular meals for the past month.

But Nesta didn’t think she’d have the strength to carry her.

She had not eaten a proper meal in months.

Did not exercise.

You’re too heavy.

The memory of herself trying to raise another body from the ground came to mind, and she gritted her teeth to avoid screaming.

Once again, she was powerless.

This time, however, she would not lay on the ground.

She would rise. Even if her miserable bones broke beneath Kaelin’s weight.

“I’ll carry you, but you’ll have to help me” Nesta slowly sit Kaelin up, and looked straight in her eyes “Can you be strong for me now? I need you to move just enough to get on my back”

Kaelin nodded weakly and, panting, did what she was told.

Grabbing the girl’s legs in a firm hold, Nesta bit her cheek and got up, her knees screaming in protest.

“Okay ” she breathed, silently praying her body could hold on long enough to make the ten minute walk back to the cabin “I’m going to move now, so brace yourself”

She took a step forward and had to muster all her strength to not fall down with Kaelin. She remembered giving piggy back rides to Elain when she little — before her mother had deemed it unladylike and punished her. A long time had passed since then. She had been stronger and Elain did not have wings to add to her weight as Kaelin had.

But Nesta focused on the action of putting one foot after the other, her breaths coming in pants, willing her legs to keep moving.

‘Almost there’ she thought as she slowly made her back ‘Just keep moving. It’s not that far’

She repeated that over and over in hopes to distract her body. Her arms were trembling and her tights burned, yet she kept her pace.

After what seemed an eternity, Nesta finally spotted the cabin’s familiar rooftop. She almost sighed in relief.

Awkwardly opening the door and closing it shut with her foot, she went to her room, trying to lay Kaelin down on her bed as smoothly as possible.

She tried to regain her breath. Cauldron, how her back hurt.

Kaelin had curled up again, and was clenching her stomach so hard Nesta wondered if she was actually trying to claw her way into her own body so she could rip her ovaries out.

“I’ll be right back” Nesta said, smoothing some hair from Kaelin’s forehead.

She went to the kitchen, searching for something that would calm the poor girl’s pain. Nesta had not had her period as a fae yet —the huge amounts of alcohol and lack of food in the last year were probably the reason why — but remembered how it was when she used to be a human. She’d get horrible headaches and just lay down all day waiting for the pain to go away. She could only imagine how dreadful the experience must be for the fae.

Getting hold of some ginger, she put water in a kettle to prepare some tea, hoping Kaelin would be able to at least drink it. After that, she went into the shared bathroom between her room and Cassian’s.

And stopped right in front of the bathtub.

She still had trouble taking baths.

Had grown used to her old and deplorable bathtub back in her shabby apartment in Velaris.

And when she had arrived and came face to face with a bathtub big enough to accommodate wings, its dark stone a stark reminder of the Cauldron... she had frozen up. Refused to enter it. Even now, after months living in Cassian’s cabin, she could not stomach the ideia of doing it.

So she waited until Cassian left for his training and took a bucket to wash herself. It was a long process and rather difficult to wash her hair, but at least she could stay clean.

Yet, she could not do the same with Kaelin. The girl was sweaty and dirty with blood. And Nesta knew that a hot bath would do wonders to the cramps, relaxing her.

Raising her chin as if battling an invisible enemy, she got near the bathtub for the first time, turning the faucet and letting it be filled with hot water. Her heartbeat quickened as the water rose and rose, her powers a volcano in her veins, and she had to close her fists tight enough to hurt to not shatter the whole bathroom.

‘It’s not the Cauldron. It’s not the Cauldron’ reaching a tentative hand, she dipped it in the water to check the temperature ‘This water is hot. The Cauldron’s was cold. They are not the same’

Nesta turned the faucet off, and some tension eased off from her shoulders. Looking around the bathroom, she located the camomile oil Cassian kept. She had once heard it helped ease the soreness of the muscles after extensive training.

Putting it in the water, she found herself feeling a bit guilty for using it. It was not hers. Nothing in that house was. But Cassian was not here, and she doubted he’d notice that the little flask was missing some of its content.

She went back to her bedroom, and helped Kaelin take her leathers and tunic off, as she did with the band the girl had wrapped around her breasts, as small as they still were. Only thirteen, the period in which her body was slowly maturing, yet she was going through those body changes alone. The danger of being found out hanging around her neck like a rope.

Nesta tried not to flinch at the sight of the purple bruises along Kaelin’s back and ribs. A girl training the same amount as an Illyrian boy.... she must be very strong to take it all.

Kaelin wobbled towards the bathroom with Nesta’s help, breathing a sight of relief when her body came in contact with the hot water. Letting her soak for a while, Nesta stripped down some clean linens and left them on the bed.

Now the only matter were the clothes.

Nesta had brought few clothes with her, and most of them did not go along with the ruthless Illyrian weather. She eyed the lower drawer of the dresser. The one which she had not dared to touch.

She had been stubborn and refused to accept any more charity from her sister and her mate, sticking with her old dresses and overcoat instead. It was not as if she left the cabin long enough to die of frostbite.

Yet even if Kaelin was used to Illyria’s harsh weather, wearing warm clothes would make her more comfortable. Nesta was not as ruthless as to lend one of her thin run down dresses.

Sighting, she opened the drawer. And almost took a step back in surprise. For there lay clothes not in Night Court’s colours or the typical winter clothes one would find selling in Velaris.

No, they were Illyrian clothes. And not just leathers.

There were cotton sweaters, leggings, tunics and soft pants that Nesta would have never thought of wearing. And the colours.... Gods the colours. There was a range of colours from grey to auburn, burgundy, royal blue and forest green. The kind of colours that Nesta could imagine herself in.

She was so marvelled by them that she almost missed the small note on top of one sweater.

‘These are for you. I took the liberty of buying them, but if you prefere another clothing style feel free to tell me — Cassian’

He had bought her clothes. He, not her sister. And Cassian had kept quiet about it. Had not said a word before his trip about how she had never opened that drawer.

Had given her space. A choice.

Had she perhaps misunderstood his apparent cold behaviour? Was he perhaps giving her time to get used to her current situation? Was he distancing himself so it was her choice when the time to talk came?

Picking some clothes for Kaelin and laying them on the bed, Nesta tucked that information deep inside herself, feeling an annoying warmth in her heart she had not felt in a long time.

~•~

“What did you say?”

“You heard me perfectly clear or have you become deaf with your age?” Nesta replied to the camp lord in front of her, the mask of a bored and mighty queen mastered to perfection.

“I was not informed about this” Devlon said, anger lacing his every word.

“You were not notified because it was not necessary” she spat back, a cold fury settling in her veins “So let it be known that Kaelin will be staying with me for the time being to help in an important and secret matter, none of which are for you to worry about”

“How dare—“

“Have a good day” cutting Devlon off before he nagged at her some more, Nesta left him standing at the training area.

She heard Devlon bark an order for the Illyrians to get back to training, the sound of swords clashing against each soon rising again. She tried not to flinch at the sounds, keeping her mask up until she was safely back at the cabin.

Once inside, Nesta let herself rest against the door, sighing. She was tired. The events of yesterday and today’s morning had taken a tool on her. It had been a while since she had worn the unfeeling ice queen mask. She didn’t recall it to be so tiring.

But rest would have to wait a little bit. She had to check on Kaelin. And demand an explanation.

The night before, after Kaelin had gotten out of the bath and was dressed, Nesta had given the ginger tea and coaxed her into drinking it all. Not long after that, the poor girl fell asleep.

Nesta, on the hand, stayed awake for the better part of the night, dozing off in a chair near the bed, waking up whenever she heard Kaelin move.

When the birds had started to sing in the early morning, Nesta had came up with a plan. Leaving a tray with light food and tea in the bedside for Kaelin, she dressed herself and braided her hair neatly, preparing to go after Devlon. She had to make sure that Kaelin could stay away from training during her cycle and that her secret kept being a secret.

But the Illyrian had some gaps to fill in.

“Nesta?” she heard a soft voice calling from her room, and taking a deep breath, moved from her position.

“Good morning” Nesta said, finding the girl awake and less pale than yesterday “How do you feel?”

“Better” Kaelin was slowing making her way through breakfast “But, training...Devlon....how—”

“It’s been taken care of off” taking her position from the past night, Nesta squared her shoulders and took a business like voice “You have a story to tell”

Kaelin, noticing how the air had become serious, lost no time and, stopping sometimes when the cramps returned with full force, told Nesta everything.

Kaelin’s mother, as she said before, had a fragile health, made worse by the heavy workload imposed on the females. Add that to a difficult pregnancy, you have the recipe for an early labour.

Right in the middle of the heaviest snow storm to have ever befallen on Illyria. Which lasted for four days and four nights.

Making it impossible for a midwife to get there.

Mikael, her father, aided his wife, Selin, all on his own.

A warrior born to kill. To reap lives.

However, for her he would bring life. He would do everything he could.

It was not enough.

He was not able to stop Selin’s internal bleeding. Or her death.

And so, thirteen years ago, on the day Illyria bled white while Selin bled red, a healthy little girl was born.

Yet after the blizzard stopped and Mikael buried his wife, a boy was announced to have been born.

“Protect her” Selin had whispered with her last breath “Let our daughter be free and strong. Let her know no fear. Let her be as wild as Sanuur, the Mother of all forests. As ruthless as the old Illyrian warriors. As wise as our matriarchs.”

Mikael kept his promise. He raised Kaelin as a boy in secret as best as he could. Until he was killed in the Hybern War.

And Kaelin was alone.

An orphan who nothing deserved to have, save for a duffel bag with whatever she could grab before she was kicked out of her childhood home — a one room wood cabin, built by her father after years of hard work — in the mud.

After the rumours that a Witch now lived with the General, Kaelin had a mad plan: she’d give anything, even her soul, to avoid getting what would raise a red flag to her secret.

“I starved and ate herbs that were said to make one avoid getting periods” Kaelin said, looking down at her empty cup “But those things made me far too weak. I was falling behind training. I am at the age boys grow like trees and start to get buffer. I needed a quick solution”

And Nesta had been feeding her.

Oh, she was going to get sick. Had she doomed Kaelin while thinking she was saving a poor orphan?

“From now on,” Nesta announced “I’ll be the one to keep your father’s promise. You will live with me”

It did no good to dwell on what could have been. What had been done was done.

For the first time in five months, the fog inside Nesta’s mind seemed to lift.

“You will live with me. And I will train with you”

Because never again would she be weak. Never again would she be at someone’s mercy.

Nesta Archeron was going to show Illyria just how much she should be feared.

•

Tags: @sayosdreams @thewayshedreamed @sjm-things @perseusannabeth @arin1030-blog @caotica-e-quieta @vidalinav @swankii-art-teacher @ireallyshouldsleeprn @duskandstarlight @greerlunna @thegoddessaltenia @dayanna-hatter @verypaleninja

{Please let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list}

[unsettledink]

Cold Hands, Warm Heart - Fluffuary Day 19

Word Count: 974

Prompt: Cold feet/hands/nose

Summary: Tony's hands are always so cold.

*

Peter's not sure what causes it. Maybe it’s some sort of arc reactor related damage thing that can’t be fixed. Maybe it’s stress, because it does seem worse when Tony’s having a few bad days in a row. He knows it’s not weather related; that’s the first thing he managed to eliminate. 

For all Peter knows, maybe it's just how Tony has always been. “Yeah,” Rhodey says when Peter finally remembers to ask, “Tony’s always had the coldest hands. Even back in college. He used to make me practically shriek sticking them on my neck.”

He grins. “Or elsewhere,” and Peter laughs. Yeah, he knows about elsewhere. “It’s nice in the summer though,” Rhodey says.

Hopefully, Peter will find out.

Tony insists it's not him. Is absolutely adamant that Peter just runs too hot, and that's the real reason everything feels cooler to him. Which is ridiculous because if anything, Peter’s always cold. He may not seem it, but he’s not wearing four layers everyday just to hide the webshooters. 

Regardless of the reason, the fact is that Tony's hands—and feet and nose and sometimes it seems like nearly everything—are so cold. Ice cold. Have-been-holding-onto-an-icy-soda-can-cold. Every time he touches Peter, there's a little shiver that Peter can't repress. And if he doesn't know Tony is there, or that he's about to stick his ridiculously cold fingers up under Peter's shirt, it's going to get a much bigger shiver and possibly a squeak. It's not a yelp, okay? It's just a squeak. Because he's startled.

"It's cute when you do that," Tony says, pressing forward all along Peter's back, his horrible frigid hands sliding around to Peter's stomach. Dipping a little lower, even.

"Do what," Peter manages, trying not to get completely distracted.

"Make that noise," Tony says. "Like a little squeaky toy," and Peter blushes. So maybe he makes that noise other times as well, what of it.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he says, because if Tony's taught him one thing, it's to deny to the very end.

"Mmm," and then there's a little point of cold against the back of Peter's neck, like a freaking ice cube. "That noise," Tony says, his lips brushing Peter's skin.

"How is your nose so cold?" Peter hisses. "I mean, it's not even cold in here! You've been working! Why!"

"Whine whine whine," Tony says. Kisses the spot his nose was a second ago, and then a little lower. Peter tilts his head to the side, because Tony's lips are warm. His mouth is warm when he presses it to Peter's skin, even hot when he bites at Peter's shoulder over his shirt, teasing. "Do I need to make it up to you?"

"I mean, I'm not going to say no," but the truth of it is— of course Tony doesn't have to. Of course Peter is perfectly happy to warm Tony up in any way he can, and always will be. He catches Tony's hands and helps slide them down even lower, under the waistband of his pants. "I know you'll come up with something good," he tells Tony.

“I always have excellent ideas,” Tony says and— Peter’s not going to even comment. He doesn’t have to; he can already hear Rhodey’s response in his head. 

Rhodey, on the other hand, is like a furnace. 

It’s amazing. Ten minutes curled up with him and Peter feels like he’s boneless, completely melted and useless for anything. And finally warm. He wiggles a little closer to Rhodey and sighs. “You’re so warm.”

“You won’t be so glad of that in the summer,” Tony mutters; Peter reaches across Rhodey’s chest and bats at him. 

“Shut up,” Peter says. “It’s not like you’re off on your own instead of trying to hog him.” 

“Well it’s not summer now.”

“You know,” Rhodey says, “you don’t have to act like you’re Peter’s age. And some of us are trying to sleep.”

Tony’s head pops up. “Who?” he says, and Peter snorts. 

He feels Rhodey’s sigh as much as he hears it. “Apparently not me,” he says.

“Looks like not me either.”

“Come on, honeybear,” Tony says. Slants a glance at Peter, just sly enough that Peter knows he’s going to like whatever Tony’s planning. “You don’t want to sleep.” He kisses Rhodey’s arm; bites it lightly a second later. “Do you?”

“Yeah,” Peter says, turning his head enough for his lips to brush Rhodey’s ear instead of his neck. “Do you?”

Rhodey growls and rolls over onto him and it looks like the answer is no, he definitely does not want to sleep. 

And they don’t sleep. For a good long while. 

Tony still slips away when he thinks they’re asleep, after. Peter’s not, but he doesn’t say anything. Tony was obviously still too jittery to sleep, and forcing him to lie there longer is just mean. He’s hoping they’ll manage to break Tony out of this habit sooner rather than later though; the two of them know Tony too well to get upset if he goes off to work instead of staying. He doesn’t have to keep hiding it. 

Someday.

Later, when Tony comes back to bed and he's chilled all over, frozen toes nearly leaving frostbite on Peter's skin, Peter will squeak, and he'll whine, and he'll latch onto Tony and not give him a chance to put any space between them. Not until Rhodey’s woken up too and they’ve managed to get Tony between them, trapped and helpless and all warmed up, toasty enough he’s halfheartedly trying to get free. 

Very halfheartedly. More griping than anything, really; it’s kind of cute, but Peter knows Tony won’t appreciate it. Not like Rhodey would. But Tony won’t put up a fight; he’s been too cold, too much. 

Good thing he’s got them to keep him warm.

*

AO3

[caitybug]

Prompt: "Call me when you get home?"

AHH! I love this kind of stuff. And I aggressively do this with my friends. 

I fluctuate between being the mom and dad friend for everyone it’s fine. 

Anyway, thanks for the prompt. I hope you enjoy it!

(I’m tagging @ninemagicks bc she wants weather-related situations and I’m but a vessel to help give her what she wants).

I’m stuck at the airport in New York after leaving on a business trip that I didn’t want to go on. It’s almost Christmas, it’s cold, and I want to be with Simon. 

I’m supposed to already be there with him but the weather has been too horrible back home. All flights to London are at a standstill. 

“Snow?” I say into the phone after he answers. “My flight has been pushed back another three hours because of the storm. I’m sorry I won’t be home tonight.”

We were going to order in curry.

I was going to snog him senseless.

“I hope they don’t push it back again,” he replies. I hear noises behind him, people talking. “I got stuck at work because of the storm too, so I’ll be here late. The roads are awful, no one can seem to get in.”

“How much longer do you think you’ll be there?” I ask. 

I hear someone nearby talk about people getting hurt on the road. There is black ice so cars keep sliding around. A small sense of nervousness starts to peak its way into my chest. 

“I’m not sure,” he responds. I hear the noises muffle. He must have moved into the back room. “Maybe until close.”

I can see him in his stupid work apron. It’s green and absolutely hideous, but still infuriatingly charming. I’m sure he’s frazzled and tired since his shift started at nine this morning, hair probably wildly sticking up in tiny poofs. 

I look at my phone to check the time. It’s 4 pm, meaning it’s already 9 there. 12 hours at the shop.

“Have you eaten?” I ask.

I’m sure he didn’t bring food with him. He was only supposed to be there for a few hours.

Even if he was to be there this long he would have forgotten.

“Yeah, I bought a sandwich,” he replies.

It’s quiet for a moment. I hear a baby cry nearby, parents frantically trying to get it to calm down.

“Good good,” I mutter. 

It’s quiet for another moment.

“I should probably-” he says at the same time I say “I don’t want to-”

We both pause

“You go first,” he chuckles. 

“I don’t want to keep you,” I say.

I do. I want him to hide from his boss and stay on the phone with me. I’d much rather listen to him droll on about some comic book than listen to this mother yell at her teenage daughter again. 

But it’s unfair of me to do that to him.

“Yeah,” he replies. “I was going to say I should probably go. Boss wants me to try to shovel part of the walk.”

I nod.

“Will you call me when you get home?” I ask.

Because I’m nervous. 

Because I worry.

Because I want to know he made it home safe.

Because I want to hear his voice. 

“Of course,” he says. I swear I can hear his smile. 

“Good. Be safe,” I tell him. “Will you walk?”

“Probably yeah. No sense in messing with cars or the bus right now. We’re not that far away.”

I’m thinking of his old ratty shoes.

There’s not enough traction on them.

“Let me know when your flight takes off, yeah?” 

I clear my throat.

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” 

“Good. Talk to you later, Baz.” 

“Talk to you later, Simon.”

The phone beeps and I already feel antsy.

I text him a quick ‘let me know when you leave the shop’ as well. As long as he is at the shop he’s fine, but when he leaves I can judge properly how long it might take.

Just in case I don’t hear and I need to do something.

“Flight 3546 to London is canceled,” I hear over the speaker.

“Fuck,” I breath out.

The middle-aged mother across from me gives me a dirty look.

Flight is canceled, going to rebook. I text Simon. Going to rent a hotel for the night. Don’t forget to call. 

I slip the phone back into my pocket and head to find a hotel. 

________

Simon does end up slipping on the sidewalk but makes it home in one piece.

We fall asleep on the phone, but not until after I order him a new pair of shoes.

[one-with-the-floor]

Love Thy Neighbor (or at Least Give Him a Chance)

Day 2 of @ineffablehusbandsweek

Today’s meet cute: Aziraphale has just moved in and desperately needs a favor--and if babysitting his godson is what it takes for Crowley to get his number, heck, that’s just what he’ll do. Also on AO3 right here!

Crowley was watching nothing on the TV when his doorbell rang. He blinked and squinted towards the window. It was still absolutely pissing down rain. Even though it was barely half six, it was dark enough to be the middle of the night. Whoever was out ringing doorbells in this weather was either extremely lost or extremely young and troublesome. But if it was one of the village kids, Crowley reasoned, they wouldn’t ring twice if he didn’t answer. He could continue his mindless evening and not get pulled into something ridiculous and probably detrimental to his reputation as a man who did not walk around the village covered in mud. Crowley stared at the front door, willing it to reveal its secrets without him having to get up. The door acquiesced. The doorbell rang twice in quick succession this time, and Crowley finally groaned and flopped off the sofa.

“Village is down the road to the right, mate, probably drove right through it and didn’t even notice…” Crowley trailed off, staring. There was a man standing on his doorstep, and he was possibly the most bedraggled, incongruous, and gorgeous man he’d ever seen. His pale hair was plastered to his face, looking weirdly Roman-soldier-esque the way it curled on his skin, and somehow his soft grey eyes only added to the image. His face was soft, though, nothing chiseled or severe about it. It was the sort of face that could really carry a smile, and make anyone else want to smile, too. The man didn’t have an umbrella, or a raincoat, or even a normal coat to keep the wet from seeping through to his clothes, and his blue shirt was soaked through. Crowley noticed that the buttons weren’t all lined up right.

“I’m so sorry to bother you,” the man was saying, twisting a ring around his pinky finger. “I’m having a minor crisis, I promise I wouldn’t be here without warning if it weren’t an emergency, but Dierdre Young said you sometimes watch her son Adam for her? And the other kids?”

Fucksake, Crowley thought. Those eyes should not be able to get bigger. “Er, yeah. I’ve watched them a few times.” A few times was an understatement. He’d been babysitting The Them since they were crawling.

“I hate to ask this,” the man said, and Crowley was a little bit shocked to find he sounded sincere. “I know it’s horribly last minute, and if you have other plans or—or if you just don’t want to, whatever it is it’s fine, really, but… my godson is with me for a few weeks, and something’s come up for work and I really can’t afford not to go, and that’s terrible of me I know it but I’ve just moved and I’m not quite on my feet yet and I’m already going to have to drive in this damn rain and…” The man yanked on the hem of his shirt. He looked close to tears. Crowley could see it even through the pounding rain.

Crowley didn’t babysit kids he didn’t know. Too many variables, too many parents who ignored issues and then left him to figure out what to do when their kid started having an allergic reaction or a totally preventable meltdown on his watch. Normally, he’d have pointed the man toward Ms. Tracy, the village’s collective odd grandmother and the other usual babysitter.

But the man in front of him was standing out in the rain asking him a little desperately for help, and somewhere in Crowley’s decidedly cold black heart something gave in.

“How long do you think you’ll be gone?”

“Oh—oh! I’ll be back by tonight. I hope before his bedtime, there shouldn’t be traffic this time of night but the rain might slow me down… but I should be here to pick him up before ten, I promise I’ll do my absolute best for that.”

Something else in Crowley’s heart wiggled and squirmed. “How old is he?”

“Five. He’s the same age as Deirdre’s boy, I’ve been hoping to set them up for a playdate but there just hasn’t been time… ”

“Give me two minutes,” Crowley said suddenly, and closed the door in the man’s face. That was probably rude, he mused, but there were more pressing issues. Namely that his heartbeat seemed to have decided it wanted to try its hand at percussion music, and Crowley’s ears were going to be the drums. He stood with his back against the door and stared in the direction of a wall while he tried to get his mutinous heart to understand that he should not be having palpitations over a man he’d just met, regardless of how pretty his eyes were.

He’s also very considerate and seems to care about this kid a lot, his heart rebutted. All that on top of the eyes. And he looks incredibly soft and huggable, did you notice that?

Crowley had noticed that, thank you very much, and had deliberately decided to not go there. He didn’t need any additional sources of embarrassment.

When exactly two minutes were up, Crowley sucked in a steadying breath and swung the door open again. The man was still standing there, looking half worried and half bemused.

“I can keep an eye on the kid till ten,” Crowley said. The man gasped and pressed a hand to his mouth in relief. Crowley’s heart did an uncomfortable flopping thing. “Does he have any allergies?” he continued, telling himself there wasn’t a squeak in his voice.

“No, nothing.”

“Anything medical at all? Anything I might need to know in an emergency?”

“No, no he’s perfectly healthy.”

“And his bedtime is?”

The man’s face went red. “Well, it really should be half eight. But I’ll admit I usually let him stay up till half nine or ten when he’s with me.”

Crowley shrugged. “No problem with me. He’s your kid. Or, well…”

“Close enough, really. I really can’t thank you enough for this. I promise I’ll pay you as soon as I can, I’m not asking for a favor here—”

“Nope, nope,” Crowley interrupted, shaking his head. “I don’t do pay. I’m alright as is, save it and buy the kid an ice cream next time you’re out.”

The man stared at him. His eyes had gone very big again. “Oh.”

Crowley’s face heated, and he felt a sudden urge to pull his own shirt hem. “Just, er, just call me if you’re gonna be late, yeah?”

“Of course! Of course, absolutely, I’ll call as soon as I’m on my way home. Here.” He clumsily passed Crowley his phone, trying to keep it out of the rain. They exchanged contact info, and Crowley tried to tell his idiot of a heart that he wasn’t being given his number, just an emergency contact. His heart, as ever, ignored him.

Crowley snuck a look at his phone while the man ran back to his car to collect his godson. ‘Aziraphale Fell’ the contact page read. “Aziraphale,” he murmured, trying it out. It fit, he decided. An odd, nice sounding name for an odd, nice man.

Fucksake, this was gonna be a thing now.

Aziraphale returned a moment later, leading a little boy in a bright yellow raincoat by the hand. Crowley noticed with amusement that the kid’s hood was made to look like a duck, with eyes stitched on and a little bill sticking out. His boots were orange duck feet. Cute. The kid looked up at Crowley curiously. Crowley gave him a wide, silly grin, and the boy giggled.

When they got inside, Aziraphale immediately crouched down to speak to his godson. Ding! Another point for him! Crowley’s brain yelled. Crowley decidedly ignored it.

“You’ll be good for Mr. Crowley, won’t you, Warlock?” Aziraphale was saying. The little boy nodded solemnly. “Thank you, dear.” He kissed Warlock on the forehead, then stood up again. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, I promise. I really can’t thank you enough—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Crowley waved him away. “Really. If I didn’t want to I’d say no.”

Aziraphale gave him a hesitant smile. “You’ll call me if anything—?”

“Long as you call if anything goes wrong your end.”

“I will. I promise, I will.” Aziraphale crouched down to give Warlock another hug. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“Mhm,” Warlock said. Crowley choked down a laugh.

Aziraphale tried to thank him twice more on his way out the door, and Crowley shooed him away both times. Normally he would have found that kind of dawdling irritating beyond belief, but from Aziraphale it was just… it was sweet, he admitted to himself. He thought Aziraphale was sweet. As he stood by the front window with Warlock and waved at Aziraphale’s departing car, he gave himself a moment to sit in the excitement of meeting someone new. Someone who lived close, no less, and would likely come to Crowley to babysit in the future, too. Maybe Crowley could show him around the village, help him get settled. He could unpack boxes or paint bedrooms, if Aziraphale hadn’t quite finished moving in yet. Or he could introduce Warlock to the other kids, and Aziraphale to the other parents—godparents, guardians, all the same to the kids—and maybe… maybe somewhere in there they could go out for dinner. Get to know each other. Just maybe, this might be someone he could build something with.

Then Aziraphale’s tail lights faded into the pounding rain, and Crowley snapped himself out of it.

“Right!” he cried. “So, Warlock. Have you had your dinner yet?”

Warlock nodded. He seemed like a quiet kid. Would probably be a great balance to the rambunctiousness of The Them.

Crowley grinned at him. “Well, if you’ve already had your dinner, then there’s only one thing left to do.” Warlock stared up at him, wide eyed. Crowley leaned down to whisper conspiratorially. “I’ve got ice cream in the freezer. What do you say to early dessert?”

Warlock said yes, very enthusiastically, and they spent the next few hours eating ice cream and watching movies. Crowley had figured he’d have to pull out some games later, or find a book to read him, but by the time movies were getting old Warlock was falling asleep on the sofa. It was an easy night. Warlock was an easy kid. Crowley was already looking forward to babysitting him again.

At 9:57 on the dot, Aziraphale rang the doorbell. Warlock didn’t stir, so Crowley picked him up and brought him to the door. Aziraphale was just as thankful as he had been earlier, and Crowley brushed him off just the same. Aziraphale roused Warlock enough to get him into his raincoat and boots, then let the little boy fall back asleep on his shoulder.

“I… I hope I’ll see you again?” Aziraphale asked softly as he headed out the door. The rain had finally slowed to a drizzle.

“Yeah,” Crowley answered, trying to hide the fact that his heart was trying to pound its way out of his chest. “And, uh. Doesn’t just have to be with the kid, if—I mean—I mean he’s a great kid, loved having him, was great, but, uh…”

He stammered to a stop, because Aziraphale was smiling at him. “I think I’d like that,” he said.

“Oh. Er… good. Me too.”

“I’ll see you soon, then.” Aziraphale shifted Warlock in his arms and turned towards his car. “Goodnight, Anthony.”

“Ngk,” Crowley said. “G’night. Night, Warlock.” He was immensely grateful for the nighttime shadows covering his blush.

Crowley stayed in the doorway as Aziraphale drove away. Then he fell back onto his sofa and scrubbed his hands over his face. Leave it to him to fall head over heels for a soft man with a kind voice and a sweet kid on the first meeting. This was going to be excruciating.

Well. At least he knew he’d be seeing Aziraphale again. And he had his number. Wriggling around to get access to his pocket, Crowley pulled out his phone.

hey he texted. was really nice to meet you. think we could get coffee sometime?

As soon as the messages were sent he flung his phone onto the farthest chair in the room and pressed his hands over his eyes, pushing the anxiety back with a force. But it was only a minute before the mobile buzzed, and he was lunging across the room to get it back.

I’d like that :) he read. Crowley felt an uncontrollable grin spread across his face. He was just about to whoop and go finish off the ice cream in celebration when the phone buzzed again.

You’ll have to wait for me to find another babysitter, though

Crowley laughed, his grin never fading. np, one sec he texted back, then swapped over to another conversation.

Only a moment later—Ms. Tracy was going to be absolutely insufferable about all this—Aziraphale messaged him again.

Okaaaaay, never mind the waiting then. How does this weekend sound?

It was Thursday. Crowley practically bounced on his feet at the thought of seeing Aziraphale again so soon. sounds perfect he replied. Aziraphale sent him another smiley face emoji, and Crowley really did whoop then. He had a date. He had a date, with a guy he really liked, and who seemed to really like him. And who was really good with his kid, to boot.

Crowley got ready for bed in a happy daze that night. And when he slept, he dreamed of pale blond hair and a rain-dark blue shirt, and of a sleepy little duckling in a raincoat.

[moiralovestowrite]

The Plan Chapter 1

Cayde’s light blue eyes felt like ice. His gaze was thin, trembling, like it could crack at any moment. He had never felt like this before, it was like he was helpless, watching those he loved succumb to a terrible fate. The Drifter had spent a whole month planning this out, The con-man was well known for his ideas, his “adventures”, Would this work? Was this just a stupid idea? Everyone had seen it, the future the Darkness had promised on the Moon. Erebus, Aneira, Drifter, they stood by Cayde’s side as they witnessed visions from the monsters in the shadows.  The Nine knew what was coming, the giant illusions had been dropping hints, little pieces of information to push them in the right direction, or so Erebus thought. That damn Warlock was too trusting for her own good, hell, the woman thought Drifter was a saint. To be fair, she thought Cayde was as well. What if this was all a trick? What if they went through with this, would they play right into the Nine’s large hands? What would happen to the Tower? The Hunters? Was this all a ploy to get them to lower their guard? Accept the Darkness? The Vanguard’s fingers slid to the back of his neck, rubbing the cold metal as he felt his chest rumble with worry. They were on a time limit and no one else seemed to care. The Red War had ended and apparently everything was butterflies and rainbows. Zavala refused to look into the future, claiming that the present was more important. Ikora was too busy with her studies, searching for someone she called an old friend. Someone had to do something. “...Let’s do it.” Cayde-6’s voice was soft, unusually so as the Exo’s blue eyes latched upon Drifter’s form. The Derelict’s captain let out a sharp chuckle, it dug deep into Cayde’s ears, causing the Hunter to almost flinch. “Ya sure? I know you talk a big game but you’ve always been a goody two shoes. Can ya really take this next step?” To outsiders, it may have looked like the older man was mocking the Hunter, pushing his buttons, but that couldn’t have been farther from the truth. The brunette knew his friend, his morals and loyalty, they all laid within that damn Tower. Andal was all Cayde had back in the day, Could he really leave it all behind? The Exo turned his head, the orange lights within his mouth flickered as he attempted to come up with the right words. Jokes weren’t right here. Neither was sarcasm. Taking in a deep breath, the Hunter spoke. “I’m sure.” Pure honesty was the only way forward. Drifter nodded, taking in Cayde-6’s words and responding with as much honesty as he could. “Yer making the right choice brother.” The Exo snorted, rolling his eyes as he felt the light in his body brighten. He needed to hear that. He couldn’t let Drifter know that though.

It wasn’t long before the girls arrived upon the Derelict. Drifter loved calling them that, Erebus and Aneira were his girls, Cayde’s girls. Family. Aneira and Erebus were always attached at the hip, the two had a connection that was powerful, raw, and loving. It was almost like the Darkness had connected the two. Erebus was returning from a job, her body covered in the snake gear Drifter had made for her ages ago, the grumpy old man claimed it was to keep her identity hidden but Erebus knew the truth. The boss had needed the Warlock to go “borrow” some parts from Lord Shaxx’s latest shipment of guns. The two would dismantle the Crucible weapons, using the parts to make brand new toys for Gambit. Erebus loved tinkering with guns, testing out each creation before she handed it Drifter, proud to give her boss something that worked. The Exo was loyal, clever, Drifter still wasn’t able to admit it right to her face but he loved her more than anything. Ever since the accident on the Moon and Erebus losing her human body, Drifter became even more paranoid, any day could be the last. Erebus was patient however. She had told the man every day that she loved him with all her heart and soul. She knew he loved her just as much, but with the con-man’s past, she understood him struggling to reply. The Warlock could hear his worries. Aneira’s small form was in her usual Hunter gear, somehow she always seemed to make everything look fashionable. Anything on her looked amazing, glamorous. The armor made Cayde-6 swoon, his feet felt like they were walking on clouds. The Exo could hardly believe he found someone so perfect, and somehow, she liked him just as much? If this was a dream, Cayde never wanted to wake up. Aneira was sly, quick, she had the biggest heart he had ever seen in a person, not to mention she loved his jokes. Clearly she was insane. As the small Guardian removed her helmet, her purple-pink hair fell in front of her amber eyes as they gazed lovingly upon Cayde’s tired form. The Exo knew from day one that Aneira was going to change his life. Now here they were, ready to tackle enemies of the future hand in hand. Cayde-6 couldn’t think of a better way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

“Can...can we go over this again?” Erebus’s voice was uneasy as the Warlock placed the palm of her metal hand onto the map of the Clovis Exo Facility. The woman was so nervous, it felt like the entire universe was depending on this plan to work. That facility, it was like a monster. Something deep within was screaming, she could feel it. Darkness was everywhere, there was no doubt about that, but this building gave off such a horrible energy. Aneira could feel it too. Maybe even more so than Erebus. The Hunter placed a soft hand upon the Exo’s shoulder, giving her friend a smile. A gentle way of saying it will be okay. The girls had been best friends for years, they had come up with so many ways to comfort one another. Erebus could feel her metal lips tug into a smile, relaxing almost instantly from Aneira’s touch. Cayde’s hand sat on his chin, rubbing the metal of his jaw as his mind demanded another explanation of the plan. The Vanguard swore he listened but everyone knew it was a lie. Aneira could see the Exo’s eyes drift off, thinking about god knows what. Probably dinner, Colonel, or what color to paint his new sparrow. Drifter’s annoyed voice rose above the noise of the Derelict, the ship struggling to live as the man pulled one of his many jade coin’s from deep within his pocket. He may have had the best team in the whole universe but they had the listening skills of a four year old. “Alright! Let’s go over this one last time!” Drifter’s gloved thumb flicked the coin into the air, it sparkled in the ships dim lights causing everyone’s eyes to lock onto it.

Everyone’s eyes fell onto each other as Drifter’s coin landed firmly in the palm of his hand. The rouge may have finished speaking but it was clear everyone was still nervous. The old light felt a pinch of guilt floating around in his stomach. Drifter couldn’t do anything to ease the pain of what was to come, but he could damn well try. “Ya’ll look like the saddest vex in the system. We haven’t failed yet have we?” The con-man growled out, almost like he wasn’t just trying to convince the group, but himself as well. It had been ages, hell, thousands of years since he last had people in his life he could trust. The fear of it all crashing down made the back of his head burn. With a deep breath, Aneira opened her mouth, ready to voice her thoughts. “We can do this. But Ere and I would have to leave soon.” Cayde nodded, his blue eyes flashing with light as he remembered that his briefing with Zavala would be shortly. “You guys go now, I’ll head back to the Tower. Big Blue wants to talk to me, “correct behavior” and all that. It gives me a chance to stall so you guys can grab what you need and get back unnoticed.” Drifter’s hand reached up to his chin, playing with his beard. A sly grin coated his lips as the man spoke. “I’ll get everything set up here, that way we can start work right away when you get back.” Aneira turned, facing the Warlock who was busy staring at the center of the map. “Ere?” Erebus’s blue lights within her throat lit up as she spoke. “Do you think we can pull this off?.” Silence met the Warlock’s question. Cayde looked at Aneira, praying she would calm the Exo’s nerves but unfortunately Aneira had turned to look at Drifter, praying the same thing. “Kid-” As the older light bearer began to speak, Erebus quickly held up her hand, silencing the man. The Exo’s eyes were firmly locked on the map as she sighed softly. “No, I understand.” Slowly, Erebus gazed upon Aneira, a fake smile plastered on her metal mouth. “Let’s go.”  

Europa was a horrible moon, full of snow and...well snow. If Erebus could shiver, she would have been. “How are you so okay in this weather?!” The Warlock yelled over the harsh winds. She was just metal and wishful thinking put together, how was the human fine in these temperatures? Aneira couldn’t help but laugh as the Hunter watched her friend struggle through a snowbank, only to trip and fall face first into the soft whiteness of the planet. “Well, for one, I know how to walk.” A muffled grunt left Erebus’s throat before the exo began to move her arms and legs in a sweeping motion. “The hell are you doing?” Aneira walked over to her friend’s form, barely hearing Erebus’s answer. “Front facing snow angels.” The Exo muttered through the snow before attempted to get to her knees. Aneira giggled, grabbing onto the Warlock by her shoulders and helping her up. “Can’t you float?” “Not since I lost my light.” Erebus said sadly, kicking the ground as she began to walk once again. Guilt filled the Hunter, following behind the Exo to make sure she wouldn’t fall again. “But it’s okay, just means I can make ice cream with stasis!” Others would think this was a joke but Aneira could feel the pure joy behind Erebus’s words. Somehow losing the ability to float was okay because now she could make vanilla soft serve.  She may have lost her light, but she certainly didn’t lose what made her special. “And you didn’t show me how?” The Hunter teased as she wrapped her hands around Erebus’s arm, helping the Warlock as they walked towards the facility. It took the girls almost an hour to reach, trudging through the endless white snow, untouched for centuries. By the time they got to the door, both women were tired, cold, wet. All Aneira and Erebus wanted was a break, unfortunately they didn’t have time for that. The doors to the monstrous building let out a hiss as they opened up for the women. “...Are you ready?” Erebus’s voice was shaky as she latched onto her friends hand, squeezing it as tightly as she could. The Warlock couldn’t explain it, this rush of familiarity. Had she been here before? Drifter had found her on Europa, but this building seemed different. “I’m ready.” Aneira replied, squeezing her friend’s hand in return.

[candy-and-writing]

Fresh Mountain Air For A Not So Fresh Beginning

Summary: After a mission went horribly wrong, and resulted in you getting hurt and suffering from major PTSD and anxiety, your boys move you to the mountains to heal

Warnings: 18+, implied rape, past rape, PTSD, anxiety attacks, PTSD attacks, smut, oral, minor angst

Taglist: @imsonick @forever-a-cynical @captainn-americaa @natdrunk @patzammit @stupendousshepherdloverpony @thereluctantlady @bangtan-serendipity​

I am NOT responsible for your media content consumption. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and/or dark themes. By reading this work you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work posted on any third party app or website; if you are seeing this work anywhere other than tumblr and archiveofourown, it has been reposted without my permission.

Steve sat on the balcony, hot mug of coffee in hand as he watched Bucky raise the axe and bring it down, chopping the wood into two. The weather was supposed to get bad this week, so he made sure everyone was doing their chores now in case they lost power. You were sitting on the couch, humming along to the radio as you finished folding the laundry. Steve had gone into town for groceries earlier this morning and did the dishes, and Bucky was chopping firewood. You were pretty high up in the mountains, so the forecast wasn't clear on exactly how bad it was supposed to be. If you had to go a few days without running the dishwasher, it would be alright.

Steve came back inside, shutting the screen door behind him. He set his coffee down on the dining table before taking his coat off, moving to hang it up by the door.

"Hey," you said, folding one of Bucky's shirts in your lap. "Buck almost done?"

"He should be, he's got enough wood to keep us warm all winter."

You stopped, a pair of boxers in hand as you looked out the window. "If he doesn't come in soon, you might have to go get him. It looks like the wind's starting to pick up."

Steve nodded, setting his mug in the sink. He'd wait for Bucky to get in and have his coffee before he washed it.

The door that led to the garage opened, Bucky bumping it closed with his backside. He struggled to toe off his shoes, a string of curses leaving his mouth. His arms were full of chopped firewood, his nose and cheeks rosy from the cold. His recent haircut was hidden underneath a woven cap, keeping his ears warm. He was wearing the heavy wool flannel jacket you liked to steal from time to time when you were cold.

"Hey, doll," he greeted, piling the wood on the rack by the fireplace. Steve was right, he chopped enough wood to keep you warm all winter. "How's laundry goin'?"

"I'm almost done," you replied, a warm smile on your face. "If you want me to wash those, though—" you gestured to his clothing, "—you should change. I think I could manage to scrape together another load with the clothes from last night and this morning."

Bucky shrugged. "They're fine, sweetheart, don't worry about it."

Steve asked where Bucky had put the rest of the firewood, he responded with, "out in the garage. Figured it'd stay dry there."

You finished folding the laundry as Bucky warmed up with a cup of coffee, talking to Steve about the impending storm. When he finished his coffee, black with a little bit of sugar, Bucky and Steve met you in the bedroom to help put the clothes away. Bucky put things in drawers, and Steve handed you clothing to hang on hangers. That was what you always did, it was your routine. It worked. And when Buck was done putting the folded clothing away, he helped between handing Steve empty hangers and handing you the hangers that had clothes on them.

It was moments like these that made you forget the reason you moved up here. That made Steve retire early and made Bucky available only for short and sweet missions. The reason you had nightmares and woke up screaming each night, and your boys would struggle to comfort you because you were so stuck in your own head it became difficult to tell what was real.

It would be six months tomorrow, if the calendar was correct. It wasn't marked or anything, but it was easy enough to count down the days, the weeks, when they've been so blatantly haunting you. Like Steve said, one day at a time, and you counted every single day, waiting for it not to hurt anymore.

You had been on a mission with Bucky. Steve was with Sam in a small Siberian town while you two were in Turkey. It was hot and bright and it was sweaty. It's one of the reasons you moved to the mountains, to avoid the heat.

You had been checking out some old HYDRA intel. Bucky thought it was probably nothing, but you needed to be safe rather than sorry. It wasn't a big deal.

It wasn't supposed to be a big deal.

You and Bucky had split up. He took the upper levels and you took the lower ones. You had made it to the basement, so far finding nothing but empty file cabinets, too large of spiders, and outdated technology. Bucky had been sure to tell you to make sure and check that none of the computers worked.

You remembered calling Bucky through your comms. He said he hadn't found anything, and you were about to say the same. You had barely taken two steps into the room when you heard something shift behind you. Before you could turn around there was a sharp pinch in your neck and you winced, stumbling. Your vision became cloudy and your head spinny and you fell over before you even realized it.

When you awoke, Bucky was chained to the wall. You were chained down in the middle of the floor, your uniform gone. You—

"Y/n? Sweetie, you with us?" Bucky's voice dragged you from your thoughts. Steve was looking at you, a hand reached out and eyes full of worry. Bucky wore the same expression.

"Yeah," you smiled. "Sorry, I just blanked for a second. What were you saying?"

Steve continued to look at you with his worrying gaze. You just smiled at him, hopefully convincing him you were fine.

"I'm trying to convince Steve we need a dog," Bucky said. "We talked about it, but Steve still has a stick up his ass."

"I don't have a stick up my ass," Steve argued. You huffed out a laugh. "If we get a dog, we'll have to build a fence. And in moments like this when the weather is bad, we'll have a hard time taking care of it. We've had this discussion, Buck."

"So we invest in a therapy dog, those are a thing, right? It'd be trained, and we can have it to help Y/n. Or myself, Lord knows I need a dog sometimes."

Steve sighed. "You're not gonna let this go, are you?"

Bucky smiled. "I'd be willing to negotiate a cat?"

Steve looked over to you. You just smiled and shrugged. You both knew he wasn't winning this argument.

"We'll look into it after the storm," Steve sighed, defeated.

A smile broke onto your face, Bucky following. "Maybe Pepper can find some shelters?" you suggested.

"Yeah, I'll talk to her."

You kissed his cheek. Bucky pulled him in for a kiss, grabbing your hand and pulling you back into them. He kissed your head, Steve hugging you.

"I want a golden retriever," Steve demanded. You laughed.

"Deal."

••••

You lost power by eight o'clock that night. The wind was howling outside your windows, the blizzard knocking against the glass. You were eating ice cream and drinking the bottle of wine Steve had bought for date night when the TV shut down and the lights turned off all at once.

Steve had lit as many candles as he could while Bucky gathered your collection of many blankets. You sat on the floor, wine in hand and wrapped in a knitted blue throw while playing a game of Monopoly.

"That's bullshit!" Bucky shouted, throwing his hands up. "That's the fourth time I've landed on this stupid thing. Y/n, baby, please, you gotta help me out here."

You giggled. "I'm not trading this property with you, Buck. Not unless you give me an offer."

"Come on," Bucky whined, "work with me, baby."

Your eyes widened as your mind flashed back to that night, back to the basement. Come on, baby, work with me. You felt his hands on you, his fingers creeping up your skin. Bucky watched the color drain from your face, tears prickling at your eyes.

"Doll?" When you didn't respond, Steve realized what was happening.

"Shit, Buck, she's having a flashback." Steve stood, swiftly tucking his arm under your knees and picking you up.

It'll feel real nice, baby, just relax.

"I'll put her playlist on, can I do anything else?"

Steve was careful to set you on the bed, still cradling you and wiping the tears from your cheeks. Even in the dim lighting of the candles, he could see the fear in your eyes. "Warm a kettle over the fire, we can make her some hot chocolate."

Bucky nodded before rushing out of the room. You were shaking now, struggling to catch your breath.

"It's alright, baby, it's okay," Steve cooed. "You're safe, you're home. No one can hurt you, you're safe." He gave you a quick squeeze, his arms tightening around you.

He went through the list your therapist gave them back at the compound. Soft music, check. Dark room, check. Tight hug or pressure from Steve or Bucky, check. The weighted blanket was under the bed, he could have Bucky grab it if you wanted it.

Get her to open up, don't let her close herself off.

"Sweetie, I need you to talk to me," Steve uttered. "I can help get you through this, you just need to talk to me, to us."

You took a couple shaky breaths, opening your mouth before closing it again.

"The. . . the basement—I—and. . . and Bucky—"

"Buck is just fine, sweetheart," Steve answered, smiling slightly. "He's making you some hot chocolate."

You looked up at him, your eyes wide and watery. "He is?"

"Yeah, he should be in any minute."

You mouthed a silent 'oh' and curled back into Steve's chest. Bucky stepped in the bedroom quietly, a mug of hot chocolate in hand. He handed the black and gold star-spangled mug to Steve—it was your favorite, you claimed it reminded you of both your boys. Your hands shook as you took the mug from Steve, your grip lax and careful as you took a small sip. You mumbled a small thank you and looked at Bucky, who gave you a sad, small smile.

"Keep talking, sweetheart," Steve whispered into your hair. "Can you tell me five things you see around you?"

He heard you swallow, gathering your voice, and you started looking at the room around you. 

"I, um—I see Bucky," you said, your voice unsure. "I can see your shirt. . . the painting you made for me for my birthday, the wall, and the lamp."

"Good," Steve praised, "that's good. Tell me four things you can touch around you?"

You took another sip of the hot chocolate, the hint of cinnamon leaving a ghost of a smile on your face. "I'm touching my favorite mug, the one Bucky got me for Christmas last year. I'm touching the bedsheets. . . I'm touching you and your shirt by leaning on you, and if I reached I could touch Bucky."

Bucky reached out and took your hand in his, rubbing his thumb along the skin below your knuckles. You sighed, relishing in his touch. He asked you to name three things you could hear, Steve kissing your temples.

"I can hear your voice, I can hear Steve's heartbeat, and. . . and I can hear the wind outside."

"You're doing so good, doll, we're almost done. Name two things you can smell?"

You thought for a moment, inhaling to smell your surroundings. "I can smell. . . the hot chocolate you made me, with the cinnamon in it. And. . . I can smell Steve's cologne."

"One thing you can taste?"

The hot chocolate, you replied. Steve smiled and kissed your forehead, hugging you as Bucky squeezed your hand.

"How do you feel?"

"Better," you sighed. You clenched and unclenched your hand, your nerves tightening after the anxiety started to fall. Your head ached, your brain pounding at your temples. "I'm sorry I. . . freaked out."

"You don't have anything to apologize for, sweetheart," Bucky said. "We just want to make sure you're alright." You nodded, closing your eyes as you focused on Steve's heartbeat jumping steadily through his sweater.

"Can you tell us what caused this?" Steve asked. You were silent for a long moment, thinking back. You weren't quite sure yourself—one second you were drinking wine in the living room with Bucky and Steve, and the next you were in bed, clutching onto Steve because you couldn't breathe.

"I think—I think Bucky said something," you said. "Something that. . . that he had said and it just—it made me spiral."

"I'm so sorry, doll," Bucky said, kissing your knuckles as he looked at you apologetically.

"What did he say?" Steve asked.

You shook your head. "I don't know." You pushed your mug into Steve's hands, and he set in on the nightstand by the side of the bed. Your hands covered your face as you stifled a sob.

"Come here, sweetheart." Steve's heart broke as he hugged you closer to his chest. Bucky crawled over to the empty space on the bed next to you and rested his hand on your stomach, kissing your head. "Talk to us."

"I thought I could get past this," you told them, crying. "I—I can still feel him, I can still feel his hands on me and I don't know how to get it to stop!"

Steve looked over to Bucky, who looked back at him sadly. It was hard, seeing their best girl like this, and they were never quite sure how to help you. You didn't like them touching you a certain way after you were attacked, but maybe—just maybe—that was what you needed.

"How 'bout Stevie and I try something different tonight?" Bucky said, running his hand up and down your arm. 

"Like what?" you sniffled.

"We know you haven't wanted us to touch you since. . . you know, but do you think that would help?" Steve asked, looking down at you. "You keep feeling him on you, maybe we can help wipe him away? We're willing to wait as long as you need us to, baby, we just want to help you."

"I—I don't know."

"Are you willing to try?" Bucky whispered against your temple. "If you don't like it, tell us and we'll stop. Is that okay?"

You thought for a moment, nodding carefully. Steve placed a chaste kiss on your neck, inhaling your scent.

"Are you sure? We don't want to pressure you—if you don't feel comfortable doing this, we won't."

You shook your head. "I want to try. I want to see if I can do it. . . please."

More than anything, you wanted to please your boys. You wanted them to be happy and proud of you, you craved their appraisal like an addict craved pills. You weren't sure this was going to work, but you wanted to try, you'd try anything just to be able to feel Steve and Bucky touch you again.

Steve placed his hands under your arms, lifting you and shifting you so you sat in between his legs. Bucky crawled so he kneeled over you, and suddenly you were trapped. But that was okay, you were safe. You were with the two people you trusted the most, and you trusted they'd take care of you.

Bucky cupped your cheek with his hand, bringing you in for a soft kiss. Your shoulders relaxed as you leaned into his touch, Steve trailing kisses down your neck. You hesitantly moved your lips against Bucky's, placing your hands on his face and bringing him closer to you. You let out a whimper as Bucky licked your lips, asking for access. You allowed it, opening your mouth and letting his tongue roam with yours. He pushed you against Steve's chest, your back collided with solid muscle, Steve's hands trailing up under your sweater. You shuddered at the warmth, at the ghost-like touches he left in his wake as Bucky buried his hands through your hair.

It was almost too much, their touches, the way they were everywhere all at once. Their touch burned, but in a good way, almost. You didn't want them to stop. If they stopped now, you were certain you'd combust.

"Can I take this off?" Steve husked against your ear, tugging at your sweater. You nodded, and he was quick to pull it over your head, leaving you in your push-up bra.

Steve bit back a groan, nibbling on your ear as Bucky trailed sloppy kisses down your jaw. You whined out a moan, Steve grabbing at your breasts. A spark of panic shot through you and your eyes shot open. You pulled away from Steve, pushing Bucky away.

"Hey, hey, sweetheart," Steve cooed, reaching out to grab your arm. "It's okay. You're okay, baby. It's just me."

Your chest fell and rose heavily. Bucky cupped your cheek, kissing your nose. "It's just us, doll. You're safe. . . . Do we need to stop?"

You looked up at him. You didn't want to stop, you wanted to enjoy them, you wanted to make then feel good. But this damn sense of panic wasn't going away.

"I want to keep going," you told them, eyes watery. "I want to make you feel good, I want to feel good. I just. . . can't stop this."

"Just relax, baby," Bucky muttered. "Focus on us. On our touch. Know that it's us and just focus on how good we'll make you feel."

You nodded, leaning back against Steve's chest. You told him he could touch you again, guiding his hands to your chest. He added the slightest pressure and squeezed, your breasts in his hands as you shuddered out a breath.

"Oh."

"That feel good, baby?" Steve asked, kissing your neck as Bucky attacked the other side. You nodded, sighing as you melted into his touch. "I bet it does, sweetheart. I can't imagine how you feel, not being able to let us make you feel good. We're here now, we're gonna take real good care of you."

"I love you," you sighed, digging your nails into Bucky's hair. "Both of you."

"We love you too, doll." Bucky kissed down your collar bone, his lips at the edge of your bra. Steve reached and unclipped your bra, letting it slide down your shoulders. Bucky was quick to dispose of it, throwing it to the floor. "You're so beautiful, baby."

You cried out Bucky's name as his lips latched onto your nipple, Steve rolling the other one between his fingertips. You focused on your boys, on the sensation of Bucky—of his tongue swirling against your hardened bud, of his hand cupping your cheek, of his hand in your hair. You focused on Steve—on his hands, on the solid muscle behind your back, of the feeling of his hair in your fingers.

Bucky's hand fell to your pants. "Can I take these off, baby?"

You nodded, afraid to use your voice. He unbuckled your jeans, slowly sliding them down your legs, off your feet. You had on cheeky lace underwear. Suddenly, you thought back to when you used to wear much less conservative underwear. Steve and Bucky always liked those—your decorative thongs, your favorite pair used to be lace with flowers. You got rid of them after you were attacked, but maybe you could get some new, less casual ones.

Bucky licked his lips, staring at your clothed core. Steve's hands kneaded at your breasts, thumb brushing over your nipple as he kissed a line on your shoulder. Bucky was quick to pull at your underwear, leaving you completely exposed.

"You okay, sweetheart?" Steve asked quietly. You nodded, keeping eyes on Bucky.

Bucky looked up at you, eyes dark. The flickering flame casted a reflection upon his face, giving him a goldish glow. The wind howled outside, ice hitting the window. Normally, that sound would've had you jumping three feet into the air in terror, but now you couldn't care less—too caught up in the way Bucky's eyes darkened as he asked for permission. When you nodded, he slid down, laying on his stomach, and dove in.

You had almost forgotten what it felt like to have Bucky's tongue wrapped around your clit. You moaned as he licked up in a broad swipe, focusing the tip of his tongue on your bud. Steve massaged your chest, tweaking your nipples and running over them with the pads of his fingers.

"Oh, God. . ." you whined. "Keep going, please. Don't—don't stop."

"Wouldn't dream of it, princess," Steve moaned.

Bucky continued to work his mouth on you until you were burning, writhing and struggling in both his and Steve's grasps. You were sure you were going to explode. When Bucky entered a finger into you, you cried out. It wasn't enough. You needed more.

"How's that feel, baby?" Steve cooed, hands focusing on your breasts. "Buck doin' good?"

You nodded frantically. Steve chuckled in your ear, voice gravelly and low.

"Buck here almost couldn't wait any longer, all we wanted to do was get his mouth on you, sweetheart. It's what he dreamed about when he touched himself, when he sucked me off. He's been waiting for this."

Bucky hummed into your flesh, sending vibrations up through your clit. He was careful as he pushed a second finger into you, looking for the spot inside you that could shatter you. That coil inside you was tight, threatening to explode and send you over the edge. You began to babble, endless pleas of 'don't stop,' and 'Bucky, please.'

He pushed the pads of his fingers up, still teasing your bundle of nerves and that was all it took. You cried out, the coil snapping like a taught rubber band and you grinded back into Steve as you tried to pull away, overstimulated. Steve shushed you, whispering in your ear as Bucky rode you from your high until it was simply too much. You whined, your voice cracking, and Bucky seemed to get the message. He pulled away, his chin slick with your juices. Still blissed out, he hooked his finger under your chin, bringing you in for a sloppy kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, salty and tangy.

You didn't realize you were crying until Bucky wiped away a tear. "You okay, doll?"

You nodded. "Yeah. . . yeah, I just—I hadn't realized how much I missed this. I'm sorry I made you wait on me."

"You have nothing to apologize for, sweetheart," Steve said, kissing your cheek. "We'd wait as long as you needed us to."

You sat up, turning so you straddled Steve's lap. You hung your arms over his shoulders, brushing your noses together.

"Can you do something for me?" you asked, your voice low and sultry in post-orgasmic bliss.

"Anything," Steve answered, ask too quickly.

"I want you to fuck me. I want you to erase any memory of that man inside of me. Can you do that?"

"Happily."

He kissed you then, loving and dominant and so incredibly Steve. Bucky kissed up your neck, sucking a deep red spot next to the many Steve had left. You whimpered into Steve's lips, dragging your hands up his shirt. He pulled away for a second, discarding his shirt and sitting up on his knees, shimmying off his pants. He turned you around before settling back down, having you straddle his thighs.

"You sure you're up for this, baby?" Bucky asked, kissing behind your ear as his fingers danced around your nipples.

You nodded, whining. "I—I can do it."

Steve hummed, feeling himself brush against your folds. Bucky gave you his signature dorky smile, which you returned as best you could. Steve eased into you slowly, both men watching for any sign of discomfort. You were wet enough, but you were still awfully tight. Tighter than usual. Even after your orgasm, Steve was having a hard time fitting himself inside you.

The three of you haven't had sex since before the attack. Bucky and Steve had quick shower sex in the morning sometimes after a run, when they were sure you were still asleep, but they didn't like doing it without you. You were apart of them, doing such an intimate act without you didn't feel right.

Steve groaned at the feeling, the silky heat of you clutching him like a vice. He grunted, wrapping an arm around your front and hugging you close to his chest, carefully rocking his hips up. His thrusts start out slow and deep, until you're writhing and mewling for more.

Bucky crawls up and straddles both you and Steve, his tongue curling around your nipple. He wraps his tongue around your bud, sucking lightly. You let out a whimper, moaning as Steve speeds his pace up, pounding into you in the most delicious way. Bucky guides your hand and wraps it around his cock, moving it up and down in long, slow strokes. You withdrew your hand like he had burned you, your eyes wide. Steve stills inside you, watching your back muscles tense.

"It's okay, doll, it's just me. . . . Do we need to stop?"

You blinked. "No, no—I'm okay. I'm sorry."

"Are you sure?"

You nodded. "Please, I want to keep going, I can do this." You reached out and grabbed for his length, your nimble fingers wrapping around him.

It's just Bucky, he won't hurt you. You're safe here.

Quickly, you fall into the rhythm Steve has set, your other hand moving to clutch Bucky's shoulder as he fucks into your hand.

It's easy, the three of you moving in tandem. You don't know how long it's been, how long either of them have touched you like this, or when you last touched them. You feel guilty now, forgetting something that made you feel so good.

"Steve," you moan. "Bucky, please."

"You're doing so good, baby," Bucky praised. "You—ah, fuck—you feel so good."

You whined, Steve picking up his pace. You weren't going to last much longer, not with Steve pounding into you the way he is, not with him groaning in your ear and not with Bucky using your hand to get himself off.

"Can I come inside, baby?" Steve moans. "Fill you up, wash out every memory of that day. Fuck—we're gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart, all you have to do is let us."

"Yes," you nodded frantically. "Yes, please, please. I need you. Come inside, please, Stevie."

Bucky reached down and rubbed at your clit, sending you over the edge. You screamed, seizing up and convulsing around Steve's cock. Steve cursed, feeling you pulsate around him. He came with a grunt, coating your walls with his cum. Bucky finished soon after, covering your stomach with his cum.

You released Bucky, falling back against Steve in exhaustion. When you opened your eyes again, Steve was petting your hair while Bucky cleaned up his mess with a wet washcloth.  Steve whispered sweet nothings in your ear, running his fingers through your sweat soaked locks.

I'm so proud of you.

You did so good.

So perfect for us.

We love you.

After Bucky tossed the cloth in the wicker laundry basket, he laid down in the space next to you, hugging you close to his chest. Your hand rested across Steve's pecs, your head above his heartbeat.

"You did so well, sweetheart," Bucky purred, tracing circles along your back. "How do you feel?"

"Good," you hummed, snuggling closer to Steve's warmth. "Real good."

"That's amazing, baby," Steve murmured. "Did it help any?"

You nodded. It helped a lot, actually. The throbbing between your legs was welcoming, euphoria coursing through veins. You hated yourself for connecting your boys with the kind of hate you experienced, for making them wait so long.

"Let's go to sleep, doll." Bucky kissed your shoulder. "We can talk more in the morning, if we have power I'll make some waffles."

You hummed in content, sleep overtaking you. Bucky wrapped an arm around your middle, with Steve wrapping his arm behind you both.

"I love you."

[tyrantisterrorart]

Godzilla Gang Revised: Monsters of Myth

In this entry of the Godzilla Gang Revised, we focus on monsters from a lost age of human history, when select humans merged with the few surviving Venusians and created an empire of magitech wonders.  An age of dragons and phoenixes, wizards and heroes.  These are the monsters of myth, creatures that modern man considers mere legends - until they re-emerge into the world as a new age of monsters begins.

The kaiju profiles here will be written in the order they appear on the size chart, BTW.

King Shisa: largest and greatest of the Shisa lion dogs, King Shisa swore an oath to defend the land that would eventually be named Okinawa.  The mighty mammal fought many battles to protect his home and the humans that came to dwell there, and was rewarded with a set of enchanted armor and a golden crown for his efforts.  He was so devoted that, in his old age, he allowed himself to be enchanted, turning his body to stone so he could better withstand the passing of time, only to become flesh and blood once more when Okinawa’s hour of need comes again.

Manda: one of the largest specimens of Asian dragon, Manda is an abnormally large ryujin, a dragon species that specializes in causing seastorms.  Though prone to terrorizing humans in her youth, Manda eventually befriended the people of Mu, a colony of the great civilization of Nirai Kanai.  When a cataclysm of their own design was poised to destroy them, Manda helped the people of Mu survive in the depths of the Ocena, and has guarded their underwater fortress for thousands of years since.

Megalon: an enormous beetle, it is unclear if Megalon is a relic of the first Atomic era, the Atomic Ice Age, or some other strange circumstance.  What is known is that he is a protector, having shepherded early groups of humans to underground shelters in humanity’s prehistory.  His kind and trusting nature eventually saw him employed by the civilization of Nirai Kanai, and he served them loyally - even when defending them brought him into conflict with the daughters of Inagos (and Battra in particular).  When Nirai Kanai fell, Megalon helped a large colony survive by building a large underground cavern for them to hide in, and so founded the subterranean world of Seatopia.  The Seatopians “repaid” Megalon by allowing some strange humanoids who called themselves “Space Hunters” to experiment on him, removing one set of his arms and replacing his original claws with enormous drills.  Though kind-hearted, Megalon’s trusting nature and indefatigable loyalty often prove his undoing, and the dull-minded creature is often put into bad situations by his poisonous friends.

Gabara: a warty amphibious ogre, Gabara’s roar is worse than his electric shocks.  Physically weak for a creature of his size and utterly unskilled in combat, Gabara depends on being able to scare other monsters away for survival, as any that actually try to fight him will quickly realize how weak of an opponent he is.  Luckily, he is aided by his unusual and strong connection to the psychic plane, which allows Gabara to manifest in the dreams of others and turn them into horrible nightmares.  Creatures unfortunate enough to live in the area Gabara is currently nesting in will suffer recurring bad dreams, with the ogre portrayed as a dire threat beyond all others in them.  As a result, most creatures that encounter the beast are too paralyzed with fear to act against him, allowing Gabara to beat them up in their terror-stricken state before beating a hasty retreat when they begin to regain control.

Gekido Jin: The largest and cruelest of all oni, Gekido Jin menaced the country that would become Japan.  His reign of terror was only ended when King Shisa faced him in combat, beating the the oni into submission so a shrine maiden could bind the tyrant in a powerful enchantment, turning Gekido-Jin to stone.  However, much like King Shisa (who would go under a similar enchantment willingly), Gekido Jin can rise again, if a human being gives their life to end the enchantment.  What dark hour could inspire such a sacrifice scarcely bears contemplation.

Axor: a serpent-like creature, cults of Axor have been found all over the world, and the three-eyed serpent is always spoken of with a mix of reverence and abject dread.  A hypnotic and mind-controling tyrant, Axor enslaved vast nations in his heyday, and was set to rule the world before he faced resistance from an unlikely source.  Refugees from Venus arrived on earth, sporting psychic powers comparable to Axor’s own, and quickly merged with humanity to combat the reptile’s cruel reign.  Soon Axor was forced to retreat from the psychic assault of the Venusians, and the civilization they forged on Earth established several safeguards to prevent him from returning.  Of course, Nirai Kanai eventually fell to their own hubris, their survivors scattered and lost, their vast cities almost entirely reduced to dust - and so Axor may rise again...

Crustaclops: A strange hybrid of crustacean and man, the beast that modern kaijuologists call Crustaclops is in fact one of the earliest artificially created chimeras of Nirai Kanai.  Though crude compared to their later efforts, his ability to turn invisible and levitate large objects (or even creatures) still makes him a formidable creature, and his nature as a hybrid of terrestrial and aquatic species proved to be a winning formula in the eyes of his creators.  (Based on the Cyclops Creature from The Godzilla Power Hour.)

Balkzardan: primarily a hybrid of shark and wolf (among other things), Balkzardan can run faster than almost any other kaiju, while still sporting thick armor that keeps it safe from harm.  Though useful as a weapon of war, Balkzardan’s primary purpose was to control the weather, with the ability to summon and channel lightning through its horns and call down hail from the skies.  This is where the monster went wrong, as Balkzardan went berserk and created vast horrible storms across the world, forcing the people of Nirai Kanai to seal him away and try a different experiment.

Jyarumu: designed to be a bit less ambitious than Balkzardan, Jyarumu kept the ability to freeze opponents (though not the ability to summon ice storms) and was otherwise built to be a weapon first and foremost.  Huge and stronge, Jyarumu’s durable wings allow him to fight enemies on land, sea, and sky.  Unfortunately, she was a bit too enthusiastic about her job, and also had to be sealed away.

Dagarla: a vast sea dragon, Dagarla was meant to keep the oceans from getting polluted, and initially he was very good at this task.  Unfortunately, a species of parasitic starfish that latched onto him mutated into the deadly and poisonous barem, and began to reproduce uncontrollably by leeching off of the sea monster’s bodily fluids.  The people of Nirai Kanai could not figure out how to stop Dagarla’s barem infestation, which were now threatening all of the earth’s seas, and so were forced to seal Dagarla away as well, much to the dragon’s shock and dismay.  Dagarla did not take the betrayal well, and now harbors a grudge against humanity.

Rajin: a chimera of various arthropods, Rajin was meant to create vast quantities of food for humanity and thereby end world hunger.  However, the food produced by Rajin proved incredibly addictive, and soon people clamored to devour Rajin alive.  The monster did not take this well, and Rajin not only killed thousands of humans, but began to attack any representatives of Nirai Kanai who attempted to reclaim him.  So, like many other creations, he was sealed away.

Norzekmet: Nirai Kanai and its various sub-countries did not stick merely to flesh and blood kaiju.  Living statues, the predecessors to modern humanity’s mecha, were also among their creations, and the crown jewel of these was Norzekmet, a flying sphinx made of metal and carved stone.  A powerful and loyal servant, Norzekmet continues to defend the civilization of his masters, even after their death. (Based on Norzzug from Godzilla: The Series, as well as Michael Dougherty’s description of what the unseen Monsterverse kaiju Sekmet.)  

Norzug:  Even ancient civilizations have a march of progress, and Norzekmet’s predecessor, Norzug, is proof of that.  While far cruder in construction than its improved successor, Norzug proved just as durable and long-lasting, working with its younger “sibling” to protect the ruins of their masters all the way to the present day.  (Based on the Stone Guardians from The Godzilla Power Hour.)

Majin Tuol: Another pinnacle of Nirai Kanai technology, the golden guardian Majin Tuol is second to Norzekmet only because of the gaudy choices in his construction, as the gold used for his outer covering is not as durable as the alloys that cover his sphinx-like cousin.  Nevertheless, he is a powerful foe in battle, and waits in the ruins of his master’s home for the day when he is called to action again.  (Based on the Golden Guardians from The Godzilla Power Hour.)

Mekolossus: While less ornate and more obviously mechanical than the other technical marvels of its age, Mekolossus is still an impressive feat of engineering, with a stream-lined metal body and powerful tentacles tipped with sharp pincers.  The machine still guards the ruins of Atlantis, one of the largest and most famous cities of the Nirai Kanai empire.  (Based on the Atlantean Colossus from The Godzilla Power Hour.)

NEXT TIME ON THE GODZILLA GANG REVISED: Children of the A-Bomb!

[fruitcoops]

eve omg omg omg the jules fic was so amazing!!!! i'm so excited for the rest :))))

Here’s part two of Adventures in Babysitting! The editing was being finnicky, so I’m sorry for the wait. Hope you enjoy! Sweater Weather and Jules credit belongs to @lumosinlove!

“Are you warm enough?” Sirius asked as he swiped Jules’ bangs beneath the edge of his beanie. Jules nodded, still sleepy even at seven thirty in the morning. “D’accord, let’s get going. Re, did you let Hattie out?”

“Yep, she’s all set in the living room.” Remus kissed him as he passed, hauling his duffel up and resting his hand between Jules’ shoulder blades to guide him down the steps. “Careful, buddy, it’s slippery.”

“I know,” Jules mumbled. “D’you think it’ll snow?”

Sirius looked up—the sky was still fairly dark, but smudges of thick grey clouds seemed to be rolling in. “Probably.”

The drive to the rink was quiet and peaceful; a six o’clock wake up call was tough even on the best of mornings, when they didn’t have a third tiny person to worry about. Regulus sounded like he was waking as they left the house, and Sirius hoped he’d stick around long enough to say goodbye. Pascal’s house wasn’t far, but Sirius knew he would miss having him around.

“Morning, boys,” Remus called as they entered the locker room.

“Morning,” Kasey yawned, stretching his thigh out. “How’s the kid?”

“Sleepy.”

“Big mood. He’s with Moody again today?”

“Yep. They’ll probably come watch again at some point.” Remus smiled to himself. “Thank you guys for showing off yesterday, by the way. He couldn’t stop talking about it the whole evening.”

“Who’s ready to win a game?” James whooped, barging in and looking far too awake for his own good.

Leo frowned. “Game’s tomorrow, Pots.”

“It’s never too early to get hyped, baby rookie.” James patted him on the head as he passed and Leo scowled.

“I’m not a rookie anymore! Loops is!”

“If I call Loops a rookie, he’s going to make sure I never have children again,” James laughed, throwing a t-shirt to Remus from across the aisle. “Here, I borrowed that a couple weeks ago.”

Remus gave it a tentative sniff. “Dude, you didn’t even wash it?”

“It’s something to remember me by.”

“You’re a walking nightmare.”

“Nah, you love me.”

There was a new intensity to their practice that morning—they had beat the Ravens before, sure, but that didn’t mean they were guaranteed to win this time. Even James centered himself, tapping a puck back and forth with Remus until it was nothing but a blur between them. Sirius didn’t see Jules or Moody at any point throughout their ice time, which left him a little disappointed when the timer went off and it was time to hit the gym.

They all did lighter workouts, more like cool down exercises rather than legitimate muscle-building routines. Sirius let himself fall into the rhythm of squats, pushups, and jump-roping until each beat of his heart aligned with the impact of his feet on the mats. The jingle of his ringtone finally signaled the end of practice and a collective sigh went up.

“See you tomorrow, gents,” Nado said as he stood and stretched his back. Sirius felt the mood change as the pre-game heaviness settling over them like a weighted blanket.

Remus wandered over and gave his shoulder a light nudge. “I’ll shower and get Jules while you finish up, yeah?”

“Sounds good. I’ll be quick.” Sirius pressed their foreheads together in lieu of a kiss before turning back to the rest of the guys as stretches began. “You know the spiel. Get some sleep, carb load, all that jazz.”

“Got it, Cap,” Leo said. He tried for a smile, though he looked troubled.

“The Ravens are a great team, but we’re better. We beat them before and we can do it again. Shake off the weird vibes, okay? We can do this.” We have to if we want to make it to the playoffs, he thought instinctively before reaching over to tap the strip of wooden floor that the mats didn’t quite cover. Nope. No playoff thoughts. Just the game.

Eight minutes and a dozen fist-bumps later, they arrived at the locker room in a jumble of bodies. Sirius paused at the end of the hall and heard more than one quiet ‘awww’; Remus was waiting outside, as promised, with Jules fast asleep in his arms. He winked when he saw them and held a finger to his lips, stepping out of the way so they could sneak past.

Moving over a dozen fully-grown hockey players through a small space was not the most stealthy of activities, especially when all of them lingered to get a look at the sleeping child—it was no surprise that Jules woke up partway through and blinked drowsily at them. “Hmm?”

“It’s okay, buddy, you can sleep,” Remus murmured, hitching him a little higher up. “We’re heading home soon.”

“But I wanna watch,” Jules said, pouting slightly. Kasey made a soft noise and put his hand over his heart.

“You can watch the game tomorrow,” James said in a gentle voice. It wasn’t baby talk, persay, but Sirius had definitely heard him use that same soothing tone when Harry started to fuss. Jules snuggled his face into Remus’ neck again with a hum.

Sirius showered quickly and grabbed his bag, barely checking to see if his stuff was all there before ducking out of the locker room with a final mock-salute to the guys. “How long has he been asleep?” he asked as he picked up Remus’ duffel.

“He was out cold on the PT table.” Remus laughed under his breath. “Moody said he was a firecracker for about an hour and a half, but he came back from the bathroom and found him all curled up.”

“That’s so fucking cute. Did you get a picture?”

“Already sent it to my folks.” Remus carefully set Jules in the backseat of the car and buckled him in while Sirius closed the trunk as quietly as he could. Once they were in their respective seats, Remus leaned over the console and gave him a proper kiss, nice and slow. It sent a buzz all the way down to Sirius’ toes.

The lights were off at the house when they arrived; Jules was fully awake by then and Sirius watched his face fall at the same time his own heart clenched. “Regulus left.”

“Yeah, I think so. It’s okay, we’ll see him tomorrow.” Sirius added the last sentence partly for himself—he tried to keep in mind that Regulus was an adult and had moved out ages ago, but they had settled into their routine so quickly. He didn’t want the house to feel empty again.

“Hey.” Remus’ hand was light on his elbow and he blinked, looking over at his smile. “You alright?”

“Yeah, all good. Let’s get some lunch.” He offered a smile that he knew was weak, but Remus linked their hands all the same and kissed his cheek before getting both their bags out of the back.

Jules was playing hopscotch with the checkerboard of ice patches on the sidewalk; it had snowed while they were at practice, after all. There was a faint bark from inside and Jules gasped happily, racing toward the front door with reckless abandon and pressing his face against the wood. “Hi, Hattie-girl!”

Sirius unlocked the door, bending slightly to absorb her impact as she tumbled into them both and covered Jules’ face in kisses, wiggling to pieces with sheer joy. She sprinted for her toy box and grabbed a knotted rope, trotting back to Jules for him to grab the other end and tug.

“Do we have leftovers from last night?’ Remus called from the doorway when Sirius headed into the kitchen.

“I don’t think so, but we have turkey. How does a sandwich sound?”

“F—uh, really great.” Remus grimaced as he walked in and dropped his wallet on the counter. “I have got to be better about my language. Mom’s still mad at me for teaching Jules to say ‘fuck’, and that was years ago.”

“You had no qualms about teaching Harry bad words.”

“And you had no qualms about being on a desert island without me,” Remus said coolly. “Yet here we are.”

“Touché.” Sirius turned around to construct the sandwiches and felt someone lightly slap his ass. He laughed, raising an eyebrow. “Hello.”

“Hey,” Remus grinned, stealing a slice of cheese from his small pile and hopping up to sit on the counter.

“I don’t know why you do that.”

“Slap your ass or steal food? I do both because I love you.”

“I meant sitting on the counter. You know, where we eat.”

“I like to feel extra tall,” Remus said, reaching for another slice of cheese until Sirius gently smacked his hand away.

“Shortie.”

“Fuck off.”

“That’s a bad word,” Jules said from the doorway with a smile. He looked quite disheveled from playing with the dog.

Remus sighed. “It is, indeed. Don’t repeat it.”

“I could.”

“But you won’t.”

“I could.”

“I’ll tell mom.”

“She’d blame you for teaching me.”

“I’ll tell dad.”

“He’d think it was hilarious, and then he’d tell mom and she’d chew you out.”

Remus rolled his eyes and scooted over to make room for Jules to hop up next to him. Sirius threw his hands in the air. “Both of you! What the hell? Who taught you to do that?”

They shared a glance and shrugged. Sirius was starting to understand why people thought it was creepy how similar he and Regulus looked. “It’s a side effect of being the wiry kids on the block when everyone else is taller,” Remus said, snorting as Jules flexed his skinny arms.

Sirius handed them each a sandwich and, with a heavy sigh, boosted himself up to join them. The marble was cold, but it was…kind of fun to swing his legs and get a few extra inches of height. “I think he likes it,” Jules stage-whispered to Remus.

“It’s not horrible,” Sirius conceded, taking a bite of his food.

“Come to the Dark Side, we have the best places to sit.”

Jules widened his eyes and wiggled his fingers at Sirius until they were all laughing too hard to actually eat, then fell into silence as hunger took precedence after not having anything substantial since breakfast. “Are you good with reading or watching TV for a bit while we take a nap?” Remus asked between sips of water. Jules nodded, still making his way through his sandwich.

“What’re we doing after?”

Sirius paused at the same time Remus stopped halfway through a drink of water. They made eye contact, and he knew they were thinking the exact same thing: oh, fuck, we actually have to do things with a child around. “Uh, we’re…going to the park,” Remus said.

Jules made a happy noise around his sandwich and swung his legs. “Cool!”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

“Okay, mom.”

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

The park was a winter wonderland, to say the least. Four inches of snow coated the grassy field and weighed down the branches of the trees lining the playfield, where about a dozen kids built snowmen with their parents. Hattie’s breath fogged the window as they parked and her wagging tail lightly smacked Jules’ forehead every few seconds.

Jules was out of the car the second Sirius turned the engine off, grabbing Hattie’s leash and leaping into the nearest snowbank with a whoop. Remus burst out laughing and followed him with a final glance over his shoulder to Sirius.

They were making halfhearted snow angels when he finally wandered over to the snowbank. They looked so peaceful, so content and happy.

Remus gasped when the first snowball hit him dead center in his chest. Jules laughed even harder until the next one landed in the neck of his coat and poured a veritable waterfall of snow down his front. They both stared up at Sirius in shock and betrayal; he grinned and tucked his chilly hands into his pockets.

“Go for the legs, Jules,” Remus advised as he scrambled up, keeping one hand on his beanie so it didn’t fall off.

Sirius barely made it three steps before Jules grabbed him around the shin and nearly tripped him. He did his best not to drag the kid face-first through the snow, but Jules didn’t seem to mind as he hooked an arm around his other ankle and Remus collided with his shoulder, sending all three of them to the ground in a heap. “Ugh.”

“Gotcha,” Jules said, clambering onto his chest with a breathless smile. Hattie, who had come over to see what all the fuss was about, began licking his half-frozen ear.

Remus sprinkled a handful of snow onto his face, slowly obscuring his view until everything was icy and white. “Vengeance is sweet, huh, buddy?”

“Totally.”

Sirius wiped the snow away and blinked up at two pairs of amber eyes. “I surrender?”

“I should hope so,” Remus laughed as he stood up and brushed himself off, offering a hand to help him to his feet. He kissed his nose in consolation as Jules took Hattie’s leash and ran off toward the playfield, where he would no doubt make seven new best friends within the hour.

“Cute kid,” a middle-aged woman with a kind smile said as she stopped next to them.

“Isn’t he?” Sirius smiled as Hattie rolled onto her back for belly rubs from three different kids.

“How old?”

“Ten.”

Her eyebrows rose and she looked at Remus. “You must have been young when you had him.”

“What? Oh, no, he’s my little brother!” he said quickly.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, you just look so similar,” she laughed, clearly embarrassed.

“No worries, it happens all the time. Which one is yours?”

She pointed to a giggling little girl on the swings, whose dark curls were braided back into a poofy bun. “Lena turned twelve yesterday.”

“Aw, happy birthday to her!” Sirius wrapped his arm around Remus’ waist and put his hand in his back pocket, pulling him close for warmth. They both waved to Jules when he looked over and beamed at them.

The temperature dropped rapidly as four thirty came and the sun began to set; soon, the fat flakes of snow grew smaller and icier as they flurried around the park. Lena and her mother left about half an hour before Remus started bouncing on his toes in an effort to keep warm. Sirius considered himself a decent fiancé, so he figured it would be best to not let Remus freeze solid.

Jules was damp and shivering with melted snow when they got back to the house and Hattie immediately laid down in front of the heater vent as he ran upstairs for a hot bath; Remus and Sirius peeled their soaked outer layers off and hung them in the bathroom to dry.

“If he gets hypothermia, mom’s gonna kill me,” Remus muttered as he shook Jules’ scarf out over the bathtub, though Sirius could see the genuine concern in his eyes.

“He’ll be fine,” he assured him with a gentle hip check. “We were only there for a couple hours and we left pretty quick after it got really cold.”

“He was shivering in the car.”

“Re.” Sirius set his coat down and took Remus’ face between his hands. “Jules will be just fine.”

“We would be really good parents.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Not now, obviously, but I think we’d be good parents.” Sudden nervousness shadowed his face. “Sorry, that was way out of the blue. Do you—do you not want that?”

“No, I do! I really, really do but…we’ve never talked about it before. Like, in depth.” I wouldn’t be a good dad. I barely know what a good parent looks like, aside from yours and the Potters.

Remus relaxed. “Oh. Well, I don’t think it would be a great idea to adopt kids while we’re still working full time playing hockey, but in the future…” He shrugged, the edge of his mouth ticking up in a smile. “I think about it sometimes.”

“Me, too.” There was a splash upstairs and they both laughed. “Well, I guess we’re about to have an indoor swimming pool.”

“I’ll get the towels.”

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

Sirius was almost done with the dinner dishes when he realized he hadn’t heard much noise from Jules’ room in quite a while, and yet Remus had yet to come back downstairs. He paused, listening to the muffled voices—no, not voices. Just one.

He rinsed the last plate and washed his hands, making a face at the weird soap texture and the ensuing dryness of his knuckles. There were few chores he genuinely disliked, but dishes were one of them.

The door to the guest bedroom was still open when he went upstairs, and a soft light shone out. He stopped in the doorway, a greeting dying in his throat.

“—‘hold it up!’ said Gandalf. ‘And look closely!’” Remus lowered his voice into a grumble as he read Gandalf’s lines; Jules was entranced, though he struggled to keep his eyes open for more than three seconds at a time. “As Frodo did so, he now saw fine lines, finer than the finest pen-strokes, running along the ring, outside and inside: lines of fire that seemed to form the letters of a flowing script.”

He glanced over his shoulder and smiled at Sirius, flushing faint pink. In the pause, Jules sighed softly. “Why’d you stop?”

“We’ll pick it up again tomorrow night,” Remus whispered, brushing his fringe out of his eyes. “Sleep well, buddy.”

“Sweet dreams,” Sirius added.

Jules mumbled and snuggled deeper under the blankets while Remus set the book on the nightstand and turned the bedside lamp off.

“That was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” Sirius said as soon as he had closed the door behind them and they walked down the hall to their bedroom. “Was that The Hobbit?”

“Fellowship of the Ring. It’s one of my favorites, and he picked it up this afternoon while we were napping.” Remus pulled his shirt off and sifted through their sheets for his pajama pants. “Did you do the dishes?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks, baby. That was really sweet of you.”

“You were busy being adorable.”

“Shush,” Remus scoffed, though the blush returned to his cheeks as he curled up under the covers and made grabby hands toward Sirius. “C’mere.”

The bed was cold when he laid down, but Remus was warm, and soon they were tangled together as the moon shone through their window. Sirius drifted off to slow breaths and dreams of the future, where maybe—just maybe—their kid wouldn’t have to leave after four more days. 

[artificialqueens]

Vicks VapoRub-Me (Trixya) - DenDenMonMon

Of Lovers, Friends and Everything in Between. Part 6.- Unwell

Title: Vicks VapoRub-Me Category: M/M Summary: Unfortunately, he has never eaten knives before, but he figures it would feel similar to this. Notes: Massive disclaimer, this is by far not my best work. I woke up one day feeling like absolute shit, so it felt appropriate that I portrayed exactly that, that’s why I decided to take on this prompt. Seriously felt like dying and couldn’t even function properly, so I kinda gave up on this; then Miss Corona decided to come visit and I didn’t really feel like writing a sickfic at the time. Anyways, it took me months to finish this simple one shot but here it is. I hope you enjoy! (because I still feel like dying). -Monkey Written: Feb 21st, 2020 - April 25th, 2020

Vicks VapoRub-Me

 “I am so sorry, Pete,” he lets out before sniffing yet again. “You know I wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t bad. I seriously feel like absolute shit.” He moves the phone away from his face as a sudden sneeze escapes him.

He catches the end of Pete’s sentence when he puts the device back to his ear. “…worry,” he assures. “I’ll let everybody know, and we’ll continue shooting on Monday, how does that sound? You just stay home and rest up, okay? Have you talked to Trixie?”

“Not since last night.”

“Okay, I’ll call her. Keep me posted. Hope you feel better.”

He pronounces some grunts of agreement before disconnecting the call.

He’d known something was wrong since the night before. He’d been out late, having ice cream with Amy. The air had been cold, but it felt good against his constantly overheated skin. They’d walked back to his apartment without rushing, enjoying the cool California weather.

As soon as his head hit the pillow later that night, he found himself regretting that little stroll. His nose was stuffy and he had trouble swallowing. He’d sent his complaints to Trixie through text messages, but had also stated how his body was always on his side and he hadn’t gotten a cold in ages. The itchiness in his throat had kept him awake, but Trixie, who wasn’t suffering the symptoms, had fallen asleep mid-conversation.

He grabs his phone, with the sole intention of letting Trixie know about the development of his state. The string of blue bubbles is overwhelming. A countdown of how many hours of sleep he would’ve gotten, if he fell asleep right then, had been sent every hour.

He closes the conversation and throws the phone on the empty space next to him.

Maybe if he showers, he will get to feel better. Cleanse his body of all toxins, or whatever. Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Until he throws the covers away, that is. The temperature of the room is colder than he had expected, or maybe he’s running a fever, because the chilled air makes his skin tingle as soon as it touches it. With a deep sigh he turns around, grabs the covers and turns himself into a blanket burrito again. It’s time to take a nap, put his body into low power mode and let it fight whatever it is that’s making him sick.

He sleeps for an hour, or three, or six, he doesn’t know; but he’s suddenly awakened by the doorbell sounding incesibly.

“Jesus. Go away!” He screams into his pillow, sinking deeper into the mattress. The person doesn’t do as they are told, and the bell is heard again. “This better be a major fucking emergency.”

This time he doesn’t make the same mistake as before. He grabs the blanket at the top of the pile and wraps it around his shoulders. Still mumbling curse words is that he reaches the door. He opens it without asking who is on the other side, but is ready to give them a piece of his mind for waking him up. The concerned features disarm him on the spot.

“Oh, my God, Katya. Are you okay? You look horrible!”

“Well, good morning to you too, you fucking bitch,” he pretends to be offended as much as he can, but his body is still not responding properly.

Trixie makes his own way past Katya, carrying several plastic bags in each hand. “Good morning? Girl, it’s almost four in the afternoon. I’ve been calling and texting you. When the messages didn’t show delivered I got worried, then the calls were not connecting. I decided to come see you.”

Katya looks around, as if the device would magically appear somewhere around the living room. “I don’t know where my phone is. It’s probably dead somewhere.”

After dropping everything on the coffee table, Trixie walks back to Katya, who hasn’t moved from his spot next to the door. “I brought you some food. Pete told me you were not feeling well, but this seems, like, super serious.” He grabs Katya by the hands and basically drags him to sit on the couch. “How are you feeling?”

“Well, you-you…” A sneeze interrupts his speech. Trixie reaches inside a bag and takes out a box of tissues before a second sneeze escapes Katya. “Thank you. Now, look away, this is not going to be pretty.”

Trixie laughs but does nothing to divert his eyes as Katya blows his nose. He even offers his hand for Katya to place the used tissue. Katya simply makes a face of disgust and puts it on the table in front of them.

“So, is it like a cold,” Trixie inquires. “Or what is it that you are feeling?”

“You know, it’s so weird. Whenever I move, it feels as if part of my body moved and then it took a second for, like, my other half to catch up. I don’t know how to explain it.”

He doesn’t have to, before he even finishes his sentence, Trixie is already nodding. “Those body aches are signs of a fever. Hold on.” Once again, Trixie starts going through the bags in front of him. “I didn’t know what you had so I stopped by the pharmacy and bought a bunch of shit. I know the lady sold me a thermometer.”

“Is it rectal, mother?” Katya asks in a watered down version of Maureen’s voice.

“Oh, my God,” Trixie says between giggles, finally finding the thin tube. “Glad to know the cold hasn’t affected your sluttiness. Now open.”

Katya does as he’s told, parting his lips as Trixie puts the instrument under his tongue.

“According to this thing, we need to wait a minute and a half,” Trixie informs him as he puts the instructions aside. “Okay, now, hear me out.” He starts speaking more to himself, to fill the silence around them, as he takes his purchases out of the bags. “I went to the drug store to get you, like, cough drops or something for the flu, you know, just in case. When I was there I remembered what happened to my uncle Steve, you remember him, right?”

With the glass tube still in his mouth, Katya shakes his head.

“Yeah, you do. He went to rehab. I’ve talked about him several times. Anyways, when he came out of rehab he had this thing for, like, NyQuil and stuff. He couldn’t even see cough syrup ‘cause it was, I don’t know, triggering, I guess.”

Katya can’t help but smile. The way Trixie speaks with his hands, as much as he does with his mouth, will always be fascinating. He mumbles something unintelligible around the thermometer, then tries to muffle a laugh.

“Shut up! It’s not gonna work if you are talking!” Trixie warns, waving a finger in front of him. “As I was saying. I called Valentina. She’s always bragging about how Mexicans are the best at home remedies, and she gave me some useful tips. That’s why I brought you chicken broth, ‘cause apparently soup only works in movies. She told me to get a shit ton of Vicks VapoRub, and that you should put it on your chest and the sole of your feet. Now, she mentioned something about wrapping your feet with newspaper, but I guess a pair of socks…”

The rest of his rambling gets immediately lost to Katya’s ears. Maybe it’s the fever, or maybe it’s the lack of sleep, but Katya has never felt more loved or taken care of in his life. His eyes water as they analyze the intensity with which Trixie is speaking. He is so worried. He’s dropped everything to be there for Katya; went out of his way to not only buy him drugs for his sickness, he took in consideration Katya’s sobriarity.

Almost without thinking about it, Katya leans forward and drops his head on Trixie’s shoulder. That’s enough to stop the rambling. Trixie’s hand goes up and caresses Katya’s unshaven cheek. The room is completely silent, their breathing synchronizes after a few seconds and soon that’s the only sound filling the air around them. It’s comfortable, it feels like home.

Suddenly, Katya doesn’t feel so sick anymore, his body doesn’t ache as much, his lungs are pulling oxygen in again.

“Let me take a look at that,” Trixie says quietly, not really wanting to interrupt the moment but needing to check the thermometer. He removes it from Katya’s mouth, and puts it up against the light, that’s when he realizes. “I don’t know how to read this thing! Don’t they sell like electronic ones? Shouldn’t this thing say something like: yes, you are hot, or no, you ain’t dying, bitch, you ain’t that special?”

Katya takes the thermometer in his hands, doing his best to breathe as he laughs and coughs at the same time. “It’s ninety… ninety-nine and a half, maybe? That’s not bad. Fever, I believe, starts at, like, a hundred. Anything higher than that is, like, really dying.”

He says it as a joke, as a way to light up the mood, but Trixie’s face turns somber. “Ninety-nine and a half is basically a hundred. So you do have a fever, don’t you dare die on me, you idiot.”

“I’m fine. I do feel like taking a shower, though. That can bring down my temperature, plus, I’ve been sweating a lot.”

Trixie nods his head. “Okay, you go do that, I will heat up the food. You think you can eat?”

Already standing up, Katya agrees. “Yeah. Warm soup would feel nice down my throat. I have never eaten knives before… unfortunately… but it feels like that’s the only thing I’ve been eating.”

“You know what else could feel nice down your throat?” Trixie tries to joke, but laughter makes it hard for him to even finish the sentence.

Katya stops cold on his tracks, turns around and points a finger at him. “Hey, if you are not planning on putting your huge ding-dong in my mouth, don’t you joke about that.”

Lifting his hands in surrender, Trixie walks away, occupying himself in the task of heating up the food for his sick friend.

The shower is quick, Katya doesn’t feel like standing under the spray of freezing water, or at least that’s how it feels against his hot skin. The drops leave a tingling feeling as they travel down his body, hopefully taking germs and viruses away with it. When he enters his bedroom, it feels as if his heart has dropped to his feet as well. The lights are off, all but the lamp on the bedside table. Trixie walks in with a tray in hand. There’s a bowl that probably has the broth in it, a glass filled with juice, another one with water, and some containers that surely hold medicine in them to make him feel better.

“Get in the bed,” Trixie commands, pushing his chin towards the unmade covers.

Katya doesn’t even question it, he unties the wet towel and throws it on a chair. The sheets feel cool as he places them around his lower half. Just when he’s feeling himself relax, he’s startled by Trixie’s hand on his chest.

“Don’t you ever touch me,” Katya says more out of reflex, doing absolutely nothing to remove Trixie’s fingers from his skin.

With a small eye roll, Trixie continues on his task. “Shut up, you big baby. I need to put this VapoRub on your chest to, I don’t know, open up your lungs or something like that.”

That’s when he sees it. Trixie sees the corners of Katya’s mouth slowly curling into a smile he knows very well. It is a very telling smile. Katya knows his thoughts are not socially accepted, yet he will proudly express them. As soon as the blindingly white teeth are in full display, Trixie lets out a sigh as he dramatically drops his shoulders.

“What-what now?”

With lifted eyebrows, Katya uses his eyes to make Trixie look down, towards his bottom half. The sheets are slightly lifted and Katya laughs as soon as the ‘oh, wow’ is pronounced, indicating Trixie understands what’s going on.

“Bitch, I’m literally putting medicine on your chest. This can’t possibly be turning you on.”

“No, no, no,” Katya quickly corrects him. “Getting a boner is not an equivalent of getting turned on. It’s just a physical reaction to human touch.”

Trixie sits on the edge of the bed, ignoring the response of Katya’s body, and carries on with the task. “When were you last touched by a human?” He asks with a twist of his lips, trying to make it sound sarcastic, and expecting Katya to bring up a weird story of how he was last touched by a demon or something of the short.

None of that happens.

Katya looks away, almost ashamed. Almost. Shame is not part of his vocabulary. Yet, there is no other word that could describe the somber air taking over his features. There is a sigh before he looks back at Trixie. Something immediately changes. His eyes are a shade darker than usual, they look straight into Trixie’s soul, and he can’t take it. He has to look down, to the container of medicine still in his hands.

“Hey,” Katya speaks, softly, almost in a whisper. Trixie nods, acknowledging he’s heard him, but still not able to look up. “Thank you,” Katya finishes. The tone of his voice is deep, laced with something that Trixie doesn’t dare to figure out.

He shrugs a shoulder. “No problem,” Trixie assures Katya, toying with the blue jar. He doesn’t elaborate, he wants to make the weird cloud above them go away. He presses two fingers into the scented gel before running it against Katya’s skin.

Trixie tries to concentrate on applying the medicine into Katya’s chest evenly. His hand travels from one pec to the other slowly. His fingers make sure to lightly touch one of the bugs, permanently drawn on Katya’s shoulder, before making his way to the one. He does his best to ignore the deep stare of his friend burning the top of his head, he doesn’t pay attention to the uneven raising and falling of the chest he’s touching. He really wants to, he is really trying. It’s useless.

Soon, he finds himself licking his lips, he feels the throbbing in his pants, he loses control of his hand. Without even thinking about it, he takes more medication but his fingers land on Katya’s stomach this time. His fingertips trace the toned abs, his nails scratching slightly. He goes lower and lower until his hand disappears inside the covers.

It burns. It really burns. When the ointment reaches the delicate skin, Katya closes his eyes. He wants to open them, he wants to see Trixie’s hand going up and down on him. He wants to have a good look at Trixie’s face as he pumps him; but he’s too weak. His mind is fogged with fever and lust. He is struggling to pull air in when his lungs are still not fully working. All he knows is that Trixie’s soft touch is taking care of the throbbing of his lower half, just as he has been taking care of his sickness for the last hour or so.

He has to do something, as a thank you. He blindly pats down the mattress, finds Trixie’s legs, and the bulge between them right after. Slowly, he opens his eyes, just to find Trixie’s stare.

“Brian,” Trixie whispers, no other word is pronounced but all motion stops. “I’m sorry,” he says, releasing him with a heavy exhale. “I shouldn’t have done that. You are sick, you are not feeling well.”

“So what?” Katya sounds almost angry. “It’s not like we are kissing. Surely a cold is not dick-to-hand contagious.”

Trixie stands up, maybe some physical distance could work in their favor. “That’s not what I meant, bitch. I just… I don’t know. It feels like I’m taking advantage of you.”

Katya sits up, making sure the covers don’t fall and add awkwardness by revealing his erection. “Hey, listen. Nobody is taking advantage of anybody. If anything, I’m taking advantage of your good heart to fuck you. You have been such an amazing friend and, honestly, the only way I know how to communicate is sexually. I kinda sensed this was where things were going. I’m sorry. I know you have made it perfectly clear, right from the start, that it couldn’t happen. I need to respect that.”

Folding his arms across his chest, Trixie taps his foot softly against the floor. “What if…” he trails off, his eyes avoiding Katya again. “What if I want something to happen?”

“You do?” Katya doesn’t do anything to hide the excitement in his voice.

Trixie nods. “I do. But not like this, though.”

“Oh, no! God! Not like this,” Katya agrees.

A small smile creeps into Trixie’s lips, before he goes around the bed and climbs next to Katya. “Why don’t we wait until you feel better and revisit the subject?”

Katya lays back down and faces him with a giant grin on his face. “I feel better already.”

[varricmancer]

Can you write something where Varric finds out a female dwarven servant has a crush on him??

Okay, so this one isn’t quite drabble-sized! I began writing and my fingers just started flying and couldn’t stop. I blame the fact that this one was a Varric fic. I just can’t help writing about him getting the loving he deserves. Also, I’m sorry if this wasn’t quite what you had in mind, but Rosie’s been a character in my head for a while and I was pleased to have a chance to do something with her. 

Varric Tethras x OC || Fluff || 1,673 WC

It had taken him a while to realize that something was different. During his tenure as Viscount Tethras he’d of course gotten used to servants being around. He asked for ale and someone rushed to get it. He got blood on one of his favorite jackets and it was gone a day later. 

However, there was someone here paying him special attention. He didn’t really mind much, as no one was standing around while he bathed or trying to press him into a suit with as much give as steel. That was the whole reason he’d forgone the use of the valet they’d tried to give him. No, this person was watching for the little things. 

He always had plenty of his favorite foods around, even the hot cocoa The Iron Bull had gotten him hooked on. That in itself wasn’t odd with servants around, but the fact that most of the servants were ordered to stay until he put away his work and started eating was. Books would appear on his desk with a little note saying they thought he’d like it, usually a mere day after he’d finished the last one. Without ever asking, he somehow always had tea when he was ready for bed, a mug of ice-cold ale when the weather was unbearably hot, and a glass full of liquor when he was stressed. The most telling thing was the few times he’d been feeling sad, lonely, and overworked all of his meetings would suddenly be canceled and one of his friends summoned to the mansion. 

He had a feeling it was the new housekeeper, as most of the changes hadn’t happened until she took over. Before, the servants had been happily making him keep the same schedule and habits as the previous Viscount. He could barely even remember the day he’d hired her, as he’d been ass-deep in the reports and demands that were now the bane of his existence. He was fairly certain all he’d done was grunt, wave, and sign his name on the paper. It wasn’t until a month later that he realized he was steadily growing less overwhelmed and he owed someone a great debt. 

Once he realized that, he began to notice her all around the manor. She was dwarven - surface dwarf most likely, as she didn’t hold herself like a noble or have the grim air of casteless. It was perhaps a bit off to have a dwarven servant actually in charge of all the others, but hey, he was the damned Viscount of all Kirkwall, so why not? The servants seemed to accept her authority easily enough, he noticed, with her walking around like she was the one that owned the place. She was quick to berate someone for slacking off, but just as easily put everything on hold if someone was hurt or needed help. 

Varric felt like a creep once he realized how much he’d actually been paying attention to her without her knowledge. Why would he find it so fascinating to watch her marching through his halls with her curls bouncing along behind her? To see her bring cookies to his office with flour smeared on her cheek? Or to watch her laughing and playing with the other servant’s children in the garden?

Honestly, he had a pretty good idea what his issue was, but he was such a good liar he could even convince himself that the feelings slowly bubbling to the surface were nothing important.

He was particularly grateful for her influence around the manor today, as he already had enough to worry about. It was the first “anniversary” without any word or quick visit from Bianca. He finally has accepted that whatever crazy relationship they had was now over. He was free, and it was both saddening and a little exhilarating. It was weird to think of the possibility of moving on without the shadow of her tainting it. It was also really insane that when he considered moving on he thought of a specific face. 

He sighed wearily as he trudged up the neverending steps to his suite. It was days like this, when he was bone-tired and emotionally exhausted, that he missed his old rooms at The Hanged Man the most. But ultimately it was worth it, since he knew his firecracker of a housekeeper would have the bed turned down, the fire blazing, and a glass of something warm waiting for him. 

As he reached the last step, he heard the rumble of voices coming from the direction of his room. His hand instinctively reached back to touch his bow, breathing a sigh of relief when he heard the familiar giggle of Mistress Housekeeper herself. He grinned and leaned against the wall near the door, listening in. 

“All I’m saying is that you should think about it, Rosie!” one of the elven servants said, the rustle of fabric giving away that they were probably changing his sheets. 

“Why, because we are both dwarves?” Rosie laughed, “That’s a horrible reason.”

“No, because you have a huge thing for him. You pine. There are sighs and sweet little smiles and blushing. I see it!” 

Rosie is stuttering enough that Varric thinks the elf might have hit a sore point. He smirks as his chest suddenly feels lighter. So she might feel the same way, huh? 

“It’s…not like that. He’s the damned Viscount and a ton of other titles combined. I’m not blind - obviously, he’s handsome.  And I admire how he stepped up to care for the city. And he treats everyone around him thoughtfully. He tells the kids wonderful stories in the garden. And when he laughs it’s so warm. And his smile is - oh Maker I’m in love with Varric Tethras.” 

Her stunned tone sent her companion in a peal of laughter, Varric himself so amused he almost joined her. He suddenly felt fifteen years younger. 

He silently stalked back towards the stairs to act like he’d just walked up them, making a big show of stomping his feet and yawning loudly as he got closer towards the door. 

Rosie and the elven servant - he believed her name was Seraya - were just finishing up putting his bed back together. The fire was indeed already warming the room and a steaming cup of tea was waiting for him on a little table. Rosie could barely maintain eye contact with him and her cheeks were still blushing brightly. 

She shooed Seraya away and gestured towards the tea. 

“Everything is ready for you. I had heard you had a tiring day, so I only prepared the tea, but if you’re still hungry I can fetch something quickly.” 

He shook his head, staring at her as he grabbed the cup and chugged it down in a few seconds. 

“Too tired to eat,” he grunts, setting down the cup and dropping onto the edge of the massive bed. 

Rosie hums sympathetically and pats him on the shoulder. 

“Sleep well, then, sir.” 

Varric’s hand takes on a mind of its own and reaches up to swiftly grab hers before she can take it away. He threads their fingers together, staring at them as she gasps in surprise. 

“Rosie…I…uh…me too.” 

Her shocked expression morphs as he watches her internal battle. Shock, confusion, embarrassment, until finally…

Rosie snorts and narrows her eyes, a slight grin lighting her face. 

“I should have known not to try having conversations with a sneaky dwarf around, no matter how high he’s risen.” 

“Sorry,” he shrugs, smirking up at her. “Habit.” 

“Uh-huh,” she murmurs, her blush belying how confident she’s trying to act. “So…you heard that. And…you too?” 

“Yeah,” he answers, voice low with promise - and not a little exhaustion. He tries to hide his yawn because this is a very important discussion. 

“You’re not still seeing that woman?” 

“Nope,” he responds with a tired grin, a little surprised that she knew about Bianca. But he guessed he’d never really made it that much of a secret. 

“You’re rather short on words today, I see,” she chuckles, letting him pull her closer and wrap his arms around her waist. He tucked his head into her stomach, breathing in her scent freely for the first time. 

“Too tired to make the words go,” he mumbled against her dress as she tugged his hair free from the tie. 

“Mmmm, then go to sleep. We can talk more about this tomorrow.” 

“Sleep with me,” he blurted. 

“What?”

He glanced up, grinning at her sheepishly as she quirks an eyebrow. 

“I mean just sleep. Lay down with me. Please?” Varric Tethras was begging? Shit, he was more tired than he thought. 

He realized it was worth it though when it seemed like she softened before his eyes, lips turned up in a fond grin. 

“Yeah, okay.” 

He kicked off his boots and threw his jacket onto the floor as she laid her shoes neatly nearby and took off her apron. Varric watched as she tugged a couple of plain combs out of her hair, letting the curls tumble freely down her back. He wanted to just sit there and watch her like some Darktown creep, but his eyes were watering and burning with exhaustion. 

He slumped into the covers, sighing as his body was finally happy with him enough to stop hurting so much. His eyes barely opened as she slid in next to him, just as clothed. Her stuttered breathing gave away how nervous she was, but she wrapped herself around his back anyhow. 

“G’night, Rosie. Remind me to kiss you in the morning.” 

Her muffled laughter vibrated against his back, earning a sleepy grin. 

“Alright, now sleep.”

And for the first time in ages, Varric Tethras fell into the black void that was a dwarves lot excited and hopeful for the future.