#In a room that's colder than ice but feels like a furnace to me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

allyouneedisbuck · 3 years

Text

how she loves (like sleep to the freezing)

summary -> “Sometimes Bucky will catch glimpses of who he used to be in the mirror. They’re like silent movies that play as he stares at his reflection. A boy with bright eyes and even brighter smiles that can only see the good in the world. He’s struck with how warm he used to be when these memories play. Then he blinks and they’re gone, all that’s left is a cold man staring back at him whose eyes appear empty and smiles have almost disappeared.”

or; bucky has been cold for a long time and you’re unbelievably warm.

warnings -> not beta’d, nicknames (sunshine/blossom), a lot of allusions to coldness, bucky is lonely & reader is kind. implied that the avengers live in a building together

words -> 2.0k

notes -> tried out a different writing style with this one, a bit of bucky’s thoughts instead of the reader. i hope you enjoy 🥺 title from cherry wine by hozier. can u tell i love him

— ➶ —

Bucky has felt cold for a long time. He feels like the dead of winter.

A kind of cold that just settles. One that doesn’t bite against your skin harshly but instead, it pricks and prods constantly reminding you of an absence of warmth.

He’s felt cold for so long that a semblance of warmth is unknown to him.

The way you radiate warmth is a curiosity and fact in the oddest ways. It’s constant in a way that Bucky can’t comprehend, but always shown through sunshine filled smiles and gentle eyes.

“Hi, Bucky.” You murmur sweetly as you make your way through the gym. It’s empty, you and Bucky the only two occupants, and Bucky feels heat rise to his cheeks.

He nods in response before turning back to the punching bag.

Bucky has know cold for so long he doesn’t know to react to warmth. He sticks to awkward smiles and short nods so you know he’s not ignoring you.

Maybe one day he would feel thawed enough to force the words he so desperately wants to say in return out.

➶

Sometimes Bucky will catch glimpses of who he used to be in the mirror. They’re like silent movies that play as he stares at his reflection. A boy with bright eyes and brighter smiles that can only see the good in the world. He’s struck with how warm he used to be when these memories play. Then he blinks and they’re gone, all that’s left is a cold man staring back at him whose eyes appear empty and smiles have almost disappeared.

He thinks he would have had a chance with you back then. Imagines your lips painted red and a navy blue skirt while he wears his uniform with pride. Bucky would have taken you dancing and the two of you would have been warmer than the sun together.

Maybe that’s what hurts the most about the memories. Now that Bucky has them back he can see the missing pieces that Steve tries to pretend he doesn’t miss. Bucky can see parts of who he used to be in the memories, parts that he’s unsure he’ll ever get back.

He tries though. In the ways he knows how. He cuts his hair and Steve’s excited smile is worth how lost Bucky feels with when he goes to tug nervously at the locks only to find they’re no longer there.

He trains with Sam. It’s obvious Sam feels better when he can help and Bucky doesn’t want to be a burden on Steve’s found family, so he lets Sam show him moves and technology that can help in fights Bucky isn’t sure he wants to be a part of.

Sometimes though, when the memories are too much and he feels frozen, Bucky needs a break.

You seem to appear at these times. Almost like you know Bucky’s grown colder and needs something to ground him to earth.

“You okay, Buck?” You ask gently tone like honey as you move around the kitchen. He nods slowly as his eyes fall to the table in front of him.

You don’t realize it, but the honey drips down Bucky’s fingertips and brings feeling back to his frozen limbs. “I’m okay, sunshine.”

Your returning grin is bright and contagious as you settle in beside Bucky at the kitchen’s island. You’re content to sit in silence and Bucky is content to bask in your glow.

Maybe one day you would know. Maybe you wouldn’t. Bucky was starting to worry less about what ifs.

➶

Steve runs like a furnace and a jealousy as green as ivy consumes Bucky when they’re in each other’s space.

It’s wrong to be jealous of Steve when for so long Steve had been the one who froze and shivered without complaint.

But when Bucky feels the heat of Steve hit him it makes him feel sick. Steve doesn’t have the same sweet as honey tone of voice or the same warmth you do. Steve’s heat doesn’t thaw Bucky out it only reminds him of the past that makes him feel colder.

“Are you okay, Bucky?” Steve’s hand slaps Bucky’s shoulder and burns. Bucky winces, it’s not the burn of a fire but the burn you feel when your hand touches snow for a second too long and his whole body recoils.

The hurt in Steve’s eyes is enough to make guilt claw its way up Bucky’s throat, but the words are frozen on his tongue. How can he explain this? How can Bucky explain that he feels like he’s never really left that ice Hydra forced him into?

“You know,” Bucky coughs awkwardly, “my shoulder. They fucked it up.” Steve’s shoulders sag with relief and his hand rests on Bucky’s right shoulder this time.

It still burns. Bucky has learned to tense his jaw and bear it.

Steve’s so happy to have, really have, Bucky back that there are things he lets slip through the cracks. Expressions he would have noticed in the forties and ticks Bucky still has.

Your hand replaces Steve’s as you step in between the two, like you know Bucky’s shoulder is hypothermic and your touch is all that can save it from turning black and blue.

“You’re okay.” You whisper without looking at him. Steve grins at Bucky, one that says he thinks there’s more to your appearance than you just wanting to help Bucky. “What’s wrong?”

Bucky shrugs.

There are no words to explain that your touch is like his saving grace.

➶

“Bucky,” your fingers card through his hair in an attempt to wake him up, “you awake?” He’s not used to the short hair yet, but you seem to like how easily your fingers glide through it.

Yes. Bucky doesn’t open his eyes. He just makes sure to keep his breathing even as he feels a fingertip trail over his cheek.

Your touch never burns. It’s a relief. When your hand rests on her shoulder or your knuckles brush over his cheekbone, Bucky feels warm. The only way he could ever describe it to somebody who asked was the first day of Spring. The first real day of spring, when all the snow of winter has melted and flowers are peeking through the dirt again.

“I know you’re awake because you’ve got a stupid smile on your face,” you chastise with no real anger in your tone. Bucky cracks an eye open and finds you looking down at him with a grin. “What’s got you smiling like that?”

You. It’s always you. “Dreaming of something beautiful.” Bucky says softly. Your hand rests against his cheek and he feels both his cheeks heat up with a blush. He briefly wonders if you can feel the heat against the palm of your hand.

“Must have been a good dream,” you murmur, “if it’s got you smiling like that.”

You drop your hand and despite to absence of your touch, Bucky still feels warm. There’s no other way to describe it, but Bucky thinks putting it simply is best. “Yeah,” Bucky says softly as his eyes trail over you, “it was.”

“A smile is a good look on you, Barnes.” You say earnestly, a bright smile of your own gracing your face.

As Bucky watches you walk away, he feels lighter too, like something is changing in him.

➶

Bucky’s learning how to feel warm again. Smiles and laughter that makes Steve’s eyes crinkle when he hears and your eyes widen in amusement.

He never wanted to feel cold, but he’ll admit he wallowed in the feeling. He let it settle over him without a fight, lucky to have someone as warm as you in his presence. Someone whose warmth melted his ice without even really trying,

“You’ve been happier lately,” you whisper. There’s a hesitance in your tone, like you’re afraid the words may upset Bucky.

Bucky nods. His head is resting against the back of the couch as he looks at you, your cheek resting against the palm of your hand as you look down at him curiously. “I’ve felt warm.” Bucky admits.

“Warm?” Your brows furrow in confusion. Bucky’s hand is resting on the cushion between you two. He inches in closer to your knee as the two of you watch one another.

Bucky supposes now is as good a time as any to tell you. “I’ve felt cold. For a long, long time. I can’t really explain it, but I know I’m finally starting to feel warm again.”

“Warm again,” you mutter as your hand meets his halfway, “that sounds lovely.” Your fingers follow a path over his palm before Bucky captures them in his.

He can feel himself blush, he seems to do it a lot around you. “You make me feel warm again,” there’s nobody else in the room, but Bucky keeps his voice at a whisper, “like spring.”

“Spring,” you repeat in a low tone, “you make me feel like Spring too, Bucky.” And you smile, one as bright as the sun, and Bucky is happy to soak in it.

➶

He’s learning that in warmth there is comfort. Bucky’s learned a lot, actually, and he’s starting to realize while he may never feel like the bright light he was in the forties, he can grow into something just as warm. Now there are more days than not where his feet no longer feel stuck to the ground and he can feel his eyes light up.

He wants to share it with you and he’s getting comfortable enough to do so. He wants you to see his spring and watch him grow and if your warmth is included in that he wants it to be because it’s what you want, not because you feel obligated to.

Not that you’d ever implied you did. Bucky just worries.

“Sunshine,” Bucky grins as you come to a stop in front of him, “you look beautiful.” You’re wearing a lovely, emerald green gown that flows to your feet.

“Thanks, blossom.” Your eyes shine with mirth as you say it and a Bucky is sure his cheeks have turned a bright shade of red in response. “I have a gift for you.”

Bucky’s eyes widen as you hand over a thin box. “What is it?” He asks automatically as he begins to pull the tape holding the lid closed off.

“Open it!” You urge. Bucky pulls the lid off and his eyes widen when he sees the emerald green tie. The one he had on now was a plain black, meant to compliment you and not clash with your dress color.

Your eyes are watching him curiously, waiting for a response, but Bucky can’t get any words out. There are butterflies in his stomach that make it hard to breathe. “Do you… Is it okay?” You ask quietly after a moment.

“Yeah. Yes!” Bucky looks at you with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. “I love it,” he starts quietly, “will you help me put it on?”

Your eyes widen this time, but you nod and Bucky moves to pull his black tie off quickly. You don’t ask why he needs your help with this tie and not the black one and Bucky appreciates it as you slide the green around his neck.

You take a step closer and Bucky’s breath hitches as you being to slowly knot the tie around his neck. He had grown used to you and your warmth in his space, but this felt different. The air between you two felt charged. Bucky’s eyes trail over your face admiringly as you focused on the task in front of you.

“Sunshine,” Bucky starts in a whisper. Your eyes snap to his, your hands still resting on his chest. “I-“

“I know,” you murmur. Your palms flatten against his chest as you tilt your head up towards him. Bucky doesn’t have the chance to say anything else because you press a soft kiss against his lips.

It’s a blink and you miss it type kiss. By the time Bucky registers that you’re kissing him, you’ve pulled away to look at him with gleeful eyes.

“We promised Steve we wouldn’t be late,” You take an agonizingly slow step away, “and I keep promises.”

Bucky slips his hand into yours, intertwining your fingers together, and allows you to pull him down the hallway.

It’s the dead of winter, but Bucky feels like summer.

— ➶ —

notes -> not too sure how i feel about this… definitely something different. i feel like my writing has been subpar lately…. idk! have a great night 💗 or day!

if you enjoyed reblogs are greatly appreciated 🥺

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #james bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #james bucky barnes

651 notes · View notes

muertawrites · 3 years

Text

Fireside (Zuko x Reader)

Word Count: 1,775

Author’s Note: I am so deeply sorry this took so long to post. I don’t know what happened but after Thanksgiving the creative part of my brain completely shut down and all I could do was lay in bed and play video games. But it’s back now so 🎉🎉🎉 happy new year to all of us!

I got this request a WHILE ago and had written something else for it but after reconsidering, I totally hated it, so this is the rewrite for some cozy, wintery goodness. I also love this idea because I’m constantly cold - my feet and hands are always freezing and even in summer I’ll wear sweaters and hoodies because aircon can get pretty chilly when you have the body temp of your average vampire.

Now for a little update: in the new year, I’ll be focusing more on original works than fanfiction. I’m still going to finish Two Halves, and I’ll still write fanfiction (because it’s still super fun) but I have so many ideas for original works that are taking over my brain that it seems only fitting to shift that direction. If you’re on my subscriber list and would like to only receive alerts for fanfic, let me know and I’ll add you to a separate list.

I hope you’re all having a wonderful holiday, taking time to relax and spend time with loved ones, and generally just glad to have survived this shithole of a year. Here’s hoping that 2021 goes better - 2020 set the bar pretty low so it shouldn’t be too hard. 🥂

Snow was a rare occurrence in the Fire Nation. Summers typically scorched, followed by peaceful autumns and mild winters; a little rainfall was all one typically expected during the colder months in the Imperial City.

This year, however, was much different. The mountains that bordered the villages and towns throughout the island were white capped under gray skies; streets were slickened by thick layers of ice that settled between cobblestones and creased the panes of windows; bracing breezes swept through landscapes unaccustomed to such unforgiving weather, carrying flurries of snow that bit at cheeks and cloaked the world in a dull ivory veil. Winter came to the Fire Nation seeking a cruel, unwarranted vengeance.

You woke in the middle of the night to find the fire beside your bed had died, leaving your borrowed room in a state of bitter, slicing cold. It wasn't the first time the Firelord’s palace had left you uncomfortably chilled since your arrival for his New Year’s celebrations, as the building was never meant to withstand this type of climate - sweeping ceilings, open breezeways, and tall windows with thin shutters ensured that the cold had its way. Being from the Northern Earth Kingdom, used to sturdy wooden lodges with massive fire pits that could burn an entire tree trunk with one lighting, this strange change of the typical season made you ache for home.

Knowing there were no matches beside the hearth (given the sheer amount of fire benders that resided in the palace), you gathered up your courage and begrudgingly rolled from your mattress, taking the blankets with and wrapping them tightly around yourself. The walls around you creaked, shifting under the push of moaning winds, as you slipped into the hallway in search of your host.

You were thankful that Zuko decided to keep his personal wing of the palace confined to a space that was mostly enclosed; the only breezeways in this part of the sprawling estate surrounded its courtyards and gardens, and were blocked by sets of heavy wood doors that shielded the inner parts of the building from being overcome by the elements. As you walked, traipsing through the corridor under your mound of blankets like some sort of shadowy, death-bringing phantom, you passed one of the windows that overlooked the gardens, and found it frosted under heavy white tufts of snow; puffy, clumped flakes whirled down from the sky, falling haphazardly as they escaped the grip of the whipping wind. Even in the relative warmth of the palace, your body shivered thinking of how frigid the air outside must be.

Because of the abnormal cold, Zuko moved his mattress out of his bedroom and into his sitting room, where a large, decorative fireplace stood nestled into the far wall. You approached his sleeping form with gentle, quiet steps, being careful not to startle him; you lay a hand on his shoulder and he jolted awake, drawing a sharp breath in as he twisted to face you, blinking blearily to make out your features in the dark.

“What are you doing?” he muttered.

“I'm cold,” you whispered in response. “My fire went out.”

Zuko sighed, fixing you with an irked, exhausted expression.

“Seriously?” he groaned. “This is the third time this week.”

“It's not my fault nobody has any friggin matches in this place,” you quipped. “And besides, why bring a servant all the way up here when I have one of the world’s greatest fire benders down the hall?”

Zuko huffed, then rolled back over in an attempt to shove you off.

“There should be more blankets in your closet,” he grumbled.

“I'm wearing all of them,” you retorted.

You stood above him, waiting, but got no response. Shivering, and with an exasperated sigh, you pulled back the blankets around him, shuffling between them and nestling into his back; he snapped his head around once more, eyeing you suspiciously.

“... Isn’t this a little uncomfortable?” he wondered.

“Not really,” you replied. “We used to do this all the time when we were teenagers.”

“We haven't done this since we were teenagers.”

You hummed, recalling your time together during the war. Even on the hottest days, your body was cold, your fingers always reasonably corpselike to anyone who happened to touch them - Zuko was one of those unfortunate people, and the lack of circulation in your limbs came as quite a worry to him. Throughout the day, he would take one of your hands in his, heating his palm until your skin took on a more lively temperature. When he noticed how much you layered at night when the air became cooler, he started sleeping nearer to you, eventually curling up around you to keep you warm. After the war, when he got into the habit of visiting you around the winter holidays, you still found yourself seeking him for warmth, tucking your hands into the sleeves of his robes or curling his palm around your icy fingers, finding sanctuary in the way he heated his skin to appease you. While it was true you hadn't slept together since you were younger, you hadn't ever needed to - desperate times called for desperate measures.

“I should have remembered that you get so grumpy when you're tired,” you teased him, rubbing your feet against his; he hissed, but didn't pull away.

“You're freezing,” he commented. “I should have remembered you're dead on the inside.”

You giggled, sighing happily as the familiar heat of his skin warming like a furnace chased the chill from your toes. You slid your feet up along his ankles, causing him to shiver; his body tensed for a moment, then eased into your touch, quickly finding comfort in its familiarity.

“Aang used to assume we were a couple because of this,” Zuko mumbled. “He still does.”

“You're just a good friend,” you replied. You nuzzled your face into the broad, solid expanse of his back, breathing in his scent of scorched wood and sea salt. He felt like home. “Good friends don't let their friends freeze to death.”

Zuko chuckled, taking hold of your hands that lay on his waist and cupping them within his own; he held your knuckles up to his mouth and huffed warm, smokey air onto them, heating them until they no longer felt cold. He tucked them beneath the fabric of his tunic, keeping them tepid between the fabric of his undershirt.

“Uncle says the same thing,” he mused. “He says we treat each other like lovers, whether we realize it or not.”

“My neighbors have asked me what my husband does that takes him away for so long out of the year...” you commented, eliciting another breathy laugh from your companion. “But I think I'd know if you were in love with me.”

Zuko rolled over, turning to face you; his arm latched at your waist, his chest almost pressed to you and your noses grazing each other in the small space of his mattress. You blushed, the color blending with the soft, balmy glow of the low hearth behind him.

“What makes you think I'm not in love with you?” he wondered.

You paused, watching the flames flicker over the angular features of his face. Though he was silhouetted, and so close he seemed to envelop all of you, you could make out a tender gleam in his eye; could feel the flutter in his chest as he split it open, tentatively revealing his heart to you.

“... I'd like to think you would have mentioned it,” you answered after a moment, “but I know you better than that.”

Zuko grinned; you watched the curve of his cheek as it swelled with the action.

“I might have mentioned it,” he murmured, his voice lilting with a gentle mirth. “Just not to you.”

“Of course not,” you teased. You mirrored his smile, easing into him as his foot began to stroke against your ankle once more. “Either way, I know you don't love me.”

“And why is that?” Zuko whispered.

“Well… you never write to me about anything exciting,” you replied. “You always seem so content to write to me about your thoughts, or what plays you've seen recently, or your conversations with Iroh. You never tell me about the impressive, world-altering Firelord stuff or your incredible exploits as a warrior.”

Zuko smirked, raising a hand to brush some hair away from your face. His fingers were calloused and lukewarm, tracing over your temple with consideration and care.

“Why else?”

“You've never tried to kiss me,” you noted, “or touch me like a lover. You never try to push our boundaries past anything that's comfortable for us. Even right now - I'm laying in your bed, but you refuse to touch me in a way you're unsure of.”

“Then you don't love me, either,” Zuko added. His body had gravitated flush to yours, your legs braided together under the pile of blankets you'd buried him in. “You only want to sleep with me when you're cold. You could just as easily call a servant for help.”

“And you only want to keep me warm out of obligation,” you agreed. “It wouldn’t make you look very good if I died of hypothermia on your watch.”

For a long moment, Zuko gazed at you. You basked in his silence, the easiness of his form so close to yours, the native feeling of his arm around your waist and his breath tickling your cheeks. The fire snapped quietly in its hearth, its flames rising and falling in time with his inhales and exhales.

“I’ve missed this,” Zuko admitted in a whisper. “Laying with you. I wish we could do it more often.”

“I’ve missed it, too,” you affirm. “I always used to sleep better with you.”

“And that’s it?” Zuko teased.

“That’s it,” you giggled back.

He chanced a kiss to your forehead, pressing his lips between your brows and letting them linger there, savoring the coolness of your skin. You shut your eyes, giving yourself entirely to his touch.

“In the new year… do you think we could be lovers?” he asked as he pulled away.

“... I think your uncle is right,” you murmured. “I think we already are.”

With a faint, bashful smile, Zuko pulled you closer (if the act were even possible), hugging you tightly to him; you held him close, pressing the whole of your body to his and soaking in his steady, comforting warmth. As the wind howled outside, shaking the flimsy wooden eaves of the feeble shelter around you, you fell asleep in the heat of his fireside, safe in the knowledge that his arms held you.

📚 table of contents 📚

✨ join me on patreon ✨

☕ buy me a coffee ☕

{ subscribers: @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @celamoon @omgwhattheeven @i-am-not-a-thot @fandomtrash1616 @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @just-another-romantic @berkeliums @eridanuswave @oleander-in-the-wind @kinismanditory @lammello @peppermenty @theawesomefactor123 @loganrwebb @ijustwannabecanadian @a-hopeless-fan @softvv @oddment-niwit-blubber-tweak @pearl-stonecutter @crazy0t @commander-rex @kittyddandnyla @abbyarchie @smol-grandpa @nonbinary-rogers @themanwiththemetalarmsdoll @witchywrter @canibea-whore-yet @fuckwhateverfuck @eridanuswave @duh-dobrik @sum-stuff13 @whalerus @yeetletzgetitjae @thedemigodsarealivebitch @irreplaceable-ecstasy @mysticpeacecrusade }

380 notes · View notes

halfsizehellboy · 3 years

Text

Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to stop damaging Republic Property

a codywan one-shot I wrote while I was stuck on beneficial effects last night. very cute, very short, mentions of gun use but it’s low key and canon-typical. based on this

"Oh, little gods, it is cold. Let me in." shudder Cody, rushing over to the small standard-issue bed (meant for one person) that is currently being occupied by Obi-wan.

"I don't see how you're cold, you're basically a furnace.” The complaint is lost in the shuffling of bodies and blankets, and trying to fit two grown humanoids on a bed meant for one. It's a truly cold evening on board the Negotiator, as their cooling systems got damaged after a particularly hilarious infestation of a rodent that had been picked up by a trooper (Waxer) off of a planet they'd just visited. Every room was varying degrees of freezing and cold, leaving the onboard residents to break out their extreme weather gear. Unfortunately, the infestation had taken over more important and time sensitive systems than the temperature control, so they've already been freezing for one day and were bound to be for another two.

Thankfully, Jedi General Obi-wan Kenobi has his human-furnace boyfriend; and Marshal Commander Cody has his loth-cat boyfriend, so they're warm. In case there was any confusion, it's them. They're boyfriends. Much to Cody's dismay, at the moment.

"Kriffing hells, why are you not wearing socks? You're an ice cube, Obi-wan. How are you still alive?” This is accompanied by multiple kriff's, a kark, and maybe a sweet force. They relax into each other, though, and before long Obi-wan is wrapped in Cody's arms, with his own around Cody's waist; trying his best to soak up any heat he could.

"So. How was that conference call with Fox on Coruscant?" asks Obi-wan, earning a long sigh in response.

"Long. I thought I was going to freeze solid standing there. How was the call with that planet's leader?" Cody shivers again at the memory of the conference room, which was somehow colder than Obi-wan's, where they were now.

"Tiresome. I've finally succeeded in convincing them that it was no fault of Waxer's, or their own; simply the creatures being curious and happening to be on the transport back to the ship. Luckily, they'll agree to take them back if we can round them all up." he shifts, squirming his way impossibly closer to Cody's chest.

"Do they know that it's going to be a couple of days? We still need to get that nav system reoriented, and there's clicks' worth of wiring to replace." He's tempted to check his comm for any news, but he was forcibly told that he couldn't just shoot the little bastards; so he tried to stun them, and then sweep them into a cage. The fuckers were fast, though, and he hit three men trying to do this. Eventually, he set up some traps, and then was told to go warm up because he was, quote, "Turning violet, Violet!" (Wooley had gotten his hands on some old holomovies, and they quickly spread through the barracks. There hasn't been an hour go by where there wasn't a reference). He's shaken out of his thoughts by the chirp of a comm, and Obi-wan groans below him.

"It's mine. I bet it's that senator who wanted to know more about the damages." Cody is just about to tell him to ignore it when he feels his arm extend, reaching out to the table across the room. A swoosh is heard, then a light smack as the comm hits Obi-wan's hand. Shivering, Obi-wan lets go of Cody's middle to operate the comm.

"Oh, it's Fox." he says confusedly, reaching out to call his datapad to him to check the messages.

"Fox? What's he want? I literally just saw him." Obi-wan shrugs his shoulders as best he can, and opens the notification. Cody pulls back to look at his face, and starts to worry when Obi-wan's eyes widen. "What is it? Is everything okay?" Obi-wan is progressively morphing his face into an as of yet unidentifiable expression; and Cody takes the datapad to see the message for himself.

FOX: Kenobi, I swear, if you keep damaging republic property like this I'm going to have to write you up.

Attached are two pictures, both of Cody, each with a hickey on his neck circled digitally.

"Kriffing hells, that little shit. I wonder if he's done this to Bly yet."

Obi-wan is laughing now, and it's not long before Cody joins in. The two do eventually get some sleep, entangled in each other's warmth as the negotiator hums coldly around them.

#codywan #not ao3 but if yall want I could put it there #gun mention tw

71 notes · View notes

ragingbookdragon · 4 years

Text

Love In Frozen Places

Outlaws x Tamaranean!Reader Story

A/N: Ayeeeeee this is a story I actually like! Enjoy! -Thorne <3

She watched him kick at the rubble, cursing as he began yanking chunks of ice and concrete away. It did nothing, the buildup too much for him to clear; the other man rested his hand on his arm, tugging lightly. “Jaybird. It’s no use. There’s too much rubble for us to clear right here.” He tipped his head to the hallway. “Let’s see if there’s another way out.” Jason jerked away, spinning on him angrily.

“It’s your fault we’re in this mess Roy! I told you not to use the explosives, but what did you do?!” Jason gestured to the room. “We’re stuck in a frozen lab!” Roy flinched ever so slightly at his anger but returned his own heated words.

“Yeah and if I hadn’t used the explosives, the three of us would be dead!” He pointed to the blocked entrance. “There are armed soldiers out there!” Roy turned his finger on himself, then to Jason and her. “I’m out of arrows, you’re out of ammo, and (Y/N)’s powers have been fluctuating all day! If I hadn’t blown up the entrance, we’d be full of lead right about now! I saved our lives!” Jason scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh yeah, save our lives only to end up freezing us to death!” He twisted, kicking at some of the ice, muttering, “Can’t believe I’m gonna freeze to death in the middle of fucking nowhere and it’s all your fault.” Roy sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry Jay.” (Y/N) watched the two for a moment before moving towards them, resting a hand on Jason’s back; her voice was calm as she said,

“It will do us no good to fight amongst each other.” She cast her gaze between the two men, catching Roy’s evergreen eyes. “We need to look for a way out and fast.” Jason turned back around, voice tight as he pointed.

“That was the only way out (Y/N). We’re trapped in here.” She paused for a moment, then said,

“Then we need to find something that will keep us warm.” Roy glanced around the room.

“I don’t think there’s gonna be much in here that will. Everything here is either frozen solid or it’s been scavenged.” He took another look around. “Might as well check anyway.” He walked off, leaving her and Jason beside one another; (Y/N) eyed Jason before moving past him to the shelves along the walls. She shifted through the remains, frowning as she realized Roy had been correct; everything in there had to have been scavenged before the lab was deserted. As she searched, a flash of silver caught her eye, and she halted, reaching for it.

“Boys…I think I found something.” Footsteps sounded behind her, and as they peered over her shoulders, she pulled it back. “I think this is one of those first aid blankets…the ones that preserve body heat.” Jason nodded, taking it from her, spreading it out.

“Looks to be in good condition.” He examined it, flipping it over. “I’m surprised seventy years in a Siberian laboratory hasn’t eaten it.” He looked up at the two. “There’s only one way to keep warm.” Roy snorted at his words as (Y/N) rolled her eyes, and they all collapsed against the wall, (Y/N) situated between the two. She grunted as they squeezed close to her, her arms digging into her sides; Roy heard her, and leaned close, murmuring,

“Can you feel the warmth (Y/N)?” She jerked her head up, glaring at him.

“I can feel something. And if you do not move your hand, I will rip it off.” His fingers twitched against her side, curling under the armor along her waist.

“But my fingers are freezing (Y/N)…and you feel like a furnace.” Before she could respond, another set of fingers curled along her skin on her other side, and a voice followed,

“Roy’s got a point (Y/N). Tamaraneans like you and Kory run hotter than us humans.” He looked at her, flashing his teal eyes. “Pretty please let us borrow your body heat so we don’t lose our fingers?” (Y/N) stared at him a moment, then heaved a sigh.

“…Fine…do as you wish…” The two chuckled, curling up against her. Roy rested his head along her shoulder, burrowing his face in her skin while Jason simply let his fingers rest along her side. After an hour, Jason had become like Roy, resting his head on her arm, and (Y/N) simply watched the blocked entrance, keeping guard. A moment passed, then Roy asked,

“Did you guys ever think that when you were kids, this is where you’d end up?” (Y/N) glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, listening as Jason shot back,

“Trapped in a frozen shithole? Yeah, that’s exactly what I thought about when I was a kid.” Roy opened his mouth to retort, but (Y/N) was quicker, quipping,

“Technically Gotham can be counted as a frozen shithole, so that is not such a far-off statement.” Roy leaned forward, a look of victory on his face as he yelled,

“HA! EAT IT!” (Y/N) chuckled as Jason gripped, and Roy looked at her. “What about you (Y/N)? Did you ever think you’d end up here?” She paused, voice soft as she asked,

“Surrounded by the ones I love most?” Her voice cut off, then she shook her head. “…No…as a child…the only thing I thought about was how good it would feel to take my revenge on those who corrupted my sister and I…” She could feel their eyes on her as she rested back along the wall. “I was filled with such hatred and rage as a child…I experienced things no child…no person should ever experience…and the only thing that kept me going was the thought that one day I would stand before them and pull their spines from their backs.” (Y/N) inhaled deeply, holding her breath for a moment, then exhaling shakily. “I never got the revenge I intended…but I received the world in the later years…” She looked between the two, smiling faintly. “So, no Roy…this is not where I thought I would end up…but there is nowhere I would rather be than here…with you both.” The looks they sent her made her cheeks warm and she cleared her throat, turning her head back to the front. “We are wasting precious energy…it is only going to get colder…stop talking and preserve it.” The two chuckled, resting their heads back along her arms.

A few hours later, the temperature had dropped considerably, and (Y/N), despite her alien physiology, could feel it seeping into her body. She knew that if it was affecting her, it was certainly affecting Jason and Roy. She took a breath, watching as her exhale became visible, and turned her head slightly, glancing at Jason; she leaned close to him, whispering, “Jason?” He inhaled, pushing up against her.

“Hmm?”

“Are you okay?” He nodded, clenching his jaw to avoid his teeth chattering together.

“Fine…just a little chilly…” (Y/N)’s eyes turned worried as she shifted her gaze to Roy, who was no doubt freezing at this point, as he was shivering against her body.

“Roy?” He gave no response at first and she wiggled her shoulder. “Roy? Are you awake?” He let out a low groan, the arm around her waist tightening.

“…‘M fine…jus’…resting my eyes…” (Y/N) shifted her body, uncurling his arm from around her waist. He let out a whine as she took his arm away, but he went silent as she pulled his body to hers, wrapping her arm around his waist. Roy dropped his head into her neck, his breath cool against her skin. (Y/N) did the same with Jason, letting him shift the same way Roy had against her. Her arms tightened the best they could around them. Fear surged through her as she looked between them. Roy was already beginning to fall asleep, and Jason didn’t seem too far behind him; she knew how different their bodies were compared to hers…they’d be gone long before she was. The very thought sent waves of terror through her veins and she squeezed tightly.

“You both need to stay awake. Falling asleep is too dangerous.” She nudged Roy. “Roy, wake up.�� He moaned, curling his arm across her stomach.

“…Lemme res’ a minute sweetheart.” The nickname made her grin despite the circumstances, but she quickly frowned.

“Roy, if you fall asleep you will die. Hypothermia is setting in. Do not fall asleep.” He nodded against her, though it seemed useless, and she turned her attention to Jason. “Jason?” He nodded, a bit more awake then Roy.

“I’m fine…I’m not at the stage yet.” Her frown seemed to deepen as she whispered,

“But you are getting close.” Jason said nothing, agreeing with her, and she closed her eyes, slamming her head back against the wall. “Why can I not use my powers?! What is going on with them?!”

“You’re fluctuating because it’s cold Doll…and that attack you took a while ago knocked you for a loop.” Jason made the same move Roy did, wrapping his arm around her waist; he dug his fingers into Roy’s sleeve, tapping at his skin. “Roy? Hey Roy? You up?” Roy twitched, cracking an eye open.

“Mmm?” Jason squeezed his wrist, voice quiet as he apologized,

“I’m sorry Roy…if I hadn’t taken this job…we wouldn’t be in this mess…” Roy chuckled, the sound forced as he shivered hard.

“‘S’not your fault…Jaybird…shot the entrance…my fault…” (Y/N) listened to the two apologize to one another. It seemed so final that that she felt her eyes watering. She shut her eyes, feeling the tears run down her cheeks, freezing against her skin; she sucked in a breath, voice shaky as she begged,

“Please don’t fall asleep Roy…Jay…please don’t leave me alone…” Their fingers twitched in response, voices soft as they assured,

“We’re not going anywhere Doll…promise…” Roy nodded.

“Mmm…what ‘ay said…” (Y/N) pulled them tighter to her, listening as their breathing became quiet. A little while later, Roy had all but stopped shivering against her, and Jason had now acted as Roy did, his words beginning to slur when she would talk to him. (Y/N) rubbed circles in Roy’s side, trying to give any warmth she could, and she kept Jason awake with any topic she could think of.

“And I began to wonder if I should have told Dick that he was eating the testicles of a prestigious beast from Tamaran.” Jason heaved a sigh, lips curling slightly.

“‘S funny Doll.” She glanced down at him, running her hand through his hair.

“Yes?” He nodded and she asked, “Would you try the prestigious delicacies of Tamaran?” Jason let out another laugh, shifting closer to her.

“…Maybe…depends on…what it is…” He shivered violently against her, sending worry up her spine as he burrowed into her neck. (Y/N)’s fingers curled around his neck, warming the back of his neck.

“Stay conscious Jason.” He weakly nodded, whispering,

“Trying to…” After a moment, (Y/N) frowned, eyes moving back to the rubble.

“I need to try and move that out.” She began to shift, heart clenching as Jason whined and Roy let out a quiet whimper. She turned, gently folding Roy and Jason together, and he cracked his eye open.

“What’re you doing?” (Y/N) tucked the blanket around them, rising from her knees.

“I need to move the rubble out of the way and signal for help.” She bent over, placing a hand on his cheek. “If you start to fall asleep, call for me, okay?” When he didn’t say anything, she tapped his cheek lightly. “Jason?” He nodded.

“Call you…got it.” She watched him for a moment, then moved to the lab entrance, picking up rubble and shoving it aside. The cold bit into her already freezing fingers, and she could barely feel each scrape and cut she got as she threw another chunk. She worked for a few minutes, barely denting the mass; she cursed, stepping back a few feet, raising an arm towards the rubble. (Y/N) tried to focus her energy to her palm, but the cold seemed to zap it all away, and nothing happened. She let out a curse in her native tongue, raising her hand again. Again, nothing happened, and she turned to them, eyes widening as she took in the sight of Jason’s head lowered, hanging limply. (Y/N) rushed to them, shaking them roughly.

“Jason! Roy!” They gave her no response and with realization setting in, (Y/N) began to hyperventilate. She shook them again. “You both promised you would not leave me! Think about me and the others! Dick and my sister! Your families!” The tears began to flow down her cheeks as she shouted helplessly. “Please do not leave me here alone!” (Y/N) pressed her forehead up against their heads, whimpering, “…I am afraid.” She jerked back, scrambling for the entrance; furiously, she heaved away the ice and rubble, screaming wildly. “SOMEONE HELP ME! PLEASE! THEY ARE DYING!” Something surged inside her at the truth in her words, and a bright blast of white light extended from her hand, slamming against the blockage. It blew the rubble away, but as she took a step towards it, her knees buckled beneath her and she hit the ground. (Y/N) couldn’t stop herself as she dropped, face resting against the frigid metal flooring; her fingers dug into the metal as she tried to will her body to move, but to no avail. She began to give up, reality affirming around her, until she heard voices coming from the hallway. Someone turned the doorway, gasping, then running to her; they slid beside her, turning her over.

“(Y/N)!” Her eyelids fluttered and she looked up into a familiar face.

“…Dick?” He shifted his gaze to the wall, then to the hallway.

“B! They’re in here! Hurry!” He looked down at her, a worried smile on his lips. “You’re gonna be okay (Y/N). We’re here to help. You’re all gonna be okay.” She nodded wordlessly, eyelids beginning to droop at his promise, his shouts drowning together as darkness called her name.

A Day Later:

Wherever she was, it was warm. She felt as if she was back in their apartment, curled up in her blankets, safe and sound. If this is heaven, she thought, don’t make me leave. She drifted for a while, then she felt fingers trace along her hand, a comforting voice following. “Sister? Are you awake? You’ve been asleep for a long time. Wake up.” Koriand’r? She thought. “(Y/N). Wake up.” The firmness of her voice shook (Y/N) from sleep, and she peeled her eyelids open, immediately closing them as the light blinded her. “Take a moment sister…wake up slowly.” (Y/N) grunted, muttering,

“I could do it without your nattering in my ear Kory.” A slap connected to her arm and she opened her eyes, staring at her grinning, but teary-eyed sister; Kory took one look and leaped towards her, wrapping her arms around her neck.

“Oh, I was so worried when Dick called me yesterday. He said you and the others were in bad shape.” (Y/N)’s eyes went wide, and she jerked away, flipping over the side of the bed to her feet. She wobbled, seeing Kory rising out of the corner of her eye. “(Y/N)? What are you doing?! You are not ready to move!” She paid Kory no mind, holding herself up along the wall.

“I need to see Jason and Roy. Now.” (Y/N) made it to the door when it swung open, revealing Dick; he jumped back in surprise, obviously not expecting her to be up and moving.

“(Y/N)?!” She reached out, collapsing onto him. His arms wound around her, holding her up. “What are you doing up? You need to rest!” (Y/N) shook her head, raising it to look him in the eyes.

“Take me to Jason and Roy…please Dick…” His gaze shifted over her to Kory, who reluctantly nodded; Dick heaved a sigh.

“…Alright…but I’m carrying you there…you’re still weak.” (Y/N) scoffed at him.

“I will not be carried like a bride on her wedding night.” Dick snorted, then bent down.

“Fine. How ‘bout a piggyback ride?” (Y/N) eyed him a moment, then climbed onto his back.

“…This is suitable.” He chuckled as he walked them down the hallways. She looked around as she rested her chin on his shoulder, arms wound around his neck. “Where are we?”

“The Watchtower.” (Y/N) blinked in surprise.

“I assumed we would be at the manor.” Dick nodded at that.

“I understand why you’d think that, but Bruce said it would be safer and faster to get you here.” Dick stopped in front of a door, leaning close so the scanner could catch his eye; the door slid open and he stepped inside. “When we found you three, you were in bad shape…we didn’t think Roy was gonna make it.” (Y/N)’s fingers clenched in his shirt, and as he felt it, he reassured, “Roy’s fine (Y/N)…he’s just needing a bit more recovery.”

“…And Jason?” Dick snorted.

“Jaybird’s stubborn…he’s been awake for about an hour before you.” She nodded, and they stepped through another entry, and she saw Roy asleep on a bed, Jason curled in the fetal position halfway down the bed; Dick cleared his throat. “Hey Jaybird…brought you a surprise.” Jason lifted his head, eyes widening as he took in (Y/N).

“Doll!” She felt Dick lower her to the ground and she ran on uneasy legs until she collapsed on the bed next to him. They wound their arms around each other, and (Y/N) couldn’t help the tears.

“I was so worried that you were gone.” She pulled away, holding his face in her hands. “I am so glad you are alive and well.” (Y/N) let go, glancing at Roy. “Is he?” Jason nodded, taking her hands in his.

“He’s fine…he’ll need another day of rest before he can be up and about. But,” He squeezed her hands, making her look at him. “Bruce told me that you had cleared the rubble from the door.” (Y/N) nodded.

“I do not know how…but I did.” He shook his head.

“However you did it, you saved our lives. Bruce said another few minutes and we would’ve been goners.” He smiled at her, reaching up to brush the tears from her skin. “You saved our lives (Y/N).” She smiled at him, letting out a watery laugh as more tears flowed down her cheeks; Dick watched them, then caught Jason’s eye, nodding as he left the room. The door shut and (Y/N) pulled back, eyes turning to Roy; she leaned over, resting against him, watching Jason lay beside her. The two were silent, listening to Roy breathe, then she whispered,

“I think we should take a week off and do nothing.” Jason chuckled, fingers brushing along her cheek.

“I like that idea…but I swear to god if I wake up and you and Roy have crawled into bed with me, I will blow a gasket.” (Y/N) giggled, snuggling closer into the blankets.

“You act like you hate it…but you don’t…” Jason glared at her for a moment, then heaved a sigh.

“…Yeah…I don’t…” She smiled widely, and he reached over, gently poking her nose. “Take a nap (Y/N)…we’ll be here when you wake up.” Her smile dropped, the memories of the day before flashing to mind, but a squeeze to her hand brought her back, and she met firm teal eyes. “I promise.” (Y/N) swallowed thickly, then nodded, closing her eyes. Just as she was beginning to drift, she heard Jason whisper something that brought another smile to her lips. “We won’t leave you again.”

345 notes · View notes

gloriafc · 4 years

Text

Paul imprinting on Bella's older cousin

You were reluctant to follow your younger cousin, but you promised your uncle you'd watch over her when she went into her depressive state.

Of course he trusted you with her clumsy self since you're a surgeon and can fix up any of her bumps and bruises.

"Bella I get he's your best friend but do you think this is the best idea?" "You don't get it Y/N. You wouldn't understand. He's all I have left."

You start to worry when you see a buff guy carrying your cousin into the Emergency room.

"Y/N you don't have to worry, Jacob was there. I'm fine." "Does this look fine to you Bella. You show up in the ER with a cut half the size of your forehead. You have your dad worried everyday, and we can all tell something is going on with you. And now you're crashing motorcycles. Yeah that looks perfectly fine to me."

Of course Bella constantly shows up at your house to ensure you won't tell her dad about the bikes. She goes as far as dragging you with her and her now different looking best friend on your day off. They both drag you to a small house where a couple of boys start teasing Jake. A female catches your eye, she moves to hug Bella before turning to you, making you notice everyone staring especially one guy.

“Hi, I’m Emily.” “Y/N” “Bella’s cousin right? Jake told us about you.”

Emily quickly pulls you in, becoming quick friends. You find yourself heading over to gossip often, Bella going with you to see Jake. Sam becoming comfortable enough having you around all the time because it makes Emily happy.

Of course since you’re around all the time you’ve gotten to know everyone else well enough. You’ve had dinner with them enough times to think of them as friends.

With time everyone tells you about the pack and about the imprint, one of the main reasons is because the Cullens are back and they worry something could happen to you.

“Wait how is that possible?” “Y/N I know it the whole imprint process can be confusing.” “No not that. I spent years studying anatomy and you just told me your bones move and shift on their own and you turn into giant dogs. How is that possible?”

Of course you take the time to talk about the imprint. At first you find it weird that Paul is only 19 and you’re 24. But eventually you get over it. And start a relationship with him.

The entire pack actually find it interesting when they find out new things about you. In turn they let you study their wolves where you slowly become their in-home nurse. Re-breaking and setting any bones they break when they fight each other.

“Wait so you’re like a genius?” “...” “Stop looking at the medical magazine and answer me!” “Jared. I will break all of your ribs and let them set wrong. Yes I’m a genius, I graduated medical school at 17. I’m twenty-four and Chief of Trauma with a photographic memory. Any more questions about how smart I am?” “Can you help me with my science homework?”

Eventually you learn about the Cullens being vampires, and you quickly grow past it knowing Carlisle as your mentor before he left.

Paul finds himself at your house often, not wanting to go home. He loves watching how calm you look while studying or talking about surgery in general. You know he doesn’t fully understand but you appreciate the fact that he listens more than any boyfriend you’ve had before.

Your relationship is filled with constant teasing.

"Babe you need to grow. The whole bed on the floor thing is not working for me." "Then go sleep somewhere else." "Why do you hate me?!" "You're a pain in my ass." "In my defense it's a nice ass."

Sometimes you forget he’s five years younger than you. You often find yourself asking him to stay the night knowing he doesn’t want to go home anyways. The two of you will stay up talking about his problems at home, the way he talks makes him seem so much older with everything his dad has made him deal with.

You slowly find yourself falling in love with everything about him, even his short temper.

You're the first one to say I love you. Shortly after Paul admits he's wanted to say it for a while but never knew how you felt since you have a different mentality about relationships, being older and all.

"Babe I love you and everything but if you touch me with your cold doctor hands again I'll stick you in the furnace."

Jared constantly teases you about being out of Paul's league to get a rise out of him.

"Hey Y/N if your last boyfriend was a surgeon, what made you fall for this flea bag?"

Paul occasionally brings you lunch when you’ve been busier at work, reminding you to take a break so you don’t over work yourself.

Of course when the colder months start to come you’re always at work so you don’t go around as often, resulting in some of the newer pack members not knowing who you are. You end up meeting them when Emily gets into a car accident, a car sliding on the ice into hers. Since you're there to ID her the nurses quickly call Sam down resulting in the whole pack and tribal council sitting in the waiting room as you perform her surgery. When everything is done and she's stable you make your way down to the waiting room, Paul and Sam are the first ones standing. You can just see all the stress on Sam's face.

"Is she okay?" "She had multiple blows to her head from her car flipping. Broken ribs and a broken leg. She's stable right now, we put her into a medically induced coma to help her heal without extra stress, we'll wake her up in a couple days. She'll probably have a slight case of amnesia but it should wear off shortly after waking up. She'll be fine."

Sam quickly pulls you into a bone crushing hug whispering thank you into your ear. Hearing his voice crack brings tears to your eyes once you remember you just operated on one of your best friends.

You manage to pull some strings and Emily is put into a bigger room so multiple people can see her at once, knowing she enjoys being around everyone. Once you see Sam start to cry at the sight of her sleeping all bandaged up you quickly leave the room with tears in your eyes. You make it down the hallway before you have to lean against the wall, tears streaming down your face and unable to breathe. You quickly feel arms wrap around you making you turn and grip Paul's shirt as you slowly feel yourself loose control of your emotions.

"It's okay. She's okay. You saved her." "She looked so bad." "She probably did. But because of you she's alive." "She almost died on that table. She almost died and it would've been my fault if she didn't make it." "Don't think that. Don't think about her dying. And don't think about it being your fault. You were here and you did your job. You're not the person who crashed into her car. You're the one who brought her back to us."

You're the person who takes her out of her coma. Of course the entire pack is there. Her entire room filled with flowers, balloons, and cards.

When she wakes up she cries when she sees your face. At first you think she's going into shock but she just grabs you pulling you into a hug.

"I remember going in and out of consciousness. I remember seeing you. I could hear you telling the nurses to call Sam and a whole bunch of other doctor words. I saw you climb over me to perform CPR. You were covered in blood. My blood. When the other doctors were pushing the bed to the OR, you stayed over me the whole way. I could hear everything until they put the mask over my face." "You heard me say-" "That you wouldn't leave until you saved me."

You can't help the tears that start falling down your face as Emily pulls you into another hug.

When Emily gets discharged Paul finds himself just staying at your house. He can feel you constantly worrying and has to remind you that Sam's not letting Emily out of his sight any time soon.

Of course he starts to worry when you put yourself back into work but knows you're better when you start telling him about the stupid things people do that make them end up in the hospital.

When everything starts to go back to normal Paul feels himself relax when you come around more. He loves watching you talk with Emily as you cook, or sewing the boys last pairs of shorts.

"I swear this is the last time I'm sewing your shorts. I didn't go to medical school to work as your seamstress." "But you're so good at sewing." "I sew skin all day, what do you expect."

Eventually as your relationship progresses with Paul everyone finds that his anger has simmered down a ton. What no one knows is that Paul actually proposed, without a ring but it's the thought that counts. Yeah it's really early, especially for someone his age but you couldn't be happier, and you both agreed to wait for an appropriate time to get married even if that meant years.

Eventually you just flat out ask Paul to move in.

"Are you positive?" "Paul were engaged and all your stuff is practically here, except for the shirts I don't believe you actually own."

Of course you realize that having him live with you results in a ton of sex and constant naked cuddles. You honestly don't even have a need for blankets at this point, you sleep next to a space heater anyways.

Because you saved her life Emily names her and Sam's first kid after you.

"This is Monica Y/M/N Uley."

Eventually Paul saved up the money and got you the perfect ring.

"Is this why you've been working those odd jobs and weird shifts." "You know I had to get you the best, and it wouldn't be the best if I didn't do the work to get it."

Of course all of your close friends are furious you two didn't tell them you were engaged sooner.

"Did he just propose? That's so cute." "No we've been engaged for months now Emily." "And you're just telling me?! I'm skinning that boy alive next time I see him." "Please don't. I kind of need him alive for the next eighteen years." "You're pregnant too?!"

Since Emily's the only one who knows you're pregnant she helps you plan to tell Paul. She may or may not have stolen a whole bunch of pregnancy tests from the hospital with your help.

She makes the used tests into a bouquet that you set on the kitchen table for Paul to see when he gets home from patrol.

You sit in the living room knowing the first place Paul will go is the kitchen to make a sandwich.

"I'm home!"..."What the hell? Are these all pos-"

Before you realize what's going on you're being spun around by a very happy fiance and soon to be daddy.

#twilight imagine #Bella Swan #paul lahote imagine #paul lahote x reader #jacob black #imprint #jared cameron #emily young #sam uley

363 notes · View notes

aethelflaedladyofmercia · 4 years

Text

Blizzard! Broken Thermostat! Only One Bed!

A winter Good Omens story

[A/N: I’ve had this one under my hat for a few weeks, waiting for Snowed-In season to arrive. Well, it turned cold the last few days, it might snow early next week, and my furnace won’t light so you get it now. Enjoy!]

“I don’t think you fully appreciate how lucky we are,” Crowley growled, sauntering down the hallway. The hotel key – a physical key, the building was a big, drafty Victorian manor – dangling from one hand, the other hand shoved as far as he could get it into the pocket of his jeans. “This blizzard came out of nowhere.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale paused to look out the window, watching white flakes drift down into the well-lit parking lot. “Any snowfall the first week of November is quite unexpected, even this far north.”

“Not a snowfall, Angel. A blizzard. I wouldn’t have stopped if these weren’t dangerous driving conditions.”

“Oh, absolutely.” Aziraphale waved one hand in the direction of the roads outside. “Why if it continues to, ah, blizzard at this rate, we could be looking at three, possibly even four inches by morning. Far more dangerous than driving the Bentley through a wall of fire, I’m sure.”

“Perhaps not that dangerous,” Crowley conceded. “But the Bentley’s been through enough this year. I won’t take any chances. We stay the night here, and if the roads are cleared in the morning –” Aziraphale’s throat clearing sounded suspiciously like a laugh – “fine, when the roads are cleared, we can drive the rest of the way back to London.”

“When you put it like that,” Aziraphale turned away from the window, quickly catching up to Crowley, “we were incredibly lucky to find a fine luxury hotel only one minute up the road.”

“And with one room left,” Crowley smirked as they arrived at the door marked 404.

“Sold out on a Thursday, no less.” Even behind dark lenses, Crowley couldn’t even attempt to meet the angel’s eyes. “Many things about this situation are immensely improbable.”

“Yes. Well.” Crowley bent over the lock, hiding his suddenly warm face. “As I said. Lucky.” The door unlatched and he quickly stepped through into the dark room. “And would you look at that – oh.” He fumbled at the wall until he found the light switch. “Would you look at that!”

“I can’t, dear, you’re blocking the door.”

Crowley shuffled to the side, trying to keep up the momentum. “There’s – look – there’s only one bed!”

“Mmm.” Aziraphale walked past, unconcerned, to where two plush chairs flanked a small table. Behind them enormous bay windows extended across the entire wall. “Oh, the view is quite lovely. There’s a duck pond! Pity about the ice.”

“Er, oh, is there?” Crowley crossed the room to take in the scenery, keeping the table between them. A line of lampposts across the grounds lit a brick path that circled the pond, nestled among gentle hills. The snow and mist made little halos around each light. Rectangular shadows hinted at hedges – the gardens were probably impressive in the spring.

“This room comes with breakfast, correct? Did you see a menu? I expect they do room service; I would much prefer to eat here than in the dining room we passed.”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley interjected, hoping to get the conversation back on track. “I think you’re ignoring a bigger question.”

“Hmm?” The angel turned away, crossing to study the widescreen TV in the corner with mild distaste.

“The bed, Angel.” Crowley pointed at the room’s central item. King-sized mattress, mounds of fluffy pillows, thick duvet folded back enough to show Egyptian cotton sheets with obscenely high thread counts. “There’s, well, one bed.”

“Yes, I can count.” Aziraphale gave a flat, piercing look that made Crowley squirm where he stood. “I would think that since only one of us sleeps, that is in fact the optimal number of beds.”

“Ah.” Golden eyes hidden by black lenses glanced around the room. “So, you’re just planning…”

“To sit here, enjoy the view, and read a book.” Aziraphale produced one from the pocket of his jacket. “I always carry something to entertain myself in emergencies.”

In a long quiet moment, they both continued to inspect the room. Aziraphale gave a happy hum when he found the kettle and a selection of black and herbal teas. Crowley, meanwhile, was busy with a tamper-proof electronic box on the wall.

“Oh, no!” He finally announced with all the drama picked up from centuries of theatergoing. “The thermostat! It’s broken!”

“Oh, dear.” Aziraphale walked over to look. “Well, I’m sure I can fix it.” He raised his right hand to snap his fingers.

“What? No!” Crowley pushed the hand back down, then realized what he was doing and shoved his own back in his pocket. “You shouldn’t fix it, because, er, the, ah,” he waved his free hand helplessly, wishing an excuse, a word, even a coherent sound, would emerge. Aziraphale, the bastard, just watched him with impassive blue eyes. “The humans might notice. If you fix it wrong.”

The angel waited, as if expecting more. “Well. Can’t have that, I suppose. Should we call down and see if it can be fixed?”

“No. It’s…late. And not that cold. It’s only stuck at, er, 13 degrees. We’ll be fine. Just, you know, chilly.”

“You know, Crowley, I have a wonderful idea.” He finally met Aziraphale’s gaze, and the angel broke into a brilliant smile. “What do you say to some tea? They have provided quite the selection. Chamomile. Rose hip. Orange blossom. Do you have a preference?”

Crowley shrugged, giving letting out a contemplative “hmm,” that turned into an exasperated groan as Aziraphale bustled off to fill the kettle in the bathroom.

“Oh, my dear, the bathtub is simply enormous. Perhaps I should take a soak while you sleep, it would be most refreshing.”

Crowley slammed the back of his head against the wall twice. “That sounds…nice?” He stood up straight and crossed his arms as the angel returned. “You know. Tea isn’t going to help me much. Since I’ll be sleeping. And unable to drink.”

“There are extra blankets in the closet. You know how to put them on the bed, don’t you?”

“Uuunh.” Crowley turned to the closet, bracing both hands on the closed door. There was one thing he hadn’t tried yet, but he didn’t like to use it. “Aziraphale. You know. I’m a snake. Snakes are cold-blooded. If I’m not warm enough when I sleep…I could die.” Every word of it was technically true.

“Crowley. Look at me.” The voice was colder than the air outside. The demon turned to find blue eyes glaring at him without amusement. “This has gone far enough. You will not die from being chilly. I know perfectly well you are not cold-blooded. And you said not two minutes ago this temperature is only a little uncomfortable for you.” Hands clasped behind his back, he took a step closer. “Now. Are you going to keep playing around or are you going to say what’s on your mind?”

“Ngk.” Crowley shuffled his feet, glancing at every inch of space in the room except exactly where Aziraphale stood. “Angel. Aziraphale. Could you…” Removing the glasses, he tried to meet his angel’s eyes. “Would you share the bed with me? Just to keep me company. Til I fall asleep.” His voice got faster and softer as he talked. “Cause I like it. When you’re close to me.”

“My dear, darling Crowley.” Aziraphale walked the last few steps to close the distance between them, placing one hand on the demon’s chin, pressing warm lips to his cheek. “Of course. All you ever had to do was ask.”

The bed really was extremely comfortable. Aziraphale leaned back against the headboard, propped up by several of the softest pillows he had ever felt, sighing happily.

Crowley had ignored the pillows entirely, choosing to rest his head against the angel’s heart, body pressed close, legs in a tangle under the duvet. Aziraphale could hardly see how such an angle could be comfortable but Crowley was fast asleep, a soft smile released across his face that would never have been allowed were he awake.

It was only then, left hand slowly combing through red hair, that Aziraphale realized the thermostat was still broken. He could fix it with a snap of his fingers but, well, they were all entwined with Crowley’s across his stomach, and what if moving like that woke him? That would be too great a tragedy.

Outside the window, wasn’t the snow falling just a little thicker? Could be a blizzard after all.

He shifted his arm gently, pulling Crowley closer, feeling the heat of him pressed into the curve of his side. Watching the smile stretch a little farther across that narrow face.

Yes, he should stay a bit longer. After all, they wouldn’t want to get cold.

[This story isn’t on my AO3 page, but you can find my other Good Omens fics there! Please reblog if you enjoyed!]

101 notes · View notes

what-the--curtains · 4 years

Text

Braving the Elements

Chapter 13: To Russia with Love

TW: Swearing

Song(s)

Keep it Comin Love - KC & The Sunshine Band (song playing on radio when they drive to hotel)

Cold as Ice - Foreigner (Just for the overall chapter, its cold i had too!)

Authors note: I know its from russia with love but I liked this one better!

You're sitting in the living room filing your nails and minding your own business when you’re called into the meeting room.

“Alright everyone suit up, we’ve got the locates on his houses! Luckily, it looks like Roman hasn’t flown anyone into any of the countries recently so we can assume that they’re empty. That being said, once you arrive at your destinations you’re still expected to stake them out for the first two days, if there’s no activity on the second day you can place cameras around the location and hook them up to the systems we’ve provided you with. If nothing happens, if no activity is detected, then you’ll get the go ahead to move into the house and get those files. If at any point you suspect someone is watching you, or that you’ve been made, inform SHIELD and get out as soon as possible. Everyone got it?” Tony pauses to see if anyone has questions.

“Good! We’ve split everyone into teams. Myself and Peter will be going to Hawaii, Sam, you and Clint will be heading to Italy. Wanda and Vision you’ll go to Sweden, leaving the rest of you to Russia.”

“Why so many in Russia?” Sam asks.

“Frankly, it’s more likely he has eyes there, so safety in numbers.”

“How did you pick where people are going, I mean really Tony why do you get to go to an island paradise?” you complain. You were not the type of person who enjoyed frigid temps.

“Well, because I’m in charge so I get to decide.” He says smugly before leaving.

“Well it was really great working with you all, but I have to quit because I refuse to freeze to death in the Siberian wilderness!” you say throwing your hands in the air and slowly sliding down your chair

“Oh c’mon it won’t be that bad!” Sam say laughing

“Says the boy who gets to go to ITALY.” You say emphasizing every syllable of the last word.

“Who’s the drama queen now!” he retorts, causing you to sit back up in your chair and stop complaining. After wallowing In self-pity for a few more minutes you get up and go pack before getting in one of the team's jets with Nat, Steve and Bucky.

Day 1

The jet lands deep in the Russian wilderness in the early hours of the morning. You’re met by a group of agents who hand over keys to a truck which you all pile into.

“Jesus fuck its cold here. Who has a holiday home in Russia anyways?” you ask, leaning forward to turn up the heat from the back seat.

“It's actually pretty beautiful here in the summer, but you're right it is way too cold right now!” Nat responds, rubbing her hands on her thighs to warm them up.

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad, I don’t hear Bucky complaining” Steve chimes in,

“Ya, easy for you to say! You two have super serum making you hot!” You retort.

“Aw you hear that Buck, she thinks we're hot” Steve says, pretending to be flattered.

“Oh shut up Steve I’ve seen your bare ass.” You respond, causing Bucky to snort and Nat to shoot you daggers.

“ Can’t you control the elements make some fire or whatever” he says

“Firstly, that’s not how it works and secondly, engulfing my body in flames isn’t exactly a solution if you ask me.” Although you had contemplated it briefly.

You pull into a small hotel on the outskirts of town at around noon.

“Alright, stakeout rotation, Y/N and Nat you're up first, we’ll get everyone checked in while you’re out.” You and Nat drive the truck out to Romans house, parking it in the driveway of the neighbouring cabin. The two of you move to the back seat and pull out your binoculars zooming in on Romans place. It was a large wood cabin approximately three stories with glass windows facing south. The upper stories have balconies gazing out onto the lake and overlooking the front porch. It was one of many luxurious cabins along the private lake.

“You want me to light the car on fire?” you ask Nat after a few minutes and she seems to contemplate it for a second before muttering a No.

“So how was that night with Steve? We never really talked about it.” you ask

“He hasn’t really spoken to me about it either, I think he’s embarrassed, or awkward or both.” She says looking slightly hurt.

“I mean me and Bucky did kind of see his dick that night maybe that’s why he’s being so weird?” you offer.

“You guys saw it?” She exclaims.

“We didn’t mean too but you guys were half naked in the kitchen it just kinda happened!” you respond defensively.

“Ugh, remind me to never go clubbing with you again it leads to terrible choices!” she says burying her head in her hands.

“He was that bad hey?” you laugh

“Shut up, that’s not what I meant,” she says hitting your arm.

“I know I know, I mean he’s from the past so he’s probably just no use to the concept of sleeping with someone before marriage. So he was good then?” you ask, pressing her for details

“Oh ya he got the hang of what I wanted very quickly, and you’ve seen his dick..” she trails off before continuing. “What about you and Barnes can’t say I was convinced when you told me you hadn’t just fucked in the living room.”

“Nothing.” You say she gives you a side eye “Really! Some kids threw a glass bottle at him, well at me, he just got in the way. So I was cleaning him up.”

“Whatever you say.” She smirks. You let Nat take a nap for the rest of the watch knowing she had a long night ahead of her.

Steve relieves you around 1am and you return to the hotel shivering unable to feel your face. The only thing on your mind is getting in the shower and getting a few hours of sleep before you have to go back into the freezing temperatures. You bump into Bucky on your way in and ask where the rooms are. He leads you up to the third floor and he shows the two rooms, you and Nat were in one room with a single queen bed and Steve and Bucky were down the hall with two double beds.

“Hey no fair why do we have to share?” you ask, looking up at him.

“That’s what you get for taking first watch.” he replies snarkily.

“God you suck sometimes!” you say shoving past him into your room.

“I can do more than that if you want” he replies, leaning in the doorway.

“Get outta here Barnes” you say pushing him out of the room “I gotta shower i’m frozen!”

“Alright, well i’m just next door if you need anything” he says, grinning as you close the door in his face. You manage to get a few good hours of sleep before being woken up around 12pm by Nat starting the shower in your shared room.

Day 2

“How was the watch?” you ask her, letting out a yawn.

“Interesting.” She said with a slight blush forming on her cheeks

“Oh my god tell me!” you say throwing a pillow at her. She tells you how her and Steve had been really flirty, and that he had even given her his jacket to stay warm when he had noticed her shivering.

“So cute I may puke.” you respond, rubbing your eyes. “Anyways the boys stuck us with the shared bed.”

“Well, I say we do something about that,” she says, pulling Steve’s room key out of the jacket he had lent her. The two of you proceed to break into their room and move all their stuff out and all your stuff in.

“That’ll show them” you both high five before flopping down onto the beds and falling asleep. Your alarm goes off at midnight. You get up and dress yourself in your warmest clothes and head out to relieve Steve.

“Hey Steve, you're all done.” you say scooting out of the harsh cold of the morning and into the slightly less frigid car. The sun hadn’t risen yet making it a good 10 degrees cooler than when you had been there yesterday afternoon.

“Any movement?” you ask

“None so far.” Bucky responds “how rich was this?”

“God if zillionaires existed he was that for sure.” you say wrapping your arms around yourself to maintain body heat.

“So that’s how he kept you around so long.” he remarks.

“Well it wasn’t his kind and nurturing demeanour.” You state. It was too early for talking or thinking so you both sat there in silence staring at the cabin. After the first few hours you couldn’t feel your hands or feet or face. Using your lighter you make a small ball of fire in an attempt to warm yourself up but to no avail.

Bucky glances from his binoculars to you, back to the house then quickly back to you again realizing that you were looking colder by the second. With the watch not over for another 8 hours Bucky knew he had to do something.

“Look, this isn’t a move, but you're about 5 minutes away from becoming a human popsicle and seeing as I’m basically a human furnace…” he trails off realizing the confused look you were giving him. “Well what I’m saying is that I can keep you warm”

“I bet you say that to all the girls freezing to death.” you retort, staying in place feeling slightly stubborn and like you had to prove something to him. Or maybe it was because you didn’t want to get too close to him, afraid of how it might make you feel.

“Seriously,” he says, with a small chuckle “if you die I think Wanda and Nat will execute me”

“I’m fine” you mumble

“No you aren’t. Just come here” he says pulling you onto his lap with ease.

“Jesus you are warm.” you say as you curl up into him. He wraps his human arm around you knowing it’ll be warmer for you and uses the metal ones to hold up the binoculars. He feels your hands moving absentmindedly over his chest. He laughs “Are you feeling me up doll?”

“Well let’s just say I get why so many ladies love you.” you respond

“What? It isn't my shining personality?” he asks, almost offended.

“The only thing shining about you is your arm.” you say with a laugh.

You two stay like until you’ve warmed up enough to go back to your seat. You two wait until you reach the 48 hour mark before heading into the yard to set up the cameras and returning back to the hotel.

#bucky x reader #bucky x oc #bucky x you #avengers fanfiction #braving the elements #bucky barnes #bucky barnes slow burn #bucky barnes angst #bucky fluff #Spotify

7 notes · View notes

heartwoodventures · 4 years

Text

The Crystal Man Conclusion

Part 1 Part 2

If it was at all possible, Coerthas was even colder once the sun had sunk low behind the mountains. As night darkened the land, there wasn’t much to keep the mind distracted from the frigid wind that mercilessly found its way through any opening of clothing, no matter how small.

Ifoux had found his bed bells ago but the small band of mercenaries had a long night ahead of them as they staked out the Elezen’s makeshift graveyard, waiting for these would-be graverobbers the man had insisted were about.

"B-bloodeh hells, I ferget how much I hate Coerthan nights...no amount o' clothes evah truleh protects ye..." Nazyl grumbled, all bundled up next to a crate. He couldn't possibly grow tired in this freezing weather even if he was on his last legs.

As if to add insult to injury a heavy snow began to fall, sending a wave of disgruntled complaints through the party. For a band that was supposed to be lying in wait, they were doing a horrible job of it thus far.

"There seems to be a good place to hide over there by the wood pile. Perhaps we should get into position?" Rolanda pointed out, ever polite, but the Au Ra’s underlying message was clear; ‘And keep quiet.’

Aislinn eyed the woodpile, noticing the roof over it also provided shelter from the snow. "Makes sense. No point standing around so close to the graves we're supposed to be watching." she nodded, as she stamped her feet in an effort to keep them warm.

"Anything’s better than getting battered by this god awful ice. I second the motion," Aiswyda managed between shivers.

While the rest of them tucked themselves in close to the woodpile, N’yami chose a different route altogether and climbed atop the roof instead. The Seeker laid down with her carbuncle snuggled under her chest. Within a few minutes the snow started to cover them, providing a nice hiding spot. "Keep a lookout, Whack." She whispered to her companion, and the summoned chirped in agreement.

Then, there was nothing to do but wait. The biting cold ceased any inclination to talk and time stretched to a standstill. The once white landscape steadily darkened, until naught was visible but faint lights from faraway settlements. With a new moon in the sky, there was not even the benefit of its silver glow this night, the muffled silence of drifting snow leaving each of them with only their own thoughts for company.

The wintry quiet made the sudden sound of glass shattering all the more shocking. A loud and piercing sound that came directly from Ifoux’s hut. As one, the band jolted with alarm, several hands flying to the hilts, grips and quivers of their own weapons.

"A thief?!" Tana hissed out.

Nazyl scanned the area. It didn't feel right to leave their hiding place...but the sound was concerning, "M-mayhaps someone should check on our c-client..." he said, his teeth chattering in the cold.

N'yami stood up and shook the snow off herself, dropping down from her hiding spot and drawing her gunblade as she started heading towards the house. Several paces behind her, firearms drawn, Aislinn and Rolanda wordlessly circled around the house to cover the Seeker.

"I'll s-stay here n' watch fer anehthon' unusual. Holler if somethin' happens." Nazyl said as loudly as he dared as the three disappeared into the night.

In the darkness, not much can be seen...but much can be heard. There came the sound of snow crunching underfoot and heavy, gusty breaths off to the right of the woodpile, in the exact opposite direction from where the three women had gone.

Nazyl jumped from the logs, letting his ears guide him towards the heavy footfalls, sword fully drawn. His eyes strained to find something to pin the sound on. Tana and Aiswyda, not far behind.

Reaching the hut, N’yami pushed the door open slowly, her ruby orbs scanning the inside of the house to see what had caused the crash, her carbuncle perched on her shoulder. "If this guy gets me killed we're taking all his rugs, Whack." She mumbled to the carbuncle.

The living room area appeared untouched, though the floor was unnaturally wet. Once inside, the Seeker noted it was noticeably warmer and even a bit humid. She pushed further in, heading toward Ifoux's bedroom, whose door was left ajar.

"Odd..." She took a couple more careful steps forward as she entered the living room, sending out a pulse of her own aether to sense for anything living or dead, using it as a sonar of sorts.

But as she crept her way into the space all that met her was a bedroom that felt as heated as a furnace and a shattered window. Ifoux was nowhere to be found. She stood there, puzzling over the sight until a bellow from outside grabbed her attention.

"Stop right there!" Nazyl shouted, "Ye'll go no furthah!"

From behind the hut a gangly man-shaped creature had come into view. Although hard to make out in the dark, the beast looked as if an Elezen form had been stretched beyond any natural limits. The thing now teetered on four spindly limbs as it crunched its way across the snow, lifting its head to sniff the air, blatantly ignoring the lalafell’s shouts.

"Have it yer way." Nazyl grunted as he aimed a strike at the creature’s legs. In the darkness his sword bit through empty air.

The creature paused long enough to tilt its head at Nazyl with a glowing, blood red stare. And yet something about those eyes and its face was familiar - a hollow echo of someone he once knew. With its long limbs, it stepped right over Nazyl and steadily made its way to the graveyard.

Rolanda rushed to join Nazyl and the others as Aislinn kept her post, her concern growing with every moment that N’yami failed to emerge from the hut. The minutes ticked by until she decided it was time to go after the Seeker. She had just taken a few cautious steps towards the hut’s door when N’yami came bolting out of the house, alerted to the sounds of the fight. Wasting no time, the miqo’te launched herself at the creature with a loud battlecry.

The dark cover of night added a sense of disarray to what was already a chaotic fight. Half the time the band was striking blind and hoping against hope they hit something other than empty air or worse, a comrade. There was an overwhelming sense of gratification when a punch landed solidly or a blade struck dark flesh, causing the creature to howl in pain.

"Shoulda stuck with our gut on this one. I -knew- that Elezen wasn't right." Aislinn muttered as she cocked her gun and stared down the sight, trying to target the dark mass against the shadowy drifts of snow in the night. After a breath and confident in her aim, she pulled back the trigger, firing off a single shot. The sounding report echoed off the mountain walls.

The shot hit a partially wounded limb, knocking it clean off. The writhing shadow howled in pain as a hot, black ooze spurts out from the area, staining the white snow black. The cool ice hisses as the liquid makes contact.

"The hell is this thing?!" Tana exclaimed as she jumped back to avoid the errant limb.

In retaliation, the beast struck out at the nearest person, N’yami, and took her in its iron grip, squeezing with a force that could knock the breath out of a man twice her size. The miqo’te felt the wind knocked out of her with a gasp as the creature tried to crush her. From up close, she could make out the shadow beast’s face. It was covered in a constantly moving, black slime - and every so often - something else peeked out from just underneath.

"Didn't yer mother teach ya to chew yer damn food?" she sputtered.

Nazyl already knew what was happening, the window break and the oddly familiar features...it was just as he feared, "Try not ta kill the thing. Cripple it n' disable it, but don't kill it." the knight shouted, running to the limb that held the Seeker, raising the blade high and cutting down with all his strength.

Nazyl’s swing cut at the beast’s arm, and it loosened its vice grip on Nyami, though it still kept her in hand. It seemed scared, but motivated by a fierce desire to live. With great effort, it splurted two more limbs from its body that hit the ground, wet and hot.

The Plainsfolk glanced around quickly, "Hey, who had that sleep juice?! Mighteh fine time ta use it I'd say!"

"Whackara! Someone has your friend!" N’yami cried out to her carbuncle.

The summoned that stood next to Aislinn slowly turned its head towards the beast, its aetherical fur puffed up in anger and the little ball of light charged in, ripping right through the limb so N'yami could be free from its grasp. The detached hand of the creature dropped to the ground, still clutching the miqo’te, though she could now wiggle free of the limb’s frozen grip.

Aiswyda hurriedly found the sleeping serum - a vial of glowing, blue liquid - deep within her coat pockets. Now she had to find a way to somehow get it IN the beast, with nothing but fists at the ready. She climbed the shadow, ignoring its scream and twisting attempts to shake her off, and felt around for anything that felt like a mouth. She managed to pour half of the liquid in before she lost her grip and fell back into the snow. The glowing vial landed a few fulms away from her and luckily, the remainder of its contents still sloshed around the vial.

With the sleeping draught aided along by a draining spell from Aislinn, the creature’s movements slowed and its glowing red eyes blinked several times, fighting back the urge to rest.

Its limbs shook, and finally gave, as it collapsed into the ground with a great sigh. The dark ooze that covered it jittered uncontrollably, and exploded in every direction as it repelled off of the beast’s core.

Most of the party hit the ground, allowing a majority of the black ooze to fly safely overhead. However, Aislinn and Nazyl failed to react in time, one knocked off the balance by the explosion, the other simply distracted. Black ooze slammed into both of them, coating their clothing and leaving a hot, foul residue behind.

"Lovely." Aislinn sputtered. "That's what I get for not paying attention." she looked down at the ooze dripping down her frame in distaste. As her heavy winter coat heated up to an unbearable degree, she hurriedly shuffled it off, putting some distance between herself and the affected clothing.

Nazyl fell backwards and landed on his rear "GGH! Ugh..."

"Well Nazyl you were complaining about the cold... here is some hot steamy goo to warm yourself with..." Tana gave the Lalafel a sly smile. "Is everyone ok?"

A chorus of confirmations rang out in the dark, though as Aislinn moved closer to the fallen body and the rest of the party, Aiswyda found she had trouble holding back her laughter. "By Llymlaen...is that you Lin? Can hardly tell in the dark and slime."

Aislinn shook her slime-coated head but gave Aiswyda a thumbs up. "Here...and in need of several showers." she called over to the Seawolf in wry amusement.

Though Ifoux’s dark skin made it hard to make out against the black snow, the naked duskwight elezen lay at the center of the explosion, deep asleep. Rolanda’s arrow was still embedded in the man’s back, and several bruises from Tana’s punches decorated his abdomen.

"....What a mess. He's injured." Nazyl said lowly.

N'yami hoisted herself up as her gaze landed on the Elezen. "Oh...he's naked." It finally hit her. "Oh my gods, this man is naked and needs a coat!"

"I think he needs a healer... it seems my punches did good work and... he doesn't look to be a fighter..." Tana noted.

"Would that I could be proud o' harmin' an innocent..." Nazyl retorted.

As Rolanda, Tana and N’yami saw to protecting the naked man from the elements, Nazyl turned his attention to Aiswyda.

"Who gave ye that serum again? This all just screams setup..."

"Ser Papachimo. He pretty much made this mess, and we're the cleanup crew," Aiswyda answered as she peered down at the sleeping elezen.

Nazyl scoffed under his breath. "Man's been aethericalleh altered it seems. Fallin' asleep makes somethin' else take ovah, n' if this is what this Lalafell caused, then I wanna have a chat."

Aislinn slid her gaze to Aiswyda, wondering what Papachimo would think of a chat with Nazyl. Though she blessedly kept her silence.

Aiswyda caught Aislinn's glance and responded with a knowing look. Papachimo had a lot to answer for, and she had a feeling Nazyl was going to lay even more justice into the man.

The lalafell glanced between the two women. "...There ain't anehmore like this, are there?"

"This is supposed to be the last." Aislinn answered Nazyl.

"I see." He paused, glancing at what was going on with the man beside them. The others had pulled a heavy rug from the Elezen’s hut and were currently bundling the injured man up within it, chattering all the while about the make and price of Ishgardian rugs.

Nazyl side eyed the rug-robbers with a sigh. Do they always take personal possessions? Mayhaps he should consider who he goes with in the future... "Bettah late ta the parteh I guess. Then that'll be me next destination. Wherevah that man is."

Aislinn nodded to Nazyl, understanding the lalafell's anger but she had already given Papachimo a piece of her mind on the subject. She looked to the Elezen, now snug in a rolled up rug. Odd...but protected from the elements?

They couldn't very well take the man to the Ishgardians. A shared look between them said they all well-remembered what lay at the bottom of Witchdrop and they had little faith he wouldn't end up joining the dead on the floor of the chasm if they left him in the care of those at Camp Dragonhead.

"We could take him back to the Heartwood estate so Y'ahn and Nys can take a look at him." N’yami stated with a firm nod.

Aislinn couldn’t argue with the logic. "Shall we get him back home?"

N'yami gave a curt nod. "Faster we get him there, the better."

Aiswyda agreed and stood behind the rug as to hide from public view the elezen that was wrapped up within. "What's done is done. Let's get out of this cold."

#ffxiv #ffxiv rp #balmung rp #ffxiv crystal rp #Heartwood plots #Crystal Beasts #Aiswyda Nuthalwyn #N'yami Synch #Nazyl Tharazyl #Rolanda Deschain #Tana Firesong #Aislinn North

5 notes · View notes

ayeshintheclouds · 4 years

Text

3/5

The End: Maison

Once upon a time there was a boy named Maison who lived in a bakery.

See, his mother wasn't very much of a mother. And his father definitely wasn't much of a father. He had a habit of drinking for as long as Maison could remember.

Maison's oldest memories were of shivering under the blankets as footsteps thudded up the stairs, the heavy stench of alcohol burning his throat and stinging his eyes till they watered.

His mother, he only remembered in shadows. A shadow peeking over the corner, a shadow scuttling away at the sound of the first shout.

Sometimes Maison snuck into his mother's bedroom and watched her sleep, comforted by the rise and fall of the blankets that reminded him that she was not in fact shadow, but human. He found it ironic how she seemed more real when she was unconscious than awake, and he thought that said something about a person.

His room in the bakery was the coldest of them all, beyond the reach of any furnace or fireplace, a room chilled from both the snow outside and the desolation inside. It was at the very top of the huge grey building, with enormous walls made of floor to ceiling glass windows. They were beautiful, magnificent, and utterly useless against the cold. Maison sat there for hours on end, drawing and drawing on the frosted panes of glass, only for them to ice up again the next day.

It was maddening. It was comforting.

Nothing lasted forever.

One night, Maison's dad had retched on the ground, and when Maison didn't react, he threatened to send him off to the asylum where the other strange children were sent.

Maison wasn't strange. He liked solitude. And he'd simply never known a person worth breaking his solitude for.

People were avalanches to the small world he'd built for himself in his head, bringing destruction and loudness to disturb the peace. His door was shut. The storms his father unleashed bounced against the iron door protecting the world of his mind. No, the door was locked and would open for no one.

He much preferred windows anyways. Closed like doors, yet allowing him to see through, to observe the world from the very top.

The windows he drew on knew all his secrets and dreams, all the maps he drew to far away places and the creatures that only existed in his mind. It was like whispering secrets to an amnesiac; the next day he'd wake up to find that the windows had forgotten everything, that he'd need to tell them once more, drag his fingers through the ice until they were numb, but it wasn't all just in his head, and that was all that mattered.

After his dad had shouted himself to sleep and the bakery was eerily silent once more, Maison sat in his window, watching the snowflakes float around softly before gently hitting the ground. One particular snowflake he followed all the way to a lump of blankets and scarves that was hobbling across the front of the bakery. Maison squinted, then decided to go downstairs. No one heard socked feet thumping down the stairs. No one saw a boy standing in front of a door, the only thing standing between him and the snowing world outside.

So Maison opened the door. He opened his door, and let the storm in. He let the world in.

And a homeless man.

The man collapsed into a heap of mismatched fabric on the bakery floor as Maison stared at him. Finally, an old weathered face looked up from a blanket, electric blue eyes piercing into his own.

"Who... are you?" Maison asked, wondering what the man was doing out in the snow this late at night and why exactly his own sleep deprived self had felt the compulsion to let a stranger into his house so easily.

The man smiled up at him, and it was a strange sort of smile, as if he knew something Maison didn't. "Just a traveler," he replied, his voice raspy. "homeless like you."

Maison frowned. "I have a house." he gestured to the huge wasteland of gray walls surrounding them.

"Get me some water, boy." he said, and though he was the one on the floor, Maison felt as if the man were looking down upon him. Quickly turning away from his disconcertingly bright eyes, Maison went to the kitchen and filled a glass with water. And on the same bizarre compulsion, he decided at the last minute to heat up some bread as well.

When he returned, the man was seated on a chair at the counter, his patched up coats still bundled over his hunched frame. Maison sat down across from him and watched the man tear at the bread and water ravenously, as if he hadn't eaten for months. Finally, when the man seemed to be finished, Maison repeated, "I have a house."

"Of course."

Maison was thoroughly confused. "But you just said-"

"I said you were homeless. Not houseless." The man stood up. "I really must be on my way."

"Where do you have to go in this weather?"

"Same as you," the man answered, opening the door and letting the chill flood in.

Maison shivered. "I'm not going anywhere."

His mittened hands shook Maison's, and then with a gust of frigid wind, the man had left. Maison blinked.

In his hand was a white ticket for Le Blanche Train Station. There was no train number on it. Le Blanche Station had been abandoned since before his birth, the small platform buried in snow, and the rails dangerously iced most of the year.

Maison turned the ticket. On the back of the ticket were the words, "Find Home."

Something clicked into place in his brain, a missing link suddenly materializing.

Maison bolted to his room, wrote 'goodbye' on the iced windows that had protected his art and sanity for so many years. He kissed his shadow of a mother's cheek, touched his drunkard of a father's hand. They didn't stir.

And then his feet pounded down the stairs one last time. With nothing but extra clothes and some food in his bag, Maison clutched his ticket tightly in his hand and opened his door for once and for all. Feeling like his world was ending, Maison ran and ran and never looked back.

He flew, through the darkness in the sky and the brightness on the ground, until he stood on the abandoned platform, up till his knees in snow. The strong wind bitterly stung his nose and cheeks as he stood there panting, feeling absolutely ridiculous yet so right.

The snowflakes were no longer gently floating like he'd seen them from his room. They danced around him in a wild frenzy now, almost teasing him, taunting him. Look at you. Abandoned everything for a homeless man's deranged prophecies.

The man had been right though. What was a house with a shadow mother and a wasted father? It wasn't a home for sure. And neither would be the mental institution they'd send him off to.

So Maison stood there for hours and hours. Time seemed to stand still and the sun never rose, yet the dark sky seemed to be leached of color, blotted white so slowly he didn't realize it was happening until it already had. The blizzard only escalated until all he could see was blinding whiteness. He didn't know where the sky met the ground anymore, wasn't certain that he hadn't just lost his eyesight. Perhaps the traveler had cast a spell on him, like the magical creatures he drew on his walls.

The air only grew colder and colder. A world made of snow and ice with a heart to match. Maybe the rest of the world could finally feel the freeze he'd carried in his soul for so long.

The frost seeped into his bones, spreading through his limbs like poison until he was nothing but coldness, a boy made of ice and snow. His train of ice had arrived. And he stepped on, the merciless wind devouring him, swallowing him, consuming him, until like the sky, he too faded into whiteness.

2 notes · View notes

bee-kathony · 6 years

Text

Four Years | June 13th, 2014

January 2nd, 2014 - February 15th, 2014 - March 8th, 2014 - April 12th, 2014 - May 2nd, 2014

a/n: thank you to @acidkydd for helping me with medical terms as always!

Year One - June 13th, 2014

My first round of chemo went exactly how I expected. When I got home, after spending the past 2 hours getting the drug ‘Temozolomide’ injected into my system, I immediately threw up. And I didn’t make it to the toilet.

I stood there in the middle of the living room while Jamie tried to reassure me that it was okay. He cleaned up after me and then helped strip me of my vomit covered clothes. I laid in bed with a bucket beside me for the next 26 hours, only getting up when I needed to use the bathroom for anything more than to vomit.

Food wasn’t an option, nothing would stay down but Jamie had received explicit instructions that he’d written down and kept on the nightstand, to keep me hydrated during this process. He woke me periodically in my crazed state of sleeping to make me drink water.

After the first few days it got better and I began to feel more like myself. Amelia told me that we would do my chemo in two week cycles so that meant my next treatment was tomorrow.

My hair was already falling out, not in chunks yet, thank God but I still found hair everywhere around the house. Jamie didn’t voice this but I knew he was not looking forward to the day when I would shave my head; which was today.

“I’ve got the scissors here, we’ll cut most of it off first and then I’ve got the razor here,” Geillis held up the razor so I could see it in the reflection of the mirror. I said I wanted to watch, a final goodbye to my curls that had always been a part of me. It would grow back, Beauchamp.

Yeah, if you live long enough…

Jamie was sitting in the living room or rather he was pacing in the living room. He told me he would be there for me if I needed him but he’d rather not watch. I promised I would tell him when it was over and the hair was put in the bin so that he could come and see my new look.

“Jamie, you might want to play some loud music so ye dinna hear the sound of the razor ye ken,” Geillis shouted to him and there was no word from him but one minute later the familiar sound of “Coldplay” was blaring through the speakers.

Geillis put her hands on top of my shoulders and met my eye in the mirror, “Are ye ready, Claire?”

“I don’t know when I’ll ever be ready but I suppose we should get it over with.” I bit my bottom lip to hold back my emotions. She picked up the scissors and I almost jumped when I heard the first ‘snip’ and chunks of my hair began to fall on the bathroom floor.

I hadn’t cried the entire time that she cut my hair and I sat stoned faced looking at the reflection as she turned on the razor and started to shave the rest of my hair.

“Jamie!” Geillis shouted, sliding the razor and scissors in the drawer and tying up the bag full of my hair. “Ye can come and take a look at yer Sassenach.”

I held my breath and my heart rate quickened when I heard the music shut off abruptly. His footsteps echoed down the hall. When I saw the look on his face, then I cried.

He didn’t say anything but walked forward and bent down, placing a gentle kiss on the top of my peach fuzzed head. I felt wet drops on my head and knew he was crying too. Reaching behind me, I grabbed his hand and squeezed it as tight as I could. Jamie wrapped one arm around me and the chair and kissed my temple.

“You are beautiful, Claire. My God, ye are so beautiful.” That made me cry even more because what I felt was exactly the opposite of beautiful. I felt hideous, weak and I feared that this would break me.

++++++

The next day we drove up to the hospital, once a place that I loved, my second home. Now it was a place I dreaded, to be poked and prodded. I was on the other side of the needle and I didn’t like it one bit.

Joe greeted us as he always did and gave me a hug, not commenting on the scarf I had wrapped on top of my head. What a good friend.

“You look good Lady J, I know you probably don’t feel it.” Jamie held my hand as Joe held my other. We walked down the hall and he told me about a particularly tricky operation he had performed the other day on a child that had swallowed a plastic toy car. He was trying to keep a sense of normalcy in our conversations which I was grateful for but it was also hard to hear him talk about operating when I hadn’t been able to in months.

Would I want to return to medicine after all of this was over?

He parted ways with us when we reached the treatment room. I waved hello to a few people that I had met on my last visit and got choked up when I noticed that there was one less person in here than the last time. Only two weeks had passed, life was never certain.

“I brought the blanket in case ye get cold like last time, Sassenach,” Jamie held up the bag we packed and I saw the corner of the fluffy blanket that we kept on the couch.

“Maybe later,” I smiled, “I’m too hot right now.”

He nodded and took a seat next to me and watched as the nurse came over to us and began to sterilise my skin. I watched as the needle went into my arm, not even flinching as it broke the skin. Jamie on the other hand hissed through his teeth and had to look away. He once told me he couldn’t bear to see me in pain. Well… I couldn’t bear it either.

An hour later and I was shivering. “The blanket,” my teeth chattered together, “Jamie, please.”

He put down his book, reached into the bag and pulled out the fluffy blanket, wrapping it snuggly around my body. Jamie held the tips of my fingers, his eyes checking for anymore signs of discomfort.

Once I had stopped shaking, only a slight shiver every now and then, I squeezed Jamie’s hand and he kissed my hand.

“You never did tell me about your accident,” I motioned to his back, “I need something else to focus on.” I grimaced at the bruised feeling on the needle’s entrance.

“Have I no’? I suppose something must have come up,” he quirked up the side of his mouth and then took a deep breath, preparing to tell me.

“It was a plane crash.” He squeezed my hand when I gasped at his confession, “I was on a fairly small plane, no more than forty seats, coming back from a trip in Paris to visit my Uncle Jared.”

“Must of been what, nearly six years ago now, no’ even nineteen years old. There was a storm,” the look in his eyes told me that he was now reliving the crash, “I don’t remember much but I remember the plane going down.”

“I remember the rain hitting against me, soaking me through to the bone and my back —,” he winced, as if his shirt was too tight, “I must have been dragged when we hit the ground, my back… as ye’ve seen,” he blushed then remembering our first encounter.

“How long did it take to recover?” I asked.

“Och, I spent about a month in the hospital, mostly laying on my stomach while the wounds healed. I’d broken my arm as well,” I slid my hand up to stroke his arm.

“Still pains me some days but no’ as much as it used to.”

“I’m so sorry, Jamie. I wish I could’ve been there for you. To heal you.” I was a doctor and my first instinct was to help, to use my hands to heal. That’s why it bothered me so much that I could not even heal myself.

“I would’ve liked that very much.” Jamie smiled, returning to the present, “You’re a good woman, Claire, wi’ a good touch.”

“The healing touch only extends to others, I’m afraid.” Sighing I leaned back in the chair and looked at the clock on the wall, only twenty minutes left.

++++++

June 15th, 2014

2:34am

Claire was shaking in the bed beside me. I turned on the lamp to look at her, she was covered in sweat but when my fingers pressed against her, she was as cold as ice.

“Claire, please,” I gently tried to wake her, “Sassenach, yer scaring me.”

Her eyes opened and she gasped, sucking in a breath so quick, it startled me. I knelt down on the bed beside her, “Sassenach, ye dinna look so good, what do ye need.”

“Ice,” she whispered.

“Ice? But ye’re freezing, I’ll no’ make ye colder.”

“I’m so warm, Jamie.” I touched her skin again and it was suddenly burning up. Her temperature had changed in only a matter of seconds. I knew this was one of the side effects but I didn’t really believe it.

“Dinna move, I’ll get ye the ice.” I stood and left her shivering on the bed, anxiously running to the kitchen to grab as much ice as I could put into a bucket.

I lifted one ice cube and placed it on the back of her neck, watching as it started to instantly melt against her flushed skin. “My God, Sassenach.”

Rubbing ice cube after ice cube on her furnace of a body, my fingers slowly went numb but I didn’t care. She needed me.

#four years #fanfic #jamie x claire #mclairefras #jamie fraser #claire fraser #claire beauchamp #geillis duncan #june 13 2014 #june 13 is my bday holler #sorry for your feelings #i really am #outlander fanfic

243 notes · View notes

magicalsalamander · 6 years

Text

Kitten’s Little Flame Part 2

Pairing: BTS Suga/Yoongi (Dragon hybrid au) x Reader (Cat hybrid)

Genre: Fluff, slight angst, eventual smut, hybrid, college, best friends to lovers, roommate

Word count: 3.18K

Summary: “He’s the calming cool you seek in the Summer, but a comforting warmth in the Winter.” Yoongi and you are in university now and even roommates, can you stay best friends or will it bloom into something more?

A/N: Well.. per request I continued with another part! I hope I don’t disappoint you.I feel that this may be a slow burn to get to the point. I want to build it up with tension and blatant oblivious characters.Again, this is my first time writing something, so I hope you enjoy it! Also I hope you cringe only slightly with the cliches. Thank you for taking your time out though! :) Forgive me for my grammatical mistakes.. Thank you @ratedtae for making this wonderful moodboard!

Part 1, Part 3, Part 4 (M), Part 5 (M), Epilogue (M) [Will be linked when issue is fixed, please access blog for mstlist]

Two plumes of white smoke rose out of his nose, swirling and intertwining with the frigid air that blanketed this Winter night. For him the seasons change was nothing, he held an orange marmalade tinted flame within him that was constantly lit and provided a furnace that made him run hot. A walking fireplace that provides a warmth that is felt only by few. He stuffed his hands in his university hoodie pocket as he walked down the snow-covered street. Snow was falling lightly from the starless night and melted instantly once it touched Yoongi’s face, so he buried himself even further into his hoodie to avoid the moisture. The snow littering the sidewalk reflected greens, reds, and blues from the neon lights of shops that were open. Whiffs of peppermint and different dinners along the main street coursed through as people opened various shops doors.

He was returning from campus after submitting his last final of the semester. Music has always been his passion and now he is working towards a professional degree in Recording and Composing. His last final was for his advance music production class and it was a project that was months of work. He can remember the countless nights he spent writing and rewriting his compositions. The countless nights he spent in the studios on campus for students in the Music department. His final was late in the afternoon and he had to submit all his paperwork and a USB of the actual recording of the final project to his professor.

The buzzing of the neon lights, the bustling of people going home from their nine to five, and honking of the traffic reminded him of how much time he had spent indoors these past four months. The occasional shop he passed by rang with holiday tunes. He looked across the street and saw the café that you and Yoongi along with the rest of the gang frequented when you all had time and weren’t drowning in school work. This was your third year in University and it was about an hour from your guys hometown. The group you’ve grown up with since you all were kids made it to University. The eight of you, all different types of hybrids, were striving for success on different paths. The eight of you were all different ages besides species, but you balanced each other out much like fibers coming together to create a single thread.

Yoongi pulled his smart phone out of his jean pants pocket and pulled down his hood to look for your contact. He scrolled through his phone to bring up his recent conversation with you finding your contact saved under the name “Kitty”, and pressed the green button to call you. He knew you were already home since today was also your last day for finals and how stressed you’ve been with your classes this semester. To add icing to the cake you had a professor who was less than qualified to teach a class that was detrimental to you getting into your nursing program. He waited as the dial tone went through, but after a minute of waiting you still weren’t picking up and it went to voicemail. He sighed and hung up, and another stack of hot steam made its way out his mouth. It wasn’t unusual for you to not answer his phone, despite the man times of him scolding you for not picking up or responding timely. It irked him to his core when you didn’t answer his call, who knew if something could happen to you when he wasn’t there. He ran his hand through his hair and stuffed his phone back into his pocket grumbling your name. He knew you probably haven’t eaten today because of your anxiety before exams makes you ignore basic needs. At some point he was sure you were probably part avian for how little you ate in general. He decided to make a safe bet and get you food by walking into the café, determined to get home as fast as he could.

The plastic bag with two trays of your guys usual swung back and forth in his hand, as Yoongi speed walked his way home. The longer he waited for the take out to be served the more he thought about you possibly not being okay. He knew he was probably overthinking and protective, but it was his Kitty that we’re talking about. Waiting in a booth his leg started to bounce in impatience as he waited and glared at the receipt as if that would speed up the process any faster. As soon as his name was called he stood up abruptly with his tail swinging impatiently behind him, he snagged the bag and thanked the waitress curtly. He didn’t want to be rude, but when it came to your safety he could throw everything out the window. The sound of snow crunching under his Chelsea boots carried him all the way to the shared apartment complex that was about a 15-minute walk from the campus. He entered the elevator leading to the 5th floor of the complex and made his way over to apartment 512.

Winter, the season you weren’t about to gather anyone who would listen and rant and rave about it. No, it was the season you didn’t enjoy for a simple reason, you didn’t like the cold. The bitter cold stings and seeps into your bones and it always feels like needles prickling your skin. It only made it worse that you were alone in your apartment, bundled up in layers of shirts and leggings under sweat pants, a hoodie and pizza printed socks. You had your hood up and encompassing your head with the strings pulled so you only had a small outlet to watch the TV with. You also had your comforter with you on the couch to keep you extra warm. The occasional shiver racks through your body as you watch the reporter on TV report the weather is only going to get colder in the next few days. The news causes you to curl in more on yourself searching for any more potential heat. The effect of the hot coco you had earlier has worn off a while ago and so now you were relying on your own little cocoon to keep you warm. To add further to your situation, the adrenaline was finally wearing off and you were feeling exhausted after the stress of the past weeks.

You heard your phone ring in the familiar ringtone letting you know Yoongi was calling you. You groan in protest not wanting to answer the phone because that would require you to move. As any grown adult would you decided not to answer it, refusing to breech your little cocoon. You whimper because you miss your portable heater, for more than the simple reason of him being a literal flame. Finals have been so chaotic that you’ve both barely seen each other, despite living together. Your rooms are literally right across from one another. This semester you’ve been stuck with a morning schedule mostly and you’ve spent the majority of your time in the library to use all the figures and displays they have to help study for your Anatomy final. Honestly, besides the heat the Yoongi provided physically, your cheeks always warm up as well when Yoongi is near. The guy does something to your heart that has it doing summer saults. Yoongi has been cooped up in the studio as well, so the only time you get to run into one another is the time when Yoongi is making his way out of the apartment and you’re just coming back from the Library. At those times all you get to ask your best friend is how he’s doing and if the project is going well, before he’s off to finish his project and you to cram more at home.

Twenty minutes later Yoongi’s punching in the key code and rushing in from the outside with a plastic bag rustling as he makes his way through the door. He slips off his shoes and lazily tosses his backpack around near the entrance. “Y/N?” he calls out to you with a bit of frustration in his tone, checking if you’re are home. “Hmmmh”, you mumble from underneath your little fort and turn to look towards the entrance of the shared apartment. He sets the bag of take out on the kitchen counter and walks into the living room to finally fully take in your little arrangement. He scoffs a bit and smirks at how cute you look all bundled up as if the apocalypse is upon the horizon. He honestly wanted to scold you on the spot with his mouth agape ready to spill, but how can he when you’re in your given state. The scowl on his face softens a bit before he strides over to you and he sits down next to you and says, “I called and texted you asking if you wanted something to eat, but since you didn’t answer me…well I guess I’ll have to enjoy it all on my own.” You peek through your little hoodie hole at Yoongi and decided to slip it off to express to with the biggest smile you could to show how “pitiful” you were. By pulling back the hoodie you exposed a messy bun and makeup less face, a result of not caring about appearance today. You pull your best pus-in-boots eyes with your ears pulled back and to add to the grand effect you unfurl your tail from around your waist and stroke it innocently and sweetly remark, “you wouldn’t do that to me Yoongi, that would be inhumane.” You look up at look up through your lashes at Yoongi and move to curl into his side. He knew you were going to say that exact phrase, but when you pulled that face you knew would instantly melt him, he completely softens. You shiver because the cold has hit your neck, but smile because Yoongi feels like Summer. He stiffens for a second but then relaxes instantly when you curl up next to him. You inhale his scent and he smells like freshly pressed espresso and a bit like a campfire.

He’s the calming cool you seek in the Summer, but a comforting warmth in the Winter.

Normally, other hybrids would have not dared to even touch Yoongi because of his hard and cold exterior, but you’re the only one who’s able to do this with him. The rest of the group only can go so far with Yoongi, but he still protects them if someone dares to test any of them. Being your best friend for over a decade, he has learned how to let your simple actions of affection become the normalcy. He’s so used to you being affectionate towards him, but still his heart skips a beat when you reach out to him. Yoongi knows you like the back of his hand, he feels you shiver and questions, “is it really that cold?” You burry your face further into his shoulder and nod, mumbling something about your toes feeling frozen and will break upon mere contact. Your ears tickle his neck and he stifles a laugh at your pitiful act. He scratches your ears and instantly you purr in content. You feel at complete ease and slowly heat up with your dragon being your fireplace.

He lets you snuggle into his side for five minutes before he interrupts your comfort with “Hey popsicle, the food is going to get cold.” You grumble about not wanting to move, but Yoongi having hunger drive him he has to peel you off of him (despite every instinct internally telling him to pull you in closer) and walks to the kitchen. He brings the takeout to the living room and sets it on the coffee table and pulls out your tray and hands it to you. You open the tray and instantly light up and snag a plastic fork form the plastic bag. You take a bite and hum in content and do a little shoulder dance in happiness. Yoongi laughs at the sight and starts helping himself to his tray. He picks up the remote control and starts scrolling through the guide to look for a movie you both can tolerate. You ask each other in between bites about how each other’s finals went, and both eliciting a responding with “I’m just glad it’s over with.” Yoongi finds a movie that you both wouldn’t mind and fall into this lull of comfort of just being with each other. You scoot closer to Yoongi as you finished all the food in your tray and set it down on the coffee table empty. You lay your head on Yoongi’s shoulder and thank him for the meal. He only grunts in response, afraid if he turns his head to look down at you your faces will be closer than appropriate.

Half way through the movie, Yoongi has his arm around your shoulders bringing you into an embrace and you moved half your comforter over his legs to share the blanket. Yoongi’s breathing has evened out after some time and it’s become shallow as you feel the slow rise of his chest against your side. You tilt your head so you can look up at Yoongi to see if he’s actually asleep. It’s an instantly confirmation as his eyes are closed and his head slightly bobbing back and forth. You smile softly knowing he must’ve missed hours of sleep and his body is done fighting instinct to sleep. You stare at his face and observe his features. Since you’ve first meet Yoongi he’s always had his black hair and horns that adorn his forehead. Although when he was younger they weren’t more than an inch in length, now they’ve grown and curve back about seven inches. He’s always been handsome, but now as an adult he’s grown into his features adorned with a sharp jawline.

Confusion clouds your heart though, you’re not sure if Yoongi treats you as just a sister/best friend, or as a potential love interest. You can’t believe that a man this attractive and accomplished could ever like you. You’re just a plain jane, an average house cat. You heart hurts knowing that Yoongi would never look at you the way you do to him. You’ve seen the girls that chase after Yoongi since elementary school, but he always pushed them away. You know he cares more about his passion than chasing tails, at least that’s what he said when Taehyung asked him after the most popular girl in school gave him a love letter and rejected her.

You’re no delicate flower; at least since you started hanging around the guys, you’ve learned how to defend yourself physically and mentally and not take anything from anyone. As a cat hybrid there’s the stereotypes of cats being a snarky, standoffish and overall cruel. However, you break those stereotypes and really care about the wellbeing of others and even want to pursue a career as a nurse. Although you aren’t the most extroverted being out there like, you still like your time to yourself to be with yourself. That being said you don’t lack confidence with yourself, but you feel like you don’t deserve someone as amazing as Yoongi.

In kindergarten when Yoongi saved you once by pushing away a dog hybrid that was trying to bully you and cornered you on the playground, you became best friends. He pointed to the kid and told him to never to mess with what’s his in a low growl. At the time you were so shocked because Yoongi never talked to you directly besides that one time, but he was always hanging around the same circle of friends. Taehyung, Hoseok and Jimin, a panther hybrid, were only a second late coming behind Yoongi as he declared a threat and seeing the other hybrid book it with his tail between his legs. They picked you up off the ground and asked if you were okay inspecting for any damage. You nodded and looked up at Yoongi to mutter “Thank you” with a bright smile. After that day you would approach Yoongi and even offer him a part of your lunch box your mom would pack. The best friendship wasn’t instant but Yoongi came to keep you near as you would follow him around. You grew even closer in middle school when your parents finally left their office jobs after saving enough money and opening their own record store. Yoongi’s passion and interest for music grew after your dad showed him all the classics in the shop, and your mom introducing him to notorious rappers. Your mom may look like a sweet woman, but she enjoys her hardcore music. He would show up at the shop with the others when you were just sitting around on the weekends working on homework in the back. You both would just listen to tunes and try to recommend new artists when you ran across them. Eventually as you grew older you met new friends a few grades up of yours, a wolf hybrid named Namjoon and he brought in Seokjin, a brown bear hybrid. As you were a junior in high school a bunny hybrid named Jungkook, younger than all of you, came into the group through Jimin. The eight of you stuck together and became inseparable.

You got lost in studying Yoongi’s face that you failed to notice him getting closer to you. The bobbing of his head finally fell forward and landed with your foreheads meeting. His soft, warm breath tickles your face while your noses brushes against each others. Your cheeks instantly redden and panic sets in, you don’t know whether to move away or stay. Your breath tickles Yoongi’s face and he slowly opens his eyes and meet yours. He takes a second to just look into your eyes, Y/e/c irises sparkle with reflections of light from the TV. His widen a second later realized that this is real, he’s face to face with his Kitty. He backs away and coughs to cover up his pinking cheeks to pull of an act of nonchalance. You stand up abruptly and gather your blanket, you take one glance at Yoongi before stating shakily, “I’m..I’m going to go to sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow Yoongi.” Before he can even reply you’re already in your room shutting the door behind you.

Yoongi sits on the couch speechless, everything happened so fast, but at the same time nothing happened. His heart is beating in his chest so hard and fast that he feels the embers in his furnace creeping up his throat giving him a butterfly feeling. He leans back on the couch with his forearm over his eyes and sighs. He can’t help it anymore, he can’t deny that he just wants to protect you as his best friend.

What does this mean for you both now?

2K notes · View notes

aaronbyron · 3 years

Text

It was three hours later when the little man finally crept back up on deck to empty his bladder.

Last year, he founded a nonprofit called the Salinas Valley Elite Running Club, where civic minded runners get together to hold fundraising running events for local causes. It was three hours later when the little man finally crept back up on deck to empty his bladder. She makes sure every veteran in the medical center is taken care of, even with the small necessities you might not notice. Her father, who died when she was a baby, worked shining shoes and her mother supported the family by working as a maid. IT NEED THAT KIND OF MENTALITY. Then he took me, made me stand beside him, began stroking my head, and asked me whether I had learnt anything and what I knew. This was because I just got done telling them, smučarski kombinezon hlače "no phones and no cameras," then took the photo. Additionally, the bold tone is enhanced with a slight washed out effect to further add character to its aesthetic. Griff rode up the throat on a white courser beside Homeless Harry Strickland. In the second screenshot comparison above we can again see the better AA quality that the ABIT 9800XT exhibits. Not only as an ice breaker, but also as an understated plea for direction and advice. Ghost knows that Grey Wind is dead. “Did that wretch break the skin?” Jon asked.. He didn do anything wrong.wasn aware of it until I got to the sideline, he said. She could see why. As ugly as his bones. When permitted, some of our negroes preached with great fluency. I also like to place my ladder where I can use a pipe or flue to grasp if biciclete pret I'm unsteady. But this year, that didn't happen enough. The directions which Paul gives to Christian masters and servants sufficiently show what a redeeming change gioco cubo di rubik amazon had passed over the institution. The kids can sleep at night. Winslett became very comfortable throwing to Collis all of last summer, thinking he would be his main target all season. But I see no reason why, if the University wanted to make a commitment to lacrosse, they could not replicate the success of a place like Duke. Papa would drive 100 miles an hour in the body less hearse. I remember that she made the sign of the cross over him, kissed him, and hiding her face in her hands rushed back into the fehér női bőr csizma room. Walking through Albany Bulb, a former landfill that several local conservation organizations transformed into a recreational area, feels a little like what it criminal szoknya must be like to walk through the wetlands from "Mad Max." That is, if said wetlands had been previously occupied by Burner types who left sculptures everywhere. He was serving as a combat engineer in the Guard before his discharge for performance, said Lt. The adults abruptly stopped, swayed back and forth, showed their teeth and growled but eventually backed off. Mossador and Marselen had not been so fortunate. The Yaya Toure case will be one of my first missions. The girls were put into a large room alone, in total darkness, without bed or blanket, where they spent the night in sobs and tears, in utter ignorance of their brothers’ fate. "I pushed the Switchgrass Cultivation Act through because Steve had told me he was in a tough spot and I wanted to help out a friend," said Schilling, referring to the highly unpopular bill that Fischer had claimed his industry desperately needed. After two years, the wait is finally over, as Mens ADIDAS ORIGINALS Nissan has dropped in a new 2.0 litre diesel to attract those who previously overlooked the X Trail.Nissan's execs won't admit this but the engine addition is also a direct response to Skoda launching its new Kodiaq, which offers a more diverse engine range and up to 187bhp on top diesel variants. Any shoes will work for this costume, however, sandals would look best. "I knew I had to change my body position, and that's what pantofi sport tip soseta damastarted first the revolution, and over the next two years, the evolution," Fosbury said. I am living proof that walking works. Jon twisted from the knife, just enough so it barely grazed his skin. Theon drew the dagger. Almost everywhere they landed, the Nike investors have helped raise wages and living standards, even as they have prompted complaints about worker exploitation and environmental degradation.. In the meek and submissive haste of

pantaloni elisabetta franchi saldi

the poor decrepit old man there was so much to provoke compassion, so much to wring the heart, that the whole company, from Adam Ivanitch downward, took a different view of the position at once. He took another gulp. Its too bad because it performs so good and EVGA customer support has been pretty good so far though.My 1080 Strix has now crashed a couple of times when in overclock mode, which is also pretty disappointing. 200,000, SHE APPRECIATES IT JUST AS MUCH. On more than one occasion I lodged a complaint with the Chief Minister. In 1818 the Assembly states that the most virtuous portion of the community in slave states abhor slavery, and wish its extermination. If functional and beautiful streamlined leather goods are your thing, check out AW by Andrea Wong. Michael E. The sun was hot this morning, the sky blue and cloudless. "I hope not to have to find that out," Caldwell said today at the NFL combine. We need to watch for flash flooding as storms could dump 2 3 inches of

зимни обувки adidas 2016

rain in a short time. 18 and provide $3.65 billion to help communities recover from this year's earthquake, hurricanes, floods, tornadoes, storms and wildfires. And the 16 year old has been twisting for a couple of months now along with her classmates in the Success Class at Bendix School, the alternative high school for the South Bend Community School Corp.. Holden Caulfield the main character is a teenager who's expelled from the private school and is afraid to come back home because he is afraid of the reaction of his parents. It was clear in the final hours of the congress that delegates were looking for creative language to finesse irreconcilable views and buy another year until the next major conclave in Durban, South Africa.. Growth in the commercial vehicle telematics market is driven by the following factors. Gulltown stayed loyal to the throne, though. That will kick up the wind and begin to usher in the much

folie samsung j6 2018 pt tot telegonil

colder air that is on the way for the week ahead.. But I didn’t get married. But I have not done it, for so far she has behaved reasonably. Remember to remove the furnace fats, which is especially, important in case of oil fired furnaces, and clean the air conditioning system as far as you can. Call me crazy,but an entire team can't really be based off one player. The refuge is home to an incredible diversity of waterbirds, plus nesting bald eagles and ospreys, strutting turkeys, great horned owls, songbirds, moose, and black bears. Under such conditions, several film figures were arrested. By matching ad clicks with this data, Google says it can automatically inform merchants when their digital ads translate into sales at a brick and mortar store. Opera, Irish Tunes and Other MusicMore than a dozen continuing education music classes are scheduled by Liberal Studies and the Arts. ISBN 978 1 100 54369 7.Brochure text. Then we walked the boardwalk. He has made 14 starts without taking a loss.

0 notes

possibilistfanfiction · 6 years

Text

stardust brought to life (we have only just begun)

[museum au part 1/2—lexa works at the museum of natural history & clarke works at the hayden planetarium. lexa’s seen some shit but yknow they get to fall in love, all that jazz. v hap, v gay]

stardust brought to life (we have only just begun)

what we do know, and what we can assert without further hesitation, is that the universe had a beginning. the universe continues to evolve. and yes, every one of our body’s atoms is traceable to the big bang and to the thermonuclear furnaces within high-mass stars that exploded more than five billion years ago.

– neil degrasse tyson, astrophysics for people in a hurry

your shoulder still aches.

you try not to think about that, though, especially right now, because it’s the first snow of the year and it’s beautiful, and clarke waves to you, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold. it almost knocks you off your feet, how pretty she is, so you casually lean against the railing so you don’t fall down the stairs.

‘hey lex,’ she says, settling next to you, seemingly happy to stand on the stairs instead of heading to the planetarium where she’s supposed to be.

‘good morning, clarke.’

‘always so formal,’ she says, then tugs on your arm lightly before starting up the stairs. ‘octavia is in the café today, let’s get coffee for free before kane is here and can tell us not to.’

‘clarke—’

she rolls her eyes, tugs on your hand. ‘you can get hot chocolate or tea or whatever if you’re still on your insane kick to give up caffeine.’

‘that’s not—’

she stops and turns toward you, glaring. it’s soft, though, made softer by her tone: ‘it’s the first snow, lexa. live a little.’

you sigh and scuff your boot on the marble stairs once, then nod. ‘whatever. fine.’

clarke laughs and takes off again.

your stomach hurts sometimes too, aches all the way into your chest, into your shoulder, but you try not to think about that either. you think about the size of the universe instead, about how last year there were 23,237 recorded live trees in maine.

clarke doesn’t let go of your hand all the way to the fourth floor, and it maybe hurts a little less.

you’re trying to eat your pizza slowly, but you’re sweaty and starving and your hands are barely warming up from the cold but you don’t really care. anya had convinced you to join this stupid intermural hockey league this year—‘you can’t keep making excuses, alexandria, for the things you still love,’ and for a moment you were sure you weren’t talking about hockey’—and you’d wanted to get in a fight right then and there earlier when you’d seen clarke and raven and octavia cheering on the bleachers.

anya had laughed when you’d checked her into the boards, especially because you were on the same team, but the game is over now and you’re at a pizza place near the park that clarke had suggested, and she’s drinking wine and laughing and she’d convinced you to have some too.

you all walk to the subway together, and clarke doesn’t hesitate for a moment before giving you a long, warm hug, the same as always, even though you’re sweaty and probably smell terrible.

you have the impulse to kiss her cheek but you don’t, and when you’re icing your shoulder later that evening with anya, passing a bottle of bourbon back and forth while you watch reruns of game of thrones, she laughs a little when you smile at your phone.

‘is that clarke?’

you debate lying, but you’re really bad at it and you’re also drunk, so there’s no point. ‘yeah.’

‘she’s hot.’

you sigh and anya grins.

‘keep showing her those big hockey muscles,’ anya says, and you roll your eyes when she flexes, ‘and i’m sure she’ll reciprocate.’

‘fuck off.’

‘unbutton that polo every once in a while, lex.’

‘suck my dick, anya.’

she takes a swig of the bourbon and then hands it to you. ‘just take your shirt off during one of those sleepovers you chaperone.’

you cough on your mouthful of alcohol, and it burns all the way down your throat. ‘there are children there.’

anya just laughs, delighted, while you sulk, trying not to cough more.

‘you have abs, lexa, children or not.’

your cheeks burn and you try not to smile. you don’t let her have any more of your bourbon that night.

raven invites you to a post-finals party. you think it could either be the best or worst idea you’ve ever had, willfully allowing yourself to get drunk around clarke, who will also be getting drunk, but you really do try to act your age every now and again.

apparently, you’re having this party at clarke’s parents’ apartment, because they’re out of town for a conference her dad is presenting at. as you walk with raven, she tells you all about his work in robotics, because they’re friends, you guess? she keeps rubbing at her hip as you walk and you fish around in your backpack and find your trusty bottle of advil, offer her two without a word. she takes them without pausing, throws them back and swallows them without any water or anything, and then just keeps talking about stem cells and nanorobotics and she’s let you talk her ear off about endemic plant species in south africa, so you smile into your scarf all the way down park avenue.

clarke’s parents’ apartment is huge, as far as you’re concerned. you grew up in a little house in a little town on the coast of maine, and you didn’t want for anything—you’d had your tide pools and hockey skates and books, a pretty girl you loved and your uncle who would let you walk to the top of the light house with him at night.

but this is something altogether entirely, and you feel a little out of place in your sweater that has a hole in the sleeve and the same boots you wear everyday to work in the winter. raven doesn’t seem to care at all, though, and clarke skids in from the kitchen wearing a t-shirt (a very tight, lowcut t-shirt that leaves very little to the imagination) and jeans, wool socks with little penguins on them, and she hugs you both at the same time, groaning when octavia changes the music blaring to bodak yellow because ‘i love this song too, guys, but it’s not even 9 and this is the sixth time they’ve put this on.’

clarke takes one look at the little bundt cake you’d brought—you’d made it in your dorm kitchen, it’s full of quinoa and pumpkin and you’d bought real powdered sugar over the top—and seems to kind of melt.

raven laughs. ‘griffin, how drunk are you already?’

clarke shrugs, tugging you both with her to the kitchen where lincoln smiles, so handsome, as he mixes drinks while octavia sits on the counter, swinging their legs and rapping every word to bodak yellow.

‘my parents took me to brunch before they flew out,’ clarke starts to explain.

‘and then we just kept goin,’ octavia says, turning to you with a grin. lincoln seems far more sober, but you think he might just be better at faking it.

‘well i guess we better catch up,’ raven says, and clarke and octavia cheer, handing you both a shot.

it feels like a bad idea, but it also feels like a really good one.

clarke’s parents’ apartment has a rooftop garden, and it affords you an entire view of central park and the rest of the city, which you discover because clarke takes you there later, when the place is packed and you’re pretty sure you’ve heard bodak at least twelve times. you know you could call anya if you wanted to go home, but clarke is smiling and you should be cold, because it’s supposed to snow and it’s windy, but you’re warm.

‘anyway, okay, so like, yes, i want to be a surgeon,’ she explains, ‘but also we’re so young, you know, and i want to spend time with my friends and not have my mother breathing down my neck before residency in a billion years, because she’ll probably rig it so that i get matched with her program.’

‘it is one of the best in the country,’ you say, taking a sip of your beer. ‘you said so yourself.’

clarke leans close with a fond huff. ‘you’re supposed to be on my side, lexa.’

you laugh, and the motion brings you close to clarke, closer than you’d really meant to be. you swallow, suddenly far colder and more sober than you’d been seconds ago.

clarke’s eyes dart to your lips, and then your eyes, and then your lips again.

the wind whips your hair around your faces and you credit that for the tears in your eyes as you lean forward and kiss her.

you know that the moon is 1/4000th the size of the sun, but that the moon is 4000 times closer to the earth than the sun, which allows everyone on earth to see them as relatively the same size. it’s the only place in our solar system that this happens, and you think about this as you kiss clarke in the dead of winter, the stars pulled down into streetlamps and headlights.

the city, usually so loud, quiets.

you kiss her for a long time, until one of your sniffles snot from being so cold and the other laughs and she leads you back into her parents’ apartment. the party is winding down and you’re getting sleepy and when people start to leave and she invites you to stay the night, you want to say no but then you think of how tired you are and how much you want to be held.

she leads you to her old room, which is full of paintings and sketches and polariods, certificates of awards for a variety of academic achievements, a letterman jacket from her highschool still slung over her desk chair.

you run your fingers over it as she goes shuffles through her drawer for pajamas for you. ‘what’d you letter in?’

she laughs. ‘chess. i was nationally ranked, actually.’

‘wow,’ you say, delighted. ‘that’s—‘

‘—nerdy, i know.’

‘no,’ you say. ‘i was going to say impressive.’

‘sure, sure,’ she says, laughing. she turns and hands you pajamas and you want to ask, maybe, how she can sense you don’t want to have sex, because you’d just kissed her for at least twenty minutes on a rooftop in manhattan and most people would probably get some mixed messages from that.

you’re so drunk you don’t really care about going into a bathroom or whatever at this point to change, because you’re pretty sure clarke doesn’t care at all, so you start to take your pants off while clarke changes too. ‘did you letter in anything?’

‘hockey,’ you say.

‘right,’ clarke says, slightly muffled by her shirt. ‘makes sense.’

‘do not tell anyone this, but i also lettered in jazz band.’

clarke lets out a laugh. and you turn to her as you slip into some of her worn, soft boxers. they’re a little big so you roll them up and she takes a deep breath and then lets it out through her nose. you smile—you’re a little pleased and a little apologetic—and then she starts to ask another question, something about a saxophone or a trumpet, as you pull your sweater over your head. you’re drunk so you’d forgotten, for the first time in years, but when you go to deposit your sweater in a pile on top of your socks and jeans, clarke is quiet and fighting between staring at you and the corner of her room.

‘you’re my same age and you’re from maine,’ she says, things seemingly clicking into place.

you take your sweater and pull it over your head again, and your hands start shaking and your eyes press with tears.

‘lexa,’ she says, stepping toward you quickly, which only makes your heart race more. you’re drunk, you’re drunk, and you know you’re safe but your ears are ringing. ‘i’m sorry i just—i didn’t—god,’ she says. maybe she notices you trembling, maybe she notices the way you’ve seemingly forgot how to button your pants, but she straightens up and says, ‘lexa,’ just firmly enough of your to meet her eyes.

they’re so blue. you want to find comfort in them, and maybe you will, but everything is too loud right now.

‘i have to go,’ you get out, barely, all gritted teeth and you remember what it was like to choke on your own blood.

‘lexa,’ she says again, differently this time, pleading. ‘i’m sorry.’

you shake your head. ‘i’m not mad,’ you say, and you’re surprised you were able to express a thought as coherent as that. ‘it’s not—i have to go.’

she very gently helps you button your pants and then nods. ‘okay.’

you breathe a sigh of relief because clarke is kind, because clarke is fun and young and wild but she’s gentle, and your brain is trying to convince your body that it’s about to die again, but later you’ll remember this moment with such tenderness.

‘let me get your coat. i’ll get you a car too.’

you follow her out, nodding, maybe, and she helps you into your coat, walks you down and makes sure you get into a black towncar, makes sure her driver knows your address.

when you get to your dorm, you knock on anya’s door and she lets you in, mostly asleep, without a word.

‘you’re here,’ she tells you, helping you out of your clothes and into her bed, while she sets up a little nest of blankets on the floor. ‘you’re in new york and it’s winter and—‘ she pauses for a moment, then lets out a laugh— ‘you have a hickey on your neck, for sure.’

it shocks you just enough, happily, that your heart slows down a bit. ‘from clarke,’ you say, and her name feels solid on your tongue, quiet and present.

‘i never would’ve guessed,’ anya drawls from the floor.

it takes you a while to fall asleep and you have nightmares, but you do have a hickey from a very pretty girl when you wake up the next day, so.

there’s that.

it’s all very confusing: one minute you’re holding your piece of pizza, walking to the table you always sit at, every day, with your girlfriend and your friends. you’re tired and your hip is sore from hockey, your eyes hurt from reading the same history primary sources over and over again on the shitty library computers. costia is beautiful, though, and the pizza today looked less burnt than usual, and your uncle had promised to take you fishing this weekend.

one minute you’re holding your piece of pizza, and you’re sixteen, and then there’s a very distinct series of pops, a single click, and your pizza is on the floor because you can’t feel your hand. your arm is on fire and it takes you a few moments, but then everyone is screaming and there are so many pops, and it’s loud.

it occurs to you that you were shot, that this is a school shooting, that all of your classmates—your friends—are dying. Dead.

costia is rushing to you and then there’s another pop and you’re doubled over, because you can’t breathe and you can’t see because pain is shooting up from your abdomen and everyone is screaming, everyone won’t stop screaming, and costia is brushing hair out of your eyes but you can’t breathe, and it hurts.

‘lexa,’ costia is saying, ‘lexa.’

you swallow and you nod and costia is crying, and she presses down on your shoulder and then on your stomach, and you think you might pass out from the pain.

‘don’t go to sleep,’ she says, and her tears are falling onto your face. ‘don’t fall asleep, lexa, please,’ she says, chokes out on the edge of a sob.

‘it’s okay,’ you say, taste the copper and iodine of your own blood. you don’t know what drives you to say it, because there are so many gunshots and you know there are so many bodies but you can’t look away from costia’s perfect skin, her dark eyes, her pretty mouth. you don’t know where your friends are, and it registers somewhere that you might die, that you were shot and you have to have massive internal bleeding because you’re coughing up blood and you can’t feel your left hand.

but costia is saying your name and trying to keep your blood in your body. she’s saying your name, over and over again, her hands pressing hard into your skin, your gut. she’s saying your name until she’s not, until she’s slumped over you in a single instant.

you want to scream, and you hadn’t been scared until now. you want to scream but you can’t, and her breathing is ragged and she coughs up blood into the crook of your neck.

‘it’s okay,’ you say again, as clearly as you can, as best as you can, and you feel her nod, just slightly.

one minute ago you were sixteen years old, thinking about pizza and calculus and the federalist papers, walking to a table where you were going to sit with your friends and kiss your girlfriend, tuck your hands into the pockets of your letterman as you walked home.

costia’s breathing stops, you feel it stop, and it’s so loud, but you hear her heart stop. maybe you don’t, maybe that’s not possible, but you’re sure you’re going to die, and costia already has. it makes you feel sick, but she’s on top of you and you can’t move anyway, you can’t feel your hands or your legs and you can’t breathe.

one minute ago you were a child. you think you are going to die.

you will never be a child again.

anya tells you that you were asleep for four days. when you wake up in the hospital—in boston, with your shoulder shattered, your arm in a sling, two of your fingers still numb, your stomach cut open and stitched back together, from three different surgeries—when you wake up in the hospital you don’t think you’ll ever breathe again.

anya tells you, solemnly but without crying, that 27 people died. your friends, your classmates, people who have annoyed you since kindergarten.

you don’t have to ask if costia died because you know she died, but you ask anyway. your uncle is slumped over silently on the other side of your bed and you’re shocked you have tears left in you but you do, and the sob that works its way through your body burns.

they send a therapist in to talk to you, and you know you have ptsd and you tell her that you don’t know if you’ll ever feel real again, that you don’t really want to try to fall in love again. that you used to care about calculus and hockey ap us history, that all you wanted to do after school was make out with a very pretty girl in the back of your jeep. that you were excited about pizza.

she sits down and she sighs and she tells you that those things might never go away. but you tell her, a few weeks later, while you’re squeezing a stress ball as hard as you can, even though your hand isn’t working quite right, and your entire abdomen still aches when you try to stand up straight—you tell her that you still love trees. the ocean. your tidepools and all the words that have gone along with them.

you get to go home. it’s not the same—it’s hollow and it’s empty and gustus offers to move so you don’t have to go back to the same school. but you’re better enough now to wander along the craggy cliffs with your arm tucked around his study one. you have to pause a few times climbing to the top of his lighthouse, but you make it.

there’s a meteor shower, and you should’ve died.

you will never be a child again but there are shooting stars. you watch them above your head, and you watch them fall silently into the water below.

clarke finds you on sunday morning, far before the museum is open. she has flowers and two coffees and you’re blushing already.

‘first of all, i don’t want to trigger anything,’ she says, in a rush, and it makes you smile, ‘so i just wanted to say i think you’re beautiful and maybe some time you could stay and i promise not to ruin it.’

she kind of thrusts the bouquet in your face and you grin. you’re thrilled, because clarke is usually so confident and sure, and maybe she likes you just as much as you like her.

‘someone shot me and half of my school,’ is what comes out of your mouth, even though you hadn’t intended for it to at all. you hurry to keep talking after that one. ‘you didn’t ruin anything.’

she sighs in relief. ‘okay,’ she says. ‘i’m still—you know.’

‘yeah.’

she waits a beat for you to say anything else, and when she senses that that’s it, she smiles gently and wraps her hand around your arm. you’re holding a bouquet of chrysanthemums in the dinosaur room and a pretty girl is laughing about the compsognathus, and you correct her because they lived during the jurrasic era, not the triassic, and when you’re kissing her again, beside the triceratops skeleton, it doesn’t feel nearly as terrifying as the end of your world, as the end of anything at all.

#possibilist #possibilistfanfiction #museum au #here u go #clexa #read me

172 notes · View notes

ladygloucester · 6 years

Text

A Common Enemy - The nightmare

I really couldn’t leave you hanging like that so… here it is ^^

Previously…

A blood curling scream yanked Jamie off his sleep inconsiderately. He sat up and tried to listen out for any threat, but all he got was another scream that made his bones tremble. He looked at the door that was right by his side, knowing the sound was coming from there. If he entered, he’d have a lot of explaining to do, but if Claire was yelling like that, there was no time to wonder about repercussions. This train of thought only took about half a second before Jamie pushed the door open unsheathing his dagger.

Claire was grunting and screaming as if she was being murdered right then and there. Jamie’s eyes, accustomed to the fugitive life, examined the room in a single look to make sure no one had entered without him knowing. A hard enough task, already, he grimly thought. He closed the door and in a swift move, got by the bed, resting one knee upon it before grabbing Claire by the arms, tearing his sling in the process. Her shift was soaked in sweat and her pale skin was even paler at this nightly hour. She was shaking uncontrollably between his hands, and Jamie realized he had no idea what to do next.

He tried to keep her still.

“Claire, Claire, wake up, lass.”

His grip tightened a little bit when his words didn’t produce any effect. Worry started to creep in his stomach. Even though Claire’s bedchamber was far enough from the rest of the castle, screaming in the middle of the night would end up waking someone else up and raising questions. His left hand left her shoulder and crawled to her face, resting against her damp skin and caressing her cheek. It was cold as a dead body, but the touch made her eyes snap open.

Reality hit him as a ton of bricks. If anyone saw them there and realize they were alone in the middle of her bed, things wouldn’t go well for any of them. So he prayed that Claire didn’t scream when her eyes finally took in his figure and the situation. Her reaction was clearly not what he had been expecting.

After a few seconds, realizing that she was finally awake and whoever she was dreaming about wasn’t there, Claire launched herself at Jamie’s arms like he was a raft in the middle of white water. Her own arms locked securely around his neck and tears began to flow, unable to stop them once they started.

To say he was caught off guard is an understatement. It took him a second to realize she wasn’t trying to throw him off the bed or fight him off, and welcomed her embrace with one of his own. He enclosed her flickering body with his arms, hard despite the pain of his shoulder, just the way he liked to be held when he was a child and woke up from a nightmare. Whispering soft gaelic words into her hair, Jamie could feel her relaxing progressively against the warmth of his chest. One of his hands left the embrace and sailed up to her locks, caressing them softly.

“’Twas just a nightmare, mo nighean donn, just a nightmare.”

Jamie’s voice got to her for the first time in intelligible way. Almost intelligible way, at least. The broadness of his chest was the best haven she had found in longer than she could remember. It was firm but soft, hard but warm, and her head fitted perfectly in that place where neck and shoulder meet. Once terror set her senses free, she could smell his scent. A mixture of light sweat, fresh hay and musk. It smelled like home.

When he felt Claire’s stance relaxed, he pulled her away slightly so they could see each other’s faces, even in the shadows. Gently, Jamie pushed her hair aside her face, and wiped the sweat and tears that still grazed her skin with the cuff of his shirt. A shadow descended upon his eyes, furrowing his brow.

“Ye’re trembling, lass. D’ye—” Jamie thanked God it was dark and she couldn’t see his face blushing fiercely. “D’ye have another shift ye can put on? This one is soaking wet.”

Claire nodded, shuddering in the night cold, and pointed to the small chest that contained the few clothes Mrs. Fitzgibbons had been able to gather for her. He felt as a child who had been caught redhanded while looking for the white piece of clothing, and when he finally found it, a low bless escaped his lips.

“Here.”

He handed it to her timidly, and turn around to leave the bedroom and resume his precarious night of sleep. But her clear voice reached him for the first time in almost a week.

“Jamie, wait—”

He stopped right on his tracks, knowing she was changing her shift for the drier one. When the bed cracked again after Claire settled back in, he faced her, crossing his hands behind his back to keep them for betraying his nervousness. He felt his heart sink as he focused back on her. She was still shuddering, apparently unable to shake whatever had haunted her that night in her sleep.

In a couple of strides, he was back at her side, throwing back the covers and patting the feather mattress for her to lie down on it. She obliged, her teeth chattering, and he promptly covered her with the blankets, tucking her firmly in. He looked at the hearth, and cursed silently when realized there was no wood or turf to light up a fire. While thinking of a possible solution (maybe he could go to his bedroom and grab some sticks, or perhaps the kitchens…), a hand colder than ice shyly grabbed his wrist and made him look at her.

“Don’t go. Please.“

He felt a knot forming in his guts. There was nothing he would like more than holding her in his arms, whisper in her ear until she fell asleep and wake up with the sun sparkling on her hair. An unwilling sigh left his well formed mouth as he contemplated that scene and thought he wouldn’t mind ending and starting each day in that fashion for the rest of his life.

“Sassenach, if I stay and someone comes in, ye’ll be in trouble. Yer reputation—“

“Please.”

Her pleading tone made him yield. One last look at the door, securely closed, and he slowly took off his boots first, then his shirt.

“Move over,“ he sighed.

He knew he was a furnace. His temperature had always been high, and he could remember those winter nights, back at home, when he and his sister were just children and she would crawl into his bed with those feet, cold as the morning drizzle. Ye’re warm, Jamie, she’d say as an excuse while nestling next to him. When Claire finally made room for him, he slowly lay down before covering them both again with the blankets.

He was a bit stiff. Not knowing what to do, or what she’d want, he just lay there quietly until Claire crawled up to him and curled up against his side. Instinctively, his arm surrounded her shoulder to keep her tight against his skin and caressed her back soothingly. Her own arm settled over his body, holding him close, and a content sigh accompanied her movement. Jamie was starting to doze off as their temperatures became equal, when her soft voice yanked him off back.

“How did you know I was having a— a nightmare?”

And there it was. Once again, Jamie thanked God for the darkness and her not looking at his face. He wasn’t sure that even with the dim light of the room she wouldn’t see his ears becoming a deep shade of red.

“Ach, errr— Dinna— I was juist sleeping outside,” he confessed timidly. “I was worried someone could come and… Dinna ken, do something to ye?” Silence felt between them for a minute, while she processed his words. He stayed alert, in order to detect any movement that could point to her being uncomfortable or to plain rejection, but she was still, her fingers shivering against the skin of his side.

“You’ve been sleeping outside my door on the floor?” She repeated with what he could interpret as a mix of astonishment and (he smiled to himself) a hint of satisfaction. He had to wipe it off his face when she braced herself on her elbow to look him in the eye, and replace it with a more serious brood. “How long?”

“Dinna fash, Sassenach, juist… juist a few nights, that’s it.”

They held each other’s gaze for a while until realization hit her and she began the process of sitting up and leaving the bed, but Jamie didn’t loosened his embrace.

“Your sling, you…”

“Ye can put it back tomorrow. Now, sleep,” he settled as she resumed her position, placing her head against his chest.

“I’m scared to close my eyes,” Claire whispered with her lips moving against his skin. It took every ounce of restraint in his body to contain a pleasant shivering, and he opted for patting her head fondly.

“I told ye. Ye need not be scairt of me. Nor anyone else here, so long as I'm with ye.”

The sun hadn’t rise yet, but light began to flood the room. Before opening her eyes, Claire felt exhausted. It had been a long time since she had nightmares with Randall, but that one had left her drained. She was about to stretch when the rest of her body woke up as well. There was someone in bed with her. Memories of Jamie’s stealing her away from the bad dream and staying with her to keep her warm overrun her mind and made her eyelids shut even harder. She remembered curling up next to him, but as the night went by, they had moved and were now facing each other. She could feel her leg over his, the soft wool of his kilt, his arm around her waist keeping her close to his body, and the magnificent heat that his skin irradiated against hers. Claire could tell how close they were when she realized that the subtle breeze that caressed her face was his deep, quiet breath. The cadence of his chest, moving slowly up and down under her own arm, gave her the courage to open slowly one eye, then the other. He was still asleep.

Her heart began to pound against her ribs. She had never had the chance to look at him so closely, and so freely. The nose, straight but a bit turned-up at the point, reminded her of the greek sculptures her uncle Lambert had been so fond of, as did the high cheekbones. His cheeks were covered in a golden stubble that she thought so soft she had to restrain herself from touching it. And of course, his eyes. Those almond-shaped eyes, almost feline. Whenever he looked at her under those long, blonde eyelashes, her heart skipped a beat. His thick brows rested relaxed, in a slightly darker tone than the red and golden curls that grazed his forehead. They gave him such a youthful look in his sleep that she couldn’t help but smiling. Also, they looked so silky that the restraint that had kept her hand securely tucked under her face, palm on palm with the other, made a mind of its own and extended its fingers to caress them. At first, only her fingertips brushed against them. They were as flossy as she thought. Gaining confidence, her fingers began to weave those curls, delighting in the feeling.

A pleased smile showed up on his lips and a gutural groan made his chest purr. Her hand froze in place and the sudden stop made him open tentatively one beautiful blue eye. Jamie laughed deeply in content.

“Ye look like a bairn who juist got caught stealing a pie from the kitchen, Sassenach…”

“I, ehm, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“Don’t stop. It feels nice.“ He mumbled huskily and pulled his head closer, if it was even possible, to encourage her. Their foreheads rested against the pillow, grazing each other.

It took her a second to gain the confidence back, but after she did, she allowed herself to play his curls without concern. He groaned again while she massaged his scalp and she wondered about the hundred of hues of the locks weaved around her fingers.

Painfully aware of her proximity, Jamie got lost in the feeling of her fingers wandering in his hair. Keeping his eyes tightly shut, at least he could hide the look of desire he knew they would give off, but when her hand navigated to his nape and caressed the gap where his head joined the neck, his willpower abandoned him like a feather caught in an air stream. Quietly panting, his chest moving up and down visibly, he opened his eyes and was stared back by those amber eyes of hers. His hand moved from her back to her hip, sinking his fingers in the tender flesh. He searched for a sign, anything that could indicate that she was unwilling. But when he felt that hand in the back of her head slightly pull him towards her, he couldn’t contain himself anymore.

His lips crashed against hers, eliciting a soft moan of pleasure from them that made his whole body tremble. Pulling her body even closer to his, their skins kissed each other just as their mouths were. Her hand was replaced by her whole arm, embracing his neck, not allowing him to part. His lips pressed firmly against hers, taking her lower lip between them, nibbling it slowly with his teeth. She opened her mouth to let him explore it, causing a groan that turned her body to jelly. Jamie slowly pressed her to lie on her back, hovering above her while his hand navigated the pleasant curves of her body. His tongue slipped between her lips, looking for hers and caressing it tenderly. Her hands went over his back, stroking his skin and erasing his scars under her loving touch, before getting lost again in his curls.

Jamie parted slowly, grazing the tip of her nose with his own. His breathing was heavy, and it took a moment for him to open back his eyes. He saw her cheeks flushed, the look of desire that mimicked his own.

“Where did you learn to kiss like that?” She asked raising her eyebrows.

“I might ha’ been to a convent, but I’m not a monk”.

Jamie’s smirk melted her bones while he looked at her from under those never ending eyelashes. He rested his forehead against hers while keeping all his weight off her chest, his arms like columns at each side of her head.

“As much as I enjoyed this, Sassenach, I think it might be better to stop here. I amna a monk and sure as there’s a hell below us that I amna made of stone either…”

The bang of the door clashing against the wall froze them on place. Douglas voice welcomed them from the threshold.

“Care to explain this, lass?” He said holding out a piece of paper. Claire looked over Jamie’s shoulder and her blood left her face. She could discern, even from the distance, that elegant handwriting in a million lives.

It was Jack Randall’s.

Next…

#Outlander #outlander fanfiction #outlander fic #outlander fanfic #a common enemy #Jamie Fraser #jamie x claire #claire beauchamp #ladygoutlanderfic

115 notes · View notes

halfabreath · 6 years

Note

prompt: anything in the after the raven verse i BEG. (or anything rare pair to be honest.)

me: just write like five hundred words for #inspo me @ me: write jackholtz’ first kiss and make it Longme: ….nice nice nice ncie n i c e

anyway. here’s that. for @alphacrone, who deserves all the rarepairs.

Feb. 13th, 2015.

Adam trudges from the barn towards his house, eyes locked on the back door. It’s literally freezing; ice crunches and snaps beneath the heavy soles of his work boots. Adam loves his farm, loves living in Rhode Island, but seriously, fuck February. He knocks his boots against the door frame with a little more force than necessary to dislodge the dirt and ice that’s collected in the grooves of his boots. When he opens the door he’s flooded with heat and light and a delicious smell, something sweet and spicy that invites him in. He kicks off his boots and walks into the kitchen, one eyebrow raising when he sees who’s there.

“Jack?” He asks mildly, fingers busy unzipping his heavy coat. “What are you still doing here?” Jack just shrugs, looking completely at ease in Adam’s kitchen. Back in December he’d come by the farm once every couple weeks to check on his hives. By January he started coming every weekend. Now, he drops by twice a week, dutifully checking on the hives Adam assumed were hibernating. He’s even been stranded overnight when the roads are too slick or snowy to drive on; Adam’s offered him the other half of his huge mattress, too embarrassed of his terrible pull out couch to force Jack to sleep in the living room.

“Colony F is showing symptoms of Nosema disease. I’d just have to turn around and come back tomorrow morning to check on it so i was hoping…” Jack trails off, glancing over at the hallway that leads to Adam’s bedroom.

“Sure,” Adam says. He walks over to the stove, the old floorboards creaking beneath his feet. There’s a small pot on the range, steaming lightly. “What are you making?” He asks, coming to lean against the counter next to Jack.

As Jack stirs the liquid, cinnamon sticks, cloves, and star anise surface and sink back down into the bottom of the pot. “When you were in the barn Ollie came by with a new spiced cider. He and Wicky were hoping you’d try it and make a cheese to pair with it.” He nods over at the mason jar that’s sitting on the counter, the label for Fist Bump Orchard emblazoned on the side.

Adam hums, already reaching into a cabinet to procure two mugs. Jack ladles out some of the cider into each mug and turns off the stove before picking one up. “To Colony F,” Adam says and they clink the ceramic together gently. Adam takes the first sip and immediately reaches out, free hand settling on Jack’s arm. Jack looks over at him in concern, the steaming mug inches away from his face. “There’s spiced rum in here,” Adam warns. “A lot of it, which is pretty on brand for Ollie and Wicks, but, uh. Just thought I’d warn you. I know you don’t drink much.” He explains, carefully removing his hand.

Jack glances down at the liquid in his cup with a small smile on his lips. “Thanks for the warning.” He says quietly, gaze flickering up to meet Adam’s. He’s stunning like this, open and bright and Adam’s suddenly overwhelmed but he can’t look away.

“You’re welcome,” He says, trying to remember how to breathe. He used to be able to do it, it used to be so easy, but now, with Jack Zimmermann smiling up at him it’s just — it’s hard to focus on anything else. Jack looks away and air rushes into Adam’s lungs. He takes a long, fortifying sip of the hot cider to distract himself. It’s good, but not quite perfect. He closes his eyes and takes another sip, focusing on the interplay of the individual flavors. Yeah, he can definitely make something for this once they get the spiced rum under control.

They drink their ciders slowly, lingering in the kitchen until Adam’s finished his mug. Jack only drinks half of his but takes small sips as they clean up. Adam usually hates having people in his space, but at some point in the past few months Jack stopped being people. He’s something else entirely, some new category that Adam refuses to identify even as he climbs into bed, Jack already tucked in on the other side of the mattress. He doesn’t have to admit it to himself tonight, or ever, really.

“Night,” He says just before turning out the light.

“Night,” Jack echoes. Adam pulls the blankets up to his chest and settles on his side, eyes falling shut. It doesn’t take much effort to staunchly ignore every indicator or Jack’s presence: the sound of his even breathing, the heat radiating from his half of the bed, the slight depression in the mattress. Adam’s had more than enough practice so he wills himself to sleep, the day’s tension slowly seeping from his muscles with every breath.

“You were good, you know.” Jack says suddenly, every syllable hushed and tenuous, like he’s hoping Adam’s asleep. Adam was so, so close to finally drifting off, but Jack’s whispered words pull him back into wakefulness. He faithfully ignores the thrill that goes through him, pushing down the warmth that always sparks when he’s praised.

Adam doesn’t roll over, but he does shift so his words aren’t muffled by his pillow. “Good at what?” He asks, voice far gruffer than he anticipated. He coughs to clear his throat, the sound almost distracting him from the soft rustling of the sheets next to him. Jack must be moving, but Adam stays still.

“At hockey,” Jack clarifies. He sounds a little surprised that Adam hadn’t immediately realized what he was talking about; Adam’s not sure how to tell him that most people don’t think about hockey on a minute by minute basis. “You were really good,” Jack continues. “You would have made it all the way.”

“Is that why you hated me?” Adam asks lightly, trying to lighten the mood with a joke.

“Yes,” Jack says, dead serious. The word settles between them, sinking into the fibers of the blankets they’re sharing.

Adam rolls over, mouth open as he tries to think of something, anything, to say to that, but when he turns Jack’s right there, close enough for Adam to make out his features without his glasses. Moonlight illuminates his face, casting a silver glow over his perfect cheekbones and droopy eyes. Jack closes his eyes, releasing his breath in a heavy sigh. He looks exhausted, brows drawn together and lips turned downwards, but he doesn’t turn away. Adam moves closer, shifting centimeter by centimeter until the back of his hand brushes against Jack’s fingers. Jack inhales softly, just a small gasp of air, and opens his eyes.

“I don’t hate you now.” He says, somehow serious and earnest at the same time, like he’s not sure if Adam will believe him. His brows draw further together when Adam laughs.

“Jack, we’re literally sharing a bed right now. I know you don’t hate me.” Adam says, broad smile still lingering. “And for the record, I don’t hate you, either. You’d be sleeping on my shitty, back-breaking couch if that were the case.” He rolls onto his back but quickly turns his gaze back to Jack. Adam doesn’t want to look away for too long, not when Jack has that little smile on his face, not when Jack presses his face into the pillow to muffle his soft laughter, not when Jack is right there, close enough to touch.

Adam swallows and forces himself to look back up at the ceiling. He takes the warmth that’s built up in his chest and molds it into a tiny ball. He shoves it deep down, locking it away in the corner of his mind he reserves for Emotions He Does Not Need Or Want. Out of sight, out of mind. Adam squeezes his eyes shut, inhaling deeply. The winter night feels just a little bit colder but Adam makes himself focus on the chill. The warmth he feels for Jack is dangerous; he can’t trust anything but the cold that’s leeching onto his fingertips. Jack’s a furnace beside him but he rolls over, turning his back on every compromising thought and feeling. It’s safer this way. Jack’s breathing evens out behind him and Adam soon follows him into sleep, cold but safe.

Jack wakes up to an empty bed and an unpleasantly dry mouth. He sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and looks over at the rumpled sheets beside him. He’s not sure why he spoke up last night, why it felt important to tell Adam those things in that moment. Jack doesn’t understand a lot of the things he’s been doing lately, from checking on his bees far more regularly than they need to making up excuses to avoid returning to his apartment. He used to love his little one bedroom, with its river views and shelf after shelf of books, but now whenever he returns from Adam’s farm it feels unpleasantly spacious, empty and vacant. For all his issues Jack’s never been agoraphobic but now, after being in that apartment, he thinks he understands the fear. He wasn’t even aware of how uncomfortable it was until he’d spent time in Adam’s cozy farmhouse which, ironically, has more square footage than his apartment. It just feels better, and Jack has no idea why. He dresses quickly, catching glimpses of Adam out the windows as he works. Adam always moves with purpose, striding quickly from the barn to the pasture, cheeks red from the cold. Jack hurries to check on his hives; the sooner he examines them the less he’ll worry.

Jack removes the top portion of the hive with little preamble. He works quickly, not wanting to expose the hive for too long. The queen’s not in any danger, he knows. Her colony swarms around her in the cold, vibrating their millions of wings to keep her warm. He works his way through each sheet, meticulous as ever despite the chill. As he nears the bottom he spots the largest cluster of bees, a football sized lump that he knows must be wrapped around the queen. Absently, he wonders if it feels claustrophobic for her, if she’s ever tempted to break free from the hive and make it on her own. He knows, though, that every single one of her instincts is telling her to stay exactly where she is. She’ll remain with the hive for the duration of her life, content to live in the small colony.

Jack understands the appeal. Last night his instincts had told him to stay in the warmth of Adam’s farmhouse, too, and suddenly, everything Jack’s been doing makes perfect sense. Jack almost drops his bees, shocked by the instantaneous, all encompassing clarity. Everything - the frequent visits, the excuses to stay, avoiding his apartment - falls into place and Jack can see precisely why he’s been so distracted. The fog lifts and for the first time in months Jack knows precisely what he needs to do, and he needs to do it immediately.

Jack reassembles the hive carefully but the moment it’s sealed he takes off for the barn at a full sprint. His hat flies off his head, the veil fluttering as it falls to the ground. He leaves it behind, unable to bear wasting a single second. The barn isn’t far from where he keeps his hives but it feels like the last mile of a marathon, each step seemingly taking far, far longer than he wants.

“Adam!” Jack calls out as he flings open the barn doors, only to have a few goats look up at him in surprise. He pauses for just a second before closing the doors, slamming them in his haste. He runs towards the pasture, slipping through the fence easily despite his bulky coat and boots. The cows look up as he runs past them, some of them trotting away in fear. He jumps over cow pies and frozen over mud holes, heading straight for the hill in the middle of the pasture. It’s the vantage point he needs in order to know if Adam’s close by or if he’s driven over to the limits of his acreage. Jack’s not sure what he’ll do if that’s the case. He’ll see how far he can run, at least. When he reaches the crest of the hill Jack scans the pasture, face falling when he doesn’t see anything other than distant cows and scattered trees.

“Jack?”

He turns, and there’s Adam, holding a goat in his arms. He’s frowning, brows drawn together in concern. The goat shifts in his arms but he holds it steady, approaching Jack slowly.

“Are you okay? What happened?” Adam asks, but before he can speak again Jack takes three steps to close the distance between them and cups Adam’s face in his palms, sealing their lips together in a firm kiss.

It’s — cold, mostly. Jack’s fingers are almost numb and he knows his lips are chapped and cold from running but then Adam opens up with a shaky gasp and it’s suddenly burning hot, warm and bright and brilliant. Adam’s in constant movement beneath his hands and lips, returning the kiss ardently. Something wiggles between them and then there’s a goat nose diving into the collar of his coat. Jack jerks back, trying avoid being nibbled, but Adam stands still, eyes closed and eyebrows raised in surprise. Jack steps into his space again and pushes the goat’s head away with one hand, cupping Adam’s flushed cheek with the other.

Adam’s eyes fly open, blue and clear as the winter sky, and Jack gets lost for just a second, just long enough for Adam to lean in and kiss him again. It’s soft, just a brush of lips before Adam’s smiling too much to continue, and Jack’s grin grows to match.

“I thought the house was burning down,” Adam murmurs, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Jack’s.

“I’m sorry I worried you, I just realized that I love you.” Jack says, seeing no reason to hold back the truth.

Adam blinks down at him, clearly caught off guard. “Oh that’s, uh. Wow, that’s, that’s, okay. Right out the gate.” He says, as close as Jack’s ever seen him to speechless. Jack brushes his thumbs over Adam’s pink cheeks.

“Too much?” He asks with a little wince. Ten seconds of retrospect now tell him that it’s maybe a little too early to start throwing those words around, even if he’d meant them. Adam immediately shakes his head.

“Just enough.” He says quickly, but it’s not enough to ease the anxiety that surges up in the back of Jack’s throat. He swallows it down, staring at the hollow of Adam’s throat as he puts together a sentence in his head before speaking.

“I don’t expect you to say it back - “ Jack begins, but Adam presses even further into his space and interrupts him before he finishes.

“Jack. I’ve been pining, like a fucking high schooler, since you barged into my house uninvited with a menorah in one hand and loaf of challah in the other because you were worried I’d be alone for all of Hanukkah.” Adam admits, and Jack can’t help but smile as he remembers it. It had happened almost exactly like Adam had described - in a moment of inspiration he’d postponed his flight to Montreal one day and driven up to the farm, intent on giving Adam at least one eighth of a proper Hanukkah. If he’d bothered to ask he would have learned that Adam’s sisters were due to arrive late that night, but he’d stayed long enough to light one of the candles with Adam before taking off.

“Oh.” Jack murmurs, shocked that Adam’s somehow managed to wait two months before saying it.

“Oh.” Adam mimics, softening the sound around the edges. “I - “ Adam’s interrupted by the goat’s impatient bleating. She jerks in his arms, trying to escape, and Jack steps back to avoid kicking legs while Adam calms her with soothing whispers. He readjusts his grip and the goat settles, resting her head on Adam’s shoulder.

“Why are you carrying a goat, anyway?” Jack asks, finally able to focus on something besides AdamAdamAdam.

Adam jerks his head back towards the barn and they set off together. “This little asshole chewed through the barn wall and decided to go on an adventure all night even though it was freezing. I’m taking her back to make sure she doesn’t have frostbite.” He explains. Not for the first time, Jack’s relieved the bees don’t need that much supervision. They walk silently through the pasture, elbows bumping as they avoid mud and shit, and every few moment Adam glances over at him, like he’s checking to make sure Jack’s still there.

The goat begins to fuss again when they walk past the cows. For all of Adam’s sharp edges he smiles down at the goat, and makes little bleating noises to mimic a conversation with her. He’s so involved in replying to her that he doesn’t notice when Jack falls behind. Jack digs out his phone and takes a moment to set up the shot before calling Adam’s name. Adam turns, and Jack takes a rapid fire series of shots, capturing his natural expression, his surprise, the fond smile that follows, and the final ridiculous pose where he holds the goat aloft, reenacting a scene from The Lion King.

“Is this what I’m signing up for?” Adam asks and Jack jogs the few steps to catch up with him. They’re out of the pasture now, and Jack holds the final gate open for Adam to walk through. “Submitting to random photo shoots?”

Adam’s smiling, clearly trying to make a joke, but Jack just follows him into the barn and replies honestly. “You haven’t signed up yet.” He says, letting the door close behind him. Adam freezes for a moment, caught off guard, and then he’s turning around in a flurry of movement. He sets the goat down carefully and strides towards Jack as he strips off his gloves and heavy jacket with quick, decisive movements, letting them drop behind him as he walks. He’s already reaching out when Jack surges towards him and Adam’s big, warm hands frame his jaw and cheeks. Jack wraps his arms around Adam’s waist but before he can pull him close Adam pauses, studying Jack’s face carefully.

“Jack,” He says, voice soft and open. Adam hesitates, like he has something to say, then ducks his head to press their lips together in a deep kiss. When they break apart Adam doesn’t move away. He keeps close, eyes shut, as he breathes. Jack waits, gazing up at him patiently. He’ll wait all day for this man, all week and all month and all year. Luckily, he only has to wait a few more seconds until Adam’s eyes drift open and he’s looking back into that clear winter sky, a rare warmth beneath the pale blue. “You are the most beautiful, hard working, intelligent, best, weirdest man I have ever met. Of course I want to be with you.” He says, and Jack can’t hold back a second longer before kissing him again. He kisses Adam until the taller man trembles beneath his hands, then kisses him some more. He only pulls back when Adam’s trembling becomes full-blown shivering.

“Let’s get you back in that coat, eh?” Jack suggests, rubbing his hands up and down Adam’s biceps briskly to try and warm him. Smiling sheepishly, Adam picks up his coat and dusts off the straw and dirt before putting it back on.

“I didn’t want to kiss you with goat detritus all over my front and hands,” Adam explains, cold fingers fumbling with the zipper. Jack steps back in his space and pulls down his hat, making sure it covers his ears.

“I wanted to kiss you despite it.” Jack admits, hands settling on Adam’s chest after he zips ip his coat. “Now come on, there’s a goat-shaped hole in your barn we should fix.” He rocks up to press a kiss to Adam’s cheek, because he can, because he wants to, because it makes Adam’s already red cheeks turn a shade darker.

That night, long after the barn is repaired and the animals are milked and fed, Adam’s breathing evens out as he falls asleep. Jack can feel his rib cage expand with each breath and when he concentrates, he swears he can feel Adam’s heart thump-thumping against his back. He pulls Adam’s arm more securely around his waist, closes his eyes, and dreams of winter skies and millions of fluttering wings.

#jackholtz #after the raven #alphacrone #honestly it's soft as fuck so just uh be prepared #beekeeper!jack #farmer!holster #FARM AU FARM AU FARM AU #adam holster birkholtz #jack zimmermann

53 notes · View notes