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seasonofthewicth · 3 years

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candlelit cabin

prompt: Pretend boyfriend/girlfriend for family Christmas party. I took this prompt and ran with it. rowaelin 4.5k

“Rowan, please. Hear me out.”

Aelin positions herself in the doorway to their kitchen with a hand to his chest, blocking his way so he’s forced to hear her out. The cotton of his worn t-shirt is soft against her fingertips and she longs to twist her fingers into the fabric and pull him close.

Rowan rolls his eyes but brings his hand up to cover hers against his chest. “Go on.”

She grins. She’s known Rowan for long enough now, lived with him for a few years too, to know that she’s going to get her way.

At first, the shared apartment had been frosty, with them both avoiding the shared spaces when they knew the other was in there. Aelin had moved in with him because she had known him through mutual friends from college, who had verified that he wasn’t a serial killer, and he had a spare room that she needed.

Now, Rowan Whitethorn is quite possibly her favourite person on earth.

“You know Aedion just got engaged.” Aelin presses her other hand to his chest, working the puppy-dog eyes to help her case.

Rowan nods with his eyebrows raised, this isn’t news to him. The announcement card has been pinned to their fridge for a few weeks. “Yeah, so?”

“So, my parents are going to be on me all week about when I’m going to settle down, and in my opinion; it’s Christmas. I’m already bummed enough about being single, I don’t need them constantly bringing it up, but anyway, that’s where you come in.”

For as long as she can remember her parents have hosted Christmas in their cabin in the Staghorns. So much so that she can’t think of the holiday period without thinking of the wooden-walled cabin, with it’s rustic fireplaces and grounds full of pine trees.

She can almost smell the mulled wine her mum cooks over the stove, the way her fingers would smell of orange for hours after chopping the fruit for her mum to throw in. Some of her best memories are from the cabin, and Lorcan can tease her all he wants, calling her a spoiled princess, but it’s not like she doesn’t know how lucky she is.

It’s also not like he’s never made use of her generosity when it comes to his anniversaries with Elide.

Rowan winces at her words and her natural response is to grin up at him where he cringes away, already knowing where she’s going. He can almost read her mind at this point.

“Rowan Whitethorn, fake-boyfriend-extraordinaire.”

“Aelin, you know I’d do anything for you,” He starts, and Aelin’s heart takes off at the words.

It’s a well established fact, for everyone apart from him, that she’s in love with her best friend. She’s dealing with it.

Sharing an apartment with him makes it difficult to ignore how attractive she finds him, in his suit dressed for work and in his pyjamas on lazy Sunday nights. He always looks incredible.

In the years she’s known him he’s only gotten better looking. From the lanky teenager she met in her first year of college Rowan has matured from a boy to a man. A man Aelin is very attracted to.

She’s always acknowledged his attractiveness, but since moving into his apartment she has found herself more and more drawn to him. His voice, his smile, the way he makes her a coffee in the morning and leaves sweet treats on the counter for her from the bakery near his office.

But he’s never hinted he wants anything more from her than friends. Again, she’s dealing with it.

Rowan is still speaking, and it drags her out of her daze. “But I seriously doubt your parents would believe that I was your boyfriend that you hadn’t told them about.”

Rowan is wrong. So wrong. Evalin and Rhoe have made an endless number of comments about the two of them over the years. Her parents adore Rowan, almost as much as Aelin herself, and so far Aelin has managed to quell their hopes. Taking Rowan as her fake-boyfriend to the cabin is most definitely a bad idea, only adding fuel to her parents’ fire, but she’s desperate.

“Ro, please.” She’s not above actually begging. She leans further into the hands pressed against his chest and she knows as he bites his lip she’s won.

“Fine,” He sighs. “But I’m not driving.”

“We can do half each?” She offers and he only rolls his eyes again, but he’s smiling and she leans up to press a peck to his cheek.

“Thank you,” She says. “I love you, seriously.”

She doesn’t think she’s imagining the blush on his cheeks as he grumbles and uses the back of his hand to wipe her kiss off.

“Rowan, take the bed.”

“Aelin, I’m not kicking you out of your own bed in your own house.”

She sighs. They’re at a stalemate.

They’re standing on opposite sides of the bed, both dressed for bed, and she’s ignoring how good he looks. He’s wearing a pair of soft-looking green flannel pyjama pants and a grey t-shirt. Simple, but it’s really working for him.

“It’s fine, I’ll be fine on the floor. It’s carpet.”

Rowan looks anguished. “No. I don’t see why I can’t take the spare room like I do every time I come here.”

“My parents aren’t stupid. Every time you’ve come here before we’ve just been friends. We need them to believe this.”

She gestures between the two of them. Her parents had greeted them upon their arrival at the cabin. Aelin had managed to persuade Rowan to drive the whole way, she knew she would, and her parents had been waiting on the doorstep when Rowan pulled the car up outside the cabin.

They had been wearing matching expressions of glee, and Aelin saw Rowan visibly steel himself before stepping out of the car.

The introduction hadn’t been a big deal, her parents have met Rowan a number of times before, but never as Aelin’s boyfriend. Aelin thinks it went pretty well and that her parents likely don’t doubt their story. She’s again ignoring why that could be.

Rowan crosses his arms across his broad chest and Aelin forces herself to concentrate.

“They could just think I’m being polite,” He tries to argue and Aelin shoots him an unimpressed look.

“Here’s a radical idea,” She says. “Why don’t we just share. The bed is easily big enough for the two of us, we’ve shared a bed before.”

Rowan scoffs. “Yeah, when we were both blackout drunk. Do you even remember that night?”

Yes. In great detail. “No, but it will be fine.”

Rowan releases his arms from their place across his chest and Aelin knows she’s won. “Okay.”

Aelin fights her smile.

“I can still take the floor.”

Aelin sighs and pulls her side of the duvet back, “Just get in the bed.”

It is not fine.

Aelin thinks it’s probably been about half an hour since she got into the bed and she is still staring at the ceiling, wide awake. Rowan’s breathing has been quiet and even for a while, he’s probably fast asleep.

He’s so close, she can feel his warmth under the covers, but they aren’t touching. It would be so easy to reach her hand across the mattress and trail her fingertips up his arm until her hand was at his shoulder. It would be so easy to roll onto her side, throw her leg over his and rest her head on his chest.

It would be so easy to kiss him.

She sighs, frustrated again and feels the mattress shift at her side.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” Rowan’s on his side now, facing her in the bed, but his eyes are still shut.

Aelin rolls herself onto her side to face him, she allows herself to catalogue his whole face in the small beam of moonlight slipping in through the curtain. The silver of his eyebrows to the pink of his lips. Even in the darkness she can see the long sweep of his eyelashes and the slight dusting of stubble across his jaw.

She’s so fucking in love with him.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” She retorts.

“I can hear you thinking from here.”

Aelin laughs and Rowan’s eyes finally flash open, still so brightly green even in the dark. He grins back at her and she loses herself in the smile a little bit.

“I’m not thinking about anything,” She says automatically and Rowan just nestles himself deeper into the pillow and waits. She melts at the sight. The vision of him tucked up in bed opposite her looking so relaxed is almost too much. “Okay, maybe I’m just thinking about how to sell this.”

“This?”

“Me and you, you know, deeply in love.”

Rowan huffs a laugh, deliciously deep and sleepy. “I don’t think we’ll have to do that much, what’s the difference between us and a couple anyway?”

Aelin thinks her heart stops beating. She clears her throat to restart it. “What do you mean?”

She hears the rustle of the duvet as he shrugs. “How does any couple differ from friends? Apart from people who are big on PDA, it shouldn’t be very different.”

“I don’t think you have to be big on PDA to act like a couple. Most couples, you know, hug, kiss, do couple-y stuff that’s different from us.”

“Right.” Rowan’s voice is soft in the darkness, and she wishes she could see more of his expression.

“You probably will have to kiss me at some point this week.”

Aelin didn’t mean to say that, definitely not, but it’s true. Her parents would think it was at least slightly unusual if Aelin never shared even a peck with her supposed boyfriend over Christmas.

She hopes it’s dark enough that Rowan can’t see the fire in her cheeks.

“Oh.”

His response really doesn’t give her a lot to go off.

“You don’t have to,” She starts. “We could probably get away with it, I’d just tell them-”

“Aelin.”

Aelin stops speaking. There’s something in his voice that halts her breath in her throat.

“We should have practiced this,” He says. “We should have discussed this.”

Aelin frowns, somewhat defensive. “I thought you would have known, I mean, you’re coming here to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

Rowan just breathes out a breath she thinks could be a laugh. “I know, I did know that. Now I’m just shitting myself at the thought of kissing you in front of your dad.”

Aelin laughs now, too loudly for the quiet of the night.

“You can kiss me now if you want to get it out of the way, that way when you have to do it in front of my dad it will be no big deal.”

She’s joking. Or at least she hopes he thinks she is.

Rowan is silent for a beat too long.

“Really?” He asks.

Aelin tries to sound nonchalant. “Yeah, you’ll have to get ready to kiss me at some point. Unless I’m too hideous to even consider.”

“Aelin,” Rowan sounds pained. “You’re not hideous.”

“I know, I was joking.” She smiles hoping he can at least see that. “About that anyway.”

“Right. You don’t mind if I kiss you now? For practice.”

“Not at all. Kiss away, Buzzard.”

If she makes enough jokes she can pretend her heart isn’t pounding in her chest as Rowan shifts closer.

“Okay,” He says and Aelin’s entire body sets alight.

He reaches out a hand to cup her cheek and Aelin wants to lean into his touch forever. She needs to remember every moment of this.

She wriggles closer to him, very much aware of the fact that they’re lying in bed together and he’s about to kiss her.

“You’re absolutely sure about this?” He’s so close to her now that his breath washes across her face as he speaks.

She wants him to pause, to hold on to let her catalogue every single moment of this but she nods, unable to find the words past the catch in her throat.

“Okay,” She catches him whisper under his breath, mostly to himself, as she allows her eyes to flutter shut.

Aelin holds herself almost painfully still as he presses his lips to hers in a feather-light touch. His lips are warm and soft against her own.

He pulls back far too soon, only a millisecond later, but he doesn’t remove his hand from her cheek as she opens her eyes.

She can’t find a single word to say, she never wants to leave this moment. Here in this dark room in the silence she wants to kiss him forever.

Rowan is watching her silently, his eyes flicking up and down her face, from her eyes to her lips and back again.

“Hi,” She whispers and he smiles.

“Hi.”

His fingers flex on her cheek and she allows herself to bring a palm up to his shoulder. His eyes flutter shut for a moment.

“Aelin,” He says, his voice hoarse.

His eyes snap open, watching her, and he reads something on her face that has him drawing her face back to his.

This kiss is different from the first.

The first was tentative and unsure. Testing the waters.

This kiss is tender and deep. Rowan takes his time with her, starting with a gentle press of his lips against her own before pressing harder against her. His hand shifts down from her face as he kisses her to wrap around her waist and tug her tighter to him.

Aelin allows the hand on his shoulder to slip up and to slide through the silver strands of his hair.

Rowan gasps at the touch and she slips her tongue into his mouth.

He tastes of mint and Aelin wants more. She presses further into him, her breaths coming fast in gasps every time their lips part and return to each other. Rowan rolls onto his back and the arm around her waist pulls her with him.

She’s half on top of him now, leaning up on an elbow with a leg thrown over his as she kisses him. His free hand comes up to twist through her hair and hold her face to his as he licks into her mouth. The sensation has her toes curling and she presses her hips into his side slightly.

He lets out a groan and the sound shocks her back to reality.

Aelin pulls back and takes a second to process the way they’re wrapped up in each other. She can’t help the laugh that escapes her as she presses her face into Rowan’s chest hiding her blush. His chest shakes against her and he’s laughing too as he wraps both of his arms around her in a hug. She feels him press a kiss to the top of her head and she allows herself to rest deeper into his chest.

“Let’s get some sleep,” He says into her hair.

Somehow she manages to drift off, with her hand stretched across the bed towards him. His fingers in the same place brushing against hers.

Aelin wakes up before him in the morning and untangles herself before he has a chance to wake up and realise the position they’re in again.

Aedion and Lysandra arrive in time for dinner and Aelin spends ten minutes in the kitchen with her friend screaming about the ring. She hasn’t seen them since they announced the engagement and she’s happy for the two of them, she really is, and she couldn’t be more excited about the wedding.

Lysandra however, is far more interested in the story of Aelin and Rowan.

“How long has this been going on?” Her friend hisses through a whisper.

“Not long, it started about October.”

They had arranged their story before they had left their apartment. They could keep the bulk of it pretty generalised, spinning a story about how they had both realised their feelings for each other and things had just progressed from friendship, but they had sorted out dates so not to trip up.

Aelin shrugs when Lysandra grins, her eyes full of unadulterated glee.

“And you kept this a secret from me because?” Lysandra demands.

“I don’t know, it’s new. Don’t make a big deal.”

“Don’t make a big deal?” Lysandra scoffs. “This is you and Rowan. I have been waiting for this for years.”

“No you haven’t.” Aelin is definitely blushing.

“I have,” Lysandra nods dramatically. “Aedion too. We’ve discussed it.”

Aelin wants the ground to open up and swallow her. Aelin has been thinking about it for years, but she didn’t realise it had ever crossed anyone else’s mind. She doesn’t dare let herself consider the possibility that it has crossed Rowan’s mind.

“Stop,” is all she manages to say before they’re joined in the kitchen by Aedion and Rowan. Aedion sidles up around Lysandra and presses a kiss to her cheek as he wraps his arms around her waist. Aelin smiles at the display and feels Rowan rest his own hand at her hip.

His hand is so warm and she leans back into his chest as Aedion and Lysandra smile at them. Rowan’s fingers flex on her hip and she looks up to see him smiling down at her.

They haven’t discussed their kiss from last night, nor have they kissed again, but it feels good to have him here like this. It feels like it could be real.

Aelin shakes the thought out of her head as her parents join them in the kitchen.

Aelin’s mum has her hands pressed over her mouth at the sight of the two pairs.

“Ah,” She sighs looking as if she could be about to cry. Aelin watches her dad lift a hand to her shoulder as he smiles at Aelin.

“Look at all of you,” Aelin’s mum says. “Let me get a picture to remember.”

Evalin pulls out her phone and Aelin steps across to settle next to Lysandra and Aedion, still wrapped up in each other. She feels, rather than sees, Rowan follow.

Evalin lifts the phone, but pauses. “Rowan, get closer to Aelin.” She waves her hand in the air, gesturing for him to step further into the frame. He does, but still pauses at her side.

“Rowan, son,” Her dad begins with a grin. “It’s alright, you don’t have to be so proper.”

Aelin looks up to him in time to see him cover his wince with a brittle smile. When his eyes flicker down to her it softens and he slides his arm around her waist. It feels too good pressed into him like this, like he could hold her together, like he could hold her forever.

She lifts her hand to rest it over his own at her side.

The warmth of his hand on her waist has her blood pumping faster, it’s like she’s a teen again. She’s never been so easily flustered by anyone since she was younger. No one has ever made her heart beat like Rowan does, no one has ever electrified her skin at their touch like he does.

Aelin smiles back up at him, a little lost in his gaze.

“Beautiful,” Aelin’s mum cries and the photo is taken.

Aelin shakes herself and ignores her dad’s knowing look. Rowan’s hand is gone from her waist already and she misses it already.

Inviting him here like this was a mistake.

Later she spies her mum’s phone on the side and sneaks onto it to send the photo to herself. Aedion and Lysandra are grinning sweetly at the camera, but the sight of herself and Rowan takes her breath away.

She’s wrapped up in his arms as he looks down at her. The smiles they wear as she looks up at him are a little dreamy, both too lost in each other to realise the photo is being taken. She’d believe it was real.

She wishes it was.

They don’t talk about the kiss. And beyond brief kisses to her cheek when presents are exchanged, they don’t kiss again.

Aelin is a little disappointed, and a little silly. Maybe it wasn’t necessary to practice, and she cringes at the memory that she was the one to bring it up to Rowan. He hasn’t acted any different with her though after the kiss, he still smiles softly at her when she enters the room and they’ve managed to sleep next to each other in the bed for the rest of the week without problem.

Unless you count waking up tangled around each other a problem. Aelin does.

It’s getting harder and harder to ignore what she feels for Rowan with every morning she wakes up with his arms around her. He’s always quick to roll away from her when he wakes up and realises, she’s trying not to let it bother her.

She doesn’t know how she’s going to go back to sleeping in separate rooms in their apartment. How she’s going to bear saying goodnight to him and closing her door every night.

Their bags are packed by the door, ready to leave and Rowan is defrosting the car, getting it ready to go, when her mum corners her.

“It has been wonderful to see you, Fireheart.”

“Thanks, mum,” Aelin allows herself to be wrapped up in a hug and she squeezes her mum tightly. “It’s always nice to see you and dad.”

“We’ve loved having you here. And Rowan too.” Her mum looks like she could cry again and Aelin buries her wince. It’s going to break her mum’s heart when she has to deliver the news of her and Rowan’s supposed break up in a few weeks. “I’m so happy the two of you finally figured it out.”

“I- um…” Aelin doesn’t have the words to respond to that. “Yeah, me too.”

If only.

Rowan joins them on the porch now and kisses her mum’s cheek as he bids her his goodbye. He shakes her dad’s hand and the image tears through Aelin’s chest.

She feels like she’s about to cry, at the image of Rowan here like this with her parents, at the idea that they think it’s all real, at the idea of returning to a life where it isn’t.

Her dad presses a kiss to her cheek. “Cheer up, Fireheart. We’ll see you both soon I’m sure.”

She nods as she wraps her arms around him. She’s not sure how they’re going to play the break up now, she’s made such a mistake bringing Rowan here. How they’re going to play exes everytime she sees her parents now is too much of a mess for her to deal with.

“You ready to go?” Rowan asks her, his voice soft and a concerned look in his eye.

Aelin nods, unable to find words, and waves her goodbye to Aedion and Lysandra.

Rowan is driving again, and it means she can look back to the cabin for as long as she can waving to her family. It also means she can spend a while looking away from Rowan, trying to hold in the tears that threaten to fall.

They don’t talk for most of the car ride. Rowan shoots her periodic glances, concern written clearly across his face, but he doesn’t speak other than to ask if she needs to stop for a coffee or a bathroom break.

Each time she only shakes her head. She just wants to tuck herself up in bed at their home and wallow.

Back at their apartment she runs up the stairs before him, calling something about putting the coffee maker on as he grabs the bags. She knows he’s starting to get anxious with her silence, but she still doesn’t have the words.

She’s fiddling with mugs in their kitchen when he finally corners her, unwilling to let her low mood go unmentioned. Another thing she loves about him.

“Aelin, what’s wrong?” He asks her, his voice so gentle that it only tugs her heart more.

“Nothing, I’ll just miss being at the cabin.”

It’s a weak lie, pathetic really, and Rowan sees right through it. He steps around the island to rest in front of her. He takes a deep breath before speaking, a tell-tale sign he’s about to challenge whatever she’s said.

“You don’t normally feel like this though, what’s different this time?”

Aelin knows he sees the tears in her eyes, and his expression is a mixture of panic and concern. She lets out a wet laugh.

“What’s different?” She asks. “You don’t feel different now, after last week, pretending to be more than friends? You don’t feel different now that we’re back here?”

Rowan glances away from her and she misses the face he pulls at the words. It isn’t long before he looks back to her and steps even closer. He bites his lip, she knows it means he’s nervous.

“No, Aelin.” She shuts her eyes. This is going to hurt. “I don’t feel different. I’m still just as in love with you now as I was before.”

Aelin’s mouth drops open as her stomach drops to the floor.

“You’re in love with me?” She says dumbly.

“Gods, Aelin. I thought that was obvious.” He’s definitely nervous now, and Aelin’s brain rushes to reassure him.

She laughs, this is absurd. “You’re in love with me?”

Rowan takes a step back, his open expression shuttering closed. “Yes. I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

“Rowan,” She breathes and her hand shoots out to stop him moving any further away from her. “Rowan, I love you.”

“What?”

Aelin laughs, a little hysterical now. “We are such idiots.”

She pulls on his hand, pulling him closer to her and sliding her hand up his chest. There’s a hopeful look in his eyes that wasn’t there before as he smiles down at her.

She rests her palm against his cheek as he says, “Say it again.”

She smiles, closing her eyes for a second. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Rowan’s smile has never looked as bright as it does now. She wants to kiss him. He seems to be on the same wavelength and cradles her face between his hands.

“You love me,” He says and leans down to press his lips to hers.

“I do,” She manages before she melts into the kiss.

They spend hours in the kitchen, in the living room, in her bedroom professing their love for each other. Aelin thinks this is better than any other present she received this year.

She can’t wait to be back at the cabin with Rowan next year.

#rowaelin #this is trope central #we have fake dating #there was only one bed #unrequited love #but also secret unrequited love on the other side #the love is very much requited btw #wait another trope i forgot to mention #they're roommates!#and it is named after the yankee candle i'm burning right now #this is paced weirdly because it really could have been over 10k but i wanted to keep it short #ENJOY #rowan whitethorn #aelin ashryver galathynius #throne of glass

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oftenderweapons · 3 years

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Introducing the girlfriends: the looks.

Hello puppets! In this post I’d like to show how I imagine the OC Girlfriends in terms of face and looks, mostly in terms of fashion.

I won’t state how many times my self esteem abandoned the conversation as I made this post, so let me do a disclaimer before I make y’all suffer with me (sorry). These pictures come from my Pinterest board called “Simply incredible people”, which contains mostly photos of people that have very unique facial traits and that I use for reference. Now, ALL OF THESE ARE MODELS. They were photographed BECAUSE after hours of makeup and hair and clothes chosen perfectly for them, a set made up specifically to enhance their good looks, a fair bit of photoshop and unfairly good genetics they were put in the position of being beautified. Don’t think that these gorgeous folks are The Thing: I picked them because of specific reasons explained under each picture, and in my opinion all the guys are pretty far from dating perfect young women with perfectly symmetrical features and flawless complexion and... all of that. However, yes, in my mind they date regular, “unbeautified” versions of these women. If your self esteem can’t handle disgustingly beautiful models, then please, don’t open the “read more”. Also, you’re absolutely free to keep imagining your ideal girls and not check out this post, no hard feelings ✌️😘

However, if — like me — you are incredibly attracted to girls with pretty unique facial features, then do open. If you’ like girls, I’m sorry, you might have one (or more) new crush(es) after this post.

Now, all of the girls have Asian traits — because according to my plots and headcanons, (which you can find in my masterlist) the guys have always met their s/o while in Seoul/Korea and also because I’ve always imagined the girls Asian. However, I’m not saying that they like these specific types or looks, or that they’ll end up with a person with traditionally Asian traits: I am simply assuming in statistic terms. Also, since I write memberxFem!reader, they’re obviously all girls.

I only know two of the people inserted here (that is Vixen and Kitten). I might have accidentally inserted someone famous, however that was not my intention. Also, the girls have been chosen exclusively for facial features: there is no shipping going on between real people here.

After this lengthy introduction, let me move on to the real deal.

In case you need my masterlist, here it is! (Remember to vote for next prompt!!! Link in bio 🥰)

Enjoy✨💜

Vixen - (Namjoon)

— The face —

Baby face: yes

Doll lips: yes

Very intense, borderline scary, November-baby glance: yes.

This is Vixen, with her baby cheeks, her sharp, refined looks and a doll-like face that mixes innocence and seduction. Top that with deep red lipstick and artsy jewellery. Her eyes show ten thousand different feelings and her face is suitable for acting, being extremely expressive: every little sensation and emotion can be found in a quirk of the mouth or an arching of the eyebrow, a little curl of the nose or a pursing of her lips.

— The Look —

Total black winter look, basic and classy, thigh-high boots for her long legs, simple, plain bags and purses, and finally a long coat to keep her warm over her dresses usually characterised by a high neck and a generous slice of leg. But don’t let that fool you: her favourite looks are oversized sweaters stolen from Namjoon’s wardrobe — that obviously fit like dresses on her —, fluffy woolen tights or stockings and comfy shoes when they go on breakfast dates, but also thick jumpers, large jeans and comfy sneakers when they go for walks and bike trips.

Angel (Seokjin)

— The Face —

Traditional Korean Beauty: yes

Big eyes: yes

Soft pink lips: yes

Angel is the definition of Korean Beauty, looking young and innocent. She could easily have the face of an idol, with the purest of charms. And her cute bangs... yes.

— The Look —

Even though her job requires a total black look, which often means pretty flats, black trousers and a turtleneck, in her free time she likes wearing preppy looks, with lots of plaid prints and cute dresses that match Korean standards, with not-too-revealing necklines and a skirt that hits just above the knee. Match it all with cute, warm coats and small bags.

Kitten (Yoongi)

— The Face —

Intimidating look: yes

Angular jaw: yes

Plush lips: yes

Kitten has angular, almost aggressive facial features, characterised mostly by the rectangular shape of her face and her jaw, and quite jutting cheekbones. She has a rough, tough beauty which can be difficult to understand but absolutely charming to observe.

— The Look —

Another one with total black, but unlike Vixen, who likes coloured clothes once winter ends, Kitten keeps the black look all year round, inserting tiny splashes of colours with accessories and jackets. Expect a lot of turtlenecks and blazers for her work attire, but also fancy shirts for more elegant occasions, mostly silk blouses that offer a generous view of her bosom.

Giggles (Hoseok)

— The Face —

Strawberry blonde: yes

Freckles: yes

Too cute: yes

I’ve always imagined Giggles with a mop of messy reddish-blonde hair, may it be natural or dyed. I know the combo is pretty rare; still, she’s a fictional character so... a girl can dream.

— The Look —

A vintage mess of prints. She messes around with flowers and stripes and plaids and colours. You could most definitely spot her in a crowd. Even when she’s working (remember she’s a vet), she has very colourful scrubs and bright coloured clogs/nurse shoes. Overall too cute and tiny for her good, her being so small makes it easy for her to shop in the children department and find even more coloured, fancy prints.

Princess (Jimin)

— The Face —

Overall cute: yes

Gaze to command a photo shoot: yes

Borderline scary both in terms of beauty and power: yes

This small girl has the power to supervise everything, you can read it on her face (remember she works for a fashion magazine and organises photoshoots). Sheer calculating, organising force. And with a gaze like that, ready to make you wither and die were you to deny her, you see specifically why I chose her.

— The Look —

Smart attire, comfortable flats or slippers to dash from a place to another. Comfy, fashionable, practical. She’s always on a rush from an appointment to the other and she uses bags big enough to hold a skirt and a pair of heels in case she needs more elegant attire for a last-minute evening appointment in fashionable clubs and restaurants. She’s more than happy to play Barbie for Jimin, letting him choose how to dress her.

Lace (Taehyung)

— The Face —

Louder big dick energy than your ex: yes

A neck to die for: yes

Eclectic charm: yes

Honestly, I think Lace is too particular — strange even — to find someone who could possibly embody her. What made me pick this specific woman was her very incisive choice in clothing and accessories, but I’ll update her sooner or later, I think. As me and my friend said: you don’t find Lace, is Lace that finds you. (Also, if anyone has a Lace to suggest, please send links 💖)

— The Look —

Black tight dresses, all the time. Tight pencil skirts and anything that screams Fifties housewife; lots of robes, unusual cuts and premium fabrics — she is a designer and lingerie maker, after all. She doesn’t follow trends, she makes them. She is literally one of those people who looks good even with the most hideous, unfashionable things on. However, the moment she wears a silk slip dress, her power intensifies by a few thousand times — do not expect Taehyung not to get weak in the knees. In the house she’s absolutely comfortable wearing a robe with nothing underneath — and sometimes she doesn’t even tie it close. Taehyung is perfectly okay with that.

Candy (Jungkook)

— The Face —

Biggest smile: yes

Cutest lil nose: yes

Very squishable: yes

The small happy bean is a very gentle bean too. She is a graphic designer and a cartoon artist and it shows in her whole being, even in her facial features. I imagine her hair not too long, soft and wavy — though the most valuable asset to Jk is their scent. And look at those sweater(shirt) paws!!! Adorable.

— The Look —

First rule of Candy and Jk’s relationship is “my flannel shall be thy flannel”. Their wedding rings will probably be flannel shirts. Candy likes to pull them off with oversized sweats or coloured jeans. She also wears oversized sweaters — probably stolen from Jk’s wardrobe — together with leggins and mid-calf socks, especially since her workplace is not too strict with dresscode. She likes oversized and layered fits, using light cotton shirts and tank tops in the summer and fleece/flannel shirt and warm woolen turtlenecks in winter. Comfort always comes first. Expect her to use biker shorts and giant T-shirts and bulky shoes in the summer on her spare time.

An extra — since I’m sooooo gay for these two

Sora Choi and Yoon Young Bae are the two models that I immediately spotted respectively for Kitten and Vixen and the fact that they posed together made me super soft (I literally fell in love with both of them). Oh also!!! Yoon has posted on her insta the sweetest picture of her with a snow bear and it was like... a sign, but also so endearing and I’M SMITTEN, HEAD TO TOE IN LOVE WITH THIS SMALL CUTE LIL POTATO. She’s a cutie and Sora has the prettiest smile I swear to God I’d give the world for these two. *bisexuality upgrades*

Did you imagine them differently? Are there any of the girls that match or challenge your ideas? Leave your impressions in the comments!!! 😚☺️

#introducing the girlfriends #bts blog #bts headcanons #bts scenario #namjoon x vixen #jin x angel #yoongi x kitten #hoseok x giggles #jimin x princess #taehyung x lace #jungkook x candy

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bat-besties · 3 years

Text

Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Remus is the most eccentric customer who visits Janus and Virgil's café. When he goes missing after talking to a mysterious stranger, Janus resolves to investigate further- and Virgil isn't letting him go alone.

AO3 10k

Huge thanks to @mariniacipher, I could not have written this without her. She let me talk about the idea for hours, it has somehow developed into a series, and the story itself took a real twist because of talking to her! Another massive thank you to @5-crofters-jams, who did a marathon edit of the entire piece for me, and has made the story so much smoother and more effective (and much less British because my original dialogue did upset her American sensibilities XD) Also thanks to @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors, who knew everything I needed about pigeon corpses!

CW: dead bird, touching the bird corpse, bird funeral, Remus levels of comments about gore and innuendo, drug mention, mention of vomiting, kidnapping and captivity, feeling nauseous from anxiety, light dehumanization, brief allusion to racist violence

Remus was...

(There was usually a little gesture there: Virgil’s rolled eyes, or Janus’ helplessly fond smile, or a disapproving look from Remy-)

....Remus.

Their anarchist cafe saw its fair share of unusual customers but only one of them was, well, Remus.

Morning sunlight threw beams which striped the posters covering the walls- old propaganda posters mixed with ads for tutors, food banks, and drag shows. There was a quiet chatter of customers, occasionally broken up by bursts of laughter or a called greeting to another patron as they came in. Kids from the skatepark sat on a pile of beanbags charging their phones, having given up the comfortable chairs for a small group of elderly butches with stretched tattoos who were now speaking with slang from fifty years ago. A mother whose baby was trying to grab onto her braids was trying to feed him with one hand and hold her husband’s with the other. A college student frowning at their laptop screen and consuming coffee at an alarming rate was seemingly oblivious to the punk trying to discreetly read their laptop stickers. One of a Pan-African flag matched the full-sized one on the wall, swaying with wafts of coffee and baked goods along with spider plants and assorted pride flags. Old photos of a Black Panther group in the town, reprinted and signed by some of their patrons, were framed proudly on the walls.

Since everyone had been served, Virgil was taking a few breaths to check over the register and prepare for the next rush. The rhythm of checking, preparing, and letting the background chatter fade into the background blended into a pleasant, thoughtless routine. Cups out. Setting out more sandwiches. Look over the register. Maybe get something from the back-

“Morning, shitwad!”

Virgil ducked under the counter as something thumped into the coffee machine behind him, and a few of the regulars laughed in good nature.

“Oh, good morning, darling,” Janus replied smoothly, appearing from the kitchen. He was wearing a yellow shirt which contrasted with his deep brown skin perfectly, as well as a bowler hat and dapper bow-tie. He pulled plastic gloves over his hands with all the elegance of a debutante preparing for a ball.

There was a shrill wolf whistle. “Those are some sexy wrists!” was the next comment, followed by a squawking laugh, and Virgil rolled his eyes as his friend brought a flustered hand up to adjust his collar. Every day, he faced the deep attraction between the most sophisticated person he knew and the most outlandish, and he didn’t know which was more obnoxious. As Virgil popped back up, Janus reached over to the projectile on the back counter. It was the small, feathery body of a dead pigeon, carefully wrapped in cling wrap.

Virgil gave Janus a long-suffering look and got out a bottle of disinfectant. “Morning, Remus,” he grumbled, despite his irritation. “What can I get for you today?”

“My friend died at 3am last night,” he replied instead. “I need to store her in your fridge until you both get off work, and then we’ll hold her funeral!”

When they were alive, Remus treated the pigeons as gently as they did each other-

That is to say, he was ruthlessly protective of chicks, ready to grab and move anyone encroaching on territory, and, if pecked, was fully ready to bite back. Still, at his two-tone whistle a whole flock of assorted birds would fly down to meet him. His eyes would shine bright as they flew around him like a feathered whirlwind, and settled on the surfaces all around him like a hopeful congregation as he fed them with whatever he had. Despite their number, almost all had names and ascribed personalities.

Exactly how he could tell the difference between two seemingly identical pigeons Virgil had no idea, and he wasn’t entirely sure that Remus wasn’t fucking with him about it.

“Why did you throw her if you’re trying to preserve her?” Virgil said, but he tried to keep the frustration out of his voice. In fairness, it didn’t look too damaged by the blow. It would take a lot to change the kindness Remus showed the doves, as roughly as he showed it.

“I thought you’d catch her, emo! It would have been a beautiful moment!” he protested, throwing his grey eyes open wide.

Virgil took a deep breath and nodded. “You know what? Yeah, maybe it would have been. But you forget-”

“Fight or flight,” Remus filled in. He shrugged. “I guess that makes sense.”

As usual, he was dressed in as many layers as he could be, with only a hint of pale skin showing on his face and through a pair of fingerless gloves he had cut himself. Everything else was an amalgamation of black and brown leather, denim, flannel, a puffy coat, a long flowing skirt in leopard-print, and fishnet tops over cotton T-shirts, leaving barely any Remus-outline at all. It didn’t matter what the weather was; his outfit might change components, but it never revealed so much as his neck.

Everyone had their reasons, Janus would quietly say at almost anything their customers said or did. It wouldn’t have crossed their minds to ask why he covered himself so much, but it was something Virgil couldn’t help but wonder about sometimes.

Maybe Janus was right and Remus was handsome, but his face was so obscured by his moustache, stubble, and makeup in purple and green- or whichever colours he felt like- that he seemed to be aiming for ‘gives you a headache after you look at him too long’ more than anything else.

His hair was almost literally a bird’s nest. He had completely rejected offers of a hairbrush or a comb, insisting he preferred it the way it was. The third co-owner of the cafe, Remy, with whom he was staying at the moment, had made many attempts to detangle his hair, all of which had been met with screaming and gnashing of teeth. After each clash, Remy would send Virgil a barrage of complaints by text. But while Janus had offered for Remus to stay at his own apartment, Virgil and Remy had made a mutual decision to save them from 24/7 pining by volunteering instead. Janus had refused even considering dating him the very first day he had barged his way into the cafe- and into its founder’s affection. As long as Remus came to them for food and shelter, it would be an unfair balance of power.

Remus reached into an inner pocket of his coat and slid a purple pin with a spider silhouette on it over to Virgil. “You could stab this into those big brown eyes of yours,” he said, widening his own at the barista.

“Sweet, thanks,” Virgil said, pinning it onto his apron string. It did match with his spider-web hair design. “Then I won’t have to look at Janus getting flustered any more.”

Remus grinned at Janus, who was trying to act as if he’d been so invested in carefully holding the pigeon that he hadn’t heard. He leaned on the counter and dropped his voice into a stage-whisper. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. “I think he’s sexy.”

“That’s disgusting,” Virgil whispered back. “I’m going to throw up in your coffee.”

He shrugged. “I’d still drink it. Then I’d just be able to judge you based on your stomach bile.”

“You’d be so fucking impressed by my stomach bile,” Virgil retorted. “It’s so acidic from anxiety it would kill you immediately.” He turned to start wiping down anywhere the pigeon had even possibly touched.

“Bartender!” Remus yelled in an exaggerated English accent, banging on the counter. “Bartender! I would like a coffee and a sandwich, please!”

“One moment, my dear,” Janus said in a more passable impression, opening up the freezer door and placing the tiny corpse into an empty ice-cream container well away from the rest of the food. “I’m just cryopreserving- what’s her name?”

"Her name is Loki,” Remus supplied, his voice dropping to a matter-of-fact tone which was surprisingly tender coming from him. “She's good at stealing chips from tourists. And flying and shitting at the same time.”

Janus threw away his gloves, thoroughly washed his hands, then made a small note: "Loki: not for consumption." He glanced up at Remus so he could see the note, who repaid him by throwing his head back so he could laugh. Janus' mouth quirked into a snicker too, and the rest of the coffee shop seemed to fall away from the two looking at each other.

"We're going to get a violation," Virgil interrupted, because that was the expression of a Janus who would complain and pretend not to pine for hours after Remus left. He turned on the coffee machine to hopefully distract from the moment. "It's a dead fucking animal."

"So is the rest of the meat," Janus dismissed without looking at him. "And it is wrapped up and away from the rest of the food."

Ever since Virgil had joined the team and the cafe had begun to establish itself as a firm success, the city council had done everything in its power to shut it down. Each time, the cafe had won, even if their most recent fight was one of the most nerve-racking experiences of his life, and their personal lives had been dragged through the dusty carpet of every courtroom in the city. Each step of the way, Janus insisted that the risk was worth it.

After all that, Virgil was not letting the cafe close on account of a dead bird, as skilled a thief as she might have been.

"It’s a pest animal you let in here," he insisted.

Janus dismissed him with a shrug. "Come now, so is Remus."

The customer grinned. "You flatter me, rattlesnake." His eyes traced Janus' face as they scrunched up with joy. "Can you tell me about Dodgy Knees again?"

He closed his eyes as if pained. "Diogenes! Diogenes! I'll break your knees if you mispronounce-"

"Kinky!"

He rolled his eyes fondly. “Oh, is that so?”

So Virgil tried to ignore the disaster scenario of the cafe being shut for good, fixed a cup of coffee and a sandwich for Remus, and somehow got caught into a conversation about the pros and cons of leaving society to go feral in the woods.

“No, I do agree, but wolves-”

The door rattled, and an older white man with salt-and-pepper hair and a pinstripe suit walked in. He wasn’t entirely out of place amongst the clientele, but he honestly looked more like the businessmen in some of the cartoons Janus had papered one wall with. Remus ignored the bell as he leant his elbows on the counter, gesturing with his sandwich as he talked to Virgil while the barista came up to the register.

“How can I help you today?” Virgil asked the man, who was glancing around the decor. That type of customer was almost certainly drawn by the coffee, all blends hand-picked by Remy.

“I’ll be in and out in just a moment,” he replied with a small smile, and Remus stopped talking. “An espresso to go, please.”

Virgil nodded. “Sure, a moment-”

A blush crept up Remus’ cheeks, and he ducked his head with uncharacteristic shyness. As the man caught his eyes his entire expression softened, the hard lines of his face seeming to melt as his lips parted slightly, like he would say something. But, for once, he was speechless.

Janus looked as though he had been slapped in the face. “Are you acquainted?” he asked, in such a casual tone that Virgil knew he was deeply hurt. He arched an eyebrow as he waited for an answer.

“I- yes, I believe we are,” the customer gave a genial smile in return, his eyes fixed on Remus’. “Some time ago.”

Janus’ eyes narrowed. “Where do you know him from, Remus?”

There was a crinkle of plastic and leather as Remus shrugged. “Long story,” he said distantly.

Virgil slid a cup of coffee over to the man, who tapped a black card to the card reader and gave him a quick smile. “Keep the change,” he quipped. It was a tip some ten times greater than their recommended 20%.

“Thanks,” Virgil mumbled, but his focus was on his friend, who was drifting out of the door, as he tended to do at the end of a conversation. “Hey, Remus, we’ll see you later?” he called after him.

“Sure, Virgey!” he replied, giving him a quick grin before he held the door for the businessman, and the two of them walked out together. The older man ducked his head to whisper something into his ear, and Remus laughed and linked their arms as they headed into the street.

As soon as the door swung shut, a cloud settled over Janus’ expression. “Well,” he said, adjusting a sandwich which was just slightly out of line with the rest. “They say a stranger is a friend you haven’t met yet. It takes all sorts. To each, indeed, their-”

Before he could utter another saying, Virgil interrupted with a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure it’s not what it looks like.”

“And what does it look like?” Janus asked caustically. “Remus was acting unusually, yes?”

“Sometimes people get nervous,” he ventured. “If they like someone-” There wasn’t a single trait Remus said wasn’t his type; a silver fox with money was as good as any.

“Don’t say ‘like’, it’s so middle school,” he snapped, and Virgil flinched at the tone in his voice. He grabbed a cloth and headed over to a table which some regulars he knew were just vacating to wipe it down. Poor Loki’s funeral was going to be a tense event.

Except, as night fell and the cafe began to glow with the golden lights and the warmth of the ovens, and as Remy arrived to help them with the evening rush, Remus didn’t show up for the body in their freezer.

The brief liveliness Janus had shown bustling between the kitchen and the front faded as the final family trickled out. He waved away most of their offered money, seeing as it was a birthday party and he knew them, and Remy and Virgil made meaningful eye contact but didn’t protest.

As they closed, Remy filled the awkward silence with chatter about the men he was dating, the new hair product he had tried, the fact Remus never washed up when he was told to, and he was, like, so sick of it-

But no Remus appeared to defend himself, even after they left half-an-hour late and each one tried to call him.

He didn’t appear at Remy’s to sleep overnight, and he didn’t come into the cafe at all the next day.

That next night, Janus disappeared into the back, leaving Virgil to clean up by himself.

His stomach was upset, and he couldn’t help but think about that man over and over.

Long story- what exactly did “long story” mean?

Remy used the phrase when it really was a complicated story full of exes and rumours and friends of friends-

Virgil used it when he was asked why he didn’t speak to his family any more.

But he’d never seen Remus look like that before, and the guy had seemed nice- and there was an obvious suggestion for why his friend was busy overnight.

He realised he’d been wiping down the same table for the past five minutes.

“Virgil,” Janus said quietly behind him.

“Yeah?” he turned, and his brow immediately furrowed at his friend’s sombre expression.

He had his phone in one hand, and his hat in his other. “I’m going to ask you for a favour,” he said slowly. “You are quite free to decline it.” He paused. “I want to go to the house of the man who Remus went out with, and check that he’s alright.”

“I...don’t know that’s a good idea,” he said, twisting the spider badge on his apron so he could avoid the weight of his friend’s expression. “I mean...it could be an invasion of Remus’ privacy, if that was an old friend or-” Scared of causing further upset, he tilted his head to fill in ‘something else’.

“Yes, I know.” He sighed, looking out into the night through their plate-glass windows. “You know I’m not one for hunches-”

“Eh, you turned out a guy for being an undercover cop in like two seconds because he asked about ‘The Antifa’-”

Janus gave him a look with almost the level of exasperated fondness Remus engendered, and Virgil fell silent.

“I’m not one for hunches, but I’m usually right when I have them, then,” he finished lightly. “I have a very bad feeling, and a Google Search for anyone in the town who could possibly have a black card doesn’t make me feel any better.”

Anxiety coagulated in his stomach, but he tried for his final hope. “Are you sure it’s not...jealousy?”

He gave him a long, tired look. “The thought has never even been a worry of mine,” he said drily. “Still, I can go by myself, and make my own self a bother, worse, a fool.”

And it wasn’t really a question at all whether Virgil would let that happen. “Two of us is just a bother,” he replied with a confidence he didn’t feel, unclipping his badge from his apron and slipping it into his hoodie pocket.

Janus hung up his hat and put on a neat suit jacket over his outfit. “Thank you, really-”

He shook his head, opening the door so that a rush of petrichor and tarmac washed out the pervasive smell of coffee and food from the cafe. “Let’s go.”

They walked out into the night, still damp from the earlier rains. The lights of the shops around them reflected against the wet tarmac, and music pumped out of passing cars giddy with the promise of the coming weekend. They headed to the bus stop, Janus politely greeting every person they passed, and Virgil ducking his head so he didn’t have to. He didn’t know if the people who replied were familiar to his friend from the neighbourhood, or just trying to be polite in turn.

As soon as the bus stopped with a hiss of steam, Janus led him down to the back, and sat by the window, checking the map on his phone again. “It will be some time,” he said. “But, I ask you to be patient.”

“Course.” Virgil rested his head on Janus’ shoulder and closed his eyes. “Just tell me the stop before and I’ll be...right with you.” Moving vehicles lulled him to sleep anyway, and he would just worry the whole way otherwise.

“Of course.” Janus wrapped an arm around him, so he wasn’t jolted as the bus started again.

As Virgil dozed in fits and starts, the window changed from views of convenience stores and fast food shops to blocks of apartments, to anonymous offices and retail outlets, to high-walled parks, and then houses set back from the road by sweeping drive-ways or pavements almost as wide as the road was. Finally, his head was jostled off Janus’ shoulders, and he blinked as the stop dinged, too loud after the fog of sleep. Outside, it was pitch black but for the pools of light beneath the streetlights, and the golden glow which the mansions kept far behind barred gates.

They stumbled off the bus, and Janus checked his phone just once more before they headed off down one of the identical sides of the road.

Virgil pulled his hoodie close around him against the night chill. He considered putting his hood on to protect his ears from the nipping wind, but they were already two black men alone in a very white neighbourhood. It wasn’t worth it when his stomach was already rolling with anxiety. He rubbed his thumb over the badge in his pocket and tried to breathe the cold air in 4-7-8. They walked over empty roads, past rows and rows of similar houses, until they turned a corner and cars lined the road, piling into a single driveway which was illuminated like a Christmas lights display. A few fancily-dressed guests stood by the cars, but most of the noise came from inside. The house towered even its neighbours, and was built in the faux-Classical style which he hated.

Janus checked the address against his phone, then nodded. “That’s it. What did you call those, again? False temples?”

“Temples to dumb rich Americans and bad architecture,” Virgil supplied with a quirk of his lips.

“Quite right,” he replied, assessing the entrance. “And in all likelihood, Remus is stuck inside with his…”

“Yup.” He looked between his own patchwork hoodie and Janus’ dapper suit. “Maybe you could sneak in, but I definitely wouldn’t fit in.”

He straightened, and adjusted his bowtie. “Then we’ll go around the back,” he replied.

Virgil shook his head. “Nope, nope, nope, that’s- Jesus Christ, no, that’s a great way to get arrested or even shot. No.”

“Virgil,” Janus said quietly. “These past two months, Remus has visited us every day except that brief time after the fight over the milk cartons, or whatever it was-”

“I asked him to clean up a drop of milk and he poured the rest of the carton over my kitchen,” he said sourly, which he felt he was entitled to despite the situation.

“Yes, yes,” Janus dismissed. “Anyway- he always comes, doesn’t he? So now-”

“I have a really, really bad feeling- and bad thought, and bad everything-” he protested, backing away from the gate.

An orange sports car swerved past them, and parked horizontally across the driveway, and a young white man in a tracksuit the same colour as his car leapt out and gave them a wide grin. “Hey! Hey! Hello!” he yelled, and flashed them peace signs, to which Janus replied with a pained smile and Virgil a small wave. “Everything’s started- have they done the fireworks yet? Or the, shit, thing with the melted chocolate and it flows-”

“Chocolate fountain,” Janus supplied with the smile he reserved for his more aggravating customers. He slipped his arm into Virgil’s and pulled them forwards. “We were hoping to arrive for that too, ah-?” He waited for the man to supply his name, but instead-

“I like your hair!” he said to Virgil, admiring the spider web design. “Rad!”

“Yeah, thanks,” he replied, subtly trying to pull them backwards as Janus marched him to the door after the guest. “Your car is...yeah, that sure is a car.”

“Sure is!” he replied with a blindingly white smile. He flashed something at a bodyguard at the door- who had sunglasses, earpiece, everything- Virgil noted with a sickening thrill of fear.

“And your friends, sir?” the bodyguard asked.

“Yeah, yeah!” The guest tossed his car keys at his chest and headed through to a foyer filled with well-cut suits and low-cut dresses, champagne glasses and trays of canapes. Marble floors reflected the lighting, which glinted out from chandeliers above. A wide staircase glided up to the hidden upper floors.

“Oh, hey! Hey, you!” the young man yelled as soon as he got in, bounding over towards a woman who greeted him with a grin, raising her glass like a toast.

Janus and Virgil just blinked at each other. “Are you...sure?” Virgil asked quietly. “Remus is here?”

“I’m honestly not so sure any more,” Janus muttered to him. “But let’s not rely on whatever chemicals are keeping our dear friend happy, and start looking around.”

They moved through a throng of people and out into a wide ballroom, filled with yet more guests and a live string quartet playing in one corner. Along with the music was the trilling of occasional birdsong from tropical birds fluttering inside several oversized golden cages dotted around the room. A few others held white marble statues, but they couldn’t compare to the shifting flurries of reds, blues, and greens. Without agreeing on it aloud, the friends first went over to a small party congregated by one of them, in case the birds had attracted Remus.

“No, but then I said-” A balding man was proclaiming. “I said, Rudy, that’s not the Dow Jones Industrial Average at all.”

The group burst into laughter, Virgil gave Janus a bemused look, and they moved on.

Everyone was well-dressed, in sparkling necklaces or ties in jewel colours or even in more casual clothes, like the man from the sports car, which still seemed to drip wealth. Wearing sneakers with a suit wasn’t that fancy a look, but when even Virgil recognised that pair from an ad campaign for a luxury fashion line which would come out next month, he guessed it didn’t matter. Nobody looked at them twice. Still, there was nobody dressed in the contents of an entire rummage-sale bin with purple eyeshadow used as contour.

“There-” Janus whispered- “Is that?”

They both froze as they watched a man with a moustache waltz past in the arms of a lady dressed in black. It wasn’t Remus.

Virgil scanned the room again, eyes passing over the gilded cages, and the tropical birds and statues inside them- nobody in the crowd admiring them was any business of his-

As they parted, the figure inside the tallest gold cage became clear. It shifted position- an animatronic? He looked more closely as it moved after everyone had turned away, fiddling with golden chains around its-

“Oh God-” he whispered. “Look.”

Virgil was an avowed atheist, but if the person inside the cage wasn’t a statue, he must have been an angel. His shining hair was cut short to show of the clean marble lines of his face. His chest was sculpted too, covered in scars which looked like they must have come from a golden sword like the one he was gripping. He looked as if he would swing it into position if not for the gold chains wrapped around his arms, tethering him to the delicate bars of the cage. He was gazing out into the distance.

Most striking of all, dove-grey wings crested over his shoulders and trailed all the way down to his ankles. His white tunic contrasted the hints of pale purple, pink and blue shimmering in his wings.

It was one of the most beautiful sights Virgil had ever seen.

He glanced at Janus for his reaction.

He found only an expression of absolute horror. Janus was completely silent for a moment, struggling for words, before he gasped. "Oh, Remus- what did they do to you?”

A cold feeling washed over him.

No- those were their friend's grey eyes, and that was the shape of his face, stripped of his facial hair and usual tacky makeup. No wonder Virgil hadn't recognised him.

Compared to the usual chaotic spark in his expression, he looked blank. As if his mind was somewhere else entirely- or like he'd been drugged.

Still, Virgil couldn’t help but be drawn back to his wings; they were hyper-realistic, even twitching as he tried to tense his shoulders to alleviate the pressure of the chains on his arms. And the amount of feathers it would have taken to make that shifting, downy gradient...not even all of Remus’ flock had that many. It was compelling, but sickening.

It felt wrong to look over his arms and legs when he was usually so adamant about covering them, so he dropped his eyes and tried to erase the knowledge of how muscled Remus was beneath his usual shapeless outfit.

It wasn’t that Virgil found his friend attractive exactly, but with wings like that, dressed like that- he was a centerpiece, clearly, and even as his stomach churned with the wrongness of the display, it was a palpable effort to keep his gaze from snapping back to him. “I’m gonna be sick,” he muttered to Janus.

“He’d never, ever choose to dress himself like that in front of everyone," Janus whispered, anger crackling red at the edges of his quiet voice. "And even if he did, he’d never shave off his moustache.”

He shook his head. “So...what do we do?”

In response, Janus sauntered over to the left, took a champagne flute from a waiter, and then gestured for his friend to follow. They zigzagged through the crowd until they got closer to Remus, whose eyes remained glazed and distant.

They stopped just by him. Up close, it was clear the tunic was some kind of cotton material, and the sword had blunted edges. He was wearing makeup too, and a lump in his mascara made Virgil feel another sharp pang of pity. As ridiculous as painting them on would have been, how real the scars looked in comparison to the rest of the outfit was jarring. He was built and scarred like a fighter, and all the little touches to make him look delicate only emphasised how roughened he was. Both were at odds with everything he knew of his friend.

“Remus,” Janus whispered. The name fell like a plea. “Remus, it’s us.”

All of a sudden, the man’s eyes snapped to them, his expression melting into disbelief. “Remus?” he echoed. It was as quiet as a whisper from a crypt. “You know him?”

“You’re-” Janus’ face fell. “Remus, that’s you-”

The man almost imperceptibly shook his head. “Twins, we’re twins- you know him? Please, is he okay?” He looked almost identical, though up close the differences began to stand out. He was probably more muscular, but who could tell under all of Remus’ clothes? The main differences were a gap between this twin’s front teeth and, more than that, his eyes. Even as he looked at them desperately, there was something missing from them, some jolt of hope or excitement which just wasn’t there. Their heaviness was an uncomfortable weight on Virgil’s face.

He wrapped an arm around himself. “Sorry, he went missing-”

“But we tracked the man he left with back here,” Janus filled in. “Isn’t he here too?”

The man shook his head again. “No, I- I’ll earn more information, after this. I don’t know anything,” he whispered. “I just know he found him, and he wants him to come back without a fight.”

Virgil never should have just watched as that man walked Remus out of the coffee shop. Long story his ass- “What the fuck is happening?”

Remus’ twin tried to shrug and then winced as the movement tugged on the chains. His wings fluttered with the movement. “They just tranqued us the first time. I don’t know why he’s delaying recapture-” He took a deep breath. “Just tell him to run away as soon as he can.” His grey eyes hardened to steel. “He might as well keep doing it.”

“I will if I can find him, thank you.” Janus took a small sip of his champagne. “What exactly was the capture for, if I can ask?”

The captive glanced around the room, and at the movement Virgil cut his eyes to the side. Nobody watched that he could see. “The wings, of course,” he said with a bitter smile. “Yes, yes, they’re real, go ahead and look at them.”

Janus’ eyes widened, subtly taking in the wings.

“My name’s Roman,” he continued in a low, urgent voice. “Tell him that Roman said to run, okay? Don’t listen to any of their offers or threats. I’m not a gladiator anymore; I’m here instead. It’s...not too bad.”

As Janus opened his mouth, Roman shook his head. “Don’t talk to me too long.”

“We can get you out,” Virgil said before he knew what he was thinking. “Whatever this is-”

“Go,” Roman insisted. “It’s not worth trying to do anything for me. And don’t call the police-”

Janus rolled his eyes. “You really don’t need to worry about that.”

“Fine.” he lifted his eyes to the middle distance again. “You should go now. Please.”

Virgil gave a little nod, taking Janus’ arm. “Okay. We’re gonna go.”

“Thank you,” Janus added. He opened his mouth as if to say something else, but then let Virgil lead him away.

He steered them back through the ballroom with their backs to Roman, trying not to glare into the eyes of each of the guests they passed. It would almost have been easier if there was a big fuss and show about the captive man, rather than the chatting and dancing and gossiping with, oh, a living being as a conversational curiosity-

As they came back into the entrance, Janus began to turn towards the sweeping staircase.

“No,” Virgil said under his breath, trying to tug him back to the doorway. “No fucking way. I know you’re angry but-”

“I’m not angry,” he replied coolly. “I am, rather, curious. Because I don't think they tell everything to Roman, and we’re not going to get luck like this again. Any information will help.”

He glanced up at where the staircase twisted out of sight. If Remus was up there, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. And, despite his words, Janus was throw-ignorant-customers-out-of-the-cafe mad. Except, he wasn’t quoting memoirs of increasingly obscure activists or putting neat yellow gloves on in warning, so Virgil didn’t know what he would do.

On cue, Janus reached into his breast pocket and drew out the gloves. He slipped one on, tugging it into place. “Better for fingerprints, and more neat.” He glanced at Virgil. “You don’t have to come with me, in fact it may be better if you didn’t.”

It wasn’t fair for Janus to pull on his ridiculous gloves like a boxer about to face a much bigger opponent, and ask him not to fight by his side. Even if Virgil had decided to leave the party, it wouldn’t have been fair.

“I will,” he said, tucking his hands into hoodie paws. His heart was thumping against his ribcage as if it would break out- that was a thought to tell Remus when they saw him. “I’m gonna complain about it afterwards.”

Despite his apparent composure, it took Janus a moment too long to answer as his eyes traced Virgil’s face. “Of course.” He took his arm. “Shall we?”

He was half-expecting an alarm to blare as soon as they set foot on the first stair- but nobody noticed. They took another few steps, feet sinking into the thick red runner. The back of his neck prickled with stares, but he knew from long experience that those were imagined. Or were they? No, that was anxiety. Janus’ hand tightened on his forearm and he stopped. Above, someone paced past on a wooden floor in the measured rhythm of a guard. He gagged.

“Deep breaths,” Janus murmured.

“I hate this,” he replied. Then he forced a breath in his nose and out of his mouth.

After the footsteps faded, they kept walking until Virgil moved his heavy boot onto the polished wood floor as gently as possible. Identical two-panel white doors stretched along the hallway without any noticeable distinction, until the corridor took a right turn at the end of the row.

“You take the left, I’ll take the right,” Virgil whispered, and Janus nodded.

With their footsteps echoing almost too loud on the floor, they each crept to the far ends of the hallway. There was nothing beyond the corner except another staircase, and thankfully no more doors.

He tried the door handle on the far right with his sleeve over his hand, and it turned. He nudged it open and peeked in to see a huge bedroom strewn with suitcases and clothes, and a sparkling necklace of diamonds carelessly draped over a black dress. But no Remus. He shut it and moved onto the next.

Locked. The next was too. His hands were shaking like there was a motor in them.

He closed his eyes and leant his head against the wall, trying to ground himself in the sensation. Okay. Next one- unlocked.

It was a bathroom, all white marble and gold like downstairs. He closed the door and glanced over to Janus, who shook his head.

He glanced at the staircase before crossing the corridor and turning the handle of the middle door slightly.

A voice rose behind the door, deeper and smoother than Remus’. “Hello?”

Virgil reached in desperation for the next door handle as footsteps sounded from inside, and tugged it open in time for Janus to walk in quickly and efficiently in the rhythm of the security guard. He followed with a few strides, shutting the door behind him in with a fumbled click. The room was an empty guest bedroom. Janus was hiding himself under the bed before Virgil caught his arm and pulled him out. He headed to the big sliding window.

“Please, please-” he whispered to himself, trying to lift it. Locked, locked, oh God-

Janus searched the mantelpiece for a moment before pressing a cold key into Virgil’s hand. He tried to put it in but his hands were shaking too badly and he couldn’t-

Janus took it off him. It fit with a click.

Virgil pushed up the window in a rush of cool air. He climbed out onto the little ornamental balcony running between a few windows and stood flat to the wall, chest heaving, before Janus followed with a tumble. He reached over and shut the window while Janus crouched down below the sill. The room was still empty.

Virgil slid down the wall, trembling hands over his mouth. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears and he was sure he would be sick-

Janus had curled into a ball, forehead to the stone of the balcony.

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that.

After a while, they ended up both sitting side by side in the space between the two windows, hands twisted together. It was silent.

Virgil glanced back into the room. “It’s empty,” he whispered. “We should leave.”

Janus nodded. “One moment-” He crept towards the other window and peeked in the bottom before he dropped to the ground, hand over his mouth.

Virgil widened his eyes. On cue, his heart finished its brief rest.

Janus pointed to his suit jacket, then made a rectangle shape with his fingers. Virgil frowned. His friend repeated the gesture, and it clicked. Black card.

He so, so badly wanted to run now, but instead he crawled over to poke Janus in the side so he would move over to give him space by the window. Their eyes met, and Virgil pulled his hood over his cold ears to settle in for a wait. He kept his head down, pillowed on his forearms, while Janus risked peeking up every few minutes.

Suddenly, Janus grabbed his arm. Virgil lifted his head. He could just about see Roman standing in the doorway, rubbing at the deep red marks around his forearms, and the captor leaning back in a leather armchair holding a glass.

Janus put his hands up to the window-

“Janus,” Virgil hissed, but then the window slid a crack upwards and voices travelled through.

“Quite the party, wasn’t it?” the captor said, pouring himself a drink.

Roman nodded too quickly. “Yeah,” he said in a hoarse voice, attempting a smile which didn’t reach his eyes, which were fixed on a closed silver laptop on a side table. “Yes, it was...very grand!”

He rolled his eyes. “What did you think of the decor?”

“Quite magnificent! Like a- an aviary in a palace.” His wings were trembling as though there were a breeze running through them.

Tilting his head and looking Roman up and down, the captor spoke just as genially as he had in the cafe. “You really aren’t as interesting as your brother was. Too many blows to the head, no doubt.”

Roman’s mouth tightened. His fists had too.

Against the deep, comfortable, red-brown tones of leather and what must have been genuine mahogany, and the backs of books all bound neatly and sticking out of the shelf as though frequently read, Roman’s outfit stood out as even more fake. Gold accents in the sandals he was wearing matched the subtle gold trimmings of the room, but if the study were a convincing stage, Roman looked like a badly cast understudy.

The captor laughed. “Predictable. This isn’t the fighting pits.”

Virgil and Janus shared a look before watching again.

“Your brother’s been living like a tramp and he’s still more beautiful than you are, under all the mess,” he commented, as casually as if he was observing the weather. Roman’s eyebrows drew together, watching for the end of the statement. He brought up a hand to cover a scar along the edge of his neck. “He’s not as scraped up as you, of course. And he really-” He swirled his whiskey for a moment before taking a sip of it. “He really is genuine. You can imagine worse things than this, can’t you?”

He paused, then nodded.

He shrugged. “He can’t. That’s the difference.”

Janus grabbed Virgil’s hand. He curled over and pressed it to his own forehead. Virgil rested his hand on his back and bent to whisper in his ear. “Hey, only I need to listen, so-”

He shook his head and Virgil cut off, peeking back over the windowsill.

For just a moment Roman glanced at the window before he asked, “So, where is Remus anyways?” He seemed to freeze as he waited for the answer, a statue once again.

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” He held his hand out and Roman looked at him blankly. “The laptop,” he snapped.

“Oh!” He grabbed it from the side table and tried to hand it over from a distance.

He took it and flipped it open. Roman stepped back immediately, hopping from one foot to the other like a boxer. Virgil felt himself tapping on Janus’ back in sympathy.

The captor flipped the screen open and typed for a moment before he began to read something. Virgil felt Janus’ chest go still.

The captor laughed. “Oh, would you look at that- “Queer Eye’s Karamo Brown urged to cut ties with Salvation Army”.” He shook his head. “There’s nothing worse than a hypocrite- did you know about this?”

Remus’ brother’s jaw tensed and he shook his head.

He carried on reading for a little while, tutting, and then switching to another tab. “Okay, fine- come and look.”

He crossed the room to stand behind the man, hands gripping onto the back of the sofa as if he would fall over without its support.

“Don’t touch the furniture.” With a roll of his eyes, he reached his hand behind him, twisted his hand into his captive’s wing- then tugged. As he pulled a handful of feathers away Virgil winced, but Roman only reacted with a tightening of his hands. Then he took a measured step back from the couch.

“You know,” the captor said so softly that Virgil had to strain to hear him. “You know, Remus would have cried and cried at that.” He scattered the feathers, spotted with blood, over the floor. “That, or started swearing- and the crying would come after that.”

“You’ve told me before,” Roman snapped. As soon as he spoke, he froze again. “Oh, uh- I’m sorry-”

The laptop clicked shut. “I asked you to behave this evening,” the captor said, getting up and tucking it under his arm. Virgil and Janus crouched down further. For some reason, a tiny chip in the stone paving caught Virgil’s eyes. A tiny fissure ran from it into the rest of the solid slab. “That meant all of this evening.”

“Please-” His voice broke, and pitched high it sounded like Remus’. Janus’ hand tightened on Virgil’s until it hurt.

“Out.”

Virgil tugged on Janus’ hand and bent his head to his ear. “C’mon, we need to go.”

Janus looked up. His eyes were shining, and at the same time Virgil felt like a monster for not crying and a sharp annoyance that his friend had given into his emotions. He took a deep breath, and both feelings passed. He tugged on his hand again. “Okay, time to go,” he whispered.

He decided not to risk closing the window while the man was still in the room, just nudging Janus to the side. They crept across the balcony, slid up the far window, and climbed through one after the other, painfully slow.

They padded through the empty room, then opened the door and slipped out together. Downstairs, the last of the party guests were trailing out, either upright with exhaustion shining in their eyes to match the sparkle of their jewels, or with the help of a few discreet employees supporting champagne-soggy legs. Wordlessly, Janus slung his arm over Virgil’s shoulder, and he let his friend lean on him as they passed security and walked down the long drive to the dark street. He was heavy, but Virgil was careful not to stumble.

They carried on walking that way until the corner, when Janus straightened up and adjusted his jacket. Still, they crossed the road side-by-side and didn’t speak.

As they walked, the bottom of the sky was being washed out into greyness. The houses were unlit now, and they looked smaller in the dark. It just barely smelt of metallic dew. Virgil thought he might start screaming if he opened his mouth.

They reached the bus station sooner than expected. There was half-an-hour before the first early-morning bus. With a huff of air, he sat down on the pavement and leaned his back against the pole.

“Well that was just what we expected, wasn’t it?” Janus said lightly. He stayed standing, facing the mansion they had come from. Virgil looked up at him in silence. “I’m going to murder that man,” he continued in the same tone. “The security for that house is shocking. I’m sure it isn’t that hard. Perhaps I should let the twins do it, though.”

He nodded. “I’ll help bury the body.”

“You know, Virgil,” Janus met his eyes. “You really are the best friend anyone could ask for.”

"What?" he mumbled as he looked down. "He was a dick."

"Come now, you also broke into the house of someone connected to illegal fighting rings whose interior decoration tended to the alive and miserable.”

Heat flooded into his face. “Least I can do.”

“Quite a bit more than the least.” His lips quirked into a smile. “Especially for someone who was terrified of talking to customers a year ago.”

"Oh, shut up." He poked Janus' neat brogue with his boot. "Mr. Sherlock Holmes here figured out the whole thing anyway." His chest felt funny, and he hugged his arms around it.

"Well, Watson," He took a deep breath and decided to stop tormenting Virgil with his tenderness. "I have our final deduction- the man had no clue where Remus is."

"Really?"

Janus shook his head. “He was just looking for an excuse for Roman to slip up the whole time. Taunting him, the furniture, physically hurting him- it was all trying to push him to some tiny ‘infraction’ so he could bluff about the information.”

“Huh.” He replayed the events and nodded slowly. “Sure, I can see that. Still, we don’t know if he’s always like that. He didn’t deny the information when Roman touched the furniture- which is a fucked up rule, Jan- I don’t know if him not saying where Remus is was an excuse at all. He said Remus was better than his brother, and he gets pissed when you suggest cutting those clumps out of his hair. He must have been-” He regretted saying it to Janus, but it was deduction time. “He must have been really- cruel to him for Remus to act anything like Roman. He enjoys being cruel, clearly.”

“You’re right.” He twisted the finger of his glove. “Still, surely telling Roman about how scared Remus was would upset him. And he didn’t, so something doesn’t add up.”

Well, his intuition hadn’t lied before. “So what do we do?”

“We find Remus first.” He straightened his shoulders. “Remy would have texted if he went back to the apartment, we can assume he’s not at the cafe since he was found there, and he could have gone to his usual parks and streets but if he’s being watched he wouldn’t. So, where would he go?”

“It wouldn’t be anywhere with a lot of people,” Virgil added. “Or maybe even with a lot of birds, since they all come to him. Somewhere abandoned?”

Janus nodded. “I think we could check out some of the old warehouse districts.”

He nodded. “Sounds like a start. That one’s only ten minutes after the home one.”

They waited quietly, each caught up in their own thoughts. The bus to their district began trundling past until it slowed down for them and the door opened.

Janus shook his head at the driver. “Sorry, we’re not coming.”

She began to close the doors again without comment.

“Wait!” Virgil waved at her. “Wait a moment! Wait-”

She stopped with a huff almost as loud as the bus’ exhaust. Janus let Virgil pull him through the door by his hand, tapping his card dutifully.

He raised an eyebrow as they stumbled into some seats.

“Where’s the place we were talking about running to just before, uh, bird-friend left?” Virgil whispered, even though he doubted the tired commuters would be listening in for names and details. “And where can you bury the kind of bird friend in our freezer? And where wouldn’t be a place you’d search?”

“The forest?” he replied. There was only a scrubby patch of it outside the city.

“Yup. Look, we should go back to the cafe to get Loki, anyone asks and we’re just, you know, getting rid of the health violation in the fridge in a way which isn’t a health risk to a park or anything.”

Janus stifled a yawn. “That’s very smart.”

“Thanks, it was kinda impulsive, but-” Virgil shrugged as he looked out the window at the unrelenting row of houses. “I’m happy to be out of there.” He tucked his arm around his friend. “And you can nap until we get there.”

“I’m just fine, Virgil,” Janus replied, affronted. “Besides, I don’t want to rumple my outfit.”

Virgil gave an exaggerated yawn himself, and Janus immediately followed. He glared at him, which only made Virgil give him a small grin. “Bedtime.”

He was met with a head thunking onto his shoulder. “You had better wake me up in time,” he threatened.

“I will.” He readjusted so he was more comfortable. “We’ll be fine.”

By time they reached the cafe the sky was white and grey. Virgil waited by the bus stop, leaning his head against it as a half-asleep Janus unlocked the front. After enough time for Virgil to consider if he could sleep upright (five minutes), he reappeared with a canvas bag with a rainbow flag hand-printed on it, and a stack of three sandwiches, which he handed to Virgil.

The bus came soon after, and they collapsed into one of the back seats.

They had barely finished the sandwiches by the time they reached their next stop. They got out onto a cracked bit of sidewalk and looked at the trees rising above them. Silent, they walked forward until the concrete suddenly ended.

Virgil breathed in the stench of wild garlic and dug his toe into the slimy layer of dead leaves. Damp air curled in his mouth as though it would die peacefully there. Something chittered in the distance, and then cut off suddenly. He tried to tilt his head up to look at the trees and suddenly the vertigo of only sleeping for a few hours on the bus journeys hit him.

It was a world away from the gilded cage and the dizzying party.

He took a deep breath. “This feels right.”

Janus nodded. He tucked the bag under his arm carefully. “I hope…” he trailed off softly. “Well, Virgil, let us venture onwards.”

He touched his friend’s elbow for just a moment before he walked into the dark trees. After a moment, Janus followed, and they walked on together.

There was occasional litter, plastic bags and water bottles, but as they got deeper into the thick trees and tangled brambles along the forest floor it disappeared. Janus winced as he tried to lift his perfectly shone shoes over a muddy patch Virgil’s leather boots trudged through with ease. The trees were stout and gnarled, fungus protruding out of them like infections.

They wandered without any real direction, just trying to make their way further into the labyrinth of trees.

Virgil suddenly caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye and he grabbed his friend’s arm.

It could have been a pile of abandoned clothes and torn out feathers-

But there was a glimpse of leopard print, and the vague outline of wings, and a low crooning coming from the figure curled there.

Janus crouched down six feet away from him, laying Loki’s bag by his side. “Remus,” he said so softly that Virgil barely heard it. “Remus, it’s Janus.”

Remus froze. Then his wings curved up around him. They were a lot taller than Janus was crouching. A pair of grey eyes came up to meet Janus’. His lips parted as he looked over the two of them. His purple and green makeup was smeared together until it looked like a black eye, and even his moustache seemed to have its own case of bed-head.

“We-” Virgil cleared his throat against a sudden lump. “Well, Janus, mostly, he found the guy’s house? And we went there, and, uh, we were worried about you so we looked.”

His eyes widened.

“We found your brother,” Janus said in a quiet voice. “Roman. He told us to tell you that he wasn’t a gladiator any more; he was there instead. That it, uh, wasn’t too bad.”

For a moment, Remus stopped breathing. Then he brought his hands up to his head, slumping his shoulders and letting his wings wrap around himself. “Bullshit,” he said hoarsely. “What else did he say?”

Janus bit his lip. “He told you to run away as soon as you could, and not to listen to anything they offered or threatened.”

Remus made a strangled yelping laugh which set Virgil’s teeth on edge. His wings were trembling so much that there was a slight breeze on his face. “Roman’s saviour goddamn hero bullshit-” He twined his fingers into his hair and started tugging. “He’s not- fuck,” he winced as he caught a matted section. “Not pathetic enough for that job.”

Janus tried to reach a hand out to untangle his hands from his hair, but Remus only stilled and leaned his head into his glove. Janus gently tugged at his wrist, but Remus wrapped his fingers around his hand and held it to his hair.

“Dude, you’re not pathetic. You broke out of that place all by yourself?” Virgil found his voice off-putting in the silence, but he kept speaking. “That’s hard. And you hid in the same town, in plain sight, for ages. And-”

“I ran away,” Remus said into his knees. “And I knew he’d get punished or die. He had to fight people. All goring out eyeballs and pulling out guts by the handful. Or the clawful. Depended on what kind of people were captured.”

“There are more people like you?”

He shrugged and, just like his brother, the movement made his wings move. “With the weird animal thing? Oh, sure. I would rather have a tentacle dick but you get what you get.” He spoke without humour.

Janus pressed a tiny kiss to the back of his hand, not seeming to care about the smear of dirt on it. “Darling, I’m sure you’re well enough endow-”

“No!” Virgil yelled, holding his hands up. “I have risked myself too many times today for you two to have to listen to that from you.”

Remus shrunk back further into a ball. “Sorry.”

For a moment Virgil was struck genuinely speechless. Then his brow furrowed. “Hey, no, I was just teasing.”

Janus turned to glare at him. He widened his eyes in response. Maybe he should have guessed Remus would be more delicate, but, well, it was Remus.

“Anyway, it’s okay, alright?” he attempted.

“Yeah, sure.” He lifted his head and smudged his makeup even more with the heel of his hand. “Fine.”

Virgil pulled the third sandwich out of his pocket and handed it over. “Figured you’d want that.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

Remus took it and began to carefully undo the wrapping. He took a small bite of the corner. “Mom and Dad are normal but Roman and I just were just born this way- oh there ain’t no other way,” he sang as he shimmied his wings. “But we lived in the middle of nowhere, and we stayed at home our whole lives, even though we talked a lot about hiding ourselves so that we could move. We kept ourselves to ourselves and we had a farm.” He threw his crust to the forest floor, seemingly by habit of having his flock around him. “Hope they didn’t search there for me; that would suck. Our parents saw us get captured, so at least they know what happened.”

Janus nodded as he listened. “How long ago was that?”

“Two years.” He stuffed the rest of the sandwich into his mouth.

“Goodness,” he said softly. “I can’t imagine.”

The corners of Remus’ moustache twitched up into a smile. “Nah, you couldn’t. Thanks,” he said through the remains of his sandwich.

Virgil waited for him to finish eating.

“We brought Loki with us, in the bag,” he said. “We figured it would be a good cover, and we can hold the funeral here.” He reached into the bag to pull out a trowel. They definitely hadn’t had one in the cafe, so Janus must have stored it there after Remus disappeared.

Janus reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and drew out a bag of classic Lays. He handed them over to Remus. “I do hope the flavour’s alright. I think it’s a classic.”

“Perfect,” he muttered. He stumbled up to his feet with a wince, holding his wings out for balance. Even without them fully spread out, the wingspan blocked the entire section of tree behind him. He rolled his shoulders back and flapped his wings.

Both of them stared.

Remus grinned and widened his eyes. “I can fly, you know. I could shit on you midair like-” All at once, his face crumpled and he held a hand up to his mouth. “Sorry, it all hit me again,” he said with a voice like sandpaper.

Virgil put his hoodie sleeve over his mouth as he swallowed back a guilty laugh. He started digging into the soft forest soil to distract himself.

He heard a flutter of feathers- had he been missing that under the whisper of all Remus’ shifting clothes before? - and then sobbing into a suit jacket. It was kind of scratchy on your face, Virgil knew, but it hid tears pretty well. He moved his whole shoulder into his digging, watching a depression form as the other two murmured words of upset and comfort to each other.

“I thought it was you,” whispered Janus against the shell of Remus’ ear. “And- my heart just stopped.”

“I wish it was.” Remus leant his forehead against Janus’ chest.

“But then how would I hold you, hm?” he replied, and there was the brush of fabric on fabric. “We’ll get him out.”

“You promise?” Remus said, and Virgil’s hand clenched around the handle. It wasn’t a good idea to-

“Promise. Split my chest open with a pickaxe and hope to pickle my heart.”

There was a wet laugh. “Kinky.”

“Come now, that was romance as well as kink.” His best friend’s voice was unbearably soft.

A warm feeling settled in Virgil’s chest despite the chill of the weather. Dammit. He stabbed the trowel into the ground again, ignoring the wetness in his own eyes.

He kept digging, until a set of feathers nudged into his face. “Did you poke me from all the way over there?” Virgil asked incredulously. Remus’ wing was as wide as he was tall, and he used it to poke him in the cheek again. It was a little disconcerting to see how much it moved like, well, a limb of his.

A feather brushed over the tears on his cheek. The wing retracted, and Remus came over to kneel by him and take the trowel. He sunk it into the ground, gouging out a huge section of earth with a small battle-cry. He flung it over his shoulder rather than adding to Virgil’s careful pile and then grinned at him.

A smile tugged at his mouth as he reached for the bag. “I think you finished the grave.”

He carefully wrapped the pigeon in the canvas bag Janus had chosen for her and handed it to Remus.

He looked at the little bundle in his hands for a long moment. Then he took her out of the bag. He began to unwind the plastic wrap.

Janus winced.

“That’s not clean-” Virgil whispered.

“It’s going to pollute the forest otherwise,” he replied without looking away from the corpse in his hands. “This is more natural. Besides, they’re pretty clean birds.”

So they watched in silence as he carefully took it all off and placed her in the grave. She was still intact, though her body had stiffened. “Thanks for being here, even if you were technically using her to stalk me,” he said. “Um, this was Loki. She was mischievous, and bold, and really smart. I’m going to miss her.” He cleared his throat and nodded, eyes wet. “Okay. Ready.”

Virgil scooped a handful of dirt with his trowel and scattered it over her. It pattered softly against the earth. Remus was staring hard into the distance. A few rays of sun poked through the trees as he pushed the rest of the dirt back into place. “Should we leave some rocks or something?”

Janus nodded. “I can collect-”

“I thought Roman was dead until a few days ago,” Remus interrupted. It sounded like a statement from a scratchy vinyl recording. “Ghosties are easier to carry around than big living brothers who got jacked from murder. Whatever you need me to do to get him out, I’ll do it. Killing, going back- whatever.”

“I don’t need you to do those things,” Janus said firmly. “All I need you to do now is come to my apartment,” he turned to his friend. “I’m not putting you in any further danger, Virgil-”

“Bullshit.”

He paused, brow furrowing. “Beg pardon?”

“That’s bullshit,” he repeated. “This is the part where you’re you’re going to think you’re being really smart about everything,” he held his hands up, “but you stick to your principles too much and you risk yourself and maybe those two-”

“Thank you for your confidence, Virgil,” he said acidicly.

“Anyway.” This was a spectacularly bad idea. “I’m helping.”

Defensive, his voice grew more formal. “If this is about the court cases, or the job, I promise you that you owe me nothing-”

“I like you, and I like Remus, and I don’t like what’s happening.” He shrugged. “It’s not a big thing; it’s just as simple as that. Okay?”

After a moment, Janus gave a nod.

“Aw, you like me?” Remus cooed. He wiggled his shoulders and grinned, his eyes crinkling up at the corners.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Course.”

Janus gave Remus a helplessly fond smile. “Then it’s decided. I think we could all use some sleep, then we start this evening.”

#ts fic #sanders sides #remus sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #dukeceit #platonic dukexiety #hurt/comfort

32 notes · View notes

werewolfdays · 4 years

Note

1 from the prompts?

1. Someone stole the blankets.

Being a light sleeper means that I usually wake up whenever Nadya gets out of bed. I always keep myself awake until she comes back in case something’s wrong. Also, I soon found that it was almost impossible for me to sleep anyway when she wasn’t beside me. She didn’t get up in the middle of the night too often, so I never really minded the slight disturbance whenever it happens.

There was something different about her tonight though. All day yesterday, Nadya was sniffling quietly or trying to stifle a cough. And tonight she was stealing all the blankets, which wasn’t that unusual, but she was also tossing and turning quite a bit. I sensed something must have been off, but I figured it was just allergies or whatever. At least that’s what I’ve heard humans complain about in the past, but now I could hear her start to retch inside the bathroom after she stumbled out of bed. I quickly got to my feet and rushed to the door.

My knuckles tapped the bathroom door, “Nadya, what’s wrong? You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I’m just a little—” Nadya’s hoarse voice was cut off by a violent cough, followed by more retching.

“I’m coming in.” I announced, not waiting for any protest before opening the door.

Poor Nadya was sitting on the floor, basically hugging the toilet and sniffling miserably. She brushed her hair back, which was sticking to her forehead by a thin layer of sweat. Nadya’s skin was always the shade of a darker tan, but the ashen tone it had adopted tonight was the palest I’ve ever seen her. Her head slowly raised up to look at me like it weighed a hundred pounds and she shivered even though she was wearing a long sleeved shirt. The sight was more than a little heartbreaking.

“Oh, love...” I kneeled beside her, rubbing her back soothingly, “What’s wrong?”

“The flu, I think.” she mumbled, sounding like her whole head was stuffed with cotton.

The back of my hand went to her forehead and I could immediately tell she was running a fever. “Jesus, babe. You’re almost as hot as I get when I shift.”

“Yeah, downside of being a human. We get the flu.” She stated dejectedly.

I managed to give her a crooked grin to lighten the mood, “You sure you aren’t pregnant?”

Even with her stuffy nose, Nadya managed to snort at me like that was the most ludicrous thing I’ve ever said, which it was. Then her snort turned into a weak laugh and I was glad to see some brightness in her weary brown eyes, “You’re funny.”

“Well, we do have sex a lot.” My shoulders lifted cheekily.

Nadya shook her head, still laughing at me, which made me feel a little better about the state she was in, “Shut up.” She scolded in amusement. Then her eyes suddenly went wide and she turned her head down to the toilet to puke again.

I clenched my jaw and brushed her hair over her shoulder to hold it out of her face while I continued to rub her back until she was finished. For once, I was going to have to be the one to nurse her back to health. Only, I wasn’t entirely sure how considering I’ve never been sick like this. I was worried about somehow making it worse.

Nadya spit any remnants into the toilet and I left only to quickly fetch some water and a box of tissues. When I came back to sit beside her, she accepted a tissue I offered and said, “I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” I told her while I urged her to drink some water. “In sickness and in health, remember?”

She rinsed her mouth out and chuckled, “I didn’t know we were married yet.”

An amused grin parted my lips, “Only if you want to be.”

“Sure, let’s say our vows right here in front of our toilet.” Nadya replied sarcastically.

“Maybe a romantic ceremony is overrated.”

She raised an eyebrow at me. “This coming from you?”

I rolled my eyes and brushed her ashen cheek with the back of my finger, “Drink your water and tell me how to keep you from dying.”

Another coughing fit shook her shoulders, but it thankfully didn’t make her vomit again. After a few exhausted sighs, Nadya told me, “Fluids. Rest. You’ll have to go into town tomorrow and get me some flu medication.”

I was relieved that I got the water right so far, even if that did set the bar pretty low. “Okay, I think I can manage that.”

Her eyes twinkled at me knowingly, “Don’t worry, you’ll do fine. I’m not as breakable as you think.”

“I don’t think you’re that breakable.” I said honestly, “If anything, I’m more breakable than you are.”

She gave me a genuine smile that was obviously an agreement with that statement, “Well, there you go. I have total faith in you.”

“You done?” I asked, nodding at the toilet.

She nodded in confirmation, “Think so. For now.”

“Okay, let’s get you back to bed.” I stood up and flushed it for her, then offered my hand.

Nadya accepted my outstretched hand and I carefully pulled her to her feet. My arm went around her waist as I led her to the bed, carefully laying her down. Before tucking her into the blankets, I went to the closet and pulled out the flannel that she liked to steal from me the most. She smiled excitedly when I helped her into it and sank back in the blankets with a happy wiggle that made me laugh a little.

“Where are you going?” Nadya asked when I went to the front door.

“I’m gonna go get you some tea, I’ll be right back.”

For the rest of the night, Nadya was in and out of consciousness. Waking up to sniffle, sneeze, and cough for hours was taking its toll on her. I heard it in every frustrated huff she made after she regained breath. The only bright side was that she didn’t have to get up to go puke any more. If all the stores in town didn’t close so damn early, I would’ve gone to get her medicine immediately, but she had to endure this night. I stayed awake, sitting up in bed and doing my best to make her as comfortable as I could. She seemed content enough with having her head in my lap and being as close to me as possible.

Nadya gave up on trying to get a good night’s rest just before seven in the morning. I looked down at her while my fingers combed through her hair to see her eyes, though half-lidded, were open and staring at the wall. Hoping that she might drift off anyway, I didn’t say anything until her stomach growled loudly.

“Hungry?” I asked softly, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Mhm.” she simply hummed and nodded.

My thumb caressed her shoulder, “How about I make you something to eat and go get your medicine?”

“Can you have Toby or Skye go and get it?” Nadya rubbed her eyes sleepily, “I don’t want you to be gone too long.”

I smiled to myself, “I’m sure they won’t mind.” I bent down to place a kiss to her temple, feeling the abnormal heat of her fevered skin against my lips, and then I carefully slipped out of bed, “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Keep trying to get some sleep, okay?”

“I’ll try.” She promised.

The first place I stopped by was Skye’s room. I knocked on the door a little louder than necessary since it was early in the morning and she was likely still asleep. A few seconds passed without a single sound on the other side of the door, so I tried knocking again with more force and called her name.

“Skye, come on, wake up. I need a favor.”

There was a loud muffled groan, followed by some shuffling and then stomping feet as they trudged towards the door. When the door opened, I was greeted by a messy haired, tired looking Skye as she blinked at me in irritation, “What do you want?”

I got to the point, “Nadya’s sick, I need you to go into town and get her some flu medicine.”

Skye scowled, “Why can’t you do it?”

“Because I need to make her something to eat.”

She just stared at me like I hadn’t spoken English, “You know it’s like seven in the morning, right?”

I rolled my eyes, “Just go get the damn medicine. She barely got any sleep last night.”

“Ask Toby.”

“Toby’s working.”

“Fine.” She relented with a long sigh, “Let me get dressed.”

“Thank you.” I told her gratefully, then I reached out to stop the door as she was closing it, “Wait, it’s chicken noodle soup, right?”

“Huh?” Skye asked in slight exasperation.

“What humans eat when they’re sick.”

She actually thought about it for a moment and shrugged, “Well, if modern cinema has taught us anything.”

“Right.” I mumbled more to myself than Skye because she didn’t wait for me to reply before closing her door.

It was simple enough to find a recipe, even more simple was the recipe itself. Just some noodles, chicken, and vegetables with broth. For being so easy, it looked and smelled pretty appetizing and I hoped that Nadya would be able to keep it down. I had it poured into a bowl and set on a tray with some crackers and freshly squeezed orange juice by the time Skye returned.

“Here’s the medicine.” Skye announced as she entered the Den’s kitchen, plopping a grocery bag on the counter next to the tray I had set up.

“Thanks.” I said as I started rummaging through the bag. There were several boxes and bottles that made me think she had bought every single type of flu medicine that exists. “Um—”

Skye answered my question before I got the chance to ask it, “I didn’t know which one to get.”

“I guess I did forget to ask Nadya about that…” Buried in the pile of medicine were a couple of packages of marshmallow pumpkins absolutely covered in orange sugar with faces piped on them. I raised my eyebrow at Skye.

“Figured that would make her feel better more than your stupid soup will.” My sister teased.

I chuckled and nodded, placing them back in the bag, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

She looked too proud of herself, “Now, go take care of your sick human. I’m gonna go take a nap because someone, who shall remain nameless, pounded on my door at seven in the goddamn morning to make me go get her fiance some flu medicine.”

I smirked at her, “Get out of here.”

Once I got back to my room, Nadya perked her head up from a massive ball of bunched up blankets at my arrival. Even being as sick as she was, she still looked adorable. Though my heart still seized when I heard her sniffle and cough.

“Hey, I got some stuff for you here.” I motioned at the tray and plastic bag in my hands. “How are you feeling?”

“I threw up again.” Nadya said, sounding far less than pleased about it.

My chest pinched in sympathy, “Then it’s a good thing Skye bought out the entire pharmacy.” I set her soup down on the nightstand beside her and set the bag on her lap.

Nadya went for the medicine first, “Sheesh, you weren’t exaggerating all that much.” She noted as she sifted through the bag. Then she noticed the marshmallow pumpkins and lit up faster than a Christmas tree.

I plucked the package out of her hands before she got the chance to tear it open, “Medicine and food first. Then you can eat the sugary garbage.”

She pouted at me for a second before realizing I was right and then settled on some liquid flu syrup. That wouldn’t have been my choice, it reeked of medicinal and chemical awfulness, but Nadya downed a dose of the stuff with nothing more than a grimace. I tried to hide how impressed that made me. After that was over, she eyed the bowl of soup on the nightstand and gave me a sweet smile.

“Did you make this?”

“Of course,” I returned her smile and got back into bed, “Like I’d ever let you eat something out of a can.”

“You don’t always have to spoil me.” She said, placing the tray in her lap with an excited grin on her face, “Canned things do the trick sometimes too, you know.”

“In the apocalypse, sure.”

She shook her head and laughed at me through a cough before bringing a spoonful of soup up to her lips. Her smile only grew at the taste, “Okay maybe you can keep spoiling me a little bit… just a little bit though.”

I grinned and kissed her cheek, “I can work with that.”

“You sure you can’t get sick?” Nadya asked warily.

“Positive. Why?”

Her lips pursed like she didn’t believe me, “I was gonna say that you probably shouldn’t be kissing me right now, just in case.”

“Don’t you worry, I have the super werewolf immune system.” I reminded her, leaning back in, “Which means I get to kiss you as much as I want.”

She chuckled softly as I planted light pecks all over her face, “You must really love me if you think any part of my face is kissable right now.”

“Mhm, that’s why I gave you this.” My hand went to her left hand where my fingers started to twist her ring around.

“I guess that is good proof.” Nadya remarked and continued to eat her soup.

She took her time with it. I wasn’t sure if that was intentional or if it was hard for her to put anything down. Either way, I was pleased to see that she was able to eat the majority of it, as well as the crackers and juice. After she put the tray aside, I noticed that she had gotten sluggish and hoped that the sleepless night was finally catching up with her.

“That medicine helping at all?” I asked after I had put the excess boxes and bottles into the bathroom.

Nadya nodded at me from her blanket nest, but still shivered, “Yeah, just a bit. You don’t have to stay with me all day, the stuff I took should knock me out any minute.”

The tired pace of her sentences confirmed that, but I still frowned at her. All the blankets on the bed were pulled over to her side, even more than she usually hogs them, and she was wearing two layers of long sleeves, yet I saw her shiver again.

“You look cold.” I noted in concern.

“It’s normal and shouldn’t last too long,” she said through chattering teeth, “Just sucks that I can’t get warm enough right now.”

I gnawed on my bottom lip while I tried to think of a solution. Then an idea popped into my head, “I think I know what might help.”

Nadya tilted her head at me curiously when I pulled my shirt over my head, “What are you doing?”

“I’m gonna shift.” I answered while I continued to undress.

She opened her mouth to respond, but then shut it and I noted an amused twinkle in her eyes. Since she didn’t object, I smirked and summoned my wolf to start my transformation. My eyes ignited with gold, then my bones started to shift and pop back into place, white fur sprouting out of my skin until I felt the familiar moment of vertigo. Once I was a wolf, I shook my ruff and stretched my limbs to work through any remaining discomfort, then I hopped up on the bed.

“There’s a joke here about how you shouldn’t be allowed on the bed like this,” Nadya quipped, “But I’m too tired to make it.”

I gave her an annoyed grumble, which only made her snicker, and curled my large wolf body around her. The added heat of this form with my fur should offer all the warmth Nadya would ever need. Nadya wrapped her arms around me, pulling herself as close to me as possible, and buried half of her face in my fur, sighing in relief at the comfort it gave her. I felt more content too and nuzzled her head lovingly with my snout.

“Thanks, Jay.” Her mumble was slightly muffled and she snuggled against me before finally settling in the perfect position to drift off.

#asks #anon #ocs #my ocs #My writing #sorry this took forever for me to get to!#also this may or may not be something that I had started back in december when I was really sick #and I was going through my docs and thought it would be cute to finish cause it fits in this prompt #Jayde #Nadya #Jayde pov

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foreveralwaysanauthor · 4 years

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Just a Call Away

October 13, 2020

Prompt - Come get me

Characters - Butchy and Miles (I think I may have a problem with writing them too much)

Notes - It’s almost 8:30 and I’m already exhausted and just want to sleep haha. I have to get up at 5:30 in the morning to help my nephews and nieces with online school, but I’m determined to get this posted as this is one of my schedule days for prompts. Anyway, this is another one that takes place before my fic starts, but it will go hand-in-hand a bit with the one I plan on posting on Thursday as the prompts line up well for it.

Ten o’clock rolled around and there was still no sign of Miles. The nineteen-year-old had been gone since just before eight that morning and, while it wasn’t unusual for Miles to be gone until after six or seven due to work running late, he never forgot to call and let them know and he was never this late for dinner. Especially not when they planned on making Miles’ favorite dinner - shake ‘n bake chicken. Butchy had told Lela to go to bed over an hour earlier as she had school the next morning, but he knew his little sister was just as worried about Miles as he was. Butchy stayed on the couch cushion closest to the landline, hoping that either Miles would come in the front door or he would at least call and say where he was.

Butchy had already called Miles’ place of work earlier that evening, his boss telling him that Miles had left for home at seven and had said something about getting some shopping done on his way home. That did nothing to quell Butchy’s worries, but the idea that Miles was just out riding around made him at least attempt to relax. It wasn’t until the phone rang at nearly eleven that Butchy finally allowed himself to relax.

“Hello?” he said as he held the phone to his ear.

“Butchy?” a murmur came from the other end of the line. “Butchy, is that you? I can’t hear too well with this stupid phone.”

Butchy nearly dropped the phone. That voice was almost too quiet. Too strained. “Miles? Miles, what’s wrong, buddy?”

“I was walkin’ to m’ bike,” Miles muttered, his voice was weaker than Butchy had ever heard before. He didn’t like it one bit. “They jumped me and stole the bike. Can you please come get me?”

Butchy was on his feet before Miles finished speaking. “’They’? ‘They’ who? Where are you? I’ll come get you.”

“By that Italian market on 22nd Street,” Miles answered slowly, “It was the only place that I knew had a payphone nearby.”

“Did you walk there from the grocery store near your shop?” Butchy asked incredulously. “That market’s an hour long walk from Lealman, even if you take the back roads.”

“Yeah, my legs could’ve told you that, big guy... Wait a minute. How’d you know I went shoppin’?”

“Your boss.”

“Heh, you got worried and called him, didn’t you?”

Butchy scoffed at the teasing tone in Miles’ voice. It was funny how, even when Miles had been roughed up by a couple of thugs, he still acted, well, like his normal, playful self. “Miles, it’s nearly eleven, of course I’m worried. Stay where you are, I’m coming to get you.”

“Please hurry.”

Without another word, Butchy hung up the phone, threw on his work boots and his jacket and ran out the door, to his bike. Within twenty minutes, Butchy arrived at his destination, hurriedly parking his bike near the little market before dismounting it and running toward the payphones across the street. The first box was empty, but the second booth had the phone off of it’s hook and a slouching figure sitting against the wall. Butchy thumped his fist against the door, watching as the person slowly looked up to him.

“Hey,” Miles whispered, pushing himself up a bit, wincing as he made his way to his feet. “That was faster than I thought you’d take.”

Butchy pushed the door open and took Miles by the arm, helping him limp his way to Butchy’s motorcycle. “What happened?” he asked gently as he helped Miles onto the back of the seat.

Miles gave a strained groan, holding an arm around his abdomen as his body screamed at him for moving so much. “I don’t really remember most of it. I came out of the store and put the groceries in my saddlebags and then I got belted in the head from behind. I fought ‘em off as best as I could, but I think I got knocked out for a little while and that’s when they took my bike.”

Butchy took a quick look at Miles’ face, noting a few bruises and a thick cut that ran through Miles’ left eyebrow and thinned out on his cheekbone. After wiping a trail of blood away from Miles’ eye, Butchy pushed Miles’ hair back and put his own helmet on the injured boy before climbing onto the bike. Miles’ hands trembled lightly as he gripped onto Butchy’s leather jacket, the motorcycle’s engine roaring to life under him. The ride home went by faster for Miles than it did for Butchy as the younger of the men had zoned out while watching the scenery while the older was busy worrying about getting home faster.

By the time they got to the house, Miles was leaning onto Butchy’s back, simply feeling relieved to be in an area that he knew was safe. Butchy helped Miles to his feet, but after Miles took a few limped, stumbled steps toward the house, he stopped and lifted Miles onto his back, giving the injured brunette a piggyback ride inside the house. Miles was set down on the living room couch and was told to stay there while Butchy retrieved the first aid kit from the bathroom.

Miles laid down on the couch, staring up at the ceiling and trying to stay awake. While he was mildly embarrassed about having to be carried in, he was glad that Butchy decided to do it - his leg was screwed up something wicked and it only hurt worse when he stepped on it. He rubbed at his eyes, the sleeve of his flannel brushing against the cut on his eyebrow, making him flinch. Butchy returned not long after, placing the first aid kit on the coffee table and handing Miles a bundle of ice wrapped in a face cloth so he could hold it to one of the bruises on his jaw. Miles sat up so that Butchy could see him better, watching the older boy turn on the lamp that sat on the end table, next to the couch.

“Do you know why they attacked you?” Butchy asked as he knelt down in front of Miles and opened the first aid box, pulling out a bottle of rubbing alcohol and some cotton balls.

Miles shook his head. “They probably wanted my bike, but they waited until I was done putting the groceries in it before taking it, so I don’t know what they wanted more; the bike or the groceries.”

The two boys shared a short laugh before Butchy sighed and locked eyes with Miles. “I’m not going to lie and say this won’t hurt, Miles. If we had any peroxide, I’d use that instead, but Lela took it last week and I don’t know where she left it.”

“Don’t worry about it, big guy, I can take a little burn,” Miles said, giving Butchy a tired smile before closing his eyes and placing the ice pack on the cushion next to him. “Just let me know before you start, okay?”

Butchy hummed in agreement before leaning closer and holding the wet cotton ball a small distance from the cut on Miles’ forehead. “On three,” he started. Miles gave a short nod, taking a deep breath. “One.”

“Two,” the pair continued together.

“Three,” Butchy stated quickly, pressing the alcohol soaked cotton to the thickest point of Miles’ cut.

Miles’ slow intake of breath turned into a hiss as he instinctively took hold of Butchy’s free wrist. Butchy’s eyebrows knitted together; he always hated seeing anybody he cared about in pain. Miles may have been fairly new to Butchy’s family, but he was no exception.

“I’m sorry,” Butchy muttered, cleaning out the cut as quickly as he could before taking a dry cotton pad and cleaning away the alcohol as best he could. Miles’ grip on Butchy’s wrist slowly slackened until he was just barely holding onto it at all. “I’m so sorry, buddy.”

“Don’t be,” Miles said softly, peeling open one eye to look at Butchy. “It doesn’t sting anymore.”

Butchy locked gazes with the other brunette, shaking his head firmly. “I knew something was wrong and I should’ve gone out looking for you. You wouldn’t be like this if I-”

“Butch,” Miles interrupted, giving Butchy’s wrist a squeeze, “this isn’t your fault. They jumped me and stole my bike. There was maybe four of them and, if you were there, they probably would’ve done the same to you. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

The pair sat in silence as Butchy took out some medical cream and butterfly bandages and patched up Miles’ cut. Miles watched Butchy’s expression harden again as he got to work on the cut. He couldn’t take the silence any longer and gave a soft laugh, “Hey, at the very least, I’ve got a neat battle scar on my eyebrow now. That’ll be a nice story to tell a girl someday. I’ll say I won, though.”

Butchy chuckled, shaking his head with a smile. “Only you could think of something like that.”

Miles smiled back, happy he could get Butchy off of the subject they’d been on. “Just don’t go getting into a fight to get a matching one, alright, big guy?”

“I think I’ll leave the tough guy look to you, buddy,” Butchy claimed with a smile as he closed the rubbing alcohol bottle and set it aside.

“You think it looks tough?”

“Yeah,” Butchy replied teasingly, “just as tough as your head.”

#ForeverAlwaysPrompts #writing #writing prompt

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newinfographs · 5 years

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Fun on the Holidays with Christmas Pajamas

Christmas Pajamas are called “pyjamas”, which is derived from the Persian words “pay” and “jama” that mean leg garment. Footed Pajamas Aren’t Always For Kids. They actually started out as something designed for adults. The first versions were made when people began sewing socks to the bottom of their pajama pants. It wasn’t to just keep their feet warm; it was to prevent bugs like termites from nibbling on their toes.

Nightcaps Were All the Rage. Nightcaps were popular throughout the 19th century. The purpose is pretty obvious: to keep a person’s head warm during the winter while he or she slept. The pointed cap is long enough to wrap around your neck like a scarf, but not so long that it could choke you in the middle of the night. In Japan, it’s totally acceptable to wear a set of silk PJs out in the day or evening! In eastern China, it is not unusual in the late afternoon or evening, for adults to wear their pajamas in public around their local neighborhood.

There are 3 Types of Pajamas: Traditional pajamas, Contemporary pajamas, Daywear Pajamas. Traditional pajamas consist of a jacket-and-pants combination made of soft fabric, such as flannel or lightweight cotton. The jacket element usually has a placket front and its sleeves have no cuffs. Contemporary pajamas are derived from traditional pajamas. There are many variations in style such as short sleeve pajamas, pajama bottoms of varying length,[16] or, on occasion, one-piece pajamas,[17] and pajamas incorporating various materials. Daywear pajamas may today refer to women's combination daywear, especially in the US where they became popular in the early twentieth century, consisting of short-sleeved or sleeveless blouses and lightweight pants.

Source: Christmas Pajamas

#infographics #christmas pajamas

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stronglyobsessed · 6 years

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I‘ll Handle You With Care: Filthy Character Friday

So, this started off with a request by an anon. And it turned out quite smutty, so I just figured, hey why not!

Anon Request: Hi lady! don’t know if you’ve done this, but may i request an eggsy story of him comin home late while his wife is asleep, but he’s all scraped up dirty& bloody from late night mission much like in KTGC& so he’s tryna be quiet, but his wife wakes & jumps/cuddles into him & she runs a bath & is kissing everywhere (esp his cuts& his cut lip)trying to clean him &wipe dirt off him but while she is the moment turns sensual &they try not to forget about bath, but before it floods they get in together

So, it came out a little different love, I hope you still enjoy it <3

I’ll Handle You With Care

Waking to the sound of footfalls in the hallway, the creak of the bedroom door opening had Y/N turning. She knew it was her husband. It wasn’t so unusual for him to wander in through the night after a long business trip. Cracking an eye to peer at the clock, it was just after two in the morning. Y/N knew he’d be in the bed soon. Listening to the water run, she didn’t miss the few grunts from their ensuite. It wasn’t until she heard a thud did she get up, knuckles rapping softly against the wood, “Babe?” No answer.

“Eggsy?” Deciding to ignore any privacy she was granting him, Y/N entered and her breath caught in her chest. This wasn’t the first time he had come home looking tattered and for lack of a better word, beaten thoroughly. Tailor, he told her. She wasn’t so convinced. Coming up behind him, she took in the sight of his busted lower lip, and black left eye. There were a few other bruises marring the perfect pale skin of his face.

“What happened?” Y/N asked catching the blue-green eyes staring at her through the mirror. Again, no answer as he continued to care for his wounds. Grabbing a hold of his shoulders, Y/N forced him to face her. The look on his face was one of discomfort. Gently she took the flannel from his hand and wiped away the dried blood on his chin. She placed a tender kiss on his swollen lip.

“Y/N,” Eggsy whispered. It had been the first thing he had said since coming home. His eyes clocking her movements, glasses removed carefully by soft hands.

“Love,” Y/N choked taking in his own battered knuckles, sweeping a thumb over the cuts, she gave a kiss to each of them. Heart expanding with love for the man standing in front of her, she cleaned the cuts as best as she could. Figuring a shower would be best, she turned from him, “Tailor my arse.” She muttered under her breath as she turned the shower on, letting the water warm, Y/N returned to Eggsy and began silently undressing him.

Bringing his hands around her waist, Eggsy tugged her closer, palms gliding over the cotton of her nightshirt. Wandering down to the soft skin of her bare arse, because she hadn’t been wearing any knickers. He gave it a few squeezes while she made careful work to get him naked.

“Beaten to a pulp and you’re still trying to feel me up,” Y/N giggled, her husband’s mouth catching her’s in a slow kiss. She could taste the bite of iron on her tongue as Eggsy slid his through her open lips. Pressing herself flush against his now bare chest, Y/N deepened the kiss. Her tongue matching the sultry dance of his. She turned her face away for air, only for Eggsy to continued his kisses down the side of her neck.

Her fingers found his honey-brown hair easily, she pulled softly against the soft waves, earning a moan from Eggsy. His breath hot against her now flushed complexion. The room filling with steam from the warm water running. Feeling his fingers grazing against the top of her hips as he pulled her nightshirt over her head. She stood there exposed, naked, and aroused as Eggsy panted, eyes alight with need and desire.

Y/N observed Eggsy begin to undo his trousers, “Here.” She said halting his movements, “Let me do it.” She breathed against his lips, smiling into the kiss her husband stole. Making quick work to rid Eggsy of the rest of his clothing, she felt herself being backed towards the shower. Hands never leaving her body as her back pressed against the cool tile of the wall.

Water cascading over their bodies. Y/N gasped for breath as Eggsy made his way down her neck, over her collarbone, and breasts. Her nipples tingled as his Eggsy suckled and nibbled lightly at them.

He added a palm to each breast, cupping them, and kneading. Giving a gentle pull earning him a cry from his wife each time. Eggsy brought his lips back to hers, claiming her moans. and screams. He moved forward, pressing his hard cock into the skin of her lower abdomen. Hands finding her hair, Eggsy combed his fingers through tugging at the ends. Desire stirring low in his groin, one hand trailing down her left side, over her hips and coming round to cup her groin. Thumb finding her clit easily, circling slowly a few firm presses. He trapped her lower lip between his teeth giving it a nip before sucking it into his mouth. Eggsy smiled as her body shook with the build of her orgasm, feeling her fingernails embedding into his shoulders.

Her head swooning with her arousal, breath quickening and becoming uneven, eyes rolling in the back of her head and she exploded around his skilled touch. Feeling her body go lax as he worked over her hypersensitive clit. She felt the warmth of his pre-come against her, taking it in her palm, Abby gave him a few strokes earning an array of curse words from Eggsy’s lips.

Despite the soreness, he felt in his ribs, Eggsy grabbed each of her thighs and hoisted her up. Her legs wrapping around him easily, as he supported her weight with the help of her back braced against the tile wall. Meeting her eyes, Eggsy lowered her carefully over his hard cock. Never breaking eye contact, he began to slowly thrust up. Each movement of his hips sent waves of pain and ecstasy through him, and the combination was adding to the build of his orgasm.

“Eggsy,” Y/N whispered, pleaded. Finding his hair once again, she tightened her hold and crushed her lips against his. It was bruising, teeth grazing, and tongues greedily claiming one another. She felt his pace quicken, her lower abdomen building with another orgasm. Her body sandwiched firmly against the wall and her husband. Her thighs ached the tighter she held them around Eggsy, his fingers digging into her warm skin. Not breaking the kiss as she felt his movements slow and still as his arousal spilled over and shook him with his orgasm.

Dropping his face to the crook of her neck, Eggsy bit and sucked carefully over her flesh. His breathing slowing as he came down. He stood there still inside of his wife, the water having gone lukewarm. Yanking his face away just enough to stare at the sated look in her eyes, Eggsy gave her a soft kiss. Easing out of her gently, Eggsy let her down to stand, wincing once against the pull to his side.

“What?” She asked, concern evident in her eyes.

“It’s nothing,” He assured her and grabbed her favorite body wash and began to lather her body. Not saying anything else, they both washed each other.

It wasn’t until they were in bed that Y/N brought it up again. Their chests touching, not having bothered to clothe themselves, “When are you going to tell me what you really do?” She inquired in a small voice.

A firm kiss on her forehead and one to her lips, “Someday.” Eggsy promised. And before her breathing was evened out in sleep, “I love you.” He whispered into the darkness.

“I love you too,” She said sleepily.

@egerton-sweetie @lizziespidiepridie @original-criminal-fanfics @anantheminmyheart22 @oheggsyno @tiffleen@taronxfiction@marvelmakeuplover @welcometotheg0odlife @istandandan @leanimal90@5-seconds-of-sarcasmm @baileythepenguin @manners-maketh-taron@dragonluver9393 @xsinfulltrashx @jenloveshaydenchristensen @mmdarko@winsky1989 @fluffyeggsy @jamiemac26 @bluesfortheredj @misspygmypie @selinavizari @taronfanfic @eggsyhazcoffeewithpeterman

#eggsy x reader #smut #filthy character friday #friday smut #happy friday #sweet smut

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simpleboox-blog · 5 years

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Never Family (Chapter 1)

Summary: While hunting down the amazon warriors, Sam and Dean come across another hunter by the name of Monica. After helping her get to a hospital, Sam wants her to join their team. But Dean isn’t so eager..

Warnings: Mild Violence, slight angst. Thats it really

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Hunter!Monica, Some random ass doctor

Word Count: Somewhere from 800-1000 (sry it’s rly short)

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy. Takes place at the end of S:7 E:12. Sort of an alternitive ending for that episode. Major spoilers btw. Please let me know if you’d like more of this. I know this one is short but it’s more about introducing the characters than anything else. The next chapters will be waaayyy longer. Enjoy!

Masterlist

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Sam and Dean watched the figure crouching over the dead body of one of the monsters they were after. The amazon warriors. They came to the homebase (or ‘mothership’ as Dean liked to call it) to kill the rest of the women. But they were shocked when they saw someone else had bet them to it. Dean loaded his gun and Sam did the same. The figure immediately looked up at the sound and stood up.

“Who are you?” Dean shouted. It was unusual for them to come across another hunter. Especially on a case as complex as this. The figure walked closer, and only then could they see that it was a woman. She looked around the same age as Sam, and was wearing the typical hunter outfit, a flannel and leather jacket. “I’m a hunter.” She replied, only standing a couple of feet away from them now. She was quite on the attractive side, for a hunter, Dean thought. Definitely the type of girl he’d try and pick up at a bar. Except she had blood dripping from her chest and a gash down the side of her face. Only now did he notice her slight limp as well. Clearly she didn’t just come in and straight up kill the warriors. Must of been one hell of a fight.

“Yeah I got that.” Dean said, “but who are you?” The girl clutched her arm where more blood was gushing out. “Dean she’s hurt.” Sam whispered. “Yeah I know.” He muttered back. “My name is Monica.” She replied, exhaustion now rising in her voice. Dean knew that feeling. When the adrenaline starts to wear off. “I’m Dean. This is my brother Sa-.” But he stopped talking when Monica dropped down to her knees, blood gushing more now. “Hey!” Sam said, tucking his gun into his jeans and running over. “She’s losing a lot of blood Dean.” He said once he was over to her. “Those girls sliced her up good.” Dean said joining Sam beside her. “I’m fine.” She said, pushing Sam away and trying to stand up. “Hey. No you’re not. We’re gonna get you to a hospital. Now.” Dean said. She just nodded and let Sam help her up and walk her to the Impala.

Monica woke up to the smell of hand sanitizer and cotton. She recognized the smell straight away and her eyes snapped open. A hospital. She must have blacked out when Dean and- Dean and his brother brought her here. She made a mental note to ask the brother’s name when she saw them again. If she ever did. Monica’s eyes drifted down to her stomach, she lifted the top of the hospital clothes and saw a massive stitched up gash, with another small one beside it. She had one on her shoulder as well, and a bandaged up leg. Her face hurt as well, she must have got cut there too. She didn’t really remember much from the fight. Just blood and stabbing and shooting. It sent a shiver down her spine.

“Ah Avy. You’re up!” Said a doctor walking in. The Avy part confused her for a moment until she realised the boys must have put her in under a fake name or ID. She made another mental note to thank them for that. “Yes Doc.” She said, mustering a smile. “You had some severe cuts all over your body. Five to be excact. We stitched up three, the two on your stomach and the one on your shoulder. We bandaged the one on your leg and the one on your face seemed to heal on its own. Even though it will leave a nasty scar. No matter how many medicine’s we give you.” He was talking so fast that Monica barely had time to register it all. “Oh and we had to give you the male hospital outfit as all our female ones were in the wash. It’s alright though, you’re getting out today. You’re lucky considering a mirror fell on you. The glass must have hurt.” He continued. Wow, what a cover story. A mirror falling on her.

“Oh and before I forget, the two boys who dropped you off here gave me this to give to you. Okay bye now!” The doctor left the room, leaving a small box on the edge of the bed. Monica waited until she was sure the doctor was gone before opening it. It had her clothes in it, clean, and all her stuff that was on her at the time. Wow, those two were being extremely nice to her. Considering the circumstances. There was a piece of folded paper at the top as well. She opened it, to see an address to a motel and a room number. “Meet us here. We need to talk. - Sam and Dean (the two hunters that saved your ass)” was written there beside the address. She sighed and placed the note back in the box. She prayed what Sam and Dean wanted to talk about was good, and not life threatening.

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promiseimnotacop · 6 years

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what flavour of Gay?

*disclaimer, this is more meant to be a bit of fun. Many are based on specific people, or amalgamations of specific people I either know IRL or follow online. The categories aren’t necessarily contradictory nor comprehensive. Also I posted this prematurely before so apologies for the repetition*

Dodie bi - arty. likely has the bisexual Bob. plays at least one instrument and probably the ukulele. has dated more girls than boys but really wants a girlfriend cos girls are very pretty. Actually had a very real crush on a girl she """ironically""" made out with once. Thinks therapy is really important. took a while to come out to themselves. Warm sunny vibes

Pepsi bi - bisexual - but in the way that when the waiter says "we don't have coke will Pepsi do?" And you say "fine". (Men are the Pepsi). Disaster fashion icon. Fluctuates wildly from strictly masculine presentation to andro to strictly feminine. Activist where they can be. Light drizzle vibes

Filthy Memer bi - has had or is currently in an “anti-pc” humour phase. despite playing up the edge sometimes actually just really chill most of the time. Loss memes, Loss memes everywhere. Sometimes stale out dated memes. An unusual haircut. Somewhat idolizes/tries to base themself on Jake Peralta. Unironically plays fortnight/overwatch. Flannel vibes

Pop punk trans guy - wanted to learn to skate when he was younger. Has had or currently has a crush on Brendon Urie. Almost all of his wardrobe is black and white. Sometimes gets too involved in discourse. Either the only gay in the village or else hasn't spoken to a cishet in two years. Paints nails black. Possibly has a pet rat. Complicated relationship with family. Chilly clear night vibes

Forest trans masculine - gender is like a *wobbly hand gesture*. definitely not straight. tries to distance self from toxic masculinity but also does like working out. sometimes polyam. somehow finds a balance between minimalist life style and decadent queer aesthetics. Wouldn't mind the idea of leaving society to live in a commune for a bit. Has several tattoos and/or piercings/ and or really great hair. Pine-cone vibes.

High fantasy trans girl - WoW or some other MMORP formed an important part of childhood. Cosplay/larp/dnd ocs shameless self insert. Either has brilliant unnatural hair colour or a brilliant wig. Anxiety. Possibly also quite into anime. Friendship group tends to be more based around mutual "nerd" interests than anything else. Kinda wishes she had elf ears. Silvery moon vibes.

(original song) trans - hats. could/would never get into gym culture even if they had tried (which they haven’t). pours all their negative feelings into original songs, plays the guitar. has a pet they love more than life itself. Has a YouTube. Kinda floofy big fringe hair. Self conscious about their voice. Does art also. Has/has kept succulents. Also paints nails black. Felt vibes.

Cool science fact non-binary - finds maths and/or science deeply beautiful. more often specific interest is either in bizarre deep sea creatures of in space and astrophysics. likes wearing a lot of colour. not big into reading fiction. goes off on tangents. Has had cool interactions with young kids but generally a little unsettled by them. Bioluminescence vibes.

DIY lesbian - punk sensibilities. Anywhere between futch and stone butch but rarely femme. knows some carpentry. best combination of docs and patch jacket. Has a Pinterest or instructables account. If the circumstances arises might fall into the position of Elder Gay and teacher to the Gay Youth. Hates terfs. Likes kids. Sawdust vibes.

Moon lesbian - witch or witch adjacent. Loves and feels a profound connection to the moon. Knows more about plants than most. Has opinions on poetry. Things stored in old jam jars. Candles. Ivy/thistledown vibes.

Vintage sapphic - red lipstick and hair in curlers. has a wealth of specialist knowledge on vintage style. not particularly into pop music and feels some times alienated by it. knows shit about silhouettes and shit idk i don’t understand clothes. Into crafts and making things. Driven by a desire to help people. Colourful. powder vibes.

Oversized clothing gay man - fashion icon or complete mess? You decide. Good at bullshitting. How anyone thought he was straight is a total mystery. Piercings are hot. After coming out has gotten progressively less gender conforming and loves every second of it. Strong opinions about particular pop musicians but far from a well-rounded knowledge. Likes cartoons. Cotton vibes.

Distinguished™ gay man - eyebrows and/or beard and/or hairline looks so exact and crisp they look drawn on. Possibly are. The opposite of disheveled. All clothes always look ironed, pressed, or brand new. Has a lengthy hair care routine. Has a lot of feelings about literature. Sometimes very into vintage fashion and sometimes just very into looking good. Secretly a bottom. Pinstripe vibes.

#ok i think im done #cant think of anymore clear cut types i see #which is a shame because i did want to make it a bit more balanced #like you can provably tell im a bi trans masculine person cos thats where the weight of this falls #anyway tag yourself or whatever #original

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francoeurs · 6 years

Text

Something Real

AO3 link · . · . ·

Rating: T.

Words: 2,100.

Status: Complete.

Warnings/Content: Modern AU. Established Relationship. New Relationship. Tooth-Rotting Fluff. Romance. Comfort. Sharing a bed.

Summary: In which Jaime has a nightmare and overreacts just a bit.

— • —

Brienne was in the middle of a gruelling sword fight with Paddington Bear when her phone rang and startled her awake.

She scrambled for it in the near darkness and almost knocked her bedside lamp to the floor. A growl of frustration rumbled in her throat as she sank back into her pillow and held her phone above her face. 3:14 glowed bright white and made her sensitive eyes water.

A wave of alarm flooded her chest when she saw Jaime’s name on the screen.

She quickly answered the call. “Jaime? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” she asked in a rush.

The line was silent.

Alarm turned to panic. “Hello?”

“Brienne! Hi,” Jaime finally said, startlingly loud and chipper. “Nothing’s wrong—I’m fine. What are you doing?” he asked lightly, as if they were having a regular conversation.

Brienne sagged in relief, then glared at the ceiling, willing her heart to slow down. Her fingers tightened around the phone.

“Not. Sleeping,” she answered, drawing out the words for emphasis.

“Good. I was afraid I’d woken you up.”

She closed her eyes and counted to five. “Of course you woke me up, Jaime. It’s three in the morning on a weekday.”

“I know,” he said somewhat defensively. “I just wanted to see how you were. You’re all right... right?”

Brienne’s tone changed to one of indulgent exasperation. “I’m annoyed, but yes, I’m fine.” She squinted at the ceiling. “Why?”

“I, ah...” The line went silent again. Jaime cleared his throat. “I had a dream.”

She blinked a few times. “You had a dream,” she echoed flatly.

“A bad one. Ghastly, really. The kind of dream that stays with you for a while.”

Brienne rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. “A dream about...?”

“You.”

Her hand flopped down and hung off the edge of the mattress. “Oh.”

Jaime exhaled long and slow. “I just needed to hear your voice, that’s all. I’m sorry for waking you.”

“Oh,” she repeated dumbly. “It’s fine. I—I’m fine. I’m here.”

“Good.”

There was another long silence.

Brienne picked at a loose thread on her duvet cover. “Are you still there?”

“Yes. I—” He groaned softly and lowered his voice to a near whisper. “I’m standing in your building’s lobby... in my pyjamas. Your scrawny doorman keeps giving me funny looks,” he admitted, embarrassment colouring his words. “What’s new, Dick?” he asked loudly. His voice was muffled, as if he had covered up his phone.

Frowning, Brienne sat up and turned her head to the window. She could see even through the closed blinds that snow was falling heavily outside.

She shook her head in disbelief when a strong gust of wind rattled the window. “You drove for fifteen minutes in this weather in the middle of the night... because you had a nightmare?” she asked as delicately as she could.

“It was a very vivid nightmare,” he said weakly. “I panicked. You weren’t answering my calls.”

Panicked? Her heart flipped. “You called more than once?”

“I did. You sleep like the dead.” A huff of breath came across the line. “Fucking hell, bad choice of word,” he said quietly, as if talking to himself.

Brienne swallowed against the lump forming in her throat. Her bed frame creaked as she tossed the covers aside and got to her feet. “Give Dick your phone for a second.”

She told Dick to let Jaime up. Less than a minute later, he was knocking on her door.

She opened it slowly, letting in a draft of uncomfortably cool air. She fought back a shiver as she felt goose bumps rise on her bare legs.

Jaime’s face brightened at the sight of her. A sheepish, relieved smile quirked his lips.

“Hi.” He closed the door behind him and locked it before leaning forward to give her a quick kiss.

Brienne stifled a sigh when his lips left hers. She dug her short nails into her palms, swallowing down the urge to ask for more. “Hi.”

She took a small step back and skimmed her gaze over him. He hadn’t lied—the foolish man had actually run out into the snow in his pyjamas. A pair of light grey pyjama bottoms and an old, faded black shirt under a stylish pea coat that probably cost more than her rent. At least he remembered to grab a coat on his way out, she thought.

His hair was flat on one side and sticking up on the other. He still had faint pillow-wrinkles on one cheek.

He looked uncharacteristically rumpled and Brienne didn’t hate it.

She gave herself an internal shake and met his eyes again.

“Are you wearing fuzzy slippers?” she blurted out, at a loss for what else to say.

“Yes. I left in a hurry.” He kicked his wet slippers off, then looked down and grinned. “Cute shorts.”

She followed his gaze to her polka-dot flannel shorts. Had they always been so tiny, or had she somehow had another growth spurt in her twenties? She self-consciously tugged on the hem of her sleeveless cotton top... which had the unfortunate effect of reminding her of how flat and broad her chest looked in it.

She crossed her arms protectively over her barely-there breasts. “Do you want anything to drink? Some herbal tea, maybe?”

Jaime shrugged off his coat and turned to hang it in the closet. “I just want to sleep, honestly,” he said, glancing at her over his shoulder.

Brienne’s thoughts briefly went to her couch. Jaime had convinced her to buy it because it looked gorgeous. Unfortunately, it was also the single most uncomfortable piece of furniture she’d ever owned.

She wasn’t cruel enough to make him sleep on it. He could sleep with her. They’d had to share beds a few times before… before. They hadn’t slept in the same bed since they’d become whatever they were now.

A little over two weeks had passed since his accidental, vague confession of maybe-love and her equally vague and cautious response to it. They still hadn’t gone beyond innocent kisses and fleeting touches. They touched less now than they did when they were merely friends. It was as if they were both afraid one wrong move would tear this new, fragile thing to shreds and ruin their relationship—their friendship—forever.

It was maddening.

But at this moment, Brienne didn’t care how tense and timid and just plain awkward things had been between them recently; Jaime needed her. They could get over themselves and share the damned bed.

“Come on, then.” She turned off the hallway lights and walked back to her bedroom. Jaime followed her without a word.

Once there, Brienne lifted the duvet, then went still and peeked at his bare feet. “Are your feet cold? Do you need socks?”

He waved his hand dismissively. “They’re fine.”

Brienne climbed into bed and lay stiffly on her back. “If you say so.”

Jaime slipped in next to her. Close. Close enough that she could feel his heat and smell the fresh citrus scent of his shampoo. She took a breath through her mouth to steady herself.

One of his feet touched hers, and the tension Brienne was holding in snapped like a bowstring.

She jerked away and bit back a curse. “Your feet are like ice! I thought you said you didn’t need socks?” she hissed, curling her toes.

Jaime rolled onto his side, his lips twitching with amusement. “I don’t. It’s nice and warm in here.” He cuddled up closer to her and wrapped one leg around hers, rubbing his cold foot against her calf.

She let out an offended squawk and tried to squirm away, but he locked his arms around her and pulled her to his chest. “Jaime!” she grunted, clutching his T-shirt in her left fist and seriously considering pushing him off the bed. It would be so easy.

He had the audacity to chuckle as he released his hold on her. “Hey, you’re the one who’s wearing boxer shorts in the middle of bloody winter. Your heating bills must be horrendous.” He made an appreciative sound in the back of his throat and patted her thigh under the covers. “Not that I’m complaining.”

Brienne stopped squirming. She licked her lips and felt heat flare in her face and lower belly when his gaze flickered to her mouth. “I should have made you sleep on the couch.”

“You don’t mean that.” He ran his fingers lightly over the freckles that covered most of her upper arms. They were clearly visible even in the faint light coming from outside.

Brienne wasn’t sure why Jaime was suddenly being so affectionate and carefree instead of hesitant and skittish — not that she’d been much better — but she was almost as pleased and relieved as she was surprised. She felt like she could finally breathe again after weeks of suffocating.

She relaxed into him and gave him a mock glare. “It's the least you deserve after convincing me to buy that torture device they call a couch.”

He leaned toward her conspiratorially. “It was all part of my plan to get an invitation into your bed. Lannisters know how to play the long game.”

“How Machiavellian of you,” she said, only slightly embarrassed by the hint of breathlessness in her voice. “Was the bad dream also part of your scheme?”

His smile slowly faded. He leaned back and rubbed his scruffy chin. “Ah, no.”

Brienne frowned and combed her fingers through his unruly hair. Jaime tipped his head into her touch. “What did I do in your nightmare?” she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“You didn’t do anything; something was done to you.” He swallowed and raised his hand to her cheek. He traced the strong lines of her homely face in an almost reverent caress, his eyes unusually intense.

Brienne stared back, torn between wanting to hide her face in her pillow and wanting him to never stop looking at her like that.

“There was fire,” he continued. His face clouded with uneasiness. “I couldn’t—” He cut himself off and closed his eye briefly before offering her a tight smile. “It doesn’t matter. It was only a dream. This is real.” He watched her for a moment longer, then slid his hand to the back of her neck and pulled her closer until their lips met in a sweet, lingering kiss.

She leaned into it, her eyes fluttering closed. When she parted her lips on a sigh, Jaime took it as an invitation and deepened the kiss. Finally was Brienne’s last coherent thought for the next few minutes.

His teeth grazed her lower lip when she finally pulled away for air. Warm tingles shot up her spine and spread across her scalp, making her shiver and tighten her grip on his hair.

Jaime was clutching her thigh. She didn’t remember him moving his hand there.

She didn’t remember throwing her leg over his hip, either. Brienne’s face flushed again.

Jaime stole one last kiss before relaxing into his pillow, looking tired but happy. He squeezed her knee. “I’m sorry I bothered you for something so silly.”

“You didn’t bother me,” she said, still half-dazed from his kisses.

He snorted. “Your tone on the phone said otherwise.”

“That was before I realised you were terrified.”

“Terrified is a strong word,” he protested feebly. “I was worried.”

She fixed him with an unimpressed look. “My apologies.”

Jaime huffed, but the corners of his mouth turned up.

Brienne studied his expression closely, her thumb brushing the soft skin behind his ear. She could see the exhaustion on his face. “Do you need anything?”

His eyes grew soft and heavy-lidded. “Just let me hold you,” he said quietly. “Or hold me, I don’t care. I just want you close to me.”

His casual admission made her heart melt and her head spin. She lifted her arm to make room for him against her chest. He snuggled close and wrapped his arm around her waist, burying his face in the crook of her neck. She stroked his arm soothingly and rested her cheek on the top of his head.

Jaime nuzzled her neck and placed a feather-light kiss on her collarbone. “I’ll make you breakfast in the morning to make it up t’you,” he mumbled, already half asleep.

Brienne smiled into his hair, knowing he was no cook and she’d probably be eating burned toast and dry, rubbery eggs. She could picture him in her mind, dishevelled and stressed and squinting around her kitchen with bleary eyes.

“Sounds perfect.”

{ · · · ♡ · · · }

#my writing #jaime x brienne

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waywardnerd67 · 6 years

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Writing Your Story: Chap. 1 - Took You Long Enough

Summary: When Raelyn Nichols was approached to continue writing the Supernatural series she never knew how her world would one-day flip completely upside down when she meets the characters from her books the famous Winchester Brothers. Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel and Raelyn Nichols (OFC) Pairing: Dean X Raelyn (OFC) Warnings: All the fluff. Word Count: 2621 A/N: Alright ladies and gents, here is the first chapter of my first ever series! I’m incredibly excited and scared pantless. If you find any mistakes please let me know, since I edited this chapter roughly around 2AM EST. I will be updating this series weekly probably on Saturday. Let me any thoughts and opinions you have on this including constructive criticism (all hate can be deposited into your local trash can). Above all, thank you for reading what I write and for all the support. Tagging A Few Lovelies Who Inspire Me To Keep Writing: @waywardbaby @rosethesupernaturalhunter @carryonmywaywardcaptain @anotherwaywardsister @ladywinchester1967

Raelyn Nichols smiled as a mom took a picture of her daughter with her. “Thank you, Miss Nichols.” The little girl said. Raelyn smiled sweetly at her, “You’re welcome.” Raelyn sighed as she sat back down behind her booth. Raelyn’s rise to stardom was unusual and no one knew the true story except for Raelyn, a special angel friend and Chuck Shirley, as known as, God. Chuck was a fan of Raelyn’s novels and asked her to continue writing his series Supernatural. At first, Raelyn, thought it was a joke but once Chuck revealed his true identity who could say no to God. The last three years, she had been cranking out books every six to eight months. Now she did book events along with comic conventions taking pictures and signing autographs.

“Raelyn Nichols?” Raelyn looked up from her phone into the stunning olive-green eyes of the gorgeous man from her dreams. She smiled at him, “Dean Winchester, took you long enough to find me.” He looked at her dumbfounded as his younger brother came up behind him. “Ah, Sam Winchester. Well, now that the Scooby gang is all here I’m assuming you found out that I am writing Supernatural. Can this conversation wait until after the convention? I am kind of working here.” Sam looked to Dean just as dumbfounded. “How do you know about us? Our lives?” Dean’s voice was stern and husky. His voice was just as Raelyn had dreamed it would be.

“Look, I promise I will explain everything to you pretty boy. I’m not running or going anywhere. Here,” Raelyn handed them all access passes, that had been meant for her best friend and her boyfriend, to the convention, “you can go anywhere within the convention. There is quite the spread of food back in reception if you both are hungry.” Dean perked up a bit as Sam looked over to him rolling his eyes. “You will meet us in the reception area as soon as you’re done.” Sam said as Raelyn looked behind the taller Winchester. A line was forming behind them, “Yes, I’m not going anywhere. Chuck told me one day you would find me. That day is today. Now go before my line gets any longer.” The brothers looked behind them seeing quite a few people dressed as them and with Supernatural books in their hands.

Sam and Dean stepped to the side and watched Raelyn as she talked with fans, signed books and took pictures. Sam decided to go walk around the convention since he had never been to one before and saw a few Star Wars actors he would love to meet. Dean couldn’t bring himself to move from Raelyn’s booth. There was something about her that instantly drew him into her. She was beautiful which is obviously what caught his attention first. She had long wavy chocolate brown hair, tall curvy body and porcelain skin. The two features that made Dean weak in the knees were her brilliant forest green eyes that bore into him like no one ever had before and her soft full rosy lips just begging to be kissed.

He watched her interact with fans as she would smile for pictures and even posing ridiculously with some of them. She glanced over to him and motioned for him to come over behind the booth. She pulled out a stool from under her table and patted it. “Sit. I’d rather you sit here and chat than stand there and stare.” He chuckled as he sat next to her. Another fan came up, “Wow he looks just like Dean in the books. That is exactly how I pictured him.” Raelyn laughed as Dean shifted uncomfortably. “I know, me too, that is why I picked him as the winner of a local contest. He won the chance to be with me all day. He’s one of my biggest fans.” Dean gave her a pointed looked as the teenage girl looked to him with admiration. “Wow, you’re so lucky. Would it be okay to get a picture with the both of you?” Dean started to shake his head but Raelyn tugged on his jacket. “Of course, you can, Robert here would be honored to take a picture with you.” Raelyn dragged him in front of the table and the fan stood in between them. Emma, convention worker assigned to Raelyn, took the picture and the fan hugged them both before walking away. Dean was chuckling as they sat back down and no one was at Raelyn’s booth. “So, how long are you usually here at these conventions?” Raelyn looked at her phone, “I’m usually here for three days, Friday thru Sunday, all day. I’ve got another hour or so before I can pack up. A lot of fans are starting to leave now so I may be able to leave early. Why? You got a hot date?” Dean smirked, “Yeah, I do. I have a date with a good-looking author who knows more about me than I do her.”

Raelyn felt her cheeks burning. “Why Dean Winchester are you flirting with me?” She looked at him above her black rimmed glasses. She watched as a devious smirk came across his handsome face. Seeing Dean Winchester in her dreams or visions was one thing but him in person was a whole another story. His sandy brown hair looked soft and his broad muscular body was hidden under layers of denim, cotton and flannel. She watched as he ran his large hands over his muscular thighs driving her crazy. However, it was his eyes, his olive-green steal your soul eyes, that made her lose all train of thought. He noticed her sizing him up and his smirked turned into a smile. She was staring at his lips now as he ran his tongue over the bottom one trapping it under his teeth. Her eyes got wide and he saw her breath hitch. “What if I am, Raelyn? Is that okay with you?” he asked as she fidgeted with her hair twirling it between her fingers. “I wouldn’t hate it, but I’m not really your type.” Dean looked down at his hands nervously quickly being reminded why he was there next to her in the first place. “You really do know everything about us, huh? Every thought or feeling we have?” Raelyn sighed, “I can’t read your mind if that is what you’re asking. But yeah, I know pretty much everything about you two. Including that you tend to go after ladies who a few sizes smaller than I am and wear more provocative clothing.” Dean’s smile faded as he ran his hand through his hair. “Yeah, I’m not really a great guy when it comes to having something more than a one-night stand.” Raelyn looked at him about to say something when he spoke again, “Probably best if you just stayed away from me, Raelyn.” He got up walking away from her table. Raelyn sighed as another fan approached her. Raelyn finished up the last few autographs and pictures then she packed up her personal items walking towards reception.

Raelyn found the brothers sitting at a table waiting for her. Sam was holding a few pictures that were autographed as Dean was giving him a disapproving look. She walked up to them, “Come on. We can go back to my place and talk. It’s warded against… well everything so it’s safe there.” Sam and Dean followed her outside where it had started to rain. “Well, where’s your beautiful Impala at? I don’t feel like walking in the rain even if it is only a few blocks.” Dean pointed across the street and she smiled seeing the car. “Oh Baby, you are more than I could have ever dreamed.” She said admiring the car. Dean could not help the smile on his face as she admired his pride and joy. “She’s unlocked.” He stated simply as they all got in. As he drove down the street, Raelyn was humming her praises to his Baby. Her humming was driving him crazy. Sam turned to her, “Do you need a moment alone with the Impala?” Raelyn looked up at Dean through the rearview mirror, “Sure, just park it and leave it running. I’ll be done in ten minutes.” She laughed as she watched both men’s shocked expressions and subtly smile on Dean’s face. She directed them to her condo and lead them up to it. She sat down her bag and curiously watched Sam and Dean look around her home. “You have quite the collection of comics and memorabilia.” Sam said in awe as he looked over her collectables. “Thank you, I am quite the nerd. So, please make yourselves comfort.” Raelyn went into her kitchen to grab a couple beers from her fridge for Sam and Dean. She also grabbed a bottle of whiskey and a glass for herself. She walked back into her living room seeing the boys had taken off their jackets and were sitting on her couch. She handed them the beers and then sat in her favorite chair pouring herself a drink.

“Before we get this started we need one more person to join us.” She picked up her phone and sent a text message. A couple of minutes later, there was a knock on her door. “Come on in!” Raelyn shouted. A tall man came walking in with dark brown hair and blue eyes like the ocean wearing a trench coat. “Cas?!” The brothers said at the same time as Raelyn chuckled loving it when they spoke in unison. The beautiful angel nodded as he sat on the couch next to Dean. “You two know each other?” Dean asked looking pointedly at Cas. “Yes, Dean I was asked to watch over her when Chuck left. How did you two find out about Raelyn?” he asked as Dean scoffed. “Claire found her books online and then passed it along to us. Better question is why didn’t you tell us about this?” Sam asked. Raelyn poured herself another drink as Dean whispered over to her, “You got another glass?” She snickered getting up and getting him one.

In the kitchen she could still hear all of them talking. As she walked back out she poured Dean a drink and then shut them all up, “Alright! Let’s just get this over with.” The three men looked up at her and nodded. Dean downed his drink and quickly refilled it. “Start from the beginning, Raelyn.” Sam stated as she settled into her chair. “I knew Carver Edlund or Chuck Shirley from different conventions and our agents were from the same company. Anytime we would talk he would mention how he loved my novels and I equally loved his.” She paused for a moment taking a drink. “A few years ago, he showed up here and asked if we could talk. He explained he was leaving for a while and would love it if I would continue writing Supernatural. Of course, being a huge fan, I agreed and he had all the rights transferred to me. That is when he told me the truth about the books.” Raelyn poured another drink for Dean when he finished the second one. “He was God, the books were real life events, Sam and Dean Winchester were real brothers saving people and hunting things.”

Sam scoffed, “What made you believe him?” Raelyn chuckled thinking back on the day that changed her life forever. “He touched my forehead and suddenly I saw everything that had happened in the books. I saw your lives from the day you were born. He showed me his true face bright light and all. He told me that I would have dreams of what I needed to write. Kind of like Sam’s premonitions but not as painful and no psychic powers.” She noticed Sam flinch and Dean gave him a weary look. “Look, I didn’t ask to have all of this. I thought I would just be writing a series of books based off his notes not the real-life tales of ghostbusting. I know I wouldn’t want someone knowing my entire life story and airing it out to the world.” Dean turned towards her, “Then why do you continue to write the books?” She sighed finishing her drink and setting the glass down. “The main reason is because God… literal God told me too. I think it’s important to follow what he says, don’t you think? Also, your story brings a lot of hope and inspiration into millions of lives who believe they are hopeless and meaningless to this world. I believe if my books or your story can impact one person’s life then it is worth continuing to tell the story.”

“How did you meet Cas then?” Castiel smirked slightly as she chuckled, “It was a rough start. At conventions I have some enthusiastic fans which Cas thought were trying to harm me. First time, I ever saw him, he ran off a bunch of fans that were cosplaying as demons.” Castiel shrugged slightly, “I followed Raelyn for weeks before then. I believed she was in danger and did not know humans would dress up for fun as demons.” Sam and Dean started laughing. Raelyn loved seeing them laugh since most of the time she only witnessed them fighting or hurt in her dreams. “Are you working on a new book now?” Sam asked as he finished his beer. Raelyn looked from one brother to the next and shook her head, “Not currently. I am just promoting the current book ‘Tombstone’ which was a bitch to get titled since there’s a movie titled that as well.” Raelyn nervously looked up at the three men to see if they bought her lie. Castiel was the only one looking at her curiously but Sam and Dean took her word for it. “So, now what?” she asked. Dean stood up stretching his tall, muscular body. Raelyn bit her bottom lip admiring the way his muscles contracted as he moved his arms above his head.

“Now, we leave our numbers for you and if you have any more dreams then you call us.” Dean took out a piece of paper from a journal he kept in his jacket pocket. He wrote his and Sam’s numbers down handing it to her. Briefly, their fingers touched and she felt an electric current run up her arm. A wonderful chill ran down her back and looking up she could see he had felt it as well. His eyes wide and darken as he gazed down at her. He opened his mouth to say something but simply trapped his tongue between his teeth driving Raelyn crazy. She shook her head slightly as Sam cleared his throat, “Alright, well we should get going.” Raelyn followed the brothers to her door waving goodbye and closing it once they were down the hall. She took a deep breath in and slowly released it as she leaned up against the door. “Raelyn, why did you not tell them about writing a new book?” Castiel asked as she cleaned up the boys’ bottles and glass. “No one should know too much about their own future especially the Winchesters.” She looked sternly at her angel friend, “You won’t tell them about it as well. You know how they will react and there is no need to add fuel to the fire.” Castiel nodded apprehensively. “Good, now pop out here so I can take a shower, write and go to bed.” With a whooshing sounding Castiel was gone and Raelyn settled herself at her desk. She powered on her laptop and pulled up her newest manuscript entitled, “Wayward Sisters”.

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