#on that note where are all of my short hair luci fans

[poppicutie]

i’m sick of seeing artists draw lucina with big boobs when being flat was a plot point.

[amethystarachnid]

OPPOSITES - part I

⤷ JAMES B. “BUCKY” BARNES

ᯓ★ Pairing: James B. “Bucky” Barnes x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff, tiny bit of angst

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL multiverse

ᯓ★ Story type: short fanfic

ᯓ★ Part II

ᯓ★ Word count: 6.5k

ᯓ★ Summary: you were raised with strict rules, never once dared to break one of them but the mysterious man you meet at the bar maybe deserves a few rules break.

ᯓ★ TW(s): mentions of alcohol

ᯓ★ AU: 1920s Gangstares

ᯓ★ Request: plz i neeeeeeeed the 1920s one i’ve been binging peaky blinders ( @one-lengthiness36 )

ᯓ★ Since request didn't spicy reader's gender I'll write it as a fem!reader, as I've said in the post

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests open)

ᯓ★ Masterlist

ᯓ★ If you are a Charles Xavier fan click on this link!

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language and this isn’t proof read

The Jazz Club pulses with life on a humid Friday night, filled with the muted glint of candle-lit chandeliers and shadows that dance to the lively notes of a trumpet solo. The place is alive, but you feel like you’re not quite part of it, like you’re watching through glass. You smooth the soft folds of your dress—borrowed from your friend Anna, who insists that it’s the only suitable thing to wear in a place like this—and tuck a stray curl behind your ear, feeling more out of place than you ever have. The excitement and energy around you only seem to emphasize your own nerves.

When Anna and Lucy had insisted on bringing you here tonight, the “exclusive bar everyone’s talking about,” you’d hesitated. You’d been raised on rules, boundaries, and curfews. Late nights and smokey speakeasies had never been on the approved list. But the moment you’d stepped in here, breathing in the heady scent of bourbon, old wood, and something vaguely illicit, a part of you couldn’t deny the thrill that’s begun to buzz under your skin. You’re in a different world here, and your friends seem to thrive in it.

The club, “The Silver Swan,” has a reputation, and you’d heard the whispers about its owner: a shadowy figure with connections that aren’t exactly above board. Rumors say he’s dangerous, a man who rose through the ranks with a rough, unbreakable resolve. And yet, something about those stories only makes this place more thrilling, as if the Silver Swan is something of a forbidden fruit.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror behind the bar, looking wide-eyed and uncertain, the fabric of your dress reflecting the dim light in a way that makes you look more like a stranger than yourself. The low, smoky lights give everyone a sort of glamour, making the crowd seem less like people and more like characters from some gripping novel. A soft laugh tumbles from Anna’s lips, and she nudges you, arching an eyebrow.

“See, aren’t you glad you came?” she teases, her voice barely audible over the music. She’s right—you do feel a strange, exhilarating freedom here, your usual reservations fading into the back of your mind.

But then you feel it—eyes on you, unmistakable and intense. A shiver runs down your spine, and you glance around, suddenly alert. Your gaze lands on a man sitting at the edge of the room, half-hidden in the shadows. His eyes are piercing, almost predatory, watching you with a focus that makes you want to look away and stare back all at once.

The man is handsome in a way that’s almost unfair, with dark hair swept back neatly, a sharply cut jaw, and broad shoulders beneath a crisp suit. He’s lounging in a seat like it belongs to him, exuding a confidence that makes your heart stammer. Something about him is familiar, but you really can't seem to remember where you already saw him.

And right now, he’s looking at you like you’re the only person in the room.

You look away quickly, feeling your face flush, but his gaze is unrelenting. It’s like he’s assessing you, taking in every detail. Even from across the room, the heat of his stare is enough to make you feel exposed, vulnerable in a way that has nothing to do with your dress. Your friends are too busy chatting to notice, and part of you wants to tell them, but another part—one you barely recognize—likes the thrill of keeping it to yourself.

Slowly, almost deliberately, Bucky stands up. He moves with a grace that’s startling for a man of his size, all smooth lines and careful steps. The room shifts around him as people notice, some going silent, others nodding in deference. You try to look away, to pretend you haven’t noticed, but it’s impossible not to track his progress. Your heart beats faster with every step he takes in your direction, a drumbeat echoing louder in your ears as he comes closer.

When he finally reaches you, he stops, tilting his head and giving you the kind of smile that should be illegal in a place like this. He has a magnetism that’s undeniable, as if he could pull you in without a word.

“Good evening,” he says, his voice a low rumble that seems to settle over you. The accent’s faint, a New York drawl that somehow makes every word sound like a promise.

You swallow, trying to steady yourself. “Good evening.”

Up close, he’s even more striking. The lines of his face are sharp, softened only by the faintest of smirks that hovers at the corner of his mouth. His eyes, a shade of blue so intense it’s almost unreal, seem to see right through you. But there’s something else in them too, a flicker of curiosity, as if he’s just as intrigued by you as you are by him.

“Bucky Barnes,” he introduces himself, extending a hand. His fingers are gloved, the leather cool and smooth against your palm. “And who might you be, sweetheart?”

The endearment catches you off guard, and you struggle to remember your own name for a second. “Y/N,” you manage, your voice barely above a whisper. “I—um—I don’t usually come to places like this.”

His smile widens slightly, a flash of white teeth that’s as dangerous as it is charming. “That much is obvious,” he says, his gaze dropping briefly to your dress, then back up to meet your eyes. “But I’d say you’re fitting in just fine.”

Your cheeks heat up again, and you find yourself at a loss for words. It’s disconcerting how effortlessly he seems to get under your skin, making you feel as though he knows things about you that you don’t even know yourself. The bar seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you, caught in a bubble of heady tension.

“Can I get you a drink?” he asks, breaking the silence. He gestures to the bartender, who looks over immediately, waiting for Bucky’s order with a kind of nervous deference.

You hesitate, then nod. “Yes, please.”

Without looking away from you, Bucky nods to the bartender. “A glass of champagne for the lady.”

The drink appears almost immediately, and you accept it, your fingers brushing against his gloved hand. The touch is brief, but it sends a jolt through you, making you feel both exhilarated and unnerved. You take a small sip, hoping it’ll calm your nerves, but his presence is overwhelming, making it difficult to think clearly.

“So, Y/N,” he says, leaning a bit closer, his voice a seductive whisper, “what brings you to my little corner of the city?”

His little corner of the city. The way he says it is almost proprietary, as though he truly owns every inch of this place, every beat of the music, every glass of liquor poured.

“My friends,” you say, gesturing vaguely to Anna and Lucy, who are engrossed in conversation with each other. “They… they thought it was time I had a bit of fun.”

He chuckles, a rich, low sound that makes your pulse quicken. “And are you having fun, doll?”

The question catches you off guard, and you meet his gaze again, caught by the intensity of it. The truth is, you are. Despite your nerves, despite the fact that you feel completely out of your element, there’s something exhilarating about being here, talking to him.

“I think so,” you admit, a smile tugging at your lips. “Though I’m not entirely sure what I’m supposed to be doing.”

Bucky’s eyes light up with amusement, and he leans in a bit closer, his voice a low murmur. “Well, sweetheart, maybe I could help you with that.”

The suggestion hangs in the air between you, charged with a promise that sends your heart racing. You’re not entirely sure what he means, but the thrill of it, the idea of letting him show you something unknown, is intoxicating.

“Would you like to dance?” he asks, and his voice is so soft that it almost feels like a secret.

“Yes,” you reply before you can second-guess yourself.

Bucky leads you onto the dance floor, his hand firm and possessive against your back, and you can feel the curious stares of the other patrons as he holds you close. He’s surprisingly graceful, moving with a practiced ease that makes it easy for you to follow his lead. The world seems to melt away, leaving just the two of you, swaying to the rhythm of the music.

The song is slow, sultry, and Bucky’s hands are warm through the thin fabric of your dress, guiding you effortlessly. He keeps his gaze on you, unwavering, as though he’s studying every reaction, every flicker of emotion on your face.

“Tell me something, Y/N,” he murmurs, his lips close to your ear. “Do you always let strangers sweep you off your feet?”

You can feel his breath against your skin, and it sends a shiver down your spine. “No,” you say softly, meeting his gaze. “I don’t… I don’t usually do things like this.”

He smirks, clearly pleased by your admission. “Good,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “Because I’m not interested in being just anyone to you.”

The words leave you breathless, caught in his intensity. There’s something about him that’s both dangerous and magnetic, and you can feel yourself

being pulled in, the thrill of his attention washing over you.

As the music fades, he doesn’t let go, his gaze darkening as he studies you. “Y/N,” he murmurs, his hand tightening slightly on your waist. “I’d like to see you again.”

You’re not sure if it’s the champagne, the music, or the heady warmth of his gaze, but you find yourself nodding, your heart racing as you meet his gaze. “I’d… I’d like that too.”

He smiles, and there’s something possessive in it, a promise of things you can’t even begin to imagine. As he guides you off the dance floor, you can feel the eyes of the crowd on you, but for the first time, you don’t care. You’re captivated, ensnared, and in that moment, you realize that stepping into this bar has changed everything.

Two nights have passed since you met him, and you can’t shake the memory of the man with the dangerous smile and the piercing blue eyes. It feels almost ridiculous how one night could stick with you like this, lingering in your mind like a melody you can’t quite shake. His voice, low and confident, keeps playing back in your head, making you feel things you barely understand.

It’s just that he was… so different from anyone you’ve ever met. Mysterious, maybe a little bit dangerous, though you can’t say exactly why. He was a stranger, yes, but you can’t help but feel there was something there—something that makes you want to know more.

Tonight, you find yourself standing outside The Silver Swan, the same bar where it all began. Your heart thuds in your chest as you glance at the door, nerves warring with the thrill of seeing him again. You’d told yourself that coming back was silly, that you didn’t even know if he’d be here. But in the end, your curiosity had won out over reason, and here you are, alone this time, without your friends to distract you.

Steeling yourself, you step inside. The place feels both familiar and surreal, as though returning to a dream. The low lights, the smoky haze, the soft murmur of laughter—it’s all just as you remember. Except, this time, you feel different, like you’re here for something specific. Or someone.

Your eyes scan the room, searching. At first, you don’t see him, and a pang of disappointment settles in your chest. But then, across the room, there he is, sitting in that same dark corner, half-obscured by shadows. He’s alone, nursing a drink, his gaze resting on the crowd in a way that seems watchful, attentive. He’s so focused that you almost turn around, almost lose your nerve. But he catches your movement, his gaze locking onto you with an intensity that makes your breath hitch.

And just like the first night, he smiles—a lazy, inviting smile that makes your stomach flip.

You take a steadying breath and walk toward him, feeling as though every step is pulling you deeper into something you don’t entirely understand. When you reach him, he stands, his eyes crinkling with amusement as he looks at you.

“Well, well,” he drawls, his voice every bit as smooth as you remember. “Back again, doll?”

You swallow, trying to keep your voice steady. “I… you didn’t tell me your name. I didn’t know where else to look.”

It’s a flimsy excuse, and you know it. The corners of his mouth twitch as if he’s fighting back a laugh, but he’s too much of a gentleman to let it show.

“Didn’t I?” he asks, feigning surprise. “Must have slipped my mind.”

You raise an eyebrow, catching onto the teasing edge in his tone, and he chuckles softly. It’s a warm sound, richer than you remember, and it puts you a little more at ease.

“James Barnes,” he says finally, extending a gloved hand to you. “Though everyone just calls me Bucky.”

Bucky. You repeat the name in your head, testing it out. Somehow, it suits him perfectly.

“Y/N,” you say, letting him take your hand. His grip is warm and firm, and his gaze remains steady, holding yours with an intensity that feels almost intoxicating.

“I remember,” he murmurs, his voice dropping lower. “Been thinking about you since that night.”

The admission catches you off guard, your cheeks heating as you try to keep your composure. There’s no trace of insincerity in his tone, no hint that he’s merely flattering you. And it does something to you, hearing that he remembers, that he’s been thinking about you, too.

“Can I buy you a drink, sweetheart?” he asks, gesturing to the seat beside him. The offer is simple, but his gaze tells you that he’s waiting for something more than just a drink. It’s a silent invitation, one you find yourself unable to resist.

You sit beside him, nodding as he signals the bartender. Within moments, a glass of champagne is set in front of you, the same as last time. The tiny bubbles rise to the surface, and you take a sip, savoring the taste as you try to steady your nerves. Bucky’s eyes never leave you, tracking every move you make with a quiet intensity that sends a thrill through you.

“So,” he says after a moment, his voice soft, “what brings you back here tonight, Y/N?”

There’s a teasing glint in his eye, and you can tell he already knows the answer. But you can’t bring yourself to say it outright. Instead, you glance down at your glass, letting the bubbles fizz against your lips.

“Maybe I was… curious,” you admit finally. “About you.”

The words hang between you, more honest than you’d intended, but his reaction is worth it. His gaze darkens, and he leans in just slightly, his voice lowering to a murmur.

“Is that so?” he asks, a slow smile spreading across his face. “I don’t suppose you know much about me, do you?”

You shake your head, feeling both embarrassed and exhilarated by the question. “No, not really,” you say. “Just that you’re the owner of this place.”

Bucky chuckles, the sound low and amused. “That’s one way to put it,” he says, his eyes glinting with something you can’t quite place. “But there’s a bit more to it than that.”

He leans back in his seat, watching you with a faint, assessing smile. “And you,” he says, “are a little out of place in a place like this, aren’t you?”

It’s not a question, more of an observation, and he’s not wrong. You feel the flush of heat on your cheeks as you give a small nod.

“My friends wanted to show me something… new,” you say, glancing around at the bar. “And I guess I wanted to see more of it.”

“More of me, you mean,” he says smoothly, the teasing lilt back in his voice.

You try to stifle a laugh, knowing he’s right. “Maybe,” you admit.

He seems pleased by your honesty, his smirk softening into something more genuine. The conversation flows more easily now, and you find yourself telling him things you wouldn’t usually share with a stranger—about your strict upbringing, your sheltered life, how your friends are always telling you to try something new, something daring.

“Sounds like you’ve been living under lock and key,” he says, a hint of sympathy in his voice. “Bet you’ve never even snuck out after curfew.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I haven’t, actually. I don’t even know what it feels like to break the rules.”

His eyes glint with something mischievous, and he leans in just a little closer, his voice a murmur. “Would you like to find out?”

The suggestion sends a thrill down your spine, and you glance around, feeling both nervous and exhilarated. “Maybe,” you say, your voice softer than you intend.

Bucky’s gaze holds yours, his expression one of quiet satisfaction. “How about a little tour of the place, then?” he asks, offering his arm. “You don’t get to see the real Silver Swan from the barstool.”

You bite your lip, hesitating for just a moment before you slip your hand through the crook of his arm. His gaze softens, and you can feel the weight of his attention on you as he leads you away from the bar. The patrons barely look up as you pass, and you wonder if they’re used to seeing Bucky escorting guests through the place.

He leads you down a hallway that seems to stretch on forever, passing doors that look as though they lead to secret places—rooms shrouded in mystery and intrigue. Bucky says nothing, letting the quiet settle between you, and you feel yourself growing more curious, more intrigued by him with every step.

When he finally stops, it’s at a private booth at the very back of the club, tucked away from prying eyes. The lights are low, the shadows casting his face in a way that makes him look almost otherworldly.

“This,” he says softly, “is where I like to sit when I want a break from it all.”

You glance around, taking in the plush seating and the faint scent of leather and bourbon that seems to hang in the air. “It’s… nice,” you say, feeling a little out of breath. “Quiet.”

He nods, watching you closely. “Not many people get to see this side of the club,” he says. “Guess you’re special, Y/N.”

The words are simple, but they make your heart skip a beat. You hold his gaze, feeling that pull again, that magnetic attraction that brought you back here tonight.

“Thank you,” you say, almost whispering.

He leans in, his hand resting on the back of the booth behind you. “It’s my pleasure, doll,” he murmurs, his voice a low, intoxicating murmur. “I meant it when I said I wanted to see you again.”

You feel yourself getting lost in his eyes, the promise in his voice making your heart race. And as you sit there, hidden away from the world, you realize that you don’t care about the consequences or what you’ve always been told.

As the two of you settle into the private booth, Bucky leans back, relaxed, his gaze never straying far from you. The low hum of the club fades into the background, and for the first time, you feel as though you can truly open up. There’s something about him—something magnetic, confident, almost disarming. It’s as though his quiet intensity has created a space where you feel safe, unjudged.

“You know,” he says, after a moment of comfortable silence, “you’re different than most people who come through here.”

“Different?” you echo, taking a sip of champagne to cover the sudden rush of nervousness. “How?”

He smiles, his head tilting thoughtfully. “Most people here, they’ve got something to prove. Or something to hide. They’re running from their lives or getting a break from them. But you? You seem like you’re still figuring out what it is you want. Not in a bad way. It’s…” His voice softens as his eyes sweep over you. “It’s refreshing.”

You can’t help but smile, feeling a flicker of warmth at his words. But that warmth quickly fades into something more bittersweet, a feeling that gnaws at the edges of your happiness. You glance down, fiddling with the stem of your glass as you think of your father, of the tight restrictions he’s kept on you for so long, and the rules you’ve never dared question.

“Maybe that’s because I don’t know what I want,” you murmur, barely loud enough for him to hear. “I don’t think I ever learned how to decide that for myself.”

He studies you in silence, letting the confession linger in the space between you. Bucky doesn’t press, doesn’t pry—just waits, watching you with a quiet patience that feels comforting.

“It’s just…” you continue, hesitating, unsure how to explain the life you’ve led, the one so tightly wrapped in rules and boundaries. “My father has always been very… strict. Growing up, I had a list of things I could do, places I was allowed to go. There were rules about what I could wear, who I could talk to.” You give a short, bitter laugh, almost embarrassed to admit it. “My whole life has been about following those rules.”

Bucky’s expression shifts, his jaw tightening slightly. “He must be real protective of you.”

“Protective? Yes,” you say, nodding slowly. “But it’s more than that. He always said he was trying to keep me safe, but…” You trail off, staring into your glass. “It feels like I was more of a possession than a person sometimes. Like I was something he could control.”

Bucky’s hand rests on the back of the booth, his fingers inching closer to yours as he leans forward. “Must have been lonely,” he says quietly, his voice gentle, understanding.

The truth of it hits you in a way you weren’t expecting. You’ve never been allowed to admit that, not even to yourself, but hearing it said aloud feels oddly freeing. “It was,” you confess, barely above a whisper. “I think that’s why I stayed. I didn’t know any other way to live.”

A quiet moment stretches between you, and then Bucky speaks, his tone warm but filled with a fierceness you hadn’t seen before. “You know, there’s more out there than just following someone else’s rules, Y/N. There’s a whole world waiting to be discovered—by you.”

His words make something tighten in your chest, a thrill mingling with fear. It’s tempting to believe him, to imagine a world where you could make your own choices, live by your own rules. But the thought is daunting, and part of you wonders if you’d even know where to begin.

“I don’t know if I’d know how to live like that,” you admit, your voice wavering slightly. “It sounds… wonderful, but it’s not easy. Not when I’ve been told my whole life what’s right and wrong.”

“Right and wrong?” he repeats, an amused smirk quirking at the edge of his lips. “Who’s deciding that, doll? Your father?”

You hesitate, feeling a swell of defensiveness and something else—guilt, maybe. “I mean, he’s only ever tried to protect me. He says that the world’s dangerous, and that if I’m careful, I’ll stay safe.”

Bucky’s gaze darkens, something unspoken flickering in his eyes. “And what’s that gotten you? Safety? Or just limitations?”

The question hangs heavy between you, and for a moment, you don’t have an answer. You think about your life as it’s been: the curfews, the rules, the carefully monitored friendships, the way you’d once looked forward to every day shrinking into a comfortable, predictable routine. And it hits you that you don’t remember the last time you actually felt alive, felt excited about something. Meeting Bucky, coming back here tonight—these things have pulled you out of the haze that’s been your life, made you realize just how small it had become.

“I don’t know,” you say, feeling that truth in your bones. “I just… I’ve never known any other way.”

Bucky’s gaze softens, his hand moving closer until his fingers brush lightly against yours. “Maybe it’s time to change that,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost a whisper. “To start making choices for yourself.”

His words stir something in you, something you’ve ignored for far too long. Maybe it is time. Maybe there’s more for you out there, more than just the safe life your father has laid out for you. The thought is thrilling and terrifying, a leap into the unknown that you’re not sure you’re ready for.

But sitting here, under Bucky’s intense gaze, you feel a flicker of courage.

“What if… what if I don’t know where to start?” you ask, barely realizing you’ve spoken the thought aloud.

Bucky smiles, a quiet, reassuring smile that makes your heart skip a beat. “Then start with something small,” he says. “Just one little choice that’s all your own.”

The suggestion feels manageable, like a tiny, contained spark in the face of a bonfire. You look down at your hand, still so close to his, and a thought occurs to you, simple and impulsive.

“Then I choose to stay here,” you say, your voice soft but certain. “With you.”

Bucky’s eyes flash with something you can’t quite name, and his fingers close gently over yours. He doesn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes tells you more than words could. It feels as though a silent promise has passed between you, a vow to share this moment and maybe more.

“You made a good choice,” he says, voice low and sincere. “You’ll find it’s not so bad, choosing what you want for yourself.”

And as you sit there, wrapped in the warmth of his presence, you realize that for the first time, you feel free. It’s a small thing, yes, but it’s the beginning of something bigger. It’s a spark, a chance to break away from the life you’ve known, to carve out something that belongs only to you.

“Thank you,” you say softly, meeting his gaze. “For… for making me feel like I could do that.”

Bucky’s grip tightens around your hand, his gaze unwavering. “Sweetheart, you don’t need anyone to give you permission to live your life. But I’ll be here to remind you, as often as you need.”

The weight of his words settles over you, grounding you, anchoring you in this moment. And as the evening stretches on, you find yourself leaning into this new feeling—this strange, exhilarating freedom. You don’t know where this will lead, but for the first time, you’re not afraid of the unknown. For the first time, you feel ready to face it.

The hours seem to slip away as you and Bucky talk, wrapped up in a world that feels like it belongs only to the two of you. Conversation flows easily, and each answer you give, every shared look, every quiet laugh feels like a step further into uncharted territory—a life you never imagined could be yours. With each word, each moment, you feel yourself coming undone, shedding pieces of the careful person you’ve been told to be.

You learn more about him, too, though his answers are sometimes elusive, his stories sketched in broad strokes rather than fine detail. He talks about Brooklyn, about the fast changes sweeping through the city, about what it means to take control of your life and make your own choices, no matter the risk. And there’s a gleam in his eye when he speaks of it, a sort of fierce independence that leaves you breathless.

He notices your rapt attention and smiles knowingly, and just as you start to look away, he reaches over, lifting your chin with a gentle hand. “Don’t go hiding now, doll,” he says softly. “You’ve got that look in your eye, like you’re learning a secret.”

Maybe you are. Maybe tonight is a door opening in your mind, a glimpse into a world beyond everything you’ve been raised to believe. You don’t want to look away. Not now.

The night deepens, the lights around you dimming further as the crowd in the bar begins to thin. You’ve lost track of time, and when you look at him again, you realize you’ve also lost track of everything else—the worry, the rules, the constraints of who you’re supposed to be. All that exists now is the weight of his gaze, steady and warm and laced with a depth you can barely fathom.

“Bucky,” you murmur, his name foreign but sweet on your tongue, “you’re right. I don’t want to live like that anymore. I want… more.”

He doesn’t answer right away, but the way he looks at you speaks volumes. The intensity in his eyes softens, a hint of something tender mingling with his usual confidence. You’re close to him now, closer than you’ve ever been to anyone before, and it feels so natural, as though you’re meant to be in this moment, with him.

As if sensing your thoughts, he brushes his hand along your cheek, his thumb tracing a soft line along your skin. “You deserve that,” he whispers, his voice barely audible over the distant hum of music. “You deserve to have everything you want.”

Your heart is racing, but it’s no longer just nerves—it’s excitement, the thrill of something new, something you’ve only read about in books or dreamed of late at night when no one was watching. Bucky’s thumb pauses, just beneath your lips, and you hold your breath, wondering if he can feel the heat rushing to your face, if he knows just how much you want this.

And then, as if time has slowed, he leans in, his lips brushing yours in a featherlight kiss.

It’s softer than you imagined, gentle and tentative, almost as if he’s waiting to make sure you’re alright with this, as though he’s giving you a moment to pull away if you want to. But pulling away is the last thing on your mind. Instead, you close your eyes, letting yourself melt into the kiss, letting him guide you.

It’s your first kiss, and yet it feels like it’s something you’ve waited your whole life for. His lips are warm, and there’s a softness to him that contrasts with his strong grip as he tilts his head, deepening the kiss just slightly. You feel his hand cradle the back of your neck, anchoring you to him, and it’s like everything you’ve known has been turned upside down, as if your world has narrowed to this single point of contact.

When he pulls back, his forehead resting against yours, he doesn’t let go. His eyes search yours, and there’s something vulnerable there, something that makes your heart ache in the best way.

“You okay?” he asks softly, a faint, tender smile playing on his lips.

You nod, your voice barely a whisper. “Yes,” you manage, feeling breathless. “I didn’t know it could feel like this.”

He chuckles softly, brushing a lock of hair from your face. “Then we’ll take our time,” he murmurs. “No need to rush. Just… let yourself feel it.”

You can feel the warmth of his hand against your skin, his thumb brushing slow, soothing circles on the back of your neck. The kiss has stirred something in you, a hunger for more—more of him, more of this feeling of freedom. It’s a feeling you didn’t know existed, a kind of heady joy mixed with an electric thrill, and you find yourself wanting to savor every second of it.

“I’ve never…” you begin, your cheeks warming as you try to find the words. “This is all so new.”

Bucky smiles, his gaze softening further. “I know, sweetheart. But I’ve got all the time in the world.” There’s a promise in his voice, a quiet reassurance that lets you feel safe, cared for. And in this moment, with him, you believe it.

“Thank you,” you whisper, not sure how to put into words everything you’re feeling. “For… for this. For making me feel like I could do something I’ve always been afraid to.”

He rests a hand on your cheek, his thumb grazing your skin as he studies you, as though he’s memorizing every detail of your face. “You don’t ever have to thank me for that,” he says, his voice rough with sincerity. “If anything, thank yourself. You’re the one taking the chance.”

The world outside this quiet, shadowed booth feels a million miles away, and you realize, for the first time, that you’re not thinking of anyone else—not your father, not the rules, not the life you’d been told to live. Here, with Bucky, you’re allowed to simply be.

As the night wears on, you talk in hushed tones, sharing fragments of dreams, whispered promises, and moments of laughter. And when he kisses you again, it’s no longer tentative or restrained, but warm and inviting, a promise of something more. It’s a gentle pull, a quiet invitation to step further into this new life that’s slowly taking shape before you.

And as you close your eyes, feeling his arms wrap around you, you can’t help but think that this—this feeling, this night, this person—might just be the beginning of everything you’ve been waiting for.

The weeks that follow are filled with secret rendezvous, stolen glances, and a flurry of emotions you’ve never experienced before. Bucky becomes your world, a thrilling, hidden part of your life that you keep safe from prying eyes and questions. You meet him on street corners, take long walks in the early morning hours, and share intimate moments in dimly lit corners of his bar. He shows you parts of the city you never knew existed, places tucked away from the polished streets you grew up on. With every touch, every lingering look, you feel yourself slipping further from the quiet girl your family knows and closer to the woman he’s helped you become.

But Bucky’s expression has grown increasingly serious each time he sees you. One night, after a quiet dinner at his place, he turns to you with a look that makes your heart race for all the wrong reasons.

“Sweetheart, we need to talk.” His voice is calm, steady, but there’s something heavier behind it. The warmth that always seems to light up his gaze is dimmer, a flicker of worry casting shadows over his features.

The unease in his voice sends a shiver through you. You reach for his hand, squeezing it gently. “What is it, Bucky?”

He pauses, his jaw tightening before he speaks. “There’s something I haven’t told you.” He meets your gaze, searching your eyes as though bracing himself. “About who I am. About what I do.”

The words make you stop short, your heart pounding as you try to read his face. But there’s no trace of the softness he usually holds for you; instead, he looks almost haunted, caught between protecting you and confessing something you suspect he’s wanted to share for a long time.

“Alright,” you say softly, not letting go of his hand. “Then tell me.”

Taking a breath, Bucky looks away for a moment, as if gathering himself, before he speaks again. “I… I’m not just the guy who owns that bar, Y/N.” His voice drops to a low murmur. “I’m in charge of a group of men—a group that does things your father would never approve of. People see me as… as someone to be feared. I’m the boss of a gang.”

You stare at him, processing each word slowly, feeling the weight of them sink in. The man you’ve fallen in love with—the man who taught you how to live outside the lines, who showed you how to think for yourself—he’s also a feared figure in the world of crime, someone your father would have you believe is dangerous and immoral. But despite the shock of it, you can’t seem to find fear in your heart. Instead, you feel something different, something even stronger.

“And… and you think that changes something?” you ask, barely louder than a whisper.

Bucky’s eyes widen slightly in surprise, as if he’d expected you to pull away or look at him with horror. “Y/N, this isn’t a small thing. It’s dangerous. You shouldn’t be mixed up in a life like mine. I can’t offer you the same kind of safety you’re used to.”

You shake your head, your hand tightening around his. “But I don’t want safety, Bucky. Not the way my father has defined it. You’ve shown me a different life, one that’s real. I can finally breathe with you, be myself. And if that comes with danger, then so be it.”

He looks at you, the disbelief in his gaze melting into something softer, something filled with a kind of raw gratitude. “You’re sure?” he asks, voice thick with an emotion he doesn’t quite name. “Because once you’re in, sweetheart, there’s no easy way out.”

You lean into him, closing the space between you, your hand resting against his cheek as you meet his gaze with unwavering certainty. “Bucky, being with you has taught me more than anything else in my life. I don’t care about what you do, or who you used to be, or what other people say. You showed me how to stand up for myself. That’s what matters to me.”

A mixture of relief and disbelief flashes across his face, and for a moment, he seems almost lost for words. Then, as if unable to hold back any longer, he pulls you into his arms, his embrace fierce, filled with a desperate kind of gratitude. You can feel his heart pounding against your own, and the depth of his feeling, the strength of his emotion, overwhelms you.

When he finally pulls back, his hands stay on your shoulders, as though to anchor himself to you, his gaze piercing as it holds yours. “I don’t deserve you,” he says, a quiet, honest confession.

You smile, touching a hand to his cheek. “Maybe you do.”

For the first time, he lets out a quiet laugh, a genuine smile breaking through the intensity of his expression. And then, slowly, he leans down, his lips finding yours in a kiss that’s deeper, more intense than any you’ve shared before. This kiss is filled with relief, with unspoken promises and the kind of love that goes beyond the superficial, the kind of love that’s forged in fire.

When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, his voice barely a whisper. “I’ll protect you with everything I have. I promise.”

You nod, understanding the weight of his words. But you also know that you don’t need protecting, not the way you once thought. Because being with him has shown you that you’re stronger than you ever knew.

And as you sit together in the quiet of the night, Bucky holding you close, you know that this life, complicated and messy as it is, is exactly where you’re meant to be.

maybe a part 2 where y/n's family discovers their relationship? If you liked the story don't forget to like, reblog and drop a follow if you want to read more. <3

[minshookie]

All Play, No Work.

Pairing | CEO!Yoongi x reader

Genre | yandere,angst

Summary | “your secret relationship with Yoongi is all smooth sailing,until Mrs Kim gets in the way.”

!warnings! | mature language, workplace bullying, gossip, and infidelity. Also some pretty steamy scenes, for readers 18+.

| this is not in anyway shape or form a true depiction or representation of BTS, this is a work of fiction and is not to be taken seriously. For entertainment purposes only.|(this is my work, please don’t repost or steal)

Requested [open for request] words: 2k.

A/N | “I’m so happy you enjoyed “meetings at midnight.” I never really expected over 100 notes that’s crazy! I may have gotten a little carried away with this one but I hope you don’t mind & enjoy it as well. I’ll probably be making a part 2, please take any mistakes as love ❤️”

The disturbing rattle of the air conditioner served as white noise while you toyed with the drooping noodles swimming in the savory sauce placed before you. A few of your coworkers droned on about their plans, their kids and undeserving husbands leaving you alone in the corner of the depressing break room to think about what to expect when getting back to your cubicle. Which was a little less depressing than the powder white painted room you resided in now.

“Y/L/N, Min is asking for you.” The conversations stopped and all three of us looked up into the door frame. Jimin,Yoongi's assistant stood with his hands buried in his stiffly pressed pants pockets. “I-I’m on lunch.” You slowly went back to your lukewarm meal, taking a few noodles into your mouth. Chewing, You waited for the heavy pitter patter of his polished leather loafers to exit, but You never get what you wish for.

“Y/N, please don’t make me have to run back up there just to run back down here and tell you the same thing….c’mon.” He came closing your tupperware, sighing as you pushed it into your lunch bag, embarrassment growing on your features as he stood over you. The stare of nosey coworkers followed as you stepped out of the bland break room. The clacking of Jimin’s shoes found your nerves rather quickly, closely he walked behind you like a school principal making sure you went where instructed.

Taking you past your cubicle to leave your lunch you could almost taste the jealousy being thrown at you like missiles. Disapproving and confused whispers and glares followed you out the area. Reaching the stairs, out of sight of your colleagues you out ran Jimin, the looks, noises and scoffs getting the best of you. You practically threw yourself through yoongi's door, your heart pounding in your ears.

“Hey! hey! Bunny, got here quickly didn’t you?” He walked over locking his loyal assistant out. Falling back on the couch struggling for your breath, closing your eyes, you heard him walk around you. “I told you I’d see you after work, we’d have all night together.” Sighing, he pulls you up by your arms. With a grunt he sat down and replaced your head on his lap. “I know what you said, but did you really think I was going to wait...why should i?” Opening your eyes you met his soft gaze. “Tell me you love me.” He whispers, almost ashamed in himself. Needy, needy,needy,always needy. “This can’t be why you called me in.”

“Why should I?” You laughed, obviously he didn’t share your sense of humor as he tugged harshly on a strand of your hair. “Well if I didn’t love you I’d quit Yoongi.” Rolling over you cuddled into his soft tummy inhaling his masculin scent, this here under him locked in his dim office was your safe place. “No you wouldn’t, I pay you too much.” He murmured petting your back with his large hands. “As if!” You giggled into his tummy, pulling back to look up at your lover. His signature smile displayed on his features, moving his hands from your back he places his limber fingers at the back of your knee. Locking eyes he slid skillfully under your skirt to massage your ass over your panties. “Who were you hiding from today hm?” Groaning you rolled your eyes, you hate how he knows you so well.

“Kim?” “Mrs Kim is the least of my worries now.” You grimaced playing with his buttons. “Mm good, can't be the new girl, maybe her boyfriend?” Your eyes shot open, “boyfriend?! Who?” He planted this topic in the conversation, knowing your interest in the drama of your workplace. “Yeah, she’s running around with the coffee boy.” Laughing, he cut himself off “Jungkook.” He laughed almost uncontrollably. “That’s so cute since when?!” He hums calming down, “uh since about last month, I’ve been watching them get all close and flirty jeon puts extra cream in her coffee, she blushes blah blah. And you know Jimin is the nosiest person in the population of this place.”

You chuckled Nodding in agreeance “learned that way before you did, he was my cubicle neighbor before he was your assistant.” Sitting up you go to his drink cart to grab a bottle of water. “Yeah they’re cute as long as they stay on task, Answer the question though, who’s bothering my baby hm? I hate seeing you that way.” He comes from behind gliding his hands around your front pulling you into his embrace “you have a whole cafeteria in the next wing, I made sure they served your favorite today, and yet you chose the shitty break closet.” His rambling turns into background noise as you look through the one way window. Watching as your coworkers attended their duties, Jungkook balanced coffees in his arms with skill the new girl watched in admiration...I wonder what he’s actually here for.

Yoongi’s breath fans your neck causing you to shiver against him. “I’m sorry what’d you say?” “You’re ok.” He turns you around swiftly kissing you passionately against the glass obviously you’ve missed something. Though unseen the act feels extremely dirty. Dropping your water you cling to his shoulders, legs around his Slender waist. “You're not paying me to make out with you I hope.” He pecks your nose, gnawing his bottom lip. “Huh looks like I am.” “Ah, as tempting as that sounds Yoongs-” “don’t ever call me that.” He nips at your neck in retaliation. “I have a stack of papers on my desk that Mr Jimin has been beating me over the head about.” Groaning he loosens his grip around you. Letting you gather yourself before going to his door.

“I’ll see you tonight yeah?” Pouting,he came kissing your lips once more. “I’ll be waiting.” He opened the door and watched you strut down the stairs.

Getting back to your respectful area, you notice something was off...where’d your lunch go? You could’ve sworn you threw it on your desk. Pulling out the rolling chair to take a seat, “I’ll find it later.” You whispered to yourself,taking a seat, directly in the cold remains of your lunch. “What the fuck!” A wave of laughter was given with your ill response. Noodles dangled from your backside as you turned to look at the mess on your office chair.

“Okay! What are we a bunch of middle school virgins?” Jimin shouted, his face turning a dark shade of peach. “I’m sorry y/n.” Rolling your eyes you tried to keep back tears of utter embarrassment turning away from you colleagues. “Uhm...it’s pretty bad, do you have anything to change into?” He takes off his styled coat and hands it to you. You can’t process over the harsh giggles and whispers, “yeah like I have a closet in my car, Jimin I don’t have shit to put on!” You hiss making him pull an offended expression.

“I could give you something.” Your head snapped in the direction of the quiet new girl in the far corner. “I have a few dresses in car I-I I’m in the process of…” she scans the room unsure of her words “moving.” You offer a smile to cover how distraught you are, unable to respond correctly. “Thank you luci, we appreciate it.” Nodding she smiles softly grabbing her bag going to retrieve the clothes. “Go to the restroom, please.”

Tying the coat around your waist you rushed with your head down to the bathroom, shutting the door behind yourself roughly. Taking off the grey coat Turing to examine your soup covered ass. You brushed the cold noodles letting them splat onto the tiled floor. Pulling coat off the conjoined sinks you found the spacious stall at the end of the row, stripping off your soiled skirt. Nothing better to do, but to sit on the cold stool and wait.

The creaking door of the bathroom cut your silent thoughts short, isn’t Luci a quick one? You chuckled to yourself getting up, about to tell her of your whereabouts…“maybe if the bitch didn’t have her head so far up Min’s ass she woulda saw it coming.” The unknown voice stopped you in your tracks. Her friend snickers. “Shh she could be in here.” “As if I give a fuck, she needs to know!” Peeking through the side of the stall you could see them in the mirror touching up their makeup. “Min’s probably got his head up hers too!” The quieter of the two spoke up.

“Ha that would explain my recent hours, I heard they fuck in the office, I wonder if the sluts any good.” She cleaned the edges of her lipstick, “I’ve fucked him, I know he’s good, really into all the rough shit, he’s crazy.” She tossed her makeup into her bag fixing her hair, “why’d you guys stop?” You felt your chest ache, yoongi never told you about him and Mrs Kim, what kind of fucked story is this? “Little miss pasta booty got the job, and Joon finally proposed...guess he didn’t want me any-” “y/n are you in here?!” Luci’s softened voice searched for you.

“I’m in here.” Responding slightly above a whisper, the soft steps of her pumps were trampled by the clicking steps of the two mud slingers who quickly bursted from the restroom. “I didn’t know what you would like, I have this blue one, it’s a cute summer dress.” She hung it on the door of the stall for me to see. “Or this white one, it’s a bit tighter but I think it’ll look great on you.” Randomly choosing you stripped of your top pulling the dress over yourself. “Thanks Luci, I owe you one.” Collecting your clothes and Jimin’s coat, you left the stall. “No no, I’m sorry Kim did that to you...I should’ve stopped her.” She coyly hangs her head, “not your fault...thanks Luci.” She smiles politely, leaving me alone in the bathroom.

Eunji That jealous bitch, yoongi has much explaining to do. You smooth out your dress bracing yourself for the environment behind the door. only to be pushed back. A deep blush pink shade covering his face, yoongi brings you back in, “you can’t be in here, this is the ladies.” He scans your body before looking at the dirty laundry in your arms. “This is my building. I can be anywhere in any room I want.” Scoffing you attempt to leave, grabbing your forearm he pulls you back. “What’s going on with you I’m here to check and see if you’re alright and here you are acting like an ass y/n” his face held a concerned stare.

“Yoongi the last thing we should be doing is huddling in the bathroom, we’ve drawn enough attention to ‘us’ already.” Unable to look him in the eyes you examine his posture, he propped your chin on his pointer finger bringing your face up. “And since when did you care?” “Ever since your ex painted my ass with my lunch.” He giggled darkly, “what?” Again you attempted escape, only to be overpowered and lifted with ease. “Okay sit the fuck down.” Placing you down in the sink like a child he took your skirt looking at the back. “And this just had to be the one I bought?.” He shook his head like a disappointed father. “What are you acting so mad towards me for, who’s supposedly my ex huh?” He took the skirt under the faucet scrubbing it harshly together with soap.

Why can’t he ever just leave you alone, drawing attention to your relationship was the last thing you needed today. It’s not like nobody knew, it was hard not to. But you hated the unwanted attention the favoritism brought you. “Who lied to you?” “You did.” He stopped the water, “y/n now you know I’d never.” He folded the cleaned wet skirt along with your shirt. “Yoongi, I heard Kim Eunji talking about it. She told her little follower about it while I hid in the stall.” You answered blandly, ready to be freed from the bathroom. His face shifted shades, “what? I’ve never fucked that bitch, all she does is lie and get into shit she has no concern for.” He gripped the sink roughly.

Like a switch, when the right buttons were pushed Yoongi’s temper was quick to strike….though never thrown at you. It can have harsh outcomes and you've seen it first hand. “She runs her mouth about you too much, I’ll have to help her out.” Aggressively released the marble counter, “Yoongi w-what, calm down.” He walked to the door, unsure of what to do. Naive of his wrath you followed behind. “She wants to get fucked? I’ll give her something that’ll fuck her up, something that’ll make her piss off for good this time.”

Not my image

[microsuedemouse]

last night I had an Absolute Stranger pop up in my notes to be totally hostile out of nowhere about my interpretations of some fictional characters. I took the initiative to block them because they were engaging in bad faith and clearly had no interest in discussing the subject. now they don't have to see my content anymore and everyone wins! but I've been thinking about it ever since, and I wanted to share some thoughts here, with those of you who are reasonable and not just trying to start arguments with people you've never interacted with before. I know that at times I've collected large numbers of young, passionate followers, so I think this is a discussion worth having with anyone who's willing to converse in good faith!

one of the most fundamental truths of how human beings interact with fiction is that every single member of the audience is going to have a different take on the story. if you ask me, this is also one of the most beautiful and interesting things about engaging with other fans of something. everyone is bringing something different to the table when they sit down to read, watch, listen, play, or otherwise take in the tale. everyone is going to have their own context through which to understand the characters and events in the story. when you're dealing with literally anything that isn't expressly stated by the storytelling, you're dealing with interpretation, and there is never only one correct way to interpret a story or character. this just isn't how fiction works.

let me give you a good, clear example of what I mean. several years ago, in one of my university classes, I read Karen Russell's short story St. Lucy's Home for Girls Raised by Wolves. the story is about a group of girls - maybe werewolves, maybe only feral children; it's left somewhat ambiguous - who are taken from their wolf families and re-educated by nuns to be proper young ladies. they're made to sit up straight and cut their wild hair and speak only in human languages, giving up the howling and growling they've used all their lives. it's difficult and unnatural for them. when my prof asked us what the story reminded us of, I was the one who brought up residential schools, and it seemed that a lot of my classmates agreed with me: the similarities were striking, even if Russell hadn't had that in mind. but an autistic classmate of mine had a different comparison to make - to her, the story was uncomfortably reminiscent of the treatment received by many autistic children, being forced to give up everything that comes naturally to them and conform to other people's expectations of their behaviour. both of these reads were completely legitimate.

you don't have to have an english or literature degree to understand this concept. think back to your early experiences writing essays in school, based on a book you'd been assigned to read. think about your teachers telling you: make a point, and then use evidence to convince me. this is one of the most basic ways that we engage with fiction on an academic level. and when it comes to fandom, we don't even have to go that far! while many fans love to put a lot of thought into their interpretations, headcanons, fanfics, meta, and other fanworks, many don't. there are a lot of reasons for this, from wanting to see yourself reflected in the characters you love to simply having fun shaking things up. you don't have to justify your interpretations (or your reinterpretations). you're allowed to play in the sandbox just because it's a good time.

a lot of us, when we really love a story or character, get incredibly passionate about our interpretations. that's normal and understandable. and so, naturally, we're also going to find people whose interpretations fly in the face of our own. but people who disagree with you are not inherently wrong. people are incredibly complex, which means two things: one, real people are going to have all kinds of complex factors affecting how they read a story, and two, there are virtually infinite ways to interpret fictional people when the information you're working with is necessarily limited. when they're working from the same baseline information, two people can have two wildly different understandings of a character and neither of them is objectively more correct than the other.

(this intersects a lot with conversations about coding and authorial intent. both of these are their own huge discussions that I'm not going to get into in detail here. both are important in their own ways, but when you cut down to the bone, the basic truth remains that audience interpretations are still going to go in all directions and that's still allowed. even when you're working exclusively with interpretations that aim to be entirely canon-compliant, neither coding nor authorial intent is the same thing as explicit canon. yes, it's still crappy to erase heavy queer-coding [for example] in media where that's the best representation that creators can offer us; that's a matter of social issues intersecting with fiction, which is another huge discussion of its own. but even what qualifies as 'heavy' coding is going to vary from one audience member to the next.)

for me, this incredible variety of interpretation is one of fandom's greatest strengths! I have made friends with people whose character interpretations are incredibly different from mine, or whose favourite ships are the ones I can't stand, or who hated stories I loved. I think trading these ideas, discussing the differences in our readings of the same subject matter, is so interesting. learning how someone reads a character or storyline, and why they read it that way, is always really illuminating for me! discussing our differing interpretations can be such an interesting way to learn about other people's points of view and broaden your own perspective. I so strongly encourage it. embrace the passion you share, rather than starting arguments about things that ultimately don't have much in the way of impact on your real-world existence. for sure, yeah, block the weirdo who romanticises an abusive ship that gives you the creeps. but when you meet someone who headcanons your favourite character to be a completely different sexuality than you do, or who ships your brotp romantically... there's huge potential there for some really engaging conversations.

this isn't a manifesto. the topic of fan interpretation is enormous, and includes so many smaller discussions, and intersects with so many other issues. I'm not claiming to have covered all the bases here. I just really encourage you all to accept that there are no Objectively Correct Opinions - that's not how opinions work! you know that, I know you do! and when you do come across work that's just so far from your interpretation that you can't stand it... just don't engage. scroll on past. block the poster if you want. no one is making you look at fanwork that you don't like. you are not obligated to interact with the people creating that work in any way. please, for the love of god, curate your own fandom experience. someone doodling fanart for a ship that doesn't jibe with you isn't hurting you. you have the power to remove it from in front of your eyes and go find something else you like better. go engage with things that do interest you!! you will be happier for it!!!

[henryobsessed]

I Took You Home - The Morning After

Summary: Henry Wakes up in what he thinks is Lucy’s apartment

Word Count: 1633

Warning: Bare Chest, Fluff.

Previous Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Henry groaned his head was pounding, wondering how much he drank last night he gingerly opened his eyelids just a little. Dread hit his gut as he realised this was not his house or his bed. The duvet that was currently hugging his body was colourful and bright, definitely not his bed. Shifting a bit to look around the room he noticed his clothes hanging on the wardrobe door, whoever it was that had taken him home was at least kind enough to look after his clothes.

"Oww......." he groaned as the sun from a window caught his eyes, and he shut them tight against the brightness. Wondering where and with whom he was Henry tried to remember the night before. It had been a hard day. Nothing had gone right on the set of his latest project, and at the end of the day they had sent everyone home telling them to "Take a break over the weekend, and come back fresh for Monday" Frustrated and not wanting to spend the weekend alone again he had talked his friends into going out. But that was short-lived as they had ditched him, the vague memory of them all finding perspective girls to go home with and leaving his sorry ass to look after himself. That's why he had been so happy to see Lucy.

Eyes wide now he sat up remembering that Lucy had taken him home, but this was not her apartment, Had she moved?. Remembering somewhat now, he had not been sure how to get home, consuming more than he knew he should out of self-pity he had then seen Lucy. The rest of the night was blurring into a blackhole as the alcohol in his blood had concentrated. He heard the sounds of humming coming from the other room, this was going to be awkward he had not seen Lucy since they had broken up many months ago and he was sure she would not have been happy to see him in the state he was last night. So why had she taken him home? Shifting his legs out of the covers he felt, then saw the mess in his boxers. Still not sure what had happened and wondering if he had experienced a wet dream or if Lucy had given him a hand job decided he better clean up and have a shower before facing the music.

The hot water felt good as it cascaded over his sore head, the longer he stood there the more he started to feel human again. Stepping out of the shower he towel-dried his hair and then wrapped the grey fluffy towel that he had found hanging over the towel rack low around his hips. Grabbing up his boxers he walked to the door to the living room, looking at his boxers he asked, "Lucy, can I put these in the wash?" standing in the doorway separating the bedroom from the living room Henry looked up expecting an answer but was shocked into silence as a young woman stood staring at him, eyes wide a blush creeping up her face. Where was Lucy?

The woman seemed to shake out of her silence, placing a plate of Bacon, Eggs, and toast with Roasted tomato's on the counter her, a nervous voice broke the silence "I..I'll fix that for you, come, sit and have some breakfast. I hope you like black coffee cause I'm out of milk" She motioned for Henry to sit at the breakfast bar. Still not sure what was happening Henry followed his stomach. The food really did smell good and his stomach felt empty like he had not eaten in days. Sitting down the woman took his boxers from him and walked down the hall to a cupboard where it seemed she had a washer and dryer hidden away.

Henry started to eat not wanting to waste the hot food but with each mouthful he watched her. Her hair looked like Lucy's, but she was shorter and curvier. He watched as she finished setting the washing machine on and walked back down to the kitchen. Anxiety starting to sour his meal but deciding not to let it take control he chose to make the most of his awkward situation. Speaking between mouthfuls his deep voice rumbled " Mmmmm this is good, by the way, my names Henry, I'm sorry but I don't remember your name" He watched as her cheeks reddened but surprisingly she also looked like she was fighting back laughter. Tucking a strand of her reddish-brown hair behind her ear she said: "My names Reba" then turned around to pour the coffee into a mug. She looked so embarrassed at the moment that Henry felt sorry for her.

Wanting to rescue her, but still curious about what had happened, he smiled his best smile, the one that put his fans at ease when they were nervously taking photos with him. "Reba, that's an unusual name are your parents Reba McIntyre fans?" Reba turned back to him placing the hot coffee by his plate and smiled "Yes they were, Country music was played a lot in our house as I was growing up I would often walk out into the living room and find mum and dad dancing or rocking out to Reba" Chuckling at the picture she was painting he was thankful this question had seemed to relax her a bit, but now he needed to ask a more important question the one itching to be asked. "My heads a little unclear on what happened last night." Reba smiled a soft warm smile as if trying to ease his worries, the feeling startled him causing warmth to wrap around his middle.

He watched her take a deep breath and sitting down with her own breakfast she filled him in on the blanks. "I think you must have mistaken me for an ex-Girlfriend, you were really drunk but you have nothing to worry about you were still a gentleman, at least if I was your girlfriend. To a stranger, it was a little disconcerting. You are very strong and not easily dissuaded. Bob the bartender said you had been coming to the pub for a few years, and that you had always been good-natured even when drunk. So, I offered to drive you home seeing as your friends had nicked off on you. Once we got you in the car though it was obvious you couldn't tell me where to go so, I bought you here."

Everything Reba was saying held a sound of truth to Henry and he was embarrassed that he had imposed himself on this stranger. Rubbing his hand on the back of his neck he smiled a sheepish smile "I'm sorry to have imposed myself like that." she once again smiled that small smile at him again "It's ok, chalk it up to a new experience." He chuckled at her answer liking her light-hearted response.  Finishing his plate and wanting to not be an imposition he got up and bent down to put it into the dishwasher turning to ask another question he was interrupted "so Henry what do you do?"

Shocked and slightly offended that she didn't recognize him He crossed his arms across his bare chest and flexed his biceps a bit, noticing her blush he chuckled thinking this could be a very fun morning. Keeping his stance, he answered "I'm an Actor" not ready to give more info than that Henry smiled his famous smile thinking this could be fun hanging around someone who did know him.

Seeing that she was finished with her food Henry took her plate and placing it also in the dishwasher. Hoping his action of bending over would also make her blush he turned back around to catch it, only to be disappointed as she had moved to the couch looking the other way. She didn't look his way again but asked him whilst gazing out the window "So what kind of acting do you do?" Henry walked over to the couch sitting at the far end to Reba however the couch was so small that there was not much room between them. It was too small for his big frame and he had to arrange himself in a way that the towel would not open revealing all.  Stretching his arms along the back of the couch he looked at her to answer chuckling as he noticed the rosier hue still staining her cheeks. She seemed unable to look at him as he asked. "Have you heard of Man of Steel?" starting with his most famous film.

He watched as Reba scrunched up her nose in an adorable manner, then looked at him scrutinizing his face "I have heard of Man of steel but haven't had time to watch it yet any other films I might have seen?" Henry mentally noted her reactions as he spoke: "Mission Impossible – Fall out, Night Hunter, Justice League, Batman v Superman, The Man from Uncle, The cold light of day." Her face continued to look blank the blush almost completely gone replaced with her normal hue, slight frustration tickled his gut, as he thought, really? Maybe her job doesn't allow for much movie watching. "I've also done some Tv series – The Tudors and The Witcher" at the mention of this her face took on a shocked look. She seemed to be scrutinizing him even more, moving to put her legs under her she turned fully to face him. Her face then lit up and blushed with an all too familiar look he was used to seeing on his fans' faces. Her soft voice whispering in awe "You were Charles Brandon?"

Next Chapter 4

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[twomanyideas]

The Search for the Supreme Scent

Fan art used with permission from @x-thekid A Collaboration by @mdelpin and @oryu404​ with @x-thekid

Fairy Tail Reverse Bang 2020 Pairing: Gray x Natsu AO3 | Ch 1 | Next: Ch 2

Summary: Natsu has decided he’s lived with his feelings for Gray long enough. It was one thing when he thought that Gray and Juvia were together, but now that he knows differently, he refuses to wake up one morning only to find that it's too late.

When Erza forces the two of them to do a job, he discovers it's just the opportunity he needs.

0-0

This is our entry for the Fairy Tail Reverse Bang, which was a really fun event hosted by @ftguildevents.

We were lucky enough to be paired with @x-thekid who is the wonderful artist behind this fan art. You can see her post here. Please take a moment to let her know how much you liked her art!

A few notes:

This story touches upon three in-game quests - Isosceles or Love Triangle (Juvia Character Story), Monster Outbreak from the Very Difficult Requests Set DLC, and The Search for the Supreme Scent (Ichiya Character Story).

This AU has elements of Fairy Tail canon, game canon, as well as game elements we have attempted to incorporate into the story. An example of this is duels, which is an in-game mechanism and not at all as dramatic as Gray might make them sound. ;)

In the game all the playable characters are always at Fairy Tail, this includes Jellal, Ichiya, Kagura, Sting, Rogue, Lyon and Chelia.

We had a lot of fun working on this story and we hope you enjoy it! It is four chapters long and we will post a chapter daily until it is done.

Chapter 1

Natsu entered the newly restored Fairy Tail Guild in his usual manner, kicking the door open and announcing his presence.

“I’m back!”

Only a few people looked up from what they were doing, accustomed as they were to his loud entrances.

“Morning Natsu,” Lucy greeted from her spot at their team table.

“Oh, hey Lucy,” Natsu walked over to the table, plopping down across from her while Happy went off searching for the other Exceeds.

“Are you taking a job with the slayers today, or are we going on a team job?” Lucy asked, and from the look on her face, he could tell which answer she was hoping for.

“No rent money again?” he asked with a knowing smile.

“I’ve been going on a few requests with Levy and the others, but the jobs they take don’t tend to pay as much,” she explained quickly. “Although,” she teased, “there’s definitely a lot less destruction.”

Natsu chuckled. He certainly couldn’t say the same of the jobs he’d been going on. He was bad enough on his own, but adding Sting and Gajeel to the equation, it soon grew beyond anything he could have imagined.

“Sorry, Sting and Rogue should be here any minute.”

“Oh well, I’m sure I’ll figure something out,” Lucy began, but her voice was drowned out somewhat unexpectedly.

“For the last time. NO,” Gray’s yells cut through all conversations, and everyone turned to see what was happening. “I don’t want to go on another job with you!”

Gray stood by the request board, holding a flyer in his hand. His mouth was set in a hard line, but his fingers moved ever closer to the hem of his shirt, which Natsu knew meant he was anxious. Juvia stood next to him, leaving barely any space between them, as she usually did. Her eyes filled with tears at Gray’s tone, her gaze imploring him to change his mind, but it seemed for once the ice mage was determined not to back down.

Natsu heard the murmurs start, and given the things that were being said, he hoped Gray wasn’t able to.

“But Gray-sama, we make a perfect team,” Juvia pleaded, still determined to get her way, “Our magics are compatible, and Juvia can protect you better than anyone.”

“I don’t need protecting,” Gray scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. “What I need is a partner who can keep their head on the job, and not on me.”

“Juvia can do that!” Juvia exclaimed, utterly oblivious to the rebuke. Her tears disappeared, and in her excitement, she grabbed on to Gray’s arm.

Gray shook himself free from her grasp and took a step back. “I said, NO,” he repeated firmly.

The guild’s murmurs only grew louder and more disapproving of Gray as Juvia once again began to cry, running off towards one of the rear exits that led to the pool. Many heads turned to follow her, some even sparing sympathetic looks, but no one offered to check on her, and after a few awkward seconds, Gajeel sighed and stepped up to the task. Natsu couldn’t help but feel bad for his rival, although his mind was swimming from what he’d just seen. Gray, however, seemed to have had enough. One second he was there, the next he was gone, and all that could be heard was the sound of the heavy guild doors slamming shut.

Natsu was as shocked as everyone else. Gray had always had a temper. He knew that better than anyone, but it was unlike him to lash out at any of the girls.

“What was that about?” he asked Lucy, who, like Mira, usually knew just about everything that went on in the guild.

Lucy peered at the guild doors thoughtfully and shrugged, “I guess she finally pushed too hard.”

“I thought he liked going on jobs with her,” Natsu commented, his brows furrowing in confusion when Lucy began to laugh.

“You really have been gone a lot, haven’t you?”

“What do you mean?” he frowned, not liking that there was something about Gray he didn’t know.

“All I know is last week he practically begged me to go on a job with the two of them,” Lucy confided, “I thought Juvia was going to find a way to stab me with her eyes. It was so awkward.”

She glanced around the guild to make sure no one was paying any attention to them before revealing, “He looked miserable too. And the sad thing was when I asked him why he wanted me there,” Lucy paused, looking pained by her next words, “He said he didn’t feel like his body was safe around her.”

Natsu tried to come up with some sort of retort but found he couldn’t focus on anything but the maelstrom of emotions brewing inside him at hearing those words. On the one hand, he was cautiously hopeful that maybe Gajeel had been right when he’d told him he was reading too much into Gray’s relationship with Juvia. But that was short-lived. It was soon replaced by an increasing fury at the idea of Gray feeling that way about someone in their guild- the one place where they should all feel safe. “Aren’t Cana’s drinks great?” Erza commented as she joined them at the table, holding a mug full of some strawberry smelling concoction, and saving Natsu from having to come up with a reply.

“They sure are,” Lucy agreed, seeming just as relieved to change the subject. “Just the thing before going on a job.”

His two friends continued talking about some of the other upgrades they had added to the guild while Natsu struggled to control himself. He could understand being angry on Gray’s behalf, but this rage flowing through him seemed excessive, and it disturbed him.

Gray had always been able to take care of himself. He didn’t need protection from anyone, least of all him. Natsu tried to take part in the conversation around him when Juvia happened to walk past him. The hair on the back of his neck rose, and to his great shock, he found himself growling at her, his fists balled and ready to attack. Juvia gaped at him before hurrying away from their table.

Lucy glanced at him curiously while Erza’s eyes narrowed at the display. Natsu could already tell he was in for it, and he wasn’t disappointed when he felt the sharp sting of her fist connecting with his head.

“For goodness sake, pull yourself together, Natsu! Is that what you slayers do on these jobs, act like wild animals?”

“Of course not!” he complained, rubbing his head, even as he tried to figure out what the hell had just happened.

“Did we miss something?” Sting Eucliffe asked as he promptly shoved Natsu further into the booth to make room for him and Rogue. “We saw Gray as we came in. He looks pissed.”

Natsu shrugged in reply, not wanting to get into what had happened.

“Are Gajeel and Wendy here yet?” Rogue asked, looking around the guild for the other slayers.

Natsu could tell the moment Gray reentered the guild, not just by the surge of his familiar scent but also by the whispers. When the ice mage took his seat at their table, Natsu made sure to look down at the tabletop so that Gray wouldn’t be able to see his face, just in case it betrayed his feelings.

Natsu could feel the guild’s temperature drop a few degrees as soon as Gray noticed Sting and Rogue. “Great, you two are here again.”

“Gray!” Erza scolded, “Is that any way to talk to our friends?”

Gray covered his eyes with his hand in what Natsu recognized as a futile attempt to control himself. A few moments later, he fixed his gaze on Natsu and scoffed, “So I’m guessing you’re going off with them again today?”

Natsu nodded, not trusting his words not to anger Gray further when he was so clearly holding on by a tenuous thread.

“When you talked to us about this, you said this shit was only going to be once a week,” Gray reminded him.

“I haven’t been gone that often,” Natsu protested, even though he knew it was certainly more than they had initially planned. “I don’t hear anyone else complaining.”

“Oh, believe me, we’ve all done plenty of complaining. You just haven’t been around to hear it. Lucy can’t make her rent from the jobs she can manage on her own.”

“If you’re so worried about Lucy, why don’t you go on a job with her?” Natsu challenged.

“Hey!” Lucy snapped, “Leave me out of this.”

“That’s not the point, and you know it,” Gray pinched the bridge of his nose, “Ugh, you’re giving me a headache.”

“What’s the matter, Princess?” Natsu goaded, “You miss me?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Flame Brain. You’re neglecting your friends- our team- to go off to play with the other dragon slayers.” To make matters worse, Sting decided to butt into the conversation. “Nah, we’re not playing! We’re, uh...pushing each other to get stronger!” he grinned, casually resting his elbow on Natsu’s shoulder. “You know, similar magic and all that.”

“Oh God,” Rogue hid his face behind his hand, looking ready to slide underneath the table.

“Did you just say I’m weak?” Gray spat furiously.

“Huh? Where did you get that from?”

“Just shut up, you’re only making things worse,” Natsu scolded his friend.

“Natsu! You can’t talk to Sabertooth’s Guild Master like that!” Erza berated, horrified by his words.

“What?! He doesn’t care!”

“That’s it!” Gray pounded his fist on the table, “I challenge you to a duel!”

If looks could kill, Sting would have dropped dead that very second.

“Yes, that’s a great idea!” Lyon exclaimed, suddenly appearing next to Gray. “If Sting wins, Natsu and Wendy can go to Sabertooth. And if you win, they can stay in Fairy Tail!” “Not this crap again!” Gray scowled at his foster brother. “Where the hell did you even come from? And why are you people here all the time?!” he complained, raising his hands in disbelief at all the non-Fairy Tail mages lounging around. “Don’t you have your own guilds?”

“I don’t see what your problem is, “ Lyon shrugged, “seems to me like it would fix everything.”

“Oh, hell no, I do not agree to that,” Natsu chimed in, “I love you guys, but I am a Fairy Tail wizard.”

“What the hell, Flame Brain, are you implying I’m going to lose to him?” Gray scoffed, looking offended, although Natsu thought he caught a glimpse of hurt in the ice mage’s expression for a moment.

“What?! I didn’t say that!” Natsu objected, but Gray refused to look at him.

“Who even said we wanted you?” Rogue pointed out, even though it was evident that Sting’s eyes were already lit up at the idea of a challenge.

“ENOUGH!” Erza shrieked, and when they continued to bicker despite her outburst, she muttered, “I’m surrounded by complete idiots!”

She watched them for another minute, looking from one wizard to the next. She grabbed Natsu and Gray by the collar, swiftly realizing they were the only two she could do anything about. Knocking their heads together, she managed to shut up Sting, Rogue, and Lyon, who could only stare at her in shock.

“They’re all insane,” Rogue muttered under his breath, but thankfully Sting was the only one to hear him.

“I’m sorry I’m late. Carla wanted to stop at the market and-,” Wendy stopped mid-sentence, marking the unnatural quiet at a table filled with people known for their loudness. She peered closer, noticing Natsu and Gray glaring at each other and sporting two large bumps on their heads. “Did I miss something?”

She moved over to their side of the table, calling on her magic to heal them, although this didn’t seem to ease their hostility in the slightest.

Thankfully the awkwardness was interrupted by Master Makarov making his way over to the stage.

“Settle down brats, I have an announcement to make,” Makarov yelled from the stage, waiting for a few minutes until he was sure he had everyone’s attention. Peering at the faces that were now intent on him, he remarked cheerfully, “Oh good, I see many of our friends are here! This concerns you too.”

“Do you know what this is about, Erza?” Lucy whispered, but Erza only shook her head.

“We have been through a lot in the last couple of years. All of you have shown courage and skill far beyond your years, and I am incredibly proud of you.” Makarov beamed.

“Now, about eight years ago, we were rudely interrupted in the middle of one of our time-honored traditions, and I, for one, think it’s time we finish what we started.”

“S-Class Trials?” Natsu and Gray chorused eagerly.

“Indeed!” Makarov confirmed with a wide grin, “When I informed the Council of my intentions, they asked that I open the testing up to the other guilds since we currently have the best setup for it. For that reason, the rules have changed a bit.”

“There will be no nominations this time. As far as I’m concerned, you have all more than proven yourselves, so anyone who feels ready is welcome to participate. Teams can have up to five members and may include wizards from different guilds. You may ask one S-Class Wizard to be part of your team if you wish. Any team that completes every exam phase successfully will see all its members promoted to S-Class. The exam will once again take place on Tenrou Island."

“That’s all I have for now. I will have more details on the test itself once I have spoken to the other Guild Masters,” Makarov peered down at Sting and Rogue with a smile. “Master Sting, am I right to assume you and Rogue will be participating?”

"Of course we are!" Sting was almost glowing with excitement, and even Rogue gave an eager nod.

“Alright then, we’ll figure out a way to keep you in the loop so you can pass the information along to the rest of your guild,” Makarov informed him, “We’ll talk about it later.”

Sting nodded in agreement, and Makarov turned his attention back to the others, “ I want you all to think about whether you will take part in the exam or not. I firmly believe you’re all capable of this, but only you can decide if you’re up to it. I’ll need your response by the end of the week, along with a list of your team members.”

With that, Makarov walked off the stage and made his way over to Cana’s bar, climbing onto a stool and ordering a drink. Everyone began to talk all at once, the guild’s noise rising to almost unbearable proportions for the dragon slayers.

Natsu couldn’t contain his excitement any more than the others; he would finally become S-Class! Something he and Gray had dreamed of doing from the moment Erza had joined their ranks so many years ago. He looked towards where Gray had been sitting just a few minutes earlier, only to find the seat empty.

[ghstandpucks]

Misguided Ghost Ch. 7

A.N.: I hope everyone is enjoying the story! I enjoy hearing from you :) Let me know what you are all thinking so far about Zak and Y/N! Stay safe out there!

Lockdown

Thursday morning we all loaded into the van and headed toward the old warehouse. I was looking through my notes, hoping I wouldn’t have to open them up once the cameras were on. I wanted to look like I was confident in what I knew, not have my face stuck in my notebook the whole time. The weather was nice for the day. I had on a short black skirt with a white flower print, a denim button up top that I had tied up at the start of the skirt at my waist, red tights, brown boots and my tan heavy cardigan. I had braided my hair into a half up do. I thought I looked nice for my first presentation on the show. I wanted to be professional and show the fans that I would be an asset to the team.

Once we got to the location, we all piled out of the van and met with the property’s owner. Billy, Aaron and Nick got the cameras rolling while I just did whatever they asked me to. As I held a camera Billy had handed to me while he set up the mics, Zak walked over to me. “Are you ready for your introduction?” He asked. I felt my heart start to beat quicker. This was actually happening.

           “I already looked like an idiot in Aaron’s insta story. This can’t be much worse right?” I fake laughed, realizing I was actually nervous. Billy took the camera from me and then handed me a mic, telling me how to put it on. I kept fumbling with the clip, my hands shaking slightly, almost dropping it.

           “Here, I got it,” Zak said softly, taking it from me and helping place it. “Relax, you’re going to be great. And I will cut you off if you start rambling,” he reassured me. I laughed quietly at that and nodded. “Seriously though, I need you to breath Y/N.”

           “I just don’t want to disappoint you guys,” I spoke quietly. Zak chuckled.

           “I hardly doubt that.” I looked up at him to see a genuine smile on his face. I took a deep breath and nodded, smiling back.

           “Alright, we are good to go,” Billy called out.

           “I want to do the intro, then introduce Y/N to discuss the history,” Zak said, giving me one last smile, then walked toward the warehouse. I watched from behind Billy as Zak introduced the location and a few reasons as to why we were here. “I now want to introduce the newest member of the Ghost Adventures Crew. We were in need of a historian, someone who could focus specifically on the background of the locations we investigate. So if she would come over here, that would be great,” Zak motioned for me to join him as Aaron panned his camera toward me. I smiled softly, looking down as I walked over to Zak to make sure I didn’t trip over a rock. “Everyone, this is Y/N Y/L/N. Say hi Y/N,” Zak smiled. I turned toward the guys and gave a little wave.

           “Hi,” that was all that I could think of saying at the moment. I think the guys could feel my awkwardness because they all gave a chuckle.

           “She has a master’s degree in history and has done some great background research on locations we are considering. So Y/N, why don’t you tell us a little about this place,” Zak filled in. I smiled and started giving the background. I was now in my element, speaking about history. I tried to ignore Nick moving around to get different shots while I talked and focused on the most interesting and important facts of the place. I realized I was talking too fast when I glanced at Aaron and he made a motion with his hand, mouthing ‘slow down’. I let out a nervous laugh and apologized if I was going to quickly, then finished what I was saying.

           “So yeah, that’s pretty much the background on this place,” I concluded, putting my hands behind my back because I could feel them shaking still. Zak gave a deep laugh.

           “Wow, that was a lot to take in,” Nick laughed.

           “Sorry if I talked too fast,” I apologized. Then I realized they were still filming. I looked at the camera and said sorry again.

           “You’re fine, that was impressive,” Zak stepped in. I smiled as we all started walking into the warehouse with the property owner. As we went along different hallways, Zak would ask me if I had any information on different spots or hauntings that the owner brought up. I would chime in when asked, but stayed quiet else wise and stuck by Aaron and Billy. We were on the second floor of the warehouse when I started to feel a bit uneasy, like we were being watch. Zak mentioned that he felt that way out loud and we all agreed. Zak and Nick continued interviewing the owner when we got to a doorway. I stopped and looked in, taking a step forward and standing in the door frame. I couldn’t hear the guys talking anymore, just the sound of my own heartbeat. I wonder if they kept walking? I didn’t bother to look though, as my eyes stayed glue to the interior of the room. It was empty with some graffiti on the peeling paint walls. Without realizing it, I felt a tear drop down my cheek, then another. In what felt like a matter of seconds, I was crying. Why was I so upset? I wasn’t sad when we walked in here. I will admit that I am a crier, no matter what feeling I have. Loved one died, cry. Angry or upset with someone, cry. Confused, cry. Happy cute commercial, cry. You get it. But this was different. In the blink of eye, I felt an overwhelming sense of sadness. And I just stood there, glued to the floor.

           I thought I heard my name being called, but it sounded as if it were far away. I couldn’t bring myself to leave the door frame, let alone look around. Suddenly, there was a hand on my shoulder, making me jump. Whatever trance I was in had gone, but I still had tears running down my face. I stepped out of the doorframe and backed right into a hard figure. The hands on my shoulders steadied me as I turned around to find Zak and the others, looking at me with concern. “Mia what’s wrong?” Zak asked softly. I shook my head and quickly wiped away my tears with my sleeve.

           “I don’t know,” I said softly, my voice barely coming out. Zak reached out, but I took a step back trying to compose myself. I felt like if someone touched me right now I would break. I knew the cameras were still running, so I turned away slightly to try to pull myself together.

           “That happens a lot in this building. In that room,” The owner spoke up. “Especially to females,” I nodded and tried to think of what would have happened there, then it came to me. The widow.

           “It’s her,” I said, looking at Zak. He gave me a confused look.

           “Who?” he asked.

           “Lucy Varna. The widow I told you about yesterday. She died in that room, from grief and loneliness,” I connected the dots. “I think that’s what I was feeling because I honestly have no other reason to be crying right now.”

           “Did you hear us calling for you?” Nick asked, eyebrows furrowed.

           “Vaguely. It sounded like you guys were far away. I didn’t even hear you walk over to me to be honest,” I confessed. The guys nodded their heads, the owner speaking up again.

           “I’ve seen other women become the same way. They don’t know where they are for a moment and completely disregard anything others say until they are actually moved away from the spot. Some crying, some going catatonic on us,” he said.

           “Lucy must be reaching out to other females thinking they will understand her pain more. But why is she still here?” Zak asked, turning to me. I thought back to my research yesterday.

           “Her husband and son were killed in a freak snow storm while they were staying here when it was a hotel in the 1800s. They never returned and she kept paying to stay, hoping they would return. They weren’t found until the snow melted two weeks later. She stopped eating and drinking, basically starving to death in her grief. She must still be waiting for them to come back,” I informed everyone.

           “Wow,” Aaron breathed out.

           “Well Y/N, we know where you are going tonight,” Zak spoke, putting his hand on my shoulder. I smiled weakly at him, letting out a nervous laugh.

~ ~ ~        

           We spent the rest of the day doing interviews and marking the place for x-cams. Friday morning came and we got breakfast together, preparing for the lockdown. I was nervous, but trying not to show it. I basically just did what was asked of me to help set up, and then walked around in the dark with a camera as we began the investigation that night. We were getting some great evidence, and I had been with either Zak or Aaron the whole time. Around 2:30 in the morning, I was walking with Zak on the second floor. “Alright Y/N, I think it’s time you check out that room by yourself,” Zak said, looking over at me. I looked at him through the night vision on the camera and took a deep breath.

           “What ever you say boss,” I tried to joke through my nerves. Zak shook his head, but smiled.

           “You have a walkie and Billy can see the x-cam we have in the room. If you need us, just shout. I won’t be too far, just down the hallway,” He said. I nodded and watched as he started to walk away. Turning toward the room, I stepped in and stood against the wall. The atmosphere automatically changed, and I could feel the sadness from yesterday creeping up again. Not wanting to look weak, I tried to hold my tears back and started talking.

           “Ok, I feel sad like I did yesterday. I wasn’t feeling that way until I walked in here. So here goes nothing,” I said into my camera. “Lucy, if you’re here can you let me know? Make a noise or something?” There was nothing, so I turned on the Ovilus that Billy had handed me earlier to try to communicate better. “Lucy, my name is Y/N. I know what happened to your husband and son. I’m so sorry, that must have been terrible. I can’t imagine your pain,” I paused. Sad then showed up on the Ovilus. I jumped slightly, not expecting the response. “Are people feeling your sadness in this room?” I asked. At this point I had tears building up behind my eyes and I couldn’t hold them back anymore. I tried to talk, but all that came out was a huge sob. I couldn’t see anything in front of me anymore as the tears started to blur my sight and my back slid down the wall. Sorry I heard again from the Ovilus, but at a distance.

Zak’s POV

           “Zak, you need to go get Y/N,” Billy’s voice came through the walkie. I paused what I was doing and turned back down the hallway toward the room I left her in.

           “What’s wrong?” I asked, concerned. I didn’t hear her call out so I thought she was fine.

           “She just slid down the wall to the floor and is sobbing. I was trying to get her attention but she isn’t answering her walkie,” he informed me. I picked up the pace and slightly jogged over to the room. Whatever was in there wasn’t harmful, but it definitely was able to effect people. I knew leaving Mia there could have this outcome potentially, but I wasn’t prepared for the feeling I got when I found her, knees pulled up into her chest and head down. I could hear her sobbing and she didn’t move as I approached her. Sorry. I looked at the Ovilus Y/N was clutching. Was the spirit sorry she made her feel this way? I crouched down and put my hand on her shoulder. Y/N jumped, looking up at me. I could feel my heart start to break at the sight. Sure, I was an ass to this girl for the first week, but it didn’t mean that I didn’t accept her as part of the team. She was always so bubbly that seeing her this upset was unnerving. “Are you hurt?” I asked her softly. She shook her head as another sob came out. I tried to get her to stand up but when she wouldn’t budge, I set my camera down and picked her up. When I got her out of the room and started walking toward the stairs to get to base, Y/N started to come around more. Her arms snaked around my neck as she buried her head into my shoulder.

           “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

           “You have nothing to be sorry about,” I shook my head, looking down at her. She was shaking slightly. I walked into the room that we had set up base in and set her down in a chair, taking my jacket off and draping it over her shoulders.

           “What the hell happened?” Billy asked me. I crouched down in front of Y/N and couldn’t help but reach out to wipe away her tears. Her Y/E/C eyes finally focused on me and I realized I could get lost in them if we were alone.

           “You need to tell Lucy it’s ok to leave,” she said quietly. I nodded and stood up.

           “Look after her?” I asked Billy. He agreed and pulled his chair over to sit next to her. By this time Y/N wasn’t sobbing anymore, her tears starting to dry.

           I went back upstairs and tried to make contact with Lucy. I told her that Y/N was fine, and she wanted her to know that it was alright to leave. A thank you came through the Ovilus and the atmosphere felt empty again. I met back up with Aaron and Nick as we started taking x-cams down around 4am. We loaded the van up and did a final sweep to make sure we had everything. Y/N had been quiet this whole time. In the dim morning light, I could see that her cheeks were a rosy red. Whether it was from the cold or crying I wasn’t sure, but I couldn’t shake what I was starting to feel for her. She had put my jacket on completely, and it swallowed her petite figure. She looked soft and innocent, everything I’m not. And even with puffy eyes from crying, I couldn’t help but think she was beautiful.

           “You’re staring,” Nick elbowed me as he put the last of the equipment in the van.

           “No I’m not,” I defended myself pathetically. Nick rolled his eyes and chuckled.

           “What ever you say,” he said under his breath as we loaded into the van to head back to the hotel.      

[let-it-raines]

Catch Me If You Can (28/40)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

A/n: I know everyone is caught up in JJ Sneed land if my dash is any indication, but I know some people are itching for a new chapter today! So here we are!

Also, everyone go check out this FANTASTIC piece of artwork from @imagnifika​ | here | because it’s awesome, and I’m still blown away by it and seeing this story come to life in someone else’s eyes! Let me stare at it forever. Thanks to @resident-of-storybrooke​ for reading all these words and being a great encourager! 💙

AO3: Beginning | Current

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Tag list:  @stunningswan​ @eala-captian @galaxyzxstark @xellewoods @mariakov81 @ultraluckycatnd @royalswan @shey-starsfury​ @superchocovian​ @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @karenfrommisthaven @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @notoriouscs @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog​ @cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @qualitycoffeethings​ 

-/-

There are technically eight different types of cookies, and it all depends on how exactly they’re baked or, well, not baked. This isn’t something Killian knew until about two o’clock this morning when he was googling cookie recipes desperate to find something other than chocolate chip cookies to bake. But then he got sucked into a wormhole of research and discovering the difference between rolled cookies, bar cookies, and dropped cookies.

Seriously. There is an entire website on the history of cookies. He looked at it for an hour. It’s kind of insane.

It’s also not really important to him, but weird things happen in the middle of the night, especially since he hasn’t been sleeping well the past few days and his mind needed to focus on something concrete.

That’s also how he ended up wandering to the nearest twenty-four-hour market at three in the morning to buy ingredients for black and white cookies, buckeyes, and sugar cookies. He doesn’t even know how or why he picked those three. All Killian knows is that he’s been stress baking for days now, something that’s a bit hard to do when he’s trying to take it easy on his right arm, and he’s pretty much wiped out all of his cabinets of the good ingredients.

His refrigerator, however, looks like a bakery threw up inside of it. He really needs to take some of the things to Liam and Elsa, but when he went to their house yesterday, all Addy and Lucy wanted to talk about was his arm and Emma and even though it was completely innocent, it was too much for him. He can’t quite go back to give them cookies if all they’re going to talk about is Emma.

Every bit of this is his fault. He owns up to that. 

But it’s still too much.

The fact that Ariel, Eric, Will, and Robin are all pissed beyond belief at him doesn’t help. He’s sure that for the four of them things will go back to normal soon. He doesn’t know for sure, but he thinks they will. He’ll never be able to clutch his shoulder again without having someone yelling at him to go see a doctor, but that’s likely for the best.

(Killian should have gone to a fucking doctor.)

They all deserve the multitude of sweets in his fridge. He’d take them to each of their apartments now, but they’re all still too pissed that he lied to them over and over again. Plus, they’re leaving for Boston tomorrow morning and likely busy even though today is their last day off from the small break that they got after Labor Day.

He’s not leaving for Boston. He’s staying right here sitting on his ass surrounded by cookies.

Emma’s going to Boston. At least, he thinks that she is. She should be. He’ll have to ask her when she comes over.

When she comes over.

Emma is coming over today. In about fifteen minutes actually, and that’s entirely why he’s been stress baking (more than usual) throughout the entire night. Killian doesn’t even know how he looks right now. There are probably some major bags under his eyes and his hair is all over the place, and he wouldn’t be surprised if he had flour or icing or even both smeared all over him.

Shit. He hasn’t shaved in four days.

For some reason, it’s that that thought that has Killian dropping his piping bag he was using to frost the sugar cookies to turn the corner in his apartment and run down the hallway to get to his bedroom so he can shower. In the past few days, in all of his moping and self-inflicted misery, he managed to pick up all of Emma’s clothes and hung them in the closet. That might be a little too hopeful thinking, but it seemed like the natural thing to do.

The sticky notes, though, have stayed exactly where they are, and he looks at them before quickly twisting the nobs on his shower and stepping inside the moment the water gets to an acceptable temperature. He doesn’t have much time, so Killian picks up his body wash, leaving Emma’s where it is, and scrubs over his body while doing some light stretches with his shoulder. He needs to put another ice pack on there.

That’ll have to come after this.

Six minutes later, Killian is out of the shower. Two minutes after that, he’s dressed in a pair of his gym shorts and a t-shirt, one from a charity game he played last year, and after looking in the mirror, he knows that he doesn’t have time to shave, not if he wants to brush his teeth again.

He should probably brush his teeth for…reasons.

That’s optimistic.

Killian can’t help it. For four days he has felt his entire world crumbling around him, and it’s been his fault. He’s known that it was. There was no denying it even when he most wanted to, and he’s wanted to a hell of a lot.

Missing the rest of the season, possibly having to miss parts of the play-offs which could mean that he could miss the World Series, is obviously crushing. There’s no denying that. The game has been his life for nearly twenty-three years, and he doesn’t want to keep screwing things up. His track record might not show that, but it’s true. He’s going to try to be better. He’ll go to all of his therapy, tell those who need to know when he’s hurting, and he’s not going to overdo it. He’s not.

But as much as all of the stuff with his job is killing him, not having Emma to talk to is worse.

The game was his life for so long, and while he doesn’t want to say that Emma is his entire life now, she’s up there in the most important category.

Probably topping the list.

Everything about his life has her mark on it. From the clothes in his closet and the bottles in his shower to the coffee creamer in his fridge and the throw blanket that she left on his couch. There are all of these physical signs that show how she’s changed things, but he knows that a hell of a lot of how Emma has impacted his life comes in the way that he’s more conscious about spending times with his loved ones or the fact that his demons don’t seem to find him as much in the dark of the night. The smile that was missing for so many years has found its place again.

Emma didn’t fix his flaws. They’re all still there. But she has inadvertently helped him to be a better person.

Even if he is still screwing up and will continue to.

Killian loves Emma, and there is no denying that. None at all. He’d never try to.

“Why does it smell like Little Debbie threw up in here?”

Killian’s head turns at the sound of Emma’s voice, and even though it causes the slightest sting to his shoulder, he doesn’t care. Because she’s real and standing in front of him wearing running shorts and a tank top, her hair tucked into a Yankees cap so that he can’t really see the green of her eyes. But he can see the timid, hesitant smile, and he never wants her to be hesitant to see him again.

“How did you – ”

She holds up a key. “I have a key. Figured it was still okay for me to use it.”

“Yeah, love.” Killian smiles and grabs a clean hand towel to dry off his hair so he’s not soaking wet. “That’s perfectly fine.”

“Good. So why does it smell like Little Debbie threw up in here?”

“Stress baking. Do you want a cookie? Or brownies? I have a large parfait. There’s also a cake that was meant for…the other day, but it’s a damn mess.”

Emma lets out a small laugh and shakes her head while her hand reaches for the chain around her neck, her fingers fumbling with it. His breath hitches at the sight. Over the past few days, his hand has instinctively clutched for it, reaching out and trying to find something to hold onto, and every time he comes up empty. He gave that to Emma because he wanted her to have it, and nothing about that has changed.

His mom would want her to have it. She’d love Emma. Killian doesn’t remember that much about her, but he knows that she would love Emma. They have that same kind spirit and an infectious laugh that makes everyone else in the room want to laugh along.

Bloody breathtaking.

And hopefully the ring brought her luck and comfort when she got to commentate the other day, and hopefully she knew that he was cheering her on the entire time. He still hasn’t heard how that went. He almost watched the replay of the game so that he could see for himself, but it felt wrong to do that without Emma and to know that most of the tape would be focused on his injury anyways.

That’s not how it should be.

And maybe a part of him couldn’t handle hearing her voice as she had to speak after seeing him leave the mound.

“I might want a cookie later,” Emma says, shrugging her shoulder. “I feel like if I start eating now, I’ll consume everything like I’m a vacuum.”

“Isn’t that how you usually eat?”

She’s closer now, so he can see her roll her eyes. “I’m still mad at you, so I’d watch what you say.”

That sobers Killian up, the playful smile tugging at his lips disappearing into a firm line, and he nods his head while his left hand reaches up to scratch behind his head. “Aye. Do you want to go talk in the living room?”

“Yeah.”

Emma turns on her heel and walks out of his bedroom, and he’s following right behind her. As much as his stomach is absolutely churning right now, Killian knows that the sooner they have this talk, the better. Unless, of course, it ends with Emma ending things between them. That’s not for the better. If it’s what she wants, it’s what she wants, but he can’t believe that it’s for the better even if he is an idiot who likes to mess things up.

Emma grabs her throw blanket from the basket and sits down in his oversized arm chairarmchair, settling herself in like she’s comfortable here, and he likes that she’s still comfortable here. That comforts him. Killian doesn’t grab a blanket, but he does sit down on the couch and pull a pillow to his chest so that he has something for his hands to do.

Is his heart still working? He’s not sure.

“How’s your arm?” Emma starts. This is probably the conversation she feels most comfortable with, and he doesn’t blame her.

“It’s okay. I need to ice it soon, but I’ll be fine. Just a lot of resting it, which is harder than I thought it would be.”

“Do you want to ice it now?”

“No, no, Swan. It’s fine. I promise. I know – I’m sorry that I lied to you.” They aren’t the words Killian meant to say quite yet, but he does mean them. “I truly am. I can’t express how much of an idiot that I am. I hid away something really damn important from everyone when I should have shared it the first time my arm started hurting. I should have gone through the steps of preventing this. I should have told you what really happened with my accident. I should have told you everything that I didn’t tell you, and I can’t imagine how shitty it makes you feel that I didn’t.”

Emma scoffs. “Pretty shitty.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I just – ” She lets out a big sigh and adjusts the blanket over her legs again. “You don’t have to keep apologizing. I know you’re sorry, and I believe you when you say that. I’m sorry that you’ve been going through all of this alone and that you haven’t felt like you could tell someone, but it did…it does hurt me that you couldn’t tell me. People have always let me down, and – ”

“I never intended to let you down.”

Emma smiles, something soft and a little sad, and he swears that it breaks his heart the slightest bit. “I know that. It took running far too much, eating my weight in food, and then having Ruby talk some sense into me, but I know. And it’s why I’m going to choose to see the best in you.”

Good.

Good. This is going a hell of a lot better than he thought it would, but he’s still terrified that maybe he doesn’t deserve this forgiveness from her.

“And I you.”

“I mean, there wasn’t a lot of bad to see about me.”

Killian laughs, for what is probably the first time in days, and something inside of him rights itself so that the pieces of the puzzle continue to click into place instead of being all mixed together.

“Well, not in this particular situation, no.”

Emma’s smile is a little more hopeful now, and he watches it change as she tugs on the brim of her baseball cap. “Why didn’t you tell anyone, Killian? Be honest with me. If we’re going to continue to make this work, and I really do want to make this work, you have to be honest with me. I’m done with guys who aren’t honest.”

He knew this question was coming, has had to answer it before, but no answer seems like it’s enough. They all fall short, and he knows that’s because he fell short in who everyone was expecting him to be. In who he was expecting himself to be too.

“I was scared. That sounds like such a pathetic excuse, but it’s my truth. I have been through a hell of a lot of ups and downs in the past nine years, and I had finally gotten out of the downs when the accident happened. I worked so damn hard, love. I – ” He stops to take a breath, still at a loss for words since it all sounds ridiculous and yet makes perfect sense in his mind. “I finally had my life back on track. Things were going really well for me, and I was pissed that it was all taken away from me because some kids were drunk and driving a boat. I didn’t think I’d ever get the game back, but I did, you know? I was on top of the world, so when my arm started to hurt again, despite all of my better judgment, I figured if I never said anything, I’d never have it all taken away from me. And not telling you about any of it…I don’t know. I guess I didn’t want you to think of me as being any more broken than I already am.”

That’s it. That’s his truth. There’s no altering it or making it better or making him seem like less of an idiot. That’s simply it.

Emma said she’d see the best in him. He hopes that’s true.

For a moment he thinks it’s not because Emma is rising from her chair, and he fully expects her to walk out the door despite everything they’ve already said today and when they talked in Elsa’s office. But she doesn’t leave. Instead, she walks toward him and very slowly places her knees on either side of his thighs and leans down to sit on his lap so that they’re nearly eye level when the palms of her hands land on his cheeks and he can finally see the green of her eyes again underneath her baseball cap.

He’s now realizing the cap is his.

And it feels really damn good to feel the touch of Emma’s hands again. That’s also what has him wrapping his arms around her lower back and tugging her closer while Emma continues to rub her thumbs under his eyes in soothing circles.

“Killian, I am obviously not the most emotionally equip person in the world and am not the best with words, but you have to know that you and me, we both have shitty pasts. We both have things that we’re terrified of and sensitive to, and I think that’s why we work. You understand that I’m not going to leap head first into things, and I understand that you have this weird sense of self-loathing that you shouldn’t have. You were terrified of losing something you love. I would be too.”

“You were pretty damn good with words there.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve had a lot of time to think about things.”

“I like you thinking.”

“Funny, most men don’t.”

Killian chuckles and leans forward to rest his head against Emma’s shoulder, and he takes the moment to breathe her in and breathe in the smell of her perfume. The pillow next to his has smelled like hers for the past few days, but it’s nothing compared to the real thing.

“I’m not going to lie to you again,” he mumbles into her skin while her hands start messing with his hair so that vibrations are running down his spine. “Or my family. Or my teammates. I promise I’ll be smarter, yeah?”

He tilts his head up to look at Emma, and he’s about to say something else when she leans forward and presses her mouth to his. He’s kissed her hundreds of times, probably more than that – he’s not counting – but there’s something different about the way that her mouth moves over his now. It’s slower, more passionate even if he knows it isn’t leading to something more than this, and the raw emotion of it all travels from his lips to the pit of his stomach before moving back up to his heart and constricting it.

But in the best way.

Killian has missed  her.

He has missed the sound of her laugh and the way that she hogs the entire couch. He has missed the way she tastes and the fact that she never seems to put her dishes away on time. He has missed the notebooks she leaves around with all of her mid-game scribbling and the way that she can’t seem to make up her mind on what she wants to eat for dinner. Barely any time has passed, but not knowing exactly what’s coming next even more than usual has put a hell of a lot of things in perspective for him.

His love for Emma is one of the most important things in his life, and he doesn’t want to ever jeopardize it again by not being able to own up to his past and how it still has a stranglehold on his present.

Killian gently pecks her lips one, two, three times before trailing along the side of her neck and peppering kisses against her skin, never moving his hands from where they’re holding her to him.

“I love you so much,” he murmurs, the desperation obvious in his own ears. “You have no idea.”

“I think I might have a bit of an idea,” Emma laughs as he leans back to look at her again, the brightest smile he’s seen all day stretched across her lips. “I love you too, by the way. But I still hope everyone you know gives you shit about this whole thing until we all know for sure that you’re not going to keep hiding things as important as your health.”

“I would expect nothing less,” he sighs. “Now, I don’t know about you, Swan, but my girlfriend had a very big day at work the other day, and I still haven’t heard about it.”

“Oh, we don’t have to talk about it.”

“No, no. I want to hear every detail. I almost watched the tape, but I figured that’d be a little miserable hearing your voice while watching myself be an idiot on the field.”

“Yeah, that would probably suck.”

“Exactly. So, tell me all about it. I’m all ears.” Emma opens her mouth, but he stops her. “Aye, I know – little pointy ones.”

Emma does tell him all about it. For a few minutes, she’s kind of fumbling around trying to find her storytelling stride, but then she settles in and knows exactly where she’s going with her tale. She’s not one to talk a lot, even when it comes to him, but when it’s something that Emma is passionate about, she could talk for hours without taking a breath.

Emma is passionate about this.

He can tell in the way the smile on her face rarely dissipates and with how she keeps using her hands far more often than she normally was. Plus, her voice gets that little bit higher in pitch, and he has to bite his tongue not to tease her about it. He also has to bite his tongue when she starts detailing all of the petty little ways that Isaac and James tried to demean her instead of acting like professionals. Emma promises that it wasn’t too bad, but Killian can tell that their little digs bothered her, especially the ones about her integrity and him.

Killian shudders at the thought of their relationship becoming public because of the hell hole that it’ll put Emma into no matter how respected she is in her field by those who actually know what they’re talking about.

A part of that will always be on him and his actions of ten months ago, but he’s under strict instructions not to apologize for that again. And right nownow isn’t about him and his own self-loathing. He’s already taken away days of both of their lives for that, and he’s not going to do that any longer.

Right here, right now…this is about Emma finally getting to do something she’s dreamed about.

He does get up in the middle of her going on about what it was like after his injury – which sounds more than horrific for her – to get his ice pack, and that causes them to trail off onto all of the exact details of his tendonitis and his treatment. He promises Emma that it’s truly not that bad, but that his case is a little bit more intense with his history and the particular severity of it all. That’s when she asks him when exactly it hurts, and the pain on her face when he tells her he can feel it pretty much any time he moves his right arm more than a few inches is not a pained face he wants to keep on seeing from her.

But it only gets worse when Killian details that sometimes it’s so bad that it wakes him up from sleep, and Emma starts to piece together all of the times she’s woken up in the middle of the night to find him out of bed at odd hours.

Bloody idiot. That’s exactly what he is.

It’ll get better though, with rest and physical therapy and a little bit of luck, and as much as it sucks, it could be worse. This could all be worse. He’s not going to let it, though, as he’s not going to be dumb enough to not get treatment and to keep pushing himself further than his physical limits.

And as much as Killian would like to be able to hover over Emma and roll his hips into hers and join their bodies together after what feels like forever apart even if it’s only a few days, he knows that he’s not quite physically able to today. Emma, though, the spirited lass that she is, lets a smirk curl across her lips as she directs him back to his bedroom and tells him to lie on his back as she takes the lead so that he doesn’t have to move his shoulder too much.

Creative solutions have always been the best solutions.

It’s glorious being joined with Emma again, feeling her warmly wrapped around him as she moves above him in slow circles that have him dying in the haze of ecstasy. His mom’s ring falls between her breasts with each movement, and his good arm reaches up to toy with it. She’s going particularly slow, each roll of her hips seemingly meaning something deeper, and as good as it feels, a part of him thinks it’s some kind of torture since she knows he can’t do most of the things he’s usually capable of doing.

The sly smile on her face when he tries to thrust up into her and go deeper inside of her tells him that he’s right.

The minx.

And if slow and steady is what Emma wants, it’s exactly what she’ll get. She’s always been one to take charge.

The heat simmering between them must eventually begin to burn, however, because the rolls of her hips become faster and she places his hand where they’re joined so that he can help her find her bliss in the few minutes before he finds his, little shocks of electricity working down to the base of his spine as he comes undone with Emma’s name on his lips and his love for her curling around each and every other word that he manages to mutter.

Almost losing her, even if he didn’t think this would truly tear them apart despite the way his mind kept convincing him that it would, has made him appreciate Emma in ways that he hadn’t before.

He thought he appreciated her in every way, but there are always things to learn.

“I have so many damn cookies,” Killian laughs later, after they’ve cleaned up and crawled back under the covers, a new pack of ice on his shoulder and his body pleasurably aching. “I have no idea what I’m going to do with them.”

Emma laughs against his chest where she’s curled up, her hand over his heart and her feet tucked in between his calves so that they’re back where they belong. “I would say I could take them with me on the road trip, but then I’d have to check a bag to get them with me through TSA. Or maybe not. I’m always confused on the food thing.”

Oh.

He’d nearly forgotten that life was moving on outside of his bedroom and this bed and the freckles scattered over Emma’s skin. The only clothing she has on is the necklace, and he’d like to keep it that way for as long as possible.

“So, you are going to Boston then?”

Emma hums. “And then Detroit after that. I have off for the Blue Jays, though, so I’ll be coming back home instead of going to Canada.”

His hand scratches against her back, drawing lines and words and anything that he can simply to feel her again. “I hate that I’m not going to be traveling with you.”

“It’s going to be kind of weird,” she whispers before pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “I’m going to have a hotel bed to myself.”

“To be fair, you pretty much always have the bed to yourself even when I am around.”

“You have been forgiven for about two hours now, and you’re already talking shit about my bed hogging. That’s a bold move there, Jones.’

“Oh, I know,” he yawns, his lack of sleep catching up to him even if it’s only six in the evening, “but I’ve slept alone for a few days now, and let me tell you, it’s glorious.”

Emma scoffs against his chest before sitting up so that she’s looking down at him under her mess of wild blonde hair that’s curling over her chest. “You’re being an ass.”

“Well, we have undoubtedly decided that I am an ass, right?”

“Pretty much.”

Emma’s arms stretch over her head, the muscles of her stomach on display, before she’s rolling off of the bed and standing up so that he has a particular good view of her ass that has his body humming. But then she’s walking to his dresser and pulling out a t-shirt to put on. She obviously pulled it from the back because it’s an older one he hasn’t seen in years, and he imagines he’ll probably never see it again with Emma’s penchant for stealing his things.

“You going somewhere, love?”

“Yeah,” she sighs as the t-shirt lifts from her thighs when she’s pulling her hair back up into a messy bun on the top of her head. “You have a bowl of icing in your kitchen, and the TV in the living room is better than the TV in here. If we’re not going to the US Open because I don’t want to leave this apartment until I absolutely have to, I’m going to watch it here.”

“Do you want me to join you?”

“Eh,” she teases, shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t really care. Apparently, I am a bed hog, so I’m leaving you here to have the entire bed by yourself while I go lounge about on the couch eating the sweets you made while you were mooning over me.”

“You’re impossible.”

Emma winks. “And you love me for it.”

[timelordthirteen]

Night Shift

Mr. Gold/Lacey French, Mature

Summary: You got a nine to five, so I'll take the night shift, and I'll never see you again if I can help it.

Notes: Inspired by one of my favorite Golden Lace-centric songs Night Shift by Lucy Dacus. I have been wanting to write this fic forever and here we go. (Let's be real, I am easy and will probably write more of this if prompted.) For the 31 Days prompt #5: Rings.

[AO3]

The rings shone in the fading afternoon light, diamonds and gemstones casting a glitter of tiny rainbows across the black velvet of the jewelry case.

Gold gave the glass one last swipe with a rag and sighed. A few minutes later, he turned the key in the lock and then pulled it free, rattling the bell on the other side as the door to the pawn shop shuddered on its hinges. He slipped the key into the pocket of his wool overcoat and turned to glare up at the darkening sky. The days seemed so short this time of year, and while he wasn’t one to be all that affected by the change in seasons, he wasn’t much of a fan of winter. Snow and ice was treacherous when one walked with a cane, and the ceaseless onslaught of holiday after holiday became more irritating with every year that passed.

He pulled his scarf up higher on either side of his neck, feeling the leather of his gloves pull tight where it caught on the ring he flatly refused to take off, and walked the short distance to the corner where his black Cadillac was parked. Every morning at nine, he opened the pawn shop on Main Street, just a block down and across the road from Granny’s Diner, and every evening at five he closed it. He went home to a large salmon colored Victorian house on Morning Glory Lane, made himself something for dinner, and finished the night with a glass of scotch, the accounting ledgers from his shop, and the drone of the television on in the background.

His life was order and routine, and had been so for nearly every year since he’d moved to the small town of Storybrooke, Maine. The only exception had been the short time when he’d dared to let one other single human being into his existence. But that had ended rather abruptly and spectacularly, to the surprise of no one who had ever known him. He was a difficult man to love, to say the least, and one needed only to ask his son in order to confirm the truth of what a bastard he could be.

He reached for the door handle of the car, and then stopped, rolling his head back and huffing out a breath as his arm dropped to his side. His car keys were still sitting on the desk in the back room of the shop. Sighing again, he pivoted on his heel and started to walk back to the door of the shop, already fishing the key to the deadbolt out of his coat pocket.

A flash of something caught his attention and he paused to look across the street, the breath rushing out of him as a lump rose up in his throat.

The red open sign flickered and flashed before holding steady once more, the victim of a slight dip in power as the large toaster oven in the kitchen was turned up to high.

Lacey shoved her hands further into her pockets and shivered as the wind bit at her bare skin and swept up under the skirt of her uniform. Her heels clomped loudly against the pavement, echoing across the nearly empty street. In less than an hour the diner would be bustling and warm, and she would be longing for the chilly breeze outside to soothe her sticky, sweaty neck.

Her life had been boring and predictable, the same endless drudge of waiting tables, cleaning her apartment, and drinking her tips away the Rabbit Hole. There wasn’t much else to do in Storybrooke, which is why she’d always hated it, but even when she managed to save up some money, it wasn’t enough to move anywhere better. Big cities were expensive, and she had nothing but a string of minimum wage, bottom rung jobs to put on a resume. Things had been better for a little while, once upon a time, when she’d had someone who she thought respected and valued her, saw more in her than a diner waitress and a weekend pool hustler.

But that had been a joke.

She used to work the morning shift at Granny’s, sometimes opening the place and getting the baking and coffee started for breakfast. There was a satisfaction in getting up early and seeing many of the townsfolk well fed before they went off to work. It was a happier time, a simpler time, and time when she’d taken chances and let someone get close. Too close.

She should have known better really, dating out of her league, if one could even call it that. It was more like intermittent fucking and occasional movie watching, like a string of evenings of Netflix and chill in hindsight. Then there had been her father and her history and the same old shit that always seemed to get in the way. Lacey French didn’t get to have nice things.

She didn’t want to see those early morning people anymore, especially the one who had broken her heart. Now she worked the night shift, of sorts, five-thirty to close almost every night. Her life was back to boring and predictable, with the same struggle to put aside a little stash and maybe break away someday, all done under the cover of darkness where it felt easier to hide.

Twisting on her heel, Lacey blew out a breath and watched it fog in the chilly air, floating upwards like smoke from a chimney. She reached up and touched the chain that dangled down between her breasts, sliding it back and forth through the ring that hung at the end of it. It was nearly time for her shift to start, but she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye that made her stop.

Gold swallowed hard and curled his gloved hand into a fist inside his pocket as the other gripped his cane hard.

Her hair fluttered in the bitter wind, tossed out behind her in a mass of dark waves over her red leather jacket. He could see them in his mind’s eye spread out on the pillow, his fingers pulling at them as she said his name over and over. She was so beautiful, then and now, but he’d fucked it all up, just like he knew he would. She deserved better than the likes of him, better than a beast of an old man. Someday he hoped she’d finally move on from this dead end town, and from him, even though he’d never move on from her.

After another moment, he sighed and turned away to unlock the door.

Lacey pushed her hair back out of her face and fought the urge to scurry inside the diner.

She refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her give in to embarrassment first. The wind moved his coat around his legs and she saw him shift his weight from one foot to the other, bracing hard on his cane. It was too easy to recall the way the cool wood and metal had felt against her, how he’d teased her relentlessly, and how the pleasure that overtook them stole her breath away with the intensity of it. They could have had it all if only they’d been better people.

He finally looked away, and she sniffled loudly, the ring bouncing against her skin as she stepped into the diner.

[fyrapartnersearch]

[ as we proceed. ]

Hello! I go by Mars. Currently, I am in the Pacific Time Zone, but I’m fairly versatile with roleplaying alongside with others from different timezones. Twenty-nine years of age, and I have been roleplaying for over 14 years, so I have a good deal of experience in my humblest opinion. I figure that’s enough about myself; now to get to the main reason you’re all reading this, and that is because I have been looking for roleplayers with the coming of this new year, someone to keep my muse levels high and my writing always on point while I maintain having two jobs, as well as a burgeoning social life. Someone easygoing yet creative with a vivid imagination to bring ideas to form is highly desired in a writer.

This request is not for the faint of heart, and those who have considerable limits, hesitations, and triggers are likely not going to be a good match. Just fair warning.

WRITING

I am a multi-paragraph sort of writer, which means that frequently, my writing will exceed at least 600 words, and upward of 1000+ words. I love detail and description, and I am actively seeking someone of the same infamy. Once upon a time, I managed to keep up with a story that teetered around 3000+ per reply with someone, still maintaining the same detailed descriptive writing, and I definitely wouldn’t mind having that challenge once more.

GENRES / PAIRINGS / FACES

I exclusively play male characters in mxf pairings with any smut or romantic attachment, this is non-negotiable. I fully understand and respect roleplayers who are able to play both males and females and nonbinary characters in different pairings. I simply don’t have that versatility, as when I’ve played them in the past, there was an innate in-authenticity that I felt. On the other hand, I am a bit more versatile when it comes to genres and settings that I like to play in. Supernatural is my absolute bread and butter, especially urban and gothic fantasy. Anything to do with vampires, werewolves, demons, witches, shapeshifters, mutants, other urban creature of folklore, given some sort of modern day spun, is absolutely perfect for me. I also really love science fiction in its many forms. Primarily, I take my sci-fi craving inspirations from Star Wars, Mass Effect, and Destiny. I’ve also been slowly intrigued by zombie-less post-apocalyptic storylines, something where the cataclysm is not necessarily caused by rabid zombies (I’m not a big fan of the stereotypical zombies portrayed in The Walking Dead and stuff), but something with either a lethal virus, or a planetary disaster, like an extreme coronal mass ejection.

Another genre that I’ve slowly found interest in includes that of the superhero genre. I’m a big fan of both Marvel and DC fandom, and the concept of having superhumans, humans with abilities, anything of that short would be awesome to do. Against, these would be with original characters on my part. I’m not as fond of general real-life or general modern day genres and themes without a good, complex idea attached to it.

One thing I really love to employ in my roleplays would be face claims, faces, playbys, picture bases, however you call it nowadays. Like I said, I started out roleplaying on forums like proboards, and later, jcink and invisionfree, so face claims are quite prevalent for me. This would only be real-life pictures, and not anime or drawings. We can use the latter for reference points, but I would ideally like face claims to be involved. In terms of looks and stuff, I’ve generally gone for a variety of different guys for who I use to represent my characters. Two of my favorite faces are Tom Hardy and Charlie Hunnam: I can use them for anything. I’ve also had a penchant for guys like Richard Armitage, Marlon Teixeira, Chadwick Boseman, Jason Momoa, and Ed Skrein. For women, my characters playing against, I like to go for an even greater assortment of faces. From actresses like Natalie Dormer, Katie McGrath, Deborah Ann Woll, and Olivia Wilde, models like Adriana Lima and Candice Swanepoel, glamour models like Lucy Collett, Lucy Pinder, and Billie Faiers, alternative models like Sara Fabel and Kelly Eden, and even adult faces like Christy Mack and Nikki Benz – you name them, I’m probably interested in them. So the flexibility is highly wanted.

NOTE: This one is also big, as I have met previous partners who use anime or picture drawings, or have reservations about particular types of faces. I would prefer a partner to be rather versatile and potentially willing to try some of these faces and such.​ Bonus points if someone is comfortable using faces like Ellie Rayne and Cervena Fox and the like.

WORLD BUILDING

I want an active roleplayer in this category, without a doubt. i love to world-build, but I tend to lose interest when I am the only one who puts in the effort to world-build. Too often I find people gun-shy in this regard. If I feel that I’m carrying the weight of the world-building part with specific ideas, I will end the roleplay in a heartbeat. And consider that the world building is just the tip of the beginning, so from that, I’ll be able to see whether we’ll be a match or not. Because we’d be starting from scratch with whatever we do, it would be a big relief to have someone who doesn’t mind letting ideas flow to set up the universe that we will be roleplaying in. That way, I feel as though we would both be extremely immersed into the roleplay. Let’s create lively planets with vast underground criminal empires, ot a galaxy far, far away, or galaxies far, far away.

MATURE CONTENT

I enjoy writing smut, writing violence, plain and simple. I don’t hinder myself – or I try not to – in what I write, the exact extremeness and depth and detail, and I expect my partner to do the same. Maybe not extremeness in a total and complete smutfest (but really, I wouldn’t be opposed), but I do like a variety of things that can be incorporated along with a fascinating story. Some kinks I love include BDSM, incest, the unholy trinity (oral, anal, and such), dubious consent, hair-pulling, those sorts of things. A particularly darker kink that is not explored enough for me is pregnancy/impregnation/breeding. Also, since I love things like psychological trauma and experimentation (in science fiction and supernatural context), those are also highly desired. The manipulation of someone’s mind, body, and soul, combined with elements of corruption and body alteration/transformation – love. These lean more on this smuttier side of the roleplaying, which I like to fashion it as a coin; heads being the smut, tails being the story. I tend to think of them as two halves of a whole and complete experience, and you simply cannot have one without the other. Sometimes I'll ebb more on the smut side of things, sometimes I won't, but a partner who is more than comfortable in that regard is great.

NOTE: I should make this a bit clearer for any potential partners, but I am looking for roleplays on the darker, smuttier side of things, with little to no limits, and a great deal of my own interests would need to be met by any potential partners. If this part is glossed over in any fashion, I'll be able to pick up on that. I'll be particularly picky about this part. If you have any reservations or have major conditions about this, then it's likely that we won't mesh.

I’ve bulleted the major kinks/mature themes that I want to explore.

Psychological torment. Again, I really enjoy this sort of roleplaying, challenging the mind, characters in situations where they ultimately do not recover from it mentally, where their psychological profile is irrevocably changed.

The unholy trinity. Oral, anal, vaginal sex. Like I said, I enjoy my smut, I’m shameless, don’t care much for judging.

Corruption. Easily one of my favorite themes to explore, and it doesn’t have to just be as simple as sexual corruption, turning a poor innocent girl and debasing her to the point of no return. Something as simple as a hardened person, forged from the rigors of life, suddenly finding themselves in a position of finer things. Of wealth, of relaxation. That can sow the seeds into a slow descent into something illegal, lewd, or all of the above. And they can view it as the ultimate freedom from that hardship.

Drugs. The exploration of a person’s psyche that forces them to turn to recreational drugs to cope with whatever situations they have.

Vanity, body alterations. This can be through different genres and for different reasons. Imperfections are everywhere, and I love roleplaying themes where the characters will go through whatever means. Larger breasts and a more voluptuous curves in order to make money or ascend higher in the economic sphere. Modified abs, cosmetic surgery, all of those things would be included.

Taboo pairings. Specifically incest or interracial. I’ve not tried mother/son pairings, but i’d like to see if anyone is up for that. I’m also good with father/daughter and brother/sister pairings, but those would be primarily for science fiction and urban fantasy.

Gore. I don’t mind there being a little or a good deal. With urban fantasy, you can expect this, because I tend to play creatures as vicious, war-mongering, and unapologetic about tapping into their bestial natures.

Bad endings. What if happily ever after isn’t so happily after all? What if the main character doesn’t get the job done, what if there is no fairytale ending, and what results is heartache, pain, misery? Or delight, freedom, and inspiration?

Pregnancy. Impregnation. Breeding. Demons need to procreate to get their army, no? They need to find that special someone who can unearth their demonic spawn and destroy their adversaries. Or, for a more subversive notion, a simple one=night stand ends up being nine months of sheer interest and intrigue for the involved coupling. I lean toward the former, having had some basis in erotic roleplaying in the past, so the more odd themes of this are welcomed. But normal pregnancy with the right plot is also quite fun.

Again, I can’t stress this enough. These themes are going to be darker by nature. While I don’t believe in a purely smut or purely story-centered roleplay, the fact of the matter is that I’m looking for someone who can and has no problem with handling those themes. For me, I’m alright if you have any particular aversion to rape (I’ll never pressure anyone for this) and things like scat and watersports (I’m personally not okay with those latter two), but I’d like it if everything else was fair game. So BDSM, incest, the exploration of similar themes and such.

The only limits I have in this regard would include scat and watersports, those things of that nature. I generally do not mind non-consensual stories that start off that way initially, but over time change (and I know that that isn’t how non-consensual sex works in real life). However, I honestly do not mind it at all if that theme is not included at all since I know that it can be a particular trigger to some..

INSPIRATIONS / FANDOMS

I have many different inspirations when it comes to what I roleplay and how I generally approach a roleplay through my characters, the setting, and such. For urban fantasy roleplays, I’ll take different sets of lore for creatures and create my own, not following any specific script, to say the least. Things from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, True Blood, Vampires The Masquerade, for instance, would cater to my urban fantasy cravings. Bonus points for anyone familiar with video game franchises like Mass Effect, Dragon Age, Street Fighter, Mortal Kombat, Destiny, Borderlands, Overwatch. Now, I don’t necessarily roleplay these fandoms to the tee, and I wouldn’t play any canon characters from it. I would, however, love to play opposite canon characters with my own original assembly of characters, as well as playing in scenes and settings reminiscent of these.

PARTICULAR CRAVINGS

Now that I’ve pretty much laid out what I’m about, I’d like to turn your attention to a few particular cravings that I’ve had as of late.

Supernaturally-themed plots are always going to be my bread and butter. I’ve had a craving for demons and demon hunters, this nigh eternal struggle between those that bring hellfire and corruption to humanity, and those tasked with defending humans from them. Or, a more self-serving alternative, these bounty hunters being skilled enough to take the unenviable task of capturing and/or killing demons for a hefty price. Maybe one, or a few demon hunters, get too big for their britches and take on a truly horrifying upper demon. We can play intense themes of carnal desires, corruption, underhanded tricks, contract obligations. [18+]

On the level of science fiction, you’ve seen me repeatedly mention Mass Effect. I love the crew idea, exploring the vast known and unknown reaches of space. Maybe they are a crew of bounty hunters looking for the next payday, or soldiers trying to stave off an alien threat. [18+]

Another science fiction, but with a more centralized main character. Called “The Traveler”, I would like to explore some sort of time-traveling person (not akin to Doctor Who, but the premise is the same). Someone with the advanced technological resources or metahuman abilities to traverse through time. What’s his purpose? What’s his motivation? Maybe instead of preventing things from happening that indicate bad results, maybe “The Traveler” IS the cause of these bad events. Maybe this Traveler has ambition to travel through significant events in history to manipulate them to his ultimate advantage, to gain more power. [18+]

Gotham will burn – Now, this one, is partly because of my interest in the show Gotham, but also from the Batman: Arkham series video games. I love a dark, gritty sort of cityscape with mobsters and criminals, and these rogue vigilantes trying to clean things up. I’ve also been inspired by the TV show Arrow, so this would be along those ideas. Maybe, for once, these supposed “heroes in the dark” can’t clean up the city and instead succumb to the corruptive pressures of an easier, more hedonistic lifestyle? [18+]

The “ambitious plot” – this is something I’ve coined myself, since it is pretty ambitious to bring to life. And this is one of my primary cravings, something of an all-inclusive episodic series, so to speak, which would feature just about everything I love in varying or limitless amounts. I thought of it as something akin to a Mass Effect inspired, Game of Thrones-esque establishment and episode structure, wherein there are different characters with different plot points, in different settings, but altogether would combine for some sort of universal roleplay. Naturally, this would also combine my other four cravings. [18+]

Each of these cravings would require us to play multiple characters off the bat, as well as adding characters either selectively to the storyline, or nondescriptly, because we think another character with a specific personality might add even more intrigue to it. These cravings are also going to vacillate highly between smut and story, depending on the particular facet we’d like to explore.To me, the ambitious plot is the one I’m really seeking, but it is a pretty time-consuming one, and something not for the faint of heart or for others that don’t have all that much time on their hands. As these cravings will be fairly demanding and require a good deal of OOC communication, I will require you to add in your own input AS you contact me. Which means, if you do decide to email me, specifically about those ideas, you must already have some ideas ready to throw at me.

MEDIUM

Medium-wise, I’ve done various forms of roleplaying before. When I started roleplaying, I was initially a site go-getter, loving the pretty graphics and the jcink and invisionfree (and to a lesser extent, proboards) communities. I’m not sure if I want to roleplay on that, for this particular request, as I don’t have it in me to go through the semantics and the time consummation of having to write up an application or a character sheet, so right now, forum roleplaying is off the table. Right now, my main preferences for roleplaying include email and Googledocs, with Googledocs being the main preference right now.

Hopefully I have not dissuaded too many people, but I will say that for the purposes of what I am looking for, I am going to be rather picky about who contacts me. So please, be as detailed in your email as I have been in my request, that’s all i ask. I don’t wish to have emails with the body of them being “Hey, i’m interested in everything you listed, so let’s roleplay” – that does nothing to inspire my confidence and excitement. Let me know what specifically wrapped you into contacting me.

CONTACT

If you are interested in potentially roleplaying with me, please contact me by email ONLY. I made this tumblr just to be able to send these kinds of request, but I otherwise do not use it and will not respond to messages made on it. I created the email specifically for roleplaying means – wildbloodedmadness@gmail.com. I’m open to communication and creating a general dialogue through Discord and Google Hangouts, but only after the initial email correspondence has been made. For contacting me, I would like your name/online alias, age (because I will only be accepting partners 18 and over), timezone, roleplaying availability, interests, kinks/limits, and – well, hell – include your favorite song lyric in the title of the email.

[ohtheseboysilove]

Matching dorks [Joe Mazzello x F!Reader]

Words : 1, 800 K +

Warnings : fluff, dorks and bit of smut

Summary : Joe and Reader hit it off as soon as they meet.

Note : It’s been a while without some good Joe content ! I really hope my sweet anonyme you like this one ! (ilu too!!!! thanks for the request !!) And OMG I just reach 700 followers i can’t believe it guys u’re truly are the best !!!!

🌼Requests are open 🌼  ☀ Masterlist ☀

"Joe, this is (Y/N), one of my oldest friend and probably your biggest fan" You slapped playfully Ben’s shoulder as your cheeks reddened a bit. "You too weak to hurt me sweetie" The blond winked at you and you groaned, embarrassed.

"Pleasure to me meet to my biggest fan" The red hair replied with a giant smirk, shaking vigorously your hand. "Probably the prettiest too" He added boldly and Ben bursted in laugher as you grinned at the actor, loving to hear these words from his mouth.

"Pleasure is all mine" You answered, flustering your eyelashes a bit. "I used to have a massive crush on you in Jurassic Park" You admitted without any embarrassment. Now that you knew he found you pretty, you could flirt easily.

"That’s fucking true, she still quote the movie all the damn time" Ben snickered as you all walked into the blond’s patio where the party was. "Even got a tattoo about the movie"

You gasped at his words and slapped the back of his neck, making him whined. Joe was now very interested about this famous tattoo.

"Benjamin ! Watch your fucking mouth !" You crossed your arms and stole a full cup of whatever alcohol from the table. "You know what ? I’m not teaming with you for the beer-pong”

"No ! We always play together !" He cried dramatically and you shared a giggle with Joe.

"Wanna be in my team, Tim Murphy ?" You slid a red cup in his hand before cheered with him.

"Absolutely" He chewed his lower lip with a smirk. "Can I see the tattoo ?"

You rolled your eyes to Ben who hid a laugh behind his hand. Your fingers started unbuttoned your white shirt and Joe’s cheeks flushed as your light pink bra appeared under his eyes.

"Hum, you don’t have to if it’s too..." He closed his mouth when you raised a bit your bra, showing the lower part of your breast. "Oh. I love it" Joe babbled at the sight of the roundness of your boob where was, right under, a tiny diplodocus looking absolutely cute.

"You’re drooling man, careful" Ben nudged his friend and giggled when he quickly wiped away his lips.

"Piss off" The red hair replied when he understood he was just mocking him. "(Y/N), should we leave this wanker and go kick everyone asses at beer-pong ?"

He offered you his arm and you took it after buttoned back your shirt.

"See you later, looser" You winked at Ben.

**

"Once again we won !" You cheered as Gwilym had to finish another cup of beer, grimacing at the taste. The drinks were warm and tap after being outside for too long.

"That was ridiculously easy" Joe bumped his hip against yours than gave you a high-five, both of you giggled like kids.

"Yeah yeah, whatever" Lucy mumbled as she lost for the third time against your team. She even switched Rami with Gwilym, claiming she was losing because of her boyfriend. Wasn’t true as she lost again. "Now, winners got their price" She smirked and you matched her, knowing what was following.

"What’s our price ?" Joe grinned happily but his smile soon fell when he saw the big beer barrel being rolling to his feet. "I’m too old for that bullshit" He frowned and your smile get bigger.

"I go first then" You patted his shoulder than bended a bit to murmur few words right into his ear. He smirked after your words and you ignored Ben’s question about what you said. "Do we have a deal ?" He nodded enthusiastically.

You put your two hands on the barrel, grabbing the handle and Gwilym gripped your legs, helping you raised them until your completely upside down. Your loose shirt followed your movements and exposed most of your tummy and the end of your bra, earning more masculine cheering. Lucy brought the stem to your lips and opened the barrel. Everyone at the party were cheered at you, singing your name as you drank beer like a fucking frat boy. Most of the liquid was running down your face as you giggled hysterically, arms becoming sore at your position. After several more sips you spat the tip of the stem and Gwilym put your feet back on the floor.

The beer was rolling on your shirt and you wiped away the sticky drink with your sleeve, tears polling at your eyes from all the laughs. You watched Joe took your place and did the same, drinking way more beer than you under your loud cheers. His hairs were absolutely soaking from the liquid and you giggled childishly at the sight of his happy trail, his top falling on his shoulders with the gravity. The urge to tickle him was very hard to repress but you contained yourself.

"Fucking impressive Mazzello !" Rami cheered when the red hair went back on the ground, beer dripping down his beard like a savage.

"I drank more than you and—" He raised a hand, pinching his lips like he was about to throw up. You watched him with a mocking smile but nothing happened. He smiled victoriously. "You own me a little something"

He puckered his lips exaggeratedly and you obliged, chuckling at this goofy and adorable man. As soon as your mouths touched, he grabbed your hips and bowed you toward the ground like in a movie. You gasped with surprise and Joe deepening the kiss as everyone around laughed and clapped you.

"Well, that was quick" Ben commented when you stopped the kiss, looking at the both you almost impressed.

"Some of us are good with girls Benjamin" Joe sassily replied, making you snorted.

"You’re a wanker" The blond grunted before walking away.

**

The night went on and you and Joe had so much fun. He could be as childish and goofy as you, matching your personality perfectly. Ben said something about the two of you being evil twins. 

The red hair convinced you to do shots with him but in exchanged you could give him any dare you wanted. You took around four shots before abandoning, feeling the alcohol hitting you abruptly but in a good way, you were feeling absolutely giddy.

"(Y/N), please ?" You shook your head with a giant grin. "You’re fucking nut" He took a deep breath and looked at the worm in your hand with a grimace.

"Come on, open and swallow Mazzello" You said cheekily, the worm wiggling between your fingers.

"I really thought I would be the one to tell you that tonight" He mumbled and you giggled hysterically at his stupid, filthy words.

"Well, who know ? Maybe you will get lucky" You murmured with a sultry tone, a finger grazing on his jaw. He hummed appreciatively at your proposition then he closed his eyes, pinched his nose and swallowed the worm. You snorted loudly, almost peeing yourself at the sight, especially at his face after, the pure disgust in his gaze. "I’m very impressed, Mr Mazzello" You cooed.

"Oh yeah ? Want to see something even more impressive ?" You shook your head excitedly, falling in the trap like a fucking beginner. "Show me your phone" You frowned. "Come on, just do it !" He insisted with a goofy smile — you should have seen the cheekiness in his eyes — so you took it off and gave it to him.

"What are—" Before you could understand anything, he threw his and your phone on the grass and did the same with you, but instead you ended up on his shoulder. "The fuck Joe you—" The rest of your sentence was drowned by the water of the swimming pool where the red hair just jumped on it.

"Holy shit" You gasped, spitting off the water and wiping off your smudged makeup. Joe was smiling so widely, stupidly and very proud of himself. "You’re so a dead man Mazzello" You murmured as you tried to drown him, pushing all your weight on his shoulders but it was totally useless.

"I can’t believe you fall for it" He giggled before his eyes fell on your chest, your white shirt was now completely exposing your light pink bra.

You followed his eyes and wiggled your eyebrows cockily. "I guess it’s pretty useless now" You took it off and wrapped your hands around Joe’s neck, chuckling at his parted mouth and popped eyes.

"You’re so fucking pretty" Joe murmured and the atmosphere changed in a matter of second. It wasn’t all fun and goofy anymore. The way he looked at you, the lust in his eyes...your blood was boiling at the thoughts flowing through your mind. Dirty ones. "Stop looking at me like that or I will ravishing right here" He warned you and brought you to the other side of the swimming pool, more private and further from the party.

"Is this a promise ?" You teased as you slid a hand on his crotch, palming him slightly. "Or is this just meaningless words ?" He cursed loudly at the sweet torture and roughly pressed his lips against yours, tasting the tequila and lemon from the previous shots on your tongue.

One of his hand made it way to your shorts, zipping them down and dove in your knickers, a loud gasp falling from your lips. The kiss was hot and messy, few giggles were still echoing around you from the alcohol and the dangerous, yet exciting situation. His fingers went rubbing on your clit, sweet moans escaping your throat and you rocked your hips against hips, begging for more friction.

"Fuck Joe !" You cried when he slid a digit inside you, his lips attacking your neck with hunger. "More !" He happily complied and inserted a second finger, stretching your walls properly. "You’re so fucking hard" You giggled as your pressed your palm on his clothed length, feeling it throbbing under your touch.

"’M hard since you showed me this little tattoo under your pretty breast. Was thinking about your tits all the damn time" He confessed half from the alcohol and half from the boldness of the moment.

"Have a better look pretty boy then" You purred at his ear as you fucked yourself on his fingers, loving the way his pupils were dilated with lust.

He groaned at yours words and look at your hard nipples through the fabric, feeling his pants tightening even more at the sight.

"Hey ! No fucking in my swimming pool !" Joe immediately removed his fingers after Ben’s yelling and looked at you, his lip trapped between his teeth to control his laugh. You weren’t better, frustrated yes but absolutely thrilled by Ben’s outraged face. "I got a guest room you bloody rabbits, out of here now !" He shooed you away, rolling his eyes at your lack of shirt but you saw the little amused smile on his lips anyway.

"Sorry Ben !" You and Joe sang as you walked away, giggling stupidly.

"Should we continue that in this famous guest room ?" Joe questioned with a smug grin, his fingers already snatching your waistband against your skin like the big tease he was.

"You read my mind Mazzello" You pushed him inside and closed the door behind you, a long and hot night ahead of you.

******

[superfreakerz]

TDS 18

"The Dragneel Scrapbook"

Rated M.

Summary: They've loved each other every step of the way, from becoming partners to getting married, and now they get to experience raising kids. Snapshots of the Dragneel family life.

In collaboration with my girl @ccrispy​ :D

Also sorry I'm a day late okay here we go read earlier chapters on FF.net

Chapter 18

Nashi's First Word

Ever since Nashi took her first steps without her parents around, the two made sure they weren't going to miss anything else. They took a hiatus from going on jobs with the rest of their team. There was no way in hell they were going to miss Nashi's first word.

Nashi had been babbling for months, a sign that soon enough, a word would form right before their eyes. Everything was on track. She reached for things that she wanted, she was able to walk- though her steps were still unsteady- everything was going fine.

All that was left was her first word.

And Lucy would be damned if it wasn't some form of 'Mama.'

Nashi had almost said the word 'Dada' once. The first syllable slipped out, and it looked like she was going to follow it with the next. Tears sprung to Natsu's face, and while Lucy was jealous, she was also excited that her baby was going to be saying her first word. Only for Nashi to close her mouth and give them a smug grin, as if knowing that was what they wanted. Since then, it was back to babbling.

Lucy grabbed a bowl of seedless watermelon slices, bringing them to the living room where Natsu and Nashi sat at the couch. Nashi was exploding in a fit of laughter as her father bent over and blew raspberries over her belly. At the sight of the watermelon, however, the child used her surprisingly strong hands to shove Natsu's head away from her and crawled towards Lucy.

"Ma…" she sounded out.

Lucy nearly dropped the bowl as she whipped her head towards her daughter. The child was crawling towards her, her eyes big and brown as she stared at the watermelon and reached towards it.

"What was that?" Lucy asked, struggling to get the words out.

Natsu sat up, staring at Nashi. "Is she about to say her first word?"

"I think so! C'mon, Nashi! You can do it! Just say 'Mama!'"

Nashi tilted her head to the side. "Ma…"

"That's it! Just finish it!"

In the blink of an eye, Natsu snatched the bowl of watermelon, taking Nashi's attention with it. The baby turned towards him, extending her chubby hand out.

"Da," she said, gesturing for him to give her the bowl.

"That's it, Nashi! Say 'Daddy!'" he exclaimed. His lips curled into a face-splitting grin as he waved the watermelon in front of his daughter's face. "Say it, then I'll give you the watermelon!"

"Hey! No fair!" Lucy shouted. "I had it first!" She went to grab the bowl back, only for Natsu to hold it away from her. "Give it back, Natsu!"

"No way! I want 'Dada' to be her first word!"

"No! I already called her first word!"

"You can't call her first word!"

"Yes I can! Now give it!"

Nashi glanced between her parents as they fought over the bowl. Every time the fruit was just within reach, one of them would snatch it away, forcing her to crawl once again.

"Want the watermelon, Nashi?" Lucy asked, shaking the bowl. "Then say 'Mama!' C'mon, you can do it!" She noted that it sounded like she was trying to train a dog, but she shrugged it off. Whatever worked. She'd been dreaming of this moment for so long, and it was finally within reach! She wasn't going to let Natsu take it from her!

"Nashi, look at Daddy!" Natsu called out. He stood up from the couch and engulfed his body in flames to snare his daughter's attention. "Look at me! It's Daddy! Daddy! Say it with me! Da-ddy!"

A bubbly laugh slipped past Nashi's lips as she watched the flames flicker. "Da!"

Tears welled in the dragon slayer's eyes as he nodded his head frantically. "That's it! Finish it now!"

Instead, Nashi burst into a fit of giggles.

Her parents' shoulders slouched.

"Why do I get the feeling she's just messin' with us?" Natsu asked, stopping his magic.

Lucy sighed. "Because she probably is. She gets it from you."

He clutched his chest in mock pain. "Me? I'm hurt, Luce. Hurt."

"Whatever. Between you and Happy, it's no wonder she's so mischievous. Maybe I should start fearing for myself. After all, I'm stuck in the same house as all three of you. I'm doomed."

Natsu chuckled, sitting on the couch and bringing Nashi onto his lap. "I can't wait until she's old enough to talk and walk right. That way, we can all start pullin' pranks on you together!"

Lucy paled. "I will just remind her that I carried her for nine months."

"You really think that'll stop her?"

"…No."

Lucy grabbed a watermelon slice and handed it to Nashi. The child lit up, munching on it with ease.

A warm smile bubbled up to Lucy's lips.

"Hey, Natsu," she began, rubbing Nashi's cheek fondly. "Do you remember when I first told you I was pregnant?"

Natsu grinned at his wife. "'Course I do, weirdo. Like I'll ever forget that day."

"I remember being so scared."

"I was a little scared too."

"Really?" Lucy asked, arching a brow at him.

Natsu shrugged. "Yeah. Maybe not a lot, but I was a little. I was only with Igneel for a short time, so for the most part, I was raised without a dad. I didn't know how I was supposed to be one."

"I was worried for the same reason. My mom passed when I was really little, so I was scared I wouldn't know what I was doing. But now look at us," Lucy said, a smile gracing her face. "She's learning to walk and talk, I'm so proud of her and us."

"Me too," Natsu replied, reaching over to ruffle his wife's hair. "It's good we have Fairy Tail helpin' us. Even though I'll never say it aloud, watching Lug Nuts raise the twins helped a lot."

Lucy smirked at him. "I'm going to tell him you said that."

"You better not, Lucy!"

"I'm going to!"

"If you do that, I'm gonna tell the guild about the story I saw you writin' the other day," he said, his lips curving into a smirk.

Lucy turned red in the face before nodding. "Okay, okay. I won't tell him." There was no way in hell she was going to let Levy find out that she was in the middle of writing a smutty story. Or worse. Cana.

The front door creaked open, drawing everyone's attention to find Happy flying inside. While the parents decided not to go on jobs for a while, he made sure to go so that he could keep up his fish funds.

"Hey, Happy! How was your job with Wendy and Charle?" Natsu asked.

Happy flew onto the couch between them. "Easy. It was just a couple of bad guys. Wendy beat them no problem. How was staying home? Nashi say her first word yet?"

"Not yet," Lucy answered with a drawn-out sigh. "She came close a couple of times, but in the end she just started laughing."

"She really is just messing with you guys."

"Believe me, we know."

Nashi gave a wide smile as she crawled off of Natsu's lap and sat beside Happy on the couch. She wrapped her tiny arms around the exceed in a hug.

"Happy!"

The room went deadly silent, everyone's bodies still.

"L-Lucy…" Natsu breathed out. His mouth was dry as it was gaping open like a fish out of water. "Was that you?"

The girl shook her head, her eyes bugging out of their sockets. "No, it wasn't. Was it you?"

"'Course it wasn't me!"

Everyone glanced down at Nashi, who was still latched onto Happy.

Her tiny, pink lips moved as she said, "Happy! Happy!" Her voice was bubbly and bright. It was a sound that could stop wars, a sound that could put a smile on anyone's face. It was their daughter's voice, clear as day.

Lucy's shaky hand flew up to her mouth.

"She's talking!" she exclaimed, tears pricking her eyes. In that moment, she didn't even care what Nashi's first word was.

Natsu swallowed thickly, his throat tight as he held back tears of his own. He couldn't help but get emotional any time he saw Nashi growing up right before his eyes. That was his own daughter, after all.

"C'mon, Nashi! Keep going!" he said.

Happy pulled away from the hug to watch as Nashi reached towards him again.

"Happy!" she chirped, trying to hug him. "Happy!"

Lucy fanned herself, trying to stop the tears that were streaming down her face. "Oh jeez, the tears won't stop."

"She's the cutest thing in existence," Natsu said, clutching his chest.

"I was her first word!" Happy chimed in. "Me!"

Nashi pressed her chubby cheek against the exceed's as she hugged him once more. "Happy!"

Lucy and Natsu shared a watery smile. They didn't care anymore that they weren't their daughter's first words. In fact, her first word was very fitting, because in that moment, they'd never been happier.

[jgroffdaily]

[This article appears in the September 16, 2019, issue of New York Magazine.]

Within minutes of my meeting Jonathan Groff, he asks if I would like a slice of cherry pie, and then, only a short time later, if I would like to be eaten by a giant plant. The first I readily accept because Groff and the rest of the cast of Little Shop of Horrors have thoroughly analyzed the desserts they picked up for a bus ride down from New York to the suburban Philadelphia puppet studio where they’re rehearsing for the day, and they’ve all concluded it’s the best option. The idea of being eaten by a plant seems a little less palatable, considering the contortions involved in entering the hippopotamus-esque maw of the man-eating Audrey II, which is operated by several puppeteers, and because I’m not sure if Groff is making a serious offer. I learn quickly that he is always offering you things, and those offers are always serious.

The puppet in question represents the largest form of Audrey II, a sassy carnivorous horticultural oddity that convinces Seymour, an awkward flower-shop assistant, to commit murder in the pursuit of fame, fortune, and a suburban life with the original Audrey, a human who works with him. The day I visit, Groff, playing the misfit Seymour (despite good looks that actor Christian Borle, who plays the maniacal dentist, Orin, describes as “scrumptious”), and his castmates are climbing inside Audrey II one by one, figuring out how each of them will die. Wearing a hat from Beyoncé and Jay-Z’s “On the Run II” tour, Groff jumps inside wielding a floppy machete, which is so un-aerodynamic it keeps getting stuck in Audrey II’s lips. Groff suggests a real machete prop would be sturdier, and they try substituting an umbrella, which flies out more cleanly. Michael Mayer, the director, says with satisfaction, “It’s a belch!”

Staging this revival of Little Shop is “illegal fun,” as Groff puts it. The original ran from 1982 to 1987 but never transferred to Broadway, at the insistence of writer-lyricist Howard Ashman, who wanted to preserve the show’s off-kilter spirit in a smaller space. Ashman and composer Alan Menken would go on to fill the Disney Renaissance — which consisted of films like The Little Mermaid and Beauty and the Beast — with the Marie’s Crisis–ready melodies and queer subversions you can already hear in Little Shop (Ashman died of aids-related complications in 1991). Despite a Broadway staging that kicked off in 2003, this version is staying put at the Westside Theatre Off Broadway in hopes of preserving the quirky spirit of the original. There’s a lot of laughter in rehearsal as well as dress codes like a “kimono Wednesday,” which Mayer enforces by handing me a spare kimono when I drop in that day.

I can’t imagine anyone who is consistently involved in or adjacent to homicide having a better time. In addition to playing a murderously nice guy in Little Shop, Groff stars in Netflix’s David Fincher–produced drama Mindhunter, playing an FBI agent who interviews serial killers; the show is based on the real work of John Douglas, who was one of the first criminal profilers. Considering he’s no big fan of true crime, Groff is somewhat confused about how he became a poster boy for gore and mutilation, though he’s enjoying the texts from friends who point out that even when he does musical comedy, there’s a dark edge involved. A few days after we meet in Philadelphia, we’re talking over breakfast at the cozy Grey Dog in Chelsea, where he insists on paying for everything, picking up all the water and utensils, and getting up from the table to refill my coffee cup when it’s empty.

Groff signed up to star in Little Shop this spring after careful consideration, by which I mean he got the offer and then listened to the original cast recording on repeat for a whole weekend. He’d never played Seymour before, unlike the majority of white male theater actors, but he had positive memories of seeing the first performance of the 2003 Broadway version just after high school, when he was rehearsing the role of Rolf in a non-Equity tour of The Sound of Music. “I wanted to make sure that I’m bleeding for it eight times a week,” he says, which is his measure for doing musicals; he wants to make sure he won’t get bored with the material. Even now, when I assume he might want a break from it during rehearsals, Groff still has the album on repeat. “I never went to college, and I’m not educated, really, so I couldn’t say, like, intellectually why that is,” he says. “When I listened to it, it shot through my heart.”

There’s a clue, however, in the way he remembers obsessing over the film version of the show as a seventh-grader, standing in his kitchen with the song “Skid Row” on repeat — specifically when Seymour sings, “Someone show me a way to get outta here.” It was an appealing message to a closeted kid whom Groff describes as just “a sweaty, uncomfortable person with a secret that was so deep-rooted I wasn’t even flirting with the idea of being myself.” With a little distance from that version of himself (the child of a phys-ed teacher and a horse trainer, growing up in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, and occasionally having to clean stables on the weekends), Groff recalls the kinds of tells that seem obvious in retrospect, like, say, listening to “Skid Row” on repeat. Or developing an obsession with I Love Lucy, which he still watches before going to bed. Or dancing along to the Donna Reed’s Dinner Party album when his parents weren’t home. There’s a similar longing in Little Shop, which has the queerest kind of perspective on its central couple, as Audrey and Seymour imagine an unreachable, heteronormative life away from skid row and where she looks “like Donna Reed.”

If there’s a murderous kinship between Little Shop and Mindhunter, it extends to the shows’ shared skepticism about that white-picket-fence-style normalcy. Holden, Groff’s profiler character, is a cardboard cutout of a man with a girlfriend who introduces him to 1970s-style sexual liberation, but he is ultimately more fascinated with the deviancy of the killers he’s interviewing. To play him, Groff shuts down his charisma, amassing such emptiness between his angular jaw and his eyebrows that you wonder if he’ll slip into deviancy himself. It’s a performance of square, even sinister straightness that feels close to the best-little-boy performances of closeted queer men, though what seems to thrill Holden most in the show are his interviews with killers. “Sexuality is so complicated, and the people I’ve ended up working with who have cast me in straight parts are interested in looking at things in a complicated way,” Groff says, noting that he feels the argument about whether gay actors can play straight, or vice versa, has gotten “sillier” as time goes on. “Being out and gay and being myself, it allowed me to find people that weren’t closed-minded.”

Groff came out when he was 23, without directly consulting his agent, after he’d become an idol to the nation’s theater teens of Facebook by starring as the sexy, rebellious, tousle-haired Melchior in Spring Awakening. “I was so compartmentalized,” he says, “singing about sex but then not talking about it.” He remains thankful for the way Mayer, who also directed that show, choreographed the explicit sex between himself and Lea Michele’s Wendla clinically, without asking them about their own experiences. He hadn’t spent too much time worrying about the aftereffects of coming out on his career, which were more limiting in 2009 than they are now. “I did think I might not be seen as a romantic lead, but ultimately I was okay with that,” he says, explaining that he was in love at the time and didn’t want to hide it. “At 23, I’d rather just have a real romantic relationship than pretend to have one with a girl.”

Several years after coming out, Groff booked a leading role in HBO’s Looking, a comedy-drama about gay men in San Francisco, which he calls one of the most fulfilling roles he’s had. The series ran for two seasons and got a wrap-up movie but never quite found a viewership, even among queer audiences, instead receiving, as he puts it, “a total mixed bag of very extreme reactions.” Some of that was because people just didn’t like the show — which was often slower, more interior, and whiter and fitter than people may have wanted — and some of it was because it was “carrying a lot of weight; there wasn’t a lot of specifically gay content on a major cable network.” To Groff, making the show opened him up to the possibility of using material from his own experience in his work. Among the cast and crew, “we would talk about stories about PrEP and uncut dicks and monogamy,” he recalls, among “so many stories about anal douching,” and those anecdotes would make their way into the scripts. He was used to a sort of “closeted training of the mind” to abstract himself from his own experience. Looking taught him he could use it.

Recently, Groff has developed an ability to end up near the center of cultural sensations. He stepped in for Brian d’Arcy James as Hamilton’s fey Britpop version of King George III midway through the show’s Off Broadway run. It was a somewhat ideal gig, given that he was onstage for only about nine minutes a night, performed crowd-pleasing kiss-off songs, met Beyoncé, earned a Tony nomination, and got a lot of reading done backstage. This fall, he’s in Disney’s sequel to Frozen, where he returns to play Princess Anna’s rugged (at a Disney-appropriate level) love interest, Kristoff. In the first movie, while Idina Menzel’s Elsa got the vocal-cord shattering “Let It Go,” Groff sang only a few lines of melody between Kristoff and his reindeer, Sven. This time around, he’s putting his Broadway training to use with a full-length solo. It’s the second one he recorded for the movie, since the writers had one idea for a Kristoff piece (“a jam”) but then canned that song while promising Groff they’d write something different, which he didn’t quite believe. “Then they fucking wrote that other song,” he says, characteristically effusive. “I was like, Wow, and the animation of the song is so brilliant.”

As personable as Groff is and as successful as he has become — and as beloved, especially among theater fans and people like my mother — there’s a point at which he maintains a certain distance, in what feels like a way to stem his own impulses. He doesn’t use any social media, though he did consider it when Looking was struggling, before he realized “I’d have to be good at it and want to do it, and I don’t.” He has never thrown himself a birthday party, because the impulse to make sure everyone’s having a good time would stress him out too much. In behavior that reminds me of both a secret agent and Kim Kardashian, he regularly goes through and deletes all his texts after responding to each of them. “I want to make sure I get back to everyone,” he says, holding his iPhone up in front of me to reveal the remarkably few surviving messages.

Before Groff gets up to leave breakfast and travel to rehearsal by way of the single-speed bicycle he rides around Manhattan, we end up talking about the larger trajectory of his career. Considering that he’s scaling down for a revival run of a musical Off Broadway, was he ever the kind of actor who thought of his work as building up to something? A big film? A franchise? “I think I gave that up when I came out of the closet,” he says. “I gave up the idea that there was an end goal or ideal or some kind of dream to work toward.” An image appears in my mind of the life Audrey sings about in Little Shop, a place that’s comfortable, traditional, and expected, somewhere that’s green. “When I moved to New York, what I wanted was to be on Broadway. That happened and then I came out, and it’s sort of been anybody’s guess since then,” Groff says. “I like when something makes me cry or I can’t stop listening to it. Okay, I want to do that.”

Little Shop of Horrors is in previews and opens October 17 at Westside Theatre Upstairs. Buy tickets here.

[holidaywishes]

It Had To Be You XXV

Chapter Twenty Five: Speechless

  Summary: Tyler takes you to the Stars annual Casino Night

  Author’s Note: I was going to make this a one-shot. Like write a chapter that included the Casino night but that wasn’t all about it and then do an imagine that had nothing to do with this series. But I thought that would be too confusing. So… I did a short, fluffy kind of chapter instead.. The end just kinda… happened… Enjoy!

  Warning: none. Just adorableness. Maybe some steam?

  Song Credit: Speechless -- Dan & Shay

  masterlist

  You had tossed and turned all night, earning many grumblings from Tyler who repeatedly told you how much of an annoying sleeper you were, but you weren’t entirely sure why. Until Sunday morning

  “I can’t go to this thing…” you said, turning the corner

  “What? What do you mean?” Tyler asked, scrunching his face when he saw the worried look on yours

  “I don’t have anything to wear.. I didn’t bring anything fancy… Definitely not like Gala worthy…” you whined and he laughed

  “I thought you might say that”

  “What? Why?”

  “I know you,” he chuckled, “that’s why. And that’s why I got you a dress. It’s in the bedroom, in my closet, go look.” You rummaged through Tyler’s closet trying to find the dress he’d hidden from you -- apparently he thought you’d look in his closet and find it before he had a chance to show it to you.

  “I don’t see i--” you called out before you saw the green fabric peeking out behind a black garment bag. You moved the fabric between your fingers before taking it off the rack to look at it straight on. It was velvet, hunter green, with a semi-plunging neckline and it looked like it was going to be way too long on you because it was floor length which made you nervous; he probably had shoes lined up for you as well.

  “Did you find it?” He asked, coming in to find you standing back and staring at the dress, “do you like it?”

  “It’s beautiful,” you answered, faltering slightly at the end of your sentence, “it might be too long though. And there’s no time to fix it if it is…”

  “The shoes!” he blurted out and you chuckled, “they’re under the dress. There was a box on the floor…”

  “You really thought of everything didn’t you?”

  “I guess so,” he winked before grinning widely, “try everything on. We have to go soon anyway.” You took a deep breath and went to try on the dress, Tyler excused himself to take a shower so he could be surprised at the final reveal. There were things you hadn’t noticed when you looked at the dress on the hanger, well one thing. The long slit on the right side of the dress went all the way up to your thigh, displaying the small tattoo you had there with ease and you tried to disguise it but it was no use. You were right though, without heels on, you would trip over the fabric that dragged beneath your feet. When you looked at yourself in the mirror, you couldn't believe it was actually you. And that you actually felt beautiful. For the first time in a long time, you looked at yourself in the mirror and saw someone beautiful looking back at you, instead of someone who was too big or too sick or not good enough in some way. You realized you only had a few hours until you and Tyler had to leave to get to the venue, so you took off the four-inch black Stiletto heels that Tyler picked out for you that were already killing your feet and carefully tore off the dress so you could jump in the shower when Tyler came into the room.

  “Oooh is this my ‘thank you’ present?” he said, scrunching his hair in a towel while he looked you up and down where you stood in the bra and underwear you had on under the dress

  “Nope”

  “(Y/N).. baby.. come on, please..” he whined and you laughed, gathering up your cleanser and a razor to take into the shower with you

  “I have to get ready too. You had your shower, now I have to have mine,” Tyler was suddenly in front of you and you leaned up to press a kiss to his jawline, whispering in his ear “if you behave, maybe we’ll sneak away from the crowd.” With that he was absolutely still, giving you the chance to kiss his cheek and run off to take your shower; only stopping for a second when you heard him say

  “I’m gonna hold you to that…”

  Let it be known that this dress was not an easy one to wear.

  You changed your lingerie three times to make everything seamless underneath, any slips made it look bulky so they were out, you wanted to wear tights but the dress literally wouldn’t allow it and the slit made it nearly impossible to move quickly so you had to be very intentional with your movements the rest of the night.

  The shoes on the other hand were the Devil’s work.

  The second you started walking in them you wanted to die. They made your legs look fantastic but they also made your entire body wish you didn’t have feet. A lot of conflicting emotions and Tyler had yet to see you. You sprayed some perfume on your wrists, neck and behind your ears like Lucy showed you when you were 8 -- a habit you never quite grew out of -- and looked at yourself in the mirror once more. Tyler called out to you just as you were walking to the stairs to meet him.

  “Babe, if we don’t leave now, we’re going to be late…”

  “I’m coming! I’m trying to get used to this damn shoes. You’re trying to kill me!”

  “I’m sure you’ll be fine besides you’ll look hot in them. That’s why I got them.”

  “How did you even know my sizes?” you said from the top of the stairs, carefully walking down seeing him fixing his tie in the mirror

  “Your sister, now hurry u--” his jaw dropped when he saw you, no words left on his tongue and you smiled as your cheeks tinted pink

  “Ty?” you asked, continuing down the last few steps and he was finally able to compose himself enough to smile but still didn’t speak, “are you okay?” You pushed him aside so you could make sure your hair and makeup were okay, noticing that Tyler’s eyes never left you; although they danced across your body before landing on your face in the mirror. After about 10 minutes, he finally told you how beautiful you looked, making your face go beet red, and his hands came up to your hips; running them up and down the velvet fabric while he kissed your neck.

  “Hmm,” you hummed as you felt his lips glide across your skin, “we have to go…” Just as quickly as it was said, Tyler was opening the door to guide you out to the car. Half an hour later, you walked into the Park Plaza Lexus arm and arm with Tyler, slightly overwhelmed by the grandness of it all. You mingled with people throughout the night, watched Tyler play a hand of Texas Hold ‘Em, took a couple shots with Jamie and tried your hand at Craps with Tyler at your side.

  “Want me to blow on the dice?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows excitedly

  “Go for it, baby!” you laughed, knowing that he was being completely serious when he asked. You brought your hands up to his lips and watched as he let a light breeze drift across the dice in your palms; you bit your lip when you felt a tingle go through your body, which Tyler immediately noticed forcing him to hide a grin. The rest of the night was full of pictures with fans and supporters for the Foundation, with quick chats between the media and the team while you tried to keep your distance from the Ice Girls. You found yourself watching Tyler from across the room a few times, enamored by his charisma, before you noticed Devin slumped over the bar. When you tapped on his shoulder, he jumped slightly

  “Shit, (Y/N), you scared me”

  “Sorry, Dev. You okay?” you asked, “not having a good night?”

  “I might not be here tomorrow…” he whispered under his breath

  “What do you mean?” you leaned in, asking him gently

  “They’re talking about a trade…” You were surprised that, if he was right, it would be talked about tonight. It seems like something that should be left for a regular day, not on the night of an event fundraiser; you stood there contemplating for a minute, biting the inside of your cheek before you spoke

  “Let’s just enjoy the night. Come with me?” you asked, noticing the hesitation on his face but he obliged, grabbing your hand after shooting the rest of his drink.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To get your mind back on gambling…” you laughed, guiding Devin to the Roulette table and gestured for him to play. A couple rounds later, he was back to being the happy guy you had grown so fond of over the past year or so. You saw him wander over to the photo booth with some people with a big smile on his face and you smiled in return, knowing that he would be okay for the rest of the night but when you saw Tyler and Jamie standing with Monty, you paused, unsure of whether to let them be or to interrupt; your decision was made when you saw Tyler’s jaw tense and his head drop.

  “There you are!” you cooed, attaching yourself to Tyler’s hip to give him a kiss on the cheek, “Jamie, Jim.. how are you?” You felt Tyler’s chest fall like he was releasing all of his stress he didn’t even know he was holding

  “We’re good, how are you (Y/N)?” Jim asked, “enjoying the night?” You nodded but got distracted when you felt Tyler’s hand roam slowly to the small of your back.

  “It’s been a really good night I think, but..” you grabbed Tyler’s hand, “we’re just going to run to the photo booth before it gets too late…” Just as you two started walking away, Jamie rushed over to you, surprising you and making Tyler growl

  “I didn’t know you had a tattoo (Y/N)...” he smiled and nodded toward the slit in your dress, bringing a blush to your cheeks while Tyler tugged at your wrist to get you to come with him. When you got to the photo booth, you were very aware how open it was since Tyler was doing his best to brush his hand under your dress

  “Staahhpp” you whined, “babe, people can see us”

  “I’ve been good” he whispered in your ear, still trying to guide his hand under your dress

  “Huh?” was all you could return and he snapped back to look at you

  “You said if I behaved, we’d sneak away, we snuck away…” You remembered what you had said before your shower and a small smile crept on your lips

  “I saw how angry you were getting with Monty. I don’t know what was being said but I came to rescue you…”

  “But I was on my best behaviour…” he went back to kiss your neck while the camera flashed

  “Not here baby…” you managed to pull him away and convince him to take a nice picture before he guided you into a dark hallway where no one could see you. You leaned against the wall underneath him, while his left arm stretched past you, his palm resting on the wall just above your head as he slowly leaned down to kiss you; stopping just before he got to your lips

  “Is here okay?” he grinned and you slid your hands around his neck, watching his lips carefully, and tangled your hands in his hair

  “You’ve been very good tonight Mr. Seguin…” you bit your bottom lip when you felt his right hand grab your waist tightly at your words, still watching his lips. He dropped his palm from the wall to run his thumb over your cheek before finally pressing a soft kiss to your lips that built into an intense flurry of passion; his body crashing yours into the wall while his hands grabbed your waist and your hands tugged at the fabric of his suit jacket, your lips never parting until he inched back to grab some air. As you stood in front of him, chest heaving up and down, hands still clutching his jacket, you noticed his eyes go dark and you swallowed in anticipation of what he was thinking

  “Do you want to show me how bad you can be?” he whispered and you pressed your body against his, not knowing what sounds would come out of your mouth if you tried to speak, which he took as your agreeing to his leaving the event without saying goodbye to anyone.

 What could being bad mean to Tyler? Guess it was time to find out...

[mamabearcat]

Fairytail Cafe - Fourth Course

Natsu made a face, wrinkling his nose and sticking out his tongue in disgust as he scraped leftover food from the plates he’d collected on his trolley into the waste bin. One more shift in this place tomorrow, and they’d be finished this job. Halle-fucking-lujah. He never wanted to see the inside of a café again, unless he was sitting at a table stuffing his own face and someone else was paying the bill. He stacked the scraped plates, glasses, cups and cutlery on the bench near the industrial dishwasher, ready to cleaned by someone else. At least he wasn’t a dish pig, stuck out here in the kitchen. The number of different smells out here was overwhelming.

He pushed his trolley out through the swinging doors, his eyes immediately scanning for Lucy and sighed in relief when he saw her cheerfully serving an elderly couple coffee. He was glad to see her smiling. It hadn’t been a great week for her.

Even though she’d been much calmer at work, walking home in the dark now that they were on evening shift had been hard for her on the first night, nervously glancing behind her, watching the shadows, even though he’d held her hand every step of the way. She’d cried when they reached her apartment, embarrassed about being scared of walking home at night when it had never been a big deal before, and he’d stayed with her. He’d stayed with her every night this week, cuddling her, purring and stroking her hair until she slept, lying next to her in her bed. He had the worst case of blue balls ever, but it was worth it if it meant she felt safe.

He hadn’t told her that he knew someone was following them that first night. What good would it do, when she was already frightened? He had a quiet word to Erza and Gray about it the next day, and ever since they’d left work in a group and all walked towards Lucy’s apartment together. They were followed every night; whoever they were had kept their distance far enough that he’d decided not to chase them down, but it was frustrating, knowing that he had made a promise to Gramps not to take the initiative.

He mulled over what he knew about the creep that had attacked Lucy. Dario Suarez, involved in local government, connected to a rich family in Crocus. He’d only moved to Magnolia a year ago, and already had connections with most of the other wealthy families around. Natsu had got Gajeel to do a little digging for him. There’d been whispers of payoffs and dirty deals, but no proof. Gajeel did find out that he had four mages working for him as body guards though, which was more than a little worrying. He wasn’t worried about himself, but if they decided to attack Lucy while she was alone…

And then there was that bastard yesterday that had demanded his money back after finishing his meal because Lucy wasn’t dressed ‘as advertised’. The manager had stepped in and smoothed it over, but he knew it had upset her, because that fake smile was back again.

He remembered overhearing a conversation that she had with Levy a while ago, talking about how she had been brought up by her father to be the ‘perfect wife’, her good looks a commodity to be sold to the highest bidder, a bargaining chip for her father’s business deals. It was only through her own tenacity that she had become so well educated on subjects her father had deemed ‘unladylike’ and had learnt to use magic and the celestial keys left to her by her mother.

He knew she had struggled with her self-confidence when she’d first joined Fairytail, only half-jokingly using her sex appeal to solve problems rather than her strength as a mage. Thankfully that had mostly stopped. She was a valuable member of their team – good at strategy, an excellent long-distance fighter with the help of her spirits, and handy with her whip when it came to close range attacks. Not as physically strong as him, Gray and Erza, but she had got them all out of more jams than he cared to count with her tenacity and willingness to make connections with people, whereas the rest of them tended to just jump into battle. It must be galling to be judged solely on her looks again. This job couldn’t end soon enough for him.

He looked at the clock. Only half an hour until their shift finished. He did a final round with his trolley, collecting dessert plates, cups and cutlery from the mostly empty tables, the exceeds helping out by collecting empty glasses. Gray and Wendy were tidying up the drinks and dessert bar, Erza was wiping tables, and Lucy was accepting payment from that last couple and saying good night. It was time to close the front doors and head home. The kitchen staff would do the final lock up.

Natsu moved over towards Lucy’s side and took her hand, caressing her wrist with his calloused thumb. “Ready to go Lucy?”

“Sure”, she smiled, squeezing his hand before letting go to take the cash box out of the register. She tapped the calculations lacrima, so it spat out a paper record of the days takings. “I’ll just take this to the office and then we can head out.” She walked out towards the back of the building, smiling cheerfully at the kitchen staff as they greeted her, giving the cash box to the manager on duty, Natsu trailing unobtrusively behind her. Once the money was safely handed over, she took his hand again as they walked back out towards the exit. “Are we waiting for the others?”

“Yup”, he grinned, swinging his arm up over her head so she was twirled in a circle, her black skirt fanning out as she spun. She giggled, drawing in close to hug him, resting her cheek against his heart.

“Natsu?”

“Hmm?”

“Why do you think they’ve been following me? They know where I live, so it’s not that.”

Natsu stiffened, then sighed and kissed the top of her head. He should have known that she would notice the pair of mages tailing them every evening.

“I don’t know Luce. I know I promised Gramps I wouldn’t go after anyone, but if they get any closer, I’m gonna thump ‘em. I got Erza to go tell that council mage working on your case about it, so she knows what’s happenin’.”

“Do you think they’re trying to gather information about me? For the court case?”

“Not sure”, muttered Natsu, placing a soft kiss in her hair again, “but we’re not gonna let them get any closer than they have been.”

“I did think about… moving into Fairy Hills for a little while”, she said softly. “You know, safety in numbers. But then I was worried about putting the other girls in possible danger. And anyway…” She turned her head and spoke directly into his shirt, her words muffled, and Natsu grinned.

“What was that Luce? Couldn’t quite hear you.” He made a show of cupping his hand around his ear. He could hear her words fine with his sensitive hearing, but he wanted to make her say them again.

Lucy stepped back from him a little, a pout on her lips, nose wrinkled. “I know perfectly well you heard what I said”, she hmphed, a blush colouring her cheeks. Natsu stroked her warm cheek with his hand.

“You’re fun to tease, you know that?”, he grinned. And then his expression softened. “Say it again for me Lucy, so I can see you say it.”

Lucy bit her bottom lip, and then took a deep breath and smiled at him. “And anyway, if I moved there, you couldn’t stay with me at night. And I need to be with you. I need to feel my dragon’s arms around me.”

“That’s my little star”, smiled Natsu. He stroked his thumb across her bottom lip with a feather light touch and breathed in deeply as her plush lips pursed to kiss it gently with the slightest flick of her tongue, her eyes fixed on his, an impish expression on her face as he rubbed his slightly moistened digit across her lip again. He leaned forward, intent on replacing his thumb with his own lips, but then drew back with an exaggerated sigh when he heard the clank of Erza’s armour heading towards them. Lucy giggled, placing a small kiss on his palm, then entwining their fingers together for the short walk back to her apartment with the others.

He swung their joined hands playfully as they walked along through the darkness in companionable silence. They hadn’t even really kissed since their mutual confession in the store room a few weeks ago, he had chosen to be led entirely by her. It was slow going at first, a few chaste kisses goodnight, holding hands as they walked to the guild. But during this last week Natsu could feel Lucy beginning to reach out to him once more, initiating hugs like she used to, wrestling him to the ground last night when she caught him trying to eat the last of the choc mint ice-cream in her freezer. She was almost like her old self around him.

They said goodnight to the others as they reached Lucy’s corner, Natsu noting that the two people following them turned back and moved into the shadows a little further down the street. He still didn’t understand what they were doing. Lucy didn’t go anywhere at night, didn’t leave her house. A sudden thought made him growl as they mounted the steps to Lucy’s apartment. Perhaps they were waiting to see if she would be alone, so they could move in. Bastards. Not on his watch.

Lucy jingled her keys, opening up the door. As she pushed the door open, she noticed a white envelope with her name on it sitting on the floor. That was weird, usually any letters would be in her mailbox downstairs next to the front door. She bent over to pick it up, but Natsu beat her to it, reaching for it and sniffing it carefully, a thoughtful look on his face.

“It smells like whatserface, the council woman who’s working on your case”, he said holding it out as snatched it back from him.

She glowered at him while she carefully slid her finger under the flap of the envelope and opened it. Natsu watched her face as she read the letter inside and then folded it back up again. He looked at her questioningly as she worried her bottom lip with her teeth, which he was coming to realise was a nervous habit. He stepped forwards and gently prised her slightly bruised lip away from her teeth with his thumb.

“What’s wrong Lucy?”

“They’ve set the court date”, she said in a flat voice. And then he held her when she burst into tears.

“Natsu, I want to ask you something.” She was sitting on his lap on the sofa, cuddled into his chest, and was much calmer now, the occasional sniff the only evidence of her previous sobs.

He stroked her hair. “Sure, fire away Luce.”

She pulled away from him, sitting up so she could look at his face. “I want you to teach me how to punch. Properly. I had one free hand when he had me pinned; maybe if I’d been better at fighting, I could have stopped him.”

Natsu considered his words carefully, swiping away the single hot tear that rolled down her cheek with his thumb. She didn’t look sad though. She looked angry, determined.

“I’d be happy to teach you anything you wanna know Lucy. You know that. But I’m not sure learning how to punch is exactly what you need.” Lucy arched a questioning eyebrow at him.

“Punching is about strength and body weight. You would have still been at a disadvantage, because he was taller and stronger, had more reach than you.” He watched her expression fall, quickly moving to stroke her cheek again.

“You gotta go with your strengths. Yours is your brain – you think quick, you’re excellent at working out a plan during a fight. You’re small, but you’re fast. Luce, I’m gonna teach you how to fight dirty. That way, if any sick fuck lays his hands on you again, you can obliterate him. Leave him retching in a pile of his own vomit. I don’t want you to ever feel that helpless again.” The brilliant smile she gave him made his heart stutter in his chest.

“Show me”, she breathed.

“Right now?” She nodded, looking more determined than ever.

“I want you to show me how I could have got away from him.”

Natsu scratched the back of his head. “I couldn’t exactly see how he had you, because his back was to me.”

Lucy sat back against his chest, placing his left hand around her upper arm, and his elbow down, so her arm was locked by her side. She moved his legs so that they were wrapped tightly around her shins, locking her legs in place. He could hear her heart rate escalating, her breaths becoming more shallow.

“Baby, we don’t gotta do this right now. We can wait until you’re feeling more calm. It’s not like I’m…”

“I want to know”, Lucy said desperately, between panicked breaths. “I froze Natsu. I froze! If I’d known what to do…” Hesitantly, she grabbed his other hand, and moved it under her skirt. Natsu stiffened, his breath coming out in a gasp. “Please, Natsu.”

Forcing back the tears that were threatening, and the thickness in his own throat, he growled out his question. “Where was your other hand?”

Lucy’s voice was a little panicked. “O-on the tray, but then I dropped it wh-when his fingers…” she shuddered in Natsu’s grasp, and he felt sick to his stomach, wanting nothing more than to drop this hold and hug her properly.

“Reach up with your free hand. See if you can feel my ear, or my eye.” Lucy reached up, and he saw how much her hand was shaking. “You’re gonna push your thumb in my eye. In a real situation you’d do it as hard as you could. Then you’re gonna slam your head back into my chin as hard as you can, and run.”

Lucy’s breathing was coming so fast now he was worried for her, but she moved her hand and gently placed her thumb against his eye, then tipped her head back, tapping him on the chin. Then she slumped in his grasp, and he moved his hands to cradle her, rocking her against his chest. He let his tears fall.

“Lucy, I’m so sorry. So sorry.” He wasn’t sure if he was rocking for her benefit or his own. The guilt was still there, that he hadn’t stepped in sooner that day, when he knew what that bastard had said. If only he’d trusted his gut, gone over and punched him before he’d had a chance to lay his filthy hands on Lucy. He felt her twist in his arms.

“Shhhh, it’s okay”, she murmured, stroking his hair, placing soft kisses on his cheeks, on his chin, on his forehead. She moved so that she was straddling his lap, her hands in his hair tugging gently, soft lips taking away his tears. He opened his eyes to see her soft gaze full of emotion, and he stroked her fringe out of the way, so he could see them better.

“I love you so much Luce”, he murmured, his voice still gravelly from crying. She smiled at him, her lips curving upwards slowly.

“I love you too, Natsu”, she cooed. Before he had a chance to ask, she kissed him, shuffling closer so her breasts were pushed up to his chest, her soft expressive lips moving gently over his, her little pink tongue sliding over his bottom lip. A rumbling purr began in his chest and she giggled.

“Natsu”, she asked softly, “could you stay here with me tonight?”

He grinned at her teasingly. “Have you been comatose or somethin’? I’ve stayed here every night this week.”

She shook her head a little, her blonde locks shifting about her shoulders. She moved on his lap, rocking her hips against his, and he groaned. She rocked her hips again and gave him a teasing grin of her own.

“I want you to stay with me, my dragon”, she cooed, her forefinger stroking gently down his chest towards his stomach. Natsu’s eyes took on a predatory gleam as his hands drifted down her back and grasped two delicious handfuls of Lucy’s bottom cheeks.

“Whatever you say, little star.”

She giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck, and for a moment, they just gazed at each other, until Natsu moved his hands up to her waist, a serious expression on his face.

“Lucy, you know we don’t gotta do… everything tonight right? You’re not gonna hurt my feelings if you ask me to slow down, or stop, or tell me that you don’t like what I’m doin’.” He shrugged. “It’s not like I’m an expert anyway.”

Lucy smiled at him, her fingers stroking through the dark pink locks above his neck. “Okay.”

“There’s, uh, another thing I want to talk to you about. Um, you know that Igneel was a dragon right?”

Lucy giggled at him. “Yeah, that was pretty hard to miss.”

Natsu chuckled. “Yeah. Sorry. I’m not good with words, and this is kinda hard for me. I don’t wanna mess this up.”

Lucy stroked his cheek softly. “Natsu, you know you can talk with me about anything.”

Natsu huffed out a huge breath. “Okay. I’m a dragonslayer, not a dragon, but there are certain dragon characteristics that come with it. The stronger the magic, the stronger the dragonish traits. Things like sense of smell, being able to eat our element, not being damaged by our element, dragon force… you understand me so far Luce?”

“Mmm hmm”, she said, continuing to stroke his cheek. Natsu placed his larger hand over hers. “I don’t know everything about this. Igneel left when I was only young, and we didn’t get to talk much about what might happen when I’m older.”

“What about the other dragonslayers. Can you talk to them?” Natsu snorted.

“Wendy’s too young. Sting and Rogue are idiots. Well, maybe not Rogue, but Sting, definitely.”

“What about Gajeel? He’s a little older than you, isn’t he?”

Natsu glanced down to one side, a little shiftily. “We’ve… talked. He doesn’t know much more than me. Levy’s been helpin’ him though. Tryin’ to find any ancient texts about dragonslayers.”

Lucy giggled. “I knew it! I just knew something was going on between them!”

“Yeah. Not sure if he’s told her yet.” He shrugged a little impatiently, bringing both her hands down to his lap, and squeezing them gently in his. “But I don’t wanna talk about them right now. Gajeel and I figured somethin’ out, and that’s what I’m tryin’ to tell you. Dragons mate for life. Find another dragon that complements them, makes them whole. We think dragonslayers are the same.”

Lucy looked at him with round eyes. He could hear her heart beating faster, and he blurted out the rest of what he wanted to say in a rush.

“Ever since I’ve met you Lucy, I’ve felt this sort of pull towards you, and it’s only gotten stronger the more time we’ve spent together. Needin’ to be near you, wantin’ to protect you. Even when I was away from you, you were on my mind all the time; it was a struggle every day not to run home to you, even though I needed that time away to work stuff out in my head. I think there’s a reason that you can calm me down when no one else can, a reason that I fight harder when you’re there to protect. I think my dragon has chosen you.”

“Chosen?”

Natsu nodded, tilting his head to one side, trying to work out how Lucy was feeling about this. He could sense that she was nervous, but he guessed that was to be expected.

“So what does that mean, exactly?” she asked quietly, her eyes locked on his.

Natsu squeezed her hands again. “It means I love you. It means that I will never love another like I love you. Gajeel said Levy did find some texts that mentioned the word ‘mate’, but I don’t really like that word. I’m not an animal, and neither are you. But you’re special. I’ve guessed for a while now, but the first night my dragon called to you, that thing you call a purr, was when I knew for sure. The one person in all the world that my dragon feels called to, that it wants to be close to forever. My chosen.”

Lucy’s eyes pooled with tears. But before Natsu could reach up she blinked them away, and the smile that she gave him was blinding.

“I may not be a dragonslayer Natsu, but my heart has chosen you too.” She leaned forward to kiss him, at first gently and then more passionately, tugging her hands away from his and threading her fingers through his hair, tugging on the dark pink locks. He responded by picking her up, coaxing her legs to wrap around his waist as walked over towards her bed.

Natsu screwed up his eyes tight. Sunlight was shining directly onto his face, and he groaned, rolling over, and stretching his arm out, patting and reaching, then opening his eyes realising the person his arm was trying to locate was no longer in the bed.

He sat up, scratching the back of his neck, yawning and stretching. When the delicious aroma of bacon reached his nose, he was out of bed in a flash, pausing only to pick up his loose pants, stepping into them on his way to Lucy’s little kitchen.

To his disappointment, she was already dressed, busily frying bacon, eggs and sausages. A pile of buttered toast was already on the table, along with coffee for her and juice for him. She turned and looked over her shoulder, smiling at him, and then dropping her gaze. Surely she wasn’t feeling shy, after everything they did last night? Grinning, he walked over to her and dropped his mouth to the curve of her neck, blowing the loudest raspberry he could manage. Lucy giggled, but reached up behind her with one hand, her fingers stroking through his hair, her other busy turning the bacon with tongs so it didn’t burn.

“Good morning Natsu”, she said, leaning her weight back against him for a moment. He curled his arms around her waist, squeezing gently. “Breakfast is almost ready; did you want to sit down?”

“I’d rather stay here and keep you company”, he grinned, kissing her cheek. “Why’d you get up so early, anyway?”

“Just thinking”, she said. Something in her voice made him stiffen.

“Luce, you don’t… regret… what we…”

Lucy moved the pan off the heat and switched off the element, turning in his grasp to give him a firm kiss on the lips.

“Not at all, so you can get that weird expression off your face right now!” she said. She sighed. “No, I was just thinking about the court case. We should probably go see Gramps and the others at the guild this morning, to let them know what’s going on.”

Relief flooded through Natsu. Even though it had been her choice last night, he had still worried that maybe it was too soon, that she wasn’t ready. He should have known better.

“Yeah, you’re right, I guess.”

He watched as Lucy loaded up the plates with food, and then carried his own across to the table. He enjoyed eating breakfast with her in the morning, watching the way she always sniffed her coffee appreciatively and sighed dramatically before taking that first sip, the way she delicately cut up her food with a knife and fork, chewing slowly, where he piled his between toast and scarfed it down quickly as a sandwich.

There were so many differences between them, the way they had been brought up, the way they approached life, but he had never felt closer to anyone else, even Igneel. He watched her sip the last dregs of her coffee.

“Luce, I’m still hungry.”

Lucy glared at him over the rim of her coffee cup. “Natsu, you’ve officially cleaned me out. There’s nothing else here to eat, until we go shopping later today.”

Placing his hands on the edge of the table, he leaned forward and gave her a predatory grin, running his tongue over his fangs. “Nothin’ else to eat huh? I wouldn’t be so sure about that Luce.” Getting up, he watched the blush stain her cheeks as she pushed back from the table herself, her brown eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Gotta catch me first, dragon boy!” She cackled as he lunged at her and missed, running around the table and leaping over the sofa, scattering the cushions. In only two more steps, he’d caught her and flung her over his shoulder, marching back to the bedroom, laughing at the way her giggles snorted through her nose. The guild could wait.

Much later, they arrived at the guild for a well earned lunch. He watched the way everyone greeted Lucy, his heart warming at her genuine smile. He was so proud of the way that Fairytail had rallied around her. He wasn’t exactly sure how they knew, but nearly everyone had come up to her with quiet words of support, even Wakaba and Macao, whom he’d had doubts about.

They sat down at the bar, eager to see what Mira had going for lunch today. She walked over to them with a grin, polishing a glass. “So, how are my favourite lovebirds today?” she smiled, obviously amused by Lucy’s reddened cheeks and Natsu’s quiet growl. “Before I tell you what’s for lunch, I’ve got a message for you Lucy. Jason from Sorcerer’s Weekly is here to see you. He’s waiting in the Master’s office.”

Lucy looked puzzled, but got up straight away, Natsu trailing behind her.

“Natsu, wait, he asked to see Lucy privately!” called Mira, then giggled at the way Natsu rolled his eyes at her.

“This is weird”, muttered Lucy, as they walked up the steps towards Makarov’s office. “I haven’t seen Jason since I worked at Sorcerer’s Weekly when you were… away.” Natsu took her hand in his and squeezed. She smiled at him, and then knocked on Makarov’s office door. The door opened, and Natsu followed close behind Lucy as she walked in, sliding in before Gramp’s could close the door on him and keep him out.

Jason looked perturbed to see Natsu there, but when Lucy reached out and entwined her and Natsu’s fingers together, he reacted like an overexcited puppy, letting out a few exclamations of ‘Cool!’ as he reached for his notepad. Natsu’s low rumbling growl and lighted fist held under his nose had him settling down quite quickly.

When they were all seated, Jason rubbed the back of his neck, looking anxiously at Lucy, but seemingly not sure how to begin what he wanted to say.

“I’m assuming this isn’t a social visit Jason”, began Gramps.

Jason sighed. “No”, he said. He looked back towards Lucy. “Lucy, have you ever hand any dealings with Dario Suarez?” When he saw Lucy stiffen, and Natsu’s arm curl around her comfortingly, he added, “I’ll take that’s a yes.” He sighed again, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

“I had his lawyer visit me yesterday. Wanted to know about the time you’d worked for us, the photo shoots you’d done. I told him that you’d done a few swimsuit spreads for us but that you had asked if you could work on the editing team instead and that you’d been a model employee, very hard working. But then he…” Jason swallowed, looking at Natsu cautiously.

“He what”, rumbled Natsu. Already he didn’t like where this was going.

Jason closed his eyes. “He asked me if you’d done any private shoots, to get your job. Inferred that you might have offered yourself to me to get the position you wanted.” Natsu’s escalating growl filled the room.

“What did you say Jason?” asked Lucy softly.

“No, of course!” said Jason with heat, his eyes snapping to Lucy. “Lucy, I loved working with you, but we both know there was absolutely nothing like that going on between us. Especially since you were waiting for… well, um.” His eyes glanced towards Natsu, and away again.

“Then he asked if it were possible to obtain a file of the original swimsuit photos we took of you. Said his client was an avid reader of the magazine and would be happy to make a generous donation. I told him that it was impossible, that the magazine never gave copies of files to anyone.”

Jason looked at Lucy anxiously. “Lucy, I’m worried for you. Dario Suarez is a dangerous enemy to have. He’s got bucketloads of money, and a team of high-quality mages working for him. What happened for him to be going after you?”

Lucy raised her chin as she looked Jason in the eye. “I’m bringing charges against him for sexual assault.”

Jason gazed at her for a moment, his mouth open. “Bastard”, he said, giving Lucy a look of sympathy. Then he walked over to her and grinned, opening her hand and dropping a small lacrima into it. “Good thing I recorded the whole conversation then, isn’t it?”

[jojoreadwhat]

T W E L V E • A Gwilym Lee Story | 5. the one with the heat wave

Author’s Note: THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR GIVING THIS LOVE. It’s my baby! I promise you, there’s soooo much about to happen soon! Enjoy!

Sylvia •

If I didn't believe that the day I walked in on Ben and his mistress, in my bedroom was the worst of my life recently. Today could've easily taken its spot, on this new list I'm currently creating. It has only been a week working at Jimmy Bean's and I've already been fired.

Nothing was going right! Orders were wrong, baking is definitely not a strong skill of mine. And being yelled at for horrible tasting coffee was worse than being yelled at over toner.

Joe was trying so hard to help me out earlier on and I owed it to him big time. I just never thought that brewing coffee could be the hardest thing to do but I was proven wrong. Now as I sit on an empty bench, with my shitty cup of coffee, waiting for the subway to arrive.

I've always been a true believer that everything happens for a reason. Or that you've gotta get through the bad to get to the good of life. I've just been insecure about it all lately. Hitting nothing but walls in the last three weeks. Feeling like I'm on my road to my rock bottom. I had it perfect months earlier, even a few years back. All these achievements that I was striving for all along, they came so easily.

College degrees

New job

New apartment

New beau..

I sighed at the recapturing. Processing it all as I closed my eyes for a moment and bringing them back to the platform. Before wiping my forehead of sweat, oh and! Did I not mention it's the hottest day of the year?

Literally hell at its finest.

Even after all of this nonsense I've endured so far. I know I'll still always be a firm believer of the "good things" though. Just being out of my comfort zone of home just made it worse but at the same time. I wasn't going to let this set me back completely. I'm just nervous of what hell was going to happen next I guess.

++

After walking the rest of the way from the subway. I made a quick pit stop to the corner store before heading to the apartment.

"Lucy!" I called out, going into the kitchen and putting the milk away, sucking in the cool air for a second. As it felt hotter in the place than it did outside. I was surprised by no answer since she mentioned she was home today. I went to her room and nothing but a made bed (surprisingly)

When I came back into the common rooms, I noticed a little note next to our last bottle of wine on the table.

Syl,

I had a last minute flight to catch for work.

I'll be back in a few days, if it gets too hot.

The apartment AC is in my storage closet

with a tool set. Good luck!

- Lucy

I took the note to fan myself in search of this closet. It was next to the bathroom, under the last shelf. And there she was, our air conditioner. Dusty and needed to be love. I went to pull it out, but I couldn't pick it up after that. It was too heavy.

"How the hell am I supposed to do this?" I said into the air. I couldn't stand another minute in this heat. I wondered if Joe was home since he left early today?

Finding the tool set and cleaned the window near a plug for this thing to work. I opened the door to cross the hall to apartment eleven. Joe and Gwilym’s place. Knocking twice.

"Let it be Joe." I said to myself, repeating, hoping to god that he could help me and I wouldn't get stuck with Gwil. So far, things weren't so bad with him but at the same time tension was still there and he's wit and sarcasm was not something I wanted to deal with right now.

But of course, today was continuing to test me.

Gwilym answered the door with his short dark brown locks disarrayed and shirtless. Only dressed in black pants, hanging loosely below his waist. Exposing his slender build and lightly toned chest and waist.

"Yes?" He greeted, then. Snapping back from the view as I caught myself staring. Suddenly feeling the cool air coming into the hall from his apartment. Reminding me why I was standing in front of him in the first place.

I cleared my throat, "Hey, is Joe home?" I asked. Watching Gwilym smirked shortly after.

"Why? Do you fancy him too?" He joked, immediately clicking that I was not the only one that seen the exchanges between Joe and Lucy.

"Haha, so funny." I retorted, then. "I needed help putting in the air conditioner." Explaining, but of course it didn't stop Gwilym there.

He was leaning his arm on the door frame, "It's easy, just place it in the window and plug it in." He stated.

I can't stand him.

I chuckled loudly, "That would be great if I could lift it off the floor." I replied again, beginning to turn back to my door. "I'm just going to suffer till Joe gets back."

I heard Gwilym readjusting himself to close the door. "Okay, sounds good."

"Mhm, thanks for wasting my time." I said, then.

"Same to you!" I heard him say. Before shutting the door behind myself. Retreating back to my sauna.

——————————————-

Gwilym •

I watched the dark brunette walk across the hall and close the door behind her. A part of me felt like I had succeeded. In whatever little game this was we were playing since we introduced ourselves. Constant comebacks and wit anytime we were around one another.

Then there was a part of me that I didn't quite fully understand. That I wanted to help her out for some reason. Standing in my place with the air on full blast, imagining that she's dealing with what I just solved an hour ago myself.

I don't know what is was first. That she was Lucy’s best friend. I love Lucy, and she's the first I think that I haven't slept with during my time in the city. We made out once, laughed it off, of course. Ultimately I looked at her like a sister and if it were to have been vice versa of her knocking for help. I probably would have been in her apartment by now.

Or the inevitability that Sylvia was gorgeous. Dark hair, blue eyes, the perfect bone structure a person could have to their face. A light complexion that all of the above was brought beautifully together in her choices of lipsticks. Along with a killer body and legs that were always well complimented with anything above her knees. I'd pretty much do anything for a gorgeous woman, that's why I had a pretty high reputation in the matters of months.

But all I knew I was now fishing for my tool box and heading across the way.

After I knocked, Sylvia opened the door in a complete wardrobe change. Her hair thrown up into a messy bun and away from her shoulders. In a grey camisole, cropped above her belly button and black shorts.

She rolled her blue eyes at the site of me, "Are you here torment me some more?" She questioned, then.

"Where's the air conditioner?" I asked. Welcoming me in with what I think was the first ever smile I've received.

++

Sylvia stated the obvious that the AC was heavy. Bigger than Joe and I’s for sure, it came quite clear that the girls place was actually bigger as well. I wasn't so sure how Lucy and her ex-roommate Allen got this in last summer. But it definitely wasn't easy.

To make it so much easier, sarcastically speaking, none of the screws were working to secure the thing in place.

"I'm running out of ice." Sylvia interrupted my frustration, bringing in water for the meantime to cool down. I thanked her, then. "I know it's going to seem crazy." I started, after. Explaining that none of the screws were long enough and that I had longer ones in my junk drawer.

"Do you think you could hold this in place?" I asked the impossible. She looked at me like she seen three ghosts fly by. This was going to be great. But luckily she was willing to try.

When she replaced my hand with hers, I was thanking a god I didn't believe in before running across to my own kitchen.

I came back in seconds, "Alright, where's the screwdriver?!" Forgetting my footing before I left. I began looking through the tool box,

"I found it!" Sylvia exclaimed shortly before screaming, "NO!!" after doing the worst thing possible.

She let go of the air conditioner.