#that darn curiosity door

[bluelockmaniac]

BITES OF AFFECTION ⋮💋

𝜗𝜚 ft. itoshi rin, itoshi sae, michael kaiser x gn!reader

synopsis. you kiss them by nibbling along a pocky stick .ᐟ

content warning. pet names & lots of making out . 2k wc .

⸝⸝⋮ 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐑𝐈𝐍

“what are you doing?”

rin’s frown deepened, his eyes narrowing in curiosity as you straddled his lap, a carton of pocky sticks clutched in your hand. instinctively, his hands quickly settled on your waist to steady you.

“just tryin’ something,” you giggled, unboxing the carton and tearing open the crinkling wrapper. with a cheeky grin, you pulled out one chocolate-coated stick, twirling it playfully before rin's face.

“ready?” you asked, placing the biscuit between your teeth and leaning in slightly.

rin’s brow knitted together in confusion, his hand rising to brush a stray strand of hair away from your face. “for what?”

you rolled your eyes, bringing your hand to his lips and gently pressing his bottom lip down with the pad of your thumb. you maneuvered your mouth to align the plain end of the biscuit between his lips.

“eat.” you commanded, though your voice was muffled by the flavoured biscuit pressed over your tongue.

blinking, he resigned himself to your whim, despite the almost inevitable regret that always seemed to follow in these situations. (un)fortunately for him, this time would prove to be no different.

his hunched over slightly, shifting his hands to your hips as he began to cautiously nibble along the biscuit, maintaining eye contact with you. you smirked, noting the way your boyfriend's nose crinkled in distaste at the flavour of the classic biscuit, while you savoured the rich, chocolatey explosion on your side.

eventually, the stick was reduced to a mere fragment, and your noses were brushing. without a moment's hesitation, you leaned forward, crashing your lips onto his, eliciting an audible gasp from the startled football player.

caught so off-guard, rin– though you hadn't intended it– choked on the remaining piece of pocky in his mouth, impulsively pushing your body away as he struggled.

you instantly detached your lips, disentangling yourself from his lap, watching in concern as he coughed lightly and then buried his face into his hands in embarrassment.

you snorted once you made sure he was alright, quickly springing to your feet and making your way to the kitchen. you opened the cupboard, retrieving a glass, and filled it with water.

he took the glass, shooting you a glare, his ears and cheeks adorned with a rosy shade of pink.

“don't ever do that again,” he muttered, setting the glass of water down on the table with a dramatic thud. his gaze fell on the darned pocky stick packet. he quickly grabbed it and flung it somewhere behind him, away from his sight.

you cupped a hand over your mouth, trying to stifle your laughter, “i–i’m sorry, pft– i didn't think you'd choke on a biscuit, hah–”

“hey.” he cut you off, gently seizing your wrist and pulling you back onto his lap. he turned his head to the side, his eyes fixated on a random spot on the floor, avoiding your gaze.

“if you want a kiss, then just ask.”

⸝⸝⋮ 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐄

“these fucking cleats always disappear when i need them!” sae grumbled, pacing back and forth in your shared master bedroom, his eyes scanning every corner of the room for his football cleats.

“mm, i think i’ve ‘sheen them on the shoe rack near the ‘frontch door,” you mumbled through a mouthful, sliding yet another pocky stick into your mouth from the pink, thin paperboard box. you kicked your legs rhythmically against the wooden frame of the bed. “you should look there.”

he paused to look at you, “i already looked there, though.”

“check again?”

“. . . alright.” the door creaked as he exited the bedroom, and you shrugged nonchalantly, stuffing your face full with the strawberry flavoured biscuit.

after a while, he re-entered, holding a pair of white cleats in his hands. the corners of his lips were turned downwards in guilt as he tossed his shoes somewhere on the floor and approached you, ruffling his hair in exasperation.

“i swear on my football career i checked there,” he groaned, collapsing onto the bed beside you. he eyed you from the side before turning his body to face you, reaching out to cradle your cheek. “you still eatin’ that?”

you nodded, inching closer to his touch. swallowing your bite, you pulled out one stick, pushing the strawberry-coated end between his parted lips while you took the flavourless end.

his eyebrow arched but obliged nonetheless, biting along the dipped sweet with you. as soon as you finish two quick bites of your part, just enough to reach the strawberry coating, you noticed sae's face scrunch up, his nose wrinkling in disgust. he hadn't even managed to finish the coated portion.

your boyfriend's fingers glided to your waist and gently pushed you away, his tongue sticking out in disgust. “yuck. this tastes like shit. the chocolate one's better.”

your bottom lip jutted out petulantly as you crossed your arms, glaring at him with narrowed eyes. “it isn't that bad . . . but that's besides the point— we haven't even kissed!”

“what?” he raised an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly in confusion. “you didn't ask.”

you sighed, “we were supposed to nibble along the pocky till our lips meet, baby.”

his lips curved into a round shape as he stood up. he caught you by surprise, using his index finger to gently push against your chest until you were lying down on the bed. he climbed over you, pressing one knee between your thighs while the other knee nestled on the mattress beside your right leg.

“wanna kiss?”

without a second wasted, you nodded eagerly, your hands sliding up to find where they usually rested on his broad shoulders. you hooked your ankles around his, watching as he dipped down and sealed his glossy lips against yours.

you were going to be the death of him— he was absolutely sure of it.

with the way his mouth was slotted seamlessly against yours, you were almost certain he intended to leave you breathless by the time be was finished, gasping for every last bit of air. your hands moved from his shoulder to cup his face, pulling him even closer to further deepen the kiss.

you gasped softly into his mouth, then pulled away to swipe your hot tongue over his lips. you lifted your head up, your eyes meeting his. “f-fuck, your lips taste like strawberries…”

the maroon-haired man hummed indifferently, dragging his thumb over his bottom lip to wipe off your lingering saliva. “but i just said the strawberry flavour was disgu—”

“delicious.” you corrected, pinching the plump of his cheek. “dee–li–cious.”

he rolled his eyes and lowered his body onto yours, burying his head into the crook of your neck. he shifted slightly to press a tender kiss to your temple.

“yeah, yeah, whatever. only ‘cause the flavour was on my lips, though.”

⸝⸝⋮ 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑

“hmm, mihya–” you nudged him with your elbow. once he turned his attention to you, you handed him your phone. “— i want to try this super cute pocky stick trend with you.”

he took the phone and glanced down at the screen; a romantic couple biting through a pocky stick till their lips locked. kaiser’s face contorted in disgust at the cheesy, clichéd display of faux affection, but his expression soon morphed into a smirk as he looked back at you.

“it seems boring,” he shrugged playfully, setting your phone on the coffee table and leaning his head back against the couch. “don't wanna.”

your brows furrowed together in disappointment, and you instinctively wrapped your arms around his, leaning your weight against him. “baby, please?” you pleaded, fluttering your soft lashes at him purposefully, trying to coax him into doing the challenge with you.

he rolled his eyes at your desperate expression before gently extricating his arm from your grasp and patting your head. your adorable, puppy-eyed look managed to have this effect on him every single time.

“fine, get the pack.” he feigned an exhausted sigh. you quickly bounced off the couch and returned with the cookies-and-cream flavoured pocky stick pack.

once you finished unwrapping the foil, you pulled out a stick and prepared to place the flavoured end between your teeth. but before you could, you felt kaiser's firm grip encircle your wrist, pulling it back.

“nuh-uh, i’m taking the flavoured end,” he asserted, snatching the treat from your grasp. he then flicked your forehead with a smug, triumphant smirk. “you can have the boring end.”

“what? no!” you scoffed, reaching up to try and reclaim the sweet. but he raised his arm and leaned away, evading your grasp with ease. “that's not fair, you take the plain end!”

“it's fine, schatz– you'll reach the cookies and cream part in no time! besides, this is what i get for agreeing to do this dumb challenge with you. it's only fair.”

you crossed your arms and huffed, “fiiine, whatever.”

he grinned and slid the biscuit between his lips, inching closer to you and you took the initiative to put the plain end in your mouth. his large hands held onto your cheek, thumbs rubbing against your soft skin as you both took one synchronized bite.

one bite through the pocky was all it took for kaiser's eyes to widen slightly. in an instant, he pinched the biscuit near your side, snatching it from your mouth and greedily securing it for himself.

“what the fuck–?” he exclaimed, his voice muffled by the treat, pulling away from you gently. “this shit's pretty good.”

you gaped at him, mouth hanging open in disbelief. your body remained frozen, unable to process the audacity of him devouring the sweet that you generously offered. but that's besides the point— you felt offended that he had pushed you away for a mere biscuit?

“really, michael?” you whined, crossing your arms over your chest. “that's not how the trend goes...”

he shook his head, placing the biscuit pack on the table. then, with an unexpected movement, he pulled you onto his lap, taking you by surprise. his cool, slender fingers slipped beneath your shirt, trailing languidly up your waist.

“i'm sorry, meine liebe,” he whispered, leaning closer until his lips brushed against your ear, his breath tickling the skin. “but we can kiss anytime, can't we?”

the way his words fell of his tongue with such assuring confidence made your breath catch in your throat. you slid your arms around his neck and nodded; he wasn’t wrong– there was no rush to complete the challenge right now... the opportunity to enjoy it later was just as appealing, especially with a whole packet of pocky beside you.

his cobalt blue eyes flickered down to your plump, inviting lips. teasing you with the anticipation of a kiss, his lips hovered over yours– but he soon gave up and finally pressed his soft lips against yours. your hands instinctively grasped the fabric of his shirt, your fingers curling tightly into the material. the contact of your silken lips moving against his in such a sloppy, disheveled manner elicited a soft, breathy mewl that slipped into his mouth.

the blond seized the opportunity presented by your parted lips, pushing his tongue into your kiss-bruised mouth. a gasp escaped you as you quickly threaded your fingers through his hair, gently tugging on the strands of blue.

“m-mihya . . .”

he withdrew from the kiss, his gaze lingering with satisfaction at your kiss-drunk visage– lips glistening with his saliva, droopy eyes, and the corners of your mouth twitching in a hazy smile. a pleased smirk spread across his face as he pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead.

“just like i thought, meine liebe,” he murmured, playfully tapping the tip of your nose,

“you taste way sweeter than that shitty snack.”

© 2024 bluelockmaniac — do not repost, copy, translate, modify, etc my work on any platform !

[redwing4life]

Home Cooked Meal

CHAPTER 4 | ASHES TO EMBERS

can be read as a stand alone :)

PAIRING: Firefighter!Neighbour!Bucky x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: Smut (finally) - dirty talk, pet names, oral f and m receiving, fingering, tit play, praise kink, hand kink?, ball play, hair pulling, unprotected PinV sex, aftercare, reader and bucky have dinner, swearing, fluff, let me know if i missed anything!

SUMMARY: You surprise Bucky with a home cooked meal after his shift, and it’s the best damn thing he’s had in years. The pasta was pretty good too.

WORD COUNT: 10550 (ngl i rechecked this three times cuz i didn’t think i wrote this much but turns out i did in fact write over 10k words im sorry lmao)

PREVIOUS CHAPTER // NEXT CHAPTER

Call me when you get home x

Your text still sits on Bucky’s lock screen, read but not opened, as he gets changed out of his work clothes.

It’s fair to say that the message intrigued him when he first read it half an hour ago, just before he left the firehouse. His legs sped up your building stairwell faster than normal, desperate to find out why you’re awaiting his call.

Knowing you would have said so if you were in immediate danger, Bucky sifts through the multitude of possibilities that await him on the other side of the ring tone; none of which ease the butterflies in his stomach.

He walks to his kitchen, phone in hand, to get a glass of orange juice. Pulling up your contact page, he presses ‘call’ and grabs the carton of juice from the fridge door.

You answer after just one ring, eager to hear his voice.

“Hey, Barnes!” God, Bucky loves your voice.

“Doll.” His voice is soft, tone rising at the end with curiosity. “You asked me to call, what’s up?”

The firefighter swoons at the adorable giggle you let out, the sound distant from the mic as though you’ve tried to hide it. “I was worried you didn’t see my text.” You admit.

Bucky pictures you biting your lip anxiously, an accurate prediction for your current state.

“What are you doing right now?”

Glancing down at the yet-to-be-filled glass in front of him, Bucky leans a hand against the kitchen island. “Just about to get a drink, what are-“

“Don’t!” You cut in. “Don’t get a drink, I need you to come over.”

“What, now? What’s wrong?”

“Nothings wrong, James. Just come knock, okay? I’ll see you in a minute!”

And with that, the call cuts off with a dull beep; Bucky brings the phone down from his ear and stares at it in confusion. You’re being weird, never having hung up on him like that before.

Alpine meows from above the fridge, drawing her owner’s attention away from the phone, only to tilt her head at him.

Even Alps is confused.

Deciding to just do what you told, Bucky slips his phone into the pocket of his dark jeans, returns the orange juice to the fridge and sets off for the front door. He finds himself checking over his appearance in the entry way mirror, eyes scanning over his outfit before he smooths out his hair.

Although he won’t admit it, Bucky’s spent a lot more time in front of that mirror lately; checking his collar isn’t twisted, his hair isn’t too messy and there’s nothing stuck in his teeth. The need to look good, to look good for you, hasn’t gone unnoticed by his colleagues.

He considers using the spare key you gave him and letting himself into your apartment but shakes the thought away.

She asked you to knock, Bucky. Not break in.

With one final nod in the mirror, Bucky leaves his apartment, stepping into the hallway he’s spent so many mornings and nights in with you.

Old jazz music greets his ears when he approaches your door, the soft melody sneaking through the cracks of the door frame. Bucky smiles to himself at the thought of you dancing in your kitchen, heart warming when he notices your humming.

Knocking thrice, the firefighter steps back and nervously stuffs his hands into his pockets. You always make him nervous, those darn butterflies stirring in his stomach whenever he’s about to see you. And when he does see you. Actually, they’re there even when he imagines seeing you.

He takes a breath when he hears you shuffling up to the door, but nothing could prepare him for the sight when it swings open.

Rusty red fabric flows from your neckline to the middle of your thighs, small flowers dotted over the slightly orange colour. Two thin straps perched on your shoulders leave plenty of skin on show as your usual sun-pendant necklace sits between the v-neck of your dress. Which, by the way, perfectly presents the soft swell of your breasts.

It takes everything Bucky has to not drool at his breathtaking neighbour, but it takes even more to not dive on you and finally taste those pink lips.

Your skin is ablaze beneath his eyes and you revel in his reaction, the exact response you wanted when you pulled on the dress two hours ago.

“We’re matching.” You grin, taking a moment to enjoy Bucky’s red henley.

“It’s almost like we planned it.” A chuckle escapes him, eyes trailing up from your thighs to meet yours.

“Speaking of plans,” You reach out to pull Bucky closer, tugging his forearms until he pulls his hands out of his pockets, “I have a surprise for you.”

Is it letting me look at you in that dress all evening? Your neighbour thinks - hopes - as you lead him into your apartment.

Closing the door behind him, you take his hand in yours once more to guide him to your little kitchen/diner area. If you weren’t looking ahead, you’d see Bucky’s cheeks flushed pink at your touch. Seeing your hand encompassed with his own will never fail to drive him crazy.

When he eventually looks up from your joined hands, he’s stunned to a halt. You turn back to him when you feel him plant his feet and your features twist into a nervous expression.

“I- Doll, what is all this?” The firefighters eyes are wide at your ‘surprise’.

Your small dining table is set up for two; cream place mats lay beneath charcoal gray pasta dishes with wine glasses sitting at their corners. There’s even a little vase with pink and yellow tulips in between the two spaces.

“Well, remember that time when you told me you haven’t had a proper home cooked meal in years?” You watch Bucky closely as you speak, waiting for some sign of approval.

“You mean this morning?” He turns to you in wonder, thinking back to your conversation as he gave you a lift to the cafe. “I don’t know what to say, doll.”

You roll back on your heels, hands scrunching your dress at your sides. “Is it okay? I know it’s a little cheesy and it’s last minute but I thought it would be a nice surprise for you after working all day. I mean, it’s not exactly at your home but it’s pretty cl-“

Bucky takes two long strides towards you and brings his hands to cup your cheeks; your words die on your tongue when he looks down at you with tender eyes.

“It’s perfect, Y/n.” He smiles, stroking his thumb over your cheek bone. “You could feed me Alpine’s food and i’d still bow at your feet, sweets.”

Now you’re the one blushing. You heart skips when Bucky’s eyes drop to your lips with hunger in his gaze.

“Always so good to me, aren’t ya?” His words tempt a whimper from deep within you, a submissive whine held back by the last of your restraint.

“Well-“

The oven beeps, its sharp tone darting between your bodies and making you step back from Bucky’s hold.

“Uhh” Your mind is all over the place as the firefighter watches you with amusement, “I- I should, I mean- the pasta must be-“

“Go, doll.” Bucky shakes his head laughing quietly.

Your dress sways as you spin away to the stove, stirring various pots and tidying up the counters. Your neighbour watches you in awe, unashamedly enjoying the view; you just look so goddamn sexy in that cute little dress while you cook for him. He wishes he could come home to this every night.

“You need a hand with anything, doll?” Bucky’s voice sounds from behind you.

“Actually, yeah!” You glance over your shoulder. “Come here.”

If you keep bossing him about, Bucky’s gonna struggle not to tear that sweet little sundress right off you.

Settling in at your side, Bucky cocks his head. “What d’ya need?”

You scoop some of the creamy tomato sauce onto a spoon and bring it to Bucky’s lips. “Try this for me.”

With bated breath, you watch his full lips wrap around the end of the spoon, his eyes bearing into yours as he drags the sauce into his mouth.

Bucky has no business looking as dirty as he does in this moment; you watch his adam’s apple bob as he swallows before his tongue juts out to catch a few missed drops. And just when you thought your panties would survive the sight, a moan ripples from his throat and you clench around nothing at the sound.

“Good?” You murmur, hoping he doesn’t notice when you cross your legs.

He notices.

“Delicious,” Bucky takes the spoon from your hand and stretches across you to place it back in the pan, his right hand brushing against the small of your back, “you did great, sweets.”

Fuck. Me.

You regather your composure and ask Bucky to get the wine from the fridge. He pours you both a glass, setting them back on the dining table gently before returning the bottle to its home.

“Hey, could you bring the bowls over, please?” You call over your shoulder.

You plate up the sauce coated pasta while Bucky places the dirty pans in the sink, both working around each other like a fine tuned machine.

Before you can do it yourself, Bucky is picking up the bowls and laying them on the place mats, winking at you as he does so. He pulls your chair out for you, nodding for you to join him.

“For you, Madame.” He jokes, allowing you to sit down while tucking you in.

You watch him round the table and take his own seat. “And they say chivalry is dead.”

Bucky grins at you. The orange glow of sunset shines through your windows, catching your features with grace. Your eyes shine beneath the light and Bucky can’t help but find you angelic.

“You’re beautiful, doll. I don’t know if I said that earlier but, god, you look stunning tonight.”

Dropping your head, you play with the hem of your dress shyly. Your hair falls into your face, forcing you to push it behind your ears, though Bucky wishes he was close enough to do it himself.

With rose tinted cheeks, you look up at Bucky through your lashes. “You say that to all your neighbours, Barnes?” You raise a brow with your teasing voice.

Bucky throws his head back and laughs heartily, a sound you’ve come to adore.

“Only the ones who cook for me.” He winks.

“Doesn’t Ms Scott bring you pies every couple weeks?”

“And I tell her she looks ravishing every time.”

You giggle and tell Bucky to dig in, though you could happily sit and talk all night. While you both stop every now and then for a forkful of food, conversation bounces between you as it always does.

Tonight isn’t much different to a typical evening with the firefighter next door; usually you share some snacks and beers, cozying up on the couch as you watch tv. It’s become ritual for you to send Bucky a video of you playing the piano each evening, his phone playing the video on loop as he sleeps. It’s strange, but the music creeps into his dreams and keeps them peaceful, keeps him away from that burning building.

It’s been a few weeks since the night he was sent home early. Both you and Bucky felt a shift that night; waking up in his arms left you craving more, though you’ve yet to tell him as much. You left him sleeping peacefully that morning when you left for work with only a couple hours of sleep under your belt.

Bucky hated waking up to find the other side of his bed empty, no longer feeling your heat. The note you left him eased the disappointment slightly, your neat handwriting promising to come back in your breaks. Neither of you have addressed how right it felt to sleep beside each other that night, despite spending all of your free time together with unspoken words hanging over you.

Instead, you dance around each other like two ghosts doomed to never touch. The bond between you is stronger than any you’ve ever had, the magnetic lure undeniable for you both.

Your glasses have been emptied and refilled twice now - dinner long since been finished - and you’re starting to feel the buzz; those butterflies in your stomach have turned into a swarm of confidence, your brain taking a backseat from its usual overthinking.

“You expect me to believe that you broke down the door before Sam could? The same guy who beat you at your physical a few weeks back?” You tease the brunette, a challenging brow raised at his rather unimpressed face.

“What are you trying to say there, doll?”

Bucky’s jaw clenches when you tilt your head slightly, eyes shining with amusement beneath the exposed hanging light bulbs.

“Nothing to worry your cute little head about.” You watch Bucky relax into his chair slightly as you reach for your glass with a smirk. “Just that I doubt Sam has any difficulty kicking a door down, not with the way he’s built.”

The scoff to end all scoffs ripples from your neighbours throat; his bright blue orbs glare into you and his features twist into a scowl. Oh if looks could kill…

Bucky’s tone is flat, “Didn’t know you were such an admirer of Wilson’s build, Y/n.”

The lack of a pet name sends your confidence wavering, but not enough to keep you from having a little fun.

“Well, you know,” You bring the glass to your lips, “he’s hardly difficult to miss.”

Watching the deep ruby liquid pass over your lips, Bucky fights to hide the fury that’s flooding his veins, forced to look away from your smug grin.

He knows, he knows, that you’re lying through your teeth, trying to get a rise out of his usually impenetrable facade, and yet he can’t help but feel jealous.

Bucky’s painfully aware that he has no right to feel so possessive, not when he lays no claim to you. But the twist of his stomach is proof that he doesn’t much care.

“Maybe I should just give you his number and you can cook him a meal next time.” Bucky grumbles.

“Oh, that’s alright, I already have his number.”

You’ve never seen Bucky’s head snap up as quickly as it just did, his gaze pinning you to your spot.

“You what?”

Gently, you place your glass back on the table. “Yeah, Steve gave him my number last week so he could get in touch.”

The fire in those blue eyes burns brighter with each word, his body so still that his chest is barely moving when he breathes. In fact, you’re not even sure if he is breathing. Hell, he’s not even sure if he’s breathing.

“Is that right?” Bucky’s gruff voice is laced with possessiveness, the low tone travelling straight to your panties till you swear you feel yourself throb. You wonder briefly if you have a jealousy kink and the sweet arousal dripping from your cunt only confirms your suspicions.

“Mhm.” You hum in response, “In fact, i’m going out for coffee with him next week.”

“Huh.”

Bucky’s chair screeches against the hardwood floor as he pushes himself back. You follow his movements with amused eyes when he stands up and grabs your plates before storming to the kitchen. You twist in your chair, watching him place the dishes in the sink and flick on the tap.

“James, what are you doing?” You ask.

“What does it look like i’m doing?” Oh he’s grumpy, grumpy.

Bucky’s shoulders are tense beneath his tight henley, his sleeves now rolled up as he starts scrubbing at the plates. It’s quiet while he concentrates on his work, only accompanied by the music still flowing from your speaker.

From the corner of his eye, the firefighter sees you rise from your chair, ears honed in on the sound of your feet pattering towards him.

It’s now hard for Bucky to focus on anything but your breath on his neck, goosebumps littered across his skin like a rash. You stand right behind him, tracing your fingers up from the small of his back; Bucky’s muscles tense momentarily before melting at your touch, just like always.

“Ask me why i’m seeing Sam next week.” You order, hands still roaming the taut fabric on Bucky’s back. The command makes him pause and clench his eyes shut. Why are you making him talk about this when it’s tearing him apart?

The brunette turns in your hold but you don’t release him, instead settling your hands on his waist.

“Why are you seeing him, doll?” Bucky sounds despondent, brows furrowed in confusion as he looks down at you.

“He asked me to teach his nephews to play the piano, Buck. I’m meeting him and the boys on Wednesday, Sarah too.”

A shocked ‘What’ tumbles from his lips as the information sinks in, his frown slowly falling away as he processes your words.

“Yeah…” You grin, though it’s more like a smirk, content with yourself proving he was jealous.

In a desperate attempt to save his ego, Bucky rolls his eyes playfully. “I knew you weren’t really attracted to that dumbass.”

You scoff and pat his chest lightly. “Sure you did, Barnes. Now scoot, you wash ‘em, i’ll dry ‘em.”

With his hands on his hips, he stays still as you nudge your way to his side, stretching to the window sill where your dish towels lay. Bucky’s never been in this position before, it’s always him who’s teasing you; this is new territory for him and it irks him that you riled him up so easily.

Once he shakes his head clear, the firefighter returns to face the sink and starts washing the dishes again. You wait patiently while he works, humming along to whichever song is playing.

“You like the old stuff, huh doll?” Bucky grins warmly at the slight sway of your hips, your radiance beaming like a lantern.

You giggle sheepishly and bite your lip, unknowingly sending Bucky spiralling. “I thought it was fitting for tonight, really leaning into the whole ‘housewife’ role.”

He raises a brow, “Does that make me your doting husband then, sweets?”

Realising what you said, your cheeks heat up instantly and your eyes widen. You attempt to backtrack but your words stumble over one another as though you’re a little school girl.

Bucky, however, is basking in the familiarity of control; your rosy cheeks never fail to bring a smile to his face, and boy is he beaming right now.

“I meant- It’s- You know what I meant, James.” You shoot daggers at him, though the idea of being married to your neighbour sends your heart into overdrive.

That swoon-worthy laugh greets your ears with haste, Bucky’s eyes crinkled at the corners as his chest reverberates with its force. It’s impossible to bite back the grin that’s fighting its way onto your lips.

Small tendrils of chestnut hair tumble from behind his ears, begging to be pushed back, but the buzz from the wine has dulled and you can’t find the confidence to do it, no matter how much Bucky’s eyes are pleading you to.

“You know, it’s sweet of you to teach the boys how to play.” He looks at you in adoration, the image of you spending time with Sam’s nephews triggering a warmth to spread in his chest.

A breathy laugh escapes you as your gaze falls to the kitchen counter. You blush at the compliment and slowly start drying the dishes again.

“Do you spend much time with them?” You ask with a brief glance his way.

Bucky shrugs, “Yeah, Sarah is always throwing barbecues for the squad. They’re good kids, and I bet they’ll love you!”

“Oh God, I hope so. I’ve never taught before and i’m scared they’ll hate me and i’ll destroy their dreams and-” You ramble away without noticing the frown tugging at your neighbours brows.

“Teach me.”

Huh?

“What?” You freeze.

“You said you’ve never taught before,” Bucky steps closer to you, his cologne swarming around you like a warm hug, “so practise on me. Teach me something.”

You almost laugh at his words, mind immediately jumping to the conclusion that he’s joking. But Bucky doesn’t move, his blue eyes study your own, body so still that you fail to conjure a laugh. He’s not joking.

Hesitation is written across your features, drawing a single shake of Bucky’s head. “Come on, sweets. Please? For me?” He pleads.

“Okay.”

It’s scary how quickly you succumb to Bucky’s wishes; you fear you’d do awful things if only he asked and you’d even do it with a smile. You’re so doomed.

With a triumphant grin, Bucky plucks the dish cloth and plate from your grasp and carefully places them on the sink’s edge, before taking your hand in his and guiding you to your piano.

Nerves prickling beneath your skin, you trail behind him and silently revel in his touch. It’s hard to not stare at his perfect body as you stumble around furniture, the sharp muscles of his shoulders rippling as he tugs you with him. Flicking off the speaker on the way, you fall onto the small piano stool beside Bucky, and with such little room, your left thigh is pressed up against his. The solid curve of his muscles prod into your flesh and yet despite the fluttering it causes in your stomach, you’re far more focused on his hands.

From the bulge of his toned biceps to the trail of prominent veins in his forearms, your eyes drag down Bucky’s arms till you pause at the sight of his large hands. They lay spread across the span of his thighs, his right pinky finger mere atoms away from your exposed skin where your dress has ridden up. You find yourself craving the sparks that alight with his touch, so you adjust your position to make sure your leg brushes against his hand.

It certainly hasn’t gone amiss to the firefighter that you’ve taken a liking to his hands. Sure, he’s caught you staring at them before, but the hunger in your gaze right now is greater than ever.

The corner of Bucky’s lip turns up into a smirk as he reaches for your hands once more, lifting them to rest on the ivory keys of your piano.

“Wanna hear you play me something before you give me a lesson.” He admits, his words more of a demand than a question.

When you fail to respond, still caught up in scanning the crevices of his calloused hands, Bucky nudges your shoulder.

You shake your head with a dazed frown, “Huh?”

A playful chuckle falls from his pink lips, “I said play me something, sweets, before you start teachin’ me.”

You giggle sheepishly, sighing an ‘Oh’ before you gather your thoughts. Bucky returns his hands to his lap - a movement you struggle to ignore - giving you free rein of the instrument.

Running through some songs you could teach him, you settle for one of your favourites, or more accurately, one of Bucky’s favourites. The cool surface of the keys is harsh beneath your fingertips, a stark contrast to the Bucky-induced-heat flushing through your veins, hands stretching into place as you prepare the opening chords.

Rhythmic tones swarm around the two of you as you begin playing, masterfully dancing across the keys like it’s a second language. Your graceful motions always bring Bucky to a halt as you entrap him in your art.

He recognises the song straight away, lips turning up at the sweet melody. You didn’t even have to ask to know what he wanted to hear, you just knew. Bucky’s head feels light at the sight before him. A knowing grin has settled on your soft lips, your body ever so lightly swaying to the music, clearly getting lost the sounds.

It’s impossible not to feel the adoring stare of your neighbour, no matter how hard you try to ignore it. Warmth is pooling in the depths of your heart where it feels like you’re bleeding out, your love for Bucky forcing out the blood till the only thing circulating through your veins is him. No longer able to cope with the feelings swarming within you, your fingers abruptly stop mid song before you turn to look up at the firefighter.

“Okay, your go.” You state, but when Bucky raises a bemused brow your way, you continue to instruct him. “Come on. You’re gonna do the left hand, I’ll do the right.”

“Yes Ma’am!” Bucky chimes with a mock salute, earning him a glare.

It takes a few tries to move his fingers into the correct positions, both because he’s apparently wholeheartedly incapable of doing what you say but also because you may or may not zone out every time the veins of his hands stick out as he moves. But it’s still entirely his fault though. Entirely. ‘Maybe like 98% his fault. That’s seems fair.’ You think.

“There you go!” You cheer when the firefighter successfully plays the right notes in tandem.

“Would you look at that, not so useless after all.” Bucky winks at you and you blush lightly.

Glancing at him hopefully, you ask him to play the first chord you taught him.

“Oh, umm-“ He stutters, fingers flailing about and pressing random keys in search of the right pattern.

“Here, let me…” You chuckle sweetly at how utterly lost he looks and move to help him.

Leaning forward, you drag Bucky’s fingers over the ridges of ivorite, slowly placing them on the correct keys. You feel his lust-filled eyes trained on your face while you work, though it’s getting harder and harder to focus under his stare.

A frown tugs at your brows when your mind goes blank as to where Bucky needs to put his left hand, his still-wandering gaze burning into you and spreading to your cunt faster than you care to admit.

Of course, Bucky notices your breath quickening, chest stumbling up and down with shaky pants. His proximity is intoxicating and the will to fight it is slowly slipping past you, fingers itching to trace up Bucky’s thick arms to his neck so you can finally pull his lips to yours.

Bucky reads every inch of your skin like he’s studying for an exam. From the clench of your jaw to your eyes fluttering shut, he knows that he’s winning this tussle for control.

“Bucky…” You breathe, the wavering sigh rolling from your tongue like a stray secret.

“Yes, doll?” Bucky smirks with glinting eyes and you bite back a whimper.

Opening your eyes, you keep them trained on where yours rest on his. “I can’t focus with you looking at me like that.”

Bucky knows exactly what you mean but he can’t help but toy with you. “Like what?” He cocks his head with faux innocence that fools no one.

You turn to look up at the firefighter, eyes meeting his half lidded ones, the blue of his eyes barely visible behind his lust-blown pupils but the blue you can see is so impossible dark that you wonder if they were ever light in the first place.

Taking a breath, you wet your lips so briefly that Bucky nearly misses it. Nearly. “Like you want to kiss me.” You say, barely above a whisper.

“Oh,” Bucky sighs, leaning in closer, “I want to do much more than that.”

Your body is alight with need. Craving his touch, a breach of the barrier between you, you practically whine your reply. “Then why are you just staring?”

“Well, I wanna remember you like this; sweet, angelic, so perfect in your little sundress.“

With the back of his hand, Bucky nudges the hem of your dress higher till his whole hand is spread against your thigh. You quash the aching desire to glance at where your bodies meet and lock your eyes on Bucky’s, whose lips are turned into a knowing smirk.

“Gotta savour it while I can.” He says as he pushes his palm further to your inner thigh, his pinky finger mere inches from your heat.

“Why?” You ask, heart racing.

It dawns on you that you may actually pass out when the firefighter leans in close to you, nose pushing your hair aside to expose the soft skin of your neck which now sits defenceless to his advances. The heat of his breath is electrifying, lips nearing your pulse point eagerly.

Bucky’s lips ghost over your skin as he explains, “Cause once I’ve had my way with you, you’re gonna be a hot fucking mess, sweets.”

A breathy moan tumbles from the depths of you chest at the crude insinuations of his words; your eyes flutter shut, an unintentional reaction that you’re grateful for as it hides the way your pupils roll to the back of your head.

Through the dark span of your eyelids, you picture exactly how Bucky will make you a hot fucking mess. Spread legs with his tongue delving through your folds, back arched as he pounds into your pussy with vigour, his hands guiding your hips back to meet his as he fucks you from behind. The images bear too much for you yet you can’t stop picturing the salacious scenes, not when your neighbour is pressing open-mouthed kisses to the side of your neck.

“James…” You sigh, voice carrying the weight of a thousand pleas.

“Yeah? Is that what you want?”

Nodding your head desperately, you whine, unable to form any words beneath his sinful tongue.

“Words, doll.” Bucky says, lips hovering over your ear. He’s struggling to hold back but can’t let himself touch you the way he wants to until he hears you spell it out for him.

Turning your head slowly, you peer at Bucky with half-lidded eyes and a slack-jaw. “I want you, James. Please.”

That’s all it takes to disintegrate the final remnants of the firefighter’s self-control before his full lips meet your own with a hunger that’s been brewing for months.

Bucky’s lips glide across yours, slotting between your own so easily it’s got you believing this is not your first kiss. It’s soft and sweet but so goddamn sensual that you can’t help but moan into his mouth, the now open gap giving him the perfect chance to slide his tongue inside.

You bring your hands up Bucky’s body and rest them on his neck, fingers tentatively feeding through the hair at the nape of his neck while you jostle for control of the kiss.

Forced to pull back for breath, you take a peek only to find those strikingly blue eyes already on yours.

“Fuck, doll,” Bucky whispers, “you don’t know how long I’ve been waitin’ for this.”

“Probably not as long as I have.” You scoff.

“Then let me make up for lost time.”

“Wait, what do y-“

Within moments, Bucky is lifting your legs over the bench and is knelt between them, his large hands teasing the hem of your dress as he keeps your thighs spread apart.

Your mouth is agape with surprise while you grab onto the piano behind you for stability, a mixture of nerves and anticipation coursing through your veins. And as if he can read your anxious thoughts, Bucky looks up at you with the most sincere expression across his soft features.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks, despite the deep desire shining in his eyes. He wants you more than anything, but he needs to know you want him too.

It’s an easy answer and you’re shaking your head faster than you care to admit, but the memory of Bucky’s prior words flash through your mind and you still just as quick.

“No.”

Watching intently as he runs a hand from your ankle up to your knee, the firefighter rolls his bottom lip between his teeth when your breath hitches.

“Then promise me you’ll tell me if that changes?” Bucky asks.

You reach down and run your fingers through his chestnut locks, tucking the few loose strands behind his ear.

“I promise.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me, sweets.”

A hearty laugh reverberates through you, but you’re quickly silenced by Bucky’s lips on your inner thigh, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. He kisses his way up to your heat, slowly pushing your dress higher and higher till the only thing between you and his mouth is the crimson lace panties covering your mound.

A sound you can only describe as a growl ripples through the room and you glance down at your neighbour to find him practically drooling at the sight of you. But then his eyes are on yours, his hungry, half-lidded eyes, and he’s tracing a finger over your clothed slit. Your breathing becomes laboured at his touch, your body, your mind, all of you at his mercy.

“Bucky, please…”

“Ah ah ah-“ The firefighter tuts, “-since when do you call me Bucky?”

You frown, back arching slightly in search of some friction on your core, too aroused to process his words properly.

“Look at me, Y/n.”

The stern nature of his tone lures your eyes to his once more. “What?” You ask, confused.

“I haven’t spent months goin’ crazy listening to you use my name only to have you call me Bucky when I’m finally between your legs.”

The throb of your pussy spurs you on and you tilt your head teasingly. “Touch me, James.” You say, and he obeys.

Bucky glides his hands up to your hips and drags your panties lower and lower, his lips chasing the lace till there’s no where left to kiss but your slick folds.

He hovers over your heat with bated breath before forcing himself to close his eyes and ask if you’re still okay with this.

“More than okay, James.” You answer truthfully.

“Good, cause I’m fucking starvin’.”

You feel his mouth on your pussy before you’ve even processed his words, tongue delving between your folds like he really is starving and you didn’t just feed him the best dinner he’s had in years. Though something tells him that title is about to be beaten the second you cum all over his face.

Your mouth curves into an ‘o’, the most pornographic of moans escaping you at the sinful sounds of Bucky’s mouth on your cunt. Drowning in increasingly intense waves of pleasure, your senses are dialled up to the max; with every flick of his tongue and suck on your clit, you find yourself falling deeper in your arousal. It becomes impossible to listen to anything Bucky’s telling you.

“Y’taste so sweet, doll.”

“Doing so good for me, aren’t ya? My good girl.”

“Let me hear you, doll, need to hear how good you feel.”

Whether it’s praises or orders, there’s no chance in hell of you understanding a word that falls from his lips, though Bucky doesn’t mind. The clench of your soft thighs around his head tells him all he needs to know - that even if your heads not fulling comprehending him, your body is. And the sheer amount of slick glistening across your cunt is enough for him to know that you’re ready for more.

The sensation of Bucky’s finger tracing along your pussy lips sends your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your hips lifting off the stool.

“James- oh fuck-“

Words die on your tongue when Bucky eases a finger inside you. White hot pleasure builds at your core, burning the last remnants of your self control, its embers coaxing a near-scream out of you.

“Fuck, that’s it, sweets. That’s- shit you’re so tight, pussy’s squeezing me and it’s just one finger.”

You mewl and squirm beneath him.

“How you gonna handle two of ‘em, doll?”

Bucky’s mesmerised at the sight of his finger gliding in and out of you, drenched in your sweet juices, too beautiful of a sight for him to give up by eating you out. But when you groan at the suggestion of two fingers, he drags his gaze upwards and is greeted with a view that’s evening better.

You, draped against the piano, head tilted back and brows drawn together while uneven sighs tumble from your swollen lips. God, you look heavenly, Bucky thinks. He doesn’t realise he’s said it out loud, but it makes little difference seeing as you’re rather preoccupied with the thought of Bucky fucking another finger inside you.

“James?” You call, reaching down to cover your left hand around the one at your sex, the other tugging on his hair.

“Yeah? Are you alright? Do you want me to stop?” He panics, thinking you’ve grabbed his hand to stop him.

Instead, you look him in the eye and say “Are you gunna fuck another finger inside of me or what?”

An awe-inspired grin spreads across Bucky’s face at your question. He keeps his blue orbs on yours while he presses a kiss to your clit and pushes himself higher till he’s inches from your face.

He rests a hand against the piano, caging you in and says, “Anything for my girl.” before a second digit joins his first.

The stretch knocks the wind out of your chest but Bucky hardly gives you any time to adjust, his fingers pumping in and out of you even faster than before. His palm slaps against your bundle of nerves with every thrust, the force riding to your chest where your tits bounce in rhythm.

“So damn beautiful…” The firefighter says.

You look up at him through your lashes and pull his lips to yours, tasting yourself on his tongue. With clashing teeth, the wet slapping sounds only feeds into the moment and Bucky’s suddenly very aware of the tightness in his jeans.

With each passing second, the cord in your stomach is getting so close to snapping that your mouth isn’t even moving against Bucky’s anymore.

“Fuck, James, I’m- I-“

“Shh, I know.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “You gonna cum all over my fingers, doll? Gonna let me see you fall apart?”

You nod feverishly.

“Good girl, now let go for me.”

That’s all it takes for the damn to break loose and the fiercest orgasm of your life to rack through your body. It reaches every part of you, all the cracks and crevices you never thought could be touched, yet here you are, feeling every inch of yourself set on fire.

“That’s it, doll, that’s it.” Bucky comforts you while you lay victim to the aftershocks of his work, slowing the thrust of his fingers till your breathing evens and he moves to gently circling your sensitive clit.

“Holy shit…” You sigh, a satisfied and totally fucked-out grin playing across your lips.

Noticing how your hazy your eyes still are, Bucky smiles to himself while pressing loving kisses on your forehead.

“You did real good for me, sweetheart.” He listens to you hum beneath him as he moves to kiss your temple. “Y’look so pretty when you cum, you know that? Even prettier than I imagined.”

You twist in your seat to face your neighbour. “You’ve imagined this too?”

“Every night, doll.”

“Huh…”

Though Bucky’s eyes remain fixed on yours, it’s obvious that his mind has slipped away; he’s now clouded by memories of his x-rated dreams, ones that have ended with him pumping his embarrassingly hard length into his fist one too many times, and his cock twitches in his ever-tightening pants. You notice the movement at his crotch and, emboldened by his confession and the best orgasm you’ve ever had, you decide to take back some control.

“What have you pictured doing to me, James?” Your tone is so sweet, so innocent, that it takes a moment for your words to register in his brain. But when it does, boy, does a fresh wave of blood rush to his cock.

“You sure you wanna know? Cuz it ain’t all sweet and innocent.” He warns.

You say nothing and let your actions do all the talking; you slide a hand down to meet his left, the one still nestled between your sticky thighs, and tug it away from your cunt. With your eyes locked on his, you raise Bucky’s cum coated fingers to your mouth, slowly wrapping your lips around them and sucking your sweetness away. Making sure to give the firefighter a show, you swirl your tongue around his fingers before taking them as deep as you can, a knowing look in your eyes when you notice Bucky clenching his jaw.

After releasing his fingers from your swollen red lips, you press a kiss to the palm of his hand. “Tell me.”

What you can only describe as a growl rises from the back of Bucky’s throat and before you know it, you’re being carried to your bedroom, legs bound tightly around his waist while your arms wrap loosely around his neck.

He sits down on the edge of the bed; hands resting on your hips and edging lower to your ass, his fingers grip the supple flesh to keep you in place.

His force on your hips is pushing you down on his ample bulge, sparking a flash of pleasure straight up your spine that escapes you with a moan. Bucky chuckles softly with a sinful grin as you tilt your head back at the feeling.

“You wanna know what I’ve imagined us doing, doll?” The firefighter grabs your chin to bring your attention back to him. He runs the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip, tugging on it and letting it bounce back into place.

“I’ve pictured us just like this.” He drops his hand to your neck, tracing the curve of your collar bone till it meets the strap of your sundress. “You, naked and beautiful as ever, riding my cock like I know you can.”

You gasp lightly when he tugs your strap till it’s tumbling off your shoulder.

“And you’re telling me just how full you are, how stretched your little pussy is around me, choking my cock like a damn vice.”

Bucky’s filthy words send your hips into motion without warning; you grind your bare cunt over his crotch, the tent in his pants settling between your slick folds till his shaft is enveloped with your warmth.

“Does that sound good, doll? To have my cock buried inside you when you bounce on it? Fuck, I bet your cunt is dripping for me again,”

“It never stopped, James.” You whimper, your sensitive clit sending jolts up your frame as Bucky guides your hips over his.

“That’s right, you’re never gonna use anything else to cum ever again. You got me now, doll. I’m all you need. Me, my cock, I’m gonna ruin everyone else for you.”

You don’t even notice that Bucky’s hands are on the zip at your back, slowly pulling it down till the fabric are your chest goes slack, and with the straps already draped over your shoulders, the flowing material cascades around you, tumbling to your hips and leaving you defenseless to Bucky’s insatiable blue eyes.

“Fuck me, sweets, you’re- god- you’re perfect.” He leans in and kisses your collarbone. “So,” kiss, “So,” kiss, “perfect.”

Your eyes flutter shut, lost in the feeling of his touch, and Bucky smirks when he sees you. He teases a hand up your soft skin till it sits just beneath your tit, daring to reach up and play with you in the ways he’s always dreamt of.

“Is this okay?” He asks, earning an even more passionate grind of your hips as you push your chest closer to his open mouth.

He chuckles, “Needy, aren’t ya, sweets?”

You whine.

“Hmm, lucky for you, this is exactly what I imagined doing to you, what I’ve dreamt of for months…”

His lips wrap around your hardened nipple with haste, the warmth of his mouth a welcome sensation. He sucks at the sensitive nub, this tongue reaching out to soothe you afterwards. You throw your head back and moan loudly.

The sound of bucky loudly licking and sucking on your tits is driving you crazy, to the point where your hips are stuttering over his, practically drowning in the feeling till you have no control over your movements.

“God, I love your tits. Wanna act out every dream I’ve ever had of you. Fucking your tits, your throat, your cunt, anywhere you’ll let me, doll, please. I’ve needed you for so long.”

You blush at the word love, surpressing the hope that is stirring at the possibility that your tits aren’t the only thing he loves. Has he really wanted this as long as me? You wonder, picturing everything he just revealed he’s been wanting.

“M’So fuckin’ hard for you sweetheart, I know you can feel me. Dick’s throbbing, doll, it’s s’hard it hurts.”

You pull at his hair so he’s looking up at you again and capture his lips in yours.

“I wanna see you, Bucky…”

He groans and reaches for the hem of his shirt which he waists no time in tearing off. Your chest rises and falls heavier than before, eyes raking his physique just like you had that night he was leaving the shower at his place.

You trail a finger down his abs till it brushes the button of his jeans teasingly.

“All of you, James.” You look pointedly at his crotch. “May I?” You ask and when he nods, you climb off his lap and sink between his legs on the floor, you dress tumbling to the ground immediately.

Bucky’s abs tense as you work to undo the button, your hands tiny in comparison to his body. Next, you work the zipper up and over the bulge of his cock, the teeth desperate to come apart after being so constricted for so long. The two sides of denim snap away from the tent of his boxers, perfectly presenting where the firefighter so badly needs your touch.

He helps you kick off his jeans till the only thing between you is his boxers. You trace a finger up and down his shaft through the cotton, enjoying the sticky patch of pre cum leaking through the top.

“Have you ever imagined me sucking your cock, James?” You ask with half lidded eyes before kissing his covered shaft. “Cause I have.”

Bucky whimpers - whimpers - at your words, his hips snapping up to your face uncontrollably.

You begin to drag down his boxers, trailing kisses down down down, your lips greeting his tip when his cock flicks up against them before your eyes even get chance to glance at him.

Your eyes flutter shut at the salty taste on your lips, revelling in the breathy moans from your neighbour.

“Fuck- pl-please honey, I need your- argh- mouth around me!”

You make eye contact with him from your place on the floor and ask if he’s sure.

“More than anything.”

And with that, you take his thick length into your mouth, lips sealing around his angry pink cock head briefly when your trace your tongue over his slit, before gliding lower down his cock.

You take as much of him as you can, but you need time to warm up having never taken a cock as large as his before.

“You’re so big, baby.” You say as you pull off his shaft with a pop, “Biggest I’ve ever had in my mouth.”

A frustrated groan arises from the firefighter and you feel his hand on the back of your head, gently pushing you to his dick once more.

“Suck my cock, doll, just like we’ve both imagined, nice and deep, please.”

You take the base of his cock in your hands and guide his tip back to your lips.

“Atta girl,” Bucky encourages as you take him deeper and deeper.

He feels you relaxing your throat to take more of him and his balls clench at the feeling.

“Argh fuck, fuck, fuck. Good girl, oh my god, yes!”

His praises and curses cheer you on and you manage as much of him as you can, only an inch or so remaining that’s simply too thick to fit in your mouth. Lord knows how he’ll fit in your pussy, but you’re sure he’ll figure it out.

You bob your head on his length over and over till you’re in desperate need of air. You let your hands work your spit and his precum up and down his hard cock while you catch your breath and watch his beautiful face contort into one of extreme pleasure.

Your chest fills with pride at Bucky’s facial expressions; making him feel good is somehow more rewarding than anything you’ve done in your life and you find yourself content at the thought of spending the rest of your days pleasing him.

Bucky is oblivious to the gratified smile toying your lips and wholly unprepared for your next movement.

“Oh god- oh fuck, doll-” He groans, his breathing staggered and eyes clenched shut when you take his balls in your mouth, the skin sloppily wet from your work on his cock, and now enjoying the warmth of your mouth.

“Oh honey, do that again, felt so go- argh!” He’s interrupted by you tending to his sack once more, your tongue swirling around them and lightly sucking.

You moan around his pretty, swollen balls, the vibrations drawing a sigh of pleasure from your neighbour. The trimmed hair at the base of Bucky’s member is tickling your nose while you fight to taste every part of him.

With a final sharp suck, you release his balls with a small plop, plant a wet kiss on each and flatten you tongue to lick a bold stripe up his length. The tip of your muscle presses into the vein on the underside of his dick and Bucky thrusts upward, his hips bucking as he desperately searches for more.

As you ready yourself to glide his cock down your throat once more, you feel Bucky’s hand on your cheek, pulling you off him.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something?” You ask with a concerned frown, nervous that you’ve done something wrong to have Bucky stopping you. You wrap your hand around his forearm, the one outstretched to hold your hair, while the other remains enclosed around his cock.

“Nothin’ bad, sweets, it’s just that- fuck-“

You absentmindedly stroke your thumb over his girth, a motion you intend to be comforting but in reality, it just makes him throb even harder in your hands.

“-I’m not gonna last much longer if you keep using your pretty mouth like that.”

“And that’s a problem because…?”

He laughs lightly and tucks your hair behind your ear. “Cause as hot as you’d look swallowing my load, I’d much rather cum inside that sweet pussy for our first time.”

You roll your bottom lip between your teeth before pecking a doting kiss to his forearm and letting Bucky pull you to your feet. His eyes follow yours till he’s looking up at you from his seated position, his hands falling to your hips with an awestruck face.

“What the hell did I do to deserve you?” His voice is barely above a whisper. You blush crimson.

“Get on the bed, doll.” He orders. “Lay on your back.”

You do as he says and once you’ve settled, he crawls on top of you. It’s quiet for a moment as Bucky stares lovingly down at you, burning the image into his memory to remind him he has everything he needs.

“I should have found the guts to do this months ago…” You murmur, pushing the fallen tendrils of chestnut hair behind his ear. He looks so goddamn perfect; the golden glow filtering through your window catching every feature you’ve spent so long dreaming about, and now he’s here, really here, and you can’t help but stroke his cheek with revere.

“We have now, doll. That’s enough for me.” Bucky whispers. “Are you comfortable?”

You nod, truthfully, both in terms of your position but also for what’s coming. But then his elbows bend out and he’s lowering himself onto you.

“How about now?”

There’s a gleam in his eye and a playful smirk on his lips as he watches your chest heave, your body taking more of his weight now.

“No!” You giggle.

“No? Is this better?” Bucky teases, briefly laying his whole weight over you until you paw at his shoulders to push him off.

“James! You’re squishing me!”

The melody of your carefree laughter has Bucky melting and he pushes himself up onto his hands once more. His lip is tucked between his teeth, enjoying the view as he becomes increasingly aware of his cock now just one slip away from your pussy lips.

Quickly coming to your own awareness of Bucky’s rock hard length pressing into you, you sober up.

“Darling?” You tug on his bottom lip with the pad of your thumb.

Bucky’s brows pinch closer slightly.

“I need you inside me.”

His soft lips are crashing against yours within moments, his hand fighting between the nonexistent space between your bare bodies to grasp his cock and guide his tip to your bundle of nerves.

The sudden taste of how good Bucky can make you feel forces a sharp breath from you. It’s so much yet not enough, all at the same time.

“Tell me if you need me to stop, okay? Let me take care of you how you deserve.”

After a meek nod with your hands finding refuge in Bucky’s soft locks, he trails his cock head down your pink folds till it catches on the dip of your entrance.

Bucky tempts a whimper from you as he slides inside of you, your walls stretching to accommodate his larger than average member.

“Fuck, doll, you’re so tight for me.” The firefighter moans, resisting the urge to snap his hips and bottom out completely.

You’ve yet to make a sound, the sting in your pussy not yet dissipating, and when you glance down at where your bodies meet, you realise you’re barely taking half of him.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Bucky’s reassuring voice is ghosting over your ear, “you’re taking me so well, sweets. You need me to go slower?”

You clench your eyes shut briefly, “No, keep going, you’re just so…”

“So what?”

Bucky watches a deep red creep up your neck before returning his gaze to your eyes, that now dance across the room avoiding him.

A gentle grasp on your chin draws you to face the breathtaking man above you and you clench around his dick.

“What happened to the little minx who was practically beggin’ me to fuck her, huh? Don’t get all shy on me now, dollface. I’m so what?”

His words have you spilling yours without second thought. “You’re so fucking thick, James, cock’s splittin’ me in half.”

He groans and snaps his hips fully into yours, making you scream out, “Jamie!!!”

His scalp burns when you pull on his hair harder than before, your moans filling the room like a broken record. Bucky should be focused on the furrow of your brow, your laboured breaths, the way your cunt is choking him, anything about how perfect this feels, but all he can focus on is how with one thrust, you called him ‘Jamie’. And you didn’t just say it, you screamed it.

“Shit, honey, say it again.”

“Ja-Jamie…” You whine and feel Bucky draw his hips back before pounding into you once more.

“Again.” Your neighbour growls.

“Oh my god, fuck- I”

“Again.”

It takes everything you have to open your eyes and look at him. “Fuck me, Jamie.”

“That’s my girl.”

Bucky drives his length into you till his tip is hitting your cervix, the pleasure wrapping around your throat and squeezing the air out of you. You fight to breathe as Bucky drills into you, over and over, softly grunting with every thrust.

“Never felt anything as good as your cunt before, doll. Wanna spend the rest of my life buried inside you.”

You pull his lips to yours and, back arching from the mattress, dive your tongue into his mouth with vigour. He lets you explore his mouth while fucking you deep and fast, the headboard of your bed slamming against the wall and probably driving your neighbour crazy. Oh wait, he is your neighbour, and it is driving him crazy, but in the best way imaginable.

“So goddamn tight, sweets, y’pussy was made for me,” He swallows your whimpers happily, “don’t you think? You feel how good i’m filling you up, honey? Sliding in an’ out so easy, you’re so fucking wet for my dick.”

“Harder, Jamie.”

Goddamn.

“Keep calling me that and I’ll do whatever you want.”

You lose yourself in his thrusts; the sting has long turned into the most pleasure you’ve ever felt, and that’s saying something after the orgasm he lulled from you only a few minutes ago.

“Fuckin’ me s-so good, Jamie.”

“Ah- just like that, baby.”

“I’m getting close, James, need you to go faster.”

Your pleas send Bucky’s cock pulsing and he does exactly as you wish. He fucks you faster, fighting off the desperate urge to cum inside your sweet cunt.

“Jamie…” You sigh.

He grins up at you from his place at your tits, his tongue reaching out to tease your nipples. You push his head down till he takes your sensitive bud in his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue over it while he gropes its twin.

The tight coil in your stomach is twisting to its limit and you find yourself dangerously close to cumming around Bucky’s hard, thick length.

“I’m so- oh fuck- i’m so close, James.”

He lifts his head and eyes you with lust blown pupils.

“Are you gonna cum for me, doll? God, I can feel you clenching around me, you wanna cream all over my cock? Huh?” He smirks at your pornographic moans. “Bet I’ll look so good covered in your cum, sweets, maybe I’ll let you clean me up, put that mouth to good use.”

“I’m gonna cum, i’m gonna cum,” You chant several times breathlessly.

“Let go for me, sweet girl, make a mess o’my cock. Cum, doll.”

Your body shudders as your hips grind up into Bucky’s, your walls tightening before he feels you gush around him. Practically screaming in pleasure, you bite down on Bucky’s shoulder to quiet yourself, though the pain travels straight to his member, still fucking into you with force.

“Fuck, James, you’re so perfect, never came so hard in my life- shit-“

He’s groaning into your ear, his balls slamming against you and filling the room with salacious wet slaps.

“You’re so wet and- fuck- I can’t- I can’t hold back much longer.”

You tug on the hair at the nape of his neck and lick up the side of his throat, tongue catching the salty beads of sweat in its path. Reaching his earlobe, you suck on it lightly and whisper into his ear.

“Want you to cum inside me, Jamie. Fill me up, please, I need your cum.”

“Argh, fuck!!” Your words send Bucky over the edge and his hips stutter while he finally lets go.

“Oh god, yes!” Bucky grunts. “Take my cum, doll, fuckin’ take it.”

Your tongue seeks his neck once more, pressing open mouthed kisses as his cock shoots streams of white seed into you, the spurts seemingly never ending.

“Fillin’ my cunt so much, Jamie- fuck- you feel so good!”

As his cock softens, his thrusts slow to a more bearable pace, both of you so sensitive from your orgasms. Catching your breath takes a minute or two, but in the meantime, you coax satisfied sighs from your firefighter by running your hands up and down his back; the light sheen of sweat greets your fingertips as you touch him tenderly.

With no words being shared, you focus solely on Bucky’s breathing, the rise and fall of his back beneath your hands and the weight of his body on yours. It should be uncomfortable, but you’ve never felt so at home in a place, let alone with a person, in your life.

“That was…” Bucky murmurs into your neck.

You finish his sentence, “Pretty damn good.” Laughter ripples through the muscles of his back.

“Yeah,” He agrees and pulls back slightly to look at you, “you feeling okay?”

“If by okay you mean ‘completely and utterly fucked out’ then yeah, I’m great.”

You grin cheekily before pushing his hair behind his ear yet again, an act you find yourself praying that you’ll get to do for the rest of your life.

“How are you feeling?” You ask sincerely.

Those blue orbs flick between your own, laced with an emotion you hope to be love. “Like I want to be with you like this forever.” Bucky admits. “That and completely and utterly fucked out.”

You laugh heartily, bringing a beaming smile to Bucky’s swollen red lips.

“Let me clean you up, doll.” He offers before pushing himself off you, much to your dismay. He disappears to your bathroom for a minute before returning with a damp cloth in hand.

“Can you spread your legs for me, sweets?”

He bites a chuckle at how quickly you obey him and gets to work, wiping away your shared cum from your pussy and goosebump-ridden thighs. The towel is warm and soft on your skin, lulling you to sleep, though you fight to keep your eyes on your neighbour.

“You’re so beautiful, James.” You say, reaching to place your hand on his that sits beside you hip, where he’s leaning his weight.

He smiles sheepishly and focuses on the job at hand. Once you’re clean, Bucky carries you to the bathroom so you can do your business, waiting patiently outside after putting his boxers back on and grabbing his henley for you to wear.

When you step out of the bathroom, Bucky’s holding his he let out in front of you. “You looked a bit cold so I thought you might want a shirt?”

You smile, “Your shirt?”

“Yeah…” He rubs the back of his neck, muscles flexing at the movement, “You don’t have to, I just thou-“

He stops talking when you pull the henley from his grasp and tug it over your head. It swallows you whole and the sleeves tumble past your hands, but Bucky thinks it’s perfect. You’re perfect.

Grabbing his hand, you pull him back to your room and back into bed, tugging the sheets over you both where you nestle into his chest.

“You’re staying, right?” You ask with the most puppy-dog eyes you can muster.

“Of course, doll.”

Smiling to yourself, you curl up against the firefighter. “Woulda cooked you a meal months ago if I knew that’s all it took for you to finally fuck me.”

a/n: filth. pure filth. so sorry that it took me a lifetime to post this - life got lifey and it took me ages to get this right. it’s my second time writing any sort of smut so i hope it was good for y’all. thanks for all the support, it means the world to me. love you guys, red ❤️

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[kiraixi]

This is my contribution to the Harringrove Relay Race! 🎄❤️@harringrove-relay-race

Santa Baby ~

Billy wasn’t happy with his predicament but honestly any extra cash would do… even if it meant babysitting your crushes ex’s younger sister.

Holly was a sweet kid. Shy at first, but after becoming a frequent swimmer at his Turtle Tots classes in summer Billy’s come to know what a bubbly yet devious inside she had. Adorable baby blues not even he could say no to along with a pixie laugh when she got her way.

Here he was, standing outside the mall, about to spend his Christmas day with a five year old.

To be fair it was way better than whatever burnt roast Susan would salvage, forced to choke down undercooked potatoes with his father’s threatening glare across. Forced to match Max’s tight smile and fake gratitude as she opens her third present while he gets none. Always. Only to left alone with his asshole dad and mouse of a wife while she runs off to her nerd friends' houses, blissfully ignorant of what waits for him behind closed doors.

Mrs Wheeler stopped him a week ago. Hand on his arm caressing, asking if he could be ‘ever so kind’ and watch her youngest on such a special day. Billy doesn’t care what she deigns so important she can’t look after her own child, but from the amount of cash stuffed into his hand he’s not complaining at all.

Twenty dollars to babysit her and another twenty five to buy her a gift. He can keep the change.

Holly takes him left and right. Kinda embarrassing how this little kid knows her way round more than him. Up the stairs they go to Claire’s, receiving a few warm chuckles from the lady running the till when Holly asks him which stuffed plushie is superior.

Billy personally thinks the reindeer one is cuter. It’s called Antler Claus.

They pick up some hot chocolate and share a gingerbread cookie. Holly called the thing Hermon and then decapitated its head, handing him the torso and legs. She’s darn cute.

Tugging on the arm carrying her teddy, she points down the hall. He turns to her,

“Mm?”

“I wanna see Santa!”

“Santa?” Billy looks where she’s pointing. A Christmas set up. A tree and a couple presents laid out, theres’ a small queue of people waiting to talk to a guy in red lounged on a chair.

“Oh… Santa.”

“Yep!” She tugs him forward with the mighty force of a toddler and they line up behind, Billy squinting at that floppy brown hair under the hat. Even though the boy’s face is hidden under that ridiculous beard, Billy could recognise him anywhere.

Steve Harrington in all his glory, sweating under layers of heavy velvet, trying with all his might to sell a jolly man accent.

He can’t suppress a smirk as they walk up for their turn. Steve tries hard to not make eye contact with Billy, instead listening intently to Holly.

“Hi there little miss! Have you been a good girl for Santa this Christmas?”

She giggles, swaying back and forth on Steve’s knee, “Yes! I spent today with Billy, it was so fun! We got a rei- rain—“ She frowns at Billy.

“Reindeer.”

“Reindeer!” Shining her brilliant three teeth smile at the older boy. They both laugh at her adorable antics.

She pulls Steve’s ear in, whispering in that way only children do, loud yet secretive all the same. “Don’t tell my mummy but this is way more fun than being home.”

Steve sends him a soft smile and Billy tries with all his might to tape down that warm shakiness building in his chest. Steve tells her to grab a gift off the shelf and while she’s away for a few minutes Billy’s curiosity gets the better of him.

“What made you do this instead of..” He waves his hand around lamely, “Festivities at home.”

Steve looks down at his lap a little forlorn, “I don’t think anyone would even realise I’m gone..”

“Ah..”, that sad pout makes Billy regret asking.

The other sighs, “Well why are you not at home? I wouldn’t have pegged you getting along with Holly.”

“Well, she’s a good kid and any extra money is useful,” Billy shrugs, not wanting to get into the details of a shitty house to go back to.

Steve nods in understanding, then snorts “Well haven’t you been a good boy this year,” pats his lap like the jerk he is. “Why don’t you sit on my lap”.

Billy blushes and looks heavenward, cursing god for making his fall for this absolute dork. Holly comes to save the day. Another plushie, a penguin this time, tucked under her arm and pulls him toward the churro stand.

He looks back at Steve, questioning how much he owes for the toy. Steve shakes his head and smiles, “Don’t worry about it, maybe instead you could stop by at four? It’s when I clock off, we could hang if you're free?”

Billy looks away, face warming but not from the temperature. He tickles Holly’s side and taps her nose, “Once I put this bug in her bed I’ll come back” They awkwardly wave goodbye, Holly giggles at him and he smiles back.

This Christmas isn’t turning out to be so bad after all.

Happy holidays everyone! Please look forward to the lovely work from the next person 🎉@thatgirlwithasquid

[dreamingcloudie]

❛❛If Loving You Means Hurting Me, I'd Gladly Suffer More❜❜

✎ ❛❛ It hurts to see you die over and over. But no matter, I'll still love you the same, even when you forget about me each time ❜❜

Pairing(s): Creator!Dottore x Creation!GN!Reader

Genre/Format: Angst + fluff (One shot)

Warning(s): reader dying, probably some grammar mistakes, blood, maybe an OOC Dottore? (Then again, I tried to make him soft here, so...)

wc: ~1.1k

Note: Was scrolling through some tags and I saw someone posted a concept/idea of creator Dottore and creation reader. And that got me thinking...

I usually don't write angst because they hurt me 💀 BUT, I'll make this one an exception. I love this idea a little too much. I hope you guys will like this one :) Any feedback is greatly appreciated ♡

“Open your eyes, Dove,”

You felt a hand caressing your cheek as you stirred awake. Beside the bed, there stood the man who had taken the lives of many.

“There you are, sleepy head,” spoken in a gentle voice, Dottore pressed a quick kiss on your forehead. You slowly sat up with the help of Dottore and you lifted your head up to look at him. His usually hardened gaze soften upon meeting yours. Ah, how familiar, just like the other times, here he was again…

It was funny, the time when you were created, he intended to make more of his clones. After days, or even weeks of making sure that he had the correct formula. He was expecting to see a clone of himself step out of the machine, but instead of his clone, it was you that appeared.

He stared at you in bewilderment, muttering a curse under his breath.

“Darn it, were my calculations of the formula wrong?”

At first, he wanted nothing to do with you. But just like a duckling to its mother, you followed him everywhere. The other harbingers would often tease him about it, saying things such as:

“Hah! look at mama duck go!”

“Hatched an egg, Doctor?”

He was not amused, however. Constantly calling you “an annoying pest” with a scowl on his face. Later on, he had to accept his defeat because no matter what he said, he could still find you behind him. Observing him with a glint of curiosity. He gave up on trying to shoo you away, and just let you stick around.

“Let’s head out now, there’s something that caught my interest,” Dottore said as he opened the door for you.

Like usual, you tagged along with him to go to a spot where he found interesting things to tinker with. Dottore stopped on his track as he couldn’t hear your footsteps anymore. He turned around only to find you being distracted by a bed of flowers on the side of the road.

“What now?” He sighed and walked over to see what caught your attention. As he got closer, he noticed a look of adoration on you. Following your line of sight, a crystalfly was situated on one of the flowers. Feeling his presence, you turned to him and tilted your head, as if you were asking what this magnificent creature was.

“That’s a crystalfly,” he explained.

Upon hearing his answer, a smile graced your face.

“Crystalfly…” you repeated after him.

He was taken back, that was the first time he has ever heard you talk. He was so used to his test subjects screaming in fear and colleagues yelling at each other. Hearing such a tender tone for once was oddly a nice change…

Shaking his thoughts away, he pulled your arm and got you back on your feet.

“You’ve stalled long enough. Come on now, I got work to do.”

Finally arriving at the research site, mechanical parts were scattered around the place. Striding over to one of them, he started to examine it. Out of nowhere, he heard a yelp which brought him out of his trance. Turning to the source of the noise, he found you laying on the ground and an activated ruin guard hidden underneath a shade of trees not far from here. The ruin guard launched its missiles again, aiming straight at Dottore. He dodged left and right, charging at the machine before blowing an attack toward its core.

After making sure it was deactivated, he rushed over to you.

The sight before him was making his stomach twitch and turn, an alarmingly large pool of blood was surrounding you. He placed his fingers to where your neck was and checked for your pulse.

But he felt nothing.

‘Why the hell am I shaking,’ he asked himself.

You were just an annoying pest. He could’ve just left you there so he wouldn’t have to deal with you anymore. You meant nothing to him and he did not care about you. So why? If he didn’t care, then how come every time you showed that toothy grin of yours, he suddenly felt all fuzzy and warm inside? If he didn’t care, then how come every time his fingers slightly touched yours, he could feel the heat slowly creeping up his face? If he didn’t care, then why was he carrying your body back to his lab in a hurry, trying to bring you back?

He stood there and watched as you laid on the bed. Waiting for you to wake up. He could see a little bit of movement before you opened your eyes.

“Finally awake, I see?”

And that was the first time, the first time where he witnessed your death. It did hurt him a little, but he didn’t think much about it as he was able to bring you back to life.

The second time was when you drowned in a lake. His heart ached a bit more this time. But he was successful in bringing you back to life, again. And that’s all that matters.

The third time was when a new Fatui recruit who has never seen you before mistook you for an intruder and killed you. The wound of his heart reopened itself once more. But nonetheless, bringing you back was still manageable.

And there’s a fourth.

A fifth.

A sixth…

Just how long did he have to endure this constant torment? It hurts having to watch you die over and over, not even knowing if he was able to bring you back. And even if it was a success, every time when you were greeted by the world once more, you’d forget about him. Dottore never thought he would get attached to someone. Let alone you, an accidental creation. He was someone that has witnessed countless deaths, and none of those affect him at all. Ironically, he was also someone who has killed a lot without an ounce of regret.

What was so special about you?

What made him so drawn to you?

Dottore sat there on the edge of your bed, berating himself for not doing a good job at protecting you. You may not remember who he was, but your body definitely did. It somehow always acted on its own whenever you saw a frown on him. Somewhere at the back of your mind, you remembered seeing a crystalfly before. And watching it flutter made you happy. You tugged at Dottore’s sleeve and pointed at the jar filled with crystalflies that he got for you on the bedside desk.

“Crystalflies!” You beamed with a grin, hoping their hypnotic movements could make him feel better. Just like how they made you happy.

Ah… there it was, that cute little grin of yours. The way your eyes would always lit up whenever you saw him. The way that you would always cared for him even when your memories of him were long gone...

If loving you means hurting him, then he would gladly accept all the pain the world would throw at him. All he had to do was simply bring you back to him, a small price to pay just to see you smile.

[fanfic-compass]

~Traditions~

Cahir x Fem!Reader

Summary: Cahir and the reader and invited to take part in the annual hunting tradition

Word count: 1.5K

Cahir was coming home after a long day of training and fighting. I had already prepared dinner and waited patiently for him to open the front door and greet me with his usual three kisses. And after only a short moment of waiting, he did just that. He walked in and came closer to me. Then he pressed a kiss on my forehead, my nose and finally he planted a longer kiss on my lips.

“How was work today, darling?” I asked, genuinely concerned because I knew about his rough schedule and how stressed and exhausted he always is when he returns home.

Cahir only sighed and shook his head, he was too tired to tell me anything. But then I realized how I could put the smile on his face that I loved to see so much.

“We got a letter today. An invitation, to be exact.”

“An invitation?” I could see the curiosity on my husband’s lovely face.

“Yes, indeed. It was written by your father and it said that we… well that you are invited on some kind of hunt down in Vicovaro. Do you happen to know anything about that?”

A bright smile appeared on his face like some kind of switch was turned instantly.

“Of course I do. I can’t believe it, finally we’re in again.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about… How about we have dinner now and you tell me everything I should know?”

Said and done. Cahir told me everything about this hunting tradition he got invited to. He told me that every year the families with the highest reputations in Vicovaro get invited to some kind of hunting competition and that sadly over the last few years Cahir and his family couldn’t attend this because every year, different problems occurred. With his father’s sickness and the death of his oldest brother Aillil, every year brought some reason for them to not be able to go hunting but this year, everything was going well and the family finally got invited again. And while the men were out hunting all day, competing to see who would get the biggest loot, the wives would stay in the darn of the host, this year it was Cahir’s family, and prepare the large feast for the evening, which meant that I was invited too.

So some days later we started our journey south to Vicovaro, Cahir’s “real home” as he always called it. With every mile we got closer to his homeland, I could see the excitement in his eyes growing and it was absolutely adorable.

And then we arrived in front of the darn that belonged to his family. It had been a while since we have last been there but now we were finally there again. We got greeted by Cahir’s parents who hugged both of us tightly. I was so happy that they accepted me into their family.

It was already late so we all enjoyed dinner and then Cahir and I headed off to bed. The next morning was when the hunt finally began. Cahir gave me a quick peck “for luck” and then he started going into the woods with his family, all in full armor and carrying the family crest. And while they were gone, I headed into the kitchen where the women of the family of the host and also of the guests would prepare the feast for the return of their men.

---------

So we were all standing in the kitchen cutting, stirring, mixing, cooking and, of course, talking. This was my first time being part of this tradition so I somehow got to be the center of attention. So many elderly ladies asked me about Cahir, our wedding and our relationship, if I really loved him or if we married for money and status and of course my favorite question: “When are the children coming?” I told these women that Cahir was very busy and that we didn’t want to rush into something we weren’t ready for but in reality, no matter how hard we tried, I couldn’t get pregnant. This was none of the women’s business though so I didn’t want to tell them.

“You do know about the tradition, right?” One of the elderly ladies started. When I only gave her a questioning look she started to explain herself. “It’s been a tradition that after a successful return of the men, their wives would reward them at night. Perhaps you should take this chance to try for a baby?”

When I heard this I accidentally snapped. “This is none of your business. We try for a baby when we’re ready.” After a moment I realized that I was rude. “I’m sorry. I just don’t like talking about such private matters.”

With that I quickly went away. I tried to forget what the woman said but I was curious so I decided to ask one of the sisters of Cahir about this “tradition”.

“Oh yes. It is a tradition of the loving wives to welcome their husbands back home. After the feast the wife asks her husband to take her somewhere private and then the husband picks her up and carries her out of the room.”

I blush at this tradition. Growing up I was taught to never talk about such private and intimate things and this tradition just seemed so inappropriate. So then I was wondering why Cahir didn’t tell me before.

“Perhaps he knew you don’t like such things and didn’t want to make you uncomfortable?” His sister guessed and I just shrugged it off, a little embarrassed.

---------

In the evening, after countless hours of being annoyed by old women, we finally heard the loud clattering of metal, indicating that the men had returned. We all walked to the entrance and saw Cahir and his family looking rather proud and the other families looking disappointed but not really angry or mad. I ran up to Cahir and hugged him tightly.

“We did it.” He told me. “After so many years we finally got victorious again.”

“I’m so proud of you.” I told him and gave him a small peck on the lips to which he grinned.

“I believe it had something to do with you. You’re my lucky charm.”

“I’m glad you’re back.” I whispered and giggled a little. “Now I don’t have to endure all these old ladies any longer.”

---------

The evening is joyful, loud, filled with music and good food. And after we all ate so much we almost burst, Cahir took my hand and led me to the dance floor. His movements were elegant and graceful, he has always been a good dancer. We looked at each other lovingly and enjoyed each other’s company and warmth and we swayed to the music. Every now and then Cahir leaned down to kiss my forehead or my nose or to give my lips a little peck and I always had to giggle a little.

“These women are watching us.” I whispered which made him smile a little.

“Can you blame them? We’re by far the sweetest couple and you’re by far the most beautiful lady in all of Vicovaro, oh what am I saying… you’re by far the most beautiful lady on the entire continent. Besides… most of their marriages had nothing to do with love so I imagine it’s exciting for them to see a young couple truly in love.”

I giggle again. “Oh, is that so?” I say teasingly.

“Absolutely. I adore and worship you and I am totally devoted to you. With every day that passes I feel my love and admiration for you growing more and more. With every single minute that passes you get more beautiful and I am so happy to be able to say that your heart belongs to me and that mine belongs to you.”

I started tearing up at his sweet words and pulled him down and kissed him with much more passion and dedication than I normally would have dared when so many others were around. I didn’t care about them, the only thing I cared about was my beloved husband. And then I remembered that tradition so I leaned in close and whispered:

“I know about what we’re supposed to do after this feast… so would you please take me somewhere private, my beloved husband?”

Cahir blushed for a short moment but he picked me up as if he was waiting for me to ask him that. He carried me out of the big dining hall, not being bothered by all the people watching us. He carried me to his childhood bedroom where we spent all night making love, talking, cuddling and enjoying each other’s company. And little did we know that we managed to create a new life in this very night.

[g0ofy-g0ober]

Reader who has no Clue Alastor is Ace or a Pychopath X alastor who is manipulative about his views

Writing a manipulative power Hungry Alastor because it's fun, please don't read this as accurate to any persons sexuality, this is just my personal headcannon based on Alasrors personality while considering that he is ace, only psychopaths enjoy others weakness (or kinky people but I digress)

----------------------------------------------------------

You clutch your sheets, hands feeling the cool expanse of the insanely expensive sateen bedclothes that grow warm under your grip. You were clearly pouting, running ideas through your mind on how you could possibly broach such a conversation with Alastor, who up until now had been the picture of a perfect boyfriend.

He was perfect, not in the modern "good morning" and "good night babe" texts, bare minimum way, but in the deep raw romantic way.

His ministrations, like laying coats over puddles or sending you bouquets of plush red flowers, and other attempts of his attentive courting sometimes left you with eerie feeling. Yet his smile stayed as consistent as his romantic displays, after a argument you'd find a vase of hyacinths on your doorstep. When you saw something you shouldn't have, he'd sweep you into his arms after you almost got hit by that broken book shelf! Things aligning in an eerie way that sometimes turned your stomach.

Sometimes you wondered if he was trying to fuck with you or fuck YOU when he would lean into the crook of your neck hot breath fanning against you, only to pick lint of your collar.

The way he'd look at you whispering how he would "join you in bed tonight" a lecherousnes in his gaze only to arrive dressed in scrooge like pyjamas at 9pm fucking sharp he would switch off the lights in the room and lay down to sleep, with an oddly adorable but also cruel "good night dear!"

You felt insane, standing infront of him in cute pyjamas, arms outstretched but he would just waltz past, sometimes planting a cold smooch on your forehead before wrapping himself up in your sheets once again, falling asleep at 9pm, like a fucking grandad.

You bit your lip, rolling it between your teeth as you thought. Are you meant to try to seduce him? is this just something you ask for outright?

You were stumped in every other relationship you have ever been in usually Sex is one of the first topics broached, and if not discussed, it usually just happened naturally after a night of alcohol and other bad decisions!

Time flew fast with alastor, especially when helping the steadfast hotelier put out various fires in the hotel, and suddenly, you were nearly a year "dating" with no signs of that kind of physical intimacy.

You resolve yourself to ask him, heading out for your usual day and eventually making the decision to ask him to come to your room early. To which he smiled, his eyes narrowing curiously despite his seemly joyous agreement.

Eventually, when the time came you were sat on your bed, picking at the skin of your hands as Alastor appeared from behind the creaking door "Hello my deer-" he said smiling bright and large as he shut the door behind him, shedding his microphone and coat at the door with his tail swishing behind as though he was about to begin his nightly routine of "pajamas, bathroom, bed".

"Honey... can we- talk?" It came out of you in a strangled anxious way, like you were wrangling the words out, cursing those darn connectives rather than having a normal adult conversation.

"Why of course! What is it you want to talk about" he grinned darkly, eyes shining with curiosity at your anxious display, his favorite thing about you was how clearly you betray your emotions, he knew it was weak of you, but he couldn't help but drink up every moment of it. Satisfied that you could never betray him.

You likely didn't think this far trying to find a delicate way to explain your thoughts feelings and desires when faced with the source of them, you panic big time "so uuh-", "basically" , "why.?" Eventually you steel yourself with a shaky breath before uttering an awkward but disponded sounding "Why haven't we slept together?"

Alastor pauses for a moment he had been avoiding your lasciviousness like the plague because, realistically, he would rather have the plague. He loved you sure, in his own strange way, but the way you looked at him so dejected, like he would be repulsed by you, made him feel powerful.

"Oh my dear-" His voice dripping with a cruel kind of sympathy as he hooked a sharp finger under your chin, the pad of his thumb dragging your bottom lip a dark blush spreading across your features for a moment before moving to caress your cheek "why in satans name would I ever dream of defiling you in such a wretched way!".

Your face fell, yet his grin never faltered as he uttered the words that made you feel like a rude, perverted, charlatan for even asking!

Your shoulders slump even as you lean into his gentle touch on your face. "I'm sorry," a confused mumble leaves your lips before you even register, wait? What are you sorry about? You consider for a moment before a gentle kiss is placed on your forehead, distracting you all over again.

(IDK IF RHIS MAKES ANY SENSE BUT MANIPULATIVE ALASTOR WHO "CARES" BUT LOOKS DOWN ON THE READER IS MY JAM MAN)

If you like this concept, please feel free to play with it! I'm not really a writer, and I would love to see some reblogs or tags with better renditions of the vibe I'm Tryna give!

[asnarkyandironicusername]

Day 18 of @remadoramicrofics - Night of the Aging Werewolf

Teddy crept down the steps, careful to avoid the second-to-last, since it had started squeaking. His father insisted he would fix it, but Teddy sometimes wondered if his parents used it as a trap. He moved silently across the living room floor, a skill acquired through years of monthly missions, until he reached the kitchen. He hovered in the doorway and listened for a moment; sometimes, his mother would forget something and come up the stairs in a flurry.

When Teddy had first started doing this, his father had been so strict and his mother so vigilant that it had taken significant effort to avoid detection as he snuck to the cellar door. As the years passed, though, his father had remained steadfast, but his mother had relaxed, sometimes forgetting to take her wand or deciding to come up to fetch a drink or something else. In a week’s time, he’d be at Hogwarts and he intended to spend this full moon with his parents – consequences be darned. He pulled his blanket tight around his shoulders and set his pillow down from where it had been tucked under his arm as he settled in front of the door.

He leaned forward and peered through the small keyhole into their cellar. Usually, it was dark and chill, just an old root cellar, but on full moons, his parents charmed it to stay warm and dimly lit. Tonight, his mum sat twirling her wand in her fingers while his dad was curled on the other end.

She was talking to him quietly, so quietly that Teddy couldn’t hear. Suddenly, she popped up from the sofa and headed towards the stairs. Teddy scrambled backwards, but the blanket and pillow coupled with his shock did him no favors and he instead sprawled out on the floor. He had just righted himself when the cellar door creaked open.

Teddy stared at his feet, ready for a dressing down. His mother cleared her throat and he looked up at her. To his surprise, there was no cross look, but a small, knowing smile on her face. “Well, come on, would you like to tell your father goodnight?”

“D-downstairs?”

“Are you scared, Edward?” she asked a bit louder than necessary.

Teddy shook his head. “No, but Dad always said –”

“If you want to come down and tell him goodnight, you’re welcome to, and then you can head off to bed.”

Teddy nodded. “I want to tell him,” he said as he squared his shoulders.

“Leave the blanket,” his mother instructed, “Your father will never let me hear the end of it if you get hurt coming down to see him. Even if it’s just because you took a tumble down the stairs.”

Teddy giggled as he followed her down the steps. His father was still on the sofa, though he seemed to be a bit nervous, but had draped a paw over his snout. “Wotcher, Da.” Teddy said as he sat next to him on the sofa. Tonks squeezed in next to him.

“I told you, he has your curiosity, Remus, and your courage,” his mum said smugly. She looked at him. “I told him he should have known you’d come sneaking around.”

Teddy’s jaw fell open. “How long have you known?” he asked them.

His mum laughed. “Your father knew as soon as you came off the last step that very first night, Teddy.”

“I was so quiet. And fast!”

His mum shrugged. “Your father’s impressive.”

Teddy looked his dad over; the way he had tucked himself as small as possible and kept his paw firmly over his snout. “Are you mad?”

His dad thumped his tail twice.

“Means no,” his mum said, “three is a yes.”

“So can I stay down here, too?”

Remus, again, tapped his tail twice. Teddy deflated as his mum slung an arm around his shoulder. “I don’t even get to stay all night, kiddo.”

“Can I…touch you?” Teddy asked.

Remus looked Teddy over before slowly tapping his tail off the sofa three times.

“Mind the teeth,” his mum said as he reached out and ran his hand over Remus’s head.

His mum stood up. “Alright, up to bed you go.”

Teddy pouted. “Right now?”

“Yes, Teddy.”

“Mum –”

“No arguing.” 

Teddy groaned and turned back to his father. “Goodnight, Da. See you in the morning?” Three taps.

“Let’s go mister,” she said as she pulled him up and steered him to the steps. When they reached the top, she kissed his cheek before handing him his pillow and pointing him towards the steps. “He loves you, Teddy, it’s why he doesn’t want you down there,” she told him gently. “It took ages before he even let me get a peek of him, it’s just how he is.”

Teddy nodded. He knew all of this, of course. She added, “I think it’s the age – it’s softening him.”

They smiled at each other. “He’ll be okay; we’ll make him breakfast,” he said as he started for the steps.

“We will,” his mom agreed as she watched him.

[inorganicone2230]

This Waking Nightmare (Part 2) Yandere!Morpheus x Fem!Reader

Part 1 and Part 3

Summary: Even before his capture, Dream of The Endless had always longed for a loving partner to share his eternity with, and when he finds that an unexpected turn of events may be the first step towards gaining what it is he has been yearning for for so very long, he’ll do anything to make it a reality.

So when Alex Burgess unexpectedly flees after the death of his father, leaving Fawney Rig to crumble into disrepair, Dream had no idea that his salvation would come, not in the form of any of his siblings, nor by any feat of cunning on his part, but simply by the unprecedented arrival of a single mortal girl who would go on to forever reshape and change the very fabric of the Dreamlord’s endless existence.

Warnings: There are no warnings for now, these first few chapters will be fairly tame.

Neil Gaiman is a master storyteller and I own nothing related to The Sandman in any of its forms and/or adaptations.

It wasn’t too hard to find the entrance to the basement, not when someone had graffitied two of the most famous book quotes of all time right across the door and walls in big black letters.

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here & As above, so below

Whoever did it had probably thought that they were being very clever, but in actuality, they really just came off as being very pretentious and lame. If this were a horror movie, it would be beyond the realm of B-rated cheesiness.

You opened it without much hesitation or fanfare and the door swung inward on rusted and squeaking hinges. Shining your flashlight in, you could see that it wasn’t anything special, just a rickety old staircase that led down into what you naturally assumed was just an ordinary and equally as old basement.

You debated turning around and leaving since you would still have to make the trek back up the incredibly long driveway to make it back to the main road and blessed cell service, but you’d already come this far, you silently told yourself, it’s not like a few more minutes of exploring is gonna do you any harm. After all, if Kalvin had been telling the truth during the drive over, then there wasn’t going to be much to see down there anyway. You’d likely be in and out in less time than it was taking you to actually debate this inconsequential task.

With your mind made up, you slowly began making your way down the stairs, being extra careful to watch your step on the way down so as not to fall and hurt yourself. However, when you finally reached the bottom, you were surprised to see that the opening to the space was blocked off by yet another barrier, this one a barred metal gate that reminded you of an old prison cell door. Luckily for you and your now thoroughly peaked curiosity, it wasn’t actually barring the way anymore since it appeared someone had long since taken it right off its hinges and just left it lying on the floor where it fell.

Carefully making your way around the darn thing so you wouldn’t trip over it and possibly twist your ankle, you finally got a look inside the place, and needless to say, it was pretty damn impressive.

“Holy shit…” You exclaimed.

This sure as hell wasn’t what you had been expecting. You had obviously never seen the basement of a mansion before, but you had imagined that it wouldn’t be that much different from any other basement. However, the dinghy space you had been anticipating entering wasn’t at all what you currently found yourself standing inside of.

Instead of a low ceiling full of cobwebs and support beams and a compact dirt or concrete floor, in its place you found a space the size of a small parking lot, complete with a high ceiling to add more openness to the underground space and solid stone flooring that left echoes in the wake of your footsteps. But it was what you saw in the center of the room that made you truly take notice.

There was a section of the floor in the shape of a large square, smack dab in the middle of the room, that appeared to be separated from the rest of it by means of what you could only interpret as a mini trench of some kind surrounding it in an equally shaped outer square. After moving closer to shine your flashlight down into it, you could just barely make out the telltale signs of dried up sludge coating the bottom, indicating that it must have been filled with water at some point.

“So it was a miniature moat or something?” You questioned the empty room as you continued to look around. If you had to hazard a guess, this probably had less to do with interesting architecture and more to do with the cult that had once called this place home back in the day. There was a small pathway that cut through the mini-moat and gave access to the strange spot, and since you were still curious to get a closer look at it you moved towards it.

*scrap scrap*

The faint sound came from behind you and in a whorl of spiked panic, you spun around, and aimed the flashlight in the direction of the scratching noise and prayed to God that it wasn’t the aforementioned axe murderer you had briefly imagined earlier.

At first, you didn’t see anything at all, but upon closer inspection, you noticed the faint outline of a large rodent near one of the alcoves in the wall and relaxed ever so slightly, but as soon as the light touched it, it shrunk back and suddenly skittered down into the ground through an opening of some kind.

You might have been content to simply forget about that and continue on with your snooping now that you knew there was no danger, except for the fact that you remembered that this whole floor was seemingly made out of stone; and there should have been nowhere for that rat to go underneath it all. You weren’t entirely too sure, but you didn’t think that common household rats were known for burrowing in the ground, much less burrowing through solid stone.

Now thoroughly intrigued, you made your way over to inspect the area and realized that this one random section of the floor was made of wooden planks that extended out from the wall by 4ft or so, in fact, this odd wood trimming seemed to run around the entire length of the room. It was like the people who originally lived here were trying to cover the stone with the wood flooring, but stopped midway through the project for some reason.

Angling your light over the spot the rat had disappeared into, you saw that there was a hole in the wood about the size of a baseball and without much more thought, proceeded to get down on your hands and knees to shine the flashlight inside.

You knew this was an incredibly strange and silly thing to be doing, you weren’t going to find anything of real substance or value in a rat nest, but some unseen force (probably the tequila and your damned curiosity) was pushing you to follow through and at least check it out, if only for the sheer madness of it.

But it wasn’t a rat in a small hole that you saw…

Not even close… It was the broken top step of an old wooden ladder.

“The fuck?” You took a second look to see if it was some kind of trick of the light or even just the broken off piece of wood that would have originally filled in the hole, but sure enough, it was a fucking ladder of all things.

Using the sleeve of your jacket to brush away the thick layers of previously undisturbed dust and dirt coating the wood, you soon found what you were looking for in the form of a rectangular seam that didn’t match up with the rest of the wooden floor boards lining. A quick knock on the top even confirmed your suspicions when the sound rang back hollowly.

This was definitely a hatch door, but it had no handles to lift it with or even hinges at the back to help it angle it upward. If you wanted to get it open, you were going to have to take the whole thing off. But that begged the question of whether or not you even wanted to bother with it. It was probably nothing more than a dank and dirty old root-cellar, but still, you couldn’t help but wonder about it, and you knew that you’d keep thinking about it over and over again if you left without even trying.

Mind made up, you set down the flashlight and positioned it to shine where you needed it before pulling out a sturdy switchblade from your pocket that you had been carrying around for years in case of an emergency or accident. This wasn’t the kind of situation you ever thought you’d find yourself to be using it in, but better this than a potential kidnapping.

Over the course of the next half hour, you worked to use the knife as a makeshift crowbar and pry up the hatch. It wasn’t easy since the damn thing was nailed down in a few spots, but with a little bit of time and elbow grease, it eventually became loose enough to lift and toss aside. The smell of stale air wafted up from the opening and you coughed as the scent settled into your lungs, but it didn’t smell like something rotten or anything horrible, so at the very least, if there were any dead bodies down there, they likely weren’t fresh. As you peered down into the hole, you could see that the drop was about 6ft to 7ft down and the floor was concrete, you just hoped the old ladder was strong enough to handle you going down and back up it at least once. The last thing you wanted was to get stuck down there and end up starving to death, because you highly doubted that Gabby and the others were going to come back looking for you.

So, keeping the knife in your hand, just in case, and the flashlight in the other, you slowly and carefully began making your way down.

The wood groaned and creaked under your weight, but not enough to make you believe it was going to give out or break. You still felt incredibly relieved when your feet finally touched the ground though and you turned around to get your first look at the secret space.

However…

…

…

…

That relief was incredibly short lived upon discovering what exactly it was that this odd chamber had truly been hiding.

—————

Morpheus froze in stunned awe as he watched the young woman deceased down the ladder and into the dank darkness of his prison chamber, the flashlight she carried in her hand shining like a beacon from the Silver City itself as it cast eerie shadows all around the space.

If he were mortal and not the true universal embodiment of dreams and the unconscious mind, he might have pinched himself to see if he was dreaming this all up, but such a thing couldn’t be possible, the entrapment circle crafted around his cage had prevented him from dreaming since the moment of his capture.

Which could really only mean one thing…

That this was real.

It was difficult to make out her features from the dim light cast by her flashlight, but right now, he couldn’t care less what she looked like, not when she held the power to help free him just by simply being here. She was the first true living thing he had laid eyes on in… well… he didn’t accurately know how long, but it was long enough that the mere sight of her was enough to make him want to weep.

But as she raised the light to look around, her reaction to seeing him made it clear that he was not at all what she had been expecting to find down here. 

She screamed in surprise and stumbled back onto her rear, gaping at him in shock and disbelief. She stayed still like that for so long that, were it not for the erratic rise and fall of her chest to indicate otherwise, Dream feared she may have passed out or even died of fright right there on the spot.

She eventually seemed to get her bearings about her and he heard her mumbling some rather choice words before coming to a decision and he watched with bated breath as she closed up the knife he just now noticed she carried in her other hand and put it away in her pocket. She began scrambling around the chamber, looking for something, though he knew not what for.

That question was soon answered however when he saw her bend down to pick up a large rock with a jagged end, to which she must have deemed acceptable, because she was suddenly making her way over to him. He nearly smiled in gleeful triumph when he saw her shoes scuff a line through the entrapment circle, weakening its enchantment on the glass and his power.

She set the flashlight down on the ground before turning to face him through the glass, a determined look set upon her rather beautiful face, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he heard another's voice ringing in his ears. He didn’t know if she truly had the voice of an angel, for that’s exactly what it sounded like, or if he was just that desperate for the sound, but he didn’t care. He wanted to beg her to keep talking, to fill his ears with the sweet melody and never stop, but he found his own voice was caught in his throat as the shock that he was finally free settled over him. The long awaited relief washed over him in delightful waves and he slumped against the glass, unable and unwilling to take his eyes off of the beguiling creature standing on the other side of his cage, the rock in her hand raised high and poised to strike.

“Just hang on, I’m going to try and get you out!”

And then she moved.

—————

Finding a naked young man trapped in some kind of creepy glass cage down here was so far down the list of things you hadn’t expected to come across, that it wasn’t ever even an option. But that’s exactly what it was, and you just figured that you could worry about the ‘how’s’ and ‘why’s’ of this incredibly odd turn of events after you had gotten him out of this thing.

For a brief moment, you had thought that the best thing you could do would be to leave and get far enough away to call the police and let them handle this. But you knew they’d likely just think this whole thing was a prank call by some bored teenagers and ignore you, or they’d show up and you’d get arrested for trespassing before losing your scholarship and getting deported. There was also this man’s safety to consider, you admitted to yourself as you thought of what could go wrong if you left him here for even a few hours. You doubted he was down here by choice; what if whoever put him there came back to kill him, or what if he ran out of air or something while you were gone?

He didn’t look hurt or anything as far as you could tell, so he couldn’t have been trapped for very long, you thought, even as your subconscious mind took notice of how there were no human footprints of any kind trailing through the dirt and dust that blanketed the floor, or how there seemed to be no other entrances/exits besides the one you just came through, and that one clearly hadn’t been used in decades.

All of these thoughts piled up in your head faster than you could comprehend or keep track of them, but in the end, it was none of them that made you decide to help him. It was the look on his face, the look that told you something fundamental would shatter inside of him if you turned your back and left him here alone, even if it was only for a short amount of time.

Now here you were, banging on the seemingly indestructible glass with a rock to try and break through, and in your panic, it never even occurred to you to try and see if the damn thing had a door with an outside lock to try and open for him or something.

At first, all it did was scratch the surface and you fears you may actually have to go back up in search of a better tool, like a hammer or something, but after a few more hard strikes in the same spot, spiderwebs and hairline fractures began to splinter outward from the area and you could see that a small hole had been formed. Once the structure was weakened enough, breaking through the rest of it was comparably easy to chip away at, and soon, you had made a hole big enough that he could squeeze through. There were metal pieces wound through the glass and you dragged the rock against both, trying to get rid of as many jagged chunks as you so he wouldn’t seriously hurt himself when climbing out.

“Just… umm, let me brush away some of these shards and pieces before you get out.” You said awkwardly, not entirely too sure how to speak or what to say in a situation like this as you took off your coat and used it to clear away the glass that had fallen inside the cage and then did the same to the floor so he, hopefully, wouldn’t end up slicing the bottoms of his feet to ribbons.

“Give me your hand and I’ll help you out.” You said, trying to remain as calm as you could. He hadn’t said a single word yet as he just kept staring at you with wide eyes and a gobsmacked expression.

You hadn’t bothered to get a really good look at him, not just because of how strange and disturbing this situation was, but also because the man was butt-ass-naked. But now that you were so near to him, you couldn’t not take notice of him and his rather… appealing physique.

Pale skin so white it almost seemed to glow in the dim illumination cast by your flashlight and a messy shock of pitch black hair set over an angular face that you could only describe as being utterly beautiful. With high cheekbones and full pursed lips that were making you think of very sinful and inappropriate things, it really was a miracle you weren’t drooling right now, and that was just what he looked like above the neck.

He didn’t take your outstretched hand though, and instead grabbed the metal portion of the structure and swung himself out with all the ease and grace of a practiced gymnast. His feet touched the ground without a sound and he didn’t even seem bothered by the potential injuries and infection he could sustain from the broken glass and filth ridden floor. He just stood there, stark naked and silently watching you.

As he stood to his full height, you could now see that he was quite a bit taller than you, by at least a couple of inches, if not a whole foot, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you had hit the nail on the head when you thought his movements were as fluid as a gymnast’s, because he certainly had the body of one. He was lean, but even in the crappy light cast by the flashlight, you see that he was sculpted with ropes of solid muscle. He reminded you of those famous statues from Greece, the ones carved from marble to look like the ancient heroes from the epics, like Hercules and Achilles.

But as you looked up to make eye contact with him, you found yourself completely hypnotized by what you found there.

His eyes were the color of raw silver, like dancing silver flames, or the glinting of two bright stars in the deepest and darkest night sky. They were captivating and you found that you were so enraptured with them that you didn’t even realize you had taken a step forward until you heard glass crunching underneath your booted foot and you snapped out of it, jerking back with frightened shock over the momentary loss of your inhibitions.

You really were trying your best not to ogle him, but that was rather hard to accomplish when he was making no move at all to cover himself and you refused to turn your back on him. You might have helped him out of a really bazaar situation, but that didn’t mean you trusted him enough to let your guard down completely with him, he was still a perfect stranger after all.

“Listen,” You started off, trying to find something to say that would help to ease the tension of this incredibly awkward silence. “Now that we got you out of whatever that thing is,” You made a hand motion towards the now destroyed cage. “We should really look at getting out of here before whoever it was that put you in there decides to come back.” You took a step back, opting to put some distance between you and the stranger, but for the first time since you laid eyes on one another, he spoke, and you weren’t entirely certain if it was his words or the haunting raspy sound of his voice that made you freeze, but you did and it cost you.

“They won’t be returning.”

You opened your mouth to ask what the fuck he meant by that, but faster then you could process what was happening, the man’s hand shot out and snagged your wrist. He gave a gentle tug and you went falling into his arms, but before you could even begin to struggle or open your mouth to scream, he opened his other hand and blew something into your face and everything suddenly went dark.

—————

Morpheus caught you in his arms as you went limp against him, the last thing he wanted was to see you get needlessly hurt, especially since he now owed you quite the generous life debt for unknowingly freeing him from what he was beginning to think would be an eternity of confinement.

Looking down at your peaceful expression, he used some of what reminded of his limited power to look into your dreams, trying to find out any information he could in regards to you and the state of the world he was about to re-enter.

Quite often, he was able to glean a lot about a person’s waking life, not just from their dreams, but from the multitude of thoughts that tended to run rampant through their mind in those hazy moments right before sleep truly claimed them. Those moments were often similar to that of waking dreams and he used to use them rather frequently to gather information when it was necessary.

And you were no exception to this trait.

In a matter of moments he knew quite a lot more than he did a few hours ago.

For example, he now knew that he had been imprisoned for well over a century, 106 years to be exact. He also now knew that your name was (Y/N) (L/N), you were 21 years old and attending university here in England despite not being British, he had even learned that you had been fortunate enough to get a single dorm room on campus and that you had been abandoned here after a rather interesting altercation between you and some of your fellow classmates.

With this knowledge in hand, he scooped you up into his arms as gently as he could and found himself marveling at just how soft you felt in his arms. You fidgeted a bit in response to the movement and grumbled something unintelligible before going quiet again, which showed just how weak he truly was, if he was at full power and in possession of his tools, you would have entered into a sleep so deep that only a select few things would have been enough to wake you. That thought was enough to spur him into action once again, and using the knowledge he’d gained from you, he called upon another morsel of his nearly depleted power and brought the both of you to an entirely new location.

Your dorm room was about what anyone could expect of such accommodations and Morpheus was quick to pull back the soft blankets and lay you down on the mediocre bed. 

However, despite knowing he should be leaving right this moment to return to The Dreaming and begin the hunt for his tools of power, he found himself increasingly reluctant to fully release his hold on you. He hadn’t felt skin to skin contact in so long, even before his imprisonment it had been quite a while; but it was one thing to shun such a thing by choice, it was another thing entirely to have the option of it totally stripped away from you by force. Now he was feeling it again with you, and to his touch starved skin, it felt like the most exquisite thing in the world, both waking and dreaming.

Without realizing it, he found himself sitting beside you on the bed and stroking the tips of his fingers down your cheek, you sighed in your sleep and leaned into his touch, as if soothed by it. The simple and unconscious reaction left him with goosebumps prickling his skin and his heart stuttering in his chest as he continued to watch you sleep. He thought about entering your dreams and seeing what such a brave little mortal would conjure up in his realm, but for some inexplicable reason, he found himself unwilling to look away from the peacefulness of your sleeping face here in the waking world.

Eventually though, he knew he had to depart. It was time for him to finally return home, to go back to The Dreaming and assess the damage wrought by his absence over the last century, as well as to begin the search for his tools.

Cupping your face in his hands, he leaned over your sleeping form and pressed his forehead against your own and whispered your name softly to the otherwise silent room.

“You are my savior, my light in the darkness. I don’t believe there is anything I can do that will ever truly be enough to repay you for what you have done for me tonight.” Being this close to you, he couldn’t help but notice your enticing scent and how it made his mouth water, not with the typical hunger one would expect after so long in confinement, but with something that left his cock twitching against his bare leg. However, he ignored that feeling as best he could and continued on. “But this I promise you, my little savior, once I have my tools in my possession again, I will see to it that you spend the rest of your life with nothing but the sweetest and happiest of dreams whenever you enter my realm, even if I have to enter your dreams every evening and craft them by hand myself. I vow that no nightmare will ever intrude and interrupt your sleep ever again.”

There was so much more he wanted to say to you, so much more he wanted to do, but time was of the essence and he needed to leave, before he did something very foolish, something that would surely bring the wrath of the universe down upon his immortal head.

And so, with nothing more than a quick kiss to your brow and another heartfelt exclamation of gratitude, he was gone in a whisp of shadows, as if he had never been there to begin with.

Please enjoy and let me know what you think of this second chapter! I’m dying to know what you all think is going to go down.

Please forgive any minor potholes or inconsistencies, I tried my best to make the detail changes make sense for the story I wanted to tell while still keeping in line with the original source material. This is mostly based off of the Netflix series, but there are some details about the comics and audio books thrown in for flavor.

And as always, I want to give a very BIG thank you to my amazing friend @talpup for all the brainstorming and encouragement on these stories! I’m  sure I would have given up on this blog a while ago if it wasn’t for  all of   their help. I highly encourage anyone who takes the time to  read this to go over to their page or their AO3 account under the same  name and check out their works, especially Chaos and Lost Song. They  are two of my favorite BNHA fics of ALL TIME! And who has also started  their own Yandere!Overhaul fic called Crossroads and is set in a  1920′s prohibition style era, it’s amazing and you really need to check  it out!  

[museqmeg]

Reporter’s Notes - Chapter Three: Coffee

___________________________________________________________________

A vashmeryl fic

Author’s Note:

No real notes for this one. Just something that popped in my head.

____________________________________________________________________

It was the third morning of traveling with the two reporters. They were fortunate enough to find an inn with enough rooms for everyone to rest the night before. The last night any of them had in a real bed was at Jeneora Rock.

Jeneora Rock… Vash felt a tightness in his chest and gut, thinking of Rosa, Tonis, and everyone else that suffered because of him. He fully intended to go off alone after the destruction. He was used to being banished from the communities he kept getting himself attached to.

He was a little shocked when Meryl and Roberto tracked him down and insisted that he go with them. Meryl was the most verbal in trying to convince him and Roberto just looked at him from the truck with a face that said, ‘Just get in kid.’

He was so tired and so broken down after seeing his brother and the losses Nai incurred. Vash had no fight left in him. He hopped into their truck thinking he could just slip away when the time was right. He wasn’t going to endanger more people.

But here he was, three days later and still with the two reporters. The brevity of traveling with them and enjoying the dynamic between mentor and apprentice drew Vash in like a magnet. Honestly, any of their human interactions did. He supposed he was being selfish, but he didn’t want to be alone just yet. He knew he should leave, but he couldn’t bring himself to go.

The guilt of Jeneora Rock was eating at him and ironically, causing him not to have an appetite at all. He hadn’t eaten anything since the incident and always made a point to be off doing something else when Meryl and Roberto stopped and made time for meals. He hoped they didn’t notice. He wanted to keep things light, for their sake and his. The little, positive moments he had with them were the only things keeping him from spiraling into a pit of true self-hate. Their little distractions. His favorite distraction so far was teaching Meryl how to shoot. Sure, it was amusing to stumble upon her and watch her honest attempts, but not in a mean-spirited way… more out of entertainment and curiosity.

He was eager to teach her something he was an actual master at and could help keep her safe. He wished he could keep everyone safe. If a short little lesson to improve her accuracy and gun safety skills could increase her chances of avoiding harm or death… then that was at least one more human life he could save.

He vocalized many times that he felt no pride, but the moment he heard and saw the “ting!” of the bullet hitting the can, something giddy filled his chest. Seeing her bright smile at the accomplishment made it bloom even more.

He wished more of his interactions with humans were like that and not so heart-breakingly catastrophic.

Vash absent-mindedly threw his bag on the bed and started to gather his belongings from their stay when he heard a knock on his door.

“Hello?” He called out.

“It’s me, Meryl. Is it alright if I come in?”

He stopped packing and walked over to the door, turning the handle to open the door. He smiled down at her eager face. “Sure Meryl! What’s up?”

She skittered quickly past him and the open door before turning to face him and said, “Roberto is gathering supplies for the next few days. Apparently, the next town is quite a ways off, so I hope you enjoyed having a bed last night. Sleeping arrangements are going to be bed rolls on the sand or cramped in the truck, depending on the weather.”

Vash gave her a smirk saying, “Darn… I thought traveling with the media was going to be a high-end luxury experience.”

Meryl rolled her eyes. “Speaking of that, I also came to ask if you had breakfast yet. I thought with Roberto gone, I could get some interview questions in while we wait for him.”

Vash scratched the back of his head, not feeling good about lying to her before saying, “I had some food from my pack when I got up this morning.”

“Oh...”

“But, I’ll still do the interview!” He hated disappointing her, anyone really. But seeing her face fall did nothing to unease the twist already in his gut.

Her face brightened back up before clapping her hands together. “Okay! Then just coffee then! I have to throw my stuff in the truck, but we can meet at that little cafe down the road from the inn.”

“I’m actually almost packed now. I’ll just go with you.” He smiled back at her.

He finished packing while she ran back to her room for her bag before tossing their things in the loaned Bernardelli truck. As they walked to the cafe, Vash watched as Meryl pulled her notebook and pen out.

“Whoa! Starting the interview already?” He quipped.

“Sure! What kind of top reporter would I be if I didn’t capitalize on my time with the Humanoid Typhoon?”

Vash stopped dead in his tracks. The guilt punched him in the gut and before he could pretend nothing happened. Meryl had stopped too and was looking up at him with concern.

“Hey… are you okay? I’m sorry, that was poor taste on my part with everything that happened recently. I wasn’t thinking.” Guilt washed over her face.

Vash was angry at himself. It wasn’t her fault. It was spilling all onto her. The shame, the guilt. He needed to change the mood, not for himself, but her.

He looked up pointing, “Is this the cafe?”

She turned her head in the direction of his finger, “Yes!”

They both found a table and settled in for their interview. A server came over to take their orders. Vash wasn’t surprised when Meryl ordered a sweet chai latte. The drink order seemed to fit her fiery, but caring demeanor. When the server turned to him, he just ordered a plain black coffee. He didn’t deserve the little treats life had to offer. He probably would have ordered something similar to Meryl, had his self-loathing not consumed him. He loved sweet things, donuts especially. He saw them up at the counter behind a glass case, but couldn’t bring himself to order any.

He looked back at Meryl, who looked at him and back at the glass case. She quickly turned eyes back to him while brandishing her pen and paper.

“Alrighty! First question… When is your birthday?”

Vash was caught off guard, this wasn’t a serious article question. “Uhh… July 21st.”

“Year?”

Dangerous territory. He liked Meryl, but hadn’t known her long enough to share that bit of himself. It would just raise more serious questions and terrify her. He was a master of smoke and mirrors though.

He looked at her young face and took in her mannerisms. He heard her and Roberto bickering in the truck enough to know that she was a recent university grad and their professional dynamic was clearly a mentorship. He also remembered how it felt to be that young and naive. Excited about life’s possibilities.

“Let’s just say a few years older than you.”

Her face did something funny he couldn’t read while she scrawled and read aloud, “mid to late 20s.”

“Hey now! I said a few!” He knew he was much older, but it did sting his ego just a little to have her insinuate he didn’t look close to her age. It was one of the perks of being a plant!

She just giggled and said, “You have a world-worn look to you that ages your face sometimes.”

Damn. Maybe hanging around reporters wasn’t such a good idea after all. A little too perceptive.

The server had returned with the coffee. Meryl reached out for hers and took a sip while Vash mock-grimaced at her, “Next question.”

“Favorite color?”

He grinned while brandishing his prosthetic hand over his torso. “Isn’t it obvious?”

She grinned back asking, “How did you get a coat like that? It’s so red. I don’t even know where’d you find something like that.”

“It was a gift.” He was hesitant to share much more. She only nodded while scribbling his answers.

“And your earring?”

“Oh, that’s not really something worth sharing.” He was getting a little embarrassed, propping his head in his hands.

Meryl just looked up at him waiting with a bemused expression.

Vash let out a whoosh of air, admitting defeat, “I was drunk with some friends and dared to do it. I hate to admit it, but I think I look rather dashing.” He took his left forefinger and flicked the hoop so it would catch the sunlight. It made Meryl laugh and he felt his gut and chest loosen. He took a sip of his coffee, more for show that everything was fine.

“Wow, old and vain.” She mused.

He was about to counter her when she asked, “Favorite food?”

“Are these just going to be lowball questions?” he asked with a fake annoyance. He picked up on what she was doing. She somehow knew something was off and was doing exactly what he was trying to do for her.

“Oh definitely, these are the questions our readers want to know about the infamous outlaw.” Her grin was taunting as she looked up at him.

He glanced at the donuts again knowing she was onto him, but answered with his second favorite food instead, “Pizza.”

“Am I to understand that the Vash the Stampede is a sucker for junk food?”

“Oh most definitely.” Giving her a mischievous grin.

She was writing in her notebook when he said, “Okay, my turn for questions.”

Her head shot up. “You’re not the journalist!”

“No… but I did give you a shooting lesson the other day for free. I am an ace gunman you know. That amounts to at least one question.” He winked with his right forefinger up.

“As I recall, it was you who played off any gun skills when we first met.” Meryl pushed his finger down.

“Part of being an ace gunman. Gotta keep the cards close to the chest.”

She made a more serious face at the comment.

Shit, he just outed his whole mask. “Please? Just one question?” He asked, making a sad puppy-dog face.

Meryl sighed through her nose, in mock defeat and set her notebook and pen down. “Okay, one question.”

“Why did you come after me after everything that happened?” Vash’s face had a quiet solemnity to it.

A startled look came across her own face at the serious inquiry. She looked down, fidgeting with her hands before saying, “It didn’t seem fair to put the blame all on you. It seems like the world is so quick to do it. I mean, that’s how I ended up finding you in the first place. Our bureau sent me with a mentor who does the bare minimum to write a fluff piece on the Humanoid Typhoon. We expected to find a caricature of a person, but instead it was just a normal, albeit goofy, gentle human being.”

Vash stopped breathing for a second. She saw him as the same as her: human. If only she knew… It was a wave of comfort and shame all at once. He had a hard enough time grappling with his “humanity” and his plant origins. And here was this tiny human, accepting and sharing in his humanity.

She kept going, “You seemed like you needed help, especially when we first met you. You were tied up and upside-down.” She chuckled. “But then you did share some of your story and how the blame wasn’t completely on you… I know I said we would write an article to clear your name and that ‘journalistic integrity’ crap. But I… we did it because we wanted to help. We wanted to go with you.”

Vash looked at her in silent awe, the gut twisting feeling he had in his stomach the last few days dissipating into a warmth spreading in his chest. He started to reach his right hand to hers and thank her when Roberto was suddenly standing over their table.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Vash pulled his hand back and smiled warmly at him.

“No!” Meryl answered, flustered, “Just a little interview for our article!”

Roberto only looked at her red face and the dopey smile on Vash. “Uh huh…”

He reached down to grab Meryl’s notebook, her protests and hands coming up to snatch it back.

“What kind of questions are you asking him, newbie? Birthday? Favorite color? Favorite food? I thought you were top of your class?” He gave her a look of feigned disappointment. “You’re both acting like a bunch of school kids.” He chuckled and tossed the notebook back on the table. “I’ll pull the truck up. Finish your coffee and let’s get going.” He left, ruffling Vash’s hair and still chuckling to himself.

Vash had a feeling Roberto knew what she was up to as well.

“I’ll take care of the bill. Go ahead with Roberto.” Meryl said standing from the table.

“S-sure!” Vash stood up as well, picking up his coffee mug and chugging it.

“You can go ahead and have mine too. I’m finished.” Meryl smiled at him, turned and headed to the counter.

Vash looked down at her sweet drink and smiled. She did that on purpose too. He reached down and drank it. His secret way of saying thanks for cheering him up.

They were on the road for a while when Vash noticed a paper bag in the seat next to him. His curiosity got the best of him and he opened it to find it full of honey donuts. There it was again, that tightness in his chest. It wasn’t the tightness of guilt though. He looked in the rear view mirror hoping to catch Meryl’s eye, but she had been watching the whole time.

Vash smiled at her and said “Thank you.”

She just smiled back with a nod when Roberto blurted, “Thank you for what?”

Vash laughed, “For the coffee and kindness. Really, thank you both.”

Roberto just shrugged and said, “Don’t mention it.”

Meryl was still smiling at him in the mirror. “I figured out that pizza wasn’t your favorite food. You had mentioned donuts to us once before when we questioned why you actively keep your gun in its holster. Your excuse was that you preferred to spend money on donuts. Plus, your glances at them in the cafe this morning weren’t subtle.”

Vash laughed, “You got me.”

He tucked the bag of donuts under his seat for later. He still wasn’t feeling up to eating, but the weight of guilt in his chest was considerably lessened. Damn, he did it again. Went and got attached to some humans. He really couldn’t help the affection he had for them. It was going to be harder than he thought to shake these two off.

____________________________________________________________________

My only gripe with Tristamp was that we didn’t see poor Vash get a single donut. So he got a whole bag of them here.

Also, Meryl’s answer to Vash’s serious question is a reference to my favorite video game, Final Fantasy IX. Points to you if you know the event I’m talking about. :)

[luimagines]

The Chain and Fierce Deity end up in Pokemon Trainer!Reader's world. Next portal drops everyone in an unfamiliar open field, well except for Reader as they quickly realize where they are. A fact further cemented when Sky points out some peculiar birds flying above their heads and Twilight finds a herd of strange fluffy sheep.

Reader: Welcome to my world apparently! From the herd of Wooloo, I can say we're in the Galar Region's Wild Area.

Wild: We're really in your world?! I'm so going to go exploring.

Reader: I actually have a private home not too far from here. Follow me.

It's a bit difficult for everyone to not split up and explore as they follow their trainer companion. Various wild Pokemon look at everyone in curiosity with some braver ones try to get closer. Not even Fierce is an exception as quite a few small ones perch on his shoulders or run around him.

Reader has some Pokemon that tend to act like a dog who haven't seen their owner for awhile aka they jump on them and show affection. The moment everyone reaches the surprisingly large(for the Chain as houses in their world tend to be smaller) their Trainer friend gets tackled by a big blur.

Attacker in question being a 6'7 Stalfos version of a dog with a tombstone on their head. The only thing keeping the Chain and Fierce from fully drawing their weapons is Reader laughing as the bony Pokemon nuzzle them.

Reader's Pokedex: Houndstone, the Ghost Dog Pokemon. A Ghost Type. Lovingly mourned Pokemon are often reborn as a Houndstone. They are known to be the most loyal to their master amongst all Dog Pokemon. This Pokemon usually spends most it's time sleeping in graveyards. Houndstone doesn't like anyone touching the protuberance on its head.

Reader: I'm happy to see you too! Whose been a good girl huh? *pets the skeletal dog*

Time: Quite clingy aren't they? I guess that means the rest of your Pokemon are here too.

Reader's Pokemon often come in the house so the furniture and doors are customized to suit them. One reason why Fierce was surprised upon finding a bed big enough for him to lay on with still room to spare. Definitely went to check out Reader's various Pokemon.

They were thrown through a multiple times as some looked like inanimate objects and even bear resemblance to food as well. Sky got a lot of inspiration for new wood carvings while Twilight immediately won over Reader's canine Pokemon.

The Chain definitely made a blanket fort in the front room even if a particular Grimmsnarl nearly took it down by scaring Wind. Reader's Houndstone try to steal a random Link or Fierce's shoe more than once and run up to them for attention. They like stealing Time's shoes the most.

Overall an interesting yet nice change of pace for everyone. Even if someone wakes up to a different Pokemon having snuck into their bed.

You think Twi would start crying when he hears about how Houndstone comes to be?

"They were so loved in life that they came back in death!!!!!" DX

FD wants to pet all of them.

It's a bit difficult given his size, but he tries darn it. He's going to be afraid of accidentally stepping on one.

Wild is taking pictures of all of them now that he can see more up close. Might even look for ways to capture a pokemon for himself. Someone stop him. He knows no limitations.

[olivetreehugger]

IT’S HERE!!!!! Finally, goddamn this chapter took me forever to finish. I can’t tell you how many times I scrapped it and rewrote the dang thing. But it’s here, and that’s what matters.

above is a very cute screen grab of the character I’ve adopted and named Nani, who is the main character of this story. She’s so darn cute!!!! Would she not just be perfect for Bolin? I think so! Anyway, please see below for chapter two of Dispatches From Republic City!

Chapter Two: Reputation

Chapter Two: Reputation

It was early morning when Nani entered the Tea Market, her stomach growling impatiently for breakfast.

Located near the Four Nation’s Hall, the Tea Market was an outdoor bazaar/hodgepodge of food and beverage vendors. They offered everything from typical comfort meals to rare finds like pickled narwhal and sea prune paste (Water Tribe), thousand-year eggs and fish stew (Earth Nation) and boiled silkworms (Fire Nation).  The Market saw a wide range of customers; everyone from important businessmen and politicians to triad members and hobos crossed its threshold.

It was rare that Nani had free time to visit, but ever since she was fired from Mama Chen’s, she found herself coming here more often. And after having such a restless night, she was both tired and ravenous.

The delectable scent of fried duck and congee tickled her senses from a few stalls away. Nani inhaled deeply and sighed, her eyes closing with a sad nostalgia. That particular meal brought back happier memories of her childhood, when she had a roof over her head and people who cared for her.

For a moment, she wondered what life would have been like had she stayed. Maybe she wouldn’t be starving now, standing in the middle of the Tea Market with two yuans to her name, with the image of Nuktuk begging for money on the street the only thing keeping her going.

Nani opened her eyes. That familiar feeling of failure began rising in her chest, hot and prickly, but as it reached her throat, she swallowed it back down and shoved it back where it couldn’t see the light of day. There, she mentally turned the locks and ignored its pounding on the door, pretending it was never there.

Gripping her purse, the brunette made her way to the stall. She placed her order and the vendor turned to the iron pot where the meat was being fried. As she waited, Nani turned her head to look at the surrounding stalls. Almost immediately, she saw something that made her do a double take.

Two men were walking in her direction. They were speaking to each other. It didn’t take her long to recognize them both.  

One was dressed in a policeman’s uniform, black hair tidy and combed to the side, hands in his pockets. The detective from last night, she realized.

It took her a second longer to recognize the second man. He was just a bit shorter, dressed in a relaxed suit, his hair styled with gel. He was much more animated than his counterpart, arms emoting furiously as he talked.

“Something something, Mako, something something something!”

Nani’s eyes flew open as her mind flashed back a few years. Mako…as in…Mako and Bolin? The Fire Ferrets…the Bending Brothers—THAT Mako and Bolin? Oh, shit.

The pair drew closer as Nani awkwardly turned back to the vendor. She handed one yuan over in exchange for her meal. The heat of the cardboard holding the congee emanated through her fingertips and into her blood stream, warming her from the inside out.

It would’ve been nice to simply focus on the delicious food in her hands, but her mind was concentrated on the pair walking behind her.

“Are you sure about this, Bo?” The detective, Mako, asked. He sounded concerned.

“Yes, I’m sure!” His counterpart expressed. “This is gonna be huge for my career!”

Nani’s ears perked up with curiosity. She listened for their footsteps to clear and turned her head, watching their frames disappear into the crowd.

Not wanting to lose them, the brunette lunged forward, skittering across the dirty street to catch up. She held her food close to her chest, trying not to spill it all over herself as she moved. Eventually, she was close enough to eavesdrop, but hopefully far away enough to remain hidden.

“I’m not questioning your interviewing skills, bro,” Mako retorted. “But this sounds like a big deal--.”

Bolin grabbed his brother’s shoulder and exclaimed, “Uh, yeah! This is a big deal; it’s Cherry Wong!”

Nani’s hands suddenly went weak and her food slipped from her hands. Thankfully, she righted herself and caught the cardboard receptacle before a single morsel could be lost.

Did…he just say Cherry Wong?

“Exactly! This is the real deal. She’s coming out of retirement, so they’ll want some juicy information and dialogue,” Mako stated matter-of-factly. “Not some funny sound effects and jokes!”

 A gasp of disbelief left Bolin’s mouth. “How dare you say that?! I am a reporter for the people and by the people! And guess what? I’ve already got a list of questions I’m gonna ask her.”

The older sibling was quiet for a moment before a defeated sigh left his lips. “Bolin, you’re not gonna ask her if she can touch her nose with her tongue, are you?”

An embarrassed scoff, “Tssshhht, no! Of course not….unless, no, no. Heh, definitely not.”

More silence, and Nani felt the secondhand embarrassment seep into her bones as Bolin’s shoulders sagged in defeat.

The earth bender muttered, “Okay fine, I’ll cross that off my list.”

Mako patted Bolin’s back and replied, “Look, the key to any good interview is good research. I do my homework before I interview a perp, and it helps me stay on track. I suggest you do the same.”

“Huh,” Bolin responded. “I guess that’s a pretty good idea. Although touching your nose with your tongue is also pretty dang impressive, I guess it would be helpful to know more about her as a person. Well…I’ve got a few months to figure it out!”

Mediocre and stupid…Shiro really knows how to pick ’em, Nani mused.

The brunette watched the brothers walk out of the market in disbelief.  Her heart was doing somersaults in her chest and her nerves felt like they were buzzing.

When Nani was barely hitting puberty, Cherry Wong announced her sudden retirement on air, citing a severe chronic illness as the reason.

The world was not prepared for this unexpected departure, and Nani, her number one fan, was crushed. She used to pray for Miss Wong’s return, begging the spirits to listen. Maybe after all these years, they finally heard her.

With a smile on her face, Nani turned back to the market and scooped some congee into her mouth. The savory porridge combined with the fatty duck, spicy peppers and scallions instantly took her back. There she was, tucked between the other kids, the radio humming with Miss Wong’s velvety voice as she serenaded them to sleep like a surrogate mother.

The memory made her eyes burn, but she told herself it was the peppers. The news of Cherry Wong coming back to Republic City was incredibly stimulating, but knowing that Mr. Hot-Shot-Radio-Host would get an opportunity to not only meet her, but interview her….well, Nani couldn’t blame the hot feeling in her face on the peppers anymore.

Hastily, she finished her meal and wiped her mouth on her sleeve. She looked over at the horizon, where the antennas of the radio station were just barely visible.

A few months, huh?  She mused internally, a grin forming on her face. I better start preparing.

___000___

The clouds had made their departure from the bright blue sky as Nani paced behind the radio station. She’d been practicing her introduction for several minutes now, and was growing frustrated.

Now, Nani was a damn good liar. It was a skill sharpened by years of living off the street, deceiving and swindling for a loaf of bread or a place to sleep. It was just something she had to do to survive—this was no different.

That audition could have transformed her life if she had been give the chance, but Bolin took that away from her so he could tell cheesy jokes into a microphone. He already had everything he needed in life. Why couldn’t he just go back to pro-bending? Why couldn’t he continue starring in those stupid movers? What did he get from this?

Prior to this morning, Nani didn’t plan on doing anything drastic. She figured she’d “bump” into him outside the station, pluck his wallet in the confusion, and go about her day. It would’ve ruined his week, but it wouldn’t have caused any significant damage to either of their lives.

But it was deeply personal now. Bolin was going to work with her all time hero, and he was likely going to fuck it up. He didn’t need her help to do so, that’s for sure. However, this was likely her only opportunity to meet the woman she’d looked up to her whole life, and she wasn’t going to pass it up.

If she could only figure out a convincing cover story to get her inside.

“Hello, my name is Tanana, I work with the Tribune—” No…

“Hi, I’m Tanana, I’m president of the Cherry Wong fan club—” No, no, coming off too strong…

“My name’s Tanana, I just finished secretary school—” Who are you trying to fool? You can’t even type!

She groaned in defeat, leaning her head against the brick wall next to her.

“Fuck….I can’t believe this is my life,” she murmured to herself.

“You said it, sweets,” a female voice replied dryly.

Startled, Nani twisted her head back to see a woman standing outside the back door.

She was beautiful, her bronze complexion complimented by her piercing blue eyes and long, wavy black hair. She wore feather earrings and a long lilac coat. Between her two fingers was a lit cigarette, its end burning a deep rust color.

Nani blanched. How long had she been standing there?

The stranger took a drag and laughed, the air whistling through the gap between her front teeth.

“I know that feeling. You look like you could use a smoke,” the woman said, offering Nani the cigarette.

The brunette took it cautiously. She hadn’t smoked one of these in ages.

She took a puff and coughed a couple of times. The familiar nicotine buzz came over her quickly, and she felt her nerves start to calm.

She coughed again and gave it back. “Thanks,” she said.

“Don’t mention it,” the woman replied. “’Name’s Koko! Nice to meetcha.”

Nani shook Koko’s hand. “I’m Tanana. You can call me Nani, though.”

Blue eyes widened with excitement.

“Oooh, so you’re a Water Tribe gal, too? Shoulda known, you’re way too pretty to be anything else.”

Nani frowned, responding curtly, “No, I’m from the city. Born and raised.”

Koko pursed her lips and shrugged.  Blowing out a final cloud of smoke, she flicked the cigarette onto the ground and crushed it with her foot.

“If you say so, sweetie,” she responded. “So, what do you do? Oh, wait, let me guess: reporter, president of the Cherry Wong Fan Club, and a secretary? That’s an impressive resume.”

Nani’s cheeks bloomed with red heat. “So, you heard all that, huh?” She asked, wishing she could crawl into a dumpster and die.

A windchime-like laugh left Koko’s mouth, exposing a silver capped tooth. “I stepped out for a smoke and I heard ya rambling like a hobo on dope—figured I’d stick around and make sure you were okay,” she admitted.

Nani cleared her throat. “I take it you work here?” She pointed behind Koko to the station.

“You betcha,” the blue-eyed woman replied. “And I take it you want a job here?”

Her stomach nearly leapt into her chest as Nani responded, “You could say that.”

Koko looked her up and down, sighing, “A word of advice, sweets: if you wanna get a job, especially at a joint like this, you’re gonna need to look a little more put together. You’re also gonna need some experience in the entertainment industry; and something tells me you ain’t got it.”

Nani looked at the ground in shame. Koko was right; she hadn’t bathed in a few days, her hair felt like a rat’s nest, her face was bare and swollen from lack of sleep, her oversized wool dress was stolen from a neglected clothing line near by….she definitely did not look “put-together”.

But.

“I have experience,” she argued. “I used to sing in clubs.”

“Used to, ‘eh?” Koko asked, raising a thin eyebrow at her. “Let me guess, your pimp tried to share you with his partners so you made a break for it?”

Nani’s hand instinctively flew to her hair as she tugged and twirled at it. Tahno didn’t exactly like sharing his toys. And he also didn’t like it when his toys got more attention than he did.

“Not exactly,” she muttered.

Koko looked her up and down again, this time her expression softening. She took a few steps towards Nani, reaching for her but not quite touching her.

“My mom fell on hard times, too. I know it’s rough,” she started.

Nani frowned and looked away. She didn’t want pity, she wanted a job….but it felt nice to be seen.

Koko offered her a smile. “Tell you what; we’ve been looking for a backup singer to help jingles and stuff. I sing on ‘em too, so you wouldn’t be alone. If you can impress Shiro, he’ll hire you for commission. Whaddya think?”

Relieved, the brunette replied, “That sounds great, thank you.”

“Ah ah ah,” Koko responded, blocking the door. “Before we continue, you gotta show me what you got. No offense, but I’m not just bringing any broad in front of Shiro.”

Nani nodded, her heart suddenly thumping in her chest. Thankfully, she wasn't being held against her will in a brothel. She parted her lips and began singing one of her favorites,

“My man walked out, now you know that ain’t right,

Well, he better watch out, if I meet him tonight,

I said when I get low,

Ohhhh, I get hiiiigh,

All this hard luck in this town has found me,

Nobody knows ‘bout troubles all ‘round and ‘round me,

Oh, I’m all alone, with no one to pet me,

That old rocking chair ain’t never gonna get me,

‘Cause when I get low,

Ohhhh, I get hiiiigh,”

Her voice was a little nasally and raspy at first, but she quickly fell into her own rhythm, her voice growing more powerful with each verse. She finished on a high note, belting the last “high” with her whole chest.

Nani finished with a smile, looking nervously at Koko for some sort of response. She worried that she might’ve gone a bit overboard. Fortunately, the look on Koko’s face said quite the opposite.

___000___

Slender brown hands wrapped the satin scarf around Nani’s head and tucked in her stray curls.

“There, that oughta do it!” Koko exclaimed, turning the brunette towards the mirror.

Nani stared at her reflection, impressed by what Koko had done using only a bar of soap, a charcoal pencil, some rouge and a borrowed scarf.

She touched her face and smiled, feeling refreshed. She looked up at Koko’s reflection and said, “Thanks, I owe you.”

Waving a hand, the blue-eyed woman replied, “Don’t worry about it, sweets. C’mon, let’s go find Shiro.”

Nani followed Koko through the station as she gave her a glorified tour of the space. She hummed as she looked around. People, machines, papers, and noise filled the air. It was much busier than the last time she was here. She didn’t realize it took so many people to run a place like this.

“So…is your job singing?” She asked.

Koko shook her head, “Well, not really. I’ve written and recorded a few jingles for the show, but that’s a side gig. My real job is broadcasting—I work directly with the producers and talent to make sure everything goes smoothly before, during and after the show. I basically run this joint.”

Nani nodded in understanding. She wondered if she knew about the Cherry Wong situation.

The blue-eyed woman gestured for Nani to follow her upstairs, chatting vibrantly the whole time. Nani listened whole-heartedly, amused by Koko’s knowledge of office gossip. It was also kind of nice to experience real, personal interaction that went beyond the usual unpleasantries exchanged at her old job.

Also, Koko was pretty funny. The Water Tribe native had explained all the segments and shows they put on, what time slots they had, and how interesting they were on a scale of “yawnsville” to “better than sex”.

Apparently, she also worked on ‘Dispatches from Republic City’, which she had dubbed, “Almost as good as sex.”

With the mention of her self-proclaimed nemesis, Nani inhaled sharply.

“What’s it like working with Bolin, anyway?” She asked, expecting her to complain about how dim-witted and selfish he was.

Except, she didn’t. Koko came to a door that read “STUDIO” and swung it open. Smirking, she said, “See for yourself.”

Amplifiers, speakers, soundboards and monitoring panels lined the walls. The sound of rolling tapes clicked in the background. A man sat at a desk with a microphone and a panel of buttons and switches in front of him.

He clicked a bright red button on the base of the microphone. “That was perfect, Bolin.  Let’s take a quick ten and then all we’ve got are the sign offs,” he said.

“Sounds good!” An amplified voice responded from the speakers.

The man at the desk got up, nodding at the women as he left. Seconds later, the recording room door opened and a young man stepped out.

Whatever “it” was that celebrities had, whatever made them so magnetic, Bolin certainly had it. Seeing him out in the market was like seeing an old acquaintance you hoped to avoid, but seeing him here? It evoked a starstruck feeling that made Nani’s insides stir when their eyes met.

His smile was charming, charismatic even. His eyes, lush and green, never once left her face.

“Hey, Koko!” The man came closer, acknowledging them with a wave. “Who’s your friend?”

Looping her arm into the brunette’s, Koko replied, “This is Tanana! She goes by Nani!”

The earthbender’s smile widened. “I’m Bolin!” He stated, extending his hand.

Nani glared at it for a moment, then looked up at him.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she greeted, her tone frosty. She allowed the handshake, but didn’t like how it summoned butterflies in her core.

Koko added, “She’s here to audition for the backup spot!”

Bolin’s eyes widened, “Wow! So, you’re a singer, huh?”

Nani felt her cheeks warm up, “Well, sort of.”

“Oh, don’t be shy!” Koko exclaimed, elbowing the brunette in the stomach. “She’s a singer alright! And a pretty damn good one!”

The earth bender walked over to the console table near the door and picked up a small white box. He popped it open, revealing several moon cakes decorated with different glazes and syrups.

“I brought these for the studio. Take one, as a token of good luck,” he said.

Nani eyed the moon cakes keenly. The duck and congee from this morning had already made its way out of her stomach, leaving a familiar emptiness.

“Thanks, but I’m not hungry,” she stated firmly, unwilling to compromise.

Her stomach growled viciously in protest, betraying her.

Bolin chuckled, “Well, it sounds like you are. Just take one!”

Koko quickly jutted between them and clasped her hands together. “Oh, thanks Bo Bo! You know I love these!” She squealed.

Nani watched the girl pluck two cakes from the box. As she proceeded to take several bites from each one, Bolin yanked the box away from her.

“Hey! Don’t be greedy! Nani hasn’t had one yet!” He chided.

“C’mon,” Bolin turned back to her, holding out the box. “Pick your favorite!”

Between her stomach exuding whale mating calls and Koko’s ecstatic chewing noises, Nani caved in and reached for a small yellow cake that was drizzled with raspberry syrup. She brought it to her lips and took a careful bite.

Sugary sweet goodness danced across her tastebuds.

“Wow,” was all she said, running her tongue over her lower lip to catch a stray dab of syrup. She popped the rest of the pastry into her mouth unceremoniously.

“Super good, right? I got them from this new bakery called ‘Oolong’ on Main Street,” the earthbender rambled. “They were so busy! The line stretched out the door and all the way round the corner, but it was worth it!”

Koko sighed, “Good ‘ol Bolin, always feedin’ us. What would we do without ya?”

Bolin smiled again, winking at Nani.  “Hey, can’t leave my friends hanging! Today’s a long recording day—we gotta get through it somehow.”

It was that “it” factor again. Normally, the brunette was good at picking up on subtleties, so she was annoyed with herself for finding him so pleasant when just hours ago he was rambling like a senseless baboon. She glared at him. How were they even the same person?

His face was still round and youthful, but there was a sharpness to his features that she didn’t remember being there before. And yet, his expression retained a boyish charm.

He’s too good, she thought. How does he do that?

Bolin was also taller than she remembered, though she’d only ever seen him huddled in a booth at Narook’s. She was a little surprised to have to look up at him. 

Even his build was robust, his muscular shoulders, arms and chest making their presence well known under his clothes. He personified his element well, and Nani figured if she tried to punch him it would feel like punching a brick wall.

Not that she wanted to punch him (ok maybe a little).

“Hey,” Bolin said, tilting his head sideways like a polar bear dog. “I know this might sound weird, but I feel like we’ve met before.”

Nani glanced at him in surprise. She didn’t expect him to remember her.

She cleared her throat nervously, “It’s a big city, I doubt it.”

Shaking his head vigorously, Bolin retorted, “No, no! I know I’ve seen you around before. Where do you live? Little Water Tribe? Harmony Park?”

“Neither,” she answered. She could feel her underarms growing damp.

Rubbing his chin, Bolin studied her for an agonizing amount of time before sighing, bowing his head in defeat.

“I got nothin’,” he finally said.

Nani exhaled in relief.

“But!” The young man exclaimed, startling her. “You can bet I’m gonna figure it out!!”

“I won’t hold my breath,” Nani scoffed.

Koko licked her fingers loudly. “Have you seen Shiro, by chance?” She asked the earthbender.

Bolin rubbed his chin again, stating, “Hm, you might wanna try his office. He’s been drowning in paperwork since…well, y’know.”

“Gooootcchhaa,” the blue-eyed woman replied, offering him a wink. “Well, we’re gonna go find him, now. See ya, Bo Bo!”

As the women turned to leave, Bolin waved at Nani and hollered, “Good luck!”

Nani didn’t respond.

Walking behind Koko, the brunette asked curiously, “So, what did he mean when he said Shiro’s been drowning in paperwork?”

A look of discomfort crossed over Koko’s face. “Well, it’s not my business to say but….Shiro’s going through some stuff with the missus,” she confessed.

Nani nodded knowingly, but she felt a pit forming in her stomach. If the famous broadcaster was dealing with an irate wife and stress from work, who was to say he would even give her a chance?

Once they approached Shiro’s office, Koko flashed Nani a confident grin before rapping her knuckles against the frame.

“Who is it?” Came a muffled, but familiar voice.

“It’s your favorite Water Tribe gal with a present!” Koko replied in a sing-song tone.

The sound of shuffling came from behind the door before it opened to reveal a rather tired-looking Shiro.

Nani had never actually seen Shiro Shinobi, but she never expected he’d look like this. His eyes were bleary and red, his cheeks were sunken in, and he reeked of cigarette smoke. A five o’clock shadow peppered his lower jaw.

When his gaze settled on Nani, he nodded. “I see. Come in, come in.”

The pair followed Shiro inside. Nani nearly gasped at the state of disarray.  Paper cups half full of cold tea, crumpled up newspaper, stray napkins, and broken picture frames of an older woman littered the room.

She felt a twinge of pity for him.

“Shiro,” Koko declared. “This is Tanana. She’s here for the backup position.”

The older man offered her a half-hearted wave and plopped back into his chair. “Hello, Tanana. I take it you can sing, eh?”

Nani looked to Koko for encouragement. The Water Tribe native tilted her head to the side and darted her eyes towards the radio legend.

Taking the cue, Nani cleared her throat and replied with Koko’s pre-planned address , “Yes, sir. I’ve had several years of informal training as a child before I began singing jazz at the clubs. I’ve never been signed or anything, but I believe I can—”

“Alright, alright, you don’t have to tell me your life story, kid. Just show me what you can do,” he responded sardonically.

Although his answer was jarring, Nani decided to let his sourness roll off her skin and took a deep breath.

She flashed him a smile and opened her mouth.

____000____

“Alright people, I’ve got a jasmine, a Ceylon with sugar, one mint, a chai with sheep-cow milk, and two darjeelings,” Nani announced, pushing into the packed conference room for afternoon tea time. She set the serving tray down onto the table.

Bolin hopped up from his chair exuberantly, shouting, “Oh yeah! Nani, you are savin’ my life right now!”

He immediately dove to the tray and grabbed his drink, the Ceylon with sugar.

“Man, I really need this, I’m fading like an antique rug,” he sighed, bringing the cup to his lips.

“Careful, it’s still hot-” Nani warned, but she was too late--Bolin was holding back tears as he struggled to not spit out the scalding liquid.

She ignored him and walked the chai over to where Shiro sat, placing it in front of him with a smile. His tired eyes lit up.

“Thanks, kiddo.”

Shiro blew carefully onto the steaming cup a few times before taking a sip.

He closed his eyes and sighed, “Tanana, you might be the best tea maker I’ve ever met, and I’ve been to the Jasmine Dragon!”

The sound of affirmations and agreements filled the room as everyone eagerly enjoyed their teas.

Nani grinned. She’d been at Studio 54 for three weeks and already she had cemented herself as a necessary part of everyone’s day. Afternoon Team Time was a mandatory occurrence at the station (at Shiro’s behest), so she was tasked with the tea orders.

Originally, she was hired to record jingles for the currently airing shows. Koko warned her that the work would be sparse and dull since she was only a backup, and there were days she may not even be needed. Plus, the pay wouldn’t be all that great.

However, Nani was a resourceful woman. She knew how to make herself indispensable. The first day, she knocked on Shiro’s door and asked if he needed anything. At first, he only waved her away, but she persisted.

Soon, she was tidying up his desk and rearranging his candle collection. After that, she was writing memos and answering phones. Then she took responsibility of Afternoon Tea Time. She made herself Shiro Shinobi’s personal assistant and she took her role seriously.

She would be lying if she said she didn’t scour his office for evidence of this upcoming interview, but she never found anything substantial besides a frayed letter of correspondence between Shiro and Miss Wong’s agent, which didn’t have anything interesting in it that would benefit Nani’s cause. Disappointing was one way to put it, but Nani decided the gig was too good to just give up now. She was sure the topic would come up when the time was right. In any case, Shiro was barely in a state to be talked to right now.

The man was a bit grumpy and pathetic, but he was going through a nasty divorce and still had to run a very popular radio station. Nani couldn’t fault him for an occasional temper tantrum, especially since it was usually targeted at someone else.

The pay was quite a nice incentive, too. She was making eight yuans a day, which was more than she could’ve ever dreamed of. She saved every bit of her money, hoping to eventually find a small apartment so she wouldn’t have to keep sleeping on Koko’s mother’s couch. It was an incredibly kind gesture, but Nani knew from experience that kindness had an expiration date.

Which was why Bolin, of all people, perplexed her.

She didn’t buy his “boy-next-door” routine. A guy like that couldn’t bag a princess, a mover star, and a Beifong in the same lifetime. He was a haughty charmer, and an idiot, too—but he couldn’t possibly be that kind.

Ever since she started working at the studio, Nani took notice of how the earthbender always brought food for his colleagues, went out of his way to help them with tasks, and how patient he was when something didn’t go his way.

Just the other day, Nani accidentally spilled hot tea all over his notes for an upcoming segment.

“Gah!” He’d yelled, jumping back to avoid being burned.

As the ink blurred with the steaming liquid and dripped down the side of the desk, the brunette reflexively dropped to her knees and started cleaning, apologizing profusely. She expected him to strike, to yell, to at least throw something. Y’know, how angry men do.

Weirdly though, he instead got down to her eye level and asked, “Shit, Nani, are you okay?”

Nani nearly went into shock. She immediately stood, stone-faced.

“I’m fine.”

It was because she was Shiro’s personal assistant, of course. He had a reputation to keep, so that had to be why he was always so nice. On the inside, he was just as rotten as the rest of them.

At least, that’s what Nani told herself.

What really bothered her about all of this was how he and Koko interacted. Even now, the pair were chit-chatting and laughing about spirits-know-what during their meeting with Shiro.

Nani stood in the corner of the conference room, serving tray tucked under her arm, with an expression that could sour a lemon.

She couldn’t understand why Koko, someone so sharp and witty, was so chummy with this guy. Of course, Koko was friendly with everyone—sometimes even a bit flirty. But Bolin? Could she not see how fake he was?

Later that night, as the two young woman set the table for dinner, Nani decided to ask.

“What’s with you and Bolin?” She questioned.

The blue-eyed woman folded a napkin and placed it down before looking at her with a confused look. “Whaddya mean?”

Nani pursed her lips. “I mean, why do you hang out with him?”

Koko furrowed her brows together and stared at Nani. “Um, because I like him?”

Crossing her arms over her chest, the brunette scoffed, “You mean to tell me that you think that overgrown toddler is attractive?”

A chuckle left Koko’s lips. “Spirits, no! Bolin’s a cutie but he ain’t tan enough or hairy enough for me. I prefer tribe men,” she replied, thoroughly amused by Nani’s inquiries.

Nani uncrossed her arms and returned to arranging the cutlery. “I just don’t understand why you like him,” she admitted with a sigh.

Pouting, the blue-eyed woman replied, “Because he’s my friend and he’s nice.”

“That’s just it—he’s too nice,” Nani retorted. “Like, aggravatingly so. No one is that nice. Plus, he’s annoying, and peppy, and just so stu-“

The sound of the front door opening cut into her rant.

A resonant, raspy voice called out, “I’m home!”

“Hey, mom!” Koko called back.

Kalla walked in carrying two large take out bags from Narook’s and set them on the counter with a heavy “ooh!”.

The dark haired, older woman peeled her coat off and placed it onto a chair. She then turned to Koko and kissed her cheek. “How was work?”

“It was fine, Mom. The usual, y’know?”

Kalla nodded and turned to Nani with a smile. “And how are you, sweets?” She asked.

The brunette returned the smile shyly, replying, “I’m good. Thank you for dinner.”

Gesturing to the food, the elder Water Tribe woman said, “Dig in, girls. Before it gets cold.”

Nani gratefully helped herself to a heap of seaweed noodles, eyes rolling back as the familiar savory taste coated her tongue. It’d been a long time since she enjoyed Narook’s noodles. She gulped them down quickly, barely even chewing.

It took several minutes of silence, laced only with her own slurping noises, for Nani to notice Kalla and Koko were watching her.

“You must love Narook’s,” the younger woman remarked.

“Slow down, sweets,” Kalla uttered sternly. “You don’t want your cause of death to be ‘gagged on seaweed’, do you?”

Embarrassed, Nani set down her chop sticks.

“I-I’m sorry,” she muttered, not meeting their gazes.

Kalla smirked knowingly. “I remember when I first got off the streets. I inhaled every meal like it would be my last,” she explained. “I used to hide food, too, because I was afraid people would steal it from me.”

She covered her face with one hand and shook her head, laughing. “I remember your father would find rotting kale and mushrooms in the closet and say, ‘honey, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re not in the South Pole anymore!’”

Koko and her mother began cackling, and Nani chuckled along with them.

It was easy being around them, she decided. Both women were fierce and determined, but also carefree and forgiving. When Koko brought her to the apartment, Kalla, a divorced single mother, took Nani in without hesitation and refused a single yuan in return.

“Yue knows I’ve been there,” she’d said. “Save your money so you can buy yourself a castle one day.”

Nani would never forget that.

For the rest of dinner, she listened to Kalla and Koko chat about this-and-that, only participating to nod or laugh. When she finished, Nani began clearing her plate, but Koko reached out to stop her.

“I got it,” the brunette affirmed, swatting her hand away playfully.

Maybe she wasn’t allowed to pay for board, but she was sure as hell going to pull her weight in chores.

“So, Miss Tanana,” Kalla spoke, placing heavy weight on her name. “Who taught you to sing? Koko here was trained at Lady Tuya’s Academy. Their tuition was sky high but Tuya owed me from our days cleaning latrine’s together.”

Nani shrugged, stacking dirty plates into the sink. “No one taught me,” she responded honestly. “One day I was listening to the radio and I just started singing along.”

Leaning back in her chair, Kalla patted her stomach and hiccupped, “Huh. Well, I suppose practice does make perfect!”

“Don’t be modest,” Koko added, teasingly bending a squirt of sudsy water at the brunette. “Weren’t you in the Cherry Wong fan club?”

“President of the Cherry Wong fan club, thank you very much!” Nani quipped, spraying her back.

While the girls giggled and splashed around, Kalla admonished them from her seat, ���Hey, hey! I swear to La, if I see the water bill go up even one yuan, I’m throwing you both out on the streets!”

Nani immediately froze and quietly went back to scrubbing the dishes while Koko rinsed them.

“She doesn’t mean it,” The older girl assured Nani, bumping her hip jokingly.

“Did you hear about this Cherry Wong coming back from retirement?” Kalla asked.

Ears prickling, Nani snapped her head back. She feigned ignorance. “Really?” She asked.

Koko nodded with excitement. “Yeah! In fact, she’s coming to our studio to do an interview with Bolin in a few months! But it’s all hush-hush for now, no one else in the station is supposed to know—only me, Bo, and Shiro.”

She hesitated, then looked apologetically at Nani.

“Well, and you, I guess,” she added.

Makes sense why no one’s brought it up at all the last few weeks, Nani contemplated. She was a little annoyed that being Shiro Shinobi’s assistant hadn’t given her the “in” to the studio’s secrets.

Kalla cogitated aloud, “Speaking of Bolin—how is that sweet boy doing?”

Koko moved to the stove and began boiling water in a blue pot. “He’s as good as can be expected,” she replied. “It’s only been six months.”

“Breakups are tough,” the older woman sighed. “He and that Beifong girl were too cute. But that’s what happens when you love a bird too hard…they fly away.”

Nani listened keenly, pretending to focus on the soapy water in front of her.

“Sometimes people drift apart,” Koko commented somberly. She reached into an overhead cabinet and scooped a handful of loose leaf tea into the pot as it came to a boil. “Poor guy didn’t see it coming. He was heartbroken.”

Bolin? Heartbroken? Nani scoffed internally. Sure, and I’m Avatar Aang. Please.

Unable to keep in her contempt, the brunette quietly muttered, “I’m sure he’ll move on to another chick soon. Men don’t dwell on these things for long.”

Koko didn’t respond, but Nani could feel her icy blue eyes on her. She pretended not to notice and started gathering the tea cups.

“Well, I hope he finds a good girl he can keep grounded,” Kalla said, pausing for everyone to notice her joke.

After a painfully long moment, Koko huffed, “Mom, that was terrible.”

Nani couldn’t help but laugh, and Kalla laughed with her.

“See, at least someone thinks I’m funny!” She exclaimed.

Her laughter filled every crevasse of the kitchen, along with the earthy, rich aroma of Ceylon tea.  

[yostresswritinggirl]

Ooo, I love the thought of Tighnari and Cyno throwing flowers and petals to the Reader after a performance!! I can see the Reader blowing a kiss towards them both in response if they manage to see them in the crowd.

I’ve been thinking about some more Ballet/Tap dancer Reader from Fontaine with Cynonari scenarios I’d like to share again, I hope you don’t mind me talking about it some more, fgkjh-

So, I’m going to lean into the ballet dancer side for the next few thoughts/scenarios. I can’t help but imagine the Reader telling Cyno and Tighnari about their experiences in ballet; bad instructors, funny and happy moments, ballets they’ve been in, and opening up about any body image issues they dealt with along the way (more on this in a moment). In the world of ballet, there is a lot of pressure put onto you, both by instructors and yourself. Instructors correct you constantly (“Your footing is wrong, you need to do this…” “Your position is wrong, you need to that…” etc.) and you’re pretty hard on yourself as well. Linking back to the body image issue, in ballet, there is pressure to look a certain way, to attain bodily perfection. At first, the Reader really did struggle with this pressure, but has gradually built up their confidence in themselves over time. Although, if they do still deal with some body issues and insecurities, then Tighnari and Cyno will shoot down any negative thoughts and reassure/comfort them.

Reader: Imagine being required to show up for work each day dressed in a skin-tight leotard and leggings, where every perceived flaw is visible. Now imagine you spend most of your work-day surrounded by wall-to-wall mirrors, and you’re asked to constantly monitor your own appearance. That’s what it is like for ballet dancers. Overcoming the pressure to look a certain way was a pretty big challenge for me. 

Reader: “Will the crowd notice me if I am more attractive? Would they like me more if I was ten pounds lighter?” Those sort of thoughts ran through my head. I only saw what my instructors saw in myself - something that needed improvement.

Despite all the stress and hardship the Reader has endured, they still retain a love and passion for ballet.

On a more lighter note, I’ve been thinking more about the statement that Fontaine “revers true beauty and elegance” and trying to incorporate that into different displays of affection. One ‘elegant’ way I thought of was the Reader kissing their lovers’ hands. The thought of the Reader gently taking up their lovers’ hands and pressing their lips on their knuckles makes me so soft,,, And love letters!! Another way could be the Reader writing love letters to both Cyno and Tighnari. Also, I have this weird headcanon that courting in Fontaine is more ‘polite,’ if that makes sense?? (it’s mainly because Fontaine’s based off of 1910 France-) Like, opening doors for the person you like, offering an arm when you walk together, that sort of thing.

And the Reader learning more about Sumeru! The wildlife, the people, and everything else about it. They always have a wonder and curiosity about their surroundings.

Reader: Oh, wow! Tighnari, what’s this?

Tighnari: *looks over his shoulder*

Reader: *pointing to a pretty, but incredibly poisonous mushroom* :D ?

Tighnari: Okay first off-

I’ll give one more scenario with ballet dancer Reader- Parts of ballet dancers’ bodies can just crack at any time and they usually feel really sore. So when Reader cracks one part of their body Tighnari and Cyno just cringe at the sound-

Reader: (Ugh, my whole body aches…) *they flex their toes and the loudest cracking noise just,, goes off*

Cyno: *stops what he’s doing* *turns around*

Reader’s hip: *c ra ck*

Cyno:

Cyno: (Name),

Jackdaw Anon 🐦

I love it, I love it, gosh darn all of it

I can definitely see Cyno and Tighnari kind of paralleled their lives in the Akademiya with ballet reader's in the sense of their critic struggles. How despite art and academics are in the other end of the spectrum, the hardships weigh just the same in what they had to deal with

Hearing about the body issues and pretty much just knowing how important physique is (which is also kind of a weird thing for them both seeing as Cyno and Tighnari most definitely do not worry about looking good, not their priority pretty much, despite slaying so much), they do their best to assist in a more practical/applied way. Tighnari definitely would act like a dietician in keeping watch of their nutrient intake and suggesting meals

All a balanced diet, after all he's not a believer of cutting back in food, he knows that the best way to get in shape is to make sure that your food is carefully picked out in terms of the nutrients. Cyno in the other hand would help with exercise by either training (usually in the guise of combat) or just his daily routine of workouts, they like to do it near an oasis or any body of water so it would be refreshing.

Ballet reader does give me a regal vibe of like - a princess acting princely, elegant and androgynous somehow! Like in their tip toes, arm behind their back as they bow and take the hand of their lovers to kiss, a wink thrown in too as they do it. Cyno and Tighnari feel like princesses being charmed by their ballet prince haha

Oh oh and can't forget, I can definitely see them dancing on top of the huuuge mushrooms in Mawtiyima Forest after Tighnari showed them there accompanied by fireflies and the blue glows of the plants! It's so beautiful there for a ballet routine, Cyno and Tighnari always sneaks over to watch

And they also can make a popping sound on their knee when they move their leg a certain way too haha man, I wanna see how Cyno reacts when he sees how they break in their ballet shoes (bonus points if it was his gift to them too hahaha)

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

Shortbread, pt 3

word count: 1060 tags: @rampant-salamander, @bolontiku, @castiels-sunflowers

part 1, part 2 ___________

There was a confident knock on the door and you knew it was Bucky, and not Steve, who had done it. You opened the door, and Bucky brushed past you, pushing Steve ahead of him. You assumed all the apartments in the building were the same by the way Bucky knew exactly where to direct Steve to sit down in the small dining area. You turned away just as Bucky was looking over at you.

“Let me go get something to clean up that blood,” you murmured, heading to the bathroom. You looked in the cabinet behind the mirror and found what you needed before noticing the crisp nurse’s uniform hanging on the shower curtain rod. Of course, past-you wouldn’t be a medic. That would have been nearly unheard of in the early 1940s. You glared at the proper white dress and shook your head. Rather than heading back into the kitchen right away, you peeked in your bedroom, and sure enough, a small black bag was sitting on your dresser. A small nurse’s kit. It likely had what you would need.

You found Bucky holding a handkerchief against Steve’s forehead.

“Why do you always gotta push, Stevie?” He asked, pulling the hanky away and muttering a soft curse when blood started to well up again.

“Can I take a look?” You asked before Steve could answer. You were tense with anxiety, reminding yourself that these men didn’t know you, despite your history with them in the future. You placed your hand over Bucky’s and felt a shock go through your body. His head snapped over at you and you redoubled your focus on Steve and the wound. “I’m sorry, Sergeant. This apartment is dry, and the static builds up.” The lie was smooth on your tongue and felt like bile. You hated not being truthful.

You pulled the hanky away from Steve’s forehead and tipped your head. The laceration needed stitches, but you doubted you had sutures in your nurse’s kit. You pressed the cloth back against his head and looked at Bucky. He was staring at you, eyes wide.

“I’m sorry to ask, Sergeant, but can you hold this again? I need to find my sewing kit,” you asked, hoping the words tripping off your lips made sense in the context of the 1940s. He continued to stare at you until Steve smacked him in the arm.

“She asked you something, Buck,” Steve prompted when Bucky’s glare swung over to him. Bucky shook his head and took a deep breath in, taking over the job of holding the soiled fabric of the hanky against Steve’s head.

“Have we met?” Bucky asked as you took a bold guess and opened a drawer on a coffee table in the living room, hoping to find a needle and thread. Bingo. There was a well-appointed little sewing kit sitting in the drawer.

“I don’t think so?” You replied as you hurried back.

“Maybe my draft physical?” He asked, nodding at your nurse’s bag. You shrugged.

“Entirely possible, Sergeant. I see so many soldiers come through,” you agreed. You pulled an iodine swab from your first aid kit and threaded the sock-darning needle in the needle kit. You dragged the needle and thread through the swab, saturating the whole thing before looking at Steve.

“I’m sorry. This is going to hurt,” you warned with a soft smile. Steve nodded.

“Ma’am, before you start, could you at least tell me your name? We’ve pushed our way into your apartment and I feel awful forward demanding the help of a dame - uh - a lady, sorry - that we’ve never met before,” Steve asked. You smiled.

“Well, the sergeant here says we’ve met before, so it’s not forward at all,” you teased before offering your name. Steve smiled and then winced a little as you used a fresh iodine swab to clean the cut on his forehead.

“You don’t have to call me sergeant, doll. My friends call me Bucky.” Bucky stood to the side of Steve and had that same look of curiosity on his face as he had the first time he’d taken in your appearance. “I’m sure we’ve met -”

“Buck, can you keep the flirting to when she’s not going at my forehead with a darning needle?” Steve interrupted. You smiled, a soft laugh escaping you.

“Steve, I want you to breathe in slowly through your nose, and out through your mouth, nice and steady. In for a count of three, and out. It will help with the pain,” you explained. “Don’t worry about Bucky, I have steady hands.”

“I didn’t think nurses were allowed to sew people up,” Bucky commented. You arched your eyebrow and met his gaze.

“Do you have the money to take him to the clinic?” You knew neither of the men did. It was something Steve and Bucky both spoke about in the future. Bucky flushed and shook his head.

“Ma’am,” he nodded. 

This small, unfamiliar Steve showed the same courage that you expected from the Steve Rogers you knew. A small grunt of pain when you initially pierced the skin and then the slow, steady breathing you’d asked from him. You snipped the final thread, finishing the three neat sutures you’d put in.

“Keep it clean and dry. The stitches can come out in ten to fourteen days,” you explained. Steve nodded and reached toward his forehead, stopping short of touching the wound. “An aspirin might help for the pain.”

“We definitely have that in the apartment.” Steve offered you a shy smile and you grinned. Bucky saw his opportunity and cleared his throat.

“Can I take you dancing to thank you for fixing up my friend?” He asked. You looked into the blue eyes you already loved and saw none of the haunting regret your Bucky had. Your Bucky had been a more subtle flirt, almost insecure. This was the same man, but before all the wounds and horror that had been inflicted on him. You pushed back the thought that it was cheating, and considered that you might understand your future lover better if you knew him in this era.

“Dancing sounds nice. Maybe a drink?” You suggested. His lopsided smile made your heart race. He let his eyes run up and down the length of you.

“Forward. I like that in a dame,” he smiled.

[0perfectimperfections0]

Silence: Part 4

I got new glasses and the slight change in environment has motivated me to write some more because I totally don't have college assignments to do

<><><><><>

It was silent throughout breakfast. The small noises only came from metal hitting the ceramic plate as Lou poked and prodded at his food. "Eat. You didn't eat anything yesterday."

Lou was halfway into opening his mouth to argue before remembering the food offering Nolan had made a habit of bringing to the shed. It had been left untouched. Darn. A scoop of scrambled eggs filled the place of useless words. Nolan nodded in satisfaction and went to clean his plate off.

"Why are we going to LuckyBat's?" Lou asked again. This made the third time he had asked. Nolan made him drop it after the second.

"To talk."

"About what?"

"You'll find out when we get there." Oh, sure, yes, because that made Lou feel all the better about it. Curiosity quenched.

"But why can't I know now? It's about me, I'm assuming." Lou turned halfway in his chair to look at Nolan.

"Because I said so." Nolan closed his eyes as he said that, head tilting toward the blond authoritatively.

Lou's bottom lip poked out. "I'm not a child, so stop treating me like one."

"How would you know if I was treating you like a child?"

As simple as the question might have seemed, it held a heavy load of implications to it. Lou...didn't actually know. He'd never met or seen a child. He'd only read about them. And it was really about how they played or treated their dolls. "Well stop treating me like I'm your doll. I'm not." There. That he understood.

"Then how do you plan on getting taken care of?" Nolan leaned against the counter, hands behind him on the edge of it. "And don't say 'I can take care of myself' because we both know you can't. You proved that to me every day in that shed when I dropped off food for you."

Lou narrowed his eyes. "I'm not going to LuckyBat's."

"Good to know. But it wasn't an option."

"I'll be fine on my own here. You can go talk." Lou raised his nose in the air.

Nolan walked over, one hand on the back of Lou's chair and the other on the dining table. He didn't look impressed nor swayed by the idea. "I said I'd help you and that's what I'm doing. We're going to be doing some emotional unpacking when we get to Lucky's."

"I'm not doing therapy!" Lou was appalled at the idea.

A hand shut his jaw. "Inside voice. And yes, you are. You need it. It's one thing to bottle up feelings and hurt yourself. It's another to get to the point where you do it in your sleep. I'm not cleaning stuffing every morning."

"Please don't make me go." This was desperation talking. Anger didn't phase Nolan in the slightest. The only thing that stirred him was raw, quivering submission and pleading. "I don't want to be around them. The Uglies. Any of them. It's humiliating enough that they put me in this position. I don't want them...I don't...th-the satisfaction of seeing how they defeated me--"

"There. That's what I want to hear." Lou parted his mouth in confusion, brow raising. "I want you to stop telling me the 'what' and start telling me 'why'. I want to know why you didn't want to open the door for me this morning. I want to know why you're angry. I want to know why you don't want to do therapy." Nolan softened his gaze, head tilting to give a soft smile. "It's not that difficult to read your expressions, Lou. Or your body language. I know when something is wrong, I just need you to tell me why."

Lou put his hands on the table, thumbs fiddling with each other. He gave a shy glance up at the brunette. "So...if I do that I don't have to go to therapy?"

Nolan snorted. "Oh, no, you still have to go." Lou's shoulders slumped and he opened his mouth to plead again. Nolan cut him off with a finger to the air. "But it will go a lot smoother if you just learn to keep explaining yourself instead of leaving us with unanswered questions. The more we know, the more we can help you."

Stupid logic and stupid brunettes with their stupid logic. Nolan took Lou's silence and attention back on the food as submission. He ruffled Lou's hair as he walked by, miffing the blond.

<><><><>

"W-Why don't you be my therapist?" Lou gave a nervous smile. He stepped in front of Nolan from where they were about five steps from Lucky's door. "You're smart. A-And I don't hate you like I hate the Uglies. It could work!"

"Nice to know you don't hate me, but we're still going. Lucky is a lot smarter than I am. He's wise--"

"You're wise!"

"Lou," Nolan chuckled in an exasperated way. The blond clung to his arm, desperately trying to tug him back. "This isn't supposed to be a punishment." He tugged Lou forward and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, forcing Lou to walk with him. "It won't be bad, trust me. We'll stay for, like, thirty minutes and then we can leave."

Lou let out something of a mix of a whimper and a hum. Nolan knocked on the door three times and Lucky called out from inside saying he'd be there in a moment. "Just relax. We're not getting into anything serious yet, anyway. We'll probably just start at the beginning."

"Beginning of what?" Lou really didn't want to be here.

"Your life. Something happy before we get into the nitty-gritty of it. Like when you were first made."

Lou looked even more worried. His creation wasn't exactly a happy moment. How could they start with that? What about something else? Like...like when Ox first showed up. Or when they would run around the Institute playing the game Ox had called tag.

The door was opened by a smiling LuckyBat. He ushered them to come inside, offering tea. "It's great to see you here, Lou," Lucky spoke softly. Nolan had texted him in advance to be gentle. Make Lou feel welcome. Lucky was all about being gentle.

Still, Lou frowned down at the bat and hid himself partially behind Nolan. Lucky sent a small smile to the brunette and went to go make the tea. "You two can go ahead and have a seat! I'll be back in a moment!"

"Thanks, Lucky!" Nolan called back. He reached behind him to usher Lou toward the sofas, but his hand met air. Lou had eased the door open a few inches before it was shut and crushed his hopes with it. "Sit down," Nolan took Lou by the shoulder to nudge him away from the door. When they were finally seated, Nolan kept himself turned to Lou, legs crossed and one arm propped up on the head of the sofa. "Why don't you wanna do this?"

It was that stupid why question again. Lou gave a determined look. "Because I don't need it. I'm fine. Honest."

"Alright. Now answer my question again while telling the truth."

Stupid brunette seeing right through him. Lou lowered his voice, head tilting down as if that would help. "I don't want to talk about this stuff."

"We'll just start with the happy stuff, Lou. Nothing too heavy."

Lou made a quiet, frustrated noise. His hands clasped in his lap and he looked close to tears again. "I don't...know if I can do that."

"Why not?" Nolan played with a few damp strands of Lou's hair. The blond would be loathed to admit that it was soothing. Stupid brunette. Stupid comfort and care and warmth.

"Because...I don't remember anything happy. Not really." Lou looked down at his lap. "There's Ox when he first came to the Institute. But those memories hurt now, too. Or the time when the first batch of dolls came...but then they left so fast to the Big World and...a-and I hardly got to enjoy their company. All of my happy memories got ruined somehow."

Nolan watched those blue eyes water and his lip quiver. "How'd you sleep last night?" He asked instead.

The question obviously caught Lou off guard. He sniffed and looked over at Nolan. "Huh?"

"How'd you sleep last night?" Nolan continued playing with Lou's hair.

Lou scrunched his brows for a second and used a sleeve to wipe his eyes. "Good, I guess...except for ruining all your work." He gestured to his arms. "I...I had a nightmare, so maybe that's why I did it."

"Talk about the nightmare, then," Nolan suggested.

Lou let out a frustrated puff of air. He reached up again to wipe at his eyes and left his arm there for a moment. "I don't want to tell him about it. He'll tell Moxy o-or Ox or one of those other Uglies and then they'll tell the other dolls a-and then everyone will know I'm pathetic a-and they already humiliate me--"

His chin was grabbed and he looked into heterochromatic eyes. Nolan smiled softly. "He won't do that. This is a private conversation, okay? And you're not pathetic. You're not broken or weak or whatever else you've been calling yourself." He remembered those muttered words from this morning when he listened in through the door. "And you're not stupid. You just need help and guidance. That's why we're here. Because it sounds to me like you've been handling everything on your own and it's time we change that."

"Why can't it just be you that helps me?" Lou whispered pleadingly. "Not anyone else. Just you. I don't trust anyone else."

"And why do you trust me? What makes me different?"

"Because you never left." Now, Lou's voice began to shake and some tears trailed down his cheeks. "You always came back every day and I didn't even have to do anything. And you're still here."

Nolan sighed, looking into Lou's eyes. "Then just talk to me. How about that? I know I say it and when Lucky gets in here you'll still be nervous, but just pretend. We'll pretend together. Because Lucky still knows things that I don't. He'll know some techniques or something to keep you from hurting yourself. All I can do is be here for you."

"That's all I want, Nolan. I just want someone to stay. That's it." Lou sounded and looked desperate again.

Nolan had to look away from those eyes. it was like hurting a puppy. Heartwrenching. He let out a sigh and reached down to hold Lou's hand while staring at the wall. "Okay. We'll try a different approach. I don't want you to be uncomfortable, but you still need help. So, we're gonna meet halfway on this, okay?" Lou nodded quickly, hoping against hope that the result would be back in the comfort of Nolan's home.

LuckyBat wobbled into the living room with a tray of tea and set it on the coffee table. Nolan set one in front of Lou. "Hey, so...," Nolan let out a breath, "we're gonna try something different."

"Oh?" Lucky looked at Lou who had his head turned away. It was obvious he had been crying.

"Would you be okay with kind of hanging out in a different room and listening in while Lou talks to me? You can text me any questions you want me to ask him. He just...," Nolan squeezed Lou's hand, "This is new."

Lucky nodded in understanding, giving both boys a smile. "Of course! I understand. I'll be in the room right over there." He gestured a wing to one not far from the living room. "And you just start whenever you're ready," he spoke to Lou.

The door was left open. Lucky was not in sight. Nolan wrapped his other arm around Lou's torso. "Alright. Let's talk about that nightmare."

[tblsomedoodles]

Big Mama loves all her kids but I think she'll pay special attention to Leo. She isn't favoring him, at leastnot intentionally, but out of all her kids he's the one that's the most similar to her. He's her little minime, the first of her kids she found, and the one who managed to do what she thought was impossible. He managed to beat her at her own game, twice. So no, she isn't intentionally favoring him, but there's no denying she'll probably pay special attention to him and possibly even try to have him become her heir because of how similar they are...

This is exactly that. Like She loves them all, but even from the first time she met the turtles (not realizing they were hers,) Leo had her attention b/c, at first, she couldn't figure out what type of person he was. The others she had all figured out within seconds, but Leo, he's out the door before she realizes that he's the clever one.

Plus, once it's all been found out, he's the one that takes the longest to trust her. Mikey was immediate, Raph pretty darn close to that, Donnie tried to be skeptical but his own curiosity (and a lot of compliments) ended up wearing him down quick. But Leo? He's been skeptical since day one, and continues to be for a while. It takes a lot of extra attention to get him to trust her (which hurts a bit since, as you said, he was her minime, her little helper during meetings and now he doesn't trust her enough to agree to a family dinner without Mikey threatening to drag him there.)

So yeah, he would end up getting a little more attention then the others (whether he wants it or not) if only to build trust. And she would definitely want him to be her successor to Battle nexus & hotel if he so chose to be. B/c he's clever and would certainly do a fantastic job running the place.

lol yes! she absolutely loves her genius purple son. Everything he builds is just so brilliant and she's so proud. Like pre-mutation, she would catch him taking apart his toys (which, for a 1 yo, is pretty brilliant work) and she'd praise him for it, incourage it even. B/c she could always get him new toys so if he was learning something from taking his toys appart, she wasn't going to stop him. And her getting him whatever he wanted/needed for his projects is fantastic. (agree with the no uranium tho, lol.)

The three of them are very much adorable so no worries lol! : )

but yeah, she adores Raph and Mikey, and they very much adore her back. Mikey likes to bring her cookies (he says its a business deal for stories but it's not necessarily true. he just likes an excuse to bring her food.) and I imagine she would teach him little web tricks of the trade. She likes having both of them around (even if they're just chilling in her office while she's doing business) b/c they're both very sweet.

Mikey she didn't get to know very well before he was taken (he was 3 months) so getting to know him now is very nice. Raph is the oldest and she just loves seeing what a sweet young man her toddler had grown into.

Idk if that's a dynamic or not, but she very much just looks at these two boys and thinks they're the cutest, sweetest boys in existence and she is very glad they are hers.

Thank you!

[codename-mom]

In name of Spencer

Summary: Post-S08E12. Maeve has been killed and Spencer is at his lowest. Hotch wants to cheer up the youngest member of his team, but the task is not easy, even more when his superior search for explanation

Characters: David Rossi, Aaron Hotchner, Derek Morgan, JJ, Alex Blake + Erin Strauss

Contents: this text is part of no challenge. I just wanted to write something about how Hotch deals with Reid's pain.

TW: mention of what's happened during Zugzwang episode, and pain, grief, etc.

PS : English is not my mother language so they are necessarily mistakes. Sorry about that.

___

“Did you call me?” inquired Dave, on the threshold of the next office.

Aaron looked up from his screen immediately.

“Yes. Did you know that starfishes have eyes at the end of their arms?”

“What?” gasped the BAU co-founder, completely baffled by this strange question.

“Did you know or not?” insisted his cadet, nervously.

“Yes. I’ve already been to the aquarium.”

“Darn! It means he knows it too.”

Disappointed, the giant turned his attention back to his computer and wondered what new query he could put into his search engine. For his part, his opposite squinted, puzzled. When he had seen his supervisor's e-mail, he had expected to answer a few interrogations about a past or current investigation, not to be tested on his knowledge of marine biology.

“… What are you up to?” he asked logically.

“I’m trying to find a fact that Reid doesn’t know.”

“Good luck. Why?”

Hotch sighed and pushed away his keyboard. Empty-headed, he had no idea how to continue the quest he had been on for several days. But maybe his mentor could give him some inspiration.

“Because… After Haley's death, Spencer would regularly send me messages about all kinds of incredible things that, of course, I didn’t know, he confessed, dodging his interlocutor's gaze. He did it not to show off, but to divert my attention.”

“And you'd like to return the favor by diverting his.”

“Beth thinks it might be a good idea.”

“And I agree with her.”

It had now been just over a week since the tragedy, and Aaron's youngest subordinate was bearing the full brunt of the consequences. Holed up at home, he didn't answer calls or messages sent to him, just as he ignored people knocking on his door. Guided by his instinct, the agency manager knew he was still alive, but imagined him curled up in an armchair, staring into space, or dragging his feet limply from one room to another, tears rolling down his unshaven cheeks. He himself didn't expect any response from him to this potential anecdote, content with the simple fact that it may have eased the young man's pain for a time.

“The thing is that I can't find anything that lives up to the fact that the northern lights are the sun's spittoons.”

“What?”

“That's it in a nutshell, but that's about it. He had written this message with a link to a very interesting video on the origin of the northern lights. We watched it together, Jack and I.”

He still remembered the moment of confusion that had seized him when he had read the SMS with this premise. Then, his curiosity piqued despite the vice that was crushing his insides at the time, he clicked on the link. And for a little less than a quarter of an hour, he had forgotten the pain that haunted him from morning to night, fascinated by this impromptu talk. He then showed it to his son, who couldn't miss a bit of it, his eyes wide at the discovery. Thirteen minutes and twenty-two seconds seemed like a drop in the ocean compared to a lifetime; but in this context, it had represented a point of light in the darkness that was devouring him. A star in the night that had relieved him. And there had been plenty more after that one, which, he was sure, had kept him from getting lost in the dark. If only he could do the same for Reid…

“And how many years do you think it will take you to find it?” ironized his guest, who would certainly never have embarked on such an ambitious project.

“I can’t say. For now, I’m searching and asking people if they know.”

“And?”

“And then, not only do I not find it, but I look like an idiot.”

The novelist burst into laughter. Aaron frowned.

“It’s not funny, Dave, he scolded, annoyed. This kid is at the bottom of the abyss, and I've got nothing to help him get back up.”

Rossi raised his hands to temper his anger and, still smiling, came to sit on the chair opposite him.

“Have you thought about what he doesn't know?”

“He knows everything.”

That’s where the issue was. The young agent had several doctorates in his pocket, plus everything he'd read since he'd learned to do it. For a thirty-year-old with a passion for reading and for discovering new things, this meant that he had a wealth of wisdom that was hard to fault.

“Everyone has an Achilles heel, even him.”

“I only know one, but I’m pretty sure that it’s not the right time to talk about it.”

Formidably intelligent but completely inept in terms of social relations, Reid's love life could be compared to a very long desert crossing. In fact, his knowledge of hanks was limited to theoretical principles and all the possible deviations he had picked up in his criminology lessons. The boy was a blank page in this field who had come very close to be covered by his first story.

“… What about cooking? Bounced Dave. He doesn’t strike me as a cookery specialist.”

“True. But he’ll know that it’ll come from you. I’m not a cook myself.”

Far from it. Besides, the longer he stayed away from stoves and knives, the better it was for those around him. Unlike Rossi, who was a born chef and whose dishes delighted the agents' taste buds.

“Does it really matter where the tips comes from? After all, you don't seem to be a starfish specialist either.”

The BAU’s eldest scored a point. Spencer had surely told him things he'd learned on his own during his young life, instead of, like him, seeking information on subjects that were ultimately of little interest to him. Which didn’t do his business any favors.

“… I’ll ask the others, he announced after a sigh. They must know more than I do about what he's not good at.”

Although often on the road with his team, his subordinates were nevertheless closer to each other than he was to them. And they had all more or less taken the youngest of the gang under their wing, helping him gradually to emerge from his cocoon. Leaving his chair, Aaron made his way to the bull-pen area where Morgan, JJ and Blake were chatting over a cup of coffee. They stiffened as he lunged in their direction, but relaxed when he explained what he expected of them. The trio immediately began to think.

“Surprisingly, he's lacking in popular cinema, declared the ex-liaison officer. Or in literature for teenagers.”

“Why?” her superior raised an eyebrow, not seeing what she was referring to.

“He doesn’t know who Edward Cullen is.”

It took Hotch a few seconds to put his finger on the vaguely familiar name. The image of a sallow, unkempt teenager popped into his mind, along with all the criticisms he'd heard about the cinematic work that concerned him.

“I'd like to say it's not a big loss, he commented, raising his eyebrows, but it's mostly that he's not going to be interested in it at all. The idea is to bait him into doing further research and get him thinking about something else.”

“Sure, it's not a good idea to burden his mind with a vampire who looks like a disco ball,” agreed Derek, half-seriously.

Putting aside all thoughts of novels for young readers and their big-screen adaptations, the group fell into silence. It had to be said that the task was an arduous one, but everyone was motivated to help their colleague out of his slump.

“There's also video games, which I'm obviously better at than he is,” Dave remarked with a certain pride.

Despite his attraction to popular culture, particularly in terms of films and TV shows, Reid stayed far away from anything that resembled modern technology: computers, cell phones and games consoles. In contrast, the eldest of the BAU enjoyed his free time with controller in hand, challenging anyone who wanted to try his luck. Jack, the unit's oldest child, had already had the opportunity to confront him on several occasions, with varying degrees of success.

“I don't want to underline his ignorance either. We have to cheer him up, not shoot him in his back.”

“But we could encourage him to join an online game, with Emily for example,” suggested JJ, who had kept in touch with the current head of Interpol's London agency via Internet Scrabble games during her French run from Doyle.

“Hotchner!” suddenly exclaimed a voice from behind.

He didn't even flinch, but he didn't turn around either. Instead, he remained in position and continued:

“She’ll ask him questions and he’ll be embarrassed to answer them. She should be briefed beforehand.”

“Agent Hotchner! Are you deaf?”

Furious, Erin, who had just emerged from the elevator, circled around his imposing frame to plant herself right under his nose, forcing him to stop ignoring her.

“Chief Strauss, I didn't hear you come in,” said Aaron, in an even tone.

“Don’t push your luck, she scolded, wrinkling her eyelids. In my office.

“With all my due respect, I’ve got work to do.”

“Me too, she snapped, snarling. In. My. Office.”

Without waiting for an answer from him, she went back the way she came and frantically pressed the call button. Hotch, who suspected the reason for her anger but had no desire to discuss it, took a deep breath and followed in her footsteps, not without slipping a final instruction to his men:

“… Keep thinking.”

Without exchanging a single word, the two managers made their way upstairs to a large, dark-tinted office. Strauss took her seat and indicated the chair opposite her with a wave of her hand. Aaron settled down slowly, raised his head and, in the most innocent tone possible, said:

“Is there a problem?”

“Yes, you could say that, squeaked the section chief, her clear eyes focused on him. Why did you grant Agent Reid unlimited leave?”

“Dr. Reid.”

“I beg your pardon?” she retorted, caught off guard by this outburst.

“Spencer Reid has five doctorates.”

“He’s an FBI employee.”

“He prefers to be called that way.”

The woman in her fifties gave him a disillusioned look. The two agents hated each other cordially and did everything in their power to make each other's lives miserable at most. Hotch, who had less power than his interlocutor, played the groping more than necessary simply to destabilize her. He wasn't unaware of how important these diplomas were to Spencer, but as it stood, they weren't the reason for this summit call. Erin pouted, supporting the fixed irises of her unruly staff member, then sighed:

“Fine. Why this unlimited leave?”

“Because I’m more generous than you are.”

“What?” she reacted, outraged by this ill-timed attack.

“He has just lost someone very dear to him. His girlfriend, to be more precise.”

Strauss widened her eyelids in surprise, then frowned. Her thoughts became confused for a few moments. Should she put him in his place for his unfair reflection on the number of days off she'd given him after his ex-wife's death? She had followed protocol and offered him early retirement so that he could devote his full attention to his son. But he refused her offer and returned to his post once the time had elapsed, without making any further demands. For her, this meant that he hadn't needed much more to assimilate what had happened and reorganize his new life. And, on the other hand, this story of a girlfriend for the BAU’s youngest agent intrigued her.

“When?”

“Saturday.”

“What’s happened?”

“I don’t know the details.”

“Really?” she doubted, trying to break through the stoic mask the director was presenting to her.

“I respect my men’s private life.”

Hotch saw his superior’s jaws tighten. She didn't believe for a moment what he’d said but knew that raising her voice would lead to nothing but even higher barriers between him and her. If she wanted to get at the truth, she was going to have to play it smart.

“Good. Then explain to me why your technical analyst's computers were activated on Saturday, as were your business phones and car GPS units.”

“… Another team may have used them,” suggested Aaron after a minute’s thought.

“I received an invoice from the SWAT to your name.”

“I’ve lost my apartment keys.”

A wave of fury overwhelmed the tenant's good intentions.

“Hotch! Don’t take me for an idiot! What have you been up to again?”

“Why?” he asked coldly.

“What do you mean by ‘why?’? I end up with a weekend crew using FBI equipment and an agent on leave until 2099. I demand an explanation!”

“I couldn’t go any further.”

“What...? She hiccupped before understanding what he had meant. Aaron, pissing me off won't make this conversation any more pleasant. What did you do?”

“What are you planning to do?”

Determined not to give up any information until he was certain that nothing would happen to his team, the giant walled himself up in the smoothest possible attitude, leaving his adversary of the day nothing to hang on to. Strauss knew this behavior all too well, and it irritated her to no end. Blowing out a breath to soothe her irritation, she changed her tune.

“… Look, I understand that you're trying to protect your men, but the Committee is demanding explanations, and at this time I can't give them any.”

“I can talk to them.”

“It doesn’t work that way.”

“It won’t be a first.”

“Yes, and they don't have very fond memories of your unit.”

In order to justify the outrageous expenses incurred by the BAU in faking the disappearance of one of their own in the eyes of an international terrorist, Hotch and his crew had to appear before the top brass of the Bureau. Fiercely arguing to defend their every move, none of them had shown an ounce of remorse or commiseration in front of this jury of the first rank. On the contrary, they stuck to their guns as if they'd been in the right from start to finish. This arrogance displeased management, who decided to take a harder line and keep a close eye on their movements.

“Don't you understand that if I don't have anything in my hands, I can't defend them and you with them?”

“I didn’t know you were concerned about us.”

“Aaron, I know appearances are against me, but I'm not your enemy. I need to know.”

She couldn't have been more right, her subordinate thought. When Gideon and Rossi had left him in charge of the unit, he had immediately gone up to the section chief to present his vision of things. And he had literally seen her change color when he had explained the scope of the project. FBI headquarters had authorized the BAU to expand following its good results, but not to the extent he had imagined. Going from two agents to six – including a technical analyst demanding expensive computer equipment – and a private jet, had given Strauss cold sweats. However, unable at the time to counter the young director's rock-solid argument, she had capitulated. Which she now regretted more than ever, given the financial sinkhole this agency had become some days. And Hotch couldn't count the number of times she'd pointed out Spencer's ineptitude, Jason's and then Dave's great age, Derek and Emily's impulsiveness, or the fact that he could handle JJ's duties just fine.

So, no, he didn't believe her when she said she was on his side. Worse still, he knew full well that he and his men had acted totally out of line, and had made countless mistakes, right up to the tragic end. In fact, confessing to her was a bit like pushing the whole team off a cliff. However, he wasn’t fooled. This insistent request didn't come from her directly, but from her superiors, who were still reeling from their defeat in the Doyle affair. And as long as they didn't get an answer to this new and costly mystery, they'd keep her on a short leash and, by extension, she'd never stop pestering him. A burden he didn’t feel like carrying around.

“… Okay. On one condition.”

“Which one?”

“I want to be held solely accountable.”

“Why am I not surprised? She sighed, shaking her head in disappointment. Go on.”

She understood that he wouldn't incriminate any of his men but gave in because she would at least know what had happened.

“Reid called me late Saturday afternoon, Hotch began. He urgently needed to see me. He was under a lot of stress and had trouble speaking. I tried to find out what was going on and postpone our interview until Monday, but he then confessed that his girlfriend had disappeared.”

“I didn’t know he was dating someone.”

“Welcome to the club, he tossed out evenly. It was very recent, even though they had been communicating for just over three months.”

Strauss frowned, unsettled.

“’They had been communicating’? What that supposed to mean? They’ve never met?”

The section chief’s surprise was justified. He himself had thought he had misheard when Blake had revealed the strangeness of this relationship. However, while he had initially blamed this modus operandi on Reid's sociability difficulties, the reality was quite different.

“No. For a good reason. This woman was a victim of a stalker. A female stalker,” he added immediately.

“It exists?”

“It’s uncommon, but yes. These women often suffer from erotomania or are simply jealous. Maliciously jealous, emphasized the profiler in order to make her hear how dangerous this woman was. In our case, it’s the second option. Reid's girlfriend, Maeve, was a rather gifted geneticist. Her stalker had sent her a thesis, which she rejected on purely scientific grounds. But for this woman, it was the trigger that made Maeve's life a living hell.”

Aaron was pouring out this flood of information without taking the time to breathe, and his interlocutor had to stop him to clarify a point.

“Wait, did you discover all this during your investigation or did Dr. Reid tell you?”

“No, we found out on Saturday when we were doing our research.”

“This type of investigation does not fall within your jurisdiction, so why didn't you entrust it to local authorities?”

“Reid asked for our help.”

“So what? You know the laws better than anyone, Hotch. You knew you were doing it illegally.”

A former federal prosecutor, the director of the BAU continued to keep abreast of developments in American law whenever his overloaded schedule allowed him a little free time. In fact, he was well aware that the case he and his team had been following over the weekend did not fall within their remit. Diane Turner, though unbalanced, had not killed anyone before that day, and the police, who were unaware of the scientist's disappearance, had not asked for their help in solving the harassment that had degenerated. They had knowingly encroached on a territory that was not theirs, in defiance of all the laws that existed and that governed the tasks of both parties in normal times.

“Yes, but Reid would never have trusted anyone but us, and we couldn't have found Maeve without him.”

“Did he help you with the investigation? Realized Erin, flabbergasted. Despite his proximity to the victim? You know how quickly this can turn into a procedural error.”

“Yes. But we had no other option. Maeve was on the run, in hiding; she had become a ghost to escape her stalker. The only one who knew her and could therefore give us clues as to how to find her was him.”

“That’s why you conducted this operation undercover. To hide the fact that you've been working hand-in-hand with someone far too emotionally involved. Am I right?”

“Yes.”

The director gave him a look that spoke volumes about what she thought of this way of doing things. But he did not flinch. He didn't turn his head away or blink, proving that he was fully aware of his choices. A long stream of air escaped his superior's nostrils and she continued, as calmly as possible.

“What happened?”

“We discovered that the stalker was nothing less than the new girlfriend of Maeve's ex-fiancé. She broke off their engagement to steal her lover. To get what she had, he added, trying to get her to understand the young woman's psychology as best he could. Except she found out about Reid and Maeve. She then realized that the ex-fiancé was no longer of any use to her.”

“Did she kill him?”

The section leader may not have been a profiler, let alone a field agent, but that didn't stop her from knowing how to add two and two together. With the few crumbs her employee had deigned to throw her, she had been able to make the necessary deductions, and denying the truth would have been quite pointless.

“Unfortunately, agreed Hotch. Maeve was next on the list, but Reid suggested an exchange. Him in place of her. His plan was to present himself to the stalker and make her believe that it was she he loved after all, rather than Maeve.”

“For what purpose?” asked Strauss, eyebrows furrowed.

“Give her what she wanted: the recognition of an intelligent being. A very intelligent being.”

It may seem a trivial detail at first, but the crux of the problem lay in this aspect of the personalities of the protagonists of this sad story. All Diane had asked for was for a great mind – by her own standards – to endorse her and prove that she was not just another grain of sand in the universe. Unable to be content with her simple condition as one human among billions, she had made this quest her obsession, not hesitating for a moment to eliminate anyone in her path.

“Did she accept?”

“To meet him, yes. Alone, without gun and bulletproof vest. “

“You didn't let him?" she said, suddenly concerned.

“I did.”

“But…”

“I know it sounds absurd, but unarmed and unprotected, you seem much less aggressive, which can create a much calmer climate for dialogue.”

It was a dangerous maneuver, one that could turn into a sudden execution at the slightest change of tone or ill-chosen word, and one that only skilled negotiators were expected to carry out; however, circumstances had meant that Spencer had been the one and only potential candidate for the task. And, at this hour, knowing the outcome of this face-to-face encounter, he remained convinced that if Dave, he, or any other member of the BAU had come forward, things would not have gone any better; indeed, the death toll would have been even higher.

“And where were you?”

“Outside. With the rest of the team.”

“You left that kid alone, facing a hysterical, armed woman?”

“This plan could work; I had faith in him.”

Erin couldn’t believe it. From the outset, she had resented the presence of this tall, gangly teenager, who could barely hold a revolver and ran out of steam after only a few yards, in this unit that hunted down the dregs of humanity. In fact, she was quick to remind the man who had welcomed him that she had only agreed to validate his hiring because he should have been sitting behind his desk. And now she discovered that he had been thrown into the lion's den without even the means to defend himself. The absurdity of the situation immediately gave her a headache.

“What went wrong?”

“I don’t know, I wasn’t there, admitted Hotch. We heard a gunshot and went in.”

“Had she killed Maeve?”

“No. She had shot Reid in the arm.”

Better and better, Strauss thought, repressing her urge to scream.

“Please tell me you've put her out of action.”

“No. Reid still felt he could negotiate with her. His life for Maeve’s…”

The giant fell silent as images of the scene flooded back from his memory. Like his colleagues, he replayed that evening over and over again, trying to find the moment when everything had changed. Trying to understand where the mistake had been made, so that it would never be repeated.

“But things didn't turn out as planned, did they?”

“No, he admitted, lowering his nose. Understanding how important Maeve was to Reid – unlike her – she killed two birds with one stone.”

A shiver ran down the section chief’s spine.

“… Meaning?”

“She held Maeve close to her. She aligned her head with Maeve's and pulled the trigger.”

What her imagination drew in her mind immediately made her nauseous. Within seconds, she felt as if all her blood had drained from her extremities. Although more often seated in a chair than pounding the countryside, like the man in front of her, the director knew the terrible damage a firearm could do to a human skull. Witnessing this horrific spectacle live left an indelible mark.

“… D… Dr. Reid was there?”

“Yes. We were all there.”

“And… none of you…?”

“We didn't have time to react, confessed the unit manager, not very proud of this error of judgement. We knew she had suicidal thoughts and was in danger of ending her life before our very eyes, but we didn't anticipate that she would take her target with her.”

He didn't know what it was like for his agents, but he'd clearly underestimated the extent of her neurosis. He hadn't imagined that her anger and hatred would be so great that they would combine at the last minute with her self-destructive impulses. But the mistake he'd made was surely to have let Spencer lead the conversation from start to finish, when he wouldn't have been sure himself – with the hindsight he had at the moment – of preventing her from pulling the trigger. He might have been able to save Maeve, but Diane’s frustration was far too deep-rooted in her veins for her to have listened to reason. And he was an experienced negotiator, unlike the young man who was just starting out in this field.

“… So, to sum up, Strauss resumed, fighting back her desire to raise her voice, three people died while you were unofficially investigating the whereabouts of one of them, involving an agent who was somehow intimately involved with her.”

Hotch nodded without opening his mouth. The section chief hoped this meant he realized the breaches of protocol this whole affair concealed, as well as their consequences. But to be absolutely sure she decided to emphasize the irresponsibility he'd shown over the weekend.

“Do you get that these three deceased people could have been members of your own team? You knowingly put them in danger to find someone Dr. Reid had never even seen! You're a branch manager, you're responsible for the lives of each and every one of your agents; you're not supposed to push them off the rails!”

“They volunteered,” said the profiler calmly.

“What?”

“Once Spencer had finished explaining the problem, I told them we'd have to work under the radar. I gave them the choice of leaving or staying, he explained, before adding: They chose to stay with full knowledge of the facts.”

“Of course, they stayed. You’re as close as the fingers on a hand. Your suggestion was purely rhetorical.”

Although she wasn't around the BAU agents very often, she had studied many of their mission reports and had read a lot of the information between the lines about their group dynamics. With their disparate temperaments, they were nonetheless ready to do anything to protect their peers or come to their aid if need be. A relationship that is more friendly than professional, which management could have welcomed if their actions had not flouted the established rules. She could easily imagine that they hadn't hesitated for a moment to follow their superior's plan, without even considering the possible repercussions on their careers. And she was convinced that Hotch knew it, even before offering them a way out.

“So what? What are you going to do? Cancel Reid’s leave? He doesn't even come out of his home,” he revealed, disguising his concern as best he could.

“I want a report,” she spat in an unapologetic tone.

“No. No way.”

Erin wasn’t surprised by this rebuff. She had even expected it, as well as the battle ahead. The director of the Behavioral Analysis Unit may have adopted an icy demeanor on a daily basis, but he protected the men and women who worked under him with an almost maternal ferocity. His superior had lost count of the number of times she had argued with him for long minutes – or even longer – without succeeding in obtaining the name of the culprit(s) in his team. Failing that, she'd had to fall back on him, except that he didn't seem to mind in the least. But this time, she was determined to win this face-to-face encounter, even more so now that she knew the details of this sordid story.

“Hotch, I want a mission report about this case.”

“If I do this, the others will have to do one too and everyone will pay for it.”

In fact, according to established protocol, each agent quoted in his brief was required to write his or her own version of the facts, so that all aspects of the case would be known to the higher-ups. As a result, if the file showed that mistakes had been made, the competent authorities only had to bend down to pick out the names of the culprits and punish them as they saw fit.

“You don’t have to put any names.”

“Please, no one up there will believe that I conducted this investigation alone or with complete strangers. And even less that I've managed to analyze data here, while being elsewhere.”

He had a point, but she hadn't said her last word.

“The Committee won't let me go until they really know what happened.”

“I refuse to sacrifice my team because they wanted to save someone in defiance of a sacrosanct protocol established by bureaucrats.”

“Aaron, you can't use FBI equipment for personal purposes!”

“That woman was in danger!”

Silence fell over the office following these sudden outbursts, and the two fighters stared at each other for a long moment, concentrating to keep from blinking. Strauss sighed.

“Hotch, like it or not, I need something official, in writing, to present to the Committee. Something that could justify turning on your analyst's computers, moving your vehicles, using your phones, and giving Dr. Reid unlimited time off. Without the bait, you know exactly who the piranhas are going to pounce on.”

Indeed, he could see perfectly well who was going to suffer the brunt of this backlash. That said, he knew that the result would be more or less the same whether he wrote something or not. Right now, the Bureau's top brass didn't know who was responsible for all this unauthorized activity, so their wrath could fall on anyone. However, being no fools, they would logically turn their attention to the usual owners of said equipment, summoning the unit manager as a matter of priority to get to the bottom of the whole affair. And if he gave them his report, even if he omitted the identity of those present, the brass would come down on him and demand clarification. He wouldn't supply them, of course, but this first step forward, a sign of goodwill on his part, would perhaps mitigate their desire to remove him from office.

“… How soon do you need it?”

“First thing in the morning.”

“My report is likely to be very concise.”

“Do your best.”

Without another word, she indicated the exit with her chin. Accustomed to this stinginess in politeness, he got up and headed for the closed door.

“Aaron,” she called out as he put his hand on the handle.

Without saying a word, he slowly turned around, wondering what else she wanted from him.

“How is he doing?”

Hotch frowned, unsettled. His superior rarely worried about his flock, even though she knew how difficult their mission was and what they had been through. For all he knew, she'd done nothing for JJ when she'd nearly been eaten alive by rabid dogs, nor for Derek when he'd come within a hair's breadth of exploding in a New York ambulance, nor for Penelope after she'd been shot in the chest. Why she was asking him? What did she really wanted to know? Impossible to determine as it stands, he concluded in his mind. He didn't have enough information to answer these questions and didn't intend to linger in the office any longer. What's more, even if the probability was low, it was possible that the section chief might actually be on their side this time, smoothing things over with the bigwigs at FBI headquarters. And so, he decided to play fair.

“Like a teenager who's lost the love of his life.”

___

Not my best work imo, but I like some lines here and there. :)

Hope you'll like it better.