#well. if they did. we don’t share stairwells so it’s not like I’d have to look him in the eye anyway

[barebevil]

I love when it’s Friday cus I don’t feel so bad about firing up my hairdryer at 11:09pm right next to a wall I share with a neighbor — through which I can sometimes hear that very neighbor snore

[apex-academy]

Chapter 6: The Decay of Our Lives (#10)

I keep myself distracted long enough for a decently portioned lunch, then head back up the stairs. 

“.......”

I leave the stairwell a floor early. No point rushing up and down more than I have to, and I do need to look up what a kuroko is. Don’t remember seeing dictionaries in the library, but there’s no reason it wouldn’t have any.

“They’d probably make good blunt instruments for Monochap’s purposes.”

Not that the murder up here needed any blunt instruments.

Let’s not think about that. Straight to the bookshelves.

With that mantra, I charge in, barely even registering the reading tables. Just enough to not knock into one. 

“Dictionaries...”

I should probably know what general area they’d be in, but I never did memorize the standard sorting system. I scan the spines at eye level to get a feel instead—computer science here, looks like—then stop.

“.........”

I turn around.

Mahavir waves tentatively from where he stands by another shelf.

“...”

I can’t figure out whether to ask him what he’s doing here or just be glad he’s well enough to leave his room.

“Hi?” Sure, that’s a middle ground.

“Hello.”

“...”

“...”

“I was, er... seeing if anything caught my eye.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Okay...”

“You were looking for a dictionary?”

“How—”

“Oh. Right.” The whole “talking to myself when I think no one else is around” thing. Which is somehow the least concerning of my mental health things.

“I believe they were on a higher shelf...”

“...but I’m afraid that’s all I remember.”

“We both love our high shelves, I’m sure.”

“Ahah.”

I keep my chin tilted up as I browse the titles. Why is the text so small on half of these? Do they want you to grab things blindly just hoping for the best?

“So you’re feeling better, Mahavir?”

“A bit.”

“Of course, with the... semiquarantine?—precautions, I’ve no business being out and about for more than a few minutes. But that much seems worth trying, I believe.”

“Perhaps I can take something back to read after all. Do you have any suggestions?”

“Here? Hmm...”

For him, I guess something military? Not a genre I’ve felt like reading lately. Linguistics? Can’t say I have much interest in that, either.

I’m really friends with a guy I share no common interests with, huh. Funny how that happens.

Either way, I’m sure he doesn’t mind me taking a minute to think, so I continue browsing the high shelves. Books on law, education... Ironic.

Just as I cross to a few books on language, a screech and thud jolt me.

“Ma—”

I glimpse the soles of his shoes beneath the nearest desk before my attention switches to the person now entering.

“My, my. I thought I’d sensed a sinner nearby.”

I casually approach the chair that was thrown hastily out of Mahavir’s way and lean onto it.

“Tsunyasha. Wouldn’t expect you in the library.”

“Ah, because there’s nothing I’ve need to learn?”

Sure, that’s it.

“But surely you didn’t think you could hide from me here?”

I keep my gaze up, but I can practically feel Mahavir freezing under the desk. At least I can rest easy knowing he must have gone down intentionally, but it’s not enough to keep my palms from sweating. Feels like I’m the only wall fending off an incoming tsunami from an unprepared town. Not sure which of those is who here, either.

“Oh, I would never be so...” What’s a good Tsunyasha-style word for this one?

“...Not feeling up to phrasing it right now. Were you looking for me in particular?”

“Hardly. What reason could I possibly have to fixate upon a single worm?”

I’m sure there are plenty, but most of them involve divine punishment, and I’d rather not bring that up. I seem to be maintaining her attention, though. Not sure Mahavir’s ever getting a chance to sneak past her—he doesn’t have a sneaky bone in his body, anyway—but keeping her distracted can’t hurt.

“Hoping for multiple worms, then?”

“That would be even more senseless.”

“Perhaps a proper demon to battle could be engaging...”

I can just feel Mahavir tensing up further. I bite my tongue before I can hiss that she doesn’t mean him. Not like I can be certain about that, anyway.

“...but it’s not as if I can’t abide a bit of fallow time, hmm?”

“Quite a bit of that lately, isn’t it?”

She sighs dramatically. “I can’t imagine how difficult it must be for you mortals, to feel your short, short years slipping through your fingers.”

“But I fail to pity sinners.”

“Still no interest in helping us get out of here, then?”

“Perhaps as a passing fancy, but no more.”

“Is a passing fancy enough to want to help me deduce who the young master is?”

“I’d only want you to answer a question.” Not gonna ask for any more than that from her. Even getting an answer is a tall order, really.

“I suppose I can at least hear the request. Go on, whelp.”

“Do you know anything about kurokos?”

I watch her face as carefully as I can, but aside from a blink, I don’t pick up the slightest tell. Was she taken aback for a second, or just succumbing to the normal human need to keep her eyes from drying out? We’ll never know.

“One of those pranceabout little roles you mortals are fond of, yes?”

“I can’t say I care to know more than that.”

“So... a stage thing?”

“Yes, I suppose.”

“Pathetic as all your other ways of entertaining yourselves, but nothing beyond my expectations.”

“I see. Thanks.” 

Actual information from Tsunyasha? Who’d’ve thunk. Guess it’s a little easier when I’m not asking her about herself. Unless, of course, I am... But I’m trying not to jump to conclusions with that.

She nods. “I believe I’ll excuse you now.”

“From the conversation or the room?”

“Oh, I suppose you can stay in your feeble room of papers for now.”

“As much of a waste of your few moments on this earth it may be.”

With that, she spins silently on her heel and strides away, scarf-thing trailing in her wake. I stay poised, nails digging into the chair back, and let out a long breath. She doesn’t come back. Still, I check the hall before returning to the table and tugging the chair back out of the way.

“She’s gone.”

For a second I wonder if Mahavir’s fallen asleep under there, but then he groans and starts to shuffle backward. The carpet muffles his movements and voice both.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

He crawls back a little further and stops.

“You, uh, need a hand?”

“If you could...”

Making a mental note to wash my hands thoroughly after this, I do my best to wrangle him back to a standing position. I’m sure his appetite hasn’t been great lately, but if he’s lost any weight, I sure can’t tell.

“Thank you... again.”

“Don’t mention it, again.”

I check the hall one more time before backtracking to the shelves. Don’t get much browsing done before my attention strays back to Mahavir. He stands in the same place, staring blankly at the open doorway.

“I know you’re not leaving your room much right now...”

“...but you’ll have to talk to her eventually, you know.”

“............”

“I’ll push it as far into the future as I can, but you have to prepare yourself. Won’t help anyone if you panic and...”

“...”

“...pass out, most likely.”

“Er...”

“Of course.”

He takes a deep breath.

“But what on earth could I possibly do?”

“...”

“You can always try apologizing. I know you’d mean it.”

“..............”

“Odds 10-to-1 she’ll maintain she has no idea what happened and consider it some kind of general sinner-type thing.”

“You’ve a point, I suppose.”

“But still, I...”

“..........”

“.......”

We’ve already gone through this can of worms—no sense trying to pry the lid off all over again. Especially not out here in the relative open.

“Something to think about. But like I said, I’ll try to stave it off—don’t worry too hard just yet.”

“For now, we should get back to your room. You’re not looking too steady.”

“.......”

He musters up the energy to sigh and nod. I scout things out ahead and manage to guide him back to the dorm without any collisions.

“Get some rest, okay?”

“Yes...”

Nothing left to say as he heads inside for another round of isolation.

“.......”

Well, that’s another fire put out for now. Maybe I can take a breather before I jump back into my young master investigations.

I made progress, anyway, right? No confirmation that Tsunyasha’s our kuroko, but she at least knows what it is.

Or would she have denied even that much, if she was trying to keep her talent a secret? Maybe if I can just find some way into her study hall...

”......”

But like I said. Breather first.

[BACK] [NEXT]

[hyperfixated-gvf]

Like a Good Neighbor

On the sixth day of Tropemas, hyperfixated-gvf gave to me:

A fluffy, smutty Neighbors AU with Danny.

Christmas Song Pairing: “Last Christmas” by Wham!

~~~

Pairing: Danny Wagner x Reader

Warnings: Language, smut, dirty talk, please don’t let strangers into your apartment

Words: 7.6k

Your new neighbor was hot.

Like, ‘oh no, my panties fell off, take me now’ kind of hot. The kind of hot that they put shirtless on the covers of paperback romance novels – a true Fabio.

So, of course, you made every effort to avoid him.

It wasn’t all too hard, which, considering that you were neighbors, said something about either your schedule or his schedule – or both – and that maybe the universe was looking out for you for once. In the month or so that you’d seen him around, you’d only exchanged passing greetings and small smiles a couple of times, never having to walk the stairs together or find out you share a similar schedule.

Which was why you said ‘fuck you, universe’ when you were carrying a few bags of groceries up the stairs, bobbling a pack of toilet paper of all things and struggling to see over your own purchases when a pair of rather large hands took the toilet paper off of its precarious spot between your elbow and chest.

Because there he was, Model-Boy, holding your toilet paper with a sweet smile on his face. “Hi, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to intrude, but you looked like you could use some help.”

You wanted to say fuck you to this gorgeous man, you really did, because the last thing you wanted in your life right now was some hot, sweet, boy-next-door (literally). But you directed your emotions toward the universe at the last second because if the word ‘fuck’ was going to come out of your mouth while in this man’s presence, it was going to be ‘fuck me, please’ and that was not the mark of an uncomplicated neighbor.

“Oh, uh, thanks, I guess,” was what lamely fell out instead. “I live in 22B, but I really don’t want to bother you. I can readjust,” you promised, starting to shift your bags.

“No, no,” the man rushed out before you could make space, and you stopped. “I don’t mind. I wouldn’t have offered if I really had to be somewhere.”

You blinked at him, hoping you wouldn’t break out in a full sweat, regardless of the cold temperatures that had descended that week. “Well, thanks again, then.” You started up the stairs again, making it to the landing and counting your steps along the broad hallway. You thought maybe you should say something, but you were nervous and he had your toilet paper in his arms.

“I – uh, I’ve seen you around a couple times. We’re neighbors, actually. I live in 23B,” he offered, tone easy-going and kind.

You feigned ignorance. “Yeah, we’ve passed each other a couple times. I sure remember a face like yours.” You flushed immediately, cursing yourself and the insinuation the phrase held. But it wasn’t as if this man didn’t know God had taken a little extra time on him.

He chuckled, and you hoped it wasn’t at your expense. “I’m glad I’m not too forgettable. I just moved in a few weeks ago and I’m gone more than I’m here, so I’m not surprised we haven’t really met. I’m Danny, by the way. Sorry, I should have introduced myself earlier.”

“Oh, no worries,” you said, catching sight of the gold number on your door and putting your bags down. “I’m Y/N. Thanks…for the third time for helping me out there. I think had I dropped that,” you said, nodding to the toilet paper, “down the stairwell, I might have thrown myself down with it.” Danny blinked and smiled hesitantly and you shut your eyes.

“That was just –”

“Did you have a bad –”

You spoke and stopped at the same time, both of you waiting for the other to continue, and you decided that you were done with human interaction after this.

“I was just joking,” you finished, finally, fingering your key in your pocket.

Danny nodded. “Yeah, I – I figured. If I thought you weren’t, I’d be a little more worried.”

Silence again.

“Well, it was nice meeting you officially, Danny. Happy Holidays,” you offered, knowing that you would not let yourself out again until they had passed.

He smiled, eyes roving your face, and you turned to avoid his gaze. “Yeah, definitely. Happy Holidays to you, too,” he repeated back, and then gave a small wave before ambling off toward the stairwell again.

You shoved your way into your apartment, dragging your bags and that damned toilet paper in after you and instantly threw yourself face-down on the couch.

“I used to be so good at flirting,” you bemoaned into the couch, to no one other than yourself.

Model-Man – or, Danny, you supposed – had to think you were some type of crazy, and he wouldn’t be wrong.

You dragged yourself off the couch once you got too hot in your coat and went about putting your groceries away. The audacity of life to not only have you need things, but to have to go buy things, and then have to put those things away was…audacious.

After the trainwreck of a conversation with Mr. Panty-Dropper – shit, Danny, you meant – you just wanted some comfort food and sad music.

Except what you really wanted to do was scream your repressed emotions out into a void, but there was no void and your repressed emotions were still repressed, so you had to make do with what you were given.

The record player you’d found at Goodwill didn’t have a whole lot of records to go with it, but you’d splurged on an album that contained some gloomy tunes you vibed with, so you lugged the thing out, plugged it in, and set the record on, letting the melancholy soothe the bite that had nothing to do with the weather outside.

You were no Scrooge, not usually. But heartbreak came in all shapes and sizes and popped up at the most inconvenient times.

It’d been a year since you’d been let down and disappointed big time by the dude who was supposed to be your rock. And you hated that it carried over in your mood as that sick sort of anniversary passed by. You tried to pay it no mind, which was the ultimate reason you had gone grocery shopping – you’d hoped that the menial task would help convince you that you were just fine living it up on your own – that you got full-fat, dairy ice cream and cheese because you didn’t have to take his lactose-intolerant ass into consideration.

But you still thought about it.

Still missed perhaps not him, but the human connection that you associated with him. Missed the intimacy and trust that at one point, you’d thought you could give without consequence.

And in all honesty, he hadn’t been all that great. In the few months it took you to process your emotions and actually become angry at him, you’d started a list of all the things you didn’t like about him: his thoughtlessness, his disregard of consequence, his lack of empathy, his obsession with the Revolutionary War, his pretentiousness when it came to draft beer when you preferred craft, and the fact that he thought everything could be fixed with Christmas songs.

You wanted him to explain his logic now that every Christmas song was tainted by him.

Your puttering around the kitchen didn’t last long, comfort food usually didn’t take much time to make, and you planted yourself on the couch once again, this time upright, and turned the TV on, letting yourself drift away into the sound, record player still playing, TV still on, food still in your lap.

The overwhelming noise coming from different directions actually helped. Distractions everywhere, discombobulated lyrics mixing with lines of dialogue creating a funny soundtrack, and it was dark out before you knew it.

The only reason you made your legs work again was to go retrieve that full-fat ice cream from the freezer, which is the exact moment you sent another ‘fuck you’ to the universe, because you couldn’t find it. Which meant you either forgot it at the store or it was hopefully staying cold enough in your car not to melt.

You didn’t want to take your chances, though, so you slipped some sandals on, knowing your feet would get cold, but uncaring as you’d be back underneath your blanket soon enough.

You’d just turned the lock when you made the decision to stop insulting the universe, because right as you started towards the stairwell, Danny the Model stepped off, eyes finding yours in the incandescent lighting and smiling.

Oh holy actual fuck.

Not a model. A fucking drummer. Which was somehow even hotter.

His coat was strung across his back, but the button up shirt beneath it was completely undone, catching on the drumsticks sticking out of his pockets and baring his torso to you, and you hoped the fast-closing distance and dim lighting enough to stop him from catching your eyes as they walked down his treasure trail.

“Hey, Danny, fancy seeing you, what, twice in a day, now?” you asked faintly as you got closer.

“Must be fate,” he joked.

You gestured to his drumsticks. “I didn’t know you were a drummer.” He smiled faintly, and you needed to look him up ASAP because that was not the face of some dive-bar, on-the-side musician.

“Yeah, I play in a band with my brothers. Well, best friends, but might as well be. We grew up together.”

“Oh, nice. I’ll have to look you up sometime.” You shivered, not having grabbed a covering. “Well, I need to go rescue my wayward ice cream that hopefully didn’t melt all over my car.”

He glanced at your state of dress. “Are you gonna want ice cream after being out in this weather dressed like that?”

You shrugged, beginning to shift past him. “Maybe, maybe not. I’m gonna eat it anyways. Have a good night, Danny,” you called to him as you got further away.

“You, too,” you heard him say, and you could feel his eyes on you all the way down the hallway, appreciative that you couldn’t actually see him looking at you.

You were thankful that the ice cream had fallen out of the bag in an upright position, and a squeeze of the container revealed soft, but perhaps not completely melted product, so you thought you might still be in luck. You might have sent a thank you up, but you weren’t sure the universe really wanted to talk to you right now, so you went about your way back into your apartment, teeth chattering and toes numb and thinking back to Danny’s comment about actually wanting the ice cream after you retrieved it.

You didn’t. Not particularly. But your spite had to be addressed in some way.

You were still staring at the soft ice cream, debating if you were spiting him or just yourself were you to eat it when a soft knock came from your door.

Your brows furrowed, and you immediately assumed that some creepy stalker had seen an underdressed young woman in a dark parking lot and had followed you back up to your apartment, so you picked your key up and held it like a shank, tiptoeing to the peephole and looking through it only to be assaulted with those damn brown puppy-eyes you weren’t supposed to see again until after you dragged yourself out of this anniversary funk.

But you still found yourself unlocking the door.

“Danny, what a surprise. What can I do for you?”

He brought a plate from behind his back, filled with cookies that must have been hot with the way they steamed in the temperature. “I just couldn’t bear the thought of having a neighbor not know how to properly enjoy dessert in the winter. So I was wondering,” he looked a little nervous, and you swallowed, trying not to let your own nerves enter the equation, “if maybe, you know, you’d help me enjoy these the right way.”

You laughed, but it sounded strung out and uncomfortable to you, and Danny flinched.

“I’m also a stranger, so I don’t want you to feel obligated or anything – you can have the cookies regardless, I mean, you don’t have to eat them with me…or at all. I didn’t poison them or anything – which, shit, makes it seem like I did, but I promise, I’m famous, I don’t want to hurt you because that would be rather bad for my band. And I know that sounds pretentious, but I – I’m making this a lot more painful than it should be. Please, just tell me if you want the cookies or not and I’ll…go.”

You laughed again, but this time in commiseration. “You know, for a supposedly famous rockstar drummer, that wasn’t very graceful.”

He shrugged sheepishly, shifting from foot to foot. “I guess I can’t always be that shirtless drummer from Greta Van Fleet; sometimes Danny Wagner, random, awkward dude from Michigan appears.”

You felt for him; you didn’t even realize that you’d had preconceived expectations for him until he felt like he had to explain himself.

You stepped to the side. “Well, Danny Wagner, come on in, then, I guess. If you murder me, my ghost will rain hellfire down on you for the rest of your life.”

He chuckled, looking around your apartment. “Duly noted.”

You had a moment of introspection, following his gaze around your walls and decorations, and wondered what he saw from a stranger’s perception. He noticed you studying him and his reactions.

“It’s nice. Very homey.”

You gave him a half smile. “Thanks. You can just put the cookies on the coffee table. Next to the, uh, well…more of a milkshake now than anything,” you said, grimacing at the melted ice cream. He did as you said and then stood up, head bobbing unconsciously to the tune that was still floating through the apartment.

“You know, and not that I’m judging you, but this is pretty dreary music to be playing this close to Christmas,” he commented, wandering over to where he had located the record player. “Not into Christmas music?”

You perched yourself on the arm of your couch, watching him inspect your other record choices. “I mean, I don’t hate it. I actually quite enjoy Christmas songs usually.”

“Just tired of it by now? It does get a little repetitive after a while, so I don’t blame you.”

The memory of your ex popped into your head, claiming in his nasally little voice that you could never listen to too much Christmas music. You pushed it from your mind, shaking your head. “I just haven’t been feeling it this year, I guess.”

Danny turned around, cocking his head and ruffling his hair, gazing at you with searching look that made you flee – well, in the sense that you turned around to put the lid back on the uneaten ice cream, leaving the room to return it to the freezer. “I guess that makes sense. Any particular reason?” he asked from the living room.

You were confused at his prodding – you didn’t know the guy, and you didn’t really want to dump all your unresolved feelings on him, but he kept asking all the questions that would lead to that point. You tried playing it off as a joke, walking back into the living room and fainting on the couch with a dramatic sigh.

“Oh, the joys of heartbreak, I suppose. Christmas songs reek of him,” you said in your best transatlantic accent.

You saw Danny peeked over the back of his couch, an offended expression marring his face. “What kind of monster ruins Christmas songs for their ex?”

You scoffed lightly, sitting up. “Mine, apparently. But it’s been a whole year – I’m not sure it’s his fault anymore.”

Danny leaned against the back of the couch. “Eh, not entirely. When else are Christmas songs supposed to play? This sounds pre-meditated to me. I hope I’m not prying, but how exactly did he ruin them for you?”

You shot him a strange look. Amused, but strange. “You’re one of those fix-it type people, aren’t you?”

He laughed – an abrupt, distinct sound that you found adorable.

Damn it.

“I’ve been known to be one, yes. A people pleaser, a fixer, the dad friend – I’ve been called it all.” He smiled at you again, and you wondered if he ever stopped smiling. It didn’t seem likely.

“Well, Mr. Fix-It, to answer your question, he thought the world’s problems, much more insignificantly mine, could be solved with Christmas music. So, every time I was sad or frustrated and every time we fought, he put Christmas music on. It wasn’t horrible when we were dating, but now it just…now it’s different, you know?”

You didn’t meet his eyes and tightened your lips. So much for not wanting to dump your emotions on this poor man.

He left the couch and crossed your field of vision, pulling on his shoes that he’d left by the door. You blinked at the suddenness of his seeming departure and quickly went back through your limited interaction. It hadn’t been that bad, had it? You thought you’d injected enough humor to diminish your emotion turmoil.

“Hold on, just a second. I will be right back, I promise, don’t even lock the door.”

Oh.

So he wasn’t leaving. Relief rushed through you and you honestly didn’t know whether it stemmed from you not being perceived as a crazy, emotionally-unstable woman or that he simply just wasn’t going away for the night.

He met your eyes with an excited glint in his and raised his brows in sincerity. “Right back, I promise.”

Then he was gone. You blew out a breath and scrubbed your face in your hands and let out a loud groan.

“Why, why, why, why, why,” you said into your hands.

You didn’t understand why you were so averse to the idea of this man, of men in general. It really had been a year – and it wasn’t as though the breakup or your ex in himself was still eating away at you or your psyche, it was the prospect of trust. Of vulnerability. Of commitment in the sense that required work and collaboration with someone else and their feelings and time and interest.

You were used to being on your own again, and this man was threatening your desire to be so.

The knob turned again and Danny stepped back into your apartment, this time carrying a few squares in his hand – records.

“My music taste not good enough for you, big music man?” you teased, tired.

He chuckled and sat down by you, his arms shifting to share the records with you. You accepted the covers he offered you, huffing out a laugh as you took in the titles.

“Nah, but these are some classics. You need a new view on Christmas music, and I’m just the man to help you – if you want it, that is.”

“Classics, huh?” you said, shuffling the Christmas albums that featured Mariah Carey, Elvis, Frank Sinatra, and a Jazz album that featured multiple different artists.

“So, can I?”

You looked up from the vinyl at Danny, whose gaze was settled intently on your face. “Can you help me…what? I told you, I don’t hate Christmas music, I promise.”

“I know. But I just want to kickstart your enjoyment of it again.” He smiled a little secret smile. “What do you say?”

You were hesitant. “But why? I mean, not to be cliché, but aren’t you a rockstar?”

He shrugged and looked away. “People like to pretend being famous is all that. And as much as I love my band and the people I work with…I just thought it’d be nice to have a friend close to home, too. Like I said, none of this something I’m asking you to do, I’m just…offering? You looked like you were having a bad day, today, and I thought it might be a good opportunity to reach out.”

You studied him, blush and twiddling fingers and tapping feet and tight shoulders. “It was. A good opportunity, I mean. A good time. I appreciate having you here, despite you being a…stranger.” You blew out a breath. “My parents would kill me if they knew I let a strange man into my apartment. But everyone starts out as strangers, right? And you said you wouldn’t kill me.”

Danny chuckled. “Cross my heart. Now,” he said, grabbing two cookies off the untouched plate and handing you one, “to new Christmas song memories.” He raised his cookie in a toast and you laughed, touching yours to his.

“To new Christmas song memories,” you repeated, taking a bite of your baked good. Danny finished his in two bites, then dusted off his hands, grabbing the Elvis album from your lap.

You laughed at him and his innocent mannerisms, and he blinked, looking at you with wide eyes and chipmunk cheeks, still chewing, and started to laugh with you, but it was hard with a full mouth. As his hand went to cover his lips just in case cookie crumbles fell out, he must have inhaled a crumb, because he started a coughing fit just a second later, which made you laugh harder.

But you took pity on the man and went to get him a glass of water.

“Thanks,” he rasped, still coughing. He took a long pull out of the glass and you tried not to watch the movement of his throat. “I’m not impolite usually, I promise, that cookie was just a lot bigger than anticipated. They came pre-portioned and I swear they were a lot smaller.”

“Sure,” you teased, “blame it on the cookie.”

“It was!”

You couldn’t help but shake your head at him. He continued over to your record player, and the music that had been flowing through the apartment stopped.

The temptation to go over and watch him pulled at you, but before you could get up, the sounds of Elvis started up and got louder, and Danny fixed you with those brown eyes and held out his hand. Your smile morphed into a confused look.

“What?” you asked, still staring at his offering.

“New memories. Let’s dance, neighbor.”

Your head tilted and you laughed. “I’m sorry, but when did I step into the world of Hallmark movies? Dancing to Christmas albums? To make new memories? That’s gotta be the most cliché –”

“None of that!” Danny interrupted. “Cliché is just another word for popular, and unless you don’t want to take the chance to experience something because it’s too popular, get over here and dance, dammit!”

His playful outburst shocked a wide-eyed expression onto your face, but you got up and stood, facing him, not wanting him to know that this was the most romantic thing that had ever happened to you, and he wasn’t even trying to make it romantic.

A self-satisfied grin settled onto his face. “Good. Now, please, madame, let’s dance,” he intoned, and put out his hand for you to take. You saw his smile falter and knew that he was nervous, but something in you was still resisting.

You knew what it was.

It would be so easy to fall for this man, and to have the prior knowledge that he was just looking for a friend made you feel…icky.

Like you only wanted him because you wanted him. But you didn’t; he seemed like a really nice, genuine guy, and you didn’t want to take advantage of that and catch real feelings for him.

You were so confused and conflicted because you were hypersensitive to your emotions and relationships right now. You’d told him he’d come at a good time, but you were starting to second guess that.

You took his hand, not wanting him to suffer, and he let out a small breath of relief, placing a polite hand on the curve of your waist and letting you hang on to his other hand with yours.

“I thought you were gonna leave me hanging there for a second. Then I’d have to take my cookies and go.”

“Not the cookies,” you moaned playfully, swaying in a rather discombobulated manner – you wondered if it was because of the nerves or if was just because neither of you were good dancers; you sure as hell weren’t.

He gasped. “Are you really using me for my cookies right now?” He guided you back over to the couch and grabbed two more cookies with the hand that had been on your waist. “Well then, let me make an offering,” he said, putting one of the cookies in his mouth and bringing the other between you, eyes dipping down to your lips.

Tension.

Even the slightest bit sent your heart beating fast, and you hoped his thumb didn’t dip down to the pulse point in your wrist else he’d feel it spike.

Oh, fuck him. He wanted friendship, but now he was sending mixed signals. He’d known you a very short time, and now he really just wanted to feed you a cookie? Not likely.

You watched his eyes and took a bite, not breaking the eye contact, and let the tension grow.

You had been so good at flirting, dammit, and you were out to prove you still were. If he wanted to play games, well, enter Player 2.

The cookie in his mouth was quickly escaping his hold, so he eventually broke and tilted his head back in an attempt to catch the cookie, ending with another mouthful just like the one he’d had when he choked.

You took your cookie from his hand and finished it in a couple bites, mirroring his puffed out cheeks.

The two of you had to look away from each other to keep from bursting out laughing and spraying half-chewed cookies over everything, and it gave you a respite from the lingering tension that had been broken with Danny’s cookie mouth.

All the sudden, “Blue Christmas” bounced around the room, and Danny’s eyes lit up, having finally swallowed.

He pulled you back into your dancing position and spun you around, bellowing and crooning the rolling ‘B’ syllable just like Elvis.

You laughed. “You’re pretty good at that,” you observed. “Just like Elvis.”

“Thank ya, thank ya very much,” he responded, in a less-convincing accent. But he didn’t stop singing and twirling you around, and you were content watching him have fun for the few minutes that the song played.

As the record trailed off and no song followed, he didn’t release you to flip it to the other side.

“Hey Danny?” you asked, emboldened by the way he was looking at you.

“Hmm?”

“Were you really looking only for a friend?”

He shrugged. “A friend, yes. But not in a specific capacity.”

You swallowed hard and leaned in. “So it would be perfectly neighborly for me to…” you trailed off as your lips brushed his, not quite pressing together.

“Perfectly neighborly,” he said, closing the gap and kissing you.

You were already positioned closely together, and all he had to do was slide his hand around your back to pull you all the way against him. He never let you pull away further than what was necessary to get air, always coming back in with a nip or a peck or just the whisper of a breath across your lips.

“Shit, I – just hold on,” he said, pulling away. You didn’t want to say that you missed his warmth in fear of sounding whipped for a stranger after the first kiss, but you watched him change out the record with no small amount of longing.

He hurried back after smooth, jazzy Christmas chords replaced Elvis’s voice.

“New memories, have to get as many artists in as possible,” he said with a smile, and you pulled him back in by his sweater, which you’d noticed he’d changed into when he showed up at your door.

“I think Christmas songs have a new meaning, now,” you said, “but you’re right – might as well be thorough.”

He kissed you again and this time, he didn’t stop, and neither did you. You were appreciative of his strong, broad stature, clinging onto him as you swayed unconsciously to the beat of the song, lips and tongues dancing to a beat of their own.

You weren’t sure how long you stood there, giving and taking with Danny in the middle of your living room before he moved you to the couch, long body unable to fit stretched out, so he hovered, course fingertips trailing heat wherever they touched.

Air felt like a second thought, but your gasps continued even after he gave your lips a break, working his way down your neck while you pressed your fingers into his hair and felt the muscles of his forearm from where it was bracing him.

“Is this okay, Y/N?” he said, voice deep and gravelly and hands creeping underneath your shirt.

You nodded. “Yeah, yeah, it’s okay.”

Danny met your eyes, dark and intense. “I don’t want you to think I’m…preying on your vulnerability or anything. We don’t have to do this today. I’ll take you out and we can have ice cream and you don’t ever have to sleep with me if you don’t want –”

“Danny, I want to sleep with you,” you said, a small smile appearing on your face and your doubt dwindling with his words. “But it’s not the only thing I want with you. So if you came here with the intent to fuck me once and ignore me for the remainder of our rent agreements, then no, I don’t want this. But if you’re telling the truth, if you’re offering something more, then this is my emphatic ‘fuck yes, please.’”

His thumbs had started rubbing circles into your stomach, and it made you squirm. He kissed you softly. “This is my emphatic ‘fuck yes I’m offering more.’” You hooked a foot around his thighs and tried to get him to come down to you, but he resisted. “I’m too big for this couch, I think, if it’s okay with you, we might want to move this to the bedroom.”

“God – Danny, you could fuck me on the floor for all I care, I just want you.”

And you did. Now that you’d been assured this wasn’t just a one and done, that if you let him have your body, he wouldn’t reject the trust that came with it.

He groaned and tugged your shirt up and off of you. “Yeah? You’d let me fuck you on the floor?”

You hummed, jokingly saying, “Mmhh. New memories, right? Have to be able to hear the music to make the association.”

Danny laughed and rolled off you, tugging you off the couch and then laid the thick blanket you’d been wrapped in on the floor.

Oh.

Oh.

He was actually gonna fuck you on the floor.

There was a mischievous glint in his eyes when he put his hands behind his head, no attempt to hide the half-mast in his pants.

“Memorable enough for you?”

You licked you lips, crawling to him (not in a sexy way…just, normally) and swinging a leg over his waist. He took one hand and ran it up your thigh, gripping your hip as you settled yourself on top of him. “We’ll see,” you quipped, rolling your hips into him.

An aborted, silent grunt slid from his throat in one exhale, and you swallowed a dart of nerves as you reached back to undo your bra, sliding it off and flushing at the way you felt him twitch against you.

“Fuck me, you’re gorgeous,” he breathed, hands climbing up your torso. He demonstrated a show of core strength and pushed himself up into a sitting position, sliding you back into the dip of his lap, and pulled his own sweater off.

You couldn’t have stopped your hands from smoothing across his stomach if you’d wanted to, thumbing that happy trail you’d been so taken with when you saw it earlier and feeling him tense. You looked up again and smiled, leaning in to lick another kiss against his lips. “Fuck me, you’re gorgeous,” you murmured against him, repeating his sentiment back to him.

The button of his jeans came undone with a shaky slip of your fingers between the two of you, and you pulled the zipper down, revealing a triangle of the material of his boxers. You could feel his thighs tense as you dipped your fingertips below his waistband, still trading wet kisses above.

His arms wrapped around you and he flipped you over, standing up to shuck his jeans the rest off but returning to you to tug at your sweatpants, pressing his lips to your skin as he did.

“What are you thinking about right now?”

His voice interrupted your stare – you’d been watching him, hyperaware of the spatial positioning of his body.

“You,” you said truthfully. “Not a whole lot else.”

He chuckled. “Good. I’m gonna keep it that way.”

The meaning of the details in his words escaped you, but nevertheless, you felt it in your core. Because that sounded like a promise.

He planted a kiss to the crease of your hip and hooked his fingers into the sides of your underwear, sliding them down your legs and tossing them over with your pants. He mouthed his way up your body again, right up to your ear.

“I’m gonna taste you – later though. Right now, I just want you to feel me.”

You took his hand and trailed it down, lining up your fingers and guiding them through the wetness there. “Trust me, I want that too,” you said, wanting to physically show him the evidence of your desire, but also needing him to touch you.

He groaned, stroking you on his own accord before slipping a finger into you. A gasp fell out of your mouth and your fingertips dug into his broad shoulders.

“Wanna feel you, Danny.”

He nodded in agreement and reluctantly withdrew himself from inside you, holding your gaze as he sucked the wetness there right off. “More to come,” he said, and the resulting repressed smile told you that he caught the pun, but didn’t make it known. You would have acknowledged it had he not immediately pushed his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and peeled them off.

You were rather too distracted to make a pun about coming when your neighbor Danny the Model/Drummer was now naked and on top of you. Hopefully you would actually be coming now that Danny was naked.

You wanted to stare. You really did. You wanted to take your time watching him move and exploring every last inch of his body and beauty, but when you felt him bump against your center, everything flew out of the window and all you knew was that you wanted whatever Danny was willing to give.

You didn’t remember being this…needy? Submissive? You weren’t sure what you would label what it was you were, but it was so different from your ex.

With him, you had to take. You had to guide and be responsible for your pleasure sometimes. It wasn’t that your ex couldn’t satisfy you. You had orgasms with him. But it wasn’t like this – wasn’t filled with anticipatory promises and this tightly-wound, electric tension.

And perhaps you were getting caught up in the newness and novelty of Danny and his body and the imminent prospect of sex with him while you had nothing but a lingering wisp of resentful feelings toward your ex. Perhaps you were just absorbed in the moment without the desire to try and remember what sex had been like with your ex at the beginning when everything was new and exciting, but Danny was inspiring thoughts and feelings that you couldn’t remember your ex ever inspiring.

You ex sure as hell had never fucked you on the floor of your living room to your record player, that’s for sure.

“Where are you, Y/N? You’re not with me anymore.”

You blinked, Danny’s face coming into focus. “Still with you. Still thinking about you. Just – sorry. I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but I – my mind was wanting to make comparisons. Between you and my ex.” You punctuated the sentence with an uncomfortable giggle, and Danny shifted against you, clearing his throat and glancing down to where he was still hard against you.

“And?”

You followed his gaze and let out a real laugh. “Not like that!”

Danny gave you a warm smile. “Well, even so, you know what they say – it’s not what you have, it’s how you use it.”

You’d been in situations like this before – naked and conversing – but never before sex. Always after. It was an equal amount of awkward and nice, really – you were still aroused, and you could feel that he was too, but he was interested in what you were saying, interested in more than just sex.

“Right,” you agreed with a kiss. “But anyways, not like that. I was thinking about how you’re making me feel, and how he used to make me feel. And it’s – fuck. This is gonna sound wrong.”

Danny lifted himself off of you and you whined, tightening your legs around his waist so that he couldn’t pull away, and he didn’t resist much. “I wanna hear what you have to say. Don’t worry. Don’t apologize. I’m not gonna gonna pull my pants on and walk out. Tell me what you’re thinking, pretty girl,” he said, returning his lips to your neck.

You arched it to give him more skin and took the opportunity to tell him what you were thinking. “What I’m feeling right now is miles away – so much better – than what I remember feeling with my ex. I want anything you have to offer, and I feel like I’ll be satisfied whether or not I end up coming.” A disgruntled noise came from Danny’s mouth, vibrating through you, but he let you finish the thought. “You give off ‘I’m gonna take care of you’ vibes, and it’s a nice change.”

Danny bit down on the juncture between the slope of your shoulder and your neck and you let out an exclamation of surprise.

“Your ex was an asshole. An utter douchebag by the sounds of it.”

“I mean, I’m not saying—”

He stole the rest of the sentence with his lips. “You don’t have to defend him. I don’t want you to. In fact, I don’t want you to fucking think about him at all. That’s not what we’re trying to do here.” You nodded, and he pressed his hips into yours. “And I will take care of you,” he murmured. “You’re gonna come tonight, I’ll make sure of it.”

His words sent shivers down your spine, and all the sudden you were tired of talking. You returned the movement of your hips. “Prove it to me?” you whispered against his lips, one hand threaded into the hair at the back of his head and one splayed out against his ribs.

Danny’s hand wandered back down to where you needed him, curling one long, callused finger into you for just a few strokes before adding another.

“Do you have a condom?”

You nodded. “It’s in my bedroom, though, I’ll go get it.” Danny left one more lingering kiss to your lips before he let you up, and you were back within 10 seconds, ripping the foil open and falling back onto the blanket with very little grace.

It was a little strange to you that the first time you touched Danny’s cock was when you were rolling a condom onto him, but it didn’t feel contrived. Every interaction with this man seemed to skip a few steps, but if that’s how it was, that’s how it was.

He spent a few more minutes working your mouth before he reached down to take himself in hand, pressing his tip to your entrance and putting a delicious pressure that didn’t quite take him inside, but teased it.

“Say my name,” he whispered.

“Danny,” you answered immediately.

He hummed. “That’s right, pretty girl, and I’m gonna take care of you.” He concluded the statement with the press of his cock into you, the burn filling up the empty ache.

You sighed, “Yes, Danny, yes, please,” and rolled your hips to meet him all the way, wrapping your legs around him when he was there.

He groaned. “Take me so well, pretty girl.”

He started up a slow rhythm with just his hips, rolling in and out of you in a continuous, smooth motion. It was a nice start – letting you get used to him without having to stay still. His elbows were planted flush against the top of your shoulders, your head resting between his hands. You clutched onto his back, hooking your arms behind his, and felt the shift of his muscles coincide with the movement of his hips.

You distantly heard the jazzy tune of “Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer” and would have laughed if the observation hadn’t actually been the furthest thing from your mind.

Danny nosed your cheek, pressing short pecks on your chin, the corner of your mouth, face close enough that you were breathing the same air.

One of his hands crept down to the curve of your ass, and in one move, hitched it up and ramped up his pace, forcing an unintelligible sound to bubble up from your throat.

“That’s it, Y/N, keep making those pretty sounds for me. Just for me. I’ll fuck you on every surface of this apartment and mine to every Christmas album I can find if you keep those noises up. Eat you out, get you nice and wet for me,” he said, the stream of filth he was spewing a surprise.

You didn’t want to say that you had sexpectations for him, but if you were to have them, dirty talk was not something you would have expected, if only because he had seemed so adamant about being polite. You weren’t going to complain, though.

The skin of his neck was achingly unmarked, and even though it was a rather juvenile concept, you thought a hickey would really compliment his skin tone – so you gave him one.

While he was busy keeping his rhythm up, you attached your mouth to a patch of skin right under his jawline.

He exhaled sharply against your ear and gripped your hips tighter, increasing the force of his thrusts, you body slipping along the soft material of the blanket. The hard line of the floor had felt unnatural at first, but it hadn’t mattered – even now, the primality of the location added to the general feel of the situation. Like you had thought earlier – nothing about your relationship with Danny was conventional.

One of his hands moved to circle your clit, making sure to give you the pressure you needed to heighten your pleasure.

“Come on, pretty girl, it’s just you and me,” he murmured with another kiss. “Want you to cum for me. Right here on your living room floor. Make a new memory with me.”

“Already have – Danny, Danny, keep going, don’t stop – I’m, I’m close,” you let him know, letting your feel slip against the blanket in an attempt to push your hips up into his.

“That’s right,” he panted in your ear, “what’s my name?”

“Danny!”

“Good. I love hearing you say it, pretty girl. Am I taking care of you?”

Praises left your mouth like angry bees out of a beehive, fast and furious and intentional. “Yes, fuck – Danny, you’re doing so well, taking care of me so well. You’re gonna make me come, make me feel so good –”

“I’d never think of doing it any other way.” You loved it when he was right by your ear, his voice deep and erotic and his breath warm. “When you’re with me, I’m gonna make you come, baby.”

It was the last thing he got out before the dual sensations between his cock scraping against your walls and his fingers moving on your clit made you come.

He moaned out your name when he felt your pleasure through the flutter against his cock and slowed down to let you properly feel everything without overstimulating you too quickly.

Your moans were swallowed down in desperate kisses, and once you felt your body calm down, you stroked a hand down his sweaty back – which was kinda gross, but you were both sweating so it was unavoidable if you wanted to touch him, and you did.

“You can go again, I’m alright,” you breathed against his lips, body boneless. Danny met your hooded gaze.

“You’re sure?”

You nodded, and he softly took your bottom lip into his mouth as he started moving again. It didn’t take long for him to finish, his hands wandering across the planes and curves of your body in a slow, lazy way until he jolted into you one last time, a curse and a groan of your name on his lips.

He waited until he’d caught his breath to pull out of you and roll onto the blanket, looking a little lost as to where he could put the condom without getting up.

You chuckled, tired. “Just lay it somewhere, it’s not like it’s gonna stain the carpet.” You were getting sleepier and sleepier and hoped he would spend the night with you, heart dropping when he got up and pulled his boxers on. “Are you leaving?”

“Of course not. I’m just gonna toss this and then we can move into the bedroom. Sex on the floor is one thing, sleeping on it is another.”

You hummed, brain telling you to get up but your body sluggishly resisting until Danny came back to pull you up from the ground, leading you into your room so that he could hold you as you fell asleep.

The record player had long since exhausted its contents, scratching lowly over and over as the night settled into silence.

~~~

Tag list: @fleetsonfire @theweightofstardust @joshplaysthevocals

[hmslusitania]

Paint it Black

@evanbucxley @arrenemris you guys wanted petty, jealous Eddie stuck in an elevator with Taylor during the blackout, right?

Eddie Diaz has been involved in his share of awkward dinners.

This one takes the cake though. It starts with him showing up at Buck’s loft by himself, and Buck opening the door with that stupid puppy-dog confused tilt to his head that makes Eddie want to do something drastic.

“Where’s Ana?” he asks.

“We broke up,” Eddie says. “Figured it would be weird to invite her to dinner after that.”

“Oh, I didn’t know,” Buck says, which yeah, Eddie knows because Eddie hadn’t told him yet. “I’m sorry, man.”

Which makes…one of them.

The night gets worse when Taylor shows up with her latest story of her investigation into – Eddie misses the details, but he’s discovered that Taylor’s voice somehow is at the exact right pitch that he can’t quite hear it most of the time. Weird how that works.

Buck, bless his fucking heart, feels none of the tension in the loft. Or if he does, he doesn’t react to it. He stays chipper and upbeat and positive and doesn’t comment when Eddie and Taylor trip over each other to help him with making dinner or pouring drinks or to sit beside him on the couch while the food cooks.

But, like, the spot on the couch beside Buck is Eddie’s spot, and if it’s not Eddie’s it’s Christopher’s.

And Eddie…loses the fight.

Taylor’s tiny, and for just half a second, he entertains the utterly absurd idea of just picking her up and moving her, but it flits out of his head almost as soon as it arrives. It’s quickly followed by an unfortunate realisation that it must be easy as anything for Buck to just pick her up and move her when – which is then immediately erased by the second-hand memory he acquired from Captain Mehta that Buck had been able to just pick Eddie up and toss him into the engine like he was a sack of potatoes – which –

He’s saved when dinner is ready, but he feels Taylor’s eyes on him the whole way through the meal.

Annoyingly, they end up leaving at the same time. Buck and Eddie have a shift in the morning, and Taylor has a story to cut before some deadline or other. Eddie would rather not walk out with her, would rather not share the elevator with her – he briefly considers legging it for the stairs but they’re at the other end of Buck’s floor and the elevator is right there and it would be absolutely blatant what he was doing – but if the alternative is knowing she’s staying the night at Buck’s, he’ll deal with the elevator.

They’re both quiet while the doors slide open, the soft whisper of the brushed stainless-steel brushing against the dust guards the only sound besides the simmering mutual animosity between them. They step into the elevator, which smells vaguely of Pinesol, and Taylor presses the button for the ground floor with a shiny lacquered red nail.

The doors close again and the shimmering, irritable silence fills the space. No elevator music in Buck’s building, which is probably for the best.

“So,” Taylor says as the world’s slowest elevator descends. “Is it personal or are you just jealous?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Eddie says. The elevator has faux wood panelling, not mirrors, so he can’t tell if she’s looking at him or if she’s staring straight ahead like he is.

“You either hate me on a personal level, because I’m me or something,” she says. “Or you hate me because you’re in love with Buck.”

Eddie gets as far as a spluttered, indignant, “I am not in love with—”

And then the elevator lurches. Stops. The lights flicker and then die. The emergency lights do not kick on.

“Well that’s comforting,” Taylor says, dry.

Eddie pulls out his phone. Usually, it’s still connected to Buck’s wifi by the elevator, and the connection’s gone. So it isn’t just the elevator.

“There’s a button in here that calls the fire department, right?” Taylor asks, pulling out her own phone and shining it at the elevator panel. She presses the button that should connect them directly to the department, and nothing happens.

“Depending on how wide the power outage is, it might have knocked out dispatch,” Eddie says.

“Great,” Taylor says. “You’re a firefighter, you can get the doors open, right?”

“With a Halligan and a fully functional shoulder?” Eddie asks. “Sure.”

She huffs. “Do you think it’s just this building or wider?”

“How would I know?” Eddie asks.

“So helpful, thank you.”

“What do you want me to do, Taylor? Use my magical powers of divination to figure out if we’re in a building-wide, block-wide, city-wide, county-wide blackout?” Eddie snaps.

He can’t see her face in the shitty half-light of their respective phone screens, but he hears her roll her eyes.

“It’s because you’re in love with him, right?” she asks.

“For fuck’s sake, Taylor, I’m not in love with—”

“Because he’s in love with you,” she interrupts as though he hasn’t spoken. Eddie’s heart stops. “It’s weird, I’ve never really had to vie for someone’s affections before. I can’t say I’m a fan, but, see, he thinks you aren’t an option.”

“He told you this?” Eddie asks and hopes to God his voice sounds normal because it does not feel like it.

Taylor snorts. “He didn’t have to. Do you guys have any idea what you’re like when you’re around each other? It’s obvious to anyone who even meets you in passing, and I know both of you and have a journalism degree. It’s not difficult math.”

“Then why are you dating him?” Eddie asks, swallowing back the lump that’s just jumped into his throat that feels suspiciously like his heart.

“Because I like him,” Taylor says. “And because I like a challenge.”

Before Eddie can say anything rude about Buck being worth more than a challenge to someone, she sighs.

“I’d say you’re going to have to fight me for him, but it’s not going to be much of a competition,” she says.

“You really think my chances are that bad?” Eddie asks and he hates how sad he sounds, even to his own ears.

Taylor doesn’t get a chance to answer before Eddie’s phone lights up with a picture of Buck and Chris together and Buck’s name in bright letters. In the sudden illumination, he sees the annoyed, resigned expression on her face.

“That answer your question?” she replies, and Eddie answers the phone.

“Hey, did you make it out or are you stuck in the elevator?” Buck asks.

“We’re stuck in the elevator,” Eddie says. “No idea what floor. Maybe three?”

“Cool, don’t go anywhere,” Buck replies and hangs up before Eddie can ask where, exactly, they might go.

An awkward silence hangs in the elevator in the wake of the phone call.

Until, finally, Taylor says, “For what it’s worth, if I had to lose to someone, at least you’re as pretty as I am.”

Eddie is still searching for some kind of response to that – coming up absolutely blank – when the elevator doors slide open. Buck, illuminated by a headlamp, waves at them and pockets his keys.

“You have an elevator key?” Taylor asks while Buck pulls her out.

“Fire marshals and captains get ’em,” Buck says. “They’re standard across production lines.”

“Fire marshals have to give them back,” Eddie points out.

“Eh, when I was a probie, we got an elevator rescue and Bobby told me to go open the doors, and so I stood there trying to pry them open for like five minutes before he walked up to the elevator panel and unlocked them with his key,” Buck says. “Chim and Hen laughed at me for about a month every time we got near an elevator. So when I did my turn as fire marshal, I may have made a copy.”

“Of course you did,” Eddie says. He rolls his eyes and is grateful for the darkness so Buck can’t see exactly how fond he must look.

Taylor catches him, though, and for a tense second, Eddie thinks she’s going to say something about it. But Taylor Kelly is a lot of things, but “quitter” isn’t one of them. It might not be a fair fight, and the outcome might be rigged in Eddie’s favour, but he understands then that she’s going to make him fight for it. Fight for Buck.

No worthier fight, really.

“We should check in, see if they want us on shift early,” Buck says, already pulling his phone out to text or call Bobby.

“And I should go investigate,” Taylor says. “I’m sure my station is missing me.”

“Okay,” Buck says. “Do you want my headlamp for the stairs?”

“I’ve got it, but, thank you,” Taylor says. She stretches on her toes to kiss him goodbye – much more thoroughly than she had when they left Buck’s apartment. She arches an eyebrow at Eddie once she’s let go of Buck and Eddie narrows his eyes right back. “See you boys later.”

She flips on the flashlight on her phone and waltzes off to the stairs.

“We should tell all my neighbours to stay inside,” Buck says.

“Sounds like a plan,” Eddie says, shooting a text to his abuela and Chris to ask them to do the same. He doesn’t know yet if the blackout’s reached their neighbourhood, but it’s a better policy.

“So what did you and Taylor talk about while you were in the elevator together?” Buck asks in between knocking on his neighbours’ doors to announce LAFD please remain inside your homes.

“We, uh, came to an understanding,” Eddie says.

“Oh! Good,” Buck says. He pauses. “What about?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Eddie recommends. He nudges Buck with his shoulder and gets a grin in response. “Let’s check in with Bobby and see if they need us or if they recommend we just stay inside and stay safe, too.”

“No one I’d rather weather a lockdown with,” Buck replies, as if the second she stepped into the stairwell, Taylor also disappeared from his head. “Well, except maybe Christopher.”

Eddie laughs, and thinks in Taylor’s direction, may the best person win.

[shmaptainwrites]

3 Meals & Dessert [Aaron Hotchner]

Pairings: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Characters: Aaron Hotchner, Penelope Garcia, Emily Prentiss, Jennifer "JJ" Jareau, David Rossi, Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan, Jack Hotchner

Words: 3.4K

Summary: Hotch loves to cook for you, breakfast, lunch, dinner, or dessert

Warnings: some swearing maybe, allusions to sex

A/N: okay soft!Hotch for y'all because that's what you deserve (and the gif was like the only food related one I could find sjsjsj)

Breakfast

The only thing worse than waking up to an empty bed on weekdays was waking up to one on the weekend.

You groaned turning to your side, seeing the messed up sheets thinking Hotch was called into work until you heard the loud clatter of dishes downstairs followed by an emphatic,

“Shit!”

And you sighed contently, as odd as it was. But if there were dishes clattering and swearing downstairs that meant he was home.

You pushed yourself out of bed with a small grunt, tugging Hotch’s shirt down slightly, grabbing your cell phone and walking downstairs, leaning in the stairwell when you saw him leaning over a recipe book.

“Trying something new?” you asked.

Hotch looked up from the book and sighed shaking his head.

“I’m sorry did I wake you?” he asked while you came over to his side, an arm wrapped around your waist, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

“No, but I thought you got called in, don’t scare me like that,” you chided. slapping his chest.

In return, his hand came behind you and tapped your behind, causing you to frown annoyedly.

“Alright Hotchner, what are you cooking for me?”

“Thought maybe I’d try crêpes, but I’m starting to think that was a mistake,” he rubbed his forehead with his thumb and forefinger.

“You’ll manage,” you grinned, stepping up on the top of your toes and pressing a slow drawn-out kiss to his lips, his hands gripping onto your bare waist, exposed from your shirt riding up from wrapping your arms around his neck. “Can I help?” you asked.

“Well if I could I would just have you for breakfast,” he growled and you laughed.

“Aaron,” you said warningly. “I’m hungry, food now and who knows maybe you’ll get a treat later,”

“Oh I’ll get my treat sweet girl,” he held your chin and pulled you up for one more kiss.

In the meantime you jumped up on the counter and watched him work, cracking the eggs into the batter bowl, before staring back at the recipe and swearing again.

“Are we dropping off extra at the office?”

“Yep,” he nodded. “I put three times the number of eggs I needed to,”

“Alright come on let me help,” you insisted.

“Fine, go cut fruit over there,” he pointed to the counter.

“Why? So you can stare at my ass?”

“Maybe,” he muttered and you rolled your eyes, grabbing some strawberries and other fruits from the fridge.

“Aaron,” you whined after a good two hours. “I’m hungry when the hell is this gonna be done,” you tugged at his quarter-zip sweater, pulling him down for a pleading kiss.

“Almost there sweetheart,” he sighed, wiping the sweat off his brow from the hot stovetop. “Remind me not to do this ever again,”

“What cook for me? Or make crêpes?”

“The crêpes,” he confirmed, motioning to his outfit that he would surely have to change out of after everything that had happened. There were streaks of flour, splotches of batter and berry stains (that one was completely your fault) all over his sweater and it made him wish he had worn an apron.

Ten agonizing minutes later, the food was finally done and he brought a small plate of the French pancakes over to the dining room for the both of you to share.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” you grinned, pulling away from your seat and Hotch gave you a slight frown. He thought he had gotten everything, coffee, tea, maple syrup, whipped cream, fruit, what more could there be?

You came back to the table with a cut lemon and a bowl of… icing sugar?

He watched you carefully as you sprinkled the sugar over your crêpe and then squeezed the lemon juice over it before wrapping it and cutting it in slices, popping a piece in your mouth with a loud sigh.

“These are so-why are you staring at me?” you asked, mouth full of food.

He was looking at you so intently, a small smile tugging at his lips,

“You just, always do the weirdest things with your food,” he noted. “And I love it,”

“I’ll have you know they eat them this way in France,” you got a little defensive despite his second comment. “And I don’t do weird things with my food,” you pouted.

Aaron only chuckled and dipped his finger in the bowl of whipped cream, tapping your nose and letting the small dollop rest there.

You crossed your eyes to look at it, making him laugh even harder when you tried to reach it with your own tongue but failed.

“Come here,” Aaron said, leaning in across the corner of the table. You followed suit and watched as he came closer, carefully pressing a kiss to your nose and taking the whipped cream away with it.

You were about to retort with some comment when you heard the lock click on the door and it was pushed open followed by almost a stampede of people coming into the house.

“Derek? JJ? Penny-guys what the hell are you doing here?” you asked and Hotch looked just as surprised as you.

“You said you had food, you weren’t lying right?” Emily asked.

“We’re starving,” Rossi clarified. “Case just wrapped up and we were all about to go home and make ourselves breakfast but-,”

“You messaged and said you were going to bring extra by the office anyway so we came here,” Garcia finished.

“I knew I shouldn’t have given you that key,” you shook your head at Morgan who only raised his hands in defence and pointed at JJ.

“Don’t look at me, it was her,”

“JJ,” you gasped.

“Sorry, we’re really hungry,” she apologized.

“You gave them keys?” Hotch looked at you curiously, but at the moment everyone was too hungry to pay attention to the unit chief.

“Did you make crêpes?” Reid asked and Hotch nodded his head. “Did you know that crêpes were invented in 13th century Brittany France when a housewife accidentally poured porridge on a hot flat cooktop and back then people wouldn’t waste food no matter what so she ate it and here we are,”

You smiled at that with a small chuckle, looking over at Hotch to see what he thought.

“Alright, pull up some chairs, plates are in that cupboard and forks and knives in that drawer,” he nodded, motioning for them to all come around and join you both.

Garcia was on plates while Emily grabbed extra forks and knives and the rest pulled up chairs tightly around the dining room table.

Food was passed around, dishes clattered and relieved non-work-related chatter filled the room. You glanced over at Hotch, his hand placed on your thigh, a smile adorning your face. He looked over at you and you felt him give your leg a small squeeze, that silent look in his eyes you knew all too well as I love you.

—

Lunch

“God I’m starving,” you let your head fall against your desk. “I’m tired and exhausted and hungry and starving,”

“You just said the same thing twice, and then another thing twice again,” Reid noted.

“It was to accentuate my point,” you rolled your head to the side to look at the young doctor.

“Hotch your girl’s hungry!” Morgan yelled across the office and you slapped him while he walked by.

Hotch came over, some papers and books in his hands as he approached you.

“Have you eaten anything today?” he asked and you thought back to that morning where you were almost late for work.

“No,” you shook your head.

“Had something to drink?”

You shook your head again.

He sighed, putting down his things next to you and resting his hand on your shoulder,

“I’m gonna go make you something to eat quickly,”

“Aaron you have to work-,”

“No it’s fine,” he assured you.

“Thank you,” you settled on, watching as he walked over to the kitchenette to pull something together from what was in the fridge.

“The day I get myself a man like that,” Garcia sighed, watching the events unfold in front of her.

“Yeah he really is a dream,” you nodded, not breaking your glance from him. He had removed his suit jacket and flicked his tie over his shoulder. It was probably a rare sight for the rest of the agents working in the building to see the Unit Chief so casual, cooking even if it was only what looked like a grilled cheese sandwich from where you were sitting.

While you were waiting Morgan had brought you some water and instructed you to drink it, saying it was probably contributing to your headache which contributed to your exhaustion.

You really needed to learn to take care of yourself better, but then again this was coming from the person who faked not being sick so they could go on a case.

Yeah, everyone was mad about that one when they found out.

No more than ten minutes later, Hotch was walking back to your side with a sandwich on a plate placed in front of you.

“That should keep you until dinner,” he said, “We can order before we leave tonight so we don’t have to make anything when we get home,”

“You’re a doll,” you said, giving him a tight-lipped smile.

He pulled up a chair, grabbing the papers he had left by your desk so he could go over them with you, that was his plan initially even though it was stalled to make you a little something to eat.

While he spoke you dug around your desk for a knife and when you finally found one you lined it up over your grilled cheese sandwich and cut it with a large X in the centre. Corner to corner.

You heard Hotch’s voice fade to silence and you sighed.

“What did I do this time?” you asked and he looked like he was trying to hold back a snort. “Aaron,”

“You don’t have to cut it like that you know,” he said motioning to the sandwich with his eyes. “You’re not giving it to Jack,”

“I know that,” you said. “What? Is it a crime to want my grilled cheese cut in triangles?”

“But you’re not a kid,” he poked.

“Aaron can I eat my tiny grilled cheese triangles you so lovingly made me in peace?!” you exclaimed with a chuckle, not sure where the heck all of this was coming from. “Seriously, do you not cut your grilled cheese when you eat it?”

Hotch shook his head and you looked desperately over to Reid who did the same, then Morgan.

“Sorry baby girl, you’re on your own,”

“Okay fine I’m the weird one, happy?” you huffed, eating the small piece of your sandwich with a huff. “But you can’t tell me it isn’t more enjoyable eating it this way. You guys are just too busy being adults to let your kid-side show every once in a while. At least I know how to have a little fun,”

Hotch smiled at that, leaning in towards you, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before whispering,

“And that’s why I love you, my sweet girl,”

And well, you didn’t want to admit it, but after that, you could look past a little teasing.

—

Dinner

“(N/N) this is supposed to be my gift to you, I can’t very well make you dinner if you keep trying to pull me away,” Aaron stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

“I understand that, but it’s our anniversary,” you said. “Just one dance? The music is already playing, the food is simmering on the stove, just one three minute song,”

He sighed and nodded, taking off his apron, still in his work clothes (jacket and tie discarded somewhere most likely) and coming over to the living room where you had already moved the coffee table to create some room for you to be able to dance together.

His arms wrapped themselves around your waist while yours found their favourite spot around his neck, laying your head to rest against his chest as you swayed from side to side listening to the slow jazz music playing from the stereo. Aaron said it gave the house a nice ambiance, but you knew deep down he just liked to listen to music while he was cooking.

“You steal a recipe from Dave?” you asked.

“Of course I did,” he nodded like there was no question about it. “That’s why it’s going so smoothly his instructions leave no margin for error,”

“Good then it’ll be perfect,” you teased. “Now as long as I’m sure not to message anyone that we have food here we should be able to eat in peace,”

“That we should,” he nodded and your quiet dancing was interrupted by the sound of the oven beeping and with a sad sigh from you and an apologetic kiss from Aaron he broke away from you to grab the garlic bread from the oven and take the pasta sauce off the heat.

“Alright, let me just bring this all over and we should be ready to dig in,” he grinned, wiping hands on the dishtowel.

“Aaron honey I think I have a better idea,”

Even though he had prepared a very nice romantic table setting for the two of you he had to admit he did like your idea much better.

You fixed up one large plate of food and took it upstairs grabbing the remote for the TV while Aaron fixed up the pillows.

You curled up next to him while he had the small TV dinner table set up in front of you with the plate of food and some cutlery.

“Shoot I forgot another fork and spoon,” he sighed, about to stand to grab it and you shook your head, pushing him back down.

“One is more than enough, we can share,” you chuckled and he smiled. “And you can pick what we watch, that’s my gift to you,” you joked.

“Oh Liverpool is playing Manchester City right now,” he quickly switched the channels and tossed the remote to the side of the bed while you started to eat the food.

“What colour are we cheering for?” you asked.

“White jerseys,” he instructed and you nodded, seeing how intensely he was staring at the screen. It was almost cute.

You could see in his eyes he was trying to tone down his movements and cursing, otherwise, the spaghetti would be all over the bed.

“Aaron, you haven’t taken a bite yet, try your own food,” you placed a forkful against his mouth and he chuckled, opening up so he could eat the food.

“Thank you, Dave,” he said quietly with his mouth full and you chuckled.

“Yes, we’ll have to thank him when we’re back at work,” you nodded. “More?’ you asked, now shoving some garlic bread into his mouth.

“(Y/N)-,” his voice was muffled and you tried to stifle a laugh, but the sight of Unit Chief Hotchner with garlic bread sticking out of his mouth like an oversized cigar.

You couldn’t help but snort, tucking your face into his shoulder, hiding your laughter terribly as he could feel it vibrate off you while he shook his head, biting the bread and taking the remainder out of his mouth and putting it on the plate and wiping his face with one of the napkins.

“You sure this was the kind of anniversary dinner you wanted?” he asked and you nodded your head emphatically.

“Any day I get to see goofy Aaron is a good day,”

“Really?” he asked, the soccer game completely forgotten at this point.

You nodded and watched as he removed the small table from the bed and placed himself on top of you, his fingers finding the sensitive part of your waist and tickling you.

“Aaron!” you gasped, squirming under his touch while he bent his head down to press small nipping kisses against your neck, making you laugh even louder, almost gasping for air.

He stopped and your body stopped moving, finally relaxing and your breathing heavy.

“You’re going to pay for that one,” you pointed up to his face that had a cheeky smirk.

“Really my sweet girl? I thought you loved goofy Aaron though,”

“Not at that expense,” you gave him a breathy chuckle, food long forgotten.

“Well then, maybe we can try something a little different for dessert,” he winked and you grinned, pulling him in for a quick kiss so abruptly that he fell right on top of you. But when he laid there in your arms, the sweet sound of his laughter ringing in your ears everything felt right.

—

Dessert

“Alright Jack so you have the icing ready?” you asked and turned to look at the boy with his father only to see little bits of blue frosting around the young boy’s mouth and a hasty Aaron trying to hide the evidence. “Not so fast there Hotchner,” you ran over to the two of them quickly. “Jack open up,” you gave him a look and he did, showing his blue-dyed tongue.

Aaron was about to walk away but you stopped him.

“You too, open up,” you pointed to his mouth.

He sighed and stuck out his tongue, revealing some of the blue dye that had been left there from trying the icing.

“I thought I taught you both better,” you shook your head and sighed.

“You think if we give her a kiss she might forget about it?” he whispered not so discreetly to his son.

“(N/N)!” Jack said loudly, holding his arms out to be picked up and you obliged, his arms wrapped around your neck and legs around your waist.

“Yes Jack?” you asked with a grin.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized and pressed a smacking kiss to your cheek.

“Me too sweet girl,” Aaron said, now wrapping his arms around you both so Jack was sandwiched in between you two and ducked down so his dad could give you a sweet kiss.

“Oh alright, I guess all is forgiven,” you sighed. “Come on, the cupcakes are ready for the frosting now,” you said and Aaron grabbed the bowl while you brought Jack with you to the counter, placing him on a stool and handing him a plastic knife so he could decorate the cupcakes and pick whatever assortment of sprinkles he wanted.

It seemed he and Aaron had a bit of a system, Jack would frost the cupcakes and Aaron would decorate them, carefully placing sparkles on them, almost as if he was trying to write something out.

“Can I see?’ you asked and he quickly turned away.

“Not until they’re done,” he shook his head. “We’ll be quick, right Jack?”

Jack nodded and you let them do your thing, picking up one of the cupcakes you had decorated and ate it happily.

Now Aaron and Jack were arranging the cupcakes and you could see a large smile on their faces.

“Okay ready,” Aaron said, picking up Jack and moving aside so you could come and see their little masterpiece.

When you glanced down at the words you almost choked on your food. Swallowing quickly you turned around to him, eyes wide.

“Really?” you smiled and he nodded and motioned to Jack with his eyes who was holding a small box to give to you.

You took the box from the small boy’s hands and opened it, seeing the simple sparkling ring inside.

“So that’s why you needed two dozen cupcakes,” you chuckled lightly, wiping the happy tears from your eyes.

“What’s your answer?” Jack asked eagerly, almost looking like he was ready to jump into your arms.

“Yes,” you nodded, placing the ring on your finger. “Yes, yes, yes,” you repeated and the two boys cheered and high-fived and you couldn’t help but laugh at their father-son shenanigans.

“I love you,” you grinned, pressing a kiss to Jack’s forehead then one on your fiance’s lips. “Both of you,”

“We love you too,” Aaron said softly.

“Even though you wouldn’t let us try the icing,” Jack crossed his arms and you shook your head, ruffling his hair.

That was the sweetest dessert of them all.

If you enjoyed this fic please consider reblogging it or commenting! It's the best way to support and keep creators motivated! - mimi

everything:

@wifenumberfour @hotchnerundercover @disgruntledchowchow @itsalonglongwaytobasingse @pachiibatt @calm-thy-breasts @g1nnyslove

aaron hotchner:

@mintpheonix @ssaic-jareau @84hotpockets @pachiibatt @wanniiieeee @enjoymyloves @yoshigguk @kleff03 @witch-with-wifi @justreadingficsdontmindme

[ameliterature]

Chameron Ficlet (Headline)

Based on @poetofthedyingstars ' post

For my Chameron Shippers @maisietheweltoncow @propaganda-for-poets @duh-itsalampmeeks @cupiiid

Cameron wasn't homophobic, he swore by it. He supported Neil when he came out to everyone, he supported him even more when he and Todd got together. Cameron supported the idea of Meeks and Pitts being a queer platonic couple even if he didn't understand it at all. Cameron, being as straight as a ruler, knew he had nothing against Homosexuality or any other sexuality than his own.

So why, on God's good Earth, did he loathe the idea of Charlie kissing Knox right now? He also didn't enjoy him kissing Neil and Todd immediately after. They were all playing Spin-the-Bottle, an innocent game, and he knew Charlie was openly bisexual since they were in Grade 7. But why did Cameron hate it when Charlie would go over to other guys and playfully kiss them like it was nothing? Like it was easy?

Not that Cameron was against that. Cameron was ok with guys kissing guys. He's caught Neil and Todd kissing secretly by the stairwell once. Heck, he's seen so many secret gay couples in Welton more than he could count.

When Charlie kissed girls before, Cameron would feel a tad jealous, perhaps because even he wanted to kiss a pretty girl like Charlie could. But on times Charlie would sneak out and kiss some random guy on the lips, Cameron's stomach would twist in agony.

Could... Could Cameron be homophobic after all? Could he really be that bigoted against his own roommate?

It was Cameron's turn to spin the bottle, and of course it landed on Charlie.

Cameron prepared his guts not to suddenly jerk away from Charlie's hand. He tried his best not to feel offended by this action. He wanted to be a good friend.

As Charlie brought his hand over Cameron's cheek, the redhead felt his cheeks simmer. He's nervous, that's normal, he's also anticipating the kiss, that's probably normal... right? He's kissing Charlie Dalton, that's...

Cameron's eyes were closed as he and Charlie shared a kiss, their friends were whooping and laughing, clapping and cheering, reminding Cameron that this kiss was all in good fun. When Charlie pulled away, giving him a shy smile, Cameron could only stare at him back.

He kissed Charlie Dalton.

The whole night, Cameron was more silent, barely adding to the conversation. Sometimes Todd would ask him a few questions, or Meeks would pass him a cigarette to check on him, but Cameron was clearly dazed.

When they returned to their dorm, once Charlie took off his coat and shoes before haphazardly plopping onto bed, Cameron sat upright by his bed, silently taking off his own shoes.

"Hey Cam, you okay? You were pretty quiet the whole walk back here." Charlie had his head propped over his hand.

"I... I'm fine."

"C'mon, you can tell me. Unlike you, I don't fink." Charlie playfully teases. Charlie felt it was a slip of his tongue because he noticed Cameron becoming even more glum.

"Sorry I kissed you a while ago Cam,"

"W-what?"

"I'm sorry, I know you're straight and all- I'm sorry if we made you feel uncomfortable in anyway." Charlie sat up, finally facing Cameron properly.

"Charlie... It's not that- That's not the point."

"Well... What is the point?" Charlie tilts his head at him.

Cameron could only stare at Charlie's face in the dim moonlight peeking through their window; with what little moonlight there was anyway.

"The point... Ch-Charlie... Is that I don't like it when you kiss other guys...." Cameron's voice was shaky, he couldn't believe what he's saying.

"... Cam? What do you mean? I know you're not into kissing guys, but I at least thought you'd respect when I do."

"N-no... I mean--" Cameron scratches the back of his head, making Charlie (and even himself) more anxious.

"Well? Spit it out."

"I... I don't like it when you kiss... other guys." Cameron buried his face into his hands in embarrassment.

Charlie took a moment to reiterate what his roommate said in his head. "O-oh... OOOHHH."

Charlie walked over to stand in front of Cameron, promptly kneeling down to remove Cameron's hands from his face. It revealed tear-soaked eyes and a worried look.

"Hahaha... For a second there I thought you were homophobic..." Charlie smirks up at him.

"Y-yeah... I thought so too..." Cameron returns the smile, still looking away. "I just... I'm fine, really. I'll get used to you kissing whoever you want."

"Hey Cam..." Charlie brings his hand over to Cameron's chin, gently getting him to face his direction. "I don't mind... only kissing you romantically from now on... But I'd still kiss everyone platonically of course." Charlie raising his eyebrow in jest.

"It's alright, Charlie, you can kiss whoever you want." Cameron sighs, in relief at least, Charlie held his hands in a way that kept him safe.

"Alright... If you say so--" Charlie leaned forward to plant another kiss on Cameron's lips, this time, more intentional than their first one, more passionate even.

Cameron, as it turns out, didn't have a problem with Charlie kissing guys if it was just him he was kissing. He worried all night if he was being homophobic, but as he and Charlie shared their second kiss, he realized he was in love with him this whole time.

End

[mysterioushogwartsrequests]

Would you do a slight NSFW Draco Malfoy imagine of him dating a Slytherin who's good friends with Hermione, Ron and Harry and she manages to convince Draco to go to the Three Broomsticks with the Golden Trio and be cordial with them since she's promised him some alone time if he's nice to them since she wants them to see that he's not all bad because they don't get what she sees him in?

Hello! This one took forever to write, I lowkey got stumped and I couldn’t figure out how to write the ending, lol. I didn’t want to go all-in so this is what I came up with. I love Draco Malfoy so I want to do him justice!

                                           ϟ ϟ ϟ

Draco watched as (Y/N) (L/N) adjusted her lipstick in his dormitory mirror, studying her silhouette as she bent over his dresser. As an upcoming superstar for the Slytherin Quidditch Team, (Y/N) was quite popular and often found herself being the center of attention. But once the school caught wind of her relationship with the Draco Malfoy, it did not take long for them to be considered the power couple of Slytherin House. However, despite sharing a perfectly healthy relationship, there were a few students that questioned (Y/N)’s partner of choice.

These complaints came from the three most determined students of Gryffindor House. Despite being in separate houses, the Golden Trio and (Y/N) managed to become great friends, effectively breaking the hateful stereotype between Gryffindor and Slytherin relationships. During their second year, (Y/N) found herself in quite the predicament when she fell off a borrowed broom hours past curfew. She spent a fair amount of time sprawled across the training grounds staring up at the starry sky trying to ignore the excruciating pain of her broken arm. It was then that Harry, Ron, and Hermione stumbled upon her still body as they pursued the mystery of the Chamber of Secrets. Hermione Granger was the first to approach her, momentarily scolding (Y/N) for breaking the rules before examining the extent of her wounds.

Harry and Ron followed cautiously behind Hermione, the two of them exchanging worried looks before kneeling beside (Y/N).

“It’ll be alright,” said Ron with a sympathetic smile, “We’ll take care of you.” 

From that day on the four of them were inseparable. Which was a natural outcome when a group fabricated lies to fool Madam Pomfrey or any other staff member, for that matter. When they were not chasing dangerous creatures within Hogwarts, they often spent their time near the Quidditch Pitch, with Harry and Ron teaching (Y/N) the basics of the game while Hermione reviewed her books from the ground. As time went on (Y/N), and Hermione calmly listened to Harry and Ron’s rants about Draco Malfoy and how much they despised him. 

Being from the same house as Draco Malfoy, (Y/N) often found herself conflicted between choosing her friends and abiding by the “your house is like your family” statement. She could not think of one occasion where Malfoy had been rude to her directly, but she could not excuse his behavior towards her friends. It was not until Professor Snape paired them up for a Potions essay that (Y/N) and Draco began learning more about each other. Draco was used to boasting and putting on a show in front of other students, but he quickly realized that (Y/N) would not succumb to his usual tricks.

Draco lay comfortably against his bed, his arms crossed behind his head as his eyes landed on the plaid pleated skirt his loving girlfriend decided to wear for their Hogsmeade trip. (Y/N) looked at Draco’s reflection, a devious smile playing at her lips as she bent forwards, giving her boyfriend a better view of what he quietly desired. At this movement, Draco clicked his tongue and scowled in her direction, swiftly rising from his four-poster, and making his way towards her. 

“Little nymph,” uttered Draco against her ear, rubbing small circles against her hips as she straightened up, “We could just stay. Avoid the trouble... and have a little fun ourselves.” Under different circumstances, Draco would have been thrilled to visit Hogsmeade with his beloved, but he knew they would not be spending the afternoon alone. 

(Y/N) cleared her throat, her eyes landing on the silver “I” on Draco’s robes before excellently replicating Professor Umbridge’s high-pitched voice, “Boys and girls are not permitted to be within eight inches of each other,” she teased, leaning back into Draco’s grip as he scoffed. Spinning her around, Draco lifted her onto his dresser, pushing her skirt up farther up her thighs. 

“I’d like to think I can change your tune rather quickly,” Draco snapped, pressing chaste kisses against the smooth skin of her neck, “I’ll never understand how you imitate that woman so perfectly” he added, earning a giggle from (Y/N).

“One of my many talents,” retaliated (Y/N), wrapping her arms around Draco’s neck, “You know, I can’t help but think this is your way of distracting me” she added, twirling small strands of his platinum blonde hair.

“Ugh,” groaned Draco, “I just don’t understand why we have to spend our Saturday with Potter and his stupid friends,” he spat but quickly scowled at (Y/N)’s hurt expression. 

“I’ve told you before, Draco,” (Y/N) frowned, “They’re my friends too and I wish for us to get along. It took me a while to convince them, but they’ve agreed to give you one more chance,” she said, placing her hand against her boyfriend’s cheek, “I want them to see the real you, the Draco I fell in love with.”

Draco turned his head away from (Y/N) but held her hand to acknowledge her words. Despite being together for a little over a year, he still found it quite difficult to let his guard down completely. He supposed it was due to his family’s teachings and the expectations of his Father, but throughout his relationship with (Y/N), he came to realize there were far more important matters. One of them being keeping (Y/N) (L/N) safe and content. 

“Fine,” Draco uttered, his grey eyes meeting hers, “I’ll do it for you, Darling” he added, pressing a gentle kiss against her forehead before capturing her lips in a sweet kiss. (Y/N) smiled against his kiss, pressing her forehead against his once he pulled away. 

“I appreciate it, Draco,” She whispered, pressing a light kiss against the tip of his nose, “and don’t forget, I promised you a little reward if you behave.” (Y/N) added seductively, leading Draco’s hands underneath her short skirt. 

Draco hummed contently, harshly squeezing the back of her thighs and lifting her against his body, her legs wrapping instinctively over his hips, “Well then, I’ll make sure to be on my best behavior,” He said, kissing her once again and setting her down in front of him, “We better get going, it’s not polite to keep them waiting.”

(Y/N) laughed at his change of behavior, taking one final look in the mirror, and heading towards the door. A loud smack suddenly filled the room, earning a small yelp of surprise from (Y/N), “Draco!” she exclaimed, turning to face her seemingly innocent boyfriend, “Why don’t you save the spanking for later?” she teased as Draco chuckled. 

“Alright, alright,” He added, raising his arms defensively, “but you are aware of how much I adore those little skirts you wear.”

(Y/N) opened the door of the boys’ dormitory and took another glance back at Draco, “and that is exactly why I wear them,” She winked and scurried down the stairs, filling the stairwell with her giggles as Draco chased behind her. 

                                            ϟ ϟ ϟ

Meanwhile, at the Three Broomsticks, Ron Weasley let out his fourth impatient huff of the afternoon, leaning his hand into his palm with a noticeable scowl on his face. “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” he grumbled, taking another swig of his Butterbeer as they waited. 

Hermione sighed once again, “Ron, this is for (Y/N), just try to give him a chance.” Even though she was attempting to sound positive, Hermione could not help feel wary of what was to come. They had never seen eye to eye with Draco Malfoy and his new position on Umbridge’s Inquisitorial Squad made the situation even more cumbersome. 

“Ron’s right, Hermione,” added Harry, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back into his seat, “I find it hard to believe that Malfoy has a ‘good’ side.” Hermione scoffed at his words, glaring at the crabby boys beside her, “Oh, stop it!” exclaimed Hermione, “You two know how much (Y/N) cares for him, we at least have to make the effort to talk to him.” Ron and Harry looked towards each other, exchanging abhorrent looks until Hermione elbowed them both. 

“Bloody hell, Hermione!” exclaimed Ron, tenderly rubbing his aching side, but quickly shut up once he noticed the presence of his friend (Y/N) and her boyfriend. Hermione quickly rose from her seat and greeted (Y/N) with a tight hug before awkwardly turning to face the silent Draco Malfoy. 

“Hello, Draco” she greeted, extending her hand for him to shake. Draco shifted his eyes towards (Y/N) who gave an encouraging nod as he gripped Hermione’s outstretched hand. 

“Hello, Granger,” He replied, a meek smile playing at his lips as he turned towards the boys sitting at the booth, “Weasley, Potter, good to see you.” 

Ron absentmindedly let his jaw drop, hesitantly replying “Erm- Good to see you too, Malfoy”, carelessly scratching his head as Hermione returned to her seat beside him. Harry, however, did not speak, he only acknowledged Draco with a subtle nod of the head as he sipped his Butterbeer. Draco smiled towards (Y/N), pulling a chair out and gesturing for her to take a seat, “I’ll go order us some more drinks,” He stated, kissing the top of his girlfriend’s head before sauntering away.

  Ron watched Draco go in shock, “good to see you?!” he whispered harshly, slapping his hand against his forehead, “I sound like a prat!”. Hermione scowled once again, shooting a reassuring look towards (Y/N), “Ron’s just getting used to this, I’m sure he’ll behave once Draco returns” she stated comfortingly, taking (Y/N)’s hand into hers with a smile, “But honestly, I didn’t expect him to say that either.”

(Y/N) laughed, patting the top of Hermione’s hand as she glanced back at Draco at the bar, “I told you he was polite,” she added with a grin, “You just have to get to know him.” With nearly perfect timing, Draco returned and took a seat next to his girlfriend, wrapping his arm around the back of her chair. Ron examined the situation carefully, his protective instinct rising as Malfoy got closer to his friend.

“Madam Rosmerta will bring our drinks soon, I also requested an assortment of pastries” Draco spoke out, lacing his fingers with (Y/N)’s underneath the wooden table, “My treat,” he added, earning a satisfied smile from his girlfriend. 

Some of Ron’s animosity disappeared at the mention of free food and he gave a small nod of appreciation towards Draco, “Thanks, Malfoy” he uttered, looking towards Harry and Hermione who were also having a difficult time understanding this “new” side of Malfoy. 

A wave of silence fell over them. It seemed like they were unsure of who should speak first, but upon feeling the gentle squeeze of (Y/N)’s hand, Draco cleared his throat, “So, (Y/N) tells me you two taught her how to play Quidditch,” he added, nodding his head towards Harry and Ron curiously. 

“Uh, yeah,” Harry replied, speaking up for the first time since the couple’s arrival, “(Y/N)’s a natural though, it didn’t take long for her to learn the basics.” 

“That reminds me,” added Ron, grinning as Madame Rosmerta set down their freshly baked pastries and full goblets of Butterbeer, “(Y/N), you haven’t told us your favorite Quidditch team! I think you should have a pretty good idea at this point,” he said, bringing his cup to his lips to take a generous gulp. 

(Y/N) took the opportunity to play a joke on her friends, taking a bite of her warm apple tart before saying, “Why! The Chudley Cannons, of course!” 

Harry immediately regretted taking such a big drink, choking on the liquid before (Y/N) even finished her sentence. Hermione let out a panicked squeal, patting Harry’s back as he violently coughed, “T-The Chudley Cannons?! Have you gone mad?!” He exclaimed tearfully, looking towards (Y/N) in bewilderment. 

Ron subtly placed his hand over his mouth, concealing his smile as Harry finished up his coughing fit. Draco, on the other hand, could not hide his amusement and snickered at Potter’s antics. (Y/N) burst laughing at Harry’s reaction, quickly shaking her head, “I was just pulling your leg! The Chudley Cannons are complete rubbish!” 

Ron let out an angry scoff, “Hey! It is just a management problem! The players are quite good!” He defended while Harry violently shook his head. 

“I’m glad it was just a joke, I was ready to take you to Madam Pomfrey” Harry exclaimed, dabbing his mouth with a napkin and sinking back into his seat.

“And what would she have done?” Hermione asked dubiously, taking a bite of a pumpkin pasty.

“Unless she knew a cure for madness, she would not have been much help,” chuckled Draco as he sipped his Butterbeer, earning a noticeable smile from Ron and Hermione. 

Harry rolled his eyes and grabbed pastry off the tray, “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled in annoyance, “She could’ve examined (Y/N)’s head or something, I don’t know”

“Who do you follow then, Potter?” Asked Draco curiously, wrapping his arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders as they continued their conversation. 

“Uh-” Harry paused, caught off-guard by his question“Well, the Bulgarian team has some great players, but I’d say it’s between them and Ireland” He admitted, recalling the 1994 Quidditch World Cup, “Can’t say I have a favorite, though” 

“The Gryffindor team is definitely your favorite,” teased (Y/N), “but that is a bit biased since you are their Seeker.”

Harry playfully rolled his eyes at her comment, “Can you honestly say your favorite team isn’t the Slytherin team?” He asked, pointing an accusatory finger towards (Y/N). Both she and Draco laughed, shrugging at Harry’s reasonably accurate comment, “You got me there” she admitted.

“We are quite good,” Draco admitted proudly with a nod of the head, “Never lost a match until you came along,” he added, shrugging towards Harry, “I promise we’ll beat you next time, (Y/N) and I have been training non-stop.” 

Harry snickered at Draco’s comment, “We’ll see about that, Malfoy,” he grinned, “I’m not going to let you off easy just because you’re with (Y/N).” 

Draco clicked his tongue in amusement, “I want a fair match, Potter.” He stated sternly, “I wouldn’t be satisfied if I won a match just because you threw it” 

“Then we’ll settle this on the field,” Harry stated confidently, raising his Butterbeer in satisfaction and finishing it off. 

After a surprisingly pleasant outing, the five of them walked back towards the castle, hoping Professor Umbridge would not catch them sneaking in the extra special butterbeer Madam Rosmerta brewed per Draco’s request (and compensation, of course). Disregarding educational decree number twenty-six, Draco snaked his arm around (Y/N)’s waist, pulling her closer to him as they strode towards the Great Hall. Once there, Hermione gave (Y/N) a hug as they happily exchanged goodbyes for the evening. Draco and (Y/N) gave the Golden Trio one final wave before turning towards the direction of the Slytherin common room, making their way there quicker and more excitedly than usual.  

Delighted to find his dormitory empty, Draco urged his girlfriend into the room and swiftly locked the door. Although he would not give her the satisfaction of knowing this information, he actually had a great evening at Hogsmeade with (Y/N) and her friends. However, this realization did not deter Draco’s excitement as he recalled his dear girlfriend’s promise before they left. 

Placing a hand against the small of her back, Draco pushed (Y/N)’s stomach against the dresser she used to tease him earlier. “I’d say I put forth my very best manners today, wouldn’t you agree?” He muttered against her ear, earning a small gasp from her as one of his hands gripped her hip and the other sneaked towards the buttons of her shirt. A sultry moan slid past (Y/N)’s lips as Draco’s hips ground against her clothed behind. 

Encouraged by her noises, Draco wrapped his fingers underneath her chin and lifted it so their eyes met in the mirror, “Should I take that as a yes?” He asked huskily, pressing a kiss against her cheek as he gave her throat a squeeze.

 The boldness she exhibited earlier quickly cast out the window as she gave a rather desperate nod, enthralled by Draco’s movements. (Y/N)’s mind had strayed farther than she had expected it to. It did not matter how confident she acted before their usual teasing started, as soon as his expertly calculated movements began, she became putty in his hands. The feeling of his fingers tracing lines up her thigh until they were hidden under her skirt made her heart beat wildly. Draco carefully inched his fingers up her inner thigh, ghosting them over her dampening core, but moved them away without pressing them into her. Shifting her hips, (Y/N) let out another small whine as she attempted to at least brush herself on Draco’s fingers, earning a small tut from him.  

“Cat got your tongue, Princess?” inquired Draco, his hands moving to flip her skirt up, exposing the flimsy black lace underwear she flashed earlier, “I’m not going to do anything until I hear that pretty little beg of yours…” he added, removing his hands from her body and loosening his emerald green tie, his school robes discarded at his side. Draco’s words sent shivers down (Y/N)’s spine, his low tone forcing her thighs together to provide some friction, something her observant boyfriend had taken note of. 

“Oi, where are your manners?” he retorted, gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. Fed up with her silence, Draco slapped his hand against her exposed ass cheek, the cold, silver rings decorating his fingers adding another layer of pleasure as she gasped harshly. “I’m not going to ask you again,” With that, Draco hooked his index fingers underneath the lacy fabric and yanked it down her ankles, her arousal on full display. 

“I-I’m- Please, Draco,” (Y/N) whined out, squeezing her thighs together in front of him, “I need you, please touch me..!” She begged, another gasp overtaking her as Draco swiped two fingers against her folds. 

“That’s a good girl,” He praised, dipping the press a kiss against the back of her neck, smirking at her moans as he finally inserted a finger inside of her, “Keep making those noises for me and I’ll reward you” demanded Draco, lowering himself onto his knees as he pumped his fingers. Flattening his tongue against her folds, (Y/N) let out a sensual moan, her hands reaching for the corners of the dresser in an attempt to anchor her shaking legs. Draco smirked as (Y/N) shuddered at the sudden loss of contact, rising to his feet while he fiddled with his belt, “Let’s get started then, shall we?” He stated, kicking his trousers away and gripping (Y/N)’s hips tightly, her skirt pushed up to her waist as he ground his erection against her needy core. 

As their moans and groans echoed throughout the empty room, Draco could not help but think about giving in to her requests more often. If all of them ended with her writhing and calling his name underneath him, he did not have any qualms with entertaining Potter and his friends for the afternoon.

[intheticklecloset]

The Great Academia Road Trip, Part 2 (My Hero Academia)

Primary Universe

Summary: On their first morning away from home, Deku and Aoyama meet in the early hours and wind up passing the time waiting for the others to wake up in an unexpected and playful way.

A/N: I feel like a genius for finding a way to combine these two prompts. I also consider myself a genius for finding a temporary solution to my "I hate titles" problem. Hahaha! Enjoy!

Word Count: 1,461

Part 1

~~~

“Good morning, Midoriya.”

Deku turned, smiling when he saw his sparkly blonde friend entering the bathroom they shared with the rest of the guys in their class. It was their first full day of activities on this training/vacation road trip they were on, and – as usual – Deku had been up earlier than most everyone else just out of habit. He’d thought to go ahead and get dressed and wash up before the rest of the guys woke and caused chaos with their limited space, so he was pleasantly surprised when his quiet morning was interrupted by one of his more relaxed classmates.

“Morning, Aoyama,” he replied. “Did you sleep well?”

“Oui.” Aoyama nodded, stretching his arms above him before turning on one of the faucets and splashing his face with cold water. “You?”

“Pretty good, actually.” Deku smiled. Thanks to Kacchan’s random tickle attack last night, any uneasiness he may have felt about sleeping in a new place had been all but eradicated. “I’m not sure what time we’re allowed in the lobby. Do you?”

“No, but if we are quiet I’m sure we couldn’t get into trouble for just looking to see, you know?”

“Right.”

Deku stepped outside to give Aoyama some privacy, and when they were both ready to go, they made their way down the hall of sleeping classmates and other hotel guests to the stairwell, where they poked their head down to see if anyone was moving about in the lobby yet.

It looked astonishingly empty.

“Perhaps it is too early?” Aoyama suggested.

Deku hummed thoughtfully, frowning. “I don’t know. I mean, it’s only an hour before we’re supposed to be up; don’t you think at least one of the teachers would be up by now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well…” Deku glanced around, then pointed to the landing halfway down the stairs where they’d be between the two floors. “Why don’t we sit down there until someone else shows up? That way we can talk without disturbing anybody, and when the lobby opens up we’ll see movement.”

Aoyama nodded. “Good idea.” He stretched again. “I slept well, but my back is sore.”

“Too used to the beds in our dorms?”

“Oui. In comparison, these bedrolls we use during travel are made of concrete.”

Deku chuckled. “They are a little harder, huh?” He watched as Aoyama stretched his arms above his head yet again, tilting from side to side to try and ease the soreness in his back. Deku felt an incredible urge to tickle him while he was exposed, but forced himself to stay put.

Then Aoyama groaned and placed both hands on his lower back. “Midoriya, I don’t suppose I could ask you for a favor?”

“Of course!”

“Would you mind massaging my back a little?” the blonde asked sheepishly, unable to make eye contact. “The muscles are so tense and I don’t think stretching is going to help.”

Deku smiled. “Totally. Here, lie down on your stomach. I’ll do what I can.” Once Aoyama had done as he was asked, Deku gently felt around his lower back, searching out the tense spots his friend was talking about. It didn’t take long at all to find them. “Whoa, Aoyama, you’ve got some serious knots of tension. What did you do? Sleep like a pretzel?”

“Some things cannot be explained, mon ami.”

Deku chuckled again. “Okay, well, just let me know if anything hurts too much. I’ll try and ease the pain for you.”

“Merci.”

For several minutes, Deku worked gently on Aoyama’s back, easing the knots of tension as best he could, massaging the area to ease the pain. He worked for almost ten minutes before checking in. “How’s that? Any better?”

“Much better,” Aoyama sighed contentedly. “I owe you one.”

“Not at all.” Deku hesitated, that urge to tickle him rising up again. Now that he was no longer in pain, it was definitely tempting…

Oh, what the heck? Deku lightly scribbled over Aoyama’s sides, grinning when the blonde yelped and slapped a hand over his mouth, rolling into his side with wide eyes.

“M-Midoriya?”

“Yes?” Deku asked innocently, slipping his hands under the blonde’s shirt to scratch at his lower ribs. “Are you still feeling pain?”

“N-No, y-you – Midoriya, stohohohop…” Aoyama let a couple of giggles loose, rolling onto his back and trying to sit up.

Deku straddled him. “But I think I feel more tension. Right here.” He kneaded his thumbs into the sides of his friend’s belly, right near his navel. When Aoyama’s stomach clenched with suppressed giggles, the green-haired boy nodded seriously. “Yep, there’s definitely tension. Let me work on that, too.”

“N-Nohohohoho! Midoriya!” Aoyama used on hand to cover his mouth and the other to try and push Deku away. “Thehehehere’s no tehehehension! Y-You’re tihihickling me! Plehehehease!”

“Tickling?” Deku exclaimed as though he’d never heard the word. “Is that why you’re giggling? Oh, that makes sense. Definitely.”

“Stohohohohohohop!”

“But I like making my friends laugh,” Deku teased, shooting one hand up into Aoyama’s underarm. Aoyama screeched and finally released his mouth, using both hands to push his assailant away as laughter poured from him freely. “Yeah, just like that!”

“Plehehehehehehease! Midoriya, stohohohohohop!”

Deku beamed, then climbed off of him, patting his knee. “Sorry, Aoyama. But you kept stretching in front of me and then you asked me for a massage and I really couldn’t resist.”

Aoyama kept giggling, catching his breath, and when he looked at Deku, there was a wicked glint to his eye that made the freckled boy both nervous and excited.

“You said you like making your friends laugh? Well, so do I.” The blonde grabbed Deku’s hip, and Deku slapped both hands over his mouth to keep from letting out a scream of laughter, falling back against the wall with Aoyama quickly climbing into his lap, trapping him so effectively he couldn’t move at all. He could only sit there and take it, and the sparkly teen was pressing his thumbs into Deku’s hips so deliberately.

“Please!” Deku squealed, trying his best to stay quiet as he dug his heels into the carpet and wiggled back and forth against the wall, fighting between his desire to cover up his boisterous laughter and his desire to push Aoyama away – or tickle him back again. “P-Plehehehease, not thehehehere, I’ll whahahahake everyone up!”

“Then you shouldn’t have tickled me while I was helpless to fight back,” Aoyama teased, grinning.

“But you wheheheheheren’t helpless - Aoyama nohohohohohohohoho!” Deku arched his back as much as possible when he found the hip bone, forcing the green-haired boy to thrash against the wall, finally pushing at Aoyama with desperate laughter bursting from his lungs. “PLEHEHEHEHEASE, NO, I’LL WAHAHAHAHAHAKE THE WHOLE HOTEL – AOYAMAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”

“Good morning, you two.”

The third voice put an abrupt end to the boys’ play, drawing their attention to the top of the stairs, where Shinsou stood with one hand in his jeans pocket as he began his descent.

“Sh-Shinsou!” Deku yelped, pushing Aoyama away now that he was distracted. The blonde tumbled off in a heap. “G-Good morning!”

“Having fun, Midoriya?” the purple-haired boy smirked, walking past him without waiting for an answer, continuing into the lobby.

“I – w-wait! We don’t know if we’re allowed—”

“Didn’t you read the handout?” Shinsou looked back up at the both of them once he’d reached the base of the stairs. “We’re allowed in the lobby after six in the morning, even if we’re not required to be up by seven. They start serving breakfast at six.”

Deku and Aoyama exchanged surprised glances.

“I take it neither of you have eaten yet?”

“No,” said Aoyama. “We were waiting for someone else to show up.”

Shinsou was silent for a long moment, looking between the two of them before his eyes settled on Deku. “Well…I’m here now. Do you…want to join me for breakfast?”

Deku leapt to his feet, nearly pulling Aoyama up with him. “Of course!”

Shinsou nodded, then kept walking.

Aoyama followed Deku down the rest of the stairs, but before they could get too far into the lobby, he pinched Deku’s ribs, making him squeak. “Just getting the last tickle in, Midoriya. You’d better be careful who you choose to tickle fight with.” The blonde winked at him. “I may not go so easy on you next time.”

That was going easy? Deku thought, a thrill shooting through him. He could still feel ghost tickles in his hips where the blonde’s hands had been just a minute before. Still, he couldn’t let Aoyama think he was intimidated. “I’d like to see you try and beat me in a tickle fight, Aoyama.”

The blonde smirked at him just as they caught up to Shinsou in the dining room. “Challenge accepted, mon ami.”

~~~

Part 3

[justkending]

The Number One Rule. Chapter 15.

Summary: Y/N has always been seen as “Steve’s rambunctious sister.” However, she grew up, graduated, and moved to London to study abroad for 4 years and get her bachelor's degree. The girl that returns looks nothing like the teenager that left, but don’t worry the attitude is still there and stronger than ever. What’s to come of the two grown adults that used to push each other's buttons, but now have a lot more in common than they’ve ever realized.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Y/N Rogers (Steve’s little sister)

Word Count: 3100+

A/N: Ladies and gentleman. This is in one of my top 3 chapters I’ve written in this series. The next one being my number 1;) I hope you enjoy and I would love any and all feedback you are willing to share!! xoxoxo

Chapter Fifteen:

Eventually when Bucky had snapped out of his thoughts, Y/N had long fallen asleep on him. He smiled down at her with a sad smile. One filled with remorse for everything she had gone through, but pride in how she handled it and didn’t let it destroy her. At least not to the extent that a lot of people get into.

She had years to do that, whereas Bucky was fresh on the subject. It would take him time to move on from that for her. He couldn’t help but feel hate for himself knowing exactly what party she was talking about. 

It was one of the few he and Steve didn’t attend. They had planned on it, but Dot wanted a quiet night in, and Steve just didn’t feel like it or something. It had been a while since that party, so he didn’t remember intricate details. 7 years to be exact. And the only reason he could guess which one it was, was because of how she acted after it. A whole month of depression and guilt she sat with and it showed. For the last 7 years Y/N had carried that with her. The only person she trusted to tell to this day was Beck. Now he was the other. 

He gathered her up in his arms, and she drowsily threw her own over his shoulders and hung on in a sleepy daze as he brought her up the stairs. He laid her in her bed, turned on her fan, and tucked her in. 

But as he stood to go back downstairs, her hand clasped around his. 

“Where y’ going?” she asked. The wine was playing a big part in the sleepiness and he could tell by her weak squeeze to his hand. 

“I’m just going to clean up downstairs. I’ll be back up in a second, sweetheart,” she nodded before giving him another squeeze to his hand and pulling the bed covers up to her cheeks. He smiled at her cute self and bent down kissing her forehead. He moved the strands of hair they fell over her eyes and studied her for a second. 

Eventually, he pulled away and went to do what he said. Popcorn kernels trashed and bowls cleaned. Leftover wine in the fridge and beer bottles recycled. He folded the blankets on the couch and set the pillows back in their original arrangement. Lastly, he went and checked to make sure all the doors were locked for the night. He had spent the night there enough to do a lock up without issues. 

Coming back upstairs, he changed into his own pajamas and snuck into the other side of the bed. Careful not to wake her, he gently and ever so softly, pulled her back to him. In her sleep, she turned to where they were face to face. Curling into his chest in comfort, trying to get as close as she could. 

He couldn’t hold in the chuckle that rumbled through his chest as she nuzzled under his chin. He ran his hand up and down her back and noticed her body relaxing with each stroke. He was glad he had that effect on her. It was the least he could offer after not being there for her in those hard times.

Now when he held her, he wasn’t just protecting her, but also trying to shield her from any more pain. He had been doing that his whole life for the family that the Roger’s had become to him. But now was different. This was a different kind of defense. This wasn’t just family protection. This was protection for someone you love. 

________________

The next morning, Y/N was the first to wake. She found herself practically embedded in Bucky’s arms. He had wrapped his giant self around her waist pulling her in close to his body. 

They had cuddled before, and even had a few sleepovers when Steve wasn’t in town, or if Becca wasn’t going to be home for the night and lent them her space. But it was only enough to count on one hand. That, plus, it never escalated to anything other than cuddling and maybe a makeout session here and there. 

Bucky had been gentle and patient in that area. Even if they hadn’t had that talk yet at that point, he didn’t push. Something she wasn’t used to in most of the guys she had dated. Pietro probably being the only other one that was understanding of it. 

Even if they had been dating a little over a month, she was glad they were taking it slow. Even if they had known each other their whole lifes. 

She somehow was able to turn in his arms and see a soft smile on his lips. He wasn’t awake, so he must have been dreaming of something nice. She took a second just breathing him in and trying to wrap her head around how all this came to be. 

Sure she had crushes on him growing up. I mean who doesn’t form a crush for your older brother's hot best friend. Though if she was being honest, she had always thought deep down that it was never a card that would be played in this game of life. 

Little did they know, it would just take time and growth. Then the fates would do with them what they will. Most card games were just a game of chance. You never know what’s going to come around the corner...

Eventually, she pulled herself away ever so gently and quietly to escape downstairs and make breakfast. She was still in her sleep shorts, but at some point took off her sweatshirt in the night from almost overheating. That plus the surprisingly excessive amount of body heat Bucky gave off made it hard to sleep with it on. 

She found a new one laying over her chair in the corner and threw it on before grabbing a hair tie and brushing her bed head up into a bun. 

Tiptoeing to the door, she slowly closed it leaving it open just a crack. 

Just as she took a step on the stairs, she heard the front door unlock and open. Freezing in her spot she waited a second. The only person who had a key besides their mom and her was…

“Hey, sis,” Steve said coming around the corner seeing her at the top of the stairs. 

“S-Steve,” she said in almost a whisper. Panic. Fear. Dread hit her at full force.“What, um, what are you doing here?”

“It’s Saturday and mom’s out of town, and I knew you were home alone. I thought I’d come over and we can go get breakfast or something,” he said with a sweet innocent smile. 

Running down the stairs a little quicker, she met him at the bottom. 

“Um, why didn’t you call? I would have gotten ready. I just woke up,” her voice was filled with anxiety and Steve noticed. 

“I thought I’d surprise you,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “You ok? You seem off?”

“Um, no. I’m fine. I just got a text from work that one of the projects they had me on needs to be done sooner than I expected.” How she came up with that lie on the spot like that? She had no idea, but she ran with it. “Yeah, not the best thing to wake up too. Making me a little nervous.”

“Oh, well do you want to go get breakfast and we can talk about it? I’ve barely heard about anything with your new job. We need to catch up, Mini,” he said, poking her stomach and making her let out a loud laugh, having always been super ticklish. 

Just seconds after that, having heard voices and a loud almost shout, Bucky swug open the door and peered down the stairway where they were both at the bottom. 

Two seconds. 

Two seconds was all it took for Steve to put two and two together in his head. Bucky acting weird lately. Sneaking off randomly and never telling Steve anything, which wasn���t like him in their friendship. Hell, he had even noticed Bucky’s lingering looks, but always put in the back of his mind thinking nothing of it. 

But now. Oh, he was thinking about something now. 

Bucky was frozen at the top of the stairs, eyes locked with Steve. To make matters worse, he only had pajama pants on and no shirt.

Even from the distance of the stairwell, Bucky could see the storm brewing in the blue eyes of his best friend. 

“Steve,” Y/N started placing a hand on his arm. 

The blonde immediately ripped away from her as he turned to fully face Bucky. The alpha male, big brother, pissed off best friend was in a stance ready to fight. 

“Why the FUCK did you just come out of my sister’s room half fucking naked?” Steve growled.

“Steve, you don’t know the full story,” Y/N said softly, but she could sense the tension and for once in her life, she was slightly scared to enter the fight. 

“The fuck I don’t know the full story,” Steve said finally whipping his head back to Y/N. His blue eyes were carrying a category 5 hurricane in those ocean blues. But they didn’t stay on her long as he turned back to Bucky. 

“Listen,” Bucky said, coming down slowly. 

“I don’t know if I want to,” he responded through his teeth. “Take one more step down here, and you’re going to need some serious dental work and a nose job.”

Bucky froze about 4-5 steps away from the siblings. Finally, he looked at Y/N, worry in his eyes, but they were also apologetic. 

Y/N immediately moved around Steve and stood between the two. Closer to Steve to try and hold him back if she needed to. 

“Now wait a damn minute,” she spoke up looking straight at her older brother even if he was sending a death glare past her shoulder. “You need to calm down before we talk-”

“No. You need to go to your room. Bucky and I need to talk,” he said in an authoritative voice. 

“Excuse me?” she retorted back. Her gentleness in the situation was fading and being replaced with aggravation. “Go to my room? Am I a 13 year old girl?” she said stepping in his eyeline so he was looking at her. 

“This isn’t a fucking joke, Y/N!” He shouted. “Go to your room!”

“No,” she replied, folding her arms across her chest. 

The two had this kind staring contest all the time growing up. Anytime there was a fight, they almost never relented with their stubborn asses. Their mom or dad had to send them to their rooms themselves and kept them there. The time ranging from 20 minutes to 5 hours before they calmed down. 

They were two of the most headstrong ornery people to live in this world. And it didn’t help that they were now pitted against each other. This kind of fight looked as if it could be ranging more into weeks or months. 

Knowing and experiencing situations like this with them before, Bucky spoke up again. 

“Y/N, you should listen to him. We need to talk,” he said sedately. 

“I leave and he’s going to beat your ass,” Y/N said, still staring at her brother. 

“I think he’s going to beat my ass either way,” Bucky mumbled. “Really Y/N. Just give us a second.”

“I’m a part of this equation too,” she said. Her tone easing just enough to be noticed. 

“Yes, you are. But right now, Steve and I need to talk first,” he said trying his best to defuse the fire against the heated situation happening in the entryway of their house. 

There were a few more seconds of silence as they glared at the other. 

“Fine, but I’m coming back down in 10 minutes,” she bartered. 

No one responded as she started to go up the stairs backwards. The staredown did not cease until she was even with Bucky on the steps. 

“If he does anything stupid, I’m going to beat his ass,” she said looking at Bucky. 

“I’m sure you will,” he said with a small smile that was forced for reassurance. 

She placed a hand on his shoulder. A silent good luck as they studied the other in a quick second. 

Turning back to look at Steve, she saw he was still in a rigid stance. The tension in his shoulders doing nothing but grow with every passing second. She would’ve sent him one more warning glare if he was looking, but his eyes were trained on Bucky with a look that could kill. 

Eventually she went into her room and shut her door, leaving it open just a crack. They deserved their privacy no matter how bad she wanted to step in. Deep down she knew, as best friends, they needed to talk on their own. 

Bucky looked back down and saw a bull looking at him like he was a red cape.

“Outside. Now,” Steve commanded before stomping off to the back and letting the screen door slam harshly. 

Letting out a long sigh and running a hand down his face, he finally went down the stairs. He grabbed a shirt from the bag he had left down there and headed to the backyard. Steve already in the grass pacing. 

“Steve,” Bucky said softly as he walked down the porch steps barefoot. 

Instantly, a fist collided with his face. He stumbled trying his best to not fall from the impact. When he looked up, grasping his jaw, he sent a glare to Steve. 

“I’m not saying I don’t deserve that, but-”

“Oh, you deserve a lot more than that, but I need you to explain what the HELL I just walked into and you can’t do that with no teeth,” Steve glowered. 

Looking at him while straightening his posture he wiggled his jaw some feeling just a tad bit of blood on his lip. Damn him for teaching Steve how to make a proper swing like that. 

“You gonna punch me again before I talk, or can I fucking explain myself now?” No response, only a stare was given. “Ok, so I’ve been hiding something from you.” Steve raised an eyebrow. 

“You think?”

“Listen, I’m almost as taken aback as you. One day, she’s like a little sister running around with my actual sister, and the next she's a mature grown adult who knows what she wants, exudes confidence, and is intelligent beyond measure.” He paused before adding. “Not that we didn’t know that.”

“I know what my sister is. What I want to know is why you’re sleeping with her?” Steve said, taking a step closer. 

Bucky just straightened up more as if expecting another hit. But then he processed Steve’s sentence. 

“Sleeping with her?” he questioned almost in shock. Steve not breaking his gaze. “I’m not fucking sleeping with her, asshole! I’m dating her.”

The smallest amount of tension released from Steve’s body and his face wasn’t frowning as much.

“You’re dating?” 

“Yes. Dating.”

“So you guys haven’t-”

“No. I’m a little upset that you think that low of me,” Bucky scoffed. “You think I would really just start booty calling my best friend's sister? If I wanted a friend with benefits, I can easily find a girl at a bar,” he said, taking a deep breath and running a hand through his hair. “You’re sister isn’t a girl from a bar, Steve.”

Steve was silent processing it. He still wasn’t happy, but at least it wasn’t as bad as had thought. 

“Listen, Y/N’s been in my life just as long as she has been in yours. We’ve grown up together, created childhood memories together, picked on each other, and protected each other. She would be the last person on this earth I would want to degrade to a one night stand. She deserves so much more than that.”

“Exactly,” Steve said. 

Bucky paused taking note of Steve’s tone. “Exactly? Why do you say it like that?”  

“I mean she deserves a lot,” he said, confirming Buck’s thought. 

“I see. So I don’t make the cut?” Bucky said, now getting frustrated. The silence was enough of an answer to his question. “Wow. 26 years of being best friends and you think that little of me?”

“She’s my sister,” Steve answered. A slight tone of apology behind his words, but he kept the stoic face. 

“Yes, Steve she is! And 2+2= 4! We know this!” he said waving his arms and scoffing as he turned in his spot before turning back. Hands on his hips before one came up and ran a hand through his slight beard. 

“You know what? Screw this. I’m not going to sit here and be that guy that says, ‘Yeah, you’re right. She doesn’t deserve me. I’m not good enough for her.’ You know why, Steve? Because I know that. And it’s because I know that, that I’m going to strive with every muscle in my body and every might of my being to make sure I can be that for her one day. To make sure I can give her everything and more that she deserves. To make sure she never has to see a sad day again. To make sure she only experiences joy if I have any say. To make absolutely sure that no one ever hurts her. Why? Because I love her!”

Out of breath, Bucky chest heaving up and down showed how hard his lungs were working to get air back in them. 

Steve’s posture had almost gone back to normal. The anger no longer there. Whatever emotion he was feeling, Bucky couldn’t tell. 

“How long?” Steve asked. 

“What?” Bucky asked, confused. 

“How long have you loved her?” he repeated, looking down at the ground. 

Bucky paused. He couldn’t actually answer that. There was no specific time frame. Truth was he had loved her for a while. 

“Honestly, longer than I know... It’s just taken me this long to figure out that’s what this feeling was.”

Steve nodded his head as he put his hands in his pockets and continued to stare at the dirt by his feet. 

“Ok.”

Taken aback, Bucky's eyes widened. 

“Ok?” 

“Yeah. Ok,” Steve repeated before he started walking to the back fence that led to the driveway. 

“Wait. You’re just going to leave it at 'Ok,’ and walk away?” Bucky rushed over to stop him. 

Steve slowly turned from staring at the ground and then back at him. 

“You know, I thought that we were close enough that you could come to me with this kind of thing. That you wouldn’t feel like you had to hide it from me. Y/N and you both,” he said with pursed lips. “Guess I was wrong.” 

With that he turned back and walked to his car. Bucky watched as he started the engine, pulled out, and disappeared. 

What the hell kind of mess just happened?

(Tags for this series will be closing soon as it is getting pretty full, please send an ask if you want to be added:)

I’ll post on whatever chapter I decided to close it down here.

The Number One Rule (TNOR) Taglist:

@shadowolf993 @hello-i-am-daydreaming @jessyballet  @emmabarnes @kmuir1  @beautifulrare4leafclover @thefallenbibliophilequote @l0ve-0f-my-life  @shawnie--jo​ @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @asoftie4bucky​ @katiaw2​ @sheeple​ @sznri​ @bxtchboy69​ @taliarosej00​ @bakugouswh0r3​ @stopjustlovethemcu​ @babemendesxz​ @jenniereiji​ @taliarosej00​ @loveyou5everr​ @natdrunk​ @im-a-light-child​

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon​ @lauravicente​ @kakakatey​ @traceyaudette​ @notyourtypicalrose​  @laneygthememequeen​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @sandlee44​ @thorne93​ @thefaithfulwriter​ @marvelfansworld @essie1876​ @greyeyedsmile14​ @capsiclehan​  @xostephanie​ @averyrogers83​ @awesomenursingstudent​ @gh0stgurl​ @cs-please​ @carls1022​ @jjlevin​ @rainbowkisses31​ @carls1022​ @anise-d-castle6​ @deannotmoose​ @their-bibliophile​ @kitkatd7​ @willowbleedsonpaper​ @mariaenchanted​ @snffbeebee​ @couldabeenamermaid​ @rebekahdawkins​

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@morganclaire4​ @chloe-skywalker​ @charmedbysarge​ @jbarness​ 

@bellamy-barnes

​

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx​ @death-unbecomes-you​ @heyiamthatbitch​ @lizzymacy555​ @iheartsebastianstan @srrymydood​ @xa-dia​ @redhairedfeistynerd​ @morganclaire4​ @connie326​ @captain-asguard​ @mollygetssherlockcoffee​ @teenagedreams-bucky​

[kaetchup]

kaoru hakaze idol story 1

an idol story of kaoru’s! as usual, already localized on engstars, and i’ve made some minor tweaks/redone translation from the localization for readability.

♪ obligatory disclaimer! none of this is mine, i’m just sharing it for my love of our idol boys. all content belongs to happy elements ♪

in the ES lobby

kaoru: All right~ Let’s work hard today ♪

Good morning~! I’m Kaoru Hakaze from UNDEAD~!

… Wait, what?!

(Oh no! Why’s “she” here at the reception desk at ES?)

(She looks so normal sitting there that I almost said hello!)

(I mean, what’s wrong with a hello? Why did I even hide?)

(She must have heard me. Look, she’s curiously looking around!)

(O-of course. I can’t walk in like that… What should I do? No, you idiot! At this point, there’s no point in panicking!)

(All I need to do is say a quick hello, check in, and proceed to the studio!)

(Ugh… I don’t want to face her.)

(Anzu… Though we work in the same building, I’ve been avoiding her because it’s awkward, so it’s been a while since I’ve last seen her.)

(She’s getting prettier and prettier. Her days must be so youthful and busy…)

(Saying hi would be great for her… But what should I do? My heart is beating so fast…)

(Ugh, come on! Am I some character who blushes at the mere sight of girls?!)

(Still, it’s a weekday today and Anzu is supposed to be at school. Why’s she here in ES this early in the morning?)

(And I don’t see why a producer like her should be sitting at the front desk…)

(Ugh, I’ll be late if I don’t hurry up and get to the studio…)

(I don’t want to ask for trouble, especially because UNDEAD’s in a delicate state now at ES…)

(On the other hand, I want to reunite with Anzu more romantically…)

(I have to ask my friend for help! It’s an emergency!)

(H-hello? Rei? Can you do me a quick favor…?)

in the ES stairwell

(I’m saved! Yep, that’s Rei… I think he did exactly what I asked!)

(Looks like he opened the emergency exit to the building.)

(Rei doesn’t like to help others out, though, so I feel a bit embarrassed…)

(But he’s got no common sense and it’s me who’s always taking care of him, so we’re even now.)

(That’s what helping each other means, right?)

(Anyway, now I can safely avoid the front desk and go to the back door. Phew, that was close.)

(I’ll make an excuse like “I forgot” and check in later after she’s gone.)

(... Eek! The door to the lower level- the door to the emergency staircase opened! Who’s that? Anzu?)

(Err… But why? WHy is she coming up the stairs with a suspicious look? I-I gotta run!)

in the ES hallway

(... Argh, seriously! I’m exhausted.)

(What’s happening? I don’t get it at all. Well at least I can now make it safely to the studio, I suppose.)

(I hope it’s over. Something doesn’t sit right, but what else can I-)

Eek!

Hey, you gave me a start! What… Huh? Anzu?

Wh-what are you doing behind my back? Don’t sneak up on me, okay? I nearly screamed!

(... No, that’s not what I meant. Jeez, come on! Where are all the cool lines I prepared for our reunion?)

(I forgot them all!)

Well, what… Oh, I’m supposed to call you “Producer”, not by your name, right?

Still… We’ve finally gotten close to each other, so don’t you think that’s too formal?

What? You don’t think we’re close? Because it seems like I don’t like you…?

No, no, that’s definitely not the case! I like you a lot, really ♪ Why would you think that?

It’s because I’d hide or run away whenever I see you…?

Oh, so you’ve noticed. How observant, Miss Producer ☆

But that’s not what I meant! There’s no way I could dislike you! I-I have a reason for that!

What reason, you say? Miss Producer, a-are you mad at me? You look scary! Come on and smile, okay? ♪

(Ugh, I can’t tell her the truth!)

(I’m supposed to make a cool and mature impression, and she’d be completely disappointed to know that I was like some lovesick schoolboy!)

Um, but may I keep it a secret? Everyone has one or two personal issues, you know?

It’s more mature not to pry, you see.

Oh, haha, maybe you don’t know because you’re still young.

Huh, “that’s alright”? You want me to at least check in?

Oh, so you went after me because I didn’t check in, right?

But hey, why are you even at the reception desk? Did someone make you?

That won’t do, you know~? You need to properly say no to things you don’t want to do.

What? You say it’s none of my business? True, but I’m worried about you~ So I put you in a bad mood, right, Anzu?

… Oh, you’re leaving already? Because you gave me the key card, and you can’t leave the front desk empty?

Hm, producer courses start in the afternoon, so you came here to ES in the morning…

You took the receptionist to the infirmary because that kid felt under the weather, and you took their place for the time being?

That’s so kind of you. I like that about you a lot ♪

Hey, wait! Don’t leave without a word! Are you really that mad at me?

Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude… Let me apologize! Please, Anzu~?

[bubblyani]

The Letter

(Melvin Purvis x Reader)

A Melvin Purvis One Shot

Fandom: Public Enemies (2009) Michael Mann

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 6.6k+

Summary: The day when the FBI plans to catch John Dillinger, you finally write a letter full of undisclosed affections to Melvin Purvis, the love of your life. 


Author’s Note: Please note, this is all based on the fictionalized version of the character played by Christian Bale. It was a challenging concept but very happy with the outcome. Maybe I’m just “Bumping Gums*” but, hope y’all enjoy!!

“What are you thinking about?”

That familiar, male voice inquired. Cool yet affectionate; lingering in the darkness long enough for a female voice to hum before responding:

“Me? just things…” she began, her voice comprised of a much greater familiarity above all others, “Things I wanna say to you. I…” a chuckle arose, “It’s silly but…” she inhaled deep, “I just want to, write them down…for you”  

“What?…like in a letter?”

“Uh huh!”

“Why? I’m right here” Her giggles seasoned his genuine curiousity,“It’s not the same. I…” she inevitably paused, “I’m just shy” as softness smeared over her tone. “Oh…” he decided to follow suite, “…somehow I don’t believe that” with his words exiting in the form of purrs, the two pairs of lips finally met. The kiss, it was chaste. Yet the sound remained crisp. And the shared chuckles that soon followed, were crispier. Audibly vivid at its finest.

Sheer pity, for it merely was a memory. Such a pity, for it vanished the very second your eyes dared to open.

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

(1934)

A heavy sigh left your lips in disappointment. Arms folded, your right index finger wandered over your silk robe, in detail. It had no other option, especially when your lips could not indulge his own, when your eyes could not indulge the only loving gaze that truly mattered. Thus, there you were, running your fingers over the silk of harsh reality. Nothing to imagine, nothing to relive.

All the while you stood, staring at the door ahead. The door from where he just left.

It was a lazy afternoon, and anxiousness had found its way deep into your bloodstream. Woken nerves, uneasy stomach, the pounding heart with great speed and clarity. Harsh reality had turned to the worse, grabbing you by the shoulders, only to force you to stare deep at it.

Face the facts, it uttered. But which part of you wanted to do so?

Though being the sole occupant in the room, your pounding heartbeat did not fail to drown your very own hearing. This feeling, you despised it, to the core. If only it would stop.

Until it finally did. But only when you spun back around in a split second. For you decided to take action on it instead.

Planting yourself firm on the wooden desk, hands were occupied in the hurried dance as drawers were pulled, and stashes of paper were grabbed and dropped out before you. But once the hands found their way to a beautiful pen inside, all actions reduced pace. Holding it with care, your eyes grew warm by the mere sight. For the pen, it was a symbol of things a many, and one in particular. The one which cost you a heavy sigh, before opening the cap and let the pen make take its course on the paper. And just like that, you finally wrote down two words. Two out of the many your heart ached to speak into existence:

Dear Mel…

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - The sigh that followed soon after, was relieving. It was liberating. In truth, even a smile seemed possible. Hence, your intentions were clear.

“Dear Mel…” leaning forward, you read it out with warmth. For you were prepared to permit the ink to reunite with the paper once again, and linger on a little longer:

Looks like I finally found a reason to sit down and write this letter to you. Honestly, I feel like laughing, cause I never thought I’d end up doing this. 


Chuckling to oneself, you proceeded to write:

But I know if I don’t do this now, I would regret it. Cause now I finally know you deserve to read every last bit of my thoughts and feelings. All that I have hidden for too long. Before it’s too late.

Seeing you walk out that door wasn’t anything new. But when you did it this afternoon, it felt different. My heart, it felt something. It was heavy! That’s the word. Was I worried? afraid? I don’t know. All I know was that, it was too much. Enough for me to remember your effect on me.

Those words may have been generalized, yet you were astounded by the comfort you sensed when writing them. Inhaling deep, you kept on:

You were not a man I expected to ever meet in my life, Melvin Purvis. Never for one second. Out of all the folks here in Chicago, why would we ever meet? Whatever reason it was, I am very thankful. I am very thankful I opened my door to the hallway that night.

And I am thankful for Mr. Lloyd, and for that man in the navy blue coat.

Your words, they brimmed with sincerity. Looking up from the paper, you couldn’t help but stare into the wall. It was simply inevitable. Especially when every bit of detail began to flow into your consciousness, only to unfold the memory of that fateful night in your mind.

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

Chick Webb’s “Blues in my Heart*” playing in the radio, certainly did not fail to mirror your heart to perfection. For the melancholia was mutual. And the dim lights illuminating the apartment in the late evening, seemed to have sealed the emotion shut.

Memorable was your deep sigh, along with warm cup of tea that rested on your hands:

“I figured he, of all people would vouch for me, but instead he just…hung up” You remembered uttering, tone enriched with sadness whilst imitating a telephone being disconnected.

“Well…” a gruff voice began, “…if I were your Old man, I would never pull that nonsense”

You looked up, to set your eyes over at your neighbor Wilmer Lloyd, sitting across from you in his pajamas. A spritely gentleman in his late seventies, Lloyd was the friend, who in time became the father figure you wished you had.

Amused by his temper filled response, You chuckled with disbelief:

“Mr. Lloyd, your daughter had to move to another city, cause you didn’t like the fella she wanted to marry” you replied, “No need for the unnecessary kindness” adding with a smile, you proceeded to take a sip of the hot beverage.

“What kindness? she is no good kid like you. She married a goon*! ” Lloyd responded in defense, leaning forward with conviction, “While your Pops is just mad cause you’re trying to be a Secretary”

“I bet you a Lincoln* that my folks rather have me marry a goon, than have me find my own way of living”  you said, gulping down the rest of the tea.

“Don’t jinx it, kid” the old man grunted, his index finger pointed right at you, “I don’t wanna hate you too”

You laughed out loud. Truthfully, you were relieved to have finally did. The room felt too depressing for too long.

“Alright, kid. I’m beat” the old man sighed, pushing himself up to stand with a grunt. “Goodnight, Mr.Lloyd” You stood alongside him. The two parted ways, with you making your way over to the kitchen, and your neighbor making his way out. As if it was so habitual. For a daily chat with old Wilmer Lloyd, was indeed habitual.

Your first proper encounter with Lloyd was a special one. It was only a few months ago that you moved into Chicago. Stressful work shifts and lack of friends led to an eventual emotional breakdown one fine evening. A seemingly noticeable one, which caused the usually moody Lloyd to peep through his door, only to find you bawling your eyes out in the hallway. The sight of you kneeling before your apartment door in tears, was more than enough for his cold heart to melt, and to voice his concern. All while he helped you gather the groceries that had fallen out of your brown paper bag.

“We all gotta start somewhere, kid”

That phrase of comfort, was the invisible handkerchief that wiped your tears that day. And as you rinsed the tea cup, that phrase managed to return to your consciousness, being an invisible hand to pat you on the shoulder. Closing the tap, you sighed with relief. For you were once again thankful for the good in humanity.

Until the sound of a gunshot attacked your ears.

Clinging on to the sink with a jump, you felt your heart beat out loud, and there was no stopping. Before any was comprehended, a loud groan soon followed, originating from the Hallway. Your eyes widened. Could it be?

“Mr.Lloyd…” you breathed, as your legs finally made you dash towards the door to open. You gasped out loud, the moment you found Wilmer Lloyd sprawled on the floor, shot.

“Oh my god!…” you whispered, kneeling beside him.

But Lloyd lost your attention for a slight second, for you caught the sight of a man disappearing into the right-side stairwell. The sight was quick and blurry, yet it was evident he was armed. And one particular color was prominent as he left.

The groan repeated, forcing you to focus on Lloyd once again. Which was most important.

“A-are you alright?” A meek inquiry was all that you could do.

“WHAT DOES IT LOOK LIKE, KID?” The old man answered in pain, shifting. Slight relief washed over you, when you noticed he was only shot in the arm. Perhaps it was your heartbeat, or a new set of pounding footsteps nearby. Either way, the sounds grew louder from the left.

“Freeze! Chicago Police-” A voice, a male voice cried out, only to pause, causing you to look over, only to freeze.

Lowering his pistol, a well dressed man stood, surrounded by two others. All in suits and fedoras, and all seemingly alarmed by the sight of you and Lloyd.

“Is he alright, Ma’am?” The first man inquired. “I’m fine. Jesus!” Lloyd responded with annoyance. The man nodded with acknowledgement. Although there was slight embarrassment in the his face, you were simply too distracted by the cool nature of his voice.

“I know this is the wrong time but…” the man uttered, “…but did you see-”

“The shooter? ” you began all the sudden, “…in a navy blue coat? He went that way” pointing towards the right, you added. The muscles of the man’s tensed face relieved.

“Thank you, ma’am…” he breathed, before making a dash, “Boys! Take this man to the hospital” his commanding voice trailed behind him, indicating Lloyd. All before he himself disappeared into the stairwell.

And to your luck, the two able bodied youngsters knelt over the old man to do the needful. “The bullet is still inside. He’s gonna be alright, ma’am”

“Thank god! You heard him, Mr.Lloyd” you said, “Let’s go”

“Eh…” Lloyd muttered, holding the wound whilst being carried, “Not that I’m overjoyed about getting shot, but I gotta say I’m more than happy to know I’m not gonna die tonight” he grunted. To which you finally smiled behind him:

“Not in a million years…”

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

The sound of loud sirens shattered your trail of reminiscence. Sirens, you gasped. For they suddenly brought you worry. Was he in trouble already?

Parting from the pen and paper, your hands pushed you to rise and scurry towards the window. Except you merely saw a youngster getting his ear pulled by an angry policeman, for fiddling with the police car siren.

You clutched your chest, sighing with relief to see. The fact that daylight yet reigned supreme was also sufficient evidence for you to rationalize your new-found relief. He was safe, wherever he was.

Returning to the desk, you picked up the pen. Glancing at it with affection, you proceeded to write once more:

Because of the accident that night, I found myself meeting a man who fascinated me instantly. So , you could understand how frustrated I was when I couldn’t even thank him.

You smirked upon those words. Not soon before you continued writing:

But then again, who knew I would have the actual luck to see him again two days later? At a place where I least expected. All thanks to a Bad Customer.

Akin to a Moving Picture, or a Talkie*, that very moment began to project into your memory. All the while your index finger managed to twirl a piece of your hair with nostalgia.

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

“Apparently it was just some low level goon. Well, at least that’s what the Police told Mr.Lloyd…when they took his statement. But I don’t buy it, no. Why would those Federal Agents be there if it was?…”

You said, tying up the white, cotton waist apron over your baby blue waitress uniform.  

“Goodness! I really wouldn’t know what I would have done if I were you, Sweetpea” Cathy, your best friend replied while she followed suite.

Once the hair was fixed, the two of you headed to the kitchen, “Everyone! Look who’s changed her shift!” Cathy cried out, urging the other employees at the Diner to focus on you. There were cheers, bringing out the brightest smile in you. It was official.

Living with the Great Depression which has affected all, you were grateful even for the employment at a Diner in the city. A temp job, as you called it yourself. Until that very morning, you were assigned to the later shift and spent several weeks parted from Cathy. Fortunately, upon your boss’ satisfaction, you were finally offered the shift you always wished for: The morning shift.

You graciously used the first hour that morning for familiarization, which mainly included the customers. And that was indeed the part that fascinated you. For the customers were diverse with each shift. And the mornings were mostly welcomed by blue collar workers.

“Cathy! They’re waiting for the pancakes” 
“Oh! Shoot! I’m on it”

Listening to Cathy’s response in the background, you shook your head with amusement. You watched your friend waltz over to the eagerly waiting booth. But only before you made your way to the corner of the Diner counter.

“Can I help you, Sir?” A well rehearsed phrase exited your painted lips with politeness. A young man was the current owner to the corner seat. “A refill” the blonde haired drawled, indicating his empty, white mug on the counter. “Right away” “Thanks, Sweetheart” he replied, whilst the sound of the black coffee being poured, filled your ears. A group of eyes watched you from another corner. It was certain. And sure enough, your stealthy eyes caught the sight of some men sat across the diner. All sniggering. “Ya know…” the Blondie continued as he leaned forward, “my boys over there…” he indicated the suspicious group, “…they don’t believe me but, I think you’re one fine girl, sweeter than sugar” he said, flashing a flirtatious smile. “Oh, really?” You inquired with a polite chuckle. “Cross my heart, I hope to die” He was handsome, yes. But he was the handsome you never wanted. The type of handsome that could also break your heart. Besides, his attempt of seduction was misdirected, “So…um…” leaning closer, he began to whisper, “Care to help me prove the boys wrong? Like with a date? Or even a kiss? ” He inquired, his suggestive eyebrows being quite evident.

Oh, that fool, you thought. If you were at liberty to throw your head back in laughter, you would without any hesitation. Yet, it would not be appropriate.

“Ah! I’m sorry Sir, but I’m working” you replied.

“Aww come on!” He groaned, to which you shook your head and took a step back.

“Sorry Sir-Ah!” Except he grabbed you tight by the wrist. And displeasure was the mask he wore.

“Hey now, is that the way you treat your regulars here?” He inquired, increasing volume. Confused and very violated, your heart rate began to speed up. You sensed a threat.

“Let go, Sir!” You muttered in desperate politeness. Yet he did not.

“Why?” He sniggered, amidst your struggle to break free, “Whatcha gonna do, sugar?”

“I believe the lady asked you to let go”

That voice. A voice you could identify. A voice that forced you and Blondie to turn heads. Your eyes widened. Dressed smart and completed with his Fedora, the FBI agent from two nights ago stood before you both. Authoritative yet graceful, he sighed:   “Pardon me for intruding, but I know a Regular won’t harass a waitress this way” he said in a casual tone, to which Blondie stood up: 
“Yeah?” He snarled, offended, “How would YOU know about being Regulars, smart ass?” “Cause I am one” The Agent answered, before missing Blondie’s surprise punch, only to twist his arm within seconds.

Cries of pain erupted from the young man’s lips, until he was pulled close by the agent. You watched him whisper some words to Blondie’s ear, all before he finally released him. Confidence was nowhere nearby when the blonde man stashed some cash onto the counter, and stumbled towards his group of boys with fear.

You suddenly heard Cathy’s sigh of relief nearby: 
“Oh, Thank god you’re here, Mr.Purvis” She said to the Agent, “You just saved my friend” she motioned towards you.

Finally you had the liberty to observe him. Tall and lean with sharp facial features, he possessed the handsome that comforted you. The handsome that formed potential in you. The handsome that attracted you. Sitting on the now empty seat, he flashed you a cool smile: “Melvin Purvis” he said, “I believe we haven’t had the pleasure…” It seemed he did remember you. You smiled back. “No, we haven’t…” you replied with softness, as you held up the pot, “Coffee?”

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

And who knew the man that fascinated me, would be you?

I am not ashamed to say, I was over the moon to see you again, Mel. Seeing you for only a few seconds in the hallway, clearly wasn’t enough for me. I was greedy. So greedy I was afraid to admit. But the moment I realized that corner seat in the counter was your usual spot, I knew my greed was not in vain. I was greedy, to get to know someone so badly. So, when you saved me from Blondie, you also saved yourself a spot in my heart. I just didn’t know it at that moment.

But I do remember when I finally did.

When one serves a regular customer long enough, certain facts become known. Be it their usual breakfast order, their favorite beverage, or the guilty pleasure one indulges once in a while. But apart from that, conversation comes into play as well.

I don’t think you knew how happy you made me every time we talked, even while you had your Eggs and Toast. Whatever it was, I enjoyed them all. All topics, from about the mouthy janitor, to the famous FBI cases, which were solved or ongoing. But I was also happy when you also had the time for me, to know about my crazy stories about customers in the late shift, or even just about myself. Which surprised me the most.

You finally became aware of the smile you wore throughout writing. Though you managed to relax your facial muscles, the smile remained at default. Thus, you kept on with your words:

Mel, you made me look forward to work everyday. And that was one huge favor. Waitressing was never this girl’s dream. Another job was. And you know what.

“I know…” you remember saying, as you wiped the Diner counter, “Secretary, A Nice Office…Even my own folks think it’s a silly dream for a girl like me-”

“That doesn’t mean its your truth” Mel, your calm, unfazed reply, those words shook me. You were right. You made me feel braver. You made me want to work harder. You made me feel like anything was possible. And that was when, I finally saw that special spot you had in my heart. Oh Mel, it felt like an earthquake in here. I was affected. I couldn’t even sleep that night. Cause that spot of yours made me realize, I had fallen for you. Fallen in love with you.

Placing your left palm over your chest, it did not take you long to relive that magical feeling whilst you wrote:

Suddenly, I couldn’t look you in the eye anymore. And I’m sorry for that. I may have looked busy with customers for some days, but that was me struggling. I was at a war with myself. A constant battle with my eyes to not care for you more, a battle with my lips to not tell you, how much I pined for you.

But as you remember, I finally did.

And the morning when you did, felt to be a landmark of your bravery.

Upon serving his breakfast, you retreated to the kitchen with haste. The fact you did not even acknowledge Melvin’s usual “Thank you” proved strangeness. Generally, when employees were seen standing at the back entrance of the Diner, one would expect them to be occupied with a personal matter, or even have a smoke break. Except, you simply longed for a break from him.

Seeing Purvis was torture. And that morning felt more torturous than ever. Your desire for him multiplied with every single visit.

Rubbing your forearms to fight off the spring chill, You took a deep breath. What was that you feared? Confessing your feelings? Or the mere possibility of being refused?

“What are you doing? Out here in the cold?” You gasped, looking up to find Melvin standing before you.

“I-” you paused, as Melvin took off his long coat, and slung it over your shoulder with no hesitation. A warmth protected you all the sudden. Was it the coat? Or was it him?

“Are you unwell?” He inquired. You shook your head, not taking too long to finally settle your eyes on his. And there it was: the speeding pulse, the torture, the multiplication of desire. Eyes growing wider with concern upon your speechless look, Melvin shot glances at both directions with stealth: “Is anyone bothering y-”

Only to be intruded by your lips pressed against his.

Oh, Mel! What did you do to me?

With a deep shudder, you kept writing: Why did your lips taste like the sweetest pie in all the world? I’m sorry if my ink turns messy here. It’s just that thinking about it, I just hope my heart won’t burst and bleed. Tasting that sweetness, I was ready to risk it all. Ready to accept the worst fear to come true.

You had a fair point. Especially when his lips remained unmoved throughout your kiss. Which forced you to move back quick, and blush with embarrassment: “I-I’m sorry…” you blurted, struggling with one’s movements as you handed over his coat back and turned to leave. 
“No! please…” Melvin breathed, stopping you with his hand on your shoulder, “I’m sorry…” he stressed, “I suppose I was just caught by surprise” with a chuckle soon after. “Believe me, it wasn’t planned” you chuckled alongside him, relaxing a little. “Although I was hoping…” he began, “If I could take you to dinner one night…” Your eyes widened, but your heart bloomed.

But life was kind enough to gift me a date instead. A date with the best man I know.

“Yes! You can…” you answered immediately, “And please…no need to call me Ma’am anymore, Mr. Purvis” you smiled. To which he smiled back with a hint of mischief, which seemed surprising for the 30 year old Agent:

“Then, there’s no need to call me Mr. Purvis anymore either”

A date that I had always dreamt about. Not with a boy, but with a real gentleman. It had come true. Were you reading my thoughts this entire time?

Bashful giggles erupted from your lips upon writing. It was a date to remember :The fancy restaurant, the fine dining, the stimulating conversation basked in soft jazz and candlelight. Watching and taking in every fine line that adorned his beautiful, statuesque face brought you pride.

Sitting with you, getting lost in our own world, it was no doubt that I was the luckiest woman in the entire restaurant that night.

“I had a wonderful time, Mel. Thank you” Your words were enveloped with warmth and sincerity.

It was late, and Melvin had brought you back home like the gentleman he was. Opening the car door for you, he surprised you with just a smile, no other reply. Which forced you to raise your eyebrows, evidently confused. Could it be that he did not share the exact sentiments as you? Were you not the woman he hoped for by the end of the night? Insecurity began to bubble up within.

“What?” You inquired with a nervous chuckle, “All night you were yapping away, but now suddenly cat got your tongu-”

He gently pushed you against the car. Just so his gracious hands could cup your face, and just so he could plant his lips on yours.

And I was also the luckiest woman in the neighborhood, when you finally kissed me right back.

Sweetness infused with softness, you needed not permission to be fueled with greed at last. For greed finally permitted you to wrap one’s arms around his neck, only to pull him closer. Those lips of his, they had tempted you from the very first moment. And when they finally voluntarily expressed their affection, you were more than ecstatic.

Mel, your kisses were magic. They made me wish if I had all the power in the world to slow down time.

And I felt the very same, when we finally made love that night.

That night, that mere memory. You would be lying if it did not manage to send chills down your spine.

Invitation for a nightcap was your only shameless excuse. For not a single cell of your being, wanted him to leave your sight. Not when he had lit up a flame of desire in you, a few minutes prior. You silently cursed all the passerby’s who forced you both to pull away from the kisses. The kisses that he started by the car. But what could you do? You were surrendered to the laws of love.

Thus, the mere act of turning on the Crosley* Radio, became an involuntary act of seduction. Rudy Vallee’s “If I had a Girl like You*” filtering out from the speakers, gave life to the entire apartment. And it did ever the same to you, tempting you to sway your body from side to side. But your body felt so much vigor, when Melvin gave up on patience, only to hold you by the waist, spin you around just so his hungry lips could taste yours once again.

Melvin kissed you, and you kissed him. Slow, articulate, these lips were making up for every day they did not touch one another. All those days full of remorse.

Thus, began a dance between the two lovers. Heated, passionate. A dance consisting of choreography that had existed within all of mankind. Did not matter if it was carrying you bridal style to the bed, or placing you on to the bed without a sound much louder than a mattress squeak, either way, Melvin’s presence exuded safety.

Pleasure and excitement were in a fiery alliance when you savored shedding every piece of clothing off his torso. Never once did you think seeing many layers would bring you so much arousal. Especially when his eyes had nowhere else to look but at you during. His eyes, they burned with desire. And you would be unfaithful to your honesty if you denied the loins that burned within you as a result. For it was evident how much you longed for him. How the hunger led you to provide him the attention he truly deserved with your touch and kisses.

Dressed, he was smart, authoritative. Undressed, he was god-like. And to hear his soft moans amidst your attention was a gift. A gift that aroused you further. Yet before your eager hands could fondle his hardened shaft, he flipped you with impatience to focus on you instead. His kisses were other-worldly, making sweet contact on your soft, naked skin, creating waves of untold pleasure whenever he peeled off each piece of lingerie. Naked you may have been finally, yet you were more than ecstatic with the new outfit you wore: him. The infusion of soft music, sounds of lovers moans and kisses while the bedsheets rustled, were indeed sweeter than nectar. Tantalizing enough for him to finally enter you. Arousing enough for you to accept him. Resulting in unity, love making, deeming soft as the moonlight that shone into the bedroom. Soft, yet impactful that every second remained carved in your mind fresh, like it was yesterday.

Oh Mel, how did your touch made me weak, but gave me power at the same time? How did you make every second of it worthwhile?

You wrote with a sigh, blushes occupying your cheeks. Not before you cleaned up your ink stained fingers, caused by your thoughts of pure distraction.

Why did you get me addicted to your loving? But most importantly, why were you the perfection I dreamt of all along?

Breathless, you would be lying if it did not take you a while to regain your senses. Re-reading the previous sentence written, you proceeded to give the letter further life: 


After that night, I wanted shout out loud from the rooftops full of happiness, I wanted to tell the entire city, no! The entire world of my blessing: My blessing to have a wonderful man like you, Mel.

The simple truth: that was all that it was. And not long since you and Melvin had gotten together, life was suddenly drizzled with an extra dose of joy. An extra dose of encouragement and hope. Work went better for the both of you. Even Mr. Lloyd managed to re-meet him, but this time with more familiarity and respect. Given his interaction with the Agent, it was evident the the older man had offered his blessing and approval, which meant more to you than anything.

Since then my life was bliss, Mel. With you by my side, I knew I could take on anything.

Except, you drew in a sharp breath with a heavy heart.

All until J Edgar Hoover declared those fateful words to America: War on Crime. John Dillinger.

The heaviest sigh left your pursed lips. For a surge of concern was powerful enough to consume you.

Believe me, Mel. Seeing you get promoted to Special Agent in Charge of the Chicago Field Office, it brought me nothing but joy. Seeing you in the papers, I was the most proud anywhere I went. But with that pride, and with that joy, I was also afraid. How could I not be, when you were assigned to catch Dillinger, Public Enemy No. 1?

How could I not think of the risk you had on your life? So afraid for you that it didn’t strike with me that we didn’t see each other for so long after. 

Though you were out of sighs, your heart remained heavy with the thought. It was true, soon after his men’s lives were affected by Dillinger and his gang, Melvin did not set foot in your apartment nor in your neighborhood. And surprisingly, you did not feel betrayed. Not one bit.

When you phoned me that one time, I could tell in your voice. I could tell the weight you had on your shoulders. The burden, the responsibility, the guilt.

And to me, it didn’t matter I couldn’t see you everyday anymore. It didn’t matter that I had a hard time missing you or thinking about you. Be it at the diner, the streets, the park, the living room and the bedroom. It didn’t matter to me that I had to pretend my life had nothing to do with yours. All I wanted was for this nightmare to end: to stop the unnecessary deaths of innocent lives. All I wanted was for you to be safe. And I knew you could do it all. Without complicating things.

Thus, when someone knocked on your door a few hours ago today, your fear was justified. You remembered standing by the door, arms folded, only to feel your heart beat out of your chest. And when those loud, rapid knocks attacked the wooden door, you could not help but wonder: Could it possibly be one of Dillinger’s men? Another shooter perhaps? Were they aware of Melvin’s connection with you? Were you about to be leverage?

But to your surprise, you opened the door regardless. Clutching your chest, you could only gasp.

But I never thought you’d suddenly come crashing in this afternoon.

For there stood Melvin Purvis, Fedora at hand, heavy panting accompanied.

Never so soon.

“You were not at the Diner” he said in a hoarse tone, still panting. “I-I took a day off” you answered, with wide eyes,“Mel…” you gulped, taking a step forward “What’s wron-” To which he could only reply with rough kisses, slamming the door shut behind him.

And being in his arms again after possibly endless days and nights, you were certain you did not wish to be anywhere else.

It was as if fate urged me to stay home today, just so I wouldn’t miss your hungry kisses. Just so I wouldn’t miss your love. Something I craved for what felt like forever.

Longing translated into desperate kisses, where tongues wrestled in haste. And passionate lovemaking rushed in soon after. The type of passionate, that demanded every item of clothing make quick stops in different parts of the apartment, only to lead a trail to the bed. The type of passionate, that had his eager hands wander over your naked back, before palming your heaving breasts with impatience. All the while you straddled him, with your hips rolling against his. The type of passionate, that tempted you to gaze into his  shining eyes. For they spoke to you, even in silence. How he treasured you, how he savored you, his eyes said it all. And with your responding kiss brimming with moans and emotion, you acknowledged his silent confession, you satisfied his hunger, and accepted his peak of pleasure. All until a new climax was reached together, before collapsing on to the bed with exhaustion.

“Mel…” you panted, sweat further infusing with his, “You still didn’t tell me what’s going on…”

It was only a few minutes later, did Melvin began to speak. Only then were you able to find out about the mission that would happen tonight. The mission to finally catch Dillinger. And as if the floodgates just opened, he kept talking. And all you could do was nod, as he continued to cradle you in his arms.

Little did I know, you came to me in possibly the most fateful day ever.

“You think it will work? The plan?” You inquired, soft. His responsive hum vibrated in his chest. “The source is solid…” he replied, “So…we’re betting on it”

Lifting your head up, you looked at him. Truthfully you could not help but feel sorry. There was a hint of exhaustion in his tone. How far did this man go to make this mission a reality? How many men were sacrificed in the process? Death of many men including Carter Baum, his own partner. Feeling useless, you knew you could only offer him a reassuring soft smile:

“Then it will…” you murmured, placing a chaste kiss on his forehead. His skin seemed magnetic to your lips, causing you to proceed with more kisses. Over his eyebrows, bridge of his nose, and finally his lips, the best place of all. With another greedy peck, you pulled yourself away and sat up. With the afternoon breeze playfully caressing your exposed frame, you were tempted to reach out and grab your silk robe tossed on the edge of the bed, which you did.

“I hope you know I couldn’t risk seeing you, with Dillinger’s men on the loose”

Melvin began. Looking back, you nodded with nonchalance. “Of course…” Wrapping the robe around, your answer was as casual as taking a diner order, “I understand” you added meek, looking down at the knot.

“But…that doesn’t mean I was never here”

You froze. With wide eyes, you looked up at his sitting frame. “What do you mean?” You blurted. Only to gasp, “You-w-were you-?”

Melvin nodded,  “Every night around bedtime, from the street…looking at THAT window…”  he said, indicating the very window in your bedroom. If only you could just tell him how your heart just began to melt after possibly weeks. If only you were capable of an embrace that told every fiber of his being how moved you were by him. Melvin sighed, running his fingers through his hair:  

“I just had to make sure you were safe…” he said, “But today, I…” he paused, “I couldn’t stay away”

“And neither should you…” you replied in an instant, cupping his face, “….you’re only human”  you continued with a sigh, “It’s been too long, Mel” your voice grew softer, “ And I missed you” uttering weakly, you proceeded to press your forehead against his. And like that, you both stayed, indulging in the silence with the most innocent physical contact possible.

“This mission…” Melvin began, his warm breath falling on your face, “If I make it out alive-” “Mel, you WILL make it out aliv-” you breathed, before he placed his fingers over your lips.

“If I make it…I’m yours”

He whispered, forcing you to freeze once again. Overwhelming emotion seemed to have frozen you with disbelief, when his sharp features unveiled the softest smile, “As a man, I want to do what’s right for the people” he said, holding your chin, “ I want do what’s right for my heart. And I wanna do it all with you, by my side, always”

And in the blink of an eye, you left through that door, hours before our lives could possibly change forever.

No wonder you made love to me, as if it was your last.

Sniffing, you placed a loving kiss on the pen. For it was the pen Melvin once gifted you with. The pen he hoped you would use when you finally become a secretary. And it did not take long for you to wipe the tears that streamed down your cheeks in silence. What will happen tonight, at the Biograph Theater will end in either two ways. And all you could do was to pray for one in particular. Pray for the one you desperately needed. With another final sniff, you continued to write, until you found yourself finally finishing off the letter you never imagined yourself writing. You wrote your heart out, which left you no regrets:

Before I end this letter, I want to ask you a question.

Do you remember when I was helping you put your tie back on, minutes before you left?  

When I did, I felt something. Something warm, something nice. And I won’t lie, I enjoyed it. Cause in the end, it gave me the feeling you always gave me from the moment I met you: Hope. But today, that hope was also protected by a layer of love. A strong layer. To be able to put your tie on possibly every day, would be an honor I’d wear like a badge for life.

Mel, you WILL make it out alive. You and your men, you WILL get it done. Because this letter will be waiting for you. Because I will be waiting for you.

Ready to have more hope, ready to do more good, ready to live our truth, by your side, always.

With love,

Yours forever…

——————————————————

Glossary of 1930′s Terms/Slang Bumping Gums* - 1930’s Slang for “Talk about nothing useful” Blues in my Heart* - Jazz song by Chick Webb and his Orchestra recorded in 1931 Goon*- 1930’s Slang for thug or bodyguard Lincoln*- 1930’s Slang for $5 bill Talkies*- 1930’s Slang for Movies Crosley*- A Radio Brand famous in the 1930’s If I had a girl like you*- Jazz song by Rudy Vallee, recorded in 1930

——————————————————

Tagged: @tammykelly​​​​ @ladyerina​​​​ @kittenlittle24 @everyday-imfangirling​​​​ @lucy-roo​​​​ @works-of-fanfiction​​​​ @bale-is-a-babe @badsext​​​​  @maddistyles17 @truly-insatiable @gooseyhouse​​​​ @artsymaddie​​​​ @quarterback-5 @mamooska8 @jensen-impala​​​ @lilyofthesword​​​​ @woodencupcake​​​​ @fonduebitches @soullesstaco​​​​ @spicybellinger​​​​ @marvel-lously​​​​ @glitterypinkkitty​​​ @danceyreagan​​​​​ @barikawho​​​​​  @lostgirl0020​ @diogodxlot​​​​​ @xxdearlybeloved​​​​​ @jupit3rmoontarot​​​​​ @lexiespeaks​​​ @misterlords-fics​​​​ @readingslumpfanfic​​ @ares-is-my-father​ @christianbalefanatic​

Once again, lemme know if you wanna get tagged. And those who only want to be tagged for specific Bale characters, please do let me know. I didn’t take out those who didn’t tell me just in case. But feel free to let me know, i totally understand.

Check My MASTERLIST for More :)

[stressedoutcanary]

Hold On - Jason Todd x Batgirl!Reader [PART 3]

What this includes: Violence, a combo of angst and fluff, and just to be on the safe side I’d say language.

Word count: 3.1k

A/N😋: I am so glad it’s finally finished, now it won’t be sitting in my drafts staring at me all day. Also forgive me for any mistakes, half of it is written at 3 AM

Part 1 , Part 2

•°•°•°•°

“This is it”, you breathed out, stopping your bike near a bush making sure that place was obscure enough. You placed the helmet on the handle and hopped off the bike. After taking a few steps forward and scouting the area, you clicked your comms back on.

“O care to give me the layout of what I am getting myself into, ‘cause we all know the last time didn’t go so well”

“Nightwing said you might call me for backup and now I owe him 20 uggh! Anyways onto the problem at hand, I’m picking up a few heat signatures from the basement area and the schematics of the building indicate a vent on the other side which might help you get in.”

“Is there anything else I should know?”

There was no reply on the other end and you assumed she was looking into it. To your bad luck, it was far from it. You heard an all too familiar grunt and mentally cursed yourself for forgetting that it was an open line.

“(Y/N), I thought I made myself clear”, Bruce’s modulated voice came through which low-key made you want to strangle him with your bare hands.

“Oh come on B! Didn’t Alfred teach you that listening in on other people’s conversations is bad manners”

“We are 10 minutes out you will not be going in till we get there”

‘Like Hell I won’t’

“Hello? B? Your voice is breaking up. I can’t hear you! there is some interference in the signal. Batman?”

“Don’t- ” you clicked the comms off before he could finish his sentence and breathed a sigh of relief. ”Note to self after what you just did, avoid showing your face to anyone in the fam for at least a week.”

Snooping around, you came across the vent Babs told you about and you smirked to yourself, “Bless those idiots who decided to make an excess amount of vents throughout Gotham, plus no dumbass to shoot open the lock on any door, huh I’d say it’s going pretty good for me.”

After going through a very, very dusty vent, you silently dropped down to floor behind a goon and cleared your throat to draw his attention. As soon as he turned around, his jaw was met with your right hook, making him plummet to the ground. Grabbing him by the collar you inched closer to his face, which was yet again fully covered by a white mask.

“Alright no-face, tell me where Pyg is right now”, you made use of your deep modulated voice, making the man dart his eyes towards the far right corner of the room. You knew what that meant and without wasting any more time, you knocked him out and scurried over, finding a heavy door at the end. Somehow managing to push open the door, you were faced with a circular stairwell leading down.

“Well Oracle did say she got heat signatures down in the basement.”, you sighed and started taking calculated steps, making sure to check for any traps. ‘Why keep only one person to guard your supersecret creep-house? Either Lazlo is way too overconfident or way too crazy... Probably both.’, you thought, wheels turning in your head, hoping to make sense of the situation. As you went down, you could catch a faint sound of music. ‘Is that Opera?! Well at least it fits his M.O.’

The end of the stairwell opened into a large room. You hid behind one of wooden crates as your mind swiftly accessed the grim ambience; Pyg was sharpening his knife swaying along with opera music playing in the background but Jason was nowhere to be found. Your breath hitched and your blood ran cold, it felt as if the world around you was spinning.

‘What if... what if it’s too late’  Crouching down on the ground with your back to the crate your took in several deep breaths to calm your racing heart. You couldn’t think like that, not when you’re so close. You wiped the stray tear which escaped the tightness of your cowl and had trailed down your cheek. You tried to focus instead of jumping to conclusions.

You frowned upon noticing something odd on the wall in front of you, placing your palms on it, you gave it a slight push. To your surprise it paved way for an attached corridor which clearly didn’t come up in the schematics Oracle told you about. You slipped into the corridor, making sure that nobody saw you. Your feet froze for a slight second on the sight you were met with; cages like prison cells lined up in a row with people inside of them.

“The people who went missing”, you whispered to yourself, still reeling in the shock of it all. Upon hearing a familiar groan you sprinted across the pathway to the source, eyes scanning every inch of the person you found, the person you were here to rescue. You fumbled with the lock for a while, muttering curses under your breath until it clicked open. You dashed to his side and took a batarang out to cut the binds he was in.

“Jay if you die on me again, I swear I will kill you.”

“Been there, done that princess and honestly not a fan of it”, Jason croaked out, his reply came out weaker and voice barely above a whisper. It made your heart clench in a way it hasn’t in a long, long time. You lifted your head up, you gave him a soft smile, gently brushing off the matted hair on his forehead, 

“Jason I..”

‘Just tell him you love him you coward, It’s really not that hard’

“Jason I’m glad you’re okay”, you blurted out in way which was far from normal but he seemed way too tired to noticed. 

‘COWARD’

“How did you get free?”, he inquired, thankfully interrupting your internal yelling.

“I didn’t? I literally just walked in here to get you out.”

“But I thought-”, Jason looked utterly confused as he rubbed his wrists to ease the pain caused by the rope.

“Well long story short. You got captured. I was saved by Harley and Ivy, had a nice chat with them, and then I might have been responsible for Batman’s high blood pressure, and then I emotionally blackmailed Nightwing into giving me your location and then here I am”

“Wha...Yeah I will just pretend I totally understand whatever the hell you just said.”, Jason sighed, he tried to stand up but his feet wobbled and if it wasn’t for you catching him on time h would’ve staggered to the ground.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Mmhmm”, he hummed lightly leaning his weight on you. “Just a little dizzy, probably from the dehydration, It could also be because of the blood loss from the stab wound I got”

“The WHAT?!”, you looked at him like he was crazy.  

“Oh yeah I think I kinda forgot to tell you that the creepy dude tried to cut me open but my armor got in the way so he stabbed me instead and went away saying he had to sharpen his knife or something like that”, he started to slur and you knew you had to get him back to the cave as quickly as possible. You helped him get up on his feet, slinging one of his arms over your shoulders and wrapping one of your arms around his waist.

“Oh my God! Jay, you don’t just bring this sort of thing up in casual conversation!”, you shook your head and started taking small steps with him towards the way you came from. Suddenly a loud crash was heard followed by a couple of screams making the both of you share a nervous glance.

“What was that?”

“Only one way to find out”, you said as you walked through the door back into the large room. 

It was pure chaos, more like a free-for-all. Nightwing jogged up to you. 

“We did say we were 10 minutes out didn’t we?”, he gave you a bright smile and swung Jason’s free arm over his shoulder to help you support him better.

“Good, now since you are here, hold him”, you shifted Jason’s weight towards Dick.

“Hey-”

“Don’t even”, he glared daggers at his elder brother, “What are you even doing? I feel like a baby being passed around”

You ignored Jason’s whining in the background and fixed your gaze on the one person in the room who would soon face your wrath. The rest had already cleared up the goons and Pyg was the only one left. You narrowed your eyes and cracked your knuckles, making your way over to him.

By the time you reached Pyg he was already backing away from Batman and one murderous looking Robin, turning around he tried to make a run for it but was ultimately met with your fist, a sickening crack was heard and no one was quite sure whether it was from his mask, his jaw or both. Pyg was out cold and you shrugged at the duo in front of you while Dick and Jason made their way over.

“Remind me never to get on her bad side ever again.”, Jason whispered as both the boys looked completely terrified of you. You walked over to Bruce and held out your hand. He didn’t seem to catch the drift, for being the world’s greatest detective, he was quite dumb sometimes.

“The keys to the batmobile, unless you want Mr. surprise-I-got-stabbed over here to bleed out.”

After placing Jason into the passenger seat you hopped into the driving one. 

“Also there are people in the back, you know, the missing ones, so good luck with the clean up I guess.”, you called out before before closing the hood of the batmobile. 

You were on the road heading straight for the cave when you realized Jason wasn’t answering your questions anymore.

“Jason?”, you stole a glance at him and he was as pale as a ghost, “Shit!”, you yelled as you jammed your foot on the accelerator. 

•°•°

Jason woke up to the dull beeping of multiple monitors and by the looks of the place, he concluded he was in fact in the batcave. As he regained some control over his senses, he saw you sitting on a chair beside his bed. You were sound asleep but he could see worry etched on your face even in your slumber. Looking at you, Jason wished he had the courage to say what his heart felt instead he just went ahead taking your hand in his, giving it a little squeeze. You stirred awake at that.

“Hey! You’re up!”, you stood up abruptly and hugged him tightly. To him it felt as if you were actually afraid of what might happen if you let go of him.

“I told you I don’t do dying anymore. It sucks.”

You finally pulled away from him, a smile tugging at your lips. Jason glanced at your hand, taking it in his once again, he ran his thumb over your bruised knuckles.

“I knew you had a mean right hook, guess I just forgot how mean”, Jason said smirking at you. You didn’t pull away from him as he had expected in his head instead you just scoffed at the statement. 

“The next time you forget that, allow me to give you a reminder by demonstration Bird-Brain”, you called him by the name you often used back then. At first it was to annoy your very annoying best friend but then it stuck around but hadn’t used that nickname ever since he came back. You both realized that. A silence fell over the once playful conversation, his eyes found the celling and yours found your lap. After a while you cleared you throat to get his attention and he looked at you, his expressions were borderline unreadable.

“Jason I-I should go now, but don't worry I’ll get Alfred back here”, You got up and moved towards the door of the med-bay, scrunching your eyes shut you released a shaky breath.

‘It’s now or never (Y/N)’ 

“Jason when you get better, there is this place I have been meaning to take you to, with me of course.”

“Sure I’ll go”

“So tomorrow sounds good?”

“Tomorrow sounds good”, he repeated after you breaking into a grin. Your cheeks flushed and you had to take a sharp turn to hide the blush on your face. You mentally smacked yourself for behaving like a teen asking her crush out on a date for the first time. 

•°•°

The next night Jason met you on the roof of the Wayne tower.

“Please tell me this isn’t the place you wanted to see with me”, he chuckled behind you and you turned around to give him a quick hug.

“It’s not that bad of a place, plus I can throw you off here too if you get on my nerves”, you laughed at his faux scandalised face.

“You wound me”

“In case you forgot you are already wounded, drama queen, plus its your lucky day, this is not where we will be spending our evening. Just follow me and don’t get lost on the way”, you winked and jumped off the edge, him following the suit.

When you both reached the place you had in mind, the place Jason cherished when he was Robin, the expression on his face was priceless. It was like a mixture of awe and surprise with a hint of sadness.

“How did you find out about this?”, Jason inquired after a while of reminiscing. 

“Gee how indeed, ‘cause it cannot be the fact that I am detective who’s life is influenced by at least a dozen detectives and it’s most definitely not the fact that for me, you aren’t that difficult to figure out”

“Touché”

Jason chuckled at your usual playful sarcasm, his eyes were twinkling with something which felt more than just momental adoration and you couldn’t help but crack a small smile of your own. You made your way over to him, looking at the visible skyline for a brief moment, Jason watched as you sat down on the ledge with your legs dangling off, patting the space beside you gestured him to join you. 

“I have a feeling we’re gonna be here for a while, so might as well sit down and get comfortable”, you shrugged as he nodded and sat down beside you, placing his elbow on his bent knee. You both enjoyed the few minutes of comfortable silence, watching cars pass by below and the moon lit starry sky above.

“I am starting to see why you liked it here”

“Yeah...”

“Alfred told me”

“Huh?”, Jason looked at you dumbfounded, trying to process your words.

“After you...were gone, Alfred told me, he told me that this was your happy place, though I still can’t believe you had a favorite gargoyle”, stifling a laugh you somehow managed to continue, “Anyway so as I saying, ever since I found out about it, I used to come here every night when I got free from patrol, come to think of it I still do, sometimes”

You could feel his heavy gaze boring into you making you immediately regret bringing up this conversation. 

“Why?”, he finally inquired. You didn’t know whether to feel relived or be tense, but it was now or never, releasing a shallow breath you glanced at him, words flowing out on their own accord. 

“Even back then I knew everyone dies at some point and all we can do is try and find some meaning in it, in the memories they leave behind and I guess me wanting to be here, it was a part of me trying to do that and it made me feel somewhat connected to you so I kept doing it; Coming here, spending any time I could spare and leaving before the crack of dawn and before I knew it, it had become a habit.”

“So you did miss me”, he gave you a sad smile and wrapped his hand around your shoulder, giving you a light squeeze. 

“Of course I did you dumbass, I was best friend.”, you gave him a nudge and leaned your cheek on his chest, sighing deeply.

“The reason I avoided you after you came back was because I was scared”, you whispered, hoping it would sound less real that way. Jason pulled back a bit to take in your features and you could hear the strain in his voice, a hint of sadness in it.

“Scared of me?”

“Jason I wasn’t scared of you, I can never be, I was scared for you. I was afraid of losing you again. Every time you come back I lose you all over again and I am honestly tired of it and I thought that maybe if I kept my distance I--”

“Won’t get hurt again?”

“Yeah, something like that”

A moment passed where no one spoke anything, both of you running the scenarios of what might happen next in your brains. An idea clicked in your head and you abruptly got to your feet startling Jason in the process. Offering him your hand and a sheepish smile, you got him to his feet.

“I am tired of being scared Jason. I want this. I want us and for that I am willing to take a chance, are you?”, he stepped closer to you, his scent invading your senses.  

“For you (Y/N), anything. You should know that by now, plus I feel the same way, I have for a while now”, Jason breathed out as he pulled you in for a deep kiss leaving you dizzy for a while after you pulled away for air. Placing your foreheads together, you found yourselves grinning like idiots yet again in the two successive nights. Jason’s stomach growled, sending you into a fit of laughter.

“Hungry?”

“You really gotta ask?”, raising an eyebrow, he tried to look offended but ultimately melted against you as you pressed your lips on his for a brief moment.

“I know a place”, you murmured, lips brushing against his and before he could register what was happening you already had a grapnel gun in your hands, smirking as you jumped off the ledge.

“Last one there is a rotten egg hoodie!!”

“Hey! But I don’t even know where it is!”

“Not my fault Bird-Brain!”

Jason jumped on after you, smiling to himself. Both of you were thinking the same thing ‘maybe this was finally the start of a new chapter; something new, something scary and something beautiful altogether’

°•°•°•°•

Tags: @ladyperceval

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

do you think the companions have a closet of like. flea and tick preventing stuff/medicine somewhere

Imagine someone opens that closet and they don’t know about the werewolf thing and they ask someone “hey why do we have all this dog stuff??? Where are the dogs???”

Hey, not only do I think that, I think it's entirely possible that they have their own mini veterinary closet, including the dog treats. The dog treats are the most important.

I'd like to thank you, though, because as soon as I read this ask, my mind start buzzing, or yipping, as the little dogs, might, and, well. . .

Chasing Tails, or Why is the Circle Like This?

Lucia's sure taking a long time . . .

Lars fidgeted in his seat at the end of the table, casting his eyes once again to the stairwell that led down to the Companions' living quarters. It wasn't the first time he'd sat around their hearth to wait on his best friend and it definitely wouldn't be the last, he was sure, but he always felt a little nervous sitting by himself as large warriors with huge blades went about their business around him. Eating, drinking, laughing . . . wrestling. The first time he'd seen Lucia's papa and uncle get into an all out brawl there on the hearth stones, he'd had the shakes until long after his grandma tucked him into bed.

A thud on the table startled the boy from his thoughts. "Here, kid, watch this for me, will you?" Lars stared wide-eyed as Ria, who was generally the nicest out of all the Companions — aside from Lucia, who insisted she was one despite only being ten — darted back up the steps and out the double doors to the Winds District. Not a moment later, the doors from the training yard banged open as Njada Stonearm — who was definitely the meanest Companion — barged in, eyes aflame like the hearth. Lars shrank back in his seat.

"Ria!" her voice echoed above the crack of the fire and the murmur of a few others talking across the room.

"Not here," called Athis, snickering.

"Jus' missed 'er," slurred Torvar.

A growl left the Nord woman's throat as her eyes swivelled round and landed on Lars, who was peaking out from behind the large satchel Ria'd left on the table. The boy's eyes bulged in horror as she took three long strides and arrived beside him, arms crossed under a face painted with a harsh scowl.

(Sometimes, a lot of times, Lars wished he was brave enough to ask Njada Stonearm to beat up Braith, but he had the feeling she'd either laugh him off — or worse, encourage the Redguard girl to redouble her efforts to kick his—)

"—dumped this here, huh?"

"W-wha—"

A hand, large and strong enough to crush his skull, shook the bag in front of him. "Ria left this here, didn't she?"

"Ye-yeah—"

"Quit mumbling!"

"Y-yes sir, I, I mean ma'am!"

If anyone ever looked absolutely done with the world, it was Njada Stonearm in that moment. Lars squirmed under her glare, but said no more, and the Nord woman grumbled under her breath. "I've gotta hunt down that rabbit brained . . ." she trailed off, eyeing Lars with a cold interest. "You. Take this downstairs and put it in the Circles' supply closet."

Lars tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry, and he let out a strangled cough instead. He choked a gasp when Njada Stonearm thumped him on the back. "Get going, kid," she said as she turned on her heel and marched out the same doors Ria fled through earlier.

With shaking legs, Lars got to his feet and hefted the satchel into his arms. There was a faint clink! clink! of glass, and he wondered if it was some kind of fancy reserve just for the Circle. He knew Lucia's mama was fond of Imperial brandies, so maybe that was it?

He crossed the hall, an easy task as Athis and Torvar promptly went back into their cups once Njada Stonearm had redirected her ire to Lars and so they didn't bother him. It was when he got to the stairs that the wobble in his knees became a full shake. Braith often told him he was infected with the Rattles and no one bothered telling him because it was more fun to watch him convulse like a half dead draugr. Sometimes, like right now for instance, he almost believed her.

One of the men barked a laugh, Lars wasn't sure which, but it jarred his limbs into motion; he eased his way down the wooden stairs, scared every moment that he'd trip, fall, and anger not only Njada Stonearm, but the whole Circle as well. His heart lodged in his throat. If he broke the bottles and made a mess of their contents, would he ever be allowed back in Jorrvaskr? Would he ever get to play with Lucia again?

The heavy door into the basement quarters was an almost reassuring barrier to the boy as he aligned his back with it, arms full of the satchel's awkward bulk. With a grunt, he thrust back, and the door creaked slowly open. When it was wide enough, he slipped around the dense oak, and once again hesitated. Now where? He didn't actually know where the Circles' supply closet was. Though, he thought, shifting from foot to foot with the wide hall empty before him, it might be down near the Circles' private quarters.

The supply closet wasn't really the difficult to find, being one of the few closed doors at the end. The other was the door to the Harbinger's room, but that'd been shut for months since . . . Lars swallowed, coughed again, and with the bag balanced precariously in one arm under his chin, he opened the door.

"What're you doing?"

"Gah!" Lars teetered forward, and if it weren't for Lucia's hand clenching the back of his shirt, he'd have fallen face first into—

"Um, better question: why do your parents' have a closet full of pet care products?" Lars asked, once he was steady on his feet and able to take in the concents of the supply closet.

Beside him, Lucia's face scrunched in clear confusion. Shelves on shelves of bottles, bright yellow and each marked with a label depicting some kind of nasty insect underneath a vivid red X, filled the majority of their vision. Lars' arms almost went slack under the weight of the bag. Was he carrying more of that stuff? Flea and tick repellent? Below the shelves was a stack of huge sacks that smelled a little too strongly of dried meat. Was that—?

"What's all this for?"

Lars gaped at Lucia. "You mean, you don't know?"

She shook her head, teeth gnawing her lip.

"Lucia? Lass, what are you doing in the closet?"

The two kids whirled around to find Lucia's uncle striding down the hall toward them. In a blur, Lucia sprinted to him, and, grabbing at his gauntlet clad arm, hung on for dear life. "Uncle Vilkas! Uncle Vilkas! Did you know about the pet medicine? Are those bags full of doggy treats? Oh! Is Mama getting me a puppy? Is that why she left for Markarth yesterday? Is she getting me a war dog so I can take him with me when I'm doing contracts? I've always wanted a puppy! The Circle always goes and visits the Jarl's kennels and I never get to go!"

"What—"

"I mean, why else do Mama and Papa always smell like they've been rolling around in a dog bed whenever they come back in before breakfast? Or when they're sneaking in during the middle of the night? Or when—"

"Lucia! What are you talking about, lass?" Vilkas, at last, cut in.

"Oh! Well, I was consalt— consulk—"

"Consulting," her uncle supplied.

"Yeah, consulting my beasty, beast, uh, animal guide before I came looking for Lars 'cause we're gonna go hunt goblins in his mom's vegetable garden when I found him in the Circles' closet, which I thought was weird because I thought this was where Papa was hiding Mama's New Life present — so maybe Papa is getting Mama the puppy? — but I didn't get to ask Lars why 'cause he was about to crash into the shelves, and then I'd have had to help him clean up the mess, and I'd rather go hunt the goblins than do chores, so . . ." Lucia rambled on, fast as a dartwing. All the while Vilkas nodded along to what she said, before at length raising a hand to hush her, his pale eyes resting on Lars. The young boy felt his knees start to wobble again.

"What's this, then?" Vilkas gestured to the bag.

"Uh, Njada Stonearm sent me down with it, sir. She um, she said to bring it to the Circles' supply closet . . ." By the end, Lars could barely hear his own voice, but whatever he heard seemed to placate Vilkas. The man took the satchel from Lars', the boy's thin arms falling limp with relief.

"I'll take care of this, Battle-Born. Lucia, you two run along," he said, holding the bag as easy in one hand as one might hold an apple. Lars couldn't help but feel a little envy at the dark warrior's ease and strength.

"Wait," Lucia's fingers twisted together around the hilt of her wooden sword. Lars hadn't even noticed she'd brought it. "I don't understand though! Is it a puppy? Is it Mama's? Will she share him? Uncle—"

Vilkas laughed. Lars never really heard the man laugh before. It was different from his brother's: deeper, richer, almost wolfish, whereas Farkas' laughter was a booming bark. The boy's brow creased at the comparisons, his eyes traveling to the inside of the closet again. There was more in there beside pet medicine and dog food, but before he could read anymore labels, Lucia's uncle shut the door and was ushering them down the hall a moment later.

"You'll know soon enough, lass. One day, when you're in the Circle yourself," he was saying.

"In the Circle? Myself?" Lucia's eyes glittered.

"Aye," Vilkas nodded. He pulled the basement door open and waved them up the stairs. "Then, and not a moment before. And lass?"

"Yes, Uncle?"

"While you're out hunting goblins, keep the little Battle-Born out of too much trouble, will you? Lad needs someone looking out for him." Lucia was already halfway up the stairs, but Vilkas could still reach to ruffle her dark ashy hair, and the girl preened under the attention.

Lars shifted about in embarrassment, but the Companion ignored him.

The two were halfway to his mother's garden, Lucia delivering a flash lecture on the nature of goblins, when a thought struck Lars, hitting him right between the eyes like Braith often did.

If the Companions didn't have any dogs, then why did he hear howling echo from Jorrvaskr at night?

[avengerscompound]

It’s You and Me - Chapter 1

It’s You and Me: A Hawkeye Fanfic

Series Masterlist

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Clint Barton x  F!Reader

Word Count:  2131

Rating:  E

Warnings:  Action, Canon typical violence, snakes (further warnings on series, if you have triggers please see masterlist for series warnings)

Synopsis:  You and Clint Barton go way back.  Since you joined the circus as a child, he took it upon himself to keep you away from the people who really wanted to hurt you.  For years the two of you danced a line between dark and light.

When he chooses light the two of you go your separate ways.

Fifteen years later he tracks you down.  Those feelings the two of you shared never went away, but now he is not only an Avengers but a single father.  Can the two of you make it work after all this time when your lives have gone in such different directions?

A series told in flashbacks and current day.

Chapter 1: Now

The lights were out in the lobby.  That wasn’t that unusual.  The building you lived in was only barely above the level of run-down most people would consider dilapidated.  If it was just the lights, you wouldn’t be as on edge as you currently felt.  But as not just one, but two of the security doors leading in were unlatched your hackles went up.

You immediately became aware of someone lurking in the shadow of the stairwell, and you relaxed.

Some people gave off a certain energy.  It was comfortable and familiar and if they were there you just knew.  It was almost like their molecules blended with yours and spoke to each other without needing to be aware it was happening.

“You gonna hide there all night?”  You asked, readjusting the paper bag of groceries you were carrying as you started climbing the crooked stairs up to your apartment.  The archer stepped out of the shadows soundlessly and began to follow you upstairs.

You hadn’t seen Clint for what was coming up to fifteen years, give or take.  Yet you could always tell when he was there.  Even now, his presence in the room just felt a certain way.  The two of you were connected through a shared past and in the end, it was always the two of you.

He followed you upstairs, not saying a word.  You carefully juggled your groceries as you unlocked your door and he followed you inside and closed it behind him.  Your apartment was small. Just one room that acted as your bedroom and living room, with a tiny nook on one side that was your kitchen, and a bathroom on the far end that looked out onto the building next door.

Your grey tabby cat, Jasper, met you at the door, meowing loudly.  He wound his way between your feet.  You put your groceries down and opened a tin of cat food, and emptied it into his dish.  You dropped the tin into the sink and turned to Clint.

 “So, business or pleasure?”  You asked.  Instead of answering directly, Clint spun you and crashed his lips into yours, pushing you back against the bench as he kissed you hard.  You braced one hand against the bench behind you and ran the other up his chest.  Fifteen years had not taken anything from Clint’s physique.  He was just as muscular as you remembered him being back when you were both barely even counted as adults.  The kiss was just how you remembered too.  His lips were familiar and exciting.  This was something you’d done hundreds of times, but it had been so long that it was new as well.

Clint pulled back and looked down at you.  Those blue eyes that you knew so well were lined at the corners.  “So, business then?”  You teased.

He pulled away from you and nodded.  “I’m afraid so.”

You started to unpack your groceries.  You had assumed it would be work.  For a long time, you and Clint trod the same line between dark and light.  Then one day Clint had veered directly into the light.  Ever since then, he’d used his contacts up anytime he’d needed information.  You’d heard stories, often directly from the source about many getting roughed up by him while he was on some mission for SHIELD and then the Avengers.

He hadn’t come to you yet, but you knew it was a matter of time before he ran out of options.

“What is it?”  You asked, putting your milk in the fridge.

Clint began pawing through your groceries pulling things out and scattering them over your benchtop.  He found a punnet of blueberries and popped it open and began to eat them.  “You can get me into the bar with no name, can’t you?”

You looked at him and raised your eyebrow.  “Are you trying to get me killed?”

He held up his hands.  “I swear to god, I’m not going to start anything.  I’m supposed to pick something up.”

“What idiot told you they’d meet you there?  You.  Hawkeye of the Avengers,” you asked.

Clint smirked.  “Zelda.”

You shook your head and ran your hands down your face.  “It’s a setup, Clint.  You know that right?”

“She doesn’t know it’s me,” Clint assured you.  “I swear.”

“She knows, just like I would know,” you said.  “And it’s moot.  You show your face in there, and they’ll kill you and then they’ll kill me for bringing you.  You’re hardly incognito anymore.”

Clint put down the blueberries and came over to you, he snaked his arms around your waist and pulled you close.  “Come on, sugar,” he said, using your old stage name.  “Do it for old times sake.  Don’t you miss me?”

“I miss the stuff you led with,” you huffed.  “Why’s it taken you so long to track me down?”

He frowned and his thumbs drew circles on your hips.  “I wanted to…”

“But?”

“But… I didn’t want to get to the point where you rejected me.  It was always you and me,” he said.  “And I changed, but you never told me no.”

You huffed and pulled away from him.  “God, you suck.”

“I know,” he said.  “But I’d owe you.  And imagine what that could do for you.  Having an Avenger in your debt.”  He came up behind you and pulled you back against him again.  “We can continue with what we were doing after if you like?”

You leaned back against him.  “Clint…”

“Come on…” he begged.  “It’ll be you and me again.”

You huffed.  “She definitely doesn’t know it’s you?”

“No, I swear.”

“How about this,” you said, turning to face him.  “I go in.  Pretend to be someone picking up the … whatever it is… and I’ll bring it to you.”

“How do I know you won’t just run off with it?”  He asked, raising an eyebrow.

You smiled at him.  “You’re going to have to trust me, aren’t you?”

A few hours later you were dressed head to toe in black Kevlar body armor and your sword strapped to your back.  In television and movies bars with a large criminal element always had a no-weapons rule.  You’d check them at the door to avoid any incident on site.  For the Bar With No Name, it was the opposite.  They employed a nuclear deterrent method.  Everyone was either armed or enhanced and that way no one would start anything if they wanted to avoid anything getting ugly.

You spotted Zelda sitting at the bar.  She sat alone with several empty seats on either side.  The patrons closer to her eyed her with a mixture of revulsion and fear due to the large Burmese Python she had casually wrapped around her.  You knew the name of the snake even though you’d never seen that one before.  They always had the same name.

“Hello, Zelda,” you said.  “And how’s Precious?”

She looked at you a little surprised.  “Oh my god!  What are you doing here?  I haven’t seen you in forever!”

She hugged you and the snake nosed at your side.  “I’m here for you.”

She pulled back and looked at you.  “No…” she said.  “No, you’re not.”

You opened one of the pouches on your belt to show her the wad of cash Clint had supplied you with.

“Well then,” she said, pulling a microdrive out of her pocket.  You went to take it from her but just as you started to close your fingers around it, she flicked it back over her knuckles and out of your reach.  Precious the snake lifted his head and hissed softly.  “But first, tell me, why are you working with Hawkeye.”

As you’d expected, she knew.  “I’m not,” you lied.

Zelda put the drive on the bar and the snake slithered off her and began encircling it.  “That’s funny,” she said.  “Because I’ve been talking to Clint Barton for two months about this drive and yet here you are.”

“You’ve got it wrong.  You’ve been talking to one of my people,” you argued.

She laughed loudly and Precious reared her head and bared her fangs.  “Honey, you, me, and Clint go way back.  You think I wouldn’t recognize that idiot’s voice when I heard it?”

“If you really expected it to be Clint then why would you suggest meeting him in the only place in the city he can’t get into?”  You asked.

“Because,” Zeda said, leaning forward a little.  “I can’t kill him, but maybe all these people can.”

You looked directly in her eye not moving, aware that Precious had started to sway slightly where she sat.  You were burned.  No matter what you did now, everyone in here would soon know you were working with the Avengers.  Even if it was just this once and just Clint Barton.  If you stood up and walked out, Zelda would tell everyone about it after.  If you grabbed the disk, chaos would break out and they’d all know now.  You didn’t want to hurt her snake, but if you were burned, you were burned.  Might as well get what you came for.

You moved quickly.  Too quick for Zelda.  She wasn’t really a fighter and even back at the circus it was her snakes over fitness.  Precious on the other hand was fast.  As your fingers closed around the drive, Precious lunged at you, sinking her fangs into your arm.  You screamed out and yanked your hand back as you drew your sword.

Everyone in the room drew their weapons as their attention snapped to you.

“She’s working with the Avengers!”  Zelda shouted.

“Liar!  She is!” You countered and slammed the hilt of your head down on Precious’ head.  The snake let go of our arm and you started gushing blood.  All around you chaos broke out as people decided which of you was lying.  You ran for the door as the snake lunged at you again.  This time you were quicker than the snake, ducking to the side so that the large python slammed into the chest of a large man who had come running at you.  He screamed and began wrestling with the snake and you launched yourself over his head using four more random people as stepping stones to get to the door as gunfire broke out.

The large security guard blocked your exit.  You squared off with your sword, preparing to fight on all sides, when the door blew in suddenly, flattening the guard.  Clint stood on the other side grinning.  “What are you waiting for?”  He said.

“God, you suck,” you laughed and ran out after him, half the bar close on your heels.  Clint fired a series of his trick arrows at the group pursuing you.  Two got pinned to the wall of the building as they existed, blocking the path for anyone else.  Another got clocked on the head with a concussion arrow.  And three more were captured in his net arrow.  The last arrow he fired exploded into a cloud of smoke and the two of you ducked down a side alley while the remaining pursuers disappeared from view.

“Where are we going?”  You asked.

“Subway,” Clint said, pointing to the entrance on the other side of the road.

You ducked through the traffic, jumping over the hood of a taxi and sliding down the railing into the subway below.  You jumped the barrier as Clint pulled out a ticket and scanned in and the two of you got onto the very first train you saw as its door closed behind you.

“Did you get it?”  He asked as the two of you stood panting and leaning against each other.  You held out the drive.  Blood was still running down your arm but it wasn’t until now that you were aware of how bad it was.  You swooned, and Clint caught you. “Woah.  Did the snake get you?”  He said, pulling off his shirt and wrapping it around your arm.

The other people in the carriage had all started backing away and moving down the train and Clint got you to take a seat on one of the plastic chairs.  “Yeah.  It’s just a python though.  It’ll stop bleeding.”

“I’ll take you back to my place and patch you up.  Might be better if you don’t go home tonight.”

“Are you kidding me?”  You asked.  “You burned me.  They’re gonna swarm my place looking to see if I am an Avenger.  No one will work with me now.”

Clint shrugged.  “Maybe it’s better that way.”

“Easy for you to say, Mister Avenger,” you snapped.

“Come on,” Clint teased.  “You can’t tell me that wasn’t fun.”

You huffed and nodded, a reluctant smile playing over your lips.  “Yeah… I guess it was.”

// NEXT

[slutsofren]

surrender the night

*this is a companion piece to my series, Danger Days, but can be read as a standalone

summary: you and joel have been together for a while, no longer worrying about fireflies or about ellie, the three of you became pretty close-knit out on the road and now in jackson but joel is usually closed off with you today until he wants to show you how much he loves you while hunkering down from the rain.

cw: no y/n, intimate/soft smut, mild bratty reader, slight angst, light humor/teasing, established relationship and life in jackson, joel being emotional AND vulnerable, SARAH MENTION that needs a whole TW i swear

word count: 3,884

a/n: congrats to pedro on this role and welcome new fans to tlou!! <spoilers> tlou2 isnt entirely canon in my version bc our man survives abby and her bullshit so we can all be happy here; but check out my series following the first tlou game with slow burn and other fun tropes here on ao3!

read on ao3 here!

Bandit attacks were on the rise again, always spiking before winter starts and at the tail end of it. You had been pulling nearly nonstop shifts at the wall and scouting nearby. Joel noticed how tired you were getting and tried to convince Tommy and Maria to give you less time on rotation. You thanked him heavily for it but if there was one thing you were good at, it was keeping those you loved safe.

The rifle was heavy in your hands, your thighs warmed by your signature dual handguns there, you were armed to the brim but it did nothing considering the visibility was poor. It was raining on and off since the two of you began your shift but as you neared the small town, it had gotten heavier as you got closer to the last stop on the scouting trail.

Beside you, Joel had been quiet nearly the entire time since the two of you left Jackson and each time you tried to ask him if he was okay, he shrugged you off. It wasn’t unusual for the man, he was a rather private person despite the many many months the two of you had been together.

The one thing that warned you something was wrong was a conversation the two of you had only last night. For the first time ever, Joel spoke of a memory between him and Sarah, the daughter he lost over twenty years ago, of how she would banter with him and keep him on his toes. He smiled while telling you a couple stories of her but fell into a tense silence afterwards that seeped well into today and you figure his silence has to do with it.

Your horses came to a stop in the garage of the safehouse as the two of you jumped down. “I’ll shut it,” you offered quietly as you lowered the garage door to keep the horses safe and warm away from the harsh chill of the winds and rain. Joel gave a grunt of confirmation and he opened the inside door to enter the house, shaking his head a bit to rid his hair of some of the dampness.

As the garage door shuttered gently to the ground, you turned to follow Joel up to the third floor of the safehouse and gave a firm pat against your horse as you walked by. Joel had already begun turning on the small lamps that were sparsely laid around the stairwell to make sure you didn’t trip. This was one of the few three story homes that were still viable despite how broken everything was inside. The walls still had some insulation but the dust and debris were stark reminders of everything that had been lost since the cordyceps virus took the world by storm. 

When you reached the landing, your stomach was in knots, Joel’s behavior wasn’t unusual per say but he was rarely like this with you on scout missions, often being more in the moment with you than his usual reserved self. Being outside of Jackson, the two of you had to communicate in order to stay alive, everybody did. It was the only means to survival but his behavior was beginning to worry you more and more.

You removed the rifle from your shoulder then leaned against the doorframe of the master bedroom, watching as Joel signed in both your names on the sheet on the desk that had been pulled in the room. He sighed heavily and turned to face you, “I don’t think we’ll make it back to Jackson anytime soon with the rain.”

“You’re probably right.” You pushed off from the doorframe and shrugged off your backpack, reaching for the long-range radio. You shifted it in your hands before clicking it on.

“Base, this is Athena’s Mark, please be advised we are hunkering down at the last checkpoint. Rain is too heavy to travel. Over.”

After a couple moments passed, you heard the tell-tale sign of a response with static then a click before Maria’s voice rang out. “Athena’s Mark, your message has been received. Notify Base if there’s any sightings out there. Stay safe you two, over and out.”

You looked up from the radio in your hands and saw Joel leaning against the desk with his arms wrapped in front of his chest. He looked at you and you gave him a soft smile before fully entering the room and setting your weapons and backpack down beside the large bed that was still in rather good condition all these years later and sitting on it.

“Y’know you never told me why your code name was Athena’s Mark,” he asked from behind you, watching as you began to unlace your boots.

You smiled as you recalled the memories. “When I was still running with the Fireflies I would sneak over to the Humanities department and steal some of the abandoned books from the offices. One of the rooms belonged to a Greek historian and I found their book on mythology,” you explained without looking up. “By the time I arrived in Jackson, I still had a few of those books in my possession. One day Maria and I got drunk and she called me Athena as a joke but the name stuck with me on missions.”

You laid the unlaced boots on the floor and laid down in the bed, listening to the rain patter against the roof and windows, drowning out all the outside noise. “She said I looked like a goddess of war when I had blood on me, fighting to protect Jackson.” You threw a hand behind your head and stared at the ceiling before continuing. “If the world hadn’t gone to shit, I’d like to think that’s what I would have done with my life. Become a historian or something.”

“I think I would have liked to see you like that,” Joel said in his gruff voice. You smiled at his words.

“What would you have done?”

“I was a carpenter, and even wanted to start my own business. Work was shit to come by but it paid the bills.”

You smiled, remembering all of his wood carvings in the spare bedroom of his house. “If bills weren’t an issue back then, what would you have wanted to do,” you prompted instead.

“I wanted to be a singer but with Sarah and all,” he trails off. You remembered him admitting this once, forever ago but now the candor feels different because he said her name.

Sarah.

You sit up from the bed and look at him, the broad strong man he is, looks like he’s a million miles away. His eyes are unfocused and his face looks conflicted. You get up and take tentative steps towards your boyfriend. “Joel?”

He looks up at you and unfurls his arms from his chest, instead opening them up at you. You walk to him a bit more confidently and walk straight into his embrace as he wraps his arms around your frame. He buries his face into the crook of your neck while you encompass him and rest one of your hands on the nape of his neck, your fingers gently dancing in his dark hair.

“I love you,” he says, his voice hoarse and thick with emotion. His arms wrap around you tighter, pulling you closer into him. “I think she would have liked you.”

You try to pull back a little to look into his eyes but his grip only tightens around you, refusing to let you budge. “I think I would have liked her too, Joel.”

For a man of few words, the ones he spoke have taken your heart by storm. The two of you have been together for a while but the intimacy between you has rarely been like this.

He stays like this for a few more minutes, composing himself. You play with his hair with one hand and the other draws random circles across his back. Silently telling him you’re there for him. After these moments pass, Joel pulls his head back from the crook of your neck to start leaving a trail of kisses there, his beard leaves a scratchy but familiar burn across your skin.

Without using words, he’s telling you how much he loves you, how much he cares, how much it pains him when you’re not together, and you bask in it. “Joel,” you whine as his kisses suddenly shift to small sucks and bites on the sensitive skin on your neck.

“Come here,” he demands slowly, finally bringing his lips to yours.

As the two of you kiss, he tangles his fingers in your hair, his other hand kneading the flesh on your ass. Joel has you melting in his hands as your worries fade. You figure today was rough on him and you’re more than happy running away from the anxiety.

The two of you do this dance with each other's lips until he pushes off the desk, advancing to his full height towering over you. He doesn’t let you break the kiss instead he presses harder into you deepening it.

The more he wordlessly asks, the more you feel like you’re drowning in him, his scent, his touch.

Joel places both of his hands on your hips as he pushes you backwards, walking you to the bed. The backs of your knees hit it and you stumble a little but his sturdy warm hands keep you from falling down. He breaks the deep kiss the two of you were sharing, both just slightly out of breath but heavily disheveled. A shuddering intake of breath and he leans his forehead on yours, his eyes closed. “Will you have me?”

“Yes,” you sigh against him. “Please.”

Just as you slightly beg, any worried thoughts you had were whisked away as he removed your denim jacket from your body. His large calloused hands worked their way back up to your head, his fingers getting tangled in your hair, gently pulling you back so your neck was exposed.

He gently laid kisses up and down your jaw, taking sweet time and care with you.

Your hands drifted up his torso, unbuttoning his soaked red and black flannel. Once the last button popped, you moved your hands across the expanse of his chest, pushing both his flannel and brown coat off him.

A deep groan rises from Joel’s throat, “Easy now.”

He takes a step back and fingers at the hem of your shirt, pulling it off your body. You rush a little and put your hands behind your back, undoing your bra. Joel watches you silently as you discard the article to the side of the bed where your shirt lay on the floor with his.

His hands return to your body, working themselves at your jeans and he pulls them down, gently easing your leg out of each pant leg. He’s being so gentle with you, being so vulnerable and soft.

You stand in front of him as he remains kneeling in front of you, still in the position he was when he removed your jeans. He leans forward and rests his head on your stomach and you feel his breath over your panties.

“May I,” he asks, fiddling with the elastic waistband.

Your fingers catch in his hair as he pulls back, looking you in the eye when you grant him permission, “Yes.”

His eyes study you as he tentatively pulls your panties down, letting them fall. He comes back against your skin, kissing from the tops of your thighs and makes his way upwards across your stomach, between the valley of your breast, your chest, and neck, before finally coming back and kissing you on the lips.

“Get on the bed for me, will you?”

“Uh-huh,” you mumble, lost in this tender moment with your lover.

Naked and kneeling on the bed, Joel fixes his stare on you, taking his time to unbutton his belt then jeans. His eyes trail over your body, watching as you begin to squirm under his watch.

He pushes forward and kneels on the bed before maneuvering himself to lean back against the headrest. He grabs your leg to swing over his thighs to make you straddle him but his hands stay at your waist, keeping you from fully sitting on his clothed cock by giving attention to your breasts, licking and biting gently as he did with your neck not moments before.

“You’re breathtaking.”

A giggle leaves you at his words aligned with feeling overstimulated by the way his mouth and beard felt on your skin. “Joel, please.”

“Settle down, you heathen,” he says between nips and kisses. You feel him smile across your skin as he pulls you down onto the sheets, coming back to your lips to kiss you more and more. His hands encompass your body, roaming up and down the valleys on your skin, completely enamored with you. 

“Make me,” you tease against his lips.

Joel takes this as a challenge and he sits up, leaving you prone against the pillows. He towers over you, his thick fingers dancing gently across your skin, making a winding trail down your body. “Please,” you begged softly.

Joel said nothing as he sank two of his rough fingers into you and laid down between your thighs to suck and lick at your clit. Your hands flew to his shaggy black hair, taking a sharp inhale at the sensations. Joel eats you out nervously, taking pride in the way you moan to the walls of the empty house. Your sharp intakes of breath get lost under the patter of rain against the roof and windows.

“I love you,” he says against your heat. “I love you so fuckin’ much.”

Your breath is already stolen away at the way he fucks you with his mouth and fingers but you’re breathless by the way he admits his love for you. The vulnerability of it makes you come against his tongue.

“That’s my girl, that’s it.”

His approval and praise send you soaring but he doesn’t slow down his efforts, instead going faster. Before you could even come down from the blissful high of an orgasm, another tidal wave is rising again. “Joel, I’m coming again,” you whine.

“Come as many times as you want,”

He leaves another trail of kisses across your stomach as he makes his way back to kiss you on your lips. You can feel your wetness on him, taste yourself on his tongue and you moan into him. 

“Lay down, let me treat you,” you say in a low voice as you try to push Joel against the bed. He leans up and puts his hands on your wrists, stopping you.

“No, tonight is about you.”

“Wha-,” he cuts you off with another opened mouth kiss on your lips, he keeps kissing you down your neck to your left  arm, not stopping until he’s kissing your hand.

“Have I ever told you how pretty you are,” he whispers against your palm. “The first time I saw you, I fell for you. You had your gun pointed right at me, coulda killed me.”

“I’m glad I didn’t.”

He huffs, hot breath hitting your hand. “I sure as hell am too.”

He drops your hand and shifts on the bed, removing the last piece of cloth covering his erect cock, “I think I woulda let you toss my ass around that first day I laid eyes on you, if I’d known then what I know now.”

“You almost didn’t let me go with you, remember,” you tease.

“Would’ve been the biggest regret of my damn life, sweetheart.” He drops his boxers to the floor, not taking his eyes off you.

“Tell me again, Joel.”

He line’s himself up with you, “I’m glad I found you.” He gently thrusts only the head of his cock into you and pulls out. “I’m glad you never put up with my bullshit.” He repeats his movements but pushes a little more into your wet cunt. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.” Finally he pushes himself all the way in, eliciting a sharp whine from you. “Fuck, I’m so lucky.”

Your lover pushes back your thighs, allowing him to fuck you deeply. His movements stir that insatiable beast inside you, constantly lingering for more and more pleasure.

He sinks harder and faster into you as his warm hands grasp your hips, his eyes trained on the way your soaked pusst takes him so deeply. He’s locked on the sight of the way the two of you are connected just as how you are mesmerized by watching him.

“Do you feel as good as I do, darlin’?”

You respond by squeezing around his cock, “You feel so good in me.”

It was like he got a second wind by the way he fucks you even harder than before. You throw your head back as you feel the familiar rumble in your abdomen and you squeeze your legs around him, not allowing him to pull out further. Joel surprises you by using two fingers to rub tight circles against your clit. 

You bite down on your lip to try and contain the coming moan but fail. He feels too good in you, on top of you. His scent invades your mind bringing you to the ultimate climax. Your head is tossed back and a throaty loud moan is released into the air by you.

“Joeljoeljoel,” you plead, coming again against him, your legs spread so far to allow him to penetrate you deeper. Your orgasm rolls through you like waves and your body lifts in response, searching for more, more, more. 

He continues to pound harshly into you, not swaying in pace. “You’re so beautiful when you come around me, feels heavenly too,” he moans above you. The hand he had tangled in your hair moves to your jaw, his thumb caressing your bottom lip as you sigh, coming down from your high.

Joel’s thrusts soon turn erratic and sloppy as he chases his own high, you hear a deep growl rise from his throat. “Fuck, shit,” he breathes, pulling out of you swiftly, pouring himself over your stomach.

You reach up and thread your fingers in his hair, pulling him up for a kiss. You praise, “Good boy.” 

Vulnerable, Joel laughs and sits up on his knees to look down at you. Basking in your afterglow with remnants of his love smeared across the expanse of your stomach that reflected in the soft glow from the lamps and setting sun. He fingers his own hair with both hands, sweeping his messy locks back. 

He gives you an indecipherable look that he hides by shifting off the bed and rummaging through his backpack insearch of a rag to clean you with. He returns and does his usual routine while you lie on the bed, feeling warm and safe.

He returns to the bed and you crawl on top of him, seeking to add his warmth to yours to fight away the rainy chill. His arms wrap around your back, holding you close. Refusing to let you move away.

Together, the both of you came down from your blissful highs, your breaths synchronizing into calm and slow inhales and exhales. You laid your head on his shoulder, dancing your fingers along his chest drawing nonsensical designs. The two of you laid like that for a while, you listened as his headbeat fluctuated from steady to rapid and back as if he was working himself up. Just before you open your mouth to ask if he was alright, he took a sharp inhale.

“I’ve been thinkin’,” he starts.

“Oh, no. Nothing good comes from you thinking,” you laugh, hoping to ease his mind.

Joel squeezes your hip and pulls you closer, “Hey now, none of that shit.” You laugh a little more at teasing him before he takes another sharp inhale as he continues. “As I was sayin’, I know this isn’t conventional, hell, none of this is conventional,” he gestures wildly in the air, “but I was wonderin’ if you’d do me some kind of honor and make me your husband.”

This knocks the breath out of you, more than the wonderful dick down he just gave you. You lean up and face him, trying to make eye contact but his stubbornness doesn’t let him take his gaze off of the ceiling.

“Joel, are you serious,” you ask.

He furrows his brow before letting go of your body and getting up from the bed. You’re about to start protesting when you see him reach for his own backpack and pull out a wooden box before he sits back on the bed and stares at it hard.

“Y’know I was married before. Back then. I never wanted to do it again, especially not in this world. But then I met you. That shit don’t compare to how much I love your ass. You’re smart, you keep this old man in check, and most of all,” he looks at you, “we don’t get to take life for granted any more. Not when every time we leave Jackson could mean we don’t make it back alive. I want to marry you in every meaningful way, even if you are a goddamn brat.”

As he says this, your eyes fill with tears and you sit up on the bed, facing him. “Is that why you’ve been so quiet today?”

He nods once, “What? You make me fuckin’ nervous.”

You smile wide and lay your hands on his, over the box. “I love you, Joel Miller, you stubborn old bastard. Now gimme the damn ring”

Joel lets out a sharp laugh at your words and lets a smile hang on his lips. He opens the box and hands it to you where you see a beautiful silver ring with a delicate floral design. A gasp leaves you as you take it in, how intricate and ornate it looks.

“Talked to the blacksmith and got it made for you especially,” he explains.

You take the ring from the box to admire it closer before Joel takes it from you and places it on your ring finger. “You had Gustavo make this for me?”

“I told him your favorite flowers and he did the rest.”

You’re too stunned to speak by his admission. He knew of your love and attachments to the old blacksmith which made this ring that much more beautiful in your eyes. You pull the elegant ring out of the box, treating it like it’s fragile before placing it on your finger.

“I’ve been wanting to marry you since you saved my damn life,” he admits. “But it wasn’t until last night when I told you about Sarah without feeling angry or sad when I knew it was time.”

His confession wells tears in your eyes again, his long since passed daughter was always a subject the two of you danced around, even his ex-wife. Him talking about this, about Sarah, it means he’s nearly ready to open up and it means the world to you.

“Does this mean I finally get to teach Ellie how to throw knives now?”

“Absolutely not, what the fuck?”

[nerdypanda3126]

Playing with Fire

Hope you had a Happy Valentine's Day, @bloody-no-kissu! I stepped in as your @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers secret admirer 😁💖

The prompt I chose to go with was: fantasy, the princess falls for the dragon instead – marinette is a princess and bc of a curse she is locked in a tower with a dragon (luka). while she waits for the destined knight to save her from her curse she spends more and more time with luka. they fall in love.

So I did take a few liberties on this to weave it together, but I really hope you like it! Huge thanks to @writtenbyrain for the beta read on this!  

Read on Ao3 

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Marinette had been told the story of her curse so many times she could recite it by heart. 

“You were a baby,” her dad would tell her. “A tiny little thing, still all wrapped up in diapers. And that… thing—” he always growled at that, as if the dragon she’d been found curled up with had personally insulted him. He would shake his head, and give her a pitying look. “—It stole you from us. And by the time we found you, you were already cursed… already...” he would gesture to her at that point, indicating the way she was every night as soon as the moon slipped above the horizon.

Every night she was engulfed in a blue flame that made it impossible for anyone to come near. Impossible for her to be touched. 

What she was never able to find out, though, was why. Why the dragon had apparently chosen her to curse, why it hadn’t killed her outright when she was barely out of diapers. Why she kept dreaming of sleeping safely within its coils, her fire cooled as if that was where she had always belonged. 

She knew where it lived now. Everyone knew. It had taken up residence in a lonely tower high up on the mountain. Everyone said it was guarding a valuable secret; why else would it be there? Of course, people had tried to find out, although they often came back singed and babbling. Something about a dark sorcerer or a beautiful prince or a shapeshifter or… the stories always varied. 

Finally, a reward was offered. The dragon had been a menace for far too long, the writ proclaimed. Anyone able to bring back its head would be handsomely compensated.

More people flocked to the cause: soldiers from far away places wearing shiny armor and bearing sharp, glinting swords, sorcerers with staffs and books claiming they had this method or another to calm the beast. None of them returned. 

Night after night, Marinette’s flame burned hotter, brighter. And night after night she dreamed of the dragon. She couldn’t tell anymore what was memory and what was a dream. She thought she remembered the dragon plucking her from the river she’d fallen into, breathing life and fire into her lungs, curling up around her to keep her warm until her parents found her. But that couldn’t have been true. The dragon was dangerous, everyone said so. And it had left her with this unbearable curse. 

“I’m going after it,” she proclaimed to her parents after the worst night she'd had in all of her eighteen years of bearing the curse. 

Her dreams had been strong that night. She had awoken to her mom shaking her, screaming, desperately pleading with her to wake up. Her hands and arms up to the elbows had been irreparably burned in the process. It wasn't until Marinette had struggled into consciousness that she realized she’d been burning their house down in her sleep. 

Her parents shared a look after her declaration. One of, “We shouldn’t let her, but what else can we do?” 

Marinette winced as she caught a glimpse of her mom’s burned forearms, still wrapped in bandages and salves to soothe the shiny, blistered skin underneath. Her eyes slid over to the corner where she slept, with only her silhouette outlined in the charcoal her fire had left behind. 

“I have to do this,” she said resolutely. “If there’s one good thing to come of this—” she gestured to herself and to the flames that spit and crackled around her “—it means I can’t be burned if I go at night. With the money, you can fix what happened. I'll stay in the stone tower after the dragon's gone where I can't hurt anyone else. Everyone wins," she finished glumly. 

Her dad sighed in resignation and wrapped an arm around her mom’s shoulders.

So the next day just before dusk, they packed a meal for her to take with her, kissed her fondly on both her cheeks, and waved goodbye as she started up the path. 

For it was goodbye. A sacrifice Marinette was more than willing to make. 

As she trudged up the mountain path, the forest grew darker and more foreboding. The only saving grace was that as the light faded, her flame started burning, providing her with light to see by, although she did catch a branch or two on fire as she went. She poured her water out carefully on each one, putting it out without wasting her own resources. If she ran out before she made it to the stone tower, it was entirely possible she’d burn the entire forest down, and it would spread back to her village, back to her parents’ house. 

She soldiered on, even as brambles tore at her skirt and arms, as she grew weary of walking, as she ran lower and lower on life-saving water. 

It was the dead of night when she finally reached the tower, and the dragon wasn’t anywhere in sight. She walked up to the tower using the flagstone path, admiring the well-manicured garden from afar. The tower was quiet, almost as if it was slumbering along with the dragon.

She ran her hand along the cool stone wall as she mounted the steps one by one, dreading what she might find when she got to the top. 

Halfway up, though, she ran into—well, if there was a beautiful prince trapped here, then it must be him. He was tall and pale, with a shock of dark hair and enthralling blue eyes framed by deep purple circles, as if he never slept. He seemed startled to see her at first, though she was used to that. A girl on fire was a startling sight.

But then he reached out a hand, smiling. She flinched away from him. His kind smile shifted to sympathy and he dropped his hand. 

“That’s quite a power you’ve got,” he noted easily. 

She shifted uncomfortably away from him. He didn’t seem affected by the heat she always emanated, but she was still careful not to get too close to anyone. 

“The dragon cursed me with it when I was a small child,” she said.

His head quirked sideways, as if he were appraising her or trying to remember something. When he didn’t respond, Marinette tried again. 

“I’ve come for the reward. Is it asleep?” 

“He,” the man said stiffly. “And he’s gone for now. He disappears at night. You’re welcome to come back in the morning to try your luck.”

There was a note of despondency in his tone, and he scooted past her in the narrow stairwell to continue on his way down. 

She considered continuing up the stairs, but if the dragon was gone, there was no point to it. She hesitated before she followed him—the prince, he had to be—down and back outside. 

There was a pool of moonlight in the very center of the garden, and he walked over to it and lay down as if basking in it. The sigh he let out was at once content and terribly lonely. For some reason, it pulled at her heart. She knew that feeling. She had come to terms with her curse, with her lot in life. But that didn’t make it any better when she was unable to sleep soundly without worrying about her flames burning out of control.

She came as close to him as she dared and sat cross-legged on the flagstone path. 

“You’re not… trapped here?” she asked. Every story she’d ever heard of the handsome young prince was that he was trapped, doomed, kept prisoner by the monster. 

He didn’t open his eyes, but he smiled again. “Oh, I am.” 

“But…” she glanced around. There were no fences, no guards, no magical barriers. She had walked right in, after all. “Can’t you just… leave?” 

He did open an eye at that. “Can’t you just… put that fire out?” He smirked before he closed his eyes again and settled with his face towards the moon. “I’ve been trapped here for longer than I care to remember and now…” He looked over at her again, his blue eyes glinting in the moonlight. “So are you.” 

She looked around again. Still, nothing that would prevent her, or him for that matter, from leaving. He sighed. 

“The dragon, he’s been waiting for you. That… well, some probably call it a curse, but it's more like a bond.” 

“A bond?” 

“You were a small child, you said? When it happened?” 

She nodded, and he nodded back in answer. 

“The dragon was young, too. A child in his own right. He wouldn’t have known…” He sighed and closed his eyes again. “He wouldn’t have known that if he shared his breath with a human, he’d be claiming them. Bonded with them for the rest of his life, tethered to them. Cursed to share a half-life with them.” 

“I’m… sorry... “ She struggled to comprehend what he was telling her. “You’re saying… I’ve been claimed?” 

“If I had to guess, I'd say your fire only burns at night, right? As soon as the sun sets? Maybe only while you slept at first, but it's gotten worse lately?” 

She blinked at him. Her mother’s burned arms floated back to the forefront of her memory. 

“You have a fire burning in you that’s never been yours to control. If you had stayed away from him any longer, you would’ve burnt out of control until everyone you knew and loved was dead. You’re his and he’s yours, for better or worse.” 

“I… wait… you’re saying…”

“You’re intended to be either the dragon's bride or his killer,” he finished bitterly, turning his head away from her. “Not that he has much say in the matter, either, if it’s any consolation.” 

“But if I do… kill him…” she started, grimacing at the thought, “do you think that would lift my curse?” 

“Yours and mine, too.”

“You don’t look very cursed to me,” she muttered. Other than being trapped, as he’d claimed, he seemed perfectly normal. Every bit the beautiful prince she’d heard tales of. With the moonlight falling over him, he was paler still and he looked like a marble statue that had fallen on the ground. His shaggy dark hair flopped over his ears in ragged lines, and even resting he looked tense.

To her surprise, he started chuckling, although there wasn’t any mirth to it. 

“What’s funny?” 

“Nothing,” he said, although he sat up and faced her. “I just wonder if you’ll still think that in the morning.” 

“What happens in the morning?” 

“The dragon comes back,” he said simply, and he pushed himself up to stand. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll turn in. I have a feeling I’ll sleep better knowing my savior has come at last.”

He quirked his lips in a funny sideways smile, then offered her a hand again. She shook her head at him and he rolled his eyes.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I promise.” 

She hesitated. The fear of hurting him flared strong and her fire started flickering and sputtering along with her anxiety. His eyes softened, and he reached forward, into her aura of flames. To her complete and utter surprise, his hand came through unscathed. 

“I told you, it’s okay,” he said. 

Stunned, Marinette  laid her hand in his and he helped her stand up. Her fire raced along his arm and arced over his body until he was just as engulfed as she was. But rather than being harmed by it, it seemed he was helping her with it, sharing some of the burden. In fact, when he released her, she looked down at her hands and was shocked to find that the moonlight was the only thing illuminating them. 

She looked back up at him and he smiled, although it was still tinged with sadness, and he gestured with his head to the spot of moonlight that still spilled across the grass.

She ran, giddy to be released from her curse for the first night in her entire life and fearful that it would come back before she could race back to the safety of the stone path. As she rolled in the cool grass, she couldn't help the giggles that escaped her, the pure bliss of being safe under the stars overtaking her. When she finally stilled, she sighed as she looked up at the bright, twinkling lights, unobscured for the first time. They were so clear, all the way up there, like she could reach out and touch one. She lifted her hand up and pretended she could, cupping the full moon between her hands as if she held it close.

She’d gotten so used to the flames crackling around her that without them the world seemed deathly silent. Peaceful, but eerie. 

When she sat back up and turned to look back at the path, she found that the prince had disappeared. To turn in, as he’d said, although he hadn’t told her where she might sleep.

She looked at her hands again, so foreign to her without the bright blue flames. They looked smaller. More fragile. 

Suddenly, she realized that was the one thing protecting her from the dragon. The reason she’d felt so confident in coming up here. She couldn’t be burned at night because she was already engulfed in flames. But he’d taken her flames away. He’d gifted her the ability to roll in the grass without burning anything down, sure, but he’d also stolen her protection. 

Even though her flames weren’t snapping around her, she felt the panic rise up in her chest. What if he was a dark sorcerer after all? What if it was his job to lure people here and steal their power? What if this had all been a trap? 

She stumbled to her feet and clenched her fists. He’d seemed so kind. She’d trusted him. She hadn’t thought he would steal from her.

She marched back inside, uncaring if the grass sizzled under her feet or not. The tower stairs only went up, so she followed them, winding her way up to the top, unsure of what she might say or do if she found him, but certain that she had to find him regardless.

The sound of heavy, deep breathing hit her first. It wasn’t human, that was for sure. It was something much bigger. 

She tiptoed around the last bend, her fear climbing with each step.

She held her breath as a large room at the top came into view. One wall was completely open, and there was a huge, sleek, black, serpentine figure wound tightly around itself in the moonlight that spilled into the corner. One wing was draped over its head, like a curtain.

She held her breath as she backed out of the room. 

Hadn’t he said the dragon wouldn’t come back until morning? Hadn’t he said it disappeared at night? Hadn’t he said—

She cursed the dark sorcerer, the beautiful prince, whoever he was, under her breath as she turned and tripped her way back down the stairs. He had also said she couldn’t leave, but based on the way he’d lied about everything else, that’s exactly what she would do. She would run, all the way back to her parents, to her village, even if it meant sleeping on a stone bed the rest of her life. 

As she ran towards the forest, her steps started sizzling underneath her again, and her hands started to flame up before she could stop them. Her tears dissipated before they even had a chance to fall. 

From the top of the tower, she heard a strangled cry, still inhuman, but closer to it, and filled with pain. It spurred her on, although the fire was starting to burn white around her hands, stinging her painfully, and she shook her hands, trying to put it out. The farther she ran, the more the fire seeped into her skin, making her cry out. 

There was a great whoosh of wind behind her, then footsteps, matching her pace, although more spread out. The pain was blinding, but still she pushed on against whatever unknown barrier was causing it. She cradled her hands to her chest and struggled as each step forward was now a shooting, searing, white-hot bolt of pain through her. 

Strong hands caught her from behind and pulled her backwards—the hands of the dark, beautiful sorcerer. She kicked against him, trying to pull away, but he held fast. The pain behind her eyes cleared and she realized he was taking the fire away from her again. 

“You… can’t… leave…” he huffed as he dragged her backwards. She tried to claw away from him every step of the way.

Finally, though, he’d pulled her back to the clearing and dropped her on the stone path unceremoniously. She bolted back up to her feet and he caught her around her middle and shoved her back down, moving at the same time to stand in front of her and block her path. 

“You can’t leave,” he panted again. “Or we both die.” 

“I’m supposed to believe you’re kidnapping me for my own good?” she spat and scrambled back to her feet. “And who the hell are you, anyway?” 

“Sorry. Luka. I’m Luka.” He held his hand out for her and she smacked it away. He winced. “You have every right to be upset. But listen to me. I’m just trying to protect you. You can’t leave this tower without me.” 

He was still trying to catch his breath, and she noticed for the first time that his eyes had changed to serpentine slits and there was a distinct black sheen on the backs of his hands that worked its way up his forearms.

As she watched, he grabbed her hand and shivered as she was once again engulfed in blue flames and he returned to normal. 

"We're connected," he explained softly. "We share the fire. It's mine in the morning and yours at night. Now that you've come here, you can't leave unless you're either with me or there's no fire to share, or it rips us both apart. So for your own sake, you either stay put or you kill me, do you understand?"

He released her hand, and she looked at them incredulously. That he'd taken her fire away and given it back was proof enough of what he was saying. 

"Kill you?" she asked, his words sinking in through the remnants of pain behind her eyes. "As in… you're the…the...?"

"Yes."

"But you're…" she gestured to him, to his humanness, and he shifted uncomfortably under her bewildered gaze. 

"I know. Like I said, it's yours at night. That was the first time in 18 years I've had the moonlight on my scales." 

She gasped for breath as her fire started spitting around her, casting off sparks that came dangerously close to the grass. "I can't… you're human, or half-human or… I can't… I can't do this!" 

"That's okay. Hey. It's okay." His hands hovered over hers, not quite touching her, leaving her fire with her. "What's your name? Can you tell me your name?" 

"Ma-Ma-Marinette…" she stuttered as she attempted to keep breathing. 

"Okay, Ma-Ma-Marinette." He smiled, trying to put her at ease. "Let's just take this slow, okay? Would you be willing to stay here tonight with me? We can talk more in the morning." 

"You're a dragon in the morning," she said, then a hysteric giggle burst out of her at how ridiculous that sounded. 

He chuckled with her and laid the back of his hand against hers. As her fire arced across to him, his eyes turned into slits again and his scales slid over his arm. "I don't have to be anymore." 

She gaped at him as he pulled his hand away again and slid back to humanity. 

"One night. That's all I'm asking." 

Her dream popped back in her head and she blushed even before the question was out of her mouth. "If I sleep… you know, touching you, or like, against you… would that…?" She gestured to the fire still burning around her and then to him. 

He smiled again and chuckled nervously. "Yeah, I think so. But everything's stone, so you won't burn anything down if you'd… you know, if you'd rather not." 

She considered for a moment until her curiosity got the better of her.

"One night," she agreed.

He let out a sigh of relief and gestured for her to lead the way. 

As she mounted the stone steps again, her fire—his fire, she corrected herself, he'd shared it with her—bounced off the smooth stone and flickered along with her nerves. This time at the top of the stairs, she paused to look at the room Luka had called his own for 18 years.

There was a nest of pillows piled in the corner, a stack of books with open pages fluttering in the breeze that flowed through the wide opening, a lyre leaning against the smooth wall, and bits and pieces of armor lined up along the wall like trophies. She recognized a few here and there and gulped. No wonder they hadn't returned. 

She half-turned to him, her question dying in her throat, and he pressed his lips together in a thin line.

"Tomorrow," he said, gesturing for her to continue past everything. She did, but paused before her flames touched the pillows. 

"Here," he said, and threw out a hand for her to take. Tentatively, she took hold of him and watched as he shivered and his transformation took hold. 

He kept eye contact with her as scales slithered over his arms, his hands turned to claws, wings erupted from somewhere around his shoulders, and his body elongated until it was a solid length of powerful muscle.

She slid her hand to what was about his neck and he blinked slowly at her before lowering himself to the pillows and coiling his body tightly around itself, tucking his legs in what seemed to be a familiar position. 

It was a bit awkward to maneuver herself into his coils without taking her hand off him, but they managed and he draped his wing over her, for warmth she assumed, because the breeze that was drifting in was nipping at her exposed skin. And he was warm, she realized, like having his fire returned to him made him a living furnace.

She could see it, when she twisted to look at him: a deep blue illuminating the thinner skin at the base of his neck and flaring brighter in his chest as he breathed. 

She curled into him and fell asleep with his deep, heavy breathing in her ears and his sleek scales shifting under her hands.