#two heaters cause it’s bloody cold here where i live

[mjlk88x1l]

meet my baby bunny 💓 his name is Cinnamon and his birthday is March 6!

#looovvveee him so muttchh!!!!!!!!!!! #baby #two heaters cause it’s bloody cold here where i live

[mr-starkerbutgay]

Starker: Follow the Rules

‘Wow, nice timing. You’re probably wondering what is going on right now and well I’ll tell you. I’m Peter by the way, just in case I die I would like to let you, an imaginary stranger, to know my name. Before we go into what the hell is happening I have a few questions for you, and be honest. Have you ever chose to work a shitty job for the fun of it and now you are underneath a bed, crying, and hiding from a serial killer? Well shit, so I am the only one? Well, stick around so I can use you as a coping mechanism.’

The storm outside rages on as I hide underneath one of the counselor's beds. Nothing can be heard except the rain hitting the windows and wood surrounding me. My breathing is rapid but slowly it begins to calm down. Looking around the room to see if there is an exit for me to escape through but instead my eyes land on a lifeless bloody hand poking around the corner from the bathroom. I feel like screaming but too afraid to get caught, my body freezes except for the hand that covers my mouth. The cabin reeks of death when it used to smell like lavender. I had shared this cabin with my new friend Flash but from the looks of it we won’t be sharing anymore.

A door slams and the ground beneath me rattles. I lift my head to see nothing. The door must have been from the cabin over, meaning he’s getting closer. I lay here, soaked from the outside whether, wondering how the hell I got in this mess.

~wooo flashbaaak~

I run to the bus that will take me to Goldbury Lake where I will be starting my new summer job as a counselor. The bus stops for me and I haul my luggage into the door way with me.

“Goldbury?” the driver says to me. He has a green trucker styles hat and wears a black shirt with overalls.

“Yes, Sir.” I had been planning this entire trip for weeks. I am excited to see the wildlife, teach kids, and find some creepy ass shit. I have always been a huge nerd when it came to horror movies, or pretty much anything really. Horror movies are where it is at though, with the jump scares, the crappy villains, and the countless bodies. My favorite had to be Slasher films. They are just so cheesy but at the same time it is thrilling. Of course I know the Slasher movie rules. 1. Don’t have sex. 2. Don’t do anything sin wise like drugs and alcohol. 3. Do not make dum decisions or say stuff like “I’ll be right back” because no you won’t. Trust me, I wrote a 10 page essay over Slasher movies, I know what the hell I am doing. 5 summers ago there was an incident at Goldbury where 8 teenagers were brutally killed. After this rumors went around that there was a serial killer named “The Red Stark” on the loose. After months of research and hacking I have found several articles that lead to a man named “Anthony Stark”. He used to live near Goldbury Lake but mysteriously went missing 23 years ago. By the time my thoughts had stopped we had already arrived at the lake. Now it is time for me to find some shit.

~wooo flashback is overrrr~

‘Okay listen I KNOW I have it coming for me but Jesus I didn’t expect to actually find the guy. I had been snooping when I walked at least a smile away and found some guy sitting on a boat out on the lake. I remember asking him how he was doing and his eyes stared at me, with no emotion. Without looking away from me he began paddling to me. Of course, scared as shit I ran back to the camp ground.’

The window in the cabin shatters as an axe slams right into it. The axe falls near the bed and blood shines from the tip of it. The handle looked warned down from years of use. The door to the cabin swings open, two legs step into the room. Water drips from the clothes and the man, edges one foot after another until he can close the door. Heavy but peculiar steps come closer to the bed. A hand reaches down to the floor, fingertips gently looking for the handle to the axe until finally the hand grasps it firmly. His arm has blood drops and mud splattered across it, covering a tattoo of a robot. The arm disappears as the man begins to walk to the bathroom. I know the bathroom is long and it will take him time to look for me. Pondering my options I imagine what would happen when he finds me, because I know eventually he will check under the bed. But I also imagine my possibility of escape. Realizing my time is running out I slowly and quietly push myself from under the bed. I stay low enough to the ground and tiptoe to the door. Lifting my hand to the door handle I feel the cold metal touch my palm. Freedom on the edge of my tongue, I can already smell the sweet aroma of vanilla from my aunt’s house.

“Hello”, a raspy voice whispers from behind me.

I whip around faster than I have ever before and come into view with Anthony Stark, better known as “The Red Stark”. He smiles a wicked smile at me, knowing he has me right where he wants me. His hair is damp from the rain and covers his forehead. He is wearing the same shirt I saw him in earlier today, the same green Goldbury Lake t-shirt. Now up close I could see how worn down it had become, holes everywhere, blood spattered on the front, and a small name tag that says “Harley”. This name is familiar to me, because it was one of his victims 5 years ago.

He lifts the axe over his head and swings it down. My body goes into fight or flight mode as I quickly kick him away from me, just the axe barley missing my leg. Angry, he rushes towards me and grabs me by the neck, raising me up from the ground. Choking I grabs his arm, trying my hardest to gain some air. I looked around and kicked him in the balls causing him to fall back enough for me to shove him arm against the bed. I make a run for it out of the cabin, my boots becoming completely covered in mud as I make my way to the forest.

I find a large oak tree to hide behind. Gasping for air I check behind the tree to see if he followed me. I don’t notice anything, giving me a false feeling of hope. Rustling comes from the bushes next to me and my eyes dart to Stark once again swinging for me with his axe. This time I grab the handle of the axe and push against it. He pins me to the tree, putting all his weight onto the axe so it drives right into my chest. My mind focuses on survival and no matter what I don’t give up. His eyes glare at me as he leans closer.

“Stop fighting.” He pushes closer to me and the blade of the axe is only an inch away from entering my chest.

Adrenaline rushes through my body and I remember all the people that are waiting for me back home. Using these two things I push back hard enough to be able to kick his leg, making him fall back and taking him with me. We land on the ground, both stunned from the fall. I look around and notice the axe almost impaled me but now sticks firmly in the ground near my head. Stark had fallen on top of me and had unintentionally pinned me to the ground. He lifts his head up and his eyes once filled with nothingness now showed signs of curiosity. He smells of pine, leather, and coffee. Neither of us make a move to kill each other.

‘Shit I know! How could I fall in love with a serial killer? Well let me ask you this smart ass! Have you ever fallen in love? Oh alright whatever. Have you ever fallen in love with a serial killer? You’re lying! I bet you can’t beat this, have you ever fallen in love with a serial killer that just wiped out your entire camp staff? Yeah, I didn’t think so, now shut the fuck up.’

Panicking, I realize there is a clear path of survival right in front of me and I swiftly take it. I lean upwards and lock my lips with his. He freezes as my lips touch his. I once again panic because my plan isn’t working. Before I could pull back he used one of his hands to grab the back of my head, keeping me in place. His lips aren’t dry like I had expected, they were moist and tasted of cinnamon. In the cold rain the only thing I could feel was his warmth, radiating off of him like a heater. Scared to lower my guard it takes me a minute to relax but then my hand lifts up to cup his cheek. He pulls away from me and we both stare at each other, not knowing what to say.

“Fuck”, is all Stark whispers as his eyes dart from me and to the axe. He looks away back to the camp and then turns back to the axe. He wraps one hand around the axe, and pulls it from the ground. At this moment I feel my face go pale and I close my eyes, waiting for the impact. All I hear is a thud in the distance and I open my eye a bit, cautiously, to peak out and see what the noise was. The axe is not in Stark’s hand anymore. Instead it lays far away from either of them so neither of them could use it. Stark looks back down at me, this time with a sense of security in his eyes and his lips brush against mine, whispering, “I’m sorry.”

#tony stark #starker #peter parker x tony stark #peter parker #tony stark x peter parker #Tony/Peter #slasher au #marvel #fanfic

[chroniclesinlacuna]

Warmth (read on ao3)

Pairing: m!detective (Dom Traore) x Mason Warnings: mentioned past violence/blood Words: ~1.5k Rating: G Summary: Some days, you just need to not be noticed while you deal with your hurts. And some days, it's not so bad to be seen.

It was way too warm. The thought scratched at the back of his mind even as he continued watching the fire. He’d started it when he’d come into the common room - and, in his defense, he’d been freezing when he’d gotten in. A late spring cold snap had hit the town and his car’s heater was older than he was, or damn near.

Idly fidgeting with the sleeves of his hoodie, he debated tugging it off, if only to enjoy the glow of the fire for a little longer yet. The warehouse was quiet around him - too late in the evening and too early in the night for anything to rouse the team to more than routine, if that - and he was enjoying the almost isolated feeling the amber light from the fire caused - casting soft leathers and plush carpets into sharp relief and blurring out the edges.

He hadn’t had much time to come up here lately, and even when he had, more of then than not he’d catch the team on their way out, if he caught them at all. And that was fine - everything was still settling and the growing pains of setting up a new base of operations were obvious. Still, sometimes it was nice to just...show up. And not have to worry about a welcome. It was a place he could disappear into without much thought, and one he was growing to cherish.

That said.

They didn’t screw around with the amenities. The room was large and open, and still, the fireplace managed to heat it all up without much trouble, and Dom wasn’t sure to be glad of it or not. Part of the temptation of a fireplace, sometimes, was the bite of cold just at your back. Or your partner’s back, if you managed to find some company.

He heard the click of the door behind him, and he dropped against the back of the couch, tilting his head back to get a look. Mason eyed him, raising an eyebrow from the doorway.

“When’d you get in, handsome?”

Dom hummed, then shrugged and straightened again. “Bout an hour ago.”

“Something wrong?” And the tone shift is slight - so thin and thready Dom’s sure it’ll melt away with the barest assurance. Dom can practically feel Mason’s gaze on him - isn’t disappointed when Mason rounds the couch, eyeing him almost carefully.

“Nah. Just didn’t feel like going home for a bit.” The strong bend of Mason’s shoulders bends as he accepts that answer, easy as anything, before dropping down on the couch beside him - legs splayed out in front of him like he owns the place.

There’s quiet then, Dom picking up one of his legs onto the couch to rest his chin on his knee, back to watching the fire, even as he knows Mason watches him. It’s curious now, though - the sharp edge to his gaze melted into easy observation. It’s a look Dom’s gotten used to over the past couple months; one he enjoys, if he lets himself think about it.

“Aren’t you hot?” He asks, after a long couple of moments. Dom raises an eyebrow, shifting his cheek to his knee to turn to look at him. Mason pauses, then scowls slightly. “Not like that. I’ve got eyes.”

Dom grins, even as Mason’s scowl deepens. “Yeah.” He offers, shrugging.

That gets him a look in return. Dom returns it steadily.

There’s a long couple of seconds where Dom’s sure Mason will drop it. It’s skirting around that thin-as-ice barrier they’ve cut out between themselves - one they crack and shake regularly, with sharp flirting and fleeting looks and soft touches they don’t admit to. But they haven’t crossed it yet. And Dom’s not sure Mason will here, either.

But he wouldn’t like Mason nearly as much if he didn’t surprise him sometimes.

“You’re sweating. Why’d you start the fire?”

“Well, it was cold when I got in.”

“...And you kept it going because…?”

“It’s pretty.”

That gets him a soft, half-frustrated growl, and Dom at least tries to hide his smile by turning back to the fire. Well. Maybe ‘tries’ is a strong word.

“You could take off your hoodie.” Is what Mason settles on.

“Mm. Little blunt for you, isn’t it?” Even as he says it, he finds himself reaching up to pull the neck closer around his skin. The silence that follows that movement is telling, in and of itself.

There’s quiet again - one even the crackle of the fire can’t quite fill, one that swallows the edge of the amber light, blurs the line between shadow and empty at the edges. There’s dots being connected, but Dom’s not entirely sure which ones - not entirely sure he wants to know either.

He hasn’t...talked about it with anyone. Not really. Tina noticed when his pressed shirts and slacks got switched for hoodies and jeans some days. But he’s pretty sure she chalked it up to late nights and rushed mornings. And it’s not like he’d completely switched his wardrobe out.

Just...some days he dug out the old college hoodies and broken in jeans. And if those days happened to be the ones his skin felt too tight around him, the ones he couldn’t quite catch his breath right, well. No one had noticed. And he hadn’t mentioned it.

But Mason’s noticing now. And that should feel just as suffocating.

And he knows why it doesn’t.

He’s almost startled when Mason speaks again, low, careful in that way he has that makes Dom remember what it’s like to be seen, “Do you want me to go?”

He shakes his head immediately, almost before Mason’s even done asking. “It’s not…” he sighs softly, wrapping his arms around his leg to bring it to his chest again, “It’s not you.” Dom just catches, out of the corner of his eyes, the slope to Mason’s shoulders as he settles back into the couch again.

“Then what is it?”

“Again, little blunt for you.” But Dom’s smiling now, even as Mason pulls a face at him. But...well. He did ask. And it was a...a thing. Between them.

They didn’t ask. Until they did. And that space...the intent it took to cross it...he wouldn’t refuse Mason that.

“It’s...nice. Sometimes.” He pauses, turning the words over in his mouth. He hadn’t articulated this to himself in a long while, and definitely not in relation to everything that had happened, let alone out loud. “Not to be noticed. While you deal with your hurts.” And that’s exactly what it was.

Some small, fragile pain still curled up in the back of his mind, screaming and screaming and screaming around a bloodied throat that could only gasp even as he choked. Wanting to run and hide in the dark of that warehouse and not draw anymore attention than it already had in its frailty.

Learning to live with that frailty again.

He had overcome Murphy. It hadn’t been easy, and he still remembers grey eyes, piercing against a backdrop he can’t see anymore, even in his nightmares. But he had done it. And he’d come out the other side. Some days, that was enough.

And some days...it just wasn’t. It wasn’t anything to cry over - at least, not anymore - and the bad days were fewer and farther between. But Dom was having to relearn how to be comfortable and confident in his own head. And he was getting there, slowly but surely, he was getting there.

“...Think you’d try harder not to be noticed there, handsome. A hoodie hardly does it,” And it’s weak, compared to his normal fare, but it’s also warm in a way that curls around the chill in his chest that the fire hadn’t been able to, and Dom can’t help but smile. “Come on. Roasting in here is just going to make us both miserable.” And then he’s standing in front of Dom, holding out a hand.

And they didn’t do this. That chasm between them echoing blindly into the space Mason’s offering. They didn’t do this.

But they cracked and twisted and pretended they didn’t when they pretended they weren’t looking. So Dom takes his hand, lets himself be pulled up. Lets himself lean into Mason’s space without hesitation.

And Mason holds them there, his free hand coming up to brush lightly down Dom’s neck in a way that should be...should be sharp. Should be wanting.

He finds comfort there instead. An acknowledgement. And a secret held.

“Nate bought that tea you like.” Weird, considering he hadn’t told Nate any such thing. Not that he’d put it past Nate to figure it out - lord knows he’d been at Dom’s place - office and apartment - enough to have picked up a pattern or two. But for one secret kept, Dom’s willing to hold another.

So, he just hums, and let’s Mason tug him out of that too warm room.

#the wayhaven chronicles #twc #agent m #my writing #my detectives #dom traore #still figuring out mason but I like how this came out I think #long post #dominicxmason

[poorboypictures]

Major America: Ch. 1

Jordon Wilkinson was seven years old when he first learned of Captain America; he and his siblings were told by their grandfather of the time he fought beside Captain America and Bucky in World War II. All were enthralled, but none more than Jordon himself. Jordon began reading all he could about the Captain’s escapades before and during the war, learning his origin, his identity, and his disappearance; taking the hero to heart, Jordon stood up for those who couldn’t stand for themselves throughout his life, even joining the military after the Twin Towers fell, serving seven years before a hip injury took him out of action permanently. In 2012, Captain America resurfaced and Jordon was thrilled to have him as a moral standard in the country again, only to notice a change in the hero over the years.

***

2021, nine years after Captain America was freed from the ice; Major Jordon Wilkinson sits in a security office picking at his spaghetti and meatball lunch, staring intently in thought. Wally Gertz, his partner, is fidgeting with a Rubik’s Cube keychain with his feet up.

“Something wrong?” Wally asks.

Jordon blinks a few times and looks over at Wally. “Hmm?”

“Lunch ended ten minutes ago and usually you finish in five minutes just to keep watch on the feed.”

“No, I just have a lot on my mind.” Jordon takes a bite of his lunch as Wally puts away the cube.

“We’ve been working the same shift together for three years, Jordon; I would think I can read you well enough.”

Jordon sighs and pushes his lunch away before leaning back in his chair.

“You know the phrase ‘never meet your heroes’?”

Wally takes his feet off of the desk and leans forward. “You met him? You met Captain America?” He asks, eyes wide.

Jordon slowly nods. “The saying is true. At least, it wouldn’t have been if I met him when he came out of the ice. He’s changed and I think society was what did it; a man out of time, trying to keep up with the seventy years he missed, and I believe it corrupted him.”

“Sounds plausible; society is a bit of a mess these days.” He straightens his hat. “It’s a shame someone can’t just grab the shield and say ‘I’m the Captain now’.”

Jordon stops completely, an idea forming.

***

Later that day; Jordon is in his apartment on his computer, looking for a shield.

“The shield is the easy part.” He says to himself. “It’s the costume that will be hard to get; how am I going to get an extra thousand dollars for an accurate costume?”

He pauses as something dawns on him.

“Hang on…”

He gets up, grabs his phone, and calls someone as he sits back down at the computer.

“Hello?” Georgie Berke answers the phone.

“Georgie, it’s me, Jordon.”

“Hey, Jordy! How are you doing? How was your nephew’s birthday?”

“Loud, and disruptive, but I love him, so I didn’t leave. So, hey, I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“How does one get an accurate costume?”

“Jordy.” She says teasingly. “Are you getting into cosplay?”

“Georgie, I’m 43 years old, I don’t do cosplay.”

“I’m 37, Jordy, what’s your point?”

“My point is-.” He says with a tad of frustration. “I want an accurate costume and I would like to know how to get one for a good price.”

“Weeelll… if you had an extra small fortune to spend on one you could do that.”

“Nope.” Jordon shakes his head. “I have bills to pay.”

“Then you could make a costume with your own twist, I’ve seen plenty of cosplayers use this method to save a buck without having to get a cheaply made costume.”

“That sounds doable. Thanks.”

“May I ask what exactly this is for?”

“… No. Bye.”

He hangs up, opens a new tab, and begins searching for his costume-with-a-twist.

***

One week later; Jordon is in his apartment listening to a police scanner app on his phone as he peals masking tape off of the recently painted heater shield; just as Jordon finishes taking the tape off, dispatch warns of an attempted robbery at a nearby bank.

“That’s a mile from here…” Jordon says to himself as he looks at his partly assembled costume on the couch; he looks at the shield and back to the couch, wondering whether he should go without a complete costume.

Jordon sighs and quickly puts the costume on, wearing the shield on his back like a backpack; he jumps down the fire escape and onto a red 2013 Harley-Davidson Breakout, tearing out of the alley way and down the street.

Literally a minute later, Jordon pulls into the alley next to the bank and walks into the rear entrance to hear two men trying to break into the safety deposit boxes; he sneaks up behind them, pulls out his gun, pistol-whips one crook, knocking him out, and knocks out the other with his shield, only for the resounding “clang!” to catch the attention of the crook standing guard at the other side of the room.

The crook shouts at Jordon. “HEY!”

Before Jordon can turn around and shield himself, the gunman shoots him in the thigh and side; Jordon holds in a scream of pain as the gunman empties his magazine into the shield; as the gunman tries to quickly reload, Jordon sprints forward at full speed and punches the man out cold only to find himself in front of the remaining three robbers ready to fire on him.

“Oh, crap…”

Jordon ducks behind the shield as the three men fire at him, emptying their magazines; they stop to taunt him as they reload.

“You supposed to be Captain America or something, man?” One asks.

“He’s got a round shield, you imbecile!” Another taunts.

Jordon takes a deep breath, blocking out the pain from being shot, and pulls out his gun.

“Come on, just like in the military.” He whispers to himself

He stands up and hits the first two gunmen in the shoulder without effort, but he and the third gunman fire at the same time; Jordon hits the gunman in the shoulder same as before, and the gunman hits Jordon in the bicep. The gunman goes down and Jordon holsters his gun, his breathing shaky; he looks around at the employees and citizens getting up from the floor.

“Is everyone okay?” He asks, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

A man in a suit nods. “Yes, we’re fine, but you need a doctor.”

“I’ve suffered worse, trust me.” Jordon says as he turns to go back the way he came in.

“Wait!” A woman calls. “What do we call you?”

Jordon stops and looks back. “I’m… Major America.”

He heads to the back of the bank to leave.

***

Soon, in Georgie’s apartment, Georgie is watching the news as she sips from a cup of tea; the news anchor is reporting on the bank robbery when the footage of the fight is played on screen. Georgia spews her tea out, coughing.

“JORDY!?”

***

In Jordon’s apartment, Jordon is sitting at his dining table stitching up the wound on his side when his front door bursts open, causing Jordon to jump as Georgie bolts in.

“Why didn’t you tell me!?”

Jordon grabs some gauze and puts pressure on his wound that has begun bleeding again.

“I really need to lock my door more often.” Jordon says, wincing. “Can you pass me that whiskey?”

He points to the bottle on the kitchen counter and Georgie hands it to him, watching as he takes a swig.

“Why are you drinking while stitching yourself up?” Georgie asks. “How do you even know how to stitch a wound?”

Jordon continues stitching.

“Back in Iraq our field medic got hit by a frag grenade along with a couple others; the anesthetic was apparently hit and drained out so we raided the basement of a bombed bar and the medic taught me how to stitch a wound because I had the steadiest hands.” He takes another swig of whiskey. “Sometimes the old ways are the best.”

He finishes stitching the wound and places some gauze over it.

“Can you hold that while I wrap the wound?”

“Fine.” Georgie huffs as she holds the gauze in place. “Just tell me what you were thinking when you decided to do this?”

“What are you? My mother?” Jordon quips as he finishes wrapping his wound. “I’m a grown man who can make his own decisions.”

“Not when they get you nearly killed!”

Jordon stands up and puts his shirt back on.

“I fought for seven years in a country that hated my guts, I can stand to fight a few more in another country that hates my guts. Doesn’t matter what you say, Georgie, I won’t stop what I’ve started.”

Georgie sighs and crosses her arms in a huff.

“No, you’re right; you’re an adult.”

She notices his bloodied costume and picks up the sweater.

“Also, what kind of costume is this? A baby could do better!”

“The gloves and jacket hadn’t arrived yet, they’ll be here in a couple of days.”

Georgie looks at him, cocking an eyebrow.

“Are you… Are you cropping a jacket?”

“… Noooo…” Jordon answers reluctantly.

“What color is the jacket?”

“Blue…”

“The only way you’re going to get the look you want is by cropping the jacket.”

“Fine! Yes, I’m going to crop the jacket!” Jordon winces and holds his side after the defeated outburst bothers his wound. “Okay, back to small talk.” He says, pained.

Georgie picks up Jordon’s helmet and mask and gives it a once over.

“Where did you get this?” She asks.

“The helmet was my grandfathers; quick coat of paint and it was perfect.” He takes a swig of whiskey once again. “The mask I found at an antique shop; the tag said it was an aviator’s mask used in the war, but I’ve never seen one like this before.”

“And the shield?”

“Got that online, bought three and tested two of them on my uncles range to see what guns they could handle; surprisingly a lot. I’m going to have to buy more after a while though, I’ll need to make a budget for that.”

“You really are serious about this, aren’t you?” Georgie asks, pulling a chair up next to Jordon.

“I am.”

“Why, though? What on God’s green Earth would get you to do this?” She asks, genuinely concerned.

“America needs a hero who will truly fight for them, a hero who understands what it means to be the little guy, America needs an underdog; do you think Ironman understands what it’s like to live paycheck-to-paycheck, or if Thor understands what it’s like to get mugged and you can’t pay your rent by the end of the week?”

“Probably not…” Georgie says.

“We rely too much on them; yeah, they’ve saved the world, but we don’t need Black Widow to find a stolen car. I’m going to try to be like that spider guy in Manhattan; he sticks to one area and does it well.”

Georgie stands up and stretches.

“If you’re going to do something stupid, I may as well help: if you find any information you can’t track just call me and I’ll see if I can find anything for you; I’m pretty good with computers, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll see you Monday.”

Georgie smiles and leaves the apartment.

***

A couple days later; a young man is being mugged by two men in an alley way, getting beaten; someone clears their throat and the muggers stop and turn to look down the alley to see Major America wearing a complete costume.

“Alright, boys, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.” He says.

The muggers look at each other and pull their knives.

“Hard way it is.”

He raises his shield and jumps into the fray.

End.

The Incomplete costume.

The Complete Costume.

Don't judge the art too harshly, I know what I have to work on I don't need people pointing it out.

Also, I suck at writing origins, I'm better at writing stories where the reader is assumed to know exactly who the characters are.

#captain america #america #major america #star spangled man #patriotism #patriot #original character #oc art #oc artwork #oc insert #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfics #fanfic writing #oc insert au #au #alternate universe #art #artwork

[blankdblank]

Brother Dearest Pt 14

Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3 - Pt 4 – Pt 5 - Pt 6 -  Pt 7 - Pt 8 - Pt 9 - Pt 10 - Pt 11 - Pt 12 - Pt 13

Familiar sights after days of travel and stops along the way to fill seven more rolls of film came into view for the brothers to lean into your and Eddie’s sides to hear all about the city you both had missed. All at once you were in the bustling station and felt the passing people causing a billow of your polka dot skirt as your fingers smoothed over the vest covering your cuff sleeved blouse easing the temperature of the warm day. Bags in hand you walked behind Eddie, whose larger frame helped to split the crowds of Brooklyn. Out of the station you went and James’ hand molded into yours after your second glance back at the pair making him chuckle and say, “Still here. Gonna be hard to lose us.”

Victor chuckled after seeing the pair of children on the shoulders of their dad and uncle passing by making faces at one another and said, “Not a chance in hell of losing us. It always this crowded?”

Eddie said, “Just give it a few blocks.” Stopping at the corner to wait on the light in the growing then waning to a barely noticeable few as you crossed to your third block.

Shops came into view and between more scattered faces of people stealing glances at you. More and more it became obvious that people were staring at you and it wasn’t from the usual reasons. Clearly your face was familiar and people were trying to place it halting them in their tracks but it wasn’t until you passed a little old lady with a wheeled cart holding her groceries who turned, “Bunny Rogers, while I live and breathe. How have you been?”

“Good Miss Cahn. Been in Canada through winter.”

Her eyes skimmed over you and trailed up James and she asked, “Are you Catholic?”

James’ head gave a subtle shift, “No.”

“Mmm.” Her head turned and James couldn’t help but smirk in a glance at his boots then to her as she looked straight to Eddie, “And have you made anything of yourself yet, little Brock since the war ended?”

Eddie shook his head, “Been working in a pool hall.”

“Mmm.” Turning on her heel she added in a glance at you, “Mind your company Bunny. Someone has to steer you away from a fiery future.”

“Thank you Miss Cahn,” you and Eddie said making Victor snort behind his hand that smoothed over his face.

To the sight of her back he said, “Charming. That common?”

Eddie, “For her, yes.”

Victor, “I’m sure we can win her over.”

In a giggle you replied, “She’s was married twenty years and even he couldn’t win her over.” Making the pair chuckle to themselves. “Don’t worry about it. She’s far from the gossip center of town.”

Eddie nodded, “Yes, Miss Pepper is the one you want to win over.”

Another couple blocks over and on the way to more shops the still standing portion of the nightlife scene on the opposite end of town from the art district with homes between and all around the city. New faces mingled past you and in naming what you passed for the brothers Eddie led the way past a bouncer who made you smirk at his tossing a man out shouting, “Go home Ben, sleep it off.” Though when he turned to eye your group at Eddie’s pat on his shoulder a grin cracked across his face and in seeing your grin at him his intended hello to his boss’ kid cracked off and died in the air.

Through the door you walked into the smoke filled hall you strode and you could hear Eddie’s brother in law behind the bar saying to the bartender, “Who told you vermouth goes in a bloody mary?”

The bartender answered, “Bobby-,”

“Bobby scrubs the floors! He’s never even drank vermouth, can’t even spell it!” he turned around shouting, “Bobby! Spell vermouth!”

Bobby stammered and Eddie set his bag down saying, “Didn’t have much call for vermouth four years ago.”

Dave behind the bartender’s face dropped when he turned to see him and he said, “Eddie!”

Walking closer he joined the others in a series of tight hugs asking him when he got to town and why he didn’t call before Dave looked over the brothers behind him only to lower his gaze and say, “Bunny, just look at you. Year ago you were all sweater and hair. In the best way.”

A tight hug from the brother in law came and his eyes turned to the brothers and he said, “I take it you’re the brothers, Momma Brock’s gonna love to meet you.” He looked between them, and smirked saying, “Come on, you got it Dave?”

Dave nodded and said, “July I’m buying you a drink little lady,” Making you smirk as he said to those looking on, “Bottles up to our very own Sergeant Eddie and our girl, the very first woman NCO in Canadian forces Corporal Bunny Pear.” Unable to help it you giggled and turned in the round of cheers and whistles joining the brother in law as James grabbed your bag along with his. Out onto the street you went again and into the beginning of the long stretch of houses and apartments your names rippled and echoed through the streets from people you both named for the brothers. In the passing of a second friend of your mother stunned to see you Eddie pointed out your old apartment building behind them they memorized the for sale number and address on the sign out front.

Within a few minutes a blue shingled rectangle of a home with two walkways around it and a long drive to the garage in the back came into view. From those mingling inside it bustled with noise, trotting up onto the front steps you left your bags by the wall and the brothers smirked hearing the first elated scream before Eddie was pulled into the sea of relatives tugging him left and right. Lowly between the brothers you named each relative you recognized until the brother in law had crossed the room and in his usual move to kiss his wife Ambrose’s tilted cheek his fingers turned her chin and her mouth dropped open seeing you. “Bunny!”

Snapping your eyes back to her from Victor a grin eased across your lips in meeting her halfway in her trot over to wrap you in a tight hug. Gina was next in her waddle over making you giggle again as she said, “There you are! Welcome home!”

Melting into hug after hug with none tighter than Eddie’s mother’s ending in her stepping back to look you over, “Five years, my girl you’ve grown.”

“Not really, mostly the shoes.” Making her smirk at you then look to James and Victor who stepped forward at the brother in law’s signal.

Eddie, “Momma, this is Victor and James.”

They both nodded their heads, “Ma’am.” Shaking the hands of all who greeted them at your naming them.

Momma Brock looked them over and asked James, “So you’re the fella who’s been cozying up to our Bunny. About time we get to meet you. And Victor, heard good things.”

Ambrose inched closer asking, “What were their ranks again?”

“Victor’s Lieutenant Colonel and James is Colonel.”

Ambrose smirked looking them over and Gina asked, “And you won’t be stepping in on our Bunny’s education?”

Brows inched up and James answered, “Not a chance in hell. You have every right to be cautious about me, but you have my word I will never step in the way of Bunny’s education.”

Gina, “Even for babies?”

The corner of James’ mouth ticked up, “I have no problem staying home with the babies. Money’s not an issue and I don’t have any qualms about being the arm candy to her brains.”

A round of giggles burst form the women and the brothers chuckled in their being led around the house to see the framed pictures of you and Eddie flowing into albums ending with one from the stored pictures of your family. The picture of your mother proved where you had gotten your eye grabbing figure from and the pictures of Steve’s younger years and yours proved the two different men who had raised you. Though the clear heart clencher was the final picture of you, just as Dave said, all hair and sweater with a clearly younger Eddie beside you seated on your stoop in the beginning of your friendship. They wished they could have been there to help you seeing the clear fear and pain in your face that melted in the pictures as you aged with the Brocks.

Lunch was fixed and into the packed table you all crammed joking and sharing stories of all that was missed between proud glances at the pair of you in your safe return until you were crammed in an uncle’s car to be driven over to the waiting apartment he had saved for you. The double story duplex apartment fully furnished for you welcomed you cozily inside while cousins were off shopping for you hoping to let you get an early night for your trip to Brown University the following day.

Cleaning up from the simple dinner Victor hummed as you set another of the rinsed plates to dry, “Didn’t go so bad.”

Eddie, “They loved you.”

James grinned as Victor gave you a warm hug and kissed your forehead, “Now, off to bed. Get plenty of rest.” He looked at his brother, “Sleep.”

James rolled his eyes and led the way up to your shared bedroom while the others did the same. Stripped from their suits to pajamas they climbed into bed glad to know there would be a two day gap before your tour of Barnard allowing them a break from the trains back and forth. The steady undoing of buttons left him in his pajama pants and checking the heater along the wall on his way to climb onto the bed while you eased the undone bra from the arm hole on your slip after wiggling out of your garter belt. The pair of which fell on top of your stockings and chosen dress for the following day. Turning from them you hurried across the cold floor to climb across the bed straight to James when he turned off the beside lamp, who smirked wrapping his arms around you claiming a warm kiss and leaning back against the pillow.

Snuggly across his chest you draped with your legs tangling in his while he raised the blanket to your shoulders and rested his arms across your back. A warm kiss on your forehead later and his lips ghosted across the skin there in asking, “What Miss Cahn said, asking if I was Catholic, is that important to you?”

Stealing a glance up at him you answered, “No, is it to you?”

“No. Just don’t want to make you uncomfortable if it was important to you.”

You shook your head laying it back down against his chest, “I don’t think I can be Catholic anymore, my dad wasn’t.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t be you know.” Closing your eyes you nestled closer to him and he hummed, “I love you, think it over and take your time.”

.

Brown was lovely to visit but between the male alumni, their sons hoping to attend and staff you had spoken to about possible courses it seemed like the difficulties of reaching your goals were not worth facing after the three hour train ride both ways, had you decided to live in Brooklyn while studying after all. The apartment had been promised as yours if you ended up needing it after all. Tours of the city and even spots in Manhattan on the way back again came before a large full Brock family celebration where drinks were slid your way and in their own subtle pulls to the side asking if James actually knew about your powers. Each of them calmed however when you showed them the copies of your comics they delved through loving each and every one of them.

.

Past Tullivan’s Market again you strolled past the familiar endless line of stoops, trash cans and potted plants decorating the ends of the cement railings on the stoop two over from yours. James rumbled, “Doesn’t seem as awful as I pictured. Thought it’d be a match box with a tin roof.”

“Might as well have been for how cold it got.” That made James’ hand tighten in yours feeling your pulse picking up at the base of the stoop they could see your younger self practically living on.

“Sarah-,” The redhead passing by froze looking you over with mouth open in shock until you locked your eyes on her and her nearly identical daughter. The woman the same age as your mother and her daughter nearly your age looking over the men around you. “Sorry, I thought-,”

“It’s Bunny, Sarah was my mom.” Looking her over again you said, “You must be Trix.”

Her lips curled into a smirk, “She told you about me?”

“No, I found her yearbook.”

“So, you’ve been, where have you been? And where did you meet these handsome escorts of yours?” She asked with a try for an alluring tone only to see James’ hand in yours and him inhaling in a try not to scowl openly at the woman you might want to befriend.

“I was a Medic. Eddie and me got sent out from the same Hospital and this is James and Victor, met them there.”

Her daughter, “Medic? You mean Nurse.”

Your brow inched up and her mother asked, “Ooh, very well done, head off to help the boys in battle and snag yourself a fella, or two. And, uh,” she paused to wet her lower lip, “If you don’t mind my asking what rank is the fella you’re clinging to so tightly?”

Forcing a friendly tone to mask your discomfort you replied, “James is a Colonel.”

The pair said, “Ooh.”

A honk from a passing car had a giggling squeal from the mother who waved saying, “One minute,” she looked at you again, “Good to see you, Billie,” That made you force out a grin as she said goodbye to each of the men along with her daughter correctly naming them in their trot away.

Venom hissed from Eddie’s neck, “Hideous beast of a breeder.”

Victor snorted and laid his hand across your back nodding his head, “Come on, let’s go see your old squatting grounds.”

Eddie, “You plan on breaking in?”

James smirked, “Managed to catch the number the other day for the owner, who agreed to send their realtor.”

Eddie chuckled out, “As long as it’s not that Hildi Montbrooke-,”

Nasally with a following squeak the blonde with a mountain of a bun on top of her head tottered over in a pastel pink dress with matching heels and purse making you and Eddie flash a wave at her squeal, “As I live and breathe, Bunny Rogers and Eddie Brock! I have not seen you in, oh-!”

The pair of you replied, “Hey Hildi.”

Up to you she bounced and peered up at the brothers smiling widely, “Uncle Timmy said somebody called about the old building for a showing but I’d never dreamed it was you! But I s’pose it’s fate.” Her hand waved and she turned to trot up the steps, “Come on in! Can’t say it’s improved much since you left, old man Pierce went down over Midway and his son Kevin is trying to unload it to get back to North Dakota,” in a turn to glance at you after a snorting giggle when she unlocked the door, “Not that I can think of much to call him out there. Who could leave the city?”

Her shrug came and she stepped inside and the dimly lit main second level floor and stairs up to your apartment, just one in this five story building including the ground floor level acting as the basement level. Through the locking door you passed and eyed the mail boxes in the wall across from the big mail slot on the outer wall feeding into a large box the landlady used to sort for you all. The office now sat empty and the open room in the back usually used for bike and pram storage held a few scattered boxes of old tools the former maintenance man used to own now forgotten in his move when the place emptied. Taps on walls and testing bounces across the floors were taken.

Up the steps testing the weaknesses in each one the brothers made mental note of each repair to be made. The apartment first in view was open, formerly housing an old woman and her cats with the door paint peeling and wallpaper stained and in tatters ruining the floral design across it. Yellow paint was seen under it and the worn floor boards creaked and bowed under their weight with knocks on the wall and inspection of the kitchen and bathroom proved there was something wrong with the plumbing. Glances at the light fixtures gave hint of shoddy wiring surely needed to be pulled out.

Two more apartments on the floor were visually more appealing though just as in need of repair with broken windows leaving the bars around them the only means of keeping squatters out. Small two bedroom apartments were scattered with memories and hints of what they could be for you all. Hildi guided you through each one stating her own possible decorating tricks to freshen it up for new tenants after you got the coding back to an apartment housing again after the lapse leaving it a common dwelling again.

Heavily you approached the door of your old apartment you brushed wider and stepped through. The periwinkle of your skirt and shoes reminding you of the head scarf your mother tied into her ponytail before work on her last day stirring up echoes of her humming at the spot by the window opposite you with indents of her chair. Behind you the brothers spotted Eddie’s walk to your side smoothing his hand across your back shifting your crème blouse you adjusted one of the folded sleeves to cross the room while Hildi said, “A lot of the furniture is down in the basement. They tried to have auctions for it, the families who moved took everything but, Steve’s things, well nobody felt right taking them when you couldn’t be found. Hoped you’d come back I guess.”

You nodded and tapped Victor’s shoulder stopping him from touching the wall by him saying, “Pipe from the boiler right there. Heats up the wall.”

Victor looked at James saying, “Now that’s just idiotic. And against building codes.”

You shrugged and James murmured in French, “Perhaps not so far from a death trap after all.” Making you smirk at him and guide the way into the kitchen.

“Fridge flickers out of power even when we paid the bill. Stove doesn’t work except for the back left burner and the sink tends to back up when the people upstairs took baths.”

Victor shook his head leaving the room trying not to yell at how shoddy this place seemed by his initial run through. Your mother’s room was coated in dust from years of sitting untouched, almost like a time capsule with a heavy mirror propped against the wall and in the spacious closet you glanced up seeing her rosary still hanging from the bar you had left it on that ghosted across your raised fingers.

Hildi smirked saying, “I always loved that rosary, pink opals. Where did she get it?”

“My dad bought it for her. She never left without it, Steve wouldn’t let us bury it with her.”

Hildi asked, “Have you visited him yet? Steve? Military paid for his plot next to your parents.”

“No. Not yet.”

Releasing the rosary you stepped back at James’ asking through the door, “This one your room or Steve’s?”

Exiting the closet you left her room and met him in the hall facing the room behind him saying, “Steve’s. Why?”

James smirked stepping back to cross back to the floorboard he lifted to find a metal tin he pulled out and passed to you, “He left something.”

Accepting the tin you said, “Ticket stubs and his Glenn Miller autograph. Few other bands too,” opening the tin filled with slips of paper and a roll of film alongside the heavy yellow box reading ‘Kodak Vigilant Junior Six -20’ inside the camera sat with only a single picture left. “Guess he meant to come back for them.”

James claimed the tin while Victor inspected the rest of the room only to mutter a curse at the leaking spot in the ceiling of the closet. Into the hall again he went asking, “Where’d you sleep? We’re out of bedrooms.”

Eddie sighed leading him to the closet beside the double doored bathroom with broken cabinets and the same cracked sink beside the claw footed tub rusted around the fixtures and the leaking toilet. An accordion door was slid back and what should have been a pantry beside the kitchen had the brothers nearly biting their fists seeing the shoddy built twin bed frame still holding your mattress with barely four feet around it, not counting the built in shelves you used for clothes. James asked, “They kept you in a closet?”

You shrugged and said, “I wasn’t that big and it was always supposed to be temporary. Mom said there was an opening on the next floor up a month before she died. Get a whole other room and office.”

Your eyes trailed up and theirs did too seeing fully detailed sketches of constellations and galaxies you had drawn. Victor smirked humming, “Figures you’d want stars.”

“One thing Steve and I agreed on, we both were good at art. He was a cartoonist for the paper and used to sell sketches in parks when he went for some spare cash.”

Victor, “Let’s go look upstairs then.”

On top of the tin James left at the stairs Eddie set the rosary and they followed you and Hildi up the steps around the hole in one of them, from five apartments to four the floor had laid out and more empty rooms sat with scars of the lives once housed there with ample damage as well. Pipes leaking and huge chunks of the walls missing and a giant hole in the ceiling of the living room in the last one urging Victor up to the final trio of apartments to groan at the damage from the cracked beam bowing the roof in. “Oh this is going to be painful.”

James, “Not bad though.”

“What do you mean? This is going to be painful?”

The brothers smirked at Hildi’s squeak, “You’re interested?!”

Victor nodded, “We’ll need to tear it to the bones but let’s go see the basement then we can talk numbers.”

Tightly she hugged his chest and pulled back in an elated bounce on her toes. “Oh Daddy will be so pleased!” Leading the way to the basement for Eddie and Victor while James slid his fingers along your forearm to your palm stepping closer, a stolen cup of your cheek came with a gentle kiss ending in a tapping of foreheads.

Lowly to you he murmured, “We’re going to make this place a home for you. One you’ll be safe in, be loved in while you study.” In a sideways nod of his head he stepped back lowering his hand from your cheek and keeping hold of your hand in the other for the walk to join the others.

At the doorway of the apartment he paused at your tug on his arm and grinned through your stolen peck on his cheek. “Love you, you giant cuddly grump.” Lowly he chuckled and shifted to steal another quick kiss on your lips.

Behind the others you trotted finding Eddie holding the tin and rosary all the way down to the back room again on the main floor to a door in the wall Hildi opened and said, “I’ll wait up here, not fond of basements.” Eddie left the things by the wall outside and accepted the flashlight Hildi picked up from the shelf in wall that flickered on and lit your way down into the packed ground floor. A clear path between stacks of furniture led to the laundry room with coin powered washers and dryers across from the boiler with a far from up to code fuse box way too close to the boiler.

Victor using the flashlight said, “No wonder your lights kept going out. Built the damn thing too close to the boiler. Baked all the fuses.”

James, “Supports are good though.” On his toes on top of an old crate he peered through one of the high windows, “That grass?”

You nodded, “It has a back courtyard, bout the size of our old apartment. Not much but we could have a mini garden or something.”

James smirked turning around saying, “Or a dog.”

Victor smirked, “We’re getting a dog?”

Eddie chuckled, “Just none of those little yipping ones.”

James, “We’ll have plenty of time to pick one fixing this place up.”

“How long will that take?”

Victor, “Bout a week to strip it bare to the studs. Month maybe to swap out the pipes and wiring up to code before we focus on the heating and those fireplaces upstairs. Asked for a copy of the floor plans already so when we get back to Canada we can map it all out and plan ahead for what we’re doing.”

Eddie, “How would that work?”

James, “Well, basement would be laundry and maybe pool or card table, main floor more living areas, maybe communal kitchen, guest rooms. Second floor could be yours, more guest spaces, Vic would want the top floor and we could have the third. Suites and offices for each, small kitchens for each of us with large one for all of us.”

Eddie, “So we’ll be neighbors then..”

Victor chuckled saying, “In case we want to have private time together. Breakfasts and dinners would be communal maybe with date nights to eat alone. Not to mention the library and game room, and offices for our girl here.”

“Why eat alone?”

Victor smirked saying, “Because you need a date night, and me, Eddie and Squishy can distract ourselves till he finds some squeeze of his own.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, “Doubtful.”

James smirked patting him on the back in his move back to your side, “Give it some time. For now let’s go talk to Hildi.”

“You’re sure about this?”

James smirked saying, “This is your town, your old streets, you have family here. The bones are fine just need some elbow grease to get this place into something worth the title of home.”

“It’s got to be so expensive though..”

Victor smirked, “Now’s the time to buy, whole block is being switched to single or double dwellings. Companies are jumping in on an empty strip to make some scratch while they can. Town’s getting a facelift.” He nodded his head, “Let’s go get the paperwork started.”

Eddie, “Can you buy property in the States?”

James, “We have citizenship, stayed in Montana a bit after first World War.”

It didn’t take long at the office you were taken to for the official signing of paperwork and the managing of the trade of funds. For a week the property documents would be swapped over and the funds confirmed as traded with official ownership in all senses to belong to the brothers by the end of the month.

Pt 15

#James Howlett x Reader OC #Victor Creed #Eddie Brock #Venom

[kanna-ophelia]

Chapters: 1/1. 1700 words. Rating: General 

Ineffable Husbands Week Prompt: Rain / Storm / Downpour

Additional Tags: Love Confessions, First Kiss, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Kissing, Sappy, Post-Canon, Pining Crowley (Good Omens), Happy Ending, No one can sulk like a demon, Ineffable Husbands Week 2019

On AO3 

On Wattpad

Rain

The problem with living in London was that even in Spring it rained too bloody much. And the kind of human Crowley tried to be was not the kind who carried a sodding umbrella around just in case, thank you very much.

By the time he thought of magically producing one, that is, two seconds after the skies opened, he was already drenched to the skin, and surrounded by humans who might see. He sighed, looking for a place to duck away and produce a quick black brolly, when the rain suddenly stopped falling on him.

For a moment he wondered if he had accidentally arranged for the rain not to fall on him, which tended to be a bit of a giveaway, and then he felt a soft, radiant presence beside him.

“Your umbrella,” Crowley said coldly, “has ducks on it. With tartan bow ties. Do you have any respect for my dignity?” He reached up to share a grip on the umbrella handle anyway. His hand brushed skin that somehow send a warming glow right down his cold arm.

“None whatsoever. And they’re charming."

Crowley snapped his fingers and was dry, but not warm, except where his hand was against Aziraphale’s own. He shivered.

“Cold blooded serpent,” Aziraphale said fondly. The angel exchanged hands on the umbrella handle, holding it from his right, outside hand. Crowley wondered why, and then he felt a solid, heavy arm around his back, drawing him in close by Aziraphale’s side. “Here. Body heat should help."

Crowley could feel his mind break a bit. Heat. Body heat. Yes, it was warm. And also soft. And… cuddly. What was the angel cuddling him? He never cuddled him. Could he embrace back? He’d have to exchange his own hands first. Embarrassing. But. Close. Arm around him. Why? So nice. But, why?

He could hear Aziraphale chuckling softly in his ear, and decided to pull himself together. Right. Let go of umbrella. Put arm around waist, very casually. Cool. Right. No big deal.

Even through the overcoat, Aziraphale felt warm and solid and comforting, and Crowley forgot to do with his feet and tripped. His arm tightened around Aziraphale’s waist, and the arm around his back steadied him.

“Thankss, angel.” Now he was hissing. Just perfect. Cuddling under a white umbrella with cutesy ducks on it, tripping over himself, clinging to an angel, thanking him, and hissing. It was a good thing he had broken with Hell, because he couldn’t face the ridicule.

“You are very welcome, my dear."

A plump young woman with a rainbow undercut and a leather jacket gave them a quick smile as she passed, the kind of smile that Crowley had seen young queer folk give them before, that’s such a sweet old couple, look at them, hope I find someone like that one day. It always gave him a quick stab of pleasure, that they were acknowledged in some way, even if it was just a fantasy and Aziraphale was always oblivious to it himself.

“Have you ever thought about it?” Aziraphale was looking after the girl, thoughtfully.

“Thought about what?"

“What the humans assume.” Crowley stared. Aziraphale was still not looking at him, but the lips of his ears were pink.

He had to be sure. “What,” Crowley asked very carefully, “do they think?"

“That we’re lovers,” Aziraphale clarified and then, in case even that wasn’t clear enough, “that we’re romantically and sexually involved."

Crowley’s blood was pounding in his ears. “Have I ever thought about it?"

“Well, it’s a human pleasure, and one I’ve never experienced, although I’m sure you have. There doesn’t seem to be any reason not to try now, that’s all. Have you ever thought about it? I mean,” and no just his ears were pink now, “with me."

“Have… I… ever… thought… about it?” Crowley was having difficulty keeping his tongue in a human enough shape to talk. “In the last six thousand years, you mean? You… you… could you be any more bloody insulting?"

He pushed away and stormed off into the crowd, not bothering to look back. Maybe Aziraphale was standing looking forlorn and alone and confused and reflecting on what a heartless prat he was.

He hoped so.

Storm

He spent the next few days causing chaos as if he’d never been chucked off the payroll. He was a demon, after all, the original Serpent, and eventually Hell were going to realise what a precious resource they had and crawl back to him begging for forgiveness, and then he would—he didn’t know. Probably reject them. That wasn’t the point.

Storms, burst drains, network outages, public transport strikes, the latest episodes of reality tv shows being mysteriously wiped just as they were about to go to air, the entire cast of the Archers coming down with laryngitis, the entire South Kensington museum area developing the smell of sulphur and brimstone, which was conveniently similar to rotten eggs. He hadn’t worked so hard in decades. Centuries.

Crowley was prepared to ignore pleading or apologetic calls to his answering machine and voice mail, but there weren’t any. However, brides and grooms found that storms magically cleared above them on their wedding days, the city bankers had sudden changes of heart and made major donations to the poor while raising their employees' salaries, and despite the constantly rain and lightning, the daffodils and tulips had never bloomed so beautifully or resiliently in living memory.

Right. If that was the way it was to be, then, this was war. He… he was going to do something about those bloody ducks. He wasn’t sure what. Turn them pink and give them fangs, probably.

Downpour

He climbed in the Bentley, his precious Bentley, the only thing in the world that truly loved him and never let him down.

He screeched down to St James Park, pulled over, and pulled the break on just as he noticed the angel sitting quietly on the passenger seat.

“Isn’t that a frivolous use of a miracle?” he snarled. “And not very angelic, either, breaking into a car."

“No one is counting now, I think.” Aziraphale fidgeted, his beautiful fingers twisting around each other. “I didn’t trust you to answer your phones."

“I wouldn’t."

“Precisely."

Aziraphale glanced at him quickly, took in the frown, and dropped his gaze back to his twisting hands. “I didn’t mean to offend you."

“You did a bloody good job, anyway."

Aziraphale sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. Can we just forget it?” There were miserable tears on the edge of those golden lashes, and Crowley steeled his heart against them. “I can just find someone else, if I really want—"

“Who?"

Aziraphale blinked. “What do you mean?"

“Who do you have in mind, angel?"

“Well, no one in particular. I was just—"

“Six thousand years. Six thousand years, I’ve been in love with you, and too terrified to show you any signs of infernal lust in case I chased you away. I can just find someone else.” Crowley bashed his head against the steering wheel. “No one in particular. Oh, good, glad you had a convenient demon around for an easy first option, better than risking corrupting a human. Have I ever thought about it? Oh, angel, I hate you."

There was a long silence, and then suddenly Aziraphale laughed. It was his sweetest, lightest chuckle, and Crowley sat up and glared at him.

“So that’s it. I could feel you cared, but—in love? Really?"

“Don’t laugh at me. Yes, in love. Romantically and sexually, as you so clinically put it."

“I’m sorry. I really am."

“I know. It’s not your fault.” The anger suddenly drained out of him, and he just felt tired and hurting. “And I don’t hate you."

“Good. Because I love you."

“I know. I shouldn’t take it out on you. You can’t help being an angel. You just took me by surprise, that’s all."

“Crowley, my dearest. Listen. I’m in love with you."

He whipped his head around, snake-like, looking for a mistake, for the following “I am in love with all of God’s creations, even you, and you are my dearest friend,” but Aziraphale was blushing and trying very hard to look straight at him without looking away and how much courage did that take, for an angel that always glanced away from temptation, and that expression in his eyes, he had seen it before and it was for him and probably he should move or say something but wait, in love, he was in love and Crowley had just confessed too, hadn’t he, and Aziraphale had said...

Aziraphale sighed again, as if waiting for the noise in Crowley’s head to quieten down a bit was just too much for him, picked up one of his hands, and kissed it. Slowly, lingeringly. The back of his hand, each knuckle, one by one, fingertips, turning it over to kiss his palm and his wrist.

Crowley’s voice came back, hoarse and hissy, but there. “Romantically and ssexually."

“Yes, my dear. Or else I hardly would have proposed—"

Crowley grabbed his head and mashed their mouths together. It was awkward at first, all lips and teeth, but they pulled back a bit and lips parted more gently and tongues touched and it didn’t matter if it was awkward at all, it was everything, the mouth against his and the soft wide chest pressed against his narrow one and the arms around him.

“I love you."

“Yes, dear.” Aziraphale kissed him again.

“You love me."

“Yes, dear."

It was a good thing the Bentley didn’t have seatbelts or bucket seats, or the angel certainly would have had a seatbelt on and it would be hard to clamber half onto Aziraphale’s lap to kiss him again from a more comfortable angle.

“Really, beloved, we’re in public.” Beloved.

“The windows are all fogged up from the heater.” He trailed little kisses down a silky lovely neck, and Aziraphale made a noise.

“But the humans..."

The skies opened to a sudden downpour of rain. “Have better things to do than peer into parked cars like perverts. Oh, Aziraphale."

The angel’s hands were so warm, so soft and now cradling the side of his face. “Let’s go home."

“Which home?"

“Well.” Aziraphale kissed his nose. “You’re the one with the bed, dear boy."

“Right,” Crowley said happily, and Aziraphale’s hand was on his thigh, warm and possessive, all the way back to the flat. **** Comments, kudos and other support gratefully received. <3 Still working on my WIPS, but a little more slowly due to Ineffable Husbands Week! @IneffableHusbandsWeek

#ineffable husbands week #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands fanfic #good omens fanfic

[padfootagain]

-10°C By Midnight

Here we go with another writing for my winter event with Charlie Weasley! I hope you like it! Thank you for your request @cutie-bug !

The following prompts were asked :

41. "There's this party… I wondered… would you go with me?"

43. "Let's spend Christmas together, and New Year's Eve… actually… actually let's spend every single evening together for the rest of our lives."

47. "I need body warmth. And you're just like a heater on two legs."

Gif not mine

Word Count : 2030

"This whole thing is getting completely out of hand!"

"I am not the one who volunteered to keep an eye on that dragon!"

"I beg your pardon? You were not complaining at first!"

"Yes, but I never thought that we would have to climb a mountain in the middle of winter and freeze to death!"

"What's going on with you anyway? Where is the ever-happy Charlie Weasley, huh? The one who thinks it's fun to get half of his hair roasted by a dragon?"

"That haircut it gave me was bloody hilarious…"

"You are utterly crazy."

"Crazy? Maybe. But suicidal? No. And I don't like getting cold. Why do you think I love dragons so much?"

"Well, this one seems to be willing to take some fresh air."

Charlie didn't answer, but merely pestered under his breath as he tripped on a root of a tiny and quite miserable-looking bush. At this altitude, and at this time of the year though, it wasn't so surprising to find the vegetation dying. You tightened your hold on your warm coat, fighting against the snowflakes that hit your face and made it so hard to see, as they got caught in your eyelashes. Despite his anger and his loud voice, the roaring wind almost covered Charlie's words. You took a look on your left, where you should have seen the proud peak of the neighbouring mountain standing tall, but for now, you could see nothing but clouds of light grey covering the whole world. A shiver shook your whole frame, and your teeth chattered for a moment, until you clenched your jaw tightly enough to stop any movement. You saw Charlie slipping on snow again, but this time, he fell head first in the snow.

"Are you okay?" you asked with concern in your voice.

"Yeah… yeah," he replied with an annoyed tone.

"This is getting ridiculous," you shook your head. "We should go back."

You had to shout for your voice to be heard through what had turned into a blizzard, the wind cutting your cheeks as sharply as a knife.

But Charlie checked the watch at his wrist, and it was his time to shake his head.

"No hope left. We can't go back, we won't have reached any shelter before night would fall. Which, in this weather, means serious trouble."

"What should we do then?"

"Find shelter."

"How do we do that?"

"We trust our luck."

"That doesn't sound like much of a plan!"

"You have a better idea? Cause then, I'll take it!"

"I don't know…"

"We should try to find shelter. We already know that we didn't come across anything that could remotely be used as that when we climbed up here. Our only chance is to keep going."

You heaved a sigh. You wished you could find something else to do to get out of this dangerous situation, but your mind was desperately blank.

"I have a bad feeling about this," you mumbled under your breath.

"Considering that it's your fault if we're here, you'd better shut it."

"Hey! Weasley! Language!"

"Y/L/N! Since when are you so offended!?" he laughed at your face, mimicking your tone in a ridiculous way.

He had this smug little smirk on his face again. The one he always had when he joked. The one that never failed to make your heart leap in your chest. And despite the cold weather, and your certainty that you had been turned into an ice-cube by now, you could feel your heart jump in your chest nonetheless. Really, this man had too much effect on you…

But did you have a choice? Hell no. If you had you would have never developed such feelings for the red-haired man who walked before you in the snow. Not when you knew that he liked another woman…

Stephany. The beautiful and woman-like Stephany. You were not exactly sexy, dressed 99% of your time either in pyjamas or large clothes that you needed to work with magical creatures. Hard to look at your best then, you guessed. Although, you were not sure that some make-up and fit clothes would make any difference in that matter…

Stephany was the archetype of attractive. You were the archetype of… common.

Lost in your own thought – and misery of unrequited love – you tripped on a stone hidden by the thick layer of snow, and fell, your hands sinking in the soft ice past your wrists. You didn't have any time to get up again, as Charlie was bending down to help you, worry painted all over his face.

"Are you okay?"

Your jaw was shaken by the cold, and you needed a moment to be able to answer as your teeth went through another one of their chattering crises.

"I'm… fine," you stuttered, shivering more than ever.

But his usually cool looks were replaced by a frown of worry now. He took your hands in his, and despite your gloves and his, he knew that they were frozen.

"We need to find shelter, you're so cold, Y/N…"

"I had noticed," you snorted.

"Come on, stay close to me."

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and helped you up the slope of the mountain again. And the way your heart raced because of how close he held you made your brain freeze too, unable to make any thought anymore and to ask why Charlie was suddenly being so over-protective. Instead, you merely followed him through the storm.

It took the two of you thirty more minutes to reach a little cavern that was wide enough to be used as shelter.

"Here, sit down," he commanded in a soft but firm voice.

"Charlie… I'm so cold," you complained, your voice growing weak.

"I know, it's okay. We're out of the storm now."

He went outside, and your eyes grew round as you watched him walk away.

"Charlie?! Charlie!"

But he ignored you, and was not back before several minutes, with a few bits of wood that he gathered at the centre of the little cave. He was shivering too by now, his red lock drenched with melted snow falling before his eyes.

He took out his wand, and quickly lit up a fire, before summoning some warm wind that he blew on your face, warming you up instantly.

"Thank you," you smiled.

He dried his hair, before scooting next to you.

"Are you okay?" he asked with concern.

"I'll survive."

"Not so sure about that…"

"I don't like it when you're the pessimist one. Really. I don't like it at all… It doesn't suit you."

"Well… looks like we're switching roles for once."

"Do you really think that we could die here?"

"No," he reassured you. "Maybe lose a toe or two though…"

"Charlie!"

"I'm just kidding."

You fell silent, and the two of you remained there, quiet in the cavern while the blizzard roared outside. Night slowly fell upon the world, and you and Charlie shared the sandwiches you never failed to carry with you whenever you went in the wild. Clearly, you were right to have caught that habit.

You were starting to feel sleepy when you checked the time on your wristwatch. It was almost midnight.

"How cold do you think it is?" you asked Charlie out of the blue.

He shrugged, blowing in his gloves to warm up his numb face.

"Around… -10…"

"What? Celsius?'

"Yup…"

"Damn, that's cold…"

"I know. But we'll be fine."

"See, the optimistic role suits you so much better than me!"

He chuckled.

"And well… better bring you back with all your toes, or Stephany might want to kill me," you joked.

But instead of laughing, or worse, blushing, Charlie merely looked at you with a puzzled expression.

"What does Stephany have anything to do with me?" he asked, clearly confused.

"Well… I don't know… rumours…"

But you stopped mid-sentence, and he had to insist for you to go on.

"I'm listening, Y/N."

"Rumours speak of you two… you know…"

"No, I don't know."

"Apparently, she likes you. And you like her."

He looked at you with round eyes and an aghast face for a moment, before exploding with laughter.

"Stephany?! You think I like Stephany?!"

He kept on laughing loudly, loudly enough for his laughter to cover all sounds of the storm, and he soon had to wipe the tears out of his eyes.

But you weren't really paying attention to his very happy and contagious laugh. Instead, you were trying to process the meaning of his words…

Did that mean that he… didn't… like Stephany?

"So you… don't like her?" you asked shyly.

"Of course not! I mean… she's… beautiful, but… hell, is she boring!"

"Really? You think she's boring?"

"Of course! I mean… looks like she can only talk about gossips, and make-up and clothes and… I don't like that kind of women at all. I like… I like women with humour, and who aren't afraid to say what they think and are generous and hilarious and brave and… much more like…"

His eyes rose from the dancing flames to meet yours, and it seemed that he had captured your very soul.

"Someone more like you, actually."

Your jaw dropped and you must have looked rather funny, because despite his reddening cheeks, Charlie was smiling. You couldn't find a way to care about your dumbstruck look though. You were too shocked to think about anything at all.

"What… what do you mean?" you asked in a shaking breath.

"I mean…"

He bit down on his lower lip in hesitation, but spoke again, eventually.

"You know… There's this party… With my family, for Christmas, and I was wondering… I mean… I wondered… would you go with me?"

"You want me to go with you to see your family?" you repeated his words, too shocked to believe in them.

"Yeah… is that too much?" he asked, narrowing his eyes in an attempt to determine if you were mad at him or not.

But you were not mad at all, you were simply too shocked… perhaps you had hit your head at one point, or the cold had frozen all your braincells… you didn't know the scientific explanation for your behaviour, but what you knew was that you couldn't find a way to speak for a long moment.

"It's okay if you don't want to," he reassured you. "I mean… I… would really like you to come, but if you don't feel like it, it's alright. We'll still be friends then, as you… you don't seem to feel the same as I do."

"Feel? Same? You?"

Here it was… you had reached the next stage of insanity and were now unable to formulate proper sentences, wonderful…

"I like you," he confessed. "A lot. I don't like Stephany at all."

"But…"

He raised an eyebrow.

"But what?"

"I'm not like Stephany at all…"

"Which is precisely why I like you and not her."

You exchanged a warm smile. He reached for your hand, and you let him wrap his fingers around yours.

"Y/N, let's… please come to this party with me," he asked in a shaking breath, his eyes too intense for you to have even just a chance to look away. "Let's spend Christmas together, and New Year's Eve… actually… actually let's spend every single evening together for the rest of our lives."

You grinned, nodding your head as your throat was too tight with emotions to form any word.

"What do you say?"

You shivered because of the cold again, and you hesitated to answer with an earnest and excited 'yes!'. But you couldn't let him get away with the last clever word, could you?

"I think… I think I need body warmth. And you're just like a heater on two legs."

He let out a bright wave of laughter, before he opened his arms for you to find refuge in his warm embrace.

"So… if we survive to this cold night… should I take it as a yes?" he asked in a whisper in your ear, making you grin.

"Yes, Charlie. You should."

************************

Taglist : @ponycake27 @mxrihollxnd @horsesreign @xinyourdreamsx @jbluevelvet @notkeppeki @daynight-deme-stuff @fudgeflyss @stuckupstucky @snek-shit

#charlie weasley #charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasley imagine #charlie weasley fanfic #event #winter event #prompts #writing prompt #writing #imagine #fanfic

[rudemaidenswrite]

Cash Prize

Part 2 bitches!  

Michael takes you up on that offer to see you again. 

By: @pusantheamazonian

Part 1

After you got home you threw everything from the basket into the sink and filled it with water. The ink faded from the papers allowing you to shred them without worry. You broke the cellphones in half for extra measure and dropped them in different trash cans on your way to work the next day.

It's been two weeks since that unforgettable night. Thankfully you haven't seen him cause frankly you don't know what you would do this time. Most of that night has become a blur to you but he is the one thing that is clear.

Finally getting tired of staring at the ceiling. You roll out of bed and force yourself to shower. Since you were too tired to do so last night. Stumbling to the bathroom, clean pajamas in hand you don't notice the person in the living room.

Cranking the hot water up you let the bathroom fill with fog. You just might spend the day here under the hot water. Focused on the way the hot water feels you don't hear the door open.

Rinsing off and turning the water off you automatically pull back the curtain. Surprised you’re face to face with an intruder. He's just standing there facing you. His white mask maybe blankless but you feel his eyes all over you. Realizing you're still naked and he just got a good look, you’re instantly angry.

Quickly grabbing the curtain to cover yourself. “What the fuck Michael?! You just can't be surprising me in the bathroom.” Yelling at him you hold the curtain tighter.

While you glare he seems to get bored. He wanders off leaving the door open. Stunned you can't believe you just yelled at the Shape of Haddonfield and he left you alone. Shutting the door, you speed through drying off and putting clean pajamas on. Steeling your nerves you brave the deep and walk out to see if he's still here. You never expected to see him again much less in your apartment.

You find him standing by your stack of movies in the living room. Inching closer you see what he's holding, some Scooby Doo movies. “You wanna watch Scooby Doo with me?” Instantly he's holding out one of the movies. “Oh! Scooby Doo on Zombie Island is my favorite.”

Turning the TV on he wanders off again, deciding to sit in the middle of the couch. Leaving you to sit next to him or on the floor. Seeing his chosen spot you’re slightly annoyed but not surprised.

Fuck the floor! It's cold and hard. If thinks he take the whole couch he’s got another thing coming.

Letting the movie roll through the previews you grab some breakfast, well snacks for the two of you. There's not much, you have yet to go grocery shopping. You might as well get comfy cause he has clearly already made himself at home for the day. Making a bowl of popcorn, stuffing two sodas and two pop tarts in your arms. You’re prepared to face the scary man child. 

“Since I don't know when you exactly eat. Here's a soda, off brand strawberry pop tart and a bowl of popcorn to share.” You place his stuff on the coffee table in front of him. Sitting on his right you place yours between you and the couch. “The window causes a draft.” Placing the couch blanket over your laps. Balancing the bowl of popcorn on top. With the movie starting you easily ignore his weird staring.

Being squished next to him on the couch is nice since he's a body heater. But after the first few times leaving the couch you'd turn around to find him right behind you. Scaring the shit out of you every time. Thus you've began announcing where you're going to avoid a heart attack. He doesn’t follow but watches you like a hawk so it’s a win-win. The company feels nice and watching movies with him makes you forget that you’re all alone and he's a serial killer.

It becomes a pattern every week on your day off. Michael creepily standing outside the shower and you being naïve enough to believe that he listened to your rant about privacy. To find him still standing there, always getting a good look at your body before you pull the curtain back to cover yourself. Watching whatever movie he wants while avoiding actual meals and just snacking. Always disappearing in the middle of the night, leaving money on the coffee table. This goes on for months without fail.

But the day he isn't standing outside the shower worries you. Searching the apartment he's still nowhere to be found. After an hour of waiting you go looking for him. It's not because you're worried….just that it's unlike him.

First stop is his house. Parking in the alley you’re able to sneak in through the back door. You can tell that he does have some pride in being somewhat clean. The body is no longer hanging on the wall or he knows to get rid of evidence.

“Michael?.... Anyone home?” You don't know why your whispering but you are. Searching the rooms as you go there's no sign of him. Heading upstairs something falls, hoping it's him you follow the sound. Leading you to the room you hid in for the contest. “Michael?” Cautiously you open the door slowly. But you're faced with something you never thought possible.

“Oh my God! What the hell happened?” Rushing to him you climb on the bed. There's blood leaking from his side and the coveralls have a rip. Taking off your sweatshirt, you unzip his coveralls and place it against the wound. The blood seems to be clotting now meaning he's been like this for a while. “Damn it Michael. Immortal demon or not you're not supposed to bleed to death. What happened?” Your worry clearly apparent now evokes a reaction. He reaches into a pocket pulling out a couple twenties, stuffing the money in your boob pocket. It dawns on you that the reason he's injured is because whoever he was killing to get you money fought back. “... You don't have to bring me money.” 

Practically dying inside from his reason you hook his arms around you and pull him to a standing position. “Come on I can fix you at my place.” He leans most of his weight is on you. Stumbling through the house and out back. You didn't calculate on how heavy he really is.  Finally reach your car and digging around in your pocket. You're able to open the door before he squishes you.

Sliding him into the front seat you scrounge around in the back for a few things. You need to cover his face with something other than that mask. Finding what you need you hurry back and lean in close. Your hands are barely on the mask when he stops you.

“Michael you gotta trust me. If anyone sees you with your mask on they're going to call the police. I promise you can put the mask back on the moment we're in my apartment.” Attempting to reason with him you hope he understands.

Releasing your wrists with an annoyed huff he pulls the mask off. Immediately you stick sunglasses, an old surgical mask from when you were sick and baseball hat on him. Trying to cover up as much of his face as possible. But that doesn't stop you from seeing the blue eyes, brown hair and the blank baby face. 

Trying not to drive like a maniac back to your apartment, you've never been so nervous. Shoving his mask into your purse, you help him out of the car. Having him lean onto you with his bad side helps hide the blood. Thank goodness there's nobody roaming about as you two struggle upstairs to your apartment.

Passing the threshold you abandoned him to lock the door. He snatches his mask back and collapses on the couch. Grabbing the first aid kit from the closest and some towels, you have no idea how he's going to react. Unzipping the coveralls, you toss your bloody sweatshirt on the coffee table. Pulling his shirt up you're able to get a good look at it now. Relieved it's not too bad, just a bunch of shallow wounds and a long cut. Looks like someone tried to cut him with a pizza cutter.

“They're not bad, shallow so you won't need stitches. Since the bleeding stopped I'm going to clean them and put bandages on. Okay?” You look at him for any type of sign that says he was listening. “Earth to Michael did you hear what I said? I'm going to clean these wounds. It might hurt and I don't want you going on a stabbing spree because of the pain.” The slow sounds of his breathing let you know he's still alive. But you wait for him to acknowledge you. Then you see it, just the slightest tilt of his head and his eyes staring right at you. “Good.”

While you got him focused on you and not what you're doing. You move as fast as possible. Being too concerned about his well being you forget about your queasiness from the amount of blood everywhere. Finishing up he tries to stand.

“Woah woah where do you think you're going? If you think you're leaving you got another thing coming. I did not just patch you up so you could run off in the middle of the day. Where anyone could see you or try to kill you. You're going to stay here and rest!” Glaring at him both of you are stunned by your outburst. It works cause the whole day he doesn't move an inch. Leaving you to speculate if he's sleeping or holding back his rage. Either way you know he's alive and that's what matters. 

Michael wakes up and automatically sits up. He would rather be sleeping but his senses jolted him awake, he's in dangerous territory. Ready to bolt he stops, seeing you lying against the couch sleeping with an arm wrapped around his leg. You have become even more curious to him. Normally people who come to look for him want to kill him. All would have tried if they had found him in the state he was but not you. You even yelled at him to get your point across. The changing light of the sky indicates he's been here all night. Meaning you been here all night. Instinctively like before he pats your hair. 

“Michael?” The feeling of movement around you woke you up. Staring at him in a haze you wonder how long he's been awake. “How long have you been awake?” The retraction of his hand indicates either awhile or just now. 

“Well how about you take a shower so I can wash your clothes and I will make breakfast?” Stretching your butt is numb from the floor. Seeing him not moving you grab his hand and tug on it. Surprisingly you're able to pull him up easily. Pulling him inside the bathroom you pull out extra towels. “You jump in the shower. I'm going to find some clothes for you.” 

Rummaging through your closet this is proving harder than you thought. You don't have anything labeled Sasquatch. The closest thing is a night shirt and basketball shorts. Hopefully he cooperates with this or he's gonna be naked for a while. Opening the bathroom door, he still standing where you left him. “Why aren't you in? Are you scared I'm going to see you naked?” Sighing you place the clothes by the sink. There's a slight head tilt. Maybe that's what it is but that's a silly reason. “Dude really? After all the times- Give me your clothes and get in the shower.” Ordering him you point at the shower and he shows no response. You get the feeling that this time his stare means no. Completely annoyed now, this bulky wall doesn't want you to see him naked but he's seen you naked dozens of times. “Fine.” 

Turning around you face the wall and wait. Sure enough you hear the zipper followed a pair of boots tossed beside you and a pile of clothes hitting you in the back. “Hey!” Turning around he's already slipped into the shower. Grumbling you pick up the clothes. “And when I mean take a shower I mean take off the mask. You better wash your face and hair.” Great now you're sounding like a mom. You don't know if he's purposely trying to get a reaction out of you or just this stubborn. Huffing you toss the clothes in the washer. Starting your lovely portable washing machine, the life saver of all washing machines. You add some bleach to the laundry soap. There's no telling what germs are on these clothes. 

Mosing through the kitchen you don't know what to feed him. He probably could eat you out of house and home if he were to eat properly and none of that eating only the snacks you give him when he visits. Pancakes are the solution. You can make a fuck ton of them without breaking the bank. “What are you staring at?” Feeling his presence you don't even look at him. You continue mixing the batter. “I'm making pancakes.” 

Until he's yanked a handful of hair, pulling you away from the stove. “What the hell?” Staring at him, your clothes look like they're going to rip at any moment. He needs dinosaur size not sasquatch size. He looks at you then the door. It's awkward but you see that he's waiting for your reply. After noticing that it's the door he's staring at you know what he's asking. “I traded shifts. I couldn't just leave you alone, not until I knew you were fine.” 

 Satisfied with your answer his hand falls back to his side. At this distance you can make out his blue eyes peeking through the mask which are boring into you. He's questioning your motives and it becomes a staring contest. You break first, he's a complete wall. “You're my friend of course I fucking care what happens to you.” Trying to intimidate him, you're failing horribly. It doesn't help that he's 6’8” and you barely reach his shoulders. 

Friend? He's never had a friend before. Well a true friend, the staff at the sanitarium only played nice because they were afraid. He doesn't know what it is but you make him want to go on instinct. Instinct that was buried long ago, an instinct to pet your hair and soothe you. He reaches for you again, you jump a little. But now he's petting your hair. You're beginning to wonder if it's just a habit he picked up or thinks it's soft. Or just maybe it's his way of saying sorry? 

“I'm fine…. This extravaganza of you almost bleeding to death has my nerves fried.” Giving him a smile that's the first time you've lied to him. “Go sit it won't take long for the pancakes to cook.” 

 Watching him walk away, you're in too deep. That was only half the reason why you're so grumpy today. Like an idiot you gone and developed feelings for this shell of a man that's why you helped him. You know he's never going to return those feelings. The only reason you're alive is because he has found you to be a good resource to him. A faithful pet.

#reader insert #rudemaidenswrite #fanfiction #slasher fanfiction #slasher imagines #slasher #michael myers x reader #michael myers #halloween #hangout #cash prize #stolen money #the shape #mask removal #injuries #manchild

[hiswhiteknight]

Cold Never Bother Me Anyway

This was written for 2K Marvel Challenge Prompt – Are you trying to suggest we take our clothes off?  #tori2k Big congratulations for all the followers @writingcroissant. I hope you all enjoy it!!! I tried to make it gender neutral, but if it's flawed, I'm completely open for suggestions for the future!

Summary: Bucky and reader gets put on a mission in the middle of some winter terrain. They must try to survive the cold together.

Pairing: Reader x Bucky Barnes

Warning: Minor cursing, angst, mentions of lack of clothing, smut if you squint

Word Count: 1800

“Whose bloody idea was it to send me to the tundra,” you said running between boulders of ice caps and snow, “And what kind of lunatics build a headquarters here anyway?”

Bucky was trailing behind you, making sure you wouldn’t be followed, “This is not the time to be dramatic – we are not in the tundra,” he followed you left, finally reach a far-off mountain range, hoping to find shelter before your transport can pick up your signal.

You and Bucky were put on a mission to locate and destroy an enemy’s compound. It was just poor luck that it was in the frigid northern hemisphere. A few things went wrong during the mission, like accidentally setting off the alarm, “I’m taking a two-week vacation in Hawaii after this. That’s how long it’ll take for me to dethaw my-.”

“It is your fault we’re in this mess,” you cut a sharp right, finding a tight valley to search through. There had to be a cave or something to find, “If only we would have subdued the dogs, we’d be fine - but NO you thought you could befriend them.”

Looking back at him, “Animals are innocent Barnes,” you yell, “It’s not their fault, their owners are awful monsters.”

“You can save your animal lecture for me later, let’s just find a place to lay low and preferably warm,” he yelled at you. You rolled your eyes at him and continued to run away, “Watch,” you heard him yell, “Don’t move.”

The sound of cracks grabbed your attention, Buck remained still. You looked down and you could now see the large crack in the ice. You were standing on a frozen over river. Building a large compound here on land like this would cause some fracturing and vulnerability in the land, “Shit.”

There was nothing you could do; the ice was going to take you under. Before you could make a move, Bucky leaped where you stood, took his strong arm and tossed you to sturdy ground. Unfortunately Bucky took your place under the water, “Bucky,” you scream out using your hands to shovel under the snow.

You scurried towards the hole, which was starting to freeze over. You worked quickly, roping your back pack around a rock and smashing your leg into the ice, “Grab it, damn it,” you yelled.

Suddenly something strong gripped my ankle. You pulled yourself along the ice, using your backpack to pull Bucky up. His metal arm gripped the ice like picks, but being cautious enough to not cause another cave in.

When he was completely emerged from the water. He breathed heavily on his back with his eyes closed, “You’re an idiot Barnes.” Even for a super soldier, he had to be cold. He didn’t say anything. You were cold too, but he was slowly turning to ice. You got up and pulled him up with you, “Come on, we’ve got to find you some shelter.”

Not too far along the way, you found a cave. You pulled out some of the gadgets packed into your Mary Poppins magic bag. You popped up a tent and a heater like object and sat Bucky inside, “You’re welcome,” Bucky mumbled.

“Right back at you Sparky,” you growled.

“You’re stronger than I thought,” he shivered back.

“Aren’t you like a super soldier,” you question, you shiver now as well, “Doesn’t that mean, ‘cold never bother me anyway’ kind of thing.”

He chuckled, shaking his head, “I’m definitely not Elsa, Y/L/N. Subzero freezing temperatures do, in fact, bother me – quite a lot. But right now, I’m more worried about you. Your legs don’t have much time before frostbite begins.”

You tried to push past the thought of Bucky knowing anything about Disney, “Barnes, let’s remember I’m an agent too. I’m thinking up a plan as we speak,” he nodded sarcastically, using his hands to motion towards you, “Look, I read in a book once-.”

“Shocking,” he mumbled.

You pointed your shivering hand at him, “I’d like you to note that I, in fact, detest you.”

“Noted,” he said, rubbing his hands together.

“Look, we can’t keep these ice cubes called clothing on and not get hypothermia, which is setting in. This rinky-dink heater isn’t going to help us. Our body has a natural temperature, it will do whatever it takes to keep it. And these clothes aren’t helping.”

He blinked at you a few times, raising his hand, “I’m sorry – are you? Are you trying to suggest we take our clothes off?”

“If we both want to live, more specifically me, yes – yes that is what I am suggesting.” You felt frustrated and cold in this situation. I mean, yeah, you thought Barnes was attractive. You never acted upon it, well you acted like a school child with a crush – teasing and toying with him, “It’s why I noted my distaste for you.”

He looked at you before undoing his pants button, “You keep tell yourself that cupcake.”

“I’m too cold to argue with you,” you pulled your shirt over your head. Slowly, but surely you unclothed, shivering uncontrollable, but feeling relief from the removal of your frozen clothes.

You continued to shiver, impatiently waiting to intercept your ride home and away from this tundra, “Come here,” he said.

Looking at him in disbelief, “Excuse me.”

“You know the whole-body heat thing, it was your idea,” he opened his arms, “Come on in.” You hesitated for a second, “I note that you detest me and this situation, but Steve would be royally ticked if I let you die an ice cube. We don’t know how long we’ll be here for.”

Taking a deep breath, you push your undies covered body between his arms and legs. He pulled his arms around you, you instantly felt his warmth. A sign escaped your lips, “How are you this warm? You fell into deathly cold water.”

“The whole super soldier thing has some perks.” You leaned into his chest, finally feeling some comfort, “I think this is your way to get me half naked.”

“Qu-est que c’est, what,” you turned to face him, looking bewildered.

You missed the warmth of his chest on your back, so you faced forward again. He placed his chin on your shoulder, near the crevice of your neck, “I think you like me.”

“Thou thinkith much of thy self,” you whisper harshly.

He chuckled, and you noticed the feel of his beard on your skin – you liked it. It took you everything not to smile, thankfully the cold still bothered you, “Calm yourself Shakespeare, nothing is wrong with a crush. It’s flattering.”

“God, my distaste for you has truly no bounds.”

You could tell he was still smiling into your neck, “Some people think there is a fine line between hate and love.”

“And some people are stupid,” you shout out.

“That is the sound of passion and denial,” he continued to push, while pulling you closer to his body.

He finally got under your skin, you pushed away and accepted the cold, but Barnes didn’t accept that. He grabbed your wrist and spun you to be tight against his chest, facing him, “You are impossible.”

“Or,” he said at a whisper, “I also have a crush on you and I’m determined to take advantage of this moment.”

You looked up, you were too cold to play games or fight anymore. And you weren’t about to let him make the first move, “You’re literally so annoying,” and you pulled him into a deep kiss. He wrapped his arms tighter around his body, “For the record, I’m only doing this to keep as warm as possible,” you said against his lips.

He laughed again, giving you the biggest smile, “Whatever you have to say to convince yourself sunshine.”

You continued to smile, “Shut up.”

Your lips met his again, you loved the way he felt on your skin and lips, “I think I’m going to vomit,” you head shot up. Sam’s voice came outside the tent. He unzipped the tent, “Woah, get some clothes on, ya nasties.”

Captain and Natasha’s faces could be seen behind him, “For warmth,” you screamed awkwardly, “We fell in some water.”

Bucky’s arms shot up in annoyance, “Wanda, can you get us some suits from the jet,” Captain said into his speaker, “Doing alright there, bud,” he asked more to Bucky, “Feeling comfortable?”

“Yeah, Steve – our clothes are frozen, we’re sitting in subzero temperatures; we’re peachy,” he mumbled back.

Wanda ran into the cave looking at the two of you in the tent, “Finally,” she sighed, tossing you both the jumpsuits. You and Bucky quickly separated and dressed.

“Now that the mission is over, and we’ve got these two love birds, can we blow this Popsicle stand,” Sam shivered himself, still holding a smirk, “I’m freezing.”

“Let’s go home,” Steve said, gripping your shoulder before watching you scurry away from this situation. He looked to Bucky, “Good job,” he smiled.

Bucky shrugged, “It was a simple mission,” he pushed it off, making it onto the jet.

Steve chuckled under his breathe, “No, I know you could handle that. I meant, good job getting Y/N,” he gestured to you, “Took you long enough to make a move.”

“Shut up,” he mumbled looking down before finding his seat near you.

“K-I-S-S-I-N-G,” Sam sang waltzing past the both of you.

You clenched you fists, trying not to make eye contact with Bucky. You had to get your nerve back, as well as the feeling to your limbs. When you got back to the compound, everyone got of the jet quickly, mumbling about a debrief in the morning. You were nearly off the jet when Bucky grabbed your arm, “Can I take you to dinner tomorrow night?”

You were starting to feel yourself again. And you couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky or his lips on the ride back home, “Sure,” you smiled at him. He nodded at the group, smiling back at you, before walking back down the ramp, “Bucky,” he stopped to look back at you. You started to talk down towards him, “I was thinking, before the meeting tomorrow we should debrief ourselves.” He looked at you confused, “Want to help me debrief in my room,” you tapped him on his cheek, before walking all the way down the ramp, “What do you say super soldier,” you grinned.

He grinned back, “I’m glad to see your distaste for me hasn’t stopped you from your professionalism.”

“Shut up or I might just debrief myself,” you started to walk backwards in direction of your room.

“Not necessary,” he stalked after you, “Though for authenticity of the report, I think we should mimic our conditions without the bitter cold.”

Shaking your head, you rolled your eyes, “Are you trying to suggest we take our clothes off?”

He caught up to you, pulling you against him, “Only for authenticity,” he grins at you some more.

“I like where you mind is going,” you continue.

He lifts you up in his arms, “You have no idea, Y/N. But I plan on showing you.”

“Get a room,” Sam yells from the hallway.

“Plan on it,” you yell back. Bucky laughs and starts carrying you to his room.

#tori2k #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #writing challenge #hiswhiteknight #marvel fanfiction #fanfiction #anst #gender neutral reader

[hookahazz]

Chronicles of a Black Girl Vol 2: It’s New York Baby |Harry Styles|

Warnings: Cursing, fluff (this was ji cute)

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: Here’s part two, I finally finished. It’s so long. I took a different approach this time, this one was just like a story I had in my head and I wanted the reader to be black. I hope you guys enjoy it. I finished editing this at 2 in the morning so please, please, please give me feedback tell me how you feel about it (love it, hate it, like it, dislike it) if you see any spelling errors let me know. Also, I tried to write Harrys dialogue the way he actually talks IRL so for my advanced writers who do that tell me if I did it right, please. This volume will probably have little blurbs in the future. 

ASK BOX 

Harry’s lost, very fucking lost. He’s stuck somewhere in the middle of New York of all places, and of course, he hasn’t a clue as to where he is nor does he know how to get anywhere. It was spur of the moment and Harry nearly regrets saying yes to Niall crazy proposition. He had called him hours before their plane departed, asking if he wanted to go to New York and Harry really couldn't decline (he couldn’t find it in his heart to, not with Niall on the other end of the line crying because he wasn’t able to return the tickets nor was he able to get a refund on the hotel he booked for the romantic getaway he planned for his girlfriend who of course broke up with him over text just before).

“Bloody fuck,” he yelled on the corner of an unknown street.

Harry was alone now because his idiotic best mate hadn’t been paying attention and hopped on a train without him.

“I swore you were right behind me, mate!” Niall had professed over the phone.

“I wasn’t Niall! You were ways in front of me, damn it!”

“Okay, okay. Let’s just calm down alright? All you need to do is get on a train headed s-”

Of course, only Harrys phone would die while he’s stuck in the middle of nowhere in a city he’s never been in while he’s without a charger.

“No, no, no! Fucking hell!” he screamed, pulling at his curls. He plopped himself on a bench and hung his head on the verge of tears. Harry was not a cryer, but with the stress of not knowing where he was and this anger he had begun storing toward Niall and his bitchy ex-girlfriend, crying seemed like the only logical thing to do.

“Yo, what’s the matter whichu, kid? Why you spazzin’?“

Without even looking up, Harry let it all out without a moment's hesitation, in dire need of a source to vent to not caring who or what it was.

“Well for one, M’lost for christ sake. Don’t have a bloody fucking clue as to where I am! My phones dead, my best mate jumped on a train without me, M’fucking hungry and it’s s’bloody fucking cold out here! Why’s it s’fucking cold?!” he concluded, out of breath from his confession.

“You’s a funny one,” the girl, he had concluded immediately, giggled causing Harry to look up.

“I’m (Y/N), what’s your name curly Q?”

“M’Harry,” he grinned, now admiring just how beautiful she was.

(Y/N) had a dark, rich, creamy complexion that Harry couldn’t stop gawking at; it reminded him of expensive chocolate he had once tasted while visiting Ecuador (a high school trip he submitted his payment for at the minute because his mom had been pestering him about how he never does anything fun and that he’d regret it later). She had long, dark brown and blonde braids that fell past her back and stopped at her bum that Harry yearned to play  She also had the prettiest eyes Harry had ever seen, they were a chocolate brown that seemed to be glowing due to the streetlights they had sat under. And to Harry, even though she had only spoken only a couple of sentences to him and laughed at his series of unfortunate events, he thought her voice was like velvet (she had a thick New York accent he thought was just the cutest). He could listen to her talk all day and he’d never complain. Harry loved everything about this girl and he knew nothing of her. He just thought she was really, really, really fucking beautiful.

“Odd name for an odd kid but still cute,” she smiled.

“Hey... M’not a kid. M’a grown man,” he whined only making (Y/N) laugh.

“Yeah sure,” she waved him off with yet another smile (Harry had come to really adore it by now) before zipping her jacket up and putting her hood over her head.

“It’s brick out here,” she shivered.

“Brick? What are you going on about, love?” he questioned, tilting his head like a curious cat (Harry wasn’t one for using slang).

“Just means cold babe, na mean?”  

His heart warmed at the use of “babe”. He knew deep down she didn’t mean anything by it but god, he loved to hear the word roll off her tongue (it was rather pleasing to him).

“N-na mean? I don't f-”

“It’s finna rain, sweets,” she hummed looking up at the sky.

Harry groaned in frustration and annoyance (not at (Y/N) of course), mumbling some curse words under his breath and tugging at his hair trying to figure out what the hell he was going to do.

“Erm, are there any shelters, perhaps, nearby I can go to? J-just until I can figure out what to do?” He questioned nervously,

God, he was so embarrassed. Harry was sure, absolutely sure, that (Y/N) had thought he was the biggest loser in the world right now. If his face wasn’t so red and bitten by the cold, she could actually see how embarrassed he was.

Unfortunately for Harry, there were none within walking distance. By now, all of the local shops were closed and everyone was pretty much inside, sleeping by now, resting ready for whatever tomorrow holds. Now (Y/N) wasn’t heartless, she wasn’t just about to leave the curly haired boy out in the cold to freeze. In fact, she was probably one of the kindest girls New York had to offer but that doesn’t mean she couldn't “fuck a bitch up”, she would proclaim, if need be. She did feel bad for the cute boy though. He didn’t seem suspicious or dangerous in fact quite the opposite. She thought he looked rather cute, his nose and ears red from the cold, his curly hair poking from his bandana he had wrapped around his head. He resembled a real teddy bear in her eyes.

“You can stay at mines for tonight,” she blurted without a second thought.

Silence fell between them making her almost regret her offer.

“Only if you want, duh. Of course, you don’t have to Its just real cold out here and I just don’t feel comfortable leaving you out here alone all night, it’s mad dangerous at night.”

“Y-You sure, love? Really don’t want to impose. S’bad enough you're wasting your time sitting out in the cold with me,” he smiled, warming her heart.

“Oh, you’re buggin’ kid. It’s really no problem at all. Can’t have you freezing your balls off in the cold now can we, Harry?” She smirked. She quite liked the way his name rolled off her tongue. She liked his name too. (Y/N)’s never ever met a ‘Harry’ before.  

↫ ↬

“It’s kinda small but I’ll make it comfortable for you,” she mumbled, sticking and twisting the key into the lock, opening the door to her apartment.

Harry really adored (Y/N), he really did think she was quite lovely. He was so grateful for her; he’s never met someone so kind and trusting.

“Damn it. It’s brick in here too?! Fuck is going on with the heat?” she exclaimed rushing to the heater as soon as she managed to get the door open.

Harry just stood there, awkwardly at that, by the door, really unsure of what do. He didn’t want to be rude and just sit so formally. He just twirled a curl around his finger until she came back. He was extremely nervous and the last thing he wanted to do was seem like a weirdo or make her uncomfortable in any way. Harry thought he’d actually die from embarrassment if he did anything stupid in front of (Y/N).

“Hey, sit down get comfortable, relax, Harry. I’ll get you some warm clothes and I’ll wash your old ones,” she yelled from down the hall.

Harry sat down on her rather comfortable couch, he was almost excited to sleep on her couch. His body really is not meant to sleep on couches, it gives him a lot of back pains (Niall has had an earful of Harry's complaints in the past) but Harry didn’t care tonight, he had such a long day and he’s just grateful that he gets to sleep in a warm apartment rather than a cold park bench or some moldy motel.

“Here babe,” her smooth voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Thanks s’much, love. I really appreciate it,” Harry smiled, gently taking the plaid blue pants and a plain black T-shirt from her hands (they were decorated with two silver rings, one on her pinky and ring finger. Harry thought that was quite cute given that he also wore silver rings).

“Oh please, it’s not a big deal. I couldn't just leave you out there, babe,” (Y/N) poked the dimple indented in his cheek and giggled. She really adored his smile as he did hers, there's just something about those dimples that just made (Y/N)’s knees weak.

↫ ↬

“Oh, will you shut the fuck up about that! I was 8! I’m not telling you shit about my childhood ever again, Styles!”

(Y/N) and Harry had soon learned that they weren’t going to get any sleep, not with the constant noise of police sirens going off; it was about 12, maybe 1 in the morning? Neither of them knew, both of them too caught up in a game of spades (in which (Y/N) had to repeatedly remind Harry of the rules) and the two boxes of pizza (Y/N) ordered (even though Harry had begged her to let him pay, she insisted saying he was the guest), to even think about sleep

(Y/N) was born and raised in New York, The Bronx specifically. It was dangerous as hell to be living out there sometimes but man, did she love that borough nonetheless. She knew just about everyone in South Bronx, most of them were like family to her. The Bronx was her home and it was also the last place anyone would want to tour when they came to New York, so for the life of her, she really couldn't figure out how this six feet, teddy bear looking dude stumbled into one of the most dangerous boroughs in the state.

“Okay okay (Y/N) I guess I’ll let it slide,” Harry bit his lip, trying to contain his laughter (she had just told him about the time one of her big brothers scared her so bad she pissed herself and Harry couldn’t stop laughing).

“Now here’s an important question that’ll really decide if I actually like you or not,” she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah okay shoot, curly Q,” she grinned, laying a seven of hearts on the stack.

“Do you drink your tea with milk or no?”

She immediately crinkled her nose in disgust.

“Fuck is you talk bout Styles? I don’t drink no wack ass tea” she giggled.

“Fuck is- are you talking about (Y/L/N),” he tried to copy her but failed miserably as it sounded absolutely ridiculous coming out of his mouth.

“Aww, been in New York for only a day and you’re already talking like me, cute!”

“Oi, shut up!” he stuck his tongue out, pouting, only making (Y/N) laugh harder.

“You’ve been laughing at me ever since I told you I was lost, you’re s’mean.”

“Nobody’s mean, you’re just too sensitive, baby,” she smirked.

Harry was quite embarrassed. (Y/N) had been calling him pet names (lover, sweets, sweetie, etc) ever since they had walked into her apartment and each time Harry’s stomach fluttered and he blushed (luckily for Harry, (Y/N) was oblivious to things as such).

↫ ↬

“That show was shit love,” he snorted.

“Shut up you just don’t understand it,”

Somehow, someway (Y/N) had talked Harry into watching an episode of Black Ink Crew: New York (a crazy reality tv show (Y/N) had been invested in since the first episode aired) after they had finished their game of spades (Harry was and still is confused about the rules and lost horribly).

“There was just a lot of drama. I couldn't keep up with all of it!” Harry groaned, resting his head on her shoulder taking one of her braids into his fingers and twirling around his long digits it as he imagined doing so when he first laid eyes on her.

“That’s why it’s good, babe! I’d rather watch someone else’s drama then have some in my own life,” she yawned.

“You’re tired, button?” Harry questioned, beginning to feel bad for keeping her up so late into the night.

“Just a bit, doesn’t matter, I’m sleeping out here anyway. I got the bedroom ready for you so just go in there when you’re ready to go to bed.”

“You- love, you’re not sleeping on the couch and M’not sleeping in your bed (Y/N),” he argued.

“Go get in the bed Harry, you just too tall to sleep on my couch,” she smiled, laying on the couch and wrapping the blanket around her small figure.

Harry just stared at her as she began to fall asleep. He was completely infatuated with this girl and he hadn’t even known her for a full 24 hours. No one in his entire life had been so nice and inviting to him. He hadn’t ever met someone who he wanted to be around all of the time, who he needed to be around all of the time. He couldn't understand why, even if she only meant it in a playful way, her calling him babe made his stomach flutter and made his cheeks rosy red. Harry couldn’t understand any of it and it annoyed the hell out of him, he ended up falling asleep on the couch along with her.

↫ ↬

“Jesus Niall I don’t know and I don’t really want to wake her up, she looks s’peaceful sleeping,” Harry whispered into the line while leaning on her kitchen counter.

“C’mon, you’re gonna to have to wake her up soon. Haven’t a fucking clue as to where you are mate! Got the whole day planned before we leave tomorrow,” Niall whined into the phone making Harry roll his eyes.

Harry really was in no rush to leave (Y/N) just yet. Quite honestly, he was so upset when she fell asleep he just stared at her and played with her braids and listened to her mumble every couple of minutes to pass the time because he didn’t want to waste his last couple of hours with her sleeping.

Harry was so engrossed in his phone he didn’t even realize she had woken up nor did he feel her arms wrap around his body until she mumbled a “good morning”.

“Oh good morning, pet. Didn’t even know you were awake yet,” he smiled turning to her.

“M’hungry,” she mumbled again, pressing her cheek to his shirt.

Harry’s heart sped up and his face began heating up (it annoyed Harry how much of an effect (Y/N) had on him).  He took this as an opportunity to play with her hair again, he was really in love with her braids. Harry just thought (Y/N) looked so damn pretty with them he really couldn’t help himself. She really was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, that would explain why Harry creepily watched her sleep (but he’d never tell a soul, not even Niall, that he did that to a woman he’d just met).

“I’m sorry, I’m like all up in yo personal space.”

“(Y/N) s’fine, really.”

“We can go to the city if you want. We could get some brekkie at a nice restaurant,” he offered, forgetting all about Niall’s plans for the day.

She just nodded and smiled.

“You can take a shower first, it’s gone take me a minute to figure out what I wanna wear today,” she grinned.

(Y/N) was so excited, not only because she was going to get some food in the city but because she was going to be able to spend the morning and hopefully, the afternoon with him. She wanted to show him around, take some memorable pictures, and hear some more crazy childhood stories with him, Gemma, and Anne. She just wanted to be around him as much as he wanted to be around her; they craved one another in every way.

↫ ↬

“(Y/N), I swear on everything if you take another bite of my fucking pancakes, I’m gonna f-”

“You ain’t gone do shit, Styles cause you ain't about shit,” (Y/N) was nearly in tears because of how hard she was laughing. They’d been cracking jokes from the moment they’d left (Y/N)’s apartment, to the train ride, to the bus, and now in the restaurant.

Being in New York really brought something out of Harry, a new attitude and a new perspective. Being with (Y/N) made him more observant (given that he’d almost gotten run over by a taxi while he was crossing the road before the sign said walk). He enjoyed being in the city. Even with it being his first time there, it felt like home and Harry can’t decide if it’s (Y/N) or if it’s just the vibes the city held that made him feel such.

“You’re quite annoying, y’know that (Y/N)?” she rolled her eyes and stuck her fork into Harry's pancakes again.

“Shut yo goofy ass up, you know you love it.”

Harry just looked down and grinned, he did love it but he just didn’t want to admit that to himself just yet. This moment with her was perfect. He lifted his head, his eyes met with (Y/N) typing on her phone and god, did she look beautiful. Maybe it was the sun bouncing off of her chocolate skin, or the way her braids were styled, or maybe it was just the contrast of her skin and her red shirt that made it just impossible for Harry to stop staring at her.

(Y/N) lifted her head from her phone and smiled fondly at him.

“You’re staring again, goofy.”

“S-sorry you just look...” he paused

“I look...?” she smirked.

“Beau-”

“Harry, mate is that you?! God, I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Niall interrupted them.

Harry nearly choked, turning to meet his Irish lad.

“Nearly turned the city upside down searching for y- Oh? Who might this be eh?”

“I’m (Y/N), you must be Niall, Harry’s told me all about you.” she smiled, introducing herself to the enthusiastic blonde boy.

“So sorry you had to deal with Harry here, I know he must’ve been a pain in the ass.”

“Oh yeah, definitely the worst,” she teased.

“Oi, M’right here,” Harry whined, pouting like a baby.

“Oh gosh, didn’t even see you there mate.”

(Y/N) and Niall began laughing making Harry a tad annoyed and a bit jealous of how well they were already getting along (which he knew they would, both of them have similar goofy personalities, however, it still annoyed him).

“Niall sit down, have you eaten anything? You can get whatever you want, it’s on me,” (Y/N) offered.

Niall sat down next to Harry and began conversing with (Y/N), asking her about her life, how old she was simple casual topics. Once the two of them got to talking there was no stopping them. (Y/N) thought Niall was so adorable she had made it a point to constantly call him cute throughout their entire conversation, and Harry didn’t like that at all. They were cracking jokes, telling childhood stories, talking as though they’d known each other for years and that just didn’t sit well with Harry. He didn’t want her to become close with Niall, he only wanted her from himself. Yes, it was selfish but Harry really didn’t give a damn, (Y/N) was his even though she wasn’t.

“Niall,” he interrupted the both of them

“What are you doing here?” he pressed.

“Hm?” Niall’s gaze lingering on (Y/N) to long for Harry's comfort.

“Oh yeah! I’ve been calling you all bloody morning so I could come to get you! I told you I had plans for us today and you didn’t answer mate!”

Harry had been ignoring Niall calls since him and (Y/N) boarded the train on purpose. He didn’t want to leave (Y/N) even though he knew he was going to part ways with her soon.

“Harry, why you ain't tell me you had made plans with Niall? I could've gotten you back to him sooner babe,"

"Yeah lad, been blowing up your line all morning! Could've sent a text or something," Niall chimed in, making Harry roll his eyes.

Harry was so damn annoyed with him. Why couldn't Niall come at a different time when Harry wasn't in the middle of telling her how beautiful he thought she was? Why couldn't Niall come at a time when they weren't at breakfast? Why’d Niall have to come now and take all the attention from him? Why couldn't Niall come at any other time than this? Harry knew he was going to have to reunite with him at some point, he knew he going to have to leave (Y/N) and go home which is why he just wanted to enjoy his last few hours with her alone.

“I... I just wanted to eat before I came back with you Nialler,” he lied.

“Well hurry up and finish what’s left on your plate. Gotta catch a tour at 11! S’ten twenty now, and we’ve still gotta take a bus to get there,” Niall instructed.

Harry looked up and locked eyes with (Y/N) who gave him a small faux smile.

“You guys should probably get going. I don’t think cute pie here would be too happy if you missed your tour.”

“Thank you! Someone who understands, now let’s get going H,” Niall grabbed his arm, ready to get going to the very expensive tour of NYC he paid a generous amount for (Niall wasn’t too keen on wasting money so he wasn’t about to let Harry blow through seventy-five dollars so easy).

↫ ↬

“Can I at least walk you to the train station?”

“You’ll be late for you tour babe, Niall really wants to go,” she smiled sympathetically.

Harry really really really didn’t want to fucking leave. His stomach sank and his mouth became incredibly dry. He'd known her for less than twenty-four hours and he was nearly about to lose it

“Well (Y/N), it was really nice meeting you. Again, m’sorry you had to go through the pain of sleeping in the same flat as Harry here,” Niall joked, earning a small laugh from (Y/N).

“Ah, you’re buggin’ it was really no problem. It was nice meeting you too cute pie,” (Y/N) smiled, pinching Niall’s cheeks before giving him a short friendly hug.

Harry frowned when it was his turn, the moment he had been dreading since she sat down on the park bench with him last night was finally happening.

“Don’t make that face babe. We’ll see each other again, you’ve got my number so you’d better use it or else I’ll be tight, m’kay kid?”

He sighed deeply and mumbled, “Okay”.

She pulled him into a bear hug, both of them wrapping their arms around one another not wanting to let go. Harry took one of (Y/N)’s braids and twirled it around his finger again for what seemed like the last time. He inhaled her vanilla perfume, desperately to remember small details about this girl before he left.

“This isn’t goodbye goodbye. Just... Goodbye for now, okay?” she tried to cheer him up, seeing how upset he was.

“Next time you bored and in need of somebody to talk to, or if you ever end up in The Bronx again just call me,” she grinned (Harry really adored her smile, it was one of the main features he was going to miss about her).

They unwrapped their arms around one another.

“C’mon Harry, we’ve gotta go!”

“Bye (Y/N),” the words tasting bitter coming from his mouth

“Bye babe, I’ll see you when I see you,” (Y/N) flashed him one last smile before turning and walking to the train station, Harry turning and walking to Niall.

Harry had a shitty start to his mini vacation that was totally unplanned but he’d, without a doubt go through it a million more times if it meant he got to see her again. (Y/N) was special and Harry would soon understand why his stomach fluttered every time she called him babe, why he was so entranced while playing with her braids, and why that his next trip to New York would be more memorable than the last.

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles dirty imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles dirty blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles dirty one shot #harry styles preference #harry styles dirty preference #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry #styles #smut #fluff #one direction #louis tomlinson #niall horan #liam payne

[nadiineross]

requested by @ladies-of-lodge for “chloe on her deathbed”

note: i call this one “adventure grandmas and their glory days”. i wrote this in chunks and did some editing so bear with me i promise its not that bad

Chloe woke up with a heavy feeling in her gut, a sense of foreboding hanging over her. 

Today was the day she was going to die. 

She wasn’t sad or angry or any other emotion she thought she’d feel when the time came, just quietly acceptant. Then again, she always assumed she’d die somewhere darker, some way darker, and by the hand of someone that wished her ill. She also thought it would happen in her thirties, forties at most. 

Two and a bit decades too late for something like that to happen. She retired in her sixties, well-off enough to last her till this day. 

The first part of her retirement was eventful, to say the least. (She doesn’t think elderly women scaling the climbing wall faster than young college students at the local gym is an ordinary sight.)

While her permanent residence was in South Africa, where she was now, she had spent most of her later years still living like a nomad and embarking on low-risk adventures. 

She had only officially thrown in the towel barely a decade ago when a particularly nasty fall busted her knee and gave Nadine a rather unpleasant concussion. After that, her health started to decline. Nadine’s did too, of course, but not at Chloe’s pace.

Speaking of whom... 

“Morning.” Nadine rolled over, muffling her yawn with the back of a thin hand. 

Chloe smiled, blinking through the bleariness and reaching out to lay a hand over Nadine’s cheek. “Morning, love.”

After pressing a chaste kiss to Chloe’s palm, she turned and pushed herself off their mattress. 

Nadine’s birthday passed a couple months back. It was a quiet affair since most of their friends had passed, from natural causes or otherwise. Chloe had taken her to a nice restaurant by the ocean and they’d walked along the coast to their bench afterwards, sitting and talking for hours. 

She had cracked every joke possible about feeding pigeons as a hobby when they’d first sat on that bench. 

She sat up then, watching Nadine shimmy into a pair of cargo pants. “I want to go to the beach today.” 

Nadine glanced over her shoulder and her lips twitching into a smile. “Okay. Should I save some leftover toast for the seagulls?” 

“Oh. Yes,” Chloe said, “Crust, whole wheat. I take my hobbies very seriously, Ross.” 

Nadine laughed. They did not have bread or similarly hard to chew foods that didn’t return in flavour in their home. That’s just something Chloe will have to die resenting. 

It was a few hours later when they were both ready to go. She still remembered the first casual morning they had spent together. It was stormy outside, so they had all the lights on and the space heater plugged in. 

Ah, to be young and in love. Not that she would’ve ever admitted to herself that she was truly and deeply in love with her partner at the time. No, that would take her two more years and a gunshot wound to finally say it out loud. Nadine was not enthused about the timing, but she’d said it back anyway through bloody, grit teeth. 

Chloe sighed and examined the spots on her hands. That was what retrospection did, made her sigh forlornly and out of nowhere.

“What?” Nadine asked, coming around the corner with a baseball hat on this time. 

“Nothing,” Chloe replied immediately, looking up and grinning. Then, she sighed again and grasped Nadine’s hand. “China?” 

The corners of Nadine’s eyes crinkled when she smiled. “Ja?” 

“I love you, really, but the hat needs to go.” 

Nadine rolled her eyes and, very pointedly, turned to the door and said, “I love you too.” 

She came back a moment later with two canes, one she leaned against on her forearm, the other she levelled out, handle pointing at Chloe. “This or the chair?” 

“I think I can make do without today,” she said, heaving herself to her feet. Nadine, out of pure instinct at this point, held her by the bicep until she was steady with the cane. She leaned over to kiss Nadine thoroughly on the mouth and grabbed a water bottle. “Ready?” 

“Ja, I’ll get the door.” 

Chloe scoffed, patting Nadine’s calf with the end of her cane. “I can still open doors, wrinkles and all, thank you very much.” 

Nadine twirled their house keys around one finger and raised an eyebrow. She opened the door with a wry look. “It’s called chivalry, but okay.” 

The door closed, Nadine outside and Chloe left alone in the hall. 

Chloe gave an indignant huff, but couldn’t help the face-splitting grin when the door opened again a second later, Nadine peering through the crack. 

“You’re ridiculous.” 

“Learned it from you.” 

“You pass with flying colours. Want a little reward or two?” 

Nadine’s smile turned coy. “Do you want to go out or not?” 

It was a ten-minute walk to the bench at their usual pace, but Chloe found herself unable to move quite as fast as she did the night of Nadine’s birthday. Nadine didn’t complain though, occasionally straying to lean against the fence separating the boardwalk from the sand and watch the birds swoop down. 

There was a breeze blowing by, on the cusp of being too cold, but pleasant enough as it was. For Chloe, at least. When they finally reached the rickety bench, however, the first thing Nadine did was burrow closer so that Chloe could do nothing but lift an arm to drape around her shoulders. 

Nadine had stopped being shy about these things decades ago, though if Chloe really tried, she could still make her go beet red. Not today.

Nadine sighed, head lolling to bump briefly against Chloe’s. “Goddamn cold.” 

“If you want my coat, you’re going to have to ask for it,” Chloe teased, moving to unbutton the front anyway. 

“I’m fine,” Nadine said with a roll of her eyes. “In a mood, are you? Killing chivalry and romance, and all before lunch.” 

Chloe grinned, impish. “Yet you’ve stayed with me for how many years exactly?” 

They’re quiet for a while, introspective suddenly. As they grew older, Chloe realized that she had a lot to reflect on and she happened to take the time to do just that much more frequently than she would’ve thought. 

It’s true for Nadine, too. They often found themselves in thoughtful silences, especially after their retirement, no job to distract themselves with. Well, either that or their years together are showing through. She never imagined she’d be in a relationship that lasted this long, grown so familiar that she could sit in a room in complete and utter silence for hours on end — and without starting something either. 

Chloe supposed that if her old self were surprised with the way her life had gone, she must have done something right. She was, in all honesty, a bit of a mess in her twenties and thirties. 

“Almost sixty years,” Nadine said suddenly, jarring Chloe out of her own thoughts. 

“What?” Chloe blinked down at the top of Nadine’s head, dark grey hairs tickling her cheek. 

Nadine’s eyes fluttered shut as she inhaled deeply, softly, through her nose. “We’ve been together fifty-five years in total.” 

“Huh.” Chloe raised her eyebrows. “Nice number, that. Over half a century.” 

It would’ve been past that number if they hadn’t split when she was in her early forties and Nadine was in her late thirties. Chloe refused to call it “breaking up”, even if that was what technically happened. It was more of a four year long hiatus taken so that they could give single life one more go and then mature enough to realize that it was, overall, a very shitty and very boring way to live. 

After they met again on an island whilst hunting for the same treasure, after fighting and fucking and fighting again, they settled their differences and hadn’t parted since. Chloe thanked whichever higher power there was for it. 

Here they were, fifty-five years in total. They wouldn’t reach fifty-six, Chloe knew, but she was relatively happy with how they’d spent the years they were afforded together.

“Did you take your meds this morning?” Chloe asked. 

Nadine didn’t reply. Instead, she produced three small plastic containers from her pocket and gave them a prattle. 

“Do you have water?” 

“No, but you do.” 

Chloe scoffed, uncapping and handing the bottle over. 

With some care, Nadine removed her pills from their containers, gathered them in a cupped palm, and tossed them all in her mouth. “Thanks.” 

Even with all that, Nadine was the healthier of the two. Chloe had at least always known she would be outlived by her partner, this she did not have any doubts about. 

She had only grown frailer after her retirement. Who knew a career that involved landing dangerously high falls and suffering from multiple concussions could affect your health in the long term? 

Nadine had suffered her own share of health issues but not quite as badly or as many as Chloe did. 

Because of that, Chloe had quickly tired of hospitals and had been proportionally horrified at the idea of being put in a home. Nadine slept in the guest room for three days after proposing that brilliant idea. 

She lifted her hand experimentally, watching it tremor and quake. Frankly, she was a bit disappointed her body had fucked up so soon. The doctors had told her what was coming and their general predictions, so she had mostly made peace with it. Still, she could be quietly disappointed, couldn’t she? 

Nadine, ever alert, caught onto her souring mood and set out to lift her spirits, grasping Chloe’s wobbling hand in her own as tightly as she could without hurting — which wasn’t very. 

“You okay?” she asked, barely over a murmur.

Chloe let out a slow breath and grinned. “Of course, love. My arthritis puts me in a wonderful mood.”

“Me too,” Nadine said, putting on a serious face. “That’s why I’m with you.” 

“My arthritis?” 

“Ja.” Nadine was only encouraged by Chloe’s stifled guffaw. “Gets me going.”

Chloe burst out with a laugh, lightly slapping Nadine’s knee with her other hand. “You’re terrible.”

“Don’t pretend you aren’t with me for my aching joints either.” 

They dissolved into giggles, huddling closer to each other. 

Moments later, calmed down and in a better mood, Chloe took a hold of Nadine’s face in both hands. Nadine waited, unwavering in her stare.

“I can’t express why I’m with you because I’d have to explain how you make me feel and there aren’t enough words to describe that,” she started, hushed yet firm. “I just...” 

Nadine slipped her hands over Chloe’s, opening her mouth to speak. 

Immediately, Chloe shook her head. “Listen, please.” A beat, then a single nod. “I love you. You’re smart and amazing and, god, so strong.” 

“I’m not.”

This, she knew Nadine couldn’t stay silent about. She might not have said in so many words, but she was someone who was built like a god and had slowly atrophied with age and going through it had put many a dent in her ego. It had turned out to be a sore spot for Nadine, one she had gotten better with, yes, but she would still be occasionally self-depreciating when she reckoned she could get away with it. Chloe would always shut her right up though. 

“No. Nadine, you are the strongest person I know, and not because everyone else we know is either sick or dead. We’ve been through thick and thin; you’ve toughed it out.” She smiled. It felt bittersweet. “And I know you’ll get through whatever else that might come after. I just want you to know that. That you’re strong and that’s one of the things I love you for.” 

Nadine was not an idiot. Any fading traces of her good mood vanished abruptly. “Frazer.” 

She couldn’t help it, she laughed. Frazer? Nadine only whipped that one out when she was pissed and Chloe would know if she were before she even said it. Not this time. 

It felt like India, all those years ago. 

Instead of a smoking helicopter and the carcass of Shoreline in the background, they had the gentle blues of rolling waves and the afternoon sky. This seemed much more fitting for a final goodbye speech. 

She choked on whatever humour she had felt. Her final goodbye. Christ. 

Nadine had the same look on her face in India: eyes soft with pleading, eyebrows knit, jaw tensed shut. Everything felt so fragile in this moment, Chloe didn’t dare move. 

“Chloe,” Nadine said, pitched low and measured. 

A stronger gust blew by, shaking out the loose strands from the side of Nadine’s head, where her stupid cap didn’t reach, into her face. Chloe still did not move. 

“We’re old. We both take a cocktail of meds every morning and night. It’s natural.” 

“If I listened when people told me about what was and wasn’t natural, we would not be here,” Nadine spat, gone rigid against Chloe’s side. And, as if she could read Chloe’s mind, she drew away, putting them at an arm’s distance away. 

Chloe blinked, looking down at her hands and following the bones jutting from her skin. 

“You can’t save me from old age,” she said, mildly. 

She didn’t doubt that if Nadine could physically brawl it out with Death, she would. 

“You don’t need to.”

Nadine scooted back, taking one of Chloe’s hands in hers, and said earnestly, “We’ll go to the hospital. I’ll call a taxi.” 

“Oh, china,” Chloe sighed and then finally moved, stooping lower to catch her eye. She decided, looking at Nadine, she would give her one last lie to tide her over. “We all die. It happens, and we always knew I’d kick the bucket first. It might happen today, tomorrow, next bloody year, but it will happen. I just wanted you to know that I love you before I go. That’s all.” 

Nadine regarded her in silence, hands slackening just slightly. She had gotten better at telling when Chloe lied, but there must have been some part of her that didn’t want to call this one out because she stayed silent. 

They’re old, death was, reasonably, an oft touched upon subject. They had even managed to make writing their wills a fun activity, both tired of how morose they could get when they talked about their fast-approaching ends. 

And even before they had retired, considering their occupational hazards, they had talked about it. 

Chloe remembered the promise she made decades ago about her death. Perhaps it was foolishly agreed to, but it was a promise nonetheless. Not that she had always kept them, but she tried her best for the important ones and owned up to it when she didn’t. 

(It was midnight. She was laying on Nadine’s naked chest, listening to her quickened heartbeat, when she brought it up. Nadine’s hand in her hair had stilled and she’d tucked her chin over her collarbone, looking at Chloe with a deep frown. 

“What do you mean?” 

Chloe had shrugged, kissed Nadine's chest, and said again, “I think I’d know on the day of my death that it would be my last. I mean, if it was of old age. Unlikely, but...” Nadine’s frown deepened. “I’d wake up in the morning and it would just make sense. I would know.”

“...Like a sixth sense?” she asked, slow and incredulous like Chloe was an idiot. 

Chloe had narrowed her eyes and clapped her hand on Nadine’s abdomen for that. “You could call it that.” 

“Okay.” Nadine laughed, shrugged awkwardly, and tightened her arms around Chloe’s middle. It was endearing, so much so that Chloe decided then she would not bring this up again, but then Nadine had asked, “Will you promise to tell me? On the day?” 

Chloe remembered she had felt funny upon hearing that Nadine thought they’d last that long. She remembered she had nodded hastily and pushed up to meet Nadine’s mouth, so she didn’t have to think about it.) 

Chloe supposed she could stand to break one more promise. 

It didn’t really count. Nadine knew now, in some way, shape, or form. Besides, just bringing it up would have at least prompted Nadine to start mentally preparing. She hoped it would, at least. 

Nadine’s grip tightened again. “You’re such a dickhead.” 

“I know.” Chloe lifted a hand, brushing springs of hair away from Nadine’s eyes with the back of her fingers. “We’ve lived a fun life, haven't we?” 

“Yes.” 

“A happy life?” 

“Yes.” 

“A good life?” 

“A good life,” Nadine echoed in agreement. 

Chloe leaned forwards, pressing a small kiss to the corner of Nadine’s mouth. “That’s all I could’ve asked for.” 

She reclined into the bench, pulling Nadine along so they were pressed together once again. 

“So... want me to go back to listing why I’m with you?”

Nadine hid a grin in her collar. “Don’t start.” 

“I was only going to say your arse.” Chloe sniffed but broke into a grin when Nadine dug her chin into the dip of her shoulder. 

There was a natural lapse in the conversation, the sound of waves and overhead birds filling in the silence. 

Nadine must have still been cold because she wedged closer into Chloe’s side and shivered. 

That was her cue. Chloe kissed the crown of her head and reached for their canes. “Let’s get going. We’ve got yesterday’s leftovers for lunch.” 

Nadine got shakily to her feet and pressed in for a kiss, something warm and intimate and long as their kisses were wont to be. 

The way back was faster, lacking the pit stops this time. The ocean really was beautiful, but they’ve seen it a thousand times before. 

Their afternoon was spent similarly: sat down, silences filled with conversation and pauses filled with whatever senior citizens did in their free time. 

Nadine had picked up the habit of reading all of Chloe’s old reference books she’d used for their adventures. She'd spent two days emptying Chloe’s many storage units into their spare room and had been slowly making her way through it all. Sometimes, she stopped to point out an old scribble Chloe had written years before or to discuss something she’d read which, more often than not, ended up being a nostalgic session of remember-whens and back-in-the-days. 

In Chloe’s case, she liked to fall into a stream of endless clickbait articles and banal smartphone games. 

Today, however, Chloe was content to just lay her head in Nadine’s lap and listen to the turning of pages and the muted sound of Nadine’s reactions. 

Nadine, being considerate as always, made sure to pause more often than usual to point out a fun fact about an artefact they’d found back in the summer of 20whatever. 

For dinner, Chloe made Nadine’s favourite Indian dishes. She considered spicing up the presentation but didn’t bother in the end. She wanted some sense of normalcy, even though she hadn’t put this much effort into making a meal since New Year’s. 

Nadine caught one whiff from an open pot and was already sitting down at the island. They had a dinner table, but they only ever ate there if guests were over. 

As she watched her fork shake in her hand, Chloe found that she didn’t feel any bitterness. She figured that there wouldn’t be any last minute regrets rearing their ugly heads tonight. She’d be getting her last supper exactly the way she wanted it. 

Afterwards, they did the dishes side by side. They had a dishwasher, but neither of them used one growing up and preferred to do it by hand when they had the time which was almost every night now that they were old. 

“Do you have any regrets?” Chloe asked, suddenly. 

A plate slid into the drying rack. Nadine picked up another. “No.” 

“Anything you’d like to do before you die?” 

Nadine gave her a look. “I’m 86, I’ve done everything I’ve wanted to do already. Probably before I even turned fifty.” 

Chloe pouted. “You’re no fun.” 

“Well, what about you?” Nadine asked, accusing, and when Chloe didn’t answer for several long seconds, she snorted. “Exactly.” 

She would’ve tossed some soap at Nadine if she were younger and could stand without leaning against the sink. She made do with plonking a bowl into a soapy tub of water, splashing some suds onto Nadine’s shirt. 

Nadine only smiled. 

There was something charming about this. Just the thought of them, so old and still pathetically in love with each other, upholding traditions from when they were younger makes her smile.  It was why she loved their house and the off-colour bench overseeing the ocean, though she’d never voiced this.

It was mostly because of this that she was okay with dying and with knowing it would come very soon. 

She had hated and loved and been broken and fixed. Her life had been full and had turned out to be fuller. It was only fitting that she’d die while still with the woman who she had found and had stayed by her side throughout what came after.

She was content with how things were with Nadine and how things had gone with everyone else; all her loose ends were tied and tied well. 

It made sense that she would pass in this stage of her life, where she was blissful and accepting of it. Not many of her old acquaintances were spared a peaceful death; it was, frankly, extraordinary that she would die on an ordinary day.  

While Nadine organised the drying rack, Chloe finished off rinsing the last plate and handed it off. 

Routine.

It was something that Nadine had found herself returning to after their retirement and gradually Chloe came around to it. 

That wasn’t to say she had abandoned spontaneity entirely; retirement lacked excitement and they were both closeted adrenalin junkies, they were bound to break routine up just for the fun of it — they travelled on the drop of a hat and ordered from new takeout places regardless of bad Yelp reviews. Chloe called it lukewarm adventuring.

The point was: routine was safe and comfortable and reliable, and that was what Nadine needed right now. Some part of Chloe found she enjoyed it too, though she suspected this was largely due being around a carefree Nadine. That, she would never tire of. 

So they followed their nightly rituals which mostly consisted of getting ready for bed and taking their pills. 

Nadine brought a book to bed, a different one from the one she had in the afternoon, and took out her reading glasses. They were thin and sometimes hung around Nadine’s neck by a string if they weren’t perched on her nose. 

When she first got them, she had held Chloe’s hand just a tad too tight on the way home, staring down passing trees in a stony silence. Clearly, they both had some issues handling their bodily deterioration with grace. 

Eventually, after months of Chloe jumping her while in glasses, she didn’t seem to hate them as much. She even cracked a joke or two when she was in a mood. 

Chloe smiled at the memory. 

“Are you going to say something?” Nadine asked, barely sparing her a side eye. “Sexy librarian jokes? Four eyes?” 

“No,” Chloe said after some consideration. 

“No?” 

“Should we have you fitted with hearing aids?” 

Turning, Nadine put her book on the side table. “Insufferable.” 

“You love me.” Chloe grinned, but before she could make out another word, she felt an itch in her throat. 

Quickly, she flipped onto her back and broke into a coughing fit. She let her body hack itself raw, resigned. 

When she looked over, Nadine had a tissue box in her lap and was sat up in attention. 

Chloe wordlessly accepted a tissue and let Nadine place a soothing hand on her shoulder. 

“Jesus fuck,” Chloe wheezed.

“We’ll go to the hospital tomorrow,” she said as Chloe coughed one last time before subsiding. “Chloe.” 

“I’m fine.” She held the tissue over her face, squinting at it. There was a spot of red. Instantly, she scrunched the tissue up. Nadine shouldn’t see that. “I’m fine, love. I promise.” 

She was. Mentally, at least. She doubted Nadine would agree with this definition, so she pushed herself up with a great amount of effort and aimed for the bin. 

“Kobe,” she hooted, or croaked, really. It fell short and she sighed. 

“You’re not funny.” 

Chloe fell back with her eyes squeezed shut. Shit, she had a headache. “Nadine. I’m fine.”

After a moment, she felt the bed shift and then dip once Nadine returned. She sank down too, their arms glued to each other under the blanket. 

Nadine curled her fingers around Chloe’s limp hand. 

Finally, in a tone so low and so soft, she spoke, “Chloe. Please.”

Chloe rolled her head to the side and found Nadine already looking back at her, their faces only inches apart. 

“I love you,” she said, raspy enough to be barely audible. “I’m glad I got to spend today with you.” 

Again, she had that look on her face that made Chloe ache in her chest. Nadine’s eyes were wet with muted sorrow, a subtle twitch at her jaw as she clenched and unclenched her teeth. 

“God, don’t do that,” she said, reaching out to cup Nadine’s cheek. “You have made me a very happy woman. You don’t even have to bloody do anything, I just love you.” 

Nadine’s eyes fell to the outline of their hands under the sheets and then fell shut. 

“And don’t get me started on your arthritis.” 

Nadine laughed wetly, grip tightening as she did. “You’re such a dick.” 

“I am, aren’t I?” Chloe agreed with a snort. “Good to hear me say it?” 

“Ja.” Nadine nodded. She arched forward and Chloe met her halfway for a chaste kiss. “I love you too.” 

From their distance, Chloe could count Nadine’s eyelashes. She didn’t, watching Nadine’s lips part for a shaky exhale instead. 

Chloe pulled their joined hands to her face, sighing into the knuckles. 

“If you want to sleep in the spare—”

Nadine inhaled sharply. “Maybe later.” 

“This is how I wanted today to go, okay?” Nadine didn’t reply. “We’ve talked about this, love. No hospitals, I just needed you. You’ve made it perfect.” 

Her hand twinged from Nadine’s grip, but she didn’t complain. 

“Okay,” Nadine said, then stopped short. 

Chloe smiled. It was sad and genuine. She rarely ever faked them nowadays. “I’ll see you in the afterlife.” 

“The first time I came with you with certain death guaranteed, I was riding shotgun and you were driving.”

“We’ve come full circle,” Chloe said. 

Today was a day tangled with reminiscence, it seemed. 

“Shit,” Nadine muttered, first covering her mouth with a hand, then dragging her knuckles under the corner of her eye. 

Chloe felt her own eyes prick. She really was okay with this, but it was hard not to be empathetic when she was face to face with the one person who might not be, held in her arms. 

“I love you,” she said because she didn’t know what else to say. 

Nadine smiled — or bore her teeth — and nodded. She pulled back, took a deep breath, and sat up. 

Chloe understood, really. Who would want to go to sleep knowing the person they’d gone to bed with would be a corpse in the morning? 

She reached out for Nadine’s forearm who stilled under her touch. “One more time?” 

Nadine’s back shifted, her whole body sagging with her sigh. She put her jaw against her shoulder, eyes moving from the edge of the mattress to meet Chloe’s. Her cheeks were damp.

This time, her smile was real. 

“I love you.” 

Chloe closed her eyes and relaxed into her pillow. 

Nadine shuffled out, cane tapping lightly against the wooden floor. The door closed with a click. 

And, well, Chloe Frazer had another train to catch. 

#chlodine #tll #chlodinefics #lmk if u liked it by liking dropping a comment and hitting the subscribe button #im kidding but i appreciate any feedback i get whether its commenting asks msging me or the tags on ur reblogs sjdkfhdskjhskj #i read it all

[subtlerain]

Mask - Part I

→ Yoongi x Reader

I ♥ II ♥ III ♥ IV

Summary: Moving to Seoul to work at your ideal job was a dream come true. But when you get attacked on the street, you think your life is over, but a mysterious boy comes to your rescue, turning out to be a bigger part of your life than you ever thought. 

Genre: There will be more fluff, romance and possibly angst in later chapters!

Warnings: Mention of assault and getting attacked, so if you’re sensitive to that please be cautious! (It’s not that intense though, as I tried to be wary!)

A/N: Alright my pals! I’m back with another story, and this time it will be a series! I honestly have no idea how long it will be, but please look forward to new chapters. I have a good feeling about this one...

Ask/requests  ♥  Masterlist

You clutched your jacket tighter around your body, wishing the material of your raincoat was just a little thicker. You shivered as you stepped in a dirty puddle, gritting your teeth as you felt cold rainwater soak into your converse.

You sighed as you paused in the middle of the street. All you wanted was one week. One week where you wouldn’t have to worry about deadlines or waking up early to rush to work or having to come up with new ideas for outfits and hairstyles everyday. You had just wanted one week to yourself to settle in before your first day.

But the world wouldn’t have it that way.

It had started with your week being shortened to five days, as your flight got overbooked the first day, and bad weather had delayed your flight on the following day, causing you another day of stress at the airport before finally being able to fly on the third day of trying. You had arrived late at your new apartment only to discover that the heater had broken, and you had nearly frozen to death your first night. With getting lost in Seoul’s subway system when you tried to shop for groceries, and your noisy neighbours not letting you sleep a wink, you had had a very stressful couple of days.

It was safe to say that you had lost all hope for this day too, as here you were, having to walk home in a rainstorm, growing worried about your route home as you passed more and more unfamiliar buildings.

For a second, you closed your eyes, listening to the rain as it bounced off your hood. It was peaceful, the rain. Although it chilled you to the core, you tried to somehow look on the bright side. Except for the almost comedic pathetic fallacy of the situation, the rain was nice. Maybe this was your price to pay for being able to live here, in your ideal city, starting your dream job tomorrow.

You opened your eyes suddenly when you heard obnoxious laugher from in front of you. Stumbling from the bar to your right were a group of men, their faces twisted in drunken laughter. You stared at them for a moment, smirking. Drunk people are really such an embarrassing sight, you thought.

All of a sudden, one of the men looked at you, a smirk now forming on his lips. Your smile dropped as you made eye contact, instantly feeling nervous. You were just about to turn around when he stumbled forwards and grabbed your arm harshly. You looked up at him in fear, stomach dropping.

“….Hey, what’re you doing out here all alone?” He asked, words slurring.

You stared at him as his friends all smirked at you.

He stepped closer, leaning into you, grasp still tight on your arm. “How about we get you out of this rain, huh?” He smiled, his eyes darkening as he traced his eyes over your face. The smell of alcohol on him made you gag.

“No. Take your hands off me.” You said sternly, finally finding your voice. Your body starting to tremble.

You were met by “ooo”’s from the man’s friends. They crowded around you, towering above your small frame.

“You know honey, I don’t think I will.” The main said again, this time roughly pulling your arm as his friends grabbed at you, causing you to cry out.

“No! S-stop! Let me go!” You cried as your eyes blurred with tears.

The man roughly pulled your hair, a devilish grin spreading over his face, “You need to stop yelling sweetheart, I don’t want anyone taking you away from me…” The man laughed, and he threw his arm around you as he pulled you farther away.

“No, please…” You weakly cried as you struggled to escape. In this moment, you thought you were going to die. Or worse, have something terrible done to you, and never be able to escape the nightmare. Tears streamed down your face as your body shook violently. You prayed for anything, anyone to help you.

And then something unexpected happened. The man’s face changed to confusion as he looked at something behind you.

SMACK!

And then he was on the ground.

You screamed as you fell to the ground as well, covering your head with your hands in fear, mind spinning. You heard more punches being thrown, not daring to look up. The man in front of you quickly got up, clutching his bloodied face as he ran off with his friends, an angry and slightly scared look on his face.

At first you thought it was a dream as you lay on the wet sidewalk, rain falling on your head, eyes dripping with tears. But then you felt an arm around you, but unlike the man’s, this touch soft, comforting, and protecting.

“Come on, stand up. We need to get you outta here.” It was a guy’s voice, low and deep as his arms helped you stand up.

You collapsed into his arms, shaking against his chest, eyes slammed shut. The rain was loud around you, numbing your body.

“Shh…alright, you’re okay now.” He said quietly, rubbing circles on your back. He slowly took you away from the street, walking you around the main road to the back alleyway, picking up at the pace as the two of you headed to a small overhang at the back of a ramen shop.

You tried to calm yourself down as you leaned against the wall, thankful that the rain was no longer pouring down on you. For the first time, you looked up at the stranger.

He was only slightly taller than you, and was dressed from head to toe in black. He had a long black jacket on, and a hoodie underneath with his hood up. The only hint of colour was that of the small section of his fringe you could see, a gleaming silver. His eyes peeked out at you from behind a black face mask and baseball cap.

You wiped your tears from your cheeks, not knowing quite what to say. Your mind was still fuzzy, the events that just happened blurry in your mind.

You stood there for a minute, just looking out into the rain. You watched the way the rain drops slid off the tops of the buildings, some making their journey by way of eavestroughs, others simply plopping to the ground.

There was a puddle by your feet, the dark sky overhead mirrored in the clear water. Growing up, you had lived in the countryside, playing outside with your friends when the moon and stars were out, the bright balls of light gleaming down on you. You missed that in the city you were now living in.

You sighed as you closed your eyes. The event that had just happened was traumatic, but unfortunately not uncommon in the world, and you took a moment to think about all the people who were so unlucky, as they weren’t able to escape. You felt as sadness creep into your stomach, new tears forming in your eyes.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered.

You felt the boy beside you shift, “Why the hell are you apologizing?” He asked harshly.

You turned to him, “I’m sorry for all the people who didn’t have a good person like you to help them.” You said simply, you eyes gazing into his.

Although you could hardly see his expression, his dark eyes changed for a moment, softening at your words. Although his actions he displayed were intense and physical, his demeanour now was quiet and clam. His shoulders were hunched and his eyes were droopy, and you wondered why he was out so late when he was obviously tired.

He looked down, “I did what I knew I needed to do.” He said softly, his deep voice muffled by his mask. “I knew those drunks wouldn’t have let you go through discussion.”

You smiled weakly at that. “I can hardly believe that just happened. Dealing with people like that is normal, but they were going to do was just so…”

“Disgusting.” He finished coldly. You looked at him, watching as his fists clenched. You smiled sightly. This stranger seemed so interesting to you. Because of his hidden face, you really couldn’t tell how old he was, his stance and hair made you believe he was younger, but his personality gave you a different vibe.

“I have to ask you, what are you doing on this side of town?” He asked quickly, sticking his hands in his pockets.

You leaned against the banister of the shop, looking away, “I was walking home…but I must’ve started walking in the wrong direction…” You admitted.

He laughed, “Why didn’t you just get a cab?”

You smiled weakly, “I forgot my wallet…”

He shook his head, crossing his arms,  “So you’re telling me, you were walking alone without your wallet-”

“At night…” You added, looking down, realizing how careless you had been.

He raised his eyebrows, “…Walking alone at night without your wallet-“

“As a small, naive girl.” You added again, a playful note in your voice.

“You, a small naive girl, were walking alone at night without your wallet-“

You held your finger up, “In a rainstorm.” You finished.

The boy shook his head at your comment, laughing slightly. It always helped you to find the humour in hard situations, and you were glad he was letting you joke around with him.

You cocked your head. “If you’re so concerned about me walking alone on this side of town, why were you?” You asked.

He shrugged, “Ah, I wasn’t doing anything important. I was just making my nightly drug money run, after I robbed a bank of course.” He said nonchalantly, his eyes darting up to meet yours.

You shook your head, grinning, “You’re too much…” You said, eyeing him. He certainly didn’t look like a criminal, but he didn’t exactly look like a normal citizen. You scanned his body, your eyes landing on his shoes. They were black boots, but they looked newly polished and very expensive. His light hair was also a point of interest, as white-silver hair was usually not a common colour. He seemed to noticed you looking at him, as he pulled his hat down further down on his head, clearing his throat as he reached into his pocket.

He pulled out a (not surprisingly) black wallet. He fished around in it, finally producing a couple of crumpled bills.

“Here.” He said, stretching his hand out to you.

You looked at him, slightly offended, “I don’t need your money, I really can take care of myself you know. In fact, I just got hired at-“

He reached forwards and grabbed your hand, shoving the bills into your palm, “For the cab, you idiot.” He said sarcastically.

Your face flushed as you looked down at the bills in your hand, “Oh, thanks.” You said quietly.

He nodded at you, adjusting the hood on his head, “Well, I should get going, gotta go rob another bank.” He said jokingly, making you laugh.

“Ah yes, and I do believe I have a midnight stroll scheduled down that back alleyway.” You replied, smiling cheekily at him.  

He laughed at your words, the deep chuckle warming your heart.

He stepped out from the overhang. You smiled happily as you noticed that in your short time of talking, the rain had almost stopped.

He gave you a slight nod before starting to walk away.

“Wait!” You said suddenly.

He turned back around, his eyes unreadable.

“I never said thank you. What’s your name?” You asked suddenly.

He turned away for a moment, the simple question causing seeming to have caught him off guard. “There’s no need for my name, as long as you’re safe, it’s okay.” He replied.

You frowned, shuffling your feet. “Well then, I shall call you my knight in…” You scanned his body, a small smile forming on your lips, “All-black armour.” You finished.

His eyes glowed at your comment, and he turned one last time to you. “I do believe that name suits me more than my actual one.” He said quietly. Suddenly, he was in front of you again, his hand fishing around the pockets of his jacket once more.

Your eyes widened as he produced a thin black face mask, brushing back your wet hair with his hands as he put it on your face, his soft fingertips grazing your ears.

“There.” He said, standing back. You stood there, eyes wide as he looked at you. “Like a handkerchief from a prince to a princess, I will give you my extra black face mask.” He said simply.

You smiled, your cheeks heating up as he nodded at you once more, before walking off into the night.

#bts #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #bts one shot #bts imagine #bts series #bts reaction #bts scenario #k pop #k pop one shot #min yoongi one shot #yoongi fanfic #suga #writing blog #series #writing

[nightships]

CS Secret Santa 2k17: Thawing Out

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to everyone, but ESPECIALLY to my CS Secret Santa, @delightfully-difficult-pirate! I hope you enjoy this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it, and it was so nice getting to know someone new in the fandom! Please excuse my formatting, I had to post mobile!

“You were right,” Elsa says, the hem of her gown swishing softly as she rounds the corner from the kitchen to the living room. “That machine wasn’t very hard to figure out.”

“Thank you.” Emma unearths a hand from her blankets to accept a steaming mug of coffee from her newest friend, setting it atop the quilt covering her knee. She’s long since traded the lounger chair for a seat on the couch, but her muscles are sore now that her nerves are thawing out.

She tries to say more, but just the breath draws up a cough. The cold had scratched rawness into her throat, drying and chilling all it could reach. The back of her hands still feel like ice as her body warms from her core to her extremities — even she can admit she’ll be out of commission for a day or two. Emma takes a swig from the mug to stifle her cough, and the next noise from her is one of surprise. Whatever Elsa’s made her, it does not taste like Swiss Miss.

“Did you put something in this?”

Elsa’s cheeks faintly color. “My sister and I love to drink hot cocoa when it’s cold. It’s not Arendelle chocolate, but I tried my best.”

“It’s incredible.” The smell wafting up from the mug is rich, like the whole thing is filled with melted chocolate. It’s ridiculous that Elsa looks unsure, even if she understands the apology behind the offering. Emma nearly manages to ask about the sister she’s looking for when Henry comes tumbling back down the stairs, pajama-clad and towing the quilt off his own bed.

“I promise you, kid, I have enough,” she chuckles, fighting back another cough.

“I brought it down for me,” he tells her, pretending it was his plan all along. He seems intent on sleeping at her side for the night, and she doesn’t quite have it in her to tell him no — especially since he’s not the only one.

Save for taking off his own boots and following her to the couch, Killian has yet to leave her side. At first he’d knelt next to the chair, watching nervously as her mother and father warmed her with blankets and an electric heater. He’d hung back quietly while the rest of them debated calling Doctor Whale, the quiet brush of his thumb against her hand the only reminder he was even in the room.

Slowly, feeling returned to her fingertips and toes, and somewhere along the way she’d ended up here — Killian’s arm around the three layers of blanket surrounding her shoulders and the rest of her family filling the room.

It was a little overwhelming, the way each of them kept trying to find ways to take care of her. If it wasn’t the mug of cocoa it was an extra layer of socks on her feet. If it wasn’t the socks, it was her father adjusting the angle of the electric heater every five minutes.

She can feel the rumble of another small laugh in his chest when her mother gets up in search of another pillow for her. It’s the least serious noise he’s made since they got back, which is another good sign, but it doesn’t lessen her own annoyance.

“Think Elsa would mind freezing anyone else?” she mutters, watching Henry wrestle his own quilt as he folds himself into the chair.

“It might not hurt to ask.” He turns and considers her, clearly glad that her family is all she has to complain about. There’s still a fair amount of relief in his eyes, but there’s tenderness too, a softness that matches the gentle weight of his hook brace on her knee. It remains long after her family manages to calm down and divert their focus toward settling Elsa up for the night.

Granny’s more than willing to take a new resident without causing a commotion. Her parents take her, along with a few hastily grabbed clothes from Emma’s room, and for a while everything in the loft is entirely quiet. Henry’s long since fallen victim to the combination of his own cocoa and blanket. The hiss from the electric heater and the quiet snores from her son are all she hears, and for the first time she almost feels warm. Emma lets herself daydream, thoughts wandering until a particularly amusing one tugs at the corner of her mouth.

“We’ve got to get you something with a higher collar.”

“Pardon, Swan?” Killian answers, sounding half-asleep himself. Without the flurry of her parents and Elsa around them he’s relaxed against the back of the couch. If it weren’t for all the black leather, he’d look perfectly at home.

“I know the cold doesn’t bother Elsa, but the rest of us have to buy coats.”

“I have a coat,” he insists, a little stubbornness working its way into his voice. He sounds like Henry does when she wakes him up for school, and suddenly it’s hard not to picture him here, especially knowing he traded away his own home to bring her back to hers.

“Does it actually keep you warm?” she counters.

“Neverland had a decidedly warm climate, love. Besides,” he shifts, fiddling with a lock of her hair that’s come free of the blankets, “I’m far from cold at the moment.”

A whisper of a smile makes its way across his mouth, and she can’t help but agree. She can feel the warmth in his thumb as it brushes her jawline, in his eyes as they follow the motion and linger on her lips, in the soft anticipation building in her stomach as she watches to see what he’ll do.

Her father picks that moment to walk through the door, and then its the warmth of embarrassment coloring the tips of Killian’s ears pink that she lingers on. Mary Margaret gently wakes Henry, nudging him up toward his room, but David’s concern is laser-focused on her.

“I think it might be best if we all got to sleep,” he says pointedly, nodding up the stairs. “Emma, I can help you up the stairs if you need it.”

Killian takes the hint, squeezing her shoulder before moving to stand. He reaches toward his boots, seemingly intent on putting them back on, and Mary Margaret nudges her husband in the small of his back, a not-so-subtle hint of her own.

“Killian,” David relents with a long-suffering sigh, as if they’ve been arguing about this on the entire trip back from dropping Elsa off, “We’ve got an extra pillow or two if you want the couch for tonight.”

“I’m sure Granny has a bed to spare, mate, but thank you.”

“It’s the least we can do,” Mary Margaret insists, laying her hand on David’s shoulder before he can accept Killian’s reply. “We insist.”

Killian turns to see how Emma feels, whether it’s too much, but he only catches her smirking in amusement at her father’s dubious expression. It’s the quiet joke between them, the shared connection she’s only beginning to let herself explore, that has her memorizing his answering nod for a moment when she’s alone in her bed.

“All right,” he answers softly, setting his boots back down. “If you insist.”

Snow, real snow, falls softly on the windowsill in the morning when Emma awakes. Soft voices filter up from the kitchen, along with the smell of honey and syrup, and she realizes she’s almost swelteringly warm. Someone — she’s not sure which of her parents are to blame — set another heavy blanket over her as she slept, and it’s more than done its job.

Her legs are sore when she swings them out to set her feet on the floor, but they hold steady, carrying her down the stairs. Henry and Killian are at work in the kitchen, the younger flipping a pair of pancakes on the griddle as the older frowns at the coffee machine.

“The light keeps flashing. It’s not pouring the water out.”

“You’ve got to push it down at the top, like this,” Henry instructs, leaving the spatula behind. He’s genuinely patient with the pirate, which is its own source of amusement as she moves closer.

“The bloody Ice Queen got it to work,” Killian grumbles, stepping away to give Henry room.

“Maybe she used her magic,” Henry suggests, pushing the mug beneath the dispenser just as hot water begins to pour out. He notices her when he turns back to look at his pancakes and lets out a loud groan of disappointment at her presence, even as he steps forward to hug her.

“Good morning to you too, kid,” she laughs, tucking her arm around his shoulder.

“We were gonna surprise you with breakfast,” he explains, sighing heavily. “You weren’t supposed to wake up yet.”

“It smells too good. I couldn’t stay asleep.” She catches Killian’s eye, taking in the softness a night’s sleep has laid on his face, and just like before, it feels right. He fits in perfectly amidst her mom’s kitchenware and her son’s bedhead.

“Morning, love,” he smiles, not even pretending he’s disappointed. “Are you hungry?”

“I guess I’d better be,” she replies, looking at the formidable stack of pancakes they’ve already made. “Weren’t you two tired?”

“I woke up and came down here and Killian was already awake. I knew he didn’t know where we kept the cereal or the bowls, but he asked me if I was hungry, too, and then he said we should make everyone breakfast!”

“It was the least I could do,” he admits, echoing her mom’s words from the night before. Killian reaches behind him and holds the steaming mug out for her, stepping closer so she doesn’t have to cross the kitchen to speak to him. As far as either of them can tell, David and Mary Margaret are still asleep across the loft.

“Thanks for helping him,” she tells him, slipping her hand over his rather than simply taking the mug from him. She leans in and presses a soft kiss to his cheek while Henry’s distracted with plating more pancakes, and then she tugs him over to sit at the countertop.

Henry insists they make breakfast a big affair, going so far as to lament the fact that Elsa couldn’t join them. If her father feels uncertain about having Killian at the counter with them, he doesn’t say a word. It’s about the closest thing to normal that they’ve ever had in Storybrooke. With her family surrounding her and Killian’s foot nudging hers every so often, she eats slowly, letting herself hope it’ll last.

For the first time in a while, she has a good feeling that it will.

#Cs secret Santa #csss17 #cs ff #cs fic #captain swan #jess writes cs #ouat #this is VERY fluffy and so small and insulated #I hope it has all the things you were wishing for!

[simonxriley]

Prompt thingy: 2. “TOUCH ME WITH YOUR COLD FEET ONE MORE TIME!!!” any pairing!

Oh yay, i got one, i wasn’t expecting to tbh so thank you :) I’m gonna do Ghost/Roach since out of all my ships, i feel like this is something Roach would do lol 

A/N: Ghost/Roach are already a couple so it’s obviously an m/m pairing.

Ghost and Roach were huddled in bed with a million blankets. Their heater decided to break in the middle of a very cruel winter. Ghost who was the more handy person of the two, so he tried to fix, eventually failing to do so. Roach thought it was best to call the repair man before Ghost could break it some more. Now they were both in their bed covered in about 5 layers of clothes and about every blanket they owned.

“So when is the bloody repair man coming? I don’t think I can live like this anymore.” Ghost asked

“Simon, it’s only been 5 hours and uh unfortunately he won’t be here until tomorrow afternoon.”  

“Tomorrow? Why can’t the wanker come today?”

“Cause he’s most likely busy. We’re not the only ones having issues you know?”

“I don’t care. I wish to be warm” Ghost said while pulling another 2 blankets around him.

“So do I Simon, but we have to be patient. We only have to deal with this today” Gary gave him a reassuring smile which didn’t seem to help poor freezing Simon.

They haven’t been living in this house for long, just about a year. After the incident with Shepherd, they decided it was time to retire. They ended up buying a 2 bedroom house in Hereford. The extra bedroom was for ‘guests’ a.k.a Soap every time he was on leave. The house was no where perfect, it needed a lot of work and updating but it was home to them. 

Once night came and they decided to go to bed…well Gary decided to go to bed while Simon complained, saying it was too cold to sleep. The only reason Simon even got in bed was because Gary said they could cuddle and their body heat would keep them warm. Every thing was going fine until Gary decided to take off his socks. 

“What….what are you doing? Shouldn’t you keep those on? Your feet are gonna freeze.” Simon asked

“You know I can’t sleep with socks on” Gary said

“I think you can make an acception, for tonight at least.”

“Nope, unless you want me to grumpy tomorrow,” Gary stated

“Ugh fine, just make sure your feet don’t touch me. I don’t need frost bite because of you.” For a bad-ass lieutenant he sure did hate the cold.

The night was going good, Simon stopped complaining about the cold since he was now warm enough…he even fell asleep. Gary on the other hand was still awake, he thought it was a good idea to read a book to pass the time or until he became tired enough to actually fall asleep. That was until Simon moved in his sleep and ended up moving his pant leg up some, Gary noticed and put his book down. What better way to pass the time than to annoying your boyfriend? So Gary decided to act like he was getting comfortable and ‘accidentally’ brushed his very cold feet over Simon’s exposed skin. This woke Simon up automatically, he didn’t move though, knowing what Gary was up too. Luckily he wasn’t facing him or this wouldn’t have worked. Simon put up with Gary for about 5 more minutes before he started to freeze again. Gary on the other hand still didn’t know Simon was awake so he went for another ‘round’ until he heard…..

“GARY I SWEAR TO GOD …TOUCH ME WITH YOUR COLD FEET ONE MORE TIME I’M SLEEPING IN THE GUEST ROOM.” Simon yelled.

“I..I didn’t think you were up, I was just getting comfortable gees” Gary said

Turning to look at Gary

“No, no you weren’t since you’ve been pulling this shit for 5 mins” Simon stated, clearly annoyed by his boyfriend antics.

“Oh, so you were awake” Gary couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Yes, yes I was.” 

“Fine I’m sorry.” Gary said.

“I might forgive you if you would put some bloody socks on and come to bed” 

Grabbing his socks he threw on the floor and putting them on before he cuddle up next to Simon.

“Better?” Gary asked

“Yes, now come here.” Simon said while throwing his arms around Gary and they both drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

#anonymous #i actually had fun with this #minus when my internet decided to act up #simon ghost riley #gary roach sanderson #simon riley #gary sanderson #call of duty

[the-monster-in-your-wardrobe]

Are you so scared of me?

(This takes place towards the end of season 1)

Hei had known that this would happen one day, that section 4 would find a way, just not so soon. And to be honest he had been waiting for it, being weary of it all.

It was just too soon. There was still unfinished business, what with Amber and the recent developments at the gate. Not that he cared about any of that, but Amber had posed a chance to find out about Bai. About what had really happened in South America.

Now he would probably never know.

(***)

Misaki Kirihara was fuming. The plan had been destined to fail, of course, but nobody had listened to her.

“Are you so scared of me, officer?”

She could still hear his voice, coldly mocking their efforts, his speech slurred from the heavy sedatives.

Slamming the gears of her car harder than necessary she sped away from her boss’s office and towards home. She felt her anger rise anew, as she drove down the same route the transport would have taken.

Not all of the plan had been bad of course. They had been in a real advantage for the first time, having a powerful contractor on their side. Why this strange woman had offered her service to the Bureau was still a mystery to Misaki, but her immense powers had finally given her team an opportunity to try and get a hand on other contractors. Especially BK-201.

Misaki huffed.

It could have been so easy, their contractor holding him in place with her ability to change the gravity as she wanted, making it easy to inject the sedative that had been developed by some scientists at the gate. The dose had been heavy enough to bring down an elephant, some part of it even repressing his abilities.

Thinking back the easiness of it had probably been what made the plan fail in the end. As if nobody would notice the huge convoy of police cars heading straight to the complex where section 4 intended to detain BK-201.

Her boss had been adamant to her suggestions, about keeping the team small, making the transport in silence, overall just keeping the whole affair as secretive as possible. The syndicate would find out soon enough as it was.

It had probably been as good as a challenge to the syndicate, parading through the city like that, and naturally they had taken it.

The convoy had been reduced to a confused mess of battered car wrecks by one of those huge trucks crashing right through their midst, about two blocks from where Misaki lived. The car in which they had been transporting BK-201 had been turned upside down and dented so badly they couldn’t even reach the bodies of the two policemen sitting in the front, who had died in the crash, the one in the back being stuck between his seat and the deformed door and moaning in pain.

By the time she had reached the car BK-201 had vanished into the night, leaving only his mask behind.

The area where the crash had happened was still cordoned off, making it almost impossible for Misaki to find a parking spot that wasn’t miles away from her home. The night was freezingly cold and she snuggled deeper into her warm coat as she walked down the small side street. Her anger had cooled somewhat and she let her thoughts wander to the warm bath she would take before finally going to bed.

A clattering sound from a narrow sideway made her look up, but it was just two cats fighting between some containers.

She was about to turn away when something caught her eye. Something that looked like legs sticking out from behind one of the containers.

Quietly drawing her gun she carefully made her way down the alleyway, keeping as much distance as possible from the container as she walked around, aiming her gun at whoever those legs belonged to.

Someone was sitting there, slumped against the container, black coat making him almost invisible in the dark corner, face obscured by a mass of dark unruly hair.

Her stomach dropping she bent down to take a closer look.

Looking back she felt like she had actually known for a long time. Still it made her breath hitch for a moment.

There, laying right before her was BK-201. It was Li.

Forcing herself to draw a breath, her mind started racing. What was she supposed to do? Probably call her team for help.

She crouched down instead, looking him over.

There was a huge gash on his left thigh, the blood soaking his pants had already frozen it to his leg. Probably had cut himself on the broken car window.

Otherwise he looked surprisingly whole, his lower lip being split, but nothing else of consequence.

Keeping her gun aimed at his chest she carefully reached out to feel his pulse.

He drew a surprised breath at the sudden contact and opened his eyes, blinking slowly, looking to be still dazed from the drugs.

The faintest spark of recognition flashed in his clouded eyes as they met hers.

“Come to finish me off?”, he said heavily, his lips barely moving.

He weakly tried to push himself into a more upright position.

“Go on then”, he murmured “do it!”

It was obvious he was barely keeping his eyes open.

Misaki swallowed hard. She couldn’t bring herself to call her team and turn him in. Maybe she would have done it had he been someone else, but this was Li, kind and gentle Li, who had cheered her up after November 11 had died and who had always seemed like he could never harm a fly.

Inwardly scolding herself she pushed her gun back into it’s holster. This was probably the biggest mistake she was ever going to make.

“Do you think you can walk?”

For a long moment he just stared. Then he slowly nodded.

“Come on then. It’s not far, I’ll help you.”

Moving to his left side she grabbed his wrist and, noticing how cold he was, carefully draped his arm over her shoulders.

While he clumsily tried to get his legs under himself she started to slowly pull him upward, the movement causing his black coat to fall open and reveal the long piece of glass jutting from his right shoulder.

Again swallowing hard, she readjusted her grip on him and, drawing a deep breath, started walking, or rather dragging him down the alleyway towards her home.

Somehow they managed the two blocks to her house and the four storeys of the fire escape, evading all security cameras on the way to her flat. By the time they got there Misaki was drenched in sweat her shoulders hurting from the dead weight of Li’s body.

He had barely been able to stay upright, his right arm dangling useless as he let himself be dragged along. How he had managed to get as far as to where she had found him Misaki couldn’t start to imagine.

Kicking the door shut behind them she maneuvered him onto the mat in her living room she had used for her morning yoga session.

In the light he looked a lot worse than he had down in the dark alley. His face was very pale, the dried blood on his forehead standing out in harsh contrast, and his lips had turned blue already.

Moving quickly around her flat Misaki started grabbing clean towels, some bandages she had found in her bathroom cabinet, her portable heater and a few other things.

Setting the heater up close she knelt back down next to him and carefully laid a hand on his cheek, causing him to open his eyes again.

“I need you to sit up for a moment.”, she said.

With Misaki’s help he managed to push himself up with his healthy arm. Moving around him she carefully removed his coat, making him hiss when it brushed the shard in his right shoulder.

Helping him back down, she removed her own coat an rolled up her sleeves. There was no way to remove his tight black shirt without causing him a lot of pain.

“Just cut it off.”, he uttered laboriously.

Looking up she saw his gaze following her every move, his eyes looking less foggy by now.

Nodding slowly she grabbed her kitchen scissors and started cutting through the fabric her fingers brushing lightly over his cold skin

When she had removed his shirt and the top underneath it she took a closer look at the shard protruding from right underneath his collarbone. There was no telling how deep it went or if it had damaged something vital. She would just have to pull it out and hope for the best.

Wrapping a towel around her hand as to not cut herself she cautiously took hold of it, making him grind his teeth in pain.

“Ready?”

“Just do it!”, he snarled between clenched teeth.

Without further hesitation she pulled.

A strangled sound escaped his lips, his eyes screwed shut, the muscles in his neck bulging.

For a moment Misaki could see the white of his collarbone, before the blood started flowing in and she hastily pressed another towel down on it, anxiously looking up.

His face had gone ashen and he was panting hard.

Her fingers shaking slightly, she bent down to put a pressure bandage on the wound.

When she had finished, Li had calmed down a little, his face looking more relaxed and his breathing going more even.

Moving down she started cleaning the cut on his thigh, the blood having thawed by now, and wrapped it up.

Wetting another towel she went back up to his head and froze when she found his dark eyes watching her intently.

“Why are you doing this?”, he asked quietly.

Not knowing what to answer she looked away.

“I don’t know.”, she finally whispered, more to herself.

When she looked up again he had closed his eyes, his breathing becoming more and more even.

Brushing his dark hair aside, she calmly cleaned his face, pausing for a second before dabbing at his split lip almost tenderly.

He sighed softly in his sleep making her smile for the first time this day. She grabbed a blanket and in a sudden urge to be close she lay down beside him, spreading it over the both of them.

What am I doing?, she thought before closing her eyes and wrapping an arm around his chest. Resting her head on his good shoulder she slowly drifted off. When she woke up the next morning he was gone.

He had even taken the bloody towels with him, leaving no trace of ever having been here, except for his lingering scent on the blanket he had wrapped her in.

Smiling sadly to herself she pulled it closer, shutting her eyes again, wanting nothing more than to have him back next to her.

How in the world could this have happened?

_____________________________

Hey guys, there is a part 2 now, you can read it here:

http://the-monster-in-your-wardrobe.tumblr.com/post/166112214003/are-you-so-scared-of-me-pt2

#this is the first thing i wrote in years #and it's for a dead fandom #fml #i love this anime so much #and this has been going around in my head for so long #plus i have a weakness for whump #so pls be gentle #i hope you guys like it #darker than black #dtb #hei #misaki kirihara #bk-201 #shengshun li #oneshot #i wrote this on my phone #long post #fic

[dralentines-day]

Gift #8, @queenofthyme

My dear, here is the king to match your queen. @queenofthyme , enjoy your Dralentine’s gift!

Our gifter says: 

“I really hope you enjoy this story! The style of writing isn't my usual, so I hope it turned out okay, but I've been dying to try out repairman!Harry for some time now. Happy dralentines~~”

The Repairman - Draco's hot water isn't working, and apparently neither is his love life. Thankfully, the repair man can fix that. 5k. 

Tags: smut, top!Draco.

Draco turned the knob on the faucet harshly and waited for what he knew wouldn’t come: hot water. He let the water that had come out run for a moment before sticking his hand into it, hoping against hope that maybe, just maybe today, it would magically be- cold as fuck. With a groan he pulled his hand back and steeled himself to enter the arctic waters that constituted as his shower. It took most of his will power not to jump right back out. He was able to take his shower in record time as the cold water did nothing for his morning wank, but it did work wonders on waking him up.

When he strolled whistling into work an hour later, Pansy eyed him with distaste. “Still no hot water?”

“The frozen tundra that you call a heart is warmer,” Draco replied.

Pansy smirked at the insult. “And you haven’t called a repair man because?”

“Because if I catch my death from the cold, you will have to live the rest of your life knowing you could've prevented my untimely demise.” Draco took his place behind the desk and started assembling his tools for the day.

“Draco, I’ve told you my shower is otherwise….engaged most mornings.”

“It’s quite alright Pansy, I understand a sub-standard fuck from Blaise first thing is the only thing getting you through the day.”

“I would say it’s above average personally,” Pansy replied watching him carefully take down his current project, an antique music box.

“Anything involving a vagina is sub-standard,” he said without looking up.

Pansy let out a short laugh. “Agree to disagree.” She finally turned to her own work, restoring an old wizard’s portrait, a delicate and time consuming job. She knew as soon as both she and Draco really began to get into their tasks for the day chit-chat would be kept to a minimum. “You know, you are a repair man, why can’t you fix it?”

“Because for the 80th time, I can repair things, magical things not pipes.”

“Pipes are things.”

“Oh, you stup-“ Draco’s reply was cut short when a newspaper hit him in the face. “Pansy!”

“Look at the ad pages.”

Draco opened the paper and found the ad pages. “If you can draw this snitch, a career in-“

“Not there, you nitwit. Bottom left,” she shot him an unimpressed look over her shoulder.

“Bottom left? Oh, ‘House going haywire? Appliances not working? Kitchen need an update? Plumbing problems? Owl The Repairman, specializing in both Wizarding and Muggle homes, for a consultation and quote.’” Draco set the paper down. “The Repairman? How unoriginal.”

“You don't need to be original to fix a toilet, Draco,” Pansy replied.

“True. Well, I suppose it’s worth a shot.” Draco took out a piece of parchment and scribbled off a missive to The Repairman. He received a reply around noon that stated the repairman could visit either that day or the next. Already far too involved with his days project, he chose the latter. “Pansy, I’m not sure when I’ll be in tomorrow; the repairman will be coming round.”

“Hmmm,” was the only reply he got, but Draco hardly took notice of that, his mind already engrossed in the next facet of the music box. They took a break for lunch around one, and finished up the day in near silence, save for the muggle radio playing 90s pop hits.

As it was Thursday and custom, Pansy and Draco headed to a bistro just on the outskirts of Diagon Alley to meet Blaise. Upon their arrival Blaise kissed them both on the cheek, causing Draco to glare and rub away the kiss dramatically while his two friends smirked.

“So,” Blaise said after they had ordered. “Fuck anyone lately?”

“Not even my own right hand,” Draco answered swirling his wine.

“Tragic. Really, not even a solo show?”

“His hot water still isn’t working so he can’t have his morning wank,” Pansy supplied.

Draco shot her a look. “I told you that in a state of duress.”

“Draco, I lived with you for literally all of your teenage years, I’m well aware of your masturbatory habits.” Blaise rolled his eyes and took a sip of his firewhiskey.

“I was in a state of duress,” Draco replied.

“And have been for the past eight years?”

“The world is in shambles, Pansy.”

“In any case, are you going to get your water sorted?” Blaise cut in.

“A repairman will be coming round tomorrow.”

“Oh, Draco I was just thinking,” Pansy began, but paused when her companions raised their brows at each other. “Oh, do shut up both of you. Anyway, as I was saying, I was thinking, I was watching this thing on the Muggle internet, and Draco, you wouldn’t believe it! A man needed his dryer serviced, and the repairman came over, and wouldn't you know it, the next thing the man was getting serviced!”

“Pansy! Why are you watching Muggle porn!” Draco whisper shouted.

“Yeah, and why are you watching it without me?” Blaise crossed his arms.

“Oh, I just stumbled upon it,” Pansy waved her hand. “Anyway, what if that happens to you Draco? You could use a good servicing. It’s been what, two? three? years since your last…well anything really.”

“Jesus, Pans, can you not?” Draco knocked his wine back and signaled for another.

“All I’m saying is that you’ve got to get back out there. You cannot expect to live a life of celibacy just because Theodore bloody Nott was a useless bastard.”

“Pansy,” Blaise began as he watched Draco’s face harden.

“I am not living a life of celibacy because of that prick,” Draco ground out. “I just don’t simply care to muck around anymore, alright? Just because you two have a perfect little life with each other and can’t see beyond your own noses doesn’t mean the rest of us are suffering. I’m fine.” Draco gulped the fresh glass of wine that had appeared on the table in one go, and stood. “I do not have the energy for this, I’ll see you later.”

“Draco, wait,” Blaise called out, but he was already striding through the bistro to the door. He apparated directly into his bedroom and flung himself face down on his bed. When his face became too hot with his own breath he rolled over.

“Why the fuck can’t my friends mind their own fucking business?” He asked his ceiling. “What if I want to be alone? Would that be so bad?” He sighed, puffing the hair from his forehead. “Yeah,” he whispered. “It really would.” Too emotionally drained from his dramatic exit, and subsequent reflection, Draco forwent a proper teeth brushing and face washing for a charm. He took off his clothes without moving from the bed and threw them on the floor. He set an alarm for the next day, though he knew he’d be well awake before it went off, and spelled off the lights.

In the quiet of his room, Draco tried not to think about Theodore Nott, blonde women, and bitter laughter. He failed miserably.

~

“Just a second!” Draco called, heading for the door. He checked his hair in the mirror by the door and upon finding nothing wrong, he opened it, a greeting dying on his lips as he saw the man on the other side.

“Hi, Malfoy,” Harry Potter greeted, as if he greeted Draco Malfoy everyday.

“What are you doing here?”

“You owled me yesterday, remember?” Harry lifted the corners of his mouth and titled his head.

“You’re The Repairman?” Draco said trying to keep the disbelief out of his voice.

“I am,” Harry said. “Are you going to let me in or…?” he said after a few moments of silence.

“Yes, come in, then,” Draco said stepping inside. Harry passed and Draco caught a whiff of cinnamon and pine. He suddenly felt a vey strong urge to gather Harry to him and smell his hair.

“So, you said your hot water isn’t working?” Harry said from the other room. Draco hurried to catch up. “Just in the bathroom or everywhere?” Draco found him standing the middle of the sitting room.

“Everywhere, but Potter, stop,” Draco commanded as Harry started to exit the room.

“What?”

“What do you mean ‘what?’ What do you think I mean?”

“What?”

“You know what!”

“No, I don’t know what ‘what’ is what.”

“Potter!”

“Malfoy!”

“What!”

“I wish you’d tell me!” Harry was laughing now and Draco could feel his cheeks heating with frustration, but suddenly he was laughing too.

“Just sit down, Potter,” Draco said once his voice was normal. Harry sat down, but unexpectedly right next to Draco, a small smile on his lips. He was looking so intently at Draco, Draco couldn’t help but utter, “What?”

Harry laughed again and Draco shook his head. “Nothing,” Harry responded. “I’m just glad it’s still like this.”

“What is still like this?” Draco furrowed his brows.

“It doesn’t matter,” Harry said. To Draco it did matter, it mattered immensely and before Draco could say something to that effect that didn’t actually reveal how much it mattered, Harry seemed to hear him all the same. “I just mean, I’m glad you and I are still like this. Not five minutes in a room together and we’re already bickering.”

Draco looked at Harry’s beaming face and said slowly, “Yes, I suppose, but it feels…different.”

“Yeah, you’re right. But, it’s not really a bad different is it?” Harry asked.

“No.” Draco really didn't know what was happening. One minute Harry Potter was here to fix his hot water and the next they were having a vaguely existential conversation. Draco decided that he didn’t in fact want to know what ‘what’ was and opted for sighing and standing. “What do you need to see? The faucets or…?”

“Where’s your hot water heater? This is a renovated flat, yes? It should be with your washer and dryer if you’ve got one.”

“Yes,” Draco answered and led him to laundry room.

Upon opening the door it was clear to Harry that the room had never been used. “I take it you don’t do much laundry.”

“That’s what house elves are for.” The statement was punctuated by an eye roll.

“You have house elves?” Harry looked around as if one would pop up any moment.

“Not here, they’re at the manor. Why?”

“Nothing,” Harry said. “It’s just the same-“

“But different,” Draco repeated. “Not that I’m not enjoying this little chat about how my laundry is done, but do you think you could tell me what’s wrong with my hot water?”

Harry was already fussing with the water tank as Draco finished his question. “Sure thing, Malfoy, just let me have a look. I’m not a wizard, you know.”

“I always knew you had inferior magical capabilities but I wouldn’t stoop to say you aren't a wizard.”

“It’s an expression Malfoy,” Harry said without looking up and to demonstrate that he waved his hand towards Draco, causing the door behind him to slam shut. “Still very much more powerful than…well most, really.”

“You’ve always been so full of yourself, haven't you?”

“Yes, but I’d much rather be full of some else.”

“What?” Draco squawked, bracing himself on the dusty washing machine.

“It seems your pipes are all backed up,” Harry said rising, ignoring the confusingly panicked look on Draco’s face.  

“Excuse me?” Draco could not believe the nerve of Harry, to say such things to him in his own home.

“I mean there’s something in the pipes causing the hot water not to flow, so I’ll have to take a closer look, but I’l need some help.” Once Draco realized Harry was not talking about his own dry spell, and the actual pipes he let out a large puff of air. “You don’t mind do you?” Harry said reaching for his pocket.

“Mind what? You can’t expect me to help.”

“Of course not, you’d probably do more harm than good.”

“I’ll have you know I could definitely help! I am something of a repairman myself.”

“Then why didn’t you just fix it yourself?” Harry smirked.

“Because I can fix things for the love of Merlin, not pipes. I’m just saying that I’m good with my hands.”

Harry looked Draco up and down and said, “Well, that remains to be seen.” Before Draco had a chance to respond to that Harry continued. “But, I meant do you mind snakes?”

“What?” Draco’s brows knitted together. “No, of course not, I was a Slytherin, Potter. But why in the world-“ Draco trailed off when Harry withdrew a tiny green snake from his pocket and began to speak to it in parseltongue. Draco watched eyes wide as the snake slithered down Harry’s too-tight-to-be-a-repairman jeans and into the piping.

“Go ahead and ask, I know you want to,” Harry said walking past Draco to the door, Draco turned and followed Harry out, mildly annoyed with how comfortable Harry was in his home and how much Draco found he didn’t mind.

“Okay, how in the world did you get Granger to let you become a repair man?”

Harry started and let out a loud laugh as they entered the sitting room. “That is not the question people usually ask first,” Harry said plopping down on the couch. Draco sat down next to him delicately.

“Oh? What is then?”

“Usually it’s ‘why are you a repairman?’ first.”

“And second?”

“Why the fuck do you have a snake?’ or just general screaming.” Draco laughed at that.

“Well it’s quite easy to see why you’d become a repair man. Physical labour suits you, plus you’d get to choose your hours, your clients, and work mostly alone.” Harry gave him a look he couldn’t quite decipher. “And the snakes are obvious, really. They can go where you can’t.”

“Yeah,” Harry said softly, that look still on his face. “So, why are you a repair man, then?”

“I’m not a repair man really,” Draco clarified, crossing his arms. “I restore things.”

“What kind of things?”

“Modern sport scars, Potter, what do you think? Magical things.”

“How did you come to do that?”

Draco looked pointedly away and said with as much strength as he could muster, “ I found I had knack for it.”

“Oh,” Harry said softly.

“Yes, ‘oh’,” Draco replied.

“Do you work alone?” Harry asked after a moment.

“No, Pansy and I have a shop together. She does paintings, I do trinkets and the like.”

“Oh,” Harry’s eyes lit up and he leaned into Draco. “I think I’ve heard of it. D&P Repairs and Restorations? That’s you, right?”

“Yes, that’s me. And Pansy, of course.”

“Do you like it?” Harry asked, his voice seeping earnest.

“Immensely,” Draco said immediately and then regretted it. Why was he telling Harry all of these things? It’s not as if they were friends. They hadn’t even really seen each other in the last five years at least. Even then, the extent of the exchange had been each other’s names.

“I’m really glad.” Harry’s voice slid through Draco’s thoughts.

“Do you like your job?” Draco asked before he could help himself.

“For now,” Harry answered.

“This is abnormal,” Draco said abruptly.

“What is?”

“Us. Talking. With words. And neither of us is about to hex or punch each other. It’s unnerving. I mean, I don’t think I’ve even insulted you once since you’ve been here.”

Harry leaned back a bit into the couch and grinned. “If you insult me now would that make you feel better?”

“That’s not the point, Potter,” Draco continued. “It’s the fundamental nature of the whole thing. We’re Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter. We’re supposed to fight. We aren’t supposed to bicker like old women, or sit on my couch spilling our darkest secrets.”

“Saying you enjoy your job is your darkest secret? Your life sure has gotten boring since Hogwarts.”

“I’m a Malfoy, Potter. Any admission of emotion is a dark secret.” Draco rolled his eyes.

“If it helps, I’m great at keeping secrets,” Harry supplied.

“Not really, Potter,” Draco ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

“Hey, it’s not a big deal,” Harry said, reaching up to stop Draco from pulling on his hair. “Look, I get why you’re upset. It’s like I said before, the same, but different. But, you thought things between you and me had a certain concreteness, and now…now things don’t seem so solid and you don’t know what to do with it.”

Draco stood swiftly and glared at Harry, “I do not recall asking you to analyze me, Potter, you’re nothing but a glorified plumber; you are here to fix my pipes and nothing more.” Draco made his way to the door and threw over his shoulder, “I think it’s time for you to go, I trust you can collect your snake and see yourself out.” Draco turned and strode from the room.

In the safety of his bedroom Draco let out a choked gasp and leaned against the door. He was well aware that he had over-reacted. The fact that he had reacted at all was frustrating. Emotion was reversed for three people: his mother, Pansy, and Blaise. He made his way to his bed and sat down, facing away from the door. He sat there replaying the days events in his head and trying to make some sense of them. “That stupid fucking scarhead,” Draco said to himself. “Why does he always make me react without thinking?”

“Probably because you do the same thing to me.” Draco jumped and spun towards the door where he found Harry standing uncertainly, the small green snake wrapped around his forearm. “I’m sorry, it’s just Helga here found the block, and I was able to fix it, and I just wanted to tell you, and I know I should have probably knocked but, I heard you say ‘stupid fucking scarhead’ so I thought you heard me and then when I opened the door-“

“Potter!” Draco shouted and Harry stopped talking. “How much do I owe you?”

“Malfoy-” Harry said stepping further into the room.

“How much?” Draco said as he walked to the other side of the bed opening the drawer where he’d thrown his money much the night before. As he took the pouch out, a strip of paper that had been barely clinging to it fluttered to he ground before he could catch it. Harry, eager to show Draco how sorry he was, immediately reached for the paper. “Potter, no!” Draco snatched the paper back as quickly as he could but the look on Harry’s face too him it was too late.

“I-I’m sorry, I just-”

“Yes, I know,” Draco said through clenched teeth. He placed the strip of photos back into his drawer as casually as he could and looked Harry straight in the eye. “Out with it, then.”

“He’s a bellend.” Draco snorted a laugh and seemed to to deflate a bit. He sat on the bed and Harry sat next to him. “Really, I don’t know what happened but anyone who’d let go of the happiness in those photos is an idiot.”

Draco took the strip of photos out and looked at them. “I suppose we’re just going to have to have the heart felt conversation aren’t we? How predictable.” He didn’t look at Harry.

“Looks that way,” Harry said and after a pause, “Listen, Malfoy, about earlier…it’s just the same thing happened to me. There were things I thought I could always count on to stay the same, things that I wouldn’t have to worry about adjusting to. Water is wet, the ground is beneath me, and Draco Malfoy and I will fight. But then, things started to change, sometimes water was ice, and the ground was above me, and if those thing can change maybe we don’t have to fight.”

Draco said nothing for a long moment. “I don’t have a lot of truly happy memories from 14 on. This day this is one of them. He took me to this Muggle amusement park, and God it was sickeningly cute. We took these photos in one of those booths just after getting off this death trap called a coaster. And even though he is an utter cunt, I still keep these to remind me that, I can be this happy. I want to be this happy.”

“Why aren’t you?”

“I don’t know.” Draco put the photos back. “I wish I did.”

“Do you want to try?” Draco slowly turned his head to face Harry fully. “I mean, do you want to try, with me?”

“I know what you mean.”

“Oh, then why aren't you saying anything?”

“I’m trying to figure out what the fuck I did that would cause such a clear and specific hallucination.”

“Is that a no?” Harry asked fidgeting his fingers.

“No.”

“Are you saying no, it’s not a no or no, no?”

“What? No.”

“No?” Harry’s face scrunched up in disappointment.

“Merlin, no, Potter,” Draco said before grabbing the back of Harry’s neck and pulling him into a kiss. Harry responded immediately and reached up to grab Draco’s arms. After a moment, they pulled apart. “I’ll try. With you,” he clarified.

Harry kissed him again and together the fell back onto the bed. “It would probably be wise to take things slowly,” Draco said between kisses.

“When have we ever done anything wise?” Harry answered, kissing his way down Draco’s jaw.

“A rather convincing argument you make, Potter,” Draco said, suppressing a moan.

Harry sat up and took his glasses off, tossing them on the bed side table. Draco reached up and slipped his hands under Harry’s shirt, feeling soft muscle beneath surprisingly almost hairless flesh, save for a defined happy trail. Harry began to unbutton Draco’s shirt as Draco continued to caress him.

“I seem to recall you saying that you were quite good with your hands,”  Harry teased.

“Would you like to test it out?” Draco reached for Harry’s groin and began palming his rapidly hardening cock through his tight jeans. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Harry merely moaned in response and shoved his head into the crook of Draco’s neck and began to nip at the skin there. “Don’t you think we ought to get rid of these clothes?”

Harry nodded, lifted his hand, and waved it around them. Their clothes, plus Draco’s duvet cover disappeared. “Potter!”

“Sorry,” Harry said sheepishly, raising his head to look at Draco. “I can over do it if I’m not paying attention.”

“I liked that duvet cover, you arse,” Draco said biting at Harry’s now exposed peck.

“It’s only on the floor,” Harry answered, cradling Draco’s head.

“Where it’s getting wrinkled,” Draco chided, before swiping his tongue over Harry’s nipple. Harry’s reply was lost in a throaty groan. Draco continued to lavish attention to Harry’s chest with his mouth, his hands gliding over Harry’s hips until suddenly, Harry flipped them and straddled Draco’s waist.

“You know, I’m getting a little tired of your teasing, Malfoy,” Harry said, punctuating the thought with a thrust. their cocks sliding together with hot friction. Draco groaned and grabbed Harry’s hips to steady himself. “And I can’t say that you’ve proved your worth as a repairman.” Harry began to slowly circle his hip, causing Draco’s grip to tighten.

Draco leered up at Harry, “I can fix that.” His hands reached back and grabbed the globes of Harry’s ass and give them a squeeze before spreading them apart and sliding a finger down the crack with almost ghostly pressure. When Harry let out a moan, Draco pulled his hand back and gave his ass a harsh smack. Harry yelped, and Draco let his finger move further down, finding Harry’s hole. His finger circled the entrance before pulling away.

“What the fuck, Malfoy?” Harry said out of breath.

“Relax, Potter, you’re not the only one that can do some wandless magic.” The finger was back at Harry’s entrance, this time coated in lube. Draco traced his finger along the rim before plunging inside without warning.

“Oh my God,” Harry groaned leaning forward so he was laying atop Draco completely.

“I rather like the sound of that,” Draco answered, slowly pumping his finger in and out. Harry began to quiver atop him, as he curled his finger and continually brushed just before that sensitive spot in Harry, never quite applying enough pressure for Harry’s liking.

“You’re such a fucking prick,” Harry whined.

“Not yet I’m not,” Draco replied and added another finger. Harry let out a growl and sucked Draco’s ear into his mouth. Draco drew in a sharp breath at the unexpected action. He heard Harry chuckled as he traced the shell of Draco’s ear and Draco shoved his fingers in deep, directly onto Harry’s prostate.

“Fuck!” Harry shouted, his whole body tensing. Draco withdrew his fingers and repeated the motion until Harry was reduced to whimpers.

“Have I proved myself to be an adequate repairman yet?” Draco smirked.

“Yes,” Harry hissed. “But, I think I’ve had enough of your fingers don’t you?” With that, Harry reached back and pulled Draco’s hands from his ass. He then began to stroke Draco’s cock, moving his own hips just enough to allow it to press against his crack. Draco put his hands on Harry’s hips, and kneaded his thumbs into the skin, urging him backwards.

Finally, Harry drew himself up and lowered himself slowly onto Draco’s dick, grunting the whole way. Once he was fully seated, Draco turned his attention to the cock in front of him. “What’s the matter, Potter?” Draco asked, idly stroking it. “A bit too big for you?” he teased.

Harry’s eyes hardened. “You wish.” He raised himself and slammed backdown, causing them both to throw their heads back in pleasure. They soon built up a steady rhythm, Harry riding Draco so hard, his ass clapped against Draco’s thighs. Draco rolled his hips as Harry came down, ensuring that he would hit Harry’s prostate as he continued to stroke his cock with as much rhythm as he could.

“Is that the best you’ve got, Potter?” Draco puffed out, as he was nearing orgasm.

“I don’t think you could handle my best,” Harry answered, head bent in exertion.

Draco began to jerk Harry faster, removing his other hand from Harry’s hip to grab his chin harshly. “I can handle anything the likes of you can throw at me, Potter,” he rasped.

Harry smirked and immediately arched his back so he could reach behind him and cup Draco’s balls. He fondled them roughly, and Draco tightened his grip on Harry’s chin, pulling him down for a brusque kiss, giving Harry’s cock a hard tug as he did so. A moment later Harry pulled away and ground out, “Fuck Malfoy, I’m gonna come,”

Draco kept as much a steady hand on Harry’s dick as he could and placed his hand back onto Harry’s hips for support. “Well, go on, do it then,” Draco said. “Come on, Potter. Don’t you want to come all over me?”

“Fuck, yes. I want to come so hard it gets all over your stupid fucking face.” Harry was riding him with abandon now, Draco’s balls completely forgotten, instead Harry was using his chest as leverage. Draco bent his knees to allow Harry to go deeper.

“You could never,” Draco goaded, both hands on Harry’s hips now helping him slam down. “Your cum isn’t fit for my face. But isn’t it a pretty picture? Your cum spread across my cheeks? Dripping from my lips? My tongue?”

“Fuck!” Harry shouted, and he was coming, the first streams hitting Draco square in the mouth. “Fucking fuck!” Harry said as he looked down at Draco, biting a cum covered lip, and his cock began to spasm again.

Draco, with his knees bent, continued to guide Harry’s hips onto his own dick but couldn’t hold out much longer. When Harry leaned forward and using his tongue, swiped the cum from Draco’s lips, Draco lost control and came deep inside of Harry with a final thrust.

Harry fell forward, Draco’s cock still twitching inside him, and wrapped his arms around Draco’s head. They lay like that for a few minutes, catching their breaths and relishing in the after glow. Finally, Draco slipped out, but Harry stayed atop of him.

“Why did you say yes?” Harry asked directly into his ear.

“You really are quite dense, aren't you?” Draco chuckled.

“No, it’s just I really didn’t expect you to say yes.” Harry sat up and looked down at him.

“Did you not want me to?” Draco said his voice pitching higher.

“No!”

“No?”

“No, I wanted you to say yes!” Harry said quickly. “I was just surprised that you did.”

“Yes, I know it’s hard to believe that I would ever give you the time of day. What with how you look like a homeless third year on most occasions.”

“Hey!”

“Oh, alright, I suppose you’re tall enough to be a fourth year.” Harry smacked his chest and rolled off him. He waved his hand and his wand came flying into his hand. Draco watched him curiously as he cast a cleaning charm. “That you use a wand for?”

“Ah, yeah,” Harry laughed. “Otherwise it’s more of an intense exfoliation charm.” Draco shuddered at the thought. “But really, why did you say yes?”

“I guess because you make me react without thinking.”

Harry curled himself into Draco’s side, as Draco wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close. “I didn’t have you pegged for a cuddler.”

“Yes, well any half wit with one eye could see the you’d like to snuggle after sex,” Draco said. “Just trying to make you feel comfortable.” Harry only chuckled in response. “Say Potter?”

“Hmm?”

“Firstly, why do you have a snake named Helga, and secondly, where is she?”

“Shit!”

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