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talkfastromance4 · 4 years

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Til there was You-- (l.h)

It’s finally here! The Luke&Lily origin story! There are little hints from other blurbs and discussions in here and I hope you find them and I hope you enjoy this as much as I loved writing it. Thank you for loving these characters as much as I do.

Feedback is welcome!

Warnings: slight ptsd and smut near the end

Word count: 5,586

donate to my ko-fi here :)

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Masterlist

Luke&Lily Masterlist

• • • •

Luke didn’t really consider himself to be an observant person. He noticed roses on shirts and lipstick stains on coffee mugs but while he was walking the street the world was but a blur. That all changed when he first saw you sitting across the way at his recently new favorite coffee shop, Dream Bean. It’s become his favorite place to write because it’s quaint and is never crowded.

He noticed you always ordered the same thing, a grande white mocha with extra whip and a cranberry orange muffin. He noticed you would only come here on Fridays and Saturdays. He noticed you always brought a book with you while you’d sip your coffee, eyes never leaving the page as you took a drink. He noticed how bright your eyes were and how kind your smile was when you’d speak to Bailey the barista.

He also noticed you didn’t have a ring on your finger.

While he wrote in his lyric book, Luke also noticed how his words would form into your features. Your careful fingers as you turned the page, the soft shadows on your cheeks from your eyelashes, and the way you nibbled your lip as you read.

It’s been a whole month of his quiet observations of you and when he noticed he wrote a whole song for you while he was at home, he figured he should do something about it. Instead of being the silent observer, he’ll actively pursue.

****

You’d just pulled into the parking spot outside the Dream Bean and spotted the handsome golden curled man you’ve been ogling for the past month through the window. Aside from his good looks, he wouldn’t be hard to spot since he towered over so many and his eyes were a pretty robin’s egg blue.

Your stomach flipped at the sight of him as you got out. You could feel his gaze as you walked through the door, the wind chime jingled your presence. You felt his gaze as you walked past him to the front counter.

“Grande white mocha, extra whip and cranberry muffin?” Bailey asks with a smile.

“You got it,” you chuckle pulling out your card.

“It’s already covered,” she shakes her head and points at the good looking guy.

“Oh uhh… wow, okay,” you blanched putting your card back in the slot behind your phone.

As you make your way to your table, you risk a glance and he’s already looking at you. You give him a warm smile which he returns and you look in front of you again at the right time otherwise you’d bump into the table. You set your purse down and pull out your book, placing your phone next to it face up as you begin reading.

After a few moments you sense a presence next to you.

“Thanks Bailey,” you say continuing to read your last paragraph.

“I’m not Bailey,” a low accented voice says, “but you’re welcome.”

You glance up to see pretty blue eyes holding your order in his hands on a tray, his belongings in his other hand.

“Oh, um, I’m sorry,” you laugh awkwardly. “Thank you for buying it.”

“You’re welcome,” he smiles setting your things down and puts the tray on a nearby table. “I’m Luke by the way.”

“Y/N,” you respond then shift your things around, “do you want to join me?”

“Sure, if you don’t mind.”

“You bought my order, the least I can do is offer you a seat.”

When he situates himself in the chair his knees bump yours and the butterflies are back at the simple innocent touch. He takes out his own notebook and pen and gives you a small grin.

“Oh, you don’t want to talk?” you ask in confusion.

“We can talk later for dinner, I know you like to read your book when you’re here,” he shrugs.

“Dinner, huh? What if I’m busy?”

“Are you busy?” he asks leaning forward, his voice teasing.

“No,” you giggle shaking your head. “Is dinner a date, then?”

“Second date actually,” he points his pen at you.

“Oh? How so?” you raise your eyebrows.

“This is our first one, I bought you coffee and now our second date will be dinner. Now, shh,” he presses his finger to his lips, “reading time.”

During your ‘date’ you and Luke would always glance at each other, you in between paragraphs and him in between writing in his notebook. Finally, huffing and closing your book you look up at him.

“I can’t pay attention with you looking at me,” you laugh and take the last sip of your coffee.

“Yeah I’ve been doodling for the last hour,” he laughs. “How about we cut the first date short and start the second?”

“Sounds good to me.”

After gathering all of your stuff together, you both wave at Bailey at the door and then you pause staring at your car. Is he going to drive or you? Does he even have his car here or did he walk?

“My car’s this way,” he motions pointing to a black SUV. He opens the door for you and gets in on his own side, starts the car but doesn’t pull away. He just sits there and looks at you.

“What? This isn’t the part where you think of the best way to dice up my body and get rid of the evidence is it?”

“I’m—what? No,” he laughs shaking his head, “I’m thinking of where to take you and I’m trying to guess your favorite food.”

“What do you think?”

“Hmm,” he hums and his eyes scan over your face. You feel yourself blush. “You don’t look like a sushi girl so. . . Italian?”

“Good guess,” you smile wryly then notice your outfit is kind of on the simpler side. High waisted jeans with a blouse and a long sweater. “Um, nowhere too fancy though, okay?”

“You look a lot better than me.”

You take in his outfit. Simple black jeans with little rips in the knees and he’s got on a white t-shirt with silver chains hanging down his neck. His hair looks extra fluffy.

“You look pretty great to me,” you murmur then cover your mouth in embarrassment.

“It’s only our second date and you’re already checking me out, huh?” he teases peeling away from the Dream Bean and onto the main street.

You shake your head but Luke is laughing lightly and he turns the music up a little as he drives to your destination. When he parks you take in the restaurant and it’s a semi-casual Italian restaurant that you always go to with your girlfriends.

“No way, this is my favorite place,” you say.

“You’re just being nice.”

“No, I’m serious! I come here a lot with my girlfriends! Are you stalking me?” you give him a side eye and he barks out a laugh and gets out.

He’s still laughing when he opens your door.

“I swear I’m not a stalker. I come here a lot too, maybe we’ve been here at the same time and never knew it,” he offers.

You follow him into the restaurant, he holds the door open, and you’re seated right away in a booth in the corner away from the other guests. You liked that because you could listen to his voice in your own privacy, it was like honey.

You make light conversation over what to order and then when the food arrives that’s when you get into deep topics.

“I’m in a band, 5 Seconds of Summer, and I’m the lead singer,” he tells you even though you already knew but you weren’t going to tell him that. “You knew didn’t you?”

“What? No I didn’t,” you shake your head as you pick apart your breadstick and dip it in your sauce.

“Whatever,” he chuckles, “what do you do?”

“I’m a paralegal, I make sure things are filed for law firms, preparing contracts and things like that.”

Luke lets out a low whistle, “Wow. That’s impressive.”

“Thank you.”

“Must be good hours for you to have Fridays off then?”

“Um . . . yes and no,” you shift uncomfortably in your seat. You know you couldn’t keep your secret, and you wouldn’t. “Luke, I have to be honest with you about something.”

“Okay,” he answers dubiously.

You take a deep breath and set your fork down, folding your hands together. Luke watches your actions and mimics them.

“I normally save this conversation for second dates and since this is our second one according to you, I’ll tell you know now. I have a daughter. She just turned one two months ago and I know that’s baggage for some people but you need to know. If this is going somewhere or it isn’t. I have her to think about and I’m not looking for a fling.”

Luke stares at you for a moment then starts to nod, he unfolds his hands and picks up his fork and starts eating again.

“Okay, can you tell me about her?”

You stare at him dumbfounded. Was he serious?

“You aren’t . . . upset about it?”

“Why would I be upset about that? You having a daughter . . . yeah it’s a big deal but it’s not a deal breaker. What’s her name?”

You’re still taken aback but you try to compose yourself. Talking about your daughter is your favorite thing to do.

“Her name’s Lily,” you smile proudly, “and she’s wonderful.”

“Does she look like you?” Luke grins.

“I think so, yeah,” you nod blushing. You resume eating.

“I like that name, Lily. It’s pretty and sweet. So, how is it you have off on Fridays?”

“That’s a conversation for date number five,” you answer slyly.

“Then I’ll wait until date number five,” he smiles.

• • • •

Date number five has you and Luke at an aquarium. You hold hands as you walk below the glowing blue water, fish and sharks swimming lazily on by all around you.

“Can I ask you something?” he asks suddenly when you stop to examine a little school of fish.

“Of course,” you say.

“Where does Lily go when you’re with me on Fridays and Saturdays? Do your parents watch her or do you have a babysitter?”

You purse your lips and pick at the chipped paint on the railing in front of the glass.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

“No, no you aren’t prying,” you turn to face him and squeeze his hand in assurance. “She’s with her dad Fridays and Saturdays.”

You and Cory have been friends for a long time. You first met through a job you had during school and would spend late nights studying or closing up the restaurant where you worked. There was always light teasing with a hint of flirting hanging in the air between you two. It was so palpable that everyone in the restaurant couldn’t believe you weren’t already dating.

One late night after closing, he invited you over to his place for a drink and one thing lead to another and you woke up in his bed the next morning. At first it started out as just a fling, flirting at work and then going back to your place or his to have sex.

When that didn’t last and he asked you if you’d want to make it official with him you were more than happy to say yes.

You were in a relationship for about two years and then he got deployed, he was in the National Guard and when they were called to action he had to go. It was a rough six months but you got through it.

When he came back for a weekend before going out again, you never left the bedroom.

“When will you be home again?” you asked playing with his dog chains on his chest.

“Another six months,” he sighed brushing your hair from your face. “But when I come back, I’ll bring a ring for you.”

“Yeah? What kind of ring?” you smiled so bad your cheeks hurt. On the inside you were screaming.

“You know what kind of ring,” he teased your ring finger with the pad of his own. “I’m just doing patrols, so when this six months is up our life will go back to normal. And we’ll get our own apartment—“

“And a dog?”

“We can get a dog,” he laughed. “You can have whatever you want.”

“I like that plan,” you smiled leaning forward to kiss him, sealing his promise.

----

It was 1:36 in the morning when your phone started ringing from an unknown number, 3 months later.

“Hello? Cory?” You asked sitting up quickly. You flicked on your light.

“No, ma’am, this is Alice from Mercy Hospital. You’re listed as Mr. Cory Stone’s emergency contact.”

“Are you sure? He’s not even in the country—“

“He was airlifted here a few hours ago and he’s still in surgery. It took a long time for us to receive your information but, as you are his emergency contact, is there any way you can come here?”

“Yes, yeah absolutely. Um, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Thank you.”

Your voice was robotic as were your movements as you got dressed, and placed your hand on your small bump. You felt a tiny flutter under your touch.

“It’s okay, baby, your daddy’s gonna be fine,” you told your baby and dart out the door.

---

When Cory awoke from his surgery he was an entirely different person. He had to have a double bypass on his heart because while he was on patrol, there was a hidden vigilante that opened fire and shot him right in the chest. Vessels in his heart were damaged which caused the double bypass and there was bleeding in his lungs. He went into cardiac arrest twice while he was airlifted and the medics said he was very lucky to have made it to the hospital and again through his surgery.

Cory was more quiet and sullen, he was quick to anger and when you told him you were pregnant he spent a majority of the time thinking you cheated on him. He was discharged for medical reasons due to his heart and that didn’t sit well with him.

Cory became bitter and resentful and angry that his life was basically over. His words, not yours. He wanted nothing to do with you or the baby and finally, after countless fights that ended with you in tears and him holing himself up in his room, you left.

You left him behind and for the first 9 months of Lily’s life, it was just you and her. You’d had a bond formed already from the 9 months you carried her, but now she was your person and you were hers. You’re thankful that your job at the office of Smith Group Law gave you twelve weeks maternity leave with an option of four more weeks if requested.

You still got paid but biweekly and since the law firm was more female based, they were more than happy for you to work from home as well so you could be with your Lily.

Until you got a letter in the mail signifying he wanted visitation rights to his daughter.

That first night you cried nonstop because for longer than a year, you hadn’t heard a word from Cory. And all of a sudden he wants visitation rights to his daughter he thought wasn’t even his?

Lily heard you crying and crawled over to you from her fort of toys.

“Mama,” she cried and you held onto her, kissing her cheeks and her head.

“Mama’s okay, we’re okay,” you hushed to her.

Not wanting this situation to go to court, you took it upon yourself to visit Cory yourself. You’d brought Lily along but she was in the car with your best friend waiting for your signal to bring her by.

“Y/N,” Cory stared at you blankly.

You both took each other in. It’s been so long since you last saw him but he looked so much better. His clothes looked new and clean, his hair is buzzed on the sides with it being a little longer up top but it’s styled nicely. He looked really well.

“Can we talk? Just you and me without lawyers?” You asked.

“Um, yeah. Come in,” he nodded stepping aside.

You took in his condo. Everything was pristine and orderly. Like how it was before his accident. It’s brighter just like he is.

“I know what you’re thinking, but this isn’t all just for show. I really picked myself back up over the last year,” he confessed.

“I’m so glad to hear that Cory, really, I am,” you smiled. “I’m just confused why you got lawyers involved to see Lily. You could have always called me.”

“I wanted you to see I was serious, I didn’t mean to scare you with the whole order thing. After how I treated you after my accident I didn’t think you’d want to see me again. Lily? That’s her name?” he smiled.

“Yeah, Lily Jean,” you smiled. “Cory, you know me. We could always talk about anything and this, Lily, is more important than anything else.”

“Shit,” he rubbed his face with his hands. “I’m sorry. I’d rather this be done without lawyers, too. We can do a compromise, right?”

“Absolutely. You look really good, Cory,” you said as tears welled in your eyes.

“C’mere,” he smiled and opened his arms. You wrapped your arms around his waist and you cried into his shirt. He held you tightly, hands rubbing your back.

You thought after so long of not seeing him you’d be right back where you were, in love. But all you felt for him was a solid friendship built on love that has many roots of memories and from those roots you had your own little flower of Lily.

After a long hugging session, he wiped your tears away while you laughed.

“She’s outside if you want to meet her? Then we can talk about a plan.”

“I’d like that,” he nodded then ran off to the living room. When he came back he was holding small fuzzy purple blanket.

****

“So, that’s the story of her dad,” you finished just as a sea turtle glided by.

Luke took a step closer to you, his thumb swipes at your cheek.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry, lovie.”

“I’m not crying, am I?” you panic and feel the wetness on your cheeks. “I’m sorry. He’s great with her, it’s just a tough subject sometimes.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” he shakes his head then tilts your chin up so you look at him. “Lily’s lucky to have a strong mother like you.”

Luke places his fingers on your cheeks, pulling you close and pauses when his lips are barely brushing yours. You nudge your nose against his and your lips finally touch in the sweetest kiss. It’s filled with promise and mutual longing.

“I hope that was okay,” he whispers once you both pull away to catch your breath.

“It was perfect,” you smile and give him one more peck.

****

It’s been three months that you’ve been seeing Luke every Friday and Saturday while Lily’s at Cory’s place. He’s taking you out to a special dinner at a five star restaurant promising you’ll love their steak.

“Is it smaller than my fist?” you ask taking his hand as he helps you out of the car. You decided to wear a little black dress with some red pumps finished off with a red lip. You wanted to feel sexy tonight, for yourself and for Luke.

“Order two steaks lovie,” he chuckles handing the keys to the valet. You raise your eyebrows at Luke from the luxury. He blushes.

When the hostess seats you and hands you two menus, they offer you the house wine.

“No wine, but the lady will have an amaretto sour and I’ll have a tequila soda, please,” Luke tells her.

“You remembered I don’t like wine,” you praise with a smile. Your stomach flips at the notion.

“I remember a lot of things about you,” he smiles.

You blush and look down at the menu. Your eyes widen and you gasp at the prices of the appetizers alone.

“Luke! This is insanely pricey!” you hiss leaning over the menu.

“Y/N, don’t worry about it, trust me.”

“I don’t have enough to chip in—“

“Y/N,” he says your name more seriously and pulls your hand from the menu so he can hold it. “This is my treat to you, I want tonight to be special, okay? You can buy all my coffee at the Dream Bean for the next year, I promise.”

You sigh through your nose, ignoring the flipping of your stomach at his suggestion of a year of being with him.

Throughout the dinner, you couldn’t keep your eyes off of Luke. His hair was slicked back with his curls under his ears and his white shirt had the top three buttons undone underneath his suit jacket. His chest hair peeked through and you couldn’t believe you were with this angel of a man.

“Are you checking me out over there?” he smirks once you’re both finished eating.

“What if I am?” you tease and then the waitress appears next to the table.

“Would you like dessert? Its chocolate mousse layered with chocolate cake and whipped cream,” she informs.

“We’ll take dessert to go with the check please,” Luke tells her but his gaze is on you. You feel the heat of his gaze between your thighs.

After paying, getting the cake in a to-go box and waiting for the valet to bring Luke’s car around front, you felt how different the air between you and him was. It was static and electric and each brush of his elbow against your arm left a spark.

You both snuck glances at each other on the drive to his house, the golden lights illuminating his face. When he stops at a yellow light just before it turns red, he grabs hold of your bare knee so you don’t lurch forward. When you don’t move his hand, he takes that as a green light and slides it between your thigh, his hand hot and soft against your skin.

For the rest of the drive, his thumb rubs circles on your leg and you’re counting down the minutes until you’re at his place.

He kills the ignition and you both get out of the car, sensing what the other is feeling as you follow him inside. He tosses the cake box onto the counter and presses his lips against yours in a needy way. Your fingers work on shoving his jacket off his broad shoulders and he pushes you against a wall. His arms cage you in and he stops the kiss to watch you undo his shirt, pulling it off him.

His breathing is ragged as you run your palms through his chest hair and down onto his stomach, he inhales when you touch the edge of his dress pants. You lift your eyes to his pretty blue ones, he’s looking at you with such intensity and need it’s almost as if you’re looking at yourself because that’s exactly what you’re feeling.

He steps closer, tugging on your top lip, teeth grazing your skin before his tongue slips inside. Luke’s hands graze down your sides, his fingers grabbing onto your ass and squeezes. You’re pulled away from the wall.

“Jump,” he mumbles.

You spring up on your feet and he catches you easily walking down the hallway to his bedroom. He lets you slide from his arms, his fingers moving the zipper of your dress down its track. You pull your arms from the sleeves letting it fall to your feet. Luke groans when you press your naked chest against his.

His hands cup your cheek, his nose rubs against yours.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathes before kissing you deeply.

He turns you around so he can get on the bed first, his fingers pull on your arms to follow him. Luke lays down and you straddle his waist, you love the feel of his large hands roaming over your ass, he tugs on the band of your lace panties. You shimmy out of them and then he taps the backs of your thighs.

“What?” you pant moving your lips to his ear, tugging on his lobe and it makes him moan.

“Sit on my face,” he mumbles kissing your neck.

You move back slowly and stare at him. Did you hear him correctly?

“What?”

He swallows harshly as if he’s nervous but his hands say otherwise as he tries to get you to move up his body.

“I asked for my dessert to go,” he smiles then jerks his head upwards. “Hop on.”

“Okay,” you smile against his lips before giving him a quick peck and following his instructions.

Your heart is hammering in your chest as you situate yourself above him, you can feel his breath as he exhales onto you. His fingers are splayed on your thighs, squeezing lightly and you rest your forearms on his headboard. And then you feel his tongue slip through your folds and you can’t even contain the moan from your mouth.

He hums as if in approval then flattens his whole tongue on you before suctioning his mouth on your opening. Your head falls to your arms enjoying the pleasure. Whenever you moan Luke squeezes your thighs and dives in deeper, he pulls your hips down closer. His tongue flicks persistently at you and soon you’re rocking your hips against his mouth, arching your body so his tongue hits the perfect spot.

“So good, Luke,” you sigh and throw your head back when he hums some more.

You feel your orgasm creeping up your body and you move your hips faster letting it take you over. He suctions his mouth on your clit again, moving his head from side to side as you come all over him. His name tumbles from your lips.

“Mm,” you whine as you slow your hips and his hold on your thighs loosen.

“Stay there,” he breathes against your sensitive core. You hear some shuffling as he kicks off his pants. “Okay, get down here lovie.”

You try not to collapse on top of him as you shift down his body. You moan when you feel his dick hit your thigh and his hands are all over your back as you descend. When your faces align you connect your lips with his, tongues rolling over each other and he lifts his hips. His head presses against your entrance and you’ve never wanted anyone more.

“Condom?” you whisper.

“Already on.”

“Mm, you’re fast,” you giggle and he presses into you. You groan at the feeling.

“Wanna feel you, baby,” he mumbles and pushes in a bit more. “You taste like honey.”

You groan at his words and lower yourself onto his dick until he’s inside you fully. You both sigh as he fills you up plentifully. His fingers trace up and down your back and you take that as a cue to start moving. You raise your hips then drop them back down, feeling him glide in and out of you.

You find a comfortable pace, one that feels good and hits just the right spot and it has you close your eyes. You focus on his hands on you, on him sliding in and out so easily, the soft slap of skin on skin.

“Look at me,” he sighs.

You open your eyes slowly to be met with his.

“You’re so perfect . . . look at you.”

You kiss him sloppily and move your hips faster, trying to gather speed and chase your second orgasm. Luke helps you by thrusting up into you and you’re moaning into his mouth. Before you can finish he’s flipped you over and hammers himself in and out of you swiftly.

“You’re . . . perfect,” you pant as he fucks you deeper and faster. You turn your head into his arm next to you, you kiss his wrist and when he hits your special spot you accidentally bite onto his skin as you cry out in pleasure.

“Fuck,” he groans, his hips snap faster and faster. Your bodies jostle one another as he comes as well. His movements become jerky and when he stills, you remove your mouth from his wrist.

He’s panting on your chest trying to gather his breath, and you smile at the tingling sensation left in your body.

“Stay right here,” he murmurs kissing your breast lightly and slips off you.

You watch him move about the room and flick on his bathroom light, it washes you in a bright yellow. He disposes of the condom and gets a washcloth and towel. Your legs jerk when you feel the warm cloth between your legs.

“Sorry,” he hushes and wipes away at you tenderly between your legs and on your stomach. He pats you dry and kisses your tummy.

He joins you in bed and you lay on top of him, frowning.

“No fair, I’m the only one who has sex hair.”

“You left your mark,” he chuckles holding up his wrist.

You move it into the light from the bathroom and gasp. There’s a nasty red mark of your teeth on his left wrist.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t think I bit you that hard!” you bend down and kiss the spot carefully.

“It’s okay, you’re my little vampire,” he laughs squeezing you against him.

You shift your gaze to his and you hold his face in your hands, staring at him in awe. You’ve never felt this way about anyone before. You thought you did with Cory but this was more intense, more raw and real. It scared you and thrilled you all at once.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“I . . .”

You hear the hesitancy and the following two words hanging off his tongue just as you feel them ready to burst from your chest. Three little words that hold so much weight in them. But it’s too early to say them now, it’s only been three months.

“Me too,” you smile and kiss his nose. Some things can be heard unspoken.

****

It’s the Sunday after you spent the weekend at Luke’s and you’re walking up Cory’s sidewalk. It’s also been five months that you’ve been seeing Luke. You’re going to tell Cory you’ve been dating someone and that you want him to meet Lily, that it’s serious and you want Lily to meet him too.

You’re nervous as you knock on the door before opening it. He always unlocks it when you’re coming and you feel a sense of security and trust in that.

“Mama!” Lily shrieks from the living room.

She hobbles her way over to you with the help of Cory holding onto her whole hand with just one of his fingers.

“Hi my baby!” you smile happily and meet her halfway to scoop her up in your arms. She hugs your neck as you hug her back. “Did you have fun with daddy?”

“We watched Zootopia all day, every day,” Cory sighs with a smile. “She ate all her blueberries, but you have to do it with a fork.”

“Good girl eating all your fruit!” you tickle her tummy and kiss her cheek then look up at Cory. “Can I talk to you about something?”

“Yeah. What’s up?”

“Can we sit?” you chew on your lip nervously and move to his kitchen table. You position Lily in your lap and give her a toy that’s left on the table, it’s a set of keys. Cory sits across from you. “So, we both promised if one of us was serious about someone and wanted to meet Lily, we’d talk to each other first. Well . . . I’ve been dating someone for the last five months and I want him to meet her.”

Cory rubs his chin and chuckles nervously.

“That’s not what I was expecting,” his dark brown eyes shift from Lily to yours. “Who is he?”

“His name is Luke and he’s a really great guy, you’d like him. He’s a lead singer in a band from Australia and they do really well. They’re working on their fifth album right now and he didn’t run when I told him about Lily.”

“He didn’t run when you told him about me?” Cory grins.

“No,” you roll your eyes and hold onto the keys Lily’s playing with as she shakes them around. “If you want to meet him too, I can—“

“I can wait,” he shakes his head. “Thanks for telling me. I’m sure he’s . . . I’m sure he is a great guy to catch your eye. Hopefully Lils likes him.” he tickles the bottom of her foot and she giggles.

“I think she will. He has a dog.”

“Arf! Arf!” Lily chirps and causes you both to laugh.

“Good girl, Lily, that’s what a dog makes,” you praise her and kiss her cheek.

You look up at Cory to see him already staring back at you. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it and watches you rock Lily from side to side.

“She’s perfect,” Cory says softly.

• • • •

Copyright talkfastromance4 © All works is intellectual property of the author. All rights reserved. Any redistribution or reproduction or any part or all contents in any form is prohibited. You may not, without written expression and consent from the author, distribute works amongst other social media platforms

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yoon-kooks · 4 years

Text

Witch Hazel- Pt.5

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: FanficWriter!Jungkook, Idol!Reader, College!AU, Angst, Fluff

Summary: There are two students in your art class with a secret: you and the quiet Jeon Jungkook. You’re a problematic idol singer, infamous for your ice cold reputation and perpetual resting bitch face; he’s the artist and author behind the viral comic series based on a certain ice queen idol. After a blowup of destructive rumors, lost motivation and inevitable solitude, you stumble upon Jungkook’s comic and find a new and unexpected light.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: none

Parts: 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // ?

“So are you in, Jimin?”

“I’m in,” he chuckles at your little proposal. His laugh retains its charm, even through the phone. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little jealous of that charming quality of his. “But can I ask you something, Snow?”

“Go for it.”

“Why me?”

“To prove a point,” you say. “You also have something to prove, right? Otherwise you wouldn’t have shown up at my concert that night despite being well aware of how the public and media would react.”

“Right… Sorry about that, by the way.” You hear the sorrow still beating him up in his lowered voice. It makes sense that he feels the need to blame himself for all the backlash you received, but he shouldn’t have to feel guilty when all he wanted was a little freedom as a normal human being and not as the perfect idol the world makes him out to be.

“It’s fine, Jimin. We may be glorified idols at the top of the industry, but there are a lot of things we have no control over.”

“True… Sometimes it seems like the only way to escape the judgment of the public eye is to hide behind a mask, huh.” Jimin sighs. “But we can’t always live like that either.”

“Exactly.”

After hanging up, you toss your phone aside and pick up your guitar.

On your way to class, you’ve made a habit of checking jk.seagull’s blog for any updates on Witch Hazel, and you’re delighted when you find this new text post:

“it’s not done yet, but I’m planning on posting a new chapter this afternoon after class!”

To celebrate the occasion, you stop by your local coffee shop to pick up a special mocha with extra whipped cream. You’re already late for class after failing to hear your five alarms this morning anyway. And besides, maybe you deserve a little pick-me-up after all the writing you’d done the night before. For once, you feel pretty good about the direction you’re headed in.

Not even a scolding by your professor could ruin your mood.

“Oh, Y/N. How nice of you to join us,” your professor motions for you to take your seat as soon as you step foot into the art room. “I was just talking about how certain students have not been taking this class seriously as of late.”

She glances directly at you, along with your tablemates, Taehyung and Jungkook. “Sorry,” you mouth with a lack of sincerity, before taking a long sip of your mocha.

“And because of that,” the professor continues, “I’ve decided to move up the due date of our portrait project to tomorrow.”

A collective groan fills the room from the entire class, with the exception of those few lucky bastards who’ve already completed their project early. Once the class is dismissed, the scramble to actually get shit done begins. Even Taehyung opts to stick around as opposed to his usual obligations, and that speaks volumes.

As soon as your team relocates to one of the empty art studios nearby, however, it’s apparent that no one is really vibing with this project.

“So… what’s the assignment again?” Taehyung scratches his head. As much as you’d love to scold the boy for his lack of awareness of anything happening in art class, you haven’t been in the proper mindset to give the project any thought either.

“Something about drawing ourselves based on how others perceive us?” Jungkook yawns. “Or was it drawing each other’s portrait?”

“The first one, I think,” you say. “It doesn’t really make a difference when Jungkook’s gonna end up drawing Taehyung’s portion anyway.”

“True,” the boys say together. If there’s one thing you’ve learned from your art class shenanigans, it’s that the more you get to know someone, the easier it is to understand them and their actions—even if they’re completely different from you like Taehyung.

“If that’s the case, let’s hurry up and let each other know how we perceive one another. I have a doubleheader later on that I’d really hate to miss,” Taehyung nods in satisfaction at his clever wording for what you presume to be back-to-back one night stands. “I’ll start: Y/N, there’s not much I know about you besides the fact that you’re unfriendly, but I think that’s intentional. Like you’re hiding a dark secret or something. Jungkook, if you weren’t so shy, I’m sure you’d get laid more often.”

“Let’s not sugarcoat anything,” you roll your eyes. “I would say you, Taehyung, abuse your charm to get what you want. You use sleeping around as an excuse to avoid responsibility. And you embrace it because you fear that that’s the only thing people will ever acknowledge you for.”

“I’m not usually a masochist, but I kind of like it when you roast me like that, Y/N,” Taehyung shrugs it off, though you know you’ve hit the mark. Everyone has a poker face, and Kim Taehyung is no exception. To take the attention off of himself, he throws an arm around his favorite art buddy. “Roast this guy next.”

You glance over at Jungkook who’s in the midst of adding to your roast on Taehyung. It’s interesting to see how differently he acts with Taehyung, with you, and with everyone else. The more he knows someone, the less he withholds. If he knew you more, you wonder what he’d tell you. “I agree that if Jungkook weren’t so shy, there’d be more potential for a lot of things, but-”

Buzz! Taehyung looks down at his phone. “Well, that’s my cue. Jungkook, Y/N, you know what to do~”

“Have fun at your doubleheader,” you wave off your incompetent teammate until he’s out of sight. “Should we be enabling him like this?”

“Probably not. But even I can’t say no to that charm of his.” Jungkook sighs as he pulls out a blank sheet of bristol paper. In what feels like an instant, several dots and lines transform into a general outline of Taehyung’s face. “I’m surprised you haven’t fallen for his charm yet… unless…?”

“Look, I get the appeal of a smoothtalker who walks with confidence, but Taehyung really isn’t my type,” you laugh.

“Still, I’m a little envious of him.” Jungkook draws Taehyung a nice and natural wink. “Because he isn’t afraid to chase after what he wants.”

You want to tell the boy that he should chase after whatever it is he wants, but you know that’s easier said than done. After all, you know exactly how it feels to take that leap of faith, only to fall short before reaching the dream you so desired. So all you can do is nod and start working on your own portrait.

For about five whole minutes, you try to sketch out a decent upside-down egg shape for your head, but it always comes out a little lopsided or rough around the edges. Once you’ve got a little mountain of eraser shaving piling up, you decide it’s time to sneak a peek at Jungkook’s sketch to get an idea of how a well-seasoned artist draws a proper face.

What you see instead, however, is the boy staring back at your mountain of eraser shavings. You swear you hear a little pft come out of his mouth. The nerve.

“Hold your pencil like this,” he says, holding his own pencil with his pinky sticking out.

You replicate his grip, wiggling the pinky. “Is this some sort of weird pinky promise that artists do?”

Before Jungkook can even respond, your pinky is already linked to his. Funny how his finger curled around yours as if it were the most normal thing to do, but his burning cheeks say otherwise. You might’ve jumped the gun on this one.

After blinking at the empty pinky promise for a good three seconds, the boy finally lets go. “Use that pinky to steady your hand as you sketch.”

“Oh… right…” You feel a wildfire spreading across your own cheeks. Your dumbass somehow misinterpreted a drawing technique for something as childish as a pinky promise! Whether it’s because you’re flustered or just shitty at art, you fumble around to get your pencil on the paper. “…How do I do it again?”

Rather than trying to explain or demonstrate it to you, Jungkook motions for you to come closer. So you do. He takes your hand and individually sets each finger onto your pencil like a guitar teacher helping their student find the right chord position.

You’re pleasantly surprised by how gentle his touch is. Rather than forcing your fingers to conform to the conventional ways of an artist, he gives them the little push they need to find their own place along the length of the pencil—wherever is most comfortable for you.

Once you’ve got a good grip, Jungkook guides your pencil back to the canvas with your pinky just barely touching the drawing surface. “Now try drawing the outline of your face again.”

You do as you’re told and see immediate results. Although it’s not a perfect egg, your lines are noticeably smoother as if your skin had just been cleared. Jungkook gives you and your improved egg a thumbs-up, which you return with a thumbs-up of your own.

As you both resume your portraits, you can’t help but wonder if it was the tiny adjustment of how you held your pencil that made the difference. Or if it was Jeon Jungkook himself. You suppose only time will tell.

Several hours later, Jungkook has finished Taehyung’s portrait, you still need to color yours in, and an announcement goes off through the intercom.

“Due to the art auction charity event tonight, this building will be closing in ten minutes. Thank you.”

You groan. This is the worst case scenario for your damn group project. Because if you’re kicked out of the studio, you won’t have access to all of the necessary art supplies.

Unless…?

You exchange glances with the most devoted artist you know.

Jungkook’s apartment is not exactly how you imagined a weeby Snow stan’s habitat to look. There’s not a trace of Snow, nor is there a hint of magic anime girls floating around. But the one thing you did correctly predict is the amount of art scattered across the boy’s room.

Everywhere you look, you’re blown away by something different from the last. A painted city landscape detailed enough to be mistaken for an actual photo, a busy abstract pattern that makes the little wheels in your head spin, the familiar animation booklet of the flower in the snow, and an interesting little doodle that doesn't seem to scream “college art project”.

You try to make sense of what appears to be the chaos that ensues when the worlds of mathematics and music collide. Half of the basic times tables chart is replaced with values represented by music notes. The math nerd in you laughs when you see that a sixteenth note is correctly placed where two quarter notes align. Similarly, the music sheet on the other side of the doodle has a time signature of “75%” aka ¾ time aka the rhythm of a waltz.

“How old were you when you drew this one?” You point to the artwork titled Math Musician written in tiny font at the bottom corner next to the boy’s initials.

Jungkook chuckles, probably out of embarrassment. “I think I was ten.”

“Imagine being a talented artist at age ten. Can’t relate,” you clown yourself as you pull out your unfinished portrait from your art bag. In addition to looking “unfriendly”, your drawn face is rather lifeless and more so demonic for some reason. Hopefully some color will bring more dimension and life back into your flesh.

Just then, you realize you’ve made a fatal mistake.

“Umm, Jungkook?” you continue to stare down at your mistake. “I forgot to factor in your opinion of me into my portrait and now I just look unfriendly like Taehyung said.”

Jungkook tilts his head to get a better look at your monstrosity. His reaction could go one of three ways: he could laugh and give you a hard time about it, he could help you find a solution, or he could do both.

“You definitely nailed the ‘unfriendly’ part,” he snickers. “The RBF is strong with this one.”

“So you agree that I’m unfriendly?” On one hand, that would be good because you won’t have to revise your portrait if Jungkook shares the same opinion as Taehyung. On the other hand, you don’t want Jungkook to have that opinion of you.

“Not necessarily,” he says. “I think if people looked beyond your unfriendly demeanor, they’d find someone very different.”

Before you can ask the boy to elaborate, he has already left and come back with the solution to your problem: fancy coloring markers.

“Since you already drew your appearance based on Taehyung’s opinion, you can color it in based on my opinion, if that makes it easier.” Jungkook hands you an assortment of markers, though a large portion of them are just different shades of one color in particular. Yellow.

Yellow was the last color you were expecting. You expected cooler and darker tones like blues or greys to match your ice queen personality. But yellow? Yellow, to you, has always meant bright and happy.

“Yellow is a happy color, isn’t it?” You start swatching each shade of yellow to see how they translate onto a white canvas. Your favorite shade out of the bunch is the soft pale one called Banana Milk, but that still doesn’t mean it suits you. To prove your point, you hold up your unfriendly demon portrait to your actual face and pout. “Do either of these faces look happy to you, Jungkook?”

“No, but they do look silly.” The boy cracks a smile at your humor. “In a good way.” The way he smiles so brightly plants a dangerous little seed in your head. Maybe the yellow is meant to represent not how he perceives your feelings, but rather, how he perceives his own feelings for you.

By the time evening comes, you’ve shaded in every inch of your canvas, completing your portion of the portrait project. You were right—the bright colors really did help bring life back into your face, and there’s less of a demonic aura about it now.

It also looks like one big contradiction: an unfriendly-looking face with a cheerful brightness around it. But that’s probably what Jungkook was referring to when he said you were very different beneath your unfriendly mask.

As you stretch out your arms and yawn, you peek over at the boy’s progress with his portrait. He stares down at his markers scattered across the floor, pushing his long locks out of his eyes, in search of his next color. From the small portion that he has colored so far, you notice a big difference between his portrait and yours. While your color scheme is bright and flashy like a star, Jungkook’s is soft and subtle to mimic his shy and lowkey personality.

“Use this,” you toss him the Banana Milk marker and pull a scrunchie off your wrist, “and this too.”

Jungkook places the pale yellow marker down right on the area he’ll color next. He doesn’t, however, know what to do with the foreign hair accessory in his palm. He just blinks at it.

With a dramatic sigh, you join the boy on the floor and take back the scrunchie. Like a puppy with long bangs poking its eyes, he lets you comb your fingers through his hair before tying a tiny sprout on top of his head.

“So this is what the world looks like,” he nods, as if his long hair had greatly hindered his view of the world in front of him. At the same time, he spots the finished product of your portrait. “Your self-portrait is a lot different from how I would draw you.”

“I would’ve appreciated a compliment for my hard work, but go ahead and insult me, Jeon.” You square up.

“Oh sorry. You did a phenomenal job, Y/N.” He doesn’t even try to put effort into masking his sarcasm as pity praise. But that’s expected in how he hasn’t missed a single opportunity to tease you and your shitty art. “It’s just interesting how differently others interpret us from how we interpret ourselves.”

Now you’re curious. “How would you draw me then?”

“You want to see?” Jungkook pushes his own portrait aside and starts digging around for a sketchbook with a blank page to spare. What possesses him to prioritize a drawing of you before his own portrait that’s due in less than 24 hours? You won’t allow that.

“I want to see it after our project is finished, please,” you pull his unfinished portrait back in front of him before making yourself comfy on the boy’s bed. “In the meantime, I’ll be reading you-know-what.”

“Smut?” The boy has a dirty mind, it seems.

“Unless Witch Hazel plans on getting a little smutty, no, I will not be reading smut.” With a hmph, you scroll through jk.seagull’s blog. “I wonder if the new chapter is posted yet.”

Jungkook, too, picks up his phone with wide eyes when he hears you say “new chapter”. Your hype and excitement around the fanfic must be rubbing off on him.

But unfortunately for you, there is no new post since the one you saw before class. You make a sad booboo face, but it isn’t the end of the world either. You’ll just have to reread the series from the beginning as you wait for either Witch Hazel to be updated or Jungkook to finish the project. Whichever happens first.

“Wait, I think the seagull guy just posted something.”

You’ve never jumped onto your phone so quick when Jungkook mentions the seagull guy. It isn’t a new chapter of Witch Hazel, but instead another small text post.

“sorry for not updating witch hazel today like i said i would!! i was bombarded with an unexpected art assignment;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;”

Your sad booboo face disappears. It seems you’re not the only one struggling to find balance between the arts and the need to satisfy others. “Isn’t it funny that he’s an art student too?”

“Haha, yeah…” Jungkook’s voice fades as he returns to his portrait.

“Maybe that’s why I like his work so much,” you say, clicking back to the very first chapter of Witch Hazel where Snow is helping out those who she had unintentionally scared away with her witchcraft. “He just gets it.”

“He gets what?”

With the biggest yawn, you shrug because you don’t really know how to put it into words. It just feels as though you and him think alike. And the thought of that is comforting enough to put you to rest until Jungkook finishes up the project.

“Y/N.” You hear things shuffling around in your half-asleep state. When you rise from mysterious pile of blankets on top of you, you see Jungkook putting his art supplies away and clearing space on the floor for him to camp out since you’ve apparently claimed his bed.

“Did you finish?” You check the time in the dimly lit room, and you’re shocked to see it’s past midnight.

“Yeah.” He pulls your scrunchie out of his hair and drops it into your palm. “Thank you for your service.”

“Keep it.” You slide the hair tie onto the boy’s wrist when you notice he looks a little different somehow. The hoodie he was wearing earlier is replaced with a plain white tee, and his torn jeans have become grey sweatpants. The unspoken reality of you stay over at the boy’s apartment is slowly becoming realized. “In exchange, I’d like to see how you’d draw me.”

“Already done,” he says, jogging to his desk and back to you with a page from his sketchbook in hand. “I drew you as a superhero.”

“What kind of superhero?” You kick the blankets off of you and reach for the drawing, but of fucking course, Jungkook pulls it back real quick just when you were about to snatch it. “Let me see!”

He keeps it hidden behind his back for a while until he gets a little too cocky and dangles it above where you’re sitting on the bed. It would be too predictable for you to reach for the hand with drawing in it, so you decide to aim for the other arm to trap him in.

But rather than latching onto his arm, you catch only a piece of the scrunchie around his wrist, causing you both to lose balance. Your back hits the soft bedding as you stare up into the eyes of the boy who just so happened to land on top of you. Aha, you finally figure out why he looked a little different after you woke up. No glasses, just his handsome brown eyes.

You’d give yourself a pat on the back for figuring that out if you weren’t distracted by the drawing of you as a “superhero”. You were expecting something tough like the Avengers or Sailor Moon or even Izuku Midoriya. But instead you see someone who looks very much like yourself with a guitar and yellow flower crown.

“That’s not a superhero,” you say quietly.

“There are people who would feel otherwise.” Jungkook plops down next to you on his stomach.

“Like who?”

“Like people you share your music with.”

You bite your lip before rolling off the bed to run and get something. When you hop back onto the bed, you drop a pencil into Jungkook’s hand make him hold it with his pinky out like he had shown you earlier. You do the same with another pencil and link your pinky to his once more.

“Promise me you won’t tell anyone what I’m about to tell you.”

#bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts imagines #jungkook x reader #btsboulangerie #jungkook fanfic #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook #bts #bangtan #witch hazel

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

Text

CSI:Rogers and Barnes- The Serious Serial Cereal Killer

Episode 2- A Sequins Of Unfortunate Events

Co written with @icanfeelastormbrewing

Episode Summary: Contains some sequins and a dumbass Steve as we flash back to THAT night (which is why most of it is in italics) and we see the real reason Katie’s a little pissed at him! Fasten your belts, this is a long one but we think it’s worth it. Episode Warnings: Bad Language words. SMUT (in an elevator and then in a bedroom) NSFW and no under 18s. A bit of angst and feelings and…yeah, stooped with two os. LONG episode but necessary cos, well, when is smut not needed???

Episode Pairings: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark (yeah she likes his ass in this episode but only because it’s mostly a flashback…and we challenge anyone not to want to shake him hard at the end!)

Song for Episode: Slow Hands by Niall Horan

A/N: This entire series contains dark humour (CSI + Brooklyn 99=CSI Steeb) Avengers and Stark Spangled Banner Easter Eggs and jokes. You don’t need to have read the SSB series to understand or enjoy this, but we’ve used the Universe to spin this off from so somethings might puzzle a few of you if you ain’t, but feel free to ask.

Also, our knowledge of American Policing and Brooklyn is limited, so bear with us if we slip up, but at the end of the day this is a fiction so we’ll claim any mistakes as creative license!!

Oh and I just wanna give some BIG recognition for my lovely co-writer…she’s written most of this Episode. (I just provided the smut and some editing coz I’m a ho!) And it’s beautiful and clever and she deserves some praise especially as English isn’t her first language!!

As always we live for re-blogs and comments

CSI Rogers and Barnes Master List

“Hey Cap…” Thor nodded to Steve as he approached the bar where most of his team were stood, chatting.

“Hi fellas…can I get any of you a drink?”

They all nodded and thanked him, stating their orders. Steve turned to pay and at that point he heard Thor give a low whistle

“Holy shit…” he mumbled at the same time Clint also cursed.

“Damned…she looks good!”

“Oh for fucks sake come on guys…” Tony let out a sigh “That’s my little sister! Epically not cool.” Steve took a breath and turned to glance at Katie, his eyes widening. He couldn’t argue with Clint or Thor, she looked good. Better than good actually, stunning even. She was dressed in a tight, long sleeved green sequinned dress that was pretty damned short now he studied it. Not that he was complaining, particularly when she turned to speak to someone and he got a glimpse of how it curved over her shapely ass perfectly, leaving her toned legs on display, which looked even longer thanks to the patent black high-heel courts she was wearing. She continued her path into the room, her two-toned (“It’s called balayage, Stevie, you idiot!”) honey and dark brown hair cascaded over her shoulders in wave after wave of shiny, brunette locks which bounced as she walked, and he could see all the way from where he was that her eyes were lidded with some kind of gold sparkle and her lips were a dark, blood red.

Fuck! It was enough to make his pants feel tight. Really tight in fact. Steve thought she was pretty anyway, he’d be blind not to notice, and he’d seen her dolled up on so many occasions but tonight…well, tonight was something else.

She stopped, smiling and grinned, giving Romanoff a hug and the two women headed over to a table to the right.

“You’re catching flies…” Sam’s voice whispered in Steve’s ear. Steve turned instantly to look at him.

“No, that’s…I wasn’t…”

“You don’t have to pretend to me, man.” Sam grinned, taking the beer that Steve passed him as he dished the drinks out. “Pretty obvious you got feelings for the girl that go beyond friendship.”

Steve sighed and looked at Sam, preparing some kind of denial but he didn’t get the chance.

“You know she feels the same way, right?” Sam asked, “I can tell by the way she eye fucks you every time you’re in the same room.” “Sam.” Steve nearly choked on his bottle “Stop.”

“I’m just saying…” Sam grinned, “Tis the season for giving after all, if you get my drift…”

“Jesus…” Steve mumbled as Sam winked, turning to talk to Tony.

Steve fell into a conversation with Bruce, Clint and Thor about their plans for the holidays. Clint and his family were heading over to Minnesota to his in-laws, Thor was going to his Girlfriends seeing as this was the first Christmas his brother would spend behind bars, something that Steve could tell the man was a little bit upset about.

“You gotta admit.” Bruce looked at Thor, “Your brother…man, he’s not all there. His brain is a bag of cats.” “He’s still my brother.”

“Man, he killed 18 people in 2 days.” Clint looked at him.

“He’s adopted.” Thor shrugged.

“Did you forget the rest of your clothes or…” Steve heard Tony’ quip and turned round to see Katie stood in front of her brother. “I can see what you had for breakfast young lady.”

“Piss off Tony.” she shot back, and he quirked an eyebrow, looking at Sam.

“Rude.” he mumbled.

“I think you look great.” Sam said, “Doesn’t she Steve?”

Steve shot Sam a filthy look before he turned to his best friend, smiling “Stunning, as always.” “Smooth Rogers.” she grinned at him, making a deal of looking him up and down “Looking pretty fly yourself!”

He glanced down at the light blue button down he was wearing underneath a tweed blazer, coupled with dark Diesel Jeans and brown brogue boots before looking at her, grinning cheekily “Well my best friend is also my self-appointed stylist and she knows her stuff, what can I say?”

“You can thank her by buying her a drink.” Katie winked back and Steve laughed, turning to order her a martini. “Gin…” “Not vodka, yeah I know…” he finished for her as she bumped her hip against his. She curled and arm round his waist and he found his dropping round her shoulder, giving her a friendly squeeze before they released one another.

As always happens at parties, everyone started to drift off to speak to people they knew and take the time to catch up. Katie and Steve remained at the bar and the party was in full swing by the time Katie finished her drink and Steve drained his second beer. She ordered them another round as Steve took a quick look around. The hip, rooftop bar they were in, The Westlight, was located in the William Vale, a 5 star hotel in the heart of the City, and it was crammed with people celebrating. This year the local authorities of New York had decided to indulge Brooklyn security forces and had decided to throw an over the top Christmas party for both 99th and 101st units of NYPD and the Brooklyn section of New York's Fire Department and had hired the entire bar. Katie had joked about getting a room in the hotel simply so she could pretend she was a right high-roller for a night and a day but had soon balked at the fact they were over $300. Mind you, Steve had to give it to them. The views the place offered of the New York Sky Line was something else.

It almost made up for the obscene prices at the bar. Almost.

With a thanks he took the beer that was slid his way and they resumed their conversation, talk between the pair of them easy as always, and they launched into a discussion about Steve’s new car which he had collected earlier that day.

“So you drove?” Katie looked at him and he shrugged “Dude, it’s the Christmas party…” “Yeah and I can leave it here if I decide to.” Steve shrugged “It’ll be safe enough with the valet...” “Why didn’t you just get a cab?” “Hey, look, I’ve been waiting 12 weeks for that baby.” he said, looking at her “I wanted to drive it.” “You know, your obsession with cars is kinda a little bit sad” she grinned.

“I could say the same thing about you and shoes.” “Hey, at least my obsession fits in a wardrobe…”

“Yeah, they also fit in my hand when I end up carrying them, and you, home from a night out when you can’t walk in them anymore…” he looked at her.

She narrowed her eyes playfully and was about to quip something back when they were interrupted.

"Having fun Kiddo?" Tony asked and Katie turned to her brother as he made a gesture to her with his hand "Just roll with me." he mouthed.

Katie smiled and raised an eyebrow at him. "What's up with you, Tone?" she asked amused, sharing a side glance with Steve who was now also smiling at Tony's awkward face.

"Shhh, trying to get rid of..." he was about to explain but was interrupted by an overexcited Peter Parker.

"Whooooa, this party is pretty awesome Mr. Stark! Don't you think?" he piped. "I mean, this is... Look at all those people, they are... there are hundreds of them, and the place is just..." he continued babbling while grabbing Tony by his arm and looking all around him.

"Yeah, you're very articulate, aren't you?" Tony deadpanned.

Katie giggled softly "Glad you're having fun Peter."

Peter, who hadn't noticed that Tony stood beside Katie and Steve by the bar, turned to her and couldn't help but check her out in awe "Oh my God! Katie, I mean, Miss Stark, you look hot!"

Katie started laughing like crazy after Peter's remark and Steve shook his head at him with a grin.

“Ok Underoos, time to shut up that squealing mouth of yours before I stick a coaster down your throat." Tony said glaring at him, picking up a bar mat from the surface and waving it threateningly in Peter’s direction.

Peter, who was now blushing fiercely, tried to come up with an apology "Oh, I'm sorry Miss Stark, you're not hot…”

Katie was looking at Peter with a raised eyebrow and an amused expression on her face, she had a soft spot for the boy. Tony was now getting annoyed and rolled his eyes "Oh, come on...."

"Sorry, that's not what I meant, I mean yeah you look hot,... Oh, God... I mean, you look great tonight Miss Stark...." he stuttered and turned to Steve who now gave him a wide smile.

"Peter." he greeted the kid.

"Cap…Captain" he greeted back a mixture of shyness at his boss and embarrassment for the ongoing conversation he was trying to get back on the right track much to Tony's dismay.

“Just Steve outside the station Peter…” Steve smiled at him.

It was then that Sam approached the group, bottle of beer in his hand and moving his head to the beat of the music which was blasting from the speakers all over the club.

"Is he misbehaving?" he asked Tony, Katie and Steve with a fake serious face."Are you misbehaving, kid?" he turned to Peter now patting him on the back. "You know you get cranky when you don't get your juice box."

"Yeah, kid's on a sugar rush." Tony quipped.

"Ok, let's get you some hot cocoa short stack." Sam offered.

"I'm not a kid Mr Wilson, you know I'm 21..." Peter started rambling again as Sam took him by his arm and both disappeared among the sea of people.

"If you excuse me, gentlemen, I'm going to greet some people" Katie said to Tony and Steve as she also started to make her way towards a group of people who were perched on a table by the large windows which looked out over the City.

Steve waved her goodbye "See you, later". And turned to Tony who was now ordering his third tumbler of Scotch and one for Bruce who joined them moments later. Steve found himself trying to pay attention to what the two men were telling him, but although he was nodding and humming in agreement with Tony's bragging and Bruce’s slightly more modest chat, he didn't have a clue to what either man was saying.

He couldn't keep his eyes off Katie. He had tried but failed spectacularly. He was continuously gazing in her direction where she was now talking to her former friends from the 99th. Peralta, Diaz, Boyle and Jeffers welcomed her immediately, Jeffers standing up to give her a huge hug before he she slid onto the bench seat next to him, joining in the conversation. A few moments later, Boone from the NYFD sauntered over and the table greeted him and he made to sit down and join them, which was quite funny to Steve as he knew from Katie’s tales that Peralta and him had a long history of confrontations.

But what wasn’t funny to Steve was the next man that joined them. Steve hadn't seen him before so he presumed the guy was from the Fire Department, which seemed to be confirmed when he reached over, shaking Boone’s hand before Boone proceeded to gesture around the table. Mystery man then shook everyone’s hand in turn, but when it came to Katie he saw the man’s entire body language change and he kissed the back of her hand before gesturing to the seat next to her. She nodded, smiling and moved up slightly to allow him to sit down.

Steve watched as they struck up a conversation and the sight of the tall, well-built, really quite handsome man leaning over to say something into her ear was enough to send Steve to a place he had never been before, certainly not when it came to his best friend. Was it protectiveness, annoyance at the memory of shitweasel Ward? Was it concern about her safety, after all she didn’t know the guy did she? Was it exasperation at the guy's bold mannerisms as his arm curled round the back of the bench she was sat on, his entire body angled towards her? Was it uneasiness due to the fact that she actually seemed to be pretty comfortable around the guy and looked like she was enjoying the attention? Was it....?

Oh God, it was, wasn't it? It suddenly struck him like lightning.

"Are you Ok, Cap?" he heard Tony ask him. "You're staring blankly at us and clenching you jaw. I mean, I know the gadgets Brucey and I have put together are pretty awesome, but still..."

Steve swallowed thickly before he composed himself. "Excuse me Tony, Bruce…need to find the restroom."

With that he started walking away from the men, heading to the door that led to the outside roof terrace, not looking back. He pushed the door open, the cold December air hitting him like a sledge hammer, but he hardly noticed. He was too busy trying to make sense of the million and one thoughts which were careering through his brain, but no matter how much he tried to tell himself otherwise, it was no use. He knew exactly what that feeling that had swept over him when he’d watched Katie was.

He was jealous.

If he was being perfectly honest, it wasn’t the fact that he was jealous that had him so distressed, it was the realization that all those feelings he had been harbouring for Katie over the last ten years had hit him right between the eyes when he least expected them.

Steve leaned his arms on the railing of the balcony and ducked his head between them, letting out a oft groan. His mind was wandering back and forth in time, searching a rational explanation for what he was feeling. But what can be explained rationally when it comes to feelings? He closed his eyes and sighed. Feelings developed slowly, didn't they? They didn't just hit you all at once in a bar in Brooklyn just because a pretty girl made one hell of an entrance in a tight sequined number.

He straightened himself and gazed into the beautifully lit skyline of the city, his analytical mind working at full speed, roaming through all those years he had known Katie. Ten years. Ten years they had been friends, best friends even. So close that everyone laughed at the fact that they seemed just like a married couple.

And now that he came to think of it there were those small things that would likely have given him away in the eyes of others all through that time. How he hated Ward for starters, he had never trusted him. How he would look away whenever he kissed her or even hugged her. Katie had teased him about PDAs making him uncomfortable but it wasn’t that. It was because those particular ones did.

He had never been uncomfortable around Katie, in fact he had quite liked all those funny little feelings he got when she laughed or teased him, flirted with him slightly in the way she always did. He smiled remembering how he had flushed whenever she behaved like that with him, it was a warming feeling that had made his cheeks red every now and then that he had simply put down to awkwardness or embarrassment. But it was nothing of the sort, it was just him having feelings for Katie, and those feelings had been there for some time now.

Almost ten years in fact. So, when he thought about it, it had been a pretty slow burn after all.

"Fuck" he whispered at the realization Sam had hit the nail on the head.

What now? How did he act on those feelings? That is if he should act on them in the first place. What was that Sam had said? Did she have feelings for him too? Did he want to know? Too many questions and the only thing he knew for sure was that he wasn't gonna get an answer to any of them out there. He decided to get himself together, go back inside and play it cool. As cool as he could manage that is, considering that the scrawny Brooklyn kid he once was usually liked to make an appearance in situations like this.

He could do this…he could do this… get it together Rogers.

He pushed himself back from the railing and turned round

"Let's see how it goes" he whispered to himself before opening the door that led back to the bar.

He needed a drink was the first thing he thought while he made his way through the people, greeting some colleagues and acquaintances alongside. Yup, some Dutch courage…even if he still had no idea to what purpose.

He found Bruce, Thor and James Rhodes, or Rhodey as they called him, Head of Relations with the Press, by the bar. When he reached the three men, he ordered another beer from the barman gesturing with his hand.

"Gentlemen." Steve greeted them. "Enjoying yourselves?"

"Yeah, some more than others." Rhodey pointed with his head to Thor who had now his left arm and head slumped on the bar counter.

Bruce, who was looking at a certain redhead dancing the night away in the middle of the dance floor with Wanda, Rosa, Gina and Amy from the 99, turned to see what Rhodey was talking about and asked "Is he sleeping?"

"No, I'm pretty sure he's dead." Rhodey deadpanned.

And with that Thor snored and woke himself up, stumbling on the stool he was half seated. Steve scoffed and swept his eyes around the club searching for Katie only to find her still seated chatting with the fancy fireman. He turned around to face the counter and grab his beer in an attempt to calm himself and steady his hands. He saw Thor's now empty glass there, in an almost reflex action he took one of the ice cubes that still hadn't melt and put it in his mouth, munching it instantly, the crunch satisfying.

Bruce looked at him at the sound of his teeth and jaws grinding ice and with a raised eyebrow asked "What's with you and ice?"

"Childhood trauma." he said sharply.

"Yeah, I get it. I still have issues with green veggies." Bruce said shyly. "They still make me angry."

"You seem quite a calm guy" Steve said now smiling at Bruce.

"No, that's my secret Cap, I'm always angry." Bruce retorted.

They suddenly heard a loud thud and looked down finding Thor, who had slipped from the stool, sprawled on the floor.

"Now, he's dead." Rhodey said laughing while Steve, Bruce and Sam, who had come to the rescue, helped the big man up.

"I'm good. I'm good." Thor said and started dancing to the music and singing loudly, and out of tune, to the song that was playing while giving a thumbs up to the DJ in the cabin.

"What's that awful noise?" Tony who had now joined the small group asked.

"Blondie here, murdering song after song." Rodney replied.

"Thor! Thor!" Tony called. "Thor, for fuck sake, will you please stop squealing? You think you're a full tilt diva but your voice is hitting on my head like a hammer!"

Thor stopped singing but continued moving his arms and head and stomping his feet to the rhythm of the music. Steve laughed softly at the clumsy ways of such a big man and when he looked up he smiled at the vision of Clint approaching them the team ladies in tow.

"Heads up, everybody" Clint yelled impersonating some kind of MC, "Let's have a toast for the 101st."

"Sure thing" Tony said gesturing to the barman and ordering a drink for everybody to toast.

Steve tensed up when he felt Katie by his side, her arm brushing against the fabric of his shirt.

"Having fun, Cap?" she asked with a playful smile.

"Not as much as you." he replied face-palming himself internally at his own reply.

He saw Katie look at him with a frown and her mouth wide open. She was about to ask him something, probably what had come over him, but she couldn't as at that very moment Tony came back with a tray full of champagne flutes for everyone.

"Ok, raise your glasses everyone and let's hear it for the Brooklyn 101" Clint yelled.

"For the Brooklyn 101" everybody yell back clinking glasses and sipping from them.

They all turned at the loud sound of a glass breaking and saw Thor grinning as he looked at the shards on the floor, before he glanced up and with a huge bellow shouted "Another!"

The staff of the club, however, weren't that willing to laugh at Thor's shenanigans as they came to gather the broken glass to avoid someone being badly cut. Clint, Sam and Rhodey took Thor outside to breath some fresh air. Natasha dragged Wanda and Bruce back to the dance floor. And Tony went to the restroom or as he put it, to take a leak.

Now that they were alone Katie pulled on Steve's hand and headed for a more secluded table at the far end of the club. He let her tug him along and settled onto the bench besides her.

"Ok, what was that about?" she shot at him.

"What was what?" Steve asked trying to avoid giving her a straight answer, allowing him a moment to think about how he was going to play his cards. Was he going to play them? His mind was in turmoil. He felt a bit dizzy, he had had too many beers, he knew. Luckily, that nutrition programme he took part in during college had gifted him some sort of increased metabolism which prevented him from getting overly drunk, well, Thor scale of drunk anyway, that was unless he hit the hard stuff.

"You know what I mean Steve, don't play dumb with me." Katie was raising her voice now.

"I only said you seemed to be enjoying the company." Steve shrugged trying to appear relaxed.

"Of course I was! It's been a while since I'd been able to catch up with the boys." she said. "I was having a great time watching Peralta and Boone roast each other." She laughed. "See what I did there." She winked.

Steve merely raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Oh! Wait.." Katie smiled amused. "You're talking about.... Yes, you are, aren't you?"

Steve didn't answer, he continued looking at her, not sure if he wanted to know more about the mystery fancy fireman.

"He's a friend Steve, well sort of, we hadn't actually met before tonight." Katie said softly like she was talking to an angry child.

Steve frowned, not understanding how one can be friends with someone and have never actually met.

"His brother in law is friends with Tony, freak scientists stuff..." Katie explained now. "You must have heard about him, Reed.... Reed Richards?"

Steve stared blankly at her, trying to match a face with that name in his mind.

“He developed a lot of the forensics awareness training new officers do.” she said.

“Ah, yeah…vaguely…” Steve nodded, the image of a tall, dark haired man crossed his mind.

"Johnny is a fireman, he works under Boone’s chain." Katie continued while stirring her drink with the straw. "He seems nice, we've only been chatting..." she suddenly stopped and looked up at Steve. "Hang on! Why am I explaining myself to you anyway?" she asked squinting her eyes at Steve.

Steve hesitated for a few seconds and was about to provide her with a feasible answer that would soothe her when he felt someone slap him on his back.

"Hey, Cap" Tony squealed and turned to face his sister.

"Been talking to Fury, kiddo. The Pirate says you're considering DC after all." he said looking at Katie trying to keep his legs steady and leaning on her shoulder. "Warn a brother next time, will you? You made me look like a fool." he slurred and turned to the dance floor trying to focus his sight.

"Hey, Bruce, good moves..." he said now leaving the friends sat there, walking off to join his team mates on the dancefloor, moving his arms suggestively over his head.

"What was that?" Steve snapped. "About DC? You've made your mind up?"

"I'd be stupid not to go. But hey, nothing's set up in stone. I'm just considering it" she answered trying to lighten up the mood.

"I didn't think you'd be serious about the role." Steve demeanour was getting bleaker.

"Why?" Katie asked frowning at him. "Of course, I'm serious, Steve. You told me there's no Sergeant vacancy in the unit, not as a Detective and I don't wanna go back to uniform."

"I know. It's just I didn't think they would actually offer it to you." he said now trying to sound as convincing as possible.

He wasn't prepared to let her go. To let her leave him. Not now. What if? What if history repeats? Peggy left him for the chance of pursuing higher ranks at the force. She had broken him and now he wasn't sure if he would be able to cope with Katie leaving him as well. He had known Katie way more years than he had known Peggy after all.

"You didn’t think they’d offer it to me? Why’s that, Steve?" Katie was getting visibly annoyed now. "Because I'm not good enough?"

"No! That's not what I meant!" Steve couldn't help but yell back.

"That’s the second time you spoken to me out of turn tonight" she said, her nostrils flaring. "I'm done."

Katie stood up and pushed between him and the table, grabbing her purse and stalking over the room heading for the door.

Steve fumbled a bit and watched her go away. "Shit" he yelled behind gritted teeth. Slamming his beer back onto the table he jumped up and started to walk towards the door, needing to catch her before it was too late.

On his way across the dance floor, well a straight line is always the fastest way to your target, he heard Tony say "Uh-oh, Kiddo rant scale currently at 7..." while Natasha turned to Clint and deadpanned "They need to bone and get it out of their system."

Just what he needed to hear now. Damned his better than normal hearing. Steve emerged into the entrance hall of the bar floor but there was no trace of Katie. He looked up and saw the light of the elevator signalling it was going down. With no time to spare he opened the door that lead to the stairs and rushed down two steps at a time.

When he reached the ground floor he was panting as he burst through the door into the lobby of the hotel and stopped in his tracks as he spotted Katie putting on her coat by the reception desk. Thank God, her stop at the cloakroom had provided him with a few precious minutes.

He walked to the reception trying to make up his mind on what to say. When he caught up with her, he heard her ask for a cab to the receptionist.

"Cancel that." he said to the receptionist.

"Don't you dare." she looked at the receptionist.

"Cancel it!" he said again, his voice this time stern.

“Grrr!” with an angry growl she turned and glared at him "Fuck off, Steve." she snarled and started to walk to the main door "You're an asshole." she said before stepping out and slamming the door, not caring if she nearly clipped Steve's face.

Steve followed her and grabbed her arm. "Come here." he said taking her away from the brightly lit area by the main entrance to the hotel to a more intimate spot a bit further along that was slightly dimmer.

Katie flinched slightly at the strength of his grip and Steve noticed and let her loose. "I'm sorry." he said raising his palms. "I'm sorry, doll" he said again. "Just talk to me, right?"

"Why don't you support me? I thought of all the people you'd be the most thrilled about me having this opportunity, Steve." she said wrapping her coat around her chest, a hurt look in her eyes.

"Of course, I support you." Steve said quietly. "You're an amazing Detective. It's not that..." he hesitated, not knowing how to carry on.

"Then, what is it? Explain it to me because you've been acting weird all night" she said her green eyes pleading him.

He was well damned fucked. Point of no return.

"When I told you about that opportunity last month, you were all for it so I applied, so what changed?" she continued trying to make her point seeing as he wasn't saying anything.

Steve closed his eyes for a few seconds and then opened them again.

"You" he simply said.

"Me? I've changed?" Katie asked not understanding what he was trying to say.

"No. Not you..." he paused before continuing. "God, this is messy..." he rubbed the back of his neck. "The way I see you." he finally said looking directly into those beautiful green eyes. “That’s changed.”

"Oh" Katie managed to mutter. She was suddenly silent, searching into his blue eyes. After a moment, which seemed an eternity to Steve, she stepped forward and whispered.

"Say it."

"Say what?" Steve asked still looking into her eyes.

"Use your words, Stevie. Tell me what you mean." she softly encouraged him.

Oh God, that damned pet name…

"Can I ask you a question?" he said, licking his lips nervously.

"You just did, but I'll give you another go." she smiled.

He rolled his eyes but smiled back at her before saying "Sam told me before... that you have..." he paused.

"That I have what?" she asked.

"That you have feelings for me." he finished.

"Oh" she simply said, her eyes wide. Her cheeks flushed and she bit her lower lip. "Did he? Are those gonna be his last words?" she said with a shy smile not losing contact with his eyes.

"Is it true?" he asked, a tinge of hope in his words, bolstered by the fact she hadn’t denied it. "Do you feel it too? I mean, when we're hanging around, when we spend time together? Because it feels more to me, like we’re more than just friends…"

"I feel it when you're not around, Stevie." she said gently, cutting him off. Her eyes still locked onto his.

Steve breath hitched at her admission, a shy smile spread across his face.

"Steve, I..." she started to say but fell into silence, her face was now really flushed and so was her neck, in the way it always did when she was feeling slightly awkward or embarrassed or excited.

"Use your words, doll." he said softly, smiling at her. His attempt to ease the tension worked and she giggled and looked down, tucking her hair behind both her ears before she glanced back up at him, desire now sparkling in her eyes.

"Steve, I've liked you since the day we met. I think you're the most amazing person in the world. You're gorgeous inside and out..." she breathed deeply before continuing "After everything, well you make me feel safe like.... like I'm home…I just never thought in a million years that a guy like you would ever look at me like that.”

Now it was Steve who fell deadly silent. He pondered Katie's words for a moment and gave her a shy side smile. “You have no idea how beautiful you are do you?”

She gave a soft chuckle, shaking her head as she looked down muttering the word “Charmer.” as he reached out and gently tipped her head up so she was looking at him. His eyes bounced across both of hers for a second or so before he gently tilted her face up, angling her head. The distance between them closed…until she was knocked sideways, stumbling a little. He caught her and turned to glare at the culprit.

“Heyyyy!” Boyle smiled, swinging his arms out to the side “Didn’t see you there…” “He’s drunk…” Peralta apologised, “And so am I…we’re gonna get food…” Katie nodded at them both and with the hand that was curled around her waist, Steve gently squeezed her hip.

“NINE NINE!” Peralta yelled, punching the air as he left, Boyle whooping and repeating the chant as he tripped slightly before they rounded the corner. As they disappeared from sight Steve bent over and softly spoke into her ear.

“Shall I take you home, Doll?”

“Thought you were never gonna ask…” she said, not looking at him. He squeezed her hip again and together they strode back towards the valet, reaching into his wallet for the ticket, neither of them saying a word.

As soon as she was in the car she kicked off her shoes and let out a groan. “My feet are killing me…” she said, placing her feet up in front of her. She looked around the inside of the car, not actually having been inside it yet seeing as he had only picked it up that afternoon and gave a hum of appreciation.

“It’s nice…not as sexy as your mustang but I like it.” she said.

“Sweetheart, I haven’t had that mustang in years” he chuckled.

“Yeah I know.” she sighed “I liked that car, I still can’t believe you got rid of it.”

“Thought it was time I grew up a little…” he shrugged, looking at her.

“You’ll be driving around in a Prius soon, like Brian off Family Guy…” “Piss off…” he laughed as she let out a chuckle, flexing her dainty painted toes as they rest on the leather of the dash.

“Where did you this one from again?”

“It was imported from Germany, now get your feet off the dash.” She looked at him, a coy smirk on her face and moved her long legs one by one, placing her feet in the foot well. How the fuck she made such a simple movement as much of a turn on as she did, he had no idea. Had she always been such a teasing minx?

The rest of the car drive was spent in a comfortable silence. Well, as comfortable as it can be with a semi-lob on. His fingers were impatiently tapping on the arm rest between them and Katie reached out and pulled his hand onto her lap, gently running her finger tips over his knuckles as his palm lay against the bare, warm skin of her thigh. His jeans began to feel even tighter and it was all he could do to stop his hand wandering further up her skirt as he drove. Every so often she’d shoot him a knowing look, her eyes sparkling, and he’d simply grin back, or try and ignore her, keeping his eyes on the road.

Thankfully her place was nearer than his so he found a spare space outside her block and climbed out, opening the passenger side for her.

“Thanks.” she said, her voice quiet but oh so loaded and fuck, it made his trouser predicament even worse. He walked behind her, up the few steps into her building where she unlocked the door and dropped her keys into her pocket. His arm once more around her waist, they waited impatiently for the elevator.

No sooner had the elevator doors shut than Steve's final tendril of self-control snapped and he spun, pushing Katie back by her shoulders. She let out a soft squeak of surprise as his hand slid up to the back of her head, fingers winding into her hair, holding her face steady. There was a split second where she gazed up at him, her eyes bright with a lust he had never seen before, and then she bit her bottom lip and he was done for. Their lips met and God it was everything he had imagined it to be, and more. His lips massaged against hers, softly at first but then he felt her hands sliding up round his neck as she pulled him to her harder, and Steve couldn't help the soft groan that left his mouth. He felt her lips curve into a smirk and he took the chance, tongue sweeping across her bottom lip. Obligingly she gave him what he wanted, and depend the kiss even more, her mouth opening to grant him access. She tasted slightly sweet, the remnants of her last drink invaded his senses as his tongue fought hers for dominance and holy fucking shit he didn’t ever think he'd ever been kissed like this before in his life.

Pressing into her more he moved his hands to gently grab at her hips, hands dropping to her ass where he hauled her up, pressing her back into the elevator wall. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he pushed up against her, hands gently creeping up the hem of her dress, fingers softly caressing the outside of her thighs and his lips moved from hers to the pulse point of her neck and she gave a soft, sultry sigh. Steve knew he was an absolute gonner and he couldn’t help but react to her noises and movements by pushing against her and the noise she made as his denim clad crotch rubbed up against the fabric of her underwear was fucking sinful. His cock twitched and somewhere in his brain his logical mind desperately fought for a shard of restraint because they were still in fucking elevator after all... But it was her that stopped, quite suddenly too. Steve felt her tap him lightly on his shoulder and he moved from where he had been softly nipping at her neck to look at her, questioningly, wondering if she was having second thoughts. She bit her lip and nodded behind him which made him turn, and he saw the elevator door had opened and a small, blonde woman was looking at the pair of them, eyebrow raised, mouth dropped in slightly shock. "Shit." Steve mumbled as Katie gave a very un-ladylike snort as he set her on her feet. He bent down to retrieve her purse for her as she straightened out her dress. She took the purse in one hand and reached for his with her other, lacing her fingers between his. As they passed she nodded to the woman and said her name, but all too late Steve realised he hadn't heard it as his brain was still trying to catch up. Not wanting to be rude he nodded to the woman "Neighbour..." "Have a good evening..." she replied, not even bothering to hide the smirk from her face. "Did you seriously just say neighbour?" Katie snorted as she crossed the hall towards her door. "Well I don't know her name..." he said as she turned to face him.

"What?" She blinked, shaking her head. "Sharon! I literally said it like 3 seconds ago!" "And you think I was listening?" He said, arching an eyebrow as he placed both hands on the door, palms flat at either side of her head, caging her with his strong arms. His face was inches from hers again and she grinned "You gonna give me a chance to find my keys or just kick my door in?" With an arch of his eyebrow his left hand slid into the right pocket of her coat, and he pulled them out, hanging them in front of her face. Not taking her eyes off his she reached out to take them, before turning around to slip the key in the lock. Steve gently swept her hair off her neck and trailed hot kisses up towards her ear. With a sigh she rolled her head to the side as his mouth grazed a path to her jaw line before he placed a soft kiss at the side of her mouth.

“Open the door sweetheart” he said, his voice low and she jerked back into action, turning the key. Steve leaned over, pushing the door open and she stepped inside, Steve following. The door opened into the hallway which was dimly lit by a lamp on the table to the side of the door. Katie tossed her keys onto it, along with her purse as Steve clicked the door shut, leaning back on it as he watched her turn to him, eyes heavy as she looked up at him. There was a moment’s pause before he stepped forwards, hands creeping up to cradle her face as he gently pressed his lips to hers, the kiss a stark contrast to the urgent ones they’d shared moments before. Soft, sensual, his large hands caressing the side of her cheeks and neck as she leaned up into him eagerly. The kiss broke and he ran his nose against hers, pulling back slightly.

“You sure?” he said, his voice a whisper, needing to know she still wanted to go through with this, cross that final line. Without a word she turned, tugging on his hand, leading him to the right down the hall towards her room. As the reached the doorway he pulled her back towards him, spinning her round making her giggle as she fell into his chest, his arms wrapping around her as he bent to kiss her again, the pair of them blindly stumbling into the room, which is when Steve felt a searing pain in his shin as it collided pain fully with the wooden doorframe.

“Mother fucker…” he cursed, releasing Katie as he bent to rub at his shin, hopping on one leg into the room as Katie laughed whilst a plethora of curses that would make a sailor blush tumbled from his lips.

“Awww want me to kiss it better?” she teased as she undid her coat and tossed it over the back of the chair that sat in front of her vanity unit.

“Oh, you’re gonna kiss summink…” he snarked back as he kicked the door to the room shut, smirking at the look on her face as she arched an eyebrow.

“Very presumptuous of you Captain.” she teased.

“Think we’re a bit past the presuming stage don’t you?” he said, closing the distance between them again, on arm snaking round her waist as he pulled her back to him. Her hands ran up his chest to the lapels on his jacket as she pushed it back off his shoulders and Steve moved his arms allowing it to fall to the floor. Next she was working at his shirt, tugging the bottom of it out of his jeans as his mouth claimed hers again, hungrily. He felt the soft brush of her fingers as she worked the buttons undone, pushing it open and her warm hands slid over the planes of his stomach, travelling slightly downward towards the buckle of his jeans.

“ah ah…” he said, breaking the kiss and grabbing at her hands. “Your turn…”

“But I’m only wearing one thing…” she pouted, looking up at him. “You’re like…”

“You have an argument for everything…” he said, his hands sliding up the back of her dress, feeling for the zip.

“Do not.” she shot back and he sighed in exasperation.

“Argumentative brat, as always…look, does this thing even have a zip?”

She laughed, “No…”

He reached down to grab the hem, her breath catching slightly as his fingers brushed against her thighs but he didn’t argue as she held her arms up to allow him to pull the dress over her head. Steve gently reached out to brush her tousled, long waves back off her face before he glanced down, swallowing at the sight of her stood before him in heels and a matching black lace lingerie set.

“Fuck…” he mumbled, his hands reaching down to her hips, pulling her back flush to his body, kissing her again. This time when her hands fell to his belt buckle and undid it he didn’t object. He kicked off his boots as she worked his jeans open, her fingers grazing the skin just below his waist band and he bucked at her touch.

“So sensitive for such a big, tough guy…” she teased into his kiss and he gave a chuckle.

“You know I’m a big softie really…” he said

“Nothing soft about this…” she remarked, her hand reaching into her boxers and grasping his painfully hard cock, causing him to buck violently in response.

“Jesus Doll, give a guy some warning…” he stuttered out between his grit teeth.

“Where’s the fun in that?” she shot back.

Unable to take it anymore he moved, stepping out of his jeans and backed her to the bed, hands reaching round to unhook the clasp of her bra. As it fell away he gave another moan at her now bare chest in front to him, perfect pink skin on display.

“God you’re beautiful.” he said, eyes locking onto hers.

“Bet you say that to all the girls…” she teased back.

He snorted “They’re not exactly lining up sweetheart.” “More fool them…” she said, leaning up to kiss him again, her hands snaking round his neck. They both fell back onto the bed with a soft thud, and he moved her gently so she was led under him. She pulled away pushing on his shoulders and looked up at him as she propped herself up on her elbows.

“Socks.” “What?” he frowned.

“Take them off.”

“Katie, I-” “Steven, I’m not having sex with a guy who leaves his socks on.” Katie said, shaking her head “That’s just fucking weird.”

“You’re killing me doll, you know that?” he groaned. He sat up, shaking his head and pulled the offending garments off before he crawled back over the top of her. “Ok now?” “Yeah…” she nodded, grinning.

With a roll of his eyes he dropped his lips back to hers and kissed her again, hands gently tangling in her hair as he held her face still, lips moving from her lips to her jaw line to that spot on the neck he had noticed she’d appreciated him lavishing affection on before. She gave a soft moan, and her hips bucked upwards slightly, drawing a soft growl from his throat at the feeling as she pushed against him. His mouth moved downwards, lips and tongue circling the swell of her breast before he gently took a nipple into his mouth, listening to her soft keens as he teased her, his other hand sliding down over the curve of her hip, fingers brushing the skin just above her panty line. Without a word he slipped his fingers down, over her mound and she groaned again, arching her back.

“Fuck…” she mumbled, “Steve…”

He didn’t waste any time. His deft fingers began to play, coaxing more and more wetness from her as he went. He glanced up to see her head was thrown back against her pillow, eyes shut in utter bliss as she bit her lip.

“Look at me…” he said softly, moving so that his face was hovering over hers again, fingers still working. She opened those emeralds he felt he could drown in and her pupils were blown with desire. His fingers picked up their pace and he slid one, then two inside her, curling against her spot over and over again. He watched as her jaw slackened as her back arched and she let out a low keen.

“Stevie…” she panted “I..” her words trailed into a low gasp which turned into a groan as her back arched, her eyes fluttered shut and she convulsed underneath him, and he felt her tighten around him. Eventually she relaxed and her breathing evened out slightly and she looked up at him, a soft smile on her face before her hand slid up into his hair, bringing his face down so she could kiss him again.

Then it was a fast scramble to get both of them out of the last remaining, thin barriers of clothing before Steve nestled into the v of her legs, mouth nipping at her collar bone.

“Need you…” she purred into his hear and fuck, did he need her too.

“Need a…” he said, pulling back, fully intending to retrieve that little foil packet he always kept in his wallet, not that it ever saw the light of day mind, but she stopped him and shook her head.

“I’m ok, covered…that’s if…” “Yeah, I’m good…” he nodded, settling back over her. Her hand reached down between them, and she gently guided him towards where she wanted and as he looked up at her, a bit too quickly, his forehead collided with hers.

“Ow!” she spluttered out a giggle and he gave a groan. How was it that she’d managed to reduce him right back to that dumbass little kid from Brooklyn.

“Sorry…” he muttered, but she simply laughed again and pressed her lips to his.

“Don’t keep me waiting…” she said softly.

And Steve, never one for refusing to help a lady out, was happy to oblige. He worked into her with a steady, gently movement which made him shudder, dropping to his elbows over her as she gave a soft moan.

“Ok?” “Yeah…I’m good…” she said as he began to move, his thrusts slow and gently at first, hips rocking against hers. His lips met hers again in a sloppy kiss as she raked her hands down his back, nails digging into the skin, the bite of pain was like a hot wire to his groin and he gave a groan, picking up the pace slightly, her body moving with him with each thrust, skin sliding against skin, the soft sounds of sex and groans and whimpers filled the air and half the time Steve couldn’t tell whether it was her or him.

“More…” she begged softly, and he hooked his hand under her knee, wrapping her leg up round his waist allowing him to drive deeper and she gave a loud mewl underneath him as her nails dug into his shoulders as he moved faster, reading the signs she was giving him, his hips snapping back and forth with a needy desire, the carnal want he had for this woman consumed him and he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.

“Come on baby…” he said, his breath ragged on her ear as he gently sucked at that spot again, feeling her writhing underneath him. “I got you, let go…”

His breath caught slightly as she tipped her head to press her lips to his, the kiss heated and he swallowed the loud groan she made before her head fell back her hands gripping to his back as if her life depended on it.

“Stevie…I’m…gonna…” she managed to stutter before her mouth once more slackened and her sultry lament made Steve shudder as her body spasmed underneath him, her leg twitching as he gripped it tight round his waist. Her tight heat gripped him, tightening again and again and he felt the burning deep in the pit of his stomach, the surge of his own orgasm felt like it was rising from his very toes as he drove into her once more.

“Fuck, Doll…” he mumbled, before a guttural rumble erupted from his throat as his hips stuttered slightly before he made another few shallow thrusts until he collapsed forward, burying his head in her neck as the afterglow consumed him.

He had no idea how long passed before he managed to muster enough about himself to raise his head. She still had her eyes closed but there was a satisfied smile playing on her lips, one he couldn’t help but mirror. As he watched her face, the tip of his nose gently resting against hers, her eyelids flickered open and he smiled down at her, gently pressing their foreheads together.

“Ok?”

“Yeah…” her voice was raspy and she swallowed “That was more than ok…” He chuckled as he met her lips in a soft kiss, before he gently rolled off her, laying on his back and reaching down for the duvet which was tangled around their legs. After a short wrestle with it and a bit more giggling they both settled down, Katie’s head on his chest as he lay on his back, his hand softly carding through her hair…

Steve blinked, the sun creeping into his hotel room through the crack in the blinds was warm on his face as he roused into consciousness. Despite knowing he’d simply been lost in a memory he glanced to the side and found the bed cold and empty…just like she had done the morning after that night.

He rolled onto his back, blinking up at the ceiling. Two more rounds they’d gone after that. Once when she’d risen to get a drink, bringing back half a small bottle of water which he’d gratefully drained before she’d taken the empty off him, tossed it to the floor and then kissed him with all the ferocity of a woman in need, a need he’d been happy to once again satisfy. And then again when he’d nipped to the bathroom and climbed back in besides her, pulling her into him, her face gently pressing to his chest. She’d nuzzled her nose up along his sternum to his neck, then across his jawline where her teeth gently skated at his beard. He’d been rock solid again in seconds and as she’d pushed him onto his back, gently straddling him and lowering himself down he remembered thinking it would never get better than it was right then and there…

Steve gave a groan as his head pushed back onto the pale blue pillows of his hotel bed. He was rock solid now as well, the memories consuming him totally. It had been the best night of his life, and then he’d gone and ruined it all…

It was still dark when he woke, Katie’s soft body pressed into his chest, arms wrapped around her from behind, nose buried into her soft hair. Blinking he recovered his senses, shifting slightly as he felt her move a little. She settled almost immediately and he swallowed thickly.

Oh shit, what had he done?

He’d never thought confessing his feelings would get this far! No, actually, he hadn’t thought at all. He should have just ignored it like he had been doing for 10 fucking years. He was her boss…this was bad, really bad. Whilst there were no rules, per-se about relationships between colleagues, hell half the force was married to one another if you thought about it, but getting involved with someone in your command chain was a big no-no.

The more he lay there, the worse it got. If they carried on seeing one another, someone was going to have to move out of the department, and he knew that realistically would be her as it was easier to move a detective than a captain.

And then when you threw the DC opportunity she’d been offered into the mix…if she went, what then? It would end just like it had with Peggy. She’d find someone else, someone there…

No, this was Katie…she was different. He’d talk to her, yeah, that was it. They’d always been honest with one another, so as soon as she woke up he’d talk to her, explain that he did care about her, did want to be with her but they needed to think about how they worked it and … fuck, who was he kidding? This was a mess, a huge mess.

He had to go, had to get out. This was too much to process.

Gently he untangled himself from around her and ran his hands over his face, before he moved as quietly as he could around the bedroom, gathering his discarded clothes. He dressed quickly and efficiently before, with one last glance over his shoulder at her as she lay in the bed still sound asleep, he left.

Steve felt like crying. He should have stayed, should have talked, told her his concerns. Bucky was right, they probably could have worked things out, even with her going to DC. Katie wasn’t Peggy after all. But no, instead he’d done the one thing he swore he would never do, hurt her. He’d left her before she woke, and then ghosted her for days, been cruel and effectively made her think that he’d only been after one thing.

And now, the damage was done. He’d lost his best friend and he only had himself to blame. With a loud, angry curse he swung his legs off the bed was making his way to the shower when there was a knock on his door. He padded over the carpet, glanced through the spy hole and seeing who it was, turned and hurriedly grabbed the pair of sweats that were tossed over the chair in the corner. Pulling them on he swung the door open and Bucky sauntered into the room behind him, paper bag in his hand.

“Morning.” he said, as Steve turned to face him. The Captain still looked half asleep, even if he was, erm, standing to attention, so to speak.

“Good dream was it?” Bucky said, nodding to Steve’s crotch and the Captain glanced down and gave a low groan. He’d hoped that the sweatpants he had pulled on would hide that particular predicament. Clearly not

“Did you want something?” “Wasn’t sure what time we agreed to leave.” Bucky said, offering Steve the paper back. “And I was on my way past back to my room so thought I’d check in…”

“You know breakfast is included in the room rate.” Steve said, declining the offer with a shake of his head “No need to go fruit foraging.” “I like plums what can I say.” Bucky shrugged.

“And to answer your question we’ll leave in half an hour, so if you don’t mind I need to shower and sort myself out…” “You can say that again…” Bucky sniggered, nodding again towards Steve’s trousers. Steve rolled his eyes and headed towards the bathroom. “Oh, Steve…”

The Captain stopped and turned to face his friend.

“Just so you know, water is not a good lubricant. Now shower gel on the other hand is, as long as it ain’t that mint tingly shit.”

Steve blinked, and shook his head “What the fuck, man? “Hey I’m just stating facts” Bucky said. “I got that stuff on my balls once…not good. Felt like someone had dunked them in chilli powder. Was burning for hours.”

Steve groaned and looked at the ceiling, shaking his head as he turned and walked through the door leading to the bathroom, slamming it behind him.

“Backed up…” Bucky snorted, as he left the room, grinning to himself as he ate his plum.

@the-omni-princess @momobaby227 @geekofmanythings16 @angelofhell-666 @thewackywriter @marvelfansworld @cobalt-gear @asgardlover75 @jennmurawski13 @jtargaryen18 @saiyanprincessswanie @navispalace @patzammit @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @djeniiscorner @ayamenimthiriel @coldmuffinbanditshoe @disneylovingal @madzmilllz @sgtjaamesbaarnes @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @southerngracela @goldenfightergir @kellymat @official-and-unstable-satan

#csi rogers and barnes #steve rogers #bucky barnes #tony stark #clint barton #natasha romanoff #thor odinson #bruce banner #james rhodes #peter parker #sam wilson #avengers fanfiction #avengers #mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel #smut #yup

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nyullm2020 · 3 years

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A Day in the Life - NYU Law edition

I am blatantly stealing this idea from my fellow LLM Guide blogger at Berkeley, Nathaniel - but thought it might be helpful for those wanting to see what a day is like here in New York at NYU! This is a Thursday.

Morning

8:00am - wake up, lay around for a bit and feel deathly dehydrated from the built-in radiators in my building 😅There’s a blue sky today, but it is very deceptive - it’s cold!!

8:30am - make breakfast, usually a smoothie, cereal or avocado toast with a fried egg. Make my bed to feel minimally productive as well.

9:00am - Finish off my Constitutional Law readings before my 11am class and make my case briefs (with the facts, holding, dissents, etc for each case). I am very on top of readings for this particular class because my (excellent) professor, Melissa Murray, has a cold-calling system where she calls on people for detailed case-specific questions and hypotheticals without any advance notice. It’s a lot of work, and it probably takes me at least 3 hours to prepare for each of my 2 weekly Con Law classes - but it’s such a great subject taught by a fabulous professor, and I like being challenged to keep up.

10:00am - do an online core workout class through Zoom on the NYU Recreation website - I am much more motivated to do a scheduled class than to fit in a Youtube video, although I miss going to a real gym! A lot of my friends have started going to a cheap gym nearby, Blink, so I might join too.

11:00-1:00pm: Con Law class online with 110 other students. I don’t get called on, but I did volunteer at one point 😃At the moment, we are learning about fundamental rights protection under the Due Process Clause and Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment (protecting individual rights from undue interference by the States). We have just started on the right to procreate and the right to abortion before fetal viability - so the famous Roe v. Wade and other related cases, like Planned Parenthood v. Casey (1992) were the topics of conversation today. It’s all very fascinating.

Afternoon

1:10pm: Go pick up a coffee (latte) nearby from one of my favorite local spots, like Banter, Citizens of Bleecker, Third Rail or About Coffee. It’s not cheap here, but it’s my daily treat! Make sure to keep an eye out for Cuomo....

1:30pm: Make lunch with whatever I have. If I’m feeling fancy, I’ll make some pasta with chicken, or maybe just avocado toast with eggs. I often go for lunch with another NYU LLM friend too and grab some ramen or sushi.

This was a little cherry tomato, basil and chicken fettucine I made 🤤

Here’s a chicken, kale, roast veg, avocado and feta salad I made the other week for lunch as well. I try to eat sort of healthy at home so I can eat allllll the cheesecakes and pizza when I go out.

2:00-2:30pm: Scheduled 1-on-1 check-in with my Government Anti-Corruption Clinic professor. She is fantastic, and we chat about how the class is going, my internship at the Brooklyn District Attorney’s Office Public Integrity Bureau, and my plans after the LLM. She gives me some great job search ideas.

2:30pm-3:30pm: Try to jam in some last minute reading before my Introduction to Civil Procedure Class on Zoom. This is all LLMs and I usually don’t finish the readings before this class, but there is no cold-calling. Sometimes we get to see our professor’s Welsh Terrier, Monty!

On days when I have less class, like Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Fridays, I will often go to the library to motivate myself. I’m studying for the MPRE at the end of March (Multistate Professional Responsibility Exam, a component of the NY and California Bar exams), so I need all the motivation I can get!

When I go on campus, I have to complete one of these daily Covid screeners on my phone, and check my temperature with an NYU-provided themometer. Also, don’t forget your student card!

Night

5:30-6:00pm: Zoom call with a Litigation Attorney from my country as a bit of networking. I have a lot of these, and hopefully one will pay off in the form of a job opportunity! She was lovely - I found her through a bit of old-fashioned LinkedIn stalking. Send her my updated resume, and she sends me an email back and some study notes for the bar exam.

6:00-7:00pm: I have a witness preparation session with my ‘co-counsel’ student partner, Jessica (a JD student), and two undergrad pre-law students from NYU for my upcoming simulated trial for my Advanced Trial Simulation class, starting this coming Monday (spanning over two weeks). We run them through the direct examination questions we have drafted as they are playing the role of our lay witness and expert cardiologist witness, as well as cross-examination prep, and our case theory generally. I have a lot of work to do before I am ready to give our opening statement on Monday night, but it’s coming together!

7:00pm-8:30pm: Grocery shopping at a cute grocery store nearby. I love looking at all the freshly made pastas! I made a burnt butter ravioli with walnuts, pumpkin, spinach and sage, but forgot to take a photo of it - so here is all the fresh pasta and then some salmon I made the other week!

9:00pm- too late: Finish off some small tasks and face-time my good friend back home. She’s just moved to the beach, and I’m very jealous. Plan out my day for tomorrow, waste time on social media, hang out with my boyfriend after he finishes work for the day, and then relax before bed!

Let me know what you would like to see here next!

#nyu #classes #gradlife #newyorkcity #nyc #llm #nyulaw #llmguide

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korpuskat · 4 years

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Summary: He’s dangerous. The thought whispers in the back of your skull. You smother it. Overreacting. He’s scared. He didn’t hurt you. You couldn’t have brought someone dangerous into your house. You’re smarter than that. You glance to him, and find him sitting down on your couch again, watching the TV. Please, fuck, be smarter than that. Rating: Explicit (sexual content) WC: 7,785 Warnings: Soft citrus content, threatening/controlling/inappropriate/intrusive behavior from Michael, implicit violent threat to Reader >Chapter 1 >Chapter 2 >Chapter 3 >Chapter 4 >Chapter 5 >Chapter 6 >Chapter 7 >Epilogue

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You open your eyes already tired, bouts of wakefulness left you with broken sleep and the acute knowledge you were not alone. Even in the absolute dark, you felt him. You blink and rub your eyes, try to bring some alertness back to yourself before you sit up.

He sits in a chair at the corner of your room, the white latex illuminated in the low morning light that slips between your blinds. He watches as you rise; there’s no intensity to his mask this time, no hard line to his shoulders. You meet where his eyes should be, too tired to discern why he’s in your room this morning.

Should be obvious; he came in your underwear.

He’s watching you sleep.

That should be so much more concerning than it is, but in a way… You can’t help but like him. It’s nice to get attention, even if it’s so very different than what you had wanted. He’s demanding sometimes, and scary- but he wanted you. And as much as you want to ignore it, want so desperately to focus on the fact that he’s been so horrible injured- you want him, too. You’d dreamed of a real relationship one day, the kind with dinner dates and flowers, but you can’t really complain about whatever it is that’s happening between you and your stranger.

You were circling the drain; sooner or later you’d fall in, but for now the dance you had around each other was… new. Unique. Something so different than the normal dreary aspects of life, the closest you’ve come to romance. You just had to wait until he was well enough, until you could reconcile the fact you wanted someone who wouldn’t speak to you, who had blood on his clothes that was surely not exclusively his own. A wry smile curls at your lips. You don’t even know who he is, don’t even know his name.

You stretch your back, willing your muscles to wake and ready themselves for whatever else he’d do to you today. The mask lifts as you move and you imagine in the darkness he traces your shape with his eyes. "Good morning," You rasps and swallow compulsively. Must've slept with your mouth open.

Just as with yesterday, he follows you to your bathroom and watches you brush your teeth, but as far as you could tell he remains focused on your face. He even steps aside as you move to leave. Not enough, of course, forcing you to fit between his body and the door frame, but at least you didn’t have to guide him into moving out of the way. You don't hear his footsteps behind you through the hallway, but you trust he's here anyway.

“Breakfast, then I’ll check your bandages again?” You ask, turning to glance behind you. He actually doesn’t crowd into your kitchen this time, seemingly okay with just lingering in the hallway, only half visible. He doesn’t nod, but he certainly didn’t mind telling you when something displeased him, so you figure that’s okay.

You poke through your fridge, displeased at the remaining edible foodstuff. “We’re low on eggs, but I could make toast with it?” Some produce catches your eye. “Oh, I know. Breakfast might be a little small, but I can get groceries and we can make a soup for tonight. Got some potatoes and onion left here, could add corn? Would just need to grab some meat.” You peer over the top of the fridge door. You are unsurprised that he has not moved, still standing statuesque in the shadows of your hallway. You try to meet his eyes, silently ask him to answer: “I could make it without, too. Do you prefer meat?”

He nods. The corners of your eyes crinkle as you smile. Again, you pull out the eggs and a skillet. You press your luck. “Do you like coffee?”

He doesn’t move this time. Oh well. You crack your eggs and leave them to start cooking while scooping grounds into your coffee maker. You’d make an extra cup for him, just in case. Soon enough the smell of fresh brewed coffee filters through your home. The eggs- only really enough for one plate this time, follow soon after. Buttering bread and throwing it in the toaster is the final touch. You stick two pieces of toast on each plate and split the eggs between you.

He still waits in the hallway, having either forgotten or ignored your plea for him to sit down yesterday, so you fill a cup of water for him and hand him both the plate and the cup. “Go sit down, turn the TV on if you want.”

He stands there a moment as you turn and begin fixing your cup of coffee, balancing the bitter taste with how awake you want to be. This time, the floorboard does not creak. You only know that he leaves and enters the living room because the prickling feeling of being watched fades from between your shoulder blades. He does not turn on the TV, but he does sit in the same spot on the couch. You enter the living room just in time to see him rolling up the latex again.

He’s a little more controlled with his hunger this time- and a little more deft with his fork. You turn on the TV again, still early enough to catch the weather. You sip your coffee and watch as the local weatherman- a young man that’s gone gray much too early- talks about the chilly breezes coming through and the long, dark nights. He makes some off-color joke about not having someone to spend those nights with.

Crunching draws you back to your guest, already done with his eggs and moving on to the toast. You hoped it was close enough to how he liked it. Not that he'd tell you. Despite the calming of his hunger, he still drinks as if parched- and to your amazement, when his glass empties, he stands, goes to the kitchen, and with the sound of running water, he actually fills his own glass.

You aren’t quite sure what to make of it. Was he getting more comfortable with you and your house? It’d be nice- maybe he could relax more. Talk to you, maybe. He stays in the kitchen for a minute- you eat in peace for the first time in two days. The water runs again, but he does not return quite yet. You watch as the anchors speak distantly, caught up the glittering of the woman's necklace. From the corner of your eye, you see the man reappears in the entryway to the living room, but does not return to his seat.

You twist to look at him directly. There’s still little wet spots over the neck and chest of his coveralls, but his mask has already been pulled down, his hands empty. He stops in the doorway and just stands there, watching. Sometimes you, sometimes the TV. You sneak glances at him between bites, only letting your eyes loiter when you’re sure he’s fixated on the screen.

You finish your breakfast and take a while to just sip your coffee. It’s actually kind of normal. Drinking coffee on the brisk November morning, watching boring news reports, trying to budget your limited funds in your head. A stranger looming in the shadows. You almost do laugh: at this point, one of those might actually be scarier than the other.

You take another long sip before tabling your remaining half-full coffee and wave him over, “Bandage time.”

He is silent as resumes his place in the cushions- even turns slightly towards you. His chest rises and falls in steady pace, and once more, he does not undo his zipper for you. That’s fine. Behind his mask, he watches as you pull the zipper down with increasing confidence.

His bruises are lightening slowly; what the shower had darkened has faded, and slowly the purples along his pecs have faded, ceding the first vestiges of his natural skin tone back to the greens and yellows of lighter bruising. He heals fast for an old man. The mottled colors highlight the pale white of the round scars over his abdomen. You struggle not to touch them.

You check his hands first. The gauze over his stumps is clean, so you tape it back down. The knife wound along his right wrist had reopened during his shower, but now is clean and scabbed nicely. The slash higher on his arm is also clean, but you take your time smoothing the bandage down, feeling the shape of his arm. He doesn’t seem to mind.

You peel off the front gauze pad to his gunshot. It’s stained a yellow-pink across the bottom, a shiny, hard crust ringing the lower edge of the scab. Concern draws you mouth tight; you’d read a little about drainage in severe wounds. “I have to check this one more often.” You say more to yourself than him and touch his shoulder. You wish you could knit his skin yourself, to rub your thumb over the puckered hole and have it disappear entirely. “I think your others are closing nicely.”

You change the bandage easily; the man’s lack of pain reaction still astounds you. He doesn’t even flinch when you touch too close to the wound itself. With the new gauze pad taped into place, you’re done. It's much faster when you aren't having to clean him and not being disgusted by the gore.

“Alright, that’s it. You’re free.” You lean back and begin to stand to throw out his dirtied bandage. His hand wraps around your left wrist- tugs you back towards him. His breath whistles through the holes in his mask, a peculiar tightness to his grasp. You meet his eye line, searching the darkness for meaning.

Your voice is delicate, “What is it?”

He leans forward- the remaining fingers of his left hand grabbing a small bottle from your medkit. You set his dirty bandage aside and take the bottle with your free hand. It’s the burn salve. Worry pangs you, “Do your burns hurt?” You should’ve looked up more about them.

He’s still except for the movement of his chest. You expected a nod at least, he’d been practically talkative today! But he says nothing, betrays nothing at all. Perhaps he didn’t want to admit his injuries pained him? Or maybe it had just felt better with the salve. “It’s okay, I’ll put it on.”

His hand loosens, then slowly lets go, turning to offer you his palm. You unscrew the lid and look inside; it’s only about half full now, but that should last you long enough to cover his hands and neck again. You’ll have to get more when you’re out later.

You rub the cream into his skin, trying to gauge if you could tell if his burns were healing. The skin seemed less red and inflamed and the new skin is shiny and taut, but you couldn’t be sure how much it had changed since you first cleaned him up. You turn his hand over and rub the cream onto his knuckles. His index finger twitches, rubbing against your wrist, the nail scratching lightly.

You switch hands. The long, peeled burn on his forearm did look better, a little less aggressive than it had before. A lightness fills your chest at the sight; he is healing. Slowly, but surely- despite your total lack of medical expertise, he was on the mend. To be sure, you liberally coat it with more cream and spread it to cover every edge until a pastel mint color covers the entire wound.

You look up as you finish, finding the same pale mask staring you down. His hand lingers on yours, not breaking the soft contact between you, but you motion to his neck. “That too?”

The shifting of his head is so slight, you think you might’ve imagined it. But he’s confident enough to tell you when he doesn’t want something, so you scoot closer and move up to smear cream just above his clavicles. He must’ve nodded, because he doesn’t stop you. Instead he tips his head back, lifting the mask’s latex flaps so you can reach the burn easier.

The memory of yesterday makes you shiver and try to catch a glimpse of the eyes hidden beneath the mask. The foggy blue is gone now, the shadows obscuring his face. You follow the full circumference of his neck, even getting him to lean forward so you can get it on the nape of his neck. But it’s done quickly for how small and regular the red skin is, and after checking your work, you move away to put your kit back together.

The feeling of his hand on your wrist is becoming disturbingly commonplace. Again, his touch is slick on your wrist with the cream covering his fingertips. You look up to him. His grasp spasms; pulling too tight- pain lancing through your arm for a fraction of a second, before loosening, lingering on your skin. You wince, your eyes flit over the mask, searching for what it is he wants you to do. You tilt your head at him, raise on eyebrow. You’d checked all the wounds you’d bandaged- rubbed cream on his hand and neck. Did something else hurt him? Had you forgotten a wound?

He withdraws from you, the warmth of his hand pressed deep in your skin. His hands raise- and touch the edges of his mask, then every so slowly, he begins to peel it up and away. The same stubble you saw while eating returns, silvery gray and ever so slightly longer than when you’d found him. His lips are drawn in tight. When the mask rolls over the tip of his nose, he reaches up and grabs the mask by its brown hair and pulls it off.

He lays the latex in his lap, his gaze glued to it- and all you can see is the strong profile of his nose and jaw, the long lines of wrinkles of his aged face gathered around his eyes, yet somehow clear of laugh lines. You can see it without the blood and rage that had obscured his features; he must’ve been attractive when he was young. Young and before his eyes was damaged- not that you didn’t find a rugged handsomeness about the mismatched irises. There’s a strange innocence about his countenance- if he’d only smile he’d look angelic. But his eyes are sharp and piercing rather than soft and loving, yet with his pink lips, and well-shaped face, you can imagine the women fawning over him.

Without the last two digits of his left hand you hadn't even thought to look for a ring. You flush and look away.

What you need to focus on now is the glued skin of his cheek. That’s the only reason you can imagine he’d take his mask off for you. It’s the first time he’s done so- the only other time you saw his real face was when you had demasked him. The significance is not lost on you and you take care not to overwhelm him.

His budding trust in mind, you lick your lips and so delicately touch his jaw. You take it slow, giving him time to stop you if it’s too much. His stubble is prickly on your palms, but feels nice when you smooth it down with your thumb. The glue over his cheek is messy- specked with dirt and debris, but still in place. You guess he listened to you when you asked him not to scrub it. But you don’t know how to assess a wound that had skin glue on it, considering by nature it was sealed up tight. At best you would have to look at the inside of his mouth and you don’t think he’d be keen on literally opening up.

As long as it’s not still bleeding, you’ll take it as a good sign. The scar will be something nasty, though. The wound was rough and uneven when you’d last seen it open, and with your unskilled closing, that wouldn’t help. Not that he had much to lose; he already had a prominent facial scar. Your mouth is dry as you speak, “This one looks good, I think.”

You back off, try to assess how you'd reach the other head wound. “Could you, lean forward? I want to check the top of your head.”

His head turns slowly, and finally: the cold chill that runs down your spine is familiar, comfortable, terrifying; your eyes lock with his. He’s more guarded today- or perhaps you’re getting used to his hypnotic, electric gaze. You can breathe, your chest not lost to his will; a few moments hold is all it takes for you to be able to blink and look away. He does not move more. So, he won’t be cooperating entirely. You can still work with that.

You resettle on the couch, moving to kneel on the cushions and using the back to straighten yourself up enough to see the top of his head. You worry that he’ll try to follow you with his eyes again which would entirely spoil your ability to reach the wound you hadn’t been able to check in a long while. But he doesn’t. He’s unnaturally still except for the rhythmic sounds of his breathing, the soft lifting and dropping of his chest and shoulders. He doesn’t even blink.

Again, you find his cheek- reaching around to touch his already scarred cheek, and oh so gently guide him to turn fully towards you and drop his chin. You feel the muscle in his jaw tighten, his eyes narrowing, but he complies. It’s still not a great angle, he’s so tall and the wound is more behind him than anything. You try to straighten up a bit- at least so you can see around the edges-

Your knee slips between the cushions. You waver- You grab his shoulder to stop yourself from falling on him-

And one warm hand with only three fingers catches you at your ribs. The unexpected touch makes your breath stutter. You peer down at him, blink rapidly, feel your pulse against his palm, but his eyes are level, gazing somewhere far off. He’s under your shirt. That alone makes you shiver, feel the imprint of his fingers on your skin.

You don’t know how he was fast enough to slip up under the hem as you wobbled. Had he been waiting for it? Was it somehow an accident? You swallow thickly but can’t find it in yourself to say anything. His hand is warm, his touch is strange with only three fingers. With the extra support you can nearly see the whole wound, you move your hand from his shoulder to his cheek again-

His other hand finds you. He holds at your hip, just above the hem of your pants and under the hem of your now slightly raised shirt, but does nothing else. His breathing is still steady, low and consistent in contrast to your stuttering, shallow gasps. It’s nothing. You tell yourself, You nearly fell on him. It’s for balance. It's a lie and you know it, can't even accept your own placations. One hand might be an accident, but not both. Not both warm and squeezing softly into your skin, feeling your shape-

You bite your lip. You need to check the one last wound and then you'd be done. With one hand keeping balance on his shoulder that doesn't have a bullet wound, you reach with your other hand and touch around the edge of the scab. He hadn’t minded it before, and if it gets you out of his hands before you’re actually on his lap, it’s fine. The edges of the scab are irregular and bumpy, the clotting forming extra thickly, trapping a few short hairs in the clump of dark cells. But it feels okay- none of the crust you found on his shoulder or even active dampness of blood or drainage. He's regained control of his arm and aside from his muteness, he doesn't seem to have brain damage.

You start to move back, just a hair away-

His hands jerk once, then start to slide across your skin. The one at your hip slips over your back, his hand long enough to feel the line of your spine- then both move up, up- resting just before your curve of your chest. You shake, wanting to pull away and stop before it gets too far- and yet captivated by the feel of his fingers on your skin. He's nearly burning to the touch- the sensation new and strange and wonderful and more than that, you're taken by the wonder of what he’d do to you.

You don’t have to wonder long. His hands turn, finding your breasts in his palms. It’s odd how his touch is asymmetrical, three long fingers to five. He just holds them- long enough for you to question what he’s doing just sitting there, if this was even sexual for him. So calm while he’s unmaking you with hardly more than a touch. If it weren’t for your hold on his shoulder, you’d have collapsed into his hands, onto his chest. What would he have done then?

The pressure on your breasts tightens- he closes his fingers, squeezing; first gently, like he’s unsure of what he can do- then turning rougher, faster. He gains confidence at lightning speed, leaving you dizzy and confused. You press into his palms, the new feeling of being groped too good to ignore. His fingers pull at your skin, drawing from sternum to nipple, one calloused thumb catching sideways it by accident. You gasp, jolt in his hands-

He notices.

His touch is experimental, but firm: both thumbs center on your nipples now, feeling over their shape, swiping across in all directions, pressing and flicking-- you bite your lip, close your eyes to keep from crying out. You've never been so glad you can't see his face at this angle- if he were to see you now you might simply burn away. You find the back of his neck with your free hand- you want to pull him close, to give in, to give him whatever it is he wants from you despite every alarm you’ve ever had ringing at the mere sight of him.

His head shifts under you, his short hair moving over the back of your hand as he tips his head up-

For a moment, there’s teeth on your throat. He doesn’t get to close his jaw.

You gasp, and finally push away from him, falling back onto one side of the couch. You chest heaves and the sound of your panting breaths fill your ears; the memory of his touch tingles on your breasts. Through your pajamas, your nipples are hard, stiffened under his exploration. He moves- you sit upright, slide backwards until you're nearly crawling up the arm of the couch- but he only turns away from you, fingers already curled into the white latex. He pulls the mask back over his face, as if nothing had happened. With the jumpsuit curled around his waist, you can't even tell if he's hard.

Your legs wobble as you stand, but you make it all the way to your bedroom without stumbling.

You lock the door this time.

You didn’t want him to stop, it occurs to you. You don’t know anything about him and you hate yourself for wanting him anyway. You need to calm down.

The bathroom tile is freezing, but it’s refreshing. A solid connection to the real world outside of the all-absorbing nature of his gaze, his touch. You turn on the cold tap full blast, cupping your hands under the spray and pressing them to your face. Heat still lingers in your cheeks and in the mirror you can see teeth marks where you’d bit on your lip to keep quiet. There’s nothing on your neck- it’d been too brief.

You wished there were marks.

You spray your face cold again, rest your forehead on the faucet. You had to stop. You were supposed to care for him- all you have to do is wait it out until he’s healed or he’ll talk to you or maybe he’ll still go to the hospital. Even if he did-

He’s too much. The slightest touch of his skin has you shivering and now? Now you’ll never be able to forget what it felt like to have him be the first person to caress your chest, knowing his fingers were just as deft as they looked, injured or not. You bite at your lips, feel the sensitive spot you'd left there, and focus on the physical, the present. You were so screwed. If you don't get your head on straight before you did something you’d regret…

Well, at worst you’d have slept with a stranger... Of mysterious origins and questionable morality and dubious intent. But still, there were worse things in the world than giving it up to a handsome man.

You needed out of the house for a while. Just to get a breath of fresh air- ground yourself in a world that isn’t exclusively centered around your visitor. That's all this was: cabin fever.

Groceries. The light clicks on in your head. You needed to run errands. Yes, yes- you could go and get food and restock your first aid kit. That should give you time to calm down, to figure out what you were going to do about him. You shut off the water and pat your face dry. Normally you’d jot things down on your phone, but it’s still out there. With him. And you can’t trust yourself quite enough for that yet.

You dig around in your nightstand and produce a notepad and a pen that takes a few strokes before it leaves a dark blue mark. First, medical supplies. More bandages- and gauze pads for his shoulder. Burn cream, definitely. You had no idea how long he’d need that. You could do with more plain band-aids too. Food wise... Well. He didn’t seem very picky. You’d get some meat to make a stew tonight, you needed eggs, could probably do with more bread. Maybe you could grab some pasta? That’d be easy to make. Or a casserole?

You didn’t need to get a lot- you could go out again another day. Just enough to get you through a few nights.

You double check the door before undressing. The little turn-bit is firmly horizontal. A moment of paranoia makes you want to check if you can hear breathing on the otherwise of the plywood, but you shake that idea away. Even if he was there, he couldn't get in. You pick clean clothes from the dresser- it feels good to be dressed; it feels normal. A much needed break from the delirious dream you’d been stumbling through the last two days. You brush your hair in the mirror and straighten yourself up. You only needed control for a minute.

You stop at your door, one hand laid on the cool metal. Tell him you’re going to get groceries. Get your phone and keys. Leave. You only need control for a minute

You turn the knob. The empty space of the hallway surprises you- absurdity nearly makes you laugh. Had you really expected him to stand at your door and wait?

He’s still sitting, he’s too tall for the couch; his knees are folded up just too high, his hands laid serenely in his lap. The coveralls have been adjusted and rezipped, covering all the wounds you'd cleaned. He stares at the TV-- which is now on. The news plays, it’s the same anchor from yesterday morning. You can’t focus on her words, instead forcing your own voice from your throat. “I’m going to go to the store.”

The mask turns. He stands all at once- his height alone makes you tremble, makes your mind wander. You steel your spine, quiet the shuddering in your breathing. “To make soup. And to get more bandages for you.”

You can feel it again; a neediness in his gaze that threatens to consume you whole. But he doesn’t move towards you, just stands. Your knees nearly give out, but you make it to the coffee table and retrieve your phone. He doesn't move to stop you, does not follow you to the kitchen as you get your keys. He still stands in the living room and watches. You feel his displeasure and some part of you doesn't want to disappoint him. But you need to get out- if only for a little bit.

“It’s alright, I’ll be back in an hour or so.” The calmness in your voice surprises even you. Caring for him does come naturally and the purpose of your excursion is not entirely selfish. “Just sit and watch something. Let your wounds rest some more. It won’t be long.”

You want to leave without looking- to just let him deal with his problems himself. But you stand at the door for longer than you should’ve, wishing he’d sit and take your advice. To give you some unspoken approval, to give you permission. He doesn’t. His only response is the heavy breathing through the mask, nearly lost under the sound of the news station’s jingle playing.

You roll you teeth over your lip and leave.

He doesn’t stop you.

You lock the door behind you. The November air is crisp and fresh, the cool breeze breathing life into your frazzled nerves. And as you step into your car, you see a shape in your window. Peering through your blinds, a cracked white mask watches you leave.

It’s not there when you return.

Of course he isn’t. You scold yourself. He wouldn’t just stand there for half an hour. Your goods managed to fit in only two bags and you hang those on your wrists. They’re heavy, but it’s doable. All you have to do is get to the door anyway.

The key turns and you drop the bags inside- double checking that you locked your car. “Hey,” You call out- and get no response. About as expected. You close the door with your foot and manage to haul the bags around the corner and into the kitchen. The plastic left lines in your skin across your wrists, but you did it.

You peek out into the living room. The TV is still on, the fake judicial show having made a return. The judge bangs her gavel- and there’s no man on your couch. Or peering through the windows, or bleeding out on the floor. You blink, look down the hallway- he’s not there either. Must be in the bathroom, you reason and push the little voice in the back of your head down. The little thing whispering he’s gone.

He wouldn’t. He was weird and obsessed with you. Unpacking groceries eases the sudden fear- a normal, everyday thing. The plastic bag crinkles softly as you remove items one by one. It needed to be done, and as you put the beef away, you hear the soft click of a door latching.

The relaxation is instant, even if your self-hatred for still being so worked up is persistent. You pull out the potatoes and a cutting board. You can feel him again, the hairs standing up on the back of your neck; it’s not uncomfortable. “The potatoes have to boil, so I’m starting them now.” You speak to the void. It says nothing back.

You wash the tubers quickly, and take a knife from your block. There’s a sharp intake behind you; you turn. He’s back, as you had expected. No longer staying further back, he's taken his previous post of standing in the kitchen with you. It really confirms how damn silent he can be- and your brow furrows as you realize he's staring at you more intently than normal.

No, not you.

His mask dips just too low to be on you. The knife shines in your hand, glinting off the kitchen lights. A knife... Guilt lays heavy in your stomach. You turn, try to hide the blade behind your body. “Are you okay?” Did you bring back bad memories? He'd been stabbed and-

The mask snaps up to you, his right hand flexes. His breathing is loud, but steady, muffled through the latex. His nod is a sharp jerk of his chin.

You worry- but return to cooking. He’s been forward enough before. There’s something different about him now- before his agitation had been either of self-preservation (as warped as it was to avoid doctors) or... sexual in nature. You can’t tell- was he just anxious seeing you with a knife? Did he not... trust you?

You cube the first potato and push the thoughts away. You'd have to deal with them later, after you get everything cooking together. The sharp knife slides smoothly through it, thudding pleasantly on the wood board. You’re careful to cut them evenly- undercooked potatoes are torturous and you might as well spare your guest the additional trauma.

There’s a trauma you’d wish he’d spare you in return. The hunger- the devious heat behind his eyes is back, radiating in the air- his need to devour. Something predatory wafts off him, makes your hands shake. You swipe your pale cubes into a bowl and pull over another potato to begin again. Footsteps- and you can feel his presence over your shoulder, any closer and you would feel the heat of his body. His breath whistles in the narrow nose holes.

Your heart pounds in your chest and you feel like a rabbit in the wolf's maw. You steal a glance at him. His height is exaggerated from the high angle, towering over you- chin dropped to watch each motion of your hand. You tremble before him, your cutting paused so you don’t hurt yourself. He eyes slide up your arm to your face- the breathing even louder now.

You can’t imagine what he wants- you lick your lips. In the tight space, you manage to turn sideways towards him. “Do you... want to help?” You motion to the blade, hanging loosely in your hand.

His mask turns slow from you to the knife and back again. You move slow- if he was hesitant about knives you didn’t want to startle him. You turn the knife in your hand so you can offer him the black handle, the long silver point angled back at you. He stands there-

And slowly takes the kitchen knife. His hand is so big it dwarfs the black plastic, almost entirely hidden under his huge palm. In the transfer his finger brushes against yours and you nearly drop it. He squeezes; you watch his knuckles turn white. You think nothing of it, until he steps forward again.

The flat of the blade brushes against the side of your shirt- through the fabric you can feel the cold of the metal, solid and unwavering against your ribs. You gasp, try not to inhale too sharply. It’s exactly where he’d touched you before, where his right hand had paused before engulfing your chest, the heat still present in your mind. You search the blackness of his eye holes but find only that radiating power, the knowledge he could end your life with a flick of his wrist. It's no accident for him to do this- it's purposeful. He wants something-

And his wrist turns, the knife spinning sideways, scraping along your shirt- the cutting edge cradled delicately between two ribs. That thrilling, terrifying power surrounds you- the knife pressing closer for one agonizing moment. He’s fighting something, the dark impulse that guides him. All the other times he’s crowded you and threatened you or been inappropriate- it was for himself or to get a rise from you. Trying to goad you into giving in to whatever it is he wants- to not go to the hospital, to make some sexual pass at you.

But there’s no lust in this action; he could touch you with his other hand, or press the knife against your throat- hell, he could just choke you again if he was trying to punish you, to give you warning for some unseen trespass. But he stands there, the blade pressed just too hard into you, just on the edge of beginning to hurt. Your lips part of their own accord, drawing in a soft breath, seeking his eyes through the mask. You wished he’d show them to you again. You can’t look away now, can’t speak- can’t even will yourself to cry out or fight against him.

And then, he wins.

The knife moves away. You blink, wide-eyed up at him, silent despite the very real possibility that he would’ve killed you- that he wanted to spill your blood across your kitchen floor. Your side hurts. His mask turns, looks to the cutting board and the potato, half cut and forgotten behind you

He steps around you, and you follow his lead like a dancer, turning and letting him stand in front of the chopping board, lingering over his left side. You should be so much more afraid than you are. Your fingers tremble, everything about you trembles, but his heat is familiar, comforting- you can’t move away. “Try to cut them the same size, like mine.” You point to the ones already cut. “It’ll make them cook evenly.”

He holds the potato in place with his injured hand, you touch his arm, his back- he stiffens under the touch as he brings the knife back over the board. His arm flexes and the knife thuds into the board- too hard, but not hard enough to get the blade stuck. Light glints off it again and he raises it, scoots it over on the potato and tries again- still too hard, but working fine enough. You’ll just have to sharpen the blade later. His cuts are irregular, some bigger followed by smaller, like he’s trying to compensate but can’t judge it quite right. Must not cook often. You wonder if it’s to do with his eye.

You can’t help but smile; it’s kind of endearing. You could teach him to cook, at least some simple things. Another thud and he’s almost done with the cuts one way. “Now turn them,” You instruct, and watch as he holds the cuts together with his three fingers, and begins chopping longwise. You’ll definitely have some interesting potatoes.

bang

You jump, twisting your fingers into the man’s coveralls. The front door. He hesitates, turns to look at the exit of the kitchen. You shake your head. “I’ll get it, you keep working on those. It’ll only be a minute.” Now who would be calling on you? You certainly weren't expecting anyone- maybe one of your neighbors?

You round the corner out into the entryway, wiping your hands messily on your pants. A peer through the peephole does not assuage your fears. You undo the lock and open the thick wood.

A man stands before you in a pressed blue uniform, not too different from your guest’s. Except for the black belt covered in pouches- and the gun holstered on one hip and the shiny silver badge on his breast. He has tight gray coils and there is a warmth to his large, dark eyes. The fear pours into you- cops were never a good sign. Yet the fact you’d so nearly called them twice before is not lost on you.

His voice is smooth and deceptively happy. “Hello, I’m Officer Jake Windsor with the state police. May I come in?”

You introduce yourself curtly, but hesitate. “I’d rather not. Privacy and all.” Instead, you step outside and close the door behind you. Out in the driveway you can see the cop’s car parked next to yours, the lights off and empty. Alone.

He smiles and nods- it even looks genuine. Maybe it was. “I understand, we’re just out canvassing, looking for any leads on a recent case. Have you seen anything strange in the last few days?”

Case. What case? Could it be him? You try not to betray too much, “What do you mean by strange?”

He ducks his head, picks his words carefully. “Well, people that shouldn’t be around. Maybe someone wearing a mask after Halloween?” A rock plummets through your stomach, every muscle going tense. Had someone reported him missing? The man before you sighs and takes off his cap, to scratch at his short, thick hair. “Listen, between you and me, this is about the Myers case.”

“Myers?” The gears click in your head, the lens finally, excruciatingly coming into focus. Myers. The news story had been everywhere a few days ago. Your voice is far away, muffled in your own ears. “Michael Myers? The serial killer?”

Windsor nods, grimaces. “He escaped about a week ago now. Left a string of murders around Haddonfield. He was last seen at a cabin a few miles from here. Wasn’t much left, mostly just ashes-” his burns “-but until we know for certain that he’s dead, we just want to be cautious. Check if anyone's seen anything.”

You stare past him, out into the woods. Into piles of orange and brown leaves that have begun to rot. “I haven’t… seen anything.” You shake your head, how could you have not seen it? His wounds- the excess blood. He wasn’t attacked, he was the attacker. Oh, god you’d let him feel you up, he’s been in your room, and he- in your shower-- You wrap your arms around yourself in a weak attempt to keep the fear from pouring out of you.

The cop raises his hands, placating. “There’s no need to worry. If you see anyone unusual, call the police.” He shrugs, tries to come off as nonchalant, but you can see the shadow of worry over his dark eyes. “Just, don’t approach them.” He looks at you- and you can feel him trying to gauge your reaction. Did he have a clock on I almost slept with a murderer?

He sighs and steps away. Seems not. “That’s all I needed. You-”

“Is he dangerous?” Your voice comes out too fast, too worn to pass as anything other than terror.

Windsor bites his cheek and measures his options. He nods, “He’s killed seventeen people that we know of, this time. Plus the five he killed before.” He touches your forearms- gentle, just the tips of his fingers, trying to bring you back to the present. So different than- “Listen, we’re fairly sure he’s dead. Keep your doors locked and be cautious, you’ll be fine.”

You could yell. You could tell him right now in whispered words- could drive off with him until the cavalry arrives. It would only take a word, take two- he’s here.

You nod, and try to smile, your lips drawing tight across your face. “Thank you.” Why? Why why why-

Because it's not true. It can't be. He smiles back, eyes crinkling at the sides. “Don’t you worry. And have a good day.”

You nod, and watch him climb down your creaky wooden stairs- watch him all the way to getting in his car. He waves, and you wave back- and he drives off, kicking up gravel as he goes. You watch- and see your life going with him. It's not true. You knew better than that. You had to,

The breeze picks up again, but you’re already cold.

You turn the knob, hear the tumblers click, step inside. The warmth of your heater can do nothing for the chills on your skin, the icy knot in your stomach. You close the door and lean against it. You can’t mask this, what are you doing? If he knows you know, if it's true then- dread chokes at your throat.

There’s no thudding in the kitchen, no scraping of the knife on the board.

He knows.

Your heart races, blood rushing in your ears. A single boot steps into the entryway. Your eyes shoot up. Another footstep- and slowly, the blue coveralls return to view. He stands upright, tall and imposing, the white latex glaring down at you over his nose. He knows.

You have to. “Michael?” The name is foreign, strange as you say it. He wouldn’t respond. He was just your guest- not an escaped murderer. Just silent and scarred and traumatized. He couldn’t be.

He turns his wrist- the knife flashes in his hand.

Your mouth falls open but no sound comes out, the tears finally spouting from your eyes, leaving hot tracks over your cheeks. You lick your lips and taste salt. How could you not recognize the mask? Not piece together who he was?

The handle creaks in his grasp, his head tilting ever so slowly. Your tongue is thick in your mouth, your whole body heavy under his gaze. You’d bandaged him, washed him- the white gauze on his left hand peeks out from under the sleeves. Your breath is ragged, and every fiber of you wants to run because he knows

The light shines through your living room windows and as he tilts his head, you catch his eyes.

You’re pinned, frozen where you are, tears blurring your vision even as you blink them away to hold onto the weak connection you have. He’s icy blue-gray, cold and far away, his pupils grown wide in something you can’t name. There’s a heat to them, a burning need somewhere inside him that threatens to consume- and you watch through the lit mask as his eyes narrow, one gray brow dipping into sight for a fraction of a second.

His mask turns upright, and the vision is gone. Your connection is gone. A sob catches in your throat and you just want to know why-

And he turns. Turns away from you. He walks down your long hallway with even, unhurried steps that creak at your floorboards. His shoulders hardly move. He turns out to your laundry room. He does not look back, does not even hesitate- and you hold your breath as you hear the turning of your back door's lock, the creaking of the old wood protesting opening.

You stand there for several long minute, time turning into a sluggish slurry. When he does not return you slide down the front door, your head spinning.

Wind filters through your house.

=====

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#Michael Myers #michael myers x reader #Michael myers x you #Slasher x reader #slasher x you #NSFT #Rest for the Wicked #Halloween

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split-n-splice · 4 years

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Last part to Distance! Now to procrastinate making a new banner for the next arc... pfft

[Chapter Guide]

12. Distance – 5

Drakken lay blinking up at the figure above him surrounded by a halo of light. But she was no angel. She was a far cry from angel. As he gawped up at her, he came to the very sudden and very shocking realization that he couldn’t breathe. There was something very wrong with him – and that damn demon had done it. She’d taken his breath away – literally.

She had some nerve to smile and laugh, even as she reached down to pull him up by an arm, sitting him upright. He made a weak attempt to shove her away as he fought against a paralyzed diaphragm to draw in air. Horrendous wheezes coming from himself drowned out whatever words of ridicule or support she spared as she rubbed his back.

She’d hit him – hard – but maybe he deserved it. He deserved it for the smack he’d given her in the garage last week. Just maybe not so hard as to debilitate him.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t brought it upon himself though. “Are you going easy on me?” had been a slip of the tongue, but it was a serious question regardless of however teasing it came out. He’d known the answer though. She’d worked at a more intensive pace with the henchmen yesterday, and he was beginning to feel shamefully inferior. Until that point, she’d thrown halfhearted blows with next to zero force behind them in a lesson on blocking, moving just slow enough he could react after she’d explained what to expect and how to respond. Clearly it had been the wrong thing to say because she suddenly struck him in the middle with a jab like a viper to remind him what a real punch was like.

At least she hadn’t given him a black eye or bloody nose or split his lip, which had only just healed from last week’s robot mutiny. He was still thoroughly humiliated as he hung his head between his knees and heaved for air. He tried to ignore her crouched next to him as she reigned in her giggle fit.

No sooner was he breathing steadily again did Shego give him a rough pat between the shoulders. She hopped up, grappling at his arms to pull him up along with her. “C’mon, big guy, it’s not that bad. On your feet,” she said through stifled chuckles.

Drakken rubbed his sternum as he rose, blinking against the haze. “Glasses—?” he managed to grumble, trying not to look toward the shape of black-painted lips parted to flash pearly whites. Of course his glasses were pushed up atop his head, and of course she’d reach over to push them down because she’d been the one to push them up for safe keeping while he’d bellyached on the floor.

He glared back at her cheeky smile and jerked away the arm she’d been hanging onto.

Having the wind knocked out of him should have been a clue to call it quits. He didn’t know why he gave in to her goading to continue. Resuming the practice and letting her put her hands on him to instruct him on self defense was a big mistake from the get-go, but he didn’t learn his lesson.

He’d been knocked on his butt enough for one day, and even if there was a padded mat below him, it wasn’t padded enough. Drakken began to wonder if she was keeping tally of how many times she could take him down. He’d lost count himself. He just considered himself lucky she didn’t knock him out cold.

Breathing deep just to be absolutely certain he still could, he stared up at her blurry shape once more. The woman in green and black harlequin uniform knelt down next to him, returning his miraculously-intact glasses to his face for the umpteenth time so he could see her smug smile clearly. He glared past her instead.

It was then he finally noticed the gathering of henchmen lined up on the catwalk above, and he blanched as Shego twisted to look back herself.

Only two henchmen had been summoned to the gym this morning to sharpen their skills with Shego, yet the whole damn crew had come to spectate. They were chattering lowly among each other, passing cash, blatantly taking bets – on what, Drakken wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know. Probably on how many times he fell.

He bolted upright so fast he nearly knocked into the superhuman leaning over him. He checked his watch – it was five till ten – the henchmen were early. And he had the sneaking suspicion they’d been there a while. Long enough to see him flattened one last time, anyway. Somehow that was worse than having the wind knocked out of him.

“Why didn’t you tell me they were there?” he growled over, tucking in his shirt neatly even though he’d be changing it in a few minutes anyway. Force of habit. He caught her sidestepping away, her face flushing a funny shade as she fidgeted behind her back, but the best answer she gave was a shrug to suggest their arrival was news to her too.

Drakken turned his glare up to the henchmen, barking at them to quit standing around and get to work. The two assigned to Shego came forth while the rest of the group split off to the workout equipment. He was conflicted between sticking around to oversee the session and hurrying off to avoid the peer pressure of watching his employees getting daily exercise he so regularly skipped out on. There was no reason for them to all be here, all at once, and he had the queasy feeling it was Shego that lured them to the gym.

But Shego was a skilled fighter. She could handle herself – she’d made that abundantly clear, both to him, and to the whole henchcrew. Worrying about leaving her to them made no sense when her knack for fighting played such a considerable role in why he’d hired her in the first place. They were no match for her. If anything, he should be worried for his crew.

With that in mind, he tried to leave her to it. He changed out of his sweats and T-shirt and tried to unravel scrolls of paper to work on blueprints to fill a custom order, but his mind kept straying from the unfinished page in front of him. He slumped over his lab desk and scratched behind his ear with the pencil, his knee bouncing away anxiously.

This morning, he’d made a point to park out front of her apartment a full hour before she was due to show up at the lair. He’d been just in time, because the civilian Shilo appeared a couple minutes later with her bag of gear. He’d had to honk the horn to catch her attention, because she almost hadn’t noticed him, but he’d seen her breathe a sigh of relief as she turned away from the bus stop down the street to climb into his van instead. He’d suggested grabbing breakfast at the Cow-n-Chow, but she’d vetoed it, reminding him of their arrangement by graciously informing him he’d puke if he ate beforehand. He hadn’t taken her courteous warning seriously then, but he didn’t doubt it now.

Skipping breakfast thanks to her was the only reason he found himself in the kitchen rifling through the cabinets. In the back of his head, he could practically hear his mother’s nagging voice telling him to make a proper breakfast of bacon and eggs and all the works, but he tuned it out, especially when the phantom voice insisted he be a good host and fix enough for a guest.

Popcorn was not a balanced meal.

Popcorn did not need to come with him to the gym.

But it did, and he stood on the catwalk, leaning on the rail and munching away at salty buttery puffs as he watched Shego at work. After a short while, he became aware of chatter behind him, and cast a glance back to the array of equipment the rest of the sweaty henchmen were taking a break from.

He caught one nod up at him as they chuckled amongst themselves, and he straightened up and turned his stare sharply back down to the matted corner where Shego had been tutoring the two newcomers.

But she wasn’t there – she’d already crossed the gym and was climbing the stairs in long strides.

Suddenly his mouth was too dry to even grunt a greeting as he watched her make a beeline straight for him, and she paused just in front of him, if only to snatch the bag of popcorn from his hands. The collar of her uniform was unbuttoned and unzipped enough to expose her throat, and for a fleeting moment Drakken was inclined to shoot a suspicious glare down to the two henchmen plopping down to rest. But Shego tugged the collar open further, her chest heaving, and he saw the sweat on her brow and glitter of green fire over her skin and realized she was simply overheating.

She nodded to the door and strode off with his bag of popcorn. He followed, but didn’t take the bag back from her as she filled him in on how promising or hopeless the dropouts were. She’d snacked through a good portion of it by the time they reached her room, at which point she passed the bag of cold popcorn back and asked if she was done for the day.

He wanted to say no. He didn’t forget that this was Sunday, that she’d be busy all morning and then some tomorrow, as she would every day for the rest of the week. But it would be a little on the absurd side to order her to continue exerting herself on a weekend after earning a day off. He checked his watch needlessly, confirming it wasn’t quite noon yet, and gave her a nod.

Before she ducked into her room, she wondered, “You gonna give me a ride back to town?”

“Sure,” he answered a little too quickly.

She gave him a small smile in a halfhearted show of appreciation, and disappeared inside.

Drakken made a point to drive slowly on the ride in. Broaching the subject of a schedule was disheartening in some way. More formal than he would have liked, maybe, but it had to be done if he wanted to see more of her than a few hours here and there whenever she decided she was bored enough to make the trek to the lair.

By the time he dropped her off at the local library, they’d come to an agreement. It worked in his favor that her apartment didn’t have the luxury of air conditioning, because that was the excuse she gave for agreeing to come to the lair in the afternoons to work with the boys for a couple of hours.

Drakken had no qualms with taking a break from the lab to personally make the trip to town every weekday afternoon. It was good to get out for fresh air to clear his head anyway, so he told himself.

He didn’t dare set foot in Buckley’s Brew that first week. Thankfully the civilian Shilo could be found waiting faithfully for him behind the shop, puffing away at a cigarette more often than not. She’d roll her eyes and snuff it out when she saw him coming.

Over the next few days, he diligently oversaw Shego’s mentoring sessions from the catwalk, though he had the courtesy not to bring popcorn to watch the show. It was still a tempting thought nonetheless, but one he resisted. The men were all business, to his relief, and Shego had more self-control than he would have guessed. He’d been worried for nothing.

After training, she’d spend an hour either on his couch in front of the television, or in a spare chair nearby while he worked on his blueprints and began applying them to prototype instruments of torture as the henchmen gradually supplied the parts.

Friday, she voiced her satisfaction with the progress of the henchmen she was tutoring as she met him up on the catwalk. It brought a smile to Drakken’s face – he was sure he’d seen improvement, but he was no expert. He expected her to follow him at a distance to the lab as she had the past few days, but instead she skipped ahead a few paces and walked backwards as she questioned him about Friday night plans, which he had to shake his head and dismiss. He was too busy to be thinking about Friday night merriment.

“You should really get out,” she said in a chiding manner, swinging around to fall into step beside him. “And I don’t mean grocery shopping. You can do that tomorrow.”

“I’m not being your getaway driver so you can rob a 24-Seven, or whatever you have in mind,” Drakken sighed.

“I wasn’t gonna rob anything,” she scoffed. It was hard to believe her when she gave a small laugh, especially when she shrugged and added, “Well, not really. Unless you’re down to dine and dash.”

“Pass.” He didn’t need to be banned from more businesses than he already was.

She was quiet for a moment too long, and he made the mistake of glancing over to see her chewing a nail and watching the floor in a way he’d come to recognize as meaning she was thinking. He snapped his head to stare straight down the hall again when she looked up at him and said, “You have to take me home anyway, so we might as well stop for Chow.”

“Actually I was going to ask Lux to take you,” he lied. It was reflex. It shouldn’t have been reflex. He regretted it almost as soon as he said it, but going back on his word was almost as bad.

“Fine,” she chimed, taking a swift step ahead of him. “Lux works. Goodness knows he’s a junk-food junkie.”

Drakken knew it was reverse psychology. She wasn’t fooling him. Yet he threw his hands in the air anyway, letting out a noise of exasperation as he quickly stalked forward to cut her off on the way into his office. He gave himself half an hour to get the henchmen sent off for the weekend before she was done with her post-workout grooming.

It was pushing it, but when she came trotting back down into the office to ask about her ride, he shrugged and deposited a folder into a filing cabinet. The henchmen weren’t all gone-gone, but they were officially off duty and therefore out of his control.

She snorted and turned on her heel, calling from the stairwell, “Fine. I’ll walk.”

Drakken hesitated behind his desk before hurrying after her. If he wanted to stay in her good favor, then effort on his part had to be made. He’d taken her home – or at least to the library – every night this week, and there was no reason to make the exception now.

Cow-n-Chow was out of the question. She complained as he drove past it, but hummed in consideration when they pulled into a bar and grill instead, only to groan loudly when she saw the karaoke sign in the window. No sooner had they climbed out did a red Beetle pull up alongside the van, and henchmen in casual attire greeted Drakken amicably as they piled out of the clown car. It came as a genuine surprise to him, and maybe not an agreeable one.

Cow-n-Chow down the street was looking a lot more appealing suddenly.

At the first sign of second thoughts, Shego – Shilo – grabbed his arm and tugged him along, smiling wickedly and reminding him, “This was your idea, Doc.”

So it wasn’t just the two of them, but half the henchcrew too. Big deal. She still sat next to him. And when he went up on the platform to take the spotlight, he still had her full attention. Unfortunately for him, she had his as well. She looked him dead in the eye from across the room as she plucked a chicken strip from his platter to munch on. He’d stuttered and slurred a couple lines, but he still earned a few claps for his rendition of Bad Moon Rising, just not from her.

He didn’t feel particularly dignified as he tripped down the stairs either, though that was on him for foolishly glaring at her rather than watching where he was going. His ego was taking a beating lately with her around. Judging by her look, he braced for her to grind salt into the wound, but instead she gave his shoulder a light thump with the back of her hand and rolled her eyes, nonchalantly complimenting, “Alright, that was pretty good.”

She excused herself to use the restroom then, and that was the last he saw of her until Monday afternoon.

She was found smoking behind Buckley’s Brew again, only this time she was chatting with a gal, one of Buckley’s henchgirl apprentices. Making friends wasn’t something he himself had been especially good at, but it was nice to see her give a hearty laugh at some joke and playfully shove her smoking buddy before Drakken ruined the moment with a beep of the horn. Her smile fell when she saw him – he shouldn’t have hated that as much as he did – but she waved goodbye to her coworker and came sauntering over to him nonetheless.

He didn’t linger as long in the gym to supervise that afternoon. He spent less time there on the catwalk the next day, but it was the same old dance as he’d been watching all of last week. He didn’t particularly want to be on the receiving end of her strikes, but he didn’t want to hover with an unreasonable growing envy of the henchmen either.

He had work to do in the lab anyway. She’d come and take her turn to hover soon enough.

At least, until Thursday came, and she didn’t pop up in his lab after the training session. He was determined to not notice, determined to focus on the special order. But after some time of building the framework and upholstering a seat in red leather, he yawned and checked his watch and realized it was nearing midnight and she’d never come around to ask him for a ride home. If he’d hoped to find her on his couch, he was disappointed, but he supposed he deserved her unannounced departure for not speaking a word to her since waving her off to train the henchmen earlier.

She wasn’t waiting for him behind the café on Friday afternoon. But he waited for her, no matter how impatient he was. He even risked venturing into Buckley’s to see if she was still working the counter, but when he asked about their coworker Shilo, the baristas there smiled nastily and feigned ignorance. He didn’t waste any more time there and left without ordering, although in hindsight doing so and tipping may have gotten him better answers.

He was completely caught off guard when Shego showed up in his lab hours later, startling him with the announcement, “Sorry I’m late. I caught a matinee.” It wasn’t a particularly heartfelt apology.

There was no reason for those words to wound him, but they struck him nonetheless. It stung he wasn’t invited after she’d been pestering him about getting out on Fridays all this time. But he knew if he complained, she’d just shoot him down with something along the lines of, “You wouldn’t have gone anyway.”

Just thinking about it, he twisted a bolt too carelessly with too much force. The wrench lost its grip and a pop in the face had him instantly too distracted to give Shego a proper greeting or complain about the exclusion. He had a bloody nose to tend to, and her laughter to run away from.

#The Company You Keep fic #drakgo #drakken #shego

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tsghuntsvillealabama · 4 years

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#stayconnectedHUNTSVILLE

This is our home. And even during these crazy times, living and loving local is even more important than ever! We can still support small businesses and community in Huntsville and our surrounding areas! In order to help everyone with this we have pulled some info about local members and our fair city to do just that!

Take care and be well everyone!

xoxo (but with elbow bumps now), Dawn

Updated: Monday, April 14th - 12:27am

Local Info About Our City of Huntsville

Huntsville City Resource and Information page, remember there are live media briefings weekdays at Noon

Huntsville City Council met on Monday, March 16th and unanimously voted for a state of emergency, The State of Alabama has issued a “Stay at Home” Public Health Order requiring individuals to remain in place at home with exceptions for essential work and certain activities such as buying groceries, going for a run, walking the dog, picking up medicine, visiting a doctor and traveling to and from work (if designated as an essential business or operation). 6 feet of social distance is necessary for all activities.

The order is in effect from 5 p.m. April 4 through 5 p.m. April 30, or extended to further contain the spread of COVID-19 in Huntsville and Madison County.

Downtown Huntsville has a great running list of Downtown Huntsville Restaurants & Retail Stores Expanding Delivery Due To Coronavirus Measures

Huntsville Madison County Chamber also has a good list of local restaurants offering take-out and delivery

WLRH has started a running list of How to Help in the TN Valley

Here is a good list of School and College Closings

Randolph School has a really good centralized information resource page

Efforts for collecting food for kiddos who could go without because of school closures can be found here via Native or Not and Touronimo!

Huntsville Symphony Orchestra has canceled events through the end of March, more info can be found here.

US Space and Rocket Center will be closed till April 3rd.

Update from Progress Bank: Beginning Monday, March 23, our branch lobbies will be accessed by appointment only by calling 888.513.2288. All normal transactions will occur via our drive thru lanes or via curbside service in the absence of a drive-thru. For Business Banking, Private Banking, Mortgage Services and Financial Services, please contact your banker or advisor directly. If you need to access your safe deposit box, please call 888.513.2288. Electronic services: Access Online Banking here, Access Mobile Banking for Apple and Android devices

Burritt on the Mountain is closed until Friday, April 3rd, following the school system closure.

Lowe Mill Arts and Entertainment also follows Huntsville City Schools protocol and will be closing the mill to the public starting Monday, March 16 and could re-open on April 4th. They encourage and welcome everyone to explore their website online so you can get to know all their local artists and makers!

Direct from Fantasy Playhouse Children’s Theatre: “All Classes are postponed immediately. We will not have class from March 16, 2020-April 3, 2020. As of now, we will resume class on April 6, 2020. Subject to change based on the CDC and school closures. Spring Break Camp is cancelled and After School Programs are cancelled. If you have questions about camps or classes, please email Candice at [email protected]. All other questions please email [email protected]. We did not make the decision to close camps and classes lightly and understand the burden that it places on families. We hope you take solace in knowing that this act of social distancing will help our city curb the spread of this terrible illness and keep you and your loved ones safer. Despite the significant challenges this crisis poses, we are a resilient, loving community, and we know that we will get through this together. We speak on behalf of all faculty and staff when we say we look forward to the time when our students can return to their classes and we can gather together as a community once again. Until then, thank you as always for your patience and cooperation.”

Decatur-Morgan Co. Chamber: Approximately 80 percent of your chamber’s membership is small business. It is everything from restaurants to retail to consulting to technology to real estate to the arts and so much more. They are a vital part of our economy and the personality of our community. In light of public health concerns, many of them will be struggling due to social distancing and limited public engagement. So, how can you help? Take a look at this infographic and transition your commerce to both support business and to protect yourself from risk. What are other ways we can support small business? Together, we can do this!

Mark and Ron of In Bloom are offering curb-side pick up from their Five Points location. And they are also making fantastic use of their downtime and started a new all wedding instagram that is already starting to fill up with gorgeous flowers! Be sure and give them a follow on insta!

Shop & Learn From Home or Curbside

Consider gift certificates and purchasing future classes for later from local places who have either sanitized and stayed open or bravely closed their doors to help flatten the curve.

Elitaire Boutique has a great website to shop from! If you have sizing questions Kayla suggests calling one of their stylist - and they are even offering curb-side pick up or delivery straight to your door (within a 10 mile radius). They are also offering free shipping for the next two weeks! And now you can book a private shopping appointment with us! This way you and up to two of your best girlfriends can grab your favorite items at a discount in a clean, safe (and fun!) stress-free environment. Call for your appointment: 256.947.0618

Carriage House will porch deliver & pick up at no charge. You can call them at 256.355.4349 & they will put a box of Spring styles together for you. You won’t even have to leave the house!

Personal Couture is starting front porch, contactless drop offs and pick ups for purchases and consignment!

Direct from Vertical House Records: “Ok y'all. Wednesday will be the last day you will be able to access Vertical House Records unless the Mill figures out a way to keep the gates open. So if you wanna stock up before we all go into hiding, swing through on Wednesday. After that, Andy and I will be trying to brainstorm ways to get music to all of you fine folks. Since our 25,000 albums don't have barcodes, it's a bit tough to get our inventory online quickly. Therefore, we will be accepting lists of your "apocalypse albums" and doing the digging for you. If we have it, we can generate an invoice on paypal and once it's been paid, we can deliver or ship it out to yas! We also have gift certificates available should you want to buy one now and save it for when you can come dig yourself! You are welcome to paypal [email protected] and note "gift certificate" and you will have instant credit with us woo!! We have and always will appreciate you fine Huntsvillians! Thanks so much for your continued support throughout the years. May we all come out of this safe and sound! We love you all! <3″

Jill’s Studio of Dance - TBD

The Topiary Tree - TBD

Eat Out, At Home

GrubSouth has a little bit of everything! If you want a huge variety of great local food delivered straight to your door take a peek at their menus - and now you can select a no-contact delivery option where they will leave it at your door!

Domaine South has closed their doors for two weeks as of March 20th.

Church Street Family is still available for carry-out - this includes: Pourhouse and Mazzara’s Purveyor, Church Street Wine Shoppe

Straight to Ale is available through GrubSouth for our delivery food options, or come pick up a take out order! We’ve got crowlers, growlers, spirits, and food! Open 12-8pm daily.

Sweet City Micros delivers! You can order each week by Thursday for Friday delivery.

Piper and Leaf Shop updates as of Monday, March 16: - P&L x Constitution Park curbside, pickup, and delivery. - P&L x Strong Station curbside, pickup, and delivery. - P&L x Pizitz food Hall pickup, and delivery. - P&L x Lowe Mill curbside, pickup, and delivery. And they have amplified sanitation procedures greatly

We discovered this great reference list for local vendors from Lindsey Keane for The Market at MidCity and wanted to be sure all our awesome local supporters knew about it! There are local eggs, veggies, fruit, honey, meats, breads and microgreens from Sweet City Micros all available with a phone call or email!

Specifically for Ledges Members - Beginning Tuesday, 3/17/2020, The Ledges will offer meals to-go in two formats: Take-Out Meals where Members can order from our dining menus, and our staff will prepare the meals and have them ready for pick up & Pre-Prepared Meals - A daily special will be advertised to the membership. These will be pre-prepared, fully cooked meals the members can then take home and heat with the provided instructions.

Coronavirus Information and Updates

Centers for Disease Control

World Health Organization

Hudson Alpha Sharable Science

#tsghuntsville #huntsvilleal #learn #huntsville

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ebola-kun · 4 years

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Snooze brunch dining establishment to open in midtown Phoenix az's old songs store

A picture of the building and construction internet site of the future Snooze, an A.M. Eatery downtown Phoenix metro site.(Image: Snooze, an A.M. Restaurant)

CONNECTOPINION E-MAIL

inline-share-btn-label inline-share-btn-label-more"> ADDITIONAL A well-known breakfast chain is rejuvenating the outdated Circles Records as well as Tapes in midtown Phoenix for its own latest location.Snooze, an A.M. Restaurant, will move into the area that housed the past music buy decades."Moving in to Circles Records is actually an aspiration happened with for our team," mentioned Beth Cochran, local bad habit president for Snooze." It was love prima facie.

"When the structure opened up in 1947 on McKinley Road and also Central Pathway, it was house to the Stewart

Electric motor Co., which displayed its own Studebakers in the display room. In 1972, Groups relocated right into the building

up until it enclosed 2010. The partially torn-down structure has been actually unused since.PHOTOS: DOWNTOWN PHOENIX AZ BUILDINGS THAT POSSESS BEEN DEMOLISHED A web link has been actually submitted to your Facebook feed.The Fox Theater (left behind)was actually when the grandest flick theatre in Phoenix metro. It was taken down in 1978 to create means for Phoenix az's downtown bus terminal. The State

The Lodging Adams was folded up in the 1970s to give way for other structures. The Republic The Fleming Building was completed in 1883. It was actually dismantled virtually 100 years later on in the 1980s. Thanks To Fennemore Craig PC Stewart Electric motor Co. is actually revealed at Central Method as well as McKinley Street in the 1940s. The internet site later on housed Circles Disks as well as Tapes. Angela Cara Pancrazio, Phoenix Metro Historic Preservation Office In 2015, this structure on Roosevelt Street as well as Third Road was actually demolished. It was when the well-known gay bar 307 Lounge. Dave Seibert/The State

The Sahara Motor Lodge opened up in 1956 at the section of First Street as well as Polk Road. It became the

Ramada Lodge in the 1960's. The Commonwealth

The Lodging S. James was developed in 1928. It was destroyed in 2012. The Commonwealth

The Industrial Congress Structure at Central Opportunity and also Madison Road was actually constructed in 1914. It was dismantled in 2014 to make method for the Luhr's Town hall that features a brand new Marriott tower hotels and resort. The State Intrigued in this subject matter? You might also wish to check out these picture galleries: When the midtown Snooze opens up late this year, it will certainly be the

Denver-based chain's sixth Valley location, participating in others all over Phoenix and also the East Valley.The downtown decoration will appear like the other Snoozes, from the dynamic color design to the iconic circular displays. Building and construction starts this month on the 5,390-square-foot area that includes a mezzanine degree, an attribute one-of-a-kind to this location. The initial establishment front are going to remain intact.The Bravocado Toast at Snooze, an A.M. Eatery. (Image: Snooze, an A.M. Eatery)

The provider are going to hire regarding 75 workers, known as "Snoozers."

Snooze food selection

Snooze projects a character that is anything but sleepy. The location is actually known for occupying dishes along with lively labels (Ooo La Frittata, OMG! French Tribute), mind-blowing cocktails and also a lively restaurant setting ("Satisfied Times" finds "The Jetsons").

The OMG French toast at Snooze, an A.M. Restaurant.

(Photograph: George Lange Digital photography)Crowd-pleasing layers feature:

The breakfast weed pie at Snooze, an A.M. Restaurant.(Photo: Snooze, an A.M. Eatery )Among the

buzzy drinks are: A lineup of grisly Marys at Snooze, an A.M. Restaurant.(Image: Snooze,

an A.M. Restaurant)Main area Snooze's downtown location at 800 N. Central Ave. is actually one stop away from the public transportation and also beside The Stewart Apartments, a deluxe 19-story structure slated to open early this year.

The Stewart's ownership was actually hoping to include a bistro, while Snooze desired to be midtown, as well, Cochran said.A making of the potential midtown Phoenix az Snooze, an A.M. Eatery.(Picture: Snooze, an A.M. Eatery) "I enjoy how midtown Phoenix is actually thriving and also viewed it as a great opportunity for our company to create that a brand new neighborhood and neighborhood to communicate to," she said.As along with all Snooze places, 1 per-cent coming from the midtown restaurant will definitely return to 3 neighborhood nonprofits. In 2014, this plan given much more than $800,000 to nonprofits nationwide, she said.Snooze, an A.M. Restaurant Blueberry upside down pancakes at Snooze, an A.M. Eatery.(Photograph: Snooze, an A.M. Restaurant)Where: Position in overdue 2019 at 800 N. Central Ave., southern of Roosevelt Street, Phoenix.Hours: 6:30 a.m.-2:30 p.m. everyday(all sites) A hyperlink has actually been submitted to your Facebook feed.

EARLY MORNING GLORY CAFE|The farm-to-table brunch menu consists of favorites like the B.E.S.T. Morning Meal Sandwich($13.95), a cooked sandwich with applewood-smoked bacon, eggs, green spinach, tomato, Gruyere cheese and also mayo provided along with Farm house french fries. Filled along with house-smoked steelhead trout, the smoked trout board ($14.95)possesses cooked bagel, cream cheese and also capers, cut red onions as well as Campari tomatoes. On weekends, Julia's hen enchiladas($14.95)has ended up being a custom along with chick, corn tortillas, house-made condiment verde, softened cheese and pair of over-easy eggs. Offered 8-11 a.m. Tuesdays-Fridays as well as 8 a.m.-1 p.m. weekend breaks.|PARTICULARS: The Ranch at South Hill, 6106 S. 32nd St., Phoenix Az. 602-276-6360, thefarmatsouthmountain.com/morning-glory-patio. Early Morning Magnificence Cafe DORIAN|Approaching its initial anniversary, the Old Town Scottsdale bistro serves breakfast 8 a.m.-2 p.m. daily. Yearning something hearty? The chilaquiles($14 )is made along with tortilla potato chips, red or even green sauce, 2 eggs, Machaca, Oaxaca cheese, creme fraiche, avocado cream as well as salsa. Avocado, poached egg as well as saffron hollandaise on toasted Noble breadstuff($10)is actually the answer when you require something gratifying. For sunlight hungers , there are 3 kinds of parfaits($7) along with fruit product, granola and honey Greek natural yogurt.|DETAILS: 7419 E. Indian Plaza, Scottsdale. 480-907-5635, dorianscottsdale.com. Dorian POMELO AT THE PLANTATION|The brunch food selection obtains a breath of clean sky with brand new things like the short rib Benedict made with braised short ribs, poached eggs, drew pig, environment-friendly chile, mozzarella and condiment, served along with morning meal potatoes($16 ). For$twenty per individual, the new infinite Rosé Throughout the day enables for 2 hrs of infinite increased. Served 10 a.m.-3 p.m. weekends|PARTICULARS: 7100 N. 12th Street, 602-633-2600

, pomelophx.com. Pomelo at the Plantation ROTT N'GRAPES|This new restaurant on Roosevelt Row offers breakfast foods like crepes loaded along with mascarpone whip, in season fruit as well as goat's milk caramel ($ 9); and also a three-egg backyard scramble along with corn, cauliflower, Capital sprouts, reddish pepper, onion as well as Fontina($11). An eggs Benedict food along with Nueski applewood-smoked Canadian sausage as well as crispy potatoes($14)costs a review. Provided 9:30 a.m.-2 p.m. weekends.|DETAILS: 1001 N. ThirdAve. # 1, Phoenix az. 602-346-0068. 4750 N Central Ave., Phoenix. 602-888-1667, rottngrapes.com. Rott n' Grapes TACO CHELO|Restaurateur Aaron Chamberlin's brand new taqueria on Roosevelt Row features brand-new breakfast dishes foods like chilaquiles ($7), huevos rancheros($7)and morning meal burritos($7.50). For a mimosa substitute, use the Mezcal Paloma, brought in with Agave de Cortes mezcal, lime, ginger root, Peychaud's bitters and also grapefruit soft drink. Provided 11 a.m.-3 p.m. weekends.|INFORMATION: 501 E. Roosevelt St., Phoenix Az. 602-368-5316, tacochelo.com. Taco Chelo COLOR SCHEME|While enjoying the sights, delight in an assortment of brunch things, such as the Farmer's Omelet ($thirteen) with green spinach, tomatoes, mushrooms and also Crow's Milk goat cheese; or the challah French tribute ($13,50 )along with clean berries, sugar-cinnamon butter as well as dulce syrup. Drink on$5 mimosas and Bloody Marys, inside or even on the patio area in the Sculpture Garden. Provided 11 a.m.-3:30 p.m. weekends .|PARTICULARS: 1625 N. Central Ave., Phoenix Az. 602-257-2191, phxart.org/palette. Phoenix Craft

Museum THE HOT TOAD|A Cave Spring institution for greater than four many years, The Horny Toad includes a new morning meal food selection along with convenience foods like poultry and also Belgian waffle ($ 9.99)and huevos rancheros($9.99 ), helped make with chorizo refried beans and also house-made ranchero sauce. A twist on custom, the taken pork parfait($5.99 )features barbeque took pork split along with mashed potatoes and also top secret dressing. Offered 8 a.m.-noon weekend breaks and also Monday holiday seasons.|INFORMATION: 6738 E. Cavern Spring Road, Cave Creek. 480-488-9542, thehornytoad.com. The Horny Toad WASTED GRAIN|After a current remodel, the downtown Scottsdale bistro added a Garden Breakfast Expertise, offered 10 a.m.-1 p.m. weekends. Rest on the new dog-friendly outdoor patio and munch on hot cakes($11 )packed along with nostalgic grains, coming from Froot Loops to Sugar-cinnamon Salute crunch. Attempt Southern-style biscuits and gravy boat and also mimosa birthday cakes( $12), which are actually champagne-infused pancakes with pulled cream and also orange passion.|PARTICULARS: 7295 E. Stetson Travel, Scottsdale. 480-970-0500, wastedgrain.com. Wasted GrainRNR|This gastropub resumed in overdue August after a seven-week remodelling that featured design and also menu updates. At breakfast, attempt the green chile took pork morning meal taco ($10) along with scrambled eggs, green chiles and also pepper Jack cheese; or the Chambord French salute($thirteen)topped along with fresh raspberries, Chambord-infused cream cheese as well as Chantilly cream. A lighter option is actually the avocado toast($10) is topped with roasted corn, a hard-boiled egg and also feta on Noble bread. Served 9 a.m.-3 p.m. weekends.|INFORMATION: 3737 N. Scottsdale Road, Scottsdale. 480-945-3353, rnrscottsdale.com RnR THIRSTY COUGAR GASTRO CLUB & GRILL|Along with 15 entrees on the breakfast food selection, it's easy to discover something you like, particularly on the spicy edge. The adobo pork Benedict($12.95 )features chile pig atop jalapeño corn bread with a poached egg and also chipotle hollandaise dressing. The Planter's Hash($ 12.95)is actually created along with walnut sausage, tomatoes, spicy Italian sausage, whites potato, peppers and onions covered along with Port cheese and a deep-fried egg. The spicy panned fry chicken as well as waffles ($ 13.95 )gets it kick from a jalapeño buttermilk batter. Served 10 a.m.-2 p.m. weekend breaks.|PARTICULARS: 2212 E. Williams Field Street, Gilbert. 480-899-0119. Scottsdale Fashion Trend Square, Scottsdale and Camelback roads, Scottsdale. 480-284-7292. Other areas at thirstyliongastropub.com. Thirsty Cougar Gastro Bar & Grill CIDER CORPS|Receive "Breakfast and also Cidermosas"as well as try the new Cidermosa ($4), a mix of Danzeisen Dairy products's orange juice along with Cider Corps'conventional bottom cider. Biscuit Addicts, a meals vehicle, provides the breakfast menu. Offerings consist of the Hammer Club sandwich($9) along with Creepy potatoes, scurried eggs, African-american Rainforest ham and also Swiss as well as nacho cheeses packed in a Cheddar cookie; and also the Green Chile Fan($9 ), a dark-green chile biscuit surrounded in dark-green chile pig, cheese and a over-easy egg, offered on a bed of whites potato. Offered 10 a.m.-2 p.m. Sundays.|INFORMATION: 31 S. Robson St., Mesa. cidercorpsaz.com. Cider Corps CASA DEL MAR CAFE|Searching for a smoking cigarettes package? Head listed here for a breakfast smorgasbord($12.88)that gives all-you-can-eat foods like Hawaiian French tribute, cherry-smoked sausage and also scurried egg whites with spinach and tomatoes. Served 9 a.m.-1 p.m. Sundays.|INFORMATION: 18209 W. Calistoga Drive, Goodyear. 623-296-0991, facebook.com/beachhousefoodandspirits. Casa Del Mar Cafe HAYMAKER|Longing breakfast for supper? This bistro with 2 West Lowland sites has actually launched a brand-new food selection stuffed with all-day brunch choices, including country fried meat and eggs($12)with home bratwurst gravy provided on a buttermilk biscuit and also choice of potato. The Haymaker Benedict($15 )helps make an effective situation along with pounded potatoes, panned fry

chicken, sauteed green spinach, hickory-smoked bacon, barbequed tomato, Cheddar, scurried eggs as well as chipotle cream sauce.|INFORMATION: 1800 N. Litchfield Roadway, Goodyear. 623-536-9000. Also, 24762 N. Lake Pleasant Parkway, Peoria. 623-566-1515, haymakeraz.com. Haymaker AMUSE BOUCHE|Enjoy French breakfast foods like quiche du jour

, made with gourmet chef's choice of vegetable as well as Swiss cheese, country whites potato and also an eco-friendly mixed greens ($thirteen ). Make an effort a savory crepe full of green spinach and tomatoes, topped along with Mornay sauce, as well as likewise served along with whites potato and salad ($10); include 2 scurried eggs for $3. Hat your brunch with New Orleans-style beignets($5-$ 7). Offered 8 a.m.-1 p.m. Sundays.|DETAILS: 17058 W. Alarm Street, Surprise. 623-322-8881, amuseboucheaz.com. Amuse Bouche Appealed to in this subject matter? You may also wish to check out these photograph pictures: Want more headlines like this? Visit this site to subscribe to azcentral.com. Most likely to for a personnel list, for even more information

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