#like an inside joke between them... or something she got during/after a memorable mission they were on together... etc...

[hiddenbeks]

thinking abt liah and alek again :/

[kakashisacademia]

pairing: satoru x you | warnings: none

summary; after leaving the jujutsu high three years ago you’re finally back and Satoru struggles with the feelings he develops for you

a/n: the whole fanfiction is written from Satoru’s POV

ೃ⁀➷ Ch. 2: The Distance Between Us

Satoru should have said no to the mission.

The second Yaga handed him the file, the second he said, “you and her will handle it”, Satoru should have thrown up every wall he had.

Instead he smiled. Made some stupid joke about being the ‘dream team‘. Pretended his pulse hadn’t spiked like a curse was already sinking its teeth into him.

Now here they were, two hours into a silent car ride, rain hammering the windows, her curled in the passenger seat, tapping her fingers absently against her thigh.

Every movement, every breath she took, it scraped against his nerves raw and bloody.

Satoru kept his eyes on the road. White-knuckled the steering wheel like it would stop his hands from shaking.

Say something, idiot. Make a joke. Make her laugh.

But he couldn’t.

Because every time he looked at her, the curve of her jaw in the shifting gray light, the way her hair kept falling into her eyes, all he could think about was how goddamn grown she was.

And how fucking wrong it was to notice it.

“You’re quiet,” she said finally, voice soft, pulling him back from the cliff edge he didn’t realize he was standing on.

He risked a glance sideways.

She was smiling, small and tentative, like she wasn’t sure if it was still allowed.

“I’m always quiet,” Satoru lied.

She laughed under her breath. “Since when?”

The sound of it cracked something open inside him. He gripped the wheel tighter.

“If I start talking, you might realize I got even more annoying with age,” Satoru said, forcing a smirk.

“You could never,” she said, like it was obvious, like it was true, and turned back to the window before he could see whatever emotion flickered across her face.

He stared at her a second longer than he should have. Long enough to memorize the way the light traced the line of her nose, the soft curve of her mouth. Long enough to imagine, just for a second, reaching across the console and tucking that stray strand of hair behind her ear.

His throat tightened.

He turned the radio on - static, the only thing loud enough to drown out the thoughts clawing through his skull.

They made it to the town just before sunset.

The mission itself was easy. Too easy. Small curse infestation at an abandoned building. Basic clean-up job.

He should have been grateful.

Instead he hated it. Hated how it put her in danger at all.

Even if she fought like hell. Even if she was stronger than he remembered, every flicker of cursed energy near her made his heart stop in his chest.

When it was done, she wiped her blade clean on the hem of her shirt, cheeks flushed from exertion, hair sticking to her temples.

She caught him staring. Raised an eyebrow.

“What?” she asked, breathless.

Satoru shook his head, too quickly. “Nothing. Good job, rookie.”

She rolled her eyes, but smiled. And he felt that stupid, dangerous heat bloom in his chest again.

They headed back toward the main road, rain starting up again, heavier this time.

The inn Yaga had booked for them was tiny. A half-forgotten place on the edge of town.

Warm yellow lights, creaking floors, the smell of old wood and rain soaked into the walls.

The old woman behind the counter smiled at them with a few missing teeth and said the words that would haunt him for the rest of the night.

“Only one room left.”

Satoru opened my mouth, ready to protest, to demand a second room, a closet, a damn tent. But she was already handing over the key, chatting about how lucky they were to get a place at all during the festival weekend.

Satoru glanced at her.

She shrugged, like it didn’t bother her.

Like it wasn’t killing him on the inside.

They made their way upstairs, ancient wooden steps creaking under our feet, and found the room at the end of the hall. The door stuck when he tried to open it. Because of course it did.

She laughed softly behind him, and it hit him like a fucking bullet how good it felt to hear her laugh, even if he was falling apart inside.

Inside, the room was small. One bed. Faded curtains.An old desk shoved against the wall. A radiator rattling in the corner.

She set her bag down by the chair, stretching her arms over her head.

The hem of her shirt lifted, just a sliver, just enough to show the soft skin of her stomach.

Just enough to ruin him.

Satoru turned away so fast he almost tripped over the chair.

“I’ll take the floor,” he said too quickly, voice rough.

She paused. He felt her eyes on my back, warm, questioning, burning through him.

“Satoru,” she said. And god, hearing her say his name like that, soft and familiar and nothing like the way the students said it, made his knees weak. “Satoru, it’s fine. The bed’s big enough.”

He laughed, sharp and brittle, the sound of a man coming apart at the seams.

“Trust me,” he said. “It’s not about space.”

Silence stretched between them.

He heard her sigh, soft and tired and full of something he couldn’t name, and when he finally found the courage to turn around, she was already pulling the comforter and a spare pillow off the bed and tossing them at him.

“Suit yourself,” she said, trying for casual.

But he saw it, the hurt flickering behind her eyes.

And it broke him.

He slept on the floor. Or at least he tried to.

The wood was hard, the radiator clanked all night, and every time she shifted in the bed above him, his heart jumped like a curse was breathing down his neck.

At some point, near dawn, he heard her whimper in her sleep.

Small. Pained.

Satoru sat up so fast his vision blurred.

She twisted under the blanket, mumbling and breathing too fast.

A nightmare.

Without thinking, he was on his knees beside the bed, reaching out, hand hovering above her shoulder, not sure if he should wake her, not sure if he could touch her without breaking everything.

But she turned her face toward him. Even half-asleep, even trapped in some dream and whispered, “Don’t go.”

And that was it.

That was the moment.

He slid onto the edge of the bed, slow, careful, like any sudden move might shatter the whole fragile world between them.

He brushed the hair from her forehead, light as a breath, and she leaned into the touch without waking.

His hand trembled.

God, Satoru wanted…

He wanted everything.

He wanted to press his mouth to her temple.

He wanted to pull her into his arms and never let her go.

He wanted to give her every piece of him he had kept locked away all these years.

She blinked up at him, groggy, confused, and for one terrifying, beautiful moment, their eyes met.

Her hand found his and curled around it. Slow, tentative.

He should have pulled away. He should have run.

Instead he leaned in, helpless and aching, until their faces were inches apart. Her breath ghosted over his lips soft, warm and so real.

He saw it then in her eyes the same longing. The same fear. The same desperation to not be the only one breaking.

Her fingers tightened around his like a question.

And before he could stop myself, before he could think about consequences or guilt or the years that separated them, he started to close the distance.

Inches. Breaths.

Close enough that he could taste the salt of her skin. Close enough that he could feel her heartbeat hammering against his. Close enough to lose everything.

And just as our lips brushed, just as the world tilted toward something unstoppable-

A knock slammed against the door.

They jerked apart like they had been burned. Breathing hard, shattered.

“Mission update!” someone called from the hallway. “Emergency meeting downstairs!”

Satoru stared at her, wide-eyed, wrecked. And she stared back, cheeks flushed, hand still tangled in Satoru’s.

Neither of them moved. Neither of them could.

[bistevethor]

Steve Rogers Fanfiction Recommendations

Happy birthday, Steve!

I know that there are some (a lot?) of steve fans who sometimes struggle to find fics focused on him, so I am here now putting a list of Steve fics. I was going to fics that I haven't seen recommended a lot and most of the ones on this post have less than 200 kudos only, but I end up putting everything (it's probably easier to put my bookmarks as public but well...). It's a massive list (over 100 fics?), so it's will be separated into several posts/reblogs.

Not all of them are from Steve's POV or even have him as the main 'main' character, but rest assured he played an important role and is featured heavily. Lots of these are friendship-focused but I categorized them. The shippy ones are mostly samsteve, thundershield, and some rare pairings because I don't venture to other ships a lot and when I did it's to the rare ones instead lol. Hopefully, any of you can find some gems from this list and these are as enjoyable or as good as I remembered. I'll continue to update it, hopefully, every time I find new ones.

Fics are under read more.

General

The Rocket's Red Glare

Steve was born on the Fourth of July (no joke), so a party is in order! Unfortunately, PTSD decides to rear its ugly head. Fortunately, Steve's got an entire team at his back to help him through it. And screaming goats.

an entry in the scrapbook of absurdity

In which Steve turns into a baby and bites people.

Baby Steve Adventures

Captain America gets hit by a spell during a battle. The rest of the Avengers look after him.

Do You Remember Being Happy? ('Cause I Sure Don't)

"Dragr," Thor called them. "Demons" Clint had said. "Thieves" is what Steve labels them as. AKA, the one where Steve is captured by creatures that feed off of happy memories, and the team is left to pick up the pieces. Post-Avengers.

In Search of (Bucky, Family, Home)

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov & Sam Wilson

A week following the events of CATWS, Steve recruits Natasha and Sam to help find Bucky.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Do we need to recap again? You were shot three times, beaten near to death by an enhanced super soldier with a metal arm and then almost drowned. Yeah, your ass is going to need a few more days of healing time.”

The Truth When Captains Meet

Steve Rogers wakes up on an alien’s space ship being carried bridal style by Carol Danvers. As far as first meetings go, it’s memorable.

Irish Coffee

Pairings: Jessica Jones & Steve Rogers

Jessica runs into an incognito Cap at a cafe. They form an unlikely friendship of sorts.

The Lifetimes of Steve Rogers (Series)

What happens when Steve Rogers steps onto the quantum platform to return the Stones? Where does he go? What challenges does he find? Who does he meet? How many lifetimes can one man have?

Fifty-Two Pickup

Less than a week after the fall of the Triskelion, Steve Rogers is released from the hospital. Although his physical wounds are almost fully healed, other injuries need a bit more time, and some help from friends.

little kids get big so fast

Steve ends up having to take care of the deaged Defenders.

Grampa Steve's Bedtime Stories

If Mommy was away for work, then Morgan’s Grampa Steve came over to stay with her. He’d tuck her in, let her give Mommy a kiss on video chat, then hand her the picture of Daddy for his kiss. Once Daddy’s picture was back on the bookshelf, Grampa Steve would turn off the bedside lamp so that Miss Friday could cover the ceiling with stars, and ask Morgan what story she wanted to hear.

“Captain Steve, Grampa! Tell me Captain Steve!”

Grampa Steve sometimes read to her from books and other times watched a movie with her, but her favorite by far was when he told her Captain Steve’s Adventures Through the Multiverse.

On Camping Trips

Sam is more Hermione than Natasha is, and Steve doesn't want to be Harry.

Powerful

Steve loses the advantages of the super-soldier serum. This is not a tragedy.

His Dream

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson

As if on cue, Steve cut him off with a loud sneeze.

"Yeah. Like that." Sam nodded. "And please sneeze into your elbow next time, dude. You could've just started an epidemic."

"Sorry. Allergies." Steve excused, and Sam raised an eyebrow.

"How do you know it's allergies?" Sam asked, and Steve sighed, putting the ingredients together and solving the mystery of what the gas had actually done.

The answer wasn't ideal. "It feels like the seasonal allergies I had before. Before the serum- and I haven't had them since the serum."

Realization clicked in Sam's head.

"The gas de-serumed you."

Steve swallowed and nodded reluctantly.

OR: Steve gets temporarily de-serumed, with his height and stature staying the same but his immune system being as bad as it was before, and has to stay in the hospital to prevent a severe allergic reaction or illness. Sam stays with him the whole time, making sure he's not alone.

A Strange Encounter

Things have gone awry and Strange is injured. With no other options, he's called for assistance from Captain America and his team.

even if we're apart, i'll always be with you

Steve finds a dirty toy bear at an abandoned gas station, on the way back from a school trip. He brings him home.

As Long as You’re Not Tired Yet of Talking

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov

When Steve Rogers tells her, “Don’t be a stranger,” as they’re all going their own ways after New York, it makes her want to laugh.

Draw/Breath

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov

Natasha like knowing what makes people tick. She likes knowing things, about her teammates and her coworkers and herself. Oddly enough, sometimes other people like knowing her too.

AKA: Natasha wants to know why Steve isn’t drawing anymore, and takes the long way round to get her answer. Because why not.

With Magic We Do Fly

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff & Steve Rogers

In Civil War we see Wanda fling Steve into the air with her magic. They must have practiced that, right?

Que Wanda throwing Steve against a wall. Many times.

Just Like We Practiced

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff & Steve Rogers

Steve had said, in the movie when he asked Wanda to lift him into the building, "Just like we practiced." But just how did they come up with the idea of her lifting people with her powers, and putting them up somewhere like an escalator? Perhaps it was because Wanda accidentally sent a certain tall, blond Avenger face-first into the floor once and he decided he would help her learn to utilize this as a confidence building exercise. Natasha keeps an eye, Thor and Sam help build the training grounds, and Wanda has found her new home. Takes place between AGE OF ULTRON and CIVIL WAR.

Black and White but Red and Blue

They're watching black and white film reels, but Steve sees them in colour.

"My shield may be black and white but it was red and blue. Just like the blue sky under which red blood was spilled. Like Bucky's blue eyes and Peggy's red lips..."

The Road Warriors

Characters: Sam Wilson (Marvel), Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Wanda Maximoff

It wasn't pretty, but somehow the four of them managed to make it through two years on the run.

We'll Fix It

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov

Steve has a hard time after his battle with The Winter Soldier and isn't sure what to do with himself. After not seeing him for a week, Natasha finally shows up to his apartment unannounced to figure out how they can get back to work. There is some crying involved.

From Here On Out

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov

The Accords, the search for Bucky, the fight at the airport ... In a world where nothing will ever be the same, sometimes the road to rebuilding trust and friendship is a little rockier than it should be.

AKA, the story of Steve & Natasha and how they got to where they are.

Set post-Civil War but pre-Infinity War.

I have this breath and I hold it tight

Parings: Wanda Maximoff & Steve Rogers, Clint Barton & Wanda Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff & Vision

Steve finally goes to Wanda’s tiny room and taps on the doorframe, although it’s hardly necessary, with the slightly warped floorboards creaking under his feet. “Hey,” he says. “Got a minute?”

Wanda's been a little withdrawn since Steve broke everyone out of the Raft. She's had a lot to think about.

to you.

Pairings: Pietro Maximoff & Wanda Maximoff, Clint Barton & Wanda Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff & Natasha Romanov, Wanda Maximoff & Steve Rogers, Wanda Maximoff & Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff & Tony Stark

It's Wanda's birthday today. She's not sure how to feel.

New Love

Pairings: Diana (Wonder Woman) & Steve Rogers

Near the end of World War II, Diana Prince finds herself attempting to reconnect to her long-gone, beloved Steve Trevor. However, she comes across Steve Rogers instead.

Sharing Life (And Canned Green Beans)

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov

It’s Thanksgiving, and Steve is hiding in the second living room on the 8th floor of the penthouse apartments with a can of green beans.

I'm Fine

Steve slowly began to realize that the problem with being a national icon, a hero, and a role model, is that somehow, he became more than human. He become a symbol, not a person. So when he becomes increasingly unhappy, deeply depressed, and utterly adrift in a world where he doesn't belong, the loneliness and isolation are unbearable. How could anyone believe that an iconic hero like himself was really just an ordinary kid from Brooklyn, dying inside because everything he'd gained still wasn't enough to replace everything he'd lost? How could he possibly bring himself to bleed on the ones he loves? So he tells himself the same lie over and over, hoping one day, he'll believe it.

dogpile

"My dog ate my mission report" An injured Steve remembers something he has to do. Unabashed Steve and dogs fluff. "Didn't peg you for a pet guy." "Allergies."

Alone In This World (Together)

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov & Sam Wilson

“We’re fugitives,” Steve said finally. “It might never get better.”

“The world’s always going to need saving," Sam replied. "We’re still Avengers. No one can take that away from us.” Then, like they hadn't been having an entire conversation before, “So when do we leave?”

“Once night falls.”

Do we have any idea where she is?”

“No.” Steve took a sip of his coffee. “But I know where she’ll be.”

it gets the worst at night

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov

Here's how it goes: Natasha sometimes shares a bed with Steve. It's not what it sounds like.

(In which there are Colombian drug lords, awkward boners, cuddly super-soldiers and the Avengers are all giant dorks.)

Shelter

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson

Sam and Steve, right after the fall of SHIELD.

Princely Bickering

Pairings: Jane Foster/Thor, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers & Jane Foster, Steve Rogers & Thor

Steve allows Sam to lean up and inspect his head for bruises and blood. He then checks out Steve’s eyes. ‘Do you know where you are?’ Steve rolls his eyes. ‘Don’t be an ass, Cap, apparently you can break.’ ‘London, England, chasing apparently useless Hydra intel despite having about five hundred international arrest warrants out for us because we’re just that stupid,’ says Steve. Sam pats him - gently - on the shoulder. Life on the run isn't easy, especially not after an injury. Fortunately Steve still has a few allies left.

And The Seconds Tick Down

AU of Civil War. How the world ended in twenty steps when Steve died.

"Grant" and "Francis" Go Shopping

Pairings: Clint Barton & Steve Rogers

Steve and Clint both have holiday shopping to do for their family of choice, so they make a day trip to an outlet mall, have a few heart to hearts, use some coupons, buy a bunch of presents, and eventually get through their shopping lists.

A Tune Without Words

Pairings: Jane Foster/Thor, Steve Rogers & Thor, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson

As he and Sam prepare to begin searching for Bucky, Steve gets various offers of help—some more unexpected than others.

Purpose

Tony Stark wins the fight in Siberia completely by accident.

Steve Rogers does not resist his arrest as he is taken to the Raft.

Sam Wilson, T'Challa, and Pepper Potts pick up the pieces.

Full of Wounds and Still Standing on my Feet

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Wanda Maximoff

The five times Steve looked out for Wanda, and one time Wanda decided someone needed to look out for Steve.

Three Awakenings

The first three times that Steve Rogers woke up during his first twenty-four hours in the twenty-first century.

Making Your Own Future

Characters: Steve Rogers, Diana Prince, Steve Trevor Five times -- plus one -- that Diana Prince and Steve Rogers encountered one another.

Better Living Through Pizza

Pairings: Clint Barton & Steve Rogers

Steve takes some time off from soldiering and Avengering to get his head on straight, and Clint is assigned to keep an eye on him, because apparently SHIELD believes in the blind leading the blind. Steve really needs a hobby, since modern television shows baffle him, but Clint keeps bringing him DVDs and pizza.

Five Times Clint Barton Spoke with Steve Rogers about Growing Old and the One Time He Didn't.

Pairings: Clint Barton & Steve Rogers

When Steve Rogers reappeared from the past as an old man, there was a lot of catching up to do. Clint Barton made sure nobody got left behind.

Hammer's Totally Heavy-Handed and Incompetent Revenge

"So, at the end of IM2, Justin Hammer swears revenge on Pepper. He waits until Tony and Rhodey are halfway across the world to launch his attack.

Unfortunately for him, thanks to SHIELD, Iron Man and War Machine aren't the only superheroes in Pepper's rolladex. Steve thinks Pepper's just swell and doesn't take too kindly to somebody trying to hurt her."

Cue badass!Steve and competent!Pepper

Fan Mail

Steve starts getting his fan mail and receives an invitation to the prom. Written for a prompt at the Avengers kink meme. It was a great prompt, and so much fun to write and get feedback for!

Prom. Steve 'Grandpa Iceberg' Rogers at a 21st-century high school prom. "This isn't happening. This whole conversation is just an elaborate practical joke. Bruce really just has orders for widgets or something."

Bruce waved the printouts at him. "Fraid not. I don't really do practical jokes. Messing with other people's moods just seems. I don't know. Karmically unwise."

Mascot

Steve runs. People see Steve run. Steve gets adopted by the neighbourhood he runs through every week day morning. He finds this confusing. Tony finds it amusing.

Locks Not Replaced

Tony angsts back at Avengers' HQ, Ross is a bully and Steve makes sure he doesn't get away with it. In other words, there is much regret, a bit on the philosophy of locks, adventure and far too many Robin Hood metaphors.

woof

For a prompt on the avengers kinkmeme: "...something different happens when Steve gets Dr Erskine's serum plus the Vita ray treatment... Steve does get taller and stronger, but when the first full moon hits, he turns into a big friendly looking dog. Yes, he's a weredog, not a werewolf."

Mission: Baby

Pairings: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers

The Asset finds himself in charge of the care of a small baby, but somehow he knows—he has to protect the baby from all harm, whatever the cost.

14 Tracks

Pairings: Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Avengers Team 14 tracks from Steve's iPod and how they got on there.

Life Will Rattle Your Bones

Pairings: Erik Lehnsherr & Steve Rogers

Captain America and the Howling Commandos find Schmidt sooner than they thought... wait, what do you mean this is a *different* Schmidt?

In war-torn Germany, the paths of Steve Rogers and Erik Lehnsherr cross, part, and cross again.

come build me up

Pairings: Sharon Carter & Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers

“Do you ever feel like -- like you joined up because you wanted to do good. You wanted to do the right thing but somewhere along the way, you just lost the whole fucking plot.”

“All of the time.”

Or: the one where Captain America and Agent 13 give long distance friendship a whirl.

Down in the Worn Out Place Again

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Wanda Maximoff

“You don't look a day over 85, Captain,” Wanda says.

Natasha smiles, just barely, and nudges Steve with her elbow. “She makes jokes now.”

(Post AoU, stories about friendship.)

Satellites

Characters: Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Tony Stark, Clint Barton, Nick Fury Pairings: Natasha Romanov & Steve Rogers, Minor Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson, Minor Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov

In the immediate aftermath of SHIELD's collapse and Steve's plunge into the Potomac, Natasha considers her place in the world. Also the fact that Steve is depressing.

Timeless Classics

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Avengers Team Five An undetermined number of times (six, apparently) Steve unexpectedly got the reference (sort of), and one time everyone discovered something new together.

you just wait and see

Pairings: Rocket Raccoon & Steve Rogers

“Thor said you’re the captain.” Rogers says, his voice distant, sad smile growing into a sadder grin. “Tough job.”

The Small Hours

Pairings: Steve Rogers & T'Challa, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers

"I'm not getting him back, am I." The words were flatly delivered – not a question so much as fatigued resignation. "We will do everything we can to help him," T'Challa quietly replied, but he wouldn't lie, not about this. Not to a fellow warrior he respected on and off the field of battle. "The possibility does exist, however, that the triggers are permanent."

The Man We All Remember From the Newsreels

Still getting used to the twenty-first century, Steve comforts himself with memories of long-gone friends. But Howard Stark, the man Steve remembers, is nothing like the man he sees in the newsreels.

we're all choir boys at best

Characters: Steve Rogers, Johnny Storm

You are totally getting laid tonight. "Please stop talking." You hijacked my brain first, this is totally not my fault.

Epistaxis

Steve doesn't worry the first time he gets a bloody nose that won't quit. But when it happens a second, third, fourth... He, and his teammates, start to get concerned.

You Close Your Eyes and the Glory Fades

His body isn’t his own, he knows that, knew before the procedure that everything would change. That was the easiest thing to wrap his head around, actually, the physical changes. He’s used to his body betraying him, so this is just another thing to learn his way around. But the colors of everything, even the sliver of blue sky he could see, craning his head at the tiny window, look different.

Looking For Answers (From The Great Beyond)

After the Battle of New York is over, and Loki and the tesseract are returned to Asgard, Steve takes a road trip across the country, and tries to figure out what he wants to do next.

Mourning the Future

Steve's ties to the past and the future are pretty tenuous, and the serum ensures he lives in an eternal present state of ever-youthful vigour. When an old war buddy gets handed his last marching orders, Steve has to wonder if everyone will eventually leave.

Riviera Life

Sam and Steve have been traversing Europe looking for Bucky. Not everyone is convinced it isn’t an open invitation road trip.

Voluntary Bros.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Johnny Storm

"Dude, you could be twins, they tested you before they defrosted you to see if you were a clone or something, or if he was a clone," Clint said.

"I want to talk to him, I think. I mean, a girl threw her latte at me last week for not calling her back and this dude felt me up at an art gallery yesterday," Steve said.

Two Brooklynites and One Big Apple

Pairings: Miles Morales & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers

“You did good out there today,” Captain America said, brushing a layer of detritus from his unfathomably broad shoulder. “I’ll see you around.”

“Not if I see you first,” replied Miles, fingergunning with one hand as he sent a web rope fwipping off into the distance with the other, catapulting himself away at tremendous speed.

... in which two superheroes battle with bad guys, embark on community art lessons, and a friendship forms along the way.

Battle Fatigue

Steve thought he was doing okay. Things weren't going great, but they were fine, manageable even, and then suddenly they weren't.

We Become New Yorkers (or: Five Times Steve Rogers Looked For Home, and One Time Home Found Him)

New York is a million cities at the same time. This is how Steve found his.

A beautiful day in the neighborhood

In which Steve and Peter learn that the best way to get through a bad situation is together. And to avoid collapsing buildings. And that concussions are terrible, terrible things.

Leviticus 25

"You want to save Bucky Barnes? You are going to have to put your own house in order first because he is going to need a rock to cling to. You are not ready to be that rock for him. You owe it to him -- and more importantly, you owe it to yourself -- to figure things out, figure out how you can be happy in this time and place, whether or not Barnes is with you."

Strike

Sometimes the road to recovery involves bowling. Conveniently, so does the one to the Grand Canyon.

Conversation in Wakanda

“I have been told that you had the privilege to share a training session with some of our Dora Milaje,” T’Challa says. “May I ask how it went?”

“Well,” the Captain huffs. “There’s no polite way to say it: I had my ass handed to me. Repeatedly.”

He sounds and looks utterly delighted.

Contact Light

Everyone thought computers would be the thing that really blew Steve's mind about the 21st century. They were wrong. When he finds out that he missed the moon landing, it's the start of an ongoing obsession with space that maybe involves Neil deGrasse Tyson, Twitter, and Star Trek marathons.

Twenty-Two

“This is Lucky,” Clint said when a dog got between him and Natasha. Lucky’s vest was bright, like desert mornings and night explosions.

“Does he help?” Natasha asked.

Clint pressed his hands flat on the counter behind him. “He saved my life.”

Natasha looked at Steve, her expression fierce. Steve resisted the urge to yank down his sleeves. Instead, he dug his nails into the puckered skin on his forearms.

AKA An AU in which Steve is a veteran just trying to survive (or not).

Gray

Peter doesn't expect Steve to show up at his house one night when he gets home from school. He also doesn't expect to have a long conversation with him, and choose to be on his side instead.

We're Happy, Free, Confused, and Lonely at the Same Time.

"Tony isn't sure, but he *thinks* Steve Rogers is going to try and argue with him about not being a kid, while wrapped up in a fluffy blanket and plaid pyjama pants watching a Disney movie. Tony really hopes that is the case. The Captain America voice looses all affect when wrapped up in that blanket and Tony can't wait to inform him as such." - The one where Tony realises that Captain America and Steve Rogers are not the same person, and Steve is so much younger then he thought.

This Isn't A Love Song, This Isn't A Fable

Steve's not OK with people's perception of Captain America, no matter what he says or how much he pretends otherwise. It's like no one in this time period realizes that there's more to him than a spangly outfit. And yes, he's including the Avengers in that. ... or, the one where everything's all right, until it's not.

it's safe here in our new world

Post TWS. In which Natasha and Steve go shopping, have Thursday night movie nights, and learn that Natasha loves to platonically kiss Steve. Which is good, because Steve loves being platonically kissed by Natasha.

Shadowboxing

Pairings: Matt Murdock & Steve Rogers

It doesn’t matter how many times you fall – what matters most is how many times you get back up. Steve Rogers knew this lesson far too well and it was one Matt Murdock had endured all his life. With both men at their lowest, could a chance friendship bring each of them to their feet again?

Everybody Eats When They Come to My House

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers

“You’ll ruin your dinner,” Sam says, gesturing with Steve with his spatula.

i fear for the calendar; its days are numbered

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson

Before she goes off the grid, Natasha gives Steve her phone number. He’s honored that he’s the only one to be trusted with it, but quickly learns that she spends most of her free time texting him Dad jokes.

Status Quo Ante

Pairings: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers

A tale in which Sam suspects he should be used to this by now, for values of 'this' that involve certain folks he hangs out with and situations he finds himself in, Team Cap becomes Team Ex-Cap becomes TBD, and nobody but Clint really wants to know what happened to Scott Lang's GI Joes. (Sam Wilson from the final scene to the mid-credits scene.)

The Glass Parade

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov

Steve thinks that he’s seen Natasha be at least three different people in the short time he’s known her, and he isn’t sure which one is real.

In which the most confusing part of the future is how much Steve has in common with Natasha, and the fact that she seems dead-set on being his friend.

Still Life

Steve Rogers and a very modern form of art therapy. (The one where Steve draws himself out of despair and into some notoriety when his cartoons hit the internet, but he's still not allowed to look at Tumblr without an okay from Pepper.)

Selective Service

The serum's given Steve a lot, but it hasn't taken anything away from him. Not even the things he never wanted in the first place.

I'm a Hustler, Baby

Steve Rogers has a talent for pool--and for making others believe he's terrible at it.

The Healing Properties of Felt-Tip Pens

Rapid healing has worked wonders on Steve Rogers' body, but occasionally it really screws with his head. In the aftermath of torture, Bruce Banner helps Steve to reconcile mind and body.

If I Die Before I Wake

It's his job, as their leader, to endure the sadistic focus of their captor, and that is the one thought that carries Steve through.

Even Gods Do

Captain America doesn't have a good relationship with sleep anymore. Also, he's not a toy.

Under My Skin

Written for a prompt on avengerkink: I want to see something where, for whatever reason, Steve's accelerated healing turns out to be a bad thing. Something where the faster healing is making things worse. I would prefer something other than the standard, super-healing allows for more torture without death. “He's lucky – to have the serum, to have you all.” Tony wasn't sure about that first part. When one faced death and destruction every day on the job, there were many advantages to having a healing factor...and a great many disadvantages as well.

A Glossary of the 21st Century

Pairings: pre-Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov

Steve's sick of not understanding what's going on, and the team are not all that helpful, so he starts keeping an illustrated notebook for further research. With the help of wiki, google and Logan he starts to settle in and find his place in the twenty-first century.

Blanket Gift Policy

“You didn’t,” Bucky said, with no real hope of being contradicted. Clint shrugged helplessly and passed him the large, soft bundle wrapped in shiny purple foil.

“Sorry.” Tony covered his eyes with one hand.

“I’m getting a migraine.”

“So,” Bruce said wearily, “counting Clint, me, Bucky, Tony, and Sam, that brings it up to five.”

“Excuse you, mine’s not a blanket,” Sam said. “Mine’s a slanket. Big difference.”

Bucky resisted the urge to throw the whole heap of parcels at Sam’s head. “Because it has sleeves? It’s still a blanket, Wilson. They’re all blankets. Even Thor’s direct-from-Asgard raven gift delivery was a cloak, which just means it’s a blanket with a strap. We all got Steve a goddamn blanket.”

One Tin Soldier

Written for a prompt at avengerkink: Because really, under any other circumstances, why would they follow him when he's some guy who's younger than the rest of them (time as a Capsicle aside), who goes around wearing that spangly outfit, who's not even used to the modern world? Why Steve Rogers, rather than a Norse god or the CEO of Stark Industries or anyone else?

“Love is for children,” she'd said, but respect knew no such bounds. The five times the Avengers accepted Steve as their leader, and the one time they followed without question.

and if there's life we'll see it

Steve is instantly taken with this idea of having the picture of the person calling you flash on your screen when they ring your cell.

Secure Your Own Oxygen Mask (Before Assisting Others)

Steve keeps going, because they need him. Being Captain America - having the serum - is a responsibility and a privilege he takes seriously, and he won't waste it by sitting around resting in the middle of a crisis. But then the work is over, and the original victims of the crisis aren't the only ones needing looking after.

Way of the Eagle

Clint introduces Steve to kung-fu movies. Things escalate quickly.

Walking Wounded

In the aftermath of the battle against the Chitauri, Steve's doing just fine. Until he's not. Fortunately, Thor is a perfect mother-hen, Tony makes decent back-up, JARVIS is a genius, and Soap Operas are life-changing. (Or, Post-Shawarma Feels.)

[olivarryprompts]

Fanfic Friday #7

Welcome to Fanfic Friday! Each Friday I will post a new fanfic here and on A03. Enjoy x

Read and save it on A03 here https://archiveofourown.org/works/32577124

{the anatomy of caring}

Ships: minor stevetony, focused on Tony & Peter

Warnings: none, it’s just fluff :)

Wc: 2355

It was obvious to anyone who knew the two well. It was Steve and Tony, Iron Man and the Captain. It simply made sense. If the logic wasn’t enough, the two looked at home with one and another. They slipped together like puzzle pieces. Tony always helped Steve through the confusion of a new world, and Steve always knew just how to help Tony deal with the anxiety of their reality. They were the perfect couple, and they both knew that.

Then, the spiderling came along. Tony saw a mirror image of himself in Spiderman. A young, ambitious boy who had the curse and gift of superhuman powers. He defied death each day he swung between buildings, and Tony couldn’t help but be enthralled. He couldn’t help but figure out who the kid was (It was pretty easy to figure out it was a kid, considering he only showed up outside of school hours). Steve, knowing his lover so well, knew instantly how protective Tony felt over the kid he’d merely stalked on the internet.

So when Tony explained the plan to show up at Peter’s with the “Stark Internship” it was no surprise to the captain. To the rest of the team, who’d all moved into the tower, it was a complete shock. The fact that Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, playboy, wanted to help this kid hone his powers and skills.

“You,” Bruce said, “Want to help this kid..what? Be a superhero?” “Well, someone’s gotta,” Tony explained like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Someone has to?” Nat questioned. “He can’t go around swinging off rooftops and beating up bad guys without any training. Or backup.” “Correct me if I am wrong, but didn’t your idiot ass do that?” Sam questioned. “I was not a kid. And I had money, friends, people,” Tony wildly gesticulated. “I am beyond confused,” Nat laughed. “Same train as Romanoff,” Clint agreed. “Guys, this is not that hard. Come on. Let’s take this scenario. He ends up meeting some guys, and, instead of, say, winning, he loses. And either he dies, or gets badly injured. Who does he have? No one? He bleeds out. He’s a kid for fuck sake.” “Cap’s been awfully quiet,” Clint pointed out. “What? I knew this was coming days ago,” Steve explained with a smile, “I know my man. He wasn't just gonna let this kid get himself into trouble if he could do anything about it. Plus, Tony doesn’t keep tabs, he violently invades lives.” Tony shot him a look. “With love, invades with lots and lots of love,” he quickly fixes, flashing his million dollar smile at his boy. Tony just rolled his eyes and focused on addressing the group, “Look, I know it’s a lot, but I think it’s just what I have to do. And I own the tower, so, my choice,” he said with a hint of banter in his voice. Tony headed towards the elevator. “Where the hell are you going?” Sam asked. “The spiderling’s.”

Tony left before he could hear any of the exasperated responses. It was a fair drive down to Queen’s where the boy lived. He parked outside the small building, and he then climbed the seven flights of stairs to the apartment. He knocked on the door and greeted, “Hello, I’m Tony, Tony Stark.” He smiled his media smile, extending a hand towards May. “I-I know. Mr. Stark, hello, w-what are you doing here?” “Well, your nephew Peter applied for the Steptember Grant, and well, he got it,” Tony said, thrusting all the enthusiasm he could muster. He maintained his fabricated nonchalant, disregarding manner in most places. “Wow this is, this is incredible! Peter will be home any minute now. Come in, come in. Can I get you a drink?”

He was back at the tower, recapping his meeting with Peter to Cap. “-can you believe no one knows? Well, now it's knew. No one knew this kid was swinging around. And he got these powers with no one to help him through it, and god, it must have been awful. But, he’s good, Cap, he’s so good. He feels the need to help people, beyond just guilt. He’s, he’s-” “Tones,” Steve said, kissing his cheek, “Take a deep breath.” To be fair to the man, he hadn’t slept for at least 36 hours. With all that coffee in his system he had the right to be a bit uncomposed. The two were sitting at the breakfast bar, well Tony was sitting and Steve was behind it, cooking some eggs for the younger man. “I’m just glad I found him before he killed himself trying to save the world.” “Me too. How long has it been since you’ve slept?” “J?” “Sir, it has been 36 hours.“ “Tonyyyy,” Steve said, clearly disappointed. “Steveeee.” “I’m forcing you to bed.” “I have work to do. Plus it’s only eight o’clock.” “Eat then sleep, honey,” Steve said in that voice that you just didn’t ignore.

C2

At first the “Stark Internship” started as Tony upgrading Peter’s suit, monitoring his patrols, and teaching how to fight. Well, Natasha taught him how to fight. After she offered, Tony was in no place to deny. It was overwhelming to Peter. He was being taught about tech with Tony Stark and being taught how to fight from the black widow.

For the first couple weeks, he was a nervous wreck in the tower. He’d hardly speak to anyone and only do and touch what he was told to. He’d change, head straight to the gym, and then Natasha would train him. At first, the training was silent, other than Nat’s coaching. Then, slowly, the two began talking. It started with Nat asking how he first got his power, then it moved to her first missions, and then suddenly Nat knew a lot about Peter. And Peter was one of the few people in the world who knew a lot about Natasha. “-so what, you fought alien robots sent by Thor’s brother?” “Yeah, that's about right. I had to get up to one of the buildings, so, with Cap’s shield as my trampoline, I launched myself onto one of their flying machines. Pretty fun time up there.” “Holy shit, that’s incredible. How’d you stop them?” Peter knew how the battle had gone down, afterall he’d been in New York during the attack, but it was something else hearing it from an actual Avenger. “Well, it was quite complicated. The scientist-” Nat reminded him to keep his wrist straight. He made the fix, and went back to punching the bag. She launched back into the tale,”The scientist, remember him, who Loki’d controlled woke up mid battle. He’d installed a death switch for the portal, but to access it we needed the scepter. But, the thing is, the government basically sent a nuke toward New York in an effort to contain the aliens, so Tony grabbed the nuke and aimed from inside of the portal and threw it at their main spacecraft. This turned off all of the alien tech. He was a he-” “Hey Kid, Nat. Please don’t tell me you're telling the New York story,” Tony said from the entrance. “Hi Mr. Stark.” Nat rolled her eyes, “I am telling the New York story. You were a he-” “Don’t say it. You almost done?” “I’ll call it. Good job today kid.” “Thanks.”

Similar to the gym, he’d become far more comfortable around Tony and in his lab. At first he’d sit silently, doing his work. Then he got used to Tony’s eccentric tendencies, he memorized the layout and where everything was, and he’d also been unofficially given a workspace. It became easier and easier to feel comfortable. The late night coffee and deep chats were simply a bonus. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, it felt like he had a father figure. It was nice.

One day, Tony was vibin’ to ACDC and chatting with Steve whilst working on Mock 50 of his new suit design when Peter showed up. Steve being in the lab was something Peter had also become accustomed to. “Jarvis, please get some good music on in here. Queen perhaps?” Peter requested. He did it to annoy Mr. Stark, and it did just that. “Hey kid,” Cap said. “Don’t “hey kid” him,” Mr. Stark said, faking anger, “Did you just insult my music? How dare you? I am revoking all Jarvis privileges.” Peter laughed alongside Cap. “Sir, you can’t do that. I quite like the kid, and the innovations he is creating require my attention.” “Why did I program you to have a goddamn personality?” Tony said, focusing back to his work, “And Jarvis, put the quality music back now.” “Anway, how was school?” Steve asked. “Good, yeah. The same really. We had another one of your “fitness” videos for class today. Real good,” Peter joked. “Oh god, please don’t tell me they really use those.” “They really use those,” Peter smiled, “I’m going for a shower. See you in a flash.” “Wrong superhero, kid,” Mr. Stark called. “Idiot,” Peter heard Cap mutter into the top of Mr. Stark’s head.

Upon returning, he noticed the absence of the team leader. “Where did Cap go?” “Actual work or something stupid like that.” Peter just smiled as he settled down at his workstation. He wanted to try out some new formulas for his web fluid. He’d had an idea in spanish class, and scribbled it down in his notebook. He fished for it in his backpack.

It was so easy. Too easy. And so so comfortable.

C3

“Come on, I’ve got something to show you.”

Peter had just finished sparring with Nat, and Tony, unusually, came up to the gym to “collect” him. He hadn’t done that for months. Mainly because Peter stopped coming straight down to Tony’s lab. Instead, he went to the kitchen and, mainly because Steve forced him, ate some food. He usually ended up in a random chat with Sam or Bucky. Occasionally he would catch Banner, and he’d end up in a different laboratory. He was always happy to learn about what the incredible doctor was up to. Sometimes, he was even able to provide a suggestion or two. Bruce always looked impressed by the boy. It made Peter smile.

Then he would actually make his way down to the lab, but not before trying to find Hawkeye. He'd wanted to learn some tricks with the bow and arrow. Somehow, Clint would be dragged into teaching Peter how to fire a bow once a week. At least. Clint pretended he minded through teasing and jokes, but realistically he loved hearing about the kid’s week. He’d always been good with kids. It became a running joke that Clint would let Peter know about all the tech upgrades he wanted, and then Peter’d report them to Tony. Most of the time Tony replied with something snarky like, “Tell the idiot he shouldn’t have picked a dumbass weapon like a bow and arrow,” or “do it yourself if you care that much.”

The Avengers Tower had become home just as much as his apartment in Queens was, and it was clear that Tony knew that. Hence the, “Come on, I’ve got something to show you.” He took the little Avenger to the elevator, hitting floor 80. He was a little confused given that floors 75-90 were all bedroom floors for the avengers or just spare bedrooms. “Mr. Stark-” “You’ll see, kid.” In reality, Tony was nervous. He and Steve decided a while back that Peter deserved his own space in the tower, but he had been scared that Peter wouldn’t like it. That he picked the wrong colours, or mattress, or well, anything.

The doors opened and there were two doors facing one another. Tony opened one of them with a key he pulled out of his black suit. The door opened and he was met by a beautiful and modern room. It had a huge bed and tv. There was a desk equipped with the latest stark Holographic technology. In the corner was a suit, specifically a spider suit. That is when it clicked. “Mr. Stark, is, is this all mine?” “Yeah kid, sorry if you don’t like anything. Cap and I did the best we could knowing what you like. And ye-” Peter cut him off with a hug, “thank you.” “Anything for you, kid. Just say the word. Want a tour?” Peter eagerly nodded. “Alright so that’s the bed, obviously. No more sleeping in the guest rooms or that couch in the worksho-” “You sleep ther-” “Don’t say that I sleep there, I am no role model for sleep schedules.” Peter just smiled. “This is a little workshop area I mocked up. You can’t really tinker up here, but do all the designing you want,” he pulled up the most recent project Peter was working on, “Then, just through there is the bathroom, a little lounge area over there and yeah, that’s all. Oh, there’s two mini fridges by the lounge area.” Just as Tony finished his explanation, Steve showed up. “Tones, you showed it to him without me,” Cap complained. “Sorry, babes, you took too long.” he turned around and placed a little kiss on his lips. “It’s fine. How do you like it Pete?” “It’s, it’s-” Peter couldn’t think of any words to describe how incredible it was to have a room at the Avengers Tower, but more importantly how incredible it was to have so many people looking out for him. Before he had just one, Aunt May. She is amazing, but he’d always longed for just a little more. Then, with the Avengers, he’d been given a lot more. They became his family. And now his home. “Thank you,” was all Peter could muster before falling onto the floor.

The two of them, now in each other's arms, just looked down fondly at the boy. “We did good,” Cap whispered. “We did good,” Tony agreed. They did good with more than just the room.

[smellssharpies]

For the Dancing and the Dreaming [Hardcase x Reader]

Pairing: Hardcase x Jedi!Reader

Prompt/Inspiration/Request: Sort of inspired by the song ‘For the dancing and the Dreaming’ from HTTYD 2

Warning(s): none

Word count: ~2.2k

Summary: After a planet-side break on Coruscant from the war, you and Anakin decide to to teach the boys how to dance. (I’m really bad at summaries)

a/n: This was originally from my Wattpad, but I wanted to post it here as well, enjoy!

The mess hall of the Resolute was nothing out of the ordinary, at least if you didn't listen to some of their conversations. Right now, Hardcase was sitting at a table with some of his brothers, gushing about their last visit to Coruscant.

"Did you see how she spun around on her toes?" Hardcase asked over-excitedly to Echo's face.

"Yes, I did Hardcase, we all did. We were all there," the ARC explained, yet again. But there was nothing stopping Hardcase once he got started ranting about something, nothing except being shot at or discovering something even more exciting.

"Oooo, and do you remember how he picked her up by the waist and tossed her in the air?!" Hardcase exclaimed to Kix's face this time. The medic looked as if he wanted to break one of his brother's bones for annoying him to no end.

"Yeah, that was really cool," Fives cut in, trying to save Hardcase from Kix's wrath, "I think that dance style was called ballet or something like that."

"And that other one where that guy was doing those crazy moves on the floor!?" most of his brothers at that table silently sighed at Hardcase's excited babbling. On their last visit to Coruscant, you and Anakin had bought some of the 501st who were interested tickets to a nearby dance competition where the men saw many different styles of dance. They didn't even know people could dance or move like that, the only thing that was even close to dancing that they knew was the drunken discos at 79's.

You and Anakin were heading over to the mess hall after filling out a bunch of mission reports. The mess hall was completely empty except for a large table at the back, but even from where you were standing you could hear Hardcase's voice loud and clear, "Can you dance, Tup?"

Tup took a deep breath and tried to reason with his brother, "Hardcase, if I go with you to blow up some clankers in the practice room, will you please stop talking about the dance competition?" he asked desperately.

"You didn't like it? But the competition was so cool," Hardcase responded in an amazingly cute voice. Anakin noticed your expression soften at Hardcase's voice, you couldn't help it, it just sounded too adorable. He looked at you with a huge smirk and nudged you with his elbow. He knew all about your huge crush on a specific trooper, though you never told him explicitly, he somehow found out and has shipped you two ever since.

You shot him a well practiced glare which had no effect at all, and started to make your way over to the boys.

"I wish I we could dance like that~," Hardcase said with a wistful look in his eyes. His back was to you and Anakin, so he was oblivious that you were heading towards his direction. Echo was the first one to spot the two of you, shooting you both a desperate look, silently asking you to help Hardcase stop rambling.

"Hey, Generals!" Fives greeted as Hardcase froze at the plural tense, which earned him a nudge from Jesse.

"Hey, boys! I heard you liked the performance," you said as you tried you hardest to not notice Hardcase's eyes on you.

"Yeah, and Hardcase here wants to know how to dance as well now," Jesse teased.

You thought over it for a moment, then silently asked Anakin for his opinion, to which he gave a small nod, "If you guys want to," you paused, unsure of their reactions, "Anakin and I could teach you some."

Hardcase lit up at your suggestion, "You know how to dance, General?! How did I not know this?"

You chuckled, blushing slightly at his adorable enthusiasm, "Well, only the dance styles that Obi-Wan deemed 'civilized enough'," you explained, putting quotation marks at the words 'civilized enough', "So, ballet, waltz, that sort of stuff."

"Wait wait wait, General Kenobi knows how to dance?!"

"Of course he does, he's Obi-Wan, what do you expect?" Anakin responded.

You continued with a fond smile, "Yeah, during our Padawan years, he insisted on teaching us how to dance. He practically pleaded with my master to teach me as well," you paused, "So, do you boys want us to teach you?"

"Yes, Please!" Hardcase exclaimed. Jesse and Fives soon followed, Rex and Tup agreed slightly more reluctantly, Kix claimed that he was only coming to watch his brothers make a fool of themselves, and Echo finally caved in when Fives flashed him his well practiced puppy eyes.

You and Anakin organized meetings with them, dubbing one of the spare practice rooms as your 'dance studio', you'd also reminded them to only come in their blacks, as that would help them move around more efficiently.

When the time of the first meeting came along, you and Anakin stood in the makeshift dance studio in your ballet attire, setting up the barres for warn up. The doors slid open and the boys started to make their way in. You bit the inside of your cheek when you saw Hardcase, the blacks accentuating his handsome form. You'd forgotten that you were wearing quite the revealing outfit, skin toned tights on your legs instead of your normal Jedi trousers and a black leotard which left the upper part of your back completely bare.

Hardcase flushed and looked away when he saw your exposed back, which earned him another nudge and wink from Jesse.

Your started the "class" with some barre warm-ups, then showed off a bit with Anakin, the two of you knowing exactly what the other's limits were as you had been dancing together ever since you were 11 or 12. You enjoyed watching the boys try dancing for the first time, but as time went on, they became more confident and started to learn new styles. You were slightly surprised by Hardcase's grace on the dance floor, but it made you warm inside whenever he pulled off a difficult move or started showing off in front of his brothers.

Little did you know, Anakin organised "secret" practices with the boys, teaching them one of your favourite songs to surprise you with. It was a pretty romantic one, which he chose because he wanted it to be the push you and Hardcase needed.

You two had first learned the song during the last year of your Padawan training, not long before the start of the war. Anakin wanted to learn it to impress Padmé, so you agreed to practice with him. The thing was, the more you listened to the song, the more you fell in love with it. You loved how it was more like a dialogue than a duet, and the emotions that were packed in the song. He had even pretended to memorize the dance slower just so you could dance and sing to it more.

You were just finishing the warm-ups in one of your meetings when you heard the opening notes of 'For the Dancing and the Dreaming', and you saw all the boys get into pairs, standing in a circle with an empty space next to you. Your face visibly lit up at the song, it was one you hadn't heard in quite some time because of the war. You saw Hardcase shyly make eye contact with you as he walked over. Anakin stepped to the side, watching his plan fall into place. Hardcase put his arm into a sort of flexed position, and you didn't know if it was possible, but your face lit up even more. You quickly put yours into the same position, and touched the back of your forearm to his.

You hadn't expected him to start singing, or to even know the words, but he did, "I'll swim and sail on savage seas, with never a fear of drowning. And gladly ride the waves of life, if you will marry me," he sang softly, looking into your eyes once in a while to catch your reaction. But it wasn't just him singing, it was all of his brothers who had the same part as him, Echo, Jesse and Tup, but you focused on his voice and his voice only, "No scorching sun nor freezing cold, will stop me on my journey. If you will promise me your heart~"

"And love me for eternity," you shyly sang the response, still not sure of singing such a romantic song with him in front of everyone else. But your nerves were quickly put down when you heard three other voices sing the same part, Fives', Kix's and Rex's, "My dearest one, my darling dear, your mighty words astound me. But I've no need of mighty deeds when I feel your arms around me," you sang with more confidence as you fell into a state of familiarity.

You saw Hardcase's bright smile at your more relaxed state, "But I would bring you rings of gold, I'd even sing you poetry. And I would keep you from all harm, if you would stay beside me."

"I have no use for rings of gold, I care not for your poetry, I only want your hand hold~"

"I only want you near me."

You both danced around and sang with bright smiles, and Anakin was wearing a similar smile, content at seeing you so happy during a time of war, "To love and kiss to sweetly hold, for the dancing and the dreaming. Through all life's sorrows and delights, I'll keep your laugh inside me," you sang together, "I'll swim and sail on savage seas, with never a fear of drowning. I'd gladly ride the waves of life, if you will marry me!" You and Hardcase finished, though as you sang the last line, he carefully put a hand on your back and dipped you.

You put a hand on his shoulders for balance as you looked into his eyes, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat. He slowly moved to close the gap between you, though moving so that you could play it off as a joke if you didn't want this, perfect gentleman. The room was dead silent and you could hear your heart pounding at his intimate touch. You responded by placing your other arm around his neck and pulled him into you, your lips meeting his. He stiffened slightly in surprise, but quickly wrapped his other arm around your waist, holding you tight.

The room was quiet for a few seconds, then the cheers and whistles erupted.

"That's my girl!"

"Go get her, Hardcase!"

You quickly pulled away and stood up, flushing from embarrassment. Hardcase chuckled slightly, and what you would give to hear that amazing sound again, "Oh, cyar'ika," Hardcase breathed as he tucked a piece of stray hair behind your ear. He placed both his hands over your ears, muffling out the cheers, "Better?"

"Much," you responded with a smile and pulled him into another kiss. The moment was interrupted by Anakin grabbing yours and Hardcase's wrists and dragged you two out of the makeshift dance studio. You were both laughing when he dragged you down the halls, coming to a stop outside your quarters. He had a huge smirk on his face as he entered the code and shooed the two of you inside, "Have fun~" he teased as he left the two of you alone.

You were smiling to yourself about the day's antics when you felt a familiar arm wrap around your waist, pulling you close. A hand reached towards you cheek, caressing it until he tilted your chin up to look at him. He made you flush when he looked at you with loving eyes, "He did tell us to have fun. Did he not?" he asked with a smile before quickly adding, "Unless you don't want to."

Consent was always sexy.

"Of course I do," you responded before resting your head on his chest, the two of you just stayed there, soaking in the feeling of each other. That is until a thought crossed your mind, "What does cyar'ika mean?" you asked, "The thing you called me earlier."

He turned slightly red before responding, "One of the lines you sang, actually," he said with a smile, but at your raised eyebrow he continued, "'My dearest one, my darling dear'."

If you had thought him just singing was hot as hell, him singing your lines was just on a whole other level, "Your mighty words astound me," you continued.

"But I've no need of mighty deeds,"

"When I feel your arms around me," you finished as he pressed his lips against yours again, and you never wanted this moment to end.

Needless to say, you both had plenty of fun that night.

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

[asgardianthot]

Flesh And Bones – Part 8

Soulmate AU

Series Masterlist

A/N: been a while :l sorry for not updating for a while!! As usual I’m back with a lot written down!! Part 9 will be up soon (and also the last part of Funeral Chuckle, if you’re reading that one). Here, have some domesticity and some kisses and a lil angst :)

Words: 3187

*This work is also on AO3

"You're doing great, Barnes." Sam congratulated the man, encouraging him to keep going.

Bucky breathed hard through his nose, controlling his breath as he punched the bag down in the training area. While he worked on his punches, Sam monitored his improvements in the caution department.

The whole idea was for Bucky to be able to control his own strength when using his hands, so that he learned not to get himself hurt. Ergo, so that Sam wouldn't get hurt. Hydra had taught him to hit targets, not to care for himself while doing so. Whereas any trained soldier would land on their feet neatly and placing their weight on their toes, Bucky was told to land. At all costs. No matter if he wrecked his bones in the process. Thus, whereas Sam punched his targets in a way that wouldn't break his knuckles, balancing his strength, Bucky wasn't as preoccupied. He didn't mind the occasional sting, and if he got himself hurt, he healed pretty fast. Of course, that was before the bond.

Suddenly, Bucky began punching a bit rougher and Sam felt the familiar tingling on his knuckles, numbing his articulations a little.

"Easy." He warned Bucky.

The latter stopped with a grunt and dropped both arms to his sides.

"Sorry." He panted slightly.

"No, that was good." Sam made sure not to forget focusing on the positive advances, "You're getting a hold of this."

Barnes didn't nod, but he didn't seem to be negating the stated fact, either. Instead, he looked like he was considering it while he fetched his water bottle. He gulped down a quarter of it in one go, never losing eye contact with Sam, and panted out in exhaustion when he got rid of the bottle.

"You're not saying it out of pity?" he verified, tentatively.

Sam merely rolled his eyes.

"I don't pity you." He reminded Bucky, "And you really are learning this pretty fast."

The appellee reflected on the partial compliment for a second, and then his face grew a small smile.

"Great." He finally agreed, still working on steadying his breaths, "That means you're not getting hurt."

While Bucky didn't have anything meaningful to say or add, he couldn't look away from the man that had been couching him the past hour. He thought about how hard the adapting process would be and for how long, but having him right there and being able to appreciate the goodness that Sam irradiated, he thought about how much harder it would be not being Sam's partner.

"What?" Wilson eventually felt too observed.

Bucky wanted to say something cheesy. Desperately wanted to pamper Sam somehow, but he opted for closing the gap between them. He took one step closer until their bodies pressed slightly, and put a hand on Sam's waist.

"This okay?" he checked.

The smile that Sam bore was almost unnoticeable, but Bucky did catch it.

"Yeah." Sam breathed out.

As Bucky planted his own lips on his and pushed a wet kiss into them, Sam's insides swelled and churned in the best possible way. Be it through the excessive effort Barnes was putting into controlling the bond, or through that tiny kind gesture, Bucky conveyed how much he cared. And Sam had never felt so cared for before, or at least, not like that. Bucky was different. He was the kind of man who would swear to you his undying loyalty by getting back on his own two feet for you.

When their lips parted, Sam took a hold of the metal hand in his.

"Told you we could do this." He said with pride.

His words alluded the arm control and the strength balance, but he also meant the bond. And somehow, he was referring to the love part, also.

"Sorry I ever doubted it." Bucky smirked up at him.

-

The common room seemed to have come back to normality, finally. Seeing how nobody was avoiding anyone anymore, the heroes managed to eat breakfast while sharing the same space, and coexist like they used to.

In fact, the couple looked more comfortable than ever, plopped on the couch and watching TV. Bucky rested his body against Sam’s, while the latter wrapped one arm around him, occasionally running his fingers through his hair. Behind them and having their breakfast on the table, were Wanda and Steve.

“You guys are disgusting.” Wanda joked, disapproving the entire couch scene with her expression.

“You’re so jealous.” Bucky replied, not even dignifying her with a look, “Pass the remote?”

“Come get it.” The young woman scoffed.

Bucky twisted his neck as much as he could in his current position, only to give her an offended grimace.

“Come on!”

“You can’t get away from Sam for half a second? Is that it?” she teased.

“I don’t wanna get up.”

“Neither do I. Come get your remote.”

Finally, Sam interjected with annoyance. “I’ll get the remote.”

As he stood up and abandoned the embrace, Bucky groaned at the lack of support and dramatically let his body fall lopsided on the cushions.

“That’s exactly what I was avoiding.” He complained.

“Admitting that you were too comfortable?” Wanda narrowed her eyes in a mocking manner, “Just say it, lover boy.”

During the whole interaction, Steve had been hiding behind his morning paper– some habits die hard. Eventually, he had to at least acknowledge the childish playfulness filling the room. It was so refreshing, yet so different, coming from Bucky and Sam as a couple. The idea was still settling in the back of Steve’s mind, but he couldn’t deny it somehow felt right. Too right, like they were a couple the entire time and he just hadn’t noticed, with all the bickering and taunting.

Nevertheless, Steve laughed, “This will be easy getting used to.” He admitted, still focused on his paper.

“What’s gotten into you?” Bucky accused Wanda, even though he knew she was just messing with him.

“I’ve never seen you like this, it’s weird.” She explained, a disgusted look on her face, “I’m starting to think I want you to go back to your glum and glimmy self.”

“Not if I’m here.” Sam negated the possibility, sitting back on the couch, but not half as snugged and sunk as before.

The young woman cringed even harder at the sound of that, “Ew.”

Steve rose his sight to give Wanda an amused look, only for his eyes to be hyper-aware of the person walking in. Natasha stepped through the doors with a work tablet in hand and a preoccupied, vague expression.

Steve was the first to notice, “What is it?” he asked her in that very leader-ish tone that characterized him.

The redhead breathed, almost pacing, “I got a tip for a next mission. Looks pretty clean.”

Sam knew when Natasha was worried. It wasn’t hard to miss, but it also seemed like it wasn’t an urgent, life or death matter, thus he simply gave her a push so that she could explain the matter as quick as possible.

“And?”

The woman directed her eyes to Bucky, then at Sam, and she talked to the latter, exclusively. In fact, as she spoke, not even once did she take her eyes an inch away from Sam’s.

“It’s a Hydra base.” She set the information loose, ripped the Band-Aid off, “One of the last ones.”

Sam tensed up immediately, whereas, as attentive as he was to the smallest shift in Bucky’s breathing, he didn’t feel him tense up.

“Let me go see it.” Wilson stood up, meaning they should talk about it far away from the common room.

“Yeah, that’s probably better.” Nat agreed.

Ten seconds went by after the pair left the room, and the room was still immersed in sepulchral silence. When the sound of their heels died down in the distance, Steve stood up, not saying a word, and followed behind.

Bucky raised his eyebrows to himself, sourly, “That was smooth.” He said sarcastically.

Wanda felt sorry for his friend, seeing the way the other three had handled the situation.

“They just don’t wanna… trigger you, or whatever.” She tried to ease the awkwardness while standing up from her seat.

She plopped down on the couch next to him, rested her head on his shoulder and hugged her legs to her body. She was snugging close to him, almost like trying to fill the void Sam had just left, since she noticed how Bucky had grown accustomed to physical comfort.

“Well, I’m fine.” Bucky replied dryly and with a clear hint of annoyance, “I can deal with it.”

“I know that.” At the lack of reaction, Maximoff lifted her head and frowned up at the man, “Hey. I know that. And I’m sure they… sort of know that, too.”

That uncertainty caused Bucky to snort, for not even the person supposed to be comforting him believed that to be true.

“Yeah, well. They already think I’m a ticking time bomb, right?”

As much as Wanda wished to speak the truth, she also didn’t know the answer for sure. Maybe they did expect Bucky to crumble at any moment. Maybe Rhodey or Steve or Tony or even Natasha didn’t see how resilient the man had been, and therefore, were just waiting for him to crack under pressure. She couldn’t know.

“I don’t think Sam believes that.” She said honestly, for that’s really all she had, “I think he trusts your mind as much as I do, which is a lot.”

But Bucky didn’t seem convinced. Can’t convince someone of something you’re not sure about yourself. So she offered everything she could and held his hand in hers.

“What do we say?” she asked for him to recite the comfort words they had set themselves.

Bucky nodded, agreeing to recite them, because agreeing to verse it meant he believed the words at that exact moment.

“We are not their weapon.” He spoke in that tone which one uses when narrating a memorized passage, “They did not create us.”

“That’s right.”

While Bucky digested the saying, assuredly trusting the meaning of it, Wanda took a big breath. It was never a good time when they had to resort to the mantra, and remembering their gloomy past never brought a smile to their faces. They continued watching TV, pretending to not be thinking about whatever the other heroes were discussing.

-

A full day passed, and Sam still hadn’t received a single opinion nor approach from his soulmate. He assumed he had to ask about the tense subject himself, but the timing was never right, because for the past twenty-four hours, Bucky hadn’t spent more than five minutes with him. Deep in the most concealed parts of his mind, where he was sometimes selfish, Sam felt a little offended. He understood, however, the logical reason behind Bucky’s reservations.

That didn’t mean he didn’t think he should end the secrecy. So Wilson walked inside Bucky’s room, seeing the door wide open, and heard the noise of a human coming from the bathroom. He found Bucky brushing his teeth, and he leaned on the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Hey.” He spoke rather gently, “Are you avoiding me?"

"I'm brushing my teeth.” Barnes answered like it was nothing, although it was muffled by the toothpaste; he spat the foamy liquid on the sink before talking again, “Didn't think you'd be so clingy."

"I'm serious." Sam lowered his tone.

That caused Bucky to turn serious as well. He rinsed his mouth with water, then cleaned his face with the questionably fresh towel that was laying around.

"Of course I'm not.” He was genuine this time, but he still walked to his room, which made Sam think that he definitely was being avoided before, “What's wrong?"

"They moved the operation.” Sam followed behind, “We gotta head down tomorrow."

"Okay."

"You got nothing to say?” Wilson insisted, earning a simple shrug from his partner, “Buck, come on. I'm just worried, 's all. I don't think you should come."

"I'm fine. Why wouldn't I?” Bucky sat on an armchair to put on his shoes.

For all Sam knew, he had caught Bucky during his morning routine, but through his currently paranoid brain, it seemed like the soldier had chosen to do all that stuff to keep himself busy and not having to engage in a heavy heart-to-heart. And Sam simply wished to look Bucky in the eye and get the truth out of him, but he realized that was a little egoist.

By the time Wilson was done with his careful thinking, Bucky had both shoes on and was standing to fulfill another task.

"Because." Sam started while Bucky walked past him; he sighed, "Just be honest. If you don't wanna join, no one will blame you."

"Yeah, you will."

The easiness which Bucky spat that out with made Sam frown. Although Bucky looked for something inside his closet, Sam walked closer and held his arm tenderly as a way of asking him to turn around.

"No, we won't." Sam lowered his head, believing the accusation to be as far off as possible.

"You said it yourself, Sam.” Bucky tilted his head, “You think I'm a lazy-ass for not doing shit all day and never showing up to meetings."

The words were harsh. But they weren’t one hundred percent false. Sam took a step back, his head falling down as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He remembered all the times he’d call Bucky those exact things as a joke, before they knew about the bond. Back when their way of interacting consisted of mean teasing and fake disqualifications.

"I'm sorry.” He let out along with a big puff of air, “I never said that for real, though-"

"But you did.” Barnes interrupted him, “ ’Cause it's true."

"No, it's not.” Sam rushed to put both hands on Bucky’s arms, the softest way possible, yet in a desperate attempt to get through Bucky’s thick skull, “You can take all the time you need to get back into superhero gig."

"Back?”

There was a moment of silence, of absolute uncertainty from Sam’s part, before he decided to let go of Bucky’s hold. Clearly, there were many things on his soulmate’s mind that he didn’t know about. And sadly enough, there was no one to blame. It was just how things rolled out to be. Which was why Sam simply waited for Bucky to speak up.

Which he did, in an upset tone, “No, Sam, I… I've never been much of a hero to begin with. That’s you, you were one before the Avengers, saving lives in goddamn Afghanistan. Hell, saving depressed veteran's lives-"

"Watch it." Wilson had to remind him to still be respectful, even if Bucky’s frustration was being directed towards him.

Bucky came to his senses and stopped before taking a breath.

"My point is, I'm not you. I was a dumb kid enlisting to shoot some Nazis. Then I was some dumb kid following m'boy Steve to shoot some Nazis. Then I was whatever they made of me."

Wilson shook his head, "You're more than that. You're more than them."

"Maybe.” Bucky found himself saying something that contradicted his and Wanda’s mantra, and it shattered his own heart for a second, “Won't find that out unless I start facing them, instead of lying here watching TV all day."

Sam, once again, reached for his partner physically by placing his hands on Bucky’s shoulders, this time his grasp a little more invasive.

"So you wanna prove yourself, okay. Do it for you. Not for the team, not for Hydra. Not even for me."

"I have to.” Bucky insisted, raising his voice and drawing disappointed eyebrows on Wilson, “Sam, you're the good guy. I've never been that guy, if I could just...”

When he noticed how hyperventilated he had turned, Bucky cut himself off. Sam waited patiently as the man looked down and shut his eyes.

Bucky started whispering to himself, “We’re not their weapon. They did not create us.”

Sam couldn’t miss it.

“What’s that?” He asked cautiously.

When Bucky looked up at him, there was the tiniest bit of fear in his pupils. Now that he thought about it, the action of mumbling to himself, he thought, must have made Sam think he’s crazy. Plus, in Bucky’s mind, Sam already believed him to be a tad unstable, so he began regretting doing it in the first place.

But he kept it together and replied as nonchalant as he could, given the circumstances.

“Just something Wanda and I say. To, you know… remember.” He brushed it off.

Sam wasn’t having none of that minimizing crap. Inside that previously mentioned, recondite place in his brain where he sometimes was selfish, he desired to know Bucky’s every thought. Outside that brain section, he understood why that was not only impossible but also a foul wish, which is why he kept it locked there, in his selfish box; it still didn’t negate the fact that he hoped to understand Bucky as much as Bucky could make himself understood. Balancing all that, Sam didn’t push too far, but kept his tone flat and familiar.

“Remember what?”

Bucky bit the inside of his cheek for a second before loosening his tense shoulders and responding truthfully, “That we were people before they experimented on us.”

It made sense to Sam in a way that it didn’t; he got the message, but he couldn’t possibly understand how it felt to be neither Wanda nor Bucky. Sam had never been transformed and made into a weapon. His issues with the Army would never compare to being Hydra’s pet, or Strucker’s pet, and it made sense that they would bond over that simple, and at the same time very complex premise: No matter what they did to them or made them do, they were someone to begin with. They changed them, but they do not control this version of them. They are their own people.

Sam couldn’t conceal his sad grin, as he thought that the saying, the mutuality of it and the shared experience, was the nicest thing he’d heard, however it was also unbelievably sad that they needed one.

Bucky didn’t appreciate the pitiful look.

“This is what I mean, you… you think I’m so goddamn breakable.”

“I think you’re exactly the opposite.” Sam corrected him, “You’re the strongest man I’ve ever met. But you can also give yourself a break, you know that? Taking down a Hydra base might be too much.”

Barnes accepted the words, although he didn’t give up his initiative.

“I’ll never know if I don’t push myself.” He suddenly turned to Sam’s eyes as if they were some sort of haven, which, in some level they were, “ ‘sides, you’ll be there with me, right?”

“Yes.” Sam pushed the affirmation almost aggressively, not even waiting for Bucky to finish his thought, “Yes, of course.” He forced Bucky into a hug.

Being the tough love kind of guy, Bucky surrendered to the physical gesture and let his head fall on Sam’s shoulder.

[thanks--for--listening]

Siren Call

okay i’ve been convinced lol so here it is. another BOP fanfic. DinahxHelena but pre-relationship bc thats my fav thing to write. also on ao3

--

It always happened in the quiet moments. The early hours of the morning, when the leftover energy from a mission hadn’t quite disappeared yet. The sleepless nights, when memories clawed their way into her mind and wouldn’t let go until her screams released them. The lazy afternoons, when the radio played softly and melodies she’d almost forgotten danced around her lips. It was only when the world went still that Dinah felt her watching. 

She didn’t remember the first time she noticed it. The staring. Maybe it was because Helena was always watching everything and everyone around them that Dinah didn’t realize how frequently that attention fell on her. How it felt different. Helena looked at the world with suspicion and anger and indifference, but not her. She looked at her with something much softer, something she hadn’t found a name for just yet. No word in her arsenal was deep enough or strong enough to describe it.

Whatever it was, she could feel it now. 

The question she longed to ask sat on her tongue but she forced it to wait. She just wanted a minute, because they were both sitting here, and the silence between them was comfortable and easy and precious. They were all still getting used to this living together thing, but right now, sitting with Helena, both of them done with breakfast but not ready to move on with the day yet, felt like the most familiar thing in the world. It was early enough that the sun had both risen and was still rising, it’s light shining through their window at an angle that, when Helena sat in the kitchen chair in front of her, made her look almost angelic. Dinah gave herself a second to appreciate the view.

“What do you see,” she finally asked, “when you look at me?” 

Helena’s eyes widened, and Dinah couldn’t help but laugh. “I—I don’t—I don’t look at you,” she said, her eyes now uncharacteristically cast towards her lap. Dinah followed her gaze, saw her hands fidget with the hair tie around her wrist. It hadn’t taken her very long to discover that the Helena who showed up during a fight was a completely different person than the Helena who showed up anywhere else. Fight Helena never got nervous, never second-guessed herself. She was all confidence and muscle and focused rage, nothing like the woman in front of her, quiet and awkward and hesitant, avoiding eye contact and twisting a hair tie in her lap over and over again. She didn’t know how she could have two completely different people inside herself, how she found a balance between that. If she found a balance. 

“You look at everyone,” Dinah answered, “but not in the same way.”

“What do you mean?” She didn’t know if it was a genuine question or a way to deflect, but she answered it anyway. 

“You know,” she said, “like Harley. Every time you watch her, you always get confused. Your eyebrows scrunch up right here,” Dinah pointed to the spot on her own forehead, and watched Helena mirror her, “and your eyes get a little squinty.”

“They do?”

Dinah nodded. “And Renee, you always look a little scared of her. Which is crazy, because you could totally beat her in a fight. Don’t tell her I said that,” she added quickly, glancing at the room where Renee was sure to be in bed for at least another two hours, “but you totally could. And yet when you’re with her, there’s always at least one moment where you get so...skittish. It’s like the elephant afraid of the mouse.”

Helena smiled, just barely, and Dinah felt a warmth that the sun couldn’t provide. “I don’t think you’re giving her enough credit,” she said softly. “She could beat me.”

“Oh, she’d make you work for it,” Dinah said, “but when it comes down to it, my money’s on you, Crossbow.” Helena’s smile grew, and she didn’t know if it was because of the sentiment or the nickname. She wished she did, if only so she could keep saying whatever made her look at her like that. “You know,” Dinah continued, “modesty is not something I would have pegged you as having after our first meeting.”

“What, you’re saying saving everyone’s asses didn’t make me seem modest?” 

“Excuse you, that was a team effort.” She joked, and Helena kept smiling, which made her smile, which left them sitting there, smiling at one another underneath the sunlight. “You know what, I take it back,” she said, pretending to look away. “You’re as arrogant as the rest of us.”

“Oh no, I’m heartbroken.” She deadpanned, and Dinah lost it. She didn’t really get it, but somehow everything was funnier when Helena said it. Maybe it was because she didn’t joke around that often. It was as if she didn’t know how to, or didn’t trust herself to be funny, but that only made it more special to Dinah when she did. 

They sat in that feeling for a while, the warmth of getting along. Dinah wanted to keep talking, but there was something about the silence she didn’t want to interrupt yet. So she watched, and she tried to memorize this moment, draw it out and stick it in her pocket so she could look back on it later and remember what it felt like to truly relax.

“Can I tell you something?” Helena said, and even though they were technically in the middle of a conversation, it still caught her by surprise. Helena wasn’t the one to break the silence. She seemed so comfortable in it. She could spend hours without ever making a sound. Dinah didn’t understand it. She knew she wasn’t Harley, who couldn’t stand any moment passing by without making noise, but Dinah still liked to have something to fill the space around her. It was what she was used to. The quiet unnerved her in a way that Helena seemed immune to.

She realized Helena was waiting for a response. She did that a lot. Stuff like rhetorical questions and sarcasm and pop culture references often went right over her head. Harley and Renee liked to poke fun about it, but Dinah secretly found it endearing. It added to her genuity. Made her really easy to trust, despite her inclination for silence. 

Dinah nodded, and Helena kept talking. “You’re why I stayed to fight. That first day.”

“Really?” 

“It was when you took the gun from Cass, when you fought for her. That’s what made me stay.”

“Why?”

“I couldn’t tell,” she said, “with Harley. What her intentions were with the kid. But you — you wanted to keep her safe. I knew it. So if you were in, and you trusted the others enough to fight with you, then I figured I could trust them, too.”

Helena finished her sentence and looked up, almost as if looking for approval. Dinah smiled at her, and she watched as her shoulders relaxed just slightly. 

“Oh, I’m definitely telling Harley that,” she said, and Helena looked almost confused, so she added, “I’ve gotta rub it in her face. She still thinks it was her rousing speech that brought us all together.”

Helena laughed, an occurrence as rare as her starting a conversation. Dinah secretly thought it was partly her fault. She’d come to realize that Helena might have looked at each of them differently, but when she was watching the group all together, it was like she was studying them. Like she was learning how she was supposed to act with them. After their first team-up, when Harley and Cass stole her car, Helena had straight up cackled, but she’d stopped when she saw her and Renee. Something in the way they looked at her made her stop. In the couple months since then, she’d never laughed like that again. 

“Hey,” Helena said, “you never told me how I look at Cass,” and Dinah tried to control her face, she really did, but Helena noticed everything. It was almost annoying, how hard it was to hide around her. She didn’t always get what it meant, but she always saw the emotional stuff. Shifts in mood, tone changes, body language, none of it went unnoticed. She was blind to sarcasm but saw sadness before you even felt it. Dinah watched her process the shift she felt happen, watched her body tense back up again. “Sorry,” She said, even though Dinah knew she didn’t know why she was apologizing, “I—um, I shouldn’t have—“

“No,” she stopped her, “don’t. It’s not you. I just—“ she sighed. “With Cass, I noticed you...you always look a little sad. And I don’t know why.”

Helena gave her a look she couldn’t quite pin down. She almost looked scared, although of what she wasn’t sure. “I don’t want Cass to think she makes me sad,” she said after a minute, her voice so quiet Dinah could barely hear her from across the table. 

“It’s not that obvious,” she said. “It’s just...it’s like you’re seeing two things at once. Like you see her happy, and you look happy, but there’s something in your eyes that sees something else, and that’s what’s sad.”

Ten seconds of agony passed as they sat there, the words lingering between them, before the silence made her too restless. 

“What do I know, though, right?” Dinah said, with a smile that was only mostly forced. “Forget about it. I’m probably just making shit up, or—“

“I think you’re right.” Her voice was soft but the words were loud somehow. Dinah waited. She hoped the silence would do for Helena the opposite of what it did for her. Minutes passed, one right after the other swallowed up by the quiet. Helena didn’t talk like this very often, but when she did, she spoke as if every word mattered, as if each sentence was a puzzle and she had to wait to find the right pieces before she could put it all together. 

Eventually, she found them. “Sometimes, when I see Cass, and I see the life she has, I think...I think that we’re too late.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I think we saved her too late.” She looked up, and Dinah felt like she was staring right through her. “I think about the shit she’s seen already. I think about how we’re all she has, and I think that we’re not enough. I think that she probably wakes up screaming like you do, and I think about whether she’ll always wake up screaming or whether she’ll learn how to stop it, and I think that’s a terrible lesson for a kid to learn, and it makes me so angry but I won’t let her see me angry because I refuse make her life worse. And then I think that makes me really fucking sad.”

Dinah had never heard so many words come out of her mouth at once, each one more heartbreaking than the last. Helena just sat there, eyes wide and breath a little shaky. She could see her hands balled up in fists, could feel the pain rolling off her like waves onto a shore. She could feel the anger in the aftermath, tension in the air so thick she wondered how there was still any oxygen left to breathe, pain so heavy she wondered how Helena walked around every day without shattering under the sheer weight of it all.

Dinah couldn’t stand it. 

“Don’t freak out,” she told her as she stood up, “but I’m going to hug you now, because I don’t know the right thing to say and because I think you need it.”

Dinah walked around the table slowly, part of her waiting for a protest that never came. Helena just sat there, staring straight ahead as if it was the only thing keeping her together. It wasn’t until Dinah placed a hand on her shoulder that she acknowledged she’d left her seat. Dinah reached out her hands, waited for Helena to take them, waited until she’d pulled her up out of her chair, before putting her arms around her. 

Helena just stood there. Dinah had her head against her chest, could feel her heart racing and her body trembling, just slightly. She realized she’d never hugged her before, and she tried to think of the last time someone hugged Helena. Had Harley or Renee? Cass? Any of the men who raised her? Or had she not felt the comfort of familiar arms around her since before she lost her family? The thought made her squeeze tighter. 

She let go after a minute. Helena’s arms never moved from their position at her side, but Dinah didn’t mind. She looked up at her, and she thought she saw tears in her eyes, but it must have been a trick of the light, because she’d never once seen Helena cry. 

“I know talking isn’t really your thing,” Dinah said, “but you know if you ever want to, you can talk to me.”

She turned, walked back to her seat, but stopped when she realized Helena hadn’t moved, was still staring at the place Dinah had stood, as if she saw something that wasn’t there. 

“You alright, H?” She asked hesitantly. 

“I don’t know.” The words came out as a whisper. She looked over, and she wished she had Helena’s skill, because her face was a mosaic of emotions and Dinah couldn’t make out a single one. “Harley says I need therapy.”

Dinah chuckled. “We probably all need therapy. Harley included.”

“Yeah,” She said, but there was something in the way she spoke that made Dinah hesitate. 

“Do you…” She started, not sure if she was crossing a line in asking but also not sure she could just leave the conversation alone. “Is that...something you want to do?”

Helena didn’t say anything for so long Dinah wondered whether she was still here or whether she’d drifted off into her own head, whether she wanted Dinah to come find her and bring her back down to earth. “I don’t want to be angry all the time,” she finally said, her voice soft and strong and tired all at the same time, “but I don’t know how else to be.”

“I get it.” Helena raised her eyebrow at her, just slightly. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m not just saying it,” Dinah sighed, the words coming out without her permission. “When I lost my mom, I spent so much time pissed off at the world. Part of me still is, I guess. It just always felt like if I wasn’t angry, then what happened to her was okay. Like, if I let go of my anger, then I’m letting go of the last thing I have of her.”

Helena was quiet again, and she knew she just had to wait for it, but she was impatient and emotional and desperate to fix what was almost certainly unfixable. “What happens when you do let go?” Helena asked.

Dinah shrugged, tried to keep herself grounded. Psychoanalyzing her traumatic past was not something she’d anticipated doing this morning. “If I figure it out, I’ll let you know.”

Helena just nodded. Neither of them spoke for a while, until the quiet became too much, left too much room for her mind to wander. “How can you stand it?” She blurted out. Helena gave her a confused look, and she elaborated. “So much silence. You never seem phased by it.”

“Growing up, I was taught to meditate. I used to—“ she stopped herself, and Dinah was desperate to know the end of the sentence but knew she couldn’t rush it, had to wait and see how deep the well would go, how much Helena would give her if she showed she was willing to listen. “I didn’t stop hearing it for a while,” she finally said, and she didn’t lower her voice but something in the way she spoke felt different than before. “The shots. The echoes. The screams. But a killer who can’t live in silence will always get caught. So I had to learn. And now,” she shrugged. “Now I don’t mind it.”

Dinah almost didn’t ask, but she didn’t think she’d get another chance. “Do you still hear it?”

Helena sat very still, before nodding ever so slightly. 

“Yeah,” Dinah sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Me, too.”

“I know.” She must have made a face, because Helena hesitantly added, “I hear you when you wake up at night. I used to scream like that, too.”

“Used to?”

“Learning to stop was one of the first things they taught me.”

“And how did they manage to do that?”

Helena looked away, and she felt a pit in her stomach drop. “Ask me anything else,” she said, and Dinah knew it was both a deflection and an invitation, one she wouldn’t let pass on either account. 

“You never answered my first question,” she told her, and Helena glanced back up, and God, there was just something about the way she looked at her that made her brave and bold and desperate in a way she’d never felt before. 

“You’re the one who’s paying attention,” Helena responded. “How do I look at you?”

She wanted to tell her that her face was a language she didn’t quite understand yet, that every movement and shift was sending a message but when it came to her, she just couldn’t read them, or wouldn’t, because she didn’t know whether she saw what was real or what she wanted to see. “I don’t know,” she answered instead. “That’s why I asked.”

Helena was quiet again, but Dinah would wait ages to get an answer. She buried that realization deep into the back of her mind, let it sit there for her to contemplate later. Or never. Never worked, too. 

“When I look at you,” Helena started, and Dinah expected her to look away but instead she stared right at her, “I feel safe. And I haven’t felt safe in a long time.”

Dinah smiled. She didn’t realize how often she did that now. Ever since they started fighting together, ever since they started spending the time in between fights together, she hasn’t felt like she was waiting for the world to fall apart, like being happy wasn’t worth it because it was temporary. She wondered if that meant she was finally living. Not just surviving— living. 

She wanted to tell Helena it had been a long time since she’d felt that way, too, but she didn’t. She had a million things she wanted to tell her, things she’d never told anyone else before, and knowing just how badly she wanted it scared her in a way she couldn’t quite describe. When Helena looked at her, when she spoke, it was like a siren call, and Dinah felt every open every wound and sealed memory beckon to be released. More than anything, she wanted to let them go.

But not today. She knew that both of them had probably already passed their limit for emotional vulnerability for the day (or week), so she left it alone, let the words die on her tongue and silently vowed to give them life again soon. She had time, a realization that didn’t feel as daunting as it used to. The thought kept the smile on her face, even as she stood up. Grabbing both of their plates, she hummed a tune as she walked to the sink and hoped Helena heard her, hoped she knew that the song on her lips was for her and no one else, hoped she recognized it for what it was: a siren call of her own. 

[winchester-fantasies]

A Moment of Selfish Reprieve

Summary: Dean’s losing his memory, and you might be the only one able to keep everything together. Set in 12x11: “Regarding Dean.”

Word Count: 2026

Warnings: fluff, angst

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Winchester Fantasies’ Masterlist

     You didn’t know how long you traveled. The clock registered a little over three hours since you’d left the bunker, but it felt more like three days. You’d come as soon as you’d gotten the call from Sam: Dean had been hit by a memory curse. Sam and Rowena were on a time crunch to find the cure before Dean not only completely lost himself but also lost all memory of being human, eventually leading to his death.

     You burst through the door of the motel, finding Sam and Rowena talking in hushed tones, discussing the plan of action. “Where is he?” you demanded, sauntering in, not bothering to shut the door behind you.

     “In the bathroom,” Sam said, motioning to the closed door catty-cornered to him.

     “But I wouldn’t go in there, dear,” Rowena cautioned as you approached the door. You sent her a defiant glare, but you paused, your ear against the door, your hand on the doorknob. You could hear Dean inside. He was talking to himself, and although his words were muffled, you could make out his desperate tone.

     You cracked open the door gingerly, peeking around the corner so as not to startle him. He was standing in front of the sink, leaning heavily against the basin as his hands gripped the sides. He stared intensely into the bathroom mirror, his usually sparkling green eyes clouded with fear. 

     He repeated the same thing over and over, his words a mantra of desperation as he struggled to retain his memory. His name was Dean Winchester, Sam was his brother, Mary Winchester was his mother, and Cas was his best friend. There was no mention of you, and your heart sank. Had he already forgotten you? His childhood playmate, his surrogate sister, his other best friend besides Cas?

     Your worries were soon forgotten as Dean started over. But this time he faltered, his words halting at the tip of his tongue, his name now a foggy memory as his mind fought to remember.

     Your heart seized up, and you pushed through the door, the doorjamb hitting the lower wall with a thud. He turned at the sound, tears glinting in the muted light.

     “(Y/N),” he croaked, and your heart nearly leapt from your chest at his recognition. You nodded, a smile forming on your lips as a tear escaped and slid down your cheek.

     Dean crossed the space between you in two strides before all but throwing himself into your open arms. His arms came around you, pulling you firmly against him as he buried his face in your neck. “I don’t know what’s wrong, (Y/N). I can’t remember,” he said, his normally strong voice now a frightened whimper.

     You fought against the tears that threatened to spill as you pulled him tighter against you. “I know. I know. It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay. I promise,” you whispered, your hands caressing the back of his neck and your fingers weaving through his hair.

     He melted against your comforting touch, and you found yourself stumbling backwards at his increasing weight. He seemed to realize it, too, because he stepped back as if afraid he was hurting you.

     You smiled reassuringly and took his hand in yours as you lowered yourself to the floor, tugging at him softly. He followed suit, matching your crisscrossed legs as he faced you. He was still gripping your hand like a lifeline.

     Footsteps approached the bathroom and stopped at the entrance. You looked up to find Sam. He was watching Dean, a mixture of worry and pity filling his eyes. “Everything okay?” you asked. Dean tore his gaze from you to his younger brother. Sam swallowed at the lack of recognition in Dean’s eyes as he tried to place a name to Sam’s unknown face.

     “Uh, yeah,” Sam responded, the quiver in his voice not going unnoticed. He cleared his throat and looked back to you, his eyes heavy with unspoken fear. “I’m going to the witches’ house. Rowena said there’s a book that will help us get Dean back.”

     “Who’s Dean?” Dean interjected, looking at you with genuine interest.

     Your heart sank at the reminder of just how far gone Dean already was. You swallowed past the lump in your throat and looked back up to Sam. “Just hurry,” you implored.

     Sam nodded, his lips set in a grim line. “Rowena’s here if you need anything,” he said before he walked away, the motel door slamming behind him.

     You turned back to Dean who was once again staring at you. His eyes still held recognition, and you squeezed his hand and smiled. He grinned in return before his mouth opened into a wide yawn. “You’re tired,” you chuckled. “Let’s get you settled somewhere more comfortable.”

     You started to pick yourself up off the floor, but Dean stopped you with a hard tug on your hand. “No, no, no,” he begged, his voice sharp and eyes wide with fear. You suddenly realized just how scared Dean really was. He was feeling vulnerable and confused and the bathroom was his safe haven.

     “Okay,” you said with a smile, sitting down again. Dean’s eyes filled with relief, and his shoulders relaxed. “Let’s just lay down here, then,” you suggested as Dean bit back another yawn.

     He nodded wearily as you helped Dean lay down on the linoleum before settling yourself next to him, your forearm coming to rest under your head. The floor was sticky and smelled like piss, and you wondered what other filth coated the floor and walls of this questionable motel room. But you shook off the disgusting thoughts and focused on Dean who lay across from you, his eyes glued to your face.

     You reached over and ran your fingers through his hair before letting them run down the side of his cheek, his stubble rough against your fingertips. You continued to stroke his face, your touch paving a familiar path across his skin.

     You smiled gently as Dean’s eyes grew heavy under your ministrations and contentment filled your heart at being so close to him. Somewhere along the way you’d lost your heart to Dean Winchester. You weren’t sure where or even how, no matter how many times you went over it. All you knew was that it was.

     However, you never gave yourself permission to admit it to anyone but yourself. In the life you led, there was no room for love or relationships. They only made you weak and got you killed. Not that Dean would have wanted you anyway. He’d made that abundantly clear over the years with his one-night stands, quickies with bar waitresses, and the occasional and short-lived relationship like Lisa and Cassie.

     You caressed his forehead, and he closed his eyes at your touch, a soft sigh escaping his mouth, his warm breath brushing your face. Rowena said Dean wouldn’t remember anything from during this time once his memory was restored. You could let your guard down just this once. Allow yourself a moment of selfish reprieve. You ran your thumb over his mouth, his plump lips tantalizingly soft against your skin. Your eyes mapped out his face, memorizing every line, dimple, and blemish. 

     “I love you,” you whispered, your voice so soft and low it barely reached your ears.

     Sudden footsteps crossed the floor and high heels clicked on the linoleum as Rowena entered the bathroom. You glanced up to meet her agitated gaze. “There’s been a change of plans, I’m afraid,” she stated, raising a shaky hand to her brow.

     You frowned as you sat up, your intimacy and secret admission now forgotten. Dean sat up, too, his shoulder pressed against yours as he sought to remain close to you, his eyes gauging Rowena warily. “What happened?” you asked.   

     Ten minutes later you were piled in the Impala, Rowena sitting in the back while Dean sat in the front, his body glued to your side as you drove. He had been insistent that he stay close to you, his suspicious gaze never leaving Rowena. She had rolled her eyes, but you had felt butterflies at his protective attitude. You were his most precious and last remaining memory, and he wanted to keep it safe. Even though you knew it wouldn’t last, you ate it up, years of unrequited love making you grasp at even the tiniest drop of something more.

     You made it to the house in record time, you and Rowena running up to the house and slipping in quietly as you began your recon mission to save Sam who had been captured by the witches. You were thankful you and Rowena had had enough sense to leave notes for Dean, instructing him on what to do in case he forgot to stay in the Impala and decided to set foot inside the house. The witches were powerful - even stronger than Rowena, and you could tell it was a losing battle as Rowena was thrown into a wall.

     To say you were relieved when Dean walked in was an understatement. And despite knowing he couldn’t remember anything, you were elated when you saw his pistol that you knew was loaded with witch-killing bullets. And your heart swelled with pride when Dean decided to trust Sam enough to shoot the witches and not his brother.

     Dean uncertainly followed Rowena up the stairs after the battle. His eyes were wide with fear again, his gaze never leaving yours. “It’s okay,” you mouthed to him with a nod of encouragement. He sent you one last imploring look before disappearing into the room.

     It was silent for a few moments, and then a bright flash of light emanated from under the door. You and Sam held your breaths as Dean and Rowena descended the stairs a few minutes later. Sam’s face dropped, and your heart plummeted as Dean looked between the two of you in confusion and questioned Rowena who you were.

     Relief flooded your senses when Dean finally broke down in laughter as he revealed he was only joking. Sam’s face was one of annoyance, but it was quickly forgotten as he approached his brother and embraced him.

     Dean enveloped you next, his strong arms wrapping you into a tight bear hug. You melted against him, breathing in his scent. You felt a pang of sadness remembering the intimate moment you had shared with him in the motel bathroom and the reminder that he wouldn’t remember it. You sighed deeply and smiled up into his once again sparkling eyes as you withdrew from his embrace and followed Sam and Rowena to the Impala. You had been given a rare opportunity as a hunter to let go for a moment. To admit your feelings. And that’s all you could have asked for.

     You were just about to slide into the backseat when Dean stopped you, one of his hands coming to the top of the door, the other falling firmly to the side of your waist. He was so close you could feel the heat radiating from his body in the cool night air. He leaned down, his warm breath tickling your ear. “I love you, too,” he whispered, so light it was barely audible.

     You snapped your head up, finding his face only a breath away from your own. His mouth was formed into a smirk, and his eyes held something you’d only ever seen him give to Lisa. His gaze flitted down to your lips and back up to meet your eyes. Was he going to kiss you?

     You were disappointed as he abruptly moved away, striding around the front of the Impala and opening the driver’s side. He paused, meeting your gaze over the top of the vehicle. His lips still held a smirk as he shot you a wink and stepped inside.

     The entire ride back to the bunker had you wound up into a bundle of nerves, butterflies dancing freely in your stomach. You and Dean exchanged glances in the rearview mirror while Sam and Rowena talked, silent promises of forever kisses and intimate moments you’d only ever dreamed of.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading!

***Please do not share my work on any other platform without my consent. 

[disappearinginq]

fanfic tag game

I was tagged by @waitingforthestarstofall - this will be a good distraction from rage (SO MUCH RAGE) Thanks!

Questions:

Ao3 Name: IceQueen1 (same on FFN)

Fandoms: Oh damn. Umm...written for: Agents of SHIELD, and the 100 which I actively avoid now, even if those were some of my favorite works; Lucifer, Constantine, Supernatural, Magnum PI 2018, Deception, Common Law, Daredevil, Iron Fist, Merlin, MCU-ish, Doctor Who. Unpublished: Prodigal Son and Outer Banks and one crossover with MacGyver 2016. 

Number of fics: Well...depends on how you count. Posted or with every intention of posting - 56, though some of those are from when I was like 14 (it shows, but I like them and they’re valuable learning tool). Unpublished and snippets here and there...::nervous laugh:: 109?

1. Fic you spent the most time on: Toss up between  Wrong Side of Heaven,  Damnatio Memoriae (which has given me the worst case of imposter syndrome I kind of cry every time I look at it), and  Running Up That Hill

2. Fic you spent the least time on:  Catalyst - literally wrote it on an illegal lunch break on a computer that wasn’t mine and posted it on a government computer. 

3. Longest Fic: Huh. Apparently not Damnatio, but  Running Up That Hill, at an impressive 104k words in the Agents of SHIELD fandom. 

4. Shortest Fic:  Promises to the Dead in Supernatural fandom. 

5. Most hits: Even without combining from FFN and AO3 - Damnatio Memoriae

6. Most kudos: Damnatio Memoriae

7. Most comment threads: Damnatio Memoriae (see a trend?)

8. Fave Fic you wrote: This is like picking favorite pets. Um, actually, despite the headaches they’ve given me, Damnatio ties with  Left Behind. Both unfinished (Left Behind because I got so pissed at the 100 I stopped watching), and Damnatio because I have nightmares about it, but I think I like my writing in those two the most. Very close third is Wrong Side. 

9. Fic you want to rewrite/expand on:  Remedy or  Cecidit Angelus

10. Share a bit of your WIP or share a story idea that you’re planning:

You need to know the answer to this is 9. Possibly more. But there’s part of Damnatio: 

Lucifer looked…haggard. Tired in a way she’s never seen him before, dark shadows under even darker eyes, his normally immaculate appearance disheveled as if he’d been on a bender since the last time she saw him. He didn’t stand up straight, slightly hunched over and cockeyed, though that could just as easily be because he was standing on loose sand. It could also be from the handle of scotch held loosely in one hand, more than two thirds empty. His five o’clock shadow was more like like 12 o’clock, and his hair free of product ruffled in the breeze. “You rang?” he asked, one corner of his mouth twitching as if he meant to smile as his own joke but couldn’t be bothered with the effort. He swayed on his feet before righting himself. “I was wondering how long it would take you to try this.” Chloe could smell the alcohol on him ten feet away, even in the breeze coming off the ocean. “What happened to you?” Lucifer laughed at that. It was high pitched, bordering on manic, and he scrubbed a hand over his face, his fingers scraping along the rough stubble on his cheeks. “I…I don’t know how to answer that, Detective.” He held up the scotch, violently shaking it back and forth. “To quote a younger sibling of mine - ‘I found a liquor store, and I drank it’.”

An unnamed Outer Banks fic: 

JJ scoffed at that, wincing as the sudden movement jostled his ribs. “Yeah. An adult. The last thing I need right now is an adult.” He seemed to consider that for a moment. “Though…I guess there are a couple things I could need less. A snake bite. Or a jellyfish sting. Or a missing leg. Or -” “Dammit kid,” Shoupe interrupted, not caring where the list was headed. “This isn’t a game. You can’t do this on your own, you’re barely sixteen. You can’t take care of yourself at sixteen, and if this isn’t proof enough of that, I don’t know what is. You need an adult -” JJ’s electric blue eyes narrowed as he stared at him, lower bloodied lip pinched between his teeth. “Yeah? You mean the like adults who looked the other way for eight years when I came to school with black eyes and broken bones and the same clothes for weeks on end? Or the adult who gave me those black eyes and broken bones? Or do you mean the adult who killed my best friend? Or the adult who aided and abetted said adult who killed my best friend? Or the adult who tried to rob us at gunpoint. Or maybe you mean the adults who stole money from a crime scene to ‘dip their beak’? Those adults? Are those the fucking adults you mean, Shoupe? ‘Cause if not, I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about. I’ll take my chances. From where I’m sitting, I’m not doing any worse.” Shoupe ran an appraising eye over the kid. “I doubt that.” “The bar is pretty fucking low, Sheriff.” “You came here though, didn’t you?” JJ glared at him before turning away a muttering, “Don’t read too much into it. Robbing the CVS would’ve been a little hard to do without a getaway car.” Shoupe didn’t miss the way the kid avoided mentioning the long, ragged looking cut down the front of his left leg. “And none of your friends have first aid kits?” JJ steadfastly ignored him, ignored the way that his leg was beginning to bounce against the ceramic of the tub side as he dabbed ineffectively at the blood. “Hmm?” JJ bit his lip, whether from his less than gentle ministrations or to keep from snapping back, Shoupe couldn’t tell. Probably a toss up. “Nothing you want to say for yourself?” With a snarl, JJ whirled on him. “I can’t go to them, okay? I can’t drag them into this shit with me. Pope already lost his ticket out of here, and Kie -” he didn’t finish the thought, but there was something hard and broken in his voice as it suddenly wavered. “This is on me. I did this. So I deal with this. And I don’t drag them down with me. No one else drowns because of me.” And there it was. JJ Maybanks and John B Routledge were thicker than thieves and where one was, the other wasn’t far behind, and it’d been that way ever since Shoupe joined the Kildare Sheriff’s Department. Hell, half his calls were responding to something they’d done - a particularly memorable one being an impromptu fireworks display inside the gym when Fourth of July was rained out. What happened when one half of you was suddenly gone?

And Bad Things

The dog bit down, hard, on Rick’s forearm, teeth sinking into skin and muscle until they hit bone, the dog violently shaking its head as Rick tried to pry the dog loose with his other hand, still caught in the rifle strap. He could still hear gunfire, could still hear the lieutenant yelling at the man, but what he could hear louder than anything else was the sound of the power drill and the kid screaming in agony.  

And Wrong Side

Rick tried not to think about the disaster that was his first mission as Thomas’s Overwatch. He hadn’t had much in the way of experience with SEALs, not firsthand. Marines and Navy rarely overreached during missions and centuries long tradition of hating each other kept most at arms length from each other, even back on base. Rick had plenty of experience keeping people away from him even before the Marines, but Thomas didn’t seem to take the hint. It hadn’t helped that Nuzo and TC hit it off almost instantly, and TC was less opposed to being friends with the walking ray of sunshine that was Thomas Magnum, which just made Rick all the more determined to hate the guy. It wasn’t until after their haywire mission that’d gone to Hell six ways from Sunday that Rick finally understood Thomas Sullivan Magnum. That his relaxed and affable nature wasn’t an act, and that he would bend over backwards to help anyone - anyone - regardless of whether or not he was supposed to. That he never bothered with anyone’s past, and never offered his own, because as far as he was concerned, here and now was all that mattered. That for seeming generally oblivious, the younger man missed nothing. And for all that easy going ‘rain is just another kind of good weather’ attitude, it hid a seriously terrifying alter ego.

And there’s another Prodigal Son (or two), I don’’t even want to count how many other Magnum’s, Lucifer, or random things that catch my attention because that is HOW I ROLL. 

Anyway. 

Tagging: @dragonnan, @beguilewritesstuff, @buckky, @itsjustdg, @21forestglades, @aliathewriter and whoever else wants to play, because Tumblr is being dumb and won’t let me tag anyone else (also, don’t feel obligated if you are tagged and don’t want to - I’m just hella nosy about sneak peeks) 

[amberandmetal]

Are you strange like me?

Written for: @youngmoneymilla​s 5k challenge Squares filled: First kiss for @buckybarnesbingo and Touch starvation for @marvelfluffbingo (there is fluff at the end, I swear that counts!) Prompt: “I think there’s a flaw in my code/These voices won’t leave me alone/Well my heart is gold and my hands are cold (Gasoline – Halsey)” Pairing: Bucky x F!reader Warnings: Angst O´hoy. There are PTDS elements, anxiety and panic etc but not too much (and there is fluffy flufflfuff at the end because that’s just the rules, mkay?), mentions of war and being kidnapped, touch starvation mentioned. Rating: Teen and up Word count: ca 3,5 k Summary: After the war you need somewhere to belong, and The Avengers need someone to make them look good. A/N: Yeah, this got a life of it’s own. Not really how I initially planned it but I’m happy with how it turned out. I’m surprised at myself for keeping it clean (seriously, who am I?) I have little to no knowledge of military jargong and workings so if there are any mistakes please let me know and I will fix. English is my 2nd language and this is unbetad so all mistakes are mine.

    Tony’s brown eyes felt just as enigmatic and piercing even through the television screen, whiskey and liquid intelligence peering at the interviewer from behind thick sunglasses slid down to the tip of his nose; and on the side of him, smaller, grey, bland, were you, looking every bit as uncomfortable as you had felt.

You grabbed the flesh between clavicle and chest, kneading and scratching the skin where the weight of your medals had hung only hours ago, where the echo of them still made it hard for you to breathe.

    “She’s a perfect addition to the team and she’s been adapting beautifully. We’re really proud to have another veteran amongst our midst,” Tony clapped a proud hand on your shoulder and flashed the camera one of his legendary PR-smiles “we’re lucky to have her.”

    “Ugh.” You clicked the TV off and turned around on the couch, laying with your face towards the cushions.

    The Avengers had been in deep water after the latest attack on New York, more and more of the masses forgetting what they’d done for them — and where they would be if they hadn’t. Acting- and calling them out for the destruction and desolation. Anger fueled by fear leading them in a search for a focus point to target their pain. The team needed to make a move to get in the people’s good graces again.

    And then there were you.

    After the war nothing had been the same. Before when you closed your eyes there had been darkness and calm behind your eyelids, an ethereal vastness that relaxed you, allowed you to breathe before opening them again. A refuge in your daily ongoings.

    After there had been nothing but gunsmoke and ash, billowing from the depths you stared into each time you closed your eyes. Wretched stench of putrefied flesh simmering in the smoke and seeping into your skin from behind your eyelids, digging tunnels in your fibers, filling your nose and mouth with dry sand and bile.

    You gasped, back shooting out from the couch as if you could escape the waking nightmare sticking to the inside of your skull. It burned at your temples like electricity.

    The official statement was that you were a normal soldier, a gunner, that had been captured and held captive, then somehow managed to not only break yourself out, but the other seven soldiers stuck in that hellhole beside you as well; and you’d gotten mighty decorated for it.

    You scoffed. Decorated, sure, and forced to lie.

    There had been nothing normal about you, or what happened. No one spoke a word of the special ops you’d been a part of, or that the people that had held you captive had neither been Al-qaeda or even the Taliban. It had been Hydra. The Nazi science division that you’d been told in school had been taken down by Captain America.

    Cut off one head, and two will take its place. Uh-huh, yep.

    That was not the only lie you’d been told, or been forced to tell. The seven other captives were more like hundreds, hundreds of lives that you’d left behind when you managed to flee with only a small group as the others were left being tortured and experimented on. Their screams stayed with you, a never ending echo in the hollow of your mind.

    The other seven —among them a woman named Grace, a fellow american with black hair and even blacker eyes, and a smile that refused to be beaten down— had been taken down during your escape. Grace had clutched her chest as the blood from it sprayed across your arm, she’d fallen, roaring at you to go, to run, to ‘fucking save yourself, damnit!’. You’d gotten out with only a bullet wound through your right hand and left shoulder, and a newfound weight in your chest.

    According to your Officer the public didn’t need to know that the people you saved didn’t survive, only that you had freed them.

    “Remember, Sergeant. You gave them the gift of dying free. That’s quite something.”

    Yeah well, they didn’t look free, and it sure as hell didn’t feel like a gift.

    Survivor’s guilt your shrink called it. Whatever.

    You kneaded the spot where your medals had hung. The Medal of Honor and the Prisoner of War among others. You shuddered; revulsion tumbling in your gut. It was a torment wearing them- but it was, as they say, a necessary evil.

    When you’d returned you couldn’t, just as many others, get back to your normal life; a decade of training and war had taken a toll and you weren’t the same. The trauma clung to your spine like a ball and chain slowly turning your vertebrates into lead. It had made a home for itself there in your back, cozying up in the hollow where neck meets skull, safe where you couldn’t reach.

    You had been tethering on the edge of insanity when you’d finally broken down and pleaded with your Captain to let you back out there, and thankfully, blissfully, he had —albeit a bit reluctant— agreed. But it wasn’t the same. Suddenly you couldn’t work with your group, too on edge, too hyper aware and too concerned by your teammates safety. Once you were back your team had started out on a small mission, delicate but nothing you couldn’t handle — or that’s how it should have been. You had once been like a well oiled machine and now you were falling apart. So you got discharged, told it just wasn’t a good fit anymore, which was a “real shame considering.”

    So The Avengers needed too look good, and you needed a place where you could belong. And nothing gets you back into America’s good graces as a decorated veteran.

    So here you were.

    Here you were..

     ~~~

    The sound of opening and closing doors followed by laughter made your ears perk up. Steve and Bucky back from their morning run, from the sounds of it. Steve’s laughter easy and full and Bucky’s quieter, more of a chuckle —  deep and tense. Always so tense.

    Bucky had adapted relatively quickly to life at the compound, but he still kept mostly to himself. Steve, of course, had made it his life’s mission to draw the old Bucky out, teasing and joking with him, taking him back to Coney Island, practically dragging him out of his room for Team bonding nights (usually movie nights, but sometimes you played video games, and one particularly memorable evening Clint had persuaded the entire team into playing Twister. He lost. Every time), yet it never felt sincere from Bucky’s side. He did try. You could see it in the shape of his stance, the frustration burning in his eyes in spite of the broad grin he managed to apply for Steve. Still it looked less like two friends hanging out and enjoying down time together and more like a frightened animal trying to appease it’s rescuer.

    You had no idea if anyone else noticed it, but you had a pretty big clue that Steve had caught on. Every once in a while Bucky would look away, trying his damndest to laugh at one of Tony’s jokes, and something arduous would set in the blue of Steve’s eyes like stone.

    Both men came through the doors, sweat darkening their clothes and making them glisten in the morning sun.

    “Good run?”

    Steve almost jumped.

    “Oh, hi Y/n. Yeah, Bucky still aint got shit on me though.” he laughed and shook Bucky’s shoulder playfully. Bucky flinched slightly at the contact, but quickly managed to correct himself, quirking the corner of his mouth in a half smile and raising his hand in greeting.

    “Language,” you admonished with a wink before letting your eyes land softly on Bucky and offering a small smile “Morning, Buck.”

    He huffed a little, a twitch in his smile: a mirroring sensation in your chest.

    Steve looked between the both of you with a raised brow.

    “Yeah, okay. Gotta hit the showers! You too, punk— you reek.”

    Something light flashed in Bucky’s eyes and his smile grew almost sincere.

    “Do not gimme that, you’re the punk. Always were.”

    “Yeah, but that was before I hit my growth spurt!”

    You snorted at the same moment Bucky did, sniggering under your breath.

    Steve looked absolutely delighted.

    “Some growth spurt..” Bucky mumbled following Steve towards the elevators.

      ~~~

    The anxiety was a physical thing. It was birthed out of every patch of skin where you had been touched, ebbing out like crests until you were covered in it — sticky and suffocating, viscous and disgusting, and you were painted from tip to toe.

    You cursed yourself under your breath for not thinking it through. The PR-people had of course wanted you to wear your dress uniform and you had simply refused, thinking ‘no, no anything but that. Going naked would be better than that’ and after some coaxing from Tony and Miss Potts they had relented. What a mistake it had been.

    Now there you were, locked in your room in a gorgeous gown that showed more skin than not, after a night of having been passed around like a basket of breadsticks.

    Smile for the camera.

    Oh hi, hello, why yes I am she, yes I did save those soldiers.

    Handshake.

    Anything for my country.

    Laugh.

    Oh yes, they have been treating me real nice.

    Hugs.

    Touches.

    Gooseflesh.

    Panic.

    Bile.

    Two hours were all you could take and when Pepper had called to a toast you saw your chance and took it. Now your clothes pooled in a trail on the floor leading to your bathroom as you hurried into the spray.

    The daffodil-yellow loofah quickly worked up a lather, the sudds slightly pink and smelling of strawberries and cream, a welcome softness after the sharp and biting too harsh reality of the party. Scrubbing up and down your body your muscles started to untense, the coating of dread coming off like shedded skin. A sigh escaped your lips: you could breathe again.

    Of course, you had agreed to all of this, to help, to be this shining face and PR circus for the team, because it also meant that you in fact were a part of said team. Skillset-wise you were absolutely up to par with both Barton and Romanoff and they all seemed genuinely happy to have you. But this.. facade, was the price you had to pay, and you gladly did — did not mean it didn’t hurt to do it though.

    Hair washed and every inch of your skin thoroughly scrubbed pink you got out of the shower, wrapping yourself in a big fluffy robe, sighing at the comforting slide of cotton against your bones.

    You exhaled loudly, slumping down on your bed, ignoring the trilling ringtone of your phone in favour of the fluffy pillows that gave way for your weight like a hug. Pepper would have to wait.

     ~~~

    Tap, tap, tap.

    A soft knock on your door snapped you out of focus. Not in the mood for company you hesitated, even though knowing fully well who was on the other side of that door. Metal on metal gave a much sharper sound than flesh.

    “Bucky?” you opened the door ajar.

    He looked a bit sheepish and apologetic, hunched in the empty corridor.

    “Hey, Y/n… you okay?”

    You shrugged, but then looked him over. He was doing a good job of holding it together but you could see the signs: the nervous tapping of his fingers against the wall, his skin a shade paler than usual and his eyes flickering from point to point, not stilling for more than a few seconds.

    “Are you?”

    Abalone eyes flitted to yours — so bright, so sharp.

    “Of course,” he tried for a smile “I just wanted to check on you. You kinda took off like somebody burned ya.”

    You huffed.

    “Yeah, well.. I wasn’t as prepared as I thought I was for-.. for everything.”

    Nodding he ran a hand through his hair, a scent sent wafting. Your skin turned effervescent.

    “You wanna come in?”

    There was no mistaking the gratefulness softening his gaze.

    You backed up to let him in, careful to lock the door behind him.

    He sat down on your bed, his eyes snapping across your room and his fingers tapping away at his thigh.

    “Howd’ya manage to make it so… homey so fast?”

    You followed his gaze to your walls, the paintings and curiosities covering them, the shelves with figurines and too many plants, the bookcase littered with books and notebooks and the deep teal coloured couch with more cushions than actual space for sitting.

    You plopped down next to him, careful of keeping your robe from slipping.

    “I don’t know, I just can’t stand cold walls.”

    A beat of silence followed, hardening the air. Always this damn feeling when he got close, every time.

    “You write?” he asked, pointing at your notebook lying open on your nightstand.

    “Sometimes,” you hesitated “mostly to clear my head. My shrink down at the VA suggested it.”

    “Oh, that’s right.. I forgot - Steve told me but I guess it slipped my mind. A lot o-”

    “of new information.”, you finished in unison.

    He chuckled and scratched at his neck, making strands the shade of dark rosewood fall and shield his face. The close proximity made your skin tingle.

    “May I?”, he gestured toward the open pages “or maybe you can read me something?”

    There was something vulnerable there, something sweet and wistful — somber.

    You reached for the notebook and scooted closer and Bucky shot up like he had been burned.

    You peered up at him.

    “Why do you do that?”

    “I- fuck, I’m sorry. I-”

    “Why? I mean I’ve seen you.. even when Steve touches you, you flinch.”

    Bucky looked taken aback for a second but then seemed to slump, a tired exhale leaving his lungs like it had been forced out of him.

    “It’s that obvious?”

    You backed up a bit.

    “Tell me.”

    “Why do you care?”

    “Because I do.”

    He looked hesitant for a second.

    “I haven’t been touched in a.. positive way, in a long time. Truth be told I’m starved for it, all I want is to feel that connection, I mean it’s all I dream about when it’s not the nightmares.. but-”

    “Then why?”

    “- but when it’s sudden, when I’m not ready for it. It burns. It’s too much, too fast and it’s unsettling. I hate it. It’s like getting what you want but not on your own terms and the sensation on my skin gets overwhelming.. and.. fuck, yeah I think that’s the gist of it,” he wrought his hands together, looking away “I’m sorry, I’m still adjusting.”

    He looked so beautiful, even like this. Even in pain and confused his presence took up the room, changed the atmosphere into whatever it was that was Bucky. The scent of him in your nostrils, bergamot and cedar, and the heavy weight of him dipping your bed, and you so badly wanted to inch closer, to reach out and touch, feel if he’s as warm as he looks, giving him something of that that he craves, being a balm to soothe, to hush, to lull.

    “So.. if you were ready for it?”

    His eyes blinked up to yours.

    You got closer, sitting on your knees with an outstretched hand, close enough to touch without in fact doing so.

    “…if you know I’m going to touch you, if you can.. ready yourself then maybe, it won’t feel like that?”

    His eyes got soft then, filled with something you couldn’t find a word for, and he turned on the bed to face you fully.

    “That’s very sweet of you, doll— mind if I call ya that?” you shook your head “mind reading me some of your texts?—  is it poetry?”

    You smiled, shy and full lipped.

    Spreading open the book, you flipped to where you had been writing last and pulled it into his lap, careful as to not touch.

    “Here.. it’s kind of morbid but..”

    “Yeah, hush. No self deprecation, that’s my thing. Let me make up my own mind about it.”

    You chuckled but conceded.

    “MJ?”

    “Mary jane.”

    You chuckled at the confusion still present on his face.

    “Marijuana.”

    “Ah.”

    You looked on closely, nervous as he read once, twice, three times.

    “You hate it,” you said “I get it, it’s a bit extreme and maybe not what you’re used to but it’s just my thoughts going haywire and shit you know a-”

    “I like it.”

    “Huh?”

    “I like it. Is this how you feel? The PR thing? Everything?”

    “Basically, but it’s just thoughts, words on paper. Emotions. It’s still worth it.”

    He nodded, going back to read it a fourth time.

    “It’s unusual, I’ll give you that but, it’s .. beautiful in it’s strange way.. and very- very relatable,” he looked up, face suddenly so earnest and open it was almost startling “especially the last part,” he huffed and a hint of bitterness momentarily crept into his voice  “I can safely say I know what it’s like to feel like there’s a flaw in my code..”

    A breath. Shaking himself out of it.

    “I don’t really write myself but, I can see myself in this. In your texts. A lot of this- I mean I’ve had similar thoughts,” he smiled.

    The hard air around you grew thick, hanging around your heads like cottony molasses. You looked up from your text, eyes scanning the shape of him. Something urgent took root somewhere close to your solar plexus.

    “Can I touch you?”

    He was stock still for a moment or two, but then he nodded.

    You scooted a little bit closer, your movements slow and cautious; tentative. The back of his hand was a contrast of soft and rough against your palm. Soft hairs and raised scars.

    A deep yet quiet groan sounded from somewhere buried inside him —  you looked up just in time to see something in his features breaking.

    “Is it too much? Should I stop? I -”

    He shook his head.

    “No.. please.”

    Your heart sped up — a cassette set on fast forward. You opened the cuffs of his sleeve and set to gingerly and very slowly roll them up to his elbow. His breathing turned heavy and deep: an odd mixture of tension coupled with relief.

    Stretching your fingers you splayed your hand out over his skin, calmly stroking: his hand, wrist, forearm. You were so close now, so near, the warmth of him was a tangible thing against your exposed skin. A crescendo beat hammered in your chest.

    “Can I kiss you?”

    Surprised, you met his gaze. Abalone shells, sea glass beneath water, thunderclouds and liquid silver and every other simile that came to mind and none of them did his eyes justice. A chilled tingle enveloped your skull and flooded down your spine. You nodded.

    “Let me.”

    You slowly moved, put your hand on the side of his neck, revelling in the sigh you got in return, gasping when he mirrored you.

    His lips were dry, plump, warm. A soft cushion against your own. You opened to let his lower lip in between yours, letting your tongue taste for the first time. Salt and metal, twilight and heat.

    His metal arm came up behind your back, pulling you in with a metallic whirr until you were flush against him, and you gave out a sharp whine.

    He immediately let go.

    “Shit! Did I scare ya? I didn’t think—”

    You blinked at him, then heat flushed your cheeks.

    “Yeah, no.. not what happened, Barnes.”

    He quirked an eyebrow, and you simply grabbed his arm and put it back around you, allowing a tiny moan escape your lips to get your point across.

    The chuckle that elicited from him was deep and disbelieving.

    “Better than scared I guess.”

    “You guess?”

    He grinned and surged back to claim your mouth; the smile growing against your lips genuine enough to taste.

[talinexa]

Don’t You Remember? - One Shot

I haven’t actually gotten far enough in the series to know Axel’s backstory apart from the fact that he was friends with Saïx but I only know that because my best friend told me so I kinda made this up for the drama. Most of this takes place sometime during Days.

“Axel?” I shouted, running around the castle in a panic. “Axel?!”

A pair of hands caught my shoulders, arresting my momentum. “What’s wrong, Talinexa?”

I shook my head. “I need to find Axel,” I said. Saïx stared at me as I pulled away from his grip and went rushing off. “AXEL!” My long coat flapped behind me as I ran around. Axel’s room was empty. As was his usual hang out spots in the castle. The commons. The kitchen. Sitting on the exposed pipes near the ceiling. “Where could he be?!” I hissed under my breath as I searched.

“Who are you looking for?” a voice asked from behind me. A familiar one.

“Roxas! I’m looking for Axel. Seen him anywhere? He’s not on a mission, is he?”

“No he got back from his mission earlier. Couple hours ago. Is he not getting some rest?”

“If he is, he’s crashed in a corridor somewhere because his room is empty,” I said.

“We’ll find him. Let’s keep looking. What’s wrong?”

“It’s...” I strangled the words None of your business before they could escape my throat. “It’s about my... abilities. Organization members are supposed to have... unique talents. And... I think something wrong happened. Because mine aren’t unique among the Organization.”

“Meaning?” Roxas asked, poking his head into the library as we passed it.

“I can’t really demonstrate inside,” I said.

“Wasn’t asking you to. You can just tell me, you know,” Roxas remarked. I glared at the window at the end of the hallway for a moment, reining in my temper.

“I’m like Axel,” I admitted.

“I hope not. One is enough,” Roxas joked.

“I just mean... I’ve... got... my special skill is fire,” I said. “Just like Axel.” I hung my head as I poked it into another room.

Roxas paused our search. “Seriously? That’s cool.”

“But... without me being unique... it means the Organization won’t have any use for me. They’ll just eliminate me without a second thought,” I said.

“That’s not necessarily true. As long as you’re useful, you should be fine,” Roxas reasoned.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, look at me and Xion. We can both use Keyblades, and that’s our only talent, but we’re both still here,” Roxas said. “Axel? You in here?”

“Heeey, Roxas! Oh. And Talinexa. What are you two doing here?”

“She’s been looking for you,” Roxas said.

Axel eyed me curiously, folding his arms over his ribs and raising one bright red brow. “That right?”

“Uh-huh.” I nodded.

“What’s the problem?” Axel looked... irritated.

“What do you mean?”

“You never come looking for me---or anybody---unless you have a problem. So what is it?”

I sighed. “Axel... I...”

“She’s got fire power too,” Roxas put in.

“Thank yooouuu, Roxas,” I snapped sarcastically.

He snapped a finger-gun at me. “No prob, Talinexa!”

Axel stared at me. “You’ve... got fire powers too?”

I nodded timidly.

With a few exceptions, Organization members tended to resemble their talents. Axel’s hair, for example. Marluxia’s too. I didn’t. I was a brunette. I looked like I’d end up having earth powers. Not fire.

A smile spread up Axel’s face. “This is the best news I’ve heard all week. C’mon, Talinexa. I’ll teach you what to do. How to use it and how to control it.” He beckoned for me to follow him. I did so. We made our way through the castle to a training room. “We’ll start slow, Tana---Talinexa.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you knew how to do that.”

That earned me a laugh. “You know me too well,” he mused.

His dangerous, disgustingly smug and wickedly attractive crooked smirk started to form on his face.

I remembered when I was whole---when I had a heart. My previous life, as it were. I remembered the concept of finding someone attractive. Maybe the passion and feeling was gone given my lack of a heart, but it would take a fool with poor eyesight to not realize Axel was good-looking. Because he was. And that bothered me.

“Let’s do this,” he said.

“You don’t remember, do you?” Axel asked as I panted on the floor of the training room, my daggers on the floor on either side of me. I looked up at him tiredly.

“Remember what?” I complained.

He chuckled and plopped down next to me, one leg flat on the ground and the other bent up toward his chest to rest his elbow on. “Your life as a Somebody.”

“I do.”

Axel snorted. “No you don’t,” he said. “If you did, you’d remember something you didn’t mention.”

“Stop the stupid ‘speaking in riddles’ thing and just tell me what you mean,” I snapped.

“You didn’t call me out when I slipped.”

“Huh?”

“I almost called you your... Somebody’s name.”

“Tanalie.” I brushed a hand over my hair, smoothing down the flyaways. I hadn’t heard that name in... I didn’t know how long. I couldn’t pinpoint exactly when I’d become Talinexa. Maybe I should have kept track.

“Yeah. You didn’t ask me how I know your Somebody’s name.”

I shrugged. “I didn’t notice you even said it,” I said. “Was more worried about you charring my eyebrows off.”

Axel snorted. “You can’t worry. We don’t feel.”

“Still. I didn’t want you to char my eyebrows off.” I took a deep breath, trying to ease out of panting. “I guess... now that you mention it I guess I... I guess my... memories of being whole are a bit fuzzy at best. I assume you and I knew each other as Somebodies.”

Axel just watched me for a moment. “Yeah. Yeah we did,” he admitted.

“How come your memories are clearer than mine?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Dunno. Just fought hard to remember them, I guess,” he said. “Didn’t want to lose them.”

I nodded and sat up, tucking my braid back down the collar of my trench coat. “I can understand that. Maybe when I first became a Nobody I didn’t want to---or care to---remember who I was as a human.”

Axel pursed his lips and pushed himself to his feet. Dang he was tall. “Maybe.” He brushed a hand over his hair. “Same time tomorrow, got it memorized? You’ll be a fully-fledged pyro in no time.” He shot me a playful wink and left the training room.

I got to my feet and also walked out to wash off the sweat and go to sleep.

Everyone else in the Organization slept in their coats since the coats were protective. I hated it though, so I always removed it. Choosing instead to sleep in my undershirt and trousers.

I was lying on top of my bed for a full two minutes before I realized I was too wound up to sleep.

Sighing, I slung my overcoat back on and left the castle to wander the town. It was exceptionally beautiful after nightfall. Darkness was healing and soothing. The calm of a sleeping town helped relax me.

“Had a feeling I’d find you out here.”

I jumped a foot in the air and whirled around. “Axel,” I greeted, attempting to save my dignity and failing miserably. Not that I felt any shame. Not that I felt anything at all.

He fell into step beside me. “Don’t you remember?” he asked casually as we walked down quiet streets. The trains and trams didn’t run this late, so we could hop the rails without fear of getting run over.

“Remember what?”

“That we knew each other when we were Somebodies.”

I sighed. “Sorry, Axel. I... I don’t. Were we friends?”

He nodded. “Good friends.”

*****

“Lea, what’s going on with you?” Tanalie asked quietly, trying not to cause a scene.

Lea shook his head. “It’s nothing, Tana. Promise. Got it memorized?” His little catchphrase was half-hearted and Tanalie knew better than to fall for it.

“Don’t give me that. I know you better than that. Something’s going on.” She reached out and set her hand on his upper arm. “Don’t you trust me?” The pleading in her dark eyes made him sigh.

“I do,” he said.

“Please? Please tell me? I can’t help if you don’t let me in.” Her smile was forlorn and heartachingly seeking to comfort him.

Lea sighed. “I’m considering Xemnas’ offer,” he said.

She immediately dropped her hand and took a step back. “What? Lea... why?”

*****

“Tanalie!”

She turned around from where she’d been walking the streets of their town, recognizing the voice. She froze. “What... happened to you?” she asked as her best friend jogged to catch up with her. He smirked that familiar smirk but... something was off about it. Wrong. Empty. Reaching up, Tanalie set her fingers on the marks below his eyes. “What are these? And what’s with the black coat?”

Lea’s smirk stayed on his face. “I did it! I accepted Xemnas’ offer!”

“What? Lea! You promised me you’d tell me beforehand---”

“It’s not Lea anymore! I go by Axel now. Cool, huh? Got it memorized?” He chuckled. “And yeah, I kinda forgot. But, Tanalie, it’s so much better this way! Nothing... nothing can hurt me anymore. Emotionally, I mean.”

Tanalie stared at him, eyes flicking between the marks under his eyes and the long coat. “Were you really hurting that bad? That you felt the need to give up your heart?” she asked quietly. “That you felt like you could... give up... us?! Our friendship? You can’t be friends with someone you don’t like and you can’t like without a heart.”

Lea---no, Axel---grabbed Tanalie gently by the shoulders. “That’s not true! We’re still friends!”

Tanalie shook her head and pulled her shoulders from his grip. “No. I don’t know you anymore. Lea is gone. All I see is Axel. And I don’t know Axel. I don’t love Axel. I just... I...” She shook her head again, turned on her heel, and ran away from him.

“Tanalie! Wait!” Axel shouted, running after her.

But she’d always known the town better than he did. All the secret pathways and hidden cubbies and hidey-holes. She disappeared before he could catch up.

*****

The pain Tanalie felt over losing Lea to Axel was acute and nearing the point of being unbearable. He was her best friend. Indeed, her only friend. She’d never been close to Isa even though they associated with each other through Lea. She cried for hours on the very top of the clock tower whenever it got to be too much. She was small and light enough that Lea---no, AXEL, she reminded herself---would never be able to find her up around the bells since he was too heavy, despite him being built like a beanpole.

He willingly gave up his heart. He threw his friendship with her aside like it didn’t even matter.

And... maybe... it didn’t matter. Maybe it never had. To him. Maybe he only hung out with her out of pity. Pity for the poor friendless girl in his school classes who never talked to anyone and kept to herself due to her anxiety.

Tanalie wondered what she could do to rid herself of the pain and the anxiety. To be numb and dispose of icky emotions---

No. Anything but that.

She was not giving up her heart.

“Tanalie! Come down from there!” Even just hearing his voice sent lances of pain through her heart. He was down below on the ledge just over the clock, lowering his hands after cupping them around his mouth. “I want to talk to you! Please!”

She glared at him, curled up in her position with tear tracks dried to her face from the winds this high up.

After a moment, she slid down the shingles. She was the fool who could rarely refuse her best friend anything. Still, her pain and anger were welling up inside her. When she reached Axel, she slugged him on the jaw.

“Okay. I deserved that,” he muttered. “For not telling you.”

“It’s been ages, Axel!” she spat, snarling his name like it was poison in her mouth. “Why come back now?”

“The Organization is down several members. I’m inviting you to join.”

Tanalie scoffed. “Like I would even consider---”

“You’re hurting, Tana. I can see it in your eyes. And the salt tracks.” He brushed a gloved thumb over her tear tracks. She slapped his hand away. “Just... come with me and all the pain will go away. You might not even remember it at all. It’s difficult to know for sure from person to person, but you can leave it all behind. Trust me.” He held his hand out to her.

It was a moment of weakness. Of sorrow and pain. A moment of her judgement lapsing, that she took his hand.

Darkness swallowed them, and the next thing she knew, she was somewhere else. Someone else, too.

Tanalie was gone---and Talinexa was born in her place.

*****

“Hey, Axel?” I asked.

“Hmm?”

“You’re staring at me.”

“Sorry. Just lost in thought,” he said, shaking his head to clear it. “You know, I’ll be honest with you: I always hoped you’d develop some sort of fire power. Just seemed... fitting, I guess. You’ve always had such... fervor, I guess. Drive, maybe. Kinda hard to call it passion since, y’know, we don’t have hearts or feelings anymore.”

I snorted. “Thanks.”

“We should get back. Get some sleep. C’mon.” He held his hand out and created a dark Corridor. His other hand was extended to me. I took it and let him pull me through. I wasn’t particularly gifted at Corridors myself so I relied on Axel’s whenever I could.

We reappeared just outside my room.

“Get some rest, Talinexa. See you tomorrow for training, got it memorized?”

“Sure thing. G’night, Axel.”

“Night.” He strolled off.

I went back into my room. Our little stroll had tuckered me out. Shucking off my overcoat, I collapsed in bed. 

Axel’s voice echoed in my mind. “Don’t you remember? We were good  friends...” I wondered if I wished I could remember when we were friends. I guessed we must have been close if we joined the Organization together.

I wondered how close and if there was ever anything... more involved.

Probably not. Axel seemed like the flirty, arrogant, attractive bad-boy type, but he wasn’t. He was dangerous, to be certain. But underneath the cold-blooded killer, hot-blooded assassin he was, I’d also seen the silly, playful, genuine dork that was his true character. Something about it resonated with me, whispering that was who he truly was under the layers. Underneath everything, he wasn’t bad.

Except for the fact I’d literally seen him make people explode.

And he was going to teach me how to do the same thing.

Without a heart I wasn’t sure if I had a moral sense of right and wrong, but I wondered if I’d be squeamish about his spontaneous combustion ability if I could feel. Seemed like something “normal” people would consider “bad.”

Still, Axel couldn’t have been that bad of a Somebody if we were friends. Unless I was... not a good person as a Somebody.

But that didn’t seem right.

Putting my hands behind my head, I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.

I landed hard on the ground with an, “Oof!” My daggers clattered across the floor.

“Get it memorized, Talinexa: fire is more powerful than you initially expect and if you don’t learn how to control it, you’ll never be able to be in control of the situation,” Axel said.

I groaned and rubbed the spot where I’d been burned. “Good to know. Thanks.”

Axel sat down next to me. “Tanalie... I mean, Talinexa... I need you to remember your life as a Somebody. I need you to remember our friendship. There’s something about it that I don’t know. But you did. And I need you to remember it.”

“I...”

“I know you can do it. You were always smart. Smarter than me and... your memory was always so accurate. You had such an amazingly retentive mind. Please, just, try. It might help you learn how to use your powers.”

I sighed and pushed my flyaway hairs out of my face. “Okay. How do I do this?”

“Memories are connected in a chain. Start remembering your life as a Somebody and the rest will start to follow. Just sit still and let the memories flow. Let your mind wander down the rabbit hole of your life.”

“That sounds like a bad time,” I said.

“Just do it,” Axel said.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “What am I looking for?”

“Your drive. I joined the Organization before you did. Not by much. But enough. Somewhere in there, you found a powerful drive within you. I think it unlocked your fire power.”

*****

“Hi there! I’m Lea!” the teenage boy with the spiky red hair exclaimed. “This is Isa!”

“‘M Tana,” the girl mumbled, not meeting either of their eyes. “W’ll, Tanalie but no one calls me that. No one... calls me anything, actually.” She shrugged and went back to poking at her lunch.

“Mind if we sit with you?” Lea asked.

“Free town,” she muttered.

Lea sat down next to her, already chatting. It was prattle as far as Tana was concerned.

“What... what was your name again?” Tana asked.

“Lea. My name is Lea. Got it memorized now?”

“Yeah. Sorry. I just... never really talk to anyone.” She shuffled in her seat and took a bite of her lunch. “Hard to remember their names.”

Lea didn’t need to know she was lying. She knew his name. She knew his name, Isa’s name, and everyone else’s names in their class. She sat silent and observed her peers more than she interacted with them. Tana knew his personality and knew how he interacted with Isa. She knew most everyone and how they interacted with their friends.

“Nah don’t sweat it.” Lea waved a hand dismissively. “‘S long as you got it memorized now.” He smirked at her. “Hey. I kinda like that. ‘Got it memorized?’ Catchy!” He laughed. “So. Tana. Wanna tell us about yourself?”

“Not really.”

“Hey, that’s fine too! You don’t have to. Just whenever you feel like it. I’d like to get to know you better. I read one of your essays once in class to peer-review it. It was incredible. You’re so smart. I want to know more about you.”

Tana looked up from her lunch to meet his eyes. They were brilliant green. “Really?” she asked.

“Of course!”

Tana nodded. “Thanks. No one’s ever wanted to get to know me before.”

“Well I do!”

“Thank you, Lea.”

*****

“Tanalie?” Lea asked.

“Yes?” Tanlie replied. The alley was dark and silent apart from the two of them. The narrow gap between the two buildings meant they were standing very close, chests nearly touching.

“Tanalie we’ve become good friends, right?”

“Right.”

“Would it be pushing for me to say I love you?”

“I, uh... I suppose it depends. I love you as my best friend, Lea. I just...”

“I didn’t mean it in any other way!” Lea backpedalled. “I meant that I love you as a friend too! I just... I didn’t know... how you would take that...”

“Aw how touching,” a deep voice said darkly. The two teenagers jumped away from each other, hitting their backs on the walls of the buildings. “Two children looking for something that they can’t find with each other. Your hearts are steeped with darkness, both of you. Desire and longing for more and not knowing what it is. I have a solution. A new purpose for hearts like yours. Give them up. You’ll no longer feel anything. No anger. No hurt. No pain. No happiness either.”

“Thanks, but no,” Tanalie said. “We’re not interested.”

A man emerged from the darkness. He had silver hair and amber eyes. Lea pushed Tanalie behind him protectively.

“I am Xemnas, and you, young man, haven’t said anything yet. Are you interested?”

Lea stared at Xemnas. “I...”

“Lea?” Tanalie whispered.

“We’ll consider it,” Lea said. “No promises.”

“You’ll come to the right decision,” Xemnas said. He vanished into the darkness.

“Why did you say that?” Tanalie hissed.

“That’s how you walk people off. The answer is no but you say maybe to let them down gently,” Lea said.

“Oh. Okay.”

*****

“Tanalie...” Lea whispered quietly. “What if... what if this is the way?”

“It’s not,” Tana replied. “That guy---”

“Xemnas.”

“Whatever. Xemnas doesn’t have the answer. We can’t just give up our hearts!”

“Apparently we can!” Lea threw his hands in the air. At the beginning of their friendship, Tana would have winced away for fear of accidentally getting whacked in the face. Now, however, she didn’t even flinch.

She grabbed his shoulders when he dropped his hands. “No! Lea---our emotions help make us what we are. Even our pain. To live without a heart willingly... isn’t living.” She shook her head. “I’m not going to. But promise me you’ll let me know what you’re thinking, okay?”

Lea reached up and set his hands on her elbows. “Promise.”

“Got that memorized?” Tana teased.

“Hey! That’s my thing!”

She laughed.

*****

Tanalie shook her head, standing on the top of the clock tower and staring off at the sunset. Ever since Lea had become Axel she’d been on a constant mood swing between angry at him, devastated that she lost him, and determined to find a way to restore him to the way he was.

“Had a feeling I’d find you here.”

“Go away,” she spat, not turning away from the sunset.

“Well. At least that fire is better than the cold shoulder,” Axel remarked, coming to a stop beside her and looking out as well.

“Would you prefer the cold shoulder?”

“Nope.”

“Go away, Axel. I want nothing to do with you.”

“You were still my best friend, Tanalie.”

“Yeah. Keyword being ‘were.’ As in past tense. As in, you can’t feel anything, including friendship. So leave me alone or I’m going to shove you off the tower.” She knew she wouldn’t---not really---but the threat did make him pause long enough that she could shoulder past him and head for the stairs.

“Tana, wait!” Axel called, running after her. He caught her wrist. “Please.”

She whirled, ripping her arm from his grip. The setting sun caught her dark eyes and set them ablaze. “Enough! Let me be! If you were ever my true friend you would respect my wishes now and get out of my life!” With that, she whipped back around, her hair smacking him in the chest, and ran down the stairs. Axel didn’t follow her. He’d never seen her like that. She’d always been rather timid and soft-spoken.

He found he kinda liked the strength that came with that fire.

*****

I slumped. I’d been sitting with my eyes closed for ten minutes as the chain of my memories as a Somebody came back to me. “I hated you, Axel,” I said. “I hated you for being Axel instead of Lea. That fire came from being angry at you for abandoning me and our friendship. It came from heartbreak at the idea that you just threw me aside like our relationship meant nothing to you.”

“That wasn’t the case, Talinexa. Our relationship meant everything to me. I wasn’t perfect at being a good friend but I tried and I loved you.”

I stared at him for a moment, deciding what to say next. “I loved you too. Intensely. It broke me when you chose to become a Nobody.”

“It’s a decision I regret. Or... it’s a decision I would regret if I could feel,” Axel said. “Ever since I gave up my heart... I can’t stand this emptiness. Being without a heart---it’s more than I can handle. Even with you, Roxas, and Xion around... as friends... even Saïx... I can’t. The emptiness is driving me mad.”

“What are you saying, Lea? Axel?”

“I’m saying I’m done. I’m done being a Nobody. I’m done being part of the Organization. I’m done being unable to feel anything. I’m done not being able to love you.”

“Axel...” I reached out and set my hands on his. “There’s nothing we can do. We gave up our hearts to join the Organization and made a commitment to be loyal. We have no other choice. Organization Thirteen doesn’t take resignations. We either die as members, or they kill us for desertion.”

“Honestly, Talinexa, at this point, I’d chose the latter option.”

I got to my feet and summoned some fire. “Let’s talk about it later,” I said. “I do believe we have training to finish.”

Axel pushed himself to his feet. “Indeed we do.”

I woke with a gasp. A familiar face was leaning over me. But there was something different. After nine years.

“Tana! You’re alright!” Axel exclaimed.

No. Not Axel.

I sat up abruptly, smacking him in the forehead with my own. “Lea!” I exclaimed.

He pushed my stray hairs out of my face, brushing them back into my braid. “Tanalie... you’re alive!”

“So... so are you!” I shrieked, pushing my fingers into his hair. “You’re... you’re Lea again!” My thumbs brushed under his eyes. The marks that used to be there when he was Axel were gone. I gasped and pressed my forehead to his. “Lea...!”

“Tana... we’re whole again! We have hearts! We can feel!” Lea whispered. “We’re... Somebodies!”

The impulsivity of emotions swept over me. Almost a year of being a Nobody---a member of Organization XIII---with no emotions left me starved for feeling. I couldn’t imagine how much more intense that was for Lea given he’d joined the Organization nine years ago or so. I curled my fingers into Lea’s hair and pulled him toward me.

His lips crashed against mine, the same reckless abandon I felt was surging through him to me and back again.

“Lea?” I asked breathlessly when I pulled away.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“Don’t you remember? I love you too,” he said.

I smiled and nodded. “I remember.”

[women-inthe-sequel]

Scarred Hearts (Jily)

JILY CHALLENGE | @women-inthe-sequel vs @curiosity-at-its-finnest angst +  prompt: After 5 happy months together, Lily dumps James for his own safety from blood purists who were hurting him because they were together. After begging her for a reason, Lily lies and tells him, "I just don't love you anymore, James," and it hits him right in the gut. But, it hits her worse because she knows it's so far from the truth. 

read on ao3

--

Sticks and stones may break my bones, her mother always said, but words will never hurt me.

From the time Lily was young, however, she knew that words had power.

Witch, they would call her where she came from, if they knew where she went for several months a year. Freak, her sister declared when the letter came. Mudblood, a former friend sneered, revealing what everyone else already saw.

The words etch themselves in her mind, even when she outwardly assures everyone else that they don’t matter.

New rumors shouldn’t get to her, but there is something different about these ones. From across the hall, she can hear every word that is meant for or about her.

“Yeah, that’s her. It’s sick, if you ask me.”

Lily determinedly faces away from the table at the other end of the hall. She tries to look like nothing rattles her and eats breakfast, as if sordid tales about what she was doing during the last Hogsmeade visit isn’t the topic of choice this morning.

“Heard they caught Evans with her hand down a girl’s skirt.”

Jamie squeezes her hand under the table. Ordinarily, it might make her heart skip or at least get Lily to smile. Now, it feels like a weight on her chest.

“In the alley, is what I heard.”

Setting her fork down noisily, Lily moves as if she’s going to try to leave. Jamie’s hand is insistent in hers when hazel and green eyes meet. “We don’t have anything to be ashamed of,” she whispers, and Lily almost believes her.

“They’re idiots,” Sirius adds from across the table. The fact that he says it through a mouthful of toast actually makes it feel more genuine.

“Mudblood whores like her will take anything they can get!”

At this, Lily snaps to attention. The word goes through her like a bolt of lightning, charring the branch of hope Jamie’s words inspired.

She’s aware suddenly that a hand is no longer in hers.

Lily whips her head around in time to see the star Gryffindor chaser running across the Great Hall. Her dark hair is going in every direction. There’s intent clear in her eyes, her tie is half undone as always, and damn it, Lily has never seen anyone so heartbreakingly beautiful.

Even when she’s being held back by two professors, shouting threats and vowing to do a whole lot worse than a punch.

Mulciber is on the ground for a few seconds, but he comes up snarling. Professor McGonagall casts a shield between them before there can be more blood.

Lily is out of her seat and by Jamie’s side in an instant, trying to evaluate what went so horribly wrong so quickly.

“Evans,” her Head of House says, relief clear in her voice at the sight of the generally more reasonable of the two Head Girls, “please escort Miss Potter to the Hospital Wing.”

She nods, not trusting herself to speak.

The visible struggle goes out of Jamie when Lily touches her arm, but she levels another threat toward the laughing group of Slytherins by the table. “I’m not finished with you!”

“That will be enough, Miss Potter! Another ten points from Gryffindor.”

Lily tugs on her arm urgently, desperate to get away from any prying questions and curious eyes. Thankfully, Jamie knows when to follow and does so now.

The Entrance Hall is quiet compared to the commotion of the Great Hall. It feels even quieter, because, for once, Jamie doesn’t try to fill the silence with noise. Lily doesn’t try to say anything until they’re in an empty corridor and behind a tapestry, safely tucked in a spot only known to four particular mapmakers and Lily.

The light hasn’t gone from Jamie’s eyes, though it has changed. Only a few minutes ago, it was something desperate and vicious. Now, it’s the more common kind of spark, as if this morning was some grand adventure she planned from the start.

“Did you see me, Evans? Defending your honor and all that?”

“Was that what that was?” Lily counters, voice fragile.

Jamie shrugs the same way she does when she gets caught in the middle of some prank. Like the whole world is a joke and she’s the only one who gets it. Like she’ll get another detention on her record and move on, learning another way to not get caught next time.

“‘Course,” she answers. “I’m not going to let them talk about you like that. Don’t girls like it when their boyfriends defend their honor?” A brief look of confusion momentarily crosses her face, but Jamie takes a step closer to Lily, her hands finding a familiar place on her waist. “I’m not exactly your boyfriend, but I thought you’d be happy.”

“You’re bleeding, and I’m supposed to be happy?”

Jamie’s gaze drops to her hand for the first time. “This?” She holds her split knuckles up to the light. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.” Lily shakes her head, the wall behind her back keeping her in Jamie’s hold. “You punched him. You never think about what you’re doing, and it’s going to -”

Jamie cuts Lily off by pressing her lips against hers.

It’s heaven and every lovely thing in the world and how she wants to spend the rest of her life. Lily melts against her, and Jamie pulls closer so more parts of them are touching. For a few seconds, nothing else matters except never letting this feeling disappear.

When she remembers what happened at breakfast, Lily makes herself push Jamie away. Even now, she can’t make herself take her hands off her shoulders. Touching her somewhere is better than nothing.

“You can’t just kiss me and make this go away, Potter.”

“And why not?”

“We can’t. They don’t even want purebloods like you talking to people like me. If they knew -”

Jamie doesn’t let her finish. “I don’t care, Lily!” She can hear the note of anger in Jamie’s voice, and Lily doesn’t think it’s only directed at the Slytherins.

“We have to care! It’s not that easy, Jamie. Don’t you know what they’re capable of? They could hurt you, they could...”

Hands are in her hair, and she doesn’t have the energy to pull away. She doesn’t want to pull away. She wants things to be as easy as the other girl thinks they can be. She wants to hug herself close and forget about everything else.

Softly, Jamie pressed a kiss to her forehead. Lily lets herself release a sob when words don’t work and buries her face in Jamie’s neck. The arms around her don’t make everything go away, but they do make her feel better.

Slowly, she pulls away and wipes her face with the back of her hand. Jamie runs her thumb over Lily’s cheeks, brushing away tear tracks.

Before either of them can say anything else, Lily pulls Jamie down, fits her body against hers, and kisses her.

--

Although Jamie let her clean the worst of it and wrap her knuckles with a bandage, Lily wonders if it was the best thing to do. The whole school knew about the fight McGonagall stopped, so she doesn’t really see the logic in not going to Madame Pomfrey. Jamie insists, though, and Lily doesn’t have the heart to enforce something that might not matter.

One night, with their legs tangled in the covers of Lily’s bed and the curtains pulled shut to keep everyone else out, Lily adds Jamie’s arm to the list of places she seeks to memorize with her mouth. She isn’t deterred from her mission when her lips brush across Jamie’s pulse point and make her giggle.

Jamie’s hand closes abruptly, however, when Lily’s mouth makes it to the back of her hand.

“You think it’s going to scar?”

Lily drops a row of kisses across Jamie’s knuckles and nods. “Yeah. Probably.”

“Good.” Lily looks up and sees a familiar half smirk that she can draw from memory. “Reminder to everyone not to mess with my girl.”

In the moment, Lily rolls her eyes, decides to leave the memorization of her hand for another day, and presses Jamie into the mattress.

Now, she can’t stop thinking about the fact that she’s the cause of an actual scar, something permanent, something forever.

Jamie may think it’s nothing, but Lily is used to her dismissing every injury as if it’s a papercut. When she’s nearly knocked off her broom in the middle of a Quidditch match, she insists that it was only for dramatic effect. When a prank goes slightly awry and she comes back to the Common Room with a black eye, she calls it nothing more than a laugh.

For days, she carries the guilt inside of her.

To avoid it, Lily starts kissing her in increasingly dangerous places. Breaks between classes are chances to sneak away and forget about everything except Jamie’s mouth and hands. Any time that isn’t taken by schoolwork or mandatory responsibilities is spent memorizing each other. In the middle of rounds, Lily hooks her leg around Jamie’s hip and dares her to make her scream.

When they’re alone, it feels like it can be all right.

As soon as they’re back, however, she wonders if she’s making it worse. This path can lead to exactly what scares her. Rumors can become confirmed fact, and the new scar on Jamie’s hand will look like child’s play.

And what does Jamie think about Lily’s inability to keep her hands off of her?

Jamie grins crookedly at her over breakfast, and Lily almost breaks.

So, it’s her only choice. She has to end this while her heart will be the one that’s permanently broken.

She lets herself watch for a second from the edge of the room. Jamie is laughing with her friends and running a hand through her hair in that maddeningly charming way. Anyone could fall in love with her bravery, her humor, her.

For just a little while, Lily got to be that anyone.

Relying on a small dose of courage, Lily pulls Jamie aside with nothing more than a tap on her shoulder when she passes. Almost instantly, she drops the essay she’s pretending to work on and follows Lily out of the portrait hole.

Then, it’s all happening too fast because they’re in a secluded alcove that has seen far more pleasant times between them.

Jamie tries to kiss her neck, but Lily holds her hands up.

The other girl’s brow knits, and her hand rests on Lily’s hip. “All right, Evans?”

Lily forces it out before she loses her nerve.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Jamie’s face immediately falls. “What?”

“This.” She gestures between them and feels Jamie’s grip on her hip tighten. “I can’t… We can’t do this - us - anymore.” Lily makes herself hold her gaze, even though she can swear that she hears her own heart breaking in her chest.

She has to do it now. Waiting will only make it worse. Waiting is the cowardly option. Waiting will hurt her more.

“You’re breaking up with me?” Jamie’s voice sounds the way Lily would never describe her - weak.

Lily nods. “It’s better for both of us if -”

“I don’t care about any of that nonsense.” The temporary weakness in Jamie’s tone is replaced with something more common. Anger. “We’re happy. You’re happy. I know you are, Lily, so you don’t mean that.”

“I - I do mean it,” she answers quickly, unable to hide the waver in her voice.

“No, there’s some…” Jamie’s hand moves to her shoulder, urgency written across her entire body. “What did they say to you?”

“Nothing,” Lily says. “No one said anything.” Her voice already has an edge of hoarseness from swallowing back tears. This is the lie she’s practiced until she can almost fool herself. “I just don’t love you anymore.”

As quickly as the anger came, it disappears. Jamie’s hand falls from her shoulder. Her glasses slide down her nose, but she doesn't notice. She doesn’t seem to notice anything when Lily’s worst words hit their target.

Lily wraps her arms around her middle to prevent herself from reaching out to comfort the person she wants to protect from all pain. She’s the cause of it now, she knows, but this is temporary. It’s saving Jamie from future pain, from worse pain. It’s what she has to do.

Jamie will marry a nice, pureblood man and have nice, pureblood children and make her nice, pureblood mother cry tears of joy. Jamie has a whole life in front of her, and there’s no room in it for mudbloods with dirt on their knees and in their blood.

Before Jamie can see her cry, Lily slips past her and back to the Gryffindor dormitory to hide under the covers of her lonely bed.

--

Keeping to herself is the easiest solution. Lily wakes up before everyone else, pulls the curtains closed around her bed before anyone comes upstairs, and specifically avoids the gazes of four particular Gryffindors.

When she walks into Potions class, though, she isn’t prepared. Her usual chair, right next to Jamie, is open. She’s halfway there before she realizes that it was where she was headed.

Lily looks up, meeting Jamie’s eyes for the first time since she broke everything.

They aren’t filled with the light that made her pulse dance. Instead, dark circles mirror the ones that reflect back to Lily in the mirror each morning. She can only stomach it for a few seconds before she casts her eyes down and then across the room, searching for anywhere else to go.

Slowly, Lily makes her way to the back of the classroom and drops her bag by a chair. It’s the only spot that isn’t next to a Slytherin or her heartbreak. She can handle Potions without a partner better than trying to pretend that everything is okay in front of people who don’t know why it isn’t.

Sirius turns around in his chair to face her, his eyes piercing. Lily remembers when that stare was used to protect Jamie and her. She swallows and looks down at her parchment.

Once she’s seated, Lily really notices the fumes wafting from the cauldron in the front of the room. They reach her, even in the back row.

Peanut butter cups. Fresh air.

A familiar mix of fresh cut grass and faint perfume.

But no, she forces her brain to insist, despite the obvious. It’s just a breeze that sent the scent her way from the girl a few rows ahead of her. Forget that they’re in a dungeon with no windows to allow in a stray wind. She’s so used to smelling it near her and on her sheets that it’s following her. It has to be.

Professor Slughorn’s handwriting on the board, however, doesn’t lie. Amortentia.

Lily freezes. When they were sneaking into each other’s beds every other night, the scent started to linger, even when Jamie was gone. Since breaking it off, she’s pressed her face against her pillow, trying to catch any leftover trace of the other person who used to be there.

She would know it anywhere.

The only movement she registers is a dark head of hair in front of her, twisting to see the back of the room. Lily refuses to look anywhere near her eyes. She stares determinedly ahead at the board, seeing nothing and not letting her eyes drift.

As soon as Slughorn dismisses them, Lily is out of the room like a shot. She’s still stuffing a book in her bag as she walks, determined to let nothing disrupt her path.

Sitting in class is hard enough, even without Jamie’s smell surrounding her. Attending one might have taken all of her strength for the day. Maybe it won’t matter if she misses the next one. If she can make it to the girls’ bathroom on the second floor, they’ll mistake her tears for Myrtle.

A hand grabs her arm and stops her. Lily’s book hits the floor.

They’re already away from the noise of dismissed students, since she set a furious pace, but someone pushes her into an empty hallway.

Her back is against the wall and that scent is everywhere. Lily can barely think when she is so close, her hands on Lily’s shoulders and body only inches from hers.

“I know what you smelled in there,” Jamie whispers, since they’re close enough to do so.

“I don’t - I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The Quidditch Pitch. Treacle tart. You. That’s what I smelled.”

Lily shakes her head, still determined to avoid Jamie’s eyes. If she doesn’t look up, if she can just slip away… It’s hard now, and it’s going to be hard for the rest of her life, but Jamie has a chance to move on, a chance to get out before the war takes her too.

“You lied,” Jamie says, voice louder this time. “I know you love me. Like I love you, Lily. I love you.”

“Don’t,” Lily answers, feeling heat behind her eyes that she can’t stop. She isn’t in the bathroom or behind her four poster curtains. She can’t let anyone see her break, and now she’s about to break in front of the person who she needs to hide from the most.

“Don’t what? Love you? It’s too late for that, Evans.”

Fingers under Lily’s chin make her look up. It’s a command, but the touch isn’t rough. It’s still gentle, even when power is radiating from Jamie in waves. Even when she is pressed between Jamie and a wall, she doesn’t feel unsafe. Even when she knows this is one of the most dangerous places to be, her body wants to find its place against Jamie.

Lily finally meets Jamie’s eyes and a sob catches in her throat. “Someone is going to see.”

“Let them.”

“Jamie, they’ll hurt you, they’ll -”

Their foreheads touch, and Lily wishes she could see a way forward. She wants to forget about the war and slip her fingers under Jamie’s shirt. She wants how they feel about each other, how they make each other feel, to be the only things that matter.

“Then we’ll fight. Together.”

Lily shakes her head. How doesn’t she understand? How can Lily ask her to give up safety just to be with someone, just to be with her? “I can’t do that to you. I can’t make you choose.”

Jamie shrugs, the trace of a familiar smile at the corner of her mouth. “Too late, Evans.”

“It’s not a joke, Potter.”

“I’m not joking. Not about this.”

The flicker of light is back in Jamie’s eyes. It’s the way she eyes at the goal posts at the end of the Quidditch Pitch when she formulates her next play. It’s the way she looks at Lily before tackling her on the bed and making her giggle.

It’s the way Jamie makes her feel. Like anything is possible and they’re capable of fighting the world because they have the nerve to try.

“You,” Jamie says, closing the distance between them to kiss her nose, “are worth fighting for. More than worth it.”

Before she can let fear drive her again, Lily tangles her fingers in Jamie’s permanently mussed hair and rises to meet her.

[avengers-nextgen]

Prometheus XV

The others were busy preparing for bed. They’d handle the clean up tomorrow and prayed that none of the Asgardians decided to kill each other.

Piper had managed to clean up her mess from working on a new project and was lounging in bed scrolling aimlessly through her phone. Part of her wondered what the others were up to but at the same time she figured it couldn’t be too important.

Time ran into hours of unintentional time wasting until a little green notification sprung up.

Meet me outside. I have a delivery.

The vagueness of the text was all Piper needed to scramble out of bed. Having broken focus on her phone she finally heard the thrum of rain and the gentle roll of thunder. How was Gen outside during a storm like this? The girl hated the New York streets when they were full of nasty water and smelling of sewage.

Whatever it was Piper figured it had to have been important. Pulling on a jacket she slunk soundlessly down the hallway to the lift. The heavy duty elevator carried her down to the main floor.

Hardly anyone was still awake and a closed sign hung in the large glass doorway. Outside Piper saw Gen soaked to the bone bouncing up and down trying to stay warm. Mumbling a curse, the youngest Stark drew up her hood and stepped outside.

Rain hammered on the sidewalk and the gentle noise was now a roar in her ears. Droplets attacked her jacket with a vengeance and lightning overhead ignited the sky. Piper wondered if it had to do with the conversation going on upstairs.

“You were awake!” Gen smiled. A backpack was slung snugly on her back, and her jacket hood was down. She must have given up on trying to stay dry.

“You know my schedule is shit,” Piper laughed, “but that doesn’t explain why you’re out here.”

“I...uh-well I brought these.” Piper watched the other girl struggle to take off the backpack. With an amused sigh Piper helped her out of it. Gen plopped it down onto the wet pavement drawing out a clear cylinder tube. “Blueprints.”

“You could have dropped them off tomorrow morning,” Piper rolled her eyes. “These must be important. What is it? A nuclear toaster?”

“No.” Gen shook her head. “It’s all of my recent work.”

Standing up once more Gen held out the container like a peace offering. Piper arched a brow taking the cylinder and examining it carefully. It was sealed alright. No water damage. “Why do I need all of this? If it’s for projects we can just compare notes.”

“That’s the thing...” Gen awkwardly brushed her hair behind her ear, “...I can’t do anymore projects with you.”

Piper’s eyes went wide with surprise before her expression morphed into a frown, “What? Why? Is it your parents being anal about your science again?”

“No!” Gen hurriedly interrupted before Piper could ask anymore questions. “I’m going to school in Europe Piper. I got a scholarship that literally no one gets. It’s a once in a lifetime thing.”

“Still, you have time to finish these.” Piper went to hand back the cylinder but Gen tucked her hands into her pockets.

“That’s the other thing...I leave in three hours.”

“What?” Piper gaped at the other girl looking very much like a fish. “And you didn’t say anything?”

“You were busy with hero stuff. I didn’t want to burden you. Not to mention you needed my help for the mission. I couldn’t afford distracting you.” Gen explained, kicking half heartedly at a small puddle.

“Gen, I’m only a hero second to being normal Piper Stark.” Piper felt her chest deflate at the idea of Gen being all the way across the world. “You should have told me.”

“I know that. And I feel like shit.” Gen sighed, “but that’s why I’m here now. I was going to just go but-I don’t know. It didn’t seem right.”

“Yeah. I’d have been pissed. I’d have flown my ass all the way over there just to kill you.” Piper snorted, crossing her arms. “I always pegged you as a New York girl, you know.”

“I am.” Gen assured, “it’s only temporary.”

“Things are going to be weird.” Piper mumbled. “Is there no way to get you to stay?”

“I don’t know Pipes....”

“What if I hired you?”

“You have before.” Gen reminded,

“No. I mean permanently. Full time.” Piper decided.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. I decided it just now.” Piper nodded firmly, “full time. Right here and now. It’s up for grabs.”

“Piper.” Gen gave her an incredulous look but when Piper didn’t move she knew that the Stark wasn’t joking.

“You could go anywhere. No school needed. You could learn anything and everything you wanted. Make anything. Do whatever you wanted. I can fund it all too.” Piper’s eyes glinted with a childish light, “all you have to do is say yes.”

Piper watched anxiously as Gen pursed her lips getting lost in thought. She could practically see gears turning in the other girl’s head.

“Okay,” Gen replied hesitantly, “you want to hire me full time? Okay.”

Piper’s smile was the widest one she’d ever worn. She tackled Gen in a tight hug and cheered in triumph. “I knew my methods of persuasion were impeccable.”

“You give yourself a lot of credit.” Gen snorted.

— — —

“You know sitting and staring at that isn’t going to make it any better.” Alex jumped in surprise and glanced over her shoulder to find Sage leaning in the bathroom doorway with a bandaged hand.

“Yeah.” Alex nodded, turning her attention back to the bathtub. It’s warm water was most likely cold now. She’d been looking forward to washing up but then the memories came back. “What’re you doing here? I thought the storm would have driven you off to hide in Bianca’s room.”

“It’s not so bad in here,” Sage shrugged, “it’s quiet.”

“Did the family meeting go well?” Alex asked.

“Not exactly.” Sage admitted.

“You know you’re going to have to forgive them one day. The only person being hurt by your anger is yourself.”

“Hurt people, hurt people.” Sage sighed, “I know. I just can’t bring myself to do it. It’s hard.”

“That’s the point,” Alex snorted. Sage rolled her eyes and plopped down onto the ground next to Alex.

“You gonna drain the tub or still stare at it?”

“I was hoping to actual wash up.” Alex mumbled, “but I can’t- I can’t do it. I just keep picturing the water again and the burning of my lungs and the helplessness...”

“Is showering any different?”

“It’s better but still-“ Alex shook her head, “it’s hard.”

“I’d imagine.”

“You know, I didn’t have any nightmares like everyone else did. But now everyone’s fine and I can hardly sleep. When I close my eyes that stupid masked face is still there and I’m underwater again.” Alex’s hands played nervously with the hem of her shirt. “He said he’d never really go away and I thought that was stupid-“

“But as long as he exists to one person he’s not dead.” Sage concluded.

“Yeah.” Alex nodded. “Something like that.”

“Guess we both have tough things to work out.” Sage frowned.

“I guess.”

A long pause settled between them all the while the bath water grew colder. It was Sage who finally broke the silence with a question Alex never thought she’d hear.

“How do you forgive someone?”

— — —

Bianca was attempting to give Arthur a pep talk along with Enzo. The two were failing miserably.

“And if she says no then it’s okay. I mean most girls reject people but that’s alright.” Enzo assured the older boy.

“And we’re here if you want to cry about it.” Bianca promised, patting Arthur on the shoulder.

“You guys really know how to make a guy feel like crap.” Arthur shook his hands out nervously.

“Okay, I don’t normally get into business I find stupid but these idiots are idiots.” Fox glowered poking her head into the room having over heard the conversation. “Ask her out. Be honest about it. All of it. If you’re awkward just say ‘I’m sorry if I’m a bit awkward about this. I’ve never asked a girl out before. Anyways I think you’re cute and blah blah blah.’ It’s endearing rather than awkwardly stammering.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.” Arthur nodded. “Thanks.”

“You stole my job.” Enzo glowered at Fox.

“Oops.” She smirked before leaving the trio behind.

Arthur straightened his shoulders and after a few nervous breaths he headed down the hall to pause at his sister’s doorway. His knuckles tapped against the frame and Chloe opened the door a few seconds later. “Hey.”

“Hey, is Penny there?” Arthur asked, feeling his throat go dry.

“Yeah, one second.” Chloe stepped aside and collected the other girl from her bed where she’d been attempting to teach Chloe Smash Bros.

“Hey Arthur, what’s up?” Penny grinned setting the controller aside. “Dude your sister is actually really good at this game. It’s freaking crazy! She’s already memorized the combos! I don’t understand!”

“That’s great!” Arthur laughed. “Hey I was wondering something and you don’t have to answer right away. I also don’t want you to feel pressured into a response. But would you maybe like to go out sometime? Like to lunch or something? It can be a date or a hang out or whatever you want. I just haven’t really asked anyone like you to hang out before.”

Arthur held his breath in anticipation and watched as Penny pursed her lips. “That depends on where we’re going. Does the place have bacon?”

“It can!” Arthur replied hurriedly.

“Then I’m sold.” Penny smiled. “Also ice cream is good too. Unless you’re lactose intolerant. Then you can forget about the ice cream.”

“You’re rambling Pen.” Chloe called from deeper inside the room. “Focus.”

“Right. Yes. Lunch is good.” Penny decided.

“Great. Twelve tomorrow?” Arthur asked, feeling like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

“Twelve tomorrow.” Penny agreed.

— — —

“You just did a nice thing.” James grinned.

“Shut up.”

“You just helped Arthur get a date.”

“Not a word.” For huffed.

“I am proud.” James sighed, mirroring his mother’s look of pride.

“I will castrate you.” Fox’s threat seemed to do the trick and James stopped talking. “That��s what I thought.”

“I knew you were a good person.”

“Okay mister you have three seconds to run and hide.” James took off laughing like a maniac before Fox could finish her threat. He’d learned all of the best hiding spots from Scout. The boy found the craziest places to read.

— — —

“Listen to this one.” Orion suggested passing over the head phones. He was trying to create a Playlist for his boyfriend. One that was soothing and relaxing since he worried so much. “Like it? Thumbs up or down?”

“Like it.” Scout decided. Orion nodded and added it to the label ‘Scouty’s’.

“Next one.”

The two went back and forth for nearly an hour until Orion was satisfied with the list.

“How’s it look?”

“Great.” Orion smiled, scooting over on his bed to show Scout his phone screen. “Now you can favorite ones you like and unfavorite them when you get bored. You can also add other songs to the playlist and this is where the software recommends other choices you might like based off of what you listen to.”

“I’ve never thought about doing this. It’s really cool. But are you sure you won’t mind if I have your phone on me most of the time?” Scout worried. “I know you like your own music.”

“I go old school babe.” Orion reminded him. “I have my cassette player. As long as I have that I’m all set. And you of course.”

“Suck up.” Scout teased, but he didn’t mind. Orion really was better than most of his books. Not all of them but most of them. He was certainly entertaining and more loveable than any of the characters. “But at least you’re a cute suck up.”

[still-with-hearts-beating]

lover, come back to me (jane/kurt fanfic + #bspromptchallenge)

project: @blindspothiatusproject 30 day gif/fanfic prompt challenge

day 16. undercover

rating: slight M

 A/N: title from City and Colour

 lover, come back to me

 She sat on the counter in their bathroom with her legs crossed, wrapped in one of his shirts, as she watched him move back and forth between their bedroom and the bathroom.

 He was packing, collecting various items as he saw them, tossing them into the bag at the foot of their bed.

 She couldn’t stop touching him as he moved around.

Brushing her fingers against his arm as he walked past her.

 Reaching up to run her fingers through his hair as he leaned over to grab his deodorant.

 Hooking her fingers through his belt loops and pulling him closer as he reached around her for his aftershave.

 He leaned forward and brushed his lips against her forehead before turning to go back towards their bedroom but she pulled him back.

 She wrapped her arms around his neck and uncrossed her legs, wrapping them around his waist and pulled him as close to her as she possibly could, burying her face in his shoulder, breathing him in.

 He wrapped his arms around her waist and held on to her, pressing another kiss against the side of her head.

 “Promise me you’ll come back,” she whispered in his ear. “Promise me.”

 It wasn’t the first time she’d asked him to make that promise in the past two days. More like the hundredth.

 And he’d made it every time.

 He pulled back slightly so he could look her in the eye and brought his hands up to her face. Leaning forward, he brushed his lips against hers, soft and slow, letting them linger before he pulled away.

 “I promise,” he said, opening his eyes to meet hers as she sat back on the counter, crossing her legs again. “I’m coming back,” he whispered.

 She nodded and took a deep breath, blinking back the tears she felt pricking at the back of her eyes.

 “Besides,” he said, reaching for her left hand and holding it between them. “I put this nice ring on your finger. I have to come back to make good on it.”

 “You better,” she whispered, leaning in and resting her forehead against his. “Maybe we should get married before—“

 “I’m coming back,” he interrupted her, shaking his head. “I’m coming back and we’re going to get married.”

 She tried to let the certainty in his voice dull the ache in her chest. They both knew that he might not come back. This was the most dangerous mission he had ever gone on. That he would ever go on.

 Deep cover. No back up. No handler. No check in. No communication. No timeline.

 It had first come up two days ago. Activity from number two on the FBI’s Most Wanted list after years of nothing. It was a phone conversation that one of their surveillance programs had picked up and it was with someone Kurt had an in with through an old cover identity of his, from an undercover mission years earlier. The cover was still good, Patterson had confirmed.

 He’d wanted to say no. He almost did. But they couldn’t let this opportunity go by. This could be their only chance to get him.

 So, the next morning, he would be leaving and neither of them knew for how long.

 “You said yes when I got down on one knee, you’re not getting out of it now,” he said with a slight chuckle, glancing up at her. But she didn’t laugh, instead shaking her head and resting her hands against his ribs.

 “Don’t joke about that,” she said quietly, moving her head to his shoulder.

 “I’m sorry,” he whispered, wrapping his hands back around her waist. “Will you promise me something?” he asked quietly.

 “Anything,” she answered immediately.

 He leaned back again, taking her hands in his and holding them against his chest.

 “Try not to worry the whole time,” he said. She let out a half-laugh, half-sob as her shoulders slouched forward, the weight of his request almost too much for her to bear.

 “I know, I know,” he said, moving one of his hands to her chin and tilting her head up towards him.

 He knew her fear wasn’t about his skill or his ability to succeed. He was afraid, too, he could admit. And he knew that the part that made it so much worse for her was that she couldn’t do anything to protect him.

 He didn’t think he could do what she was doing right now. In fact, he knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t watch her leave, going towards this kind of danger, without knowing when or if she would come back. Without being able to protect her.

 But she was stronger than him. He’d always known that.

 “Try, for me,” he asked, brushing his thumb across her cheek. “Think of good things. Happy things. I want you to make plans for our life,” he said, smiling as he thought of it.

 She returned his smile, though he could see her choking up, her tears threatening to fall. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers again.

 “While I’m gone, I want to think of you planning our life together. Planning our wedding, choosing things for our house. Buying surfboards,” he said with a grin and she finally laughed.

 That was the other thing they had settled on when they decided together that he would go. That this would be the last mission either of them went on for the FBI.

 They had already turned in their resignations. Kurt’s would go into effect when he returned home.

 This life had caught up to them. Too many mornings when they wondered if they would both return home that night. Too many nights spent at the office or in the field. Too many goodbyes like this one where they’d wondered if the other one would return.

 So, he would go on this one last mission. One last contribution to the Bureau. To his country. And then that would be it.

 They would move to California and never look back. Buy a house on the beach, surf during the day, make love at night. Eat tacos and drink beer and watch the sun rise and the sun set. And hold on to each other forever.

 Jane wanted to grab him and get in a cab and go to the airport right at that moment. But she knew they couldn’t.

 She nodded and pressed her hand against his heart, looking at the engagement ring that he’d given her a few weeks earlier.

 “While I’m gone, I’m going to be thinking of you and of the incredible life that we’re going to have together,” he said, bringing his hand up to cover hers. “And I want you to do the same. I don’t want to think about you being worried or sad...or scared,” he whispered.

 She nodded again, letting a few tears slip from her eyes onto her cheeks. She could do this for him.

 “OK,” she whispered, reaching up to wipe them away. “I promise,” she said, giving him a small smile as she looked up at him through her tears.

 He leaned down, pressing his lips to hers again, holding her against him. He kissed her for a long time, pulling her close as she uncrossed her legs and hooked them around his waist again, closing any gap between them as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

 He picked her up and carried her to their bed, his lips never leaving hers as he covered her with his body.

 They kissed and touched every inch of each other, taking their time, memorizing every moment, every touch, every kiss. And as she lay back against their pillows, pulling him down on top of her, gasping in his ear as he moved inside of her, she held onto him even tighter, digging her fingers into his shoulder blades as if somehow it could keep him there with her.

 “Look at me,” she whispered, pulling her head back from his shoulder, her hands moving to his ribs and pushing him back ever so slightly. “Look at me, baby.”

 He forced himself to open his eyes as his hips slowed and she brought her hands up to his face, running her fingertips across his cheeks.

 “I want you to remember this,” she whispered, holding his gaze as both their eyes filled with tears. “I want you to remember this moment. That I’m yours, forever,” she leaned in, pressing her lips to his.

 He nodded, swallowing back his own tears as he leaned in and kissed her again, before pulling back, keeping his eyes locked with hers as they started moving together again.

 “Keep me with you,” she whispered as her breathing picked up and he dug his fingers into her hips as they both got close, feeling the desperation in each other. “Remember this. Remember me.”

 He nodded, leaning in and brushing his lips against hers, against her cheeks, against her neck as she whispered those words to him over and over as their bodies moved together.

 They both tried to hold off as long as they could, wanting this moment to go on forever. Because as long as they were in this moment, they were together. He was safe. He was with her. He was home.

 But eventually they reached the point where they could not wait anymore and she leaned up and whispered in his ear, “let go,” digging her fingers into his ribs.

 She moaned into his mouth as they tumbled over the edge together, holding on to each other as they found their release. She wrapped her arms around his back as their movements slowed, brushing her lips against his shoulder and his neck .

 “Relax,” she whispered in his ear, smiling as she felt his weight press her into the mattress as his lips rested against her neck.

 She closed her eyes, trying to memorize this feeling, her favorite feeling. Right after they’d made love, when he was still inside her, but also all around her. She breathed him in, taking in the feeling of his lips and his beard against her neck, his arms around her waist, his heartbeat against hers.

 After a while, he lifted his head slightly and pressed his lips to hers, slowly, tenderly.

 “I’m coming back,” he whispered against her lips and she nodded, wrapping her arms tighter around his back.

 She was about to speak, about to ask him again. But she didn’t have to this time.

 “I promise.”

[hotcoffeeandbreakfast]

My limited library of words seems dismally insufficient when I think about describing the most love-filled week of my life, but the details below are my best attempt at painting the picture for you, and for me. And most importantly, him.

Two weeks ago, at this very time (5:46am) my husband and I were fast asleep yet somehow alive and well in a daydream state. In just a few short hours, I would wake up and leave Neil sleeping so I could chop off roughly 6-7 inches of hair, pack up all the small details of my jaw-dropping wedding wardrobe, and hug my dearest friends goodbye as Mrs. Patel.

I can’t believe it’s been two weeks! Have I been floating this entire time? Probably so.

When Neil and I first got engaged, we talked about eloping. We talked about planning a “half and half” ceremony, though we weren’t sure what that was supposed to look like or mean. We talked forever about where we would host whatever we were hosting. I knew he wasn’t down for the traditional five days, and he knew I wasn’t interested in the big white dress and long, dramatic walk down the aisle. Our options were endless but we both wanted just one thing out of the whole event: to spend forever with each other. With that in mind, we knew the details would eventually sort themselves out. Y’all, everything I thought would be clever and romantic enough to describe this momentous, magical day (week) seems to pale the lustrous paint due to limitation of words.

My interest — now obvious fascination — with the East and all of its ancient traditions is completely pouring out and over the rim of my cup. Of course, it started years ago with my yoga practice and being ever curious about proper thought during meditation, but now it is this whole other thing, a wave of deep devotion to exploring and satisfying this inquiring mind. When I met Neil, I never knew what would blossom in my brain as far as being drawn to culture and practice. During the year between our engagement and wedding, I absorbed as much as I could about the different ceremonies we’d chosen; the ones most important in Gujarat. I read and researched for months what I could online about “multicultural” weddings, searching endlessly for descriptions about what each small ceremony or ritual would entail, looking for answers for what is normally expected of the bride, and lastly, TRYING TO LEARN GUJARATI. Nothing I could Google or Bing or Yahoo or memorize would ever prepare me emotionally and mentally for being the semi-center of these gorgeous events. Everything, and I mean every tiny minutia is met with respect and holds meaning in the Hindu faith and Gujarati culture.

Our first event of the week — aside from Wednesday’s Monsoon themed nail party (that’s totally a joke, however bad the rain really was) — was Thursday morning’s pooja (puja) to bless the Patel house. All immediate family members and a few close friends showed up, and I was simply excited to be there to watch…I had no idea I would end up participating and leave feeling like I too had received all kinds of blessings. The priest and priestess arrived and began setting up the altar. My partner in crime, Ashley Treib, and I watched in white girl amazement as small details of a religion completely new to us unfolded. I took note of the items used during the pooja: fresh food and fruit, various types of rice, petals plucked from fresh flowers, water, and fire. As I was taking this mental inventory, Daksha, my mother-in-law, called me over and asked if I’d like to participate. I blushed and shook my head yes. “Krishna will have to sit between you and Neil since you aren’t married yet,” she said with a smirk, which pinked my cheeks even deeper.

We are getting married!!!  was my only thought as a smile spread across my whole body.

The priest started the ceremony and read and chanted and Neil, Krishna, and I became a unit: Krishna holding on to Neil’s right arm, me holding on to Krishna’s. OMG I AM CRYING AS I WRITE THIS! Daksha was sitting next to me, and every now and then, she would hold on to me, making our line even longer. I was feeling the beat of this ceremony, even though there really wasn’t a specific tempo. At any given time, I could hear the priest, overlapped by the interpretation from the priestess — a huge courtesy for me — mixed with the gentle clanking of pans in the kitchen and soft, Guju chatter. This ceremony was nothing new for most of the family so they were either eating or napping, aside from the handful that sat around the living room in a half circle. I noticed this briefly and it made me smile, but only on the inside; my nerves held my face. I was completely glued-in the entire two hours of rituals, fascinated by what I’d never seen before. I could feel Ashley sitting right behind me, drinking it all up too. I’d never seen ritual performed on a level like this, and I’ve experienced some religion in my days.

I can’t compare what I observed in those two hours to anything else. There was demonstration and explanation and time for honoring all; there was pranayama. It felt old and new, the way an worn wooden pew bench does when I come across one and take a seat. I shifted from side to side, like I did in church when I was young; full of questions and observation, but required to remain quiet and search for the answers in my head.

We read aloud and took small bites and prayed by offering bits of rice and petals; to my surprise I even recognized some Sanskrit words here and there. The pooja concluded and I felt another remarkable wave of peace wash over me. As a person who once loved religion for ritual and reverence, this kind of honoring of tradition stirred me up inside.

A delicious evening of live dosa making followed a few hours later, where we drifted in to a hot August night and woke up to a cool, wedding weekend.

      My adrenaline the week of the wedding was insane, I felt like I was on fire;  Thursday’s pooja fanned my flame, maybe blazed it. I wasn’t hungry, I was mostly decaffeinated, and I couldn’t really tell if I was sleeping or just floating through the nights between the hours of 11 p.m. and 6 a.m. But I was awake, so woke I couldn’t even buzz myself to sleep with wine. Friday morning, I woke up before the world and laid around until I couldn’t any longer. I pushed my floating body in the shower at 8am, waking Ashley and Alex with uncoordinated noise, and chatted up the shower-head about the hours that would follow. Picking up friends and family from the airport, steaming all my clothes for various events, receiving the first part of my mehndi….I was on the “bridal climb” and trying my best not to totally. freak. out!

  In preparation for a week of meeting family, prepping last minute things to pack in my teeny carry-on (an activity I eventually did so many times at 2am on Monday, I started timing myself) and being consumed with all kinds of emotions, I got in about five-ish hours of yoga. Teaching some, moving around at home, taking class; I made it my mission to be able to locate my zen on the spot if I needed to. I stuck to my Veg30 diet to keep my mind and body clean and I made myself as busy as possible. Again…as much preparation as my little Capricorn heart, body, and soul could muster was indeed not enough to properly assemble my brain for becoming Mrs. Patel. My thought for most of the weekend, aside from reminding myself not to lock out my knees, was, “in through the nose, out through the nose.” I literally had to remind myself to breathe. I am unimaginably empathetic, so I sponged up everyone else’s emotions too; absorbing that much love can make you feel a kind of high I wasn’t aware existed. Breathe, breathe, breathe.

My amazing henna artist/ family friend/ hair-growing-goddess, Felicia, arrived around noon on Friday to get a jump on the first part of my mehndi, so I could at very least walk around and greet everyone that had traveled for us from everywhere. It was then, upon Felicia’s arrival, that I — I’ll admit, forcefully — entered my official state of what everyone has since referred to as, “tempered.” I’m not kidding when I say that every person that saw me during the wedding for more than 4 minutes made it a point to tell me how relaxed I seemed…to which I endlessly laughed, internally. She started with my feet and worked her way up to my right forearm, not missing a beat even when I’d shift around or twitch. In through the nose, out through the nose. She finished up after about three hours and headed out to get herself ready for a second night of fun. My feet were mostly dry, but my arm still needed a solid twenty before I could move around and start primping too; all my other limbs would be finished at the ceremony so everyone could check out the process in real life. If I could hold them up. My nerves were…all present, lets just say.

    I felt anything but normal when I saw him. All weekend long he was the most regal thing I’ve ever laid eyes on; a glowing, gold aura beamed off of him constantly.

  I’d been hugging and meeting family when he walked in and I vaguely remember confetti falling around us as we met/ ran / floated somewhere in the middle (? maybe??) of the room, before I randomly sat down to be hand fed and henna-ed. I swear I’m not making this up, it happened! REALLY!!! 

  All night long, I sat lounging on this beautiful, golden chaise and watched my family meet Neil’s family. All of our friends from all over started finding each other and introducing themselves…and I got to see it. I looked up once and saw all of the aunties doing henna on my friends and on each other. I watched everyone laugh together and turn up!! and eventually hit the dance floor together. It was so beautiful and I was nearly in shock from it all, bright light beaming from my eyeballs, no doubt. At one point, my sweet little sister comes up to me, pops a spring roll in to my mouth and whispers in my ear, “are you on drugs or something? You look…euphoric. Your eyes are the size of the moon.” She was 100% right. I was totally, naturally in euphoria, which was currently oozing from every inch of the interior of the room.Well, wasn’t it?  To be completely honest, there was a split second where I was presented with two choices: freak out and be nervous the whole night or just relax and embrace and observe, so that’s what I did. I spent the entire night panning the room, glued to my chair from the wildness of the thought that this was all for us.

Did I, at one point, end up in the bathroom alone and holler out? Yes, of course I did. Only to get out some wild, happy, loud energy. I still feel the joyful, overwhelming happy vibes of that night; I’m living off the entire weekend, but I had never, until that night, ever felt so much magic in one place.

And then I heard the words “party bus,” from three moustached, unbuttoned, feisty firemen (or maybe some cousins?), and I knew the night was about to take an interesting turn. Neil, along with all the fire guys from NOLA, fam from Philly, Boston, Dallas, and who knows where else, piled on to a bus that would take them far in to the morning of our wedding. I slipped out of my mehndi dress and in to a blue silk dress from my little Blayre, and entertained my friends with a gin-induced Lil Wayne rap battle…with myself. I Ubered Ashley, Michael, and me (did that work like I wanted it to?) back to the hotel by midnight and forced myself to sleep, an attempt to be as fresh as possible for the best day of my life. I think my mind finally turned off around 2am, but who can really say?

I “woke up” at 7am on the nose, to a text from my sister-in-law saying she broke her foot on said party bus.

And to the forecast of rain.

And to a very hungry belly that was lightly lined with alcohol and crackers.

But that didn’t keep me in bed and certainly didn’t stop the ear-to-ear smile from practically ripping my face open, eyes and all, the morning of my wedding. I flung the curtains open (more like slowly unzipped them) and apologized for waking the room and informed them about Krishna and said that it was time to get it in gear and where the hell is the coffee??!!! I was awake and so ready to become Mrs. Patel.

Neil’s vidhi was first up on this gorgeous Saturday, perpetual inner sunshine totally dousing the dreariness of the cool August day. This ceremony is typically done at both homes of  the bride and groom, separately, where they are blessed by the priest, their parents, all of their uncles and aunts, and treated to haldi by female cousins, which are lovingly referred to as sisters. The haldi is a handmade paste that is rubbed on the face to make the skin glow. (It smelled amazing from where I ended up sitting) I couldn’t wait to watch this!  How can they possibly make Neil’s face glow any more than it already does?! It is mildly infuriating at times how beautiful my husband is, but his smile truly looks like a glowing, endless sunset, so I tolerate the his annoying wonderful charm and dashing, sassy good looks. (life is hard)

Many more family members and friends had arrived after the mehndi, so I was nervous, yet excited, to meet more people. The squad was impressively dressed and at the hall before most, so I had time to cool my head and find some excitement in the presence of the moment. I felt a tad over zealous by showing ups so early, but was more than anything ready to see my future husband for the first time on wedding day.

I sat quietly as my masi pinned a bhindi to my head just before the vidhi started. Looking down at the color of my henna, I couldn’t help but smile as I heard Baa’s words from mehndi night in my ear: “Beta, dark color means deep love.” She’d said this with a knowing smile I was beyond grateful to see; marrying in to a strong Gujarati family means honoring the strong family ties between the generations. I thank universe daily they everyone had such an open mind and heart when they were presented with the idea of adding a different culture to their family.

  I looked at my hands and studied their color further, deep red; remnants of the paste still clung to my skin. Choosing to focus on my patterned hands other than my nerves seemed to steady me, though I felt like I could see the red hue deepen with each step I took, almost psychedelic and moving. The color seemed to brighten with every hug and touch and there were moments when I thought the design would climb right up my arms and legs. My skin transformed before my own eyes.

I saw actual stars when I finally got to see Neil. We found each other in the open hall way, before anyone saw us, and exchanged a real hug. I was awash with comfort and my nerves steadied instantly though tears welled up in my eyes.

I thought for sure when Neil touched me the henna would magically remain unfading.

  The vidhi came and went quickly, and the afternoon before the wedding and reception went by just the same. I felt like a total maniac all afternoon, completely devoid of any and all chill.

While my moms and sister had their hair and makeup done, my body decided to respond to the sense of overwhelming love by mixing that up real good with the tiny bit of the caffeine I had, and all of the excitement I felt about the wedding. I have NEVER felt so out-of-body. I did everything I could possibly think of to calm my nerves, find my zen without addressing to the crowd that every atom in my body was floating apart. My years-long friend, hair guru, and mom to the dumplin’ I looked after for a while and still just adore to pieces, was finishing up with Mrs. Daksha when some sort of crazy, unbreathable vibe took me over. I sat down, then stood up and turned in a circle and just stopped and stared at all the makeup on the bed. I couldn’t really breathe and didn’t want to admit it.

At this point, I had: laid flat, stood on my head, peed about a dozen times, drank half a gallon of water, nibbled on some pouris, blasted chill, lo-fi beats, drank coffee….I tried it all to keep myself calm. And then, I felt the whole of my body turn in to jello. “Can I take a hot shower? Like RIGHT now?” I addressed this plea to Rhianna while attempting to remain cool. She gave me the most sincere “OH FCK” look and said, “Ummm sure yesokaylove, can we cover it?” responding to my paling skin and perfectly pre-curled hair. “Mmmmm,” was the only response I could muster. I vaguely remember Michael leaving the room, but moments later he rushes to the rescue by providing not two but four shower caps and I was in the shower locating Ujjayi in no time.

Another conversation with the shower head.

When I came out in my long whatever it was I was wearing, I felt collected, and it was my turn to sit in the chair.

It only felt like a few minutes, but I know it was longer. I let the air come in and out of my nose, and only spoke a few times; I can’t for the life of me recall what the last two hours before the wedding was like. All I  knew  in that moment was that my future was about to begin.

  I floated down that aisle, y’all. My mom was floating; I could feel her smiling and that made my heart visible from chest, I just know it did. I feel as though I hovered above the ground during the ceremony and never felt the smile leave my face. I wonder if anyone noticed my feet leave the floor? There are moments that friends have captured that just melt my heart, and there’s so much I could share, but not every detail is meant for the world. If I could put the entire night in a box and keep it forever, I would.

I listened so intently as the priest spoke, yet was busy panning the room with my eyes, in deep observation, memorizing the faces in front of me. I remember squeezing Neil’s hand with every we promise made, and my hand shaking to sign my name, for the first time, as “tj patel.” Always lowercase, with absolutely no explanation.

  Our wedding night whirled on, to the beat of bhangra, bollywood, and everything else under an indoor, evening sun.  A blend of family and friends shared their talents, their words, and most importantly their time with us this night. It all stands out so clearly in my mind, every last little jewel of it. I continuously scanned the room so many times that night just to drink in the amount of people that made the time to celebrate the happiest night of our lives. I could hardly speak at certain points, truly unable to find the gratitude I felt in every inch of my body. I still feel it all.

  It was a starry night indeed, a thick blanket of memories suspended in the sky, for always.

  Neil, I hope every day of our life is filled with memories and tales that take from sunrise to sunset to tell. Thank you for giving me your family, for giving me this day and everything that it represented. Thank you for the love I feel from you every day and the immense joy I have; you are solely responsible for helping me create that daily in my life. To the brightest light in my life, I will always treasure every single moment of this remarkable, sparkling, unforgettable moment. I love you.

  We have so many people to thank and we love you each so so much we are bursting.

            mrs. patel: part 1, the wedding My limited library of words seems dismally insufficient when I think about describing the most love-filled week of my life, but the details below are my best attempt at painting the picture for you, and for me.