#and now real life throws a lot of curve balls and responsibilities at me so

[seyaryminamoto]

Hey, I just wanted to ask if you have abandoned the fic: How they all Reacted. It seemed to have ended with a massive cliffhanger, and you've also teased the next chapters, despite them not being there. Is the Reason-Origin of Pro Bending AU abandoned?

I don't like thinking I've abandoned fics, it's very sad to think of it that way... but the truth is I have been a liiiittle too distant from that timeline and the likelihood that I'll return to it shrinks more and more every day. It's unfortunate, I know... it was a pretty sweet, dorky fic, but I won't make promises I won't keep. I can give you a rundown of what I wanted to do in the remaining chapters I meant to write for it, if that'd help, but it's still nice to know that someone's still interested in that fic timeline. I really don't know if I'd be able to get back into the mindset for it to write the chapters properly, but thanks for asking nonetheless <3

[cheekysos]

Between Hate And Lust Part Three

Ashton Irwin x Plus Size Reader

Author’s Note: I think this will be the last part but if you guys feel differently and have any ideas please feel free to share.I think I might have gotten a little carried away but I still kind of like it. Let me know what you think. As I always say  I’m not writing this series to exclude any body type, shape, or size because everyone’s bodies should be accepted and celebrated. So I am very sorry if this in any way excludes anyone, that is not my intention. If there’s anything you’d like to read please leave a request in my asks and I will try my best to do it justice. If you have any feedback or ideas for part three please let me know. Also I know the picture doesn’t really go but I love it and I couldn’t find anything else   

Summary: Y/N is forced to interact with her ex and Ashton comes to her rescue.

Warnings: Brief mentions of alcohol and cigarettes, violence, swearing, and smut 

Y/N’s POV

That voice instantly made you sick to your stomach. You knew he was invited  but you were hoping for your sake and everyone else’s that he wouldn’t show. You were pretty sure he was drunk already, his cheeks were flushed and his eyes were glossed over. He pushed off the wall and stumbled closer to you, the overpowering smell of alcohol confirming your suspicions.

“ ‘cha get all dressed up just for me?” he slurred. 

“It’s a wedding,” you retorted, stepping back from him. 

“You still mad at me? I told ya it was a mistake.” he flicked the butt of his cigarette aside. 

“I really don’t want to get into this with you,” you let out. “Can we just go back to forgetting each other’s existence and call it a night?”

He scuffed dramatically. “You couldn’t forget this even if you wanted to,” he crudely grabbed at his crotch. “Look like you haven’t had a proper fuck in a while...” 

“You’re right...been about two years.” You figured he was too drunk to catch on to your implication about your guys’ sex life but he caught on. 

“Look, I fucked you the best I could considering all the extras I had to work around.” he motioned towards your figure. 

As much as you wanted to fight back you knew now wasn’t the best time; outside your best friend’s wedding, all by yourself with your ex drunk off his ass so you started to walk away from him. His empty hand immediately reaching out for your wrist and holding on tight. 

You looked up at him with pleading eyes, “Please let go. Now is not the time.” 

Ashton’s POV

Your cover song was hit, countless people stopping you as you walked off stage. You tried to be as polite as possible, but the truth was you really didn’t care what they were saying. You saw her reaction as you played the song, you watched her hurry outside and all you wanted to do was make sure she was okay. 

You walked out the door and found her almost instantly. Your blood started to boil, a guy stood there in front of her with his hand wrapped tightly around her wrist. It most likely wasn’t your place to get involved but you didn’t care, you needed to make sure she was safe.

“Y/N,” you called out. “Everything ok?”

Y/N used the distraction to pull away from the man. Your heart aches when she looked at you with puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks.

“Um ya,” her voice was shaky and she rubbed at her wrist. “I was just...”

The guy stood in front of her stepping closer to you.

“Fuck off. It’s none of your business,” he slurred.

You were heated. “You made it my business when you put your hands on her mate. So why don’t you fuck off, let’s go Y/N.” You stepped to the side and reached out for her. She looked at your with a meek smile, just about to grab your hand when hands collided with your chest. You stumbled back a few steps. It took everything in you to not retaliate. You wanted nothing more than to lay him out on the ground right now, which you were fairly certain you could do with just one punch. This time Y/N stepped towards you and placed her hand on your balled up fist.

“It’s not worth it. Please let’s go.” You unclenched your fist and tangled your fingers in hers. Her hand was soft and inviting and you were positive you’d hold it forever if she let you.

Y/N’s POV

You never thought you’d be so happy to see Ashton. You were grateful that he followed you outside. You were desperate to remove yourself and Ashton from that situation before things got any worse. For a split second you forgot about everything while you looked down at your hand intertwined with his, for a split second things were nice.

“She wasn’t the first ya know!” Your ex yelled back at you as you walked away with Ashton. His words stung more than you care to admit but you tried to ignore him and he wasn’t happy about it.

“There were six! And you better get used to gettin’ cheated on when you look like that, fuckin’ cow!” he yelled.

Before you could even process what was happening Ashton’s hand was pulled from your grip and swinging at your ex. His fist connected with his jaw and he was down.

 “Don’t ever talk to her again,” Ashton snapped.

He was either too drunk to care or too scared to hit him back because he just sat on the ground spitting out blood.

You looked at Ashton, “what the hell?!” you questioned.

From the look on his face he wasn’t happy with your reaction. “Seriously? Nothings ever good enough for you!” He raised his voice. “First you’re mad at me for not standing up for you and now I stand up for you and you’re mad at me? Fuck this.” He huffed past you, walking in the direction of the parking lot. 

Ashton’s POV

You really tried to keep your cool, but the second he opened his mouth again you lost it. You weren’t expecting Y/N to just fall into your arms and instantly forgive you but you definitely didn’t expect her to be upset with you. You were just trying to do what you thought was right and at that moment when you heard him say those words, punching him in the face seemed right. Granted it probably wasn’t the best choice but it’s what he deserved.

You hated raising your voice at Y/N, but you were upset. This back and forth with her was getting to be too much. You started to storm off to your car. 

“Ashton will you just stop!” she huffed. You stopped dead in your tracks, Y/N practically running into you. 

“Why? So you can yell at me some more.” You stepped towards her, the space between you two was practically none existent. You could tell Y/N was caught off guard, she bit her bottom lip nervously and it drove you crazy. 

“I don’t get you Y/N,” you chuckled. “One second you seem like you’re ready to forgive me and then the next second you’re ready to rip my throat out.” 

“Because that’s how I feel! You drive me crazy! I know I should hate you, I really want to...but you’re.. fuck! I dont know.” This time she was raising her voice at you. You could tell she was having the same struggle you were so you decided to throw caution to the wind and go for it. 

“You do know. You’re just scared. Tell me what you want.” You looked her up and down and licked your lips. 

Y/N’s POV

God he was infuriating. “You think I’m scared of you?” you laughed. 

“No I think you’re scared of what you want.” You were a little taken back by his sudden confidence but you decided to play along. 

“Oh really? And what is it that I want?” You held your breath while you waiting for his response. 

“I think you want me...want me to push you up against this strangers car and show you how a real man should treat ya.” His words hit you like a ton of bricks. He was right, you were feeling so many different emotions right then but all you could think about was Ashton. If he was going to play this game then so were you.

“Then what are you waiting for?” you teased. 

Ashton was on you instantly, his toned body pressed against yours and massive hands cupping your face. His kiss was better than you could have ever imagined. His lips were soft and sweet, eager but not rushed. Your lips parted, half because you were in shock that this was actually happening and half because you craved to taste him. His tongue slipped into your mouth and danced along yours. He pushed the two of you back against a car, his leg pushed your knees apart to make room for his leg to rest between yours. His thigh providing you with much needed friction. 

“Bet you’re so wet for me.”  he whispered in your ear. The moan he elicited from you was almost embarrassing.  Your desire took over, you couldn’t waste anymore time being shy and self conscious. It was obvious Ashton wanted this as much as you did so for once you let go. 

Ashton’s POV

You were certain she’d be the death of you by the end of the night. The sounds she made went straight to your cock. You were already so hard and you had barely even touched her, who knows how you were going to last once you did. You couldn’t get enough of the of her body. The way it felt pressed up against you, the way she responded to your touch. You kissed every inch of her exposed skin- her cheeks, down the length of her neck,  and all over her clavicle.

“You teasin’ me on purpose?” she moaned. 

“Maybe a little,” you laughed. 

“Please do something, drivin’ me crazy.” she rocked against your knee, begging for more. 

“Since you asked so nicely...” You kept eye contact with her as your fingers trailed down her body, outlining her every curve. You kissed her softly as you got to the hem of her dress. In a swift motion you pushed up her dress and into her soaked panties. 

“Fuuuck...” she gasped so loud you instinctively covered her mouth with your free hand. You started to rub circles around her clit. 

“Gotta keep quiet doll. We are in a parking lot ‘member?” Y/N nodded eagerly. 

You decided you both had had enough teasing for now so you slipped your index finger inside of her. She was so tight and warm, just thinking about being inside her made your dick twitch in your trousers. 

“So tight and wet for me. Ya feel fuckin’ amazing.” You spoke against her lips. 

You started off with a steady pace, pumping in and out of her while your thumb traced over her clit. She tangled her fingers in your hair, pulling on your locks as her climax built up inside her and her other hand started to palm your prominent erection. You were needy for her touch, but you were determined to make this about her right now, to make her feel good. 

“Need more please... Ash,” she begged. 

“You’re such a good girl for me..so needy.” You added an extra finger inside her and increased the pressure on her clit. It must have felt good because you could feel her legs start to shake. She grabbed on to the wrist of your hand that was down her panties, encouraging you to not let up. 

“C’mon doll. Want to see you cum for me. Let me feel ya.” She nodded at your words.

Watching her cum on around you fingers was unlike anything you had experienced. You had made your share of women cum before but none of them looked like Y/N. Her face was so expressive, her body writhed with pleasure and her sounds alone were enough to make you cum.

“Fucking shit Ash,” she panted when you removed your fingers and brought them up to your mouth. 

You licked her orgasm off your fingers, releasing them with a ‘pop’. “Knew it. Taste amazing.”

She caught her breath, “Let’s see how you taste...” She stepped towards you and started to drop to her knees. 

You reached for her, “Not here doll. Can I take you home? I want to take my time with you and treat ya right.” 

“Fine but I still kinda hate you,” she teased.

[halfwaythereroyalwrites]

Destressing (Steve Rogers x Filipina!Reader Kilig One-Shot)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Filipina!Reader 

Warnings: SMUT. Unprotected sex (wrap it up in real life, but this is fiction sooo). Oral (M! Receiving). Fingering. Spitting. Rough. Possible secondhand embarrassment or stress. It’s a lot. 

Word count: 2k+

Summary: Filipinx parties can be a lot, and Steve helps you destress before getting ready. 

Kilig is a Tagalog word to describe the feeling of excitement and exhilaration and possibly embarrassment from anything remotely romantic.

Masterlist

______________________________________ 

The continuous pitter-patter of the locker room shower was echoing off the walls. It seemed the world was against you that day. Meetings ran late. People kept cornering you with questions. Your damn badge inexplicably stopped working resulting in a lengthy visit to IT. All of this misfortunate happenings added to the anxiety you were feeling about tonight: the night Steve Rogers, aka Captain America, would finally meet your family. Unfortunately, the invite was late. Late as in — you found out this morning. The reason for the party escaped your mind. Your family finds any excuse to throw a party, and now that they know you had finally snagged a boyfriend — especially one that is a national hero — they were really eager to finally meet him.

Surprisingly, Steve took the last-minute plans in stride despite your very frantic announcement, with you aggressively cornering Steve after a briefing and rambling at 100 miles an hour about a party at Tita Maria’s house. He was already dressed by the time you had to leave. You, on the other hand, decided to stay and workout in the gym instead before going home, trying desperately to rid your body of anxiety.

“Doll, we’re gonna be late. We still have to head home before going to your folks’ place.”

The squeak of the shower being turned off made Steve quietly sigh in relief. You appeared in front of him, wrapped in a towel, and dripping water all over the floor.

“First off, being late is fine. It’d actually be pretty weird if we showed up on time,” you explained, opening your locker and sorting through your clean clothes. “Second, I hate going to these things. They’re gonna love you. You’re their ideal man, but I am never going to hear the end of it! ‘Did you gain weight?’ ‘Did you get darker?’ ‘So when are you getting married?’ UGH! I hate these things,” you were visibly seething by the end of your rant. You plopped down on to the bench next to Steve who brought your head closer to place a kiss on your temple.

“Well I hope I’m your ideal man too, doll,” Steve mused.

“Of course you are. I just don’t like coming around there,” you pouted at Steve, placing your hand on his thigh.

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be,” Steve offered. You couldn’t help but scoff at Steve’s naiveté. He’ll never know the level of mind games these parties require, and the very thought of going wound your muscles as tight as a vice.

“Babe, you have no idea how Filipino families can be. It’s Game of Thrones but with brown people and better food,” you quipped. Your hand massaged the sizable knot forming on your shoulder. Steve took notice and gently pushed your hand away, massaging the knot himself while you closed your eyes and leaned against him. “I’m sorry. I know you’re just trying to make me feel better.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for, doll,” Steve comforted. Damn it. This man was too perfect to be true. You had been bugging him all day about how you were dreading seeing your relatives, and yet here he was, patient and perfect, as ever. You kissed his cheek in response.

“Steve…” You trailed kisses from his cheek to his perfectly-cut jawline to his neck.

“Uh…ye-yes, doll?” Steve croaked out, his eyes closing at the feeling of you placing open-mouthed kisses on his neck.

“Can you help me calm down?”

“Ye-yeah what do you…mmmgghh,” Steve groaned mid-question as your hand made its way onto his groin, massaging his dick through his jeans. His head knocked back in pleasure — a low growl emanating from his throat. You whimpered at Steve’s hand stopping you from feeling him. “We’re going to be late. Anyone could walk in right now.”  Your hand continued grinding against Steve’s growing arousal. You nipped at his earlobe before whispering into his ear.

“Makes this all the more…exciting, doesn’t it?”  As graceful as you could, you got up from the bench and stood in front of him. “Steve, trust me. We got time.” You dropped your towel, got on your knees, and caressed his thighs — glancing up at him through your eyelashes.

“You’re killing me, doll.” Smirking, your fingers made quick work of unbuttoning and sliding his jeans and underwear off of his muscular legs. You took his half-erect cock in your hands, pumping a few times before licking a hot stripe up the big vein on the underside. Steve took his shirt off. His hand gripped a fistful of your hair. His head knocked back, eyes closed in ecstasy at your actions, and a low groan rumbled from his chest. A couple drops of pre-cum dripped out of the tip of his cock. Your thumb circled around the tip, kissing and softly sucking. You started licking and sucking on his balls, hand still pumping his length, making more pre-cum drip out of his sensitive tip. Steve had his eyes locked on you, and yours on him. You licked up the large protruding vein before spitting on his cock and quickly taking his length in your mouth.

“…fuuckk,” Steve whispered. The power you felt from the sight of his head knocking back in pleasure and his whispered cursing was indescribable. His hands held your hair and guided you up and down his pulsing cock. His mouth was agape, in awe of the pleasure you were giving him. Your hand was pumping whatever you couldn’t take in your mouth. Your moans of pleasure would shoot the most delicious vibrations down his cock which would make Steve groan in response, gripping your hair tighter and whispering your name over and over again, pleading with you not to stop. The throbbing sensation in your pussy was becoming unbearable, and you used your free hand to rub circles around your swollen clit, quickly coating your hand in your own arousal.

Each small pang of pleasure from your own hand made you moan on Steve’s cock. Steve gently thrust his hips up and pushed your head down, urging you to take him deep into your throat. Bracing your hands on his thighs, you gladly obliged, letting his dick slide past the back of your throat. He moved your head up and down slightly, the salacious sounds of you sucking and choking on his big dick echoing in the empty locker room, making you wetter and Steve groan louder. He pulled you off his cock, breathing hard at the sight of you, mouth and chin dripping wet with pre-cum and spit. You traced some off your chin and licked your fingers, keeping your eyes firmly locked on him. Steve roughly grabbed your jaw and kissed you, wasting no time slipping his tongue in your mouth, tasting the remnants of himself.

“Get up,” Steve growled. As soon as you got off your knees, he pulled you on top of him, your knees resting on either side of his hips, his mouth placing open-mouthed kisses on the base of your neck. His arm was around your waist, keeping you pinned to him, while his hand groped and teased your breast. He trailed down to your other breast, switching between sucking, licking, nipping, tugging, and teasing. The way he switched between your breasts. The way he would lick and grope and nip and…God, this man was going to be the end of you. Your hand was tangled in his hair, and you couldn’t help but mirror Steve’s earlier actions and knock your head back at the sensation of his mouth on your tits. “Look at me.”

You stared into his eyes that were now seemingly dark in a lust-ridden haze. His large hands gripped your hips before pushing you down to grind on his hard cock. A loud moan escaped your throat, eyes closing at the delicious friction he provided. “No,” he grunted. “Keep your eyes on me. I wanna see your face as you grind on my cock.” His hand gripped your hair as your hips were grinding on him; his groans deep and guttural, stirring your arousal even more.

“Steve, I can’t-I can’t take it anymore. Please,” you pleaded with him, your hips moving faster against his cock.

“Please, what? Use your words, doll. Tell me what you want.” His fingers started circling your clit, heightening your pleasure and making you lose your breath. He dipped his fingers into your soaked cunt, coating his fingers in your arousal. He thrust his curved fingers in you a few times, softly stroking a spot that made you roll your eyes back in pleasure. He pulled his fingers out and licked them, never letting his gaze break from yours.

“Agh! Fu-fuck, Steve…I want your cock in me, please,” you pleaded with him. Steve lined his erection up to your pussy and slowly thrust inside, letting you adjust to his length. You moaned at the sinful, sensual stretch of your pussy as Steve’s cock bottomed out. You moved your hips up and down, slowly, before picking up the pace. Steve gripped his hands on your hips, watching you in awe, slightly helping you up and down as you rode him. Your fingers tightly wound into his hair and gripped his neck for support. He whispered sweet nothings to you, as you repeatedly slammed your hips down onto his, reveling in the pleasure and heat of the moment.

Steve’s patience ran out and eagerly took back control. He gripped your hips and roughly thrust into you at a fast-paced, almost brutally satisfying way. You couldn’t help the strangled cry that escaped your treat at the raw ecstasy overtaking every inch of your body. His fingers started circling your clit, tightening the coil of your pending orgasm. “Holy shit! Fuck Steve! I’m so close. So close. Steve. Steve. Steve please…ah…ah…fuck…oh mY GOD STEVE!” You collapsed on his chest, shaking from the intensity of your orgasm. Steve’s arms circled around you, groaning at the feeling of your dripping pussy convulsing around his cock. He stroked your hair and rubbed your back as he waited for you to stop shaking, peppering your face with light kisses, whispering about how beautiful you look and how good you are doing. When your body had calmed down, Steve locked your lips into a passionate kiss. His lips moved against yours in a dance you knew all too well but could never get enough of. He pulled away and held your face in his hands. His thumbs caressing your cheeks, and your hands resting on his forearms. Steve took a moment to study you. Your pupils were dilated. Lips puffy. Your chest was still slightly heaving up and down, trying to calm down from your high. He placed a sweet peck on your lips and whispered

“You ok?” You bit your lip and nodded. There was no end to how perfect this man is. And he was yours. Steve Rogers was yours. He pulled you flush against him in an embrace. His deep, lust-ridden voice muttered into your ear. “My turn.”

To your surprise, Steve got up, keeping your body against his and slammed you against the lockers, being careful not to hurt you. You broke out into a fit of giggles before getting the breath knocked out of you from being pushed against the lockers. Steve adjusted your legs so that they encircled his hips, locking him in a vice grip. Steve groaned before thrusting his hips into yours at a rapid pace, gripping your hips. His hot breath fanning all over you as you clung onto him, lost in how fucking hot Steve was making you feel. Once again, you felt the tightening coil of your pending orgasm. “Steve, baby please. I’m so cl-close. Agh…agh…fuck!” Your breath was coming in short pants. Your nails dug into his shoulders. You screamed. Unfettered. Loud. Raw. You felt your orgasm wash over you in sweet, suffocatingly satisfying relief. Steve’s thrusts started losing their rhythm as your cunt convulsed around him. His breaths coming in hot, short pants now as well. He slammed his hips into yours, bottoming out, before pushing you against the lockers, making a loud slam that reverberated in the empty locker room. The intensity of his orgasm led to strangled, low groans by your ear, and his closed fist banged against the locker — the combined sounds making you moan. You felt his cum start to drip out of your pussy and onto your inner thighs. He thrust his cock in you a couple more times, bottoming out each time, before pulling out and setting your feet down on the ground.

You clung onto Steve for support, not trusting the strength of your legs. Steve picked up the towel you had dropped earlier and wiped you down, making sure to be gentle around your sensitive nub. “Ever the gentleman,” you quipped, grinning. Steve smirked at your smart comment, placing a sweet kiss on your lips.

“Ready to go now, doll?” Steve asked.

“Yes, I am,” you smiled. “But first, we have to shower.” 

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Masterlist

Requested by: @svetlana-beilschmidt​

A/N: Let me know what you think and/or if you want to be added to my taglist! 

Taglist: @peppermintvanillaa @fantasticcopeaglepasta​ @multifandomlife22​ @thottiewinemom​ @princeabomination​ @svetlana-beilschmidt​

[langdxn]

Meeting Punk!Duncan at a club and having him eat you out in the back of his car because he couldn’t wait to get you home and he’s that good you end up squirting all over him.

Can I just run away with punk!Duncan now? Thank you for the request anon, this made my semi-punk heart very happy! ❤️❤️❤️

The stage was set.

Fugazi reunited for a one-off hometown show at the Fillmore Silver Spring. You finally finished studding the 10-pound leather jacket of your dreams. And you bumped into an intriguing man in the smoking area.

The way his smoke swirled around his head like an ironic halo made your knees weak. The streams danced between his brunette spikes like a spectral obstacle course. The way he inhaled like his life depended on this toke, leaning against the venue wall like he was part of the furniture. The way he grinned as he watched you watching him savour his cigarette.

Wait. He was watching you watching him.

“You okay there, baby girl?” He drawled, shrugging his eyebrows as you snapped back into the real world with a shake of your head. “Need a drag?”

Hell, he even spun his cigarette around in his fingers to proffer it towards you in such a slick manner, he’d put Danny Zuko to shame.

“Sure, thanks dude,” you muttered, purposefully swiping his palm with your soft fingertips as you plucked the cigarette from his hand. Inhaling deeply, more deeply than usual at least, your tongue darted out to find the lingering taste of his lips that rubbed off onto yours.

He tasted like vanilla. Punks don’t taste like vanilla. Punks never taste like vanilla.

“Duncan Shepherd,” he declared as he took back his smoke.

“The Duncan Shepherd?”

He nodded, nervously twirling his lip piercing. “Unfortunately, yeah.”

“Your family’s high up in politics and you’re out here standing in spilled beer and cigs with me?”

He straightened up, towering over you with a menacing grin spread across his cheeks. Snaking an arm around your waist, he cinched you in until his plump lips hovered over yours.  

“No place I’d rather be, doll.”

You blushed like a teenager, gazing at his Doc Martens in an attempt to break his Medusa-like stare.

“Does that one work often?”

“Zero percent success rate,” he sighed, leaning back against the wall ever so slightly defeated. “But then again the name is usually a dealbreaker so you’re already bucking the trend.”

“Glad to hear it,” you chuckled.

“So you know all about me already, but I don’t know a damn thing about this beautiful stranger whose lips taste like vanilla.”

Your eyes darted to the cigarette, then back up to his baby blues, a devious grin sneaking across his lips.

“What do you wanna know then, Mr Shepherd?”

“Nothing too sordid. Just your name, where you live and exactly how long it’ll take me to get you out of that bondage belt.”

He leaned in again, this time chasing your lips with intent as you stuttered a response, his hot breaths fanning your hair from your face.

“Y/N, the other side of DC and the buckle’s at the back.”

“I love a straightforward girl,” he cooed, pressing his lips against yours fervently, taking your breath away.

His kiss was so commanding, so deep, the rest of the world around you disappeared into a murmur of indistinguishable voices. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears as you clasped a hand behind his neck and pulled him closer, triggering a broad smile against your lips. His hands rested respectfully on your hips, drinking in every curve and exploring your existence.

“My place?” He hummed against your lips between thrashes of his tongue against yours. “We can make it back for Fugazi, I’m only a couple blocks away.”

“Fucking deal,” you panted, taking his hand as he led you out to the parking lot.

Before you knew it, you were bundling into the passenger seat of a vintage Camaro SS, slipping out of your heavy jacket while Duncan frantically fumbled with his keys in the dark, a metallic cacophony that suggested your driver was a little too impatient. He shot you a nervous smile as he cursed under his breath, trying every key in the ignition to no avail.

“Fucking piece of retro shit,” he fumed before chucking the entire collection of keys in the air and planting his hand on your thighs. “Fuck this. Get in the back seat for me, babe.”

“Damn, Mr Shepherd, someone’s needy,” you giggled, hooking a leg over the stick shift as Duncan skilfully unbuckled your belt while you manoeuvred in the least attractive way possible. Duncan followed suit while shedding his black jacket and parting your knees to crouch between them.

“If you could see yourself through my eyes, you’d see why I can’t wait to get you home.”

Hitching your skirt around your waist, Duncan moaned greedily as he came face-to-face with your panties and the only obstacle between him and your throbbing cunt were your fishnets.

“May I?” His eyes roved up to yours as he carefully pinched a clump of your tights in both hands until you nodded breathlessly and a curt rip echoed around the car, followed by a victorious moan as Duncan deftly slipped your panties to one side.

“Fuck,” he panted as he greeted your already glistening folds, eyes wide and glassy with lust. He dipped a curious finger into the arousal pooling at your entrance and slicked it on his tongue. “Your pussy tastes like vanilla too!”

“Shepherd, put that silver tongue to work,” you purred, cupping his head in your hands and throwing yours back against the leather headrest.

Duncan’s impatience prevailed as he sank his head between your thighs, latching his lips onto your clit and sucking ever so gently. The tip of his tongue traced lazy circles around your sensitive spot, his stubble burning at your entrance. Your hips bucked into his jaw, back arching as he shifted to slick your entrance.

Humming hungrily against your folds, vibrations sending chills up your spine, Duncan lapped at your cunt filling the car with obscene wet sounds in between your desperate moans.

“You’re so wet for me baby doll,” he murmured, fingers wandering to part your folds and offer his tongue entrance to your heat. “This pussy is all mine, right baby?”

“Yea—yes daddy,” you stuttered between shallow pants as his breaths ghosted over your cunt, spread wide open before him.

Duncan turned his attentions to dipping his tongue between your folds. Stroking your walls in languid motions, he groaned with every thrust as a hand pressured your abdomen to hold down your keening hips.

“Stay still for daddy,” he purred as he trailed a finger between your folds, slipping inside with ease and curling against your walls while his tongue swirled over your swollen clit. Edging you closer to your climax, he added one more finger with a gentle gasp as his digits buried inside you. Sliding yet another finger deep into your heat, Duncan growled as he stroked eager motions that sent shakes down your thighs. Your breaths laboured, blissful and overwhelmed, you balled your hand nestled in his hair and mewled desperately.

“Duncan, I’m gonna—“

“That’s a good girl, cum for me,” he beckoned breathlessly, tongue racing through your folds as your walls constricted tightly.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head while an overwhelming spasm spread through your legs, a strong wave of pleasure racing to your cunt as you lost control and sprayed all over Duncan’s face. He didn’t flinch, his eyes simply widened and watched you quiver through your orgasm, back arching and hips jittering uncontrollably while the front of his painstakingly styled hair slowly dipped forward after being soaked. Duncan chuckled under his breath, wiping his forehead as clear droplets brimmed on his brows, trails of your arousal streaming down his cheeks as he grinned greedily.

“Fucking hell babe, you didn’t tell me you could…”

“I—I… I didn’t know,” you panted through sharp, shallow breaths, chest heaving frantically as Duncan grabbed his jacket to dry himself down. You fumbled through your pocket for a post-head smoke, discovering your phone that alerted you to the time you’d spent fooling around in the back of Duncan’s car.

“Dunc, Fugazi’s about to start,” you tapped his shoulders and attempted to close your knees together, only for his large hands to firmly hold your thighs apart and dive right between them again.

“Fuck Fugazi, babe, I need to make you squirt all over me again.”

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

read part two here

[fvlminare]

✗✗✗   you see [ camille rivas ] around lately? yeah i heard that the [ cis female ] is up to no good. [ she / her ] has been here for [ three years ] now but they’re still pretty [ calculating ] which is fine because they’re also [ ardent ] so it balances out. the [ twenty-six ] year old [ dancer at mayhem ] actually looks like a lot like [ sofia carson ], don’t you think? it’s best to watch out, though, because it’s been said that they’re really into [ the rush of cocaine in her veins & a vice grip on her throat ]. 

henlo it me again! i hope u guys aren’t sick of me yet bc here’s my other bb! say hello to my boss-ass bish gal camile! she’s sassy, classy and a lil badassy. she’s a rather feisty, fiery, ball of rage and anger who cba with ur bullshit tbh n she’ll tell u this too if u piss her off enough! she’s lowkey cutthroat and always out for number one, aka: herself. but, i mean, she does have some redeeming qualities and her hair is bomb af so that makes up for it all really, doesn’t it? basically that meme: ‘ she’s beauty, she’s grace, she’ll punch you in the face. ’ anywho, you know the drill, slap a lil luv on this n i’ll come pester u for all the good stuff : - ) 

fundamentals.

CAMILLE ALARA RIVAS     —     twenty-six, dancer at mayhem,   +   an honest-to-god vixen   /   hellcat   /   lil demoness ! 

aesthetics   ➤   dresses of black lace and red velvet, the scent of chanel perfume lingering in the air as she floats past, blood-red fingertips coiled around the pistol grip of a gun, red-bottomed heels clicking against marble floors, rose gold highlighter shimmering along the height of prominent cheekbones, satin dresses draped over a svelte frame that is shrouded in an air of mystery and intrigue, baby pink roses in a vase on the window sill, deft fingers stained with charcoal and oil paint, the melodic chime of piano keys, delicate digits adorned with moonstone gem rings, a coy smile spread across full crimson lips, long raven locks blowing in the cool breeze of a summer’s evening, battered books with dog-eared pages, a sense of freedom and carelessness when dancing for fun, & a sense of allurement and captivation when dancing for work.

nicknames. cam, cami, mil, millie, spawn of satan >:~)

date of birth. april tenth.

gender. cis female.

pronouns. she + her.

birthplace. manhattan, new york.

orientation. pansexual + demiromantic.

education. bachelor of dance degree obtained from nyu tisch school of the arts.

spoken languages. can speak fluent english, spanish, & latin.

negative traits. capricious, ornery, impulsive, guileful, caustic, brusque, obstinate, destructive, deceptive, & promiscuous.

positive traits. ardent, whimsical, intrepid, graceful, poised, elegant, headstrong, observant, independent, & confident.

strengths. optimistic, energetic, creative, practical, spontaneous, rational, knows how to prioritise, great in a crisis, & relaxed.

weaknesses. stubborn, insensitive, private, reserved, easily bored, dislikes commitment, & has a rather risky behaviour.

talents. ballet, knife throwing, hand-to-hand combat, horse riding, figure skating, piano, violin, painting, singing, & dancing.

physiology. hazel eyes. dark brown hair. five feet, four inches tall. of a petite, slender stature with subtle curves and long hair. has a long silvery scar on her back. her skin is clean of any tattoos. has both earlobes pierced. requires glasses but wears contacts most days. is right-handed.

psychology. aries zodiac. fire element. ravenclaw house. istp-a. true neutral. type seven enneagram. choleric temperament. intra-personal intelligence type. addicted to alcohol, tobacco, and cannabis. suffers from addiction and abandonment issues. her vices are lust, greed and wrath. her virtues are ... ( again ) honestly, probably just diligence tbh.

background.

possible triggers   :   child abandonment, abandonment issues, foster homes, alcohol, drugs, violence, gore, blood, murder, & death.

a synopsis.   ok so for this gal, let’s all give a big, warm welcome to sadness ( no, i was in no way at all inspired by salem from sabrina for that line ) bc boy oh boy, her life has been constant grief and pain, tbh. strap in for the bumpy ride, i’ll give u cookies for compensation. OK SO, camille was abandoned as a baby, never did—and still doesn't—know her biological parents and she doesn’t want to either, tbh. she bounced around from foster home to foster home, never sticking in one place for too long. given her turbulent upbringing, she was somewhat of a difficult child. too boisterous, too unruly, too stubborn, too inquisitive. too much of everything but never enough of anything. never enough for anybody to want her. it didn’t take the girl too long to figure out that it was just her alone, against the big bad world. from the age that she was old enough to realise it, camille knew that she had to fend for herself—that she could never truly rely on a single soul but herself. the hollowness inside her chest never quite satiated, leaving her empty and only too well aware of the lack of her real parental figures. as a young adolescent, this started to crawl under her skin and mess with her mind. it rendered her void of affection and unable to form genuine bonds with others—filling her with deep-rooted resentment that festered beneath the surface of the indifferent demeanour she plastered over herself every day. she always felt starved of love: as if some integral part of her heart was missing, leaving a gaping void that nobody could ever fill. anywho, she fell in with the wrong crowd which did little to aid her foster families hostility toward her. truthfully, most of her experiences in various homes were ... not pleasant. she’d encountered abusive ‘parents,’ horrible ‘siblings,’ and even worse schooling days. pressing the self-destruct button is this gal’s speciality thus she found herself gravitating towards her vices: things and people she knew were no good for her. drink, drugs, people, you name it. quickly, she realised that these things were no longer any good at keeping her dark side at bay: she needed something more, something deeper. thus, she began going down the road of petty crimes—stealing cars, smashing windows, theft, setting fires both metaphorically and literally. due to this lifestyle, she wound up entangled with some real shady folk who did … even shadier things. most specifically, she started dating a real jackass who was violent and truthfully, a horrible person, really. stupidly, she decided to run off into the metaphorical sunset with him * insert eye roll emoji here. * so, fast forward a year or so and things took a swift nosedive when her lowlife boyfriend’s hands were round her throat and not in the kinky way. while she’d clawed at him and tried to fight him off, she struggled against his weight and strength until, eventually, she lifted the first makeshift weapon she felt: a rusted pair of scissors. [ TRIGGER FOR VIOLENCE, GORE, BLOOD, MURDER, DEATH ] and, in a blind state of panic, she jammed them right into his jugular vein, his blood squirting out and decorating her face in crimson splatters. he’d stumbled backwards, clutched onto his neck, blood spurting from the webs between his fingers. naturally, camille was shook about this but somehow managed to flee the scene with less guilt rattling her soul than she’d imagined. [ TRIGGER OVER ] in her mind, it was an act of self defence. it wasn’t too long after the incident that she found herself in a rather perilous situation that resulted in her sudden realisation that she needed to get her damn life on track. therefore, she done the responsible adult thing and got herself a decent education. somehow, she managed to get into university where her life started to shape into a positive one—the kind she’d always dreamed of. once she graduated, camille decided that she wanted to see the world. following a couple of years travelling, she wound up in santa ysabel where she quickly fell into the employment of mayhem. admittedly, this was a far cry from the future she’d envisioned when she was just a sweet, innocent lil child. still, all in all, she kind of digs who she is and what she is: after everything she’s been through, she loves herself. it’s been a long and winding road but camille finally believes that she’s settled in her life now. tho she still refuses to let people in, her abandonment issues terrifying her to the degree that she feels that anybody she’d ever let into her life would eventually leave her in the end. * insert sad face emoji here. *

random extras.

her tell? playing with her hair: when she’s lying, nervous, flirting—you name it!

can drink any man under the table. 

she loves art in every form: paintings, sculptures, music, dance, people, etc. she loves the freedom that expressing herself through these mediums gives her.

she’s ... experimental. she’s experimented with just about everything: hairstyles, clothing, drink, drugs, people ...

can be hella calculating and vindictive so do not cross her.

quite power-hungry tbh.

she does have a shot at redemption but she doesn’t want it lmao. she’s already been to hell so why bother trying to right her wrongs?

and boy, are her wrongs a century-long list shkjsh.

high key is not above killing people who don’t do things her way.

doesn’t believe she’s capable of loving anyone.

she’s lowkey a perfectionist to the point of being ruthless, also cutthroat and egotistical.

if ya ain’t of use to her, then what the heck is ur purpose???

she’s v ambitious, v morally ambiguous, v self-serving and v self-involved.

she can be ... aggressive sometimes and most definitely has anger issues.

dry sense of humour one million per cent.

her signature look is her blood-red lips.

extremely skilled with knives and blades. and always carries one on her person at all times.

her most prized possession is her brushed chrome zippo lighter. it has her initials engraved into it and where she got it from, or who is something she’ll never tell.

always says she needs to quit smoking but never does and probably never will either.

did someone say ... resting bitch face???

tho when she smiles it’s like sunshine uwu

high key will sleep with anyone.

first place is the ONLY acceptable place, ok??? 

one of those people who just excels at everything she tries her hand at.

absolutely adores animals. much prefers them to humans.

she’s quite adventurous and loves to feel the adrenaline in her blood.

doesn’t take herself or her life too seriously.

always up for a good time and is usually the life of the party.

outspoken and quick-witted with a sharp tongue.

much too sassy and sarcastic for her own good.

really, she does what she wants to, when she wants to, without seeking the approval of others.

truthfully? she’s a bit of a spitfire if you really irk her. so, watch out.

you can find a pinterest board for her by clicking anywhere here.

[cordonia-continued]

In The Shadows

Book: The Royal Romance 1 & 2. Bastien’s story.

Pairings: Bastien. Liam x MC (Riley Taylor)

Warnings: slight swearing, slight angst

A/N: I thought it would be nice to see things from Bastien’s POV. Any similarities to anything else out there is unintentional and is purely coincidental. I fell in love with the TRR series late and have only just got into it. I felt that some of the chapters just needed a bit more - it goes along with my previous fanfic where Riley went back to New York briefly after the coronation ball.

All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Apologies in advance for any typos, grammar or spelling errors.

Chapter 1

‘You did what?’ Bastien’s eyebrows knit together and he shakes his head slightly, he stares down at the young noble, disbelieving.

‘I...um...I asked the waitress from last night to come back to Cordonia with us. To...um be House Beaumont’s sponsor for the suitor.’

Maxwell, Drake and the girl have arrived in the palace lobby, upon seeing the waitress Bastien immediately grabbed Maxwells elbow and led him away from the others.

Bastien stands slack jawed in front of Maxwell. Maxwell was so confident in his earlier decision but is now unsure that it was a good idea at all, what with Drakes blatant disapproval and now Bastien getting on his case. Hiding his nerves he smiles a big wide toothed grin at Bastien, his eyes are however peering sheepishly at the large imposing figure in front of him. Bastien crosses his arms in front of his chest.

‘Seriously Lord Maxwell?’ Silently he adds what the hell is wrong with you?

‘Um...should I not have?’ Maxwell looks crestfallen, his voice less confident. Bastien shakes his head again.

‘It’s just...I saw how well they got on and how Liam looked at her...’ a soppy smile plays at Maxwells lips and Bastien lets out a sigh. ‘And I just thought it would make him happy.’

‘Lord Maxwell I shouldn’t have to tell you about security, you can’t just go around inviting random strangers back to the palace. What about her security clearance? What about the background checks? There’s a process for choosing suitors for a reason.’

‘Pleeease Bastien? Please let her stay, surely you can get all those things done?’ Maxwell’s whiney tone irritates Bastien. What the hell is wrong with these entitled kids? He thinks. Do they not realise my job is hard enough as it is. He takes a deep breath and tries not to show how irritated he is. He can’t believe Drake had a part in this, he had thought better of him, his dad was a kings guard, he’s seen first hand how tough their job was, he didn’t think Drake would have gone along with this stupid scheme.

‘Look, I can try and fast track her security clearance but the background checks might take a while. You should have at least run this by me first.’ The scowl on Bastien’s face gives away his irritation, but there is little he can do now she’s here, he’s not heartless enough to put her straight back on a plane home.

‘Is that a yes to her staying then?’ Maxwell asks his voice full of hope. ‘Please? Please?’ Maxwell hops from foot to foot.

‘For now it is, but listen to me carefully, this is only temporary. If the checks come back less than satisfactory I will get rid her faster than you can say Jack Robinson.’

‘Who?’

Bastien sighs, exasperated ‘It’s an idiom Lord Maxwell... anyway that’s not important. Lady Riley will be kept a close eye on until she’s cleared, you understand? And if anything happens to the Crown Prince I’m holding you personally responsible, get it?’ For his own amusement Bastien runs a finger across his throat, keeping the tone of his voice hard, his cold eyes staring at Maxwell in what he hoped was an intimidating way. Maxwell nods his head very slowly, eyes wide.

Why did none of them take his role seriously? Bastien thinks, he thought his job would be a lot easier now with Prince Liam to look after. After looking after the rebel that was Prince Leo he assumed this would be a walk in the park. He’s still not forgiven himself for allowing the former crown prince to escape his security detail time and time again.

‘Thank you, Thank you, Thank you!’ Maxwell sings. ‘I could hug you!’

‘Please don’t’ Bastien growls holding a hand up in front of Maxwells face. ‘I’ve got work to do’. He strides out of the lobby back to the security offices in the basement of the palace.

Bastien unlocks the door to his windowless office, despite the heat of the Cordonian summer outside the air inside is cool. The quiet tranquillity of his clutter free desk, pristine stark white walls and marble floor are a comfort to him. He sinks gratefully into his black leather office chair. Why did I ever agree to that ridiculous bachelor party? He thinks back to the nightmare he had arranging the security so that of the Crown Prince of Cordonia and his friends could galavant freely around New York. He had factored in the girls that would no doubt throw themselves at Liam, that was par for the course with the young handsome prince, what he hadn’t factored in however, was a waitress taking the Prince on a god damn boat to the Statue of Liberty. What a curve ball that had turned out to be, he very nearly called the coast guard for an escort, but for some unknown reason his gut told him to trust her, and he had thankfully trusted his gut. He shook his head at the memory of the feisty American girl that seemed to hold some kind of power over the Prince that night. In all honesty he didn’t think he’d see her again, he should have known better. He too had noticed how Liam was around her, he hadn’t seen the Prince act that way before, as far as he’s aware Liam has never been in love, never had a serious girlfriend even, not like Leo who fell dramatically in love with every girl he met, often regaling Bastien with tales of the wild nights he had spent with them when Bastien had finally tracked him down and dragged him back the palace. No Liam wasn’t like his brother in that respect. This isn’t going to end well Bastien thought I’ve got a bad feeling about this one.

Powering up his laptop he got to work on the background checks for the pretty American waitress, hoping it wouldn’t be too difficult. Maxwell had emailed him back the questionnaire all candidates had to fill in so at least he had a starting point.

Several hours later an alarm sounded on his phone, the masquerade ball was starting, he needed to get up to the ballroom and check in with the security team up there. He stretched his arms above his head intertwining his fingers and cracking his knuckles, he rolled his head from side to side straightening out the kinks in his neck from being hunched over his laptop for so long. Normally these kids were easy to trace, their social media often gave away a lot of information, but not this one. So far all he’s traced her back to is one bank account with a pittance in it; an address for a studio apartment in a not so nice area of Queens; and a history of jobs like the one at the bar that they already knew about from when the guys met her. She’s proving to be an enigma and Bastien doesn’t like mysteries.

He moves through the passageways of the palace quickly and silently, finally emerging in the ballroom. He scans the room for the prince and spots him deep in conversation through the balcony doors with the waitress. Shit he thinks to himself making his way quickly and discreetly to the open doors of the balcony. He’s being doing this job for so long he knows how to blend seamlessly into the background, lurking in the shadows. He casts an ear over the Prince’s conversation telling himself it’s to make sure nothing confidential is being discussed, in reality he wants to suss out the situation, check if his initial instincts about Liam’s feeling were right. He’s not sure he trusts this girl yet, not until he’s had more time to look into where she’s come from, this is real life not a fucking fairytale he thinks to himself bitterly.

Later that night he watches from an upstairs window as the Prince and the mystery suitor enter the hedge maze. To give him his due Liam hasn’t done a bad job of trying to evade Bastien, however Bastien has had plenty of practice and Liam definitely isn’t as good at sneaking around as Leo was. This Riley girl is going to be the Prince’s Achilles heel he can tell already. He watches silently from afar, letting the Prince have his fun, letting him think he’s outrun Bastien. He smiles to himself remembering his youth, whilst he never had girls throwing themselves at him in quite the same way, he remembers what it was like to be carefree. He waits until he’s sure the Prince has returned to his room alone before making his way to his own room, vowing to make a renewed effort to trace the enigmatic Riley Taylor.

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Stark Spangled Banner Ch45: He Started It...

Intro: Katie and Steve adapt to being new parents and all the changes to their lives that having a baby brings. And of course, Tony just can’t help but try and get one over on Steve starting a feud between the pair of a slightly different kind...

Warnings: Bad Language words. Smut! (NSFW) No under 18s. Slight angst (new mummies will relate) and Tony and Steve behaving worse than the kids…

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist 

May 2020

Katie heard a set of keys being dropped onto the table in the hallway and looked up as Steve opened the door to the living room, crossing the floor, Lucky following him before promptly dropping on the rug in front of the fire place, clearly pooped after his walk.

“Hi.” Steve smiled, sinking to one knee and pressing a kiss to her cheek as he reached out a careful finger, gently tracing the curve of our Jamie’s busily working cheeks. "Somebody's hungry."

"Somebody takes after his father in that respect," Katie retorted glancing up at him as he gently loosened another button on his plaid shirt, rubbing his hand over his once more clean shaven face. She’d given up on trying to keep up with his beard growing/beard murdering antics.

“I feel like I should be apologising.” he said as his lips pressed onto hers and she gave him a proper kiss. He pulled back, smiling as he looked down at the tiny hand that gripped his finger solidly, lost in his thoughts. Only the previous month the new dad had been in the throws of a sudden crisis of confidence post one of Jamie’s check-ups. Though Jamie was as healthy as a baby could possibly be, he was still on the small side. Bigger than he was when he was born but still tiny. The Paediatrician advised it was nothing to worry about, and that it was likely to be something to do with Steve's body chemistry and who he was before the serum. Steve had been none too thrilled and had blurted out to her later on that he felt like he had let their son down.

“You could never let our boy down, ever.” she said, as they both lay on the bed, Steve’s feet both planted firmly on the top of the duvet, legs bent with Jamie resting back against his thighs, both his hands curled round Steve’s fingers. “He’s perfectly fine and healthy Steve, if he grows up a little small, so what?”

“I just want more for him, more than I was you know.” Steve swallowed, his eyes misting over.

“Hey, look at me.” she reached up and turned his head to face her. “You have always had the biggest heart, regardless of what you think. The serum isn’t you, you’re you, and if Jamie grows up to be half the man his daddy is I’ll be so proud”

The fact that right now Jamie seemed to have an exceptionally strong grip for a twelve week old baby made Steve slightly more confident that maybe he had inherited some of the positive effects of the serum after all.

“What time do we need to be at Tony’s?” Steve eventually asked, tearing his eyes off his son to look at his wife.

“Pepper says to get there any time from four so we can collect Emmy from school and go straight up.”

“Sounds good. Do you wanna stay or come home?” Steve asked.

“Rather be at home.” she answered, softly “Just easier whilst he’s so young. If he starts screaming the house down at least we’re here.” “Whatever you want, doll.” he smiled, and at that point his attention was taken once more by baby Rogers who had finally finished his meal, milky mouth opening into a small yawn.  Katie handed him over to Steve and did up the shirt that she was wearing, as Steve stood up, adjusted a soft cloth over his shoulder and held him tenderly to his front, gently patting his back.

“Baby you look exhausted” he looked down at Katie as she yawned.

“Thanks.” she grumbled.

He chuckled “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yeah well I probably do look like shit.” she sighed “Neither of us got much sleep did we?”

They’d had a rough night the night before. Since they’d brought him home, Steve and Katie had both shared the night feeds following advice from various people to spread the load so to speak. The problem is, for some reason, Jamie hadn’t settled at all post feeding and in attempt to let Katie get some rest, Steve had brought him downstairs but it hadn’t worked as she was unable to sleep as the sounds of his cries had made her heartache.

“Why don’t you go get your head down for a bit?” he asked as his large hand rubbed at their son’s back. Before Katie could reply, Jamie promptly spit up down the front of Steve’s T-Shirt, missing the cloth completely.

“Nice shot son…” Steve rolled his eyes and Katie laughed standing up to mop him off. Jamie seemed utterly nonplussed by his activities and his large, blue eyes blinked heavily before closing. Steve brushed a soft kiss across his son's forehead and then looked at his wife again.

“Go, get some sleep.” he said “And that’s not a request, I’ll wake you in a few hours.”

“Bossy bastard” she mumbled.

He arched an eyebrow at her “I’m not bossy, I just can’t deal with Tony’s tantrum if his baby sister falls asleep at his 50th party.”

“Good point, well made.” she said conceding he was right. She leaned up to give him a kiss on the cheek before heading back out of the room.

Steve watched her go, a frown playing across his face. She’d been really quiet over the last few weeks. Life with a baby wasn’t easy, it was full of hard works, sleepless nights, puke, poop…but every time he saw his son it all paled into insignificance for him, as he was worth it. Maybe his wife was struggling a little, as despite her joke before, Jamie sure did feed a hell of a lot. At their last appointment it had been suggested that maybe they tried introducing formula as well to help fill him up which was what they had started to do overnight and he had been hoping that it would it make things a little better for her as he could do the night feeds and allow her to sleep. Last night had been the worst one they’d had in the twelve weeks since his birth but that aside, there were other things he had already noticed too the main one being she wasn’t as affectionate towards him as she had been. The other night for instance he’d tried to instigate a little bit of something because frankly after months of giving himself a jerking off once every so often when he felt like his balls would explode, he missed her. He missed how she felt under him, over him, next to him…any which way she was. But, he knew he had to be patient, her body had been through a lot after all. He’d wondered at first if it could be post-partum depression but none of the other signs he had read up on were there so he was putting it down to tiredness and hormones. He couldn’t help with the latter, but he could sure as hell try and make sure she slept. And he could apologise for being  impatient as well.

Once Jamie had dropped off to sleep, Steve placed him in the basket and headed into the kitchen. There were a few dishes and what not from breakfast so he sorted that out, wiped the surfaces to save Katie a job and then settled down in front of the TV. It wasn’t long before he was himself asleep.

***** Katie wanted to cry. Nothing in her fucking closet fit, well nothing that didn’t make her look huge. She’d settled for a navy blue strapless maxi dress which flared out from her waist so wasn’t clingy. The large pink and white flower patterns also flattered her as much as she could but she wasn’t happy.

You’ve just had a baby, let’s be real… she thought to herself, before she grabbed a pair of strappy sandals and a denim jacket, hastily wiping her eyes. Fuck it, she was going to be amongst friends, as if they cared what she looked like. She stepped back into the main part of the bedroom, where Steve was pulling on a dark green polo-shirt. She looked at him for a moment, simply admiring him, and found herself rather jealous that his physique hadn’t changed since having a baby. He had no stretch marks, no two inch increase to his hips, belly and fuck knows what to his boobs. Bastard.

Steve’s head emerged from his shirt and he looked at his wife, watching as she moved to sit at the dresser to pull her hair back into a loose braid. He passed her, his hands dropping to her shoulders as he stopped to give her bare skin a soft kiss.

“You look beautiful.”

“Sure.” the sarcastic response and the eye roll happened before she could stop them, and she hoped he hadn’t noticed but of course, he had. Steve frowned “You do.”

She sighed and looked down slightly. Steve didn’t like this, not one bit. Moving so that he was by her side he gently placed a hand on her knee and knelt down next to her, and she glanced at him as he looked up from his spot on the carpet. “Honey, please don’t fly off the handle at me, but are you okay?” he asked “This isn’t like you and I’m kinda getting worried a little.” “Hormones.” Katie sighed, rubbing at her eyes slightly. “And lack of sleep. That’s all.”

“So it’s not something I’ve done. Or not done?”

“No, baby, it isn’t.” she smiled at him.

“Alright, as long as you’re sure.” He licked his lips slightly before he took a deep breath “And I’m sorry if last night you thought I was rushing you or putting pressure on you.” he licked his lips. “I didn’t mean to. At all.”

Katie looked at him and suddenly felt awful. He hadn’t done anything of the sort. He’d been nothing but patient and loving with her since Jamie had been born.

“Steve.” she shook her head, “That’s not…” she sighed again and pinched the bridge of her nose “You didn’t. Honestly. It’s me…I-“

She swallowed and looked down at her hands and when she looked back at him, it was his turn to sigh as he saw the tears brimming in her eyes.

“Honey, please talk to me.” he begged, both his hands now on her knees as he knelt up slightly.

“I just…” the tears trickled down her face and Steve took a deep breath as she looked at him “I know you say I look beautiful but I don’t feel it, not at the moment. I don’t feel like me, I feel, well, I feel different. I look different, none of my stuff fits now, I feel huge and fat and…” “Ok, stop.” Steve instructed sternly but not unkindly. He wanted to tell her she was being ridiculous, as frankly he loved the changes to her body. There was a new curve to her hips, her body was softer, her face slightly rounder. She wasn’t fat either, she was what maybe you could call the average girl in the street. But Steve understood straight away that the problem was she was used to her figure before-hand. Her washboard stomach, trim legs and thighs all courtesy of a physical job and Avenger Training. And as Steve knew only too well, sudden changes to yourself could be hard to deal with.

“You had a baby three months ago.” he continued.

“I know but since when did a baby mean my ass had to treble in size, or my hips, or my boobs…” she trailed off “I just don’t feel attractive anymore.” Steve took a deep breath, and then suddenly something popped into his head, something that hopefully could make her understand and see why none of that shit, even if it was true would matter to him in the slightest.

“If I woke up tomorrow, and the serum was gone, and I was back to being that 5ft 4, ninety-five pound scrawny guy from Brooklyn would you love me any less?” he looked at her. “No, of course not.” she said indignantly “But that’s not the same!” “Why not?” “Because this is about how I feel.” she said

“Yeah, and I still feel like that kid that was getting his ass kicked all the time.” Steve implored her, searching her face “The serum didn’t change who I am.” “And that’s why I love you.” she frowned.

“Exactly. So what makes you think I could possibly love you any less now because your hips or your ass or your boobs are bigger, which for the record, I’m kinda on board with.” “Jerk.” she mumbled, sniffing slightly and he smiled.

“Frankly,” he looked up at her, his eyes heavy, “I still find you the most beautiful woman on the planet. And you’re my wife, who gave birth to my baby boy.”

She cocked her head to the side and he saw a smile flicker on her face. “Say it.”

He raised an eyebrow, “What?” “You know what.” “You’re my baby momma” he grinned with a low voice and it made her smile as she bit her lip. He took a deep breath and reached out with his hand to cup her face “I love you.” “I love you too.” she replied gently, and she leaned down to press her lips onto his, the kiss growing quickly heated as she slid her hands into his hair, her nails raking down his neck causing him to grown.

“Seriously,” Steve pulled back, looking at her, groaning as he did, “you’re gonna have to stop that because if start I aint gonna be able to stop and we’ll be late picking Emmy up.”

Katie looked at her husband, his blue eyes shining with mischief and she was both surprised, pleased and a little relieved to feel that familiar tingle between her legs that she hadn’t felt for ages. Glancing at the clock she realised she was right so she sighed and turned back to the mirror.

“Hold that thought soldier.” she looked at him in her reflection as he stood up and smiled, dropping a kiss to the crook of her shoulder and neck, and this time she didn’t push him away.

***** "I still can't believe this is all real." He admitted as they both lay on the bed, their son in between them, arms and legs flailing as he made contented noises gazing up and smiling at them both. Earlier that day, Jamie’s first ever smile had been at Katie as she had gone to get him up out of the crib at the end of their bed. She’d beamed back at him and when Steve had gotten one himself that same day he’d simply been amazed at their little boy.

“You know, sometimes I feel like this is all a dream and one day I’m gonna wake up, and…" he trailed off and looked at her “Is that strange?" 

“No, I don’t think so.” She looked at him. “Sometimes I feel guilty for being so happy. I mean, if it hadn’t been for that Snap would we even have had him?” Steve sighed, “I know what you mean.” “I miss them." Katie said gently.  

"I know you do," he whispered pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I do too."

They all missed their friends, that was evident at Tony’s later that evening. The billionaire had always been known for his parties. Anyone who’s anyone would attend and they had all been raucous events filled with memorable moments. In contrast, the small gathering that was now sat on the table outside the lake-house was much more subdued. This was their first social gathering really since the snap and although various faces were missing, every single person sat there would have been happy to tell anyone who asked that it was enjoyable. Thor, who hadn’t seen Jamie since a week after he was born was astounded at how fast the boy had grown, commenting that he was remarkably like his father, but with his mother’s nose. Their baby was, in turn, fascinated by the God, pulling on his beard at every chance he got. Steve was apologising profoundly, but Thor wasn’t in the slightest bit bothered, if anything he seemed to enjoy it. He entertained the tot for quite some time, which gave Katie chance to relax. Relax enough to quietly, although not that quiet so that Steve couldn’t overhear her, ask Pepper if she would be ok to have a glass of wine whilst still feeding Jamie. Pepper had smiled and simply told the younger woman that one glass wasn’t going to hurt, especially if she wasn’t going to be nursing until the morning and with that she’d poured a large one and slid it over to Katie across the kitchen counter. She’d hesitated for a moment and Steve had leant over closer to her, his finger-tips gently stroking her bare neck and shoulders.

“Doll, we have enough bottles made up, if you want a drink, it’ll be fine.”

With that she’d smiled at him, picked up her glass and headed back outside. He’d followed and as she’d gone to sit back down at the table had pulled her chair out for her, force of habit as always, only this time when she’d sat down and he’d leant forward to place a soft kiss on her cheek she’d turned towards him and gently rubbed her nose against his.

“Thank you” she smiled softly, and it didn’t take Steve longer than a second to figure out she wasn’t talking about his display of chivalry over the chair.

“Gross.”

Katie looked up to see Emmy was sat next to Tony as the pair of them stuck their fingers in their mouths, miming being sick before they cackled and shared a hi-five.

“One day you’re gonna grow up.” Katie looked at her brother over her wine glass.

“Hmmmn, not so sure.” Pepper said, dropping down in the chair next to him, Morgan in her arms. “Think this little one will grow up before him.”

“Erm, you can’t insult me, it’s my birthday.” Tony shot, looking round.

“He’s right, they’re the rules.” Emmy nodded, earning herself a fist bump from her Uncle.

“Cheers kid.” he smiled, and Katie rolled her eyes.

“I wouldn’t worry Kiddo, she’s thirteen this year right?” Rhodey leaned forward for his drink. “Soon be way ahead of his mental age.”

The table giggled and at that Tony pouted and announced it was time to fire up the grill for the food.

For the rest of the evening, Jamie spent most of the time being passed around the table for cuddles from his extended family. And Tony even took on a nappy change to give Steve and Katie the chance to continue eating as Jamie chose the most inopportune moment to kick up a fuss about needing one. It wasn’t until they later that night that they realised there was an ulterior motive for the helpfulness.

Steve was busy making sure Emmy was tucked in for the night, the 12 year old having slept most of the 45 minute drive back home, whilst Katie was getting Jamie ready for bed, trying not to wake him. She removed his little dungarees and t-shirt to reveal a small vest underneath and as she looked at it she felt the laughter bubble in her chest and she couldn’t stop no matter how hard she tried.

“What are you-…” Steve stopped and gazed down at his son, his eyes widening. Katie had tears pouring down her face as she glanced down at the small white garment which bore two simple words and a symbol; ‘Uncle > Dad’

Katie wiped the tears of laughter out of her eyes as she gently undid the buttons along the shoulders of the vest and carefully sliding it over Jamie’s head.

“You’re bother is an ass hole.” Steve looked at his wife, grabbing the vest and tossing it across the room in a display of annoyance.

Katie rolled her eyes, smirking as she picked up their baby and gently placed him in the cot at the side of their room. Steve wrapped an arm round his wife’s waist as she smoothed down the blanket and they both peered down at their son before he kissed the side of her head. She turned her face and captured his lips, the kiss deepening slightly as Steve pulled her to him, his hands strong at the base of her spine. Playfully he slid his hands down to cup her ass and she smirked into the kiss.

“Hands, Rogers.” she teased and he shrugged.

“I told you…” his lips brushed hers. “I like your ass.” “I like your face” she pulled back, causing him to laugh and look down at her.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, your big, stupid, handsome face…” she muttered, pulling him back down to her. In between the dizzying kisses Steve steered her towards the bed, and as her legs collided with the edge he stopped to gently trail kisses across her bare collar bone. With soft hands he gently undid the zip on her dress and he felt Katie hesitate slightly. She was caught in a whirl of lust and had been up until that point and now she realised she was about to be naked in front of him, and for some reason it freaked her out. Steve paused for a second, before his lips found her jaw and then all her reservations flew out of her head and she relaxed, allowing her dress to pool by her feet. Steve groaned and followed it down, dropping to his knees, his hands gripping at the back of both her thighs. His mouth gently licked the inside of her knee, making its way up her leg and Katie let out a shaky whisper of his name, her hands tangling into his hair as he moved his affections upwards slightly, skimming his nose across the waistband of her underwear, over her soft stomach. This time her gentle whisper became a loud groan which she stifled with her hand as he pressed his nose into her arousal, and she felt her knees tremble slightly.

“You ok?” he asked quietly, peeking up at her. She nodded and with a wicked quirk of his eyebrow he stood up, fast, hand still on her thighs so she went with him and he pitched them forward onto the bed. Then it was a scramble to get out of his clothes as fast as he could before he fell forwards again, back on top of his wife, his hands pulling down her underwear, lips kissing at the spot just below her ear. Katie was utterly lost now, lost in the sensations she hadn’t felt in so long and she tilted her head back, sighing softly as he continued to nibble at her neck, settling himself above her. His fingers gently dropped between her legs and he felt her slick against the tips as he gently coaxed at her clit, continuing until she was nothing short of a writhing mess clawing at his back, aching for him. They locked eyes as he took her left hand in his, and slowly worked into her, both moaning simultaneously at the sensation, Katie’s eyes rolling back at the stretch. Steve began to move his hips slowly, displaying nothing but absolute tenderness in his thrusts which weren’t measured in the slightest. His free hand kept hold of Katie’s hip, keeping her as close as she could possibly be. 

A gentle breeze from the night air which blew through the slightly open window ruffled his hair and Katie wound her right hand into it, pulling him down to kiss her again as he kept his lazy thrusts aimed perfectly on her spot. Given that it had been over three months since their last time, it didn’t take them long at all before their releases were creeping to the forefront. Steve’s senses were on fire, and he broke the long, lazy kiss that they were sharing to stifle a moan against his wife’s cheek when he felt her clench around him. The sheets rustled underneath and around them both as their pace continued slow and languid until the very end when Steve saw his wife’s head tip back, her throat bared to him in utter bliss as she came hard, her moans soft and breathy. Steve gave a low grunt which morphed into a gasp as he clung to his wife as he spilled himself into her, his hips slowing to a stop as he collapsed forward. Katie gave a soft chuckle as her hands gently slid up his back and into his hair, as she moved and pressed a soft kiss to his head. 

“You’re gorgeous.” he said, voice muffled as his face pressed into her neck, and she felt herself flush and grin before he moved to look at her, before he caught her mouth in a sweet kiss.

******

July 2020

“What are you two up to?” Katie asked as she walked into the kitchen to see Steve and Emmy looking at the laptop one morning just as Steve handed Emmy his card.

“Buying something…” Steve said.

“What?” “You’ll see.” Emmy glanced up. “In time.” Katie rolled her eyes, she had a horrible feeling this was to do with Steve’s return shot after the whole vest thing Tony had pulled just over a month or so back. And she was right. On Steve’s birthday the perfect revenge was taken when the Rogers hosted a gathering, similar to the one Tony had held.

There was plenty of Asgardian mead shared between Thor and the super soldier that night. They got louder as the night went on, Thor telling him about another brew he had on the go and inviting him to New Asgard to be part of the testing panel. Katie wasn’t completely sure that was a good idea but she couldn’t help but admit that pissed Steve was one of her favourite Steve’s, and she enjoyed watching him cut loose once in a while. At one point he took the boys and Natasha to see his recently furnished ‘man cave’ which was basically the cabin next to the pool house, which now held a couch, a TV, stereo and his art supplies along with a desk. They men spent a while looking at his latest project which was a pencil sketch of Emmy and Jamie sat on the lawn before returning to the group, topping up their drinks.

Natasha, Tony, Pepper and Morgan were staying that night, and when it started to get late and the thirteen month old was dropping asleep, Pepper took Morgan into the spare room they were sleeping in, emerging with the highest tech baby monitor available, of course, which linked directly to FRIDAY. About an hour or so into it Katie saw Steve and Emmy disappear inside, the pair of them whispering.  She watched them go and when they came back about five minutes later, Steve simply raised his eyebrows at her, grinning. 

Later that night when, after Morgan had been making some soft noises, Tony went to check on her and the 5 of them who were left heard Tony on the baby monitor. “son of a-“ his mumblings were followed by a loud fit of laughing and Pepper frowned. Steve and Emmy exchanged a look of glee and soon Tony emerged back onto the patio area of their garden, Morgan balanced on his hip, the dark haired tot wearing a bright blue Captain America hat. Steve reached over to hi-five Emmy as he raised his glass to Tony, giving him a slightly tipsy smirk.

“Now we’re even.”

“Oh if you think I’m leaving it there Spangles, you’re very much mistaken…” Tony said, sitting down with Morgan on his lap. “Just you wait.” And wait they did.

*****

October 2020

Steve walked in the door to a barrage of noise. Lucky was flopped out on the floor in the hall and simply gave Steve a look which he was convinced was the equivalent of an eye roll and he knew why, Jamie was screaming blue murder. He was teething.

“Hey sweetheart.” Steve smiled, dropping a kiss to Katie’s cheek before he gently laid his hand on the back of his son’s head. His cheeks were flushed from the teething and his little face was stained with tears.

“I don’t know what to do!” Katie looked up at Steve, utterly lost. “He’s been like this all day.” She felt useless. Nothing she did had helped.  And the more he cried, the shitter she felt as he was in pain.

“Let me take him for a while.” Steve offered. “You should be getting ready to go out.” She pulled a face, and Steve frowned. She had been invited on her first night ‘out’ since having Jamie, with Brooke’s mum Jennifer and a few other mom’s from school. Well, it wasn’t strictly out, it was a few drinks and snacks at the coffee bar for one of the lady’s birthday but still, it was a change to let her hair down and she had been looking forward to it. 

“I don’t know if I can go, not with him like this.”  “Yes you can.” Steve looked at her as she gently bounced Jamie in her arms.

“But you have Emmy and Brooke to watch as well.” Steve snorted “They’ll be in the den in sleeping bags watching movies and eating crap all night. As long as I provide them with pizza and a constant supply of popcorn I won’t see them”  He gestured with his hands and Katie passed Jamie over, and instantly he looked up at his dad and broke into a teary smile.

“Oh, that’s just fucking typical.” Katie threw her hands out to the side “I sit here all day, you walk in and after 5 minutes and he stops.” Steve laughed and looked at her, as she scowled. “I’m sure he’ll start again soon. Now go and get ready. Go on.”

With a last look at them both she headed out into the hallway and up for a shower. When she came back down an hour or so later, having taken her time just because she could, she found Steve in the kitchen making himself a coffee whilst Jamie sat in the highchair, chewing on a frozen teething ring. He grinned up at his momma who dropped a kiss to his head, all tears and tantrums forgotten and Steve turned to look at his wife, a smile crossing his face. She looked stunning in a simple pair of tight jeans, a white silk vest top and black blazer with three quarter length sleeves. She’d bought the outfit especially, after finally getting down to a size she felt comfortable at thanks to stepping her training back up making use of the pool and their gym. She had changed shape, there was no getting away from that, and Steve doubted that any amount of training she did would take her back to her SHIELD Agent size, which he didn’t give the slightest shit about anyway, but what was important was that she didn’t seem to care anymore. Her stomach was more or less flat again, even if it was a little softer than before, but her hips were bigger, giving her more of a curve, which Steve loved, grabbing her ass every chance he could do. There was also the added perk that, even though she was down to one feed a day with Jamie being on solids, her boobs hadn’t shrunk much, remaining two cup sizes bigger than they had been. Another thing Steve found pretty damned fine about his wife’s post-baby figure. What he loved the most though was that she was comfortable with herself and it showed tonight as she grinned up at him and gave him a twirl. He aimed a playful swat at her ass before he pulled her close and dropped a kiss to her lips.

“You look great.” he smiled and she blushed, giving him a kiss back before they heard he door open and voices echo in the hall.

“Get a room.” Emmy said as her and Brooke emerged into the kitchen. Steve arched an eyebrow and made a meal of pulling his wife closer as Brooke whooped and Jennifer, who had come to drop the girls off and pick Katie up gave a wolf whistle. Katie laughed and stepped back, shooting Steve a look that almost had him hard right there as he knew full well it meant he was in for a good night when she got back.

Emmy opened the fridge, and Steve looked at her. “Yeah there’s nothing in there, we’re getting pizza.” “Sweet.” Emmy said, exchanging a hi-five with Brooke, handing her a soda.

“No wonder she likes coming here so much!” Jennifer laughed again as the two girls headed back into the hall.

Steve smiled and leaned back against the counter, “Katie’s the cook, not me.”

“Don’t listen to him.” Katie rolled her eyes, picking up her phone and dropping it into her purse “He just can’t be bothered.”

“Don’t blame him, it’s Friday.” Jennifer said, as Katie dropped a kiss to Jamie’s head again before she turned to Steve.

“Don’t wait up.” she winked, and he laughed, because he knew full well he would.  

*****

At the end of the month Emmy turned 13 and was overjoyed with the new bike, clothes and phone she got, but was most overcome with the party Steve and Katie let her have in the pool house, the parents supervising six of them from afar as they splashed about in the water before Katie fed them all burgers, mac and cheese, and enough sugar to keep them wired for a weekend. Emmy had cried again later that night, never having had a proper birthday party before and thanking them so much it made the pair of them tear up slightly too.

The start of November brought the time they’d been equally looking forward to and dreading- Jamie started crawling. And he was fast, possessing Ninja skills Natasha was extremely proud of. Steve and Katie, aided by Emmy seemed to spend all their time running after him and poor Lucky was the target of his affections as Jamie used to love pulling his fur or ears. In an attempt to give Lucky some peace and to prevent any mishaps, Steve erected baby gates all over the house which were small enough for Lucky to leap over if he needed a fast escape, but they confined their little Carpet Terrorist to the room he was in.  Naturally, Jamie hated them, and would sit and scream in frustration when he couldn’t follow his parents and sister freely, and Katie couldn’t help but laugh one day as he sat by the gate which separated the living room doorway from the hall, gripping the bars and screaming as she and Emmy headed to the kitchen to make lunch. Steve was stood behind him, arms folded, shaking his head, a huge smile on his face as he chuckled.

“He looks like he’s in jail!” Emmy laughed as Steve swooped him up into his arms, blowing a raspberry on his belly instantly making all the tears vanish. At that point there was a sharp ringing in the hallway, indicating someone was at the drive entrance. Emmy headed to the screen.

“It’s a delivery driver.” She said, pressing the button to open the metal gates. Steve nodded, following her, Jamie still in his arms. Katie continued into the kitchen and was joined a moment later by the three of them, Emmy carrying a small box.

“Any idea who it’s from?” Katie frowned as she pulled the items out of the fridge to make sandwiches.

“No return address.” Steve said, as Emmy pulled open the box. She glanced inside and her mouth made a small O as she pulled out the stuffed American Eagle toy that was inside, but then dropped it harshly as it started to sing. There was a pause, as the “Star Spangled Man With A Plan” theme tune blared round the large kitchen from the stuffed animal, and then Katie started to laugh as did Emmy and Steve dropped his head and gave a groan.

Katie’s phone began to ring and she pulled it from her pocket, grinning as she saw it was Tony.

“Ahhhh you got it!” He laughed, clearly able to hear the noise on the other end of the phone.

“Where on Earth did you find that?” Katie snorted.

“I made it, well, I made the voice box.” he sniggered “I told him to wait…Tony Stark 2, Spangles 1”

Of course, Jamie loved his latest present. And every time Steve made an attempt to hide it, he would scream blue murder. Mind you, Steve wasn’t sure what was worse, the constant screaming or the damned song emanating from the fucking toy.

“I really, really hate your brother.” he groaned one evening at the end of November as he was sat on the floor trying to coax Jamie into playing with one of the other hundred toys he had, the infant simply refusing.

“I told you not to start a war.” she sighed

“I didn’t start anything!” Steve said indignantly “He started it with that damned vest!”

“Well if you retaliate it’s gonna keep on going, you know what he’s like he’ll…oh my God, Steve…” she trailed off her mouth dropping open as she watched Jamie who had crawled to the side of the sofa and was now attempting to pull himself up. They both watched in awe as their baby grasped the side of the cushion in his hand and used it as leverage to get to his feet where he stayed for a second or two before his knees gave in and he crashed to the floor with a loud thump, his diaper clad backside hitting the carpet. There was a pause where they both waited for the ensuing scream, but it never came. Instead he gave a loud shriek of laughter and went to try again, Steve recording the second attempt on his phone, all thoughts of revenge and stuffed eagles flew out of his mind as he watched his son hit another milestone.

Jamie had a sudden growth spurt heading into December, meaning he was more than ample size for his age, much to Steve’s relief and delight, and all three of them noticed that he was incessantly chattering and although it was complete gibberish they often found themselves answering back. Emmy was best at this, Steve and Katie one Sunday afternoon hid in the doorway, stifling their laughter as she held a full blown conversation with the nine month old whilst they watched the lion king.”

Jamie screeched and Emmy looked at him.

“No that’s Simba.” she pointed to the screen.

More ineligible babbles.

“Nala, and that’s Zazu.” Another noise, this one a little softer.

“Yeah, he will in a minute. Not for a while though. He’s gotta go to the elephant graveyard first.” Emmy shrugged.

Jamie giggled, gesturing with his arms.

“I know, right?” Emmy rolled her eyes “Stupid thing to do, should stay on the pride lands.” A string of gibberish escaped Jamie’s mouth and he looked at Emmy with an expression on his face, just like he had said asked her a serious question.

“Well, no, I mean a lion could take them but man, those hyenas are sneaky.” At that she looked up to see her parents watching from the door and she shrugged.

“He still talks more sense than you” Steve grinned, earning himself a scowl in response ***** “It’s wonky dad.” “No it isn’t!” Steve said, standing back to look at the Christmas tree.

“Yes, it is…” Emmy sighed. “She’s right.” Katie grinned, where she was sat on the floor, Jamie stood in between her legs, using her fingers which she held out to support himself on his legs, bouncing up and down.

Steve stepped back and gave a groan as he saw it was, indeed, leaning to the right. After a bit of a reshuffle scattering more needles on the floor he finally righted it. Katie watched as father and daughter shared a hi-five before they set about digging the decorations out of the two boxes at their feet. Katie was happy to leave them to it shouting the odd direction and the time came for the star and the big switch on.

“You wanna put it on again Em?” he asked and she nodded eagerly. She took it in her right hand and, despite her being taller and bigger than the year before Steve easily lifted her off the floor, hands on her hips so she could drop the star onto the top of the tree.

“Ready?” she asked once her feet were back on the floor, as she ran to the socket on the floor.

“Hit it!” Katie grinned, standing up and swooping Jamie along with her so he was propped on her hip.

“3-2-1…” the teenager gave a count down before she flipped the lights and the tree came to life. “Awesome!”

She moved over to where Katie was stood and reached up, bopping Jamie on the nose who gave a smile in response. He was fascinated by the lights on the tree, his eyes going wide and he let out a loud noise of approval, reaching both his arms out towards it. The decorations on the bottom two branches lasted approximately twenty minutes until Steve and Emmy hastily moved everything up out of his reach.

The family spent Christmas Eve afternoon with Tony, Pepper and Morgan (who was now fast into her toddler stage being eighteen months or so old) but their first Christmas as a four was spent at home, with Natasha joining them. Jamie doted on his Auntie Nat-Nat, a nickname Steve had given her, one she faked disgust at, but they knew she loved it.

They all exchanged gifts, giving Natasha a chunky silver chain bracelet which Katie had spotted as they were shopping not long ago, which made her tear up, and a framed photo of her and Jamie from Jamie, obviously, along with a box of her favourite sweets carefully selected by Emmy.

It wasn’t long before they got a call from Tony.

“I’m gonna kill your husband.” he said, and Katie frowned.

“What…”

“Morgan, she won’t leave the damned toy shield alone.” “What toy shield?” Katie asked. Hearing the exchange Steve looked up, grinning and she locked eyes with him, as he shrugged innocently.

“The toy shield that was in the pile of gifts you bought her, well she’s just thrown it straight at Gerald, the poor animal is traumatised!” Katie let out a sigh, rubbing at her forehead and out of the corner of her eye she saw Natasha, Steve and Emmy share a three-way-hi five, and she couldn’t help but smirk at the sight.

“Tony Stark 2, Spangles 2…” she grinned. “Merry Christmas Tone.”

It turned out, however, that Natasha wasn’t about to let Steve get away completely, and the solder groaned where he sat with Jamie on his lap as they opened one of Jamie’s last gifts from his god- mother, which was a teddy bear wearing a Captain America shirt and a little plush shield, not unlike the one Steve had won Katie at Cony Island. Nat raised an eyebrow at Steve as Katie choked on her glass of wine but Jamie shrieked as Steve tried to take the bear off him for a closer look, ignoring the hundreds of other toys he was surrounded with.

“Jamie, that’s Cap.” Nat said as she sat on the floor, taking the bear from him and rubbing it gently in his face causing him to shriek with laughter. Steve simply shook his head and handed his son over to her.

“Suppose its better than that damned eagle.” he mumbled as he sat next to his wife who was opening the gift from Natasha to them. Both of them looked down at the photo frame which housed a number of pictures, some of which Katie and Steve didn't even know existed. They went as far back as the first battle of New York in the shawarma joint, where they were both laughing at something. There was one taken in a bar in DC that Katie could remember, one of them cuddled up on the balcony of the tower, then some taken with their knowledge like a particularly nice one where Kate was sat on Steve’s lap on one of the couches at the tower during one of Tony’s parties. There were a few pages of their extended family as well, including Thor, Natasha, Clint, Wanda, Sam, and right bang in the middle was a photo of Steve, Katie, Emmy and Jamie, taken at Steve’s birthday in the summer.

“Nat,” Katie croaked, “it’s…”

“Fantastic.” Steve smiled, looking at her from where he had settled on the arm of the couch, arm extended along the back.

“Well, I saw the one in the hall and figured you could do with another to go with it.” Nat smiled, shrugging their thanks off as she referenced the large frame that Katie had made for Steve all those years ago.

Their newest photo collection was hung by the side of the already existing one the very next morning.

Everyone had warned both the new parents that time would fly by, and as they welcomed New Years in, this time as a five with Natasha, sitting in the garden all wrapped in blankets round the fire pit, both Katie and Steve realised that nothing else could be more truthful. As the fireworks erupted across the Brooklyn and Manhattan skyline, calling time on 2020, and Jamie’s first 9 months of being alive Steve pulled his wife closer and she turned to face him.

“Happy new year handsome.” she whispered.

“Happy new year baby girl.” he replied softly, dropping a kiss to her lips.

 Tags

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[nonsensicalobsessions]

Liam the Scientist: A Symphony without Strings Song

“Papa? Can I talk to you?”

Tom put down the script and proposal he was reading to look at his son. Liam was standing in the doorway of his study, looking uncertain and nervous, which was not like his six year old.

He took off his glasses, and extended his arms. “Of course, son. Come here.”

Liam didn’t hesitate, and scrambled to throw himself into his Papa’s inviting arms. Papa had big, strong arms, and gave the best hugs, ever. Aidan was great, his hugs were great too...but nothing was better than Papa’s hugs. Liam was secretly convinced the reason that Mama was better, and staying better at long last, was due to Papa’s hugs.  Because honestly, if you looked long and hard at it like Liam had, Mama didn’t get any better at all until after she and Papa found each other again, and once Papa spent all his time holding Mama, and giving her all his hugs, she got better, and stayed better.

Science. It wasn’t as soul-satisfying to him as music, but it was just as real. Aidan and Mama had taught him lots about science all his life, since Mama was always seeing doctors and trying new ways to get better. There were THE-O-RIES, which was the science word for the idea you wanted to test out. And there were VARI-A-BULLS, which were the things that you would mess around with to try to get your idea to work. It was all very exciting, and interesting, and Liam really wanted to get his hands on some science and start experimenting right away. But clever Aidan was quick to let him know you didn’t always have to get your hands dirty. Aidan said if you were quiet, paid attention, and asked questions, you could learn a lot. 

So that’s what Liam always did.

So that’s why he needed to talk to his Papa now. He needed to figure something out. He understood the...THE-O-RY, but not why it wasn’t working. He’d asked Aidan, but Aidan had suggested he talk to his Papa instead.

(Aidan’s exact response had been to choke on his root beer float he was enjoying (they had just made them, it was a LESSON IN MEASUREMENTS) and say, “I...think you would get a better answer from Papa Bear on this one, Liam. Being as this is a more...personal question than just a scientific investigation, the variables are likely to be more...variable.”)

Liam nodded solemnly. That made sense. So he had set his root beer float on the counter, slid off the stool, and headed straight for Papa’s Study. Papa’s Study was where Papa went when he needed to read, or work, or learn his lines, or just learn stuff. There were lots of books, it was almost like a library. If the door was shut, Liam knew not to both him unless it was an ENMERGENCY. Papa was always ready to be there for him in that case. ENMERGENCIES could be anything to being sick, or hurt, or scared. But if the door was open—as it was now—then it was okay to talk to him. 

Still, Papa had his glasses on. He was reading. Liam knew he himself didn’t like getting yanked out of his books when he was reading his stories, or learning stuff. It was annoying. (Liam loved that word, “annoying.” It described everything from being pulled away from his beloved books to rapid-fire scale drills on the piano to having to get his ears checked. He wasn’t a baby! Just because he kept getting those dumb ear infections...! Mama just wouldn’t leave him alone!)

Tom cuddled the warm, sturdy body of his son in his arms and marveled anew at the curve ball that life had unexpectedly thrown him a year and a half ago...having a son still blew his mind and took his breath away, just as waking to Merry’s lovely face every morning still brought him to his knees in utter joy. Liam was everything he could have dreamed of and hoped for in a child—healthy, intelligent, compassionate, witty, adventurous...He loved the way Liam was coming to him now with his little boy problems, big and small, rather than relying on Merry and Aidan for everything...

“Papa, where’s Mama?”

Tom frowned as he looked into Liam’s inquisitive, but slightly anxious face. “Mama’s asleep, Liam. She will be for awhile. You remember how we traveled into the city for her checkup and didn’t get back home until quite late last night? All of that makes her quite tired. Why? Is something wrong?”

Liam shook his head even as he answered, “Nooo.” Mama was very firm on this point, that nonverbal answers to Papa, or any adult, was disrespectful, and not to be tolerated.

Tom gently guided Liam’s chin upwards, so he could look into Liam’s eyes, so much like his own, although the color was the same blue as his mother’s. “Liam, what is it? I can tell you’re worried about something. Let me help you. It’s what Papas do, you know...” he gently teased, trying to coax a smile from the boy’s face.

It worked. Liam’s face was regaining some of its normal animation.

“Would you like to go for a walk? We could go feed the ducks.”

Liam’s face fell again. “Papa. I read it isn’t healthy to feed the ducks like I’ve been doing. I might be making them sick. Bread isn’t good for them. So me, Mama, and Aidan...”

“Mama, Aidan, and I,” Tom gently corrected, tickling his son as he picked him up and put him is his lap, secretly thrilled he could still do this. Please don’t grow too quickly, son...

“Oh. Yes. Mama, Aidan, and I are getting special duck food. We found a recipe and are making it ourselves! Mama and Aidan says it’s another LESSON IN MEASUREMENTS. So I can understand metric, imperi’l, and United States custom’ry standards,” Liam informed him absently, examining all the things on Papa’s desk top that he must never touch. Not because anything would hurt him, but because Papa had things just like he wanted them. Mama talked to him about respecting Papa and his belongings. Mr. Luke told him privately that if he moved them, Papa might have a hard time finding them again because sometimes Papa couldn’t find his nose without a mirror. Liam was pretty sure Mr. Luke was teasing but he looked really tired when he said it.

“That’s a mouthful,” Papa said mildly. “Do you understand what that means?”

“Not ‘zactly,” Liam answered, not concerned in the least. “It’s something about the different ways to measure stuff. Mama’s and my country does things one way, yours might do it another, and Europe another. Why can’t everyone do it the same? Seems pretty silly to me.”

Tom laughed and hugged his son again. He remembered when everything looked so simple to him, so straightforward. Liam’s eyes saw life so clearly. He should try to do the same, especially when his head started aching like it was this morning.

Merry was still in remission, thank God. It had been a long and trying few days, complete with a bone marrow extraction. He loathed seeing her tired and in pain. Something wasn’t quite right with her, necessitating another trip to Sloan-Kettering, and she was due for another checkup soon at any rate. Dr. Kelly swore Merry’s malaise was not due to leukemia, and promised to ring them as soon as she figured out the cause of what was plaguing Merry and making her feel so exhausted and ill. She refused to admit how much these checkups took out of her, but last night she fell asleep on the way home, and remained asleep while he carried her to bed. She slept through the night without waking, but she was restless, often moaning softly, sometimes crying out as she would move. Worse still were her agitated mumblings...

“Tom...sorry, so sorry...”

“Merry, you’re fine. Nothing to be sorry about, my love. You’re dreaming. You’re in my arms, in our bed. Everything is fine. Relax, sweetling.”

“No, no, no...won’t leave you...won’t leave Liam...”

“Darling, you are still in remission. Do you hear me, still in remission. You just saw Kelly today and she said so. Kelly said you are fine. You’re having a nightmare, Merry. I swear to you, everything is fine. I have you, Merry. I love you...”

He felt her begin to relax slowly as he stroked her hair gently and continued to murmur soft words of reassurance.

In the morning’s light, he looked her over carefully. Her color was good, and her breathing was deep, and even. But as he peeked at her body, he could see all the bruising from the bone marrow extraction biopsy, and bloodwork, a partial explanation of her poor sleep.

He’d slipped carefully from their bed, crept downstairs to grab a much needed cup of espresso. Nothing else would do. Soon, Aidan joined him. Once they’d reassured each other that all was well in their offbeat little family, Tom grabbed a quick breakfast, and retreated to his study to whittle down the stacks of scripts and proposals that were creating a listing tower on his desk, and then his floor. They’d been adding up, and his agent was getting a bit shirty about it.

It was difficult to focus, though. Some were obviously discards, to the point why they’d even made it into his hands was a mystery. Snippy sticky notes were created on the rejects: “Who approved this?...Did I have to waste my time looking at this?...Did anyone vet this or did it just walk into my house?...REALLY?!...Not if I was on my last farthing. If we still used farthings...I would sooner play Thanos’ bastard love child than be attached to this project...This script has all of the depth and profundity of a puddle of piss outside a bar.”

He always threw the notes away before returning the scripts, but it felt so cathartic just to write them. He could be as creative and snarky as he liked. No one would ever know.

Struggling to remain somewhat focused while worrying about Merry was the perfect brew for a thumping headache, so when Liam’s voice beckoned from the doorway, Tom could not have been more pleased. Having his son in his lap, hearing his voice, listening to his thoughts...Tom could feel the pain slip away. This, this was what he needed.

“Papa? Can I...I mean, I want to...I mean, may I ask you a question?”

“Always, Liam.”

Liam squirmed, and Tom tried not to wince as Liam’s bony posterior pinched a sensitive area. “Liam, you seem quite...ah!...fidgety. Would you like to sit on the sofaaa...instead?”

“Papa, you’re funny. You’re making your voice all squeaky.” 

Tom felt his grin was more of a rictus but Liam’s beaming smile was not something he wished to lose. “Funny, yes, that’s me...” He stood, and carried Liam over to the sofa that once upon a time he used to sometimes crash on back when there was no one to notice, or care, if he fell asleep reading away from his bed. It was somewhat battered, but comfortable, and Tom refused to part with it. When he had somewhat defensively told Merry this when they were creating their first home together, she had looked at him in surprise. “Tom, keep whatever you like,” she’d said. She’d cared not a whit it wasn’t the latest style or it had seen some use. He wanted to keep it, so that was the end of it.

Tom examined Liam from the corner of his eye. Liam had all the hallmarks of a little boy who desperately needed to talk about something, but didn’t know where to start or what to do with himself in the meantime. Not that Tom knew anything about that from personal experience. Oh, no. He didn’t have this issue now, when speaking with Merry or Liam, either, of course. He was an adult, with excellent communication skills. It’s simply that he recognized what his child was experiencing.

Hiding a smile, Tom fished out two items from a box he kept on the top shelf of one of his bookshelves. Every year, he always received at least one gag gift from at least Luke, if not more friends and family members, usually marketed specifically as fidget toys. Before there fidget toys per se, there were things meant for children who had difficulty just remaining still. Tom was notorious for this. His hands were constantly restless, pulling at his clothes, rubbing his face, his hair, his skin...it drove Luke to despair at times. Tom kept the toys hidden away simply because he didn’t think any of them were suitable for Liam’s age when he and Merry merged households. But now...

“Ooooh...Papa, what is that?” Liam’s eyes were as round as saucers, and his entire countenance was fascinated.

“Something to keep your eyes and hands busy, while your mind thinks,” Tom explained quietly as he showed Liam how it worked. “See, you can flip these little cubes like so...and then you can make different shapes...it’s called an infinity cube. You just keep flipping, and folding...it’s great for building up finger strength, too.”

“Why do you have more than one?” Liam was busily working with his with both hands as he also watched Tom manipulate the one in his hand. Tom was amazed how large it looked in his son’s hands, next to his own...

“Just do. They were presents.”

“Oh, and you didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. You’re so consid’rite, Papa.”

“Thank you, Liam.”

Tom casually flipped his cube about, keeping a close eye on Liam.

Finally, Liam ventured, “I’m not a baby anymore, Papa, I’m really big now. I’m six. Going on seven. Going to school and everything. Aidan says he had to get a job at my school because he just didn’t know what to do with himself, not because he didn’t trust me or anything.”

Tom made the appropriate noises.

“And I know how babies are made.”

Tom choked. On his own saliva. Staring fiercely at his own cube.

Liam looked up, his cherubic face innocent. “Are you all right, Papa? Do you need some water?”

“No,” Tom wheezed. “No, I’m fine.”

Liam nodded, and went back to his cube.

Tom was never so grateful for all of his years of training as he was at this moment, for he was able to keep his voice nonchalant, or at least not nearly as tense as his chest felt at the moment. “So. Ah. You were saying. How babies are made?”

Liam’s head shot up. “Papa! Don’t you know?”

“Yes! Yes of course I know—” Tom spluttered, helplessly.

“I should think so,” Liam replied, his attention going back to his cube, a bit confused himself.

“You’re here, aren’t you?” Tom was now feeling decided off-center. How was this conversation even possible? He was awake, there was no alcohol involved, and God damn it, where was Merry?! Did Aiden somehow set him up for this?

“What I was trying to ask,” Tom tried again after another awkward moment of silence had passed, “was what you know, and who had told you. You see...” he paused, and set the cube down to run his hands through his hair, then rubbed the back of his neck, tugged at his shirt collar, and finally leaned forward the rest his forearms on his thighs to peer closely at his son’s face. “This is the kind of talk that fathers usually have with their sons. So I was wondering who had jumped ahead of me.”

Because yes, it stung. Just a little. Or maybe a lot. Or maybe he was relieved?

No. Relief was not what he was feeling at the moment.

Liam looked up from his cube, oblivious to the turmoil he was putting his Papa through.

“You weren’t here, Papa. So I asked Mama, and she esplained it to me.”

Ah. Well, at least he could trust Merry...but goodness, he would have thought she might have clued him into this little developmental detail...

“Papa, is Mama all better now?”

Tom stifled a sigh. This question was harder than the baby one.

“Liam. Son, we’ve discussed this...”

“But Mama just saw Dr. Kelly again, and Dr. Kelly said she was okay. You said so.”

“Yes, I did. And she did. And right now, Mama is doing wonderfully well.”

“And Mama has never ever been well for this long.”

“No, she hasn’t. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“So, maybe she’s all better, forever, right?”

Tom took a deep breath. “Liam, we certainly hope so, but it’s difficult to say for certain.”

“But what if she is?”

Another deep breath. “Okay, Liam, I can see you are trying to get somewhere. Let’s pretend and say she is. Then what?”

“When will you and Mama have more babies? Because if Mama isn’t sick anymore, and now that you aren’t lost anymore, there can be more babies, right?”

This time, Papa could not hide his wince, and his sadness. Liam was very surprised to see this, he thought this would be a happy discussion. Babies always made grownups happy, as far as he could tell. Little kids, or even big kids, such as himself, that was more of a toss up. Liam himself wasn’t so sure how he felt about it. But. If there were more babies, then Aidan might have to stay home with the baby, and Liam really didn’t know how he felt about that either.

Here were the facts. Mama was well. She had never been well for so long. Papa was no longer lost. There were no new babies, nor signs of any being expected, as far as he could tell. 

There were a lot of VARI-A-BULLS at play here.

Liam just wanted to know what was going on, and what to expect.

“Son, it’s not that simple, I’m afraid.”

Liam set his cube down to make sure he didn’t miss a word. Tom was well aware that Liam’s quiet patience was something he inherited from his mother, as he stumbled through his explanation.

“You see...that is to say...Mama won’t...she can’t...”

“I can’t, what?”

Oh thank the blessed heavens.

Merry was still looking tired, but was smiling at both of them from the doorway. Tom stood immediately. “Darling. What woke you?” He strode to his wife with the quick stride he always used where she was concerned, wrapping her in his arms, and pleaded, “Help me,” in an impassioned whisper in her ear. He felt her lips twitch as she gave an imperceptible nod in return.

Mama was still in her dressing gown and slippers. Papa guided her to the sofa, his arm firmly around her waist. “Kelly rang just to check up on me, making sure we made it home safely. She reminded me to keep taking all of my vitamins. Apparently I am still fighting an infection somewhere because of my blood count but it is mild, so it could be anything, so I should push fluids and rest for the next few days. It could be anything, she isn’t concerned, so you can’t be either, Mr. Hiddleston,” Mama was explaining for Papa, whose face looked like he was trying not to worry but was worrying anyway. Papa’s face did that sometimes where Mama was concerned. Liam knew that.

“Too late,” Papa muttered.

“Tom.”

“Merry.”

“Mama? You’re not getting sick again, are you?”

Liam’s plaintive voice drew both adults’ attention back to him again. Mama’s face softened. “No, Liam. There is no sign of the leukemia, isn’t that great news! I’m a little low in some of my vitamin levels, but that is easily taken care of, so nothing to worry about there, and once that is past, I am certain I will be feeling much better.”

“Then maybe you can have more babies, after all!”

“Oh...is that what’s going on in here?” Merry looked over Liam’s head to find Tom nodding slightly.

“Liam, I’m afraid not.”

“But, why not?”

Liam’s voice was sounding decidedly grumpy and put out with this information.

“Remember how we talked about how babies are made?”

Tom’s cheeks began to turn pink. “Merry? Wouldn’t you like some tea? Or hot chocolate, I think that sounds lovely...”

“No, thank you, Tom...as I was saying, Liam...Babies are made from some of the mother’s DNA, and half of the father’s remember?”

“Yes!”

“Well, I’m afraid all the medicines I had to take really messed up Mama’s. Now I can’t pass it along. That part of me doesn’t work right anymore, and never will. It’s just the way it is.”

“Oh...does that make you and Papa sad?”

Merry gently explained to Liam that while the loss of the possibility was a sadness for her, Liam was such a gift she was perfectly happy and could never ask for anything more. Tom’s head was spinning. Merry’s conversation with Liam about “how babies were made” was about genetics? And not about...? He wasn’t off this hook after all...that is, he hadn’t been robbed of the wonderful bonding experience of explaining...

“Papa?”

He looked up to find Merry mouthing “Say something!” And Liam looking at him patiently.

“Forgive me, Liam,” he said humbly. “I was lost in my thoughts. Ask me again please.”

Liam giggled. “Mr. Luke says you get lost in your head a lot!”

“Mr. Luke says a lot of silly things like that,” Merry deflected.

Liam continued. “You’re not sad, are you, Papa?”

“Good God, no,” Tom replied immediately, scooping his son up into his lap again, bony bits be damned. “Liam, I never dreamed to be blessed with a son like you and now that I have you, wanting more just feels...greedy.”

“Like the ducks?”

“Worse than the ducks. Ungrateful and selfish. Having a baby is hard work for a mother’s body, and your Mama’s body has been through enough. She’s more than earned a rest.”

“Mama, you should go right to bed,” Liam proclaimed. “Papa and I will bring you hot chocolate.”

“No, I don’t have to...”

“Oh, I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Tom concurred.

“But I don’t want to go back to bed, I just got up,” Merry protested. “I feel just fine!”

“Doctor’s orders,” sang Tom merrily. He loved it when Merry walked right into a cleverly baited trap.

“You hafta listen to Doctor Kelly,” Liam solemnly intoned. “She and Papa’s hugs made you get all better. Please, Mama. She will be so annoyed if you don’t.”

“Dreadfully annoyed,” Tom agreed, his face and voice a mirror of their son’s. Oh, Liam was aiding and abetting, this promised great things for the future...

Merry’s expression was promising dire retribution in the near future, however. She stood, lips pressed together in a thin line. “I can’t fight both of you,” she sighed. “But my body is just fine, thank you very much.”

Tom winked in lascivious agreement, just in time for Liam to ask, “Papa, how would having a baby hard be hard on Mama’s body? And how ‘zactly does the Mama and Papa DNA mix, anyway? Mama never esplained that part to me...”

Merry’s lips curled into a smile.

“Yes, Papa. Do feel free to explain that part to him while you’re making the hot chocolate.”

Tom felt the trap spring shut.

Damn it.

tagging: @hopelessromanticspoonie @yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @vodka-and-some-sass @winterisakiller @theheartofpenelope @sabine-leo @fruitfly123 @wegingerangelica @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @jessiejunebug​ @alexakeyloveloki​ @scorpionchild81​ @tinchentitri​ @theoneanna​ @blacksuitofdoom​ @mishaandthebrits​ @rjohnson1280​ @ms-cellanies​ @noplacelikehome77​ @villainousshakespeare​ 

[amwritingmeta]

15x05: How to Fight God

Proverbs 17:3 --> The crucible for silver, the furnace for gold, but the Lord tests the heart.

This proverb really gets to me when looking at it in the light of 15x05, but also when looking at how it relates itself to the series as a whole, because our boys are going through nothing short of a trial by fire, their whole world and sense of self is beginning to take flame and that sounds poetic af, but it’s also so fucking poignant that I can’t even. 

Because isn’t this what their whole journey has been? And what it’s been about, too, meaning that the trial by fire serves an actual purpose, the get rid of the impurities (if you will) while the actual trial isn’t by fire, but lies truly in the aftermath, in the lessons and the learning curve: the heart stuff.

That aside, of course, applied to 15x05 it’s quite literally God testing their hearts - and what they’re really made of - by throwing them a proper curve ball in Lilith, not to mention this revealing the fact that he’s still a presence. 

We open on Sam, who’s checking his phone to see if Cas has finally replied to all the concerned texts Sam has sent him (my heart leaped I loved it so much!) (of course Sam wouldn’t not reach out) (and amazing that Cas literally decided then and there to walk out the door and he just removed himself entirely) (also - poor Sam!) (he lost a friend!!) and Cas hasn’t gotten back to him.

Buuuut!

Cut to the end of the episode and Sam is just hanging up from having an actual conversation with Cas. Sorry, this was me remembering this entirely wrong and not double-checking - it went straight to voicemail and is clearly stated as doing so, pls, ignore my ignorance!

There’s still a nice, subtle bookend here, and it still underscores the change we get from the opening scene to the closing: the brothers both believing they’re back to business as usual (with the difference of how now they’re actually holding the reins) vs. realising God isn’t gone and that the status quo is not something they can fall back on here.

Speaking of the status quo, the way things have always been, the saving people, hunting things, family business side to the brothers’ lives that is, as far as they’re concerned, the cornerstone of their identities... yeah, let’s speak of that for a bit, because if we look at the episode I believe the status quo, or perhaps the repeat patterns, is/are actually the answer to the question Dean finishes the episode with: 

How do we fight God?

So then.

How To Fight God

This is basically speculation based in my meta reading of the episode so pinches of salt, loves, but it’s intriguing to me to think about what the rules of this world actually are, because this is GOD the CREATOR, right? Yeah.

How can you, the puppet, defeat your puppet master when your puppet master determines which of your strings are pulled at any given moment? 

Well, firstly, I’m stuck on the exchange between Dean and Cas from 15x02:

Cas: You don’t think I’m angry? After what Chuck did? After what he took from me? He killed Jack. But that doesn’t mean it was all a lie. [...] Even if we didn’t know that all of the challenges that we face were born of Chuck’s machinations, how would we describe it all? We’d call it life, because that’s precisely what life is. It’s an obstacle course. And maybe Chuck designed the obstacles, but we ran our own race, we made our own moves, and mostly we did well with that. Dean: Did we? I’ll tell you what we do know - nothing about our lives is real. Everything that we’ve lost, everything that we are, is because of Chuck. So maybe you can stick your head back in the sand, maybe you can pretend that we actually had a choice... I can’t. Cas: Dean. You asked what about all this is real -- we are.

I mean technically Dean didn’t ask anything, he stated that nothing about their lives is real but alright I get that you want to break through, Cas, because this is Cas trying to make Dean understand that not everything has been pre-determined by Chuck.

If free will didn’t exist at all in the narrative, then there would be no room for any kind of stakes, emotional or otherwise. 

If it didn’t come down to what choices each situation brought about and the lessons derived from the consequences of those choices, then the meaning of the character journeys would be completely nullified. 

And these rules of the world we’re watching are most clearly demonstrated to us in the S14 season finale, when Dean makes that epic choice of not shooting Jack, effectively ripping up Chuck’s perfect ending and forcing him to go all mental deity on a power trip on all of their asses. 

So Cas is clearly right in the above exchange, but Dean can’t hear it, and because Dean just refuses to listen, Cas sees no other choice but to leave in 15x03. Because all Cas can see is how Dean refuses to let go of old patterns of thinking, old hang ups and fears, and how Dean finds refuge in blaming an external source rather than gaining perspective, accepting his own level of responsibility (in any situation) and moving forward. 

I’m very curious about the prayer and what level of exposition it will entail. Imagine it being an actual callback to the confession scene in S11, where the exposition of Dean’s internal struggles with his longing for more is so beautifully balanced. Anyway, digression.

What I’m getting at is that choices seem to play an enormous part here, and of course they should, because that’s one of the most prominent thematic threads the writers can pull on. 

Our choices make us who we are. 

It’s not what you are, but what you do. 

No one can tell you who you are, you choose who to be.

And along these, all the times we’ve heard I didn’t have a choice. Often this has been true, when put in a situation that is about not only saving each other, but the world itself as well, but then those world-saving situations wouldn’t really have been brought about if Dean, that first time Sam died, hadn’t made the choice (echoing Mary) to sell his soul to save him, and, of course, none of the choices would’ve been necessary if Mary had let John die, but we know the world that would’ve brought about, so thank...... fate for bad choices.

Perhaps it’s time for good ones.

How do you fight God?

I think you fight him by breaking old patterns, and the only way you can break them is by recognising them for what they are and truly, definitively, moving out of them and into new ones. 

Chuck represents the writer not keeping up with their own character’s progression, right? He’s not seeing what this world he’s created has actually become, without his influence. All he sees is what he wants it to be, rather than all that it is, and he believes in his own control to the extent of not adjusting the obstacles he’s throwing at the boys to their ever evolving view of themselves and what they want for themselves. 

Which is why the plot point of Dean being seduced by Lilith wasn’t even hinted at until she stated, in dialogue, that apparently it wasn’t happening. Thanks to Dean’s progression away from who he was way back when, yeah? Not exactly the same, are you, Dean? 

And which is why I believe the moment when Sam says-->

--> is quite possibly crucial, because Sam can see the pattern, he knows the grooves of it so well that he immediately feels something is off when they’re just handed the solution on a platter, and this hunch proves right, because they know how Chuck’s story works, innately, they’ve lived it for over a decade. 

If they can catch up with this fact, if they can begin to use it to their advantage, that would be very cool. If they begin to go against their old mode of being, if they try to think outside of their own box (as it were), then not only is that a viable way of beating Chuck at his own game, it sets the stage for their final leg of character progression rather beautifully. 

Because it forces them to grow wholly self-aware, to question their choices and weigh the pros and cons. Realisation City. 

And how gorgeous then to have the setup be that to survive and have a healthy sense of control over their own lives, they must evolve away from their old ideas and ideals. *fingers crossed*

And then there’s Chuck as representative of the over-arching shadow, representative of all those things that the boys have battled throughout their journey, and if integration is the goal, then Chuck shouldn’t really be reaped by Billie, should he? I mean, him being reaped by a representative of strong, assertive femininity works on a symbolic level as well, but integration could mean that he simply has his power stripped. 

I’d quite like that, to be honest. The way to fight God is to stop worshipping him, stop believing in what he represents, stop allowing his obstacles to be real obstacles and simply move out of the narrative he’s been telling and into a new one, where his chosen ending makes absolutely no sense. And if Jack returns there may be a player with enough power to actually tell God that his time as ruler of this particular universe is done, because they will fight him, now that they see him for what he truly is. Every step of the way. 

Alright, lots of speculation here, but the thought of the brothers’ progression actually playing a role in how they can defeat Chuck makes me get all goosebump-y! 

The werewolf brothers acted as a Chuck tool of foreshadowing for his chosen ending: one brother killing the other, but there’s a deeper psychological symbology in the werewolf brothers’ story, where one brother’s control and deceit made the other see no other choice but to kill him and then himself, because they were the same. 

So looking at them as representative of the codependency, it’s actually the aspect of control and self-deceit that has to die, in both Sam and Dean, for the codependency to finally break. Sam leading the way (as per the water bottle scene at the start of the episode) and freeing them both in his process of breaking away from Dean. 

And when Lilith says that she had to die in order to get what she wanted, it could be seen as a statement of that same symbolic subtext, and how the brothers’ progression is moving them away from who they have always been, into who they truly are and want to be: they have to kill off their past ideas and ideals, and embrace the truth of this if they’re going to be victorious in this fight.

We shall see, my loves! We shall see!

I’d be remiss if I didn’t say this, though, to a writer who has given us so much:

Thank you, Steve Yockey.

For everything.

[evien-stark]

✧I Need You✧ Chapter 107

Tony was more hurt than he let on, which meant you had yet another choice to make- or rather, a promise to honor. So it was Sam who led the charge on finding Steve who had gone completely radio silent as the last of the helicarriers plummeted into the river. You made a call ahead to Happy, while you were struggling in the uncertainty, to ask him to meet you at the hospital. And it was an hour later- a whole sixty excruciating minutes, when you had just loaded a battered, bruised, broken, bloody- and obviously concussed Tony into the back of an ambulance, out of his suit, that Sam finally spoke. 

“Found him. He’s on the riverbank a mile south.” 

The doors of the ambulance closed and you rode off, hand in Tony’s as he drifted, something in his IV for the pain. You put your other one to your ear. “Condition?” You knew every one of your teammates was listening in. You were just the first one to ask. 

“Rough. But. Not dead. His shield is missing, too. If that matters.” 

Tony murmured a response in a daze, “Probably at the… bottom of the river- we’ll have Damage Control fish it out-” 

Setting a hand over his forehead in a gentle caress, you tried to urge some peace over him. “It’s alright, just relax.” 

He eased almost immediately, eyes fluttering closed as a long breath escaped him. “I love you…” 

It was strategic- not petty (you told yourself) that you made sure the ambulance was taking you to a hospital outside of SHIELD’s network. Already your phone was blowing up- Ellis. Not a good sign. There was no telling what the other side of all of this was going to look like. It might have served you to not ignore him, but… Tony was more important. It was hard to focus on anything else. Especially yourself. You were damaged, too, and tired. Ready to lie down for a long ten hours in a dark room but… 

Tony needed you. That was what really mattered. So you waved off the EMTs and told them to stay focused on him. As he fell further into a light doze just as they took him off the stretcher and into the hospital, you coordinated with the team to get everyone down to the same place, while they stitched and bandaged him up. There was no doubt in your mind that everyone needed some sort of medical attention- Steve most of all, it seemed like. 

Sam had said rough, but when you finally saw him in his own private hospital room, he looked like he’d been beaten nearly to death. In his unconsciousness, as you stood in the doorway, you felt the tremors of deep sorrow. Pain that went beyond physical. It was hard to face him. Hard to look at him. What had stopped that monster from killing him, you wondered. Clearly he’d been seconds from doing it. Maybe it was a simple explosion that took the whole helicarrier down. Maybe he’d beaten Steve into unconsciousness and assumed throwing him into a large body of water would finish him off.

...maybe Steve had hung in there and not died long enough to prove his point. Who could say. All you knew was something drastic had become of all of this. Steve had some different deep facet of him now that had had you two quarreling. It might not have been the best for you to hang around.

Sam was sitting at his bedside, the entire time that he’d been brought in, even as you stood there, and you knew he’d continue to sit there, still, until Steve regained consciousness. “You’re okay here?” Asking as you crossed your arms. Defensively. Feeling a sense of unease looking at the man lying in that bed. 

“Yeah. Don’t worry about him. Go do your thing.” 

Steve attracted all manner of good people to him. He was lucky, in that way. Otherwise it might have been wrong to ask someone you’d only met- was it… yesterday? ...in too short a time, anyway, to look after him in this condition. “Yeah. Thanks.” Turning to go away, a quick thought occurred and you looked back at him. “If you need them to look at you- Stark Industries is taking care of the bills so-” 

He waved you off. “Don’t worry about all of that right now. You seem like you got a lot on your plate.” 

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. President still waiting for you to answer. “And a lot more coming.” Their private rooms were separated- not on purpose, but Tony’s was a few doors down. You peeked in, seeing him still asleep, and decided not to wait. It would only get worse from here. “Yes, Mr. President. What can I do for you?” Voice tired and bitter. 

“Do for me? You’re out of your mind. What your people just did- what’s on the internet right now- we’re in full meltdown mode over here. Congress is having an emergency meeting- and you- how are you gonna clean this up? There’s so much damage from this- lasting damage- they wanna… they wanna make an example out of SHIELD.” 

You tried not to collapse into a chair outside Tony’s room, but your knees gave out all the same as you sat, curved in on yourself, and put a hand to your forehead. “To save their own asses, I know. You don’t have to tell me.” The United State government was never going to let anything come for them, no matter the mistakes they made. No matter that SHIELD was a government organization. They were a secret one, and now that the cat was out of the bag, they’d do whatever they could to downplay their involvement. 

And make martyrs of you all. Because it would be expected that the Avengers- that SHIELD’s people would come and defend it. Die on that sword. No matter the cost. You’d have to defend yourselves, right? Your actions? 

“They’re going to serve subpoenas. There’s going to be hearings for months. They’re talking about jail time. Life sentences.” 

“And what about you, Matthew. What are you talking about? What are you going to do?” His name would no doubt appear in more unredacted debriefing reports with your name labeled next to his. Times when he called to ask you- to ask Stark Industries and SHIELD- and the Avengers for help. What were his plans? 

“You tell me what your plan is. And then I’ll figure out where we’re going from here. We have a small window to make a statement. Get ahead of this- well. Not ahead. Your people saw to that.” He sounded pretty angry. 

And if you weren’t so drained, you might have been, too. At him. Down the corridor you saw Happy walking briskly, two laptops under his arm. “We did what we had to do. I don’t know if you’ve ever taken a history class in your life, but Hydra personnel had to be weeded out.” 

“I’ve taken many history and politics classes in my life. I’ll remind you I’m the President. I know who Hydra are. Don’t talk down to me.” It was a rare occurrence, to hear Ellis with bite in his voice. Threatened, perhaps? 

A headache was coming on. You tried to stay level. Fighting with him would yield no good results. “Well, then, sir, here’s what I suggest you do. Since you’re asking. I’ll start my staff on a pull protocol, and I suggest you do the same. Names are out there in flashing lights now. People will start to flee, and I’ve no doubt you have more than one rat on your sinking ship. Hydra are traitors to the nation. Lock them up. Make a scene. We’re all on the same side, here. SHIELD will only be collateral damage if you let them get away. An organization like that with nothing left to lose is full of very dangerous and desperate people.” 

There was a long pause on the other end of the line- strangely silent. Clearly indicative that he had you on mute while he barked orders at the staffers around him. When his voice returned, “Again- which is why- if you had this information- we should have worked together to-” 

“It wasn’t in my fucking back pocket, Matthew. They killed Nick Fury and then it all sort of spilled out from there while I was dodging fraudulent murder charges. You’ll have to excuse the sudden drop. It was the only thing we could do. And it had to be done. You’re not getting an apology out of me.” Hand holding a little tighter over your eyes as Happy came to a stop in front of you, you bit back tears. Now was no time to crumble. “I was glad… that your name wasn’t on that roster, sir.” President Ellis was still your ally. You had to keep him that way. 

He huffed out a strange noise. “Yeah. Me, too.” A resigned breath of air that might have been a laugh escaped you. “You’ve had a hell of a first term. Aliens threatening New York. Your VP tried to assassinate you. Now this… you’ve got more balls than anyone out there right now, sir. You can come out clean on the other side. Second term no problem.” 

“Yeah... I wonder… you ever thought about running for office? Lots of unprecedented shit happening right now. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders. You were built for this stuff. ...I might need a real VP next term. Someone I can trust.” 

“I’ll tell you the same thing I told the last man that asked me to run his kingdom for him: no.” 

“Who was that?” “Tony Stark.” “Ah.”

“I paid you a compliment, you paid me one. We’re done here.” He sighed. “Alright. I’ll get to work. You do, too. And I’ll… I expect I’ll call you again soon.” 

“Yes, sir. I expect so, too.” The phone hung on that mutual quiet until he disconnected the call. You let your phone slowly down to your lap and then looked up at Happy who was gazing sadly back at you, although he lifted one of the  laptops in a small gesture. “Thanks. Here- I need you to pair with JARVIS and run the Hydra leak list. Any Stark employees on it need to be rounded up. I need you to secure the suit and load it on the jet- jet needs to be prepped for departure. ...preferably soon. And… keep an eye out, here. Badges on. Easier to see names that way.” Weakly smiling up at him. It was a long and tough to-do list, but if anyone could do it, it was Happy.

He couldn’t return the smile. Instead he gave a slow nod. “I’ll get to work. You can count on me.” 

“I know I can. Thank you, Happy.” 

A beaten but tough looking blonde woman was charging down the hall loudly, and the both of you turned to look at her. Happy immediately put his arm up to stop her in her tracks. “Hey- private hall. ID? You got a name?” 

“Sharon Carter. Check it. Is Rogers- he’s alive- right?” 

Taking no chances after all this, you activated your visor. “LUNA- check database on Sharon Carter.” 

A compiled list ran through your vision, but as her picture ran back, a green check stamped over it. “She’s clean, ma’am.” 

You nodded with a drop of your head after, giving her a weak wave through. “He’s alive. Two doors down on your right.” She didn’t even look at you as she moved around Happy to continue on her way, quietly you called to her- “Hey- if you need medical attention- stay in this wing. Stark Industries will cover you.” Former SHIELD employee. Probably needed a new health care provider. 

She barely stopped, hand on the handle of Steve’s room. Meeting your eyes for all of two seconds, nodding, and then disappearing into the room. More pressing things to worry about, you supposed. 

Looking up, you caught Happy peering through the window to Tony’s room. Checking on him. When he got caught he held his hand out to you. Without thought you put yours in his and he hoisted you up. “Go. Be with him. Rest. You look pretty beaten up, too. I’ve got this.” 

While you wanted to at least thank him with a smile, you couldn’t even muster that anymore. Instead just a weak pat on the shoulder before turning around to go into Tony’s room, closing the door quietly behind you. He was still deeply asleep on the bed, and you stayed there in the middle of the room, looking at him for probably a little too long. 

The twinge of white-hot pain in your chest prompted your feet to move, turning towards the bathroom after discarding the laptop on the table by his bed. Taking off your shirt, you were greeted with the sight of soaked through bandages, wet and red, wound no doubt open, and probably had been for a little while now. It was almost a little bit of a relief to know that your sudden drop in energy wasn’t from a sense of soon to be defeat, or the prospect of cleaning all this mess up. 

No it was just blood loss. Well that was something, right? Taking them off in one painful strip after the next, and the half dissolved gauze and pulled stitching over the bullet wound, you were left with rough patches of blood covering your chest, welts, and bruising- and the bullet hole. So near to your heart. Just oozing steadily. 

Bending forward, clutching the sink, your head dropped, and breathing became a little harder for the next few minutes. Trying to keep it all together. When you were able to look up into your reflection again, something dark was staring back at you. A shadow of yourself, behind which was that vast plane of unknown space that tethered you to the only thing that really qualified you to be here. 

And now- perhaps- that very thing was being exposed to a billion strangers at once. What would this do to Stark Industries? To Tony? Now that the world could see you… what would you do? What would you have to do? 

This thing inside of you, that let you look inside everyone else… that was the reason you’d ended up in this exact spot, wasn’t it? SHIELD had found out about you because of it- and you’d used it to get the very job that had ended you up helplessly and painfully in love with the man sleeping in the bed outside. 

The face looking back at you seemed so different from your own. Was that even you? What did you even know of yourself? How had you come into contact with this piece of the unknown? Why had it laid dormant inside you until you were old enough to know the exact right and wrong ways to use it- and still used it to end a man’s life- vile though he was. Wasn’t that where this started? Was it just a penance? A price you were paying? Staring into those unrecognizable eyes you saw that glow. Briefly. It fought off the wisps of black. Breaking through the shadows that had covered your face until you were standing there. Just… looking at you. 

Facing yourself. And everything you’d become. You saw something strange in your own eyes. Something unfamiliar. Something lurking there. Something you just didn’t know. 

How much more of yourself could you expand? How much more would you find out? If you continued to train, to hone, to use these powers, whatever they were, what would happen to you? What would you turn into? What would you be able to do? 

Who were you? 

A groan in the room ahead cut your attention. You were so unimportant in all this. And in the next moment, you saw yourself sitting beside Tony’s bed. Just waiting for him. Hands cradling his. Holding him steady. Comforting him, while he dreamed. 

It was where you blinked yourself back into awareness. No telling how you’d gotten there or how long you’d been sitting there for. When you’d put your clothes back and if you’d even repatched yourself. Just holding out for him. A soft knock at the door drew your attention, and Happy leaned in to place a stack of clothes on the chair by the door. “Thought you two would need something to change into. ...the press is gathering outside. They’re looking for a statement. I can have the cops come but- they’re kinda busy. Won’t be for a while.” 

“Thank you.” Murmuring, finding your voice a little lost. “Just let them stew. I’ll talk to them when I’m ready.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

You let go of Tony only long enough to change into the zip up Stark Industries hoodie and black jeans that Happy had left. It was nice to have a fresh change of clothes. Tony had something similar waiting for him, whenever he was up and ready to go. Part of you almost wanted to ask Happy to get something a little more upscale- since you’d be addressing the media as soon as you stepped outside but… 

Maybe this was okay. It was okay to see you battle-worn and tired. You might have been Avengers but you were still people. Maybe it would help your case, to appear a little more common. Not like battle was no big deal. Not like none of this mattered. It did matter, and you were bruised. You weren’t gods- well. Except for Thor. The rest of you were mostly just people. Enhanced or not. 

The light of the laptop as you sat down at Tony’s bedside again was practically blinding. The room was in the lowest possible lighting allowed so that he could rest, and the sun had gone down a little while ago. While it only made the headache worse, it made you ultimately feel better to be able to give him this small amount of time. Emails were piling up- as always. Your first point of attention was gathering up a subsection of Damage Control. They’d need to be on this- probably a few hours ago was when they should have started. 

So. Already late. There was now SHIELD tech in the river and on the highway that would need to be cleaned up wholesale and stored. Probably destroyed. Which presented another problem. Control’s storage capacity was nearing max, so you then had to reallocated a hefty amount of funds to okay a new set of units. Eventually you’d have to go down there and see what was going on. Find out what needed to be stay and what could be discarded. Because god knew no one could do anything right without you around. Considering what was in those units… probably for the better that you handled it personally. 

Next was setting up a hospital fund for your team- and the SHIELD employees who now found themselves shit out of luck due to current events. With the way Ellis was talking, it was pretty clear they were about to dissolve SHIELD at best. And at worst, try to start handing out jail time to everyone who worked there. That was a lot of talent to waste, and a lot of lives to ruin. Which is exactly why they were going to do it. And exactly why you couldn’t let that happen. 

So you started drafting a SHIELD to Stark Industries Open Arms Transfer initiative email. Funny, how a few months ago you were badgered by Fury over stealing one of his employees. Now you’d have almost all of them. Pending their allegiance. Which begged the next to-do… what of the people who still flew Hydra’s banners? You supposed that was up for the government to decide. Technically everything they’d done was treason. This effort would be time sensitive… maybe it would be in everyone’s best interests to wait until you got word back from Ellis how bad the fallout would be. 

So the OAT initiative went into a secure email to you, Tony, and a few other trusted individuals for review and processing. Pending the result to all this madness. 

It was in the middle of writing up notes for the inevitable press briefing that would have to come- sooner rather than later- that you felt your attention growing short and your eyes getting heavy. Head back, sitting uncomfortably cross-legged in the chair next to Tony’s bed, you were dragged into an uneasy and unwilling sleep. 

Deep down under you were called closer by the light of Tony’s distant, warm dreaming. And far away you sensed the looming dark clouds of Steve’s nightmares. One name, repeated over and over- Bucky. Louder and louder until it threatened the small well of peacefulness you found in sheltering by Tony’s side. So much so that you imagined yourself covering your ears and willing it to stop. He was in pain and it was killing you. Slowly. Like twisting a knife- 

It was the pain in your chest that woke you first, followed swiftly by the sharp call that indicated Tony had said this a few times prior, “Honey.” When you came to you were drenched in sweat, breathing heavy. And he was sitting up in his hospital bed staring at you. Worried down to his core. “I’m- I was just… having a nightmare. I think…” Trying desperately to catch your breath. “I just need a minute…” Feeling the shiver of panic receding a little too slowly. 

He reached out, setting a hand over yours. Comfort was close. “Take your time.” 

That was exactly what you did, excusing yourself to the small bathroom to splash some water on your face- check that you hadn’t started bleeding again. Instead hoping for the alternative- healing would have been nice. But it didn’t feel like that was happening. Stress related? Running on empty? Who the hell knew. There was so much about yourself you didn’t understand yet-

And you couldn’t risk going into that spiral again. So you simply didn’t. Instead you finished your little alone time and came back into the room to see Tony on his feet, putting on the clothes Happy brought. It would have been standard to tell him to slow down. He’d gotten the crap kicked out of him, had been fired on by multitudes of heavy machinery, and had been knocked unconscious and fallen out of the sky, but… it was a little beyond that at this point, telling him to slow down. He wouldn’t, and more importantly, couldn’t. Same as you. 

Instead you just walked over to him and wrapped your arms around his middle, burying your face in his chest. He returned the embrace, strong arms coming around you, head resting atop yours. Another close call. Another few scrapes with… not death but… best not to think about it. This week had been pretty much hell. Like all the big ones before it. When this shit happened, it was always in such a small span of time. No rest. No breaks. Just nonstop carnage and running until it was over and the two of you- and your team- were lucky to be out alive on your feet. 

When more than a few minutes had passed, and the two of you were still clinging to each other, you had to be the one strong enough to interrupt the only good part of your life at that moment. “Press is outside. I issued a briefing on the schedule in the media room for tomorrow.” 

“Good. I wanted to go home, anyway.” 

“I set up a couple of things- funds for the team and the SHIELD agents who got hurt…” 

“I trust you.” 

“So we just need to check out, get into a car and not take questions.” 

“Sounds easy enough.” 

Which meant it was anything but. Hospital staff gave the both of you a stern talking to, something neither of you were listening to. There was just no time to be lying around in a hospital bed right now, democracy was kind of falling apart. Though you made a promise to yourself that you would have Tony in bed tonight, and the night after- if you could help it. He needed to take it easy. And he’d have to have his hand held in order to do it. 

But after you signed just the right amount of documentation in order to be let go, and Happy escorted you from the hall and outside, regardless of the early morning hour, the press had camped outside. Waiting for this moment. They all called. Screamed. Took pictures. Waved recorders and microphones. Happy parted the bodies like a break in the sea, and held the door open for the both of you to the waiting car. 

In unusual order, you helped Tony in first, and almost allowed yourself to feel a sense of relief, knees practically about to give out so that you could sit next to him. But- you at least had to hold up a hand. “We’re issuing a statement tomorrow at Stark Industries. Ten AM. You’ll get everything there-” 

And, as with all things, something bad had to happen. Right then. To you. To Tony. Christine Everhart and her pleasant smile- cameraman pushing people out of the way as she stumbled up to you and held a microphone up. “WhIH news- would you care to comment on the coordinated government cover up of Obadiah Stane’s murder so that you could assume control of Stark Industries?” 

Shock rode threw the crowd heavily and very suddenly all eyes were on you and every other voice in the area died. Waiting. Waiting to hear what you had to say. It wasn’t a good look, to be caught like that. Kind of like a smack broadside to your face. It left you standing there wide-eyed with no air in your lungs. “What- what did you just say to me?” 

“We’re live- by the way- and our viewers want to know how you and Tony Stark got away with murdering Obadiah Stane so that you could take control of the company- and why the government was involved- what do you have to say? Is it true that he and Stane had animosity towards each other that led to the murder?” 

There were few options here. You could tell her that you would address it tomorrow. You could deny it. You could say nothing at all. But after everything, after all this time- and especially right in that moment-

You let the heat of anger ravage you. “That’s outrageous.” When Tony’s voice lit up behind you, you held a hand up to stop him and turned fully, your back to him, to cover him. Shield him. Not this. They would not take him on this. But you? She could have you. And you’d make her regret it. And when she tried to counter you started in, “No- shut- just shut up, Christine.” The shock riding the people surrounding the area was of a much different color then. 

That debriefing report, so long ago now… you’d only read it once. But you knew of its existence. And of course that was the very first thing she’d picked to fixate on. 

You narrowed your eyes at her. “If you had even bothered to read the twenty other pages sandwiched between the buzzwords you skimmed for your headline, you’d know that Stane was a traitor. He was selling weapons to terrorists- for years- the same terrorists he paid to kidnap and kill Tony. And when that didn’t work, when Tony built a defense suit to get out of there, Obi smiled and laughed and played it off. Meanwhile trying to rebuild that suit so that he could sell those, too.” 

When she opened her mouth you held up a finger to her, “I’m not finished. Since you couldn’t be bothered to do the reading, we’re not done with the re-education yet. When he couldn’t figure out the power source, he tried to murder  Tony in his own house- and then when I, along with a few government agents, came to arrest him on our property, he tried to murder us, too. Ten people. He went after us, he hurt civilians on the highway, and tried to kill Tony. A third time. 

He wouldn’t have stopped there. So look me in the eyes right now and listen to me when I say this- because you want me to say it, right? I flipped the switch that was responsible for Obadiah Stane’s death. I did it. And I’m not sorry.” Waiting, catching you breath before finishing. “I was acting not only in self defense, but in the defense of others. In defense of this country. He was a war profiteer, a tyrant, and a treasonous snake. And, again, if you’d bothered to do any reading that didn’t just suit your own interests, you’d know that neither Tony nor I were working for SHIELD at that point. They pulled the cover-story. We had no say in the matter.” 

You leveled the hardest look you could manage and expelled the last on a stern tone. “You keep coming after me so much over matters like this it makes me wonder whose side you’re really on. But let me tell you this, don’t you dare insinuate Tony threw Obi under the bus for me. Tony did what he had to- to protect people- like he always does. And I did what I had to, to end it. And I don’t regret any of it. We’ve met a lot of men who just want to crush everyone beneath them. And we’ll never stop protecting people who are innocent in all this. No matter the cost.” As the crowd started murmuring, you held a hand up. “We’re done here.” 

The calls for attention were so much louder now it was almost deafening. You just barely kept  from collapsing into the car, holding steady until Happy closed the door and then got in on the other side to drive off. In that time, Tony’s hand had found yours, holding tightly, eyes ahead. 

His voice was low, when he found it. “You didn’t have to do that.” 

“There’s gonna be a lot of things I don’t have to do in the coming months. But I will.” That report was out now- something you hadn’t even given thought to. Only worrying about yourself and your powers. Strange, that she hadn’t brought that up. Then again, murdering Obi to take over the company was a little more interesting, you supposed. “I’m not gonna let her say whatever the hell she wants- I’m not gonna let them try and destroy what you’ve done- what you’re doing.” 

Tony was a good man. He might not always have been, but he was trying, now. You saw him on his worst days. And his best ones. You saw him trying. Always trying. Always thinking, always working. 

His free hand lifted up, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear before cupping your chin in his palm and directing your face his way. The two of you shared a look. “Don’t let her get you upset over me.” 

“Not over you, for you. I’ll say whatever I have to say- do whatever I have to do- to defend you. To make it right.” Almost begging for him to understand a concept that you knew he was intimately familiar with. You would protect this man until your dying breath. You would defend him. Leaning forward, you rested your forehead against his. “I will always pick you.” 

The two of you were a team. Recent events had cemented that more than ever. You were on his team. You were on his side. Always. And you found peace in that. 

The corner of his lips quirked, and his hand slid from your face to tangle in the back of your hair, holding you steady there against him. “Does it help that I kind of loved listening to you tear her apart?” Joking, as always, in a tense moment. It at least encouraged a small breath of a laugh, a flutter of your eyes. His voice was quiet and warm when he spoke again. “I love you. And… if I could pick anyone to be in my corner… yeah. It’s you. It’s always been you.” Whether when you were just starting out ten years ago. 

Or five minutes ago telling Christine Everhart to go fuck herself. Yeah. It was always you. 

“I love you, too. We have each other’s backs. I’m never worried about you being on my side or not. And you shouldn’t be worried about which one I’m coming out on, either.” 

“For the record- I wasn’t. I’m just- ...it’s weird for me to be the one saying this, but there are moments where delicacy could be employed a little more…” Grinning lightly. 

“It was time for me to put delicacy aside. They don’t listen to that. But… I need help work shopping how I’m going to answer the inevitable questions about my powers- I’m worried- about the company-” The Board might feel different, knowing they had a literal manipulator working for them. Sister companies, investors, subsidiaries- there was no end to people who would have a problem with someone they thought  could control them. “I think… I might have to step back-”

“Don’t worry about that.” Said like he had not a care in the world over such a divisive topic. 

“I have to.” 

Settling back, he put his arm around your shoulder, and eased you to rest against him. An easy thing to do, despite the oncoming frightening future prospects. “I deleted those files, remember? Only ones who know about that are you, me, the agent that wrote it and-” 

“Yeah but what about all the other debriefs? What about the assessments? What about-”

“Gone. There’s nothing there.” It shouldn’t have stunned you, but it did. At least a little. When you stared at him a little too long, waiting for him to expand, he seemed to get a little uncomfortable. “I… had a deal. With Fury. Before any of this. If he wanted us to keep working for him, he had to purge all mentions of that stuff. You worry about me- and I’ll worry about you.” 

“Tony…” How were you supposed to feel about this? That you got off- alright, well, not scot-free, considering the massive blowout you’d just had, but… he’d had to go and ask Nick Fury for that. Probably from a position of weakness. But he’d done it anyway. To save you.

“No nightmare scenarios, remember? Not over that.” His arm curled around you a little tighter. “It’s my job to protect you. Until you want that out there, that’s nobody else’s decision.” Perhaps a wise move, although such an ironic thing to say, coming from Mr. I Am Iron Man. 

Curling in, you moved to rest your hand over his heart and closed your eyes. You were protected. Something you already knew, but… in such turbulent times, it was a newly and massively comforting thought. Because you believed it so strongly. Tony was watching out for you. And you would watch out for him. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too. We’ll get through this.” 

He was probably the only person on earth that you could make you believe that. 

[porkchop-ao3]

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 29)

A Family, Weakened

It’s time for some sad, guys. We all know what happens right after Arthur gets well enough to carry on working, right? So, this chapter contains character death, kidnapping, a lot of angst and suffering... Enjoy!

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

-

There was an odd transition when Arthur was fully healed. It took him a few weeks to get back up and about, and things were relatively uneventful around camp until that point; I spent most days doing chores with the rest of the women. But as soon as Arthur was ready to go back to working for the gang, a lot of things seemed to happen all at once. All on the same day. It was an awful lot to take in, but I found myself in a camp with a drastically different mood. Things changed, and it started with a job the Grays had told Bill about. He was heading into Rhodes with Micah, Sean and Arthur to meet them at the Parlour House. 

It seemed normal enough to me, I was used to Arthur going off with various members of the gang to do various illegal things, and I hadn't thought twice about it when I waved Arthur off to go and meet them. I'd sneaked him a kiss by the horses and told him I was glad that he was finally well enough to be back in his routine. 

Then, Bill returned, looking solemn, looking uncharacteristically thoughtful, and he'd told us that Sean had been shot and he wouldn't be coming home. Getting much detail out of him had been difficult, but Hosea managed to learn that he'd buried him somewhere quiet, and that it'd been quick. He hadn't suffered. The girls were quiet, none of them entirely sure what to say and although she put on a brave face, I could tell that Karen had been particularly shaken by the news. She'd sat way out on the edge of camp by the water and hadn't said anything to anyone. I couldn't bring myself to speak to her, as she exuded the aura of someone who wanted to be left alone.

Arthur had not yet returned and my chest ached as I was faced with the reality of his lifestyle. Though I felt terrible for it, I could barely think of Sean while Arthur was absent; of course, I didn't know Sean all that well. Arthur, though, meant more to me than I had ever imagined someone could.

It was naive of me to think that we'd hit rock bottom, that the worst had come and the gang could only grow from it, shaped by the loss and carrying on in the memory of a fallen comrade; eager to seek a better life so that his was not in vain. But the horrors did not stop there. Abigail had been marching around camp almost frantically, a frown wearing creases between her brows. When I approached to ask what was wrong I was initially prepared for the same response everyone else had given that day; I'm fine, I just can't stop thinking about Sean… perhaps a few stories about others the gang had lost before I'd joined and the general unrest brought on by a changing world that didn't have room for our kind. 

Instead; "have you seen Jack? I'm sure he's around somewhere, the boy is always wandering off, playing where he shouldn't be," her words were nervous, faux cheeriness failing to hide it. 

"No, I'm afraid I haven't. Have you checked down by the water?" I asked, a frown appearing on my face. 

"Why would you say that?" Her eyes widened just a little and her words came out harsh and scared. 

"No reason other than I know he likes throwing pebbles in the lake, don't worry, Abigail. I'll go and look," I gave a brief touch to her elbow, "have you checked all the tents?"

"Yes, but I'll look again. He's probably messing with me, hiding, or something," she shook her head and huffed out a breath before heading towards John's tent. 

I made my way down towards the lake, scanning the area, calling out Jack's name. A brisk walk up and down the edge of the water along the length of the camp and a bit beyond revealed no signs of the boy. I headed back into camp, stopping by Karen. 

"Hey, Karen–"

"If you're about to ask me how I'm doing, I'm fine! Sick of people thinking I'm some fragile, broken-hearted widow or somethin'," she spat at me, her arms tightly crossed over her chest, hands balled into fists. She was tense all over. 

"I know you're fine, Karen, you're a strong woman and I can see you're just looking for peace. I don't mean to bother you," I assured her, choosing to tell her what she wanted to hear instead of pushing her by begging to differ. 

She acknowledged my words with a grunt. 

"I was wondering if you'd seen Jack?" 

She finally looked up at me at that, her expression softening. "Jack? I haven't, actually, not for a while come to think of it," she told me and I gnawed on my bottom lip. 

"Abigail can't seem to find him."

"Have you checked the lake?" She asked with a morbid expression and I nodded. It brought her some relief, I could tell. 

"I'll help," she said, getting up to look for the boy. 

Checking in with a few other gang members had me getting worried, nobody seemed to remember the last time they saw him; unsurprising considering all thoughts had been with Sean since we heard the news. Abigail returned to me, I could see she was getting more and more concerned as time went on and I couldn't blame her one bit. I was beginning to fear the worst myself. 

"Anything?" She asked me. 

"I haven't seen him, I asked around and they don't remember the last time they saw him. Abigail–"

"What's this I hear about you asking where Jack is?" John appeared beside me, face hardened and his voice harsh. 

"Have you had him this whole goddamn time?" Abigail was quick to admonish him, jumping to conclusions and stepping into his space.

"What? No! I haven't seen him. Are you telling me you've lost our son?" John hissed back. 

"He's our son now? I can't be standing next to him at all hours of the day as well as doing things to contribute to the camp and not have Grimshaw badgering on at me. It'd be nice if you actually thought to acknowledge you have a son before he wanders off on his own somewhere and scares us all to death!"

"Please, this ain't no time for arguing. This ain't nobody's fault," I stepped halfway in between them, glancing back and forth at each angry face. 

"What's going on over here?" Hosea cut in, concern etched into his face as deep as his worry lines. He looked particularly tired lately, between Arthur's injuries and Sean's death, the stress seemed to be getting to him. 

"We don't know where Jack is, Hosea. He– he's gone. My son is gone," Abigail was beginning to border on hysterical and I reached for her, putting an arm gingerly around her shoulder in a bid to provide some kind of comfort. 

"Calm down, Miss Roberts, where did you last see him?" Hosea asked in a level voice. 

"I think I saw him by the horses last, but that was hours ago. This morning!"

"Alright. Try to keep calm, has anyone spoken to Kieran?" He began, and when nobody said they had he went to find him. "He's always by the horses, perhaps he can help."

"Oh my god, I can't believe this is happening. If anything happens to him!" Abigail lamented, it sounded as though she was trying not to cry. 

"Abigail, just take a breath, alright? There's no sense in working yourself up, thinking the worst. We'll find him," I did my best to console her, rubbing the spot between her shoulder blades. John had gone uncharacteristically quiet, watching Abigail with a soft curve to his brows. 

Hosea passed by quickly, Kieran close behind him. They headed towards Dutch's tent and the look on their faces made my stomach churn. I saw them speaking, couldn't hear much but I heard the word Braithwaite come up, and Abigail heard it too. She brushed passed me, out from under my arm and briskly headed towards them. I turned in time to see Arthur returning, Dutch immediately asking if he'd seen anything of Jack. He hadn't. 

I hung back as Abigail demanded to know where Jack was, to hear whatever Hosea had been in the midst of telling Dutch. I made my way over to Arthur, and we shared a worried look as Dutch implored Abigail to relax, promising that they'd find him. 

"Kieran saw a couple of fellers sniffing around, we think they were Braithwaite boys. I can only guess it's them that took him," Hosea filled everyone in. 

"They took him? They took my boy?" Abigail was no calmer despite Dutch's reassurance and my heart shattered for her.

My arm instinctively made its way around Arthur as everything hit me at once. First Sean, now Jack? I looked up at him, it being at the forefront of my mind that to Arthur these people were real family. He must've been feeling a million times worse than I was. 

"Are you alright?" I asked him quietly, and he peeled his eyes away from Dutch to look at me. He looked distant, a little dazed, like things weren't quite sinking in. At my words he came back, his eyes focusing a little more. 

"Oh, yeah," he mumbled monotonously. 

"Arthur, I'm s–" 

"Don't," he shook his head, a pained look in his eye. 

I closed my mouth and nodded. 

"I'll talk to you later," he told me, looking me right in the eyes. I stroked his back until Dutch turned to him. 

"Arthur, come on. We're going to get that boy back," he said, and I let my arm drop as Arthur moved to follow him obediently. "Micah, Kieran, you two keep guard. Shoot anyone who ain't welcome here." 

"Just heard about Jack. You need extra guns, Dutch?" Bill called out, approaching flanked by a number of other men from the gang.

"The more the merrier. And you," he turned to me, making my heart stop momentarily, "you and the rest of the girls, you keep Abigail company. Make sure she stays calm."

I nodded, watching as everyone mounted up, realising it was just about all of the men going to get Jack. The sight of it warmed my heart despite the harsh circumstances, it served as a reminder that these people were all out to look after one another. They were family, through and through. 

Once they'd disappeared into the treeline, I turned to Abigail who had her arms wrapped around herself, trembling, eyes glued to the ground. I closed the gap between us and put my arm around her shoulders, guiding her over to the campfire where the rest of the girls stood watching, all looking equally saddened. 

"You see that, Abigail? All of them fellers are going out after him, Jack is going to be alright," I said to her, sitting her down by the fire. 

"She's right. Nobody'll be able to hurt him with the whole Van Der Linde gang around to protect him," Mary-Beth agreed, kneeling on the ground by her feet. Karen, Tilly, Sadie and Susan all took a seat nearby too. 

"Keep your chin up, darlin'. That boy can't have gone far. The Braithwaites might be stupid but they ain't evil, I'll bet they have no intention of harming him," Susan said, reaching over to pat her knee. 

"Uhh, Mi- Miss Abigail? I'm… I'm sorry. I told Dutch about them boys hanging around, I never thought that this…" Kieran was on his way to stand guard but paused to offer a few tentative yet apologetic words. Abigail shook her head bitterly and he quickly scampered off, guilt oozing from every pore. 

Most people looked as if they didn't know what to say. Karen and Sadie just watched with an expression somewhere between dread and sympathy. Tilly was sat with her head buried in her hands. Molly stood the furthest away, looking concerned while not daring to come over and say anything. I was struggling too, I'd tried my best at comforting Abigail but I knew there was very little I could say to a mother who was missing her child. The best we could all do was stay with her and provide our support. Even Pearson, one of the few men who hadn't joined the others, came over to offer a few kind words and ask if Abigail wanted anything to eat or drink.

The hours the men were gone were torture, so cripplingly nerve-wracking and long-winded. I felt sick the entire time, so I couldn't bare to think how Abigail might be feeling. Jack was such a kind, quiet, sweet boy. I was sure no harm would come to him in the end, it would take a special kind of evil that I didn't believe the Braithwaites were capable of to harm an innocent child, but I still couldn't shift my anxiety over the situation. 

By the time they finally arrived back, it was late. Molly had gone to bed, Tilly and Karen were trying their damnedest to stay awake, Mary-Beth had failed and had fallen asleep curled up against the side of Abigail's chair. She was clutching a daisy chain in her hand, I remembered it from the night Jack and I had made it together; it was a little browned and shrivelled now, but I found it sweet that she'd kept it. Abigail herself, of course, was wide awake, and Sadie and I were too. I was tired but I was restless where I sat under the cover of the shelter by the fire, I'd taken to drawing to try and distract myself and pass the time. I drew Jack, or at least tried to without a reference, but I'd scribbled out the last two attempts so it wasn't going well. 

I discarded my sketchbook when the men arrived, though, immediately jumping up to my feet with the rest of the people by the fire. Mary-Beth sat up with a start, murmuring something incoherent before she woke properly too, and joined us all where we started crowding around the hitching posts. 

"Where is he? Where's Jack?" Abigail called out, eyes desperately trying to search for signs of him on someone's horse. 

"We think we know where he is, but it'll require a trip to Saint Denis," Dutch explained, sliding off his horse. "Don't you worry, Abigail, we'll get him back."

"So you keep sayin', but you're still standing there!" She cried, a weak sob following her words. 

"We've no reason to believe he's in immediate danger. Right now we need a moment to get our heads straight. None of us have slept, going all the way over to Saint Denis in the middle of the night, all guns blazing, is not going to achieve anything," Hosea tried to reason with her. "And you need sleep too, my dear, you'll run yourself ragged, staying up and worrying."

"You expect me to sleep, the way I'm feeling?"

"I expect you to try. Abigail, he is safe. We will get him back, safe, as soon as we figure out how to go about it."

"He's right, Abigail, you need rest," I tried, reaching for her. She shook my hand from her arm and stormed off with a loud sigh. I let her go, staring sadly after her.

"What happened with those awful Braithwaites?" Mary-Beth questioned. 

"We delivered what was coming to 'em," Hosea told us. 

"Burnt down their whole goddamn mansion, killed most of 'em," John elaborated bluntly, strutting past everyone towards his tent.

"Ain't a lick more than they deserve, the sick scum," Karen hissed, spitting onto the ground in distaste before walking away. The crowd gradually dispersed as Dutch and Hosea encouraged everyone to go to sleep, and I searched for Arthur. He was by his horse, giving him an affectionate rub on the neck. 

I gingerly made my way over to him, trying to make my footsteps audible so I wouldn't startle him. He glanced over his shoulder at me, stared for a moment, then without bothering to check if anyone was watching, he took my hand and led me over to his tent. He'd opted to keep the extra canvas up since his recovery, growing used to the privacy it provided. Letting it close behind us, he didn't bother lighting a lamp or anything, he just sat down on his bed and pulled me down to lay with him. It was a tight squeeze for sure, his bed being big enough to realistically fit one person, but we managed if we wrapped our arms around each other and pressed in tight.

We fidgeted a lot to get comfortable, and I must've asked about five times if I was hurting his shoulder, but he insisted he was fine. I didn't know whether to speak, I hadn't completely worked out what sort of mood he was in. I just held him, let him hold me, enjoyed the chance to be so close to him and surrounded in his warmth and safety. I figured I would say one thing, and let him make his mind up about where he wanted to take it. 

"I'm here for you," I whispered, "it's been a difficult time lately."

The camp was quiet, I couldn't hear a peep out of anyone for the longest time, it was so uncharacteristic. Usually there was something going on, Javier with his guitar, Uncle singing a song I didn't recognise, Pearson telling a story about his time in the Navy, Sean loudly laughing about something or another… My heart gave a sickly squeeze and I pressed my face into Arthur's shoulder, breathing in the smell of smoke and sweat that was much stronger than usual but brought me comfort. I thought he might've fallen asleep, but at my movement, he spoke. 

"Feels like it's getting harder and harder to just exist, people like us," he said very quietly. "Though I guess it's no one's fault but our own, we've been poking the bear an awful lot lately."

"Things are changing fast," I mused.

"Both of 'em knew we was playing them. The Grays luring us into that shootout, the Braithwaites taking Jack away. That poor kid, he ain't asked for any of this."

"You'll get him back."

"I know. But even so, he's just coming back into a life where we're constantly running. People around him dying, the only family he knows. That's no childhood."

I agreed with him, but I wasn't going to say it and sink his mood any more. 

"Sometimes I think about–" he stopped midway through his sentence, silencing himself abruptly. I waited for a moment, but it didn't seem like he was going to carry on. 

"About what?" I prompted, smoothing my hand over his back. He remained quiet for a few moments more and when he finally spoke again, it was in an almost inaudible whisper.

"About just getting out of here," he admitted, shocking me into more silence. "I couldn't… these folk mean too much to me but sometimes, I can't help thinkin' that all this is doomed, and we should all just quit while we're ahead."

"I can't pretend I don't see your point," I responded, blinking into the darkness against his plaid shirt. "Things feel so different since I first joined you folk."

"Jus' think; John and Abigail could raise Jack proper, make a life for themselves. Charles, he's a good man, he could do good things with his life. Maybe start a family of his own. The girls, they could have lives much safer than this one, have proper homes. I don't know about the rest of 'em, lot'a these folk would probably keep on living on the wrong side of the law, but for some…" he sighed sadly, squeezing me tighter and turning his head to press his lips against the side of my head.

"You think about this often?"

"Not till recently."

"And what would you do?" I asked, and he took a long while to respond. 

"Me? I'd… I don't know. This is all I've ever known. I'd probably try and live somewhere out in the middle of nowhere, somewhere far out from these more civilised lands where no one'd come looking. Though, I spent so long moving around so much, I don't know if I'd be able to keep still."

"Now that's a feeling I can relate to."

"So… maybe I'd go travelling, making money however I could as I went. Honestly, I mean. I'd just live on the move, never staying too long. Never letting civilisation catch up to me. Price on my head is way too high to ever be forgotten about, I don't think I'd be able to live a peaceful life in one place."

"It's that bad?" I murmured. I knew Arthur was wanted, I knew he had bounties, but I did not know to what extent.

"Yes. Real bad," he sighed, "but it's all well-earned, I assure you."

"So if you got out, you'd just have to live on the run anyway?"

"Probably. But maybe… if I travelled far enough, I might just be able to convince myself I was merely a wanderer," he gave a quiet chuckle, and we remained silent for some time. 

I spoke after a while, the question gnawing at my mind. "Would you spend the rest of your wandering days alone?"

"Well, that depends on what sort'a life you'd wanna carve out for yourself," he told me softly, bringing a hand to the back of my head and stroking through my locks.

"I wouldn't wanna do anything that meant never seeing you again," I replied. 

"So I guess… would you wanna join me? If you could stand spending the rest of your life running for my sake."

"Well, I've spent a long time moving around. I get restless being in one spot, running wouldn't be an issue for me, if you'd have me," I shifted, pulling back so our faces were close, even though I could barely see him. 

"I'd always have you, princess," he whispered. 

I pushed forwards to kiss him, adjusting as necessary when my lips met his chin in the pitch black of the tent. He kissed me back with a hot intensity that somehow remained tender, fingers tightening in my hair enough to tilt my head and make me melt into him, completely losing myself in the kiss. 

He broke the kiss when we were breathless, and my heart was pounding.

"Arthur I think– no, there ain’t no think about it, I know. I'm falling in love with you. Real hard," I whispered breathily, my fingers tightening in his shirt, my body pressing into his. In response to my words, Arthur made a soft humming sound, tilting his head under my chin and pressing his lips there. He kissed me a few times where he knew I wasn't ticklish before murmuring against my skin. 

"Don't matter what's happening, what's going through my head, the moment I kiss you everything goes away and all I feel is like I'm the luckiest man alive. I don't ever want to lose that. I'm falling for you as well, so fast I can barely keep up with it," he told me, his voice vibrating against my neck. 

My eyes closed and I let out a breath, my body humming away with a unique pleasure I'd never felt. 

"You're the most beautiful person I've ever known," he added, and I made a light, involuntary sound.

Arthur's hand wandered down my side, resting on my hip and squeezing there. I subconsciously lifted my leg and hooked it over his, bringing us closer still. I was struck with the urge to make love to him stronger than I'd ever felt before, intensifying at his pleased, hushed moan.

"I wish we were someplace else, I jus' want you so bad," I breathed. 

"Don't tell me that, I will ride us out somewhere private right now just so we could–"

"Sleep, you need sleep," I blurted out, "God, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

"You ain't saying anything I ain't already thinking," he chuckled half-heartedly. I kissed him once more, something much tamer.

"Should I go?"

"No, stay here. Unless you couldn't sleep like this?" 

"I'm sure I could," I giggled. His arms tightened. 

"Then settle in, sweetheart. Sleep tight," he whispered. I dipped my head under his chin and snuggled down for the night. 

"Goodnight, Arthur."

[soulairee]

Fruition

Summary: SasuSaku and NaruHina. One-shot. Soccer AU. "B-but that's your woman, teme!" Naruto splutters. "Shouldn't you defend her honor or something? Those bastards are nearly salivating over her!" "Let them salivate all they want," Sasuke replies, smug. "I can't blame them." Such is the life of young, beautiful soccer players and their supportive boyfriends.

You can read this story on AO3 here and Fanfiction.net here.

____________________________

“Oi, teme! Over here!”

Sasuke briefly closes his eyes and counts to ten before turning in the direction of his best friend’s booming voice. The blond is waving at him in the VIP section several rows down. He’s visibly tipsy already, cheeks flushed as he leans over his chair and spills popcorn over the laps of innocent bystanders in the row behind him.

“I can see you!” Sasuke snaps, beginning to make his way down. “Watch your hands, idiot. You’re getting food everywhere.”

Naruto belatedly realizes the mess he’s made and proceeds to sheepishly apologize to the people behind him. They glare and mutter to themselves but otherwise don’t seem too perturbed.

Once he’s joined the blond, Sasuke nods his head in greeting at the line of men on Naruto’s other side—Neji, Sai, and Shikamaru, to name a few—then makes himself comfortable. After a moment of contemplation, he unzips his jacket and tosses it over the back of his chair before settling in; for one, because it is a bit warmer out than he thought it would be, and two because he secretly loves showing off his jersey. It’s Japan’s standard women’s soccer jersey—navy blue (his favorite color) with three white stripes on each sleeve. His has the number seven written in bold, and, most importantly, the name Haruno emblazoned brightly across the back. 

(He’s never been so proud to own a piece of clothing in his life.)

“I can’t sit still for shit,” Naruto tells him, nearly shaking with anticipation beside him. “It’s almost like I’m the one about to play, yanno? I can’t imagine what the girls must be feeling right now.”

“They’re probably a lot calmer than you, dumbass,” Sasuke retorts easily, but it’s half-hearted at best. His own nerves have had the best of him ever since Sakura left his place earlier that morning. He feels jittery, pumped full of adrenaline. Even though he’s not the one who trained day after day for the last nineteen years of his life to make it here, it truly does almost feel like it’s his game that’s about to start. He thinks the fact that he’s been by Sakura’s side for nearly as long and gone to every single one of her games since he met her also has something to do with it. 

“I still can’t believe they made it,” Naruto continues as if the Uchiha never spoke. “I mean, I do, of course. It’s our girls after all, but holy shit this is unreal.”

Sasuke can’t help but agree. This is the largest stage their team has ever played on—figuratively if not literally, and just a few years ago it seemed like a far-off dream to the team members and the rest of the country alike. Japan’s women’s national soccer team has never made it to the FIFA Women’s World Cup finals before, and while they performed increasingly well over the last decade they still weren’t quite up to par.

That was, however, before three young, talented players from Tokyo University’s women’s soccer team were drafted three years ago. They’ve been unstoppable ever since. 

“Fuck fuck fuck I’m so nervous.” Naruto’s right leg bounces up and down, shaking the entire bench.

Sasuke’s just about to make a scathing remark to make him stop when Sai beats him to it and comments, “The game doesn’t even start for another hour, Dickless.”

“I know that, dumbass. I always just get so excited and—HEY GUYS LOOK IT’S HINATA! HINATAAAA! Oiiiiii! Over here!”

Sasuke winces, solemnly thinking he may have to get his hearing checked when this is over, while the blond leans over the railing and flails like an idiot, trying to get his girlfriend’s attention. 

“They’re warming up, dobe,” Sasuke mutters. “Let her focus.”

He says this even as his eyes flash from player to player until he sees a familiar, bright beacon of pink hair, and he can’t help the upturned corners of his lips as he takes her in.

Haruno Sakura walks onto the field like she owns it—all five foot four inches of her confident and comfortable, as if she were born to play. She’s walking beside her best friend and the team’s star forward, Yamanaka Ino, smiling and laughing as they pass a ball between them. Her green eyes are full of fire, back straight and proud. Sasuke doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of seeing her in her element.

True to Naruto’s incessant screaming, Hyuuga Hinata—the most reliable sweeper he’s ever seen and a monster of a defensive player, fascinatingly at odds with her naturally shy and soft-spoken nature—is walking on the right side of the group, closest to where they’re seated. Her head whips around and Sasuke can see her blush even at a distance as she waves back. 

“I LOVE YOU, HYUUGA HINATA!” Sasuke curses himself for not buying those ear plugs he saw yesterday. The blond’s voice could surely cause an avalanche at this point. “You’re gonna do great!! Go kick some ass, dattebayo!”

Hinata’s red as a tomato. Her teammates laugh and pat her on the back, but the smile she tries to hide with a curtain of her hair is undeniably happy. 

“Oi! Uzumaki!” 

Their entire row of friends stiffen at once and gulp deeply, wholly fearful of the blonde lady stalking toward them on the field, murder in her eyes.

“If my strongest defensive player faints because of your idiotic ass again,” snarls Senju Tsunade, the team’s head coach and also the boys’ worst nightmare, “I will rip your dick off and shove it so far up your ass you’ll taste it in the back of your throat. Now shut the fuck up and let her do what she does best.” She’s glaring at him from below, and with a crack of her knuckles she finishes, “Are we clear, Uzumaki?”

Naruto lets out a meek, “Clear,” and it’s only when Tsunade’s moved away that they can finally relax.

“Jesus fuck, she’s terrifying,” Kiba whispers, and they all nod in agreement. Tsunade is a stern coach but she treats her players with the utmost care and consideration—which consequently involves her threatening the lives of anyone who messes with her girls.

A sudden increase in noise throughout the stadium draws Sasuke’s attention. The crowd has begun cheering enthusiastically, and Sasuke’s confused for a moment before he sweeps his gaze across the stadium and realizes what it is that has them so excited. 

They’re playing a video on the jumbo screens—a clip of the post-game interviews from Japan’s semi-finals match against South Korea, which ended with a brutal score of 5-0. Sakura scored three of the five goals, further solidifying her spot as the team’s ace player and earning her an MVP title. 

And it’s Sakura, it seems, who has captured the audience’s attention so raptly. Her interview is currently showing on the screen, and she’s radiant. 

Sakura answers the reporter’s questions with a beaming smile, sweat glistening on her face and neck, green eyes exhausted yet bright with energy. She makes a stunning picture, as Sasuke and the entire Japanese crowd seem to recognize. It’s obvious that she’s a fan favorite—young, naturally beautiful, and quite honestly the most talented midfielder in the whole tournament. Sakura flashes the camera her trademark toothy grin and throws up a peace sign before the TV screen switches to a commercial.

A few male voices sound especially loud behind Sasuke’s left shoulder, yelling and chanting her name—a roar of “Sakura-chan, Sakura-chan, Sakura-chan!”—and he glances back at the group of ten or so men responsible for the noise before crossing his arms over his chest and settling back into his seat with a smug curve of his lips. 

Beside him, Naruto stiffens and turns to fix the men with an icy glare. Pointing a furious finger, he barks, “Oi! That’s Haruno-san to you, you hear me! Don’t be calling her so familiarly, you bastards!”

Sasuke hears the offending group grumble and grow silent. “Leave them be, Naruto,” he says, watching as the source of their affections practices one-touch shots on the goal below. She’s light on her feet, following through the shots with a clean arc of her foot. 

Naruto splutters indignantly. “B-but—that’s your woman, teme. Shouldn’t you defend her honor or something? Those bastards are nearly salivating over her!”

Almost as if sensing that they’re speaking about her, Sakura turns her head in their direction. She searches the crowd for a moment before spotting them, then smiles and waves a hand. Her smile grows soft when she locks eyes with Sasuke. Cheesily she makes a heart with her hands, beaming as she holds it out to him, and he can’t help but chuckle quietly at her antics.

“Let them salivate all they want,” Sasuke replies, content with the attention she’s shown him. “I don’t blame them.” 

If this happened three years ago, he might have had a different reaction. At the start of Sakura’s professional soccer career Sasuke found himself playing the part of the jealous boyfriend far too often. He was not a stranger to her receiving male attention before and was always certain of her loyalty to him, but finding an increasing number of random men wearing her jersey at their games was hard for him to handle at first. Not to mention the fact that many of her male fans flirted with her every chance they got, and Sakura was honestly too kind—and oblivious, he noted—to reject their advances with any real gusto.

The advances only grew in number and fervor as time went on, especially when she became part of the starting line-up at the young age of twenty-two. It was around that time that Sasuke decided once and for all that his jealousy was irrational. He would only become more and more frustrated as time went on, after all, and in reality—underneath all his possessive instincts—he was proud of the attention she was receiving. Sakura was the hardest working person he knew and she deserved to be showered with endless support more than anyone. He wouldn’t let his jealousy take that away from her.

And besides, Sasuke thinks, eyes never leaving her as she continues warming up, he’s the one whose arms she falls asleep in every night. He’s the one she’s loved since they were kids, the one who’s been by her side through thick and thin. 

These men can cheer for her all they want—it’ll never change the fact that Uchiha Sasuke is Haruno Sakura’s biggest fan. 

He’s also, he thinks as he brushes his hand against the velvet box resting in his pants pocket, hopefully her soon-to-be fiance. He fully plans to propose to her after the game today, winning team be damned. 

(He has the utmost faith in Japan’s victory, though. He can feel it in his bones.)

For now, however, Sasuke makes himself comfortable in his chair. He orders himself a beer, makes casual conversation with the other proud men beside him, and waits for the game to start.

____________________________

“Gather ‘round, girls! Let’s go!”

Any whispers that might’ve lingered in the group die down at Tenten’s shout. Silent and serious, they group up around their team captain, watching her intently.

Tenten fixes them each with a level stare before finally breaking the tension by saying, “We have worked hard to be here, ladies. Each and every one of us has earned the right to be on this field time and time again.”

There’s a hushed agreement from the girls. Heads nod, smiles flash. Excitement is tangible in the air, energy vibrating between them. 

“No matter the outcome of this game, know that I am proud of you.” Tenten’s voice rings with sincerity, loud and commanding. “This country is proud of you. We are the first Japanese team to make it to the World Cup finals, and that in itself is an incredible feat.”

A few girls whoop at this, a few others clap. Several shift back and forth on their feet, needing some form of movement to channel their mixed nervousness and exhilaration into. 

“This might very well be the most important game of our lives. I know what you’re all capable of—what we as a team are capable of—so let’s show the world who we are.” 

Then Tenten grins, hungry and eager. “Let’s kick some ass, ladies. We’ve got a World Cup to win.”

Tenten yells a hearty “Hands in!” over the sound of their cheers. They bring their hands in together, break, and after winning the coin toss they’re spilling onto the field, thrumming with excitement.

Haruno Sakura allows herself to bask in the cheering of the crowd as she steps into position at the center mark. The sound fills her with adrenaline, sends fire coursing through her veins. The smell of turf wafts through her nostrils and the sun blazes overhead. Being on the field is a delicious feeling, one she doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of. 

Sakura positions the ball at her feet and turns to gaze at her teammates around her, almost in disbelief that they’ve made it this far. Ino’s at her usual post as left forward, jumping from foot to foot to keep her blood flowing. As their striker, she’s undeniably the quickest on the team—Sakura’s never seen a sight more beautiful than Ino sprinting downfield, her long blonde hair flying behind her as she outruns their opponents.   

“Don’t screw up, Forehead!” Ino calls. The blonde grins evilly and winks, causing Sakura to laugh.

“Over my dead body, Ino-pig,” Sakura growls back. Their familiar banter always soothes her nerves before a game. They’ve been friends and teammates since they were six years old, and together they make one hell of an offensive duo. 

Opposite Ino stands Sabaku no Temari, one of the older players with a feisty attitude. Sakura can say this because she’s seen the woman whip her husband, Nara Shikamaru, into place more times than she can count.

Past the three ladies who make up the rest of Sakura’s midfielders and at the very back of the four-man defensive team stands Hyuuga Hinata. She’s quite possibly the sweetest human alive and an absolutely unbreakable wall on the field. Truly, the amount of goals Hinata has let past her is insanely low. As the sweeper she’s the last line of defense before the goalie—her role is crucial to their team, and she never fails to impress Sakura with her ability to halt even the sneakiest, most talented forwards in their tracks. 

Rounding up their team is Hyuuga Tenten—their resident goalie and also the team’s oldest player at the ripe age of thirty-two. One of the most passionate players Sakura’s ever seen, Tenten has earned her spot as their team captain through countless years of dedication and hard work. Her love for the sport shows in everything she does, and Sakura couldn’t ask for a better woman to lead them.

The referee calls first for the opponent’s goalie, then for Tenten, who throws up a hand to signal that she’s ready.

And in the few split seconds before the game starts, Sakura looks into the crowd and finds her gaze locked with a pair of dark, heated eyes. Their owner sits in the very front row next to the field, gazing at her intensely. He has his arms crossed over his chest, legs spread, and Sakura feels any trace of doubt and anxiety left within her drain away as she takes him in.

Uchiha Sasuke is her lucky charm, her rock, and he damn well knows it. He is also without a doubt the man she plans to spend the rest of her life with. He’s been to every single one of her games, believed in her when no one else did, hugged her while she cried and told her she was amazing even when she was at her lowest and wanted nothing more than to give up. 

Sakura thinks of him, and she thinks of the game ahead of her, of the blood and sweat and tears that have led to this moment. With her team behind her and the love of her life supporting her in the crowd, she truly feels invincible. 

She sees Sasuke’s lips tilt into a small smile just as the ref brings the whistle to his mouth in the corner of her eye. Sasuke nods at her, a simple gesture that only she can read: you’ve got this, it says. You’re going to do amazing. Believe in yourself. I love you.

Sakura can’t restrain her answering smile as she nods back at him. She takes a deep breath, feeling the energy of the crowd around her, the passion of her teammates. The sun warms her from head to toe and she thinks that she’s never been more ready for anything in her life.

Sakura shifts into position. The world seems to hold its breath for a moment, waiting— 

Then finally the whistle is blown, and the game begins.

[probably-writing-x]

Change of scene.

"Alright, good morning guys!" You begin, arm held outstretched in front of you as you chat to the camera, "I'm in a bit of a rush because, as usual, I left things too late this morning!"

You reach for your keys from the counter and sling your gym bag over your shoulder.

"But, that's fine, I'm just off to the gym and then I'm going to something you're probably not used to seeing on this channel," You laugh, heading to the front door of your house, "But you'll have to wait and see what that one is! For now, I need to get going,"

Switching off the camera, you head out of your place and shuffle your rucksack on your back before setting off into a jog toward the gym. You had Lemonade blasting in your earphones and empty London streets ahead so made the most of your motivation to run today, getting there in record time with sweat already glistening against your forehead.

"Excuse me, (Y/n)?" Someone unknown calls from behind you and you spin around to see a young girl stood a little across the path.

"Hey!" You smile, pulling out your earphones and making your way over.

"I'm sorry but I'm such a huge fan!" She exclaims, "You're absolutely stunning and I love watching how much you've progressed,"

"Awww thank you so much darling!" You grin, "Can I hug you?"

She gladly accepts the offer and the two of you take a few photos.

"I'll see you soon!" You wave goodbye, pulling out your camera to speak to your vlog again.

The gym's air conditioning hits you instantly and you sigh at the relieving chill.

"Alright, so we're back at the gym, I've just met an absolutely adorable viewer," You begin to explain, "And she's absolutely inspired me to start back to work here again. I'm hoping for some PB's in my squat and, deadlift today so we need to go hard,"

You drop your bag on the gym floor and smile at how empty it is already - your only company being the few personal trainers that were busy cleaning the machines.

"We're going to start with some resistance squats just to warm up a little though," You nod and set your camera down for a time lapse at the edge of the gym, giving a field of view of your length of squats.

This gym had become like a second home to you over recent years as you had built up your dedication to fitness more and more. Now, workouts and body building had become the basis of some sort of career for you. And you were lucky enough that people enjoyed watching your videos about such journey - making you live a life you weren't even sure could be real sometimes.

It isn't long into your workout that your music cuts out and you glance over at your phone to see an incoming facetime call from 'Spidey🕷️'

"You're finally up I see," You laugh as you answer the call, sitting down on the mat and settling your phone against your bent knee.

"Where were you this morning?" Tom yawns and turns over in the bed, tucking a pillow beneath his arm and snuggling into it - you knew it would be the one you slept on last night.

"I had to get home early and I didn't want to wake you," You smile, "So I just left you to it,"

He pouts and closes his eyes, "I felt like a one night stand," But he can't help but smirk at his words, poking one eye open to still look at you.

You hum with sarcastic tone, "That's a long one night stand, Holland,"

He chuckles and the sound is an octave deeper than normal, laced with his prolonged desperation to go back to sleep, "Why are you already at the gym?" He groans

"Because I have a busy day ahead of me," You roll your eyes, "Speaking of which,"

Leaning behind your phone, you grab your camera and press record once again.

"I need you to meet me in about two hours at an address that I'll text to you, can you do that babe?"

Tom raises his brows but his eyes refuse to follow suit as they still adjust to the brightness of the screen, "Where are you taking me, darling?"

"You'll have to wait and see," You laugh and your lips curl into a grin.

Your boyfriend can't help but find the joy infectious as he reciprocates your little smile, "Alright, beautiful, I better get my arse out of bed,"

You chuckle and turn off the recording, knowing your fans would go crazy for the little snippet of your relationship.

"Okay, babe, I'll see you soon," You beam and blow him a kiss.

Tom waves tiredly before ending the call, leaving you with the clear knowledge that he wouldn't be getting out of bed any time soon.

~~~

You step out of the gym shower and run the towel once more over the back of your neck, shaking it through your hair to dry that a little before throwing it to your bag.

Perfect timing to go and meet Tom.

A little explanation was probably in order... Ever since you'd met Tom, it had always been a running joke that the two of you were complete polar opposites. He had the background in gymnastics, the arts and dancing. And you were a progressing bodybuilder, spending a lot of your time with weights in your hands or a treadmill under your feet. Complete opposites that managed to attract a lot better than expected. So, you decided today could be the day when you let those worlds collide. And, to do that, you'd booked out a dance studio for a few hours for him to teach you some ballet.

"Alright, so I'm just on my way to meet Tom, hopefully the traffic isn't too bad because I want to be there before him ideally," You explain, chattering away to your camera as you climb into the waiting Uber outside.

Luckily, you get to the destination in quick time and you can't see Tom anywhere near.

And, as if he really did have Spidey sense, his Uber pulls round the corner just as you turn around.

"Hello darling!" He beams like he hasn't seen you in forever, hopping out of the car and wrapping you in his arms, "I've missed you,"

"You saw me last night, plenty of me," You roll your eyes and he chuckles deeply in response.

"What are we doing here?" He frowns, glancing at the grand building behind you.

You pull out the camera and focus it on him, "We're going dancing!" you wiggle your brows and he drops his jaw a few inches.

"We're doing what?!"

"You're going to teach me some ballet," Your lips curl into a bold smile and you turn the camera so it points at both of you, "Am I just the best girlfriend ever?"

"Honey," He laughs, "I can't wait to see this!"

~~~

Soon enough, you and Tom are in your own company in the grand studio - sunlight spilling through floor length windows and onto the cold floorboards.

"Where do we start, Holland?" you clap your hands together, setting down the camera with a good view of the two of you.

"Are we seriously doing something?" He shakes his head but can see the determination in your eyes, "Alright, love, over here,"

Tom positions himself by the bar running across the wall and holds it with one hand, falling easily into a typical dancer position you didn't know the name of with his arm curled in front of him.

"How the fuck do I do that?" You exclaim, out-turning your feet and tripping over your leg, falling forward and catching yourself only just before things went really bad.

Tom looks at you with a sort of laugh, sort of sigh, "This isn't starting well,"

"Come on, no, no, I'm trying, I am," You shake it off, stepping in front of him with evident attempt to replicate his posture.

His hands fall to the curve of your waist as he perfects your positioning, "There she goes!" He grins, flicking his eyes to the camera, "Alright, now this,"

He outstretches his leg to the side, lowering on his height before rising to his toes. Truly, you try your best to replicate but the effort is flawed in its success.

"I mean, you're getting there," He smirks.

"Go on then, show me your skills Thomas," you cock a brow, turning and leaning your elbows against the bar to leave the floor as his open stage.

He lingers his look on you for a little and shifts the khaki material covering his torso, "Alright,"

He steps out into the centre and aligns his form, rising to the balls of his feet before breaking into a continuous spin, twirling around the floor like you'd never stop him.

"Oh you show off!" You exclaim, running up to him and lifting him from the ground, his legs flailing into the air. It was something you did more and more now you were strong enough to lift more than his weight.

"(Y/n)!" He squeals before you drop him down gracefully to the floor, spinning him out of your hold.

"And, thank you very much," You take a gracious bow and Tom keeps hold of your hand, looking at you with a mix of adoration and shock.

"You blow my mind," He mumbles under his breath and you're grateful that it won't be picked up on the microphone of your camera.

You hurry over to the camera and pick it up, "Alright, I'm going to stop recording and get back to you in a little while where I'll be an absolute professional at this!"

For the next hour or so, Tom teaches you as much as your non-graceful actions can take. Every so often, he'll teach you some sort of couple's spin and make sure to catch your lips in a kiss when you are near him. He'll teach you a certain lift or hold and you're sure it's supernatural for your muscles to tingle so much under his hold. And you are utterly terrible at ballet! But that glimmer in his eye when he's dancing or the adoration when he sees you try to do the same is enough to keep you going.

"So, thoughts on your first time with ballet?" Tom asks as the two of you lean up against the wall of mirrors behind you, both sat against cold tile floor.

"It was certainly... Different," You laugh, wiping away some of the stray hairs that had stuck to the outline of your face thanks to the glimmer of sweat that had arisen there.

"I think maybe bodybuilding is a better option for you," He nods and you watch the way his lips curl into a delicate smirk.

"I think you just feel threatened by my talent, Holland,"

~~

Tags: @imarypayne @sunshine112 @bringmethehorizonandpizza @supernatural-girl97 @vibhati123 @butithasntkilledyouyet @faefictions @carisi-sonny @trap-house-homiecide @shamelessbookaddict @tommydaspidey @oneblckcoffee @darlingtholland @fanficparker @xxtomxo

[scanlonblogs]

Five Lessons I Learned after Graduating College

     College was a great experience, and I would do it again if I could, but it blinded me to reality.  The truth is, the real world is nothing like college.  I was nervous having to adapt to all the changes after graduation.  Since then, I have learned a lot about the real world, and I am comfortable where I currently am.  If you are in college, about to graduate, or even out of college, heed my words.  You may learn something.  Here are five lessons I learned after graduating college.

1. Life Begins After College

     Life does not begin in college, it begins after graduation.  The real world is different than college, having many positives and negatives.  Positively, you are more independent than ever.  Having the ability to find a well-paying job, live wherever you please, and spend extra cash however you want is life changing.  Negatively, there are bills to pay, you only have a vague idea of how to move forward, and there are a multitude of other responsibilities requiring time, money, and mental fortitude.  While in college, you do not necessarily think about real world responsibilities.  We are caught up in the same routine; going to class, doing homework, and spending the rest of our time relaxing.  I enjoyed the free time myself, but I should have spent some time thinking about my future.  We are only in college for four years.  We have another 80 plus to live.  If you are in college, spend some free time thinking about the future and what goals you want to accomplish.  Experience new things and educate yourself as much as possible.  College may not be the reality, but it can definitely be used as a catalyst for real world success, both personally and professionally.  Spend your time wisely.

2. There Are No Guarantees

     Everybody has a shot at success, but there are no guarantees.  Becoming successful requires hard work, dedication, and time.  However, people seem to forget this, and when they realize the amount of effort it takes, they become discouraged.  For example, some people have this impression college will guarantee a well-paying job after graduation.  Many are dissatisfied when they end up working in an entry level position.  They expected too much, and when their expectations were not met, they were disappointed.  Most people need to work their way up the corporate ladder to obtain their dream job.  Because there are no guarantees, it is best not to raise expectations.  That way, there will be less disappointment, and when you do accomplish a goal, find your dream job, or succeed in any way, it will be more meaningful.

3. The Importance of Self Education

     Self-education is the key to becoming successful.  A trait among those who are successful is their outlook on learning.  Most people end their educational career when they graduate college.  Others take it a step further, reading books and gaining experience on their own time to further their learning.  These types of people are the ones who become successful, because they understand the value of knowledge.  They use this knowledge to push forward and accomplish goals.  Some of these people, like Steve Jobs, never finished college or did not attend, but their perseverance, as well as their willingness to learn, took them farther than those with degrees.  A college degree will help you find a job to pay the bills, but self-education can make you rich, both in your personal life and professional life.  Never stop learning.

4. Positivity is the Key to Happiness

     It is easy to succumb to the negativity in the world, especially after graduating college.  As a graduate, you now have numerous responsibilities with little guidance.  People soon realize how different college is to the real world, and having to face new terrain can be daunting.  Unfortunately, this negativity can be overwhelming, and often consumes the person, which can lead to depression, anger, and frustration.  It is important to remain positive, or at least optimistic, as much as possible.  Life is unpredictable, but how we handle it does not have to be.  Remaining positive, even in the worst situations, can make a huge difference in stress levels and overall happiness.  Negativity does nothing but worsen the situation.  It is easy to give into negativity, most people do, but anyone can turn a negative situation into a positive one with the right mindset.

5. Expect the Unexpected

     No matter how much we may plan, life is unpredictable.  What we expect can be much different than what actually happens.  When I first graduated, I planned to pay off my loans within two years, was single, and wanted to move to Florida and do some soul searching.  A year and a half later, I am about a year away from paying off my loans, have a girlfriend whom I love very much, and am rethinking my soul searching idea.  Nobody knows where they are going to be a year from now.  Look at yourself in the mirror and think about how different you were a year ago.  Now, think about how different you will be in one year.  Expect the unexpected and go with the flow.  Life will throw curve balls, but it is how we handle these curve balls which determines our level of happiness.

     What are your thoughts?  What are your college experiences?  Be sure to let me know in the comments!

Song of the Blog:

Today's Song of the Blog is "High School Never Ends," by Bowling For Soup!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jrxI_euTX4A

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Tumblr: @scanlonblogs

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Special Thanks:

     Thank you @sunnycosmology​ for continuously supporting what I do.  Your kind words are part of the reason why I keep moving forward.  Also, YOU, SCROLLING THROUGH THIS BLOG, thank you for reading.  I thoroughly enjoy talking with my readers, so shoot me a message if you want to chat!  Thank you!

[manabingu]

Haruka Nanami = soft girl

This has been sitting in my inbox since yesterday MY BAD! I wanted to answer this earlier but got distracted by deadlines of some stuff ANYWAY. Thanks for sending me an ask about Nanami CUZ I BEEN WANTIN TO TALK ABOUT MY HOME GIRL FOR AWHILE BUT NEVER GET THE CHANCE TO! So thanks~*~*~*

THIS GIRL RIGHT HERE. NANAMI HARUKA ^^^^ I WOULD DIE FOR HER.

Honestly, I’m that one person in every fandom that tends to fall in love with characters who I feel get undeserved hate or are either a minor character who gets glossed over. And be like….YALL??? Why you so mean to such adorable, innocent,sweet, hardworking, wouldn’t hurt a fly characters and then say that characters who are LITERAL murderers and criminals are the “precious cinnamon rolls who can do no wrong” only cuz you attracted to them??? yall thas sad. Listen…I’m honestly tired of people who bash on the anime and only play the games cuz they think it’s boring. Yes, you can have your opinion & I respect that, but I’ve seen some people whom have a pretty steadily growing following just bash on Nanami or some of their “not best boys” for reasons that make no sense to me & I been bottling this for awhile but Imma just SPEAK today cuz I’m on fire. ANYWAY BACK TO MY QUEEN.

LET ME HAVE MY NANAMI HARUKA TED TALK. Debunking complaints

Complaint I’ve heard: She’s boring

IN MY PERSONAL OPINION. NANAMI HARUKA IS ONE OF THE BEST LEADS IN ANY IDOL/ REVERSE HAREM ANIME I HAVE SEEN TO DATE.

She’s FAR from boring. She kind of reminds me of one of my other favorite lead heroines of all time. Tohru Honda from Fruits Basket. Both are humble & haven’t really had much in their life. Let’s talk about her story, she is a girl who was born with with bad health so much so that her parents sent her to grow up and live with her grandma in the countryside where the air was cleaner & less polluted than the city where they live. While she stayed with grandma, she learned to play piano by ear & she really didn’t grow up with much technology. She states in episode one that she didn’t even have a TV so anytime anyone in her class makes a reference to a famous celebrity she doesn’t know who they are. If I had to guess she only probably had books, toys, & a record player at grandma’s house AND I think she was home-schooled? Which means that that her only other friend besides her grandma & possibly the local neighborhood kids was grandma’s piano.

 I think she’s highly relateable too. I sure have had similar experience (trust me, my immune system is TerRibLe XD so I feel home girl) But I knew the moment I saw that part in episode 1 where she describes how music LITERALLY saved her life, THAT is when I knew I would protect this girl for the rest of my life cuz I just yelled at my screen SAME GURL! SAAAAAAME TTuTT/ In Nanami’s case, she went by herself to the city to visit her parents, she thought since she no longer was a kid, her health wouldn’t be too endangered but she she got there she got REALLY lost & the noise pollution was so overwhelming that her anxiety gave her a panic attack. AND THIS IS WHY I REALLY LIKE UTAPRI. BECAUSE THEY GET HELLA REAL HELLA FAST. THIS KIND OF THING IS NOT SOME KINDA MADE UP THING. LET ME SIT YALL DOWN AND TELL YOU A STORY.

Listen- I remember when I was like 16ish I went to New York with a cousin & as a person who comes from a small town- being in the city BY YOURSELF for the first time, it’s SO SCARY to someone who has anxiety. I was dropped off in Manhattan while she ran a work errand she gave me money for food & encouraged me to explore. As soon as they left, I looked around thinking OH GOD WHAT NOW?? I saw a cathedral close by and I RAN for it. I was so scared being alone I went to a small corner of the cathedral and started crying & tweeting, which got some comforting responses from native NY people that followed me & I texted the friend that was closest to me (if you count Virginia close lol) But he called me & just talked to me & helped me feel better. He encouraged me to not stay in one place & to go find a place I like & perhaps if I was too anxious, to go stay there till I was picked up. IT TOOK ME 30 MINUTES to get courage enough to walk to the Barnes & Noble/Starbucks that was close & I stayed there texting him the rest of the time. So ANYTIME people talk crap about Nanami’s panic attack in the city I’m gonna politely tell them to get out of my face cuz that’s a VERY real emotion. The thing that saved Nanami was hearing a singer in a giant screen singing a soothing song. THE MUSIC HELPED CALM DOWN HER ANXIETY. EXCUSE ME. YALL CAN’T SAY THAT YOU’VE NEVER BEEN SOOTHED BY A SONG IN YOUR LIFE. WE ALL BEEN THERE. WHEN WE WERE SO DOWN THAT LISTENING TO A SONG MADE US FEEL BETTER. I know that happened with me. Just like Nanami, I had a time in my life where I was just ready for death, I had lost hope to live but hearing ONE. SONG by my favorite singer, literally stopped me. So I can relate how she felt about HAYATO in the city. And how afterwards she was so inspired by it that she wanted to try to have a career dealing with music. HER REASON FOR WANTING TO BECOME A COMPOSER IS BECAUSE SHE KNOWS WHAT IT’S LIKE TO FEEL SAD AND SCARED. SO SHE WANTS TO MAKE MUSIC THAT CAN TOUCH PEOPLE’S HEARTS & IF THEY’RE HAVING A BAD DAY, SHE CAN CHEER THEM UP WITH A SONG. IF THAT ISN’T THE GREATEST REASONING TO GO FIGHT FOR A DREAM, I DUNNO WHAT IS.

AND SHE KNOWS THAT THE ODDS ARE AGAINST HER. BUT SHE DOESN’T THROW IN THE TOWEL EASILY. I FREAKING LOVE HER FOR THAT. NANAMI. HARUKA. IS. NOT. WEAK.

Once she was of age, she applied for THE most prestigious music academy in her area. She was nearly late to the entrance exam cuz she helped a lost child find their mom while she was running in a snowstorm to the school. And because she was noticed to have that high moral compass by the principal, she was allowed to take the exam and made it in. And even when she DID get in, she was bullied by all the rich kids for not being able to read sheet music & not being taught by a private piano teacher when she was asked to play in front of everyone. She KNEW that she can play piano but she was self taught & played by ear. ((THIS STRUCK ME HARD TOO. Because I am self taught too- as a singer, I thought that if I didn’t have access to all these things & I didn’t know how to sight read I’d never be taken seriously or that I was less worthy to be called a musician than my peers)) But did she give up??? NO. HOME GIRL RAN TO THE LIBRARY and she studied her ass off to not let her first assignment project partner down. I COULD GO ON FOR HOURS ABOUT THE FIRST SEASON ALONE. SHE WAS THROWN SO MANY CURVE BALLS TO CRUSH HER SPIRIT AND DESPITE HER ANXIETY KEPT FIGHTING FOR HER DREAM.

But you know what? She also showed me THAT IT’S OK TO FALL DOWN TO ROCK BOTTOM. It’s OK to feel like giving up especially when your confidence has been crushed to a pulp by everyone. YALL, I FREAKING BAWLED MY EYES OUT WHEN SHE FOUND OUT THAT STARISH - THE BAND SHE SINGLE-HANDEDLY  (and with some magical fate strings pulled by Cecil)) CREATED WAS GONNA DEBUT WITHOUT HER. She was asked by the principal if she thought HER music could compete with pros already established and household names already in the business. She didn’t want her friends to give up their dreams of debuting so she agreed to step down as STARISH’s composer AGAINST their demands for her to not give up. She went home and cried to her grandmother that she felt SO outclassed. And you know what? I’m GLAD Utapri shared this kind of story because I’m sure it has happened to a lot of people.

Nanami is a really kind, compassionate, selfless human being. She does anything and everything so that all her family & friends can be happy at the expense of her own happiness. She takes it to the extreme that she is PUSHED and forced to FOR ONCE think selfishly and do something for herself. Her purity & kindness won the respect of her classmates & teachers so much so that they always want to support her dream of  becoming a songwriter. When STARISH came to her house cuz they heard she ran away- she openly admitted  IN TEARS that SHE wanted to be STARISH’s composer, she didn’t want anyone else to write for them because she had fun with her friends and she didn’t want that to stop. ((The principal overheard her and said FINALLY! SOMETIMES ITS OK TO BE SELFISH WHEN IT COMES TO YOUR DREAM! Its ok to be kind but also think of your own feelings sometimes too. I think young, budding artists need to hear this. )) SHE GIVES ME HOPE CUZ I BE THE SAME WAY SOMETIMES WITH MY STUFF SO YEAH ;~~~~~;/

SOMETIMES When I watch a show that has harem elements to it, I really judge the protag that everyone is falling for and I think about if the harem people’s feelings are justified enough for them to actually fall in love with the protag. And you know what? In Nanami’s case?? ITS A BIG OL HELL YEAH IT’S JUSTIFIED.

FrICK- I fell in love with Nanami too??? How could I not??? I AM A BIGASS SAP FOR INNOCENT, SHY, CHARACTERS WHO TRY THEIR BEST EVEN THOUGH THEY SCARED AF CUZ OF CONFIDENCE ISSUES.

She’s a wonderful, compassionate, gifted person who just needs love and support and you know she’ll be there for you too and it’s mutual. She works SUPER hard at her job, she’s endearing, she makes you wanna just protect her cuz if she is sad lord I will probably go on a rampage. This girl doesn’t deserve to go through more than she already has. I love and respect Nanami. A female protagonist doesn’t need to be bitchy, slutty, or badass to be considered “interesting”. 

HECK, one time I heard someone say “This show would be 10x if Nanami was a guy. UMMMM???? WTF??? Ok, listen, I’m in the lgbt spectrum, & I’m sick of people saying that Utapri would be better if Nanami was a boy. Why is it so bad that she’s a girl?? Like- I would like ONE reasonable explanation that doesn’t involve fetishizing your personal fantasies. When people fetishize an lgbt relationship- you’re causing that type of relationship to not be taken seriously irl. If we wanna make this the norm, we gotta treat it like it’s a natural occurrence. Not force something for the sake of fanservice. There are barely any well written female protags like Nanami out there in the world and if we change her, we are taking out one of the best from the list. I want more shows to write good, memorable  female protags like Nanami. I wouldn’t be against her being a boy. But only if the reason was for good reasons and to explore character development dynamics. Cuz I enjoy content that has actual substance. SERIOUSLY- If Utapri was ONLY fanservice, I would despise it. BUT IT’S NOT. It tackles real issues & speaks about people in the industry and they don’t sugarcoat ANYTHING. They show you the harsh realities but they also give you hope to keep doing what you love even if you gotta work extra harder than your peers who might be more experienced than you.

And THAT is what I learned from Nanami Haruka. And I will defend my songwriting princess till I die. Thank you.

[huntertales]

Part Four: Is Your Heart In the Right Place? (Heartache S08E03)

Episode Summary: While trying to track down Kevin, the Winchesters and the reader get sidetracked by a series of murders where the victims have gotten their hearts ripped out. One killer is captured, but things become even more complicated for the trio when they find their killer in a trance, mumbling an ancient prayer they can’t decipher. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 4,940.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

You weren't exactly sure where you would find Brick Holmes' nine hundred year old heart. Your best guess for whoever inherited the organ had to follow in his footsteps, at least go for something that made them feel powerful and strong. But it seemed you were thrown a curve ball. Eleanor told you and the boys the place where you would find the woman who was given Brick's heart. She apparently worked at a joint called "The Bunny Hole Club." It wasn't too hard to guess from the pin up girls on the front that it was a strip club. The Impala pulled up to the spot as Dean parked across the street from the joint.

“Really?” Dean asked, finding himself in a bit of disbelief at what was happening here. “Our king daddy monster is a stripper?”

“We're pretty sure this is gonna work, right?” You wondered. You felt all of this was a little too good to be true from how easy all of this seemed. Most of the time killing monsters required some extra effort in gather supplies and what not. Not a knife to the heart. Of course, you still had to find this Randa, and plunge a knife into her chest. But you were sure it wouldn’t be too hard to get up close and person with the woman.

“Well, as long as Eleanor knows what she's talking about.” Dean reached behind the backseat with his arm to grab the duffel bag he filled with some supplies the three of you might need. He pulled out a large hunting knife and handed it over to his brother for safekeeping.

“You think Brick thought maybe he'd burn to nothing when he crashed that car?” Sam asked a question that made you stop and think for a moment.

Brick seemed like he was really at the end of the road with wanting to live his life. He had a long run, but he got something he never had in his entire life, and that was true love. But when he knew that Eleanor didn't have much time left, he didn't want to see the woman who had brought him happiness for so many decades to die. So he must have decided that he was ready to call it quits before he could see her pass away to old age. He tried to destroy the very thing that had brought him fame and fortune, but it didn’t mean his attempts were a success.

“Yeah, but he didn't, which brings us here.” Dean said.

You let out a sigh from the mess you were about to clean up so you could put a stop to this. You got out from the Impala and started walking to the club. Turning the corner to the building, the three of you headed to the rear entrance of the club where there was nobody around. While Dean picked the lock, you and Sam were on the lookout for any possible people that might accidentally stumble upon you breaking and entering. You reached a hand inside your pocket for your flashlight when Dean managed to unlock the door and grant all of you access to a poorly lit building.

You followed behind the boys as they made their way upstairs to the floor level of the building and to what appeared to be the locker room. You flashed your light around the room to see it wasn't that glamorous like you thought it would be. It was sort of run down looking like the rest of the place. Dean found himself smiling as he took in a deep breath. You looked over at him with a grimacing expression from what you heard him say next.

“Smell that?” Dean asked.

"You're disgusting." You muttered to him, rolling your eyes when he continued to smile.

The three of you headed out of the locker room and walked up another set of stairs before you got to the main room of the club. You looked around the place to see that it was what you expected a joint like this to be. There wasn't much out of the ordinary with two stages on each side of the room and tables spread around the place to enjoy the entertainment. You still couldn't see much without the flashlight as you continued to look around the place, wondering where this Randa woman was. You and the boys were on the search to find her, but you didn't consider she might have been looking for you as well.

The lights in the club suddenly came on without warning, making you stop in your tracks. You looked around the club to see who was responsible for that. Slowly your attention was drawn over to the stage when you saw a shadowy figure walk across the curtain. You heard what sounded to be heels clicking against the stage floor as you put your flashlight away, having a feeling you weren't going to be needing it. You felt the outline of the knife you were hiding in the waistband of your jeans as a woman stepped out from behind the curtain. You suspected she was Randa, the one you were looking for. It seemed she found you as well.

“Eleanor sent you, right? I figured she'd probably break and give me up. This won't end well for her, of course. Not that it's gonna end well for you.” Randa was feeling the effects of Brick's heart all right. She seemed all little too arrogant for a woman who was about to die. You narrowed your eyes on her as she approached the pole to lightly graze her fingers down it. Sam pulled out the knife from his jacket pocket, showing her all of you came prepared. Randa smiled, seeming not the least bit intimidated. “Oh, now, you don't think we're gonna let you do that, do you?” "'We'?" You repeated after the woman.

You should have really took into consideration she wouldn't have shown up here outnumbered to all of you. Before you realized what was going on, you felt a grip around your arms and the ground underneath your feet disappearing. You felt yourself flying across the room and landing into a table, a few very uncomfortable chairs broke your fall. While you didn't make it to a very far distance, the blow was enough to keep you down until the pain slowly subsided.

Sam was taken by surprise when he felt a chair being broken over his body and shoved into the metal railing. Dean attempted to win the fight when he drew out his gun and pointed it at none other than Paul Hayes, but it seemed the man was faster than Dean. Paul managed to throw a sucker punch hard enough to make Dean stumble backwards into another body. Little did he realize it was the latest victim that went missing. It was Jimmy Tong from Phoenix, and he was all sorts of a dick like the rest of the group. Paul and Jimmy managed to throw Dean onto the stage, and before the hunter could fight his way out of this one, they held him down.

“Oh, you guys are stronger than you look.” Dean said, knowing this was gonna be a tough one to get himself out of.

“Comes with the package.” Paul said. “Plus, I work out a lot.”

Dean wasn't all too impressed with the guy's excuse as he still tried his hardest to get out of this one before he could have his heart ripped out of his chest. Randa walked over to the hunter until she was standing over him. She was riding all sorts of highs from the power she was feeling right now. And she didn't ever want it to end. "You can't imagine who I was before. This shy, awkward little thing from Georgia with a heart condition. Then I had the surgery. I became freaking Xena, Warrior Princess"

She placed her heel clad foot on Dean’s chest, making the spiked heel press into his flesh. But it didn’t last for too long, Randa pushed herself down so she was now straddling him at his waist. “I couldn't dissect a frog in high school. But sacrificing to Cacao? Better than sex.” Randa took it upon herself to make Dean feel uncomfortable as possible. He grimaced underneath her touch as she stroked her hand with his face, enjoying the sight of his displeasure. She then pulled aside Dean's button up shirt, making his t-shirt the only layer covering the skin to where his still beating heart was. “So, if I go real slow and take my time and enjoy this,” Randa lightly traced a finger down his chest in an S pattern. “I can actually show you your own beating heart before you die.”

Dean could feel the woman's fingers suddenly digging into his flesh, hard enough to break the skin, keeping promise to her word. But she wouldn't get very far if you and Dean had anything to say about it. Sam took Paul by surprise, smashing a bottle over his head as you raced up to the stage, pulling out your knife before Randa could try and take another life. You plunged the knife straight into her stomach and quickly backed away from what was about to happen. Randa let out a gasp at the sudden rush of pain you inflicted on her.

Randa stumbled up to her feet as she glanced down at her stomach where the knife remained. You noticed her eyes were glowing red, and the stab wound was burning in red flames. You had to take a wild guess that it was working. Randa took a little more time to take down. She let out a moan as she continued to burn for a moment or so longer before the red light faded, and just like the rest, she dropped dead to the ground.

"Well, I'll say that was a moderate success." You said. You looked over at the boys from the accomplishment all of you achieved. However it seemed you must have sustained a minor concussion from the sudden throbbing in the side of your head. You moved your gaze to the ground to see Dean was still lying there. "You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah," Dean rubbed a hand across his chest where just not that long ago Randa's fingernails were digging into his skin. He felt the indents of her nails and the blood from the skin she broke. "I'll have to back to you on that one, sweetheart."

+ + +

Before you and the boys headed back to the motel to pack up your belongings and hit the road again, you made a stop to the Holmes' residence to tell Eleanor the good news. She seemed relieved at the resolved matter while the four of you discussed her calm future over coffee. Much as you were happy to give the woman a piece of mind that all of this was over, there was still a lot the three of you needed to do before you went on your way to the next town and case to solve. You placed your empty coffee cup on the island and gave Eleanor a smile.

“Well, we’d better get going.” You said. “We just wanted you to know that it really is over now.”

"Well, it had to be, one way or another. I half thought you might fail and Randa would come after me." Eleanor admitted. You found yourself looking at her with a bit of an offended glance from how she doubted you. But she meant it in a completely different way. "Either way, I'd finally be at peace."  

You found yourself letting out a soft chuckle from her way of thinking. You thought this was the best outcome for everyone, including herself. Brick could finally be at peace after what you stopped, and Eleanor could spend the rest of her days in comfort knowing everything was finally over. "You take care of yourself, Eleanor."

You gave the woman a parting smile before you and the boys showed yourselves out. You had to admit being back in business felt good. You didn't know the last time you had an actual win. Sure things with Kevin were still a mess with him missing, Sam and Dean were unagreeable about the future and Cas was still in purgatory. But you refused to think about that right. All you wanted to do was bask in the glory of a win, the future and its problem would still be there for you and eagerly waiting tomorrow.

+ + +

"Take off your shirt."

Dean was in the middle of messily folding a pair of jeans and shoving them into the duffel bag when he heard your voice. He looked up to see that you were standing in the doorway of the bathroom with a bottle of peroxide in one hand and gauze in the other. You always kept a small first aid kit on hand for emergencies when one of you got hurt. Dean didn't understand why you had pulled it out, he didn't think he got hurt too much to require attention. However he found himself annoying you by giving you a sarcastic remark that made you roll your eyes.

“Aren’t you gonna buy me dinner first, sweetheart?” His question prompted you to let out a scoff as you walked over to him.

“You wish. I want to take a look at the claw marks that bitch left.” You told him, placing the bottle and gauze down on the nightstand. "Make sure they're not too deep and clean them up so you don't get an infection."

"You sure this isn't an excuse to see me without a shirt? I mean, it has been a while." Dean said. You shook your head from his horrible sense of humor that you had to admit you missed dearly. Dean finally did what he was told, slipping off his shirt with the blood stains on the fabric. You winced slightly at the marks on his skin and reached for the bottle and gauze. "Feels good to be back in the swing of things, huh?"

"You have no idea. I didn't realize how much I've missed hunting and having my life constantly be put in danger...Now, this is gonna sting." You warned the older man as you pressed the soaked gauze in peroxide to part of his wound, softly wiping away dried blood and cleaning up the marks that would start to heal in the next few days. Dean hissed quietly underneath his breath from the first initial sting, but fell silent again when the pain subsided as a comfortable silence fell between the both of you. You worked on cleaning his wound and hearing to see if Sam had come back from the supply run in town he wanted to make before all of you left. “Hey, Dean? Can I ask you a random question?”

"Shoot, sweetheart." Dean mumbled, unaware of the conversation you were about to start with him. You inhaled a deep breath and continued working on cleaning up his wound. You didn't hesitate on the matter, you just came right out with the question that had been lingering in the back of your mind for the past day and a half.

“When Sam mentioned a case the both of you worked on while I was gone with the Amazons, why did you not want to talk about it? You’ve been pretty vocal about everything else.” You told him what you were eager to discuss. You and Dean made a promise to each other that the both of you would always tell the truth, no matter how awful it was. You stopped working for a moment and looked up at Dean when he didn’t answer you. He was awfully silent. If Dean really wanted to, he could lie straight through his teeth. It seemed he wanted to tell you, but he was hesitant. Almost guilty. “Dean, did something happen? Did…”

“I did something stupid.” Dean muttered the first part of the truth underneath his breath. But he didn’t make eye contact with you. You furrowed your brow from how he was behaving, choosing to look down at his lap instead of straight at you. Which only made you nervous.

“Dean, you do a lot of stupid things. That’s why I love you.” You tried to lighten the mood from what you said, but it seemed you only made things worse when Dean suddenly looked even more guilty. You let out a sigh and sat straight up, becoming more serious. You pressed harder for answers as you tried to give him some sort of direction to jump off of so he didn't have to directly say it. "Did someone we know accidentally sleep with one of them? Did Sam?"

You urged the older Winchester to speak up and tell you the truth, at least drop a hint. He looked up at you after you gave him a few possible suspects. You got your answer from the way he was suddenly staring at you. He only looked at you one other time, when he admitted to doing horrible things to you in hell years ago. "Oh...Oh." It didn't take many clues for you to realize that the reason why Dean didn't want to talk about the case was because it was him who made an accidental mistake.

Dean reached out for your hand, thinking you were going to bolt out of the room before you spit in his face for what he did. But you remained as you were. You had no intentions of leaving him, not ever. "It was a mistake. It was supposed to be a random hookup...I didn't know." Dean admitted the truth fast as he possibly could, wanting to get the story straight. "I did it because I missed you. I was lonely. And I was stupid. So freaking stupid.”

You wondered why he was beating himself up so much about hooking up with a random woman that turned out to be a monster. It was an honest mistake. From what you read up about them, they posed as normal human beings to fool the naked eye. But you quickly realized there was more to this than just a hookup. He accidentally got her pregnant as well. Which meant his child was one of them. "What was her name?"

“Emma.” Dean answered you in a quiet voice.

“What happened to her?” You forced yourself to ask.

"Sam did the right thing by killing her." Dean said. You nodded your head slowly as you began to process the story. It was your turn to fall silent as you stared off into space for a moment with your own personal thoughts. "If you're mad at me, you have every right to be."

"Dean, do you know how many years I've had to spend seeing all sorts of women walk in and out of your motel room? Too many." You said, cracking a smile as you tried to add some humor to try and make him feel better. "I'm not angry at what you did. Don't forget I was married for that time. And you thought I was dead. The most important thing is that we're back together. And long as I'm alive and around, I better be the only girl you're thinking about."

“Sweetheart, even when you were gone you were still on my mind. Thinking about how much I missed you..." Dean whispered as he smoothly managed to pull you up to your feet before placing his hands on your waist to sit you down on his lap. You smiled at his sudden shift in behavior as you wrapped your arms around his chest as you felt one hand remain on your waist as the other slipped into your shirt, letting his calloused fingers brush across your skin. "Missed touching you."

"I'll let this little incident slide this time, but if you ever sleep with another woman while we’re together, I’ll torture you in ways that will make you wish you were in hell again." You warned him in the absolute sweetest voice as you hit somewhere that was still a sensitive topic to Dean to this very day. But Dean knew that you would keep true to his word. He promised that he'd be on his best behavior as his eyes drifted to your lips that were growing closer as he leaned forward. You happily kissed him as you shut your eyes, enjoying the moment together and feeling his hands on your body. As the kiss grew deeper, you felt Dean's hand underneath your shirt slowly inch upward. Before he could make use of the rare private time, you suddenly pulled away. "Do you think you would ever want that?"

"What?" Dean asked, wondering what you meant by that.

"I don't know...to have a family, I guess." You admitted, shrugging your shoulders.

You didn't know where all of this was coming from. Never in your life had you expressed your longing to have children, especially not to Dean. You weren't opposed to the idea of having a child. A small little human you and Dean created together to raise. Part of you wondered what it would be like to be able to provide a child with a somewhat normal life, to be able to raise them in a way that your parents never could. Dean had expressed his idea once long ago, when he thought he wanted to have a normal life and settle down. Maybe he would have been eager to do if you did things differently after you got out of hell.

But Dean suddenly looked at you with a look of apprehensiveness from what you talking about. Right when you were about to have a moment, you ruined it by opening your big, fat mouth. And you kept going. "I mean, I know what happened to our parents—and what went wrong. It's dangerous, especially for people like us. I guess...I guess I just wondered what would it be like if something happened."

Dean suddenly felt his heart pound in his chest from how the conversation was turning into as you brought up a topic out of the blue. You never discussed things with him like this. He wondered if you were. Could you be? He tried to figure out how long the both of you had been back together. Not too long...But still. He didn't know how these sort of things worked. Well, he knew. But it wasn't the right time for this. (Was it ever?)

All Dean could think about was what might happen if you were really carrying. What happened if you got hurt on a hunt? What if he accidentally got into one of his trances and hurt you? He suddenly remembered the events leading up to your fake death and when your demon side was still alive. How the bitch taunted him with the idea that you were carrying his child.

“All you’re good at is slicing throats and watching the people you love die bloody. Kind of fitting the mother of your child is gonna go the same way.”

"I'm not pregnant, Dean." You broke the man out of his personal thoughts, giving him the truth to settle his worrying mind from jumping to the worst case scenario. "I'm just saying. I mean, but if I was..."

"Then we would deal with it." Dean said. "Any way you would want."

"I don't know about you, but I'm not opposed to the idea of having children. Not right now, at least. With all of this hell business going on. Maybe we could think about it when we finish closing the gates of hell." You said. "I'm just saying, this baby would need a family. Especially an Uncle Sammy who could take him or her on the weekends with Amelia.”

“Y/N,” Dean muttered your name underneath you breath from how this conversation was drifting to a topic he he didn’t want to talk about, let alone think. “Do we really have to do this now?”

"Why was it okay for you to want a normal life and not for Sam?" You questioned him.

"Because I know how all of this works. And it doesn't end well for anybody involved. I'm trying to protect him from getting hurt." Dean admitted to you. Your expression slowly softened from what he was subtly hinting around. You looked away from him as you let out a sigh. He quickly reached a hand up to place it on your cheek so he could turn your head to look back at him. "Let's not do this now. Okay? Enjoy the moment, sweetheart."

You were going to, because you weren't sure when the both of you were going to get another one like this. You pressed your lips against his again as the both of you got back into the swing of things right before you veered the conversation to a strange topic. You didn't know the last time you and him had an intimate moment together that wasn't just a quickie in between jobs. But it was how you learned the hunting life could be. It was a drab on your sex life at times. But you had a feeling from the way Dean was kissing you that he wanted to take things slow tonight. If you and him spent a little longer than you expected, so be it. All Dean wanted to do was enjoy this moment with you.

+ + +

You and the boys were back on the road a couple hours later. Sam wasn't exactly happy with the delay in plans, but he sort of got the hint what took so long when you came out of the motel room attempting to cover up somewhat noticeable hickey just underneath your collarbone as Dean trailed behind, a slight smirk on his lips. His brother rolled his eyes from how the both of you could be. You were like a bunch of teenagers. All of you got into the Impala and finally hit the road to the next town.

You were quiet in the backseat as you stared off into the darkness of the night, content with how things turned out. Of course you were happy. You got a happy ending and then some. Dean was in the front seat as Sam was in the passenger's side, not have said a single word since all of you left. You didn’t pay much attention to Sam’s melancholy attitude. Right now you wanted to focus on the fading tingling situation from the time you spent with Dean and the high from the win you got from the hunt. Things would be the same as they were tonight.

“Wow. Back in business. Got the win. Admit it—feels good, huh?” Dean spoke up, breaking the silence between all of you as he basked in the glory of the first win the three of you had since being reunited back together. He looked over at his brother to see Sam didn’t show too much enthusiasm. “You know, I was thinking about what Randa said about, uh, you know, what it feels like to be a warrior. I get it, man, I do.”

“I know. I know you do. I don't." Sam responded. You slowly drew your gaze away from the window and to the younger man who sat in front of you. Here you go again. "Not anymore. Hell, maybe I never did."

"Come on, Sam, don't ruin my buzz, would you?" Dean asked his brother, hoping the both of them could avoid this argument for once tonight.

"Dean, listen, when this is over—when we close up shop on Kevin and the tablet—I'm done. I mean that." Sam told his brother the honest truth of how things were going to be. Dean quietly scoffed as he told his little brother that he wasn't going to. You sat with your lips pressed shut, not wanting to get in the middle of this. "Dean, the year that I took off, I had something I've never had. A normal life. I mean, I got to see what that felt like. I want that. I had that."

“I think that's just how you feel right now.” Dean said, brushing off of this talk as it was just something his brother hadn't been thinking about for the past several weeks since all of you were back. Sam wanted a normal life once before, but it didn't work out. He swore that he would never go back.

And yet here all of you were. You weren't sure whose side you were on anymore. You would always stick with whatever choice Sam would make, along with Dean. If Dean wanted to keep on hunting, you would be right by his side. If Sam wanted to quit hunting and live his happy, normal life with this Amelia woman, you'd wish him nothing but the best. But you knew this decision would split the boys down the middle.

You let out a quiet sigh as you leaned back in your seat as you placed your hand on your stomach to rest for the meantime. You just wish there was something you could do to make the boys stay together as a family with you no matter what they decided to do. You knew they needed something that would keep their mutual happiness a new beginning for them to spark the bond between them that seemed like it disappeared after you left.

[Next Part]

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