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3pirouette · 3 years

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Fic: Domestic Bliss and International Espionage (1/1)

Title: Domestic Bliss and International Espionage By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette Spoilers: General TFA and AC Disclaimer: They're not mine. Word Count: 8109 Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

Story Summary: For Tumblr’s @superhero-daugthers11 as a pinch hit for the Steggy Secret Santa. Steve and Peggy, back in the US after the war, go undercover as a newlywed couple to find a Hydra scientist hiding in the suburbs.

A/N: This is 100% inspired by several things. 1. One of my all-time favorite X-Files Episodes “Arcadia” 2. The first episode of WandaVision 3. My giftee saying she liked the idea of Steggy married/dating and working together for SHIELD, and 4. Getting another Steggy Bingo Prompt in there… sentence prompt: “Did you really just insult Captain America in front of me?”

Please assume/add in your headcanons for the following: Steve was rescued shortly after the Valkyrie crash and OBVIOUSLY has pursued a romantic relationship with Peggy. Due to this, the events of the Agent Carter series have NOT happened. They’re both working for the SSR, tying up loose ends from the war.

Easiest way to see what I see is to imagine Steve and Peggy in the Petrie’s house from the Dick Van Dyke Show… but if you’re not familiar with that, the house from the first episode of WandaVision will do nicely.

~*~

Steve turned from the suitcase where he was lifting folded shirts out. “Just… consider this a test run.”

Peggy smirked, leaning against the doorjamb of the bedroom. She held out her hand, one of Steve’s socks dangling from her two fingers. “What, for me finding your stinky socks on the bathroom floor? Strike one, Rogers.”

Peggy tossed the sock to him, moving into the small bedroom with its double twin beds. She sat heavily on the side of hers, shaking her head. “If this is anything like moving, I’ll never do it again. I’m exhausted.”

Steve tucked his shirts away in the drawer, turning back to her, balling the sock up in his hand and tossing it into the hamper in the closet. “Most houses don’t have top of the line surveillance equipment we would have to hide in the roses.”

“The neighbors are already peeking out,” Peggy said, kicking her shoes off and sliding them under the edge of the bed with her toe. “I saw some from the back door peeking over while I was finishing in the kitchen. I’m sure we’ll have visitors tomorrow.”

Steve grabbed his empty suitcase from the bed and slipped it in the closet, shutting the door. “I’m surprised we didn’t have any today, what with all the commotion of moving in.”

Peggy shrugged, bouncing back to lie on the bed. “In my experience, deep cover Hydra scientists trying to hide out in suburban communities don’t just knock on your door and announce themselves.”

Steve chuckled, moving over to sit on the side of her bed at her hip. He gently took her left hand, running his thumb over the fake wedding band she wore. Peggy smiled up at him. “You know, Angie told me you’d asked her about my ring size.” Steve’s eyebrows rose to his hairline, and she could see his mind trying to scramble to salvage the surprise. “Oh, I know it’s coming, Steve. Don’t try to pretend it isn’t.”

He smiled softly. “I was hoping to surprise you is all.”

“You will,” she whispered, shifting to hold his hand tight. “When, where, how… I’ll try to avoid using my super spy powers on you to divine those things.” She reached her other hand to slide up his arm. “I’m an inpatient woman, so don’t make me wait too long.”

Steve smiled wolfishly at her, leaning over and putting his weight on his left hand, trapping her under him. “I mean, this counts, right?” He leaned down, letting Peggy traverse the last few centimeters to bring their lips together, kissing her sweetly. “This counts as being married?”

She chuckled as she kissed him, reaching one arm up to twine in the short hairs at the nape of his neck. “Absolutely does not.”

He pulled back a bit, teasing. “I mean, I am sleeping right over there…”

“In your own bed,” Peggy pushed them up to sitting, wrapping both arms around his shoulders.

“And it would be so easy to just push them together.”

She shook her head, teasing, despite the fact that the idea seemed like a good one to her. “Scandalous.”

Steve kissed her gently again. “Well, I suppose I should at least pretend to let you get a good night’s sleep?”

Peggy nodded, smiling. “We’ve got a bit of work ahead of us, I think. Very few men trying to hide from prosecution for war crimes make themselves known.”

“Good night then,” he kissed her softly and pushed away from her, “Mrs. Harper.”

Peggy tipped her head with a sultry smile. “Mr. Harper.”

~*~

Peggy moved the eggs around the pan, eyes tight on them as Steve walked into the kitchen the next morning. “Don’t distract me,” she mumbled. “The second I look away they burn.”

He watched her for a moment as she gently stirred the scrambled eggs, eyes intent as he’d ever seen them. “Stove burning too hot?”

“Simply out of practice, I’m afraid. Already ruined four eggs this way.” She pulled the pan off the heat and separated the eggs on to two plates. “Anything I’ve eaten for the last few years has come from a mess, out of a can, or from the automat.” She set the empty pan down and snapped off the heat. “Why you ever married me I’ll never know.”

He moved over, taking both plates and kissing her on the cheek. “Why, I like it so much, I might do it twice.”

Peggy chuckled, moving the pan to the sink and running water in it. “Easy there, soldier. We haven’t made it through this mission yet.” She peeked over at his silence, then turned around all the way, meeting his intent stare. “It’s the apron, isn’t it? I’ve gone too far?”

Steve watched, hands still full of plates, as she spun in her dress, looking for something out of place while her perfect curls bounced around her face like something out of a beauty magazine. He smiled, “No, no- I just…” he cleared his throat, moving to set the plates on the small table in the kitchen. He took a gentle deep breath and moved over to her. “It’s all a little… too perfect, you know? Not quite us, I think, but like something out of a movie.”

Peggy bit her lip, stepping closer to him so he could wrap her in his arms. “This whole thing is a bit spot on.” She played with the edge of his cardigan, the blue doing amazing things for his eyes. “But needs must when trying to build a trap.”

He moved his hand to trace over her chin, feeling content and happy despite the threat. “Will you cook me eggs after this is all over?”

Peggy would her arms around his neck, humming happily. “If you’re a good boy.” After a moment, she pushed back, centering herself. “Though you haven’t eaten them, yet, so you are taking a large chance there, darling.” She pushed him towards the table and followed shortly, two mugs of coffee in her hands.

“Peg—”

“Betty,” she demanded, stopping and looking at him. “I agree that this little fantasy is a bit of a slippery slope for the both of us, but we really must start doing better.” She sat and slid his coffee to him, looking him in eyes pointedly. “Roger.”

Steve nodded, taking the coffee. “Right. Betty,” he paused, the name not rolling off his tongue easily, “I can help with the cooking.”

“And risk someone seeing?” She picked up her fork, face stern. “From this moment on, no matter what, we’re happy newlyweds Roger and Betty Harper. I’m a stay-at-home wife who loves to knit and worked in a bullet factory during the war, you’re a veteran and you do figures at an accounting firm in the city. Perfect little wife, doting husband. Suburban life to a ridiculous, stereotypical T, got it?”

He held out his hand and she took it, looking at her plate rather than at him. “Hey,” he waited until she lifted her eyes. “I was just enjoying it too much. I know our cover. I’m in this one hundred percent, okay?”

Peggy held his hand and squeezed lightly, the smile returning to her face. “Yes, dear.”

~*~

By mid-morning they’d had five of the neighboring wives stop in to introduce themselves. Most were kind, young, gregarious and a bit overly excited to get to know them once Steve showed his face.

“You should stay in the kitchen when the next one comes over,” Peggy complained, sitting heavily on their small couch. “I can’t stand another wide-eyed housewife dazzled by your smile.”

Steve laughed, sitting next to her. “There’s only one housewife I want dazzled by my smile.”

Peggy collapsed into his lap, looking up at him. “She’s a little too tired to be dazzled right now. Somehow social pleasantries are more exhausting than the battlefield.” She closed her eyes, letting Steve’s fingers running through her hair lull her into a sense of calm. “Anything on any of the cameras?”

“No,” Steve didn’t slow his movements as his hand combed through her hair. He’d spent his morning when he wasn’t meeting neighbors “working,” keeping an eye on all of the cameras and equipment they’d set up. “So far just people mowing their lawns and taking walks.” She could feel his chuckle. “Not that I expected to see anyone building a bomb in their back yard…”

She reached up a hand, gently hitting him in the chest. “Don’t be flippant about it. Some people are quite stupid.”

The doorbell rang again and Peggy hoisted herself from Steve’s embrace, straightening her dress and forcing a smile on her face. “You look perfect,” Steve reassured.

She huffed, her eyebrows bouncing high on her forehead as she moved to the front door. “Hello?” She asked, her tone changing as she pulled the door open.

Standing across from her was a young woman, similar in age to Peggy, with sharp features and immaculately styled blonde hair. “Oh, hi! I hope I’m not interrupting?” Her Midwest accent was sharp, just a little too bubbly as she held out the dish she was holding. “I just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood.”

Peggy swept back, opening her arm. “Please come in. I’m Betty and this is my husband, Roger.”

“Dottie Underwood,” she said quickly, smiling back and forth between the both of them. “I brought you some cookies, I baked them fresh last night, and if I leave them around the house I’m afraid my father just eats them all.”

Peggy carefully took the dish, smiling as she set it down. “They look wonderful, thank you.”

Dottie’s eyes swept around the house, somewhat more intent than a simple curious glance. “You’re quite welcome. How are you settling?”

Steve stood tall, smiling brightly as he moved next to Peggy, gently laying his hand on her back. “Well enough, people have been very kind. I think we’ve met most of the neighborhood by now, haven’t we, honey?”

Peggy giggled, leaning into his side and watching how Dottie tried to keep her smile straight. “Oh, at least the whole street, I’m sure.”

“That’s wonderful.” Dottie smiled brightly. “I was hoping maybe you’d come over for dinner tonight? I live with my father and I’m afraid he doesn’t go out much anymore, but he does enjoy meeting everyone.”

Steve and Peggy shared a short look. To the average person it seemed just a husband and wife consulting one another, to the trained eye, the conversation that happened was much more in-depth and quick. “Well,” Steve replied quickly, “I think we’d be delighted.”

“Oh, that’s just wonderful,” Dottie replied, her smile growing wider, eyes sparkling as she moved toward the door. “I’ll go tell father, he’ll be so pleased.”

Dottie smiled at them, the three standing quietly until Steve nudged Peggy I the back. “Oh, yes, is there anything we can bring?” Peggy asked, trying to hide her forgetfulness with a fluster.

Dottie laughed lightly, moving towards the door. “Just yourselves. Six o’clock, sharp.” She stopped, hand on the knob. “We’re the little blue house, 1013, just on the other side of the street.”

Once she was out, Peggy scooted to the window, watching as Dottie meandered down the driveway and sidewalk, eyes never leaving her until she disappeared into her own home. “Did she strike you as…”

“Trying to hard?” Steve supplied, looking over her shoulder. “Suspicious?”

Peggy turned, looking at him, the agent emerging from the housewife. “Do we have a camera on their house?”

Steve smiled. “Rosebush 3.”

~*~

“What do you mean you invited them over?” Fennhoff bellowed, slamming his fist on the small kitchen table. “What about in hiding do you not understand?”

Dottie rolled her eyes at him, sitting across the table. “Sometimes the best place to hide is out in the open, Papa.” The title dripped from her lips, sarcastic and biting. She pulled the notebook he was scribbling in away, forcing him to look at her. “If we want to fit in, we need to get to know these people, make them want to help and protect the old man and his daughter.”

He grabbed the notebook back. “We should stay inside.”

“You can’t build a new identity by staying inside you helpless oaf.” Dottie stood, pushing away from the table and letting the legs of the chair scrape along the floor. She rounded the small table, leaning over the scientist’s shoulder, eyes dark. “My job is to protect you until Hydra builds itself back up and is ready for you to come back. You trust me, or you get caught. Your call.”

He pursed his lips tight, unhappy. “We should be at their home, going through their things.”

Dottie made a noise in the back of her throat as she rolled her eyes and moved away. “Like I haven’t thought of that.” She moved away, leaning on the kitchen counter. “I’ve already told them you’re unwell. At some point we’ll make your excuses and you can go see what you can find.”

His eyes narrowed dangerously. “I am not the one who is a spy, you are.”

Dottie smiled like a snake, her teeth sharp and gleaming in the light. “You’re whatever I tell you you are until this whole thing is over.”

~*~

Steve looked at the young man across the dinner table, knowing he was lying. As hard as he’d tried to get in the Army, there had been more people trying just as hard, if not harder, to get out of it. “4F you say?”

“Yeah,” Dan from across the street cleared his throat. “Asthma. Wouldn’t let me enlist over a little thing like that.”

Dinner was a strained affair. Steve and Peggy saw upon their arrival that they hadn’t been the only people invited. Dottie has also invited her neighbors, Dan and Laura Smythe, to try to help them get to know people. Though they tried to keep the conversation moving, it was stilted and uncomfortable. Dottie, all smiles, kept trying to shift topics of conversation while her father sat grumpily at the head of the table.

“Beastly affair, that war.” Dottie’s feigned sadness was easy to see through. “It’s how I lost my Earnie.”

Laura wasn’t quite as sharp as Peggy and fell for the faux sadness, letting her hand rest on the woman’s arm. “Your beau?”

“We were engaged,” Dottie continued, sniffling dramatically. “He was a pilot with the 107th, got shot down over enemy territory.”

Steve and Peggy shared a look. There hadn’t been any pilots in the 107th, definitely none named Earnie. A quick glance at the older Underwood revealed nothing. He had no feelings about the loss of the man who supposedly was going to marry his daughter, which struck them both as odd.

Laura, however, was eating it up. “Was he one of the soldier’s that Captain America saved in that amazing rescue? Didn’t he save nearly that whole battalion?”

Dottie shook her head. “No, he was lost just before that, I’m afraid.”

“Well, that didn’t happen, anyway.” Steve said with a bold confidence that made every face turn and look at him.

Peggy’s jaw tightened as she turned to him, putting a hand to his arm. “Darling.”

“No, you know how I feel about this, Betty.” Steve turned and patted her hand, every inch the dismissive husband. “I was out there, fighting for my life, fighting to get back to you, and they parade this guy around in tights on newsreels?”

“Laura and I saw him at one of those USO shows,” Dan started, causing Peggy to squeeze Steve’s arm in concern that their ruse was about to fall apart, “I swear I saw wires. Guy was an actor and a hack.”

“Right?” Steve threw up his hand, nodding appreciatively at the man. “No way he was that strong.”

Laura giggled a bit, leaning towards Dottie. “He was quite handsome, though, don’t you think?”

Dottie, hoping to defuse some of the tension she could feel radiating around the table, just laughed along. “Oh yes, very handsome.” Dottie turned her smile across the table. “Did you ever get to see him, Betty?”

Peggy folded her hands under the table. “Oh, a few times.” She snuck a look at Steve then leaned forward, whispering towards the women though she knew full well everyone could hear her. “Those tights were quite the uniform!”

The women giggled, Dan pressed his lips into a tight line, and Steve had to bite his tongue to keep a straight face. The elder Underwood, for his part, was growing more and more upset.

“That man won them the war,” the elder Underwood grumbled.

“Impossible.” Steve turned to him, almost enjoying the part he was playing. “Hollywood smoke and mirrors. I was out there and I never saw him or that shield. Not once.”

Underwood pushed himself away from the table, his face growing red. “Did you really just insult Captain America in front of me?” He stood, leaning over Peggy and Steve with enough menace that Steve put his arm across Peggy, ready to move her behind him if the man became any more aggressive. “You come into my house and you say these things?”

Steve had been having fun with their plan to insult his alter ego, see if their hosts were sympathetic, showed any leanings to the Axis powers, but this hit home. He knew people had idolized him, and as much as that had made him uncomfortable, he understood how important it was to have a symbol of hope in such a bleak time.

Before Steve could reply and apologize the man stormed off. Dottie stood, stuttering an apology, and followed him into the house.

“Well, I for one am with you,” Dan said, raising his fork and diving back into his dinner. “Man was a fraud.”

Peggy grabbed Steve’s hand under the table and squeezed.

~*~

“What was that back there?” Dottie demanded in a hushed voice once she’d closed the door to Fennhoff’s room behind them.

“Distraction,” he said sharply, his accent becoming more pronounced. “You want distraction, you get distraction.”

Dottie huffed, crossing her arms. “And what am I supposed to tell them now?”

“That your father is a great patriot. That he needs his rest. You say whatever you say while I go pretend to be spy.” Fennhoff waved her away and opened the window in his room, grumbling about how he was supposed to slip out. “Lock the door.”

~*~

Steve stood as Dottie joined them back at the table. “I should go apologize.”

“No, no,” Dottie shooed him back to his seat. “My father gets grumpy sometimes. He just needed to take his pills and lay down for a spell.” She sat herself back down and laid her napkin on her lap with deliberate flair. “It’ll all be forgotten after a quick nap, I promise.”

“Still, I’d feel better if I could,” Steve reluctantly sat, rearranging his own napkin.

“I’m sure he’ll be back out in a bit.” She smiled widely, a motion that did not reach her eyes. “He just never misses dessert!”

~*~

Anyone fluent in Russian would have been scandalized at the string of words coming from Fennhoff’s lips as he snuck into the back of the Harper home.

“Don’t even lock their doors,” Fennhoff mumbled as he slipped in their back door. He moved carefully through the dark kitchen, futilely opening and closing cabinets. He did not expect to find anything in the home of that vapid man who didn’t believe Captain America was real.

He’d seen the damage that man could do with his own eyes. Anyone who believed Captain America hadn’t won the war for the Allied forces was either dimwitted, a fool, or both.

He tried to stay quiet as he moved through the house, but there wasn’t much light and even less to see that was interesting. The house was only sparsely decorated with few, if any, places to hide things. He made his rounds quickly, opening and closing closets and doors and saw nothing that would make him think these people were anything other than what they said they were: boring American suburbanites.

He stopped on his way out and opened the small broom closet he’d neglected on the way in, sighing when there was nothing more than a broom, mop, and bucket there.

“Dumb woman spy,” he mumbled, letting himself out quietly.

~*~

“Next time we’ll have you over,” Peggy said, holding both of Dottie’s hands at the door. “Dinner was simply marvelous.”

“Oh, shucks,” Dottie took one hand to bat the compliment away. “It was so lovely to get to know you and welcome you to the neighborhood.”

The corner of Steve’s mouth crooked up sadly. “Please give my apologies to your father.”

“No need,” she reached out, stroking Steve’s shoulder in a motion that was just slightly more than neighborly. “He’s a stubborn old man and you are a great war hero, Mr. Harper. You’re allowed a difference of opinion, especially since you were there.”

“All the same,” Steve stepped back out of her reach, taking Peggy’s hand and moving away. He felt like if he didn’t escape, they’d be exchanging pleasantries all night. “Have a great night.”

“You too!” Dottie called, watching from the door as they turned.

Steve pressed his hand to Peggy’s back, pushing her down the pavement just a little faster. “She’s still watching,” he mumbled. “Gosh, such lovely neighbors around here, don’t you think, honey?” he let his voice drift louder.

“Absolutely, darling. I’m so excited to get to know them all. Maybe join the Women’s Auxiliary.” Peggy leaned closer to Steve, her voice lower now, “Is she still watching? My face hurts from smiling.”

“Few more feet, dear,” he whispered. He leaned down, “I think Dan and Laura are out there now,” he pointed to his ear, signaling he could hear them talking, “Want to give them a show?”

Peggy raised her eyebrow, the false suburban smile she’d been sporting morphing into a smirk he was much more used to seeing on her face. “Show?”

He led her up the steps, stopping to dig the keys out of his pocket. Once he did, he reached out and unlocked the door, pushing it open. Before she could step in, he swept her off her feet, carrying her like she was a brand-new bride. Peggy squeaked, grabbing on to his shoulders more out of surprise than fear that he would drop her on the front porch.

She laughed. “This is what you had in mind?”

He leaned forward, kissing her gently. “Gotta sell that newlywed cover,” he whispered against her lips. “They watching?”

Peggy shifted her head as he turned them a bit, his lips on hers again. Peggy squinted, making it look like her eyes were closed. She didn’t normally like to do double duty while Steve was kissing her, but he managed to avoid distracting her too badly. She could see the Smythe’s and Dottie on the porch, eyes glues to them. From the window, the elder Underwood peaked out. Peggy dragged her lips away. “All watching. And slightly scandalized.”

“They’ll be very scandalized in a minute,” he mumbled, kissing down her neck.

Peggy hit him playfully in the shoulder. “Barbarian!” She laughed as he growled in her ear. “Inside at once!” She kicked a bit as he straightened up, laughing as he bounced her in his arms. Steve made a show of almost losing his balance and nearly dropping her as he stepped over the threshold for their audience. For good measure he kicked the door closed, wishing he could see all of their faces.

He’d absolutely go back and check the surveillance tapes just to see what they looked like.

He turned, putting Peggy down and pressing her up against the door, letting his lips meet hers again. “That was fun.”

She hummed happily, but pushed him away. “Quite, but we still have work to do.” She moved past him, then stopped as she flipped on the light. She held out her hand, then pointed. “And you made fun of me for vacuuming us out before we left.”

“You were wearing pearls and an evening dress.” Steve pointed out, bending low to look at the fresh footprints that showed against the new, freshly cleaned nap of the carpet. “What do you think?”

“Man’s shoe, fairly large.” Peggy moved around, following the path. “Came from the kitchen, so… in through the back door.”

“Looks like he took a peek in each room,” Steve added, opening the doors and following the trail, “then back through the kitchen to go out.”

“You think they found…” Peggy started, but didn’t finish, following Steve into the kitchen and watching as he opened the closet door.

“Doubt it, everything’s exactly as I left it, including that little bit of flour by the wall.” He smiled up at her, trying to show off the tricks he’d slowly been learning from her since they’d been working together stateside. He warmed at bit at her smile, then moved the mop, broom, and bucket. With a firm push to one side of the back wall, it spun, sweeping the flour on the floor into a wide, tell-tale circle and revealing that the closet was actually three times the size, hiding a small bank of monitors and recording equipment. “Shall we?”

They both slipped in the small space, Steve on the stool he occupied for most of the day while surveilling, Peggy peering over his shoulder as he found the reel trained on their back door and rolled it back. It was fuzzy in the darkness, but the figure creeping through their rosebushes seemed quite familiar. “Is that Underwood?” Peggy asked, waiting for Steve to roll the tape back and forth until they had a fairly clear picture.

“Looks like it,” Steve mumbled, marking down the time and reel for future reference. “What do you think he’s looking for?”

“Same as we are,” Peggy said quietly, slipping from the closet to lean on the door jamb. “If they’re in hiding, they’re looking out for anyone wanting to find them.”

Steve reloaded some of the reels, marking others and setting the film aside to review tomorrow. Peggy watched him work, smiling as he rolled up his sleeves, concentration fully on his task. She leaned on the doorway, slipping off her heels and content to just be for the moment. Steve slipped out of the hidden space, pushing the fake wall back in place and sweeping the flour back into an indistinguishable line along the bottom of the wall.

“Do you think it will be like this?” Peggy mused, watching as he ran a damp cloth along the visible floor of the closet, hiding the existence of the flour even further to sell their ruse.

“Do I think what will be like what?” Steve asked, standing and laying the wet dishcloth over the back of a chair to dry.

Peggy bounced over to him on her toes, hands holding her heels behind her back, hips swaying and swinging her skirt around her in a manner that was much more carefree than Steve had seen her in a long time. “Do you think our marriage will be like this? Domestic bliss and snogging against the front door one minute and international espionage the next?”

Steve tilted his head, his forehead creasing in thought as he wrapped his arms around her. “You know, it probably will. Though I’d like to say we’ll need much less surveillance at our house.”

“Our house…” she mused, smiling widely. “Kind of thrilling, isn’t it?” Peggy wrapped her arms around him with a sly smile, heels still dangling from her fingers.

His brows knit together for just a brief moment, the concern replaced by amusement on his face. “I don’t think life with you will ever be boring, dear.” He leaned down, kissing her gently.

Peggy leaned back, eyes still closed, a smile on her lips. She blinked her eyes open, half lidded and dreamy. “What say you to pushing the beds together tonight, Mr. Harper?”

He kissed her again, nipping at her bottom lip. “Sounds like an excellent idea to me.” Without warning, Steve bent his knees, grabbing behind her thighs and lifting her up.

She wrapped her legs around his hips, a sly smile on her face. “You enjoy showing off like that, don’t you?”

“For you?” His smile lit up his face. “Absolutely.”

Her face went blank, her eyes darting around the room as if people were there that might overhear her. “Small confession.” She leaned close to him, eyes sincere. “If, tomorrow, you woke up and were that 98 pound asthmatic man I first met, I’d love you all the same. But, and I’ll deny this until the day I die to anyone else,” her eyes grew mischievous, “I like it when you show off very much. Please don’t ever stop.”

He laughed, full and hearty, as he started to move toward the bedroom. Peggy bounced her heel off his lower back, trying to turn him like a horse. “Ah! Back, soldier. We’ve got doors to lock!”

Steve laughed, turning back and shifting her to his hip so he could see and secure the house without having to put her down. “Yes, ma’am!”

~*~

“They are not spies,” Fennhoff insisted, pushing past Dottie.

She shook her head, closing the cabinet door with more force than necessary. The kitchen was still in a state from the dinner party and as usual she was left to clean everything up. “I’m telling you, you’re wrong. You just didn’t know where to look.”

The man grumbled and disappeared down the hall, the sound of his bedroom door slamming and locking echoing through the house.

~*~

The morning sun was bright coming through the front room’s picture window. Steve squinted as he stepped up behind Peggy, wrapping one arm around her waist as his other hand wound around her to offer her the cup of tea he held. “A little sunny, isn’t it?”

She hummed in agreement as she took and sipped her tea, her eyes never leaving the street where they were staring intently. “See that tabby?”

He followed her line of sight, things clearer as he got used to the brightness, to the small grey cat bouncing up and down the curb across the street outside of Dottie’s house. “I mean, it’s cute, but I don’t think right now is the best time to get a pet, Betty.” A soft humor infused his voice, knowing that Peggy’s plans were far past pets as she stayed intent on the creature.

“Hum, maybe not. But nevertheless, it’s been in and out of our yard, too, and I’ve noticed it doesn’t have a collar.” She let her free hand run over the arm around her waist. “What’s the range on those bugs Howard gave us?”

“With a direct line of sight, 100 yards.” He shrugged, thinking. “Obscured? Maybe 50. Could be more or less depending on what’s between us and it.” He buried his nose in her hair, inhaling her soft scent before pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “You have a plan.”

She turned and smiled at him. “I have a plan.”

~*~

It started with a small saucer of milk late that morning. Peggy left it on the front stoop and spent a little while just sitting outside next to it, waving at neighbors and smiling. “You haven’t seen that little grey tabby, have you?” she would ask each passing person, concern all over her face, “I got a glimpse of him this morning and I could have sworn he was limping!”

By the afternoon, Steve was trying very hard to keep a straight face as he helped her “search” for the cat in their yard.

Just before dinner, Peggy palmed the small listening device, a thin disk that was barely the size of a quarter, and headed across the street, making tiny whispering and clicking noises, eyes, wide and sad.

Laura Smythe popped her head out of her kitchen window as Peggy knelt next to the storm drain between their house and Dottie’s. “Betty? Are you ok?”

“Oh, fine, Laura!” She stood and waved, her face tight. “I just could have sworn I saw that little grey stray cat and it was limping. I just want to make sure the poor thing is okay.” She huffed and stood, straightening her skirt. “Have you seen him?”

Laura shook her head. “Not since yesterday.” She smiled at Peggy. “So sweet of you to want to try to help him.”

“Well thanks, I—oh!” Peggy turned, eyes set on Dottie’s front yard. With a fake wobble in her heels, she was more adept in running in them than she’d like everyone to know, she darted towards the azalea bush and stopped short. She smiled back at Laura, “I think I’ve got him!” With a smile that had nothing to do with a cat, Peggy pushed her way into the bush and along the front side of the house. She made some noise, swished the plant a few times, and smiled to herself. It was going perfectly.

Dottie was on her porch before Peggy could even catch her breath from the run over, voice loud. “Goodness, Betty, what are you doing?” She demanded, incensed.

Peggy stood, using the ledge of the window to haul herself up and the exaggerated surprise she feigned to hide how she set the small bug in the corner of the sill and the window. “Oh! Dottie I hope I didn’t startle you!”

Dottie, less neighborly than yesterday, started at her. “You did, Betty. Why are you in my bushes?”

Peggy dropped her head, shaking it sadly. “Oh, I just saw that poor neighborhood cat limping this morning and I’ve been trying to get my hands on him and see if he was ok. I could have sworn I saw him over here!” Peggy looked around herself, as if she was just noticing what a mess she made. “Oh, goodness, what have I done? I just don’t think sometimes!”

Dottie couldn’t hide the suspicion on her face, but stepped down and offered Peggy her hand. “Let me help you out.”

“Oh, I am so sorry! Your beautiful flowers!” Peggy brushed the leaves and petals from her dress and gestured towards the slightly rumpled bush. “I’ll pay for any damages, I am so, so very sorry.”

“No need,” Dottie said coolly, her smile never reaching her eyes. “I never liked that one anyway.”

~*~

Steve was still laughing when she made her way back into the house. She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t deny that it must have looked a sight. “You almost done?” She crossed her arms, trying to hide her smile as she leaned against the counter.

He was still catching his breath as he emerged from his small control center in the broom closet, hand pressed to his chest. “Oh… oh that was priceless.”

She eyed him as he moved closer, leaning his hands on the counter on either side of her and looming with a bright smile on his face. Peggy rested her hand on his shoulders, enjoying the closeness. “Yes, but did it work?”

He nodded, reaching up with one hand and picking leaves and petals from her hair. He picked the last one and held the pink petal up for her to see. “It did. Not the clearest sound, but good enough.” He kissed her quickly, a peck full of pride and happiness. “You’re brilliant.”

“Why, thank you,” she replied happily, lifting up on her toes for another brief kiss before she ducked away under his arm. “Then you’re making dinner. I’m simply exhausted from looking for that cat all day!”

~*~

The chatter from the Underwood residence was tinny and quiet, but there wasn’t much to expect from the small transmitter. It did its job and Steve and Peggy could hear clear enough the woman and her father bickering in half sentences. Anytime they were in the back of the house they were out of range, but the front room and kitchen came in clear enough.

“They know they’re being monitored,” Peggy sighed, pulling off her headphones. Dottie’s tone had been harsh and clipped, and more than once her “father” had stopped short mid-sentence, either because he didn’t want to keep talking or because Dottie wanted him stopped.

Steve pulled off his own headphones and leaned back. He tried to stretch but his arms hit the wall of the small closet. “You’re right. They’re far too close lipped.”

“And the language is not nearly familiar enough to be father and daughter,” Peggy muttered, scooting to the side and leaning back onto Steve’s shoulder. His arm would around her immediately, stroking over her upper arm. “I’m not sold that they’re who we’re looking for, but I know they’re not who they say they are.”

Steve tipped his head into hers, cuddling close for a second. “What do you think? Time to turn in?”

She nodded against him “They’ll still be there tomorrow, I suppose.”

~*~

Peggy snuck out of her bed, tiptoeing as she picked up her robe and slippers, trying to avoid waking Steve in the middle of the night.

“Peg?” he murmured, turning.

She stopped, shifting her load to one hand to push his hair out of his eyes with the other as she bent by his bed. “Can’t sleep. Just getting some water.”

He hummed as her fingers moved over his cheek, catching her hand in his and turning his head to kiss her palm. “Don’t be long. You need to rest.”

She smiled as his eyes fluttered closed, sleep already pulling him back. “I’ll do my best, darling.”

Peggy slipped through the bedroom door, closing it behind her before wrapping herself in the robe and putting the slippers on her feet. There was a chill in the air, enough to make her wrap her arms around herself as she moved through the living room and to the kitchen.

She didn’t bother with the lights, the moonlight through the windows was enough to see by. She’d been lying in bed for hours, her mind running over scenarios of who the mysterious “father” and “daughter” team across the street could really be. She quietly opened the refrigerator, pulling out the orange juice. She filled the first glass she found and slipped the bottle back, sitting at the table in the darkness. She’d been expecting to find a man named Fennhoff masquerading as a widower. They didn’t know much about him, never mind what he looked like, but the presence of Dottie was baffling to her. The woman was suspicious and sharp, and deep inside Peggy thought she was smarter than she let on.

Peggy sipped her juice, not really wanting it but needing something to do with her hands. She thought about slipping back into the little closet, reviewing the tapes for the night, but decided against it. She needed to shut off her mind, quiet it, not rile it up. She needed rest so she could figure out what their next step would be. Steve was good, and getting better every day, but his real expertise was on the battlefield, not as a spy, and he still deferred to her in almost all matters for missions. She needed to be ready with a new plan by the time the alarm clock went off in the morning.

She wasn’t sure how long she was sitting in the dark, letting her mind wander, before she heard it: soft, crunching footsteps in the backyard. She lifted her glass and slowly made her way to behind the counter, crouched low and waiting. She didn’t have much of an advantage, but the juice would at least sting enough to give her the element of surprise.

Peggy steeled herself as she heard the doorknob slowly turn, the person jiggling it gently to confirm the lock was thrown. She slowed her breathing, mind clear and ready for anything as she heard the soft click of lock picks and the tumblers moving in place. The door opened almost silently, a small figure slipping in based on the shadow Peggy could see along the wall.

The person slipped in, looking quietly around the room. Peggy held her breath, waiting as the footsteps got closer, waiting for the person to be just close enough.

Without thought she stood, tossing the juice towards the intruder.

Dottie Underwood screeched as the acidic juice burned her eyes, stumbling back.

Peggy pressed forward, pushing her against the cabinets with both hands. She knew the rattle was loud enough to wake Steve and that he’d be there to back her up any moment. “What are you doing here?”

Dottie, eyes red and blinking furiously, took only a second to choose between lying and the truth. Truth, though, didn’t quite come with words. Instead, she threw her head forward, connecting her forehead with Peggy’s with a sickening crack. Peggy stumbled back, but had the advantage of knowing exactly where everything was in the kitchen. She didn’t need to look to get the pan from the stove, sitting and waiting for breakfast to be cooked up in a few hours, and swing it around.

Dottie threw a hand up just in time to keep the pan from connecting with her skull, and grabbed Peggy’s arm with her free one, grappling and forcing her to drop the pan with a clatter.

“Who are you?” Peggy ground out between her teeth, grabbing a fistful of hair and using that to hold Dottie in her frame of vision.

Dottie countered with a leg sweep, sending Peggy toppling over and off her feet. Peggy didn’t let go, though, and Dottie went down with her, landing them both between the island and the counter. “Just a concerned neighbor,” Dottie managed to huff out, pushing with her legs to try to get the upper hand and roll on top of Peggy. “Thought I saw a robber.”

“How kind,” Peggy grunted, managing to get her hand on a corner of the cabinet and use the leverage to get a leg out so she could knee the woman in the chest. Dottie lost her breath, leaving room for Peggy to pounce once again as she stumbled to stand and move away from her. Peggy started to move towards her again just as Steve rushed through the door of the kitchen, eyes wide and in nothing more than his pajama pants.

Steve’s arrival somewhat stymied Dottie. She paused, still trying to catch her breath, with Peggy huffing beside her. Steve looked between the two women and Peggy stared at him, disbelief in her eyes. “Her, please!”

Steve snatched Dottie around the waist and lifted her off her feet, keeping his head away from her flailing arms as she struggled. Peggy pulled the tie from her robe, using it to secure her hands behind her back once Steve had set her in one of the kitchen chairs.

“Still plan on sticking to your story,” Peggy huffed, sitting across from her as Steve stood guard, “or are you going to tell us what we need to know?”

Dottie smiled like a shark, her red, tearing eyes fighting the visual she wanted to present. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Peggy and Steve shared a look, and without a word he slipped out of the kitchen, headed back to the bedroom.

Dottie watched as he returned only moments later with a shirt and shoes to go with the pants, and a very brightly painted shield on his arm. He stepped in the kitchen and handed Peggy her gun before he disappeared out the front door.

Dottie winced; her eyes painful. “Betty, is it? Are you two even married?”

“Does it matter?” Peggy asked pragmatically, rounding the woman and checking her bindings. “I think what matters here is that you’re hiding something and I’d very much like to know what it is.”

“Do you have twin beds? Or just one big bed?” Dottie asked dreamily. “If I could have that in my bed…” she hummed, the salacious tone somewhat ineffective when combined with her sniffles.

“Are you here on behalf of Hydra?” Peggy asked, picking up a towel and mopping the orange juice from the floor.

Dottie continued rambling. “I mean, that’s one hundred percent American beefcake right there. USDA Prime. And strong.” She sighed happily. “When he picked me up… mmm mmm mmm.”

Peggy rolled her eyes behind the woman, picking the pan from the floor. “What about that man you’re with?”

“Oh, he’s about to have his day ruined.” Dottie laughed manically. “You see, when that Greek God of a man of yours riled him up about Captain America, he wasn’t lying. He gets riled up. Mostly because he hates him so much.” She laughed again. “When he wakes up and sees that shield over him… oh, he might just have a heart attack.”

Peggy checked the robe tie as she passed again, knowing it was hardly enough to secure someone who knew what they were doing before she opened the broom closet and pushed out the fake wall. “Last chance to give me anything before I throw you to the wolves.”

Dottie just sat, head held high, eyes still watering.

“Have it your way.” Peggy reached in and pulled out a beacon, tapping it twice. “The cavalry will be here shortly.”

~*~

Steve didn’t exactly feel fantastic about waking the old man up, but when he started cursing in Russian at him and pulled a gun from under his pillow, Steve reassessed his position.

He still felt bad when he had to knock him out though.

~*~

Peggy stood at the doorway, watching the rest of the SSR team pack the surveillance equipment away and hurry the rented furniture back in the truck as the forensics team was going over Dottie’s house. Dottie was safely in custody and Peggy would be interrogating her tomorrow at the SSR when everything was back to normal. It had been only four days since they moved in, but Peggy could admit, at least to herself, that she’d enjoyed playing house.

Steve came up behind her, his hands still at his sides rather than at her hips. They’d set clear ground rules when it came to the office and the SSR, and that meant no touching in front of co-workers. The absence of his hands when he was so close was causing the hairs on her arms to stand at attention. “What do you think about suburbia?” she questioned lightly, though it weighed heavily on her mind.

“Well, when there aren’t sleeper Hydra Agents hiding in it, it seems pleasant enough to me.” He shrugged, leaning on the doorjamb to look at her. “I grew up in the city, but I’m not attached to that as some idyllic idea of what life should be. Might be nice to have a little garden, some grass to cut, a front yard to build a snowman in and rake leaves…”

Peggy jutted her chin out the to Smythe house, where, like everyone else on the street, Dan and Laura were looking out the window, trying to get every bit of gossip they could. “Neighbors being neighborly.”

Steve dropped his voice. “I think we’d do well in someplace like this.”

Peggy smiled up at him before turning back to the men in the yard. “Agreed.”

“It should be bigger, though, to make room for the kids.” He nudged her with his elbow, a smile threatening to break out on his face. “Four, at least.”

Peggy raised her eyebrows at him. “Two.”

“Only two?” He asked, partially teasing and partially actually let down.

Peggy turned so the men in the yard couldn’t see or hear what she was saying. “Will you be popping them out then? Because until you are, I think the person actually carrying the children should have her opinion weighed slightly more.”

He nodded, eyebrows together tightly. “Point taken.”

She stepped closer, nudging him with her shoulder. “Perhaps we start with one, and see how we do, hum?” She pushed past him, the bump intentional and flirty. “Besides, I’m still waiting on that ring.”

Steve smiled out at the front yard, shoving his hands in his pockets. Good thing the ring was sitting back in his apartment in the top drawer of his dresser. Seeing as this little test run had gone well, maybe he’d pop the question sooner rather than later.

Domestic bliss and international espionage… Steve couldn’t think of anything he’d like more.

#steggy secret santa #Steggy Bingo Bash #superhero-daugthers11 #Steggy Fic #3P's Fic

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schrijverr · 3 years

Text

'Till Death Do Us Part

Part 4 out of 13

When Alex has to bring Philip to work, he and Thomas discover that they both have something in common: they lost their love. They form an unexpected bond and connection about this that grows into something more.

A medium burn with parental feelings about Philip and flowers.

On AO3.

Ships: Jamilton

Warnings: brief mentions of death

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

Chapter 4: Cornflowers Means ‘Delicacy’

Thomas felt as if he’d gotten Martha’s blessing to pursue Alex. He had wanted to before, but he’d felt guilty towards her, so instead he had riled the other up and argued with him.

But now…

With their tentative friendship evolving every day, the sudden email reminding him to keep living seemed like a sign. Maybe that was stupid, but Thomas was going to cling to it. Though he had to figure out how to work up the courage to flirt first.

He was absolutely hopeless at the whole thing. He’d started bribing Alex with food, making sure the other ate lunch everyday as a way in.

It was a slow process, but yesterday Alex had shown up at his office with a bag with two bagels in it when Thomas had gotten lost in his work and forgotten the time. He’d shrugged: “Seemed only fair to chip in myself for a change.”

Instead of using it as a way to thank him or something, Thomas had made a joke about Alex finally stopping with mooching off him, which had only earned him a small shove, before they had started an argument about the usefulness of the hole in the middle of a bagel.

Thomas was close to ripping his hair out in frustration.

Martha had flirted with him, he had never done this. He had no clue what he should be doing and James was absolutely no help. When he had asked him the man had simply said: “Too aroace, Tom.”

So now he was going to the one other person who could help him with this, but by God did he dread it.

“Hi, Thomas, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Hello, Angie,” he replied, holding up a bottle of red wine, “Can I embarrass myself again and have you tell me I’m stupid before helping me?”

Angelica grinned: “With love. Here, come in.”

Thomas came in and dropped the wine on the kitchen counter of her apartment, before throwing himself on the couch with a groan. That earned him an eyeroll from Angelica, who poured them both a glass of wine, before pushing his legs of the couch and sitting down.

“Pizza and a romcom?” she asked, phone already in hand.

“Yeah, let’s be fully trashy,” Thomas agreed.

“You love trashy.”

“I truly do.”

Angelica ordered the pizza and waited for Thomas to leave behind the shelter of a pillow. He finally did and took a large gulp of his wine, before he said: “I don’t know how to flirt.”

“What?” out of all the things, Angelica had not seen that coming, but the realization hit her: “Oh my God are you trying to shoot your shot with Alex?”

“Maybe?” his voice was unsure and small and Angelica was living.

“Are you for real?” she exclaimed, “Tell me everything! Leave out no details. Holy fuck, this is great.”

“Glad you’re enjoying yourself,” he said miserably.

“You can’t just ask me about advise to flirt with a guy, whom you’ve been crushing on for years while claiming you were never going to go after it and expect me to not get excited about it, Thomas. I mean come on, what changed?”

“I mean, me and Alex are kind of friends now and then-” he hesitated, unsure if he wanted to tell Angelica about the email from Martha, “then I got a reminder- it’s a long story.”

“Tell me,” Angelica demanded.

“You remember Alex brought Philip with him to work?” Thomas began.

“Yeah, that was four months ago, though.”

“Well, me and Alex talked and I told him about Martha, because Philip had told me about John, remember that?” he asked.

Angelica nodded.

“He called me,” Thomas went on, “It was John’s birthday and he was struggling and I had told him he could always talk to me and stuff, so he did. We bought Philip a Halloween costume and then we went to John’s grave so that he could show it to him.”

“Oh shit,” Angelica took a big gulp of her wine, “That’s a lot heavier than I was expecting, sorry. I didn’t know that part, he told us he handled John’s birthday well.”

“I mean, he did, sort off,” Thomas said, “Don’t let him know you know, I don’t know if he wanted me to tell you. But in the end it was a good day.”

“John loved Halloween.”

“Thought so, Alex mentioned Philip getting excited about his costume,” Thomas told her.

Angelica cringed in sympathy.

“Anyway, we spend John’s birthday together and after that it was different in the office and stuff and I brought him lunch-”

“You brought him lunch!”

“He had forgotten, what was I supposed to do? Was that weird?” Thomas sounded scared, Alex hadn’t seem to mind and he did it after. WouldAlex be mad at him?

“No, no, not bad,” Angelica quickly assured him, “Just sweet.”

“Then why did you react like that?” Thomas hissed, stress outing itself.

“Because I haven’t seen Alex eat in break room since forever,” Angelica replied, “He deflects every time I asked, we were already planning an intervention or something.”

“Oh,” Thomas didn’t know what to say to that, “Well, you don’t, he’s been eating fine.”

“Thank God for that, Eliza can be scary.”

Thomas huffed out a laugh at that, before proceeding: “So, I brought him lunch and he thanked me and said that I could call him if needed too.”

“How precious.”

“So I did,” Thomas decided that after sharing about John’s birthday to Angelica it would only be fair to tell her about himself as well, “Because Martha had send me an email – it was a site thing, send emails to the future and stuff – and, well, that was an unexpected punch to the gut.”

“Are you okay, Tommy?” Angelica’s brows were concerned, “I didn’t hear you about it.”

“It’s fine, Angie,” he assured her, “Me and Alex watched movies all day and just reminisced about her, it was nice. But in the email, Martha told me to move on from her.”

“She knows you too well,” Angelica smiled softly, she had known Martha herself and had seen first hand how devastated Thomas was after her death.

“Yeah, so that’s what I’ve been trying to do for the past few months, but I. Can’t. Flirt,” he fell back dramatically once more.

“God, you’re hopeless,” Angelica said, “Luckily I am here to save you, I am the best wingwoman known to man.”

“I hope you’re right, because being friends with Alex is killing me. Do you know how cute that motherfucker can be?” Thomas told her, “He has these big ass smiles and these little giggles and they are designed to kill me.”

Angelica smiled fondly, slight hurt in her eyes as a different person with the same complaints flashed in front of her eyes.

The bell rang and Angelica quickly got their pizzas before she sat down to form a game plan, which she privately named ‘Plan Jamilton’.

“Okay, so first up, what is a regular day with Alex like? So an office day, but then I don’t have to hear about your boring meetings unless Alex is involved,” she asked.

“I get in, he’s usually in the break room getting coffee, we talk – well, argue, but not mean – about whatever, we work, we eat lunch, then work some more, then I tell him to home if it’s not Tuesday or Friday, because he goes home earlier on those day, because he has to get Philip from school,” Thomas listed, then shrugged: “Meetings are still the same.”

“Huh, is that why I couldn't find him last Tuesday?”

“Yeah, normally Philip gets picked up by one of his Aunts or Un- you know that, sorry,” Thomas cut himself off.

“I know the others pick Philip up from time to time and that Alex hires a babysitter, I didn’t know there was a pattern,” Angelica confessed, “I’m more the fun Aunt that shows up from time to time with presents, Eliza is more the overly involved Aunt, but that’s fair since Philip was in her for nine months.”

“Touche.”

“Anyways, you and Alex seem to talk a few times during the day. Morning and lunch and before he goes home, all good opportunities,” she suggested.

“I’m aware, but then I’d have to know what to say, don’t I, Angie,” Thomas pointed out.

“Alex is a natural flirter, give him a push and he’ll do most of the work.”

“But then what do I do? How do I react to him flirting? That’ll be bad for my soul,” Thomas whined.

“Think of it like banter, you two do it all the time,” Angelica rolled her eyes, “Just maybe make it a bit more suggestive here and there, add innuendos. I think you can manage that.”

“And what if Alex thinks it’s weird or if he’s just doing it because he’s flirty?” Thomas worried, “I mean, you said it yourself that he’s naturally flirty, what if he doesn’t think anything of it and then I am the weird one and he hates me.”

“He’s not going to hate you, you idiot,” Angelica rolled her eyes, “He likes you.”

“What? How do you know that?” Thomas needed answers and he needed them now.

“Technically, I don’t, but-”

“Then you have no ground to stand on and I shouldn’t risk it.”

“Let me talk, Thomas Jefferson,” the full name shut him up, “As I wanted to say: Technically, I don’t know for sure if he likes you, but he has stopped complaining about you and last week he said you might have shit ideas on company policy, but you had great taste in classical writers. He loves classical writers. That’s huge for him.”

“That’s hardly anything, Angie.”

“And Laf asked me what was up between you two,” Angelica played her ace.

“Laf thinks there is something up between us two?” Thomas took the bait as predicted, hopeful puppy eyes that shouldn’t be adorable on a 6’3, grown man.

“Yeah, he said – and I quote – Hm, did you notice anything off between mon petit lionand our dear Thomas, those two seems to be getting closer,non?”

“Your French accent is horrible.”

“Not the focus, Tommy. The focus is that he wiggled his brows about it.”

“He wiggled his brows?”

“Yes, he only does that if he is super certain of his observations or if he knows something. I’m still figuring out which one it is,” Angelica informed him.

“So maybe Alex said something to him?” Thomas suggested.

“Maybe, but you’d have to ask him.”

“I’m not going to ask him.”

“Why not?”

“Because he is a nosy Frenchman, who doesn’t know when to stop meddling and he’ll embarrass me in front of Alex, I’m sure of it,” Thomas whined.

“He’s not that bad, Thomas. Get over yourself,” Angelica told him, taking a bite out of her pizza slice.

“No, one time I told him I was considering celebrating my birthday and he threw me a huge surprise party – granted, it was sweet of him, but also no, not for me – with like a live band and stuff. It was way too much.”

“Okay, so maybe not ask Laf directly,” Angelica conceded.

Thomas eyes suddenly lit up with inspiration and he exclaimed: “You could ask him!”

“No!” Angelica protested immediately.

“Why not?” Thomas was pleading now, “For me.”

“Because then he’ll know for suresomething is up and talk to either you or Alex and then your whole plan will still be ruined,” Angelica explained, “You just need to trust me and flirt with Alex. I swear it will be fine.”

“But what if it isn’t?”

“Then I’ll get you ice cream and chew out Alex,” she promised.

“I hate it when you make a point,” Thomas complained.

“And I hate eating without playing a movie, we both make sacrifices,” Angelica rolled her eyes, completely unimpressed as she took another bite of her pizza, almost as if to make a point.

In the end they did watch a movie. It was a shitty romcom, as promised, and every time someone flirted Angelica rated it and advised for or against the method. Thomas wasn’t sure if he wanted to strangle or hug her.

He still didn’t say anything for almost a week and a half, until he found himself in the printer room with Alex.

“Honestly, Thomas, you can’t possibly think that saying a cloud and rain are the same makes any sense,” Alex rolled his eyes, pushing some buttons on the printer.

“No, just think about it, okay? Clouds are water, rain is also water, correct?” Alex grudgingly agreed, “A cloud is basically water floating around until it gets cold and falls, so therefore rain is basically just a cloud falling.”

Alex paused, processing his words, before he said: “Oh my God, shut up.”

“Make me,” Thomas had been so caught up about winning their argument that he hadn’t even thought before letting the slightly suggestive words slip out.

Now they both paused. Thomas looked shocked at his own words and Alex studied him curiously, his eyes scanning him up and down, before he smirked and asked: “Is that a threat or a promise, Tommy? Because you really shouldn’t say things you can’t deliver on.”

Then he grabbed his papers and left Thomas gaping like a fish on dry land as he tried to process the entire interaction.

Alex was internally panicking as he hightailed out of the room, hoping to leave Thomas before the man had gathered his wits again. Sure, Thomas might have started it, but Alex had taken it a level further.

He’d wanted to flirt with Thomas, but they only just started to be friendly. Well, maybe not just, but it wasn’t as if they had stopped being rivals that long ago.

It was just…

It was just that Philip had really liked Thomas, he was still sometimes asking about how Mr. Thomas was doing. And the man had done so much for him on John’s birthday. And he had looked so vulnerable with the email and Alex had never seen that side of him and his stupid crush was developing at an alarming rate. And he didn’t want to acknowledge it or make it real, but…

Butnow he might have made it weird.

Fuck, what was he going to do? Oh, wait, Eliza was picking up Philip today – normally he would do it, but school ended early that day so Eliza had offered – and it was after lunch, so he wouldn’t see Thomas today and he could talk to her and have a plan tomorrow.

With that in mind, he tried to forget about the whole incident and work till the end of the day, losing himself in his work and hoping he wouldn’t run into Thomas.

He left at five on the dot and at half past five he was knocking on Eliza’s door. She opened, but before she could say anything he blurted out: “I flirted with Thomas today. I think he started it, but now I’m thinking it might have been me.”

She blinked, then blinked again, before she pulled him into the house: “Tell me everything. Is this the great Mr. Thomas Philip was telling me about? The one you’ve been crushing on and didn’t tell me and I had to hear about from Herc?”

“Maybe?” he squeaked.

He and Philip ended up eating dinner with her and Maria and afterwards Maria watched a movie with Philip, sending them a knowing look that made Alex blush.

Alex had known Eliza since Freshman year in college. He and her had hit it off right away, even dated for a while, but then John had taken a break from the army to study and- well, they just found they were only dating to prove something to themselves.

The point was Alex told Eliza everything. She’d been the first to know he fancied John, had helped him pick an outfit for their first date, had been there for ring shopping and wedding planning. She had carried Philip for nine months for Pete’s sake.

Yet he had hesitated with telling her about Thomas.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, but if he told her it would be real, because telling her made it real and he was scared of this being real.

But now it was going to be real.

It was going to be real because Thomas had said something slightly suggestive and Alex had taken that as a sign to blatantly flirt with the man. It was going to be real, because he was going to tell Eliza.

Fuck.

He started up slowly, hesitating about certain parts, what to say and what not, but in the end the words started to flow out of him like they always did.

Alex told Eliza about how he’d thought Thomas was attractive, but had pushed that down with the personality, but then he’d been nice to Philip and that had stirred something inside him again. He told her about John’s birthday, the endless jokey lunch discussions, Martha’s email, how he the feelings had been building up until he had blurted out his comment that day.

All throughout Eliza just listened and nodded along until his word vomit session was over and he just sat there and breathed.

“It sounds to me,” she began carefully, “like you really like Thomas and that he is a good influence on you. And if I understood correctly, he has proven himself to be willingly involved with Pip. He sounds like a catch, ‘Lexi.”

“He is,” Alex sighed with a smile, then slightly sadder he added, “I just don’t know what to do. I might have scared him off today.”

“Come on, don’t be so deprecating. I knew you in college, you can woo him,” Eliza encouraged him teasingly.

“Wow, thanks, ‘Liza,” he huffed.

“I’m serious, ‘Lexi. You can flirt and you know it, you’re a charmer if you want to be, when you’re not, you know, forcing people to have opinions they need to defend,” she said, “Though, Thomas already knows that, since-” she gestured vaguely, “since you two do that.”

Alex laughed at that, before he turned more serious: “What if I fuck this up, Betsy? What if I do something wrong? What if Pip gets hurt by this? I don’t know how I’d live with myself if this hurts him.”

He only called her Betsy if he was really worried about something.

“Hey, Alexander, look at me,” if he was calling her Betsy, she was pulling out full names, “You’re not going to fuck this up, you just need to be patient for a moment.”

“Have you been hanging around Burr?” Alex groaned.

Eliza rolled her eyes at him: “No and just because you don’t agree with someone doesn’t mean they can’t have a point.”

“He should have points, ‘Liza, that’s the entire point,” Alex told her.

“I am not having this discussion with you right now, we were focusing on something else,” she knew deflection when she saw it, “We were talking about Thomas and you wooing him.”

“What? Do you have a battle plan or something?”

“Of course I have.”

“Have I ever told you that you’re the best?”

“You could stand to mention it more,” she smiled, “Now, you are flirty, which is great everyone will say that you are. He knows Laf, he’ll ask if he’s curious and Laf is how we keep tabs on him. Trust me, he will come talking if Thomas ever asks him anything like that.”

Alex laughed: “Remember when Herc said he had a date and Laf showed up at the restaurant in a disguise to check on her, because she had ‘weird vibes’?”

Eliza snorted and nodded at the memory, before moving on: “So we have a route of communication, sort of, to tell how the flirting is received. If it’s good, you can ask him out. If not, well, I have ice cream and a shoulder to cry on.”

“Betsy, you are the best of women, honestly. If you weren’t so gay, I’d marry you,” he told her with a grin.

“Like I said, you’re a charmer,” she ruffled his hair, before ushering him and Philip – who had been elated about the later bedtime – out the door while reminding him to tell her everything from now on.

He left with that promise to her and a lighter heart.

The next day started like any other, with Thomas finding Alex in the break room like nothing had happened. For a moment Thomas worried the other was going to pretend that nothing had been said, crumbling his resolve to start flirting today.

“Hi, Alex,” he decided on his normal greeting, just to test the room.

Alex turned and smiled – it was that stupid bright smile that did things to Thomas – then said: “Hi, you’re looking good today? New pants?”

They weren’t new and Thomas knew that Alex knew that, because it was an outfit he’d worn many times. The comment eased some of his anxiety about this as he replied: “No, but glad you’re finally appreciating my impeccable sense of style.”

The eyeroll Alex gave him couldn't have been stopped even if he tried, so he just winked: “Nah, you still dress overly colored. Maybe I can help you find a better sense of style. Those pants would have to come off for that, though.”

Then he sashayed away like he hadn’t left Thomas blushing, pouring coffee over his hand because he wasn’t paying attention to the coffeepot.

And for the next few daysit continued like this. Their arguments that had turned into banter had now turned into flirting.

They were dancing around each other like teenagers afraid to be rejected for prom and the whole office had probably caught onto it. Alex was sure of that with all the looks knowing they were getting.

This was confirmed when Washington made him stay after a meeting in which some flirty comments had slipped into their debate, he raised a brow at Alex and asked: “What happened to the ‘nothing like that, sir’?”

Alex blushed heavily and squeaked: “Back then it wasn’t.”

“So it is like that now?”

“Sir,” it was a whine and Alex would deny it later.

“Alex,” Washington just replied, completely nonplussed.

“Ugh,” Alex groaned, this softly said: “Maybe? Not yet. I don’t know.”

“Well, Thomas is a good man, be kind to him,” Washington told him, a slight warning in his tone, before he got protective, “And be careful with yourself too, son.”

“I’m not-” Alex cut off the standard reply, because it was really not true at this point, so instead he nodded: “I will, thank you, sir.”

Washington send him away with some paperwork and an order not to stay late again and Alex promised he wouldn’t, because he was picking up Philip today and he had promised the kid they could go to a park after school.

Philip was so excited to see him and Alex pushed him on a swing and caught him when he wanted to jump off.

During dinner Philip asked: “How is Mr. Thomas? He was nice, why doesn’t he come around again? He came that one time and you are friends now, right? Why doesn’t he come around like Uncle Herc and Uncle Laf do?”

“It’s a bit complicated, Pip,” Alex said after a moment, “Me and Thomas are friends, but it just never flowed like that.”

“You always says I can change my own path, why can’t you?” God, sometimes Pip was too smart for his own good.

“I’ll see if he wants to come to movie night with your Uncles and Aunties. Does that sound fun?” he might regret this, but the look on Pip’s face was worth it.

He didn’t approach Thomas directly, with all the flirting he didn’t want it to come across as asking for a date. If he was going to ask Thomas, he was going to ask it better than that. Instead he approached Angelica: “Hey, Angie, can I ask you something?”

“Depends on what it is.”

“For movie night, I, uhm, well, I wanted to ask Thomas to come, but that’s weird, because it would be me asking, so I wanted to ask if you could invite him to come along?” Alex hoped she would say yes.

Angelica smiled pleasantly and Alex dreaded her answer: “Why is it weird when you do it?”

“Come on, Angie,” Alex whined, “I’m sure you and Eliza gossip about me. You know what this is about. If I ask him out, I’ll do it differently than a group movie night, because Pip wanted to see him again.”

“You’re gonna ask him out?” Angelica asked excitedly.

Alex cursed his stupid mouth and said: “Maybe. It’s still new and stuff, but eventually, yeah, it’s the plan at least. Don’t tell him though, please.”

Angelica cooed: “You are too cute. I won’t tell, don’t worry.”

“Will you ask him?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you,” maybe there was a bit too much force in the words, but Alex didn’t care.

That Friday Alex was more anxious about movie night than he had any right to be. It was usually hosted at his house so that he could put Pip to bed on time, before they watched non-kid movies, though everyone had a soft spot for the animated movies.

He had checked everything over multiple times and the only thing distracting him was Philip’s latest car parkour.

Herc arrived first, sweeping his nephew into his arms and being a calming enough presence that Alex had relaxed by the time Eliza and Maria along with Peggy showed up.

Then Angelica arrived with Thomas in tow. He greeted Alex awkwardly: “Sorry, is this okay? Angie said it was, but I don’t want to intrude.”

Luckily Alex didn’t have to answer, because Philip came running: “Mr. Thomas! Mr. Thomas, I have started keeping my drawings in this book and it’s already pretty full, do you want to see? We’re going to watch Mulantonight? Have you seen Mulanbefore? Did you like it?”

Thomas smiled: “Hey, kiddo, how about one question at a time? I’d love to see your drawings.”

Philip cheered and dragged Thomas away, who send Alex an apologetic look, though Alex didn’t mind having the pressure of him. He was distracted by Angelica: “That went well.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, you dork, it’s going fine,” Angelica assured him, “Now, I want something to drink. Do you have popcorn?”

Lafayette arrived last. By the time he came knocking they had all the snacks set out and the movie was waiting. He bustled in: “Bonjour, Bonjour, sorry I’m late. There was traffic and I was sleeping.”

“Uncle Laf!” Philip was off the couch and at Laf’s side in seconds, these nights would always make him excited enough that he dropped off early.

“Ah, mon petit neveu, how are you?” Laf hugged him tightly.

Philip babbled excitedly: “I’m going to become an artist. I showed Mr. Thomas my drawing book and he says they’re really good and my teacher says so as well.”

“Mr. Thomas?” Laf asked, he hadn’t been around often lately with his job keeping him busy and traveling. He had seen something was up, but he hadn’t gotten the note that the two were doing something about it and he hadn’t heard Philip about it yet either.

From the couch Thomas spoke up: “Hi, Lafayette. How was your week? Heard they needed you back in Paris?”

“Thomas! What une surprise!” Laf said and they had a conversation, which was more an interrogation how he’d ended up here. Alex saved Thomas by telling the nosy Frenchman that they were worked together on his financial plan and Thomas was not so bad ‘yes, Laf just like you said, I know.’

Movie night went great, they watched Mulan first and Philip kept asking Thomas questions throughout the entire movie, which Thomas answered dutifully. This amused the other adults greatly.

By the end the excitement had died down and Philip was nodding off. Alex left Eliza in charge of refilling the snacks, while he got Pip ready for bed.

When he got back the only spot left was right next to Thomas, he suppressed an eyeroll at his friends antics and sat down, knowing Laf would be all over this when the night was over. But for now he didn’t care.

He and Thomas had watched movies together before, albeit under different circumstances, but it was nothing new. Though he had forgotten how warm Thomas was and – now that he thought about it – he was kind of tired.

Slowly he slid sidewards throughout their viewing of The Patriotuntil he was leaning on Thomas’s shoulder, fighting to keep his eyes open. In the distance he felt something shift and the he slid further, a warm arm resting over him before he drifted off completely.

When he awoke it was dark and he was tucked in on the couch, cold and alone.

He sat up in confusion until his eye fell on a note in a familiar cursive handwriting that was too pretty to belong to someone in this century. It read: You fell asleep. We thought it better to let you be. Thanks for inviting me, I had fun. Sleep tight. x, T.

And honestly that little ‘x’ shouldn’t have made Alex blush. He looked up to a picture of John and whispered: “My dear Laurens, I think I’ve fallen in too deep already.”

The picture didn’t reply, instead John’s smiling face stayed static, but Alex still found it comforting to have John looking at him with something akin to encouragement. John would want him to be happy, he had always tried to do what he thought to be best for Alex, for Pip.

“You’re right, Jacky, I shouldn’t be dancing around this,” he said, “It’s just hard. And I’m scared,” he huffed a laugh, “Isn’t that ironic? After everything I’ve been through the great Alexander Hamilton is scared of asking someone on a date.”

He paused for a moment then said: “Don’t look at me like that, you asked me on our first date, you rash motherfucker. Don’t think I’ve forgotten you springing it on me when I was almost collapsing after finishing a paper. I got you with marriage, though, so even-Steven.”

It was comforting to talk to a picture of John, it was different when talking to his grave, less heavy when not surrounded by stones. Was it probably slightly strange? Yes. But Alex had been strange his entire life.

“Maybe I should be a bit rash for once, pick up your slack,” he told John, ignoring that his friends always said that they were both too rash and it was bad for their health that the two of them got along so well, “I think I’m doing it.”

That weekend he made a plan, had to double check something with Philip and worry-rant at Eliza, she was a great listener, he truly loved her.

Then Monday morning it was time, God he was nervous as he waited at Thomas’s office, where the man usually dropped his stuff before starting his day.

“Hey, uhm, this might be weird, but Pip told me about the vase in your office and if I remember correctly it was empty Friday, so I got you these,” Alex held up a bouquet of purple flowers, “It’s- they’re cornflowers, I hope I remembered correctly.”

Thomas took them, a bit stunned, his eyes slightly sparkling.

“I looked up their meaning. They mean ‘delicacy’, but also ‘be gentle with me’ and I thought that very fitting, because you’re – this is sound weird – but you’re very cute in an ‘I want to protect you’-way,” Alex was stumbling over his words, “But it’s also a request – the ‘be gentle with me’-part, I mean –because-” he swallowed and hesitated, “Well, you see, I- I was wondering if you- you would like to go on a- uhm, on a date. With me. This Friday. If you want. You don’t have to of course, maybe I’ve read this whole thing wrong and that’s fine, but if you do want to then I’ll be happy- more than happy, actually-”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“I’d love to go on a date with you this Friday,” Thomas told him, blush coloring his cheeks and a bashful smile tugging on his lips.

Alex grinned the grin that did things to Thomas as he replied: “That’s- Yeah, great, I- uhm, I’ll text you details?”

“Yeah, okay. Then I’ll go put these in water. Thank you, Alex, they’re beautiful,” Thomas walked away, flowers in hand, planning to yell at Angelica through the phone.

Bit of a more lighthearted chapter after all the grief and angst lmao

Also, always lovely when I get to the part of ‘and now they flirt’ only to realize that I do not know how to flirt and I have no clue how to write it. Ooof. So shout out to time skips xp

Side note: this → “well, they just found they were only dating to prove something to themselves.” is not invalidating the fact that Alex is bi, just that Eliza wanted to prove to herself that she wasn’t a raging homosexual while Alex wanted to prove to himself that he wasn’t in love with John.

Also I thought it was very funny that they thought to use Laf to keep track of the other, only for both to tell him absolutely nothing

#RR writing #tw: grief mention #Alexander Hamilton #Hamilton #Hamilton AU #Jamilton #thomas jefferson #angelica schuyler #eliza schuyler #Philip Hamilton #Lafayette #marquis de lafayette #george washington #'Till Death Do Us Part #'Till Death Do Us Part Part 4 #'Till Death Do Us Part AU

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aitarose · 3 years

Text

my gaang for nationals part 1

contains: permanent appreciation post for some of my really really close friends/mutuals (if you’re not in this i’m sorry, but i’d love to talk more if you’re interested!) in no particular order. where they fit in the scenario in which we’re all in haikyuu

notes: i love making these and i love you all, so here’s something that randomly came to mind when i read hesther’s love fest :) also, i’m clearly a libero asdjfkl. oh and there will be a part two to this for my other mutuals, but i’m tired and want to stop typing sooo that’ll come tomorrow maybe

↳ directory

@firelordhesther: hes

↳ general words:

hello mother, i’m rewriting this paragraph because i’m pretty sure you managed to read the first draft and i wanted to surprise you so here’s something new. i’m going to be nice since this is a public post and i don’t want strangers to see how much ~love~ i have for you. you’re the only one who can tell me what to do, like i actually listen to you which is weird..i don’t even listen to myself usually. ngl you scare me sometimes, but it’s a good kind of scary. ily..i guess. see you whenever i decide to drive down to the yeehaw land.

↳ team position: captain

besides the icky stuff up there, i think that you’d be the team captain if we were on a volleyball team. you have a way with words in which you can reign chaos in with a simple paragraph. you’re also very authoritarian, whether you mean to be or not, and then you give everyone advice in a nice way that doesn’t make us feel stupid. i’d listen to you if you were my captain, and i think everyone else would too.

@nekomabvc: lina-chan

↳ general words:

you’re my favorite person to harass. you’re literally me but in a nicer and whiter font. i really like making obscure memes about you and then emailing them to your personal email. that’s funny—besides all of that you’re like my bff lina-chan..my internet bff. my irl’s get really annoying sometimes and it’s nice to know that i can just text you and you usually answer, unless you’re doing your million step bathroom routine. and whenever i’m on the phone, ella always thinks i’m talking to you and it’s really annoying because i don’t like you..but also like..aishiteru.

↳ team position: setter

you always say that setter is the only position that you’d physically be able to play, but i feel like you fit the position personality-wise as well. you’re very in control with everything around you, you like things to be a certain way and get frustrated when they’re out of place. you think logically over creatively, and would take control of the team in a way that no one else could. when you get in the zone, you can be really motivating and you’re good at guiding steps and practice. you’d be a really good setter.

@calcifers-newjersey-accent: ella

↳ general words:

hello. i hate you. cancel quesadillas.

↳ team position: middle blocker

first of all, you’d be total middle blocker perfection considering your height and stature. bitch be literal tsunami in femal forme. you’d be jumping and popping and going BOP BOP to all those balls, and everyone would be like woah! she’s really good! anyways, you’d be a good defense because you’re always ready to help someone in need, whether that’s physically or emotionally. that’s it. my brain hurts from saying nice things.

@agniikaii: kyle (kaail)

↳ general words:

kyle you’re my favorite asian, other than my little irl asian bitch named after a fucking spice, and i love calling you kyle and making frat references that you don’t understand. you’re very funny and i really like horny hours because i get to see all of the hot men that you like, even if they’re blonde..ew. you’re twelve hours ahead of me, and that twelve more hours that you have to do calculus homework, and that sucks..deal with it ig. find that derivative!!

↳ team position: wing spiker

you’d 100% be on offense. you’re like hinata, you’d bounce around and just pop those balls down to the floor. you’re small and probably fast if you really tried?? i don’t know how online gym works, but i bet you’re killing it girlfriend! you go! keep those boys thirsty! i’m laughing at myself idk what else to say. you have an aggressive side sometimes, and i can just imagine you bringing it out on the court.

@pxnk-velvet: angie

↳ general words:

angelina argentina anal michael. you are so very talented in the creativity it astounds me. you’re such a good artist and have so much potential as a writer it’s just, augh, so proud. you make me laugh when you say Periodt! with that peppa pig meme, and you always send it even when it makes no sense in the conversation and it just makes me giggle hehe.

↳ team position: ace

i don’t know if you know what the ace does yet, but they’re basically the powerhouse of the team. you definitely DEFINITELY have an aggressive side, and we’ve seen it come out a couple times and you would be perfect for this position. mwah. just perfect. with you as our ace, we’d never have to worry about that stupid wall and you’d just be the best. that’s it. the best.

@councilspectres: my new wife (just married)

↳ general words:

HELLO HANNAH. i don’t know if you’re ever going to see this, because you never saw my last one pain, anywho that doesn’t matter. what matters is you’re very nice and funny, also horse girl, and you pop in at fun times. i can’t wait to go on our honeymoon to wyoming and have a great time with those horses. love u.

↳ team position: teacher advisor

i don’t think you watch haikyuu, and this is obviously not an actual position on the team—but you give off such takeda energy it’s crazy. he’s such a nice guy and just wants the best for everyone, he’s always there for them when things get tough, but also doesn’t hover. you’d be the best teacher advisor, and all the other clubs would be jealous.

@probablydisgusting: sophia

↳ general words:

hi sophie. your dog is super cute and i added myself to the private story today, but besides that you are very VERY funny and i really enjoy listening to your tangents, because it feels like i’m not the only one who can talk forever. you were the very first person to interact in the original chat and that’s really cute and i miss those days even though the snap gc is much better.

↳ team position: pinch server

you definitely don’t watch haikyuu, but if you know anything about volleyball you’d know that the pinch server is someone that the entire team relies on to change up the game. they come in when the team is at their wits end and save the say, which is just like you when you randomly pop into the chat and entertain us! you’d be a fire pinch server and would cheer SO loudly from the sidelines.

#.appreciation #my gaang

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toxicpineapple · 4 years

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HI IM ANON THAT ASKED FOR HCS and i just wanted like hmm a general like hcs for the whole cast,, but i would gladly appreciate a ‘taro ramble too <33

okay, well, to begin with, i do have a post of drv3 character headcanons already, so you can go and check this post out for your outdated juice. i honestly made this post months ago though so a lot of the headcanons on there are. kind of wonky. i’m gonna go ahead and correct the ones that have changed real quick and then add on new ones.

- bi kaito and maki? LAME!!! kaito and maki are homoromantic asexuals and i don’t take constructive criticism. (bi kaito and maki headcanons are so valid i just prefer them as homosexual now LFKDSJFKJD anyway akamota rights)

- actually they’re all asexual? hehe. the love hotels aren’t real they can’t hurt me. i’m gonna list ace headcanons now

- shuichi: sex positive asexual

- kaede: sex indifferent asexual

- kaito: sex repulsed asexual

- maki: sex repulsed asexual

- miu: sex indifferent asexual (side note, if anyone comes at me for my ace miu headcanons i’m literally gonna commit a murder)

- kokichi: sex repulsed asexual (but good at repressing his sex repulsion)

- rantaro: sex repulsed asexual

- himiko: sex repulsed asexual

- tsumugi: sex repulsed asexual

- tenko: sex repulsed asexual

- angie: sex positive asexual

- kiyo: sex positive asexual (but experiences sex repulsion due to trauma)

- ryoma: sex repulsed asexual

- gonta: sex indifferent asexual

- kirumi: sex repulsed asexual

- kiibo: sex indifferent asexual

- um. i lost my train of thought. oh. okay. so i gave kokichi depression back when i made this post and i think that was a weird thing in particular to saddle him with. i don’t think kokichi is like, a-okay and all the time, but i think he tends more towards manic than depressive. which isn’t to say that he can’t be both, but there’s a vibe and kokichi doesn’t have it

- regardless i gave kaito depression. suffer bitchboy

- while we’re talking about kaito, HOO BOY, i am a kinnie. sorry about this, anon. kaito has asthma, which isn’t a kinnie thing, but he also plays the ukulele, which IS a kinnie thing. i mentioned that he can knit. that was true. he also bakes!!! and he has had a series of hyperfixations throughout his life in this order:

- disney movies (ongoing)

- pirates (elementary school)

- musical theatre (first year middle school)

- frogs (second year middle school)

- tennis (third year middle school)

- also kaito has a crush on ryoma! haha! did i mention i don’t take constructive criticism! anyway

- let’s talk about trans headcanons :)

- shuichi, kokichi, maki, kaede, himiko, and tenko are all binary trans no matter what work i’m writing them in. even if i don’t tag it and it doesn’t come up at all, assume they’re trans! because they are and i don’t take constructive criticism

- BIG fan of nb kiibo, rantaro, kiyo, angie, kirumi, and kaito. just, real big fan

- all trans headcanons are valid periodt!!! except transmasc tenko we don’t.... we don’t like that in this house. please take your transmasc tenko elsewhere

- while i do think that himiko’s master committing suicide was One Hell Of A Take on my part, i’m pretty sure he just left. he just ditched a child because she was better than him. that’s all. y’know that one oumeno fic where he dies and everything is nuanced? yeah. he was just, a shitty person, that’s all it was. i’m sorry himiko you deserved better

- ummmmmmm himiko autistic! himiko autistic. she cannot STAND the texture of denim or sweats, it is just. The Unhappy Texture

- delicately eyezooms. low empathy mugi? low empathy tsumugi? hewwo, low empa

- kokichii is very good with kids! just exceedingly good with children. it’s because he is one himself

- kaede has two dads :)

- himiko’s parents are divorced. she lives with a single mother. as one does from time to time

- rantaro, if he finds all his sisters, eventually settles down as either a teacher, a therapist, or a school counselor. so like the first two or a combination of them

- kaito knits under the bed. why does he do this? i don’t know. he doesn’t know. it’s a thing, just go with it.

- rantaro sees a lesbian and thinks, “hmmm. she could use an emotional support himbo” and then just does it. kaito does this too but he hyperfocuses on like. two or three lesbians at a time. rantaro spreads himself thin between the lesbians. amamota and lesbians guys get into it

- mwahahaha (pushes my amamota agenda onto you) they’re dating and in love!

- coffee headcanons :)

- shuichi: black. as black as his soul. which is to say very black. not because he’s emo he just likes the colour

- kaede: a bit of cream and sugar, nothing excessive. kaede stays up late on hyperfixation energy alone she doesn’t need no coffee

- kaito: a couple sugar cubes but no cream

- maki: ... a lot sweeter than she’ll admit

- rantaro: milk and sugar with a side of coffee

- gonta: gonta prefers tea! but he’ll take coffee when it’s offered, as gentlemen do. he likes it with a bit of cream, but no sugar

- kirumi: black.

- ryoma: black

- himiko: she prefers apple juice. himiko gets nauseous on coffee

- tenko: DOES NOT DRINK COFFEE!!! NO!!!! COFFEE IS AN ADDICTION IT’S BAD FOR YOU!!!!!!

- angie: angie doesn’t drink coffee either but when she does you have to fill the damn thing with mostly milk or she will be absolutely unbearable

- kokichi: you really wanna give this little adhd gremlin coffee? are you insane? (he’ll take it with an egregious amount of cream and sugar but he doesn’t mind it black)

- miu: black and like six or seven cups of it at a time

- tsumugi: a little bit of cream but no sugar!

- korekiyo: he really prefers tea but kiyo will take coffee either black or with a touch of cream

- kiibo: haha.... he’d like to know what coffee tastes like.......

- scent headcanons :))))

- shuichi: books, cinnamon, rose tea, coffee

- kaede: honeysuckle, morning dew

- kaito: axe body spray, banana bread, old spice

- maki: fresh snow, dry cleaners

- tsumugi: fabric stores, honey, lemons

- korekiyo: incense, perfume, old books

- kiibo: metal

- kokichi: linen, sugar

- rantaro: evergreen trees, fresh laundry, incense (finesses jim’s hcs)

- miu: coffee, machinery, rosemary shampoo

- kirumi: mild floral perfume, dark chocolate

- gonta: trees, camp fires, pine needles

- angie: paint, clay, daisies, salt water

- himiko: strawberries, clean laundry, hot chocolate

- tenko: cherry blossoms, tatami, maybe a little bit of sweat

- ryoma: mint, rubber

anon i probably have more but my spoon count just went down, i hope you appreciate this list, such as it is FLKSJDFKLSDJFj i’m!! really passionate about these guys. i’d also love to talk about rantaro’s specific relationship with each member of the v3 cast so like........ shoot me an ask if there’s interest i guess FLKDSJFLKDSJF

or if there’s interest in anything else!! i love answering these you guys are so sweet, tysm <3

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richincolor · 3 years

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January's New Releases

2021 told 2020 to hold it's beer and what a month January has been! Publishing YA also came out swinging with a slew of new books (many already bestsellers) in what we hope will be another banner year for BIPOC stories. Click below to find books for your TBR list.

Week of January 5th

The Life I’m In by Sharon G. Flake Scholastic Inc

My feet are heavy as stones when I walk up the block wondering why I can’t find my old self.

In The Skin I’m In, readers saw into the life of Maleeka Madison, a teen who suffered from the ridicule she received because of her dark skin color. For decades fans have wanted to know the fate of the bully who made Maleeka’s life miserable, Char.

Now in Sharon Flake’s latest and unflinching novel, The Life I’m In, we follow Charlese Jones, who, with her raw, blistering voice speaks the truths many girls face, offering insight to some of the causes and conditions that make a bully. Turned out of the only home she has known, Char boards a bus to nowhere where she is lured into the dangerous web of human trafficking. Much is revealed behind the complex system of men who take advantage of vulnerable teens in the underbelly of society. While Char might be frightened, she remains strong and determined to bring herself and her fellow victims out of the dark and back into the light, reminding us why compassion is a powerful cure to the ills of the world.

Sharon Flake’s bestselling, Coretta Scott King Award-winning novel The Skin I’m In was a game changer when it was first published more than twenty years ago. It redefined young adult literature by presenting characters, voices, and real-world experiences that had not been fully seen. Now Flake offers readers another timely and radical story of a girl on the brink and how her choices will lead her to either fall, or fly. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Happily Ever Afters by Elise Bryant Balzer + Bray

Sixteen-year-old Tessa Johnson has never felt like the protagonist in her own life. She’s rarely seen herself reflected in the pages of the romance novels she loves. The only place she’s a true leading lady is in her own writing—in the swoony love stories she shares only with Caroline, her best friend and #1 devoted reader.

When Tessa is accepted into the creative writing program of a prestigious art school, she’s excited to finally let her stories shine. But when she goes to her first workshop, the words are just…gone. Fortunately, Caroline has a solution: Tessa just needs to find some inspiration in a real-life love story of her own. And she’s ready with a list of romance novel-inspired steps to a happily ever after. Nico, the brooding artist who looks like he walked out of one of Tessa’s stories, is cast as the perfect Prince Charming.

But as Tessa checks each item off Caroline’s list, she gets further and further away from herself. She risks losing everything she cares about—including the surprising bond she develops with sweet Sam, who lives across the street. She’s well on her way to having her own real-life love story, but is it the one she wants, after all?

One of the Good Ones by Maika Moulite and Maritza Moulite Inkyard Press

ISN’T BEING HUMAN ENOUGH? When teen social activist and history buff Kezi Smith is killed under mysterious circumstances after attending a social justice rally, her devastated sister Happi and their family are left reeling in the aftermath. As Kezi becomes another immortalized victim in the fight against police brutality, Happi begins to question the idealized way her sister is remembered. Perfect. Angelic.

One of the good ones.

Even as the phrase rings wrong in her mind–why are only certain people deemed worthy to be missed?–Happi and her sister Genny embark on a journey to honor Kezi in their own way, using an heirloom copy of The Negro Motorist Green Book as their guide. But there’s a twist to Kezi’s story that no one could’ve ever expected–one that will change everything all over again.

Roman and Jewel by Dana L. Davis Inkyard Press

If Romeo and Juliet got the Hamilton treatment…who would play the leads? This vividly funny, honest, and charming romantic novel by Dana L. Davis is the story of a girl who thinks she has what it takes…and the world thinks so, too.

Jerzie Jhames will do anything to land the lead role in Broadway’s hottest new show, Roman and Jewel, a Romeo and Juliet inspired hip-hopera featuring a diverse cast and modern twists on the play. But her hopes are crushed when she learns mega-star Cinny won the lead…and Jerzie is her understudy.

Falling for male lead Zeppelin Reid is a terrible idea–especially once Jerzie learns Cinny wants him for herself. Star-crossed love always ends badly. But when a video of Jerzie and Zepp practicing goes viral and the entire world weighs in on who should play Jewel, Jerzie learns that while the price of fame is high, friendship, family, and love are priceless.

The Awakening of Malcom X by Ilyasah Shabazz & Tiffany D. Jackson Farrar, Straus and Giroux (Byr)

In Charlestown Prison, Malcolm Little struggles with the weight of his past. Plagued by nightmares, Malcolm drifts through days unsure of his future. Slowly, he befriends other prisoners and writes to his family. He reads all the books in the prison library, joins the debate team and the Nation of Islam. Malcolm grapples with race, politics, religion, and justice in the 1940s. And as his time in jail comes to an end, he begins to awaken — emerging from prison more than just Malcolm Little: Now, he is Malcolm X.

Here is an intimate look at Malcolm X’s young adult years. While this book chronologically follows X: A Novel, it can be read as a stand-alone historical novel that invites larger discussions on black power, prison reform, and civil rights.

When You Look Like Us by Pamela N. Harris HarperCollins

When you look like us—brown skin, brown eyes, black braids or fades—people think you’re trouble. No one looks twice at a missing black girl from the projects because she must’ve brought whatever happened to her upon herself. I, Jay Murphy, can admit that, for a minute, I thought my sister, Nicole, got too caught up with her boyfriend—a drug dealer—and his friends.

But she’s been gone too long now.

If I hadn’t hung up on her that night, she’d be spending time with our grandma. If I was a better brother, she’d be finishing senior year instead of being another name on a missing persons list. It’s time to step up and do what the Newport News police department won’t.

Week of January 12th

Chlorine Sky by Mahogany L. Browne Crown Books for Young Readers

She looks me hard in my eyes & my knees lock into tree trunks My eyes don’t dance like my heartbeat racing They stare straight back hot daggers. I remember things will never be the same. I remember things.

With gritty and heartbreaking honesty, Mahogany L. Browne delivers a novel-in-verse about broken promises, fast rumors, and when growing up means growing apart from your best friend.

The Meet-Cute Project by Rhiannon Richardson Simon & Schuster

Mia’s friends love rom-coms. Mia hates them. They��re silly, contrived, and not at all realistic. Besides, there are more important things to worry about—like how to handle living with her bridezilla sister, Sam, who’s never appreciated Mia, and surviving junior year juggling every school club offered and acing all of her classes.

So when Mia is tasked with finding a date to her sister’s wedding, her options are practically nonexistent.

Mia’s friends, however, have an idea. It’s a little crazy, a little out there, and a lot inspired by the movies they love that Mia begrudgingly watches too.

Mia just needs a meet-cute.

Concrete Rose (The Hate U Give, #0) by Angie Thomas Balzer + Bray

If there’s one thing seventeen-year-old Maverick Carter knows, it’s that a real man takes care of his family. As the son of a former gang legend, Mav does that the only way he knows how: dealing for the King Lords. With this money he can help his mom, who works two jobs while his dad’s in prison.

Life’s not perfect, but with a fly girlfriend and a cousin who always has his back, Mav’s got everything under control.

Until, that is, Maverick finds out he’s a father.

Suddenly he has a baby, Seven, who depends on him for everything. But it’s not so easy to sling dope, finish school, and raise a child. So when he’s offered the chance to go straight, he takes it. In a world where he’s expected to amount to nothing, maybe Mav can prove he’s different.

When King Lord blood runs through your veins, though, you can’t just walk away. Loyalty, revenge, and responsibility threaten to tear Mav apart, especially after the brutal murder of a loved one. He’ll have to figure out for himself what it really means to be a man.

Angel of Greenwood by Randi Pink Feiwel and Friends

Seventeen-year-old Isaiah Wilson is, on the surface, a town troublemaker, but is hiding that he is an avid reader and secret poet, never leaving home without his journal. A passionate follower of WEB. Du Bois, he believes that black people should rise up to claim their place as equals.

Sixteen-year-old Angel Hill is a loner, mostly disregarded by her peers as a goody-goody. Her father is dying, and her family’s financial situation is in turmoil. Also, as a loyal follower of Booker T. Washington, she believes, through education and tolerance, that black people should rise slowly and without forced conflict.

Though they’ve attended the same schools, Isaiah never noticed Angel as anything but a dorky, Bible toting church girl. Then their English teacher offers them a job on her mobile library, a three-wheel, two-seater bike. Angel can’t turn down the money and Isaiah is soon eager to be in such close quarters with Angel every afternoon.

But life changes on May 31, 1921 when a vicious white mob storms the community of Greenwood, leaving the town destroyed and thousands of residents displaced. Only then, Isaiah, Angel, and their peers realize who their real enemies are.

Week of January 19th

Thirty Talks Weird Love by Alessandra Narváez Varela Cinco Puntos Press

Out of nowhere, a lady comes up to Anamaría and says she’s her, from the future. But Anamaría’s thirteen, she knows better than to talk to some weirdo stranger. Girls need to be careful, especially in Ciudad Juárez, Mexico—it’s the 90’s and fear is overtaking her beloved city as cases of kidnapped girls and women become alarmingly common. This thirty-year-old “future” lady doesn’t seem to be dangerous but she won’t stop bothering her, switching between cheesy Hallmark advice about being kind to yourself, and some mysterious talk about saving a girl.

Anamaría definitely doesn’t need any saving, she’s doing just fine. She works hard at her strict, grade-obsessed middle school—so hard that she hardly gets any sleep; so hard that the stress makes her snap not just at mean girls but even her own (few) friends; so hard that when she does sleep she dreams about dying—but she just wants to do the best she can so she can grow up to be successful. Maybe Thirty’s right, maybe she’s not supposed to be so exhausted with her life, but how can she ask for help when her city is mourning the much bigger tragedy of its stolen girls?

This thought-provoking, moving verse novel will lead adult and young adult readers alike to vital discussions on important topics—like dealing with depression and how to recognize this in yourself and others—through the accessible voice of a thirteen-year-old girl.

Your Corner Dark by Desmond Hall Atheneum/Dlouhy

Things can change in a second:

The second Frankie Green gets that scholarship letter, he has his ticket out of Jamaica.

The second his longtime crush, Leah, asks him on a date, he’s in trouble.

The second his father gets shot, suddenly nothing else matters.

And the second Frankie joins his uncle’s gang in exchange for paying for his father’s medical bills, there’s no going back…or is there?

As Frankie does things he never thought he’d be capable of, he’s forced to confront the truth of the family and future he was born into—and the ones he wants to build for himself.

Last Night at the Telegraph Club by Malinda Lo Dutton Books for Young Readers

“That book. It was about two women, and they fell in love with each other.” And then Lily asked the question that had taken root in her, that was even now unfurling its leaves and demanding to be shown the sun: “Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

Seventeen-year-old Lily Hu can’t remember exactly when the question took root, but the answer was in full bloom the moment she and Kathleen Miller walked under the flashing neon sign of a lesbian bar called the Telegraph Club.

America in 1954 is not a safe place for two girls to fall in love, especially not in Chinatown. Red-Scare paranoia threatens everyone, including Chinese Americans like Lily. With deportation looming over her father—despite his hard-won citizenship—Lily and Kath risk everything to let their love see the light of day.

If I Tell You the Truth by Jasmin Kaur HarperCollins

Told in prose, poetry, and illustration, this heartrending story weaves Kiran’s and Sahaara’s timelines together, showing a teenage Kiran and, later, her high school–aged daughter, Sahaara.

Kiran is a young Punjabi Sikh woman who becomes pregnant after being sexually assaulted by her fiancé’s brother. When her fiancé and family don’t believe her, she flees her home in India to Canada, where she plans to raise the child as a single mother. For Kiran, living undocumented means constant anxiety over finances, work, safety, and whether she’ll be deported back to the dangers that await her in Punjab.

Eighteen years later, Kiran’s daughter, Sahaara, is desperate to help her mother, who has been arrested and is facing deportation. In the aftermath, Kiran reveals the truth about Sahaara’s conception. Horrified, Sahaara encourages Kiran to speak out against the man who raped her—who’s now a popular political figure in Punjab. Sahaara must find the best way to support her mother while also dealing with the revelation about her parents.

We Free the Stars (Sands of Arawiya #2) by Hafsah Faizal Farrar, Straus and Giroux

The battle on Sharr is over. The dark forest has fallen. Altair may be captive, but Zafira, Nasir, and Kifah are bound for Sultan’s Keep, determined to finish the plan he set in motion: restoring the hearts of the Sisters of Old to the minarets of each caliphate, and finally returning magic to all of Arawiya. But they are low on resources and allies alike, and the kingdom teems with fear of the Lion of the Night’s return.

As the zumra plots to overthrow the kingdom’s darkest threat, Nasir fights to command the magic in his blood. He must learn to hone his power into a weapon, to wield not only against the Lion but against his father, trapped under the Lion’s control. Zafira battles a very different darkness festering in her through her bond with the Jawarat—a darkness that hums with voices, pushing her to the brink of her sanity and to the edge of a chaos she dare not unleash. In spite of the darkness enclosing ever faster, Nasir and Zafira find themselves falling into a love they can’t stand to lose…but time is running out to achieve their ends, and if order is to be restored, drastic sacrifices will have to be made.

Lush and striking, hopeful and devastating, We Free the Stars is the masterful conclusion to the Sands of Arawiya duology by New York Times–bestselling author Hafsah Faizal.

Week of January 26th

Written in Starlight (Woven in Moonlight #2) by Isabel Ibañez Page Street Kids

If the jungle wants you, it will have you…

Catalina Quiroga is a Condesa without a country. She’s lost the Inkasisa throne, the loyalty of her people, and her best friend. Banished to the perilous Yanu Jungle, Catalina knows her chances of survival are slim, but that won’t stop her from trying to escape. It’s her duty to reclaim the throne.

When Manuel, the son of her former general, rescues Catalina from a jaguar, a plan forms. Deep in the jungle, the city of gold is hidden, home to the fierce Illari people, who she could strike an alliance with.

But the elusive Illari are fighting a battle of their own—a mysterious blight is corrupting the jungle, laying waste to everything they hold dear. As a seer, Catalina should be able to help, but her ability to read the future in the stars is as feeble as her survival instincts. While searching for the Illari, Catalina must reckon with her duty and her heart to find her true calling, which could be the key to stopping the corruption before it destroys the jungle completely.

The Knockout by Sajni Patel Flux

If seventeen-year-old Kareena Thakkar is going to alienate herself from the entire Indian community, she might as well do it gloriously. She’s landed the chance of a lifetime, an invitation to the US Muay Thai Open, which could lead to a spot on the first-ever Olympic team. If only her sport wasn’t seen as something too rough for girls, something she’s afraid to share with anyone outside of her family. Despite pleasing her parents, exceling at school, and making plans to get her family out of debt, Kareena’s never felt quite Indian enough, and her training is only making it worse.

Which is inconvenient, since she’s starting to fall for Amit Patel, who just might be the world’s most perfect Indian. Admitting her feelings for Amit will cost Kareena more than just her pride–she’ll have to face his parents’ disapproval, battle her own insecurities, and remain focused for the big fight. Kareena’s bid for the Olympics could very well make history–if she has the courage to go for it.

Wings of Ebony (Wings of Ebony #1) by J. Elle Denene Millner Books/Simon Schuster Books for Young Readers

“Make a way out of no way” is just the way of life for Rue. But when her mother is shot dead on her doorstep, life for her and her younger sister changes forever. Rue’s taken from her neighborhood by the father she never knew, forced to leave her little sister behind, and whisked away to Ghizon—a hidden island of magic wielders.

Rue is the only half-god, half-human there, where leaders protect their magical powers at all costs and thrive on human suffering. Miserable and desperate to see her sister on the anniversary of their mother’s death, Rue breaks Ghizon’s sacred Do Not Leave Law and returns to Houston, only to discover that Black kids are being forced into crime and violence. And her sister, Tasha, is in danger of falling sway to the very forces that claimed their mother’s life.

Worse still, evidence mounts that the evil plaguing East Row is the same one that lurks in Ghizon—an evil that will stop at nothing until it has stolen everything from her and everyone she loves. Rue must embrace her true identity and wield the full magnitude of her ancestors’ power to save her neighborhood before the gods burn it to the ground.

#new releases #weneeddiversebooks #ownvoices

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rorysgilmores · 3 years

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GUESS WHAT I'M ABOUT TO ASK YOU ABOUT FOR THE FANDOM ASK GAME ALSO ILY AMINA

THIS IS AN AWFULLY HARD QUESTION.............. IS IT BY ANY CHANCE AGENT CARTER <3 ALSO ILYSM ARWEN I MISS YOU TONS

the first character i ever fell in love with: peggy my love <33 a character that i used to love/like, but now do not: none! a ship that i used to love/like, but now do not: i don’t think there’s any here either! my ultimate favorite character™: peggy probably? i also adore jarvis and have a soft spot for angie prettiest character: miss margaret elizabeth carter herself my most hated character: jack thompson. a friend and i started a hate club my OTP: i think this award would have to go to cartinelli my NOTP: none as far as i can remember? favorite episode: i haven’t watched ac enough times to actually retain individual episode plotlines but i loved s1e5 where we learned more about dottie & the howlies made a guest appearance! saddest death: did anyone die... my mind is blanking i don’t think i had one though favorite season: both of them i’m emotionally attached <3 least favorite season: none. both are god-tier character that everyone else in the fandom loves, but i hate: none? unless you count jack thompson who a ton of my ac moots on twitter like for undetermined reasons my ‘you’re piece of trash, but you’re still a fave’ fave: dottie... i know she’s an assassin but my brain sees sexc evil villain lady and says “yes you i want you” my ‘beautiful cinnamon roll who deserves better than this’ fave: angie <333 i’m so upset about the second season nothing happened to her she was just slept on my ‘this ship is wrong, nasty, and makes me want to cleanse my soul, but i still love it’ ship: i Guess you could count carterwood but it’s about the enemies to lovers of it all i don’t feel regret in the slightest my ‘they’re kind of cute, and i lowkey ship them, but i’m not too invested’ ship: peggysous! esp in s2 i got more invested and i adore them both but they’re still not my main ship

send me a fandom and i’ll tell you my faves/least faves!

#benoit to my marta #*arwen #mutuals #benoitblanc #inbox #love letter

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kalosian-writer · 4 years

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Anonymous asked: What’s a no go for you in writing?

For Munday, anonymously ask the mun something you want to know about them, their portrayal, or what they will/won’t write.

((Right now, I think, the big ‘no’ for me is smut, for various reasons.

Overall I’m ace and just feel weird roleplaying it. The pacing is hard and it’s just overall a bit uncomfortable. Sometimes I can write it for like drabbles and such, but even if I want to I find smut hard.

Additionally, Mina is this awkward grey area where I worry people will think I aged her up for smut (even though her age is simply defined as ‘under 20′ in canon). I’ve talked about it before on her blog, but I made Mina 19 for that underlying theme of her being torn between being ready to quit being a Trial Captain but being worried about what will happen to Hapu and Poni when she leaves. I’d argue that anyone who’s followed Mina for a decent amount of time will get that, but I still get worried about those who don’t. So although I have written fade to black with a few other muses, I’m very cautious about what I write with Mina. Similar things could be said about Angie and Athena over on @worldsbywings, but that’s more along the lines of ‘I just didn’t want to write underaged muses in this case, not for the sake of smut but just bc I’m not feeling it with them.’

Finally, for those uninitiated...Jules is a very thorny case for me, and still very touch and go. There was a point last year where it began to feel like people only viewed Jules as a sexual/flirty muse, and ignored all the other aspects of her I’d developed since 2013. To be fair I didn’t help avoid this view. There were exceptions, of course, but overall it just made me avoid getting on this blog. Jules was on hiatus for nearly a year, and on several occasions I considered just dropping her altogether.

Obviously Jules is now back, and flourishing, but I’m still very avoidant of sexual stuff here. There are the occasional quips from her, and implied stuff with both Reiji and Akio, but overall I’m scared of playing out that aspect of Jules, as important as it can be at times.

Those are the big ones. Overall there are no major issues with smut and my other muses other than me being uninterested/uncomfortable (I mean, good luck bedding Falk in any verse except his courtsian verse, where even then it’s largely implied), but smut is just...a complicated topic for me.

I’m sure there are other ‘no’s for me, but that’s the one that immediately comes to mind, and others I would really just recommend approaching me and being like ‘hey are you okay rping this?’ I’m sure you weren’t looking for this in-depth an answer but I’m tired so this is what you’re getting.

Thank you!))

#Out of words #letting to LP #I have a physical but feel free to keep sending stuff in!

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shions-heart · 5 years

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Take My Hand

Read it here on AO3!

Rating: G

Pairing: Hirugami Sachirou & Hoshiumi Kourai, Hirugami Sachirou/Hoshiumi Kourai

Word Count: 1,624

Warnings: Self-Harm, Dermatillomania

Summary: Hoshiumi Kourai is not obsessed with Hirugami's hands.

But would it kill the guy to take care of them a little better?

for @angie-roselli

((welp, this is me calling Angie out on their hand kink because this is entirely their fault and they need to take responsibility))

***

Hoshiumi Kourai never thought much about hands, before. They’re a functional part of his body, and they serve him well in many capacities. He likes them as much as anyone likes any of their appendages, and he knows that without them he wouldn’t be able to do the things he wants. He definitely wouldn’t be able to receive or hit or serve a volleyball, so in that way they’re pretty important. But so are legs and feet and arms and, well, every other part of his body.

So, hands are important, but not particularly interesting or special.

Then he sees Hirugami Sachirou scraping his knuckles against a stone wall.

He reacts on instinct, grabbing his teammate’s bag and yanking him away. After talking some with his fellow second year and helping him (to the best of his ability at least) to understand that it’s okay to quit volleyball if he’s burnt out from it, he thinks that’ll be it. He’s glad to see Hirugami back on the court and seemingly more relaxed, but he keeps glancing at Hirugami’s hand out of the corner of his eye every now and then, to check for any new wounds or bruises not related to volleyball.

He’s not . . . obsessed with them or anything. That’d be weird. But he finds he can generally get a feel for Hirugami’s state of mind by how his hands look. Are they redder than they should be? Is the skin around his fingers picked to bleeding? Are there any new scabs on his knuckles or cuts that should be healing but aren’t?

On good days, Hirugami’s hands are fine. They’re not any worse for wear than they would normally be on a middle blocker. Kourai finds that on those days he breathes easier, laughs and jokes with his teammates without a care in the world.

But when he sees those bloodied scabs, the raw picked skin, he finds that his temper is much shorter, and his chest feels tight.

“You kinda need those to be in good shape for when you play, ya know,” he says casually one day, watching Hirugami carefully wrap some tape around his fingers during practice.

Hirugami grins and holds up his taped fingers. “Am I just wearing these for show, then?” he teases.

Kourai feels heat rush to his face. Hirugami’s gotten a lot more relaxed since that day, but he shouldn’t be making a joke of it!

“That’s not what I mean and you know it, asshole!” he snaps.

Hirugami waves him off. “Pretty sure you got better things to worry about.”

Kourai purses his lips, not wanting to admit that he finds the condition of Hirugami’s hands pretty fucking important, considering. In the end, he simply storms away to practice his serves and refuses to check on Hirugami’s hands for the rest of the day.

Except he can’t help but glance at them before he leaves, watching for a moment as Hirugami carefully peels off the tape and flexes his fingers. They seem fine, no new indications of stress or anxiety, so Kourai turns and walks out of the locker room briskly, the evening air cooling his warm cheeks.

He tries not to think about it. He really does. Volleyball takes up a fairly large space in his mind, and there’s his homework to consider and new ways to bother Akitomo. He doesn’t have space for much else.

Except stupid Hirugami and his stupid hands continue to somehow invade his thoughts, sometimes at the worst possible moments, like in the middle of a test or while he’s trying to sleep. He finds himself wondering if Hirugami’s picking at his fingers again or scratching at a scab or scraping his knuckles against anything, and his eyes go straight to Hirugami’s hands the second he enters the locker room before practice. It’s irritating.

He tells himself he’s going to stop. Hirugami’s fine. He’s playing well and doesn’t seem to get as hung up on his mistakes as before. His hands function normally, and that’s the most important thing, right? He’s doing his job as a middle blocker, and Kourai doesn’t need to worry about anything else.

Then he’ll catch a glimpse of some dried blood around Hirugami’s nails or a freshly picked scab across his knuckles, and his chest seizes up, and he goes through the cycle all over again.

“You’re so annoying,” Kourai gripes, stopping by Hirugami, as the younger guy sits on the floor by the gym door, carefully applying a new band-aid to his knuckle.

Hirugami glances up at him with a curious smile. “How’s that?”

Kourai drops to the floor beside him, tucking the volleyball he held into his lap, as he sits cross-legged. “You’re not even applying any antibiotic! It’s like you want these to get infected. Give me that.”

He snatches the band-aid from Hirugami, laying it sticky-side up across his knee before pulling the first-aid kit closer to rummage through it. Hirugami says nothing, as Kourai finds some antibiotic, grumbling under his breath as he grabs Hirugami’s hand next and carefully applies the ointment to the open scabs.

“You’re being stupid, you know,” he says matter-a-factly, eyes on his work as he gently lays the band-aid across it.

“Am I?” Hirugami sounds almost disinterested, and Kourai bristles.

“Yes! You don’t like making mistakes, but what do you think is gonna happen if you have busted up hands?! All of us have to take care of ourselves so we’ll be able to keep playing. You stayed on the team even after I told you it was okay to quit, so obviously you want to keep playing. So cut this shit out!”

He finishes and tosses Hirugami’s hand into the guy’s lap, refusing to look at it any longer, as he starts packing things back into the first-aid kit.

“I don’t even realize I’m doing it half the time,” Hirugami admits quietly after a moment.

Kourai glances toward him skeptically, and heat flares across his cheeks, as he sees Hirugami watching him with a tiny smirk.

“It’s sweet of you to care, though,” he says.

“I don’t!” Kourai exclaims, grabbing the volleyball in his lap and scrambling to his feet.

Hirugami’s expression doesn’t change, which is irritating. “You’re contradicting yourself,” he says, waving his now treated hand in front of his face.

“Whatever!”

Kourai hurries away, his face feeling much too hot. He busies himself with practicing receives and absolutely does not look Hirugami’s way at any point during his time on the court.

***

They lose their next away match. It stings, especially since they came so close to winning, only to fall behind in the final set. The bus ride back to Kamomedai is silent save for a few sniffles here and there. Kourai sits down in the seat beside Hirugami, just because. No particular reason. But he just so happens to glance down and see the way Hirugami’s nails are digging into the side of his fingers, scraping into his callouses and picking away.

Kourai reacts on instinct. Gritting his teeth, he reaches over and shoves his hand in-between Hirugami’s, gripping his fingers firmly to shield them from the attacking nails. He keeps his gaze forward, not about to explain himself or catch Hirugami looking at him in any weird way. This isn’t weird. He’s just looking out for his team, like any good ace would.

Hirugami grows still beside him, but he doesn’t say anything either. After a moment, Kourai can feel the tension in his hands ease, his fingers no longer laying so stiffly against Kourai’s. At this point, Kourai knows he can probably pull away and Hirugami will be fine. But there’s always the chance that he’ll go right back to picking, even unconsciously. To avoid that, he doesn’t relax his grip, not even when Hirugami shifts just enough to slowly lace his fingers through Kourai’s.

His neck and ears feel extremely hot, but he hunches down into the popped collar of his uniform jacket and keeps his gaze ahead. He replays the game in his mind, going over each play and how he can practice to perform better next time. He doesn’t think about the hand in his, or the way Hirugami starts absently rubbing his thumb against the back of Kourai’s. It sends shivers down his spine, but he absolutely does not think about it.

They remain like that the entire ride back, and when they park outside the school, Kourai quickly pulls his hand away to grab his bag and push his way out the front of the bus. His hand tingles from the lack of warmth, and he flexes it absently. Hirugami’s palm had grown sweaty after a while . . . or maybe that’d been his. He’s not sure, but he rubs his palm absently against his thigh to dry it.

Kourai doesn’t look Hirugami’s way during the coach’s speech in the locker room, and as the team gets changed afterwards, he ignores Hirugami’s presence next to his. He places his volleyball shoes into his locker, grabbing his street ones and sitting down to put them on, focusing on his own fingers as he ties the laces. When he stands, Hirugami’s blocking his path, but he pushes by without excusing himself.

Fingers brush against the back of his hand, and he freezes in place, as Hirugami’s voice comes toward him softly.

“Thanks, Kourai-kun.”

“Whatever.” Kourai shrugs, pulling away and scratching at the new itch on his hand. “Don’t do anything stupid tonight. You played good, and we’ll practice what we missed.”

“Roger that.” Hirugami sounds amused.

Lifting his chin, Kourai stalks out of the locker room, refusing to look back.

The next day, Hirugami’s hands are fine, and Kourai definitely doesn’t think about them.

Definitely not.

#hirugami sachirou #hoshiumi kourai #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! fic #hiruhoshi #(i have no idea what their ship name is but i like this alliteration so)#self harm cw #dermatillomania cw #as someone who suffers from dermatillomania due to anxiety #i relate so much to hirugami's struggles ;;;#there needs to be more fic of these two #like seriously #my writings #long post

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spine-buster · 5 years

Text

Alone, Together | Chapter 11 | Morgan Rielly

A/N: If you’d like to see a face claim for Briony, send me a message and I will send you a pic.

Another thing people have started doing is asking questions about Morgan and Bee’s relationship - the stuff you don’t see in the chapters. If you have questions about canon, please send me an ask and I’ll answer it. There’s a tag for this: morgan and briony canon

Line breaks also mysteriously disappeared because Tumblr is Tumblr so I guess the stars will have to do to denote a change in scene.

For the first time in a while, Briony was happy.

It wasn’t that she was ever depressed. Most of the time, she was too busy and too driven to feel any other emotion besides determination. The need to get shit done without giving it much thought. She just didn’t have the luxury to feel anything else. Classes still stressed her out, she still hated marking first year undergraduate essays, and she was still poor as fuck. But she was happy. Unapologetically happy.

It was a combination of things. Morgan, obviously, played a pretty big role in it all. She didn’t think she could be this happy in a relationship, judging by her past ones, but it was possible with Morgan. She was doing well in her courses and maintaining a high GPA – she even aced that behavioural economics assignment – and her professors had agreed to be her references and put in a good word for her job applications to the “Big Five” banks. Mason’s various funding grants had been accepted, which meant his PhD was going to continue to be fully funded. Angie had gotten a promotion at Indigo head office, which meant she was pushing less paper and directing others to push the paper she was no longer pushing. Angie also moved up a pay grade, which was always nice. She’d finished watching Schitt’s Creek with Morgan and they had moved on to Kim’s Convenience. The Leafs were playing really well. Morgan had even set a new record for the best five game start by a defenseman in the modern era, passing Bobby Orr, and he was set to shatter all expectations this season. They had celebrated accordingly.

Everything just seemed to be working out.

Even tonight. It was a Wednesday but Bee had done enough schoolwork to be able to attend the Leafs game against the San Jose Sharks. She was glad she did, because the boys ended up winning 5-3, with John and Auston getting two goals each. The team had played really well, and although at some points it looked like the Sharks were going to catch up, Fred put up his wall.

After the final buzzer rang and the stars of the night were announced, fans began to file out of the arena. It became a routine for Bee to file out with the wives and wait in the employee area, near the locker room, where they boys would meet them. She followed Aryne and Christina as the continued to discuss her exam schedule, Christina making sure the Christmas party the Marleau family were hosting didn’t interfere with her schedule.

As Morgan drove through the streets of Toronto, on his now familiar route to Briony’s apartment before he’d turn around and go back to his, he kept her hand clasped in his and in his lap. He would look over to her at red lights, and she’d catch him and smile and laugh, embarrassed, but he’d just do it again at the next light. The Leafs were going on a roadtrip for a week, to Minnesota and Buffalo, so he wanted to make sure he got a good look at her before he left. Not that he didn’t look at her enough.

“Can you drop me off at the Metro at Spadina, actually?” she said as they passed College Street. “I need to pick up some groceries I ran out of.”

“Can’t wait till tomorrow?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I need milk for my coffee. You know how I think coffee is too bitter without milk.”

He smiled. He learned that early. She made fun of him for how much sugar he put in his, whereas she had weaned off it in the past year. “Okay, fine. I can wait for you.”

“No no no, you go home and you go to bed,” she said. “You need your rest. Metro is like a three minute walk from my apartment. I’ll be okay.”

“Briony.”

“I’ll be okay,” she repeated, squeezing his hand.

When Morgan finally got to Metro, he pulled up to the curb and put his car in park. Briony gathered her bag and made sure nothing fell out before looking at him. He leaned over the centre console, giving her light kisses. There were many, and only stopped when Briony began to giggle from all of them.

“I’m gonna see you tomorrow right? Before I leave for the road trip?”

“Of course,” she nodded her head, and Morgan leaned in for another kiss. And another. And another.

“I’m gonna go now,” Briony whispered in between one.

“No.”

She laughed, pulling away. “Bye Morgan.”

“One more.”

She digressed. She leaned in one more time and he kissed her, making sure his tongue grazed her bottom lip to leave her wanting more. When she pulled away, she slapped his forearm playfully. “Tease.”

“You’re one to talk.”

She gave him a look, opening the door before climbing out. “Drive safe,” she called before slamming it shut. He watched as she walked in, and watched until he couldn’t see her in the store anymore. Licking his lips, he put his car in drive.

***

As Morgan settled into his bedroom, he rushed to take off his suit and change into an old t-shirt he was using as his pajamas. He felt so lazy that he didn’t even hang his suit or fold his pants properly – he just left them flat on the chair before walking into his ensuite to brush his teeth lazily before bed. Eventually, he plugged in his phone, climbed into bed, and wrapped the covers around him.

He checked his phone one more time. His lock screen, a picture of Briony sitting on his lap as they both smiled at the camera, opened up to his background: a picture of him and Briony from the fall. They had gone for a walk in Trinity Bellwoods and had stopped under a tree to lay down for a bit. Her head was on his chest, her hair spread out on it, and his arm was around her tightly. It was their sleeping position almost every time they were in the same bed together (besides the traditional spooning), so it was no wonder that they ended up taking a quick nap under the tree. Sometimes he would catch himself staring at his phone just to look at the pictures.

After clearing all his notifications, he set his phone down on his bedside table and closed his eyes. With the hockey schedule in full swing, it didn’t take him long to fall asleep. His mind was just as tired as his body these days, and he found his eyes falling heavier and heavier with each passing second.

Until his phone rang.

He almost didn’t hear it; he almost thought it was a dream, but he eventually regained enough consciousness to realize it was blasting loudly. He grumbled, turning over to his side and grabbing to answer it. He didn’t bother looking at the caller ID because he knew the brightness of the screen would hurt his eyes. If it were Auston or any of the guys, he’d murder them.

“Hello?” he grumbled into the phone.

“M-M-M-Mo…” he heard Briony’s voice shake on the other end.

His eyes immediately went wide at the sound of her voice. Why was she calling so late at night? “Briony?”

“M-Mo…”

“Briony, what’s wrong?”

She sounded like she was hyperventilating but trying to hide it. “Mo, s-somebody broke into my ap-partment,” she hiccupped. “Somebody b-b-broke in and took all my st-stuff-f.”

Morgan shot up from his bed and threw the covers off his body. “Have you called the police?”

“M-M-Mo, they took my laptop. They took my j-j-jewellery box. T-T-They t-t-took --”

“Briony, did you call the police?” he asked more firmly. His heart was running a mile a minute now.

“Y-Yes,” her voice continued to shake. “M-Mo…they took everything. Even my clothes.”

Holy shit. Holy shit. He rushed to throw on a hoodie he left on his chair and struggled to put on a pair of track pants without falling over. “I’m on my way,” he said quickly. “Are the cops coming?”

He heard her breath hitch in her throat a few times. “M-Mo…”

“Did the cops say they were on their way?”

“Y-Y-Yeah, they’ve sent s-someone and he’s j-j-just out-tside now.”

“Okay, I’ll be there in five,” he said, grabbing his keys and slamming the door behind him. “Do you want to stay on the phone with me?”

“M-M-Mo, what am I gonna do?” she cried. “Th-They stole everything. My front window is b-broken a-a-and I d-d-don’t know --”

“Briony it’s going to be okay,” he assured her.

“N-No it’s-s-s n-not.”

“Yes it is. I’m on my way.”

***

Morgan was sure he sped through the streets, probably even ran a couple of red lights, because he made it up to the Annex in record time. By the time he got to her apartment, there was already a cop car with its lights flashing outside. He didn’t even attempt to park his car; he practically left it in the middle of street, behind the cop car, and rushed towards the front door. He noticed the front bay window completely smashed, glass all over the front lawn.

When he opened the door to her apartment, like he had so many times before, he saw her standing with the police officer. She immediately turned her head the second she heard the door open and when she realized it was him, ran towards him. “Morgan!”

She clung on to him for dear life. She began crying again as she buried her head in his chest. It was only then when he noticed the state of the apartment – broken glass near the window; all drawers open or literally taken out of the slot and thrown half way across the room; mud all over the floor from muddy boots; her kitchen cabinets open and her food thrown everywhere. It looked like a tornado passed through. There were two other people in the apartment that looked like they were dusting for prints. “Are you hurt?” he asked. She shook her head. “Did you see them?” Another head shake.

He noticed the police officer approach him. “My guess is you are the boyfriend.”

“Yes sir.”

“Ms. McTavish mentioned you stay over sometimes. Do you keep any valuables at the apartment?”

Morgan shook his head. “No sir. I…what happened?” Briony had pulled away and was wiping the tears on her cheeks with the back of her hand. “What happened?” he asked her directly.

“W-When I c-c-came back from the g-grocery store I noticed the w-w-window, and I ran inside and I s-saw th-th-this,” she stuttered out. “I d-d-don’t…I d-don’t know…”

“We are assuming it happened during the period she was absent from the residence,” the police officer said. “I’ll just need to finish writing Ms. McTavish’s statement and record a list of all her belongings that were stolen.”

“Yeah, of course,” Morgan said, grabbing at Briony’s hand. He looked around again to see more mess. Her covers thrown off her bed, even the mattress protector gone – clearly whoever did this was banking on the old ‘keep your money under the bed’ trick; her fridge door wide open, contents again spewed all over the floor. He was feeling more and more sick the more he took in. He couldn’t imagine how violated Briony must be feeling.

“My l-l-laptop is the b-biggest thing,” she began. “A-And they t-t-took my c-clothes. Almost all my c-clothes.”

“Were there any items of significant value?”

She shook her head vehemently. “And then my j-jewellery box.”

“Again, any items of significant value? Family heirlooms?”

“No.”

Morgan knew Briony didn’t have much, and he knew she didn’t spend much, but his heart broke when she had to give the officer an itemized list of all the clothes and pieces of jewellery that were stolen and how much she had paid for them. He had $200 dollar shirts and custom suits hanging in his closet, and he didn’t think he’d ever heard Briony go above $30 for how much she spent on something. The fact that she could even give the officer an itemized list of every piece of clothing and every little piece of jewellery she had meant something. It meant she knew exactly what she owned – however little it was – and she kept tabs on it all. He wasn’t even sure about that. He didn’t really keep tabs on things like he should. If the same thing ever happened to him, he wouldn’t be able to give an accurate number or descriptions. He could remember some prices of significance, like his $8000 watch or the general ballpark he paid for all his pairs of Jordan shoes, but he could never be specific like she was doing.

“Okay Ms. McTavish. I’ve already made the call for the crew to come to board up the front window and I’m going to be putting a heavy padlock on your apartment door. Do you have a place you can stay tonight?”

“Yes, absolutely,” Morgan answered for her quickly.

“Okay. Once the boards are up I’ll file your report and statement. I’m also going to ask your neighbours if they saw or heard any suspicious activity. I suggest you take whatever belongings you can for now, anything of value or significance that perhaps the intruder didn’t take, and I will call you tomorrow to discuss your options,” the officer informed her.

“W-What about my stuff?”

“Pardon me?”

“M-My belongings. What’s gonna happen with finding my s-stuff?”

The officer gave her a concerned look. He looked at Morgan briefly too before taking a deep breath. “Ms. McTavish, there’s really nothing further we can do unless we find the culprit. Usually in these situations the culprit keeps the items or sells them for any value, if they are even of any value. We can look at local pawn businesses in the area, but…”

“So my stuff is just gone again.”

The officer nodded his head once, his face still concerned. “I will try my hardest. Maybe I’ll look in some of the electronic shops for your laptop, but I really can’t guarantee anything.”

The only things left to salvage were Briony’s books. Because of course the thief didn’t take the fucking books. The officer waited for them as she moved in a complete daze around her apartment – no more tears, but her face still stained with them, and with an aura of fear about her. Morgan could see her hands trembling as she grabbed at her textbooks, the ones she was using this semester in particular, and handed them to Morgan. She then looked at her small half bookshelf of only two rows, with all the fiction books she had accumulated from various book sales – the book sales she told Morgan about in one of their first conversations – and looked at him. “Will this fit in your car?” her voice trembling as much as her hands.

“Of course. What else do you want to grab?”

“That’s it.”

“Briony --”

“I want to go now.”

“B--”

“Please, Morgan. I don’t want to be here anymore. Please.”

“Come here. Come here,” he outstretched his arms to her, and she began crying again as she nestled into his hug and buried her face in his chest. “It’s gonna be okay baby.”

“Can we p-p-please just g-grab my b-b-books and g-go,” she mumbled into his chest. “There’s nothing else, M-Morgan. N-N-Nothing else is-s-s mine. It all came with the apartment.”

He nodded his head, moving to give her the textbooks she had handed to him. He bent at the knees and picked up the bookshelf easily, all the books still in it. He looked at the officer. “We’re done. You can lock it up.”

The officer nodded his head. “Alright then. You stay safe. I will call you tomorrow for further information.” He locked up the door with a padlock as they left, and waited for the crew to arrive to put up the wood boards on the broken windows.

Morgan carried the bookshelf and placed it into the trunk of his car. Briony, still clutching her textbooks, climbed into the front seat. When he climbed in and started the car, he looked over at her. Her cheeks were fresh with tears, her winter jacket haphazardly put on. He reached over the centre console and grabbed her hand, bringing it up to his lips and kissing it. “It’s going to be okay, Briony.”

She tucked her knees into chest as he drove away from her apartment, her textbooks where her feet were supposed to be. She looked out the window, tears still streaming down her face occasionally. As the city streets passed by her, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of emptiness within her; an emptiness that felt all too familiar. An emptiness that seemed to follow her for her entire life. She came from nothing, and now she had nothing. She could accumulate, she could amass, but she would always end up empty. The emptiness was not a new feeling, but it didn’t hurt any less just because she had felt it before. It hurt more now because she knew how it felt to be full.

Everything was a blur until she climbed into bed. She knew at some point they arrived at his apartment, and they got out of the car and took the elevator to his place, but she didn’t remember. She didn’t remember anything until she got into bed and practically wrapped her body around Morgan’s to feel any semblance of safety. Despite the cold outside and the cold in her body, he felt so warm and so full, and she wanted desperately to feel that too. She knew she wouldn’t – not anytime soon – but it was worth a try. If she couldn’t have it, she could at least feel it.

“Briony…” Morgan’s voice was soft as he wrapped his arms around her, placing light kisses on her forehead and the crown of her head. “Briony, look at me. Please.” She pulled away only slightly, enough to get a look at his face. Her eyes were red and puffy still from all the tears. “I need to know what happened in your childhood now,” he said.

She shook her head. “No.”

“You said ‘So my stuff is just gone again’ to the police officer.”

“Morgan.”

“Briony, please. Please.”

Tears welled up in her eyes again. “I th-thought I was finally safe,” she hiccupped again, still shaking slightly as Morgan held on to her.

“What do you mean?”

“Th-Th-This happened all the time as a k-kid. All the t-t-time,” she revealed finally, wiping a stray tear away. “Esp-p-pecially when we were between places. Or at the homeless sh-shelt-t-ters. And they’d t-take all my mom’s s-s-stuff. They’d take m-my st-stuff too. Anything they thought was of value. Th-That’s why I always ended up w-with n-n-nothing. And that’s w-why we’d always end up with n-nothing. I was always s-so s-s-scared. We’d always have to st-start from s-s-scratch.”

In-between places. Homeless shelters. They’d take my stuff. Starting from scratch. Morgan felt sick to his stomach. This had happened to her before. Often. As a fucking child. As a child with an alcoholic mother who had no will to protect her. With a mother who had no will to attempt to make their situation better. How somebody could create that environment for a child; how someone could be complacent in making a child that scared; how someone could not care about their child to that degree, Morgan would never be able to understand.

“You don’t have to be scared anymore,” Morgan said. “You’re safe with me. You don’t have to worry.”

“She’d never t-tell me everything was going to be okay because sh-she knew it was never going to be ok-kay,” Briony continued, and Morgan knew she was talking about her mother. “And when I finally l-left I thought everything was going to be okay.”

“I’ve got you now. I’m here for you now. It’s going to be okay.”

“N-No it’s n-n-not,” she shook her head, unable to believe him. “M-My laptop’s gone, I have no c-clothes, I didn’t even have m-m-much to begin with and now I have n-nothing again and-d- I --”

“Briony, no, no,” Morgan repeated, squeezing her tighter. “You have me. You have me. You don’t have nothing, you have me. I don’t want you going through this alone. You can’t go through this alone. Because you’re not alone anymore.”

She buried her face in his chest again, unable to cope with his words as tears streamed down her face. There was too much emptiness, too much pain. She could only cry herself to sleep, and Morgan, heartbroken, could only listen, his heart breaking with each passing sob, each passing tear he felt wash his skin, each passing tremble of her body.

#morgan rielly #morgan rielly imagine #morgan rielly fic #toronto maple leafs #toronto maple leafs imagine #toronto maple leafs fic #alone together series

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cupidmarwani-archive · 4 years

Text

The Rehabilitation of Ava Bekker (10/12)

For the next two days, Robin is distant. Something has changed, something devastating and life-changing, and Ava can’t figure out what it is. Every time she asks, she’s stonewalled. It isn’t fair, but life isn’t fair, and perhaps this is her mortal punishment for what she did back in Chicago. She doesn’t much believe in the idea of hell, but this- this is hell. Pure and simple. For the briefest of moments, she was allowed true affection from the strangest of sources, only to have it ripped away from her just as Connor was.

Her comfort becomes Angie. The nightmares don’t end, but Robin doesn’t comfort her the same way, so Ava sneaks out just before dawn to curl up in the wet grass with Angie’s warm body and kiss her dirty fur like she’s a teddy bear. Angie is like her. Past her prime, mostly useless, but still around. Still here. Just being a bit of a burden on everyone.

But on the third morning, when it’s the day of the market, Robin seems bright again as she loads up her truck and tends to the animals. She smiles, and she pulls Ava close in the soft bloom of the morning light as though everything is okay again. And her lips, sweet with balm, are tenderly soft on Ava’s on for the shortest of kisses. It means something more, though, and Ava is eager to move past the iciness that has burned between them out of nowhere.

“Come with me to the market,” Robin says, and means it. “It’ll be a good chance to meet the locals.”

And Ava almost says no, too afraid of being recognized. But she’s desperate for human connection and afraid of being abandoned again, so she says yes and climbs into the passenger seat like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Connor’s photo remains in the house, although he had become a frequent companion in Ava’s short not-quite isolation. She’s without him, but she’s with Robin, and what is there to be but happy as they drive in the blasting AC, the world open and outstretched before them. Robin almost speaks a couple of times, but she is quiet. And Ava mirrors it, for fear of what happens should she stop.

The market is busy but homely, vendors putting up their stalls and early visitors coming by to pick up their favorites. Usual customers, she realizes, because people already seem to know what they’re coming to purchase. It’s a ritual, a routine that Ava will be settling into, she decides as they begin setting up their tables. She can handle this. It’ll be like having her daily chores at the farm, and like the predictability that occasionally found its way into her old job. She knew her rounds and their timing, knew exactly how long each surgery should take. This will be part of her new life, and it will be with Robin right beside her.

Since everything is in cash, Robin leaves her in charge of the stall at the beginning so she can do her shopping at the others for things not produced on her own. Soap, honey, vegetables. Rounding out their life. It takes a while for the first customer to arrive, and she looks terribly confused to see Ava and not Robin standing here next to the brightly painted sign declaring Robin’s name and the prices of the loaves.

“Where’s Robin?” The woman asks, tilting her head to the side. She seems unsure. “Who’re you?”

Ava pastes on a false smile. “I’m the new farm hand. I’m helping while she does her shopping.”

The woman hums in disapproval. But nonetheless, she peruses the loaves until she finds one she likes, and points at it with a knobbly finger. Ava dutifully wraps it up, states the total ($5), and exchanges the bread for the money. Easy enough. Too easy for her, too easy for a woman who put herself through medical school and became a surgeon. A good one. She was good at surgery, and now she’s selling bread in a small town in the midwest, wearing muddy boots, and watching over the crowds for Robin’s familiar braid hanging down against her red tank top. Ava doesn't like this feeling of being completely alone but surrounded by people, trapped helplessly by leaves of bread with no real purpose anymore. There's the farm, but it's not the same. She didn't grow up wanting this, spending years preparing for it.

She wants to go home, and thinking about it stings in a way it hasn’t since she left. Her nose burns and her eyes start to itch. Before she knows it, she’s crying. A quiet cry, a gentle spring rain, one she works through like her cheeks aren’t wet and her chest doesn’t hurt. But pretending doesn’t make it go away.

No one approaches her at all to buy bread until Robin comes back, her once empty reusable bags full to bursting with all manner of things. They drop. Thud on the concrete. Robin’s hands are now on Ava’s face, brushing away her tears and studying her closely like a puzzle she just can’t put together.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Ava shakes her head and shuts her eyes, melts into the caring touch Robin gives to her in a promise that things are going to turn out alright, one way or another. She’s safe here, even if it’s not necessarily where she wants to be.

With Robin back, they sell most of their inventory, and she doesn’t think about Connor for the rest of the day. She just thinks about the way the sun looks on Robin’s skin, the surety of Robin’s hands on her back, the infectiousness of Robin’s bright smile. The world becomes Robin, Robin, Robin, and Ava’s not angry about it. She clings to it. And she sees this version of herself, someone who can live like this happily and without pain, and she revels in it. She craves the Ava who sells bread at the farmer’s market and holds Robin’s hand.

It’s only back at home, half-drowning in the warmth, that her eyes return to her photo of Connor and she asks herself if he would ever live like this. She can’t imagine him milking the cows or tending the crops. In her mind, he exists only in the operating room and her bed, otherwise absent of depth. She can’t picture him grocery shopping. Doing laundry. Cleaning out her fridge. He’s not a person, he’s a photo. Two dimensional. Flat. She can easily imagine Robin doing each of those things, and something about the thought is warm and loving. A life. A home. Something real and worth nurturing.

She smooths her fingers over Connor’s faded face, younger without the beard he grew at the end of his life. He looks happy. She didn’t often see him so happy. And so she tucks his photo away and thinks about the mundanity of Robin folding blankets until it’s time to help cook dinner.

@sapphiccsharks @bipeteypie @bookreader525 @lovxies

#rab!fic #fic #mine

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peggysousfan · 5 years

Text

Agent Carter An Au Series

Here is the next chapter! Enjoy!! ;)

Peggy's POV:

When I wake up the next morning, I notice I'm not alone. I look up and notice Daniel fast asleep. He must have gotten tired waiting for me to sleep myself, not that I mind him being here. I think this is the best sleep I've had in years; because I knew I was safe. I look beside the bed and see Steph asleep as well in her Moses basket. Why Americans call it a bassinet I have no idea. I don't want to move, in fear of waking Daniel, so I don't. I keep my head on his chest and drape my arm over his torso. Daniel in return leaves his arm under my shoulders and holds me closer. We shouldn't be doing this. We shouldn't be laying in the same bed holding each other for dear life; but we are. And I don't want it to end.

Daniel starts to stir, and I close my eyes. Just sleep for a few more minutes, please! I don't know what I'd do without him. He has been there for me and my daughter when we've had nowhere to turn. He has been there for me when I have been going mad with illness and terror. And above all he takes care of Stephanie as if she were his own. I've never met someone like that, and I never will again. Daniel is a one of a kind person; and I want him to be mine. I'm tired of running from my feelings. When he admitted there was no one in his life romantically, I saw an opportunity, and I need to take it soon. While working with Howard it may not be possible, unless... I tell Daniel. That may not end well if I do, he may never want to speak to me again, let alone start something new. God this is an absurd mess.

"Mmm" Daniel starts to move around and wake up. "Oh shit!" He jumps back from me and out of bed.

"Daniel? What-" I look at him as he tries to regain his balance. He got up far to quickly without his crutch. "Whats wrong?" I looks at me as if he terrified and ashamed.

"I- I didn't mean to fall asleep. I swear."

"Daniel." I can't hold in my laughter, this situation we've gotten ourselves into is hysterical. "Do you really think I care about that?" He starts to relax, but still I can see his muscles tense. Has his shirt always been that tight?

"Peg...?"I look up at him and then away. I was staring, dammit.

"Sorry, I-uhm..." I clear my throat. "Daniel you should know by now that things like this don't bother me when it comes to you." I gather the strength to look at him, and of course hes shocked. "Oh stop looking at me like that! You know I don't mind." I pat the bed where he was and he sits back down.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry. Its just-"

"You're worried about propriety and being a gentleman?" He nods his head and avoids looking at me. I hate when he does that. "Daniel..." I reach for his face and he looks at me. "I know you're a gentleman and a good man. One of the best, in my opinion." He laughs. "You don't need to try and distance yourself from me to prove it. " Our eyes meet one another and I get this pulsing shock in my hands from where I touch his face. Does he feel this?

It isn't until now when I realize juts how close and intimate this is. I drop my hands and look away; but he holds my cheek in return. We both lean in and our lips begin to touch, lightly,like they did before... and then they finally meet. At first I wasn't sure if this was real; but it is. I feel as if everything in my body is electrified and I have so much energy I can't sit still. Its happened so quickly I barely have time to understand what is happening. All I know is that we've had out gentle taste...and its not enough. At first it seemed as if Daniel were afraid, but now he has much more confidence. He buries his hands in my hair and pulls me closer. I let him draw me near, and it feels right. The longer our lips stay together, the hungrier they move.

Each kiss feels as if I'm being shocked with a new breath of life, and I don't want it to end. I rest one hand on his shoulder and the other on his cheek, and theres nothing in the world but Daniel and I. One hand slides down my back and rests at my waist and there is no more space between us. Seconds, minutes,or hours go by, but I'm not paying attention. We're going to be late, but I don't care....We stay like this until we run out of breath, our air mingles with each other. And all I can think to do is smile and laugh, and so does he. I kiss him once more and lean back, sitting on my heels.

"That was..."

"Wow." He finishes. I laugh again and retrieve another kiss. These are the kind you get drunk off of. "I was not expecting that..."

"Nor I..." Our eyes meet again and it feels like I'm lost staring into the stars. We lean in once more and I fear we may not go into the office at all today. I stop and look down, my hands on his buttons; asking a question without uttering a word. He nods his head and grabs my waist to pull me closer, and we snog even longer...I feel like this is long overdue. And this time, I actually have a say on who I take to bed. I may not have chosen Rogers, but I will always choose Daniel. I unbutton the first with shaking hands, and we laugh. His hands glide to the hem of my gown and lingers. I nod and kiss him again... But of course we're interrupted when Steph begins to fuss.

"She has impeccable timing." He laughs underneath me.

"That she does" I laugh in return. I climb over Daniel and walk over to her, and then pick her up."She must be hungry" I slide my sleeve down my shoulder and start to nurse her.

"Uh-right I should-"

"Daniel." I turn to him and glare. "What did you expect to transpire not even 2 minutes ago?!" He looks away and laughs.

"Right, sorry." He has a wolfish smug on his face, and its rather sexy, if I'm being honest. He looks at me and takes my breath away, with his shirt unbuttoned and wrinkled and his hair a jungle of a mess. "What?"

"Nothing." I sit on the bed and continue to nurse Steph. Although shes only 5 months, her teeth have already starting popping out, and they hurt. "You, little miss, are going to be eating something else very soon! I can't stand this anymore..."

"Whats wrong?"

"Her teeth are starting to break through, and its a pain in my arse." and he laughs while coming up behind me. A shiver runs down my spine as he kisses my neck lightly. "Start that and we won't make it to the office today..."

"Maybe I don't want to..." He kisses the side of my neck and moves to my shoulders.

"Daniel!" I laugh.

"Peggy!" He embraces me from behind and looks down at Steph. She looks up at him and stops eating. "Hey sunshine." She laughs and reaches for him. He takes her and I stand, fixing my dress.

"I should shower, and get ready."

"Want me to join you?"

"Daniel!" he laughs and I can feel the heat on my my face. "We'll never leave if you do that." He smiles, knowingly. I've never seen this side of him before... I like it. I wish we could stay in today, but I can't. I have to leave to keep him safe. "Besides...I'm leaving today." and the wolfish look on his face morphs into one of sadness.

"I know..."

"I'll still come here. I still want to see you ans Steph and..." I walk over to him and sit. "I-I want this. I want to see...where this goes." Our eyes meet again and his are filled with longing and sadness. "I'm not leaving this...us. I want you, Daniel. And my leaving here won't change that." He looks at me and leans in, and we meet in the middle with a tender kiss.

"I trust you, Peg." I leave the room, my hand letting go of his, and head in the shower. This will be an interesting week...

Several days later:

Its been nearly a week with living in Howard's house, and nearly a week of not seeing Steph for so long. I decided it would be best to leave her with Daniel while I was at Howard's to see if I could really do this; live in the Griffith Hotel and not see my little girl as often as I like, and its harder than I thought. But Daniel has taken very good care of her. I enjoy visiting him, especially with everything between us out in the open. Although I love seeing Steph and Daniel, I know I can't stay. The only way to keep them safe is if I leave the building and move somewhere where no one will get to them. So, I told Angie I will take the flat at the Griffith, but to get it I have to have an interview done first. We walk about the grounds as she gives me a small tour before I talk to the overseer of the building.

"Evelyn," Angie politely says, and the woman replies with a hello of her own. "Evelyn's a lounge singer at a club in midtown." She explains. "Hi Sarah." Angie says as we keep walking. "That's Sarah, shes a slut." Angie whispers. Well that was profoundly honest... I'm taken back by her comment. "I'm so glad you changed your mind! You're gonna love it here" Angie says.

"Assuming I'm accepted. I've never rented a flat that required an interview."

"Its just a formality, you'll ace it. Miriam's a total pussy cat." If by that she means a completely stiff and downhearted woman, than I agree. Shes very set on propriety and manners, and to be quite honest, she reminds me of my prudish headmistress with a stick up her arse.

"Your references are impeccable. Senator Palmer is especially complimentary," Miss Fry says.

"He and my father were dear friends." I say and smile. Which isn't a lie, the stories I could tell of him and my father when I was a child...I look at Angie through the window at the desk, shes promised to help me through this interview. "Were you limping as you came in?"

"Caught my heel on a Cobble stone. You know how the West Village is." I try to lie and shake off the fact that my leg is still wounded from the fight over the Daisy Clover truck.

"I'm afraid I never travel below 33rd street,so no, I don't." Bloody hell...I look at Angie and she has a grim expression. I try to shrug it off and say I don't know what to say. Miss Fry catches it and glances at her, but says nothing about it. "How long do you see yourself working for the telephone company?" Oh, um.. right. She is a stickler for propriety.

"Only until I'm married, Miss Fry." I hope that was the right response...This is all so odd. She explains the hotel is for proper lady's that must dress with elegance, and explains their code of conduct, curfew, No men above the first floor. Thank God I got the flat, now its time to go to work.

I walk through the elevator doors and into the bullpen,when I notice Chief Dooley, Daniel-no Agent Sousa, and Agent Thompson all standing at Sousa's desk. They're looking at the photos from Spider Raymond's club, and seem to be adamantly pointing at something. Chief usher me to come over, and I do.

"Settle a bet for us...Is that Joe DiMaggio?" Oh thank God, I thought it was me in the picture.

"I don't follow boxing." As I say this, Dooley goes into a laughing fit.

"Told you she wouldn't know who DiMaggio was." Daniel says. I glance at him and smile. Thompson pays Daniel, pats him on the back, and walks away.

"You bet against me?" I ask with a smirk on my face. He looks up at me and I try to keep my composure. "How could you be sure?"

"I wasn't. Thats why they call it gambling." Smart arse. He knows for a fact I don't know who that man is because he knows I don't understand or follow any American sports. Sneaky bugger got an easy win on this bet. Dooley insists it was this man, and Thompson disagrees. He says he would have known if he were in the same room as Joe DiMaggio, as if he were some enormous fan and detector of celebrities.

"Do you spot anyone else?" I ask, trying to change the subject before I pull him into the file room and steal a kiss. I fear I've fallen a little too hard, and shouldn't be having these thoughts at work.

"Nothing definitive, she really knows how to duck a camera. Not one clear shot of her face.

"Tough break"

"Nobody's lucky forever. We'll find her." Little does he knows he's looking right at her. I hate keeping this from him, and i want nothing more than to come clean and say it. But I'm afraid what will happen if I do...Then again it could be much worse if he finds out and I don't tell him... Bloody hell. I have to tell him.

Daniel's POV:

When I got to the office this morning, The first thing I did when I got there was look for Peggy, but of course she wasn't there. She has to get that apartment today; but I wish she wouldn't. I liked when she was living with me, and even though Steph is still with me, its not the same. Ever since that kiss, things seemed to change for us, and for the better. We have lingering looks and gentle touches, and while he haven't kissed a lot since then; I'm waiting for the right moment.

When I get to my desk, I unlock my drawer and open the packet with the club photos. As I look through them, Thompson walks by and stops to look.

"Hey! Is that..? Nah it can't be."

"What?"

"I thought that was Joe DiMaggio."

"Huh. It does look like him doesn't it?" I look closer at the photo, and son of a bitch, I think it is him. Thompson calls to the chief and they both look at it.

"Holey mother of Mary. That's Joe DiMaggio." Both the chief and I think its him, but Thompson disagrees and says theres no way its him. "How much you wanna bet?"

"Its not worth it." Thompson argues.

"I bet you even Carter will know its him." Dooley says.

"I wouldn't be too sure about that, Chief. I doubt she even knows who he is." I say They both turn to me and bet on it. So when Peggy does come int, they both loose. Half the day goes by and Peggy starts taking everyone's lunch order.

"Do I even need to ask you?" She smiles at me and I laugh.

"I don't know, Carter. I might change it up today." She shoves my shoulder lightly and puts the paper on my desk.

"Well if you're going to do that you might as well write down your own damn order." She tilts her head, defiantly, and smirks.

"Fine. I will." I look down at the paper and when I start writing I notice a little slip of paper in the corner. Weird. When I hand her my order, she slyly drops that little slip on my desk and starts to walk away.

"Thanks, Sousa." I watch her walk away and can't help but think of how strange that was. I look around to make sure no one is watching and then I look at the slip. 'Meet me at the Automat after work. Its urgent. -PC' with a little heart at the end. Kind of giving mixed signals there Peg...

Hours go by and I notice Peggy leaving. She smiles and waves goodbye as she leaves to pick up Stephanie. I know its killing her inside, seeing her daughter less and less, and I wish I knew why she was so adamant about me not knowing who her sitters were. Not that its a major problem, but its weird how she puts on a front and seems happy, but I know shes hiding something. I clock out about an hour or so later, not wanting to stay too late, and head over to the Automat. Maybe this mystery urgency or whatever shes been keeping form me will all make sense.

Peggy's POV:

After I pick up Steph, I go back to Daniel's apartment and grab some of her things. Shes been very vocal lately, and I think she may speak her first word soon; and I hope I get to hear it. Once I finish everything doing what I need to do and grab what i need. I leave for the Automat and wait for Daniel.

"Hey English! Awe look at her, shes so cute! Can I hold her?"

"Sure." I hand Angie the babe and she starts to smile.

"Where is she staying at? Did your sister come back?" Oh rats, I forgot about that.

"Oh, uhn. No shes actually staying with a...friend of mine. He's actually coming here soon." Angie hands her back and takes my tea order; and then we wait. Steph starts to get fussy and I give her one of Daniels's vests to cuddle with. And of course, she starts to settle down. I can't get over how much he keeps her calm.

"Peg." I look up and see him.

"Daniel!" I get up from the booth and embrace him, quickly, then sit down. A few eyes wonder in our direction but don't pay us much attention. "Poppet, looks who's here." She looks around at the sound of my voice and her eyes brighten when she sees Daniel.

"Hey anjo, what were you doing?" He laughs when I give her to him. "Is this my vest?"

"Its the first thing I grabbed when I was at your apartment. I knew she would get unsettled if we were here to long."He plays with her for a few moments and then turns to me, with concern written on his face.

"So. Are you gonna tell me what this is all about, or am I suppose to guess?" I look down and sigh in defeat.

"I do...have something to tell you." I lean back and look at my tea. "But if I tell you I fear what you will say of think. And I-"

"Hey English!" Such rotten timing, Angie. "DO you want a refill or something to eat? Maybe for your...'friend' too?" I glare at her and look at Daniel. He asks for a coffee and I get more tea. When comes back with our drinks and leaves, I start to speak again. "Daniel. Do you trust me?"

"Of Course I do, Peggy. Why wouldn't I?"

"Because what I have to tell you may make you hate me...and you may never want to speak or see me again. And you could possibly turn me in, and I-I hope you don't."

"Peg what're you talking about. Turn you in? To who? And for what? And where the hell would Steph go?" I shut my eyes and wipe away a tear that escaped. "No. C'mon Peggy, do you really think I'd do that to you?" I know he looks hurt at the thought, but I don't know who I can trust with this.

"I-I don't know." I say honestly. "I hope not-

"You should know I would never do that Peg." Now I feel ashamed. I like Daniel, a lot. And we are friends, but we've been treading the water of becoming more, and now I've mucked it up.

"Daniel..." I look at him as I take a deep breath. "Its about Howard." Now I have his attention.

"You're working with him. Aren't you?" Well that didn't take long for him to figure out. Then again he is an excellent Agent whether the SSR sees it or not. I say nothing, instead I look away and nod.

"He came to me, a few weeks ago, asking for help." He shakes his head and looks at Steph. "He didn't do this,Daniel. I know that. Hes a good person, when you don't look at his ego and big brain." Daniel chuckles. "He has a heart...and he's my friend. I don't want to see him hunted down and locked away as if her were some horrid animal." He looks at me and all I can think to do is melt in his eyes. "Daniel...Howard is innocent and I'm trying to help him prove that. I wanted to tell you because-" I stop and try to gather my emotions. Its best not to make a scene so publicly, even if the Automat is practically empty. "Because I don't like keep things from you. Its been eating away at me. I want to keep the two of you safe, thats why I had to leave your apartment." "Peggy-"

"Daniel I had to. Its my fault Colleen died!" I yell whisper the last part. "And then Roxxon happened and- I-I just can't let anything happen to the two most important people in my life. I won't loose you Daniel. And I won't loose Stephanie. I'd die if anything happened to either of you, especially knowing it was my fault." I look away and wipe away the tears.

"Peg..."I look up and he reaches for my hand. "I would NEVER ever in my life turn you in or hate you for being an amazing person and a protective mother." I squeeze his hand as more tears fall. "Peggy, you don't have to carry this alone. I'm here, you know that. You don't have to doubt me or my honesty." How on earth does this amazing man exist?

"I've all but admitted I've lied to you and sneaked behind your back and yet... you don't care?"

"You were doing it for the right reasons. How could I ever be angry with you or hate you for that?"

"You..." I shake my head and wipe away my tears with one hand, as I keep the other in his. "You are incredible, Daniel Sousa."

"Not really, I just have ethics, morals, and boundaries."

"And modest." We both laugh. We walk back to his apartment and play with Stephanie. But all too soon I have to leave. "Its getting late, I should be going. This Hotel I've been accepted to has a curfew for its residence. If I miss it I may not have an apartment anymore. "

"Curfew? Seriously?" I nod my head and kiss my daughter.

"Goodbye poppet, Mummy loves you so much." I hold her against me and I don't want to let go. Daniel embraces us both and I lean into him. "Good night, Daniel." I place one hand on his cheek and a kiss on his lips. He holds me close and I feel as if I should stay.Our lips press against each other perfectly, like two puzzle pieces meant for each other. Steph begins to laugh and bounce around, I think she likes what Daniel and I have started.

"Good night, Peg." One last kiss and I hand over Steph, then I leave. Maybe one day, I won't have to go...

#peggysous #peggy carter #daniel sousa #Peggy x Daniel #agent carter #agent carter series #au fanfic #fanfiction

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